|
|
 |
| |
AJP Taylor was one of the true greats
• IF my final year tutor at Magdalen College, Oxford, AJP Taylor, really had a "roaring passion" for Oxford University, as Illtyd Harrington writes (Last of the Fierce Individual History Boys, Review, Nov 30), it was certainly not returned by most of his fellow dons of the time.
Their reaction, as Illtyd points out, was full of spite. And now it is the fashionable thing for the dons of today to knock his writings as well as his person. All the more reason for those who were lucky enough to be tutored by AJP Taylor to speak up for the wonderful, caring man he was.
My first tutor at Magdalen was the young Alan Bennett, then wearing his long since discarded hat as a medieval historian.
I was pleased to have got a laugh out of Alan with my first essay, and after that he set me essay subjects which could do with an injection of humour, then much lacking at Oxford.
I didn't, of course, realise at the time what an honour it would turn out to be to have got a laugh out of Alan Bennett, but I did appreciate it when he gave me a couple of tickets to this unlikely-sounding show he was going to be performing in when it started in London.
I also appreciated it when he advised me on how to get chosen by the great AJP Taylor as a pupil.
Not long before Alan Bennett informed me that our tutorials were coming to a premature end as he was off to London to start a show with Dudley Moore (also of Magdalen) and a couple of others I wouldn't know, and here were a couple of tickets, it was Alan who told me that AJP picked and chose whom he would tutor when the time came, and that it was important to catch his eye, preferably by being critical. AJP couldn't stand people who simply spouted his opinions back at him, and much preferred it if you found an opportunity to question them.
The opportunity occurred, I followed Alan's advice and duly got chosen by AJP. I was determined to impress him. I worked flat out on my first essay, and was pleased when AJP said he thought it was "good".
The second week had to be better, so I worked even harder, and was delirious when AJP judiciously said "excellent". Then came the third week. My tutorial was at 6 o'clock. I had done all the work. I sat there all day, writing. But it was no use. What was coming out was not better than the previous week's effort, and so I kept on tearing the paper up.
At 6 o'clock, I went to Taylor's rooms without an essay, and told him the truth. Any other tutor would have taken an easy way out. "Never mind," they would have said. "Let's have a glass of sherry (it was always sherry at Oxford in those days) and talk about it."
Instead, AJP gave me a little talking to. He talked about working for Lord Beaverbrook. When Beaverbrook demanded 2,000 words from AJP Taylor by 6 o'clock, it was Taylor's duty to make sure he delivered without fail. It was childish to imagine that one could always do better than all one's previous efforts.
And so on - obvious stuff, perhaps, but again more than other, lesser dons would have bothered with. They would certainly not have bothered with AJP's punchline: "I want you to go away now and write. I'll have breakfast here tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock, and we'll eat it together after I've heard your essay."
He got the essay. I got my breakfast. And, much more importantly, I got taught a lesson - for which, again, I remember AJP Taylor with gratitude to this day.
But the AJP moment I remember with the greatest fondness came when I failed my Foreign Office exams. It was a summer evening and I was moping about Magdalen, seeking sympathy and naturally finding none. Then the Head Porter waved from the Lodge. "Mr Taylor's compliments, and he would like you to go up to his rooms straight away."
For the next couple of hours, AJP worked at making me feel better. He produced bottles. He pulled corks. He assured me that I was well out of it: the life of a diplomat today was far from the agreeable existence he had been supervising me in studying my special subject, British Diplomatic History and the Making of the Ententes 1898-1907.
The modern world beckoned. I should heed its call. And so on.
Whatever he had had planned for his evening, AJP dropped it to work at making me feel better. He didn't have to do that. Other, lesser dons certainly wouldn't dream it was their duty to do that, and did not do so. But AJP did. And the result is that, 43 years later, this ex-pupil, who spends very little time remembering the rest of his time at Oxford, will never forget the time he spent with AJP, and much more importantly, the time AJP took to spend with me.
OSMAN STREATER
Elsworthy Road, NW3
|
 |
|
|
|
