In my job, every day brings something new. Today I have given an eighteenth century tapestry (back) to a French Count. And it was a very moving event. The key lies in that little word in parentheses - (back).
In 1959 the then Vice-Chancellor of the University bought, from a reputable art dealer, a handsome tapestry to hang in what was then the principal meetings room of the University - a room that henceforth became known as the Tapestry Room. I have often admired the tapestry - and will confess that sometimes I have done so whilst chairing meetings at times when the discussion could go on without intervention from me.
Recently the room was modernized and redecorated, and the tapestry no longer matched the style so, with some reluctance on various people's parts, a decision was made that it should be sold. But when it went into the auctioneer's catalogue it was spotted on the missing art register as being a tapestry that had once hung in a chateau in Normandy, France, and that had disappeared in the period immediately after D-Day, when armies were criss-crossing the province and chaos and confusion reigned. The University withdraw the tapestry from sale, and we took the obvious decision to give it back to its rightful owners.
This restitution of property alienated from its owners at the end of the second world war is something I have taught students about - specifically in relation to the restitution of Jewish property in East Berlin after 1989 and the impact that had on gentrification processes in districts such as Prenzlauer Berg: this was one of the themes explored by students in projects during the 13 years I took students to Berlin on field classes.
But here was I, today, being involved in our own bit of property restitution. When I took the Count into the room where the tapestry was laid out he was visibly moved. He knew all about the history of the tapestry, knew about its association with the last pre-war occupant of his chateau - a great uncle who died in a concentration camp as a result of his activities in the Resistance. There was still a space on the wall for the tapestry's return. He had seen pre-war photographs of the tapestry in place, but this was the first time he had seen it for real. He particularly pointed out the arms of one of his ancestors, woven into the design, so that this tapestry was much more particular to his family than to anyone else who might see it. We made little speeches in French - the Count explaining what the restitution of the tapestry meant to his family, and me explaining how pleased we were to be returning it to its rightful owners - not having realized its provenance.
But one other nice touch was the Count's delight that the tapestry had come into the possession of a University where such things would be cared for an respected. All in all it was a lovely and very fitting occasion. And he has invited us to celebrate its return with a visit to the chateau. That will be an appropriate ending to an interesting story.
In 1959 the then Vice-Chancellor of the University bought, from a reputable art dealer, a handsome tapestry to hang in what was then the principal meetings room of the University - a room that henceforth became known as the Tapestry Room. I have often admired the tapestry - and will confess that sometimes I have done so whilst chairing meetings at times when the discussion could go on without intervention from me.
Recently the room was modernized and redecorated, and the tapestry no longer matched the style so, with some reluctance on various people's parts, a decision was made that it should be sold. But when it went into the auctioneer's catalogue it was spotted on the missing art register as being a tapestry that had once hung in a chateau in Normandy, France, and that had disappeared in the period immediately after D-Day, when armies were criss-crossing the province and chaos and confusion reigned. The University withdraw the tapestry from sale, and we took the obvious decision to give it back to its rightful owners.
This restitution of property alienated from its owners at the end of the second world war is something I have taught students about - specifically in relation to the restitution of Jewish property in East Berlin after 1989 and the impact that had on gentrification processes in districts such as Prenzlauer Berg: this was one of the themes explored by students in projects during the 13 years I took students to Berlin on field classes.
But here was I, today, being involved in our own bit of property restitution. When I took the Count into the room where the tapestry was laid out he was visibly moved. He knew all about the history of the tapestry, knew about its association with the last pre-war occupant of his chateau - a great uncle who died in a concentration camp as a result of his activities in the Resistance. There was still a space on the wall for the tapestry's return. He had seen pre-war photographs of the tapestry in place, but this was the first time he had seen it for real. He particularly pointed out the arms of one of his ancestors, woven into the design, so that this tapestry was much more particular to his family than to anyone else who might see it. We made little speeches in French - the Count explaining what the restitution of the tapestry meant to his family, and me explaining how pleased we were to be returning it to its rightful owners - not having realized its provenance.
But one other nice touch was the Count's delight that the tapestry had come into the possession of a University where such things would be cared for an respected. All in all it was a lovely and very fitting occasion. And he has invited us to celebrate its return with a visit to the chateau. That will be an appropriate ending to an interesting story.
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