My first memory of Gabriel Pearson is of the relish with which he read his parody of Jacobean tragedy, The Skull’s Revenge. This was one evening at the Writers’ Club in 1956; his co-reader was Adrian Mitchell. The same exuberance figured in his impersonations of the demonic Quilp when he lectured on Dickens.
His enjoyment of literature was infectious, which can’t be said of every professor of English. His recall was almost total: when I mentioned that I’d been reading Scott’s The Legend of Montrose he came back with five minutes of plot summary and comment.
His intelligence was intensely sympathetic and humane. No student needed fear injustice when he was the external examiner.
