Adrian Lyttelton, who has aged 89, was one of the leading historians of Italian fascism. He was known above all for his groundbreaking study of the origins and early development of the fascist movement, The Seizure of Power: Fascism in Italy, a work which, first published in 1973, remains the standard text for anyone approaching the subject today. For me he was, first, the kindest of teachers, then, for more than 50 years, a colleague and great friend.
Adrian was the youngest son of Oliver Lyttelton, Winston Churchill’s minister of production during the second world war, later raised to the peerage as Viscount Chandos. His mother was Lady Moira Osborne, daughter of George Osborne, the 10th Duke of Leeds. Adrian followed the traditional family path of Eton and Oxford, although at Eton, unlike his Lyttelton forebears, he was known not for his cricketing skills but for his quick-witted humour.
At Oxford he distinguished himself with a starred first in history and was immediately elected to a research fellowship at All Souls College. It was at Oxford that he met and in 1960 married Margaret Hobson, daughter of the theatre critic Harold Hobson, and herself a formidable figure in the world of classical art and architecture.
Following almost a decade at All Souls, Adrian moved first to St Antony’s College, Oxford, then to the University of Reading. Always slightly footloose, he soon left for Bologna, becoming professor at the Johns Hopkins School for Advanced Studies. This was perhaps the happiest period in his life and he retained a strong attachment to the school, even after leaving to become, until retirement in 2000, professor in Pisa.
Sabbaticals took him to Harvard, Princeton and Washington, where he was able to work on the many characteristically brief but penetrating articles that typified his later academic production. He wrote several significant pieces for the New York Review of Books.
Adrian was immensely likable. He was generous, loyal, ironic and often very funny. He was famously absent-minded and often challenged by the smaller practical problems of life; he could, and often did, lose his briefcase on the train or the plane.
At the same time he had a remarkable memory; he could remember to the line and page something he had read more than 20 years before. More than just a historian, he was steeped in the culture of Italy, in the country’s art, music and literature, and was equally at home talking about Petrarch or Italian futurism.
His last years were marred by ill health and by the sight of Florence, his adopted city, being devastated by overtourism.
Margaret died in 1993. Adrian is survived by their children, Celia and Frederick.
