[83] 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.
[84] Ruskin seems to be echoing Comenius (of whom perhaps he never heard) when he says “To be taught to see is to gain word and thought at once, and both true.” (Address at Camb. Sch. of Art, Oct. 1858.)
[85] As far as my experience goes there are few men capable both of teaching and being taught, and of these rare beings Comenius was a noble example. The passage in which he acknowledges his obligation to the Jesuits’ Janua is a striking proof of his candour and open-mindedness.
As an experiment in language-teaching this Janua is a very interesting book, and will be well worth a note. From Augustin and Alois de Backer’s Bibliothèque des Ecrivains de la C. de Jésus, I learn that the author William Bath or Bathe [Latin Bateus] was born in Dublin in 1564, and died in Madrid in 1614. “A brief introduction to the skill of song as set forth by William Bathe, gent.” is attributed to him; but we know nothing of his origin or occupation till he entered on the Jesuit noviciate at Tournai in 1596. Either before or after this “he ran” as he himself tells us “the pleasant race of study” at Beauvais. After studying at Padua he was sent as Spiritual Father to the Irish College at Salamanca. Here, according to C. Sommervogel he wrote two Latin books. He also designed the Janua Linguarum, and carried out the plan with the help of the other members of the college. The book was published at Salamanca “apud de Cea Tesa” 1611, 4to. Four years afterwards an edition with English version added was published in London edited by Wm. Welde. I have never seen the Spanish version, but a copy of Welde’s edition (wanting title page) was bequeathed to me by a friend honoured by all English-speaking students of education, Joseph Payne. The Janua must have had great success in this country, and soon had other editors. In an old catalogue I have seen “Janua Linguarum Quadrilinguis, or a Messe of Tongues, Latine, English, French, Spanish, neatly served up together for a wholesome repast to the worthy curiositie of the studious, sm. 4to, Matthew Lowndes, 1617.” This must have been the early edition of Isaac Habrecht. I have his “Janua Linguarum Silinguis. Argentinæ (Strassburg), 1630,” and in the Preface he says that the first English edition came out in 1615, and that he had added a French version and published the book at London in four languages in 1617. I have seen “sixth edition 1627,” also published by Lowndes, and edited “opera I. H. (John Harmar, called in Catalogue of British Museum ‘Rector of Ewhurst’) Scholæ Sancti Albani Magistri primarii.” Harmar, I think, suppressed all mention of the author of the book, but he kept the title. This seems to have been altered by the celebrated Scioppius who published the book as Pascasii Grosippi Mercurius bilinguis.
This Jesuits’ Janua is one of the most interesting experiments in language teaching I ever met with. Bathe and his co-adjutors collected as they believed all the common root words in the Latin language; and these they worked up into 1,200 short sentences in the form of proverbs. After the sentences follows a short Appendix De ambiguis of which the following is a specimen: “Dum malum comedis juxta malum navis, de malo commisso sub malo vetita meditare. While thou eatest an apple near the mast of a ship, think of the evil committed under the forbidden apple tree.” An alphabetical index of all the Latin words is then given, with the number of the sentence in which the word occurs.
Prefixed to this Janua we find some introductory chapters in which the problem: What is the best way of learning a foreign language? is considered and some advance made towards a solution. “The body of every language consisteth of four principal members—words, congruity, phrases, and elegancy. The dictionary sets down the words, grammar the congruities, Authors the phrases, and Rhetoricians (with their figures) the elegancy. We call phrases the proper forms or peculiar manners of speaking which every Tongue hath.” (Chap. 1 ad f.) Hitherto, says Bathe, there have been in use, only two ways of learning a language, “regular, such as is grammar, to observe the congruities; and irregular such as is the common use of learners, by reading and speaking in vulgar tongues.” The “regular” way is more certain, the “irregular” is easier. So Bathe has planned a middle way which is to combine the advantages of the other two. The “congruities” are learnt regularly by the grammar. Why are not the “words” learned regularly by the dictionary? 1st, Because the Dictionary contains many useless words; 2nd, because compound words may be known from the root words without special learning; 3rd, because words as they stand in the Dictionary bear no sense and so cannot be remembered. By the use of this Janua all these objections will be avoided. Useful words and root words only are given, and they are worked up into sentences “easy to be remembered.” And with the exception of a few little words such as et, in, qui, sum, fio no word occurs a second time; thus, says Bathe, the labour of learning the language will be lightened and “as it was much more easy to have known all the living creatures by often looking into Noe’s Ark, wherein was a selected couple of each kind, than by travelling over all the world until a man should find here and there a creature of each kind, even in the same manner will all the words be far more easily learned by use of these sentences than by hearing, speaking or reading until a man do accidentally meet with every particular word.” (Proeme ad f.) “We hope no man will be so ingrateful as not to think this work very profitable,” says the author. For my own part I feel grateful for such an earnest attempt at “retrieving of the curse of Babylon,” but I cannot show my gratitude by declaring “this work very profitable.” The attempt to squeeze the greater part of a language into 1,200 short sentences could produce nothing better than a curiosity. The language could not be thus squeezed into the memory of the learner.
[86] This book must have had a great sale in England. Anchoran’s version (the Latin title of which is Porta not Janua) went through several editions. I have a copy of Janua Linguarum Reserata “formerly translated by Tho. Horn: afterwards much corrected and amended by Joh. Robotham: now carefully reviewed and exactly compared with all former editions, foreign and others, and much enlarged both in the Latine and English: together with a Portall ... by G. P. 1647.” “W. D.” was a subsequent editor, and finally it was issued by Roger Daniel, to whom Comenius dedicates from Amsterdam in 1659 as “Domino Rogero Danieli, Bibliopolæ ac Typographo Londinensi celeberrimo.”