This successful inauguration of his venture was to bear fruit in a long series of important pieces, each produced with all the advantages that unsparing labour, good taste, study, and expense could supply. Who could have dreamed, or did _he_ dream on that night? that no fewer than nine of Shakespeare’s greatest plays, a liberal education for audiences, were destined to be his contribution to “the public stock of harmless pleasure”? Every one of taste is under a serious obligation to him, having consciously or unconsciously learnt much from this accomplished man. On this occasion, adopting a custom since always adhered to, the manager had his arrangement of the play printed, with an introduction by a good Shakespearian student, who was destined to be a well-known figure in the _entourage_ of the Lyceum. Albeit a little _tête montée_, “Frank Marshall,” with his excited, bustling ways, and eccentric exterior, seems now to be missed. He was always _bon enfant_. He had written one very pleasing comedy, ‘False Shame,’ and was also rated as a high authority on all Shakespearian matters. He published an elaborate _Study of Hamlet_, and later induced Irving to join him in an ambitious edition of Shakespeare, which has recently been completed. He was also a passionate bibliomaniac, though not a very judicious one, lacking the necessary restraint and judgment. He had somewhat of a troubled course, like so many a London _littérateur_. At this time the average theatrical criticism, from lack of suitable stimulant to excite it, was not nearly so discriminating as it is now, when there is a body of well-trained, capable men, who sign their names and carry out their duty with much independence. It is extraordinary what a change has taken place. At the opening of Irving’s management there was certainly a tendency to wholesale and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, too, for all were grateful to one who was making such exertion to restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordinary newspapers, however, overwhelmed him with their rather tedious, indiscriminate praises; it seemed as though too much could not be said. There is no praise where _everything_ is praised; nor is such very acceptable to its object. A really candid discussion on the interpretation of a character, with reasonable objections duly made, and argued out with respect, and suggestions put forward—this becomes of real profit to the performer. Thus in one single short criticism on a character of Garrick’s—he was once playing a gentleman disguised as a valet—Johnson has furnished not only Garrick, but all players too, with an invaluable principle which is the foundation of all acting: “No, sir; he does not let the gentleman break out through the footman.”