Ahoy, mateys! Sept. 19 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, and when it comes to verbose villains of the sea, few are more eloquent than those in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance. The musical made its Toronto debut on May 10, 1880, at the city's Grand Opera House. Here, from our archives, is The Globe's review of that performance.
Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan having taken the public by storm, as they did with their "Pinafore," anything in the shape of comic opera subsequently produced by them was certain of a fair hearing. All were so charmed and delighted with the irresistible incongruities, the striking hits and phrases, the quaint wit, and perhaps above all, with the bright and airy music of that pretty little extravagance, that they cried eagerly for more.
When the "Pirates of Penzance," therefore, was first produced in New York a few months ago the people were in a mood to be pleased, and there can be little doubt that the "Pirates" owes much of its success to the fact that it is by the clever authors of "Pinafore."
Yet the public, while generous to its favourites, never forgets to be just; it often relentlessly frowns upon those who once lived only in its smiles; it is utterly merciless in this respect, and we may rest assured that if this last child of the author's fancy was void of intrinsic merit, it would never have been nursed into popular favour in the lap of "Pinafore."
Of course, one inevitably finds himself, as by impulse, comparing one with the other; and though they have some resemblances, their differences undoubtedly exceed them. There is the same simplicity, or rather absence, of plot, the same perfect disregard of time, space, law, order, and everything else, the same playful humour, the same aspect of ridiculous seriousness in one as in the other.
While "Pinafore" places before us the crew of a ship, the "Pirates" shows us a band of pirates; the former has its favourite, the lovestruck Ralph Rackstraw; the latter has its favourite, the love-struck Frederick; instead of Sir Joseph Porter, with his many female relatives, we have Major-General Stanley, with his score or so of daughters; Little Buttercup has her counterpart in Ruth, the Pirates' maid-of-all-work, and perhaps Dick Deadeye his in the Pirate King.
But the "Pirates" differ from its prototype in the, if possible, greater absurdity of its situations, the finer and more subtle quality of its wit, the superior beauty and romance of its incidents, and chiefly in the more brilliant and elaborate character of its music.
Without raising the question whether the success of the work is due more to the libretto or to the music, it may safely be asserted that Mr. Sullivan here has given freer scope to his powers, and produced a more melodious and ornate composition than he did in "Pinafore." While lacking the originality of that work, and the tuneful airs, so "taking" to the popular ear and fancy, the later production will be more attractive to the cultivated taste, and more susceptible of a high standard of criticism. Mr. Sullivan's genius seems sometimes to break forth into the classical opera in spite of himself, especially in the orchestration, several passages of which are highly embellished.
The play is in two acts. The first opens upon a bit of Cornish coast, where the band of pirates, with their ship in the distance, introduce themselves in a lively chorus.
One of them, Frederick, a youth apprenticed to the evil trade till his 21st birthday, brings consternation among them by announcing the fulfilment of is term and his determination to leave the band, and afterwards, from his exaggerated sense of duty, to undertake their extermination. The chief, though reluctant to part with his apprentice, commends him for his conscientiousness, and admonishes him to always bow to his sense of duty.
Ruth, the maid-of-all-work, a gushing girl of 47 summers, here comes forward and relates how, through confounding the words "pilot" and "pirate," she when his nurse had apprenticed the lad to one instead of the other. The pirates then withdraw, leaving Ruth and Frederick alone. Ruth, overcome with a sense of coming separation, makes love to Frederick, who first rejects, but afterwards accepts her, on her assurance that she is as handsome as other women.
The sudden appearance of General Stanley's score of daughters, however, discloses to him the fact that Ruth has deceived him regarding her beauty, and he casts her off.
On his promise to reform, the General's youngest daughter, Mabel, accepts Frederick, who is in the midst of his love-making when the rest of the pirates suddenly burst upon the scene, each snatching a daughter, intending
To embrace this opportunity / To get married with impunity / By a doctor of divinity / Who resides in this vicinity.
General Stanley, however, appears upon the heights, and after a pompous, self-glorifying introduction, forbids the banns.
He says he objects to pirates as sons-in-law, at which the King declares that they also object to a Major-General as a father-in-law, but adds, "we waive that point." The pirates seize the old gentleman, and are inexorable to all entreaty until he tells them
– O men of dark and dismal fate! / Forego your cruel employ, / Have pity on my lonely state, / I am an orphan boy.
Orphans being the special weakness of these otherwise ferocious villains, their hearts are touched, and shedding tears of sympathy with the orphan's sad fate, they let him and his daughters go. After an impressive chorus, invocative of
“Poetry, thou heaven-born maid,”
they separate, the General mounting the heights, waving the Union Jack at the head of his daughters, and the pirates indulging in a wild dance on the beach, with their King waving the black flag over them. This ends the first Act.
The second Act opens in a ruined chapel on the General's estate, in which are interred his ancestors "by purchase." He is there lamenting the sin of obtaining his escape by calling himself an orphan when he was none, with his daughters vainly attempting to console him.
Frederick enters, in the uniform of a lieutenant, having exchanged the trade of a pirate for the service of the Queen, and, after the departure of the General and his daughters, is surprised by the appearance of the Pirate King and Ruth, who inform him that he was born on the 29th of February, and in order to serve them until his 21st birthday, he must again submit to them until 1940. They appeal to Frederick's sense of duty, which compels him to again become a pirate, in spite of the dissuasions of Mabel, whom he promises to return to and marry when he concludes his term.
The same sense of duty compels him to inform the pirates of how the General deceived them. In their indignation they determine to slay the General and visit his castle at night. They discover him in his night dress, seize him and are about to slay him, when a squad of policemen break upon them, when a struggle ensues in which the policemen are floored.
Though completely in the pirates' hands, they demand the latter's surrender in the Queen's name, and the pirates throw down their swords and yield gracefully out of love to their Queen. Then Ruth, in a recitative, tells the General that the pirates are no common people, but all "noblemen gone wrong." Whereupon the General asks, "What, all?" and Ruth replies, "Well, nearly all." On this information he consents to their marriage with his daughters, and the performance ends with an ensemble of the principal choruses.
The play was put on the boards at the Grand Opera House last night in the most complete and satisfactory manner. The Company is large and well trained, and so enthusiastic were the audience in their appreciation of the performance that they frequently called for repetitions. It is needless to say that the House was well filled.
The Company will remain for three more nights. Owing to the funeral of the late Hon. George Brown* taking place on Wednesday, the matinee performance announced for that afternoon will not be given.
* George Brown, The Globe's founder and a Father of Confederation, died of an infected wound two days before this review was published. He had been shot in the leg weeks earlier by a former Globe employee.
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