eneth it with cramp-irons (16), and marketh it out with a line (17). Thus he frameth the walls together, and fasteneth the great pieces with pins."

In Section XCVIII. we have the picture of a school as it was in the first half of the seventeenth century. "A school," the "Orbis Pictus" tells us, "is a shop in which young wits are fashioned to vertue, and it is distinguished into forms. The master sitteth in a chair; the scholars, in forms. He teacheth, they learn. Some things are writ down before them with chalk on a table. Some sit at a table and write; he mendeth their faults. Some stand and rehearse things committed to memory. Some talk together, and behave themselves wantonly and carelessly. These are chastened with a ferrula and a rod."

The next picture might be taken for the original of Shakespeare's

"lean and slipper'd pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side.

His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank."

But it is only the student in his study. "He picketh all the best things out of books," says Comenius, "into his own manual, or marketh them in them with a dash, or a little star, in the margent. Being to sit up late, he setteth a candle on a candle-stick, which is snuff'd with snuffBefore the candle he placeth a screen, which is green, that it may not hurt his eye-sight; richer persons use a taper, for a tallow candle stinketh and smoaketh."

ers.

In Section C. there are four female figures; and I venture to say that no one who has not read the book will guess what they are intended to represent. The figure to the extreme left represents Grammar, which is

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conversant about letters, of which it maketh words, and teacheth how to utter, write, put together and part them rightly "-an infinitely better definition than Lindley Murray's. The second figure is Rhetoric, which "doth as it were paint a rude form of speech with oratory flourishes." The third is Poetry, which "gathereth these flowers of speech and tieth them as it were into a little garland and so making of prose a poem." The fourth is Music, which "setteth tunes with pricks, to which it setteth words, and so singeth alone, or in consort, or by voice, or musical instruments." The lady is evidently performing a solo, to the great distress of Grammar, Rhetoric, and Poetry.

After a lesson on musical instruments we are somewhat abruptly introduced, in Section CII., to Philosophy. In the in-door scene to the right there is a table with a heap of counters and a slate on which is written some kind of arithmetical problem; just what it would be difficult to say. Metaphysicus, the supernaturalist, who "searches out the causes and effects of things," is saluting Physicus, the naturalist, who "vieweth all

the works of God in the world." Apparently Comenius desired to impress upon his readers the superiority of Physicus over Metaphysicus.

In Section CIII. we get the first glimpse of geometry. "A geometrician," we are told," measureth the height of a tower, or the distance of places, either with a quadrant or a Jacob's staff. He maketh out the figures of things with lines, angles, and circles, by a rule, a square, and a pair of compasses. Out of these arise an oval, a triangle, a quadrangle, and other figures." And so endeth the first lesson in geometry.

To geography two sections are devoted, and they are chiefly valuable as showing the deplorable condition of geographical knowledge so late as the middle of the seventeenth century. The first gives us a map of the hemispheres, and in the attached lesson we are gravely informed that "The ocean compasseth the earth about, and five seas wash it, the Mediterranean Sea, the Baltic Sea, the Red Sea, the Persian Sea, and the Caspian Sea. Besides," he adds, "the earth is divided into three continents, this of ours, which is subdivided into Europe, Asia, and Africa; America, whose inhabitants are antipodes to us, and the South Land, yet unknown." To cap the climax, the lesson ends with the truly extraordinary statement, "Infinite islands swim (natant) in the sea." With the change of a single inflection, he might have applied to his islands the words of Vergil describing Æneas's ship-wrecked sailors, raræ nantes in gurgite vasto.

In the second lesson on geography, Section CVIII., we have a map of Europe, on which are depicted twenty-eight chief kingdoms. Unfortunately, the numbers by which these kingdoms are designated are now almost obliterated; but I have read that, in an earlier edition than that from which this picture is taken, Finland was placed between Norway and Sweden, and the word Switzerland was printed in capitals across the Black Sea.

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From geography to moral philosophy is an abrupt transition; but it is that which the student is next called upon to take. In Section CIX, he shows us an allegorical picture of life on the left, the broad path that belongs to vice; on the right, the narrow way that is the way of virtue. Mind, young man," he exclaims, "imitate Hercules; leave the left hand way, turn from vice, the enterance is fair, but the end is ugly and steep down. Go on the right hand, though it be thorny, no way is impassable to vertue, follow whither vertue leadeth through narrow places to stately palaces, to the tower of honour." But with characteristic caution he "Take heed thou do not go too much on the right hand."

ures.

adds: Then follow the virtues, personated by most unprepossessing female figPrudence, Section CVIII., like Janus, has two faces. With one she gazes in a looking-glass on things past. With the other, through a "perspective glass," she watches things to come. "She watcheth opportunity (which, having a bushy forehead, and, moreover, having wings, doth quickly slip away) and catcheth it."

Diligence is represented with a Tam-o-Shanter cap, a sickle in one hand and a rake in the other.

Temperance, which "restraineth the desire as with a bridle," is apparently pouring liquor with no unstinted hand from a bottle into a bowl, while in the background are several intemperate persons who seem to be very sick indeed.

Fortitude is a stalwart female, fully accoutered as a warrior, with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. She leans against a pillar and seems to have just got the better of a lion, which is walking away with most dejected mien.

Patience kneels, with a lamb on one side and an anchor on the other, in the attitude of prayer, while at a little distance one very impatient person tears his hair, and another kills himself by falling on his sword.

Justice sits on a square stone, "for she ought to be immovable, with hoodwinked eyes, that she may not respect persons, stopping the left ear to be reserved for the other party,” and holding in her right hand a sword to punish, a bridle to restrain, and a pair of scales to weigh.

The most amusing, however, of these allegorical representations is that of Humanity (Section CXV.). Two stout women, whom the artist makes more than usually repulsive, are embracing. Whichever is the uglier bids the other be "sweet and lovely in her countenance, gentle and civil in her behavior and manners." In the background are seen two pairs of "froward men," one pair wrestling, the other fighting a duel with swords. In the front two turtle-doves are billing and cooing, while in the extreme distance Envy, a miserable looking object, “pineth away herself.”

The remainder of the book is occupied with subjects of a miscellaneous character. There is a picture of a marriage ceremony, in which the bride has a face like a hatchet, and the groom is a simpering idiot. The various degrees of relationship are shown in a "tree of consanguinity." The course of a boy's life is shown from the cradle until, with a most mournful countenance, he is seen reading a good book, and laboring with his hands. Masters and servants, the parts of a city, a court of justice, and the tormenting of malefactors-depicted with details too horrible for description are each treated in a separate section. A ghastly picture of a burial is succeeded somewhat incongruously in Section CXXX. by a stage play. The attention of the audience is divided between the return of the prodigal son and the clown who is performing his antics and cracking his jokes. Then come various sports, such as the fencing-school, tennis, "that is the sport of noblemen to stir their bodies," dice, cards, and chess, foot-racing, and all manner of children's sports, which differ but very slightly from those that may be seen every day on our own streets.

Chapters on Warfare, that are illustrated with cuts fearfully and wonderfully made, are followed by, one on Religion, which he divides into Gentileism, Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism.

It is curious to observe, however, how far this good and highly intellectual man was from being able to divest himself of the superstitions of his time. In writing of God's providence, Section CXLIX., he says: "Men's states are not to be attributed to fortune or chance, or the influence of the stars,” and naïvely adds, "comets, indeed, are wont to portend no good." In the picture a man is supposed to be giving his right hand to a good angel, while with his left he repels the devil, who is trying to put a noose around his neck. Behind is a witch who is drawing a circle around herself and calling upon the devil with charms. "Wo," exclaims Comenius, "to the mad wizzards and witches who give themselves to the devil; they dally with him and fall from God, for they shall receive their reward with him." Comenius was once invited to become president of Harvard College. He had passed away, however, before the horrors of the witchcraft delusion fell on New England.

After a truly shocking illustration of the Last Judgment we are again, in the last section, brought face to face with the same chubby schoolboy who started out on this strange journey through an unknown world, and the same stern schoolmaster who was his guide. "Thus," says the schoolmaster, "thou hast seen, in short, all things that can be shewed, and hast learned the chief words of the English and Latin tongue. Go on now and read other good books diligently, and thou shalt become learned, wise, and godly-doctus, sapiens, et pius."

It would not be difficult to point out the faults of the "Orbis Pictus." The vocabulary is as far beyond the child's powers of memory as are much of the subject-matter and many of the terms used beyond his comprehension. In his old age Comenius himself admitted that he had attempted too much; that it is better to know a few things well than many things poorly. From his face you may clearly judge that his whole life was au exemplification of Chaucer's noble line regarding the clerk of Oxford:

“Gladly would he learn and gladly teach.”

We may smile at the rude pictures, we may deplore the attempt to give an outline of all knowledge and a complete vocabulary at a single dose in one book. But we may well ask how far we have advanced since his day. There are those among us, we must confess, who still believe that the vocabulary of our own language is to be learned through a book that has all of the defects and none of the merits of the "Janua" or the "Orbis Pictus”—the modern spelling-book. We may laugh at the quaintness of many of his sentences, but let us not forget that we ourselves were required to translate into French sentences such as, "The old kitten of the young cat smiled pleasantly from the back fence of the house of the uncle of my mother's cousin." His text-books were a great advance on those 1

in use.

They were in advance because he followed the lead of ian logic. The evolution of text-books has progressed just in

as their writers have followed the laws of investigation in natural science. That such an evolution has progressed and is still progressing, there can be no doubt. The spelling-book and many other school books are but the reversions to primitive barbarism that accompany every form of evolution, whether physical, intellectual, or social.

III.

THE PLACE OF COMENIUS IN THE HISTORY OF EDUCATION.

BY DR. NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER, COLUMBIA COLLEGE, NEW YORK.

Travelers in distant lands describe rivers which are seemingly absorbed by the sandy desert. They disappear and leave little or no trace behind them. After a time, perhaps many miles away, the stream reappears. It gathers force and volume with going, and lends its fertilizing power to the surrounding country. Even while hidden to view, it has not ceased. to exist. Though the arid wastes have concealed its course, its effect has been felt beneath the surface, and here and there is a green oasis to mark its silent path. Human history is rich in analogies to this natural phenomenon, and in Comenius the history of education furnishes its example. In life he was persecuted for his religious convictions, and sought after for his educational ideas. In death he was neglected and forgotten by friends and foes alike. It could be said of him, as the Emperor Julian said of the Epicureans, he was so completely stamped out that even his books were scarce. But the great educational revival of our century, and particularly of our generation, has shed the bright light of scholarly investigation into all the dark places; and to-day, at the three hundredth anniversary of his birth, the fine old Moravian bishop is being honored wherever teachers gather together, and wherever education is the theme. We have found in Comenius the source and the forecasting of much that inspires and directs our new education.

It is difficult to project one's self back into a time when our present environment-social, political, material—was in its infancy, and when modern invention had annihilated neither time nor space. It is still more difficult to give due credit to one who at such a time saw visions and dreamed dreams that we have since realized to the full. What is commonplace to-day was genius three hundred years ago.

America was one hundred years old when Comenius was born, but the wilderness of the New World was unbroken. Neither at Jamestown nor at Plymouth had a permanent settlement been established. The Spanish Armada had just been defeated, and the future of Great Britain made