Trial by Jury, by Gilbert and Sullivan

Trial by Jury (1875) was the first comic opera by Gilbert and Sullivan (if we exclude the unpublished and largely lost “Thespis”) and it marks the beginning of a hugely successful partnership that produced a string of works that are still performed to the present day.

It is unusual in being the only one of the series that contains no spoken dialogue, and it is also much shorter than the later operas, being all over in around half an hour. However, some of its features re-appear throughout the series, such as the “patter song”, the “part song”, and the use of logical absurdities to drive the plot. It satirises the legal profession, of which Gilbert had some knowledge from his earlier unsuccessful career as a barrister. Poking fun at the law was to prove far more profitable than practicing it, and he was to have another highly successful “dig” in “Iolanthe” some seven years later.

The action takes place in a courtroom, where an action is being brought for “breach of promise of marriage”. Such trials were relatively common in late Victorian England, and they also had elements of the comic and the salacious about them, so were notorious for their popularity with the public gallery and the Press. Such trials, which were civil rather than criminal cases, became less common in the 20^th century although it was not until 1970 that the offence was taken off the statute book in England.

This particular trial opens with the characters being introduced, courtesy of the court Usher. He prepares to swear in the Jury, having made clear that this trial must be free of bias of every kind. Or rather, he does precisely the opposite by telling the jurymen that Angelina, the plaintiff, deserves all their sympathy, whereas in the case of Edwin, the defendant, “what he may say you need not mind”!

The defendant now appears and puts forward his side of the case, namely that he got bored with his intended and found love elsewhere. The jurymen recall their own past youths, and similar misdeeds, but then declare that they are now highly respectable and therefore “haven’t a scrap of sympathy with the defendant”.

The Learned Judge now takes his place and begins by explaining, via a patter song, how he rose to become a judge, starting from a lowly position as a junior barrister who could never get a “brief”. His route to the top is by falling in love with the “elderly, ugly daughter” of a rich attorney, after which all doors are opened to him. Gilbert’s satire of people who reach the top through influence rather than ability was to be a regular theme in later operas, as was the character of the older female who seeks love but is not allowed to enjoy it.

In this case, the offstage character is described as “she may very well pass for forty-three, in the dusk with a light behind her”. We are to meet her again in virtually every opera, whether as Little Buttercup in “Pinafore”, Ruth in “Pirates” or Katisha in “Mikado”. Here, she is merely a means to an end, because the Judge declares that, once he had reached the top, he got rid of her. “And now, if you please, I’m ready to try this breach of promise of marriage”.

So now we have a hypocritical, corrupt judge and a biased jury. It can’t get a lot worse for Edwin, can it?

With the Jury sworn in, the Plaintiff now appears, dressed in her bridal dress, and accompanied by her bridesmaids. The Judge firstly takes a shine to the first bridesmaid which he then transfers to the Plaintiff, with much exchanging of notes and blowing of kisses.

The Jury are likewise enraptured by Angelina’s beauty and are clearly furious with Edwin. He stands no chance here! Things get even worse when Angelina’s Counsel makes his speech, appealing entirely to the emotions of everyone present, after which the Plaintiff appears ready to faint and from every direction come offers to make her better. The blame for her distress is laid entirely on the Defendant.

However, Edwin has a go at defending himself, and makes what he regards as a very reasonable proposition, based on change being natural in the world, such that “you cannot eat breakfast all day, nor is it the act of a sinner, when breakfast is taken away to turn his attention to dinner”. It is therefore perfectly reasonable for his affections to change from one woman to another, so why does he not “marry this lady today and marry the other tomorrow?”

However, the Counsel points out that “in the reign of James the Second it was generally reckoned as a rather serious crime to marry two wives at one time”. This then leads to a complicated part-song in which all the principal characters, plus the chorus, mull over the “nice dilemma we have here that calls for all our wit”.

The Plaintiff launches into a fervent declaration of love for the Defendant, in a bid to ensure maximum damages, and the Defendant points out that he would make a terrible husband and she is far better off without him. In particular, he makes it clear that he would frequently get drunk and “thrash and kick her”.

This gives the Judge an idea. Why not get him drunk and see if this true? This is objected to by everyone, with the sole exception of Edwin, so, in exasperation, the Judge announces that he’ll settle the cases by marrying Angelina himself.

The opera ends with general rejoicing, although the Judge has a final dig at Edwin by calling him a snob, mainly to find a rhyme for “we’ve settled with the job, and a good job too”.

So, the scene was set for plenty more tuneful and highly enjoyable nonsense in the years to come. “Trial by Jury” is performed by amateur and professional companies all over the world, and it comes across as being as lively and nonsensical as on the day it first appeared. Doubtless it will go on doing so for many years to come.

© John Welford