Its libretto is more farcical than W. S. Gilbert's satiric libretti, revolving around mistaken identities and topical humour instead of topsy-turvy plot absurdities.
In his absence it became clear that the opera needed a big romantic ballad, and Cellier's publisher Chappell suggested using one of his existing songs, "Old Dreams", which with new words as "Queen of my Heart" was interpolated into the piece and became a huge success.
It starred Marion Hood in the title role opposite the popular Hayden Coffin, with comedians Arthur Williams, Furneaux Cook and John Le Hay.
The Times wrote, "Gentility reigns supreme, and with it unfortunately also a good deal of the refined feebleness and the ineptitude which are the defects of that quality.
[9] Some critics reconsidered their earlier condemnation, the work became regarded as a classic Victorian piece,[4] and the initially despised plot was traced seriously back to the Restoration playwrights David Garrick and Aphra Behn, and to Oliver Goldsmith and even Shakespeare.
[5] There was also a New York run from 5 November 1887 to April 1888 starring Lillian Russell as the title character, and the show was revived in America until about 1900.
A successful tour of Australia also began in 1887, with Leonora Braham making her Australian debut,[11] followed by an 1888 production starring Nellie Stewart and more revivals into the 1890s.
[13] The story of Dorothy reflects touches of cynicism, early feminism, and utilises plenty of mistaken-identity and social-class-distinction comic situations.
At old John Tuppitt's inn in rural Kent, the countryfolk of the neighbourhood of Chanticleer Hall, the property of Squire Bantam, are enjoying themselves on the morning of an autumn day in 1740.
Dorothy Bantam, the Squire's daughter, and Lydia Hawthorne, his niece, take the opportunity to dress informally and join in the festivities.
Wilder, pursued by bailiffs, has fled London and is on his way to his uncle's house, driven by debt to comply with Squire Bantam's matrimonial plans for his daughter.
Dorothy and Lydia, their insistence on permanent spinsterhood shaken by the attractions of Wilder and Sherwood, give the two men rings, making them promise never to part with them.
The house is soon roused by the cries; but when the guests reappear they find that the robbers have taken none of Bantam's money, but have, it seems, robbed the "duke" of a large amount (coincidentally equalling the sum of Wilder's debts).
The men have repented of their temporary infatuations of the previous night and have sent letters to Dorothy and Lydia affirming that they remain devoted to Dorcas and Abigail.
The Pall Mall Gazette said, "The story is curiously devoid of any interest, the dialogue is of the weakest, the lyrics have no point.... Mr Cellier's music is worthy a better fate.
I fancy that Herr Meyer Lutz must have received instructions not to indulge in any of his old frivolous ways, but to conduct the music gravely and sedately – which he did.
[17][6] Bernard Shaw, seeing the piece well into its long run, wrote of his pity for the cast: "Here are several young persons doomed to spend the flower of their years in mechanically repeating the silliest libretto in modern theatrical literature, set to music which, pretty as it is, must pall somewhat on the seven hundred and eighty-eighth performance....
The former has provided a disjointed and uninteresting book and the latter a score which, although elegant, varied, and full of colour, consists almost entirely of concerted pieces, notwithstanding that there are some excellent singers in the cast.... As a desperate expedient in construction we have seen few situations to equal that at the close of the second act of Dorothy.
A climax to this scene, however, is needed, and Mr. Stephenson finds it in the advent of a troop of scarlet clad huntsmen, with whom the ladies, forgetful of their attire, go off to the chase—an incident that supplies the composer with opportunity for a fine hunting chorus.
To analyse it or criticize it would be to question the beauty of the ladies with whom we were then in love.... And the pleasantest feeling of all is the conviction that Dorothy completely deserves the admiration we lavished on it.
"[4] In 2019, Victorian Opera Northwest released the first professional recording of the piece, conducted by Richard Bonynge with Majella Cullagh, Lucy Vallis, Stephanie Maitland, Matt Mears and the Royal Northern College of Music.