A DAY AT MAYENCE.

THE ancient city of Mainz, or Mayence, garrisoned with 10,000 Austrian and Prussian troops, has something the character of a cuckoo's nest. More correctly, perhaps, the Grand-duke of Hesse Darmstadt may be called the hedge-sparrow, with these intrusive, overgrown birds seated at ease under his wing. A story is told of his highness, how some years ago he was delivered of a practical joke, and it may be given among any future anecdotes of royal and noble jokers.

The Grand-duke, it is said, felt a little jealous of his neighbour the Duke of Nassau, because he, Nassau, inveigled away the travellers who, in former times, going to Weisbaden, were wont to reach that abode of fashion by way of Mayence; whereas the Duke, by holding out the quiet solicitation of a pier at Bieberich, and the advantage of cutting off an angle in the journey, drew away the great stream of tra vellers the English particularly-from its former round-about flow, and turned it at once upon his own capital; leaving Mayence, with all its hotels, all its touters, its omnibus-keepers, its cabmen, its landlords, its tenants, its weasels of all kinds, without a chance of sucking the golden eggs which the great flock of English geese, were wont, before the new pier was made, to drop there in their migrations.

The Grand-duke felt himself aggrieved at this: he had not a fair share of the harvest.

By some unaccountable means, a little book with an odd name, written by an old man, had brought all the world flocking to his neighbour's country. This alone was enough to vex a grand-duke,-it is so natural to hate a neighbour who gets on better than one's self, but when that neighbour spread a net, and took all the good-luck to himself-why it would have tried even the patience of a saint! So he sat down in his cuckoo's nest and hatched a practical joke.

Summoning his Home Secretary, his Woods and Forests, his chief Engineer, his First Lord of the Admiralty, he directed them, in their several departments, to quarry with care certain huge masses of rocklarge jagged fellows, such as would form a reef, or a breakwater, or still better, a break-steamer, to bring them to his principal quay, load therewith a certain large vessel, and taking advantage of a moonless night, to drop easily down with the stream to Bieberich, to bring-to off the offensive pier, and there to discharge the rocky cargo so judiciously that no steamer could by possibility approach that pier, still less land its passengers thereupon. By this being done in the night, he calculated that the stones would remain undiscovered till the following evening, when the steamer, with its full cargo of Smiths and Browns, would run full tilt upon the reef; and even if no worse accident should happen, the event would so astonish the Browns, that in writing home to their friendsmany, perhaps, even then packing up their portmanteaus to followthey would naturally dissuade them from landing at that dangerous pier, and recommend by all means the old and safer road by Mayence.

Besides, he knew that the Smiths and Browns liked to see themselves in print, and that among them there would be no lack of "Constant Readers," and "Old Correspondents," and "Subscribers of thirty years'

VOL, XXXII,

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standing," who would instantly write to "The Times" a full and particular account of this their sad mischance; urging that popular organ to blow its influential bellows, and warn all Europe, but especially all other Smiths and Browns, to avoid the dangerous locality of Bieberich, and to go on, as they valued their lives, to Mayence. Nor was it likely to stop there; for the correspondence would, of course, call up "Vindex" and "Verax," and "Fair Play," on the side of Nassau; who would be again answered by an "Old Traveller," who preferred the old road; a "Timid Invalid," who was half frightened to death by the shock, and "A Sufferer," who suffered somehow or other from the pier all of which would beget discussion and doubt, and at any rate send on the timid interest to Mayence-a great point gained, even if it went no further.

This was unquestionably a pleasant jest of Hesse Darmstadt, and likely to be much laughed at by Nassau,-perhaps even calculated to tickle the risible faculties of his subjects. It was, besides, doing Nassau a positive good in laying down the foundation of an island, in case he wished to increase his colonial possessions.

But how strangely constituted is the mind of men; and what an experiment a joke is, after all? Point it, train it, bring it up to the mark ever so cunningly, draw it on with what traps and devices you may, it will often either fall short, or come back, like a rocket, to the sender.

Strange to say, Nassau could not be made to comprehend the fun of the thing. He persisted in thinking it was no joke at all either to himself or his subjects; and his unimaginative mind saw nothing in it but a heap of stones, an obstruction to his jetty, a dirty and unneighbourly trick, and an insult to his crown and dignity. It was the more offensive for having been done under his very nose; and he naturally enough considered that his national flag was typically lowered and put down by the sinking of flags in the Nassau waters. He was determined not to stand it, for he knew that when the news reached his capital, the very flags of Weisbaden, like the "stones of Rome, would rise and mutiny" against the insult. So, he fired up; concentrated all his forces-easily effected during the forenoon-put his artillery, one gun, upon the war establishment, and horsed it with the relay of the omnibus; and taking the railway as the base of his operations, threatened to move his grand army by an early train against Mayence, unless the injury were at once redressed.

In this doughty resolution he was seconded by the unanimous outery of his loyal subjects. Enthusiasm was at its height. All the hotel and lodging-house keepers, with their waiters and touters, came forward as one man. The nymphs of the Kochbrunnen declared themselves incapable of throwing cold water on the movement. Every Bad-Haus said it was a bad job. Every Hof felt it a huff, and the Cur-Saal condemned the thing as a dog's trick. In a word, Nassau was all in a bubble, requiring but a spark more to make it boil over; and the promptest of measures might be looked for from a nation whose steam was always

up.

While matters were in this effervescent state, news was brought to Prince Metternich, that a thunder-storm was shaking the central puddles of Germany; that a little war was going to be declared in the heart of Europe, and fire and sword to be carried about in the immediate neighbourhood of his vineyards at Johannisberg; so, the story goes, that he commissioned that influential cuckoo, the Austrian Governor of Mayence,

to intimate to the head bird, that it would be better for the present to withdraw the joke of the reef, to let Nassau remain without an island, the hotel-keepers without a grievance, Europe without a war, and the duchy in undisturbed possession of the Smiths and Browns; to cherish, in short, his two cuckoos, and let the British geese fly their own way.

Now, what should we say at Stoke Pogis, if a man set up a jest like this? What, if taking example from "the porcelain clay," Crock, being jealous of Pipkin, were to empty his dung-cart, or shoot his rubbish, at Pipkin's door to spite him? We should, of course, make common cause against Crock, cut him-not deal with him-make Stoke Pogis too hot to hold him-send him to Coventry.

To be at Mayence without hunting up such traces as remain of the great original publishing house of Faustus and Co., would be a neglect of which we, illiterate as we are, could scarcely be guilty; so under the guidance of Monsieur le Commissionaire of the Hotel d'Angleterre, we proceeded in the search, consigning our friend, on more than one occasion, to the tender mercies of the alleged sleeping partner of that concern, for taking us into such filthy places. To do him justice, it was a job he did not like. He would fain have kept to the open spaces of the city, to the promenades, squares, quays, anywhere but where we wanted to go. His bent was towards the bran new pictures, the furbished-up monuments, and especially the works of his townsman, l'habile sculpteur Scholl. Much he wished to draw me towards an institution, which, warbling in German, he called "la Naturforschergesellschaft," which we declined as too formidable. He was disposed to be angry when twitted about the offensive odours, but had rather a happy retort upon those who forced him to go amongst them. In our progress we saw many curious specimens of old architecture, which it is now the fashion to repaint and restore; but the most curious thing that we encountered, was that ingenious invention, the head-dress of the Austrian artillery, which, for quaint contrivance, and variety of form, as seen from different points, is, I suspect, unrivalled. Fore and aft, at a little distance, it looks a plain civilian's hat, with something thin sticking upon the side. On a nearer approach, this last appearance turns out to be the flat side of a cocked-hat foreshortened; and on the man's other side the thing is most like a jockey's cap; thus presenting to the inquiring amateur three distinct phases or faces. After this, our own contrivances in this line seem puerile in the extreme. The commissioner at first declined to join in the opinion, that it was a chapeau organique, but eventually he inclined to think it

was.

Arriving in a very small square, with a tower in the corner, we were informed that here it was Faust set up his press; which was of such ingenuity that the devil was naturally enough supposed to have a hand in it (quære, does the modern printer's devil derive his name from this original sleeping partner ?).

But it was, after all, the birth-place of Guttenberg, or, more properly, Gansfleisch, gooseflesh (Guttenberg being the name of his place), that we were most desirous to see, and after a ramble back into a better region of the town, found ourselves thrust unceremoniously into a small yard, with a kind of back-kitchen or outhouse opening into it, in which was a woman washing clothes.

People seldom look more silly, than when introduced to some such world-famous place as this. You feel it necessary to sink the ridiculous

in the sublime, to look with respect upon the old plaster, to treat the dirt with reverence, as appertaining in some way to greatness; and however offensive the smell may be, good-breeding teaches you that anything in the nature of a contemptuous sniff would be felt as a rudeness. You take a lively interest in the sink, as having received the washings of the infant printer's pap-boat; at the stones over which he toddled to be washed at the pump; at the roof and walls that echoed his early cries; nay, scrape away a bit of plaster to make sure of getting at the true original surface, against which his early howlings struck; you fall into a fit of musing upon the fact, that to the squalling, sprawling brat of this old yard, you are indebted for the most important of all human inventionsfor benefits incalculable--not omitting the small one of making public your own little lucubrations. You muse, too, upon the coincidence of goosequill being superseded by gooseflesh. Meantime the washing ceases, and has given place to silent wonder. The girl has drawn her wrist across her eyes to have a better look at you and your strange proceedings. She exchanges glances with the guide, who whispers mysteriously. He has made you out to be somebody, as is the custom of all guides to enhance their own importance. You feel it necessary to say something; and having no other German word at hand, utter "Gansfleisch?" with an interrogation; to which she as readily answers, "Ja, Ja," as if you mentioned Lord John Russell or the Pope of Rome; and follows you out with a stare of solid wonderment, which says as plainly as stare can say it," What in the name of all the Saints can have brought the man nere, to look at our old wash 'us ! "

In such a hurry was the guide to show me the renovations of the cathedral, that he hastened onwards, regardless of my lounging and desultory habits; chafing, even, at the shop-door when I entered to purchase some small chemicals of Mr. Julius Kick, the apothecary,—an unhappy name, by the way, for one of his calling, as too suggestive of the last kick of his patients.

The restorers have had their full fling at this cathedral; they have done their best and worst. The red sandstone is scraped to look as good as new, the monuments have been patched and mended, and the figures re-gilt and re-painted. All the stiff old gentlemen in ruffs and jerkins and trunk-hose; all the pursed-up old ladies in close caps and neverending waists; all the little boys and girls, with their short cloaks and bunchy breeches and petticoats, kneeling with pointed hands behind their papas and mammas; all the bishops and abbots, whom we had begun to congratulate upon getting rid of, their flaring gilding, and blue and red paint, are now successfully raddled-up to the taste of the middle ages. Arms and legs, fingers and toes, are put on again; and some modern Taliacotius has been at work upon their noses. But, say the restorers. we have made them what they were, all done with historical accuracy,— more's the pity!

One old bit has, as yet, escaped the men of taste; and from its insignificance, as well as the bye place it occupies, may, it is hoped, continue to do so. In the cloisters is an old, broken, defaced representation of the funeral of the famous minstrel or troubadour, Frauenlob ("Praise the ladies "), from the complimentary character of his poetry. In this are represented his mortal remains, being carried to the grave by eight beautiful and noble ladies of Mayence, followed by two other figures, one of whom, from the superior height, we should be disposed to think intended

for a man-his executor, or residuary legatee, probably. From a certain projection, like an elbow, near his companion's neck, it would appear as if the sculptor had designed to represent this figure in the act of indulging in the freedom of a chaste salute; but the whole group is so sadly worn away, that it is difficult to make out the figures at all. Some exaggeration, it is to be hoped, there may be in the length of the ladies' feet.

It was not without difficulty I could prevail upon the sexton to let me stay long enough before this old group to commit it to paper, so impatient was he to show me the modern statue and monument-erected within a year or two-to their dear departed, by the ladies of Mayence. This is a thing to pause upon; for I doubt if the whole compass of history can produce a more touching instance of the power of soft-sawder. Frauenlob died in 1318, and now-in these hard, utilitarian times, when poetry is all but dead and buried-when to build the lofty rhyme would be about the last architectural speculation which a sensible man would think of— when for upwards of five hundred years has been

"Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue,"

the ladies of Mayence have saved their pin-money, and cabbaged their housekeeping allowance, and gone upon tick to the tailleuse, and, without question, brought discomfort upon the household, to raise a fine marble statue and monument to a man who tickled the ears of their great-greatgreat-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great

great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmothers!

Chew the cud upon this. Take a stool; and, having in your hand the "Description Pittoresque de Mayence," by the Chanoinesse Adelaide Von Stolterfoth, you will read, "Le corps de ce troubadour Allemand fut porté par huit des plus belles et de plus noble dames de la ville, depuis sa maison jusqu'au lieu de la sepulture, parcequ'il avoit chanté en vers mélodieux les vertus du beau sexe. Albert de Strasbourg raconte qu'il fut inhumé la veille du Saint André, dans le parois de la cathédrale, pres les degrés, et que les dames, outre les larmes abondantes qu'elles répandirent, versèrent sur sa tombe une si grande quantité de vin, que le parvis en fut inondé."

We think it a great deal to say, in modern phrase, that there was not a dry eye upon such occasions; but here they flooded the cloisters! We feel what a breakdown modern flattery must be after this; and what ablest professor, in his wildest dreams, could hope to touch the hearts of the twentieth generation after him? How exceedingly small, vanishing into the faintest pianissimo, it behoves the modern lady-praiser to sing when he thinks of this great fact. These do, it is true, find avenues to the female heart, and reach it after a halting fashion, but Frauenlob travelled there by a special train. He was, doubtless, the Hudson of humbug.

Unfortunate husbands of Mayence! As if there were not ladypraisers enow and to spare in these days, but you must be laid under contributions for the sake of one who died five hundred years ago? Who can tell your sufferings and privations, your reiterated cold mutton, your scraped-up dinners and the scantiest ashes? What sighs and groans of a Saturday! and how often, in place of the accustomed joint, has the statue of old Praise-the-ladies been thrown in your teeth. We may imagine the state of those recusant husbands who refused to join in the great