"Nobody has written anything more tender than he, nobody anything sublimer than he. Whether it is the song of the deep, or the warble of the mated bird, nobody has excelled Wagner; he has expressed all that the human heart is capable of appreciating. And now, gentlemen, having troubled you long enough, and saying long live Anton Seidl, I bid you good-night."
LOTOS CLUB DINNER IN HONOR OF REAR ADMIRAL SCHLEY.
New York, November 26, 1898.
* The Lotos Club did honor to Rear Admiral Winfield Scott
Schley, and incidentally, to the United States, at its
clubhouse in Fifth Avenue last night. All day long the
square, blue pennant, blazoned with the two stars of a Rear
Admiral, snapped in the wind, signifying to all who saw it
that the Lotos Clubhouse was for the time being the flagship
of the erstwhile Flying Squadron.
Within the home of the club were gathered men who like the
guest of the evening were prominent in the war with Spain,
The navy was represented by Capt. Charles D. Sigs-Dee, Capt.
A. T. Mahan and Captain Goodrich. From the army there was
Brig. Gen. W F. Randolph, and from civil life many men
prominent in the business, professional and social life of
the city. The one impulse that led these men to brave the
storm was their desire to pay their respects to one of the
men who had done so much to win laurels for the American
arms.
The parlors and dining rooms of the clubhouse wore thrown
into one in order to accommodate the three hundred men
present fit the dinner. Smilax covered the walls, save hero
and there where the American flag was draped in graceful
folds. From the archway under which the table of honor was
spread, hung a large National ensign and a Rear Admiral's
pennant.
The menu was unique. Etched on a cream-tinted paper appeared
an open nook, and on the tops of the pages was inscribed,
"Logge of the Goode Ship Lotos." "Dinner to Rear Admiral
Winfield Scott Schley, given in the cabin of ye Shippe, Nov.
26, l898, Lat. 40 degrees 42 minutes 43 seconds north;
longitude, 74 degrees 3 seconds west."
On each side of the menu was stretched a string of signal
flags, giving the orders made famous by Admiral Schley in
the naval engagement of July 3, 1898. On the second page of
the menu was a fine etching of the Brooklyn, Admiral
Schley's flagship. The souvenir menu was inclosed in blue
paper, upon which were two white stars, the whole
representing Rear Admiral Schley's pennant.
MR.PRESIDENT, Gentlemen of the Club—Boys: I congratulate all of you and I congratulate myself, and I will tell you why. In the first place, we were well born, and we were all born rich, all of us. We belong to a great race. That is something; that is having a start, to feel that in your veins flows heroic blood, blood that has accomplished great things and has planted the flag of victory on the field of war. It is a great thing to belong to a great race.
I congratulate you and myself on another thing; we were born in a great nation, and you can't be much of a man without having a nation behind you, with you; Just think about it! What would Shakespeare have been, if he had been born in Labrador? I used to know an old lawyer in southern Illinois, a smart old chap, who mourned his unfortunate surroundings. He lived in Pinkneyville, and occasionally drank a little too freely of Illinois wine; and when in his cups he sometimes grew philosophic and egotistic. He said one day, "Boys, I have got more brains than you have, I have, but I have never had a chance. I want you just to think of it. What would Daniel Webster have been, by God, if he had settled in Pinkneyville?"
So I congratulate you all that you were born in a great nation, born rich; and why do I say rich? Because you fell heir to a great, expressive, flexible language; that is one thing. What could a man do who speaks a poor language, a language of a few words that you could almost count on your fingers? What could he do? You were born heirs to a great literature, the greatest in the world—in all the world. All the literature of Greece and Rome would not make one act of "Hamlet." All the literature of the ancient world added to all of the modern world, except England, would not equal the literature that we have. We were born to it, heirs to that vast intellectual possession.
So I say you were all born rich, all. And then you were very fortunate in being born in this country, where people have some rights, not as many as they should have, not as many as they would have if it were not for the preachers, may be, but where we have some; and no man yet was ever great unless a great drama was being played on some great stage and he got a part. Nature deals you a hand, and all she asks is for you to have the sense to play it. If no hand is dealt to you, you win no money. You must have the opportunity, must be on the stage, and some great drama must be there. Take it in our own country. The Revolutionary war was a drama, and a few great actors appeared; the War of 1812 was another, and a few appeared; the Civil war another. Where would have been the heroes whose brows we have crowned with laurel had there been no Civil war? What would have become of Lincoln, a lawyer in a country town? What would have become of Grant? He would have been covered with the mantle of absolute obscurity, tucked in at all the edges, his name never heard of by any human being not related to him.