Chapter 5 No.5

The day at last arrived for the triennial exhibition of the productions of Dantzic art, on which day the council had agreed that the prize for the clock was to be adjudged. It was a great fête for the town. At an early hour of the morning the inhabitants began to decorate their houses with tapestry, and to hang garlands over the door-posts. All classes prepared their dresses of brightest colors, and their gayest, happiest smiles.

And none was happier than Marguerite, for Dumiger had written to tell her that on the next day he was certain to be free; but he had not ventured to inform her that the clock was sold to Hamburgh. Still, although the deed of sale was irrevocable, his feelings would not permit him to believe that the excellence of his work would remain unknown to his towns-people; he felt convinced that the strangers vanity would induce him to make use of the secret confided to him, so he wrote to Marguerite that all would go right. Carl and Krantz arrived early in the morning to accompany her to the great hall. She had within her a secret which she would not have disclosed to the universe,-the secret of her husband's success, of his fame and future happiness. So far Dumiger had informed her that there was an intrigue against him, in which the Grand Master was the principal: he explained to her that the object the Grand Master had in view was to obtain the prize and its accompanying honors for his own son. Carl and Krantz undertook to protect her through the crowd, and it was with an abundant feeling of confidence that she dressed for the ceremonial.

She wore her hair braided round her head; a bodice, which showed the beauty and shape of her form, of scarlet cloth, attached by threads of gold across the shirt, which was of the softest and most delicate material; the short blue petticoat, which reached some way below the knee, but did not descend so far as to conceal the ankle, the symmetry of which was well-defined by the silk stocking. The shoe might have stirred the envy of any grisette in Paris-a class which was, even in those days, supposed to enjoy a monopoly of taste and refinement. There was a modesty combined with refinement and strength of character in the appearance of Marguerite which would have distinguished her in any crowd. She was a being for love and sunshine; but one who, at the same time, would have dared much for him she loved. The kind and generous are ever gallant, and rarely are the beautiful unworthy.

Carl and Krantz were also dressed out in their gayest costumes. It would have been hard to have decided which was the predominant color in the dresses of these two worthy citizens; they would have rivaled any tulip bed in a Dutch garden, and perfectly dazzled Marguerite when they entered the room.

At length the last touch was given to the toilette, and they sallied forth. Already the streets were so crowded that it was difficult to move through them; but Carl and Krantz were determined, energetic fellows, and what with their elbows and Marguerite's bright smiles, after incurring a few risks of some jokes on Carl's extravagant appearance, they reached the great hall.

The street in front of the Courthouse was lined with the burgher guard, stationed there to keep back the crowd; but Marguerite had an order for admittance at a private entrance, so, escorted by her cavalier, she ascended the staircase.

When she entered the hall she was struck with awe and astonishment. The whole of that enormous space, with the exception of the portion railed off for the competitors and the dais where the council were sitting, was crowded by a dense mass of people: along the sides of the vast edifice, and up to the very roof, were arranged all the various productions of national art. Nothing can be pictured more beautiful than the combination of rich and varied colors, or more curious than the forms which art and genius had given them: here were dyes which might have rivaled those of Tyre, and fabrics of finer texture than a Penelope could have woven. At one end, toward which Marguerite's eyes were most anxiously turned, the models of the clocks were arranged. Dumiger's was placed in the center, for it was at the same time the largest model, and contained the most elaborate and complicated machinery; but, alas! the works remained still, while all the others were in motion, and showed in the smallest space the movements of the heavenly bodies, and the progress of time. If Dumiger's meant anything more than a confused mass of machinery, it could not for a moment be doubted that it was the work of highest genius exhibited, but in its quiescent state it contrasted disadvantageously with the admirable systems revolving round it. Marguerite held her breath while she gazed; neither did she perceive how much attention she herself had awakened-the moment for vanity had passed, her present interests lay far deeper. Immediately above her the Grand Council, with the Grand Master, were sitting, dressed in their robes of state. The Count Albrecht wore his cordon of the Fleece, and looked every inch a grand master; the anxiety for his son's success was apparent in the nervous glances which he cast around him. Behind, and amid the retainers, stood the dark, designing-looking stranger, who held in his hand the fate of Dumiger.

The heralds proclaimed silence, and then the Grand Master rose to read the decision of the council. It commenced with reciting the list of the competitors, and when it mentioned Dumiger's name, it said, "the work is imperfect, and therefore must be withdrawn."

"It is not imperfect," cried two stentorian voices from the farther end of the hall.

The voices proceeded from Carl and Krantz, whose excitement could no longer be retained.

"No! it is not imperfect," said the gentler voice of Marguerite.

All eyes were turned toward the spot whence that voice proceeded. Marguerite nearly fainted to find herself the object of so much attention.

"Keep your courage," whispered Carl. "Tell them that Dumiger will soon be free, and the works put in motion. I will tell them for you," he exclaimed, and he began to speak, when the mysterious stranger stepped forth.

"Stay," he said, "let me touch the works of this clock-the secret is mine."

He forced his way through the crowd, looked carefully over the machinery, opened a secret spring, arranged two small wheels, on which the accurate movement of the whole machinery depended, and immediately it was all in motion.

The proceeding was watched with intense interest by all. The stranger's eye gleamed with delight, for he was anxious, with the true spirit of Hamburg jealousy, that the people of Dantzic should feel the value of what they were about to lose.

It was indeed a marvelous piece of workmanship: the planets all revolved in their regular order, figures of exquisite workmanship appeared and disappeared to mark the seconds, and the dial plate was of elaborate beauty. The people for some time stood entranced in wonder. At last they exclaimed, as with one voice-

"It is a work worthy of Dantzic-and Dumiger has won! Dumiger forever'."

If Marguerite had nearly fainted from fear, she was now pale with delight.

"Dumiger, Dumiger forever!" again shouted the crowd; "where is the laurel? where is the triumph? Greatest amongst his citizens, Dumiger has won!"

But at that moment the stranger came forward with a paper in his hand. The Count's face, which had been overspread with anger and shame at these shouts, was again lit up with hope, for after Dumiger's his son's was evidently the best.

"You mistake, my friends," said this man: "Dumiger is not a citizen of Dantzic, but of Hamburg, and the clock belongs to that noblest of free cities."

"Madman! fool!" burst from the astonished crowd; "we all know Dumiger, his family are eminent in the list of our freemen-you are mad! Grand Master, proclaim that Dumiger has won the prize, that Dumiger is great."

Joy thrilled through Marguerite's frame.

The Grand Master rose, and his voice trembled with anxiety and secret pleasure as he spoke.

"It is too true," he said; "the clock is sold to Hamburg, and Dumiger has lost his rights of citizenship here by becoming a freeman of that town. The prize, therefore, in accordance with the decision of the council, is adjudged to the second-to my son."

Then the anger of the people rose, wild and savage; in one moment, like the bursting of a thunder-cloud, the whole aspect of the place had changed.

"Show us the deed!" they exclaimed.

The stranger took it and held it up. There was no mistaking it; it was headed by the arms of Hamburg, and signed by Dumiger. The storm of indignation had subsided for a moment, but only as it seemed to gain additional strength.

"Tear him in pieces-he shall not have the clock. Down with Dumiger-crucify the man who could prefer the freedom of Hamburg to the honors of Dantzic. Down with him!"

And the people tore up the benches, drove back the burgher guard; some of the boldest dashed on the platform; the Grand Council had to escape, carrying the stranger with them. The mob tore out of the hall, and told their friends outside-anger led to anger, the passions rose like the waves at the equinox. Nothing could stop the mob, from so apparently trifling a cause a tumult was created; the jealousy of the townsmen now appeared-that jealousy, smothered and subdued for so many years, burst forth in this madness.

Poor Marguerite had fainted. Carl and Krantz, by herculean exertions, dragged her through the mob; she was taken to a small room over the great hall, and laid there until the storm should be appeased.

It did not seem likely to be so. Unfortunately, one of the guards had in the tumult struck a burgher; in some of the smaller streets they were even now fighting; but the crowd in the great square seemed to have a firmer purpose, there was a gradual calm. At last one man climbed up the statue in the Center of the square.

"Where is Dumiger?" he asked.

And another voice answered, "He is in the debtor's prison."

"We will go and lead him to his triumph," was the dark and threatening reply of the people, who now moved forward in columns.