Robert Coates (actor)

Robert Coates was born in Antigua in the West Indies, the only surviving child of a wealthy sugar planter, Alexander Coates, and his wife Dorothy.^[1] He was educated in England, and on returning to Antigua took part in amateur dramatics. When he inherited his father's estate and a large collection of diamonds in 1807, he moved to Bath, England, where he lived as a man of fashion.^[1] He eventually drew the attention of the manager of the Theatre Royal, Bath and had begun to appear in plays in 1809, though not as a professional actor.

Later^[2] he appeared in Romeo and Juliet in the part of Romeo – in a costume of his own design. The costume had a flowing, sky-blue cloak with sequins, red pantaloons, a vest of white muslin, a large cravat, and a plumed "opera hat," according to Captain Rees Howell Gronow – not to mention dozens of diamonds – which was hardly suitable for the part.^[3] The garments were too small for Coates and caused him to move stiffly, and at some point, the seat of his pants split open. The audience roared with laughter.

Despite this ridicule, Coates went on to tour the British Isles. If a theatre manager would hesitate to let him show his talents, he would bribe them. Managers, in turn, often called in the police in case things went seriously wrong.

Coates was convinced he was the best actor in business – or at least that is what he claimed. He frequently forgot his lines and invented new scenes and dialogue on the spot. He loved dramatic death scenes and would repeat them – or any other scenes he happened to take a fancy to – three to four times over.

Coates claimed that he wanted to improve the classics. At the end of his first appearance as Romeo he came back in with a crowbar and tried to pry open Capulet's tomb. In another of his antics he made the actress playing Juliet so embarrassed that she clung to a pillar and refused to leave the stage. Eventually no actress would agree to play the part with him.

The audience usually answered with angered catcalls, embarrassed jeering, and a large pelting of orange peels – and loads of laughter. His fellow actors would try to make him leave the stage. If Coates thought the audience was getting out of hand, he turned to them and answered in kind.

His fame spread and people would flock to see whether he really was as bad as they had heard. For some reason, Baron Ferdinand de Géramb became his foremost supporter. Even the Prince Regent (the future King George IV) would go to see him. In 1811, when he played the part of Lothario in The Fair Penitent in London's Haymarket Theatre, the theatre had to turn thousands of would-be spectators away. In another performance in Richmond, Surrey, several audience members had to be treated for excessive laughter.

Coates went on with his antics. Once, when he dropped a diamond buckle when he was going to exit the stage, he crawled around the stage looking for it. During his first performance of Romeo & Juliet, he pulled out his snuff box in the middle of a scene and offered some to the occupants of a box. Then, during Romeo's death scene, Coates carefully placed his hat on the ground for a pillow and used his dirty handkerchief to dust the stage before lying on it. Finally, at the invitation of the audience, he acted out Romeo's death twice—and was about to attempt a third before his Juliet came back to life and interrupted him.^[4] The amusement of the audience was enormous. There is some question as to whether Coates believed he was a great actor as he professed to, or if his performances were brilliant parody.

Outside the stage Coates tried to amaze the public with his taste in clothing. He wore furs even in hot weather. He went out in a custom-built carriage with a heraldic device of a crowing cock and the motto While I live, I'll crow. In receptions he glittered from head to toe with diamond buttons and buckles. His predilection for diamonds of all kinds gave him the nickname "Diamond Coates".

Coates was the victim of a prank orchestrated by Theodore Hook, who had famously coordinated the Berners Street hoax in 1810, a few years before. The Prince Regent was at the time holding "a fête of surpassing magnificence" at Carlton House, and Coates "in his glory- murdering Shakespeare at the Haymarket"; imitating the Chamberlain's handwriting, Hook produced a ticket "commanding the presence of Signor Romeo" and, dressing himself in fine scarlet livery, delivered this flattering but fake invitation to Coates in person. Hook waited to watch Coates embark for the event in his carriage, "bedizened in all his finery, with a diamond-hilted sword and the air of Louis le Grand". Coates was invited in, but on examination of the ticket he was "politely informed that a mistake had occurred", and turned away. Having sent off his carriage, he was obliged to wait at the Hackney carriage stand. The Prince, unwittingly involved in Hook's prank, regretted that Coates had been turned away, observing him to be an "inoffensive gentleman", and noting that "his presence might have amused many of the guests, and could have done harm to no one." The Prince sent his secretary the next day, inviting Coates to come and look at the "arrangements and ornaments" which were still all in place; Coates duly went. It was observed of Hook that, "to do him justice", he "never told the story without some signs of compunction."^[5]

Coates was never a professional actor, and only made his stage appearances in support of charitable causes: his own nickname of choice was 'the Celebrated Philanthropic Amateur'.^[1] After 1816 his performances ceased, as audiences had tired of laughing at him and theatrical managers were wary of allowing him use of their premises.^[1][6] Later he fell into financial difficulties and to avoid creditors moved to Boulogne-sur-Mer,^[7] where he met Emma Anne Robinson, daughter of a naval lieutenant.^[1] After Coates put his finances back into better order they returned to England and were married on 6 September 1823. The two lived quietly in London, living lastly at his residence, 28 Montagu Square.^[1] They had two children, both of whom predeceased Coates. Emma remarried in the year of Coates's death, her second husband being Mark Boyd.^[8]

Robert Coates died in London in 1848 after a street accident. He was caught and crushed between a Hansom cab and a private carriage as he was leaving a performance at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane on 15 February, and died at home six days later.^[1] At his inquest the coroner brought in a verdict of manslaughter by person or persons unknown.^[1] He is buried in an unmarked grave in Kensal Green Cemetery.

• William Topaz McGonagall
• Florence Foster Jenkins
• Ed Wood
• Tommy Wiseau
• Mrs Miller
• Legendary Stardust Cowboy

• Banvard's Folly: thirteen tales of renowned obscurity, famous anonymity, and rotten luck by Paul Collins, 2001
• In the USA the Harvard Theatrical Collection has a collection of contemporary accounts of Coates' performances, mostly very critical.
• The Richmond Library local studies has two playbills from his appearances at the local theatre. He is not named, just referred to as AN AMATEUR.

• Images of Robert Coates, mostly caricatures, are in the British Museum and may be found by searching the Collection
• Detailed but unsourced account of Coates' life.