THE greatest speaker of Shakespeare's prose and poetry the world has ever known trembled with guilt and shame as he said: "I'm so terribly sorry" to the policeman arresting him for homosexual soliciting at a gents' lavatory in Chelsea.

That was on the evening of October 21, 1953 when actor John Gielgud had already established himself as the greatest speaker of Shakespeare.

Until then his sexual preferences had been kept well hidden as he threw himself into becoming a theatrical legend from his first role as a sailor in a school production of HMS Pinafore in 1915 when he was 11 until the day he died at 96 just after Sunday lunch on May 21 last year.

His performances in the Bard's finest such as Hamlet, Othello, Romeo And Juliet and King Lear set the benchmark for a golden age of Shakes-peare which saw the blossoming of stars of the classical theatre with the likes of Laurence Olivier, Ralph Richardson, Peggy Ashcroft, Alec Guinness and Michael Redgrave.

He comes across as a work-alcoholic perfectionist always eager to learn and experiment with new-wave plays from writers and directors such as Harold Pinter and Lindsay Anderson. Until his death he was still anxious for phone calls offering him more work.

He was a self-effacing genius with a gift for nurturing upcoming stars such as Marlon Brando, Richard Burton, Alan Bates and Albert Finney.

He was engagingly unsure of just how much he was revered, even when he began making real money in cameo roles such as the Jeeves-like butler to Dudley Moore's rich wastrel, Arthur, for which he won his only Oscar.

Or when he agreed to advertise California wine making use of his full fruity tones to bank the sort of easy money that always eluded him despite a lifetime playing some of the theatre's greatest roles.

Speaking very rarely, obliquely and late in life about his homosexual shame of the 1953 affair he mocked himself for appearing in adverts with: "My real ambition was to do one for underwear with me saying 'at my time of life all is quiet on the Y-front'".

Morley skims over Olivier's long-standing jealousy of Gielgud's sparkling talent and much of Sir John's early personal life and has written a peon of praise for an actor he obviously, and justifiably, reveres.

That is why 'The Authorised Biography' in Morley's title ultimately leaves one asking after 457 pages: "Yes, Gielgud was great, but what was he really like?" despite, or possibly because of, the biographer having access to the great man's diaries and private letters.

Alas sweet prince, you are still a scintillating enigma to me.

Perhaps a less partisan biographer will reveal more of Gielgud the man.