between the solid qualities of our hereditary legislators and the irresponsible ecstasy of fairyland is one of the most surprising feats of musical imagination that even his career can furnish.  In ‘Princess Ida’ (1884), which is, so to speak, a burlesque of a burlesque, his task was easier.  ’Princess Ida’ contains some of his most brilliant excursions into the realm of parody—­parodies of grand opera, parodies of the traditional Handelian manner, parodies of sentimental love-making—­but it also contains some of the purest and most beautiful music he ever wrote.  Some of Sullivan’s melodies, indeed, would be more fitting on the lips of Tennyson’s romantic princess than on those of Mr. Gilbert’s burlesque “suffragette”.  ‘Princess Ida’ was not appreciated at its true value and still awaits its revenge, but in ‘The Mikado’ (1885) the two collaborators scored the greatest success of their career.  The freshness and novelty of its surroundings—­Japan had not then, so to speak, become the property of the man in the street—­counted for something in the triumph of ‘The Mikado,’ but it is unquestionably one of the very best of the series.  Mr. Gilbert never wrote wittier or more brilliant dialogue, and Sullivan never dazzled his admirers by more astonishing feats of musicianship.  ‘Ruddigore’ (1887) was less successful than any of its predecessors.  If the satire of ‘Princess Ida’ was just a shade above the heads of the Savoy audience, the satire of ‘Ruddigore’ was perhaps a shade below them.  ‘Ruddigore’ is a burlesque of transpontine melodrama, and a very good burlesque too; but the Savoy audience knew next to nothing about transpontine melodrama, and so the satire was missed and the piece fell flat.  It was a pity, because Sullivan’s music was in his happiest manner.  There may yet, however, be a future for ‘Ruddigore,’ ‘The Yeomen of the Guard’ (1888) opened fresh ground.  For the moment Mr. Gilbert turned his back upon topsy-turvydom and Sullivan approached the frontiers of grand opera.

‘The Yeomen of the Guard’ has a serious plot, and at times lingers on the threshold of tragedy.  Sullivan caught the altered spirit of his collaborator with perfect sympathy, and struck a note of romantic feeling unique in his career.  With ‘The Gondoliers’ (1889) the scene brightened again, and merriment reigned supreme once more.  Perhaps at times there was a suspicion of weariness in Mr. Gilbert’s wit, and some of Sullivan’s melodies had not all the old distinction of manner, but the piece was an incarnation of liveliness and gaiety, and its success rivalled the historic glories of ‘The Mikado.’  With ‘The Gondoliers’ came the first solution of continuity in the Gilbert and Sullivan partnership.  Differences arose; Mr. Gilbert retired from the councils of the Savoy Theatre, and Sullivan had to look out for a new collaborator.  He found one in Mr. Sydney Grundy, and their ‘Haddon Hall’ was produced in 1892.  In spite of charming music, reflecting very gracefully the old