On how much I've found out about the Headlams and why I need to return to Durham to find out more

Yesterday (Tuesday 5th March), I drafted the talk I'm going to be giving tomorrow to the Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies on what I've been doing while a Barker Fellow at Durham. I was stuck as I preparing the talk at how complete my journey felt in some ways. 

Over the weeks I had gained glimpses into what life what like for Headlam family members of successive generations, including into where Classics fitted into their lives. And then this all this came to a head on the last day I had been in the Special Collections Room, when I had seen not just school reports of Headlam boys (which showed how, typically, for young elite young men, classics was key to their education) - but poems, frequently containing classical allusions and sometimes on classical topics. These were written at home, both by boys and girls - the children of John Headlam, dating to around the middle of the 19th century.

Today, though, things felt even more like an end point. My main goal had been to look again at the poems and take better photos of them than I had managed in my haste on Thursday. I did that, and then I thought that I'd better see what of the remaining material - much of it not yet finally catalogued - might be relevant.

And - well - here is a quick overview. The TLDR is that I gauged how much remains to be seen, and I hope to return. I HAVE to return.

For one thing - I got to see the other side of the argument between John (for it was he - in an earlier post I stated that I was not sure) and Margaret Headlam (that's Margaret's brother John, not their father) that I'd become engrossed with earlier in my fellowship. 

Now, as well as reading John's angry letters (among Margaret's papers), I got to see Margaret's to John. And it really is pretty well just that, SEE them - I've only so far glanced at them and taken some photos. But it looks as though Margaret stands her ground, is more measured in her responses than her brother  and, unlike him, gives family news as well as continuing their discussion about the - what? doctrinal issues?

As well as seeing more about the relationship between John and Margaret, I saw papers of their brother Arthur - the sibling who was consistently doing well at school in the papers I'd looked at earlier. I saw from papers of Arthur from into his adulthood that he kept up his classical interests - via for example summaries of books of Thucydides. These merit further study.

There was also, among Arthur's papers, a news sheet, assembled out of stories, riddles etc by his family. Unlike the literary work done at home by Arthur himself as a young person which his father John appears to have set for Arthur and his siblings, among the fairytales and other stories, there was nothing I saw that was classical - why there is this omission is something I'd like to give thought to.

All this alone would have made the day a successful one. But I thought I should take a look into the papers of Lionel Headlam, one of Arthur's sons - to find out more about this generation of Headlams, and because it's a letter from Lionel, to his aunt Margaret - the one sent from France while he was employed as a private tutor for a young man - that has been among the most intriguing things in the collection that I've seen.

There are a lot of letters from his sister Rose Gladys (adding to the materials by her that I've seen already) including from when he was quite young. And there are a lot of school records and reports too - more, I think, that for any of the Headlam boys that I've seen. 

These further show how key classics was to a young man's education - but there was more too.

I had been curious about Lionel since reading his letter to Margaret where he didn't seem in a good place in terms of his wellbeing - he seemed lost. The letter hadn't been dated but I can see from the materials I saw today, which includes correspondence from the town in France where he was staying, that it will likely have been when he was in his early 20s (I'll need to check all this).

The reports gave a sense of someone who, from when very young, was very able academically, not least in classics - the reports of his Classics masters are more detailed than those for other subjects, either because more tended to be said about boys' classical progress, or perhaps reflecting how proficient and engaged Lionel was with this subject. 

But the reports also identified a tendency for Lionel to be somehow disconnected from his studies, and maybe from life in general - and this echoed the sense I'd gained from Lionel's own writing, in the letter to Margaret. I've talked about his in previous postings, and will say something about it in the talk tomorrow as well. 

For example, a report sent home from Eton (I'll need to see whether I can find the date), describes him as a 'good steady boy; not very brilliant' before stating:

there is a kind indistinctness both in his writing & speaking which seems to imply some want of decisiveness or [I can't read the word, I'll keep trying].

According to another Master, meanwhile, Lionel 'does not look to me strong or in good health'. Further, the Master continues, 

there is an air of lassitude in some of his work & attitudes. 

The very last two things I saw after gaining these glimpses into Lionel as a person were two photographs of him - and this among family papers that do not contain many photos. I've found a photo of his brother Arthur and used it to illustrate one of the postings, but that was only because I searched his name and he was sufficiently prominent a public person (Bishop of Gloucester etc) for a photo to be easily findable and in the public domain. 

I found seeing what Lionel looked like in these photos - as a boy, then a young man (he never became older than a young man - he died in his late 20s - I don't know why) affecting.  I wish I could share them via this blog (but I can't do this without permission).

I've included two photos already in this posting though - not of anywhere in Durham, but of the stairwell of the Lit and Phil in Newcastle. Here's why. 

On Monday evening, I went there to meet a former student, Nona Henderson (who is doing wonderful things with classics and primary teaching in the North East, and has just started blogging about her interests and practice). I arrived a few minutes early and taking in the impressive classical decor, I noticed a familiar name in the list of Presidents of the library beneath a copy of one of the panels of the Parthenon Frieze: Thomas Emerson Headlam, another of the sons of John Headlam, who I've been reading about over these weeks.

So I'll end here with this discovery in a place where I wasn't expecting to find anything Headlam-realted.

I've become very interested in the Headlams, especially I think Lionel, and I hope to return to Durham to make a study of his papers, especially the letters from Rose, which might be a source of clues for this intriguing person.

That's all for now!

Lovely goddess...talk of Demosthenes: my paper at the Durham Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies on March 7th, 2024

I'm writing this posting having just got back to Newcastle after an eventful day in Durham where I finally visited the Cathedral (and was introduced to medieval wall paintings which echoed quite uncannily what I was going to talk about just an hour or so after that: see below...), met up with colleagues one last time, and gave the talk for the Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies that I've mentioned several times on this blog.

A written-up version the text the talk follows. I should say that I completed this version on Tuesday (today is Thursday) when I felt as though - as I think I convey below - I'd reached the end of this first phase of my adventures in the Palace Green collections. But then I made some further discoveries yesterday (Wednesday) that added in unexpected - and to me exciting - ways to my findings. I mentioned some of these when I spoke this afternoon. For now though - here's what I wrote on Tuesday. I will then share - hopefully tomorrow - these additional findings.

One final lead-in point: the illustrations in this posting are screenshots of the PowerPoint slides - they're image-less for several reasons, one being the fact that I'll need to apply for permission to publish photographs of materials in the Collection.

Many thanks for this opportunity to share what I have been doing while a Barker Fellow over the past few weeks. What I'll be sharing is all quite raw - and very much work in progress. I'll welcome any thoughts, including in places where I reveal just how much I've yet to find out. Also, though, these weeks have shown much me just how much can be done in a month...

Here are two lead-ins to my topic in the form of 'show and tells'. The first, like Deirdrie Raftery's which she showed at her recent talk in this room, is my latest book. Unlike Dee's, though, you might wonder what mine has to do with the 19th century - or with anything I'm here to work on - as it's a book of lessons for autistic children based on classical myth.

The book's focus, though, is a specific artefact, in a room at the University of Roehampton, where I used to work. This artefact dates to the late 18th century - so could come under the LONG 19th-century: it's a chimneypiece panel showing Hercules choosing between two different paths in life. But there's another - better? - fit as well between why my book's topic and what I've been doing in Durham...

When I joined the University of Roehampton, and discovered this chimneypiece panel at a time when I was writing on its subject, Hercules, I got curious as to its subject matter - and on things things like: what was it doing there in that room? and when did it date to? So I went into the archives and found out as much as I could. So much so that the archivist described me as the World Expert on the panel... meaning just that I'm the only person to have looked at everything that's available.

This was an intense experience which I loved - including not knowing what would be there waiting to be discovered, and with documents being retrieved for me in a haphazard order. And it has been wonderful having an opportunity to be that kind of academic again - immersed in a Collection.

And... again this month, I've been looking at materials no in order of date etc, but in the order that they can best be retireved by the librarians. The result, this time round, has been some puzzlement, excitement and a feeling of immersion.

To my second show and tell item...

While staying here in the North East, I have been reading A Month in the Country by J.L. Carr where, in a month, August, in the early 1920s, a young man uncovers a medieval mural in a church in Yorkshire while going on a journey into confronting his own experiences - the reader is with him as he uncovers/discovers various things about his personal life and those around him.

I am thinking of renaming my blog - currently called 'Adventures in the Palace Green' - 'A Month in the Palace Green' or something like that, and what I am going to do this lunchtime is not what I thought I might, namely to give a report of my main findings, weighed in terms of their importance. I WILL go on to do that, but further down the line. What I'm going to do now is to take you through features of my discoveries - now that I'm nearly at the end of my time here: the Fellowship ends tomorrow.

What I came here to do was, as I put it in my application...:

That final point is a hotter then ever topic just now - with the publication, during the time of my fellowship, of a report on class discrimination in Classics in the UK which is pretty damming and well-evidenced - and something that Durham classicists have long been seeking to address, not least Edith Hall and Justine Wolfenden.

Returning to what I proposed to do in my application, I stated that I intended to ask the following questions:

And also these:

Not all of this has happened - for instance the Duff Papers have turned out not a state to be retrieved. 

There's more still to be done...

But to what I HAVE found. I have looked at material on Headlam boys' formal education and on where Classics came in. But beyond that - and more interestingly perhaps - I have found out about what was done at home, and not just by young men but by young women as well.

On Day 1 in the Special Collections, I found something relating to what studying classics could be like when I looked at correspondence of Isabella Headlam, one of many children of John Headlam who lived between 1815 (or '18?) and 1871. Much of what I looked at that day was day-to-day suff including - in the first letter I read - details of a correspondent's hunt for baskets. Along with this, I found a letter from one of her brothers, Francis John Headlam, sent from Eton where he had not long arrived and which was sent when he'll have been around 12:

Greek is included among the day-to-day things he writes about - showing just how far studying ancient Greek was a customary part of an elite schooling.

He doesn't say how well or badly it's going, and it is when he turns to another subject, Botany, that he goes into details - thus the letter gave a window on what interests him, and/or on what he felt would interest his aunt.

The next day (Wednesday of week 1), I looked at the papers of Isabella's younger sister, Margaret, including a series of letters from the 1840s when she'd have been in her 20s from someone who is translating Cervantes and whose translations she has been commenting on.

I also saw a set of letters from her brother John (I think it's John at least... - NB John went on to be left less that his siblings in his father's Will....), where he is furious about something, but what the issue is I have not been able to work out, except to say that it looks to be connected with her being in Brighton and to involve something doctrinal. For example:

In Margaret's papers of a few decades later, I found letters from her brother Arthur's sons Arthur and James - when they'll have been aged around 9 and 10. As with the correspondence about the sibling argument and about the Cervantes translations, there was nothing classical here, but plenty to show what interested the authors of the letters. The boys write in detail, above all, about some athletics competitions they've been taking part in and one shares that they've been trying to make as many words as possible out of 'facetious'.

I also read a later letter, from their younger brother Lionel written while he was a tutoring a young man in France. It's a reflective, in times despondent letter, where he starts by sharing that he's fallen out of practice at letter writing and goes on to say that he doesn't think much of his pupil - without saying anything about what he is trying to teach the boy. Then while sharing news about his brother Jimmy (James') education, he says...

Here's what stuck me as things to follow up on, including whether it might be significant that it's Lionel's MOTHER who now considers herself to have knowledge about Demosthenes:

The next day, I saw two further letters from members of this generation, this time to Uncle John while he was ill, and from two of the brothers. Here, in the midst of stuff about daily life, e.g. on their sister Rose's bridesmaid's costume and what flowers are appearing, one of the brothers, Arthur, says: 'on Saturday we do Latin fables' - without elaborating.  I would like to investigate what these fables might have been.

But where I did get to know more about the role classics played in family life was in relation to Arthur's father (also called Arthur) and his many siblings, including Isabella, Margaret and Francis John.

It started, for me, with Margaret when I came upon a series of works of poetry by her, often concerned with nature and with young women who died before/instead of marriage. These, to me, suggested classical influences, though I'm aware that I might be creating my OWN reception here. I also saw an unfinished play by Margaret  written when she was young, around 12, with some classical content:

Then, among the papers of their father John, I found school reports for those of his sons who were away at school. Among these, I read that Arthur consistently did well academically, particularly in Maths, while Francis John did well in Latin but with a recurrent comments along the lines of 'could do better', including after he'd got to Eton - from where he'd written the letter to Isabella.

Then, finally, most excitingly of all, I got to see what the siblings would all do at home - both the girls and the boys - which was to write poems on topics that seem to have been set by their father. 

In addition to these, there were a number of unattributed poems.

Many of the poems - just like Margaret's longer poems I'd already read - are concerned with nature, as well as other topics such as war and the fall of Carthage. Some are written in collaboration with other siblings, and some are written when they are very young, e.g, Margaret when she was 8. Most are in English, though there are some written in Latin.

I've not had time to work through them all yet. When I do this, what I especially plan to focus on are the poems on topics such as On Aurora ('lovely goddess... rising from Tithonus' (!) according to Frances Elizabeth's poem on the topic), On Iris and On Zephyrus.

I've not seen any difference in terms of gender in relation to the depth of engagement with classical themes.

As well as their own compositions, there are translations of Latin poems, including where several of the  siblings have translated the same Horace Ode - so I'll have an opportunity to compare and contrast their work and to investigate how they set out translating and consider what this says about how they engaged with classical authors.

I wish I could say more, but that'll be for later when I work though my photos.

So, in conclusion, I found less in some respects than I'd hoped for - there was nothing from the children themselves on how well or badly their classical studies have gone for instance: though that lack might be significant in itself. 

What IS there is above all the children's poems - and I want to investigate how typical or otherwise these are of privileged and literary homes.

On my most Classically-relevant day with the Headlam papers including in poems by several of them as children

I have said previously in this blog that some days spent with the Headlam papers take on their own character.

Today's - that's Thursday 29th February - both rounded off what I was looking at yesterday, and echoed LAST Thursday's session when, arriving for the library opening time, and leaving when it closed, leaving only for a lunch break, I looked at things written by Headlam young people. 

Waiting for the doors to open

My lunch break was longer than last week's when I allowed myself just 20 minutes - as I went to a cafe called Flat White Kitchen I'd heard about but been put off going into until now as it's not possible to see inside. When inside, it's lovely, over several floors in a historic building. 

This longer break was necessary as I had spent the last bit of the morning frantically working out which material I most need still to see and to find out whether these could be retrieved for the afternoon. I was feeling a sense of urgency because I was thinking that I might not go into Durham the following day as there looked set to be travel disruption due to train strikes.

I did get the material after lunch! I raced to look at it - and managed to see everything, but as with last week without time to process fully what I'd found, or be sure quite what I'd found. But I have lots of photos to look at later on.

First I rounded off yesterday's look at John Headlam's papers about his sons' schooling, reading that, in 1847, Francis continued to be mostly improving.

Arthur, meanwhile, continued to be successful in his studies, and wrote to his father to seek his advice about a dilemma he faced concerning which of two scholarships to go for at Cambridge.

That was a letter written on February 18th. Just a few months later, John died. Among the remaining papers for 1851, I saw his Will in which most of his property was to be left to Thomas Emerson, his oldest son. Among the bequests to the other children, were funds for Francis to see him though his university studies. Concerning his son John however, his father explains that his share is reduced because John has somehow 'displeased' him and 'set [him] at defiance'.

Among what remained in the folder was a diary kept by John's widow, Maria, started perhaps after John's death. The diary is concerned with day-to-day matters - though inserted into it was a love poem - more on that soon. First I am going to share about the most exciting things I saw - a set of folders where everything was bang-on relevant as it was comprised of nothing but poems by Headlam children, from when they are quite young - on topics that look to have been set by their father. 

Many are about nature. Other topics include war, there are some collaborative writings. There were poems by the boys whose formal schooling I had been reading about and by Margaret, whose longer poetry I had read last Thursday. There was poetry too by Isabella and by two other girls whose writing I had never seen.

There was quite a bit of classical content, with poems - in English and in one case in Latin - on topics such as Aurora, Iris, Zephyrus and the fall of Carthage. In addition to the children's own compositions there are translations from Horace by several of them.

Finally, there were poems by John himself including one he had written, or written out, for Maria before they were married, on a first kiss.

So to some concluding remarks. John Headlam comes across as a hands-on father who was very active beyond the family: I haven't said this already, but his papers include various published works including letters to Sir Robert Peel about prison reform.

John's children were educated at home - and in the boys' case at school too. The boys' formal education included a lot of Classics. The girls were just as familiar with classical references as these brothers.

I plan to say some more about the poems in the talk I'm giving on Thursday March 7th. More on this soon...

Shameful profligacy and disappointment at Cambridge, school reports, and an insult suffered at the hands of two Headlam young men

Over the last couple of weeks, I've increasingly enjoyed the glimpses I've had into the lives and interests of the Headlam young people that their letters provide. What I had not found all that much yet, though, was anything concerning their formal education.

Palace Green photographed from Whorton Park (see below) after an eventful day finding out about Headlam young men

That changed today. By today I mean Wednesday 28th February - as ever, it's taken me a few days to finalise typing up and to add in the quotations, some of which have needed to be retrieved from the photos I took of particular documents whose handwriting can take a while to decipher...

Photo of 5 North Bailey, the Ironside provider I read about on my previous day with the Headlam Papers 

As I've mentioned previously, on my first very day with the Headlam Papers, I read a letter from Francis John to his sister Isabella sent when he was just a short time into his time at Eton. My account of finding that letter - and getting quite enthusiastic about it - is here. Today, I got to read about this young man - and some of his brothers - from the teachers and others who were writing to his father John Headlam.

The correspondence I looked at today was dated between from 1833 and 1847 and - neatly and coincidentally - it was topped and tailed with things concerning Cambridge. 

Indeed now I think of it, so many of my days have had their arcs - each has been distinctive - and yet this hasn't been through design. Rather, what I've looked at has been determined by what the librarians find it easiest to retrieve. I'll return to this point later in this post...

The first Cambridge-related letter, from 1833, was from a Thomas Smith saying - amidst providing news of his own family (a daughter getting married... a son going into Law...) that he is pleased to hear that John's son - this must be his oldest son, Thomas Emerson - is doing well academically given that:

there is a shameful profligacy at Cambridge, & as I have understood, no less at Oxford

The other, meanwhile, concerned another of John's sons, Arthur. Arthur must presumably have been one of the Cambridge students who managed to keep away from anything amounting to 'shameful profligacy' at university, since he is being congratulated on his success in the Classical Tripos. This, I would come to find out as the day unfolded, was characteristic of the academic success of this particular son.

In between reading these two letters concerned with Cambridge, I saw letters conveying how well - or not - John's sons were progressing at several schools, and at Cambridge and Durham Universities, the latter of which then very-newly established.

Many of the papers were in the form of bills for school fees and updates on the progress and wellbeing of the youngest three sons, from 1836 onwards. 

I will need to go though all these letters carefully - in some cases I've only had time for a quick read though, and sometimes a not very satisfactory read though as the handwriting can take time to decipher. But I have photos of the key letters, so this is something I can follow up on.

I'll start with the oldest of the three, Edward. There were some striking details such as his tendency to talk in class, which is noted in a letter of 6 August 1839, as is Edward's 'resistance to authority'. Conversely, though, he is described as a 'very good boy' in a letter of 1843. 

The son for whom there was the most consistency is the middle of the three: Arthur. The reports keep stating that he is doing well and that he excels, notably, at Maths.

As for Francis John, whose 1841 letter from Eton I had read a couple of weeks earlier, his progress was variable. In a letter from when he will have been around ten - dated 13 June 1839 -  he is described as progressing well, although, John is advised, he needs to work on his Latin composition. A letter of 31 December of the same year, meanwhile, reports on his progress, especially in Latin, and says that he is due to start Greek too - suggesting I assume that he is doing sufficiently well to be given this opportunity (no. 259 in the catalogue - that note is for me!). 

When Francis moves to Eton, however, his promise isn't matched by his progress. In a letter of 1841, for example, John is told that Francis will need to work harder both at school and during the holidays at home. 

Something must have worked though: for letters from 1843 note an improvement in his progress.

That's all I am able to share at the moment about the individual boys. I need to go though everything - ideally once I've got my photos off my phone and put them on a larger screen, or even printed them out. But I have the raw evidence at least and am able to give at least an overview of what I have found. I need to stress though that I've not got everything sorted out yet - though that can be fixed once I go though everything. 

This includes: which boy is being referred to in each case, and which school they are at any point - apart from Eton in the case of Francis. That is the one school I am clear on, helped by the fact that on my first day in the archives, I read the letter from there that I keep mentioning. Other schools that appear are Durham Grammar School and Sedbergh - another Grammar School? 

I wonder what determined which school each boy would go to - given that it's Arthur who was most consistently successful, for instance, why not Eton for him?

There were some other bits of information I should mention, including ones that give some information about the classical texts that will have been studied...

I saw a list of classical texts from 1838 (250 in the catalogue)

From 1853 [check], meanwhile, there is a bill (320 in the catalogue) from 1853 for a list of books including some classical texts [info to follow - or message me via susan.deacy@bristol.ac.uk or iodama2000@yahoo.com if you would like this sooner].

The bills from Durham Grammar School include fees for Greek and Latin, for Latin only (cheaper than for both languages), Maths (cheaper still) and French ('when desired'). There are fees listed for entrance exams in Classics and Mathematics, and for scholarships in Greek and Latin.

In addition to the correspondence concerning the progress of John's sons at school, I read two letters dealing with different matters.

One was concerned with an insult that the author, a man named Arthur Lonsdale, had suffered at the hands of two of John's sons when they had knocked him down while riding on horse back and never apologised. This letter only gives a date of 'Thursday evening', though, according to a note from the archivist in the online Catalogue, it dates to around 1835. 

Who could the two sons have been? John had six sons who survived infancy:

• Thomas Emerson 1813-1875
• John 1818-1871
• Morley 1822-1884
• Edward 1824-1884
• Arthur William 1826-1909
• Francis John 1829-1908

So Thomas will have been around 22, John around 17,  Morley around 13, Edward around 11, Arthur around 9 and Francis John around 6. I'm tempted to think Thomas and John in view of their ages, though Morley and Edward would be possible as well. I'm not going to speculate, however, as I don't have any idea how old boys will have been when they started riding...

There is so much I don't know and would like to know indeed...

As for the other letter that didn't fit the pattern, this one also concerns something that the author is unhappy about. It's from the oldest son, Thomas Emerson, and was sent a year later than the one from Mr Lonsdale, in June 1836. Here, writing from Cambridge (this is the only thing I read to day authored BY one of John's children), Thomas shares with his father how deeply disappointed he is to have failed to get a University scholarship - so much so that he now feels tired of Cambridge. 

Reading the sense of disappointment and disillusionment that comes through felt all the more poignant to me coming as it did following a letter I'd just read of April of the same year from a Charlotte Downes with whom Thomas ('Tom' she calls him) had been staying where she expresses her hope for his success.

A couple more things that interested me - of a general kind. 

Firstly, the previous letters I'd read had been sent in envelopes - and some of the original envelopes were still present - and as I've mentioned, one letter I found was still IN its envelope. But the ones I looked at today were the earliest letters I'd looked at to date and they turned out to date from before envelopes were commonly being used. Instead, the correspondents had folded up their sheet/s of paper and fixed the letter with a wax seal. 

I've just done some very quick research into the use of wax seals and see that the colour of the seal would depend on such things as the gender of the author (red if from a man, for instance) and whether the author was in mourning in which case they'd use a black seal. When I was working my way though the letters, what interested me was the very fact that there were seals rather than envelopes. In the future, I'll pay attention to the colour of the seal.

But even if I had known what I now do about the colour of wax seals, I wouldn't have had all that much time to consider which colour particular correspondents had used. This is because - and here I get to the second general point about today's session with the Collection - I approached the task of working through correspondence differently today than previously. 

As I mentioned in my posting about what I did yesterday, I spent time away from the library while the librarian worked out what further materials could be retrieved for me. While I was waiting, I decided to create a long-list of documents that looked particularly relevant to my project. Then, when back in the library, I focused almost exclusively on these documents. 

This meant that I read more than on previous days that was directly relevant to my research, but with two drawbacks. Firstly, I lost the excitement at coming unexpectedly upon something concerned with young people. Secondly, I was aware that I was potentially missing interesting stuff that, while not directly relevant to my project, might help give context for the Headlams. The letter I read on my first day with the Collection about Isabella's correspondent's hunt for baskets, for instance, had helped put the information that Francis John shared with her about what he was up to at school into context.

As I may, therefore, have missed interesting things, I would like some time to go back to these folders. For now however, as my time with the collection is so short, efficiency can win out.

I'm sorry that this posting isn't as complete as I'd like it to be - as I found so much, I haven't had time to share all of it. But I've tried to give an overview at least. 

After the library closed, I made my way as usual to the train station. As my train was delayed, I had a wander around and discovered steps up to Wharton Park, which, I've since found out was developed in the 1850s, so around the time of the correspondence I've been reading. The views from there over the city are stunning as these photographs - one at the top of this posting, the other above the present paragraph - hopefully convey.

More asap...

Gearing up to talk elite schooling, Classics and young people's enculturation in the Nineteenth Century via a case study of the Headlam family

This week is my final one as a Barker Fellow at Durham. I started off wondering what I'd find, if much, if anything even. As it is, I've found quite a lot, but I'm not sure quite how much as I've not had time - it's all been quite intensive - to process and reflect. I will, however, have an opportunity - on my penultimate day of the Fellowship - to share what I've been doing in a paper at the Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies at Durham.

Today, once this posting goes live, I am going to be preparing that talk, initially by revisiting my posts to this blog: both those already published, and two I've not published yet (they're very much in draft form) and so which exist currently only for me.

Here, below, is the abstract for my talk, and its title, along with a bio I wrote for the Centre. I plan to share my talk here: this is one task for me before I finish my time at Durham. This week, I'll also be finalising the postings currently in draft from. And I'll also be spending as much time as I can manage with the Special Collections. It looks set to be a full-on week...

The talk is on Thursday - for details on where and when and how to join remotely, this link gives all the information as does the first of the screenshots in this posting. 

'Meek innocence', 'ancient divines' and 'talk of Demosthenes': Elite schooling, Classics and young people's enculturation in the Nineteenth Century - a case study of the Headlam family

This paper shares the outcomes of my time as a Barker Fellow at Durham investigating the place of Classics in nineteenth-century young people's lives. It will set out how far what I have found matches what I anticipated potentially discovering based on my initial consultations of the Archives and Special Collections Catalogue while developing my application for a project then titled 'Elite schooling and young men's enculturation in the Long Nineteenth Century: a case study of the Headlam family'. It will share my research journey into the childhood experiences of Headlam young people - girls, it turns out, as well as boys - as conveyed in letters, poems and art works. Moreover, it will divulge how far the worldviews of the Headlam children are shaped by their experiences learning about anything classical.

Biography: Susan Deacy is a classicist especially interested in ancient Greek mythology, gender and religion and in the reception of Classics, particularly in children's culture and above all in autistic young people's culture. For her work seeking to diversify Classics, she is a National Reaching Fellow and a Principal Fellow of the HEA and among her other roles she is Professor Emerita of Roehampton University, Honorary Professor at Bristol University, Fellow of the Society of Antiquarians of London, Editor-in-Chief of the Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies, and co-founder of the network ACCLAIM: Autism Connecting CLAssicaly-Inspired Mythology.

Here's a screenshot of the Centre's page advertising the talk - it contains the info about plus a photo of my during my time as a Fellow discovering the Northumbria Coast.

Finding an 'Ancient Place...where future grows and shakes its wings' en route to Seven Stories: The National Centre for Children's Books

Today - Monday 26th February - I had planned to start the week with a day in the Palace Green Library. However, I didn't get there. As I said in my posting for the previous day I was in the library, I got through the boxes of papers that had been retrieved or me quicker than I'd anticipated and so I now need to wait while the librarians found out what else can be retrieved. 

(A quick explanation for why I started mentioning Monday's date but am posting this several days later: I wrote my account of what I did on Monday when I got back in that evening; then Iyped it up on Friday 1st March and added the photos and captions today, Saturday 2nd...)

This photo, along with those below, was taken on my visit to the Ouseburn Valley. Please see the end for information... 

So I spent the morning where I'm staying in Newcastle liaising via email with the librarians, whose support has been superb, while looking at the online catalogue to identify what I'd most like to look at next. There is a lot of material that looks fascinating, including in a classical-related sense, and I hope that some of it will be in a suitable state for it to be brought out...

As well planning for the remaining time in the library - just two weeks - I have left with the Collection, I wrote to accept an invitation to talk about my findings next week, on 7th March, at the Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies. This will be a raw, work-in-progress talk that gives me an opportunity to share what I have found with colleagues who have been supportive and welcoming. I'm soon going to write my abstract for the talk...

But before I get to that task, I'll share my afternoon's adventure. Just yesterday, I found out that there is a National Centre for Children's Books - called Seven Stories - in Newcastle and today I went to find it - and what a place I found, and what a location it's in, in the lovely Ouseburn Valley. I'd never heard of the Ouseburn either...

As for Seven Stories, in spaces created to entice young people - e.g. low doors to ensure and little alcoves full of things to do - I found myself in a museum that is a site of curiosity where I saw things including Enid Blyton's typewriter, an exhibition of the work of the illustrator Martin Brown, including illustrations for Horrible Histories and several classical monsters, not least, Medusa on whom I'm about to begin a project.

I ended the visit in the lively cafe/bookshop looking over the Ouseburn very thankful for this experience and hoping to return, including to consult their archives.

The photos: 'Ancient Place' street art mural in an arch along Lime Street; the entrance to Seven Stories; heading up Lime Street towards Seven Stories; a nice corner of the cafe.

'How can I appreciate the historic importance of the Nile valley if I do no know where it is': what Arthur Cayley Headlam's adult self thought about the education of young people - likewise his sister Rose Gladys

What a day (I'm referring here to Tuesday 27th February). After doing what I do every Tuesday morning, namely go jogging, I spent a chunk of the morning commuting to Durham, doing some tidying up of earlier blog postings and tweaking the abstract for my paper for the Centre for Nineteen-Century Studies next week (on which more will follow). Then I hit the ground running when the archivist who had been retrieving the next set of Headlam papers for me to look at turned to the desk and got them for me.

Cosins Hall on Palace Green in Durham - where I'll be giving my paper next week (and which is also just a minute or so from 5 North Bailey, on which see below

Now - there wasn't much classical content in all this. Plus there wasn't anything written by any of the Headlams as children. But what I read came at a good time for my project, after some days spent reading things by Headlam children, for it provided some glimpses into the grown-ups that the children I've been finding out about became. For instance, I read a poem, I assume authored by Rose:

In Memory of Scotie, The Faithfull [double l in original] Companion of Miss R. Headlam [...] a tiny dog, A Faithfull Friend, passed away Jan 22nd 1923.

This was the latest of several times when I've found myself moved at gaining a sudden window into the feelings of the people whose correspondence I have been reading. 

Staying with Rose, I also saw a lot of papers connected with her very active role in the G.F.S. 

As all the correspondents knew what the G.F.S. was, the full title was never spelt out and I resisted the temptation to look it up in the hope that the papers themselves would tell me. I could see that it was an organisation grounded in Christian values and principles, that it was run by women and that the 'G' likely stood for 'Girls' or possibly 'Guides'. Then, right at the back of one of the folders, I reached a letter written on letter headed paper which gave it: Girls' Friendly Society.

I saw that Rose was active in the Society - indeed, she seems to have pretty well run it, perhaps as a would-be tyrant from one set of papers I saw containing drafts of a speech she was preparing that seems to be making a case for a major change in the direction of the Society in response to changing social values. 

There was, what's more, a letter from her brother Arthur Cayley Headlam, now the Bishop of Gloucester, advising her against her desired course of action which turns out to be an attempt to change both Central Rule of the Society.

I would like, at some point, to find out more about all this. These is sufficient material, I'd say, for a study of the G.F.S. at an time when attitudes about young women - and attitudes of young women - were on the move.

As for Arthur, he too emerged as someone of firm views who wasn't afraid to take issue with others, including in respect to children's education. In a piece in the Telegraph of Monday, September 13, 1937, for example, he responds to the arguments of a Mr Wells who had recently spoken in favour of a more progressive educational methods. For example, while Mr Wells favours teaching children the characteristics of various peoples rather than 'the names of countries, rivers' etc., Arthur considers that a child 'must know the names of places before he can learn about them'. After all, Arthur asks:

How can I appreciate the historic importance of the Nile valley if I do no know where it is?

And while, he states, Mr Wells favours 'eliminating the personal element from historical study', in his own view:

Children learn best through stories, and the stories of English history from the time of Alfred and the Cakes are much more likely to impress themselves on children's minds than the abstract ideas which no doubt they ought to attain eventually.

In a later document I read, this time in a tribute to Arthur after he had died, I found the attitudes conveyed in Arthur's letter to be echoed. This was in a report in the Gloucester Citizen of Wednesday, January 26, 1949 by his former pupil, the Dean of St Pauls, Dr W. R. Matthews.

'He had a reverence for facts, and very little reverence for theories', Dr Matthews is reported to have said, so much so that he 'sometimes [he] found his suspicion of brilliant theories exasperating'. Reviewing Arthur's scholarly writing - on the New Testament, Church History and 'the restatement of the Christian faith', meanwhile, he writes: 

He knew exactly what he wanted to say and he said it forcibly.

From the sublime to the... Among the papers concerning Arthur, I also saw a letter about an Ironside sent from 5 North Bailey. I'm only sharing this because I must have walked passed this address many times over the past couple of weeks. On my way to Palace Green tomorrow, I'll pause there. 

I'm not sure what an Ironside is...

More soon - when whatever I find, I anticipate that the posting will include a photo of 5 North Bailey.