REFLECTIONS.
The dark shades quiver
Where the tree-tops bend
Over the river,
To whose depths they lend
Their leafy beauty, which reflected lies
Within the wave, like love that never dies;
But ever from the loved one back is thrown,
Encircling him whose love is all her own.
* * *
On the promontory which we are now leaving behind us on the right are several little villages, of which Emmel is the principal. It is celebrated for a schism which took place there.
In 1790, the Directory at Paris wished the Curé of Emmel to take the same oath they had compelled the French clergy to pronounce; and on receiving the Curé’s refusal, he was proscribed. All his flock accompanied the Curé on his being driven forth, until he thus addressed them: “I quit you, but my spirit will always remain with you. At Bornhofen, whither I now go, I shall say the mass every morning at nine, and you can in spirit join in the service.”
They all promised so to do; and every day at nine the people collected in the church, and said their prayers without a Curé.
After some years the Curé died, and a new one was appointed, but the people of Emmel persisted in saying their prayers by themselves without any assistance; and, in spite of all remonstrances, many families remained schismatics until a few years back. It is doubtful whether they have all returned to their former allegiance, even at the present time.
Round the pebbly bed in which our river sings along her course where her banks widen, then again beneath impending cliffs, we hurry on, past Minnheim, Rondel, Winterich, and other little nests of vitality, from which the labourers come forth to cultivate the fertile soil.
Two pretty legends are told of this district; the first is called “The Cell of Eberhard;” the second, “The Blooming Roses;” and there is an evident connexion between the two.