As with A.A. Milne's first novel (of sorts), Lovers in London, the mere fact of this play, Sarah Simple, being available again is welcome news. It's not included in the various collections which still crop up in secondhand bookshops, and I'd been searching for a copy for quite some time. Before the publication of Anne Thwaite's biography of Milne I had only come across a single mention of it, in a history of theatre published in the 1930s.
It is not, however, a neglected masterpiece - something which it has in common with that novel. If you're already familiar with Milne's work for the theatre there will be little here to surprise you: a wife, presumed to have divorced her husband, suddenly reappears as he is on the verge of marrying a somewhat more stolid partner. Once, long ago, I embarked on a dissertation on Milne's plays but my tutor was not keen, joshing about his struggles to remember which missing spouse featured in which play. (In the end I switched to Tennessee Williams and still slightly regret it).
Being a Milne play there are, of course, many amusing
lines in Sarah Simple - though the digs at the pretentions of a younger
generation (a nephew and niece who are hanging around during the summer
holidays) don't seem particularly chuckleworthy, on the page at least; I'm guessing that the lines for the precocious pair play better than they read.
According to Anne Thwaite Sarah Simple was written in 1932 but not staged until 1937; A.R.
Whatmore and Leonora Corbett, pictured in character at the top of this post, played the husband and the reappearing wife of
the title. Thwaite quotes a "telling sentence" from the review of the London production in
The Times: "When there is nothing whatever to say, no one knows better
than Mr Milne how to say it"; she also mentions J.C. Trewin's recollection that "Milne was then quite out of fashion. It was the essence of the old
Punch [the magazine in which he had first made a name for himself]
transferred to the stage."
That seems a fair assessment in this case: some of his other theatre might have had an underlying seriousness of purpose; this plainly doesn't, however agreeable it may be. In the Telegraph, Milne's friend and neighbour, W.A. Darlington called the dialogue "so beautifully turned that it almost speaks itself" but in his book assessing Milne's work Thomas Burnett Swann thought that
The ease of the dialogue cannot conceal the inanity of the characters or the foolishness which passes for a plot.
Then again, it wasn't a work with pretentions to seriousness. Milne said to the audience after the first night: "We wanted to make you laugh. You have laughed. There is nothing more to say except, 'Thank you'."
This might not be the best introduction, then, to Milne the playwright if you are seeking to make a case for his relevance today. The verdict will be in soon enough on the revival of The Truth About Blayds at the Finborough, which might lead to other plays being considered for coaxing back to life. I don't think Sarah Simple will be among their number but it's still an enjoyable read.
As the work is now, presumably, public domain there is probably more than one edition out there; the one I read was produced by Hassell Street Press, published in 2021, and appears to be a scan of a library copy, complete with the usual markings, of the 1940 Samuel French acting edition; Milne's plays were usually published by Chatto & Windus but possibly this one wasn't. At the time of writing this no-frills Hassell Street Press edition is being offered for around £18-20 so if another company brings out a cheaper copy it might be worth investigation, though I wouldn't start your collection of Milne's plays here.
Incidentally, I don't know whether or not the Finborough will be bringing out a new edition of The Truth About Blayds to coincide with their revival, but secondhand copies of a collection in which it appears, alongside The Great Broxopp and The Dover Road, ought to be easy to find.
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