nd the
retinue, Monostatos, and the Queen sank below, and in their stead
Sarastro, Pamina, and Tamino appeared with all the priests, and the
storm gave way to a fine day.

Immediately after that, nothing at all happened.

SIR ARTHUR SULLIVAN

Sir Arthur Sullivan was a man of many musical moods and varied
performances, yet his surest fame, at present, rests upon his comic
operas.

Perhaps this is because he and his workfellow, Gilbert, were pioneers
in making a totally new kind of comic opera. "Pinafore" may not be the
best of these works, "Mikado" may be better; but "Pinafore" was the
first of the satires upon certain institutions, social and political,
which delighted the English-speaking world.

Music and words never have seemed better wedded than in the comic
operas of Gilbert and Sullivan. The music is always graceful,
gracious, piquant, and gaily fascinating. The story has no purpose but
that of carrying some satirical idea, and the satire is never bitter,
always playful.

Sullivan's versatility was remarkable, his work ranging from "grave to
gay, from lively to severe," and his was a genius that developed in
his extreme youth. Many anecdotes are told of this brilliant composer,
and all of them seem to illustrate a practical and resourceful mind,
while they show little of the eccentricity that is supposed to belong
to genius. It was Sir Arthur Sullivan who first popularized Schumann
in England. Potter, head of the Royal Academy in London in 1861, had
known Beethoven well, and had never been converted to a love of music
less great than his--nor was his taste very catholic--and he
continually regretted Sullivan's championship of Schumann's music.
But one day Sullivan, suspecting the academician didn't know what he
was talking about, asked him point-blank if he had ever heard any of
the music he so strongly condemned. Potter admitted that he hadn't.
Whereupon Sullivan said, "Then play some of Schumann with me, Mr.
Potter," and, having done so, Potter "blindly worshipped" Schumann
even after.

Frederick Crowest tells this story in his "Musicians' Wit, Humour, and
Anecdote":

"The late Sir Arthur Sullivan, in the struggling years of his career,
once showed great presence of mind, which saved the entire breakdown
of a performance of 'Faust.' In the midst of the church scene, the
wire connecting the pedal under Costa's foot with the metronome stick
at the organ, broke. Costa was the conductor. In the c