The Ugly Duckling by A.A. Milne is, to the best of my recollection, the only Milne play I have actually seen performed. It was a decade ago and a schoolgirl production for an evening of one-act plays but I have actually seen it, though of course I am sure that at the time I never looked closely enough at the program to see who had written it. Given how rare it is to find Milne plays being performed, it makes me feel quite happy to know that I have at least seen one.
The Ugly Ducking, from 1941, is another of Milne’s fairy tales, which is delightful news as he has such fun with them that the reader always benefits. Here, the King and Queen are hoping to marry off their daughter, Princess Camilla, to Prince Simon. Princess Camilla is not exactly like other princess though. She’s not quite…that is to say, she doesn’t have…well, the King really puts it best:
KING. What you are trying to say in the fewest words possible is that my daughter is not beautiful.
CHANCELLOR. Her beauty is certainly elusive, Your Majesty.
KING. It is. It has eluded you, it has eluded me, it has eluded everybody who has seen her.
Yes, Princess Camilla, though she is the nicest person in the kingdom, is not a looker and her lack of beauty has proved rather inconvenient in the quest to find her a prince. Her parents are determined to get her married though, since, as the King tells her, “Now the great fact about marriage is that once you’re married you live happy ever after. All our history books affirm this.” The upcoming visit of Prince Simon, who has lived his life in such remote locations that it is hoped he hasn’t heard the rumours about Princess Camilla’s appearance, gives them a chance to be clever and the King and Queen hatch a plan. When Prince Simon arrives, Princess Camilla’s stunning but lamentably dimwitted attendant Dulcibella will pretend to be the Princess and will (by whatever means necessary) get the Prince to agree to a marriage. Then Princess Camilla will marrying him wearing a very heavy veil so he won’t know the difference until after the wedding. It is, the King assures Princess Camilla, “a harmless ruse, of which you will find frequent record in the history books.” Princess Camilla, surprisingly calm and seemingly rather bemused, consents to her parents’ plan.
But when Prince Simon arrives, he too has switched places with his attendant and so he and Camilla meet incognito. Unlike everyone else, he is immediately struck by her beauty (a godmother’s blessing having made everyone else see her as plain until she meets her prince) and the two get on very well indeed, discussing how best to approach the castle when the drawbridge is out of commission – both Prince Simon and Camilla are apparently gifted acrobats, when necessary. With true love found, and her godmother’s christening blessings finally explained to her mystified parents, things are nicely tied up in the promised happy ever after.
All of the dialogue is enjoyable but the highlight for me was this exchange between the King and Dulcibella, when he was coaching that gorgeous idiot on how to behave when masquerading as the Princess. It is dialogue like this that makes me adore Milne so very, very much:
KING. Come in, my dear!
(DULCIBELLA comes in. She is beautiful, but dumb.)
Now don’t be frightened, there is nothing to be frightened about. Has Her Majesty told you what you have to do?
DULCIBELLA. Y-yes, Your Majesty.
KING. Well now, let’s see how well you can do it. You are sitting here, we will say. (He leads her to a seat.) Now imagine that I am Prince Simon. (He curls his moustache and puts his stomach in. She giggles.) You are the beautiful Princess Camilla whom he has never seen. (She giggles again.) This is a serious moment in your life, and you will find that a giggle will not be helpful. (He goes to the door.) I am announced: “His Royal Highness Prince Simon!” That’s me being announced. Remember what I said about giggling. You should have a far-away look upon the face. (She does her best.) Farther away than that. (She tries again.) No, that’s too far. You are sitting there, thinking beautiful thoughts – in maiden meditation, fancy-free, as I remember saying to Her Majesty once…speaking of somebody else…fancy-free, but with the mouth definitely shut – that’s better. I advance and fall upon one knee. (He does so.) You extend your hand graciously – graciously; you’re not trying to push him in the face – that’s better, and I raise it to my lips – so – and I kiss it – (he kisses it warmly) – no, perhaps not so ardently as that, more like this (he kisses it again), and I say, “Your Royal Highness, this is the most – er – Your Royal Highness, I shall ever be – no – Your Royal Highness, it is the proudest –“ Well, the point is that he will say it, and it will be something complimentary, and then he will take your hand in both of his, and press it to his heart. (He does so.) And then – what do you say?
DULCIBELLA. Coo!
KING. No, not Coo.
DULCIBELLA. Never had anyone do that to me before.
KING. That also strikes the wrong note. What you want to say is, “Oh, Prince Simon!”… Say it.
DULCIBELLA (loudly). Oh, Prince Simon!
KING. No, no. You don’t need to shout until he has said “What?” two or three times. Always consider the possibility that he isn’t deaf. Softly, and giving the words a dying fall, letting them play around his head like a flight of doves.
DULCIBELLA (still a little over-loud). O-o-o-o-h, Prinsimon!
KING. Keep the idea in your mind of a flight of doves rather than a flight of panic-stricken elephants, and you will be all right. Now I’m going to get up, and you must, as it were, waft me into a seat by your side. (She starts wafting.) Not rescuing a drowning man, that’s another idea altogether, useful at times, but at the moment inappropriate. Wafting. Prince Simon will put the necessary muscles into play – all you require to do is to indicate by a gracious movement of the hand the seat you require him to take. Now! (He gets up, a little stiffly, and sits next to her.) That was better. Well, here we are. Now, I think you give me a look: something, let us say, half-way between the breathless adoration of a nun and the voluptuous abandonment of a woman of the world; with an undertone of regal dignity, touched, as it were, with good comradeship. Now try that. (She gives him a vacant look of bewilderment.) Frankly, that didn’t quite get it. There was just a little something missing. An absence, as it were, of all the qualities I asked for, and in their place an odd resemblance to an unsatisfied fish.
I don’t believe I even knew that Milne wrote plays! Here’s to learning something new every day!
I have to say that I adore your blog…adding you to my blog roll
His plays are excellent! I only started reading them this year but have been delighted by what I’ve found. A lot of them are in the public domain, so it is easy to track down electronic copies.
And thanks for adding me to your blog roll!
I knew he wrote plays, but I’ve never heard of this one. It sounds great fun.
He wrote a ridiculous amount so it is not surprising that you haven’t heard of this one! It is very fun and worth checking out, if you ever come across a copy.
Oh it sounds delightful! P.G. Wodehousian and just the thing to brighten dull skies and days! I can’t wait to get my copy!
There are plenty of similarities between Wodehouse and Milne’s styles – if you like one, I’ll bet you’ll like the other!
This is nothing like the ugly duckling this is more complicated. I like the ugly duckling original this one stinks.
A simply lovely play – I directed a production for high school, and the students LOVED it.
I’m so glad to hear that! It’s wonderful to know that Milne’s work is still making people happy.