Everyone now began to criticise. One observed, “that the green curtain was full of holes, and would not draw up.” Another attacked the scenes; “Scenes! they were not like real scenes—Archer must know best, because he was used to these things.” So everybody crowded to hear something of the _other_ playhouse. They gathered round Archer to hear the description of his playhouse, and at every sentence insulting comparisons were made. When he had done, his auditors looked round, sighed and wished that Archer had been their manager. They turned from De Grey as from a person who had done them an injury. Some of his friends—for he had friends who were not swayed by the popular opinion—felt indignation at this ingratitude, and were going to express their feelings; but De Grey stopped them, and begged that he might speak for himself. “Gentlemen,” said he, coming forward, as soon as he felt that he had sufficient command of himself. “My friends, I see you are discontented with me and my playhouse. I have done my best to please you; but if anybody else can please you better, I shall be glad of it. I did not work so hard for the glory of being your manager. You have my free leave to tear down—” Here his voice faltered, but he hurried on—“You have my free leave to tear down all my work as fast as you please. Archer, shake hands first, however, to show that there’s no malice in the case.” Archer, who was touched by what his rival said, and, stopping the hand of his new partisan, Fisher, cried, “No, Fisher! no!—no pulling down. We can alter it. There is a great deal of ingenuity in it, considering.” In vain Archer would now have recalled the public to reason,—the time for reason was passed: enthusiasm had taken hold of their minds. “Down with it! Down with it! Archer for ever!” cried Fisher, and tore down the curtain. The riot once begun, nothing could stop the little mob, till the whole theatre was demolished. The love of power prevailed in the mind of Archer; he was secretly flattered by the zeal of his _party_, and he mistook their love of mischief for attachment to himself. De Grey looked on superior. “I said I could bear to see all this, and I can,” said he; “now it is all over.” And now it was all over, there was silence. The rioters stood still to take breath, and to look at what they had done. There was a blank space before them.