Note 83 — X. COMENIUS. (1592-1671).

When I visited (some years ago) the “École Modèle” at Brussels I was told that books were used for nothing except for learning to read. Comenius was saved from this consequence of his realism by his fervent Christianity. He valued the study of the Bible as highly as the Renascence scholars valued the study of the classics, though for a very different reason. He cared for the Bible not as literature, but as the highest authority on the problems of existence. Those who, like Matthew Arnold, may attribute to it far less authority may still treasure it as literature, while those who despise literature and recognise no authority above things would limit us to the curriculum of the “École Modèle” and care for natural science only.

In this country we are fortunately able to advocate some reforms which were suggested by the realism of Comenius without incurring any suspicion of rejecting his Christianity. It is singular to see how the highest authorities of to-day—men conversant with the subject on the side of practice as well as theory—hold precisely the language which practical men have been wont to laugh at as “theoretical nonsense” ever since the days of Comenius. A striking instance will be found in a lecture by the Principal of the Battersea Training College (Rev. Canon Daniel) as reported in Educational Times, July, 1889. Compare what Comenius said (supra p. 151) with the following: “Children are not sufficiently required to use their senses. They are allowed to observe by deputy. They look at Nature through the spectacles of Books, and through the eyes of the teacher, but do not observe for themselves. It might be expected that in object lessons and science lessons, which are specially intended to cultivate the observing faculty, this fault would be avoided, but I do not find that such is the case. I often hear lessons on objects that are not object lessons at all. The object is not allowed to speak for itself, eloquent though it is, and capable though it is of adapting its teaching to the youngest child who interrogates it. The teacher buries it under a heap of words and second-hand statements, thereby converting the object lesson into a verbal lesson and throwing away golden opportunities of forming the scientific habit of mind. Now mental science teaches us that our knowledge of the sensible qualities of the material world can come to us only through our senses, and through the right senses. If we had no senses we should know nothing about the material world at all; if we had a sense less we should be cut off from a whole class of facts; if we had as many senses as are ascribed to the inhabitants of Sirius in Voltaire’s novel, our knowledge would be proportionately greater than it is now. Words cannot compensate for sensations. The eloquence of a Cicero would not explain to a deaf man what music is, or to a blind man what scarlet is. Yet I have frequently seen teachers wholly disregard these obvious truths. They have taught as though their pupils had eyes that saw not, and ears that heard not, and noses that smelled not, and palates that tasted not, and skins that felt not, and muscles that would not work. They have insisted on taking the words out of Nature’s mouth and speaking for her. They have thought it derogatory to play a subordinate part to the object itself.”

This subject has been well treated by Mr. Thos. M. Balliet in a paper on shortening the curriculum (New York School Journal, 10th Nov., 1888). “Studies,” says he, “are of two kinds (1) studies which supply the mind with thoughts of images, and (2) those which give us ‘labels,’ i.e. the means of indicating and so communicating thought. Under the last head come the study of language, writing (including spelling), notation, &c.” Mr. Balliet proposes, as Comenius did, that the symbol subjects shall not be taken separately, but in connexion with the thought subjects. Especially in the mother-tongue, we should study language for thought, not thought for the sake of language.

But after all though we may and should bring the young in connexion with the objects of thought and not with words merely, we must not forget that the scholastic aspect of things will differ from the practical. When brought into the schoolroom the thing must be divested of details and surroundings, and used to give a conception of one of a class. The fir tree of the schoolboy cannot be the fir tree of the wood-cutter. The “boiler” becomes a cylinder subject to internal or external pressure. It is not the thing that the engine-driver knows will burn and corrode, get foul in its tubes and loose in its joints, and be liable to burst. (See Mr. C. H. Benton on “Practical and Theoretical Training” in Spectator, 10th Nov., 1888). The school knowledge of things no less than of words may easily be over-valued. It should be given not for itself but to excite interest and draw out the powers of the mind.