International Weekly Miscellany of Literature, Art and Science — Volume 1, No. 2, July 8, 1850

by Various

What did all this mean? A mystery seemed to be encircling Dumiger which he could not penetrate. He knew there was danger near him, but was unable to define its extent. Only one thing was now certain—he had sold that clock on which years of toil had been bestowed, and not in vain. He had but a few days since contemplated certain success, now how far it was from him! And Hamburgh—to be great and ennobled there, what did that signify to him? How long would it not take for him, the inhabitant of the great rival city, to be admitted into this new society? No, he had made an error which could never be recalled; he had broken the ties which were once so dear to him. Dumiger now learned the great truth, that it is only the opinion of the few with whom we are most intimate that we care for. It is nothing to be great amongst those with whom we have no sympathies, no affections in common. The kind word from one lip which we love is far more to be prized than the loudest acclamations of thousands to whom we are indifferent.

CHAPTER V.

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."