[Speech of John Gilbert at a banquet given by the Lotos Club in
recognition of the fiftieth anniversary of his first appearance on the
stage, New York City, November 30, 1878. The chairman of the dinner
was Whitelaw Reid, President of the Lotos.]
"CÆSAR, WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE SALUTE YOU." Such the
gladiator's cry in the arena standing face to face with death. There is
a certain appositeness in the words I have just uttered that probably
may correspond to my position. Understand me, I do not mean to die
theatrically at present. [Laughter.] But when a man has arrived at my
age, he can scarcely look forward to very many years of professional
exertion. When my old friend, John Brougham [Mr. Brougham:--"I am not
going to die just yet."] [laughter], announced to me the honor that the
Lotos Club proffered me, I was flattered and complimented. But I said:
"John, you know I am no speechmaker." He replied, "Say anything."
"Anything," I said, "anything won't do." "Then," said he, "repeat the
first speech of Sir Peter Teazle, 'When an old bachelor marries a young
wife, what is he to expect?'" [Laughter.] Well, I think I can paraphrase
that and say, "When a young man enters the theatrical profession, what
is he to expect?" Well, he may expect a good many things that are never
realized. However, suffice it to say that fifty years ago I made my
debut as an actor in my native city of Boston. I commenced in the
first-class character of Jaffier in Otway's charming tragedy of "Venice
Preserved." The public said it was a success, and I thought it was.
[Laughter.] The manager evidently thought it was, too, for he let me
repeat the character. Well, I suppose it was a success for a young man
with such aspirations as I had. There might have been some inspiration
about it--at least there ought to have been--for the lady who personated
Belvidera was Mrs. Duff, a lovely woman and the most exquisite tragic
actress that I ever saw from that period to the present.
After this, I acted two or three parts, Mortimer, Shylock, and some of
those little, trifling characters [laughter], with comparative success.
But shortly after, and wisely, I went into the ranks to study my
profession--not to commence at the top and go to the bottom
[laughter]--but to begin at the bottom and go to the top, if possible.
As a young man, I sought for pastures fresh and new. I went to the South
and West, my ambition still being, as is that of all youthful aspirants
for dramatic honors, for tragedy. At last I went to a theatre, and to my
great disgust and indignation I was cast for an old man--at the age of
nineteen. [Laughter.] However, I must do it. There was no alternative
and I did it. I received applause. I played a few more old men
[laughter]; I found at last that it was my point, my forte, and I
followed it up and after this long lapse of years, I still continue in
that department. I went to England and was received with kindness and
cordiality and, returning to my own country in 1862, I was invited to
join Wallack's Theatre by the father of my dear friend here [alluding to
Mr. Lester Wallack], his father whom I am proud to acknowledge as a
friend of mine nearly fifty years ago, and I am also proud to say my
dramatic master. [Applause.] I need not tell you that since that time I
have been under the direction of his son. What my career has been up to
the present time you all know. It requires no comment from me. I am no
longer a young man, but I do not think I am an old man. [Applause and
laughter.] I owe this to a good constitution and moderately prudent
life. [Shouts of laughter.] I may say with Shakespeare's Adam, that
"In my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly."
Will you permit me, gentlemen, to thank you for the very high honor you
have conferred upon me this evening and allow me to drink the health and
prosperity and happiness of the Lotos Club? [Cheers.]