I was deeply saddened to learn of the passing of Professor Rosamond McKitterick a little over a week ago. Anyone with more than a few hours (at most) of exposure to early medieval history will be aware of Rosamond’s enormous contribution to the field. Her legacy is considerable and secure, and achieved – it is worth saying – in the face of some pretty unpleasant academic politicking too. Indeed, in some ways, in formal terms at least, I don’t think that Rosamond got the recognition she deserved. Be all that as it may, there will of course be an outpouring of reminiscence and well-deserved appreciation of Rosamond as scholar, teacher, colleague and friend, from people much better placed than I. I did however want to add a few words of my own.
Rosamond is well-known for her devotion to her students, but
that generosity went far beyond that. From the moment I started my D.Phil. (as
it then was), Rosamond was very friendly to me. She was very welcoming to a
very awkward (and, as I now know, autistic) young post-grad from a (at best)
not-very-academic background (comprehensive school, provincial ‘60s university
without, at that point, any reputation for producing doctoral students) who
didn’t really know what to say or how to behave [still doesn't!]. There were not many others of
that generation and background that I could say that about. Having encouraged
me (via my supervisor, an old friend of hers) in my choice of doctoral research
area, Rosamond remained supportive throughout my career. I don’t know but I
strongly suspect that she had some role in suggesting that Bill Davies at CUP
offer me the opportunity to write the ‘Cambridge Medieval Text-Books’ volume on
the Barbarian Migrations (though I also suspect a lot of people must have said ‘no’
first!) when I had only just started in my first permanent post. Whatever the
case, I still have the lovely post-card she sent (in which she had illuminated
the first letter in Carolingian style) congratulating me on the appearance of Settlement
and Social Organisation, and another telling me how much she had thoroughly
enjoyed my ‘pugnacious review article’ (‘Movers and Shakers…’) in EME: ‘I
hope it wakes a few people up!’
What I really appreciated about Rosamond was that her
support and encouragement came even though what I work(ed) on was, in the theme
and approach (and interpretation) so different from her own area of specialism.
There are very few academic historians who have that kind of broad enthusiasm
(I am certainly not one!).
I valued Rosamond’s friendship very highly. When, in Summer
1997, I wrote to excuse something (probably a failure to reply more quickly) on
the grounds that my wife had just left me, she replied promptly, ‘what a stupid
woman; come and have lunch with me in Cambridge’. There was a warmth there, an
empathy, kindness and willingness to engage with people who were in a bit of a
raw emotional state that – again – I didn’t experience in many others of that
generation.
I was very glad to see Rosamond at last year’s IMC, and
delighted that she came over to say hello; very happy indeed that she got to
meet my little boy; and pleased that we exchanged a couple of emails afterwards
on the topic. Like many others, her illness took me by surprise and, two days
later, before I could write anything, she was gone.
Rest in peace, Rosamond; I, and many, many others, will miss
you.
