When I first did A Century of Books back in 2012, I discovered a) that I love reading plays and b) that I adore A.A. Milne. The two discoveries were not unrelated: I read 15 plays by Milne that year and 22 of his works in total. But still my work was not finished – there is plenty of Milne still left for me to read, including a number of his plays. I hope to spread them out through the year but have started with one of his earliest, The Boy Comes Home, a one-act play from 1918.
Twenty-three-year-old Philip has spent the last four years serving as an officer in France. Now, with the war just over, he finds himself back in his Uncle James and Aunt Emily’s house, living yet again under his uncle’s rules – a strange place for a man who has spent the last four years giving orders and growing up very fast. Philip, as we are introduced to him, is very much one of Milne’s charming young men, tossing off amusing dialogue while displaying general contentment and disinclination to be ruffled:
EMILY: And did you have a good breakfast? Naughty boy to be late for it. I always thought they had to get up so early in the army.
PHILIP: They do. That’s why they’re so late when they get out of the army.
EMILY: Dear me! I should have thought a habit of four years would have stayed with you.
PHILIP: Every morning for four years, as I’ve shot out of bed, I’ve said to myself, “Wait! A time will come.” [Smiling] That doesn’t really give a habit a chance.
Uncle James and Aunt Emily are rather different. I always love reading Milne’s plays for his authorial asides, descriptions and stage directions. In this case, I loved his descriptions of these characters: Aunt Emily is “a kind-hearted mid-Victorian lady who has never had any desire for the vote” while Uncle James, Philip’s guardian and withholder of his inheritance until he reaches the age of twenty-five, is “not a big man, nor an impressive one in his black morning-coat; and his thin straggly beard, now going grey, does not hide a chin of any great power; but he has a severity which passes for strength with the weak.”
Uncle James, a profitable jam producer, is very much a man who wants things done his own way – we know this even before he appears since Philip’s request for breakfast at ten upset the entire household, who know that breakfast is only ever served at half past eight. More crucially, he is one who feels he has made plenty of sacrifices over the last four years so can’t be expected to feel much sympathy for his soldier nephew, as he reminds his wife:
JAMES: I don’t want to boast, but I think I may claim to have done my share. I gave up my nephew to my country, and I – er – suffered from the shortage of potatoes to an extent that you probably didn’t realise. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for your fortunate discovery about that time that you didn’t really like potatoes, I don’t know how we should have carried on. And, as I think I’ve told you before, the excess-profits tax seemed to me a singularly stupid piece of legislation – but I paid it. And I don’t go on boasting about how much I paid.
Frustrated by his nephew’s lackadaisical ways (breakfast at ten in the morning! I ask you!), Uncle James is eager to lay down the law when he invites Philip into his study to discuss the younger man’s career plans now that he is out of the army. What ensues is either a fantastical nightmare or a bizarre act of intimidation by a cunning and deeply disturbed young man. Uncle James will never be quite sure and nor will we.
Milne, like Philip, had served in France but for nowhere near as long – he had been invalided back to England after the Somme (in 1916) and spent the rest of the war on desk duties. But he knew what it was like out there and knew the good and the bad that it did to young men. And he certainly knew the relief young Philip feels when it is all over:
PHILIP: Uncle James, do you realise that I’m never going to salute again, or wear a uniform, or get wet – really wet, I mean – or examine men’s feet, or stand to attention when I’m spoken to, or – oh, lots more things. And, best of all, I’m never going to be frightened again.
Though he had been writing professionally for more than a decade when The Boy Comes Home was published, Milne had only published his first play (Wurzel-Flummery) the year before, in 1917. It was a form he excelled at; he proved to be extremely successful as a playwright (it is what made him famous even before he began writing for children) and, particularly in the 1920s, extraordinarily prolific. The Boy Comes Home is not quite as skilled as the charming Belinda (also from 1918) but it does show an attempt to engage with more serious subjects. While this is only a minor effort, it’s a fascinating glimpse into the mind of an ex-soldier at the end of the Great War and an equally fascinating step in Milne’s progression towards mastery of the form.
The only play of Milne’s that I know is his adaptation of The Wind in the Willows, Toad of Toad Hall. It is some time since I last saw this on stage but I still remember whole stretches of it, especially Badger threatening to ‘learn’ the wild wooders. If someone is being over emphatic about something I always describe them as ‘learning them’.
It’s wonderful, isn’t it! One of the only things I agreed on with Susan Hill in Jacob’s Room is Full of Books is her admiration for it. I’d love to see it performed.
I’m not sure I even knew A.A. Milne wrote adult books/plays! This sounds unusually charming, especially considering the background topic of the war. Great review.
Did he ever! He was far more prolific in his adult writing than in his children’s writing (which he only did for a few years in the 1920s). His plays are very entertaining but my favourites of his works are his autobiography (It’s Too Late Now) and his Punch pieces about a group of young people called “The Rabbits”.
Wow, I can’t believe I missed that somehow..I loved his children’s works. I’m really interested in that autobiography, I’ll have to see if I can find it. Thanks for enlightening me! 🙂
I’ve read (and greatly enjoyed) Milne’s First Plays and Second Plays so far (plus Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which I heard of here!), and I think “Wurzel-Flummery” and this one are my favorites out of them.
Interesting! It’s always exciting to hear from someone else (other than Simon) who is familiar with Milne’s plays. From those collections, I’d have to say that “Mr Pim Passes By” is my favourite, though you’ve made me even more keen to get on to reading “Wurzel-Flummery.”
I had no idea there was more to Milne than Pooh and crew.
So, so, so much more! And most of it is very fun indeed.
Yay AAM! This play is so powerful, particularly the end, and shows Milne in a whole new light. I love that ACOB2018 will see more Milne reviews from you – spreading the good word!
It’s an interesting one, isn’t it? It feels much more raw than what I’m used to from him, especially at this period.
It’s such an amazing play
And the concept of the generation gap is
being highlighted perfectly . overall it gives
Us a great lesson