A NOTED COMEDIAN

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1687, 29 June 1904, Page 74 (Supplement)

A NOTED COMEDIAN

jQHN, COT.TMA.N’ AS I KNEW HIM.

/ (By. Henry J. -Drane.)

--X . was not-privileged to know John Coleman in his younge>r days. It is some Seventeen or eighteen years since he first Introduced to me. The picture -he then made; imprinted itself indelibly on' my, memory/ It i&einSas: though it were yesterday; Dressed in hia favourite blue -tergeVfuit; 'stariding.erect. his fine,. i. ittajttly;;<h^d : / -weltv'thrown - back, his eyes fla»hihg -!their.. electric sparky, I. Can. see him now.:, as, lie -told' some anecdote,- or related, ‘-a very; remarkable cir«nmsiitf>.T>p.ft,,> as herwas wont, to call it. It was a tonic to- be in the company' of. ‘as t we called him, when ha; was", in a'talking mood, for he had a wafiderful ; Store of anecdotes, and wastnd/subject. bfimany/Perhaps the bestknow dn the’latter _ category is that re-. Speoting his rendition of ‘Hamlet.” It Is said that when H. J. Byron was on his death-bed, Coleman - called ' with a friend. '‘.Byron,” said John, "did you not say I was the first Hamlet you ever saw?,” Byron - smiled , faintly, , and, as well as he could, v replied: No, John. What I said was, 'you were the worst . Hamlot l ever saw/A triend once ventured to repeat this story to John, and 'asked if there was any truth in it. Coleman, with one of his hearty outbursts, replied: "If you believe that, .you would..believe anything.” When. John told me that story, I suggested that supposed ithad some. foundation, but he assured n\e that, it was pure fabrica--aKoh: "However,” he said, ‘‘the story is so good, that it ought.to be true, and not be lost/' Gn the other hand, I have heard him tell many a story ■where the laugh was entirely against ■#ih/V:'.// ; % ' ONE OF THE BEST STORIES heard . Coleman tell is of the. incident which was the initial course of his marrying the. partner of his joys, and sorrows, as she was for something like :#drity years, and I give it here as nearly as possible in his own words: One memorable night a tight boot and a match-making sister changed the current : of v :ihy - destiny." :Mv. sister! Annie had made up her mind tnat a friend of hers and I. were. 'made - for each other. I was to take my sister and the lady with whom’ .they were, staying, to . the opera. - over . money' in those days, and:to save sixpence (the 'bus fare), I walked from Westminster to Kensington. I hast on a new pair of patent leather boots.'lmagine five'miles in a broiling sun in new patent leather boots! By the tiina I reached Kensington I was in agony.- !When we sat down to dinner, j the first-thing I did was to smuggle my leg under' the table and extricate my foot from the inferno in which it had been compressed during that terrible fivemile tramp. To get a boot off is one thing; to get it on is another, especially when the foot is swollen to twice its normal dimensions. All my efforts were m vain. It was quite evident there was no opera for me that night, and those designing sisters of mine arrang«d for their friend to remain at home and keep me Company, while they went to Ovont Carden. When my sisters returned, we had supper, and then came that horrible boot once more. It was utterly intractable. There was no help for it, I had to stay the night. In fie morning the pooi* foot was worse than ever, so I had to invest in a pair of slippers, which cost meT. six ■ shillings. I had saved sixpence and lost six bob—no, ten, for I had to spend four bob for a cab home. But ‘she! —the fair, the chaste, the inexpensive she!’ —had promised!” There are many stories one could tell of Coleman, but they will nearly all be. found in his forthcoming autobiography, entitled '‘Fifty Years of an Actor’s Life/’ John x was always. A GREAT FAVOURITE WITH THE LADIES, and snlall wonder. One of the first things that drew- me to him was the absolute respect in which he held the gentler sex. Ido not think anyone would “have ventured to say a word against a woman in his hearing. It .was enough for him to know the subject was woman to ensure his respect, und, if • need be, his protection. I can see him in my mind's eye as I bringing down his first, and saying: ‘My God sir, how dare you! Do you rorget that Vour mother was a woman? My mother was a saint! and for the sake of the ihemory of her you shall not say a diSr paraging word about any woman ml my jfeanng/’ . 0 IE His love of children was as strong as Ids respect for women, and oh! ho-w ho loved to-be with-them; Many is the time I; have seen him, notwithstanding ,-his seventy years, romping on the lawn with my boys, or walking and skipping through the woods, but he was as young »ml jolLv as any pf them. On one occa-

sion I remember someone saying: “Children are such a trouble.” and Coleman burst forth in a regular torrent of wrath, saying: "Trouble! My God, sir, you deserve to be without them! What would I give had I a child I could call my own ? My feelings are such as Patti's, when she said: T would give all my wealth, all my jewels, for one little mite to place ite arms around iriy neck and call me '‘mother.” * And, had I her wealth.” continued Coleman, '''l would say ike same, to hear one call me 'father/ ” John Coleman adored Nature in no ordinary way. It was refreshing to see him stand still - during a country walk, and figuratively, devour a beautiful landscape, or gather wild .flowers by the way, carefully tending...them, and taking them back to his rooms in town, to give them to "The Girls/’ as he called the ladies in whose house he lived. AS AN ACTOR

I hardly knew him, but there could be no doubt concerning his devotion to his art. I saw him in '‘The Price of Peace/' and so natural was his; demeanour that one might have been in a room and taking part in the scene oneself. I have seen him give to. a party of frieifds in my own drawing-room Hamlet’s soliloquy, and so powerful was his rendering that I have heard men who ought to know say ‘'that few, if any,- ever gave it better”; and, while in days gone' by whole houses would rise at the acting of John Coleman, he was never spoilt, for I have Seen him receive the praise of a child with all modesty. Up to within a few weeks of the end his spirits were excellent, He made a brave struggle against adverse circumstances painful beyond measure. He was a good fighter, but over-trustful and sanguine.

■. ‘'Honest John” he was called by many, and deservedly so; he might have been' called “Willing John,” too. No one ever appealed to John Coleman in a case of distress or embarrassment in vain. He extended the helping hand, giving it when he had it to give, or working like a horse in order to obtain the needful reliefs Once he was talking about the lines engraven on tombstones, and one who holds him in. tender memory said: "I know what I should put on yours, John, if I had my way.” With the usual curiosity of man, lie wanted to know what that was.

"Wery good to me indeed, he wos/’ was the answer, from the lips of a devoted woman, who remembered her "Bleak House” and her John Coleman equally well. HE NEVER FORGOT A FRIEND. John Coleman never forgot either a friend or a worthy artist; he rejoiced with those that triumphed like his good friend Wilson Barrett, and mourned with the many upon whom fortune did not smile; and one of the last things he did was to scribble some impromptu lines to Mr W. S. Gilbert, with a view to their being properly embodied in verse, as a tribute of regard for a Master on his resuming connection with the Stage, which to John Coleman came near to being ‘‘all the world.” Many I know hold him in affectionate memory; circumstances beyond their control rendered it impossible for some to be present at the last sad ceremony, when he was laid to rest with the wife he loved so well, but one’s belief in human nature was a little shaken when one counted the eight or nine who assisted at the obsequies of a man who had done so much, suffered so much, and set an example which is as a shining light to those who were brought into intimate touch with him. Considering how much, he had done for others during his lifetime, how many there are still living to whom John ColeiTian gave a helping liand iu other days, it is a matter of wonder that at his graven side there was so little "moaning at the when 'he? “put out to sea.