For twenty-five years he never saw one of his own plays, not caring to sit in front; but once, at a watering-place in the Fatherland where The Mikado was being given, some friends persuaded him to see it in German.
“I know what rubbish these comic operas are, and I should feel ashamed to sit and hear them and know they were mine,” he modestly remarked.
Nevertheless he went, and was rather amused, feeling no responsibility on his shoulders, and afterwards saw The Mikado in England at a revival towards the end of the nineties. He once told me a rather amusing little story about The Mikado. A gentleman who had been many years in the English Legation at Yokohama, attended some of the rehearsals, and was most useful in giving hints as to positions and manners in Japan. Mr. Gilbert wanted some effective music for the entrance of the Mikado—nothing Mr. Arthur Sullivan suggested suited—so turning to the gentleman he said:
“Can’t you hum the national Japanese anthem?”
“Oh yes,” he said cheerily. And he did.
“Capital—it’ll just do.”
Mr. Sullivan—for he was not then Sir Arthur—made notes, wrote it up, and the thing proved a great success. Some time afterwards a furious letter came from a Japanese, saying an insult had been offered the Mikado of Japan, the air to which that illustrious prince entered the scene instead of being royal was a music hall tune! Whether this is so or not remains a mystery, anyway it is a delightful melody, and most successful to this day.
Mr. Gilbert has been a great traveller—for many years he wintered abroad in India, Japan, Burmah, Egypt, or Greece, and at one time he was the enthusiastic owner of a yacht; but this amusement he has given up because so few of his friends were good sailors, and so he has taken to motoring instead.
Croquet-playing and motoring are the chief amusements of this “retired humourist,” as a local cab-driver once described the Squire of Grim’s Dyke.