Scene -- The Zoological Gardens

In the beginning, we are greeted by a cross-section of the great British Public, taking their ease at the London Zoo and wondering what the beasts would say if only they could speak proper English. The crowd separates to reveal the bumbling and lovelorn apothecary, Æsculapius Carboy, intent upon hanging himself: his suit for the lovely Laetitia has been rejected by her father, Mr. Grinder, and his vengeful prank against Grinder (a double-strength mustard plaster or "blister") seems to have misfired, to Laetitia's detriment. Carboy's suicide attempt is brusquely interrupted by Eliza Smith, the proprietress of the nearby refreshment stall. As she then hawks her wares to the Public, her swain Thomas Brown appears, come to the Zoo in search of virtue, and captivated by the beauty of her voice. In token of his love for Eliza, Thomas accompanies her to the refreshment stall and consumes a significant portion of its contents. Meanwhile, Laetitia appears and is reunited with Carboy. Eliza and Thomas emerge from the stall and he collapses in a stupor, a victim of his own excess. All present try to revive him, with Carboy writing a prescription and Eliza rushing off to have it filled.

In time Thomas recovers, but in the process we discover that simple Tom Brown is really a peer in disguise. He tells the assemblage of his love, and they counsel him that marriage is the appropriate course. He readily assents, and goes off to make himself presentable. Now Grinder angrily rushes through, searching for Laetitia. Next, Eliza returns with the prescription, and is mystified to find that Thomas is gone. The Public advise her to wait for a pleasant surprise, and she passes the time by telling us how she has managed to maintain her virtue. Laetitia and Carboy enter and are discovered by Grinder, with the predictable contretemps. He again rejects Carboy's suit, despite Laetitia's pleas, and Carboy again prepares to kill himself--this time by climbing into the bear pit. Thomas Brown reappears, rightfully clothed as the Duke of Islington, and proposes to Eliza. He overcomes her hesitation to leaving the animals by buying them all as a wedding present. Carboy, thwarted in his latest suicide attempt by an empty bear pit, reemerges. Impressed by Carboy's devotion to Laetitia, Thomas quietly finds the appropriate (monetary) arguments to appease Grinder's objections, enabling that couple to marry as well. The Public (and the audience) rejoice in the ultimate triumph of virtue and love: Hurray! Hurray!

-- Kurtiss Gordon

Trial by Jury opened at the Royalty Theatre on March 25, 1875, a date which marks the true beginning of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas. A few months later, both librettist and composer appeared once more on the same bill, but not in tandem. A farcical comedy of Gilbert's, Tom Cobb, had been playing at the St. James Theatre for about six weeks when, on June 5th, a new afterpiece was premiered: The Zoo, with music by Arthur Sullivan and lyrics by Bolton Rowe. (Incidentally, a comparable joint-but-separate Gilbert and Sullivan appearance on the same bill had previously occurred in 1869, when Sullivan's and F. C. Burnand's extremely popular Cox and Box was joined by Gilbert's and Thomas German Reed's No Cards.) Most distinguished among the original cast of The Zoo was Henrietta Hodson, who received good notices for her performance as Eliza Smith despite the risqué nature of her solo number. Gilbert could hardly have been pleased at her presence, as she was at the time his chief nemesis--that is, she was an actress-manager who refused to knuckle under to Gilbert's dictatorial ways in rehearsal, and even engaged him in a brief pamphlet skirmish.

The Zoo lasted at the St. James for only a few weeks, when manager Marie Litton's season ended. Edgar Bruce, who was playing Thomas Brown, transferred the piece to the Haymarket, where it ran until July 10th. Another short run followed in October, at the Philharmonic Theatre in suburban Islington. Sullivan toyed with the idea of revising The Zoo, and even asked a friend, Alan Cole, to help him with it, but nothing came of the project. A final spasm for this "musical folly" occurred in 1879, when Edgar Bruce produced it once more at the Royalty, with a stellar cast.

As Sullivan had not seen fit to publish The Zoo, and the few printed copies of the libretto had virtually vanished, no more was known or said about it for almost a century, beyond the erroneous statement that the composer had reused most of The Zoo's music in his later operas. All this changed in 1966, when the Sullivan manuscript scores and diaries, from the estate of the wife of the composer's nephew, came up for sale at Sotheby's in London. The Zoo was one of several scores acquired by Terence Rees, and for the astonishingly low price of £160. Rees wasted little time in requesting Garth Morton to prepare a vocal score from the orchestral one. The first modern performance of The Zoo was presented in 1971 by the Fulham Light Opera Company, and a printed edition of the score came out in 1975, exactly 100 years after the original premiere.

A reviewer of that first performance made crisply clear that the words were not up to the music: "The music by Arthur Sullivan is all that can be desired--pretty, effective, and not too original; but the libretto is the work of a gentleman whose ear for rhyme is on a par with his knowledge of metre," and that very low. "Bolton Rowe" was the pseudonym of Benjamin Charles ("Charlie") Stephenson who, in later years, would team up with the dramatist and critic Clement Scott in writing a number of comedies and dramas. He achieved his greatest success in 1886 when he provided the libretto for Dorothy, with music by Alfred Cellier. You will listen in vain for the wit and the verbal and conceptual dexterity of a Gilbert in the lyrics of The Zoo, albeit there is much fun and good humor. Little wonder that Trial by Jury has never left the boards since 1875, while The Zoo remains Sullivan's least known stage work. The wonder is that, with so little to inspire him, Sullivan was able to be so tuneful and sprightly. Stephenson deserves credit, however, for prompting Sullivan to make his first attempt at one of his most distinctive devices--the double chorus or, in this case, a double duet--two pairs singing different melodies ingeniously woven together.

-- Jim Ellis

The VLO is a non-profit corporation organized in 1975 by a group of Gilbert and Sullivan devotees. We present a fully staged opera in the fall of each year, and less formal productions in the early spring. Over the past eighteen years, the VLO has produced all fourteen of the G&S operas, as well as Cox and Box, The Zoo (in 1983), and Sullivan's oratorio The Prodigal Son. In addition, we have performed John Philip Sousa's El Capitan and Warren Martin's The True Story of Cinderella. With Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld next November, the VLO marks its first departure from Gilbert and Sullivan in a major production.

It is not necessary to be a member to participate, nor must one be able to sing and dance. The VLO is a community group, made up entirely of volunteers, and there is a place for you on either side of the footlights. Are you interested in doing or learning make-up, costumes, scenery construction, painting, or lighting? Maybe you would rather work on the program, do publicity, sell tickets, usher, or help with refreshments. If you are interested in participating or want more information, we would be happy to talk with you after the performance today; or you could call Cami Elbow at 549-0024 or Louise Krieger at 665-4359.

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