Today’s word of the day, thanks to Words Coach, is peripeteia (https://www.wordscoach.com/dictionary). Peripeteia is a noun that means “sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances or situation especially in a literary work” (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/peripeteia). M-W continues, “Peripeteia comes from Greek, in which the verb peripiptein means “to fall around” or “to change suddenly.” It usually indicates a turning point in a drama after which the plot moves steadily to its denouement. In his Poetics, Aristotle describes peripeteia as the shift of the tragic protagonist’s fortune from good to bad—a shift that is essential to the plot of a tragedy” (ibid.). Of course, the Poetics focuses on tragedy; Aristotle says very little about comedy. Thus, peripeteia may very well have had a role in comedy according to a now-lost work by Aristotle.

Etymonline.com defines the word as “’that part of a drama in which the plot is tied together and the whole concludes, the denouement,’ 1590s, from Greek peripeteia “a turn right about; a sudden change’ (of fortune, in a tragedy), from peri ‘around’ (see peri-) + stem of piptein ‘to fall,’ from PIE *pi-pt-, reduplicated form of root *pet- ‘to rush; to fly’” (https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=peripeteia). So, given that part of the etymology of the word involves a root meaning “to fall,” maybe what I said about peripeteia in comedy is not possible.

Then again, there is already a term in theater for a sudden occurrence that brings about a happy ending: deus ex machina. “Deus ex machina is a Latin calque from Greek ἀπὸ μηχανῆς θεός (apò mēkhanês theós) ‘god from the machine’ The term was coined from the conventions of ancient Greek theater, where actors who were playing gods were brought on stage using a machine. The machine could be either a crane (mechane) used to lower actors from above or a riser that brought them up through a trapdoor. Aeschylus introduced the idea and it was used often to resolve the conflict and conclude the drama. The device is associated mostly with Greek tragedy, although it also appeared in comedies” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deus_ex_machina). The English of the phrase is “god from the machine.”

An example of a deus ex machina comes from an operetta that premiered on this date in 1878, W. S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan’s The H. M. S. Pinafore. It opened at the Opera Comique in London and became Gilbert and Sullivan’s first international hit.

The man responsible for it was Richard D’Oyly Carte. He was the manager of the Royalty Theatre and had brought Gilbert and Sullivan together for their second collaboration, the one-act operetta Trial by Jury (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H.M.S._Pinafore). Carte wanted to compete against French operetta and burlesque, which had become quite popular in London, with more family friendly comic opera. Jessie Bond, a mezzo-soprano who featured in a number of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, wrote of the time, “The stage was at a low ebb, Elizabethan glories and Georgian artificialities had alike faded into the past, stilted tragedy and vulgar farce were all the would-be playgoer had to choose from, and the theatre had become a place of evil repute to the righteous British householder” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comic_opera).

The plot is fairly simple: “The story takes place aboard the Royal Navy ship HMS Pinafore. The captain’s daughter, Josephine, is in love with a lower-class sailor, Ralph Rackstraw, although her father intends her to marry Sir Joseph Porter, the First Lord of the Admiralty. She abides by her father’s wishes at first, but Sir Joseph’s advocacy of the equality of humankind encourages Ralph and Josephine to overturn conventional social order. They declare their love for each other and eventually plan to elope. The Captain discovers this plan, but, as in many of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas, a surprise disclosure changes things dramatically near the end of the story” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H.M.S._Pinafore).

W. S. Gilbert, the librettist, was mostly responsible for the stories, while Arthur Sullivan was the composer of the music. Gilbert talked about the world of their operettas as topsy-turvey. Absurd situations led to even more absurd conclusions. To offset this topsy-turvey world, Gilbert strived for realism in the costumes and scenery, even going so far, in the case of Pinafore, of visiting a naval shipyard and sketching two of the ships (ibid.).

Gilbert and Sullivan operettas also feature satire, and in Pinafore the satire is directed at the upper classes and their relationship to the Royal Navy, in particular the W. H. Smith: “Despite Gilbert’s disclaimer, audiences, critics and even the Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli, identified Sir Joseph Porter with W. H. Smith, a politician who had recently been appointed First Lord of the Admiralty despite having neither military nor nautical experience” (ibid.). In his introduction, entitled “When I Was a Lad,” Sir Joseph tells us his story, how he rose from being an office boy to becoming a member of Parliament and eventually Lord High Admiral (“The Monarch of the Sea”). The last verse is this:

Now landsmen all, whoever you may be,

If you want to rise to the top of the tree,

If your soul isn’t fettered to an office stool,

Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

(Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.)

Stick close to your desks and never go to sea,

And you all may be rulers of the Queen’s Navee!

(Stick close to your desks and never go to sea,                                                                                                

And you all may be rulers of the Queen’s Navee!) (https://genius.com/Gilbert-and-sullivan-when-i-was-a-lad-annotated).

I am not going to share with you the peripeteia, the deus ex machina, that brings about a happy ending in this tale. That would be a spoiler. But I will share a link to John Reed performing “When I Was a Lad” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvVRZeC-Ssg), and I’ll invite you to look for the whole operetta either live or recorded. And if you like it, you might want to try The Pirates of Penzance and The Mikado, the three comprising my favorites among the G&S canon.

Today’s image is of John Reed performing Sir Joseph (https://gsarchive.net/carte/reminisce/index.html).