As was his practice, Boucicault relied heavily upon other sources for his new vampire play, particularly Le Vampire by Alexandre Dumas père, which had recently premiered in Paris in December 1851. Boucicault also drew upon John Polidori’s 1819 short story The Vampyre (moonlight’s rejuvenating power on a mortally wounded vampire, the blood oath); Charles Robert Maturin’s 1820 novel Melmoth the Wanderer and James Malcolm Rymer’s 1845-47 penny dreadful Varney the Vampyre (the vampire’s garb, evocative portraits, a focus on Oliver Cromwell); and James Robinson Planché’s 1820 play The Vampire: or the Bride of the Isles (the vampire’s psychic power over his victims).

That said, Boucicault importantly added his own stylistic touches and innovations, notably adapting Dumas père’s tapestry sequence by replacing fairies and ghouls with portraits who come to life and emerge from their frames to warn of impending danger. Boucicault also became the first to write, direct, and perform the role of a vampire on stage. On 14 June 1852, Boucicault’s The Vampire, a Phantasm, related in Three Dramas, premiered at the Royal Princess’s Theatre. Despite the innovations of stagecraft and composition, as well as Boucicault’s mesmerizing performance as Alan Raby, the British public seemed reluctant to fully embrace the play.

The Times of London was unimpressed by the drama, but nevertheless spoke highly of Boucicault’s acting: “The success of Mr. Boucicault as an actor – for he made his debut as the Vampire – was far more unequivocal than that of the piece. The attitudes were well studied, the chilly aspect was carefully made up, and the few words of dialogue were judiciously spoken.” Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper was harsher, telling readers “[W]e have seldom met anything on the stage more abounding in pure unalloyed, undefecated absurdity than The Vampire,” adding, however, that Boucicault’s acting was “not above mediocrity.”

Queen Victoria became the play’s most notable admirer, seeing it on opening night with Prince Albert and thereafter claiming, “Mr. Boucicault, who is very handsome and has a fine voice, acted very impressively. I can never forget his livid face and fixed look, in the first two Dramas. It quite haunts me.” She even commissioned a portrait of him in the vampire role. However, she was less thrilled after watching the play again. “It does not bear seeing a second time, and is, in fact, very trashy.” Due in no small part to the poor reviews, The Vampire ended its one-month run at the Princess’s on 14 July 1852. Given the lackluster response to the play, Boucicault felt the need to streamline the plot to two acts, enhance the dialogue, and eliminate some of the more elaborate stagecraft. The result was not merely an abbreviated version of The Vampire; it was instead a very different drama, The Phantom.

The text of The Vampire included here is entirely in Boucicault’s hand and was purportedly written in six days during April 1852. The structure of the play is ingenious: beginning in the year 1660, each act takes place exactly one century after the other, and the characters in Acts II and III are direct descendants of those in the first act. This framing places the final act in 1860, eight years in the future for those attending at Princess’s theatre in 1852. Every 100 years, the titular vampire must take the life of a young woman and be rejuvenated by the rays of the moon atop Mt. Snowdon. This pattern is repeated in all three acts. Finally, at the end of Act III, the vampire is defeated and pulled down into the earth by his previous female victims. This manuscript copy at USF Special Collections is the only existing version of The Vampire in Boucicault’s hand. For a scholarly edition of the play, see here.

After moving to America in 1853, Boucicault had in his hand a rewrite of his play The Vampire. Boucicault felt the need to streamline the plot to two acts, enhance the dialogue, and eliminate some of the more elaborate stagecraft. The result was not merely an abbreviated version of The Vampire; it was instead a very different drama he named The Phantom. While the Puritan Alan Raby returns as the fiend needing to feast upon the blood of a maiden before being revived by the healing powers of moonlight, much of the stagecraft wizardry has been removed. Gone are the living portraits in the second drama of The Vampire, and Alan Raby is no longer vanquished by being pulled down to hell by one of his earlier victims, but rather hurled into a chasm where moonlight cannot reach. The plot and dialogue are also changed to provide more comic relief. 

With Boucicault and Agnes Robertson playing the lead roles, The Phantom opened at the National Theatre in Philadelphia on 12 May 1856 and later opened at Wallack’s Theatre in New York on 1 July 1856. Reviews were generally positive, with Putnam’s Monthly Magazine telling readers that the play “possesses a most ghastly fascination.” The Phantom played Wallack’s into the autumn of 1856, the run becoming its most successful in America. Samuel French published the play that same year. 

In 1857, The Phantom appeared in Boston and Louisville, and in 1859, Boucicault staged it in Washington, D.C. An audience member later recalled that, “Boucicault presented the character of the phantom in a manner that horrified while it electrified the audience. … He appeared on the stage as a sort of living corpse, bloodless and exanimate.” So great was the strain of this extraordinary part upon the actor that Boucicault reportedly said, “We must take this play off the bills; it is too much for my nerves.” 

Boucicault later staged The Phantom in London in 1862, but it was not a success, and was even hissed at times. A critic for the Wells Journal wrote, “if any of my readers, on coming up to London, feel inclined to go and see The Phantom, I can only say – don’t.” 

The text of The Phantom included here alternates between Boucicault’s hand and an unknown copyist. This manuscript bears a watermark of 1852. It is heavily annotated with corrections and stage directions by Boucicault, and the first act is nearly identical to the version published by Samuel French in 1856. Boucicault made significant changes to Act II, however, which will be of interest to researchers with only the published copy to hand.  

“The Colleen Bawn,” (from the Irish cailín bán ‘Fair-haired girl’) premiered at Laura Keene’s Theatre in New York City on 29 March 1860. This three-act play was adapted from Gerald Griffin’s The Collegians, and, according to Boucicault, was composed in five days. (Irish-American actor Barney Williams disputed this claim, however, declaring Boucicault was contracted to write the play for him, but ended up stealing it back for himself!) For the first time, Boucicault used his native Ireland as a backdrop and he claimed, “’Twill be found to be I think the best constructed of any of my works.” He was right. The play proved an immediate success, and ran until the end of the theatre season in May 1860. Boucicault’s wife, Agnes Robertson, was praised for her role as Eily, the titular Colleen Bawn, but it was Boucicault’s portrayal of Myles-na-Coppaleen, the dashing scamp with the charming brogue, who stole the show. His spectacular dive into an onstage ‘lake’ to save the drowning Eily delighted capacity audiences for decades, and this type of ‘sensation scene,’ coupled with just the right amount of Hibernian flavor and character, became the template for Boucicault’s success for years to come.

After the success of “The Colleen Bawn” in New York, Boucicault took the play to London, where it was an overwhelming triumph. It premiered at the Adelphi on 10 September 1860, and ran every available night for an unprecedented 230 performances, making it the first long run in British theatre history. Soon, operettas and burlesques were imitating “The Colleen Bawn,” and Boucicault himself helped turn it into a successful opera, The Lily of Killarney. Even Queen Victoria went to see “The Colleen Bawn” on numerous occasions, and was just as thrilled as her subjects with the sensational action scenes, picturesque scenery, and sentimental Irish music. Boucicault was rich, and he knew he had hit upon a successful formula—although even he might have been surprised to learn he’d play Myles-na-Coppaleen on stage well into his sixties.

USF Libraries houses several play scripts for “The Colleen Bawn,” and they are fascinating in their own right: one, dating from 1861, was intended as a gift for the Queen’s daughter Princess Alice, and another appears to be a slightly reworked version that was staged in Melbourne, Australia on Boucicault’s trip there in 1885.

“Hunted Down” (also known as “The Two Lives of Mary Leigh”) premiered in Manchester, England on 30 July 1866, and after enjoying positive reviews moved to London. The opening of “Hunted Down” on 5 November 1866 was a star-studded affair, with the likes of Charles Dickens, George Eliot, George Henry Lewes, and the founder of the National Gallery, Lord Stanhope, in attendance.

The production ran until February 1867, proving to be a great success not just for Boucicault, who verified that he still had his finger on the pulse of London, but also for the actor Henry Irving. Irving, who had languished in obscurity prior to “Hunted Down,” received great praise and adoration for his portrayal of the villain Rawdon Scudamore. He would never be obscure again, and the friendship forged between Boucicault and Irving would continue until Boucicault’s death in 1890.

The prompt book of “Hunted Down” digitized here is unique, for it includes an alternate ending to the play in which the villain Scudamore is shot dead off stage by his estranged wife.

Fresh off the international success of “The Colleen Bawn,” Boucicault hoped to repeat its success with a new Irish drama, premiering in his native city of Dublin on 7 November 1864. Set during the Irish Rebellion of 1798, “Arrah-na-Pogue” (‘Arrah of the Kiss’) proved to be a smash hit, and played to packed houses throughout its run. The play continued to demonstrate that Boucicault’s formula of sensation scenes, melodrama, and Irish character was a winner. Boucicault again took the role of the comic-rogue Irishman, this time appearing as Shaun the Post, whose dramatic prison escape and thrilling and hilarious courtroom scene often stole the show. The trial section was so endearing that George Bernard Shaw virtually lifted it for his Devil’s Disciple in 1897.

“Arrah-na-Pogue” soon moved to London in March 1865, where it continued to enjoy tremendous success, even inspiring some critics to predict a longer run than the record-smashing “The Colleen Bawn.” While this was not to be, the play was certainly a hit, despite some journalists, in this case in the journal Fun, marveling at the “hieroglyphics” appearing on the advertisements—unsure whether “Arrah-na-Pogue” was the language of Timbuctoo or Mandarin Chinese. The play opened in New York in July 1865, although Boucicault remained in London, likely due to the American Civil War. Regardless, “Arrah-na-Pogue” proved a success in America, and remained a staple of Boucicault’s stage repertoire, enjoying numerous revivals through to the late 1880s.

Perhaps the most enduring aspect of “Arrah-na-Pogue” has been Boucicault’s reworking of the old Irish street ballad “The Wearing of the Green,” which features prominently in the play. While the song’s anti-British sentiment played well in the Dublin theatres in 1864, and even became an anthem of sorts for the Fenian movement, it was less celebrated in England, and was banned from British theatres after the Fenian bombings in 1867. To this day, it is Boucicault’s version that you will hear sung, especially on St. Patrick’s Day.

The play script digitized here features minimal prompts in Boucicault’s hand, although a second prompt book in USF Special Collections shows Boucicault’s corrections the lyrics to “The Wearing of the Green,” and, as there are only two stanzas, may represent his attempts to sanitize the song for British audiences.

“Jeanie Deans” opened at Laura Keene’s Theatre in New York City on 9 January 1860. The play was an adaptation of Sir Walter Scott’s The Heart of Midlothian, and starred Boucicault’s wife Agnes Robertson in the title role. Boucicault himself portrayed the Counsel for the Defense of Jeanie Deans’ sister Effie in the pivotal court scene, and was highly praised for his performance. The play was a huge success, drawing capacity houses for fifty-four nights. The New York Herald felt that “Jeanie Deans” was a clever adaptation put into a “clear and compact dramatic form,” and even went so far as to say it met “the conditions of a perfect play.” Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper was careful not to reveal too much of the plot, as “all the world intends to see the piece,” but praised the entire cast and added additional commendation for the overture of Scottish melodies, which featured highland bagpipes.

In January 1863, Boucicault moved the play to London, where he changed the name to “The Trial of Effie Deans.” The sensational court scene in which Boucicault’s performance as the Counsel for the Defense had earned him rave revies in New York continued to please, and the acting and staging were highly praised. But there was a problem: Boucicault had just assumed management of Astley’s amphitheater, re-christening it The Theatre Royal, Westminster, where “The Trial of Effie Deans” was meant to be a highlight. However, despite the excellent cast and mainly positive reviews, the play failed to achieve the long run Boucicault had anticipated; this was mainly due to the Theatre Royal’s location, which was not actually in Westminster but rather on the south side of the Thames, where a reputation for violence and ruffianism kept theatre-goers away. By the Fall of 1863, Boucicault declared bankruptcy.

Boucicault revived the play as “Jeanie Deans” in January 1868, this time at the Princess’s Theatre in London, where it once again received welcome notices in the press, but did not enjoy a long or successful run. The proof copy of the script for “Jeanie Deans” as it was presented at the Princess’s in 1868 is digitized here, and the Dion Boucicault Theatre Collection also contains two earlier handwritten drafts of the script bearing a watermark of 1862, likely pointing to pre-production notes for the Theatre Royal performance in London. Boucicault’s emendations are found throughout both scripts, offering much to researchers of theatre criticism and history.

On 22 December 1873, “A Man of Honor” opened at Wallack’s Theatre in New York City. The five-act play was an acknowledged rewriting of “Le Fils Naturel,” written fifteen years earlier by Alexandre Dumas fils, although Boucicault defended his actions in an article published after the premiere in the Detroit Tribune. “I happen to be the only dramatist living,” he boasted, “capable of writing legitimate comedies.” He then added, “it was clear one man could not supply the whole world single-handed. In such a task some assistance is needed. So I brought in two of the most distinguished dramatists of France to help me…not furtively, but openly.” Despite all his bluster, “A Man of Honor” was a failure, and, although it packed the house on opening night and received some lukewarm reviews, it only remained on the boards until 17 January 1874.

A reviewer in the New York Daily Graphic hinted that Boucicault may have been over-taxed, for while the scenery and acting were laudable, “the transitions from one emotion to another are abrupt, true wit lacks spontaneity, and the action is encumbered by much that is weak and diffuse.” Even when Boucicault made changes to the play, shortening the dialogue and cutting some scenes, the same reviewer delivered the back-handed compliment: “It is now decidedly less stupid than it was at first, and last evening quite a number of people sat through the entire representation.” Doubt Boucicault’s talents and drive as they might, however, these critics were soon to be surprised: for “The Shaughraun,” Boucicault’s career masterpiece, was to appear the following year.

USF Special Collections is home to the only known copy of “A Man of Honor,” a handwritten manuscript in five parts with occasional emendations by Boucicault throughout. There are several blank spaces in the manuscript that have been reproduced in the transcript; these are likely caused by the copyist not being able to read Boucicault’s often opaque handwriting. Further, we have had to make some educated guesses as to Boucicault’s wording at the end of Act V. As such, researchers should consult the manuscript copy as well as the transcript where necessary.

Perhaps Boucicault’s most enduring play is “The Shaughraun,” first staged in New York in 1874 and played as recently as 2004 at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. Although it centered on an escaped Fenian prisoner, Boucicault was careful not to show overt sympathy for the cause of Irish rebellion, and instead made his own character, loveable scamp Conn the Shaughraun, the focal point of the play. Boucicault continued to portray the youthful Conn well into his sixties, as audiences still clamored for his signature performance. Although many tried to get Boucicault to change the title of the play (it derives from the Irish seachránaí, meaning a wanderer or vagabond), he held firm and gave an added level of Irish mystique to the drama.

“The Shaughraun” continued to follow the template for Boucicault’s Irish melodramas, but it really made every moment count: the play’s exotic setting on the wild Irish coast accentuated several sensation scenes—a dramatic boat escape, an assault on Rathgarron Head, a bizarre wake, and a jailbreak. And, in the end, Boucicault as Conn addressed the audience in Puckish fashion, adding a personal and endearing touch to the drama.

Irish-Americans were thrilled with Boucicault, and he was presented with a prestigious award by community leaders in March 1875 “in recognition of the services he has rendered to the Irish people in elevating the stage representation of their character.” Interestingly, to promote both his Irish patriotism and his own play, Boucicault wrote a letter to Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli in 1876, entreating him to release all remaining Fenian prisoners. Truth be told, Boucicault was more of a parliamentary nationalist and supporter of Home Rule, but he played his cards nicely to bring those favoring a physical-force rebellion to free Ireland into the theatre as well.

Not only is “The Shaughraun” Boucicault’s most celebrated play, but it has a very special place in USF Libraries: digitized here is the prompt book for the very first performance of the play at Wallack’s Theatre in New York, with Boucicault’s handwritten plea for its preservation.

On 1 October 1877, Dion Boucicault’s new five-act comedy “Marriage” opened the season at Wallack’s Theatre in New York City. In Boucicault’s opinion, his new piece was superior to even his most celebrated comedies, “London Assurance” and “Old Heads and Young Hearts.” Boucicault told the New York Herald, that “the dialogue is composed of an uninterrupted chain of epigrams” and required a “wakeful audience to catch the points as rapidly as they are made.” Perhaps the audience was not up to this intellectual task, or possibly Boucicault overestimated the quality of his new play, for, despite opening to a packed and enthusiastic house, “Marriage” was not a success, and ran only until 10 November 1877.

The New York Dispatch felt that the plot was “complicated, improbable, and tedious,” although the critic admitted Boucicault was still a master of epigram and stagecraft; “Marriage,” however, was a “play of mediocre merit, with occasional bright glimpses running through an interminable chaos of confusion.” The Spirit of the Times was equally harsh, calling “Marriage” more of a farce than a comedy, and, as such, was far too long at five acts. “It seems inflated,” said the critic, and “like good brandy, when mixed with too much water, it loses strength and flavor.” Like his counterpart in the Dispatch, however, the author acknowledged that Boucicault was still a virtuoso, maintaining with a firm backhand that no other living playwright could have made so much out of so little material. Although “Marriage” failed in New York, it was more popular in Philadelphia, leading Boucicault to form a “comedy company” which he sent on the road to perform his new play. Despite faint praise from critics in Pittsburg, it was official: “Marriage” was a failure.

The debut of “Marriage” also ushered in a period of bitter contention between Boucicault and theatre critics—a conflict that would rage until his death in 1890. Boucicault had published two articles, “The Decline and Fall of the Press” and “The Decline of the Drama” in the North American Review shortly before “Marriage” appeared at Wallack’s, and journalists took immediate notice. Boucicault contended in the former article that the press had been contaminated by “the corrupting power of advertisement,” and critics no longer offered their own expert opinions, but rather courted scandal and hurled accusations “to the sacrifice of all dignity, conscience, and truth.” For Boucicault, this criminally diminished the role of the audience, who lost their sense of independence and “yielded their privilege of judgement and waited to see ‘what the papers said.’” His follow-up article put the blame for the decline of the drama on the press, going so far as to say, “as the newspaper press has prospered, so in proportion have the poet, novelist, and the dramatist disappeared.”

The critics, especially in New York City, were justifiable upset with this characterization of their profession, especially accusations of  their “mischievous incapacity of judgement,” and they remained hostile to Boucicault and his dramatic output from that time forward. Whether their criticism of Boucicault was based on professional and unbiased opinion, or influenced by the mutual disrespect between the playwright and the press, one thing was clear: Boucicault had killed the goose that provided him golden eggs for forty years. While he did his best to hold onto his fame, he was never to know fortune again.

Ocean bottom-feeders, earth-dwelling gnomes, a populace of vegetables, and a group of rebellious apes populate Dion Boucicault’s sprawling nineteenth-century drama, “Babil and Bijou.” The work, commissioned by the thirty-eight-year-old Earl of Londesborough, was intended to be the greatest spectacle ever seen on stage. Boucicault did not disappoint and, when the eighteen-tableaux extravaganza debuted at Covent Garden in August 1872, it was filled with dancers, Amazonian warriors, and abundant, costumed sea life, and ran a total of five hours.

Although lacking in plot and short on dialogue, “Babil and Bijou” was proclaimed by one critic “the most magnificent display ever seen on the boards of a London Theatre.” The play was extremely successful in terms of its critics and audience, running for six months; however, it cost Lord Londesborough a small fortune of £11,000 and was the largest financial failure of the century to that point. Boucicault, perhaps aware that his massive spectacle was hemorrhaging money for his patron, returned to the United States in September 1872, soon after the drama premiered. He had been away from America for twelve years.

The play script digitized here does not include any marginalia penned by Boucicault, but it does offer an entertaining journey through the eighteen tableaux, highlighting all the marvelous characters, songs, scenery, and dialogue that made “Babil and Bijou” an artistic, if not financial, success.

“Rescued” opened on 4 September 1879 at the newly renovated Booth’s Theatre in New York City, and Boucicault was confident that he had written one of the best plays in his storied career. To his shock, critics lambasted the work and the refurbished venue. The New York Times felt that the drama was “constructed on old-time principles” and it was only because of “Mr. Boucicault’s peculiar merit that even he has been able to make so much out of so little; that his treatment of a ridiculous subject is not entirely ridiculous,” while the Philadelphia Times complained that Boucicault “be-deviled [Booth’s] interior till it looked like the saloon of a Mississippi steamboat,” and all for a “dreary fizzle” like “Rescued.” These criticisms helped ensure the play ended its run at Booth’s within a month. Boucicault continued to blame the press for the failures of his plays, convinced critics were unable or unwilling to recognize true artistic value. In any case, the losses incurred by Boucicault at Booth’s were listed at $25,000. 

Boucicault was so sure of the success of “Rescued” that he had arranged an opening in London at the same time as it played in New York: it premiered at the Adelphi on 30 September 1879. The critics and audiences were no kinder to the play in England, however, with one critic noting that Boucicault “is so careful not to aim over the heads of his audience, that sometimes, I think, he aims too low, and merely hits the ground.” The Era added that if Boucicault wrote to the public taste, then “that taste is so far degraded” it will “accept any rubbish he chooses to offer it.” Yet, even these faithful masses were not fully satisfied: it was reported that “much hissing was heard amidst the applause.” The failure of “Rescued” on both sides of the Atlantic solidified the notion that audiences were outgrowing Boucicault’s now tired formulation of sensational scenes and hackneyed villains. 

The Dion Boucicault Theatre Collection contains two versions of “Rescued,” both digitized and available here. “Version One” is lighter on dialogue and exposition and has the villains arrested at the end with the lovers given a moment to swoon. “Version Two,” on the other hand, is much wordier and has the main villain kill his accomplice before jumping into an abyss to abruptly end the play. Whichever form was staged—whether in New York or London—did not matter: “Rescued” was a financial and critical disaster. 

“A Bridal Tour” is a rewritten version of “Marriage” that Boucicault took overseas to London three years after the latter failed in America. Shortened to three acts, the play opened at Haymarket Theatre on 2 August 1880, and, while the London Times praised the play for the quality of its actors, overall the play was unsuccessful. Critics said that the play failed in both dramatic and comedic qualities, had a puzzling plot, and read better than it acted. It only ran until 3 September 1880.

The play script digitized here is an unmarked copy, and makes for an interesting comparison to the longer and more complex “Marriage.”

“Suilamor” (often written “Suil-a-mor”) was a rewrite of a rewrite for Boucicault, who continued to struggle to find a new theatrical hit. In 1873, Boucicault premiered a new play “Daddy O’Dowd” in New York City, but it proved a failure. He later rewrote the play as “The O’Dowd,” and premiered it at the Adelphi in London in October 1880. While Boucicault received praise for his performance of the old titular character, his attacks on the landlord system and overt sympathies with the Land League in Ireland caused an uproar in England, and the public demanded he alter the play. Boucicault, however, wrote to the press saying, “the features objected to are essential to the design and intent of the work. It is, therefore, in no captious spirit the author declines to alter it; but rather than lose the favour of any of his audience, he will amend his error by withdrawing the play altogether.” The old dramatist had learned a valuable lesson about staging plays with current political situations—the British did not enjoy Irish propaganda pieces.

Two years later, Boucicault rewrote the play again, this time as “Suilamor,” for an engagement at the Boston Museum in February 1882. The Boston Globe noted that in watching “The O’Dowd” the “cockneys could not tolerate Mr. Boucicault’s plain-spoken allusion to Erin as the Cinderella of the British family,” yet now the play arrived in America as the “first worthy attempt to give upon the stage an idea of the situation in Ireland.” Ironically, Boucicault removed much of the material related to the Land League and boycotting, thinking his American audience would not understand all the allusions. Either way, the play was a rousing success in Boston, and had a solid run throughout Massachusetts before arriving in New York City in March 1882, where it was damned with faint praise and was withdrawn after a week.

The prompt book digitized here offers a fascinating glimpse into Boucicault’s creative process, as portions of “The O’Dowd” script are pasted in the book to show where the text did not change.

After the failure of his Irish melodramas Suil-a-mor (1882) and The Amadan (1883), Boucicault adapted the French play Le Truc d’Arthur for his new three-act comedy Vice-Versa, which premiered in Boston on 21 March 1883 and opened in New York City at the new Star Theatre on 26 March. Boucicault claimed that the play was “simply a bit of fun” in contrast to the gloomier dramas that had been recently staged, but his critics were no more impressed with this latest offering than his sensation dramas. “Farce is moribund, if not dead,” claimed The Critic, and the public “is turning back from madcap farce to that portrayal of real life which lies at the root of comedy.” Other critics were no kinder to the play, with the Boston Evening Transcript calling it “stupid and threadbare,” while the New York Herald called it a “hash of trite farcical incidents” that “stirred laughter here and there and then died out into mere inanity.” The New York Dispatch joked that “it made a show of wit, but inspection proved it to be ‘Vice Versa.’ The incidents were stamped original, but their exhibition resulted in a verdict that they were ‘Vice Versa.’ The argument and situations were expected to be of a new coinage—but alas they were merely ‘Vice Versa.’” As a result, the play was pulled after 11 April 1883; Boucicault’s struggles to remain relevant continued. 

USF Special Collections has a fascinating assortment of materials related to Vice-Versa. The main prompt book for the performance at the Star Theatre in New York is digitized here, but also in the collection are documents outlining the creative and adaptive process Boucicault undertook with the play. It seems that E.G. Lankester made an English adaptation of the French Le Truc d’Arthur and called it Diggory’s Dodge, or the Valet de Sham. Boucicault somehow acquired this script and altered it to become Spooning, changing the names created by Lankester and claiming it as his own. Character sides for Spooning are in the USF collection, as is the original script of Diggory’s Dodge. Play scripts documenting the switch in title to Vice-Versa and the numerous changes in character names and actions provide a unique glimpse into Boucicault’s process for staging an ‘original’ drama, and should prove extremely valuable to researchers.

Despite several successes through his career, Dion Boucicault found himself in dire financial straits in 1884. While in London that summer, Boucicault was given a manuscript for a play which had been commissioned for another playwright to produce, but ultimately had been abandoned given the political climate in Britain and Ireland. He took the manuscript and “Boucicaulted” it, offering a play that was certainly no original, but had many of his trademark moments of clever dialogue and melodrama.

“Robert Emmet” opened at McVicker’s Theatre in Chicago on 5 November 1884 (coinciding with the election of President Grover Cleveland) and had a disastrous opening. Boucicault himself writes that actors were coming on and off the stage at the wrong times, cues for gunfire came at the wrong time, props were missing, and pregnant pauses were common between scene changes and acts. Needless to say, “Robert Emmet” was a financial failure and was withdrawn after only three days. Upon closer inspection, the writing of the play itself does not seem to be the cause for the failure, but rather a culmination of these many external factors which ultimately doomed the effort. In any case, Boucicault never tried to open the play again.

“Robert Emmet” was new for Boucicault, as he was not used to writing or even adapting straight historical plays. He himself noted that the play was simply composed of the incidents that occurred during the sixty-nine days between Emmet’s planned rebellion and his execution on 20 September 1803, and he attempted to preserve the language and known utterances of Emmet as much as possible. It is a pity that Boucicault never tried his hand at completing a fully original drama centered on one of Ireland’s greatest heroes and martyrs.

The prompt book seen here clearly shows Boucicault’s addition of certain scenes of dialogue that enhance the action, many of them related to the character he played, Michael Dwyer.

“Phryne, or The Romance of a Young Wife,” was first staged on 12 September 1887 in San Francisco, where it failed, and did no better in Boston that October. The play revolved around a marital quarrel that sets off a chain of unfortunate events, and was dedicated to his new wife, Louise Thorndyke Boucicault. The couple had married in September of 1885 under dubious circumstances. Though Boucicault was technically still married to his first wife, Agnes, he proceeded to marry Louise, and was summarily shunned in social circles by both those who did and did not know him.

Though he continued to create and stage plays, Boucicault sought to avoid the public’s voyeuristic fascination toward his new marriage, and employed actors to play parts intended for him and Louise. It seems as if one of the play’s main character, Phryne, whose excessive adoration for her husband is central to the plot, is echoed in his thoughts about Louise. He told his friend, Albert Palmer, that “the only true, disinterested love that has come into my life I have found since I married Louise Thorndyke.”

The prompt book digitized here is a truly unique item, as this play is not found elsewhere.

“Cushla Machree*” (from the Irish-language term of endearment cuisle mo chroí, ‘Pulse of my Heart’) was the last of Dion Boucicault’s ‘Irish’ dramas. An adaptation of Sir Walter Scott’s novel Guy Mannering, the four-act play was originally called “The Spae Wife,” and had a single copyright performance in London, England on 30 March 1886. Two years later, Boucicault reworked the play for an Irish-American audience, moving the action from the Highlands of Scotland to the north of Ireland. “Cushla Machree” was first staged on 20 February 1888 in Boston, MA, where Boucicault and his Irish dramas had long been welcomed with open arms. The play was a failure, however, lasting only two weeks on the boards. Boucicault made some minor adjustments for a Chicago engagement beginning on 30 April 1888, but it proved even less popular in the Midwest, and was withdrawn on 6 May.

Audiences seemed to agree with the critic in the Boston Journal that “Cushla Machree” was “insufferably slow at times” and the dialogue was “commonplace, having little of the flavor of Boucicault’s wit and brightness,” causing the play to go “limping through its four lengthy acts.” Even Boucicault’s performance as the often drunk, but loveable, Andy Dolan provided only “beads strung on a cheap, spun twine.” The failure of “Cushla Machree” demoralized Boucicault, and, by the end of May 1888, the former darling of the Victorian stage knew his touring days were over. The man who once thrived on shaping public opinion had lost touch with modern taste.

Despite the critical failure of “Cushla Machree” on the stage, there is a wealth of valuable material for scholars related to the play. For example, the complete play script for “The Spae Wife” is in the collection, and the prompt book available here contains extensive notes and alterations in Boucicault’s hand, demonstrating his creative process and his willingness to alter a play’s dialogue and structure to better please his audience.

* The play’s title is given variously as “Cushla Machree,” “Cuishla Machree,” “Cuisle-Ma-Chree,” and “Cuishla Ma Chree” in the newspapers and secondary sources.