The Press.
London, England, 1858-08-14 00:00:00

THE PRESS, AUGUST 14, 1858.

which is not, and often knows how to admire
doctrines which he cannot bring himself to be-
lieve. The theosophy of the philosophers which
was in vogue in the age of Lucan was far more
true and more noble than any of the old national
creeds had been ; but we cannot discover that it
did much good, while we may certainly conclude
that much of the greatness which earlier ages
had exhibited sprang from the truths mingled in
those grotesque theological systems which had
been embraced in those times with such childlike
confidence and reverence.

Among the changes which ensued upon the
fusion of races in the Roman Empire was the
obscuration, through the perplexing variety of
models introduced, of the idea of art. We can
understand this from what we witness in our
own time. At the present day our poets com-
plain that they wander in a maze in which there
are so many turnings that it seems impossible to
discover among them the true path to the temple
of taste. There are so many rival schools, so
many dissimilar models, that few have the wis-
dom to make a right choice among them. It is
in an age when ideas are few and faith strong
and simple that poets find the way most securely
to their goal. No poet in any age seems to have
been more penetrated with the true notion of art
than Virgil. This must have been owing in a
great measure to his rare singleness of intellec-
tual eyesight and sense of what is proper and
becoming; for, though we have commended the
simplicity of the Augustan age, as compared with
that of Nero, yet it was not intrinsically remark-
able either for simplicity or strong faith. It was
an age of corrupt manners and of hypocrisy in
religion. But there seems to have been on
Virgil the stamp of the olden time, of the primi-
tive Italian rusticity—a love of nature rare among
the poets of antiquity—a genuine reverence for
the gods of his country which is surprising in an
enlightened scholar, especially as he adhered to
the maxim of Euripides much more strictly than
its author :

wid;). cropq'6I,AITOCS CIL Su iti.ocrt.
Trecrpiov; wapaboxeitc, 8* OtAtixixes; x piviu
xix.7111.4.19', otA II; ran-ci xfszetigrait X6yoc,
o:;S' 71 a,' iixiwy TO crqA,

By this singleness and simplicity of character
Virgil appears to have escaped the greatest error
which an artist can commit, the error of thinking
more of himself than of his subject. Certainly
no poet was ever more possessed by his subject
than Virgil—no poet has less sunk into the rhe-
torician. When we consider how excessively the
Romans prized and practised rhetoric, and how
it is the besetting sin of their poetry, it seems
little less than wonderful that Virgil should have
been able to steer so clear of this vice, and to
preserve throughout a style which, always aus-
terely dignified, is never exaggerated or falsely
emphatic. It seems still more surprising when
we contrast Virgil with Lucan. As Mr. Meri-
vale says, Lucan is a rhetorician, if a splendid
rhetorician, throughout. He cannot tell a plain
story, which Virgil can do to admiration, and
delights to do. Lucan is systematically a fine
writer; on every occasion his ambition is to pro-
duce the most highly-wrought and emphatic
passage of which the subject admits. As was
said on a more serious occasion, all his works are
done to be seen of men. There is no seriousness
in his devotion to his art—he sacrifices nothing
to it; on the contrary, he sacrifices his art to
himself. He could not say with truth, as his
predecessor says with an emphasis unusual to
him—

Me vero primnm dukes ante omnia Muse
Quarum sacra fero, ingenti percussus amore
Accipiant.

An English Girl's Account of a Moravian
Settlement in the Black Forest. Edited by the
Author of " Mary Powell." London : Hall
and Virtue.

" HAPPY is the country," it has been said, "which
" has no history ! " And happy, we may say, is
the sect which continues from age to age, with
no schism to engage the attention of the eccle-
siastical writer, and suffering no persecution which
can excite the pity of the tolerant Christian.
The Moravian communities are probably the
most blameless on the face of the earth; it is,
perhaps, unjust to call them a sect, for they are
older than the Reformation, are in communion
with Protestant Churches, and their creed and
practice contains nothing which Luther thought

it necessary to alter. Not that they have by anv
means escaped persecution ; but in this respt.
they have fared much better than most religious
bodies. Except their expulsion from Bohemia in
1547 and their dispersion during the Thirty
Years' War, they have suffered none of the evils
that strong belief and conscientious practice
generally entail upon their professors. in 1722
they were settled by Count Zinzendorf on an
estate of his in Upper Lusatia, where they built a
village, which has since become famous under the
name of Herrnhut ; and, after the Saxon
Government had refused to allow the inunigra.
tion of any more settlers, other places were found
in which the disciples might establish themselves.
They are now domiciled in Silesia, Switzerland,
Russia, Prussia, Baden, the Netherlands, Hol-
stein, America, and England. " They have
" several public schools for girls as well as boys,
" and young French and English ladies are
" sometimes included among the pupils, owing to
" the excellent education and kind treatment
" they receive."

The young lady whose diary is now before us,
having been formerly a pupil at the Moravian
school at Neuwied, on the Rhine, came to
Kiinigsfeld, in the Grand Duchy of Baden, on the
16th July, 1856, and remained there till the 24th
November, 1857 ; and appears during these six-
teen months to have led as peaceful and happy a
life as it is often the lot even of an " English
girl" to experience. The spot was situated in
one of the most charming districts of the Black
Forest. Embosomed in fir-woods, which at a
distance blacken the landscape, but lose their
gloomy aspect on a nearer approach, and with
their gurgling brooks and mossy paths invite the
traveller to explore their fragrant recesses, lies
the quiet village, its white walls and red tiled
roofs brightly contrasted with its dark green
setting ;—a Paraclete without its austerity, an
oasis of virtue and civilization among its wood-
land solitudes, where Eloisa, before she met
Abelard, might have dwelt in maiden meditation,
fancy-free:—

No weeping orphsn saw his father's stores
Those shrines irradiate or emblaze the floors:
But such plain roofs as piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
• • • • •

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Desires composed, affections ever even,
Tears that delight, and sighs that watt to heaven.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams.
The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclined
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wandering streams that shine between fee hills,
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
Still more these scenes her meditation aid
And lull to rest the visionary maid.
Really these lines of Pope—barring the twinge of
asceticism—would form no bad description of such
a colony as is here described. Konigsfeld was
a Moravian settlement pur sang, containing no
persons of any other persuasion. Moravians do
not trouble themselves much with speculative
theology, and keep up as great a community of
creed as possible with other Churches. Their
difference from them lies not in their doctrine,
but in their discipline, which seems to realize in
a degree what Platonic philosophers have dreamed
of some perfect city, with its orderly distribution
of employments, its classification of duties, its
cultivation of sacred music and useful labour, and
even an approach to a supervision of marriages
by the governing body. There are no private
dwellings in a settlement except those belonging
to families; bachelors, spinsters, and widows
occupy three houses respectively appropriated to
them, and the other public buildings usually com-
prise school-houses for boys and girls, a chapel,
and an inn. The authoress of course lived in the
sisters' house, a large building like a college or
hospital, with corridors, dormitories, workrooms,
public rooms, and the like. The routine of the
establishment is perfectly regular, being. under
the superintendence of an inspector and inspee-
treas. There is nothing peculiar about the dress
of the pupils but the little white cap, which dis-
tinguishes by the colour of its ribbons the condi-
tion of the wearer—pink for children and yo!ing
people, and blue' for married women. Little
domestic duties are performed, as in many Eng:,
fish households, by the girls taking each "Neck
in succession. The following is the routine of
the day as regards studies:—
At bsltpast five the teachers walk through the long .doi•
initory, where forty girls are stint) napping in their httls