Years ago, through the marvellous “Florence 1900” by Bernd Roeck, I found out about the Gabinetto Vieusseux in Florence – a private, subscription-only reading room and also a mandatory pitstop for the civilised, turn of the century traveller. I found their old registry books online recently and once in a while I randomly pick a month and year and go through the page to try to find anyone I might have heard of.
(I have found Giovani Papini!)
Possibly because it reminded me of the eponymous character – an academic as well -in “The Cornish Trilogy” by Robertson Davies, reading the name of a Urquhart from Balliol, Oxford gave me pause. The two turned out to be unrelated but what an interesting character this real life Urquhart was. Francis Fortescue Urquhart lived most of his life at Balliol College, eventually becoming a Dean, and “his main role… was social rather than pedagogical”. I imagine him as the larger than life academic type you see in old Evelyn Waugh-ish English movies set in Universities, throwing parties and elegant soirées in his rooms for both pleasure and edification. His main interests were in art and architecture and he would take a few chosen students to tour Europe with him in the summer. He owned a chalet in the Alps where he held reading and swimming vacations for Oxford students. He loved beautiful boys and took many photographs of them but “was celibate” -which I am not sure what it means because ever since learning that MR James was also “celibate” but participated in groping parties in Cambridge where the boys would masturbate each other, I fear Bill Clinton wasn’t the first to try to get away with a narrow definition of sexual relations.
So, I presumed this MTH Sadler from Balliol who was with Urquhart (his name is written in the same handwriting) was probably a Balliol favourite of his. It was a bit hard to track him down because he changed his name later on to Michael Sadleir. His father was also Michael Sadler, a university chancellor and education theorist, and he was probably not keen on being mistaken for his son who became a novelist writing shocking stories involving prostitutes and the Victorian underworld. Well, Sadleir was himself quite a multi faceted and learned man so it is no wonder Urquhart chose him as a touring companion to the Florentine sights. Sadleir was an art lover and, with his father, amassed a collection of German expressionist paintings in the early 20th century and was the first translator of Kandinsky’s “Concerning the Spiritual in Art”. He assisted John Middleton Murry in editing the modernist magazine Rhythm in 1911 and wrote articles on ground breaking art for the same magazine. Maybe Urquhart was taking Sadleir into the heart of the Renaissance to get his mind off the abstract, modernist rubbish.
In 1912, soon after leaving college, Sadleir became a publisher at Constable, a job he held until he retired. Among other literary interventions and discoveries, he made Jean Rhys cry because he insisted on her changing the ending of “Voyage in the Dark” – he wanted the heroine to survive the abortion rather than die. There seems to be endless feminist literary theory writing about the significance of this event.
He was a learned book collector – he became President of the Bibliographical Society and director of The Book Collector magazine – and had one of the most impressive collections of gothic literature in the country. Instead of aiming to buy famous, collectable editions, he was a curiosity hunter and was the first one to prove that the Gothic novels mentioned in Northanger Abbey were not just dramatic titles invented by Jane Austen but real ones – copies of which he unearthed. He specialised also in Victorian fiction and was possibly responsible for a revival of interest in Anthony Trollope – for which I am eternally grateful and in total agreement with Alec Guinness.
And, coincidence of coincidences, Michael Sadleir had a house not far from where I live and was buried in a cemetery only a few miles away. As if I needed a better excuse to go grave hunting once again.
The things you can discover these days without moving your behind from a sofa – except that the interior of the cemetery isn’t on Google street view and nobody has entered Sadleir into FindaGrave.com, otherwise…
(click on footnote number to return to post)
 From Urquhart’s short bio at Balliol College. Source.
 Blame Mark Gatiss and his MR James documentary on the BBC for this prurient bit of trivia. Source.
 Quoted in the Trollope Society website, Sir Alec Guinness wrote:
“A wise man told me I would learn more about life from a great novelist than from any other source. I did not believe him. Now I wouldn’t dream of going on holiday without a Trollope. He has enlarged my world.”