it had been given to the Elector of Mayence, afterwards Prince Primate of the Rhenish Confederacy and Grand Duke of Frankfort, and who had altered all the laws and customs to the French model, until the victory of the Allies restored the ancient constitution. In early times it was very inaccessible, in consequence of the bad state of the roads; the journey to Frankfort could scarcely be accomplished in a day, and old people relate that those who made it were accustomed to make their wills previously. It is now approached by good roads on all sides, and the railroad from Giessen to Coblentz is now open as well as that from Giessen to Deutz, which run together as far as the town. On the Giessen side, on the top of the hill on which the town stands, there are handsome gardens and promenades. The first object of note on entering from that side by the road is the Cathedral, shown on the previous page.
The origin of the town is obscure. It is probable that the church with its foundation stood there in very ancient times, and by the right of sanctuary attracted a numerous population to seek refuge in its neighbourhood; and then there was an ancient Villa Regia in the lower part of the town, which is indicated by the Sala or Selhöfen, the dependents of which would have formed, in course of time, a considerable community, which, by degrees, obtained the privileges of an imperial city. The first date of this, in an old record, is 1180, when Frederick I. grants the town the same privileges as Frankfort. In the times of the ancient Germans all the heights were covered, with few exceptions, with impenetrable woods; it was only in the valleys of the rivers or the slopes of the hills that farm-houses and villas were built, and settlements gathered round them. The common property in the surrounding forests was called a “Mark,” and was administered for the common good by definite rules. A place bare of trees on the side of a hill, such as that on which Wetzlar is partly built, was called a “Lar,” i. e., a “leer,” or void space, and the rest of the name is derived from the Wetzle, a brook flowing at the foot. Near Wetzlar are places called Aslar and Dorlar, possibly resulting from the compound of the same termination with the German words for “ash” and “thorn.”
The church probably stood alone on its site in the first instance, for the steep below it is inconvenient for houses. They grew up round it as the building gradually was proceeded with, for this, like most gothic churches, was not built in a day, but was the growth of centuries. As spots devoted to rural pursuits were taken in within the limits of the town, we find near the church two streets, called Duck Lane and Goose Pasture, just as in the heart of London we still have Lincoln’s Inn Fields and Covent Garden.
At the time of this early settlement there seems to have sprung up a population below, on the bank of the Lahn, who lived under the protection of the Church, and subsisted on gardening and fishing. This settlement was called Husen, “the houses,” and when the town extended itself to meet it, it was included in the limit of the fortifications under the name of the Haüser suburb.
Another settlement formed itself round the ancient royal “Sala” or Palatium, which at first was independent, but afterwards joined with the town under the protection of the Church. Here was the ancient castle where the royal or imperial governor lived, till he found it convenient from the growth of the town to transfer his residence to the castle on the Kalsmunt Hill, whence he could watch over it more independently. Immediately about the cathedral, as time went on, a number of artisans congregated, and they were formed by the imperial government into guilds on strictly protective principles; which served for purposes of co-operation and defence in early times, but which, in the present day, are a great hindrance to improvements in trade, and, as all residents in Frankfort know, a great objection to residence in a so-called free city.
THE CALL.
Isai. xlviii., 15. Yea I have called him, I have brought him.
A white-robed angel stood at Heaven’s door,
To catch earth’s floating tones of even song,
Then, kneeling low upon the crystal floor,
Asks with uplifted hands, “How long, how long?
“I hear my child’s sweet voice from earth arise,
I catch the fragrant incense of his prayer;
But missing him in these serener skies,
Heaven’s fairest beauties seem to me less fair.
“Angel of death, I vainly watch thee pass:
When wilt thou summon me my child to meet?
When shall I welcome, on the sea of glass.
The noiseless coming of his little feet?”
Now through wide air her spotless pinions spread,
With silent wing she cleaves the liquid skies,
And stands a quiet presence by a bed
Where her own image softly sleeping lies.
His parted rosebud lips seem fain to speak,
As though the fair-haired boy would tell his dreams,
While busy fancies make his changing cheek
Like Heaven bright with morning’s blushing beams.
The angel watcher guards the sleeping child,
And murmurs music, warbling all the night;
Then, seized with longing love, in cadence wild
She cries, “Oh! let these holden eyes have sight.
“Oh, for one glance of love, one answering gleam,
One look of recognition—one embrace;
Oh, smile on me, not only in thy dream,
Not only in thy sleep,—behold my face.”
The blue eyes open, and the mother hears
Her child’s sweet voice, and sees him face to face
Till morning breaks, and chimes from crystal spheres
Ring out and call her back through boundless space.
“Thy will be done, O Lord, Thy will be done.”
So prays she, kneeling at the gates of gold,
Half fearing lest the High and Holy One,
Should deem her earth-born wayward thought too bold.
When, lo! she sees among the seraph bands
Her angel child in spotless garment drest,
Who calls her “Mother,” stretching out his hands,
And nestling like a bird upon her breast.
