The Great Didactic of John Amos Comenius/The Great Didactic/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
THE SEEDS OF THESE THREE (LEARNING, VIRTUE, AND PIETY) ARE NATURALLY IMPLANTED IN US
1. By the word nature we mean, not the corruption which has laid hold of all men since the Fall (on which account we are naturally called the children of wrath, unable of ourselves to have any good thoughts), but our first and original condition, to which, as to a starting-point, we must be recalled. It was in this sense that Ludovicus Vives15 said, “What else is a Christian but a man restored to his own nature, and, as it were, brought back to the starting-point from which the devil has thrown him?” (Lib. i. De Concordia et Discordia). In this sense, too, must we take the words of Seneca, “This is wisdom, to return to nature and to the position from which universal error (that is to say, the error of the human race, originated by the first men) has driven us,” and again, “Man is not good but becomes so, as, mindful of his origin, he strives toward equality with God. No man who is viciously inclined ventures the ascent towards the place whence he descended” (Epist. 93).
2. By the voice of nature we understand the universal Providence of God or the influence of Divine Goodness which never ceases to work all in all things; that is to say, which continually developes each creature for the end to which it has been destined. For it is a sign of the divine wisdom to do nothing in vain, that is to say, without a definite end or without means proportionate to that end. Whatever exists, therefore, exists for some end, and has been provided with the organs and appliances necessary to attain to it. It has also been gifted with a certain inclination, that nothing may be borne towards its end unwillingly and reluctantly, but rather promptly and pleasantly, by the natural instinct that pain and death will ensue if any obstacle be placed in the way. And so it is certain that man also is naturally fitted for the understanding of facts, for existence in harmony with the moral law, and above all things for the love of God (since for these we have already seen that he is destined), and that the roots of these three principles are as firmly planted in him as are the roots of any tree in the earth beneath it.
3. In order, therefore, that we may thoroughly understand the saying of the son of Sirach, that Wisdom has placed everlasting foundations in man (Ecclesiasticus i. 14), let us examine the foundations of Wisdom, of Virtue, and of Piety, which have been laid in us, that we may see what a marvellous instrument of wisdom man is.
4. It is evident that man is naturally capable of acquiring a knowledge of all things, since, in the first place, he is the image of God. For an image, if it be accurate, necessarily reproduces the outlines of its archetype, as otherwise it will not be an image. Now omniscience is chief among the properties of God, and it follows that the image of this must be reflected in man. And why not? Man, in truth, stands in the centre of the works of God and possesses a lucid mind, which, like a spherical mirror suspended in a room, reflects images of all things that are around it. All things that are around it, we say; for our mind not only seizes on things that are close at hand, but also on things that are far off, whether in space or in time; it masters difficulties, hunts out what is concealed, uncovers what is veiled, and wears itself out in examining what is inscrutable; so infinite and so unbounded is its power. If a thousand years were granted to man, in which, by grasping one thing after another, he might continually learn something fresh, he would still find some spot from which the understanding might gain fresh objects of knowledge.
So unlimited is the capacity of the mind that in the process of perception it resembles an abyss. The body is enclosed by small boundaries; the voice roams within wider limits; the sight is bounded only by the vault of heaven; but for the mind, neither in heaven nor anywhere outside heaven, can a boundary be fixed. It ascends as far over the heavens above as below the depths beneath, and would do so if they were even a thousand times more vast than they are; for it penetrates through space with incredible speed. Shall we then deny that it can fathom and grasp all things?
5. Philosophers have called man a Microcosm or Epitome of the Universe, since he inwardly comprehends all the elements that are spread far and wide through the Macrocosm, or world at large; a statement the truth of which is shown elsewhere. The mind, therefore, of a man who enters this world is very justly compared to a seed or to a kernel in which the plant or tree really does exist, although its image cannot actually be seen. This is evident; since the seed, if placed in the ground, puts forth roots beneath it and shoots above it, and these, later on, by their innate force, spread into branches and leaves, are covered with foliage, and adorned with flowers and fruit. It is not necessary, therefore, that anything be brought to a man from without, but only that that which he possesses rolled up within himself be unfolded and disclosed, and that stress be laid on each separate element. Thus Pythagoras used to say that was so natural for a man to be possessed of all knowledge, that a boy of seven years old, if prudently questioned on all the problems of philosophy, ought to be able to give a correct answer to each interrogation; since the light of Reason is a sufficient standard and measure of all things. Still it is true that, since the Fall, Reason has become obscure and involved, and does not know how to set itself free; while those who ought to have done so have rather entangled it the more.
6. To the rational soul, that dwells within us, organs of sense have been supplied, which may be compared to emissaries and scouts, and by the aid of these it compasses all that lies without. These are sight, hearing, smell, sound, and touch, and there is nothing whatever that can escape their notice. For, since there is nothing in the visible universe which cannot be seen, heard, smelt, tasted, or touched, and the kind and quality of which cannot in this way be discerned, it follows that there is nothing in the universe which cannot be compassed by a man endowed with sense and reason.
7. In addition to the desire for knowledge that is implanted in him, man is imbued not merely with a tolerance of but with an actual appetite for toil. This is evident in earliest childhood, and accompanies us throughout life. For who is there that does not always desire to see, hear, or handle something new? To whom is it not a pleasure to go to some new place daily, to converse with some one, to narrate something, or have some fresh experience? In a word, the eyes, the ears, the sense of touch, the mind itself, are, in their search for food, ever carried beyond themselves; for to an active nature nothing is so intolerable as ease and sloth. Even the fact that the ignorant admire learned men is but a sign that they feel the promptings of a certain natural desire. For they would wish themselves to be partakers of this wisdom, could they deem it possible. But, since they despair, they only sigh, and marvel at those whom they see in advance of them.
8. The examples of those who are self-taught show us most plainly that man, under the guidance of nature, can penetrate to a knowledge of all things. Many have made greater progress under their own tuition, or (as Bernard16 says) with oaks and beeches for their teachers, than others have done under the irksome instruction of tutors. Does not this teach us that, in very truth, all things exist in man; that the lamp, the oil, the tinder, and all the appliances are there, and that if only he be sufficiently skilled to strike sparks, to catch them, and to kindle the lamp, he can forthwith see and can reap the fullest enjoyment of the marvellous treasures of God’s wisdom, both in himself and in the larger world; that is to say, can appreciate the numerical and proportional arrangement of the whole creation. Now, when the internal lamp is not lit, but the torches of strange opinions are carried round without, the effect must be as if lights were carried round a man shut up in a dark dungeon; the rays indeed penetrate the chinks, but the full light is unable to enter. Thus, as Seneca says: “The seeds of all arts are implanted in us, and God the master brings forth intellect from the darkness.”
9. The things to which our minds may be likened teach the same lesson. For the earth (with which the Scriptures often compare our heart) receives seeds of every description. One and the same garden can be sown with herbs, with flowers, and with aromatic plants of every kind, if only the gardener lack not prudence and industry. And the greater the variety, the pleasanter the sight to the eyes, the sweeter the attraction to the nose, and the more potent the refreshment to the heart. Aristotle compared the mind of man to a blank tablet on which nothing was written, but on which all things could be engraved. And, just as a writer can write or a painter paint whatever he wishes on a bare tablet, if he be not ignorant of his art, thus it is easy for one who is not ignorant of the art of teaching to depict all things on the human mind. If the result be not successful, it is more than certain that this is not the fault of the tablet (unless it have some inherent defect), but arises from ignorance on the part of the writer or painter. There is, however, this difference, that on the tablet the writing is limited by space, while, in the case of the mind, you may continually go on writing and engraving without finding any boundary, because, as has already been shown, the mind is without limit.
10. Again, the comparison of our brain, the workshop of thought, to wax which either receives the impress of a seal, or furnishes the material for small images, is an apt one. For just as wax, taking every form, allows itself to be modelled and remodelled in any desired way, so the brain, receiving the images of all things, takes into itself whatever is contained in the whole universe. This comparison throws a remarkable light on the true nature of thought and of knowledge. Whatever makes an impression on my organ of sight, hearing, smell, taste, or touch, stands to me in the relation of a seal by which the image of the object is impressed upon my brain. So true is this simile that when the object is removed from my eyes, my ears, my nostrils, or my hand, its image still remains before me; nor is it possible that it should not remain, unless my attention has wandered and the impression has been a weak one. For example, if I have seen or spoken to any one; if, when taking a journey, I have seen a mountain, a river, a field, a wood, or a town, or if I have read anything attentively in some author, all these things are imprinted on the brain, so that, as often as the recollection of them comes into my mind, the effect is the same as if I were actually seeing them with my eyes, hearing them with my ears, tasting them, or feeling them. And although of these impressions the brain places one before the other or receives some more distinctly and vividly than others, it still, in some way or other, receives, represents, and retains them all.
11. Here we have mirrored before us the marvellous wisdom of God, who was able to arrange that the small mass of our brains should be sufficient to receive so many thousands of images. For, if the particulars can be remembered of anything that any of us (and this applies particularly to men of learning) have, many years before, seen, heard, tasted, read, or collected by experience or by reasoning, it is evident that these details must be carried in the brain. Yet it is a fact that images of objects formerly seen, heard, or read of, of which thousands of thousands and many more exist, and which are daily multiplied as we daily see, hear, read, or experience something new, are all carefully stored up. What inscrutable wisdom and power of God lies here? Solomon wonders that all rivers run into the sea, and that yet the sea is not full (Eccles. i. 7), and who will not marvel at this abyss of memory which exhausts all things, which gives all back again, and yet is never overfull or too void? In truth our mind is greater than the universe, since that which contains is necessarily greater than that which is contained.
12. Finally, the eye (or a mirror) resembles the mind in many ways. If you hold anything before it, of whatever shape or colour, it will soon display a similar image in itself. That is to say, unless you are in the dark, or turn your back, or are too far off, at a distance greater than is fitting, or hinder the impression, or confuse it by movement; for in these cases it must be confessed that the result will be failure. I speak, therefore, of what takes place naturally, when light is present and the object is suitably placed. Just as, then, there is no need for the eye to be compelled to open and look at any object, since, naturally thirsting for light, it rejoices to be fed by gazing, and suffices for all objects (provided that it be not confused by too many at once), and just as it can never be satiated by seeing, so does the mind thirst for objects, ever longs and yearns to observe, grasps at, nay, seizes on all information, and is indefatigable, provided that it be not surfeited with an excess of objects, and that they be presented to its observation one after the other, and in the proper order.
13. Even the heathen philosophers saw that a harmony of morals was necessary for man, although, being ignorant of that other light granted by heaven, which is the most certain guide to eternal life, they set up these sparks as torches; a vain endeavour. Thus Cicero says: “The seeds of virtue are sown in our dispositions, and, if they were allowed to develope, nature herself would lead us to the life of the blest.” This goes rather too far! “Now, however, from the time when we are brought forth to the light of day, we continually move in all wickedness, so that we almost seem to suck in faults with our nurse’s milk” (Tuscul. iii.) Thus the truth of the statement that the seeds of virtue are born with man is bound up with this twofold argument: (1) every man delights in harmony; (2) man himself, externally and internally, is nothing but a harmony.
14. That man delights in harmony and pursues it greedily, is obvious. For who does not take pleasure in a well-made man, an elegant horse, a beautiful portrait, or a charming picture? And what is the reason of this if not that the proportion of the parts and of the colours is a source of enjoyment? This pleasure of the eye is very natural. Again, who is not affected by music? and why? Because a harmony of voices makes a pleasing consonance. To whom does well-flavoured food not taste good? For the proper mixing of the flavours tickles the palate. Every man rejoices in moderate heat, in moderate cold, in the moderate inactivity or motion of the limbs. Why? if not because everything that is harmonised is congenial and lifegiving to nature, while everything that lacks moderation is hostile and harmful to her.
Even the virtues of others are a source of admiration to some people (for those devoid of them like them in others; though they may not imitate them, thinking good habits impossible to acquire when once vice has got the upper hand). Why then should not each man like them in himself? Surely we are blind if we do not recognise that we all have within us the roots of harmony.
15. Indeed, man is nothing but a harmony, both in respect of his body and of his mind. For, just as the great world itself is like an immense piece of clockwork put together with many wheels and bells, and arranged with such art that throughout the whole structure one part depends on the other, and the movements are perpetuated and harmonised; thus it is with man. The body is indeed constructed with wonderful skill. First of all comes the heart, the source of all life and action, from which the other members receive motion and the measurement of motion. The weight, the efficient cause of motion, is the brain, which by the help of the nerves, as of ropes, attracts and repels the other wheels or limbs, while the variety of operations within and without depends on the commensurate proportion of the movements.
16. In the movements of the soul the most important wheel is the will; while the weights are the desires and affections which incline the will this way or that. The escapement is the reason, which measures and determines what, where, and how far anything should be sought after or avoided. The other movements of the soul resemble the less important wheels which depend on the principal one. Wherefore, if too much weight be not given to the desires and affections, and if the escapement, reason, select and exclude properly, it is impossible that the harmony and agreement of virtues should not follow, and this evidently consists of a proper blending of the active and the passive elements.
17. Man, then, is in himself nothing but a harmony, and, as in the case of a clock or of a musical instrument which a skilled artificer has constructed, we do not forthwith pronounce it to be of no further use if it become disorganised and corrupt (for it can be put to rights); thus, with regard to man, we may say that, no matter how disorganised by his fall into sin, he can, through the grace of God and by certain methods, be restored again to harmony.
18. That the roots of piety are present in man is shown by the fact that he is the image of God. For an image implies likeness, and that like rejoices in like, is an immutable law of nature (Eccles. xii. 7). Since, then, man’s only equal is He in whose image he has been made, it follows that there is no direction in which he can be more easily carried by his desires than towards the fountain whence he took his origin; provided that he clearly understand the conditions of his existence.
19. The same thing is shown by the example of the moral philosophers, who, instructed by no word of God, but led by the blind instinct of nature, both acknowledged the Deity, venerated Him, and called upon His name, though they erred in the manner in which they put their religion into practice. “All men have some conception of the gods, and all assign the highest place to a divine being,” writes Aristotle (De Cælo, i. 3). Seneca also says: “The worship of the gods consists first in believing in them; then in acknowledging their majesty and their goodness, without which no majesty exists; then in recognising that it is they who preside over the world, include everything under their dominion, and act as guardians of the human race” (Epist. 96). How closely this resembles what the Apostle says (Hebrews xi. 6): “He that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that seek after him.”
20. Plato also says: “God is the highest good, elevated high above all existence and above nature; towards which all creation strives” (Timaeus). And this is so true (that God is the highest good, which all things seek) that Cicero was able to say: “The first to teach us piety is nature” (De Natura Deorum, i.) And this is because (as Lactantius17 writes, bk. iv. ch. 28): “We receive pardon on condition that we give just and due worship to the God who produced us. Him alone let us know and follow. By this chain of piety we have been bound and linked to God, and it is from this fact that religion derives its name.”
21. It must be confessed that the natural desire for God, as the highest good, has been corrupted by the Fall, and has gone astray, so that no man, of his strength alone, could return to the right way. But in those whom God illumines by the Word and by His Spirit it is so renewed, that we find David exclaiming: “Whom have I in heaven but thee? And there is none on earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever” (Psalm lxxiii. 25, 26).
22. Therefore, while we are seeking for the remedies of corruption, let none cast corruption in our teeth. For God will remove it through His Holy Ghost and by the intervention of natural means. For as Nebuchadnezzar, when human reason was taken from him and the soul of a beast was his, yet retained the hope of returning to his senses, and to his royal dignity as well, as soon as he acknowledged that heaven was his superior (Daniel iv. 25), so to us, who are trees rooted out of God’s Paradise, the roots are left, and these can germinate afresh when the rain and the sun of God’s grace are shed upon them. Did not God, soon after the Fall, and after the exile threatened to us (the penalty of death), sow in our hearts the seeds of fresh grace (by the promise of His blessed offspring)? Did He not send His Son to restore us to our former estate?
23. It is base, wicked, and an evident sign of ingratitude, that we continually complain of our corrupt state, but make no effort to reform it; that we bring forward what the old Adam can work in us, but never experience what the new Adam, Christ, can do. The Apostle says in his own name and in that of his Redeemer: “I can do all things through him that strengtheneth me” (Phil. iv. 13). If it be possible for a shoot grafted on a willow, on a thorn, or on any other shrub, to germinate and bear fruit, what would it not do if grafted on a stock similar to itself? See the argument of the Apostle (Romans xi. 24). In addition, if God is able from these stones to raise up children unto Abraham (Matthew iii. 9), why should He not be able to excite to good works man, the son of God from the first creation, adopted anew through Christ, and born again through the Spirit of grace?
24. Ah! let us beware lest we neglect the grace of God, which He is prepared to pour most liberally upon us. For if we, who are made one with Christ through faith, and dedicated to Him through the spirit of adoption, if we, I say, deny that we, with our offspring, are fit for those things which are of the kingdom of God, how was it that Christ said of children that theirs was the kingdom of heaven? or how can He refer us to them, bidding us to become as little children, if we wish to enter into the kingdom of heaven? (Matthew xviii. 3).
How is it that the Apostle pronounces the children of Christians to be sacred (even where one only of the parents is faithful), and says that they are not unclean (1 Cor. vii. 14). Even of those who have been implicated in the gravest crimes the Apostle dares to affirm: “Such were some of you; but ye were washed, but ye were sanctified, but ye were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God” (1. Cor. vi. 11). Can it therefore appear impracticable to any one, when we demand that the children of Christians (not the offspring of the old Adam but of the new, the sons of God, the little brothers and sisters of Christ) may be carefully trained, and declare that they are to receive in their hearts the seeds of eternity? We do not indeed demand fruit from a wild olive, but we come to the assistance of grafts freshly grafted on the tree of life, and help them to bear fruit.
25. We see, then, that it is more natural, and, through the grace of the Holy Spirit, easier for a man to become wise, honest, and righteous, than for his progress to be hindered by incidental depravity. For everything returns easily to its own nature, and this it is that the Scriptures say: “Truth is easily seen by those who love her, and can readily be found by those who seek her. She grants herself to the understanding, and those who wait before her door obtain her without trouble” (Wisdom vi. 13, 15). As the poet of Venusia says:
No one is so wild that he cannot be tamed,
If he patiently turn his ear to instruction and knowledge.