"TRIAL BY JURY."
_Produced March 25th, 1875._
Gilbert and Sullivan's fame was really based on a little comic opera
called "Thespis." It was produced by John Hollingshead at the Gaiety,
and its success was so great that Mr. Richard D'Oyly Carte was induced
to invite them to collaborate again in the first of what we now know as
the D'Oyly Carte operas, the dramatic cantata, "Trial by Jury." Short
and slender as it is, this opera has always been immensely popular, and
it still appears regularly in the company's programmes. Gilbert, who had
himself followed the law before he transferred his talents to the stage,
took as his subject an imaginary breach of promise case between Edwin
and Angelina. That it is a faithful picture of a court of law and of
those who minister there one would never dare to suggest! But as a very
free and clever burlesque even those who follow the vocation of the wig
and gown will admit its claims immediately.
When the curtain rises we see the interior of a court of justice, and
the barristers, solicitors and jury are already in their places. The
Usher, a functionary of the old school, at once proceeds to give some
homely and informal advice to the jurymen, telling them to listen to the
case with minds free from vulgar prejudice. With that he goes on to try
to soften their masculine hearts over the plight of poor Angelina. When
the defendant enters the twelve good men and true shake their fists in
his face, hail him as a "monster," and bid him "dread our damages."
Edwin ventures to suggest that, as they are in the dark as to the merits
of his case, these proceedings are strange. He tells how he once
rapturously adored the lady, how she then began to bore him intensely,
and how at last he became "another's love-sick boy." The jury reflect
that they, too, were rather inconstant in their own youthful days, but
now that they are older and "shine with a virtue resplendent" they
"haven't a scrap of sympathy with the defendant."
The Judge now takes his seat on the bench. The genial soul, as a prelude
to the duties of the day, confides how he rose to judicial eminence. For
years he searched in vain for briefs, and then he found an easy escape
from poverty by marrying a rich attorney's elderly, ugly daughter. He
would, his father-in-law said, soon get used to her looks, and in the
meanwhile he promised to deluge him with briefs for the "Sessions and
Ancient Bailey." By these means he prospered, and then he "threw over
that rich attorney's elderly, ugly daughter." And now he is ready to try
this present breach of promise of marriage.
Counsel for the plaintiff having taken his place, the jury are sworn
well and truly to try the case, which they do by kneeling low down in
the box and, with the exception of their upraised hands, quite out of
sight. The plaintiff's arrival is heralded by that of a beautiful bevy
of bridesmaids. The Judge, having taken a fancy to one of them, pens her
a little note, which she kisses rapturously. Yet when he sees the
plaintiff, a still brighter vision of loveliness, he orders that the
note shall be taken from the bridesmaid and given to her. Judge and jury
alike are entranced. Counsel proceeds to open the case, and with bitter
reproaches he assails the traitor whose heartless wile victimised his
"interesting client," to whom "Camberwell (had) become a bower, Peckham
an Arcadian vale." The plaintiff weeps. When she is lead to the
witness-box she falls in a faint on to the foreman's shoulders, but upon
the Judge inquiring whether she would not rather recline on him, the
fair lady jumps on to the bench and sits down fondly by the side of the
Judge.
Edwin, regarded by all as an object of villainy, now proceeds to state
his case, and can only offer to marry the lady to-day and then marry his
new love to-morrow. The Judge suggests that this may be a fair
proposition, but counsel holds that, on the other hand, "to marry two at
once is burglaree." Angelina, with a view to increasing the damages, now
embraces her inconstant lover and calls upon the jury to witness what a
loss she has to deplore. Edwin, in the hope in turn of reducing them,
declares that at heart he is a ruffian and a bully, and that she could
never endure him a day. The Judge suggests that, as the man declares
that when tipsy he would thrash her and kick her, the best plan would be
for them to make him tipsy and see! Objection is raised to this on every
side, and then the man of law, losing his temper and scattering the
books hither and thither, declares that as nothing will please them he
will marry the lady himself. This solution seems to carry general
agreement. The Judge, having claimed her hand, sings:--
"Though homeward as you trudge
You declare my law is fudge,
Yet of beauty I'm a judge."