The Great Broxopp by A.A. Milne is often referred to as prophetic. Written in 1921, it features a man who feels his life has been blighted by his father’s commercial success with the baby food he used his infant son to advertise. Milne’s own son was still an infant when this was written – years away from being immortalized as Christopher Robin – but the parallels are very clear. But, sadly for Milne, the fictional son is much more forgiving than his real one would one day be.
The play opens, perfectly, on young Mrs Broxopp conferring with her maid of all work, giving instant insight into the family finances:
Nancy: Yes, Mary?
Mary: It’s about the dinner, ma’am.
Nancy: (With a sigh.) Yes, I was afraid it was. It isn’t a very nice subject to talk about, is it, Mary?
Mary: Well, ma’am, it has its awkwardness like.
Nancy: (After a pause, but not very hopefully.) How is the joint looking?
Mary: Well, it’s past looking like anything very much.
Nancy: Well, there’s the bone.
Mary: Yes, there’s the bone.
Nancy: (Gaily.) Well, there we are, Mary. Soup.
Mary: If you remember, ma’am, we had soup yesterday.
Nancy: (Wistfully.) Couldn’t you – couldn’t you squeeze it again, Mary?
Mary: It’s past squeezing, ma’am – in this world.
Broxopp, you see, is not yet great. But the first act is brief and by the time we meet him again twenty odd years later, greatness has been achieved. A born salesman, he has built a successful business and established a comfortable life. He and his wife live in a large home in the best part of town. They have a butler who used to work for a duke. Their son, Jack, went through Eton and Oxford and is now pursuing his dream of becoming an artist (heavily subsidized by his father). They have the success they dreamed of and are proud of it, with the Great Broxopp still excited each day to look for ways to make the business – and the name of Broxopp – even greater.
Young Jack, on the other hand, wants to abandon the name entirely. He has fallen in love and plans to marry the lovely, eminently sensible Iris. But Iris – and even more importantly Iris’s father, the masterful Sir Roger Tenterden – can’t stomach the name of Broxopp and the commercial activities that it is associated with. Jack, for his part, is more than happy to abandon a name that has plagued him all his life:
Jack: I’m simply fed up with Broxopp’s Beans.
Broxopp: (Surprised.) But – but you haven’t had them since you were a baby.
Jack: (Seeing the opening.) Haven’t had them? Have I ever stopped having them? Weren’t they rammed down my throat at school till I was sick of them? Did they ever stop pulling my leg about them at Oxford? Can I go anywhere without seeing that beastly poster – a poster of me – me, if you please – practically naked – telling everybody that I love my Beans. (Bitterly.) Love them! Don’t I see my name – Broxopp, Broxopp, Broxopp – everywhere in every size of lettering – on every omnibus, on every hoarding; spelt out in three colours at night – B-R-O-X-O-P-P – until I can hardly bear the sight of it. Free bottles given away on my birthday, free holidays for Broxopp mothers to celebrate my coming of age! I’m not a man at all. I’m just a living advertisement of Beans.
Broxopp shows his greatness in what he does next. He accepts his son’s point of view and, to smooth his son’s way into a respectable future with no taint of business, he sells the business and changes the family name to Chillingham, his wife’s maiden name. And then they retire to the country to live sedate, unexceptional lives in beautiful surroundings.
When we meet them again, all seems to be going well enough but the Great Broxopp is not so great anymore. Country life does not suit him and he yearns to be back at work, to have something to strive for every day. Jack is married but still living off his parents, not making much of an effort at his art, and Iris’s father, Sir Roger, has been left in charge of everyone’s money but will tell no one about any of it. And then the inevitable happens: the money disappears. Mismanaged by Sir Roger (with a final, artful push from Mrs Broxopp), the Broxopp fortune is lost. But the loss brings a new beginning for everyone and no one could be happier than the Great Broxopp, now facing a challenge worthy of his ambitions.
Milne’s dialogue is not up to his snappiest best but I loved this play. It had a huge amount of heart and the central relationship between Mr and Mrs Broxopp was wonderful, a true and supportive partnership. They worked together to build Broxopp’s Beans and we have no doubt as the play ends that they will work together again to make the name of Chillingham just as great.
Knowing Milne’s life, it’s not difficult to see the factors from his own life at play here. From all I know of Daphne Milne, I suspect her family would have shared Sir Roger’s prejudices about being too closely associated with business. And I know for certain Milne himself felt that work and success were something to be proud of and celebrated, not looked down upon. But the one thing he couldn’t foresee was that he would put his own son under a spotlight many, many times greater than the one Jack Broxopp grew up in. And his son, unlike Jack Broxopp, would never quite forgive him for it.
The Captive Reader 
I know Milne was a prolific writer but I’ve never heard of this one!
There was a Saki story about a cereal called Pipenta that wasn’t selling and I’d love to know if that triggered the idea. Just that the manufacturer is fabulously wealthy. A poor artist wants to marry his daughter and creates a graphic marketing campaign which makes eating the stuff, renamed Filboid Studge, into a stern duty; famous people are depicted in hell with fiends holding the stuff out of reach and the caption is “They cannot buy it now.”
There’s a twist, of course, because this is Saki.
The was written during his most prolific period and it’s really fantastic to look at the quality of his plays around this time. All are well-worth reading! I’d class this near the best of his work, not quite up to “The Dover Road” but getting close.
Great piece, Claire – I agree, that central couple is one of Milne’s lovely collaborative ones. I do wonder how often he thought back on this play in later life, or if he were just oblivious.
It’s interesting to think about that, isn’t it? But in some ways Jack Broxopp made it easier on his father – he gave him a clear (and rather unorthodox) way of helping to fix the problem. I don’t think the Milnes ever considered something like that. And you need to have both sides willing to move forward. I didn’t get the sense from Christopher Milne’s books that he was willing to do so. He always seems to have been in the mindset that this was something done to him rather than something that spun out of control and, really, happened to all of them.
This sounds delightful! I need to read more Milne.
You do! More Milne is always a good idea.