The Barring Out; Or, Party Spirit

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Title:     The Barring Out; Or, Party Spirit
Author: Maria Edgeworth [More Titles by Edgeworth]

"The mother of mischief," says an old proverb, "is no bigger than a midge's wing."

At Doctor Middleton's school, there was a great tall dunce of the name of Fisher, who never could be taught how to look out a word in the dictionary. He used to torment everybody with--"Do pray help me! I can't make out this one word." The person who usually helped him in his distress was a very clever, good natured boy, of the name of De Grey, who had been many years under Dr. Middleton's care, and who, by his abilities and good conduct, did him great credit. The doctor certainly was both proud and fond of him; but he was so well beloved, or so much esteemed by his companions, that nobody had ever called him by the odious name of favourite, until the arrival of a new scholar of the name of Archer.

Till Archer came, the ideas of FAVOURITES and PARTIES were almost unknown at Dr. Middleton's; but he brought all these ideas fresh from a great public school, at which he had been educated--at which he had acquired a sufficient quantity of Greek and Latin, and a superabundant quantity of party spirit. His aim, the moment he came to a new school, was to get to the head of it, or at least to form the strongest party. His influence, for he was a boy of considerable abilities, was quickly felt, though he had a powerful rival, as he thought proper to call him, in De Grey; and, with HIM, a rival was always an enemy. De Grey, so far from giving him any cause of hatred, treated him with a degree of cordiality, which would probably have had an effect upon Archer's mind, if it had not been for the artifices of Fisher.

It may seem surprising, that a GREAT DUNCE should be able to work upon a boy like an Archer, who was called a great genius; but when genius is joined to a violent temper, instead of being united to good sense, it is at the mercy even of dunces.

Fisher was mortally offended one morning by De Grey's refusing to translate his whole lesson for him. He went over to Archer, who, considering him as a partisan deserting from the enemy, received him with open arms, and translated his whole lesson without expressing MUCH contempt for his stupidity. From this moment Fisher forgot all De Grey's former kindness, and considered only how he could in his turn mortify the person whom he felt to be so much his superior.

De Grey and Archer were now reading for a premium, which was to be given in their class. Fisher betted on Archer's head, who had not sense enough to despise the bet of a blockhead. On the contrary he suffered him to excite the spirit of rivalship in its utmost fury by collecting the bets of all the school. So that this premium now became a matter of the greatest consequence, and Archer, instead of taking the means to secure a judgment in his favour, was listening to the opinions of all his companions. It was a prize which was to be won by his own exertions; but he suffered himself to consider it as an affair of chance. The consequence was, that he trusted to chance--his partisans lost their wagers, and he the premium--and his temper.

"Mr. Archer," said Dr. Middleton, after the grand affair was decided, "you have done all that genius alone could do; but you, De Grey, have done all that genius and industry united could do."

"Well!" cried Archer, with affected gaiety, as soon as the doctor had left the room--"Well, I'm content with MY sentence. Genius alone! for me--industry for those who WANT it," added he, with a significant look at De Grey.

Fisher applauded this as a very spirited speech; and, by insinuations that Dr. Middleton "always gave the premium to De Grey," and that "those who had lost their bets might thank themselves for it, for being such simpletons as to bet against the favourite," he raised a murmur highly flattering to Archer, amongst some of the most credulous boys; whilst others loudly proclaimed their belief in Dr. Middleton's impartiality. These warmly congratulated De Grey. At this Archer grew more and more angry, and when Fisher was proceeding to speak nonsense FOR him, pushed forward into the circle to De Grey, crying, "I wish, Mr. Fisher, you would let me fight my own battles!"

"And I wish," said young Townsend, who was fonder of diversions than of premiums, or battles, or of anything else--"I wish, that we were not to have any battles; after having worked like horses, don't set about to fight like dogs. Come," said he, tapping De Grey's shoulder, "let us see your new playhouse, do--it's a holiday, and let us make the most of it. Let us have the 'School for Scandal,' do; and I'll play Charles for you, and you, De Grey, shall be MY LITTLE PREMIUM. Come, do open this new playhouse of yours to-night."

"Come then!" said De Grey, and he ran across the playground to a waste building at the farthest end of it, in which, at the earnest request of the whole community, and with the permission of Dr. Middleton, he had with much pain and ingenuity erected a theatre.

"The new theatre is going to be opened! Follow the manager! Follow the manager!" echoed a multitude of voices.

"FOLLOW THE MANAGER!" echoed very disagreeably in Archer's ear; but as he could not be LEFT ALONE, he was also obliged to follow the manager. The moment that the door was unlocked, the crowd rushed in: the delight and wonder expressed at the sight was great, and the applause and thanks which were bestowed upon the manager were long and loud.

Archer at least thought them long, for he was impatient till his voice could be heard. When at length the acclamations had spent themselves, he walked across the stage with a knowing air, and looking round contemptuously.

"And is THIS your famous playhouse?" cried he. "I wish you had, any of you, seen the playhouse I have been used to?"

These words made a great and visible change in the feelings and opinions of the public. "Who would be a servant of the public? or who would toil for popular applause?" A few words spoken in a decisive tone by a new voice operated as a charm, and the playhouse was in an instant metamorphosed in the eyes of the spectators. All gratitude for the past was forgotten, and the expectation of something better justified to the capricious multitude their disdain of what they had so lately pronounced to be excellent.

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.

In this moment of silence there was heard something like a voice. "Hush! What strange voice is that?" said Archer. Fisher caught fast hold of his arm. Everybody looked round to see where the voice came from. It was dusk. Two window-shutters at the farthest end of the building were seen to move slowly inwards. De Grey, and in the same instant Archer, went forward; and, as the shutters opened, there appeared through the hole the dark face and shrivelled hands of a very old gipsy. She did not speak; but she looked first at one and then at another. At length she fixed her eyes on De Grey. "Well, woman," said he, "what do you want with me?"

"Want!--nothing--with YOU," said the old woman; "do you want nothing with ME?"

"Nothing," said De Grey. Her eye immediately turned upon Archer,--"YOU want something with me," said she, with emphasis.

"I--what do I want?" replied Archer.

"No," said she, changing her tone, "you want nothing--nothing will you ever want, or I am much mistaken in that FACE."

In that WATCH-CHAIN, she should have said, for her quick eye had espied Archer's watch-chain. He was the only person in the company who had a watch, and she therefore judged him to be the richest.

"Had you ever your fortune told, sir, in your life?"

"Not I!" said he, looking at De Grey, as if he was afraid of his ridicule, if he listened to the gipsy.

"Not you! No! for you will make your own fortune, and the fortune of all that belong to you!"

"There's good news for my friends!" cried Archer.

"And I'm one of them, remember that," cried Fisher. "And I," "And I," joined a number of voices.

"Good luck to them!" cried the gipsy, "good luck to them all!"

Then, as soon as they had acquired sufficient confidence in her good will, they pressed up to the window. "There," cried Townsend, as he chanced to stumble over the carpenter's mitre box, which stood in the way, "there's a good omen for me. I've stumbled on the mitre box; I shall certainly be a bishop."

Happy he who had sixpence, for he bid fair to be a judge upon the bench. And happier he who had a shilling, for he was in the high road to be one day upon the woolsack, Lord High Chancellor of England. No one had half a crown, or no one would surely have kept it in his pocket upon such an occasion, for he might have been an archbishop, a king, or what he pleased.

Fisher, who like all weak people was extremely credulous, kept his post immovable in the front row all the time, his mouth open, and his stupid eyes fixed upon the gipsy, in whom he felt implicit faith.

Those who have least confidence in their own powers, and who have least expectation from the success of their own exertions, are always most disposed to trust in fortune-tellers and fortune. They hope to WIN, when they cannot EARN; and as they can never be convinced by those who speak sense, it is no wonder they are always persuaded by those who talk nonsense.

"I have a question to put," said Fisher, in a solemn tone.

"Put it, then," said Archer, "what hinders you?"

"But they will hear me," said he, looking suspiciously at De Grey.

"I shall not hear you," said De Grey, "I am going." Everybody else drew back, and left him to whisper his question in the gipsy's ear.

"What is become of my Livy?"

"Your SISTER Livy, do you mean?" said the gipsy.

"No, my LATIN Livy."

The gipsy paused for information. "It had a leaf torn out in the beginning, and I HATE DR. MIDDLETON--"

"Written in it," interrupted the gipsy.

"Right--the very book!" cried Fisher with joy. "But how COULD you know it was Dr. Middleton's name? I thought I had scratched it, so that nobody could make it out."

"Nobody COULD make it out but ME," replied the gipsy. "But never think to deceive me," said she, shaking her head at him in a manner that made him tremble.

"I don't deceive you indeed, I tell you the whole truth. I lost it a week ago."

"True."

"And when shall I find it?"

"Meet me here at this hour to-morrow evening, and I will answer you. No more! I must be gone. Not a word more to-night."

She pulled the shutters towards her, and left the youth in darkness. All his companions were gone. He had been so deeply engaged in this conference, that he had not perceived their departure. He found all the world at supper, but no entreaties could prevail upon him to disclose his secret. Townsend rallied in vain. As for Archer, he was not disposed to destroy by ridicule the effect which he saw that the old woman's predictions in his favour had had upon the imagination of many of his little partisans. He had privately slipped two good shillings into the gipsy's hand to secure her; for he was willing to pay any price for ANY means of acquiring power.

The watch-chain had not deceived the gipsy, for Archer was the richest person in the community. His friends had imprudently supplied him with more money than is usually trusted to boys of his age. Dr. Middleton had refused to give him a larger monthly allowance than the rest of his companions; but he brought to school with him secretly the sum of five guineas. This appeared to his friends and to himself an inexhaustible treasure.

Riches and talents would, he flattered himself, secure to him that ascendancy of which he was so ambitious. "Am I your manager, or not?" was now his question. "I scorn to take advantage of a hasty moment; but since last night you have had time to consider. If you desire me to be your manager, you shall see what a theatre I will make for you. In this purse," said he, showing through the network a glimpse of the shining treasure--"in this purse is Aladdin's wonderful lamp. Am I your manager? Put it to the vote."

It was put to the vote. About ten of the most reasonable of the assembly declared their gratitude and high approbation of their old friend, De Grey; but the numbers were in favour of the new friend. And as no metaphysical distinctions relative to the idea of a majority had ever entered their thoughts, the most numerous party considered themselves as now beyond dispute in the right. They drew off on one side in triumph, and their leader, who knew the consequence of a name in party matters, immediately distinguished his partisans by the gallant name of ARCHERS, stigmatizing the friends of De Grey by the odious epithet of Greybeards.

Amongst the Archers was a class not very remarkable for their mental qualifications; but who, by their bodily activity, and by the peculiar advantages annexed to their way of life, rendered themselves of the highest consequence, especially to the rich and enterprising.

The judicious reader will apprehend that I allude to the persons called day scholars. Amongst these, Fisher was distinguished by his knowledge of all the streets and shops in the adjacent town; and, though a dull scholar, he had such reputation as a man of business, that whoever had commissions to execute at the confectioner's, was sure to apply to him. Some of the youngest of his employers had, it is true, at times complained that he made mistakes of halfpence and pence in their accounts; but as these affairs could never be brought to a public trial, Fisher's character and consequence were undiminished, till the fatal day when his Aunt Barbara forbade his visits to the confectioner's; or, rather, till she requested the confectioner, who had his private reasons for obeying her, not TO RECEIVE her nephew's visits, as he had made himself sick at his house, and Mrs. Barbara's fears for his health were incessant.

Though his visits to the confectioner's were thus at an end, there were many other shops open to him; and with officious zeal he offered his services to the new manager, to purchase whatever might be wanting for the theatre.

Since his father's death Fisher had become a boarder at Dr. Middleton's, but his frequent visits to his Aunt Barbara afforded him opportunities of going into the town. The carpenter, De Grey's friend, was discarded by Archer, for having said "LACK-A-DAISY!" when he saw that the old theatre was pulled down. A new carpenter and paper hanger, recommended by Fisher, were appointed to attend, with their tools, for orders, at two o'clock. Archer, impatient to show his ingenuity and his generosity, gave his plan and his orders in a few minutes, in a most decided manner; "These things," he observed, "should be done with some spirit."

To which the carpenter readily assented, and added, that "gentlemen of spirit never looked to the EXPENSE, but always to the EFFECT." Upon this principle Mr. Chip set to work with all possible alacrity. In a few hours' time he promised to produce a grand effect. High expectations were formed. Nothing was talked of but the new playhouse; and so intent upon it was every head, that no lessons could be got. Archer was obliged, in the midst of his various occupations, to perform the part of grammar and dictionary for twenty different people.

"O ye Athenians!" he exclaimed, "how hard do I work to obtain your praise!"

Impatient to return to the theatre, the moment the hours destined for instruction, or, as they are termed by schoolboys, school-hours, were over, each prisoner started up with a shout of joy.

"Stop one moment, gentlemen, if you please," said Dr. Middleton, in an awful voice. "Mr. Archer, return to your place. Are you all here?" The names of all the boys were called over, and when each had answered to his name, Dr. Middleton said--

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to interrupt your amusements; but, till you have contrary orders from me, no one, on pain of my serious displeasure, must go into THAT building" (pointing to the place where the theatre was erecting). "Mr. Archer, your carpenter is at the door. You will be so good as to dismiss him. I do not think proper to give my reasons for these orders; but you who KNOW me," said the doctor, and his eye turned towards De Grey, "will not suspect me of caprice. I depend, gentlemen, upon your obedience."

To the dead silence with which these orders were received, succeeded in a few minutes a universal groan. "So!" said Townsend, "all our diversion is over." "So," whispered Fisher in the manager's ear, "this is some trick of the Greybeard's. Did you not observe how he looked at De Grey?"

Fired by this thought, which had never entered his mind before, Archer started from his reverie, and striking his hand upon the table, swore that he "would not be outwitted by any Greybeard in Europe--no, nor by all of them put together. The Archers were surely a match for them. He would stand by them, if they would stand by him," he declared, with a loud voice, "against the whole world, and Dr. Middleton himself, with 'LITTLE PREMIUMS' at his right hand."

Everybody admired Archer's spirit, but were a little appalled at the sound of standing against Dr. Middleton.

"Why not?" resumed the indignant manager. "Neither Dr. Middleton nor any doctor upon earth shall treat me with injustice. This, you see, is a stroke at me and my party, and I won't bear it."

"Oh, you are mistaken!" said De Grey, who was the only one who dared to oppose reason to the angry orator. "It cannot be a stroke aimed at 'you and your party,' for he does not know that you HAVE a party."

"I'll make him know it, and I'll make YOU know it, too," said Archer. "Before I came here you reigned alone, now your reign is over, Mr. De Grey. Remember my majority this morning, and your theatre last night."

"He has remembered it," said Fisher. "You see, the moment he was not to be our manager, we were to have no theatre, no playhouse, no plays. We must all sit down with our hands before us--all for 'GOOD REASONS' of Dr. Middleton's, which he does not vouchsafe to tell us."

"I won't be governed by any man's reasons that he won't tell me," cried Archer. "He cannot have good reasons, or why not tell them?"

"Nonsense!" said De Grey. "WE SHALL NOT SUSPECT HIM OF CAPRICE!"

"Why not?"

"Because we who know him, have never known him capricious."

"Perhaps not. I know nothing about him," said Archer.

"No," said De Grey; "for that very reason I speak who do know him. Don't be in a passion, Archer."

"I will be in a passion. I won't submit to tyranny. I won't be made a fool of by a few soft words. You don't know me, De Grey. I'll go through with what I've begun. I am manager, and I will be manager; and you shall see my theatre finished in spite of you, and MY party triumphant."

"Party," repeated De Grey. "I cannot imagine what is in the word 'party' that seems to drive you mad. We never heard of parties till you came amongst us."

"No; before I came, I say, nobody dared oppose you; but I dare; and I tell you to your face, take care of me--a warm friend and a bitter enemy is my motto."

"I am not your enemy! I believe you are out of your senses, Archer!" said he, laughing.

"Out of my senses! No; you are my enemy! Are you not my rival? Did not you win the premium? Did not you want to be manager? Answer me, are not you, in one word, a Greybeard?"

"You called me a Greybeard, but my name is De Grey," said he, still laughing.

"Laugh on!" cried the other, furiously. "Come, ARCHERS, follow me. WE shall laugh by-and-by, I promise you." At the door Archer was stopped by Mr. Chip. "Oh, Mr. Chip, I am ordered to discharge you."

"Yes, sir; and here's a little bill--"

"Bill, Mr. Chip! why, you have not been at work for two hours!"

"Not much over, sir; but if you'll please to look into it, you'll see 'tis for a few things you ordered. The stuff is all laid out and delivered. The paper and the festoon-bordering for the drawing room scene is cut out, and left yAnder within."

"YAnder, within! I wish you had not been in such a confounded hurry-- six-and-twenty shillings!" cried he; "but I can't stay to talk about it now. I'll tell you, Mr. Chip," said Archer, lowering his voice, "what you must do for me, my good fellow."

Then, drawing Mr. Chip aside, he begged him to pull down some of the wood work which had been put up, and to cut it into a certain number of wooden bars, of which he gave him the dimensions, with orders to place them all, when ready, under a haystack, which he pointed out.

Mr. Chip scrupled and hesitated, and began to talk of "THE DOCTOR." Archer immediately began to talk of the bill, and throwing down a guinea and a half, the conscientious carpenter pocketed the money directly, and made his bow.

"Well, Master Archer," said he, "there's no refusing you nothing. You have such a way of talking one out of it. You manage me just like a child."

"Ay, ay!" said Archer, knowing that he had been cheated, and yet proud of managing a carpenter, "ay, ay! I know the way to manage everybody. Let the things be ready in an hour's time, and hark'e! leave your tools by mistake behind you, and a thousand of twenty-penny nails. Ask no questions, and keep your own counsel like a wise man. Off with you, and take care of 'THE DOCTOR.'"

"Archers, Archers, to the Archers' tree! Follow your leader," cried he, sounding his well known whistle as a signal. His followers gathered round him, and he, raising himself upon the mount at the foot of the tree, counted his numbers, and then, in a voice lower than usual, addressed them thus:--"My friends, is there a Greybeard amongst us? If there is, let him walk off at once, he has my free leave." No one stirred. "Then we are all Archers, and we will stand by one another. Join hands, my friends." They all joined hands. "Promise me not to betray me, and I will go on. I ask no security but your honour." They all gave their honour to be secret and FAITHFUL, as he called it, and he went on. "Did you ever hear of such a thing as a 'BARRING OUT,' my friends?" They had heard of such a thing, but they had only heard of it.

Archer gave the history of a "Barring Out," in which he had been concerned at his school, in which the boys stood out against the master, and gained their point at last, which was a week's more holidays at Easter.* "But if WE should not succeed," said they, "Dr. Middleton is so steady; he never goes back from what he has said."

"Did you ever try to push him back? Let us be steady and he'll tremble. Tyrants always tremble when--"

"Oh," interrupted a number of voices; "but he is not a tyrant--is he?"

"All schoolmasters are tyrants--are not they?" replied Archer; "and is not he a schoolmaster?"

To this logic there was no answer; but, still reluctant, they asked, "What they should GET by a Barring Out?"

"Get!--everything!--what we want!--which is everything to lads of spirit- -victory and liberty! Bar him out till he repeals his tyrannical law; till he lets us into our own theatre again, or till he tells us his 'GOOD REASONS' against it."

"But perhaps he has reasons for not telling us."

"Impossible!" cried Archer, "that's the way we are always to be governed by a man in a wig, who says he has good reasons, and can't tell them. Are you fools? Go! go back to De Grey! I see you are all Greybeards. Go! Who goes first?" Nobody would go FIRST. "I will have nothing to do with ye, if ye are resolved to be slaves!" "We won't be slaves!" they all exclaimed at once. "Then," said Archer, "stand out in the right and be free."

*[This custom of "BARRING OUT" was very general (especially in the northern parts of England) during the 17th and 18th centuries, and it has been fully described by Brand and other antiquarian writers.

Dr. Johnson mentions that Addison, while under the tuition of Mr. Shaw, master of the Lichfield Grammar School, led, and successfully conducted, "a plan for BARRING OUT his master. A disorderly privilege," says the doctor, "which, in his time, prevailed in the principal seminaries of education."

In the Gentleman's Magazine of 1828, Dr. P. A. Nuttall, under the signature of II. A. N., has given a spirited sketch of a "BARRING OUT" at the Ormskirk Grammar School, which has since been republished at length (though without acknowledgment), by Sir Henry Ellis, in Bohn's recent edition of Brand's "Popular Antiquities." This operation took place early in the present century, and is interesting from its being, perhaps, the last attempt on record, and also from the circumstance of the writer himself having been one of the juvenile leaders in the daring adventure, "quo rum pars magna fuit,"--Ed.]

"THE RIGHT." It would have taken up too much time to examine what "THE RIGHT" was. Archer was always sure that "THE RIGHT" was what his party chose to do; that is, what he chose to do himself; and such is the influence of numbers upon each other, in conquering the feelings of shame and in confusing the powers of reasoning, that in a few minutes "the right" was forgotten, and each said to himself, "To be sure, Archer is a very clever boy, and he can't be mistaken"; or, "to be sure, Townsend thinks so, and he would not do anything to get us into a scrape"; or, "to be sure, everybody will agree to this but myself, and I can't stand out alone, to be pointed at as a Greybeard and a slave. Everybody thinks it is right, and everybody can't be wrong."

By some of these arguments, which passed rapidly through the mind without his being conscious of them, each boy decided, and deceived himself--what none would have done alone, none scrupled to do as a party. It was determined, then, that there should be a Barring Out. The arrangement of the affair was left to their new manager, to whom they all pledged implicit obedience. Obedience, it seems, is necessary, even from rebels to their ringleaders; not reasonable, but implicit obedience.

Scarcely had the assembly adjourned to the Ball-alley, when Fisher, with an important length of face, came up to the manager, and desired to speak one word to him. "My advice to you, Archer, is, to do nothing in this till we have consulted, YOU KNOW WHO, about whether it's right or wrong."

"'YOU KNOW WHO!' Whom do you mean? Make haste, and don't make so many faces, for I'm in a hurry. Who is 'YOU KNOW WHO?'"

"The old woman," said Fisher, gravely; "the gipsy."

"You may consult the old woman," said Archer, bursting out a-laughing, "about what's right and wrong, if you please; but no old woman shall decide for me."

"No; but you don't TAKE me," said Fisher; "you don't TAKE me. By right and wrong, I mean lucky and unlucky."

"Whatever I do will be lucky," replied Archer. "My gipsy told you that already."

"I know, I know," said Fisher, "and what she said about your friends being lucky--that went a great way with many," added he, with a sagacious nod of his head; "I can tell you THAT--more than you think. Do you know," said he, laying hold of Archer's button, "I'm in the secret. There are nine of us have crooked our little fingers upon it, not to stir a step till we get her advice; and she has appointed me to meet her about particular business of my own at eight. So I'm to consult her and to bring her answer."

Archer knew too well how to govern fools, to attempt to reason with them; and, instead of laughing any longer at Fisher's ridiculous superstition, he was determined to take advantage of it. He affected to be persuaded of the wisdom of the measure; looked at his watch; urged him to be exact to a moment; conjured him to remember exactly the words of the oracle; and, above all things, to demand the lucky hour and minute when the Barring Out should begin. With these instructions Archer put his watch into the solemn dupe's hand, and left him to count the seconds, till the moment of his appointment, whilst he ran off himself to prepare the oracle.

At a little gate which looked into a lane, through which he guessed that the gipsy must pass, he stationed himself, saw her, gave her half a crown and her instructions, made his escape, and got back unsuspected to Fisher, whom he found in the attitude in which he had left him, watching the motion of the minute hand.

Proud of his secret commission, Fisher slouched his hat, he knew not why, over his face, and proceeded towards the appointed spot. To keep, as he had been charged by Archer, within the letter of the law, he stood BEHIND the forbidden building, and waited some minutes.

Through a gap in the hedge the old woman at length made her appearance, muffled up, and looking cautiously about her. "There's nobody near us!" said Fisher, and he began to be a little afraid. "What answer," said he, recollecting himself, "about my Livy?"

"Lost! lost! lost!" said the gipsy, lifting up her hands; "never, never, never to be found! But no matter for that now; that is not your errand to-night; no tricks with me; speak to me of what is next your heart."

Fisher, astonished, put his hand upon his heart, told her all that she knew before, and received the answers that Archer had dictated: "That the Archers should be lucky as long as they stuck to their manager, and to one another; that the Barring Out should end in woe, if not begun precisely as the clock should strike nine on Wednesday night; but if begun in that LUCKY moment, and all obedient to their LUCKY leader, all should end well."

A thought, a provident thought, now struck Fisher; for even he had some foresight where his favourite passion was concerned. "Pray, in our Barring Out shall we be starved?"

"No," said the gipsy, "not if you trust to me for food, and if you give me money enough. Silver won't do for so many; gold is what must cross my hand."

"I have no gold," said Fisher, "and I don't know what you mean by 'so many.' I'm only talking of number one, you know. I must take care of that first."

So, as Fisher thought it was possible that Archer, clever as he was, might be disappointed in his supplies, he determined to take secret measures for himself. His Aunt Barbara's interdiction had shut him out of the confectioner's shop; but he flattered himself that he could outwit his aunt; he therefore begged the gipsy to procure him twelve buns by Thursday morning, and bring them secretly to one of the windows of the schoolroom.

As Fisher did not produce any money when he made this proposal, it was at first absolutely rejected; but a bribe at length conquered his difficulties; and the bribe which Fisher found himself obliged to give-- for he had no pocket money left of his own, he being as much RESTRICTED in that article as Archer was INDULGED--the bribe that he found himself obliged to give to quiet the gipsy was half a crown, which Archer had intrusted to him to buy candles for the theatre. "Oh," thought he to himself; "Archer's so careless about money, he will never think of asking me for the half-crown again; and now he'll want no candles for the THEATRE; or, at anyrate, it will be some time first; and maybe, Aunt Barbara may be got to give me that much at Christmas; then, if the worst comes to the worst, one can pay Archer. My mouth waters for the buns, and have 'em I must now."

So, for the hope of twelve buns, he sacrificed the money which had been intrusted to him. Thus the meanest motives, in mean minds often prompt to the commission of those great faults, to which one should think nothing but some violent passion could have tempted.

The ambassador having thus, in his opinion, concluded his own and the public business, returned well satisfied with the result, after receiving the gipsy's reiterated promise to tap THREE TIMES at the window on Thursday morning.

The day appointed for the Barring Out at length arrived; and Archer, assembling the confederates, informed them, that all was prepared for carrying their design into execution; that he now depended for success upon their punctuality and courage. He had, within the last two hours, got all their bars ready to fasten the doors and window shutters of the schoolroom; he had, with the assistance of two of the day scholars who were of the party, sent into the town for provisions, at his own expense, which would make a handsome supper for that night; he had also negotiated with some cousins of his, who lived in the town, for a constant supply in future. "Bless me," exclaimed Archer, suddenly stopping in this narration of his services, "there's one thing, after all, I've forgot, we shall be undone without it. Fisher, pray did you ever buy the candles for the playhouse?"

"No, to be sure," replied Fisher, extremely frightened; "you know you don't want candles for the playhouse now."

"Not for the playhouse, but for the Barring Out. We shall be in the dark, man. You must run this minute, run."

"For candles?" said Fisher, confused; "how many?--what sort?"

"Stupidity!" exclaimed Archer, "you are a pretty fellow at a dead lift! Lend me a pencil and a bit of paper, do; I'll write down what I want myself! Well, what are you fumbling for?"

"For money!" said Fisher, colouring.

"Money, man! Didn't I give you half a crown the other day?"

"Yes," replied Fisher, stammering; "but I wasn't sure that that might be enough."

"Enough! yes, to be sure it will. I don't know what you are AT."

"Nothing, nothing," said Fisher, "here, write upon this, then," said Fisher, putting a piece of paper into Archer's hand, upon which Archer wrote his orders. "Away, away!" cried he.

Away went Fisher. He returned; but not until a considerable time afterwards. They were at supper when he returned. "Fisher always comes in at supper-time," observed one of the Greybeards, carelessly.

"Well, and would you have him come in AFTER supper-time?" said Townsend, who always supplied his party with ready wit.

"I've got the candles," whispered Fisher as he passed by Archer to his place.

"And the tinder-box?" said Archer.

"Yes; I got back from my Aunt Barbara under pretence that I must study for repetition day an hour later to-night. So I got leave. Was not that clever?"

A dunce always thinks it clever to cheat even by SOBER LIES. How Mr. Fisher procured the candles and the tinder box without money, and without credit, we shall discover further on.

Archer and his associates had agreed to stay the last in the schoolroom; and as soon as the Greybeards were gone out to bed, he, as the signal, was to shut and lock one door, Townsend the other. A third conspirator was to strike a light, in case they should not be able to secure a candle. A fourth was to take charge of the candle as soon as lighted; and all the rest were to run to their bars, which were secreted in a room; then to fix them to the common fastening bars of the window, in the manner in which they had been previously instructed by the manager. Thus each had his part assigned, and each was warned that the success of the whole depended upon their order and punctuality.

Order and punctuality, it appears, are necessary even in a Barring Out; and even rebellion must have its laws.

The long expected moment at length arrived. De Grey and his friends, unconscious of what was going forward, walked out of the schoolroom as usual at bedtime. The clock began to strike nine. There was one Greybeard left in the room, who was packing up some of his books, which had been left about by accident. It is impossible to describe the impatience with which he was watched, especially by Fisher, and the nine who depended upon the gipsy oracle.

When he had got all his books together under his arm, he let one of them fall; and whilst he stooped to pick it up, Archer gave the signal. The doors were shut, locked, and double-locked in an instant. A light was struck and each ran to his post. The bars were all in the same moment put up to the windows, and Archer, when he had tried them all, and seen that they were secure, gave a loud "Huzza!"--in which he was joined by all the party most manfully--by all but the poor Greybeard, who, the picture of astonishment, stood stock still in the midst of them with his books under his arm; at which spectacle Townsend, who enjoyed the FROLIC of the fray more than anything else, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. "So, my little Greybeard," said he, holding a candle full in his eyes, "what think you of all this?--How came you amongst the wicked ones?"

"I don't know, indeed," said the little boy, very gravely: "you shut me up amongst you. Won't you let me out?"

"Let you out! No, no, my little Greybeard," said Archer, catching hold of him, and dragging him to the window bars. "Look ye here--touch these- -put your hand to them--pull, push, kick--put a little spirit into it, man--kick like an Archer, if you can; away with ye. It's a pity that the king of the Greybeards is not here to admire me. I should like to show him our fortifications. But come, my merry men all, now to the feast. Out with the table into the middle of the room. Good cheer, my jolly Archers! I'm your manager!"

Townsend, delighted with the bustle, rubbed his hands, and capered about the room, whilst the preparations for the feast were hurried forward. "Four candles!--Four candles on the table. Let's have things in style when we are about it, Mr. Manager," cried Townsend. "Places!--Places! There's nothing like a fair scramble, my boys. Let everyone take care of himself. Hallo! Greybeard, I've knocked Greybeard down here in the scuffle. Get up again, my lad, and see a little life."

"No, no," cried Fisher, "he sha'n't SUP with us."

"No, no," cried the manager, "he shan't LIVE with us; a Greybeard is not fit company for Archers."

"No, no," cried Townsend, "evil communication corrupts good manners."

So with one unanimous hiss they hunted the poor little gentle boy into a corner; and having pent him up with benches, Fisher opened his books for him, which he thought the greatest mortification, and set up a candle beside him--"There, now he looks like a Greybeard as he is!" cried they. "Tell me what's the Latin for cold roast beef?" said Fisher, exultingly, and they returned to their feast.

Long and loud they revelled. They had a few bottles of cider. "Give me the corkscrew, the cider sha'n't be kept till it's sour," cried Townsend, in answer to the manager, who, when he beheld the provisions vanishing with surprising rapidity, began to fear for the morrow. "Hang to- morrow!" cried Townsend, "let Greybeards think of to-morrow; Mr. Manager, here's your good health."

The Archers all stood up as their cups were filled to drink the health of their chief with a universal cheer. But at the moment that the cups were at their lips, and as Archer bowed to thank the company, a sudden shower from above astonished the whole assembly. They looked up, and beheld the rose of a watering-engine, whose long neck appeared through a trap door in the ceiling. "Your good health, Mr. Manager!" said a voice, which was known to be the gardener's; and in the midst of their surprise and dismay the candles were suddenly extinguished; the trap-door shut down; and they were left in utter darkness.

"The DEVIL!" said Archer."

"Don't swear, Mr. Manager," said the same voice from the ceiling, "I hear every word you say."

"Mercy upon us!" exclaimed Fisher. "The clock," added he, whispering, "must have been wrong, for it had not done striking when we began. Only, you remember, Archer, it had just done before you had done locking your door."

"Hold your tongue, blockhead!" said Archer. "Well, boys! were ye never in the dark before? You are not afraid of a shower of rain, I hope. Is anybody drowned?"

"No," said they, with a faint laugh, "but what shall we do here in the dark all night long, and all day to-morrow? We can't unbar the shutters."

"It's a wonder NOBODY ever thought of the trap-door!" said Townsend.

The trap-door had indeed escaped the manager's observation. As the house was new to him, and the ceiling being newly white-washed, the opening was scarcely perceptible. Vexed to be out-generalled, and still more vexed to have it remarked, Archer poured forth a volley of incoherent exclamations and reproaches against those who were thus so soon discouraged by a trifle; and groping for the tinder-box, he asked if anything could be easier than to strike a light again.* The light appeared. But at the moment that it made the tinder-box visible, another shower from above, aimed, and aimed exactly, at the tinder-box, drenched it with water, and rendered it totally unfit for further service. Archer in a fury dashed it to the ground. And now for the first time he felt what it was to be the unsuccessful head of a party. He heard in his turn the murmurs of a discontented, changeable populace; and recollecting all his bars and bolts, and ingenious contrivances, he was more provoked at their blaming him for this one only oversight than he was grieved at the disaster itself.

*Lucifer matches were then unknown.--Ed.

"Oh, my hair is all wet!" cried one, dolefully.

"Wring it, then," said Archer.

"My hand's cut with your broken glass," cried another.

"Glass!" cried a third; "mercy! is there broken glass? and it's all about, I suppose, amongst the supper; and I had but one bit of bread all the time."

"Bread!" cried Archer; "eat if you want it. Here's a piece here, and no glass near it."

"It's all wet, and I don't like dry bread by itself; that's no feast."

"Heigh-day! What, nothing but moaning and grumbling! If these are the joys of a Barring Out," cried Townsend, "I'd rather be snug in my bed. I expected that we should have sat up till twelve o'clock, talking, and laughing, and singing."

"So you may still; what hinders you?" said Archer. "Sing, and we'll join you, and I should be glad those fellows overhead heard us singing. Begin, Townsend--

"'Come now, all ye social Powers,
Spread your influence o'er us'--

Or else--

"'Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never will be slaves.'"

Nothing can be more melancholy than forced merriment. In vain they roared in chorus. In vain they tried to appear gay. It would not do. The voices died away, and dropped off one by one. They had each provided himself with a great-coat to sleep upon; but now, in the dark, there was a peevish scrambling contest for the coats, and half the company, in very bad humour, stretched themselves upon the benches for the night.

There is great pleasure in bearing anything that has the appearance of hardship as long as there is any glory to be acquired by it: but when people feel themselves foiled, there is no further pleasure in endurance; and if, in their misfortune, there is any mixture of the ridiculous, the motives for heroism are immediately destroyed. Dr. Middleton had probably considered this in the choice he made of his first attack.

Archer, who had spent the night as a man who had the cares of government upon his shoulders, rose early in the morning, whilst everybody else was fast asleep. In the night he had resolved the affair of the trap-door, and a new danger had alarmed him. It was possible that the enemy might descend upon them through the trap-door. The room had been built high to admit a free circulation of air. It was twenty feet, so that it was in vain to think of reaching to the trap-door.

As soon as the daylight appeared, Archer rose softly, that he might RECONNOITRE, and devise some method of guarding against this new danger. Luckily there were round holes in the top of the window-shutters, which admitted sufficient light for him to work by. The remains of the soaked feast, wet candles, and broken glass spread over the table in the middle of the room, looked rather dismal this morning.

'A pretty set of fellows I have to manage!" said Archer, contemplating the group of sleepers before him. "It is well they have somebody to think for them. Now if I wanted--which, thank goodness, I don't--but if I did want to call a cabinet council to my assistance, whom could I pitch upon? not this stupid snorer, who is dreaming of gipsies, if he is dreaming of anything," continued Archer, as he looked into Fisher's open mouth. "This next chap is quick enough; but, then, he is so fond of having everything his own way. And this curl pated monkey, who is grinning in his sleep, is all tongue and no brains. Here are brains, though nobody would think it, in this lump," said he, looking at a fat, rolled up, heavy breathing sleeper; "but what signify brains to such a lazy dog? I might kick him for my football this half hour before I should get him awake. This lank jawed harlequin beside him is a handy fellow, to be sure; but, then, if he has hands, he has no head--and he'd be afraid of his own shadow too, by this light, he is such a coward! And Townsend, why, he has puns in plenty; but, when there's any work to be done, he's the worst fellow to be near one in the world--he can do nothing but laugh at his own puns. This poor little fellow that we hunted into the corner has more sense than all of them put together; but then he is a Greybeard."

Thus speculated the chief of a party upon his sleeping friends. And how did it happen that he should be so ambitious to please and govern this set, when, for each individual of which it was composed, he felt such supreme contempt? He had formed them into a PARTY, had given them a name, and he was at their head. If these be not good reasons, none better can be assigned for Archer's conduct.

"I wish ye could all sleep on," said he; "but I must waken ye, though you will be only in my way. The sound of my hammering must waken them; so I may as well do the thing handsomely, and flatter some of them by pretending to ask their advice."

Accordingly, he pulled two or three to waken them. "Come, Townsend, waken, my boy! Here's some diversion for you--up! up!"

"Diversion!" cried Townsend; "I'm your man! I'm up--UP TO ANYTHING."

So, under the name of DIVERSION, Archer set Townsend to work at four o'clock in the morning. They had nails, a few tools, and several spars, still left from the wreck of the playhouse. These, by Archer's directions, they sharpened at one end, and nailed them to the ends of several forms.

All hands were now called to clear away the supper things, to erect these forms perpendicularly under the trap-door; and with the assistance of a few braces, a chevaux-de-frise was formed, upon which nobody could venture to descend. At the farthest end of the room they likewise formed a penthouse of the tables, under which they proposed to breakfast, secure from the pelting storm, if it should again assail them through the trap- door. They crowded under the penthouse as soon as it was ready, and their admiration of its ingenuity paid the workmen for the job.

"Lord! I shall like to see the gardener's phiz through the trap-door, when he beholds the spikes under him!" cried Townsend. "Now for breakfast!"

"Ay, now for breakfast," said Archer, looking at his watch; "past eight o'clock, and my town boys not come! I don't understand this!"

Archer had expected a constant supply of provisions from two boys who lived in the town, who were cousins of his, and who had promised to come every day, and put food in at a certain hole in the wall, in which a ventilator usually turned. This ventilator Archer had taken down, and had contrived it so that it could be easily removed and replaced at pleasure; but, upon examination, it was now perceived that the hole had been newly stopped up by an iron back, which it was impossible to penetrate or remove.

"It never came into my head that anybody would ever have thought of the ventilator but myself!" exclaimed Archer, in great perplexity. He listened and waited for his cousins; but no cousins came, and at a late hour the company were obliged to breakfast upon the scattered fragments of the last night's feast. That feast had been spread with such imprudent profusion, that little now remained to satisfy the hungry guests.

Archer, who well knew the effect which the apprehension of a scarcity would have upon his associates, did everything that could be done by a bold countenance and reiterated assertions to persuade them that his cousins would certainly come at last and that the supplies were only delayed. The delay, however, was alarming.

Fisher alone heard the manager's calculations and saw the public fears unmoved. Secretly rejoicing in his own wisdom, he walked from window to window, slily listening for the gipsy's signal. "There it is!" cried he with more joy sparkling in his eyes than had ever enlightened them before. "Come this way, Archer; but don't tell anybody. Hark! do ye hear those three taps at the window? This is the old woman with twelve buns for me. I'll give you one whole one for yourself, if you will unbar the window for me."

"Unbar the window!" interrupted Archer; "no, that I won't, for you or the gipsy either; but I have heard enough to get your buns without that. But stay; there is something of more consequence than your twelve buns. I must think for ye all, I see, regularly."

So he summoned a council, and proposed that everyone should subscribe, and trust the subscription to the gipsy, to purchase a fresh supply of provisions. Archer laid down a guinea of his own money for his subscription; at which sight all the company clapped their hands, and his popularity rose to a high pitch with their renewed hopes of plenty. Now, having made a list of their wants, they folded the money in the paper, put it into a bag, which Archer tied to a long string, and, having broken the pane of glass behind the round hole in the window-shutter, he let down the bag to the gipsy. She promised to be punctual, and having filled the bag with Fisher's twelve buns, they were drawn up in triumph, and everybody anticipated the pleasure with which they should see the same bag drawn up at dinner-time. The buns were a little squeezed in being drawn through the hole in the window-shutter; but Archer immediately sawed out a piece of the shutter, and broke the corresponding panes in each of the other windows, to prevent suspicion, and to make it appear that they had all been broken to admit air.

What a pity that so much ingenuity should have been employed to no purpose!

It may have surprised the intelligent reader that the gipsy was so punctual to her promise to Fisher, but we must recollect that her apparent integrity was only cunning; she was punctual that she might be employed again, that she might be intrusted with the contribution which, she foresaw, must be raised amongst the famishing garrison. No sooner had she received the money than her end was gained.

Dinner-time came; it struck three, four, five, six. They listened with hungry ears, but no signal was heard. The morning had been very long, and Archer had in vain tried to dissuade them from devouring the remainder of the provisions before they were sure of a fresh supply. And now those who had been the most confident were the most impatient of their disappointment.

Archer, in the division of the food, had attempted, by the most scrupulous exactness, to content the public, and he was both astonished and provoked to perceive that his impartiality was impeached. So differently do people judge in different situations! He was the first person to accuse his master of injustice, and the least capable of bearing such an imputation upon himself from others. He now experienced some of the joys of power, and the delight of managing unreasonable numbers.

"Have not I done everything I could to please you? Have not I spent my money to buy you food? Have not I divided the last morsel with you? I have not tasted one mouthful today! Did not I set to work for you at sunrise? Did not I lie awake all night for you? Have not I had all the labour, and all the anxiety? Look round and see MY contrivances, MY work, MY generosity! And, after all, you think me a tyrant, because I want you to have common sense. Is not this bun which I hold in my hand my own? Did not I earn it by my own ingenuity from that selfish dunce" (pointing to Fisher), "who could never have gotten one of his twelve buns, if I had not shown him how? Eleven of them he has eaten since morning for his own share, without offering anyone a morsel; but I scorn to eat even what is justly my own, when I see so many hungry creatures longing for it. I was not going to touch this last morsel myself. I only begged you to keep it till supper-time, when perhaps you'll want it more, and Townsend, who can't bear the slightest thing that crosses his own whims, and who thinks there's nothing in this world to be minded but his own diversion, calls me a TYRANT. You all of you promised to obey me. The first thing I ask you to do for your own good, and when, if you had common sense, you must know I can want nothing but your good, you rebel against me. Traitors! fools! ungrateful fools!"

Archer walked up and down, unable to command his emotion, whilst, for the moment, the discontented multitude was silenced.

"Here," said he, striking his hand upon the little boy's shoulder, "here's the only one amongst you who has not uttered one word of reproach or complaint, and he has had but one bit of bread--a bit that I gave him myself this day. Here!" said he, snatching the bun, which nobody had dared to touch, "take it--it's mine--I give it to you, though you are a Greybeard; you deserve it. Eat it, and be an Archer. You shall be my captain; will you?" said he, lifting him up in his arm above the rest.

"I like you now," said the little boy, courageously; "but I love De Grey better; he has always been my friend, and he advised me never to call myself any of those names, Archer or Greybeard; so I won't. Though I am shut in here, I have nothing to do with it. I love Dr. Middleton; he was never unjust to ME, and I daresay that he has very good reasons, as De Grey said, for forbidding us to go into that house. Besides, it's his own."

Instead of admiring the good sense and steadiness of this little lad, Archer suffered Townsend to snatch the untasted bun out of his hands. He flung it at a hole in the window, but it fell back. The Archers scrambled for it, and Fisher ate it.

Archer saw this, and was sensible that he had not done handsomely in suffering it. A few moments ago he had admired his own generosity, and though he had felt the injustice of others, he had not accused himself of any. He turned away from the little boy, and sitting down at one end of the table, hid his face in his hands. He continued immovable in this posture for some time.

"Lord!" said Townsend; "it was an excellent joke!"

"Pooh!" said Fisher; "what a fool, to think so much about a bun!"

"Never mind, Mr. Archer, if you are thinking about me," said the little boy, trying gently to pull his hands from his face.

Archer stooped down, and lifted him up upon the table, at which sight the partisans set up a general hiss. "He has forsaken us! He deserts his party! He wants to be a Greybeard! After he has got us all into this scrape, he will leave us!"

"I am not going to leave you," cried Archer. "No one shall ever accuse me of deserting my party. I'll stick by the Archers, right or wrong, I tell you, to the last moment. But this little fellow--take it as you please, mutiny if you will, and throw me out of the window. Call me traitor! coward! Greybeard!--this little fellow is worth you all put together, and I'll stand by him against anyone who dares to lay a finger upon him; and the next morsel of food that I see shall be his. Touch him who dares!"

The commanding air with which Archer spoke and looked, and the belief that the little boy deserved his protection, silenced the crowd. But the storm was only hushed.

No sound of merriment was now to be heard--no battledore and shuttlecock- -no ball, no marbles. Some sat in a corner, whispering their wishes that Archer would unbar the doors, and give up. Others, stretching their arms, and gaping as they sauntered up and down the room, wished for air, or food, or water. Fisher and his nine, who had such firm dependence upon the gipsy, now gave themselves up to utter despair. It was eight o'clock, growing darker and darker every minute, and no candles, no light could they have. The prospect of another long dark night made them still more discontented.

Townsend, at the head of the yawners, and Fisher, at the head of the hungry malcontents, gathered round Archer and the few yet unconquered spirits, demanding "How long he meant to keep them in this dark dungeon? and whether he expected that they should starve themselves for his sake?"

The idea of GIVING UP was more intolerable to Archer than all the rest. He saw that the majority, his own convincing argument, was against him. He was therefore obliged to condescend to the arts of persuasion. He flattered some with hopes of food from the town boys. Some he reminded of their promises; others he praised for former prowess; and others he shamed by the repetition of their high vaunts in the beginning of the business.

It was at length resolved that at all events they WOULD HOLD OUT. With this determination they stretched themselves again to sleep, for the second night, in weak and weary obstinacy.

Archer slept longer and more soundly than usual the next morning, and when he awoke, he found his hands tied behind him! Three or four boys had just got hold of his feet, which they pressed down, whilst the trembling hands of Fisher were fastening the cord round them.

With all the force which rage could inspire, Archer struggled and roared to "HIS ARCHERS!"--his friends, his party--for help against the traitors. But all kept aloof. Townsend, in particular, stood laughing and looking on. "I beg your pardon, Archer, but really you look so droll. All alive and kicking! Don't be angry. I'm so weak, I cannot help laughing today."

The packthread cracked. "His hands are free! He's loose!" cried the least of the boys, and ran away, whilst Archer leaped up, and seizing hold of Fisher with a powerful grasp, sternly demanded "What he meant by this?"

"Ask my party," said Fisher, terrified; "they set me on; ask my party."

"Your party!" cried Archer, with a look of ineffable contempt; "you reptile!--YOUR party? Can such a thing as YOU have a party?"

"To be sure!" said Fisher, settling his collar, which Archer in his surprise had let go; "to be sure! Why not? Any man who chooses it may have a party as well as yourself, I suppose. I have nine Fishermen."

At these words, spoken with much sullen importance, Archer, in spite of his vexation, could not help laughing. "Fishermen!" cried he, "FISHERMEN!"

"And why not Fishermen as well as Archers?" cried they. "One party is just as good as another; it is only a question which can get the upper hand; and we had your hands tied just now."

"That's right, Townsend," said Archer, "laugh on, my boy! Friend or foe, it's all the same to you. I know how to value your friendship now. You are a mighty good fellow when the sun shines; but let a storm come, and how you slink away!"

At this instant, Archer felt the difference between A GOOD COMPANION and a good friend, a difference which some people do not discover till late in life.

"Have I no friend?--no real friend amongst you all? And could ye stand by, and see my hands tied behind me like a thief's? What signifies such a party--all mute?"

"We want something to eat," answered the Fishermen. "What signifies SUCH a party, indeed? and SUCH a manager, who can do nothing for one?"

"And have I done nothing?"

"Don't let's hear any more prosing," said Fisher; "we are too many for you. I've advised my party, if they've a mind not to be starved, to give you up for the ringleader, as you were; and Dr. Middleton will not let us all off, I daresay." So, depending upon the sullen silence of the assembly, he again approached Archer with a cord. A cry of "No, no, no! Don't tie him," was feebly raised.

Archer stood still, but the moment Fisher touched him he knocked him down to the ground, and turning to the rest, with eyes sparkling with indignation, "Archers!" cried he. A voice at this instant was heard at the door. It was De Grey's voice. "I have got a large basket of provisions for your breakfast." A general shout of joy was sent forth by the voracious public. "Breakfast! Provisions! A large basket! De Grey for ever! Huzza!"

De Grey promised, upon his honour, that if he would unbar the door nobody should come in with him, and no advantage should be taken of them. This promise was enough even for Archer. "I will let him in," said he, "myself; for I'm sure he'll never break his word." He pulled away the bar; the door opened, and having bargained for the liberty of Melson, the little boy, who had been shut in by mistake, De Grey entered with his basket of provisions, when he locked and barred the door instantly.

Joy and gratitude sparkled in every face when he unpacked his basket, and spread the table with a plentiful breakfast. A hundred questions were asked him at once. "Eat first," said he, "and we will talk afterwards." This business was quickly despatched by those who had not tasted food for a long while. Their curiosity increased as their hunger diminished. "Who sent us breakfast? Does Dr. Middleton know?" were questions reiterated from every mouth.

"He does know," answered De Grey; "and the first thing I have to tell you is, that I am your fellow-prisoner. I am to stay here till you give up. This was the only condition on which Dr. Middleton would allow me to bring you food, and he will allow no more."

Everyone looked at the empty basket. But Archer, in whom half vanquished party spirit revived with the strength he had got from his breakfast, broke into exclamations in praise of De Grey's magnanimity, as he now imagined that De Grey had become one of themselves.

"And you will join us, will you? That's a noble fellow!"

"No," answered De Grey, calmly; "but I hope to persuade, or rather to convince you, that you ought to join me."

"You would have found it no hard task to have persuaded or convinced us, whichever you pleased," said Townsend, "if you had appealed to Archers fasting; but Archers feasting are quite other animals. Even Caesar himself, after breakfast, is quite another thing!" added he, pointing to Archer.

"You may speak for yourself, Mr. Townsend," replied the insulted hero, "but not for me, or for Archers in general, if you please. We unbarred the door upon the faith of De Grey's promise--THAT was not giving up. And it would have been just as difficult, I promise you, to persuade or convince me either that I should give up against my honour before breakfast as after."

This spirited speech was applauded by many, who had now forgotten the feelings of famine. Not so Fisher, whose memory was upon this occasion very distinct.

"What nonsense," and the orator paused for a synonymous expression, but none was at hand. "What nonsense and--nonsense is here! Why, don't you remember that dinner-time, and supper-time and breakfast-time will come again? So what signifies mouthing about persuading and convincing? We will not go through again what we did yesterday! Honour me no honour. I don't understand it. I'd rather be flogged at once, as I have been many's the good time for a less thing. I say, we'd better all be flogged at once, which must be the end of it sooner or later, than wait here to be without dinner, breakfast, and supper, all only because Mr. Archer won't give up because of his honour and nonsense!"

Many prudent faces amongst the Fishermen seemed to deliberate at the close of this oration, in which the arguments were brought so "home to each man's business and bosom."

"But," said De Grey, "when we yield, I hope it will not be merely to get our dinner, gentlemen. When we yield, Archer--"

"Don't address yourself to me," interrupted Archer, struggling with his pride; "you have no further occasion to try to win me. I have no power, no party, you see! And now I find that I have no friends, I don't care what becomes of myself. I suppose I'm to be given up as a ringleader. Here's this Fisher, and a party of his Fishermen, were going to tie me hand and foot, if I had not knocked him down, just as you came to the door, De Grey; and now perhaps you will join Fisher's party against me."

De Grey was going to assure him that he had no intention of joining any party, when a sudden change appeared on Archer's countenance. "Silence!" cried Archer, in an imperious tone, and there was silence. Someone was heard to whistle the beginning of a tune, that was perfectly new to everybody present, except to Archer, who immediately whistled the conclusion. "There!" cried he, looking at De Grey, with triumph; "that's a method of holding secret correspondence whilst a prisoner, which I learned from 'Richard Coeur de Lion.' I know how to make use of everything. Hallo! friend! are you there at last?" cried he, going to the ventilator.

"Yes, but we are barred out here."

"Round to the window then, and fill our bag. We'll let it down, my lad, in a trice; bar me out who can!"

Archer let down the bag with all the expedition of joy, and it was filled with all the expedition of fear. "Pull away! make haste, for Heaven's sake!" said the voice from without; "the gardener will come from dinner, else, and we shall be caught. He mounted guard all yesterday at the ventilator; and though I watched and watched till it was darker than pitch, I could not get near you. I don't know what has taken him out of the way now. Make haste, pull away!" The heavy bag was soon pulled up.

"Have you any more?" said Archer.

"Yes, plenty. Let down quick! I've got the tailor's bag full, which is three times as large as yours, and I've changed clothes with the tailor's boy; so nobody took notice of me as I came down the street."

"There's my own cousin!" exclaimed Archer, "there's a noble fellow! there's my own cousin, I acknowledge. Fill the bag, then." Several times the bag descended and ascended; and at every unlading of the crane, fresh acclamations were heard.

"I have no more!" at length the boy with the tailor's bag cried.

"Off with you, then; we've enough, and thank you."

A delightful review was now made of their treasure. Busy hands arranged and sorted the heterogeneous mass. Archer, in the height of his glory, looked on, the acknowledged master of the whole. Townsend, who, in his prosperity as in adversity, saw and enjoyed the comic foibles of his friends, pushed De Grey, who was looking on with a more good-natured and more thoughtful air. "Friend," said he, "you look like a great philosopher, and Archer a great hero."

"And you, Townsend," said Archer, "may look like a wit, if you will; but you will never be a hero."

"No, no," replied Townsend; "wits were never heroes, because they are wits. You are out of your wits, and therefore may set up for a hero."

"Laugh, and welcome. I'm not a tyrant. I don't want to restrain anybody's wit; but I cannot say I admire puns."

"Nor I, either," said the time serving Fisher, sidling up to the manager, and picking the ice off a piece of plum-cake, "nor I either; I hate puns. I can never understand Townsend's PUNS. Besides, anybody can make puns; and one doesn't want wit, either, at all times; for instance, when one is going to settle about dinner, or business of consequence. Bless us all, Archer!" continued he, with sudden familiarity; "WHAT A SIGHT OF GOOD THINGS ARE HERE! I'm sure we are much obliged to you and your cousin. I never thought he'd have come. Why, now we can hold out as long as you please. Let us see," said he, dividing the provisions upon the table; "we can hold out to-day, and all to-morrow, and part of next day, maybe. Why, now we may defy the doctor and the Greybeards. The doctor will surely give up to us; for, you see, he knows nothing of all this, and he'll think we are starving all this while; and he'd be afraid, you see, to let us starve quite, in reality, for three whole days, because of what would be said in the town. My Aunt Barbara, for one, would be AT HIM long before that time was out; and besides, you know, in that case, he'd be hanged for murder, which is quite another thing, in law, from a BARRING OUT, you know."

Archer had not given to this harangue all the attention which it deserved, for his eye was fixed upon De Grey. "What is De Grey thinking of?" he asked, impatiently.

"I am thinking," said De Grey, "that Dr. Middleton must believe that I have betrayed his confidence in me. The gardener was ordered away from his watch-post for one half-hour when I was admitted. This half-hour the gardener has made nearly a hour. I never would have come near you if I had foreseen all this. Dr. Middleton trusted me, and now he will repent of his confidence in me."

"De Grey!" cried Archer, with energy, "he shall not repent of his confidence in you--nor shall you repent of coming amongst us. You shall find that we have some honour as well as yourself, and I will take care of your honour as if it were my OWN!"

"Hey-day!" interrupted Townsend; "are heroes allowed to change sides, pray? And does the chief of the Archers stand talking sentiment to the chief of the Greybeards? In the middle of his own party too!"

"Party!" repeated Archer, disdainfully; "I have done with parties! I see what parties are made of! I have felt the want of a friend, and I am determined to make one if I can."

"That you may do," said De Grey, stretching out his hand.

"Unbar the doors! unbar the windows!" exclaimed Archer. "Away with all these things! I give up for De Grey's sake. He shall not lose his credit on my account."

"No," said De Grey, "you shall not give up for my sake."

"Well, then, I'll give up to do what is HONOURABLE," said Archer.

"Why not to do what is REASONABLE?" said De Grey.

"REASONABLE! Oh, the first thing that a man of spirit should think of is, what is HONOURABLE."

"But how will he find out WHAT IS honourable, unless he can reason?" replied De Grey.

"Oh," said Archer, "his own feelings always tell him what is honourable."

"Have not YOUR FEELINGS," asked De Grey, "changed within these few hours?"

"Yes, with circumstances," replied Archer; "but right or wrong, as long as I think it honourable to do so and so, I'm satisfied."

"But you cannot think anything honourable, or the contrary," observed De Grey, "without reasoning; and as to what you call feeling, it's only a quick sort of reasoning."

"The quicker, the better," said Archer.

"Perhaps not," said De Grey. "We are apt to reason best when we are not in quite so great a hurry."

"But," said Archer, "we have not always time enough to reason AT FIRST."

"You must, however, acknowledge," replied De Grey, smiling, "that no man but a fool thinks it honourable to be in the wrong AT LAST. Is it not, therefore, best to begin by reasoning to find out the right AT FIRST?"

"To be sure," said Archer.

"And did you reason with yourself at first? And did you find out that it was right to bar Dr. Middleton out of his own schoolroom, because he desired you not to go into one of his own houses?"

"No," replied Archer; "but I should never have thought of heading a Barring Out, if he had not shown partiality; and if you had flown into a passion with me openly at once for pulling down your scenery, which would have been quite natural, and not have gone slily and forbid us the house out of revenge, there would have been none of this work."

"Why," said De Grey, "should you suspect me of such a mean action, when you have never seen or known me do anything mean, and when in this instance you have no proofs?"

"Will you give me your word and honour now, De Grey, before everybody here, that you did not do what I suspected?"

"I do assure you, upon my honour, I never, indirectly, spoke to Dr. Middleton about the playhouse."

"Then," said Archer, "I'm as glad as if I had found a thousand pounds! Now you are my friend indeed."

"And Dr. Middleton--why should you suspect him without reason any more than me?"

"As to that," said Archer, "he is your friend, and you are right to defend him; and I won't say another word against him. Will that satisfy you?"

"Not quite."

"Not quite! Then, indeed you are unreasonable!"

"No," replied De Grey; "for I don't wish you to yield out of friendship to me, any more than to honour. If you yield to reason, you will be governed by reason another time."

"Well; but then don't triumph over me, because you have the best side of the argument."

"Not I! How can I?" said De Grey; "for now you are on THE BEST SIDE as well as myself, are not you? So we may triumph together."

"You are a good friend!" said Archer; and with great eagerness he pulled down the fortifications, whilst every hand assisted. The room was restored to order in a few minutes--the shutters were thrown open, the cheerful light let in. The windows were thrown up, and the first feeling of the fresh air was delightful. The green playgound opened before them, and the hopes of exercise and liberty brightened the countenances of these voluntary prisoners.

But, alas! they were not yet at liberty. The idea of Dr. Middleton, and the dread of his vengeance, smote their hearts. When the rebels had sent an ambassador with their surrender, they stood in pale and silent suspense, waiting for their doom.

"Ah!" said Fisher, looking up at the broken panes in the windows, "the doctor will think the most of THAT--he'll never forgive us for that."

"Hush! here he comes!" His steady step was heard approaching nearer and nearer. Archer threw open the door, and Dr. Middleton entered. Fisher instantly fell on his knees.

"It is no delight to me to see people on their knees. Stand up, Mr. Fisher. I hope you are all conscious that you have done wrong?"

"Sir," said Archer, "they are conscious that they have done wrong, and so am I. I am the ringleader. Punish me as you think proper. I submit. Your punishments--your vengeance ought to fall on me alone!"

"Sir," said Dr. Middleton, calmly, "I perceive that whatever else you may have learned in the course of your education, you have not been taught the meaning of the word punishment. Punishment and vengeance do not with us mean the same thing. PUNISHMENT is pain given, with the reasonable hope of preventing those on whom it is inflicted from doing, IN FUTURE, what will hurt themselves or others. VENGEANCE never looks to the FUTURE, but is the expression of anger for an injury that is past. I feel no anger; you have done me no injury."

Here many of the little boys looked timidly up to the windows. "Yes, I see that you have broken my windows; that is a small evil."

"Oh, sir! How good! How merciful!" exclaimed those who had been most panic-struck. "He forgives us!"

"Stay," resumed Dr. Middleton; "I cannot forgive you. I shall never revenge, but it is my duty to punish. You have rebelled against the just authority which is necessary to conduct and govern you whilst you have not sufficient reason to govern and conduct yourselves. Without obedience to the laws," added he, turning to Archer, "as men, you cannot be suffered in society. You, sir, think yourself a man, I observe; and you think it the part of a man not to submit to the will of another. I have no pleasure in making others, whether men or children, submit to my WILL; but my reason and experience are superior to yours. Your parents at least think so, or they would not have intrusted me with the care of your education. As long as they do intrust you to my care, and as long as I have any hopes of making you wiser and better by punishment, I shall steadily inflict it, whenever I judge it to be necessary, and I judge it to be necessary NOW. This is a long sermon, Mr. Archer, not preached to show my own eloquence, but to convince your understanding. Now, as to your punishment!"

"Name it, sir," said Archer; "whatever it is, I will cheerfully submit to it."

"Name it yourself," said Dr. Middleton, "and show me that you now understand the nature of punishment."

Archer, proud to be treated like a reasonable creature, and sorry that he had behaved like a foolish schoolboy, was silent for some time, but at length replied, "That he would rather not name his own punishment." He repeated, however, that he trusted he should bear it well, whatever it might be.

"I shall, then," said Dr. Middleton, "deprive you, for two months, of pocket-money, as you have had too much, and have made a bad use of it."

"Sir," said Archer, "I brought five guineas with me to school. This guinea is all that I have left."

Dr. Middleton received the guinea which Archer offered him with a look of approbation, and told him that it should be applied to the repairs of the schoolroom. The rest of the boys waited in silence for the doctor's sentence against them, but not with those looks of abject fear with which boys usually expect the sentence of a schoolmaster.

"You shall return from the playground, all of you," said Dr. Middleton, "one quarter of an hour sooner, for two months to come, than the rest of your companions. A bell shall ring at the appointed time. I give you an opportunity of recovering my confidence by your punctuality."

"Oh, sir! we will come the instant, the very instant the bell rings; you shall have confidence in us," cried they, eagerly.

"I deserve your confidence, I hope," said Dr. Middleton; "for it is my first wish to make you all happy. You do not know the pain that it has cost me to deprive you of food for so many hours."

Here the boys, with one accord, ran to the place where they had deposited their last supplies. Archer delivered them up to the doctor, proud to show that they were not reduced to obedience merely by necessity.

"The reason," resumed Dr. Middleton, having now returned to the usual benignity of his manner--"the reason why I desired that none of you should go to that building," pointing out of the window, "was this:--I had been informed that a gang of gipsies had slept there the night before I spoke to you, one of whom was dangerously ill of a putrid fever. I did not choose to mention my reason to you or your friends. I have had the place cleaned, and you may return to it when you please. The gipsies were yesterday removed from the town."

"De Grey, you were in the right," whispered Archer, "and it was I that was UNJUST."

"The old woman," continued the doctor, "whom you employed to buy food, has escaped the fever, but she has not escaped a gaol, whither she was sent yesterday, for having defrauded you of your money.

"Mr. Fisher," said Dr. Middleton, "as to you, I shall not punish you; I have no hope of making you either wiser or better. Do you know this paper?"--the paper appeared to be a bill for candles and a tinder-box.

"I desired him to buy those things, sir," said Archer, colouring.

"And did you desire him not to pay for them?"

"No," said Archer, "he had half a crown on purpose to pay for them."

"I know he had, but he chose to apply it to his private use, and gave it to the gipsy to buy twelve buns for his own eating. To obtain credit for the tinder-box and candles, he made use of THIS name," said he, turning to the other side of the bill, and pointing to De Grey's name, which was written at the end of a copy of one of De Grey's exercises.

"I assure you, sir--" cried Archer.

"You need not assure me, sir," said Dr. Middleton; "I cannot suspect a boy of your temper of having any part in so base an action. When the people in the shop refused to let Mr. Fisher have the things without paying for them, he made use of De Grey's name, who was known there. Suspecting some mischief, however, from the purchase of the tinder-box, the shopkeeper informed me of the circumstance. Nothing in this whole business gave me half so much pain as I felt, for a moment, when I suspected that De Grey was concerned in it." A loud cry, in which Archer's voice was heard most distinctly, declared De Grey's innocence. Dr. Middleton looked round at their eager, honest faces, with benevolent approbation. "Archer," said he, taking him by the hand, "I am heartily glad to see that you have got the better of your party spirit. I wish you may keep such a friend as you have now beside you; one such friend is worth two such parties. As for you, Mr. Fisher, depart; you must never return hither again." In vain he solicited Archer and De Grey to intercede for him. Everybody turned away with contempt; and he sneaked out, whimpering in a doleful voice, "What shall I say to my Aunt Barbara?"

[The end]
Maria Edgeworth's short story: Barring Out; Or, Party Spirit

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