Gilbert's career, from the sixties to the nineties, maps out a journey from silly puns and coy sentiment to genuine wit and a relatively outspoken critique of the times. Admittedly, the realists tired of his topsy-turvy fantasy or, on occasion, joined the squeamish in condemning his characteristic brand of humour: ‘Sometimes … it is unpleasant to the point of repulsiveness.’ But particularly at the Savoy, where his satire was provokingly topical yet generalized and made still more palatable by Sullivan's music and his own impeccable stage pictures, even a well-bred Miss of fifteen or so, whose sensibilities had always to be soothed (much to Gilbert's annoyance), even that little maid might learn a lesson or two.

That the theatre had begun to interest the well-bred of all ages was due in no small measure to those colourful extravaganzas.