Though The Wind in the Willows focuses heavily on the outdoors, the novel also devotes a lot of attention to the four main characters’ domestic, interior spaces. Mole begins the novel in a neat, tidy, underground home and soon joins Rat in a well-furnished house built into the riverbank. Badger lives in an extensive home built into tunnels under the Wild Wood, while wealthy and pompous Toad lives in the nicest house on the river, Toad Hall. For each animal, their homes, and the choices they make about their homes, are reflective of their identities—Toad’s lavish country house, for instance, reflects his wealth and self-centeredness. But characters’ identities also aren’t set in stone, which the novel shows most clearly when Mole abandons his underground home and makes a new life for himself as a river-dweller. But wherever a character makes their home, and whatever their house might say about them, The Wind in the Willows nevertheless presents home as a place where people (or animals) feel safe, loved, accepted, and certain of who they are. Moreover, the novel suggests that it’s better to stay close to home and have adventures there than it is to wander far and wide.
A person or animal’s home, the novel suggests, is in many ways a reflection of who they are and what they value. Mole, for instance, is pleasantly surprised when he first enters Rat’s home, as Rat’s home is exactly like Rat. It’s neat, put together, and well-stocked—his home is prepared for anything, just as Rat is highly practical and organized. But the house is also somewhat romantic in that it’s situated right on the bank of the river, meaning that the view is fantastic, but the location isn’t necessarily practical (being so close to the water means the house floods occasionally in winter). Rat is a poet, and though he’s sensible and always prepared, he’s also very interested in romantic delights—and his home’s location reflects this. Badger’s home also reflects his personality and what he values. It opens into a cold, long, dark hallway that reflects Badger’s initially gruff and imposing demeanor. But just as Badger proves to be a loyal, generous friend to everyone who gets to know him, the rooms off the cold hallway are warm, cozy, and stocked with food and other delights. Additionally, an animal’s home is one of the places where it’s easiest for them to show off who they are. It’s no accident that at one point, Badger, Toad, Rat, and Mole prepare to retake Toad Hall (which weasels, stoats, and ferrets from the Wild Wood have overtaken) at Rat’s house. The house, like Rat himself, is centrally located and involved in everything, and it contains everything they need for their mission. And Toad Hall is known for its lavish banquets and parties, where Toad can, at first, show off his immense wealth. Whereas Rat’s house reflects that he prizes being prepared, Toad Hall reflects that Toad values wealth and power above all else.
But one’s home and identity, the novel shows, aren’t set in stone: identities can change, and a being’s home can change to reflect that. This is most apparent when, in the novel’s first pages, Mole decides to leave his cozy underground home and move in with Rat on the river. Moving houses brings about a major change in Mole: he suddenly realizes that while he loves being underground, he loves being above ground more, because he can feel the sun and enjoy the delights the river has to offer. He essentially rethinks and reworks his very nature, as moles are naturally creatures that live underground. But this transformation doesn’t mean Mole totally gives up on his old identity, either: when he and Rat briefly return to Mole’s home around the holidays and spend a happy evening entertaining field mice, Mole is thrilled to realize that his original home and his original identity will always be there for him. However, he also realizes that he’s changed, and now, he calls the river his home. Toad’s identity and home change in a slightly different way. While at first, Toad uses Toad Hall to boast, show off his wealth, and house his expensive toys, things change after Toad is imprisoned for stealing a car and other animals overtake Toad Hall while he’s is away. After his friends help him take back Toad Hall and Toad throws a banquet to commemorate his return home, he finally decides it’s time to be the modest, generous gentleman his friends want him to be—and the gentleman that Badger implies that Toad’s late father would be proud of. In light of this change, Toad’s grand home begins to reflect his generosity and hospitality to his guests. It exists for their comfort and entertainment, not just to prop Toad up and make him look better.
Finally, The Wind in the Willows shows that it’s far more fulfilling to stay at or near one’s home, where one can feel safe and secure in one’s identity, than it is to go on far-off adventures. Rat initially introduces this idea when Mole points to the distance beyond the Wild Wood and asks what’s out there. Rat tells him that’s the “Wide World,” and there’s no reason to ever be curious about it—it’s best to focus on one’s home and one’s life nearby. This goes on to guide the friends’ behavior throughout the novel, as journeying more than a day’s walk or boat trip away from home is, per the logic of the novel, inappropriate—it deprives a being of the safety and security they derive from being closer to home, in their own community. This doesn’t mean, though, that the desire to travel further afield doesn’t grip the characters from time to time. Rat even comes close to heading south with a wayfarer rat, as the wayfarer’s stories make Rat’s life on the river seem small and confined. But Mole intercepts Rat and convinces him to stay. Home, the novel suggests, is where people can feel safe, secure, and as though they’re part of a community—and one doesn’t have to travel far away and give up that security to have exciting, fulfilling experiences.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Home, Identity, and Adventure ThemeTracker
Home, Identity, and Adventure Quotes in The Wind in the Willows
“Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,” said the Rat. “And that’s something that doesn’t matter, either to you or to me. I’ve never been there, and I’m never going, nor you either, if you’ve got any sense at all. Don’t ever refer to it again, please.”
“Finest house on the whole river,” cried Toad boisterously. “Or anywhere else, for that matter,” he could not help adding.
Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and turned very red. Then Toad burst out laughing. “All right, Ratty,” he said. “It’s only my way, you know. And it’s not such a very bad house, is it? You know you rather like it yourself.”
Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all! With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured! The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb, tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow. Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its place in the line […]
There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when the animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good deal of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in his armchair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over rhymes that wouldn’t fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself and explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up and acquaintance with Mr Badger.
He was now in just the frame of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about in him. He saw clearly how plain and simple—how narrow, even—it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one’s existence. He did not at all want to abandon his new life and its splendid spaces […] But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted on for the same simple welcome.
To his horror he recollected that he had left both coat and waistcoat behind him in his cell, and with them his pocket-book, money, keys, watch, matches, pencilcase—all that makes life worth living, all that distinguishes the many-pocketed animal, the lord of creation, from the inferior one-pocketed or two-pocketed productions that hop or trip about permissively, unequipped for the real contest.
[…] “I’ve no doubt you’ll go bravely, and face all the trouble and discomfort and change and newness, and make believe that you’re not very unhappy. But to want to talk about it, or even think about it, till you really need—”
“No, you don’t understand, naturally,” said the second swallow. “First, we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back come the recollections one like one, like homing pigeons.”
It is all very well, when you have a light heart, and a clear conscience, and money in your pocket, and nobody scouring the country for you to drag you off to prison again, to follow where the road beckons and points, not caring whither. The practical Toad cared very much indeed, and he could have kicked the road for its helpless silence when every minute was of importance to him.
“Now, Toady, I don’t want to give you pain, after all you’ve been through already; but, seriously, don’t you see what an awful ass you’ve been making of yourself? On your own admission you have been handcuffed, imprisoned, starved, chased, terrified out of your life, insulted, jeered at, and ignominiously flung into the water—by a woman, too! Where’s the amusement in that? Where does the fun come in? And all because you must needs go and steal a motor car.”
A fine idea had occurred to him while he was talking. He would write the invitations; and he would take care to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a career of his triumph he had to tell about; and on the flyleaf he would set out a sort of programme of entertainment for the evening— […]
Otter […] threw his arm round Toad’s neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he disengaged himself, “Badger’s was the mastermind; the Mole and the Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks and did little or nothing.”
