46. Quoted in Wansell, op. cit., p. 211.
47. Robert Flemyng. Letter to Terence Rattigan. [Undated.] Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74346 A.
48. Darlow, op. cit., pp. 209-10.
49. H. H. H. ‘New Rattigan Comedy: French Leave Without Tears?’ Cambridge Daily News, 10 October 1950. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74553.
50. The Times. 25 October 1950, p. 6. In print the phrase is ‘serious attention’, which I take to be an error and so have amended.
51. Daily Mail. 25 October 1950; Beverley Baxter MP. ‘This will not do, Mr Rattigan’. Evening Standard, 27 October 1950. In: Production File: Who is Sylvia?, Criterion Theatre, October 1950, V&A Blythe House Archive.
52. Alan Dent. ‘Rattigan gives us a sad smile’. News Chronicle. 25 October 1950. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74553.
53. Quoted in Wansell, op. cit., p. 211.
54. Harold Hobson. ‘A Failure by Keats, a Hit by Terence Rattigan’. Christian Science Monitor. 6 Jan 1951. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74553.
55. Harold Freedman. Letter to Terence Rattigan. 28 March 1950. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74346 A.
56. Today’s Cinema. 13 January 1955. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74553.
57. Darlow, op. cit., p. 260.
58. The production can be viewed on The Terence Rattigan Collection. 2 Entertain, 2011. DVD.
59. Stanley Richards, ed. The Best Short Plays 1970. New York: Chilton, 1970. There was also discussion with Warner Brothers about a possible American television production but this seems not to have come to anything. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74471.
60. Alan Bryce. Letter to Michael Imison. 30 October 1974. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74471.
61. [Untitled article.] Sunday Times. 1 February 1976. Production File: The Browning Version, King’s Head Theatre, January 1976, V&A Blythe House Archive.
62. He toyed with the rather unmellifluous name ‘Rosemary Bartlethwaite’ in the manuscript of Duologue. Rattigan Papers: British Library, Add. MSS. 74471.
63. Terence Rattigan. The Collected Plays of Terence Rattigan: Volume Two. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1953, p. xii.
64. See my introduction to Terence Rattigan. Cause Célèbre. London: Nick Hern Books, 2011, pp. xxvi–xxvii for a detailed account of Edith’s resemblance to Vera.
List of Rattigan’s Produced Plays
TITLE
BRITISH PREMIERE
NEW YORK PREMIERE
First Episode
(with Philip Heimann)
Q Theatre, Kew,
11 Sept 1933
(transferred to Comedy
Theatre, 26 Jan 1934
Ritz Theatre,
17 Sept 1934
French Without Tears
Criterion Theatre,
6 Nov 1936
Henry Miller Theatre,
28 Sept 1937
After the Dance
St James’s Theatre,
21 June 1939
Follow My Leader
(with Anthony Maurice,
alias Tony Goldschmidt)
Apollo Theatre,
16 Jan 1940
Grey Farm
(with Hector Bolitho)
Hudson Theatre,
3 May 1940
Flare Path
Apollo Theatre,
13 Aug 1932
Henry Miller Theatre,
23 Dec 1942
While the Sun Shines
Globe Theatre,
24 Dec 1943
Lyceum Theatre,
19 Sept 1944
Love in Idleness
Lyric Theatre,
20 Dec 1944
Empire Theatre
(as O Mistress Mine),
23 Jan 1946
The Winslow Boy
Lyric Theatre,
23 May 1946
Empire Theatre,
29 Oct 1947
Playbill (The Browning
Version and Harlequinade)
Phoenix Theatre,
8 Sept 1948
Coronet Theatre,
12 Oct 1949
Adventure Story
St James’s Theatre,
17 March 1949
A Tale of Two Cities
(from Charles Dickens,
with John Gielgud)
St Brendan’s College
Dramatic Society,
Clifton, 23 Jan 1950
Who is Sylvia?
Criterion Theatre,
24 Oct 1950
Final Test (TV)
BBC TV, 29 July 1951
The Deep Blue Sea
Duchess Theatre,
6 Mar 1952
Morosco Theatre,
5 Nov 1952
The Sleeping Prince
Phoenix Theatre,
5 Nov 1953
Coronet Theatre,
1 Nov 1956
Seperate Tables (The
Table by the Window and
Table Number Seven)
St James’s Theatre,
22 Sept 1954
Music Box Theatre,
25 Oct 1956
Variation on a Theme
Globe Theatre,
8 May 1958
Ross
Theatre Royal Haymarket
12 May 1960
Eugene O’Neill Theatre
26 Dec 1961
Joie de Vivre (with Robert
Stolz and Paul Dehn)
Queen’s Theatre,
14 July 1960
Heart to Heart (TV)
BBC TV, 6 Dec 1962
Man and Boy
Queen’s Theatre,
4 Sept 1963
Brooks Atkinson Theatre,
12 Nov 1963
Ninety Years On (TV)
BBC TV, 29 Nov 1964
Nelson – A Portrait in
Miniature (TV)
Associated Television,
21 Mar 1966
All On Her Own (TV)
(adapted for the stage as
Duologue)
BBC 2, 25 Sept 1968
A Bequest to the Nation
Theatre Royal Haymarket
23 Sept 1970
High Summer (TV)
Thames TV, 12 Sept 1972
In Praise of Love (After
Lydia and Before Dawn)
Duchess Theatre,
27 Sept 1973
Morosco Theatre,
10 Dec 1974
Cause Célèbre (radio)
BBC Radio 4,
27 Oct 1975
Duologue
King’s Head Theatre,
21 Feb 1976
Cause Célèbre (stage)
Her Majesty’s Theatre,
4 July 1977
Less Than Kind
Jermyn Street Theatre,
20 January 2011
WHO IS SYLVIA?
Who is Sylvia? was first produced at the Criterion Theatre, London, on 24 October 1950, with the following cast:
MARK
Robert Flemyng
WILLIAMS
Esmond Knight
DAPHNE
Diane Hart
SIDNEY
Alan Woolston
ETHEL
Diana Allen
OSCAR
Roland Culver
BUBBLES
Diana Hope
NORA
Diane Hart
DENIS
David Aylmer
WILBERFORCE
Roger Maxwell
DORIS
Diane Hart
CHLOE
Joan Benham
CAROLINE
Athene Seyler
Producer
Anthony Quayle
Set and Costume Designer
William Chappell
Characters
MARK
WILLIAMS
DAPHNE
SIDNEY
ETHEL
OSCAR
BUBBLES
NORA
DENIS
WILBERFORCE
DORIS
CHLOE
CAROLINE
ACT ONE
Summer 1917. About 8:00 p.m.
ACT TWO
Spring 1929. About 6:30 p.m.
ACT THREE
Winter 1950. About 6:00 p.m.
The action of the play passes in a flat in Knightsbridge.
ACT ONE
A first-floor flat in Knightsbridge. Large windows look on to a quiet street. Door backstage leads into hall, and another into bedroom. The room has an air of bachelor distinction, the furniture being considerably better chosen and displayed than the furnishings, which are rather drab and ordinary; some good pictures, mainly Dutch landscapes, a bronze head of a girl, not too conspicuously placed.
The time is about eight o’clock of a summer evening in 1917. The light has begun to fade but, as the curtain rises, we can see the dining table has been laid in the centre of the room, with two places. The room is empty.
There is the sound of the front door closing and after a moment MARK enters. He is thirty-five and plainly goes to a tailor in or near Savile Row. He is wearing a dinner jacket, single-breasted, and a white waistcoat, and is carrying an object under his arm. This, as he removes the paper, is revealed to be a bottle of champagne, which he unwraps and places on the sideboard. Then he inspects the table, making a couple of meticulous changes. He next looks round the room, paying particular attention to the sofa, whose cushions he rearranges. Then, on a sudden impulse, he goes to the window and pulls the heavy curtains, leaving the room in darkness for a moment, until he turns on the lights. These, after a second’s consideration, he dims discreetly. Then he rearranges a small vase of flowers on the table. He stands back and examines the effect, but not entirely satisfied, sits in one of the chairs at the table. Mouthing soundlessly he makes animated conversation to the other chair, and we see that he has to lean his head to one side to circumvent the flowers. He therefore removes the vase.
Now, after a final glance round the room, he appears moderately satisfied. He takes a cigarette from a case, lights it, and goes briskly to a telephone.
MARK (into telephone). Hullo… I want Sloane 7838, please. (As he waits he still glances round the room.) Cunliffe?… Yes… Is Her Ladyship there?… Yes, please… Hullo, darling… Darling, I’m afraid the most awful thing has just happened. A long dispatch from Mesopotamia has just this second come in, and it looks as if I won’t be able to get home till very late… Oh no, midnight, I should think, at the very earliest. It might be much later than that, even… Who? Oh, your father. Well, tell him how very sorry I am to miss him, will you?… Oh no, darling, don’t bother to do that – I’ll have a snack here in the office… Oh no, that’s all right. One has to get used to these things in wartime… Mesopotamia… Well, it’s the cypher they use, you see, one of the most complicated there is in the world… Yes. Kiss Denis for me – tell him to be good… Oh, did he? (Submissively.) Oh yes, darling, I quite agree. Very naughty. Yes, darling. I’ll talk to him in the morning… Oh yes, very severe, I promise… I’m so sorry about tonight… Goodnight. (Rings off and jiggles the telephone for the Exchange.) Hullo… Are you there? Yes, I’ve finished, thank you. I want Victoria 8440… Hullo, Foreign Office? This is Lord St Neots. Who’s in charge of the Middle East department tonight? Well, it’s a simple question, I should have thought you could have given me a reasonably simple answer… Look, dear lady, this is Lord St Neots. I work at the Foreign Office. I have worked at the Foreign Office for the past nine years. I simply want to know… Now how the dickens can I identify myself on the telephone? I am Viscount St Neots, the son of the Earl of Binfield. I am married. I have one child, a boy, aged five, named Denis, and I live at No. 58 Belgrave Square. Now, dear lady, if there is anything else I can tell you about myself I should be only too happy… (Furiously.) Well, you can tell Mr Mole from me that he’s a blithering idiot. If I were a German spy I wouldn’t go dashing about ringing up the Foreign Office asking who’s in charge of the Middle East department. I’d jolly well know who was in charge of the Middle East department. Come to think of it, I’d probably be in charge of the Middle East department. (Rather pleased at this one, and chuckles appreciatively.) Very well, ring off, if you wish. I have said my say. (Jiggles the telephone again.) Hullo, Exchange? Get me Victoria 8440 again, would you? I got cut off… (In an assumed voice most inexpertly and suspiciously guttural.) Hullo, Foreign Office. Please might with the Middle Eastern department to speak? Hullo, Middle East? (In his normal voice.) Who’s in charge there tonight? Mr Seymour? Good. Put me on to him, would you… Charley? This is Mark – do me a little favour, would you? If my home rings up, I’m with you, deciphering a long dispatch about Mesopotamia, and can’t talk for fear of dropping a stitch… What… That’s better, isn’t it? Gone out for a cup of coffee. You obviously have experience… No. I have none – honestly I haven’t. First time in seven years. Believe it or not, it’s true… No. Not ashamed of myself, yet. Tomorrow, perhaps. Not now… Oh, by the way, Charley, if my home should ring you’d better have this number, hadn’t you. It’s Sloane… Damn, I’ve forgotten it. I know it so well, too. No, it’s not on the receiver… I tell you what. It’s in the book under the name of Oscar Philipson – got that? Oscar Philipson, and the address is 12 Wilbraham Terrace, Knightsbridge… Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Charley, I hope I shall be able to do the same for you one day… (As an afterthought.) Oh, by the way, give my best to your wife.
WILLIAMS, OSCAR PHILIPSON’s manservant, enters. He is small, neat, rugged, and (for he is an ex-hatman) his ‘sirs’and ‘my lords’are military rather than domestic.
WILLIAMS. Oh, you’re here, my lord.
MARK. Hullo, Williams.
WILLIAMS. I didn’t know. I was just going out. I hope everything’s all right?
MARK (rising). Yes, thank you, Williams. Perfect, I think.
WILLIAMS. Of course, if you’d have let me know a bit earlier I could have made plans to stay in –
MARK. That’s quite all right. As a matter of fact I’m very glad you’re going out. I mean, it’s kind enough of you to do what you have, anyway –
WILLIAMS. Oh, that’s all right, my lord. I was glad of the chance, to be honest. One gets a bit fed up with nothing to do all day – just sitting alone there in the kitchen, waiting for the Captain’s next leave –
MARK. Any news of him, Williams?
WILLIAMS. I had a line from him about a week ago – giving me notice as it happens – of course, joking, you know the Captain –
MARK. What had you done?
WILLIAMS. Well, in my last letter to him I said to him how I heard the war was going wonderfully and he’d be sure to be home for Christmas.
MARK. And Captain Philipson took umbrage, did he?
WILLIAMS. Well, out in France, as you know, things look a bit different to the way they do from here. I remember when I was on the Somme, just before I got my packet, I used to get proper fed up with letters from home, telling me how gloriously I was advancing when I’d been stuck in the same ruddy hole for three weeks.
MARK. I didn’t know you were on the Somme – I just missed it.
WILLIAMS. Did you get a blighty?
MARK. No. I was only out there by kind permission of the Foreign Office; and last year they withdrew their kind permission – that’s all.
WILLIAMS. I suppose you get white feathers?
MARK. Enough to stuff a pillow.
WILLIAMS. So do I. One old duck said to me yesterday on the Tube – ‘Young man,’ she said, ‘why aren’t you in uniform?’ And I said, ‘Because there’s a ruddy war on, you silly old sausage.’ Proper mad, she got. Called the conductor and all. (Chuckles at the reminiscence.) Well, my lord, is there anything more I can do for you, because I ought to be getting along?
MARK. No, thank you, Williams. I’m very grateful.
WILLIAMS. Oh – do you see I put the lady out for
you?
MARK. The lady?
WILLIAMS. The bust.
WILLIAMS points to the bronze girl’s head on the pedestal.
MARK. Oh yes.
WILLIAMS. The Captain had it in the lumber room. If you ask me he’s never properly appreciated it. I think it’s beautiful.
MARK. Thank you, Williams.
WILLIAMS. Must be wonderful to be able to do things like that.
MARK. Oh, well, it’s only a hobby, you know –
WILLIAMS. It ought to be more than a hobby, if you ask me. It ought to be an occupation. If I could sculpt or paint or something like that, I’d be at it all day long. Of course I’ve got my reading, but that isn’t quite the same thing. (Seeing the champagne.) I see you brought the champagne. I know Captain Philipson would have been only too glad to have let you have one of his – (Picking up champagne and putting it in ice bucket.)
MARK. No. That would be stretching his hospitality too far. By the way, I’ve written to Captain Philipson telling him about tonight –
WILLIAMS. Yes, my lord.
MARK. Oh, and Williams. (Slightly embarrassed.) Just supposing I – er – got caught in a sudden storm, or something and – er – wanted to stay the night, would that be all right, do you think?
WILLIAMS. Yes, my lord, of course. Only too easy. The bed is made up.
MARK. Of course, I probably won’t be needing it at all –
WILLIAMS. You never know, my lord. It’s very hot tonight. I should say there’s a good deal of thunder in the air. Just leave a note for me, would you, so I’ll know.
Who is Sylvia? and Duologue Page 6