THE GREAT GILBERT

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22628, 20 July 1935, Page 16

THE GREAT GILBERT

WORK WITH SULLIVAN I THEIR WRITING METHODS BOTH MEN DISSATISFIED. " I fancy that posterity will know as little of me as I shall of posterity,” said W. S. Gilbert in his old age. When ho died in 1911, at the age of 74 (says a writer in the Melbourne Age), he left a fortune of £IIO,OOO, derived chiefly from the famous operas, but ho was to some extent a disappointed man. He believed that he could have done much better work in "straight" plays, but as the public preferred the "light frippery and amusing nonsense” of the comic he had eacrified his ambitions as a serious dramatist in the interests of the box office. Sullivan believed that his forte was grand opera, and that he was wasting his talents in collaborating with Gilbert. This was also the opinion of the lovers of serious music whom he numbered among his friends, and of the fashionable world in which he moved. When he conducted a command performance of his opera “ The Golden Legend ” at the Albert Hall, Queen Victoria earned the gratitude of many lovers of music by telling him that he ought to write a grand opera. “ You would do it so well,” said lier Majesty. The collaboration of Gilbert and Sullivan was remarkable from many aspects, and not the least remarkable was that they had very little in common. There was never any real friendship between them, and they seldom met except for the purpose of collaboration. Their long association included several periods of strained relationship, as well as the famous quarrel over new carpets for the Savoy Theatre, which was ventilated in court. Moreover, Gilbert knew nothing about music. He used to say that he knew only two tunes —one wag “ God Save the Queen ” and the other wasn’t. VERY DIFFERENT. Many books have been written about Gilbert and Sullivan, including four biographies of Sullivan and two of Gilbert: but ae a study of their personalities and their collaboration there is nothing better than Mr Hesketh Pearson’s "Gilbert and Sullivan.” "They were radically dissimilar in upbringing, outlook, and temperament; their characteristics were antipathetic and complementary,” writes Mr Pearson. “ Friendship between them was out of the question from the start.” Gilbert was not invited to Sullivan’s birthday parties, where the guests sometimes included the Prince of Wales (subsequently King Edward VII), the Duke of Edinburgh, and members of the peerage. Sullivan was never present at the social gatherings at Gilbert’s house. " Few men can have left such widely different impressions on their contemporaries as Gilbert did on his,” states Mr Pearson. “ Some people, especially women, thought him pleasant, simple, kindly, affectionate. Others, mostly men, found him overbearing, intolerant, conceited, and offensive. ... No other English writer has appeared in the law courts as often as Gilbert, a full account of whose cases would fill a volume. Most of bis cases ended with a disagreement of the jury, or at least with little benefit to either side of the dispute, and Gilbert would complain of the judge’s partiality or of his counsel’s incompetence. Nothing made him so angry as when he was accused of short temper, and it never dawned on him that people could think him disagreeable, merely because he liked to have his own way.” At a dinner given in his honour on his seventieth birthday by the O.P. Club he evoked uproarious laughter by the confession: "Everybody says I’m such a disagreeable man; and 1 can’t think why.” ATTACK ON ACTORS.

When in ]BB9 his play “The Fortune Hunter,” which had been declined by several London managers of theatres, was produced at Edinburgh by Miss Fortesque, who had been associated with Gilbert and Sullivan operas, he went to Edinburgh to see it, aud while there he gave an interview to a Scottish paper which angered theatrical critics, leading actors, and fellow-dram-atists. He referred to Mr Sydney Grundy, a well-known playwright, as “ a mere adapter,” and said that the poetic drama was dead, because no English actor knew how to sneak blank verse. All of them mouthed the lines like Eton schoolboy* on speech days. The leading

English actors at the time were Henry Irvine, Beerbohm Tree, John Hare, Charles Wyndham, and George Alexander. The theatrical paper Era, in commenting on the interview, said: "Mr Gilberts abnormal self-esteem has, with advancing years,_ developed into a malady. In his own estimation he is a kind of Grand Lama or Sacred • Elephant of dramatic literature. The mildest criticism of his work, the most gentle disapproval of one of his plays, is a crime of lese-roajeste, for which, if it were in hia power, he would punish the culprit severely.” The Era also spoke of "Gilbert the Great,” of the succession of quarrels that had taken place to vindicate “the Gilbert theory of the universe,” and concluded: “His good nature has become obscured by the abnormal protuberance of his self-esteem. That this —what’s, his name? —Grundy should have written successful original works while he, the great Gilbert, has met with failure after failure in modern drama, is preposterous, and not to be borne.” Gilbert brought an action for libel against the Era, and claimed £IOOO damages. The newspapers gave, a great deal of space to the case. Gilbert, in the witness box, scored heavily when crossexamined by defendant’s counsel, Sir Edward Carson. But the jury disagreed. EARLY YEARS. Gilbert wan the son of a naval surgeon, who wrote a number of plays, poems, biographies, and three-volume novels. After leaving King’s College he spent four unhappy years as a clerk in the public service. He studied law, and after being called to the Bar practised for four years, his total earnings for that period being £75. He became a member of the staff of Fun, founded by H. J. Byron as a rival to Punch. Byron was the author of a famous comedy, “ Our Boys,” and of other plays. By the time Gilbert was 24 years old he had written 15 plays, none of which wds produced. Not till six years later did he see one of his plays on the stage. This was a piece called “ Dulcamara,” which he had written in a few days to the order of Tom Robertson, a popular actor. The question of payment to the author was not discussed until after the play had been produced. When asked by the manager of the theatre how much he expected, Gilbert, taking into account the fact that the play had been written in a few days, said, "Thirty pounds.” The manager wrote out a cheque for that amount, and. after obtaining a receipt, he said, “Take a bit of advice from an old stager who knows what he is talking about; never sell so good a piece as this for £3O again.” Gilbert profited by the advice, and became a keen business man in looking after his own interests. He achieved further success as a playwright, and four years after “ Dulcamara ” was produced he was introduced to Sullivan, whose music for Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” had made a sensation. Five years after these two men met, the first of their joint operas, “ Trial by Jury,” was produced at the Royalty Theatre, London. Gilbert was then 38 years old and Sullivan 32. LIVED IN POVERTY.

Sullivan’s early years were spent in an atmosphere of poverty. His father, an Irishman, was earning a guinea a week playing the clarinet in the orchestra at the Surrey Theatre, London, when he married a penniless girl ot Italian origin, who, according to report, was the daughter of an organ grinder. Arthur Sullivan was the second son of this marriage, and at an early age he displayed remarkable aptitude for music. His father a position improved slightly when he was appointed bandmaster at the Royal Military College, and Arthur, whose good looks, good manners, and pleasing voice as a singer charmed people became a chorister at Chapel Royal. He won the Mendelssohn scholarship at the age of 14, and spent three years at the Royal Academy p£ Music. Because he was the most promising pupil at the academy the Mendelssohn committee sent him to the Leipzig Conservatoire, where he studied for 2J years, and was beloved by the professors. “ His air of deference in the presence of seniors and social superiors was, in view of his obvious accomplishments, one of bis most attractive assets, and it was certainly one of the most valuable, writes Mr Pearson. “ People went out of their way to do him good turns, . . . With women his appeal was immediate, and often permanent. His oval, olive-tinted face his dark luminous eyes, his large sensuous mouth, and the generous crop of black curly hair which overhung his low forehead no doubt added to the attraction ... He was born under a lucky star for not only was he admired and helped by others at every stage of his career, but the help always arrived at the very moment when he needed it.” It was while he was in Leipzig that he wrote the music to “The Tempest.’ On his return to England it was performed

at the Crystal Palace, and the next morning the composer awoke to find himself famous. THE COLLABORATION. Gilbert was the dominant partner in his collaboration with Sullivan, and did the major share of the work. He wrote the libretti and produced the operas. “Gilbert had a clearer conception of what the public wanted than Sullivan; he led, and Sullivan followed,” states Mr Pearson. “ The secret of success is to keep well within the understanding of the. least intelligent section of the audience,” said Gilbert. This did not call for a very high order of merit on the patt of the author, though it required a good deal of practical skill. He worked with the utmost care, often between 11 at night and three or four in the morning, because “ then you have absolutp peace—the postman has done his worst, and no one can interrupt you unless it be a burglar.” He usually began by writing out the story of the piece about 12 times, until he had got it right. He then read it to Sullivan, who sometimes made suggestions which were duly incorporated in the final version. After that he commenced the libretto, writing only the baldest dialogue, and leaving out both songs and jokes. This merely carried on the action in the fewest possible words. Later ; he wrote gongs for the first act, which were sent to Sullivan, who set them to music while Gilbert was writing the songs for the second act. The songs completed, Gilbert returned to the dialogue, elaborated and polished the > crude suggestions in the first draft and filled it out with the necessary number of jokes.” WORK AS PRODUCER. Gilbert’s vitality as a producer was phenomenal. Ho supervised everything—scenery, costumes, stage management, chorus, lighting—nothing escaped hia notice. His strictness at rehearsals has become proverbial, and he certainly could play the martinet, but no producer since his time has been able to exercise half his patience. He would stand on the stage by the side of an actor or actress and repeat the words with appropriate action over and over again, without the least sign of despair or irritation, until he had achieved the exact intonation and gesture he wanted. He knew the limitations of his actors, and took care that the work he gave them to do should be well within their compass. He also knew that he could only get the best out of them by being on friendly terms with them. He believed that acting could not only be taught, but dictated, and it satisfied bis appetite for power to teach his actors, like children who did not know their alphabet. With those who took his teaching in good part and tried their hardest to follow it, his patience was inexhaustible, and his kindness never-failing. To one well-mean-ing girl who kept putting the accent on the wrong syllable of the word “ indubitably” he remarked that hers was a Parisian pronunciation, and though, of course. _ it would be understood by the stalls, it might not be clear to the gallery. He had a different method of dealing with those who resented his teaching and refused to follow it. To a girl who was evidently not trying to obey his instructions, he said, “Never mind, my dear, you cannot help it; it takes a lady to get it as I want it.” A number of examples of Gilbert’s wit, apart from the operas, has been preserved. “Actresses often paint, but they do not always draw " is one of the best of them. To an actress who was going to give a special performance at Brighton and declared that she would have to take her mother with her as chaperon, he remarked “Can’t you trust the old lady in town for one evening by herself? ” When reproved for keeping a Vehearsal waiting, he replied, "I have lost more time through being punctual than through anything else.” When it was announced that Arthur Bourchier was going to play Hamlet. Gilbert said, “At last we car settle whether Bacon or Shakespeare wrote the plays. Have both the coffins opened, and whichever has turned in his grave is the author.” Of an actor who ' was notorious at the Garrick Club for his boisterous laughter and extravagant manner, he said: “He is not quite a gentlemap. and he knows it. and tries to laugh it off."