[Speech of Simeon Ford at a banquet given to Sir Henry Irving by the
Lotos Club, New York City, October 29, 1899. The President, Frank R.
Lawrence, occupied the chair.]
GENTLEMEN:--I cannot but envy you the intellectual treat in
which you are revelling, in being permitted to listen to the resistless
eloquence of both me and Sir Henry Irving. It is not often that two such
stars as me and Sir Henry will consent to twinkle in the same firmament.
But your gifted President can accomplish wonders. He is what Weber and
Fields[3] call a "hypnotister."
As the President has said, I am not one of the set speakers. I just blew
in here, and blew in my good money to attend this feast, like the rest
of the rank and file, and now I have to work my passage as well. I am
simply put in as a filler. The President, with his awe-inspiring,
chill-producing gavel, is the "wrapper," and I am the filler; and you,
who smoke, have observed ere this that a mighty fine wrapper is often
associated with a very rank filler.
If I had had about twenty minutes' warning I could have prepared a
eulogy on Sir Henry, setting forth his virtues as a man and an actor in
such a way that he never would have recognized himself, and with such
eloquence that Dr. Greer [David H. Greer] would have looked like thirty
cents. But I did not get the twenty minutes, so poor Sir Henry must
content himself with the few scant bouquets with which he has already
been bombarded.
A sober, able-bodied eulogizer with a good address and a boiled shirt
can get a pretty steady winter's job in this Club at board wages. I
have, in my poor, weak way, eulogized several distinguished men in this
historic room, all of whom I am happy to say, are now convalescent. I
eulogized Joe Choate and he got a job at the Court of St. James; I
eulogized Horace Porter, and he is now playing one night stands at the
Moulin Rouge; Dr. Depew, and he not only got sent to Washington, but got
a raise of wages at the Grand Central Depot; yet when I saw him the next
day and delicately intimated that I was yearning to view the scenic
beauty of his great four track system, his reception reminded me of the
lines of Longfellow, beginning--
"Try not the pass, the old man said
Dark lowers the tempest overhead."
and so, instead of resting that night on a beautiful Wagner
hair-mattress, I had to be content with "excelsior."
The only man who really appreciated my efforts was dear old Joe
Jefferson. When I gave him to understand that I was anxious to see him
in one of his matchless characterizations, he inquired if I had a family
that shared my anxiety, and when informed that I had, he generously
tendered all hands a pass to the family circle. The Lord loves a
cheerful giver, but the Lord help any one who strikes Joe for a free
pass.
I can understand that the life of an actor must be a trying one, and
success difficult to achieve, and it must be a source of great
gratification to Sir Henry to feel that he has done so much to elevate
the stage as well as the price of admission. But he deserves success,
and the last time I gave up three dollars to behold him, and afterwards,
with a lot of enthusiasts, took his horses from his carriage and dragged
him in triumph two miles to his hotel, I really felt that I had had a
run for my money.
But if, Sir Henry, in gratitude for this beautiful tribute which I have
just paid you, you should feel tempted to reciprocate by taking my
horses from my carriage and dragging me in triumph through the streets,
I beg that you will restrain yourself for two reasons. The first reason
is--I have no horses; the second is--I have no carriage.
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