Norman’s wisdom

We were in a club, discussing Norman Stone, recently departed, over a meal that he would have enjoyed. Norman divided opinions. This manifested itself in his obituaries. Professor Sir Richard Evans summed up for the prosecution. He cited Norman’s failure to build on his early scholarly promise and his chronic neglect of academic duties. He concluded by quoting an old adversary of Norman’s, who described him as ‘amoral’.

This is a difficult verdict to refute. Yet it is only part of the picture. He won the enduring affection of most of his best pupils, despite — or because of — his unorthodox methods. In Norman’s Cambridge days, an earnest young man turned up for his first supervision. No Stone. Next week, ditto. Third week, the youngster arrived in a belligerent mood, determined to complain to his director of studies if there was another no-show. Knocks on the door: no reply. But just as the pupil was about to stalk off in a rage, a faint voice said ‘Come in.’ Norman, who had forgotten all about the supervision, was having a bath. Unfazed — history does not relate whether the same was true of his visitor — Norman invited him to pull up a chair and read his essay. After a couple of paragraphs, Norman exclaimed, ‘No, no, no.’ ‘What d’you mean, no, no, no?’ replied the pupil, his dander still up. ‘That’s not how the French do things.’ ‘How am I supposed to know that?’ ‘Surely you’ve been to France?’ ‘No.’ ‘Fetch me a towel.’ Twenty minutes later, they were heading for the Channel ports. Nor does history relate how many other supervisions Norman missed during his absence.