This burlesque opened at the Opera Comique in London on 31 January 1877 before transferring to the Gaiety Theatre,[1][2] running for a total of 117 performances.[3]John Hollingshead managed the Gaiety from 1868 to 1886 as a venue for variety, continental operetta, light comedy, and numerous musical burlesques composed or arranged by the theatre's music director, Meyer Lutz. Hollingshead called himself a "licensed dealer in legs, short skirts, French adaptations, Shakespeare, taste and musical glasses."[4]Nellie Farren, as the theatre's "principal boy", starred at the Gaiety for over 20 years, and both Edward O'Connor Terry and Kate Vaughan were regulars.[5]
The piece had a revival at the Gaiety in May 1884[6] with Farren and Terry reprising their roles as Thaddeus and Devilshoof.[7]
Even if you happen not to have seen the Bohemian G-yurl, you will surely have heard by this time a great deal of the humour of Mr. Terry and the dancing of Mr. Royce in this production. You therefore proceed to the Opera Comique, and having duly admired the Polish costumes and done your best to catch the words of the songs, you wait patiently until hard on the eleventh hour, and wonder when all this tremendous merriment so generally spoken of is going to begin. The drollery of Mr. Terry may not perhaps strike you as so very remarkable after all – that is to say, for Mr. Terry; you will laugh at his scene with the performing dogs if you chance not to have seen something very similar before in many previous burlesques, but that is about the extent of the fun which even Mr. Terry can extract from his part. Mr. Royce dances with his usual buoyancy, and twirls as he is wont to twirl, but still you are not happy. You may, perhaps, think that some little of the humour accredited wholesale to Mr. Terry lurks in the round, astonished eyes, and is to be found in the playful ways of Miss Nelly Farren, and that Miss Kate Vaughan, with her pliant figure and resplendent attire, is responsible for much of the attractive power of Mr. Royce's very popular dancing; but still you will remember the purpose for which language has been said to have been given, and, when your club friends go night after night to see The Bohemian G-yurl, and expatiate glowingly on the delicious humour of Mr. Terry and the marvellous dancing of Mr. Royce, you will doubtless be able to read aright, with one eye closed even, the veiled and vicarious homage.[8]
However, the critic of Judy was rather more appreciative, writing:
The Bohemian G-yurl, at the Opera Comique, is certainly as funny a thing as I have seen. Terry and Royce made me roar again, and with the aid of Misses Farren, Vaughan and West, they give you one of the liveliest evenings imaginable. If you want to laugh, go and see Byron's last burlesque.[9]
