Sir Arthur Sullivan
Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan—musical half of the comic-opera team of Gilbert and Sullivan—was born in London, England, on May 13, 1842. The son of a bandmaster, Sullivan was appointed to the Chapel Royal School in 1854. One year after that his first published composition appeared, an anthem. In 1856 he was the first recipient of the recently instituted Mendelssohn Award which entitled him to attend the Royal Academy of Music where he studied under Sterndale Bennett and Goss. From 1858 to 1861 he attended the Leipzig Conservatory. After returning to London in 1862, he achieved recognition as a serious composer with several ambitious compositions including the Irish Symphony, a cello concerto, a cantata, and an oratorio. Meanwhile, in 1866, he had become professor of composition at the Royal Academy, and in 1867 he completed his first score in a light style, the comic opera Cox and Box, libretto by F. C. Burnand, which enjoyed a successful engagement in London.
In 1871, a singer introduced Sullivan to W. S. Gilbert, a one-time attorney who had attracted some interest in London as the writer of burlesques. An enterprising impresario, John Hollingshead of the Gaiety Theater, then was responsible for getting Gilbert and Sullivan to work on their first operetta. This was Thespis, produced in London in 1871, and a failure. It was several years before librettist and composer worked together again. When they did it was for a new impresario, Richard D’Oyly Carte, for whom they wrote a one-act comic opera, Trial by Jury, a curtain raiser to a French operetta which Carte was producing in London on March 25, 1875. Trial by Jury—a stinging satire on court trials revolving around a breach of promise suit—inaugurates the epoch of Gilbert and Sullivan. D’Oyly Carte now commissioned Gilbert and Sullivan to create a new full length comic opera for a company he had recently formed. The new light opera company made a successful bow with The Sorcerer, on November 17, 1877. Pinafore, a year later on May 25, 1878, made Gilbert and Sullivan a vogue and a passion both in London and in New York. In 1879 Gilbert and Sullivan came to the United States where on December 31 they introduced a new comic opera, The Pirates of Penzance, that took the country by storm. Upon returning to London, Gilbert and Sullivan opened a new theater built for them by D’Oyly Carte—the Savoy—with Patience, a tumultuous success on April 25, 1881. After that came Iolanthe (1882), Princess Ida (1884), The Mikado (1885), the Yeomen of the Guard (1888) and The Gondoliers (1889).
Gilbert and Sullivan came to the parting of the ways in 1890, the final rift precipitated by a silly argument over the cost of a carpet for the Savoy Theater. But the differences between them had long been deep rooted. An attempt to revive the partnership was made in 1893 with Utopia Limited, and again with The Grand Duke in 1896. Both comic operas were failures.
After 1893, Sullivan wrote a grand opera, Ivanhoe, and several operetta scores to librettists other than Sullivan. None of these were successful. During the last years of his life he suffered from deterioration of his health, and was almost always in acute pain. He died in London on November 22, 1900. Gilbert died eleven years after that.
Of Sullivan’s other achievements in the field of music mention must be made of his importance as a conductor of the concerts of the London Philharmonic from 1885 to 1887, and of the Leeds Festival from 1880 to 1898. Between 1876 and 1881 he was principal of, and professor of composition at, the National Training School for Music. In recognition of his high estate in English music, he was the recipient of many honors. In 1878 he was made Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, and in 1883 he was knighted by Queen Victoria.
It is irony fitting for a Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera that the music on which Sullivan lavished his most fastidious attention and of which he was most proud has been completely forgotten (except for one or two minor exceptions). But the music upon which he looked with such condescension and self apology is that which has made him an immortal—in the theater if not in the concert world. For where Sullivan was heavy-handed, pretentious, and often stilted in his oratorios, serious operas, and orchestral compositions, he was consistently vital, fresh, personal, and vivacious in his lighter music. In setting Gilbert’s lyrics to music, Sullivan was always capable of finding the musical mot juste to catch every nuance of Gilbert’s wit and satire. So neatly, even inevitably, does the music fit the words that it is often difficult to think of one without the other. Like Gilbert, Sullivan was a master of parody and satire; he liked particularly to mock at the pretensions of grand opera, oratorio, and the sentimental ballad, pretensions of which he himself was a victim when he endeavored to work in those fields. Like Gilbert, he had a pen that raced with lightning velocity in the writing of patter music to patter verses. Sullivan, moreover, had a reservoir of melodies seemingly inexhaustible—gay tunes, mocking tunes, and tunes filled with telling sentiment—and he was able to adapt the fullest resources of his remarkable gift at harmony, rhythm and orchestration to the manifold demands of the stage. He was no man’s imitator. Without having recourse to experimentation or unorthodox styles and techniques, his style and manners were so uniquely his that, as T. F. Dunhill has said, “his art is always recognizable.... The Sullivan touch is unmistakable and can be felt instantly.”
Of the universality of the Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas, Isaac Goldberg wrote: “They [Gilbert and Sullivan] were not the rebels of an era, yet as surely they were not the apologists. Their light laughter carried a pleasant danger of its own that, without being the laughter of a Figaro, helped before the advent of a Shaw to keep the atmosphere clear. Transition figures they were, in an age of transition, caught between the personal independence of the artist and the social imperatives of their station. They did not cross over into the new day, though they served as a footbridge for others. Darwin gave them... only a song for Princess Ida, their melodious answer to the revolt of woman against a perfumed slavery; Swinburne and Wilde... characters for Patience. They chided personal foibles, and only indirectly social abuses. They were, after all, moralists not sociologists. It was in their natures; it was of their position. Yet something vital in them lives beyond their time. From their era of caste, of smug rectitude, of sanctimoniousness, they still speak to an age that knows neither corset nor petticoat, that votes with its women, and finds Freud insufficiently aphrodisiac. Perhaps it is because they chide individuals and not institutions that their work, so admirably held in solution by Sullivan’s music, has lived through the most critical epoch in modern history since the French Revolution. For, underneath the cataclysmic changes of history remain the foibles that make us the fit laughter of the gods.”
Overtures to and potpourris from the principal Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas are integral to the repertory of salon and pop orchestras everywhere. In all cases, the overture is made up of the opera’s main melodies, and in most cases these overtures were written by others.
The Gondoliers was the last of the Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas to survive in the permanent repertory. It was produced on December 7, 1889. After the operatic pretension of the Yeomen of the Guard which had preceded it, The Gondoliers represented a welcome return by the authors to the world of paradox, absurdity, and confusion. It has aptly been described as a “farce of errors.” The setting is Venice in the middle of the 18th century. The Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro come to Venice accompanied by their daughter, Casilda, and a drummer boy, Luiz, who loves her. In her childhood, Casilda had married the infant heir to the throne of Barataria. This heir had then been stolen and entrusted to the care of a gondolier who raised him as one of his two sons. In time the gondolier himself has forgotten which of his two boys is of royal blood. To complicate matters even further, the two gondolier boys, Marco and Giuseppe, are married. Thus it seems impossible to solve the problem as to who really is the heir to Barataria’s throne and by the same token Gasilda’s husband. But when this problem is finally unscrambled it turns out that the heir is neither Marco nor Giuseppe, but none other than Luiz.
The following are the principal selections from The Gondoliers: Antonio’s song, “For the Merriest Fellows Are We”; the duet of Marco and Giuseppe, “We’re Called Gondolieri”; the autobiographical chant of the Duke of Plaza-Toro, “The Duke of Plaza-Toro”; the duet of Casilda and Luiz, “There Was a Time”; the song of the Grand Inquisitor, “I Stole the Prince”; Tessa’s song, “When a Merry Maiden Marries”; the duet of Marco and Giuseppe, “For Everyone Who Feels Inclined”; Giuseppe’s patter song, “Rising Early in the Morning”; Marco’s serenade, “Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes”; and the song of the Duchess, “On the Day that I was Wedded.”
Iolanthe, introduced on November 25, 1882, carried Gilbert’s love of paradox, confusion and absurdity into the fairy kingdom. To Isaac Goldberg, this comic opera, both as words and as music is “a peer among its kind. It is surprisingly complete. It is, indeed, of Gilbert and of Sullivan, all compact. The Gilbertian conflict between reality and fantasy is mirrored in details great and small—in scene, costume, in line, in gesture.... It would be difficult to find among the remaining thirteen comic operas one that reveals the collaborators playing so neatly into each other’s hands—responding so closely to the conscious and unconscious demands of the reciprocal personality.” The heroine, Iolanthe, is a fairy who has married a mortal and thus has been banished to the bottom of a stream by the Queen of her kingdom. But the Queen eventually forgives Iolanthe. Upon returning to her fairy kingdom, Iolanthe discovers she is the mother of a son, Strephon, who is half fairy and half mortal; and Strephon is in love with the mortal, Phyllis, who, in turn, is being pursued not only by her guardian, the Lord Chancellor, but even by the entire House of Peers. When Phyllis finds Strephon with Iolanthe she suspects him of infidelity, since she has no idea that Iolanthe is Strephon’s mother. Immediately she begins to bestow her kindly glances upon two members of the House of Peers. Summoned for help, Iolanthe reveals that Strephon is, indeed, her son, and that his father is none other than the Lord Chancellor. By this time the other fairies of the kingdom have succumbed to the charms and appeal of the Peers. Iolanthe is saved from a second punishment when the Lord Chancellor helps change fairy law to read that any fairy not marrying a mortal is subject to death.
Leading numbers from Iolanthe include the following: the opening chorus of the fairies, “Tripping Hither, Tripping Thither”; Strephon’s song, “Good Morrow, good Mother”; the love duet of Phyllis and Strephon, “Thou the Tree and I the Flower”; Entrance, chorus, and march of the Peers, “Loudly Let the Trumpet Bray” followed immediately by the Lord Chancellor’s monologue, “The Law is the True Embodiment”; the Lord Chancellor’s personal credo, “When I Went to the Bar”; the song of Willis, the sentry, “When All Night Long a Chap Remains”; Lord Mount Arrat’s chauvinistic hymn, “When Britain Really Ruled the Waves”; the Fairy Queen’s song, “Oh, Foolish Fay”; the Lord Chancellor’s patter song about a nightmare, “When You’re Lying Awake”; the trio of the Lord Chancellor, Mount Ararat and Tolloler, “If You Go In”; Strephon’s song, “Fold Your Flapping Wings”; and the finale, “Soon as We May.”
The Mikado was a sensation when first performed in London on March 14, 1885; and with many it is still the favorite of all Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas. By 1900, it had received over one thousand performances in London and five thousand in the United States. Since then these figures have multiplied. It has been adapted for motion pictures, and in New York it has been given in two different jazz versions (The Hot Mikado and Swing Mikado). In 1960 it was presented over television with Groucho Marx as the Lord High Executioner.
In its own day much of its appeal was due to its exotic setting of Japan and strange Japanese characters. Such a novelty for the English stage was the strong spice that endowed the play with much of its succulent flavor. Gilbert’s inspiration had been a miniature Japanese village set up in the Knightsbridge section of London which aroused and stimulated the interest of the English people in all things Japanese. Gilbert was one of those who became fascinated by this Oriental exhibit, and his fascination led him to conceive a comic opera with a Japanese background.
But while the Japanese are certainly no longer curiosities in the theater—have, indeed, become a vogue on Broadway since the end of World War II—The Mikado has never lost its tremendous popularity. For The Mikado represents Gilbert and Sullivan at their creative peak. The whimsical characters, absurd situations, the savage malice of the wit and satire, and the strange and paradoxical deviations of the plot find Gilbert at the height of his whimsical imagination and skill; and at every turn, Sullivan was there with music that captured every subtle echo of Gilbert’s fancy.
The thought of having to marry the unattractive Katisha proves so distasteful to Nanki-Poo, son of the Mikado, that he puts on the disguise of a wandering minstrel and flees. After coming to the town of Titipu, he meets and falls in love with Yum-Yum who, in turn, is being sought after by her own guardian, Ko-Ko, the Lord High Executioner. The Lord High Executioner faces a major problem. The ruler of Japan has sent a message to Titipu stating that since no execution has taken place there for many years the office of Lord High Executioner will be abolished if somebody is not executed shortly. When Ko-Ko discovers that Nanki-Poo is about to commit suicide, rather than live without Yum-Yum, he finds a solution to his own problem. Ko-Ko is willing to allow Nanki-Poo to marry Yum-Yum and live with her for a month if at the end of that time he allows himself to be beheaded. The wedding takes place, but before the beheading can be consummated the Mikado arrives on the scene with Katisha. Only then is the discovery made in Titipu that Nanki-Poo is the Mikado’s son and that anyone responsible for his death must boil in oil. The news that Nanki-Poo is alive saves Ko-Ko from this terrible fate; but he soon confronts another in the form of Katisha, whom he must now marry to compensate her for her loss of Nanki-Poo.
Many of the excerpts from The Mikado are known to anyone who has ever heard or whistled a tune. These are the most significant: the opening chorus of the Japanese nobles, “If You Want to Know Who We Are”; Nanki-Poo’s self-introductory ballad, “A Wandering Minstrel I”; Pish-Tush’s description of the Mikado’s decree against flirtation, “Our Great Mikado”; Ko-Ko’s famous patter song, “I’ve Got a Little List”; the song of Yum-Yum’s companions, “Three Little Maids”; the affecting duet of Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum, “Were You Not to Ko-Ko Plighted”; Yum-Yum’s radiant song, “The Sun Whose Rays”; Ko-Ko’s allegorical song, “Tit Willow”; the madrigal of Yum-Yum, Pitti Sing, Nanki-Poo and Pish Tush, “Brightly Dawns Our Wedding Day”; the sprightly trio of Yum-Yum, Nanki-Poo and Ko-Ko, “Here’s a How-de-do”; the song of the Mikado, “My Object All Sublime”; the duet of Nanki-Poo and Ko-Ko, “The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring.”
Patience in 1881 directed its well aimed satirical pricks and barbs at the pre-Raphaelite movement in England with its fetish for simplicity and naturalness; and with equal accuracy at poets and esthetes like Oscar Wilde and Algernon Swinburne, leaders of an esthetic movement that encouraged postures, poses, and pretenses. Twenty maidens are turned into esthetes through their common love for the “fleshly poet” Bunthorne. Because of this love they hold in disdain their former sweethearts, the officers of the Heavy Dragoon. Bunthorne, however, is in love with the simple, unselfish milkmaid Patience, who dotes after the idyllic poet of heavenly beauty, Grosvenor. Since Patience is unselfish she cannot hope to win Grosvenor’s love, for to be loved by one so beautiful is the most selfish thing in the world. She decides to accept Bunthorne. Now the twenty love-sick maidens fall in love with Grosvenor and through his influence abandon estheticism for simplicity. Unaware of this new direction in their loved ones, the Dragoons desert their uniforms for esthetic garb, substitute their former practical everyday behavior for extravagant postures and poses. Weary of the demands made upon him by the doting maids, Grosvenor (with a push from Bunthorne) becomes commonplace. But, unfortunately for Bunthorne, since it is no longer selfish to be loved by a commonplace man, Patience returns to Grosvenor. The maidens, now interested in the commonplace, can now return to their Dragoons. But poor Bunthorne is left alone with nothing but a lily in his hand to console him.
The following are the principal selections from Patience: the opening female chorus, “Twenty Lovesick Maidens We”; Patience’s simple query about the nature of love, “I Cannot Tell What This Love May Be”; the chorus of the Dragoons, “The Soldiers of Our Queen” followed immediately by the Colonel’s patter song, “If You Want a Receipt”; Bunthorne’s recipe for success in the business of being an esthete, “If You’re Anxious For to Shine”; Grosvenor’s duet with Patience, “Prithee, Pretty Maiden”; Jane’s soliloquy, “Silvered is the Raven Hair” with which the second act opens; Grosvenor’s fable to the lovesick maidens, “The Magnet and the Churn”; Patience’s ballad, “Love is a Plaintive Song”; and the gay duet of Bunthorne and Grosvenor, “When I Go Out of Doors.”
Pinafore was the first of the successful Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas in which we encounter that strange topsy-turvy world over which Gilbert and Sullivan ruled; that we confront the accidents, coincidences, paradoxes, and mishaps that beset its hapless inhabitants. Pinafore is a devastating satire on the Admiralty in general and William H. Smith, its First Lord, in particular. But it also makes a mockery of social position. Ralph Rackstraw, a humble seaman, is in love with Josephine, daughter of Captain Corcoran, commanding officer of the H.M.S. Pinafore. But the first Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Joseph Porter, is also in love with her. Since Josephine’s father would never consent to have his daughter marry one so lowly as Ralph, the lovers decide to elope. But the plans are overheard by the seaman, Dick Deadeye, who reports them to the Captain with the result that Ralph is put in irons. An impasse is thus reached until Little Buttercup, a “Portsmouth Bumboat woman,” reveals an incident of the distant past. Entrusted the care of two infants she mixed them up with the result that the lowly born child, Corcoran, was mistaken for the one of high station and was thus able to rise to the station of Captain; but the child of high station believed to have been of lowly origin, Ralph, had been forced to become a seaman. By order of Sir Joseph, Ralph now becomes the master of the ship and can claim Josephine as his bride. The proud Captain, now reduced to a seaman, must content himself with Little Buttercup.
Pinafore was a sensation when introduced in London in 1878, enjoying seven hundred consecutive performances. But it proved even more sensational in the United States, following its première there at the Boston Museum on November 25 of the same year. Ninety different companies presented this comic opera throughout the country in that first season, with five different companies operating simultaneously in New York. Pinafore was given by colored groups, children’s groups, and religious groups. It was widely parodied. Some of its catch phrases (“What never? No never!” and “For he himself has said it”) entered American argot.
As a bountiful source of popular melodies, the score of Pinafore is second only in importance to that of The Mikado. Here are the main ones: the opening chorus of the sailors, “We Sail the Ocean Blue”; Buttercup’s forthright self-introduction, “I’m Called Little Buttercup”; Ralph’s madrigal, “The Nightingale,” and ballad, “A Maiden Fair to See”; the Captain’s colloquy with his crew, “I Am the Captain of the Pinafore”; Josephine’s poignant ballad, “Sorry Her Lot”; Sir Joseph’s exchange with his sisters, cousins, and aunts, “I am the Monarch of the Sea,” and his autobiographical, “When I Was a Lad”; the Captain’s sad reflection, “Fair Moon to Thee I Sing”; the choral episode, “Carefully on Tip-Toe Stealing” followed by the tongue-in-the-cheek paean to England and Englishmen, “He Is an Englishman.”
The Pirates of Penzance was the only Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera to receive its world première outside England. This took place in New York at the Fifth Avenue Theater in 1879. (There was a single hastily prepared performance in Paignton, England, on December 30, 1879 but this is not regarded as an official première.) The reason why The Pirates was introduced in New York was due to the presence there of its authors. Numerous pirated versions of Pinafore were then being given throughout the United States in about a hundred theaters, and Gilbert and Sullivan decided to come to America for the dual purpose of exploring the conditions under which they might protect their copyright and to offer an authorized version of their opera. In coming to the United States, they brought with them the manuscript of their new work, The Pirates of Penzance, and arranged to have its première take place in New York.
The Pirates of Penzance is a blood relative of Pinafore. Where Pinafore made fun of the British Navy, The Pirates concentrates on the British Army and constabulary. In Pinafore two babies are mixed up in the cradle for a confusion of their identities; in The Pirates it is the future professions of babies which are confounded in the cradle. In Pinafore the secret is divulged by Buttercup, in The Pirates by Ruth. Pinafore boasts a female chorus of cousins, sisters and aunts while The Pirates has a female chorus made up of the Major General’s daughters.
The hero is young Frederic, apprenticed to a band of pirates by his nurse Ruth, who mistakes the word “pilot” for “pirate.” Frederic falls in love with Mabel, one of the many daughters of Major General Stanley and looks forward eagerly to his freedom from his apprenticeship to the pirate band, which arrives on his twenty-first birthday. But Frederic discovers that since he was born on leap year the year of his freedom—his twenty-first birthday—is many, many years off; that by the calendar he is still only a little boy of five. As a pirate he must join his confederates in exterminating Mabel’s father and the constables attending him. But all turns out happily when the pirates actually prove to be ex-noblemen, and are thus found highly acceptable as husbands for the daughters of Major General Stanley. The Major General is also in favor of the union of Mabel and Frederic.
The following are the leading musical selections: the opening chorus of the pirates, “Pour, Oh Pour, the Pirate Sherry”; the Pirate king’s hymn to his profession, “For I am a Pirate King”; the chorus of the Major General’s daughters, “Climbing Over Rocky Mountain”; Frederic’s plaintive plea for a lover, “Oh, Is There Not One Maiden Breast”; the Major General’s autobiographical patter song, “I Am the Very Pattern of a Modern Major General”; the rousing chorus of the constabulary, “When the Foeman Bares His Steel”; the tripping trio of Ruth, Fred and the Pirate King on discovering Fred is only a child of five, “A Paradox, a Most Ingenious Paradox”; Mabel’s haunting ballad, “Oh, Leave Me Not to Pine”; the Police Sergeant’s commentary on his profession, “When a Felon’s Not Engaged in His Employment”; the Pirates’ chorus, “Come Friends Who Plough the Sea,” a melody expropriated by an American, Theodore Morse, for the lyric “Hail, Hail the Gang’s All Here”; and the General’s idyllic ballad, “Sighing Softly To the River.”
Ruddigore, a travesty on melodrama, was first performed on January 22, 1887. Because the Murgatroyd family has persecuted witches, an evil spirit had fated it to commit a crime a day. Ruthven Murgatroyd tries to flee from this curse by assuming the identity of simple Robin Oakapple. He meets and falls in love with Rose who is being sought after by Ruthven’s foster brother, Richard. Since Ruthven as Robin Oakapple has the upper hand with Rose, Richard avenges himself by revealing the fact that his brother is really a member of the Murgatroyd family and like all of them is the victim of the ancient family curse. Back in his ancestral home, Ruthven must fulfil his quota of crimes, a job he bungles so badly that his ancestors suddenly come alive out of the picture frames on the wall, to condemn him. But after numerous convolutions of typically Gilbertian logic and reasoning, the curse is broken and Ruthven can live happily with his beloved Rose.
From Ruddigore come the following familiar sections: the opening chorus of the bridesmaids, “Fair Is Rose as the Bright May Day”; Hannah’s legend, “Sir Rupert Murgatroyd”; Rose’s ballad, “If Somebody There Chanced to Be”; the extended duet of Robin and Rose, “I Know a Youth Who Loves a Little Maid”; Richard’s ballad, “I Shipped, D’ye See, in a Revenue Sloop”; Robin’s song, “My Boy You May Take it From Me”; the chorus of the bridesmaids, “Hail the Bride of Seventeen Summers” followed by Rose’s madrigal, “Where the Buds Are Blossoming”; the duet of Robin and Adam, “I Once Was As Meek as a New Born Lamb”; Rose’s ballad, “In Bygone Days”; the chorus of the family portraits, “Painted Emblems of a Race”; Sir Roderic’s patter song, “When the Night Wind Howls”; and Hannah’s ballad, “There Grew a Little Flower.”
The Sorcerer, the first successful Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera, was introduced in 1877. Alexis, in love with Aline, wishes to spread around the blessings of love. For this purpose he enlists the cooperation of John Wellington Wells, the creator of a love brew. In an effort to perpetuate Aline’s love for him, Alexis has her drink this potion, only to discover that his beloved has fallen for the vicar, Dr. Daly, he being the first man she sees after drinking the draught. Since Alexis is not the only one to suffer from this now-general epidemic of loving, a serious effort must be made to offset the effects of this magic: a human sacrifice. Naturally that sacrifice becomes none other than John Wellington Wells who is driven to self immolation before things can once again be set normal.
The music of The Sorcerer is not so well known as that of the other famous comic operas, but it does contain several Gilbert and Sullivan delights. Among them are: the song with which Wells introduces himself and his black art, “Oh! My Name Is John Wellington Wells,” the first of the Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs; the vicar’s haunting ballad, “Time Was When Love and I Were Well Acquainted”; and the romantic duet of Aline and Alexis, “It Is Not Love.”
In the Yeomen of the Guard, produced on October 3, 1888, the topsy-turvy world of Gilbert and Sullivan is temporarily sidestepped for another of operatic pretensions. Of all the Gilbert and Sullivan plays this one comes closest to resembling an opera. The immediate stimulus for the writing of the text came to Gilbert from an advertisement in a railway station depicting a Beefeater. Out of this acorn grew the oak of Gilbert’s play in which Colonel Charles Fairfax is falsely accused by his kinsman, Poltwhistle, of sorcery. For this he must be condemned to death in the Tower of London. Since Fairfax is not married, his fortune will pass on to his accuser. But Charles thwarts such evil designs by marrying Elsie Maynard, a strolling player—if only for an hour. Then he manages to escape from the Tower disguised as a yeoman of the guard. When the execution is to take place there is no victim. Eventually, a reprieve enables Charles to live permanently with Elsie.
The most important selections from the Yeomen of the Guard are: Phoebe’s song with which the opera opens, “When Maiden Loves”; the chorus of the yeomen, “In the Autumn of Our Life”; Fairfax’ ballad, “Is Life a Boon?”; the extended duet of Point and Elsie, “I Have a Song to Sing, O”; Phoebe’s ballad, “Were I Thy Bride”; Point’s patter song, “Oh, a Private Buffoon Is a Light-Hearted Loon”; the quartet of Elsie, Fairfax, Dame Carruthers and Meryll, “Strange Adventure”; the trio of Fairfax, Elsie and Phoebe, “A Man Who Would Woo a Fair Maid”; the quartet of Elsie, Fairfax, Phoebe and Point, “When a Wooer Goes a-Wooing”; and the finale, “Oh, Thoughtless Crew.”
Besides his music for the comic operas there exists a vast repertory of serious music by Sullivan. Of this hardly more than two songs have retained their popularity. One is “The Lost Chord,” lyric by Adelaide Proctor, written by Sullivan in December 1876 at the deathbed of his brother, Fred. From Charles Willeby we get an account of how this deeply moving piece of music came into being: “For nearly three weeks he watched by his bedside night and day. One night—the end was not very far off then—while his sick brother had for a time fallen into a peaceful sleep, and he was sitting as usual by the bedside, he chanced to come across some verses by Adelaide Proctor with which he had some five years previously been struck. He had then tried to set them to music, but without satisfaction to himself. Now in the stillness of the night he read them over again, and almost as he did so, he conceived their musical equivalent. A stray sheet of music paper was at hand, and he began to write. Slowly the music took shape, until, becoming quite absorbed in it, he determined to finish the song. Even if in the cold light of day it were to prove worthless, it would at least have helped to while away the hours of watching. So he worked on at it. As he progressed, he felt sure this was what he had sought for, and failed to find on the occasion of his first attempt to set the words. In a short time it was complete and not long after in the publisher’s hands. Thus was written ‘The Lost Chord,’ perhaps the most successful song of modern times.”
“Onward Christian Soldiers,” words by Sabine Baring-Gould, is the most celebrated of Sullivan’s more than fifty religious hymns. It is effective not merely for its religious mood but also for its martial spirit. “The music,” says Isaac Goldberg, “has the tread of armies in it, and a broad diatonic stride.” Sullivan wrote it in 1873 upon being appointed editor of the Hymnal, a collection of hymns published by Novello for the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge and the Hymnary.