 |
| Christopher Duffy at the 2003 Edinburgh International Book Festival (Photo by Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert) |
On the morning of November 16th, Christopher Duffy passed away after a brief stay at Lewisham Hospital. A famed British historian, Christopher was 86, born in April of 1936. As the editor of Christopher's Festschrift, I've been asked to share about him in a few places, so I will confine my thoughts here to Christopher the man. Obviously, Christopher was a great historian, writer, scholar and military scientist. I'll address those parts of his legacy in other settings. Here, let's focus on what made Christopher a great man.
Dealing with death and loss is nothing new. Ecclesiastes reminds us there is nothing new under the sun. One of Christopher's favorite anecdotes about Frederick the Great was the story of the loss of his friend, Hans Karl von Winterfeldt. Winterfeld had been killed at the Battle of Moys on September 7th, 1757. Frederick, hearing a rumor of this, wrote a letter to Winterfeldt, saying, "Everything is going splendidly here, but I am very worried by a rumor which has come to me from Lusatia. I don't know what to make of it. They write to me from Dresden that you have been killed." (PC 9336).
And of course, Winterfeldt had been killed. This loss effected Frederick, and late in life, as he talked about the Battle of Moys with a young officer, he exclaimed, "'That was where Winterfeldt was killed! He was a good man, a soulful man, he was my friend.' [Frederick's] great eyes brimmed with tears as he looked towards the window. He open the casement, and stood there some time before he turned back... softening his voice: Good night, I am obliged to you."' (Ense, Lebens des Generals Hans Karl von Winterfeldt, 233)
Frederick's comment on Winterfeldt: "he was a good man, a soulful man (ein Seelenmensch)" could equally be applied to Christopher. From 1995-2016, once a year Christopher traveled to South Bend, Indiana, in order to meet with the members of the Seven Years War Association, delivering an annual lecture on eighteenth-century warfare. It was in this context, in 2009 as a university student, that along with my father, uncle, and cousin, I met Christopher.
 |
| Christopher delivering a lecture at the Seven Years War Association |
Meeting your heroes is always a dicey proposition. I'd been reading Christopher's books since I was 14, and was nervous at the prospect of meeting (at least in my mind), such a famous figure. Christopher gave a wonderful lecture. Unlike so many in senior positions, or hobbyists sunk into the arcane discussions of their craft, Christopher was immediately friendly to my cousin Peter and I (the youngest people at this convention by ~15 years). He had the unenviable task of giving the jealously sought after association award that year. He chose to give it to Dean West, for, among other reasons, being particularly welcoming, "to the young people."
Over the next few years, my family and I continued to attend the convention, and I continued to speak with Christopher. Christopher always made time to sign his books, talk with me about painfully obscure questions related to eighteenth-century warfare, and give pithy advice on the nature of being a historian, such as:
"There are many places worse than small universities, big ones for a start."
"Nothing is as sinister as department policy"
"Military institutions are like hotels: look for cracks in the plaster".
"Choose a subject that will bring you to interesting people and interesting places."
You can hear some of that advice from an interview that I did with Christopher in 2020.
June, 2020 Interview Selection
As I graduated college, and began graduate school, the nature of my relationship with Christopher became more professional. I performed research for him at the National Archives of the United States, he wrote a letter of recommendation which helped secure me a place to complete my doctorate. What didn't change, however, was his witty, fun-loving demeanor, always ready to crack a joke in order to set the room at ease. Most of his lectures began with a rousing, "Listen up, you scum!" a line I still use on my undergraduate students to their delight.
Even as our relationship became more professional, you couldn't get away from the sense that he was a total ham. After celebrating his 80th birthday with the Seven Years War Association in 2016, Christopher could no longer travel to the United States: the costs, combined with his health, had simply become too great. As a result of European travel for my dissertation research, I had the opportunity to travel and see him (and perform research for him at the UK National Archives) for a number of summers between 2018-2020. He remained ever cheerful, and optimistic. Despite his advanced age, he remained focused on his work, always coming up with new ideas for projects to explore warfare in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. In 2022, he remained cheerful and determined, even as he knew the end was approaching.
Christopher was a great man: and he knew it. He'd always relish that border control agents had read his books. That greatness, however, didn't make him proud, aloof, remote, or guarded. He was warm, kind, generous, and whimsical. He tells us in his 2019 introduction to The Wild Goose and the Eagle, at the age of 10, "when I walked and cycled through the then mysterious and gnat-ridden marshes of upper Mersey, I liked to populate them in my imagination with Theresa's white coats and the blue coats of Old Fritz." Christopher never lost his boyish imagination and love of his chosen period of history. That is was made him so formidable.
Being able to edit his festschrift was one of the great honors of my life. Please feel free to share your memories of Christopher in the comments below.
Thanks for Reading,
Alex Burns
