THE POETRY OF W. S. GILBERT

Dominion, Volume 8, Issue 2368, 26 January 1915, Page 7

THE POETRY OF W. S. GILBERT

OBSCURED BT HIS BRILLIANT HUMOUR. (By "Sylvius.") Tho late Sir W. S. Gilbert, whose alliance with the late Sir Arthur Sullivan was the happiest combination of talent ever known to the lyrio world, and whose works we are to hear once more during the coming week, was so radiant a humorist that the joy of being tiokled by such clean, refined, and pungent witticisms has tended to obscure his talent as a lyric poet. Most people possess the belief that these gifted Englishmen depended on eaoh other to suoh an extent that they never did notably good work apart, basing that belief on the comio operas that were written or composed with other part-ners-after the historic split over the new carpet for the foyer of- the Savoy Theatre. It was rather singular that in neither case did they succeed to contribute towards a work that was anything like the meanest of the GilbertSullivan successes, but it is nonsense to suppose that they did not do good work separately, Gilbert wrote lots of successful plays before he fell in with Sullivan, notably "Pygmalion and Galatea," "Broken Hearts, "Dan'l Druce," "Engaged," "The Wicked World," "The For-, tune Hunter" (whioh bears no resemblance to the comedy of that name played here by Mr. Fred Niblo last year), and "Foggerty'e Fairy." • Like Sullivan, Gilbert had a habit of plagiarising himself, and many of the' jokes that are used in the operas are served up afresh from the plays he had previously written. One example: In "Foggerty's Fairy" Walkinshaw and Foggerty love the same maiden, but the former has had to forfeit, as he has had 'a previous affair of the heart. Imagine then Walkinshow, still a friend of the family, getting used to Foggerty and Jenny love-making.

Jenny: "Wouldn't you rather retire, Mr. Walkinshaw? It must Jam yon to see us like this." Walkinshaw: "No; I must learn to bear it. Go on—but do it by degrees. Put your arm round her waist, Poggerty. There—let me get used to that first." • The fame joke theme is used in "The Mikado," in a scene between Yum-Yum, Nanki-Poo, and Koko. Nanki-Poo: "I'm afraid we're distressing you." "Never mind, I must get used to it. Only please do it by degrees. by putting your orm round her waist. There—let me get used to that first." Sullivan was just as guilty a plagiarist. Not only did he derive inspiration from the works of the old masters, but he repeated himself in the quaintest possible manner. Part of the air of the chorus, "Let us gaily tread a measure," in . 'The Pirates of Penzance" is sung as a solo by Ko-Ko 'in "The Mikado, and there are lots of other .instances of -repetition— obvious, intentional repetition, of course. But it is of the poetry of Gilbert that I set out to draw attention to. Take, for example, the opening chorus of the opening opera of the season, "The Gondoliers-:— "List and learn, ye dainty Toses, Eoses white and roses red, Why we bind you into posies Ere your morning bloom has fled. By a Jaw of maiden's making, Accents of a' heart that's breaking, Even though that heart be breaking, Should by maiden be unsaid. ' Though they love with love exceeding, They must seem to be unheeding— Go,iye then and do their pleading, Hoses white and roses red." What could so prettily voice the feelings of the stricken contadine, who are all in love with either Marco or Giuseppe Palmieri ? The lyric flame burns very brightly right through "The Gondoliers/' "When a Merry Mniden Marries" is charming poetry from beginning to end, and 60-is the succeeding solo, "Kind sir, tou cannot have the heart," sung by Gianetta. The purest lyrical spirit is also revealed in several places iu "The Yeoman of the Guard," which is perhaps the biggest and most serious work of all the _ comio operas. Indeed, it is almost entitled to a greater dignity than mere comic opera, for in the end the poor heart-broken jester Jack Point beoomes a tragedian, and brings more tears to the eyes than dimples to the Bides of the month. The opera opens with a poem, in which the pangs of modest love-sick maidenhood are-delightfully expressed:— "When maiden loves, she sits and sighs, She wanders to and fro. Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes, And to all questions she replies, With sad r fleigho!' 'Tis but a little word—"heigho!" So soft 'tis soarcely heard—'heiffhol l An idle breath, yet life and' death May hang upon a maid's 'heighol' " • The leading contralto in the GilbertSullivan operas is always singled out for particularly fine lyrics. Perhaps there is nothing finer in the whole string than Katisha's lament in the second act' of "The Mikado":— "Alone, and vet alive! Oh sepulohrel My soul is 6tlll my body's prisoner ! Remote the peace that death alone can ffivo— My doom to wait! My punishment to live! Hearts do not break, They sting and ache For old love's sake, But do not die! Though with each breath They wait for death Aa witnesseth The living I!" What oould be more perfectly fitting, too, than the poetry of lolanthe'e supplication to the Lord Chancellor? This is the second verse:— "He dies! If fondly laid aside in Bome old cabinet, . Memorials of thy long dead bride lie, deawy cherished yetj Then let her hallowed bridal dress—her little dainty gloves— Her withered flowers—her faded tresa— Plead for my boy—he loves!" Instance after instenoe oould be quoted of the delicate poetical flame that burned in the breast of England's arch jester, now passed away, but there is one little gem in the way of verse that has always made a strong appeal to the writer. It is the sad serio-oomio conclusion that Princess Ida "comes to on the fall of Castle Adamant—the realisation that the world cannot do without the sterner sex, nor can she. She sings: "I built upon a rock: | Bnt ere destruction s hand Dealt equal lot fx> court and cot, My rock had turned to sand I Ah, faithless rock, - My simple faith to mockl "I leant upon an oak; But in the hour of need • Alack-a-day my trusted staj Was but a bruised reed! Ah. trait'rous oak. Thy worthlessness to cloak! "I drew a sword of steel; But when to home and hearth Tho battle's breath bore fire and death, My sword was but a lath! Ah, coward steol, That fear can unanneal!" _ The revival of these operas in lia and New Zealand is the result of a reaction that set in both in England and America in their favour about a couple of years ago, after tho world has grown a little tired pf the exotic Viennese opera, which had its genesis in Lehar's "Merry Widow." Innate refinement is embodied in the Gilbert-Sullivan operas, yet no wittier works are known to the world. Never once did the pair conceive a "tights" part for a female, whioh fact, together with other qualities, has always made them favoured with amateurs wherever the English tongue is spoken.