A knight to remember.

One of his generation's most acclaimed actors, Sir John Gielgud also achieved a long and happy gay life

As an actor and as a gay man, Sir John Gielgud--who died on May 21 at age 96--was defined by his elegant voice. Throughout his 70-odd-year career, the great British actor reeled in audiences with his silky tones and superb diction, whether he was performing Shakespeare on the stage of London's Old Vic or hilariously upbraiding Dudley Moore in the hit comedy film Arthur (for which Gielgud's witheringly witty performance netted him a 1981 Best Supporting Actor Academy Award).

Compared to other public figures of his generation, he was relatively direct about his sexuality. As he explained in The Advocate in 1977, "I think people are terrified by the notion of the public knowing they are queer.... I try to be honest; I hate telling lies, but the truth is that I don't think my life of interest--my private life, that is--to anyone but myself." Such reticence did not prevent him from taking political action. In 1978 he added his signature to an ad in Time magazine supporting gay rights in the United States and attacking Anita Bryant and President Carter for their respective positions on the issue.

Offstage Gielgud was, by all appearances, a happily married man. According to his obituary in Britain's Daily Telegraph, the legendary actor "had recently grown weaker since the death last year of his companion of many years, Martin Hensler." Gielgud died at home, at the ornate 17th-century Buckinghamshire estate where he and Hensler had lived together for more than two decades. Neighbors in and around the nearby village of Wotton Underwood spoke fondly of the two, who would often be seen "sitting on chairs on a mound, silently looking out at the view," according to the Telegraph.

"They seemed a wonderful couple," one villager told the newspaper. "They would walk in the fields with their three Tibetan terriers." Another neighbor, the Telegraph reported, remembered that "often, out of the blue, an exotic plant would appear on her porch. There would be no note, but she knew that it was a gift from Sir John."

The world, of course, saw a more formidable man. Along with Sir Laurence Olivier and Sir Ralph Richardson, Gielgud was considered one of the three finest English theatrical actors of his generation. In a New York Times obituary, critic Mel Gussow observed that "many contemporary critics considered him to be the greatest classical actor of their time. Where Olivier was known for his physical daring and Richardson had a gift for eccentric characterization, it was Sir John who elevated language." (That trait didn't always work in Gielgud's favor: Critic Kenneth Tynan once dismissed him as "the finest actor on earth from the neck up.")

Given his knack for playing imperious characters, Gielgud himself was a tireless, down-to-earth working actor who first played Romeo in 1924 (at age 19) and last appeared on film in Elizabeth in 1998. (This May Gielgud was filming again: He had retreated to his country home for a weekend break when he collapsed and died in the arms of his chauffeur.) In between came countless film, television, and, especially, theater roles, from Shakespeare and Wilde and Chekhov to Pinter and Albee and Beckett. "If I can manage to go on working," he told The New York Times in 1993, "it's much more interesting."

Said to be a charming, ebullient man--"a kind of brilliant butterfly," in the words of his close friend and frequent costar Richardson--Gielgud took his sister with him to Buckingham Palace when he was knighted in 1953. Like his famous theatrical forebears, the actresses Kate and Ellen Terry, Gielgud cried easily: The Gielguds and the Terrys, he quipped, shared "weak lachrymal glands."

His famous tear ducts turned up in Gielgud's Advocate interview as well. Although he was "circumspect" and "downright wistful" about discussing gay issues in relation to his own life, Gielgud couldn't resist slipping in a good joke. "I did make an unfortunate slip once," he said, in a burst of laughter. "I was saying that I cried very easily, whenever I see a parade or a queen passing."

For more on Paul Barrel, John Gielgud, and their work, including Advocate stories on both men, visit www.advocate.com