Our American Cousin is a three-act play written by English playwright Tom Taylor. The play opened in London in 1858 but quickly made its way to the U.S. and premiered at Laura Keene’s Theatre in New York City later that year. It remained popular in the U.S. and England for the next several decades. Its most notable claim to fame, however, is that it was the play U.S. President Abraham Lincoln was watching on April 14, 1865 when he was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth, who used his knowledge of the script to shoot Lincoln during a more raucous scene.
The play is a classic Victorian farce with a whole range of stereotyped characters, business, and many entrances and exits. The plot features a boorish but honest American cousin who travels to the aristocratic English countryside to claim his inheritance, and then quickly becomes swept up in the family’s affairs. An inevitable rescue of the family’s fortunes and of the various damsels in distress ensues.
Our American Cousin was originally written as a farce for an English audience, with the laughs coming mostly at the expense of the naive American character. But after it moved to the U.S. it was eventually recast as a comedy where English caricatures like the pompous Lord Dundreary soon became the primary source of hilarity. This early version, published in 1869, contains fewer of that character’s nonsensical adages, which soon came to be known as “Dundrearyisms,” and for which the play eventually gained much of its popular appeal.
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Boots, and one for you, Harry. Hiding letter behind her.
Harry Vernon
Ah, one for me, Florence?
Florence Trenchard
Now what will you give me for one?
Harry Vernon
Ah, then you have one?
Florence Trenchard
Yes, there, Harry. Gives it.
Harry Vernon
Ah, for a ship. Opens and reads.
Florence Trenchard
Ah! Mon ami, you are to leave us. Good news, or bad?
Harry Vernon
No ship yet, this promises another year of landlubbery. Goes up.
Florence Trenchard
I’m so sorry. Aside. I’m so glad he’s not going away. But where’s Dundreary. Has anybody seen Dundreary?
Enter Lord Dundreary.
Lord Dundreary
Good morning, Miss Florence.
Florence Trenchard
Comes down, L. Good morning, my Lord Dundreary. Who do you think has been here? What does the postman bring?
Lord Dundreary
Well, sometimes he brings a bag with a lock on it, sometimes newspapers, and sometimes letters, I suppothe.
Florence Trenchard
There. Gives letter. Lord Dundreary opens letter and Florence Trenchard goes up R. Lord Dundreary knocks knees against chair, turns round knocks shins, and at last is seated extreme R.
Lord Dundreary
Thank you. Reads letter.
Capt. De Boots
Reading paper. By Jove, old Soloman has made a crop of it.
Lord Dundreary
A—what of it?
Capt. De Boots
I beg pardon, an event I am deeply interested in, that’s all. I beg pardon.
Augusta
Ah! Florence, dear, there’s a letter of yours got among mine. Gives it.
Florence Trenchard
Why papa, it’s from dear brother Ned.
Sir Edward Trenchard
From my boy! Where is he? How is he? Read it.
Florence Trenchard
He writes from Brattleboro’ Vt. Reading written letter. “Quite well, just come in from a shooting excursion, with a party of Crows, splendid fellows, six feet high.”
Lord Dundreary
Birds six feet high, what tremendous animals they must be.
Florence Trenchard
Oh, I see what my brother means; a tribe of indians called Crows, not birds.
Lord Dundreary
Oh, I thought you meant those creatures with wigs on them.
Florence Trenchard
Wigs!
Lord Dundreary
I mean those things that move, breathe and walk, they look like animals with those things. Moving his arms like wings.
Florence Trenchard
Wings.
Lord Dundreary
Birds with wings, that’s the idea.
Florence Trenchard
Reading written letter. “By the by, I have lately come quite haphazard upon the other branch of our family, which emigrated to America at the Restoration. They are now thriving in this State, and discovering our relationship, they received me most hospitably. I have cleared up the mysterious death of old Mark Trenchard.”
Sir Edward Trenchard
Of my uncle!
Florence Trenchard
Reading written letter. “It appears that when he quarreled with his daughter on her marriage with poor Meredith, he came here in search of this stray shoot of the family tree, found them and died in their house, leaving Asa Trenchard, one of the sons, heir to his personal property in England, which ought to belong to poor Mary Meredith. Asa Trenchard is about to sail for the old country, to take possession. I gave him directions to find you out, and he should arrive almost as soon as this letter. Receive him kindly for the sake of the kindness he has shown to me, and let him see some of our shooting. Your affectionate brother, Ned.”
Sir Edward Trenchard
An American branch of the family.
Mrs. Mountchessington
Oh, how interesting!
Augusta
Enthusiastically. How delightfully romantic! I can imagine the wild young hunter. An Apollo of the prairie.
Florence Trenchard
An Apollo of the prairie; yes, with a strong nasal twang, and a decided taste for tobacco and cobblers.
Sir Edward Trenchard
Florence, you forget that he is a Trenchard, and no true Trenchard would have a liking for cobblers or low people of that kind.
Florence Trenchard
I hate him, whatever he is, coming here to rob poor cousin Mary of her grandmother’s guineas.
Sir Edward Trenchard
Florence, how often must I request you not to speak of Mary Meredith as your cousin?
Florence Trenchard
Why, she is my cousin, is she not? Besides she presides over her milk pail like a duchess playing dairymaid. Sir Edward Trenchard goes up. Ah! Papa won’t hear me speak of my poor cousin, and then I’m so fond of syllabubs. Dundreary, do you know what syllabubs are?
Lord Dundreary
Oh, yeth, I know what syllabubs is—yeth—yeth.
Florence Trenchard
Why, I don’t believe you do know what they are.
Lord Dundreary
Not know what syllabubs are? That’s a good idea. Why they are—syllabubs are—they are only babies, idiotic children; that’s a good idea, that’s good. Bumps head against Florence Trenchard.
Florence Trenchard
No, it’s not a bit like the idea. What you mean are called cherubims.
Lord Dundreary
What, those things that look like oranges, with wings on them?
Florence Trenchard
Not a bit like it. Well, after luncheon you must go with me and I’ll introduce you to my cousin Mary and syllabubs.
Lord Dundreary
I never saw Mr. Syllabubs, I am sure.
Florence Trenchard
Well, now, don’t forget.
Lord Dundreary
I never can forget—when I can recollect.
Florence Trenchard
Then recollect that you have an appointment with me after luncheon.
Lord Dundreary
Yeth, yeth.
Florence Trenchard
Well, what have you after luncheon?
Lord Dundreary
Well, sometimes I have a glass of brandy with an egg in it, sometimes a run ’round the duck-pond, sometimes a game of checkers—that’s for exercise, and perhaps a game of billiards.
Florence Trenchard
No, no; you have with me after luncheon, an ap—an ap—
Lord Dundreary
An ap—an ap—
Florence Trenchard
An ap—an appoint—appointment.
Lord Dundreary
An ointment, that’s the idea. Knocks against Capt. De Boots as they go upstage.
Mrs. Mountchessington
Aside. That artful girl has designs upon Lord Dundreary. Augusta, dear, go and see how your poor, dear sister is this morning.
Augusta
Yes, mamma. Exit, L. 1 E.
Mrs. Mountchessington
She is a great sufferer, my dear.
Lord Dundreary
Yeth, but a lonely one.
Florence Trenchard
What sort of a night had she?
Mrs. Mountchessington
Oh, a very refreshing one, thanks to the draught you were kind enough to prescribe for her, Lord Dundreary.
Florence Trenchard
What! Has Lord Dundreary been prescribing for Georgina?
Lord Dundreary
Yeth. You see I gave her
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