Harrodian staff and students shared fond memories of Latin and Classics teacher Dr Gottfried Mader at a memorial event on 6th November.
Colleagues, pupils past and present, parents and friends gathered in early November for a memorial event organised to pay tribute to Dr Gottfried Mader, who passed away in June after 14 years spent teaching Latin and Classics at Harrodian. It was inevitably a sad moment for all those who knew and admired Dr Mader or were taught by him but the evening also provided the opportunity to share smiles and stories about a unique man who combined a lifelong and brilliant passion for the Classical world and total commitment to his students with a wry and esoteric sense of humour.
Mr Hooke introduced proceedings with an appreciation of Dr Mader and Head of Classics, Genevieve Seaton followed by reprising the heartfelt tribute she wrote after Gottfried's death in June (which you can find here). These tributes were followed by two personal contributions, one from Classics Department colleague Adam Lineker and the other from Head of Harrodian Sixth Form, Alison Heller. We have decided to reproduce these tributes in full below as they are full of insightful personal and often amusing reflections and memories which provide a rounded picture of a brilliant scholar, a dedicated teacher and a complex, kind and courageous man.
'Only one Gottfried Mader' by Adam Lineker
Gottfried Mader was, in many ways, a remarkable man. I do mean that in the full sense of the expression. A little brilliant, a little unusual and always himself. In that way, I always felt he was very much one of us at Harrodian; we, too, are a little brilliant, a little unusual. It would seem that Gottfried also felt similarly; after all, he left us twice and came back again both times. You don’t really get more Harrodian than that.
Gottfried Mader was, in many ways, a remarkable man in the full sense of the expression. A little brilliant, a little unusual and always himself.
Gottfried was never one to blow his own trumpet or boast of his own achievements. He was humble and stoic and he mostly kept himself to himself. He never used his title of Dr. with pupils, often provoking some confused glances when I felt duty bound to apply the honorific in front of them. Even so, one would pick up on little flashes of his brilliance through working with him. I often shared a room at parents evening with him, and always marvelled at his fluency in multiple languages, as he effortlessly switched between them depending on the parent that came to the appointment. In providing scholarship to our A Level Classics pupils, it was always a bit of a moment to hand them Aeneid scholarship that was actually written by Dr Mader; namely a particular paper on a single simile in the Aeneid that he argued changed the meaning of the whole work. Having recently spent time organising a significant selection from his own personal library, it steadily landed that there were only five categories of books: Classical works in Greek, Latin and English translation, Classical scholarship, Classical works and scholarship in French, Italian and German, political theory and sheet music for the classical guitar, of which he was an avid student and player.
Gottfried was never one to blow his own trumpet or boast of his own achievements. He was humble and stoic and he mostly kept himself to himself. He never used his title of Dr. with pupils,
Of all the things potentially absent, one thing stood out: There was no fiction at all. Gottfried was a true academic, fully devoted to his field of learning. However, there was another side to him, a more whimsical side. He had a riotous and colourful sense of humour. It wasn’t necessarily ‘your’ sense of humour, but it was always there and readily expressed. When I think of Gottfried, I think of him leaning in for a joke most of all and I am reminded of the epitaph of the famously tone deaf English Opera singer Florence Foster-Jenkins: “many people said that I could not sing, but nobody can say that I DID not sing.”
His sense of humour was a part of the experience of being his colleague, He used to call me “the old rake”, which I’ll admit, I rather liked. I was quite fond of that. He also used to call Mr Glen “the reverend”, which only caused mild confusion. One time, Gottfried jumped out at me as I walked between lessons, dressed as a werewolf, with full hairy mask on, laughed uproariously and walked away. It was not Hallowe’en. And there was also the monty python esque time somebody left a rubber fish in the staff room and he took great delight in using it to beat Mr Woodward.
How should one reconcile the serious academic and the madcap humorist? With Gottfried, I believe it came down to a love of absurdity
Such whimsy spilled over into his lessons and influenced his teaching style as well. His Latin PowerPoints were famously punctuated with appearances from memes, heroes from the Marvel universe such as Captain America and his cartoon stereotype of a nerdy student, who was referred to as Willard.
How should one reconcile these two modes - the serious academic and the madcap humourist? Well, put simply, people can be many different things, but with Gottfried, I believe it came down to a love of absurdity. An appreciation of ridiculous things. To demonstrate such a counterpoint, amongst the substantial, high academia that Gottfried contributed to our department is a DVD collection of old sword and sandals pulpy B movies. Things like Hercules Unchained, starring famous strongman Steve Reeves. I was confused as to why he had included a copy of the black and white Universal horror classic The Creature From The Black Lagoon, until I later gathered that he had been showing it to his 11s Latinists.
To move things away from tributing Gottfried’s comic side to a more serious note, it is also to be recognised that Dr Mader was also known for working extremely hard and being a very dedicated teacher, and no time really did he demonstrate this more profoundly than in his final acts as a Harrodian. When one becomes a teacher, one adopts a career with a public life. A teacher is something of a local celebrity. An unglamourous D list celebrity, and even more so at Harrodian - H list perhaps - but even so, a public figure. When a person who is a public figure approaches the end of life, the more common occurrence is that such a person retires from their public life and quietly goes into a more private existence until a day in the future brings their former public some sad news.
This is not what happened with Gottfried, who stoically continued to work almost up until the point he went into hospital for the final time. As such, he remained our colleague practically until the end. While there were likely many reasons for his refusal to give up, I believe it was his commitment to getting his final exam students over the line and into their A Levels and GCSEs that drove him. In that he demonstrated the purity of his vocation. For that, he deserves not only our sympathy but our earnest admiration. His final students have credited his dedication; their results this summer were truly exceptional.
It has been an odd time for Genevieve and I returning to school without Dr Mader. We have continued to stumble across little signs of him here and there; postcards of Iron Man shoved into ancient texts. His notes, in his distinctive red handwriting, punctuating the margins of our textbooks. Paper resources with his inimitable style here and there in our classrooms. It does feel as if his presence hasn’t left us yet. I have found myself reflexively glancing through the library window as I walk past his old spot to check in on him. I miss him.
In closing, perhaps I did Gottfried a disservice in calling him merely remarkable. Perhaps unique would have been more fitting. One final story then - at our classics conference a few years back, I became aware of a visiting professor, seated at the back of the room, looking over, with rapt attention and curiosity at Gottfried. I walked over to him and the man said with no small impact “that’s Gottfried Mader.” “Yes” I said, “I work with him here. You recognise him, do you know him?” The man looked at me as if I’ve asked him if the Pope is Catholic. “Oh” he said. “There’s only one Gottfried Mader.”
The Humble Expert by Alison Heller
My earliest memory of Gottfried was when the Sixth Form office was still on what we call the A Level corridor. David Behan and I were both working in our office and Gottfried’s Latin and Classic’s room was next door. Gottfried was having a time of it with the computer and I went in and helped him. That very small gesture, which he saw as an act of kindness seemed to determine that we would be friends for life and he repaid that kindness many times over.
Gottfried was warm and giving but did not suffer fools. I was lucky enough to be called his friend and that manifested itself in regular witty remarks, a welfare check or, and most joyously, the most random texts I’ve ever had. Gottfried would send me images of old American film posters and make very clever comment in relating them to classical mythology or and often as well to Harrodian….
Gottfried was, I think we would all agree, an expert in his field. I would go as far as to say he was rather a genius but he hid his light under a bushel
Gottfried was, I think we would all agree, an expert in his field. I would go as far as to say he was rather a genius but he hid his light under a bushel. Gottfried was humble: most pupils did not know he was Dr Mader and called him Mr Mader. I was fortunate enough to know that he wrote academic papers for the most prestigious universities and when he finished each one, he would say “Alison, I have had a baby” once I got over the oddity of this comment, I realised, he had one published and I would shortly be getting a copy. I felt very clever sitting down and reading one of Gottfried’s papers, but I have to admit, that I understood only a little of what each contained because it was sublimely academic. I was very privileged however, that he even considered me a worthy recipient.
I was fortunate enough to know that he wrote academic papers for the most prestigious universities and when he finished each one, he would say “Alison, I have had a baby”
We shall all miss Gottfried. He loved the school, adored the children and had great friendships with members of staff. He left us too soon but certainly won’t be forgotten. In true Classical or Senecan fashion, his legacy will live on through the stories of others and long may they reign.