In fact, Dr Toynbee, who passed away in January aged 105, might well remember who she was talking to, for as a rural doctor she inspired respect and affection among those in her Ryedale ‘patch’ for listening at length to those she treated.
Described as ‘amazing and incredible’ by those who knew her, Jean led a remarkable life.
The granddaughter of HH Asquith, the former British prime minister, she defied conventions of the time, going to university to study medicine and inspiring the novel National Velvet – which later became a film starring Elizabeth Taylor – through her love of horses.
Jean Constance Asquith was born in London in 1920, the second of four daughters of Brigadier General Arthur Asquith and his wife Betty (née Manners).
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A young Jean Toynbee on the right, with her two sisters and her mother, Betty Manners. © National Portrait Gallery, London
Her father was the third son of Henry Herbert Asquith, the Liberal prime minister from 1908 to 1916 and later 1st Earl of Oxford and Asquith. Her mother Betty was a daughter of the 3rd Baron Manners.
Jean had a privileged childhood, and horses were a central part of her early years. Family holidays to Clovelly, in Devon, involved transporting the horses with them by train — a photograph in the National Portrait Gallery collection shows a 14-year-old Jean with two of her sisters quite at home posing atop three horses.
Reputedly the author Enid Bagnold, her mother’s friend, was inspired by Jean’s love of horses to write the novel National Velvet (1935), which was later turned into a Hollywood film starring a young Elizabeth Taylor. The book follows the story of a 14-year-old girl named Velvet Brown, who trains and rides her beloved horse to victory in the Grand National steeplechase. And while Jean did not pursue glory with her horses, the story of a determined young woman defying expectations certainly speaks to her attitude.
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Reputedly the author Enid Bagnold, her mother’s friend, was inspired by Jean’s love of horses to write the novel National Velvet (1935), which was later turned into a Hollywood film starring a young Elizabeth Taylor.
After obtaining her unlikely medical degree from Oxford, she completed her training at the Radcliffe Infirmary in the city.
During her degree her relationship with Lawrence Toynbee — the son of the historian Arnold Toynbee and the uncle of the future columnist Polly Toynbee — flourished, and they married in 1945 in a side chapel at Westminster Cathedral. They went on to have six daughters between 1946 and 1958.
Family life started in Oxford, where she became a part-time GP in Cowley serving the community around the Morris (later British Motor Corporation) car factory. Her husband trained as an artist at the Ruskin School of Drawing and subsequently became art master at St Edward’s School.
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A 1935 portrait of Jean by William Nicholson. Nicholson had originally been asked to paint Mary, but found the characterful younger sister more appealing as a subject.
Lawrence inherited a small estate in Ganthorpe, north Yorkshire, in 1955 through his maternal grandmother Lady Mary Howard, the daughter of the 9th Earl of Carlisle and the wife of the classical scholar Gilbert Murray.
When the family finally moved to Ganthorpe ten years later, he went on to teach at Bradford College of Art — with David Hockney among his students — and Ampleforth College, of which he was an alumnus. Jean found new purpose by returning to GP practice, supporting established doctors in the villages of Ampleforth, Hovingham, Terrington and Stillington, and in her role as a medical officer at Ampleforth College.
Speaking at her funeral service, Philip Watson, one of her son-in-laws, said Jean’s absorption into Yorkshire life was greatly eased because she was herself a great ‘joiner-in’.
“She took part in bridge clubs and meals-on-wheels, then pony club events, acting as ‘doctor on call’ for point to points, Italian lessons, and invitations to her sisters to the Ryedale Festival every July.
“She once in her nineties insisted on travelling by herself in a day from Bordeaux to York by train to be on time to greet them. She was also an approachable and interested neighbour.
“Many conversations in the street in Malton would begin: ‘You won’t remember me, Dr Toynbee, but I was your patient when…’ She might in fact well remember them, since a strong part of her practitioner’s care was listening at length to their complaints, and no doubt for many that was as effective a treatment as any pill.
“She went on working into her seventies. Jean had pronounced views on many subjects but was obliged in a changing world to accept, if not adapt to, much that was different from what she had known.”
Philip said the affection and loyalty Jean inspired was in evidence at her funeral service.
“Her openness to people and her endless curiosity, emotional and intellectual, was always in evidence.
“She couldn’t resist inviting every heating engineer, plumber, electrician, gardener or builder in: ‘Won’t you have a glass of wine?’ Morning or evening made no difference. Her impeccable manners never left her, even in her last weeks of sleepy dementia.
“Which is not to say that she was ever a push-over. She belonged to the generation which eschewed soppy sentimentality and advised people to ‘pull themselves together’; though she did say with surprise that even as late as the 1940s her medical course had provided a total of only half an hour’s mental health training.
After Lawrence died in 2002 Jean suffered other tragedies with similar fortitude, two of her daughters dying before her.
Philip said: “This must have been very hard but, at least in my hearing, Jean rarely spoke of it. And, though not so harrowing, four of her sons-in-law died before her. No doubt these blows were a little softened by her great fondness for her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and step-grandchildren.”
Philip said Jean scored one achievement which will be unrepeatable. She received a birthday card from both Queen Elizabeth II on her 100th and from King Charles & Queen Camilla on her 105th birthday.
“Jean herself left notes setting out the form of her funeral service. And the coffin is a simple one at her particular request, and
not just penny-pinching by the family. Jean herself always used to say ‘when I’m dead just put me on the compost’. How typical of her to wish, in a slightly unhelpful way, to be of use to others right up to the end.
Concluding the eulogy, Philip said: “I’ve avoided, I think, using two words which Jean’s daughters got rather tired of hearing in relation to their mother: ‘amazing, incredible’. Well, I’m going to use them now, because she was, wasn’t she?”
Jean passed away on January 14, 2026, aged 105. A funeral service was held at All Saints Church, Terrington.
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