“My friend, once more I awake from a dream; once more I see my work destroyed, and my failing strength wasted.“But, however weak and unfortunate my attempt, a friend of humanity will not grudge a few moments to consider the reasons which convince me that some day a more fortunate posterity will certainly take up the thread of my hopes at the place where it is now broken....“I once more made known, as well as I could, my old wishes for the education of the people. In particular, I laid my whole scheme before Legrand (then one of the Directors), who not only took a warm interest in it, but agreed with me that the Republic stood in urgent need of a reform of public education. He also agreed with me that much might be done for the regeneration of the people by giving a certain number of the poorest children an education which should be complete, but which, far from lifting them out of their proper sphere, would but attach them the more strongly to it.“I limited my desires to this one point, Legrand helping me in every possible way. He even thought my views so important that he once said to me: ‘I shall not willingly give up my present post till you have begun your work.’ ...“It was my intention to try to find near Zurich or in Aargau a place where I should be able to join industry and agriculture to the other means of instruction, and so give my establishment all the development necessary to its complete success. But the Unterwalden disaster (September, 1798) left me no further choice in the matter. The Government felt the urgent need of sending help to this unfortunate district, and begged me for this once to make an attempt to put my plans into execution in a place where almost everything that could have made it a success was wanting.“I went there gladly. I felt that the innocence of the people would make up for what was wanting, and that their distress would, at any rate, make them grateful.“My eagerness to realise at last the great dream of my life would have led me to work on the very highest peaks of the Alps, and, so to speak, without fire or water.“For a house, the Government made over to me the new part of the Ursuline convent at Stanz, but when I arrived it was still uncompleted, and not in any way fitted to receive a large number of children. Before anything else could be done, then, the house itself had to be got ready.The Government gave the necessary orders, and Rengger pushed on the work with much zeal and useful activity. I was never indeed allowed to want for money.“In spite, however, of the admirable support I received, all this preparation took time, and time was precisely what we could least afford, since it was of the highest importance that a number of children, whom the war had left homeless and destitute, should be received at once.“I was still without everything but money when the children crowded in; neither kitchen, rooms, nor beds were ready to receive them. At first this was a source of inconceivable confusion. For the first few weeks I was shut up in a very small room; the weather was bad, and the alterations, which made a great dust and filled the corridors with rubbish, rendered the air very unhealthy.“The want of beds compelled me at first to send some of the poor children home at night; these children generally came back the next day covered with vermin. Most of them on their arrival were very degenerated specimens of humanity. Many of them had a sort of chronic skin-disease, which almost prevented their walking, or sores on their heads, or rags full of vermin; many were almost skeletons, with haggard, careworn faces, and shrinking looks; some brazen, accustomed to begging, hypocrisy, and all sorts of deceit; others broken by misfortune, patient, suspicious, timid, and entirely devoid of affection. There were also some spoilt children amongst them who had known the sweets of comfort, and were therefore full of pretensions. These kept to themselves, affected to despise the little beggars their comrades, and to suffer from this equality, and seemed to find it impossible to adapt themselves to the ways of the house, which differed too much from their old habits. But what was common to them all was a persistent idleness, resulting from their want of physical and mental activity. Out of every ten children there was hardly one who knew his A B C; as for any other knowledge, it was, of course, out of the question.“The entire absence of school learning was what troubled me least, for I trusted in the natural powers that God bestows on even the poorest and most neglected children. I had observed for a long time that behind their coarseness, shyness, and apparent incapacity, are hidden the finest faculties, the most precious powers; and now, even amongstthese poor creatures by whom I was surrounded at Stanz, marked natural abilities soon began to show themselves. I knew how useful the common needs of life are in teaching men the relations of things, in bringing out their natural intelligence, in forming their judgment, and in arousing faculties which, buried, as it were, beneath the coarser elements of their nature, cannot become active and useful till they are set free. It was my object then to set free these faculties, and bring them to bear on the pure and simple circumstances of domestic life, for I was convinced this was all that was wanting, and these natural faculties would shew themselves capable of raising the hearts and minds of my pupils to all that I could desire.“I saw then how my wishes might be carried out; and I was persuaded that my affection would change the state of my children just as quickly as the spring sun would awake to new life the earth that winter had benumbed. I was not deceiving myself: before the spring sun melted the snow of our mountains my children were hardly to be recognised.“But I must not anticipate. Just as in the evening I often mark the quick growth of the gourd by the side of the house, so I want you to mark the growth of my plant; and, my friend, I will not hide from you the worm which sometimes fastens on the leaves, sometimes even on the heart.“I opened the establishment with no other helper but a woman-servant. I had not only to teach the children, but to look after their physical needs. I preferred being alone, and, unfortunately, it was the only way to reach my end. No one in the world would have cared to enter into my views for the education of children, and at that time I knew scarcely any one even capable of it.“In proportion as the men whom I might have called to my aid were highly educated just so far they failed to understand me, and were incapable of confining themselves even in theory to the simple starting-points which I sought to come back to. All their views about the organisation and requirements of the enterprise differed entirely from mine. What they specially objected to was the notion that the enterprise might be carried out without the aid of any artificial means, and simply by the influence of nature in the environment of the children, and by the activity aroused in them by the needs of their daily life.“And yet it was precisely upon this idea that I based all my hope of success; it was, as it were, a basis for innumerable other points of view.“Experienced teachers, then, could not help me; still less boorish, ignorant men. I had nothing to put into the hands of assistants to guide them, nor any results or apparatus by which I could make my ideas clearer to them. Thus, whether I would or no, I had first to make my experiment alone, and collect facts to illustrate the essential features of my system before I could venture to look for outside help. Indeed, in my then position, nobody could help me. I knew that I must help myself and shaped my plans accordingly.“I wanted to prove by my experiment that if public education is to have any real value for humanity, it must imitate the means which make the merit of domestic education; for it is my opinion that if school teaching does not take into consideration the circumstances of family life, and everything else that bears on a man’s general education, it can only lead to an artificial and methodical dwarfing of humanity.“In any good education, the mother must be able to judge daily, nay hourly, from the child’s eyes, lips, and face, of the slightest change in his soul. The power of the educator, too, must be that of a father, quickened by the general circumstances of domestic life.“Such was the foundation upon which I built. I determined that there should not be a minute in the day when my children should not be aware from my face and my lips that my heart was theirs, that their happiness was my happiness, and their pleasures my pleasures.“Man readily accepts what is good, and the child readily listens to it; but it is not for you that he wants it, master and educator, but for himself. The good to which you would lead him must not depend on your capricious humour or passion; it must be a good which is good in itself and by the nature of things, and which the child can recognize as good. He must feel the necessity of your will in things which concern his comfort before he can be expected to obey it.“Whatever he does gladly, whatever gains him credit, whatever tends to accomplish his great hopes, whatever awakens his powers and enables him truly to sayI can, all this hewills.“But this will is not aroused by words; it is aroused only by a kind of complete culture which gives feelings and powers. Words do not give the thing itself, but only an expression, a clear picture, of the thing which we already have in our minds.“Before all things I was bound to gain the confidence and the love of the children. I was sure that if I succeeded in this all the restwould come of itself. Friend, only think how I was placed, and how great were the prejudices of the people and of the children themselves, and you will comprehend what difficulties I had to overcome.”
“My friend, once more I awake from a dream; once more I see my work destroyed, and my failing strength wasted.
“But, however weak and unfortunate my attempt, a friend of humanity will not grudge a few moments to consider the reasons which convince me that some day a more fortunate posterity will certainly take up the thread of my hopes at the place where it is now broken....
“I once more made known, as well as I could, my old wishes for the education of the people. In particular, I laid my whole scheme before Legrand (then one of the Directors), who not only took a warm interest in it, but agreed with me that the Republic stood in urgent need of a reform of public education. He also agreed with me that much might be done for the regeneration of the people by giving a certain number of the poorest children an education which should be complete, but which, far from lifting them out of their proper sphere, would but attach them the more strongly to it.
“I limited my desires to this one point, Legrand helping me in every possible way. He even thought my views so important that he once said to me: ‘I shall not willingly give up my present post till you have begun your work.’ ...
“It was my intention to try to find near Zurich or in Aargau a place where I should be able to join industry and agriculture to the other means of instruction, and so give my establishment all the development necessary to its complete success. But the Unterwalden disaster (September, 1798) left me no further choice in the matter. The Government felt the urgent need of sending help to this unfortunate district, and begged me for this once to make an attempt to put my plans into execution in a place where almost everything that could have made it a success was wanting.
“I went there gladly. I felt that the innocence of the people would make up for what was wanting, and that their distress would, at any rate, make them grateful.
“My eagerness to realise at last the great dream of my life would have led me to work on the very highest peaks of the Alps, and, so to speak, without fire or water.
“For a house, the Government made over to me the new part of the Ursuline convent at Stanz, but when I arrived it was still uncompleted, and not in any way fitted to receive a large number of children. Before anything else could be done, then, the house itself had to be got ready.The Government gave the necessary orders, and Rengger pushed on the work with much zeal and useful activity. I was never indeed allowed to want for money.
“In spite, however, of the admirable support I received, all this preparation took time, and time was precisely what we could least afford, since it was of the highest importance that a number of children, whom the war had left homeless and destitute, should be received at once.
“I was still without everything but money when the children crowded in; neither kitchen, rooms, nor beds were ready to receive them. At first this was a source of inconceivable confusion. For the first few weeks I was shut up in a very small room; the weather was bad, and the alterations, which made a great dust and filled the corridors with rubbish, rendered the air very unhealthy.
“The want of beds compelled me at first to send some of the poor children home at night; these children generally came back the next day covered with vermin. Most of them on their arrival were very degenerated specimens of humanity. Many of them had a sort of chronic skin-disease, which almost prevented their walking, or sores on their heads, or rags full of vermin; many were almost skeletons, with haggard, careworn faces, and shrinking looks; some brazen, accustomed to begging, hypocrisy, and all sorts of deceit; others broken by misfortune, patient, suspicious, timid, and entirely devoid of affection. There were also some spoilt children amongst them who had known the sweets of comfort, and were therefore full of pretensions. These kept to themselves, affected to despise the little beggars their comrades, and to suffer from this equality, and seemed to find it impossible to adapt themselves to the ways of the house, which differed too much from their old habits. But what was common to them all was a persistent idleness, resulting from their want of physical and mental activity. Out of every ten children there was hardly one who knew his A B C; as for any other knowledge, it was, of course, out of the question.
“The entire absence of school learning was what troubled me least, for I trusted in the natural powers that God bestows on even the poorest and most neglected children. I had observed for a long time that behind their coarseness, shyness, and apparent incapacity, are hidden the finest faculties, the most precious powers; and now, even amongstthese poor creatures by whom I was surrounded at Stanz, marked natural abilities soon began to show themselves. I knew how useful the common needs of life are in teaching men the relations of things, in bringing out their natural intelligence, in forming their judgment, and in arousing faculties which, buried, as it were, beneath the coarser elements of their nature, cannot become active and useful till they are set free. It was my object then to set free these faculties, and bring them to bear on the pure and simple circumstances of domestic life, for I was convinced this was all that was wanting, and these natural faculties would shew themselves capable of raising the hearts and minds of my pupils to all that I could desire.
“I saw then how my wishes might be carried out; and I was persuaded that my affection would change the state of my children just as quickly as the spring sun would awake to new life the earth that winter had benumbed. I was not deceiving myself: before the spring sun melted the snow of our mountains my children were hardly to be recognised.
“But I must not anticipate. Just as in the evening I often mark the quick growth of the gourd by the side of the house, so I want you to mark the growth of my plant; and, my friend, I will not hide from you the worm which sometimes fastens on the leaves, sometimes even on the heart.
“I opened the establishment with no other helper but a woman-servant. I had not only to teach the children, but to look after their physical needs. I preferred being alone, and, unfortunately, it was the only way to reach my end. No one in the world would have cared to enter into my views for the education of children, and at that time I knew scarcely any one even capable of it.
“In proportion as the men whom I might have called to my aid were highly educated just so far they failed to understand me, and were incapable of confining themselves even in theory to the simple starting-points which I sought to come back to. All their views about the organisation and requirements of the enterprise differed entirely from mine. What they specially objected to was the notion that the enterprise might be carried out without the aid of any artificial means, and simply by the influence of nature in the environment of the children, and by the activity aroused in them by the needs of their daily life.
“And yet it was precisely upon this idea that I based all my hope of success; it was, as it were, a basis for innumerable other points of view.
“Experienced teachers, then, could not help me; still less boorish, ignorant men. I had nothing to put into the hands of assistants to guide them, nor any results or apparatus by which I could make my ideas clearer to them. Thus, whether I would or no, I had first to make my experiment alone, and collect facts to illustrate the essential features of my system before I could venture to look for outside help. Indeed, in my then position, nobody could help me. I knew that I must help myself and shaped my plans accordingly.
“I wanted to prove by my experiment that if public education is to have any real value for humanity, it must imitate the means which make the merit of domestic education; for it is my opinion that if school teaching does not take into consideration the circumstances of family life, and everything else that bears on a man’s general education, it can only lead to an artificial and methodical dwarfing of humanity.
“In any good education, the mother must be able to judge daily, nay hourly, from the child’s eyes, lips, and face, of the slightest change in his soul. The power of the educator, too, must be that of a father, quickened by the general circumstances of domestic life.
“Such was the foundation upon which I built. I determined that there should not be a minute in the day when my children should not be aware from my face and my lips that my heart was theirs, that their happiness was my happiness, and their pleasures my pleasures.
“Man readily accepts what is good, and the child readily listens to it; but it is not for you that he wants it, master and educator, but for himself. The good to which you would lead him must not depend on your capricious humour or passion; it must be a good which is good in itself and by the nature of things, and which the child can recognize as good. He must feel the necessity of your will in things which concern his comfort before he can be expected to obey it.
“Whatever he does gladly, whatever gains him credit, whatever tends to accomplish his great hopes, whatever awakens his powers and enables him truly to sayI can, all this hewills.
“But this will is not aroused by words; it is aroused only by a kind of complete culture which gives feelings and powers. Words do not give the thing itself, but only an expression, a clear picture, of the thing which we already have in our minds.
“Before all things I was bound to gain the confidence and the love of the children. I was sure that if I succeeded in this all the restwould come of itself. Friend, only think how I was placed, and how great were the prejudices of the people and of the children themselves, and you will comprehend what difficulties I had to overcome.”
After narrating what we already know he goes on:
“Think, my friend, of this temper of the people, of my weakness, of my poor appearance, of the ill-will to which I was almost publicly exposed, and then judge how much I had to endure for the sake of carrying on my work.“And yet, however painful this want of help and support was to me, it was favourable to the success of my undertaking, for it compelled me to be always everything for my children. I was alone with them from morning till night. It was from me that they received all that could do them good, soul and body. All needful help, consolation, and instruction they received direct from me. Their hands were in mine, my eyes were fixed on theirs.“We wept and smiled together. They forgot the world and Stanz; they only knew that they were with me and I with them. We shared our food and drink. I had about me neither family, friends, nor servants; nothing but them. I was with them in sickness, and in health, and when they slept. I was the last to go to bed, and the first to get up. In the bedroom I prayed with them, and, at their own request, taught them till they fell asleep. Their clothes and bodies were intolerably filthy, but I looked after both myself, and was thus constantly exposed to the risk of contagion.“This is how it was that these children gradually became so attached to me, some indeed so deeply that they contradicted their parents and friends when they heard evil things said about me. They felt that I was being treated unfairly, and loved me, I think, the more for it. But of what avail is it for the young nestlings to love their mother when the bird of prey that is bent on destroying them is constantly hovering near?“However, the first results of these principles and of this line of action were not always satisfactory, nor, indeed, could they be so. The children did not always understand my love. Accustomed to idleness, unbounded liberty, and the fortuitous and lawless pleasures of an almost wild life, they had come to the convent in the expectation of being well fed, and of having nothing to do. Some of them soon discovered that they had been there long enough, and wanted to go away again; they talked of the school fever that attacks children whenthey are kept employed all day long. This dissatisfaction, which showed itself during the first months, resulted principally from the fact that many of them were ill, the consequence either of the sudden change of diet and habits, or of the severity of the weather and the dampness of the building in which we lived. We all coughed a great deal, and several children were seized with a peculiar sort of fever. This fever, which always began with sickness, was very general in the district. Cases of sickness, however, not followed by fever, were not at all rare, and were an almost natural consequence of the change of food. Many people attributed the fever to bad food, but the facts soon showed them to be wrong, for not a single child succumbed.“On the return of spring it was evident to everybody that the children were all doing well, growing rapidly, and gaining colour. Certain magistrates and ecclesiastics, who saw them some time afterwards, stated that they had improved almost beyond recognition....“Months passed before I had the satisfaction of having my hand grasped by a single grateful parent. But the children were won over much sooner. They even wept sometimes when their parents met me or left me without a word of salutation. Many of them were perfectly happy, and used to say to their mothers: ‘I am better here than at home.’ At home, indeed, as they readily told me when we talked alone, they had been ill-used and beaten, and had often had neither bread to eat nor bed to lie down upon. And yet these same children would sometimes go off with their mothers the very next morning.“A good many others, however, soon saw that by staying with me they might both learn something and become something, and these never failed in their zeal and attachment. Before very long their conduct was imitated by others who had not altogether the same feelings.“Those who ran away were the worst in character and the least capable. But they were not incited to go till they were free of their vermin and their rags. Several were sent to me with no other purpose than that of being taken away again as soon as they were clean and well clothed.“But after a time their better judgment overcame the defiant hostility with which they arrived. In 1799[156]I had nearly eighty children. Most of them were bright and intelligent, some even remarkably so.“For most of them study was something entirely new. As soon as they found that they could learn, their zeal was indefatigable, and in a few weeks children who had never before opened a book, and could hardly repeat aPater Nosteror anAve, would study the whole day long with the keenest interest. Even after supper, when I used to say to them, ‘Children, will you go to bed, or learn something?’ they would generally answer, especially in the first month or two, ‘Learn something.’ It is true that afterwards, when they had to get up very early, it was not quite the same.“But this first eagerness did much towards starting the establishment on the right lines, and making the studies the success they ultimately were, a success indeed, which far surpassed my expectations. And yet great beyond expression were my difficulties. I did not as yet find it possible to organise the studies properly.“Neither my trust nor my zeal had been able to overcome either the intractability of individuals or the want of coherence in the whole experiment. The general order of the establishment, I felt, must be based upon order of a higher character. As this higher order did not yet exist, I had to attempt to create it; for without this foundation I could not hope to organise properly either the teaching or the general management of the place, nor should I have wished to do so. I wanted everything to result not from a preconceived plan, but from my relations with the children. The high principles and educating forces I was seeking, I looked for from the harmonious common life of my children, from their common attention, activity, and needs. It was not, then, from any external organisation that I looked for the regeneration of which they stood so much in need. If I had employed constraint, regulations, and lectures, I should, instead of winning and ennobling my children’s hearts, have repelled them and made them bitter, and thus been farther than ever from my aim. First of all, I had to arouse in them pure, moral, and noble feelings, so that afterwards, in external things, I might be sure of their ready attention, activity, and obedience. I had, in short, to follow the high precept of Jesus Christ, ‘Cleanse first that which is within, that the outside may be clean also; and if ever the truth of this precept was made manifest, it was made manifest then.“My one aim was to make their new life in common, and their new powers, awaken a feeling of brotherhood amongst the children, and make them affectionate, just, and considerate.“I was successful in gaining my aims. Amongst these seventy wild beggar-children there soon existed such peace, friendship, and cordial relations as are rare even between actual brothers and sisters.“The principle to which I endeavoured to conform all my conduct was as follows: Endeavour, first, to broaden your children’s sympathies, and, by satisfying their daily needs, to bring love and kindness into such unceasing contact with their impressions and their activity, that these sentiments may be engrafted in their hearts; then try to give them such judgment and tact as will enable them to make a wise, sure, and abundant use of these virtues in the circle which surrounds them. In the last place, do not hesitate to touch on the difficult questions of good and evil, and the words connected with them. And you must do this especially in connection with the ordinary events of every day, upon which your whole teaching in these matters must be founded, so that the children may be reminded of their own feelings, and supplied, as it were, with solid facts upon which to base their conception of the beauty and justice of the moral life. Even though you should have to spend whole nights in trying to express in two words what others say in twenty, never regret the loss of sleep.“I gave my children very few explanations; I taught them neither morality nor religion. But sometimes, when they were perfectly quiet, I used to say to them, ‘Do you not think that you are better and more reasonable when you are like this than when you are making a noise?’ When they clung round my neck and called me their father, I used to say, ‘My children, would it be right to deceive your father? After kissing me like this, would you like to do anything behind my back to vex me?’ When our talk turned on the misery of the country, and they were feeling glad at the thought of their own happier lot, I would say, ‘How good God is to have given man a compassionate heart!’ ... They perfectly understood that all they did was but a preparation for their future activity, and they looked forward to happiness as the certain result of their perseverance. That is why steady application soon became easy to them, its object being in perfect accordance with their wishes and their hopes. Virtue, my friend, is developed by this agreement, just as the young plant thrives when the soil suits its nature, and supplies the needs of its tender shoots.“I witnessed the growth of an inward strength in my children, which, in its general development, far surpassed my expectations, andin its particular manifestations not only often surprised me, but touched me deeply.“When the neighbouring town of Altdorf was burnt down, I gathered the children round me, and said, ‘Altdorf has been burnt down; perhaps, at this very moment, there are a hundred children there without home, food, or clothes; will you not ask our good Government to let twenty of them come and live with us?’ I still seem to see the emotion with which they answered, ‘Oh, yes, yes!’ ‘But, my children,’ I said, ‘think well of what you are asking! Even now we have scarcely money enough, and it is not at all certain that if these poor children came to us, the Government would give us any more than they do at present, so that you might have to work harder, and share your clothes with these children, and sometimes perhaps go without food. Do not say, then, that you would like them to come unless you are quite prepared for all these consequences.’ After having spoken to them in this way as seriously as I could, I made them repeat all I had said, to be quite sure that they had thoroughly understood what the consequences of their request would be. But they were not in the least shaken in their decision, and all repeated, ‘Yes, yes, we are quite ready to work harder, eat less, and share our clothes, for we want them to come.’“Some refugees from the Grisons having given me a few crowns for my poor children, I at once called them and said, ‘These men are obliged to leave their country; they hardly know where they will find a home to-morrow, yet, in spite of their trouble, they have given me this for you. Come and thank them.’ And the emotion of the children brought tears to the eyes of the refugees.“It was in this way that I strove to awaken the feeling of each virtue before talking about it, for I thought it unwise to talk to children on subjects which would compel them to speak without thoroughly understanding what they were saying.“I followed up this awakening of the sentiments by exercises intended to teach the children self-control, so that all that was good in them might be applied to the practical questions of every-day life.“It will easily be understood that, in this respect, it was not possible to organise any system of discipline for the establishment; that could only come slowly, as the general work developed.“Silence, as an aid to application, is perhaps the great secret of suchan institution. I found it very useful to insist on silence when I was teaching, and also to pay particular attention to the attitude of my children. I succeeded so well that the moment I asked for silence, I could teach in quite a low voice. The children repeated my words all together; and as there was no other sound, I was able to detect the slightest mistakes of pronunciation. It is true that this was not always so. Sometimes, whilst they repeated sentences after me, I would ask them as if in fun to keep their eyes fixed on their middle fingers. It is hardly credible how useful simple things of this sort sometimes are as means to the very highest ends.“One young girl, for instance, who had been little better than a savage, by keeping her head and body upright, and not looking about, made more progress in her moral education than any one would have believed possible.“These experiences have shown me that the mere habit of carrying oneself well does much more for the education of the moral sentiments than any amount of teaching and lectures in which this simple fact is ignored.“Thanks to the application of these principles, my children soon became more open, more contented and more susceptible to every good and noble influence than any one could possibly have foreseen when they first came to me, so utterly devoid were they of ideas, good feelings, and moral principles. As a matter of fact, this lack of previous instruction was not a serious obstacle to me; indeed, it hardly troubled me at all. I am inclined even to say that, in the simple method I was following, it was often an advantage, for I had incomparably less trouble to develop those children whose minds were still blank, than those who had already acquired inaccurate ideas. The former, too, were much more open than the latter to the influence of all pure and simple sentiments.“But when the children were obdurate and churlish, then I was severe, and made use of corporal punishment.“My dear friend, the pedagogical principle which says that we must win the hearts and minds of our children by words alone without having recourse to corporal punishment, is certainly good, and applicable under favourable conditions and circumstances; but with children of such widely different ages as mine, children for the most part beggars, and all full of deeply-rooted faults, a certain amount of corporal punishmentwas inevitable, especially as I was anxious to arrive surely, speedily, and by the simplest means, at gaining an influence over them all, for the sake of putting them all in the right road. I was compelled to punish them, but it would be a mistake to suppose that I thereby, in any way, lost the confidence of my pupils.“It is not the rare and isolated actions that form the opinions and feelings of children, but the impressions of every day and every hour. From such impressions they judge whether we are kindly disposed towards them or not, and this settles their general attitude towards us. Their judgment of isolated actions depends upon this general attitude.“This is how it is that punishments inflicted by parents rarely make a bad impression. But it is quite different with schoolmasters and teachers who are not with their children night and day, and have none of those relations with them which result from life in common.“My punishments never produced obstinacy; the children I had beaten were quite satisfied if a moment afterwards I gave them my hand and kissed them, and I could read in their eyes that the final effect of my blows was really joy. The following is a striking instance of the effect this sort of punishment sometimes had. One day one of the children I liked best, taking advantage of my affection, unjustly threatened one of his companions. I was very indignant, and my hand did not spare him. He seemed at first almost broken-hearted, and cried bitterly for at least a quarter of an hour. When I had gone out, however, he got up, and going to the boy he had ill-treated, begged his pardon, and thanked him for having spoken about his bad conduct. My friend, this was no comedy; the child had never seen anything like it before.“It was impossible that this sort of treatment should produce a bad impression on my children, because all day long I was giving them proofs of my affection and devotion. They could not misread my heart, and so they did not misjudge my actions. It was not the same with the parents, friends, strangers, and teachers who visited us; but that was natural. But I cared nothing for the opinion of the whole world, provided my children understood me.“I always did my best, therefore, to make them clearly understand the motives of my actions in all matters likely to excite their attention and interest. This, my friend, brings me to the consideration of the moral means to be employed in a truly domestic education.“Elementary moral education, considered as a whole, includes three distinct parts: the children’s moral sense must first be aroused by their feelings being made active and pure; then they must be exercised in self-control, so that they may give themselves to that which is right and good; finally they must be brought to form for themselves, by reflection and comparison, a just notion of the moral rights and duties which are theirs by reason of their position and surroundings.“So far, I have pointed out some of the means I employed to reach the first two of these ends. They were just as simple for the third; for I still made use of the impressions and experiences of their daily life to give my children a true and exact idea of right and duty. When, for instance, they made a noise, I appealed to their own judgment, and asked them if it was possible to learn under such conditions. I shall never forget how strong and true I generally found their sense of justice and reason, and how this sense increased and, as it were, established their good will.“I appealed to them in all matters that concerned the establishment. It was generally in the quiet evening hours that I appealed to their free judgment. When, for instance, it was reported in the village that they had not enough to eat, I said to them, ‘Tell me, my children, if you are not better fed than you were at home? Think, and tell me yourselves, whether it would be well to keep you here in such a way as would make it impossible for you afterwards, in spite of all your application and hard work, to procure what you had become accustomed to. Do you lack anything that is really necessary? Do you think that I could reasonably and justly do more for you? Would you have me spend all the money that is entrusted to me on thirty or forty children instead of on eighty as at present? Would that be just?’“In the same way, when I heard that it was reported that I punished them too severely, I said to them: ‘You know how I love you, my children; but tell me would you like me to stop punishing you? Do you think that in any other way I can free you from your deeply-rooted bad habits, or make you always mind what I say?’ You were there, my friend, and saw with your own eyes the sincere emotion with which they answered, ‘We don’t complain about your hitting us. We wish we never deserved it. But we want to be punished when we do wrong.’“Many things that make no difference in a small household could not be tolerated where the numbers were so great. I tried to makemy children feel this, always leaving them to decide what could or could not be allowed. It is true that in my intercourse with them I never spoke of liberty or equality; but, at the same time, I encouraged them as far as possible to be free and unconstrained in my presence, with the result that every day I marked more and more that clear open look in their eyes which, in my experience, is the sign of a really liberal education. I could not bear the thought of betraying the trust in me which I saw shining in their eyes; I strove constantly to strengthen it and at the same time their free individuality, that nothing might happen to trouble those angel-eyes, the sight of which caused me the most intense delight. But I could not endure frowns and anxious looks; I myself smoothed away the frowns; then the children smiled, and even among themselves they took care not to shew frowning faces.“By reason of their great number, I had occasion nearly every day to point out the difference between good and evil, justice and injustice. Good and evil are equally contagious amongst so many children, so that, according as the good or bad sentiments spread, the establishment was likely to become either much better or much worse than if it had only contained a smaller number. About this, too, I talked to them frankly. I shall never forget the impression that my words produced when, in speaking of a certain disturbance that had taken place among them, I said, ‘My children, it is the same with us as with every other household; when the children are numerous, and each gives way to his bad habits, the disorder becomes such that the weakest mother is driven to take sensible measures in bringing up her children, and make them submit to what is just and right. And that is what I must do now. If you do not willingly assist in the maintenance of order, our establishment cannot go on, you will fall back into your former condition, and your misery—now that you have been accustomed to a good home, clean clothes, and regular food—will be greater than ever. In this world, my children, necessity and conviction alone can teach a man to behave; when both fail him, he is hateful. Think for a moment what you would become if you were safe from want and cared nothing for right, justice, or goodness. At home there was always some one who looked after you, and poverty itself forced you to many a right action; but with convictions and reason to guide you, you will rise far higher than by following necessity alone.’“I often spoke to them in this way without troubling in the leastwhether they each understood every word, feeling quite sure that they all caught the general sense of what I said....“Here are a few more thoughts which produced a great impression on my children: ‘Do you know anything greater or nobler than to give counsel to the poor, and comfort to the unfortunate? But if you remain ignorant and incapable, you will be obliged, in spite of your good heart, to let things take their course; whereas, if you acquire knowledge and power, you will be able to give good advice, and save many a man from misery.’“I have generally found that great, noble, and high thoughts are indispensable for developing wisdom and firmness of character.“Such an instruction must be complete in the sense that it must take account of all our aptitudes and all our circumstances; it must be conducted, too, in a truly psychological spirit, that is to say, simply, lovingly, energetically, and calmly. Then, by its very nature, it produces an enlightened and delicate feeling for everything true and good, and brings to light a number of accessory and dependent truths, which are forthwith accepted and assimilated by the human soul, even in the case of those who could not express these truths in words.“I believe that the first development of thought in the child is very much disturbed by a wordy system of teaching, which is not adapted either to his faculties or the circumstances of his life. According to my experience, success depends upon whether what is taught to children commends itself to them as true through being closely connected with their own personal observation and experience....“I knew no other order, method, or art, but that which resulted naturally from my children’s conviction of my love for them, nor did I care to know any other.“Thus I subordinated the instruction of my children to a higher aim, which was to arouse and strengthen their best sentiments by the relations of every-day life as they existed between themselves and me....“As a general rule I attached little importance to the study of words, even when explanations of the ideas they represented were given.“I tried to connect study with manual labour, the school with the workshop, and make one thing of them. But I was the less able to do this as staff, material, and tools were all wanting. A short time only before the close of the establishment, a few children had begun to spin;and I saw clearly that, before any fusion could be effected, the two parts must be firmly established separately—study, that is, on the one hand, and labour on the other.“But in the work of the children I was already inclined to care less for the immediate gain than for the physical training which, by developing their strength and skill, was bound to supply them later with a means of livelihood. In the same way I considered that what is generally called the instruction of children should be merely an exercise of the faculties, and I felt it important to exercise the attention, observation, and memory first, so as to strengthen these faculties before calling into play the art of judging and reasoning; this, in my opinion, was the best way to avoid turning out that sort of superficial and presumptuous talker, whose false judgments are often more fatal to the happiness and progress of humanity than the ignorance of simple people of good sense.“Guided by these principles, I sought less at first to teach my children to spell, read, and write than to make use of these exercises for the purpose of giving their minds as full and as varied a development as possible....“In natural history they were very quick in corroborating what I taught them by their own personal observations on plants and animals. I am quite sure that, by continuing in this way, I should soon have been able not only to give them such a general acquaintance with the subject as would have been useful in any vocation, but also to put them in a position to carry on their education themselves by means of their daily observations and experiences; and I should have been able to do all this without going outside the very restricted sphere to which they were confined by the actual circumstances of their lives. I hold it to be extremely important that men should be encouraged to learn by themselves and allowed to develop freely. It is in this way alone that the diversity of individual talent is produced and made evident.“I always made the children learn perfectly even the least important things, and I never allowed them to lose ground; a word once learnt, for instance, was never to be forgotten, and a letter once well written never to be written badly again. I was very patient with all who were weak or slow, but very severe with those who did anything less well than they had done it before.“The number and inequality of my children rendered my task easier.Just as in a family the eldest and cleverest child readily shows what he knows to his younger brothers and sisters, and feels proud and happy to be able to take his mother’s place for a moment, so my children were delighted when they knew something that they could teach others. A sentiment of honour awoke in them, and they learned twice as well by making the younger ones repeat their words. In this way I soon had helpers and collaborators amongst the children themselves. When I was teaching them to spell difficult words by heart, I used to allow any child who succeeded in saying one properly to teach it to the others. These child-helpers, whom I had formed from the very outset, and who had followed my method step by step, were certainly much more useful to me than any regular schoolmasters could have been.“I myself learned with the children. Our whole system was so simple and so natural that I should have had difficulty in finding a master who would not have thought it undignified to learn and teach as I was doing....“You will hardly believe that it was the Capuchin friars and the nuns of the convent that showed the greatest sympathy with my work. Few people, except Truttman, took any active interest in it. Those from whom I had hoped most were too deeply engrossed with their high political affairs to think of our little institution as having the least degree of importance.“Such were my dreams; but at the very moment that I seemed to be on the point of realizing them, I had to leave Stanz.”
“Think, my friend, of this temper of the people, of my weakness, of my poor appearance, of the ill-will to which I was almost publicly exposed, and then judge how much I had to endure for the sake of carrying on my work.
“And yet, however painful this want of help and support was to me, it was favourable to the success of my undertaking, for it compelled me to be always everything for my children. I was alone with them from morning till night. It was from me that they received all that could do them good, soul and body. All needful help, consolation, and instruction they received direct from me. Their hands were in mine, my eyes were fixed on theirs.
“We wept and smiled together. They forgot the world and Stanz; they only knew that they were with me and I with them. We shared our food and drink. I had about me neither family, friends, nor servants; nothing but them. I was with them in sickness, and in health, and when they slept. I was the last to go to bed, and the first to get up. In the bedroom I prayed with them, and, at their own request, taught them till they fell asleep. Their clothes and bodies were intolerably filthy, but I looked after both myself, and was thus constantly exposed to the risk of contagion.
“This is how it was that these children gradually became so attached to me, some indeed so deeply that they contradicted their parents and friends when they heard evil things said about me. They felt that I was being treated unfairly, and loved me, I think, the more for it. But of what avail is it for the young nestlings to love their mother when the bird of prey that is bent on destroying them is constantly hovering near?
“However, the first results of these principles and of this line of action were not always satisfactory, nor, indeed, could they be so. The children did not always understand my love. Accustomed to idleness, unbounded liberty, and the fortuitous and lawless pleasures of an almost wild life, they had come to the convent in the expectation of being well fed, and of having nothing to do. Some of them soon discovered that they had been there long enough, and wanted to go away again; they talked of the school fever that attacks children whenthey are kept employed all day long. This dissatisfaction, which showed itself during the first months, resulted principally from the fact that many of them were ill, the consequence either of the sudden change of diet and habits, or of the severity of the weather and the dampness of the building in which we lived. We all coughed a great deal, and several children were seized with a peculiar sort of fever. This fever, which always began with sickness, was very general in the district. Cases of sickness, however, not followed by fever, were not at all rare, and were an almost natural consequence of the change of food. Many people attributed the fever to bad food, but the facts soon showed them to be wrong, for not a single child succumbed.
“On the return of spring it was evident to everybody that the children were all doing well, growing rapidly, and gaining colour. Certain magistrates and ecclesiastics, who saw them some time afterwards, stated that they had improved almost beyond recognition....
“Months passed before I had the satisfaction of having my hand grasped by a single grateful parent. But the children were won over much sooner. They even wept sometimes when their parents met me or left me without a word of salutation. Many of them were perfectly happy, and used to say to their mothers: ‘I am better here than at home.’ At home, indeed, as they readily told me when we talked alone, they had been ill-used and beaten, and had often had neither bread to eat nor bed to lie down upon. And yet these same children would sometimes go off with their mothers the very next morning.
“A good many others, however, soon saw that by staying with me they might both learn something and become something, and these never failed in their zeal and attachment. Before very long their conduct was imitated by others who had not altogether the same feelings.
“Those who ran away were the worst in character and the least capable. But they were not incited to go till they were free of their vermin and their rags. Several were sent to me with no other purpose than that of being taken away again as soon as they were clean and well clothed.
“But after a time their better judgment overcame the defiant hostility with which they arrived. In 1799[156]I had nearly eighty children. Most of them were bright and intelligent, some even remarkably so.
“For most of them study was something entirely new. As soon as they found that they could learn, their zeal was indefatigable, and in a few weeks children who had never before opened a book, and could hardly repeat aPater Nosteror anAve, would study the whole day long with the keenest interest. Even after supper, when I used to say to them, ‘Children, will you go to bed, or learn something?’ they would generally answer, especially in the first month or two, ‘Learn something.’ It is true that afterwards, when they had to get up very early, it was not quite the same.
“But this first eagerness did much towards starting the establishment on the right lines, and making the studies the success they ultimately were, a success indeed, which far surpassed my expectations. And yet great beyond expression were my difficulties. I did not as yet find it possible to organise the studies properly.
“Neither my trust nor my zeal had been able to overcome either the intractability of individuals or the want of coherence in the whole experiment. The general order of the establishment, I felt, must be based upon order of a higher character. As this higher order did not yet exist, I had to attempt to create it; for without this foundation I could not hope to organise properly either the teaching or the general management of the place, nor should I have wished to do so. I wanted everything to result not from a preconceived plan, but from my relations with the children. The high principles and educating forces I was seeking, I looked for from the harmonious common life of my children, from their common attention, activity, and needs. It was not, then, from any external organisation that I looked for the regeneration of which they stood so much in need. If I had employed constraint, regulations, and lectures, I should, instead of winning and ennobling my children’s hearts, have repelled them and made them bitter, and thus been farther than ever from my aim. First of all, I had to arouse in them pure, moral, and noble feelings, so that afterwards, in external things, I might be sure of their ready attention, activity, and obedience. I had, in short, to follow the high precept of Jesus Christ, ‘Cleanse first that which is within, that the outside may be clean also; and if ever the truth of this precept was made manifest, it was made manifest then.
“My one aim was to make their new life in common, and their new powers, awaken a feeling of brotherhood amongst the children, and make them affectionate, just, and considerate.
“I was successful in gaining my aims. Amongst these seventy wild beggar-children there soon existed such peace, friendship, and cordial relations as are rare even between actual brothers and sisters.
“The principle to which I endeavoured to conform all my conduct was as follows: Endeavour, first, to broaden your children’s sympathies, and, by satisfying their daily needs, to bring love and kindness into such unceasing contact with their impressions and their activity, that these sentiments may be engrafted in their hearts; then try to give them such judgment and tact as will enable them to make a wise, sure, and abundant use of these virtues in the circle which surrounds them. In the last place, do not hesitate to touch on the difficult questions of good and evil, and the words connected with them. And you must do this especially in connection with the ordinary events of every day, upon which your whole teaching in these matters must be founded, so that the children may be reminded of their own feelings, and supplied, as it were, with solid facts upon which to base their conception of the beauty and justice of the moral life. Even though you should have to spend whole nights in trying to express in two words what others say in twenty, never regret the loss of sleep.
“I gave my children very few explanations; I taught them neither morality nor religion. But sometimes, when they were perfectly quiet, I used to say to them, ‘Do you not think that you are better and more reasonable when you are like this than when you are making a noise?’ When they clung round my neck and called me their father, I used to say, ‘My children, would it be right to deceive your father? After kissing me like this, would you like to do anything behind my back to vex me?’ When our talk turned on the misery of the country, and they were feeling glad at the thought of their own happier lot, I would say, ‘How good God is to have given man a compassionate heart!’ ... They perfectly understood that all they did was but a preparation for their future activity, and they looked forward to happiness as the certain result of their perseverance. That is why steady application soon became easy to them, its object being in perfect accordance with their wishes and their hopes. Virtue, my friend, is developed by this agreement, just as the young plant thrives when the soil suits its nature, and supplies the needs of its tender shoots.
“I witnessed the growth of an inward strength in my children, which, in its general development, far surpassed my expectations, andin its particular manifestations not only often surprised me, but touched me deeply.
“When the neighbouring town of Altdorf was burnt down, I gathered the children round me, and said, ‘Altdorf has been burnt down; perhaps, at this very moment, there are a hundred children there without home, food, or clothes; will you not ask our good Government to let twenty of them come and live with us?’ I still seem to see the emotion with which they answered, ‘Oh, yes, yes!’ ‘But, my children,’ I said, ‘think well of what you are asking! Even now we have scarcely money enough, and it is not at all certain that if these poor children came to us, the Government would give us any more than they do at present, so that you might have to work harder, and share your clothes with these children, and sometimes perhaps go without food. Do not say, then, that you would like them to come unless you are quite prepared for all these consequences.’ After having spoken to them in this way as seriously as I could, I made them repeat all I had said, to be quite sure that they had thoroughly understood what the consequences of their request would be. But they were not in the least shaken in their decision, and all repeated, ‘Yes, yes, we are quite ready to work harder, eat less, and share our clothes, for we want them to come.’
“Some refugees from the Grisons having given me a few crowns for my poor children, I at once called them and said, ‘These men are obliged to leave their country; they hardly know where they will find a home to-morrow, yet, in spite of their trouble, they have given me this for you. Come and thank them.’ And the emotion of the children brought tears to the eyes of the refugees.
“It was in this way that I strove to awaken the feeling of each virtue before talking about it, for I thought it unwise to talk to children on subjects which would compel them to speak without thoroughly understanding what they were saying.
“I followed up this awakening of the sentiments by exercises intended to teach the children self-control, so that all that was good in them might be applied to the practical questions of every-day life.
“It will easily be understood that, in this respect, it was not possible to organise any system of discipline for the establishment; that could only come slowly, as the general work developed.
“Silence, as an aid to application, is perhaps the great secret of suchan institution. I found it very useful to insist on silence when I was teaching, and also to pay particular attention to the attitude of my children. I succeeded so well that the moment I asked for silence, I could teach in quite a low voice. The children repeated my words all together; and as there was no other sound, I was able to detect the slightest mistakes of pronunciation. It is true that this was not always so. Sometimes, whilst they repeated sentences after me, I would ask them as if in fun to keep their eyes fixed on their middle fingers. It is hardly credible how useful simple things of this sort sometimes are as means to the very highest ends.
“One young girl, for instance, who had been little better than a savage, by keeping her head and body upright, and not looking about, made more progress in her moral education than any one would have believed possible.
“These experiences have shown me that the mere habit of carrying oneself well does much more for the education of the moral sentiments than any amount of teaching and lectures in which this simple fact is ignored.
“Thanks to the application of these principles, my children soon became more open, more contented and more susceptible to every good and noble influence than any one could possibly have foreseen when they first came to me, so utterly devoid were they of ideas, good feelings, and moral principles. As a matter of fact, this lack of previous instruction was not a serious obstacle to me; indeed, it hardly troubled me at all. I am inclined even to say that, in the simple method I was following, it was often an advantage, for I had incomparably less trouble to develop those children whose minds were still blank, than those who had already acquired inaccurate ideas. The former, too, were much more open than the latter to the influence of all pure and simple sentiments.
“But when the children were obdurate and churlish, then I was severe, and made use of corporal punishment.
“My dear friend, the pedagogical principle which says that we must win the hearts and minds of our children by words alone without having recourse to corporal punishment, is certainly good, and applicable under favourable conditions and circumstances; but with children of such widely different ages as mine, children for the most part beggars, and all full of deeply-rooted faults, a certain amount of corporal punishmentwas inevitable, especially as I was anxious to arrive surely, speedily, and by the simplest means, at gaining an influence over them all, for the sake of putting them all in the right road. I was compelled to punish them, but it would be a mistake to suppose that I thereby, in any way, lost the confidence of my pupils.
“It is not the rare and isolated actions that form the opinions and feelings of children, but the impressions of every day and every hour. From such impressions they judge whether we are kindly disposed towards them or not, and this settles their general attitude towards us. Their judgment of isolated actions depends upon this general attitude.
“This is how it is that punishments inflicted by parents rarely make a bad impression. But it is quite different with schoolmasters and teachers who are not with their children night and day, and have none of those relations with them which result from life in common.
“My punishments never produced obstinacy; the children I had beaten were quite satisfied if a moment afterwards I gave them my hand and kissed them, and I could read in their eyes that the final effect of my blows was really joy. The following is a striking instance of the effect this sort of punishment sometimes had. One day one of the children I liked best, taking advantage of my affection, unjustly threatened one of his companions. I was very indignant, and my hand did not spare him. He seemed at first almost broken-hearted, and cried bitterly for at least a quarter of an hour. When I had gone out, however, he got up, and going to the boy he had ill-treated, begged his pardon, and thanked him for having spoken about his bad conduct. My friend, this was no comedy; the child had never seen anything like it before.
“It was impossible that this sort of treatment should produce a bad impression on my children, because all day long I was giving them proofs of my affection and devotion. They could not misread my heart, and so they did not misjudge my actions. It was not the same with the parents, friends, strangers, and teachers who visited us; but that was natural. But I cared nothing for the opinion of the whole world, provided my children understood me.
“I always did my best, therefore, to make them clearly understand the motives of my actions in all matters likely to excite their attention and interest. This, my friend, brings me to the consideration of the moral means to be employed in a truly domestic education.
“Elementary moral education, considered as a whole, includes three distinct parts: the children’s moral sense must first be aroused by their feelings being made active and pure; then they must be exercised in self-control, so that they may give themselves to that which is right and good; finally they must be brought to form for themselves, by reflection and comparison, a just notion of the moral rights and duties which are theirs by reason of their position and surroundings.
“So far, I have pointed out some of the means I employed to reach the first two of these ends. They were just as simple for the third; for I still made use of the impressions and experiences of their daily life to give my children a true and exact idea of right and duty. When, for instance, they made a noise, I appealed to their own judgment, and asked them if it was possible to learn under such conditions. I shall never forget how strong and true I generally found their sense of justice and reason, and how this sense increased and, as it were, established their good will.
“I appealed to them in all matters that concerned the establishment. It was generally in the quiet evening hours that I appealed to their free judgment. When, for instance, it was reported in the village that they had not enough to eat, I said to them, ‘Tell me, my children, if you are not better fed than you were at home? Think, and tell me yourselves, whether it would be well to keep you here in such a way as would make it impossible for you afterwards, in spite of all your application and hard work, to procure what you had become accustomed to. Do you lack anything that is really necessary? Do you think that I could reasonably and justly do more for you? Would you have me spend all the money that is entrusted to me on thirty or forty children instead of on eighty as at present? Would that be just?’
“In the same way, when I heard that it was reported that I punished them too severely, I said to them: ‘You know how I love you, my children; but tell me would you like me to stop punishing you? Do you think that in any other way I can free you from your deeply-rooted bad habits, or make you always mind what I say?’ You were there, my friend, and saw with your own eyes the sincere emotion with which they answered, ‘We don’t complain about your hitting us. We wish we never deserved it. But we want to be punished when we do wrong.’
“Many things that make no difference in a small household could not be tolerated where the numbers were so great. I tried to makemy children feel this, always leaving them to decide what could or could not be allowed. It is true that in my intercourse with them I never spoke of liberty or equality; but, at the same time, I encouraged them as far as possible to be free and unconstrained in my presence, with the result that every day I marked more and more that clear open look in their eyes which, in my experience, is the sign of a really liberal education. I could not bear the thought of betraying the trust in me which I saw shining in their eyes; I strove constantly to strengthen it and at the same time their free individuality, that nothing might happen to trouble those angel-eyes, the sight of which caused me the most intense delight. But I could not endure frowns and anxious looks; I myself smoothed away the frowns; then the children smiled, and even among themselves they took care not to shew frowning faces.
“By reason of their great number, I had occasion nearly every day to point out the difference between good and evil, justice and injustice. Good and evil are equally contagious amongst so many children, so that, according as the good or bad sentiments spread, the establishment was likely to become either much better or much worse than if it had only contained a smaller number. About this, too, I talked to them frankly. I shall never forget the impression that my words produced when, in speaking of a certain disturbance that had taken place among them, I said, ‘My children, it is the same with us as with every other household; when the children are numerous, and each gives way to his bad habits, the disorder becomes such that the weakest mother is driven to take sensible measures in bringing up her children, and make them submit to what is just and right. And that is what I must do now. If you do not willingly assist in the maintenance of order, our establishment cannot go on, you will fall back into your former condition, and your misery—now that you have been accustomed to a good home, clean clothes, and regular food—will be greater than ever. In this world, my children, necessity and conviction alone can teach a man to behave; when both fail him, he is hateful. Think for a moment what you would become if you were safe from want and cared nothing for right, justice, or goodness. At home there was always some one who looked after you, and poverty itself forced you to many a right action; but with convictions and reason to guide you, you will rise far higher than by following necessity alone.’
“I often spoke to them in this way without troubling in the leastwhether they each understood every word, feeling quite sure that they all caught the general sense of what I said....
“Here are a few more thoughts which produced a great impression on my children: ‘Do you know anything greater or nobler than to give counsel to the poor, and comfort to the unfortunate? But if you remain ignorant and incapable, you will be obliged, in spite of your good heart, to let things take their course; whereas, if you acquire knowledge and power, you will be able to give good advice, and save many a man from misery.’
“I have generally found that great, noble, and high thoughts are indispensable for developing wisdom and firmness of character.
“Such an instruction must be complete in the sense that it must take account of all our aptitudes and all our circumstances; it must be conducted, too, in a truly psychological spirit, that is to say, simply, lovingly, energetically, and calmly. Then, by its very nature, it produces an enlightened and delicate feeling for everything true and good, and brings to light a number of accessory and dependent truths, which are forthwith accepted and assimilated by the human soul, even in the case of those who could not express these truths in words.
“I believe that the first development of thought in the child is very much disturbed by a wordy system of teaching, which is not adapted either to his faculties or the circumstances of his life. According to my experience, success depends upon whether what is taught to children commends itself to them as true through being closely connected with their own personal observation and experience....
“I knew no other order, method, or art, but that which resulted naturally from my children’s conviction of my love for them, nor did I care to know any other.
“Thus I subordinated the instruction of my children to a higher aim, which was to arouse and strengthen their best sentiments by the relations of every-day life as they existed between themselves and me....
“As a general rule I attached little importance to the study of words, even when explanations of the ideas they represented were given.
“I tried to connect study with manual labour, the school with the workshop, and make one thing of them. But I was the less able to do this as staff, material, and tools were all wanting. A short time only before the close of the establishment, a few children had begun to spin;and I saw clearly that, before any fusion could be effected, the two parts must be firmly established separately—study, that is, on the one hand, and labour on the other.
“But in the work of the children I was already inclined to care less for the immediate gain than for the physical training which, by developing their strength and skill, was bound to supply them later with a means of livelihood. In the same way I considered that what is generally called the instruction of children should be merely an exercise of the faculties, and I felt it important to exercise the attention, observation, and memory first, so as to strengthen these faculties before calling into play the art of judging and reasoning; this, in my opinion, was the best way to avoid turning out that sort of superficial and presumptuous talker, whose false judgments are often more fatal to the happiness and progress of humanity than the ignorance of simple people of good sense.
“Guided by these principles, I sought less at first to teach my children to spell, read, and write than to make use of these exercises for the purpose of giving their minds as full and as varied a development as possible....
“In natural history they were very quick in corroborating what I taught them by their own personal observations on plants and animals. I am quite sure that, by continuing in this way, I should soon have been able not only to give them such a general acquaintance with the subject as would have been useful in any vocation, but also to put them in a position to carry on their education themselves by means of their daily observations and experiences; and I should have been able to do all this without going outside the very restricted sphere to which they were confined by the actual circumstances of their lives. I hold it to be extremely important that men should be encouraged to learn by themselves and allowed to develop freely. It is in this way alone that the diversity of individual talent is produced and made evident.
“I always made the children learn perfectly even the least important things, and I never allowed them to lose ground; a word once learnt, for instance, was never to be forgotten, and a letter once well written never to be written badly again. I was very patient with all who were weak or slow, but very severe with those who did anything less well than they had done it before.
“The number and inequality of my children rendered my task easier.Just as in a family the eldest and cleverest child readily shows what he knows to his younger brothers and sisters, and feels proud and happy to be able to take his mother’s place for a moment, so my children were delighted when they knew something that they could teach others. A sentiment of honour awoke in them, and they learned twice as well by making the younger ones repeat their words. In this way I soon had helpers and collaborators amongst the children themselves. When I was teaching them to spell difficult words by heart, I used to allow any child who succeeded in saying one properly to teach it to the others. These child-helpers, whom I had formed from the very outset, and who had followed my method step by step, were certainly much more useful to me than any regular schoolmasters could have been.
“I myself learned with the children. Our whole system was so simple and so natural that I should have had difficulty in finding a master who would not have thought it undignified to learn and teach as I was doing....
“You will hardly believe that it was the Capuchin friars and the nuns of the convent that showed the greatest sympathy with my work. Few people, except Truttman, took any active interest in it. Those from whom I had hoped most were too deeply engrossed with their high political affairs to think of our little institution as having the least degree of importance.
“Such were my dreams; but at the very moment that I seemed to be on the point of realizing them, I had to leave Stanz.”
§ 50. Heroic efforts rise above the measurement of time. As Byron has said, “A thought is capable of years,” and it seldom happens that the nobleness of any human action depends on the time it lasts. Pestalozzi’s five months’ experiment at Stanz proved one of the most memorable events in the history of education. He was now completely satisfied that he saw his way to giving children a right education and “thus raising the beggar out of the dung-hill”; and seeing the right course he was urged by his love of the people into taking it. But how was he to set to work? His notions of school instruction differed entirely fromthose of the teaching profession; and even in the revolutionary age they had some reason for looking askance at this revolutionist. “He had everything against him,” we read, “thick, indistinct speech, bad writing, ignorance of drawing, scorn of grammatical learning. He had studied various branches of natural history, but without any particular attention either to classification or terminology. He was conversant with the ordinary operations in arithmetic, but he would have had difficulty in getting through a really long sum in multiplication or division; and he probably had never tried to work out a problem in geometry. For years this dreamer had read no books. But instead of the usual knowledge that any young man of ordinary talent can acquire in a year or two, he understood thoroughly what most masters were entirely ignorant of—the mind of man and the laws of its development, human affections and the art of arousing and ennobling them. He seemed to have almost an intuitive insight into the development of human nature, and was never tired of contemplating it.” (C. Monnard in R.’s Guimps, p. 174.)[157]
§ 51. This man wished to be a schoolmaster, but who would venture to entrust him with a school? No one seemed willing to do this; and he would have been at a loss where to turn had he not had influential friends at Burgdorf, a town not far from Bern. These got for him permission to teach, not indeed the children of burgesses butthe children of non-burgesses, seventy-three of whom used to assemble under a shoemaker in his house in the suburbs. With this arrangement, however, the shoemaker and the parents of the children were by no means satisfied. “If the burgesses like the new method,” they said very reasonably, “let them try it on their own children.” Their grumbling was heard, and permission to teach was withdrawn from Pestalozzi.
§ 52. The check, however, was only temporary. His friends were wiser than the shoemaker, and they procured for him admission into the lowest class of the school for burghers’ children. In this class there were about 25 children, boys and girls between the ages of 5 and 8. Here he proved that he was vastly different from a mere dreamer. After teaching these children in his own way for eight months he received the first official recognition of the merits of his system. The Burgdorf School Commission after the usual examination, wrote a public letter to Pestalozzi, in which they said: “The surprising progress of your little scholars of various capacities shews plainly that every one is good for something, if the teacher knows how to get at his abilities and develop them according to the laws of psychology. By your method of teaching you have proved how to lay the groundwork of instruction in such a way that it may afterwards support what is built on it.... Between the ages of 5 and 8, a period in which according to the system of torture enforced hitherto, children have learnt to know their letters, to spell and read, your scholars have not only accomplished all this with a success as yet unknown, but the best of them have already distinguished themselves by their good writing, drawing, and calculating. In them all you have been able so to arouse and excite a liking for history, natural history,mensuration, geography, &c., that thus future teachers must find their task a far easier one if they only know how to make good use of the preparatory stage the children have gone through with you” (Morf, Pt. I, p. 223).
§ 53. In consequence of this report, Pestalozzi in June 1800 was made master of the second school of Burgdorf, a school numbering about 70 boys and girls from 10 to 16 years old. With them Pestalozzi did not get on so well. Ramsauer, a poor boy of 10 who afterwards helped Pestalozzi at Yverdun and became one of his best teachers, has left us his remembrances. Two things seemed clear to the child’s mind: 1st, that their teacher was very kind but very unhappy; 2nd, that the pupils did not learn anything and behaved very badly. Many schoolmasters have smiled in derision at this account of Pestalozzi’s actual teaching; but in reading it several things should be borne in mind. First Ramsauer as a child would have a keen eye and good memory for the master’s eccentricities; but how far the teaching succeeded he could not judge, for he did not know what it aimed at. Then again he saw that Pestalozzi’s zeal was for the whole school, not for individual scholars. But the child who knew of nothing beyond Burgdorf could not tell that Pestalozzi was thinking not so much of the children of Burgdorf as of the children of Europe. For Burgdorf—whether it was pleased to honour or to dismiss Pestalozzi—could not contain him. His aims extended beyond the town, beyond canton Bern, beyond Switzerland even; and he was consumed with zeal to bring about a radical change in elementary education throughout Europe. The truth which was burning within him he has himself expressed as follows:
“If we desire to aid the poor man, the very lowest among the people, this can be done in one way only, that is,bychanging his schools into true places of education, in which the moral, intellectual, and physical powers which God has put into our nature may be drawn out, so that the man may be enabled to live a life such as a man should live, contented in himself and satisfying other people. Thus and only thus does the man, whom in God’s wide world nobody helps and nobody can help, learn to help himself.” “The public common school-coach throughout Europe must not simply be better horsed, but still more it must beturned round and be brought on to an entirely new road.” (Quoted by Morf, P. I, p. 211.)
§ 54. Pestalozzi was now working heart and soul at the engineering of this “new road.” His grand successes hitherto had been gained more by the heart than by the head; but the school course must draw out the faculties of the head as well as of the heart. Pestalozzi made all instruction start from what children observed for themselves. “I laid special stress,” he says, “on just what usually affected their senses. And as I dwelt much on elementary knowledge, I wanted to know when the child receives its first lesson, and I soon came to the conviction that the first hour of learning dates from birth. From the very moment that the child’s senses open to the impressions of nature, nature teaches it. Its new life is but the faculty, now come to maturity, of receiving impressions; it is the awakening of the germs now perfect which will go on using all their forces and energies to secure the development of their proper organisation; it is the awakening of the animal now complete which will and shall become a man. So the sole instruction given to the human being consists merely in the art of giving a helping hand to this natural tendency towards its proper development; and this art consists essentially in the meansof putting the child’s impressions in connexion and harmony with the precise degree of development the child has reached. There must be then in the impressions to be given him by instruction, a regular gradation; and the beginning and the progress of his various knowledges must exactly correspond with the beginning and increase in his powers as they are developed. From this I soon saw that this gradation must be ascertained for all the branches of human knowledge, especially for those fundamental notions from which our thinking power takes its rise. On such principles and no others is it possible to construct real school books and books about teaching” (Wie Gertrud, &c., Letter I.).
§ 55. In endeavouring to put teaching, as he said, “on a psychological basis,” Pestalozzi compared it to a mechanism. On one occasion when expounding his views, he was interrupted by the exclamation, “Vous voulez mécaniser l’éducation!” Pestalozzi was weak in French, and he took these words to mean, “You wish to get at the mechanism of education.” He accordingly assented, and was in his turn misunderstood. Soon afterwards he endeavoured to express the new thing by a new word and said, “Ich will den menschlichen Unterricht psychologisieren; I wish to psychologise instruction,” and this he explains to mean that he sought to make instruction fall in with the eternal laws which govern the development of the human intellect (Morf, I, p. 227). But this was a task which no one man could accomplish, not even Pestalozzi. The eternal laws which govern the development of mind have not been completely ascertained even after investigations carried on during thousands of years; and Pestalozzi did not know what had been established by previous thinkers. He made a gigantic effort to find both the laws and their application,but if he had continued to stand alone he could have done but little. Happily he attracted to him some young and vigorous assistants, who caught his enthusiasm and worked in his spirit. They did much, but there was one thing the Master could not communicate—his genius.
§ 56. Just at this time, before Pestalozzi found associates in his work, he drew up for a “Society of Friends of Education” an account of his method; and this begins with the words I have already quoted, “I want to psychologise education.” Basing all instruction onAnschauung(which is nearly equivalent to the child’s own observation), he explains how this may be used for a series of exercises, and he takes as the general elements of culture the following: language, drawing, writing, arithmetic, and the art of measuring. In the education of the poor he would lay special stress on the importance of two things, then and since much neglected, viz., singing and the sense of the beautiful. The mother’s cradle song should begin a series leading up to hymns of praise to God. Education should develop in all a sense of the beauties of Nature. “Nature is full of lovely sights, yet Europe has done nothing either to awaken in the poor a sense for these beauties, or to arrange them in such a way as to produce a series of impressions capable of developing this sense.... If ever popular education should cease to be the barbarous absurdity it now is, and put itself into harmony with the real needs of our nature, this want will be supplied.” (R.’s Guimps, 186.)
§ 57. In the last year of the eighteenth century (1800) Pestalozzi was toiling away, constant to his purpose but not clearly seeing the road before him. In March, 1800, he wrote to Zschokke: “For thirty years my life has been a well-nighhopeless struggle against the most frightful poverty.... For thirty years I have had to forego many of the barest necessaries of life, and have had to shun the society of my fellow-men from sheer lack of decent clothes. Many and many a time have I gone without a dinner and eaten in bitterness a dry crust of bread on the road at a time when even the poorest were seated round a table. All this I have suffered and am still suffering to-day, and with no other object than the realization of my plans for helping the poor” (R.’s Guimps, 189). It was clear that he could not help others till he himself got help; and he now did get just the help he wanted, an assistant who though a schoolmaster was, strange to say, perfectly ready to learn, and to throw himself into carrying out another man’s ideas. This was Hermann Kruesi, a man twenty-five years old, who from the age of 18 had been master of the village school at Gais in Appenzell. In consequence of the war between the French and Austrians, Appenzell was now reduced to a state of famine, and bands of children were sent off to other cantons to escape starvation. Fischer, a friend of Pestalozzi’s, and himself an educationist taught by Salzmann (supra289), wrote from Burgdorf to the pastor of Gais, offering to get thirty children taken in by the people of Burgdorf, and asking that they might be sent with some one who would look after them in the day-time and teach them. In answer to this invitation Kruesi, after a week’s march, entered Burgdorf with a troop of little ones. The children were drawn up in an open place, and benevolent people chose which they would adopt. Kruesi was taken into the Castle which the Government had made over partly to Fischer, partly to Pestalozzi. In it Kruesi opened a day-school. Fischer soon afterwards died; and Pestalozziproposed to Kruesi, who had become entirely converted to his views, that they should unite and together carry on the school in the Castle. By a decree of 23rd July, 1800, the Executive Council granted to Pestalozzi the gratuitous use of as much of the Castle and garden as he needed, and thus was established Pestalozzi’s celebrated Institute at Burgdorf.
§ 58. Very soon Kruesi enlisted other helpers who had readLeonard and Gertrude, viz., Tobler and Buss, and this is his account of the party: “Our society thus consisted of four very different men ... the founder, whose chief reputation was that of a dreamy writer, incapable in practical life, and three young men, one [Tobler] a private tutor whose youth had been much neglected, who had begun to study late, and whose pedagogic efforts had never produced the results his character and talents seemed to promise; another [Buss], a bookbinder, who devoted his leisure to singing and drawing; and a third [Kruesi himself], a village schoolmaster who carried out the duties of his office as best he could without having been in any way prepared for them. Those who looked on this group of men, scarce one of them with a home of his own, naturally formed but a small opinion of their capabilities. And yet our work succeeded, and won the public confidence beyond the expectations of those who knew us, and even beyond our own” (R.’s Guimps, 304).
§ 59. With assistance from the Government there was added to the united schools of Pestalozzi and Kruesi a training class for teachers; and elementary teachers were sent to spend a month at Burgdorf and learn of Pestalozzi, as years afterwards they were sent to the same town to learn of Froebel. This Institute opened in January, 1801,and had nearly three years of complete success. In it was carried out Pestalozzi’s notion that there should be “no gulf between the home and the school.” On one occasion a parent visiting the establishment exclaimed, “Why, this is not a school but a family!” and Pestalozzi declared that this was the highest praise he could give it. The bond which united them all, both teachers and scholars, was love of “Father Pestalozzi.” Want of space kept the number of children below a hundred, and these enjoyed great freedom and worked away without rewards and almost without punishments. Both public reports and private speak very highly of the results. In June, 1802, the President of the Council of Public Education in Bern declares: “Pestalozzi has discovered the real and universal laws of all elementary teaching.” A visitor, Charles Victor von Bonstetten, writes: “The children know little, but what they know, they know well.... They are very happy and evidently take great pleasure in their lessons, which says a great deal for the method.... As it will be long before there is another Pestalozzi, I fear that the rich harvest his discovery seems to promise will be reserved for future ages.”
The success of the method was specially conspicuous in arithmetic. A Nürnberg merchant who came prejudiced against Pestalozzi was much impressed and has acknowledged: “I was amazed when I saw these children treating the most complicated calculations of fractions as the simplest thing in the world.”
§ 60. Up to this point Pestalozzi may be said to have gained by the disposition to “reform” or revolutionise everything, which had prevailed in Switzerland since 1798. But from the reaction which now set in he suffered more than he had gained. Switzerland sent deputies to Paris todiscuss under the direction of the First Consul Bonaparte what should be their future form of Government. Among these deputies Pestalozzi was elected, and he set off thinking more of the future of the schools than of the future of the Government. At Paris he asked for an interview with Bonaparte, but destruction being in his opinion a much higher art than instruction, the First Consul said he could not be bothered about questions of A, B, C. He, however, deputed Monge to hear what Pestalozzi had to say, but the mathematician seems to have agreed with some English authorities that “there was nothing in Pestalozzi.”[158]On his return to Switzerland Pestalozzi was asked by Buss, “Did you see Bonaparte?” “No,” replied Pestalozzi, “I did not see Bonaparte and Bonaparte did not see me.” His presumption in thus putting himself on an equality with the great conqueror seems to have taken away the breath of his contemporaries: but “the whirligig of time brings in his revenges,” and before the close of the century Europe already thinks more in amount, and immeasurably more in respect, of Pestalozzi than of Bonaparte.
§ 61. As a result of the reaction the Government of United Switzerland ceased to exist, and the Cantons were restored. This destroyed Pestalozzi’s hopes of Government support, and even turned his Institute out of doors. TheCastle of Burgdorf was at once demanded for the Prefect of the District; but Pestalozzi was offered an old convent at Münchenbuchsee near Bern, and thither he was forced to migrate.
§ 62. Close to Münchenbuchsee was Hofwyl where was the agricultural institution of Emmanuel Fellenberg. Fellenberg and Pestalozzi were old friends and correspondents, and as they had much regard for each other and Fellenberg was as great in administration as Pestalozzi in ideas, there seemed a chance of their benefiting by co-operation; but this could not be. The teachers desired that the administration should be put into the hands of Fellenberg, and this was done accordingly, “not without my consent,” says Pestalozzi, “but to my profound mortification.” He could not work with this “man of iron,” as he calls Fellenberg; so he left Münchenbuchsee and accepting one of several invitations he settled in the Castle of Yverdun near the lake of Neuchatel. Within a twelvemonth he was followed by his old assistants, who had found government by Fellenberg less to their taste than no-government by Pestalozzi.
§ 63. Thus arose the most celebrated Institute of which we read in the history of education. For some years its success seemed prodigious. Teachers came from all quarters, many of them sent by the Governments of the countries to which they belonged, that they might get initiated into the Pestalozzian system. Children too were sent from great distances, some of them being intrusted to Pestalozzi, some of them living with their own tutor in Yverdun and only attending the Institute during the day. The wave of enthusiasm for the new ideas seemed to carry everything before it; but there is nothing stable in a wave, and whenthe enthusiasm has subsided disappointment follows. This was the case at Yverdun, and Pestalozzi outlived his Institute. But the principles on which he worked and the spirit in which he worked could not pass away; and, at least in Germany, all elementary schoolmasters acknowledge how much they are indebted to his teaching.
§ 64. Of the state of things in the early days of the Institute we have a very lively account written for his own children by Professor Vuillemin, who entered it in 1805 as a child of eight, and was in it for two years. From this I extract the following portrait of Pestalozzi: “Imagine, my children, a very ugly man with rough bristling hair, his face scarred with small-pox and covered with freckles, an untidy beard, no neck-tie, his breeches not properly buttoned and coming down to his stockings, which in their turn descended on to his great thick shoes; fancy him panting and jerking as he walked; then his eyes which at one time opened wide to send a flash of lightning, at another were half closed as if engaged on what was going on within; his features now expressing a profound sadness and now again the most peaceful happiness; his speech either slow or hurried, either soft and melodious or bursting forth like thunder; imagine the man and you have him whom we used to call our Father Pestalozzi. Such as I have sketched him for you we loved him; we all loved him, for he loved us all; we loved him so warmly that when some time passed without our seeing him, we were quite troubled about it, and when he again appeared we could not take our eyes off him” (Guimps, 315).
§ 65. At this time he was no less loved by his assistants, who put up with any quarters that could be found for them, and received no salary. We read that the money paid bythe scholars was kept in the room of “the head of the family”; every master could get the key, and when they required clothes they took from these funds just the sum requisite. This system, or want of system, went on for some time without abuse. As Vuillemin says, it was like a return to the early days of the Christian Church.
§ 66. We have seen that the first Emperor Napoleon “could not be bothered about questions of A, B, C.” His was the pride that goes before a fall. On the other hand the Prussian Government which he brought to the dust in the battle of Jena (1806) had the wisdom to perceive that children will become men, and that the nature of the instruction they receive will in a great measure determine what kind of men they turn out. How was Prussia again to raise its head? Its rulers decided that it was by the education of the people. “We have lost in territory,” said the king; “our power and our credit abroad have fallen; but we must and will go to work to gain in power and in credit at home. It is for this reason that I desire above everything that the greatest attention be paid to the education of the people” (Guimps, 319). About the same time the Queen (Louisa) wrote in her private diary, “I am readingLeonard and Gertrude, and I delight in being transported into the Swiss village. If I could do as I liked I should take a carriage and start for Switzerland to see Pestalozzi; I should warmly shake him by the hand, and my eyes filled with tears would speak my gratitude.... With what goodness, with what zeal, he labours for the welfare of his fellow-creatures! Yes, in the name of humanity, I thank him with my whole heart.”
So in the day of humiliation Prussia seriously went to work at the education of the people, and this she did onthe lines pointed out by Pestalozzi. To him they were directed by their philosopher Fichte, who in hisAddresses to the German Nation(delivered at Berlin 1807-8) declared that education was the only means of raising a nation, and that all sound reform of public instruction must be based on the principles of Pestalozzi.
To bring these principles to bear on popular education, the Prussian Government sent seventeen young men for a three years’ course to Pestalozzi’s Institute, “where,” as the Minister said in a letter to Pestalozzi, “they will be prepared not only in mind and judgment, but also in heart, for the noble vocation which they are to follow, and will be filled with a sense of the holiness of their task, and with new zeal for the work to which you have devoted your life.”
§ 67. Among the eminent men who were drawn to Yverdun were some who afterwards did great things in education, ase.g., Karl Ritter, Karl von Raumer the historian of education, the philosopher Herbart, and a man who was destined to have more influence than anyone, except perhaps Pestalozzi himself—I mean Friedrich Froebel. Ritter’s testimony is especially striking. “I have seen,” says he, “more than the Paradise of Switzerland, for I have seen Pestalozzi, and recognised how great his heart is, and how great his genius; never have I been so filled with a sense of the sacredness of my vocation and the dignity of human nature as in the days I spent with this noble man.... Pestalozzi knew less geography than a child in one of our primary schools, yet it was from him that I gained my chief knowledge of this science; for it was in listening to him that I first conceived the idea of the natural method. It was he who opened the way to me, and I takepleasure in attributing whatever value my work may have entirely to him.”
§ 68. At this time we read glowing accounts of the healthy and happy life of the children; and throughout Pestalozzi never lost a single pupil by illness. With a body of very able assistants, instruction was carried on for ten hours out of the twenty-four; but in these hours there was reckoned the time spent in drill, gymnastics, hand-work, and singing. The monotony of school-life was also broken by frequent “festivals.”
§ 69. And yet the Institute had taken into it the seeds of its own ruin. There were several causes of failure, though these were not visible till the house was divided against itself.
§ 70. First, Pestalozzi based the morality and discipline of the school on the relations of family life. He would be the “father” of all the children. At Burgdorf this relation seemed a reality, but it completely failed at Yverdun when the Institute became, from the number of the pupils and their differences in language, habits, and antecedents, a little world. The pupils still called him “Father Pestalozzi,” but he could no longer know them as a father should know his children. Thus the discipline of affection slowly disappeared, and there was no school discipline to take its place.
§ 71. Next, we can see that even at Burgdorf, and still more at Yverdun, Pestalozzi was attempting to do impossibilities. According to his system, the faculties of the child were to be developed in a natural unbroken order, and the first exercises were to give the child the power of surmounting later difficulties by its own exertions. But this education could not be started at any age, and yet children of every age and every country were received into theInstitution. It was not likely that the fresh comers could be made to understand that they “knew nothing,” and must start over again on a totally different road. The teachers might take such pupils to the water of “sense-impressions,” but they could not inspire the inclination to drink, nor induce the lad to learn what he supposed himself to know already. (Cfr. suprap. 64, § 4.)
§ 72. But there was a greater mischief at work than either of these. In his discourse to the members of the Institution on New Year’s Day, 1808, Pestalozzi surprised them all by his gloom. He had had a coffin brought in, and he stood beside it. “This work,” said he, “was founded by love, but love has disappeared from our midst.” This was only too true, and the discord was more deeply rooted than at first appeared. Among the brood of Pestalozzians there was a Catholic shepherd lad from Tyrol, Joseph Schmid by name, and he, in the end, proved a veritable cuckoo. As he shewed very marked ability in mathematics, he became one of the assistant masters; and a good deal of the fame of the Institution rested on the performances of his pupils. But his ideas differed totally from those of his colleagues, especially from those of Niederer, a clergyman with a turn for philosophy, who had become Pestalozzi’s chief exponent.
§ 73. After Pestalozzi’s gloomy speech, the masters, with the exception of Schmid, urged Pestalozzi to apply for a Government inquiry into the state of the Institution. This Pestalozzi did, and Commissioners were appointed, among them an educationist, Père Girard of Freiburg, by whom the Report was drawn up. The Report was not favourable. Père Girard was by no means inclined to sit at the feet of Pestalozzi, as he had principles of his own. Pestalozzi, hethought, laid far too much stress on mathematics, and he drew from him a statement that everything taught to a child should seem as certain as that two and two made four. “Then,” said Girard, “if I had thirty children I would not intrust you with one of them. You could not teach him that I was his father.” Thus the Report, though very friendly in tone, was by no means friendly in spirit. The Commissioners simply compared the performances of the scholars with what pupils of the same age could do in good schools of the ordinary type, and Père Girard stated, though not in the Report, that the Institution was inferior to the Cantonal School of Aargau. But the comparison of these incommensurables only shews that Girard was not capable of understanding what was going on at Yverdun. Indeed, he asserts “not only that the mother-tongue was neglected,” but also that the children, “though they had reached a high pitch of excellence in abstract mathematics, were inconceivably weak in all ordinary practical calculations.” This is absurd. In Pestalozzian teaching the abstract never went before ordinary practical calculations. The good Father evidently blunders, and takes “head-reckoning” for abstract, and pen or pencil arithmetic for practical work. Reckoning with slate or paper is no doubt “ordinary,” but a distinction has often to be drawn between what is ordinary and what is practical.
§ 74. Soon after this the disputes between Schmid and his colleagues waxed so fierce that Schmid was virtually driven away. In 1810 he left Yverdun, and declared the Institution “a disgrace to humanity.” Great was the disorder into which the Institution now fell from having over it only a genius with “an unrivalled incapacity to govern.” The days which “remind us of the early Church” were nomore, and financial difficulties naturally followed them. For the next five years things went from bad to worse, and the masters were then driven to the desperate, and, as it proved, the fatal step of inviting the able and strong-willed Schmid back again. He came in 1815, he acquired entire control over Pestalozzi, and drove from him all his most faithful adherents, among them not only Niederer, who had invited the return of his rival, but even Kruesi and the faithful servant, Elizabeth Naef, now Mrs. Kruesi, the widow of Kruesi’s brother. Pestalozzi’s grandson married Schmid’s sister, and thus united with him by family ties, Schmid took entire possession of the old man and kept it till the end. His former colleagues seem to have been deceived in their estimate both of Schmid’s integrity and ability. He completed the ruin of the Institution, and he was finally expelled from Yverdun by the Magistrates.
§ 75. But while Pestalozzi seemed falling lower and lower to the eyes of the inhabitants of Yverdun, and so had little honour in his own country, his fame was spreading all over Europe. Of this Yverdun was to reap the benefit. In 1813-14, Austrian troops marched across Switzerland to invade France. In January, 1814, the Castle and other buildings in Yverdun were “requisitioned” for a military hospital, many of the Austrian soldiers being down with typhus fever. In a great fright the Municipality sent off two deputies to headquarters, then at Basel, to petition that this order might be withdrawn. As the order threatened the destruction of his Institution, Pestalozzi went with them, and it was entirely to him they owed their success. On their return they reported that “no military hospital would be established at Yverdun, and that M. Pestalozzi had been received with most extraordinary favour.”
§ 75. On this occasion Pestalozzi took the opportunity of preaching to the Emperor Alexander on the necessity of establishing good schools and of emancipating the serfs. The Emperor took the lecture in good part, and allowed the philanthropist to drive him into a corner and “button-hole” him.
§ 76. In 1815 Pestalozzi received a visit from an Englishman, or more accurately Scotsman—Dr. Bell, who, however, like most of our compatriots, could find nothing in Pestalozzi. Whatever we may think of Bell as an educationist, he was certainly a poor prophet. On leaving Yverdun he said, “In another twelve years mutual instruction will be adopted by the whole world and Pestalozzi’s method will be forgotten.”[159]
§ 77. In December, 1815, Pestalozzi was thrown more completely into the power of Schmid by losing the only companion from whom nothing but death could separate him—his wife. At the funeral Pestalozzi, standing by the coffin, and as if heard by her whose earthly remains were in it, ran over the disasters and trials they had passed through together, and the sacrifices she had made for him. “What in those days of affliction,” said he, “gave us strength to bear our troubles and recover hope?” and taking up a Bible he went on, “Thisis the source whence you drew, whence we both drew courage, strength, and peace.”
§ 78. The “death agony of the Institution,” as Guimps calls it, lasted for some years, but in this gloomy period there are only two incidents I will mention. The first is the publication of Pestalozzi’s writings, for which Schmid and Pestalozzi sought subscriptions; and the appeal was so cordially answered that Pestalozzi received £2,000. This sum he wished to devote to the carrying out of a plan he had always cherished of an orphanage at Neuhof; but the money seems to have melted we do not know how.
§ 79. The other incident is that of Pestalozzi’s last success. In spite of Schmid he would open a school for twelve neglected children at Clindy, a hamlet near Yverdun. Here he produced results like those which had crowned his first efforts at Neuhof, Stanz, and Burgdorf. Old, absent-minded, and incapable as he seemed in ordinary affairs, he, as though by enchantment, gained the attention and the affection of the children, and bent them entirely to his will. In a few months the number of children had risen to thirty, and wonderful progress had been made. Clindy at once became celebrated. Pestalozzi was induced to admit some children whose friends paid for them, and Schmid then persuaded the old man to remove the school into the Castle.
§ 80. In 1824 the Institution, which had lasted for twenty years, was finally closed, and Pestalozzi went to spend his remaining days (nearly three years as it proved) at Neuhof, which was then in the hands of his grandson. The year before his death he visited an orphanage conducted on his principles by Zeller at Beuggen near Rheinfelden. The children sang a poem of Goethe’s quoted inLeonard and Gertrude, and had a crown of oak ready to put on the old man’s head; but this he declined. “I am not worthy of it,” said he, “keep it for innocence.”
§ 81. On 17th February, 1827, at the age of eighty-one, Pestalozzi fell asleep.
§ 82. “The reform needed,” said Pestalozzi, “is not that the school-coach should be better horsed, but that it should be turned right round and started on a new track.” This may seem a violent metaphor, but perhaps it is not more violent than the change that was (and in this country still is) necessary. Let us try to ascertain what is the right road according to Pestalozzi, and then see on what road the school-coach is now travelling.