Mr. Gilbert had no notes of any kind. He brought them with him, but never opened the volume, and yet he knew exactly how everything ought to be done. This was his first rehearsal with the company, who up till then had been in the stage manager’s hands and worked according to printed instructions. The scene was a very different affair after the mastermind had set the pawns in their right squares, and made the bishops and knights move according to his will. In two hours they had gone through the first act of Pinafore, and he clapped his hands and called for luncheon.
“It is just half-past one,” he said; “I am hungry, and I daresay you are hungry, so we will halt for half an hour. I shall be back by five minutes past two—that is five minutes’ grace, when”—bowing kindly—“I shall hope to see you again, ladies and gentlemen.”
We three lunched at the Savoy next door, and a few minutes before two he rose from the table, ere he had finished his coffee, and said he must go.
“You are in a hurry,” I laughingly said.
“Yes,” he replied, “I have made it a rule never to be late. The company know I shall be there, so the company will be in their places.”
A friend once congratulated him on his punctuality.
“Don’t,” he said; “I have lost more time by being punctual than by anything else.”
One thing in particular struck me as wonderful during the rehearsal. Half a dozen soldiers are supposed to come upon the stage, and at a certain point half a dozen untidily dressed men with guns in their hands marched in. Mr. Gilbert looked at them for a moment, and then he went up to one gallant warrior and said:
“Is that the way you hold your gun?”
“Yes, sir.”