The Sun. — 1849-11-27 (London, England)

ADLLPHI THEATRE. A regular-built, thoroughly Adelphi domestic melodrama was produced here last evening, and embracing as it does the whole strength of the company, having been put upon the stage with the tact and knowledge of effect which is so peculiar a characteristic of this theatre, being moreover an interesting drama, and being accompanied by some clever and appropriate music, the composition of Mr. Alfred Mellon, it is not matter of surprise that its success was a thorough Adelphi triumph. The authors of the drama, which is entitled The Willow Copse, are understood to be Messrs. Bourcicault and Charles Kenny, who have introduced an innovation in the construction of their melodrama, by making it consist of five acts instead of three. The plot, as is usual in such cases, consists of a somewhat complicated story of crime and retribution. Sir Richard Vaughan (Mr. Boyce) has been disinherited by his father, and the broad acres have been bequeathed to Luke Fielding (Mr. Hughes), a neighbouring farmer. The will, however, has not been produced ; Sir Richard has lived quietly, though with mental uneasiness, on the family estate, and has moreover seduced Rose (Madame Celeste) the farmer's daughter. Some rigid maxims uttered by Luke on the subject of female virtue have such an effect on Rose that she resolves to drown herself in a certain " Willow Copse," and betakes herself to the spot, having just written a letter to her father. The good old gentleman, being more profound in ethics than in literature, cannot read the epistle, but begs the assistance of Lucy Vanguard (Miss Ellen Chaplin), a young lady, who with her father (Mr. Cullenford), and her intended (Mr. Worrell), is stopping at Sir Richard's manorhouse. She misleads Luke as to the sense of the letter, and, going to the Willow Copse, prevents the perpetration of suicide by Rose. She is escorted back to the manor-house by Sir Richard, who has likewise been to the copse to have an interview with Hulks (Mr. 0. Smith), a mysterious villain, who knows the existence of the will, and they find the mansion broken into by the same villain, and two accomplices (Messrs. Bedford and Wright). Sir Richard hides Lucy in a pavilion, but dares not detain Hulks, whom he recognises, and who therefore escapes with the will in his possession. The discovery of Lucy in the pavilion, coupled with the fact that she has taken the midnight walk with Sir Richard, for a while compromises her reputation. An explanation, which takes place at a harvest-home festival, soon sets her right with her friends and her father, but Farmer Luke, who perceives that Rose's letter is used as the chief explanatory means, grows very uneasy. As no one will give a satisfactory account of its contents, he makes his daughter read it herself, and the tableau in which she, on her knees, reads the confession of her guilt, while Luke stands listening with suppressed agony, and the rest of the characters watch them with horror, is one of the most effective in the piece. The disgrace of Rose being fully revealed to Luke, he resigns to her his farm, intending to settle elsewhere, but insists on knowing the name of her seducer, the only fact which yet remains untold. She resists his demands and menaces, but the sound of a man's voice outside the door seems to promise that the secret must now be revealed. Luke snatches up a billhook, Rose falls senseless, as also does Luke himself when he perceives that the intruder is Sir Richard Vaughan, whose father was his friend. Sir Richard, to shelter Rose from the paternal wrath, takes her in his arms, while yet senseless, and conveys her in his carriage to London. The old man, when he rises, has lost his intellect, and a powerful scene is produced, in which Meg (Miss Woolgar), the rustic servant of the farm, who has innocently caused much of the mischief by her babbling, is almost distracted at perceiving such fatal results. Before the denouement takes place four years are supposed to elapse. Sir Richard has married Rose, and has been vainly endeavouring to find her father, who has strayed from his home, and is supported by Meg, now a London milkmaid. At last accident brings him to his daughter's door, a recognition takes place, and Sir Richard, while obtaining his forgiveness, has the satisfaction of placing in his hands the will, which has been recovered with much difficulty from Hulks, who is exhibited as a frequenter of the vilest dens in the metropolis. It will be seen from the above description of the plot that the Willow Copse, as might indeed have been expected from its authorship, is a dramatic composition of a much higher order than the general run of melodramas—it is a well-built play; there are neither incidents nor personages introduced who do not subserve in some degree to the progress of the plot, neither is their a single scene in which it does not progress ; the dialogue, too, is of a higher order than is generally to be found in compositions of this nature, and the incidents are many of them of a perfectly novel, none of them of a hackneyed, character. The admirable manner in which the comic characters are made to contribute to the effective working out of the plot is deserving of especial commendation ; we recommend the attentive study of the construction of this portion of the Willow Copse to all concocters of melodramas. The piece was admirably acted; each performer was fitted to a nicety, and each exerted themselves to the utmost. The Rose of Madame Celeste was one of the most touching pieces of pathetic acting ever presented on any stage; in the suicide scene she was exquisitely pathetic, and her acting in the scene in which she reads the letter to her father was perfectly agonising. Of Miss Woolgar's Meg it is impossible to speak too highly—it is one of the chefs ceurre of this most talented young lady—as perfect, though in a different line, as her Lemuel. The Luke Fielding of Mr. H. Hughes was full of heart and energy, and his mad scenes were given with a truthfulness to nature which was terrific. 0. Smith, as Hulks, was perfectly fitted, and his assumption in the London scenes of the play of the character of a missionary preacher, was a rich piece of sanctimoniousness. In the same portion of the piece Paul Bedford appears as a pious beggar, wandering through the streets, accompanied by four children, whom he has hired, " warranted to cry like waterspouts," and addresses the public in general as his Christian friends, with most amusingly impudent unction, while Wright is full of drollery as a peripatetic vender of razors and dog-collars. Mr. Worrell and Miss Ellen Chaplin had but little to do, but that little they did excellently well. The piece was loudly applauded at the conclusion, and all the principal artistes were called before the curtain. \Ve predict a long career of success for the Willow Copse.