It's very easy to forget how good a writer Gilbert was. The way he wrote song lyrics that are so good they demand to be listened to.
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache and repose is taboo'd by anxiety,
I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in, without impropriety;
For your brain is on fire--the bedclothes conspire of usual slumber to plunder you:
First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes, then your sheet slips demurely from under you....
The way he created his own fantastic worlds that we the audience can enter and become engrossed in. The way he sneaks his philosophy of life into our brains and leaves us convinced of the absurdity, the irredeemable and enjoyable absurdity, of life. He uses words with a clarity of argument that is impossible to misunderstand--and for that reason he is deeply misunderstood. The key is that he meant it all.
When I was a lad I served a term
As office boy to an attorney's firm;
I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor
And I poished up the handle on the big front door....
The simple, silly images that he puts into our heads! ...
People still don't like G&S; they ignore the operas and they think Gilbert should be forgotten. His works are so ingrained in the national culture that they can be set to one side, it seems. But of course they can't.
My brain feels weary and inarticulate; I can't express what I mean fully. But I know that listening to Gilbert is like looking at a piece of exquisite cut glass. It's clear, clearer than you have ever seen anything in your life. He saw things logically, a terrifying thing. But he made this clarity of thought hilarious.
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