Terence Rattigan”s career reached it peak in the Forties and Fifties, when he had an apparently endless string of hits including THE WINSLOW BOY, THE BROWNING VERSION and WHO IS SYLVIA? Then, so theatrical mythology informs us, he dropped out of the theatrical firmament in favour of the so-0called “Angry Young Men” spearheaded by Jimmy Porter and Arthur Seaton (of SATURDAY NIGHT AND SUNDAY MORNING inflame).
The only snag with that story is that it is hogwash. Rattigan was very much in vogue throughout the Fifties and has remained so ever since. His subjects might seem a little archaic to us, but his characterisations remain as fresh and exciting as they were seventy years ago. Rattigan has the gift of insight into a particular type of character who still dominates the professions, as well as understanding the effect he exerts on people of all classes and ages. In this piece, I want to explore this character in detail, drawing on some personal experiences as well as examples from Rattigan’s work.
I was educated at an English public school. Apart from a good basic education, the element I remember most is the proliferation of single men, or unhappily married men that dominated the staff. They were not precisely unhappy, but they certainly were not happy in themselves. One was much more adept with an astronomical telescope than he was at teaching geography, while another had a longing to do drama rather than teach plays for exams. Even as a teenager, I got the sense that these men had been forced by circumstances to teach, even though they did not like the vocation that much. Don’t get me wrong; they were fond of the boys but could not abide the subjects they were teaching. There were some who could be described as “perverted” with unnatural feelings towards young boys, but they were well known and avoided. No: the more intriguing were the heterosexual men with no aptitude for their chosen profession, other than getting boys through the exams.
Arthur Crocker-Harris is a similar kind of personality (in THE BROWNING YERSION). A brilliant classical scholar in his youth, he began his career full of aspirations to write as well as produce exciting versions of AGAMEMNON. But the dreams came to nothing, and he has passed the time teaching the syllabus while never being able to connect with his students or his fellow-staff members.
His basic shortcoming is an inability to understand that teaching is a complex art that involves person skills: the ability to listen to as well as respond to others. This is a problem shared by many Dulwich staff of the past , when I was there especially. The causes are institutional as well as personal. Schools are so obsessed with exams that they often neglect the social aspects of education: the ability to stimulate learners in whatever direction they choose. This is partly due to ignorance, partly fear: give a learner too much freedom and they will challenge your authority.
So Crocker-Harris digs his own grave for himself. Neither able to change his style nor practice inter relating better with the students, he stays where he is. When we encounter him, he is on his last day at the school, reflecting bitterly on a wasted life. In 1948, when the play premiered, this was a.hot topic, as many people felt that the spirit of newness prevailing since the end of World War 2 had passed them by. There might be a Welfare State and a new National Health Service, but such legislation had little or no effect. These men were part of an older generation for whom life had passed them by. They just struggled on doing the same thing year after year and hopefully with a minimal pension to look forward to at the end of one’s life. Cricket-Harris doesn’t even have this consolation: forced by illness to retire early, the school governors have decided not to award him a pension, despite years seesseof devoted service.
For the bulk of the play, we are asked to sympathise with Crocker-Harris, with the knowledge that personal inadequacy dug the grave he finds himself in. He could have made more effort, we think. When I was at school, I used to think this about frustrated teachers: why didn’t they have sufficient gumption to change their lives?
But here’s the rub. I have always advocated human adaptation as a mode of self-improvement. Understand that there are myriads of opportunity, personal as well as professional, just waiting to be grasped, provided you look hard enough. But what happens to those who can’t this because of themselves, their circumstances, or the people surrounding them? This is where Rattigan cuts to the chase, and why he is so significant fir adaptation studies. Crocker-Harris is imprisoned in a sink-hole job, with a loveless marriage and a unsympathetic headmaster who’d rather placate the governors and engage a new, younger teacher who will automatically attract popularity. Crocker-Harris has nowhere to go except to teach English at a Cramer for eight months of the year. The moment of truth arrives two thirds of the play, when Taplow, the boy finishing off his Greek course with some private study sessions, buys Crocket-Harris a small leaving-present of Broiwning’s translation of the AGAMEMNON. Crocker-Harris realises that, contrary to what he assumed, the students respected him. His classes might not have been that entertaining, but they were not as bad as Crocker-Harris had assumed. In a sequence of unendurable poignancy, he begins to cry, even in front of Taplow. For the first time he has allowed his emotions to flow - a definite bad mark as far as the school ethos is concerned, but a positive development fir Crocker-Harris.
Rattigan here emphasises the importance of emotion, of being true to oneself as well as others, irrespective of the situation. It’s a lesson as true today as it was in 1948 when the play was written. If you acknowledge to yourself the presence of powerfulr emotions within you, you are on the road to successful adaptation. It is just that people find it difficult to admit this, whatever the context. Just think if Barry Evans, one of my schoolteachers, had felt he could talk more about his passion for astronomy, or to admit his homosexuality, or even admit his professional frustrations to his students. I had the same dilemmas when I talk about having cancer, but have discovered that students learn more about me, and I learn more about them, if I do.
And that\s the major lesson of THE BROWNING VERSION. It’s not about much in terms of content, but describes Crocker-Harris”s mental discovery that he has a heart and soul just like everyone. It’s just a matter of finding it, that’s all. The play ends with a pyrrhic victory, as Crocker-Harris calls the headmaster and insists that he will claim his right to speak last at Parents’ Day, even though the headmaster wanted a younger and more popular teacher who is leaving to fulfil that role. Crocker-Harris has had enough of being pushed around; it’s tome to assert himself, even though no one has seen this personality before.
The play has resonance for me, because it not only describes a culture I know well, but because it deals with emotions of the heart. It forces viewers to reflect on themselves, and consider whether they should made similar processes of mental adjustment Most significantly, it confirms how adaptation as a vitally trans historical power, influencing all our lives.
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