Women in The Pirates of Penzance, by Gilbert and Sullivan

The female characters in the Savoy operas of Gilbert and Sullivan fall into three groups. There is a female chorus, the composition of which may or may not be believable; there is the female love interest, sung by a soprano; and there is an older woman, sung by a contralto. There are usually other female “semi-principals” who may be friends or close relations of the female lead; and occasionally there is a minor role for another contralto, this normally being played by a chorus member for a single scene.

Ladies of the Chorus

The Pirates of Penzance fits this pattern as neatly as any of the Savoy operas. The nature of the chorus is as absurd as one could wish, as all the women (there are supposed to be 24 of them) are the daughters of Major-General Stanley. Given that in most productions the chorus members all appear to be of roughly the same age, as is desired by the plot, the audience must start to wonder at the prevalence of multiple births in 19^th century Cornwall!

The chorus in G&S does not just comment on proceedings but has an integral part to play in the plot. This is certainly the case in “Pirates”, where the whole action devolves on the seizing by force of the female chorus by the male chorus (the pirates) in Act I and their rescue by the chorus basses (the policemen) in Act II.

One of the best comic scenes in the opera involves the interplay of the daughters and the policemen in Act II when the former persuade the latter to go and fight the pirates. The girls are convinced that nothing is more glorious than meeting one’s death fighting a terrible foe, and the policemen will live forever in their hearts should this happen, but the policemen would much prefer to carry on living in the real world for as long as possible!

The daughters are also essential to the plot because of their beauty. They have to present an obvious contrast to the older woman character, Ruth, so that the joke can be made about Ruth persuading the male lead, Frederic, that she is beautiful, simply because she is the only woman that Frederic has ever seen.

Mabel

Mabel is the principal daughter, supported by three semi-principals in Edith, Kate and Isabel. Mabel is one of the most difficult roles to cast in any production of Pirates, mainly because it is essential that she can carry off one of the most beautiful but difficult numbers in all of G&S, namely “Poor wandering one”.

It is with this song that she is introduced to the opera. Frederic, the apprentice pirate, has called on the chorus of beautiful maidens to say if there is not just one of them who could love somebody like him, and it is Mabel who responds to the call. 

Were we to attempt to analyse the motivations of the characters in terms of normal behaviour, we could only condemn Mabel as being revoltingly forward in offering herself to a man whom she has never seen before, although she does lay down a few conditions, namely that he must forswear his previous life of evil. Even so, we need to apply a considerable “suspension of disbelief” before this makes sense to us. On the other hand, if we can believe that Major-General Stanley has all those daughters of marriageable age …

Mabel is a typical Gilbertian heroine in that she is not only beautiful but resilient, with a mind of her own. She is not there just as the girl to be got by the guy. She is the one who is not afraid to stand out from the crowd, and she also shows courage when the pirates seize the daughters, warning them that their father is a major-general. In Act II she steels herself to the prospect of a long separation from Frederic (some 79 years in fact), and also takes the lead in sending the policemen off to do battle.

Ruth

The other main female character in “Pirates” is Ruth, the “pirate maid-of-all-work”, without whose initial mistake, many years ago, none of this would have happened. To modern sensibilities, this older woman role in G&S is somewhat embarrassing. Gilbert intends us to laugh at these old maids who are clearly past their prime but in whom there is still a strong sexual desire. Of course, we are supposed to think, you cannot be satisfied in love, the reason being that you are too old. You, whatever role you play, must make do with the worst outcome in love, and we will make fun of you for your presumption. Hence we have Katisha (“The Mikado”) Little Buttercup (“Pinafore”) and the Fairie Queen (“Iolanthe”) among others.

Ruth’s mistake was to be hard of hearing, even in her youth, and to have apprenticed young Frederic, at the age of eight, to a pirate instead of a pilot. Gilbert likes us to laugh at physical infirmities as well as increasing female age. A point is also made about Ruth’s loss of physical attractiveness, as Frederic exclaims in disgust that she is not at all beautiful in contrast to Mabel and her sisters.

However, there is more to Ruth than an embittered old maid (a la Katisha) and she emerges as one of the strongest characters in the opera. It is she (along with the Pirate King) who points out to Frederic that his apprenticeship is far from over, due to his having been born on 29^th February in a leap year, and that his 21^st birthday is therefore many years away. Having been his nursemaid all his life, she is the only person who would have known that fact.

It is also Ruth who delivers the final piece of Gilbertian “business”, namely that the pirates are all “noblemen who have gone wrong”, and therefore, as peers of the realm, are fully qualified to marry the daughters of Major-General Stanley. We can assume that Ruth ends up married to the Pirate King, although this is not actually stated.

Better characters than the men?

Although there are not many named women characters in the opera, their roles are essential to the plot. The male characters are a pretty insipid lot when it comes to taking action, with the possible exception of the Pirate King, and even he needs Ruth as his lieutenant. The Major-General fears for his life, the police sergeant is a coward, and Frederic is such a “slave to duty” (which is the subtitle of the opera) that he can take no action on his own initiative. The roles of the female characters are therefore central to “Pirates”, giving huge potential to women actors to have a great time playing the parts in question.

© John Welford

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

The Gondoliers, by Gilbert and Sullivan: a summary of the plot

The Gondoliers (1889) was the last comic opera by Gilbert and Sullivan to achieve popular success, and strains were already appearing in the relationship between librettist and composer. However, it was most certainly a success, containing some excellent music and a typically Gilbertian plot. Despite Gilbert’s digs at aristocracy and monarchy, the Gondoliers was performer by royal command at Windsor Castle in 1891, the first light entertainment to be performed before Queen Victoria since the death of Prince Albert 20 years previously.

Act 1. The Piazetta, Venice.

The opening musical number lasts for about 15 minutes and sets the scene both musically and dramatically. The chorus of Venetian maidens have only one thing on their minds, which two among them are going to lucky enough to grab the two hottest catches among the gondoliers, namely the brothers Marco and Giuseppe Palmieri?

When the gondoliers appear, it is agreed that the decision is to be made by lot, as the result of a game of catch. The two lucky ladies are Tessa and Gianetta, but nobody is left empty-handed because all the other ladies are able to find a gondolier to suit them.

When they all go off to the church to get married, a gondola slides into view, and the Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro, together with their daughter Casilda and servant Luiz arrive. It is soon made clear that the Duke, despite being a Spanish nobleman of high birth, is also very short of cash, and his mission to Venice has a pecuniary purpose.

They tell Casilda that, in infancy, she was married by proxy to the infant son and heir of the King of Barataria. However, the Grand Inquisitor became concerned that the King, who had converted to Wesleyan Methodism, was becoming bigoted in his views. The Grand Inquisitor therefore had the prince abducted and taken to Venice, so that he should not be infected by the King’s views. Now that the King has been killed in an insurrection, Casilda is the new Queen of Barataria and has been conveyed to Venice so that she can meet her husband for the first time and acquire the wealth that goes with the position.

The Duke then explains that, in order to make ends meet, he has registered himself as a limited company, and he then launches into his patter song that concerns his military exploits of “leading his regiment from behind”.

As the Duke and Duchess move offstage to meet the Grand Inquisitor, Casilda and Luiz rush into each others’ arms, as they have long been secret lovers. However, all that must end, now that Casilda knows that she is already married. Luiz lets slip that he always knew about the Barataria prince, because his mother had been the nurse into whose charge the prince had been entrusted.

The Duke and Duchess return, accompanied by Don Alhambra del Bolero, the Grand Inquisitor. He explains that there is a small problem in finding the prince, because, after he had brought the boy to Venice he left him with a gondolier, who raised him alongside his own son. Unfortunately, the gondolier was much given to drink and could never make out which was his own son and which was the prince. Even more unfortunately, the gondolier is now dead (“A taste for drink, combined with gout, had doubled him up for ever”), so telling the boys apart will now depend entirely on the testimony of the prince’s former nursemaid, Luiz’s mother. She has been sent for and, when she arrives, according to Don Alhambra, everything will be sorted out.

The gondoliers and contadine now take the stage, rejoicing in their newly-wedded state. Don Alhambra enters and, as the chorus members slink off, learns that both Palmieri brothers have just got married. Marco and Giuseppe, who declare that they are staunch republicans who despise kings and hold all men to be equal, are then told that one of them is indeed a king. They suddenly discover that their republicanism might not be absolute, and that some kings are all right, especially those who are nice to gondoliers.

Don Alhambra says that it is essential that the king take his throne immediately and therefore he must sail for Barataria at once. Given the problem of identity, the two must act as joint sovereign until things can be sorted out. Marco and Giuseppe are allowed to take their fellow gondoliers with them but must leave their wives behind, at least for the time being.

When the chorus of gondoliers return, they are told that they are all going to Barataria, and that everyone will enjoy equality when they get there, whether they be “the noble lord who rules the state” or “the noble lord who scrubs the grate”.

The gondoliers prepare to leave, and their wives tell them to behave themselves when they get to Barataria.

Act 2. The Court of Barataria

The gondoliers have become courtiers or artisans, all with equal status. Marco and Giuseppe complain that, although they are one person as far as being king is concerned, they would prefer to be regarded as two people when it comes to the food ration. This is agreed. They then give an account of how useful they are around the palace, doing lots of little jobs to help out, as well as making all the important decisions.

Only one thing is missing, and that is their wives. Marco sings of the recipe for perfect happiness, of which the main ingredient is female company. No sooner has he finished than that is exactly what he gets, as the wives and female chorus suddenly appear, explaining that they got bored in Venice and simply had to come to Barataria.

This leads to a wild group dance that is interrupted by the arrival of Don Alhambra, who is astonished at what he finds, particularly the breakdown of social distinctions. He points out that promoting everyone to high rank is bound to lead to problems because “when everybody’s somebody, then no-one’s anybody”.

Don Alhambra then tells them that the Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro are about to arrive, with Casilda, and that one of the gondoliers is an unintentional bigamist. The two couples then try to work out how two husbands have managed to acquire three wives. The two women get particularly heated at the prospect of having to share a husband.

The Duke and Duchess then take the stage. The Duchess explains to Casilda that the secret of a happy marriage is to give way at the right moments but assume command when necessary. The Duke gives an account of his money-making activities that are only possible because of his titled status.

When Marco and Giuseppe arrive, the Duke takes them to task for their lack of respect to their noble visitors, then gives them a lesson in courtly demeanour.

The Duke and Duchess leave Casilda alone with Marco and Giuseppe, but Tessa and Gianetta soon arrive. The five of them then try to work out how marriage can be described as a state of unity, “when excellent husbands are bisected, wives divisible into three”.

However, the whole company now comes on stage, bringing forward Inez, who was the nursemaid of the real king. She reveals that, when Don Alhambra’s men came to take the prince, she substituted her own son for the prince, whom she brought up as her own. The rightful king is therefore none other than Luiz.

Everyone therefore ends up with the right partner, although neither Tessa nor Gianetta will get to be a queen!

© John Welford