Nothing was more remarkable than the general effect of this fine and thoughtful representation upon the public. It was a distinct education, too, and set everyone discussing and reading. Admittedly one result was the great increase in the sale of editions of Shakespeare’s works; and the ephemeral literature engendered in the shape of articles, criticisms, and illustrations of all kinds was truly extraordinary. Here again was heard the harsh note of the jealous and the envious. There was plenty of fair and honest dissent as to the interpretation of the play, with some reasonably argued protests against the over-abundant decoration. The hundredth night of the run of this prodigiously successful revival was celebrated in hospitable fashion by a supper, to which all that was artistic, literary, and fashionable—_tout Londres_ in short—was bidden. The night was Saturday, February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven. As soon as the piece was terminated a wonderful _tour de force_ was accomplished. In an incredibly short space of time—some forty minutes, I believe—an enormous marquee, striped red and white, that enclosed the whole of the stage, was set up; the tables were arranged and spread with “all the luxuries of the season” with magic rapidity. An enjoyable night followed. The host’s health was given by that accomplished man, and man of elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought a curiously _mal à propos_ speech. After conventional eulogiums, he could not resist some half-sarcastic remarks as to “this new method of adorning Shakespeare.” He condemned the system of long “runs,” which he contrasted with that of his youth, when pieces were given not oftener than once or twice in the week. He then praised the improvement in the manners of the profession, “so that the tradition of good breeding and high conduct was not confined to special families like the Kembles, or to special individuals like Mr. Irving himself, but was spread over the profession, so that families of condition were ready to allow their children to go on the stage. _We put our sons and daughters into it._” I recall now the genuine indignation and roughly-expressed sentiments of some leading performers and critics who were sitting near me at this very awkward compliment. He then proceeded to speak of the new impersonation, describing how he had seen a Shylock, formerly considered a ferocious monster, but who had, under their host’s treatment, become a “gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid servant and wilful and pernicious daughter, to be eventually foiled by a very charming woman. But there was one character Mr. Irving would never pervert or misrepresent, and that was his own,” etc.