Pestalozzi and his educational system;

SENERAL

A WORD FROM THE PUBLISHER

No man did more to make the work of Pestalozzi known
in America than Dr. Barnard. In Vol. Ill of the Journal
he published von Raumer's Life of Pestalozzi, and Vol. VII
is nearly half devoted to translations of Pestalozzi's writ-
ings, still the most complete exposition of them in English.
One of the earliest and the most valuable of all his separate
books was "Pestalozzi and Pestalozzianism", of which a
small edition was published in I860. For von Raumer's
opinion of this book see p. 128 of this volume. The edition
was soon exhausted, and he planned an extended reprint
under the title " Pestalozzi and Swiss Pedagogy". When
his plates came to me I found several boxes so marked and
containing most of the material in this volume.

This second book was however never printed, and mean-
time he had accumulated much more material about Pes-
talozzi, so that in issuing the book I have thought best to
give it a title slightly different, to distinguish it from the
book that was published, containing about two-thirds of
the matter here given, and from the book announced but
not published. This volume contains every thing about
Pestalozzi that Dr. Barnard gathered, and is much the most
complete exposition of the man and of his work that has
appeared.

If it were rewritten it would be somewhat modified by
books that have been published since it was completed,
especially "Pestalozzi, his Aim and Work" by Baron Roger
de Guimps (Paris, 1874, English by Margaret Cuthbertson
Crombie, Syracuse, 1889, another translation by J. Russell,
London, 1890). But I have not ventured to make any
changes in Dr. Barnard's pages. They were a labor of
love, and form a noble contribution.

The translations of Pestalozzi's works here given are, as
I have said, the most complete in English. I have com-

3

4 PESTALOZZI AND HIS EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

pared them with the original German editions and think
perhaps a few bibliographical notes may be of interest.

Of "Leonard and Gertrude", the earliest edition I have
of the original is that of Zurich and Leipzig, 1790 for the
first two parts, and 1792 for the third part. It does not
number the chapters, or give nearly all the divisions and
headings of chapters in the translation.

In Pestalozzi's complete works (Stuttgart and Tubingen,
1820, see p. 167 of this volume) the first four volumes are
given to Leonard and Gertrude. Here the chapters are
numbered, and Vol. I gives Dr. Barnard's 100 chapters.
In Mann's edition (Langensalza, 1878) Leonard and Ger-
trude occupies two of the four volumes, and in the little
Reclam Leipzig edition it makes a single volume with 170
chapters. The last 70 chapters Dr. Barnard has condensed
into "The School at Bonnal".

The translation is that of an English edition (London,
1825), though the punctuation is changed, and Dr. Barn-
ard's headings are often fuller; as for instance to chapter
"LXXXII in the London edition "The old coachman", in
Barnard, "A coachman who loves his master's son", in the
original, "Kin Kutscher, dem seines Junkers Sohn lieb ist".

Another edition of Leonard and Gertrude was published
in Philadelphia in 1801 and dedicated to William Wilber-
force. The title page reads, "Written originally in German,
translated into French, and now attempted in English, with
the hope of its being useful to all classes of society." It
gives the same 100 chapters. This is a wholly different
text, the value of which may be judged the fact that the
second sentence gives Gertrude five children instead of
seven. It is cheaply printed.

Dr. Barnard evidently realized that "How Gertrude
teaches her children " (Vol. V of complete works) was ped-
agogically more important than " Leonard and Gertrude ",
and has given more of it than had before appeared in En-
glish. The entire volume has since been translated (Syra-
cuse, 1898), and in that edition "Pestalozzi's account of
his own educational experience " in this volume is 12 pages
of the first letter, written Jan. 1^1901 (pp. 29-41). "Meth-
ods of Elementary Instruction " begins in the 6th letter and

A WORD FROM THE PUBLISHER 5

extends through the 9th (pp. 145-219).

It might be wished that more of Pestalozzi's methods be
made available in English. " Pestalozzi's Erziehungs-
unternehmung im Verhaltniss zur Zeitkultur '.' ( Iserten,
1812) does not appear in the list of Pestalozzi's works in
De Guimp and I do not know any extended reference to it in
English. The first text-book of Pestalozzi's I have found is
" Anschaunngslehre der Zahlenveraltnisse " in three vol-
umes (Zurich, 1803, see p. 168 of this volume). It has
been adapted to American schools by James II. Hoose under
the title "Pestalozzian Series of Arithmetic"(Syracuse, 1882),
and is in considerable use in public schools. In 1821 P. H.
Pullen who had previously translated Pestalozzi's " Buch
der Mutter " (Zurich, 1803) published " Pestalozzi's Intel-
lectual or Intuitive Arithmetic ", not following Pestalozzi
so closely, and the similar work in this country by Warren
Colburn is well known.

' * Lessons on Number as given a Pestalozzian School,
Cheam, Surrey. The Master's Manual by C. Reiner, teacher
of mathematics at Cheam School. With a preface by Dr.
Mayo, setting forth the basis of Pestalozzi's method/' and a
similar ' ' Lessons on Form ' ' were published in England in
1835. In 1893 I purchased the remainder of the edition
and published it with a short preface; but the books have all
been sold, and are not likely to be reprinted.

The original edition bears on the fly-leaf the general
title "Pestalozzi's Elementar-Bucher ". of which another
volume is " A B C der Anschauung oder Anschauung-Lehre
der Massverhaltnisse " (Zurich, 1803), which called out
Herbart's " Pestalozzisldee eines A B C der Anschauung "
(Gottingen, 1804; Sammtliche Werke, Leipzig, 1882, i. 169-
291).

The " New Year's Address" is one of the " Reden an
sein Haus " which are given in Mann's edition (iv. 1-158)
for 1808, 1809, 1810, 1811, 1812, 18l8,the last being his "Ad-
dress on his ?3d birthday " (complete works, ix. 151)

" The Evening Hour of a Hermit " appears in all col-
lected editions of his works.

The Letters to Greaves were never published in German.
The book is mentioned under its English title in Vol. XVI

6 PESTALOZZI AND HIS EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

of Seyffarth's edition of his works (Blandenburg, 1872).
They were printed in English in London, 1827, and re-
printed in Syracuse, 1898.

The extracts from the " Swan Song " (" Schwanenge-
sang ", Mann iv. 159-361) are of course meagre. A better
idea will be got from Chapter XVII of De Guimp (pp. 245-
57)

If" The single page from the " Mother's Book '" is certainly
characteristic.

8 Except the portrait, p. 514, the illustrations were not a
part of Dr. Barnard's plan, and have been added from var-
ious sources. Those of places are mainly from the litho-
graphs in Christoffel's "Pestalozzi's Leben und Ansichteu"
(Zurich, 1846, seep. 169 of this volume). The two pictures
of the school at Stanz, differing in detail but not in char-
acter, are familiar. While the portrait on p. 512 is well

known and was the one chosen by Dr. Barnard, two others
are often printed, the one on the right from Biber's "Henry
Pestalozzi" (1831). Of this William Woodbridge says in
the Annals of Education (i. 597): "We regret that the
portrait should present us with the mere remains of Pesta-
lozzi. We are so fortunate as to possess a better one, whose
correctness we have known from personal intercourse with
this amiable man."

CONTENTS

PARTI PESTALOZZI AND HIS WORK 17

Dr. Barnard's Final "Words on Pestalozzi 17

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU 19

Emile 23, 52, 61, 67

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI, CARL

VON RAUMER 49

early school days 50

teachers 51

marriage 54

Neuhof 57, 48,* 114, 161

"Evening Hour of a Hermit" 59, 117

"Leonard and Gertrude" 62, 118, 298, 517

" Christopher and Alice" 65, 366, 665

"Figures to my A B C book" 66

"Researches into the course of nature" 66, 118

Stanz 69,130*

Burgdorf 71, 130,* 434, 720

Kriisi 71, 88, 103, 105, 323

^Hqw Gertrude teaches her children". 72, 117, 118, 669

^ form, number ,77, 262, 263, 276

magical power of words 78

Ramsauer's account of Burgdorf 84, 118

>'The A B C of observation" 86

' ¥ Lessons on the relation of numbers" 86

"Book for mothers".. 86

Fellenburg and Hof wyl , 87,109, 281,437

Buchsee 87, 90

Yverdun 88, 130*, 131, 399,, 435, 442*, 734

controversy with Niederer, 88, 106, 108, 109, 113, 293,334

Schmid 88, 92, 97, 104-8, 115, 301

Ramaauer 91, 305

mission of enquiry 96

address on 73d birthday.. !....109, 121-3, 712

10 PBSTALOZZI AND HIS EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

Clindy US.

Greaves 112,438

Xeuhof 114

"Song of the dying swan" 115

"Fortunes of my life" 115

Zeller 115, 250, 309, 437

death 116

religious instruction

poverty 124

a self-taught man IS 4

Basedow 1S5

biographies of Pestalozzi 127, 167

Clindy school 1S9

student life at Yverdun 131

reminiscenced of Dr. Mayo 143

Brougham on Pestalozzi 144

PESTALOZZIAN ISM ix GERMANY 145

Johaan Gottlieb Fichte 145

Diesterweg 147

Pestalozzi 's educational labors for the poor 161

school house at Birr, with PestalozzPs memorial... 166*,
publications by and relating to Pestalozzi (see p. 127)... 167
OBJECT TEACHING, PRINCIPLES AND METHODS, F. BUSSE, 185

Conversations on objects, C. Marcel SIT

exercises in perception

in observation SS4

in reflection

ASSISTANTS AND DISCIPLES OF PESTALOZZI 249

Frederick Froebel on Pestalozzi

FroebeFs law of opposites S73

Pestalozzi, De Fellenberg and Wehrle 281

Johannes Xiederer

Johannes Buss

Joseph Schmid 301

Hans Georg Xageli

Johann Rarnsauer 305

Karl August Zeller 309

John Ernst Plamann 313

Friedrich Adolf. Wilhelm Diesterweg 316, 387

Bernhard Gottlieb Denzel... ...319

COHTEXT8 11

Wilhelm Uarnisch 321

Hermann Krusi 323

views and plans of education 349

facsimile of manuscript of Pestalozzi and assistants... 360*

John George Tobler 361

Karl Christian Wilhelm Ton Turk 369

Robert Owen and factory population 375

intuitions in object teaching 387

PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES 389

William Maclure 389,435

Joseph Xeff 393, 435

The Academician 395

John Griscom 399,437

report of the Oswego committee ; . ..405

specimen lessons 417

^history of object teaching 429

William Russell 437

William C. Woodbridge 437

in England 438

in Oswego 438

E. A. Sheldon 439

report on object-teaching, S. S. Greene 443

in Oswego ..463,479

E. A. Sheldon on object-teaching 469

objections to object-teaching at Oswego,H. B. Wilbur... 479

PESTALOZZIANISM IN ENGLAND 499

Robert Hebert Quick 499

Oscar Browning 504

James Leitch 505

James Tilleard 507

Dr. Biber 510

PESTALOZZIANISM IN FRANCE 511

Gabriel Compayre 511

Pestalozzi, Rousseau, and Froebel in France 513

PART II SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF

PESTALOZZI 513

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE 513

The school in Bonnal 649

•CHRISTOPHER AND ALICE 665

How GERTRUDE TEACHES HER CHILDREN 669

12 l'K>TALOZZI AND HIS EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

PESTALOZZI'S EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE 671

methods of elementary instruction 675

Pestalozzi as the father of a family 703

New Year's address, 1809 712

Paternal instructions 720

Evening hour of a hermit 72S

Letters to Greaves 735-

Swan song 737

Pestalozri's hundredth birthday 743'

Memorial to Pestalozzi . .. 752:

ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of Henry Barnard, frontispiece

Another portrait of Henry Barnard 16

Portrait of Pestalozzi, 514

Pestalozzi in his school at Stans 17, 403

Xeuhoff, near Birr, 48, 166,752

Staus 130

Burgdorf 130

Yverdun 130, 442, 734

School house at Birr, with Pestalozzi Memorial 166, ?5-2

Manuscript of Pestalozzi, Ramsauer, Xiederer, Tobler 360

Pestalozzi in his school at Stanz 403

Yverdun 442

The castle at Yverdun 734

Memorial to Pestalozzi at Birr... ...T-V2

13

PESTALOZZI
AND HIS EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM

HENRY BARNARD IN 1881

PESTALOZZI AND PESTALOZZIANISM.

LAST WORDS.

We shall close our editorial studies and publications respecting the
great Swiss educator with this, and possibly one additional chapter
in the current volume of the Journal. The articles which follow
will amply repay the closest attention.

The first gives an interesting picture of the daily life of Pestalozzi's
Family School in the old castle of Yverdun, at a time when his
reputation had drawn together pupils and assistants from every
nation in Europe. In spite of the unappreciative spirit of the
writer, and the evidence of the astounding incapacity of the principal
for the administration of affairs, we see and feel the strenpth and
warmth of his great heart which brought and kept together such
widely differing antagonisms, — of his constant forgetfulness of self in
his immense devotion to the interests of his fellowmen, — and of
his insight into the true philosophy and means of human culture,
without the trained faculties in himself, the result of his own imper-
fect education, to perfect and apply the methods.

The second article gives us at once an appreciative account. of the
principles of the Pestalozzian system, by one competent to under-
stand it, and at the same time gives us the first glimpses of the
K ndersrarten, as it revealed itself to Froebel in his profound study of
the child at play and in school.

The third article, in the list of over three hundred distinct
treatises on Pestalozzi and his system, and which is far from being
-complete, shows both the originality and value of his views, so
largely and variously discussed, and opens up a rich field of special
study to the student of human culture.

These and other papers, published in the early volumes of the
American Journal of Education, will appear in a separate volume
{the contents of which is given on the next page), as soon as there is
any evidence that a revised edit'on is wanted.

HENRY BARNARD.

HARTFOKD, CONN., March 15, 1881.

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU, whose educational as well as political
speculations exerted a mighty influence on his age, was born at Geneva,
in Switzerland, June 28th, 1712. His father was a watchmaker, a
good mechanic, and fond of reading ; and his mother a woman of
considerable beauty, and great intelligence. She died in giving him
birth, and for some years he seems to have had little or no instruction
or guidance of any kind except from his father, who was too poor, too
busy, and, apparently, not quite judicious enough, for the purpose.
They read together, before the boy was seven years old, whole nights
through, some romances which had been his mother's ; and when
those were finished, some books of divinity and translations of the
classics. Thus the boy learned to love reading, but evidently could not
acquire good habits, either physical or mental; and his "Confessions"
show that he stole, lied, and played dirty tricks. In short, he was
a "bright" boy, but indolent, irritable, mischievous, thoroughly un-
principled, untrained, and ill-bred.

With these wretched early habits, which had strengthened his
natural evil tendencies, and in a condition of poverty which both pre-
vented their ready gratification and made their precise opposites the
indispensable conditions to prosperity and happiness, he entered upon
the vagrant and unhappy series of wanderings and adventures which
might have been expected. He was placed with an attorney, who
discharged him for negligence ; then with an engraver, whom he left,
as he says, on account of his harshness, — which undoubtedly was only
proper strictness. He next ran away from home, for fear of being
punished for his vices; and he took refuge with Borney, Catholic
bishop of Annecy. Here he asserted himself a convert to Catholicism,
and was placed, for religious instruction, with a Madame de Warens,
herself a recent proselyte. She in turn sent him to a Catholic semi-
nary, at Turin, where he completed the required preparations, publicly
recanted his Protestant belief, and then declined to study for the
priesthood. Upon this they dismissed him, with twenty florins ;
which he spent, became servant to a countess, stole a ribbon, and
managed to have the blame laid on a decent waiting-maid in the
family. When the countess died he took a place in the family of a
nobleman, whose son treated him like a companion, and instructed
him. After a time, however, he was disobedient and insolent, and

20 JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.

was dismissed. Penniless, he returned to Madame de Warens, with
whom he lived, as a sort of paid lover, for about ten years. She ob-
tained for him a place in a surveying commission, established by tho
King of Sardinia, and other employments ; none of which he had the
•decency or the industry to retain ; forgave him for twice eloping from
her ; but, becoming at last disgusted by his unfaithfulness, secured
him employment as a tutor in a gentleman's family at Lyons. But
the desultory studies in music and mathematics, and occasional em-
ployment as music teacher, which had occupied him while with her,
had not rendered him fit for the regular and decent duties of an in-
structor; and in a tit of anger and shame he resigned the place, in
1741. He now walked to Paris, with fifteen louis, his entire means,
in his pocket ; in some way got into good literary society ; offered
the musicians of the city a new scheme of musical notation, which
was at once rejected ; lived in penury two years, supported by music-
copying and obscure employments. At the end of that time his
friends obtained him a place as secretary to the French ambassador
at Venice, where he stayed two years, living a shamelessly vicious
life, quarreled with his superior, and returned to Paris.

Here he hired a small room, and became attached to Therese Le-
vasseur, a vulgar and stupid girl, who lived with him as his mistress
for twenty years, and whom he then married. They had five children,
all of whom the father quietly placed in the foundling hospital, and
whom he never afterward tried to identify ; nor was he at all in-
terested when some of his friends sought to find them for him. After
his death, his wife married a hostler.

He earned a scanty living, after this last removal to Paris, by copy-
ing music ; and failed in the attempt at operatic composition. After
a time he obtained the place of clerk to one of the farmers-general of
the revenue, from the profits of which he sent some little money to
Madame de Warens, then in great poverty. About 1748, he was
employed to write some articles on music for the "JEncyclopcedia"
which he did, he says, " very quickly and very ill."

During his life in Paris, his' associates were literary men, especially
of the school of Diderot and D'Alembert, and a crew of licentious
and swindling men of rank and fashion, whom he calls " very agree-
able and very respectable."

In 1749, at the age of 37, he made his first successful attempt at
authorship, by writing an answer to a prize question proposed by the
Academy of Dijon, " Whether the progress of the arts and sciences
has tended to the purification of manners and morals.'" At the sug-
gestion of Diderot, who reminded him of the greater notoriety which
he could gain on the wrong side, he took the negative, and found his

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. 21

line of argument exactly adapted to his modes of thought and feel-
ing. He rapidly composed a violent, brilliant, and eloquent, but
sophistical and inconsistent denunciation of civilized life, won the
prize, and at once saw himself comparatively eminent.

In 1752, he once more tried operatic composition. His "Devin du
Village" (Village Conjuror,) was very successful ; and he also wrote
a tragedy and three comedies, none of them of much value. Dur-
ing the following year he competed for a second prize offered by the
Academy of Dijon, for the best answer to the question, " What is the
cause of inequality among men ?" but did not succeed. The charac-
ter of this production, and the audacity of his philosophical methods,
may be judged of from his own remark that, in composing this treat-
ise, he purposely " looked away from all the facts of history."

The attacks which his first prize essay had occasioned, and others
which were caused by a "Letter on French Music" in which he con-
tended that the French had not and could not have any vocal music,
by reason of the defects of the language, had now gained him con-
siderable reputation. In fact, he had taken advantage of this, to re-
visit his birthplace, Geneva ; and it was while there that he com-
posed his unsuccessful prize essay. He was much caressed ; became
filled with republican enthusiasm ; and, being, in his own words,
"ashamed of being excluded from my rights as a citizen by the pro-
fession of a faith not that of my fathers," he made another recanta-
tion, and publicly professed himself a Protestant.

Having returned to Paris, he gave up, out of fear of persecution, a
government appointment, for which he had exchanged his clerkship,
and for a long time afterward lived chiefly upon the bounty of his
friends, contributed in the shape of wages for copying music.

In 1756, Rousseau, in pursuance of an invitation from Madame
d' Epinay, established himself at a house called ]' Hermitage, upon
her estate at Montmorenci, not far from Paris. Here he remained
for about ten years, and wrote some of his most celebrated works ;
"La Nouvelle Heloise," "Emile," and the "Contrat Social."

The "Heloise" is a novel, without a good plot, and without well-
drawn characters ; attractive for vigorous language, passionate feel-
ing, and opinions dangerous but seductively expressed. It appeared
in 1759, and was followed, in 1762, by "JSmile" perhaps his greatest
or, at least, most celebrated work. This was written for Madame de
Luxembourg, and is a singular compound of acute observation, truth,
sophistry, rhetoric, and irreligion. ' It was not so well received by the
public as some of his other works, and was with justice condemned
by the archbishop and the parliament of Paris. It had a powerful
influence on a class of educators, both in Germany and Switzerland.

The "Contrat Social'1'1 came out very soon afterward. It is only

-22 JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.

one part of a great work on political institutions, which he had cle
signed as early as his stay in Venice, and is a scheme of entire social
equality. Before the whole of it was printed, the author was in-
formed that government intended to imprison him, and fled to Swit-
zerland. Geneva refused to receive him, and, both there and at Paris,
his work was publicly burned by the common hangman. He finally
found rest with Marshal Keith, in Neufchatel, where he wrote an an-
swer to the decree of the archbishop of Paris for the burning of " Emile"
and his "Lett-res de la Montague" in which he attacked the clergy and
the republic of Geneva, and renounced his citizenship of the latter.
A mob, how instigated it is not quite clear, drove him away, and he
fled to an island in the lake of Bienne. Having in vain sought an
asylum in Berne, he now went to Strasburg, and thence to Paris,
where he arrived in great destitution, and became acquainted with
Hume, the historian, then English charge d'affaires there. Hume,
out of sympathy and kindness, carried him to England and placed
him in a comfortable situation there. Rousseau, however, who seems
by this time actually to have become monomaniac on the subject of
persecution, soon imagined that Hume was secretly attacking his rep-
utation, wrote him an abusive letter, renounced a pension which he
had secured for him from the English government, and returned to
France. Here he wandered about the country for a year or two,
busying himself with botanical studies, which he pursued eagerly and
with success. It was during this period that he published his "Dic-
tionnaire de Musique,r rewritten from his articles in the "Encyclopae-
dia;" a work, like all his writings, containing many acute observations
and just remarks, but full of errors, and misleading in tendency ; and
during the same period it was that he united himself in marriage to
Therese Levasseur, with whom he had lived since 1*745.

In 1770, he obtained, through his friends, permission to come to
Paris, where otherwise he would still have been liable to imprison-
ment under the sentence passed on account of "Emile" He was,
however, obliged to promise not to write upon politics or religion,
which he accordingly did not do ; and was officially cautioned against
publicity; which admonition he took pleasure in setting at defiance,
and, contrary to his previous shy habits, he went much into society.

He was, however, now reduced to an excessively unhealthy mental
condition, had become extremely rude and testy in manner, irritable
and suspicious ; his health was also failing, and he was falling into
deep poverty. In 1778, the Marquis de Girardin invited him and
his wife to occupy a small house near his country-seat of Ermenon-
ville, some thirty miles from Paris. He accepted the invitation, but
had been established there scarcely two months when he died from a
stroke of apoplexy, July 3d, 1778.

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE 33

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE

THE Emile of Rousseau is not a system of pedagogy m the usual
sense of the term. " My system," says Rousseau, " is nature's course of
development." After a short general introduction, he discusses, in
the first book, the management of new-born children, and. in particu-
lar, of Emile, up to the time when he learned to talk; the second
book treats of his education from that time to his twelfth year ; the
third ends when he is fifteen ; the fourth brings him to his marriage;
and, in the fifth, are described Sophia, his wife, and her education.

The work is rendered still more different from a system, because it
contains a large number of digressions upon subjects which have lit-
tle or nothing to do with pedagogy. It would be a vain endeavor to
attempt to bring it into a systematic form. I shall, therefore, follow
the author, step by step, (except in the digressions,) and thus give a
general view of his book. Rousseau's skill as a writer renders it diffi-
cult for the reader of Emile to estimate calmly his paradoxes, and to
see through his sophistries. It is my hope that the following view
may serve as a clear plan of this labyrinth of Rousseau's, and that
the remarks which I have added may form a guide through it.

Preface. — The book, says the author, was originally written for a thought-
ful mother. Even if the thoughts contained in it are of no value in themselves,
they ought to serve to awaken valuable thoughts in others. Every body writes
and cries out against the usual methods of instruction, but no one suggests a bet-
ter one. The knowledge of our century serves much more for destroying than
for building ii|>.

Childhood is not understood. The most judicious, in their teaching, confine
themselves to that which it is necessary for a man to know ; without considering
what children are fit to learn. They are always seeking for a man in the child,
without ever thinking what the child is before it becomes a man.

My system is nature's course of development. This term will be mistaken by
many of my ivaders. They will take my book to be, not a work upon education,
but the dreams of a visionary. I do not see as others do ; but can I give myself
others' eyes ? I can not change my views ; I can only suspect them. It has
been often said to me, Propose only what can be accomplished. This means, pro-
pose something which is done now ; or, at least, something good, of such a kind
that it will come into agreement with prevalent evils. Such a collocation would
destroy the good without healing the bad. I would rather adhere entirely to
what is already received than to try any half measures.

In order that the plans proposed may be well received and practicable, they
must correspond with the nature of things ; in the present case, for instance, the
plan of education laid down must be adapted to human nature. A second
work must consider accidental relations, such as the relations of mnn in certain
countries or in certain conditions. I do not concern^jnysa^' with such relations,
but treat only of the education of the human being in itseTW'V

As Rousseau, in his treatises upon the inequality of man, traces
the progress of our race from the natural to the civilized, he proposes
here an entirely similar problem. Emile, his pupil, is humanity per-
sonified, in the natural condition of childhood ; a tutor teaches this
child of nature naturally. He is afterward to come into a civilized

24 ROUSSEAU'S EM1LE.

condition, into the relations of the present world ; even to live in
Paris, under Louis XV. Would not Emile, appear in such a position
as a natural Don Quixote in the higher circles, as Rousseau himself
appeared ?

With received notions Rousseau had no intercourse ; he sets up
his educational principles, as something absolutely good, against the
former, as something absolutely bad. Without reading further, we
may here conclude that there is only one who has the right to say,.
"Put not new wine into old bottles."

Whether it is right to deal with the education of man, in the ab-
stract, to discuss the personified idea of human childhood, instead of
the education of a Frenchman or a German, of a townsman,.
farmer, etc., we shall inquire more particularly hereafter. At this-
time it will suffice to say that, in this, Rousseau contradicts himself.
Emile, upon careful consideration, will be seen to be only a French-
man in puris naturalibus, who, as he grows up, is adorned with a
laced coat, peruke on head, and sword by side. Still it would have
been beneficial, if Rousseau had, by this, reminded the French that
they came into the world naked, and that naked they will go out.
FIRST BOOK. INTRODUCTION. FJKST YEAR OF EMILE'S LIFE.
1. Nature and Art.

All is good, as it comes from the hand of the Creator ; all degenerates, under
the hands of man. He forces one country to produce the fruits of another, one
tree to bear that of another ; he confounds climates, elements, and seasons ; he
mutilates his dog, his horse, his slave ; turns every thing topsy-turvy, disfigures
every thing; he will have nothing as nature made it, not even man himself; he
must be trained like a managed horse ; trimmed like a tree in a garden. If this
does not happen, things turn out still worse ; our race will not be satisfied with
being half modified. Under present circumstances, a man who should live from
birth upward, among others, and be entirely left to himself, would be deformed
more than any other. Prejudice, authority, force, example, all the social influ-
ences which gather over us, could stifle nature in him, and set nothing in her
place. He would be like the young tree which has grown up by chance in the
street ; it must soon be destroyed by the crowd of persons passing over it, who
tread it down on all sides, and bend it in every direction. I turn to the fond and
wise mother, who knows how to remove the child from the street, and to pre-
serve the growing tree from contact with human opinions.

Bacon defines art, " homo rebus additus" by this we may under-
stand that to man, as to the image of God, is given not only the do-
minion over nature, but also the charge of a sort of education of her,
so that under his hands she may look more beautiful ; even human.
Rousseau, instead of honorable and divinely-intended art, sees, in his
bitterness, only a caricature ; only what depraved men have done to
disfigure nature ; and, at the same time puts forth such perversions
as these, as most refreshing improvements. Would he prefer the
crab tree to a Borsdorfer apple, as he does the ignorant savage man

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE 25<

to one of enlightened mind ? The child would become, according to
him, under the usual education, a caricature ; it is the mother's duty
to prevent this as far as possible. Education is her business much
more than that of the father. In this Rousseau is a forerunner of
Pestalozzi.

2. Three Teachers. Education of Men and of Citizens.

We come weak into the world, and need strength ; bare of every thing, and.
net'd assistance. All which we have not at our birth, and have when we grow
up, we acquire by education. This education we receive either from nature, from
man, or from things. The inner development of our powers and organs is the
education of nature ; the use which we are taught to make of this development,,
is education by man ; and what we learn by our own experience of the circum-
stances which have an influence upon us, the education by things.

We have no power over education by nature ; and, therefore, we must shape
both the other kinds of education by it. It is said : nature is nothing but habit..
This is true so far as habit corresponds with nature, and is not forcibly and unnat-
urally constrained.

Born with perceptions, we seek or flee from things which are agreeable or dis-
agreeable to us ; which seem to promote or hinder our happiness and our im-
provement. Such desires and aversions, so far as they do not suffer variations
through the actions or the opinions of others, are what we call nature. Every
thing in education must be so related to these, that all three of the modes of edu-
cation may constitute a harmonious whole. But nature and the conditions of citi-
zenship are at variance in many ways ; and it is necessary to determine whether
we will educate a man or a citizen. Every partial society, as of one nation, &c.,
estranges from universal human society. Yet it is necessary, before all things, to
deal rightly with those together with whom we live. Trust no cosmopolitan, who
loves the Tartars, in order to be excused from the duty of loving his neighbors.

The natural man is complete within himself; his is the numerical unity; an
absolute whole, which has relations only with itself, or with its like. The man
of society is only a fraction, which depends upon its denominator, and whose
value is determined by its relations to the whole ; to the social body. Those
modes of education are best for society, which are most efficient in perverting
men from nature ; in robbing him of his absolute existence, in giving him the
relative one, such that after it he will feel and act only as a member of a society.

This opposition between education for a citizen and fora man, corresponds with
the opposition between public education together, and private education in the
family. The former existed in Sparta ; but exists no longer, for there is no
longer any fatherland, or any citizens.

Thus, there remains for us only private education, or that of nature. But
what would the man educated only for himself become atterward, among others?
To know this, it is necessary to know the completely educated man : and also the
natural man. This book is intended to assist in gaining such knowledge.

What now is necessary to be done to educate the natural man ? Much, no
doubt ; chiefly in order to hinder any thing from being done.

The child should be educated for the common human vocation, not for any
special situation ; he must merely live, in good or evil, as life should bring
them r and should learn more by experience than by teaching. Considering the
instability of human affairs, and the restless, rebellious spirit of the present centu- \
ry,- which is overturning every thing, no more unnatural method of education 1
could be devised than that which deals with a child as if he was never to leave \
home, or the companionship of his own friends. As soon as the unhappy pupil
has gone a step away, he is lost.

Nothing is thought of but the support of a child ; yet he must sometime die
Less care is taken to preserve him from death, than to contrive how he may live..
But life is not merely breathing, but acting ; the exertion of the organs, senses,,
faculties, all which gives us the feeling of our existence.

Thus far the introduction ; partly in agreement with the preface..

26 ROUSSEAU S EMILE.

Tin- more they are considered, the MKMV mi>t y and indefinite do many
of Rousseau's ideas IK-IV appear; and especially tin; iuVa of nature.
She must instruct men, since she develops their powers and limbs;
and again, she is an instinctive ; a more or less rational sympathy
and antipathy.

What is the use of the expression, " Education of nature ?" When
a seed is buried in the earth, and the plant develops itself and grows
up, nobody calls this " nature's art of gardening." Art, on the con-
trary, is universally set in opposition to nature ; and education is an
art.

No one, who finds the basis of a well-ordered national life in a well-
ordered domestic life, based upon family love, would set domestic in-
struction in violent opposition to that of the citizen ; he would much
rather consider it the only one from which good citizens can come ;
not citizens who see and criticix-, in th»-ir kings and princes, meiv
employed agents, but who honor them as a power set over them by
God. But is it to be wondered at that Rousseau, a contemporary of
the wicked Regent, and of Louis XV., should speak thus, in pre
science of the coining revolution, which dissolved all sacred ties?

3. New-born Children. Mothers* Nurses.

Nurses shape the outside- of the heads of children, and philosophers tin- inside ;
in this respect the Caribsare more skillful than we.

The swaddling of children is a most unnatural martyrdom ; it hinders all the
.ry iiinvt menta of the limbs and of tin- blood. It is an invention of serv-
ants for the sake of convenience.

Mothers no longer nurse their children. Nurses share the children's love with
the mothers, while they follow their pleasures. II, re is the ehief cause of the
dissolution of all family relations, of all mutual love among members of a family ;
each one is thinking only of himself, and pursuing his own pl< a>mv. And the
influence of family life is the best antidote to bad morals.

Of quite opposite eharaet- r is the effeminate spoiling of children by mothers.
Nature does not treat children so ; by teething and various other ways she « m- s
them many pains, for the sake of hardening them. Why do they not imitate na-
ture in this.' (Especially are young children managed worst. Either ire do
every thing they want, or require from them every tiling we want : \\e an- sub-
jected to their whims, or th--y to ours. Thus the child commands before it can
sp' ;ik, or obeys before it can aet ; a ehild is trained into a l)ein«_r after our im-
agination, not into a natural man. If its peculiarities are to he preserved, the
maintenance of them must be can-d for from the moment of its birth until it
grows up to be a man.

These remarks of Rousseau upon the duties of mothers, which
are in agreement with Comenius, had a very good influence.

4. Father.

As the mother is the proper nurse of the child, the lather is its proper teacher.
The custom is, for him, not to have the IK <•• ssarv time; and thus children are
placed in boarding-schools, seminaries, &c., where they are deprived of all love ;
and the scattered members of one family scarcely know each other. A heavy
•curse lies upon those who neglect their paternal duties.

Rousseau was thinking here of his own sins. How forcibly does
•he speak of the dissolution of family ties !

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE 27

5. The Tutor. The Pupil.

The father who is otherwise oceupied, must find a tutor. This tutor must be
well educated and voting; and, above all, he should not be employed for money ;
should be no hireling.* Jle must put himself into close relations with the pupil ;
must be his p!av-fello\v ; must remain with him from his birth to somewhere about
his twenty -fifth year ; must be his teacher and educator.

This pupil, Kmile, is suppos. d not to have a particularly remarkable mind, but
to be of good birth, rich, and an orphan. If his parents were alive, he should
respect them, hut should obey his tutor only. Tutor and pupil should look upon
their relation with < ach other as indissoluble, in order that they may not become
estranged from each oth r.

This pupil is supposed, also, to com • from some country in the temperate /.one,
France for instance ; and must he healthy, lie (Rousseau.) could not be a wait-
er upon s'ck people, while tutor ; he eou'd not tdueate any child who should be
a burden to himself or to others. The body must have power to obey the soul ;
the weaker it is, so much the more will it be faulty ; and the stronger, so mueh
the better will it obey.

Me.iieine makes us mean ; if it cures the body, it destroys the courage. Mod-
eration and bodily labor should supply the place of medicine. Doctors with
their r.-cipes, philosophers with th -ir pr -eepts. priests with their admonitions,
make the heart faint ; they are the cause why men foriret death. By nature,
man suffers patiently, and dies in peace.

Rousseau indicates clearly that such a tutor as he requires is not
to be found, but if he was supposing such a one, why not rather a
rich father like Pascal's, to devote all his time and powers to the edu-
cation of his son ? There would then have been no need of the
chilling idea that Emile was to honor his parents, but to obey his
tutor. The natural mutual love of father and child would have been
a living motive of the whole course of instruction. But of such love
nothing would be said by a man who sent his own children to the
foundling h<»-).it;il ; or, it' it is mentioned, it is never the heartfelt
ba>is of his art of education.

Emile, it is clear from this description, is, by no means, an abso-
lute, natural man. the personification of a child. His native country,
climate, property, health, are all determined in advance.

The body is very well characterized, as the servant of the soul, but
health is valued too highly, after the rude and Spartan manner.
Rousseau would have thought tin- new-born juggler, who called him-
self the northern Hercules, well worthy of his instruction ; not the
new-born, weakly, seven months' child, the intellectual He'rcules, Kep-
ler. With characteristic exaggeration, Rousseau entirely rejects
medicine, instead of giving some positive idea of it.

Had Rousseau seen a natural man die in peace, or did he feign
this peace after the analogy of dying beasts ?f

6. First Instruction under the Tutor.

If the mother does not nurse her child herself, the tutor must select a nurse,

'Rousseau declares himself unfit to be a tutor; and, in writing upon pedagogy, hede
scribes, in his tutor, himself.

t In the second book of Emile it is said that savages, like beasts, struggle little at death,
and suffer it almost without complaints.

og KOI - MILK

IT" with her and the child into the country, and not icmain in the city, \\liich is
unhealthy, by reason of the closely packed crowd of men.* Baths, and crawl, ng
about, are very good tor children. \Ve come into the worKl entirely ignorant,,
and with an incapable body, but with the capacity to learn.

The education of a child begins with its birth ; and who can determine the
limit to which it is possible for man to attain ? By nine exp. ru -nee, without any
instruction, a man will learn an incredible quantity in the first year of his life.
If all human knowledge were to be divided into two parts, one common to all
men, and the >econd peculiar to the learned, the latter would be very simple in
comparison with the former; the former is. lio\\<\vr. overlooked, because it is
learned early, without knowing it, before we come to our understanding.

No habits should be taught to children, no regular hours for sleeping, «ating.
Arc. He should be accustomed only to have no habits ; should be train, d to in-
dependence. And he should be suffered to acquire no fear of ill-looking animals,
ma*ks. ivports of weapons. oVc. 1\ iv.-ption by the senses atVords the tirst mate-
rials for childish knowledge ; it is therefore important, that the impressions slmuld be
caused to oeenr to him :n a su, table order. Especially lie should b<_- made to.
compare the impr. - _ht with those of feeling. By moving they learn to

.>p no longer after distant things.

Rousseau'* advice, t«> arrange methodically the tirst impressions
upon the niiiul of tlie child, even before he can speak, lias K-eii fol-
lowed repeatedly, a&d, a> far a> possible. 1>\ l>a>edow, Wolke. and
even 1 Vstalo/zi !

Children speak, at first, in the universal natural language, which is not, it is
true, articulate, but is extended, and intelligible. Nur-<> understand better than
we do. and converse in this language with children : any words which they use
in it are insignificant; their accent only being to be considered. Thoe are as-
sisted by the gestures and quick and varying pantomime of the children. Cry-
ing \s their expression of hunger, heat. cold. Arc. Their elders try to check and
soothe this crying, but often misunderstand it. and try to silence them by coaxing
or blows.

Children's first tears are : f attention is paid to them, tin >

soon begin to command. They begin with helping themselves, and with making
others wait upon them.

All the had conduct of children comes from weakness ; make them strong and
they will be goc»d. He who can use all his faculties will not do ill.

Before we" attain to understanding, there is no morality in our actions : "al-
though expressions of it are sometimes seen in the sense which children show of
what others do to them."

The destructive tend.-ncies of children do not come from wickedness, but from
an evident desire for activity. Their \\ « vents the greater • M > wh eh

they might do. They <* - - k to pake instruim Jits of their elders; to

make these repair tin- harm which their weakness ha- c;m<ed. Thus they In-
come vile tyrants, and there is develo|»ed in them amb'tion, which they had not
originally, but which they retain all the rest of their

These strange and false assertions, — and v\v shall find many more
such, — a iv in. -ant to delineate the inborn innoeence of children.
Rousseau meant that it should follow, that all evil conies into men
from without. And evil, whose source is iiiitnu •« -al-le, i> not bad ; is
not sour, but sweet. How opp urustine to Rousseau ! " Can

there be," asks the former. M any ofood in a child, when he ci i
what could only hurt him if he got it .' When he gets into a violent
rage at grown-up people who an- not und.-r his authority, and e\.-n

* «« Man's breath is fatal to his like. This is true, both figuratively and literally Cities ar*
the charnel house of the human race."

ROl SSEAUS EMILE 29

at his own parents; when lie tries to injure, by blows, those wiser
than lie, if they do not obey him at the moment ? it is the weakness
of the limbs of infants, not their minds, that is innocent."

Children, (to return to Rousseau,) must be helped where it is necessary, but
their faults are not to be attended to, and they must be left to help themselves as
much as possible.

The needless crying of children will be best quieted by paying no attention to
it ; for even a child does not willingly exert himself for nothing. Crying can be
gti >i>[., •<! by turning the child's attention to some striking object, without letting
him see that that is what is meant.

Chijdren should be weaned when the teeth come.

Expensive plaything! are superfluous; cheap and simple ones are sufficient.

Children hear talking before they understand it or can speak themselves.
Nurses may sing to them, but should not be continually talking before them what
they do not understand. Some easy words should be repeatedly spoken before
them ; words which mean things, and the things should be shown at the same
time. The unfortunately easy habit of being satisfied with words which w<- ilo
not understand, begins earlier than we think ; before school age. The vocabula-
ry of children should be as simple as possible ; they should have no more words
than ideas. Children have their own grammar. Their syntax has rules mm<
general than ours ; and follows remarkably certain analogies, which are not, how-
-ever, always recognized by them. Thus, e. g.,& child says,irai-je-t-yl after
tlu analogy of vas-y. Errors of children's language should not be pedantically
corrected : they will disappear of themselves with time; only always speak cor-
rectly before them.

It is a great mistake to take so much pains to make children speak so early ;
for by tb- se very means they get a knowledge of language more slowly and
confusedly.

Tli«' children of laborers speak more distinctly than the distorted children of
the rich. The recitations in tin- schools improve the delivery so little that the
boys are in the habit of making use of learning by rote, and gabbling over what
is to be ]•• eit. il : and in the recitation they hesitate and stammer, whenever their
memories fail.

Chililr. n who are made to speak too soon, have not time enough to become
•acquainted with what they are made to talk about, and acquire wrong impressions
of it. A child ought not to speak any further than he can think. A great fault
is an aeeentless, expressionless, feelingless, way of speaking. The expression is
truer than the words ; and perhaps this is the reason why well-bred people are
so much afraid of the former, and why they speak, all of them, in the same tone ;
or they fall into a ridiculous, affected, modish accent, such as is so disagreeable in
a Frenchman.

Many of these views of Rousseau upon the instruction of the ear-
liest childhood have deservedly found approval, although here and
there approaching to extravagance, especially in this; that he would
liave French and German children, <fec., managed like young savages,
while tlio whole course of their life is still unvariedly French. Young
princes are to go barefoot. In requiring that children should talk no
further than they can think, Rousseau coincides with Comenius.

SECOND BOOK. EMILE'S CHILDHOOD TO HIS TWELFTH YEAR.

7. Unnecessary Sympathy. Unnecessary Teaching. Sacrifices of the Pres-
ent to the Future.

A new period of life begins with speech, which replaces much crying.

Unnecessary sympathy should not be shown for the griefs of children; they
*hould learn to bear them.

They should be taught nothing which they will learn themselves ; walking, for

ROIV-I vi s i. MII i:

in-taiH- -. Leading string and otlu r -urli hrlps a IT ! tlirm fall and

uu-adow, n hondred tin, > With tin- po\\, i> ,.! <h 1

dim ih. •!•• L-I..US iiji 111 tin-in i! jiu thosr p. <], by

this <\ in. nio-

;iii<l thuirriorw.ird fhildiTii tin l^tmrant

:-!ak.- tlir ehildn i l,ji,l-

.d's t'lltUIT ; to whicli prlha] -

D. < 'hilfll 1, it is fa !i. n . \il t • \ In-

ITIII«-.!I. d. Is yoor knowledge tben certain, tbaf tins tin.- \ -will,

in futtir. . iti>mv th-- happin- -vs of thr cliil.l : An.l u hat is hapj>iin>* .' l;
hap . .'tiid In- iinliai Do

•HI \«'ur inistakfii pain-, than liuin nm
:ily a child.

-ran i- ri^ht in opposing the useless tearhinir «-t' \\liat th.>
chikl will l.-arn of himself; such teaching as is found in too many
of our elemen ob, 1 1 is rejection of the belief that piuii-h-

men ^ against evil in children, follows fr«»in hi> dM.«-lirf in

original sin.

8. Dependence of Children instead of Obedience.

'..- is truly free wishes only for what is an ,.1 thus .].•

what pit-as •< 1 1 M Thi« principle shoul.l l>«- appli. «1 l<> rhihlrni.

:. '.! should I- • ! hi« weakness, bat shou
dependent, bat li«- mast ask, but od II' < "j">> an iucom-

om.

is a dependence upon things, based in n. •
man, bam.-d in the social state. The ' <!<> \Mth ip..rais. an<t

; iterial <1« | •

!>unishti» nta as hare • i t<>

bis assumptions,

In \\hit natur- r- <[Uirt«* tor. nt cif thr In^ly. thr ut»no«.t {KWsible

-!i"nM IK- | - .nt if

imi*t I it- <-are

should b«i taken t<» il

•«• paid to t!

in <-«-urtly forms of

spee- se«"

nn.l I- m t»ett»tc that tli

1 have
no limit ; onl\ ( , IchXa

\ \4iii i.r mat isor-

!K? the cas« .

- i.- as littl. Miital)!.- for chiMri.'!! a-
^ -liquid not have any thing merely because hensks f..i it.

;ily becaose it is necessary for him; he HUM <lo n..thiriLr iri("i oli«-«lin but

tn.in necessity; the words. " obey" and "comma! -.out

from and still more the words " obligai .luty :" Kut ih.-

words "|H. •' necessity," and " weakness," a ' mfjatbe the

principal ones in his vocabulary. Until the ehild comes to his undemanding he
can understand nothing of moral existence or social r^ rea-

son \\ them should be avoided, and the child should be re-

• 1 entin-ly to tin- physical world.

Rousseau's vocalmlary wants the most important word of all, lovo, —
thankful love; and, th.-nf .re, in the place of obedi. no-, \\hi.-h i- in
essence the same with love, imi-r 1..- l.iit a hard, heart rial

ROUSM. M > I. MILE. ;,1

necessity. ll«»\v ditl'iMvnt IN tin- thr«»r\ • ••!' 1 'e-tal«>//i !

;iti<'ii U an acute one, that cliililivn j>er\vrt the forms of request
• mmainU; hi> naming i- V.TV just, against the unlimited giv-

ing to them of every tiling th«-v «le-'nv.

9. Reasoning with Children.

Locke's maxim is now universally foll..\\ 'ed : that children should
with. IJut the ivsults do not speak m favor i.f tin- piaet !ren are sil-

lier than those who have b. en mueh reasoned with. CM' ail the faculti. s. the
understand. nur is d- \ -eloped the latest ; ati>l yet it is overstrained to make it In Ip
in developing th • "th> is. This is :. : the end. If children understood

'hem. fiom an early |»-

riotl, what they do m.t understand. a.-L'ii>t<>ms them to I.e .-atistied with mere

- lid to th'-rn, to think tlu-m selves as wise

hers, to be disputatious and perverse, and to do what they are sup-
posed to do from reasoiiahle < i e..\. t"nvi,e>> ..i tear or van-

ity, which are i; li.di arc «••,' n eessity added to those of reason.

hildren he children. If we ehoo-,- f r. v. r-e the . rd. r of things, we shall
get premature and tlav.,il,>s tru its. wh;eh MH.M decay : we shall have young doc-
tors and old children. \\ e might as well e.xj. n to be five feet high, as

to have judgment in their tenth year.

In tr : the duty ' • and threats are

. what is still w. and promises. Thus th. y pretend to be con-

..-on, when • !.y self-interest, or drr

think you have convineed them. u!. ri. .1 or fright' ried them.

Thus you accustom them to eonc • al their r«al m«>t:\.s hthind pr- t< nd« d ones,

make sport UM not a .

whieh is a : to them willingly,.; them unwil-

lingly ; but let what you refuse be irrevocably refus. :nty in-

11 must

absolutely nothinjj from the child, or you ;:
mony. to the most imp!

v child in v. , Impute

with him without , nd n u shall lw i

it th.it the child should be master, once for all.

Exceedingly important truth.

1". Against Jetuitical Means of Education.

since children have l>.

i-.'ini: tliein. but niiii .-ni-ss, and debased

passions.

-

think tli iren bid. in order

Mess. Then they say gravely. " Sn. h is
i is your d -

.iitimial j: 'reii; when their backs

:iij roguish tricks.

Very true.

11. Against Original Sin.

There is no original depravity in the human heart : there is not one single vice
in the heart, of \\h,h itcan'n.-t be told how, and by what road, it came in

,'ood.

out the pur-

pose of doing harm. I; ha purpose, he would be al-

most hopelessly bad *

N fn-ttrnrtion to the Twelfth Year.

f children is Mi.-h as if ehildr' n leaped, at one bound

"Onthifi -roduction

ROUSSEAl > I Mil i;

from the mother's breast to the age of reason. An ml i rvly opposite method )•

the necessary on,-; an entirely i Mj \\li.ch does not teach \irtue ;,nd

truth, hut se, k» t«« prenrre ib« heart fr,-m \,c,-s. and tin- understanding tVi m

: If you can hrin-r y«'nr pupil t» his twelfth year healthy ami strong, -
if he could not distinguish his n«;ht hainl tV«'iii his left, tin- cy,s of ln> nnd< r-
standmg would open to your first lesson in reason ; tor he would have no pn ju-
.'.ny thinir t<» sUin«l in tin- way of the « Micaey of your efforts. II,
wouli 1 SIM, n b come, under your hands, the wisest of men; an<l although \,>u
began with doing nothing, you would have accomplished a wonder of educa-
tion.

Do the opposite of what is usual and you will almost always do right.

Fn.in tin- effort to make the child not a child, hut a doctor, come the multiplied
fault-tindings, flatteries, threats, and reasonings of fathers and t, aeh- -rs. I',-- i- a
sonablc enough not to reason with your pupil. Make him ; l>ody, his

limhs, his senses, his faculties; hut keep his soul as inactive as possible ; let the
character of childhood ripen in the child, lly such delay you LMIII tune to learn
the gradually dev,|,.|nni; ,' \,,ur |»upil. 1>« fore \ ,.u un,l«-r!ake to -;.

it, and make pree ikes.

Rousseau rightly opposes the unwise endeavor to give a child the

\\ixlora of an adult, as early as possible; in preferring rather to

!i nothing, than to use such inappropriate m« • in- Th, i- i-,

however, a positive course of discipline of which Rousseau, as we

shall see, knows nothing, and refuses to know any thing.

]•'-. Education in the Country.

It is difficult, almost impottsihlc, entire! • the child against bad influ-

ences ; but best in the country. The teacher : ih<-

love of the neighborhood, and thus to secure its favorable influences upon his
pupil.

1 I Judicial Instruction.

It is unnatural to speak to children <>f tluir duties, ami n»t of their rights;
the Brat idea of right oomes to chiMnn. not from what they are bound to
do, but from what others are bound to do for them

The idea of property is firat communicated to children by some means more
effectual than mere explanations.

Nothing is said about love.

15. Moral and Religious Education.

The teacher is to blame for all the lies of children. Why does he make so
many promise*, and make so many impiine*. uh-n anything has happen

If children are to be made tak.-n t«« ehun-h. where they get

tired. Us making them ? , :min:ihle prayers, they are mad- to l,,n^ f«>r

the happiness ,.; .Sliced to pray to (iod any nior,-. To teaeh them

nevolrnce. they are made to give alms; as if their teachers were ashamed to
give them themselves. It is not the child, hut the te.ich.-r, who should j
And u hat is the child made to give ? Moi: ue to him : or

something which is always made up to him again. Locke's advice i*, so to ar-
range matters that the "children shall observe, for themselves, that \\i<^< \\lio
rlie hest. That is to educate, apparently to generosity, hut in
to avarice.

iily moral instruction proper for children is, to do nothing bad. To this
end they must ho isolated as much as poss'il' the social state, the good

of one is, by necessity, the evil ,.f another.

( Inldreii can not possibly become perverse, mean, false, and greedy, unless
others have sown the seeds of these vices in their hearts.

What a frightful load of sins against children does Rousseau pile
upon the souls of all parents and U*a.-h.-r- IIMT. -1\ to liis

ROUSH.U - I. Mil. I- 33

mistaken doctrine <>f tin; nun .-xi-ten.-e of original sin! After his
soj«hi>tu-:il fashion, he gives his assertion the appearance of truth, by
a>>uming that the teacher proceeds entirely wrongly, or in a most
tJOltt manner.

16. Forming Opinions about Children.

Ri al weakness of intellect is difficult to distinguish from that apparent v .« -ak-
ness which indicates a powerful min.l. The really stupid child is until for any
thing ; the appaivnily so. seems to be. Accordingly, do not form opinions about

children t a> :\ ; let nature operate a long time before you venture to step into

her place. The facility with which children learn is only apparent ; tin \ only re-
tain words which they do not understand.

Very true.

17. Conceptions. Ideas.

Conceptions are only the absolute pictures of natural objects ; ideas are notions
of such objects, determined by their relations. A conception may be entirely
jJone in the mind ; but every id- a supposes other ideas. I'.y e.>n< .-riving, we see;
by ideas, we compare. For mental impressions, we only hold ourselves passive;
while, on th> contrary, our ideas spring from the active originating principle.
the child arrives at his understanding, he receives only impressions, such
as sounds, &c. ; he does not originate ideas in himself, and retain them. 11 >
incapable of judgment, and has no real memory.

18. Words. Learning Language.

The pedagogues teach children words, nothing but words, and no real knowl-
edge.

What has been said I do not believe ; that even one child, such as are called
remarkable children, ever actually learned two languages, before his twelfth or fif-
teenth y.-ar. For each language has its own peculiar spirit, and the thoughts
iak.- th> color of the id

t'ntil the child comes to its understanding, it has only its mother tongn- In
ord.-r to be master of two languages, it must be able to compare ideas.
Kut. it may b,- an-u. i.d. there hav.- 1..-, n children who have spoken fiv.
languages. But how did they s|K-ak them.' the (i.rinan child, tor instance,
speaks (i. rman-l r. nch. n-Italian ; so that, although its words \\

in. its language was.

••Id languages are dead. The imitation of what is found in the Latin

classics, is called speaking Latin. Boys are made to translate French «nto Latin

•nd att< i ward to patch together phrases from Cicero and verses from Vir-

-:!. Th.-n tl>. t -a. -hers think their scholars can speak Latin ; and where are th •

people to contradict th. in .'

The German boy, who speaks Latin, usually says something in
German-Latin, <>r nothing, in Latin verses learned by rote.

Comenius had already zealously opposed the teaching of mere
\\Mi.K without any real basis; the continual employment of scholars
in the world of conceptions, the world of language, without concern-
ing themselves, in the least, with the original things.
19. Geographical Instruction.

In any science, a knowledge of representations, without that of the things re-
presented, is of no value. In the instruction of children, however, such repre-
ss* -illations are adhered to. Thus, in geography, maps are shown, and the names
of countries, places, &o., are taught, \\li.n. t'o'r the child, they only exist on the
• ographical manual began with the questions, " What is the world ?"
An an- or'iven was: "A ball of pasteboard." A tier I wo years of the

usual instruction in ir«'<»£rraphy. a -ehoi.ir emild not, l»y the rules Driven, find his
*ay to St. Denis in Paris ; or find his way in his own father's garden, with a plan.

ROUSSEAU'S EM1LE.

And tnese are the doctors who have knowledge enough about Pekin, Ispahan,
Mexico, and all the countries of the earth.

20. Instruction in History.

Of the historical matters taught, the scholars do not perceive the manner and
eonn.-etion. When Ale.\an<ler drank the medicine of his physician who was ac-
cused of treachery to him, a boy wondered at him, because he could swallow
«!»u n sneh unpleasantly tasting stutV at one draught. So injudiciously has the
matter been managed by the learned.

21. Learning by Rote.

Children should not learn by rote ; not even La Fontaine's fables, which, in
spite of their apparent simplicity, no children understand, or if they do, so much
th" worse.

22. Learning to Read.

Reading is the great misery of children. Entile must, in his twelfth year,
scarcely know what a book is. How many artificial methods have be. n invented
for facilitating learning to read ! The most important means to this end is. that
the teacher awaken an interest in the subject, in his scholars. The less he urges
and forces his pupils toward any object, the more certain will he be to attain it ; and.
while it ia of little constant nee \\lu-ther a boy can read before his fifteenth yt-ar,
he may perhaps be able both to write and read, as early as his tenth.

The anxious and foolish apprehensions of parents, lest their children
shall not learn to read soon enough, seem to be growing in our times,

every year.

23. Education for the Present.

If you follow rules entirely opposed to the usual ones, if you take pains to make
your pupil always collected in mind and attentive to what concerns him, instead
of keeping him forever busy in other climates and other times, even at the ends
of the earth, and even in the heavens, you will find himafterwar-1 titt- <1 to under-
stand, to retain in his memory, and oson ; for such is the course of na-
ture.

Is this life in the present, one after the manner of the ancient
Greeks, or after that of the Caribs ?

24. Bodily Training,

Exercise the body of the pupil in every way. It is a pitiable error to suppose
that this will interfere with that of the mind. Only let the pupil grow up without
being kept in leading-strings and tutor. •; vp ; let him be obliged to act

and advise for himself, and he will exercise mind" and body at the same time. It
is in this manner that free savages exercise their bodies ; and not servile laborers.
Let the pupil combine the understanding of a wise man with the strength of an
athlete !

" Free savages," " athletes," — words worthy of consideration.
25. Rules for the Conduct of the Tutor.

It is a difficult art to manage the pupil without constant orders, and to do every
thing as if one were doing nothing.

A child usually reads the mind of the teacher much more easily than does the
teacher the child's ; so that the child usually has the advantage of the teacher
here.

Govern so that the child shall think itself free, and shall not be stimulated to
search for your weaknesses and watch you.

The caprices of children are mostly the result of a mistaken education ; of their
being permitted to command as they wish, and being obeyed.

Truths which Rousseau seems to have taken from his own experi-
ence ; for he was a tutor.

26. The Body a Medium for Educating the Mind. Hardening.
What tin- human re« - thnaurh the senses, the senses are the

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE. 35

basis of the intellectual ; our feet, our hands, our eyes, first teach us philosophy.
For this reason we must train the members and senses as the instruments of our
intellect, and for this rejison the body must be sound and strong. < iyiimastie.s
gave to the ancients that strength of body, in which they so remarkably -v.il, <i
the moderns.

Loose clothing should be given children, in which they may feel free and at
ease. Even in winter they should wear summer clothing ; they should have no
covering for the head, and should drink cold water even when they are hot. —
They should not sleep in a soft bed. It is more important to be able to swim than
tn rid ••.

Rousseau praises Locke's method of hardening children's bodies,
except that he rejects his cautions against drinking and lying on the
damp ground, when the child is hot. His hatred of French effemi-
nacy, and his admiration of the Carib mode of hardening the body,
make him push every thing to exaggeration.

27. Education of the Senses. Feeling.

The senses develop them*. ]v. s .-arliest in children; and therefore the attention
should be first turned toward completing that development. But this is what
most persons forget or neglect. Train not only the active powers of children, but
all the senses which regulate those powers. Benefit each sense as much as pos-
sible ; and prove tin- impi-«>sion made upon one sense by that upon another. Let
the pupil measure, count, weigh, and compare. The Mind have the most acute
touch ; seeing children could cultivate the same by practice and plays in the dark ;
by which those fears which the activity of the imagination occasions in the dark,
would be removed.

The tips of the fingers should be fine skinned and susceptible ; many things
can be known more clearly and certainly by the touch than by the eye. On the
contrary the soles of the feet should be hardened by going barefoot.

Rousseau is quite right in laying stress upon the training of the
senses. But he does it in such a manner that he seems to be show-
ing how to train a Carib child for the exact sciences of the French,
or a French child for the life of a savage. Nothing is said of the edu-
cation of the eyes for the beautiful ; as nothing is said anywhere of
the beautiful, but only of the u>oful.

28. Sef.ing. Drawing and Geometry.

The vision often errs by reason of its wide field of operations and the multitude
of objects which it embraces ; whieh render it liable to hasty judgments. The
illusions of perspective are indispensable for the measurement of distances ; without
the gradations of size and light, we could measure no distances, or rather there
would be none to us. If a large tree one hundred paces distant, seemed as large
and distinct as another only ten paces distant, it would appear to us that they
stood together. If two objects appeared to us of their actual size, we should have
no knowledge of places.

The size of the angle at the eye, at which we see objects, is determined by their
size and distance. But how shall we distinguish, when one object appears small-
er to us than another, whether this is by reason of its real size, or of its greater
distance ?

Children must be practiced in estimating sizes and distances, as architects, field
surv.-yors. Are., are. Without feeling, without movement, with measuring, the
best of eyes can L'ive us no idea of room. For the oyster, the universe is a point.
With this exercise of children in estimating distances, is connected drawing,,
which depends entirely upon the laws of perspective. They should not however
[>ies, but should draw from nature; and in this it is of more importance
that th^y see and understand coneetly, than that they should draw artistically.

Geometry, like drawing, is for children an exercise of the eye, based upon see-

36 ROUSSEAU'S EM1LE.

ing. Make correct figures, put them together, place one upon the other, aua
prove their relations. By proceeding from observation to observation, you will go
on through the whole of elementary geometry, without seeing any thing of defini-
tions or problems, or of any other form of demonstration, except that of superim-
position.

Correctness in diagrams is usually neglected ; the figure is shown, and the
demonstration given. But it would be of much more value to draw linfei as
straight, correct, and similar as possible, and squares and circles as true as possible.

In Turin, they gave a boy cakes of the same size, but of the most various shapes ;
he tried every possible means to determine which form held the most. ' ,

Children's plays should exercise their eyes, and all their members. How much
can be accomplished in this direction is shown by the feats of rope-dancers. Is
there any children's diversion which the instructor can not make instructive to
them?

What Rousseau here says of teaching geometry is worthy of spe-
cial consideration. From real pure geometrical drawings there are de-
veloped true and pure geometrical ideas.

29. Hearing. Speaking and Singing.

The child should compare such impressions on the sight and hearing as belong
together ; as, for instance, that the lightning is seen before the thundar is heard.
The voice, as an active organ, corresponds with the passive one of the hearing;
and they assist each other.

The pupil should speak in a plain manner. He should not be permitted to de-
claim ; he should have too much sound sense to express, with tones and feelings
which he has not, things which he does not understand. Teach him to speak dis-
tinctly, without hesitation, without affectation, and loud enough to be understood ;
teach him to sing correctly and in tune, but no operatic music ; train his ear for
time and harmony.

Rousseau's musical faculty made him forget his Iroquois ideal ; and
he does not ask the question, what is the use of music ?

30. The Taste.

In the beginning, that nourishment was most healthful for simple men which
tasted best. In children this primitive taste should be preserved as much as pos-
sible ; their food should be common and simple, not high seasoned ; flesh is im-
proper for them. Of the proper food they should be permitted to eat as much as
they wish. Eating is the passion of children. Therefore they should be managed
iby means of their palate ; this natural and appropriate motive is far prefer-
able to those of vanity. Love of eating will decrease and vanity will increase with
years.

31. The Smell.

This is related to the taste, as sight is to feeling. In children it is not very ao
live.

32. The Common Sense. Formation of Ideas.*

A sixth sense comes from a proper employment of the other senses; namely :
*' the common sense." This is resident in the brain ; and its sensations are called
perceptions, or ideas. (?) The number of5 these ideas indicates the extent of our
knowledge ; and the power of comparing them with each other is called human
reason. The sensitive, or child's reason, forms simple ideas, by bringing together
several impressions upon the senses ; the intellectual reason forms compound ideas
from several simple ones.

33. Character of Emile, at Twelve Years Old.

His exterior indicates self-possession and ease ; he speaks with simplicity, and
.does not talk unnecessarily. His ideas are confined and clear; he knows nothing
.by rote, but much by experience. If he does not read so well in books, he reads

* Sec. 17, 42.

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE. 37

better in the book of nature ; he has less memory than power of judgment; he
speaks but one language, but understands what he says. If he does not speak so
well as others, he is much more capable of doing. He knows nothing of routine,
custom, or habit ; and what he did yesterday does not indicate what he will do to-
day. Neither authority nor example impose upon him 5 he does and says only
what seems good to him. He knows nothing of study, speech, or manners ; but
his language corresponds with his ideas, and his behavior arises from his wishes.

He has few moral ideas, but they are such as correspond to his age. Speak to-
him of duty or obedience, he does not know what you mean ; order him, he doe»
not understand you ; but say to him, if you will do this to please me, I will some-
time do something to please you, and he will instantly exert himself to comply
with your wish ; for nothing will please him more than to add to his legitimate
influence over you, which he holds inviolable.

If he needs help himself, he makes use of the first that comes to hand, whether
it be a king or a servant ; for all men are alike to his sight. He shows to him.
whom he asks, that he does not consider any one bound to grant his request.
He is simple and laconic in his expressions, and neither servile nor arrogant.
Grant his request, and he does not thank you, but feels that he is your debtor •,
refuse it, and he does not complain nor urge you, but lets the matter drop.

Lively, active, he undertakes nothing too great for his powers, but which he
has tried and understands. He has an observing and intelligent eye ; and asks no
useless questions about what he sees, but examines it himself. As his imagination
is yet inactive, and nothing has been done to stimulate it, he sees only what really
exists, does not over-estimate danger, and is always cool.

Business and play are the same to him, his play is his business ; he finds no
difference between them. Among city children, there is none more dexterous
than he, and all are weaker; he is equal to country children in strength, and
surpasses them in dexterity. He is fit to lead his companions, by -his talent and
experience, without any other authority, without wishing to command ; he is at the
head of the rest, and they obey him without knowing it.

He is a mature child, and has lived a child's life ; his happiness has not been
exchanged for his education. If he dies young, his death is to be mourned, but
not his life.

Ordinary men would not understand a boy so trained ; they would see in him
nothing but a scapegrace. A teacher could make no parade with him, could ask
him no show questions ; and those are the chief of the education of the day.

A healthy, strong, dexterous, corporeally well-trained boy, systematic-
ally educated, for a purely earthly existence, and for cold independ-
ence ; a Frenchified Carib, or Caribized French boy, without fancy,
poetry, love, or God.

THIRD BOOK. EMILE, FROM HIB TWELFTH TO HIS FIFTEENTH YEAR.
34. Desire of Knowledge. Methods. Regard for Authority.

Curiosity will now begin to operate, and will henceforth stimulate the boy.
With natural curiosity is connected the vain endeavor to appear learned. Im-
pressions upon the senses must be developed into ideas ; only, we should not pass
too suddenly from material to intellectual objects. The world and things in books
must be the teachers ; mere words should not be learned.

The pupil knows nothing because you have said it to him, but because he has
comprehended it ; he does not learn his acquirements ; he discovers them. If
once you give him authority, instead of reason, he will no longer think for him-
self, but wi'll be the sport of strange opinions.

One extreme introduces another. Because earlier, ignorant, and
harsh teachers treated boys like empty vessels, which they were to fill
up with Latin vocables, geometrical demonstrations, &c., therefore,
according to Rousseau, now they must find out every thing for them
selves ; because earlier tyrannical teachers based every thing on author-

38 ROUSSEAU'S EMLLE.

ity maintained by force, now all at once there is to be no authority
at all. From the pedagogical age of Louis XIV., we are to be trans-
ferred at once into the age of the revolution.

Woe to the boy to whom no authority is sacred ; who is destitute
of all reverence and love toward his parents and teachers.
35. Rudiments of Astronomy.

A beautiful sunrise. - The teacher is in an ecstacy ; but the boy of thirteen is
not yet ready to take pleasure in a beautiful spring morning. It would be foolish
for the teacher to take pains to talk the pupil into his own enthusiasm.

No writings are proper for a boy, no eloquence or poetry ; he has no business
with feeling or taste. Be to him clear, simple, and cold ; direct his attention to
the places of the rising and the setting of the sun, and let him wonder how it gets
back from the west to the east. The observation that it passes from the east to
west every day will suggest an answer. Again, draw his attention to the change
of the place of sunrise and sunset at different seasons of the year. All this must
be done without any armillary sphere ; its circles confuse the pupil.

Either, according to Rousseau, we must boil over with pseudo-
poetry, at a beautiful sunrise, or — as he recommends before the boy of
twelve — freeze with astronomical observations. Is there no medium ?
36. Rudiments of Geography and Physics. Methods.

Geographical instruction should begin with the house and place of abode. The
pupil should draw maps of the neighborhood, to learn how they are made, and
what they show.

It is of less importance to teach the boy sciences, than to give him a taste for
them, and methods for learning them when that taste shall have been more de-
veloped. At this age, also, he should be taught to follow up one subject with
persevering attention, but yet not to weariness. If he asks questions for his own
information, answer him just so much as is necessary, in order to stimulate his
curiosity ; but do not let him weary you with endless silly questions. Philosophy
developes the sciences from their principles ; but instruction does not. In this,
each subject explains and introduces another, and thus curiosity keeps alive the
attention.

If the pupil has found out the noon-mark, by a shadow, and drawn it, show
him that the compass will give him the same line.

Instruction in physics should begin with the simplest experiments, not with
instruments. These must follow after such experiments ; and, though ever so
imperfect, should be constructed by the teacher and the pupil, themselves. By
such independent efforts are attained ideas of greater clearness and certainty.

The numerous instruments which have been invented to guide us in experiments,
and to make up for the defective accuracy of the senses, are the reason why the
senses are less used. The more perfect our tools are, the more blunt and in-
efficient will our organs become.

Purely speculative knowledge is not for children ; not even when they approach
the age of youth. Yet it must be contrived that their experiments shall form a
chain, by the aid of which they may be better retained in the memory ; for facts
and demonstrations entirely isolated do not remain there.

In investigating nature's laws, begin always with thp more common and obvious
phenomenon.

This is a most valuable observation upon elementary instruction in
the natural sciences. Comenius already, and Pestalozzi afterward,
commenced the study of Geography with the immediate neighborhood.
Any bright boy will, however, make himself acquainted with it, if he
is permitted, without taking wearisome topographical walks with his

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE. 39

teacher. Nothing should be taught which the boy will freely learn
himself, without any assistance. Rousseau's tutor, always teaching
the boys something in every trip, and even in every game, would
necessarily become intolerable to them.

37. No Authority.

The boy should do nothing at the word ; nothing is good to him except what
he himself recognizes &s good. By your wisdom you rob him of his mother- wit ;
he becomes accustomed always to be led, and to be only a machine in the hands
of others. To require obedience of the child, means to require that, when grown
up, he shall be credulous ; shall be made a fool of. It is of no use to say to the boy
that he is ordered for his own good, and that, when he is grown up, he will see it.
To do so is to play into the hands of every visionary charlatan and impostor, who
shall in after life desire to entangle the boy in his nets.*

38. Against premature Learning. " What is the Use ?"
The child should learn what is necessary for his own age ; and not, premature-
ly, what will be necessary in after years. But, you say, can what is necessary be
learned, at the moment when it is to be applied ? I answer, I know not ; but this
I know, that it can not be learned before ; for our real teachers are experience and
feeling ; we only learn what is right in the experiences of actual life. When we
have given the pupil the idea of usefulness, we have thus a new mode of guiding
him ; he sees that this word is related to his present well-being. " What is the
use of it?" is the sacred question, the word which must decide every thing be-
tween the teacher and the scholar ; it is the question with which the former can
answer the host of useless questions of the latter, and which he again can, upon
occasion, put to the teacher.

There are harmful anticipations in learning, but there are also
necessary ones. Seeds may be planted in the child's mind which
shall sleep for years as if dead, but which shall spring into life at the
right moment. Old men encourage themselves, in the hour of death,
with verses from the funeral hymns which they learned when chil-
dren.

39. Strengthening the Weak. Laconicism. Vanity as a, Motive.

Who is the teacher who can confess to the scholar that he has erred ? If the
teacher has no answer at hand to the scholar's question, he should say so without
more ado.

Above all, avoid tedious explanations, which are often made by teachers, only
with a view to show themselves off to visitors who may be present.

Adhere to facts. We lay too much stress upon words ; and our talking educa-
tion trains up talkers. A boy who is lost will find out better how to set himself
right by the sun, than he would by a long demonstration. Wherever possible,
teach by things themselves.

What the boy learns only through an appeal to his vanity, he had better not
learn at all.

Very true.

40. Books. Robinson Crusoe. Workshops.

From books men learn to talk about what they do not understand. But there
is one book which may be considered as a most valuable treatise upon natural educa-
tion ; a book which might, for a long time, constitute the entire library of the pu-
pil ; namely, Robinson Crusoe. Robinson, alone upon an island, obliged himself
to make every thing necessary to him, becomes the boy's ideal ; he will ask only
for what would be necessary for him upon a Robinson's island.

The teacher should frequent workshops, with his pupil, and should permit him
to take hold of the work himself ; and by this means he will learn to understand

• See 34.

10 ROUSSEAU'S EMILE.

them better th;in by many explanations, lie will learn at tin- saint- time to value-
more highly really useful artisans, than the so-called artists, who are so much
esteemed by the world. He will esteem more highly a locksmith than a gold-
smith; engravers and gilders will be, in his eyes, only idlers, busy in us.-l.-ss
amus, -ments ; even watehmakers will be of small aeeount with him. He will re-
speet all human labor, and in like manner all produetions of nature, in proportion
as they Contribute more to his necessities, his knowledge, and his comfort. Ik-
will value iron more highly than gold, glass than diamonds.

It is not meant that the pupil should beeome aet|uaintetl with everv trade, but
only that he should know the most necessary ones, and their COIIIH etion with eaeh
other.

Here it appears more clearly what Rousseau means by his ques-
tion, What is the use ? He barbarously only values what is necessary
for human subsistence, to a life as nearly as possible to that of a beast.
Watchmakers would be of but little account with him ; he does not
even mention the higher arts, the fine arts, so useless do they seem
to him.

11. Equality. Revolution. Learning and Trade.

Your education of men should be adapted to what they are in themselves; not
to any thing external. By training him exclusively for one condition, you make
him until for any other, and unfortunate, if his situation should ever change.
How ridiculous is a great lord who has become a beggar, and who holds in his
•« the prejudices of his birth; how contemptible the rieh man become
poor, who fools himself completely degraded!

You acquiesce in the social order of the present, without considering that this
order is subject to unavoidable changes ; and that it is impossible for you to fore-
see or to prevent the revolution which may come upon your children. The great
will become small, the rich poor, the monarch a subject. We are approaching a
crisis; the e.-ntury of revolutions. It is impossible that the great m«na].
Europe can last long. And who can say what shall then happen to you? What
men have made, men can destroy; only the character given by nature is in«l« -s-
tructible; and nature makes neither princes, nor rich men, nor great lords. What
will the satrap do in his debasement, who has been educated only for his high po-
sition ? What will the farmer- general do. in his [Miverty, who lives only UJMHI his
money ? Happy will he be, then, who shall understand how to leave the condition
which has left him, and to remain a man in spite of fate. The cultivation of the
earth is the best of all employments ; yet. when evil times come, the artisan is
more independent. Make your son, therefore, learn some respectable trade, the
carpenter's for example. This will also serve to cure him of the prejudices
against trades. Only beware of nourishing one vanity while you are exerting
yourself to oppose another.

The great secret of education is, to manage it so that the training of the mind
and body shall serve to assist each other.

Here Rousseau foretells the revolution almost thirty years before its
coming. As a great architect outlines the church whose form stands
before his mind, before even the corner-stone is laid, so the great
master of destruction draws the picture of horrors and dissolution
before the soul, before the multitude taught by him put hand to the
work.

42. Impressions upon the Senses. Ideas. Opinions*

Aft.-r the body and senses of the pupil have first been educated, we should
tram his understanding and his judgment. lastly, we should teach him to u<e
bis brains in the service of his faculties. \V, have made of him an acting, think-

* Comp. 32. 17.

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE. 41

ing being; to make him a complete man, we must make him also a living and
feeling being, that is, \\. must supplement reason with his feelings.

As at first the pupil has only sensations, so now he has ideas and forms judg-
m.-nts. By the comparison of several of these, following each other all at the
same time, and by a judgment upon them, there results a sort of compound im-
pi'i ssi.ms which 1 eall ideas. In simple impressions upon the senses, the judg-
ment is merely passive ; it only makes certain of the actuality of the sensations ;
in |>< •iv.'ptioii. or the idea, it is active, placing together, comparing and determin-
ing relations which the senses do not determine.

The judgment leads to error, particularly in the case of learned men, whose
vain til-sire to shine by giving opinions outruns their knowledge. Ignorance,
wh'ch says " What have I to do with it?" is the only safety from error. Thus
speak savages and wise men. Our pupil must not speak so; lie is a savage, but
destined to live in cities.

We learn best to judge by laboring to simplify our experience, and, having
acquired experience, by seeking rather to avoid error than a positive knowledge
of the truth ; and by rather confessing ignorance, than by endeavoring to explain
any thing insufficiently.

43. Emilc in his Fifteenth Year.

Being obliged to learn by means of himself, he uses his own understandingr
not that of other men ; and yields nothing to authority. For most of our errors
come less from ourselves than from others. By this continual practice, his mind
has acquired a strength like that which is given to the body by labor and hard-
ship. For the same reason his powers develop themselves only in proportion to-
his growth. He remembers only what has commended itself to his understand-
ing. Thus he has little knowledge, but no half-knowledge. He knows that his
knowledge is not i;r«-at ; his mind is open, decided, and, if not instructed, at least
capable of instruction. Of all that he does he knows the use, and of all he be-
lii-vt-s, the reason. He proceeds slowly, but thoroughly. He possesses only
natural knowledge ; none of history, and none of mathematics and ethics. He
knows little of generalizing and forming abstractions ; he observes properties
common to many bodies, without reasoning upon the existence of these properties.
What is strange to him he values only by its relations to himself, but this valua-
tion is sufficient and certain. What is most useful to him he values most, and-
cares nothing for opinion.

Emile is laborious, moderate, patient, persevering, and courageous. His thn< y,
not heated in any way, never magnifies danger ; he can endure sorrow with forti-
tude, for he has not been trained to oppose himself to fate. What death is, he
does not rightly know, but, being a accustomed to submit without resistance to the
laws of necessity, he will die, when he must, without sighing and without pre-
tense. Nature does not require more of us, in that moment, so abhbrred by all.
To live free, to set the heart as little as possible upon human things, is the surest
means of learning to di< -.

Emile is destitute of the social virtues. He acts without respect to others ; and
it is right in his eyes that others should have no regard to him. He makes DO
demands upon others, he thinks himself under no obligation to any one. Stand-
ing alone in society, he counts only upon himself, and is capable of more than
others at his age. He has no errors or vices, except such as are unavoidable.
His body is healthy, his members are disciplined, his understanding correct and
without prejudices, his heart free and without passions. Self-esteem, first and
most natural of all the passions, has scarcely awakened in him. Without des-
troying the peace of any one, he has lived as peacefully, happily, and freely a*
nature will permit. Do you find that the child, thus educated to his fifteenth
year, has wasted his earliest years?

Rousseau asks this question as if he were sure of his answer.
What I have already said of Emile at twelve is still truer of him at
fifteen. We freeze at the character of the cold boy, who has by the
skill of his tutor been brought to such an independence that he ask&
neither about God or man, feels no need of love, has no feeling for

42 ROUSSEAU'S EMILE.

poetry. A superficial understanding of the material world, and the
bodily activity of a savage, are the highest of his attainments. A
real ethical idea is out of the question, where love, the heart of all
the virtues, is wanting. Only the earthly being is considered ; death
brings this pedagogical masterpiece to an end ; and Emile endures
this with the resignation of a wild beast.

FOURTH BOOK. EMILE FROM HIS FIFTEENTH YEAR TO HIS MARRIAGE.
44. Puberty. Selfishness. Self-esteem. Innocence.

The age of puberty now comes, and with it spring up passions whose source
is selfishness. This impels every one to care for his own profit. What is useful
to us we seek for that reason ; what desires to serve us, we love ; what hurts us
we flee from ; and what seeks to harm us, we hate. A child is benevolent at
first, because all who are around him wait on him. But, as the circle of his ac-
quaintance enlarges, the feeling of his relations to others grows up, he compares
himself with them, and his selfishness changes into self-esteem, which lifts him
above others, and requires them to hold him higher than themselves. Heat
and anger spring from self-esteem. It is true that children, since they can
never live alone, can live together only with difficulty. From selfishness, changed
into self-esteem, comes, in simple souls, vanity, and in great ones, pride; which
spring in the hearts of children only by our fault, and in our pupils even against
our will.

The age of puberty is unnaturally hastened ; it should be delayed as long as
possible. In regard to the relations of the sexes, lies should not be told to chil-
dren, but care should be taken not to awaken their curiosity upon such subjects;
silence should be observed in regard to them ; but what can not be hidden from
them should be told them.

A child who is not born with a bad nature, and who has kept his innocence to
his twentieth year, is at this age the most magnanimous, best, most loving and lov-
able of men. If you have never heard of this, I can easily believe it ; your phi-
losophers, bred up in the deepest depravity of the schools, could not know it.

Emile is now coining into the years when increasing freedom de-
velopes his sinful tendencies more freely ; and the fig leaves of Rous-
seau's sophistry are less and less able to cover them. Still he ad-
heres to his principle, that every thing wicked comes, not from the
heart, but into the head from others.

45. Happiness. Love. Sympathy. Gratitude.

There now follow directions for ethical education ; for example, the
pupil is to be taught not to take apparent happiness for real and de-
sirable happiness, and not phrases of hypocritical pretenses of love
and sympathy, but to exercise real sympathy. Ingratitude is not
natural to men, but is caused by such benefactors as seek their own
advantage.

46. Knowledge of Men.

As self-esteem grows in Emile, he compares himself with his equals and en-
deavors to hold the highest place among thorn. Now is the time to instruct him
in the social relations, and in the natural and civic inequality of men. He should
know men in and under the masks of society, should mourn over them, but not
learn to aid them. Emile knows that men are by nature good, but understands
that they have become bad and depraved by means of society ; in their prejudices
he sees the source of all their vices ; and feels himself impelled to value each
single one of them, but to despise them collectively.

ROUSSEAU'S EMILE. 40

47. The Study of History.

It is now time to introduce Emile to history. Unfortunately, historical writers
relate only bad things, and the good remain unknown ; they misrepresent facts,
•do not follow the connection of cause and effect, and give their own judgments
instead of leaving this to the reader. Away with the modern historians ! Their
works have no character ; and they look upon all the men of the present day as
exactly alike. Especially useless are the systematic historians • who will not see
things as they are, but only as they fit into their system. Others exhibit men
only as they appear in the state; and not at all as they appear at home. Of all
the ancient historians, Plutarch is far the best for youth, in particular because he
does not despise relating the apparently trifling traits of eminent men.

48. Emile upon the Theatre of the World. Presumption.
Emile now for the first time appears upon the theatre of the world 5 or rather
he stands behind the scenes, sees the players dress and undress themselves; and
by what coarse means the spectators are deceived. It will elevate him to see
how the human race makes sport of itself. Educated in entire freedom, he will
sorrow over the misery of kings, those slaves of all those who obey them ; false
wise men, in the chains of their vain honors; rich fools, the martyrs to their own
luxury. He will be in danger of thinking himself wise, and all others fools ; and
only mortifying experience can protect him from such vanity.

Pedagogy disappears more and more. The natural man, Emile,
turns into the revolutionary misanthrope ; he is Rousseau himself, un-
der the name of Emile.

49. Emile a Natural Man.

I shall be thought a visionary, and Emile a phantasy, because he is so different
from ordinary youths. It is overlooked that he is a natural man, but that other
youths are brought up according to the notions of men.

Others, at Emile's age, are already philosophers and theologians ; while he
does not know yet what philosophy is, and even has not yet heard God spoken of.

I am no visionary ; my pedagogy is based upon experience ; since without
regard to rank, nation, &c., I have found what is proper to all men, and have
educated Emile according to that; not as a savage for the woods, but as a man
who will have to maintain himself independent in the whirlpool of society.

50. Religious Instruction.

We are brought up in close connection with the natural world; and for the
abstract, the purely intellectual, we have scarcely any comprehension. God with-
draws our senses from themselves; the word mind has a meaning only for the
philosophers. Monotheism has come, by a process of generalization, from ma-
terial polytheism.

In his fifteenth year, Emile does not yet know that he has a soul ; and perhaps
he will find it out too early in his eighteenth.

After this follows an argument against catechetical instruction.
The faith of children and of many grown persons is a matter of
geography ; it depends merely upon whether they were born in Rome
or in Mecca. Does salvation depend upon that ?

A child, it is said, must be brought up in the religion of his father ; and he
must be taught that this alone is true ; and that others are absurd. But if the
power of this instruction extends only so far as the country in which it is given,
and depends only upon authority, for which Emile has been taught to have no
regard, what then? In what religion shall we educate him? To this there is
only the simple answer, in none; we will only put him in a condition to choose
for himself, that to which the best use of his own reason may bring him.

44 ROUSSEAU'S EMILE.

In this connection, we will introduce an extract from one of the
numerous episodes with which the book abounds, that of the Profes-
sion of Faith of a Savoyard Curate, in which a comparison is made
between Christ and Socrates : —

I confess to you that the majesty of the whole Scriptures puts me in astonish-
ment. The sanctity of Gospel speaks to my heart. By its side, how little do
the books of the philosophers appear, with all tlu-ir magnificence! And is it
possible that a book at once so lofty ami simple- ean be the work of man? Is it
possible that he, whose history is contained in it. was only a man ? Are his words
those of an enthusiast, or of the ambitious founder of a sect? What mildness,
what purity in his morals! What elevation in his maxims! What profound
wisdom in his language ! What presence of mind, acuteness. and pertinence in his
answers! What command of his passions! Where shall we find a man, a wise
man even, who has known how to act, to suffer, ami to die, without weaki
ostentation.' When Plato paints his ideal of an upright man, who is eovered with
all th« shame of guilt, and who deserves praise for every virtue, he draws Jesus.
Christ, line for line : the similarity is so striking that all the fathers of the church
have observed it What prejudice, what blindness is it to compare the son of
Sophroniscus with the son off Mary! How wide a difference is there between
them! Socrates, dying without pain, without disgrace, bore his part, without
difficulty, to his death ; and if this easy death had not given honor to his life, we
might doubt whether, with all his intellect, he was any thing more than a sophist.
It is said that hi* founded morals. Others had practiced morals, and his teachings,
were based upon their examples. Aristides was just before Socrates defined
: Leonidas died for his country, before Socrates defined patriotism to be a
duty. IJefoiv he defined virtu-, (ir-cce had had a multitude of virtuous men.
But where had Jesus found, among his own people, that lofty and pure morality
which he alone practiced and taught ? From the bosom of the most raging fanati-
cism was this highest of all wisdom developed ; and the simplicity of the most
heroic virtue reflected honor upon the m..>t despised of all nations. The death of
Socrates, who died peacefully philosophizing among his friends, is the easiest
which could be desired; but that of Christ, in tortures, reviled, despised, accursed
by a whole people, is the most terrible and fearful. Socrates, as he look the rup
of poison, blessed the weeping man who handed it to him ; Jesus, amidst t In-
most horrible torture's, prayed for his enraged and hostile executioners. If the
life and death of Socrates were those of a wise man, the life ancT death of Christ
were those of a God. Shall we say that the history of evangelists is an arbitrary
invention ? No, it is not so ; the actions of Socrates, of which no one doubts,
are less authentic than those of Christ.

If this extract were to be taken, apart from its connection, it could
only be believed that one who loved and reverenced Christ from his
heart, could lm\v written it. But before and after this passage stands
the most wanton mockery of Christianity, — the very passages which
subjected him and his book to the condemnation of the Parliament
of Paris, which, on the 9th of June, 1762, sentenced the book to be
torn to pieces and burned, the author to be imprisoned, and his
property to be confiscated. The same fate awaited it in Geneva.

In his fifth book, he describes Sophie, as the model of a maiden.
The tutor contrives the marriage of Emile and Sophie. When Einile
becomes a father, he dismisses the tutor with the words, " God forbid
that I should permit you to educate my son after you have educated
his father ; that a duty so holy and sweet should be performed 'bv
any other than myself."

KOUrWBAlTS EMII.E 45

Locke says, in his pedagogical work, " When my pupil is at an age
to marry, it is time to leave him to himself." "As for me," says
Rousseau, "I should beware how I imitated Locke in this." So
Einile is unnaturally betutored until he becomes a father. The mar-
riage thus planned and brought about by the tutor has a miserable
end. Sophie is untrue to Emile, who gives himself up to despair, and
at last falls into slavery in Algiers.*

According to Locke's recommendation I break off here, and the
more willingly as the digressions become more and more numerous
in the fourth book even, and the pedagogical design is more and
more lost sight of.f

The sketch which I have given of Emile will be made clearer by
regarding it as a book at once instructive and corrupting. Sur-
rounded by civilization, overwhelmed with corruption, the misanthrope
fell upon many instructive notions, by merely reversing what was
generally received. But hate will not bring truth into existence, even
from the basis of the deepest degradation of a people. It is only love
which can do this ; it is love alone which can cure it. Rousseau is
corrupting, because he mingles truth and falsehood, good and evil, in
the most cunning manner; so that good and bad are to be dis-
tinguished only by an exceedingly watchful and critical reader. I
close with repeating my wish, that the preceding sketch, and the
subjoined remarks, may assist the reader in such a critical separation.
ROUSSEAU AND FEBTALOZZI.

A comparison between the two men repeatedly suggests itself.
How noble, pure, and true is PestalozzPs letterj to Anna Schulthess,
and how completely is it the opposite of Rousseau's understanding
with Therese Levasseur !

In 1819, I published a dialogue entitled "The Progressives," (Die
>r.) This also ended with a comparison of the French Swiss
and the German Swiss.

One of the speakers in this says : " Do not take me for so bigoted
an admirer and repeater of Rousseau, as to have hoped for every
tiling good from him. Nothing is further from the truth. I can not,
however, but wonder at him, when I compare him with his French
and European cotemporaries, to observe how in him the force of na-
ture, which had been choked by an elaborately unnatural system,
burst forth, ami awakened the degraded conscience of the day. In

*In a fragment entitled '-Emile et Sophie on lea solitaires," this is related by Rousseau,
who intends thus to show how a man educated upon his principles will remain unconquered
in rhe most miserable condition.

1 There are, however, some valuable remarks in this book ; as upon the chastity of the
Bible language, and unchastity of French ; upon the extravagant life of power, vanity, Ac.

I Life of Pestalozzi. Am. Jour, of Ed. Vol. III., p 407.

46 ROUSSEAU'S EMILE.

him, that age confessed itself; as a worn out and repentant harlot
washes off her paint, lays aside her false hair, and shudderingly looks
upon her naked hideousness in the glass. In full consciousness of
his errors and sins, he stands burdened with the curse of the ager
and powerless to renew his life in freshness and holiness."

From the blinding fiery column of the French volcano, which
served the German mariners as a beacon, but devastated its own
country, we gladly turn to the mild star which rose over Germany,
of Pestalozzi. Despairing misanthropy inspired Rousseau, and, in
truth, such an age, and in such circumstances, he was little blamable
for it. His leading idea was, that if he rejected every thing received
by his age, and adopted its opposite, he would reach the truth. And
so evil were the times, that, by following this malevolent impulse, he
produced many excellent ideas.

Pestalozzi, however, was inspired by love of humanity, and by a
desire to benefit the poor ; not by a war with the rich, but by educa-
ting them. And, although he unostentatiously turned away from the
overrefinement of his age, and, in evangelical imitation of Christ,
went to the neglected poor, yet God blessed the purity of his aspira-
tions, and granted him more than he asked ; the joyful expectation
of a great future, and to plant, by his writings and his wisdom, the
of never-ending development.

§

p

w

mm

THE LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

BY GAEL VON RAUMER,*

JOHN HENRF PESTALOZZI was born at Zurich on the 12th of Jan-
uary, 1746. His father was a medical practitioner; his mother,
whose maiden name was Hotze, was a native of Wadenschwyl on
the Lake of Zurich, and first cousin to the Austrian general Hotze,
who fell at Schannis in 1799.

The father died prematurely, when Pestalozzi was only six years
old ; from this time forward, therefore, " every thing was wanting, in
the influences around him, which a manly education of the facul-
ties so urgently requires at that age." " I was brought up," he re-
lates, " by the hand of the best of mothers like a spoilt darling, such
that you will not easily find a greater. From one year to another I
never left the domestic hearth ; in short, all the essential means and
inducements to the development of manly vigor, manly experience,
manly ways of thinking, and manly exercises, were just as much
wanting to me, as, from the peculiarity and weakness of my temper-
ament, I especially needed them."

This peculiarity, according to Pestalozzi's own statement, was, that
with the most sensitive feelings and the liveliest imagination, he was
deficient in the power of sustained attention, in reflection, circum-
spection, and foresight.

His mother devoted herself wholly to the education of her three
children, in which she was assisted by a faithful servant girl from the
country, of the name of Babeli. Pestalozzi's father, on his death-
bed, sent for this girl. "Babeli," said he, "for the sake of God and
inc.Mw, do not leave my wife; when I am dead, she will be forlorn,
and my children will fall into strange and cruel hands." " I will not
leave your wife when you die," replied Babeli ; "I will remain with
her till death, if she has need of me." Her words pacified the dying
father; she kept her promise, and remained till her death with the

* Iu this article we follow literally, but with occasional abridgments, the translation of
Prof. J. Tilleard. originally published in the Educational Expositor for 18"vM. and afterward
co.iected in a volume of 80 pages, by Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans; London .

50 11FE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ1.

mother. " Her great fidelity," Festalozzi says, " was the result of
her strong, simple, and pious faith." As the mother was in very
straitened circumstances, Babeli economized wherever she could ; she
even restrained the children when they wanted to go into the street,
or to any place where they had no business to go, with the words,,
" why will you needlessly wear out your shoes and clothes ? See
how much your mother denies herself, in order to be able to give
you an education ; how for weeks and months together she never
goes out any where, but saves every farthing for your schooling.'^
Nevertheless, the mother was liberal in those expenses which respect
ability requires, nor did she let the children be without handsome
Sunday clothes. These, however, they were allowed to wear but
seldom, and they had to take them off again as soon as they came
home.

"I saw the world," says Pestalozzi, "only within the narrow limits
of my mother's parlor, and within the equally narrow limits of my
school-room ; to real human life I was almost as great a stranger, as
if I did not live in the world in which I dwelt."

Pestalozzi's grandfather on the mother's side was minister at Hongg,,
a village three miles from Zurich. With him Pestalozzi spent several
months every year, from the time when he was nine years old. The
old man conscientiously cared for the souls of his flock, and thereby
exercised a great influence upon the village school; his piety made
a deep and lasting impression on his grandson.

Of his early school days, Pestalozzi relates the following : —

"In all boys' games, I was the most clumsy and helpless among
all my school fellows, and nevertheless, in a certain way, I always
wanted to excel the others. This caused some of them very fre-
quently to pass their jokes upon me. One of them gave me the
nickname l Harry Whimsical of Foolstown.' Most of them, however,
liked my good natured and obliging disposition; though they knew
my general clumsiness and awkwardness, as well as my carelessness
and thoughtlessness in everything that did not particularly interest
me.

"Accordingly, although one of the best pupils, I nevertheless-
' committed, with incomprehensible thoughtlessness, faults of which
not even the worst of them was ever guilty. While I generally
seized with quickness and accuracy upon the essential matter of the
subjects of instruction, I was generally very indifferent and thought-
less as to the forms in which it was given. At the same time that
I was far behind my fellow scholars in some parts of a subject, in
other parts of the same subject I often surpassed them in an unusual.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. £j

degree. This is so true, that once, when one of my professors, who
had a very good knowledge of Greek, but not the least eloquence of
tyle, translated and published some orations of Demosthenes, I had
the boldness, with the limited school rudiments which I then possessed,
to translate one of these orations myself, and to give it in, at the
examination, as a specimen of my progress in this branch of study.
A portion of this translation was printed in the Linden Journal, in
connection with an article entitled 'Agis.' Just in the same manner
as I made incomparably more progress in certain parts of my subjects
of instruction than in others, so generally it was of far more import-
ance to me to be sensibly affected by, (I dare not say to understand
thoroughly,) the branches of knowledge which I was to learn, than
to exercise myself in the means of practicing them. At the same
time, the wish to be acquainted with some branches of knowledge
that took hold on my heart and my imagination, even though I neg-
lected the means of acquiring them, was nevertheless enthusiastically-
alive within me ; and unfortunately, the tone of public instruction in\
my native town at this period was in a high degree calculated to fos-
ter this visionary fancy of taking an active interest in, and believing
one's self capable of, the practice of things in which one had by no
means had sufficient exercise, and this fancy was very prevalent
among the youth of my native town generally." What a foreshad-
owing is Pestalozzi's childhood of the whole of his subsequent career i
Among Pestalozzi's teachers, there were three who exercised an in-
fluence upon him in his youth, — Bodmer, Breitinger, and Stein brii-
chel. Bodmer was Professor of History from 1725 to 1775 ; he is
known by his literary controversies with Gottsched and Lessing, his
edition of the Minniesingers, and his epic poem upon the Deluge.
Breitinger, Professor of Greek and Hebrew from 1731 to 1776, edi-
ted the Septuagint. Steinbruchel is described as a witty and learned
man, but very much inclined to infidel "illumination." "Indepen-
dence, freedom, beneficence, self-sacrifice, and patriotism, were the
watchwords of our public education," says Pestalozzi. "But the
means of attaining all this which was particularly commended to us
— mental distinction — was left without solid and sufficient training
of the practical ability which is its essential condition. We were
taught, in a visionary manner, to seek for independence in an abstract
acquaintance with truth, without being made to feel strongly what
was essentially necessary to the security both of our inward and of
our outward domestic and civil independence. The tone of the in-
struction which we received, led us, with much vivacity and many
attractive representations, to be so short-sighted and inconsiderate as,

52 I-'FE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

to set little value upon, and almost to despise, the external means of
wealth, honor, and consideration. This was carried to such a length,
that we imagined, while we were yet in the condition of boys, that,
by a superficial school acquaintance with the great civil life of Greece
and Rome, we could eminently prepare ourselves for the little civil
life in one of the Swiss cantons."

Pestalozzi further relates, that the appearance of the writings of
Rousseau was a great means of keeping alive the errors into which
the noble flight of true and patriotic sentiment had led the more dis-
tinguished of the young Swiss. ''They had run," he says, "into one-
sided, rash, and confused notions, into which Voltaire's seductive
infidelity, being opposed to the pure holiness of religion, and to its
simplicity and innocence, had helped to lead them. Out of all this,"
he tells us, " a new tendency was produced, which was totally incon-
sistent with the real welfare of our native town, constituted as it was
according to the old-fashioned style of the imperial free cities, which
was neither calculated to preserve what was good in the old institu-
tions, nor to introduce any that were substantially better."

At this time, Pestalozzi's contemporary, Lavater, founded a league
which Pestalozzi joined, being then a lad of fifteen. The young men
who formed this league, with Lavater at their head, brought a public
charge of injustice against Grebel, the governor of the canton, im-
peached the character of Brunner, the mayor of Zurich, and declared
war against unworthy ministers of religion.

" The moment Rousseau's Emile appeared," says Pestalozzi, " my
visionary and highly speculative mind was enthusiastically seized by
this visionary and highly speculative book. I compared the educa-
tion which I enjoyed in the corner of my mother's parlor, and also in
the school which I frequented, with what Rousseau demanded for the
education of his Emilus. The home as well as the public education
of the whole world, and of all ranks of society, appeared to me alto-
gether as a crippled thing, which was to find a universal remedy for
its present pitiful condition in Rousseau's lofty ideas.

" The ideal system of liberty, also, to which Rousseau imparted
fresh animation, increased in me the visionary desire for a more ex-
tended sphere of activity, in which I might promote the welfare and
happiness of the people. Juvenile ideas as to what it was necessary
and possible to do in this respect in my native town, induced me to
abandon the clerical profession, to which I had formerly leaned, and
for which I had been destined, and caused the thought to spring up
within me, that it might be possible, by the study of the law, to find
a career that would be likely to procure for me, sooner or later, the

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ! 53

opportunity and means of exercising an active influence on the civil
condition of my native town, and even of my native land."

There was at this time a great controversy in the canton of Zurich,
particularly between the town and the country. Pestalozzi had already
as a boy, when living with his grandfather, the village pastor, won
the affection of the people of the country, and might early have
heard the complaint of the country clergy, omne malum ex urbe, —
•'all harm comes from the town." A fierce hatred toward the aris-
tocracy who oppressed the country people was kindled in his young
heart, and even in old age it was not altogether extinguished. This
warmth of anger coexisted in him with great warmth of love for the
people ; Gothe's saying — •

" Youth's wings should trim themselves for flight

Ere youthful strength be gone,
Thro' hate of wrong and love of right
To bear him bravely on — "

characterizes not only the young Pestalozzi, but also the old man ; it
characterizes most of his writings.

He was seconded at this time by a friend of the name of Blunt-
schli, but a pulmonary complaint laid this young man upon his death-
bed. He sent for Pestalozzi, and said to him, " I die, and when you
are left to yourself, you must not plunge into any Career which from
your good natured and confiding disposition, might become danger-
ous to you. Seek for a quiet, tranquil career ; and unless you have
at your side a man who will faithfully assist you with a calm, dispas-
sionate knowledge of men and things, by no means embark in any
extensive undertaking whose failure would in any way be perilous to
you." An opinion of Pestalozzi's character which was strikingly
confirmed by almost every subsequent event of his life.

Soon after his friend's death, Pestalozzi himself became danger-
ously ill, probably in consequence of his overstrained exertion in the
pursuit of his legal and historical studies. His physicians advised him
to give up scientific pursuits for a time, and to recreate himself in the
country. This advice, \vliirh was strengthened by Rousseau's anti-
scientific diatribes, Pestalozzi followed too faithfully. He renounced
the study of books, burnt his manuscripts, went to his maternal rela-
tion, Dr. Ilotze at Richterswyl, and from thence to Kirchberg, in the
canton of Bern, to TschifTeli, a farmer of considerable reputation.
From him Pestalozzi sought advice as to how he might best realize
his plans for the country people. "I had come to him," says Pestal-
ozzi, " a political visionary, though with many profound and correct
attainments, views, and prospects in political matters ; and I went

,54 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

away from him just as great an agricultural visionary, though with
many enlarged and correct ideas and intentions in regard to agricul-
ture. My stay with him only had this effect — that the gigantic
views in relation to my exertions were awakened within me afresh by
his agricultural plans, which, though difficult of execution, and in
part impracticable, were bold and extensive ; and that, at the same
time, they caused me, in my thoughtlessness as to the means of car-
rying them out, to fall into a callousness, the consequences of which
•contributed in a decisive manner to the pecuniary embarrassment into
which I was plunged in the very first years of my rural life."

Tschiffeli's plantations of madder were exciting great attention at
that time, and induced Pestalozzi to make a similar experiment. He
iearnt that near the village of Birr there was a large tract of barren
2halky heath-land to be sold, which was only used for a sheep-walk.
3e joined a rich mercantile firm in Zurich, and bought about 100
acres of this land, at the nominal price of ten florins. A builder
erected for him, on the land he had purchased, a dwelling house in
the Italian style; Pestalozzi himself calls this an injudicious and im
prudent step. To the whole estate he gave the name of Neuhof.

Among the friends of Pestalozzi's youth, was Schulthess, (the son
of a wealthy merchant in Zurich,) for whose beautiful sister, Anna
Schulthess, Pestalozzi entertained an affection. A letter which he
wrote to the beautiful maiden, gives us a profound insight into the
workings of his heart, and even into his future life. In this letter he
lays before her his hopes and resolutions, and also, with the utmost
candor and with great self-knowledge, his faults. He thus writes : —

" MY DEAR, MY ONLY FRIEND.

44 Our whole future life, our whole happiness, our duties toward our
country and our posterity, and the security of virtue, call upon us to
follow the only correct guide in our actions — Truth. I will, with all
candor, made known to you the serious reflection I have had in these
solemn days upon the relation subsisting between us ; I am happy
that I know before-hand, that my friend will find more true love in
the calm truth of this contemplation, which so intimately concerns
our happiness, than in the ardor of pleasant, but often not too wise,
outpourings of a feeling heart, which I now with difficulty restrain.
" Dear friend, first cf all I must tell you that in future I shall but
seldom dare to approach you. I have already come too frequently
and too imprudently to your brother's house ; I see that it becomes
ray duty to limit my visits to you ; I have not the slightest ability to
conceal my feelings. My sole art in this respect consists in fleeing
from those who observe them ; I should not be able to be in company

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 55

with you for even half an evening, without its being possible for a
moderately acute observer to perceive that I was in a disturbed state
of mind. We know each other sufficiently, dear, to be able to rely
upon mutual straightforward honesty and sincerity. I propose to you
a correspondence in which we shall make our undisguised thoughts
known to each other with all the freedom of oral conversation. Yes,
I will open myself fully and freely to you ; I will even now with the
greatest candor, let you look as deep into my heart as I am myself
able to penetrate ; I will show you my views in the light of my pres-
ent and future condition, as clearly as I see them myself.

" Dearest Schulthess, those of my faults which appear to me the
most important in relation to the situation in which I may be placed
in after-life, are improvidence, incautiousness, and a want of presence
of mind to meet unexpected changes in my future prospects, when
ever they may occur. I know not how far they may be diminished
by my efforts to counteract them, by calm judgment and experience
At present, I have them still in such a degree, that I dare not concea-
them from the maiden whom I love ; they are faults, my dear, which
deserve your fullest consideration. I have other faults, arising from
my irritability and sensitiveness, which oftentimes will not submit to
my judgment. I very frequently allow myself to run into excesses
in praising and blaming, in my likings and dislikings ; I cleave so
strongly to many things which I possess, that the force with which I
feel myself bound to them often exceeds the limits which reason
assigns ; whenever my country or my friend is unhappy, I am myself
unhappy. Direct your whole attention to this weakness ; there will
be times when the cheerfulness and tranquillity of my soul will suffer
under it. If even it does not hinder me in the discharge of my
duties, yet I shall scarcely ever be great enough to fulfill them, in
such adverse circumstances, with the cheerfulness and tranquillity of a
wise man, who is ever true to himself. Of my great, and indeed
very reprehensible negligence in all matters of etiquette, and gene-
rally in all matters which are not in themselves of importance, I need
not speak ; any one may see them at first sight of me. I also owe
you the open confession, my dear, that I shall always consider
my duties toward my beloved partner subordinate to my duties
toward my country ; and that, although I shall be the tenderest
husband, nevertheless I hold it to be my duty to be inexorable to
the tears of my wife, if she should ever attempt to restrain me by
them from the direct performance of my duties as a citizen, whatever
this might lead to. My wife shall be the confident of my heart, the
partner of all my most secret counsels. A great and honest simplicity

56 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

shall reign in my house. And one thing more. My life will not
pass without important and very critical undertakings. I shall not
forget ihe precepts of Menalk, and my first resolutions to devote my-
self wholly to my country ; I shall never from fear of man, refrain
from speaking, when I see that the good of my country calls upon
me to speak : my whole heart is my country's ; I will risk all to alle-
viate the need and misery of my fellow countrymen. What conse-
quences may the undertakings to which I feel myself urged on, draw
after them ; how unequal to them am I ; and how imperative is my
duty to show you the possibility of the great dangers which they
may bring upon me !

"My dear, my beloved friend, I have now spoken candidly of my
character and my aspirations. Reflect upon every thing. If the
traits which it was my duty to mention, diminish your respect for me,
you will still esteem my sincerity, and you will not think less highly
of me, that I did not take advantage of your want of acquaintance
with my character, for the attainment of my inmost wishes. Decide
now whether you can give your heart to a man with these faults and
in such a condition, and be happy.

"My dear friend, I love you so truly from my heart, and with such
fervor, that this step has cost me much ; I fear to lose you, dear, when
you see me as I am ; I had often determined to be silent ; at last I
have conquered myself. My conscience called loudly to me, that I
should be a seducer and not a lover, if I were to hide from my be-
loved a trait of my heart, or a circumstance, which might one day
disgust her and render her unhappy ; I now rejoice at what I have
done. If the circumstances into which -duty and country shall call
me, set a limit to my efforts and my hopes, still I shall not have been
base-minded, not vicious ; I have not sought to please you in a mask,
— I have not deceived you with chimerical hopes of a happiness that
is not to be looked for; I have concealed from you no danger and
no sorrow of the future ; I have nothing to reproach myself with."

It was in the year 1767 that Pestalozzi removed to Neuhof. On
the 24th of January, 1769, two years later, he married Anna Schul-
thess, being then only twenty-four years old. It was not long before
troubles came upon the young married couple. The madder planta-
tion did not prosper; an assistant whom Pestalozzi had engaged,
caused himself to be hated by every body ; the Zurich firm, which had
advanced money to Pestalozzi, sent two competent judges to examine
into the condition of the estate — both of them reported so unfavorably
upon it, especially upon the buildings, that the firm preferred taking
back their capital with loss, to trusting it any longer in Pestalozzi's

LIFE AN EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 57

hands. " The cause of the failure of my undertaking," says he, " lav
essentially and exclusively in myself, and in my pronounced incapacity
for .-very kind of undertaking which requires eminent practical
ability."

Notwithstanding the great distress into which he fell, he resolved
not only to go on with farming, but to combine with it a school for
poor child ivn. u I wished," says he, " to make my estate a centre for
my educational and agricultural labors. In spite of all difficulties, I
wanted, like a visionary, to reach the highest point in every respect,
at the same time that I lacked the faculties, abilities, and skill, from
which alone can proceed a proper attention to the first and humblest
beginnings and preparatory steps to the great things which I sought
after. So great, so unspeakably great, in consequence of the peculiarity
of my mind, was the contrast between what I wished to do and what
I did and was able to do, which arose from the disproportion between
my good natured zeal, on the one side, and my mental impotency and
unskillful ness in the affairs of life on the other."

By mental impotency, we must understand only a want of school-
ing or intellectual disciplining of the mind, for just at this time Pes-
talozzi's literary talent made itself known. He came forward with a
plan for the establishment of the Poor School. His views and prin-
ciples met with so much approbation in an economical point of veiw,
in spite of the want of confidence, in his practical ability, that he
received offers of assistance from Zurich, Bern, and Basel, and many
poor children were sent to him.

Thus began the Neuhof Poor School in the year 1775 ; it had
soon fifty pupils. In the summer, the children were to be chiefly em-
ployed in field-work, — in winter, with spinning and other handicrafts.
During the time that they were engaged in the handicrafts, Pesta-
lozzi gave them instruction ; exercises in speaking were predominant.

But no long time elapsed before the establishment declined ; to
which result many things contributed. The children, who were to
earn their support by their work, were, although beggar children,
spoilt and full of demands. Their parents, who every Sunday be-
sieged Neuhof, confirmed them in this, and also ran off with them as
soon as they had got new clothes. None of the authorities protected
Pestalozzi against this misconduct, from which the farming suffered a
great deal. " But these difficulties," says Pestalozzi, " might gradually
have been more or less overcome, if I had not sought to carry out
my experiment on a scale that was quite disproportioned to my
strength, and had not, with almost incredible thoughtlessness, wanted
to convert it, in the very beginning, into an undertaking which pre-

58 WE AND EDUCATIONAL SY-IKM i>l I'l >l M <>//!

supposed a thorough knowledge of maimtaetmvx, m.-ii, ami
in which I was deficient in the same proportion asth«-\ \\.-n- r«-nd. i,-,]
necessary to me by the direction which I now gave niv und.-rt.-iK
I, who so much disapproved of the hurrying to the higher stages of
instruction, before a thorough foundation had been laid in tin- ••l.-mm-
tary steps of the lower stages, and looked upon it as the fundamental
error in the education of the day, and who also believed that I was
myself endeavoring with all my might to counteract it in inv plan of
education, allowed myself to be carried away by illusions of the greater
remunerativeness of the higher branches of industry, without knowing
even remotely either them or the means of learning and introdm -in^
them, and to commit the very faults in teaching my school children
spinning and weaving which, as I have just said, I so strongly repro-
bated and denounced in the whole of my views on education, and
which I considered dangerous to the domestic happiness of all classes.
I wanted to have the finest thread spun, before my childivn had
gained any steadiness or sureness of hand in spinning even the
coarser kinds, and, in lik.- manner to, make mu>lin fabrics, before my
weavers had acquired sufficient steadiness and readiness in the weaving
of common cotton goods. Practiced and skillful manufactuivrs ruin
themselves by such preposterous conduct, — how much ID..IV certain to
be ruined by such conduct was I, who was so blind in the discernment
of what was necessary to success, that 1 must .li-tinctly say, that who-
ever took but a thread of mine into his hand was at once in a posi-
tion to cause half of its value to vanish for me ! Before I was aware
of it, too, I was deeply involved in debt, and the greater part of my
dear wife's property and expectations had in an instant, as it were,
gone up in smoke. Our misfortune was decided. I was now poor.
The extent and rapidity of my misfortune was owing to this among
other causes — that, in this undertaking, as in the first, I readily, very
readily, received an unquestioning confidence. My plan soon m- 1
with a degree of confidence which an attentive consideration of my
former conduct would have shown that which I did not merit in the
present undertaking. After all the experience they had had of my
errors in this respect, people still did not think the extent of my i
pacity for everything practical wras so great as it really was. I
yet enjoyed for a while, to all appearance, an extensive confidence,
l.ut when my experiment went rapidly to wreck, as it necessarily did,
this feeling changed, in my neighborhood, into just as inconsiderate
a degree of the contrary, into a totally blind abandonment of even
the last shadow of respect for my endeavors, and of belief in my
•fitness for the accomplishment of any part of them. It is the course

LIFE AM) EDUCATIONAL SVSTKM <>F I'liS 1 Al.< >//! 59

of the world, and it happened to me as it happens to every one who
thus 1 ec"iii'-> poor through his own fault. Such a man generally
!o-_;vther with his money, the belief and the contidfiicr in what
hi- i-f.-illv is and is able to do. The bdii-f in tin- qualifications which
I it-ally had for attaining my objects was now lost, along with the
belief in those which, erring in my self-deception, I gave myself credit
for, but which I really had not."

Thus it haj.prn. d, that in the year 1780, lVstalo//i was obliged to
bivak up the establishment at Neulmf, at't«-r it had b'-en ii\.- \.-ars in
operation. His situation was frightful. Frequently in his only too
elegant country house he wanted money, hivad, fin-1, in ord.-r to pro
tect himself against hunger and cold. His faithful wife, who had
pledged nearly the whole of her property for him, fell into a severe
and tedious illness. "My fri.-nd>," relates Pe>taW.xi, "now only
lo\vd me without hope; in the whole circuit of the surrounding dis-
trict it was every where said that I was a lost man. that nothing more
could be done for me."

The breaking up of the establishment at Neuhof was a fortunate
thing for Pestalozzi — and for tin- world He was no longer to fritter
away his strength in efforts to which he was not equal. And, never-
thel« — . his Kvere mental and physical labor was not to have been in
vain, but was to bear precious fruit-. As the first of these fruits,
there appeared in 1780 a paper of his, brief but full of meaning, in
Iselin's Ephemerides, under th«- title, The Evening Hour of a Hermit.
It contains a series of aphorisms, which nevertheless are cast in one
mould, and -tand among one another in the closest connection.
Fruits of the past years of Pestalozzi's life, they are at the same
time seeds of the following years, programme and key to his educa-
tional labors. "Iselin's KplM-m.-rid.-s,'' he writ.-s in 1801, alluding to
this Evening Hour, "bear witness, that the dream of my wishes is not
more comprehensive now, than it was when at that time I sought to
leali/r it.

It is scarcely possible to make a selection from these concise and
thought-teeming aphorisms, the more so because they form, as I have
said, a beautiful and ingenious whole, which suffers in the selection.
Nevertheless, I will run the risk of selecting some of the principal
thought*.

The paper begins with melancholy seriousness. "Pastors and
teachers of the nations, know you man ; is it with you a matter of
conscience to understand his nature and destiny ?

"All mankind are in their nature alike, they have but one path to
•contentment. The natural faculties of each one are to be perfected

60 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

into pure human wisdom. This general education of man must serve-
as the foundation to every education of a particular rank.

" The faculties grow by exercise.

" The intellectual powers of children must not be urged on to re-
mote distances before they have acquired strength by exercise in
things near them.

"The circle of knowledge commences close around a man, and from
thence stretches out concentrically.

" Real knowledge must take precedence of word-teaching and mere
talk.

"All human wisdom is based upon the strength of a good heart,
obedient to truth. Knowledge and ambition must be subordinated
to inward peace and calm enjoyment.

"As the education for the closest relations precedes the education
for more remote ones, so must education in the duties of members
of families precede education in the duties of citizens. But nearer
than father or mother is God, ' the closest relation of mankind is
their relation to Him.'

"Faith in God is 'the confiding, childlike feeling of mankind to-
ward the paternal mind of the Supreme Being.' This faith is not the
result and consequence of cultivated wisdom, but is purely an instinct
of simplicity ; a childlike and obedient mind is not the consequence
of a finished education, but the early and first foundation of human
culture. Out of the faith in God springs the hope of eternal life.
'Children of God are immortal.'

" Belief in God sanctifies and strengthens the tie between parents
and children, between subjects and rulers ; unbelief loosens all ties,
annihilates all blessings.

" Sin is the source and consequence of unbelief, it is acting con-
trary to the inward witness of right and wrong, the loss of the child-
like mind toward God.

" Freedom is based upon justice, justice upon love, therefore free-
dom also is based upon love.

"Justice in families, the purest, most productive of blessings, has
love for its source.

" Pure childlike feeling is the true source of the freedom that is
based upon justice, and pure paternal feeling is the source of all
power of governing, that is noble enough to do justice and to love
freedom. And the source of justice and of all worldly blessings, the
source of the love and brotherly feeling of mankind toward one an-
other, this is based upon the great thought of religion, that we are
children of God, and that the belief in this truth is the sure ground

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. (J]

•of all worldly blessings. In this great thought of religion lies ever
the spirit of all true state policy th'at seeks only the blessing of the
people, for all inward power of morality, enlightenment and worldly
wisdom, is based upon this ground of the belief of mankind in God ;
•and ungodliness, misapprehension of the relation of mankind as chil-
dren to the Supreme Being, is the source which dissolves all the
power with which morals, enlightenment, and wisdom, are capable
of blessing mankind. Therefore the loss of this childlike feeling of
mankind toward God is the greatest misfortune of the world, as it
renders impossible all paternal education on the part of God, and the
restoration of this lost childlike feeling is the redemption of the lost
children of God on earth.

"The Son of God, who with suffering and death has restored tc
mankind the universally lost feeling of filial love toward God, is the Re-
deemer of the world, He is the sacrificed Priest of the Lord, He is
Mediator between God and sinful mankind. His doctrine is pure jus-
tice, educative national philosophy ; it is the revelation of God the
Father to the lost race of his children."

Much might be said upon these aphorisms ; each is a text for a
discourse ; indeed, Pestalozzi's life is a paraphrase in facts of these
texts. We must accuse human weakness, if the realization of his
great anticipations henceforward also turns out but miserably, nay.
only too often stands in the most glaring contradiction with ".hem.
The plan of an inventive builder, however, retains its value, if even the
builder himself lack the skill to carry out the building according tc
the plan.

Rousseau's Emile appeared eighteen years before Pestalozzi's Eve-
ning Hour ; in what relation does Rousseau stand to Pestalozzi ? In
particular points they frequently agree. Like Pestalozzi, Rousseau
requires real knowledge and trained skill in the business of life, not
an empty display of words, without an insight into'the things them-
selves, and a ready power of acting. Like Pestalozzi, Rousseau also;
ridicules the plan of giving children a discursive knowledge about
things remote, and leaving them in ignorance of the things in their
immediate vicinity ; he requires, like Pestalozzi, that they should first
be at home in this vicinity.

In this manner many other things might be pointed out in which
both men agree, arising principally from their common aversion tc
a ba&eltiss^jie.ad talkativeness, without any real intelligence, activity
of mind, or readiness of action. But when viewed more closely,
how immensely different are the two men in all that is most essential.

Rousseau will not have God named before children ; he is of opinion

62 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

that long physical and metaphysical study is necessary to enable us-
to think of God. With Pestalozzi, God is the nearest, the most inti-
^nate being to man, the Alpha and Omega of his whole life. Rous-
seau's God is no paternal God of love, his Emile no child of God.
The man who put his children into a foundling hospital, knew nothing
of paternal and filial love ; still less of rulers as the fathers of the
natons, and of the childlike obedience of subjects; his ideal was a
cold, heartless freedom, which was not based upon love, but was de-
'ensive, isolating, and altogether selfish.

While, therefore, according to Pestalozzi, the belief in God pene-
trates, strengthens, attunes, sanctifies all the relations of men ; while
one relations between ruler and subjects, between fathers and children,
and the paternal love of God to his children, men, are every where
".effected in his paper — with Rousseau there is never any mention of
such bonds of love,.

A year after the publication of the Evening Hour, namely, in 1781,
• appeared the first part of that work of Pestalozzi's which established
pis reputation, which exercised an extensive and wholesome influence
at the time, and which will continue to exercise an influence in future.
That work is " Leonard and Gertrude : A Book for the People."
It was undertaken at a time, when, as he relates, " my old friends
looked upon it as almost settled that I should end my days in a
workhouse, or in a lunatic asylum." The form was suggested by
Marmontel's Conies moraux\ and* he was stimulated to effort, by a
few words of encouragement from the bookseller Fiissli, of Zurich, or
rather of the brother better known as JFuseli, the painter. After a
few attempts at composition with which he was not satisfied, "the
history of Leonard and Gertrude flowed from my pen, I know not
how, and developed itself of its own accord, without my having the
slightest plan in my head, and even without my thinking of one.
In a few weeks, the book stood there, without my knowing exactly
how I had done it. I felt its value, but only as a man in his sleep
feels the value of some piece of good fortune of which he is just
dreaming. " The book appeared, and excited quite a remarkable degree
of interest in my own country and throughout the whole of Germany.
Nearly all the journals spoke in its praise, and, what is perhaps still
more, nearly all the almanacs became full of it; but the most unex-
pected thing to me was that, immediately after its appearance, the
Agricultural Society of Bern awarded me their great gold medal, with
a letter of thanks."

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. Q$

Pestalozzi himself has repeatedly spoken of the character and ob-
ject of Leonard and Gertrude. In the preface to the first edition of
the work, he says: "In that which I here relate, and which I have
for .the most part seen and heard myself in the course of an active
life, I have even taken care not once to add my own opinion to what
I saw and heard the people themselves feeling, judging, believing,
speaking, and attempting. And now this will show itself: — If the
results of my observation are true, and if I gave them as I received
them, and as it is my aim to do, they will find acceptance with all
those who themselves have daily before their eyes the things which
I relate. If, however, they are incorrect, if they are the work of my
imagination and the preaching of my own opinions, they will, like
other Sunday sermons, vanish on the Monday." In the preface to
the second edition, Pestalozzi gives as the object of the book, "To
bring about a better popular education, based upon the true condition
of the people and their natural relations." "It was," he says, "my
first word to the heart of the poor and destitute in the land. It was
my first word to the heart of those who stand in God's stead to the
poor and destitute in the land. It was my first word to the mothers
in the land, and to the heart which God gave them, to be *.D theirs
what no one on earth can be in their stead."

"I desired nothing, and to-day, (1800,) I desire nothing else, as the
object of my life, but the welfare of the people, whom I love, and
•whom I feel to be miserable as few feel them to be miserable, having
with them, borne their sufferings as few have borne them."

The remarks which I have cited characterize the soul of Leonard
and Gertrude. In the severe years of suffering at Neuhof, Pestalozzi
appeared to have wrought and suffered in vain. " To the accomplish-
ment of my purpose," he says, " there stood opposed my entire want
of trained practical skill, and a vast disproportion between the extent
of my will and the limits of my ability."

He did not work in vain, however ; what was denied him on the
one side turned out to his advantage on the other. If he lacked all
skill in carrying out his ideas, he possessed on the other hand, in the
highest degree, the faculty of observing, comprehending, and por-
traying character. If he was not able to exhibit to the world his
ideal realized, it was given to him to infuse the loving desires of his
heart into the hearts of others, by means of his talent of poetical
delineation. He might hope that men of practical ability would be
among the readers of his book, and would be incited by it to realize
what he only knew how to picuire. He has found such readers.
Leonard and Gertrude is in so many hands, that it is almost superflu-
ous to give a selection from the work. On.y this The principal

\

64 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

person in it is Gertrude, the wife of Leonard, a good-natured but
rather weak man, whose stay and guardian she is. The manner in
which she keeps house and instructs and trains her children, is Pesta-
lozzi's ideal. Such house-keeping, such a manner of instructing .and
training, he desires for all people. Gertrude is consulted even in the
management of the village school. Her house-keeping is the bright
side of the circumstances depicted ; in contrast with her is a terribly
dark side, a peasant community in the deepest depravity. It is re-
lated of what Arner, the equally benevolent and intelligent lord of
the village, does to check the depravity.

Pestalozzi wished to give the people the knowledge and skill need-
ft" for them chiefly by means of a good elementary instruction. If
this instruction began at the right place, and proceeded properly,
wnat an entirely different race would arise out of the children so
instructed, a race made independent by intelligence and skill !

In vain, however, did Pestalozzi look around him for elementary
teachers who could and would instruct after his manner and in his
spirit. Seminaries, too, were wanting in which such teachers could
l>e trained. Then the thought occurred to him who had grown up in
his mother's parlor: "I will place the education of the people in the
hand-* of the mothers; I will transplant it out of the school-room into
the parlor." Gertrude was to be the model of mothers. But how
are the mothers in the lower classes to be qualified for instructing? —
We shall see how Pestalozzi's Compendium* are meant to be an an-
swer to this question, to supply the place of knowledge and teaching
talent. The mothers have only to keep strictly to these books in the
instruction of their children ; if they do this, the mother of the most
limited capacity will instruct just as well as the most talented ; com-
pendiums and method are to equalize their minds: such was Pesta-
lozzi's ideal, to whirh I shall afterward come back.

With extreme short-sightedness, the persons in immediate inter-
course with Pestalozzi saw in this book of his dearly-bought expe-
rience nothing more than a proof that its author was born for novel
writing, and would in future be able to earn his bread by it.

Others understood better tlio value of the book. Karl von Hon-
*tetten entreated Pestalozzi to come and live with him on his estate
in Italian Switzerland; the Austrian Minister of Finance, Count Zin-
zendorf, wished to have him in his neighborhood. Subsequently, he
became known, through Count Hohenwart, in Florence, to the Grand
Duke Leopold of Tuscany, who was about to give him an appoint-
ment, when he was called by the death of Joseph II., to the imperial
throne of Germany, and the appointment, was therefore not made.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. ^tj

If it be asked whether he would have been of any use in a post of
importance, a word of Lavater's upon this subject may contain the
answer. Pestalozzi tells us — " He once said to his wife, ' If I were a
prince, I would consult Pestalozzi in every thing that concerns the
people and the improvement of their condition ; but I would never
trust him with a farthing of money.' At another time, he said to my-
self, * When I only once see a line of yours without a mistake, I will
believe you capable of much, very much, that you would like to do
and to be.' "

FOR seventeen years after the publication of Leonard and Gertrude,
Pestalozzi continued to drag on his needy and depressed existence at
Neuhof, where he spent altogether thirty years. Of his outward life
during those seventeen years, we learn little else, besides the general
fact just stated. It is worthy of mention, that in this period he en-
tered the order of Illuminati, an order which was characterized by
infidelity, exaggerated ideas of enlightenment, and destructive but not
reconstructive principles, and that he even became eventually the head
of the order in Switzerland. He soon discovered his mistake, how-
ever, and withdrew from it. "That which is undertaken by associa-
tions," he says, " usually falls into the hands of intriguers."

In this period he wrote several books.

In the year 1782, he published "Christopher and Alice." He
himself relates the origin of this work. People had imbibed from
Leonard and Gertrude the idea, that all the depravity among the
common people proceeded from the subordinate functionaries in the
villages. "In Christopher and Alice," says Pestalozzi, "I wished to
make apparent to the educated public the connection of those causes
of popular depravity which are to be found higher in the social scale,
but which on this account are also more disguised and concealed,
with the naked, undisguised, and unconcealed causes of it, as they are
manifested in the villages in the persons of the unworthy function-
aries. For this purpose, I made .a peasant family read together Leon-
ard and Gertrude, and say things about the story of that work, and
the persons introduced in it, which I thought might not occur of
themselves to everybody's mind."

So says Pestalozzi in the year 1826; but he spoke otherwise in the
preface to the book when it first appeared, in 1782. " Reader! " he
says, " this book which thou takest into thy hand is an attempt to
produce a manual of instruction for the use of the universal school
of humanity, the parlor. I wish it to be read in every cottage."

5

QQ LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

This wish was not accomplished, as we learn from the preface to
the second edition, (1824,) which commences thus, "This book has
not found its way at all into the hands of the people. In my native
land, even in the canton of my native town, and in the very village in
which I once lived, it has remained as strange and unknown, as if it
had not been in existence."

In the same year, 1782, and the one following, Pestalozzi edited
" A Swiss Journal," of which a number appeared every week. In
this Journal, he communicated, among other things, memoirs of de-
ceased friends. Thus he wrote the memoirs of Frolich, the pastor of
Birr, who had died young. Pestalozzi says of him, " he dedicated
himself to the work of the great divine calling, but eternal love dedi-
cated him to the liberty of eternal life." The way in which he speak&
of the excellent Iselin, who had died in 1782, is particularly affecting.
" I should have perished in the depths into which I had fallen," he
says, " if Iselin had not raised me up. Iselin made me feel that I
had done something, even in the poor school."

The discourse " on Legislation and Infanticide " also appeared in
1782.

About 1783, Pestalozzi contemplated the establishment of a lunatic
asylum and a reformatory institution, and wrote upon the subject; the
manuscript, however, was lost.

In the years between 1780 and 1790, in the days of the approach-
ing French revolution, and in the first symptoms of the dangers which
its influence on Switzerland might entail," * he wrote " The Figures
to my ABC-Book; they were not published, however, till 1795: a
new edition, under the title of "Fables," came out in 1805. They
relate principally to the condition of Switzerland at that time.

In the summer of 1792, he went to Germany, at the invitation of
his sister in Leipzig, and became acquainted with Gothe, Herder,
Wieland, Klopstock, and Jacobi ; he also visited several normal
schools.

In 1798 appeared Pestalozzi's "Researches into the Course of Na-
ture in the Development of the Human Race." He says himself,
speaking of this book, "I wrought at it for three long years with in-
credible toil, chiefly with the view of clearing up my own mind upon
the tendency of my favorite notions, and of bringing my natural
feelings into harmony with my ideas of civil rights and morality.
But this work too is, to me, only another evidence of my inward
helplessness, the mere play of my powers of research ; my views were

*Pesfalo/.zi's words in the preface to the " Figures."

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SVSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. g^

altogether one-sided, while I was without a proportionate degree of
control over myself in regard to them, and the work was left void of
any adequate effort after practical excellence, which was so necessary
for my purpose. The disproportion between my ability and my views
only increased the more. The effect of my book upon those by
whom I was surrounded was like the effect of all that I did ; scarcely
any one understood me, and I did not find in my vicinity two men
who did not half give me to understand that they looked upon the
entire book as so much balderdash/'

Pestalozzi here assumes three states of man : an original, instinct-
like, innocent, animal state of nature, out of which he passes into the
social state, (this reminds us of Rosseau ;) he works himself out of
the social state and raises himself to the moral. The social man is
in an unhappy middle condition between animal propensities and
moral elevation.

The original animal state of nature can not be pointed to in any one
individual man ; the innocence of that state ceases with the first cry
of the new-born child, and " animal depravity arises from whatever
stands opposed to the normal condition of our animal existence."
Against this depravity, man seeks for aid in the social state, but finds,
it not ; it is only the moral will that can save him, " the force of
which he opposes to the force of his nature. He will fear a God, in
order that the animal instincts of his nature shall not degrade him in .
his inmost soul. He feels what he can do in this respect, and then he
makes what he can do the law to himself of what he ought to do.
Subjected to this law, which he imposes upon himself, he is distin-
guished from all other creatures with which we are acquainted."

Where and when, for example, did Pestalozzi's man of nature ever
exist — an innocent animal man, endowed with instinct ? * This
character does not apply to Adam in .Paradise, who was not an
animal, but a lord of the animals, and still less does it apply to any
child of Adam. In how simple and sublime a manner, on the

* Voltaire wrote the following characteristic letter to Rosseau about his discourse, pre-
pared and offered for the prize proposed by the Academy of Dixon, on the origin of the
inequality among men, and published in 1775 : — " I have received your new book against the
human race,' and thank you for it. You will please men, to whom you speak the truth, but
not make them better. No one could paint in stronger colors the horrors of human society,
from which our ignorance and weakness promise themselves so many delights. Never has
any one employed so much genius to make us into beasts ; when one reads your book, one
is seized with a desire to go down on all fours. Nevertheless, as I have left off this habit
already more than sixty years, I feel, unfortunately, that it is impossible for me to take to it
again, and I leave this natural mode of walking to others who are more worthy of it than
you and I. Neither can I take ship, in order to visit the savages -of Canada, firstly, oecause
the maladies to which I am condemned, render a European physician necessary to me ; then
again, because there is at present war in that country, .and the examples of our nations has
made the savages almost as bad as we are ourselves. I am content to live as a peaceful
eavage in the lonely district adjoining your native land, &c "

(J8 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

contrary, do the Holy Scriptures comprehend and characterize the
whole human race.

Thus we see Pestalozzi but little or not at all engaged in educa-
tional undertakings during the eighteen years from 1780 to 1798*
his writings too, during this time are mainly of a philosophical and
political character, and relate only indirectly to education. But the
French revolution introduced a new epoch, for Pestalozzi, as well as
for Switzerland.

The revolutionary armies of France pressed into the country, old
forms were destroyed, the whole of Switzerland was consolidated into
an " inseparable republic," at the head of which stood five directors,
after the model of the French directional government of that time.
Among these was Legrand, a man of a class that is always becoming
more rare. I visited the amiable octogenarian in Steinthal, where
formerly, with his friend Oberlin, he had labored for the welfare of
the communes. When the conversation turned on the happiness or
the education of the people, or on the education of youth generally,
the old man became animated with youthful enthusiasm, and tears
started to his eyes.

Legrand was a friend of Pestalozzi's ; no wonder, seeing that the
two men very nearly resembled each other in their way of thinking,
as well as in their enthusiastic activity and their unbounded hopeful-
ness. Pestalozzi joined the new republic, while, at the same time, he
did all in his power to subdue the Jacobinical element in it. He
wrote a paper " On the Present Condition and Disposition of Man-
kind." In this paper, as also in the " Swiss People's Journal," which
he edited at the instigation of the government, he pressed upon the
attention of the people the necessity of a return to the integrity and
piety of their ancestors ; the instruction arid education of youth, he
represented, were the means for attaining this object.

Although, in pointing to an ennobling education of youth, and
especially the youth of the people and the poor, as the securest guar-
antee of a lawfully ordered political condition, he only did that which
he could not leave undone ; still most people believed that he was
speaking and writing thus industriously, merely with the view of pro-
curing for himself an office under the new government, when an op-
portunity should arise. The government on whom he urged with far
too much vehemence the importance of order, justice, and law, actu*
ally offered him an appointment, in the hope that he would then be
quiet. But what was their astonishment, when, in reply to their in-
quiry as to what office he would be willing to accept, he said, " I WILL
BE A SCHOOLMASTER." But few understood him, only those who,

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

69

like himself, were earnestly desirous for the foundation of a truly
equitable political condition.

Legrand entered into the idea ; and Pestalozzi was already about
to open an educational institution in the canton of Argovia, when one
of the misfortunes of war intervened. On the 9th of September,
1798, Stanz in Unterwalden was burnt by the French, the entire can--
ton was laid waste, and a multitude of fatherless and motherless
children were wandering about destitute and without a shelter. Le-
grand now called upon Pestalozzi to go to Stanz and undertake the
care of the destitute children.

Pestalozzi went ; what he experienced he has himself told us.

The convent of the Ursulines there was given up to him ; he took
up his abode in it, accompanied only by a housekeeper, before it was
even put into a fit condition for the reception of children. Gradually
he gathered around him as many as eighty poor children, from four
to ten years old, some of them orphans, horribly neglected, infected
with the itch and scurvy, and covered with vermin. Among ten of
them, scarcely one could say the alphabet. He describes the educa-
tional experiments which he made with such children, and speaks
of these experiments as " a sort of feeler of the pulse of the science
which he sought to improve, a venturesome effort." "A person with
the use of his eyes," he adds, " would certainly not have ventured
it; fortunately, I was blind."

For example, under the most difficult circumstances, he wanted to
prove, by actual experiment, that those things in which domestic edu-
cation possesses advantages must be imitated in public education.

He gave the children no set lessons on religion ; being suspected
by the Roman Catholic parents, as a Protestant, and at the same time
as an adherent of the new government, he did not dare ; but when-
ever the occurrence of daily life presented an opportunity, he would
make them the groundwork of inculcating some religious or moral
lesson. As he had formerly done at Neuhof, he sought to combine
intellectual instruction with manual labor, the establishment for in-
struction with that for industrial occupations, and to fuse the two into
each other. But it became clear to him, that the first stages of in-
tellectual training must be separated from those of industrial training
and precede the fusion of the two. It was here in Stanz also that
Pestalozzi, for want of other assistants, set children to instruct chil-
dren, a plan which Lancaster was similarly led to adopt in conse-
quence of the inability of the teacher to instruct the large numbers
of children who were placed under his charge.* Pestalozzi remarks,

* Lancaster's monitors, t.e children, set to teach and superintend other children. "At
that time, (1798,)" says I'estalozzi. " nobody had begun to ppeak of mutual instruction."

70 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

•without disapprobation, that a feeling of honor was bv this means,
awakened in the children ; a remark which directly contradicts his
opinion, that the performance of the duties of the monitor proceeded
from a disposition similar to brotherly love.

Another plan, which is now imitated in countless elementary schools,
was likewise tried by Pestalozzi at Stanz, namely, that of making a
number of children pronounce the same sentences simultaneously,
syllable for syllable.* uThe confusion arising from a number of
children repeating after me at once," he says, " led me to see the ne-
cessity of a measured pace in speaking, and this measured pace
heightened the effect of the lesson."

Pestalozzi repeats, in his account of the Stanz institution, what he
had brought forward in Leonard and Gertrude. " My aim," he says,
" was to carry the simplification of the means of teaching so far, that
all the common people might easily be brought to teach their chil-
dren, and gradually to render the schools almost superfluous for the
first elements of instruction. As the mother is the first to nourish
her child physically, so also, by the appointment of God, she must be
the first to give it spiritual nourishment ; I reckon that very great
evils have been engendered by sending children too early to school,
and by all the artificial means of educating them away from home.
The time will come, so soon as we shall have simplified instruction,
when every mother will be able to teach, without the help of others,
and thereby, at the same time, to go on herself always learning."

I refer the reader to Pestalozzi's own description of his singularly
active labors in Stanz, where he was not only the teacher and trainer
of eighty children, but, as he says, paymaster, manservant, and al-
most housemaid, at the same time. In addition to this, sickness
broke out among the children, and the parents showed themselves
shamelessly ungrateful.

Pestalozzi would have sunk under these efforts had he not been
liberated on the 8th of June, 1799, by the French, who, being hard
pressed by the Austrians, came to Stanz, and converted one wing of
the convent into a military hospital. This induced him to let the
children return to their friends, and he went himself up the Gurnigel
mountains, to a medicinal spring. Only twenty-two children re-
mained ; these, says Mr. Heussler, " were attended to, taught, and
trained, if not in Pestalozzi's spirit, still with care and with more
:>rder and cleanliness, under the guidance of the reverend Mr.
Businger."

* The plan of simultaneous reading and speaking had been introduced into the Austrian
schools at an earlier period.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 7^

" On the Gurnigel," says Pestalozzi, " I enjoyed days of recreation.
•I required them ; it is a wonder that I am still alive. I shall not for-
get those days, as long as I live : they saved me, but I could njt live
without my work."

Pestalozzi was much blamed for giving up the Stanz institution,
although necessity had compelled him to do so. " People said to my
face," he says, " that it was a piece of folly, to believe that, because a
man had written something sensible in his thirtieth year, he would
therefore be capable of doing something sensible in his fiftieth year.
I was said to be brooding over a beautiful dream."

Pestalozzi came down from the Gurnigel ; at the advice of Chief
Justice Schnell, he went to Burgdorf, the second town in the canton
of Bern, where through the influence of well-wishers, Pestalozzi ob-
tained leave to give instruction in the primary schools. * He had
many enemies. The head master of the schools imagined that Pes-
talozzi wanted to supplant him in his appointment : the report spread
that the Heidelberg catechism was in danger : " it was whispered,"
says Pestalozzi, " that I myself could not write, nor work accounts,
nor even read properly. Popular reports are not always entirely des-
titute of truth," he adds ; " it is true that I could not write, nor read,
nor work accounts well.

As far as the regulations of the school would allow, Pestalozzi pro-
secuted here the experiments in elementary instruction which he had
begun at Stanz. M. Glayre, a member of the executive council of
the canton, to whom he endeavored to explain the tendency of these
experiments, made the ominous remark, " You want to render educa-
tion mechanical." "He hit the nail on the head," says Pestalozzi,
" and supplied me with the very expression that indicated the object
of my endeavors, and of the means which I employed for attaining
it."

Pestalozzi had not been schoolmaster at Burgdorf, quite a year,
when he had a pulmonary attack; in consequence of this he gav<- up
the appointment, and a new epoch of his life commenced. M. Fis-
cher, secretary to the Helvetian minister of public instruction, had
entertained the idea of founding a normal school in the castle of
Burgdorf, but had died before carrying it into execution. With this
end in view, he had induced M. Kriisi to come to Burgdorf. Kriisi
was a native of Gaiss, in the canton of Appenzell, was schoolmaster
there at the early age of eighteen, and had migrated thence in the
year 1799, taking with him 28 children. Pestalozzi now proposed

* In a school in which children from four ro eight years old received instructions in
reading and writing, under the general superintendence of a female teacher.

72 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZl.

to Kriisi to join him in establishing an educational institution : Kriisi
willingly agreed, and through him the cooperation of M. Tobler,
who had been for the last five years tutor in a family in Basel, was
obtained; through Tobler, that of M. Buss, of Tubingen. With
these three assistants, Pestalozzi opened the institution in the winter
of 1800.

It was in Burgclorf that Pestalozzi commenced a work whicfy with
the " Evening Hour," and " Leonard and Gertrude," stands otit con-
•picuously amongst his writings. It was commenced on the 1st of
January, 1801.

I It bears the queer title, " How Gertrude teaches her children : an

attempt to give Directions to Mothers how to instruct their own Chil-
dren." The reader must not be misled by the title ; the book
contains any thing but directions for mothers."

There are numerous contradictions throughout the book, as well as
on the title page ; and it is therefore a most difficult task to give a
condensed view of it. Almost the only way to accomplish this will
be to resolve it into its elements.

Nothing can be more touching than the passage in which the
author speaks of the desire of his whole life to alleviate the condition
of the suffering people — of his inability to satisfy this desire — of his
many blunders — and of his despair of himself; and then humbly
thanks God, who had preserved him, when he had cast himself away,
and who graciously permitted him, even in old age, to look forward
to a brighter future. It is impossible to read any thing more affecting.

The second element of this book is a fierce and fulminating battle
against the sins and faults of his time. He advances to the assault
at storm-pace, and clears every thing before him with the irresistible
force of truth. He directs his attack principally against the hollow
education of our time, particularly in the higher ranks of society.
He calls the members of the aristocracy " miserable creatures of mere
words, who by the artificialities of their mode of life are rendered
incapable of feeling that they themselves stand on stilts, and that
they must come down off their wretched wooden legs, in order to
stand on God's earth with even the same amount of firmness as the
people."

In another part of the book, Pestalozzi declaims warmly against all
the education of the present age. " It sacrifices, (he says,) the sub
stance of all instruction to the nonsense about particular isolated sys-
tem of instruction, and by filling the mind with fragments of truth,
it quenches the spirit of truth itself, and deprives mankind of the
power of independence which is based thereon. I have found, what

AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 73

was very obvious, that this system of instruction, does nut base the
use of particular means either on elementary principles or elementary
forms. The state of popular instruction rendered it inevitable that
Europe should sink into error, or rather madness, and into this it
really did sink. On the one hand, it raised itself into a gigantic
height in particular arts ; on the other, it lost for the whole of its
people all the stability and support which are to be obtained by rest-
ing on the guidance of nature. On the one side, no quarter of the globe
ever stood so high ; but on the other, no quarter of the globe has ever
sunk so low. With the golden head of its particular arts, it touches
the clouds, like the image of the prophet ; but popular instruction,
which ought to be the basis and support of this golden head, is every
where, on the contrary, the most wretched, fragile, good-for-nothing
clay, like the feet of that gigantic image." .

For this incongruity in our intellectual culture, he blames chiefly
the art of printing, through which, he says, the eyes have become
book-eyes — men have become book-men.

» ^^^^

Throughout the work, he speaks against the senseless use of the
tongue — against the habit of talking without any real purpose.
" The babbling disposition of our time, (he says,) is so much bound
up with the struggle of tens of thousands and hundreds of thousands
for their daily bread, and with their slavish adherence to custom, that
it will be long, very long, before this temporizing race shall gladly
receive into their hearts truths so much opposed to their sensual de-
pravity. Wherever the fundamental faculties of the human mind
are allowed to lie dormant, and on those dormant faculties empty
words are propt up, there you are making dreamers, whose visions are
all the more visionary because the words that were propt up on their
miserable yawning existence, were high-sounding, and full of preten-
sions. As a matter of course, such pupils will dream any and every"
thing before they will dream that they are sleeping and dreaming ;
but all those about them who are awake, perceive their presumption,
and, (when it suits,) put them down as somnambulists.

"The meaningless declamation of this superficial knowledge pro-
duces men who fancy that they have reached the goal in all branches
of study, just because their whole life is a belabored prating about
that goal ; but they never accomplish so much as to make an effort to
reach it, because through their life it never had that alluring charm
in their eyes which any object must possess to induce a man to make
an effort to attain it. The present age abounds in men of this class,,
and is diseased by a kind of wisdom which carries us forward pro
forma, as cripples are borne along a race-course, to the goal of knowl-

4

74 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

edge, when, at the same time, it could never enable us to advance
toward this gaol by our own efforts, before our feet had been healed."

In other parts of the book he attacks governments as indifferent to
the welfare of the people. " The lower classes of Europe, (he says,)
are neglected and wretched : most of those who stand sufficiently
near to be able to help them, have no time for thinking what may be
for their welfare — they have always something to do quite different
from this."

From this, the second and polemical element of the book, I pass to

the third and positive one, namely, the kind of education by which

, Pestalozzi proposes to replace the false education of our time. This

l might in some measure be anticipated from the polemical passages

1 which have been cited.

He thus enunciates the problem which he proposed to himself to
solve : " In the empirical researches which 1 made in reference to my
subject, I did not start from any positive system ; I was not ac-
ouainted with any one; I simply put to myself the question, What
would you do, if you wanted to give a single child all the theoretical
knowledge and practical skill which he requires in order to be able to
attend properly to the great concerns of life, and so attain to inward
contentment ?"

Theoretical knowledge and practical skill constitute, accordingly,
the most important subjects of the work. They are treated with u
special relation to the two questions, — What knowledge and skill do
children require ? and, How are these best imparted to them ? The
aim is to point out the proper object of education, and the way to
attain that object.

Of practical skill, however, there is comparatively very little said,
notwithstanding that Pestalozzi sets so high a value upon it. " Knowl-
edge without skill, (he says,) is perhaps the most fatal gift which an
evil genius has bestowed upon the present age." But Festal* i/x.i'd
ideas in relation to practical skill, and the method of attaining it,
seem to have been still indistinct.

On the other hand, he is quite at home in the region of theoretical
knowledge : to show the starting-point, the road, and the destination,
in the journey through this region, is the main design of his work.

His polemic against senseless talking shows that he had sought
and found the real root of the tree of which words are the spiritual
blossoms.

The beginning of all knowledge, according to Pestalozzi, is observa-
tion ; the last point to be attained, a clear notion. He says: "If I
look back and ask myself what 1 really have done toward the

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. tj ^

improvement of the methods of elementary instruction, I find that, .1
recognizing observation as the absolute basis of all knowledge, I have
established the first and most important principle of instruction, and
that, setting aside all particular systems of instructions, I have endeav-
ored to discover what ought to be the character of the instruction
itself, and what are the fundamental laws according to which the edu-
cation of the human race must be determined by nature." In another
place, he requires it to be acknowledged, "that observation is the ab-
solute basis of all knowledge, in other words, that all knowledge must
proceed from observation and must admit of being retraced to that
source."

But what does Pestalozzi understand by observation? "It Is, (he
says,) simply directing the senses to outward objects, and exciting con-
sciousness of the impression produced on them by those objects."
He refers, of course, principally to the sense of sight. But the ear is
not to be neglected. " When sounds are produced so as to be heard
by the child, and its consciousness of the impression which these
sounds make on its mind through the sense of hearing is aroused,
this, to the child, is just as much observation, as when objects are
placed before its eyes, and consciousness is awakened by the impres-
sion which the objects make on the sense of sight. By the aid of
'his spelling book, therefore, the child's ear is to be familiarized with
the series of elementary sounds which constitutes the foundation of
a knowledge of language, just as it is to be made acquainted wi:h
visible objects by the aid of his Book for Mothers.

According to this, observation would mean every impression whicL
the mind receives through the eye and the ear.

Does Pestalozzi exclude the remaining senses ? No ; for he fre-
quently, speaks of the impressions of the jive senses, and he says that
the understanding collects the impressions which the senses receive
from external nature into a whole, or into a notion, and then develops
this idea until it attains clearness. And elsewhere he says that the
mechanical form of all instruction should be regulated by the eternal
laws according to which the human mind rises from the perceptions
of sense to clear notions.

Pestalozzi repeatedly dwells upon this process of intellectual
development.

Above every thing, he will have attention given to the first step in
the process, namely observation. Care is to be taken that the objeccs
are seen separately by the children", not dimly at a distance, but close
at hand and distinctly ; then also that there shall be placed before
the children, not abnoimal, but characteristic specimens of any class

76 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PE8TALOZZI.

of objects — such as will convey a correct idea of the thing and of its;
most important properties. Thus, for example, a lame, one-eyed, or
six-fingered man, he says, would not be proper to convey the idea of
the human form.

Out of the observation of an object, the first thing that arises, he
says, is the necessity of naming it; from naming it, we pass on to
determining its properties, that is to description ; out of a clear des-
cription is finally developed the definition — the distinct idea of the
object. The full maturity of this, the last fruit of all instruction, de-
pends materially on the vigorous germination of the seed sown in the
first instance — on the amount of wisdom exercised in guiding the
children to habits of observation. Definitions not founded on obser
vations, he says, produce a superficial and unprofitable kind of
knowledge.

Just when we begin to think that we understand Pestalozzi's views,
he again leads us into uncertainty as to the idea which he attaches to
observation.

He says the idea had only lately struck him, " that all our knowl-
edge arises out of number, form, and words." On this triple basis,,
he says, education must proceed ; and —

" 1. It must teach the children to look attentively at every object
which they are made to perceive as unity, that is, as separated from,
those other objects with which it appears in connection.

2. It must make them acquainted with the form of every object,
that is, its size and proportion.

3. It must teach them as early as possible the names and words
applicable to all the objects with which they are acquainted."

Pestalozzi found it difficult, however, to answer the question, " Why
are not all the other properties which the five senses enable us to per-
ceive in objects, just as much elements of our knowledge, as number,
form, and name ?" His answer is, "All possible objects have neces-
sarily number, form, and name ; but the remaining properties which
the senses enable us to perceive are not possessed by any object in
common with all others, but this property is shared with one object,
and that with another."

When Pestalozzi made form a category to embrace all and every
thing, he only thought of the visible, as is evidenced by the further
development of his instruction in form, which deals chiefly with the
measuring of visible objects.

But there are innumerable observations which have nothing what-
ever to do with form and number ; for example, tasting honey,,
smelling roses, &c. .

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

The prominence which Pestalozzi gave to form and number caused
him to undertake a new treatment of the subjects of geometry and
arithmetics Subsequently he divided geometry into instruction i i
'form and instruction in spaces, for the reason that we perceive shape
and size, (mathematical quality and quantity,) independently of each
other ; drawing he made a part of the instruction in form — writing a
part of drawing.

But what became of Pestalozzi's principle, that observation is ^he
foundation of all intelligence, when he thus gave an undue prominence
to form and number, and neglected all other properties? Suppose
that we put a glass cube into the hands of a child and he observes in
respect to it nothing else, but that it has the cubic form, and, over and
above this, that it is one cube, — so far this glass cube is in no way
distinguished from a wooden one. But if I require to take notice of
other properties, such as color, transparency, weight. <fcc., in order
that I may form a correct idea of the glass cube, as a separate object,
and so describe it that it shall be distinguished with certainty from
every other cube, — then I must fix my attention, not only on form and
number, but on all apparent properties, as elements in a complete
observation.

Lastly, language itself has nothing to do with observation. Why
should I not be able to form a perfectly correct notion of an object
that has no name — for instance a newly-discovered plant ? Language
only gives us the expression for the impressions of the senses ; in it
is reflected the whole world of our perceptions. " It is," as Pestalozzi
rightly observes, " the reflex of all the impressions which nature's
entire domain has made on the human race." But what does he go
on to say ? " Therefore I make use of it, and endeavor, by the
guidance of its uttered sounds, to reproduce in the child the self-same
impressions which, in the human race, have occasioned and formed
these sounds. Great is the gift of language. Tt gives to the child in
one moment what nature required thousands of years to give man."

In that case, every child would be a rich heir of antiquity, without
the trouble of acquisition; words would be current notes for the
things which they designate. But both nature and history protest
against payment in such currency, and give only to him that ha*,h.
Does not Pestalozzi himself repeatedly protest against this very thing ?
" The Christian people of our quarter of the world, (he says,) have
sunk into these depths, because in their lower school establishments |
the mind has been loaded with a burden of empty words, which has 1
not only effaced the impressions of nature, but has even destroyed the
inward susceptibility for such impressions."

78 I'IFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

Pestalozzi's further treatment of the instruction in language clearly
proves that, contrary to his own principles, he really ascribed a mag-
ical power to words — that he put them more or less in the place of
observation — and, (to speak with a figure,) that he made the reflected
image of a thing equal to the thing itself.

As this error of Pestalozzi's is of the greatest consequence, I will
examine it more closely. In the instruction in language, he begins
with lessons on sounds ; these are followed by lessons on words ; and
these again by lessons on language.

I. LESSONS ON SOUNDS. — ''The spelling book, (says Pestalozzi,).
must contain the entire range of sounds of which the language con-
sists, and portions of it should be repeated daily in every family, not
only by the child that is going through the exercises to learn how to
spell, but also by mothers, within hearing of the child in the cradle,
in order that these sounds may, by frequent repetition, be so deeply
impressed upon the memory of the child, even while it is yet unable
to pronounce a single one of them, that they shall never be forgotten.
No one imagines to what a degree the attention of infants is aroused
by the repetition of such simple sounds as ba, ba, ba, da, da, da, ma,
ma, ma, la, la, la, <fec., or what a charm such repetition has for
them."

And so the child in the cradle is to have no rest from elementary
teaching ; the cradle songs sung to it are to consist of such delightful
bawling and bleating as ba, ba, ba, <fec., which might well scare away
the child's guardian angels.

As soon as the child begins to talk, it is to "repeat some sequences
of these sounds every day ;" then follow exercises in spelling.

II. "LESSONS IN WORDS, or rather, LESSONS IN NAMES." — Ac-
cording to Pestalozzi, " all the most important objects in the world
are brought under the notice of the child in the Book for Mothers."

"Lessons in names consist in giving the children lists of the names
of the most important objects in all three kingdoms of nature, in his-
tory, in geography, and in the pursuits and relations of mankind.
These lists of words lire placed in the hands of the child, merely as
exercises in learning to read, immediately after he has gone through
his spelling book ; and experience has shown me that it is possible
to make the children so thoroughly acquainted with these lists of
words, that they shall be able to repeat them from memory, merely
in the time that is required to perfect them in reading : the gain of
what at this age is so complete a knowledge of lists of names so va-
rious and comprehensive, is immeasurable, in facilitating the subsequent,
instruction of the children."

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. ^9

Here again it is not even remotely hinted that the children ought
to know the things named ; words, mere words, are put in the place
of observation.

3. LESSONS IN LANGUAGE. — The highest aim of language, accord-
ing to Pestalozzi's idea, is to lead us from dim perceptions to clear
notions, and that by the following process : —

1. "We acquire a general knowledge of an object, and name it as
unity, as an object.

2. We gradually become conscious of its distinguishing qualities,
and learn how to name them.

3. We receive through language the power of designating these-
qualities of the objects more precisely by means of verbs and
adverbs."

The first step in this process is, as we have seen, the object of the
Pestalozzian lessons in names ; but, when viewed more closely, the
lessons are found to consist, not in the naming of objects arising out
of knowing them, but in the names for their own sake.

In reference to the second operation, when Pestalozzi writes on the
black-board the word "eel," and adds the qualities, "slippery, worm-
shaped, thick-skinned," the children by no means become conscious
of the distinguishing qualities of an eel, and learn to name them,,
through observing an eel ; they rather get adjectives to the noun
"eel." Of the process by which these adjectives arise from the obser-
vation of the qualities which they express, there is again nothing said.

This neglect of observation is still more striking, when Pestalozzi,
further on, classifies what is to be learned under the following heads :

1. Geography. 3. Physics. 5. Physiology.

2. History. 4. Natural History.

Each of these five heads he divides again into forty subdivisions, so
that he makes two hundred subdivisions. He now proceeds to give
lists of words in all these subjects in alphabetical order, which
lists are to be impressed upon the childrens' memories, "till it is im-
possible they should be forgotten." Afterward, this alphabetical
nomenclature is to be transformed into a "scientific" one. "I do not
know, (says Pestalozzi.) whether it is necessary to illustrate the matter
further by an example ; it appears to me almost superfluous : never-
theless, I will do so, on account of the novelty of form. E. G. One
of the subdivisions of Europe is Germany : the child is first of all
made well acquainted with the division of Germany into ten circles,
BO that he shall not be able to forget it; then the names of the towns
of Germany are placed before him, at first in mere alphabetical order
for him to read, but each of these towns is previously marked with.

80 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ1.

the number of the circle in which it lies. As soon as the child can
read the names of the towns fluently, he is taught the connection of
the numbers with the subdivisions of the main heads, and in a few
hours he is able to determine the place of the entire number of Ger-
man towns in these subdivisions. For example, suppose the names
of the following places in Germany are set before him, marked by
numbers : —

Aachan, (Aix-la-Cha-
pelle,) 8.
Aalen, 3.
Abenberg, 4.
Aberthan, 11.
Acken, 10.
Adersbach, 11.
Agler, 1.
Ahrbergen, 10.
Aigremont, 8.
Ala, 1.

Allenbach, 5.
Allendorf. 5.
Allersperg, 2.
Alschaufen, 3.
Alsleben, 10.
Altbunzlau, 11.
Altena, 8.
Altenau, 10.
Altenberg, 9.
Altenburg, 9.

Altensalza, 10.
Altkirchen, 8.
Altona, 10.
Altorf, 1.
Altranstadt, 9.
Altwasser, 13.
Alkerdissen, 8.
Amberg, 2.
Ambras, 1.
Amoneburg, 6.
Andernach, 6.

He reads them all in the following manner : —

Aachen lies in the Westphalian circle ;

Abenberg in the Franconian circle ;

Acken in the Lower Saxony circle ; and so on.

In this manner the child is evidently enabled, at first sight of the
number or mark referring to the subdivisions of the main head, to
determine the place of each word of the list in the scientific classifi-
cation of the subject, and thus, as I before said, to change the alpha-
betical into a scientific nomenclature."

It is quite unnecessary to give a refutation of these views.*

Further on in the book, there follow some directions "how to ex-
plain more fully to the pupil the nature, qualities, and functions of all
the objects with which the lessons in names have made him ac-
quainted, and which have already been explained to him, to a certain
extent, by placing their qualities side by side with their names." For
this purpose, the mother is to read to the child certain sentences, and
the child is to repeat them after her. Many of these sentences would
be quite unintelligible to a child ; for instance, " The creditor desires
payment," " The right must be maintained." They are mere exercises
in reading, not based in the slightest degree on observation.

We have seen that Pestalozzi fixed his attention chiefly on the
principle that instruction must be based on observation, out of which
the clear idea is at last developed. He says that we are dazzled by
the charm of a language, "which we speak without having any real

* Observe, too, how Pestalozzi has taken the names of any obscure places that occurred
to him at the moment, such as Aberthan, Ala, &c. Out of the 31 places whose names are
Itiven, five at most would deserve to be included in a school geography. Not a word is said
ibout maps.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 8J

•knowledge of the ideas conveyed by the words which we allow to run
through our mouths.'' He combats "all scientific teaching which is
analyzed, explained, and dictated by men who have not learnt to
think and speak in harmony with the laws of nature," whose " defi-
nitions must be conjured into the soul like a deus ex machind, or
must be blown into the ears as by stage-prompters ;" the effect of
which is that men " sink into a miserable mode of education, fit only for
forming piay-actors." He speaks with great warmth against "defini-
tions not founded on observation." " A definition, (he says,) is the
simplest expression of clear ideas, but for the child it contains truth
only in so far as he has a clear and comprehensive view of the
groundwork of observation on which these ideas are based ; whenever
he is left without the greatest clearness in the observation of a natural
object which has been defined to him, he only learns to play with
words like so many counters, deceives himself, and places a blind be-
lief in sounds which will convey to him no idea, nor give rise to any
other thought, except just this, that he has uttered certain sounds.*
ffinc illce lacrymce.

These excellent principles can not receive too much attention ; but
if Pestalozzi's own method of instruction be squared by them, it will
be found to run quite counter to them. He begins, not with obser-
vations, but with words; with him, substantives stand in the plac'e
of the observation of objects, adjectives in the place of the observa-
tion of the properties of objects. His polemic against empty word- ^
wisdom hits therefore his own method of instruction. Fichte says
very truly in regard to Pestalozzi's idea : " In the field of objective
knowledge, which relates to external objects, the acquaintance with
the literal sign that represents the clearness and definiteness of the
knowledge, adds nothing whatever for the student himself; it only
heightens the value of the knowledge with reference, to its communi-
cation to others, which is a totally different matter. The clearness
of such knowledge can result only from observation, and that which
we can at pleasure reproduce in all its parts, just as it really is, in the
imagination, is perfectly known, whether we have a word for it or not.

We are even of the opinion that this perfection of observation

* Pestalozzi also shows briefly and truly that none but those who have a thorough knowl-
edge of a subject can possibly give a real explanation of it in words. " If I have not a clear
perception of a thing," he says, "I can not say with certainty what, its attributes are, much
less what it is ; I can not even describe it, much less define it. If then a third person puts
into my mouth the words by means of which some other person, who had a clear concep-
tion of the thing, makes it intelligible to people of his own stamp, it is not on this account
any clearer to me ; but it is clear to the other person and not to me so long as the words of
this person are not for me what they are for him- the definite expression of the full
clearness of an idea."

6

82 L1FE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

should precede the acquaintance with the literal sign, and that the
opposite way leads directly to that world of fog and shadows, and to-
that early use of the tongue, both of which are so justly hateful to
Pestalozzi ; nay even', that he who is only concerned to know the word
at the earliest possible moment, and who deems his knowledge com-
plete so soon as he knows it, lives precisely in that world of fog, and
is only concerned for its extension."

We should have expected from Pestalozzi some directions, first, how
to exercise the senses of children, and cultivate in them the power of
rapidly arriving at clear conceptions of objects ; second, how we should
teach them to express in language the impressions of their senses — to
translate their mute observations into words.

But Pestalozzi does give some hints, particularly as to the method
in which instruction in natural history should be imparted. We must
not allow the child to go into the woods and meadows, in order to
become acquainted with trees and plants. " Trees and plants, (he
says,) do not there stand in the order best adapted to make the
character of each class apparent, and to prepare the mind by the first
impressions of the objects for a general acquaintance with this de-
partment of science. It would make me too far away from my pur-
.^ , pose, were I to refute this excessive pedantry of method, (with the
best will in the world, I can find no better word for it,) against which
every mind that has any degree of freshness, and is alive to the
beauties of nature, will at once rise up in condemnation.

But, though nothing further is said, in the work before us, on the
education of the senses, and the instruction in language connected
therewith, Pestalozzi refers us to his " Book for Mothers," for more
on these points. His principle, that the learning of a child must com-
mence with what lies near to it, appears to have led him to the idea,
that no natural object lay nearer to a child than its own body, and
that therefore it should commence by observing that. The Book for
Mothers describes the body, with all its limbs and parts of limbs,
down to the minutest joints. Few persons, (I do not speak of sur-
geons,) are so well acquainted with the structure of the body as the
child is to be made. Few people will understand, for instance, the
following description : " The middle bones of the index finger are
placed outside, on the middle joints of the index finger, between the
back and middle members of the index finger," &c. The mother is
to go through the book, word for word, with the child, making
constant reference to the child's own body.

It was a great mistake on the part of Pestalozzi, to select the
child's body as the first object on which it should exercise its faculties

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. Q3

of sight and speech, and, generally, the so-called exercises in observa-
tion employed by Pestalozzi and his school, ought properly to be re-
garded as exercises in reading, in which the object is far more to
make the children acquainted with words and sentences than to give
them distinct and lasting impressions, and a real knowledge of the
thing spoken of. He who yesterday saw a man, with whose image
he was so strongly impressed that he can to-day depict it from his
inward conception — he who to-day can correctly sing from memory
a melody which he heard yesterday — he who yesterday smelt vine-
gar, and to-day feels the water gather in his mouth at the recollection
of the smell — gives proof of his observation by the conception
which he has formed, even though he does not translate that concep-
tion into words. The generality of the exercises of Pestalozzi and
his followers never produced such an imagination of perceptions as
this.

Toward the conclusion of the work, Pestalozzi asks himself: "How
does the question of religion stand with relation to the principles,
which I have adopted as true in regard to the development of the
human race in general ?"

It is difficult to follow him in his answer to this question. Every
thing that is lofty in man is founded, according to him, in the rela-
tionship which subsists between the infant and its mother. The feel-
ings of gratitude, confidence and love in the child toward the mother
gradually unfold themselves, and are, at a later period, transferred by
the child, on the admonition of the mother, to God. This, with >-
Pestalozzi, is the only way of training the child in religion. It pre-
supposes a mother pure as an angel, and a child originally quite in-
nocent. The mother is also, like a saint, to take the child under her
wings, when it grows up and is enticed to evil by the world, which is
not innocent, "as God first created it." According to this view,
motherless orphans must remain entirely without religious training.
There is scarcely a word about the father ; just once he is mentioned,
and then it is said that he is " tied to his workshop," and can not give
up his time to the child.

In short, the mother is represented as the mediator between God
and the child. But not once is it mentioned that she herself needs a
mediator ; not once in the whole book does the name of Christ occur.
It is nowhere said that the mother is a Christian mother, a member
of the church, and that she teaches the child what she, as a member
of the church, has learnt. Holy writ is ignored ; the mother draws
her theology out of her own heart. There pervades this work there-
fore a decided alienation from Christ. But we shall afterward see.

Q4 LIFE Ai\D EDUCATIONAL SYSTKM OF PESTALOZZI.

tliat it would be unjust to measure Pestalozzi's ideas on religious in-
struction by the untenable theory brought forward in the last chapters
of this work.

Having thus considered the contents of this book, which was writ-
ten and had its origin in Burgdorf, which contains fundamental edu-
cational principles of the highest value and importance, side by side
with the most glaring educational blunders and absurdities, it will be
of the greatest interest to hear how Pestalozzi performed his work as
a teacher, and as the director of his institution, in Burgdorf. We
shall obtain information on this point from a small but in many
respects highly interesting and valuable pamphlet, entitled "A Short
Sketch of my Educational Life, by John Ramsauer."* The writer,
who was the son of a tradesman, and was born in 1790 at Herissu in
the Swiss canton of Appenzell, migrated thence in 1800, along with
forty-four other children from ten to fourteen years of age, at a time
when several cantons, Appenzell among the rest, had "been totally
desolated in consequence of the French revolution ; and he came
thus to Schleumen, not far from Burgdorf. While at Schleuraen, he
attended the lower burgh school of Burgdorf, in which, as already
stated, Pestalozzi taught. He gives the following account of Pesta-
lozzi's teaching : —

" I got about as much regular schooling as the other scholars, namely, none
at all f but his, (Pestalozzi's,) sacred zeal, his devoted love, which caused him
to be entirely unmindful of himself, his serious and depressed state of mind,
which struck even the children, made the deepest impression on me, and knit
my childlike and grateful heart to his forever.

It is impossible to give a clear picture of this school as a whole ; ah1 that I
can do is to sketch a few partial views.

Pestalozzi's intention was that all the instruction given in this school should
start from form, number, and language, and should have a constant refer-
ence to these elements. There was no regular plan hi existence, neither was
there a time-table, for which reason Pestalozzi did not tie himself down to any
particular hours, but generally went on with the same subject for two or three
hours together. There were about sixty of us, boys and girls, of ages varying
from eight to fifteen years; the school-hours were from 8 till 11 in the morning,
and from 2 to 4 in the afternoon. The instruction which we received was en-
tirely limited to drawing, ciphering, and exercises in language. We neither
read nor wrote, and accordingly we had neither reading nor writing books ; nor
were we required to commit to memory any thing secular or sacred.

For the drawing, we had neither copies to draw from nor directions what to
draw, but only crayons and boards ; and we were told to draw " what we
liked " during the tune that Pestalozzi was reading aloud sentences about natural
history, (as exercises in language.) But we did not know what to draw, and
so it happened that some drew men and women, some houses, and others strings,
knots, arabesques, or whatever else came into their heads. Pestalozzi never
looked to see what we had drawn, or rather scribbled ; but the clothes of all the
scholars, especially the sleeves and elbows, gave unmistakable evidence that
they had been making due use of their crayons.

For the ciphering, we had between every two scholars a small table

* When Pestalozzi himself speaks of his teaching, he is too apt to mix up what he intended
•with what he really effected.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. §5

nasted on mill-board, on which in quadrangular fields were marked dots, which
we had to count, to add together, to subtract, to multiply, and divide by one
another. It was out of these exercises that Kriisi and Buss constructed, first,
the Unity Table, and afterward the Fraction Tables. But, as Pestalozzi only
allowed the scholars to go over and to repeat the exercises in their turns, and
never questioned them nor set them tasks, these exercises, which were other-
wise very good, remained without any great utility. He had not sufficient pa-
tience to allow things to be gone over again, or to put questions ; and in his
enormous zeal for the instruction of the whole school, he seemed not to concern
himself in the slightest degree for the individual scholar.

The best things we had with him were the exercises in language, at least
those which he gave us on the paper-hangings of the school-room, and which
were real exercises in observation. These hangings were very old and a good
deal torn, and before these we had frequently to stand for two or three hours
together, and say what we observed in respect to the form, number, position
and color of the figures painted on them, and the holes torn in them, and to
express what we observed in sentences gradually increasing in length. On
such occasions, he would say: "Boys, what do you see?" (He never named
the girls.)

Answer. A hole, (or rent,) in the wainscoat.
Pestalozzi. Very good. Now repeat after me : —

I see a hole in the wainscoat.

I see a long hole in the wainscoat.

Through the hole I see the wall.

Through the long narrow hole I see the wall
Pestalozzi. Repeat after me : —

I see figures on the paper-hangings.

I see black figures on the paper-hangings.

I see round black figures on the paper-hangings.

I see a square yellow figure on the paper-hangings.

Besides the square yellow figure, I see a black round figure.

The square figure is joined to the round one by a thick black stroke.
And so on.

Of less utility were those exercises in language which he took from natural
history, and in which we had to repeat after him, and at the same time to draw,
as I have already mentioned. He would say : —

Amphibious animals. Crawling amphibious animals.

Creeping amphibious animals.

Monkeys. Long-tailed monkeys.

Short-tailed monkeys.
And so on.

We did not understand a word of this, for not a word was explained, and it
was all spoken hi such a sing-song tone, and so rapidly and indistinctly, that it
would have been a wonder if any one had understood any thing of it, and had
learnt any thing from it ; besides, Pestalozzi cried out so dreadfully loud and so
continuously, that he could not hear us repeat after him, the less so as he never
waited for us when he had read out a sentence, but went on without intermis-
sion and read off a whole page at once. What he thus read out was drawn up
on a hdlf-sheet of large-sized mill-board, and our repetition consisted for the
most part in saying the last word or syllable of each phrase, thus " monkeys — mon-
keys," or "keys — keys." There was never any questioning or recapitulation.

As Pestalozzi in his zeal, did not tie himself to any particular time, we gene-
rally went on till eleven o'clock with whatever he had commenced at eight, and
by ten o'clock he was always tired and hoarse. We knew when it was eleven
by the noise of other school children in the street, and then usually we all ran
out without bidding good-bye.

Although Pestalozzi had at all times strictly prohibited his assistants from
using any kind of corporal punishment, yet he by no means dispensed with it
himself, but very often dealt out boxes on the ears right and left. But most of
the scholars rendered his life very unhappy, so much so that I felt a real sym-
pathy for him, and kept myself all the more quiet. This he soon observed, and
many a time he took me for a walk at eleven o'clock, for in fine weather he
went every day to the banks of the river Emme, and for recreation and amuse-
ment looked for different kinds of stones. I had to take part in this occupation

$6 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI

myself, although it appeared to me a strange one, seeing that millions of stones
lay there, and I did not know which to search for. He himself was acquainted
with only a few kinds, but nevertheless he dragged along home from this place
•every day with his pocket and his pocket handkerchief full of stones, though
after they were deposited at home, they were never looked at again. He re-
tained this fancy throughout his life. It was not an easy thing to find a single
entire pocket handkerchief in the whole of the institution at Burgdorf, for all
•of them had been torn with carrying stones.

There is one thing which, though indeed unimportant, I must not forget to
mention. The first time that I was taken in to Pestalozzi's school he cordially
welcomed and kissed me, then he quickly assigned me a place, and the whole
morning did not speak another word to me, but kept on reading out sentences
without halting for a moment. As I did not understand a bit of what \\ as
.going on, when I heard the word "monkey, monkey," come every time at the
end of a sentence, and as Pestalozzi, who was very ugly, ran about the room
-as though he was wild, without a coat and without a neck-cloth, his long shirt-
sleeves hanging down over his arms and hands, which swung negligently about,
I was seized with real terror, and might soon have believed that he "himself
was a monkey. During the first few days too, I was all the more afraid of him,
as he had, on my arrival, given me a kiss with his strong, prickly beard, the
first kiss which I remembered having received in my life.

Ramsauer does not relate so much about the instruction given by
the other teachers. Among the fruits of their instruction were two
of the three elementary works which appeared in 1803, under Pesta-
lozzi's name: (1.) "The ABC of Observation, or Lessons on the
Relations of Size," (2.) "Lessons on the Relations of Number." (3.)
The third elementary work alone was written by Pestalozzi himself;
it is the one already mentioned, the "Book for Mothers, or Guide
for Mothers in teaching their children to observe and speak."

The institution at Burgdorf attracted more and more notice ; people
came from a distance to visit it, induced particularly by Pestalozzi's
work, " How Gertrude teaches her children." M. Decan Ith, who was
sent by the Helvetian government in 1802, to examine the institution,
made a very favorable report on it, in consequence of which the
government recognized it as a public institution, and granted small
salaries to the teachers out of the public funds.

But that government was dissolved by Napoleon the very next
year, and the constitution of the cantons restored. The Bernese
government now fixed on the castle of Burgdorf, as the seat of one
.of the chief magistrates of the canton ; and Pestalozzi had to clear
out of it, on the 22d of August, 1804.

In 1802, during Pestalozzi's stay at Burgdorf, Napoleon required
the Swiss people to send a deputation to him at Paris. Two districts
chose Pestalozzi as a deputy. Before his departure, he published a
pamphlet, entitled " Views on the Objects to which the Legislature
of Helvetia has to direct its attention." He put a memorandum on
the wants of Switzerland into the hands of the First Consul, who
paid as little attention to it as he did to Pestalozzi's educational
efforts, declaring that he could not mix himself up with the teach' og
of the ABC.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 3*7

The Bernese government gave up the monastery of Buchsee to
Pestalozzi for his institution, and had the building properly arranged
for him. Close by Buchsee lies the estate of Hofwyl, where Fellen-
berg resided, and to whom the teachers gave the principal direction of
the institution, "not without my consent," says Pestalozzi, "but to
my profound mortification."

Notwithstanding, Pestalozzi allows Fellenberg to have possessed in
a high degree the talent of governing. In Fellenberg the intellect
predominated, as in Pestalozzi the feelings ; in the institution at
Buchsee, therefore, " that love and warmth was missing which, inspir-
ing all who came within its influence, rendered every one at Burg-
dorf so happy and cheerful : at Buchsee every thing was, in this
respect, totally different. Still Buchsee had this advantage, that in it
more order prevailed, and more was learned than at Burgdorf."

Pestalozzi perceived that his institution would not become inde-
pendent of Fellenberg, so long as it should remain at Buchsee, and
he gladly accepted, therefore, a highly advantageous proposal on the
part of the inhabitants of Yverdun, that he should remove his insti-
tution to their town. He repaired thither, with some of his teachers
and eight pupils ; half a year later, the remaining teachers followed,
having, as Pestalozzi remarks, soon found the government of Fellen-
berg far more distasteful than the want of government, under him,
had ever been to them.

We now enter on a period when Pestalozzi and his institution ac-
quired a European reputation, when Pestalozzian teachers had schools
in Madrid, Naples, and St. Petersburg, when the emperor of Russia
gave the venerable old man a personal proof of his favor and esteem,
and when Fichte saw in Pestalozzi and his labors the commencement
of a renovation of humanity.

But to write the history of this period is a task of unusual difficul-
ty. On one side stand extravagant admirers of Pestalozzi, on the oth-
er bitter censurers ; a closer examination shows us that both are
right, and both wrong. A fearful dissension arises, in the institution
itself, among the teachers ; at the head of the two parties stand
Niederer and Schmid, who abuse each other in a manner unheard of.
With which party shall we side ; or shall we side with neither, or
with both ?

If we ask to which party Pestalozzi inclined, or whether he held
himself above the parties, and then go entirely according to his judg-
ment, our embarrassment will only be increased. He pronounced a
very different opinion on the same man at different times : at one time
be saw in him a helping angel, before whom he humbled himself

88 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

more than was seemly, and from whom he expected every benefit to
his institution ; at another time, he saw in him an almost fiendish
being, who was only bent on ruining the institution.

If any fancy that they have a sure source of information in the
account drawn up by Pestalozzi and Nieder, and published in 1807,
namely, the " Report on the State of the Pestalozzian Institution, ad-
dressed to the Parents of the Pupils and to the Public ;" they will be
undeceived by some remarks which Pestalozzi himself added to that
report at a later period, in the collected edition of his works, but still
more so in, u The Fortunes of my Life." This work is altogether at
variance with those which give a high degree of praise to the Pesta-
lozzian Institution, in its former condition. From the year in which
the dispute between Niederer and Schmid, broke out, (1810,) most
of those who give any information on the subject range themselves on
Niederer's side ; while Pestalozzi himself, from the year 1815 till his
death, holds unchangeably with Schmid.

I should despair of ever being able to thread my way in this laby-
rinth with any degree of certainty, were it not for the fact that I re-
sided some time in the institution, namely, from October, 1809, till May»
1810, and there became more intimately acquainted with persons and
circumstances than I could otherwise have been.

A friend, (Rudolph von Przystanowski,) accompanied me to Yver-
dun, where we arrived toward the end of October. It was in the
evening of a cold rainy day that we alighted at the hotel called the-
Red House. The next morning we went to the old castle, built by
Charles the Bold, which with its four great round towers incloses
a courtyard. Here we met a multitude of boys ; we were conducted
to Pestalozzi. He was dressed in the most negligent manner : he
had on an old grey overcoat, no waistcoat, a pair of breeches, and
stockings hanging down over his slippers ; his coarse bushy black hair
uncombed and frightful. His brow was deeply furrowed, his dark
brown eyes were now soft and mild, now full of fire. You hardly
noticed that the old man, so full of geniality, was ugly ; you read in
his singular features long continued suffering and great hopes.

Soon after, we saw Niederer,* who gave me the impression of a
young Roman Catholic priest ; Kriisi,* who was somewhat corpu-
lent, fair, blue-eyed, mild and benevolent ; and Schmid,* who was, if
possible, more cynical in his dress than Pestalozzi, with sharp features
and eyes like those of a bird of prey.

At that time 137 pupils, of ages varying from six to seventeen

* A biographical sketch of Niederer, Kriisi, and Schmid, will be given at the close of th»
life of Pestalozzi.— ED.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEiM OF PfcSTALOZZI. gg,

years, lived in the institution ; 28 lodged in the town, but dined in
the institution. There were in all, therefore, 165 pupils. Among
them there were 78 Swiss ; the rest were Germans, French, Russians,
Italians, Spaniards, and Americans. Fifteen teachers resided in the
institution, nine of whom were Swiss teachers, who had been educated
there. Besides these, there were 32 persons who were studying the
method : seven of them were natives of Switzerland. The interior
of the building made a mournful impression on me ; but the situation
was extremely beautiful. An extensive meadow separates it from the
southern end of the glorious lake of Neufchatel, on the west side of
which rises the Jura, range of mountains, covered with vineyards.
From the heights of the Jura, above the village of Granson, rendered
famous by the defeat of Charles the Bold, you survey on the one
side the entire chain of the Alps, from Mount Pilatus, near Lucerne,
to Mount Blanc ; on the other side you see far away into France.

A short time after my arrival, I went to live in the institution,
where I took my meals, and slept along with the children. If I
wanted to do any work for myself, I had to do it while standing at a
writing desk in the midst of the tumult of one of the classes. None
of the teachers had a sitting-room to himself. I was fully determined
to devote all my energies thenceforth to the institution, and accord-
ingly I had brought with me Freddy Reichardt, the brother of my
future wife, a boy of eight years, and now placed him among the
other scholars. My position was well suited to enable me to compare
the reports on the institution with what I daily saw and experienced.
The higher my expectations had been raised by that report, the deep-
er was my pain, as I was gradually undeceived ; I even thought I saw
the last hopes of my native land disappear.

It is scarcely necessary for me to particularize the respects in which
I was undeceived ; they may be learnt from Pestalozzi's notes to the
latter copy of his report, but especially from his work, "The Fortunes
of my Life." Nevertheless I will advert to one or two principal
points.

I will particularly advert to what is said in the report about tl '
spirit of the institution, which is represented as being similar to thao
which pervades a family.

" We may with a good conscience, declare publicly, that the children in our
institution are happy and cheerful ; that their innocence is preserved, their reli-
gious disposition cherished, their mind formed, ther knowledge increased, their
hearts elevated. The arrangements which have been adopted for attaining these
objects possess a quiet inward power. They are based principally on the benev-
olent and amiable character which distinguishes the teachers of our house, and
which is supported by a vigorous activity. There reigns throughout the entire-
institution the spirit of a great domestic union, in which, according to the re-
quirements of such a union, a pure paternal and fraternal feeling every where

4)0 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

shines forth. The children feel themselves free, their aeiivity finds even a pow-
erful charm in their employments ; the confidence reposed in them, and the af-
fection shown toward them, elevate their sentiments." "The life in the house
is, to a rare extent, a school for cultivating domestic affection and domestic un-
ity." " All the teachers in common, acting as an organized whole, do for all the
children what a careful mother does for the few children of her own family.'1
The body of teachers " attains the. most perfect unity of thought and action,
and appears to the children as only one person."

" In general, it is to be remarked that we seek throughout to awaken and to
footer the spirit of peace, of love, and of mutual brotherly fellowship. The dis-
position of the great body of our inmates is good. A spirit of strength, of re-
pose, and of endeavor rests on the whole. There is much in our midst ihnt is
eminently good. Some pupils evince an angelic disposition, full of love and of a
presentiment of higher thoughts and a higher existence. The bad ones do not
feel themselves comfortable in the midst of our life and labor ; on the other
land, every spark of good and noble feeling which still glimmers even in the
l»a<l ours eneonraged and developed. The children are in general neither har-
•dened by punishment, nor rendered vain and superficial by rewards. The mild
torl>e;iran< v of the most amiable household has the most undisturbed play in our
midst. The children's feelings are not lightly wounded. The weak 'an- not
made to com] 'an- themselves with the strong, but with themselves. We never
ask a pupil if he can do what another does. We only ask him if he can do a
'hinu. J!;it \\e always ask him if he con doit perfectly. As littleof the strug-
gle of competition takes place between one pupil and another, as between
affectionate brothers and sisters who live with a loving mother in a happy
condition."

" We live together united in brotherly love, free and cheerful, and are, in re-
spect to that which we aeknowledge as the one thing needful, one heart and
one soul. We may also say that our pupils are one heart and one soul with us.
They feel that we treat them in a fatherly manner; they feel that we serve them,
and that we are glad to serve them ; they feel that we do not merely instruct
them ; they feel that for their education we give life and motion to every thing
in them that belongs to the character of man. They also hang with their
whole hearts on our actions. They live in the constant consciousness of their
own strength."

Must not even a sober reader of these passages be led to believe
that a spirit of the most cordial love and concord reigned in a rare
manner in the Pestalozzian institution. How much more did I believe
so, who, deeply distressed by the calamities of those days, and inspired
with hope by the eloquence of Fichte, perceived in Yverdun the
commencement of a better time, and ardently longed to hasten its
approach. Those who did not themselves live through those years
of anguish, in which injustice increased and love waxed cold in the
hearts of many, may perhaps smile at the enthusiasm of despair.

Pestalozzi himself says of the institution that, as early as the time
when it was removed from Buchsee to Yverdun, it bare within itself
" the seeds of its own internal decay, (these are his own words,) in the
unequal and contradictory character of the abilities, opinions, inclina-
tions, and claims of its members ; although as yet this dissension had
done any thing but declare itself general, unrestrained, and fierce."
He says, that nevertheless many of the members were still desirous
for peace, and that others were moderate in their views and feelings.
*' But the seeds of our decay had been sown, and though they were
still invisible in many places, had taken deep root. Led aside by

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

91

worldly temptations and apparent good fortune from the purity, sim-
plicity, and innocence of our first endeavors, divided among ourselves
in our inmost feelings, and from the first made incapable, by the
heterogeneous nature of our peculiarities of ever becoming of one
mind and one heart in spirit and in truth for the attainment of our
objects, we stood there outwardly united, even deceiving ourselves
with respect to the real truth of our inclination to this union, and
unfortunately we advanced; each one in his own manner, with firm
and at one time with rapid steps along a path which, without our
being really conscious of it, separated us every day further from the
possibility of our ever being united.

What Ramsauer says entirely agrees with this. In Burgdorf, he
says, there reigned a kindly spirit. "This ceased when the family
life was transformed in the institution into a constitutional state
existence. Now the individual was more easily lost in the crowd :
thus there arose a desire on his part to make himself felt and noticed.
Egotism made its appearance every day in more offensive forms.
Envy and jealousy rankled in the breasts of many." "Much indeed
was said about 'a domestic life,' which ought to prevail in an educa-
tional establishment, just as a very great deal was said and written
about an * harmonious development of all the faculties of the pupil ;'
but both existed more in theory than in practice. It is true, that a
good deal of common interest was evinced in the general working of
the institution, but the details were allowed to go on or stand still
very much as they might, and the tone of the whole house was
more a tone of pushing and driving than one of domestic quietude."

In the report is this passage- : " In respect to the execution of the
design, we may say decidedly, that the institution has stood the fiery
ordeal of eight severe years."

On this passage Pestalozzi remarks as follows in 1823 : " What is
Lere said in confirmation of this view is altogether a consequence of
the great delusion under which we lay at that period, namely, that all
those things in regard to which we had strong intentions and some
-clear ideas, were really as they ought to have been, and as we should
have liked to make them. But the consequences of the partial truth
•which in this instance had hold of our minds were, from want of suf-
-ficient knowledge, ability, and skill for carrying it out, fixed in our
midst, confused, and made the seed of countless weeds, by which the
good seed that lay in the ground was on all sides crowded, and here
ind there choked. Neither did we perceive the weeds at that time;
indeed, as we then lived, thought, acted, and dreamt, it was impossi-
ble that we should perceive them."

92 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

I am fully aware that by some these later observations of Pestalozzi
have been attributed partly to the weakness of old -age, partly to the
influence of Schmid. To this I can not assent. As early as new
year's day, 1808, at the same time as the report appeared, Pestalozzi
said to his teachers :

" My work was founded in love ; love vanished from our midst ; it could not
but vanish. We deceived ourselves as to the strength which this love de-
mands ; it could not but vanish. I am no longer in a position to provide any
help for it. The poison which eats into the heart of our work is accumulating
hi our midst. Worldly honor will increase this poison. 0 God, grant that wo
may no longer be overcome by our delusion. I look upon the laurels which arc-
strewn in our path as laurels set up over a skeleton. I see before my eyes the
skeleton of my work, in so far as it is my work. I desire to place it before your
eyes. I saw the skeleton which is hi my house Appear crowned with laurels be-
fore my eyes, and the laurels suddenly go up in flames. They cannot bear the
fire of affliction which must and will come upon my house ; they will disap-
pear ; they must disappear. My work will stand. But the consequences of
my faults will not pass away. I shall be vanquished by them. My deliverance
is the grave. I go away, but you remain, Would that these words now stood
before your eyes in flames of fire ! — Friends, make yourselves better than I was,
that God may finish his work through you, as he does not finish it through me.
Make yourselves better than I was. Do not by your faults lay those same hin-
drances in your way that I have lain in mine. Do not let the appearance of success
deceive you, as it deceived me. You are called to higher, to general sacrifice,
or you too will fail to save my work. Enjoy the passing hour, enjoy the full-
ness of worldly honor, the measure of which has risen for us to its greatest
height; but remember that it vanishes like the flower of the field, which blooms
for a little while, but soon passes away."

What contradictions ! Does then the same fountain send forth both
sweet and bitter ? Was the report actually intended to deceive the
world ?

Never; but Pestalozzi was not entirely free from an unfortunate
spirit of worldly calculation, although his calculations in most cases
turned out incorrect. Ever full of the idea of spreading happiness
over many lands, in a short time, by means of his methods of instruc-
tion and education, he naturally considered it all-important that peo-
ple should have a good opinion of his institution. By the bulk of (he
public, indeed, the institution was taken as substantial evidence for or
against the excellence and practicability of his educational ideas : with
it they stood or fell.

The concern which Pestalozzi felt about the reputation of his
establishment became especially apparent when foreigners, .particularly
persons of distinction, visited Yverdun.

"As many hundred times in the course of the year," says Ramsauer, "as
foreigners visited the Pestalozzian Institution, so many hundred times did Pesta-
lozzi allow himself, in his enthusiasm, to be deceived by them. On the arrival
of every fresh visitor, he would go to the teachers in whom he placed most con-
fidence and say to them : ' This is an important personage, who wants to
become acquainted with all we are doing. Take your best pupils and their
analysis-books, (copy-books in which the lessons were written out,) and show
him what we can do and what we wish to do.' Hundreds and hundreds of
times there came to the institution, silly, curious, and often totally uneducated
persons, who came because it was the 'the fashion.' On their account, we

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 93

usually had to interrupt the class instruction and hold a kind of examination.
In 1814, the aged Prince Esterhazy came. Pestalozzi ran all over the house,
calling out : 'Ramsauer, Ramsauer, where are you? Come directly with your
best pupils to the Red House, (the hotel at which the Prince had alighted.)
He is a person of the highest importance and of infinite wealth ; he has thou-
sands of bond-slaves in Hungary and Austria. He is certain to build schools
and set free his slaves, if he is made to take an interest in the matter.' I took
about fifteen pupils to the hotel. Pestalozzi presented me to the Prince with
these words : ' This is the teacher of these scholars, a young man who fifteen
years ago migrated with other poor children from the canton of Appenzell and
came to me. But he received an elementary education, according to his individ-
ual aptitudes, without let or hindrance. Now he is himself a teacher. Thus
you see that there is as much ability in the poor as in the richest, frequently
more ; but in the former it is seldom developed, and even then, not methodically.
It is for this reason that the improvement of the popular schools is so highly im-
portant, i But he will show you every tiling that we do better than I could. I
will, therefore, leave him with you for the present/ I now examined the
pupils, taught, explained, and bawled, hi my zeal, till I was quite hoarse,
believing that the Prince was thoroughly convinced about every thing. At the
end of an hour, Pestalozzi returned. The Prince expressed his pleasure at what
he had seen. He then took leave, and Pestalozzi, standing on the steps of the
hotel, said : ' He is quite convinced, quite convinced, and will certainly establish
schools on his Hungarian estates.' When we had descended the stairs, Pesta-
lozzi said : ' "Whatever ails my arm ? It is so painful. Why, see, it is quite
swollen, I can't bend it.' And in truth his wide sleeve was now too small for
his arm. I looked at the key of the house-door of the maison rouge and said
to Pestalozzi ; •' Look here, you struck yourself against this key when we were
going to the Prince an hour ago.' On closer observation it appeared that Pesta-
lozzi had actually bent the key by hitting his elbow against it. In the first
hour afterward he had not noticed the pain, for the excess of his zeal and his
joy. So ardent and zealous was the good old man, already numbering seventy
years, when he thought he had an opportunity of doing good. I could adduce
many such instances. It was nothing rare in summer for strangers to come to
the castle four or five times in the same day, and for us to have to interrupt the
instruction on their account two, three or four times."

After this highly characteristic account, I ask the reader whether
he will cast a stone at the amiable and enthusiastic old man? I cer-
tainly will not, though I could heartily have wished that, faithful in
small things and mindful of the grain of mustard seed, he had plant-
ed his work in stillness, and that it had been slow and sound in its
growth, even if it had been observed by only a few.

The source of the internal contradiction which runs through the
life of Pestalozzi, was, as we saw from his own confessions, the fact \
that, in spite of his grand ideal, which comprehended the whole human
race, he did not possess the ability and skill requisite for conducting
even the smallest village school. His highly active imagination led
him to consider and describe as actually existing in the institution
whatever he hoped sooner or later to see realized. His hopeful spir-
it foresaw future development in what was already accomplished, and
expected that others would benevolently do the same. This bold as-
sumption has an effect on many, especially on the teachers of the
institution. This appears to explain how, in the report on the institu-
tion, so much could be said bond fide which a sober spectator was
forced to pronounce untrue.

94 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI

But this self-delusion is never of long duration ; tin- period of over-
strung enthusiasm is followed by one of hopelessness and dejection.
The heart of man is indeed an alternately proud and dejected thing !'
Such an ebb and flow of lofty enthusiasm and utter despair pervades
the entire life of Pestalozzi. The address which he delivered to his-
teachers in 1808 appears almost as the caput mortuumof the report:
the truth at last makes itself hoard in tones of bitter remorse. Pes-
talozzi makes a more tranquil confession concerning the early times of
Yverdun, at a later period of his life, in .his autobiography. More
than sixteen years had elapsed, and passion had cooled down. He-
states soberly what he had enthusiastically wished to accomplish in
those earlier days ; he acknowledges that he had deceived himself
and he can now therefore relate the history of the institution clearly
and truthfully. But the times less removed from him are still too-
present to his feelings, too near to his impassioned gaze, for him to-
be able to delineate them with the same historical clearness in that
work.

The report speaks of the instruction imparted in the institution in
a way which can not have failed to give offense to persons who were
not enthusiastically prejudiced in favor of Pestalozzi. Listen to these
remarks : —

•• With regard to the subjects of the instruction generally, the following is-
what may be stated. The child learns to know and exercise himself, that is. his
physical, intellectual, moral, and religious faculties. With this instruction to the
child about himself, instruction about nature keeps pace. Commencing with
the child in his domestic relations, the latter instruction gradually embraces hu-
man nature in all the above mentioned aspects. And in the same way, com-
mencing with the circle of the child's oliservation.it gradually embraces tin-
whole of external nature. From the first starting point, the child is led to an.-
insight into the essential relations of mankind and society; from the second to
an insiirht into the relations in which the human race stands to external nature,
and external nature to the human race. Man and nature, and their mutual re-
lation, constitute, therefore, the primary matter of the instruction: and from
these subjects the knowledge of all sep; irate brandies of study is developed. It
must here be remarked, however, that the aim of the instruction is not to make
the pupils comprehend man and nature merely externally, that is, merely in so
far as they present isolated imperical characteristics, capable of bem- arranged
either in a logical sequence of separate units, or in any other order that may be
convenient. The aim is rather to make the pupils observe things as a living ami
organic whole, harmoniously bound together by necessary and eternal laws, and
developing itsdf from something simple and original, so that we may thus brin-
them to see how one thing is linked in another. The instruction, as a whole.
does not proceed from any theory, but from the very life and substance r,f na-
ture ; and every theory appears only as the expression and representation of
this observed life and substance."

I am relieved from the necessity of offering any criticism on this
passage by a note which Pestalozzi added to it fifteen years later.
" In this and several other passages," says the venerable old man, u I
express, not so much my own peculiar views on education in their
original simplicity, as certain immature philosophical views, with.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 0,5

which, at that time, notwithstanding all our good intentions, most of
the inmates of our house, myself among the rest, must needs perplex
our heads, and which brought me personally to a standstill in my en-
deavors. These views caused the house and the institution, both
of which attained at this period a seeming flourishing condition,
to go rotten at the roots ; and they are to be looked upon as the
hidden source of all the misfortunes which have since come upon me.'r
It would take too long to follow the report in the accounts which
it gives of the instruction in the separate branches of knowledge. In
every thing Pestalozzi wants to be entirely novel, and just for this rea-
son he falls into mistakes. Take, as a specimen, the following on the
instruction in geography : —

" The instruction in this subject begins with the observation of the district in
which we live, as a type of what the surface of the earth presents. It is then
separated into elementary instruction, which includes physical, mathematical,
and political geography, and (2,) the topographical part, in which each of the de-
partments of the subject suggested by the observation of the surrounding dis-
trict is prosecuted in a graduated course, and their reciprocal bearings brought
out. By this foundation, the pupils are prepared for forming a clear and com-
prehensive view of the earth and man, and their mutual influence on each oth-
er, of the condition of states and peoples, of the progress of the human race .in
intellectual culture, and lastly of physical science in its broader outlines and
more general relations. The children are made acquainted with the statistical
portion of the subject, that is, the natural productions, the number of inhabit-
ants, form of government, Ac., by means of tabular views."

After this, need we wonder when we find Pestalozzi, in his me-
moirs, speaking of the earlier days of Yverdun in the following
manner? "The desire of governing, in itself unnatural, was called
forth among us at this period, on the one hand, by the reputation of
our modes of instruction, which continued to increase after our return
to Yverdun, and the intoxicating good fortune that streamed to in-.-ir-
ly every fool who hung out the sign-board of an elementary method
which, in reality, did not as yet exist ; on the other, by the audacity
of our behavior toward the whole world, and toward every thing that
was done in education and was not cast in our mould. The tiling is
melancholy ; but it is true. We poor weak birds presumed to take
our little nestlings, ere they were fairly out of their shells, on flights
which even the strongest birds do not attempt until their young ones
have gained strength in many previous trials. We announced pub-
licly things which we had neither the strength nor the means to
accomplish. There are hundreds and hundreds of these vain boastings
of which I do not like to speak."

No wonder that, in this state of things, there arose a determined
opposition to the institution. In Switzerland especially, Pestalozzi
says, the public journals began "to speak decidedly against our
pretensions, asserting that what \v<- did was by no means what we

vjtf LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTKM OF I'KSTALOZZI.

considered and represented ours.-l\vs to be doing. But, (he contin-
ues,) instead of penitently returning to modesty, we sturdily resisted
this opposition. While participating in this temerity, which is now
incomprehensible to me, I began to be sensible that we were treading
in paths which might lead us astray, and that, in truth, many things
in the midst of us were not as they should have been, and as we
endeavored to make them appear in the eyes of the world."

Other members of the institution thought quite differently ; full of
self-confidence, they pressed for a formal examination ; and in the
month of May, 1809, an application to that effect was made to the
Swiss Diet, then assembled at Freiburg. The request was granted,
and Merian, member of the executive council of Basel ; Trechsel,
professor of mathematics, at Bern ; and Pere Girard, of Freiburg,
were commissioned by Governor D'Affry to examine the institution.

In November, 1809, just after I had arrived in Yverdun, this com-
mission of inquiry came down and remained five days. They were
five sultry days for Pestalozzi and his teachers ; it was felt that the
commission, which confined itself strictly to actual results, would make
no very enthusiastic report. Pere Gerard wrote the report in French,
Professor Trechsel translated it into German ; on the 1 2th of May,
1810, it was presented to the Diet, then assembled at Solothurn. In
the following year, the thanks of the country were accorded to
Pestalozzi, by the Diet ; and there the matter was allowed to rest.

I believe that the commission pronounced an impartial judgment ;
the conclusion of the report speaks for the whole. "The educational
methods of the institution, (say the commissioners,) stand only in
very imperfect connection with our establishments for public instruc-
tion. The institution has in no way aimed at coming into harmony
with these public schools. Determined at any price to interest all the
faculties of children, in order to guide their development according to
its own principles, it has taken counsel of its own views only, and be-
trays an irresistible desire to open for itself new paths, even at the
cost of never treading in those which usage has now established.
This was perhaps the right means for arriving at useful discoveries,
but it was also a design which rendered harmony impossible. The
institution pursues its own way ; the public institutions pursue theirs ;
and there is no probability that both ways will very soon meet. It is
a pity that the force of circumstances has always driven Mr. Pesta-
lozzi beyond the career which his pure zeal and his fervent charity had
marked out for him. A good intention, noble endeavors, indefatiga-
ble perseverance, should and will always meet with justice. Let us
profit by the excellent ideas which lie at the foundation of the whole

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 9*7

undertaking; let us follow its instructive examples; but let us also
lament that an adverse fate must hang over a man, who, by the force
of circumstances, is constantly hindered from doing what he would
wish to do."

After the publication of the report, there arose a long and violent
literary warfare, which did any thing but add to the credit of the in-
stitution.* With this war against .external foes, was unfortunately
associated an internal feud, which ended in the departure of Schmid
and others of the teachers.

One of Pestalozzi's biographers states, that Schmid's pride and pre-
tensions had grown to such an extent, that he had acted with the
greatest harshness toward Pestalozzi, Niederer, and Kriisi. "This
was caused," continues the biographer, " by some ideas which he had
partially caught up from two scientific men who were then stopping
with Pestalozzi, (one of them is now a man of note in Silesia.) Per-
haps at that time these ideas were not very clearly defined in the
minds of those men themselves."!

The biographer means me and my friend ; I shall therefore not be
misunderstood, if I relate briefly the matter to which he refers.

I had come to learn and to render service. On this account, I
took up my quarters entirely in the old building of the institution,
slept in one of the large dormitories, took my meals with the chil-
dren, attended the lessons, morning and evening prayers, and the con-
ferences of the teachers. I listened and observed attentively in
silence ; but I was far from thinking of commencing myself to teach.
My opinion upon all the things that I saw and heard was formed very
much with reference to the boy of eight years intrusted to my care,
accordingly as they contributed to his comfort or otherwise. Several
weeks had passed on in this way, when I was one evening with Pes-
talozzi and the rest of the teachers at the hotel of the Wild Man,
where they used to meet I think once a fortnight. After supper,
Pestalozzi called me into an adjoining room ; we were quite alone.
** My teachers are afraid of you," he said, " because you only listen
and look on in silence ; why do you not teach ?" I answered that
before teaching, I wished to learn — to learn in silence. After the

* The well-known K. L. von Haller noticed the report of the commission in terms of high
praise, in the G'ottirtgen Lite.rary Advertiser, of the 13th of April, 1811, and at the same time
accused the Pestalozzian Institution of inspiring its pupils with an aversion from religion, the
constituted authorities, and the aristocracy. In reply to this, Niederer wrote "The Pesta-
\n".-r.\p.n Institution to the Public." This pamphlet appeared in a new form in 1812, under the
title, " Pestalozzi's Educational Undertaking in relation to ihe Civilization of the Present
Time." Bremi, of Zurich, wrote in reply to the former pamphlet ; Pestalozzi and Niederer
wrote again in reply to Bremi. Niederer professes to have convicted Bremi of ninety-two
lies, thirty-six falsifications, and twenty calumnies.

t Henning, in the Schulrath, (an educational periodical )

7

98 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ1.

conversation had touched on one thing and another, he frankly told
me'things about several of his teachers which put me into a state of
astonishment, and which stood in direct contradiction with what I had
read in the report, but not with what I had myself already observed
or expected. Pestalozzi followed up these disclosures with the pro-
posal, that I and my friend, in company with Schmid, whom he
highly praised, especially for hjs practical ability and his activityr
should set to work to renovate the institution.

The proposal came upon me so unexpectedly, that I begged for
time to think of it, and discussed the matter with my friend, who was
just as much surprised as I was. We were both naturally brought
by this means into a closer relation with Schmid, became in a short
time acquainted with the arcana imperil, and honestly considered
what obstacles stood in the way of the prosperity of the institution,
and what could be done to remove them.

Foremost of these was the intermixture of German and French
boys, which doubly pained me, as I had come from Paris. The pa-
rents thought otherwise: they perceived in this very intermixture a
fortunate means of training their children in the easiest way to speak
both languages : whereas the result was, that the children could 'speak
neither. With such a medley of children, the institution was devoid
of a predominant mother-tongue, and assumed the mongrel character
of border-provinces. Pestalozzi read the prayers every morning and
evening, first in German, then in French ! At the lessons in the Ger-
man language, intended for German children, I found French children
who did not understand the most common German word. This, and
much more that was to be said against this intermixture, was now
discussed with Pestalozzi, and the proposal was made to him, to sep-
arate the institution into two departments, one for German, the
other for French children. Only in this way, it was represented to
him, could the. education of each class of children be successfully
conducted.

The proposal was not accepted, chiefly on account of external ob-
stacles, which might however have been overcome. A passage in
Pestalozzi's " Fortunes " shows that he afterward thoroughly agreed
with us. In this passage he calls it an unnatural circumstance, that
the institution was transplanted from Burgdorf to Yverdun, " from
German to French soil." " When we first come here," he continues,
" our pupils were nearly all Germans ; but there was very soon added
to them an almost equal number of French children. Most of the
German children were now intrusted to us, not with any particular
reference to any elementary or other education, but simply in order

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 99

that they might learn to speak French in a German house, and this
was the very thing that we were least able to teach them ; so also-
most of the French parents intrusted their children to us, in order
that they might learn German in our German house : and here we
stood between these two claims, equally unable to satisfy either the
one or the other. At the same time, the persons on either side, who
committed their children to our care, saw with as little distinctness
what they really wished of us, as we did the extent of our inability
to satisfy their real wishes. But it had now become the fashion to
send us children from all sides ; and so, in respect to pecuniary
resources and eulogistic prattle, things went on for a considerable time
in their old glittering but deceptive path."

The second evil was this. Much as is said in the report about the
life in the institution having quite the character of that in a family,
and even excelling it in many respects, still nothing could be less do-
mestic than this life was. Leaving out of consideration Pestalozzi's
residence, there were indeed in the old castle class rooms, dining
rooms, and bed rooms, but the parlor, so justly esteemed by Pesta-
lo/zi, was altogether wanting. Older boys who, as the expression is,
had arrived at years of indiscretion, may have felt this want less ; but
so much the more was it felt by the youngest — by children of six to
ten years. I felt deeply on this account for my little Freddy, who,,
until he came to the institution, had grown up under the care of a
tender mother in a lovely family circle. His present uncomfortable ,
and even desolate existence grieved me much, and troubled my con-
science. For his sake, and at the same time, for the sake of the rest
of the little boys, we begged Pestalozzi to rent a beautiful dwelling
house in the vicinity of Yverdun, where the children might iind a
friendly compensation for the life of the family circle which they had
lost. We offered to take up our abode with them.

This proposal also was declined. It may easily be supposed that in
the consultation upon it, the weak side of the institution, the want of
a 'parlor, and the impossibility even of supplying the place of the
family life, was very fully discussed.*

Many of the conversations I had with Pestalozzi I shall never for-
get. One of them concerned the teachers of the institution, in par-
ticular the under-teachers. I saw that many of them labored with
the greatest fidelity and conscientiousness, even sacrificing themselves

* We made a third proposal, because it appeared to us to be impossible that Pestalozzi's
ideas could be realized in Yverdun under the then existing circumstances. We asked him to
establish in the canton of Argovia the long promised popr school, and offered to engage in
the work ourselves to the best of our ability. As he declined this proposal also, I thought it
my duty, especially on account of the boy confided to me, to leave the institution.

100 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

for the good of the institution. I need only refer the reader to the
autobiography of honest, manful Ranlsauer, for evidence of this fact.
But still there was something wanting in most of the teachers ; this
Pestalozzi himself could not help feeling. In his new year's address
of 1811, he said to them: "Do not attach a higher value to the
ability to teach well, than that which it really has in relation to edu-
cation as a whole. You have, perhaps, too early in your lives had to
bear burdens which may have diminished somewhat the lovely bloom
of your youth ; but to you as educators, that bloom is indispensable.
You must seek to restore it. I am not ignorant of your ability, your
worth ; but just because I know them, I would wish to set upon them
the crown of an amiable disposition, which will increase your worth
and make even your ability a blessing."

In what then were the teachers deficient ? Pestalozzi points out
one thing : many who had grown up in the institution had too early
borne burdens, and had been kept in uninterrupted exertion. " Those
teachers who had been pupils of Pestalozzi," says Ramsauer, " were
particularly hard worked, for he at all times required much more from
tin-ill, than he did from the other teachers ; he expected them to live
entirely for the house, — to be day and night concerned for the wel
fare of the house and the pupils. They were to help to bear every
burden, every unpleasantness, every domestic care, and to be respon-
sible for every thing. Thus, for example, in their leisure hours, (that
is when they had no lessons to give,) they were required at one time
to work some hours every day in the garden, at another to chop
wood for the fires, and, for some time, even to light them early in the
morning, or transcribe, &c. There were some years in which no one
of us were found in bed after three o'clock in the morning ; and we
had to work summer and winter, from three in the morning till six in
the evening."* Nearly all the work consisted in the direct perform-
ance of school duties ; the teachers had no time to think of their own
improvement.

There was another thing. Most of the teachers of the institution
might be regarded as so many separate and independent teachers, who
had indeed received their first instruction there, but who had passed
much too soon from learning to teaching, and wished to see how they
could fight their way through. There was never any such thing as a
real pedagogical lecture. Under such a course of training, it could
not happen otherwise than that some of the teachers should strike
into peculiar paths : of this Schmid gave an example. But it was an

Ramsauer's time-table shows that, from two or three o'clock in the morning till nine in
<he evening, he was almost constantly occupied with official duties.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. IQI

equally necessary consequence, that the usual characteristic of such
teachers should make itself apparent : namely, a great want of self-
knowledge and of a proper modest estimate of their own labors.
" Man only learns to know himself in man."

I must know what others have done in my department of science,
in order that I may assign the proper place and rank to my own
labors. It is incredible, how many of the mistaken views and prac-
tices of Festal ozzi and his teachers sprang from this source.

But there was a third thing that I brought against Pestalozzi : his
view of the teachers, and their relation to the methods and the
methodical compendiums. As already mentioned, the compendiums
were to render all peculiar talent and skill in teaching as good as un-
necessary. These methodical compendiums were like dressing
machines, which did not, unfortunately, quite supply the place of
the teachers, but still left the services of a man necessary ; just as in
the most perfect printing presses, a man must always be appointed,
though indeed he scarcely requires the most ordinary degree of
intelligence.

Pestalozzi's idea of a teacher was not much better than this ; ac-
cording to his views, such a one had nothing to do, but to take his
scholars through the compendium, with pedantic accuracy, according
to the directions how to use it, without adding thereto, or diminishing
therefrom. He was never required to be more than just a step in ad-
vance of the scholars. Just as if a guide with a lantern were to be
given to a man traveling in the night, and the guide had not only to
light the traveler, but first to find out the way himself with the aid
of the lantern. The real teacher must have the destination and the
road to it so clear before his mind, that he shall be able to guide the
scholars without a lantern — without a book of method. He must be
able to say, La methode c*est moi*

But can any one imagine a more miserable piece of slave-work than
that of a teacher who is strictly tied to a Pestalozzian compendium ?
Is not all peculiar teaching power thereby fettered, — all disposition
to sprightliness and decision in teaching and acting kept down, — all
affectionate relation between teacher and scholar rendered impossible ?f

At that time the institution appeared to me, in moments of sadness,
as a great noisy education factory ; many mistook the dull noise

* "Every teacher," says Ilerder, " must have his own method ; he must have created it
with intelligence for himself, otherwise he will not be successful."

t On leaving Yverdun in 1810 and going to Berlin. I attended an examination at Plamann's
institution. How the free, independent, and untrammeled teaching of Friesen and Harnisch
contrasted with the rold. methodical, and constrained teaching of many Pestalozzian
teachers !

102 LIFE AND EDUCATION' AL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

of the machines for an expression of youthful joyousness on the part
of the pupils, while engaged in learning.

Pestalozzi's view of the task of the teachers was too intimately
connected with his general views on education, and had been too
much realized in the institution to allow me to entertain the idea of
his changing it, although the good old man bitterly felt that my
observation was not without foundation.

At a later period, when the brilliancy of the reputation of the in-
stitution was decreasing more and more, Pestalozzi saw his under-
teachers in the year 1817, as he relates, "suddenly combine, like
English factory work-people, desist by common consent from the per-
formance of their duties, and declare in a body that they would give
no more lessons, but would remain in a state of complete strike-
idleness, until the salary of every one of them should be doubled."

• Pestalozzi pressed me to teach mineralogy, and in doing so to make
use of a small collection of minerals which the institution possessed.
I replied that, if I did do so, I must entirely depart from the methods
of instruction pursued in the institution. How so? asked Pestalozzi.
According to that method, I replied, I should have to do nothing but
to hold up before the boys one specimen of the collection after an-
other, to give the name of each, for example, " that is chalk," and
thereupon to make the class repeat in unison three times, " that is
chalk." It was thought that in this way the observation of actual
objects and instruction in language were provided for at the same
time.

I endeavored to explain that such a mode of instruction made a
mere show, giving the children words before they had formed an idea
of the images of the minerals ; that moreover this process of percep-
tion and conception was only disturbed by the talking of the teacher
and the repetition of the scholars, and was therefore best done in si-
lence. On Pestalozzi's opposing this view, I asked him why children
are born speechless, and do not begin to learn to speak until they are
about three years old ; why we should in vain hold a light before a
child eight days old, and say u light " three times, or even a hundred
times, as the child would certainly not try to repeat the word;
whether this was not an indication to us from a higher hand, that
time is necessary for the external perception of the senses to become
internally appropriated, so that the word shall only come forth as the
matured fruit of the inward conception now fully formed. What
I said about the silence of children struck Pestalozzi.

As far as my recollection extends, I have now related the most im
oortant matters that were discussed between Pestalozzi, Schmid, and

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ1. jQg

myself. I should at the present day still uphold the views which
I entertained at that time ; but, taught by so much experience, I should
perhaps be able to do so with greater " clearness " than I could then
have done.

But here I will by no means represent myself as blameless, and
accuse others. Although I believe that my opinions were right, I
know that my conduct was wrong in several respects ; but this the
unhappy circumstances of the institution will perhaps in some meas-
ure excuse. I will only mention oae thing. Unfortunately, Niederer
and Schmid were already placed in complete opposition to each other
by their different capabilities, labors, and aims ; ia spite of my best
endeavors, I found it impossible to effect a mediation between them,
there was nothing left me but to side with the one or the other.
Pestalozzi himself allied me with Schmid, whose resolute and restless
activity was a pledge to me that he would render powerful assistance
in introducing reforms. I was thus brought almost involuntarily into
opposition with Niederer. Even though I did not altogether agree
with his views, I ought to have emphatically acknowledged his self-
sacrificing enthusiasm. I felt myself drawn to Kriisi by his mild
disposition, but he too was against Schmid.

My silent observation was distasteful to the younger teachers ; can
I blame them for it ? While they were toiling with unheard of exer-
tion from morning till night, and had been toiling in the same man-
ner for years previously, I looked on at their toilsome life with a crit-
ical eye. I appeared to them as a strange, quizzing, inactive intruder,
and it was inevitable that I should so appear to them. They did not
know that I had come with so high an opinion of the institution, that
I wished at first only to look on, only to learn, in order to be able
afterward to teach and to assist wherever I could.

That high opinion I had imbibed chiefly from the report. The re-
port led me to form an over-estimate of the excellence of the institu-
tion before I went to Yverdun, and this over-estimate led me when
there to think too lightly of its labors. I ought to have acknowl-
edged then, the honest, conscientious, toilsome industry of several of
the teachers, for instance, Ramsauer, even though they did not always
bring to light discoveries that were entirely new ; misled by the
report, I had hoped, it is true, to find there nothing else but new
discoveries.

But, notwithstanding all these evils, I should certainly have re-
mained longer at Yverdun, and should have wrought in patient and
persevering hope, had I not held it to be my duty to take away the
boy intrusted to my care. I quitted Yverdun with him in May, 1810.

104 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PE8TALOZZI.

Soon after my departure, the lon*^ reMiain<-<l enmity there broke out
into an open t'eud. Schmid left tin- institution, and wrote against it.

In the summer of 1811, Monsieur Jullien, Napoleon's companion
in arms in Egypt, and Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, vi>it«-d
Yverdun. He remained in the institution >ix \v<-.-ks ; his observations
were embodied in two works.*

During the war of 1814, the hospital department of the Austrian
army required that the buildings of the institution should l>e givon up
for a hospital. Fortunately, tin- Emperor Alexander \va> then at
Basel : Pestalo//i immudiaU-ly went to him, and wa> iv.-eived in the
most friendly inanm-r; in consequence of the interposition of the
emperor, the hospital was not established at Yverdun at all, and in
November of the same year Pestalozzi received the order of St.
Vladimir, fourth class.

Schmid's departure from the institution caused a very sen>i!»le void,
the existence of which was painfully felt. Letters which Pestalozzi
wrote to Niederer at that time, bear witness t<> the evil plight in which
the institution was placed. "0 Niederer," he writes, "without
strength and purity of purpose in those who surround us, all our en-
deavors after what i> gr.-at and hiirh are lost' the sublime and
good can not easily unfold tli.-mx-lves where weakness and worthless-
ness peer forth from all corners — our greatest enemies are under our
own roof, and eat from the same dish with us — it is better to be alone
than to accept delusive aid from baseness."

In a second letter, Pestalozzi writes : " The internal weakness of
our house has opened the mouth of the weakest among us, for them
to give us monkey's advice and hold public conferences about us
among themselves. The great evil of our house comes from boys
who here play the part of men, but who at every other place would be
schoolboys."

In this period falls also the visit of the Prussian Chancellor of
State, von Beyme, who entered the institution " with a great predis-
position in favor of Pestalozzi," and before he left it expressed himself
to the effect, that if the institution held together for another year, he
should look upon it as the greatest wonder, for that, in the instruction
which he had seen given there, things were wanting which teachers in
the lowest village schools would be ashamed to have neglected.

Niederer felt more than any one else the void created by the de-
parture of Schmid. As « -arly as the end of the year 1813, he wrote
to Schmid in the most conciliatory manner, and writing on the 10th

* Precis 8ur I'inslitut d" Yverdun en Suisse, 1812 ; and Esprit de la methods d'education de
M. Pestalozzi.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI ^5

of February, 1815, he >ays : M With Pestalozzi, I stake every thing I
have upon bringing you back. Alone I can do nothing. You know
wherein I am deficient, but with you and a few other extinguished
and noble minded men, I do not doubt of the realization of an educa-
tional heaven on earth."

iV-talox/i adduces these passages' as certain proofs of Schmid's
ability, and the high value of his services to the institution : but they
aUo testify to an honorable mind on the part of Niederer, who did
not attempt to conceal his own practical incompetency, and who re-
1 a d -ep- seated antipathy to Schmid, in order to realize his
educational ideal.

Schmid was then at the head of a school in Bregenz. At Nieder-
er's pressing invitation, he returned to Yverdun in the Easter of 1815,
and now commenced a comprehensive reform of the institution,
• >j- ( ially in an economical point of view. There soon arose a silent
but general antipathy to him.

On the llth of the following December, 'Madame Pestalozzi died,
aged nearly eighty years, having been the faithful and patient partner
of her husband during forty-five years, through times of severe suffer-
ing. At her funeral, after a hymn had been sung, Pestalozzi, turning
toward the coffin, said : u We were shunned and contemned by all,
sickness and poverty bowed u-> down, and we ate dry bread with
tears; what wa* it that, in those days of severe trial, gave you and
me strength to persevere and not cast away our hope ?M Thereupon
he took up a Bible, which was lyini; near at hand, pressed it on the
breast of the corpse, and >aid : u From this source you and I drew
courage, and strength, and peace." Her grave is under two tall
walnut trees in the garden of the castle.

On this sorrowful day, the antipathy of many of the teachers
toward Schmid first broke out into open enmity, which was never
again appeased, and which positively poisoned the last twelve years
of the poor old man's life. From that time every blessing seemed to
forsake the institution, and every new undertaking in which Pestalozzi
engaged.

Most of the teachers were against Schmid. Blochmann, for many
years director of a flourishing educational establishment at Dresden,
drew up a formal complaint against him, which was signed by Kriisi,
Ramsauer, Stern, Ackermann, and others, in all twelve teachers.

In the year 1816, these men left the institution, among them even
Kriisi, so many years the fellow-laborer of Pestalozzi. " Father," he
wrote to Pestalozzi, u my time of enjoying your presence is past. I
must leave your institution, as it is now conducted, if I am not

IOQ LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

forever to !«•>».• mv courage and strength to live tor you and your work.
F<>r all that you were to me, and all that I was able to be to you, I
thank God ; for all my shortcomings, I pray God and yourself to
forgive me.

At length, in 1817, Niederer also separated from the institution ;
Pestalozzi tried in vain the following year to reconcile him with
Schmid. Both of them acknowledged Pestalozzi as their master, and
yet the reconciliation was impossible. They were too much opposed
to each other, not merely in natural endowments, but in their aim ami
object, in the educational idea which each endeavored to realize in the
institution.

Niederer saw in Pestalozzi a man who had grasped with instinctive
profundity the subject of human culture, but had given only a frag-
mentary view of it, and who could not control the ideas which, as it
were, possessed him. Niederer felt himself called to control tin -in
philosophically — to build up out of those mighty educational fragments
a complete systematic theory.

At first, Pestalozzi could not comprehend him, not understanding
his philosophical language. At a later period, Pestalozzi saw in him
the one man in the institution, who, standing on the pinnacle of Ger-
man culture, was fitted to assign to the new method its proper place
in the region of human culture generally. Only by such a man, he
thought, could the educated world, especially Germany, be won over
to his educational plans ; by such a man must his Swiss idiom be
translated into an intelligible high German. Nay, for some time he
even thought that Niederer understood him better than he understood
himself.

Niederer was deficient in the practical skill requisite for carrying out
his educational theory, as he himself frequently acknowledged. His
intention in the institution was more to observe the results of the
practical talent at work there, and in this manner to learn what he
could, but at the same time to see that all the teachers wrought
together with one mind toward one and the same object — the realiza-
tion of the educational theory.

No wonder that Pestalozzi, as he again and again affirmed, did not
feel himself attracted by Niederer's peculiar character, even at times
when the two men stood in a very friendly relation toward each other ;
and just as little need we wonder that the old man subsequently-
dissolved a connection, which had been formed by his will rather than
his inclination.

But how entirely different was his relation to Schmid ! u Inexpli
•caple feelings," he says, " drew me toward him from the moment of

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 107

liis appearance in our circle, as I have never felt myself drawn toward
any oth«-r pupil." Pestalozzi writes characteristically: "I must trace
from its origin the strength which alone appeared capable of holding
us together in this unhappy state." This personified strength was no
other than the shepherd boy Schmid, who had migrated from the
Tyrolese mountains to Burgdorf. Pestalozzi says that he soon left his
teachers behind him. " By his practical talent and incessant activity,"
continues Pestulo/zi, " he soared above the influence of every other
person in the house. I did not conceal that I looked upon the strength
of this pupil, though still so young, as the main stay of my house."
Pestalozzi characterizes Schmid in the same way in an address which
he delivered in the year 1818. " T will not," he says, " make more
of him than he is to me. I know him. He has a natural power
which, in its artlessness, penetrates where much art has often before
my own eyes failed to enter. Schmid threw a hard shell about the
kernel of my vanishing labors, and saved me."

Niederer also acknowledged in the fullest measure, the ability and
activity of Schmid. Like Pestalozzi, Niederer saw in him a most
indefatigable teacher of mathematics and drawing, who, by his ex-
ample, as well as by severe censure, could incite the remaining teach-
ers to conscientious activity ; he also saw in him a man who, being a
pupil of Pestalozzi, was regarded as one of the fruits of the method,
and who consequently impressed foreign visitors with a favorable idea
of it. Thus it came that, in the year 1814, he hoped every thing from
a reconciliation with Schmid. But how deceived he found himself,
when Pestalozzi gave into Schmid's hands the sceptre over the entire
institution.

Blochmann, too, in his complaint, acknowledges Schmid's "activity,
perseverance, endurance, punctuality, administrative ability, his meri-
torious services in establishing greater order in the institution, his
skill in teaching the elementary branches of mathematics — a rare
talent." All these were qualities which neither Pestalozzi nor Niederer
possessed, and which, therefore, marked out Schmid as an indispensa-
ble member of the staff of teachers. But, if Blochmann and the
other teachers who signed the complaint acknowledged this, why did
they press for Schmid's removal ? Because, they answer, in that
document, " the source of all that Schmid does is complete selfish-
ness, ability without humility, without love, without self-denial, sound-
ing brass, a tinkling cymbal, and Schmid himself is wise as the serpent,
^ut not harmless as the dove."

In a letter, (19th March, 1818,) to Pestalozzi, Niederer reproaches
him with having overrated the ability of Schmid, and ability generally.

108 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

"Ruin," he says, "entered your institution, when, dazzled and led
away by individual instances of brilliant talents and results, you
ceased to bestow any particular attention on that which by its nature
can work only in silence, although it stands higher than talent, and
alone can render the development of talent possible ; when you be-
gan so to act as if you owed every thing to that with which you could
make a display, and nothing to that which was not suited to this pur-
pose. Under this fundamental error, I say more, under this funda-
mental injustice, the mathematical side of the method and the insti-
tution was made prominent, as if that singly and solely were the
essence of the method and the salvation of humanity. Low and
«>ii<'-siJed qualities were honored at expense of the higher ones.
The qualities of good temper, fidelity, love, if they were not joined
with those external qualities, were slighted and depreciated in the
persons in whom they existed. In the kind of praise which you
u'ave to the manual dexterity of utterly inexperienced youths in
particular department-, you placed this dexterity above intelligence,
knowledge and experience."

Let us now return to the history of the institution.

In the Easter of 1816, M. Jullien, already mentioned, came to
Yverdun, bringing twenty-four pupils with him from France ; but,
annoyed, it is said, by Schmid, he quitted the institution the very next
year.

As already stated, Niederer separated from the institution in 1817,
from which time he conducted the girls' school only, in company with
his wife. In the same year, a most ignominious and lamentable law-
suit, which lasted seven years, arose concerning the pecuniary affairs
of this school, between Pestalozzi and Schmid, on one side, and
Niederer, on the other. "It was in July, 1817," says Pestalozzi,
"that a letter referring to that quarrel suddenly threw me into a state
of inward rage, which was accompanied by an outbreak of real de-
lirium, and placed me in danger of completely losing my reason, and
sinking into utter insensibility." Schmid took the old man to Blilet,
on the Jura, whose cooling heights acted wholesomely on the endan-
gered state of his nerves. There he poured out his sufferings in
poems, in which his soul, now caught in the trammels of the most
painful and ignoble relations, utters with wailing, its aspirations after
heavenly freedom. Here is one of those poems : —

Fair bow, that smil'st amid the storm,
Thoutellest of the bliss of God 1
With those soft beams of many hues,
0 shine in this afflicted heart
Amid its wild and life-long storm 1

UFE AND ElHT.vnoNAI, SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. ]^

Tell me of brighter morn to come,

0 tell me of a better day,

Fair bow, that joinest earth to heav'nl

Through all the dark and stormy days,
The Lordluith b»vn a rock to me,
My soul shall praise His holy name
Must I be call'd from this fair earth,
Ere thou appeaivst in my heart,
And bringest with thee heavenly joys
And that long wished for better day :
Must I drink out the bitter cup —
The cup of fierce contending strife
And enmity not reconciled —
Till I have 'drained the deepest dregs:
Must I from hence depart,
Ere peace, the peace I seek, is found?

1 own my burthen of offense,
My many weaknesses I own,
And with affection and with tears,
All my offenders I forgive ;

But death will bring me peace,

And after death's long night of rest,

A better day will dawn for me !

Thou herald of that better day,

How lovely then wilt thou appear

Above my still and lonesome grave :

Fair bow that shin'st like Hope through tears.

Like snow new fallen on the ground,
Like those bright flakes of winter-tide
Which, beaming lovely in the sun,
Sank into that new open'd gravo,
Where lay the partner of my days :
Fair bow, that shin'st with heaven's light,
Thus lovely, in the hour of death,
Do thou appear once more to me.
Through all the dark and stormy days,
The Lord hath been a rock to me !
My soul shall praise his holy name !

An attempt, which Pestalozzi made in 1817, to enter into connec-
tion with Fellenberg, was unsuccessful. In 1818, Schniid made ar
arrangement with Cotta, (the great Leipsig publisher,) for the publica-
tion of a complete edition of Pestalozzi's works ; subscriptions to a
considerable amount soon flowed in. The emperor of Russia sub-
scribed 5,000 roubles ; the king of Prussia, 400 dollars ; the king of
Bavaria, 700 guilders. Thereupon, Pestalozzi's hopes revived. In
a remarkable address, already mentioned, which he delivered on his
seventy-third birth-day, the 12th of January, 1818, he stated that he
should appropriate to educational purposes, 50,000 French livres,
-which the subscription would yield.

In the same address, Pestalozzi speaks freely on the subject of his
relations to Niederer and Schmid, and justifies himself for having
separated from the former and joined with the latter. He hits
•off Niederer admirably when he says : " I am conscious of a high and

T V") LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ!

fervent love for him. Only he should not require me to value in.
him what I do not understand ; he should ascribe it to the weakness
of my head, not to the hardness of my heart, if I fail to do so, and
should not on that account pronounce me ungrateful. But what shall
I say ? Here lies the very ground of complaint against rne, namely,,
that I am no longer capable of following the spirit of my endeavors,
and that through my incapacity, I cripple and destroy the strength of
those who are further advanced in that spirit than myself. It is-
an old complaint, that my spirit has left me ; that I have outlived my-
self, and that the truth and the right of my labors have passed from,
mine into other hands. I know well, also, and I feel it deeply, that I
do not possess, in the least degree, some qualifications which are es-
sential to the furtherance of my views ; on the other hand I know
just as certainly, that all those qualifications which I formerly pos-
sessed, I still feel myself to possess in some vitality, and with an
impulse to apply them to use."

Of this the address affords sufficient proofs ; I will quote some
passages.

" Man has a conscience. The voice of God speaks in every man, and leaves no
one unconvinced as to what is good, and what bad ; what is right and what
wrong."

" Contemplate man in the entire range of his development. See, he grows,
he is educated, he is trained. He grows by the strength of his own self; lie
grows by the strength of his very b«-inir. lie is educated by accident, by the
accidental that lies in his condition, in his circumstances, and in his relations.
He is trained by art and by the will of man. The growth of man and his pow-
ers is God's doing. It proceeds according to eternal and divine laws. The edu-
cation of man is accidental and dependent on the varying circumstance's in which
a man finds himself placed. The training of man is moral. Only by the ac-
cordance of the influences of education and training with the eternal laws of
human growth is 'man really educated and trained; by contradiction betwee_
the means of his education and training and those eternal laws, man is mis-
educated and mis-trained."

Pestalozzi gives a striking delineation of the contrast between the
old time and the new.

"The time in which we live, is really a time of excessive artificial refinement,
in contradistinction to a high and pure sense of innocence, love, and faith, and
that powerful attachment to truth and right which springs from these virtues.
"Who among us, if he be not an alien that neither knows the present time and
its spirit, nor has searched into the tune of our fathers and its spirit, but must
acknowledge that the time of our fathers was a better time, their spirit a better
spirit ; that their sincerity of purpose had its foundations laid immeasurably
deeper, in the religion of the heart, in strong earnestness in domestic and civil
life, and in the daily exercise of industry in the good works of a simple and sat-
isfying professional life, than can possibly be the case in our paralysing refine-
ment of the powers of body and soul. Our fathers were cheerful, reasonable,
and benevolent, in all simplicity. Their circumstances were peculiarly fitted to •
lead them daily and hourly in all innocence, in faith, and in love, to be good-
tempered, reflective, and industrious ; but our artificial refinement has rendered
us disgusted with our fathers' mode of life, and with the sources of their moral,
domestic, and political elevation. We have almost entirely departed from their
spirit arid their mode of life. But it is for this reason that we have sunk so low

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZ/a. j j|

in respect to the education of the people. "We have the semblance of faith, love,,
and wisdom, but not the qualities themselves ; and we live in a delusion, really
without the virtues of our fathers, while they, though possessing those virtues,
were by no means satisfied with themselves, as we are. The good and pious
foundation which our fathers had in their mode of life itself for their views, feel-
ings, opinions, and usages generally, and particularly in respect to the training
of children and the relief of the poor, has sunk under our feet through the de-
ception of our present artificial and frivolous mode of life. We are no longer
what we were, and we have even lost the feeling that we ought to become
again in spirit and in truth what we were. While we praise our fathers with
our mouths, we are in heart far from them, and in our doings we stand at the
very antipodes of them. We have substituted for their ability to do what was
necessary, and their ignorance of what was useless, a large acquaintance with
what is useless and an inability to do what is necessary. Instead of their
healthy spirit, well exercised in mother- wit, we have forms, not so much of
thinking as of verbal expressions about what has been thought, which suck the
blood out of good sense, like a marten that fixes itself upon the neck of a poor
dove. We no longer know our neighbors, our fellow citizens, or even our poor
relations ; but we make up for it by reading the newspapers and periodicals, by
learning the genealogical register of the kings of the world, the anecdotes of
courts, of the theatre, and of capital cities, and we raise ourselves to a daily
change in our political and religious opinions, as in our clothes, running, on one
side, from infidelity to capucinade, and from capucinade to infidelity, just as, on
the other side, we run from sans-cullottism to tight-lacing and leading strings.
Our fathers cultivated a general, simple, and powerful intellect ; but few of them
troubled themselves with researches into higher truths, which are difficult to
fathom : we do very little indeed toward rendering ourselves capable of cultiva-
ting a general and profound spirit of thought and research : but we all learn to
talk a great deal about sublime and almost unfathomable truths, and strive very
zealously to get to read the results of the profoundest thinking in the popular
descriptions of almanacs and daily pamphlets, and to put them into the mouth
of people generally. Among our fathers, every honest man sought to do one
thing well at least, namely, the work of his calling, and every man might with honor
learn every trade ; now our notables are mostly born to their callings. Num-
berless individuals are ashamed of the rank and profession of their fathers, and
believe themselves to be called to pry into and carp at the professional knowl-
edge of all ranks ; and the habit of prating about all professions and discharg-
ing one's own imperfectly is becoming more general every day, among both the
notable and unnotable men of our time. All spirit of political strength has fled
from amongst us. In the present state of society we no longer ask what we
really are, but what we possess and what we know, and how we may set out
all our possessions and knowledge for show, put them up for sale, and barter
them for the means of feasting ourselves, so that we may tickle our palates
with the refined enjoyments of all the five divisions of the globe, whose appe-
tites must by such conduct be almost inevitably engendered in us. And when
we have in this way succeeded in rendering ourselves powerless and degraded
in body and soul, in respect to the pure claims of the humanity of our nature,
and of the eternal and divine essence which lies at its foundation, — then, in the
state of debility and giddiness into which the fever has thrown us, we further
seek to force up the appearance of a character whose truth and purity we en-
tirely lack. In this state, we seek to cover over the outward appearances of
our debility and desolation by a violent employment of the means of adjustment
and concealment, which kill heart and spirit and humanity ; and verily we have
sunk to the employment of such means in many matters connected with the ed-
ucation of the people and the relief of the poor. Thus it is that we kill, in
ourselves, the very essence of the powers of the soul, those human gifts divine ;
and then, when a shadow of the powers which we have killed flutters in usr
we ornament the works of its fluttering with golden frames, and hang them up
in splendid apartments, whose shining floors are unable to bear any of the good
works of the ordinary life of man."

In another place, Pestalozzi says : " The gardener plants and waters,
V»ut God giveth the increase." It is not the educator that implants

1)2 MFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

any faculty in man ; it is not the educator that gives breath and lif»»
to any faculty : he only takes care that no external influence shall
fetter and disturb the natural course of the development of man's in-
dividual faculties. "The moral, the spiritual, and the artistic
capabilities of our nature must grow out of themselves, and by no
means out of the results produced by art, which has been mixed up
with their education. Faith must be called forth again by faith, and
not by the knowledge of what is believed ; thinking must be called
forth again by thinking, and not by the knowledge of what is thought,
or of the laws of thinking ; love must be called forth again by loving,
and not by the knowledge of what is loveable or of love itself; and art
must be called forth again by ability, and not by endless talk about
ability."

The reader can judge from the passages just cited whether any de-
gree of youthful freshness still lingered in the mind and heart of the
<»ld man of seventy-three.

l^vl But his " unrivaled incapacity to govern," as he himself calls it,
did not forsake him. He established a poor school in 1818 at Clindy,
in the vicinity of Yverdun ; a commencement was made with twelve
boys. "They were to be brought up as poor boys," says Pestalozzi,
"and receive that kind of instruction and training which is suitable
for the poor." But after a short time, children were admitted to board
in the establishment, at a fee of twelve louis d'or per annum ; and in
a few months the number of these pupils rose to thirty. It may be
easily imagined that the presence of paying boarders would of itself
destroy the character of the place as a school for the poor. But this
result was occasioned in a still higher degree by some remarkably
stupid experiments in teaching. An Englishman,* of the name
of Greaves, visited Yverdun in 1819; he offered to teach these poor
Swiss children English without remuneration, and his offer was ac-
cepted. On this step Pestalozzi himself remarks: "This created an
impression, which, considering the original destination of these chil-
dren, led us very far astray." To the instruction in English was
added soon after instruction in French and Latin. Pestalozzi sny<.
the poor children had made extraordinary progress in the elementary
subjects. He adds, nevertheless, " I had no longer an establishment
for the poor ; but, on the contrary, two scientific ones, which I could
not now allow to remain separated. Thus the so-called poor school
at Clindy was amalgamated with the institution at Yverdun." Ac-
cording to Pestalozzi's account, the poor scholars were "models

* A second Englishman entered the establishment the same year, as the religious instructor
of the English pupils who had been admitted. Later. " above half a dozen poor children "
were even sent from England to the school !

UFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. j^g

worthy of imitation " to the pupils of the institution, especially in
their acquirements. Many of them were employed as teachers.
" The instruction which was given by the pupils of our poor school,
(says li.-j \\.-is preferred, on account of its solid and natural character
to that of the most accomplished among the elder teachers of our
house." (!) They threw their strength chiefly into arithmetic and
geometry. Is it to be wondered at, that these poor children soon
began to place themselves on a level with the children of the institu-
tion, and liked playing with them out of school hours better than
chopping wood and carting manure ; — that, instructed in three foreign
languages, they did not like the idea of becoming masters of poor
schools, and of having learnt Latin to no purpose?

Pestalozzi acknowledged, when it was too late, " that the estab-
lishment had taken such a direction that it was no longer to be
looked upon as a poor school, but as a school for imparting the ele-
ments of a scientific education." The particular reason of the failure
had b.M-n ''that these children were led into acquirements, habits,
pretensions, dreams, and appetites, which did not suit the character
of their original destination, and even tended to unfit them for it."

Pestalozzi's unhappy disputes with Niederer and others went on
uninterruptedly during this time. At last a reconciliation was
brought about through the noble exertions of deputy governor Du
Thou. On the 31st of December, 1823, Niederer wrote an apology
to Schmid in the name of Kriisi and himself, in which, at the same
time, it was said that any future dispute should be settled by an arbiter.

Unfortunately, newspapers and controversial writings of those
years have made the public only too well acquainted with this dis-
pute. Pestalozzi's worst enemies could not have conceived any thing
that would have been more calculated to damp the public enthusiasm
for him.

Who would like to undertake the task of placing before readers
the details of these unfortunate occurrences, especially when it is con-
sidered that they almost exclusively concerned private interests ? On
February 1st, 1823, Pestalozzi wrote to Niederer a conciliatory letter,
which shines forth in the midst of this lawsuit like a brilliant gem
out of the mire. I give the following passage from this letter with
pleasure : —

" DEAR MR. NIEDEREK,* — Call to mind what we once hoped from each other
and what we were to each other. I would again hope from you what I formerly
hoped, and I would again be to you what I formerly was. But we must make
the way to this possible for each other; we must help each other to clear the
way to it, each from the point on which he stands. Let us do this. Above all,

' In November, 1824, the lawsuit which has been mentioned was terminated by
Arbitration.

8

] 14 UFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI

let us, without circumlocution and without condition, forgive each other, and
unite with a pure intention in true love, in true friendship, and in an under-
taking which will be for our mutual happiness. Niederer, become agi»in as far
as you can my old Niederer — such as you were twenty years ago. Madame-
Niederer, be also to me again something of what you were then. I will readily
l-e t<> both of you again, as far as I can. what I then was. How I long for the-
time when our hearts shall bring us to ourselves again, and when, in the path
<>f ival self-knowledge we shall attain to love, which is equally our duty a<
Christians, and the pressing need of our condition. Oh! Niederer, how I long
for the time when strengthened and sanctified by this renewed love, we shall be-
able to go once more to the Holy Sacrament, when the festival comes round,
without having to fear that the entire commune in which we live, scandalix.ed
by our conduct, will shudder at our coming to the Lord's table, and will cast
upon us looks of indignation as well as pity. Oh ! Niederer, the path of this
renewed love is the only one which will lead to true honor, as it is also the only
one which will lead to the restoration of a lost semblance of honor. Oh!
Niederer, think not that the tricks and chicanery of law can ever bring us to the
pinnacle of honor to which we can raise ourselves by the restoration of our love.
My old friend, let us make clean the inside of the platter, before we trouble
ourselves about the false glitter of the outside."

These lamentable lawsuits had naturally the worst influence on the
hybrid institution. Pestalozzi felt this most painfully, and thought
that his poor school would succeed, if he could only transfer it from
unlucky Yverdun to Neuhof, in the canton of Argovia — the same
Neuhof where, many years before, he had made his first important edu-
cational experiments. He had a new house built there for the purpose.

Each of the poor children who had been admitted into the school
had bound himself toremainin it five years, from 1818 till 1823. The
five years ran out. Pestalozzi confidently hoped that many of these
children would follow him to Neuhof, and form the nucleus of the
new establishment. But not one remained. As I have already
remarked, they had imbibed grander ideas from the instruction which
they had enjoyed, and they sought to make their fortune in other
ways. " They considered it," says Pestalozzi, " beneath their dignity
to be appointed teachers in a Pestalozzian poor school at Neuhof.'*
When at last even a favorite pupil of his rejected all his offers, and
went away clandestinely from Yverdun, the old man's heart was full.
"The illusion, in my mind," he says, "as to the possibility of trans-
planting to Neuhof an establishment in Yverdun of which not an
inch was in reality any longer mine, was now entirely dispelled. To
resign myself to this conviction, required me to do no less than aban-
don all my hopes and aims in regard to this project, as for me com-
pletely unattainable. I did so at last, and on March 17th, 1824, I
announced my total inability further to fulfill the expectations and
hopes which I had excited, by my projected poor school, in the hearts
of so many philanthropists and friends of education."

At length, in the year 1825, Pestalozzi also broke up the institution,
after it had stood for a quarter of a century ; and he returned, an old
man of eighty years, and tired of life, to Neuhof, where, exactly half

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. 1^5,

a century before, he had begun his first poor school. " Verily," he
says, " it was as if I was putting an end to my life itself by thi&
return, so much pain did it give me."

Pestalozzi had but one child, a son, who was born in 1770, and died
at the early age of twenty-four, leaving a son himself.* This grand-
son of Pestalozzi was in possession of the estate of Neuhof ; to him
the old man went.

In these last years of his life, he wrote the " Song of the Dying
Swan " and the " Fortunes of my Life." He looked back with deep
pain on so many shipwrecked enterprises, and acknowledged that the
blame was his, as the wreck had been brought on by his incompetency
to manage the helm. He -speaks, as we have seen, with equal candor
of his fellow-workers.

These last writings of Pestalozzi have been regarded by many as
the melancholy and languid outpourings of the heart of a dying old
man. As far as concerns the old man's judgments on the institution^
as it was at the time of my stay at Yverdun, I have already remarke.l
that I consider them for the most part highly truthful, and as afford-
ing evidence that he was not deficient in manly clearness and
penetration even in his old age.

In May of the year 1825, he was elected President of the Helvetian,
Society of Shinznach, of which he was the oldest member. The fol-
low ing year he delivered a lecture before the Education Society of
Brugg, on, " The simplest means which art can employ to educate
the child, from the cradle, jto the sixth year, in the domestic circle."
Thus the gentle influence of home education remained to the last the
object of his love, as it had been fifty-six years before, when he wrote
"Leonard and Gertrude."

On the 21st of July, 1826, Pestalozzi, in company with Schmid.
visited the establishment of the excellent Zeller in Bruggen. The
children received him with singing. An oak wreath was handed to
him, but he did not accept it : " Not to me," he said, " but to
Innocence belongs the wreath." The children sang to him the
song by Goethe which he has introduced into " Leonard and Gertrude."

Thou art from highest skies,
Every storm and sorrow stilling ;
Hearts that doubled anguish tries
Doubly with thy sweetness filling ;
On the wave of passion driven,
Oh, how longs my soul for rest !
Peace of Heaven
Come, oh come within my breast.

Tears choked the voice of the old man.

•The widow, an excellent woman, subsequently married a Mr. Kuster, and remains
attached to Pestalozzi with true affection.

116 MFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALC7SI

From his youth, Pestalozzi had been weakly in constitution, and he
had repeatedly suffered severe attacks of illness. In the year 1806,
he was suddenly knocked down in the street by the pole of a carriage,
and trampled under foot by the horses. " It is a great wonder," he
said in an address on New Year's Day, 1808, ''that I was saved from
under the horses' feet. See, they tore the clothes from off my back,
but did not touch my body."

In the year 1812, he suffered very severely for a long time from
accidentally running a knitting needle into his ear.

But, notwithstanding slight ailments and dangerous accidents, his
life was prolonged to a vn-y advanced age.

At length he approached the end of his earthly existence. Some
time before his death, he said : " I forgive my enemies ; may they
find peace now that I go to eternal rest. I should liked to have lived
another month, to have completed my last labors; but I again
thank God, who in His Providence calls me away from this
earthly scene. And you, my children, remain in quiet attachment
to one another, and seek for happiness in the domestic circle." Soon
after, he breathed his last. He had lain ill only a few days. On the
15th of February, 1827, he had been removed from his country
house to the town of Brugg, in order that he might be nearer to his
physician; on the morning of the 17th he died, after violent parox-
ysms of fever; and on the 19th he was buried. His corpse was
carried past the new poor school which he had begun to build, but
could not complete, and was interred with, a quiet and modest funeral
service at the village of Birr. Few strangers attended his funeral,
for the snow lay thick on the ground, and his interment took place
sooner than might have been expected ; the news of his death had
scarcely been received in the canton of Argovia. Schoolmasters and
•children from the surrounding villages sang their thanks to the
•departed in artless strains over his grave.*

Pestalozzi rests from the labors of his toilsome life.

At the grave a Sabbath stillness sets in ; we look back upon the
past, but, at the same time, we look forward into the eternal life of
the departed, and ask whether, in time, he seriously prepared himself
for eternity — whether all the labors of his life were done in the Lord,
and whether he died in the Lord.

Not as severe judges do we ask, but in all the humility of co-
redeemed sinful fellow-men ; we ask with the fond wish that he may
b« blessed eternally.

• Heussler.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. j 17

In a It-ttrr written in the year 1793, Pestalozzi says, "Wavering
b'-tWi-en/wfiM'/.v, which dn-w me toward religion, and opinions, which
led me away from it, I went the dead way of my time ; I let the es-
sential part of religion grow cold in my inmost heart, without really
deciding against religion."

That is the judgment which he pronounced upon himself in his
forty-eighth year ; at the time of Robespierre, when the earthy polit-
ical element reigned to such a degree in the minds of men, that no
quiet abode remained for the religious element.

The *• Evening Hour of a Hermit," written thirteen years earlier,
when the world was more tranquil, and as yet not off its hinges, con-
tains passages which are penetrated with true Christian unction. T:>
these belongs especially the concluding passage of the whole, already
quoted, in which Pestalozzi speaks of Christ as "the Son of God,
who with suffering and death has restored to mankind the universally
lost feeling of filial love toward God — the Redeemer of the World
— the sacrificed Priest of the Lord — the Mediator between God and
sinful mankind ;" and of his doctrine as " the revelation of God the
Father to the lost race of his children."

But other passages of this paper, enticing as they sound, are at
variance with essential doctrines of Christianity. Thus the one in
which Pestalozzi says, " Faith in God, thou art the pure sense of
simplicity — the ear of innocence listening to the voice of nature,
which proclaims that God is father."

Where is the ear of innocence to be found ? The Scripture saith :
" There is none righteous, no not one : There is none that understand-
eth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of
the way, they are together become unprofitable ; there is none that
doeth good, no, not one." (Romans iii., 10, 11, 12.)

Where is the ear of innocence ? If it were to be found among
men, then it might certainly hear a voice of nature, proclaiming that
God is father. In that case, the heathen might also have prayed,
44 Our Father.'* But nowhere do we find the slightest evidence that
til-- ancients loved their gods, not to say God, with filial love.

And, could man by nature love God, to what purpose were Christ
th.- restorer of the lost filial love of mankind ? But this very ex-
pression itself appears to me to be almost a euphemism for "The
I*ORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." (Isaiah liii., 6.)

We saw, in considering the book, " How Gertrude teaches her
Children," how deep an influence PestalozzPs notion of the innocence
of children exercised upon his educational theory ; like Rousseau, he
wanted to gather fi^s of ?hi^tl«-<. Did he retain this notion to the
end of his lif.-° \\'c shall nn«wer thi> -mention in the negative.

I tq LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI

In " Leonard and Gertrude," all the stress is laid upon active Chris-
tianity, love is occasionally placed almost in opposition to faith : a
dead, hypocritical faith not being always distinguished with sufficient
•exactitude from true faith, which is active in love. The clergyman in
Leonard and Gertrude is an honest man, but strongly inclined to mere
moralizing ; his care of his flock is more that of a faithful personal
friend, than of one acting in the spirit and strength of a church.

In the " Researches," Christianity is styled a religion of morality —
an effort to make the spirit subdue the flesh. If, according to the let-
ter cited, Pestalozzi wavered between feelings, which drew him toward
religion, and opinions, which led him away from it, both feeling and
Christianity give place, in the work just mentioned, to this belabored
product of the intellect.

In the book, "How Gertrude teaches her children," the educa-
tional theory is, as we have seen, extremely weak on the religious
side ; it is more a rhetorical theory of intellectual developments
estranged from Christ.

I'nit in this book, also, Pestalozzi's feelings repeatedly glances
through ; there stand forth the aim and yearning desire of his toil-
some life, the depth of a love which brought upon the poor helpless
man countless sorrows and almost drove him to despair. From the
depths of his necessity, he then cries to God, praying, hoping, offering
up his thanks : " Friend," he writes to Gesner, " let me now for a
moment forget my aim and my labors, and abandon myself entirely
to the feeling of melancholy which comes over me, when I remember
that I still live, though I am no longer myself. I have lost every
thing, I have lost myself ; nevertheless, thou, 0 Lord, hast preserved
in me the desires of my life, and hast not shattered to pieces before
my eyes the aim of my suffering, as thou hast shattered the aim of
thousands of men, who corrupted themselves in their own ways.
Thou hast preserved to me the work of my life, in the midst of my
own ruin, and hast caused to arise upon me, in my hopeless declining
age, an evening brightness, the sight of whose loveliness outweighs
the sufferings of my life. Lord, I am not worthy of the mercy and
faithfulness which thou hast shown toward me. Thou, thou alon.-,
hast had mercy on the trampled worm ; thou alone hast not broken
the bruised reed ; thou alone hast not quenched the smoking flax ;
and hast not, to the latest period of my life, turned away thy face
from the offering, which from childhood I have desired to bring to the
forsaken in the land, but have never been able to bring."

Before I consider the religious character of Pestalozzi's later works,
T will first look at that of his institution. It is best delineated bj
Kam-auor. Ho entered th«- institution at Burgdorf in 1800, as

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

119

a boy of ten years ; he left it at the age of twenty-six, as head teach-
er, when he went from Yverdun to Wiirzburg. Thus he had, both as
a learner and as a teacher, become acquainted with the religious ten-
dency of the institution. When, in later years, the deep truth and
solemn sanctity of Christianity dawned upon his awakened conscience,
which impelled him to self-knowledge, then first did he learn to form
a just estimate of that religious tendency. He narrates as follows: —

" In Burgdorf, an active and entirely new mode of life opened to me ; there
reigned so much love and simplicity in the institution, the life was so genial — T
could almost say patriarchal ; not much was learned, it is true, but Pestalozzi
was the father, and the teachers were the friends of the pupils ; Pestalozzi's
morning and evening prayers had such a fervor and simplicity, that they carried
away every one who took part in them ; he prayed fervently, read and ex-
plained i;.-!l.-rt's hymns impressively, exhorted each of the pupils individually
to private prayer, and saw that some pupils said aloud in the bedrooms, every
evening, the prayers which they had learned at home, while he explained, at
the same time, that the mere repeating of prayers by rote was worthless, and
that every one should rather pray from his own heart. Such exhortations
became more and more rare at Yverdun, and the praying aloud ceased altogeth-
er, like so much else that had a genial character, "tt'e all felt that more must
be learned than at Burgdorf; but we all fell, in consequence, into a restless
pushing and driving, and the individual teachers into a scramble after distinction.
Pestalozzi, indeed, remained the same noble-hearted old man, wholly forgetting
himself, and living only for the welfare of others, and infusing his own spirit
into the entire household ; but, as it arose not so much from the religious ar-
rangements and from Pestalozzi's principles, as from his personal character, that
so genial a lit'" '-ad prevailed at Burgdorf that spirit could not last long, it could
not gain strength and elevate itself into a Christian spirit. On the other hand,
so long as the institution was small, Pestalozzi could, by his thoroughly amiable
personal character, adjust at once every slight discordance ; he stood in much
closer relation with every individual member of the circle, and could thus
observe every peculiarity of disposition, and influence it according to necessity.
This ceased when the family life was transformed in the institution into a con-
stitutional state existence. Now the individual was more easily lost in the
crowd ; thus there arose a desire, on the part of each, to make himself felt and
noticed. Egotism made its appearance every day in more pointed forms. Envy
and jealousy rankled in the breasts of many. The instruction, calculated only
for the development of the mind, nourished feelings of selfishness and pride ;
and the counterpoise, which only the fear of God could have given, was not
known. Instead of being told that only that teacher could labor with God's
blessing who had attained to the knowledge and the belief of the highest
truths, and had thus come to see that he was nothing of himself but that he
had to thank God for whatever he was enabled to be or to do, and that every
Christian, but especially the educator, had daily cause to pray to God for pa-
tience, love, and humility, and for wisdom in doing and avoiding ; instead of this,
we heard day after day that man could do every thing that he wished, that he
could do every thing of himself, and that he alone could help himself. Had the
otherwise so noble Pestalozzi made the Bible the foundation of all moral and
religious education, I verily believe that the institution wquld still have been in
existence, even as those institutions are still in existence and working with suc-
cess which were founded by Franke, upward of one hundred years ago, with
small means, but in full reliance on God. But, instead of making the pupils fa-
miliar with the Bible, Pestalozzi, and those of his assistants who gave the
so-called religious instruction, or conducted the so-called morning and evening
prayers, fell more and more in each succeeding year into a mere empty moral-
izing; and hence it may be understood how it could happen that I grew up in
this institution, was confirmed there, and for sixteen years led a very active and
morally good life, without acquiring even the slightest acquaintance with the
word of God. I did, indeed, many a time hear the Bible named, and even heard

120 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZ1.

Pestalozzi complain that nobody read it, and say that in his youth things had1
been better in this respect ; at the domestic worship on Sundays, and during my
confirmation instruction, I also frequently heard individual texts read and arbi-
trarily explained ; but neither I nor any other of the young men obtained any
idea of the sacredness and connection of God's word. Just as Pestalo/./.i. \>y ih'c
force of his personal character, attached most of his assistants to himself for
years, so that they forgot themselves as he forgot himself, when good was to be
done, so also, and much more, might he have inspired them for the Gospel, and
the blessing of God would then have rested on him and them, and the institution
would have become a Christian seminary. It would not have been necessary
on this account to hang out a sign-board with the words " Christian Educational
Institution," displayed upon it; on the contrary, the more quietly and modestly
1'estaloxxi and his assistants had conducted themselves, the more effectively
would they have worked, and even the most noisy blusterer would soon have
come to perceive how very little he could be and do of himself and thus would
have become capable of learning something from strangers. Perhaps sonic per-
son or other may be disposed to reproach me with one-sidedness, injustice, or
even ingratitude, toward Pestalozzi, and to oppose to my testimony the tact that
at Yverdun Pestalozzi employed every Friday morning principally in represent-
ing Jesus to us as the great exemplar of love and self sacrifice ; or I may be
asked whether I have quite forgotten the zeal with which Niederer often gave
the confirmation instruction. But, in reply to this, I can only refer to the facts
which I have just detailed."

I could add but little to this statement of Ramsauer. When I was
in the institution, the religious instruction was given by Niederer, but
no stranger was allowed to be present at it. We may form a tolera-
bly correct notion, however, of the manner in which he gave it, from
what is said on the subject in the " Report to the Parents."*

" All the elder pupils, (says the report,) receive positive religious instruction
twice a week. The guiding thread that is used for this purpose is the course of
the religious development of the human race, as described in the Holy Scrip-
tures, from the Mosaic records downward, and, based on this, the pure doc-
trines of Jesus Christ, as he announced them in his Gospel. We base the
teaching of moral duties chiefly on Christ's sermon on the mount, and the teach-
ing of doctrines chiefly on St. John's Gospel. The latter is read connectedly
and explained from itself and from Christ's eternal fundamental view of God and
of himself as the visible image and representative of the god-head and the god-
like, of the relation of mankind to God, and of the life in God. We seek, by
the example of Christ, and by the manner in which he viewed and treated men
and things and their relations, to awaken in the children an intuitive leaning
toward the life and conduct, the belief and hope, which are founded in the un-
changeable nature of religion, and to render these things habitual to them, and
by the development of those graces through which the Father shone in Him, to
raise them to such a mind and mode of life, that God may shine in them also
We do not combat religious error, but endeavor to impart only religious truth
We seek the ground of all dogmas and the source of all religious views in the
nature of religion, in the nature of man, and in his propensities, powers,
wants, and relations, in order that the child may learn to distinguish the truth
in every garb and the substance in every form. The course pursued for the at-
tainment of the last-named object, or the elementary religious instruction, pre-
paratory to the positive doctrines of revelation, is based specially on the solution
of the following questions : 1. What is the original religious capability in human
nature, or what are the elements of all religious development and education, in
so far as they exist in man himself, and proceed from him as something implanted
in him by God ? These elements are perceptions and feelings. 2. By what
means and in what manner must these primitive religious perceptions and feel-
ings necessarily be excited and brought to consciousness in him ? Here it is
especially the relation to father and mother, to nature, and to society, that is

* There is no doubt that this passage is from Niederer's pen.

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI. ]O j

regarded as a means of religious excitation and education. 3. By what means-
and in what manner does man originally and necessarily express the religious
perceptions and feelings excited in him ? And to what does all this lead man ?
We find here principally the expression of the religious disposition as a gesture ;
the expression of the religious notion as a word ; the expression of the religious
contemplation as an image. The first develops itself as ceremony, the second
as instruction and doctrine, the last as symbol and image-worship. With the
course of this development is connected the development of what utters itself
unchangeably in human nature as veritable and eternal religion, every where
operative, and of what, as sensual degeneracy, errors of the passions, and person-
al depravity, leads to superstition and infidelity, to idolatry and image-worship,
to hypocritical self-delusion and deception of others, and lastly, to the contempt-
uous rejection of all that is divine and sacred. The pupil finds the key to the
clear comprehension of this in the intuitive consciousness of the awaking and
course of his own feelings, in the impressions which things make on his own
mind, and in the religious arrangements by which he is surrounded. As matter
of fact, the whole is exemplified in the history of the religious culture of man-
kind. The indication thereof, or the thread to which the explanation must be
attached, in giving the instruction, exists in the language of every nation. The
most important results to be accomplished by the instruction are : That the pu-
pil shall lay hold of the true and the eternal in their origin ; that he shall look
upon the human race as essentially religious, and as an organic whole, develop-
ing itself according to necessary and divine laws ; that, understanding also in
its origin and in its consequences the fall from God and the god-like, he shall all
the more earnestly and faithfully follow the way of return to God and to the life
in Him. so that, being thus prepared, he may comprehend the worship of God
in spirit and in truth" the significance of the eternal Gospel ; so that he may
attain to an inward godly existence, as he lives outwardly in an intelligent
existence."

I have quoted the whole of this passage, because it shows how far
the religious instruction was removed from all believing fervor and
childlike simplicity, from Christian simplicity, as we meet with it in
Luther's small catechism. But this passage characterizes only the
religious instruction in the institution, and by no means Pestalozzi's
religious views and practice.

Still it is clear that at Yverdun he also had in view much less mor-
al education than intellectual. He wished, by means of the latter, to
lay before the world striking results of the method ; but how shall he
show passing strangers the results of moral education, a humble mind
and a loving heart, or shall he even expose them rudely to public gaze
by an examination ? To which was added, that in the multitude of
boys he despaired of being able to take each one individually to
his heart as a father would do, who never loves his children only en
masse,

I now return to Pestalozzi's writings, and come to those which he
wrote in his old age.

In several of his addresses to the inmates of his house, there are
passages which bear witness that even during the years which he
passed at Yverdun, Christianity still lived in his inmost soul ; peaceful
Sabbath and festival tones soar above the restless and noisy week-day
work. So in his Christmas address of 1810.

" I have been told by old people, (lie said,) and I have partly seen myself

122 LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTKM OF 1'KSTAI.OZZI

that Christmas Kvo used to be a night like no other. The day of the highest
earthly joy was not its shadow. The anniversary of the deliverance of the
country from slavery, the anniversary of freedom, was not to be compared to it.
It was quite a heavenly night, a night of heavenly joy. In its still service ded-
icated to God, resounded the words : 'Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace, good will toward men.' When the angels still assembled, as it
were, over the heads of men, at this hour, and praised God that the Saviour of
the world was born, — what a night was Christmas Eve ! Who can describe its
joy? Who ean tell its bliss? The earth was, on that ni^ht, translorined into a
heaven. On that night, God was celebrated on high, peace was on earth, and
men showed a cheerful good will. Brothers, friends, children, could I but cam
you back into the old Christian world, and show you the celebration of this hour
in the days of innocence and faith, when half the world still accounted it a
small thing to die for the faith in Christ Jesus! Could I but show you t
of Christmas Eve in the picture of those days! The heart full of the ]|',. l\
<ihosr. ami the hand full of human gifts — thus stood the ehristian at this hour
in the circle of his brethren. Thus stood the mother in the circle c»f her chil-
dren. Thus stood the master in the circle of his workmen — the gentleman in
the circle of his own people. Thus stood the commune before their pastor —
thus went the rich man into the chamber of the poor. At this hour, enemy
held out to enemy the hand of reconciliation. The sinner knelt down and wept
over his transgressions, and rejoiced in the Saviour, who forgave him his sins.
The hour of heavenly joy was the hour of heavenly sanctification. Tin
was a heavenly earth, and the abode of mortal men emitted odors of immortal
life. May the joys of this hour, may the joy at the birth of our Redeemer. ><•
elevate us, that Jesus Christ may now appear to us as the visible divine love, as
he sacriliced himself and gave himself up to death li.r us. May we rejoice in
the hour in which he became man, because he brought into the world for us tin-
great gift of his life, and laid it upon the altar of divine love. From this hour.
he was the priest of the Lord, sacrificed for us. Friends, brothers, sisters, let us
pray; 0 God, give us them again, those fair days of the world, in which the hu-
man race truly rejoiced in the birth of Jesus Christ, the Redeemer. Give us
again the times in which the hearts of men were at this hour, full of the Holy
and their hands full of human gifts for their brethren. Father in
.. thou wilt give us them again, if we but truly desire them."

In the address already mentioned, which Pestalozzi delivered in
1818, when he was seventy-two years old, occur passages whirh make
a profound impression on the mind. He there declares that happi-
is to be expected from Christianity alone.

"The artificial spirit of our times, (he says.) has also annihilated the influence
which the religious feeling of our fathers exercised upon this centre of human
happiness. This religious spirit which caused the happiness of the quiet and
circumscribed domestic relations, has sunk down amongst us into an insolent
spirit of reasoning upon all that is sacred and divine; still we must also
acknowledge that the primesource of the real poison of our artificiality, namely,
the irreligious feeling of the present age, seems to be shaken in the very depths
of its destructive powers; the blessed spirit of the true ehristian doctrine
appears to strike deeper root again in the midst of the corruption of our race.
and to preserve inward purity of life in thousands and thousands of men, and,
indeed, with regard to popular education, it is from this quarter alone that we
can derive the expectation, that we shall ever attain to measures really calcula-
ted to reach with sufficient efficacy the views, dispositions, appetites, and habits
of our present mode of life, which we must look upon as the original source of
our popular depravity and the misfortunes of our times."

The conclusion of the address is particularly important : —

Friends, brothers, become renovators of my house, restorers of its old spirit,
and witnesses that the spirit of my youth, which is seen blossoming in ' Leon-
ard and Gertrude,' and nearer maturity in ' How Gertrude teaches her children,'
still lives in me. In that spirit, become joint founders of the present result of

LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PESTALOZZI.

123

the old Original, philanthropic ami beneficent purpose of my institution. In
that spirit, and in no other, 1 call you all, who are members of my institution,
to a sacivd union in and through love. Love one another, as Jesus Christ loved
us. ' Love sullereth long, and is kind ; love envieth not ; love vaunteth not it-
s.-lf, is not pulled up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is
not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in
the truth: l.ruivth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth
all tiling-' Friends, brothers, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you. Heap coals of fire on the heads of your enemies. Let not the sun
go down upon your wrath. If thou bring thy gift tothealtar. first be reconciled
to thy brother, and then conic and offer thy gift. All unrelenting severity, even
toward those who do us wrong, be far from our house. Let all human severity
be lost in the gentleness of our faith. Let no one among you attempt to exeiH.-
his severity toward those who are in tin.* wrong. Let no one say that Jesus
Christ did not love those who did wrong. He did love them. He loved them
with divine love. He died for them. He came not to call the righteous, but
sinners, to repentance. He did not find sinners faithful. Inn mad" them faithful.
He did not find them humble, but made them humble, by his own humility.
Verily, verily, it was with the high and holy service of his humility that he
Conquered the pride of sinners, and chained them by laith to 'the heart of his
divine lo\.-. Friends, brothers, it' we do this, if we love one another, as Jesus
Christ loved us, we shall overcome all the obstacles which stand in the way of
our life's purpose, and be able to ground the welfare1 of our institution upon the
-ting rock, on which < !od himself has built the weltan- of the human race,
through Jesus Christ. Amen."

At the grave, I have asked after Pestalozzi's confession of faith ; I
have sought it in his writings, as well as in his life, and communicated
to the reader what he himself confessed in 1793 about his Christianity
at that period of his life, when, perhaps, he had separated himself
furthest from Christ, and lived only in a speculative and political ele-
ment. " Wavering, (so went the confession,) between feelings which
drew me. toward religion, and opinions which led me away from it, I
went the dead way of my time." This confession we have found con-
firmed in his writings, as in his life ; but in his earliest, and again in
his latest writings, religious feeling has been seen soaring above a
sceptical intellect. And throughout his long life how high soars a
love which would not despair under any suffering, any ingratitude;
:how high it soars above all doubts, in the pure air of heaven ! Men
are seduced into infidelity by superficial reflection, which, misap-
prehending and over-estimating the measure of insight possible to
man, fails to judge aright where a clear self-knowledge believes with
intelligent resignation. But Christ, who takes the strong for his spoil,
reigns ever in the inmost heart of christians as episcopus in partibus
infidelium ; even in times, when their faith wavers, he remains
faithful to them. This we see in Pestalozzi, both in his words and in
his works.

Who shall dare cast a stone at him, who shall dare condemn him ?
To him shall much be forgiven, for he loved much. Aye, the whole
of his toilsome life is pervaded by love — by a yearning desire to alle-
viate the condition of the poor suffering people. That love was the

] j i I UK AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PE8TALO//I

passion of his heart ; it kindled in him a burning anger against all
who stood in the way of the attainment of its object.

It is true, that the chief ol»tacle in hi* way was himself. With
God, counsel and action go together; with men, th« y an- only too
often separated. Thus we have seen that Pestalozzi, with the « -l.-ar- ->t
knowledge of men, was incapable of managing and governing them ;
with the most amiable ideals, he was blind when he had to show tin-
way to those ideals. Nay, in endeavoring to realize his pvat concep-
tions, he frequently took the course most opposed to th in.

No one was further than he was from a cleanly domotic existence;
yet no one desired such an existence more earnestly, or understood its
value better, than he did. Tin* delineations of Gertrude's hou-ek
ing prove that a poet can truthfully depict not only what he possesses
in full degree, l.ut what he longs for with his whole heart because he
- lacks it altogether.

He passed the greater part of his life in pn-s>in^ want: thus he
could scarcely fail to feel a true mid sp..ntan.-..us xyinj.athy with the
poor and abandoned.

If lie was cynical in evil days from necessity ; in better days, he
was so on principle. Corresponding to the bodily cynicism, there
was in the character of his mind, something which I would call, not
spiritual poverty, but intellectual cynicism : an a\er-ion to the aristoc-
racy of education. And yet, as one of the contradictions of which
his character is full, he felt himself called to lay new foundations un-
der the lofty structure of this education, instead of tin- <>ld pernicious
ones. He wanted to support the upper story of the building, with-
out troubling himself about that story itself. On one occasion, he
even made it the subject of a boast, that he had not read a book for
thirty years.

Hence it came, as I have already said, that he committed so many
mistakes usual with self-taught men. He wants the historical basis ;
things which others had discovered long before appear to him to be
quite new when thought of by himself or any one of his teachers.
He also Corments himself to invent things which had been invented
and brought to perfection long before, and might have been used by
him, if he had only known of them. For example, how useful an
ae.jiiaintaince with the excellent Werner's treatment of the mineralog-
ical characters of rocks would have been to him, especially in the def-
inition of the ideas, observations, naming, description, <fec. As a self-
taught man, he every day collected heaps of stones in hi* walks. If
he had been under the di-cij.line of the Freiberg school, the observa-
tion of a single stone would have profited him more, than large heaps-

LIFE AND EDUCATION \l Msll M uF 1'KSTALOZZI. 125

of stones, laboriously brought together, could do, in the absence of
any Mich <li\i-i»>n.

Self- taught men, I >ay, want tin- discipline of the school. It is not
simply that, in the province of the intellectual, they often find only
aft*-!- lone; wandering \\hat tln-v ini^ht easily have attained by a direct
and beaten path ; they \\aiit aUo the ethical discipline, which restrains
us from running according to caprice after intellectual enjoyments, and
whoK-s,,mely compels us to deny ourselves and follow the path
indicated to u> by the teacher.

Many, it is true, fear that the oracular instinct of the self-taught
illicit sutler from the school. But, if the school is of the right sort,
this instinct, if genuine, will be strengthened by it ; deep-felt, dreamy,
ami passiv,. presentiments are transfigured into sound, waking, and
active observation.

This s.-lt-taught character of Pestalozzi's mind showed itself in hU
treatment of s.-v«-ral branches of instruction. What are his names
of towns, \\hich he takes in alphabetical order from the index of a
geography book, without possessing any knowledge of the subject;
what are the heaps of words transcribed from Scheller's Lexicon:
what else are they but the trials of an undisciplined mind, to find out *
new ways <>t writing school books ?

r>ut when the self-taught man forsakes the old highways, he finds, -
in spite of much going astray, many short by-ways, the knowledge of
which i- welcome to the students of the subject, and induces them to
make new experiments themselves. In this manner, Pestalozzi
exercised an influence even upon his adversaries.

Generally, Pestalozzi's personal influence on the methods of teach-
ing particular subjects was small; but, on the other hand, he com-X.
pelled the scholastic world to revise the whole of their task, to reflect
on the nature and destiny of man, as also on the proper way of leading
him from his youth toward that destiny. And this was done, not in
the superficial rationalistic manner of Basedow* and his school, but
so profoundly, that even a man like Fichte anticipated very great
thing-* from it.

But it is to be lamented, that the actual attempts made by Pesta-

Baaedow founded an educational institution called the " Philanthropiu," at Dessua, in
1774. In this institution, the educational views of Rousseau, as expounded in his " Emile,"
were exclusively followed, and every effort made to realize them. Rousseau was at that
time the pharos of many educationists in Germany and Switzerland, as he was the pharos
of the men of the revolution in France. The Philanthropin excited a good deal of attention
at the time. The name of the Philanthropin still survives, but it has almost become a term
ni reproach to signify any shallow educational enterprise. It appears, however, that, together
with much that was whimsical and even foolish, the institution presented many honest ani
unselfish efforts on the part of faithful workers, and produced many wholesome fruits —See
R(ii/>nrr\ arrount of the Philanthrnjnn.

]._>,; LIFE AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM OF PE8TALOZZI.

lozzi and his fellow-laborers to set up new methods of teaching vari-
ous subjects, have met with such r>jx H ial approbation and imitation.
An examination of Pestalozzi's profound principles, and an insight
into the contradiction between these principles and his practice, would
have conduced much more to the discovery of new methods, re:»lly
answering to the principles. This is appplicable, for instance, to what
I have said upon the exercises in observation, falsely so called. Most
of the imitators of the great man have fallen in love with his dark
side, the endeavor to mechanise education. When those purely ex-
ternal appliances and artifices which he employed for mechanising ed-
ucation shall have been so modified as to be no longer recognizable,
or shall have been entirely laid aside and forgotten — then Pestalozzi's
"Leonard and Gertrude," the "Evening Hour of a Hermit," and
"How Gertrude teaches her Children," will still live on and exercise
an influence, though even these works, like every thing else that is hu-
man, are not altogether free from spot or blemish. Profound'
thoughts, born of a holy love under severe pains, they are thoughts
of eternal life, and, like love, shall never cease.

t)F I'KsTALO/./l. 12T

The following summary view of the principal Biographies of
Pestalozzi is taken substantially from Guillaume's Memoir in
Buisson's Dictionaire de Pedagogic:

Several "biographical notices of Pestalozzi were published soon after
his death, in 1827-8, two in the French language; the first by Charles
Monard of Lausanne, and the second by Madame Adele du Thon, the
wife of the Prefect of Yverdun.

REV. CHARLES MAYO, in 1826, printed, with other papers, a Memoir of
I\ Main//!, read before the Royal Institution; and in 1856.

DR. E. BIBER, the author of a pamphlet in 1827, entitled Contribution,
to the ltioyr«i)hy of Henry Pestalozzi, in 1831 published in English a biog-
raphy of Pestalozzi under the title, Henry Pestalozzi and his Plan of Ed-
ucation; being an account of his Life and Writings, with copious extract*
from his works, and details illustrative of the practical parts of his method.

REV. WILLIAM C. WOODBRIDGE published in the Annals of Education,
for January, 1837, a carefully-prepared Life of Pestalozzi, with a critical
examination of his principles and methods of education, which was re-
issued by H. Barnard in 1856.

DR. A. H. DIESTERWEQ printed in the Rheinische Blatter, 1827 to 1831,.
si-vt-ral biographical sketches on different periods of his career, and in
1846 a Commemorative Discourse on his Influence on Popular Education
in Germany.

KARL VON RAUMER (1843) in the second volume of his History of
Pedagogy, devotes a very interesting and valuable chapter of over a
hundred pages to Pestaloz/i.

The Academy of Political and Moral Science, at Paris, announced as a
subject for the Felix de Beaujour prize, A Critical Examination of Pesta-
lozzi's System of Instruction and Education, with especial regard to the <r< l-
fare and morality of the poorer classes. The prizes were awarded to J. J.
Repet and to Philibert Pompde, and honorable mention to Augustine
Cochin, whose essay was published in 1848. Of Repet's Memoir we have
never seen a copy. In 1850, Pompee published the biographical part of
his essay, and a complete edition in 1878. This work, vigorous and orig-
inal, contains much that was new, communicated to the author by Jo-
seph Schmid, and about the period of Munichbuchensee and Yverdun,
and is not impartial in those chapters covering the period from 1805-1827,
which arc full of panegyric of Schmid and disparagement of Niederer.

Miss CHAVANNES, daughter of the author of L' Expose de la Metlwde
Hementaire de Pestalozzi, published in 1853 a biography of Henry Pesta-
lozzi, which has many mistakes, but contains much new matter.

M. PAROZ published Pestalozzi, his Life, Metlwds, and Principles; Be-
rene, 1857.

DR. PALMER prepared, for Schmid's Pedagogical Encyclopedia, a criti-
cal exposition of Pestalozzi's Life and Pedagogy, of great excellence
from the Protestant point of view.

F. MANN'S J. II. Pestalozzi's Leben und Wirken, issued in 1871, is a work
of more than ordinary merit and accuracy.

M. SEYFFARTFI published (1873) a biography of Pestalozzi, in which he
has conscientiously utilized all existing works.

i PBBTALOJ

M. IlouKK DK GUIMPS, son of Madame de (Juimps. the iran>lator of
Leonard and Gertrude, and an old .scholar in the institution at Yvcrdun,
publi.-hed in 1874, being greatly aided by tin- re-, arches of Moil' and
Varth, a Histoirt de Pestalozzi. This is the best book on the >ul>j. •< -t in
the French language. We are indebted to him for many facts about the
inner life, studies, scholars, etc., of tin- in.Mitiition of Yverduu at that
time, for which \\<- >«-»-k in vain HM- where.

HEKMAN Kui>i, the son of Pestalozzi's tir>t assistant, published in
1875 (Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co., Cincinnati) a volume of 248 pp., enti-
tled Pestalozzi'* L<f< , \Y«rk, and Injlncnce.

F. BUISSON, in his Dictionaire de Pedagogie, published in 1882, devotes
75 of his large and closely print (d pages to an elaborate and exhau>ti\e
memoir of Pestalozzi, prepared by .!. (riiillaume.

MADAMK XI.II.NDKR-STADLIK, of Zurich, in 1875, announced the publi-
cation of a great work on Pestalozzi, in seven volume.-, which should
embrace many unpublished manuscripts concerning him (copies of which
she had procured), his own correspondence, and all documents which
would throw light on the life of the great Zurich educator. The first
volume appeared in ls7.">, under the title, Pcstalozzi : — Idee und Maclit der
menchhd, Band : Zeit und Vorzeit von 1 '

irkelung. Madame Stadlin died while this volume was in j

DK o Ih N/IKKU. in 1881-2 began a series of publications on Pcsta-

of \\liieli the principal are (not to mention the Pe*talozzi -Blatter, of

which he was the editor) Ptttalozzfs Versuch der Arment -r: idm iiy «>ij

\» nhof ton cinem Mitglied der Commission fur das Pentalozzi-^;
chen. 1831. Deutche Blatter of F.Mann (1882) and two essays (1881-
1884) on the composition of Leonard and G<

II. MniiK, <»f Winterthur, Principal of the Orphan Asylum, from 1864
to IM'.T published several monogram- on certain portions of IV.-talozzi's
: , and in 1868 he issued the first volume of an elaborate biography
under the title, Zur Biographic Pestalozzi's. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der
Volfaerziehung. Enter TheH: Pestalozzi's Wirksamkeit bis in die Mitte des
Burgdorfers Aufenthaltes ; Z Auflage. The second volume

did not appear till 1885, under the title, Pestalozzi vnd seine Anstalt in der
zweiten Ilalfte der Burgdorfer Zeii. And in 1885 a third volume, <-ntitl< d
Von Burgdorf fiber Munchenbuchsee nach Ttenfnn." Morf also published
a study of Pestalozzianism in Spain, which appeared in 1876.

The Milton Bradley Company. Sprinulield. issue in 1888 —

PESTALOZZI AND > I)AGOGY.— Memoir and Kducational Princi-

ples of John Henry Pestal 0/7. i. with Biounipliical Bketche0 of other em i
nent Swiss Educators, and some account of Swiss Pedagogjr in other
Countries. Edited by Henry Barnard, LL.D. Revised Edition, 816
pages. $3.50 in cloth (binding

Of this Memoir, as issued in 1862, in a volume of 484 pages, with the
title of Pestalozzi and Pestalozzianism, Prof. Raumcr wrote from Erlangen.

"In your Pestalozzi and Pestalozzianism you have collected with the

greatest diligence all that relates to Pestalozzi and his school. I can
ardly understand how you could have made such a collection in Amer-
ica, or out of it either, even by the aid of well informed correspondents.
I know how great is the difficulty of collecting authorities, by my o\\ n
experience during the composition of my History of Pedagogy, where I
had to obtain them with much pains from German and Swiss Libraries
and even from France." "It is the most comprehensive, reliable, and
•satisfactory work I have seen on the great Swiss educator."

M.uX/rs I'l.AN H'|; Yl.'Al.MNi; '] I.Ac IIK1> J29

From cotemporaneous accounts of the school at Clindy, by a
pupil, recently printed (1880), it is clear that Prof. Raumer in his
memoir of Pestalozzi (p. ll'J-ll.'J), did not possess full informa-
tion respecting Pestalozzi's object in establishing it, or in the satis-
factory results, as long as he possessed adequate means to continue
it on its original plan. No one saw more clearly the necessity of
a well trained, equipped and experienced principal with natural
aptitude for such a Normal School as he contemplated, but he was
not as fortunate as Fellenberg was in a similar plan, in finding a
Vehrli to develop it.

THE CLINDY SCHOOL.

In 1818, Pestalozzi desired to found at Neuhof an institution for
poor and orphaned children, where scholars of both sexes could be
educated ami trained for teachers. The requisite building not being

found tin iv. lie rented, in the little village of dimly, about a mUefrom
Yvrnlun, a building to receive the new school. In May, 18l5T~h<\
announced tlnoiiirh the ./•**//•//*// that twelve poor scholars, of either)
would l>r received free of charge, and maintained during live years
at Clindy. where they would he prepared for the career of tejujjers. 1
From the number applying for admission, twelve of the best character^
and the mo-t intelligence \\ere selected. The establishment of Clindy
\va- formally opened on Monday. SeptembcjJLa^^SlS, by an address by
•!oy./.5. which was printed, but which is not to be found in any
regular edition .»f }\\± work-. The boys were put under the charge of
,id. and the ;rirls under Marie Schmid. a -i-ler of .Joseph Schmid.
•and a former pupil of the School for (Tirls. The instruction was given
by the teacher- of the Institution at Yvrnlun.

Much li.irht is thrown on the genesis and brief hi-tory of this school
at Clindy. in the bio'jraphy of Jacob lieu— i. one of the twelve free
.scholar* of the institution, who died at Leip/ie in 1883, after having
been pn>lV—or for fifty-eight years in different institutions in England
and (Jermany.

Al'trr isn, Pestalozzi had frequent visits from different Englishmen
at Yvrnlun, who showed especial interest in the Clindy School.
Thinking that through their interest at home he mi^ht find the resources
for supporting his school, he planned an English edition of his works,
and i-sned an a]. peal to the English public, printed at Yverdun,
September 14, 1818. Its title was, "The address of Pestalozzi to the
British Public, soliciting them to aid by subscriptions his plan of
preparing School Masters and Mi-tn-e- f,,r the people, that Mankind
may in time receive the first Principles of Intellectual Instruction from
the Mother-." He pledges himself to the people of England, who are
interested in the subject, to devote their subscriptions, deducting the
cost of translating and printing, to a permanent fund for this school.
4

8TAN8

DORF

STUDENT LIFE AT YVEKDUN UNDEE PESTALOZZL

KKMIMSCENCES OF A WESTMINSTER BOY.

THE KKMIMM ENT.*

The writer of these reminiscences of his student life at Yverdun
[about 1>U4] was taken by liis lather from the hard forms and birchen
discipline of Westminster School, then under Dr. Page, under some-
what « xauirerutcd expectations of Pestalozzi's Boarding School, which

arc well described by himself.

" Urn- was a school composed of boys gathered from all parts of the habit-

alile v.lohe, when- each, by simply carrying over a little of his mother tongue,
might, in n short time, become a youthful Mezzofante, and take his choice of

many in return ; a school which, wisely eschewing the routine service of hunks,
suff'-ivd neither dictionary, gradu>. i_rrammar, imr spelling book to be even seen
on the premi.s, •- ; a .-clnn»l for morals, where, in educating 'he head, the right
training of the lieart was never for a moment neglected ; a school for the
progress of the mind, where much discernment . hi. -nding itself with kindness,
. (1 ih" tii>t dawnin-s of the intellect, and carefully protected the feeble
pn\\. T- nf memory from U-ing overtaxed — where delighted Alma, in the prog-
lopment. miijit se< urcK enjoy many privileges and immunities
wholly denied to her at hoim — where even philosophy, stooping to conquer,
had hecome sfwrti'n the het;er to y» rs»/n»A .- when- t'tie poet's vow was actually
reali/.ed— tin- bodily health liein- as diligently ! r as that of the mind

or the afiVetioits ; la-tly. where they found no righting imr hull\iiii:, as at
home, but auri.-n'tr.r and •_ \ mna.-tic> instituted in their stead." To Midi
encomiums on the M-hool w.-re added, and with more justice and truth, a cnm-
niend .rion on old Pe-talo/./.i himself, the real liberality of whoM- -entiments,.
jind the overflowing of whose pateni.il love, could not, it was argued, and did
not, f:>i! to prove 1 enetieial to all within the sphere of their influence. The
.vei-lit of Midi >upp'-ed ;• d \ a n t.ej • - turned tin- >ca!e for not a few just entering
'• pupillary state, and >ettl«-d their future destination.

The account which follows, after due allowance for its unsyinpathi/.-
oe, throws nmrh li-ht on the internal economy of the institution.

INTERNAL CONDI T I "N

The PetM&m, durin- 'he perio.l of our sojourn at Yverdnn, contained about

n hundred and '-'-v Fnr..p-an and <-f >..me < >rie,,tal

rfmitin mode of distribution into class,.,, According to ago and

ae«,uiivments. durin- school hours, was completely chanyrd in j.lay-time, when

the boys, tindin-j it easier to speak their own tongue than to acquire a new one,

• -<»m an article in Blackwood's Magazine for .Tuly.isw. with the ,,M,iie,. Pestalozziana
-written somo thirty years after leaving Yverdun, with no prejudices in favor of popular
ednontlon.

182 STUDENT LIFE AT YVERDUN I'NDKK PESTALOZZI.

divided themselves into separate groups according to their respective nations.
The Knglish would ocea-ionally admit ;i (lennan or a Prussian to their coti rie ;
luit that was a favor seldom conferred nj)un any other foreigner; for tin- Span-
iards, who were certainly the least well-conducted of the whole coimnunitv,
did uot deserve it ; among them were to he found tin- litigious, tin- mischief-
makers, tin- (juan-cller-, and — for, as lias linn hinted, \\c were not all honest —
the exceptional thieve-. Tin- Italian- we could never make out, nor they us :
we had no sympathy with Pole or Greek; tin- Swi-s we positively did not like,
and the French just as positively did not like us; so how could it he otherwise '.
The ushers, for the most part trained up in tin; school, wore an obli^m- >et of
men, with little refinement, less pretension, and wholly without learning. A
distich from Crabbe describes them perfectly —

"Men who, 'mid noise and dirt, and play and prate,
Could calmly mend the pen and wash the slat

Punishments were rare; iml- -ed, Homing was absolutely prohibited ; and the
-ettini: an inij>osition would have l.ecn equally against the genius loci, had lesson-
hook- existed out of which to hear it afterwards. A short imprisonment in an
unfurnished room — a not very formidable black hole — with the loss of & goutte
now and then, and at very long intervals, formed the mild summary of tin-
penal "code Pestalo//.i."

It was Saturday, and a half-holiday, when we arrived at Vverdtin, and oh
the confusion of tongues which there prevailed ! All Bedlam and rarua— us,
let loose to rave together, could not have come np to that diapason of discords
with which the high corridor- were ringing, a-, pa --in- through the throng, we
•were conducted to the venerable head of the establishment in his private apart-
ments beyond. In this gallery of mixed portraits might be seen long-haired,
high-born, and high-cheek-boned Germans ; a scantling of French gaming much
better dressed ; some dark-eyed Italians ; Greeks in most foreigneering attire ;
here and there a fair ingenuous Ku--ian lace; several swart, sinister-looking
Spaniards, models only for their own Carravagio; some dirty specimens of the
universal Pole; one or two unmistakable Knglish, ready to shake hands with a
.compatriot; and Swiss from every canton of the Helvetic confederacy. To
.this promiscuous multitude we were shortly introduced, the kind old man him-
:self taking us by the hand, and acting as master of the ceremonies. When
•.the whole school had crowded round to f-tare at the new importation, " Here,"
said he, "are four English boys come from their distant home, to be naturalized
in this establishment, and made members of our family. Boys, receive them
kindly, and remember they are henceforth your brothers." A shout from the
crowd proclaiming its ready assent and cordial participation in the adoption,
toothing remained but to shake hands d I'Anglaise, and to fraternize without loss
^pMirne. The next day being Sunday, our skulls were craniologically studied
by Herr Schmidt, the head usher; and whatever various bumps or depressions
phrenology might have discovered thereon were all duly registered in a large
book. After this examination was concluded, a week's furlough was allowed,
in order that Herr Schmidt might have an opportunity afforded him of seeing
how far our real character squared with phrenological observation and measure-
ment, entering this also into the same ledger as a note.

What a contrast were we unavoidably drawing all this time between Yverdun
and Westminster, and how enjoyable was the change to us ! The reader will
please to imagine, as well as he can, the sensations of a lately pent-up chrysalis,

STUDENT LIFE AT VVKKDl N I'NDEK PESTALOZZI. 133

cm first finding himself a butterfly, or the not less agreeable surprise of some
newly metamorphose -d tadpole, when, taring his associates in the mud and
-n.r:i slime, he floats at liberty on the surface of the pool, endowed with lungs
and a voice, — if he would at all enter into the exultation of our feelings on
chunking the penitential air of Millbank for the fresh mountain breezes of the
l'a\ - iK- Vaud. It seemed as if we had — nay, we had actually entered upon a
new existenee, so thoroughly had all the elements of the old been altered and
improved. If we looked back, and compared past and present experiences,
there, at the wrong end of the mental telescope, stood that small dingy houser
in that little mis-yclept Great Smith Street, with its tiny cocoon of a bed-room,
whilom our close and airless prison ; here, at the other end, and in immediate
contact with the eye, a noble chateau, full of roomy rooms, enough and to
spare. Another letroepecthre peep, and there was Tothill Fields and it- seedy
cricket ground ; and here, again, a level equally perfect, but carpeted with fine
turf, and extending to the margin of a broad, living lake, instead of terminating
in a nauseous duck pond; while the cold, clammy cloisters adjoining Dean's
Yard were not less favorably replaced by a large, open, airy play ground, inter-
sect!.1 by two clear trout streams — and a sky as unlike that above Bird Cage
Walk as the interposed atmosphere was different ; whilst, in place of the start-
ling, discordant h't/i usmata of bargees, joined to the creaking, stunning noise
of commerce in a great city, few out-of-door sounds to meet our ear, ami these
few, with the exception of our own, all quiet, pastoral, and soothing, such as,
later in life, make

" Silence in the heart
For thought to do her part,"

and which are not without their charm, even to him "who whistles as he goes,
for want of thought." No wonder, then, it' Yverdun seemed Paradisaical in
its landscapes. Nor was this all. If the views outside were charming, our
domestic and social relations within doors were not less pleasing. At first, the
unwelcome vision of the late head-master would sometimes haunt us, clad in his
flowing black D.D. robes — "tri- MS in vultu, atque in verbis fides,"

looking as if he intended to flog, ami his words never belying his looks. That
terrible Olympian arm, rai.-ed and ready to .-trike, was again shadowed forth
to view ; while we could almost fancy ourselves once more at that judicial
table, one of twenty boys who were to draw lots for a " hander." How sooth-
ingly, then, came the pleasing consciousness, breaking our reverie, that a very
different person was now our head-master — a most indulgent old man whom we
should meet ere long, with hands uplifted, indeed, but only for the purpose of
clutching us tight while he inflicted a salute on both checks, and pronounced
his a ff ectionate guten moryen, lit IMS kind, as he hastened on to bestow the
fatherly greeting upon every pupil in turn.

THE DORMITORY.

The sleeping apartments at the chateau occupied three of the four sides of
its inner quadrangle, and consisted of as many long rooms, each with a double
row of windows ; whereof one looked into the aforesaid quadrangle, while the
opposite rows commanded, severally, views of the garden, the open country,
and the Grande Place of the town. They were accommodated with sixty
uncurtained stump bedsteads, fifty-nine of which afforded i/ite to a like number
of boys ; and one, in no respect superior to the rest, was destined to receive the
athletic form of Ilerr Gottlieb, son in law to Vater Pestalozzi, to whose partic-

1 , ! .»i:.NT I.IFK AT V\ KKDl N UNDER PESTALOZZI.

uhir charge we were consigned during the hours of the night. These bed
he in. ii' a- lofty as they were long, broad, and overfurnished with windows, \\ere
always ventilated ; hut tin- in draught of air, which was sufficient to keep them
cool during the hotte.-t day in i-ummer, rendered thfin coal, and soinctiiii'
cold, in the winter. In that sea.-on, accordingly, especially when the /</»• hlew,
and hail and sleet were battering against thf casement.- , the compulsory ri-in^
!a<s hy candle-light was an un^eiiial and unwelcome process; for which,
however, there being no remedy, the next best thing was to take it as cooliy, we
•were goini; to say — thai of course — but, as patiently as might he The disagree-
able anticipation of the re veil was frequently enough to scare away sleep from
our eves a full hour before the command to jump ont < I Led was actually
issued. On such occasion- we would lie awake, and, as ihc time approached,
heuin to draw in our own lireath, furtively listening, not without trepidation, to th--
loud noise of a distant comrade, le-t it- fitful .-tertor should startle another pair
of no.-tril.-.on who-e n-po-c that of the whole dormitory depended. L,-t J'.M'.U-
and his crew make what tumult they liked inside or outside the castk — ///<// dis-
turbed nobody's dreams—///^ never murdered sleep. Let ihem pipe and
whistle through every key hole and < re\ice i.f the vast ciHXJhti of tin- building
— igh and moan as they would in their various imprisonments »f atti<- or cor-
ridor; howl \\ildly round ih>- -rcat tower, or even threaten a foicil.le entry at
the windows, nobody'- ear- were scared into unwelcome i-nnscii.usne-> by
sounds so familiar to them all. It was tlie expectation nf a blast louder e\ ,-n
than theirs that would keep OU1 —a blast aLoiit to i>»uc from the bed

of Ilerr Gottlieb, and thundering enough, when it issued, to startle the \< ry
<>f winds himself! Often, a- the dnaded six A.M. drew ni^li, when the
third ijnarter ]>ast five had, ten minute- since, come \\ith a sou-h and a rattle
against the casements, and still dottlieb -lept on. w«- would take c.

n to dream with our eye- open, that his slumbers mi^ht be prolonged a
little; his face, turned upward-, !<>,,k<d so calm, the eye< so resolutely el-
even-feature so perfectly at r It It e-.uld n«>t be more than live miniile- to
six — miirht n<it he who had slept .so long, for once or,.--!, ep, bim.-e'.f' Ni \ : u'
.xfiowever placid those slumbers might be, they invariably forsook our " un-
I wearied one" just as the clock was on the point of striking six. To ju :
Vthe rapid twitching*— they almost seeme-l galvanic— first of the muscles round
the month, then of the nose and eye-, it app. an-d as though some ill-omened
dream, at that very nick of time, was pent periodically, on purpose to'awakcn
him; and, if -o, it certainly never returned </- WKTOC. Gottlieb would ir.stantly
set to rubbing hi- eye-, and as the hour struck, sprint: up wide awake in his
shirt sleeves — thus destroying every lingering, and, as it always turned out,
ill founded hope of a longer snooze. Presently we beheld him jump into his
.-mall-clothes, and, when suthYiently attired to be seen, nnlimber his ton-ue,
and pour forth a rattling broadside — Anf, kinder! Srluriiul .'— with such prc-
< i.-ion of delivery, too, that few sleepers could turn a deaf ear to it. Hut l'-t
any one should still lurk under his warm coverlet out of earshot, at the further
end of the room, another and a shriller summons to the same effect once more
shakes the walls and windows of the dormitory. Then every boy knew ri^ht
well that the last moment for repose was past, and that he must at once turn
out shivering from his bed, and dress as fast as possible ; and it was really
surprising to witness how rapidly nil could huddle on their clothes under certain
conditions cf the a'!i!o-pl.

:>ENT LIFE AT YVEHIMN I'NDER PESTALOZZI. 135

In le<s th;in five minutes the whole school was dressed, and Gottlieb, in his
.-minding shoes, having uiged the dilatory with another admonitorv schivind,
si-furind! has departed, key and candle in hand, to arouse the remaining sleep-
en, by rin^ini: the "Great Tom " of the chateau. So cold and cheerless was
this matutinal summons, that occasional attempts were made to evade it by
simulated headache, or, without bring quite BO >p.-citie, on the plea of general
indispo-itioii, though it was well known beforehand what the result would be.
Herr Gottlieb, in such a case, would' presently appear at the bedside of the
delinquent patient, with very little compassion in his countenance, and in a
bnatneas tone, proceed to inquire from him. Why not up ? — and on receiving
for reply, in a niel.mdioly vuio-, that the would-be invalid was «-///• krn,,L; would
instantly pass the word for the doctor to be summoned. That doctor — we knew
him well, and everv truant knew — was a quondam French armv surgeon — a
sworn di-cii.le of the Broii.-sais school, whose heroic remedies at the chateau
resolved themselves into one of two — i.e. a starve or a vomit, alternately admin-
istered, according as the idiosyncrasy of the patient, or a- this or that symptom
tun:'-d the scale, now in favor of storming the stomach, now of starving it into
capitulation. Just as the welcome hot nn->s of bread and milk was about to be
served to tin- rot, this dapper little Sangrado would make his appearance, feel
the pnl- •. in-peet the tongue, ask a few questions, and finding, gcn<-rally, indi-
cations of what he would term une Itglre gastrite, recommend di!te absolve; then
piv-erihing a mawkish tinnn- : of any ^anlen herlis at hand, and pocket-

ing lancet- ;;nd stethoscope, would Lave the patient to ivco\ cr v///.s • n.'ointl — a
mo<le of treatment to which, he would tell us, we should certainly have been
subjected in our own country. Meanwhile, the superiority of /is j Ian of treat-
ment was unquestionable. On the very next morning, when he called to \ Mt
his c/ier jxtit malade, an empty bed said quite plainly, " Very \\-rll, I thank yon.
sir, and in class." But these fei^nings were comparatively of rare occurrence,
in general, all rose, dressed, and descended together, jnst as the alarum hell
had cea-i-'i to sound; and in less than two minutes more all were a->emblcd in
their respective class-rooms. The rats and mice, which had had the run ofx
the-e duriiiL: the nii;ht, would be still in oceup-.ition when we entered ; and Mich
was tin- audacity of these vermin that none cared alone to lx> the first to plant
:!«• on his desk. But, by entering en masse, we ea-ily routed the i;,«ln,ii<i.
who.-r force- were driven to seek shelter behind the wainscot, where tli'-y would
scuttle, and urnaw, and scratch, before they finally withdrew, and left u* with
blue fingers and chattering teeth to study to make the best of it. Uncomfort-
able enough was the effort for the first ten minutes of the ses-ion ; but by
degrees tin- hopes of a possible warming of hands upon the siirf:cr of the
Dutch stoves after class, if they should have been lighted in time, and at any
rate the ct-rraintN of a hot breakfast, were entertained, and brought their con-
solation ; besides which, the being up in time to welcome in the dawn of the
dullest day, while health and liberty are ours, is a pleasure in itself There
was no exception to it here; for when the darkness, becoming every moment
nd less dark, had at length given way, and melted into a gray gloaming,
we would rejoice, even before it appeared, at the approach of a new day. That
approach was soon further heralded by the fitful notes of small day-birds chirp-
ing under the leaves, and anon by their sudden dashin-s against the windows,
in the direction of the lights not yet extinguished in the class-rooms. Presently
the pigs were heard rejoicing and contending over their fresh wash ; then the

13G STUDENT LIFE AT Y VERDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI.

old horse and the shaggy little donkey in the stable adjoining the styes, know-
ing by this stir that their feed was coming, snorted and brayed at the pleasant
prospect. The cocks had by this time roused their sleepy sultanas, who came
creeping from under the barn-door to meet their lords on the dunghill. Our
peacock, to satisfy himself that he had not taken cold during the night, would
scream to the utmost pitch of a most discordant voice ; then the prescient goats
would bleat from the cabins, and plaintively remind us that, till their door is
unpadlocked, they can get no prog; then the punctual magpie, and his friend
the jay, having hopped all down the corridor, would be heard screaming for
broken victuals at the school-room door, till our dismissal bell, finding so many
other tongues loosened, at length wags its own, and then for the next hour and
a half all are free to follow their own devices. Breakfast shortly follows ; but,
alas! another cold ceremony must be undergone first. A preliminary visit to-
pump court, and a thorough ablution of face and hands, is indispensable to
those who would become successful candidates for that long-anticipated meal.
This bleaching process, at an icy temperature, was never agreeable; but when
the pipes happened to be frozen — a contingency by no means unfrequent — and
the snow in the yard must be substituted for the water which was not in the
pump, it proved a difficult and sometimes a painful business ; especially as
there was always some uncertainty afterwards, whether the chilblained paws
would pass muster before the inspector-general commissioned to examine them
— who, utterly reckless as to how the boys might " be off for soap," and incred-
ulous of what they would fain attribute to the adust complexion of their skin,
would require to have that assertion tested by a further experiment at the
" pump head."

THE REFECTORY.

" Forbear to scoff at woes yon cannot feel,
Nor mock the misery of a stinted meal.11 — CRABBE.

The dietary tables at the chateau, conspicuous alike for the paucity and sim-
plicity of the articles registered therein, are easily recalled to mind. The fare
they exhibited was certainly coarse — though, by euphemism, it might have been
termed merely plain — and spare withal. The breakfast would consist of milk
and water — the first aqueous enough without dilution, being the produce of
certain ill favored, and, as we afterwards tasted their flesh, we may add ill-
flavored kine, whose impoverished lacteals could furnish out of their sorry
fodder no better supplies. It was London sky blue, in short, but not of the
Alderney dairy, which was made to serve our turn at Yverdun. This milk at
seven in summer, and at half past seven in winter, was transferred boiling, and
as yet unadulterated, into earthenware mixers, which had been previously half-
filled with hot water from a neighboring kettle. In this half-and-half state it
was baled out for the assembled school into a series of pewter platters, ranged
along the sides of three bare deal boards, some thirty feet long by two wide,
and mounted on tressels, which served us for tables. The ministering damsels
were two great German Fraus, rejoicing severally in the pleasing names of
Gretchen and Bessie. When Frau Gretchen, standing behind each boy, had
dropped her allowance of milk over his right shoulder — during which process
there was generally a mighty clatter for full measure and fair play — the other
Frau was slicing off her slices of bread from a brown loaf a yard long, which
she carried under her arm, and slashed clean through with wonderful precision
and address. It was now for all those who had saved pocket-money for menus-

STUDENT LIFE AT Y VERDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI. 137

plaisirs to produce their cornets of cinnamon or sugar, sprinkle a little into the
milk, and then fall to sipping and munching with increased zest and satisfac-
tion. So dry and chaffy was our pain de menage that none ventured to soak it
entire, or at once, but would cut it into fruslrnms, and retain liquid enough to
wash down the boluses separately. In a few minutes every plate was com-
pletely cleaned out and polished; and the cats, that generally entered the room
as we left it, seldom found a drop with which they might moisten their tongues,
or remove from cheeks and whiskers the red stains of murdered mice on which
they had been breaking their fast in the great tower. So much for the earliest
meal of the day, which was to carry us through five hours, if not of laborious
mental study, at least of the incarceration of our bodies in class, which was
equally irksome to them as if our minds had been hard at work. These five
hours terminated, slates were once more insalivated and put by clean, and the
hungry garrison began to look forward to the pleasures of the noon-day repast.
The same bell that had been calling so often to class would now give premon-
itory notice of dinner, but in a greatly changed tone. In place of the shrill
snappish key in which it had all the morning jerked out each short unwelcome
summons from lesson to lesson, as if fearful of ringing one note beyond the
prescribed minute, it now would take time, vibrate far and wide in its cage,
give full scope to its tongue, and appear from the loud increasing swell of its
prolonged oyez, to announce the message of good cheer like a herald conscious
and proud of his commission. Ding-dong! — come along ! Dinner's dishing! —
ding-dong ! Da capo and encore ! Then, starting up from every school-room
form throughout the chateau, the noisy boys rushed pell-mell, opened all the
doors, and, like emergent bees in quest of honey, began coursing up and down
right busily between the sallf-d-manger and the kitchen — snuffing the various
aromas as they escaped from the latter into the passage, and inferring from the
amount of exhaled fragrance the actual prepress of the preparations for eating.
Occasionally some "sly Tom" would peep into the kitchen, while the Fraus
were too busy to notice him, and watch the great cauldron that had been milked
dry of its stores in the morning, now discharging its aqueous contents of a
much-attenuated bouillon — the surface covered with lumps of swimming bread,
thickened throughout with a hydrate of potatoes, and colored with coarse,
insipid carrots, which certainly gave it a savory appearance. It was not good
broth — far from it, for it was both suft-greasy and super-salted ; but then it was
hot, it was thick, and there was an abundant supply. It used to gush, as we
have said, from the great stop-cock of the cauldron, steaming and sputtering,
into eight enormous tureens. The shreds of beef, together with whatever
other solids remained behind after the fluid had been drawn off, were next fished
up from the abyss with long ladles, and plumped into the decanted liquor.
The young gastronome who might have beheld these proceedings would wait till
the lid was taken off the saur kraut ; and then, the odor becoming overpower-
ingly appetizing, he would run, as by irresistible instinct, into the dining-room,
where most of the boys were already assembled, each with a ration of brown
bread in his hand, and ready for the Fraus, who were speedily about to enter.
The dinner was noisy and undented in the extreme — how could it be otherwise ?
•centre affame n'a point d'oreilles. Hardly was the German grace concluded, and
the covers removed, when that bone of contention, the marrow bone, was.
caught up by some big boy ne-ir the top of the table, and became the signal for
a general row. All in his neighborhood would call out second, third, fourth,.

138 STUDENT LIFE AT YVERDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI.

fifth, etc., for said bone; arid thus it would travel from plate to plate, yielding
its contents freely to the two or three first applicants, but wholly inadequate —
unless it could have resolved itself altogether into marrow — to meet all the
demands made upon its stores. Then arose angry words of contention, which
waxed hot as the marrow waxed cold, every candidate being equally vocifenms
in maintaining the priority of his particular claim. Earnest appeals in (ii-nnan,
French, Spanish, English, etc., were bandied from one to the other inconse-
quence, as to who hud really said apres toi first! At last the "dry bone" was
found undeserving of further contention ; and, ceasing to drop any more fat-
ness upon any boy's bread, the competition for it was dropped too. When
now we had half filled our stomachs with a soup which few physicians would
have withheld from their fever patients on the score of its strength, we threw
in a sufficiency of bread and amir knnit to absorb it; and, after the post prandial
German grace had been pronounced, the boys left the table, gem rally with a
saved crust in their pockets, to repair to the garden and filch — if it was filching
— an alliaceous dessert from the beds, which they washed in the clear stream,
and added, without fear of indigestion, to the meal just concluded within the
chateau. Most of us throve upon this Spartan diet; but some delicate boys,
unendowed with the ostrich power of assimilation usual at that period — for
boys, like ostriches, can digest almost anything — became deranged in their
chylopoietics, and continued to feel its ill effects in mesenteric and other chronic
ailments for years afterwards. An hour was given for stomachs to do their
work, before we re-assembled to ours in the clas>-r.><>m. At half-past four pre-
cisely, a goute was served out, which consisted of a whacking slice <>!' bread,
and either a repetition of the morning's milk and water, or cafe au lait, (without
sugar " bien entendu,") or twenty-live walnuts, or a couple of ounces of strong-
tasted grvyere, or a plateful of schnitz (cuttings of dried apples, pears, and
plums). We might choose any one of these several dainties we liked, but not
more. Some dangerous characters — not to be imitated — would occasionally,
while young Fran Schmidt stood doling out the supplies from her cupboard
among the assembled throng, make the disingenuous attempt to obtain cheese
with one hand and schnitz with the other. But the artifice, we are happy to
say, seldom succeeded ; for that vigilant lady, quick-eyed and active, and who,
of all things, hated to be imposed upon, would turn round upon the false claim-
ant, and bid him hold up both his hands at once — which he, ambidexter as he
was, durst not do, and thus he was exposed to the laughter and jeers of the
rest. At nine the bell sounded a feeble call to a soidisoit supper : but fi w of
us cared for a basin of tisane under the name of lentil soup— or a pappy potato,
salted in the boiling — and soon after we all repaired to our bed-rooms — made a
noise for a short time, then undressed, and were speedily asleep under our
duvets, and as sound, if not as musical, as tops.

Our common fare, as the reader has now seen, was sorry enough ; but we
had our Carnival and gala days as well as our Lent. Vater Festal ozzi's birth-
day, in summer, and the first day of the new year, were the most conspicuous.
On each of these occasions we enjoyed a whole week's holiday ; and as these
were also the periods for slaughtering the pigs, we fed (twice a year for a whole
week!) upon black puddings and pork <t discretion, qualified with a sauce of
beet-root and vinegar, and washed down with a fluid really like small beer.

CLASSES.

The school-rooms, which lay immediately under the dormitories on the
.ground floor, consisted of a number of detached chambers, each of which issued

STUDENT LIFE AT YVIIIIDUX UNDER PESTALOZZI l;)<)

upon a corridor. They were airy — there was plenty of air at Yverdun— and
loftv as became so venerable a building; but they were unswept, unscrubbed,
peeled of tlieir paint, and, owing to the little light that could find its. way
through two very small windows punched out of the fortress walls, presented,
save at mill-day, or as the declining sim illumined momentarily the dark recess,
as comfortless a set of interiors as you could well see. I', required, indeed, all
the elasticity of youth to bear many hours' daily incarceration in such black-
holes, without participating in the pervading gloom. Sueh dismal domiciles
were only tit resorts for the myoptic bat, who would occasionally visit them
from the old tower; for the twilight horde of cockroaches, which swarmed
along the floor, or the eight eyed spiders who colonized the ceiling The
tender sight, too, of a patient just recovering from ophthalmia would here have
required no factitious or deeper shade — but merits like these only rendered
them as un^-mal as possible to the physiology and feelings of their youthful
occupants. If these apartments looked gloomy in their dilapidations and want
of sun, the somber effect was much heightened by the absence of the ordinary
tallies and chairs, and whatever else is necessary to give a room a habitable
appearance Had an appraiser been commissioned to make out a complete list
of the furniture and the fixtures together, a mere glance had sufficed for the
inventory. In vain would his practiced eye have wandered in quest of themes
for golden sentences, printed in such uncial characters that all who run may
read; in vain for the high-hung well backed chart, or for any pleasing pictorial
souvenirs of .^Esop or the Ark, — neither these nor the long "colored Stream of
Time," nor formal but useful views in perspective, adorned our sorry walls.
No old mahogany ease clicked in a corner, beating time for the class, and the
'hour upstriking loud that it should not be defrauded of its dues. No gla/.ed
globe, gliding round on easy axis, spun under its brassy equator to the antip-
odes on its sides being touched. No bright zodiac was there to ekhibit its
cabalistic figures in pleasing arabesques. In place of these and other well-
known objects, here stood a line of dirty, much inked desks, with an equally
dirty row of attendant forms subjacent alongside There was a scantling — it
seldom exceeded a leash— of ricketty rush-bottom chairs distributed at long
intervals along the walls; a coal-black slate pegged high on its wooden horse ;
a keyless cupboard, containing the various implements of learning, a dirty
duster, a pewter plate with cretaceous deposits, a slop-basin, and a ragged
sponge; — and then, unless lie had included the cobwebs of the ceiling, (not
usually reckoned up in the furniture of a room,) no other moveables remained.
One conspicuous fixture, however, there was, a gigantic Dutch stove. This
lumbering parallelogram, faggot-fed from the corridor behind, projected several
feet into the room, and shone bright in the glaze of earthenware emblazonments.
Around it we would sometimes congregate in the intervals of class: in winter
to toast our hands and hind-quarters, as we pressed against the heated tiles,
with more or less vigor according to the fervency of the central fire ; and in
summer either to tell stories, or to con over the pictorial History of the Bible,
which adorned its frontispiece and sides. We cannot say that every square
exactly squared with even our schoolboy notions of propriety in its mode of
teaching religious subjects ; there was a Dutch quaintness in the illustrations,
which would sometimes force a smile from its simplicity, at others shock, from
its apparent want of decorum and reverence. Pre-eminent of course among
the gems from Genasis, Adam and Eve, safe in innocency and "naked truth,"

140 STUDENT LIFE AT YVERDUN UNDER PESTALOZ;:i.

here walked unscathed amidst a menagerie of wild beasts— Mm-, die sd in tin-
costume of their fall, they quitted Eden, and left it iu possession of timers,
bears, and crocodiles. Hard by on a smaller tile, that brawny "knave of clubs,"
Cain, battered down his brother at the altar; then followed a long picture-
gallery of the acts of the patriarchs, ami another equally long of the acts of
tin- apostles. But, queer as many of these misconceptions minht seem, they
were nothing to the strange attempts made at dramati/ing the parables of the
New Testament — e. g. a stout man, staggering tinder the weight of an enormous
beam which grows out of one eye, employs his liners, assisted hv the other, to
pick out a black speck from the cornea of his neighbor. Here, an unclean
spirit, as black as any sweep, issues from the mouth of his victim, with wings
and a tail! Here again, the good Samaritan, turbaned like a Turk, is bent
over the waylaid traveler, and pours wine and oil into his wounds from the
mouths of two Florence flasks; there, the grain of mustard seed becomes a
tree, sheltering already a largo aviary in its boughs; the woman, dancing a
hornpipe with the Dutch broom, has swept her house, and lo ! the piece of silver
that was lost in her hand : a -ervant, who is digging a hole in order to hide his
lord's talent under a tree, is overlooked by a magpie and two crows, who are
attentive witnesses of the deposit; — and many others too numerous to mention.
So much for the empty school-room, but what's a hive without bees, or a school-
room without boys? The reader who has peeped into it untenanted shall
now, if he pleases, be introduced, dum fervet opus full and alive. Should he
not be able to trace out very clearly the systmi at work, he will at least be no
worse off than the bee fancier, who hears indeed the buzzing, and sees a flux
and reflux current of his winged confectioners entering in and passing out, Imt
cannot investigate the detail of their labors any further. In the Yverdun. as
in the hymenopterus apiary, we swarmed, we Im/./i-d, dispersed, re assembled at
the sounf of the bell, flocked in and flocked out, all the day long; exhibited
much restlessness and activity, evincing that something was going on, but what
it woiild have been hard to determine. Here the comparison must drop Bees
buzz to some purpose ; they know what they are about ; they help one another :
they work orderly and to one end, —

" How skillfully they build the cell,
How neat they spread the wax,
And labor hard to store it well
With the nweet food," etc., etc.

In none of these particulars did we resemble the " busy bee." This being
admitted, our object in offering a few words upon the course of study pursued
at the chateau is not with any idea of enlightening the reader as to anything
really acquired during the long ten hours' session of each day ; but rather to
show how ten hours' imprisonment may be inflicted upon the body for the sup-
posed advantage of the mind, and yet be consumed in " profitless labor, and
diligence which maketh not rich " ; to prove, by an exhibition of their opposites,
that method and discipline are indispensable in tuition, and (if he will accept
our "pathemata" for his " mathemata," and guides in the bringing up of his
sons) to convince him that education, like scripture, admits not of private
interpretation. Those who refuse to adopt the Catholic views of the age. and
the general sense of the society in which they live, must blame themselves it
they find the experiment of foreign schools a failure, and that they have sent
their children "farther to fare worse."

STUDENT LIFE AT YVERDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI. j ||

And now to proceed to the geography class, which was the first after break-
ia>t. and hi'ii-iu at halt-pa.-t eight As the summons-hell sounded, the hovs
cume rushing and tumbling in. and ere a minute had elapsed were swarming1
over, and settling upon, the high reading desks the master, already at his
work, was chalking out the business of the hour , and as this took some little
time to accomplish, the youngsters, not to sit unemployed, would be assiduously
engaged in impressing sundry animal forms— among which the donkey was a
favorite — cut out iu cloth, and well powdered, upon one another's backs. When

Herr G had finished his chalkings, and was gone to the corner of the room

for his show-perch, a skeleton map of Europe might be seen, by those who
choose to look that way, covering the slate . this, however, was what the major-
ity of the a.— enilily never dreampt of, or only dreampt they were doing. The
class generally — though ready when called upon to give the efficient support of
their tongues — kept their eyes to gape elsewhere, and, like Solomon's fool, had
them where they had no business to be. The map, too often repeated to attract
from its novelty, had no claim to respect on other grounds. It was one of a
class accurately designated by that careful geographer, old Homer, as " fiaty ov
Kara Kna/nov." Coarse and clumsy, however, as it necessarily would be, it
might still have proved of service had the boys been the draughtsmen. As it

was, the following mechanically Herr G 's wand to join in the general

chorus of the last census of a city, the perpendicular altitude of a mountain,
or the length and breadth of a lake, could obviously convey no useful instruc-
tion to any one. But, useful or otherwise, such was our regim*, — to set one of
from fifty to sixty lads, day after day, week after week, repeating facts and
figures notorious to every little reader of penny guides to science, till all had
the last statistical returns at their tongue's tip, and knew, when 'all was done,
as much of what geography really meant as on the day of their first matricula-
tion. Small wonder, then, if some should later have foresworn this study, and
been revolted at the bare sight of a ma)) ' All our recollections of map, unlike
those of personal travel, are sufficiently distasteful Often have we yawned
wearily over them at Yverdun, when our eyes were demanded to follow the

titubations of Herr G '& magic wand, which, in its uncertain route, would

skip from Europe to Africa and back again— qui modo Thebas wodo me ponit
At hen is ; and our dislike to them since has increased amazingly. Does the
reader care to be told the reason of this1 Let him — in order to obtain the
pragmatic sanction of some stiff-necked examiner — have to "get up" all the
anastomosing routes of St. Paul's several journcyiugs , have to follow those
rebellious Israelites in all their wanderings through the desert , to draw the
line round them when in Palestine ; going from Dan to Beersheba, and " meting
out the valley of Succoth " ; or, finally, have to cover a large sheet of foolscap
with a progressive survey of the spread of Christianity during the three first
centuries — and he will easily enter into our feelings. To return to the class-
room The geographical lesson, though of daily infliction was accurately cir-
cumscribed in its duration. Old time kept a sharp look-out over his blooming
daughters, and never suffered one hour to tread upon the heels or trench upon
the province of a sister hour. Sixty minutes to all, and not an extra minute
to any, was the old gentleman's impartial rule ; and he took care to see it was
strictly adhered to. As the clock struck ten, geography was shoved aside by
the muse of mathematics. A sea of dirty water had washed out in a twinkling
all traces of the continent of Europe, and the palimpset slate presented a clean
face for whatever figures might next be traced upon it

14'J >Tt DENT LIFE AT YVERDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI.

The hour for Euclidizing was arrived, and ation the black parallelogram \vas
intersected with numerous triangles of the Isosceles and Scalene pattern ; but,
notwithstanding this promising debut, we did not make much quicker progress
here than in the previous lesson. How should we, who had not only the diffi-
culties inseparable from the subject to cope with, but a much more formidable
difficulty — vi/., the obstruction which we opposed to each other's advance, by
the plan, so unwisely adopted, of making all the cla.-s do the same thing, that
they might keep pace together. It is a polite piece of folly enough for a
whole party to be kept waiting dinner by a lounging guest, who chooses to ride
in the park when he ought to be at his toilet; but we were the victims of a
much greater absurdity, who lost what might have proved an hour of profitable
work, out of tenderness to some incorrigibly idle or Boeotian boy, who could
not get over the Pons Asinorum, (every proposition was a pons to some asinus
or other,) and so made those who were over stand still, or come back to help
him across. Neither was this, though a very considerable drawback, our only
hindrance — the guides were not always safe. Sometimes he who acted in that
capacity would shout " Eureka " too soon ; and having undertaken to lead the
van. lead it astray till just about, as he supposed, to come down upon the proof
itself, and to come down with a Q. E. D. : the master would stop him short,
and bid him — as Coleridge told the ingenious author of Guesses at Truth — "to-
guess again." But suppose the "guess" fortunate, or that a boy had even suc-
ceeded, by his own industry or reflection, in mastering a proposition, did it
follow that he would be a clear expositor of what he knew ? It was far other-
\\ise. Our young Archimedes — unacquainted with the terms of the science,.
and being also (as we have hinted) lamentably detective in his knowledge of.
the power of words — would mix up such a " fan-ago " of irrelevancies and rep-
etitious with the proof, as, in fact, to render it to the majority no proof at all.
Kuelid should be taught in his own words, — just enough and none to spare :
the employment of less must engender obscurity : and of more, a want of neat-
ness and perspicacity. The best geometrician ani-ni^st us would have cut but
a bad figure by the side of a lad of very avera^-.- ability brought up to know
Euclid by book.

Another twitch of the bell announced that the hour for playing at triangles -
had expired. In five minutes the slate was covered with bars of minims and
crotchets, and the music lesson begun. This, in the general tone of its delivery,
bore a striking r. semblance to the geographical one of two hours before; the-
only difference being that " ut, re, me," had succeeded to names of certain
cities, and " fa, so, la," to the number of their inhabitants. It \\<.uid be as-
vain an attempt to describe all the noise we made as to show its rationale or
motive. It was loud enough to have cowed a lion, stopped a donke\ in mid-
bray — to have excited the envy of the vocal Lablache, or to have sent any
pnma donna into hysterics. When this third hour had been bellowed away.
and the bell had rung unheard the advent of a fourth — presto — in came Mons

D , to relieve the meek man who had acted as corypha-us to the music class :

and after a little tugging had soon produced from his pocket that without
which you never catch a Frenchman— a thtmp. The theme heinir announced,
we proceeded (not quite tant lien que mat) to scribble it down at his diet; ti«m,
and to amend its orthography afterwards from a corrected copy on the slate.
Once more the indefatigable bell obtruded its tinkle, to proclaim that Ilerr Roth
was coming with n Fable of Gellert, or a chapter from Vater Pestalo/.x.i's serious ,

STUDENT LIFE AT YVEUDUN UMDER PESTALOZZI. 14$

novel, (iinnal und Lino, to read and expound, and catechise upon. This la<t
!«• > 'ii lu-i'oiv dinner was always accompanied hy frequent yawns and other un-
repressed symptoms of fatigue; and at its conclusion we all rose with a shout
ind rushed into the corridors.

On resuming work in the afternoon, there was even less attention and method
observed than before. The classes were then broken up, and private lessons
were given in accomplishments, or in some of the useful arts. Drawing dogs
and cows, with a master to look after the trees and the hedges; whistling and
spitting through a flute; playing on the patience of a violin; turning at a
lathe; or fencing with a powerful muttre d' Armes; — such were the general
occupations. It was then, however, that we English withdrew to our Greek

and Latin ; and, under a kind master, Dr. M , acquired (with the exception,

of a love for natural history, and a very unambitious turn of mind) al' that
really could deserve the name of education.

We have now described the sedentary life at the chateau. In the next paper
the reader shall be carried to the gymnasium ; the drill-ground behind the lake ;
to our small menageries of kids, Guinea-pigs, and rabbits; be present at our
ball and skating bouts in winter, and at our bathings, fishings, frog-spearings,
and rambles over the Jura in summer.

We regret not to have seen the second installment of this English boy's
Reminiscences of Student Life at Yverdun. If written, it was not pub-
lished in the magazine in which the first appeared. The student does
not appear to have appreciated or have profited by Pestalozzi's origi-
nal methods, which are herein so well set forth. He was not caught
young enough and had become too hardened in the unvitalized and
mere memory processes of the English public schools.

REMINISCENCES OF DR. MAYO.

We find in the reminiscences and life of another English visitor, who
became both student and assistant at Yverdun, a more hearty apprecia-
tion of the great educator's personal character, and the fruitful results
of his sojourn in the old feudal castle and in the somewhat noisy family
and not very wisely administered institution of Pestalozzi. We close
this chapter with an extract from a pamphlet issued by Rev. Charles
Mayo, LL.D., in 1826, giving the substance of several lectures deliv-
ered by him in the Hoyal Institution in Albemarle Street (founded by
that great practical educator and countryman of ours, Count Rumford —
Benjamin Thompson, of Walpole, Mass.), on the principles of Pesta-
lozzi's educational system. Dr. Mayo and his daughter introduced into
England the Pestalozzi improved methods of infant and child instruc-
tion, which were pursued in the Model and Training Schools, of the
Home and Colonial Society in London, and which Mr. Sheldon intro-
duced a quarter of a century later into the Model and Training Institu-
tion of Ostvrgo, N. Y.

Some years ago an Irish gentleman, traveling through Yverdun, in the Pays
de Viiud, was prevailed on to spend a couple of hours in the Institution of
iV-talozzi The iirst class he inspected was carried on in a language not famil-
iar to him, yet was In- much struck with the intelligence and vivacity portrayed
in the features of the pupils. But when, the following hour, he witnessed the

j 44 STUDENT LIFE AT YVEBDUN UNDER PESTALOZZI.

power of the method in its application to arithmetic, he discovered in the schol-
ars a clear conception of number and its relations, a precision and rapidity in
mental calculation, and an animation and interest in their employment, which
convinced him that a secret had been discovered by Pestalozzi, and he was
resolved, if possible, to penetrate it. The proposed visit of two hours termin-
ated at the expiration of three months ; nor wns his admiration of the method
confined to a bare speculative reception of the principles ; he transplanted into
his own country the practical truths he had learned in Switzerland, and though
Providence has interrupted the course of his more extended labors, he still, in
the bosom of his own family, applies the lessons of Pestalozzi, and teaches his
children to revere his name. It was not a theoretical examination of the method
that effected this conviction and animated to these exertions ; it was a personal
view of the practical influence of the system, in scenes lit up by the genius and
warmed with the benevolence of Pestalozzi himself. Could I transport you in
thought to the scenes where Pestalozzi lived, and taught, and suffered with his
scholars, tin- heart would feel even before the understanding discerned the
beauty, the truth of his principles. A skeleton view of his system might lead
you to a cold approbation of his views, Tbat it must be the living, the breathing
portraiture of the man that must awaken your love, and dispose you to imitate
what you have learned to admire. I have seen him surrounded by his pupils,
have marked the overflowings of his tenderness; I have read in a thousand
traits of good-nature the confirmation of his history. I have witnessed the
affecting simplicity, the abandon with which he speaks of all he has done and
essayed to do for humanity. Could I convey to others the sentiments I feel for
him, Pestalozzi would be loved and honored as he deserves. Three years of
intimate connection with him, every day marked with some proof of his affec-
tion, may well have knit my heart to his; and among the most cherish. d r, -col-
lections of the past is, that Pestalo/./.i honored me with his friendship, and
thanked me for cheering his decline.

HENRY (LORD) BROUGHAM.

Among the English visitors to Pestalozzi, whose testimony to the
originality and value of his methods as well as to the disinterested
character of the man, before the Education Committee of 1818, car-
ried immense weight wherever the proceedings of the English parlia-
ment were known, was Henry Brougham. He commenced in 1816 that
public agitation of the claims of the people to better schools which
culminated in the legislation of 1870.

It was Pestalozzi and men of his type who inspired the Great
Commoner of England, as Henry Brougham was called before a title
had confounded him with a group of much inferior men, with his
exalted estimate of the schoolmaster in his peaceful vocation.

"His calling is high and holy; his fame is the property of nations; his
renown will fill the earth in after ages in proportion as it sounds not far off in
his own time. Each one of these great teachers of the world, possessing his
soul in peace, performs his appointed course, —awaits hi patience the fulfillment
of the promises, — resting from his labors, bequeaths his memory to the genera-
tion whom his works have blessed, — and sleeps under the humble but not inglo-
rious epitaph, commemorating one in whom mankind lost a friend, and no man
got rid of an enemy."
'

PESTALOZZIANISM IN GERMANY,

JOHAAN GOTTLIEB FICHTE.

JOHAAN GOTTLIEB FICHTE, whose rousing addresses to the Ger-
man nation in behalf of National Education on the Pestalozzian
system, in the hour of her greatest humiliation, was worth more
than a victorious onset of arms against her foes, was born at Ram-
menau, in Upper Lusatia, in 1762, of parents of Swedish de-
scent, and in humble circumstances. His father was a ribbon
weaver, and the son was indebted for his superior opportunities
of education to the Baron Von Miltitz, who secured a place for
him first in a clergyman's family at Niederau, then at the town
school at Meissen, and at the Princes' school at Pforta (1774-80),
closing with higher and larger opportunities at Jena and Leipsic.

While a private tutor at Zurich (1789 to 1792), he became
acquainted with the educational views of Pestalozzi, and with
Johanna Rahn, a neice of the poet Klopstock, to whom he was
married in 1793.

Thus equipped he entered the field of intellectual and moral
philosophy, and by his publications and lectures achieved a repu-
tation which ranks him high among the great thinkers of Germany,
and by his bold advocacy of a national system of popular and
liberal education, when a foreign army had possession of all the
fortresses and cities of the country, entitles him to a place among
the world's great educators. His death, in 1812, cut short the
influential career which his connection with the new University of
Berlin opened.

FICHTE'S ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN PEOPLE, 1809.
Fichte's addresses to the German people belong primarily to the
political history of the nation in the period of its deepest humil-
iation, but they are well entitled to a distinguished and honor-
able place in its literary and educational annals. Among the
many striking phenomena of that eventful period, there is none
that exceed in real interest and instructiveness this one of a liter-
ary man, single handed and surrounded by foreign troops, setting
before him as a duty which he of all others was called upon to
fulfil, the task of a people's regeneration. Uniting the patriot's

14tt PESTALOZZIANI8M IN GERMANY.

enthusiasm with the prophet's inspiration, Fichte raised a voice-
which rang through every corner of Germany, and summoned to*
the rescue of his country, all that remained of nobleness and
devotion among her sons. It was to no vain display of military
glory that he roused and directed their efforts; he sought to erect
the structure of his country's future welfare and fame on a far
deeper and surer foundation. In strains of the most fervid and
impassioned eloquence he pointed out the true remedies for the
national degradation, the culture of moral dignity, spiritual free-
dom, and mental independence. In these addresses he first
announced the plan, and delineated all the chief features of tl at
celebrated system of public instruction which has since been de-
veloped to the inestimable benefit of Prussia, and raised her in
this respect to a proud preeminence among the nations of Europe.
Never were a people called upon to arouse themselves to a nobler
enterprise, and never was such a summons pealed forth in tones
of more manly and spirit-stirring energy.

These addresses were fourteen in number. After speaking of
the general principles of the new education which he proposed,
Fichte devoted several lectures to the question of national charac-
teristics, to the main difference between the German and tho
other Teutonic peoples, as revealed in history, and in their general
life, and to the question of what really constituted a nation in the
higher significance of the term, as well as what constitutes true
patriotism. In the tenth address he comes to a more definite
treatment of the details of the education which he proposes; and
in the addresses which follow, he points out the classes on whom
rest the responsibility of executing this plan, and what are the
proper means of its execution. We cite a few passages from the
tenth address on Pestalozzi and his system.

"Pestalozzi must needs remain in the history of our age one of the-
most extraordinary and beautiful phenomena. This his contemporaries
fed; posterity \\ifl Appreciate it still more deeply."

To the course of instruction which has lu-cn invented and l>nniLrlit
forward by Henry Pestalozzi, and which is now being successfully carried
out under his direction — must we look for our regeneration. . . With
thi< system of popular education for the entire rising generation must the-
nation address itself — at once and persistently.

It will be seen from the following pages, taken from the His-
tory of Primary Public Instruction in Prussia (Barnard's National
Education in Different Countries; volume one — German States,
pp. 360-69), that the trial of Pestalozzianism in Normal and Mod-
el Schools had already begun before Fichte's eloquent voice had
been heard in its advocacy.

IN GERMANY 147

Dr. Diesterweg concludes his Pestalozzian centennial discourse at Bei
lin in 1846 as follows:

By these men and these means — men trained in the Institution at
Y verdun under I'otalo/./.i and the study of his publication, and the appli-
cation of these principles in the model and normal schools of Prussia
after 1808, was the present Prussian or rather Prussian-Pestalozzian
school system established — for he is entitled to at least half the fame of
the <;ennan popular schools. Whatever of excellence or eminence they
have, they really owe to no one but him. Wherever his principles have
been deviated from, there has followed a decline. \Yhatever of progress- \
yet remain* visible is a development of his principles. Whatever in our
.1 is based on human nature, is taken from him. His experiments
have secured their world-wide fame to the German schools. From
France. England, Italy, Spain, Russia, Poland, Norway, Sweden,
Holland, Denmark, America, whoever desires to study the best schools, *•
resorts to Germany. Whatever fame they have, they owe to Pestalo/./.i.
Wise people have made use of his creations for orirani/.imr improved in
stitutions for training teachers. But the first impulse was given to the
movement by the noble Swiss. As the waters flow from that land in
every direction, in like manner have fruitful principles of instruction been
diffused from it into every country where improvement can be detected.

The men and women by whom especially the method and spirit of
iozzi were diffused in Germany are : Frederick William III and his-
Consort Louise ;* state councilors Nicolovius and Suvern ; the philoso-
pher Fichte. by his immortal addresses to the German nation ; high school-
councilor Zeller in Konii:>berg; the Prussian teachers trained at Y ver-
dun; namely, Kawerau, Dn i-i, Ilenning, Braun, Steger, Marsch. the two
Bernhards, Hanel, Titze, Runge, Baltrusch, Pat/in. Preus>. Krat/, and
Rendschmidt ; royal and school councilor Von Turk in Potsdam : ^ mi-
narv director (Jruner in Idstein; professor Ladomus in Cailsruhe; the
prelate Hen/el in E^lingen; seminary-director Stern in Carlsruhe; prin-
cipal Plamaun, in Berlin; seminary director Harnisch in Breslaa; Karo-
line Rudolphi in Heidelberir: P»<-tty Gleim in Bremen and Elbcrfcld;
Ramsaucr, royal tutor in Oldenberg; professor Schacht in Mentz; M m
inary-inspector Kruirer in Hun/.lau; seminary director Hientzsch in Pots-
dam; principal Scholz in Breslau; Dr. Tillich in Dessau; director Bloch-
mann in Dresden; principal Ackermann in Frankfort on the Mayne;.
principal de Laspe in Wiesbaden; seminary-inspector Wagner in Bri'ihl;
seminary director Braun in Neuwied; seminary-preceptor Muhl in Trier;
seminary-director (iraffmann in Stettin; eatechi-t Kroger in Hamburg-
inspector Collmann in Cassel; and others. By means of these men.
the Pestalozzian common schools were set in operation throughout all
Germany; and in Prussia, the Prus-iaii-Pestalozzian system. As during
IVstalo/./.i's life Y verdun was a place of pilgrimage for teachers, so after-
ward, from Europe, America, and elsewhere, men came to observe the
German and Prussian common schools.

•Queen Louise. \\hn superintended (he education of her own children, visited frequently
tin- schools o-omliictccl on the plans and im-thoils nf IVstalozzi. s|»eii(lin<r hours in each visitw
and aided in many ways those who labored to regenerate the popular schools of Prussia.

148 I'lin.ir i.\srui < THIN IN nn ^-i \

A. General Historical Remarks.

1. It is these men who laid the foundation of the real power of Prussiat
and whose labors made the steady development of a true system of
public education possible, compared with which, all that had been done
before must appear poor, of subordinate value, and of a merely prepara-
tory character. The inhabitants <>f towns, not to speak of the peasant.-,
had hitherto been scarcely willing to be educated, however earnestly the
government labored in their behalf. A man of the rural population, >till
kept in bondage, could not become a teacher, even if he had been willing,
unless his grace the feudal lord consented, who, as Rochow himself says,
was "king of Prussia'' on his estate. Abbot Stcinmetz of Klostei
actually boasted in 1737 that Magdeburg were a good plare in whi.-h to
procure pupils for his normal school from among the immigrating foreign
journeymen ; the feudal lords, too, who were at his " pedagogium," con-
ducted by him in Klostei l>er«ren, frequently left servants who wu-e ii.-
convenient as candidates for schoolmasterships at the normal school,
instead of taking them along with tin in to the University. We ivad in
Krucnitz's "The Village Schools, Berlin, IT'.'l :" "The schooling
either a soldier, school-boy, servant, or he ha> l>em preceptor, famulus
or domestic to a member of the consistory." " Those of the tirst named

MS of life, mostly show great looseness in morals, and an- ig-
norant of the duties of their future po>ition ;" nor does he say any thing
favorable of the others. The teachers, as a class, were mostly recruited
in a peculiar manner, somewhat similar to the 'strand-right.' Frederic
II was certainly not so very wrong, seeing the difficulty of filling the
vacancies or increasing the number of teachers, when he calls his invalid
corporals a source from which any supply could be drawn. A sullicimt
number of teachers, coming regularly and freely from the people, could
not be relied on whilst servitude existed. So long as the ma>s of a people
consists of bondmen, who expend their best energies in working for their
lords, receiving the poorest pay, so long can they have no inducement
tly to try to develop their intellectual powers or to educate their
children. It is scarcely just to call it want of moral power, when they
betray opposition to their children's attending school ; they are sullen,
they are indifferent, they are altogether morally crushed. Why learn
any thing, many a father may have asked, when the children have no
other prospect but villein socage ? And this may perhaps make it com-
prehensible why Sack, the counselor of the consistory, ventured to say
publicly : "It sounds very fine, when we speak of the family of a hard-
working peasant, sitting round their comfortable hearth on long winter
evenings, listening to the father or son, as he reads from a useful book ;
but this is certainly nothing but an ideal, which will do very well for a
romance, but which can scarcely be realized in this matter-of-fact world,
at least in the Mark, for some time to come." And the peasants of the
Mark were not worse off than those of other sections.

2. Frederic William III deserves the highest praise for having lifted

I'l HI.H l.NMUl ( 1ION IN IMU'SWIA. 14Q

from tin- nir;il population the weight of serfdom, which prevented all
development <>f the pcojil.-, and for having placed them in a condition to
become free men. The nation awoke, after the reform of the State organ-
ization, to the consciousness of its power, and developed it; a sufficient
number of well qualified individuals of the rural population showed
henceforth a stead ilv increa.-ing desire to become teachers or to acquire
know -ledge. The >eed scattered during school time could now take root
and thrive in town and village. The town population derived at the
same time great advantages from the new " city constitution,'' which
granted them the right of self-government, under the liberal control of
the State. It may so happen, that even at the present time the aldermen
<-f >»>iiie poor little towns, far di>tant from active commercial intercourse,
have not yet done all that could be desired, i. e. there may be such places
in which the schools have not yet been properly established and cared for ;
yet the town-schools of Prussia have reached such development and have
been M» liberally endowed during the fifty years of the existence of the
city constitution, that ail preceding efforts appear trifling, and their future
rity is fully assured. This is especially true of Berlin.*
ies the liberal legislation which made it possible that schools could
tiouri>h, other expedients were employed by which the improvement and
extension of public schools in Prussia were promoted. The assistance
of new and progressive elements from abroad was introduced, as for ex-
ample by Carl August /eller (1809) of Wiirtemburg; and by many able
men, who were sent into other countries to obtain there not only a better
understanding of the great problems of human culture, but to be inspired
with greater enthu>ia>m for their solution. In the letter which Baron
von Altenstein, then at the head of the education section of the depart-
ment of the Interior, afterwards Minister of Education and Worship,
wrote, under date of September llth, 1808, to Pestalozzi, he says : "the
young men to be >ent mu>t draw information at the purest source, must
study not some branches of your >ystem of education and instruction,
but become intimately penetrated with its animating spirit, must learn
how all the branches work in their mutual relation and in their intimate
connection; must learn, under the guidance of its venerable originator
and hi d assistants, how to apply it; must, in the intercourse

with you, not only thoroughly develop their intellects, but also warm
their hearts for their duties as educators ; must become animated with
the >ame convictions of the sacredness of their duties and with the same
ardent desire, which inspired you to devote your whole life to iff Thus
were gathered a large number of young men from Prussia round Pesta-

* Fur the very in-triictiv.- hi-tnry of the development <>f public instruction in that city, which
takes precedence of all other cities in the liberal expenditure for the establishment and mainte-
nance of public schools, see the .Idmini-trntirr Reports on schools of the city of Berlin, which
have been drawn up nnd published by the mngistrate of Berlin, annually, since 1842. Those from
1851 to 1860 are republished in the ''Berliner Blattter" (1864.) No. 2 to 20. Consult also
Studies on the Mark, Vol. IX. ; Dietr. Ritterhausen : Contribution* to the history of the Berlin
•iturij .-r/ino/.*, I'.iTlri. 1-04. pfijro 144.

t Stolzcnberg's Contriln r/»/i> to Hi-t,,r>i. p. -.'.

150 ITMI.ir INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA.

loz/i ; who faithfully garnered up the teachings of that Swiss educator,
brought them into their country, cultivated and developed them, as the
head of recently-established normal schools, or as members of the Board
«»f Kducation, according to the peculiar condition and the wants of the
country, and rendered the name of Pestalozzi better known and honored
than it had ever been before. Among these were llennig and Dreist of
Riigenwalde in Pomerania, Kawerau of Elbing, Kratz of Winzig in Si-
lesia, Renschmidt of Rosenburg in Silesia, Preuss and Patzig of Kast
Prussia; the brothers Bernhard of Halle, Ilaenel of Breslau, Stegcr of
Prus>ia, Marsh of Silesia, Ksionzek of East Prussia, Titze of Silesia,
Runge, later in Potsdam and Bromberg, and Baltrusch of East Prussia.

It was quite natural that the Pestalozzian school, as it may be called
for brevity's sake, (it originated with Pestalozzi, yet it was intellectually
and popularly, though not politically, developed in Prussia, whilst it re-
mained unchanged in other German States,) took hold of, or rather placed
itsi-lf in connection with, every thing that could be rendered useful.
Thus (1.) all that had reference to the country, its geography and his-
tory, were taught with the German language, from a pedagogic and pat-
ri<>ti 'point of view ; (2,) Vocal exercises, in the social meetings, from
which the modern singing societies, even the singing festivals, derive
their origin ;* (3,) Instruction in drawing, principally promoted by the
private drawing school of Peter Schmidt in Berlin; (4,) Instruction in
music ; (5.) Perfect development of the body, either by placing them-
selves in connection with already existing establishments for physical
culture, ( TnriKtnatalten,) or establishing new ones.

The Prussian Pestalozzi school was essentially religious, and had even
more of positive Christianity than the original school itself of Pestalozzi,
yet it tolerated all difference of opinion ; it was more religious and tol-
erant than its age. Though active in various directions, it had a sound
foundation ; though narrow-minded in some respects, it had a liberalizing
principle; it inspired patriotism in the hearts of the young; it showed
courage in its weakness ; the friendly hand of government assisted it in
its troubles, and therefore it has attained glory and produced glory.
King Frederic William IV was well acquainted with Pestalozzi's ideas,
and he wrote to the founders of the German Pestalozzian sehool : "The
spirit which animated Pestalozzi in his life and actions was that of moral
earnestness, of humility, and of self-sacrificing love of these Christian
virtues, which he, inspired by something higher, exercised during all his
life, although the true understanding of the source from which he de-
rived his power, was only revealed to him in later years. For he himself
confessed to me that he had found in Christianity alone the comfort
which he had formerly sought in vain in a different direction."

3. The government of the State, in the hands of men like Silvern,
Nicolovius, and other noble spirits, was little, influenced by customs,

*The ninging societies of men (Maennergesang fercine,) owe their origin and development
mainly to Fr. Wilh. Berner, music teacher at the Normal School in Breslau, 1813.

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA. 151

many of which experience had proved to be decrepid and worn out, but
were animated by an ideal which appeared to promise the realization of
their hopes. The Prussian government, with faith in the regenerating
power of a true national education, determined to introduce it. And
thus it was that Prussia, still smarting under Napoleon's scourge, took
for some time the lead of all the German States, not by issuing more or
less ineffective decrees, but by actual experiments in the details of na-
tional education. There was spirit and life in Prussia, there was much
activity in doing and liberty in contriving, with little outward parade.
Any foreigner, visiting Prussia, might observe that the vitalizing breath
•of government, like the spirit of God, was acting upon the whole people.
Even the less impulsive could riot help being influenced and carried
away by this career of progress, because the government showed a firm
resolution to press right on toward the desired goal. The work was cer-
tainly begun at the root, by the most earnest endeavor to create a body
of professional teachers for public schools ; which class of men, consid-
ering either their education, or their number, or their origin, or by any
law, did not exist. There were plenty of sacristans, school-keepers, and
their assistants, but in truth no real teachers of the people. How could
there have been any demand for such teachers before there was a people?
There always were, in Prussia as well as elsewhere, individuals, noble-
men, citizens, peasants, common people, but there was no Prussian
people, no nation in the kingdom of Prussia. Frederic William III has
created it, essentially by the abolition of serfdom, verbally by his sub-
sequent appeal " To my people," which brought every individual into a
close community of a common life, death, battle, and victory, with its
king ; and induced all to embark in an enterprise and to pass through
trials, the most sacred which exist for a nation. The youths of that
nation, no longer in the state of serfdom, but faithful to their king to the
death, required teachers, if there was any real intention of educating
them. This work could hardly be done either by the buckram old sa-
cristans, or by the class of schoolmasters, recruited from among ancient
tailors. It was the older Pestalozzians, so graphically characterized by
Harnisch, who were the progenitors of the older and middle-aged teachers
in the Eastern provinces, and among whom a great variety of shades of
opinion may be observed. In Saxony, for instance, the education of the
teachers — if it may be so called — received a certain coloring from the
rationalism of the clergymen. New normal schools were established
every year, mostly by the government, but also by private enterprise,
particularly in Saxony, to satisfy the increasing demand for teachers
among them. There were new normal schools in Karalene (1811,)
Braunsberg (1810,) Marienburg (1814,) Jenkau, (1815,) Graudenz (1817,)
Neuzelle (1817,) Coeslin (1816,) one in 1816 in connection with the
orphan asylum in Bunzlau (founded 1744.) Older establishments were
reorganized, as the Evangelic normal school in Breslau in 1812 (founded
1753 ;) the Catholic normal school in Breslau in 1813 (founded 1765 ;

l.VJ PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA.

the old Benin seminary for sacristans was transferred to Potsdam irv
1817. The work of educating teachers was carried on in many of the-
most favored of these establishments, perhaps with a one-sided zeal, but
always with an earnestness and with a success which reflects honor on
their founders and directors. Nor can their merits be disputed of having
given the main impulse to public education, of having been its principal
promoters, of having laid the foundation to the structure of the national
M'stcm of schools, whose magnificence is now so evident, and which had
never before existed, or even been thought possible in any country. In
these institutions, mental powers were awakened, young men educated,,
grown men inspired with enthusiasm for the welfare of the nation,
methods devised, materials found out and rendered useful, objects of
teaching rendered accessible to public schools, expedients for a better
school administration pointed out, institutions proposed — all of which
undoubtedly bear witness to an activity never thought of before. Schools
multiplied, books for teachers and pupils were written, pedagogic period
icals published;* all of which favored the growth of a literature I'm-
teachers, who, as a class, became more and more prominent, educated,
and respected, whilst they were formerly scarcely known and never
mentioned. Labor, for those who were active in the normal schools at
that time, was a real enjoyment ; the school was considered the nn-nt*
vagus of the organism of the State, and the instrument by which life
was to be reformed, ennobled, and elevated. " The teachers could not
but work with their whole heart for the advancement and glory of the
country. They would eat and drink, of course ; the Searcher of hearts
knows that they in their weakness tried to advance their professional and
individual honor, and that they frequently were feeble laborers in His
empire ; but they possessed a consciousness which others did not pos-
-•-- ; they felt that they were not only instructors, not only school-
masters, but also educators of the nation without being demagogues,
friends of the people without being their flatterers, and they had great
influence over their minds." " The Prussian Pestalozzi school was intrin-
sically religious; it spread all over the country from 1812 to 1820, having
been, though in the beginning, with a certain caution, very properly rec-
ommended to its young advocates by the authorities, because many
organs of State and school, lost in their old-fashioned practice, considered
them suspicious innovators." Harnish believes he is justified in saying
"that in 1820 to 1825 the spirit of modern school-organization had
become the ruling spirit of education in the whole Prussian empire."
This extension was greatly assisted by certain courses of lectures, (i. e.
those delivered by Bernhard, Tuerk, and others,) as well as by teachers'
associations, the best known and most influential of which was that in
Berlin, (now called the Elder Teachers' Association,) and another in

• Among them may be mentioned ''The School Adviser on the Oder," 1814 to 1819, a period-
ical which represents the vigorous spirit of thnt time, edited by the director of the Catholic
norinnl school. Dr. D. Krueger, nnd the director of the Evnnnelic. normal school, Dr. W. Hnrnish,
in a spirit of harmonious teacher fellowship never before evinced.

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN 1'IllSSIA. 153-

uiii. The principal centres, from which this spirit radiated, were the
normal schools; wherefore the most prominent counselors of the Board
of Kducation were more or less in connection with them. This is espe-
cially true of Tuerk, Bernhard, Schroer, Gass, Sckeyde, and Neumann.
All these men, laboring in the same spirit, were in intimate cooperation,
being either personally acquainted with each other from the start, or
brought together by personal visits or correspondence.

Official Reaction against Pestatozzianism.

4. During the great events of 1813 to 1815, and as long as their glow-
ing fire continued to inspire statesmen and leaders of the people, i. e. till
1819, it was difficult to decide whether the schools derived their import-
ance from the life which surged around them, or whether their importance
was due to their intrinsic power, very carefully fostered by the State
authorities. Up to that time the friends of the national schools in Prussia
had been animated by an exclusively educational zeal. But soon after
1817, in which year the king had created a separate ministry for eccle-
siastic and medical affairs, and for instruction, and given it to Baron von
Altenstein, other influence obtained ascendancy over the government
both of Prussia and other States. The school had become an organ of
the body politic, both of the State and in the affection of the people,
which could not be undervalued; the school, which, in the opinion of
some over-cautious men, had taken an indiscreet, progressive course, was
checked, though at first mildly, in its apparently too ardent zeal. The
encouragements of the authorities were no longer cheering, natural, frank,
or frequent ; the authorities, who had formerly favored and actually fos-
tered the Pestalozzian spirit and method among teachers, especially in
Silesia and other Eastern provinces, allowed it to be felt that a degree of
displeasure had been produced by the openly expressed desire to infuse
more of that spirit into public education ; and they even took occasion
to express to Pestalozzians their dissatisfaction of the strict observance
of the methods of their school, without being able to propose any remedy
or substitute. They considered it necessary to advise tlu-m not to act too
ra>hly, not to attempt to teach, to try or to oppose too much at the time
being. They then began to speak of attempting too much, and recom-
mended and praised moderation. The time arrived when they dared to
speak of u the limited intellect of a subject, as though a subject was not
a citizen and a man." Who would like to describe that period of reac-
tion, after having lived through it? For the young, who did not, it has
been delineated with sufficient power in Menzel's general history, (vol.
xii, p. 80, sq.) But the normal schools had diffused already too much
fresh blood and spirit into the teachers of the so-called " old provinces,"
and the previous magnanimous administration had allowed it to affect
the schools too far, that the fire which they themselves had kindled,
could be easily quenched.

Silesia had been placed in advance of the other provinces by the influ-

154 PUBLIC JNsnii c IIO.N I.N i-ui »i.\

ence of young Harnisch,* in Breslau and later in Bunzlau, under the con-
fiding and inspiring administration of president Mcrkel, and of Gass, the
counselor of the consistory. A clergyman of the Mark represents in
" School-counselor," (Schulrath on the Oder, page 120,) the Silesian
schools which he had seen, to be superior to those of the Mark ; they
were certainly superior to those of Saxony, which had been under the
Westphalian regime. Why should Harnisch have been transferred from
Silesia to Saxony, unless for the purpose of purifying these institutions
of their spirit of trivial rationalism, (established by Dinterand Zerrenner,
who had bee*i considered the true guardians of education,) and to instil
into the minds of the young generation of teachers, sounder Prussian ideas
and feelings.

Superintendent Handel labored in Neisse in harmony with Harnisch,
though with more moderation, calling to his assistance Christian Gottlieb
Scholz, (later so well known as a practical schoolman by his many wri-
tings, and by his zeal,) and published with him together the " Schulbote"
which was widely circulated and read in the province.

Tuerk had initiated rather than effected a radical reform in Potsdam,
when Strieg, now honorably pensioned, began his beneficent activity as
director of the normal school, later as counselor of the Board of Kduca-
tion, and continued to work with zeal and success for many years by his
sound judgment and moderation.

There was in Berlin, even in 1825, when Beckedorf began to publish
his periodical, no remarkable pedagogic zeal.

15. HISTORICAL REMARKS ON TUB SEVERAL NEWLY-ACQUIRED PROVINCES.

1. Saxony.

a. The province of Saxony, containing four hundred and sixty square
miles, with two millions of inhabitants, mostly Evangelic, is partly
composed of portions of the oldest hereditary possessions, partly of
comparatively recent acquisitions, (duchy of Magdeburg, principalities of
Halberstadt and Erfurt, the former cities of the empire, Miihlhausen,
Nordhausen, and portions of the Eichsfeld,) and lastly of a portion of
the kingdom of Saxony. That is, it was formed of portions of Germany
in which the Reformation had its birthplace, and where the German
organization of schools had been first accepted by the people. WThen the
districts before mentioned were annexed by Prussia, there was no neces-
sity for the government to establish schools ; it had only to foster and to
improve them. Magdeburg with Klosterbergen, Halle with its Francke
foundation, Halberstadt with its teachers, became c.-ntres for a quiet but
not ineffective instructional activity ; so were Erfurt and Miihlhausen, in
their own way and according to their power, though the district of the
Altmark left much to be desired for a long time. The schools, particu-
larly those in the country, bore, in form and nature, more or less the
character of those of the other German States of the same religious con-

* See Hnrnisch " The Morning of My Life."

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA. 155

fessioii and family, viz., the teachers were mostly sacristans who taught
according to old routine, and were destitute of any progressive spirit ;
the arrangements were poor and traditional ; their effect on general edu-
cation very moderate. The intrinsic value of the schools in the province
of Saxony was measured by the capacity of individual teachers; the tra-
ditional institutions offered no other obstacle to their development than
the teachers themselves. Where there happened to be teachers of talent,
zeal, and self-acquired education — and where among the clever men in
Saxony, where among Evangelic men had such teacher ever been abso-
lutely wanting? — there were some schools which might be held out as
patterns to others. Franke's pedagogic efforts in Halle, and the activity
•of the philanthropists in Saxony and Thuringia had always kept alive a
feeble and intermittent love of instruction and education among clergy-
men and teachers.*

I. When the districts beyond the Elbe were torn from the Prussian
monarchy in 1807, to form the so-called Westphalian kingdom, their
administration came under the influence of Jerome's government, estab-
lished in Cassel ; and their schools were not in a very favorable condi-
tion. How could a work be done in those times of war, which can
flourish only in peace ; how, in those days of intense and universal
selfishness, could the Held of education, which requires self-denial and
•devotion, be tilled ? There were at that time clergymen and teachers
enough, whose labors had no other object than to earn the applause and
the favor of the ministers who ruled in Cassel. Zerrenner in Magdeburg,
•clergyman, teacher, director of the normal school, &c., did not shrink
from the task of composing and publishing a ''Westphalian Children's
Friend," and to dedicate it to a prominent man of the Westphalian
bureaucracy, in order to show Westphalian patriotism. He gained by
the book honor and position, and thus a great influence over teachers
and schools ; it brought Magdeburg into the repute of being foremost in
the organization of city schools, and in an effective system of instruction.
With the hunianitarianism, the dignity, the circumspection and prudence
peculiar to him, he organized the schools of the district according to his
own views, and succeeded by his utilitarianism and sentimentality in sat-
isfying the population of those districts. Some of his disciples have
even been able to make their fortune by the liberal use of Zerrenner's
writings and precepts.

c. The centre of the pedagogic activity in the formerly Prussian
Saxony, Halle, having allowed Franke's spirit to escape from among
them, had ceased to be the representative of the Saxon views of an im-
proved system of instruction and education. Niemeyer's eclecticism
could not obtain or restore this influence either by his pedagogic lectures
or by his three volumes of " Principles of education and instruction"
The centre of gravity had shifted to Dresden, at the time when Dinter
had become a prominent ecclesiastic and pedagogic individual. If Zer-
renner may be called the magnus Apollo, then Dinter deserves to be

* Barnard's " German Educational Reformers"

156 PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA.

Kotv6s of the rational and sentimental art of teaching at that time."
Their names had a great inHuenee with the teachers, their clever method
in teaching gained them friends, their comprehensive writings were con-
sidered to be very practical and very useful by the teachers of the Elbe
districts of Prussia and Saxony, and even in other places where Pesta-
lozzi's method has never been able to gain a firm footing. Dinter made
I'e.-talo/xi the hero of a satirical poem, which he published in Erfurt, and
with which the publishers made me a present, some years later ; subse-
quently he declared Pestalozzi, in the Napoleonic style of those years, to
be king of the lower classes, whilst he exalted Socrates to the leadership-
of the higher, at the same time reserving for himself a position above both.
Zerrenner, the eclectic and diluted mixture of Von Rochow, Bascdow, and
Niemeyer, considered Pestalozzi to be a man who inconvenienced himself
and his disciples a great deal too much by the amount of activity which
he desired and made necessary ; the same results could, in his opinion,
be obtained much easier by the gentle application of enlightening inform-
ation. "To enlighten the brains," to produce correct conceptions by
good definitions, that was his preference, his passion, his talent. His
influence and his writings overflowed land and people, under the pretext
that they aimed at a popular rationalism, and that they taught an en-
lightened religion, comprehensively expressed, in place of an obsolete
theology. Quails rex, tails grex^ at least in that school of teachers which
had its origin in that mar. DNtinjrui.-hed by a gentlemanly appearance,
by pliant smoothness and caution of expression, it seems that this school
was wanting in power, animation, concentration, and particularly in a
truly Christian spirit. To teach generally useful knowledge in the
abstract, a historical comprehension is necessary, which it did not pos-
sess. Its object was to grow more clever and smarter than those people
who lived before us in utter darkness, from which to have escaped
people should be thankful. This is not the proper place to show the
connection of the "friends of light" with the head-quarters of ' /» rrenner,
but so iniu-h is certain, that both moved on the same circumference>
although it can not be said that the doctrines of the friends of light orig-
inated with Zerrenner.

'/. Whilst the old Saxon districts of Prussia were influenced by Zer-
renner, the new Saxon districts were under the influence of Dinter,
because many teachers had been his pupils, and most of them were
readers and admirers of his writings. The Prussian government trans-
ferred Harnisch as soon as possible, (1822,) from Breslau to Weissenfels,
in the southeastern portion of the province of Saxony, as director of the
normal school. The writer of these lines was sent (1840) to Erfurt, in
the southwestern portion of the province, where Molkr had labored so-
long as teacher at the normal school, and as counselor of the consistory,
with as much circumspection as success. This was done to protect the
increasing number of young teachers in Thuringia against the widely
spread rationalism which had already taken possession of the souls or

* See Barnard's " Pestalozzi and Pestalozzianism."

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA. 157

was bi-ing nourished from \Veimar and Gotha, (by Roehr and Bret-
schneider.) Whilst in the South of the province the Prussian teachers
opened their hearts to a Christian life in and with the people, and spread
their influence with more or less evident success, as particularly in Miihl-
hausen by the beneficent cooperation of the brave teachers Otto and
Fehre: the North of the province had to wait patiently for a long time,
till the Magdeburg normal school could be removed to Barby, till the
extinction or dissolution of private normal schools, which had existed so
long in Eilenburg and Grosstreben under Zerrenner's patronage, could
be effected, till the normal school at Eisleben could be reorganized, and a
new normal school could be established in Elsterwerda. It is more than
probable that the schools, particularly in the Northern and central por-
tions of the province, had their silent foster-fathers and tenacious repre-
sentatives in opposition to those, who had been influenced by the new
normal school in Weissenfels since 1822, and in Erfurt, both previous to
1829 and subsequently in 1840.

e, Harnish did not escape the contests which Beckendorf had expected
to be in store for him, when he went to Saxony. Though he alludes to
them in his "Description of the Weissenfels normal school, Berlin, 1838,"
it is to be regretted that he has not been able to continue his biography,
because the plain manner in which he wrote would have represented his
position in all its importance during these conflicts. Short allusions can
be found at the conclusion of Harnish's work, " The morning of my life"
p. 449! "When Erfurt had become a Prussian town again, a normal
school was soon established there, originally by the private exertions of
several brave men who had the improvement of schools at heart, such as
counselor K. Hahn, dean Moller, Cantor Fischer, K. Reinthaler, candidate
for ordination, &c. ; it became (1829) a State institution by the influence
of Zerrenner, who succeeded in procuring for parson Sickel, his disciple,
the place of the former director, Moller.* He was succeeded by Philo, in
-October, 1840, who labored to revive in that establishment a spirit more
in harmony with the Gospel than that which had hitherto governed it.

Stralsund and Pomerania.

2. The governmental district of Stralsund, which includes the duchy
of Vor Pommern or Swedish Pomerania, (to distinguish it from the
duchy of Vor Pommern belonging to the district of Stettin,) and the prin-
cipality of Riigen, hence the country North of the Peene river, contains
fourteen towns, and was annexed in 1815.t There reigned, till 1637, the

* Dieslerweg's Pedagogic Germany, Vol. I., p. 286.

t The contributor of these communications has labored these eight yean as a teacher in different
places in Vor Pommern ; he therefore writes partly from his own observation and personal expe-
rience. Moreover there have been consulted : Mohnike and Zober, Stralsund Cfironicl., 2 vols.
Stralsund, 1833 ; John Jacob Grumbke, JVew and minute geographical, statistical, and historical
Notes on the island of Riigen, 2 vols., 1819 ; Biederstedt's Collection of all ecclesiastic, 6rc. reso-
lutions in the duchy of Vor Pommern and Riigen, 2 vols., Stralsund, 1817 ; Ohm's Chronicl. of
the town of Barth ; Count Krassow, Contributions to the history of JVeio Vor Pommern and
Rugen, fifty years ago ; and at the present time, Greifswalde, 1865, Some official documents and
manuscripts.

158 PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN 1'Kl SMA

dukes of Ponnnern-Wolgast, and after the death of the hist descendant
of this line (Bogislav XIV.,) under which the duchies of Wolga>t and
Stettin had been united, they fell, together with the country South of the
Scene river, (Old Vor Pommern,) the mouths of the Oder, and Stettin, to
the Swedish crown, to which they belonged for two centuries. That is a
long period, and the inhabitants of Vor Pommern and Riigen have been
quite comfortable under the mild government of the kings of Sweden ; in
their almost patriarchal condition, they had but rarely to complain of
claims on their willingness to sacrifice something to the general welfare of
the State. But as for intellectual culture, and particularly as for the educa-
tion of the lower classes, almost nothing was done ; at least the attempts
of government to improve the schools produced no effect worth mentioning.

The first schools for the people appear to have been established soon
after the Reformation.* They were mostly kept by sacristans in villages
that had churches. At the same time, a higher class of schools, called
Rector-schools, were established in towns, to supply the want of the
citizens.

a. Totcn-whool*. — Johannes JEpinus published in Stralsund as early as
1525,t particular regulations for Church and School, according to which
two jree-scftool* for the young of both sexes were to be established. The
principal object in view was instruction in God's Word. A superin-
tendent was to be at their head, a Latin teacher and two other school-
masters were to be employed. The whole regulation- consists of five sec-
tions, of which the second, third and fifth run thus: "God having
commanded all parents that the children should receive instruction in
His laws, two schools are needed, one for boys and one for girls." "Be-
cause we profess to be Christians, we should be careful that such schools
should be established according to Christian law, that the youths may
not only receive information in the word of God, but that they should
be fortified to act according to it" The main work the schools are ex-
pected to do is, to instruct the children in doing right, and to teach them
how to live in compliance to God's word."

A second organization of Church and School for Stralsund was pub-
lished in 1535 by Dr. John Bugenhagen. It does not essentially differ
from the one issued ten years before. Thus it says: "We also direct
that two schools shall be established, for the poor and for the rich living
here who reside within the limits of the town ; in the one shall Latin and
German be taught, in the other shall girls be educated." The boys*

• At the meeting in Treptow, (December 13th, 1534.) of the dukes Philip I and Barnim IX, it
was resolved, " that the preaching of the Gospel should be allowed without hindrance, that
churches and schools should be established, and that the estates of the Roman Catholic Church
should be confiscated."

t About the author of this regulation for Church and School, Mohnike says: "There lived at
that time in Stralsund. as director of the school at St. John's Churchyard, a man called John
^Epinus, whose real name was Hoeck or Hoch ; he played later, in 1528 and 1529, an important
pert in the history of the church of Hamburg. This man, though not mentioned as a clergyman
in Stralsund, must have enjoyed great authority in consequence of his learning and practical
ability, for it was he, and not Ketelhodt, who was applied to, to draft this regulation."

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA. 159

school was to have one rector and five assistants. The school consisted,,
as magistcr Philippus Melancthon has directed in his book for the visita-
tions in Saxony, of three classes, yet the rector was authorized to form a
fourth class. This institution has not been an elementary school, nor a
high-school either, but a rector-school, what we would now call a common*
town-school. The educational establishments in the other towns were
of a similar character, but little is known about them, before the province
was annexed by Prussia.

The town and provincial school * at Bergen was established after the
Reformation, and had only one class for boys. The girls received instruc-
tion in the school of the sacristan, which may have been in existence
before the Reformation. John Empel was the first rector in 1562. The
reports are not very cheering ; those of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries contain almost nothing but complaints about the individual and
public distress, the wretched condition of the schools, and the unpro-
ductive exertions of the city authorities to relieve them. The country
suffered much during the Thirty Years' War. The school derived no
assistance from the Swedish government, when it had taken possession,
of Pomerania. The inhabitants of Bergen took the oath of allegiance to
Adolphus Frederic in 1754, and thought this a good opportunity to give
some hints at the necessity that the very dilapidated school-house should
be repaired. They therefore made a transparency with this motto : " If
the hand of the Almighty had not protected me, I should long since have
been a heap of rubbish." And another, showing the temple of Minerva,
had this motto : " As Adolphus Frederic will rebuild the temple, this
school-house will also be repaired by him." Yet, 0 fallacem hwninum
spem et inanes nostras contentiones ! There were no repairs made.

The school in Barth is mentioned in a document as early as 1325, in
which Wratislaf, duke of Pomerania and prince of the Riigians, says :
44 1 also authorize my privy council to appoint a schoolmaster and a
sacristan whenever there is a vacancy."

The oldest instruction for a school organization in Barth is by duke
Bogislaf XIII, in the year 1584; it contains much detail, and is closely
connected with the organization of the church. But in how sad a con-
dition the schools were, even after a lapse of two centuries, may be seen
from the following lawsuit in 1743. Rector Zunghen requested that the
school fees should be increased, because the price of wood was so very
high ; the council did not approve of this request. The rector therefore
had no longer any fire made in the school-room, and had even the benches
removed. The council made complaints to the consistory, but received
no answer. The council renewed the complaint, stating that there had
not been any school for three weeks ; then the rector was ordered (1743).
to have the school-room properly heated, on the penalty of a fine of thirty
thalers. But Junghen did not obey ; on the contrary, he protested

*The denomination provincial school is a mere title, because the inhabitants of the province,
i. e. of the country about Bergen, contributed nothing to the salary of teachers, fitc., nor did they
generally send their children to that school.

160

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN PRUSSIA.

against the sentence and continued the lawsuit. All the while there was
no instruction given to the children, because there was but one school-
room. The rector gives a description of this room, and tries to prove by
figures that the quantity of wood furnished to him was altogether insuffi-
cient. The room was twenty-eight feet long, twenty feet wide, and ten
feet high ; the walls were of brick and loam, yet the seams, not being
filled up with mortar, were mostly quite open. The clergyman of Bod-
stedt gave it officially as his opinion, that the room required ten cords of
the best beach and oak wood, to be properly heated from 7 A. M. to 4
P. M. during the winter season. The school had two classes in 1774,
and in 1789 most likely three, for there is mentioned a subrector, besides
a rector, a writing-master, a teacher of arithmetic, and a sacristan.

There were similar schools in Grimmen, Loitz, Tribsees, Lassan, and
Darngarten, some under a rector, others under a deacon ; there was in
Wolgast, Barth and Bergen, (with some interruptions) a subrector, besides
the rector. The undersigned has not obtained any special reports on
Wolgast, but, to judge from some old statistics, schools must have been
in a flourishing condition, most likely because the dukes resided there
for a long time. In Franzburg, Richlenberg, and Garz, were schools
kept by the sacristans. So had the market-town Gingst a so-called
German school, in which the deacon (just licensed to preach) had to give
two lessons every day. The town of Sagard on Yasmund (a peninsula of
Riigen,) established a school in 1792, liberally assisted by the Swedish
Count Brahe; it had but one teacher, who was at the same time parish
clerk and organist.

A more detailed description of the development of the town-schools is
not an object of this article, but it may be mentioned that in 1815, the
two towns which had gymnasiums, viz., Stralsund and Greifswalde, sup-
ported, besides the sacristans' schools, each a citizens' (industrial) school
and a school for orphans.

PESTALOZZFS EDUCATIONAL LABORS FOR THE POOR,

AND FOR

POPULAR SCHOOLS.

" IT is to the charitable efforts of Pestalozzi" — remarks M. Demetz,
the founder of the most complete and successful institution of reformatory
education in the world, in a report on the Agricultural Reformatory Colo-
nies of France, — " that we owe the establishment of agricultural colonies,"
that is, of institutions, organized on the basis, and in the spirit of the
family, with agricultural employment as the principal means of industrial
training, and with methods of instruction, moral, intellectual, and physi-
cal, so fur as applied, good enough for children of any class of society,
and yet capable of being followed by an intelligent mother in the home
of the poor. Not that Pestalozzi's own plans and methods under his
own application, were eminently successful — for they were not. His in-
stitution at Neuhof, was a disastrous failure, in its immediate results, both
as a school, and as a pecuniary speculation. But the Christian spirit in
which this excellent man labored — the family organization into which he
gathered, even the outcasts of society, living among such pupils as a father,
as well as pastor and teacher, and denying himself the quiet seclusion
and comforts of the home which the fortune of his noble minded wife had
secured for him, that he might inspire the orphan, and the abandoned and
•even criminal child with filial attachments, cultivate habits of self-reliance
and profitable industry, and thus enable them " to live in the world like
men" — this spirit, system and aim, the dream and labor of his long and
troubled life, imperfectly inaugurated at Neuhof, and never fully realized
at Stanz, Burgdorf, and Yverden, but widely diffused by his writings,
and the better success, under more favorable conditions, of his pupils and
disciples in Switzerland and Germany, have led to the establishment of
new educational institutions for rich and poor, of schools of practical
agriculture, as well as of agricultural reformatories, and at the same time
has regenerated the methods of popular education generally. To the con-
nected and comprehensive survey of Pestalozzi's Life and Educational
System by von Raumer, we add a notice of his labors at Neuhof by Dr.
Blochmann, of Dresden, and by Dr. Diesterweg, of Berlin, from discourses
pronounced on the occasion of the Centennial celebration of Pestalozzi's
birth-day on the 12th of January, 1846.

PESTALOZZI'S POOR SCHOOL AT NEUHOF.

PESTALOZZI having failed in a plantation of madder which he had com-
menced in connection with a mercantile house of Zurich, on an estate of
about one hundred acres of land on which he commenced a house in the

162 PESTAI.OZZI'S POOR SCHOOL AT MTIIuF

Italian villa style, to which he gave the name of Neuhof, projected the
plan of an educational establishment respecting which Dr. Blochmann,*

admiring pupil ami avowed follower thus writes:

It was not in Pestalozzi's nntuic to sink under misfortune, so long as ht
could pursue the attainment of the object of his lift'. IK- had early learned
and deeply fixed in his mind the maxim,

'• Tu ne cede mails, sed contra fortior ito."

lie advanced like a roused lion, with resolute courage, against alf
unfriendly influences. In spite of the severe distress into which the-
unforseen withdrawal of the Zurich house plunged him, he determined to
go on, and to make his landed estate the centre of operations for his
educational and agricultural plans. He resolved even upon more and
higher designs. Henceforward he will live amongst beggar children, and
share his bread in poverty amongst them ; will live like a beggar him self,
that he may learn to teach beggars to live like men.

He also proposed to render his establishment an institution for the
poor. This undertaking attracted attention. It was considered a noble
and benevolent enterprise; and his views and prinripl«-> had .-o much
influence, in spite of the mistrust of his practical ability, that he found
assistance in Zurich, Bern and Basle, and was aM«- without much diffi-
culty to obtain the necessary funds for the institution, by the aid of a
loan, for several years, without interest His friends on all >ides .1
him ; more especially Iselin of Basle, whom he had met and known in
the Helvetic Diet, and who introduced the beloved enterprise to public
notice in his Ephemerides.

The Institution for the Poor at Neuhof was opened in 1775. Poor
children flocked in from all direction-, many of them gathered by
Pestalozzi himself from their misery, and out of tin- >tn-et>. He had
soon fifty children, whom he kept busy in summer with Held labor, and
in winter with spinning and other handicrafts, instructing them .ill the
time, and developing and clearing up their mental facultio, < -|H . ially by
oral recitations and mental arithmetic.! Pestalozzi had early ]nr«i\ed

* HENRY PBSTALOEZI Touches at a Picture of his Life and Labors : from his own testi-
mony, from observation, and communication. By Dr. Karl Justus Blochmaun, Privy School'
( mi ncilor and Professor: Leiptic. 1846.

t The idea of such a school for the poor, in which agricultural and industrial labor were to
oe combined with instruction, accompanied Pestaloxzi. to whose mind it was so new and'
stimulating, all his life ; and even remained like a sunbeam shining from behind the dark sad
clouds of the past, his last lore, his last active desire. What, however, he never completely
accomplished, has been done by Emanuel von Fellenberg, who was assisted in the work, not
only by his certain and practical skill and experience, but especially by his good fortune in dis-
covering in Vehrli, such a man a-s is very seldom to be found, but absolutely necessary in the
actual realization of such a school Whoever, like myself — and there are thousands— has be-
lome thoroughly acqua'nted with Vehrli's school in Hofwyl, must he convinced that in institu-
tions for the education of the poor so organized, conducted in such a spirit, with such love
and self-sacrifice, there is to be found an inestimable blessing for the slate and the people. Pel-
.enberg has shown from his account books, that ;i poor hoy. received at his ninth year, and re-
maining in the institution through his eighteenth, pays by h s labor during the last half of bin
stay, for the excess of the expense of maintaining him over his earnings, during the first half.
Lange, in his work on '• The Country Edurational Institutions for Poor Children." (f.andflclu,
Erxiehungt An $t alien fvr Arinrnleindrr.'j has made very thorough researches into tli *.

PESTALOZZPS POOR SCHOOL AT N Ell HOP. 10$

that in the nature of every man are innate powers and means sufficient
to assure him an adequate support ; and that the hindrances arising from
exterior circumstances, to the development of the natural endowments,
are not in their nature insuperable.

The usual means of benevolence and mercy (as he was accustomed to
name the orphan houses, institutions for supporting the poor, <fcc., of the
period,) seemed to him to stimulate and encourage the evil, instead
of helping it. The thousand public and private ways of spending alms,
with which the times were crowded to nauseation, the beggar making
and hypocrite training modes of assisting the poor, seemed to him only
a palliative. The only means of affording real assistance he saw to lie in
i} >< ; that the inborn natural powers of every man to provide for his own
necessities, and sufficiently to perform the business, duties and obligations
oi his being, should be developed, encouraged, and set upon an independ-
ent footing. With this conviction the impulse increased within him to
labor for this definite purpose ; thai it should become practicable for the
poorest in the land to be assured of the development of their bodily,
spiritual and moral powers both in relation to their own characters, and
to their personal, domestic and social relations ; and through this devel-
opment to obtain the sure basis of a peaceful and sufficient means,
of existence. lie had already taken the first step in this direction, by
admitting into his house beggar children and others abandoned to neglect,
that he might rescue them from their debasing condition, lead them Kirk
to manhood and a hiirlnT destiny, and thus prove to himself and those,
around him more and more clearly the truth of his opinion. His institu-
tion was to comprise the means for a sutlici.-nt in>trurtion in Held labor,
in domestic work, and in associated indu-trv. This was not, !.
the ultimate purpose. That was, a training to manhood ; and for it,
these other department! were onlv pr-'paratorv.

First of all, he proposed to train hi> pour ••hildreii to exertion and -elt-
control, by forbearing ami assiduous discipline, and b\- the ever powerful
stimulus of love. He aimed to possess himself of their hearts, and from
that starting point to brinjr them to the consciousness and the attainment
of every thing noble and great in humanity. u I had from my youth " he

8, "a high instinctive value of the influence of domestic training
in the education of poor children, and likewise a decided preference
for field labor, as the most comprehensive and unobjectionable external
basis for this training, and also for another reason : as it is the condition
of the manufacturing population which is increasing so rapidly amongst
us, who, abandoned to the operations of a mercantile and speculating

subject, not only from other writings upon institutions for the poor after the model of Fellen-
berg's, but from his own repeated and extensive travels and personal observation. Our own
teacher's association (ptidagogiiche rerein. at Dresden,) has proposed as a chief aim of its
practical efforts, the realization of an institution for the education of poor and abandoned
children, after Pestalozzi's model ; for which purpose, it purchased some eight years since, a
property in great part already in cultivation, and with a roomy mansion house, near the
Liibfaner Schlage, which was deilicarul on MIH l'2th of January. 1845, by the name of UK.
Ptslalozzi Foundation, (PtMulozzi Stiftunc.)

164 PESTALOZZ1S POOR SCHOOL AT NEUIIOF.

interest, wholly destitute of humanity, are in danger, in case of unforseen
accident, of being able totiml within themselyea no means of ex-ape from
entire ruin.* Full of a love for my father-land, which hoped for it almost
impossible things, and longed to lead it back to its native dignity and
power, I sought with the greatest activity not only for the possible but for
the certain means of averting the coming evil, and of awakening anew the
remainder of the ancient home happiness, home industry, and home
manners. These designs sank deep into my heart and often made
me feel with sorrow what a high and indispensable human duty it is
to labor for the poor and miserable, with all the means which our
race possesses, in church, state or individuals, that he may attain to a
consciousness of his own dignity through his feeling of the universal pow-
ers and endowments which he possesses, awakened within him ; that he
may not only learn to gabble over by rote the religious maxim that * man is
created in the image of God, and is bound to live and die as the child of
God,' but may himself experience its truth by virtue of the divine
power within him, so that IK- may be invsi.-tibly and really elevated not
only above the ploughing oxen, but above the man in purple and silk,
who lives unworthily of his high destiny."

With such lofty and magnificent views, and with a heart at even
a higher level of love, Pestalozzi labored at Neuhof from sunrise to sunset,
amongst his beggar children. He lived steadily up to his principles,
laboring in his vocation to the full extent of his powers ; always knew
what he was seeking, cared not for the morrow, but felt from moment to
moment the needs of the present Among his children were very many
ungovernable ones of a better class, and still worse, many who had
brought themselves from a better condition to beggary, and who were
pivMimptuous and pretentious by reason of their former situation ; to
whom the energetic discipline which he applied, according to his design,
was at first hateful. They considered their situation with him as more
degrading than that in which they had been before. Neuhof was full
every Sunday of the mothers and relatives of children who found
their situation not what they had expected. All the impertinences
which a miserable rabble of beggars could indulge in a house without
visible protection or imposing exterior, were practiced, to encourage the
children in their discontent ; even so far that they were often tempted to
run away by night just after they had been washed clean and clad
in their Sunday clothes. However, these difficulties would little by little

* Upon the influence of manufacturing wealth amongst the Swiss at that time. Pestalozzi
expresses himself thus in another place : " The paternal love of the upper and the filial love
of the lower classes, in consequence of the increase of the manufacturing interest, is going
more and more to ruin under the effects of ignoble wealth. The blinding height of arro-
gance derived from an eminent position obtained by money, the deceitful cornucopia of an
unreliable life of mere pleasure, has drawn all within its destructive influence, even down to
the commonest of the people, and carried them into the crooked path of a spiritless and pow-
erless routine life. Truth, honor, sympathy, moderation, are daily vanishing. Pride,
insolence, recklessness, contemptuousness, laxity, immorality, the eager pursuit of vain and
ostentatious pleasure, the cherishing of boundless •selfishness, have taken the place of the
ancient simplicity, faith and honor.

l'i:sr.\l.u//l s I'OOR SCHOOL AT NEUHOF. 165

nave- been overcome, had not Pestalozzi pushed his undertaking to
an extent altogether beyond his means, and undertaken to modify it
according to the original design, which supposed the possession of
the utmost knowledge of manufacturing and of human nature ; qualities
in which he was lacking in the same measure, in which he needed them
urgently for managing his institution. Moreover, he hurried on to
the higher branches of instruction, before supplying the solid foundation
of acquaintance with the lower; an error recognized as the leading
one of the teaching of the age, against which he had striven in his
scheme of education with all his strength. For the sake of a fallacious
prospect of greater profit, in higher branches of industry, he committed,
in teaching his children to spin and weave, the very faults which he had
so strongly abjured in all his expressed opinions upon education, and
which he saw to be so dangerous to children of all classes. He would
attempt to secure the finest spinning, before his children had acquired
even a small amount of firmness and surety of hand in coarse work ; and
undertook to manufacture muslin before his weavers had attained skill in
weaving common cotton stuff.

Through these and the like mistakes, through his ignorance of
business, and his great lack of a sound practical faculty of learning it, it
happened that Pestalozzi fell every year deeper in debts ; and when these
also from time to time had been paid by the self-sacrificing generosity of
his noble wife, there came at last an end of this means of help, and in a
few years the greater part of his substance and his expected inheritance
was dissolved into smoke. The great confidence which he had enjoyed
among his neighbors, changed when his undertaking failed so soon, into
an utter and blind rejection of any shadow even of faith in his enterprise,
or of belief in his possessing any capacity at all as a teacher. But such
is the way of the world ; it treated Pestalozzi, when poor, as it treats all
who become poor by their own faults. Their money being gone, it with-
draws also its confidence from them, in matters where they really are
capable and efficient.

His enterprise failed, in a manner excessively painful, both to himself
and his wife, in the year 1780, in the fifth year of its existence. His
misfortune was complete; he was 'now poor. He felt most deeply the
condition of his noble hearted wife, who in the excess of her devotion had
mortgaged away for him nearly all her possessions. His situation was
indeed shocking. In his over handsome country house, he was often
destitute of bread, wood, and a few pennies, wherewith to defend himself
from cold and hunger. Only the entire forbearance of his creditors and
the kind help of his friends preserved him from despair and entire ruin.

Thus he lived a poor and destitute life in Neuhof for eighteen years,
fighting with want and misery. He lived as a poor man amongst the
poor ; suffered what the common people suffered, and saw what they
were. He studied the wants of the lower classes and the sources of their
misery, in a manner which would have been impossible for one in better
circumstances

THE 8CHOOLHOU8E AT BIRB, WITH PESTALOZZl'S MEMORIAL

PUBLICATIONS BY AND RELATING TO PESTALOZZL
I. WORKS BY PESTALOZZI.*

PESTALOZZI'S WORKS, (Werke,) Tubingen, 1819-26. Gotta, lo vola
These include : —

a. Leonard and Gertrude, (Lienhard und Gertrud,) vols. 1 — 4.

b. How Gertrude teaches Tier children, ( Wie Gertrud ihr Kinder lehrt,) vol. 5.
C. To the innocence, earnestness, and nobility of my fatherland, (An die

Unschuld, den Ernst und den Edelmuth meines Vaterlandes,) vol. 6.

d. My researches upon the course of nature in the development of the human

race, (Meine Nachforschungen uber den Gang der Natur in der Entwick-
lung des Menschengeschlechts,) vol. 7.

e. On legislation and child-murder, (Ueber Gesetzgebung und Kindermord,)

vols. 7 and 8.

t On the idea of elementary education. An address delivered at Lenzburg,
1809, (Ueber die Idee der ElementarbUdung. Eine Rede, gehalten in
Lenzburg.) vol. 8.

(" In jrreat part the work of Niederer."— Biber. It first appeared in the
Weekly for Human Development," [ Wochtn*chriftf*r Menschenbil-

g. Pestalozzi's ktter to a friend upon his residence at Stanz, (Pestalozzi's Brief
an einen Freund uber seinen Aufenthalt in Stanz,) vol. 9.
(This first appeared in the " Weekly.")
h. Views on industry, education, and politics, (Ansichten uber Industrie, Erzie-

hung und Politik,) vol. 9.
i. Address to my household, delivered Jan. 12, 1818, (Rede an mein Haus.

gehalten den 12 Jdnner, 1818,) vol. 9.

k. Figures to my A B C-Book, (Figuren zu meinem A B C-Buch,) vol. 10.
I. Views and experiences relative to the idea of elementary education, (Ansichten
und Erfahrungen, die Idee der Elementarbildung betreffend,) vol. 11.
(This had before appeared under the name of " II. Pestalowi'a views.
• xperiences, and means to secure a mode of education adapted to hu-
man nature." Leipzig, 1807.)

m. On the principles and plan of a periodical, announced in the year 1807,
(Ueber die Grundsatze und den Plan einer im Jahre 1807 angekiindigten
Zeitschrift,)\ol 11.

n. Report to parents and the public on the condition and organization of
Pestalozzi's institution in the year 1807, (Bericht an dl>- i'llf.-m >//,<! ,<n
das Publicum uber den Zustand und die Einrichtungen der Pestalozzischen
Anstalt im Jahre 1807,) vol. 11.

(This had already appeared in the " Weekly for Human Development,"
. but in the collective edition it was materially enlarged.)
o. A word on the condition of my pedagogical enterprises, and on the organ-
ization of my institution during the year 1820, (Ein Wort uber den
Zustand meiner padagogischen Bestrebungen und uber die Organisation
meiner AnstaU im Jahr 1820,) vol. 11.
p. A few discourses in my house in the years 1808, 1809, 1810, 1811, and

1812, (Einige Reden an mein Haus in den Jahren 1808, &c.,.) vol. 11.
q. Christoph and Else, vol. 12.
r. Swan-song, (Pestalozzfs Schwanengesang,) vol. 13.
8. Theory of Number and Form, (Zahl und Forml'hre,) vol. 14.

* This list is taken from Raumer's " History of Pedagogy," vol. ii. p. 489.

168 PESTALOZZI.— LITERATURE.

I Theory of Form, and Dimension, (Form und Grossenlehre,) vol. 15.
u. Address at Langenthal, Apr., 16, 1826, (Rede, den ZQsten April 1826, tn
Langenthal gehalten,) vol. 15.

Some important objections have been made to this edition ; primarily,

that it is '

2. WORKS OF PESTALOZZI not included in the collected edition of 1819-26.

a. Agis, or Spartan legislation, (Agist uber die Spartanische Gesetzgcbung.)

(Pestalozzi's first work.)

b. Evening hour of a Hermit, (Die Abendstunde eines Einsiedlers.)

(This first appeared in l-elm's " /.jJttmeride*" for 17^>. ,,,,,.1 Wua re-
printed in the- kk Weekly for Human Development," in 1807.)

c. A Swiss Gazette, (Ein Schweizer-Blatt,) in two volumes, 1782 and 1783.

(Not being acquainted with this, 1 do not know whether I'estaloz/i was
sole editor or not. About 17'.-^ he published anot /t»p-

ular Gazette" under authori/ation from p>\ eminent. >

d. Pestalozzi's elementary works, (Pestalozzi's Elementarbucher,) especially the

" Book for Mothers,'1 (Buch der Mutter,) Tubingen, 1803. The " Intui-
tional Theory of the Relations of Size," (Anschauungslehre der Mass-
verhdltnisse,) and the "Intuitional Theory of the Relations of Numbers,"
(Anschauungslehre der Zahlenverhdltnisse,) by Kriisi, are quite as im-
portant for Pestalozzi's works as the theories of Number, Form, and
Size, by Schmid, in vols. 14 and 15.

e. Views on Subjects to which the Helvetian Legislature ought specially to

direct its attention, (Ansichten fiber die Gegenstande auf welche die Gesetz-
gebung Helvetians ihr Augenmerk vorzuglich zu richten hat,) Bern, 1802.
£ The Fate of my Ltfe, as Principal of my Educational Institutions at Burg-
dorf and Yverdun, by Pestalozzi, (Meine Lebensschicksale als Vorsteher
meiner Ensiehungs-ins'titute in Burgdorfund Iferten,) Leipzig, 1826.
g. The Instruction of the Sitting-Room, (Die Kinderldire der Wohnstube.)

(Published in " ROM*!** Monthly.")

b. Weekly for Human Development, (Wochenschrifl fur MenschenbOdung,) 4
vols., 1807—1811.

ifis, as was stat* 1 I 'estalozzi's Letter nn his residence

at Stan/, the Report on the Institution at Vverdun, and the Lenzbuig
address.)

L Pestalozzfs Educational Enterprise, as related to the culture of the age,

(Pestalozzi' s Erziehungs- Unternehmung im Verhaltniss zur Zeit-cultur,}

(by Niederer,) 1812.

i In tliis is a letter from Pestalo/ rcr.)

k. Declaration against Canon Bremfs three dozen Newspaper Questions, (Erk-

larung gegen Herrn Chorherr Bremfs drey Dutzend Burklische Zeitungs-

fragen,) Yverdun, 1812.

3. WORKS OF PESTALOZZI — in part not included in the above list, or in a new

arrangement.

1. Paternal Instruction, in moral explanation of words. A legacy from

Father Pestalozzi to his pupils. (Vaterlehren in sittlichen Wort-
deuteungen. Ein Vermddilniss von Voter Pestalozzi au seine Zoylinge.)
Revised and collected by Herman Krusi. Trogeh, 1829.
(The MS. «.f this work \\ d by Pestalozzi to Kriisi, who ed-

ited it with addition and alteration.)

2. Letters on Early Education. Addressed to J. P. Greaves, Esq., with a

memoir of Pestalozzi. London, 1829.

3. Pestahzzts Life and Views, in verbatim extracts from the complete works

of Pestalozzi. (PestalozzCs Leben und Ansichten, in wortgetreuen
Auszuge seiner gesammten Schnftm.) Published with reference to the
festival of his hundredth birthday. By Roget Christoffel. Zurich, 1847.

(An excellent selection, affording probably the best general view acces-
sible of the whole subject, and made on a principle whieh renders it
reliable for reference. We give the Table of Contents.)

\ LOZZ1.— LITERATURE.

169-

CHKISIOKKKL, R., u IVstalo/./.i's, Life and Views," (Leben und Ansichten, in wortyei
reuen Auszuge seiner gesammten Schriften.) Znreih, 1847.

PART I .
PESTALOZZI'S BIOGRAPHY, IN EXTRACTS

FROM His c.u.V WHITINGS.

PAOC.

I. Character as a child 1

•J Hume,. 2

3. Grandfather, 5

4. City M-hool ^ 5

.">. Similar character of an ancestor,.' 6

• I. School years 8

7. Choice of vocation,. V 11

•ihof, 12

mit-< mi author, 16

ID. I'.iMTty nnd friendship 21

11 Kv« mii:.' hour of a hermit 23

LOI 32

13. Schoolmaster at Burgdorf, 48

14. Joins with Kriisi 55

I."). Hurgdorf institution,.

Hi Moves to Muiichen-Buchsee 62

17. Yverdun 63

18. The institution in prosperity, 64

19. New Years, 1808 81

20. " " 1810 90

21. Chmtmas, 1810, 100

22. New Years, 1811 108

23. " " 181-2 117

24. 72d birthday 124

25. At Neuhof.'in his old age 141

APPENDIX TO PART I.

a. To Jacob Frohlich, V. I). M 144

b. To Secretary Iselin 147

PART II.

VIEWS OF NATURE AND MEN.

I. Spring 153

II. Summer 154

III. Fables, 88 in number 159

IV. Tales :-

J . 1'oor Kunigunde, 213

2. The braggart of freedom, 234

3. The cotton-spinner, 238

4. The village shoemaker 239

V. Essays:—

I. Industry and its perils,

•J The farming population .

3. < >n child-murder -J7 \

4. Tithes

5. Wake up, people! (Revolutionary

speech,). 293

6. Something about religion, 299

PART III.

VIEWS ON EDUCATION AND INSTRUCTION.
I. EDUCATION.

1. Sketch of natural education 305

2. System and aim of true education 313

3. From maternal love, the child proeeeds to

love of men and of God, 316

4. Character of father and mother influence

result of education 319

5. Development of child to true manhood,

with relation to It-Mow -men 3-J3

6. Development of child in relation to natun , :(.'."•

7. Result of want of parental character in

earliest instruction, 3-J7

8. Faith in God will supply to parents the

proper feelings iUii

9. Sketch of an institution for education of

the poor 333

II. INSTRUCTION.

1. Elementary means of instruction are num-

ber, form, speech 337

2. First means, sound :t:t'.i

A . Tones 33<j

B. Words or names 342

C. Language 343

Second means, form, 3."» J

PACE

a. Measuring 3a2

b. Drawing 35(i

c. Writing 356

4. Third means, number, 360

a. Arithmetic, 3(11

III. THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

1. How a good school is established, 364

2. Basis of a good school, 365

3. A recruiting officer's doings, 367

4. A proud schoolmaster, 368

5. School organization, 369

6. Same, continued 370

7. God's word is truth 372

8. To be as good as a man can be, it is

neces«ary to apj>ear bad, 373

9. He who dujoins the principles of arith-

metic and the sense ol truth, puts
asunder whnt Go<l has joined, 374

10. A proved antidote to mean and faUe

backbiting 376

11. A fool's words, and school punishment, .377
IV. RESULTS OF REFLECTION AND EXPE-
RIENCE ON ELEMENTARY TRA ININO, 378—446

PART IV.

CONTRIBUTIONS TO A SYSTEM OF PUBLIC
INSTRUCTION, AND.WORD8 TO THE FATH-
ER-LAND.

I. THE MUNICIPAL ORGANIZATION OF BON-
NAL.

1. Amer's ordinances, 449^

2 Arner applies his principles to counteract
the besetting sin of our time— indo-
lence 455

3. Arner's forms of process, &c., 458

4. His laws against theft 462

5. His laws for protection of charity 4(i5

6. Influence of his laws on love of pleasure,

ease, and honor 468

7. Religion, ITn

8. Superstition and irreligion, 472

'J. How A rncr protected his people from su-
perstition, 473

10. A word on the necessity of divine service

for perfecting true popular enlighten-
ment 475

II. Arner's mode of celebrating festivals

both is adapted to the character and
condition of farmers and serves the pur-
poses both of a wise lawgiver and a
pious religious teacher, as well as is
adapted to the personal circumstances
of those who celebrate it, 477

1-J Hitherto have I tended from the begin-
ning; and if you say No, reader, you
mutt go back and say No to much that
goes before 483

13. Arner takes down the gallows, erects a
hospital, and provides for the hang-
man 487

11. MANAGEMENT OF PRISONERS AND THEIR
CHILDREN 488—500

III. APHORISMS ON PUBLIC EDUCATION.
1. Consequences of public punishment. .... .500

•J. How can the legislator prevent crimes ?. .501
:i How can the State do its duty to illegit-
imate children ? 502

4. The lawgiver diminishes vice and crime

by promoting domestic discipline, 505-

5. Special introduction by circumstances to

the condition of servitude, 506-

6. The le<ri!.lator founds upon the inward en-

dowments and tendencies of nature, ...507

TO MY FA THICK LAND,.. ...510

VI

Remark

Chronology ot
Concluding re

ark.

..515
..531
..532

170 I'l.MAlo/./l I.ITKK.Vil UK.

11. WORKS REsi-Lcnxi; PKSIALOZZI AND His EDUCATIONAL

BANDLIX, J. 11., IVstalozzi; his times, his fato, and his labors. A work for
friends of human culture and promoters of a better future. (Pestalozzi, seine
Zeit, seine Schicksale, und sein Wirkcn, &c.) Schatt'hausen : Brodtman. 1843.

BIBER, EDWARD, Contribution to the Biography of Heinrich Pestalozzi,
1827. (Beitrag Zur Biographic II. Pestalozzi.) 1827.

(An important collection of documents for our knowledge of the last fourteen
years of Pestalozzi's life ; but as to opinions relative to Pestalozzi, a non plua
ultra of impiety and injustice.)

BLOCHMANN, K. J., Heinrich Pustalozzi. — Sketches from the pictures of his
life and labors; from his own testimony, from inspection, and information.
(H. Pestalozzi. Zuye aw dem Bilde seines Lebens und Wirkens nach Selbstzeugn issen,
AnscJiauungen und Mitthcilungen.) Leipzig. 1846.

BURKHART. Was Pestalozzi an infidel? ( War Pestalozzi ein Unglaubigert)
Leipzig: Hartknoch. 1841.

-:KR\vK(s. A. H., Pestalozzi.— >• An Address at the festival on his hun-
d.odtli birthday. January rJth, 1846, delivered at Berlin by A Diesterweg.
{h. Pestalozzi. Rede bei der Manner- Feier seines hunderfydhrigen Geburtstages am
12 Januar 1846, zu Berlin geJialten von Adolph Diesterweg.) Berlin. 1846.

SAME. Pestalozzi. — A word on him and his immortal services to children
and their parents, at the first centennial festival of his birth. By A. D. Third
edition. (//. Pestalozzi. Ein Wort uber ihn und seine unsterblichen Verdiente,fur
die Kinder und deren Eltern, zu dem ersten Sacularfeste seiner GtburL Von A. D.
Dritte Auftage.) Berlin. 1845.

DIESTERWEG, Ratisch, and Mnssmann. Festival of the hundredth birthday
of H. Pestalo/./.i. !!• -rim, January 12, 1845. (Die Feier des IQQsten Geburtstages
ffeinricJi Pestalozzi's, in Berlin am 12 Januar 1845.) Berlin. 1845.

Essays for and against Pestalozzi's System of Instruction. 1806. (Aufsatze
fur und gegen die Pestalozzische Unterrichtsmethode.)

KWALD, J. LUDWIO, Lectures on the theory and art of education, for fathers,
mothers, and educators. ( Vorlesungen uber die Erziehungskunst fur Vat-
ler, und Erzietutr.) 3 vola. Manheim. 1808.

GRUNER, ANTON*, Letters from Burgdorf on Pestalozzi, his method and his
institution. Second edition, enlarged. (Briefe aus Burgdorf uber Pestalozzi,
seine Methode und Anstalt. Zweite Aufttige.) Frankfort-on-the-Maino. 1806.

HKNXIXI;. (of Coslin.) Information on Pestalozzi's peculiarities, life, and edu-
cational institutions. (Jfittheilungen uber H. Pestalozzi's Eigenthumlichkeit, Leben,
und Erziehungs-Anstalten.)

(In Harnisch's "School Councilor on the Oder," (Schulrath an der Oder,)
Parti. 1814.)

HERBART. Pestalozzi's idea of the rudiments of instruction. (Pestalozzi's
Idee eines ABC des Anschauungs, von Herbart) Gottingen. 1804.

HEUSSLER. Pestalozzi's results in education, (Pestalozzi's Leistungen im Er-
ziehungsfache.) Basle. 1836.

ITHO, JOHANN, Official Rei>ort on the Pestalozzi Institution. (Amtlicher Be-
riclit uber die Pestalozzische AnstaU.)

KROGER, J. C., Information on Pestalozzi and his methods of education.
{Mitthetiuntjen uber Pestalozzi und seine Erziehungs- Methode.) Hamburg. 1846.

KRUSI. Recollections of my pedagogical life, before, during, and since my
connection with Pestalozzi. (Erinnerungen aus meinen padagogischen Leben
und Wirken, &c.) Stuttgardt: Cast. 1840.

MONNICH, W. B., J. H. Pestalozzi, painted by himself and by others. (J.
H. Pestalozzi, nach ihm selbst und Andern geschildert.)

In the " Cotemporaries," (Zeitgenossen.) Leipzig. 1813.

NIEDERER. Pestalozzi's educational undertakings, in their relation to the cul-
ture of the age. (Pestalozzi's Erztiehungs-Unternehmung im VerhaUnisse zur
Zeitcultur.) 1812.

PESTALOZZI-FOUNDATIOX. The German Pestalozzi-Foumlation. First finao-

STAI n//i. i.nr.KAii 1:1: 171

<•!:,! r.-i.MiT. uy l)ifsti-r\vr^ ainl Kalisdi. (Die Dtutsche Ptstalozzi-Stiftung. Era-
''if(x-l>, /•"•//'. '/--('iff'/ • :t n/i<l Kulisch.) Berlin. 1847.

i'L \M\XN, J. E., Some fundamental ruK-s of tin- art of instruction, after
I'.-stuW./.i's niL-thod, applied to natural history, geography, and language.
i-icUtx-kunxt ii'K-h J'rxtalozzi's Method*, angewandt in
<lcr X'UnKj-xcldchtt, Geographie, und Sprache.) Halle. 1805.

RAMSAUEK. Short sketches of my pedagogical life. (Kurze Skizze meines
l>tt'l>i<ji>iji^htn Lebens.) Oldenburg. 1838.

RAUMER, K. von, History of pedagogy. (Geschichte der Padagogik.) Vol.
2, pp. 287, -Hii.

Remarks against Pestalozzi's system of instruction. By Steinmiiller, pastor.
1803.

W. VON TURK. Letters from Miirichen-Buchsee upon Pestalozzi and his
method of elementary training. (Briefe aus Miinchen-Buchsee ubcr Pestalozzi
und seine Elementar-Bildungsimtiiod.) Leipzig, 1806. 2 vols.

FRENCH WORKS ON PESTALOZZI.

JULMEN, MARC ANTOINE, Spirit of the method followed and practiced by
Pestalozzi in the educational institution at Yverdun. (&prit de la mtthode de
Pestalozzi, suivie et praliqute dans F tnstitut d1 education £ Yverdun.) 2 vols.
.Milan. 1812.

PESTALOZZI. Manuel des meres. Traduit del' Alleraand. Geneva and Paris.
1821.

ENGLISH WORKS RELATIVE TO PESTALOZZI.

UIISKR, E, Henry Pestalozxi. and his plan of education; being an account
of his life and writings; with copious extracts from his works, and extensive
details illustrative of the practical parts of his method. London. 1831.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. I'« si a Ic/./.i's system. Vol. 66, p. 93.

EDINBURGH REVIKW. Pe0talauTs Bjvtem Vol. 47, p. 119.

\\ KS. J. P., Letters and extracts from MS. writings. Ham Common.
•Surrey. 1843.

HINTS TO PARENTS on the cultivation of children, in the spirit of Pestalozzi's
method. London. 1827. (Six parts.)

PESTALOZZI. Letters on early education. Addressed to J. P. Greaves, Esq.
Translated from the German. With a memoir of Pestalozzi. London. 1827.

PESTALOZZI. Leonard and Gertrude. Translated from the German. 2 vols.,
12 mo. London. 1825.

AMERICAN WORKS ON PESTALOZZI.

ACADEMICIAN. This educational monthly, edited by A. and J. W. Pickett,
"N. Y., 1818-19, contains a brief article on Pcstulozzi'a system, p. 214, No. 14;
and a series of seven articles on the same subject, in Nos. 16-23; the first on
p. 245,

ALCOTT, A. B., Pestalozzi's principles and methods of instruction. (Article
in American Journal of Education, Vol IV., No. 2, March and April, 1829, p. 97.)

ALCOTT, A. B., Review of " Maternal Instruction, Ac. In the spirit of Pes-
talozzi." "American Journal of Education" Vol. IV., No. 1, January and Feb-
ruary, 1829, p. 53.

DIAL. Memoir of J. P. Greaves. October 1842, and January 1843.

LIVING AGE. Pestalozzi's system. Vol. XXII., p. 461.

MATERNAL INSTRUCTION, OR HINTS TO PARENTS. In the spirit of Pestal-
•ozzi's method. Salem, Mass. 1825.

MUSEUM. Memoir. Vol. XIII., p. 278, and Vol. XIX., p. 493.

RIPLEY, GEORGE, Memoir of Pestalozzi, in " Christian Examiner." Vol. XI ,
•p. 347.

UNITED STATES LITERARY GAZETTE. Pestalozzi's system. Vol. I., pp. 344,

PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE.

III. PUBLICATIONS ON PESTALOZZI AND PESTALOZZIANISM.*

ABS, Jos. TIIEOD. Darstellung meiner Aimi-mlting der Pestalozzi'schen-
BiUlnngsmethode. Halberstudt, 1811.

Pestalozzi's Anstrrnmingen fiir Menschenbildung gesdiichtlirh dar

Ct-stfllt. Halberstadt, 1815.

ACADEMICIAN of 1818-19. Pcstalozzi — a Series of Articles by a " Citizen
of Clinton County," N. Y. A portion Republished in Russell's American.
Journal «>f Kducation for 1829.

Ac KE KM AN.V, \V. H. Erinncrungen aus meinem Leben bei Pestalozzi.
Frankfurt a/M., 1846.

ALBBRTI, C. E. R. H. Pestalozzi. In der Sammlung gemeinverstiindlicher
v i>M-ii«-h;ift!k'her Vortrage von R. Virchow und Fr. von llolt/i'tidorff. (Heft
79.) Berlin, 1869.

ALCOTT A. BKOXSON. Pestalozzi, Principles and Methods, 99 p., 1829.

AMERICAN ANNALS OF EDUCATION. Life and System of Pestalozzi, com-
pared with Basedow. Woodbridge, 1837.

AMERICAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION, ed. by H. Barnard. Pestalozzi and
his Svstein. — Papers to the aggregate of 800 pages, in Volumes III., IV , VI.,
VII.; X . XXX. XXXI. Hartford, 1857-1880.

AMOROS. Mi'tnoire, In a la Societe pour 1'instruction elK-mentaire, sur les
avantatres de la nic-thode d'education de Pestalozzi et sur 'experience decisive
faite en Espague en faveur de cette methode. Paris, 1815.

AUCH ANSICHTEN und Erfahrungen uber Institute und Schulen, eine Priifung
des Schmitl'srlien Buches "Erfahrungen und Ansichten." Deutschland, 1811.

AUCH EIN WORT. s. Keller.

AUFFORDERUNGEN und Vorschlage zur Veredlung des Schulund Erziehungs-
wesens. Leipzig, 1800.

AUFSATZE. For and against Pestalozzi's System, s. Homer.

D'AUTEL, A. H. Priifung des Werthes der Pestalozzi 'schen Methode.
Stut r.trart, 1810.

BABLER, J. J. Ein bescheidenes Bliimchen auf das Grab Pestalozzi's..
Glarus, 1846.

BAR. s. Pestalozzi.

BAOOE, E. \V. G. Pestalozzi. Frankfurt a/M., 1847.

BANDLIN, DR. J. B. Pestalozzi. Schaffhausen, 1843.

Der Genius von Vater Pestalozzi. Zurich, 1846.

BARNARD, HENRY. Pestalozzi, Franklin and Oberlin, true Popular Educa-
tors: 24 p. Hartford, 1839. Edition of 1880, 80 p.

Pestalozzi's Educational Labors for the Poor, and the Popular Schools,

in Barnard's Reformatory and Preventive Institutions, 16 p. Hartford, 1847.

Pestalozzi and his Method of Instruction, 48 p. Hartford, 1849.

Life and Educational Views, from Rammer, 126 p. Hartford, 1857.

Pestalozzi and his Assistants and Disciples, 224 p. Hartford, 1858.

Pestalozzi and Pestalozzianism, 474 p. 1862.

Third Edition, with Fellenberg and Wehrli, p. 528. 1870.

Leonard and Gertrude, translated from Ed. of 1781, 152 p.

Second Edition, with Evening Hour of a Hermit; New Year

and Christmas Addresses to his Family, 221 p. Hartford, 1860.

Pestalozzi, Fellenberg and Wehrli, in relation to the Industrial

Element in Education, 16 p. Hartford, 1861.

Pestalozzi and Froebel in Child Culture, 32 p. 1881.

Pestalozzi's One Hundredth Birth- Day, and the Literature of Pesta-
lozzianism. Second Edition, 32 p. 1881.

Pestalozzi and other Swiss Educators (Zwingle, Calvin, Rousseau, Girard,

Frllenberg, Wehrli, Kuratli, Agassiz, etc.). Memoirs and Educational Views,
740 p. Hartford, 1883.

* Revised to 1883. Mainly from " Catalogue of tt'orka on Pcstalozzi '' by A. Schumann, of
Zoflrxf , printed in Schweizerische Zeitschrift jur Gememnuelzigkrit. Zurich, 1879.

rii iTALOZZIAN LITEUATURE. 178

(iJ.vi-KK). Pest:ilu//i (U-r Krvolutionar. Von eincm Zoglinge desselben.
( harlutti-iilmri;. 1^46.

BELEUCHTUNG der Pestalozzi 'schen Grosssprechereien. Erfurt, 1804.

BKMKHK.UNGEN iiber Krziehmigs Unterrieht. Gewidmet deu Gonnern und
IV'fordiTi'ni der hirsigon Anstalt nach Pestalozzi'schen Grundsatzen. Bei
ijlelegenheit der zweiten Priifung. Basel, 1811.

BERICHT iiber die Pestalozzi'sche Erziehunpsanstalt zu Yverdon an S. Excel-
lenz den Herrn Landammann und die h. Ta«rs;itzung der Schweiz. Eidgenossrn-
vschaft. Gudruckt auf Befehl der Tagsatzung. Bern, 1810 (von G'irard,
Tnclt*tl, Merian).

BIBER, E. Beitrng zur Biographie H. Pestalozzi's. St. Gallen, 1827

Henry Pestalozzi, and his plan of education. London, 1831.

BIOGRAPHIE de Henri Pestalozzi, s. Chavannes.

BITZIUS, s. Gotthelf.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. Pestalozziana. Reminiscences of an English
Student (before 1818). Vol. 66, 1849.

BLATTER, rheinische, fur Erziehnng und Unterrieht. Herausgegeben von A.
Diestcrweg. Essen. Jahrgange, 1845— 47. Band, 31 — 36.

vorlaufige, von den Verhandlungen der schweizerischen Gesellschaft

fur Erziehung. 1808.

BLOCHMANN, K. J. Heinrich Pestalozzi. Leipzig, 1846.

Pestalozzi; Poor School at Neuhof, in Barnard's Reform'y Ed. 1857.

BONAPARTE, Talleyrand, et Stapfer, 1800—1803. Zurich, 1869.

BORDIKK. ancien pasteur, Pestalozzi. Neuchatcl, 1873.

BORN HA USER, TH. Pestalozzi's Andenken. Gedicht, an der Feier des
Vaters Pesta!o/./i bei seinem hundertsten Geburtstage den 12. Jan., 1846, ge-
sungen von der thurg. Lehrerschaft in Weinfelden.

BREBII, J. H. Ueber die Schrift: Pestalozzi's Erziehungsunternehmung u.
s. w. Ziirich, 1812.

BRIEFE. s. Pestalozzi.

BROUGHAM, HENRY. Evidence before Education Committee. 1818.

BiicHi, J. J. Ein Wort iiber Pest'zi's Leben und Wirken. Winterthur, 1846.

BUEL, J. Was soil in den Landschulen der Schweiz gelehrt und nicht
gelehrt werden? Winterthur, 1801.

BDRGWARDT, HBINRICH. Heinr. Pestalozzi. Altona, 1846.

BURKHART, K. F. E. War Heinrich Pestalozzi ein Unglaubiger ? Leipzig, '41

Pestalozzi und seine Leistungen nach deren Einfluss auf eine religise.

Volkserziehung. Leipzig, 1846.

BUSINGER. Die Geschichten des Volks von Unterwalden ob und nid dem
Wald. 2 Bande. Luzern, 1878.

CHAVANNES, D. AL. Expose de la m£thode elementaire de Pestalozzi, suivi
d'une notice sur cet homme celebre. Paris, 1805. Vevey, 1806. Nouv. ed.
Paris et Geneve, 1809.

(CHAVANNBS, MLLB.) Biographic de H. Pestalozzi. Lausanne, 1853.

CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. Boston. Articles by J. Walker, vi. p. 287 ; G
Ripley, xi. 347 ; W. P. Atkinson, Ixviii. 63.

CHRISTMANN, W. L. Versuch einer Metakritik der Weltverbesserung oder
ein Wort ueber Pestalozzi und Pestalozzismus. Ulm, 1812.

CHRISTOFFEL, R. Pestalozzi's Leben und Ansichten. Zurich, 1846.

COCHIN. Essai sur le vie d'Henri Pestalozzi, p. 96. 1848.

COLLMANN, C. L. Mittheilungen aus dem Leben und den Schriften H. Pes-
talozzi's, zum Gebrauche in Familien und Schulen. Kassel, 1845.

Ein Wort zur Erinnerung an den 100. Geburtstag Pestalozzi's. Kassel, '46.

COMPATRE, G. Pestalozzi and Rousseau. Histoire Critique de 1'Education
in France. Vol. II. Paris. 1876.

CONRAD. M. G. Pestalozzi. Rede zur Einweihung der deutschen Loge "Pesta-
lozzi " zu Neapel. Leipzig, 1873. Vermuthlich wieder abgedruckt in Conrad:
*'Vom Heissbrett. Fieimaurerische Ansprachen und Skizzen." Zurich, 1875.

174 PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE.

CORRODI. An Vater Pestalozzi, zur hundertjiihrigen Gedachtnissfeier.
Winterthur, 1846.

CRAMER. Parallele zwischen Sokrates u. Pestalozzi. In der " Piidag.
Revue" von Dr. Mager. 15. Bd. Zurich, 1847. S. 265— 284.

CURTMANN, W. J. G. Eroffnungsrede des im Jahre 1846 begangenen
Sakularfestes, der Getmrt Pestalozzi's, gesprochen zu Frankfurt a/M., -

drurkt in der "Allgemeinen Schulzeitung " von Ziinmermann 1855, Nr. 5. Das
Wesentliche davon tindet sich bei J. Folsing, Dr. W. J. G. Curtmaun, Sein
Leben und Wirken Leipzig, 1873.

CURTI, G. Pestalozzi. Notizie della sua vita e delta sue opere etc. Seconda
edizione. Bellinzoiia, 1876.

CUVIER, F. Plan d'organisation pour les ecoles primaires. Paris, 1815.

CYCLOPEDIA OF EDUCATION. John Henry Pestalozzi. Steiger, N. Y., 1876.

DALTON, H. Johannes von Muralt. Eine Padagogen- und Pastorengestalt.
Wiesbaden, 1876.

DIAL for October, 1842, and Jan., 1843. Greaves and Pestalozzi. Boston.

DIESTERWKG, Kalisch, Massinann. Die Feier des hundertjiihrigen Geburts-
tags Pestalozzi's in Berlin. Berlin, 1845.

(DIESTERWKG). Ein Wort ueber Pestalozzi und seine unsterblichen Ver-
dienste fuer die Kinder und deren Eltern, etc. 1. — 3. Aufl. Berlin, 1845.

-- \Vas wollte Pestalozzi und was wollen wir ? Rede bei der Mannerfeier.
Berlin, 1846.

-- Fichte und Pestalozzi. In: 1863! Jahrbuch fuer Lehrer und Schul
freunde 13 Jahrgang. Frankfurt a/M., 1862. S. 24—63.

-- Influence of Pestalozzi on Modern Schools. Hartford, 1862.

DIETSCHI, P. Das Sakularfest von Vater Pestalozzi, gefeiert in Oensingen
von den Lehrern und Schulfreundeudes Kantons Solothurn den 12. Januar, 1846.

-- Pestalozzi und sein Wirken. Rede, gehalten an seiner hundertjahrigen
Geburtsfeier den 12. Jan. 1846, zu Oensingen.

DRKIBT, K. A. Gottesverehrungen, gehalten im Betsaale des Pestalozzi'schen
Instituts zu Iferten. Erstea Heft. Nebst einem Anhange ueber Pestalozzi's
Ansichten von der Religion. Zurich, 1812.

DCVAL. Precis de la nouvelle methode de Pestalozzi. Paris, 1804.

EDINBURGH REVIEW. Mayo's Principles of Pestalozzi. Vol. 47, 118. 1828.

EDUCATIONAL EXPOSITOR. Rauraer's Life of Pestalozzi. Translated by J.
Tilleard. London, 1853-4.

EIN ZEUGB DER WAHRHBIT. s. Herder.

ELDITT, H. L. Erinnerungen an H. Pestalozzi. Konigsberg, 1846.

ERORTERUNG der neuern Lagc der Pestalozzi'schen Methode. (Ohne Titel
blatt in dem Sammdband Gal. XXI V, 1135 der SladtbiblUthek Zurich )

EVERS, E. A. Ueber die Schulbildung zur Bestialitat. Programm der
Kantonsschule in Aarau, 1807.

EWALI>, J. L. Geist der Pestalozzi'schen Bildungsmethodc, nach Urkunden
u. eige ier Ansicht. Zehn Vorlesungen. Bremen, 1805.

- Geist und Fortschritte der Pestalozzi'schen Bildungsmethode. Mann-
heim, 1810.

FKLLEXBERG, E. v. Der dreimonatliche Bildnngskurs. Bern, 1833.

FBLLENBKHR. WILLIAM DE. Pestalozzi, Fellenberg, and Wehrli in relation.
to Industrial Education, 16 p. Hartford, 1860.

FESTSCHRIFT zur Einweihung des neuen Schulhauses in Fluntern, 1874.
Zurich, 1874. (S. 45 ff.)

FICIITE, J. G. Reden an die cleutschc Nation. 1808 (" Bibliotluk ilcr dcutschen
Nationalliteratur," Bd. 3 1 . Leipzig, 1871).

FISCHER, E. s. Pestalozzi-Album.

FISCHER. E G. Ueber Pestalozzi's Lehrart. In den Abhandlungen der-
Kgl. Akademic der Wissenschaften und schonen Kunste. Berlin, 1803.

PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE. 175-

FLUNTERN. s. Festschrift.

FROEBEL, F. A. Principles and Method of Pestalozzi. Barnard's Journal
of Education, 20 p. Hartford, 1881.

FROHLICH, EMAN. Zum Andenken des Vaters Pestalozzi, auf die Feier seines
Geburtstags (Gedicht) 1846.

(GAMPER, W.) Pestalozzi's Idee von der Wohnstube. Zurich, 1846.

GILL, JOHN. Pestalozzi and Pestalozzian System. Systems of Education,
p. 64-93. London, 1876.

GIRARD, s. Rapport.

GIRAUD, CH. Rapport sur le c<>ncours relatif an syst&me de Pestalozzi,
(Seances et travaux de I Academic dts sciences morales et politiques. Paris, 1850.

7010 .\ 9-ue //„,..)

Go ii RUNG. Ueber die Einfuhrbarkeit der Pestalozzi'schen Methode io
Volksschulen. Stuttgart, 1810.

GOTTHELF, JEHEM i AS. Ein Wort zur Pestalozzifeier (" Pad. Revue " von Dr.
Mager, Bd. 14. Zurich, 1846. S. 49-65).

GREAVES, J. P. Letters of Pestalozzi. London, 1843.

Memoir and Letters. London, 1827.

GRISCOM, JOHN. Visit to Yverlon in 1818. Year in Europe. Vol. I., 267.

GRUNKR, ANT. Briefe aus Burgdorf ttber Pestalozzi. Hamburg, 1804
Zweite unveriinderte und mit vier neuen Briefen vermehrte Ausgabe. Frank
furt, a/M., 1806.

Noch ein Wort zur Empfehlung der kraftigern, namentlich Pestalozzi'-

schen Weise in der Behandlung und im Unterricht der Jugend. Ein Nachtrag
zu d«-u Briefen aus Burgdorf. Frankfut, a/M., 1806.

GDIMPS, R. DE. Notice sur Pestalozzi. " Journal d'Yverdon," 1843.

Histoire de Pestalozzi. Lausanne, 1874.

HAGEN. Ueber das Wesentliche der von Pestalozzi aufgestellten Menschen-
bildungsweise. Erlangan, 1810.

HAGENBACH. Kirchengeschichte des 18 und 19 Jahrhunderts.

HAILMAN, W. N. Pestalozzi, in History of Pedagogy 1868.

From Pestalozzi to Froebel. Doerflinger, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1880.

HAM AN NT, A. Ueber die Bedeutung der Pestalozzi'schen Elementarbildung
in d. Gesammtausbildung d. Menschen. Potsdam, 1846.

HANSKN, H. A. Rede bei der Sakulargeburtsfeier J. Heinrich Pestalozzi's am
12 Januar, 1846. Altona.

HARNISCH, W. Mein Lebensmorgen. Berlin, 1865.

HARTMANN, C. F. Lebensskizze des edlen Menschen- und Kinderfreundes
Heinrich Pestalozzi. Reutlingen, 1846.

HARWOCK, G. A. J. H. Pestalozzi. Halle, 1869.

HEER, J. Rede bei der Pestalozzifeier in Wadensweil. Zurich, 1846.

— J. J. Das Wesen der Pestalozzi'schen Methode als Grundlage einer
christlichen Erziehung. Ziirich, 1870.

— G. Pestalozzi und seine Aussat. Vortrag in Hatzingen. Glarus, 1878.
HEINE, AD. Pestalozzifeier in Hildburghausen. 1846.

HEMPEL, C. G. Pestalozzi's Menschenlehre aus seinen " Nachforschungen."
Leipzig, 1803.

Pestalozzi's Religionslehre Leipzig, 1804.

HENNING, J. W. M. Leitfaden beim methodischen Unterricht in der Geog-
raphic. Iferten, 1812.

HKNNING, J. W. M. Mittheilungen fiber Pestalozzi's Eigenthumlichkeit,
Leben und Erziehungsanstalten in Harnisch's " Schnlrath an der Oder."
1814 (Lief. 1).

Monatsblatt f. Pommerns Volksschullehrer. 12 Jahrg., 1846.

176 PESTALOZZIAN LITKK ATI KK

HERBART, J. F. R. Pestalozzi's Idee dues ABC der Anschauung. Got-
tingen, 1804.

Ueber den Standpuiikt drr Benxtheflmig <ler Pestalozzi'schen Uuter-

riehtsmethode. Bremen, 1804.

Ueber Pestalozzi's ueueste Schrift " Wie Gertrud " (Irene, 1802),

nenerlirh nu-hrfach edirt.

HERDER, J G. Kezension der Schrift "Meine Nachforschungen " in den
"Erfurtrr -. Iclirten Nachru-htrn," 1797, St. 60. Werke Bund 13. Extra-
Abdruc-k : Kin /ru^e di-r Wahrheit oder Herder ueber Pestalozzi. Zurich.

HERZOG. K. Joh. Heinr. Pestalozzi im " Neuen Nekrolog der Deutschen."
5 Jahrg.. IS27. llmenau, 1829. (S. 187—212.)

HEDBR. A. Schulgeschichte von Burgdorf. 1874.

HEUSSLER. Pestalozzi's Leistungen im Kr/.ii •liunirsfache. Basel, 1838.

HIMLEY, J. F. W. Versuch einer Einleitung in die Grundsiitze des Pesta-
lozzi'schen Elementarunterricbts. Berlin, 1803.

Bevtrag sur nahern Einverstnndigung ueber die Pestalozzi 'sche Methode.

Berlin, 1804.

Piidagogische Mittheilungen. 1 und 2 Stueck. Berlin, 1809.

HOFFMEISTER, H. Comenius und Pestalozzi als Begruender der Volksschule.
Berlin, 1877.

HOFFMAN. Ueber Entwicklung und Bildung der menachlichen Erkenntniss-
kraft zur Verbreitung des Pestalozzi 'sell en Eleraentarunterrichtes. Basel, 1805.

( HORNER, J. ) Aufsiitze fur uud gegen die Pestulozzi'sche Unterrichtsmethode.
Zurich, 1806.

J. J. Ein Blick auf einige neuere Verbesserungsversuche des
Xnricli. 1809.

Ein Wort an Prof. Joh. Schulthess. Zurich, 1810.

Kektoratsmlen. 1813.

K,.,!,. 1,,-i ,ior Gediichtnissfoior II. Pestalozzi's, den 12 Jan. 1846 in d.

Gr.issinuensterkiicln- xn Zurich .irt-halten. Zurich, 1846.

HUGGER uvi> STKIILK. Vrrhiiltnisse der Zahl nach der Idee der Pestalozzi'-
schen Methode. Erster Thcil, wolcherdas Kopfrechnen enthiilt. Gmund, 1815.

— Roman, Theoretisrh i>r;iktische Sprachlehre fur Elementarschulen nach d.
Geiste der Pestalozzi'schen Methode. Ulm, 181C.

HUOOER. Die Elementarschule nach Pestalozzi's Methode. Ulm, 1829.

— C. P. Rede- und Denkuebungen fur Kinder. Nach der Pestalozzi'schen
Methode. Ulm, 1834.

Is HI. IN, F. Pestalozzi als Forderer der Leibesuebungen. Basel, 1858.

ITH, Jon. Amtl. Bericht ueber die Pestnlozzi'sche Anstalt. Bern, 1802.

JoH\N*8EX, FR. Kritik der Pestalozzi'schen Erziehungs- und Unterrichts-
methode. Jena und Leipzig, 1804.

JI-I.LI KX. M. A. Preds sur 1'institut d'Yverdon en Suisse, organise et diri«r&
par M. Pestalozzi. Milan, 1812.

Esprit de la methode d'6ducation de Pestalozzi. 2 Tomes. Milan, 1^12.

Expose de la methode d'education de Pestalozzi. Paris, 1842.

KALISCH s. Diesterweg.

KAUFMANN, F. Nachricht von einer Pestalozzi'schen Probeschule. Luzern,
1806.

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(KELLER, LEONH.) Auch ein Wort aus der Padagogik von einem Nicht-
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KELLNER, L. Pestalozzistudien. (In der " Rkeinisch-Westfdlischen Schul-
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PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE. 177

KNIEWEL, TH. FR. Der Kuntsgeist im Kampfe mit dem Zeitgeist, oder
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KOKKI:SI>ONDENZBLATT des Archivs der Schweizerischen permanenten Schul-
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Karl Ritter, ein Lebensbild. Halle, 1864.

KRAUS, JOHN. Letters on Pe.stalozzi. 1867.

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KROGER, DR. Mittheilungen ueber Pestalozzi, etc. Hamburg, 1846.

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Erinnerungen a. meinera padagogischen Leben. Stuttg., 1840.

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KRUSI, H. Vaterlehren in sittlichen Wortdeutungen. Ein Vermachtniss
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Hinterlassene Gedichte, nebst dessen Nekrolog. Heiden, 1845.

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Pestalozzi : His life, work, and influence. "With portraits and illustra-
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LEDDERHOSE. s. Stern

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LIEDKH, gesainmelt zum Gebrauche und nach dem Beduerfnisse der Anstalt
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MERKUR, der deutsche (Artikel iiber Prstalozzi von Wieland). 1801.

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178 : .U).:>:IAN LITERATURE.

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MKZOER, G. C. Zur Erinnerung an Herder und Pestalozzi. Augsburg, 1854.

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Votum in der Kindergartenfrage. Uster, 1876.

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PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE. 179

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OPPEL, C. J. H. Pestalozzi's Leben, Wollen, und Wirken. Frankfurt
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PADAGOGISCHE BILDER, von Jul. Lehmann. Mit Vonvort von Zoller.
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nach seinem Gemueth, Streben und Schicksalen, ans dem Franzosi-

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der Revolutioniir, s. Bauer.

Ilch. Pestalozzi's unedirte Briefe und letzte Schicksale. Bern, 1834.

PESTALOZZI'S Idee <l»-r Meoschenbildnog, s. Mtinnich.

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PESTALOZZI und sdnc Bcdeutung fur unsere Zeit. In: " Die Gegen wart.'*
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— In: Schulkalender aus Franken fur 1861. 1 Jahrg. Wuerzburg.

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IbO

PE8TALOzzi-Ai.m:M. Xuin B.-su-n hilfsbeduerftiger Lehrerwaisen im Kgr.
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I'l -I ; !..»// | \\ A, S. Srhridl«T

PEST.VI. <»//.i FKIKK in lla-el, s. Vortrage.

- in Basel. Gedicht von einem soiner Schuelcr. Mittlu-ilungen Nr. 5,
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in Bran<li':ilmr_r. 1846.

in HernbtTg. 1846.

in Divsik-n. Leipzig, 1846-

in Krfurt, s. Thilo.

— - in Hamburg. 1846.

in Hildburghausen, 8. Heine.

in Kiel. 1846.

in Konigsberg. 1846.

in Plauen. 1846.

in St. Gallen. 1846.

Ein Wort an die Schullehrer des evangelischen Theila des Kantons

St. Gallen vom evangel. Erziehungsrath, auf den 12 Janoar, 1846.

in Wadensweil. 1846, s. J. Heer.

in Wt-infelden, 9. Bornh;i

in Win tort hur, s. Buechi, Gamper, Corrodi (W.).

Lieder zur hnndiTtjahriiri'ii G^iichtnisafeicr. 1846

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PBSTALO/ZITAO, die F. •; n vor deutechen Franen. Vortrage una

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fur Knaben bei Schlieren. Berichte, 1869, ff.

die deutsche. Rechenschaftsberichte, 1847, ff.

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PESTALOZZIAN LITERATURE. 183

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WEISS, DR. CH. Vorschalg zu einem Denkmal Pesttilozzi's. Merseburg, 1846.

W i EL AND, s. Merkur.

WIESINGER, J. Pestalozzi's Antheil an der Erneuerung des deutschen
Volkes. Kissingen, 1873.

WITTI:, KARL. Bericht an S. Majestat von Preussen ueber das Pestalozzi'-
sche Institut in Burgdorf, Leipzig, 1805.

WOCHENSCHRIFT, s. Niederer.

WOODBIDGE, W. C. Pestalozzi — Life and Principles. Boston, 1837.

ZAHN, Schulchronik, Nr. 1. 1846.

ZEHNDER, Jos. Geb. Stadlin, Pestalozzi, Idee und Macht der menschlichen
Entwicklung. Erster Band. Gotha, 1875.

ZELLKR, C. A. Historische Nachricht von einem Versuch ueber die Anwend-
barkcit tie Pestalozzi'schen Lehrart in Volksschulen. Tuebingen, 1804. Neue
Auflagc, 1810.

— ueber Sonntagsschulen nach Pestalozzi'schen Grnndsatzen. Leipzig, 1804.

— historisch-kritischer Bericht ueber das Normnlinstitut f. d. Landschullehrer
d. Kts. Zurich i. Hiedtli b Zurich. Winterthur, 1807.

- Die Gm milage einer bessern Zukunft. In Briefen an die Fuerstin von
Lippe -DetnioM. Zurich, 1808.

ZEZSCHWITZ, G. v. Der Padagog Hch. Pestalozzi. Erlangen, 1871.

ZOLLNER, J. C. Ideen ueber Nationalerziehuug. Berlin, 1804.

ZOLLER, DR. FR. Rousseau und Pestalozzi. Frankfurt a. M , 1851.

ZSCHOKKE, HCH. Historische Denkwuerdigkeiten der helvetischen Staat-
sumwiilzung. 1 804.

Zwei Briefe ueber Pestalozzi's Leben und Lehre an einen Mann von

Stande ("his" 1805, S. 695).

Physiologische Umrisse einiger ausgezeichneter Schweizer (Miszellen

1809, S. 333).

Ueber Heinrich Pestalozzi und die Ausgabe seiner Werke (" Ueber-

zieferuny zur Geschichte unserer Zeitt geaammdt von H. Zchokke" Jahrganq, 1807,
5.' 359-366).

Erinnerungen an H. Pestalozzi (In : " Prometheus fur Licht und Recht,"

I Thi 1832, S. 245-261).
Selbstschau. Aarau, 1842.

Reader : — Please to communicate any omission in the foregoing list known
to you to Henry Barnard, Hartford, Conn.

i a i

U.M//1AN I.IH.KVi

fount KM i»n* "f P
Kui >t. of Zurich, has published tv.o editions of Leonard and Gertrude,
following tin- text of the original cdii: L781, 17s-'., 17s.'), and 1787.

Tlio !;; .Mished in is:ji. in 4 vols., and the second in 18-1 ;

l'i Jl KUSBUM, < stahlisln d at Zurich in 1879, appointed a

committee (.11 the occasion of the c< ntennial of the tirM publication of

Leonard and G'« trutlf, to i»ue a new edition of that work in t\\o vol<. :

" Liinliard und Gertrud, enter und zirt it, r Tin il, neu herausyegeben zmn

/uil-Ausffabe torn ,l<ijir 17s! : Zurich L881; d

^jegeben ats Fortsezn '•„• de»

. ton der Kommitsion fur das I -hen:

Zurich. 16

This edition was accompanied by two treaties upon the " History and
Composition of L«ntnrd and <> by Dr. I!un/iker.

M \NN (Yo:i Friedrich) ha> jMihlisln-il M \« r.il of IYst:ilo/.yi'> best works
in Meyer's Bibliothek padagogiker Clasriker (Langensal/
J. If. Pcttalozzi's ausgewaJiUe Werke, mil PcstalozzCs Biographic; 4 vols.
M:um'> edition contains the following works: Leonard un<1 G< rtrude ;
The Evening Hour of a Hermit ; h'.rlnt<-tsfroin the N-/< in itzcrbbtlt ; &,j,,»i /•//
at Stan: ; II'»r Gertrude ttache* her Cfii'<h-,n . •• icncts con-

cerning the Idea of Elementary Education ; Address delivered at Lenzbourg
in 1809; PestaloxCs Addresses at hit home in 1808, 1809, 1810, 1811, 1812, and
1818; The Swan-Song. Mann follows the text of the original editions.

VFFAKTH(L. V. • tor and pastor of Liu ken\\ aide, published

from 1869-1878, a cheap edition of Pestalozzi's work>, the only com;
edition which has U-en edited since that of Cotta, under the title:

Pestalozzfs sammtlichc Werke, getichtet, vert>oU*t<ii<<]i<jt >n«i /////
den Einleitungen versehen, ton L. W. Seyffarth, Rector uinl }li'f.«j>r«
zn I.nrk, niralde.

Tin's edition was published at Brandenburg in itzteOI r. -ular voli.
and two stipplementary, and contains all of P«Malo/./.i's works which
SeyflFartli had been able to procure. It is more nearly complete than Cot-
ta's, and the text is taken from that of tl 1 nlitions except that of

Leonard and Oertrude, in which he is believed to have followed the text
of the first four volumes of Cotta's edition, which became in 1
the tiiM four parts of the romance, and under the headinir of part tl
ha> added what appeared as the fourth part in 1787, and which was omit-
ted in Cotta's edition.

D. ('. II' ath & Co., Boston, published in 1885, "Leonard .
:.d abridged by Kva Channinir." pp. 1S1, lUni".

in a thin volume of KM; es a summary

of P Teila^oiry in extracts fi-fin liis principal writings. Pul»

li-h« d at I'ernburi: in 1882. J. Uaemei--

The Milton Bradley Company, Sprinirtield, ^lass., issued, in 1887:

- PEDAGOGY IN ins OWN WMKI>S; with a Summary of his
by American. K:iLrli-h, <Jcrinan, and Frem-h Kduca-

t«T-. and a 1M of 400*tn-ati-( s devot. <1 to P.-talo/vi and PestaloZZianUm,
and an Ind- \ of K'» jiaires to the s:.: . liarnard's Memoir< of V<

lo//i. hi- .'-. -. and Disciples. Kdited by Henry Barnard. 228pp.

The ab.-ve volume of 228 panes, equivalent to . 1C t pagH in smaller type
and ; • .-ntains n. italozzi'l publications in hi- own words

• •.sn be found in all the different f: -lectinir him. in the Eng-

lUh laiiLMia-je. It . -nmmari''^ (,f ]\i± pcdairo-jy by Bus<e, Com-

t.Twe-, (Jill, Leitch. Mayo,(>uiek. Wood bridge, and others.

OBJECT TEACHING -PRINCIPLES AND METHODS.

[From the German of F. Basse, Principal of the Girls' High School of Berlin.*]

1. — AIMS AND PRINCIPLES.

PKDAGOGICAL authorities have the most diverse views upon object-
teaching, both in regard to its position and value in general, and to it*
principal and subsidiary objects in particular. The reason of this is, that
no other discipline embraces the individuality of the child on its physical
and spiritual sides to such a degree as this does. We speak of exercise
in observation, object-teaching, practice in thinking, or practice in under-
standing, practice in speaking or in language, just according as we are
thinking more especially of the sense-organs and observation, the ability
to think, the speaking a language. From the standpoint of an enlightened
science of teaching, the averaging of these various views, and the uniting
of these aims, is a necessity.

Since object-teaching is the earliest teaching, and that which begins
before the child is old enough to go to school (Pestalozzi, Froebel),
since it takes hold of the child in the full, undiflerentiated unity of his
powers, it is of importance to presuppose that the child has an inborn
individuality. That clumsy view which considers that what we call indi-
viduality does not arise until it is produced by the influence of time and
place, persons and circumstances, and, most of all, by education and
instruction, — that view, I repeat, prevails amongst those who strive to-
dispiritualize nature everywhere, and especially human nature, and is
unworthy of an enlightened science of teaching. Just as little as instruc-
tion can form its empirical conditions — that is, mental capacity and organ*
of speech — in the child, but, instead of that, presupposes them, just so
little can it dispense with the logical conditions ; namely, the /, endowed
with powers of observation, discernment, feeling, and willing, — what
Genesis calls " the living soul," what Solomon calls " the breath of the
divine power."

No investigator has yet succeeded in drawing the wonderful boundary-
line between the spiritual and the physical in human nature ; but if we are
trying to establish the meaning of the important idea, " intuition," we must
keep the physical and spiritual sides of our being apart.

Man, as a sensibly spiritual being, has, first of all, a receptivity for
impressions of that which is about him and goes on before him. This
receptivity is called sense. The activities, capacities, and powers of the
soul which come first into consideration are, therefore, of a purely receptive
kind. It is the decidedly preponderant activity of sense. While the im-
pressions of the exterior world are in the act of being appropriated by the
soul, the first soul-formations, the sensations and perceptions, arise.

* From Diesterweg's Wegwcitser, edition of 1873.

186 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

These are all matters of experience. We need only call to mind the
popular expression, "The stupid quarter of a year," which ends with the
child's first smile, that beam of consciousness which is greeted with infinite
joy. The child has at this period the ordinary vicissitudes and excite-
ments of its nervous life in pleasure and pain, as well as the wonderful
modifications of them in its sense-organs. It hears a fondling voice, looks
into a faithful eye, tastes the sweet milk, feels the mother's breast, the
gentle lifting and carrying of the arms, and the swinging motion of the
cradle. These are the sense-impressions, or sensations, which flow towards
him daily during the short moments of wakefulness.

With admirable wisdom, nature has so regulated the organism of the
child that it passes these first days and weeks in the arms of sleep ; for
could it immediately, like the young lambkin or colt, use its limbs, such an
immeasurable, incomprehensible world of impressions would stream in
upon its inner being, that self-consciousness, unable to master them, would
be forever overcome and unable to develop itself. Do not we teachers
have the corresponding experience daily in the dissipated and distracted
youth of our great cities? Do we not have it hourly when, in the presen-
tation of a new subject, we give too much at once, and overstep the limits
which lie in the power of self-consciousness ?

But the child has not merely sense-impressions or sensations, which bear
the token of individuality ; it has also sense-intuitions, that is, a multi-
plicity of sensations which are united together into a unit by the syn-
thesis of the interior sense, (named by Kant " the table of the inner sense,"
of which the five senses are only radiations.)

The beast also shares in both the sense-impressions and the sense-intui-
tions, and indeed, as we must confess, possesses these to a higher degree
than does man, since it belongs entirely to the world of sense, and is
•endowed with sharper organs of sense, so that it may exist in that world.

When, for instance, the ape is busy with an apple, he has, in the first
place, the sense-impression of sight, by means of his eye ; in the second
place, that of feeling in his hand ; in the third place, the impression of
smell, if he holds it to his nose ; in the fourth place, that of taste upon his
tongue ; and, finally, also that of hearing, if the fruit falls to the ground, or
seeds rattle. But these five different impressions do not remain in him as
one multitude, but are united upon the table of his inner sense without his
participation, and yet with infallible certainty, so that he has the unity
•comprehended within itself of the sense-impression of the apple.

Let us look at the horse. He hears the crack and swing of the whip ;
he has often enough felt the smarting impressions of it, and sees it imme-
diately when the coachman has the instrument in his hand ; but these three
sense-impressions remain in him, not as any thing isolated, but blend into
the unity of a sense-intuition.

The child is similarly circumstanced in relation to the external world.
As soon as longer pauses of wakefulness take place, the eye follows the
movements of the mother, and the impressions of her friendly face, of her
tender voice, of the nourishment she gives, of the lifting and carrying and

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 187

other cares she bestows upon him, unite in a total picture, in a unity of the
«ense-intuition.

The sense-impressions are the first, the sense-intuitions the second, and
the latter murk already a step of the greater powerfulness of life in gen-
eral, and of the development of sense in particular.

But, while the animal rises up into the world of sense-impressions and
sense-intuitions, the power of the inborn and now gently moving self-
consciousness raises the sense-impressions into perceptions, and thereby
raises also the sense-intuitions into intellectual intuitions.

The perceiving is next becoming assured of something, and in itself is
yet an undefined, general turning or application of the subjectivity to an
object, a direction of the spirit to an outside thing, a consciousness of
parts, character, and differences now becoming clear. But if a perception
is internally grasped and worked up, and the perception takes place with
a more decided consciousness, then the occurrence becomes a spiritual
intuition.

Intellectual intuition (or intuition absolutely) is each conscious, more
distinct perception or unity of several perceptions, with an internal summary.

Intuition is quite a significant word. To look (or to inspect) expresses
subjective activity, not mere seeing, as the eye of the animal may be
said to attach itself to the external object attracting the senses, but ex-
presses the act of sounding it. Intuition signifies such inspection as exalte
the object to the contemplator's real objectivity.

An intuition presupposes :

1. An immediately present object.

2. The influence of the same upon one or several sense-organs.

3. A spiritual activity, to bring this influence to the consciousness ;
therefore the active directions of the spirit, and the grasping of the same.*

The mind of the child now incessantly works on. He obtains mastery
more and more swiftly, and more and more victoriously over the sense-
impressions and sense-intuitions ; the wealth of perceptions and intellectual
intuitions, and his self-certainty in them, becomes ever greater ; finally, the
power of intuitive thinking becomes so great that single intellectual intui-
tions become IDEAS. It is these which have always left behind in the
child's soul the deepest traces, and they become ideas as soon as the mind
has power to objectivate them ; that is, to dispose of them as of things
owned, and, independently of the world of sense, to be able at will to call
them forth out of itself, or to thrust them back.

But here comes in the need of a sign ; that is, of a word, not as if the

* REMARK. Intuition, in the narrower, original sense, is a conscious impression
obtained through the sensation of sight. To intuit means, first of all, only the activity
of the soul called forth by sight. -But since the most distinct and the most surely
defined impressions are called forth, and all other sense-perceptions are supported,
perfected, and even corrected by the sight, the word intuition has, since the time of
Kant, been extended to all sensuous perceptions. In the wider sense, every impression
which is elevated by the sensibility (feeling) is an intuition; what IB external thereby
•becomes internal.

183 OBJECT TEACHING. BUS8E.

word called forth the idea, not as if it were the creator of the idea, but
it serves as the seal of the idea, as the signature of a mental possession.

Long before the first attempts at speaking, a little hoard of ripening
ideas has been formed, and a joy, a rapture accompanies the first efforts to
speak, for the child has need of feeling itself and enjoying itself in its self-
certainty.

From the idea fixed in the word, man finally rises in maturer age to the
conception, but let us add, only imperfectly. Few men who are accustomed
to think, take the trouble so to shape the hoard of their ideas and unde-
veloped conceptions that they become fixed according to their contents and
scope. The great multitude allow themselves to be satisfied with ideas and
conceptions as nature and life obtrude them, as it were, — and let us say
just in this place : object-teaching cannot and will not give an understand-
ing of the external world, which will be clearly conformable to its contents.
Whoever should aim to sharpen the formal side of this instruction in such
a way, would, in consideration of the mental immaturity of the child, com-
mit the severest mistake, and would give into the hands of the opponents-
of this system the sharpest weapons. Also exclusively to accentuate the
material or practical side of this instruction, the exercise of the senses and
the enrichment of the intuitions and ideas, would be censurable, since this
instruction is only of value when opposites are connected.*

Where an extent of phenomena is given, an intent or content must also
be sought. Where the external world is brought before the observation
(too often, alas ! only by pictures), the way to the understanding of it must
also be opened, and the later grasping of the conception in due proportion
to its contents must be prepared for.

Intuition without thinking would be blind, and thinking without intuition
would be empty, dead, word-cram, trifling.

Luther, with all the force of his German nature, was zealous in his oppo-
sition to that dead, abstract teaching and learning, and urged on the in-
tuitive method.

" Now," he said, " let us look directly upon the created things rather
than upon popedom. For we are beginning, thank God, to recognize his
glorious works and wonders in the little flower ; when we think how power-
ful and beneficent God is, let us always praise and prize and thank him for
it. In his creatures we recognize how powerful is his word, how prodigious
it is." He also drew attention to the relation of the thing to the word,
and considered the understanding of the word only possible by the under-
standing of the thing.

" The art of grammar," he says, " points out and teaches what the words
are called and what they mean, but we must first understand and know
what the thing or the cause is. Whoever wishes to learn and preach,
therefore, must first know both what the thing is and what it is called be-
fore he speaks of it — recognition of two kinds, one of the word, the
other of the thin?. Now to him who has not the knowledge of the thing
or action, the knowledge of the word is no assistance. According to an

* In other words, when the organ of comparison is brought into play.

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 189

*old proverb, ' what one does not understand and know well, he cannot
-speak of well.' "

No creative transformation of the essence of education could, however,
proceed from the school, which remained for centuries the serving-maid —
less of the Church than of Churchdom. The British giant Bacon had first
to give us his Novum Organum Scientiarum, that fiery token of a new time,
which had its central point in the natural sciences, and to bring on the abso-
lute break with the middle ages as well as with antiquity. As Luther came
forth against a mass of human traditions by which the manifestations of
God in the Holy Scriptures were disfigured, so Bacon appeared against the
traditions of human institutions which darkened the manifestations of God
in creation. Men were from that time forth no longer obliged to read the
arbitrary and fanciful interpretations of both manifestations, but could
read the manifestations themselves. He wished men to demand the imme-
diate contemplation of creation.

" Hence let us never turn the eyes of the mind," he says, " away from
the things themselves, but take their images into us just as they are." He
saw how in his time the physics of Aristotle \\ere studied, but not Nature.
Men read in books what the earth is, what their authors related about
stones, plants, animals, &c. ; but with their own eyes to investigate these
stones, plants, and animals, occurred to no one's mind. And thus men
were obliged to surrender at discretion to the authority of those authors,
since they ne\er thought of making a critical examination of their descrip-
tions and stories by their own immediate experiments. But such a prov-
ing was so much the more necessary because these authors themselves had
their information at third or fourth hand. It is incredible now what a
mass of untruth and fable has been heaped up everywhere in books of
natural history, what monsters their geology created, what magic powers
they gave to stones, &c. (See Raumer's Pad.)

When Bacon summoned the world to turn their minds from the past
and to look with open eyes into living nature, he not only gave to the
experimental sciences (including also pedagogics) a new impulse in general,
but he was also the father of realistic pedagogy. Ratichius and Comenius
learnt from him, and the ' real1 school, the industrial school, the polytechnic
institutions, down to the object-teaching of Father Pestalozzi, have in him
their foundation. When Bacon's pupil, John Locke, set up " the healthy
soul in the healthy body " as the chief maxim in education, is it not the
same thing as when Pestalozzi and Froebel desired " the harmonious
development of human nature," and preached conformity to nature in edu-
cation and instruction ?

In opposition to the empty, deadening word-teaching that grew rank in
the schools, " the poisonous seed of scholasticism," Ratichius exclaimed :

" Everything according to the ordering and course of nature, for all un-
natural and arbitrary violent teaching is injurious and weakens nature. Let
us have every thing without constraint and by inward necessity. First the
thing itself, then the conception or meaning of the thing. No rule before
•we have the substance. Rules without substance lead the understanding
•astray. Every thing through experiment, minute investigation.

190 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

" No authority is good for anything, if there is not reason and a foundation*
for it. No rule and no system is to be allowed which is not radically ex-
plored anew, and really founded upon proof."

Truly when one hears such golden words, one is tempted to ask, " Why
were those battles on the field of pedagogy necessary ? Why must a Franke,.
a Rousseau, a Basedow, a Pestalozzi, a Diesterweg, a Frcebel come, if, a&-
Jean Paul said in his Levana, ' merely to repeat that a hundred times, which
is a hundred times forgotten ' r "

In the path which Ratichius had trodden, strode forward a sovereign,,
and with all the power and burning zeal of a reformer, Amos Comenius.
the author of the first picture-book for children, the orbis pictus, in which-
every thing that can address the childish love of objects and representa-
tions of objects, whether in heaven or on earth, in the human or the animal
world, is illustrated and explained by description and comment

He is to be estimated, starting from a sound, compendious observation,
of human nature and its relations, as well as of pedagogic problems, as th&
spirited father of the so-called object-teaching as a special discipline.

He says : " With real insight, not with verbal description, must the in-
struction begin. Out of such insight develops certain knowledge. Not
the shadows of things, but things themselves, which work upon the mind
and the imaginative powers, are to lie ever near to the young. Place
every thing before the mind. Insight is evidence. Only where the things-
are actually absent, is one helped by the pictorial representation.

" Men must be led, as far as possible, to create their wisdom, not out of
books, but out of the contemplation of heaven and earth, oaks and beeches ;
that is, they must learn to see and investigate the things themselves. Let
the objects of physical instruction be solid, real, useful things, which affect
the senses and the powers of the imagination. That happens when they
are brought near to the senses, visible to the eyes, audible to the ears, fra-
grant to the nose, agreeable to the taste, grateful to the touch. The begin-
ning of knowledge should be from the senses. What man has an insight
into with his senses, impresses itself deeply on the memory, never to bfr
forgotten.

" Man first uses his senses, then his memory, next his understanding,
and lastly his judgment. Let us teach not merely to understand, but to-
express what is understood. Speech and the knowledge of things must
keep step. Teaching of things and of speech must go hand in hand. Words-
without the knowledge of things are empty words."

This running parallel of the simultaneous learning of things and words-
was the deep secret of the method of Comenius.

In the time of Hermann Franke, — who, as the noble friend of man, the-
father of the poor and the orphan, the great champion of the German peo-
ple's-school, deserves to be called the forerunner of Pestalozzi, in organiz-
ing talent so far superior to him, — the elevation of burger life had become
so great, the relations of trade and commerce had been so widened, and the-
pedagogics of Comenius had created so much esteem and astonishment ia
the realists (physicists), that the ' Real'-School was able to blossom forth
upon the ground of that truly practical piety which raised morality to a

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 191

principle of education. The general law of the method was continual con-
versation with the pupils ; catechism was the soul of the instruction. All
subjects which had heretofore been taken for granted must be looked into-
and examined critically at the moment. Rare objects of nature were col-
lected in a naturalist's cabinet. Especially were the children to become
acquainted with the nature lying around them, with the occupations of hu
man life, witli the workshops of the handicrafts.

When such pedagogic wisdom as this did not bear the hoped-for fruits,--
when the schools, which had been added to life, as it were, by a beneficent
piety, were estranged from it again by an ossified pietism — the blame lay,
as always and chiefly, in the direction which has hitherto fettered the human
mind whenever it has set form above essence.

But as in the domain of statesmanship, so also in the domain of pedagogy,
a revolution was preparing in France.

It was Rousseau who, in " Emil," wrote a book for the literature of th*»
world which Gothe called " the Gospel of human nature."

Let us turn our eyes wholly away from the external and unsuccessful
experiment, since " Emil " is indeed only the form for proclaiming the
doctrine of the Pedagogy, the candlestick for these flames, the setting for
these pearls ; this book was and is, especially for France, as well as for the
world-wide development of Pedagogy generally, a fact.

Only Pestalozzi has with equally imposing power fought for the means
of education gained by listening to Nature itself, for the beginning of educa-
tion at birth, for instruction gained by insight and self-activity, for self-
formation through experience ; but Pestalozzi stands higher than Rousseau,
for as the latter had not the conception of the mother, so was wanting in
him the paternal power of the heart, with which he might, with his " Emil,"
have grasped and sustained a unique and fully authorized influence over
that great whole — a nation. In the meantime, the flood of light which
flowed from him over Pedagogy, was so potent that the power which block-
heads opposed to the illumination could only be compared to the mist which
softens the light of the sun.

Under the influence of this spirit, which came to be dominant, the school
of the philanthropists was formed, which earnestly pursued the ideas of
Rousseau : " Everything through and for the harmonious development of
man." The founder and representative of this aim was the energetic Basedow.

In his elementary work, accompanied with one hundred Chodowieckischer
copper-plates (the forerunner of our picture-plates), he gave out an arranged
plan of all necessary knowledge for the instruction of youth from the begin-
ning up to the academic age.

This normal work was followed by the " Philantropin," at Dessau, as a nor-
mal school. Distinguished men, Campe, Salzmann, Rochow, worked still
further in the spirit of Basedow. The noble Von Rochow wrote : " Youth
is the time to be taught. First in school comes the practice of the senses
and the application of the souls in attention or watchfulness, particularly
the habit of sight-seeing and hearing ; then practice in reflection upon
every thing which happens, and in comparison and discrimination."

In the Basedow-Rochow period there was a strong opposition to the care-

192 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

less old school-ways. Instead of the one-sided training of the memory,
they wished for an awakening, soul-refreshing instruction and development
of the thinking power in the pupil. In order to secure this, they proceeded
to teach them to think, to speak, to observe, to investigate ; they recog-
nized that above all things, correctly apprehending senses were a funda-
mental condition for correct judgment. Now they insisted upon further
material apparatus for culture, and upon a better method, upon enriching
the pupils' minds with material knowledge and multiplied accomplishments.

The King in this kingdom, the genius of Christian-Jin man pedayogy
was Pestalozzi.

In the midst of the wrecks of his life he still found, as a single costly pearl,
the motto of education for all times : The development of human nature on
the ground of nature ; education of the people on the firm ground of the
people and the people's needs.

In opposition to the petty and pernicious principle of utility he found in
the eternal ideal of human life the welfare of man.

Tlie development of human nature on the ground of nature is the grand
thought to which Pestalozzi sought to give permanence to his method
("Book for Mothers "), which his truest pupil, Froebel, sought in the kin-
dergarten, and their followers in the so-called object-teaching.
""""When I look back and ask myself," says Pestalozzi, "what I have
offered peculiarly for the cause of human instruction, I find that I have
established the highest, most advanced principles of instruction in the
recognition of intuition as the absolute foundation of all knowledge ; and
setting aside all single doctrines, have endeavored to find the essence of
teaching itself and the ultimate form by which the culture of our race must
be determined as by nature itself."

""" All the pedagogues were agreed then, that for the first instruction visible
material, lying within the sphere of the child and accessible to him, is to be
chosen for observation, expression, and information, together with the first
practice in reading, writing, and counting. An object-teaching conformable
to nature, aiming to produce self-activity in the child, was the word of the
new pedagogy.

We will now pass on to the contemplation of the place, of the aim, and
of the method of object-teaching.

The foundation of instruction forever won by Pestalozzi in the principle
of intuition, soon made an end to the so-called pure-thinking exercises
of the Basedow school, which, executed with arbitrarily selected and most
unmeaning material, occupied an isolated place in the instruction, and
missed the living connection. It had been seen that these thinking exer-
cises, ignoring the material worth of knowledge, led to an empty formalism ;
that the one-sid«ed enlightening of the understanding must lead to poverty
of mind in other fields.

Now since Pestalozzi had demanded for each subject of instruction the
power of intuition, the plunge into the material, its all-sided consumption
and its organic relations, the isolated exercises in pure thinking were no
longer needed, and they were struck out from the plan of the lessons, and
the so-called object-teaching took their place. Pestalozzi, in his strivings

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 193

to seize upon the truth, did homage to the thinking exercises, and once, it
is said, passed six weeks with the children musing over a hole in the car-
pet. Later, as the importance of nature as the best teacher disclosed
itself to him, he set up (see " The Mother's Book ") the human body as, ac-
cording to his view, the nearest and ever-present object-lesson to the child.

The body is certainly the nearest material object to the child, but it is
not thg nearest material for object-teaching. Does not the child direct his
eyes first to things around him, to furniture, plants, animals, &c., before he
directs them to his own person ? to colors and forms rather than to his
limbs and their movements ? Not merely the object in itself, but the appli-
cation of it in pointing out and naming the different parts of the body, a
mere mass of names, the situation of the different parts and exclamations
of wonder about them, the connection and use of the limbs, &c., is not
a lesson conformable to nature. If Pestalozzi's scholars repeated — the
mouth is under the nose, the nose is over the mouth, and similar remarks,
the material gain for the children must have been like that of the peasant
when he threshes empty straw. The mistake of that experiment time and
progress has swept away. Pestalozzi's scholars soon went on in a more
natural manner, and struck out the following sequence : schoolroom, fam-
ily, house, house-floor, the sitting-room, the kitchen, the ground, the cellar,
the yard, the habitation, the city, the village, the garden, the field, the
meadow, the wood, the water, the atmosphere, the sky, the season, the
year and its festivals, man, body and soul — God.

Others endeavored to add essentially similar material in the course of the
year. This instruction in and from nature, which developed continually into
thoughtful intuition and intuitive thinking, and unfolded the power of
speech in every aspect, from the simplest forms up to poetical ones and to
•song, — in short, which took captive the whole child in his intuition, his
thinking, feeling, and willing, and enticed him to self-activity, seemed to
•certain inspired pupils of Pestalozzi to be materially and formally so im-
portant that they declared a special place for it in their plan of instruction
to be quite insufficient, and that it was the all-important CENTRE and sup-
port, with wholesale condemnation of the material aim of reading and
writing in the first school-year. With object-teaching as the common
foundation, drawing, writing, sounding the letters (lautireri), reading, de-
claiming, singing, exercises in grammar and composition, geometry,
arithmetic, domestic economy, natural science — up to religion, were to be
developed in a natural way.

The Vogel Schools in Leipzig have sought to realize these high ideas.

It must indeed be confessed that these ideas can be realized in the hands
of a teacher who is furnished with rich pedagogical experience, who has a
profound understanding of his mother-tongue in grammatical and aesthetic
relations, and who, above all other things, has preserved his childlike dis-
position. Such a teacher will succeed in reaching this summit of educa-
tional art founded on the great law of human development from unbroken
unity up to the unfolding of principles into their reunion in a still higher
unity ; and he will, in all probability, do more in the two first school-years
to bring the children farther on, to lay a wise and correct foundation of

194 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

culture, than if he began according to the old practice, with separate
branches of instruction from the first hour. But whether it is possible to
fix the central point in a series of normal words, which, planned on a one-
sided principle, are yet expected to serve the most varied principles, is
more than questionable.

One of the most important testimonies to the place and value of object-
teaching, is Grassmann, who, in his " Guide to Exercises in Speaking and
Thinking," as the natural foundation for the sum-total of instruction, con-
fesses himself friendly to this high culture. He says : " The first exercises in
language must be in conversations, which are to make the children acquaint-
ed with the things of the external world, their properties, their relations
and connections, and lead them to receive this outward world correctly
in:o themselves, to portray it again, to shape it, and to make an inward
representative world of it which will exactly correspond to the outer ; also
to guide them to readiness in speech, especially upon the objects of the
senses." In later times, Richter (of Leipzig) has described this standpoint
in the most striking manner in his prize treatise upon Object-Teaching.

Testimonies have likewise been given to the opposite view. Based upon
the predominating formal aim of object-teaching, together with the sug-
gestion of postponing the material aim of reading and writing, and the
duty and right to handle every subject and to strive at every step for the
whole in the quite antiquated maxims of the word method and the culti-
vation of the memory, they have not merely left out the object-teaching to
this extent, but have stricken it especially and wholly from the programme
of lessons, and have tried to prepare the same fate for it as was decided
upon for the abstract exercises in thinking.

For two decades has resounded from that side the saying : no indepen-
dent object-teaching but in connection with the Reader.

Reasons :

a. The object of observation (Anschauung) and conversation upon it is
for the most part too prosaic to the child's cirole of thinking and ideas to
give any exciting elements of knowledge.

b. The artistic systematic treatment of objects, and the specialties to be
sought out in every individual thing, (size, parts, situation, color, form,
use,) is a torment to children and teachers.

c. The desire that children should already speak upon whole proposi-
tions is opposed to the way and manner in which backward-speaking chil-
dren improve and enrich their speech. They need in the beginning more
single words and expressions for things and actions which they perceive,
rather than little propositions which they may repeat like parrots.

d. If we wish to help the thinking and speaking of the young, we need
no special objects lying around ; but the means of help and culture lie in
instruction, in speech and reading, and in biblical history.

e. Our object-teaching was only an hour of gabble, a training without
any special value. The judgment of another voice is : " If it was meant
that the object-teaching should belong specially or strikingly only to the
earlier years of development, or should serve only for the elementary

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 195

material of teaching, there lies at the foundation of this conception a
false idea of the nature of man, as well as a false idea of what
man has to appropriate for the development and nourishment of his
morally spiritual nature. Insight belongs to thinking as warmth belongs
to the sunlight. Where it is wanting to the thinking, the pulse-beat of
spiritual life is wanting. The method of insight must show itself power-
fully for the development and exercise of the mental activity during the
whole period of teaching. Object-teaching is to be brought into requisition
in every stage of learning."

Beautiful and true as these words sound, they are yet one-sided. Do
those, then, who wish to recommend independent object-teaching mis-
understand and deny the necessity and worth of teaching by intuition?
By no means. Reading, writing, counting, memorizing, singing, biblical
stories, are the departments of instruction of the elementary classes. It is
not contradictory to unite and sprinkle in exercises in thinking, observing,
and speaking, and above all to do this lovingly and with power. Yet how
is it with the progressive ordering of this physical (realen) fundamental
knowledge? Does not our object-teaching bring its order with it in the
most natural manner, while the exercises in observation and in language,,
in this addition to the primer and the reader, have a great dispersive*
power, a want of design, an instability, and dissipating, of the mind ?

What Volter says is scarcely more than an empty phrase : " What a.
pupil already knows, what is not new to him, what he learns without in-
struction, is not the object of his curiosity, and consequently cannot be the
means of awakening his mental power."

But the object-teaching will reach several ends at once: It joins on its
material to what is already known, adds something new and interesting to
this material for culture, so that the mind is excited and awakened, called ,
into activity, and its circle widened. It would be indeed a misconception ,
and a failure if we should talk with the little ones about nothing but what
they already know and have heard and felt. We would have no hold of
them, it would be flat and uninteresting, and would only get them to sleep..
No one would designate this as the object-teaching we so highly prize.

The famous Prussian Regulation of October 3d, 1854, expresses itself
plainly in regard to object-teaching :

"Since all the instruction is to be based upon observation, and must be
used as well for thinking as for speaking, abstract instruction in observation,
thinking, and speaki' g, is not in place in the elementary school of a single
class."

Goltzsch, as the one interpreter of the Regulations, sees in object-instru.^
tion only " empty, unessential exercises in thinking and speaking, and
puts in its place memory-cramming. The seizing, imitating, and appro-
priating of worthy and rich thoughts presented in fit material, in excellent
spoken expression, with which the child must busy himself long and re-
peatedly, according to the nature of the thing, leads him yet unpractised in
thinking, and especially the child poor in words, farther on in his thought
and speech-forming than the tedious nml wearisome exercises in his own.

OBJECT Tll.\« HIM!. BUSSE.

thinking upon all sorts of dry stuff which is adapted neither to work ex-
citingly upon his thinking powers nor his feelings."

The words sound sophistical, for they seem to be directed against the
long rejected exercises in thinking, while they really mean object-teaching.

The better interpreter of the Regulation, Vormann. rich in experience,
restores object-teaching through a back door, when he says, " It is abso-
lutely necessary (that is, under all circumstances) to have conversations
with children to a certain extent, and of u certain kind, as they usually can
neither speak coherently themselves nor understand the coherent speech of
the teacher. This is because they need to be made susceptible of further
instruction, whether oral or from the book. But these conversations must
not be about abstractions like space and number ; they must be about real
objects in their immediate surroundings."

" Some cultivation in thinking and speaking is one of the first and most
indispensable requisitions," says Goltzsch, thus contradicting himself, if a
real instruction in reading is to be possible, and if any instruction is to an-
swer its aim.

A methodical man, Otto, of Miihlhausen, (Allgcm. Schulzcitung.
Juliheft, 1842,) rather arrogantly allows himself to perceive that, " Intelli-
gent exercises in observation have been organized into a certain teaching of
objects, but the practical part of this is nothing else but domestic economy,
natural science, geometry, counting, &c., in their elements. There is no
reality in it as a particular subject. Now follow the evidence that we only
see and look into, that which we have known and understood, and from
that is inferred the strange assertion that it is not the observation, and
consequently not the object-teaching, which helps to correct representa-
tions and conceptions, but language, and especially book-language"

We will let Mr. Otto take the second step before he has taken the first,
and rather hold to the sayings of Gothe, the master of language : —

" I think also from out of the truth, but from out of the truth of the five
senses/'

Xature is the only book that offers great things of intrinsic worth on
all its leaves."

" I am the deadly enemy of empty words."

" I must go so far, that every thing must be known from observation,
and nothing by tradition or name."

In gigantic proportions by the depth of his grasp above the afore-
mentioned opponents of object-teaching stands the Bavarian school-
counsellor, Riethammer; and we could make no reply to that-witty censur-
ing voice, if we did not know that in spite of all, that there is an
object-teaching which, imparted with vivacity on the part of the teacher, is
suited in full measure to the nature of the child, and to the material, so far
as the child has relation to it ; and if we had not a hundred times had living
evidence how this instruction works when a skilful hand makes use of it,
how the class are all eye and ear, how the children live in it, and how
eagerly they look forward to these hours as their most delightful ones.

On the contrary, it makes a sad impression wh^n this contemporary of
Pestalozzi confesses to the following views:

OBJECT TKA THING. BUSSE. 197

" The only exercises in intuition, which are essential as an artistic
direction of the mind in every kind of first instruction, are those on ohjects
of the inner world, which are not like those of the outer world, indepen-
dent of the mind itself, but must first be brought to view. These exercises
must begin early, before the mind loses its pliability to them by the pre-
ponderating influence of the outside world ; and it is, therefore, a double
loss to fill up this season of formation with outside things which can offer
nothing to the mind so long as it is not ripe for profound contemplation,
and yet, which take up, unavoidably, such a broad span of our lives.

" Exercise of observation of spiritual subjects, as the earliest instruction,
is nothing else but the exercise of memory.

" For the independent observation of intellectual subjects, that is, for
intellectual comprehension of the world of ideas, the youthful mind is not
yet ripe ; it needs to be much more exercised first. But this exercise
requires that, before all things else, it shall learn to fix intellectual objects,
and bring them into view. For that, it is necessary that they become
objective ; they will become so when stated in words, in the expressions in
which they have received form by devout and spiritual-minded men. To
accept ideas in this objective form, is called, bringing spiritual subjects to
the intuition ; and in memorizing such expressions, the problem for the
beginning of instruction is consequently solved."

It is only astonishing to us that Riethammer does not propose for this
process of objectiving (of bringing spiritual subjects to the intuition) the
language of the republic of letters, Latin, as was the custom a hundred
years ago. A compromise is no longer possible here.

The memory-cram is to solve the problem of a natural educational
instruction. The " word method " is to be mind-forming ; mechanism and
death are to be called life !

Katichius, Comenius, Franke, Rousseau, Basedow, Rochow, Pestalozzi,
have lived and striven in vain.

•• Hold f,i-t what thou hast, that no man may take away thy crown," says
Scripture ; and object-teaching is such a crown.

But to take the medium between the extremes is our task.

We cannot follow the idealist of object-teaching so far as to grant him,
at once, the exclusiveness he desires for this foundation, because the
pedagogic endowment, presupposed for its success, which extols the
handling of the material to the point of art, is found only in the rarest
cases; and also, because we must take into account the demands of parents
and relatives upon the schools. For, in the very first school year they
follow the development of the child with disproportioned interest, and base
the measure of their judgment upon his progress in reading, writing, and
arithmetic. Still less will we reject all object-teaching, but will demand for
the sake of its personal aim, that it shall be made the underpinning, and
retaining the principle of the intuitive method in all domains and with all
kinds of material, and the handling of all the branches of instruction, as of
an organic whole, that it shall be intrusted, at least three or four times a
week, for two hours at least, not to the hands of the youngest, most inex-

19H OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

perlenced teacher, man or woman, but to the most skilful, practical, ana
experienced.

In this view of ours the majority of the schools in Germany, at this
period, agree.

The more the material for the exercises in observation and language in
the first school years is selected in reference to the most childlike demands,
and the more adapted to their minds, the more exciting to independent
action are the exercises, the more will the child show earnestness in observ-
ing, and the better judgment will he form about things, circumstances, ap-
pearances ; the more likely will he be to judge correctly how and what
they are in themselves, and what connection they have with life itself. The
endeavor should not be to urge the children into all kinds of physical
knowledge in a dry and meagre manner, but to enrich them with such
knowledge whose ample material for the purpose of instruction leads to
good strong fundamental principles. These should be wisely limited (the
introduction into all possible physical knowledge being kept in view), as a
check upon vague and confused wandering.

Instruction gains in contents and value when it handles in good order a
worthy, comprehensive, and able material, and rises into independent ob-
ject-teaching in the first school years.

Different Kinds of Intuitions for Object Teaching*

1. Sensuous intuitions : not given merely mediately through the senses,
but immediately ; outward objects.

2. Mathematical intuitions : representations of space, time, number, and
motion ; also belonging to the outward world, not directly given by the
senses, but mediately.

3. Moral intuitions, arising out of the phenomena of virtuous life in
man.

4. Religious intuitions, arising in the nature of man, whose sentiments
relate him to God.

5. ^Esthetic intuitions, from the beautiful and sublime phenomena of
nature and human life, (including artistic representations.)

6. Purely human intuitions, which relate to the noble, mutual relations
of man in love, faith, friendship, &c.

7. Social intuitions, which comprise the unifying of men in the great
whole ; in corporations, in community and state life. The school cannot
offer all these subjects of intuition according to their different natures and
their origin, for it will not take the place of life ; it only supposes them,
connects itself with them, and refers to them, but it points them out in all
their compass, occupies itself with them, and builds up with them on all
sides the foundation of intelligence.

The sensuous intuitions relate to the corporeal world and the changes in
it. The pupil must see with his own eyes as much as possible, must hear

* We here add a beautiful resume of the intuitions as they were given by our old
master Dietrterweg in answer to the questions: "What intuitions? What shall we
•waken ? Out of what fields, whence, shall they be taken ? >' " Let us look at the
different kinds," he says; " let us enumerate them."

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 199

with his own ears, must use all his senses, seek out the sensuous tokens
of things in their phenomena upon, under, and abov the ground, in min-
erals, plants, animals, men and their works, sun, moon, and stars, physical
phenomena, £c.

The mathematical intuitions are developed out of the sensuous by easy
abstractions lying near at hand ; the representations of the expansion of
space compared one with another ; the things of time one after another ;
the representations of number — the how much; the representations "of
change in space, and the progression of the same. The simplest of these
representations are those of space ; the rest become objects of intuition
by means of these, by points, lines, and surfaces; in arithmetic, for ex-
ample, points, lines, and their parts are the material of intuitions.

The moral intuitions come to the pupils through their lives with theii
relatives, or in school through school-mates and teachers. These are natu-
rally inward intuitions, which are embodied in the expression of the coun-
tenance, in the eye, and in the speech. The pupil's personal experience
here, as everywhere, is the chief thing. Happy the child who is sur-
rounded by thoroughly moral, pure men, whose manifestations lay in him
the moral foundation of life. The moral facts of history are pointed out
to him by the teacher in a living manner, by means of the living word of
the eloquent lips and the feeling heart.

To religious intuitions the child comes through the contemplation of
nature, its phenomena and beneficent workings ; through the piety of his
parents, the commands of the father and mother ; through the contempla-
tion of the community in the house of worship ; through religious songs
in the school ; through religious instruction and confirmation in the school
and church ; through religious-minded teachers and pastors ; through
biblical stories, &c.

^Esthetic intuitions are awakened by the sight of beautiful and sublime
objects of nature (stars, crystals, sky and sea, rocky mountains, landscapes,
storms, thunder-showers, flowers, trees, flowing rivers, &c.), and of objects
of art (pictures and picture galleries, statues, gardens, products of the poet-
ical art and of human speech). We can classify their specific differences,
calling them moral, aesthetic, &c., but I hold it better to place them in one
category. The strong moral law, equally binding upon all men, is not
included in this field, for its contents cannot be unconditionally required.
That belongs to the free beautifully human development which is dependent
upon conditions that are not attainable by every one.

The so -called purely human intuitions are furnished by the nobly-formed
human lives of individual men, whose characters proceed from the strong-
est conceptions of morality and duty, from sympathetic affections, friend-
ship, love, compassion, and loving fellowship, and other shining phenomena
of human life as they are met with in the more refined development and
culture of lofty and pure men. Happy is the child who is in their sphere !
If the home has nothing to offer in this respect, it is difficult to supply the
want. Let the teacher do what is possible by the hold he has upon the
school and by all his own manifestations.

The social intuitions, that is, the social circumstances of men in a large

200 (MULCT TKAriiiNr,. in

sense, are determined for the child by the manifestations of the community
in the schools, in the churches, in the assemblies of the people, in public
festivals, and especially by the stories in which the living insight of the
teacher into the life of states, peoples, and warlike communities defines to
the scholar the best living representations of great deeds.

Our early state's life, which was domestic . not public, was an obstacle to
the growth of these intuitions, so important to development. How can
he who has experienced nothing, understand history P How can he who
has not observed the people, make a living picture of its life ? Small re-
publics have a great advantage in respect to the observation of public life
and patriotic sentiment. Words, even the most eloquent, give a very un-
satisfactory compensation for observation. The year 1848 has in this re-
spect brought most important steps of progress.

Prominent above all other considerations is the importance of the life,
the standpoint, the intelligence, the character of the teacher, for laying the
foundation of living observation in the soul, in the mind, in the disposition
of the pupil. What the teacher does not carry in his own bosom, he cr.nnot
awaken in the bosom of another. It can be compensated by nothing else,
if there is failure in him. The teacher must himself have seen, observed,
experienced, investigated, lived and thought as much as possible, and should
set up a model in moral, religious, esthetic, and purely human and social
respects. So much as he is, so much is his instruction worth. He is to his
pupils the most instructive, the most appreciable, the most striking object
of observation.

The Immediate Aim* of Object-teaching.

Thus far we have considered object-teaching in its relations to teaching
in general. Now we must turn our attention to its immediate aims. 1st.
Object-teaching may be made the special means of training the senses.
Such teaching would consist of exercises in observation, in order to develop
the latent strength of each sense, that of the eye in particular. 2d. The
chief aim of object-teaching may be to develop forms of observation and
the laws of thought. These exercises we may call exercises in thinking.
3d. Object-teaching may have for its main purpose the development of lan-
guage, and all the lessons therein may be exercises in speaking and writing.
The proper thing to do is to unite sense-training, thinking, teaching, and
language exercises, and work them together, — the great aim of object-
teaching. The training of the senses lies at the foundation of all, and
must be made the chief means of all teaching.

But it must be conceded that an intelligent guidance to right seeing and
hearing is a wonderful help.

Thousands have eyes and see not ; ears, and hear not. Thousands go
through a museum and come out none the wiser. They have in fact seen
nothing, because they have not intelligence. Observation without repre
sentations and conceptions remain blind. Real exercises in observation
without exercises in thinking are an impossibility. On the other side,
exercises in thinking must work injuriously rather than usefully if they
have not found in living observation a fountain of unconquerable interest.

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. ^01

And since it is a striking fact that no representation, no conception exists
without a word, since we cannot think except in language, thoughtful ob-
serving and observing thoughtfulness, in connection with a continuous
development of the mother-tongue, is the chief aim of object-teaching.*

To this aim, as soon as a child is abie to write down a proposition, also
to confirm to some extent what is expressed, which must be reached to-
ward the end of the first school year, two subordinate aims are allied :

1. Preliminary exercises in grammar in the systematic use of cases, of
prepositions, and of adverbs of time and place hut above all of word-for-
mations.

2. Exercises in composition by writing down little groups of proposi-
tions connected according to the sense.

II. THE METHOD.

The chief laws of the method are :

1. Instruction by actual inspection.

Life wakes up life. The real object is therefore to be shown before the
picture of it, (if the secret of life does not work so attractively that th" in-
struction becomes impossible ; but in the cas » of living animals, a living
stork or dog in the schoolroom abolishes the possibility of instruction, for
the interest of the children is so powerful in the iife itself that it does not
objectivate the individual thing, which is thus forgotten.)

Amoiii: pictures, the model takes the precedence of the drawing; among
the drawings, tin- mlon-d of the shaded; and the shaded again are to be
pr«T'-nvil to the linear d'awinj;.

Every object that is spoken of, and aa their relations must stand out
clear and defined before the outer sensuous and the inner mental observa-
tion (or inspection) of the scholar, and on that account must be advanced
from the real, sensuous, to the inner abstract inspection.

There is nothing more aimless than object-teaching without actual obser-
vation (inspection). The instruction can first bear justly and correctly the
name of object-teaching and of the intuitive quality, when it is based
upon the actual observation (inspection) of things or relations. What
many words and long definitions will not effect, will be effected by imme-
diate observation (or inspection).

Object-teaching, therefore, needs the beat use and application of the
material of observation. The kindergarten justly uses little staff*, sticks
of various lengths, cubes of various kinds of wood, building boxes. The
teachers of the lower classes in the elementary schools do right to show
various objects, models made of wood or paper, plants in nature, or colored
pictures of animals, plants, and human productions. Such apparatus for
observation works in the most favorable manner upon the development of
the children. In many ways the principle was good in the early object-
teaching, but the observation defective ; they took care to impart knowl-

* We turn wholly away from the little speaking-exercises whieli figure as a part of
the first instructions in reading, and have only tho outward aim of making clear and)
distinct, individual sounds, and cannot therefore argue with Luben, that object-teaching
and the teaching of roading should form an undivided whole.

202 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

«dge, but made too many words, and neglected the apparatus. Since all
recognition or understanding of things proceeds from observation, is
founded upon incentives to it, upon perceptions and inspection, and in the
mental work already proceeds from observations gained, it is above aC1
things important that clear and correct observation be attained by means
of real things. An object-teaching without apparatus for observation is
like a house without a foundation.

Instruct by means of observation while you are aiming at the waking up
of the inner sense. As soon as you have attained a little whole, within an
hour, convince yourself of the condition of the observation (or inspection)
thus gained, before you put away the object or the picture of it, in order to
let the child re-produce what he has gained.

2. Go from the easy to the difficult.

a. Then, from the known to the unknown, from the near to the distant.
Go on and add something to the observations which you know the child

has made, and when you have united all these widen the image as fast as
the comprehensive power of the child will allow you to do so. It. must uot
be a question here of setting up a special way as a generally desirable one.
Whether one places the room in the foreground, and passes out from the
schoolhouse, in ever wider circles up to the sky, with the sun, moon,
and stars, or whether one looks upon the year, with its phenomena, as th^
nearest real thing, and adds to the changes of the seasons the material
which nature and culture offer, it is all the same ; both may be excellent ;
everything depends upon the handling.

b. Go from the simple to the complex; then from single objects to two
and several, that the acts of comparison and discrimination may come into
play. Then let more objects come into the group. Groups form at last a
collected image.

Go also in language from the simple to the complex ; from naked pro-
position to the widened, connected-compound, abbreviated propositions, &c.

c. Go from the concrete to the abstract. Proceed from the contemplation
of the sensuous signs, before you draw upon the higher laws of thought.
Do not apply foundation and consequence, or even condition, if cause and
effect have not previously been made clear.

Go first from the real, then from the possible and necessary ; first the
individual thing, then the particular thing, then the general thing.

3. Give in each hour, if possible, a little whole in contents and form.
Work out every lesson in writing, for only so can you satisfy this kind

of instruction in which contents and form are equally important and must
develop themselves symmetrically ; thus only can you know to be perfected
what you have already given, what you are now giving, and what you wish
to give next; then this instruction, like no other, will show you its forma-
tive reaction. But be cautious not to overstrain the child in your strivings
to round off and complete his power. Instruct according to the nature of
the material, but instruct also according to the nature of the child.

4. Use poetry in the service of this instruction.

An infinite numjber of the most beautiful poems offer themselves as il
•pontaneously, as flowers of contemplation. You will in years have the

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 203

richest variety ; and do not forget, when you lay this instruction before your-
self and build it up as a whole, that it is poetry which seizes and ennobles
the man — the whole man.

5. Use conversation.

As to the outer form of the method, no instruction offers so much scope
for exciting richly compensating conversation as this. Obviously, as in
every catechism (Socratic method), there is given back, from sentence to
sentence, a clear group of well-arranged observations, in the most naturally
connected principles possible. Thus the teacher has the richest opportunity
to introduce in a living manner, from-time to time, little poems and stones.

III. IMPORTANT WRITINGS AND AIDS FOR OBJECT-TEACHING.

1. Easy Directions for Intelligent Instruction in the German Language,
including Speaking, Drawing, Reading and Writing, Observation by
Inspection and Understanding. By W. HARNISCH. Breslau, 1839.

This pamphlet, which is specially a guide to the first instruction in lan-
guage, belongs here, because it at the same time contains exercises in
observation and speaking. The first section of the second part treats of
them: — 1. The beginning of this instruction; 2. To know and to name
objects; 3. The counting of things; 4. The parts of things; 5. Color;
€. Form and situation ; 7. Size ; 8. Sound ; 9. Feeling, smell, and taste ;
10. Prime material of things, circumstance, and use ; 11. The arranging
and order of things; 12. Cause and effect; 13. Necessity and arbitrari-
ness, means and aims; 14. Representation and sign; 15. Surroundings
and relations ; 16. Summary of the foregoing in one whole.

The author's view of the value and place of this instruction may be seen
in the following remarks :

" The exercises in observation contain not merely many germs, which
may develop into godliness (religion), but almost the beginnings of all
other objects of instruction ; they form the roots of instruction. Think-
ing especially cannot exist without them, and without thinking there is no
instruction in language properly so called. The exercises in observation
must there, as everywhere, take the precedence of exercises in thinking
and understanding.

" Exercises in thinking and understanding without exercises in observa-
tion are plants without roots. We see this in common life. For the more
man has seen and experienced, the more all-sided are his thinking-powers ;
and all exercises in understanding which have proceeded only out of the
forms of the understanding without insight or reality, we are accustomed
to call by the contemptuous name of school-wisdom.1'

2. Guide to Exercises in Thinking and Speaking as the Natural Founda-
tion for General Instruction; particularly for the First Instruction in
Language in the Peoples Schools. By F. H. G. GRASSMAN. With three
Copperplates. Second edition. Berlin, 1834 : by G. Reimer.

This is a desirable treatise " upon the natural treatment of instruction in
language in the people's schools ; and upon its connection with the other
-subjects of instruction in these schools." We point out the chief thoughts
»R far as they touch upon our subject.

204 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

Reading is not to be the first or beginning of instruction in tin- schooL
The objection to this beginning is based upon the aversion which children
have to learning their letters. Nature has decreed that in the first year*
of life the child shall receive and picture to himself the outer sense-world,
and that the inner spiritual life shall be awakened by occupation with sen-
suous things, till the time comes when this inner spiritual life and impulse
shall be itself the object of contemplation. This development by means of
the outward world has not ended when the child enters the school.

The inner world of representation needs an outer world in which it may
embody itself — language or speech. The representation pictures itself
outwardly by means of the word, and thereby becomes a communicable
representation, and this representation first attains thereby its definite,
perfected existence. By means of language, the child arrives at the intel-
ligent recognition of the objects around him and of their relations to each
other.

Writing is a picture of speech, and by this (indirectly) a picture of the
inner representative world of man.* So as man is to learn to know the pro-
totype earlier than the image, especially if there does not exist between
the two a natural and necessary, but an arbitrary connection (our letters
are to be looked upon as signs arbitrarily chosen), the child must first
learn to speak before it learns to read. If we connect this with what has
gone before, it follows that :

The first instruction in language must consist of conversations which
make the children acquainted with the things of the outward world, their
properties and mutual relations, and give them the opportunity to learn to
speak of them correctly, intelligently, and significantly.

These exercises in thinking and speaking are to be the common trunk
from which all oth^r objects of instruction are to branch out as twigs. In
regard to the material, it must contain the elements of all the single objects
of the instruction ; in regard to form, it must be so arranged, as far as pos-
sible, that the children shall learn not merely parts of speech, but all kinds
of words, and these in their various forms, inflections, derivations, and
combinations, and in an easy way. The language itself must not be an
object of contemplation, but a collection of words must be made, out of
which in future the general rules and laws of the language can be developed.

In the arrangement of the material, the progress must be in regular
steps from the nearer to the more distant ; from the known to the less
known, and from this to the quite unknown ; from that which falls directly
upon the senses to that which is first found by the help of the accompany-
ing activity of the understanding.

If the instruction in reading and writing goes side by side with this from
the first entrance of the children into the school, one hour a day, or from
three to four hours a week, should be devoted to this object-instruction.
CONTENTS : 1. Names of things ; 2. Whole, and parts of the whole ; 3.
Number of things ; 4. Place, position, attitude ; 5. Light, color ; 6. Form ;
7. Size; 8. Direction; 9. Sound; 10. Perceptions by feeling, smell, and
taste; 11. Rest and motion ; 12. Connection of things ; 13. Time.

The whole is brought out partly in a catechetical way. partly by prin-

OIMKCT TEACHING. BUSSE. 205

ciples, which are to be discovered by the developing conversation. This is
a model work and a master-work, — actual head-work, the most advanced
course of teaching-exercises in observation and experience to be found in
our literature (of the present time). No teacher should be without it.

But whether the whole can be carried out in the elementary school, as
the majority of these schools now are, we doubt ; indeed, our verdict is
against it. There must be rarely favorable circumstances secured, if a
teacher, as the Professor hopes, shall be able to carry the child through
this course by the end of the ninth year of his age. We must apply the
wise view which the author makes apparent for the carrying out of his
opinion upon instruction in language, and also upon these exercises in
speaking and thinking. He says : " Many weighty and well-founded recol-
lections and doubts recur to the mind, which, in view of the reality of exist-
ing relations of life, and of prevailing and dominant customs, opinions, and
judgments of the present generation, may easily be advanced, and are well
known to every practical schoolman. No one can feel it more keenly than
I do, or know it better than I do ; as it is on account of the well-founded
existence of such recollections of long standing that I require, before the
introduction of this plan, the condition that it shall be freed from all the
limitations which arise out of the present condition of things."

But with full conviction we agree with the following opinions :

" In view of the plan which we introduce, it is of the highest importance
that we carry in our souls an ideal of every occupation which one has to
execute, of every office which is to be filled, how it should be done, and
how it would be done, if every hindrance and disturbance were out of the
way, and if every power which is brought into play worked as perfectly as it
can by virtue of its nature. To let such an ideal enter wholly into life as its
guide, rarely ever happens, since the reality of life meets it at every step and
on every side, limiting and destroying its influence ; yet the strivings of
those who wish to better things must have their roots in the ideal, and
must find in it the goal of their activity. For whoever carries it within
his breast, and seeks to approach it more and more, as far as circumstances
and relations permit him to do so, takes care so to arrange and form every
individual influence that it may correspond to the image before him, and
thus prepare for the future presentation of the whole, and he seizes every
opportunity to form in others the correct view of this subject. He thus
brings insight and skill into all his acts, while he who has not such a goal
before his eyes cannot, with all his best efforts, and the most indefatigable
industry, demand the best thing of himself, and often loses it."

This course of instruction is to be contemplated as such an ideal for the
elementary schools in general. Would that the teachers might comprehend
it in its essence, and approach it in fact and truth ! The most earnest study
of this work is just what is needed for the elementary method.

But for those teachers who are obliged to limit themselves to a less
thorough course of thinking and speaking exercises, we recommend the
following works (certainly with a few exceptions) of Fuhr & Ortmann. On
account of the necessary attention to the existing state of things every-
where, with rare exceptions, we have placed the aim and the standard of

206 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

these exercises lower, in order that the attempts made to realize them shall
be really successful.

3. Instruction in the Little Children's School ; or, the Beginning of In-
struction and Formation in the People's Schools. Fourth improved edi-
tion. Bielefeld, 1845. Published by Belhagen & Klasing.

This pamphlet proposes a course of instruction : (1) which is throughout
practical and easily applied ; (2) which chooses its material out of the imme-
diate surroundings of the school-children, and avoids all costly and foreign
apparatus ; (3) it is worked out with the utmost clearness and perspicacity,
so that it will easily enable every teacher to introduce the exercises in ob-
servation and speaking into the school.

Contents of the First Section. Knowledge of Objects in the School-Room.
— 1st Exercise : Naming and describing these objects. 2d Ex. : Compar-
ison and discrimination. 3d Ex. : Contemplation of definite bodies.

Second Section. First Elements of Natural History and Domestic Econ-
omy. — 1st Ex. : The human body. 2d Ex. : The plants of the home gar-
den. 3d Ex. : Domestic animals. 4th Ex. : The house. 5th Ex. : The-
dwelling. 6th Ex. : The elements.

Third Section. Preliminary Exercise in Drawing and Writing.

Fourth Section. Instruction in Reading.

Fifth Section. Beginning of Arithmetic.

Sixth Section. Beginning of Instruction in Singing.

Seventh Section. Exercises in Memory or Tunes for Head and Heart.

Eighth Section. Furthering Instruction, and School Aims in general.

The individual exercises are offered not in the catechetical, but in a more-
familiar form ; methodical remarks, hints, and views are given in them.

In consonance with the above-mentioned didactic rules, the objects are
not to be treated according to the common conceptions of size, form, color,
number, &c., but every subject according to its own peculiarities, or elemen-
tarily, or, as Herr Griibe says, organically. (See Griibe's Inst. in Arith.)

4. Methodical Guide for Exercises in the Cultivation of Language in the
Lower Class of the Elementary School. By C. G. EHRLICH, Director of
the Seminary of Soest, in Nassau. Second improved edition, 1839. Fr.
Heischer, in Leipzig.

The author shares with others the view that reflection and the art of
speaking must be awakened and stimulated specially in the lower class of
the elementary school, since the neglect of a deep, firm foundation for it
during the whole school season, can never be made good afterwards ; but
he differs from other writers and teachers upon the subject ia thinking that
the exercises in speaking should be exercises in the language itself. Authors
before mentioned give precedence to exercises in speaking, observation,
and thinking, and postpone those in language, but employ the thinking and
speaking powers upon the materials of the surrounding world. Herr
Ehrlich also agrees in this when he adds his exercises upon the immediate
experiences and observations of the child ; but he takes into consideration.
in this the knowledge of language, in what way will become clear when we

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 207

point out the chief contents of his treatise, and sketch the characteristic
signs of this treatment of the material. The book is divided into twf
parts, the theoretical and practical.

First Part. Aim and requisitions of the exercises in language in tht-
lower class..

Second Part. Examples :

(1) The elementary school is to rise up from below.

(2) Exercises in language the special means.

(3) Extent of the same.

(4) Comparison between the conversation of the mother and the teacher.

(5) Chief requisites of such exercises : a, Course of teaching, and of
some material ; 6, Preface to the conversation ; c, General choice of the
material ; d, Language of the teacher ; e, Superintendence of the conversa-
tion ; y, Means of exciting emulation ; g, Outward arrangements.

The knowledge of the forms of speech (in a practical way) in which it i«-
brought to the consciousness of the children, leads the author into the
consideration of the contents and order.

He gives his view in the following precepts, which are worth considering :

First. " If you lead the child to thoughtful seeing, you do much more for
him than if you bring him forward in reading and writing. His reading
and writing without thinking are worthless. Men make the least use of
these arts " (is it not so ?) " but a really seeing eye, a really hearing ear,
and a thinking mind, every one needs every moment of his life." (Does it
injure thousands, nay, millions of men to read?) " 1. Because they do not
use this art very generally in life, or they unlearn it again even when they
have once learned it in the regular way. 2. Because the books which are
put into their hands contain much that is useless, much that is untrue, dis-
torted ; obsolete views, superstitious opinions, &c. Hence there are re-
gions in Germany where learning to read is of questionable advantage ; for
it may be used for the planting and sustaining of superstition and similar
perverseness." (Why not also for the destruction of the same ; and why
does Catholicism strive against the common-school law?) "For it is not by
reading that man cultivates himself. It depends upon what he reads,
and his capability of reading with understanding."

Second. " The effect upon the cultivation of the mind of learning to speak
is very clear, for the following reasons : By knowing the names of things,
and of their properties, the attention is often for the first time drawn to the
things themselves. In the same manner, also 'by the varieties of the names
to the varieties of the things ; for instance, the different kinds of the color
of green — grass-green, mountain-green, apple-green, finch-green, bottle-
green, bronze-green, sea-green, &c. Also, by means of language our atten-
tion is drawn in early childhood from lower to higher conceptions, (for
instance, ' The goose is a bird.') By naming these, we hold firmly in the
mind representations and conceptions of things, and learn to think in lan-
guage."

Second Part. This portion of the book is the most important, viz. : The
Examples. (1) Conversations with children from six to seven years of

208 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

age : two conversations with new-comers ; the surroundings in the schooi-
room ; handwork ; the kitchen ; domestic animals ; words of endearment
(diminutives) ; abstract conceptions ; single verbs.

(2) Conversations with the whole lower class, or with children from
seven to ten years. Preparation of the teacher for exercises in speaking.

These conversations are rich in instruction : 1. Because they are so com-
municated, not as if they were written out before the hour, but as if they
were really held in the school of the seminary by the author. 2. Because
they are to be looked upon as a model in a wide sense of the word (not
like the asses-bridge, to be used slavishly). Herr Ehrlich is a master in
conversation with children. Therefore this book is a gift to be thankful
for. Having proceeded from the very soil of the school, in the strongest
sense of the word, the teacher can learn from it how to make living and in-
structive conversation with children, since an old master has done it before
him. Remarks which join the single examples unite the second part of
the book with the first, and the results following each talk given in a
review show what should be reached in the single talks.

The author believes, as we do, in the use of signs. A wave of the right
hand means that all the scholars shall speak ; a circular motion with the
left hand (a zero) a full answer. To wink means repeat the whole. We
hope the reader will not consider these as puerilities.

We are sorry that want of space forbids us laying before the reader
one of these instructive conversations, with all its outward and inward in-
trospections ; but we recommend this thoroughly practical treatise.

6. Ouide to the Principles of Education and Instruction. By DENZEL.
Third Part, First Division, First Course : Object-Teaching for Children
from 6 to 8 Years of Age. Stuttgart: Mezler, 1828. Third edition.

The distinguishing or discriminating character of this course consists in
the author's connecting the religious with the material and formal points
of view, that is, the exercises in observation or introspection have the dis-
tinct aim of undertaking to develop the religious consciousness. The
author's caution and circumspection are well known.

6. SCHLOTTERBECK : Theoretical and Practical Handbook for the Instruc-
tion of the First School Year. For Teachers and Female Educators just
beginning. 1. Domestic Science in the First School Year. 2. First In-
struction in Language, Reading and Writing. 3. Exercises for the
Cultivation of the Senses. — Wismar, Rostock, and Ludwigsluft. Pub-
lication house of the Hinstorff bookstore. 1868.

We have here a work of great industry, arising out of a deep interest in
the cause. Just on account of its one-sidedness, it has an effect upon the
present time. It follows Schlotterbeck in recommending " gymnastics of
the senses " for the people's school, and at the end the " introduction of
Froebel's kindergarten into the elementary classes." The views taken from
Schlotterbeck are the following :

1. The chief aim of object-teaching is the cultivation of the senses and
of formal nature.

" What object-teaching has hitherto striven for is not to be reached by

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 209

the means of the exercises proposed. It is only exercises of the senses,
-which are designed to give them a greater perfection for the correct com-
prehension of the outward world, and to assist the mind of the child in its
development through its perceptions.

"The cultivation of the senses is to strengthen and support the whole
instruction by giving efficiency to the organs of observation, and by the
reception of new observations in the child's mind."

2. Object-teaching must move in the field of the world of the senses,
and adjust it.

3. For this aim the objects must be brought to the children's view in their
naked reality, and be treated objectively throughout.

4. The representation of the object observed must also have its rights
It gives the best proof of the correctness of the comprehension of it.

5. What has been observed can be represented by language.

6. What has been observed can also be represented in a plastic form.

7. By the cultivation of the organs of the senses, and by the plastic rep-
resentation of the object, more is done for widening the child's circle of
representation than by the most searching exercises.

8. Therefore, we desire to have cultivation of the senses in the school,
and for the elementary class in especial, first, a yearly course of from four
to five hours a week, which we designate by the once common name of object-
teaching. After that time let it cease, not because the cultivation of the
senses is then looked upon as perfected, but because it can be carried on
at home, and the further instruction in the school must undertake wider
culture.

9. Object-teaching does not exclude exercises in language ; but these
must not be the chief aim.

10. Object-teaching need not be looked upon as the foundation of in-
struction in physics.

11. Religious knowledge, so far as it allows itself to be mediated by ob-
servation, does not belong to the domain of object-teaching. Object-teach-
ing must be allowed to take the precedence of the religious element as
little as of the instruction in language or natural science. It must move
according to its nature on the domain of the sense-world, and fails wholly
in its aim if the religious element is not the chief object.

12. Object-teaching must not aim at clothing the material in a poetic
form. " This would stand in direct opposition to its aim. By object-teach-
ing the comprehension of the world of sense is indirectly imparted, the
correct relation between cause and effect, foundation and superstructure,
life and death, is established, therefore the objects must be brought before
the child in their naked reality, and be treated objectively by the teacher
throughout. The living sense of the child will lay in poetry of itself, and
abundantly enough where the ripened understanding sees only dead and cold
material. Real poetry lies in nature itself, and is therefore given out by it
at the same time wiih the objective comprehension."

The course of teaching planned on the above principles is divided into
three sections :

1. Cultivation of the eye by the color, form and position, size and dis-
tance, of bodies.

210 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

2. Cultivation of the ear by exercises in time and hearing.

3. Cultivation of feeling by direct exercises in the cultivation of the
senses of touch and taste ; and by exercises for attaining a greater security
and solidity of the body, namely, by strengthening the limbs.

This treatise is in quite the spirit of Froebel. The author plans the
exercises which Froebel had chiefly intended for the kindergarten for the
first school-year of the elementary class. They are as excellent for the kin-
dergarten, where they have proved themselves so well adapted for the cul-
tivation of the senses and the development of the mind, as they are out
of place in the school. Here the ground-principle must be firmly estab-
lished ; the culture of the senses must be aimed at with suitable material*
To aim at merely formal culture lies outside of it. What cultivation of the
uenses is to be reached in the school must come out of the contemplation of
the objects of the object-teaching, primarily out of the contemplation of nat-
ural bodies. From them the child learns their " colors, forms, and varie-
ties," and every intelligent teacher goes back from this to ground colors and
ground forms. By the " quantities n the instruction in arithmetic makes-
known the theory of forms and the instruction in drawing. For " cultiva-
tion of the eye " the instruction is given by writing, drawing, scientific, geo-
graphical, and mathematical observation; for "cultivation of the ear," in-
struction in speaking, reading, and singing ; for " cultivation of the hand,'*
writing, drawing, and handwork. Hence it happens that a great part of
these exercises in our full school classes are not practicable, as, for exam-
ple, the coloring of pictures, the cutting of paper, the building with cubes,
the plaiting with strips of paper, the folding of paper, the pricking of fig-
ures, the clay work, whittling of wood, the observation of forms of things
at different distances and in different positions, &c. It is impossible for a
teacher to watch all these exercises, and prevent the dangerous use of col-
ors, scissors, knives, pricking-needles, &c.

Besides this, the author places little value upon the spoken statement, but
would use the exercises in language chiefly for the instruction in reading.
But if the object-teaching is to sharpen the senses, and thereby excite the
attention, it must also assist the development of language. Observation
enchains and quickens the thinking power, and brings the judgment to the
tongue, which fastens the same in a word. When the children have been-
accustomed by the object-teaching to see sharply and precisely the things
brought to their contemplation and description, and, where the opportunity
offers, also to hear distinctly and feel strikingly, the school certainly offers
all it can to satisfy just claims.

But the author is of the opinion that salvation lies only in Froebel, whose-
play-school must go into the people's school. We can look upon this only
as a pedagogic error. For the gymnastics of the senses, life must do the
best, not the school-room with its bare walls. Finally, why shall we not
use the tongue and the nose as chemistry does ? At the Vienna Exposition
we really saw a whole series of innocent, variously smelling, and tasting,
apparatus for object-teaching, designed for the elementary school.

We cannot recommend the work for the object-teaching we defend, how-
ever dear it may be to FroebePs scholars, who will find much in it that i*
stimulating.

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 211

7. Theoretical and Practical Handbook for Object-teaching, with particu-
lar reference to Elementary Instruction in Physics. Frederick Harder
Altona, 1867. Four editions.

•

A book of such significant compass, which has lived through four edi-
tions in twelve years, must have some value. This value lies in the correct
and practical observations from which the author proceeds, and which he
develops into a guide systematically executed, as well as rich and various
in the material offered for the instruction.

He gives the key to his work in the title. He is of the opinion that
object-teaching, whose centre must be sought in physics, is not to be fin-
ished in the elementary class, and on that account adds : 1. A course which
shall give, after object-instruction proper, a second course, also designed for
the underpinning, which works out the elements of physics with the scholars
who have been mentally strengthened by object-teaching (in the space of
another half-year). •

This course of instruction is essentially the well-known one. The author
begins with the first conversation of the teacher with the fresh elementary
scholars, then passes into the school with its contents, speaks of the same
to the whole and to individuals, introduces comparisons of things in the.
school-room, passes to the people in the school, then considers the school--
house and teachers' dwelling-house, the occupants of the parental house, the-
dwelling-place, buildings, squares, streets, inhabitants. The sections, which ^
make the specialty of the work, treat very practically of men, animals, and
the plant world, and contain a preparation of instruction in geography and
natural science. The work recommends itself by specially rich and richly-
suggestive material, arranged in suitable sequence on methodical principles.
The author is of the opinion that this instruction stands independently
and is to be stretched over the whole school life.

8. Principles and Course of Teaching for Instruction in Speaking and
Heading. AUGUST LUBEN, Germany, Director in Bremen. Third im-
proved edition. Leipzig, 1868.

Liiben's writings should be intelligently studied by every elementary
teacher.

The practice of the author to connect object-teaching with reading and
writing is well known. Richter has energetically protested against this
union, and we indorse the protest, while we think that the exercises in
speaking, known to all, and which smooth the path to the sounding of thf»
letters (lautiren), do not take the place of the object-teaching proper. Al-
though the author does not consider merely the exercises in speaking, but
also those in language, yet the object-teaching, which has its own aims and
course, is not justly estimated.

The aim of object-teaching Liiben also discusses briefly :

1. To practise the child in correct seeing and contemplation.

2. To enrich the powers of his understanding with worthy representation^

3. To cultivate his judgment.

4. To increase his readiness in language.

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

Many good things are given in the examples, and the little treatise,
which, on account of its authorship, is an authority in the domain of instruc-
tion in the mother-tongue, is worth reading.

9. Object -teach ing in the Elementary Schools. Represented according to
its Aims, its Place, and its Means. By CARL RICHTEE. Crowned prize-
work. Leipzig, 1869.

This treatise is a rich accession to the literature upon object-teaching.
In a theoretic point of view it is the best work which exists upon that sub-
ject. By the ideal which Richter would realize in object-teaching, he will
gain many opponents without injury to the various opinions in practice.
The work should be known to every elementary teacher, although it is only
theoretical. Cultivation of the senses is one chief thing with the author.
Schlotterbeck seems to have excited him much. It is now generally the
laudable endeavor to enlarge the material of observation for the elementary
classes as far as it is practicable, although on the other side the limit can
easily be passed which protects it from extravagance.

The rich contents of the book consist of a guide, three sections, and a
review. The guide contains historical matter upon object-teaching, concep-
tion of essence of observation, relation of observation to language, and
importance of observation to the mental life.

1. The first section speaks of the task of object-teaching, and paragraphs
have the following titles : Condition of the Child's Mind before the School
Age ; the School and its First Task ; Cultivation of Observation in Gen-
eral; Scientific (real) Culture ; Cultivation of the Senses; Cultivation of
Language ; Moral and Religious Culture ; Choice and Arrangements of the
Objects for Object-teaching.

2. The second section treats of the place of object-teaching, and is di-
vided into four paragraphs : Rejection of Object-teaching ; Isolated Place
of Object-teaching ; Connection of Object-teaching with Reading and Writ-
ing ; the Vogel-Method.

3. The third section speaks of the means of object-teaching, and treats
of the position of Objects of Instruction in Nature, Models and Pictures,
Drawing and Measuring.

This work contains no finished programme of object-teaching, but is a
•work upon that subject which cannot be read without lively interest, and
•which treats with extraordinary clearness the question of object-teaching,
its place in other courses, and the means requisite for carrying it out
It will be of lasting use, and is urgently recommended.

10. Object-teaching. Its History, its Place in the Elementary School, and
its Methodical Treatment. By W. AEMSTROFF. Langensalza, 1869.

This is also a theoretical treatise of the same general character with that
of Richter, but not so exhaustive. It recommends itself to the teacher by its
simplicity and clearness. Object-teaching is, with this author, that instruction
of the elementary classes in which single things are taken from the nearest sur-
roundings of the pupils, observed by the senses, described, and thus brought
to their comprehension. It must not be confounded with " instruction by

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 213

observation." And it must not be considered identical with exercises m
thinking and speaking, with domestic economy, cosmology, and useful com-
mon knowledge. All these subjects are kindred, but not in congruity.

In his statement of the historical development of this instruction upon
topics, the author goes back to Luther's and Melancthon's efforts, and draws
treasures from the labors —

1. Of Bacon: "Everything depends upon our never turning the eyes of
the mind from things themselves and their images just as they are absorbed
into us."

2. Of Comenius : " The first connection of the thing with the knowl-
edge of language."

3. Of the Philanthropist : " The culture of the understanding must pro-
ceed from actual inspection ; Physics (ftealieri) must be the chief objects of
fundamental teaching."

4. From Pestalozzi : " Observation is the foundation of all knowledge."
After discussing these historical points, treatises which exclusively pursue

the formal aim of development, for which the material need not be too vari-
ous, he goes on to the exercises in understanding and thinking of Zerrener,
Erause, Grassman, and finishes with Graser, Diesterweg, Wurst, Scholz,
and Hariisch, who combated the connection between the formal and scien-
tific principle.

The mission of object-teaching is fully shown by the psychological devel-
opment. It is designed to raise the observations and representations al-
ready in hand with the children into clearness, order, and consciousness, so
as to help the pupils to a wealth of intuitions at the same time that they
are using their senses j to excite their self-activity, and accustom them to a
habit of attention ; and out of the intuitions gained to develop conceptions,
judgments, &c., and thereby to sharpen the understanding, put them in
possession of book language, cultivate their sensibilities, and prepare them
for instruction in science (real). As means of object-teaching the author
designates, chiefly, nature, man, God. He urges original, direct observa-
tion, and only where the means for this are not present, or in natura, does
he recommend pictures.

The treatise answers the following questions :

1. Where is the origin of object-teaching to be sought, and how has it
developed itself in the course of time ?

2. Wherein consists the problem of object- teaching?

3. What place in instruction shall it take ?

4. By what means are the aims which it pursues to be reached P
While Richter makes object-teaching the all-ruling centre in the pro-
gramme, Armstroff confines himself to Liiben's point of view, with whom
object-teaching, reading, and writing, are to be united into one whole.
Armstrongs work is worth reading next to Richter's.

11. Theoretico-pradical Guide to Object-teaching for Elementary Teachers
and Parents. By CARL DAMBECK, School Director. Hamburg, 1869.

A parallel treatise with Richter's, but very valuable practically.

It is divided into two parts, a theoretic, and a practical part. In the

214 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

theoretic part the author speaks of the aim, the method, the teacher, and
the apparatus for object-teaching, which is with him the fundamental and
preparatory instruction for the other branches.

The practical part treats of the collection, grouping, and distribution cf the
material. The author closes with a sketch of a methodical course of object-
teaching for two years.

The first course for children from six to eight years of age groups the
material for the four years which are to be used as designated.

The second course arranges the material for children between eight and
nine, according to psychological development and the branches of instruc-
tion; it also serves as preparation for instruction in language, for mathe-
matics, the natural sciences, geography, history, religion, with much refer-
ence to the capability of the children. It is hence made a material which
for the greater part can be used in the middle course.

In conclusion, the author enumerates the material of the instruction
which is necessary for the success of this department ; namely, models,
mathematical bodies, a collection of the most important coins, the measures
and weights of the country, minerals, fresh or dried plants, the fruits and
seeds of the most important plants, animals either stuffed or preserved in
spirits, products of industry, large single pictures, black or colored, a col-
lection of the leaves and twigs of the most important plants. The author
assigns an independent place for the object-teaching, and lets reading and
writing follow next. In his limitation of the subject he agrees with Richtcr
and Armstroff ; with them he assigns the place for it in the two or three
first school years.

We cannot deny that the work has proceeded from a vital interest as well
for the subject as for childhood, and also shows long practice. It is original
in spite of the fact that the idea of spreading the use of the material over all
the years given to instruction, and of holding the child in living connection
with nature all that time, is not in itself new. The little work is cordially
recommended.

12. Object-teaching for the Lower and Middle Classes of the People's
School. By GEORGE Luz. Also Teaching and Heading Material for Ob-
ject-teaching in the Lower and Middle Classes. Wieseusteig, 1871.

The first part of the book discusses the theory of object-teaching. In
twelve sections the author treats the following rich contents :

1. The origin of object-teaching, and its introduction into the people's
school.

2. Object-teaching as the first and preparatory instruction.

3. Conception of object-teaching.

4. Aims of object-teaching.

5. Forms of object-teaching.

•6. Opponents of object-teaching.

7. The working of independent object- teaching.

8. The annexation of object-teaching to the reading-book.

9. Characteristics of different readers for the middle class.
10. Review of the programme of instruction of the author.

OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE. 215

11. Treatment of object-teaching.

12. Some examples of conversation.

The second part is to be the reader for the use of pupils.

The work is by a pupil of Denzel, but is distinguished by its extraordi-
nary simplicity from the one to be noticed next, by Wrage. Not merely skill
in the catechetical treatment of material constitutes the good teacher (and
from pages 82 to 90 we find masterly conversations), but also his command
of the material. But only he has command over his material who under-
stands how to select it in reference to the nature of childhood ; and from
this author \ve learn to know his conceptions of a teacher, and a bettei
could not be wished for; " the enemy of all shams, allflunkery ; thefriena,
of simplicity, of sound discretion — in shorty one who really knows ihr
nature of childhood."

Of this loving absorption into the nature of childhood, the material for
reading and the inculcation of principles in the infant is eloquent testimony.
It is a preparatory book for the teacher in behalf of object-teaching, and a
copious reader for the lower classes. The problem of how object-teaching
can stand in the closest connection with the reader, and yet be indepen-
dently progressive, is here solved in the happiest manner. What the teacher
has hitherto observed and described, the children read after him, and thus
reach two things : progress in understanding what they read, reading ar»<*
repeating with feeling, and comprehension of what they have heard.

13. Object-teaching in the People's School ; or, Observing, TJiinkina, Speak-
ing, and Writing, as the Foundation for Physical Studies, for Style, and
Grammar. By J. H. FUIIR and J. H. ORTMANN. In four double sheets.
Four sheets of Object-teaching, interspersed with Sentences, Fables,
and Stories, in Prose and Poetry, arranged according to the Four Sea-
sons. Bound in with the Object-teaching, four sheets of Exercises, in all
Styles, for all Classes, after the Preparatory Class in Grammar. Second
enlarged and improved Edition. Dillenburg, 1873.

According to this author, observation is the element and foundation of
all knowledge ; and object-teaching, pursued according to its aim, is the
only instruction that can be materially and formally truly preparatory and
fundamental for the collected instruction of the people's schools, which can
rest only upon the firm ground of observation. Object-teaching must strive
for correct observation and attention, clear conceptions, correct expression
of thoughts, acquisition of useful knowledge of practical things, and cul-
tivation of feeling. A full supply of poetic material serves for the latter
purpose and point of connection.

Contents : In twenty conversations are, first, preparatory exercises offered
to the teacher, which aim at exciting the feelings of the child, so that it
may be confiding and animated. Then the children are led on according
to the principle, from the near to the remote, by the following circles of ob-
servation : School, house and yard, garden, meadow, field and wood. In
order to give the best possible intuitive foundation for physical science,
the animals in the family and yard are described, so that they are under-
stood to be representatives, or types of the one, two and four-hoofed

216 OBJECT TEACHING. BUSSE.

animals, the beasts of prey, the insect-eaters, the rodents, the fowls, doves,
swimming-birds, swamp-birds, singing-birds, and birds of prey. Then
follows the contemplation of trees, shrubs, and herbs.

The second part may be regarded as a complete course of natural his-
tory, and used with much benefit.

The third sheet is peculiarly of Object-teaching. The second part of
this treats of the premonitions of Spring in the plant world. Walk in
the garden, and naming of the things fcund in it. Plants; growth; (as
specialties, the snowdrops, the garden violets, daisies.) Then follows a
premonition of Spring in the animal world (field-larks, stork, cuckoo, the
white wagtail). Then the Spring itself ; (the usher of Spring is the com-
mon primrose.) At last, the fruit-garden (gooseberries, currant-bushes,
cherry-trees, and damson-trees). In every lesson, the cultivation of the
senses, of language, and of feeling is aimed at By interspersed speeches^
sentences, riddles, fables, tales, in prose and verse, the instruction con-
tains the right nourishment for the understanding, the heart, and the life.
A little volume is soon to follow this part, which will contain the rest of the
material, so far as concerns the domain of natural history and physics,
(mineralogy, domestic economy, and natural science.) The catechetical
treatment of many of the lessons, lend, by their numerous suggestions, a
peculiar value to the whole work. As to the rest, the author is of the
opinion that the material offered in the school should not be used in a
slavish manner, as it lies before the view. These materials offer much for
the teacher, because they will excite him to studies and contemplations in
Nature herself.

Of the first three parts of this splendid work, only the two first lie
before us upon object-teaching, and the first of the exercises in style ; a
definite judgment of it is, therefore, not yet possible. The splendid fullness
of the useful material surprises the reader, and he feels delighted with per-
ceiving that he has to do with two teachers, who give nothing but what
they have proved by long practice. Every lesson seems to be given as if
the talk had been held in the class. The arrangement of the exercise*
in style are appropriate, so far as we have been able to look them over.

If we dared to make one criticism (snap our fingers at the authors), it
would be this : It seems as if by the parallel contents of the exercises in
observation and style, a certain monotony would be unavoidable in the
later propositions. The pupil will rarely go farther in this field than ta
descriptions and stories. Pictures overtax his powers. The real mine
from whence he will draw his compositions, outside of the nature that
forms his surroundings, is human life, fable, parable, proverbs, universal
history, and, above all, literature, with its incomparable riches. But we
trust to the pedagogic skill of the authors, that they will avoid monotony,
and that they will draw from their excellent material with proper judgment.

The whole work is so important, by the wealth of its contents and the
abundance of its methodical directions, that every teacher ought to be
acquainted with it. We are still so poor in proper apparatus for object-
teaching, that we are glad to mention a book that has already found a place
for itself in the world's literature.

CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

PRACTICAL COURSE OF ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN LANGUAGE,
MENTAL DEVELOPMENT.

CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS — commencing with the earliest indi
cations of the infant faculties, and proportioned to the progressive
development of reason which varies in different individuals, will be
found not only to be an excellent substitute for the irksome and me-
chanical processes of almost all our elementary schools, but the best
vehicle of diversified knowledge and the ground-work of mental dis-
cipline, while it is introducing children to a practical acquaintance
with their native tongue. We shall adopt in the discussion of this
subject a chapter from C. Marcel's admirable treatise on Language.*

Although the order in which the various conversations on objects
have been introduced may be modified according to circumstances, it
must not be regarded as altogether a matter of indifference ; for we
have endeavored to conform to that which nature follows in gradually
inuring the mind to habits of investigation. She imperatively en-
joins that the first efforts of the child should be directed to the im-
provement of those powers by which he may form clear and correct
notions of things. He should therefore be made to pass progres-
sively through the exercises in perception, observation, reflection, and
reasoning.

Another rule which should be strictly adhered to is, that, whenever
a topic, an exercise, or a branch of information, acknowledged to- be
useful, has been entered upon, it should be occasionally repeated,
until the children have a clear insight into the subject brought before
them, or until the object proposed from it has been attained. It
should also be borne in mind that the following course, although in-
tended as a preparation for the scholastic instruction of boys, is
equally suitable to girls ; for, until the age of twelve, the intellectual
education should be the same.

SECT. I. EXERCISES IN PERCEPTION.

1 . Names of objects, their Par/*, Matter, and Color.
From the moment that a child articulates distinctly, various famil-

* "Language as a Means of Mental Culture.1'— London. 2 vols.

21S CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

iar objects should be offered to his notio-, and their use explained;
their names being, at the same time, clearly uttnvd for him, he
should be made to repeat them slowly and aloud. But he mu*t not
be forced into premature efforts to speak, lest be should acquire habits
of indistinct and defective utterance. Premature walking is not more
injurious to the organs of motion than is premature speaking to the
vocal organs. In order also to guard against fatiguing him by a dry
repetition of words, the instructor should enliven the exercise by mak-
ing, in plain language and in a playful manner, some simple ol
tions on the nature and use of the things which he is called upon to
name.

This exercise should, at first, be limited to a few objects at one
time, and the same things should be repeatedly presented to him as-
Hn-iated with tlu-ir names, until he perfectly knows these names. His
vocabulary should be gradually extended by the introduction of new
ol>j ets which he is made to observe and name, such as articles of
dress, food, furniture, every tiling which he can hold in his hand, or
which may be seen either from the window or out of doors. This
mode of proceeding will soon put a young child in possession of a
considerable number of useful nouns. It is a triple exercise in per-
ception, articulation, and memory, which must, from the variety of
objects and the movement required in passing from one to the other,
be more interesting to the child, as it certainly is more profitable at
this age, than the ordinary practices of conning for m..ntli> «,v.-r the
same six-and-twenty, to him, unmeaning letters, reading nonsensical
trash, or learning by rote the unconnected words of a spelling-book
or dictionary.

As the child's intellect opens and becomes capable of examining
objects minutely, of distinguishing their resemblances and differ-
ences, of noticing their parts, their matter, their color, their form, and
their number, his attention should be successively directed to all iii<-«-
points. Thus will his mind be early brought in contact with the ex-
ternal world, and be duly exercised by ascribing to every object of
aense its qualities and peculiar condition. He will also easily reiu« 111-
ber the words, when the ideas they signify are once clearly appre-
hended. A correct acquaintance with the meaning and application
of words must not be deemed a matter of little moment in the first
years of life. If we consider the disastrous results to which igno-
rant- on these points has led, and the inconvenience which often
arises to the best educated among us from this single source, we shall
find that time well employed, which is devoted to securing a knowl-
•edge of the meaning of words. This practical instruction may be

EXERCISES IN PERCEPTION. 219

commenced with the >.-c"inl period of youth — at the age of six. Curi-
<>Mtv and the perceptive powers being then in full activity, the child's
attention may be easily cultivated through them, and a spirit of ob-
s. r\,ition, analysis, and comparison, the foundation of a correct judg-
ment. \><- early fostered.

The first inquiry to be made in the examination of an object con-
sists in ascertaining the parts of which it is composed. These are
sumrtiin<-> BO minute that considerable attention is requisite to dis-
cern them all. So important is this inquiry, that an acquaintance,
for example, with all the parts of a plant, and with their forms and
colors, constitutes the knowledge of its botanic character, and involves
a considerable portion of the botanic technology. The child must be
shown how all the parts of an object are connected, how they har-
monize, and how far each is indispensable to the completion and
pleasing effect of the whole : thus will he be accustomed to discrimi-
nate what is principal from what is accessory, what is useful from
what is merely ornamental.

By attending to the matter of which the object and its parts are
composed, the child will learn how to distinguish animal, vegetable,
and minerable substances ; he will form clear ideas of what is natu-
ral and artificial, simple and compound, native and foreign, indigen-
ous and exotic.

The next consideration will be that of color : this beautiful prop-
erty of matter, diffused over all the works of nature and art, will, by
the infinite variety of its shades and combinations, offer to the visual
faculty an endless means of exercise. Accuracy of perception in
reference to it will prove useful for various branches of knowledge and
pursuits in life. A due attention to the diversity of colors, to the
proportion of parts, and to the gracefulness of forms, considered as
the elements of beauty, will sow the seeds of taste.

An acquaintance with colors can be very early imparted to a child.
To enable him the better to distinguish them and recollect their
names, the instructor should be provided with a tabular illustration
of their prismatic order ; he should, first, point out to him the primi-
tive colors, red, yellow, and blue, then the three intervening com-
pound colors, orange, green, and violet; and, afterwards, their various
shades, from the lightest to the deepest hue. Glasses of different
colors, placed by pairs one over the other, would afford him the
means of perceiving the effect of the mixture of colors. He may be
shown that white is the color of 'light, or the blending of the pris-
matic colors, and that black is the absence of them. As all imagin.
able shades of color can be produced by a diversified mixture of red,

220 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS

yellow, blue, white, and black, the child may be exercised in discov-
ering which of these elements prevails in any cor.ipound color piv-
sented to his sight.

2. Numbers; Ball-Frame.

The elements of arithmetic may enter as part of the exercises of
this early period: the practical nature of its first rules is well suited'
to the understanding of children. Relations of number and arith-
metical calculations are also, from their simplicity and mathematical
accuracy, admirably adapted to the training of the young mind to
habits of attention and reasoning. But, before a child is exercised
in mental calculation, which at this early period might overtask his
reflective powers, and before he is taught the numerical figures, which
are signs of abstract ideas, he should be accustomed to associate the
numerical adjectives with the names of objects which admit of com-
putation ; tor these adjectives, when used by themselves, being mere
attractions can not impart clear and correct notions of number. A
variety of similar tiling should be employed, particularly the current
coins of the country, counters, cards, inch square, or cubic blocks,
which, by gradual addition and subtraction of units and groups,
would teach the value and relation of numbers as also the fuuda-
in.-ntal rules of arithmetic; he should be taught to express in num-
bers the dimensions of objects by applying to them a unit of m« a-
ure, the inch or foot, as the case may require. When the child has
frequently associated real objects with the ideas of number, the nu-
iiifiiral nam> •> and figures will easily pass in his mind from the con-
crete to the abstract state.

The ball-frame, consisting of one hundred sliding balls on ten hori-
zontal parallel rods. may. in the hands of a skillful instructor, not
only assist in explaining the numeration, that is, the formation and
names of numbers, but also serve to leach how to solve readily the
elementary questions of addition and subtraction, multiplication and
division. If the balls be of two contrasting colors and strung alter-
nately, the eye will be pleased, attention captivated, and calculations
considerably facilitated. With this frame a child can himself dis-
«>\er the products of the multiplication of any two factors under ten;
he sees that these factors can be inverted, that multiplication is only
an abbreviated form of addition, and thereby clearly understands the
principles of this operation. The mental act, also, by which he fines
out these products will enable him to recollect them better than the
absurd mechanical parroting of the multiplication-table.

This frame is not a late invention, as may be seen in Friend's work
on Arithmetic, published fifty years ago ; it has been used for a long

EXERCISES IN PKIU EPT1ON 221

tiim- in the primary schools of France and (Jcnnany. It must not
l.c contounuVd with the abacus of the ancients, in which one line of
beads or balls was made to stand for units, the next for tens, another
for hundreds, and so on. But. although the abacus was originally
intended for casting up accounts, it might also prove useful in teach-
ing the first principles of arithmetic. The Russians and the Chinese
have, from time immemorial, performed calculations by means of such
frames ; but that of the latter, called shwan-pan, differs from the one
adverted to here by its having only five beads on each wire, the rela-
tivr values of which are distinguished by their size and color.

The one hundred ball-frame is preferable to that which is com-
posed of 144 balls, and is adopted in many infant schools in this
country, inasmuch as it answers all the purposes of calculation, and
besides clearly illustrates the principle of the decimal system, since
the relation of units to tens and hundreds is observable through all
combinations and computations. It is a matter of great importance
that a child should in his first conception of number perceive the
simple and beautiful arrangement by which a place is assigned to the
different powers of ten that compose any number. In fact, a knowl-
edge thus acquired of the composition of numbers leads to a rapid
understanding of the mode of representing them by numerical figures.
To effect this last object, pasteboard, wood, or brass figures would be
found more convenient and more interesting to a young child than
writing on paper or slate.

At a more advanced age, toward the end of the second period,
he should be exercised in mental calculation, passing very gradually
from simple to complex operations. This exercise, which admits of
endless variety, accomplishes several objects : it brings into action the
reflective and recollective powers ; it disciplines the understanding in
exact reasoning ; and gives habits of calculation, such as the daily
transactions of life require. But not only is arithmetical expertness
useful in the practical business of life, it is also indispensable as the
basis of all real progress in the mathematical and experimental sci-
ences, in which the learner has constant need of applying the rules
and performing the operations of arithmetic.

3. Fractional Numbers; Fractional Apparatus.

When a child has a clear idea of numeration and of the element-
ary rules in whole numbers, he may be initiated into the first notions
of fractional arithmetic. These notions, intricate as they are, when
taught abstractedly through the fractional notation, become extremely
simple and intelligible, even at a very tender age, when explained by

222 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

means of visible illustrations. The different objects which have been
mentioned for counting in whole Dnmben may equally serve for im-
parting to young people the first notions of fractions. A number of
such objects, being considered as a whole and variously divided into-
equal parts or fractional numbers, would, by the addition and subdi-
vision of these, illustrate the relative value and the elementary opera-
tions of simple fractions. This, however, may perhaps be still better
effected by the following contrivance : —

Let about 16 or 18 thin slips of wood or pasteboard, about half
an inch in breadth, be made all exactly the same length, say one foot.
(This length is convenient, and will, besides, accustom the eye of the
child to a useful measure.) Let them be divided by a line across the
breadth, the first into two equal portions, the second into three, the
the third into four, and so on up to the eleventh, which will be com-
posed of twelve equal parts ; a few other slips may be respectively
divided into 15, 18, 20, 24, 36, 48, 60, 72, and 84 equal parts*
which numbers are chosen on account of their having a great num-
ber of divisors. Let the lines indicating different subdivisions be of
different colors, and those indicating equal portions in the different
slips be of the same color — all the halves throughout being thus of
one color, all the thirds of another, and so on. Let also the denom-
inator, that is, the number of parts into which the foot-slips are
divided, be marked at one of the ends of each slip. These colored
lines and written denominators will greatly assist in distinguishing at
once the different fractions, reducing them to their lowest terms, and
finding out their common denominator.

The pupil with these slips placed side by side under his eye, should
be called upon to observe the various subdivisions of the foot which
are marked on them, and be told the names by which are denom-
inated the equal parts of each slip, halves, thirds, fourths or quarters^
<fec.; he may, from these, discover by analogy, the names of the
others. He should be made successively to notice that •£, f, f, &c.r
are equal to one another ; that -J, f , £, <fec., are the same ; that ^, is
greater than -J-, -J- greater than •£, <fec. ; that -f are less than •£-, f- less
than •£-. &c. ; that the fraction is greater in proportion as the numera-
tor is increased, or the denominator lessened, and vice versa. He
should add, subtract, find a common denominator, and reduce frac-
tions to their lowest terms. In short, he might, by means of this
simple apparatus, and, under the guidance of a judicious teacher,
gain a clear acquaintance with the denominations, nature, value, and
properties of common fractions, long before he could safely be intro-
duced to their numerical symbols and to their abstract forms.

EXERCISES IN PERCEPTION 223

4. Forms; Geometrical solids ; Architectural game.

In order promptly to familiarize the pupil with the most general
forms and the terms expressive of them, a collection of small geo-
metrical solids should he exhibited to him, such as spheres, cylinders,,
cones, prisms, pyramids, and the regular geometrical bodies in differ-
ent dimensions, as also a cone with its several sections. In minutely
examining each of these, his attention may easily be directed, by a
natural analysis, from the solids to the surfaces, triangles, quadrilat-
erals, and polygons ; from these to the angles, lines, and points. la
comparing them afterwards, he may find out himself their differ-
ences, and classify them ; and, iu stating the result of his examination,
he is led to the use and to the definition of the scientific terms which
designate them, and to the consideration of the first elements of
geometry.

By a reference to the geometrical solids a child may easily under-
stand what is meant by vertical and horizontal ; perpendicular and
oblique ; parallel and divergent, and convergent ; right, acute, and
obtuse angles ; circle, circumference, and diameter ; he may be shown
the principal properties of triangles, the mode of measuring and di-
viding angles, the relative length of circumference and diameter, and
may be taught by means of small square blocks or cubes, how to
measure rectangular superficies and solids.

If the child be made to sketch the outlines of these solids, it will
be a further preparation for his future study of that science ; for
these diagram sketches, within the power of a young child — and his
first step in the useful practice of drawing from nature, will direct
his attention more closely to the geometrical forms, will familiarize
him with the terms and graphic representations of them, and will
give him some practical notions of perspective. The precision and
accuracy of eye, gained, at the same time, by the habit of drawing,
would considerably assist him in clearly conceiving the forms, pro-
portions, and dimensions of objects. The facility and correctness,
also, with which he will execute these figures, if he has early prac-
ticed drawing, will, at a future period, render geometry much more
attractive; whilst the elements of this science will, in their turn, tend
to give a useful direction to linear drawing.

The practice of ascertaining the various parts, substances, colors,
and forms of objects, is an effectual preparation for the study of
the natural sciences ; it can not fail to impart accuracy and acute-
ness to the perceptive powers of young persons ; it will accus-
tom them to observe and analyze things minutely; while all the

224 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

terms relative to these different points will considerably extend their
vocabulary.

To those who advocate for children science in play, we will suggest
that the young mind may be effectually familiarized with forms and
proportions by means of an architectural game composed of brick-
shaped pieces, and others in imitation of those which enter into the
construction of buildings — blocks of different sizes (say, from one
inch to four inches in length, one inch in breadth, and half an inch
in thickness,) cubes, arches, columns, with detached bases, capitals,
and moldings, in different orders of architecture. These building
materials may be so contrived as to present, by their various combi-
nations, illustrations of geometrical propositions, and, by their super-
structure, edifices in different styles of architecture. They should
consist of close-grained wood, of two contrasting colors, so as to
jilmse the eye by their neatness and symmetrical arrangements; and
if they be made with mathematical accuracy, and on a scale founded
on the national measures, they will be easily raised in conformity to
any architectural design, while the eye will be early habituated to a
useful measure. The author, anxious to give his children the benefit
of such a game, has constructed one with box and Brazil wood
(white and red,) composed of about six hundred pieces of various
sizes and geometrical forms, on the above-mentioned scale of meas-
urement. It has been for his young family not only an exhaustless
source of pleasure and instruction, but an efficient means of forming
habits of patience and enticing them to efforts of invention.

SECT. 11. EXERCISES IN OBSERVATION.

1. Properties, Comparisons, and Classification of objects.
From the age of eight or nine, when the child's perceptive facul-
ties have been exercised on the most apparent properties of things,
and when he has learned to confine and prolong his attention, he
should be required to examine objects more minutely, to compare
them under different points of view, and to state in what particular
two or more resemble or differ. These exercises would prove highly
interesting to young people, who delight in discovering differences
between similar things, and resemblances between different things.
The judgment, according to Locke, is exercised by the first act, and
the imagination by the second: all the intellectual powers, in fact,
which have comparison for their basis, would be thus highly culti-
vated. He who is best able to compare will know best how to
analyze, to abstract, to generalize, to classify, to judge — in one word,
to reason.

EXERCISES IN OBSERVATION. 225

Various objects should be successively submitted to the organs of
sense, and the relations in which they stand to each other be duly
examined, in order that, by observation and comparison, their partic-
ular properties may be discovered, as well those which are relative
to our constitution as those which are inherent in the objects them-
selves. A true knowledge of things consists in a perfect acquaint-
ance with all their properties. When objects have been considered
in all their bearings, the child may be directed how to classify them
according to the similarity of their essential attributes. It is, in fact,
the relation of resemblance which, by the general notions and cor-
responding general terms that flow from it, becomes the source of
classification and definition, and of all that is valuable in language.

As the attributes inherent in matter may not all present themselves
to the mind of the teacher at the very moment when he wishes to
direct the attention of the pupil to them, tables containing in juxta-
position adjectives of opposite meanings would enable him to point
out all the properties the presence or absence of which can be ascer-
tained in objects.

Every new discovery which results from the investigation of ob-
jects exercises the understanding, leads to a knowledge of the true
essence of things, and stores the memory with adjectives and abstract
•nouns, the chief materials of descriptive and philosophical language.
A familiarity with such terras, by generating a habit of nice discrimin-
ation, and enriching the imagination with vivid conceptions of things,
constitutes the characteristic elements of eloquence. Uneducated
people are particularly deficient in these two species of words. The
child being also led to distinguish the properties which are natural or
artificial, essential or accidental, permanent or transient, absolute or
relative, and to discover those which belong to one object exclusively,
or are common to several, will find no difficulty in making classifica-
tions, or availing himself of those already existing, and of their cor-
responding nomenclatures. Classification is the indispensable com-
plement of observation.

As young persons collect facts, they must be frequently exercised
in classifying them with reference to their resemblance or difference.
If any number of objects is considered with regard to one or several
points of resemblance, the collection constitutes a class named genus ;
subdivisions of these into classes of objects having properties in com-
mon and distinct from the rest, form as many species ; finally, when,
on a closer examination, single objects are considered in reference to
properties which are peculiar to them, they are denominated indi-
viduals. The child must be shown that the terms genus and specie*

226 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

are relative : the same class which is a genus with reference to the
sub-classes, or species included in it, may be itself a species relatively
to a more extensive, or, as it is often called, a superior genus. Birdr
for example, a genus with regard to the different species eagle,
sparrow, <fec., is, in its turn, a species of the genus animal, which is
itself a species with respect to the superior genus organized being.
Filial love is a species of the genus affection ; affection, a species of
the genus goodness ; and goodness, a species of the genus inclination.
The distinction of generic and specific terms applies to a very exten-
sive range of mental conceptions.

The complex operation of classifying things according to their
points of resemblance, and of distinguishing them by their points of
dissimilarity, is one of the highest exercises of our reason and the
most admirable effect of analysis. It will develop in a child the
powers of observation, abstraction, and generalization, and will pre-
pare him for the study of the natural and experimental sciences, by
giving him habits of inductive reasoning — a principle on which these
sciences rest.

Nothing is more beneficial to the mind than the early habit of re-
ferring particular ideas to general principles, and classifying objects
and the notions acquired about them. The memory will best retain
the information intrusted to its keeping when arranged according to
some principle of generalization. Classification leads to the clear
conception and exact definition of terms ; because the names given
to our generalizations in order to classify things, are. connected in the
mind with the peculiarities that characterize these things : it becomes
the more useful as ideas accumulate on the mind ; for, in general,
confusion does not arise so much from the number of ideas, as from
the incapability of conceiving them clearly and arranging them in a
proper order. Classification is the ground-work of inductive philoso-
phy, and of all scientific investigations.

2. Incidental investigations about Objects.

The act of observing, which springs from the natural desire for
knowledge, reacts on that desire and stimulates it, when it has be-
come a habit : if, therefore, the child's powers of observation have-
been judiciously exercised, his inquisitiveness will increase with his
mental development. He may then gradually be brought to investi-
gate incidents connected with an object : among others, what are it*
different uses, the country whence it comes, the mode of production*
the process of fabrication, the instruments employed in making it,,
and the trades concurring to its completion.

EXERCISES IN OBSERVATION. 227

The different uses to which things are applied depending on the
properties which they possess, one of these considerations will easily
lead to the other. If, therefore, a child is acquainted with the use
of an object, he may be requested to infer what must be its proper
ties ; or these being known to him, his inventive power may be exer*
cised in finding how it can be rendered useful : thus is he led to the
investigation of causes and effects. At a more advanced age, he will
be aided in the search by visiting manufactories, or exercising his in-
genuity, as has been recommended, in working various substances ;
for the properties of matter are best ascertained by the modification
which it undergoes in the arts.

By frequently inquiring into the uses of things, a child forms the
valuable habit of estimating every thing according to its utility, and
of turning it to account. The inquiry into the mode of production
and fabrication will tend to cultivate in him a spirit of investigation
and invention, whilst the constant practice of ascertaining causes and
effects will foster dispositions most favorable for afterwards making
discoveries in the arts and investigating truths in the higher sciences..
Mere chance has less to do with the work of invention than is gen-
erally supposed : in most instances, the lucky accident which gave
birth to the discovery has but set in motion a certain train of thought
in an already prepared mind.

In speaking of the place where the manufactured article or the sub-
stances of which it is composed, are produced, the preceptor has an
opportunity of conveying interesting information on the natural pro-,
ductions of various countries, especially on those of his pupils.
Should he have within reach a general map, or, better still, a large
terrestrial globe, he will add considerably to the benefit of the lesson
by pointing out the situation of every country or town, as its name
is mentioned.

In the first examination of objects children should be induced to
discover what belongs to nature and what to art. Natural substances
assume, by the effect of art, so many forms and appearances, that,
in many cases, a great deal of ingenuity is required to find out the
original materials. These investigations will bring within the range
of conversation the three great subdivisions of natural substances,
namely, the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, as well as the
various arts of life.

These and the other topics which have now been enumerated as.
coming within the scope of these conversations, will considerably
assist children in comprehending books when they begin to read, and-
will prepare the way for their future study of many interesting^

228 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

branches of instruction. A variety of useful notions is elicited,
which it would take many years to obtain by the ordinary routine of
experience, and which never forms part of a college course.

3. Cautious Gradation to be observed in these Lessons.

One of the chief objects of early lessons ought to be to excite in a child
such a love of knowledge as will induce him to be ardent in its pur-
suit. His natural desire of variety should be indulged, and the grati-
fication of his curiosity should be combined with his improvement.
To make him a more active* agent in these lessons, he should, at first,
be induced to point out objects, the names or properties of which he
does not know, or which he may have forgotton. This simple act of
reflection will prepare him for making other inquiries afterwards. In
the first stages of these lessons, he should be frequently allowed to
choose the objects about which he wishes to be informed ; he should
be particularly encouraged to ask questions and make observations.
Whatever is interesting to him is an appropriate subject of investiga-
tion. He will learn with delight new facts and new terms connected
with an object already familiar to him, or information given him in
answer to his questions ; and what he thus learns he easily remem-
bers. The remarks of the child will, in many cases, show the in-
structor in what manner the subject may be treated. When the
topics touched upon are not new to him, he may be questioned about
them ; when they are, he should receive whatever information is
suited to his wants and age ; the instructor, at the same time, keep-
ing up his pupil's attention by kindness of manner, liveliness of de-
livery, and occasional anecdotes.

The benefit to be derived from the conversations on objects will
greatly depend on the cautious gradation observed in introducing
new considerations, and in not allowing the lessons to continue so
long as to produce fatigue. They should cease before the child
evinces symptoms of weariness ; for it is desirable that the impression
on his mind, at the conclusion of the lesson, be pleasurable, in order
that he may feel a lively desire for its renewal.

These exercises in observation, which, in the commencement, ought
not to exceed a few minutes, may be gradually lengthened, as chil-
dren acquire with age greater command over their attention, and
greater desire for information. Many objects should, at first, be
offered to their notice, because the immaturity of infancy does not
permit a minute investigation of each ; and attention can then be
kept up only by variety and novelty. As their powers of observa-
tion and reflection increase by exercise, the subjects of consideration

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 229

must be gradually diminished, until one may suffice at a sitting.
Thus, as they advance, being required to attend more closely to a
single object for a greater length of time, more unity of design is
preserved, and more depth of information is acquired. But let it
never be forgotten that long confinement and protracted application
to one subject should be seduously avoided. There must be no
gloom, no misery, associated with the first intellectual exertions :
happiness is the privilege of childhood.

SECT. III. — EXERCISES IN REFLECTION.

1. Size, Weight, Durability, $-c., of things.

When children have been for some time engaged in conversing on
the subjects above alluded to, and when reading can be practiced con-
currently with and subsidiarily to oral instruction, that is, toward
the age of ten or eleven, the instructor will introduce considerations
of a higher character. He must now exercise the reflective powers
of his pupils ; and, for this purpose, he must enlarge their sphere of
observation, and explore with them the fields of science.

The properties of things, or the laws of nature respecting them,
which are submitted to the attention of young persons, must now be
considered as the elements of scientific knowledge. These proper-
ties, or, to speak more philosophically, the relations in which things
stand to each other, may be classified under three heads: 1. Rela-
tions to our constitution, as their color, taste, temperature, form, &c. ;
2. Relations to other particular substances, as their compressibility,
fusibility, inflammability, fragility, &c. ; 3. Relations to bodies in
general, that is, which may be predicated of all bodies, whatever be
their particular properties, as rest, motion, extension, quantity, &c.
The first two kinds of properties are elicited by comparison, and are
relative: those of the third kind are independent of relation to any
particular substance, and are absolute. The properties which bodies
possess as belonging to some particular class of beings, form the data
from which to reason in natural history and the physical sciences;
the properties of the third kind form the subject of our reasoning in
all mathematical investigations.

In addition to the consideration of the parts arid substances of ob-
jects, to the notions of number, form, color, and other sensible prop-
erties, to which we have already alluded, the children will be made
to estimate the size, weight, durability, and value of things, the rela-
tive proportions of different measures of the same kind, the relative
positions of various objects, or of the different parts of one object,
their distances from them, and from each other. For this new series

3

280 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

of exercises the learners should be furnished with the various m«-as-
ures in common use, a yard and foot, a quart, pint, and quartern ;
scales, steelyard, and weights ; a dial with revolving hands ; gold,
silver, and copper coins ; a plumb line, a square rule, and compasses.
To these should be added the measures, weights, and coins of any
foreign country whose language they are to learn.

During the lesson these measures should always be at hand,
and referred to as a test in the examination of objects. By frequent
application of them, children would form a just idea of measures .of
all kinds, of the subdivision of time and the value of money, an-l
would soon be familiarized with the calculations required for the or-
dinary purposes of life. A small sum, made up of the current coins
of two countries, would enable them to practice various calculations
in reduction and exchange. Different graduated measures of capacity
and weight would offer similar exercises to discover their relative
value, and show how many measures of one kind are equivalent to
one measure of the other. Many interesting arithmetical problems
may be founded on the facts thus acquired.

We need scarcely advert to the superiority of this practical in-
struction over the senseless and irksome task of learning by heart
tables of weights and measures, often imposed on children, when
they have no idea of what is meant by the technical terms of which
they are composed. The details so often found in books of the value
and measures of things, the dimensions of buildings, the distances
of places, the hights of mountains, the length of rivers, &c., can
convey but vague and erroneous ideas to those who do not possess
clear notions of the current money, of ounces, pounds, and tons
weight, of pints, gallons, and bushels, of feet, fathoms, and miles.

The parts and the substances of objects being now investigated
more philosophically than heretofore, will call the attention of the
young observers to the classification and nomenclature of organic and
inorganic matter, and to the various departments of natural history
and natural philosophy. The mention of colors may, henceforth, afford
the instructor opportunity of giving to inquisitive learners an insight
into the theory of light, of explaining, by means of the prism, the
phenomenon of the rainbow, and of investigating many optical prob-
lems. Considerations of quantities, forms, dimensions, superficies,
and magnitude, will gradually lead to practical arithmetic, to the ele-
ments of geometry, and to the measurement of plane and solid
figures; those of weight to the principles of gravitation, and, from
them, to the elements of mechanics and astronomy ; those of distance
to perspective and to the mention of the telescope and of astronom-

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 231

ical discoveries ; those of durability and time to chronology and his-
tory ; those of value and cost to the elements of wealth and to the
first principles of political economy ; references to the countries from
which objects come will furnish the opportunity of entering upon
geographical inquiries. Thus, by the force of association, number-
less chains of ideas, depending chiefly on the information and habits
of study of the instructor, will exercise the reflective powers of the
young, and enrich their memory with extensive and useful knowledge.

2. Physical Geography — Geographical box.

Ill all investigations the instructor should seize every opportunity
to turn the conversation on useful subjects. But, among those which
may engage the attention of the young, geography is one of the
most suitable ; for it is addressed to the senses and memory as much
as to the reflective powers.

The child is taught l.he points of the compass relatively, first, to
the position of the room in which he is, and, then, to the different
parts of the house. He may, afterwards, when he is out of doors,
ascertain the geographical direction of the streets, the course of the
river, and the relative positions of different buildings. But, before
the denominations of east, west, north, and south, are mentioned to
him, he should be told of the rotundity of the earth as well as of its
double rotary motion, and be made to observe the direction of the
sun, its successive positions in the heavens — in the morning, at noon,
and in the evening. These terms, arising out of the want which he
has of them, will be clear, and easily retained. How many young
people are there who, for want of this previous practical information,
see in the cardinal points only the four sides of a map !

The geographical terms expressive of the various natural subdi-
visions and physical characteristics of land and water can never be
defined so as to give children clear and accurate ideas of the things
which they represent. They are best explained in the presence of
the things themselves. But as many of these objects can not be
seen in their natural state, their place might be supplied by a small
model in relief of an imaginary portion of the earth exhibiting its
principal features.

The construction of such a model presents no difficulty : the author,
applying to the education of his own children most of the sugges-
tions thrown out in these pages, has made one himself for their use.
A lake, a Mediterranean sea, bays, &c., are carved out of wood ; and
mountains, rocks, banks of rivers, and undulations of the ground are
made with putty ; the whole is painted in oil of the natural color of

-52 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

the objects represented — white for the snowy peaks, green for the
valleys, <fec. This model fits in a box one foot square by two and a
half inches in depth, of which it occupies the half; the inside is
painted a light bluish green, to imitate the color of the sea.

At the time of using this box it is half till. <1 with u.it.-r, which,
coming in contact with the sides of the model and passing under it,
produces peninsulas, bays, harbors, creeks, lakes, <fec. ; and thus gives
a faithful and most vivid representation of the physical character of
the terrestrial and aqueous globe. To add to tin- u-'t'uliu-^ of thi>
apparatus, a magnetic needle is placed on a pivot fixed on one of the
mountains, thus indicating the relative geographical position of every
spot

We need scarcely say that a geographical lesson founded on these
elements is highly instructive and entertaining to young children.
Their natural curiosity is excited at the sight of this model ; and
they anxiously expect any information which the instructor is about
to impart to them on the physical constitution of the globe, and the
natural phenomena connected with its existence. They may be
called upon to define in their own words all the terms, of which they
have the sensible signification before their eyes ; they see that an
island is the counterpart of a lake; a cape, of a bay; an isthmus,
of a strait : guided by the needle, they may be made to state the
relative position of different places, as well as the direction of streams
and chains of mountains in reference to the points of the compass.
A survey of this fac-simile will give them an idea of the innumer-
able beauties of the terrestrial surface ; it will bring to their notice
its verdant plains, its diversified hills, its winding rivers, expanding
as they run down to the sea, which spreads its immense sheet over
more than half the globe. They may be told of the indispensable
agency of water toward the fertility of the earth, the existence of
man, the arts of life, and international communication ; they may be
told of navigation in modern and ancient times, of the mariner's
compass and the polar star, of sailing and steam vessels, of maritime
discoveries, of celebrated navigators and travelers, and of many other
interesting subjects, which would be called to mind by the sight of
land and water.

Children take a lively pleasure in traveling, with the end of a
pointer, over this Lilliputian world, and naming each place as they
journey on, sometimes following down a river from its source to its
mouth, or seeking a defile in a mountain to pass into the valley at
the other side ; sometimes resting on a table-land, or ascending a
peak ; at other times, going along the coasts over strands and cliffs,

EXERCISES IN REFLEITION. 233

standing on a promontory, or venturing on a sand-bank ; now and
then shouting with joy at the discovery of a volcano, a cavern, a
grotto, a cascade, or a cataract All these objects will recall to the
iniii'l of an instructor conversant with the wonders of our planet, the
MX '*t remarkable among their corresponding realities ; the occasional
ID- ution of them, at the moment when his young hearers' attention
i< ri*»'ti-d on the subject, could not fail to be eagerly received. These
:raphical topics will by an immediate connection turn the conver-
>ation on geological and atmospheric inquiries, on the structure of
thf t-arth, and the distribution of organic life over its surface ; its
mines of coal, salt, metals, and diamonds; its various strata and fos-
sil remains; on tides and winds, hot and mineral springs, water-
spouts, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and a thousand other natural
phenomena. Thus will they, in an impressive manner, become rap-
idly and thoroughly acquainted with the elements of physical geog-
raphy and the great laws of nature, and be "excited, at their entrance
upon these studies, by the desire of proceeding farther.

When a child has been familiarized with these elements, his next
step will consist in being made acquainted with the nature of maps,
that he may early know how to use them, and be induced to refer to
them in the course of his reading. This he will accomplish most
effectually by constructing some himself, under the guidance of his
instructor. If he has been early encouraged to sketch from nature,
he will easily draw with reference to the points of the compass the
plan or map of the room in which he studies, and afterwards that
of the premises and grounds surrounding the house in which he
liv.-s. This will enable him the better to understand the relations
which maps bear to the reality, and consequently to refer to them
with the more profit.

Afti-r he has executed several maps of particular places, he may

iind'-rtake the tracing of whole countries. A black globe of two

in diameter, at the least, made so as to admit of delineations in

chalk, would considerably facilitate this object and enable him to

solve many geographical questions.*

The clear notions of number and measures which the child may,
l.y this time, have acquired will facilitate his further progress in the
study of geography, by enabling him to conceive rightly the various
numerical considerations which occur as part of that science, such as
the superficies of the earth, the extent of countries, the relative dis-
tance of places, the amount of population, the length of rivers, the
hight of mountains, the measure of degrees, and others.

* Such Globes are made by Candee & Co., New Haven, Conn.

234 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

3. Political Geography; Globe with National Flags.

Equal in importance to a knowledge of the physical constitution
of our globe is an acquaintance with the various races of men who
cover its surface, and the numerous political communities into which
they are formed. A complete course of geography should comprise
these different subjects of consideration. When children have clear
notions of the extent, form, composition, and external configuration
of the earth, they may with profit be told of the different countries
into which it has been subdivided, and be informed of their resources,
and of every thing relating to the nations by which they are inhab-
ited. This information constitutes political geography, which is the
foundation of political science ; for, unless we know the condition of
a country and its inhabitants, we can not reason correctly on their
wants, customs, and means of prosperity.

The elements of the condition of a country are either natural or
artificial. The natural elements are its geographical position, its
climate, its boundaries, its coast-line, the character of its rivers, and
the quality of its soil, its mineral, vegetable, or animal productions,
and lastly, its population ; the artificial elements consist of the civil
and political institutions of the people, their agriculture, manufacture,
and commerce; their progress in the arts and sciences; their Ian
guage, literature, religion, and mode of life. The attention of the
learners should be directed to all these subjects in turn, as circum-
stances afford opportunities of entering upon them. They should,
especially, be shown how the natural elements of a country, by de-
termining the character and peculiar energies of the people, influ-
ence their industrial, social, moral, and intellectual habits.

As an introduction to the first elements of political geography we
would recommend the use of a globe containing only the terrestrial
and aqueous configuration of the earth, with the national boundaries
of the different countries and an indication of their capitals. The
ohild, who has to learn these first notions, can, with this globe, easily
attend to them without the confusion which, in using the ordinary
maps and globe, arises from the numerous names and lines of rivers
with which they are covered, and which are not needed at the out-
set. But to render this first study more impressive and more inter-
esting, we connect it with another branch of information, which,
although most useful through life, has been totally overlooked in the
education of youth. We allude to those emblems which, floating in
the breeze, proclaim all over the globe the existence and power of the
nations which they represent.

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION.

UNIVERSITY

or

An acquaintance with national flags is indispensable to naval and
military men, and useful to all the members of a commercial com-
munity ; for they serve to distinguish the different nations in their
political, military, and commercial relations. The distinctive flags
of the numerous ships which crowd our harbors arid docks are to
him who is acquainted with them the source of much valuable in-
formation. They exhibit in one view our commercial intercourse
with foreign nations; they lead the mind to an inquiry into the
nature of our imports and exports, and hence into an investigation
of our agricultural and manufacturing produce.

The child, having been told the names of the nations to which the
flags belong, is desired to place these in the capitals of the countries
to which they belong, and which are indicated by small holes into
which the ends of the flag-staffs are made to fit. It may be easily
conceived how amusing and instructive he will find the occupation
of planting these standards in their proper places. When they have
been distributed all over the globe, the pleasing effect which their
variegated colors and their different emblems present to his eye pow-
erfully fixes his attention : he sees at one glance, and in a striking
manner, the relative positions of all nations, and their various pos-
sessions abroad.

In order to extend still farther the utility of this geographical ap-
paratus, the size of the flags should vary with the degree of political
power of each nation, and the length of the staff's with the extent of
territory of each country. On the staffs may be inscribed the
amount of population of the respective countries, their superficies in
square miles, and the names of their capitals. In addition to these
fundamental notions, the instructor could, now and then, as any. flag
engages the attention of his young pupils, associate with it much
useful information concerning the people to whom it belongs. He
may speak of their mode of government, their customs, national
character, and degree of civilization ; of the pursuits in which they
-are most remarkable, and the discoveries and inventions with which
they have benefited humanity ; of their standard works, and the ad-
Tantages to be derived from a knowledge of their language.

With this apparatus, and in the case especially of- young persons
of the upper ranks, a well-informed teacher may highly entertain his
pupils with interesting narratives relating to the veneration of people
for their national flags, the honor attached to their defense, or to the
taking of one belonging to an enemy, and the deeds of valor to
-which both gave rise in ancient and modern wars. A description of-
the armorial bearings of nations and noble families, which originated

236 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

in the crusades, and are emblazoned on their different banners ana
coats of arms, as also an account of the origin of feudal distinctions,
and their emblematic mode of transmission to posterity through the
devices of heraldry, would excite in high spirited youths a lively in-
terest in the chivalrous exploits of their ancestors, and in the history
of the middle ages ; the inquiries might be continued down to mod-
ern times, in following the traces of these distinctions still percepti
ble in the military uniforms of nations and the liveries of privaie-
families.

In concluding these suggestions on the mode of introducing young
persons to the study of geography, we will extract from an Ameri-
can writer (Horace Mann's '-'•Report on Schools in Europe?} u
short and lively description of a lesson on this subject, delivered in
his presence by a German professor to an elementary class. We fed
the more inclined to do so, as it shows the value of linear drawing
in teaching, and presents a new feature in geographical instruction.

"The teacher stood by the blackboard with the chalk in his hand.
After casting his eye over the class to see that all were ready, he
struck at the middle of the board. With a rapidity of hand which
my eye could hardly follow, lie made a series of those short diver-
gent lines, or shadings, employed by map-engravers to represent a
chain of mountains. He had scarcely turned an angle, or shot off a
sjtur, when the scholars began to cry out, 'Carpathian Mountainsr
Hungary, Black Forest Mountains, Wirtemberg,' <fec.

"In less than half a minute, the ridge of that grand -central ele-
vation, which separates the waters that flow north-west into the Ger-
man Ocean, from those that flow north into the Baltic, and south-
east into the Black Sea, was presented to view, executed almost as
beautifully as an engraving. A dozen crinkling strokes, made in the
twinkling of an eye, represented the head waters of the great rivers
which flow in different directions from that mountainous range ; while
the children, almost as eager and excited as though they had actually
seen the torrents dashing down the mountain sides, cried out ' Danube^
Elbe, Vistula, Oder,' &c. The next moment I heard a succession of
small strokes, or taps, so rapid as to be almost indistinguishable, and
hardly had my eye time to discern a large number of dots made
along the margins of the rivers, when the shout of ' Lintz, Vienna,
Prague, Dresden,' &c., struck my ear. At this point in the exercise,
the spot which had been occupied on the blackboard was nearly a
circle, of which the starting-point, or place where the teacher first
began, was the center, but now a few additional strokes around the
circumferance of the incipient continent extended the mountain

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 237

ranges outwards toward the plain — the children responding the
names of the countries in which they respectively lay. With a few
more flourishes the rivers flowed onwards, toward their several term-
inations, and, by another succession of dots, new cities sprang up
along their banks. By this time the children had become as much
•excited as though they had been present at a world-making. They
rose in their seats, they flung out both hands, and their eyes kindled
as they cried out the names of the different places, which, under the
magic of the teacher's crayon, rose into view. Within ten minutes
from the commencement of the lesson, there stood upon the black-
board a beautiful map of Germany, with its mountains, principal
rivers, and cities, the coast of the German Ocean, of the Baltic and
the Black Seas, and all so accurately proportioned, that I think only
slight errors would have been found, had it been subjected to the
test of a scale of miles. A part of this time was taken up in cor-
recting a few mistakes of the pupils — for the teacher's mind seemed
to be in his ear as well as in his hand — and, notwithstanding the as-
tonishing celerity of his movements, he detected erroneous answers,
and turned round to correct them. The rest of the lesson consisted
in questions and answers respecting productions, climate, soil, ani-
mals, &c., <fec."

" Compare," the author adds, " the effects of such a lesson as this,
both as to the amount of the knowledge communicated and the
vividness, and, of course, the permanence, of the ideas obtained, with
a lesson where the scholars look out a few names of places on a life-
less Atlas, but never send their imaginations abroad over the earth,
and where the teacher sits listlessly down before them to interrogate
them from a book, in which all the questions are printed at full
length, to supersede, on his part, all necessity of knowledge."

4. History and Chronology.

Connected with political geography and the subdivisions of the
globe is the history of its inhabitants at different periods. Children
may be made acquainted with the most celebrated characters of vari-
ous nations, and the most remarkable events of their history, as par-
ticular countries are brought to their notice in the course of the con-
versation— the instructor taking care always to associate with the
historical fact the time and place at which it occurred. It is particu-
larly from sensible objects, from engravings, pictures, statues, bas-
reliefs, and ancient monuments, that they should incidentally receive
their first notions of history and chronology. Pictorial illustrations,
-which so generally accompany the text of modern publications, may

238 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

easily be procured; they will, from the vividness and permanency of
visual impressions, be a useful auxiliary, in fixing historical facts on-
the memory.

Some regularity, however, may be introduced in this branch of
instruction by means of synoptical tables of events and kings, ar-
ranged chronologically and synchronically. With one of these tables,.
a well informed teacher will be enabled to impart to his pupils a
large amount of interesting information on the history of the nation,
which is, at the time, the object of their consideration. This instruc-
tion should, at first, be purely narrative, the teacher confining him-
self to memorable events, heroic actions, remarkable sayings, and all
those beautiful traits, which, while they interest young persons, tend
to elevate their minds, and excite in them a taste for historical
studies.

It needs scarcely be observed that children should at first be in-
troduced to the history of their own country in preference to that of
any other ; their attention should next be directed to sacred history,
which, going back to the origin of the world, is the best preparation,
for the study of ancient history and for the reading of the Holy
Scriptures. With those who are destined to receive a classical edu-
cation, Rome, Greece, and their mythology may be made occasion-
ally subjects of conversation : and, in general, the history of any
nation, whose language is being or is to be learned, should be mad»*
an object of instruction, either orally or through books, earlier than
would otherwise be desirable.

In alluding to dates, the children should be led gradually from the
present time, through a series of epochs not very distant from each
other, up to the one referred to. Chronology and history should,
in fact, be taught upwards, from the most recent to the most ancient
dates, if we wish young learners to form a clear*conception of remote
eras. They will benefit the more from the past, as they understand
better the present, and can compare one with the other.

A regular course of historical studies, however, can be pursued only
by means of a series of works free at first from any detail of wars and
political events, and increasing in minuteness and seriousness of mat-
ter progressively with the intellectual advancement of the learners.
The information which they will thus acquire will be best retained
by making it a subject of conversation with the instructor, or by
simply narrating in their own words as much as they can remember.
Should any important particulars be forgotten, the teacher may recall
them and direct the attention of his pupils to them for a second
perusal. In order that they may receive from their historical studies

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 239-

useful lessons of morality and political science, he should accustom
them to reflect on the motives of action and the passions of men, on
the concatenation of events and their effects on the condition of the
people, on the principles of good government, and the causes which
produce either the happiness and prosperity, or the misery and ruin
of a nation. But this regular course can not be entered upon at a
very early age : this would be more dangerous than profitable. His-
tory to a young child would only be a confused collection of facts ;
for he could not perceive their relations with each other, nor appre-
ciate their causes and consequences; and these facts, being read with-
out discernment, could but impair his understanding. As it records
more injustice and bloodshed than virtue and philanthropy, he would
thus be early accustomed to depravity. It is best learned after the
age of fifteen ; until this time, young people may prepare for it by
the study of geography and the perusal of voyages and travels.

History is particularly objectionable, as are all purely intellectual
pursuits, during the. first two periods of youth, because it does not
exercise the powers of perception and observation. Those branches
of knowledge should be preferred, which are favorable to out-of-
door instruction, and which take for their theme the works of the
Creation.

5. Excursions in the Country, and visits to Manufactories.

A child may be introduced to the elements of physical knowledge,
in his walks in the country, in the garden, or by the water-side. He
may be made to observe the hills and valleys, islands and lakes, fields
and woods ; the immense variety of plants, and the action of light,
heat, and rain upon them ; the different kinds of soils and the con-
sequent varieties of vegetation ; the origin of streams, the direction
of the winds, their important office in nature, and their immense
benefit to man. The changes which take place from one season to
another should not be allowed to pass unnoticed : interesting phe-
nomena occur at every period of the year, in the spring, especially,
when the air, earth, and water are teeming with life. Let him watch
the progress of the leaves, buds, flowers, fruits, and seeds of plants ;
let him follow the operations of nature in her various states, and ob-
serve the assistance which she receives from agriculture. At other
times, let his attention be directed to animated nature; ihe active
scene around him will present new and endless subjects of inquiry;
the birds which fly on all sides, the cattle which graze in the meadow,
the insects which creep at his feet, or buzz in the air, all will afford
inexhaustible sources of most valuable instruction. If his curiosity

240

CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

be judiciously excited and directed, be will watcb witb deep intnv-t
tbe varied and astonisbing instincts by which these infinitely diversi-
fied beings sustain their existence, unconsciously but unerringly
guided by their bountiful Creator.

Such lessons are peculiarly suited to the inhabitants of the country,
who, passing their lives in the presence of nature, may derive con-
tinual profit and pleasure from the study of her laws, and the con-
templation of her wonders. To a person whose attention has not
been duly awakened to the external world, and who has not been
early accustomed to observe, all the admirable works of creation are
lo>t, the surface of the earth is a blank. The busy scene of nature
passes before an uii practiced eye, without communicating an idea to
the mind, and without kindling the spirit of devout adoration of Him,
whose universal lo\v smiles everywhere.

It is but another proof of the harmony of design in all the works
of the Creator, that this method of directly cultivating the observing
faculty can not be adequately carried out without a certain amount
of muscular exertion, and of daily exposure to the open air, in col-
1'Tting and examining the varied objects of interest with which crea-
tion abounds. In other words, we can not benefit the perceptive fac-
ulties without, at the same time, benefiting the muscular system and
th" organs of respiration, circulation, and digestion ; and this grand
recommendation in the eye of reason— pursuing study in the field
of nature instead of in books alone — is actually, though not avow-
edly, that which retards its adoption in ordinary education. A ram-
ble from the school-room into the country to survey the works of
God, is deemed an encouragement to idleness and a love of pleasure ;
and, therefore, it is denied.

In rural excursions the sight should be exercised in distinguishing
remote objects, and appreciating their number, forms, and dimen-
sions ; their distance should be estimated by the eye, and immedi-
ately verified by measurement. Short distances may be ascertained
by paces, and longer ones by noticing the time consumed in passing
over them. Thus, the relation existing between space, time, and
motion may be shown in measuring the one by the other. Let the
child find out what space can be passed over in a given time, or with
a u'iven velocity; what time is required to walk or run, at a certain
rate, over a certain distance ; what rapidity of motion is requisite to
reach a determined point in a given time. Such practices would
prove useful iu many ways. The estimating of distances at sight,
which in some people seems an intuitive act, is merely the result of
habit ; yet, how few can judge with even tolerable accuracy of the

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 241

Distances at which objects are from each other, and from their own
•eye ! To estimate the angle which objects make at the eye, is an-
other practice of real utility to all men, and to naval and military
men in particular.

A country residence is most favorable for pursuing all these exer-
cises. To those who are confined within the precincts of a town we
would recommend occasional visits to foundries, factories, and work-
shops : art, as well as nature, abounds in sources of instruction. In
these visits a child would witness the facts which have already been
made the subjects of his conversations, and would see the applica-
tion of the .sciences which will subsequently demand his attention.
Thus would mechanical and intellectual pursuits assist each other.
>k What an immense stock of scientific principles," says Dugald Stew-
art, " lie buried amid the details of manufactures and of arts ! We
may form an idea of this from an acknowledgment of Mr. Boyle,
that he had learned more by frequenting the shops of tradesmen than
from all the volumes he had read."

He whose mind has been early familiarized with the interesting
scenes of nature and the wonders of art, will never lose the impres-
sive lessons which they teach. Long after, in the ardor of literary
composition, or amidst the excitement of public assemblies, their
vivid images will reappear in their pristine luster to give happy
expression to thoughts which shall then be awakened by passing
events.

6. Natural History, Mineralogy, Geology, Botany, Zoology.

When, by casual consideration of objects, children have been famil-
iarized with a variety of natural substances, the teacher, introducing
more order into his lessons, may venture on classifications, and treat
methodically of the three kingdoms of nature. This subject will fur-
nish favorable opportunities for making frequent reference to physical
geography, with which it is closely associated, by reason of the diver-
sity of organic and inorganic beings, consequent on the difference of
climate in various parts of the globe; whilst the practice of distin-
guishing the characteristic features of these beings, and following the
chain which connects them, is highly calculated to improve the per-
ceptive and observant powers, and to create habits of nice discrimina-
tion. The amazing variety of interesting objects which natural his-
tory offers for consideration, and the admirable adaptation of means
-to ends which they exhibit, render it the fittest branch of knowledge
for exciting in young people a spirit of inquiry, and a sense of the
infinite power, wisdom, and goodness of God.

Mineralogy may be made an object of attention in the first stages

242 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

of instruction. The distinctive qualities of inert matter are more sim-
ple and less numerous than those of vegetable and animal substan-
ces ; they are more distinct and better defined. Minerals, different
from plants and animals, can be kept within reach, and exhibited in
all their different states. The brilliant colors of gems and metallic
ores, as also their crystallization, a most striking feature of the ex-
ternal character of minerals, are well calculated 10 excite the curiosity
of children and to fix their attention. The singular properties of
diamonds, gold, quicksilver, and the loadstone, and the great diver-
sity of purposes to which these minerals, and, more especially, silver,
copper, lead, and iron, are appropriated, should be offered to their
notice, as also the chief attributes of metals — their, luster, sonorous-
ness, tenacity, malleability, ductility, fusibility, specific gravity. The
examination of metals will naturally lead to the mention of mines,
the modes of working them, the countries where they are found, and
the curious processes of metallurgy. .

Closely connected with mineralogy is geology, which presents a
most interesting field of research ; it carries the mind from the con-
sideration of rocks and mines, of mountains and valleys, to the pe-
riod of their creation, and, by a natural transition, to Him who
created them. Geology is, as it were, the earth's autobiography,
written in symbolical and unmistakable language. Young persons
should be familiarized with its elements and general outlines as soon
as they can comprehend them. They may be told of the composi-
tion and arrangement of the materials which form the crust of our
globe, of the changes which are continually wrought on its surface
by the agency of inundations, earthquakes, volcanoes, and of the
admirable contrivances by which it has been rendered, throughout
successive ages, capable of supporting countless myriads of organic
existences.

The important functions which plants perform in the economy of
nature, the arts of civilization, and the support of life, claim for bot-
any a prominent place in modern education. Few objects in the
external world are more interesting than vegetable productions, and,
especially, flowers and fruits, whose richness of coloring, as well as
endless diversity of hues, forms, fragrance, and flavor, excite admira-
tion for the wonderful display of power and goodness which they
proclaim in their Author. The instructor should bring to his pupil's
notice the influence of climate and culture on vegetation, the im-
mense variety of plants, their exquisite perfection and universal use-
fulness ; he should explain their structure and the functions of their
organs, their mode of nourishment, of propagation, and their growth,

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 243

the nutritious properties of some and medicinal properties of others.
Every botanical fact shows design, and affords matter for serious con-
sideration, such as the natural dissemination of seeds, the successive
changes of plants, the invariable direction of roots and branches, the
circulation of the sap, the transpiration of the leaves, their happy
distribution for the reception of light, air, and water, the purification
of the atmosphere by their absorbent powers, and many other sur-
prising phenomena of the vegetable kingdom.

To make children acquainted with plants, their names and botani-
cal character, the instructor may, at first, place before them only a
few of the most familiar species, and gradually introduce to their
notice flowers, shrubs, and trees, less common — passing from indige-
nous to exotic, with the assistance of pictorial representations. By
helping them to examine in what particular each differs from the
others — independently, however, at first, of scientific nomenclature —
he will enable them soon to distinguish the leading characters of a
great number of plants, and will open their minds to endless subjects
of admiration in the infinite variety of nature.

Different specimens of timber may also be presented to them,
which will further engage their attention in discriminating between
the properties of wood, and thence lead to a consideration of its
usefulness. There is scarcely a plant of which the whole or some
portion is not employed for food, medicine, clothing, or furniture, for
distilling, dying, tanning, building, or other useful arts of life. In
fact, the innumerable uses to which vegetable as well as mineral sub-
stances are applied by man for satisfying his wants or multiplying
his enjoyments, may be exhibited in every thing around : such co^
siderations will be an excellent preparation for entering upon the
study of the physical sciences.

Zoology will afford endless subjects of familiar conversation, both
amusing and instructive. The lively interest which children usually
take in animals renders these suitable objects for giving them ele-
mentary notions of natural history. The domestic species should, at
first, engage their attention, and, afterwards, by means of colored
prints, the most remarkable among those which do not come within
daily observation, may be made the subjects of very useful lessons.
The fidelity and sagacity of the dog, the docility of the horse, the
intelligence of the elephant, the industry of the beaver, the persever-
ing fortitude of the camel, the generous magnanimity of the lion,
will supply matter for entertaining narratives, serious reflections, and
incentives to further inquiries. The instructor may speak of the
varieties of animals differing with the latitudes in which they live,,^

244 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

of their external forms and characteristic qualities ; of their food,
dispositions, and instincts, in accordance with their organization ; of
the tender solicitude they display for their young ; and of the ser-
vices which many of them render to man. Particular mention should
be made of those which supply his wants or administer to his well-
being, during their lives, with their strength, swiftness, and sagacity,
their milk and honey, their wool and silk, and, after their death, with
their flesh, skin, fur, hair, feathers, bones, horn, ivory, shell, and other
useful articles. If the conversation turn upon birds, he may expa-
tiate on their varieties, plumage, migratory instincts, nest-building,
power of imitation and melody. These subjects would lead incident-
ally to the different modes of fowling, hunting, and fishing in vari-
ous countries.

Fishes and insects should, in their turn, become objects of inquiry ;
their diversified conformation, their amazing fecundity, and their won-
derful adaptation both to the elements in which they move and to
their modes of existence, will challenge admiration. The multiplicity
of insects, and, especially of animalcula, is so vast as to baffle the
most minute investigation : every plant, every leaf, every drop of
water, is the abode of myriads which escape the naked eye, and are
visible only by the aid of the microscope. The transformations
which some instincts undergo, the ingenuity and industry which others
display in the structure of their habitations; their diverse ways of
procuring food, their instinctive skill in selecting places of safety for
the deposition of their eggs, and in providing for the future wants of
the young; their contrivances to guard their dwellings from the
assaults of enemies, their modes of defense when attacked, their social
habits — we may almost say, their municipal regulations and political
constitutions — and innumerable other instances of the wise arrange-
ment of a bountiful God, in providing for the preservation and well-
being of his creatures, may be opportunely presented to children by
a judicious and enlightened instructor.

It is when the young are filled with admiration for the tender care
which the Creator has bestowed on his creatures, that benevolent
feelings can be most effectively awakened in their hearts ; they may
be impressed with the idea that the lower animals, having sensations
in common with humanity, cruelty to them is a crime. Pity to ani-
mals begets charity to men. The seasonable narration of some
remarkable trait of the instinct of animals, of some anecdote of their
attachment or sagacity, would interest children, call for their sym-
pathies, and, at the same time, inspire them with a wish to inquire
further into natural history. Many celebrated philosophers and

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION.

245

naturalists have acquired their taste for science from some pleasur-
able association of their earliest childhood. Linnaeus attributed his
love for the study of plants to some observations on a flower which
his father made to him when he was about four years of age. The
biography of eminent men would furnish multitudes of incidents
which have similarly determined in them corresponding peculiarities
of character.

7. Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Physiology, and Mental Philosophy.

When the children's attention has been, for some time, engaged in
acquiring a knowledge of the external forms and characters of ob-
jects, the description of which constitutes natural history, they may
be made acquainted with the most curious and most important among
the innumerable phenomena of nature, the secret causes of which are
unveiled by natural philosophy. They may be led to consider the
effects of bodies acting on each other, the laws of gravitation, motion,
equilibrium, and the various mechanical powers — the lever, the pul-
ley, the wedge, the screw, the inclined plane. They should be shown
to what immense advantage to civilized man are these mechanical
appliances and others, such as wind, water, steam, and the electro-
magnetic fluid. The governing laws of mechanics may be illustrated
by implements of domestic use — the poker, scissors, nut-crackers,
steelyard, will exhibit various forms of levers ; the very playthings
of children — a top, a hoop, a kite, a ball, marbles, soap-bubbles, a
sucker, a pop-gun, will exemplify diverse principles of science ; no
toy is despicable, no occupation is frivolous, which can assist in the
elucidation of truth.

The pressure, levels, motion, elasticity, weight, and other prop-
erties of fluids, as well as the specific gravity of bodies, may be
elicited in a familiar way, by the scientific results which bear more
immediately on the occupations of life. Swimming, the floating of
vessels, canals, water-mills, the water-press and water-clock, forcing
and lifting pumps, the fire-engine, syphon, diving-bell, and many
other philosophical contrivances, could be made the subjects of most
interesting conversations in illustration of the properties of air and
water. In alluding especially to the air, its nature and use in the
arts may be further explained, and rendered sensible by means of the
wind-mill, barometer, thermometer, air-pump, bellows, balloons, &c.
Air being the medium of sound, its investigations would naturally
lead to the consideration of acoustic phenomena, which may be elu-
cidated by the vibration of bells, the effects of echoes, thunder, gun-
powder, whispering-galleries, the speaking-trumpet, wind and string
instruments, musical -glasses, &c.

246 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

It would be impossible here to enumerate the various familiar
modes by which may be illustrated the principles of mechanics, hy-
drodynamics, pneumatics, electricity, galvanism, magnetism, optics,
and astronomy. Books should be consulted by the teacher, both as
means of enriching his own mind, and as stores from which he may
select such information or such experiments as may be best suited to
the understandings of his pupils ; but the order in which are usually
pursued all serious studies is, by no means, that which we should
adopt in communicating the facts, or teaching the language of
science to children. His chief object should be, by indulging their
taste for variety and taking advantage of circumstances, to inspire
them with an earnest love of knowledge. No branch of instruction
is better calculated than natural philosophy for exciting and gratify-
ing their curiosity ; and, whatever be the way or the order in which
they acquire the elements of that science, if they are once conversant
with them, every thing they read afterwards will find its place. The
particular circumstances of time, place, fortune, or social position, in
which the learners are placed, will best suggest to a well informed
instructor the department of the science and the modes of illustra-
tion which are available or appropriate ; but there can be no doubt
that, with diagrams and experiments, such as may be found in many
popular works on the subject, the elements of natural philosophy
may be brought within the comprehension of children under the age
of twelve.

With regard to chemistry, the instructor may, as occasion suggests,
examine with his pupils the affinity between various substances, their
elements, their mutual action, and all attractions and repulsions
which form its basis. He should particularly communicate to them
information respecting the various bodies and natural elements which
are constantly exercising their influence on our condition, and on all
.things around us, as air, water, steam, gases, light, heat, and elec-
tricity ; he should explain the nature of bodies in their three states,
solid, fluid, and aeriform, their characteristic properties, the laws of
composition and decomposition, of evaporation and condensation,
of combustion, oxidation, and many other chemical operations of
nature or art, which would receive additional interest from experi-
ments introduced for their illustration, or from instances of their ap-
plication to the arts of modern civilization. Dr. David B. Reid has
shown that the leading principles of this science may be easily
adapted to the most elementary instruction, and rendered accessible
to all classes of society, at such a moderate charge as will not pre-
vent those even in the humbler ranks from attending to them.

EXERCISES IN REFLECTION. 247

All investigations of nature, even those of the most elementary
kind, will be found of eminent service in developing and training the
mind to habits of observation, inquiry and reflection. They draw
attention to natural theology, and are highly calculated to elevate
the soul by the admiration which the wonders of creation can not
fail to excite, at the same time that they provide young people with
an inexhaustible source of mental enjoyment, and afford them posi-
tive advantages for the practical purposes of life. This is particu-
larly the case with chemistry, the application of which is so universal
and so immediately connected with the arts and all the wants of man.
" In this new magic," says Cuvier, " the chemist has only to wish :
every thing can be changed into any thing, and any thing can be
extracted from every thing." The minds of young persons will be
opened to a train of thinking, which, in some, may lead to most im-
portant results, if they are occasionally shown by experiments that
the infinite varieties of the material world are only different com-
pounds of a few elements.

The thoughts of children may also be directed to their bodily
frames, which present all the considerations of color, form, dimen-
sion, properties, uses, &c., belonging to matter. The teacher may
explain the functions of the sensitive, the vocal, and the muscular
organs, the utility of which can be made obvious to the youngest
child ; he may, as an example of that admirable adaptation to each
other of all the parts of the animal economy in man, show them how
beautiful is the mechanism of the hand, how wonderfully calculated
it is to execute the commands of the human mind. They will thus
be impressed with the consciousness of the infinite wisdom of Him
who, in making man superior to all other animals by his intellectual
powers, has given him the instrument with which he can exercise his
sovereignty over the creation.

From a consideration of the external organs he may pass to that
of the internal ; he may examine with his pupils the functions of the
stomach, the lungs, the heart, and the brain ; the structure of the
bones; the manner in which the different joints, muscles, nerves, and
vessels perform their office ; their mutual subserviency and happy
adaptation to the preservation, strength, motion of the body, in fact to
the whole constitution of man. Few subjects are more easily taught
orally than physiology and anatomy. The presence of the living
body precludes, to a great extent, the necessity of written descrip-
tions, of preparations, models, or skeletons. With instruction on
this subject should be combined explanations of the great hygienic
principles, the observance of which is indispensable. Young persons

248 CONVERSATIONS ON OBJECTS.

should be made acquainted with the constitution of the atmosphere,,
and with the relation of its elements to the functions of respiration,
and to the composition of the blood : they should be shown the in-
fluence of exercise on the muscles and bones, on digestion and circu-
lation. The}7 will be less tempted to violate the physical laws of
their nature, when they are aware of the consequences of the viola-
tion. They will better guard against accident or disease, when they
know in what manner the human constitution is influenced by air,
food, exercise, and moral causes. Every parent is bound to give to-
his children that information on which their future existence and
well-being so greatly depend. A knowledge of physiology more
universally diffused would be a check on medical quackery.

The close dependence and analogy which exist between the func-
tions of the physical and those of the mental faculties, will render
inquiries about the latter both easy and interesting. There is noth-
ing, for example, in our introductory Book which may not be made
as plain to children twelve or thirteen years old, as any other subject
of inquiry to which we have adverted. The study of the mind as
well as that of the body, is founded on familiar facts placed within
his powers of observation and discrimination. He can early be
made to consider the different states and actions of his own mind,
and to discriminate between attention and reflection, memory and
imagination, judgment and reasoning. He may be made to observe
what passes within himself when he receives perceptions, when he
associates ideas, when he compares and draws conclusions, when he
has desires and contracts habits. He can be shown when he applies
properly or otherwise his moral and intellectual faculties. He will
thus acquire a knowledge of himself and a habit of self-examination,
which will teach him how to use his faculties to the greatest advant-
age ; at the same time that it will make him feel his dignity as an
intellectual being and as a creature destined to immortality. " But,"
says Alison, " the great advantage which he will derive from in-
quiry into the laws of his own mind, is much less in the addition
which it gives to his own power or wisdom, than in the evidence
which it affords him of the wisdom with which his constitution is
framed, and the magnificent purposes for which it is framed."

ASSISTANTS AND DISCIPLES OF PESTALOZZI.

PESTALOZZI'S power, as a doer of good, was based upon his untirin^
energy and his impregnable benevolence and faith in human nature.
His intellectual endowments, in the endeavor to develop into a complete
sj'stem the principles which he felt so strongly, failed him, and he con-
tinually became obscure and contradictory. His method of instruction
was as spontaneously and unpremeditatedly the result of instinct, as the
benevolence which inspired him ; but he was unable to state its princi-
ples philosophically, or to develop his methodology logically.

Thus he was obliged to rely, to a degree unusual for the leader of a
great reform, upon assistants, even for the statement of his views, and
the details of his modes of operation ; and, accordingly, an account of
himself, and of his labors, must, in order to be complete, contain an ap-
parently excessive proportion of narrative relating to them.

In finding such assistants, Pestalozzi was remarkably fortunate. Nie-
derer, Schmid, Kriisi, Buss, Tobler, and many more of the numerous
teachers at Burgdorf and Yverdun, were all men of remarkable capacity,
either for some one department of investigation and instruction, or for
good qualities of mind and heart, which endeared them to Pestalozzi,
each other, and the pupils ; often for both. And still more remarkable
than such endowments is the eminent and persevering self-denial with
which some of them — as Niederer — giving up positions of comfort and
influence, already secured, entered the ill-managed and disorderly in-
stitution, and remained there, year after year, sometimes with small
salaries and sometimes with none, and not even always finding abund-
ance of ordinary food, through evil report and good report, until abso-
lutely convinced that their usefulness in it was ended. Nor was this all.
With the single exception of Schmid, Pestalozzi's teachers resigned to
him whatever of fame and profit might have come from the manuals they
compiled in their respective studies, and the books were published either
as by Pestalozzi himself, or as the productions of the institution. Ac-
counts of these assistants will be found in the following pages ; some of
them reasonably complete, but some, owing to the scarcity of accessible
materials, somewhat scanty.

The present work also contains short biographies of some of the more
prominent of those who were instrumental in propagating Pestalozzi's
views and methods in Germany. The introduction of his system into
Germany constitutes the most remarkable chapter in the history of
modern education.

Of this chapter, a portion, complete within itself, and both interesting

250 PREFACE.

and important, consists of the introduction of Pestalozzianism into the
\ingdom of Prussia.

During the subjugation of Germany under Napoleon, the minds of the
best and ablest of the Prussian statesmen and philosophers were most
eagerly occupied in inventing means which, if not available for an imme-
diate struggle for independence, should at once begin the work of raising
the moral, mental, and physical character of the nation to a standard of
elevated development, which might insure such a struggle in future, and
its success.

Among the instrumentalities used for this purpose, which, together,
amounted almost to an entire reorganization of the kingdom, the improve-
ment in education, resulting from the introduction of the Pestalozzian sys-
tem— and still more of the spirit of that system— occupied a prominent
place. To the King and Queen, to the ministry of education, to Fichte,
in short, to the most influential public men of that day, Pestalozzi's views
sec-mod to promise the happiest results ; and, with a rare liberality and
decision, measures were at once taken to prove them experimentally and
thoroughly.

Tln-se measures were two: the employment of an able Pestalozzian in
founding or reforming institutions already existing, and the sending to
Yverdun young men of promise, to draw their inspiration, as teachers,
from the fountain-head of the new method.

Carl August Zeller was chosen to perform the former task, and was, in
the year 1809, invited from Wirtemberg, where he had been laboring
zealously among the teachers to introduce the new method, to Konigs-
berg, in East Prussia, on terms honorable to the government and to him-
self. He was received with enthusiasm, and set himself earnestly to
work, lecturing, instructing, reorganizing, with untiring zeal, industry,
and efficiency. Notwithstanding a few errors of judgment, his labors
gave a great and lasting impulse to education in that portion of Prussia ;
and one at least of the institutions he founded, at Karalene (i. e., Livo-
nian for " Queen,") in the government of Gumbinnen, is yet useful as an
orphan-house and teachers' seminary.

The second measure taken by government was the sending of young
men to be educated as teachers in the Pestalozzian principles. Those se-
lected were mostly chosen from among the most promising of the theo-
logical students. Two, Marias Schmid and Dr. Harnisch,* were sent to
Plamann's institution, at Berlin ; the remaining ones, Henning, Dreist,
Kawerau, Kratz, Rendschmidt, Preuss, Patzig, Braun, Steger, Marsch,
•Ksionzek, the brothers Bernhard, and four already teachers by profes-
sion, Hanel, Titze, Runge, and Baltrusch, were sent to Yverdun at various
times during a series of years, their expenses being paid by government.
Upon their return, they were employed in various institutions for the
training of teachers, most of them with success. Thus a large body of

*Wilhelm Harnisch, the well-known educator, from whose •« Present Condition oft
Prussian Common School System." (.Leipzig. 1°44.) much of the information in *his article is
lerived.

PREFACE. • 251

competent instructors in the new method was, in a comparatively short
time, >rattered among the Prussian schools; the spirit of the Pestalozzian
method satisfied the needs of the age; and, with the powerful twofold
aid of popular favor and the earnest influence of the whole power of the
government, it speedily took possession of the entire common school sys-
tem. Every where, the authorities co-operated zealously with the teach-
ers under the new methods. Queen Louise, and under her influence the
King, took so deep an interest in the reform, that they often visited the
schools where it was introduced. The Queen, especially, often remained
in them for hours ; caused reports to be made to her on the progress of
the schools generally ; and was judicious and liberal in encouraging and
rewarding instructors and educators.

While these measures effectually inaugurated the new system, a share
of the credit of it is due to those teachers and school officers who,
though not themselves trained under Pestalozzi, and not always accept-
ing his methods of instruction, in every particular, yet entered fully into
his spirit, and labored in union with his more immediate disciples, with
a zeal and efficiency, perhaps, rather increased than decreased by the
free development of the individualities of their various views. Indeed,
one of the most valuable features of what may be called the Prussian-
Pestalozzian system, was its deliberate and careful but free advance to-
ward such improvements upon the system of Pestalozzi himself; a pro-
ceeding which has secured the highest excellence of the original system,
has added to it much that is valuable, has insured that vivid and inter-
ested activity in the teachers which is the first requisite of successful in-
struction, and has prevented the decay and deadness into which servile
followers of exclusive rules must necessarily fall.

The praises thus bestowed upon the Prussian common schools, as thus
reformed, reflect no blame upon those teachers and conductors who neg-
lected, or even opposed, the new methods. The principal among these
were followers of Basedow and the Philanthropists ; institutions of this
class were the Schnepfenthal Institution, and the Hartung School, and
the Real School, at Berlin ; and among the men were Nolte, Zerrenner,
and Dinter.*

The introduction of the Pestalozzian system into the schools of Prus-
sia, may be said to have been in progress from 1812 to 1825 ; at the end
of which time it had, substantially, possession of the whole common
school system. Dr. Harnisch enumerates, as among the chief advant-
ages resulting from it, 1. Patriotic feeling, causing more thorough study
of the German language, home geography, &c. ; 2. Giving a high value
and place to vocal music, as a study ; 3. The same of drawing, espe-
cially under the teachings of Peter Schmid ; 4. Introduction of thor-
ough musical instruction ; 5. Introduction, or readoption of thorough
system of bodily training.

* However strongly Dinter may have professed to hold on to tli^ <>!rl ways, no avowed Pes-
alozzian ever labored more devotedly in the spirit, i H| \v t!i the aims and methods of Pes-
tlozzi, as our readers will see in the memoir, p 2N

252 . PREFACE.

From Prussia the principles and practice of the school of Pestalozzt<
were widely diffused in other countries, through travelers, often coming
exclusively for the purpose of investigating the Prussian system, and
sometimes sent by foreign governments for the purpose. Dr. Harnisch
gives a long list of names of visitors to a single seminary only, mostly
of persons eminent in education, among which are mentioned those of
Hon. Horace Mann, and Profs. Stowe and Bache, from the United States.

The present occasion does not admit of any extended reference to the
further spread of Pestalozzianism. We can only say that prominent
among those who transferred the system into France, was Victor Cousin,
whose able report is well known ; and Chevalier Jullien, who, at an ear-
lier date, drew up an extended report upon the school of Yverdun, and
the educational principles and methods of Pestalozzi. The labors of Dr.
Biber, Mr. Greaves, and at a later date of Dr. Mayo and Miss Mayo, and
of Sir James Kay Shuttleworth, M. Tilleard, and Mr. Tait, have done much
to spread the system in England. And among its advocates and propa-
gators in America were William Russell, editor of the "American
Journal of Education ;" Warren Colburn, whose celebrated arithmetics
are strictly Pestalozzian ; A. Bronson Alcott ; W. C. Woodbridge, tho
geographer and editor of the "Annals;" and Lowell Mason, the veteran
and efficient instructor in vocal music.

FRIEDERICH FROBEL UPON PESTALOZZI,

LETTER TO THE PRINCESS-REGENT OF SCHWARZBURG-RUDOLSTADT,
April 27, 1809.

MAN AS THE SUBJECT OF EDUCATION.

PESTALOZZI'S principles of education and instruction and his pro-
ceedings, growing out of them, and the means for their application are
founded entirely upon the phenomena of his existence as a created
being.

Man as he is represented to us is a union of three chief attributes ;
body, soul, mind ; to cultivate these harmoniously and as a whole is his
object. Pestalozzi goes from this existence of man into the phenomena,
that is, from that which he is by. the sum of his powers and according
to his destiny (its suitable culture). Hence he takes man into consid-
eration according to this sum of his powers as a bodily, intellectual and
emotional being, and works upon him in this sum of his powers and for
their harmonious development and culture, from which first arises
that whole which is called man.

Pestalozzi, therefore, works not merely upon the bodily powers and
their development, not only upon the culture of the mind and its devel-
opment, nor only upon the soul and its development (although he is
accused of doing so), nor merely upon two of these at once, as body and
mind, or body and soul, or soul and mind. No ! Pestalozzi develops
man, works upon man in the totality of his powers.

Man in his manifestations must run through three principal epochs,
according to his powers ; that of the body, that of the soul, that of the
mind ; he runs through them not separated, or singly, so that he first
runs through that of the body, then that of the soul, and at last that of
the mind ; no, these epochs are convertible in the man developed in per-
fectly undisturbed natural relations ; their circular course returns ever
again, and the more so the more perfect the man becomes — until the
limits of his powers as well as of their development fall away and are
removed, and the continuous whole — man — stands before us.

It would be highly unjust, therefore, to say of Pestalozzi that be de-
veloped men, the powers of men, each power separately at three differ-
•ent epochs, first the body, then the soul, and then the mind, since he
really takes them all into view at once in harmonious and brotherly
union, and although he seems, perhaps, for the time to be treating
merely the physical powers, he is observing and taking into considera-
tion equally the influence of this treatment upon mind and soul.

He has man as a whole in his eye, as an unseparated and inseparable
whole, and in all that he does and wishes to do for him and his culti-
vation, he does it for him as a whole. At no time does he act only for
4

254 FllCi-ILSEL ON PESTALOZZI.

the development of one power, leaving the others without nourishment ^
for example, he never is acting for the mind alone and leaving uncon-
sidered, unsatisfied and uncared for and in inaction the body and the
soul ; all the powers are cared for at all times.

But often one or other of the three great divisions of man's nature
stands forth and apparently dominates the others.

Pestalozzi takes into view man according to and in his manifestation,
according to the laws of nature and those which are grounded in the
mind of man, when he works specially upon the predominant power ;
it is not done in an isolated and divided way, but in order to work
through his treatment upon the other equal but slumbering and resting
powers. So, for example, in one and the same epoch upon the senses,,
through these upon the body, and through these again upon the feel-
ings, and so in a perpetual round.

Pestalozzi takes man according to his manifestation. But man does
not manifest himself alone, for and through himself; he manifests
himself under conditions determined by nature and by his mother, and
both these united — that is, by love.

So the man becomes child, that is, the sum and substance of the love
of the father and mother.

Pestalozzi then wishes to develop and cultivate the man in his mani-
festation as child, through the conditions under which he appears, that
is, the love of the father and mother. We think of the father and
mother as united by love in order to exalt the child, i. e., the sum of
their love, into an independent being by means of education.

Can there be a truer, more careful nurse and developer of this love
made visible, this independent essence, this child, than the father and
the mother, than the two united by mutual love, to which the child
owes his existence — indeed, whose sum and substance the child is ?

Pestalozzi thus wishes only what nature and the being of man
wishes ; he wishes that man in his manifestation as child shall be de-
veloped by his father and mother, and in their mutual love be culti-
vated throughout and educated according to his capacities as a corporeal,
feeling and intellectual being.

MAN IN HIS MANIFESTATION AS A CHILD.

The existence of mind and soul in the child is expressed merely by
simple life.

Mind and soul appear limited by and in the mass, the body — for
still all parts in the body are one ; the mind and the senses by which
the world without works through the body upon the mind and soul are
not yet distinguishable.

The body of the child is still a mass ; it appears so tender and frail,
so much too material and awkward for the mind and the soul of the
child, yet slumbering and weak, to work through it.

By degrees the senses, feeling, sight, etc., develop and separate.

FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZi. 255.

The child feels the warmth of the mother's breast and the breath of
her loving lips ; it smiles (the first appearance of the soul, the first sign
of the soul's existence).

The child perceives the mother ;' it feels her nearness, her distance,
etc. ; the child louks (the first appearance of mind — the first sign of its
existence).

At the moment of the beginning of this separation of the senses, the-
true mother works upon the unfolding and development of the child
according to its various capacities ; the love of the mother makes the
child feel, see, hear.

Thus are developed, without giving any account of themselves —
yielding only to holy feeling, to the demands of their nature — the
senses of the child, which are the paths to its mind and soul.

Here is the third point, where Pestalozzi takes into account the par-
ents— where he appeals to them with the view of exalting the being of
their love to the higher life, to conscious independence — where he gives-
them means and guidance to develop and cultivate the capacities of
their child.

What Pestalozzi wishes as means of development he had pointed out
in his Book for Mothers, which many have misunderstood and which
is yet the highest which can be given to man, the most loving feeling
could create, the highest and best gift which he could bestow in the
present circumstances upon his brethren and sisters.

What Pestalozzi expresses in that book are only suggestions of what
lies in his soul, as a great, glorious, living and unspeakable whole.

His soul felt the joys of heaven in his intuition of the perception of
the father and mother following the call of nature by the education of
their children. Overpowered by this heavenly joy, he sat down and
wrote, not for word-catchers and quibblers — no ! he wrote for parents,
for fathers, for mothers, who he thought would conceive and feel as he
did, to whom he only needed to point out what they should do, what
they could do, and how they could do it.

The highest object of recognition, of the intuition of mind and soul
to man, is humanity.

Pestalozzi took pleasure, in his Book for Mothers, in pointing out to
man what he wished ; and, in order to point out all that he wished,
could he choose anything higher and more perfect than man, whose
body is destined for the earth and whose being is destined for heaven ?
That he chose the highest, the most perfect thing, is now made a re-
proach to him !

But is there a more glorious, more exalted, more beautiful, more
worthy object of observation and recognition than man ? — and is not
the body the house of our spirit, which is destined for eternity and for
communion with God? Can it, as he himself says, be contrary to nat-
ure to learn to know it early, to respect it early, to rejoice in it early,
that it may be made holy for us ? Can it, as they charge Pestalozzi,

256 FROE13EL ON 1'ESTALOZZl.

be contrary to nature to orient one's self early in the house where
one dwells ?

As I stand before you, it cannot be my aim to contradict the objec-
tions of Pestalozzi's opposers, who for the most part misunderstand
him, since I am merely striving to represent literally the essence of
Pestalozzi's fundamental efforts according to his own representation ;
I merely say that a great part of the objections made to these efforts
consists in this; that Pestalozzi, for various reasons, errs very much
when he enlists the child himself in the first cognition and develop-
ment of himself and the man, and even starts from the body of the
child.

But how can it be a crime; how can it be against nature to re-
spect the body early, to learn early to know the body and its use, the
use to which we all owe everything, by which alone we learn to know
the world without, which helps us to sustain and battle for our life, as
it helps us to recognize God, to do good, and to rescue our brothers and
sisters with strong arms from the brink of perdition?

' Truly, whoever wishes to teach the child to respect his body must
respect himself ; if he wishes to learn to know it, he must know him-
self ; whoever wishes to instruct in the use of it, must know it himself,
all this must come to his consciousness ; whoever works to make the
child feel the sacredness of his body, to himself it must be sacred !

Indeed, no man could understand Pestalozzi who had not in his soul,
when this elementary book first fell into his hands, that which Pesta-
lozzi felt to be exalted in humanity ; to him those principles were dead
forms without sense or significance, and afterwards one person, perhaps
without examination, repeated the judgment of another who seemed to
•him well-informed.

But were all these men parents to whom Pestalozzi spoke ? Noble
Princess, if I were not afraid of wearying you, I could say much upon
the excellence and the principles of Pestalozzi, of the man himself ; I
only permit myself to express one thing of which I am deeply per-
suaded in my own mind.

Many a young man and boy, powerful by the nature of their collec-
tive capacities, would not have lost his powers in the bloom of his youth,
if his parents or teachers had followed in his education the principles
laid down by Pestalozzi in his Book for Mothers.

Many a young man would have known how to be a useful and esti-
mable subject, in the years of his ripeness and understanding, if his
body could have fulfilled the requisitions of his mind and heart.

Pestalozzi's Book for Mothers is only a suggestion of what he wishes
to do ; he wrote significantly ; " or a guide for mothers in the observa-
tion of their children, and to teach them to speak."

But man is not the only thing upon earth ; the whole outward world
is the object of his recognition, and the means for his development and
culture.

FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZI. 257

Pestalozzi said, therefore, and still says : " As I have shown you that
you can bring man by degrees through gradual development of the
child to the conscious inspection and recognition of tlie world without,
so bring every other object of the world without to his inspection and
recognition, every object which approaches the child, which lies in his
circle, in his world, as he himself lies in this world ! "

Scarcely does it seem possible that herein can lie anything contrary
to nature, difficult to be recognized, or difficult to be carried out, and
yet the opponents of Pestalozzi find more than all this in it. Pestalozzi's
opponents reproach him strongly that he merely speaks of this obser-
vation and recognition.

But we observe with all our senses, and how could Pestalozzi believe
that any one would accuse him, when he used the word observation, of
meaning simple observation with the eyes ?

The Book for Mothers is to teach the mother, in the first place, to
develop and to cultivate the senses of the child both singly and in their
harmonious united working. In the second place, it is to show how and
in what natural series of steps, one may bring the objects of the world
in which he lives to the observation and recognition of the child. In the
third place, it is to put the mothers and the teachers in a condition to
teach the child the use and destination of his powers and capacities,
as well as the use and design of the objects of the world without ; and
to bring them to his consciousness.

And in all this they accuse Pestalozzi of expressing one-sided princi-
ples and methods of instruction, although it is surely impossible to
fulfill the conditions he requires without developing and cultivating
man in all the directions of his great powers.

Others came forward and said, Pestalozzi would have dead words and
repetitions ; what he gives is dead and therefore killing. Still others
came forward and said what Pestalozzi wishes the child to know
should be taught him earlier and better ; they point to the number of
children's books that have appeared for every age, and for children of
all conditions ; to the books that have been written on natural history,
on excursions, journeys, stories and picture books of all kinds, etc.

By all these means that has not been done which Pestalozzi wishes
to have done. Everything is given to the child prepared and related,
so that his understanding has no work to do.

The powers of the child's mind are not rendered active and self-
forking. The understanding of the adult has already prepared every-
thing so that the activity of the child's understanding and recognition
are left without employment. The consequence of this is weakness
•of mind and especially of the self-acting judgment of the child, and his
•egress out of his own inner world instead of making him at home in it
and acquainted with it.

They have also reproached Pestalozzi for the form of his Book for
Mothers. But when he wrote, it was not his opinion that the father,

25S FltOEBEL ON PESTALOZZ1.

mother, teacher, whose hand-book he designed it to be, would neces-
sarily confine himself strictly and anxiously to his representations. He
strove only to represent what was essential in general, so far as this was
possible for him to do so, and to touch upon all parts of the whole.

Some complained in regard to the book that the sequence was not
logical enough ; but Pestalozzi wished neither to establish a strong logi-
cal sequence, nor, still less, to confine the use and application of it.

What Pestalozzi had really contemplated was in the opinion of others
too precise and stiff.

Although it was hardly possible that Pestalozzi should not begin his
list of the parts of the human body with the head, he did not say that
if other parts, the hand for example, should attract the attention of the
child, it should be withdrawn from that and directed to the head
because that happened to stand first in the book. Pestalozzi says
expressly, the peculiar Book for Mothers is the nature of the child in its
manifestations.

I know a mother who has treated her child now two and a quarter
years old in the spirit of Pestalozzi, and according to his meaning. It
is delightful and exalting to the heart to see that mother and child.

And surely the object of that mother's activity, the inner life of her
soul, could not permit her through her love for her child, indeed, would
make it impossible for her, to follow to the letter the directions in
Pestalozzi's book ; yet this mother did not find his writings contrary to
nature, nor killing to the mind of her child ; no ! It was what Pesta-
lozzi wished that she comprehended in her inmost soul. It is a joy to
see that child with his angelic voice, his childlike innocence, and his
love not only for his mother, but for everything that surrounds him.

It is the highest enjoyment to see how at home the child is in his
world, how continually active and occupied he is in it. He stands now
at a higher point of knowledge and acquaintance with the world around
him, but uninjured in his innocent childishness.

This child lives a gentle inner life ; he rejoices inwardly in awaken-
ing nature, and seizes everything with attention that strikes his senses
which his early awakened powers of body and mind make easily pos-
sible to him. The mother followed Pestalozzi ; what she did she did by
following his meaning. It is not possible in the working of these prin-
ciples to see the limits of the culture of body, soul and mind.

Often and willingly has this mother said, who always strove to do her
duty before she knew of Pestalozzi, that from Pestalozzi she had
learned how to be a mother.

Pestalozzi's Book for Mothers would have been much less unjustly
judged if the second part had yet appeared. It is still wanting, alas !
Pestalozzi has not expressed his idea fully in its application ; this is an
important view which every one should take before forming a judgment^

As much and even more should be taken into consideration in judg-
ing of the book, is that what Pestalozzi wishes is not limited to the

FKOEBEL ON 1'KSTALOZZI. ?59

time when the faculty of speech appears in the child, or even wnen it
actually begins to speak; no! it begins in the working and application
at the moment when the child perceives outward impressions decid-
edly, that is, discriminates between light and darkness. The mother
must already have taught the child to observe everything, to separate
everything which conies within the circle of his life, before the peculiar
moment of time when the development of language begins.

I know children so treated who were a year and a halt' old before they
began to speak, but who could discriminate between all things that
immediately surrounded them, and appeared to have distinct and quite
significant conceptions of everything. If the child has been so treated
it has the very essential and useful advantage, when it does begin to
speak, of knowing well the objects it is about to name, and hence needs
not to divide its powers but can apply them unitedly in the naming of
them. It can now make important progress in speaking, and this is
really the case with such children.

The Book for Mothers first gave a guide for teaching the child to
observe that language is the medium of sympathy.

The mother must work according to nature, at the same time upon
the child's capacity for language and its development. To elevate the
social life between mother, father and child, the mother widens the
child's power of language. The father, the mother, the members of
the family, now teach the child the meaning of the language they speak,,
that they may mutually understand each other more easily, and sympa-
thize about everything that surrounds them.

But Pestalozzi not only wishes that everything that happens uncon-
sciously shall be brought to the consciousness, that that which has hap-
pened shall not be left to chance, but that it shall happen consecutively, .
all-sidedly and comprehensively, and in conformity with the developing
progress of the child.

The meaning of language which Pestalozzi now wishes to have the"
child learn is the meaning of it in the closest sense, the special mean-
ing; for only from the knowledge of the particular and individual
thing can man rise to the knowledge and command of the universal.

The child is taught then the meaning of every single word, every sin-
gle expression. The manner in which this is done lies darkly in the
demands of human nature, but the Book for Mothers gives this guidance
in the first place.

According to Pestalozzi the child is now to learn by observation, for
example, the meaning of contrasted words which it either hears or even
speaks already intelligibly; as dark, bright; heavy, light; black, white ;
transparent, opaque ; there, here ; furniture, tool ; animal, stone ; go,
sit ; run, creep ; coarse, fine ; more, less ; one, many ; living, dead ;
prick, cut, etc. Pestalozzi here shows particularly how contrast, which
he always designates as to be found in every conception, is special1.-
cultivating.

260 FRoKisi.i. <>N ri-:> i M.-././I.

Thus far the mother has developed the child's capacity of language
according to Pestalozzi's method ; she has taught it to speak. But now
before she carries it farther, she and other members of her family
ni -I <t cultivate this capacity.

The speaking of the child rises by degrees to connected language.
The child knows and raises itself to a determined knowledge of the
meaning of all that it sj>eaks.

By all that th" mother has hitherto done for the child, it is now in a
condition to know precisely the objects with \vhich it is surrounded, to
observe them singly, to separate them from each other. Its power to
observe is perfectly awakened, and in full activity. The circle of its
knowledge widens as its world widens; it accompanies its mother
wherever her employments call her. It is continually led to know more
objects of the surrounding world. The objects themselves stand forth
more and more prominently.

It recognizes intelligibly what was hitherto unknown and unsepa-
rated, and still lies partly so, and will continue to be more or less so un-
til it consciously surveys a fixed portion of the outward world, and free
and independent of that world, can again create and represent it.

To raise the child to this perfectly conscious recognition of the out-
ward world, must hence be the object of its mother's striving. The
glorious kingdom of nature now opens by degrees to the child ; led by
its mother's hand it enters that glorious kingdom. Nature is now its
world ; the child creates nature from its world.

A hundred little stones, a hundred little plants, flowers, leaves, a hun-
dred little animals, innumerable objects of nature accompany its steps;
its heart beats loudly. It finds friends, it carries about and takes care
of objects ; but it does not know why it is happy, why it carries about
and takes care of these objects, why its heart beats so loudly. Should
these impressions be allowed to vanish without having been firmly
retained ?

According to Pestalozzi, the mother now teaches the child to perceive
these objects on all sides, to recognize all their qualities, that is, \\ ith
the help of all their senses ; she teaches it to use its observation upon
the whole aspect of them, and to give an account of them to others.

The child now holds firm points to which it can fasten its joy, —
sound, motion, shape, form, smoothness, etc. It sees the connection of
these qualities and a hundred others to qualities partly determinable, or
merely supposable ; so that the child is now first conscious of its joy.

How happy is the child now whom its mother has made conscious of
all these impressions, so that he possesses a* firm point by which the
outward world stands in contact with him, so that he does not remain
in the dark with his heart oppressed with feeling ; so that he does not
wander in a mist like the traveler who journeys through a pleasing
country on a spring morning when nature is partly wrapped in vapor
and shows him the light that gleams through it, promising a delightful

. i:i. ON !•;

261

A> man longingly wait> tWthf dispersion of the mist by the
nyso! thi- sun, so that the objects of nature may appear in light and
elearn.-ss, so the child \\aits for the guidance of the loving mother who
will explain to him the rapture of his heart and show him why he re-
joi'vs in anticipation.

What a calling for the mother! She teaches the child to become
ious of his joys, of the objects of his delight ; she teaches it how
to give an account of all it sees and feels, to express it in words and to
it with others.

The mother thus raises the child into a creature of intelligence and

ng; she teaches him the qualities of objects; she listens to every

remark, every discovery, every word of her child ; she rejoices when he

lejoices; she receives his love and sympathy in her own breast, she

locates it and guides it with delight.

As the nature of the child receives life and significance thus, so the lan-
which the child, the mother, the father, the family speaks, receives
life and significance. Every word becomes an object, an impression, a
picture; to every word the child joins a world, a cycle of impressions;
he goes in his remarks upon the qualities of things, from the easier to
cue more difficult, from the simple to the complex; he loves to seek and
find it all himself; "Dear mother, let me find it myself," he says.
Often have I with joy and light-heartedness heard children make this
prayer with shining, sparkling eyes !

I iter, the mother leads her child to classifying similar things (which
it tends to do of itself) and to discriminating between different things;
thus the child learns to compare what it sees.

The child besides observing, also imitates. Imitation betters and
perfects his observations. The mother not only allows this imitation,
she not only rejoices in it, but she aids it.

The child likes above all things to imitate the sound which it has
evoked from some inanimate object perhaps, or which it seems to him
to produce. It tries to imitate the sound of everything, falling, jump-
ing, breathing, moving. All the objects of nature, animate and inani-
mate, seem to emit sounds ; they speak audibly to him. The mother
rejoices in the child's delight when in the spring it imitates the sounds
of nature, and she challenges him to do it ; she does it unconsciously
when her impulse to do it is not disturbed. Who has not seen a poor
mother playing with her child or heard her say, " What does the sheep
do? What does the dog say, the ox, the bird?" The child's imita-
tions increase ; it imitates the twittering of the bird, and thus its own
human tone is awakened.

If the mother sings, and accompanies the song of the birds with her
human tones, he will imitate this, and thus will not only his feeling be
awakened for the highest human expression, song, but his whole being
A exalted, from the humming of the bees to the representation of hi»
jwn feelings by simple, connected and varied human tones.

FKoi:ui:i. UN PK8TALOZZI,

I" he outward world is now no longer to the child, guided I >\ 1 Y-stalozzi's
method, the chaotic, confused, misty mass, which it was earlier. 1. It
is iiow individualized. ± What is separated it can name. ;\. It can
seize it at a glance independent of other relations, and according t<> it-.
relation to himself and to others. 4. It can designate what it ota
and all its relations 1>\ language; it can speak and knows the meaning
of the language of its parents. 5. It knows an object not only oil
side but on several sides. 6. It can take an object in at a glance in
many relations. 7. It can compare one object with another and recog-
nize the peculiar qualities of each.

Ideas of Number.

The first general quality of objects is their computability. Objects
are now individually separated to the child's mind, consequently follow-
ing each other in time and thus appear computable.

The mother now teaches her child to recognize the computability of
objects, and to separate the qualities and relations of computable objects
in nature, with real objects before it, and not first by counting in an
abstract manner.

By the exercises arranged by Pestalozzi the mother brings to the
consciousness of the child something which hitherto was merely an
obscure presentiment, scarcely a conscious feeling ; she brings the con-
ception of number, the precise knowledge of the qualities and relations
of the computable, to his clear, intelligible consciousness.

The mother teaches the child that one stone and again one stone are
two stones, etc.

Farther, she teach' s him to know the value of numbers by the oppo-
site process, for example, ten nuts less one nut are nine nuts.

Already this little exercise has brought conversation to life between
mother and child, when, for example, in the first case, she says to the
child, " Lay down two flowers and one flower ; how many flowers have
you? how many times one flower have you? how many times two
flowers have you ? " etc.

Or, in the second case, for the solving of numbers, she says to the
child, " Put away one of your six beans ; now how many have you ?
how many times one bean have you still ? "

The mother goes a step farther ; she now lets him add two, three and
four ; for example : "One stone and two stones are three stones."

The child learns by observation that 5 are 5 times 1, are 4 and 1, and
3 and 2.

Or, 1 and 3 are 4, 4 and 3 are 7, 7 and 3 are 10 objects.

The mother then goes backwards over the same ground. For exam-
ple : if you take 2 from 15, 13 remain.

Questions enliven and elevate conversation between the mother and
Child.

The mother may work in the field or in the house ; the child sits near

Ki;"i-:iJKi. OS i-K>i AI.C/.ZI. 263

and plays with stones or flowers. The mother asks : " When you put
'2 Ho \\ers to 1, how many have you?"

All this is play to the child ; it handles its favorite objects ; it moves
th.-in about, and sees a purpose in doing it, for in all its plays the child
gives itself a problem. The child is with its mother, so it is happy,
And its mind and feelings are awakened.

When the child knows how to count in these different ways, and
knows the qualities of numbers thus represented, it will soon find that
the pea 1-at' has L} times 2 little leaves, and the rose leaf 2 times 3 little
leaves. A hint to the mother, and she carries her child still another
step in the knowledge of computation. The child has several single
objects around it. " Place your little blocks," the mother says, " so
that 2 will lie in every heap. Have you done it? Count how many
times - you have." The child will count : " I have 2 times 2, 3 times 2,
or I have 1 time 2 ;" or it will say perhaps a little later, " I have 1
two heap ; 2 two heaps," etc.

The mother goes farther and says : " Place your things so that 3 or 4
or 5 will lie together, and tell me how many times 3 or 4 or 5, etc., you
have." [She selects one of these numbers, of course. We omit many
similar exercises in numbers now familiar to kindergartners.]

FORM.

So Pestalozzi would have the mother teach the child form in its play.

• 11 re is a lath — it is straight; here is a branch — it is crooked."
The child remarks the laths on the fence, the prongs on the rake ; they
are at equal distances from each other. His mother tells him they are
parallel. The ribs on the leaf of the large plantain unite in a point;
they are radiating. The child goes into the woods with its mother ; it
sees the fir trees and the pines, it is pleased with the variety ; and it
knows how to describe it. The needles of the fir tree are parallel, those
of the pine unite in a point.

The child observes the relations of the branches to the stem. Its
mother has taught it to observe angles. The branches and the stems
form angles, but these joinings of branch and stem make in one tree
quite a different impression upon the child from those in another tree.
How delighted it now is to recognize this variety, so that it has a firm
point to which it can fasten its impressions. It is the greater or less
inclination of the branch to the stem. So in the surroundings in nature,
which is its world it recognizes, led by its mother, it sees 3 or 4, or
many cornered forms. The intersection of the hemlock twig forms a
regular pentagonal (or five corners). The mother leads the child to a
regular comparison of this form and to seek its variety.

The child will soon pluck leaves and find other objects in view of their
forms, and with childish critical senses will separate them from the ob-
jects to which they belong. He will po farther than I venture to describe.

" See, mother, what round leaves I have found," and the child shows

261

/ FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZI.

the mother many such leaves, of larger and smaller sizes, which he has
picked. " See how little this one is, and how big this one is ! " he thus
leads himself to the contemplation of size. A hint, a word from the
mother, and the child has received a new item of culture.

He selects three leaves, lays them upon each other, and says : " That
is the largest leaf, that is smaller, but that is the smallest."

" Mother, look at this long stalk. The staik of the flax is only half
as long," he will perhaps say, if he has learned the meaning of the
word half. Or, after the mother has laid the flax upon the corn stalk,
he will say, " this is 2 times as long," or perhaps as long again as that
one, or he breaks a pear leaf in the middle, lengthwise, and finds both
halves equally long; perhaps he cannot describe what he finds and his
mother tells him that these two parts of a whole are called halves, and
thus widens the circle of his knowledge again.

Pestalozzi wishes to make known intelligibly in small things the at-
tributes of form as well as the recognition of the foundation of its.
qualities.

The child will lead on the attentive mother and father still farther.

The child will soon come to the consideration of large equal objects
in comparison with large unequal objects ; he will find that a part is
smaller than the whole, the whole is larger than a part.

Objects of nature as well as of art will lead the child to this com-
parison.

Everything in his circle, in his world, will thus become means of in-
formation, material for development.

If the child is in its earliest years where the mother is, and rightly
guided, it costs but a suggestion from her and it can busy itself many
hours.

It accumulates objects, arranges and investigates them ; it is quiet
and happy.

One will scarcely realize that fee cLuH is occupied, and yet the powers
of its soul and mind are coming lorward and developing themselves by
practice.

In this way all the capacities and powers of the child are now devel-
oped according to Pestalozzi's method ; his senses cultivated, his inner
and outer being exalted to true life ; he errs no more unconsciously as
one enveloped in mist ; the way is open for every kind of knowledge,
every shade of feeling. Sympathy, that beautiful attribute of man, is
possible to him in its whole scope ; his language is formed.

With deepest love he hangs upon the glance of his mother, his father
— the parents to whom he owes all this joy.

All which has thus far been done by the mother was the object of the
Book for Mothers, and suggested by it; at least this is what Pestalozzi
wished for as belonging to the calling of the mother.

Pestalozzi wishes that the child shall live in this manner seven happy,,
delightful years.

FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZI. 265-

The child has now, thus guided, received its culture through the
mother, for what is now in the child, what now transports it will always
jllive in it, will give value to its life, dignity to its being. She now sur-
renders it fully prepared to the father, the parental teacher, or to his^
representative, the school-master, for definite instruction, definite
teaching. ,

The instruction which the father or school-master will now give to
the child will join on where the mother ended.

The child should find no other difference between this teaching and
that of its mother; now every object stands singly, all instruction has
I a determined time. The manner of handling the subjects of instruc-
tion must be in harmony with that of its mother.

Man as a Scholar.

[The next division of this article upon Pestalozzi is entitled MAN AS
A SCHOLAR, and in it Frobel describes minutely Pestalozzi's mode o*
teaching everything :]

Language — the mother tongue in reference to its meaning, the formal
part of language ; descriptions of nature, of the products of art, of the
earth's surface. Second course of geographical instruction, the knowl-
edge of numbers, forms, size, singing, drawing (Schmidt's method;,
reading, writing.

This instruction is not given from books, but from life, observation
of nature, walks, examination of works of art and use, etc., etc.

INTRODUCTION OF THIS METHOD INTO THE SCHOOLS.

The demands which Pestalozzi makes upon the teacher are simple and s
natural ; they are founded in the nature of the teacher as well as in the ~*
nature of the scEoIari Therefore they will be intelligible and easy of
execution and representation to every teacher, even the country school-
teacher, who can unite good will with power and understanding, as soon
as he has suitably prepared himself in the method. Tt is the same with
the subjects which Pestalozzi wishes to have taught. They go from
the simple, their march is connected in a determined sequence lying in
the~~na£ure of every subject of instruction. If the teacher has been
taught only the first point, the nature and essence of his subject, through
observation in his own practice, he can not only proceed easily according
to the demand of that subject, but even instruct the scholar in it con-
secutively.

The teacher with good will and the impulse to perfect himself (and
upon what teacher who wishes to perfect others would not this requisi-
tion be made ?) will very soon perceive with the utmost joy the glorious
effects of the Pestalozzian method upon himself; he will find it
grounded in his nature. The Pestalozzian principles will thus become
his own ; they will flow into his whole life ; and thus he will express it
with mind, love, warmth, life and freedom in all his acts, and instruct

266 FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZl.

and represent it to his scholars according to their needs, as to his own
children and brethren.

There would be few difficulties in introducing Pestalozzi's method
into the schools, if teachers, and those who feel it their destiny to be
such, should make themselves familiar at his institution with his princi-
ples, and should acquire the readiness and dexterity in applying them,
which they could do on the spot. Supposing that they know and honor
the duties and demands of their calling, strive to fulfill tht-m with all
their power, and, thinking for themselves, not act mechanically, tjbeir
efforts would be facilitated by the Pestalozzian method ; in the first
place because it corresponds to their natures as well as to that of their
pupils, and again because its workings will fill them and their pupils
with inward joy and exhilarating pleasure ; it would enable them to
fulfill their calling not only with love and joy, but with power and
enthusiasm. They will not be behindhand in their own self-perfecting
when they teach their scholars, even the lowly among the people, even
the preliminary points of every subject ; they will have the opportunity
for thought whereby their own minds will be farther developed. Their
human hearts, their loving souls, will be filled with nourishment. They
will never be machines even when they are teaching the simplest thing ;
for they will never depend upon arbitrarily given rules, followed every
•day regularly without farther thought. Indeed, if they wish to teach
according to Pestalozzi's principles, it will be necessary to think, jso that
what they teach will be living and active in itself, and be. presented
livingly and glowingly so as to awaken life and activity in others.

By their knowledge of this method, the teachers, ir> order to under-
stand its introduction, will make it not only possible to fulfill their duty
far more comprehensively and better than before, but will find their
work much facilitated by it, for by its conformity to nature it bears
within itself the quality that every advanced scholar will be able to
teach and instruct others. Very essential and many-sided advantages
will arise out of this to both scholars and schools.

1. All the scholars will be, according to their needs and at all times,
employed under a teacher, will be always under inspection, and never
left to themselves or to indolence, a thing so common in schools, but
will be at all times engaged in their development and culture.

2. For the instructed and assistant pupils will themselves penetrate
deeper into the method, and hence be better able to comprehend the
teaching they will receive. Their power of thought and judgment will
be in continual exercise, their feelings and souls will have the opportu-
nity to practice love and ready service, and thus, while upon one side
their understandings will be cultivated, on the other they will rise to
practical humanity. The school itself will thus be sustained like a
family, the teacher of which is the father, the pupils of which are the
children ; these will be like brothers and sisters of the same family, in
which the weaker will be sustained by the stronger.

FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZI. 267

Whose heart does not be.it quickly to see the schools of his beloved
fatherland thus exalted?

The assistant teacher will receive thus the most highly essential
advantage ; he must never weaken his powers by frittering .them away,
that he may always be able to devote them wholly to the department
taught by him.

The school receives this essential advantage — that unity reigns in the
whole instruction. So much more important progress will the pupils
make. The school can thus naturally answer perfectly to the demands
of the parents, the children always be suitably and directly employed,
and all things work together for their culture.

The instruction will thus gain in life, interest and variety by every
xilass of the pupils being occupied specially and particularly according
to their ages.

If we were to take into consideration the wants of the people in the
arrangement and application of subjects of instruction in the people's
schools and the country schools, a teacher in a country or village school,
supported by some of his most capable pupils, could fulfill the demands
of Pestalozzi for eighty or more scholars by seven hours of daily in-
struction (two afternoons being excepted).

Since the child is first capable at eight years of age of being treated
as a scholar, according to Pestalozzi's principles, if hitherto but little
nas been done for his development by his parents and his mother, a
fixed time, to fall between the sixth and seventh year, must be arranged
t by local conditions to receive him into the school in order to supply
what the first education at home has neglected.

Therefore at first all the children who go to the school will be divided
into two principal classes or divisions.

The first division will constitute the children's class, and these pupils
will be under eight years of age. The manner of their treatment wilt
be determined by their age, for they are children in the narrow sense
of the word ; they have not emerged from the circle determined by the
foregoing representation of the Book for Mothers.

The second division will consist of the school classes, and the pupils
will be from eight years up to the age in which they usually leave school.
The manner of their treatment is determined by Pestalozzi's method of
instruction.

This second division must be divided again into two parts ; into the
lower class in which the pupils are at all events from eight to eleven
years old, and the upper class which contains the pupils from eleven
years of age to the end of the school time. The whole school would be
divided then into three classes ; the first or child's class ; the second or
lower school class ; the third or upper school class.

According to this division of the classes the following subjects of n^"
•instruction are possible :

The second class could receive two hours' instruction in the descrip-

268 FKOEBEL ON PESTALOZZI.

tion of nature ; the third class two hours in natural history. In this-
way the pupils become acquainted not only with the greater part of the-
natural products of their fatherland, particularly of the region in which
they live, but also of the foreign natural products of essential impor-
tance to that region.

The second class could devote two hours in the week to the descrip-
tion of products of art; the third class two hours to technology. And
here what is essential to the pupils in the circle in which they live is
alone necessary.

Then two hours of description of the earth for the second class, and-
two hours of knowledge of different countries. The second class could,
give one of these hours in the middle of the week to a walk. Thus
they would learn to know Germany (its physical limits) and especially
the Thuringian valley accurately, and have a general view of Europe.

In the description of other countries, they are taught the products of.
nature and art in each country, the manner of life and system of gov-
ernment of the inhabitants, and the relations of every land and of the
inhabitants of each to the territories in which they live.

The fatherland of the pupils stands first in importance in all these
three topics.

The second class can have six hours of arithmetic. The third class
also six hours of the same. In the second class it will be chiefly men-
tal arithmetic, in the third class chiefly ciphering or written arithmetic
(on the slate).

The second class can have four hours upon the theory of forms and
drawing ; the third class four hours in geometry and drawing. To fix
more sharply the relation of the hours for arithmetic, theory of forms,
geometry and drawing, a part should be precise local knowledge, a part
dependent upon what knowledge the pupils of the child's class in the
•lower school class already have.

The second class can have six hours of reading and mother tongue ;.
the third class four hours of the formal theory of language.

The exercises in beautiful handwriting can be connected afterwards
with grammatical exercises.

The third class needs neither special hours for reading or writing,
because the pupils have been firmly grounded in these before they
passed into the third class. To practice and cultivate themselves more
in both, they find sufficient opportunity in writing upon the other topics.

The second class can have three hours in singing, and the third class
the same.

Lastly, the second class can have six hours of religious instruction,
and the third class nine hours. In the third class this consists of the
reports of the preaching, passages of scripture and songs ; in the recita-
tion of Bible texts and songs, not only in the words but in the signiiie^r
tion which the pupil has given to both.

The particulars of the instruction in the first or child's class I pass:

FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZi. £69

over, since the subjects, as well as their treatment, are designated in the
way in which they are represented.

•In no other than the Pestalozzian method can the child be employed
in such a variety of ways, or in so few hours could such a goal be
reached on every topic.

According to Pestalozzi's meaning and principles, no topic should ^
stand isolated ; only in organic union do they lead to the desired goal,
which is the cultivation and education of the child and pupil.

This suggestion for the assignment of hours and subjects is only
made for the country schools ; for the city schools, there are generally
three regular teachers for greater perfection of instruction.

But the organization of a school according to Pestalozzi's principles
makes two essential requisitions ; first, that the children of the school
age can only be received into the school at two fixed seasons ; and that
all school children, except iu the vacations, shall come to school punctu-
ally and uninterruptedly. If a single hour is neglected by the pupil, it
is never possible to make it wholly up without great disadvantage to
his companions in that topic, since this method makes a steady advance
and is characterized by a continuous progress.

All the faults which hitherto may be found in country and city
schools are prevented by the introduction of this method.

Order, permanent and spontaneous occupation, taking into account
both mind and character, gradual progress in culture, living and funda-
mental knowledge in the pupil, love, true love of it on his part, love for
the school and for the teacher, contempt for all superficial knowledge
in the schools of all kinds, or among the people. These are the essen-
tial consequences of schools directed on Pestalozzi's principles.

To every one who relies upon the school for his circle of knowledge,
he has marked out the path for perfecting and ennobling himself.

Love for teachers and companions, parents and family, will in riper
age become a more exalted love of country, deep reverence for the
princes who are to be regarded as superior fathers.

The many-sided practical power, the strength of mind and body he \
has acquired, will make it possible for every one so trained to act not
only with power for the welfare of his own family, but to be an actively
working subject for the good of the people.

Simplicity, contentment with his condition of firm independence of
character, thoughtful action, the promotion of family and public happi-
ness, practical virtue, true religion, will characterize the citizens edu-
cated according to Pestalozzi's method.

Upon the Possibility of introducing Pestalozzfs Method among the Mothers
and Parents of the People, for the Natural Education and Treatment of
their Children up to the Sixth Year.

Even the introduction of Pestalozzi's method into the families is not
so difficult as it is thought to be, for every mother loves her child, has

270 FRO'EBEL ox PESTALOZZI.

him with her most of the time up to a certain age, and willingly con
verses and occupies herself with him.

It needs little guidance, therefore, even of the uncultivated mother,
in order to teach her .' ow to treat her child according to its nature and
to lead it farther on than usual ; it depends upon how this guidance is.
given to her.

Mere words will work quite in a contrary way, but every mother
like:* to have people interested in her child.

Could these dispositions of the mother be used to give her confidence-
in Pestalozzi's method so that she could converse with her child and
occupy herself with it in an intelligent manner, one might so interest
the mother herself in it that she would soon perceive the benefit and
joy of the child in her occupation with it ; while she occupies herself
with the child she cultivates herself also.

But what is thus naturally given must not go beyond her power of
N conception and representation. The more simple, easy and comprehen-
sible what is given her the better. And what country teacher or
country clergyman has not often an opportunity so to influence parents
and child !

If even but little can be effected, what is really essential might be
done by a country teacher or pastor, with the help of a few members of
the community, to spread the knowledge of a better nurture of little
children, one more conformable to nature. By the direction of the
schools according to the principles of Pestalozzi, where the older and
more advanced pupils teach the more backward ones, the introduction
and generalizing of the above mentioned treatment of the children
would surely be possible, and made far easier because the older mem-
bers of families are so often left in charge of the younger ones by their
parents.

By such direction of the schools, these representatives of the parents
may receive the material with which they can develop and cultivate
their little brothers and sisters by occupying them happily. How
many evils which so often are inflicted upon children might be averted
in this way !

The child so guided will never give itself by way of pastime to evil
habits ; it will become accustomed early to a proper way of thinking
and feeling and will then never have any pleasure in idleness. The
number of children deserving of compassion who run about under the
name of " blackguards " and do not know what to do with their time,
would vanish out of sight under this influence. All would strive con-
sciously and unconsciously for the high aim of becoming productive
and estimable citizens, and of protecting those who are weaker in their
endeavors to seek the same goal.

Honored princess, linger a moment over this picture ; find in it the
happiness which this method will spread abroad over all conditions of
men.

FKOEBE1 JN PESTALOZZI. l.7l

And how much more glorious would be the effect of such schools,
when the pupil youth so guided shall become a father, and the young
woman educated on these principles shall once be a mother. She will
be a true mother ; unconsciously and without farther guidance she will
impart to her child what is in herself ; she will naturally treat and edu-
cate her child according to Pestalozzi. Capable young people who feel
the calling within themselves can thus cultivate themselves for still
higher work, and be useful whether as husbands or fathers by their
information, counsel and acts.

Let them unite with some others of the community who are most
active for its welfare ; let them use this spirit to do good with.

On Sundays and feast-days let them come together, if only a few, to
gather the youths and maidens around them ; let them invite some of
the fathers and mothers to make it more agreeable.

Let the knowledge of the world and of nature be the subject of their
conversation, not formally or discursively ; no, let it proceed from their
own observation and examination how they as well as children learn to
occupy themselves from the simplest thing to the most complex. At
least let the possibility of the introduction of the Pestalozzian method
among the people be shown. By its introduction to the schools its in-
fluence among the people will be so much the more secure and rich in
consequences.

Upon the Connection of the Elementary Instruction of Pestalozzi with
higher Scientific Instruction.

The series of elementary instruction continues uninterruptedly into
the higher and scientific.

To represent this progress in detail would carry me too far. Permit
me simply to indicate the connection.

Language retains as higher scientific construction both the directions
it had taken as elementary instruction.

In one direction, and indeed formally, it rises to the philosophy of
language (form is here taken in a wider sense) ; in the other direction
it rises to scientific and artistic representation.

Classification or system proceeds from the description of nature
directly, according to one direction ; according to the other, the history
of the products of nature.

Both run parallel. As the description of nature rises to individual
classification, so from natural history proceeds the individual histories
of the species.

The description of the surTice of the earth becomes in uninterrupted
sequence the history of th& earth's surface ; afterwards it necessarily
blends with ancient geography. Since the old geography proceeds
according to its elements from the highest point of the earth's sur-
face, this determines the biblical geography to be the beginning of this
topic.

272 FROEBEL ON PESTALOZZI.

Description of men becomes anthropology, physiology and psychol-
ogy (which must come out of history and through which, first receives
here its true meaning) and at last human history. Here first comes
the history of individual men, then their history as fathers of families,
then the history of the whole family of the people and the nation.

Only biblical history corresponds to this natural continuous progress,
since it ascends from the individual to the whole, therefore the begin-
ning would be made with it ; in it lies the starting point for farther
progress. Here comes in the study and learning of the ancient lan-
guages. History and ancient geography now run parallel.

The introduction of the Pestalozzian method of instruction in geog-
raphy is highly essential to the study of ancient geography.

Arithmetic develops without a break into the mathematics of abstract
computable quantities in all its branches.

Geometry develops in a similar uninterrupted succession into the
mathematics of fixed magnitudes in its whole extent and all its subdi-
visions. Knowledge of the elementary powers of nature develops into
natural history in the wider sense and in all its compass.

The description of the products of art becomes the history of the
products of art in its greatest range.

Elementary drawing rises to drawing as an art and proceeds to plas-
tic representation of different kinds.

The theory of form according to its essence must stand in a highei
contact with the aesthetic ; their connection is not yet found.

Song rises to art and founds instrumental music in its various forms.

Thus, according to Pestalozzi, the whole is carried out till all these
sciences and arts meet again in one point from which they all issued —
MAN.

The first of this encounter is Philosophy ; to recognize it makes the
scholar a learned man. When he finds himself at this point, he may
determine by himself the direction and aim of his life with clearness
and true consciousness.

And thus the Pestalozzian method sets man forth on his endless path
of development and culture on the way to knowledge, bound to no time
and no space, a development to which there is no limit, no hindrance,
no bounds 1 A. FROEBEL.

GENERAL IDEAS.— PECULIARITIES OF METHOD. 273

Law of Opposites and their Reconcilement.

What, then, is the process of the human mind in reflection ? The
systematic process, as it is the same for all minds.

Every thought must relate to something that we know, and first of
all to visible objects ; we must have an object of thought. This object
of thought must not only be taken in by the senses as a whole, so that
a general idea of it is gained, as of a foreign plant that has been seen
superficially in a picture, without the details of leaves, blossoms, sta-
mens, etc. It must be observed and studied in all its parts and details.
If we want to acquire a thorough knowledge of a foreign plant we
must compare all its properties with those of plants known to us.
When the properties or qualities of different objects are all exactly the
same we cannot compare them ; if there is to be comparison, there
must be a certain amount of difference — but difference, side-by-side
with similarity. The qualities which are similar will be the universal
ones, which everything possesses, as form, size, color, material, etc., for
there is nothing that does not possess these qualities. The different, or
contrasting qualities, will consist in variations of the universal ones of
form, size, etc., as for instance, round and square, great and little, hard
and soft, etc. Such differences in properties that have a general
resemblance are called opposites.

All such opposites, however, are at the same time connected and
bound together. The greatest size that we can imagine to ourselves is
connected with the smallest by all the different sizes that lie between;
the darkest color with all the lightest by all the intermediate shades ;
from an angular shape one can gradually go over to a round one through
a scries of modifications of form ; and from hard to soft through all the
different gradations. Not that one and the same object can ever be
both hard or soft, dark or light, great or little, but the collective qual-
ities of all existing objects go over from their superlative on the one
side to their superlative on the other, hardest to softest, darkest to
lightest, and so on.

The gradations of great and little, hard and soft, etc., which lie
between the opposites, are the connecting links, or, as Frobel puts it,
" the means of reconciliation of opposites " (and F rebel's system can-
not be rightly understood unless this principle, which forms the basis.
of it, be acknowledged). This "reconciliation" is effected through
affinity of qualities. Black and white are not alike, but opposite ; the
darkest red, however, is in affinity with black, as the lightest red is
with white, and all the different gradations of red connect together the
opposites, black and white.

NOWT any one who has compared an unknown plant with known
ones, in all the details of its different parts — leaf, flower, fruit, etc., is
in a position to pass judgment on it, and to draw a conclusion as to
whether it belongs to this or that known genus of plants, and what is
its species. Thus the natural process of thought is as follows : percep-
tion, observation, comparison, judgment and conclusion.

274 SENSUAL n»i-:.\s.- ri:< ri.iAi;n n:s OF

\Vithout this series of preliminary steps no thought can be worked
out, and the ruling principle is the law of the reconciliation of oppo-
sites, or the finding out the like and unlike qualities of things.

It matters not how far the thinker be conscious or unconscious of
t!ie process going on in his mind. The child is entirely unconscious of
it, and therefore takes longer to reach from one stage to another. At
ti ist it receives only general impressions ; then perception comes in ;
gradually ideas begin to shape themselves in its mind, and it then
learns to compare and distinguish ; but judging and concluding do not
begin till the third or fourth year, and then only vaguely and dimly.
Nevertheless, the same systematic process is at work as in the coa-
scious thought of the adult.

Pestalozzi't Fundamental Law.

Any system of instruction which is to be effectual must therefore
take into account this law of thought (or logic); it must apply the fun-
damental principle of connecting the known with the unknown by means of
comparison. This principle is, however, everlastingly sinned against,
and people talk to children about things and communicate to them
opinions and thoughts concerning them, of which children have no con-
ception and can form none. And this is done even after Pestalozzi 1 >y
his "method of observation and its practical application" has placed in-
struction on a true basis.

Of the manner in which Frobel has built upon this foundation we-
shall speak later. We have here to deal first with education, to show
how far it differs from instruction, and, whether a systematic or meth-
odical process is applicable to it, as Frobel considers it to be.

When Pestalozzi was endeavoring to construct his " Fundamental
Method of Instruction " (•« Urform des Lehrens ") according to some
definite principle, he recognized the truth that the problem of educa-
tion cannot be fully solved by any merely instructional system how-
ever much in accordance with the laws of nature. He saw that the
moral forces of the human soul, feeling and will, require to be dealt
with in a manner analogous to the cultivation of the intellectual fa< -ill-
ties, that any merely instructional method is inadequate to the t a k,
and that a training-school of another sort is needed for the moral side
of cultivation— one in which the power of moral action may be ac-
quired. While searching for some such "psychological basis" to his
method he exclaimed, " I am still as the voice of one crying in the
wilderness."

As a means to this end he requires an A B C of the science and a
system of moral exercises, and he says : " The culture of the moral
faculties rests on the same organic laws which are the foundation of
our intellectual culture."

Fichte (in his " Discourses ") insists on an "A B C of perception,""
which is to precede Pestalozzi's "A B C of observation," and speaks as-
follows : " The new method must be able to shape and determine its
pupil's course of life according to fixed and infallible rules."

.} :UAI. 11>KAS. -PECULIARITIES OF MKTIlnD. 275

" There must be a definite system of rules by which always, without
:>tiou, a linn will may hi- produced."

The development of children into men and women must be brought
under the laws of a well-considered system, which shall never fail to
accomplish its end, viz., the cultivation in them of a firm and invaria-
bly right will.

This moral activity, which has to be developed in the pupil, is with-
out doubt based on laws, which laws the agent finds out for himself by
direct personal experience, and the same holds good of the voluntary
development carried on later, which cannot be fruitful of good results
unless based on the fundamental laws of nature.

Thus Pestalozzi and Fichte — like all thinkers on the question of edu-
cation— searched for the laws of human nature, in order to apply these
laws in the cultivation of human nature.

Frobel strove to refer back all these manifold laws to one funda-
mental law which he called the " reconciliation of opposites " (of rela-
tive opposites).

In order to arrive at a clear and comprehensive conception, where
there is plurality and variety, we seek a point of unity, in which all
the different parts or laws may center, and to which they may be re-
ferred. For the undeveloped mind of the child this is an absolute
necessity. The method, which is to be the rule of his activity, must,
be as simple and as single as possible. This necessity will be made
plain when we come to the application of Frbbel's theory in practice.

F rebel's observations of the human soul are in accord with the gen-
eral results of modern psychology, in spite of small deviations which
cannot be considered important. Science has not by a long way arrived
at final conclusions on this subject, and must, therefore, give its due
weight to every reASonable assumption ; it would be most unprofitable
to drag Frobel's system into the judgment hall of scientific schools, in
order to decide how far it agreed with these schools or not. Its impor-
tance lies for the moment chiefly in its practical side. In order to pre-
serve this part of it from becoming mechanical, and to maintain its
vitality, its connection with the theoretical side must be understood
and expounded more and more thoroughly. With the advance of sci-
ence Frobel's philosophy of the universe must, in course of time have
its proper place assigned to it, and his educational system, which is.
grounded on his philosophy, will be brought into the necessary connec-
tion with other scientific discoveries.

The great endeavor of modern educationalists is to replace the arti-
ficiality and restraint in which the purely conventional educational sys-
tems of earlier times have resulted by something more corresponding
to human nature. To this end it was necessary to go back to the
ground motives of all education whatsoever : the laws of development
of the human being. It was necessary at the same time to determine
the reason of educational mea>ures in order to elevate them into coo.-

276 GENERAL IDEAS.— PECULIARITIES OF METHOD.

scious, purposeful action. Former conventional systems of education
worked only unconsciously, according to established custom, without
any deep knowledge of human nature or fundamental relation to it.

The science of humanity was then in its infancy, and, although it
has since made great progress, the knowledge of child nature is still
very meager.

The services rendered by Rousseau, as the first pioneer of modern
educational theories, and the many errors and eccentricities mixed up
with his great truths, must here be assumed to be known.*

Insufficiency of Pestalozzi's Doctrine of Form.

Pestalozzi, who carried on the work in the same track, fixed the ele-
ments of his "Urform des Lelirens" in form, number, and words, as the
fundamental conditions of human mental activity, and which can only
be acquired and gained by observation.

For instance, every visible and every thinkable thing has a form
which makes it what it is. There are things of like and things of dif-
ferent form, and there is a plurality of things wrhich stands in opposi-
tion to every single thing. Through the division of things arises num-
ber, and the proportions and relations of things to one another. In
order to express these different proportions of form and number, we
have need of words.

Thus in these three elements we have the most primitive facts on
which thought is based. In every form, every number, and every word
there exist two connected or united opposites. In every form, for in-
stance, we find the two opposites, beginning and end, right and left,
upper and under, inner and outer, and so forth.

With regard to number, unity and plurality, as well as odd and even
numbers, constitute opposites. Then form and number are in them-
selves opposites, for form has to do with the whole, number with the
separate parts. But the word by which they are described reconciles
these opposites by comprehending them both in one expression.

Pestalozzi has begun the work of basing instruction systematically
on the most primitive facts and workings of the human mind. To
carry on this work, and also to find the equally necessary basis for
moral and practical culture, with which must be combined exercises
for the intellectual powers before the period allotted to instruction, is
the task that remains ,to be accomplished. Pestalozzi's plan and prac-
tical methods are not altogether sufficient for the first years of life.

It is a false use of language which separates education from instruc-
tion. The word education, in its full meaning of human culture, as a
whole, includes instruction as a part, and comprises in itself mental,
moral, and physical development ; but in its narrower use it signifies,
more especially, moral culture.

*An elaborate exposition of Rousseau's system, principles and methods will be found
in Barnard's Journal of Education, v. pp. 459-486; also in Barnard's French Pedagogy.

GENERAL IDEAS.— PECULIARITIES OF METHOD. 27?

One of the reasons why instruction has been so much more consid-
ered and systematized than the moral side of education is, undoubt-
edly, that the former is in the hands of educational and school author-
ities who possess the mental training and capacity necessary for their
vocation. No one is allowed to be a professional teacher who has not
proved himself to possess a certain degree of proficiency for the task.
Moral education, on the other hand, falls to the supervision of the fam-
ily, as the first and natural guardians of its children, and here neither
the father nor the mother, nor any of the other sharers in the work,
are really fitted for it ; not one of them has received a special prepara-
tion, and it depends entirely upon the higher or lower degree of general
culture of the parents, and their natural capacity or non-capacity for
their educational calling, how far the moral culture of the children
will extend.

But over and above the preparatory training of parents and other
natural guardians — which was already insisted on and striven after by
Pestalozzi — moral education will only then be placed on a par with
intellectual instruction when a real foundation has been given to it by
the application of a fixed system of rules, such a foundation as the
laws of thought afford for instruction.

'The human soul is one, all its powers and functions have a like aim,
and, therefore, feeling and willing — as factors of moral life — cannot be
developed in any other way than thought. The parts which make up
the whole of education must be subject to the same laws as the whole,
and conversely the whole must be developed in like manner as the parts.

The moral world is concerned with two aspects of things — the good
and the beautiful — while the understanding has the discoveiy of truth
for its object.

Both the good and the beautiful have their roots in the heart or the
feelings, and belong thus to the inner part of man — to his spiritual
world. The power and habit of feeling rightly and beautifully consti-
tute moral inclination, which influences the will, but does not yet nec-
essarily lead it to action.

In its connection with the outer world morality appears in the form
of action. Through action, or the carrying out of the good that is
willed, the character is formed. The practice of the beautiful, on the
other hand, leads to art and artistic creation.

Thus education, in its essentially moral aspect, has to do with the
cultivation of the feelings and the will. It need hardly be said that
the element of instruction cannot be altogether dispensed with, even
in this department, any more than the cultivation of the intellect can
be carried on without a certain amount of moral development. In
earliest childhood .the three different natures of the human being are
fused in one and must be dealt with accordingly.

The good and the beautiful, like all other qualities, are known
through their opposites. Only by contrast v/ith the not good, or bad,

278 GENERAL IDEAS.— PECULIARITIES OF METHOD.

the not beautiful, or ugly, are the good and the beautiful apprehended
by our consciousness.

As mental conceptions, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the
ugly, the true and the untrue, are irreconcilable (absolute) opposites.
Pure thought, however, has to deal with the absolute. In all the man-
ifestations of the actual world everything that exists is only relatively
good and bad, ugly and beautiful, true and untrue ; all opposites exist
here only relatively. No human being is perfectly good or perfectly
bad, just as nobody is completely developed or completely undeveloped.
So, too, no work of art is in an absolute sense perfectly beautiful, or
perfectly ugly — whether as a whole or in its parts.

As, therefore, in all and everything belonging to the human world
opposites are found existing together, so, also, do they pass over into
one another and are "reconciled." Thus everything is connected
together, and constitutes an immense chain of different members.

We do not mean to say that already in the actual world all opposites
are reconciled, all discords solved, and the great world-harmony com-
plete; but it is going on to completion. This is the aim and end of all
movements, all life, and all endeavor, and an end which is only fully
attainable to human beings by the cessation of all self-seeking (as in
Christ), the absorption of all individuals into humanity; and this by
means of the highest individual development and self -existence; not
by transforming the individual into the universal.

In the most fundamental bases of good and evil we find again two
new opposites.

In whatever form evil manifests itself, it is always at bottom self-
seeking of some sort; or else it is error or madness. Ambition, pride,
avarice, envy, dishonesty, murder, hatred, etc., may always be traced
back to self-seeking, even though it be disguised in the form of extrav-
agant affection for others, or for one other. So, too, what we call dia-
bolical is, in reality, self-seeking.

And whatever shape good may take it must be essentially the expres-
sion of love to others. A solitary individual in no way connected with
fellow-creatures wrould have as little opportunity for good as for evil.

All the impulses and passions of a human being have for their object
the procurance of personal happiness and well-being and the avoidance
of personal annoyance. And as long as the happiness and well-being
of others is not disturbed, nor the individual himself injured, there is
nothing to be said. The conflict between good and evil begins when
the happiness of an individual is procured at the cost of others or of
the community.

True goodness consists, with rare exceptions, in preferring the wel-
fare of the many or of the whole of human society, to personal, ego-
tistical advantage; in striving after an ideal which, without self-sacri-
ficing love, would be unthinkable. Love towards God, moreover, com-
pels love towards mankind. 14

GENERAL IDEAS.— PECULIARITIES OF METHOD. 279

The moral battle-field is always between the two extremities of per-
sonal and universal interest, and the reconciliation of the two is the
result aimed at. There also where the battle goes on in the inner
world of the human soul it is a question of personal against general
interest, or of the opposition between the sensual and the spiritual nat-
ures of the individual. The object of man's earthly existence is to
reconcile the rights of personality, self-preservation and independence
with the duties of necessary devotion and self-sacrifice to society. The
personal services rendered to the ivhole, in any circle of life, determine
the worth of the individual to society, and moral greatness consists in
the love which, going out beyond the personal, seeks to embrace the
whole of God's world — and therewith God himself. For God has
herein placed the destiny of man, viz., to expand from the circle of in-
dividual existence, through all intermediate circles, to the great circle
of humanity.

Jn the world of the beautiful we meet with the same law, viz., " the
reconciliation of opposites."

What do we mean by the beautiful? That which is harmonious or
rhythmical. Harmony is the co-operation of all the parts of a whole
towards the object of the whole. If the innermost nature of beauty
baffles our attempts at full definition, harmony is, nevertheless, its fun-
damental condition.

But a necessary condition of harmony is the balance of parts tending
in opposite directions.

Beauty of form (plastic art) depends on -the opposites, height and
breadth, for instance, being rightly proportioned or balanced ; on the
contracting horizontal and perpendicular lines being kept in balance
by their connecting lines. In the circle we have the perfect balance of
all opposite parts, and the circular line is, therefore, the line of beauty.
In architecture the triangle is the fundamental shape — that is to say,
two lines starting from one point and running in opposite directions
are connected together by a third line. And so forth.

Beauty in the world of color is the harmonious blending together of
the opposites, light and shade, by means of the scale of color — this at
least is the primary condition. The mixing of colors, too, consists in
the right fusion of the elementary colors — red, blue, yellow, which in
themselves form opposites.

In the world of sound beauty is in like manner conditioned by the
harmony of single tones amongst each other. The basis of musical har-
mony is the simple chord, L e., the opposites, which the key-note and
the fifth constitute, are reconciled by the third.

In poetry rhythm is obtained by the regular connection of long and
short syllables And so forth.

The ugly, the imperfect, in all arts, is on the other hand the inhar-
monious—or the result of want of proportion and correspondence in
opposites — or the absence of transitions to connect them together.

RUDENPLATZ, ZURICH. THE MIDDLE HOUSE WAS PESTALOZZl'S
BIRTHPLACE

PESTALOZZI, DE FELLENBERG AND WEHRLI,

AND INDUSTRIAL TRAINING.

BY WILLIAM DE FELLENBERG.

EAKLY in the year 1798, Switzerland, whilst at peace with the French*
republic, was invaded by a numerous French army on the most frivolous
pretexts. Amongst the Swiss Cantons which offered the most energetic
resistance to the encroachments of the French Directory, Unterwalden
stood in the first rank. Fearful was the vengeance of the enraged
French soldiery, who devastated that unhappy country with fire and
sword. The inhabitants who did not fall in battle (women as well as men
having shared in the fight) fled, some into the mountains, some into the
churches ; but the churches did not protect them from the flames or
bayonets, to which all the native sufferers became a prey ; the children
were however spared ; and crowds of these homeless orphans were to be
seen, after the departure of the French, wandering about amidst the
ruins of the villages. A wail resounded through Switzerland when this
was known.

The first philanthropist who devoted himself to the succor of these
helpless objects, was Henry Pestalozzi, then Theological candidate. He
had just before broken down utterly in preaching his probationary ser-
mon— a circumstance which was a bar to his prospects in the church,
especially at such a seat of learning as Zurich. He did not know where
to direct his steps ; the career of professional theology was closed to him,
but not that of Christianity. He converted his little property into
money, tied up his bundle, and set off to the Canton of Unterwalden,
there to become the guardian of the poor deserted children. The season
was inclement, but he succeeded, with the help of some kind-hearted
friends, in forming a shelter for his new family, amongst the ruins of the
little village of Hanz. Here Pestalozzi fed, clothed, and housed the gath-
ering flock, increasing in numbers till he was obliged to consider how he
could bring them under some kind of discipline ; but for this purpose he
had no help except from the children themselves. He therefore chose
from amongst them the most intelligent, taking care to select those who
had most influence with their companions. These he appointed his assist-
ants ("lieutenants") in the lessons, as well as in the necessary household
work, such as keeping the place in order, mending clothes, collecting,
wood, &c. He soon added to these occupations the cultivation of a small.

•Communicated to the " National Association for the Promotion of Social Science," b»-
Lady Noel Byron, -and published in the " Transactions " for 1858.

•60* FE8TAI.UZZI. 1)E Fi:i.l.i:M5i:U<; AM> Ul.lli.l.l

of land ; and the little colony assumed ilu- igped "1 an orderly
community.

In the meantime patriots from various parts of Switzerland had arrived
in Han/, lirin^in-; provisions and stores of all kinds. The fugitive in
habitants gradually returned from the mountains, and all fell into theii
1 inner way of life. Pestalozzi's school was welcome to all as long as the
children were fed and provided for in it ; but his funds being exhausted,
and the aid of the benevolent being required for the returning fugitives
on their own account, there were no means of maintaining the establish-
ment. Thus, to the great sorrow of every one, Pestalozzi felt the neces-
sity of separating from his beloved children. Still the recollection of his
Unterwalden family, and of the kind of training which he had been
driven to employ from the failure of other resources, remained a living
picture in his mind. It gave a distinct and tangible aim to his deep in-
ward longing to serve his fellow creatures ; it became the vision of his
dreams, the object of all his plans; and he caught at whatever promised
to bring him nearer to the desired end. In consequence, all his inter-
course with friends — for he found many after the events of Unterwal-
den— was dire.-ted to the same end. To most of them, however, he
spoke in riddles, since they could not have understood him unless they
had like him learned, by experience, how powerful an instrument for
training the young is to be found in labor for bread, when under skillful
management By all true philanthropists, indeed, the full value of Pes-
talozzi's work in Unterwalden was recognized; and in its merits his un-
successful sermon was forgotten. Great hopes were formed of the results
of such rare self-devotion, and many anticipated that a new light on edu-
cation would be kindled by it. When he made known his project of an
educational institute, the government of the canton of Berne offered him
the use of the Chateau of Burgdorf for that purpose. He accepted the
offer, and opened a school in that place.

Pestalozzi's reputation, founded upon some striking works for the
people, "Leonard and Gertrude" with others, brought him immediately
a great number of pupils ; some of them out of the most influential
families, with whom he had an opportunity of putting in practice one part
•of his educational system, called by himself the " Anschauungs Lehre,"
teaching by sight and other senses. But his industrial training could not
be carried into effect, because his pupils were chiefly of aristocratic fam-
ilies, and not obliged to support themselves by manual labor. He con-
soled himself, however, with the hope of saving enough out of the income
•derived from the school payments of the rich, to establish a small agri-
cultural school for the poor, on his own plan, in connection with the
institute.

His new system already began to excite public attention. Young men
of the teachers' class thronged around him, and endeavored, with more
or less success, to acquire his method, hoping thereby to make their for-
tunes in the novelty-loving world ; but amongst all those who were thus
"brought into contact with him, there was not one who could omprehcnd

H sTAl.OZZI, I>K FKI.I.KMiKKC; AM) WEHKJ.l 283

his irivut idea, that of making LABOR, more especially Agricultural La-
bor, a principal moans of training tin- young ; indeed, had he found
Mich a OIK- it could not have helped him ; for in his fortress there vvas
not a foot of ground in which any thiiiu could )>e planted.

An opportunity was soon afforded of carrying out the aim of his heart
by these circumstances. Amongst the acquaintances Pestulozzi had
made in earlier times, during a journey before he went to L'nterwalden,
was the family of Tcharner, of Wilden Stein. Tcharner, who was the
Bernese Landvogl, appeared to Pestalozzi to realize his idea of what a
governor ought to be, such as he had drawn in his most celebrated work,
" Leonard and Gertrude" in the character of Arner. Through this fam-
ily he became acquainted with that of De Fellenberg, who succeeded
Tcharner in the government of Wilden Stein ; and a young De Fellen-
berg became one of Pestalo/./i's most attentive listeners. This young
man accompanied him on several journeys, and was one of the few who
afterwards entered into, and adopted, his idea of industrial education.
But it was a circuitous route by which De Fellenberg came to the reso-
lution of acting out Pestalozzi's idea. He was educated for a political
< an . -r, but his mother's character had implanted in him the germ which
enabled, him to receive and comprehend the ideas of Pestalozzi. His
mother used to say to him : " The Rich have always helpers enough, help
•thon the Poor"

It was during the early days of the French Revolution that he studied
law at the University of Tubingen, in < iermany. Returning just as the
ditliculties of Switzerland with tin- French were beginning, he then
heard of IV.Malozzi's school in Unterwalden, and was vividly reminded
of his former acquaintance with him. Other circumstances also con-
curred to -rive the bent to his mind, which changed his path in life from
that of a politician to that of a philanthropist.

The trenu -ndou> war taxes which the French Directory exacted from
the Swiss, and the pressure of the military occupation on the country,
brought Switzerland to the brink of despair, and it was resolved to send
an embassy consisting of the leading men to Paris, in order to entreat
the directory to lighten the>c burthens. De Fellenberg accompanied one
of these amha->a-l«ir> as secretary; and what he then saw of French
freedom, and the political tendencies of that time, convinced him that he
must seek another path. He returned to Switzerland, more than ever
determined to serve his country in the spirit which had been awakened
in his early youth by that saying of his mother. He soon afterwards
married the grand-daughter of Tcharner, the before-mentioned friend of
Pestalozzi, and was henceforward brought more into contact vith him
About this time De Fellenberg's father, who was professor of law in
Bern, purchased the estate of Ilofwyl, near to that city, in order to give
his son a field of action. Ilofwyl is only nine English miles distant from
Bwgdurf Thus De Fellenberg and Pestalozzi became neighbors, and
this led to frequent interchange of thought between them, in which PCS-
taloz/i endeavored to induce \) Fellenberg to employ his estate in real-

284 PESTALOZZI, UE FELLENBERG AND WEHRL1.

izing his favorite idea of industrial education. Pestalozzi had at that
time competent teachers for the promulgation of his method of teaching..
Each of these teachers imagined himself at least a younger Pestalozzi,,
who owed the father Pestalozzi just as much subordination as seemed
good to themselves, and no more. Thus, in a few years after its founda-
tion, the institute presented a picture of anarchy ; and Pestalozzi felt,
himself incapable, through diminished practical powers, of reorganizing
it as was required, and placing it on a firm basis, which he thought De
Fellenberg could best accomplish.

The Bernese government possessed a building, once a convent, near
Hofwyl, called Miinchen Buchsee, and Pestalozzi proposed to the author-
ities to give it him instead oftBurgdorf. He offered the entire manage-
ment of his institute to De Fellenberg, and the government consented.
De Fellenberg made a stipulation that he should have the power of dig-
missing any of the teachers who should not conform to his regulations.
Pestalozzi agreed to this, and transplanted his establishment to Miinchen
Buchsee, which is only ten minutes' walk from Hofwyl. Here De Fel-
lenberg had an opportunity of judging of Pestalozzi's method, and of
seeing both its strong and weak points. He was also able to enter into
IVstalo/zi's further schemes. It is scarcely to be doubted that the dom-
inant idea of Pestalozzi would have been then carried out at Hofwyl un-
der his own eyes, if the characters of the two men had been such that
they could labor together in the same work with success. But in their
dnily intercourse it soon appeared, that Pestalozzi's excessive kindness of
ht'.'irt led him to regard as tyranny a consistent prosecution of that plan ;
while De Fellenbenr, from his characteristic energy, bore Pestalozzi's
want of decision impatiently, and treated it as loss of time. It was,,
therefore, not diflicult for Pestalozzi's assistants to persuade him that he-
had fallen into the hands of a tyrant, from who he should release himself
at any cost. He therefore accepted at once the offer from the govern-
ment of the Canton Waadt (Pays de Vaud) to give up to him the Schloss
Yverdun, on the lake of Neuch&tel, for the reception of his institute ;
and thus ended the connection between Pestalozzi and De Fellenberg,
without, however, any personal disagreement. Pestalozzi rejoiced ex-
tremely when, in ] 80(i, De Fellenberg sent one of his sons to him to be
educated, accompanied by a young man, as tutor, who should acquire a.
knowledge of Pestalozzi's system.

De Fellenberg meanwhile, at Hofwyl, had come to the determination,
to begin the work of industrial education, and the only question with
him now was, to find an able assistant who could fill the position of
" Father "io his pupils, and as such embody his idea. After having
sought among a considerable number of young men of the educating
class in Switzerland, he found the right one in the following manner.
Pestalozzi's method of teaching had excited great attention among all
engaged in education throughout Switzerland. It seemed so simple to
'lead the pupil by enlisting his own will, and rousing his own reason to-
assist in his own instruction, that every n-flicting teacher could only

PESTALOZZL UE FELLENBEIIG AM) VVE1JK1J 285

-wonder why the idea had not occurred to him long before, as the num
•ber of children in a school rendered some such method almost necessary.
Many, therefore, endeavored to apply what they had heard of his sys-
tem, apparently so simple, to the subjects then taught in their schools,
reading, writing, the catechism, &c. ; but they soon found the task to be
much more difficult than they had imagined. Many, therefore, were
anxious to study the Pestalozzian method from Pestalozzi himself; but
this was too expensive for most of them. The pecuniary affairs of the
institute were so involved from mismanagement, that Pestalozzi could not
admit any such supernumeraries except for a considerable sum. This
led De Fellenberg to think of opening a course of instruction in the Pes-
talozzian method ; on the one hand, to offer to earnest teachers this oppor-
tunity of improvement ; on the other, with the hope, among the numbers
who might assemble at Hofwyl, to find an assistant for his own particular
object He communicated his scheme to Pestalozzi, who was delighted with
it, and sent him a young man from Prussia named Zeller, no less thor-
oughly imbued with his method than enthusiastic in promoting it. De
Fellenberg was thus able to open his course of instruction, 1st May,
1806. For this purpose he had a cottage built in a little wood, beneath
.great linden trees, on twelve posts, and with a single roof. The upper
part served as a sleeping-room, the ground-floor as a school-room. In
the morning, the hours from five to seven, and from eight till twelve,
were devoted to lessons. In the afternoon the teachers worked in the
fields and in the garden of Hofwyl. In the evening they prepared the
vegetables for the next day's meals. During the harvest they assisted in
the fields during the whole day. De Fellenberg, in this way, showed
them how an industrial school ought to be organized. He gave them also
every morning, a lesson in agriculture, in which he explained the various
field operations and their connection. He conversed with them on the
subject of making agricultural labor a valuable aid in education, and a
subject of instruction for boys. Each evening he talked over with them
the labors of the following day. Thus he led the teachers to do their
M'ork with intelligence ; to take pleasure in it, and to see how advanta-
.geous would be to themselves the knowledge thus obtained of agricul-
ture, as the means of making the soil more productive during the rest
of their life ; for most teachers in Switzerland depend for the principal
part of their subsistence on a few acres of public ground.

All this instruction was in accordance with Pestalozzi's ideas — De Fel-
lenberg even carried them further than their originator — for Pestalozzi
based his system on the perception of the senses (Anschauung,) making
this the ground work of memory. Former systems had only concerned
themselves with the memory, and with matters which could be made ob-
jects of perception ; De Fellenberg then went beyond Pestalozzi, inas-
much as he added the action to the perception ; ufor," said he, "what
has been done, and done with thought, will be retained more firmly by
the memory, and will bring a surer experience than that which has been
only seen or heard." Earlier schools made the ear and words the subject-

286 PESTALOZZI, I)E FELLENBERG AM) WEIIKU

matter of mimo:y — Pestalozzi, the eye and picture — De Fellenberg, the.
action. Zeller, though versed in Pestalozzi's method, followed De Fel-
lenberg's step in advance of it, with the readiness of one desirous of im-
provement; and brought his objective teaching, as far as possible, into-
relation with the daily lessons of the teachers — the effect of which was-
to render them more interesting and animated.

The teachers who took part in these courses of instruction have been,
heard, even years after, to describe the scene so vividly that it seemed as if
they had just come from it ; and it has been often proved that whilst other
teachers, from want of knowledge of farming, have been ruined in times-
of distress, such as 1816, 1817, the Hofwyllers, as they were called,
struggled out of their difficulties by their own exertions.

About thirty joined in the first season's lessons. These, on their re-
turn home, mentioned them to their acquaintances. The following
spring, no less than eighty teachers made their appearance at Hofwyh
This influx created difficulties for De Fellenberg, as an individual, and
caused him some pecuniary embarrassment

In order to carry out his plans he was obliged to find different kinds
of labor, which he would not, perhaps, otherwise have thought of.
Among these was drainage, then effected only by means of stones, or
with wooden pipes ; and as the Hofwyl land was extremely stony, this-
answered two purposes at once. The drainage water also was turned to
account, in watering the low-lying meadows. All these occupations
again gave Zeller the opportunity of extending his object-lessons. In-
struction in drawing was joined with them ; this art being regarded by
De Fellenberg and Zeller as a connecting link between perception and
action.

The second course was attended by a little schoolmaster, named.
Wehrli, from the canton of Thurgovie. Although an elderly man, he
had set off, on hearing of the new method of teaching, and traveled orv
foot about one hundred and fifty miles, in order to improve himself in,
his profession. He was one of the most zealous and attentive students,,
and endeavored to inform himself as thoroughly as possibly on all points,
that were new to him. When De Fellenberg, at times, explained to the-
teachers how agricultural labor might be made a means of education, de-
claring his own wish to establish an example of such industrial training,.
if he could only find a capable assistant, it was always old Wehrli \\ ho,
after the lesson, had most questions to ask ; and at the end of the course
he said that he had a son whom he could recommend to carry the plan
into effect. Induced by his description of his son, De Fellenberg invited
him to Hofwyl : and shortly afterwards there appeared before him a
youth of eighteen, with a pleasing expression of countenance, modest
bearing, but fearless gbnce, commissioned by his father to inter the ser-
vice of De Fellenberg. Young Jacob Wehrli was not long in compre-
hending what De Fellenberg required of him. He only wished, as soon
as possible, to be put in command of boys with whom he could set to-
work. De Fellen .\ rg v. as so convinced of the certainty of success in-

PESTALOZZI, DE FELLENBERG AND WEHRLI. 287

his undertaking, that he did not hesitate to give the first beggar-boy
whom he found, as a pupil to young Wehrli. Wehrli was no less confi-
dent in its being an easy task to change the most unmanageable of vag-
abonds into an industrious member of society ; and, in fact, the first few
weeks of kind treatment, not omitting better food, seemed to make the
desired impression which De Fellenberg and Wehrli ascribed to their
system. This result was, however, not a little attributable to Wehrli's
having shared all the occupations of his pupil, so that when the boy felt
weary or idle, he was ashamed to let his master, as he called Wehrlir
work alone. When, however, after a few weeks, the better food and
kindly treatment were no longer newT, the beggar-boy began to long after
his former ufree life," and tried, instead of working, to go after birds*
nests, the eggs of which had formed the luxuries of his former diet; or
else he sought out a snug corner to sleep in. When Wehrli said to himr
" Those who will not work shall not eat," he took up his tools again, it
is true, but as his thoughts were not in his work, his labor was worth
nothing, and Wehrli saw that he should not attain his purpose in that
way. So it was necessary that the boy should experience the conse-
quence of his idleness, and go to bed one evening without his food.
"What," thought he, "I am deprived of my liberty, and must hunger
into the bargain?" and the next morning, very early, he took his depart-
ure. Thus Wehrli had now no pupil. De Fellenberg himself was as- ,
tonished that the beggar-boy had not known better how to appreciate his
kindness, and he then made a fresh experiment with the son of an in-
dustrious laborer, who, burthened with a large family, was glad of the
opportunity of providing for one of his children. He was a weakly boy,
but willing and anxious to learn, and gave Wehrli more satisfaction. It
was riot so wonderful that a child out of a laborer's family, should be
trained to industry. Still it was attended with much trouble to accus-
tom the boy, somewhat enfeebled by his mother's care, to field-labor.
De Fellenberg had said that they would not take a second boy till the
first was in good order, that the example of the one might influence the
other. The prospect of such a result with this weakly boy was unfavor-
able, and Wehrli found that he should have to go through the whole
winter with but one pupil. At the beginning of the cold days, however,
our young friend, the beggar-boy, made his appearance, and promised, if
he were received back, to work hard for his bread. It really seemed as
if the young vagabond had instituted some comparisons between his
"free life" and Eofwyl training, to the advantage of the latter. The
two new comrades soon strove which should do his work best — a contest
in which the beggar-boy soon gained the upper hand, and took the posi-
tion of teacher, as he displayed much more skill and aptitude than the
other. This satisfied his ambition, and Wehrli took care not to weaken
this first germ of civilization in him, but rather endeavored to convince
De Fellenberg that they might now receive a third boy ; as he had a
strong and intelligent assistant in the beggar-boy, and could, at least, de-
pend on the good will of the other lad. Soon there followed a third and

288 FESTALozzr, DE FELLENBERG AND WEHRLI.

a fourth ; but care was taken not to increase the vagrant element, till the
inner strength of the little family might make it safe to do so.

This was the commencement of the agricultural school for the poor at
Hofwyl, in which the OBJECTIVE TEACHING of Pestalozzi was brought into
action in concurrence with labor. When the pupils reached ten in num-
ber Wehrli was able to promote some of them to be his assistants; not
so much in school-teaching, as in the direction of work, arranging that
each older pupil should take charge of a younger one, as an apprentice.
Such was the type of the ultimate development of the school ; just as in
a well-ordered family the elder children lead on the younger ones by
their example.

Agricultural labors offer a richer field for this purpose than any other
employment. Every sort of capacity is brought into action. Each
member of the family performs his part of the common labor, and en-
joys the elevating consciousness of being useful to the community. In
striving to fill his position well, he learns to act from a sense of duty, and
strengthens this virtue by practice. De Fellenberg's pupils, however,
weiv not confined to agricultural labor ; the requirements of his farm, and
afterwards of his educational establishment for the upper classes, gave
employment to various artizans, as cart makers, carpenters, joiners, black-
smiths, locksmiths, workers in wood, iron, leather, mechanics, shoe-
makers, tailors. Therefore, the pupils of the lower school, if they
wished to learn a handicraft, had a wide choice open to them, without
being obliged, during their apprenticeship, to neglect the instruction from
books in which they had become interested.

Wrhrli's school, gradually increasing from a small family circle to a
youthful community, reached the number of 150 pupils, without dimin-
ishing in moral strength or intellectual energy. Amongst these a con-
siderable number were trained to become teachers in national schools,
and superintendents of similar establishments; such as are now to be
found in most of the cantons of Switzerland, in many German states, in
France, in the Netherlands, in Italy, and elsewhere. The greatest ser-
vice rendered by the system of industrial training, in schools modeled
after Wehrlfs, has been in those devoted to rescuing juvenile offenders
from the path of ruin, and restoring them to society. Up to the p' sent
time, the Rettungs Haus, at Bachtele, near Berne, in Switzerlaix is one
of the best institutions of this nature, and Dr. Wichern, the founder
of the Rauhen Haus, near Hamburg, and De Metz, founder of the Colo-
nie Penitentiare, at Mettrai, in France, have employed this system,
&s the only effectual mode of reclaiming the most abandoned juvenile
•delinquents.

We must not omit to mention here an observation, confirmed by facts,
that wherever such schools have been established with success, they have
always, as in the case of Wehrli's, at Hofwyl, arisen out of the small
family principle gradually extended. There have not been wanting at-
tempts to organize such schools on a gigantic scale, but few of these
Tiave proved themselves strong enough to live. It has always been de-

PESTALOZZI, DE FEI.LENBEKG AND WEII11U. 289

xnonstrated that it is not the system that can give life, but the spirit ; the
strength, love, and faith of the founder; and all these will naturally in-
crease from the smallest germ, and become strong by exercise. This was
proved, too, in Hofwyl itself, for when after forty years' exertions, Wehrli
was recalled to his native canton of Thurgovie, to conduct there an in-
stitution for the education of teachers, after the model of Hofwyl, De
Fellenberg sought his successor from amongst the numerous teachers of
the lower school ; but not one of the chosen "step-fathers" could take
Wehrli's place. The school lost with him its peculiar vitality, and it
would have been better to have begun it afresh. De Fellenberg had felt
from the first the true position of the wealthy in relation to the poorer
classes, and that it would be only half doing his work in the world, if he
merely showed what treasures existed in the working classes to be
drawn forth. The rich must be taught, at the same time, by what means
they could succeed in extracting those treasures. Witnesses were
wanted out of the upper classes to the educational elevation of the labor-
ing classes — witnesses who might afterwards carry forward his work.
About the time at which he made his first experiment in industrial train-
ing, he began an agricultural course for landowners. The success of
his plan of deep-soil ploughing, draining, and irrigation, upon the for-
merly somewhat neglected ground of his estate, was much approved, and
brought him a large number of pupils, many of whom also took an inter-
est in his education of the poor. But these young men remained so
short a time under his direction, that he could not anticipate the exten-
sion of his views in a wider circle through them. He therefore opened,
in 1809, his educational institute for the upper classes, of the same kind
as that which Pestalozzi conducted at Iverdun — afterwards extensively
known — and he here made use of the experience which Pestaloz/i had
gained during many years with his objective lessons.

In working out his method, Pestalozzi had arrived at a somewhat one-
sided system of instruction, founding all on his pupil's own perceptions.
He excluded traditions far too much, so that it was said of him that the
whole past of human cultivation was lost to his pupils — as, for instance,
history. De Fellenberg endeavored to avoid this one-sidedness in his
school, by giving the study of history its place, adapting it with care to
the young. On the other hand, he strove by every means to afford to
the pupils of his higher school a field for the development of their pow-
ers of action. He introduced extensive gymnastics, including military
exercises, swimming, riding, pedestrian exercises, turning, and similar
mechanical occupations, gardening, and skating. At the same time,
under the guidance of a special master, the boys formed a kind of inde-
pendent community amongst themselves, for the management of their
own affairs out of school-hours ; arranging their various occupations, as
well as games of all kinds, their walking tours, gardening, &c. They
•chose their own officers, punished casual offenders, and thus practiced
obedience to self-imposed law. In this manner De Fellenberg strove,
nvith these pupils also, to promote action and the discipline of life, as the

£90 PE8TALOZZI, UE FELLENBERG AND WEHRLI.

actual means of education ; and to lay the foundation of self-reliance in
the man by the cultivation of self-government, and various capabilities
in the hoy and youth, so that in the upper school also, the prominent
feature was education ly action, which coincided with the industrial
training of the lower or poor school.

The two institutions were brought into contact in many ways. Pupils
of the upper school who required physical strengthening, or muscular
exhaustion, so to speak, as was the case with many, were sent for a time
to field-labor in the lower school. In both cases, labor acted as a whole-'
some medicine, whilst the boys themselves regarded getting up at three
in the morning to earn a breakfast with a thrashing flail as one of their
greatest pleasures. Many amusements were shared by both schools — for
instance, skating and sledging in winter, and gymnastic games in sum-
mer. The sons of the wealthy learnt from pupils of the lower school to
respect labor, whilst the poor viewed their richer companions not as ene-
mies but as sympathizing friends. The pupils of the upper school kept
a poor-box, into which were paid all the small fines, and the voluntary
contributions of the boys also, on Sundays, after the religious services.
These funds afforded them the means of helping the sick and infirm peo
pie whom they met with in their visits to the poor families round HofwyL
Such visits were usually made on Sunday afternoons. Thus also was
Sunday sanctified, not by words only, but by deeds.

In order to awaken yet more sympathy in the sons of the rich for the
education of the poor, a little colony from the lower school was at one
time established in a wood, about six miles from Hofwyl, on an inclosure
of about twelve acres. The walls of the dwellings were of clay, and
were the work of the pupils of the upper school. The doors, windows,,
floor, ceilings, partitions, beds, tables, chairs, and cupboards, were made
by the young carpenters of both schools ; and it was a common festival
for all when the first four pupils, with their teacher, were established in the
new colony, on which occasion the chief enjoyment consisted in this, that
both schools joined in digging and in preparing for planting the piece of
ground destined for a garden. For several years, one of the most favor-
ite Sunday walks was to visit the new colony and observe its progress.

Thus it was that the practical working, as well as the theory, of agri-
cultural poor schools was carried by Uofwyl pupils into distant countries ;
and thus, too, the boys of the upper school took away with them more
correct notions of active beneficence, as well as of the duties which prop-
erty imposes upon its possessor.

This education earned much approbation from the public, and the
number of pupils increased in a short time. Their payments enabled
De Fellenberg to extend the Poor School, which we before mentioned.
It also made it possible for him to give several "courses" for the benefit
of earnest teachers ; and amongst them he discovered young men who
attached themselves, willingly and efficiently, to his work of training the
poor, assisting him to spread it abroad.

Among the many strangers who visited Hofwyl, some, who were not

PESTA1.0ZZI, DE FELI.ENiiERG AND WEI1RL1. 291

satisfied with seeing what was done there, inquired into the possibility
of founding similar institutions in their own homes. Then it always ap-
peared necessary, as a first condition, to have a Wehrli ; and De Fellen-
berg perceived that, if all these good intentions should be carried into
effect, he must consider how he could procure more than Wehrli.
He was now able to make use of those young men whom he had
found qualified, in the course of his classes, for teachers, and without
whom it would have been impossible for him to extend his system thus
widely in so short a time. For however simple at first sight the idea
might appear, that the same means which renders the individual capable
of self-support — namely, his development as a worker, should be made
the chief agent in his education — nevertheless, such simple ideas are only
suggested by that common sense which Diogenes sought with a lantern
in broad daylight. To carry them out into practice requires a self-denial
and devotion, which is the fruit of a long exercise of Christian virtues.

Pestalozzi's original ideal was thus realized in Hofwyl. He had
practiced his method of instruction at Iverdun, at first with great suc-
cess ; but here, again, his want of capacity for management stood in
his way.

We are far, however, from wishing to depreciate, in the smallest de-
gree, the great service which he rendered in the furtherance of true-
popular education. If his objective system did not entirely develop in-
dustrial training, it may at least be considered as having given the first
impulse in that direction. What must above all be regarded in all he did
is his inexhaustible love for the young, to express which, he could
scarcely find words. It inspired every one with whom he came in con-
tact, and became the distinguishing characteristic of his true disciples. If'
his system embraced but few subjects of teaching, its deficiencies were
compensated for by the intensity with which it acted upon such as could:
be brought within its sphere.

Pestalozzi's simple motto was, " Nothing can be learned except through ,
comparison of the unknown with the known;" and, again, "Every thing
is contained in the child ; the teacher must know how to draw it out by
love and patience : love can always find means." To teachers he often/
said, 4'Go, and learn of the mother."

The young, according to his view, could only know by the physical
perception which requires repeated exercise to advance to mental percep-
tion. What the eye sees must be thoroughly comprehended by means
of feeling, hearing, smelling, tasting, in order that the verbal description
of the object and its properties may be perfectly understood. Then the
teacher proceeded to numbers and measures, and lastly drawing came m
to complete the external image.

From this short sketch of the course pursued by Pestalozzi's method,
of objective teaching, it will be seen that it was especially calculated to,
qualify and prepare its scholars for the study of natural science ; and it
is evident that in agriculture lay the richest mine for the practice of
objective teaching. As a farther development of his system, PestalozzL

PESTALOZZI, DE FELLKNliEKG AND WE11RL1.

could not fail to look with satisfaction on De Fellenberg's agricultural
school at Hofwyl. If we cast a glance at the studies of the naturalist —
as widely comprehensive as they are deep and searching — and upon their
manifold uses in common life, we can scarcely fail to acknowledge, with
gratitude, in Pestalozzi's system one of the influences which have helped
to promote and facilitate scientific pursuits.

De Fellenberg pursued his work at Hofwyl, in the manner before
described, till the year 1844. We have mentioned how offshoots of his
work for educating the poor were formed with success in most of the
cantons of Switzerland, and the adjoining countries ; and he could look
upon his life with the consciousness of having begun a work that would
advance and develop itself through the inherent truth of the principle
which it represented.

It is very significant of the effect produced by the efforts of Pestalozzi
and De Fellenberg, that when, in 1844, the erection of a national monu-
ment to Pestalozzi was talked of, and men of all ranks met to consider
the subject, it was agreed, without opposition from any quarter, to
abandon the idea of a stone or bronze statue, and raise instead of it, a
living memorial to the father of Swiss education, consisting of an insti-
tution for the training of poor children of both sexes, in accordance
with his ideas, and after the model of Wehrli's school at Hofwyl.
This monument is still flourishing, and will be a blessing to corning
generations,

De Fellenberg's institutions at Hofwyl did not escape the fate of all
human affairs. He died in 1844. The political events of 1845-48 caused
a dissolution of his schools at the moment; but his system was too
firmly established in Switzerland, by means of numerous training and
other schools, to be effected by the continuance or discontinuance of Hof-
wyl. That which he sought to accomplish by means of his schools was
achieved : — 1. Switzerland had obtained a system of popular education,
having its foundation in the wants of the nation, and which it could
henceforth develop independently, as there was scarcely a place of any
importance in the country where there was not a pupil, either of Pesta-
lozzi or De Fellenberg, to take an active interest in the schools. 2. The
idea of training by action, by productive and civilizing labor, had ad-
vanced from theory into practice. The same means which are pointed
out to man for his material support were now brought to serve as an
effective instrument in his education ; and, as the great mass of man-
kind are destined to maintain themselves by labor, the most effective
means of civilizing and educating this large majority was thus discov-
ered in labor. The chief point which remained to be considered was,
how the leading classes of society, the employers, could be trained to
recognize their duty, to educate and elevate morally the working classes,
with the same interest with which they make use of hired labor to in-
crease their own property. De Fellenberg indicated the way to this end
also, and made the first step by the establishment of his educational
institution, described above, for the higher classes.

JOHANNES NIEDERER.

JOHANNES NIEDERER, whose reputation as a teacher is nearly con-
nected with that of Pestalozzi, and stands high amongst those of his
fellow-laborers, was born in 1778, in Appenzell. Having completed
his studies, he was already settled as pastor when the fame of Pes-
talozzi's plans and labors reached him, and set his whole soul in
motion. Unlike those who can not soon enough shake the dust of
the school from their feet to seat themselves in the pulpit, Niederer
resigned his pastorate in 1800, and hastened to connect himself with
Pestalozzi. In the institution of the latter, he had special charge of
the religious instruction. His manner in giving this, and in his whole
labors as a teacher, is so well described by his efficient fellow-laborer,
Kriisi, in his recent u Recollections of my pedagogical life and work?
(Erinnerungen aus meinem pddagogischen Leben und Wirkeri,) p. 39,
that we shall make an extract : Kriisi says, " To be present at the
religious instruction of Niederer, and at his confirmations, was sure
to have a good influence upon the heart. Good preparatory instruc-
tion in intellect and language was necessary, in order to appreciate it,
it is true ; but this was to be enjoyed in the institution. Although
he soon passed over the history of creation, the gospel of John, and
the sermon on the mount, yet the instruction he derived from these
sources as to the faith, had a complete character, and afforded deep
views of the essence of religion and of the scope of human duty. I
several times attended the whole course ; and how highly I valued
the privilege may be inferred from the fact that I forthwith sent
three of my children to attend, that they might learn from him the
happiness of religion. Niederer filled an important part in Pestal-
ozzi's institution and history. He earnestly devoted his time and
strength to the subjects of religion, language, literature, and philos-
ophy. He first studied Pestalozzi's works, in their various applica-
tions to pedagogy, politics, legislation, <fec., not resting until he had
ascertained the central point from which they all radiate ; for to con-
sider them only in their separate character, was insufficient for him
as a thinker and investigator. But he did not limit his labors to
writings and thinking only, nor even to the numerous studies success-
fully pursued in the institution, and the labors to be pursued in vari-
ous directions, and amongst various materials, with reference to those

294 JOHANNES N1EDERER.

studies ; but embraced, in the scope of his inquiries, the nature, exist-
ence, powers, and weaknesses of man ; his course of development, his
future fate and destiny, in the individual, the nation, and the race.

Niederer possessed the fullest confidence of Pestalozzi, who con-
sulted him on all occasions, and saved himself by his means from
many mistakes. Niederer opposed himself to any views or efforts
within the institution which threatened to break up or hamper its
usefulness, and was variously active in contending against them.

In literature, Niederer has been less active than was to be wished
from a man so rich in endowments and experience. Besides a series
of small treatises, we have only one larger work: " Pestalozzi'' *s ed-
ucational enterprise in its relations to cotemporary civilization"
(Pestalozzi"1 s Erziehungsuntcrnehmung im Verhaltniss zur Zeitcul-
tur,) Stuttgart, 1812, 2 vols. The wish was often, and with good
reason, expressed, that he would publish a scientific exposition of
pedagogy on Pestalozzi's principles. A biography of the great
teacher himself, from his pen, would have been gratefully received.
Still more welcome, had it pleased him to write it, would have been
an account of his method of religious instruction ; especially now,
when so many are endeavoring to fix that most important of all de-
partments of instruction upon a half-ascertained psychological basis,
and to entangle it with religious parties. He however died, in 1843,
without having performed this work.

Niederer's wife, previously Rosette Kasthofer, of Berlin, where she
was born, 3rd November, 1779, conducted fora long time the girls'
school established by Pestalozzi at Yverdun, along with his boys'
sdi.x.l. The institution was, however, transferred to Geneva, where
it is now established. Madame Niederer has also established, in con-
nection with it, a seminary for young women intending to become
teachers ; and in both she is yet laboring, with youthful freshness and
enthusiasm. In 1828, was published a valuable work by her : " Glan-
ces at the system of female education. For educated mothers and
daughters" (Blicke in dan Wesen der weiblichen Erziehung. Fur
gebildete Mutter und Tochter.) Berlin : Riicker. She has also pub-
lished " Dramatic Games for the Young]** (Dramatische Jugend-
spiele.) Aarau, 1838, 2 vols.

We find the following estimate of Niederer, bv Pestalozzi, ex-
pressed at different times.

"The mode in which Niederer looks at my work can not be sep-
arated from that in which I myself see it. His views are almost all
the results of his reflections. I scarcely know what it is to reflect.
My opinions and views are almost all the results of immediate intui-
tion and of excited feelings. Moreover, I .did not understand his

JOHANNES N1EDERER. 295

but his Vindication taught me to understand it. I could
not satisfy myself with reading that production. I found myself, in
it, almost in every line, more clearly and distinctly stated, and more
profoundly comprehended, than I had comprehended and expressed
myself, on systems of education, on maternal instinct, on the nature
and organization of schools, on my institution, in short, on all the
principles and views which were in point at the time." — Fortunes of
My Life.

" He has, at the same time, peculiarities which I often endure only
with difficulty, since they are diametrically opposed to mine. But
his friendship surpasses all the friendship that I have enjoyed or even .
dreamed of in my life. What more can a man do for a friend, than
for his sake to give up a certain, quiet, and agreeable mode of living,
and to put himself into a condition uncertain, unpleasant, oppressive,
and in many respects dangerous ? This Niederer has done. For my
sake he gave up the pastorate where he was living, efficient, respected,
and happy, joined himself to me and my poverty, threw himself into
all my embarrassments, at a period when my work was not yet ripe
in itself, and when I was almost wholly deprived of all external aid
and co-operation in it. At that time he was the only man of any
degree of literary cultivation who took a place at my side, and took
part in all the perils to which my undertaking could and did expose
him. And his friendship extended beyond me personally, and to the
purpose of my life, in regard to which I so often saw myself deserted.
He is drawn toward me personally as little as I toward him. I might
say that, in this respect, we were not as near each other as is to be
expected from men living so near ; but his life is a friendship : his
endurance and perseverance for my objects — even the contest which
he continually keeps up with himself and with me, for the promotion
of the purpose of my life — even his opposition to and arguments
against me individually, when he finds himself in conflict with my
designs — show the noble, remarkable, and pure character of his
friendship. If he withstood me less, he would love me less." — Dec-
laration Against Canon BreniVs Questions, p. 28.

"As early as at the begininng of our association in Burgdorf, there
came amongst us a young clergyman, of thorough education, full of
fire, power, and quiet though strong efficiency, and observed in silence
the course of our labors. In this first stage of his design, he resem-
bled nothing less than one seeking a predominant influence upon the
general and practical course of our undertaking. On the contrary,
his whole conduct indicated, at the beginning, very clearly, that he
was investigating the psychological basis of the principles and essence
of our idea of elementary training, more seriously, broadly, and

'-'-"' JOHANNES NIEDERER.

deeply than any one before him, by means of a free, individualized,
and independent reflection upon them. By this course he very soon
elaborated a system of his own, as to our idea of elementary training,
which, it is true, was not made inwardly complete and outwardly ap-
plicable by any basis whatever of practical experience, but which
inspired him with such a visionary enthusiasm for its infallibility and
applicableness, that all at once he suddenly began to take an active
and powerful part in the whole extent of our operations : so as grad-
ually to acquire a universal and predominating influence over them,
and to gain my own confidence to a high degree. His singular char-
acter inspired him with the definite design of opposing the weaknesses,
faults, and defects of my establishment, by means of scientific expo-
sitions of the idea which lay at the base of our undertakings. He
believed confidently that, by the magic touch of his lucid ideas, or
frequently even by significant words, he could prevent the increase of
that fatal influence whose greatness he deeply felt ; and that, by verbal
elucidations, he could control what he could not lead intellectually by
the weight of his influence, nor practically manage, and could least of
all carry forward by his creative energy by actual executive me;.
Niederer's requirement of absolute acquiescence in his views, arose
from ideas which he bad not made clear and definite to himself in
their whole extent and connection ; for he was prone to lose himself
in metaphysical expositions of his ideas, which he was neither fitted
to do by possessing a solid substratum of intuitional knowledge, nor
competent to express in any manner by simple, clear, and intelligible
language, and thus to make properly comprehensible. Most of the
objects he sought and urged were, to us, mere atmospheric phenome-
na, without any connection whatever with the basis of our actual life.
He was, throughout, unfitted and almost incapable of giving the
slightest practical demonstration of his high-sounding ideas. This he
knew himself; and often required with earnestness that others should
not only receive, as he did, what be had constructed in his ideal man-
ner, but also that they should work them out in actual practice to his
satisfaction, and that without requiring much co-operation from him."
—Fortune* of My Life, p. 29.

JOHANNES Bl

JOHANNES Bess, an assistant teacher of Pestaloni, especially in
teaching drawing, was born at Tubingen, in Wurtemburg, in 1776.
His father held a subordinate place about the theological school^
and thus secured for the son better opportunities of early instruction
than are usually enjoyed by persons in his condition. In the gram-
mar school he acquired, before he was twehe rears old, considerable
knowledge in Greek and Hebrew, logic and rhetoric. His father ap-
plied for his gratuitous reception in an institution recently established
by the reigning Duke Charles, at Stuttgardt hot this was refused ;
and about the same time an edict was promulgated, prohibiting chil-
dren of the middle aud lower class from embracing a literary career.
The youth, although disappointed, did not despair, but applied him-
self to the study of drawing. This he was obliged to give up from
the want of means, and at the age of sixteen he was apprenticed to
a bookbinder — an art by which he hoped yet to get the means for a
literary career.

A-V continue the narrative, in Buss's own language, down to his
connection with PestaJoni.

Having served my apprenticeship, I began to travel; but growing
choly and sickly, I was oohged to return home; and here I made a new at-
tempt to get rid of mr trade, hoping that the little knowledge of masfe I had

With this hope 1 went to Basel; but my circumstances, and the events of
*y past file, had given me a degree of shyness, whMi foiled me in all my at-
tempts at money-getting. I had not the courage to teU the people all that a
man most say to obtain from them what I wanted. Anieodofmine, whomet

the T«T first day I sat down in it,*! began again to indulge mvsetf inmr

the very first day I sat down in it I began again to indulge myse
dreams, thinking it still possible that a better chance might torn up I
time, although I was quite aware that I had lost too orach of my skill

and drawing to rejy upon those two attainments for an
•ace, 1 conseowwtiT changed iny place, in order to gtan thneibr practice in
both, and I was lucky enough to get two spare hows a day, and to form ac-
quaintances, which assisted me in my progress.
AmongothefsIwasmtrodw^toTobler, who soon perceived the gloom by

*X T •l.ti AMiMMAfl . an.4 K* VVM» anriiiT* •?---* *Ktt ra^lM ••• tlamiTriM «f »f»

- - - ' - ^ • ~ .;. S. :..>-.. • • - .> . > > -

::" :?.#

•iiliiir me in gaining a more fiworahte position. When, therefore. lurflsi ia>

:•-:-.. ::.-. ::.,: 1\ <:.-.: ::: < -. . -.-. -.,;-, :. : .. > w.-,^ ,-/. :

?-:". .-c..v . • ' ,- , :' ,- ' >::• ;- •:< • ,--.:'.••.-,- [ • ..,.-,-_;.

I was. as I have before stated, folly aware of my deficiencies :. and the hop*
that I should meet with an opportunity of improving myselC had no small
share in my determination to go to BurgdorC in spite of the warnings which 1

598

JOHAiNNKS IH'S>.

received from several quarters against forming any connection with Pestnlozzi.
wlio, they told me, was half mad, and knew not himself what he was about!
In proof of this assertion they related various stories ; as. for instance, that he
once came to Easel, having his shoes tied with straw, because he had given
his silver buckles to a beggar on the road. I had road " l.«>mtrd and Ger-
trude," and had, therefore, little doubt about the buckles; but that ho was mad
that I questioned. In short, I was determined to try. I went to Burgdorf. I
can not describe the feelings I had at our first interview. He came down from
an upper room with Ziemssen, who was just then on a visit with him, his stock-
ings hanging down about his heels, and his coat covered with dust. His whole
appearance was so miserable that 1 was inclined to pity him, and yet there \\a>
in his expression something so great, that I viewed him with astonishment and
veneration. This, then, was Pestalozzi? His benevolence, the cordial recep-
tion he gave to me, a perfect stranger, his unpretending simplicity, and tin- di-
lapidated condition in which he stood before me; the whole man, taken together,
impressed me most powerfully. 1 was his in one instant. No man had ever
so sought my heart ; but none, likewise, has ever so fully won my confidence.

The following morning 1 entered his school : and, at first, I con loss 1 saw in it
nothing but apparent disorder, and an uncomfortable bustle. But I had heard
Ziemssen express himself, the day before, with great warmth concerning Pestalozzi's
plan ; my attention was exeited, and, conquering in myself the first impression, I
endeavored to watch the thing more closely. It was not long before I discovered
some of the advantages of the new method. At first I thought the children were
detained too long at one point; but I was soon reconciled to this, when I saw the
perfection which they attained in their first exercises, and the advantages which it
insured to them in their further progress. I now perceived, for the first time, the
disadvantages under which I myself had labored, in consequence of the incoher-
ent and desultory manner in which I had been taught in my boyhood ; and I be-
gan to think that, if I had been kept to the first elements with similar persever-
ance, I should have been able afterward to help myself, and thus to escape all
the sufferings and mclaneholy which I had endured.

This notion of mine perfectly agrees with Pestalozzi's principle, that by his
method men are to be enabled to help themselves, since there is no one, as he
says, in God's wide world, that is willing or able to help them. I shuddered
when I rend this passage for the first time in " Leonard and Gertrude." But, alas,
the experience of my life lias taught me that, unless a man be able to help him-
self, there is actually no one, in God's wide world, able or willing to help him.
I now saw quite clearly that my inability to pursue the plan of my younger years
in an independent manner, arose from the superficiality with which I had been
taught, and which had prevented me from attaining that degree of intrinsic pow-
er of which I stood in need. I had learned an art, but I was ignorant of the
basis on which it rested ; and now that I was called on to apply it, in a manner
consistent with its nature. I found myself utterly at a loss to know what that na-
ture was. With all the attention and zeal I brought to the subject, I could not
understand the peculiar view which Pestalozzi took of drawing, and 1 could not
at all make out his meaning, when he told me that lines, angles, and curves
were the basis of drawing. By way of explanation, he added, that in this, as in
all other matters, the human mind must be led from indistinct intuitions to clear
ideas. But I had no idea, whatever, how this was to be done by drawing. He
said it must be done by dividing the square and the curve, by distinguishing their
simple elements, and comparing them with each other. I now tried to find out
what these simple elements were, but I knew not how to get at simple elements ;
and, in endeavoring to reach them, I drew an endless variety of figures, which,
it is true, might be called simple, in a certain sense, but which were utterly unfit,
nevertheless, to illustrate the elementary laws which Pestalozzi was in search of.
Unfortunately he was himself no proficient either in writing or drawing ; though,
in a manner to me inconceivable, he had carried his children pretty far in both
these attainments. In short, months passed away before I understood what was to
be done with the elementary lines which he put down for me. At last I began
to suspect that I ought to know less than I did know ; or that, at least, I must
throw my knowledge, as it were, overboard, in order to descend to those simple
t leirents by which I saw him produce such powerful, and, to me, unattainable

JOHANNES BUSS. 299

•effects. My difficulties were immense. But the constant observation of the
progress which his children made in dwelling perseveringly on his " elements,"
brought my mind, at last, to maturity on that point ; I did violence to myself,
and, abandoning my preconceived notions of the subject, I endeavored to view
all things in the light of those same elements ; till, at last, having reached the
point of simplicity, I found it easy, in the course of a few days, to draw up my
sketch of an alphabet of forms.

Whatever my eyes glanced upon from that moment, I saw between lines which
determined its outline. Hitherto I had never separated the outline from -the ob-
ject, in my imagination ; now I perceived the outline invariably as distinct from
the object, as a measurable form, the slightest deviation from which I could easily
ascertain. But I now fell into another extreme. Before I had seen nothing but
objects; now I saw nothing but lines; and I imagined that children must be ex-
ercised on these lines exclusively, in every branch of drawing, before real objects
were to be placed before them for imitation, or even for comparison. But Pesta-
lozzi viewed his drawing-lessons in connection with the whole of his method, and
with nature, who will not allow any branch of art to remain isolated in the hu-
man mind. His intention was, from the first beginning, to lay before the child
two distinct series of figures, of which one should be contained in his book for the
earliest infancy, and the other should furnish practical illustrations for a course of
lessons on abstract forms. The first were intended to form, as it were, a supple-
ment to nature, in giving children an intuitive knowledge of things and their
names. The second was calculated to combine the practical application of art
with the theoretical knowledge of its laws, by connecting the perception of ab-
stract forms with an intuitive examination of the objects that fitted into those
forms.* In this manner, he meant to bring nature and art to bear upon each other ;
so that, as soon as the children were able to draw a line, or a figure, real objects
should be presented to them, so exactly corresponding as to render their imitation
a mere repetition of the same exercise which they had before performed in the
abstract.

I was afraid lest, by giving the child real objects, his perception of the outline
should be disturbed ;"but Pestalozzi did not wish to cultivate any power against
nature, and he said, concerning this subject : " Nature gives no lines, but only ob-
jects to the child ; the lines must be given to the child, that he may view the
objects correctly; but to take the objects from him, in order to make him see
lines only, would be exceedingly wrong."

But there was another difficulty in which I had entangled myself. Pestalozzi
told me that children must learn to read those outlines like so many words, by
denominating the different parts, the lines, angles, and curves, with different let-
ters, so that their combinations may be as easily expressed in language, and put
down in writing, as any other word by the composition of its letters. In this man-
ner an alphabet of forms was to be established and a technical language created,
by means of which the nicest distinctions of the different forms might be clearly
brought before the mind, and appropriately expressed in words calculated to illus-
trate them by the difference of the formation.

Pestalozzi persevered until I understood him. I saw that I gave him a great
deal of trouble, and I was sorry for it. It was, however, unavoidable ; and but for
;his patience we should never have made an alphabet of forms.

At last I succeeded. I began by the letter A. I showed him what I had
done ; he approved of it, and now one thing'followed from the other without any
difficulty. In fact, the figures being once completed, the whole was done ; but I
was unable to see all that I had done ; I had neither the power of expressing
myself clearly on the subject, nor the capability of understanding the expression
of others.

To remedy the defect under which I labored is, however, one of the most es-
sential objects of Pestalozzi's method, which connects language throughout with
the knowledge gained from nature by the assistance of art, and supplies the pupil
at every stage of instruction with appropriate expressions for what he has learned.

It was an observation which we all of us made upon ourselves, that we were
unable to give a distinct and accurate account, even of those things of which we
had a clear and comprehensive idea. Pestalozzi himself, when explaining his
views on education, had great difficulties in find ing always the precise term which
"would convey his meaning.

300 JOHANNES BUSS.

It was this want of precise language, in fact, which caused me to remain so-
long in the dark concerning the nature of my task, and prevented me from per-
ceiving what Pestalozzi's views were on that subject.

After I had overcome all these difficulties, my progress was rapid, and I felt
every day more the advantages of his method. 1 saw how much may be done
by precision and clearness of language on the subject of instruction, whether it
be one of nature or of art, to assist the mind in forming a correct notion of forms
and their proportions, and in distinguishing them clearly from each other ; and I
could not, therefore, but be aware of the paramount importance of enlightened
and careful instruction in the signs which language supplies for the designation of
things, their properties, relations, and distinctions. Experience confirmed the
conjecture which I had formed, that children taught upon this method would
make more accurate distinctions, than even men accustomed, from earlv life, to-
measuring and drawing; and the progress which many of our children made
was beyond comparison, greater than that which is commonly obtained in schools.

It is very true, I saw the whole of Pestalozzi's method only through the me-
dium, as it were, of my peculiar branch of instruction, and judged of its value
by the effects which it produced in particular application to my art. But my
anxiety to enter fully into the spirit of it, led me, in spite of that limitation, by
degrees to investigate the bearing which it had upon other branches ; and, at last,,
assisted by the practical illustrations which drawing afforded me, I succeeded in<
comprehending Pestalozzi's views on language and arithmetic. [ saw that, as it
was possible to proceed from lines to angles, from angles to figures, and from fig-
ures to real objects, in the art of drawing, so it must likewise be possible, in lan-
guage, to proceed b)T degrees from sounds to words, and from words to sentences,
and thereby lead the child to equal clearness on that subject. As regard! arith-
metic, I was laboring under the same error as before, with reference to the intu-
ition of objects. As I looked at these without reference to their outline, so did I
view numbers without a clear notion of the real value or contents of each. Now,.
on the contrary, I acquired a distinct and intuitive idea of the extent of each
number, and I perceived, at the same time, the progress which the children made
in this branch of instruction. At length, it seemed to me a point of essential
importance, that the knowledge and practice of the elements of every art should
be founded upon number, form, and language. This led me to understand the
difficulties with which I had so long been struggling in my own department. I
saw how I had stuck fast from want of clearness of language, and how I was
impeded by a confused idea of number. It seemed very obvious that the child
can not imagine, with any degree of precision, the division of any figure into its-
component parts, unless he have a clear idea of the number of those parts ; that,
for instance, if he is in the dark as to the extent of the number four, he must be
equallv in the dark on the division of any figure into four parts.

I felt my own mind daily clearing up ; I saw that what I had attained had in
itself a power, as it were, to carry me further and further ; and applying this
experience to the child, I came to the conviction, that the effect of Pestalozzi's
method is, to render every individual intellectually independent, by awakening
and strengthening in him the power of advancing by himself in every branch of
knowledge. It seemed like a great wheel, which, if once set going, would con-
tinue to turn round of itself. Nor did it appear so to me only. Hundreds came,
and saw, and said : '' It can not fail." Poor ignorant men and women said :
" Why, that's what I can do myselY at home with my child ! " And they were
right. The whole of the method is mere play for any one who has laid hold of
the first elements, and has followed its progress sufficiently to be secured against
the danger of straying into those circuitous paths which lead man away from the
foundation of nature, on which alone all his knowledge and art can securely rest,.
and from which he can not depart without entangling himself in endless and
inextricable difficulties. Nature herself demands nothing of us but what is easy,
provided we seek it in the right way, and under her guidance.

One word more, and 1 have done. My acquaintance with Pestalozzi's method
has in a great measure restored to me the cheerfulness and energy of my younger
dav^. and has rekindled in my bosom those hopes of improvement for myself and
mv jpecies, which I had for a long time esteemed as vain dreams, and cast away
in opposition to the voice of my own heart.

JOSEPH SCHMID.

JOSEPH SCHMID, one of the best known of Pestalozzi's assistants,
was a native of Tyrol, and, when he entered the institution as a
scholar, was a Catholic, and excessively ignorant. He possessed great
native talent for mathematics, and this, together with his habits of
industry, order, and thoroughness, raised him in time to the rank of
the most influential of Pestalozzi's teachers. Although his talents as
a mathematician, and still more his great business capacity, rendered
him quite indispensable as a member of the institution, yet his con-
duct, and his demeanor in his intercourse with his fellow-instructors,
became so unsatisfactory to them, that in 1810 he was dismissed from
the institution. He soon after established himself as teacher of a
school at Bregenz, and vindicated himself by publishing a work en-
titled " My Experience and Ideas on Education, Institutions, and
Schools:1

But the absence of his financial guidance brought the institution
to such a point of confusion, that, notwithstanding the deep ill-feeling
against him on the part of the teachers, he was recalled five years
afterward, in 1815. From this time onward, he was in opposition
to all the remaining teachers, except Pestalozzi himself, who unflinch-
ingly stood his friend to the day of his death. But the dislike of the
other teachers against him, although unable to eject him from the
institution, resulted, with other causes, in its ruin. Twelve of the
teachers, including Blochmann, Kriisi, Stern, Ramsauer, Ackermann,
^fec., left at one time ; having drawn up and signed a document attrib-
uting their departure to the faults and misconduct of Schmid. Others
were appointed in their places, but the day of the institution was
over, and it gradually sank into entire decay.

Schmid now conceived the idea of an edition of the complete works
of Pestalozzi, and himself made the arrangements with the publisher,
Cotta, and applied for subscriptions in all quarters, with so much vigor
•and success that the net profits of the undertaking to Pestalozzi were
50,000 francs. He also appears to have assisted in revising and
rewriting portions of the works ; which, however, do not contain a
number of important compositions by Pestalozzi, while some of
Schmid's own. embodying them, are published among them.

Sch raid's personal appearance was somewhat striking. He was

302 JOSEPH SCHMID

muscular and strong, of dark complexion, and keen black eyes, \\\th
a harsh voice, and a sharp look. Of his life, subsequent to the year
1817, we have no precise information. We give below Pestalozzi's-
own estimate of Schmid, as published in 1825 : —

u I must trace from its source the powers which seemed the only
ones capable of holding us together in these sad circumstances.
While we were at Burgdorf, in the beginning of the evil consequences
of our unnatural union there, there came to us, from the mountains
of Tyrol, a lad showing not a single trace of the exaggerated refine-
ment of our time, but endowed with inward gifts whose depth and
subsequent use were anticipated by none — not even by myself. But
some unexplained feeling drew me toward him on the first instant of
his appearance in our midst, as I had never been drawn to any other
pupil. His characteristics were, from the first, quiet, efficient activity,
circumscribed within himself: great religious fervency, after the Cath-
olic persuasion, and of a simple but powerful kind ; and eager efforts
after every attainment in learning or wisdom which he judged neces-
sary. Tn the exercises in elementary means of education, mental and
practical, he soon surpassed all his teachers, and soon even became
the instructor of those who a little before had looked upon him as the
most uncultivated child they had ever seen in our institution. This
son of nature — who even at this day owes nothing to the culture of
the time, and, in all that he has accomplished, is as ignorant of the
usual outward forms of every intellectual science as he was the day
he came from the mountains into our midst, with his Ave Maria in
his mouth and his beads in 'his pocket, but with a powerful intellect,.
a peaceful heart, and courage ready for every struggle — soon excited,
by. his whole conduct amongst us, extraordinary expectations ; and,
on my part, that close friendship which I felt for him almost as
strongly in the first hour of our meeting.

Schmid passed the years of his youth in these quiet but active
labors; and, recognized at his first appearance as an extraordinary
child of nature, his mind, developed in the power of thinking and.
managing by many experiences of practical life, could not fail soon to
recognize the unnaturalness and weakness of our organization, and of
all our doings and efforts. As soon as the influence of his preponder-
ating powers had insured him a recognized right to do it, he did not
delay to declare himself, with Tyrolian open-heartedness, against the
presumption of the one-sided and narrow views of the tablet-phan-
tasta, and of the equally narrow and one-sided as well as superficial
praises of our methods of intellectual instruction ; and, most of allr
against the continually-increasing inefficiency, love of mere amuse
ment, disorder, insubordination, and neglect of positive duties there-

JOSEPH SCI1MID. 303

with connected. He required, without any exception, of each and
all of the members of our association, from morning to evening, the
thorough performance of all the duties properly pertaining to the
members of a well-ordered household. He was equally clear and
distinct in rejecting every boast of the elevation and importance of
our principles and efforts, which was not proved amongst us by actual
facts, as idle babble ; and was accustomed to ask, when any thing of
this kind was said, * How is this put into practice ? What use is
made of it? ' And, if the answer did not please him, he would hear
no more of the subject. This conduct, however, very soon and very
generally gave very great offense." — Fortunes of My Life, pp. 22 to-
24, 34, 36.

HANS GEORG NAGELI.

HANS GEORG NAGELI, by whose compositions and teaching the
Pestalozzian method of instruction was applied to the study of music,
was born, May 17, 1773, at Wetzekon, a village in the canton of Zu-
rich, of which his father was pastor. After receiving his rudimentary
education at home, he went to Zurich in 1786, to continue his studies ;
but homesickness soon drew him back to his father's home, where he
devoted himself carefully to the study of music, and in 1790 he again
resorted to Zurich, when in a few years we find him in a music store
and musical circulating library of his own, and at the same time
giving lessons in singing. He became a composer and publisher of
music, and in 1800 he established a periodical principally, devoted to
his favorite art. His song, " Life let us cherish," accompaniments of
harp and harpsichord, published in 1794, passed the parlor, and
the fireside, and the social gathering of rich and poor, all over Europe ;
and the same popularity has marked other productions of his.

Nageli was one of the earliest founders, even if he did not originate,
the Swiss musical league or union, which set the example of great
musical festivals, attended by concourses of people, practically engaged
in or lovers of the art. He went out frequently to give instruction,
to musical societies in the different cantons, to lecture on the subject
to conventions of teachers, and, in 1810, published, in connection
with M. T. PfeifFer, " The Theory of Instruction in Singing, on Pes-
talozzian Principles," (Die Gesangbildungslehre nach Pestalozzischen
Grundsatzen,) by which a new epoch in this department of education
was introduced. The treatise was the best realization of the method
of Pestalozzi, and soon made singing a regular study in the popular
schools of Europe, particularly those of Switzerland and Germany.
By the efforts of William C. Woodbridge and Lowell Mason, the
method of Nageli was introduced into the United States ; and, in con-
sequence, the study of music became much more philosophical and
general, and is fast passing into the course of instruction in our com-
mon schools.

Nageli died at Zurich, on the 26th of December, 1836, from a cold
he contracted in discharge of his duties as a member of the council
of education.

JOHANN RAMSAUEB.

JOHANX RAMSAUER was born in May, 1790, in Herisau, in the Swiss
•canton of Appenzell, where his father carried on a small manufac-
tory, and a trade in the machines and tools used in spinning and
weaving-factories. In his fourth year he lost his father, whose busi-
ness was continued by his mother. He was the youngest of her seven
remaining children ; and was occupied in the labors of the establish-
ment, and in accompanying his older brothers and sisters to market.
At home he learned to work, and to be orderly, industrious, and obe-
dient. At eight he was sent to a wretched school, where, in two
years, he learned, with great difficulty, to write and read ill. During
this period of his life he learned much more from the good examples
set him at home than from the incompetent schoolmaster. In the
" Brief Sketch of My Pedagogical Life," furnished originally for
Diesterweg's " Pedagogical Germany," we are told : —

"When the French Revolution, during the years 1796 to 1799,
caused stagnation of trade, general loss of employment, and even
famine and all sorts of misery throughout Switzerland, especially the
eastern part, there gradually wandered away, out of the cantons of
Uri, Schwytz, Unterwalden, Zug, Glarus, and Appenzell, five thousand
three hundred boys and girls of from seven to fourteen ; partly to
Basle and Neuenburg, but chiefly to the great cantons of Zurich and
Bern, where they were received humanely, and in most cases treated
even with parental kindness and fidelity. Although I did not belong
to such a troop of utterly destitute children, my mother yielded to
my often -repeated request to be also allowed to emigrate ; and thus,
in February, 1800, I left my home and wandered off with forty-four
boys of from ten to fourteen years old." He entered, while a boy, a
school at Burgdorf, which Kriisi was teaching ; and soon after that
of Pestalozzi. " In the public school, where Pestalozzi taught six
hours daily, I learned, school-fashion, no more than the rest. But
his holy zeal, his deep and entirely self-forgetting love, and his earn-
est manner, impressive even to the children, made the deepest im-
pression upon me, and knit my childish, grateful heart to his forever."
He continued for several years at Burgdorf, as scholar, table-waiter,
and under-under-teacher. Ramsaner became a favorite scholar of
Pestalozzi, and accompanied him, often acting as his private secretary

306 JOHANN RAMSAUER.

during his stay at Burgdorf, Miinchen-Buchsee, and Yverdun. At
the latter place he acquired a knowledge of mechanics, with the
view of assisting in a school planned by Pestalozzi for the education
of the poor. He left Yverdun in April, 1816, to become a teacher
in a school newly established at Wiirzburg ; departing from Pestal-
ozzi with great reluctance, but feeling that the influence and character
of Schmid rendered him of little further use there, and in part in-
duced by the privilege of free attendance upon lectures at the Univers-
ity of Wiirzburg.

Here Ramsauer lived happily, making short journeys from time to
time, giving private instruction, acquiring new knowledge from the
university lectures, of a kind which afforded a useful complement to
his previous practical studies, and growing so rapidly in reputation
that, in October, 1816, of four invitations to other situations as
teacher, two were from Stuttgardt, one inviting him to become
instructor of the princes Alexander and Peter of Oldenburg, and
another to become head of an important school for the elementary
instruction of children of the educated classes. Both these invita-
tions he accepted, and went to Stuttgardt in March, 1817.

While here, he undertook a third employment as teacher in a new
real school; his own institute being discontinued, and the male pupils
entering the real school, while the female ones, whom he continued
to teach, attended the Katharinemtift, a female school established
by the Queen of Wirtemburg, and opened with an address by the
queen herself.

The young princes of Oldenburg leaving Stuttgardt in 1 820, for
the court of their grandfather, the Duke of Oldenburg, Ramsauer
attended them thither, to continue their education in mathermUics,
drawing, and gymnastics. Some months afterward he opened a
school for girls of the educated classes, which he was still conducting
with success in 1838.

In 1826 he was appointed teacher of the duchesses Amalia and
Frederica of Oldenburg, whom he instructed for ten years. After-
ward he established in Oldenburg a school for the daughters of per-
sons of the educated classes. Here he published his u Instruction in
Form, Size, and Substance ; being the elements of Geometry meth-
odized. With fifteen lithographic plates. 1826." He had before
published his work on " Drawing, " in two volumes, thirty-one litho-
graphic plates.

Ramsauer sums up his pedagogical experience as follows : —

1. I learned, in my father's house, up to my tenth year, to pray and to obey.

2. In Schleumen, to run, climb, and jump.

3. With Pestalozzi, from rny eleventh to my twenty-sixth year, to work, to
think, and to observe.

JOHANN RAMSAUER. 307

4. During my various journeys, to be independent, and to help myself.

5. In Wiirzburg and Stuttgardt, to be more modest, and to some extent a
knowledge of the world and of family life.

6. In Oldenburg, the word of God ; to endure good and evil with equanimi-
ty, well-knowing whence and why they come ; and in many ways the knowl-
edge that we live upon a beautiful and wonderful earth, but that to care and
strive for things connected with it, is a troubled life ; that it is well worth while
to pay regard to the spirit of the age ; and that it is possible to live very hap-
pily here below, and, at the same time, to prepare one's self well for the better
future life.

We give some further extracts from the " Sketches" which may
be interesting to readers connected with the work of education.

I have already said that the finer social graces must either be inborn or de-
veloped by culture. Even of the simple politeness of a boy's manners this is
true. I have found this always to be the case. Those to whom this gift is nat-
ural are usually of rather weak or superficial intellects ; but, as the saying is,
they get well through the world — that is, easily attain eminence in society.
This opinion has led me to another and a more important one, namely, that
in practical life it is of little moment whether one has "a good head," (ein guter
kopf.) It is of much greater importance, however, what is one's character for
truthfulness and perseverance ; and much more, that he keep his faith. Through
this last, if it be of the right kind, comes the blessing. As to the point of prac-
tical efficiency, every one of even moderate experience in the world will agree
with me that those men who have filled important places in the world, are in-
debted to their truthfulness, perseverance, and uprightness, much more than to-
their "good head," or their "genius." This is especially true of those of the
burgher class. Even in the elementary school, this truthfulness and persever-
ance can be cultivated, proved, and established ; but it is home education which
must do most of it.

It has often troubled me to hear of a " smart boy " (guien Jcopfe,) in a family
or school, and to see those undervalued who lacked such a qualification. Such
conduct discourages those reckoned inferior, (who subsequently very probably
may excel them,) and only makes those possessed of this apparent talent con-
ceited and heartless. Faith and good feeling forbid such doing; unless we are -
born merely for the span of present existence! Young teachers, just com-
mencing, are especially prone to fix upon such smart boys; but commonly de-
ceive themselves, by setting a high value upon a mere partial quickness of
apprehension. There are even teachers, whether from the fear of men or
from some other discreditable weakness, who praise every thing they see in
their scholars ; or who, after they have complained to their colleagues about
scholars all the year, will, at the end of the term, make out for them certificates
of unqualified excellence.

I have known not only hundreds but thousands of proofs that, however un-
pleasant a strict teacher my be to a bad scholar, such a scholar will, in the end,
feel toward him more respect, and gratitude, and love; provided only that the
strictness was just — that is, without respect of persons, partiality, or passion-
ateness. Even the most spoiled of children will endure ten times more from
such a teacher than from another, provided only that the parents acquiesce in it.

There are also teachers who lay great stress upon learning quickly ; forget-
ting that the most superficial scholars are often the quickest. Such will find, by
experiments enough, that these forget just as quickly ; while things acquired
with more pains remain longer in the memory, and are better understood. The
principal thing is thoroughness; it is this only which truly educates — which
tells upon character. Merely to know more or less is of little significance :
whoever imagines that he knows very much, does, in fact, know pitifully little.
This thoroughness should be a characteristic even of the lowest elementary
school ; and is a constituent of what I have already referred to as perseverance.
A condition preparatory to this thoroughness is, that the scholar be constrained
(without any apparent force, however,) into thinking and laboring independ-
ently. Thus I have often said to an indolent or compliant scholar, who imitated
others rather too easily, "Your own eating must make you fat; that you^

308 JOHANN RAMSAUER.

know very well. Just so, your own thinking must make you \\ ise ; and your
own practice must make you dexterous."

A condition of thoroughness is repetition ; constant repetition. This means
is, to many teachers, too wearisome, or too slow : the latter, to those who instruct
mechanically only ; the former, to those who have never perceived and learned
for themselves, but only out of books. But a teacher whose heart is really in
his work will be drilling often and earnestly, and always in new ways ; so that
both the scholar and he himself will always be getting at a new and interesting
side of the subject. But a teacher who labors in two or three departments of
study with vivacity and pleasure, and gives really thorough instruction — such
as really educates — will naturally have neither time nor wish to expend several
hours daily hi a club or in other mere amusements. His greatest happiness
will be in his calling ; and in daily progress in whatever is truly useful for time
and eternity. Such a teacher will live as much as possible amongst his own
children, if he has them ; and the more he does so, the better will he compre-
hend other children, and, therefore, the better will he manage them.

Among my own children, as well as among those of others, I have repeatedly
experienced that there is a school understanding, a conversation understanding,
and a life or practical understanding ; all three very clearly distinct, especially
the first and the third. If the teacher only understands the first of these, he
only half-understands even that ; and is hi great danger of exacting too much
or too little from his scholars. In like manner, parents are liable to do the
teacher injustice, if they judge of their children only by their words and actions
at home. Girls especialty, who in school hardly dare open their mouths, often
appear astonishingly quick and intelligent outside ; so that those will be much
deceived who overlook the multitude of cases in which children imitate the
words and actions of adults, and pass off their sayings for their own coin. The
school understanding is the most suitable for scholars; as their passions are less
liable to come into play in connection with it, and all matters which are regu-
larly arranged and under rules assist its onward progress. From this differ-
ence it often follows that the same scholar who is industrious, efficient, and
intelligent in school, and seems there to be far forward for his age, is wholly a
child when outside of it, childish and simple (as he should be,) and apparently
quite backward in understanding, and this especially where he needs to govern
himself and to exhibit character.

Such experiences of a hundred others will lead every observing teacher — I
do not state this as any thing new, but merely as something of psychological
importance, and therefore not susceptible of too frequent repetition — to require
from his scholars neither too much nor too little, and to hope from them neither
too much nor too little. And I believe that the frequent enforcement of such
experiences would materially ease the difficult calling of the teacher, especially
at its commencement, and would save beginners our trouble at Pestalozzi's In-
stitute ; that is, from spending all the first years of their work in proving and
experimenting, without the advantage of being able to learn of their prede-
cessors.

;

KARL AUGUST ZELLER

KARL AUGUST ZELLER, High School Councillor and Royal Council-
lor of the Kingdom of Prussia, was born August 15th, 1774, in
Ludwigsburg, Wirtemberg. He was educated in a theological semi-
nary, and in 1798 received an appointment as teacher and assistant
preacher in the evangelical congregation at Brunn. In 1803, he pro-
ceeded to Pestalozzi's establishment at Burgdorf, for the purpose of
making himself acquainted with his new system of instruction. AD
offer, which he accepted, to accompany a young man of the Von
Palm family upon his travels, gave him occasion, while at Tubingen
in the winter of 1804, to establish a charity school for the purpose of
trying Pestalozzi's plans, and afterwards, at the request of some of his
scholars at Brunn, a Sunday-school. Both are described in a work
dedicated to that friend of education, the late Pauline, Princess of
Detmold, who gave him the appointment of Councillor, and retained
a decided interest in his prosperity until her death.

Zeller became pastor at St. Gall, and teacher in the gymnasium
there, in 1805. In 1806, he became acquainted, in Zurich, with the
Senator Rusterholz, who had a scheme for educating all the teachers
of the cantons in normal schools, which he was prevented from carry-
ing out by sickness. Becoming much interested for the sick man and
his designs, he agreed to remain in Zurich and endeavor to assist him ;
to which cooperation the authorities of the cantons agreed.

The first course of instruction was opened in 1806, with thirty
pupils, by a commission of school councillors, under the presidency of
Superintendent Gessner. The lectures, here devoted to the principles
of correct school discipline, gave Zeller an opportunity of composing
bis " School for Teachers" After the decisive experiment of this
course, seven thousand florins were appropriated to defray the expense
of a Normal School, Pestalozzi's arithmetic was introduced, and a plan
of teaching drawn up by Zeller was printed and introduced into the pa-
rochial schools of the canton. A second and a third part to this treatise
soon followed. Being appointed Director of the Normal Institute,
he trained, in 1807, among others, a Catholic clergyman, sent to him
by the government of Lucerne, and who was followed by three canons
from the same canton, who had been studying at Kreutzlingen in the

KARL AUGUST ZELLER.

Thurgan, under the patronage of Von Wessenberg. Meanwhile, a
favorable report was made by a commission of clergymen upon the
result of the first three courses of the normal school ; and, whereupon,
Zeller published a work on the subject, in the form of letters ad-
dressed to the Princess Pauline. Three courses of lectures now fol-
lowed, one of which was delivered before the Swiss Diet, and the
attention of the Confederation was thus drawn to the subject of them.

The year 1808 found Zeller with Pestalozzi, teaching and learn-
ing, and enjoying himself amongst the children. In returning, he
passed through Hofwyl, where a young Bernese gave him fifty Caro-
lines, with the request that he would undertake a school for teachers
among his country people in that neighborhood. Upon the invitation
of the consistory, who added thirty Carolines, forty teachers assembled,
and remained under his instruction ten months. A French teacher,
under an assumed name, also attended this course, and afterwards
pursued his vocation in his own country. By reason of the open
recognition by the Bernese government of his efforts, in spite of mali-
cious opposition, and having a little before received a call from Zofin-
gen, Zeller had meditated spending the remainder of his life as a
Swiss burgher ; but the visit of the King of Wirtemberg to Hofwyl
gave another direction to his life.

The king had attended five of his lectures, and was so much pleased
with what he saw and heard, that he declared that he could not per-
mit Zeller to remain in that place. In fact, he shortly after received
the appointment of school-inspector at Heilbronn, and, two months
later, an appointment at Konigsberg from the Prussian minister of
state, Von Schrotter, whom War-councillor Schiffner had made
acquainted with the "Letters to the Princess Pauline" Not yet
actually employed in Heilbronn, Zeller requested permission to accept
the latter ; but an order to the teachers of the vicinity to assemble
there, and to himself as the proper schoolmaster to instruct them,
was the answer. Forty-two teachers assembled, including one minis-
ter, and remained, at their own expense, six weeks. The assembly
was characterized by the same pleasant activity, good nature and
success, which had appeared in Switzerland.

In April, 1809, with the office of Councillor in the government of East
Prussia, he was authorized to organize the Orphan House at Konigsberg
as a model school, in which young clergymen and teachers might be in-
structed, with courses of lectures on the administration and instruction
of schools, and traverse all the provinces of the kingdom for similar pur-
poses. On condition that he should deliver one more course of lectures
to clergymen of all three confessions, the King of Wirtemberg at length

KARL AUGUST ZELLER.

311

allowed him to accept the appointment. Fifty-two eminent clergy-
men and six teachers assembled, and remained under his instruction
during four weeks. A commission from the High Consistory of the
kingdom and from the Council of Catholic Clergy held an examination
upon the result, and Zeller, accompanied by one of Pestalozzi's pupils,
now for the first time proceeded to the Baltic.

The new organization of the orphan home at Konigsberg in a short
time excited so much interest, that a considerable number of official
persons were desirous of some report upon Zeller's methods and or-
ganization. Further ; the noble and intellectual men who were labor-
ing with Scharnhorst to reestablish the warlike fame of Prussia,
learned hence to consider the relation between a correct school disci-
pline and military discipline. October 7, the king, queen and minis-
try, made a personal inspection of the school, and the dignity of High
School Councillor, conferred upon the director, showed their gratifica-
tion with the visit. In May, 1810, the institution had so grown that
the first course of lectures was attended by a hundred and four
deans, superintendents and pastors, and the second by seventy clergy-
men and teachers.

In 1811, he organized a second institution at Braunsberg for the
province of Ermeland, and a third at Karalene, for Lithuania. He
would gladly have remained in the latter pleasant place, but his official
duties would not permit. He was intending to go to Stettin also, but
the approach of Napoleon's expedition to Russia prevented. An " ex-
traordinary compensation " was now decreed him, in consequence of
this disappointment, and as a testimony of the satisfaction of the king
and the ministry with the results of his exertions in East and West
Prussia and Lithuania. This was the gift of the domain of Munster-
walde, near Marienwerder, on the condition that he should continue to
perform the functions of his appointment. He accordingly pub-
lished a manual for the Prussian army-schools, and a work upon his
experiments in organizing the school of correction at Graudenz, con-
taining a statement of the methods upon which all his labors hitherto
had been conducted.

For several years Zeller resided at Kreutznach, Wetzlar and
Bonn, busily engaged in writing and in the support of his numerous
family. His only son devoted himself to the study of theology at
Bonn, and at the same place, his wife, the mother of his seven chil-
dren, died. He became desirous of revisiting his native country ;
and, having been raised by the King of Prussia to the third class of
the " red order of nobility," he removed to Stuttgart in 1834. His
last labors were devoted to his own country ; the institution at

312

ZELLER.

Lichtenstein owes to him its foundation and progress, a building
worth eleven hundred florins, and continued care and advocacy. The
requirements of his situation obliged him to remove to Stuttgart again
in the autumn of 1837.

His very busy and varied life came to an end in the beginning of
the year 1847, while he was absent from home on a short journey ; a
life that knew no rest, and whose quiet pulses often seemed like rest-
less wandering ; a life which, without despising an open recognition
of its deserts, yet often forgot itself in true sacrifices for the sake of
doing good ; that willingly bestowed its strength wherever any benefi-
cial purpose was to be served, and especially if any alleviations in the
condition of the children of the poor common people were in prospect.
His mission was, not to maintain and carry on an enterprise already
commenced, with long-suffering and victorious patience and constancy,
but rather to erect edifices upon waste and desert ground for others
to furnish. Especially valuable for young theologians are the many
stirring thoughts contained in his "Thomas, or John and Paul?"
published in 1833. The desire and labor of his life was to improve
the common schools. The study of singing in that class of Prussian
schools began with him. He was energetic, not only in introducing
new discoveries in pedagogical science, but also in independently sift-
ing and ingeniously improving its principles already accepted.

Zeller's best known educational works, as given in Hergang's
' Manual of Pedagogical Literature" are :

The Schoolmaster School ; or, instructions in school education on
the plan of the institutions for saving children (Kinder-Rettungsan-
stalt). Leipzig, 1839.

Elementary Schools; their personal, local and administrative organi-
zation. Konigsberg, 1815.

The Evangel of Jesus Christ ; or his character as such ; not de-
veloped chronologically, but in its various elements and relations ; as
exhibited in a harmony of the four gospels. Stuttgart, 1839.

Methods of Learning, for use of common schools on the mutual
system.

Eleme7itary Geometry for Common Schools. Three parts. Stutt-
gart, 1839.

Elementary Singing-Book for Common Schools. Three parts.
Stuttgart, 1839.

JOHN ERNST PLAMANN.

JOHN ERNST PLAMANN, an earnest and influential teacher and
apostle of the Pestalozzian system, in Prussia, was born on the 22d
of June, 1771, at Repzin, of poor but respectable parents of the
burgher class, and received his elementary education at the Royal
Real School in Berlin, from which he was removed to the Joachims-
thai Gymnasium, then under the charge of the celebrated Meierotto
In 1796 he resorted to Halle to study theology, and at the same time
acquire the principles of pedagogy under Niemeyer. After spending
a few years as a private tutor in the family of his brother-in-law, and
passing his examination for a license to teach, he returned to Berlin,
to continue his classical studies, and, at the same time, to give instruc-
tion in the Messow Institute and other industrial schools, preparatory
to founding one of the same class for himself.

At this time the fame of Pestalozzi had spread into Germany, and
Plamann resolved to see for himself the great schoolmaster who was
so extravagantly praised and beloved. Having read " How Gertrude
teaches her Children" he could not rest ; but, borrowing some money to
pay his expenses, he set out in May, 1803, for Switzerland ; having
announced his intention to Pestalozzi in a letter, from which the
following is an extract :

Thanks is a powerless word to express the enthusiasm which your letters
upon instruction have kindled in me. But you will not despise my utterance ;
indeed you will not hear it, amid the loud praises which nations are giving you.
Of that your heart assures me, noble man, who have so acutely and truly dis-
played the inmost laws of the development of the human soul, and with a wise
and strong hand laid out the path and the art of training it. You have so
radiated upon me the light of truth, and so inspired my breast, that I also feel
the sacred call to labor in my fatherland to the same end, according to my
powers. The saying of our great teacher, "Many are called, but few
chosen," shall not discourage me if I can enjoy your instructions and wise
direction. With that I can escape from the old, lifeless, beaten track, which I
have been obliged to follow in my labor as a teacher, and will be able to do
something in the necessary work of teaching the neglected to elevate them-
selves. 0, if you will give me power ; if you will make me an example of
your methods ; if you will instruct me thoroughly in your system ; then I
hope, with confidence and success, to sow the seed which your benevolence shall
have entrusted to me, &c.

Pestalozzi was then at Burgdorf. There soon sprung up between
him and Plamann a friendship based upon mutual appreciation ; for
Plamann, with his thorough knowledge of the labor of former schools
16

JOHN ERNST PLAMANN.

in pedagogy, his scientific attainments, his philosophical intellect and
psychological insight, was a valuable supplementary person to the
Swiss reformer, who had only his own experience of the results of his
always original mental action. The latter candidly explained to him
what he was seeking, both by means of written and oral communica-
tion, until he understood him and his system thoroughly. Plamann
writes :

Pestalozzi received me like a father. No man ever looked so quickly and
deeply into my soul as he. At once he comprehended my whole being, and
pressed me to his breast with the warmth of a brother. At his side I learned
to feel how many were my faults as a man. I was modest, and told him of my
discovery with tearful eyes. ** You are a child of nature," he answei*ed ; " an
adept in the rules of science and art, which I am not ; and which, never-
theless, a man must be in this world." Thus he used to encourage me to have
more confidence in myself. A poem which I gave bim moved him to tears. He
smothered me with kisses, and said, " No one has understood me so well."

Plamann remained several months in Burgdorf, laboring zealously
at the new method ; and became so dear to Pestalozzi, that he could
not endure to have him depart, and even offered him money sufficient to
enable him to bring his betrothed to Switzerland. But he was impa-
tient to introduce the new method into his fatherland. Immediately
after his return to Berlin, Plamann proceeded to put his newly-gotten
knowledge into practice in the institution where he was teaching, and
to apply the method also to other subjects. He maintained a regular
correspondence with Pestalozzi and his assistants, especially with
Niederer. The Swiss took the utmost interest in his labors, kept him
acquainted with their researches, and awaited with solicitude the
result of his undertakings.

In 1805 Plamann published his work, " Some Principles of the
art of Instruction according to Pestalozzi 's Method, applied to Natu-
ral History, Geography, and Language" (Einzige Grundregel der
Unterrichtskunst nach Pestalozzi's Methode, angewandt in der Na-
turgeschichte. Geographic und Sprache.} In this publication, he
showed upon what a deep psychological basis Pestalozzi's system
rested, and how it is necessarily derived from the laws of human
thought. While, however, they commence with the same principles,
follow them out with like results, and in like manner connect them
with others, their related ones, Plamann differs from Pestalozzi on the
view laid down in the "Book for Mothers" that education should begin
with instruction on the human body, on the ground that the similarity
of it with the bodies of animals does not much concern the child, and
that instruction by a teacher should not be given so early. He
thought it more proper for the mother to teach the child about such
objects as are within the sphere of the child's knowledge ; — the

JOHN ERNST PLAMANN. 315

house, furniture, clothes, &c. He then proceeds to apply the method
to the three departments of natural history, to geography, and to the
German language. He promised in the second part to continue the
course of instructions on language and geography, as well as on tech-
nology and history ; but this has never been published.

On account of his high standing with Pestalozzi, his zeal in study-
ing the method, and in extending it by his writings, he became a
centre for the operations of those who were following the new views in
Prussia, and were endeavoring to spread them there. All applied to
him for directions, school-books, plans for schools, and information as
to the spread and results of the new method; and he was also in
communication with persons in foreign countries.

Soon after his return to Prussia from Switzerland, Plamann under-
took himself to found an institution for the practice of Pestalozzi's
methods. For this he obtained the royal permission, Nov. 29, 1803, and
opened the institution at Michaelmas, 1805, with his friend Schmidt ;
obtaining also, soon after, an assistant from Switzerland, Breissig by
name. His undertaking drew much attention, and proved quite suc-
cessful. In the following year he published two instructive works :

" Course of Instruction for a Pestalozzian School for Boys."
(Anord7iuny des Unterrichts fur ein Pestalozzische Knaben Schule.)

" Elementary Methods of Instruction in Language and Science"
(Elementarformen, Sprach-u. wissenschaftlichm Unterrichtskunst.)

At Easter, 1812, Plamann gave up his school, and visited once
more his beloved Pestalozzi, to make himself acquainted with the
progress of the method, and to observe what was going on in the
schools of Switzerland. Upon his return he at once commenced again
to " Pestalozzianize," as he expressed himself, and bought a house in
Berlin, in which to erect an institution. In the same year he com-
menced a publication, which he finished in 1815, entitled, " Contribu-
tions to Pedagogical Criticism ; in Defence of the Pestalozzian Meth-
od" (Beitrage zur P ddagogischen Kritik ; zur Vertheidigung der
Pestalozzischen Methode )

A full description of his new Pestalozzian institution will be found
in the " Biography of Plamann, by Doctor Franz Bredow" Pla-
mann adhered closely to the Pestalozzian principles throughout ; pro-
ceeding strictly according to the forms of the Swiss at first, but using
more and more independent methods as he went on. His school was
resorted to by young men from all quarters, who were ambitious to
understand and disseminate the improved methods of teaching, and
he was never more popular than when he gave up his school from
•the pressure of bodily infirmities, against which he had long struggled.
He died on the 3d of September, 1834.

FRIEDRICH ADOLF WILHELM DIESTERWEG.

FRIEDRICH ADOLF WILHELM DIESTERWEG, an eminent educator,
and efficient promoter of the general principles of Pestalozzi, was-
born in the then Rhine provinces of Prussia, at Seigen, in Nassau,
October 29th, 1790. His first education was received at the
Latin school of his native place. Thence he went to the univers-
ity of Herborn, intending to devote himself to the study of theol-
ogy ; but his academic course was finished at Tubingen. At first a
private tutor in Manheim, he was afterward second teacher in the
secondary school at Worms; and in 1811 entered the model school
at Frankfort-on-the-Mayne, where his holy zeal accomplished muck
good. Having become known as a scientifically-trained and well-
practiced educator, he was chosen second rector of the Latin school
at Elberfeld. From this place he was called, in 1820, to be director
of the teachers' seminary at Meurs. In this place he labored with
intelligence, energy, and singleness of purpose, during a series of
years, for the cause of elementary instruction, which, under the
French domination, had been entirely neglected on the Rhine, lie
was, moreover, very useful as a writer— discussing more particularly
mathematics and the German language. In 1827, he commenced
publishing (by Schwerz, in Schwelin,) the " Rhenish Gazette of
Education and Instruction " (Rheinische Blatter fur Erziebung und
Unterricht,) with especial reference to the common schools. The first
volume contained much valuable matter, much condensed ; and the
succeeding volumes (to ] 859,) have not fallen beneath it in excel-
lence. Through this periodical, the educationists of the Rhine prov-
inces were afforded a good opportunity for discussing pedagogical
subjects; upon which much interest was then beginning to appear.

In 1833, Diesterweg was appointed director of the royal seminary
for city teachers, at Berlin. Here he labored for eighteen years ; his
eyes fixed fast and unvarying upon his object — exposing all sorts of
pedagogical faults and weaknesses, seeking in every way to raise the
position of teachers, and pursuing his work without any fear of men.
The meetings of the Pedagogical Society of Berlin were set on foot
by him. In 1849, his connection with the seminary was terminated.
by the government, in eorisoipK-nre of his popular sympathies iu
10

FRIEDR1CH ADOLF WILIIELM DIESTERWEG 317

•1848. During this period, Diesterweg published " Autobiographies
of Distinguished Educators f " Education of the Lower Classes"
" Degeneracy of our Universities" " Education for Patriotism, <kc."
u Controversial Inquiries on Educational Subjects."' In these writ-
ings, Diesterweg appears as a man of progress ; as one who seeks to
reconcile the existing discrepancy between actual life and learning ;
etween living practice and dead scholastic knowledge ; between
ivilization and learning. The works contain true and striking
thoughts. In his zeal for good objects, the author sometimes over-
passed the bounds of moderation, and assailed the objects of his
opposition with too much severity.

His " Pedagogical Travels through the Danish Territories" (Pad-
agogische Reise Nachden Ddnischen Staaten,) 1836, involved him in
an active controversy with several Danish literati, and especially with
Zerrenner, of Magdeburg. Diesterweg's objections to the monitorial
system of instruction, which prevails in the schools of Denmark,
are : — That it modifies, decreases, or destroys the teacher's influence
upon his scholars ; that it is disadvantageous to their outward and
inward intercourse ; reduces to a minimum the precious period of
•close intercourse between the ripe man and the future men ; and
sinks the school, in by far the majority of cases, into a mere mindless
mechanism, by which the children, it is true, acquire facility in
reading and writing, and in a manner outwardly vivid and active,
vbut in reality altogether unintelligent; but become intellectually
active not at all. That Diesterweg is in the right in this matter, is
daily more extensively believed.

In 1846, Dr. Diesterweg took an early and influential part in the
celebration by German teachers of the centennial birthday of Pes-
talozzi, and in founding an institution for orphans, as a living and
appropriate monument to the great regenerator of modern popular
education.

His " Year Book" or " Almanac" (Jahrbach,} which commenced
m 1851, is a valuable contribution to the current discussion of educa-
tional topics, and to the history of the literature and biography of
education.

Diesterweg's " Guide for German Teachers" ( Wegweiser fur
Deutscher Schrer,) of which a third enlarged and improved edition
appeared in 1854, in two large volumes, is one of the best existing
manuals for teachers, of both elementary and high schools, and has
been made a text-book in several teachers' seminaries. We give the
•contents of this valuable " Guide"

318 DIESTERWEG'S WEGWEISER.

DIESTERWEG, F. A. W., " Guide for German Teachers," Wegweis&r fur Deuischer
Schrer. 2 vols. pp. 675 and 700.

CONTENTS. VOL. I.

INTRODUCTION , i.

1. Dedication to F. FrObel HI

2. Preface to Third and Fourth editions VII.

3. From the address to Denzel, in the Second edition XIV

4. From Preface to First edition XIX.

5. From Preface to Second edition XXIV.

6. Conclusion XXXII

PART I.
GENERAL VIEWS.

I. Purpose and problem of human life, and the teacher's life 4.

II. What are the conditions of success in endeavoring to secure, by means of books, intellect-
ual culture, insight, and knowledge 19.

III. Introduction to the study of elements of pedagogy, didactics and methodology 49

1. To whom these studies are especially recommended, and to whom not 49'

2. What has hitherto been accomplished in such books as have been devoted to peda-

gogy, didactics, and methodology in general, or with special reference to the element-
ary •chools 52

3. The chief constituents of the ideas of pedagogy, didactics, and methodology . . 58

4 The best works on the elements of pedagogy, didactics, and methodology 60

(1.) On education (and instruction,) generally 62

(2.) On the whole subject of school education and instruction 82

(3.) On school discipline 99

(4.) Psychology and logic 104

(5.) Training of teachers (seminaries) 107

(6.) Education of girls Ill

(7.) Relations of school to state and church 119

(8.) School inspection 000

(9.) Social pedagogy, (social reforms, temperance, &c.) 124

(10.) Infant schools 129.

(11.) Mutual system of school organization 135

(12.) Higher burgher schools 138

(13.) Bibliography 143

(14.) Works which include biographies 145

(15.) Popular writings 151

(16.) School laws 156

(17.) School reform 157

(18.) School organization in 1848 162

(19.) Periodicals ' 168

IV Human faculties, and didactics 172

1. Rules for instruction, as to the scholar (the subject) 204

2. Rules as to what is taught (the object) 254

3. Rules as to external relations 268

4 P n'es as to the teacher 278

PART II.

SPECIAL DEPARTMENTS.

I. Intuitional instruction; exercises in language 302

II. Religious instruction; by K. Bormann, of Berlin 332

III. Reading 381

IV. German language 456

V. Writing; by Prof. Dr. MSdler, and C. Reinbott, of Berlin 532

VI. Singing; by Hentschel, of Weissenfels 559

VII. Drawing; by Heutschel 672

VOL. II.

VIII. Geography ; by K. Bormann 3

IX. History ; by W. Prange, of Bunzlau 40

X. Natural History ; by A. Liiben, of Merseburg 251

XI. Natural Science, mathematical geography, astronomy 306

XII. Arithmetic 343

XIII. Geometry 395

XIV. French; by Dr. Knebel, of (Kffln) Cologne 436

XV. English; by Dr. Schmitz, of Berlin 477

XVI. Genetic method in foreign languages ; by Dr. Mager, of Eisenach 492

XVII. Instruction of the blind ; by J. G. Knie, of Breslau 567

XVIII. Instruction of the deaf-mutes ; by "Hill, of Weissenfels 601

XIX. Love of country, patriotism, and connected subjects 675

XX. External situation of the German common school teachers 727

XXI. School discipline— plan of teaching and of work 770

APPENDIX ; by G. Hentschel J'.ll

List of authors mentioned . „ . . 795:

BERNHARD GOTTLIEB DENZEL.

BERNHARD GOTTLIEB DENZEL, an influential promoter of Pestaloz-
zianism in the Kingdom of Wirtemberg and the Duchy of Nassau,,
was born at Stuttgardt, on the 29th of December, 1773. His father
was a merchant and associate-judge, and secured for his son the best
education which the gymnasia and university of the kingdom could
give. After studying theology at Tubingen, under the profound Dr.
Storr, he commenced his pedagogical career as private tutor in Frank -
fort-on-the-Maine. After two years' experience in that capacity, he
served five years as curate and preacher in Pleidelsheim, where he
exhibited an enthusiastic interest in the schools, and took the lead in
introducing the new Pestalozzian system into Wirtemberg. His de-
cided and influential labors in this work involved him, for a time, in
bitter controversy with many old-fashioned schoolmasters, and munic-
ipal ties ; but he was sustained by the higher authorities. He made
himself perfectly familiar with the publications of Pestalozzi, and vis-
ited both Burgdorf and Yverdun, to observe the practical operations
of the system. Deeply in earnest himself, with a thorough practical
knowledge of existing wants, and desirable remedies, with a concil-
iatory manner, and the confidence of all religious men, Denzel made
more rapid progress than is usual with school reformers ; but, as has
been alreadv remarked, he did not entirely escape the opposition of
pctrties whose craft was interfered with.

In 1811, Denzel was appointed director of the Seminary for Teach-
ers in Esslingen, and of the public schools in that circle. Under his
oversight, the seminary and the schools made great progress, and were
resorted to by teachers and educators as good working-models of the
new system of instruction. In 1817, having obtained leave of ab-
sence for this purpose, he assisted in reorganizing the school system
of the Duchy of Nassau, and establishing the Teachers' Seminary
at Idstein, and received, for his service, the appointment of Ducal
high school councilor, and the title and rank of prelate.

After performing good service to the cause of popular education
throughout Germany, not only through the improvements introduced
into the schools of Nassau and Wirtemberg, but by his writings oa
the science and art of teaching, he d:ed, in the autumn of 1838,
universally respected and beloved.

•320 BERNHARD GOTTLIEB DENZEL.

As a teacher, Director Denzel was distinguished by great quicknesa
and clearness of understanding and expression, and by mildness, firm-
ness, and justness in discipline. One who was for nineteen years as-
sociated with him in the Seminary at Esslingen says : — " Universally
learned and completely master of every subject of instruction in the
schools with which he was connected as teacher or inspector, his rare
knowledge of the best method of communicating what he knew, en-
abled him to carry forward the best as well as the weakest minds in
his classes, with great satisfaction to all, and at the same time to in-
spire a love of study, and impart to others the secret of his own suc-
cess as a teacher." His principal pedagogical works are " Experiences
and Opinions on the Professional Training of Common School Teach-
ers ; " " The Common School — a course of lectures on Methodology at
Idstein, in 1816 ;" " Introduction to the Science and Art of Educa-
tion and Instruction of Masters of Primary Schools."" The last
named is a great work, and holds a high place in the pedagogical
literature of Germany.

WILHELM HARNISCH

WILHELM HARNISCH was born, August 28th, 1787, at Wilsnach, in
the Prussian government of Potsdam — the only son of a prosperous
master-tailor, who intended him for the study of theology, and accord-
ingly placed him at the gymnasium in Salzwedel in 1800, and caused
him to study from 1806 to 1808 at Halle and Frankfort-on-the-Oder.
Here he already began to devote himself particularly to the study of
pedagogy, and very soon commenced the practice of it, taking a situ-
ation as private tutor in a distinguished family in Mecklenburg, where
a well-selected library was at his command, and Rousseau's " Emile "
was the favorite study of the accomplished mistress of the family. In
1810 he had the good fortune to be summoned to Berlin, in order to
be made acquainted with the Pestalozzian system in Plamann's insti
tution, at the expense of the State. Here, in the society of Fichte,
Schleiermacher, Kopfe, Zeune, Jahn, Kloden, and other eminent liter-
ati, statesmen, and educators, he completed his higher scientific edu-
cation, and also took an active part in the first establishment of the
fencing school, and the gymnastic and swimming institutions. In
1812 he took the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, married the
•daughter of a landed proprietor in Russian Lithuania, and became
favorably known by his first work, " The German Common Schools"
Being appointed teacher in the new Teachers' Seminary at Breslau,
.established upon Pestalozzi's principles, he introduced, with excellent
results, a system of instruction in reading and writing, which he also
made known in various publications. While here he also wholly
originated or took part in various academical labors ; established a
Society of Teachers, took partial charge of the education of Princess
Charlotte, afterward Empress of Russia, and lived in friendlv inter-
course with Professors Schneider, Wachler, Steffens, Passow, Kapler,
&c. In 1822 he was appointed director of the Teachers' Seminary
at Weissenfels, to which he gave a reputation second to no other in
Germany, and which is well known in this country, through the Re-
ports of Stowe, Bache, and Mann.

In 1834 he received from the King of Prussia the red order of
nobility, fourth class ; has received honorary gifts from the Emperoi
and Empress of Russia, and other royal personages ; besides pecuni-
ary means for various pedagogical journeys. In 1837 he was com-
plimented by his colleagues and scholars with the celebration of a

322 WILHELM HARNISCH.

jubilee on occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of his labors as a
teacher. He has rendered distinguished services toward the perfec-
tion of the common school system of Prussia, by his manifold prac-
tical and literary labors.

The principal of his numerous writings are the following : —

THE GERMAN COMMON SCHOOLS (Die Deutscher VoUcsschulen,) Berlin, 1812.

COMPLETE INSTRUCTION IN GERMAN ( VoUsiandiger Unterricht in der Devtschen
Sprache,) Breslau, 1814.

COMPLETE EXPOSITION OP THE BELL-LANOASTERIAN SYSTEM (Ausfuhrliche Dar-
stellung des Bett- Lancaster schen Schulwesens,) Breslau, 1819.

LIFE OP THE TUTOR FELIX KASKORBI (a pedagogical romance,) (Das Leben des
Eauslehrers Felix KaskorU, ein pddagogischer Roman,) Breslau, 1820.

HAND-BOOK FOR THE GERMAN SCHOOL SYSTEM (Handbuch fur das Deutsche
Vblksschulwesen,) Breslau, 1820.

THE EDUCATION AND SCHOOL COUNCILOR (Die Erziehungs-und Schulrath.),
24 parts. Breslau, 1815 to 1820.

THE COMMON SCHOOL TEACHER, (five years,) (Die VoUcsschullehrer,) (5 jahr-
gauge,) Halle, 1824 to 1828.

THE GERMAN BURGHER SCHOOLS (Die Detttsche Burgerschuk,) Halle, 1830.

THE WEISSENFELS SEMINARY (Das Weissenfelser Seminar,) Berlin, 1838. (Con-
taining an autobiograph sketch.)

HERMANN KEU8I.

HERMANN KRUSI was born March 12th, 1775, at Gais, in the
canton of Appenzell. Of his parents he writes in his "Recollections,"
"they are entitled to the praise of having passed through life in quiet
goodness and fear of God, and were careful to give their children a
good education." After the good old fashion, they often read in
the family Bible, and entered in its blank leaves the birth of each
of their children, together with some pious prayer or saying. They
also amused themselves, especially on Sundays, by singing from the
then popular " Bachofen." Of learning they could of course give
their poor children but very little, and what they afterward acquired
in school was but little more. His earliest recollections was of^a fire
which laid the village of Gais in ashes ; of which he thus speaks : —

It is natural that the first recollections of the mind should ba of uncommon and
striking events, such as make a profound impression upon one's whole being, and
leave an indelible mark upon the character. This was the case with myself.

On the 7th of September, 1780, a violent south wind blew • bad weather for the
weavers, but good for drying turf. " I will go to the turf-ground and turn and
dry the turf," said my father; "there is nothing to do in the weaving-room.'r
He took me with him that day for the first time to the turf-pits, which were a
good four miles from the village. At half past eleven he heard the sound of a
bell. " It can not be striking noon yet," he thought, looking at his work — " Ah
God," he cried, " it is the alarm bell ;" and we heard the cry of fire ! fire ! from
all sides.

With this fragment, unfortunately, ends the account. The fact of
the fire is well known. Notwithstanding his youth, our subject
remembered many occurrences of that occasion ; especially the
next Sunday's service under the open sky. There was very general
emotion, which, at the rather remarkable choice of the hymn, "As-
by the streams of Babylon we sat," <fec., broke out into such loud
lamentations that the singing could not proceed. These recollections
may well have been terrible to the boy, although his father's house
was spared by the flames. But a severer stroke came upon him,
when his father, in the prime of his manhood, was suddenly snatched
away by death from his numerous family. He had always supported
his own household, and had taught them according to his ability ;
and it is difficult to tell what would have become of them, had not
si, then in his fourteenth year, undertaken to perform his father's-.,

824 HERMANN KlUJSl.

laborious duties of village errand-man and weaver; a service for
which the consciousness that he was the trust and stay of an orphaned
family gave him strength. Upon his solitary errands to St. Gall, and
elsewhere, he used to recite to himself the instruction and counsel
which his father had q;vsr.

Kriisi might have passed his whole life in his father's monotonous
calling, had not a benign Providence given him an indication which
had the most important consequences for his entire future. We shall
permit Kriisi himself to tell the story, in the words of his own " Rec-
ollections," pp. 2-4, which give other and deeper views into his mind
at that time : —

At the highest point of the pass, where the road turns away from toward Tro-
gen, my life also took another direction. While earning my living as day laborei
and errand-man, I was carrying, one cold day in 1793, to the establishment of
Zellweger, with which I afterward came into very different relations, a great bun-
dle of yarn from the mountain. As 1 stopped to rest, all dripping with sweat, at
the .very summit, a relative met me, who was then treasurer of the town,
one Herr Gruber. After the usual greetings, the following conversation ensued,
which I yet remember as the turning point of my life.

Gruber. — " It is warm."

Myself. — "Very warm."

Gruber. — " Now that schoolmaster Horler is going away from Gais,' you have
a chance to earn your bread a little more easily. Have you no desire to offer
yourself for his place ! "

Myself. — " Wishing will not help me much. A schoolmaster must have
knowledge ; and I have none."

Gruber. — " What a schoolmaster among us needs to know, you at your age can
very soon learn."

Myself. — "But how, and where? I see no possibility of it."

Gruber. — " If you wish it, the means will be easily found. Consider the mat-
ter ;uid decide upon it."

He left me. I now had abundance of matter for reflection. But no ray of
light came into my mind, although the natural sunlight surrounded my body with
brightness and warmth. I scarcely felt my load as I proceeded along the ascents
and steeps of the road. Whatever has fallen to my lot since that moment, I look
upon as the fruit of this conversation.

Since my leaving the day school, where I had learned and practiced only read-
ing, learning by rote, and mechanical copying, and while I was growing up to
adult age, I had so far forgotten to write, that I no longer knew how to make all
the capital letters ; my friend Sonderegger therefore procured me a copy from a
teacher in Altstatten, well known as a writing-master. This single copy I wrote
over as often as a hundred times, for the sake of improving my handwriting.
I had no other special preparation for the profession ; but, notwithstanding, I ven-
tured, when the notice was given from the pulpit, to offer myself as a candidate for
the place, with but small hopes of obtaining it, but consoling myself with the
thought that at least I should come off without shame.

The day of examination came. An elder fellow-candidate was first called be-
fore the committee. To read a chapter in the New Testament and to write a few
lines, occupied him a full quarter of an hour. My turn now came. The genea-
logical register, from Adam to Abraham, from the first book of Chronicles, was
given me to read. After this, chairman Schlapfer gave me an uncut quill, with
the direction to write a few lines. " What shall I write ? " I said. u Write the
Lord's Prayer, or whatever you like," was the ans^v-r. A» I hid no knowledge
of composition or spelling, it may be imagined how my writing IOOKCU. However
I was told to retire. After a short consultation, I was, to my wonder and pride,
recalled into the room. Here chairman Schlapfer informed me that the whole

HERMANN KRUSI. 325

committee wore of opinion that both candidates knew little ; that the other was
best in reading, and I in writing.

The other, however, being over forty years old, and I only eighteen, they had
come to the conclusion that I should learn what was necessary sooner than he,
and as moreover my dwelling-house (the commune had then no school-house of
their own) was better adapted for a school-house than his, I should receive the
appointment. I was dismissed with friendly advice, and encouraging hopes of in-
creased pay, if my exertions should be satisfactory.

Much attention was excited by the fact that my fellow-candidate, eight days
afterward, took a situation as policeman, in which he received three gulden a
week, while the schoolmaster, who was obliged to furnish his own school-room,
had to satisfy himself with two and a half.

Kriisi, becoming schoolmaster at the age of scarcely eighteen, was
destined to bear a responsibility almost greater than that which he
had so lately laid down. This will easily be understood when it is
known that, with his small knowledge of school matters, he had to
manage and teach more than one hundred scholars, of various ages
and both sexes, in the small school-room. In this situation many
would have labored only for their money, as is unfortunately the case
at this day even with better instructed teachers ; but Kriisi's conduct
in this respect may serve as a model. As soon as he had adopted
this profession, it was his most earnest effort to live worthily of it, and
to tit himself for it in the best possible way; a work in which pastor
Schiess, his parish minister, materially assisted him, both with advice
and help. Within a few years his school had the reputation of being
the best in the canton; and he had the pleasure on Easter Monday
of seeing his scholars take the six highest numbers in writing — a
study on which the utmost value is placed. Kriisi had been laboring
in his vocation now for six years, with zeal and faithfulness, when
Providence destined him for another field of labor which he could
not have foreseen, and which places the modest man in a situation to
exert a wide influence upon the whole school system of our native
land. The storm of the French Revolution broke out. In the year
1799, foreign armies swept across the plains of our fatherland, and
encountered each other in murderous conflict ; even the mountains
and high alpine valleys did not escape from the bloody game.
Poverty, hunger, and lack of occupation were especially severe in the
eastern part of Switzerland ; many parents could not maintain their
children. Sympathy awoke in the hearts of the nobler men in the
less severely pressed portions of the country ; and from many sides
there flowed in liberal gifts, often accompanied with the offer to re-
ceive and bring up needy children. Such an invitation came to pas-
tor Steinmuller from his friend Fischer, in Burgdorf, who was then
intrusted with the reorganization of the Swiss schools. The wish
was at the same time expressed that he would also send a teacher of

rf*0 HERMANN KRUSI

the requisite capacity and character for receiving a training as teacher
and educator, and for undertaking the care of the children then in
Burgdorf with certain benevolent families. Upon the communication
of this invitation to Kriisi, he made no delay ; an inner voice urged
him not to let pass this opportunity for obtaining a further education.
Twenty-six children of both sexes assembled for the expedition.
Kriisi, as leader of the troop, was provided with twenty-four thalers
for the journey, thirty leagues. Pastor Steinmuller, and bailiff Heim,
of the district gave him a testimonial, which we may insert here as a
noteworthy trait of the condition of the times : —

FREEDOM ! EQUALITY ! To all municipal authorities to whom these presents shall
come. Citizen schoolmaster Hermann Kriisi is traveling hence from the canton
Santis to the canton Bern, with twenty-six poor children, whom he is taking to
Burgdorf, where sympathizing benefactors will support and care for them for a
time. It is my earnest and hopeful request to all municipalities, and especially to
their citizen presidents, that they will kindly afford all needful help to the above
named children and to their leader, sent forward by my means as above ; that
they will, as far as possible, kindly provide for them rest and refreshment at noon,
and lodging at night, without pay. For such benevolent assistance, may the Lord
bless you.

Thus asks and wishes

Gais, January 20, 1800. . JOB. Run. STEINMULLER, Pastor.

1 join in the above request to all citizen presidents and citizen members of
municipalities of all communes and districts, to which these needy children shall
come, on their way hence to Burgdorf ; and am fully convinced that all benevolent
persons will, without further recommendation, assist the poor caravan to reach its
destination as easily and successfully as possible.

The provincial under-bailiff of the circle of Teufen.

SAMUEL HEIM.

Of the journey itself we need only remark briefly that Kriisi, with
his troop, was everywhere received in a friendly manner ; and in
many places they were entertained gratis, and even received gifts of
money. His "Recollections" give an account of this. It deserves to
be mentioned, as remarkable enough to remind us of the widow's
cruse of oil, that, at Krusi's arrival at Burgdorf, he was in possession
not only of the twenty-four thalers with which he had set out, but of
fifteen gulden besides ; of which he retained the latter, but sent the
former back to the authorities of Gais.

From Fischer, at Burgdorf, Kriisi received a most friendly welcome,
and commenced his school. The former, however, soon after died,
and Krusi would have been left quite alone again, had not Providence
pointed out to him a new path, by means of the appearance of a man
whom he followed with entire confidence.

This was Pestalozzi, whose labors at his estate of Neuhof, and in
Slanz, are among the noblest facts of history. It was when already
of adult age that Pestalozzi, with warm enthusiasm and profound

HERMANN KRUSI. 327

love, had conceived the idea of becoming an educator and teacher of
the poorer classes, then deeply degraded both in intellect and morals ;
and giving to education in general a more natural direction. After
Fischer's death, he therefore invited Kriisi to form a connection with
himself, and with him to conduct the school which he had established
in the castle of the place. This school, which Pestalozzi had at first
commenced only with little children, was soon changed into an edu-
cational institution of a higher grade, which, by means of the entirely
new direction of its operations, met with great success. Joy and
pride must have filled Pestalozzi's breast, as he soon saw, one after
another, young and talented men — Tobler from Wolfhalden, previous-
ly a tutor in Basle, Buss from Tubingen, Niederer from Lutzenberg,
previously a pastor in Sennwald — full of enthusiasm, leaving each his
sphere of labor and resorting to him as trustful disciples to a master
who yet could reward them with no earthly treasure except a treas-
ure of rich experience and of deep knowledge of the human heart.

The assemblage of these three Appenzellers will remain remarkable
for all time. Each of them developed his own side of the Pestaloz-
zian idea ; and they were for a long time the ornament and strength
of the institution ; and, after subsequent successful labors in independ-
ent spheres of occupation, they all died within the same year. Krii-
si's letters during this period to his early friend Kern, who is yet alive,
and who lived in close personal relations with him for nearly forty
years, are also of value to the student of human nature. What he
wrote of Tobler, "he possesses my entire respect and love, for I recog-
nize in him uncommon talent as a teacher, and goodness of heart,"
proved entirely true. Tobler had with enthusiasm taken up particu-
larly the idea of Pestalozzi's " Lienhard and Gertrude ;" that of re-
placing mothers in the position originally designed for them, of educa-
tors and instructors for early childhood. Seldom has any man labored
with as benevolent and unostentatious a desire for the good of his fel-
low-men as he, although he was often rewarded by misunderstanding
and ingratitude.

Niederer, also, besides immoveable integrity and warm feelings,
possessed a far-seeing keenness of understanding, which had already
appeared in his correspondence with Tobler, and which at a later
period was displayed in the development of the method with so much
power and breadth that even Pestalozzi himself had sometimes to
yield to the clearness and thoroughness of his views.

It is astonishing to see with what uniformity these men, assembled
from different directions, followed their new path. This was truly a
power from on high. What else could have enabled the former

HERMANN KRUSI.

errand-boy and village schoolmaster, Kriisi, to say in his letters to hia
friend, even before Tobler and Niederer came to Burgdorf, —

uln short, the enterprise advances. The seed of a better education,
one more adapted to human nature, is already sown. It will bear
fruit which as yet no man, not even its discoverer, the noble Pestalozzi-
himself, is expecting."

The self-denying spirit and lofty views with which Pestalozzi 'a
assistants at this early period were imbued, is powerfully shown by
the fact that Kriisi and Buss, being allowed a salary of about $125-
a year each from the Helvetic government, appropriated the whole to
the support of the institution, receiving from it only board and
lodging.

We will here introduce Pestalozzi's own account of Krusi's previous
labors. It affords a valuable view of his character and gifts as a
teacher, as well as hints of the general methods of teaching in those
days, and of the power with which Pestalozzi's ideas, even in their
then undigested and obscure condition, seized upon the minds of
ignorant but earnest and unprejudiced men : —

Kriisi, the first of the three, whose acquaintance I made, had past his youth in
a different kind of employment, whence he had acquired that variety of practical
abilities, which, in the lower stations of life, so frequently gives the first impulse
to a higher degree of development, and by which men, who have been in this
school from their earliest childhood, are enabled to become more generally and
extensively useful.

In his twelfth and thirteenth years, his father, who carried on a petty traffic,
used to send him, with a small capital, amounting to about six or eight pounds
sterling, for the purchase of different kinds of merchandise, to a distance often to
twelve miles ; to this employment he joined the trade of a sort of public messen-
ger, carrying letters and executing various orders for the people of his village.
When he grew older, he filled up his leisure days by weaving, or other <^aily
labor. At tin- a ire of eighteen, he undertook the office of village schoolmaster at
Gais,* his native place, without any kind of preparation. He says himself that he
did not know the signs of punctuation, even by name; ulterior knowledge wa*
out of the question, because he never had any other instruction than that of a
common village school, which was entirely confined to reading, writing copies,
and learning by rote the catechism, &c. ; but he was fond of children, and he en
tertained the hope that, by means of this post, he should be enabled to gain for
himself that knowledge and education, the want of which he had felt very op-
pressively, even in his expeditions as village messenger ; for, being commissioned
to buy a variety of articles, of artificial preparation, and of strange names which
he had never heard in his life before, such as ammoniac, borax, and so on ; and
being at the same time placed in a responsible situation, in which he had to re-
member every, even the most trifling order, and to account for every farthing; he
could not but be struck with the idea, what an advantage it would be, if every
child could, by school instruction, be brought to that degree of ability in reading,
writing, ciphering, in all sorts of mental exercises, nnd in the art of speaking itself,
which he felt he ought to be possessed of, even for the discharge of his miserable
post as village messenger.

Even so soon as the first week, the number of his scholars exceeded one
hundred. But he was by no means competent to the task he had undertaken,

* A village, or, rather, a cluster of hamlets on the highest and most airy part of the canton
Appenzell, celebrated as a place of resort for persons of consumptive habits, on account of iU
excellent milk, of which, however, the patients take only the whey.

HERMANN KRtfSl. 329

for he knew not how to give proper employment to all these children, what to-
teach them, or by what means to keep them in order. All the notions he had hith
erto acquired about keeping school were confined to the " setting " of spelling and
reading lessons, to be "got by heart;" to the "saying" of the same lessons by
turns, followed by the chastisement of the rod if the task was not properly got.
From the experience of his own boyhood, however, he knew likewise that, with
this mode of 4< keeping school," the greater part of the children are idling away
most of the school -hours, and by idleness are led to a variety of follies and im-
moralities ; that in this manner the time which is most available for education is
allowed to pass by without any benefit to them, and that the few advantages which
they may derive from their instruction are not even sufficient to counterbalance
the ill effects which must necessarily result from such '" school-keeping."

Pastor Schiess, the minister of the place, who was very actively combating the
old routine, assisted him in his school, during the first eight weeks. From the
very beginning they divided the scholars into three classes. With this division,
and the usj of some spelling and reading-books on an improved plan, which had
recently been introduced in the school, they succeeded in making a number of
children spell and read together, and thus keeping them generally occupied to a
far greater extent than had been possible before.

The new reading-book, that had been introduced by the minister, contained
religious truths in short paragraphs, and in biblical sentences ; various facts of
physical science, natural history, and geography, were concisely stated, and in-
formation was given on interesiing points of the political constitution of the country.
Kriisi observed his pastor, when he read it with the children, putting some
questions at the end of each paragraph, in order to see whether they actually un-
derstood what they had read. Kriisi tried to do the same thing, and succeeded
in making most of the scholars perfectly familiar with the contents of the reading-
book. But this was only because, like good old Iluebuer,* he adapted his
questions to the answers which were to be found, ready made, in the book, and
because he neither demanded nor expected any other answer, except literally
those which the book had put into the children's mouths, long before any question
was devised to elicit them. The true reason of his success was, that there was a
complete absence of all mental exercise in this his system of catechisation. It is,
however, to be observed, that that mode of instruction which originally was
termed catechisation, is, no more than Kriisi's system of questioning, an exercise
of the mind; it is a mere analysis of words, relieving the child, as far as words
are concerned, from the confusion of a whole sentence, the different parts of which
are presented to the mind separately and distinctly ; it can, therefore, only have
merit when used as a preparatory step to the further exercise of clearing up the
ideas represented by those words. This latter exercise, commonly termed So-
cratic instruction, has only of late been mixed up with the business of catechising,
which was originally confined to religious subjects exclusively.

The children thus catechised by Kriisi were held up by the minister as ex-
amples to his elder catechumens. Afterward it was required of Kriisi, that ho
should, after the fashion of those times, combine this narrow analysis of words,
called catechising, with the Socratic manner, which takes up the subject in a
higher sense. But an uncultivated and superficial mind does not dive into those
depths from which Socrates derived spirit and truth; and it was, therefore, quite
natural that, in his new system of questioning, Kriisi should not succeed. He
had no internal basis for his questions, nor had the children any for their answers.
They had no language for things which they knew not, and no books which
furnished them with a well-framed answer to every question, whether they
understood it or not.

Kriisi, however, had not then that clear insight into the nature of those two
methods which might have enabled him to apprehend their difference. He had
riot yet learned that mere catechising, especially if it runs upon abstract terms,
leads to no more than the art of separating words and handling analytical form*1 ;
but that, in itself, it is nothing but a parrot-like repetition of sounds without un
derstanding : nor was he aware that Socratic questions are not to be addressed

* u Good old Huebner" is the author of a Scripture history in German, to which are at-
Cached sets of '-useful questions and answers," such as our readers may fine! in many a
"good new" manual of our •' enlightened and improved systems."

330 HERMANN KIM si

to children, such as his pupils at Gais, who were * uually destitute of the internal
fund, that is, of real knowledge, — and of the « xternal means, that is, of lan_ruaire
wherein to convey that knowledge. Tin- failure of his attempt rend. -red him
unjust to himself; he thought the fault lay entirely with himself, imagining that
. -\ei-y good schoolmaster must be able, by his questions, to elieit from the children
correct and precise answers on all manner of moral and religious subjects.

We have already noticed the circumstances which brought Krii-i
to Burgdorf.

The more he labored with Fischer the higher seemed to him the mountain
which lay in his way, and the less did he feel in himself of that power which he
saw would be necessar)' to reach its summit. However, during the very lir>t
•days after his arrival, Kriisi was ptvs.-iit at some of the conversations I had with
Fischer on the subject of popular education, when I expressed my decided disap-
probation of the Socratic manner of our young candidates, adding, that it was not
my wish to bring children to a premature judgment, on any subject, but that my
endeavor was rather to eheek their judgment, until the children should have an
opportunity of viewing the subject from all sides, and under a variety of circum-
stanci s, and until they should be perfectly familiar with the words expressive of
its nature and its i|iialit;es. Kriisi was struck with these remarks: he felt it \\a«-
there that his own deficiency la} ; he found that he himself stood in need of that
same elementary instruction uhich I designed for my children.

Fischer exerted himself with all his power to introduce Kriisi to different de-
partments of science, that he might he able afterward to leach them. But Kriisi
felt every day more that the way of books was not the one for him to make
progress in, because on every subject he was destitute of that preliminary
knowledge of things and their naiiu s. \\hich, t<» a Beater or lesser extent, l>ooks
presuppose. Mn the other hand, he witnessed the effect which I produced upon
my children, by leading them back to the first elements of human knowledge, and
by dwelling on these rleim nts with unwearied patience; and the result of his
observation tended to confirm him in the notions he had formed concerning the
causes of his own inability. Thus by degrees his whole view of instruction under-
went a great change, and he began in his own mind to place it on a different
foundation. He now perceived clearly the tendency of my experiments, which
was to develop the internal power of the child rather than to produce those
results which, nevertheless, were produced as the necessary consequences of my
proe , nd seeing the application of this principle to the development of

different faculties l»y diffen-nt branches of instruction, he came to the conviction
that the effect of my method was to lay in the child a foundation of knowledge
and further progress, such as it would be impossible to obtain by any other.

Fischer's death accelerated the union between Pestalozzi and Kriisi,
which had been contemplated by the latter almost from the first
moment of his acquaintance with his paternal friend. The following
account of the view which he took of Pestalozzi's plan, after he had
for some time enjoyed the advantage of practical co-operation with
him, is, notwithstanding its great deficiencies, an interesting testimony
in favor of the experiment, in the course of which these ideas urged
themselves upon an evidently unprejudiced mind.

1. A well-arranged nomenclature, indelibly impressed upon the mind, is to
serve as a general foundation, on the ground of which both teacher and children
may, subsequently, develop clear and distinct ideas on every branch of knowledge,
by a gradual but well-secured progress from the first elements.

2. Exercises concerning lines, angles, curves, &c., (such as I began to introduce
at that time,) are calculated to give children such a distinctness and precision in
the perception of objects, as will enable them to form a clear notion of whatever
falls within the sphere of their observation.

3. The mode of beginning arithmetical instruction by means of real objects, or
at least strokes and dots, representing the different numbers, gives great precision

HERMANN KRUSI 331

and certainty in the- elements, ami secures tin- further progress of the child against
error and confusion.

4. The sentences, ill scriptu v of tli • acts of walking, standing, lying, sitting,

&e., winch I gave the children to Irani. led Kriisi to perceive the connection

"> tween the beginnings of my instruction and the purpose at which 1 was aiming,

viz., to produce a general clearness in tin.- mind on all subjects. He soon felt,

-fit if children are made to describe in this manner tilings which are so clear to

»v\ m that experience' can not render them any clearer, they must thereby be

r-ecked in the presumption of descr.bing things of which they have no knowledge ;

ml, at the sain • time, they mint acquir- the power of describing whatever they

Uo know, to a de^i-.-e which wdl enable them to give consistent, definite, concise,

and comprehensive descriptions of whatever falls \vilh:n reach of their observation.

,Y A few words which I dropped on one occasion, on the tendency of my

.ictho 1 to abate prejudice, struck him very forcibly. Speaking of the manifold

xcrtions, and the tedious artrum.-nts, by which prejudices are generally

ombated, I observed that the* • means had about as much power to counteract

.jem as the ringing of the bells had to disperse thunder-storms,* but that the

.nlv true safeguard against the influences of pivjudiee was a conviction of the

.ruth, founded upon self-observation. For truth, so acquired, is in its very nature

jn impediment to the reception of prejudice and error in the mind ; so much so,

hat if men thus taught are made acquainted with the existence of prevailing false

notions l.y th<' never-ceasing cant of society, there is not in their minds any ground for

Miat iirnohl,- seed to rest on, or to grow up in, and the effect must therefore be very

differ. 'lit from what it proves to be in the common-place men of our age, who

have both truth and error thrust into their imagination, not by intuition and

at:on. but by the mere charm of words, as it were by a magic lantern.

\Vh 'ii reflecting upon these remarks, he came to the conviction, that the silence
with which, in my plan of instruction, errors and prejudge • were passed over,
was likely to prove mor. ••tVeetiial in counteracting them than all the endless
verbiage which he had hitherto seen employed for that purpose.

I!. In consequence, of our gathering plants during the summer, and of the con-
versations to which this ijave rise, h • was brought to the conviction that the whole
round of knowledge, to the acquisition of which our senses are instrumental.
d'-pend.-d "ii an att iitive observation of nature, and on a careful collection and
preservation of whatever she presents to our thirst of knowledge.

These were the views on the irround of which he conceived the possibility of
•establishing such a method of instruction ash" f dt was most needed; viz., one
which would cause all the branches of knowledge to bear upon one another, with
such coherence and consistenev as would require, on the part of the master,
nothing but a knowledge of the mode of applying it, and, with that knowledge,
would enable him to obtain, not only for his children but even for himself, all
that is considered to be the object of instruction. That is to say, he saw that,
with this method, positive learning mi^hl be dispensed with, and that nothing was
wanted hut sound common sense, and practicable abilitv in teaching, in order not
only to lead the minds of children to the acquirement of solid information, but
likewise to brinir parents and teachers to a satisfactory degree of independence
and unfett'-red mental activity concerning those branches of knowledge, in which
they would submit themselves to the course prescribed by the method.

During his six years' experience as village schoolmaster, a considerable
number of children, of all ages, had passed through his hands; but with all the
pains he took, he had never seen the faculties of the children developed to the
degree to which they were carried by my plan ; nor had he ever witnessed in
'them such an extent and solidity of knowledge, precision of thought, and
independence of feeling.

He inquired into the causes of the difference between his school and mine.

He found, in the first instance, that, even at the earliest period of instruction,
a certain feeling of energy was not so much produced, — for it exists in every
mind not enervated by artificial treatment, as an evidence of innate power, — as
tept alive in cons -quence of my beginning at the very easiest task, and exercising

* It is a superstitious practice, kept up to this day in many parts of Switzerland and Ger-
many, to ring the church-bells at the approach of a thunder-storm, under the impression that
ie sacred toll will effectually remove the danger.

332 HERMANN KRUS1.

it to a point of practical perfection before I proceeded ; which, again, was not
done in an incoherent manner, but by a gradual and almost insensible addition to
what the child had already acquired.

With this method, he used to say, you need not push on children, you have
only to lead them. Formerly, whatever he wanted to teach, he was obliged to
introduce by some such phrase as this : " Pray, do think, if you please !" " Can't
you remember, now ?"

It could not be otherwise. If, for instance, in arithmetic, he asked, " How
many times seven are there in sixty-three ?" the child had no palpable basis on
which to rest his inquiry for the answer, and was, therefore, unable to solve the
question, otherwise than by a wearisome process of recollection ; but, according
to my method, he has nine times seven objects before him, which he has learned
to count as nine sevens ; the answer to the above question is, therefore, with him,
not a matter of memory ; for although the question, perhaps, may be put to him
for the first time, yet he knew long ago, by intuition and practice, that in sixty-
three there are nine sevens ; and the same is the case in all the other branches
of my method.

To adduce another instance : he had in vain endeavored to accustom his
children to write the initials of substantives with capital letters ;* the rule by
which they were to go was constantly forgotten. Now, on the contrary, the same
children, having read through some pages of a vocabulary constructed on my
plan, conceived of themselves the idea of continuing that vocabulary out of their
own resources, and, by writing long lists of substantives, proved that they had a
clear notion of the distinctive character of that sort of words. The remark which
Kriisi made, that with this method children do not want to be pushed on, is so
correct, that it may be considered as a proof of something imperfect in the mode
of instruction, if the child still requires any kind of stimulus to thought; and the
method can be considered as perfect only where every exercise proposed to the
child is so immediately the result of what he has learned before, that it requires
no other exertion on his part than the application of what he already knows.

Kriisi further observed that the detached words and pictures, which I used to
lay before the children in teaching them to read, produced upon their minds a
very different effect from that of the compound phrases commonly used in schools.
He, therefore, now began to examine these phrases themselves somewhat more
closely, and he found that it was utterly impossible for children to form any
distinct notions of the different words of which they are composed ; because they
do not consist of simple elements before known to the children, and put together
in an obvious connection, but that they are unintelligible combinations of objects
mostly or entirely unknown. To employ children's minds in the unraveling of
such phrases is contrary to nature ; it exceeds their powers, and leads to delusion,,
inasmuch as it introduces them to trains of ideas which are perfectly foreign to
them, as regards not only the nature of the objects to which they ivfeT, Imt
likewise the artificial language in which they are clothed, and of which the
child ren have not even acquired the bare elements. Kriisi saw th.it I was no ad vocate
for this hodge-podge of pedantry ; but that I did with my children as nature does
with savages, first bringing an image before their eyes, and then seeking a word
to express the perception to which it gives rise. He saw that, from so simple an
acquaintance with the object, no conclusions, no inferences followed ; that there
was no doctrine, no point of opinion inculcated, nothing that would prematurely
excite them to decide between truth and error ; it was a mere matter of intuition,
a real basis for conclusions and inferences to be drawn hereafter ; a guide to future
discoveries, which, as well as their past experience, they might associate with the
substantial knowledge thus acquired.

He entered more and more into the spirit of my method ; he perceived that
every thing depended on reducing the different branches of knowledge to their
very simplest elements, and proceeding from them in an uninterrupted progress,
by small and gradual additions. He became every day better fitted to second me
in the experiments which I myself made on the ground of the above principles;
and, with his assistance, I completed, in a short time, a spelling-book, and a
course of arithmetic, upon my own plan.

* In the German langiiaee, every substantive, and every word used as n substantive is
written at the beginning with a cap'i ;il letter.

HERMANN KRUSI. 833

Kriisi himself considered the time he spent in Burgdorf the iiappiest

-•and most fruitful of all his life. The conviction that they were

laboring for a cau.su which was to exert an influence for good upon

thousands of their fellow-men filled all the laborers there with enthu-

Usin, and made every effort and every new creation a delight which

;iey would not have exchanged for all the treasures of earth.

The important year 1805, in which Napoleon decreed the resepa-
.nion of Switzerland, brought the institution at Burgdorf to an end ;
ne castle reverted to the canton and was occupied by the high bailiff'.
•?estalozzi, after contemplating for some time the transfer of his insti-
;ution to Miinchenbuchsee, determined to continue it at Yverdun, on
the lake of Neufchatel. ' For this purpose he received permission to
use the old castle there ; and all his teachers joyfully gathered around
^iim again. In Yverdun, the institution acquired a European reputa-
tion ; from all directions there resorted to it not only pupils, (of whom
.t contained in its most prosperous condition above two hundred,) but
ulso youths and men of riper age and experience, who sought to
become acquainted with the discoveries of Pestalozzi, in order to fit
themselves for learning and teaching in the great field of human edu-
cation. An active and significant life grew up within the walls of
the modest little institution, to which there gathered pilgrims both
great and small from all parts of Europe. The seed there sown bore
fruit a thousand-fold throughout all parts of Germany, and especially
in Prussia, where the benevolent king highly valued the efforts and
the method of Pestalozzi, and sent several young men of talents to
make themselves acquainted with the latter.

Besides this undertaking, whose good influence was intended to
reach boys, youths, and men of all classes and of all beliefs, Pestalozzi's
scheme contemplated also the extension of the advantages of an
improved education to girls, in order that they might be trained in
their great vocation as mothers. To this end he connected with his
institution, in 1806, a girls' institute, under the management of Kriisi
and Hopf, the latter of whom was married. This institution succeeded.
Pestalozzi's best teachers helped to instruct in it. Among those who
patronized i<\ Kriisi always remembered with affection a wealthy
.andowner, (Stamm,) of Schleitheim, who sent to Yverdun not only
four daughters, but a niece as a sort of guardian, two nephews, and a
young man who he was assisting to train himself for the work of
teaching. Truly we might almost say, in the words of Jesus, *• I have
not found such faith, no, not in Israel !" Of the operations of the
nstitution Kriisi says : " It gives us heartfelt pleasure ; but we had
x>t foreseen \he continually greater demands to be made upon our

334 HERMANN KRU8I.

strength and time in order to comply with its i»^::."..emer«ts We
had, therefore, only the choice remaining to devo'* "_r.^elv<is wholly
to one institution or the other. Pestalozzi undertook the management
of the new institution, with which I remained in friendly communica-
tion. The domestic management and moral instruction WPJ-C all
under the charge of several female teachers, until Rosette Kasthofer,
afterward Niederer's wife, resolved to make it the object of her life to
conduct the institution, in order to the accomplishment of Pestalozzi's
views. To this purpose she yet remains true. Although the
shortness of my experience will not allow me to claim the ability to
educate skillful female teachers and good mothers of families, it will
always give me pleasure to remember that the united efforts of my
celebrated friend and myself called the institution into life.*1

Kriisi's wife also received her education in this institution ; but
after he had resigned the management of it. We, and a.'l who knew
him, must agree that the simplicity and goodness of his disposition
peculiarly fitted him for teaching girls, although he first undertook it
at the age of thirty.

Kriisi's recollections of this period were numerous ; but we must
confine ourselves to a very few of them. His acquaintance with.
Katherine Egger, afterward his wife, had already commenced in
1810-12. She subsequently removed to Miihlhausen. to assist her
sister in her school there ; and we shall derive part of our information
from the correspondence between them.

In this correspondence he speaks most frequently of Father Pesta-
lozzi, and of Niederer, who was always intellectually active, but at
that time often depressed in spirits. The reverence and love with
which all the friends and fellow-laborers there, to the ends of tin ir
lives, spoke of Father Pestalozzi, sufficiently refute the incorrect
things now frequently heard on this subject.

Thus Kriisi says in one place : —

44 Father Pestalozzi is always cheerful, and works with youthful;
energy. We often wonder at his enthusiasm, which will yield neither
to labor nor to age. I seek to avoid unpleasant collisions between
dissimilar views; and sincerely desire that my labor may always
satisfy him."

And again, about Niederer.

44 Niederer is working like a giant. A defence of the institution
against wrong impressions and •- tru* oyrv^:*' — ~* *t;ilozzi's-
designs will soon appear "'n ^nr>* Few mti. ...'-. „.;•<: \.v won? like
him."

Even from these few lines we obtain a deep view of the charart»"

HERMANN KRUSI. 335-

of these three fellow-workmen. Of Kriisi's own labors in the institu-
tion we shall let Pestalozzi himself speak, further on. A letter from
Kriisi, January loth, 1812, on occasion of Pestalozzi's birth-day, gives
us a view of the feelings and relations of the pupils toward the father
of the institution :

" The day," (writes Kriisi to his betrothed,) " was a glorious one, and rich in seeds-
and fruits tor the growth and strengthening of the soul and the heart. I can give
you only points of recollections of it : from these points you may complete the
lines and the whole picture from your own fancy." He proceeds to give a cir-
cumstantial account of the festivities in the schoolroom of each class. The decora-
tions in those of the third and fourth classes were especially ingenious. In the
third were to be seen :

a. A transparency of Neuhof, the village of Birr, and the high land of Brunegg.
(It was here that Pestalozzi first attempted to realize his benevolent plans for the
education of poor factory children.)

b. Opposite to this Pestalozzi's bust, of wood, crowned with a wreath of laurels
and immortals.

0. On each side of this, a transparency with an inscription : on the right, in
German, " May God who gave thee to us, bless thy work and us long through
thee !" on the left, in French, " Homage to our father ! the pure joy of our hearts
proclaims our happiness."

The room of the fourth class was arranged to represent a landscape, in which
were to be seen :

a. Cultivated land and meadows.

b. A rock.

c. A spring rising at the foot of the rock, and a brook flowing from it and fer-
tilizing the land.

d. Near this a poor dwelling ; a hut roofed with straw.

e. Over its door the words, " May his age be peaceful."

f. In another place an altar.

g. Over it the words, in a transparency, " May poverty remember him !"
h. On one side of it. " May we live like him !"

1. Upon it, a poor's-box, with a letter from all the members of the class.

As soon as Father Pestalozzi entered the chamber, a little geuius came forward
from the hut to meet him, and handed him the poor's-box and the letter. He
was so surprised and affected that he could scarcely read it. Its contents were
as follows :

u Dear Herr Pestalozzi ;

" It is very little, it is true, which we. both the present and former members
»f the class, save in the course of the year; which amount we now offer you as a
feeble testimony of the depth of our love ; but we are glad to be able to say that
at least it comes from sincere hearts; and shall this please you, our end will have
been gained. It may express to you our purpose hereafter doing still .more for
\he poor, and like yourself, of finding our own happiness in that of others.
May we use well the time of our stay here, and by our efforts evermore deserve
rour love. May you oe nappy among us ! Full of gratitude to God, we embrace
;ou affectionately, with *he wish that you may live to see us fulfill this promise."

The money given amounted to fifty-two Swiss francs. Besides the displays of
Ihe children, the printers had a transparency with the words, " May the press
send forth hereafter no longer your life, but only the ripe and beautiful fruit of
lhat life."

Kriisi also describes some festivities which Pestalozzi arranged for
/lis pupils in order on his part to give them pleasure. From this pro-
duction it is evident with what love and reverence he was regarded
by the members of his household, and how they all endeavored to-
make his days pass in happiness and comfort.

In 1812 Pestalozzi contracted &y carelessness a severe illness,.

386 HERMANN KRUSl.

during which he would have Kriisi almost incessantly with L,
nurse. The latter performed that office with his usual tenderx- ?„ f
self-sacrifice; bearing patiently with his weaknesses, and —a1^
pleasure in every remarkable expression of his friend. Tp'^ ^
writes from the side of the sick bed to his betrothed :

Our father is remarkable even in his sickness. He is wishing and longing to
be well again, and to be able to apply himself to his labors once more ^'>\
renewed strength ; but yet he looks peacefully upon death, close before rfr .
One day while his doctors were consulting about sending to Lausanne tor t
surgeon, he asked them cheerfully if he must set his house in order. When th<7
were gone, he said to Elizabeth, his faithful housekeeper, ( Kriisi 's sister-in-law }
that he was willing to die ; that the world cost him no regrets. To be able <hi«
to look upon life and the eternity is a beautiful and soul-elevating thing. I am :-
hopes that God will spare him to us ; but I can not tell you how much I an
beneh'tted by seeing his peacefulness under such circumstances.

When the disease began to yield to the efforts of the physicians,
Kriisi's joy expressed itself in the following language : " Had the in-
scrutable providence of God taken him from us, I would not resign
for the whole world the recollections of having cared for him and of
having been continually near him. He takes every occasion of
expressing his pleasure at your return and of blessing our union.
May God make you happy with me. You know my faith in the
wise saying, * The father's blessing builds the childrens' house, <fec.' He
will build our house for us ; not of wood or stone, but even if it be
the most lowly hut, a dwelling of peace, love, truth, and pious labor."
iV-taloz/i repaid this love with paternal tenderness. With such
feelings he addressed to Kriisi's intended the following characteristic
words : " Good day, Trineli ! as long as things go well let us see each
other and enjov each others' society. When things no longer go
well, and you see me no more, then do you and Kriisi continue to do
right, and I shall take pleasure in you on the other side of the grave."

Still deeper in feeling are the words which Pestalozzi, in a Christmas
address before all the members of the institution, addressed to Kriisi
personally.*

To Niederer he says : —

Niederer, thou first of my sons, what shall I say to thee? what "hall I wish
thee ? how shall I thank thee ? thou piercest to the depths of truth, and with
steady footsteps goest through its labyrinth. The love of high mysteries condwts
thee. Courageously, with iron breast, thou throwest down the gauntlet to every
one who. wandering in by-paths, strays from the ways of truth, regards apprarnne' s
only, and would deceive his God. Friend thou art my support : my house K sts
upon thy heart : and thine eye beams a 'ight which is its health, though my
weakness often fears it. Niederer ! preside over my house like a protecting slar.
May peace dwell in thy soul, and may thine outward body be no impediment to
thy spirit. Thus will a greater blessing arise to the help of my weakness from
thy mind and thy heart.

Kriisi, be ever stronger in thy goodness. Among lovely children, thyself
xjvely and childlike, thou dost establish the spirit of the house in its goodness; in
the spirit of holy love.

* Tobler hnd already left Yverdun.

HERMANN KRUSI. 337

At thy side and within thy '• 'ing influence, the child in our house no longer
feels that he is without father ->r mother. Thou decidest the doubt whether a
teacher can be in the nlace o A father and mother. Go and fill thy place still
more efficiently and completely.

Kriisi, upon the* ilso I build great hopes, [t is not enough to know the
method of human education ; the teacher must know the mild and easy steps with
which the kind mother leads along that road. That way thou knowest and
.goest ; and thou dost keep the child longer in that loving road of his first instruc-
tion than even his mother can. Complete thy knowledge; and tell us the begin-
nings of childish knowledge, with thine own inimitable union of childlikeness and
definite ness. Thou didst bring Niederer hither as thy brother, and livest with
him in oneness of mind and soul. May the bond of your old friendship ever knit
itself more closely ; you are the firstlings of my house ; and the only ones that
Temain of them. I am not always of the same mind with you ; but my soul
depends upon you. I should no longer know my house, and should fear for its
-continuance, were your united strength to be removed from it. But you will not
leave it, beloved, only remaining firstlings of my house.

We may see from the deep feeling and strong expressions of these
words how much Pestalozzi valued Kriisi's quiet and modest labors,
and how well Kriisi deserved that value. Scarcely one out of twenty
teachers has the ability to enter fully into the nature and needs of
children, to bear patiently with their weaknesses, to be pleased with
the smallest step of progress, and to become fully accomplished in
the profession. Upon the management of such young natures, Kriisi
gives hk opinion in a letter upon the significance of the smallest
opinions. We give an extract from it, as useful and important to all
teachers.

It requires much experience to develop the heavenly from the earthly. I can
assure you of this, that the world is by no means the comedy that it seems-, and
vhat we call indifference is often far more definitely good or bad than men con-
sider. The common appearances of life are only indifferent to us when we do
not understand their connections, and set too little value upon their influence over
us, for weal or woe. But the purer our soul is, the clearer is our perception of
die value or worthlessness of every day and usual affairs ; the more do we become
able to perceive fine distinctions, and the freer do we become in our own choice
and the more independent in our connections.

lie whose perceptions of the infinite varieties of plants have not been cultivated
sees nothing in the meadow but grass ; and a whole mountain will contain for him
scarcely a dozen blossoms which attract his attention. How different is the case
with him who knows the wonders of their construction. He hears himself
adilivssed from every side; the smallest thing has significance for him; he could
employ a thousand eyes instead of his two. In their least parts, even to the very
dust that clings to his fingers, he perceives mysteries which lead his mind to the
loftiest views, and give his heart the liveliest pleasure. As it is here so it is
everywhere. One mother will see only the coarsest physical wants of her child,
and hears it only when it begins to cry. Another will penetrate entirely into its
inner being ; and as she is able to direct this, so she is entirely different in respect
to its outwf \ management. Nothing that concerns it is indifferent to her.
Every thing 4r> expression of its being; and thus even the least thing acquires
a high signifiean. a her eyes.

The small and /oveable children who were so often sent to the Pes-
f&lozzian institution — much to its credit — always attached themselves
especially to Kriisi. From his views as above given, we may imagine
with what wisdom he taught these little ones, and sought to awaken
their minds and preserve their innocence. To l.he same purpose are

IIERMANN KRUS1.

the following notices in his diary, which it is true contain no very im-
portant facts, but which nevertheless, are the clear marks of a mai.
inspired by the holiness of his calling :

" I often pray at evening when T go to bed, that the dear God will let me fina

something new in nature," said W. M. , a boy of ten years old, who had

found in one of his walks, a stone which he had not before known. This holy
habit, (continues Kriisi,) of referring every thing immediately to the Almighty
hand, is a sure sign of a pure soul ; every expression of it was therefore of
infinite value to me. I thanked God that by means of it I had been able to see
further into the heart of this good child.

" It is hard for me to write a letter," said S , when he was set to write to-

his parents, and found it difficult. Why ? said I ; adding, you are now a year
older, and ought to be better able to do it. " Yes," said he, " but a year ago 1
could say every thing I knew ; but now I know more than I can say." This
answer astonished me. It came from deep within the being of the child. Every
child, in his liking and capacity for writing letters, must pass through periods^
which it is necessary for his parents or teachers to know, lest without knowing or
wishing it, they should do the children some harm.

E , nine years old, said yesterday, " One who is clever should not be told

what ' clever ' means. But one who is stupid will not understand it, and he may
be told as much as you like."

Th. T , six years old, sees God everywhere as an omnipresent man before

him. God gives the birds their food 5 God has a thousand hands 5 God sits upon
all the trees and flowers.

J. T , on the contrary, has an entirely different view of God. To him he

is a being far off, but who from afar sees, hears, and controls every thing. Are
you also dear to God ? I asked him. " I do not know," he answered ; "but I
know that you are dear to him. All good men arc dear to him." I was so as-
tonished to hear the child thus express his views of God, and of myself, and his
childlike respect and dependence upon his teacher, that I dared question him no
longer, lest I should not treat with sufficient tenderness and wisdom, this spark
of the divine.

These extracts will sufficiently show that Kriisi considered the
hearts of his pupils as holy things, which it was his business to keep
in the right path. He was never ashamed, even in his old age, ta
learn from children ; and the traits and efforts of earliest childhood
often afforded him help in the construction of a natural system of
instruction.

Every child that I have ever observed, writes Kriisi, in his "Efforts and
Experiences," (Bestrebungen tind Erfahrungen,) during all my life, has pass.-d
through certain remarkable questioning periods, which seem to originate from hi*
inner being. After each had passed through the early time of lisping and stam-
mering, into that of speaking, and had come to the questioning period, he re-
oeated at every new phenomenon, the question, "What is that?" If for
answer he received a name of the thing, it completely satisfied him ; he wished t'
know no more. After a number of months, a second state made its appearance
.n which the child followed its first question with a second : " What is there ii
it ?" After some more months, there came of itself the third question : " Whc
made it?" and lastly, the fourth, "What do they do with it?" These questions
had much interest for me, and I spent much reflection upon them. In the end it
became clear to me, that the child had struck out the right method for developing
its thinking faculties. In the first question. "What is that?" he was try ing to g«'t
a consciousness of the thing lying before him. By the second, " What is tlier*
in it?" he was trying to perceive and understand its interior, and its general and
special marks. The third, "Who made it?" pointed towards the origin and
creation of the thing ; and the fourth, " What do they do with it ?" evidently points
at the use, and design of the thing. Thus this series of questions seemed to me-

HERMANN KRU81. 389

to include in itself the complete system of mental training. That this originated
with the child is not only no objection to it, but is strong indication that the laws
of thought are within the nature of the child in their simplest and most ennobling
form.

That Kriisi was now writing his experiences with a view to others,
and was continually occupying his mind with reflections upon all
the appearances of nature and of life, the following words show :

Thus I have again gained a whole hour of instruction. I had four divisions in
mental arithmetic. Each of them, as soon as it had found the clue, taught itself;
all that I had to do was to oversee, and to assist. It is a pleasure to teach in that
way, and a sweet consciousness rewards the labor. But still, arithmetic is not the
chief subject which occupies my mind. For had I the opportunity, I could do
something in the investigation of language. For if matters turn out as I am in
hopes they may, I shall give some proof that I have not lived in vain. The study
of language leads me on the one hand to nature and on the other to the Bible.
To study the phenomena of the former, and to become familiar with the contents
of the latter, are the two great objects which now demand from me much time,
much industry, and a pure and natural observation of childish character.

The little work alluded to in the above lines, bears the title, " Bib-
lical views upon the works and ways of God." (Biblische Ansichten
uber die werke und wege Gottes ;) and in it the exposition of God's
operations in nature, stated in Biblical language, was carried through
upon a regular plan. Kriisi would perhaps have undertaken the work
in a different manner at a later period ; but the Bible was always to
him a valued volume, in which he studied not only the divine teach-
ings and similitudes of the New Testament, but also the lofty natural
descriptions of Moses, Job, David, &c. The charge of deficiency in
biblical religious feeling has often been brought against the Pestaloz-
zians. For my part I can testify that even the first of them had
studied the Bible through and through, and placed uncommon value
upon it. Their child-like faith and love for everything good and true,
fitted them especially for doing so ; moreover, they were inspired by
Pestalozzi's energetic Christianity. The fact that they always endeav-
ored to bring a religious spirit into every study, and especially into
that of language, by awakening a love of truth, and an active prepara-
tion for every thing good and beautiful, is a clear proof that a high
and Christian ideal was always before their eyes.

Kriisi's heart was, so to speak, in love with the beauties of nature
all his life. In his seventieth year, every flower, tree, sunrise and
sunset, spoke to him as distinctly as the first time he saw them. He
perceived in nature that plain impression of the divine energy which
is often dim to adult men, and is most plainly seen by children. And
he always returned to nature to learn from her. How she awakened
his sensibilities will appear from the following extract which he-
wrote in his diary and afterward sent to his betrothed :

It is Sunday, ;md a divinely beautiful morning. More than an hour before the'
Ming cf tin- sun, the brightness of the morning light could be sc'en upon tho-

340 HERMANN KRUSI

summits of the great Alpine chain, from Mont. Blanc, to the Titlis in Unterwalden.
Now the majestic sun himself in heavenly splendor, arises and lights up everything
before me. Why does he begin his course so quietly that we must watch like a
sparrow hawk, lest he escape our attention and stand there before us unawares ?
If the roll of the thunder were to accompany his rising, how exceedingly seldom
would the dwellers in cities and villages keep themselves away from this divine
spectacle, which no other earthly show even approaches ? And yet none will be
away when the roll of the drum announces the coming of an earthly prince. So
I thought for a moment ; but soon saw the silliness of my meditations. It is the
very nature of light to distribute its blessings in silence. In the moral world it
is the same. The nearer one approaches to the fountain of life, the more silent
are his endeavors to spread around him light and blessings.

At the breaking of such a day it is as if a world were being created again.
Light, air, water, land, plants, beasts, and men, appear to our eyes almost in the
same order in which they were created.

How quickly is everything done which our Lord God creates ! and how fright-
fully slow are we in understanding even the smallest of them ! And besides all
this quickness in creating, and slowness in comprehending, how infinite is the
number of things which God places before our eyes! No wonder that our knowl-
edge always remains mere patchwork, and that we have to postpone so many
things to the other side of the grave, in the hope that there, free from the bonds
of the earthly body, we shall progress with an ever increasing speed from knowl-
edge to knowledge, and shall clearly understand how everything exists, in God,
which was dim and perplexed to us here.

A strong and encouraging indication of our own inward worth appears in the
expression, " The spirit explaineth all things, even the deep things of God." But
it is a trouble to most men, that they cannot approach God by some other means
than by the spirit; by their perceptions, or by their knowledge. He only can
approach God by the spirit, to whom nature opens her mysteries ; to whom her
operations and her purposes are known. But how few are there who attain ev.-n
to an A B C of knowledge of the world, from which, as from a living spring, they
may gain a pure and worthy conception of their creator. How often must even
he who has made the study of nature the business of his life, whose knowledge
surpasses that of millions of his fellow beings, stand still before the most common
physical, mental, or moral phenomenon, and exclaim : such mystery is too won-
derful for me, and too high ; I can not understand it.

Then hail to thee, human heart ! Through thy feelings is it, that we can ap
proach more nearly to God than through our intellectual powers.

The fundamental human relation is that of childhood. It is based entirely upon
love. Without our own consent we enter into it. And this same condition is
again the highest aim which man can propose to himself, as his best preparative
for heaven. The mind loses nothing by this preeminence of the heart ; on the
contrary, it is this very preeminence in the growth of feeling, and in purity,
which gives a higher character to the power and exercise of the mind.

The effort of men to know things here, as God knows them, to display the
order of the heavens, the powers of the earth, and the relation of the mind, in the
light of earthly truth, are a holy trait of humanity, but men in general can not
find rest by these efforts. Everything elevating in the idea of the creator and
ruler of the world must appear to them under the mild aspect of a father, if it is
to be beneficial and elevating to them. Without this appearance, his omnipotence
would be fearful to the weak mortal, his presence painful, his wisdom indifferent,
and his justice a two edged sword, which hangs continually over his head and
threatens to destroy him. Only by childlike faith in the fatherhood of God can
our race feel itself cared for, elevated, supported and guided ; or cultivate confi-
dence, gratitude, love and hope, without a destructive conflict with opposing feelings.

The reestablishment of this child -like condition and the revivification of the
holiness which proceeds from it, are the things by which Christ has opened a way
to God, and become the saviour of the world.

Through him is it that the pure in heart may see God. The simplest man baa
the powers necessary for this purpose. They are only the powers that the child
exerts when he recognizes the love of his parents, in the care which they bestow
upon him.

HERMANN KRUSI. 341

Truly, it is wonderful how both termini of the development of our nature— the
being a child, and the becoming a child of God, should be so nearly connected
with each other.

A holy confidence in God is shown in the letters in which he
speaks of his prospects for a certain support in the future. His be-
trothed, who like him had been left destitute by the storm of the
revolution, had wandered away from Glarus, her native land, with a
troop of poor children, and had been received and supported by some
respectable and benevolent people in Zurich, had of course no prop-
erty : and Krusi's new place with Pestalozzi, had much more attract-
ion for the friend and follower, than for one prudent in pecuniary
matters. Although Krusi's approaching marriage must have made a
certain income more desirable to him, he still felt no solicitude about
it, like a true believer in the words of Jesus, "Take ye no thought,"
etc., but expressed himself as follows :

God will provide. Whoever is conscious of strong love and honest aims in
lift.-, should act with freedom, and believe in the prophecy that all things will be
for the best. Has not the being who guides all things, thus far watched wonder-
fully and benevolently over us and our connection ? Many are troubled lest they
shall not receive what is their own. Is it carelessness in me that I have no such
feelings ?

I thank God for the powers which he has given you and me for our duties ; I
feel much more solicitude that we may use these powers worthily of the benevo-
lent God. At every rising of uneasiness I seem to hear God saying to me as
Christ did to his disciples on the sea, 4i Oh ye of little faith !"

Kriisi at last managed to complete the indispensable arrangements
for bringing his wife from Miihlhausen ; and he was married at Lenz-
burg, in 1812. His wife entered with confidence upon her new
sphere of life, with a man who was not only her lover, but her teacher
and her paternal friend. He was not an inexperienced youth, but a
man thirty-seven years old, in the prime of his strength, and with a
ripeness of experience and thought, seldom found even at his years.
His wife too, although considerably younger, had also seen the rougher
side of life, and had also felt the inspiring influence of a right method
of education.

After his marriage, Kriisi occupied a private house near the castle,
where he had charge of the deaf and dumb children of his friend
Naf, as long as his connection as teacher with the Pestalozzian
institution continued. This now soon came to an end, and under cir-
cumstances so unpleasant that we should prefer to be silent upon
them, were it not for removing from one of Pestalozzi's oldest teach-
ers the charge of ingratitude, which many well informed readers have
believed in consequence of this separation.

There has seldom been a man who has had so many friends and so
few enemies, among so great a variety of men, as Kriisi ; thanks to
his mild and peace loving disposition. It was his principle always

342 HERMANN KRUSI

rather to withdraw himself, than to make the evil greater by obstinacy
or violence in maintaining- his views. This habit stood him in good
stead in the quarrel which at this time threatened to destroy Pesta-
lozzi's institution. But how was it possible, it may be asked, that men
engaged in such a noble enterprise, could not go on in harmony with
each other? It was the work of one man, a graduate of the Pesta-
lozzian institution, endowed with uncommon mathematical talents,
who sacrificed the peace of the institution to his unbounded ambition.
This man, Schmid by name, had contrived, under the name of a
guardian, to gain the entire control of the aged Pestalozzi, and little
by little to alienate him from all his old friends. As early as 1808,
Kriisi had concluded that he could not with honor remain longer in
the institution, and had accordingly written an affecting letter of
farewell to Pestalozzi, from which we make the following extracts :

Dear Herr Pestalozzi :

God knows that I have always sought with an honest heart, the accomplish-
ment of your holy plans. Whenever I have thought it necessary to differ from
you, it has been without any ulterior views, from love for you and for the good
of humanity.

For eight years the undisturbed possession of your paternal love has made me
the happiest of men. Your present expressions upon the sequel of this relation,
pierce so much the more deeply, the less I feel that they are deserved. (Here
follow some reasons for his withdrawal.)

If it shall be permitted to me to live for the darlings of your heart, the poor,
and to prepare their children to receive the benefits which your efforts have se-
cured for them, there will again awaken in your soul some faith in my gratitude,
my love, and my earnest endeavor not to have lived by your side, in vain.

Still further, dearest Pestalozzi ; if I have been to blame toward you, it was only
by error. Forgive the child who with sorrow and grief tears himself away from
his father and his friend.

Whether this letter was delivered to Pestalozzi, is not known.
Kriisi did not leave at that time, although Tobler did, dissatisfied for
various reasons, and sought another field of labor at Basle.

Schmid was at last, in 1810, removed from the institution, and for
a few years the old good understanding prevailed there again. But
when he returned and took charge of the financial department, (Pes-
talozzi, who was well known for a bad housekeeper, not being compe-
tent for it,) the quarrel came up again, directed this time chiefly
against Niederer and his noble wife, but also against all the other faith-
ful laborers in the institution. Thus, by a departure of many of the
best teachers, especially the German ones, it lost many of its brightest
ornaments; and in the year 1816, Kriisi also, with a bleeding heart,
sent his resignation to Pestalozzi, whom even in his error he loved and
respected ; but for whom at that time another person spoke, in terms
of the bitterest contempt, and most irritating coldness. There is,
however, some trace of the old affection, in Pestalozzi's answer to
Krusi's letter :

HERMANN KRUSI. 343

With sorrow I see a connection dissolved, which I would willingly have contin-
ued unto my death, had it been possible. It was not, however, and I receive your
•explanation with the affection which I have always felt for you, praying God to
better my pecuniary condition, so that I may be enabled before my death to show
that I respect the relation in which I have so long stood to you. Greet your wife
and embrace your child for me, and believe me ever your true friend,

Yverdun, 17th Feb., 1816. PESTALOZZI.

In the letter of Kriisi, just quoted, he expresses his earnest wish
to labor for the education of the poor. The same is found in the fol-
lowing to his betrothed ; " My inmost wish is to be able to labor in
some way, according to the idea of our father, for the education of
poor children. We both know what poverty is, and how sorely the
children of the poor need help, that they may live worthy and satis-
factory lives. It is for us to afford this help. I feel it my vocation,
and feel that I have the ability, to do for the poor whatever God has
rendered me capable of doing. You must help me. Female instinct
must join with manly strength for the accomplishment of this object."

The wish thus expressed was never gratified. It was to be Kriisi's
chief occupation to instruct the children of parents in good circum-
stances, until at a later period his situation in a seminary whose pupils
were then, and have been since, mostly from the poorer classes, and
who thus have influence both upon the poor and the rich, at least per-
mitted it partial gratification.

After his separation from Pestalozzi, Krusi set about the establish-
ment of an institution of his own, which he did in fact afterward
open, with very little other help than his confidence in God. He
purchased a small house, pleasantly situated on the Orbe, by the
assistance of a benevolent friend, who lent him a considerable sum,
without security, and had the pleasure of seeing an increasing number
of parents send their children to him. It was especially gratifying to
his patriotism that his first pupils were from his native place of Gais,
where they yet live as respectable citizens. In his institution he pro-
ceeded upon the Pestalozzian plans ; and the happiness of his labors
was only troubled by the knowledge that his paternal friend was con-
tinually more closely entangled in the snares of the intriguing
Schmid, so that even Niederer was forced to leave the institution in
1817.

Although Kriisi was now happily established as father of a family,
his first child was born in 1814, and teacher of a prosperous school,
yet another destiny was before him, and as previously, without his
own cooperation.

In his own little native territory, the public-spirited Hans Caspar
Zellweger and others, had conceived the useful idea of seeing a canto-
nal school for the higher education of native youth, who were then

HERMANN KRUSI.

able to command no other means of instruction in their own country
than the ordinary village school. Herr Zuberbiihler was appointed to-
the charge of the institution. He had been in the troop of poor
children who went with Kriisi to Burgdorf ; and was peculiarly fitted
for his place, by his acquirements and by the mildness of his charac-
ter. But man proposes and God disposes. Zuberbiihler was soon
seized by an illness, which brought him to the edge of the grave, and
which profoundly impressed him with the idea of his own helplessness
and the danger from it to his institution. It being necessary to
employ another teacher, he invited Kriisi, who was now well known
in that neighborhood since his abode near it, and who had besides
during the journey into Appenzell, in 1819, made himself acquainted
with various influential men there. Soon after this journey he made
another to Karlsruhe, Frankfort, Wiesbaden and Schnepfeuthal, near
Gotha, where he visited the excellent Gutsmuths, who has done so-
much for the art of gymnastics. It was in 1822 that the news of
Zuberbiihler's illness reached him, and of his own invitation to the
place of director. The prospect of being useful to his fatherland was-
irresistible to him ; and he was also influenced by the promises of an
assured income and of entire freedom in modes of instruction. The
reputation of his own institution was already great, as will be under-
stood from Kriisi's own mention of the fact as a rare one, that even
while he was at Yverdun, pupils were sent to him from three-quarters
of the world ; some by French merchants from Alexandria, in Egypt,
and one from the capital of Persia, Teheran, 800 leagues distant.
This may, however, be in some measure ascribed to the fame of the
Pestalozzian institution. A very respectable lady from Memel had
besides taken lodgings in Krusi's house with her two daughters, in
order to learn under his guidance how to instruct them ; and the
same thing happened afterwards with an English family at Gais.
Kriisi, however, did not hesitate long, but accepted Zellweger's offei
in a respectful letter. He himself went first alone to Trogen, and pro-
ceeded to his sick friend, Zuberbiihler. He says, " When I entered
the room Zuberbiihler put his hands before his eyes and burst into-
tears. It relieved his heart to know that I had come to continue the
work which he had so well begun." In fact, he grew better from that
very day, and was soon completely well. In his native place of Gais,
Kriisi attached himself, especially to his early friend Kern, who had
traveled to Yverdun to see him. He also had the great pleasure of
finding his old friend, the good-natured Tobler, at the head of an
institution in St. Gall ; where afterwards he often visited him.
Having after a time removed thither his effects and his family, Kriisi

HERMANN KRtlSl. 345-

with his two assistants, pastor Banziger from Wolfhalden, and Egli
from Hittnem, commenced operations in his new place, in the cantonal
school at Trogen.

Want of space will oblige me to be brief in our account of Kriisi's
stay at Trogen and Gais. Most readers are however better acquainted
with this part of his life than with the earlier. This earlier period is
especially valuable for teachers, as being that of the Pestalozzian
discoveries, and of the enthusiasm which attended them. The later
period is occupied more particularly with the further development of
it. The institution at Trogen soon gained reputation. At first, most
of the pupils were from Appenzell ; but afterwards quite a number
came from the canton and city of Zurich, and a less number from the
cantons of Biindten, Thurgan, St. Gall and Basle, and several from
Milan. There was an annual exhibition, which was always interest-
ing, both as showing the progress of the pupils, and the spirit of the
institution, and from the addresses made by the director, and Herren
Kasper Zellweger, and Dean Frei ; most of which have also appeared
in print. The situation of the institution, in a somewhat retired
place, had the advantage of withdrawing the pupils from material
pleasures and the attractions of the world ; in the stead of which were
offered many enjoyments of a nobler kind in the pleasure of nature,
and in the use of an excellent play-ground and garden. Although
none of the studies, (which included the ancient and modern langua-
ges,) were carried so far as in many institutions of a higher grade, its
results were very favorable, from the harmonious labors of the three
teachers, and from the efficient character of the method by which
Krusi aimed always at increasing the capabilities of his scholars, and
the industry of most of the pupils. There were, it is true, sad excep-
tions ; and if the teachers did not succeed with any such pupils, there
were often put under their charge a number of ill-taught or orphan
children. Many were by Kriisi's friendly and earnest admonitions,
caused to reflect, and brought into the path of virtue, no more to
leave it. Krusi, who always himself took charge of the instruction
and management of such pupils, tried mild methods at first, as long
as he had any hopes of succeeding with them ; at lessons he was
cheerful, pursuing every study with love and pleasantly encouraging
every smile from his scholars which proceeded from honest animation.
He became severe however upon the appearance of any falsehood,,
rudeness or immorality, and at such times every one feared the wrath
of the angry and troubled father.

In 1832, one of the places of assistant teacher became vacant by
the death of Herr pastor Biiriziger, in whose stead he placed Herr

346 HERMANN KRUSI.

Siegfried of Zurich, an active and learned man. Meanwhile anoth^i
change was at hand in Kriisi's lot. His earnest wish to devote him-
self to the training of teachers was to be gratified ; although even in
the cantonal school he had done something in this direction.

Since the year 1830 the cause of popular education had been gain-
ing new life in many cantons of Switzerland. Funds were raised in
many places for the establishment of new schools which were to be
assisted by the State ; the position of teacher began to be considered
more respectable, and to be better paid ; although neither a fair
price nor this respect were paid in more than a few places. Clear-
minded men however saw that in order to the improvement of popu-
lar education, the teacher must first be educated ; that for this
purpose teachers' seminaries must be established. The question of
the choice of a director for the seminary at Zurich, being under con-
sideration, Kriisi was mentioned by various persons, and particularly
by the celebrated composer and firm admirer of Pestalozzi, Nageli.
Although this place, as the sequel showed, was not the right one for
Kriisi, he still considered it his duty to think over the matter, and to
•communicate his views upon it, which he did in a letter to his friend
Bod m er, at Zurich, from which we extract the following :

The higher education was always the field in which I hoped to labor, if it were
th'- \\ill of' God, and to plant in it some good seed for the common schools of my
native land. Thirty years ago, I hoped that I had found such a Held, in the Swiss
seminary, established in 1802, by the Helvetian government, under Pestalozzi as
teacher. The act of mediation broke up the plan by disuniting tli«- cantons, and
the schools for the common people with them ; but the investigation of the laws
of i-dneation had always been since that a favorite pursuit with me. During a
rich experience at Prstalozzi's side, and during researches up to this time uninter-
rupted, for the purpose of establishing a system of natural education, it has been
my hope to be able to labor efficiently for the school system of my native land.
The canton of Zurich is one which rather than any other I would glady see the
first in Switzerland in furthering this most high and noble object. But I ought
not to hide from you my fears, whether :

1. I can count upon being able to carry out Pestalozzi's system of elementary
education, freely and without hindrance. In that I recognize the only means of
awakening the intellectual life of the teacher, or of bringing the same into the
«chool.

2. The strict necessity of cooperating labor would be regarded in the choice of
a second teacher. They should each supplement the work of the other ; and this
•can only happen when their efforts are put forth in the same spirit and for the
same object.

3. There should be a model school, which I consider an indisputable necessity
for the seminary. It is not as a place of probation for new scholars that I desire
this, but as affording an example of the correct bodily, material, moral and
religious training of the children.

4. Sufficient care should be taken in the selection of a place for the seminary,
that the supervision of its morals should be as much facilitated as possible. The
pupils of such a seminary are usually of an age most difficult to manage ; and
their own moral character subsequently has a strong influence upon that of their
•scholars.

When Kriisi at last entered upon his long desired field of labor, in
1833, being appointed director of the teachers' seminary, erected in

HERMANN KRUSI. 317

that year, he felt the liveliest pleasure. The object of his life seemed
to him now to stand in a clear light before him, and to open to him
the prospect that his country men would reap the harvest, whose seed
he had sown in the spring of youth, and watched over in the sum-
mer. Honor to our Grand Council, and to those who were the cause
of the resolution, to spread such manifold blessings among our people
and blooming youth. Honor to them, that they gave to poor but
upright and study-loving youth, the means of training themselves for
teachers in their own country, and of learning its necessities, that they
might be able to labor for their relief. With gratitude to God, the
wise disposer of his fate, Kriisi left the cantonal school, and proceeded
to Gais ; recalling with emotion the time forty years before, when as
an ignorant youth he had there taken up the profession of teaching,
himself afterward to become a teacher of teachers.

He considered the years of his labor in Gais, among the happiest
of his life. To pass the evening of his days in his native country and
liis native town, to communicate the accumulated treasures of his
teachings and experience to intelligent youth, to labor surrounded by
his own family and with their aid, and to benefit so many pupils, all
tins was the utmost that he had ever dared wish for. This wish was
however to be entirely realized. He conducted five courses, attended
•by sixty-four pupils, and with the assistance of his valued friend, pas-
tor Weishaupt, of his own eldest son, and of Gahler, a graduate of the
seminary itself. During the latter course death overtook him.

A boys' school, and a girls' school conducted by his second
daughter, soon arose near the seminary, forming a complete whole,
over which Kriisi's kind feeling and paternal supervision exercised a
beneficial influence. Hardly ever did three institutions proceed in
happier unity. Many pleasant reminiscences of this period present
themselves ; but the space is wanting for them. Kriisi's skill as
educator and teacher were the same here as elsewhere. He used the
same method, showed the same mild disposition, love of nature and
enthusiasm for every thing beautiful and good. He occupied a posi-
tion even higher in respect of insight and experience, in the comple-
tion of his system of education, as adapted to nature ; and a more
honorable one by reason of his old age and the gray hairs which
began to ornament his temples. But despite of his age, whose weak
nesses his always vigorous health permitted him to feel but little, he
•ever preserved the same freshness of spirit. His method of instruction
-did not grow effete, as is often the case with old teachers. He was
always seeking to approach his subject from a new side ; and felt the
-same animation as of old, at finding any new fruits from his method

348 HERMANN KKUB1.

or his labors. His kind and friendly manners won all his pupils,,
whether boys and girls, or older youth. Nor is it strange that all tin*
other members of the establishment also looked upon him as a father.
An expression of their love and respect appeared on the occasion < f h's
birthday, which they made a day of festival, with a simple ceremonial
speeches and songs. Upon such occasions he was wont to recall the
time of his abode with Pestalozzi ; and his affectionate heart always
impelled him to speak in beautifully grateful language of his never-
to-be-forgotten father and friend, the originator of his own useful
labors, and all his happiness. The crowning event of his happiness
was the presentation on his sixty-ninth birthday, in 1843, the fiftieth
year of his labors as a teacher, by all the teachers who had been
instructed by him, of a beautiful silver pitcher, as an expression of
their gratitude. He looked hopefully upon so large a number of hi>
pupils, and gave them his paternal blessing. Two of his birthday
addresses have appeared in print.

Until April of that yar, Kriisi continued to teach in the seminary
and connected schools. After the completion of his fifth course, he
had hoped to be able to completely work out his system of instruction
and moro fully to write his biography; but this was not to be per-
mitted him. He was able at leisure times to write and publish much
matter ; the last of these was a collection of his poems. These are
valuable, not as artistic productions, but as true pictures of his pure
and vivid feeling for every thing good and beautiful. The fact that bo-
wrote many of his songs to the airs of his friend, pastor Weishaiipt,
shows that he valued high-toned musical instruction. This love of
singing remained with him to the end of his life; and his face always
givw animated if he saw men, youth and maidens, or young children,
enjoying either alone or in pleasant companionship, that elevating
pleasure.

At the annual parish festival of 1844, the old man now seventy,
w;^ present :n Trogen, entering heartily into the exercises of the
occasion, and particularly, the powerful chotal, " Alles Leben stromt
aus Dir" which was sung by a thousand men's voices, and an elo-
quent discourse on common education, by Landarman Nagel. The
fatigue, excitement, and exposure to the weather, which was damp
and cold, were too much for his strength, and in the evening he was
ill, and on the following day he was visited by a paralytic attack,
from which he never recovered, but closed his earthly career on the
25th of July, 1844. His funeral was attended by a multitude of
mourners from far and near, and his body was borne to its last resting;
place in the churchyard of Un\<. Ky the pupils of the seminary.

THE GENERAL MEANS OF EDUCATION.

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF A NEW INSTITUTION FOR BOYS.

BY HERMANN

THE following " Coup cTceir of the General Means of Education,
the Plan of the new Institution which Krusi afterward organ-
ized and managed, was published at Yverdun, in 1818, and presents
the ideas and methods of Pestalozzi, as held by one of his early
assistants and avowed disciples.

The principal means for the education of man are three, viz., 1. Domestic
Life. 2. Intellectual Kducation, or the Culture of the Mind. 3. Religious
Training.

I. DOMESTIC LIFE.

The object of domestic life is the preservation of the body and the development
of its powers. It may therefore be considered the basis of physical life.

The body is a s.-e.l. enveloping the germ of intellectual, moral and religious ac-
tivity. Domestic life is the fertile soil in which this seed is deposited, and in
which this germ is to expand and prosper.

There are three principal relations of domestic life ; of parents to children, of
children to parents, an 1 of children to each other.

In domestic life, love is the center of all the sentiments and actions. It is inan-
il'e>te i in tli-' parents by uiircmittini; care and unbounded self-sacrifice ; in the
children, in return, by perfect confidence and obedience ; and among brothers and
by endeavors to promote each other's happiness. Every event, almost
every moment, of domestic life, stimulates the entire bring, body, mind and soul,
into activity, Ueyond the domestic circle, and the further \\v move from it, the
more remarkable do.-s tin- particular tendency and the isolated action of each
faculty become. .

A seminary should exemplify domestic life in all its purity. The t.-aeher*
should regard the pupils as their children ; the children should regard the teach-
ers as parents, and i aeh other as brothers and sisters. The purest love should
inspire all these relations; and the result should be cares, sacrifices, confidence,
obedience, and reciprocal endeavors to aid in attaining the objects desired.

Such a domestic life prepares the child for mental improvement and religious
-development and habits. Without it, religion will gain no access to the
and intellectual cultivation will only be a means for satisfying the selfish demands
•of the animal nature. I Jut with it, the child is prepared for the successful exer-
cise of the same good qualities and the maintenance of the like relations in a wider
sphere as a man, a citizen, and a Christian.

II. INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION.

The aim of this should be, on one hand, to develop the faculties, and on the
other to develop executive power. The faculties must all be developed together ;
an end only to be attained by the exercises of the active and productive faculties.
In order to real development, the mind must act of itself; and moreover, the
active and productive faculties can not be exercised without at the same time ex-
ercising those which are passive and receptive, (namely, those of comprehension
and retention,) and preparing them for future service with increased advantage.

That alone can be considered the elementary means of developing the mental

350 KRlJSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION.

faculties, which is essentially the product of the human mind: \\hirh tin- mind of
each individual can, and does in fact, to a certain degree produce, independent of
all instruction ; that which spontaneously exhibits itself in each department, and
is, as it were the germ of attainment in it. These essential productions of UK.-
human mind are three; number, form, and language.

The ultimate element of number is unity ; of form, a line; of language, ideas,
which are interior, and sound, which is exterior. Each of these three m< ans
may be employed in two different directions ; to develop, on one hand, the power
of discerning truth, and on the other, that of disc.Tmn^ beauty.

The faculties of the individual can not be developed without his acquiring, at
the same time, a certain amount of knowledge, and a certain bodily skill in the
execution of what the mind has conceived ; and it is an important truth that an
enlightened mind will succeed much better than an unenlightened one in the ac-
quirement of knowledge as well as of every kind of executive ability.

Exercises intended to develop the faculties, like those intended to communicate
knowledge, should succeed one another in a logical (natural or necessary) order;.
BO that each shall contain the germ of that which is to follow, should lead to it,
and prepare for it.

The development of the principal faculties, and the acquirement of a certain
amount of information, are necessary to qualify every individual for his duties as
a man, a citizen, and a Christian. This degree of development, and this amount
of information, constitute the province of elementary education, properly so called,
which would be the same for all. But beyond these limits, the character and ex-
tent of studies should vary, on one hand, according to the indications of nature,,
which destines individuals by different capacities for different callings ; and on the
other hand, according to his situation in life.

In the acquisition of knowledge, an elementary path should be followed, intro-
ductory and preparatory to a scientific method of study. This is suited t<> ih<
child, because it leads from a series of particular facts, it leads upward to the dis-
covery of general truths. The scientific method is suitable only to mature and
enlarged minds, proceeding from general principles, displaying them in their
whole extent, and thus arriving at particular truths.

We shall now point out the proper means of development, and the principal ob-
jects to be attained by th- in ; afterward considering the different ages of child-
hood, and the successive steps in development and order of studies.

First means of development. Number *

SECTION 1. Exercises in number, with reference to truth.

A. Mental calculation ; to give intuitive knowledge of numb.Ts. and their rela-
tions : including

a. exercises on units.

b. " simple fractions.

c. u compound fractions or complex fractions.

In - ach of these three series there are different degrees, namely,

First, (Pre paratory,) Numeration, or learning to count.

Second, Composition of Numbers; e. g., all numbers are composed of units
All even numbers are composed of twos; all triple ones of thnts. vY<-. A]M>,
decomposition of numbers, e. g. ; all numbers may be decomposed into units ; all
even numbers into twos; all triple ones into threes, &e. Also, transformations
of numbers. That is, the mode of composing new numbers from the threes,,
twos or units, coming from the decomposition of an old one.

Third, Determinations of simple relations and proportions.

B. Calculations by symbols. (Figures. 1« -tiers, <fcc.) The object of this is to-
give an intuitive knowledge of rules, under which all operations on numbers may
be performed, and also the ability to express numbers and operations oy signs.
Including,

a. A knowledge of the decimal numerical system.

*We state the means of development in the following order; number, form, language;
because the development of number is simplest and has fewest applications, those of form,
are more varied, and language includes number, form, and all human knowledge When,
we consider the child at different ages, we shall, on the contrary, begin with language, be-
cause by that, begins the development of his understanding.

KR178I, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION 351

b. The four simple rules, addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.

c. The rule of three, throughout.

d. Evolution and involution.

e. Algebra.

C. Applications both ol' mental and written calculation, to the discovery of rela-
tions between numbers and the attainment of skill in the common calculations.
Tins application is to four principal objects, viz.,

a. Extent, according to natural and arbitrary measures.

b. Time and duration.

c.

d. Conventional values.
SEC. 2. Exercises on number, with reference to beauty, viz., Measure in mu-
sic ; the other musical element being sound.

Second means of development. Form.
SKC. 1. Exercises in form, with reference to truth. (Geometry.)

A. Construction of figures from given conditions.
o. With lines determined by points.

b. With planes determined by lines and points.

B. Valuation of lines and surfaces, either by absolute measures, that is, by
comparison of dimensions, or by arbitrary standards.

a. The measure of one dimension (length,) represented by a line.
6. The measure of two dimensions (length and breadth,) represented by sur-
face. (Planimetry.)

c. The measure of three dimensions (length, breadth and thickness,) repre-
sented by solids. (Stereometry.) The higher development, of the same exercises
leads to trigonometry and conic sections.

Together with the application of these exercises to surveying, drafting, &c.
SEC. 2. Exercises in form, with reference to beauty. (Drawing.)

A. Linear drawing, to form the eye and the hand, and to practice invention,
under rules and in forms agreeable to the sight.

B. Perspective.

a. As a result of observation.

6. As the result of geometrical and optical laws.

C. Knowledge and imitation of light and shade.

D. Progressive exercises in drawing from nature.

Third means of development. Language.

SEC. 1. The interior view of language, «'. e., language considered chiefly with
reference to the sense of the words. (Exercises to teach children to make obser-
vations and to express them with ease and correctness.)

A. Maternal and domestic language includes what relates to infancy ; what a
child can comprehend.

a. Exercises in naming objects. Review whatever the child has learned in
actual life, and ascertain if he knows and can name the objects of which he must
•peak.

b. Exercises on the qualities of objects. A quality is explained to the child,
ami he is to search for objects possessing it. Both here and in every subsequent
exercise, the child must be required to give each example in a complete, correct
and strictly true proposition. Each example should contain something of positive
interest.

c. Exercises on actions and their relations. An action is explained to the child,
and he is to inquire and discover who does it, what is its object ; its when, where,
wherewith, how, why. In this practice of observing every action with reference
to the agent, object, time, place, manner, principles and intention, we not only
obtain what this exercise is primarily intended to promote, the development of the
faculty of language, and thereby of general intelligence — but also the develop-
ment in the child of a disposition to explain to himself all he does, and all others
do ; which is likely to have the happiest effect upon his judgment and conduct.

B. Social language ; a development of maternal language.

a. Exercises on families of words. A radical word is chosen, and all its deri-
vatives sought for with the child. lie is made to distinguish with care the differ-

352 KRUSl, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION.

ent meanings, proper or figurative, of each derivative, with a reference to the
meaning of the radical word. He must give each word, and each meaning of it.
in a phrase complying with these conditions, and those above laid down tor
propositions.

b. Exercises on synonyms.

c. Exercises in definitions.

SEC. 2. The exterior of language ; i. c., language with reference to the form
of speech.

A. Exterior of language, with reference to truth.
First. Verbal language.

a. Composition of words.

1. With given sounds.

2. With given syllables. A final syllable, or an initial and final syllable, is
given the child, and he is to find words formed with them; thus acquiring a
knowledge of the roots of words.

3. With simple words. This and the last exercise are preparatory to exer-
cises on the families of words.

b. Composition of phrases.

1. Knowledge of the constituent parts of phrases, (parts of speech.)

2. Inflection of those parts of speech susceptible of it.

3. Construction of phrases with given parts of speech.

c. Composition of periods.

1. Knowledge of the members of a period.

2. Combination of them.

d. Rules for the construction of language.
Second. Written language.

Besides the discourse of the living voice, which is the original and natural
mode of representing our ideas, and which discovers them to the ear, there is an
artificial method which displays them to the eye by means of signs called letters.

The desire of enjoying the ideas of others thus communicated, and of being
able, in like manner, to communicate our own, leads to the study of written lan-
guage, including the following exercises :

a. Combination of the pronunciation of sounds with the knowledge of the
signs by which they are indicated to the eye. (Reading.)

6. Tracing these signs. (Writing.)

c. Expression of sounds by them. (Orthography.)

d. Knowledge and use of signs which indicate the relations of the members of
the phrase or period composed. (Punctuation.)

B. The exterior of language with reference to beauty. (Modulation, accent,
prosody, versification.)

C. Sound, the external element of language, developed in an independent man-
ner with reference to beauty ; constituting one of the elements of music.

REMARKS. The study of the construction of a language constitutes grammar ;
whose laws being correspondent to the laws of thought, grammar leads directly
to logic, in which are united the studies of the interior and exterior of language.

By exercises in logic, and in the formation of language, the pupil is prepared
to compose on given subjects, and to study the rules of composition, (Rhetoric.)

The same exercises will nourish and develop the talent for poetry or eloquence,
where it has been given by nature.

Language, as a production of the human mind, and the expression of physical,
intellectual, and moral life, should be universally the same in principle, since hu-
man nature is everywhere essentially the same. But as the development of hu
man faculties, the circumstances of life, social and domestic relations, variously
differ, this difference must have caused corresponding differences in this produc-
tion of the mind ; that is, different languages. Men associated in a social body
have formed for themselves a certain tongue, which has become their national
language. In order to intercourse between different nations, they must learn
each other's language ; hence the study of foreign tongues. This study enables
us in a certain sense to hold intellectual and moral intercourse even with nations
no longer existing ; i. e., by the study of the dead languages.

Those whose mother tongue is derivative, must, in order to understand it per-
fectly, study the primitive language from which it originated.

KRUSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION. 853

SBC. 3. Application of language to the acquirement of knowledge.
Man is the center of all knowledge.

A. Physical man. Knowledge of the body 5 not anatomical, but of the parts
of the animated body.

First degree. Knowledge of the parts of the body.

a. Names of the parts.

b. Number of parts of each kind.

c. Their situation and connection.

d. Properties of each.

e. Functions of each.

/. The proper care of each.

Second degree. Knowledge of the senses.

a. Distinctions and names of the senses.

b. Their organs.

c. Functions of these organs.

d. Objects of these functions.

e. Means of the activity of each organ.

/. Consequences of the action of the senses, sensations, disposition, inclinations.

REMARKS. The child acquainted with the physical man, knows the highest
link of external nature ; the most perfect of organized beings.

Man belongs to the animal kingdom by his body and by his animal affections.
He employs animals for different purposes. The knowledge of physical man con-
ducts therefore to that of the animal kingdom.

Plants are also organized beings, but of an inferior organization.

Man obtains from plants the greater part of his food, his clothing and his reme-
dies. They feed the animals he employs. They adorn his abode. Their fate in
some respect resembles his, like him they grow, they expand, they produce, de-
cline and die. The knowledge of the physical man conducts therefore to that of
the vegetable kingdom.

The mineral kingdom forms the ground of our abode and of that of all orgac
ized bodies, and all return to it when they die. It supplies us with salt, manj
remedies, and the greater part of materials for our habitations. The knowledge
of the physical man conducts then to that of the mineral kingdom.

Fire, air, water and earth compose all terrestrial bodies, wherefore to the ob-
server, without instruments, they appear as elements. The preservation and thr
destruction of all bodies depend upon them. The constant property of fire is to
consume, of air to volatilize, of water to liquify, of earth to mineralize. It is by
their equilibrium that bodies are preserved ; so soon as one of the four overpow
ers the rest, the body subject to its preponderating action must perish. Thus the
study of the three kingdoms of nature leads to that of substances commonly
called elements and this is a preparation and an introduction to the study of physic
and chemistry. •

Physical man, animals, minerals, and elements belong to the terrestrial globe,
the knowledge of which constitutes geography. The study of the earth, regarded
as a planet, leads to astronomy.

Man as a physical being, stands in relation with beings above him, on a level
with him and beneath him. Above him are the elements considered at large and
the laws of physical nature. On his level are his fellow creatures, and beneath
him the individuals of the three kingdoms of nature, and the elements taken in
detail.

B. Intellectual man.

a. Inferior faculties which animals possess in common with man. Faculties
of perception and observation.

b. Intermediate faculties. The faculties of comparison, judgment, and
inference.

c. Superior faculties. The faculty of seeing abstractly, the essence of each
object, and the invariable laws of its nature. The faculty of believing divine reve-
lation, which unites the most elevated powers of the soul and heart.

Faculties formed in each of the preceding degrees, are : —
The faculty of devoting the thoughts to one object, excluding every other
••'attention.)

The faculty of creating any image : (imagination.)

354 KRUSI. VIEWS AND PLAN OF ED

The faculty of receiving and preserving every effort of the understanding
(memory.)

The faculty of discovering beauty : (taste.)

The study of the intellectual faculties leads to the study of intellectual pro-
ductions.

a. For satisfying intellectual wants, that is to say, the essential means for the
expansion of the mind : (Language, number, form.) These three productions
of the human mind have been already represented as essential means for intel-
lectual cultivation.

b. For satisfying corporal wants or to aid the bodily organs to serve the mind.
General knowledge of arts and trades, of the materials they employ, of their
mode of action : (technology.)

C. Moral man.

The germ of morality is in the sentiments of love, confidence, gratitude. Fruit
of these sentiments : (obedience.)

Faculties whose action springs from intelligence and sentiment : will, liberty.
The governing and representative faculty of the will, is with the child the will of
his parents ; among men grown, the will of God: (conscience.)

Man as a moral, intellectual and physical being is in affinity with his superiors, hi&
equals, and his inferiors. Our relation with superior beings commences at our birth :
those then above us are our father and mother. Those with whom we begin to
be in connection when we enter into civil society are persons in authority. The
highest points to which we can ascend in our relation to beings above us is aa
children of God. The fundamental relation of all those with beings on a level
with us, is that of brothers and sisters in the interior of our family. These rela-
tions exist in full extent, and perfection, when we regard all mankind as brethren,
and as forming with us a single family. The fundamental relations of all those
with beings beneath us are those of a father and mother toward their children.
These relations exist in all their perfection and true dignity when we are the rep-
resentatives of the 'Deity, with those committed to our care. The knowledge
of the relationships of which we have just spoken, existing in domestic life, in
civil society, and in religion, the same conducts to that of our rights and duties as
men, as citizens and as Christians.

By exercising a child in the study of himself and of the men around him, his
faculties, the productions of his intellectual activity, the principles and the conse-
quences of his actions, his relative situation to all beyond himself, the rights and
duties resulting from this situation, he is prepared to study the same objects in a
wider sphere, namely, in the human race, where appears in full, all that the in-
dividual offers in miniature ; and this study is the main object of history. The
study of history includes three successive degrees.

1st DEGREE. From the time a child begins to study human nature and as a
confirmation of the truths this study will discover to him, he will be shown par-
ticular and well chosen facts, taken from the history of individuals or nations, facts,
the circumstances of which compose a whole, and form in his imagination, as it
were, a picture after nature. When the child shall have arrived at a certain de-
gree of development, he will be made to bring home all these isolated events to
the men, or to the people, as well as to the time and place, to which they belong.
In this degree the study of history serves principally to feed the imagination, and
the memory.

2d DEGREE. When the young man shall be more advanced in the knowledge
of human nature, he may ascend to the origin of the actual state of the nations
that surround him, beginning with the people of his own country. We may
conduct him to the epoch which has been the germ of this actual state, and seek
with him the successive degrees by which the nation has progressed, as well as
the principles and consequences of each particular event. He will thus learn to
know the current order of history, of the principal nations in existence. He will
then pass on to the history of those now no more. In this degree, the study of
history serves principally as food to the judgment, inasmuch as it connects actions,
causes, and their consequences.

3d DEGREE. Only when the young man shall have become more matured,
acquired a deep knowledge of human nature, and the consequences of the de-
velopment of the individual, is it, that he can with advantage collect the particular

KRUSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION 355

iaots. atid the series of events which he has learned to know, in order to form one
entire whole, and to study in mass, the consequences of the development of the
human species and of each historical personage, which is the essential end of his-
tory, and the highest point to which it can lead. In this degree the study of his
tory serves as food to the mind in its most noble state of action.

Auxiliary means for the development of the faculties and the acquisition of
knowledge. The study of what men have produced, as true, beautiful and good.

1st. Progressive lessons according to the degree of development the child has
attained and the branches of study to which he applies.

2d. Exercises for the memory. To learn by heart beautiful pieces of poetry r
eloquence or music.

3d. Exercise of judgment and of taste: an examination of the productions of
art, to trace therein the principles of truth and beauty.

4th. Imitation and reproduction : declamation of pieces of eloquence, or of
poetry ; execution of musical composition ; copying drawings and paintings.

General means for rendering the body of man able to serve his soul and to ex-
ecute its conceptions. (Gymnastics.)

In domestic life the child's body is the object of most tender care. As the
child expands, he constantly exercises the organs of his senses and of all his mem-
bers. Care on the part of the parents and exercises on that of the child are the
double means of his preservation and his first development. Bodily exercise for a
child comes in the form of plays destined to amuse and divert him. At first they
vary at almost every instant. Gradually they become more steady, and more serious.

The art of education extends and perfects what life itself begins and prepares.
Thus what in its birth was but play and amusement becomes the object of a com-
plete development, of which the very organization of our body points out the aim
and the laws.

Gymnastics present three different degrees.

a. Children's plays ; free exercises produced by unconscious strength and ac-
tivity, and determined by the impulse of the mind and the accidental circum-
stances of life.

b. Progressive and regulated exercises of the limbs. Gymnastics properly so
called.

c. Exercises preparatory to occupations in active life, and to the employment
the pupil is to embrace : Gymnastics of Industry.

By the gymnastic exercises, directed toward the essential object of developing
the physical faculties in harmony with the intellectual and moral, and by care to
preserve the strength and purity of the organs, the body may attain its true des-
tination, namely to serve the mind by executing its conceptions.

Different ages of pupils.

These ages are fixed from a general view of children. In different individuals
nature accelerates or retards the progress of development, so that some enter ear-
lier, some later into each period. There are also individuals who develop more
rapidly in some directions than in others. We must therefore take care that the
backward faculties are not neglected, which would destroy in the individual,
the harmony of human nature.

A. First age ; until five years old.

During this first age, the child is exclusively the object of maternal and pa-
ternal care. He only receives instruction occasionally ; each moment, each cir-
cumstance may furnish a means to fix his attention upon the objects which sur-
round him, and to teach him to observe them, to express his observations and to
act upon them as far as his age will allow. The development which the child
may acquire in this first period is of the greatest future importance. Every .
teacher will find a wide difference between the child whose parents have trained
him with tenderness and judgment and him who has been in the first stage aban-
doned to himself, or what is worse, ill-directed or ill-associated

B. Second age ; from five to ten years.

It is at this period only that a regular course of instruction should begin. At
first this should be but a recapitulation of all the child has learned by the habits
of life, with the simple difference that the objects of the exercises should no longer
be determined by accident, but fixed in one plan, adapted to the intellectual wants

KRUSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION.

of the child. Domestic life thus furnishes, during the first period, the germ*
which a course of instruction ought to develop, and in a great measure decides ita
«uccess.

The following exercises properly belong to this age.

1. Maternal and domestic language.

2. Exterior of language : composition of words, reading, writing, spelling.
We must always take care that the knowledge of the interior of language

keeps a little before the exterior.

3. Elementary exercises in singing.

4. Mental arithmetic with units.

5. Construction of figures according to given conditions, and linear drawing.

6. Application of language and the acquisition of knowledge ; knowledge of
the human body.

There are other exercises which may be begun at this period, but which do not
properly belong to it ; for which reason we put off the mention of them to the
following period.

C. Third age • from ten to fifteen.

1. Interior of language : social language.

2. Exterior of language : composition of phrases and of periods, orthography,
punctuation.

3. Continuation of singing exercises.

4. Mental arithmetic with simple and with compound fractions.
Written arithmetic to the rule of three, in its full extent, inclusively.

5. Geometry properly so called : relation of forms, as far as, and including
stereometry.

Drawing : perspective, shades, drawing from nature.

6. Application of language to the acquisition of knowledge.

a Continuation of the study of the physical man : senses, sensations, inclina-
tions, passions.

b. Intellectual man.

c. Moral man.

d. Knowledge of such natural objects in the three kingdoms as by a comp.ete
system of positive features, may serve as a representative of a series of other ob-
jects of like character.

e. Knowledge of the elements as far as it can be acquired by observation, with-
out the aid of physical and chemical apparatus.

f. Geography.

f. Technology and notices of the principal inventions.
. History, 1st degree.

7. Application of arithmetic to bulk : to duration, to weight, and to the con-
ventional value of objects.

D. Fourth age ; from fifteen to eighteen or twenty.

Language. Continuation of language. Rules for the construction of lan-
guage. Logic. N

Compositions on given subjects. Rhetoric. Continuation of singing exer-
cises. Arithmetic, mental and written ; evolution of powers ; extraction of roots.
Algebra, geometry, trigonometry and conic sections.

Drawing. Continuation of perspective, shades,, and drawing from nature.

Application of language to the acquirement of knowledge.

Continuation of the study of the intellectual and moral man.

Relations of the physical, intellectual and moral man to other beings.

Continuation of the study of the three kingdoms of nature.

Elementary course of physic and chemistry.

Geography, mathematics and history.

History, 2d degree.

Application of arithmetic and geometry united, to agriculture, drafting, etc.
Observations on the study of foreign languages.

In each stage of development it is important that the mother tongue should
always keep a little before all foreign languages, that the child should learn noth-
ing in these he does not already know in that, so as to leave no deficiency in the
mother tongue. If any study were pursued by the child in a foreign language
only, such language would in this department take the lead ; the child would find

KRtJSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION. ?5S

it difficult to express himself in his own tongue on subjects learned by means of
a strange one. On the contrary, the study of all foreign languages should serve
to make the mother tongue better known.

In a seminary where different pupils speak different languages, these must go
hand in hand, and every branch of instruction must be cultivated in them both.

Hence results this advantage, that the pupil learns by intuition the meaning
of the words of the language which is foreign to him, that is to say he every in-
stant sees this meaning, and does not learn it solely from translation and memory.
This mode of employing two languages singularly facilitates the communication
of ideas in them both. It also gives the advantage of comparing them, and
thereby teaches their actual relations and difference both as to ground and form.
A knowledge of the genius, the peculiarities and the shades of meaning of each
are the fruits of this comparison.

Dead languages are more foreign to the mind of a child, and more difficult for
him. The study of them should be based upon a sufficient development of the
living languages, and above all of the native language ; without which they re-
main dead in the mind, without real fruit. This study should not therefore be-
gin before the third period $ and should not occupy all the pupils, but only those
destined to walk in the paths of science. Those otherwise to be disposed of, may
employ their time and their endeavors to much greater advantage.

III. RELIGION. THE SOUL AND THE FINAL END OF ALL EDUCATION.

Third means for the cultivation of man.

As the body is vivified by the soul, so domestic, social and intellectual life are
animated and ennobled by religion. Without it the activity of man in each of
these three spheres, has only a terrestrial object and falls short of its true dignity
and destiny.

Thus the relations of father and mother are ennobled and sanctified when the
father and the mother consider themselves, in respect to their children, as the
representatives of God, the common father of all.

The state of the child is ennobled and sanctified, when we not only feel our-
selves children of mortal parents, but at the same time children of God, destined
to rise to perfection even as our heavenly father is perfect.

The state of brothers and sisters is also ennobled and sanctified when we re-
cognise all mankind as brothers and sisters and members of one same family.

The endeavors we make to develop our intellectual faculties and to gain a
knowledge of truth, are sanctified when we acknowledge God as the fountain of
all wisdom and the eternal source of all virtue and goodness. All earthly life is
sanctified when made a preparation for one heavenly and immortal.

The specific means which education may adopt to promote in the child a reli-
gious life are :

1. Pious exercises, the principal of which is prayer.

2. Religious conversations, in which we take advantage of the circumstances
and events of life to raise the soul of the child from what is earthly and fugitive,
to what is heavenly and everlasting.

3. The study of sacred history and important passages of Holy Writ, chosen
with care, according to the degree of development the child may have attained,
and which, committed to memory, are germs which religious instruction and the
events of life will hereafter develop.

4. Religious instruction properly so called ; or the regular explanation of the
doctrine of our Saviour. This instruction should only take place in the 4th period
of development-, and the chief aim of every preceding period should be to pre-
pare for it. It should close the child's career and become his support in the hour
of trial, his guide to direct his steps to the highest point of perfection of which his
nature is susceptible

All education should proceed from man and lead to God. Man should en-
deavor to live in God and for God, and to devote to HIM all his terrestrial and
intellectual existence. To this, domestic and social life, exterior nature, and all
the circumstances through which he passes here below, should conduct him*
But it is only through the influence of God, that all these can produce this effect;
the sublime truths of the gospel can alone K-ad us into that way which leads to
that heavenly life which is our truj destination.

358 KRIISI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION.

PROSPECTUS OF AN ESTABLISHMENT FOR THE EDUCATION OF BOYS.

From the earliest age at which they can receive regular instruction, to that in which the$
should enter into a scientific pursuit, a profession, or business.

This establishment was commenced three years ago. While I was yet with Mr.
Pestalozzi, working with him in his undertaking and teaching in his institution, two
pupils were unexpectedly committed to my particular care and direction. These were
shortly followed by a third, their relation. From that time a combination of circum-
stances independent of my will induced me to leave the institution 1 had assisted to
form and direct during sixteen years. I should above all things have preferred, aftei
this separation, to have labored to form teachers for the people, taking poor children
equal to the office. Seeing the accomplishment of this desire beyond my reach, 1 ap-
plied myself to measures more within my ability, and such as appeared appointed by
Providence. I extended my sphere of activity, receiving such new pupils as were
intrusted to my care unsought by me.

This train of circumstances on the one hand, and on the other my desire to remain
attached to Messrs. Niederer and Naef, (during many years my friends and companions
in labor,) and with them to devote my life to education, induced me again to choose
Yverdun for the place of my intended labor, and for the gradual growth of my rising
institution.

Our union enables us to find means and men competent in every respect to insure
the prosperity of our three institutions, (that of Mr. Naef for the deaf and dumb, that
of Mr. Niederer for youth of either sex, and mine.) Mr. Nabholz, whose sentiments
and purposes resemble our own, will enter my institution as assistant. Mr. Steiner,
a pupil of Pestalozzi, will teach mathematics, in which his talents and success afford
the brightest hopes. Keeping up friendly intercourse with Mr. Brousson, principal of
the College of Yverdun and with other respectable men, I receive from tnem, in the
different branches of instruction, assistance of importance to me, and on the continu-
ance of which I can depend. In my former situation the frequent changes which oc-
curred among my companions in labor often pained me on account of its influence
on the success of that undertaking to which 1 devoted my life.

To avoid a like inconvenience, which must inevitably produce every kind of discord,
and expose an institution subject to it, to great dangers, we shall choose our assistants
and fellow-laborers with the greatest circumspection.

The views which serve as the foundation of my enterprise are the same with those
I have helped to develop under the paternal direction of Pestalozzi. All that I have
found in many years' observation, both by my own experience and that with my pupils,
to be true and conducive to the entire culture of man, I shall strive by unremitting efforts
to develop more and more in myself and to apply in a natural manner for the advantage
of my pupils.*

My first object is, to establish in my institution a true domestic life ; that all the pu-
pils may be considered as members of one family, and that thus all those sentiments
and all those virtues which are necessary to a happy existence, and which render the
connections of life pure and sweet, may be developed. s

Without this foundation, I believe that the blessing of God is wanting on every
means of education whatever.

The extent of knowledge and executive ability which the pupils will acquire is in
part the same for all, and in part influenced by individual dispositions and destinations.
It is the same for all inasmuch as it embraces the development of the faculties and
powers most essential to human nature. Thus far, the method has acquired an inva-
riable basis, inasmuch as it has established language, number and form, as produc-
tions of the human mind and as the universal means by which the mind should be
developed.

The acquisition of knowledge and executive skill as a result of this development are
secured either by means of exercises in language, number and form, or connect them-
selves with these in a very simple manner. Thus, with the study of numbers is con-
nected mercantile and scientific calculation. The study of form and size leads to the
art of drawing and writing. The exercises in the mother tongue as a means of de-
veloping the mind of the child, conduct to the study of foreign languages and to the
knowledge of objects, which the tongue serves to 'seize and to define. Music as a
combined production of two elements is allied to language by tone, and to number by
measure.

In the circle of human knowledge, man as a compound being is the center <><" «
double world : of an exterior and physical world to which the three kingdoms of nacir*

" I have endeavored in the Coup d'oeil which precedes this announcement, to state the
means of education such as I conceive them to be. This exposition will be the model and
the basis of my work. It is evident that these views and tlicse means can not all be devel-
oped by a single man or a single institution. It is a task in which all the friends of education
must cooperate.

KRUSI, VIEWS AND PLAN OF EDUCATION. 359

oelong, and alsc the earth which contains them and all exterior nature ; and of an interior
world, intellectual and moral, which, proceeding from the faculties and the powers 01
our nature, contains all the whole sphere of the connections of man, and of his du-
ties toward himself, toward his fellow creatures, and toward God. The child should
be as familiar with this interior world as with the exterior and physical world.

Intellectual cultivation should be accompanied by cultivation of the heart. The
physical powers should also be developed, in order that the body may be able to per-
form what the mind has conceived and the will has resolved. Bodily exercise in this
respect possesses an essential and incontestible value. The mind and the heart stand
in need of the body in all the actions of life. The operations of the soul are hamp-
ered in proportion as the body is neglected, or unequal to execute its orders.

In regard to the admission and residence of pupils in my school, I desire 'parents
who propose to intrust their children to my care, to fully weigh the following consid-
erations.

The two most decisive epochs in education are that of early infancy under the
mother's care, and that where the youth enters into manhood. If these two periods are
successfully passed, it may be considered that the education has succeeded. If either
has been neglected or ill-directed, the man feels it during his whole life. The a.ge of
boyhood being the intermediate perio:! between early infancy and youth, is of unmis-
takable importance, as the development of the first period, and the germ, of the third ; but
in no case does this age influence either decisively, by repairing previous defects or neg-
lects, or bi/ in-taring what shallfollow. In the first age the child belongs by preference
to its mother, to be taken care of by her; in the second age it belongs by preference to
its father, to be directed by him. As a young man, a new existence opens to him, he
ceases to be the child of his parents ; and becomes their friend. The son, at maturity,
becomes the tender, intimate and faithful friend of his parents, as he was, in his mi-
nority, their amiable, docile, and faithful child.

With regard to exterior life, the child must sooner or later become an orphan, and
when this misfortune befalls him in his minority, society provides that a guardian shall "
supply the place of parents until he comes of age. For the interior life, no one can sup-
ply this place for him. Nothing but intellectual and moral strength in the child himself,
and strengthened by that wisdom and that love which proceed from God, can bring us
near to HIM and supply the place of the wisdom and the love of our father and mother.
When the young man has attained this point, it is only as a friend that he remains the
child of his parents. If he is not brought up in these noble dispositions, an unhappy
consequence follows; the lx>nds of nature are broken on his coming of age. because
these bonds were only of force with respect to physical life ; and the child, who, in this
first friendship — in this friendship whose objects are nearest to him — has not supported the
trial of fidelity, will never bear the test for any being upon earth.

Therefore it is that this period in education is so important, so decisive, and so ex-
acting more than any other. On the one hand it requires the purity and tender affec-
tion of domestic life, and on the other side, solid and wholesome food for the mind.

In this exigency a means presents itself which ought to be the keystone in the edu-
cation of the child, the resting place for the passage from minority to majority, the
foundation of a new life ; a means raised above every other, namely, Religion — the
revelation of all that is divine in man manifested by Jesus Christ. The young man,
who in body, as a mortal, ceases to be a child, should become a new child in soul,
and as an immortal being. After entering this new state, he ought in general to cease
to be the pupil of men, to raise himself above their direction, and to become the pupil
of himself, that is to say, of that wisdom and that love which comes to us from God and
raises us to him.

So long as a man has not attained this point, his education is incomplete. The aim
of education is to enable him to reach it.

To strive incessantly toward this object, is the task of the institution here announced

YVKRDUN, Pestalozzi's birthday, 1818.

This facsimile of
a page from one of
Pestalozzi's manu-
scripts, shows the
curiously compos-
ite character of the
books issued as his.
The matter at the
top is in P.esta-
lozzi's handwrit-
ing, and seems by
no means so illeg-
ible as represented.
The addition be-
low is by Ram-
sauer (p. 305), who
has been so of-
ten charged with
"editing " Pesta-
lozzi's writings till
they became his
own. The writing
on the side is
probablyNiederer's
( p. 293), while the
note crossed out
seems to be by
Tobler(p.361). We
regret that it is
impossible here to
show the difference
in the ink, four
different kinds of
which are plainly
used at as many
different dates.
The original was
lent us by Her-
mann Krtisi. the
son of Prof. Krusi
(p. 323), who was
born at Yverdun,
and was christened
by Pestalozzi. He
was well known as
a teacher in t h e
Oswego Normal.

JOHN GEORGE TOBLEK.

JOHN GEORGE TOBLER, an educator of the Pestalozzian school,,
was born at Trogen, in the canton of Appenzell-Ausserrhoden, in
Switzerland, October 17, 1769. He lost his mother in his third year,
and his father in his tenth. His education was very inadequate, as
was usual in those times. His disposition inclined him to become a
preacher. Want of means, however, prevented him until his twenty-
third year, when with a very insufficient preparation he entered the
University of Basle. With all the other qualifications for becoming
a valuable preacher and catechist, his memory for words failed him in
respect to the acquisition of foreign languages. This defect decided
him entirely to give up entering for the examination as candidate.
He was to find a greater sphere of usefulness in another career. He
exchanged his theological studies for the practical employment of a
tutor and teacher.

In 1799. he placed himself at the head of a school for the female
children of emigrants at Basle. An invitation from Pestalozzi brought
him to Burgdorf in May, 1800. He there became the friend of
Buss and Krlisi, and married, and after a short disagreement with
Pestalozzi, labored with him for seven years at Munchen Buchsee and
Yverdun. Circumstances brought him to Miihlhausen, where, besides
other exertions, he founded his labor-school, which quickly increased
so as to contain from four to six hundred scholars, but which came to
an end in 181 1, in the midst of a prosperous career. Tobler returned to
Basle, and set about collecting his pedagogical views and experiences,
and preparing for the press a geography upon Pestalozzi's principles.

His pecuniary needs, however, obliging him to seek another situa-
tion, he obtained a place as teacher in a private institution in Glarus.
On New Year's day of 1817, together with his fellow-teachers, he
was dismissed, by reason of the famine. He immediately turned to-
his profession of tutor, and held a situation for three entire years, in
an eminent family of the neighborhood. The children being after-
ward sent to a newly erected cantonal school, he went to Arbon .on
the Lake of Constance, with the design of erecting there, instead of
a school, a superior orphan-house ; but the place was too small. A.
year afterward he went to St. Gall. Here, the real star of his peda

362 JOHN GEORGE TOBLER.

gogical career shone out upon him. That place J-->.-r\vs -latitude
for having afforded him ten years together, of free and unimpeded
room for the display of his talents as teacher and educator. One of
the noblest fruits of this time, was the education of a son to follow
his father's honorable example. In 1831, this son was able to
graduate from school, and in 1836, lie left St. Gall, and accompanied
Niederer to Yverdun. and then to Geneva, at both of which places he
was at the head of institutions of his own ; and was also of very
great service to Niederer's school for girls. At present he tills the
place of director of a cantonal school at Trogen.

Tobler passed his latter years at Basle, in part with his second son,
the principal of a boys1 school at Nyon ; where he died in his seventy-
fourth year, after a short sickness, Aug. 10, 1843. The last months
of his life were rendered happy by an elevated self-consciousness, by
the pleasant prospect of ending his days at his native place, as he
desired, and by incessant and active occupation in setting in order his
writings and his domestic affairs. His inner life was as happy and
elevated above earthly things as the evening sun, amidst the eternal
blue of heaven.

After this short sketch of Tobler's life, varied and struggling as it
was, although not fateful, we may devote a few words to his intellectual
peculiarities, his rank as a teacher, and his services to humanity and
human culture.

His moral and religious nature was his predominating trait; the
key-tone of his mind. His father, who filled the place of both father
and mother to his sensitive nature, inspired these sentiments into him
while yet a child. The maxim "Seek first the kingdom of God (oj
what was with him its equivalent, the sphere of attainments accord-
ing to Christ) and its righteousness, and all other things shall be
added unto you," was his rule of life; and in his teaching and his
example, afforded him constant assistance in answering such questions
as arose during his labors for moral improvement.

As soon as he could write, he commenced the practice of taking
down sermons and catechizings; and thus acquired great facility in
his German style, and a mastery of analytic methods which afterward
stood him in good stead by enabling him to deliver extemporaneous
sermons and addresses to children, and to compose excellent sketches
•of sermons. His popular and instructive style occasioned various
congregations, after hearing him, to desire him for a pastor. His
morning and evening prayers with pupils and children were exceedingly
simple, pathetic, clear, and impressive. In moments of higher excite-
ment, the very spirit of the Apostle John's epistles spoke through

JOHN GEORGE TOBLER. 363

His religious instruction and other Sabbath exercises exerted a
profound influence upon the neglected children of the manufacturing
school at Miihlhausen.

While a student at Basle, Tobler exercised a predominating influ-
ence over numbers of his fellow students, in inciting them to industry,
and inspiring them with the idea of the honorableness of their future
calling. He was one of the founders there of a society for intel-
lectual improvement; an enterprise which later events rendered pro-
phetical. A very remarkable difference was to be observed between
the after lives of those who were his friends, and others.

While he was teacher and director of the female school at Basle,
he followed in general the doctrines of Basedow, Campe, and Salzmann.
His method of teaching was substantially that which has since been
•named the Socratic. By strictly adhering to this method he endeavored
to call into life and to develop the minds and hearts of his scholars,
not however in the ancient Greek spirit, but in that of Christ ; and
thus he proceeded until the man appeared upon the stage, who gave
an entirely new meaning to the word Education, who completely ap-
prehended the entire subjects of education and instruction, who estab-
lished them as an independent art and science, and made an epoch in
their history. To Pestalozzi Tobler adhered, and was afterward his
steady disciple.

Tobler fully comprehended Pestalozzi's idea and method, in their
.general collective significance for humanity and education. Their
individual principle separately was more difficult of comprehension to
him. He understood it to be Spontaneous Activity. This, however,
he considered only as a receiving and working faculty, to be developed
by perception and drilling (i. e. Receptivity and Spontaneity ; Nature
and Capacity ; Faculties ;) and in this opinion he was quite correct,
as well as in regard to the relation of these faculties to the three sub-
jects of instruction, nature, man, and God. But Pestalozzi had deter-
mined a third sub-division of this Spontaneous Activity, before un-
recognized, and had distinguished within it the elements pertaining
to the intellect and to the feelings, viz., that of the productive spon-
taneous activity of the moral and intellectual powers, (the talents ?)
In this consists the peculiarity and importance of Pestalozzi's dis-
coveries in method, and of the discoveries and the revolution thus
originated. It is by operating according to this distinction that the
progress of the development and general training of human nature is
assured, and the real intellectual and moral emancipation of the
schools substantially established.

During the first period of Pestalozzi's institution, Tobler took part

364 JOHN GEORGE TOBLER.

with all in everything as a beloved teacher and pupil. In a genera!
activity of this kind consisted what might be called Festalozzi's.
jubilee. Then, all the teachers were pupils, and all the pupils teach
ers ; so far as they brought forward independent matter of their own,,
and furnished results of their own inner activity. After a time, how-
ever, the necessity of the separation and ordering of different depart-
ments of instruction and drilling, rendered it necessary for Tobler to-
select some special department of labor ; and he selected the real
branches ; and among them, that of elementary geography. He estab-
lished the principles of this study by reference to the actual surface
of earth, and to the pupil's own sphere of vision, with a success
which entitles him to the name of the father of the new method in.
geography. Hitter, who knew his labors, and proceeded onward
from their termination, passed beyond the sphere of education, by a
giant stride forward in his science.

Tobler's personal relations with Pestalozzi were neither fortunate
nor enduring. Pestalozzi had not the faculty of determining the
proper place for each of his assistants, and of laying out for each of
them his appointed work. He was neither an organizer nor adminis-
trator ; and he regarded Tobler's wishes in this respect as mere as-
sumption and weakness. Tobler could not bring out the real value
of his views, without their complete display in actual operation.
Whoever could at once put a matter into a distinctly practical form
could in Pestalozzi's eyes do everything ; and whoever fell at all short
of this, nothing. Tobler, therefore, wholly absorbed in the business
of elementarizing, did nothing to please or satisfy Pestalozzi. The
elementarizing of instruction, and of the so-called "real branches,"
required too much at once ; namely, the investigation and harmonious
arrangement of the elements and laws of two spheres, viz., that of
children's powers, and that of the proposed subject-matter of them.
Pestalozzi required from Tobler, simple, rapid and immediate results
from this investigation, even when the indispensable materials for
them were wanting. Both Tobler and Pestalozzi, moreover, were in
the habit of very plain speaking; and as husband and father, Tobler
could not devote his entire life to Pestaloza.

This false position of Tobler's gradually became that of the teach-
ers and pupils of the institution. And Pestalozzi's disposition andj
opinions passed more and more under the influence of a single one
of the assistant teachers (Schmid.)

At Miinchen Buchsee, Tobler was a promoter of the separation be-
tween Pestalozzi and von Fellenberg. Cooperation with the latter,,
was possible only on condition of complete submission to his authority;.

JOHN GEORGE TOBLER. 365

a claim which von Fellenberg made on the ground of his social posi-
tion. But tli 3 views of the two men were too radically differ, nt; of
!the world, .of men, and of pedagogy. It is true that pedagogical ly,
von Fellenberg proceeded on Pestalozzi's principles; but it was upon
those principles as he entertained them when he wrote Leonard and
Oertrude; when he considered the common school as a valuable in-
strumentality for the training by society of its needed members; i.e.,
for education to agriculture, manufacturing, and trades. This view
was in harmony with the caste-spirit of society; "The individual was
not considered as a moral person, and society subordinated to him as
to a superior being, but he was placed quite below it." Pestalozzi had,
while at Stanz and Burgdorf, risen very far above this view. He had
turned about, let go his consideration of mere purposes, and had laid
hold upon the principle of personal exterior independence; not merely
as a negative, but as a positive fact. This starting point von Fellen-
berg did not recognize; and Tobler, therefore, could not agree with
him. The true reason why no union between von Fellenberg and
Pestalozzi and the Pestalozzians never took place is, therefore, not to be
sought amongst any accidental circumstances, but in their radical op-
position of views.

In Miihlhausen, and afterward in Glarus, Tobler established new
schools. His want of adaptedness to the demands of the times upon
the teacher and educator here came sharply out. He experienced, by
the severe lesson of falling into poverty and want, the truth, that no
one, even if possessed of a lofty new truth, strong by nature, and
really deserving of confidence and support, can unpunished oppose
himself to the tendencies of the age. Every new truth has its martyrs ;
and a pedagogical truth as well as others.

His real excellence, and his maturest, he showed at St. Gall, while
director and center of his school there, as educator and instructor of
his pupils, as guide to his assistants, and as unwearied and unsatisfied
investigator after new applications of the Pestalozzian method to
language, geography and Natural History. He invented a useful
alphabetical and reading machine, arranged a simplified mode of Vnap-
drawing, and a good though unfinished course of instruction in Na-
tural History. Having continual reference to the common schools, he
paid much attention to the subject of obtaining cheap materials for
instruction, and took great interest in the training of teachers, for
which also he accomplished considerable good.

An idea which never left him after his connection with Pestalozzi,
was the training of mothers as teachers ; and the establishment of
the belief of the destiny and fitness of the female sex for this high

366 JOHN GEORGE TOBLER.

calling. Even in his latter years he was still enthusiastic upon this-
subject, and Niederer's female school at Geneva, owes to him much
that is valuable.

The following account of Tobler's educational experiments and
failures, is given in his own words, in Pestalozzi's "Eliza and
Christopher."

" After having been, for six years, practically engaged in education, I found the
result of my labors by no means answering my expectations. The energy of the
children, their internal powers, did not increase according to the measure of my
exertions, nor even in proportion to the extent of positive information which they
had acquired : nor did the knowledge which I imparted to them appear to me to
have a sufficiently strong hold upon their minds, or to be so well connected in its
various parts, as J felt it ought to be.

I made use of the best juvenile works that were to be had at that time. But
these books contained words, of which the greater part were unintelligible to
children, and ideas far beyond the sphere of their own experience ; and conse-
quently formed, altogether, so strong a contrast with the mode of thinking, feel-
ing, and speaking, natural to their age, that it took endless time and trouble to ex-
plain all that they could not understand. But this process of explaining was in
itself a tedious job, and, after all, it did no more toward advancing their true in-
ternal development, than is done toward dispelling darkness by introducing a few
detached rays of light in a dark room, or in the obscurity of a dense, impenetrable
mist. The reason of this was, that these books descended to the profoundest
depths of human knowledge, or ascended above the clouds, nay, and to the upper-
most heavens of eternal glory, before an opportunity was offered to the children
of resting their feet on the solid ground of mother earth ; on which, neverthelessv
it is absolutely necessary that men should be allowed to stand, if they are to learn
walking before flying-, and for the latter, moreover, if it is to be flying indeed,
their wings must have time to grow.

An obscure foreboding of those truths in my mind, induced me, at an early
period, to try to entertain my younger pupils with matters of immediate perception,
and to clear up the ideas of the elder ones by Socratic conversations. The result'
of the former plan was, that the little ones acquired a variety of knowledge not
generally to be met with at that age. I endeavored to combine this mode of in-
struction with the methods I found in the most approved works ; but whichever
of those books I took in hand, they were all written in such a manner as to pre-
suppose the very thing which the children were in a great measure to acquire by
them, viz., the knowledge of language. The consequence was, that my Socratio
conversations with the elder pupils led to no better result than all other explana-
tions of words by words, to which no real knowledge corresponds in the children's
minds, and of which they have, consequently, no clear notion, as regards either
each of them taken separately, or the connection in which they are placed together.
This was the case with my pupils, and, therefore, the explanation which they
seemed to understand to-day, would a few days after be completely vanished from
their minds, in a manner to me incomprehensible ; and the more pains I took to
make everything plain to them, the less did they evince energy or desire to rescue
things from that obscurity and confusion in which they naturally appear.

"With such experience daily before me, I felt myself invincibly impeded in my
progress to the end which I had proposed to myself. I began to converse on the
subject with as many schoolmasters, and others engaged or interested in education,
as were accessible to me, in whatever direction : but I found, that although their
libraries were well furnished with works on education, of which our age has been
so productive, yet they saw themselves placed in the same difficulty with myself,
and were no more successful with their pupils than I was with mine. Seeing
this, I felt with what an increased weight these difficulties must oppress the mas-
ters of public schools, unless, indeed, they were rendered too callous for such a
feeling by a professional spirit. I had a strong, but, unfortunately, not a clear im-
pression of the defects of education in all its departments, and I exerted myself to
the utmost to find a remedy. I made a determination to collect, partly from my

JOHN GEORGE TOBLER. 36T

own experience, and partly from works on the subject, all the means, methods,,
and contrivances, by which it seemed to me possible that the difficulties under
which I labored, might be removed at every stage of instruction. But I soon
found that my life would not suffice for that purpose. Meanwhile I had already
completed whole volumes of scraps and extracts, when Fischer, in several of his
letters, drew my attention to the method of Pestalozzi. I soon began to suspect
that he was about to reach the end I was aiming at, without my circuitous means ;
and that most of my difficulties arose out of the very nature of the plan which I
followed, and which was far too scientific and systematic. I then began to see,
that in the same manner the artificial methods, invented in our age, were the very
sources of all the defects of modern education. On the contrary, I saw Pestalozzi
equally free from my peculiar difficulties, and from the general failings, and I ac-
counted for this by the fact, that he rejected all our ingenious contrivances, all our
well-framed systems. Some of the means employed by him, that for instance of
making children draw on slates, seemed to me so simple, that my only puzzle was,
how I could have gone on so long without hitting upon them. I was struck with
the idea that all his discoveries, seemed to be of the kind which might be termed
" obvious ," they were none of them far-fetched. But what most attached me to
his method, was his principle of re-educating mothers for that for which they are
originally destined by nature, for this principle I had long cherished and kept in
view, in the course of my experiments.

I was confirmed in these views by Kriisi, who, at his visit in Basle, gave, in the
girls' school, practical specimens of Pestalozzi's mode of teaching spelling, read-
ing, and arithmetic. Pastor Faesch, and Mr. De Brunn, who had in part organiz-
ed the instruction and management of that institution, according to the loose hints
which had as yet reached us on the Pestalozzian method, perceived immediately
what a powerful impression was produced upon the children by their spelling and
reading together in a stated measure of time. Kriisi had also brought with him
some school materials for the instruction in writing and arithmetic, and some
leaves of a vocabulary, which Pestalozzi intended to draw up as a first reading-
book for children ; which enabled us to see the bearing which Pestalozzi's method
had upon the development of the different faculties of human nature. All this
contributed to mature in me, very rapidly, the determination to join Pestalozzi,
according to his wish.

I went to Burgdorf, and the first impression of the experiment, in the state in
which it then was, fully answered my expectations. I was astonished to see what
a striking degree of energy the children generally evinced, and how simple, and
yet manifold, were the means of development by which that energy was elicited.
Pestalozzi took no notice whatever of all the existing systems and methods ; the
ideas which he presented to the minds of his pupils were all extremely simple ;
his means of instruction were distinctly subdivided, each part being calculated for
a precise period in the progress of development ; whatever was complicated and
confused, he rejected ; by a few words he conveyed much, and with little apparent
exertion produced a powerful effect ; he kept always close to the point then under
consideration ; some of his branches of instruction seemed like a new creation,
raised from the elements of art and nature : all this I saw, and my attention was
excited to the highest degree.

There were some parts of his experiment, it is true, which seemed to me rather
unnatural ; of this description was, for instance, the repetition of difficult and corn-
plicated sentences, which could not, at first, but make a very confused impression
upon his pupils. But I saw, on the other hand, what a power he had of leading
children into clear ideas ; yet I mentioned my doubts to him. His answer was,
that nature herself presented all sorts of perceptions to our senses in confusion and
obscurity, and that she brings them to clearness afterward. To this argument I
had nothing to reply,* especially as I saw that he attached no value to the details

*The obvious reply was, that the perceptions which nature presents, however confused,
or otherwise obscure, they may be, are realities, and therefore contain in themselves the very
elements of clearness, and at the same time, a strong inducement to search for those elements.
But confused impressions made upon us by words, are not realities, but mere shadows ; they
have in themselves the elements of confusion, and they offer neither an inducement, nor th»*
means, for clearing them up. The former call out the mind, the latter cramp it. The very
power which Pestalozzi possessed over his pupils, what was it owing to, according to the
statements both of himself and his friends, but to his making a rule of supplying the child with
a clear and distinct notion of the reality, before he gave him the sign or shadow, the name 1

368 JOHN GEORGE TOBLER.

cf his experiment, but tried many of them with a view to throw them aside again,
«s soon as they should have answered thc-ir temporary purpose. With many oc
them he had no other object than to increase the internal power of the children,
and to obtain for himself further information concerning the fundamental princi-
ples on which all his proceedings rested. I resolved, therefore, not to mind the
apparent inadequacy of some of his means, so much the more as I had come to the
conviction, that the further pursuit of the experiment necessarily involved the im-
provement of the details of the method. This was perfectly evident already in
arithmetic, in drawing, and in the rudiments of language.

I perceived, likewise, that by the connection which his different means of in-
struction had with each other, every one of them, individually, was instrumental
in promoting the success of all the others, and, especially, in developing and
strengthening the faculties generally. Long before he began to lay down his
principles in stated terms, I saw, in the daily observation of their practical effect,
the approaching maturity of the whole undertaking, and, as an infallible conse-
quence of it, the gradual attainment of the object he had in view. In trying the
details of his method, he never leaves any single exercise until he has so far in-
vestigated and simplified it, that it seems physically impossible to advance any
further. Seeing the indefatigable zeal with which he did this, I was more and
more confirmed in a sentiment, of which I had before had some indistinct notion,
that all the attempts at fostering the development of human nature, by means of
a complicated and artificial language, must necessarily end in a failure ; but that,
on the contrary, a method intended to assist nature in the course of human develop-
ment, must be characterised by the utmost simplicity in 'oil the means of instruc-
tion, and more especially in language, which should be a faithful expression of the
simplicity of both the child's own mind, and the objects and ideas which are em-
ployed for its cultivation. I now began to understand, by degrees, what he meant
by introducing a variety of distinctions in the instruction of language ; by aiming,
in his arithmetical instruction, at nothing else but producing in the<:hild's mind a
clear and indelible conviction that all arithmetic was nothing else but an abridgment
of tlu- simple process of enumeration, and the numbers themselves nothing but
an abridgment of the wearisome repetition, one, and one, and one, and one ; and,
lastly, by declaring an early development of the faculty of drawing lines, angles,
curves, and figures, to be the groundwork of art, and even of the capacity, which
so few men possess, of taking a distinct view of visible objects.

I could not but feel every day more confirmed in the notions which I had formed
of the manifold advantages of his method, by being a constant witness of the ef-
fects produced by general development of the mental faculties in the arts of
measuring, calculating, writing, and drawing. I grew more and more convinced
that it was possible to accomplish what I have before stated to have been the lead-
ing object of my own pursuits at a previous period, viz., to re-educate mothers
for the fulfillment of that sacred task assigned to them by nature, the result of
which would be, that even the first instruction imparted in schools, would have
previous maternal tuition for a foundation to rest on. I saw a practical method
discovered, which, admitting of universal application, would enable parents, who
have the welfare of their offspring at heart, to become themselves the teachers of
their little ones. From that moment, popular improvement ceased to be depend-
ent on the circuitous plan of training teachers in expensive seminaries, and with
the aid of extensive libraries.

In short, the result of the first impression produced upon my mind by the whole
of Pestalozzi's experiment, and of the observations I have since been able to make
on the details of his method, has been, to re-establish in my heart that faith which
I held so dear at the onset of my career, but which I had almost lost under the
pressure of systems sanctioned by the fashion of the day, faith in the practicability
of popular improvement."

In the progress of his narrative he declares himself, that it was one of the characteristic fea-
tures of his method of teaching language, (hat he reduced it to the utmost simplicity, " by ex
eluding from it every combination of words which presupposes a knowledge of language."
He was not, however, at all times, equally clear on this point, although it lies at the very
foundation of all his improvements in elementary instruction.

KARL CHRISTIAN WILHELM YON TURK

KARL CHRISTIAN WILHELM VON TURK, was born at Meiningen,
January 8, 1774. He was the youngest son of Chamber-president
and High Marshal von Turk, who was of a noble Courland family,
and in the service of the duke of Saxe-Meiningen. At his mother's
death, when a boy of six years old, he was transferred to the family
of his mother's brother, Grand Huntsman von Bibra, at Hildburg-
hausen, where he was brought up with his cousins under a strict tutor.
At seventeen and a quarter years old, without having attended any
public school, he entered the University of Jena, where he found in
his elder brother Ludwig, who had already been studying there a year
And a half, a true friend and a pattern of industry and good conduct ;
and where he contracted a close friendship with several cotemporaries,
amongst whom were T. von Hardenberg, known as a poet under the
name of Novalis, and von Bassewitz, afterward Chief President and
hi* own official superior.

After completing his legal studies, in 1793, he offered himself for
an office under government in Meiningen, which had been promised
him while his father was Chamber-president and his brother a govern-
ment official, notwithstanding the strictness of the examination. What,
however, his knowledge and capacity did not enable him to attain, he
secured by means of a very ordinary social talent. During a visit in
Hilillmrghausen, the Prince, then Duke Karl of Mecklenburg, father of
Queen Louise of Prussia, found that he was a skillful ombre-player ; and
he took so strong a liking to him that afterward, upon receiving the
principality by the unexpected death of his brother, he determined to
fix him within his dominions. Accordingly, in the very next year,
1794, he appointed von Turk chancery auditor, and two years later,
Chamberlain and chancery councilor. In 1800, his official senior von
Kamptz, afterward well known as Prussian minister, was appointed to
a public station in Mecklenburg, and von Turk was appointed in his
stead to take the oversight of the school system, with his judicial
employments. The inquiries which his new place suggested to him
drew his attention in such directions that he became gradually estranged
from the occupations to which he had been earlier devoted.

In 1804. von Turk took a furlough for six months, visited various

370 VON TURK.

, and made the acquaintance especially, of Olivier, Tillich and
I'ohhnann, then distinguished teachers of the day. In the same
\.-ur, ho remained during som«- months, at Pestalozzi's institution at
Miinchen-Buchsee, and made himself acquainted with his views, and
with J. Schmid's system for geometry and mathematics He pub-
lished the results of his stay with Pestalozzi, in his " Letters from
Munchen-Buchsee" (Leipzig, 1808); one of the most practical and,
useful accounts of Pestalozzi's method.

After his return to Mecklenburg, he could not resist his impulse tx>
become a teacher. He gathered together a troop of boys, instructed
them two hours daily and made teachers acquainted with Pestalozzi's
method. During his educational journeys he had become acquainted
with the prince of Oldenburg, and at the end of 1805. he was ap-
pointed to a lucrative office as Justice and Consistory Councilor ia
Oldenburg, with an annual salary of fourteen^hundred thalers, (about
$1050.)

In his new place he experienced the same impulse to exertion as a
teacher and educator. Here also he gathered a troop of boys whom
he instructed two hours a day ; and he received into his house a
number of young people, and gave them a complete education.
These operations however did not meet the approval of tli<- <lukc,
who intimated a wish that he should devote himself wholly to the
duties of his judicial station, and refused his request to be employed
wholly in educational matters. This, together with the condition of
Oldenburg (then threatened by the French,) which caused him much
pecuniary difficulty, decided him to resign his place in Oldenburg and
to give himself up entirely to the business of education.

In 1808, with some pupils, sons of a Bremen merchant, he went to
Pestalozzi at Yverdun, and for some time instructed in that institution.
His work, " Perception by the Senses," (Die Sinnlichen Wahrnehmun-
gen,) is a fruit of his labors at that time in Pestalozzi's institution.
But the situation of affairs there was unfavorable, and an increasing
difference soon grew up between him and Pestalozzi. This decided
von Turk to leave him and to establish an educational institution of his
own at the castle of Vevay on the lake of Geneva. Here he lived
amongst a small circle of children, but happily progressing in knowl-
edge under his love and zeal. The financial results did not, however,
answer his expectations, and he finally in 1814 transferred the care
of the school to Latour de Peilz, at his castle not far from Vevay.
Having offered his services to the Prussian monarchy, he was in 1815-
appointed royal and school councilor at Frankfort on the Oder.

The course of inntrnction which he u'av<- here in September of 1816-

VON TURK. 371

upon Pestaloz/i's method, to nearly sixty clergymen and teachers, had
upon many, who perhaps, then heard of Pestalozzi for the first timer
an influence which did not remain fruitless. His efforts to improve
the instruction in arithmetic, resulted in his publication of his " Guide
to Instruction in Arithmetic" which is yet one of the best books of
its class. Its fifth edition appeared in 1830. After Natorp's return
to his native country in 1817, von Turk was appointed School Coun-
cilor in Potsdam, in which station he labored actively for sixteen
years, but resigned it in 1833 to devote his whole time and powers to
the benevolent institutions which he had founded.

These are (not including the Swimming Institution at Potsdam and
the Association for the improvement of silk-raising,) the following :

1. The Fund for School Teachers' Widows, a. at Sorau, 6. for the
district of Frankfort, to which he has devoted the profits of his work
on Arithmetic ; and c. for the district of Potsdam.

In the district of Frankfort it has since been found better to estab-
lish, instead of one widow's society for the whole government, to es-
tablish a fund in each synod ; an arrangement which has in most
cases been entirely successful. In the case of the fund for the dis-
trict of Potsdam, the plainest conclusions of experience were unfortu-
nately so much overlooked, that after a few years the allowancesr
which are raised only from taxation, were materially reduced ; the
consequence of which has lately been many complaints.

'2. The Peace Society of Potsdam, founded at the Reformation
I-V-tival in 1818; a society for the support of talented but poor
young men, who are devoted to the arts or sciences. More than a
hundred such have been supported by the society. Further informa-
tion about this society, and its statutes, may be found in Guts-Muth's
"\i-\v Library of Pedagogy."

3. The Civil Orphan House — a twin child, as von Turk calls it, in
which about thirty orphan boys are supported. The original fund
of this institution was raised from the sale of a collection of paintings
belonging to von Turk. It received an express royal sanction in a
cabinet order dated 21st February, 1825. Up to 1841, thirty-six
young men had received their education in this establishment.

4. The Fund for the Education and Support of Orphan Girls ; an
institution which originated together with the Civil Orphan House,
and which is managed in the same way. Up to 1841, twenty orphan
girls had been supported by it.

5. The Orphan House at Klein- Glienicke near Potsdam, for the
orphan children of artizans, elementary teachers and the lower grades,
of public officers.

372

VON TURK.

It may not be uninteresting to describe the precise circumstances
which led to the foundation of the Klein-Glienicke house. Von Turk
heard that the Crown Prince was desirous of buying the hunting seat
known as Klein-Glienicke, then occupied as a factory, in order to im-
prove it into the counterpart of Prince Carl's adjacent beautiful estate
in Glienicke. Von Turk accordingly quietly bought it, and offered it
to the Crown Prince at the cost price, but received the answer that
he would not be able to make use of the offer. Under these circum-
stances von Turk applied to his tried friend, Chief President von
Bassewitz, and by his mediation gained permission to resign, his hasty
bargain at a small loss. He, however, made no use of the permission,
but told his friend that he would retain the property, and found there
another orphan house, to serve as a sort of supplement to the Civil
Orphan House, which was intended for the sons of persons of rather
higher rank. In fact he laid his plans before some of the higher
authorities, but the means which he could show for the establishment
of his intended institution were so small that permission was refused
him. But promises of support gradually came in, and the heads of
several departments, especially Postmaster-general von Nagler and
the Ministers of Justice and of Finance declaring in its favor, on ac-
count of an arrangement to establish endowed places in it for orphans
of their departments, the institution was finally set in operation.
The plans for it were remodeled more than once, and more than one
reckoning of the funds made ; but at last, an association being formed
which purchased the real estate from von Turk, and there were thus
secured sufficient means to open the establishment for those at least
for whom endowed places had been promised. Von Turk never
lost his faith in ultimate success, though the funds still remained de-
ficient. It happened that the disposition of some funds from a war-
Indemnity, not accepted by those entitled to them, were intrusted to
the disposal of his chief, von Bassewitz, who, with the consent of the
families of these proprietors, appropriated three thousand thalers
{about 82,250,) from this source to the new Orphan House. Thus
all difficulties were obviated. The association met, completed the
purchase of Klein-Glienicke, leased it to von Turk, who was now able
to proceed with the completion of his institution ; and had the pleas-
ure of seeing it flourish under his eyes.

In a letter of the present year, (1846,) relating to Klein-Glienicke,
von Turk writes, " Here, the favorite idea of rny teacher and
master, Pestalozzi, is realized; education, combined with agricul-
ture and gardening. My scholars now number about thirty. I have
bout two hundred Magdeburg morgen, (the morgen is about five-

VON TURK.

373

thirteenths of an acre,) of tilled land, from sixteen to twenty morgen
of garden and nurseries, twenty-four morgen of meadows, and a dairy
which accommodates twenty cows and five horses, besides sufficient
room for the silk-making, except that the latter is not comfortably
accommodated in winter. I feel great interest in encouraging the
establishment of similar institutions. What has been possible for me,
without financial resources and in spite of the many prejudices with
which I have had to contend, (for example, 1 have been a govern-
ment official ; and our burghers and laboring classes do not love the
government officials; and I have had the little prefix 'von' before
my name,) must be possible elsewhere under more favorable cir-
cumstances."

6. Soup Distribution Institution for the Old, Sick, Feeble, and
Poor, and Lying-in- Women. By the day-book of the institution,
96.908 portions of soup were distributed in 1845. This was received
by six hundred and fifty-one families, including four hundred and
forty-one married persons, four hundred and thirty-eight widows and
single persons, and thirteen hundred and forty children ; in all two
thousand two hundred and nineteen persons. The cost of one portion
of soup was about 3-|- pfennig, (about three-fifths of a cent.)

For some years von Turk had been complaining of the decay of
his bodily strength and of his memory, when, in 1845, while he was
in Berlin, a dangerous sickness seized him, from which he has never
entirely recovered. He died July 31, 1846. His wife, two children
and adopted daughter were by his side, and his last hours were
peaceful and without pain. His memory will long endure.

On the 25th of the April before his departure from the world in
which he had labored so nobly and benevolently, a letter, not with-
out interest in this connection, from which a portion follows. To the
request that he would communicate an autobiography for Hergang's
Encyclopaedia, he replies that he is unable. ** My autobiography,'1
he says, " lies ready written in my desk, but I propose to publish it
for the benefit of the Teachers' orphans. I have established here an
orphan house, especially intended for the orphans of teachers ; but
their numbers and necessities in the province of Brandenburg, for
which the institution is founded, are so great, that I am oblig-d to
refuse many applications ; and thus I am contriving the means for
assisting a larger number." "The motives which have impelled me
to the establishment of the institutions which I have commenced,
and the manner and means by which, without means of my own, and
without the gift of eloquence, I have been able to accomplish these
designs, will be related in my biography, that others, more richly
endowed, may learn how to do the like." " I am in my seventy-

374

VON TURK.

third year, on the borders of the grave, in body much broken, but
peaceful and happy in mind, and in all my efforts for the improve-
ment and elevation of my fellow-citizens, having enjoyed a success far
beyond my hopes." "At Easter I dismissed from the Civil Orphan
House, a pupil, son of a country clergyman, who is now studying
theology in Berlin. Several of my scholars are already laboring as
preachers, judges, physicians, public officials, carpenters, architects,
teachers and officers." How happy must we reckon thee, excellent
man, who, while still living, hast experienced such intellectual and
heartfelt pleasure ! Thy works follow thee into eternity ; their
memory shall even give thee ever increasing pleasure, and many,
happy through thy means, shall bring thee thanks.

Noble and venerable as von Turk was, he was yet attacked by the
arrows of wicked calumny. On this point we shall only relate the
following :

Bishop Eylert relates in his character of Frederic William III.,
(vol. 2,) that von Turk was suspected by that monarch of being an
unprincipled demagogue. Von Turk was living amongst the com-
mon people, as his inborn and profound preference made it happiest
for him to live, and laboring for their good by his writings and in his
official station, according to his irresistible vocation ; and some per-
sons had concluded that to be doing this without apparent interested
motives, and without remuneration for the necessary sacrifices of labor,
means and time, was enough to stamp von Turk a dangerous dema-
gogue. Bishop Eylert, who was a friend of von Turk, undertook to
remove this impression from the king's mind. Having argued the
case, the king said, " I am glad to have my former opinion corrected,
and to be able to entertain a good opinion of one who has certainly
been accused to me." At the next festival of the order, von Turk
received the red order of nobility ; the king immediately interested
himself in the Civil Orphan House at Potsdam, and for the institution
at Klein-Glienicke, where he endowed additional scholarships, made
presents to the orphans, and continued to von Turk, at his resigna-
tion of his place as royal and school councilor, in order to devote
himself wholly to his institutions, the whole amount of his salary aa
tension.

EGBERT OWEN AND FACTORY POPULATIONS.

ROBERT - OWEN — 1771-1858.

[ROBERT OWEN, whatever we may think of him as a reorganize! of
human society, and readjuster of the relations of capital and labor, de-
serves a recognition among the Practical Educators of his time as a re-
former of the demoralizing Home Life and Education of Factory Popula-
tions, and one of the earliest to recognize the importanca of regulating
the plays and employments of very young children, so as to promote their
healthy development as human beings. We copy the following notice of
his life, and particularly of his labors at New Lanark from his son's
(Robert Dale Owen) Autobiography :]

EDUCATION AND EARLY BUSINESS LIFE.

Robert Owen, born in Newtown, North Wales, in 1771, was, like my
grandfather, a self-made man. His specific plans, as a Social Reformer,
proved, on the whole and for the time, a failure ; and this, for lack of
cultivated judgment and critical research, and of accurate knowledge
touching what men had thought and done before his time; also because
he strangely overrated the ratio of human progress ; but more especial,
ly, perhaps, because, until late in life, he ignored the spiritual element in
man as the great lever of civilized advancement. Yet with such earnest-
ness, such vigor, such indomitable perseverance, and such devotion and
love for his race did he press, throughout half a century, these plans on
the public, and so much practical truth was there, mixed wiih visionary
•expectation, that his name became known, and the influence of his teach-
ings Las been more or less felt, over the civilized world. A failure in gross
lias been attended by sterling incidental successes ; and toward the great
Idea of co-operation — quite impracticable, for the present at least, in the
form he conceived it — there have been, ever since his death, v^ry consid-
erable advances made, and generally recognized by earnest men as emi-
nently useful and important.

At the age of ten, his travelling expenses paid and ten dollars in his
pocket, Robert Owen found himself in London, whither he had been
sent to the care of an elder brother, to " push his fortune." Six weeks
afterwards he obtained a situation as shop-boy with an honest, kind
Scotchman, Mr. James McGuffog, a linen draper of Stamford, Lincolnshire,
where he remained four years ; the first year for board and lodging only ;
afterwards with a salary added, of eight pounds the second year, and a
gradual increase thereafter — an independence for the child, who thence-
forth maintained himself. The labor was moderate, averaging eight
hours a day. McGuffog was childless ; but he adopted a niece, two years
younger than his Welsh apprentice ; and between the two children there
grew up a warm friendship. When my father finally decided, at four-

376

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS —ROBERT OWEN.

teen years of age, to return to London, he and the family parted with,
mutual regrets.

He then became salesman in the long-established haberdashery houee-
of Flint & Palmer, on Old London Bridir*'. There he had twenty-five
pounds ti year, with board and lodging ; but he was occupied often till
one or two o'clock in the morning, arranging and replacing goods, so that
he was scarcely able to crawl, by aid of the balusters, up to bed. The
details of the morning toilet I give in his own words : "We were up, had
breakfast, and were dressed to receive customers at eight ; and dressing
then was no slight affair. Boy as I was, I had to wait my turn for the
hair-dresser to powder and pomatum and curl my hair — two large curls on
each side and a stiff pigtail — and until this was nicely done, no one
thought of presenting himself behind the counter."

He endured this ceremonious slavery for half a year ; then found
another, easier situation, and a larger salary, with Mr. Satterfield, in Man-
chester, which he kept for four years and until he was between eighteen
and nineteen.

His life so far had been passed entirely in subordinate positions ; in
which, however, he acquired habits of regulated industry, strict order,
and persistent attention to business.

For a few months after this he was in partnership with a Mr. Jones,
manufacturing cotton machinery. While thus engaged he received a
cordial letter from his former master, McGuffog, now become old and
wealthy, with a proposal, if Owen would join him in business, to supply
all the capital and give him half the profits at once; and with the
further intimation that he would surrender the entire establishment to
him in a few years. It appears that the niece had conceived a childish
attachment to her playmate, though the object of her affection did not
discover that she had till many years afterwards ; and, perhaps, a knowl-
edge of this may have influenced the uncle. " If I had accepted," pays
my father in his autobiography, " I should most likely have married the
nieco, and lived and died a rich Stamford linen-draper." Why, then only
nineteen } ears old, he refused an offer in every way so eligible does not
appear. If, as is probable, he then expected large profits from his present
enterprise, he soon discovered his mistake — separating from his partner,
in whom he had lost confidence, after a few months, and taking, as his.
share of Ptock, three mule-machines only.

With these, however, he did well ; engaging three men to work them
and superintending the business himself. He bought roving* at twelve
shillings a pound and sold them, spun into thread, for twenty-two shil-
lings— thus gaining two dollars on each pound of yarn he turned out. At
these rates the profits soon ran up to thirty dollars a week ; a fact which
lets one into the secret of the enormous fortunes then made in this
business.

Some months passed, when one Monday morning he read an advertise-
ment by a Mr. Drinkwater, a wealthy merchant and manufacturer, for a
factory manager. A sudden impulse induced him to present himself, an
applicant for the place.

" You are too young," was Mr. Drinkwater's curt objection.

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN. 377

" They used to object to me," said my father, " on that score four or fiv
years ago ; but I did not expect to have it brought up now."

" Why, what age are you ?"

" I shall be twenty in May next."

" How often do you get drunk in the week ?"

My father blushed sea, let. " I never," he said indignantly, "was drunk
in my life."

This seemed to produce a good impression. The next question was :
•' Wh:it salary do you ask ?"

" Three hundred a year " (that is, three hundred pounds ; as much aa
from t\vo to three thousand dollars to-day).

" Three hundred a year! Why, I've had I don't know how many after
the place here, this morning ; and all their askings together wouldn't
come up to what you want."

" Whatever others may ask, I cannot take less. I am making thre&
hundred a year by my own business."

" Can you prove that to me ? *'

" Certainly. My books will show."

" I'll go with you, and you shall let me see them."

He inspected them, was so far satisfied; and then my father reftrred
him to Satterfield, McGuffog, and Flint & Palmer.

Ten days later Robert Owen was installed manager of what went by
the name of the " Bank Top Mill." A raw youth, whose entire experi-
ence in the operations of cotton-spinning was limited to the running of
three mules — who had never entered a large factory in his life — found
himself suddenly at the head of five hundred work people. It might
conceal his first blunders, but in reality it added to the difficulty of the
position, that Mr. Lee, the working partner and a practical cotton-spinner,
had just formed another business connection and deserted Mr. Drink water,
who, thouorh an experienced fustian manufacturer and a successful im-
porting merchant, knew no:hing practically of the new manufacture then
coming into vogue.

It was the turning point in my father's fortunes. There is not, proba-
bl1.', one young man in a thousand, coming suddenly to a charge so
arduous and for which no previous training had fitted him, who would
not have miscarried, and been dismissed ere a month had passed. But
Robert Owen had received from nature rare administrative capacity,
large human sympathy, and a winning way with those he employed.
For six weeks, he tells us, he went about the factory looking grave ;
paying little, but silently inspecting everything; answering requests ^or
instructions as laconically as possible, and giving no direct order in all
that time ; at night studying Mr. Lee's notes and drawings of machinery.
Then he took the reins, and so managed matters that in six months there
was not, in Manchester, a more orderly or better disciplined factory. He
had gained the good-will of employer and work people ; and had greatly
improved the quality and reputation of the Bank Top yarn. He had also
become an excellent judge of cott n ; and, early in 1791, he bought, from
a Mr. Robert Spear, the two first bags of American Sea Island cotton ever
imported into England.

378 PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN.

In the Spring of 1797 he connected himself with two rich nn<l long-
established firms, Borrodaile & Atkinson of London and the Bartons of
Manchester, under the name of the " Chorlton Twis-t Company." Stum
after, business took him to Scotland; and there, both as regards his
domestic life and his future career, public and private, he met his fate.
A sister of- the Robert Spear above mentioned happened, at that time, to
be on a visit to my grandfather; and my fuller, walking near the Cross
of Glasgow one day met and recognized her. She introduced him to a
young lady who was with her, Miss Ann Caroline Dale, David Dah-'s
eldest daughter; and, turning, he walked with the ladies some distance.
Miss Dale and the young cotton spinner seemed to have been mutually
attracted from the first. She offered him an introduction to her uncle,
then manager of her father's establishment at New Lanark ; suggesting,
at die same time, that the Falls of Clyde, a mile or two beyond the mill,
were well worth seeing. The offer was eagerly accepted, and the lady
then added that, when he had made the trip, she would be glad to hear
from him how he liked it.

Of course he called, on his return to Glasgow, to render thanks for her
kindness. Fortune favored the young people. Mr. Dale was absent; the
morning was fine; a walk in the " Green " (the park of Glasgow) was
proposed, and my father accompanied Miss Dale and her sisters to the
banks of the Clyde. The young lady dropped a hint — not quite as
broad as Desdemona's — that they would probably be walking there early
next day.. But, " on this hint " my father, less adventurous than Othello,
spake not. Rejoined the party, indeed; but the day after he returned to
his snug bachelor quarters at a country house called Greenheys, near
Manchester.

The standing and reputation of David Dale dismayed him ; not alone
his wealth, his eminence as a manufacturer, his prominence as a popular
preacher :md bounteous philanthropist, his position as chief of the two
directors, in the Glasgow branch of the Royal Bank of Scotland; but.
more than these, his former station as one of the magistrates of Glasgow.

We of America are unfavorably situated, at this day, to appreciate the
exalted respect with which the magistrates of Scotland's chief cities were
then regarded; and which, to a great extent, they have retained till now.
During a week which I spent, in 1859, with Robert Chambers, the well-
known author and publisher, at his Edinburgh residence, I questioned
him closely as to the manner in which the municipal atfiirs of the city
were conducted. His replies surprised mo. " I have never," he said,
"heard even a suspicion whispered, affecting the unblemished integrity
of our city magistrates. There is not a man who would dare approach
one of them with any offer or suggestion touching official action inconsist-
ent with the strictest honor. He would know that, if he did, he might
expect to have a servant rung for, and bidden to show him into the street."

" And the contracts," I asked, " by the City Councils, as for building,
street alterations, and the like — how are they managed ?"

" With better judgmeir and more economy, it is genera^y admitted,
than the average of contracts by private individuals."

" Who are these incorruptible men ? What are their antecedents ? "

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN. 379

"Usually gentlemen who have made large fortunes here; eminent
in -rchatits or manufacturers, or others who have retired, perhaps, from
active business, and who consider it the crowning glory of their lives to
take place among the magistracy of Edinburgh."

I must have smiled sadly, I suppose, for Chambers asked : " You are
thinking of New York and some others of your own cities, with their
universal suffrage ?"

" Yes."

But my father was thinking of a Glasgow magistrate, such as h -Id
office toward the close of the last century ; and he despaired of winning
the great man's daughter.

[On the 30th of September, 1799, Miss Dale became Mrs. Robert Owen,
who had by previous purchase, in company with his Manchester partners,
become the owner of the New Lanark Cotton Mills, of which he took
charge in January, 1811, and in this capacity began and effected great]
Reforms in Factory Life.

Robert Owen's ruling passion was the love of his kind, individually
and collectively. An old friend of his said to me, jestingly, one day, when
I had reached manhood, " If your good father had seven thousand
children, instead of seven, I am sure he would love them devotedly."
But the inference thence to be drawn is unfounded. If we were only
seven, he was to every one of us a most affectionate, even indulgent,
parent. His organ of adhesiveness could not have been less than that of
benevolence ; while the organs of hope and self-esteem were equally pre-
dominant. I think that these four sentiments, together with large order
and firmness, chiefly governed his life and shaped his destiny.

My father enabled his children to obtain many weapons which he him-
self never possessed. He had none of the advantages of regulated study.
He did, indeed, between the ages of eight and ten, devour a good many
volumes ; among them he himself enumerates Robinson Crusoe, Quarles
(including no doubt his Emblems and his History of Samson), Pilgrim's
Progress, Paradise Lost, Richardson's novels, Harvey's Meditations,
Young's Night Thoughts, aud many other religious books, chiefly Meth-
odist; but these works, justly famed as some of them are, must have
made a strange jumble in an infant mind, left to digest their contents
unguided even by a suggestion, aud, as he tells us, "believing every
word of them to be true."

When I first remember him, he read a good deal ; but it was chiefly
one or two London dailies, with other periodicals as they came out. He
was not, in any true sense of the word, a student. One who made his
own way in life, unheeded by a single dollar, from the age of ten, could
not well be. I never found, in his extensive library, a book with a mar-
ginal note, or even a pencil mark of his, on a single page. He usually
glanced over books, without mastering them; often dismissing them
with some such curt remark as that "the radical errors shared by all
men made books of comparatively little value." Except statistical works,
of which his favorite was " Colquhoun's Resources of the British
Empire," I never renv mber to have seen him occupied in taking notes
from anv book whatever.

380 PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN.

In tliis way lie worked out his problems for human improvement to.
great disadvantage, missing a thousand things that great minds had
thought and said before his time, and often mistaking ideas that were
truly his own, for novelties that no human being had heretofore given to
the world.

Thus it happened that, while bringing prominently forward principles
of vast practical importance that had been too much neglected both by
governments and individuals, he forfeited, in a measure, the confidence of
cultivated men by evident lack of familiarity with precedent aut orities
on the same subjects, and from inability to assiga to a few favorite
axioms their fitting place and just relative importance in a system of
reformatory philosophy.

But to counterbalance these disadvantages he had eminent mental
qualities that worked for him, with telling effect, whenever he came into-
contact with the masses, either as employer, in the early days of which I
am now writing, or, later in life, as a public teacher. The earnestness of
his convictions— all the stronger for imagining old ideas to be original —
amounted to enthusiasm. I do not think that Napoleon was more untir-
ing in his perseverance, or that Swedenborg had a more implicit con-
fidence in himself; and to this was joined a temperament so sanguine
that he was unable — no matter what rebuffs he met with — unable, even
as an octogenarian, to conceive the possibility of ultimate failure in his
plans. During the afternoon immediately preceding his death he was
arranging, with the rector of the parish, for a series of public meetings
(at which he promised to speak), looking to an organization that should
secure to every child in and near his native town the best education
which modern lights and knowledge could supply.

But I am speaking now of a period more than half a century past,
when he was in the vigor of early manhood. At that time his two lead-
ing ideas of reform were temperance and popular instruction.

No grog-shops, indeed, were permitted in the village, but liquor was
obtained in the o'd town. Robert Owen, acting on his belief in the
efficacy of circumstances, soon wrought a radical change. He had village
watchmen, who patrolled the streets at night, and who were instructed to
take down the name of every man found drunk. The inebriate was fined
so much for the first offence, a largef sum for the second, the fines being
deducted from his wag.js; and the th rd offence resulted in dismissal,,
sometimes postponed if he showed sincere repentance. Then the people
were so justly and kindly treated, their wages were so liberal, and their
hours of labor so much shorter than the average factory hours through-
out Great Britain, that dismissal was felt to be a misfortune not to be
lightly incurred.

The degree to which, after eight or ten years of such discipline, in-
temperance was weeded out in New Lanark may be judged by the follow-
ing incident.

I was in the habit of going to " The Mills," as we called them, almost
daily. One day, in my twelfth year, when I had accompanied my father
on his usual morning visit, and we had reached a sidewalk which con-
ducted from our porter's 1 •dof to the main street of the village, IL

PRACTICAL EDUCATO^C — ROBERT OWEX. 381

•observed, at a little distance on the path before us, a man who stopped at
intervals in his walk, and staggered from side to side.

" I apa," said I, " look at that man. He must have been taken sud-
denly ill."

" What do you suppose is the matter with him, Robert ?"

" I don't know. I never saw any man act so. Is he subject to fits ? Do
you know him, papa ? "

" Yes, my dear, I know him. He is not subject to fits, but he is a very
unfortunate man." " What kind of illness has he ?"

My father stopped, looked first at the man before us, and then at me.
** Thank 3rod, my son, " he said, at last, " that you have never before seen
a drunken man."

Robert Owen's predominant love of order brought about another
important reform. Elizabeth Hamilton, who spent several years as gov-
erness in a Scottish nobleman's family, has well described, in her Cot-
tagers of Grlenburnie, the careless untidiness and slatternly habits which,
at the commencement of the present century, characterized the peasantry
of Scotland. " I canna' be fashed " was the usual reply, if any one sug-
gested that cleanliness, among the virtues, should rank next to godliness.

A writer, whose parents settled as workers in the New Lanark mills as
early as 1803, states that in those days each family had but a single apart-
ment, the houses being of one story only ; and that before each door it
was not unusual to find a dung-hill. He tells us, also, that one of Robert
Owen's first reforms was to add an additional s:ory to every lions 3, giving
two rooms to most of the families ; and that the dung-hills were carried
off to an adjoining farm, and a renewal of the nuisance was imperatively
forbidden.

As I recollect the village, its streets, daily swept at the expense of the
company, were kept scrupulously clean ; and its tidy appearance in every
respect was the admiration of strangers.

A reform of a more delicate character, upon which my father ventured,
met serious opposition. After each family became possessed of adequate
accommodations, most of them still maintained in their interior disorder
and uncleaniness. My father's earnest recommendations on the subject
passed unheeded. He then called the work people together, and gave
several lectures upon order and cleanliness as among the Christian
virtues. His audience lizard, applauded, and went home content " to
do as weel as their forbears, and no to heed English clivers."

Thereupon my father went a step further. He called a general meet-
ing of the villagers ; and, at his suggestion, a committee from among
themselves was appointed, whose duty it was to visit each family weekly,
and report in writing upon the condition of the house. This, according
to the statement of the author last quoted, while grumblingly acquiesced
in by the men, was received " with a storm of rage and opposition by the
women." They had paid their rent, and did no harm to the house ; and
it was nobody's business but their own whether it was clean or dirty. If
they had read Romeo and Juliet, which is not likely, I dare say they
would have greeted the intruders as the Xurse did her prying ma'ster —

" <^°, you cotquean, co;
G t y u I '

382 PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — RO3ELT OV»~i;X.

As it was, while a few, fresh from mop and scrubbing-brush, received
the committee civilly, a large majority either locked their doors or met
the inquisitors with abuse, calling them " bug-hunters " and other
equally flattering names.

My father took it quietly; showed no anger toward the dissenters;
encouraged the committee to persevere, but instructed them to ask admit-
tance as a favor only ; and allowed the small minority, who had welcomed
these domiciliary visits, to have a few plants each from his green-house.
This gratuity worked wonders ; conciliation of manner gradually over-
came the first jealousy of intrusion ; and a few friendly visits by my
mother, quietly paid to those who were especially tidy in their house
holds, still further quelled the opposition. Gradually the weekly reports
of the committee became more and more favorable.

Within the mills everything was punctiliously "kept. Whenever I
visited them with my father, I observed that he picked up the smallest
flocks of cotton from the floor, handing them to some child near by, to be
put in his waste-bag.

"Papa," said I one day, " what does it signify — uicli a little speck of
cotton ? " '

" The value of the cotton," he replied, "is nothing, but the example is
much. It is very important that these people should acquire strict
habits of order and economy."

In working out these and other reforms, my father, a scrupulous
respecter of the rights of conscience and of entire freedom of opinion,
never exercised, except in the case of habitual drunkards, the power of
dismissal which his office as sole manager placed in his hands. The
writer already quoted, who spent his youth and early manhood at New
Lanark, bears testimony to this. "I never knew," he says, "of a single
instance in which Mr. Owen dismissed a worker for having manfully and
conscientiously objected to his measures."

School Reforms.

The New Lanark schools, and the cause of education generally, were the
subjects which, at this period of my father's life, chiefly engrossed his
attention. His first appearance as a speaker was as president at a public
dinner, given in the city of Glasgow in 1812, to Joseph Lancaster, the
well-known educational reformer. In the character of this gentleman, a
Quaker, there was a strange mixture of honest, self-sacrificing zeal, and
imprudent, self-indulgent ostentation. As early as 1789 he labored stoutly
among the poor of South wark, teaching a school of three hundred out-
cast children for years almost gratuitously. When his system finally
attracted attention, and subscriptions poured in upon him, prosperity
called forth weaknesses, and he squandered the money given for better
purposes. I recollect that he drove up one afternoon, on invitation of
my father, to. Braxfield House, with four horses to his post-chaise— a
luxury in which I never knew my father to indulge.

When, somewhat later, my father gave five thousand dollars to aid in
the general introduction of the Lancaster system of instruction, I re-
member that my mother, adverting to the four horses, demurred to the

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN. 383;

wisdom of so munificent a subscription. And I think that, in view of
Lancaster's prodigality, she was in the right.

This Lancastrian system — one of mutual instruction, with monitors,
selected from the pupils, as sub-teachers — was equally economical and
superficial. It had its good points, however, and could be maintained
where the funds were insufficient for anything better. My father,,
enthusiastic at first in its favor, gradually changed it for something more
thorough and effective.

In the speech which Robert Owen made at the Lancaster dinner, the
views which he afterwards elaborated touching the formation of charac-
ter first peeped out. " General differences," he said, " bodily and mental,,
between inhabitants of various regions, are not inherent in our nature,
nor do they arise from the respective soils on which we are born ; they
are wholly and solely the effect of education." While it is difficult to-
exaggerate the importance of education, in the extended sense of the
term, this proposition is clearly extravagant, ignoring as it does the
influences, often dominant, of race, climate, soil, whether fertile or barren,,
and hereditary qualities transmitted through successive generations. But
the speech was applauded to the echo, and called forth from a certain
Kirkman Finlay — then the great man of Glasgow — a laudatory letter.

" This induced me," says my father in his Autobiography, " to write my
four Essays on the Formation of Character."

As early as 1809 my father had laid the foundations of a large building,,
afterwards called " The New Institution/' designed to accommodate all
the children of the village. But the estimated cost, upwards of twenty
thousand dollars, alarmed his partners, who finally vetoed the enterprise.

My father was [with new partners] free to carry out his \ lans of educa-
tion. He gradually completed and fitted up, at a cost of between thirty
and forty thousand dollars, the spacious school-house, the building of
which his former partners had arrested. It had five large rooms or halls,
besides smaller apartments, and a bath-room on an extensive scale, suf-
ficing for the accommodation of from four to five hundred children. No-
charge whatever was made ; and not only all the children of the work
people, but also children of all families living within a mile of the
village, were thus gratuitously instructed.

Infant 8c7iool8—lSl5.

In this institution a novel feature was introduced. Pestalozzi and
Oberlin have each been spoken of as originating the infant school system;
but my father seems to have been its true founder. I have found no
proof whatever that either of them even thought of doing what he
carried out.* He brought together upwards of a hundred children, from
one to six years of age, under two guardians, James Buchanan and Mary
Young. No attempt was made to teach them reading or writing, not even
their letters ; nor had they any set lessons at all. Much of their time
was spent in a spacious play ground. They were trained to habits of
order and cleanliness ; they were taught to abstain from quarrels, to be
kind to »ach other. They were amused with childish games and with

* Sue Bar mrd'n National Education. III. Great Br fa'". Infant Sc» oo's.

381

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — EGBERT o\Vi:.N.

stories suited to their capacity. Two large, airy rooms were set apart,
one for those under four years and one for those from four to six. This
last room was furnished with paintings, chiefly of animals, and a few
maps. It was also supplied with natural objects from the gardens, fit-Ids.
and woods. These suggested themes for conversation, or brief, familiar
lectures; but there was nothing formal, no tasks to be learned, no read-
ings from books. " When the best means of instruction are known and
adopted," says my father in his Autobiography, " I doubt whether books
will be used until children attain their tenth year." But this he cmild
not carry out at New Lanark, as the children were admitted to the mills
and were usually sent tuither by their parents, at twelve years of age.

No corporal punishment, nor threat, nor violent language was permitted
on the part of the teachers. They were required to treat the children
with the same kindness which they exacted from them toward each other.

Some years later an attempt was made by a London association, headed
by the Marquis of Lansdowne and Lord Brougham, to introduce infant
schools into the British metropolis. They obtained a teacher from New
Lanark. But they undertook to do too much, and so failed in their
object. They had lessons, tasks, study. Not satisfied with moral training
and instructive amusement, as at New Lanark, they sought prema-
turely to develop the intellectual powers. The tender brain of the infant
was over-excited ; more harm than good was done ; and the system fell,
in a measure, into disrepute, until Fru-lx-l, in his Kinder</<irttns, brought
things back to a more rational way.

1 visited our village infant school almost daily for years : and I have
never, either before or since, seen such a collection of bright, clean, good-
tempered, happy little faces.

Limitation of Hours of Labor for Children.*

At a meeting which he had previously held at the Tontine, Glasgow, he
had introduced two resolutions recommending petitions to Parliament-
one for the remission of the duty on imported cotton; the oiher for tin-
protection of factory children from labor beyond their strength. The
first passed unanimously ; the second was lost by an overwhelming
majority. Thereupon my father determined to agitate the matter himself.

As a preliminary measure wo visited all the chief factories in (iivat
Britain. The facts we collected seemed to me terrible almost beyond
belief. Not in exceptional cases, but as a general rule, we found children
of ten .'/>•')'* »W imrkcil r> gnbt rl>i f<»i rt«,t l.mr* <i tl.iy, with but half an
hour's interval for the mid-day meal, which \vas ratrn in the factory. In
tin- fine yarn cotton mills (producing from a hundred and twenty to three
hundred hanks to the pound), they were subjected to this labor in a tem-
perature usually exceeding seventy-five degrees ; and in all the cotton
factories they breathed an atmosphere more or less injurious to the lungs,
because of the dust and minute cotton fibres that pervaded it.

In some cases we found that greed of gain had impelled the mill-owners

* P T History of the Legislation of different countries to protect children fr-ra ex-
ri--iv! labor both in t:rae and in kind of work, si-e Birnard's Legal Provision J!t
in? the Education and Employment of ChUdren in factories. 1842. K
<di'i..n. 1876.

PRACTICAL EDUCATORS — ROBERT OWEN. 385

t -i r-till greater extremes of inhumanity, utterly disgraceful, indeed, to a
civili/ed nation. Their mills were run fifteen and, in exceptional cases,
<>urs a day with a single set of hands; and they did not scruple
to employ children of both sexes from the age of eight. We actually
found a c msiderable number under that age.

It need not bo sa d that such a system could not be maintained without
corporal punishment. Most of the overseers openly carried stout leather
thongs, and we frequently saw even the youngest children severely
beaten.

We sought out the surgeons who were in the habit of attending these
children, noting their names and the facts to which they testified. Their
.-•tories h:iunted my dreams. In some large factories, from one-fourth to
Din- fifth of the children were either cripples or otherwise deformed, or
p •rmuneii'ly injured by excessive toil, sometimes by brutal abuse. The
y >;mger children seldom held out more than three or four years without
severe illness, often ending in death.

When we expressed surprise that parents should voluntarily condemn
their sons and daughters to slavery so intolerable, tiie explanation seemed
:o bo that many of the fathers were out of work themselves, and so were
i;: u measure driven to the sacrifice for lack of bread; while others,
imbtMti'd by intemperance, saw with indifference an abuse of the infant
faculties compared to which the infanticide of China may almost be
termed humane.

In London my father laid before several members of Parliament the
muss of evidence he had collected, and a bill which he had prepared, for-
iing the employment in factories of child-workers under twelve years
<>f uge, and fixing the hours ihey might be employed at ten a day.
Finally he obtained from the elder Sir Robert Peel (father of the well-
known Prime Minister, and then between sixty and seventy years old), a
promise to introduce this humane measure into the House of Commons.
Sir Robert, then one of the r.chest cotton-spinners in the kingdom, and a
iiber of twenty-five years' standing, possessed considerable influence.
i he exerted it heartily, I think (and my father thought) that the
measure might have been carried the first session. But, in several inter-
vi -\vs with him to which I accompanied my father, even my inexperience
a slackness of purpose and an indisposition to offend his fellow
;;ifacturers, who were almost all violently opposed to the measure. I
think it probable that his hesitation was mainly due to a conscioi:

it ill became him to denounce cruelties, in causing which he had
himself had a pr.miineut share. The bill dragged through the House for
four sessions ; and when passed at last, it was in a mutilated and compar-
atively valueless form.

Pending its discussion I frequently attended with my fatherthe sessions

<>f a committee of the House appointed to collect evidence and report on

the condition of factory children. He was a chief witness, and one day

had to >; and (and did stand unmoved) a bitter cross-examination by Sir

''hilips, a "cotton lord." as the millionaires among mill owners

trere then popularly called. This oppressor of childhood questioned my
ither as to his religious opinions, and other personal matters equally

366 PRACTICAL EDUCATORS— ROBERT OWEN.

irrelevant, in a tone so insolent, that, to my utter shame, I could not
repress my tears. They were arrested, however, when Lord Brougham
(then plain Henry) called the offender to order, and a'ter commenting, in
terms that were caustic to my h art's content, on the impertinent charac-
ter of Sir George's cross-examination, moved that it be expunged from the
records of the committee — a motion which was carried without a dissent-
ing voice.

Throughout the four years during which this reformatory measure was-
in progress, my father (in truth the soul of the movement) was unremit-
ting in his endeavors to bring the evidence he had obtained before the
public. The periodical press aided him in this ; an! I remember that one
touching story in particular had a wide circulation. It came out in
evidence given before the committee by an assistant overseer of the poor.
He was called upon to relieve a father out of employment, and found his
only child, a factory girl, quite ill ; and he testifies further as follows :
" Some time after, the father came to me with tears in his eyes. ' What's- '
the matter, Thomas ? ' I asked. He said, ' My little girl is gone ; she died
in the night ; and what breaks my heart is this — though she was not able
to do her work, I had to let her go to the mill yesterday morning. She
promised to pay a little boy a half-penny on Saturday, if he would help
her so she could rest a little. I told her he should have a penny.' At
night the child could not walk home, fell several times by the way, and
had to be carried at last to her father's house by her companions. She
never spoke intelligibly afterwards. She was ten years old."

Industrial Element — Diversions — Military Drill.

My father sought to make education as practical as possible. The girls.
were taught sewing and knitting, and both sexes, in the upper classes,
besides geography and natural history, had simple lessons in drawing.
Yet it was not the graver studies that chiefly interested and pleased our
numerous visitors ; the dancing and music lessons formed the chief at-
traction. The juvenile performers were dressed alike, all in tartan, the
boys wearing the Highland kilt and hose. Carefully instructed in the
dances then in vogue, as a lesson, not as a performance, they went
through their reels and quadrilles with an ease and grace that would not
have shamed a fashionable ball room, coupled with a simplicity and un-
consciousness natural to children when they are not spoiled, but which in
higher circles is often sadly lacking.

The class for vocal music numbered, at one time, a hundred and fifty
and under a well-qualified teacher they made wonderful progress. I
selected, and had printed for them, on a succession of pasteboard sheets,,
a collection of simple airs, chiefly national Scottish melodies, which th«jy
rendered with a homely pathos scarcely attainable, perhaps, except by
those who are " to the manner born."

Another feature in our schools which proved very popular with visitors
was the military training of the older children. Drilled by a superan-
nuated soldier whom my father had hired for the purpose, and preceded
by a boy -band of a drum or two and four or five fifes, they made a VPTV
creditable appearance.

INTUITIONS IN OBJKCT TEACHING.

SUITABLE TO THE KINDERGARTEN PERIOD.*

DIESTERWEG, in answer to the questions of his pupils, "What are th?.-
intuitions that shall be addressed V': "What shall we awaken?" " Out of
what fields?" "Whence shall we take them?" — gave the following beau-
tiful resume.

1 4 Let us look at the different kinds of intuit ions — let us enumerate t hem.

1. Sensuous intuitions — not given merely mediately through the senses,

but immediately or directly — outward objects.

2. Mathematical intuitions — representations of space, time, number, and

motion, also belonging to the outward world and not directly given
by the senses, but mediately through them.

3. Moral intuitions — The phenomena of virtuous life in man.

4. Religious intuitions, oiiginating in man whose sentiments relate him to

God.

5. ^Esthetic intuitions, — from the beautiful and sublime phenomena in

nature and human life (artistic representations).

6. Purely human intuitions, which relate to the noble mutual relations of

man in love, faith, friendship, etc.

Social intuitions, which comprise the unifying of men in the great
whole in corporations, in communities, and State life. The school
cannot offer all these subjects of intuition according to their differ-
ent natures and their origin; for the school will not take the place-
of life; it only supposes them, connects itself with them, and refers
to them, it points them out in all their compass, occupies itself with
them, and builds up with them on all sides the foundation of intel
ligence.

The sensuous intuitions relate to the corporeal world and the changes in
it. The pupil must see with his own eyes, as much as possible, must hear
with his own ears, use all his senses, seek the sensuous tokens of things in
their phenomena upon, under, and above the ground, in minerals, plants,
animals, men and their works, sun, moon, and stars, physical phe-
nomena, etc.

The mathematical intuitions are developed out of the sensuous, by easy
abstractions lying near at hand, — the representations of the expansion of
sp;irc compared one with another, those of time in succession, the repre-
sentations of number — the how much — the ever-moving representations
of change in space, and the progression of the same. The simplest of
these representations are those of space; the rest become objects of intui-
tion by means of these, by points, lines, and surfaces. In arithmetic, for
instance, points, lines, and their parts, bodies and their parts are the ma-
terial of intuitions.

The moral intuitions come to tho pupil through man, through his iife
with his relatives, as in the school through schoolmates and teachers.
These are naturally inward intuitions which embody themselves in the

*Taken from Chapter on Auschauungsunterricht (•' Intuitional1' or "Object Teaching")
in the edition of Die Wegweiser fiir Deut»cfie Lehrer, issued by Diesfenveg's friends
after his death in numbers from 1873 to 1879. The Chapter entire will be found ii:->
Barnard's Journal of Education for 1880, p. 417.

388 INTUITIONAL OR OBJECT TEACHING.

expression of the countenance, in the eye, in the speech. The pupil's own
experience is the chief thing here as elsewhere. Happy the child thai i<
surrounded by thoroughly moral, pure men, whose manifestations lay in
him the moral foundation of life. The moral facts of history are pointed
out to him by the teacher from his own intuition, in H living manner by
means of the' living word, the eloquent lips, and die feeling heart.

To religion* intuitions the child comes through ilie eoLtempiation of r.u-
ture, its phenomena and beneficent workings, through the piety of /,/*
parents, the commands of the lather and mother, through contemplating
the community in the house of worship, through religious songs in the
school, through religious instruction and confirmation in school and
church, through religious-minded teachers and pastors, biblical stories, etc.

^Esthetic intuitions are awakened by the sight of beautiful and sublime
objects of nature (flowers, trees, stars, crystals, sky, and sea, rocky moun-
tains, landscapes, storms, thunder-showers, etc.), and the real objects of
ait, pictures and picture-galleries, statues, gardens, poetical products, and
human speech. We can classify their specific differences, calling them
moral, aesthetic, etc., but I hold it better to place them in one category.
The strong moral law equally binding upon all men, this field of view
does not include, for its contents cannot be unconditionally required.
That belongs to the free, beautifully human development, which is de
pendent upon conditions that are not attainable by every one.

The so-called purely human intuitions are related to the nobly formed
human lives of individual men whose characters (Inhalt) proceed from the
strongest conceptions of morality and duty, from sympathetic affections,
friendship, and love, compassion, and loving fellowship, and other shining
phenomena of exalted human life as they arc met with in the more refined
development and culture of lofty and pure men. Happy is the child who
is in their sphere! If the home offers nothing in this respect, it is difficult
to supply the want. Let the teacher do what is possible by the hold he
ha* upon the school and by all his own manifestations.

The AMsfai intuitions, that is the social circumstances of men in a large
sense are determined for the child by the manifestations of the community
in the schools, in the churches, in the assemblies of the people, in public
festivals, and especially in .-lories in which the teacher, by his living
in-ight into states, nations, and warlike communities, defines to the
scholar the best living representations of great deeds. Our early domes-
tic life, not a public one, was an obstacle to the growth of these so impor-
tant intuitions. How can he who has experienced nothing, understand
history? How can he who has not seen the people make a living picture
of IN' life? Small republics have endless advantage in respect to the
observation of public life and patriotic sentiment. Words, even the most
eloquent, give a very weak, un-alisi'artory compensation for observation.
'The year ls4s has in this respect, brought most important steps of pro-
-.* Prominent above all other consideration* is the importance of the
life, the intelligence, the standpoint, the character of the teacher, for lay-
ing the foundation of living ol)M-rvaiion in the soul, in the mind, and ic
the disposition of the pupil. What he does not cany in his own bosom
b

he cannot awaken in the bosom of another. Nothing else can
for the want of this. The teacher must himself have seen, observed.
-experienced, investigated, lived, and thought as much as possible, a*id
should exhibit a model in moral, religious, {esthetic, and purely human
and social respects. So much a- he is. M> much is his educational instruc-
tion worth. He is to his pupils the most instructive, the most appreciable,
the most striking object of observation.

* " We hope." ?ays Diepterweg's biographer, "that Father Diesterweg would have been
satisfied with the "progress from 1848 to 1871 if he could have experienced it, but let us
keep watch of ourselves in spite of nil lliat, for security. The chief battle of the
German nation seems but just now (1873) to be beginning."

PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES.

II1STOKICAL DATA.

THE earliest presentation of the principles of Pestalozzi to the
people of the United States, which has met my eye, was in a
communication based on the authority of William Macluro in the
Xational [ntelliyencer, printed in Washington on the 6th of June,
1806. This was followed on the 9th and 30th of the same
month by an elaborate exposition of his method, taken from Dr.
Chavannes' treatise published in Paris in 1805, and subsequently
printed in the Italian and Spanish languages.

WILLIAM MACLURE.

WILLIAM MACLURE, to whose broad humanitarianism science
and popular education in the United States are largely indebtedr
w;is born at Ayr in Scotland in the year 1763, and died in San
;ol in Mexico in 1840. He first visited New York in 1782, in
the interest of the London mercantile firm of Millar, Hart & Co.,
in which he soon after became a partner, with his residence in
London. He visited this country again in 1796; and in 1803 he
had become so identified with it, that he was associated by Pres-
ident Jefferson with Messrs. Mercer and Barnet in a Commission
to settle with the French government for claims of our merchants
for spoliations committed in the revolutionary period.

Satisfied with a moderate pecuniary independence, Mr. Maclure
retired from mercantile business in 1806, and entered on a course
of scientific investigations in the great field of natural history, and
especially of its mineralogy and geology, which won for him the
distinction of the Father of American Geology. W ithout the pat-
ronage of a single State, or association, and at a time when there
was little knowledge and sympathy with scientific pursuits, he
commenced a geological survey of the United States, which
extended from the river St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico,
and which before its conclusion led him fifty times over the
Alloghany range, crossing and recrossing it at different points in
every State— over pathless tracts and dreary solitudes and with

* A memoir by S. G. Morton, read before the American Academy of Natural Sciences
of Philadelphia, and printed in Silliman's Journal of Science, April, 1844. Also bio-
graphical references in Maclurc's Opinions on Various Subjects.
21

; ;i(" WILLIAM MA( I

great privations and exposures, month after month and year after
year, until he submitted a final memoir to the American Phil-
osophical Society, in 1817, having read a preliminary paper eight
years before, covering three years' work.

For several years before entering on this survey which extended
over eleven years, Mr. Maclure devoted a portion of every year to
the geology of Europe, and particularly of Switzerland, and dur-
ing his visits there he became deeply interested in the educat
work of Pestalozzi at Yverdun, and Fellenberg at Hofwyl, and
by pen and conversation, and substantial offers and aid, labored to
make their principles and methods known in his adopted country.
To this part of his history we will return after noticing further his
singularly disinterested labors in the field of science.

From 1812 Mr. Maclure took an active interest in the early his-
tory, endowment, and transactions of the Academy of Natural
Sciences at Philadelphia where he usually spent his intervals of
rest. To its museum and library he gave valuable books and
specimens, under his auspices lectures were instituted, and a Journal
was commenced. Of this academy he was elected President in
1817, and continued to the time of his death, a period of twenty-
two years; and to this institution he donated a large collection of
books and minerals in 1819 and 1835, and from time to time
made subscriptions of over $20,000 to a fund for the erection of
a fire-proof edifice, which was began in 1839 and completed
in 1840.

In 1817 he issued his Observations on the Geology of the United
.1 — with some Remarks on the Nature and Fertility of Soils, — a
corrected report of the memoirs of his survey in the transactions
of the American Philosophical Society in 1809 and 1816.

In the winter of 1816-17, Mr. Maclure visited the West Indies
to make personal observations on the geological features of the
Antilles; and submitted a memoir to the Academy in 1817, which
is printed in Vol. I of its Journal.

In 1819 he visited France and Spain, and while in Paris pre-
pared several essays for the Revue Encyclopedique which were
excluded by the Censors of the press as too democratic. These
essays were afterwards translated into Spanish and printed in
Madrid, to which the author had resorted in consequence of the
liberal constitution promulgated by the Cortes. Here his benefi-
cent activity was expended in scientific explorations and the
improvement of the system of elementary instruction by the
introduction of Pestalozzi 's methods, and of an agricultural school

WILLIAM MA i i 391

after the model of Fellenberg'.s in which manual labor should be

corn!):::. -'I with moral and intellectual culture. To facilitate his

«'d a memoir of 1'estalozzi, and Chavannes* report on

> to be printed in Spanish, and bought of the govern-

men: ID. 000 acres of land near the city of Alicant, which had

belonged to a suppressed convent. In 1823 the constitution was

overthrown, and the lands were returned to the church; and Mr.

.Ma lure in his mineralogical excursions in the mountains was in

danger of being kidnapped and held as a slave until a ransom to

amount was paid for his liberation.

In 1824 Mr. Maclure returned to the United States, intent on
establishing an agricultural school on a plan similar to that pro-
jected in Spain; and sympathizing with Mr. Robert Owen in his
ing object, 'The greatest good for the greatest number,1 and
especially in giving to the laborer with his hands the benefits of
an instructed brain, he resolved to make trial of his own plans in
the neighborhood of New Harmony, in Indiana, thirty miles
i the mouth of W abash River, where Mr. Owen had located
his settlement for the trial of his new Social System. Mr. Maclure
does not seem to have entered into the communism of Mr. Owen's
village organization, but to have confined himself to his own edu-
cational work in the immediate neighborhood, where he erected a
building for residence, to which he removed his private library,
philosophical instruments, and collections of natural history, and
to which he invited his friends, Mr. Say, Mr. Lesuer, Dr. Troost,
and others, who already had an enviable scientific reputation.

In the autumn of 1827. the plan of an educational establish-
ment of a delicate and original character, not succeeding, or at
least not developing as rapidly as the proprietors hoped, in the
natural hindrances of a new settlement like that of New Harmony,
increased by discordant elements brought together from different
countries in the expectation of a New Jerusalem, as it were,
coming down from heaven — Mr. Maclure, with his friend Mr. Say,
embarked for Mexico to secure the benefits of a more genial
climate. Here he found ample scope for his scientific investiga-
tions and his socio-economical observations and speculations,
which are embodied in his Letters from Mexico, printed in the
New Harmony Disseminator, and embodied in his volume of
Ojrinmns on 1 'arious Subjects. Here his convictions of the immense
importance of Pestalozzi's and Pellenberg's principles of education
:m t ) incur expense for their dissemination, and for a second
elL-n to establish an agricultural seminary in which the industrial
element should be an essential part of the organization and

392 WILLIAM MACLt RE.

instruction. He was present at a meeting of the American Geo-
logical Society at New Haven in November, 1828, and there,,
among other designs, announced his purpose to bring back with
him from Mexico a number of young native Indians in order to-
have them educated in the United States, and subsequently to-
become the pioneers of a better civilization among the people of
their own race. But he did not live to return from his second
visit to Mexico — his constitution, never very robust, yielded rap-
idly to the advance of age and disease, and after making great
efforts to reach Vera Cruz, (with the co-operation of his friend, the
American consul there,) on his return to Philadelphia, he died at
the country house of Valentine Gomez Farias, ex- President of
Mexico, March 23, 1840, in the seventy-seventh year of his age.

Educated in the best methods of the grammar schools of Scot-
land, trained by the responsibilities of large mercantile trans-
actions to habits of bold and yet careful calculation, liberalized by
the widest observation of natural phenonema, as well as the lar-
gest experience of mankind under different forms of government
and widely varying conditions of occupation, Mr. Maclure devoted
h:s talents and his wealth, not to the acquisition of a greater for-
tune, or personal aggrandizement, or sensual indulgence, but to the
advancement of science and the amelioration of the condition of
his fellow men, born and living in circumstances not as favorable
to happiness as himself . Prof. Silliman remarked: ' It is rare that
affluence, liberality, and the possession and love of science unite
so signally in the same individual.' The Academy of Natural
Sciences of Philadelphia, although assisted by valuable contribu-
tions from many individuals, is a monument of his liberality. At
the time of his death there was not a cabinet of natural history,
public or private, in the whole country, which had not been aug-
mented by his contributions; not a scientific publication of an
expensive character which had net been aided by his timely sub-
scription to its completion. In 1805 he enabled a young French-
man (Mr. Godon) to go from Paris to the United States, who
delivered in Boston and Philadelphia the first lectures that were
given in mineralogy in any part of the Union. He furnished the
earliest information, both in printed reports and private letters, in
1805 and 1806, for an intelligent description of the educational
views of Pestalozzi in the public press of this country; and in
1800 he paid the expenses of travel and residence in Philadelphia
for two years, to enable Mr. Joseph Neef, a pupil of Pestalozzi, to
open a school on his principles in Philadelphia.

PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES. 393:

Joseph Necf, who opened the first avowedly Pestalozzian school in the
United States, was born in Alsace about 1777, and was for a time a
pupil, and in 1801 became a teacher, at Burgdorf. In 1803 he was sent
by Pestalozzi, on the application of an orphan school and at the sug-
gestion of Count de Lezay-Marnesia, Prefect of Upper Rhine, to Paris,
where he taught the new method under such conditions, that in the
year following, Bonaparte, then first Consul, according to Pompee
(in his Study of the Life and Works of Pestalozzi, Paris, 1850 and
1878) attended a public examination of his pupils.

In 1805, William Maclure, with Mr. C. Cabal of Virginia, returned to-
Paris from Yverdun, where he had become deeply interested in
Pestalozzi and his method ; sought out Neef, who tells the story of the
interview and results as follows :

"On what terms," said Mr. Maclure, "will you go to my country and
introduce there your method of education ? I have seen Pestalozzi, I
know his system"; my country needs it, and will receive it with enthusi-
asm. I engage to pay your passage and meet all expenses. Go and be
your master's apostle in the new world!" My soul was warmed with
admiration at such uncommon generosity. Republican by inclination
and principle, and, of course, not at all pleased with the new order of

things at home, I was not only glad to quit Europe, but I burnt with
desire to see that country, to live in and be useful to a country which
could boast of such citizens. But what still more exalts Mr. Maclure's

magnanimity is that I did not at that period understand English at all.
Two years at least were to be allowed for my acquiring sufficient
knowledge of the language, during which time I had no resource but
Mr. Maclure's generosity. But neither this nor any other consideration
could stagger liis resolution. Thus it was that I became an inhabitant of
the new world."

Mr. Neef opened his school near Germantown in June, 1809, and in
1811, the Providence (R. I.) American, publishes a letter in answer to
inquiries respecting the new system, which was copied into Niles'
Weekly Register (Baltimore), of September 28th. From this reprint our
extracts are taken.

Everything I have said, or which the power of language could express,
would fall short of an adequate description of the effects already pro-
duced by Neef's system, which will not have been two years in operation
till the '9th of June. Such indeed are the effects, that many who go-
there and see and hear are amazed, become incredulous, only because
they can not see how it is produced. I, who have been a constant visitor,
have had an opportunity to mark the principle of the method, as well aa
to note the astonishing ease, certainty, and simplicity of the process. . . .

By the old system, children have a primer or horn book put inta
their hands, and they begin to learn the arbitrary and unmeaning names
of certain signs called the alphabet.

By Neef's system, they begin to learn the names of all their limbs, mem-
bers, and different relations and uses of all parts of the human body.
Nearly two years elapse before they hear of an alphabet or a book; nor
pen and ink, until they are able to read and write. This is an apparent
parodox ; but it is nevertheless true.

The second stage of the old system is to spell single syllables.

The second stage of Neef's method is to put a slate and pencil before'
the boy, and to bring his hand to the habit of drawing a straight line-
without the aid of a rule, and to draw the line to any given number of

394 PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES.

inches as called for, by the eye only, and without any rule to measure,
except utter it is done, to exhibit its accuracy.

The third stage in the new is to divide the straight line into any
required number of parts by the eye instantly, and with an exactness
that shall stand the test of the compass and rule.

The fourth stage of the old school is words of four syllables.

The fourth stage of the new school, is to discriminate between the
properties of lines — horizontal, vertical, and oblique, — and so he pro-
ceeds to visible objects Strange as it may appear, these

lessons with the pencil lead to the art of alphabetical writing, and the
Alphabet alter this course is not a matter of mere rote, but is established
in the mind with precise ideas of its uses, as an agent for convenience to
the memory, not as the essential object of learning.

The lessona :in- conducted like sports, and they are rarely more than
an hour at any time in the school-room; nor do the lesson* proceed in an
arbitrary rotation. There is a certain order, but it is in the teacher's
mind. The preceding lesson invariably leads to. and aids that which is

to follow Their morning rambles over hills and valleys,

rocks and declivities, are nothing more than exercises in gymnastics, or
in natural history; minerals, earths, plants, and trees are investigated;
the measurement of a triangle by the eye on a slate is now applied to the
measurement of a similar figure in the open fields, and the chain of
perches perform the operations which are assigned to the compass in the
school-room.

Tin regular course embraces six years, but can be extended both in
subjects and time should the parents desire or the pupil be qualified.
The ordinary course consists of General Astronomy, Chemistry. Botany.
Mat hematic*.. Natural Philosophy, Geography, and Drawing.— all taught
with accuracy by a strict analysis of real object^, as tar as attainable.
Pupils are al'l taught to swim in summer and skate in winter, and their
propensities to mechanics or gardening are encouraged, the fullest oppor-
tunities being given to unfold their faculties in such work.

The boys come to town occasionally, but what is not very usual, they
are glad to go back to school again, the town being of less interest to
them than their home and school life in the country. '

The terms are $200, which include tuition, board, washing, and every
attention to health and happiness.

Before opening his school, Neef published in 1808, a Sketch of a
Plan and Method of Education, founded on an Analysis of the Human
Faculties and Natural Reason suitable for the offspring of a Free People.
At the date of this publication, Neef had not yet attained such mastery
of English as to justify his publishing his views of Education (which
are, however, strictly Pestalozzian,) in that language. In 181 •} he
issued a second volume on Language, which met with less favor than
the first; on the whole Neef did not achieve very brilliant results in
Philadelphia, nor was he very widely known in his new field of labor
in Lexington, Kentucky, where he conducted the "Pestalozzian De-
partment " (the Primary and English students) in the Eclectic Institute,
•established by Rev. B. O. Peers in 1830. In both instances the school
was not so situated as to admit of being freely visited, and its peculiar
merits much written about in the press. Neef died in Lexington in 1835.

Dr. Keagy (John M.), a teacher in Harrisburg and Philadelphia from
1826 to 1836, was far more successful in his school manuals, and in
public meetings of teachers, in commending the Pestalozzian system of
Object Teaching to the people of Pennsylvania.

PESTALOZZIAXISM IN THE UNITED STATES. 395

THE ACADEMICIAN — 1819.

In 1819 we find several elaborate and extended notices in the
Academician, edited by Messrs. Albert and John Picket of New
York. In Number 14, for January, there appears an article on
Pestalozzi's " Method of teaching Religious and Moral Principles
to Children:'

Pestalozzi, in the first place, by questions adapted to the tender age of
the pupil, endeavored to ascertain whether any idea existed in his mind
upon the subject to which he wished to direct his attention; and from any
one clear idea of which he found the child in possession he led him on,
by a series of questions, to the acquirement of such other ideas as were
most intimately connected with that primary conception. Thus, for
example, suppose that he found in the child an idea of the existence of a
being whom he called God. He, instead of teaching him to repeat by rote
the notions communicated by divine revelation on what constitutes the
ba<is of all religious principle, proceeded by questioning him to direct his
attention to such of the evidences of the divine power, wisdom, and good-
ness as were immediately within reach of his perceptions, concerning the
unbounded love and all-directing providence of the Supreme Being. Clear
ideas were in this manner obtained ; and thus the infant mind was led at
an early period to objects which cannot at any period of life be con-
templated without producing corresponding emotions of reverence, grati-
tude, love, and veneration.

Having thus prepared the heart for obeying "the first great command-
ment," he, by leading to a consideration of the omnipresence of Deity,
rendered the impression deep and permanent. It was thus that Pestalozzi
laid the foundation for the belief and practice of the doctrines and duties
of Christianity, when the faculties of the understanding should be suf-
ficiently ripened for comprehending the importance of the truths that
have been revealed. It was on the same principle, and by the same
method of instruction, that Pestalozzi inspired his pupils with correct
notions of justice, probity, and benevolence. The duty of doing to others
as they would have others in like cases do to them, appeared, as it were,
a discovery of their own, a truth demonstrated and unquestionable. Led
also in the same manner to a perception of the utility of order, they
became conscious of the necessity of adhering strictly to the rules and
forms of discipline, essential to the preservation of that order of which
they felt the benefit and advantage. Instructed, and in a manner com-
pelled to think and to examine the motives of their conduct, they learned
to set a value on self -approbation, confirmed by the approbation of those
in whose wisdom they placed confidence.

We may easily believe, that when the moral feelings have been rendered
thus susceptible, the dread of losing the esteem of a revered instructor
would impose a restraint more powerful than is imposed by terror of pun-
ishment.

A few particular methods, judiciously planned, and carefully practiced,
may be made habitually to exert the minds of youth in the acquirement
of clear and accurate notions concerning all the objects of perception
which can be brought within reach of their observation; and thus their
mental powers, instead of being suffered to remain dormant, will be grad-
ually developed and improved, and rendered capable of being exerted on
other objects.

The principle adopted and adhered to by Pestalozzi is in its nature
universal and may be universally applied. It is neither deep nor intri-
cate, nor beyond the comprehension of the most ordinary capacity. In a
few words, it is simply attending to the laws of nature. By these it has
been ordained that the human understanding, though it maybe generally
opened, and enabled to embrace a vast extent of knowledge, can only be
•opened gradually and by a regular scries of efforts. Pestalozzi, perceiv-

396 PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES.

ing that when one idea upon any subject had been acquired by a childv
the next in succession was no sooner presented than imbibed ; and also'
observing that when it was attempted to force upon children ideas having
no connection with any which had previously entered their minds, the
attempt proved fruitless, took the hint from nature, and wisely formed
his plan in conformity to hers. Instead of making children repeat words
that suggested ideas to his own mind, he set himself to observe what were
the ideas that actually existed in theirs.* He then, by questions adapted
to their capacities, induced them to make such further exertion of their
powers as enabled them to add new ideas to their slender stock, and by
persevering in the process, expanded their faculties to a degree, which, to
those best qualified to judge of the difficulties of the abstruse sciences he-
professed to teach, seemed little short of miraculous.

The means employed by Pestalozzi to improve the heart and dispo-
sitions, are extremely simple and extremely obvious, yet, simple as they
are, and infallible as is their operation, many and obstinate are the preju-
dices that must be surmounted ere we can expect to see them generally
adopted. The effect resulting from them, as exemplified in the school of
morality, is what has been termed by our old divines, the practice of tJie
presence of God. Other children are taught to say that God is ever pres-
ent: but the pupils of Pestalozzi are taught to know and to feel in their
hearts that " in God they live and move and have their being. " This con-
viction is impressed and riveted in their minds, so as never to be for a
single moment obscured, nor does this belief produce in them the slavish
fear which so naturally leads to a gloomy superstition; neither does it

Eroduce any tendency to that enthusiasm which expends its fires in the
jrvid and useless blaze of ecstacy. It is productive simply of the feel-
ings of reverence and gratitude and love, accompanied by the sense of the
divine protection which inspires courage and confidence, and that ardent
desire of divine approbation which leads to the practice of every virtue.

A NATIVE OP CLINTON COUNTY.

In the Academician for February 13, 1819, "A Native of din?
ton County" N. Y., begins a series of articles on Pestalozzi in
thcss words:

MESSRS. A. & J. W. PICKET:

In your fourteenth number, there appeared a very brief view of the
method of instruction devised by Pestalozzi. I have in my possession a
very ample account of the Institute at Yverdun, by M. Jullien, printed in
the French language, at Milan, in 1812. I have also a work on the sub-
ject in Spanish, entitled Exposition del metodo Elemental de Henrique Pes-
talozzi, &c.,por Chavannes, 1807. I possess also about twenty volumes of
the different books of instruction in that method, in the German language;
the method pervading all parts of Germany; and a book of instruction
has just fallen into my hands entitled Pestalozzi' s Intuitive Relations of
Numbers. Part 1, which has been translated from the German or French
into English, and printed as the following will show: "Dublin: sold by
Martin Keene, bookseller, College Green; Thomas Bower, No. 67 Lower
Gardiner street; and at the Committee-House for Charitable Societies,
No. 16 Upper Sack vine-street, 1817."

, My purpose in noticing those books is with the double view of exciting
attention to the most efficient method of education that human genius has.
hitherto devised; and to show that a method of education scarcely known
in this country has spread over Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, obtained
great attention in France, found patronage even in Spain, and has found

"This remark ought to claim the serious attention of every person concerned in the
development of the infant mind. The flash of light thrown upon the subject is sufficient
to dispel the darkness that hovers over most places of instruction in our country; but as
the light begins to prevail, our schools are becoming better.

PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED bTATES. 397

regard in Ireland, so as to become an object of concern to charitable
foundation.

The sketch which you have given is corroborated by the work of
Jullien, vol. 1, p. 107, and vol. 2, p. 305. Having had some opportuni-
ties to form opinions upon the efficiency and unequaled effect on the
tender minds of young persons between six and sixteen years old, I am
induced to invite your attention to it at this time, when there is at least an
avowal of the necessity of some system adapted to teach to youth the
rudiments of necessary knowledge in a comprehensive and effectual
manner.

The peculiar characters of the method of Pestalozzi are simplicity and
truth. Simplicity in the mode of inducing the mind to be instructed, to
seek for knowledge, and to make the impression on the mind truly, and
not ambiguously nor imperfectly. Whatever is thus inculcated is no
longer necessary to be repeated, it becomes an indestructible part of the
stock of rational ideas, which fade only with the decay of life.

Connected with those principles of simplicity and truth are the modes
and means by which the business of education is insensibly prosecuted
without any restraints or vexations or force; knowledge is acquired by
means which assure the appearance and carry all the gratification of rec-
reation. In a word, the mind is led without perceiving the delicate film
which is proved to be competent to conduct it ; the health is preserved by
the exercises which enter into the modes of instruction, and the constitu-
tion is at the same time strengthened, while the mind is enlarged, and the
temper secured in habitual contentedness and cheerfulness.

This general view of the method does not depend on the authority of
books; it is the fruit of my own observation and experience when I had a
tender interest in two of the innocent pupils who derived benefits there-
from which wTill continue during their lives, and which I regret that
peculiar circumstances did not permit them to pursue up to a complete
course.

In the particular branches of instruction, the eye and ear and tongue of
the pupil are all engaged in a manner adapted to each subject, and sev-
eral subjects follow in an unperceived order, adapted each to sustain
either some previous study or to prepare for that which is to come. The
usual lessons, if so they may be called, for children of five or seven years
old, are the knowledge of the names of the members and parts of the
individual. A work especially adapted to this first class of instruction,
and called The Mother's Book, is published ; it forms a part of the tuition
of the school, because, although mothers usually teach their children to
know their right hand from their left; and their fingers from their
thumbs ; yet even this mother-taught knowledge is itself defective, and
men grow in years frequently without the knowledge of the proper names
of any other parts of their bodies, unless some professional pursuit ren-
ders the acquisition indispensable. When mothers shall have obtained the
accurate knowledge of the book that bears this title, of course it will no
longer be necessary in the school.

Associated, but by succession, with the knowledge of the person, is the
knowledge of interior forms or objects; those which present themselves to
the sight, which makes an impression on that sense, but which require to
be analyzed to render the impression distinct and discrimination durable.
This method is here manifested in all its perfectness and beauty, — and the
latent sparks of intellect are drawn forth with an effect that produces, in
the pleasures of an hour, principles of knowledge which employ the labor
and study of years. Erroneous ideas are barred out by the prepossession
of intellectual light and truth. Thus, for example, if the objects to be
seen are trees, houses, rocks, or animals, how are those different objects so
discriminated from each other as to assign to each its proper name. By a
question, this is soon brought forth. It is discovered that every object
has a$ form ; and another question discovers that all forms have an exte-
rior line and that this line compared with the exterior line of another
object is the first sensible difference. It is discovered that houses are

39 i PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES.

composed in their exterior forms of straight lines, generally; that rocks-
are composed of mixed lines; and that animals, besides being of different
forms, have also the principle of life, of which care is taken to prepare
the mind, further notice will be taken.

These exercises produce new questions on other visible properties of
objects — among these are colors, and lights and shade are touched upon ;
heights, extension, and magnitudes, grow out of these inquiries; and
curiosity leads the teacher to try his hand at describing some object, by
lines on a slate or prepared board; many castles are built in the air and
as speedily demolished; trees are described, and it becomes necessary to
discriminate the difference between kinds of trees, for the same kind of
lines will not describe the oak and the pine; and to discover other peculi-
arities affords an occasion for a ramble in the fields, when the first impres-
sions of natural history are made, by comparing plants, leaves, bark,
brambles, etc. The first elements of geology are formed in those unpre-
meditated walks or sport of innocent pastime ; insects and fish are intro-
duced to the mind by inquiries suited to the state of the little philoso-
phers' knowledge.

But it is after the return from those rambles that the hand is led to
trace the impressions of the mind, and to discover that practice is neces-
sary to the production of lines of any form at will. The fundamental
principles of geometry commence their initiatory course at that moment
when it is perceived that lines have proportional lengths in symmetrical
bodies, and that it is necessary even to describe in oral language the
length, the direction, or inclination or position of aline. The exercises
on the principle of forms is begun by drawing a line of an inch in length,
and this leads to the proportional quantities of all measures.

Should this unpremeditated sketch be deemed of any use, and that a
continuation will be acceptable, you shall hear from me again.

A NATIVE OF CLINTON COUNTY.

In the succeeding numbers (for March, p. 263; April, p. 283;
May, p. 295; June, p. 312; July, p. 327; September, p. 345)
under the general title of "Pestalozzi." different aspects of his
system are very clearly presented. In one of the last of the series?
No. 6, for July 10, 1810, the author adds:

1 possess more than thirty volumes in the German language, containing
the details of the instruction, which I would cheerfully give to any insti-
tution or publisher, upon the condition that they should be translated,
printed, and published. And the gift would be a free offering, nor do I
wish to be known in so doing, my only interest in obtaining those works
from Europe being to promote knowledge, without any view to pecuniary
advantage.

I notice the extent of the publications, for these reasons: first, to show
that where so many works have already been published, that the method
must have made very considerable progress; secondly, to show how inad-
equate a few essays must be to convey a complete idea of the method in
all its details; but there is also a third reason, which is to take the oppor-
tunity of explaining why it is necessary that the details should be so
minute.

As was exemplified in the case of Plato, who dismissed a hearer because
the want of a knowledge of geometry disqualified him from comprehend-
ing his lectures, the defective methods, or want of all method in other
modes of education, require to be supplied in a method which does not per-
mit any progression of a pupil from one study or one bench to another until
he actually understands the immediate study of the class, in which he has
been at exercise. It may appear at first sight that the voluminous course
of thirty volumes renders the labor of the pupil more excessive than the
system of common education, which, commencing with grammar and tlic
reading of Virgil, and in arithmetic with the ordinary'treatises and the

PESTALOZZIANI^M IN THE UNITED STATES. 399

elementary mathematics of the colleges, do not exceed eight or ten books
in each department. But the modes of practice by the master, the labor
of getting by rote, the examinations, the exercises in false and in correct
grammar, parsing, etc. , are not taken into the estimate of this comparison ;
but, if all these exercises of the common mode were written down, and
the' hours duly registered, employed by the pupil after the usual hours of
school, it would be found that fifty volumes would not contain them.
But in the works of the method of Pestalozzi, besides that there is no
acquiring lessons by mere rote, the whole of the knowledge which educa-
tion is intended to convey is taught in the actual exercises in which the
voice, the eye, the ear, and the head, are all brought into action, and the
understanding, the analytic faculty, is publicly exercised in the develop-
ment of the most minute properties and nature of things; grammar, for
example, is not acquired by getting by heart, as it is called, a given num-
ber of lines of Ruddiman's or Murray's grammar; the study of grammar
by the Pestalozzian method is an oral analysis and determination of the
classes to which words belong; the nature of the classification, its pur-
pose, and even, where there are various opinions or classification of terms,
the nature of those distinctions are investigated and referred to the nature
and signification of words as the medium of communication between
minds.

PROFESSOR GRISCOM.

IN 1818 and 1819, Prof. John Griscom* spent a year in the
most industrious and thoughtful inspection of schools, colleges,
and charitable institutions of Great Britain, France, Switzerland,
Italy, and Holland, and published an account of the same in two
volumes under the title of a " Year in Europe.''1 No one volume
in the first half of the nineteenth century had so wide an influ-
ence on the development of our educational, reformatory, and
preventive measures, directly and indirectly, as this.

VISIT TO YVERDUN IN OCTOBER, 1818.

Breakfast finished, our first and chief concern here was to visit the cel-
ebrated institute of Pestalozzi. This establishment occupies a large castle,
the use of which was granted to Pestalozzi by the canton of Berne, when
the town of Yverdun was included in that canton, and the government
of the Pays de Vaud, to which it now belongs, continues the grant. On
entering the castle, we were invited into a private room. I gave my let-
ters to the person in attendance, who took them immediately to the chief.
The good old man soon came in, seized me warmly by the hand, and, see-
ing my hat on my head, he pointed to it in a sort of ecstacy, with his
eyes almost filled with tears. I hardly knew how to interpret this emo-
tion, and asked him if he wished me to take it off. He answered very
earnestly, " No, no, no, keep it on, you are right." He seemed very glad
to see us, and as he speaks French very imperfectly, and with an indis-
tinct accent, he said he would call Monsieur Greaves to talk with us.
This gentleman soon came and entered immediately into a detail of the
institution, its principles, its spirit, its arrangement, etc. He is an Eng-
lishman, and, as I found upon inquiry, brother to the lady whom I had
seen at Lausanne. He has been some weeks with Pestalozzi, for the
purpose of understanding his system thoroughly, in order to aid a sister
in England in the education of her children. He enters warmly into its
concerns, and will be useful in making it better known. He explained to
us very clearly the leading ideas and views of human nature, which

* For memoir of Prof. Griscom's long and useful educational career, see Barnard's.
American Journal of Education, Vol. VIII, 324-347.

400 PESTALOZZI AN I <M IX THE UNITED STATES.

induced Pestalozzi to become an instructor of youth. The two ereat
instruments with which he works are faith and love. He discards the
motives of ambition and emulation as unnecessary, and as tending to
counteract the sentiment of good-will toward others. He thinks there is
enough in the intuitive understanding of every chiM to accomplish the
complete growth and maturity of its faculties* if its reason be properly
trained and nourished, and not warped by injudicious treatment. The
common plans of education he regards as too artificial, too wide a depart-
ure from nature. Too much stress is laid upon the memory, while the
imagination is too much neglected. If the native feelings of the heart are
allowed to operate, under the dominion of the native powers of the mind.
drawn out and expanded by faith and love, the child is competent of itself
to arrive gradually at the" most correct and important conclusions in
religion and science. There is a native and inherent life, which only
requires to be cherished by genial treatment, to bring it into the full
attainment of truth, and to the utmost perfection of its being. He there-
fore insists upon the greatest pains being taken to draw out this native
life and to preserve it in full vigor. There is a constant danger of urging
the child forward beyond its natural strength, of anticipating its concliT-
sions and thus weakening its confidence in its own powers. In the plans
he adopts nothing is to be got by heart. The understanding is to be
thoroughly reached, and then the memory will take care of itself.

His school consists at present of about ninety boys, German, Prussian,
French, Swiss, Italian, Spanish, and English. It* is divided into four
principal classes, according to the attainments of the pupils. These
classes are subdivided into others. There are seven school-rooms in the
castle, and twelve teachers or professors. His head professor, Joseph
Schmidt, has been brought up in the institution, and is a very efficient
and worthy man. He is a native of one of the German cantons, and
speaks and writes perfectly the German and French. He is a man of
modest demeanor and entirely devoted to the institution. He has written
treatises on several of the subjects taught in the school, and adapted to its
methods.

-pent most of the day in the different school-rooms, witnessing the
exercises of the scholars. Very few books are used, as it is expected the
children can read well before they come there. But to describe the modes
of teaching, so as to render them clearly intelligible, would require much
more time and space than I can possibly allot to it, were I ever so com-
petent to make it known. We saw the exercises of arithmetic, writing,
drawing, mathematics, lessons in music and gymnastics, something of
geography, French, Latin, and German. To teach a school in the way
practiced* here, without book, and almost entirely by verbal instruction,
is extremely laborious. The teacher must be constantlv with the child,
always talking, questioning, explaining, and repeating. The pupils, how-
ever,* by this process, are brought into very close intimacy with the
instructor. Their capacities, all their faculties and propensities, become
laid open to his observation. This gives him an advantage which cannot
possibly be gained in the ordinary way in which schools are generally
taught. The children look well, appear very contented, and appai
live in great harmony one with another; which, considering the div
of national character and temper here collected, can be attributed only to
the spirit of love and affection which sways the breast of the principal
of the institution, and extends its benign Influence throughout all the
departments. In the afternoon we went with Pestalozzi, Greaves, and
Bucholz, a German clergyman (who is here on a visit to the institution), and
one or two others, to visit a free school of twelve or fourteen children which
Pestalozzi has established in the village of Clendy, at a short distance
from the castle. These are children taken from the families of pooi
pie, selected on account of their character and talents, in order to be edu-
cated as teachers, with a view to extend and perpetuate the principles and
operation of the system. One-half of them are bo1 •- and the other half
girls. Their principal instructor is a sister of Schmi it, the chief m

PESTALOZZIAXISM IN* THE UNITED STATES. 401

«n exceeding clever and interesting young woman. She has another si^er
also with her. younger than herself, who will soon become qualified to
:i> an instructor. These pupils were exercised before us, in drawing.
in arithmetic, and in music. The girls, seated round a table, and busy
with their needles, had questions iu arithmetic given them by the mistress,
which they were to solve by their heads. They are thus led on from the
most simple beginnings to "comprehend the principles of arithmetic, and
to work questions with great expertness, solely by a mental process. A
male teacher is provided for the boys, though the mistress often assists in
the instruction. This little school promises to be well cared for, and of
ice to the Pestalozzian cause. We were much pleased with its appear-
a rice, and with the assurance it affords, that whatever there is of value and
importance in this system will not be lost.

The success of this mode of instruction, greatly depends on the per-
sonal qualifications of those who undertake to conduct it. There is nothing
of mechanism in it. as in the Lancasterian plan ; no laying down of precise
rules for managing classes, etc. It is all mind and feeling. Its arrange-
ments must always depend on the ages, talents, and tempers of the schol-
ars, and require, on the part of the teachers the most diligent and faithful
attention. Above all. it requires that the teacher should "consider himself
as the father and bosom friend of his pupils, and to be animated with the
most affectionate desires for their good. Pestalozzi himself is all this,
His heart glows with such a spirit that the good old man can hardly
refrain from bestowing kisses on all with whom he is concerned. He
holds out his hands to his pupils on every occasion, and they love him as
a child loves its mother. His plan of teaching is just fit for the domestic
th\ >ide. with a father or mother in the center, and a circle of happy chil-
dren around them. He is aware of this, and wishes to extend the knowl-
edge of his plan to every parent. Pestalozzi is seventy-two years of age,
It has been quite unfortunate for the progress of his system on the con-
tinent, that he pays so little attention to exteriors, repmiinsr dress, furni-
ture, etc.. as of no moment, provided the mind and heart be right.

The weather continuing wi-t. we resolved to wait till the morrow, and
take the diligence to Lausanne and Geneva, Much of the day was spent
at the castle, in the school-rooms, and in conversation with Greaves. I
omitted to mention that we attended, last evening, to the religious exercise
which terminates the business of the day. The scholars assembled in
•a room called the chapel, but very simply furnished with benches and
•a table. When all wire collected. Pestalozzi, directing his face chiefly
to the boys, began to speak in German, moving about, from side to -
directing his attention for some time to the boys on his right and then
advancing toward those on his left. This motion. backward*and forward.
continued about twenty minutes; he was constantly speaking, and some-
times \\ith considerable earnestness. It was altogether unintelligible to
me. but I afterward learned that it consisted of a recapitulation of the
occunvnees of the day. noticing particularly everything of moment, and
intermingling the whole with short prayers. "adapted loathe eireumst;
mentioned in the discourse. If. for example, any of the boys had quar-
reled or behaved unseemly to each other, or to their teacher, he would
speak to the ca>c. and accompany his remarks with a pious ejaculation,
It is probable that he sometimes* engai vrmally in this exercise,

V- it was. it appeared to gain the whole attention of his audience. It
•was concluded by reading from a small book what appeared to be a hymn
.T psalm.

A mpany of English visitors attended at the castle to-day, consisting
of men and women. The boys performed some of their siymnastie i
eises before them, consisting chieflv of simple but simultaneous move-
ments of the arms. legs. feet. head. etc.. stepping, marching, turning,
and jumping, all intended to exercise the various muscles which give
motion to the limbs and head, and to make the boys acquainted with the
elements of all those movements. This exercise took place in one of the
larsrc bedrooms. We attended, bv invitation. la>: I lecture given

402 PESTALOZZIANISM IN THE UNITED STATES.

by Schmidt, the head teacher, to a number of young men, among whom
were four Russians, sent by the Emperor, to gain information in England
and other countries relative to the best modes of teaching. They had
been in England, and spoke our language tolerably well. The lectures
are to illustrate more fully the principles and processes adopted in the
Pestalozzian institution.

We had the company, this evening, at our lodgings, of Frederick
Bucholz, who was lately a chaplain to the king's German legion in Eng-
land. He had been some time with Pestalozzi, and was able to give us
more information with respect to some parts of the system than we could
obtain by a short visit to the school itself.

We have had at our table d'hote, during the last two days, ten or twelve
boys, with their three preceptors, constituting a boarding-school at Geneva.
They are on an excursion round the lake of Geneva, taking Yverdun in
the way. They came to this place on foot, through the rain, and intended
to perform the whole journey on foot; but the weather continuing very
wet, they went off this morning in carriages. One of them is a young
prince of Wirtemburg, about twelve years of age, of plain juvenile man-
ners, no extraordinary talent, but apparently of an amiable temper.

We left Yverdun in the diligence, after going again to the castle, and
taking leave of some of the professors. Pestalozzi was not in ; he had
been to see us at the inn, but missed of us. Before we set off, however,
the good old man came down again, and parted with us very affection-
ately. In the course of two days which we have spent at the castle he
several times pressed my hand to his lips, and seemed to possess all the
love and fervency of a true disciple in the cause in which he is engaged.
If his personal talents, address, and management were equal either to his
genius or his zeal, his influence would have been much greater even than
it has been. Nevertheless, the period of his life and labors will, I fully
believe, be hereafter regarded as a most important epoch in the history of
education. When his principles come to be more generally understood,
they will be found to contain much that is extremely valuable. It is to
be feared, however, that many years will still elapse before the world is
put in possession of a complete explanatory view of his whole system.
He does not himself possess the faculty (as Bucholz informed me) of
explaining in familiar and intelligible terms his own principles. He con-
ceives with wonderful acuteness, and expresses himself in language of
extraordinary force and energy; but it requires a deep and steady atten-
tion to be able to embrace his whole meaning. He has published* largely
in explanation and in support of his plans of instruction; but there is so<
much of vernacular pith — of idiomatic force and peculiarity in his style
and manner, as to render it rather difficult to read him, and still more so
to translate his writings. He is now, however, anxious to have all his works
translated into English, fully believing that the merit of his plans will be
better understood, and his principles more industriously supported, by the
English nation than by his own people. His career has been maVked
with perplexities. He has had to struggle intensely against poverty, neg-
lect, prejudice, and gross misrepresentation; but his patience, his meek
ness, his perseverance, his ardent love of his fellow-creatures, have borne
him through all his trials; and notwithstanding his advanced age the
reputation of his school is now as high, if not higher, than it ever has
been. Toward those who have generously contributed to aid him in his
pecuniary difficulties his heart glows with the liveliest gratitude. Of
two of my acquaintances, one of London, and the other of Philadelphia,
who had thus befriended him, he could not speak without emotion.

Prof. Griscom, in his account of Fellenberg's Institution at
Hofwyl, and particularly of the School of "Wehrli, remarks, that
Pestalozzi's methods of instruction were followed in both.

PRIMARY INSTRUCTION BY OBJECT LESSONS

REPORT OF COMMITTEE ON THE PRIMARY SCHOOLS

OF THE CITY OF OSWEGO, IN NEW YORK.

THE Committee selected by the Board of Education of the
city of Oswego to attend an examination of the primary schools
of that city, held on the llth, 12th, and 13th days of February,
1862, with special reference to an investigation of the system
of "Object Teaching" recently introduced into said schools, and
to an expression of opinion thereon, beg leave respectfully to

REPORT,

That the system in question is designed and claimed to be in
accordance with those principles so prominently exemplified by
the great Swiss educator, Henry Pestalozzi, who lived and labor-
ed during the last half of the eighteenth century. Of him the
Hon. Henry Barnard justly remarks that, " Although his per-
sonal labors were confined to his native country, and their imme-
diate influence was weakened by many defects of character, stillr
his general views of education were so sound and just that they
are now adopted by teachers who never read a word of his life
or writings, and by many who never even heard his name. They
have become the common property of teachers and educators
throughout the world."

These principles lie down deep in the nature of man. They
recognize the great truth that this nature is threefold — material,
intellectual, moral, and that it has its laws of growth and devel-
opment. Pestalozzi believed, as we believe and know, that hu-
man beings possess affections and a moral sense as well as rea-
son, and intelligence, and sensation.

NATURE OP EDUCATION.

He therefore assumed faith and love as the only true founda-
tion of a system of education. He asserts that education, in or-
der to fit man for his destination, must proceed according to nat-
ural laws ; that it should not act as an arbitrary mediator be-
tween the child and nature — between man and God — but that it
should assist the course of natural development instead of doing

40fi OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

it violence ; that it should watch and follow its progress, instead
of attempting to mark out a path agreeably to some vague pre-
conceived system. He sought to develop and strengthen the fac-
ulties of the child by a steady course of excitement to self-activ-
ity, with a limited degree of assistance to his efforts.

He aimed to discover the proper point for commencing the ed-
ucation of the young, and then to proceed in a slow and gradual,
but progressive and unbroken course from one step to another,
always waiting until the preceding steps should have a certain
degree of distinctness in the mind of the child before entering
upon the presentation of a new step.

DISTINCTIVE PRINCIPLES.

Pestalozzi believed that education in its essence consists in the
harmonious and uniform development of every faculty, so that
the body should not be in advance of the mind nor*the mind of
the body, nor should the affections be neglected; and that prompt-
itude and skill in action should, as far as possible, keep pace
with the acquisition of knowledge. He required close attention
and special reference to the individual peculiarities of each child
and of each sex, as well as to the characteristics of the people
among whom he lived, to the end that each might be educated
for that sphere of activity and usefulness to which the Creator
had destined him.

He regarded Form, Number, and Language as the essential
condition of definite and distinct knowledge, and insisted that
these elements should be taught inith the utmost simplicity, com-
prehensiveness, and mutual connection.

Pestalozzi, as well as Basedow, desired that instruction should
begin with the simple perception of external objects and their re-
lations. He wished that the art of observing should be acquired.
He thought the thing perceived of less importance than the cul-
tivation of the perceptive powers, which should enable the child
to observe completely, and to exhaust as far as possible the sub-
jects which should be brought before him. He maintained that
every subject of instruction should become an exercise of thought,
and that lessons on form, size, number, place, etc., would give
the best occasion for it.

He thought highly of arithmetic as a means of strengthening
the mind, and he also introduced Geometry into the elementary
schools, with the arts of drawing, designing, and modeling grow-
ing out of it.

REPORT OP THE COMMiTTEE.

407

He would train the hand, tlie eye, the touch, and the senses
<j*n< rally, without which there can be no high executive power
in the arts of civilized life.

He was opposed to the lifeless repetition of the rules of gram-
mar, but rather aimed at a development of the laws of language
from within — at a knowledge of its internal nature, structure,
and peculiar spirit — thus affording the means not only for culti-
vating the intellect, but for improving and elevating the affec-
tions. He, as well as other educators of his time, introduced vo-
cal music into the circle of school studies on account of its pow-
erful influence upon the heart. Not satisfied with singing by
rote, he included in his course of instruction the elementary prin-
ciples of music — Rhythm, Melody, and Dynamics.

He discouraged that abuse of the Socratic method which at-
tempted to draw something out of children before they had re-
ceived any knowledge ; but, on the contrary, recommended in
the earliest periods of instruction the established method of dic-
tation by the teacher and reproduction by the pupil.
I Pestalozzi strongly repudiated the opinion that religious in-
struction should be exclusively addressed to the understanding.
He showed that religion lies deep in the hearts of men, and that
it should not be so much enstamped from without as developed
from within ; that the basis of religious emotion is to be found
in the ch ildish disposition to love, to gratitude, to veneration, to
obedience and confidence toward parents ; that these feelings
should be cultivated, strengthened, and directed toward God ;
and that religion should be formally treated of, at a later period,
in connection with the feelings thus excited. As he required the
mother to direct the first development of all the faculties of her
child, he assigned to her especially the task of first cultivating
the religious feelings. He thought that mutual affection ought
to reign between the educator and the pupil, whether at the home
or school, in order to render education effectual and useful. He
was not, therefore, disposed to uphold school despotism, nor did
he approve of special incentives addressed to emulation, prefer-
ring that the children should be taught to find their own highest
and best reward in the delights of knowledge and in the con-
sciousness of duty done.

THESE PRINCIPLES WORTHY OF ATTENTION'.

Such were the leading views and principles of this truly great
man ; and, with all the faults in their practical application by

408 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

himself in the eccentricity of his character, they are eminently
worthy of the profound study alike of tin- parent, the teachei^
the philanthropist, and the Christian. They constitute unques-
tionably the germs of that great system of means for the com-
plete evolution of the varied and complex forces of our common
nature which is to be — perchance which already is.

NATURAL ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT OF THE FACULTIES.

The Committee believe that these principles seem to imply the
existence of a great comprehensive law or order of development
of the human faculties, together with a corresponding order of
succession and adaptation in the scheme of truth which must
constitute the objects to which these expanding faculties must
address themselves as the inexorable condition of their develop-
ment and growth. Without stopping to argue this proposition,,
but desiring merely to suggest it, the Committee commend it to
the profound consideration of their educational brethren every
where. If this proposition be true, it lies at the basis of all ed-
ucational inquiry, while its complete elucidation will essentially
determine the character of all proper educational courses and
methods of procedure.

What the character of the primary school should be, what its
subjects and methods of instruction, depends upon the prelimi-
nary questions :

What is the character and destiny of the beings to be trained
therein ? What is the condition of their physical, mental, and
emotional powers? and what kind of studies, what description
of knowledge, what exercises are best suited to meet the wants
and exigencies of their present, while having reference, also, to
their future condition and circumstances?

SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.

The Committee believe it to be the generally received opinion
that, in childhood, all positive knowledge comes through sensa-
tion and perception. Sensation arises from the contact of our
senses with the outer material world. Perception is the refer-
ence of a sensation to its cause. Sensations lead, through ob-
servations, to conceptions. Conceptions form the basis of our
reasoning, and, through reason, we are led to discover our rela-
tions to the material world, to our fellow-men, and to the Cre-
ator ; and, finally, the will, as the executive power, enables us to
act according to the dictates of reason, of conscience, and of duty.

KKIOUT OF Tin: COMMIT m:. 499,

We- li:i\ f thus hinted at what many believe to be the natural
order of evolution of the faculties:

1st. Perception through sensation.

2d. Conception through observation.

3d. Reasoning upon the basis of our conceptions, ascending
from the concrete to the abstract, from the simple to the com-
plex, from the known to the unknown.

4th. Volition, according to the conclusion reached by reason,
acting in harmony with the conscience and the nobler emotions
and impulses of our nature.

TRUE ORDER OF STUDIES.

Is there now an order of succession of studies, or of the sci-
ences, corresponding to the order of evolution of the faculties ?
This has been conclusively shown, we think, by President Hill,
Professor Joseph Le Conte, and others, and endorsed by the
highest scientific and literary authorities of the age. The ques-
tion may be determined from at least three different stand-points :

1st. From the history of the rise and progress of knowledge
among men.

2d. From a careful examination of the relations, connections,
and dependencies of the different special sciences to each other.

3d. From an investigation of the adaptations of the different
sciences to the progressive wants of the faculties in every stage-
of their development.

All these fields have been explored by able men, and, from
whichever stand-point the investigation proceeds, the conclusions
reached are essentially the same, and they seem strikingly to
confirm each other. Without going farther into this question,
it may be remarked that, while the perceptive faculties are the
earliest to manifest themselves in the order of time, so those sci-
ences which address themselves the most directly to these fac-
ulties, to wit, those which deal with ideas of space, form, size,
number, place, weight, color, etc., are the simplest of all, lie at
the basis of all, and are best adapted of all, as experience and
reason alike show, to meet the demands of these early stages in
the education of the young.

LAWS OF CHILDHOOD.

In childhood, all is activity ; the senses are keenly alive to ev-
ery impression made upon them ; the spirit of inquiry is awake,
and runs abroad in every direction in search of knowledge ; the

410 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

perceptive powers are at work — they must be directed, and, if
possible, sharpened ; the imagination riots wildly in childish
dreams — it must be chastened and corrected by deliberate and
:sober appeals to facts, to actual things, and thus gradually en-
ticed to its appropriate work of aiding in the formation of cor-
rect conceptions ; the affections are fresh and warm ; the confid-
ing innocent desires to live and move in an atmosphere of kind-
ness and love ; the bodily powers, though comparatively weak,
are restless, and ever panting for wholesome employment.

THE TRUE EDUCATIONAL METHOD.

The question is, How are these conditions, so perfectly normal,
to be met? How shall the development of the child, heretofore
assisted by Nature's own method, be continued and perfected?
How shall his young nature, leaping and bounding in joyousness
and love, reveling in the pleasure of knowledge, be preserved in
its freshness, and vigor, and purity ? Not, surely, by forced and
unmeaning strifes with mere words and phrases, not by the me-
chanical drudgery of loading the memory with dry formulas and
senseless rules, not by the mastication of rudimental books, nor
by those endless stripes which have no healing power.

This question, in the opinion of .the Committee, can be solved
only by efforts in the direction to which these suggestions tend.
Our subjects and methods of instruction must be naturalized.
* The course of true education is the course of nature. Man's
method, to be effective, must follow God's method." As surely
as our Divine Father has a plan in creation, so surely has he also
a plan in education. By the light of history and revelation we
see how he is guiding, instructing, educating the human race
through the ages. Aided by the experiences, the discoveries,
the inventions, the sufferings, the reverses of past generations,
we have become exalted to Heaven in respect to our rights, our
privileges, and blessings.

So children should be taught, as far as possible, by their own
actual experience, and not so much by mere dicta, not so much
by taking on trust what others say, and write, and print, but by
more frequent and persistent intercourse, or experience, if you
please, with those objects, qualities, and properties, the existence
of which gives to language so much of its force and utility.

The Committee have thought it due, alike to the occasion
which has called them together, as well as to the important move-
ment which has here been inaugurated, to give expression some-

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 4^

what at length to the foregoing views. They are too well aware
•of the obstacles which nearly every new enterprise, however no-
ble, is doomed to encounter, not to embrace an opportunity so
grave as the present to give it a substantial and hearty support.

AN IMPORTANT REVOLUTION AT HAND.

The examinations which it has been their high privilege to
witness during the present week have impressed them with the
•conviction that we are on the eve of a great and important rev-
olution in the education of our country. The system which has
been developed from the principles herein before stated is yet es-
sentially foreign. And as it was a doctrine of Pestalozzi him-
self that education, to be true, must have constant reference to
the character of the people among whom it is to be dispensed,
:so it is evident that the system which has been exhibited before
us is yet to be somewhat modified — Americanized — to meet the
peculiar characteristics of our people and country. Systems and
methods must change, " but principles are in their nature eter-
nal," says Professor Crosby ; " and it is their office to guide and
direct amid all the vicissitudes of circumstance, condition, event,
fortune." So, while adhering to the unchanging dicta of well-
grounded principle, we would joyfully accept in the system of
methods whatever is suited to our special wants, characteristics,
/and circumstances as a people.

SUCCESS OF THE EXPERIMENT AT OSWEGO.

How well the methods presented by the exhibitions from the
Oswego primary schools are adapted to carry out the theory
upon which these methods are based, the Committee have en-
deavored to give their professional brethren and fellow-citizens
at a distance the means of judging, by presenting an abstract of
each exercise, together with the precise aim of the teacher in
each case. The ages of the children, together with the grades
of the classes, will be found stated in the proper places. The
number of classes presented will also be learned by an examina-
tion of the accompanying statement. It will be observed that a
wide range of topics was developed by the classes, embracing
lessons of various grades, on Form, Size, Weight, Color, Place,
Number, Language, Objects, Plants, Animals, Shells, and includ-
ing also exercises in Phonic Reading and Gymnastics.

The Committee are also most happy in bearing testimony to
the universal fidelity of the teachers and superintendent to that

NIVERSITY

412 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

cardinal principle of Faith and Love which the great Pestalozzi
affirmed must be the basis of all true education. The evidences
of mutual kindness, respect, and affection between teachers and
taught have been too palpable to be questioned. Let these de-
voted teachers rest assured that they are laying up imperishable
treasures of future joy and gladness, alike for themselves and the
long procession of the generations which shall rise up to call
them blessed.

[Previous to commencing the exercises of the examination, the Secretary of
tlu- liourd of Education stated that the primary schools of Oswego are divided
into three classes, called A, B, and C. The C class is the lowest, B next, and
the A class the highest. The children, on entering school, are placed in the C
class, where they remain under the same teacher for one year, near the end of
which time an examination takes place, and those who are sufficiently ad-
vanced are promoted to the B class at the commencement of the succeeding
term, where they remain another year ; they are examined again, and promoted
to the A class ; toward the end of the third year they are examined for promo-
tions to the junior schools.]

EXAMINATION EXERCISES.

The first exercise witm-s>cil by the Committee was a review of the C class,
primary. Ages of children, 6 to 7 years.

LESSON ON FORM.

The children stood in a semicircular line on one side of the table, on which
were placed several of the more common solids, as a sphere, a cube, a cone, etc.
The teacher called upon the children to distinguish different solids, as the
sphere, hemisphere, cylinder, cone, and cube, and to give their names. Then,
holding up a cylinder, she asked, '' What is this called?"

Children. "A cylinder."

Teacfier. " Yes, this is a cylinder ; and when we see any object of this shape
we say it is cylindrical. Now look about the room, and see if you can see any
thing that is of this shape."

C. The stove-pipe — the post.

T. Yes ; and because the stove-pipe and the post are of this shape, we call
them—

C "Cylindrical."

In this manner the terms spherical, conical, etc., were presented to the chil-
dren.

The teacher placed a cube before the children, and requested them to name
objects of that form ; then a sphere, and to name objects of a spherical form,
etc.

Several of the solids being placed on the table, the teacher naming objects,
as orange, stick of candy, church spire, etc., the children would say which solid;
they resembled in shape.

To show that the children understood the terms face and surface, they were
requested to touch the surface of a sphere, the outside of a sphere, the faces of
a cube and of a cylinder ; then to point out the plane and curved faces of dif-
ferent solids ; then to take solids, and tell by what faces they were bounded.

RBPORT OF T1IK COMMITTEE. 4^3

The manner of conducting this exercise, and the familiarity manifested with
the subject, gave evidence that the children possessed a knowledge of it other
than that derived from the words themselves. The second exercise was a

LESSON ON SIZE.

Review of C class, primary. Ages of children, 5 to 7. They had attended
school nine months; have had instruction in size during some eight weeks,
about twenty minutes per day.

The children were requested to hold their forefingers one inch apart while
the teacher measured the space between them.

Then children were required to draw lines on the blackboard an inch in length,
and others to measure them, stating whether too long, too short, or correct.

Next they were required to tear papers an inch in length ; then to tear them
two inches in length ; then to fold them three inches in length, and so on, the
teacher measuring them meanwhile. At least two out of each three tore and
folded their papers of the exact length named.

Then the children were requested to draw lines on the blackboard one foot
in length, then to divide them into twelve inches.

They readily measured inches, and feet, and yards, both with the rule and
•with the eye, and drew lines representing them, showing that they understood
the relations of these to each other, as well as the lengths of each.

FORM AND SIZE.

Review of A class, primary. Ages of children from 7 to 9.

Teacher. Find me a solid whose surface is not divided. The children took
from the table spheres and spheroids.

Teacher. Find me a solid whose surface is divided into two parts or faces —
one divided into three faces — one divided into six faces. Now a solid with one
plane and one curved face.

In each case the children selected the correct object.

The teacher then called upon one pupil to draw upon the blackboard the
plane face of a square two inches on a side ; another one of a square six inches
on a side ; another of a rhomb two inches on each side ; an equal triangle one
inch on a side ; a plane face of a cylinder three inches in diameter ; a square
twelve inches on a side. The children then drew lines of various lengths, as
called for by members of the Committee ; also plane figures of various sizes, and,
among others, circles two feet in diameter, then of two feet in circumference.

The teacher called upon the children, one at a time, to select laths of given
lengths, and place them on the floor so as to represent the elevation of one end
of a house. Another pupil drew each part of the house on the blackboard as
it was represented by the laths.

TUESDAY AFTERNOON,

LESSON ON FORM.

Showing the transition from Form to Elementary Geometry. Review of
C class, junior. Ages of children, 9 to 12.

The children drew lines on the blackboard, and described them. They rep-
resented, and then gave definitions of a point, straight line, length, direction,
and of the distinction between different kinds of angles.

414 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

A pupil drew upon the blackboard a horizontal line, and an oblique one in^
tersecting the first, and then proceeded to demonstrate that, "if two straight
lines intersect each other, the opposite or vertical angles are equal." In giving
the demonstration, the pupils used letters to designate the lines and angles.
At the suggestion of one of the Committee, figures were substituted for the let-
ters, and one of the same pupils called to demonstrate the proposition. The
readiness with which the pupil went through with it, using figures in place of
letters, was very satisfactory to the audience, their approbation being mani-
fested by applause.

LESSON ON COLOR

Review of C class. Ages of children, 6 to 8. Object of the lesson — to culti-
vate the perception of color.

Worsted, and cards of various colors, were placed upon the table. The teach-
er called upon one child to select all the reds, and place them together; anoth-
er, to select all the yellows, and place them together ; another, the blues ; an-
other, the greens, etc.

The children were then requested to name all the red objects that they could
see in the room ; then those of the other colors successively.

Next, one child was called upon to name a color, and another to name an
object of the same color. Then one child would name an object, and another
name its color.

DISTINGUISHING SHADES AND TINTS OF BLUE.

The teacher next proceeded to give a neiu lesson to the same class, the object
of which was "to teach the children to distinguish blue, audits shades and
tints."

The teacher requested the children to find the bluest of the blue objects on,
the table. They having selected cards which the teacher pronounced correct,
she took tli" cards, told them all to close their eyes, then she placed the same
cards upon the table again among the other blue ones, and requested the chil-
dren to find them again. When they could readily select the bluest cards, the
teacher told them that the bluest blue is called the standard blue. Then the
children were exercised in finding the standard blue.

Next, two cards were held up, one dark blue and one light blue, and the chil-
dren told that the light blue is called a tint of blue, and the dark blue a shade
of blue — the tint is lighter than the standard blue, and the shade is darker than
the standard blue. Then the children were exercised in finding tints and shades
of blue.

LESSON IN MIXING COLORS.

Review of A class, primary. Children from 9 to 10 years of age.

The children were led to distinguish primary, secondary, and tertiary colors
from mixing colors. The teacher held up vials containing liquids of red, yel-
low, and blue. She then mixed some of each of the red and yellow liquids, and
the children said the color produced by the mixture is oranrjc. She then mix-
ed yellow and blue, and the children said that green had been produced. Then
she mixed blue and red, and purple was the result.

The teacher printed the result of each mixture on the blackboard thus :

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 4l$

First Colors, or Primaries. Second Colors, or .Secondaries.

Red 4- Yellow = Orange.

Blue + Yellow = Green.

Blue + Red Purple.

Next she proceeded to show how the idea and term tertiary is derived from
the secondaries by mixing the secondaries, and printing the result on the board
as before :

Secondaries. Third Colors, or Terliaries.

Green + Orange Citrine.

Orange + Purple Russet.

Purple + Green = Olive.

After the children had read over in concert what had been printed on the
board, it was erased, and the pupils were required to state from memory what
colors are produced by mixing primaries, with the names of each secondary ;
also, what by mixing the secondaries, and the name of each tertiary. An ex-
ercise on Harmony of Colors was then given to the same class of children. They
were requested to select two colors that would look well together, and place
them side by side ; then two were placed together that do not harmonize. Dur-
ing these exercises, the teacher printed on the board,

Primary yellow harmonizes with secondary purph.
" red " " " yreen.

11 blue *' orange.

This was read by the pupils, then erased, and the individuals were called
upon to state what color will harmonize with these several colors, as their
names were respectively given.

TUESDAY EVENING,

The exercises were held in Doolittle Hall, and were witnessed by a large au-
dience. First there was given a

LESSON ON OBJECTS— 5th STEP,

to the B class, junior school, the aim of which was to lead the children to dis-
tinguish acids from alkalies, and to show some of the effects of each.

A class of boys and girls were arranged upon the stage so that they could ob-
serve the vials of liquids and solids upon the table in the centre. After intro-
ductory remarks by the teacher, alluding to the classification of children in
school according to their knowledge, she requested one to arrange the vials upon
the table into classes. He placed the vials containing solids in one group, and
those containing liquids in another. The teacher remarked that, although that
was one way to classify them, yet there was a better way, and that was by tast-
ing, placing those which have a similar taste in the same class.

The children were each given some cream of tartar to taste ; they pronounced
the taste sour. The name of the substance was written on the blackboard.
Then they were given some sal soda to Taste, and they said it tasted " bitter and
burning/' The name of this was written on another part of the board. The
teacher then told the children that we called those substances which taste sour
acids, and wrote the word acids over cream of tartar. She then told them that
the name for those substances which have a "bitter, burning taste," is alkalies.

416 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

This word was written over sal soda. Then the children were given some vin-
egar to taste, and required to tell in which column its name should be written.
They gave "acids." The teacher proceeded in a similar manner with ley,
pearlash, tartaric acid, and soda, and the children designated the column in
which the word should be placed. Some oxalic acid was produced, and the
children told that it was poison, hence should not be tasted, but that it also was
sour, and requested them to name the column in which its name should be vvrit-
•ten. The words on the blackboard were written thus :

ACIDS. ALKALIES.

Cream of tartar. Sal soda.

Vinegar. Ley.

Tartaric acid. Pearlash.

Oxalic acid. Soda.

The children having learned a distinction between acids and alkalies, the
teacher produced a vegetable dye, obtained by boiling a purple or red cabbage
in water. She poured equal quantities into two glasses. Into one of these she
poured some acid, and into the other a little alkali. The children were re-
quired to observe the effects of the acid and of the alkali upon the vegetable
dye, and then to describe these effects.

Children. The acid turns the vegetable dye to a red. The alkali changes it
to a yreen.

Teacher. Now what can you say of the taste of acids?

C. They taste sour.

The teacher now wrote on the board, " Acids have a sour taste "

T. What can you say of the effect of acids upon a vegetable dye ?

C. Acids turn vegetable dyes to red.

The teacher wrote this on the board also.

T. Now what can you say of the taste of alkalies ?

C. They have a bitter, burning taste.

T. We call this bitter, burning taste of alkalies an acrid taste. What do we
call the taste of alkalies?

C. An acrid taste.

The teacher wrote on the board, "Alkalies have an acrid taste."

T. What can you say of the effect of alkalies upon vegetable dyes?

C. Alkalies change vegetable dyes to green.

This was also written on the board.

Afterward the red and green dyes were mixed, when the whole assumed its
original color. After trying similar examples with other acids and alkalies
upon the purple water or vegetable dye, the children were told that acids and
alkalies neutralize or destroy each other. The teacher then wrote on the black-
board,

Adds and alkalies, when mixed together, neutralize each other.

Next a bottle partly filled with soft water was produced, and a little soft soap
added, when it was given to the pupils to shake. Soapsuds were produced. A
few drops of acid were then added to the contents of this bottle, and on shaking
it again the suds disappeared. Then a little ley was poured into it, and on
being shaken suds were again produced. Then the children were led by an-
other experiment to perceive that acids and alkalies neutralize each other when
mixed.

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 417

A few other experiments were tried, illustrating in similar methods the proc-
es of teaching children things and ideas before the words of description are
given. Whenever the terms or words given by the pupils in describing what
they saw were inappropriate, these were corrected by the teacher.*

WEDNESDAY MORNING,

LESSON ON ANIMALS.— THE SEAL.— 3d STEP.

This was a new lesson, given to children of the average age of eight years,
from the C class, primary school. The object of the lesson was to show the
children how the parts of the animal are adapted to the habits of it.

The teacher held before the children a picture of the seal, upon land, by the
side of open water.

T. Where, in this picture, do you see the animal ?

C. On the land.

T. What do you see near it ?

C. Water.

T. Where do you think it lives ?

C. In the water.

T. Does it spend all of its time in the water?

C. No ; it spends part of its time on land.

T. What other animals live in the water ?

C. Fishes.

T. Fish breathe by taking the air from the water by means of their gills.
The water and air passes into its mouth, and the water passes out through the
gills. The seal breathes as we do, therefore he can not remain under the wa-
ter as fish do. His head must be above the water to breathe. The seal feeds
on fish. Now can you tell me why he goes into the water at all ?

C, To catch fishes for food.

The teacher now printed upon the blackboard, "The seal can live in water
and on land." This was read by the children. They now pointed out in the
picture the parts of the seal, and described their shape. In developing the idea
of round, the teacher showed the children a round and a flat object, and they
named the one which most nearly resembled the shape of the body.

In developing the idea of tapering, the children were requested to point out
the largest part of the body, and the smallest.

T. Why does the seal need a round, tapering body ?

To develop this idea, they were asked which boat would move through the
water most easily, one with a blunt end or one with a sharp end ? Their atten-
tion was then called to the small head and tapering shoulders of the seal, and
thus to its adaptation for moving through the water. The teacher then print-
ed on the board,

The body of the seal is round and tapering.
This was read by the children in concert.

A picture of a fish was now shown, and the children requested to observe its
shape. The teacher then led them to compare its organs of progressive motion

* At the close of this lesson, a paper, written by Miss Jones, of London, at present the prin-
cipal of the Training School in Oswego, was read ; also an address was delivered by N. A.
Calkins, of New York. Both of these papers may be found at the close of this report.

418 OSWBGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

with those of the seal, and to observe the adaptation of these organs to the spe-
cial purposes for which they are designed.

C. The seal lias broad, flat feet, which it uses to aid it in swimming.

This was printed on the blackboard.

T. "Why would not fins suit the seal as well as they do the fishes?

C. Because the seal could not go on land with fins.

The children were then led to compare the covering of the seal with that of
the fish, to show the adaptation of the warm fur to its mode of life. Their at-
tention was also directed to the intelligence and docility of the seal, and the
resemblance of its head, in shape, to that of the dog. His disposition was com-
pared with that of the dog; humane feelings excited by describing the manner
of hunting and killing the seals, and kindness inculcated.

As a summary, the children read what had been written on the board ; then
repeated it after it had been erased.

LESSON ON HORNS OF ANIMALS.— 4th STEP.

A class, primary. Average ages 10 years.

The object of the lesson was to give a general idea of horns, their form, po-
sition, and uses.

Children were requested to name animals having horns. Afterward the
teacher presented to them pictures of a cow, goat, and a deer, and the class
were requested to observe them carefully, and to state how their horns differ.

C. The cow's horns have no branches ; the goat's horns have no branches ;
the deer's horns have branches.

T. Look at the form of the horns.

C. The horns differ in form.

To lead the children to the idea of horns differing in position, lines were
drawn upon the blackboard in different positions. When" this idea had been
gained, their attention was directed to the position of the horns of the cow.
These were described as being placed on each side of the head, and slanting w/v
ward and outward.

The horns of the. goat were described as placed on the top of the head, and
slant upicard. and backward.

The horns of the deer are placed on the top of its head, and slant in different di-
rections. These descriptions were printed on the blackboard.

To develop the idea of the shape of the cow's horns, a pair of horns was pre-
sented, and the children requested to describe them.

C. The horns of the cow are round, large at the base, and tapering.

The teacher not having a pair of goat's horns present, pointed to the picture,
and told the children that the horns of the goat are more slender, and less
curved than those of the cow.

Deer's horns were shown, and described as spreading out like the branches
of a tree. The children were led to observe that the cow's horns are hollow,
while those of the deer are solid. They were told that the goat's horns were
also hollow ; and that, while the cow's and goat's horns were fixed, or remained
permanent upon the heads of these animals, the horns of the deer are shed ev-
en- year, new ones growing each summer.

The attention of the children was called to the uses of horns to animals as
weapons of defense, and of their uses to man in the manufacture of combs and
various other articles.

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 419

LESSON ON SHELLS— 3d STEP OF OBJECTS.

Given to a C class, primary ; ages of children 5 to 6 years.

Object of the lesson was to lead the children to observe the parts of the shell,
also to perceive the appropriateness of the names given to the parts.

The teacher, holding up a shell before the class, told them that an animal
once lived in that shell, and then asked, "What do you live in?"

Children. Houses.

T. This was the house of an animal. Now I want you to look at it, and see
if you can find different parts of this shell. James may point to some part of it.

The boy touched the small point at one end. The teacher said this part is
called the apex of the shell. Now point to the apex of this cone; of the pyra-
mid. The word apex was now printed on the blackboard.

Mary may touch some other part of the shell. She put her finger upon the
largest part, or body of it ; and the teacher said, this is called the body of the
shell, and printed the word on the board.

Pointing to the whorl on the shell, the teacher said, " Look at this ; see how
it winds around the shell ; this part looks as if it whirled around, so we call it
the ichor I." This word was also printed on the board.

The opening of the shell was pointed at, and the children asked to give it a
name. No one replied, and the teacher requested a boy to open his mouth,
and the other children to look at it, upon which several of them suggested the
word mouth as a good name for the opening of the shell. This was printed on
the board, and the children told that it is the name for that part of the shell.

Next the edges of the mouth were pointed at, and the children referred to
parts of their own mouths for a name. Lips was readily given, and printed OR
the board.

The groove leading to the mouth was pointed at, and the children told to
call it a canal. The word was then printed.

The attention of the children was directed to the lower part of the shell, con-
taining the canal, and the children asked if they had ever seen any part of a
bird that resembled it in shape. "The bird's beak," was the replv. "That
is right; and we will call this the beak of the shell," said the teacher. This
word was also printed on the board.

A child was now called to take the shell and point out the parts as the chil-
dren named them. The teacher pointed out the parts, and the children named
them.

LESSON ON SHELLS— 4th STEP OF OBJECTS.

Given to an A class, primary, ten children. Ages 8 to 10.

Object of the lesson, to show the use of shells, their formation, and general
classification.

The children were shown several shells, and asked where they are found.

Children. On the lake-shore, the sea-shore, and in rivers.

T. How arc shells obtained from the sea ?

C. The waves wash them on shore.

T. The creatures found inside of the shell are called mollusks. The word
was written on the blackboard, and the children told that it means soft. To
develop this idea, the children were directed to press their fingers upon their

420 OSWEOO KDfCATIOXAL CONVENTION.

cheeks, then upon their forehead, and to tell how they feel. They were asked
whether they had seen oysters, and how they feel; and why they feel soft?
The answer obtained was that the oyster has no bones.

T. What can we say of the oyster because it has no bones ?

C. It is boneless.

The teacher printed on the board, and the children repeated together,
Mo Husks are soft and boneless.

The children were referred to the white cold fluid or blood of the oyster, and
it was compared with their own red warm blood.

The teacher wrote on the blackboard,

The blood of the viollusk is cold and colorless,
and the children repeated it together.

The shells were given to the children to examine, and see if they could tell
of what materials they are made, and who made them. To develop the idea
of their formation, a piece of chalk was shown, and the children told that one
of the substances of which the shell is made was like that. They were asked
if a shell made of so brittle a substance would be strong. The children were
now told that the shell is made of lime which is obtained from the water, and
this is mixed with a gluey substance, which the mollusk obtains from a portion
of its own body, to stick it together. They were shown the smooth, polished
outside of the shell, and told that the mantle which covers it deposits a sub-
stance which hardens and forms the beautiful polished surface. The children
were also told how the little mollusk increases the size of its shell from year to
year, as the animal itself grows larger, by making additions on the edge of the
shell. Sometimes, when the shells are dashed against the rocks by the waves
and broken, the mollusk re j wins the broken part.

The idea that the shells arc a means of defense for the mollusk was devel-
oped, and the teacher wrote on the board,

Shells serve as a house and armor to the mo//>isl>\

and the children repeated it. Following this, the idea of God's wisdom and
goodness was presented in providing every thing so wisely for these little animals.

The teacher also gave some exercise in the classification of shells into uni-
valves, bivalves, and multivalves. And, as a summary, the pupils read from the
•blackboard,

Shelh are inhabited by animals called moflusks.

Mollusks are sq/l and boneless.

The blond of the nio/hisk /.«>• cold and colorless.

Shel/s nre cowjiosed of Ihne and a kind of nlucy substance.

Sheila serve as a house and armor to the molln>k.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON,

Exercises were held in the school-room.

LESSON ON PLACE.

A review of a C class, primary. Ages of children G to 7 years.
The Object of the lesson was to distinguish and define place, as nearer, farther,
between, to the right, to the left.

2d. To represent objects in these relations.

3d. To distinguish the cardinal and semi-cardinal points.

KU'OKT OF THE COMMITTEE. 421

First, objects were placed on a table, and the children requested to observe
the position of each, after which the teacher would remove them, and call upon
individuals to put them in the same position again. Then the position of these
objects on the table were represented by drawing on a slate held in a horizontal
position. Then the same positions were represented by drawings on the black-
board. Children were called upon to point with their fingers ; also to walk in
different directions ; also to tell in what direction they must walk to go from
their seat to some given part of the room. The teacher would name a point
of compass, and request the children to point toward it, while she would point
in some other direction. This made each pupil think and act for himself.

LESSON ON PLACE.

Given to the A Class, primary. A review. Children, average age 9 years.

An outline map of the city of Oswego was placed before the class, and the
children were required to point out the various localities, tell the distance of one
from another, the direction in which a person must go in proceeding from one
place to the other. The outline map was drawn on a scale of one foot to the
mile ; the pupils ascertained distances, after estimating by the eye, by taking
a tape measure and ascertaining the number of feet from one point to the other.

A drawing of the school-room made to a scale, previously placed upon the
blackboard, was exhibited.

Rivers, lakes, canals, dams, locks in canals, etc., were described by the pupils
in answer to questions by members of the Committee.

LESSON ON NUMBER.

A review of the C class, primary. Ages of children 6 to 7 years.

The object of this exercise was to show how addition, subtraction, and multi-
plication are worked out writh objects.

The children were arranged in front of a shelf containing pebbles in boxes
or compartments. The teacher said to the first pupil, " I will give you 1 peb-
ble ; how many must you add to it to make ten?"

To the next she said, "I will give you 3 pebbles ; how many must you add
to these to make ten ?"

To the next, "I will give you 2 pebbles; how many must you add to make
ten?"

The children would proceed to take other pebbles from the boxes, and count-
ing, add enough to make ten. As each finished the number, the hand would
be raised. When all had completed the number assigned, the teacher com-
menced by asking the first pupil, " How many did I give you ?"

Child. "One."

T. " How many did you add to make ten?"

C. "Nine."

T. (To the next pupil.) "How many did I give you?"

C. "Three."

T. " How many did you add to make ten ?"

C. "Seven."

In this manner the teacher kept all the pupils at work, and each at work on
a separate problem. Subsequently the pupils were requested to see in how
many ways they could arrange given numbers. One was to arrange the num-

422 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

ber Jive in as many ways as possible, as 4 and 1, 2 and 3, 2 and 2 and 1, 2
and 1 and I and 1, 1 and 3 and 1, etc. Another was told to arrange six, an-
other seven, another eight, in as many ways as they could with the pebbles.

The teacher gave them numbers, and then told them to take away less num-
bers, as, "1 give you 8 pebbles; take away 5, and tell me how many re-
main," etc.

The teacher having placed six marks on the board thus, j | | | | | , rub-
bed out two, and asked, " What have I done ?"

C. ''Rubbed out two marks."

T. " How many marks remain ?"

C. "Four marks."

T. " What may you say, then ?"

<?. " Tico from six leaves four."

Then seven and eight marks were treated in the same way.

Again, the teacher gave them 2 and 2 and 2, to state how many 3 twos are.
Then she asked how many are 4 twos, 2 threes, 5 twos. In each instance the
pupils represented the numbers by arranging pebbles in groups corresponding
with these numbers.

This exercise was followed by a lesson to show how children were first taught
multiplication. The teacher placed two pebbles on the table, then two more,
and asked, "How many pebbles were on the table?"

C. "Four pebbles."

The teacher then made two marks on the board, then two more, thus:
|| ||, and asked, " How many are two marks and two marks?"

C. "Four marks."

Then the teacher placed three pebbles on the table, then three more, and
asked, "How many pebbles are on the table?"

C. "Six pebbles."

She then made three marks thus, | | | | | | , and asked, " TJiree marks
and three marks are how many marks?"

C. "Six marks."

Subsequently the teacher would change the question by saying, "How many
are two times two pebbles ?" " How many are two times two marks?" etc.

LESSON ON NUMBERS.

Given to the A class, primary. Age of children 8 to 9 years.
The design of the lesson was to show the relations between addition, multi-
plication, and division.

The teacher wrote on the blackboard, and the children repeated the fol-
lowing :

3+3=6, 6-1-3=9, 9+3=12, 12+3 = 15, etc., up to 99. Then the teacher
wrote 99-3 = 96, 96-3=93, and so on down to 6-3 = 3.
Then 6 + 6 = 12, 12—6 = 2,

6 + 6 + 6 = 18, 18—6=3,

6 + 6+6 + 6=24, 24— 6=4, and so on.
The children read 6 + 6 = 12, two times 6 are 12, etc.

7 + 7 = 14, 14—7=2,

7 + 7-1-7 = 21, 21—7 = 3,

7 + 7+7 + 7 = 28, 28— 7=4, and so on to 100.

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 423

Children read 7 + 7 = 14, two times 7 are 14. 14 divided by 7 = 2.
7=21, three times 7 are 21. 21 divided by 7=3.

Such lessons as these the children placed upon their slates while at their
seats between class exercises.

LESSON ON LANGUAGE.

Given to the C class, primary. Age of children 7 to 9 years.
The children were requested to name something that is hard. They men-
tioned, and the teacher wrote on the board the following :

Coal is hard.
Wood is hard.
Gold is hard.
Iron is hard.

The teacher inquired if any one in the class could tell her how to write the
same in one sentence. Several hands were raised, and one pupil said, "Coal,
wood, gold, and iron are hard.'1 This was written upon the board.

Then the pupils were asked to tell some quality of glass. They repeated,
and the teacher wrote upon the board,

Glass is colorless.
Glass is hard.
Glass is transparent.
Glass is brittle.
Glass is smooth.

Then the pupils were requested to tell how to write these qualities in one
sentence. They said, "Glass is colorless, hard, transparent, brittle, and
smooth." This sentence was placed on the board.

LESSON ON LANGUAGE.

Given to the A class, primary. Ages 9 to 10 years.

This lesson in language was designed to teach the pupils discrimination in
the use of descriptive words.

The children were to give any term which may be used in describing a face,
and the teacher wrote them on the board as mentioned. They gave pretty,
homely, white, rosy, freckled, wrinkled, blushing, happy, bashful, sad, pale, cheer-
ful, thin, sorrowful, sour, ugly.

When a sufficient number of words had been written upon the board, the
teacher called up a pupil to mark each word that may be used to describe one
face. The first pupil marked words making the following description : "Hap-
py, thin, wrinkled, pleasant, pale, pretty, white, cheerful face."

Another marked " Ugly, freckled, homely, sour face."

When one of the pupils chanced to mark words that expressed opposite qual-
ities, as pretty, homely, cheerful, sour, the others made the correction.

THURSDAY MORNING.

The exercises of this forenoon were held in the school-room. The opening
exercise was a lesson in Moral Instruction. The teacher placed a colored en-
graving (representing Moses stretching his arm over the Red Sea, the children
of Israel crossing over on dry land, and the pillar of fire) on a stand, in view

424 08WEGO KUUU.YTluNAI. < ONVEOTIOK

of the entire school. The teacher read a simple description of this event from.
a little volume entitled "Line upon Line," then called upon several of the chil-
dren to point ont on the pieture the objects mentioned in the lesson from the
book, nlso to an>wer questions relative to the event. At the close of this exer-
cise the school arose and repeated together the Lord's Prayer. The entire ex-
ercise seemed very interesting to the children, all of whom gave strict attention,
and it was a beautiful sight to the observers.

OBJECT LESSON.— 3d STEP.

Given to the C class, primary. Children 6 to 7 years of age.

The object of the lesson was to develop one quality — the idea of maUeabMUifr
and give the term.'

The children were shown pieces of lead, and asked to say something about it.

Children. Lead is heavy. Lead is gray. Lead shines when cut. Lead is
opaque. Lead is tenacious.

The children handle the lead, passing it around. The teacher beats a piece
of lead with a hammer, and having flattened it so that it is quite thin, she
shows it to the children again. They say it lias been tlattcned. Tin- teacher
then added, ''Lead will flatten by Ix-ing Ix-atcn, and because we can flatten it
by beating it we say had is mmUeMl." The children repeat this.

Next the teacher pounded a stone, and asked if it would flatten by beating
it. She then a-ked. " N the stone malleable?"

C. Stcn.- i- not malleable.

/. Why?

C. Because we can not flatten it by beating it.

The teacher then pounded a piece of chalk, that the children might see that
we can not flatten it as we can lead, and hence that is not called malleable.
The pupils were now requested to mention other objects that are malleable.
They having named several, she inquired, ''Why are these objects said to be
malleable ?"

C. I»ecau-e we can flatten them by beating them.

The teacher and pupils then icjKiated together, Any thing that can be flattened
by beatimj it is said to be malleable.

LESSON ON ANIMALS.— THE IBIS.— 3d STEP.

Given to a C class, primary. Ages 7 to 8. The object of the lesson was to
show parts, and the adaptation of these to the habits, mode of life, etc.

The teacher held the picture of the ibis before the children, and called upon
one to come and point out some part of the bird. The child pointed to the head.

T. What can you say of the head of the ibis?

C. The ibis has a small head.

Another comes and points to the eyes, and says, "The ibis has small eyes.''
Another points to its beak, and says, "The ibis has a long, curved, tapering,
sharp beak."

T. Why do you say the beak is tapering?

C. Because it is smaller at one end than it is at the other.

The children were requested to observe the neck, and one was called to point
to it in the pieture and describe it.

C. The ibis has a long, slender neck."

KKl'..l;T «>!•• rill. i;i»MMUTEIi 425-

T. What can you say of its legs?

C. It has long slender legs.

T. Where do you think it lives?

C. In >wampy places.

T. Why?

C. Because ir has long legs.

T. Why dot-s it need a long neck ?

C. To reach down in the water and mud to pet its food.

'/" Why would not short legs do as well ?

' '. Tin- waves would wash him away.

T. Why does he have a long beak ?

(7. So it can reach its food without putting its head under the water.

OBJECT LESSON.— PEPPER.

Given to an A class, primary. Ages of children 1) to 10.

Object of the lesson to develop qualities of the object. Grains of pepper are
shown to the children. They say it is vegetable. The teacher prints on the
board, Pcftper is a vegetable.

The children say it is hard. One of them spells hard, while the teacher prints,
Pepper is hard.

After tasting it, they say, "Pepper is biting — pungent." This is printed on
the board as the children spell the words.

T. Why do you say pepper is pungent ?

C. Because it has a burning ta-

T. Can you think of any thing else that can be said of pepper ?

C. It is black. It is rough. It is spherical.

These sentences were placed on the board as the words were spelled. All-
spice was shown them, and the two compared. They said, "Pepper is rough,
and allspice is -inooth."

T. What can you say of its uses ?

C. It is used tor preserving things.

T. What els2 may be said of it ?

C. Pepper is stimulating, because it has a burning taste. It is wholesome.

T. It grows iu very warm countries, hence we say it is tropical. It does not
grow in our country, so we say it is foreign.

This was followed, as usual, with a brief summary of what had been gone
over, to fix the important points in the memory.

A CLASS FROM A COUNTRY SCHOOL INTRODUCED.

In accordance with a request of the Committee of Examination, and that
they might see the first steps in teaching children who have never had any in-
struction by the system of Object Lessons, a class of children was procured from-
a school out-id.- i,f the ri-y and placed before one of the teachers.

There was placed on the table before them cubes, spheres, cylinders, cones,
and other solids.

The attention of the children was first called to a sphere. They were told ta
oUerv • it- -hape ; then its name was told them, and they required to repeat
it. Then they \\vir requested to s?lect a sphere from the objects on the table;
then to point to other ol>j •(••* having the same shape. The children having:

426 OSWEGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

learned to distinguish this form, their attention was called to the cylinder, and
they were led to select others like it. Then its name was told them. After-
ward they were requested to look about the room and find something that had
the shape of the cylinder. The children pointed to the stove-pipe, also to the
pillars in the centre of the school-room. It was observed that the children dis-
tinguished resemblances in different objects much more readily at the close of
the exercise than at its commencement.

The same class was next placed in charge of another teacher. She under-
took to develop the idea of vegetable.

A small rose-bush was shown them, and they were asked if they had ever
•seen any thing like it before. Then they were requested to name some other
plant which they had seen. They mentioned rose-bush, gooseberry, currant.
They were asked what plants they eat which grow in the garden, and their re-
ply was "Cabbage."

They were shown a picture of a leaf and a real leaf, and an effort was made
to teach them to express a distinction between them ; but it was discovered that
they were German children, and had learned so little of our language that the
teacher must explain new words which expressed qualities to them in German
•before they could comprehend them.

THURSDAY AFTERNOON,

Exercises were held in the Court-house, and devoted to

PHONETIC READING.

Exercises were given with a C class, primary, in the 1st, 2d, 3d, and 4th steps.

1st Step. Teaching letters by their forms.

I was described as one perpendicular line.

V " " " two slanting lines.

D " " " one perpendicular line, and one curved line on the right,
touching the perpendicular line at the top and bottom.

B was described as one perpendicular line, and two curved lines on the right,
touching the perpendicular line at the top, in the centre, and at the bottom.

The design of this exercise \v&s,jirst, to secure accurate observation ; second,
to secure accurate expression. These were to constitute the foundation of sub-
sequent teaching.

The children were also given slips of straight and curved pasteboard, from
which to form these letters and then to tell their names.

2d Step. The sounds of the letters were repeated as simple vocal exercises,
without referring them to the letters which represent them.

3d Step. Now initial consonants were combined with syllables consisting of
a vowel followed by a consonant, as,

b — ud, bud, d — og, dog,

c — ot, cot, c— at, cat,

In this exercise, the powers or sounds of the letters only are used.

4th Step. Here two initial consonants were used, as,

bl — ack, black, br — ay, bray,

cl — oth, cloth, br — ow, brow,

The meaning of the words are given in this step.

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. 437

The ~ith and fith Steps were illustrated with the A class, primary, children
about i) years of age.

Anomalous sounds were considered, and the same sounds represented by dif-
ferent characters, also the same characters representing different sounds.

5//i Step. The three sounds of ch, also silent letters, initial, central, and term-
inal letters, were considered :

Ch has .the English sound, as in church, chair, chap, chip, chin, chat.

Ch has a hard sound, as in chyme, churn, choir, etc.

Cli has a French sound, as in Chicago, charade, chaise, Chemung, etc.

The words showing examples of these different sounds were given by the pu-
pils, while the teacher wrote them on the blackboard.

Initial silent Letters. — H is an initial silent letter in hour, honor.

Central silent Letters. — D and G are central silent letters in bridge, edge,
sign, etc.

Terminal silent Letters. — B and N are terminal silent letters in thumb, plumb,
autumn, hymn.

Gt/t Step. Sounds expressed by ou ; and long sound of o expressed by dif-
ferent letters; classification of letters, and rules of spelling.

The proper sound of o is expressed by ou in ground, found, round.
" long " o " " " " soul, mould, court.

" broad . " o " " " " sought, fought.

" close " u " " " " couple.

" long " u " " " croup.

The long sound of o is expressed by different letters, as in oat, boat, floor,
•doc, chateau, sew, coast, sorrow.

Classification of Letters. — Letters are classified, with reference to their sound,
into

Vowels, a, e, o, u, and semi -vowels, w, y; liquids, 1, m, n, r, ng; mutes,
sharp, p, t, f, th, as in thin ; mute flats, b, d, v, th, as in then ; diphthongs, i,
oi, oy, and aspirate h.

In addition to the foregoing exercises, a few simple rules for spelling were
deduced from examples of words given, and the exercises of the examination
•closed.

CONCLUSIONS OF THE COMMITTEE.

In view of all they have witnessed in the exercises, of which
the foregoing are brief sketches, and in the light of the best in-
formation which they have been able from various sources to
•obtain upon the subject of "Object Teaching," and what is
known as the Pestalozzian system generally, they feel warranted
in giving expression to the following conclusions :

1. That the principles of that system are philosophical anfc
sound ; that they are founded in, and are in harmony with the
nature of man, and hence are best adapted to secure to him such
an education as will conduce in the highest degree to his wel-
fare and happiness, present and future.

2. That the particular methods of instruction presented in the

428 OSVVKGO EDUCATIONAL CONVENTION.

exercises before us as illustrative of those principles merit and
receive our hearty approbation, subject to such modifications a*
experience and the characteristics of our people may determine
to be wise and expedient.

In conclusion, the Committee beg leave to present in the form
of resolutions the following recommendations:

Resolved, That in the opinion of your Committee, the System
of Object Teaching is admirably adapted to cultivate the per-
ceptive fa/ulties of the child, to furnish him with clear concep-
tions and the power of accurate expression, and thus to prepare
him for the prosecution of the sciences or the pursuits of active
life; and that the Committee do recommend the adoption of the
system in whole or in part, wherever such introduction is prac-
ticable.

Resolved, That this system of primary education, which sub-
stitutes in great measure the teachers for the book, demands
in its instructors varied knowledge and thorough culture ; and
that attempts to introduce it by those who do not clearly compre-
hend its principles, and who have not been trained in its meth-
ods, can result only in failure. \

All which is respectfully submitted.
(Signed) WM. F. PIIELPS,
D. H. COCIIKAN,

DAVID N. CAMP,

,- -r. TT Special Committee

THOMAS F. HARRISON, > •* „

TT -o ,,T on Report.

H. P. WILBUR,

GEO. L. FARXHAM,

W. NlCOLL,

Approved by the General Committee, and read before the Con-
vention, in Doolittle Hall, on Thursday evening, February 13th,.
1862.

THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACHING.

HISTORY furnishes no records of attention to elementary edu-
cation prior to the seventeenth century. The ancients neglected
the instruction of their children, although they provided schools
of philosophy for their young men. The prevailing idea on the
subject of education appears to have been that knowledge con-
sisted in the memory of rules and words rather than in things
and thoughts. The practice of teaching by requiring the pupils
to memorize all lessons, without' regard to an understanding of
their meaning, had come down from the monastic schools of
earlier a'ges. The principles of development by primary educa-
tion were then unknown in all the plans of teaching.

Just before the dawn of the seventeenth century, a keen ob-
server of nature and men, having noticed that artisans worked
out their results by inductive processes of reasoning, also that
the arts and sciences were progressing, while philosophy and
education remained stationary, borrowed the principle of utility
and progress from the workshops of his time, applied it to phi-
losophy and education, and the world was aroused by the tri-
umphal progress of a new system of philosophy which immor-
talized the name of Francis Bacon.

This philosopher taught that the powers of memory alone can
do but little toward the advancement of science or education.
He classed those school achievements in mere memory with the
physical achievements of the mountebanks: "The two perform-
ances are much of the same sort. The one is an abuse of the
powers of the mind; the other is an abuse of the powers of the
body. Both may excite our wonder, but neither is entitled to
•our respect."

Although Bacon's attention was chiefly confined to philosophy,
yet he struck the key-note of those great principles of education
which have become the foundation of the most philosophical
methods of teaching now practiced throughout the civilized
world. Said he, " Men read in books what authors say concern-
ing stones, plants, animals, and the like, but to inspect these

430 THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACHING.

stones, plants, and animals with their own eyes is far enough
from their thoughts ; whereas we should fix the eyes of our
mind upon things themselves, and thereby form a true concep-
tion of them." Little, however, was accomplished during Ba-
con's time in devising plans for the primary education of chil-
dren.

Early in the seventeenth century the inductive system of Ba-
con attracted the attention of a thinking, earnest teacher of
Austria — John Amos Comenius. He seems almost to have been
endowed with an intuition which gave him, to a remarkable de-
gree, a knowledge of the true principles of education. He saw
more clearly than any of his predecessors what was necessary
for the improvement of the methods of instruction, and he soon
made an application of the principles of Bacon's inductive system
to primary education. In 1657 he published the first school-
book in which pictures were used to illustrate the various topics
discussed in it. This work continued to- be a text-book in the
German schools for nearly two hundred years.

Comenius was an evangelical preacher as well as an educator,
and on the issue of a decree in 1624 that all persons must leave
the Austrian dominions who would not become Catholics, he
took his departure for Poland with thirty thousand families,
of whom five hundred were of noble blood. As he came upon
the range of mountains at the boundary, he paused to look once
more back to his native land, and, with his brethren, fell upon
his knees and prayed, with many tears, that God would not suf-
fer His Word to be entirely destroyed in that country, but would
preserve some seed of it there.

Who will say that those prayers were not answered, when,
within five years afterward, Comenius was himself permitted to
return and labor for the improvement of the schools of Bohemia.

Subsequently he went to Lissa, Poland, where he became pres-
ident of the school, and bishop of the Moravian brethren — a sect
which has been distinguished for its good schools wherever its
colonies have been planted. Here he published his first work,
the Janua Linguarum Eeserata — a new method of teaching
languages, in connection with instruction in the elements of the
sciences. This work soon carried his fame to other lands, and
every where it developed the necessity of a reform in education.

By an Act of Parliament Comenius was invited to England in
1641, to undertake the reformation of their schools. His labors
there were defeated by the disturbances in Ireland and the civil

THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACHING. 431

wars. A similar invitation having been extended to him by the
government of Sweden, he left England and went to Stockholm
in 1G42. War again interrupting his labors, he returned to Lissa.
Subsequently he visited Hungary and other places to prosecute-
his efforts in behalf of education. Again he returned to Lissa,
but only to encounter greater misfortunes. Amid the disturb-
ances between the Catholic Poles and the Moravian Protestants,
the city was burned, and he lost his house, his library, and his
manuscripts, the labors of many years. He subsequently went
to Holland, and found an asylum in the city of Amsterdam, where
he reproduced several of his lost works. He died in 1671, at
the age of eighty.

Comenius was the great educator of the seventeenth century.
Such was his enduring earnestness that, although exiled from his
native land, wandering, persecuted, and homeless, during the des-
olating thirty-years' war of that period, still he continued to labor
unweariedly in the cause of education, not only inspiring several
countries of Europe with an enthusiastic desire for a better sys-
tem of instruction, but introducing new principles of education,
which greatly modified the practices in teaching, and prepared
the way, by gradual changes, for the more thorough reformation
of schools which followed under the labors of subsequent edu-
cators.

In his educational works may be found the first promulgation
of the principles and plans of Object Teaching, and of a gradu-
ated system of instruction adapted to the wants of the age in
which he lived.

Some of his leading ideas on the subject of education we will
briefly state : " Since the beginning of knowledge must be with
the senses, the beginning of teaching should be made by dealing
with actual things. The object must be a real, useful thing, ca-
pable of making an impression upon the senses. To this end it
must be brought into communication with them ; if visible, with
the eyes ; if audible, with the ears ; if tangible, with the touch ;
if odorous, with the nose ; if sapid, with the taste. First the
presentation of the thing itself, and the real intuition of it; then
the oral explanation for the farther elucidation of it."

But inasmuch as the presentation of the thing itself is so fre-
quently impossible, he advised the use of pictures as the repre-
sentatives of things, that the words which related to them might
be understood.

The course of instruction laid down by Comenius commenced

432 THE HISTOKY OF OBJKCT TKACUlNir.

with infancy. During the first six years the children were to
learn to know animals, plants, stones, ami the names and uses of
the members of their own body. They were also to be led to
distinguish colors, and to delight their eyes with beautiful things.
They should begin Geography with the knowledge of the room,
the streets, the fields, the farm — Arithmetic, with counting ob-
jects— Geometry, with understanding 'the ideas of lines, circles,
angles, length, breadth, an inch, a foot, etc. — Music, with hearing
singing — History, with a knowledge of what happened to them
yesterday and the day before — Chronology, with the knowledge
of day and night, hours, weeks, and festivals.

The views of Comenius are so completely in harmony with
lihe natural means of acquiring knowledge through the exercise
of the senses, and with the laws of mental development, and
also with the observations and experiences of many succeeding
educators, that we deem the presentation of a few of his thoughts,
in language more literally his own, due even in this brief history
of Object Teaching. For the following extracts from his writings
we are indebted to that most valuable of all collections of educa-
tional literature, Barnard's American Journal of Education.

Said Comenius : "The best years of my own youth were wasted
in useless school exercises. How often, since I have learned to
know better, have I shed tears at the remembrance of lost hours.
But u'rirt' is vain. Only one thing remains; only one thing is
possible — to leave posterity what advice I can by showing the
way in which our teachers have led us into errors, and the meth-
od of remedying these errors."

His practical views of education may be discerned in the suc-
ceeding quotations :

" Instruction will usually succeed if it follows the course of
Nature. Whatever is natural goes forward of itself."

" The first education should be of the perceptions, then of the
memory, then of the understanding, then of the judgment."

" Instruction must begin with actual inspection, not with ver-
bal description of things."

"To learn is to proceed from something known to the knowl-
edge of something unknown; in which there are three things,
the known, the unknown, and the mental effort to reach the un-
known from the known."

" We first proceed toward knowledge by the perception and
understanding of the present ; and afterward go on from the
present to the absent by means of the information of others."

THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACHING. 433

"The attention should be fixed upon only one object at a time;
and upon the whole first, and the parts afterward."

" A second point should not be undertaken until the first is
learned ; and with the second, the first should be repeated."

"Sight will supply the place of demonstration. It is good to
use several senses in understanding one thing."

"To know any thing is to be able to represent it, either by
the mind, or the hand, or the tongue. We learn, not only in
order to understand, but also to express and to use what we un-
derstand. As much as any one understands, so much ought he
to accustom himself to express; and, on the other hand, he should
understand whatever he says. Speech and knowledge should
proceed with equal steps."

"Hitherto the schools have done nothing with the view of
developing children, like young trees, from the growing impulse
of their own roots, but only with that of hanging them over
with twigs broken off elsewhere. They teach youth to adorn
themselves with others' feathers, like the crow in JEsop's Fables.
They do not show them things as they are, but tell them what
one and another, and a third, and a tenth has thought and writ-
ten about them ; so that it is considered a mark of great wisdom
for a man to know a great many opinions which contradict each
other."

" The schools are wrong in first teaching language and then
proceeding to things. The thing is the substance, and the word
the accident ; the thing is the body, and the word the clothing.
Things and words should be studied together, but things espe-
cially, as the objects both of the understanding and of language."

" In God are the original ideas, which He impresses upon
things ; things, again, impress their representations upon the
senses ; the senses impart them to the mind ; the mind to the
tongue, and the tongue to the ears of others. The mind thinks
— the tongue speaks — the hand makes; hence the arts of speak-
ing and working, and the sciences of things."

Such are a few of the principles in education which Comenius
taught — and they have since been confirmed by the experiences
of two centuries.

It is difficult to judge to what extent the later educators —
Lock, Rousseau, and Pestalozzi — were indebted to Comenius for
those principles which they severally taught subsequently, but
we find much in the writings of each that is entirely in accord-
ance with the teachings of this great pioneer in educational re*

434 THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACH I Ml.

forms. It is not too much to say that a careful study of the his-
tory of education would result in the conviction that many of
the best methods of instruction, and the principles of education
on which are based so great a number of the modern improve-
ments in modes of teaching, were conceived and taught by Co-
menius more than two hundred years ago. He planted the seeds
which have germinated from time to time, under the fostering
care of various educators, and to-day we behold their most vig-
orous growth.

The labors of Comenius were performed during the first two
thirds of the seventeenth century. John Locke, the distinguished
English philosopher, lived during the last two thirds of that cen-
tury. He urged, as the chief business of primary education, the
development of the faculties of the child ; that as the first ideas
of children are derived from sensation, so the perceptive facul-
ties should be the first cultivated or developed. The main ele-
ments of his methods of education were attention to the physical
wants of the child, and the development of the intellectual pow-
ers through the instrumentality of things.

Rousseau, who acknowledged his indebtedness to Locke, and
who embodied ideas similar to those of that philosopher in a
treatise on education called "Emile," lived during nearly three
fourths of the eighteenth century.

Pestalozzi was born about the middle of the eighteenth, and
died soon after the close of the first quarter of the nineteenth
century. He said : " Observation is the absolute basis of all
knowledge. The first object then, in education, must be to lead
a child to observe with accuracy ; the second, to express with
correctness the result of his observations." "The development
of man commences with natural perceptions through the senses.
Its highest attainment, intellectually, is the exercise of reason."
Although we find no direct acknowledgment of Pestalozzi's in-
debtedness to Comenius, as we do of the relation of the latter
to Bacon, no one can examine the systems of these educators of
the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries without discovering
many remarkable similarities. It was doubtless owing to the
general diffusion of the principles so widely taught by Comenius
that the methods for applying them, which were subsequently
devised by Pestalozzi, became at once so popular and widely
successful.

The dawn of the present century beheld Pestalozzi at Bourg-
dorf, engaged with Kriisi in making a more detailed npplica-

•mi: n i. -TORY «u' OHJK T TKACIIIXC. 435

tion of those principles of education which were disseminated
1)\ Comenius a century and a half before, in methods chiefly
devised by himself. While there, Pestalozzi wrote that work —
••I low Gertrude teaches her Children" — which attracted so
much attention to his system of education from all parts of
Europe.

A- early as 1807 we find him in charge of the institution at
Yverdun, where he attained his highest renown, and where he
remained for nearly a quarter of a century. So widely had his
lame extended, that persons went thither from almost every
country of Europe, and even from America ; riot merely those
who were led by the impulses which inspired him, but by the
agents of kings and noblemen, and of public institutions, who de-
sired to make themselves acquainted with his methods of teach-
ing, in order to their introduction into other countries. No sim-
ilar institution has ever attained so great fame, and no other has
exerted so wide an influence on the methods of teaching.

Just before Pestalozzi opened his institution at Yverdun, be
received a request from a philanthropic society in Paris to send
a teacher there who could introduce his system of instruction
into France. Accordingly, he selected Mr. Joseph Neef, who had
been associated with him as a teacher, and who possessed tlw?
additional qualifications of understanding both the German and
French languages. Mr. Neef went to Paris, and remained some.
two years, laboring with a good degree of success.

During the summer of 1805, Mr. William Mac Clure, of Phil-
adelphia, while traveling in Switzerland, visited IVst.-ilozzi's
school, and was so much pleased with the system of teaching
that he resolved to introduce it into America. On returning to

O

Paris he sought out Mr. Neef, and invited him to come to this
Count rv.

" On what terms," said Mr. Mac Clure, " would yon £o to my
country and introduce your method of education ? I have seen
Pestalozzi ; I know his system ; my country wants it, and will
receive it with enthusiasm. I will engage to pay your passnge,
also to secure your livelihood. Go, and be your master's apostle
in the New World."

So generous an invitation awakened an earnest desire in Mr.
Neef to visit this country. He would fain have accepted it, but
he did not know our language. "Two years shall be allowed
you for acquiring that language, during which time I will sup-
port you," said this noble benefactor. This generous proposi-

436 THE HISTORY OF OlI.JKCT TEACHING.

tion decided the mission. Mr. Neef came to Philadelphia, stud-
ied the language, and in 1809 published a small volume setting
forth, somewhat in the style of an extended prospectus, the plans
and .principles of a new method of education which he proposed
to introduce into a private school that he should establish in the
suburbs of that city. He labored there for several years, but
from some cause, probably owing to his inability to adapt him-
self to the American mind and habits, his enterprise failed.
Judging from a second volume which he issued in 1813, on lan-
guage, he must have been not only impractical, but also have
failed to comprehend the necessity of Americanizing the system
instead of merely transplanting it.

He probably sought — to quote his own words, uttered in view
of the fate which might attend his school — " some obscure vil-
lage whose hardy youth want a schoolmaster ;" for, said he, " to
become an obscure, useful country schoolmaster is the highest
pitch of my worldly ambition."

Although Pestalozzi founded his system on correct principles,
he frequently erred in his practice of teaching. Many of his ex-
pedients for Object Teaching were faulty, and not even in ac-
cordance with his own system. In his zeal for the improvement
of the mind itself, and for methods of instruction which were
calculated to invigorate its faculties, he forgot the necessity of
positive knowledge as the materials for thought and practical
use in future life. So frequently did he violate his own system
in the exercises of the school-room, that one of his intimate
friends and admirers said of him, "His province is to educate
ideas, not children." Nevertheless, he succeeded in reviving the
true principles of teaching, and instituting the greatest educa-
tional movement of the century. He had the good fortune to
associate with him Neiderer, Krtisi, Schmid, Zeller, and Fellen-
berg,to whose systematic development of his methods, and their
dissemination of them, the subsequent success of his system is
largely due. Many of his teachers even resigned to him what-
ever of fame and profit might come from publishing the manuals
which they compiled for their respective branches of study while
engaged as instructors in his institution.

During the suV>j illation of Germany under Napoleon, the
minds of the ablest Prussian statesmen were eagerly occupied in
'le vising means for raising the moral, mental, and physical char-
acter of the nation to a standard of elevated development, which,
.although it might be of little immediate use in their struggle for

THE HISTORY OF OlUKCT TEACHING. 437

independence, yet might insure the success of such :i struggle in
the future. Among the prominent instrumentalities sought for
this purpose was an improvement in their schools, by the intro-
duction of the Pestalozzian system of teaching. The king, the
queen, and the ministry looked upon this movement with hopes
of the happiest results. Accordingly, extensive measures were
at once taken to test these plans.

Carl August Zeller, who had been one of Pestalozzi's teachers
at Bourgdorf, also at Yverdun, was engaged by the government
of Prussia to organize normal schools for training teachers in
this system of instruction. In addition to this means, several
young men were sent to Yverdun, also to other similar institu-
tions, to acquire the best methods of teaching. Thus, in a com-
paratively short time, a large body of competent instructors were
scattered among the Prussian schools.

Introduced as the system thus was under the most favorable
fcuspices, yet with some modifications, its spirit proved satisfac-
tory in meeting the needs of the people for a more thorough
intellectual development of the nation. This introduction was
commenced about 1810, and in 1825 it had possession of the en-
tire common school system of that country.

From Prussia and the German states the system of Pestalozzi
has been widely diffused in other countries by visitors who went
there for the purpose of examining the workings of their schools.
It was partially transferred to France by Cousin and Jullien.
The principles of this system now prevail in the best schools
of England, Denmark, Switzerland, Prussia, Germany, Sardinia,
Greece, and many of the colonies of Great Britain. The meth-
ods of teaching which prevail in the United States have been
materially influenced by the promulgation of these principles.

Some thirty Years ago efforts were made in Boston, and oth-
er portions of New England, to introduce the system of Pes-
taloxxi into their schools by Prof. William Russell, William C.
Woodbridge, Carter, Gallaudet, Alcott, and Dr. Griscom. Able
articles were published on this subject by Prof. Russell, in the
" Journal of Education" as long ago as 1829. In 1830 and '31,
William C. Woodbridge wrote a series of articles for the "Annals
of Education" describing the principles of teaching in the insti-
tution of Fellenberg, at Hofwyl, where improved methods of
Pestaloxzi's system were practiced. These articles treated chief-
ly upon the principles of the system, without giving details of
the methods. Notwithstanding the diffusion of the principles

488 'ni'-- HISTUKY or oi;.n.< T

of Object Teaching in this country during that period, its prac-
tice died out through the want of teachers trained in the system.
<m<! it* methods.

The institution of Pestalozzi, at Yverdun, was visited in 1818
by Dr. Mayo, of London, and about the same period by Dr.
Biber ami Mr. Greaves. Through the efforts of these gentlemen
the system taught there was introduced into England. The sue-
oesa of i hi* introduction was secured through the organization,
in 1836, of the "Home and Colonial School Society," and the
subsequent establishment of Training and Model Schools in Lon-
don, for instructing teachers in its principles and methods.

In this introduction of the system of Object Teaching into Eng-
land, it was found necessary to greatly modify the plans of in-
struction to adapt them to the Anglo-Saxon mind and character.

In the schools of this society the system of elementary instruc-
tion by object lessons has been brought to a much greater de-
gree of perfection than it attained even under the immediate
supervision of the celebrated Swiss educator.

The Training Institution of London usually has about two
hundred st udent teachers in attendance; and about one hundred
graduate annually. Up to the present time some 3000 teachers
have been trained there, and by them the methods of Object
Teaching are gradually being diffused throughout England.

Something has been done toward introducing the plans of
Object Teaching into the best schools of Canada. Visitors from
the United States to the celebrated Normal and Model Schools
of Toronto have caught glimpses of the system from time to
time, and brought away many suggestions for improvements in
their own methods of teaching.

About two years since, one who had long been dissatisfied
with the results of the usual methods of elementary instruction,
and who had been endeavoring to devise some more common-
sense methods for primary schools than those which consisted
of mere memory of words, while visiting the Model School of
Toronto, found the books published by the Home and Colonial
Society on elementary instruction. He procured these, together
with pictures and other apparatus for illustrating the lessons,
and, returning to the schools under his supervision, prepared his
programmes, called his teachers together, gave them instructions,
and commenced in earnest the introduction of Object Teaching
into all the primary schools under his charge.

Manv were the difficulties encountered. The methods of

THE HISTORY OF OBJECT TEACHING. 439

teaching were new alike to superintendent, teachers, and pupils.
No om> was at hand, familiar with the system, to give instruc-
tion cither in its principles or methods. As a substitute for this,
and the guidance of one trained in the practice of Object Teach-
ing, once during each week teachers and superintendent met to
compare notes of lessons and notes of progress. The oldest
teacluTs, av \\ell us the youngest, studied in preparation for the
work before them.

The teachers became more and more interested in the system
as they >aw its results in their pupils. The interest of the pu-
pils grew stronger as the teachers learned to practice the system
better. Such were the efforts for the first systematic introduc-
tion of Object Teaching into the United States ; and the honor
of this achievement is due to the city of Oswego, her earnest su-
perintendent, E. A. Sheldon, Esq., and her progressive Board of
Education.

During the regular annual examinations for promotions, about
one year ago, the subject of Object Lessons was added to the
list of studies in which examinations were to be made. It was
my pleasure to be present for several days, and witness the ex-
ercises. Notes from parents requesting that Henry, William,
and Mary might be allowed to remain in the primary school an-
other term, "they are so much interested in their Object Les-
sons," told in unmistakable language of its appreciation by the
parents. They found their children becoming unusually inter-
ested in school, and more attentive and observing at home ; and
their hearts were gladdened in view of the changes that were
being wrought in their boys and girls.

My own gratification has since been repeatedly expressed in
words similar to the following: "To any one who may desire
to see the practical operations of Object Teaching, and the best
system of elementary instruction to be found in this country, let
me say, make a visit to Oswego."

It was at length discovered that to meet the wants of their
schools, and secure the complete introduction and continued
practice of the system, a Training School was needed. Accord-
ingly, application was made to the " Home and Colonial School
Society" of London for a training teacher. They responded
by sending Miss M. E. M. Jones, who arrived here on the first
of May last, and immediately entered upon her duties.

In response to an announcement that a few teachers would be
admitted in the class besides those engaged in the public schools

Till: HISToKV (>F OlMKrT I ! A< KING.

of Oswego, a dozen other ladies assembled there on the 6th of
August last. Others were subsequently admitted. Several mem-
bers of this training- elass liave already left to engage in tcaehino-.

Rooms liave been fitted up in the New York State Normal
School ut Albany for a Model School in Object Ti aching, where
til.- future graduates from that institution will be instructed in
this s\>;em. This Model Department will lie under the charge
of a lady who was trained in the elass at Oswego.

The Hoard of Trustees of the New Jersey Slate Normal
School, appreciating the advantages of the system, sent a lady
teacher to attend this training class, and defrayed her expei
to prepaiv herself for introducing it into their school at Tren-
ton.

Some of the practices of Object Teaching have been intro-
duced into the Normal School at Ypsilanti, Mich., by the princi-
pal of that institution.

Already several cities and many towns are taking steps pre-
paratory to iix introduction, and some have been practicing its
lessons for several months. Among those thus actively inter-
d. we may mention Syracuse, New York, Paterson, X. J.,
Chicago, 111., Toledo and Cincinnati, Ohio, Rochester, X. Y., San
Francisco, and might add a large number of smaller places.*

The irreat interest manifested in this system of instruction is
shown by the numerous articles on the subject which appear in
the educational journals of the country, and in the repeated and

* XOTK.— The author of this Addr»--< ha- omitted to state s. me I-K-N. of a
personal natniv, which are important to an accurate history of tin- ] re-cnt
movement in primary education in this country.

In the summer of 1860, Mr. Calkins commenced the active j reparation of
a work on "Object Le— mi-." \\hii-h wa- publi-hcd in July, 1801. Within six
months from its first presentation to the public- it had reached its fourth edition,
and it is u-ed wherever there is any interest in Object Teaching. In addition
to this, and in resj>onse to numerous invitations from Teachers' Institutes and
Teacher-* A —Delations, he has delivered lectures on this subject in various parts
of the states of New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and in Massachusetts.
Of his labors in the State of New York, the State Superintendent remark- in
his last Annual Report:

"A large number of school commissioners, having interested themselves in
the subject, secured the services of X. A. Calkins, Esq. — a gentleman who has
given the system much attention and study — who vi-ited and conducted quite
a number of institutes, lecturing upon the principles, and giving instruction in
the practice of ' Object Teaching.' In this way the attention of many hundreds
of our teachers has been directed to definite aims in the elevation of the char-
acter of the educational work/' — Board of Education, Oswego.

Till: IllsTuUV OF nlUKCT TEACHING. 44l

numerous inquiries relative to its plans. Amid this general in-
terest in the system, and the popular excitement concerning it,
there is great danger that the well-meaning, but not well-inform-
ed, may make fatal mistakes in attempting to practice it. Object
Teaching is based on philosophical principles, and the teacher
must know what those principles are before she can apply its
methods successfully. The true system of teaching takes Nature
lor its guide ; its dangers lie in the want of observation and con-
1'iM-mity to the relations of knowledge and the laws of mental
development.

During the time of Pestalozzi, Yverdun was the fountain from
whence the teachers of Europe and America sought a new and
better system of education. When, subsequently, the Prussian
schools had been modified by the methods employed at Yverdun,
educators journeyed thither to observe and to learn.

To-day educators and teachers from several states, and from
various parts of our own state, have come up to Oswego to see
with their own eyes what they have heard with their ears of
the schools, and the system of instruction pursued here. Their
hearts have been made glad by what has already been witnessed,
and their longings for some sound philosophical improvement,
for some means \vherebymore satisfactory and practical results
in elementary education may be attained, has been gratified by
the hope that the glorious day lia< already dawned on our sho
when they////7o.s-oy,//// of Bacon, tin i>ri >!>•', ^Us of Comem'"** tin
#yxti ,n <>f /Vs-/,/Ac.r/. <unf tin nn^t practical method* <>/' Ol>ject
7'< <!<•/, ;,,, i shall l>e thoroughly incorporated into the system of
instruction in all the schools of our country.

YV KK DUN

OBJECT TEACHING;

ITS GENERAL PRINCIPLES, AND THE OSWEGO SYSTEM.

Report (driiwn up by Prof. S. S. Greene) of a committee appointed by the National
Teachers' Association in 1864 to the Annual Meeting in 1865.*

IN presenting the report of a large committee, residing at great
•distances from each other, it is but just to say that nothing like
concert of action could be secured.

All the members have been invited to express their opinions
upon the subject of the report. The writer alone has .visited Os-
wego for the specific purpose of obtaining the requisite facts. The
opinions of the other members, so far as expressed, are the results
of their individual experience, their observations of object teaching
in Oswego or elsewhere, or of their general views of the possibili-
ties of the system. These opinions will have their appropriate
places in the report. An excellent communication from Rev. Dr.
Hill, President of Harvard University, obtained at the solicitation
of the writer, will also be referred to. It is but just to say that the
opinion «»f Mr. Pennell, of St. Louis, was, as a whole, somewhat
adverse to any thing like systematic object teaching.

Without further preliminary remarks, your committee proceed to
inquire,

1. What place do external objects hold in the acquisition of
knowledge ? Are they the exclusive source of our knowledge ?

2. So far as our knowledge is obtained from external objects as a
-source, how far can any educational processes facilitate the acquisi-
tion of it ?

3. Are the measures adopted at Oswego in accordance with the
•general principles resulting from these inquiries ?

That all our knowledge comes from external objects as a source,
no one who has examined the capacities of the human mind pre-
tends to claim. Yet no inconsiderable part springs directly from
this source. Nature itself is but the unfolding and expression of
ideals from the great fountain and storehouse of all thought.

* The Committee consisted of Barnas Sears, D. D., Providence, R. I.; Prof. S. S. Greene, Prov-
idence, R. I.; J. L. Pickard, Superintendent of Schools, Chicago, 111.; J. D. Philbrick, Superin-
tendent of Schools, Boston, Mass ; Diivid N. Camp, State Superintendent of Schools, Connecti
tut; R. Edwnrds, Principal of Normal School, Illinois: C. L. Pennell, St. Louis, Mo

444 OBJECT TEACHING.

With the Creator the ideal is the original, the outward form, its-
embodiment, or expression. The rose is a thought of God ex-
pressed. With us the forms of Nature are the originals, the de-
rived conceptions, our borrowed thoughts, borrowed, since it is the
thought of the Creator through the mediation of Nature that, en-
tering our minds, becomes our thought. His claim to originality
is most valid who approaches nearest the divine source, observes
most faithfully, and interprets most accurately. The page of Na-
ture lies open to all. No intellect is so weak as not to read some-
thing,— none so profound as to exhaust her unfathomable depths.
She has an aspect to attract the gaze of early infancy. She re-
wards the restless curiosity of childhood. She repays the more
thoughtful examinations of youth, and crowns \sith unfading laurels
the profoundest researches of the philosopher. She stimulates by
present acquisitions and prospective attainments. The well known
of to-day is bordered by the imperfectly known, the attracting field
of research for the morrow. What we know and can express is
accompanied with much that we know, but have no power at
present to expiv-- .

Says the Rev. Dr. Hill, " It is the thought of God in the object
that stimulates the child's thought." Again, "Text-book and lec-
ture without illustrations frequently fail in giving just ami vivid
images, and generally fail in awakening that peculiar reverence
which may be excited by direct contact with Nature ;" and again,
"Nature is infinite in its expressions, and a natural object contains
more than can be expressed in words. The great object is to teach
the child to see and read more than you yourself could <-\pi
words." He gives an example in the case of his own child, \\hirh
very forcibly illustrates this point. "I was walking," he says,.
" yesterday with my little girl, and showing her plants and insects-
and birds as we walked along. We were looking at lichens on the
trees, when she suddenly and without hint from me said, 'The ma-
ple trees have different lichens from the ash ; I mean to see if I can
tell trees by their trunks without looking at the leaves.' So for a
long distance she kept her eyes down, saying to the trees as she
passed, lElm, maple, ash, pine,' etc., and never failing. Now,
neither she nor I would find it easy to express in words the differ-
ence between some of the elms and some of the ashes, though the
difference was easy to see." How emphatically true is this last re-
mark ! and how true it is that, even if these should at any time be
clothed with language, other marks and distinctions would unfold
themselves equally obvious to the eye, hut quite as difficult to be-

OIJJHCT TI:\( -HIM; 445

v\|»ivs.M.-d .' They r\]>n — tliniiM-lvrs to our senses, and through
tlu'iu t" <>ur andentandtnga, but we lack words to bind them into
<>ur forms of thought. In other words, the forms of nature are
tilled with thoughts which are, at all times, revealing themselves to
as in advance of our power of speech. The thought is infolded in
tin.' form, ami the form unfolds the thought. It becomes ours only
when we have experienced it. Human speech may recall, but can
nrvrr originate it. To be known it must be seen, or realized by
the senses. This necessarily lays the foundation for object
teaching.

But while Nature is thus the source of a vast amount of our
knowledge, we have other sources, concerning which the most we
can say of the objects in Nature is, they are only the occasions
which call it forth. It springs spontaneously and intuitively from
the depths of the soul. Such thoughts are not in the object, but
in the mind. The object neither embodies nor in any way ex-
presses them. It serves merely as the occasion to call them into
consciousness. The boy drops his ball into the eddying current,
and it passes beyond his reach. Though he may not be in a mood
sufficiently philosophical to put into form the intuitive truth that
one and the same object can not be in the hand and out of it at the
same time, yet his vexation and grief will sufficiently express it.
That thought, no one will pretend, is in the ball or in the water, or
is expressed by either. It is simply in the mind.

So in the use of -a native language, objects are most efficient aids
in giving precision to the application of words, but they can never
supply that wonderful power of discrimination in the expression of
thought which marks the earliest and latest periods of life. Says
the Rev. Dr. Sears, the chairman of this committee, "The eloquent
speaker does not, in his highest bursts of oratory, first select words
and parts of a sentence, and from them afterwards construct a
whole, but he begins with the whole, as a germ in his mind, and
from it develops the parts. This power in language is instinctive,
and can no more be achieved by rules and canons of criticism than
can a work of genius. A philosopher with his great intellect can
not learn to speak a language idiomatically, feelingly, and naturally,
any quicker than a child. The understanding alone may make a
linuiiUt, or a critic, but not a natural, fluent, and easy speaker.
Study and analysis ;ii<l in comprehending language, and in correct-
ing errors ; but the native charms of idiomatic and touching En-
glish come unbidden from the depths of the soul, from a sort of
unconscious inspiration."

446 OBJECT TEACHING.

Then, again, all subjects which are purely mental, especially
those which have as their substance things hoped for, and as theh
evidence things not seen, are beyond the reach of object lessons.
Thoughts, feelings, volitions, intellectual states; all notions of
space and time, of aesthetic and moral qualities; all ideas of the
absolute and the infinite, and finally, of God, as the unapproached
and unapproachable fountain and source of all ; all these rise im-
measurably above the realm of the senses. Indeed, the introduc-
tion of material forms would rather obscure than aid in illustrating
many of these subjects. Of these we may form what is logically
called a notion by combining their notce or characteristics, but we
can never represent them to the eye of the mind by form or image.
Objects may have been the occasion of calling up many of these
ideas, but they are, by no means, the source of them. They ad-
dress themselves to the interior consciousness alone, never to the
sertses. All knowledge springing from this source is rational rather
than experimental. Yet let it not be understood that it is entirely
dissociated from physical forms. We use this rational knowledge
in thousands of ways, in our connection with the external world.

Let us pass to our second inquiry. So far as our knowledge has
its source in external objects, how far can any educational processes
facilitate the acquisition of it ?

The thoughts of the Creator, as expressed in the outer world,
would remain forever uninterpreted but for the presence of a know-
ing, thinking being, whose organism is in harmony with Nature.
In early infancy, the minimum if not the zero point of intelligence,,
there is little or no appearance of such adaptation. We see only a
sentient being, impelled chiefly if not wholly by instinct. The
highest form of observation results in mere sensation. It is akin to
that of the brute. Soon, however, the child awakes to the con-
sciousness that what he sees is no part of himself. He distinguishes
between himself and the objects around him. His intelligent na-
ture, which before existed only in germ, is called into action. He
interprets his sensations, and these interpretations are called percep-
tions. Now commences the period for the spontaneous cultivation
of the perceptive faculty. Nature is ready with the proper aliment
for its nourishment, and wise is that parent who sees to it that his
child receives without stint. This is the period of greatest acute-
ness of this faculty — the period when an instinctive curiosity sup-
plies the place occupied, later in life, by a determined will. It is
the period for absorbing knowledge miscellaneously. Blessed is
that child whose lot is cast where Nature in her purest and loveliest

OBJECT TEACHING. 44?

forms daily feasts all his senses. Now is the time for gathering food
for the higher faculties which exist either in embryo, or with only a
feeble development. The knowledge gained is without order, and
purelv elementary. During this, which may be called the nursery
period, little or no instruction can be given. The faculties act
spontaneously, and with very little guidance from without.

Even at this period the faculty of memory must be developed ;
for the mind instinctively grasps at the whole of an object. Yet a
single perception gives only the whole of one aspect. Be it a
mite, a shell, or a mountain — it must have many aspects — an in-
terior and an exterior. It has parts and properties. After the
mind has contemplated every one of these in succession, it can not
then form one complete whole without retaining all the previous
perceptions. This process of taking together into one whole all the
parts, aspects, and qualities of an object, and drawing off for the
use of the mind a kind of photograph or mental picture, is called,
as the term signifies, conception. It is the result of many varied,
attentive, and careful perceptions in connection with memory.
These conceptions, again, are laid away in the memory for future
use. As they are recalled, and, as it were, placed before the eye
of the mind, they have been variously denominated conceptions,
concepts, ideas, notions, reproductions, or images. The name is
of but little consequence, provided that we all understand them to
be the results of perception, addressing themselves to our internal
sight or consciousness — that they are quasi-objects, internal reali-
ties, with corresponding external realities. And yet, in using the
term conception or concept, as equivalent to the image mental
picture or reproduction of a single object, we should be careful to
regard it as a conception in its depth and intention, not in the
whole breadth or extent of its application ; for to reach this re-
quires the exercise of the higher faculties.

In the period of infancy, before the power of speech is developed,
children form those conceptions whose very existence stimulates to
the use of language. They early become' the occasions for distin-
guishing between what is true and what is false, what has an in-
ternal seeming with an external reality, and what has an internal
seeming without an external reality. At an early period the mind
finds itself able to project forms of its own, to build castles and pal-
aces, create gorgeous scenes, and dwell upon them as though
they had a corresponding external existence. This power of imagi-
nation was formerly applied only to that faculty by which new
scenes or forms were produced by combinations derived from actual

448 OBJECT TEACHING.

conceptions. Latterly, it is more generally applied to the faculty
of forming images, whatever their source.

Still another power manifests itself before much can be done by
way of direct culture. It comes in answer to an interior demand.
It is the power of language. Let us not mistake its functions, or
the mode of cultivating it. It is not called forth by any human
agency. It springs up spontaneously as soon as the pressure for
utterance demands its development.

While an external object may be viewed by thousands in com-
mon, the conception of it addresses itself only to the individual
consciousness. My conception is mine alone — the reward of care-
less observation, if imperfect ; of attentive, careful, and varied ob-
servation, if correct. Between mine and yours a great gulf is fixed.
No man can pass from mine to yours, or from yours to mine.
Neither in any proper sense of the term can mine be conveyed to
you, nor yours to me. Words do not convey thoughts; they are
not the vehicles of thoughts in any true sense of that term ; a word
is simply, a common symbol which each associates with his own
conception.

Neither can I compare mine with yours except through the me-
diation of external objects. And then how do I know that they
are alike? that a measure called a foot, for instance, seems as long
to you as to me? My conception of a new object, which you and I
observe together, may be very imperfect. By it I may attribute to
the object what does not belong to it, take from it what does, dis-
tort its form, or otherwise pervert it. Suppose now at the time of
observation we agree upon a word as a sign or symbol for the object
or the conception. The object is withdrawn ; the conception only
remains, — imperfect in my case, complete and vivid in yours. The
sign is employed. Does it bring back the original object? By no
means. Does it convey my conception to your mind ? Nothing
of the kind ; you would be disgusted at the shapeless image. Does
it convey yours to me ? No ; I should be delighted at the sight.
What does it effect? It becomes the occasion for each to call up
his own conception. Does each now contemplate the same thing ?
What multitudes of dissimilar images instantly spring up at the
announcement of the same symbol ! — dissimilar, not because of any
thing in the one source whence they are derived, but because of
either an inattentive and imperfect observation of that source, or of
some constitutional or habitual defect in the use of the perceptive
faculty. What must be the actual condition of children, then, at
the proper age to enter school ?

OBJECT TEACHING. 449

At this very point lie the greatest deficiencies in the ordinary-
teaching of our schools. It may be reasonably supposed that chil-
dren at the proper age to enter school have substantially correct
conceptions of the limited number of objects which fall under their
daily observation. Of this, however, we must not be too certain,
especially if we have occasion to refer to marks or qualities which
lie beyond the most common observation. We may use an appro-
priate term applied to some familiar object, some aspect of a tree,
as in case of Dr. Hill's little girl ; the object may be a familiar one,
the term may have been heard a thousand times, and yet the child
may never have dreamed that the one applies to the other. What
conception will the use of such a term occasion ? Because the
term and its application are familiar to the teacher, he makes the
fatal mistake of supposing them so to the child. His teaching, in
consequence, is so far powerless. Words have no mysterious
power of creating conceptions. True it is that the mind, at length,
acquires the power of divining the application of words from their
connection. But we must not presume this in children.

Again, there is to every child the region of the clearly known,
and the region of the faintly known, lying just beyond. All terms
which apply to objects in this region have but a misty significance,
and arc often misapplied. Yet in the school-room they are liable
to be used as if well understood.

All terms relating to what is unknown to the child, whether
scientific terms pertaining to latent properties of familiar things, or
familiar and popular terms pertaining to unknown things, are value-
less when used by teacher or pupil.

Again, the abstract definitions at the commencement of the read-
ing lesson, or taken from the dictionary, are usually deceptive and
unreliable ; they merely exchange an unknown term for another
equally unknown. In other words, they do not create conceptions.

The usual process of teaching children to read, or indeed any
process, unless great pains are taken, tends to make the direct ob-
ject of reading the mere utterance of words, and not the awaken-
ing of conceptions. And hence arises that kind of chronic stupid-
ity which so often marks all school exercises. Let any teacher first
fill his own mind with a vivid picture of the objects which the
words of a single lesson should call up, and then call upon his best
class to repeat the language, carefully searching for their ideas, and
he will find the deficiency in actual conception most astonishing.

Again, the theory of teaching with many, if we may infer their
theory from their practice, is to require the pupil to commit to

450 OBJECT TEACHING.

memory the terms and statements of the text-book, whether they
awaken conceptions or not, and to regard the standard of excellence
as fluency of utterance and accuracy in repeating terms.

Now against all this way of teaching language, object teaching,
in any proper sense of the term, raises an earnest and perpetual
protest.

But what is object teaching? Not that so-called object teaching
which is confined to a few blocks and cards to be taken from the
teacher's desk, at set times, to exhibit a limited round of angles,
triangles, squares, cubes, cones, pyramids, or circles; not that
which requires the pupil to take some model of an object lesson.
drawn out merely as a specimen, and commit it to memory ; nor is
it that injudicious method which some teachers have adopted in
order to be thorough, that leads them to develop distinctions which
are suited only to the investigations of science ; nor is it a foolish
adherence to the use of actual objects when clear conceptions have
been formed and may take the place of physical forms ; nor is it
that excessive talking about objects which makes the teacher do
every thing, and leaves the child to do nothing, — that assigns no task
to be performed — a most wretched and reprehensible practice ; nor,
again, is it that which makes a few oral lessons, without any thing
else, the entire work of the school.

But it is that which takes into the account the whole realm of
Nature and Art, so far as the child has examined it, assumes as
known only what the child knows — not what the teacher knows —
and works from the well known to the obscurely known, and so on-
ward and upward till the learner can enter the fields of science or
abstract thought. It is that which develops the abstract from the
concrete, — which develops the idea, then gives the term. It is that
which appeals to the intelligence of the child, and that through the
senses until clear and vivid conceptions are formed, and then uses
these conceptions as something real and vital. It is that which
follows Nature's order — the thing, the conception, the word ; so
that when this order is reversed — the word, the conception, the
thing — the chain of connection shall not be broken. The word
shall instantly occasion the conception, and the conception shall be
accompanied with the firm conviction of a corresponding external
reality. It is that which insists upon something besides mere
empty verbal expressions in every school exercise — in other words,
expression and thought in place of expression and no thought. It
is that which cultivates expression as an answer to an inward press-
ing want, rather than a fanciful collection of pretty phrases culled

OBJECT TEACHING. 451

from different authors, and having the peculiar merit of sounding
well. It is that which makes the school a place where the child
comes in contact with realities just such as appeal to his common
sense, as when he roamed at pleasure in the fields, — and not a place
for irksome idleness, — not a place where the most delightful word
uttered by the teacher is " dismissed." It is that which relieves
the child's task only by making it intelligible and possible, not by
taking the burden from him. It bids him examine for himself, dis-
criminate for himself, and express for himself, — the teacher, the
while, standing by to give hints and suggestions, — not to relieve the
labor. In short, it is that which addresses itself directly to the eye
external or internal, which summons to its aid things present or
things absent, things past or things to come, and bids them yield
the lessons which they infold, — which deals with actual existence,
and not with empty dreams — a living realism and not a fossil dog-
matism. It is to be introduced in a systematic way, if it can be
done, — without much form where system is impracticable ; but in-
troduced it should be in some way every where. It will aid any
teacher in correcting dogmatic tendencies, by enlivening his lessons,
and giving zest to his instructions. He will draw from the heavens
above, and from the earth beneath, or from the waters under the
earth, from the world without, and from the world within. He
will not measure his lessons by pages, nor progress by fluency of
utterance. He will dwell in living thought, surrounded by living
thinkers, — leaving at every point the impress of an objective and a
subjective reality. Thoughtful himself, he will be thought-stirring
in all his teaching. In fact, his very presence, with his thought-
inspiring methods, gives tone to his whole school. Virtue issues
unconsciously from his every look and every act. He himself be-
comes a model of what his pupils should be. To him an exercise
in geography will not be a stupid verbatim recitation of descriptive
paragraphs, but a stretching out of the mental vision to see in liv-
ing picture ocean and continent, mountain and valley, river and
lake, not on a level plane, but rounded up to conform to the curva-
ture of a vast globe. The description of a prairie on fire, by the
aid of the imagination, will be wrought up into a brilliant object
lesson. A reading lesson descriptive of a thunder storm on Mount
Washington will be something more than a mere comformity to the-
rules of the elocutionist. It will be accompanied with a conception
wrought into the child's mind, outstripped in grandeur only by the-
scene itself. The mind's eye will see the old mountain itself, with
its surroundings of gorge and cliff, of woodland and barren rock, of

452 OBJECT Ti:\<n iv.

deep ravine and craggy peak. It will sec the majestic thunder-
cloud moving up, with its snow-white summits resting on walls as
black as midnight darkness. The ear will almost hear the peals of
muttering thunder as they reverberate from hill to hill.

A proper care on the part of the teacher may make such a scene
an all-absorbing lesson. It is an object lesson — at least, a quasi-
object lesson — just such as should be daily mingled with those on
external realities. To give such lessons requires, on the part of the
teacher, a quickened spirit — a kind of intellectual regeneration.
Let him but try it faithfully and honestly, and he will soon find
himself emerging from the dark forms of Judaism into the clear
light of a new dispensation. Indeed, this allusion contains more
than a resemblance. The founder of the new dispensation was
called, by way of eminence, " The Master." In him was embodied
and set forth the art of teaching. He was the "teacher come from
God" to reveal in his own person and practice God's ideal of
teaching. And did he n«>t invariably descend to the concrete even
with hi* adult disciples? Hence it was that the common people
heard him gladly. Whoever will study the lessons given by him
will see with what unparalleled skill he passed from concrete forms
up to abstract truths. He seldom commenced with the abstract.
"A <M\V»T went forth to sow;" "A certain man had two sons;" "I
am the vine, ye are the branches," are specimens of the way he
would open a lesson to unfold some important abstract truth. The
vatise on object teaching extant is the four Gospels. Com-
mencing as if he discovered an interior fitness in the object itself,
he would lay under contribution the wheat, the tares, the grass, the
lilies, the water, the bread, the harvest, the cloud, or the passing
event, and that to give some important lesson to his disciples.

The abstract we must teach, but our teaching need not be abstract.
We may approach the abstract through the concrete. We must do
it in many cases. And the methods of our Saviour are the divine
methods informally expressed in his life. Let us reverently study
them, and enter into the spirit with which they were employed.
Such, in brief, are the fundamental uses of objects ; such the adapta-
tion of the human mind in its development to external Nature ; such
its growth and ever increasing capacity to interpret the revelations
of her myriad forms ; and such the wonderful power of language.

Let us now commence at the period when it is proper for a child
to enter school. What is to engross his attention now? In any
system of teaching, all concede that one of his first employments
should be to learn the new language — the language of printed sym-

OBJECT TEACHING. 453

bolt addressed, not to the ear, but to the eye. And here commence
the iii'»t divergent paths. The more common method is to drop
entirely all that has hitherto occupied the child's attention, present
him with the alphabet, point out the several letters, and bid him
e«-ln' their names in response to the teacher's voice. By far the
greatest pi»rt'n»n of his time is passed in a species of confinement
and inactivity, which ill comports with his former restless habits.
Usually occupied in his school work but twice — and then for a few
moments only — during each session, he advances from necessity
slowly, and this imprisonment becomes irksome and offensive. To
one who is not blinded by this custom, which has the sanction of a
ivinote antiquity, the inquiry naturally forces itself upon his atten-
tion,— Is all this necessary ? Must the child, because he is learning
a new language, forget the old? May he not be allowed to speak
at times, even in school, and utter the vital thoughts that once filled
his mind with delight? May he not have some occupation that
shall not only satisfy the restless activities of his nature, but also
shall gratify his earnest desire for knowledge ? Must he be made
to feel that the new language of printed letters has no relation to
the old ? Does he reach. the goal of his school work, as too often
seems the case, when he can pronounce words by looking at their
printed forms ? Why not recognize in the printed word the same
vital connection between the word and the thought as before?
Why not follow the dictates of a sound philosophy — the simple
suggestions of common sense — and recognize the fact that the child
comes fresh from the school of Nature, where actual scenes and real
objects have engrossed his whole attention, and have been the
source of all that has made his life so happy? If so, then why not
let him draw freely from this source while learning to read ; nay, as
far as possible, make the very act of learning to read tributary to
the same end, and, at the earliest possible time, make it appear that
the new acquisition is but a delightful ally of his present power to
speak ? The transition from his free and happy life at home to the
confinement of the school-room will be less painful to him, and at
the same time it will be apparent that the school is not a place to
check but to encourage investigation.

Such inquiries as these have occupied the minds of intelligent
educators who have ventured to question the wisdom of past meth-
ods. And they have led to the introduction of methods designed
to occupy the time, and give interesting employment to the chil-
dren. They have led to the introduction of objects familiar and in-
teresting. Lessons are drawn from them which give the same im

454 OBJECT TEACHING.

ession of practicalness and reality as the children received before
the restraints of school life commenced. They lead to direct and
animated conversation between the teacher and the pupils. They
are thus instrumental in revealing to the teacher the defective and
scanty language of the children. At the same time they furnish
the best means for cultivating the use of words. Lessons on objects
do vastly more. By means of these the teacher soon learns that the
children have not used their perceptive faculties to good advantage.
Their observations have been careless and negligent. Their con-
ceptions are consequently faulty. He has it in his power now to
quicken this faculty, and correct defective conceptions. More than
this, he has a plan for the future. The very points which he wishes
the children to observe now are to become hereafter the basis of
scientific knowledge. Thus form and color, weights and measures,
part and qualities, are carefully observed.

So, again, the very acquisition of the printed language becomes a
kind of object lesson. The sound of a familiar word is given, its
meaning is known and recognized, — its elementary parts are drawn
out and given both by the teacher and the pupils, — the characters or
letters are applied and placed upon the blackboard. The sounds
are combined into the spoken word, the letters into the printed,
and the word, whether printed or spoken, is instantly associated
with the idea.

Work for the slate is now prepared ; the letters are to be made
by the children, the words to be formed, the meaning to be made
out. Reading from the slate or the blackboard is soon commenced,
and it must have the peculiar merit of uttering thoughts familiar to
the child. Any child can read understandingly what he has him-
self developed and written with his own hand. The teacher devel-
ops new thoughts ; but they are thoughts drawn directly from pres-
ent objects, and recorded upon the board or the slate. They can
not be tortured by that blundering, drawling utterance which the
school-room usually engenders and tolerates. Language can be cul-
tivated from a new point of view. The spoken and written word
can be compared. The errors of home and street life are more
readily corrected.

These several processes of developing and writing or printing
keep all the children at work. Instead of having seven-eighths of
their time devoted to irksome idleness, the children have something
to do, all of which contributes efficiently to, at least, three distinct
ends — learning to read more rapidly and more intelligently, — advan-
cing in useful knowledge for present purposes, — laying the founda

OBJECT TEACHING. 455

tion for future growth by a correct acquisition of the elements ot
knowledge.

The habit which children thus early acquire of putting on record
what they learn or develop can not be too highly valued. In the
ordinary methods of teaching, they look upon all attempts at com-
position with a sort of dread from which they seldom recover
through their whole school life. But in this way, from the begh-
ning, they grow up to the daily habit of composing their own real
thoughts under the guidance of the teacher.

But the chief and highest advantage of giving these lessons lies
not so much in any one, or perhaps in all of these, as in its direct
influence upon the teacher himself. It can not be pursued even
tolerably well without making it manifest to any one that the great
object of teaching is to deal with ideas rather than to crowd the
memory with words. He who can give an object lesson well is ca-
pable of giving any lesson well, because he has learned that it is the
reality and not the expression of it that is the chief object to be
gained. He who mal .>s it his first, second, and last aim to teach
realities, wi1! soon discover two essential conditions. He must
know the present capacity and attainments of the child, and then
vhnt realities are united to them. If it were not for one fact, our
Primary Schools .vould be filled with a cabinet of natural objects as
varied as those that fill halls of our highest institutions, and that is
the simple fact that children can remember -vords as words, without
associating them with any idea whatever. They can use words
which mean much, yet with them they mean nothing. They can
repeat them fluently, — give emphasis to them in imitation of the
*-.°'?Ver's voice. They can use them as though they really meant
something. Yet more — they can see that the teacher accepts them
as though all was right. Now here is a double evil. The teacher
is a stranger to the child's real condition, and the child supposes
he is actually learning something.

One reason why so many are opposed to Object Teaching — or
Reality Teaching it should be called — is the simple fact that they
can not readily free themselves from the impression that their
knowledge of the subjects to be taught is somehow necessarily con-
nected with the janguage of the text-book. They have never tried
to disengage it from the particular forms into which some author has
molded it They use technical terms — and the worst of technical
terms — because they know no other. There is an almost servile
dependence upon the use of certain terms. And if the whole truth
were known, it might appear that the idea is not sufficiently mas-

456 OBJECT TEACHING.

tered to disengage it from the term. How can such a teacher do
otherwise than cling to authority ?

Yet the very essence of teaching lies in a living apprehension of
the subject itself — such an apprehension as will enable the teacher
to adapt his instruction to the child's real wants — just what a text-
book, if good, can not do. "Teach realities" is the true teacher's
motto. To this he commits himself; — nay, crosses the river and
burns the bridge. He is ashamed of his teaching if it is any thing
short of this. Hence, his ingenuity, his aptness, his versatility, his
varied resorts in an emergency. He can teach with a text-book, or
without it. A text-book in his hand becomes alive. It must be
understood.

Would you really know whether a candidate for the teacher's
office is a good teacher or not ? You need not examine him with
difficult questions in Arithmetic, in Algebra, in Geography, or in
History. You need not examine him at all. But put him into the
school-room, take from it every printed page for the use of the
teacher or pupil. Give him blackboards, — give them slates; Let
him have ears of corn, pine cones, shells, and as many other objects
as he chooses to collect, and then require him to give lessons in
reading, spelling, arithmetic, geography, and the English language.
If the children come home full of curious questions, — if they love to
talk of what they do at school, if at the end of a week you find
them thinking earnestly of their occupation at school, — deeply inter-
ested,— intent upon their school exercises, — then employ him, — em-
ploy him at any price, though he may not have graduated at the
University, the Academy, or even the Normal School. Whenever
needed, allow him or the children books. You are sure of a good
school.

How much is the spirit of that teacher improved who leads his
pupil directly to the fountain of truth, and pays willing homage to
it as truth ! Teachers may be divided in this respect into three
classes. The first are those who are servilely bound to a text-
book ; who are scarcely able to conceive a truth apart from the an-
cient term employed to express it ; wno never see it in its freshness ;
sticklers for exact verbal recitations ; formalists, not to say dogma-
tists ; inveterate advocates for authority, and firm defenders of what
they regard as a healthful conservatism in education.

The second are those who have so far broken away from the
trammels of methods and forms as to investigate the truth for them
selves; who taste its vivifying power, draw from its pure sources,
but who are anxious to promulgate and perpetuate, not so much

OBJECT TEACHING. 457

the truth, as truth, as their own opinions of it ; who would make
themselves the head of a party or school, having followers who think
as they think, believe as they believe, employ terms as they employ
terms, defend methods and forms as they defend them ; influential
they are and must be. They do good ; they are lights in the
profession.

The third class are those who are anxious, — not that their pupils
should see the truth just as they see it, but that they should see and
experience the truth itself; — solicitous, not to propogate views, but
living truth ; not the Rabbi who would reject the audible voice
from above, if not uttered first to the priest and through him to the
people, but rather Eli bidding the young prophet elect, about to
succeed him in office, to enter the audience chamber of the Al-
mighty to hear the voice for himself; — nay, Eli directing the boy,
his own pupil, to return with a faithful report of what he hears.

These are they who rise to the true dignity of the teacher's pro-
fession ; who lead their pupils into communion with nature, because
she unfolds the thoughts of the Eternal One; who reverence truth,
rather than the dogmas of any sect or party ; who aim rather to
render their own services unnecessary, than to restrain, for any
selfish end, a free access to the truth.

Such are some of the uses of Object Teaching in the broad and
true sense of the term. That any faultless system can be devised
to carry it out we may not hope. That all persons will be equally
successful in practicing it is too much to expect. That something
called Object Teaching has been tried and failed as, with the meth-
ods employed, it ought to do, no one denies. That some have pur-
sued a kind of Obiect Teaching, and have met with indifferent suc-
cess, is also conceded. It should never be the only exercise of the
school-room. It should never displace regular work, but rather
become a part of it. It should give life and zest to it. It should
never be made a hobby, or carried to an extreme. It should never
be used as an end. On this point Mr. Pickard, a member of the
committee, says : —

(1.) I fear that Object Teaching, as generally conducted, looks rather to im-
mediate than to less showy, but more valuable, results.

(2.) Its tendency, unless very carefully checked, is to make of children pass-
ive recipients, while teachers talk more than they instruct.

(3.) Carefully used, it will awaken to new thought, and will encourage to the
mastery of difficulties suggested or rather thrown in the way of pupils. But
only master minds can so use it. Not every school teacher has the power of
Agassiz.

(4.) And yet the nature of the child demands such teaching, and will not be
satisfied without it, though not by any means, as I conceive, to the exclusion
of other methods of teaching. Object Teaching is very good; but if it have no
object, it is thenceforth good for nothing but to be trodden under foot of men.

•468 OBJECT TEACHING

Again, object lessons should not be allowed to fall into a mere?
routine, or to follow implicitly the models of some text-book, and
not the leadings of the subject in question, gathering inspiration
from some incidental circumstance which may change the shape of
the lesson. They may often be made more apt and opportune by
^ome occurrence, as a thunder-storm, or the presence of some im-
pressive scene. They should be varied with every varying occasion,
varied in form, varied in matter, varied in the manner of giving
them, and cease as formal exercises whenever the pupil can draw
thoughts skillfully and successfully from the abstract statements of
a text-book.

There remains yet one subject to be considered. Shall children
never begin with the abstract ? Shall they never commit to mem-
ory forms which are beyond their comprehension ? These are fair
questions, and should be candidly and fairly answered.

We will not say, that in no case should such matter be commit-
ted to memory. It has been the practice for ages. Able and dis-
tinguished educators have advocated it. The custom of requiring
simple memoriter recitations prevails in many of our schools. Shall
it continue ? Or shall all intelligent and earnest educators enter
upon an important reform in this direction ?

The most strenuous advocates of 'this kind of teaching do not
claim that for intellectual purposes abstract statements are of any
material value till explained or illustrated, or till the mind of the
learner has grown up to them. They readily admit that, while
borne in mind by mere force of memory as words, they can yield
no immediate fruit. But they claim —

1. That such work furnishes the children something to do in the
way of private or solitary study between the hours of recitation, and
does much towards establishing early habits of study.

2. That the very act of committing to memory is a good disci-
pline for that faculty.

3. That the terse and well-considered statements of a good text-
book are better than any that the learner can substitute, and are,
therefore, good models of the use of language.

4. That, if held in the memory sufficiently long, these statements
will at length yield up their meaning, at first faintly, later along
more clearly, and finally with their full significance and breadth of
meaning.

5. That they are ever furnishing the child, ready at hand, sub-
jects for an intellectual struggle, being results which minds more
•mature than his have reached by processes of thought to which he
should always aspire.

OBJECT TEACHING. 45g

6. That the power to utter forms of thought at present not con-
•prehended inspires in the learner a most salutary habit of paying
<lue deference to authority ; of looking with veneration — even rev-
erence— upon the productions of the gifted minds both of our own
times and of the distant past, and that there can be no better cure
for flippancy and self-conceit.

To consider these points, which we hope have been fairly stated,
and to which we are inclined to give due weight, let us resume the
subject of conceptions or concepts, partially examined in a previous
part of this report.

When all the parts, attributes, marks, or qualities, etc., which
make up an individual object, are brought together into one whole,
we have a concept only in its depth or intention. If we give it a
name — which for the present shall apply to this one object alone —
the name calls up the conception, and we realize it by its form and
image. Let us call it a concrete concept. At an earlier period the
faculty of comparison is called into exercise. The understanding
begins to elaborate the material which the perceptive faculty has
received. The terrier with which the child has played so often re-
sembles others which he meets, in so many particulars, that he in-
stinctively applies the term terrier to each and all which bear the
characteristic marks of this species. But to do this he has sacrificed
so many individual characteristics, such as form, size, color, etc., that
the concept thus extended has lost its power of presenting to the
eye of the mind any individual of the species, and must continue so
•until to some one of the class the mind restores all the marks, quali-
ties, or characteristics which have been taken away — that is, ab-
stracted— from it. It extends to many individuals, but has deprived
each of many characteristic marks. The concept or conception,
thus considered, may be called abstract, and can not be realized by
form or image as before.

But the work of abstraction does not stop here. Deprive this
concept of a few of its marks, do the same with that of the spaniel,
the hound, the mastiff, the pointer, etc., and the remaining marks
unite in one higher concept, embracing each species directly and
each individual indirectly, and thus we have the one concept of
concepts, called dog. In a similar manner we rise to the higher
concept carnivora ; still higher to mammalia ; and so on to animal ;
till at length we end in thing or being. And here we have an ab-
stract concept of the highest order. Now it is perfectly obvious
that, at every stage of advancement in this hierarchy of concepts,
•what is gained in one direction is lost in the other. At every stage

460 OBJECT TEACHING.

the concept is more difficult to be realized. Almost any child
would shrink from the attempt to ascend the scale. And yet how
often children must use such terms as being, science, art, etc., if they
learn the definitions contained in books !

Now in the judgment of mature minds it is the peculiar merit of
a text-book or treatise, that it is comprehensive ; that is, that its
terms are so abstract as so embrace the whole subject. And to a
thoroughly disciplined mind, the test of an author's skill is his
nice adjustment of these abstract terms. Hence you hear the com-
mendation, " I admire the comprehensiveness of his rules and defi-
nitions." This is a commendation for any text-book. And that
which makes it so good for the scholar is what makes it so bad for
the child. He commits the beautifully comprehensive terms to the
memory, but nothing to the understanding, simply because he has
never been able to ascend the lofty scale of abstractions sufficiently
high to reach the meaning.

All philosophy unites in condemning the practice of descending
with children so deep into concrete forms as to draw out distinc-
tions and terms which belong to science. Such work should be
postponed.

What philosophy is that which would bid a child pass to the
other extreme, and bear in his memory for years the names of con-
ceptions which can be realized only by ascending through a contin-
ued series of abstractions ?

The true philosophy would seem to be to begin with the concrete
forms around us, and while we should be careful on the one hand
not to penetrate too deep in our search of individual attributes and
characteristics, we should be equally careful, on the other hand, not
to rise too high into the regions of abstract thought, but advance in
both directions as the growing capacities of the learner will admit.

With this aspect of our conceptions, let us examine the several
arguments for committing to memory abstract statements as yet not
understood.

That the committing to memory of such statements does furnish
employment for the children all will admit. That the employment
is a good one is not so clear. Yet it is better than none — always
preferable to unmitigated idleness. Ragged and hungry children
had better be employed in providing food and clothing for their
prospective wants at the period of maturity rather than be allowed
to roam the streets without occupation. But in looking upon their
present pressing needs, you could but exclaim at the misfortune
of their lot, when all around them the most attracting fields, with

OBJECT TEACHING. 461

rewards for present use, were inviting them to labor. So it is in
school. Children may be fully occupied upon concrete forms which
are fitted for present use, will contribute to their intellectual growth,
and will give zest and enjoyment at the same time, and aid them in
rising to the simpler abstractions.

As to the second argument, that the act of committing to memory
even words is an exercise of the memory. We admit it, but can
not call it a good one. How much better the exercise would be if
at the same time thoughts were understood ; how much more read-
ily the memory would retain the expressions themselves ; how much
more philosophical and natural the associations ; how much more
healthful the habits which would ensue ; and how needless the prac-
tice when the children can just as well be required to commit what
they understand !

In respect to the cultivation of language enough has already been
said. No more unphilosophical or ineffectual method could be
adopted than to force upon the memory even the choicest expres-
sions if they convey no thought.

It is true that mere expressions may be retained in the memory, —
and it is also true that they may, after a time, yield their appropri-
ate meaning, — but admitting this, how much better it would be for
children to commit to memory what they can understand, what will
administer to their present growth ! Besides, the habits of retain-
ing in the mind undigested expressions has, in one respect, a most
pernicious effect. The mind becomes hardened into a state of intel-
lectual indifference as to the meaning of words — a kind of mental
dyspepsia which it is extremely difficult to eradicate. Then, again,
instead of faint glimmerings of the true meaning, children are quite
as apt to attach to abstract expressions fanciful, inappropriate, or
absurd significations, which haunt and annoy them up to mature life.
In all this we refer to expressions wholly beyond their capacity.

The time will come when children must deal with abstract thought
presented in text-books ; when instead of passing from objects to
terms, from verities to statements, the order must be reversed ; they
must interpret terms, verify statements; in other words, draw
thoughts from books. And this is an important part of school
training. If wisely arranged, their studies will lie within their
reach. The thoughts, though abstract, will not be found so high in
the scale of conceptions as to be wholly beyond their capacity, —
though higher, it may be, than they have as yet ascended. Shall
they commit the statements of such thoughts to memory ? That is,
in preparing their lessons from books, if some passages shall not be

462 OBJECT TEACHING.

understood at the lime, shall they, notwithstanding, be learned for
discussion at the time of recitation ?

In many cases we should most certainly say yes ; not because, in-
trinsically, it is always the best thing for the learner, but from the
necessities of the case, and because the struggle for possible thought,,
with the assurance that ultimate victory is near at hand, is always
salutary. And here the skillful teacher will hold the problem before
the learner in such a way that the relief itself shall be the reward of
effort ; and this leads directly to the answer of the fifth point. The
struggle will be healthful only when the thought is within the pu-
pil's reach. Otherwise it will lead to discouragement or utter
prostration.

We come now to consider a point which is strongly urged, espe-
cially by those of a conservative tendency, — namely, that the masterly
thoughts of gifted minds, even though not understood, have the
beneficial effect of inspiring reverence for standard authority, and in.
checking shallowness and conceit. Be it so. These are qualities
that should receive the teacher's attention ; the one to be cultivated,,
the other suppressed. Every teacher should watch with jealous care-
all moral developments. But in a question of intellectual culture,,
let us not suffer any incidental issue to turn our thoughts from the
main question.

Children and adults will, on all sides, come in contact with both
the uncomprehended and incomprehensible. Providence has placed
us in the midst of the vast and the sublimely great. We can not
avoid being awe-struck and humbled. If, nevertheless, the young
will persist in their conceits, administer whole pages of Butler's.
Analogy, but do it, just as a physician administers colchicum, for
the purpose of depletion, — not to promote physical growth. In the
processes of teaching the young to comprehend thought, we should
never sacrifice time and strength by beginning with the highly ab-
stract and difficult. The principles on this point have already been
laid down.

We come now to the final question : — Does the plan pursued at
Oswego conform to these general principles ?

We answer unhesitatingly — in the main it does. It may not be
right in all its philosophy, or in all its practice. Whether the prac-
tice is better than the philosophy, or the philosophy than the prac-
tice, we will not pretend to say. Neither is it our object or purpose
to appear as champions of the system, to defend it against attacks,
or to cover np what is faulty. We simply appear to report it, and
our opinions upon it, so far as the examinations of one week will
enable us to do.

OBJECT TEACHING 46S

O8WEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT TEACHING.

But what is the Oswego system ? The schools of the city — a
city of some twenty-three thousand inhabitants — are divided into
four grades — Primary, Junior, Senior, and High — corresponding to
the Primary, Secondary or Intermediate, Grammar, and High schools
of other cities. Besides these grades, there is an unclassified school
continued through the year, to meet the wants of pupils who are not
well adapted to the graded schools ; and yet another kept in winter,,
to accommodate those who can attend only during that season.
Each grade is subdivided into classes named in the order of rank
from the lowest, C, B, A. Something like the object system was.
introduced in 1859. But in 1861 these peculiar features were more
fully developed. Previous to the last date the schools were in ses-
sion six hours per day. Since that time the daily sessions have
been shortened one hour in all the schools.

The peculiar system called the " object system " was introduced
at first into only the Primary grade. In 1861 it had gained so
much favor with the School Board, that a Training School was es-
tablished under the direction of Miss Jones, from the Home and
Colonial Institution, London. At present the system has reached
the Junior schools, and now prevails throughout the two lower
grades.

The Training School, which forms a prominent feature of the sys-
tem, is at present established in the Fourth Ward school building.
Besides the Training School, this building contains a city Primary
with its classes A, B, C, — a Junior A, B, C, and a Senior A, B, C.
Each Primary and each Junior school throughout the city is pro-
vided with a permanent principal and permanent assistant for each
of the classes. In the Fourth Ward schools, however, only one
tnt is permanently appointed. The place of the second as-
sistant is supplied from the Training School. The exercises in
these two grades are the same throughout the city, — except in the
building of the Training School, where additional exercises, here-
after to be described, are introduced. In this building, then, we
shall find the ordinary lessons in " Object Teaching," as well as the
peculiar lessons of the Training School. Let us enter any Primary
school at the beginning of the year, with the C class at the age of
five, fresh from home life, for the first time to enter upon school
duties. They come with their slates and pencils — and this is all.
Their first exercise is not to face the alphabet arranged in vertical
or horizontal column, and echo the names of the letters after the

464 OBJECT TEACHING.

teacher in response to the question, — " What is that ?" — a question
the teacher knows they can not answer, and, therefore, ought not
to ask. But some familiar object — one of the boys of the class, it
may be — is placed before them, and called upon to raise his hand — •
the class do the same. This is beginning with the known. Then
he is called upon to raise his right hand. This may be an advance
into the obscurely known ; the class do the same if they can make
the proper distinction ; if not, the first lesson marks clearly the dis-
tinction between the right hand and the left. Something real and
tangible is done. The children can now distinguish between the
right ear and the left ear, the right eye and the left eye. Here is
acquired knowledge applied.

But what of their slates? The teacher may first give a lesson —
practical, of course — on the use of the slate and pencil. Standing
at the blackboard, she utters the sound represented by some letter,
as t. The class utters it. They repeat it till the sound becomes a
distinct object to the ear. She then prints upon the board the let-
ter t. This becomes an object to the eye. She points to it and
gives the sound — they repeat the sound. She points again — they
repeat. She gives the sound — they point. Two objects are associ-
ated. Now in their seats the letter t is to be made upon their slates
till the next lesson is given. In this second lesson an advance is
made upon the parts of the human body, or another sound, — as the
short sound of a is given, then the character as before. Now the
two sounds are put together, — then the two letters. Two objects are
combined, and we have the word at. But before this lesson is given
the children go through with a series of physical exercises. Perhaps,
next, the whole class is sent to the sides of the room. Here is a
narrow shelf answering both as a table and a ledge to the black-
board. Under this are apartments containing beans. The children
take them one by one and count. They arrange them in sets of
two or three, etc. They unite one and one — that is, bean to bean
— one and two, etc. They take away one from two, one from three,
and so on. They now return to their seats and make marks upon
their slates to take the place of the beans. In short, this Primary
room is a busy workshop — not one idle moment.

One year .is passed in this manner. The children have learned
many useful lessons ; have mastered a set of Reading Cards ; — have
learned to spell many words involving the short sounds of the vow-
els and most of the consonants. They have lessons on form and
color; on place and size; on drawing, or moral conduct: and these
are changed once in two weeks.

OBJECT TEACHING. 465

They are now promoted to the B class. They commence reading
from the primer. They can write upon their slates and form tables.
They have object lessons more difficult and more interesting. They
can read the statement of the facts developed as they are drawn off
upon the board. They can write them themselves. They now
learn to make their own record of facts upon their slates. Their
written work is examined and criticised. They read their own
statements, and do it with ease and naturalness, because the
thoughts are their own. They learn to represent numbers with
figures. They make out numerical tables for addition and subtrac-
tion, not by copying, but by actual combinations with beans or
otherwise. They thus realize these tables. In short, a mingling
of object lessons with writing, spelling, reading, singing, physical
•exercise, adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, elementary
geography, and natural history, occupies their attention through
the first three years. All the lessons are given objectively. The
children realize what they learn ; and this is not the mere theory of
the system — it is, in the main, the actual working of the plan,
The schools are not all equally good. The teachers are not all
equally imbued with the spirit of the system. There were failures.
There were misconceptions of the objects aimed at, and misconcep-
tions of the method of reaching it. There were given lessons which
were superior, — even brilliant. Others were fair, — perhaps moderate.

In the Junior grade similar but more advanced lessons are given,
until the pupils are prepared for the Senior schools, where these pe-
culiar characteristics cease. As to the time occupied by these pe-
culiar lessons, — or general exercises, — it should be said that two ex-
ercises per day are given of from fifteen to thirty minutes each in the
Primary schools, and one only in the Junior. And yet be it re-
membered that all the exercises in the ordinary school work are
intended to be true object lessons.

Let us now pass to the Training School. Here, it should be
borne in mind, are regular Primary and Junior schools under per-
manent teachers, who act the part both of model teachers and crit-
ics before the members of the Normal School — or Training class.
The members of this class become alternately pupils and teachers,
known under the name of pupil-teachers. At the beginning of the
term they are assigned to act as assistants one half-day and as pu-
pils the other, alternating with each other during the term, so that
each may go through every exercise. The regular teacher gives a
lesson to the class. The assistants observe and mark the methods
•as models for imitation both as respects the steps in the lesson, and

466 OBJECT TEACHING.

the management of the class under instruction. One of the assist-
ants— a pupil-teacher — next gives a lesson. She is now under a
double criticism; first, from her equals — the other pupil-teachers
present ; and second, from the regular teacher. She is not doing
fictitious, but real teaching. She has not first to imagine that a
class of adults is a class of children, and then she is to give a speci-
men lesson. Nor has she a class of specimen children. She has a
class of children sent to school for real purposes, by parents who
entertain other views than to have their sons and daughters made
mere subjects for experimenting.

There is work under the feeling of responsibility, with all the
natural desire to succeed — nay, to excel. Under these circum-
stances, the merits or demerits of her lesson will be pretty surely
made known to her.

The superiority of this plan over any other for Normal training
is obvious. Some of these pupil-teachers evinced great presence of
mind and no little skill.

But now the scene changes ; these pupil-teachers return to the
room of the Training class, and their places are supplied by the
retiring set. In this room the theory of teaching is discussed, and
exemplified by practical lessons given by the Normal teachers to
small classes of children brought in from the Primary or Junioi
grades. These lessons are to be drawn off by the class and exam-
ined as illustrations of the theory. Then, again, a pupil is called
upon to give a lesson to a similar class, — while both the Training
class and teacher act as critics. The points of excellence and of
defect are freely discussed, and practical hints as to the method of
the lesson, its effect upon the class, etc., etc., are freely given.
Under this kind of training a most efficient corps of teachers is
prepared to fill all vacancies, and give increased vitality to the
schools throughout the city.

The system has been modified from time to time as new sugges-
tions have come up, or as theoretic plans have been tested. Farther
experience will undoubtedly result in other changes.

The lessons in the English language had some points of great
merit.

The habit of writing exercises by all the pupils every hour of the-
day can not fail to secure ease of expression with the pen. And
with the incessant care that is practiced at the outset by the teach-
ers to secure neatness and order in the writing, correctness in tho
use of capitals and punctuation marks, accuracy of expression and
faultless spelling, is laying a most excellent foundation for a high
order of scholarship.

OBJECT TEACHING. 467

The opportunity for cultivating correct habits of conversation,
which is afforded during the object lessons, does more than any
other one thing to promote a good use of language in speaking.
The children are uttering living thought and not text-book language.
Their own habits of of using words come out conspicuously, and are
made subjects of cultivation.

The more formal lessons in language were, in the main, admirably
conducted. Here the teacher made use of objects present, or the
conceptions of familiar objects absent, and accepted for the time
any or all of the various expressions employed by the pupils to
enumerate their ideas of the same action or event. Then came the
question of a final choice among them all. A box was moved along
the table, and the children gave — " The box moves, is pushed, is
shoved, slides, etc." A very large majority chose the expression
"slides?

Occasionally the sentences and forms of expression had a bookish
aspect, and lacked spontaneousness ; and there were enough of
these, if captiously seized upon, to make the method appear ridicu-
lous. So again expressions and terms were sometimes evolved,
which would not be out of place in a scientific treatise. These
were accepted of course. But if used too frequently, they would
seem like the coat of a young man placed upon a mere boy. These,
however, at most were but spots on the face of the sun. The whole
plan was admirable in theory and in practice.

The spelling exercises were multiplied and varied. The chil-
dren had regular spelling lessons. They wrote words upon the
slate. They wrote on the board. They spelled orally for the
teacher when she wrote, and they spelled on all occasions.

On the whole, the view which Mr. Camp, the Superintendent of
Public Schools for the State of Connecticut, a member of this Com-
mittee, gives of his observations on Object Teaching, were fully con-
firmed here. He says : — " Having had an opportunity to observe
the methods pursued in Object Teaching in Boston, Mass., Oswego,.
N. Y., Patterson, N. J., and at Toronto and Montreal, Canada, and
in connection with other methods in some other places, I will, at
your request, give the results as they appeared to me. Whenever
this system has been confined to elementary instruction, and has
been employed by skillful, thorough teachers, in unfolding and dis-
ciplining the faculties, in fixing the attention, and awakening thought,
it has been successful. Pupils trained under this system have
evinced more of quickness and accuracy of perception, careful ob-
servation, and a correctness of judgment which results from accurate

468 OBJECT TEACHING.

discrimination and proper comparisons. They have seemed much
better acquainted with the works of nature, and better able to un-
derstand allusions to nature, art, and social life, as found in books.
But when * Object Lessons ' have been made to supplant the use of
books in higher instruction, or when scientific knowledge has been
the principal object sought in these lessons, the system has not been
successful, so far as I have been able to observe the results."

In conclusion it should be said, that it is no small commendation
of the system, that all the ground formerly gone over in the two
lower grades is accomplished now in the same time, and that in
daily sessions of five hours instead of six. The plan renders school
life to the little children far less irksome than before. The teachers
generally, who have adopted and practiced it, give it their unquali-
fied approval, The Board of Education and their intelligent and
indefatigable Superintendent see no cause to return to the old meth-
ods, but, on the contrary, are more and more pleased with its prac-
tical working. That the citizens of a town, in former years not
specially noted for literary or educational progress, should from year
to year sustain and encourage it, nay, take an honest pride in in-
.creasing the facilities for carrying it forward, is proof positive that
it has intrinsic merit. And finally, that the State of New York
should make ample provision to support its Training School, shows
.that the thinking men of the State see in the system something
•more than mere tinsel and outward show.

OBJECT TEACHING.

BY E. A. SHELDON, OSWEGO, N. Y.

IN opening the discussion on this occasion, on what is sometimes
technically called " Object Teaching," I propose first very briefly to
state the principles upon which the methods thus indicated are
based. Secondly to consider some of the difficulties that lie in the
way of the progress of these reformed methods of teaching, and the
best way of removing them ; and lastly consider the true aim and
limit of these methods as applied to the development of the early
faculties of childhood.

We assume first that education should embrace the united, har.
monious development of the whole being, the moral, the physical,
and the intellectual ; and that no one of these should be urged for-
ward to the neglect or at the expense of the other. We likewise
assume that there is a natural order in the evolution of the human
faculties, and also of appliances for their development, a knowledge
of which is essential to the highest success in education ; that the
perceptive faculties are the first and most strongly developed and
upon them are based all future acquirements ; that just in propor-
tion as they are quick and accurate in receiving impressions, will
all the future processes of education and outgrowing attainments
be easy and rapid, and ever prove unfailing sources of delight ; and
hence they should be the first to receive distinctive and special cul-
ture. To this we may add that childhood has certain marked and
distinctive characteristics which should never be lost sight of in all
our dealings with children. Among the more prominent of these
are activity, love of sympathy, and a desire for constant variety.
In the natural order of subjects we recognize as first, mathematics,
including a consideration of form, size, and number ; second, physics,
including objects in nature, their sensible qualities and properties,
and third, language, including oral and written expression, reading
and spelling.

We have thus stated, as concisely as possible, the very first steps
in this natural order, upon which must be based all successful edu-
cational efforts ; for the limited time allotted to this paper reminds

470 OBJECT TEACHING.

us of the necessity of confining ourselves closely to the point under
discussion.

It would be not a little interesting to trace the natural relation
of these two orders throughout a complete educational course, nor
would it be entirely foreign to our subject; but this would lead us
into too broad a field of investigation, and be liable to divert the
discussion from the point particularly before us. We will not stop
now to consider in detail the method best adapted to the develop-
ment of the infant faculties, but will advert to them after consider-
ing briefly a few of the more prominent obstacles that lie in the
way of the most successful progress of these improved methods of
teaching. And in this connection we remark first, that the very
title by which these methods are popularly designated is open to
serious objection. It is true that the term "Object Teaching" is,
to a certain extent, suggestive of the real character of these early
processes, in that we are continually dealing with tangible objects
and illustrations, but it is liable to be taken in a too limited sense.
Instead of embracing a large number of subjects, and covering the
entire field of the early culture of the faculties, many have taken it
to mean nothing more than miscellaneous lessons on objects. These
lessons often clumsily given by those who have no knowledge of
correct principles, and who therefore continually violate them, have
led many to condemn the whole system, and thus in certain quarters
to bring it into disrepute. ,

Again, book speculators are continually making use of the term
as a catch word, for the purpose of disposing of their wares ; thus
imposing upo.n the uninitiated, and bringing into discredit methods
of which these books are the farthest possible from being the repre-
sentatives. In this way old books have received new title pages,
and new books with old methods have been christened with the
catch word, " Object Lessons," or " On the Object Plan ; " and what
is lamentable, multitudes know not the difference between the name
and the thing. In this way much mischief has already been done,
and much more is yet to be experienced.

Realizing these objections, some have proposed to change the
name, substituting a term more comprehensive and less liable to
objection. But this change of names will only subject publishers
to an additional expense of new title pages, and will not wholly ob-
viate the evils referred to. Our plan would be to drop all specific
names, and speak of all improved, natural or philosophical methods
of teaching as such, and let the great effort be to infuse right prin
ciples into the minds of teachers, to lead them to study the mental

OBJECT TEACHING. 471

moral and physical constitution of children, and the best method
of bringing this treble nature out in harmonious development. In
this lies our only hope of any substantial improvement in educa-
tional processes.

This leads me to consider secondly, as a serious obstacle lying in
the way of the proposed reformation, the ignorance of teachers
upon the points just referred to, and their disposition to study
methods rather than principles. Now, any proper system of educa-
tion must be based upon philosophical principles, upon a knowl-
edge of the natural order of development of the being to be edu-
cated, in his mental, moral and physical constitution, and the
corresponding appliances for promoting such growth ; and no one
can hope for success who does not clearly comprehend these prin-
ciples. The first effort then on the part of teachers should be to
study principles, and then the mode of applying them. The reverse
of this is the course now being pursued in this country. Teachers
are endeavoring to imitate models from books, rather than making
themselves first familiar with the principles upon which these
methods are based, and then using these models as aids in applying
them. The only remedy for this evil, as it seems to us, is the es-
tablishment of Training Schools for the professional education of
teachers. Not schools in which the branches are taught, but where
the whole aim and effort shall be to impart a practical knowledge
of the science of education and the art of applying it. In these
schools should be exhibited the highest excellence in the art of
teaching. There should also be schools of practice where the stu-
dents shall have abundant opportunity for applying the instruction
they receive, and the methods they observe.

Who would think of employing a man who never had any prac-
tice in carpentry to build the house he designed as a permanent
home for himself and his children, although he might be perfectly
familiar with all the books ever written on this subject ? We re-
quire that our mechanics have not only the rules of their trades,
but the practice, also, before we presume to employ them, and this
too even in the more unimportant arts. They must serve an ap-
prenticeship— a term that implies years of careful observation, study
<and practice.

They must not only become familiar with all the tools used in
their trade, and the exact use to be made of each, but they must
also become skilled in using them. And not only must the appren-
tice know his tools, and know how to use them, before he is en-
trusted with any important work away from the eye of his master.

472 OBJECT TEACHING.

but must also have a thorough and exact knowledge of the charac-
ter and composition of the materials used in his art ; their strength,,
durability, and solidity, that he may know how always to adapt
them to the exact place they are to occupy. Without this knowl-
edge the sculptor with a wrong tool, or the wrong use of the right
one, a little too heavy a blow of the mallet, or the artist with a
wrong pigment, or a wrong stroke of the pencil, may ruin his sub-
ject. The mechanic by the omission of a single brace, or the use
of a wrong timber, or one composed of weak, perishable material,
or by the putting together of materials composed of different pow-
ers of contraction and expansion, may ruin his edifice and endanger
many lives, or much valuable property. In view of these facts we
are all agreed as to the importance of a thorough apprenticeship in
all the mechanic arts and trades. In the professions too, in law,
medicine, surgery, a special professional education is deemed indis-
pensable. What intelligent person would employ a quack to tarn*
per with his own life or the lives and health of his family, or
entrust a case involving large interests in the hands of an unread
and unskilled lawyer? Who would entrust the amputation of a
limb to the hands of one not conversant with the anatomy of the
human frame, or unskilled in the use of the knife ? If then so
much importance is attached to the careful preparation of the vari-
ous artizans and men of other professions, for their work, (and no
one can say that its importance is over-estimated,) what shall be
said of the wickedness and folly of employing both ignorant and
unskilled hands to form and fashion this noblest of all God's crea-
tions— the immortal mind ! Is it that the mind is less intricate, or
of less importance than the body, that we have been in the habit
of entrusting its cultivation to the uneducated and untrained ? This
certainly can not be the reason. The one is like the grass that
springeth up in the morning, and in the evening is cut down, while
the other is immortal and is freighted with interests of the most
momentous character — interests linked with the destinies of man-
kind for time and for eternity. The human mind is composed of
elements the most subtle and complicated, yet capable of being
analyzed, and each assigned its appropriate place and function, as
also the order and method of its evolution. These faculties do not,
like the mineral, grow by accretion, but by their natural use ; and
ill-timed, or under exercise, or a neglect of the proper use at the
proper time, are alike prejudicial ; and no one has any right to un-
dertake the work of developing these faculties until he knows some-
thing of their real character, their functions, the order in which

OBJECT TEACHING. 473.

they manifest themselves, and the appliances best calculated to
develop them and give them strength.

No mistakes can be made here that are not serious in their char-
acter. As is a too heavy blow from the mallet, or a wrong use of
the pencil, or the use of the wrong material to the statue, the paint-
ing or the edifice, so a mistake made here, an undue strain of a
faculty yet weak, and but faintly developed, or the neglect of those
still in full and active vigor, if not fatal in its consequences, is due
only to the recuperative power of the mind to overcome injuries
inflicted.

A common error committed in Object Teaching is in converting
exercises that should be strictly for development, into instruction
in abstract science. Now the aim of all these early lessons should
be to quicken the perceptions, and give them accuracy, awaken
thought and cultivate language. To this end the senses must be
exercised on the sensible qualities and properties of objects; and
when the consideration of these objects goes beyond the reach of
the senses, then of course, the exercise ceases to be a development
exercise, and becomes either an exercise of the memory or of some
of the higher faculties. All these early lessons then should be con-
fined to objects, their parts, qualities and properties that come
clearly within the reach of the senses of the children, and no gen-
eralizations should include any thing more than such objects and
their qualities. Definitions should in no case go beyond the mere
description of the actual perceptions of the children. These points
we regard of vital importance, and that we may be clearly under-
stood, we will be a little more definite, and indicate just where we
would begin, and how far we would go in carrying out the leading ex-
ercises employed. In the theory we have presented, these should
consist of lessons on Form, Size and Number as belonging to math-
ematics ; of lessons on Objects, Animals, Plants, Color, and Place or
Geography, as belonging to Natural History, and lessons on lan-
guage, including oral and written expression, reading and spelling.

And here I trust I shall be pardoned for presenting my views on
these points in nearly the words of a report on this subject present-
ed last week at the Annual meeting of the New York State Teach-
ers' Association. In lessons in number the children should be held
long and closely to the simple combination of objects, and hence
must be confined to numbers that come fairly within the range of
the perceptions.

The lessons on Form should be confined to the observation and
description of some of the more simple and common forms in na-

474 OBJECT TEACHING.

tu:v. Here we must guard against abstractions; the mere memo-
rizing of definitions that go beyond the observations of the children.
As we have already said, definitions should be nothing more than
mere descriptions, a remark that applies equally to all kindred sub-
jects of instruction. The lessons on Size consist of nothing more
than the actual measurement of various objects and distances, and
the simple exercise of the judgment in the application of the knowl-
•edge thus gained.

In lessons in Color, the children may be led to observe, discrimi-
nate and name the leading colors and their tints and shades, and
apply them to the description of objects in nature. This will add
largely to their stock of language, and greatly aid them in their
future lessons. It is worthy of remark just here, that the deficiency
in terms to express in our language distinctions in color is one that
is deeply felt, and any effort at improvement in this direction should
receive our hearty encouragement. Beyond this the children may
be indulged in mixing colors, to observe how the various colors are
produced from the primaries, and finally their intuitive perceptions
of the harmony of colors may be called out. Not that any attempt
should be made to teach the scientific law underlying the harmony
of colors, but they simply observe that " certain colors look well
together."

In lessons on Place or Elementary Geography, the attention of
the child is confined to a consideration of that part of the earth which
he sees in his daily walks, its physical and industrial features, the
various grouping and relation of objects to each other and himself,
as a preparation for the consideration of what lies beyond his own
immediate neighborhood. In lessons on animals and plants we be-
gin by calling attention to the parts, position, and finally, uses of
parts. At the next step, in lessons on animals, the children are led
to consider something- of characteristics and habits, and finally of
adaptation of parts to habits. The children are continually exer-
cised in close and accurate observation, by means of specimens or
pictures, and to a limited extent from given or tangible facts and
phenomena, to draw conclusions, thus calling forth the, as yet,
feeble powers of reason. In some of these later lessons some little
knowledge of the natural history of the animals considered, is also
imparted. All these lessons are given on the more familiar quadru-
peds and birds, either those inhabiting the immediate neighhorhood)
or of which they have been made acquainted by information. Some
attention has also been given by the teacher to the order in which
these lessons have been oresented, grouping together, or rather giv-

OBJECT TEACHING. 475

IIILJ in succession, lessons belonging to the same class or order.
Thus far, however, the children have no realizing sense of any such
•design. After having gone over in this way with a few of the lead-
ing types of each order of mammals, they are led to associate
in natural groups or orders the animals that have constituted
the subjects of these lessons, aided by the knowledge they have ac-
quired of their characteristic parts and habits. These systematic
lessons, however, are confined to mammals and birds, as being more
familiar to the children. For variety an occasional lesson may be
given on a fish, an insect, a reptile, or a shell, those somewhat famil-
iar to the children, but a large proportion of the animals belonging
to these and the lower subdivisions of the animal kingdom are far-
ther removed from the child's immediate sphere of observation, and
therefore the basis of the classification is less apparent.

In " Lessons on Objects " proper, as distinct from " Lessons on
Animals and Plants," the first lessons should be on objects of the
most familiar character, and for a long time their attention should
only be called to the simple parts and their position. This involves
no use of difficult terms, but at the same time cultivates observa-
tion and the power of accurate expression. At the next step some
of the more simple and common qualities are added. At a further
step more occult qualities, requiring more close and careful observa-
tion, and such as are brought out by experiment, may be intro-
duced ; also, to a limited extent, the adaptation of qualities, mate-
rial or structure, to use, may be considered. At a still more advanced
stage, some information in regard to the objects considered may be
brought in, as also a simple classification of the objects and qualities
considered. In connection with all these lessons, the cultivation of
language should be made one of the leading points ; commencing
with the simplest oral expressions, leading on to written reproduc-
tions, and finally to consecutive narrative.

This leads us directly to a consideration of language, the subject
next in order. It was a favorite maxim of Pestalozzi, that " The
first object in education must be to lead a child to observe with
accuracy ; the second, to express with correctness the result of his
observations." Again, "ideas first, and language afterward."
That there is a natural connection between thought and speech,
observation and expression, there can be no reasonable doubt. Who
has not observed that children always seek a name for every new
object of discovery, and are never satisfied until they receive it?
It is, in fact, out of this necessity of our nature, that language has
rgrown up, expanded and enlarged, to keep pace with the growth of

476 OBJECT TEACHING.

ideas. Bacon has well said, " Men believe their reason to be lord"
over their words ; but it often happens too, that words exercise a
reciprocal and reactionary power over our intellect. Words, as a
Tartar's bow, shoot back upon the understanding of the wisest, and
mightily entangle and pervert the judgment."

Again, of what practical advantage would be the careful cultiva-
tion of observation, without a corresponding power of expression ?
Ideas unuttered are valueless to all but their possessor, but well ex-
pressed, they are a power to move the world. Like the ripple-
started on the surface of the placid lake, their influence is felt to the-
remotest shores of time. Now as observation is cultivated by care-
ful and constant use, so is language by the frequent expression of
ideas. But how is the child to acquire this power of language, or
what is the process and order of this acquisition ? This is an inter-
esting question, and deserves an intelligent answer. Here, as in
everything else, we must go back to nature, if we would make no-
mistakes. Observe then the child in his first utterances. His first
efforts at speech are to articulate the names of those persons, objects-
and actions, bearing the most immediate relation to his desires and
necessities ; the names of pa and ma, the articles of food and drink,
the different members of the household, and familiar objects about
him. Next in order come action-words.

Neither name nor action-words are as yet qualified, but these
quality words follow slowly along.

The third step is reached before the time of school life begins.
However, when the transfer is made from the nursery to the school-
room, this vocabulary must be enlarged to keep pace with the
growth of ideas. Observing then the order already indicated, we-
begin with the names of objects, the wholes and their parts. Next
come the names of the properties and qualities of objects, proceed-
ing, of course, from the most simple to the more difficult. But is.
it asked to what extent are these terms to be given ? We answer
most unhesitatingly, just so far as the child feels the necessity for
their use, and has the power to apply them. But it is objected that
" The use of words can not be long kept up or remembered by the
children, that are above the current language of the circle in which
they move."

We can say with that assurance that springs from careful obser-
vation and experience, that they are governed quite as much in the
application of these terms, and consequently in their familiarity
with them, by the necessity they experience for their use in the de
scription of objects about them, and in the expression of their per

OBJECT TEACHING. 477

•ceptions, as by the language of the home circle, or immediate asso-
ciates. To this may be added the fact that for five hours in the
day, and five days in the week, and this for several successive years,
they live in the atmosphere of the school-room, where these terms
.are " current language," and the children from the humblest homes
readily incorporate them into their own dialect. Were not these
facts, there would be poor encouragement for the teacher to labor
to improve the diction, manners or morals of the poorer classes.

The success of every good school located in such unfortunate
neighborhood, in elevating the children in all these points, is suffi-
cient to substantiate this position. On what other principle can we
account for the elevation of successive generations and races of men
above their immediate ancestors ? And how else can we account
for the growth of language ? We must depend upon the school to
exert a refining, civilizing influence, and that too above and beyond
the immediate " circle in which they move." Now in the language
of the masses of the people there is a great dearth of terms descrip-
tive of the properties and qualities of objects. How and where is this
defect to be remedied ? We answer emphatically, by the cultivation
of language in the schools. We have already stated that language
as the expression of ideas, bears an important relation to their de-
velopment and growth, and therefore that the two should be carried
on contemporaneously. We should, therefore, as we proceed with
the exercises in developing ideas, give the terms expressive of those
ideas, always using, however, those terms which are most simple,
and at the same time expressive of the perceptions to be indicated.
In all these exercises reference should be had to the mental status
of the children ; never giving any more than can be readily com-
prehended and appropriated. In these and all other school exer-
cises, the answers of the children should be incorporated into full
and complete expressions. As they advance they will take pleasure
in reproducing their object lessons on their slates. This should
always be encouraged, and should become a daily and regular exer-
cise. Where this course is pursued the children will early acquire
the power of easy and elegant diction, and readiness in composition.

The subject of reading is one surrounded with many difficulties.
These, it is the business of the teacher to so divide and classify as
to present but one difficulty at a time, and make the successive
steps easy and pleasurable to the child. The difficulties that meet
the young learner at the very threshold, are the number of differ-
ent sounds represented by the same character, the number of differ-
ent characters representing the same sound, the representation of the

478 OBJECT TEACHING.

same sound sometimes by one character and sometimes by another,,
and sometimes by a combination of characters, and the frequent
use of silent letters. To obviate these difficulties he should not for
a long time be confused with more than a single form to a single-
sound. With twenty-three characters and the same number of
sounds a large amount of reading matter, consisting of easy simple
words, may be given. It is better to commence with the small forms-
of the letters, as they are better adapted for general use. When,
the children become familiar with these, the capitals may be intro-
duced. Gradually new sounds may be brought in, and with them
new words. A few words may be learned as words, to enable us to-
fill up the reading matter. In connection with the Object Lessons,,
also, new words are being continually learned. By this process, in
which the children are able to help themselves at every step of their
progress, they ever find fresh delight. By a simple plan of classifi
cation, in which words of like anomalies are brought together, and
which the children at first dictate themselves, the work of spelling
is made one of the most pleasing, and animated exercises in the school-
room. These words are both spelled orally and written upon the-
slate. The plan we have suggested, of which we have been able-
only to give the merest outline, we have found a very rapid and
thorough one in teaching children to read and spell, and in its de-
tails strictly Pestalozzian.

We have thus briefly alluded to a few of the leading exercises,.
and the extent to which they should be employed in the develop-
ment of the early faculties of childhood, that our position may be
definitely understood, and for the reason that we believe them liable to
much abuse.

OBJECT SYSTEM OF INSTRUCTION

AS PURSUED IN THE SCHOOLS OP OSWEGO.

BY H. B. WILBUR, M D.

Superintendent of the State Asylum for Idiots, Syracuse, N. Y

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

IN consenting to the publication of the following paper, read before the Na-
tional Association of Teachers, at its last meeting, I am constrained, in justice
to myself, to prefix a brief statement of the circumstances under which it was
prepared.

Some two years since, I delivered an address before the New York State
Teachers' Association. On that occasion I gave some account of my own pe-
culiar work, the instruction of idiots. An4 as it seemed to me that my experi-
ence had some practical relations to the audience before me and to the topics
just then somewhat prominent in the minds of American educators, I ventured
to make the proper application. The "object system of instruction," so-called,
was referred to at some length, and I indulged in some passing criticisms upon
the peculiar methods of instruction adopted by the Home and Colonial Society
of England, which some persons were laboring to introduce into this country.

That I was not a conservative in an obnoxious sense in my educational views,
an outline of what was then said upon these two points will sufficiently show.

I attempted to set forth the doctrine, by implication rather than by any very
distinct enunciation, that there were two kinds of knowledge, the one which
may be styled natural and the other conventional. I remarked that the educa-
tion related to the former began where instinct ceases, and consisted of a judi-
cious ministering of the proper aliment to the intuitive powers. And I endeav-
ored to point out the true function of the teacher, in respect to this natural
education.

I then added that, as in point of time, so in harmony with the natural order
of development of the human faculties, was it fit and proper that the acquisition
of natural should precede that of conventional knowledge, and that the former
<vas the best foundation for the superstructure of the latter. The summary
statement of my argument upon the subject was, " that we should educate the
senses and through the senses, the intelligence and will, and then apply and
subordinate the engendered habits of accurate observation and the cultivated
intellectual activity and power to a proper method of acquiring the elementary
studies and their outgrowing attainments."

It seemed to me then that, if these views were correct, they had a twofold
application. In the first place, that our system of primary school instruction,
confining itself, as it had hitherto done, mainly to elementary studies of a cor
ventional character, should be modified by the introduction of a preliminai,)
class of exercises, designed especially to cultivate the faculties of observation.
That the elementary branches should be taught in such a manner as not to blunt
the perceptive faculties. Of course, the natural outgrowth of these two provis
ions would be, that the apparent acquirements of the school-room would repro
sent the actual mental power and knowledge of the pupils.

In the second place, sympathizing, as I have before said, fully with the aims
of those seeking reform in the principles and methods of elementary instruction,
I yet could not fail to see or avoid making an application of the principles I had
developed, to the correction of certain grievous errors some of these well dia-
posed friends of education had fallen into.

480 OSWEGO SYSTEM Of OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

J know how short is the usual school-attending period of the great mass of
the children for whom our school system is framed. Avoiding, therefore, all
educational scheming, I would have that system so sound in its principles, and
so judicious in its methods, that it may leave these children, on the threshhold
of the apprentice stage of life, with all their natural endowments so brought into
willing and active exercise by preliminary training, that nothing in the whole
world of relation, designed for their improvement or pleasure, should be thereafter
unappropriated ; that by its thorough drill in the strictly elementary branches of
learning, it should so furnish them with the keys to all educational knowledge,
that their future attainments should be limited only by the necessities of their
peculiar lot.

In noticing the English system of instruction mentioned, I dwelt mainly upon
what I then regarded as its error in the introduction of science at too early a
stage in the work of education, not only in the form of positive science, but in
the scientific aspect in which the common matters of daily life and observation
were treated, and also the abuse of language involved in their practice.

The errors into which I feared the over-zealous advocates of the " object sys-
tem " might fall proved to be no chimeras. An evil, which, with the respect I
felt for American teachers, I then deprecated as somewhat remote, has become
more imminent. A foreign educational scheme, partial, bigoted, and unphilo-
sophical, is now naturalized in the country, and its universal propagation de-
manded by zealous advocates. The " Oswego System " is the new impress that
is to give it currency on this side the water.

To increase the deception, the very text-books of the English system have
been brought over and (to the scandal of American publishers it must be con-
fessed) with no alteration, save a little upsetting and a turning wrong end fore-
most of here and there a section, have been issued as of American authorship.

Impulsive friends of education have somewhat indiscreetly indorsed it, by
speaking of Oswego as " the Mecca of American teachers ;" and of the move-
ment as " a reform which is welcomed by the best minds of the age, which has
been prophesied and prayed for by the best lights of other years."

Even some persons, who should have been more discriminating, looking only
at the motives of its partisans, have good naturedly given it a vague counte-
nance, as ladies sometimes give a "character" to a stupid or shiftless domestic,
who " means well."

Besides, in the State of New York, legislation has been successfully invoked
to establish a school for training teachers in the methods of a foreign school so-
ciety— of dubious reputation at home— outside of its Normal School, which is
supposed to have been created for the very purpose of educating teachers in the
most approved methods of instruction of every grade and wherever originating.

With these circumstances in view, when invited to prepare a paper for the
last meeting of the National Association of Teachers, on the " Object System,"
a sense of duty constrained me to accept. And I ventured on a discussion of
the subject which I knew must be inadequate, if for no other reasons, that I was
precluded from presenting the most obvious objections to the system, inasmuch
as I had done this on a previous occasion, and because also the invitation L re-
ceived from the Executive Committee of the Association rather limited me to a
half hour and which I endeavored not to transcend.

OSWEGO SYSTEiM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 481

THE OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

THE topic assigned me for the present half hour is the " Object
"System " of instruction. To avoid all misapprehension, I may say
at the outset, that I shall confine myself mainly to some thoughts
in connection with what is called in this country the " Oswego Sys-
tem." This is substantially a system of instruction transplanted
from England, and known there as the Home and Colonial Society's
system of instruction. The circumstances attending the adoption
of this foreign system on this side of the water need not be stated,
•except in the most general terms. The zealous Superintendent of
the public schools of Oswego, (whom I need not name,) in common
with many holding similar relations to the schools of other cities,
felt the need of some change in the methods of instruction prevail-
ing in the primary departments. The want he felt he thought well
supplied by the English system alluded to. With zeal and energy
he set himself to the task of introducing it in his own proper field
of labor. He has accomplished this — and more. We find the same
system now urged upon the friends of education everywhere for a
similar adoption. And so it comes fairly before a National Associ-
ation of Teachers for discussion.

It hardly need be said to those who are familiar with the history
of the educational reform, inaugurated in this country nearly forty
years ago, that the new want I have spoken of, as being generally
felt by a certain class, was not to be satisfied by the search for, or
the finding of any new principles of education.

The new problem offered to those interested was, how shall .we
apply, in the earlier stages of school instruction, most wisely and
most fruitfully, principles of education generally recognized and
•acknowledged in this country?

I say generally recognized and acknowledged in this country.
This is not too much to say, for here more than elsewhere — almost
only here — were sound principles and Methods of instruction gen-
erally prevalent. The reasons are obvious. The American mind is
unusually active upon educational subjects, for theoretically our re-
publican form of government is based upon universal education, and
an education not peculiar to a caste or rank in society. Again, the
great majority of our educated men have been practical teachers for
longer or shorter periods of their lives. Look for a moment at the
shistory of education during the period mentioned, a histoiy adorned

482 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

with the names of many eminent men. A history that furnishes
abundant evidence of much thought in the elucidation of principles
and in the devising of methods. Notice the machinery of the edu-
cational movement ; the essays and discussions, the public addresses
and the multiplied associations for mutual improvement ; the Teachers*
institutes and the Normal schools ; the literature of the profession of
the teacher embracing everything worthy of record, whether in the-
way of personal thought or individual experience, the world being
tributary; not forgetting the periodical contributions from every
quarter. Further, mark the resulting evidence of all this labor well
performed in the general public interest, in the judicious legislation,
and in the wonderful improvement in text-books. And again, notice
the light incidentally furnished by special systems of education.
The result of this general awakening in the public mind upon the
subject of education, I hardly need to say, though reaching to the
principles most fundamental, was not manifested by measures vio-
lent, hasty, or subversive. The reform kept step with the advance
of an enlightened public sentiment, if at times it were one step ii>
advance. It were well if the future waves of improvement in the
same direction should roll as quietly and steadily forward on the-
shores of coming time.

But a graded system of school instruction brings out a new want.
A large class of children are brought together, with little or no-
previous instruction, and almost too young for the continuous atten-
tion and thought required to master the elementary branches of the-
school-room, as taught in the ordinary way. They are deprived of
those educational influences that so pervaded the atmosphere of the
school-room of mixed grades and which insinuated themselves into
every avenue to the active mind of childhood. They are now de-
pendent for improvement upon the exercise of their own intuitive
powers and upon the resources of the teacher.

We need not stop to discuss the question, whether, viewed in re-
lation to the proper orderly and harmonious development of their
faculties, these children should be in school at all, thus early, for in
school they are. And so it happens, that under the new circum-
stances, that which should be the work of nature, is brought within
the function of the teacher, and accordingly new topics and method*!,
of instruction must be introduced. It hardly need be pointed out
with what extreme diffidence we should approach any task that in-
volves any interference with nature's methods, or how zealous should
be the endeavor when such interference is necessitated to follow her
analogous teachings, and how promptly we should cease our inter-

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 483

ference at the first moment practicable. The natural channels to
the pupil's mind are first to be opened before they can be used for
receiving or imparting instruction. Again, the natural avenues are
to be used before what may be called the conventional ones are
brought in requisition. And so the powers of observation and
speech (or spoken language) are to be cultivated before any positive
instruction in reading and writing is attempted. Cultivated it should
be remembered for purposes and ends mainly practical and discipli-
nary. Has it occurred to those of you who have seen blind chil-
dren spelling out with busy fingers and delighted faces the page of
raised letters and thus receiving food for their active minds through
a channel wrought out for them by the agency of a sense perverted
from its legitimate function, that in teaching ordinary children to
read from the printed, or written page, the same thing is substan-
tially done ; that is, the eye is made to perform the natural office of
the ear — that a new gift is imparted.

One result of bringing together children of the same grade is, to
bring out more distinctly the class mental peculiarities, the class
educational needs, and so more obviously the proper modes of meet-
ing those needs. I have elsewhere stated, in a summary way, my
idea of the scope and aim of a proper elementary education, which
I will venture to reproduce. " That we should educate the senses
and through the senses, the intelligence and will, and then apply and
subordinate the engendered habits of accurate observation and the
cultivated intellectual activity and power, to proper methods of ac-
quiring the elementary studies and their outgrowing attainments."

In seeking to accomplish the ends thus defined, the main reliance
of the educator is upon a proper study and comprehension of the
characteristics of childhood, the natural order, mode, and rate of
development of the childish faculties. The proof of this is furnished
by recalling any synoptical statement of the principles of education,
and noticing how many of them relate to these very points. It is
of importance to remember this because much time and labor have
been lately wasted in devising methods of instruction based upon
foundations merely speculative, and some injury done by attempting
to put these methods in practice. I may illustrate this by citing
two or three forms of theoretical error in this regard representing
quite a diversity of opinion — all " idols of the cave."

The first of these is a method based upon a theory that every
child must "rediscover for himself the truths and results to be ac-
quired in each department of knowledge undertaken by the learner,"
and the corollary from this, " that no truth or knowledge which is-

484 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

in its nature a consequent on some other truths or knowledge can
by any possibility be in reality attained by any mind, until after
that mind has first secured and rightly appreciated those antecedent
truths or knowings." This involves, it will be observed, a form of
instruction always absolutely synthetical. This is partially true
— true as far as intuitive education is concerned and true no
farther.

Another error, not unheard of by this Association, is a theory
that there is a rational order of development in the course of the
sciences, and that it ought to be followed in common education ;
for the reason that it is claimed that this order of succession in the
sciences corresponds precisely to the order of evolution of the fac-
ulties. Now this is an assumption based upon the most fanciful
analogies, but as I find it asserted with great emphasis, in a report
to which my own name is signed, I leave it for others to deal with.

One other theory deserves a passing notice. It will be found
elaborated by Herbert Spencer and cropping out quite generally in
the essays and discussions that have since appeared upon educa-
tional topics. After admitting the distinction between education
as relates to discipline and to the value of the knowledge acquired,
he at once assumes that what is best for the one end is also best for
the other. He then proceeds to develop a scheme for education
based upon the relative and practical uses of knowledge. If his
•course of reasoning proves anything it proves that physiology
should be the first study of childhood, then the means of getting a
livelihood, then the treatment of offspring and the government of
•children, and finally the study of social science.

Let me now examine briefly the mode in which the Oswego Sys-
tem aims to accomplish the ends I have supposed. To be sure it
claims to be more than a system of Primary School instruction. It
.claims to be the only correct system for any stage of education.
"That if adopted, it will lead to a complete revolution in our meth-
ods of teaching in this country," (where it is asserted " we have
never had any system based on sound philosophical principles,) as
also in the profession of teaching itself, or rather it will make teach-
ing a profession — a title it has yet to earn."

In making a somewhat hurried preparation for the part assigned
me on this occasion, I have spent some time in the examination of
the various manuals designed for the instruction of teachers in the
new system. I confess the result has been somewhat discouraging.
The principles laid down are somewhat contradictory in their char-
acter. They are wanting in definiteness, and, most of all, they are

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 485

so enveloped in the voluminous details of methods, that it is difficult
to discover the distinctive features, and somewhat confusing to one
attempting to discuss them.

Referring then to the Oswego manuals, I find first a statement of
what are called Pestalozzian plans and principles. On examination, I
find that some latitude has been used in applying the term Pesta-
lozzian. Transmutation as well as translation will be seen in their
treatment of the great reformer. It may be remarked of these gen-
erally, that whatever of them are sound have not the claim of nov-
elty to American teachers, and what are new of no value, if not
leading to positive error.

1. Activity is a law of childhood. Accustom the child to do — educate the
hand.

2. Cultivate the faculties in their natural order — first form the mind, then
furnish it.

3. Begin with the senses, and never tell a child what he can discover for
himself.

4. Reduce every subject to its elements — one difficulty at a time is enough
for a child.

5. Proceed step by step. Be thorough. The measure of information is not
what the teacher can give, but what the child can receive.

' 6. Let every lesson have a point, except in junior schools, where more than
one lesson is required before the point is reached, each successively tending to-
wards it.

7. Develop the idea — then give the term — cultivate language.

8. Proceed from the known to the unknown — from the particular to the gen-
eral— from the concrete to the abstract — from the simple to the more difficult.

9. First synthesis, then analysis — not the order of the subject, but the order
of nature.

Let us examine these principles briefly.

" 1st. Activity is a law of childhood. Accustom the child to do
— educate the hand."

It will be observed, first, that there is an implied restriction of
this law of childhood to his physical system. Of the second clause
— should it not rather be said, let the child do. Let him use not
only his hands, but his physical system generally. The distinction
between letting the child do and accustoming him to do, at this
early stage, is an important one, and is related (if activity is a gen-
eral law of childhood) not only to physical actions, but also to the
senses and the faculties which act spontaneously on the presentation
of their proper objects. Should not a system of so much pretension
direct us wisely here on the very threshhold ?

" 2d. Cultivate the faculties in their natural order — first form the
mind, then furnish it."

The truth enunciated here is older than Pestalozzi; and may be
found in some form or another in half the works on education pub-
lished in this country during the last thirty years. As to the second

486 O8WEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

clause, one might naturally ask, is it a corollary from the first? or
only meant as a reiteration ? or what ?

" 3d. Begin with the senses, and never tell a child what he can
discover for himself."

What is the designed relation between the two clauses of this
rule ? Must we never tell a child what he can discover for himself?

" 4th. Reduce every subject to its elements — one difficulty at a
time is enough for a child."

This seems a harmless proposition. But the practical inferences
in the way of method, that the manuals are full of, gives it another
aspect.

" 5th. Proceed step by step. Be thorough. The measure of in-
formation is not what the teacher can give, but what the child can
receive."

Would not these directions indicate that the process of education
is not always and strictly a development exercise, in which the child
is the main actor ?

" Vth. Develop the idea — then give the term — cultivate language."

If this rule were designed only to enforce the truth that ideas
should precede language, no comment would be necessary. But
herewith is connected one of the most vicious methods of the Os-
wego System. In the light of their practical teachings it means
that with the idea the term must be invariably connected ; that the
observation and language must be inseparably connected. And it
is assumed that when the idea is mastered, there is no difficulty in
retaining the appropriate term on the part of the pupil.

It is claimed that the peculiar phraseology of the summary is
strictly a resultant of the workings of the class mind. And so we
find in connection with each lesson, or series of observations, the
W. B. (writing on the board) and the S. R (simultaneous repeti-
tion) to fix in the pupil's mind the set phrase and the stereotyped
formula that the teacher furnishes as the summary of the particular
class exercise.

But the partisans of the Oswego System, or their progenitors in
England, were not the original sinners. It was precisely here where
Pestalozzi went so grievously astray from his own early principles,
as to draw from one of his cotemporaries the remark, that "he
kicked over with his feet what he built up with his hands." And
these very practices of his have been discarded by intelligent edu-
cators everywhere, even when professedly following the doctrines of
the German school.

" Observation (said he) is the absolute basis of all knowledge.

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 487

The first object, then, in education must be, to lead a child to ob
serve with accuracy ; the second, to express with correctness the
result of his observations." There is abundant evidence from his
works that he did not mean by this, that observation should be the
principal object of instruction at its earlier stage and language at a
later period. The English and Oswego disciples have faithfully
copied the defects of their master.

Now is it necessary to affirm in this presence, that language has
absolutely nothing to do with observation as far as it concerns the
pupil ? That the observing powers are exercised for a long period
in childhood before the gift of language is received, and that the
child not only uses the senses, but discriminates, compares, reasons,
judges, decides, and wills in connection with such use of the senses,
and all this without the use of any language ?

But the time comes when language is necessary for the express-
ion of wants and ideas, and then it is given. In the roll of educa-
tion the teacher avails himself of this natural gift, this child-language,
to test the progress of the child, and so it is properly connected with
observation and with the growth of ideas.

Again, a period comes when language which has been acquired in-
tuitively, and without any conscious effort on the part of the child,
may be properly a subject of positive instruction, by methods so
wisely suggested in the opening address of the President of this As-
sociation ; for when the higher and reflective powers of the mind
are brought into active exercise, language precise and adequate be-
comes necessary as the means of thought.

Language (let me repeat again) which in the infancy of the indi-
vidual, as well as that of the race, is a mere means of expressing the
immediate wants of the individual or the race in its then condition ;
expands not only commensurately with increasing desires, but ab-
solutely acquires another function ; that is, as the instrument of
higher, continuous, and abstract thought; and this fact, or the
growth of language to meet social needs, suggests the principle that
should oftiide in the introduction of language, as an exercise in the
school-room. I have on another occasion referred to this topic an«l
so I can only hint at the dangers of thus early and intimately con-
necting the study of language with the development of tne faculties
of observation. The thing signified is lost in the effort to remem-
ber the sign. Have you not all seen a bright boy in a class, wha
could and would answer almost intuitively a question in numbers
like the following, hesitate and stammer, grow confused and fail, in
attempting to cloak the fully comprehended truth in the long syllo-
:gistic formula required of him by the teacher ? Thus —

488 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

If 2 bunches of matches cost 4 cents, what will 4 bunches cost ? The pupil
repeats the question and gives the solution.

If 2 bunches of matches cost 4 cents, what will 4 bunches cost? 1 bunch of
matches will cost one-half as much as 2 bunches of matches. If 2 bunches of
matches cost 4 cents, 1 bunch of matches will cost one-half of 4 cents, which are
2 cents. 4 bunches of matches will cost 4 times as much as 1 bunch of matches.
If 1 bunch cost 2 cents, 4 bunches will cost 4 times 2 cents, which are 8 cents.
Therefore, if 2 bunches of matches cost 4 cents, 4 bunches of matches will cost
8 cents.

The very tendency of formulated language is to routine. The
foundations of the childish memory and the childish principle of
association are upset, and the natural observation of childhood en-
tirely devitalized. But an illustration, furnished by the same mas-
ter-hand that gave us the Yorkshire boarding-school, will answer
my purpose better.

No teacher before me, who has read Dickens' " Hard Times," will
fail to recall the following scene : —

Mr. Gradgrind, the town magnate and school patron, is present in the model
school of his own creation, where Mr. McChoakumchild surcharges the youthful
Coke-towners with grim facts. After a preliminary address to the teachers in
this vein —

"Now what I want is facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but facts.
Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything,
else. You can only form the mind of reasoning animals upon facts ; nothing
else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle upon which I
bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these
children. Stick to facts, Sir I"

Having thus relieved himself, that his self-love may be gratified by witness-
ing the triumphs of his own educational scheming, he calls out, by an appropri-
ate management and catechising, its distinctive features.

Sissy Jupe, Girl No. 20, the daughter of a strolling circus actor, whose life,
no small share of it. has been passed under the canvass ; whose knowledge of
horse, generic and specific, extends back as far as memory reaches ; familiar
with the form and food, the powers and habits and everything relating to the-
horse ; knowing it through several senses ; Sissy Jupe has been asked to define
horse. Astonished at hearing her father stigmatized as a veterinary surgeon, a
farrier and horse-breaker ; bewildered by the striking want of resemblance be-
tween the horse of her own conceptions and the prescribed formula that repre-
sents the animal in the books of the Home and Colonial Society, she dares not
trust herself with the confusing description, and shrinks from it in silence and
alarm.

"Girl No. 20 unable to define a horse," said Mr. Gradgrind. Girl No. 20 i»
declared possessed of no facts in reference to one of the commonest of animals,
and appeal is made to one red-eyed Bitzer, who knows horse practically only
as he has seen a picture of a horse, or as he has, perhaps, sometimes safely
weathered the perils of a crowded street crossing.

"Bitzer," (said Thomas Gradgrind,) "your definition of a horse!"

"Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth, namely: twenty-four grinders,
four eye teeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the Spring ; in marshy coun-
tries sheds hoofs too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age-
known by marks in mouth." Thus (and much more) Bitzer.
. "Now Girl No. 20," said Mr. Gradgrind, "you know what a horse is."

The features of a school system thus graphically described are the
features of the Home and Colonial Society's system, and I regret to
say that what is known in this country as the Oswego System is its
dneal descendant.

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 489-

That this is no misrepresentation (see lessons on objects, page-.
97.)

LESSON TWENTY-THIRD.
jl Lady Bird.

Ideas to be developed — hemispherical, fragile, jointed.

Parts. Qualities.

The head Tt is animal.

" eyes Natural.

" feelers or palpi Hemispherical.

" horns or antennae The wing cases are red.

" wings Spotted.

" wing cases or elytra Bright.

" thorax Hard.

" legs The wing cases are brittle.

" body Opaque.

" back Stiff.

" spots The outside is convex.

" surface The inside is concave.

" claws One margin straight.

The other curved. •
The wings are membranaceous,
pliable,
thin,

transparent,
" fragile.

The body is oval,

" black.
The legs -are jointed,
short,
black.

The lesson above cited is one of a large number sketched for the-
use of teachers ; all models for still others of a similar character to
be framed as they shall be needed, and designed to cover the whole
period of school instruction. Is such endless repetition of obvious
qualities a natural and nourishing food for the childish mind ? Will
it never tire of such thin gruel of utilitarianism ? And looking at
the real object of a public school system as our own, supported from
the public treasury, designed to obviate the accidents of birth or
fortune, by placing the keys of knowledge in every youthful hand, is
such chaff a substitute for a thorough grounding in the elementary
branches ? is it a good preparation, even, for the same ? But con-
ceding that these exercises accomplish the end for which they were
designed, is it not a cultivation of the perceptive faculties too exclu-
sive, and at the expense of the other powers of the pupil ?

It is claimed, however, that thus are laid the foundations for a
future structure of science ; that we ascend from form to geometry,
from place to geography, &c., <fec. Than this nothing can be more
mistaken. Perceptions of form and color are quite distinct from,
geometry and chromatography. Language is one thing, and the
science ofgrammai quite another.

490 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

That scientific and technical language is prematurely introduced
in the methods adopted at Oswego, no one can question who visits
the Oswego schools. One hears little children, not two weeks un-
der instruction, taught that certain parts of a sheep (or the picture
of a sheep) are " principal," others u secondary," and some " char-
acteristic." One hears from infant mouths such terms as " grami-
niverous and chalybeate, iridescent and amorphous, serrated and fo-
liaceous, imbricated and indigenous." Children there are taught
not only to discriminate, with the eye, the various shades and hues
of color, but loaded down with such terms as hyaline, watchet, laz-
uline, indigene, carneline, rosine, coraline, venetia, morone, salmo-
nine, peachine, and magenta.

The 9th and last principle laid down is the following : — " First
synthesis, then analysis — not the order of the subject, but the order
of nature." I leave for others to discuss the first clause of the rule.
I may venture this inquiry, however. If it be true " that all intelli-
gent action whatever depends upon the discerning of distinctions
among surrounding things," does not this principle require that
analysis should be the first step in the work of education ? And
further, as one examines the specimen lessons in the Oswego text-
books, even, does it not appear that so far as the exercise of the
observing faculties is properly conducted, it is pure analysis, while
the mere framing of the definition or the formulated summary can
only be called synthetical.

The last clause, (" not the order of the subject, but the order of
nature,") whatever its supposed relation to the former, contains an
important truth which I would thus interpret. All subjects should
be presented to a child in view of the order in which his faculties
are developed ; in connection with his already existing ideas, as
they may be indicated by the form in which his curiosity manifests
itself, or otherwise, that they may be retained by some principle of
association ; and also in relation to their practical value and uses,
as acquirements and discipline, for the time being. And contrari-
wise, they should not be presented in relation to any assumed order
of knowledge or any scientific arrangement or classification. (I am
speaking now especially of those subjects which, in the primary
school-room and in the case of young children, should precede and
furnish the foundation of what are ordinarily regarded as the ele-
mentary studies.) Scientific names, definitions and classification are
designed for a special and practical purpose; and that purpose,
manifestly, not related to the instruction of infants or the early his-
tory of our race. A young child (and for that matter the savage)

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OB'ECT INSTRUCTION. 491

has no practical use for science and therefore does not need its
technicalities. What he does need are words, figurative expressions,
or a classification connected in a living way to his senses, his ob-
servation, his experience, the range of his reasoning powers, and by
the use of which he can remember, reproduce, or communicate to
another his sensations and ideas.

The scientific mode should be reserved for a later period of in-
struction, when science, as such, has, by the development of the
pupil, acquired a practical value.

For modern science, be it remembered, (and herein it differs from
the older forms,) is, from its very nature, far removed from the range
of a child's observation, and has no obvious relations to the little,
every-day world in which he lives and moves. It is based upon
structure and organs, and unobvious, and to the child, unimportant
properties, and includes, what Spencer has called, " completeness of
prevision." And though there are certain external features which
•ordinarily indicate, to the eye of the expert, the peculiarities of in-
ternal structure, yet the connection can not be appreciated at an
•immature age.

So true is this, that I find a modern writer of great logical acute-
ness thus expressing himself: —

Science, as I shall afterwards have occasion to illustrate, is painful from the
necessity of dis- associating appearances that go naturally and easily together, of
renouncing the full 'and total aspect of an object by which it engages agreeably
the various senses, and of settling upon some feature that has no interest to the
common eye.*

I have ventured to elaborate what seemed to me to be the truth
-contained in the clause under discussion. But that this is not the
interpretation of it adopted by the advocates of the Oswego System
may be seen by referring either to a single model lesson, or to the
•general method of treating a particular subject. Take, by way of
illustration, almost the first lesson in the manual. It is a develop-
ment exercise to cultivate the powers of observation. The children
are first told that paper is artificial, that it is made of linen rags,
that linen is made from the stem of a plant called flax. They then
observe its obvious qualities ; they are next supplied with the terms
pliable, translucent, inflammable, <fcc.

But one must not stop upon individual lessons, but take subjects.

What I am now about to say is related also to principle No. 4 —
" Reduce every subject to its elements."

Take the method of teaching reading. If one takes up a printed
•page it may be resolved into lines, these lines into words, the words

* Bain. "The Senses and Intellect."

492 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

into letters, (to say nothing of points,) the letters into combination
of forms, that may be further classified as straight lines and curved,
perpendicular and horizontal. As related to the printer's art, this
may be called reducing the subject to its elements, or following the
order of the subject.

Again, the words on the page (which is speech represented to the
eye) represent a variety of combinations of sounds, which may be
resolved into their elementary sounds ; these into classes as atonicr
sub-tonic, &c. ; and still further according to the position of the
vocal organs in producing these elementary sounds. This may be
called reducing the subject to its elements, or following its order.

If our language were strictly phonetic, these two classes of ele-
ments could be, in some degree, approximated, and thus the art of
reading, as an art, could be acquired without any great waste of
effort on the part of the learner, particularly an adult learner. But
this is not true. The number of elementary characters does not
correspond to the number of elementary sounds. The forms of the
characters have no actual or symbolic relation to the sounds.

Custom has also sanctioned a variety of form in the same letters.
These have each been provided with a name conventional and arbi-
trary, sometimes resembling its power in composition, and some-
times not.

Furthermore, to increase the perplexities, the same sounds are-
represented by different letters and combinations ; and these last do-
not uniformly represent the same sound. So that our language is
irregularity run wild. The rule is the exception and the exception
is the rule.

Now the method of the Home and Colonial Society (and the Os-
wego plan is but little better) brings the child, face to face, with this-
mountain of difficulties, and on the plea of reducing every subject to-
its elements, picks up each individual difficulty, one at a time, and
throws it a stumbling-stone at the feet of the pupil. With fatigu-
ing exercise, perhaps, the whole ground may be at last stumbled
over. Listen to the role and judge.

The pupils are first taught to distinguish by the eye all the Ro-
man capitals ; next, to distinguish clumsy imitations of these, a&
many as can be formed by combinations of straight lines ; and then
similar imitations of the remainder formed by straight lines and-
curved. A similar plan is now adopted in teaching the forms of
the smaller letters. The pupils are practiced in repeating the forty,
more or less, elementary sounds of the language. They are lead to-
notice the position of the organs of speech in making these sounds..

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 493

At tlii? stage (First Step — pupils between four and five years of age)
they are encumbered with the application of the terras, " tonic, at-
onic and sub-tonic," &c., to the sounds in question.

They are taught to form uncouth imitations of the spurious capi-
tals, before mentioned, with pieces of lath ; then to print them on
the slate. Then comes the learning of twenty-six arbitrary names
of letters and connecting these with the same number of conven-
tional forms. The same course is pursued with the small letters.
The pupils are next exercised in the sounds of the vowels and dip-
thongs; not, however, their power in composition. They are
taught to spell classes of words of one syllable. Only at this point
do any proper exercises in reading (or in fact in learning to read)
begin ; and even then these are in accordance with a somewhat
clumsy phonic method.

It is claimed for this plan, the stupidity of which no description
can fully portray, that it " puts the child in possession of a key by
which he is able to help himself — a very important principle in ed-
ucation." A hundred such keys will leave a child groping and
knocking at the door of our written language, in which the sound
too is spelt three different ways and ough stands for half its vowel
sounds.

All this is done, as it is supposed, to carry out a principle as-
cribed to Pestalozzi ; that the work of the educator should be ana-
lytical and that of the learner synthetical.

This is what they propose to do theoretically. Meanwhile, how-
ever, the pupil, in spite of this attempt to hamper his feet with the
intricacies and perplexities of our language, has been covertly mak-
ing his way by a more direct, natural, and easy route to the same
end. In this respect the child has shown himself wiser than the
master. By the aid of a memory which can only be characterized
as " adhesive " in the extreme, he has been quietly learning words
as words, on the blackboard, on the lesson cards, and in the text-
book of the school-room. He has been classifying words in accord-
ance with his own principle of association, to assist his memory
when its mere adhesiveness has failed ; and now noting their resem-
blances and differences, he has analyzed them for himself into their
elements and thus learned the powers of letters in composition. In
short, he has grasped the idea of the sole object of learning to read,
and directed his steps by the shortest route to that end.

Years ago I read in Emerson's "Schoolmaster" that the best way
of learning to read was to let children learn words first and after-
wards the letters of which they are made; and why? because "this

494 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

is nature's method." I can not stop to outline this word-method
by showing how completely it follows the order of nature.

I will call your attention now, briefly, to the Oswego method of
teaching drawing. It commences from combinations with two
straight lines, then with three, and so on up to seven or eight.
Then combinations with four right and two acute angles, then with
obtuse angles. Combinations with four rectangular triangles.
Combinations with the various quadrangular figures. Then combi-
nations with the various curves. This is all elementary to geometri-
cal drawing. This doubtless has its uses. This is better than no
instruction in drawing, perhaps.

But that this is not the way to teach drawing as an art, or for the
practical and pleasurable uses which render its acquisition desirable,
I think that the great mass of experts will agree. Spencer speaks
of an elementary drawing-book, on a similar plan, as most vicious,
in principle, as only " a grammar of form with exercises." Ruskin
is equally emphatic in recommending an entirely different course.

The same regard to the order of the subject and disregard of the
order of nature is seen in the selection and arrangement of topics
for the object lessons ; in the scientific tone that pervades the whole
series, and in the early introduction of science (distinctly) into their
educational course ; as if this were unavoidable in attempting to
impart any useful knowledge to the child.

The late Archbishop Whately disposed of this opinion epigram-
matically by asking, " Can not a child be taught that a nettle will
sting without being taught the science of botany ?"

That these are not unwarranted criticisms on the Oswego methods,
let me appeal to the manuals in which they are embodied. The
extracts illustrative of methods may be appropriately introduced by
a few sentences selected either from preface or introduction, some-
what in the form of precepts.

" The design of this work is to present a definite course of elementary instruc-
tion adapted to philosophic views of the laws of childhood."

'* It would seem too obvious to require an argument that every teacher " —
(and for that matter, it might have been added, every superintendent of public
schools and each school-book compiler) " should clearly comprehend the char-
acter of the infant mind and its mode of operation."

That a proper lesson " should equally avoid detailed information, on the one
hand, and on the other, mere general notices, such as constitute a table of con-
tents or heading of a chapter."

" That it is important, as far as possible, to give the children a good deal of
latitude; and let the discoveries be their own, except as they maybe guided in
part by the teacher."

" Those who fall into a mechanical way of giving such instruction and do not
perceive the principle involved, completely defeat its intention and they had far
better keep to old plans and old books." The italics are mine.

Turn now to " Lessons on objects," (page 132 and the following.)

O8WEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 495

It is the " fourth step," or designed for children of seven or eight
years old. The subject is the metals. Seven pages are devoted to
the general subject. The mode of their occurrence is given ; their
distinguishing " characters ;" their properties as reflectors of light
and heat, as conductors of heat and electricity. The specific grav-
ity of ten are given in numbers to the third decimal. The weight
of a cubic foot of the common metals is also given. They are told
the number of tons that rods an inch square, of the common metals^
will severally sustain without breaking. Detailed information upon
the other general properties are likewise furnished by the teacher,
to an extent that will suggest the thought that not only is " a good
deal of latitude given the children," but some degree of longitude.
Then follow eight model lessons on as many metals, in which the
properties, qualities, uses, geographical and geological relations are
given with almost encyclopedic particularity ; though not always
with the accuracy desirable in a text-book.

We will now open the other manual, " Elementary Instruction."
As in the former case, take the " fourth step," the children of the
same age as before. Under the head of "objects," (page 134,)
" Sketches on the Bible." In another place it is stated " that the
general aim of the teacher in a Bible lesson is to produce a relig-
ious impression." Let us see how this is done.

10. SKETCHES ON THE BIBLE.

Having drawn from the class, by a few direct and simple questions, that the
Bible was not always a printed book — was not first written in English — was
not bestowed on mankind at once, complete from Genesis to Revelation, but in
detached parts ; and having told them to consider the successive portions in
which it was given, the language in which it was first written, and the form in
which it then appeared, the children ought to be in possession of most of the
facts referred to ; therefore, during the greater part of the lessons, the business
of the teacher would bo to lead them to collect and arrange what they already
know.

I. Scripture — in what portions given, and at what period.

1st. Possessors of Scripture — the Hebrew nation. Not when we first recog-
nize it in Egypt, but previous to the settlement in Canaan. Date of this event.
At that time the Israelites had the writings of Moses, probably including one or
two of the Psalms, and the book of Job. Thence to the first captivity they re-
ceived successively the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Chronicles, the
writings of David, those of his son. a portion of the greater and most of the
lesser prophets. After the return, the narratives of Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther,
with the three last prophetical books. Date of the return.

2d. Books of the New Testament period. ' Also considered with respect to
writers, titles, and oracles. Date of conclusion of Scripture. Text learned:
Hebrews i, 1 — " God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in times
past unto the fathers of the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by
His Son."

IL Language — that in which Scripture was first written — translations.

1st. Every revelation prior to the date of the first captivity made in Hebrew
This accounted for. Books of Daniel and Ezra written partly in Hebrew and
partly in Chaldee. Lead the class to infer the probable reason of this, from con-
sideration as to the subject of the portions written in Chaldee ; principally such

496 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

as include original letters, decrees, <fcc., of the Babylonish and Persian govern-
ments. Scriptures posterior to the date of the captivity written in Chaldee, and
all the earlier books translated into the same tongue. No sooner did the ancient
Hebrew become a dead language, than the Scriptures were put into the vernacular
tongue by men, such as Ezra, acting under the immediate inspiration of God.
Conclusion drawn from this, and text learned, showing the importance of under-
standing the Word of God: 1 Cor. xiv, 19 — "I had rather speak five words
with my understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than ten
thousand words in an unknown tongue."

2d. The coming of the time in which the Gentiles were to be led to a knowl-
edge of the truth, marked by the dispersion of the Scriptures among them.
Providence of God shown in this. Its design and effect. Give general account
of various translations, and particular one on the Septuagint. Refer to, and
prove the importance of, the last translation. Refer to prevalence of the Greek
tongue in every part of the civilized world, as connected providentially with
the publication of the Gospel in that language.

To connect this period with what follows, touch very briefly on the general
professions of Christianity. Division of the Roman Empire and subsequent
spread of the Greek and Roman Catholic churches. Progress of the latter.
Extent of her power. Change with respect to the language of the Bible.
Scripture written in Latin throughout all the countries of the Western Empire.

III. Forms under which Vie Scriptures have been presented at di/artnt periods.
1 st. Derivation of the terms Bible and Scripture. Sacred words of the Jews'

writings. Not books. Kind of materials chiefly used, either parchment or vel-
lum. Scroll — when not in use, rolled up on a slender cylinder like a school
map; hence, origin of the term volume. Refer to the Scribes. Their office.
Importance and accuracy of their labors.

2d. Describe sacred records of Christians in the Middle Ages. Illuminated
MSS. What they were. Why so called? Sometimes rolls, oftener books.
Beauty and value of these copies. The copyists — what class of men they were.
Their mode of life, position, and character, compared with that of the "Jewish
Scribes.

3d. Sacred records in the modern form. Class observe their own Bibles, and
state how they differ externally from those before described. Why composed
of many sheets bound together, not of one rolled up ? Why made of paper
rather than parchment? Why no longer MSS.? Give brief account of the in-
vention of printing and its immediate consequence. The great multiplication of
copies. Effect of the distribution of these all over the world. Specimens of
Scriptural translations in one hundred and forty-eight languages were to be seen
at the Great Exhibition. Compare God's present method of making known
Himself and His will to that He adopted in the Apostolic age. Then, super-
natural gift of tongues, enabling the Apostles so to preach that all could un-
derstand. Why necessary then ? Now, the same object effected without a
miracle, by the translation of the Bible into different languages, so that the na-
tions may still say, " We do hear them speak in our tongues the wonderful
works of God."— Acts ii, 1 1 .

IV. Unchangeableness of the inspired word — its influence.

Bible to be regarded as a perfect whole. The New Testament not an abro-
gation, but a development of the principles contained in the Old. Text: Mat-
thew v, 17, 18. This might be proved by reference to the nature of God, but
is evidently seen by the invariable influence of the Scriptures on the condition
of man in all ages and countries. Compare the mental and moral condition of
the Jews prior to their first captivity, with that of the nations surrounding them.
Refer to countries in which the Bible is unknown at this day; without except-
ion, utterly barbarous and degraded. Refer to countries in which its doctrines
are rejected, and yet, because the people have learned something of the histori-
-cal events recorded in it because its precepts (though their origin is not recog-
nized) are interwoven with social laws, they take a far higher rank. Instance,
Mohammedans. Refer to countries in which the Scriptures are held to be true,
and the people do not read them, because the ecclesiastical power has put a seal
on the book. These are better off than those before named, for they hear of
the name, and know somewhat of the character of Jesus, and through the thick
•mists of tradition the light of the Word will sometimes shine.

OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION. 497

Conclusion drawn — that the Bible is a great engine of civilization, as well aa
the source of spiritual knowledge. Effect of its free circulation throughout the
land. Refer to the renovation now commenced in heathen lands, from the

.Mtl of Scriptures and spiritual teaching. Duty incumbent on us to place the
Bible iu the households of our own and other countries. "We may anticipate
the promised blessing, that they who water others shall themselves be watered.

Now imagine, if you please, a teacher of a public school standing
in the presence of a class of pupils between the ages of seven and
twelve, composed of such material as ^ill be found in our cities and
large towns, " talking like this book," ana tell me, will such themes,
thus presented, conduce to any feelings worthy of the name of re-
ligious impressions ? Is such instruction in accordance with " phi-
losophic views of the laws of childhood ?" Do you smile at the
absurdity of the extracts I have given ? — there is hardly a page in
-either of the two volumes of Oswego gospel but contains matter
•equally ridiculous. The fact is, this peculiar adaptation of Pesta-
lozzianism could hardly be otherwise, for though fresh from an
American press, it yet had its origin in what may be called the
<lnrk ages of educational history in England ; that is, some thirty
years ago.

[There is a difficulty attending the proper treatment of this sub-
ject. I mentioned at the outset the considerations which made it
a suitable theme for discussion in even a national assemblage of
teachers. But when one exposes the fallacy of any of the princi-
ples, the absurdity of any of the methods, up start the advocates of
tin >ystcm and repudiate the obnoxious features, or claim that these
are but experiments, looking towards something to be perfected in
the alembic of the future. And when the vicious tendencies of the
system, as a whole, are pointed out, then these same parties fall
back upon the quality of their motives.

But the very exclusiveness of their theory forbids any hope of
improvement with the best intentions that underlie it.

They are on record at the very outset in this wise. The system
as presented to the American public is claimed to embody " the
light and experience of the best schools of Europe, where these
'methods have been longest and most thoroughly tested." That it
is " a definite course of elementary instruction adapted to philosophic
riews of the laws of childhood," &c., <fec.

Furthermore, a legislative grant has been obtained, as has been
already mentioned, not for experimental purposes, looking towards
improvement in elementary instruction, but to train teachers in this
particular system.

But the time allotted will not permit me to pass in review other
features of the so-called Oswego System, equally objectionable.

498 OSWEGO SYSTEM OF OBJECT INSTRUCTION.

The task I have already performed would have been a disagreeable
one, even if, with more time and preparation, I could have flattered
myself that it had been well done. It is still more so, conscious as-
I am of its imperfectness. But it is important that the work of pri-
mary instruction should be well conducted. And it is claimed for
the Oswego System, by its advocates, that in no other way can this
be accomplished than by the methods prescribed in the books from
which I have quoted. The State of New York has given a legisla-
tive sanction to the justness of this claim, by appropriatiug money
for the support of a training school for teachers, where these princi-
ples and methods are adopted and applied. The legislatures of other
States will doubtless be invited to follow this example.

I regard the whole scheme as unwise and defective. A sense of
duty has therefore constrained me to call the attention of the teach-
ers of the country to the subject, that others more nearly related
to our common school system, and otherwise more competent than
myself, may hereafter more thoroughly expose its vicious tendencies.}

I would not, even now, be understood as discouraging, in the
slighest degree, the addition to our present modes of primary school
instruction of any new or desirable features, or the adoption of any
new methods to meet new educational wants, from whatever source
obtained.

I will venture to illustrate my idea. It was my good fortune not 1
many months ago to visit, under favorable circumstances, the schools
of a western city. I saw there the evidences of a most intelligent
supervision, by one familiar with the whole subject of American ed-
ucation, and who had carefully studied the principles and methods
of instruction in other lands. I saw a corps of teachers, from high-
est to lowest, intelligent, active, animated by a full sense of the im-
portance of their work and imbued with the same spirit that con-
trolled the supervision. I saw the usual elementary course in our
common schools, preceded by, associated with, and supplemented
by well selected oral lessons that made the whole a living form of
education. Viewing the pupils as individuals, I saw that a natural
and suitable aliment was so wisely spread before each mind as to.
insure the proper grasp and growth, and as a consequence, mental
activity and strength. Looking at them as classes, I beheld each
grade of pupils, in the school-rooms, responsive to every word and
ook and thought of the teacher.

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM. 499

REV. ROBERT HEBERT QUICK, late University Lecturer at Cam-
ridge on the History of Education, in his Essays on Educational
Reformers (Longmans, 1868 and 1885), treats with characteristic
airness and practicality, of Pestalozzi and his Principles and
lethods of Teaching, in Essay vii, pp. 157—197, from which the
allowing passages, with their citations mainly from Pestalozzi's
Letters on Early Education," are taken:

Pestalozzi, it has been said, invented nothing new. Most assuredly he
id not invent the .principle that education is a developing of the faculties
ither than an imparting of knowledge. But he did much to bring this
•uth to bear on early education, and to make it not only received but
ery widely acted on.

If we seek for the root of Pestalozzi's system, we shall find it, I think,
i that which was the motive power of Pestalozzi's career, ' ' the enthu-
asm of humanity." Consumed with grief for the degradation of the
wiss peasantry, he never lost faith in their true dignity as men, and in
ie possibility of raising them to a condition worthy of it. He cast
x>ut for the best means of thus raising them, and decided that it could
3 effected, not by any improvement in their outward circumstances, but
JT an education which should make them what their Creator intended
iem to be, and should give them the use and the consciousness of all
leir inborn faculties.

From my youth up, I felt what a high and indispensable human duty
is to labor for the poor and miserable; . . that he may attain to a
isciousness of. his own dignity through his feeling of the universal
wers and endowments which he possesses awakened within him; that
may not only learn to gabble over by role the religious maxim that
nan* is created in the image of God, and is bound to live and die as a
Id of God," but may himself experience its truth by virtue of the
vine power within him, so that he may be raised, not only above the
\vinu; oxen, but also above the man in purple and silk who lives
worthily of his high destiny.

A.gain he says (and I quote at length on the point, as it is indeed the
y to Pestalozzianism):

iy have I insisted so strongly on attention to early physical and
ellectual education? Because I consider these as merely leading to a
rher aim, to qualify the human being for the free and full use of all
faculties implanted by the Creator, and to direct all these faculties
ard the perfection of the whole being of man, that he may be enabled
act in his peculiar station as an instrument of that All-wise and
mighty Power that has called him into life.

Believing in this high aim of education, Pestalozzi required a proper
rly training for all alike.

Every human being has a claim to a judicious development of his
julties by those to whom the care of his infancy is confided.
Pestalozzi therefore most earnestly addressed himself to mothers, to
Qvince them of the power placed in their hands, and to teach them

to use it.

The mother is qualified, and qualified by the Creator Himself, to
come the principal a^ent in the development of her child; . . and
iat is demanded of her is — a thinking love. . God has given to

500 PESTALOZZIANISM IN ENGLAND - QUICK.

thy child all the faculties of our nature, but the grand point remains
undecided — how shall this heart, this head, these hands, be employed?
To whose service shall they be dedicated? A question the answer to
which involves a futurity of happiness or misery to a life so dear to thee.

. It is recorded that God opened the heavens to the patriarch of old,
and showed him a ladder leading thither. This ladder is let down to
every descendant of Adam ; it is offered to thy child. But he must be
taught to climb it. And let him not attempt it by the cold calculations
of the head, or the mere impulse of the heart; but let all these powers
combine, and the noble enterprise will be crowned with success. These
powers are already bestowed on him, but to thee it is given to assist in
calling them forth. Maternal love is the first agent in education. .
Through it the child is led to love and trust his Creator and his Redeemer.

From the theory of development which lay at the root of Pestalozzi's
views of education, it followed that the imparting of knowledge and the
training for special pursuits held only a subordinate position in his
scheme.

Education, instead of merely considering what is to be imparted to
children, ought to consider first what they may be said already to pos-
sess, if not as a developed, at least as an involved faculty capable of
development. Or if, instead of speaking thus in the abstract, we will
but recollect that it is to the great Author of life that man owes the pos-
session, and is responsible for the use, of his innate faculties, education
.should not only decide what is to be made of a child, but rather inquire,
what it was intended that he should become? What is his destiny as a
•created and responsible being? What are his faculties as a rational and1
moral being? What are the means for their perfection, and the end held
out as the highest object of their efforts by the Almighty Father of all,
,both in creation and in the page of revelation?

Education, then, must consist in a continual benevolent superintend-
•ence, with the object of calling forth all the faculties which Providence
has implanted; and its province, thus enlarged, will yet be with less
difficulty surveyed from one point of view, and will have more of a
systematic and truly philosophical character, than an incoherent mass of
exercises — arranged without unity of principle, and gone through with-
out interest — which too often usurps its name.

An education of the latter description he denounced with the refor
lory zeal of a Luther.

The present race of schoolmasters sacrifice the essence of true teaching
to separate and disconnected teaching in a complete jumble of subjects.
By dishing up fragments of all kinds of truths, they destroy the spirit of
truth itself, and extinguish the power of self-dependence which, witl
that spirit, cannot exist.

With Pestalozzi teaching was not so much to be thought of as training.
Training must be found for the child's heart, head, and hand, and the
•capacities of the heart and head must be developed by practice no less
than those of the hand. The heart, as we have seen, is first influenced
by the mother. At a later period Pestalozzi would have the charities of
the family circle introduced into the school-room (rather ignoring the
difference which the altered ratio of the young to the adults makes in the
•conditions of the problem), and would have the child taught virtue by his
• -affections being exercised and his benevolence guided to action. There is
an interesting instance on record of the way in which he himself applied
this principle. When he was at Stanz, news arrived of the destruction
of Altdorf . Pestalozzi depicted to his scholars the misery of the children
ihere. "Hundreds," said he, "are at this moment wandering about as

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM. 501

i| you were last year, without ti home, perhaps without food or clothing."

lie tlieu asked them if they would uot wish to receive some of these

children among them? This, of course, they were eager to do. Pesta-

lo/xi then pointed out the sacrifices it would involve on their part, that

thi'V would have to share everything with the new comers, and to eat

ness and work more than before. Only when they promised to make

| these sacrifices ungrudgingly, he undertook to apply to Government

I that the children's wish might be granted. It was thus that Pestalozzi

I endeavored to develop the moral and religious life of the children, which

|| is based on trust and love.

The child's thinking faculty is capable, according to Pestalozzi, of be-
ling exercised almost from the commencement of consciousness. Indeed,
lit has been objected against Pestalozzi's system that he cultivated the
•mere intellectual powers at the expense of the poetical and imaginative.
I All knowledge, he taught, is acquired by sensation and observation:
[sometimes it has been thought that he traces everything originally to the
Ithe senses; but he seems to extend the word 'Anschauung to every expe-
firience of which the mind becomes conscious.

The child, then, must be made to observe accurately, and to reflect on
•its observations. The best subject-matter for the lessons will be the most
/ordinary things that can be found.

Not only is there not one of the little incidents in the life of a child,
[fin his amusements and recreations, in his relation to his parents, and
•friends, and playfellows; but there is actually not anything within the
teach of a child's attention, whether it belong to nature or to the employ-
ments and arts of life, that may not be made the object of a lesson by
•which some useful knowledge may be imparted, and, what is still more
[important, by which the child may not be familiarized with the habit of
•thinking on what he sees, and speaking after he has thought. The mode
»f doing this is not by any means to talk much to a child, but to enter
•nto conversation with a child; not to address to him many words, how-
ever familiar and well chosen, but to bring him to express himself on the
feubject; not to exhaust the subject, but to question the child about it
fend to let him find out and correct the answers. It would be ridiculous
[to expect that the volatile spirits of a child could be brought to follow
•any lengthy explanations. The attention is deadened by long exposi-
tions, but roused by animated questions. Let these questions be short,
•jlear, and intelligible. Let them not merely lead the child to repeat in
•me same, or in varied terms, what he has heard just before. Let them
[excite him to observe what is before him, to recollect what he has learned,
land to muster his little stock of knowledge for materials for an answer.
Know him a certain quality in one thing, and let him find out the same
•in others. Tell him that the shape of a ball is called round, and if,
[accordingly, you bring him to point out other objects to which the same
fcroperty belongs, you have employed him more usefully than by the
•most perfect discourse on rotundity. In the one instance he would have
Iliad to listen and to recollect, in the other he has to observe and to think.
8 From observation and memory there is only one step to reflection,
•plough imperfect, this operation is often found among the early exer-
cises of the infant mind. The powerful stimulus of inquisitiveness
•prompts to exertions which, if successful or encouraged by others, will
ead to a habit of thought.

Words, which are the signs of things, must never be taught the child
•[ill he has grasped the idea of the thing signified.

When an object has been submitted to his senses, he must be led to the

I'l.M Al.ii/./IAMSM IN KNi.I.AND (,»M<K.

consciousness of tin- impulsions produced, and then must be taught the
ilame of tin- object and of the qualities producing tho>e impres>.
Last of all, In- muyt ascend to the definition <>f tin- object.

Tin- object -lessons Pestalozzi divided into three -real cla-ses. under the
heads of — (1) Form; (2) Number; (8) Speech. It was his constant
endeavor to make his pupils distinguish betu< iuN and acd«

dentals, amkwith his habit of constant analysis, which seems pushed to
an extreme that to children would be repulsive, he Bought to reduce
Form, Number, and Speech to their elements. In his alphabet of Form
: \ thin Lr was represented as having the square as its base. In Number
all operations were traced back to 1 + 1. In Speech the children, in their
cradles, were to be taught the elements of sound, as ba, ba, ba, da,
da, da, ma, ma, ma, etc. This elementary teaching Pestalozzi considered
of the greatest importance, and when he himself instructed lie went over
the ground very slowly. Huss tells us that when he first joined P
lo/./.i the delay over the prime elements seemed to him a waste of time,
but that afterward he was 'convinced of its being the right plan.

Not only have the first elements of knowledge in every subject the
most important bearing on its complete outline, but the child's confidence
and interest are gained by perfect attainment even in the lowest stage of
instruction.

i;\ bdi <>) Meet-lessons Pestalozzi aimed at — 1, enlarging gradually the
spin re of a child's intuition, i. e . increasing the number of objects fall-
ing under his immediate perception; 2, impressing upon him those per-
ceptions of which he had become conscious, with certainty, clearness, and
precision; :{. imparting to him a comprehensive knowledge of Ian
for the expression of whatever had become or was becoming an object of
his consciousness, in consequence either of the spontaneous impulse <>f
his own nature, or of the assistance of tuition.

Of all the instruction given at Yvenlun. the most successful, in the
opinion of those who visited the school, was the instruction in arithmetic.
The children are described as performing with great rapidity very diffi-
cult tasks in head calculation. IY-:a!o//i l»a>ed hi- method here, a- in
other subjects, on the principle that the individual should be brought to
knowledge by a road similar to that which the whole race had used in
founding the science. Actual counting of things preceded the first
Cocker, as actual measuring of land preceded the original Euclid. The
child then must be taught to count things, and to find out the various
processes experimentally in the concrete before he is given any abstract
rule, or is put to any abstract e\en -M - This plan N now commonly
adopted in German schools, and many ingenious contrivances have been
introduced by which the combinations of things can be pre-ent- d to the
children's sight.

Next to the education of the affections and intellect conn- th < exer-
cises in which the body is more prominent. I do not know that there'
was anything distinctive in IV-talo/./i's views and practices in physical
education, although he attached the due importance to it which had pre-
viously been perceived only by Locke and Housscau, and in Germany by
Basedow and his colleagues of the Philanthropin.

MMAi;<i \M> ESTIMATE «'l 1 KSTALn/XIANlS.M 503

Great pains should be taken with the cultivation of the senses, and
finally tin- artistic faculty (Kmmtki'uft) should be developed, in which {he
power of i lie mind and that of the senses are united. Music and drawing
played a leading part in Pestalozzi's schools. They were taught to all
the chili In -n. even the youngest, and were not limited to the conventional
two hours a week. It is natural to children to imitate; thus they acquire
language, and thus, with proper direction and encouragement, they will
find pleasure in attempting to sing the melodies they hear, and to draw
the simple objects around them. By drawing, the eye is trained as weH
as the hand.

A per -«m who is in the habit of drawing, especially from nature, wil»
eti-ilv p-Tceive many circumstances which are commonly overlooked, and
will form a much more correct impression, even of such objects as he
not stop to examine minutely, than one who has never been taught

to look upon what he MM with an intention of reproducing a likeness of
it. The attention to the exact shape of the whole, and the proportion
of the parts, which is KM juisite for the taking of an adequate sketch, is
convert. (1 into a habit and becomes both instructive and amusing.

Besides drawing, Pestalozzi recommended modeling, a hint which was
afterward worked out by Fr5bel in his Kindergarten.

Differing from Locke and Bftsedow, Pestalozzi was no friend to the
notion of giving instruction always in the guise of amusement.

I am convinced that such a notion will forever preclude solidity of
knowledge, and, from want of sufficient exertions on the part of the
pupil-, will 1« -ad to that very result which I wish to avoid by my prin-
ciple of a constant employment of the thinking powers. A child must
very early in life he taught the lesson that exertion is indispensable for
(fee attainment of knowledge.

But a child -hould not be taught to look upon exertion as an evil. He
should IK- encouraged, not frightened into it.

An in ten -t in study is the first thing which a taacher should endeavor
.'•itc and kerp alive There are scarcely any circumstances in \\ hich
a want of application in children does not proceed from a want of inter-
md there are perhaps none in which the want of inten -i docs not
originate in the mode of teaching adopted by the teacher. I would go SO
far as to lay it down as a rule, that whenever children are inattentive and
apparently take no inten-t in a lesson, the teacher should always tir-t
look to him-elf for the rea-on. . . Could we conceive the inde-criba-
ble tedium which mu-t oppn — the younir mind while the weary hours
ire slowl} p.--ini; away one aft«T another in occupation which it can
neither reli-h nor understand, could we remember the like -ceiie- which
our own childhood has p;i~-rd through, we should no longer be -urpri-ed
at the renii-sness ()f the schoolboy, "creepini: like -nail unwillingly to
•1 " . . To chan-e all tlii>, we must adopt a better mode of
instruction, by which the children are le-- 1,-ft to themsrlvc-. le>- thrown
upon the unwelcome employment of passive listening, less harshly treated
for little excusable failings; but more roused by <iue-tion>. animated by
illustrations, interested and won by kindnc-s.

There i- H most remarkable reciprocal action between the interest
which the teacher takes and that which he communicates to his pupils.
If he is n<>t with his whole mind present at the subject, if he does not
•.\hether he is understood or not, whether his manner is liked or not,
he will alienate the affections of his pupils, and render them indiflVn -nt
to what he says. Hut real interest taken in the task of instruction —
kind words and kinder feelin-s — the very expression of the features,
and the glance of the eye, are never lost upon children.

504 SUMMARY OP PESTALOZZIANISM.— BROWNING.

OSCAR BROWNING, Assistant Master at Eton College and Senior Fellow
and Lecturer of King's College, Cambridge, in his Introduction to the
History of Educational Theories (Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., London,
1881), devotes a chapter (X) to Pestalozzi's Life, Theories, and Influence,
from which we take the following summary and estimate:

According to Pestalozzi —

The end of education is the harmonious development of all the natural
powers. If we provide for this harmonious development we shall have
given the education which we desire. There is a certain order determined
for us which our development should follow, there are certain laws which
it should observe, there are impulses and tendencies implanted in us-
which cannot be extinguished or subdued. The natural course of our
development comes from these impulses. A man wishes to do every-
thing which he feels himself strong enough to do, and in virtue of this in-
dwelling impulse he wills to do this. The feeling of this inward strength
is the expression of the everlasting, inextinguishable, unalterable laws
which lie at the bottom of a man's nature. These laws are different for
different individuals, but they have a certain harmony and continuity
for the human race. Now that alone can be considered of educative
power for a man which grapples with all the faculties of his nature, —
with heart, mind, and body. On the other hand, any one-sided influence
which deals only with one of these faculties by itself, undermines and
destroys the equilibrium of our forces, and leads to an education which
is contrary to nature. If we wish to raise and ennoble ourselves we must
accept, as the true foundation for this effort, the unity of all our human
powers. What God has joined together let not man put asunder.

Pestalozzi finds the best, and only natural means of elementary instruc-
tion, in intuitional object teaching, viz. : in making clear and intelligible to-
the child, by his own experience, reflection, and expression, the object
•tyhich comes before his eyes or his consciousness — by enabling him to-
distinguish in language, spoken or written, or represent by drawing, the
individual thing or conception, and then to apply this same method to-
music, geography, history, and natural phenomena.

Beyond these simple parts of instruction — reading, writing, and
arithmetic — Pestalozzi does not go; but there is no doubt that his influ-
ence over education was enormous. Poor, and without learning, he tried
to reform the science of the world. He was enthusiastically supported
and scornfully abused. His place among educationalists is now no longer
a matter of doubt, and it has grown year by year since his death. His
methods of teaching words, forms, and numbers were accepted. Speak-
ing was taught by pictures, arithmetic was reformed ; methods of geome-
try, of natural history, of geography, of singing and drawing were com-
posed after Pestalozzi's example. Still greater was the influence which
he exerted over the general theory and practice of education. It is due
to him that we have accepted as a truth that the foundation of education
lies in the development of the powers of each individual. The method
which begins by educating the senses, and which through them works on
the intellect, must be considered as derived from his teaching. The
kindergarten of Frobel is only the particular development of a portion
•>f his general scheme. His example also gave a strong impulse to the
Caching of the poor and destitute.

We live so completely in the system which Pestalozzi helped to form,
that it is difficult for us to realize how great a man he was. He may
have had many faults as an organizer and an instructor, but he gave hi&
Vfe for the lambs of the flock. He was the first teacher who inculcated
unbounded faith in the power of human love and sympathy. He divested
himself of everything, and spent the whole of a long life in the service
of the poor and lowly, subduing himself to those whom he taught, and
entering into the secrets of their minds and hearts. He loved much, and
manv shortcomings may be forgiven him.

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM. 505-

PROFESSOR JAMES LEITCH, principal of the Church of Scotland
Normal School at Glasgow, in his Practical Educationists and Their
Systems of Teaching (Glasgow: Maclehose, 1876), devotes a chap-
ter to Pestalozzi, from which the following passages are taken:

In spite of his ungainly appearance, however, the personal influence
of the man was very great; as there was a spirit and a power in his
very look which was quite irresistible. To this fact Ramsauer testifies —

" In Burgdorf, an active and entirely new mode of life opened to me;
there reigned so much love and simplicity in the institution ; the life was
so genial — I could almost say patriarchal ; not much was learned, it is
true, but Pestalozzi was the father, and the teachers were the friends of
the pupils; his morning and evening prayers had such a fervour and
simplicity, that they carried away every one who took part in them;
he prayed fervently, read and explained Gellert's hymns impressively,
exhorted each of the pupils individually to private prayer, and saw that
some pupils said aloud in the bedrooms every evening the prayers which
they had learned at home, while he explained at the same time that the
mere repeating of prayers by rote was worthless, and that every one
should rather pray from his own heart."

Pestalozzi enumerates the following pedagogical principles:

(1) The foundation of teaching is shewing (demonstration). (2) In every
branch, teaching should begin with the simplest elements, and should
proceed from these by steps suited to the child's development, observing
in regard to this the laws of psychology. (3) The teacher should dwell
on each point till the matter of instruction becomes the free mental pos-
session of the pupil. (4) The acquisition of knowledge and skill is not
the chief end of elementary teaching, but the development and strength-
ening of the mental powers. (5) The relation between pupil and teacher,
especially also the school discipline ; should be based on and be regulated
by love. (6) Teaching should keep in view the purpose of education.

The following is Pestalozzi's estimate of what a teacher should be : —
"The schoolmaster should at least be an open-hearted, cheerful, affec- "*}
tionate, and kind man, who would be as a father to the children; a man -^
made on purpose to open children's hearts and their mouths, and to draw -
forth their understandings, as it were, from the hindermost corner. In
most schools, however, it is just the contrary. The schoolmaster seems, i • I
as if he were made on purpose to shut up children's mouths and hearts,
and to bury their good understandings ever so deep under ground. That
is the reason why healthy and cheerful children, whose hearts are full of
joy and gladness, hardly ever like school." And his opinion of the duty
of teachers to interest: "An interest in study is the first thing which a
teacher should endeavor to excite and keep alive. There are scarcely
any circumstances in which a want of application in children does not
proceed from a want of interest ; and there are perhaps none in which
the want of interest does not originate in the mode of teaching adopted by
the teacher. I would go so far as to lay it down as a rule, that wherever
children are inattentive, and apparently take no interest in a lesson, the
teacher should always first look to himself for the reason. There is a
most remarkable reciprocal action between the interest which the teacher
takes, and that which he communicates to his pupils. If he is not with
his whole mind present at the subject, if he does not care whether he is
understood or not, whether his manner is liked or not, he will alienate
the affections of his pupils, and render them indifferent to what he says.
But real interest taken in the task of instruction — kind words and kinder
feelings — the very expression of the features, and the glance of the eye,
are never lost upon children."

Prof. Leitch thus characterizes Pestalozzi and Fellenberg:

Experience had brought both to the conclusion that society was to
be purified only by an improved and extended education for all classes,
particularly for the poor; and with this object in view, they each.

5()<; LEITCH'S ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZI AND FELLENBERG.

founded and personally conducted educational institutions, which they
intended to serve as models for general imitation. They agreed in many
of their opinions on educational method, Fellenberg having adopted sev-
eral principles directly from Pestalozzi, who was his senior by a quarter
of a century. They resembled each other also in possessing, in a high
degree, the qualities of enthusiasm, energy, perseverance, and moral
courage. They had each to encounter much opposition, and to over-
come many difficulties; but nothing could turn them from their purpose,
or abate their ardor. Here the parallel ends, and the points of difference
begin. Pestalozzi was the greater man in that he had genius, sensibility,
and imagination, in addition to the qualities which were common to
both. His literary works prove that he combined many of the highest
qualities of the philosopher and the poet. Fellenberg, on the other hand,
had no literary powers, but he possessed a class of qualities in which
Pestalozzi was singularly deficient, and which are indispensable to the
success of practical undertakings on a large scale. He had a thoroughly
disciplined mind, great firmness of will, a sound judgment, remarkable
sagacity, keen powers of calculation, foresight, inventive skill, governing
tact — in short, all the qualifications which constitute a successful admin-
istrator. Thus it happened that while Pestalozzi's undertakings fre-
quently failed, Fellenberg's generally succeeded. Pestalozzi brought
ruin and misery upon himself and his family; Fellenberg enriched him-
self. The life of Pestalozzi was sorely troubled by unseemly contentions
among his assistants ; around Fellenberg everything worked harmoni-
ously. Pestalozzi often contradicted his theory in attempting to apply it
to practice; with Fellenberg theory and practice always went hand in
hand. Pestalozzi allowed his enthusiasm and his genial temper to lead
him into all sorts of extravagancies; Fellenberg, though a man of strong
passions, rarely acted impulsively. This remarkable dissimilarity between
the two men was no doubt owing, in a great measure, to a difference in
their natural endowment, but it was also the result of a difference of
education. Fellenberg had enjoyed the counsel, control, and example of
a well-educated father, who carefully trained him for the duties of active
life. Pestalozzi was early deprived of the blessings of a father's influ-
ence, which no other person can well supply. In the stirring politics of
the times in which they lived, the two men took opposite sides — Pesta-
lozzi, sprung from the middle classes, and indignant at the harsh and
oppressive rule of the aristocracv, was an adherent of the reforming
party, and welcomed the French Revolution; Fellenberg, by birth a
member of the aristocracy, was one of the most active in resisting the
French invasion, and had to flee for his life. He did not approve, li<>\\
•ever, of the exclusive pretensions of his order, whom he advised to win
back the alienated affections of the peasantry by showing a noble zeal
for the safety of their country. The main difference between the educa-
tional views of the two men was this, Pestalozzi taught that the object of
national education should be to develop the mental and moral faculties
of every individual member of society, without distinction of rank.
This cultivation of the general intelligence of the children of the nation,
he maintained, should be the foundation for the special education needed
to qualify them for any particular rank or pursuit. Fellenberg adopted
this principle in the main, but held that Pestalozzi carried it too far. He
maintained that the general culture should apply only to the earliest
period of a child's education, which should be limited in its duration by
the capacity and circumstances in life of each individual; and that this
preliminary training should be followed by one chiefly devoted to the
acquisition of such positive knowledge as would fit him for the discharge
of his duties as a member of society. This principle of adapting the
education of the pupil to the requirements of his probable station and
occupation in after-life commends itself at once to practical minds as a
sound and important one; nor is it at all at variance with the Pestalozzian
principle of general development, for the teaching of almost any branch
of knowledge may be so conducted as to have a highly educative influ-
ence on the mind of the learner.

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OP PESTALOZZIANISM. 507

Prof. JAMES TILLEARD, one of the teachers selected by Dr. Kay and
Mr. Tufnell to inaugurate the Battersea Training School, writes of
Pestalozzi and Fellenberg in " The Museum" (a Quarterly Journal of
Education), for July, 1861, as follows:

Their experience led them both, at an early period of their lives, to the
'Conviction that the amelioration of society was to be hoped for only from
an improved and extended education of all classes, particularly for the
poor. To the furtherane« of this object they both resolved to devote
tlit-ir lives, and they kept their resolve. They each founded and person-
ally conducted educational institutions which they intended to serve as
models for general imitation. They each promulgated their views on the
-objects and methods of education. They influenced, and still continue
to influence the education of the whole world. They agreed in mai:y of
their opinions of educational methods. Fellenberg, indeed, adopted many
principles directly from Pestalozzi, who was his senior by a quarter of a
century.

Pestalozzi taught that instead of making the child the passive recipient
of the ideas of others, as most teachers before his time had done,* it was
the duty of the teacher to develop his faculties and form his character,
.so as to" enable him to think and act for himself. In developing the fac-
ulties IV-talo/./i thought that the order of Nature should be followed.
He held, with Locke, that all our ideas originate in the knowledge de-
rived through our perceptive faculties, and this cultivation should be
made the foundation of education. To use his own forcible expression,
he turned the European educational vessel round and put it on a new
track. These, and others of his opinions, were adopted by Fellenberg,
who has, therefore, not incorrectly been called his disciple.

They resemble each other, also, in possessing, in a high degree, the
qualities of enthusiasm, energy, perseverance, and moral courage. They
-each had to encounter much opposition, and to overcome many difficul-
ties: Imt nothing could turn them from their purpose, or abate the ardor
•of their zeal. . . .

The main difference between the educational views of Pestalozzi and
Fellenberg waa this: Pestalozzi taught as a fundamental principle that
the object of the national education should be to develop the mental and
moral faculties of every individual member of society, without distinction
of rank. This cultivation of the general intelligence of the pupils, he
maintained, should be the foundation for the special education needed to
qualify them for any particular rank or pursuit. Such a view of national
education was a legitimate corollary of his opinions as a political reformer.

Fellenberg (one of the governing class at that date, in Berne), with a
deirree of liberality and moral courage that it is difficult now to estimate
justly, adopted this principle in the main. But his practical mind saw
that it was carried by Pestalozzi beyond the just limits of its application
at that date, in Switzerland. He maintained that it applied more particu-
larly to the earliest period of education, the duration of which should
vary with the capacity and circumstances in the life of the individual
pupil ; and that this period should be followed by one chiefly devoted to
the acquisition of such positive knowledge as would fit him for the dis-
charge of his duties as a member of society. This principle of adapting
the education of the pupil to the requirements of his probable station and
occupation in after life commends itself at once to practical minds as
sound and important; nor is it at all at variance with the Pestalozzian
principle of general development.

* The majority (before Pestalozzi) only attempted to pour into the mind a vast amount
of knowledge of every kind, and thought an intelligent man must be the result. Learned
fools, rather — with mind nciihi-r for the present or the future; who like finite beings, in
another sense, are continuously created, but never able to create; heirs of all ideas, but
originators of none; they are indeed samples of their education, but no proofs of its ex-
cellence.— Kichter's Lemnn, Bug. ed., p. 41G.

508 SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM.

JOHN GILL, Professor of Education in the Normal School at
Cheltenham, in his Systems of Education advocated by Eminent Edu-
cationists (Longman, 1876), gives the following summary of the-
Principles and Methods of Pestalozzi as interpreted by Rev.
Charles Mayo in a lecture before the Royal Institution in 1826,
and applied by him in his Pestalozzian School at Cheam:

The basis of all sound knowledge is the accurate observation of things
acting on the outward senses. Unless physical conceptions be formed
with distinctness, our abstractions will be vague, and our judgments and
reasoning unstable. The first object then in education must be to lead a
child to observe with accuracy; the second, to express with correctness
the result of his observation. The practice of embodying in language
the conceptions we form gives permanence to the impressions; and 'the
habit of expressing ourselves with the utmost precision of which we are
capable, mainly assists the faculty of thinking with accuracy and remem-
bering with fidelity.

This being the leading idea of his method, the following are the prin-
ciples by which it should be pursued.

Education should be essentially religious. Its end and aim should be
to lead a creature, born for immortality, to that conformity to the image
of God in which the glory and happiness of immortality consists. In
pursuing this end, the instructor must regard himself as standing in
God's stead to the child ; and as by the revelation of God's love is the
spiritual transformation of man accomplished, so must the earthly teacher
build all his moral agencies on the manifestation of his own love towards
the pupil. Then, as "we love God because He first loved us," so will
the affections of the pupil be awakened towards his instructor, wrhen lie-
feels himself the object of that instructor's regard. Again, as love to
God generates conformity to His will, so will obedience to the instructor
be the consequence of awakened affection.

Education should be essentially moral. The principles and standard
of its morality should be derived from the precepts of the gospel, as.
*llustrated by the example of the Redeemer. Moral instruction, to be
availing, must be the purified and elevated expression of moral life
actually pervading the scene of education. In carrying on the business
of the school-room, or in watching over the diversions of the playground,
the motives and restraints of the purest morality, and those only, must
be employed. Moral diseases are not to be counteracted by moral poi-
sons; nor is intellectual attainment to be furthered at the expense of
moral good.

Education should be essentially organic. A stone increases in size by
the mechanical deposition of matter on its external surface; a plant, on
the other hand, grows by continual expansion of those organs which lie
folded up in its germ. Elementary education, as ordinarily carried on,
is a mechanical inculcation of knowledge: in the Pestalozzian system it
is an organic development of the human faculties, moral, intellectual,
and physical. Moral education does not consist in preventing immoral
actions in the pupil, but in cultivating dispositions, forming principles,
and establishing habits. Nor does intellectual education attain its end
by the mere communication of intellectual truths, but rather in the
development of those faculties by which truth is recognized and discov-
ered. And, lastly, physical education, instead of confining itself to
instruction in particular arts, must be directed to the improvement of the
outward senses, and the increase of activity and strength.

Activity is the great means of development, for action is the parent of

power. The sentiments of the heart, the faculties of the mind, the powers

of the body, advance to their maturity through a succession of acting in

conformity to their nature. Opportunities for the exercise of moral

50

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM.

virtue should be carefully sought out, or, at least, diligently applied. To
cultivate benevolent dispositions, the pupil should be invited to relieve
the indigent ; to overcome his selfishness, he should be induced to share
or to part with the objects of his own desire. In intellectual culture
•every branch of instruction should be so presented to the pupil's mind, as
to bring into the highest activity the faculties most legitimately employed
upon it.

That these may be that action that leads to development, there must
be liberty. It may be possible by a system of coercion, to produce a
negative exterior morality, which shall endure as long as the circum-
stances on which it is built remain in force ; but no interior moral power,
that shall survive a change of outward circumstances, can be formed,
unless such moral liberty be enjoyed as leaves to the Judgment room for
• discerning between good and evil ; to the moral choice the adoption of
the one, and the rejection of the other; to the conscience the approval
and rewarding of right, the condemnation and punishment of wrong.
Restraint is useful to check the career of passion, to arrest the progress
and diffusion of moral mischief, to remove the incentives to evil, and to
restore to that position in which the moral principle may again exert its
influence. Still it is only a negative, not a positive means. All the real
development of man, moral, intellectual, and physical, arises from moral,
intellectual, and physical liberty.

This liberty must be directed by an influence essentially parental;
where there is no mother there can be no child, is as true morally as it is
physically. It is the order of providence that maternal affection and
maternal wisdom should call forth the dawning powers of childhood;
and that the wisdom and firmness of a father should build up and con-
solidate the fabric which reposes on a mother's love. The Pestalozzian
instructor must combine the character of each relation, but exhibit them
in different proportions according to the age and disposition of his pupil.

The development of the faculties should be harmonious. In some cases
the intellectual, or moral, or both, are sacrificed to the physical; in some,
the moral, or physical, or both, to the intellectual. A Pestalozzian edu-
cator respects the rights of each. He fortifies the body by gymnastic
exercises, while he cultivates the understanding, and trains the senti-
ments. He endeavors to preserve the equipoise in each, as well as
between each of the three departments, to mingle firmness with sweet-
ness, judgment with taste, activity with strength. His object will be,
not to develop a disproportionate strength in one faculty, but to produce
that general harmony of mind and character which is the most conducive
to the happiness and usefulness of the individual.

Development should be essentially progressive. The sentiments should
be gradually led to take a higher direction and a wider range. The
motives of well-doing must be by degrees elevated and purified in their
character; the duty which was discharged at first in obedience to an
earthly father must be set forth as the requirements of a heavenly one ;
the charities of life must be exercised towards those in immediate con-
tact ; by degrees an interest may be cultivated in operations embracing a
wider or distant sphere of usefulness.

In every branch of study, the point de depart is sought in the actual
experience of the child; and from that point where he intellectually is,
he is progressively led to that point where the instructor wishes him to
be. Thus he proceeds from the known to the unknown, by a process
that connects the latter with the former, and, instead of being abruptly
placed in contact with the abstract elements of a science, he is led by a
sourse of analytical investigations of the knowledge actually possessed,
to form for himself those intellectual abstractions which are in general
presented as the primary truths.

These principles are recognized in the Aims and Methods of the
Normal and Model Schools of the Home and Colonial Infant
School Society established in 1836.

510 SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM.

DR. BIBER, who had the best opportunity to form an intelligent opin-
ion of Pestalozzi's personal character, and influence on assistants and pu-
pils, in his " Life of Pestalozzi," in 1831, remarks:

At the opening of his school at Stantz he had no plan of lessons, no-
method, no school book, except one, and even this he scarcely used at all.
Nor did he attempt to form a plan, to sketch out a method, or to compose
a book. The only object of his attention was to find out at each mo-
ment what instruction his children stood peculiarly in need of, and what
was the best manner of connecting it with the knowledge they already
possessed, or deducing it from the observations which they had an op-
portunity of making within the sphere of their daily iffe. Nothing
could be more unsystematic than his proceeding; the meanest school-
master would have thought it beneath him to assist in the management of
a school which was kept together, as it were, on the spur of the moment.
But though there was in it little or no method, the children felt attracted,
interested, stimulated. They had no tasks to get, but they had always
something to investigate or to think about ; they gained little positive
knowledge, but they gained daily in the love of knowledge and in the
power of acquiring it; they might have been at a loss if called upon to
quote texts in support of any particular doctrine of Christianity, but in
the practice of its virtues they were perpetually exercised. The whole
tendency of Pestalozzi's instruction was not to initiate his children into
the use of those phrases which form the currency of the scientific, liter-
ary, political, and religious world, nor to habituate them to any sort of
routine for the future purposes of business, but to raise their state intel-
lectually and morally, by a treatment conformable to the laws of God in
human nature. To discover this law, and to learn by experience the
bearing which it had upon the development of the child, was the great
object of his present exertions, he had thrown off the fetters by which
human society generally disqualifies man for the higher freedom in which
God would lead him on ; whenever he saw a landmark of truth he steered
his course towards it, and the result was that when the events of the war
had banished him from Stantz, before the expiration of a twelve month,
he left it with a distinct view of the nature of his task, and with a thou-
sand floating ideas of the means by which it might best be accomplished.

Of the Institution at Yverdun in its earliest days, before dissension
had broken out among his assistants, Dr. Biber writes :

Never, perhaps, has the idea of domestic life, in the highest sense of
the word, been more beautifully realized; never the effect of a family
spirit been more fully illustrated, than it was in the flourishing times o'f
the establishment at Yverdun, in which persons of all ages, of all ranks,
of all nations, persons of the most different gifts and abilities, and of the
most opposite characters, were united together by that unaffected love
which Pestalozzi, in years a man verging to the grave, but in heart and
mind a genuine child, seemed to breathe out continually, and to impart
to all that came within his circle. His children forgot that they had any
other home; his teachers, that there was any world beside the Institution.
Even the oldest members of this great family, men who had attained all
the maturity of manhood, venerated Pestalozzi with all the reverence of
true filial affection, and cherished towards each other, and toward the
younger teachers and pupils, a genuine brotherly feeling, such as has,
perhaps, never existed on earth since the days of the pristine Christian
Church. There was no man that claimed any privileges for himself, none
that sought anything apart from the others. All the goods of the earth,
and all the gifts of immortality, by whomsoever they might be possessed,
were enjoyed in common by all; every individual, with all that he had,
and all that he could command, devoted himself to the happiness and the
improvement of all. There were not times and places set apart for duty,
and times and places left without duty; in every place, and in every mo-
ment, there was a claim of duty upon the conscience of every individual;
the discharge of that duty was not a toilsome drudgery, but a true delight.

SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE OF PESTALOZZIANISM. -lit

GABRIEL COMPAYRE, born in 1843, a pupil of the Lycee Louis
le Grand, and holding a diploma of graduation from the Superior
Normal School at Paris in 1865, and Professor of Pedagogy in
the Normal School of Fontenay-aux- Roses, in his History of Edu-
cation in France since the IQth Century (Paris, 1879, 2 vols.),.thus
characterizes Pestalozzi :

It is not for us here to describe in detail the attractive characteristics of
that grand teacher, the Rollin of primary education, who might well be
proud to say, what he often repeated so simply, "I am only a school
master." During twenty-four years of his long and arduous life he was>
in turn, director of Elementary Schools, chief of an agricultural and
charitable institution, the organizer of a college for special and applied
education, the author of educational romances such as "Leonard and
Gertrude," at Neuhof, at Stanz, at Berthoud, and at Yverdun ; and
through all this period and in all these relations Pestalozzi never ceased to.
love the children and to work for them. War and the want of the good
wishes and sympathy of his countrymen well nigh destroyed his schools,
but he rebuilt them at a greater distance, and never despaired ; always
ready to listen to new theories, always picking up orphans and vagabonds
like an abductor of children on a new plan ; forgetting that he was poor
when he would beicharitable and that he was ill when he must teach. ; in
fine, pursuing with an indomitable energy that overcame all obstacles to-
his apostleship of pedagogy. "Success or death ! " he cried ; " my zeal to*
accomplish the dream of my life would take me through fire and water,
even to the highest peak of the Alps."

Compayre closes his interesting chapter on Pestalozzi, in his.
History of Pedagogy, translated by Prof. Payne [Boston, Heath &
Co., 1886], with the following remarks of his own and citations
from Morf, Pestalozzi's latest biographer, and Yulliemen, a bright
pupil of his at Yverdun.

The teaching of Pestalozzi was in reality a long groping in unexplored
ways — a ceaseless search after the best methods. Following his pedagogic
instinct, his loving desire to please and develop the child's mind, and avail-
ing himself of the immediate practical skill of such assistants as were at his
command (most of them young, and pupil-teachers who had come to study
his system), he never worked out his own theories to complete satisfac-
tion or clearly formulated them in manuals for the guidance of others.
He made many important innovations on the old routine of school work,
and set many logical minds in the right track of psychological inquiry,
and through them settled definitely the aims and processes of elementary
instruction in all countries, and primarily in Germany, and particularly
in Prussia and Wurtemberg.

Vulliemen thus summarizes the essential principles and processes of
Pestalozzi as applied by himself at Yverdun : —

Instruction was addressed to the intelligence rather than to the memory.
"Attempt, said Pestalozzi to his colleagues, to develop the child, and not
to train him as one trains a dog."

Language was taught us by the aid of intuition; we learned to see
correctly, and through this very process to form for ourselves a correct
idea of the relations of things. What we had conceived clearly we had
no difficulty in expressing clearly.

The first elements of geography were taught us on the spot. . . *

512 PESTALOZZIA^lS.M IX FRANCE.- COMPAYItfi.

Then we reproduced in relief with clay the valley of which we had just
made a study.

We were made to invent geometry by having marked out for us the
end to reach, and by being put on the route. The same course was
followed in arithmetic; our computations were made in the head and
viva wee, without the aid of paper.

There was neither book nor copy-book in the schools of Berthoud.

The children had nothing to learn by heart. They had to repeat all at
once and in accord the instructions of the master. Each lesson lasted
but an hour, and was followed by a short interval devoted to recreation.

Manual labor, making paper boxes, working in the garden, gymnastics,
were associated with mental labor. The last hour of each day was
devoted to optional labor. The pupils said, "We are working for
ourselves." A few hours a week were devoted to military exercises.

Pestalozzi in his first letter to Gessner adopts Fischer's formula as
expressing the five essential principles his own system : —

1. To give the mind an intensive culture, and not simply extensive:
to form the mind, and not to content one's self with furnishing it;

2. To connect all instruction with the study of language;

3. To furnish the mind for all its operations with fundamental data,
mother ideas ;

4. To simplify the mechanism of instruction and study;

5. To popularize science.

Morf, the latest biographer of Pestalozzi, condenses into a few
maxims the pedagogy of the great master : —

1. Intuition is the basis of instruction;

2. Language ought to be associated with intuition;

3. The time to learn is not that of judging and of criticizing;

4. In each branch, instruction ought to begin with the simplest ele-
ments, and to progress by degrees while following the development of the
child, that is to say, through a series of steps psychologically connected ;

5. We should dwell long enough on each part of the instruction for
the pupil to gain a complete mastery of it;

6. Instruction ought to follow the order of natural development, and
not that of synthetic exposition ;

7. The individuality of the child is sacred;

8. The principal end of elementary instruction is not to cause the
'Child to acquire knowledge and talents, but to develop and increase the
forces of his intelligence ;

9. To wisdom there must be joined power; to theoretical knowledge,
practical skill ;

10. The relations between master and pupil ought to be based on love ;

11. Instruction proper ought to be made subordinate to the higher
purpose of education.

The processes of the teacher are as follows : —

The child should know how to speak before learning to read.

For reading, use should be made of movable letters glued on paste-
board. Before writing, the pupil should draw. The first exercises in
writing should be upon slates.

In the study of language, the evolution of nature should be followed,
first studying nouns, then qualificatives, and finally prepositions.

The elements of computation shall be taught by the aid of material
objects taken as units, or at least by means of strokes drawn on a board.
Oral computation shall be the most employed.

The pupil ought, in order to form an accurate and exact idea of num-
bers, to conceive them always as a collection of strokes or of concrete
things, and not as abstract figures. A small table divided into squares in
which points are represented, serves to teach addition, subtraction, etc.

PESTALOZZI, ROUSSEAU, AND FR(EBEL IN FRANCE. 51'?

The great superiority of Pestalozzi over Rousseau is that he worked
for the people, that he applied to a great number of children the princi-
ples which Rousseau embodied only in an individual and privileged edu-
cation. Enaile after all is an aristocrat. He is rich and of good ances-^^X"
try; and is endowed with all the gifts of nature and fortune. Real pupils
do not offer, in general, to the action of teachers, material as docile and
complaisant. Pestalozzi had to do only with children of the common
people, who have everything to learn at school, because they have 1'ound
at home, with busy or careless parents, neither encouragement nor exam
pie, — because their early years have been only a long intellectual slumber.
For these benumbed natures, many exercises are necessary, which would
properly be regarded as useless if it were a question of instructing child-
ren of another condition. . . The real organizer of the education of
childhood and of the people, Pestalozzi has a right to the plaudits of all
those who are interested in the future of the masses of mankind.

Whatever degree of approval we extend to the fundamental doctrine
and processes of the Kindergarten and the Infant School, may be justly J
claimed for Pestalozzi who recognized the play spirit, the spontaneous S
and pleasurable activity of the child as the solid basis of human culture. v

Froebel was avowedly a loving pupil and disciple of Pestalozzi, and \
followed in his own kindergarten the principles and spirit of the j
methods of the Master. Greard thus states the needs of the child-aims
and processes of FrcebePfl child-culture : —

1. The taste for observation: —

"All the senses of the child are on the alert; all the objects which his
sight or his hand encounters attract him, interest him, delight him."
"2. The need of activity, tin; taste for construction: —

"It is not enough that we show him objects; it is necessary that he
touch them, that he handle them, that he appropriate them to him-
self. . . . He takes delight in constructing; he is naturally a geometrician
and artist."

3. Finally, the sentiment of personality: —

"He wishes to have his own place, his own occupation, his own
teacher."

Now Frcebel's method has precisely for its object the satisfaction of
these different instincts.

" To place the child before a common table," says Greard, "but with
his own chair and a place that belongs to him, so that he feels that he is
the owner of his little domain; to excite at the very beginning his good
will by the promise of an interesting game; to develop in succession
under his very eyes the marvels of the five gifts; to tench him in the
first place from concrete objects exposed to his sight, balls of colored
worsted and geometrical solids, to distinguish color, form, material, the
different parts of a body, -so as to accustom him to see, that is. to seize
the aspects, the figures, the resemblances, the differences, the relations of
things; then to place the objects in his hands, and to teach him to make
with the balls of colored worsted combinations of colors agreeable to the
eye, to arrange, with matches united by balls of cork, squares, angles,
triangles of all sorts, to set up little cubes in the form of crosses, pyra-
mids, etc.; — then either by means of strips of colored paper placed in
different directions, interlaced into one another, braided as a weaver
would make a fabric, or with the crayon to drill him in reproducing, in
creating, designs representing all the geometrical forms, so that to the
habit of observation is gradually joined that of invention; finally, while
his hand is busy in concert with his intelligence, and while his need of
activity is satisfied, to take advantage of this awakened and satisfied
attention to fix in his mind by appropriate questions some notions of the
properties and uses of forms, by relating them to some great principle of
general order, simple and fruitful, to mingle the practical lesson with
moral observations, drawn in particular from the incidents of the school
— this, in its natural progress and its normal development is the method
of Froebel."

PESTALOZZI

SELECTIONS FROM THE PUBLICATIONS OF PESTALOZZI.

[Translated or Revised for the American Journal of Education.]

THE choice of selections from the works of Pestalozzi is rendered diffi-
cult by the character of the mind that produced them. Taken as a whole,
they display remarkable powers of observation, considerable insight into
the operations of the mind and feelings, great appreciation of character,
and a graphic and forcible style. But to select from their whole extent
portions which shall give a connected view of his principles, is almost im-
possible, from the fact that his mind was strongly intuitional in tendency
and habit, and rapid and impulsive in action, and that his powers of re-
flection, combination, and logical expression were not correspondingly
great. Thus he often said too much or too little ; was contradictory or
inconsistent ; and has nowhere, even where expressly undertaking to do-
it, as in " How Gertrude Teaches Her Children" given an adequate
presentation of his principles or practice.

"Leonard and Gertrude" is presented as the book which, more than
any other one work, was the foundation of Pestalozzi's fame, and as in.
itself to the present generation a new and interesting picture of life in
the German Swiss villages of the last half of the last century. It
has also additional value as containing many of the author's views
on educational and social questions, although diffused throughout
the work.

A brief extract from " Christopher and Alice" is given, sufficient to
exhibit the mode of treatment of the subject. The work was compara-
tively a failure, and has moreover little interest to readers in this country
and this age, being closely and exclusively local in aim.

" The Evening Hour of a Hermit" is termed by Karl von Raumer
" the key of Pestalozzi's educational views." And Pestalozzi himself
observed, in his old age, that even at the early date of its composition,
he had already arrived at the fundamental principles which controlled the
labors and expositions of all his subsequent life.

The various addresses from which extracts are next given are interest-
ing as affording a view of one mode of communication between Pesta-
lozzi and his associates. They are doubtless freer and more spontaneous
expressions of his peculiar modes of thought and feeling than his more
formal expositions.

"Sow Gertrude Teaches Her Children" was intended by Pestalozzi
to give a logical and connected view of his methods of instruction, in,

PREFACE.

some detail The extracts presented embody the most important
portion of the work, and exhibit also some of his characteristic defects
in arrangement and exposition.

The extracts from the "Paternal Instructions " are valuable as a speci-
men of a mode of combining instruction in language with sound lessons
in morals ; upon a principle which Pestalozzi carried very far in theory,
and to a great extent in practice ; namely, that of teaching through one
and the same vehicle, if possible, in the departments both of intellect and
morals.

The London translation of "Leonard and Gertrude" with corrections,
has been followed in that work, except in the extracts added from the
subsequently written part of the book. The liberty has been taken of
extracting from Dr. Biber's valuable biography of Pestalozzi, his transla-
tion from "Christopher and Alice" and from the "Paternal Instructions"
The "Evening Hour of a Hermit" the extracts from the second part of
"Leonard and Gertrude" and from "How Gertrude Teaches Her Children"
and the several addresses of Pestalozzi, were translated by FREDERICK B.
PERKINS, Esq., of Hartford, Librarian of the Connecticut Historical So-
ciety ; and are from Cotta's edition of Pestalozzi's works, Yon Raumer's
"History of Education," or Christoffel's "Life and Views."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE

CONTENTS.

PACK.

CHAPTER I. — A kfnd-heaited man, who
yet makes his wife and children very un-
happy, 9

CHAPTKR n. — A woman who forms a reso-
lution, net- up to it, and finds a lord of the
manor, who has the heirt of a father to-
ward his dependents, 11

CHAPTKR in. — A brute appears, 13

CHAPTER iv.— He is with his own set, and it

is there that rogues show themselves, 15

CHAPTER v. — He finds his master, 16

CHAPTER vi. — Conversation amongst coun-
try people, 19

CHAPTKR vn. — The bailiff begins some bai-
liff's business 23

CHAPTKR VIH. — When the wheels are greased

the wagon goes, 24

CHAPTKR ix.— On the righu of the country, 25
CHAPTER x. — The barber's dog drinks up
wnter at an unlucky moment, and plays

the bailiff a sad trick 26

CHAPTKR xi. — Well-laid plots of a rogue,. . 28

CHAPTER xit. — Domestic happiness, 3()

CHAPTER XHI. — A proof that Gertrude was

dear to her husband 32

CHAPTER xiv.— Mean selfishness, 36

CHAPTER xv. — The wise goose lays an egg;
or, a blunder which costs a glass of wine,. 37

CHAPTER xvi.— The death-bed 38

CHAPTER xvn. — The sick woman's behavior 40
CHAPTER xvm. — A poor boy aaks pardon
for having stolen potatoes, and the sick

women dies, 43

CHAPTER xix. — Good spirits comfort, cheer,
and support a man, but anxiety is a con-
tinual torment, 45

CHAPTER xx. — Foolish gossiping leads to

idleness, 46

CHAPTER xxi. — Ingratitude and envy, 46

CHAPTER xxn. — Remorse for perjury can

not be allayed by crafty arts, 47

CHAPTER xxni. — A hypocrite, and a suffer-
ing woman, 49

CHAPTER xxiv. — An honest, joyful, thank-
ful heart 51

CHAPTER xxv. — How rogues talk to each
other,.. .. 51

PAOB,

CHAPTER xxvi. — Pride, in poverty and dis-
tress, leads to the most unnatural and horri-
ble deeds 52

CHAPTER xxvu. — Activity and industry,
without a kind and grateful heart, 54

CHAPTER XXVIH. — A Saturday evening in
the house of a bailiff, who is a land-
lord, 55

CHAPTER xxix.— Continuation of the con-
versation of rogues with each other, 57

CHAPTER xxx. — Continuation of the con-
versation of rogues with each other, in a
different style 60

CHAPTER xxxi. — The even ing before a Sab-
bath in the house of a good mother, 62

CHAPTER xxxn. — The happiness of the hour
of prayer, 63

CHAPTER xxxui. — The seriousness of the
hour of prayer, 64

CHAPTER xxxiv. — A mother's instruction,. 65

CHAPTER xxxv. — A Saturday even ing pray-

CHAPTER xxxvi. — Pure devotion and lift-
ing up of the soul to God, 67

CHAPTER xxxvu. — Kindness toward a poor
man,.. .. 69

CHAPTER xxxvm. — The pure and peaceful
greatness of a benevolent heart,. 73

CHAPTKR xxxix. — A sermon 74

CHAPTER XL. — A proof that the sermon was
good ; It, in. on knowledge and error, and
what is called oppressing the poor, 77

CHAPTER XLI. — A church-warden informs
the pastor of improper conduct, 81

CHAPTER XLII. — An addition to the morn-
ing's discourse, 82

CHAPTER XLIII.— The countrymen in the
tavern are disturbed, 82

CHAPTER XLIV. — Description of a wicked
man's feelings during the sacrament, 83

CHAPTER XLV. — The bailiff's wife tells her
husband some weighty truths, hut many
years too Inte, 84

CHAPTER XLVI.— Soliloquy of a man whose
thoughts unhappily lead him too far, 85

CHAPTER XLVII.— Domesticjinppinesson the
Sabbath da v 86

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

PAGE.

CHAPTER XLVIII. — Some observations upon
sin, 88

CHAPTER XLIX. — The character and educa-
tion of children, 88

CHAPTER L. — Conceit and bad habits inter-
fere with our happiness, even when we are
doing a kind action, 91

CHAPTER LI. — No man can tell what happy
consequences may result from even the
most trifling good action, 92

CHAPTER LII. — Early in the morning is too *
late for what ought to be done the evening
before, 93

CHAPTER LIII. — The more culpable a man
is himself, the more violently does he abuse
another who has done wrong 93

CHAPTER LIV. — Useless labor for poor peo-

pie,

CHAPTER LV. — A hypocrite makes friends
with a rogue, 94

CHAPTER LVI.— It is decided that the bailiff
must no longer be a landlord, 96

CHAPTER LVII. — His conduct upon the oc-
casion, 96

CHAPTER LVIII. — His companion, 97

CHAPTER LIX. — Explanation of a difficulty, 97

CHAPTER LX. — A digression, 98

CHAPTER LXI. — An old man lays open his
heart 98

CHAPTER LXII. — The horrors of an uneasy
conscience, 1UO

CHAPTER LXIII. — Kindness and sympathy
«ave a wretched man from becoming utter-
ly distracted, 100

CHAPTER LXIV. — A pastor's treatment of a
case of conscience 100

CHAPTER LXV. — There is often a delicacy
in the poorest people, even when they are
receiving favors for which they have
asked, 102

CHAPTER LXVI.— A forester who does not
believe in ghosts, 103

CHAPTER LXVII. — A man who desires to
remove a landmark, and would willingly
disbelieve in the existence of spirits, but
dares not 104

CHAPTER LXVIII. — The setting sun, and a
poor, lost wretch, 104

CHAPTER LXIX. — How a man should con-
duct himself, who would prosper in the
management of others, 105

CHAPTER LXX. — A man who is a rogue and
thief behaves honorably, and the mason's
wife shows her good sense, 105

CHAPTER LXXI.— The catastrophe draws
r~*r.. .. 107

PACK
CHAPTER LXXII. — His last hope forsakes

the bailiff, ............................ 108

CHAPTER LXXIII. — He sets about removing

the landmark, ......................... 108

CHAPTER LXXIV.— Night greatly deceives

drunkards and rogues, especially when

they are in trouble, ................... 100-

CHAPTER LXXV. — The village is in an up-

roar .................................. 109

CHAPTER LXXVI. — The pastor comes to the

tavern, ............................... 110

CHAPTER LXXVII. — Care of souls ......... Ill

CHAPTER LXXVHI. — Two letters from the

pastor to Arner, ........ . .............. 114.

First letter, ........................... 114

Second letter, ..................... ____ 114

CHAPTER LXXIX. — The poulterer's informa-

tion, ................................. 115

CHAPTER LXXX.— The squire's answer to

the pastor, ............................ 116-

CHAPTER LXXXI. — A good cow-man, ..... 117

CHAPTER LXXXII. — A coachman who loves

his master's son, ....................... 117

CHAPTER LXXXIII. — The squire with his

workmen, ............................ 118

CHAPTER LXXXIV — A squire and a pastor,

who have equally kind hearts, .......... 118

CHAPTER LXXXV. — The squire's feelings

toward his guilty bailiff, ................ 119

CHAPTER LXXXVI. — The pastor again shows

his kindness of heart ................... 119

CHAPTER LXXXVII. — On a cheerful disposi-

tion, and on ghosts, .................... 120

CHAPTER LXXXVIII. — On ghosts, in a differ-

ent tone, .............................. 123

CHAPTER LXXXIX. — A judgment, ......... 124

CHAPTER xc. — The proposal of Hartknopf,

the church-warden, .................... 125

CHAPTER xci. — The squire's reply, ....... 126

CHAPTER xcii.— Speech of the poulterer to

the meeting, .................... ...... 127

CHAPTER xcni.— The poor are gainers by

the comedy, .......................... 128

CHAPTER xciv. — The squire thanks the pas-

tor

12»

CHAPTER xcv.— The squire asks forgiveness
from a poor man, whom his grandfather
had injured, 130

CHAPTER xcvi. — Generosity of a poor man
toward his enemy, 131

CHAPTER xcvii. — His gratitude to the

.. 132

squire,

CHAPTER xcvm.— A scene to touch the

heart 132

CHAPTER xcix.— A pleasing prospect,.... 133
CHAPTER c.— The poulterer's reward,.... 133

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

HEADER — In the following pages I have attempted, through the medium of a tale,
to communicate some important truths to the people, in the way most likely to
make an impression upon their understandings and their feelings.

It has also been my endeavor, to ground both the tale and the instructions
derived from it, upon the most careful imitation of nature, and upon the simple
description of what is every where to be found.

In what is here related, (the greatest part of which I have, in the course of an
active life, myself observed,) I have been careful never to set down my own opin-
ions, instead of what I have seen and heard the people themselves feel, judge, sayr
and attempt.

If my observations be just, and if I have been successful in my endeavor to
give them with the simplicity of truth, they will be well received by all thoser
before whose eyes the things which I relate are continually passing. If they be
false, if they be the creatures of my imagination, the trifles of my own brain,
they will, like other Sunday discourses, be forgotten on the Monday.

I will say no more, except to add two passages which appear calculated to illus-
trate my opinions as to the means to be adopted for a wise instruction of the
people.

The first is from a work of our immortal Luther ; every line of whose pen
breathes humanity, insight into the character of the people, and a desire to in-
struct them. He says : —

" The holy scriptures are so graciously adapted to our wants, that they do not
tell us merely of the great deeds of holy men, but also relate their common dis-
course, and disclose to us the inmost motives and principles of their hearts."

The second is from the writings of a Jewish Eabbi, and, according to a Latin
translation, is as follows : —

" There were amongst the heathen nations, who dwelt round about the inherit-
ance of Abraham, men full of wisdom, whose equals were not to be found far or
near. These said : ' Let us go to the kings and to their great men, and teach them
how to make the people happy upon the earth.'

"And the wise men went out, and learned the language of the houses of the
kings and of their great men, and spoke to the kings and to their great men, in
their own language.

" And the kings and the great men praised the wise men, and gave them gold,,
and silk, and frankincense ; but treated the people as before. And the wise men
were blinded by the gold, and the silk, and the frankincense, and no longer saw
that the kings and the great men behaved ill and foolishly to all the people who
lived upon the earth.

"But a man of our nation reproved the wise men of the heathens, and waft
kind to the beggar upon the highway ; and took the children of the thief, of th»

524 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

what a mother's heart, almost without means or help, can do for her children. It
is equally false to say that mothers have no time to attend to the first formation,
of the minds and feelings of their children. Most of them, particularly those
who live at home, have their children with them a great part of the day ; and
why can not they, whilst they are at work, as well behave to them, and talk to
them, in a way which will instruct and improve them, as in one which will do
neither? A mother's instruction requires no art. It is nothing but to excite the
child to an active observation of the things which surround it. It is nothing but
a regular exercise of the senses, of the warm feelings of the heart, of the powers
of speech, and of the natural activity of the body. All that is necessary is to
second the feelings of mothers, and their already prepared, and, as I may say, in-
stinctively simple and upright understandings, and to place in their power the
necessary means, so prepared as they may best use them.

Good mothers ! let it not be unjustly said, any longer, that you have not under-
standing and strength for what, in your circumstances, is your highest and holiest
duty. If you once go so far as to weep in the stillness of your chambers, because
the good Gertrude did more for her children than you have hitherto done for
yours, I am sure you will then try whether it be not possible to do what she did -r
and it is when you are arrived at this point, that I wish to offer you my element-
ary books.

My heart here bids me be silent; but one word more ! Whoever wishes to do
his duty to God, to posterity, to public right, and public order, and to the security
of family happiness, must, in one way or other, accord with the spirit of my
book, and seek the same object. This is my comfort. When these truths are
ripened, as ripen they must, they will bear fruit; when they are become fitted for
the poor and desolate, they will be enjoyed by them. Many good men and
women, who have hitherto been unable, notwithstanding the best inclinations, to
give a good piece of advice to a neighbor, will become the fathers and mothers of
the poor and desolate. It is to this strength and greatness that I seek to elevate
the minds and hearts of the nobles, and of the people, of my native country.
After my death, may men of matured powers proceed in this great object of my
life ; and, before I close my eyes, may I enjoy the happiness of seeing both my
object and the means which I employ to attain it, no longer misunderstood.

Alas ! this misunderstanding prevents the happiness of thousands, who, but
for it, would every where find wise and powerful assistance.

PBSTALOZZJ.

BURODOBF, November, 1808.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

CHAPTER r. — A KIND-HEARTED MAN, WHO YET MAKES HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN

VERY UNHAPPY.

THERE lived in Bonual, a mason. He was called Leonard, and his wife, Ger-
trude. He had seven children and some property, but he had this fault ; that
he often let himself be tempted to the tavern. When he was once seated there,
•he behaved like a madman ; — and there are in our village, cunning, good-for-
nothing rogues, whose sole employment and business it is, to take in honest and
simple people, and seize every opportunity of getting hold of their money.
These were acquainted with poor Leonard, and often led him on from drinking
to gaming, and thus cheated him of the produce of his labor. Whenever this
•had. happened over-night, Leonard repented in the morning, and it went to his
heart when he saw Gertrude and his children wanting bread, so that he trembled,
wept, and cast down his eyes to conceal his tears.

Gertrude was the best wife in the village ; but she and her blooming children
were in danger of being robbed of their father, and driven from their home, and
•of sinking into the greatest misery, because Leonard could not let wine alone.

Gertrude saw the approaching danger, and felt it most keenly. When she
.fetched grass from the meadow, when she took hay from the loft, when she set
away the milk in her clean pans, whatever she was doing, she was tormented
by the thought that her meadow, her haystack, and her little hut, might soon be
taken away from her ; and when her children were standing around her, or sit-
ting in her lap, her anguish was still greater, and the tears streamed down her
•cheeks.

Hitherto, however, she had been able to conceal this silent weeping from her
children ; but on Wednesday, before last Easter, when she had waited long and
•her husband did not come home, her grief overcame her, and the children ob-
-served her tears. "Oh mother," exclaimed they all with one voice, "you are
weeping," and pressed themselves closer to her. Sorrow and anxiety were on
every countenance — anxious sobs, heavy, downcast looks, and silent tears, sur-
rounded the mother, and even the baby in her arms, betrayed a feeling of pain
hitherto unknown — his first expression of care and sorrow, his staring eyes
which, for the first time, were fixed upon her without a smile — all this quite
broke her heart. Her anguish burst out in a loud cry, and all the children and
the baby wept with their mother, and there was a dreadful sound of lamentation
just as Leonard opened the door.

Gertrude lay with her face on the bed; heard not the opening of the door,
•and saw not the entrance of the father ; neither did the children perceive him.
They saw only their weeping mother, and hung on her arm and round her neck,
*nd by her clothes. Thus did Leonard find them.

God in heaven sees the tears of the wretched, and puts a limit to their grief
G-ertrude found in her tears the mercy of God. The mercy of God brought

526 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Leonard to witness this scene, which pierced through his soul, so that his limbs
trembled. The paleness of death was upon his countenance, and he could
scarcely articulate, with a hasty and broken voice: "Lord Jesus! what is this?"
Then the mother saw him for the first time, the children looked up, and their
loud exclamations of grief were hushed. "0 mother! here is our father," said
the children all at once, and even the baby sobbed no longer.

As a torrent, or a raging flame, did their wild anguish subside into quiet,
thoughtful anxiety. Gertrude loved Leonard, and in her deepest distress his
presence was always a comfort. Leonard's horror also was now less overwhelm-
ing than at first.

" Tell me, Gertrude," said he, "what is this dreadful trouble in which I find
thee?"

"0 my dear," answered Gertrude, "heavy cares press upon my heart, and
when thou art away sorrow preys more keenly upon me."

" Gertrude," said Leonard, "I know why thou weepest, wretch that I ami'1

Then Gertrude sent away the children, and Leonard hid his face on her neck,
juia could not speak.

Gertrude too was silent for a few moments, and leaned sorrowfully against her
husband, who wept and sobbed on her neck.

At last she collected all her strength, and took courage to urge him not to
bring any further trouble and misery upon his children.

Gertrude was pious, and trusted in God ; and before she spoke, she prayed
silently for her husband and for her children ; and her heart was evidently com-
forted as she said, "Leonard ! trust hi the mercy of God, and take courage to
do nothing but what is right."

"0 Gertrude, Gertrude!" exclaimed Leonard, and wept, and his tears fell in
torrents.

"0 my love! take courage and trust in thy Father in heaven, and all will be
better with thee. It goes to my heart to make thee weep. My love, I would
gladly keep every trouble from thee. Thou knowest that, by thy side, I could
be content with bread and water, and the still midnight is often to me an hour
of cheerful labor, for thee and my children. But, if I concealed my anxiety from
thee, lest I be separated from thee and these dear little ones, I should be no
mother to my children, nor true to thee. Our children are yet full of gratitude
and love toward us, — but, my Leonard, if we do not continue to act as parents,
their love and tenderness, to which I trust so much, must needs decrease, and
think too what thou wilt feel, when thy Nicholas has no longer a home of his
own, and must go out to service. He who now talks with so much delight of
freedom and his own little flock. Leonard I if he, and all these dear children,
should become poor through our fault, should cease to thank us in their hearts,
and begin to weep for us their parents — Leonard! couldst thou bear to see thy
Nicholas, thy Jonas, thy Liseli, and thy little Anneli, driven out of doors to seek
their bread at another's table ? Oh ! it would kill me to see it." So spoke Ger-
trude, and the tears fell down her cheeks.

And Leonard was not less affected. " What shall I do, miserable creature
that I am ? What can I do ? I am yet more wretched than thou knowest of—
0 Gertrude ! Gertrude!" Then he was again silent, wrung his hands and wept
in extreme misery.

" Oh, my dear husband, do not mistrust God's mercy ! Whatever it be, speak
that we may consult together, and comfort each other."

,

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 52Y

OjAPTER II. — A WOMAN WHO FORMS A RESOLUTION, ACTS UP TO IT, AND FINDS-

A LORD OF THE MANOR, WHO HAS THE HEART OF A FATHER TOWARD

HIS DEPENDENTS.

u OH Gertrude, Gertrude I it breaks my heart to tell thee my distress and add
to thy anxieties ; and yet I must do it. I owe Hummel, the bailiff, thirty florins ;
and he is a hound to those who are in debt to him, and not a man. I wish I
uad never seen his face 1 If I do not go to his house, he threatens me with law ;
and if I do go, the wages of my labor are in his claws. This, Gertrude, this is
the source of our misfortunes."

" My dear husband," replied Gertrude, " canst thou not go to Arner, the father
of the country ? Thou knowest how all the widows and orphans praise him. I
think he would give thee counsel and protection against this man."

" 0 Gertrude," said Leonard, " I can not, I dare not. What could I say against
the bailiff? He would bring up a thousand different things against me 1 He ia
bold and cunning, and has a hundred ways and means of crying down a poor
man before a magistrate, so that he may not be heard."

Gertrude. Dear husband, I never yet spoke to a magistrate, but if necessity
and want carried me to him, I am sure I could speak the truth to any man. 0
do not be afraid ; think of me, and of thy children, and go.

"Gertrude," said Leonard, "I can not, I dare not. I am not free from fault.
The bailiff will coolly take the whole village to witness that I am a drunkard.
0 Gertrude, I am not blameless. "What can I say? Nobody will stand up
against him and say that he enticed me to it all. 0 Gertrude, if I could, if I
durst, how gladly would I go ; but if ventured, and did not succeed, think how
he would revenge himself."

Gertrude. But even if thou art silent he will nevertheless bring thee to ruin,
without a chance of escape. Leonard, think of thy children, and go. This
anxiety of heart must have an end. Go, — or I will go myself

Leonard. Gertrude, I dare not. If thou darest, for God's sake, go directly ta
Arner, and tell him all.

"I will go," said Gertrude; and she did not sleep one hour that night; but
she prayed during that sleepless night, and was more and more resolved to go ta
Arner, the lord of the manor.

Early in the morning she took her baby, which bloomed like a rose, and went
six miles, to the hall.

Arner was sitting under his lime-trees, before the door of his house, as Ger-
trude approached ; he saw her, he saw the baby in her arms, and upon her
countenance sorrow and suffering, and the traces of tears. " What do you want
my good woman ? Who are you ?" said he, so kindly that she took courage to
speak,

"I am Gertrude," said she, "the wife of Leonard, the mason of Bonnal."

"You are an excellent woman," said Arner. " I have observed your children
more than all the rest in the village ; they are more modest and better behaved
than any of the others ; and they appear better fed. And yet I hear you are
very poor. Tell me what you wish for."

" 0 gracious sir, my husband has, for some time past, owed Urias Hummel,
the bailiff, thirty florins ; and he is a hard man. He entices him to gaming, and
all kinds of waste ; and because he is afraid of him, he dare not keep away from
hia tavern, though it costs him, almost every day, his wages and his children's

528 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

bread. Honored sir ! he has seven young children, and without help and coun-
sel against the bailiff it is impossible that we should escape beggary. I know
that you have compassion upon the widow and the orphan, and therefore I have
made bold to come to you, and tell you our misfortunes. I have brought with
me all my children's savings, to leave them with you, if I might venture to beg
you to make some agreement for us, so that the bailiff, till he is paid, may not
oppress and injure us any more."

Arner had long had suspicions of the bailiff. He perceived, therefore, imme-
diately, the truth of this complaint, and the wisdom of what she asked. He took
a cup of tea which stood before him, and said — " You are tired, Gertrude ; drink
this tea, and give your pretty child some of this milk."

Gertrude stood blushing ; and this paternal kindness went to her heart, so that
she could not restrain her tears. And Arner encouraged her to tell him what
the bailiff and his companions had done, and the wants and cares of many years.
He listened attentively, and than asked her, " How have you been able, Ger-
trude, through all this distress to keep your children's money?"

Then Gertrude answered: — "It was difficult indeed, gracious sir, to do so;
but I always looked upon the money as not my own, as if some dying man had
given it me on his death-bed to keep for his children. I considered it almost in
this light ; and if ever, in the time of our greatest need, I was obliged to buy
the children bread with it, I never rested till I had made it up again for them by
night labor."

"Was that always possible, Gertrude?" said Arner.

" 0 gracious sir, if we have once set our hearts upon any thing, we can do
more than we could imagine possible, and God always helps us in our greatest
need, if we are really doing our best to get what is absolutely necessary. 0
gracious sir, he helps us more than you in your magnificence can know or
imagine."

Arner was deeply affected by the innocence and goodness of this poor woman ;
he made still further inquiries; and said^ "Gertrude, where is this money?"

Then Gertrude laid down seven neat parcels upon Arner's table ; and to every
parcel was fastened a ticket, saying whose it was, and when Gertrude had taken
any thing away from it, and how she had replaced it.

Arner read the tickets over attentively. Gertrude saw it, and blushed: "I
ought to have taken away these tickets, gracious sir."

Arner smiled, and read on; but Gertrude stood there abashed, and her
heart throbbed on account of these tickets ; for she was modest, and troubled at
the least appearance of vanity.

Arner saw her uneasiness because she had not taken off the tickets, and felt
the simple dignity of innocence, as she stood ashamed that her goodness and
prudence were noticed ; and he resolved to befriend her more than she asked or
hoped for; for he felt her worth, and that no woman was like her among a thou-
sand. He added something to each of the parcels, and said "Take back your
children's money, Gertrude, and I will lay down thirty florins for the bailiff, till
he is paid. Go home, now, Gertrude ; to-morrow I shall be in the village, and
I will settle matters between you and Hummel."

Gertrude could not speak for joy; scarcely could she stammer out a broken,
sobbing — " Heaven reward you, gracious sir!" and then she went with her baby
<ind with the comfort she had obtained, to her husband. As she went, she

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 529

prayed and thanked God all the way, and wept tears of gratitude and hope, till
she came to her cottage.

Leonard saw her coming, and saw the joy of her heart in her countenance.

" Art thou here again so soon ?" sak je, going to meet her. " Thou hast been
successful with Arner."

" How dost thou know that already ?" said Gertrude.

" I see it in thy face, thou excellent creature, thou canst not conceal it."

"That can I not," said Gertrude, " and I would not, if I could, keep the good
•news a moment from thee, Leonard." Then she related to him Arner's kind-
ness ; how he had believed her words, and how he had promised to help them.
And she gave the children Arner's present, and kissed them all, more fondly
and cheerfully than she had done for a long time past ; and said to them : " Pray
every day for Arner, my children, as you pray for your father and me. Arner
-cares for .the welfare of all the country ; he cares for your welfare ; and if you
are good and well-behaved, and industrious, you will be dear to him, as you are
•\ear to me and to your father."

From that time forward the mason's children, every morning and evening,
,v'hen they prayed for their father and mother, prayed also for Arner, the father
of the country.

Gertrude and Leonard made fresh resolutions to look after the management
•of the house, and to bring up their children in every good way ; and this day
was a festival to them. Leonard's courage was renewed, and in the evening
Gertrude prepared for him a supper that he was fond of; and they rejoiced to-
gether over the coming morning, the assistance of Arner, and the mercy of their
God.

Arner, too, longed for the next morning, that he might do a deed, such as he
did by thousands, to make his existence useful.

CHAPTER in. — A BRUTE APPEARS.

AND when his bailiff came to him, that evening, to receive his orders, he said
to him, " I am coming myself to Bonnal, to-morrow. I am determined to have
the building of the church begun at last." The bailiff replied : " Gracious sir,
is your grace's master-builder at liberty now? "No," answered Arner, "but
there is a mason in the village, of the name of Leonard, whom I shall be glad
to employ in this affair. Why have you never recommended him to me before
as a workman ?"

The bailiff made a low bow, and said : " I durst not have employed the poor
mason in any of your magnificence's buildings."

Arner. " Is he a trusty man, bailiff, upon whom I can depend?"
Riiliff. " Yes — your grace may depend upon him ; he is a very honest fellow."
"They say he has an excellent wife ; is she not a talker?" said Arner em-
phatically.

"No, indeed," replied the bailiff, "she is a hard-working, quiet woman."
" Very well," said Arner, " be at the church-yard to-morrow morning, at nine
o'clock. I will meet you there myself."

The bailiff went away, well pleased with this conversation ; for he thought
within himself this is a fresh cow for my stall ; and he already turned over in
<iis mind the tricks by which he should get from the mason, the money he might
gain by this building of the church. He went straight home, and then to the
mason's cottage. 34

530 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

1 1 \vas already dark, as he knocked impatiently at the door.

Leonard and Gertrude were sitting by the table. The remains of the supper
were still before them. Leonard knew the voice of the envious bailiff, started,
and pushed the food into a corner.

(!ert rude encouraged him not to bo afraid, and to trust in Arner; but he
turned pale as he opened the door for the bailiff.

The latter smelt out the concealed supper as quick as a hungry hound, but he
behaved civilly, and said, though with a smile; "You are well off, good people;
it is easy to do without the tavern at this rate. Is it not, Leonard?"

The poor man cast down his eyes and was silent ; but Gertrude was bolder,
and said : "What are the bailiff's commands ? It is seldom that he comes fur-
ther than to the window of such a poor house as this."

Hummel concealed his anger, laughed, and said : " It is very true that I
should not have expected to find such good cooking here ; or perhaps I might
have invited myself."

This vexed Gertrude. "Bailiff," said she, "you smell our supper, and grudge
it us. When a poor man is enjoying a supper he likes, and which perhaps he
does not get three times in a year, you should be ashamed to come in and spoil
it."

"I had no such wicked intention," said the bailiff, still laughing. But soon
afterward, he added more seriously, " You are too insolent, Gertrude ; it does
not become poor people. You should remember that we may have something to
do with each other yet. But I will not begin upon this at present. I am always
kindly disposed toward your husband ; and whenever I can, I serve him. Of
this I can give proof."

Gertrude. " Bailiff, my husband is enticed away, every day, to drink and game
in your tavern, and then must I and my children, at home, suffer every possible
misery. This is the service we have to thank you for."

Hummel. "You do me wrong, Gertrude. It is true that your husband ia
somewhat inclined to drinking. I have often told him so. But in my tavern,
I can not refuse any man what he asks for, to eat and drink. Every body does
the same."

Ger. "Yes; but every body does not threaten a poor unfortunate man witb
law, if he does not double his reckoning every year."

Here the bailiff could restrain himself no longer; he turned in a rage to
Leonard: " Are you such a pitiful fellow, Leonard, as to tell these tales of me?
Must I have it thrown into my very beard, what you ragamuffins are going to-
bring upon the credit and good name of an old man like me ? Did I not reckon
with you a short time ago, before the overseer ? It is well that all the tickets
are in my hands. Will you deny my claims, Leonard?"

" That is not the question," said Leonard. " Gertrude only wants me to make
no fresh debts."

The bailiff considered a little, lowered his tone, and said: " There is nothing
so much amiss in that. But you are the master — she does not wish to tie you
up in leading-strings ?"

Ger. "Far from it, bailiff. I only wish to get him out of the leading-strings
in which lie is now fast — and that is your book, bailiff, and those beautiful
tickets."

Hum. " He has only to pay me, and then he will be out of the leading-strings,,
as you call them, in a twinkl i^."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 531

Ger. " He will well be able to do that, if he makes no fresh debts."

Hum. "You are proud, Gertrude — we shall see. Confess the truth, Ger-
trude ! you would rather sit junketing with him alone at home, than let him
enjoy a glass of wine with me."

Ger. "You are a mean fellow, bailiff; but your speeches do me no harm."

Hummel could not continue this conversation any longer. He felt that some-
thing must have happened to make this woman so bold. Therefore he durst not
indulge his anger, and took his leave.

"Have you any further commands?" said Gertrude.

"None if this is to be the way;" answered Hummel.

" What way ?" replied Gertrude, smiling, and looking steadily in his face.

This put the bailiff still more out of countenance, so that he knew not how
to behave.

He went out, muttering to himself down the steps ; what can be the meaning
of all this ?

Leonard was not easy about the business, and the bailiff was still less so.

CHAPTER iv. — HE is WITH HIS OWN SET, AND IT is THERE THAT ROGUES SHOW

THEMSELVES.

IT was now near midnight, and as soon as he got home, he sent for two of
Leonard's neighbours, to come to him directly.

They were hi bed when he sent, but got up again, without delay, and went
to him through the dark night.

And he inquired about every thing which Leonard and Gertrude had done-
for some days past. But as they could tell him nothing which threw any light,
upon the subject, he turned his rage against them.

"You hounds, if one wants any thing from you, you are never ready with it,
I don't know why I should always be your fool. Whenever you trespass in the
woods, or steal fodder, — I am to take no notice of it. — When you turn cattle
into the squire's pastures and destroy the hedges — I must not say a word" —

"You, Bullerl more than a third part of thy reckoning was false, and I was
silent about it. Dost thou think that bit of mouldy hay was enough to content
me ? but the year is not yet passed over. And you, Kruel I Thy half meadow
belongs to thy brother's children. You old thief! what good hast thou done
to me, that I should not give thee up to the hangman, whose property thou art? "

These speeches frightened the neighbors.

"What can we do? What must we do, Mr. Bailiff? By night or by day,
we are always ready to do what you ask us."

"You dogs! You can do nothing — you know nothing — I am half mad with
rage. I must know what the mason's people have been about this week — what
is hidden hi that poke." Thus he went on.

In the mean time Kruel recollected himself.

" Hold, bailiff, I have just thought of something. Gertrude went over the
fields this morning ; and this evening, her Liseli was praising the squire at the well.
She must surely have been to the hall. The evening before, there was a great
lamentation in the cottage ; nobody knew why. To-day they are all cheerful
again."

The bailiff was now convinced that Gertrude had been to the hall. Anger
and alarm raged still more fiercely in his soul.

He uttered horrible curses, abused Arner violently for listening to every beg-

532 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

garly wretch ; and swore to have revenge upon Leonard and Gertrude. " But
you must say nothing about it, neighbors. I will treat these people civilly, till
all is ripe. Look carefully after what they do, and bring me word — I will be
your man when you want help."

Then he took Buller aside, and said. " Dost thou know any thing of the stolen
flower-pots? Thou wert seen, yesterday, going over the borders with a laden
ass. What wert thou carrying off?

Buller started. "I— I— had— " "Come, come," said the bailiff "be faithful
to me, and I will help thee at a pinch."

Then the neighbors went away, but it was already near dawn.

And Hummel threw himself on his bed for about an hour — started, thought
of vengeance, gnashed his teeth in uneasy slumber, and kicked with his feet —
till the clear day called him from his bed.

He resolved to see Leonard once more, to master himself, and to tell him that
Arner had appointed him to build the church. He summoned all his powers
of deceiving, and went to him.

Gertrude and Leonard had slept more peacefully this night than they had
done for a long time past; and^at the dawn of morning they prayed for a bless-
ing upon the day. They hoped also for prompt help from Father Arner. This
hope spread tranquillity of soul, and unwonted delightful serenity around them.

Thus did Hummel find them. He saw how it was, and Satan entered into
his heart, so that he was more than ever inflated with rage ; but he commanded
himself, wished them civilly good morning, and said :

"Leonard, we parted in anger with each other last night; but this must not
last. I have some good news for thee. I am come from our gracious master;
he has been speaking of building the church, and inquired about thee. I said
thou wert equal to the work, and I think he will give it thee. This is the way
neighbors can serve one another — we must not be so easily vexed."

Leonard. "He has agreed with his master-builder to build the church. You
told the whole village so, long ago."

Hummel. " I thought it was so ; but it proves a mistake. The master-builder
has only made an estimate of it, and thou mayest easily believe he has not for-
gotten his own profit. If thou undertakest it according to this reckoning, thou
mayst gather up gold like leaves. Leonard, see now how well I mean by thee."

The mason was overcome by the hope of having the work, and thanked him
cordially. But Gertrude saw that the bailiff was white with smothered rage,
and that bitter wrath was concealed under his smiles; and she could not yet re-
joice. The bailiff retired, and as he went, he added, " "Within an hour Arner
\rill be here." And Leonard's daughter Lise, who was standing by her father,
said to the bailiff,

" We have known that ever since yesterday."

Hummel started at these words, but pretended not to hear them.

And Gertrude, who saw that the bailiff was lying in wait for the money,
which might be gained by the building of the church, was very uneasy about it.

CHAPTER v. — HE FINDS HIS MASTER.

IN the mean time Anier came to the churchyard, and many people collected
together from the village to see the good squire.

" Are you so idle, or is this a holiday, that you have so much time to be gossip-
ing here ? said the bailiff to some who stood too near him ; for he always took care

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 533

that nobody should hear the orders he received. But Arner observed it and
said aloud: "Bailiff, I like my children to remain in the churchyard, and to
hear, themselves, how I will arrange about the building. Why do you drive
them away ? "

Hummel bowed down to the ground, and called aloud to the neighbors :
" Come back again ! his grace will allow it."

Arner. " Have you seen the estimate for the building of the church ?"

Bai'Aff. " Yes, gracious sir."

Arrier. "Do you think Leonard can make the building good and durable, at
this price ?"

"Yes, gracious sir," answered the bailiff; and he added in a lower tone,
" I think, as he lives on the spot, he might perhaps undertake it for something
less."

But Arner said aloud, " As much as I would have given to my master-builder,
so much will I give him. Call him here, and take care that he has as much
from the wood and from the magazine as the master-builder would have had."

A few moments before Arner sent to call him, Leonard had gone to the upper
village, and Gertrude resolved to go back herself to the churchyard with the
messenger, and tell Arner her anxieties.

When the bailiff saw Gertrude coming back with the messenger instead of
Leonard, he turned pale.

Arner observed it, and said, "What is the matter, bailiff?"

Bailiff. " Nothing, gracious sir! nothing at all ; only I did not sleep well last
night."

"One may tell that by your looks," said Arner, looking steadily into his in-
flamed eyes. Then he turned to Gertrude, spoke to her kindly, and said, " Is
your husband not with you ? You must tell him to come to me. I will intrust
the building of this church to him."

Gertrude stood for a few moments silent, and durst not say a word before so
many people.

Arner. " Why do you not speak, Gertrude ? I will give your husband the
work, upon the same terms on which my master-builder would have had it.
This ought to please you, Gertrude."

Gertrude had now recovered herself, and said, " Gracious sir, the church is so
near the tavern."

All the people began to smile ; and as most of them wished to conceal this
from the bailiff, they turned away from him toward Arner.

The bailiff, who clearly saw that Arner had perceived it all, got up in a pas-
sion, went toward Gertrude, and said, " What have you to say against my tavern?"

Arner quickly interrupted him and said, " Is this your affair, bailiff, that you
interfere about it ?" Then he turned again to Gertrude, and said, " What do you
mean? Why is the church too near the tavern?"

Ger. "Gracious sir, my husband is easily enticed away by wine; and if he
works every day so near the tavern, I am afraid he will not be able to resist."

Arner. "But can not he avoid the tavern, if it is so dangerous to him?"

Ger. "Gracious sir, when people are working hard, and get heated, it makes
them very thirsty ; and if he has always before his eyes people drinking together,
and trying to entice him by every kind of joviality, and jesting, and buying
wine, and laying wagers, oh 1 how will he be able to resist ? and if he once gets
ever so little into debt again, he is fast. Gracious sir, if you only knew how

034 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

one single evening, in such houses, can bring poor people into slavery and
snares, out of which it is scarcely possible to escape again!"

Arner. " I do know it, Gertrude ! and I am angry about what you told me
yesterday ; and therefore, before your eyes, and before the eyes of all these peo-
ple, I will show that I will not have the poor oppressed and ID-used. Then he
turned to the bailiff, and said, with a solemn voice, and a look which thrilled
through his bones and marrow : " Bailiff! is it true, that poor people are op-
pressed, and misled, and cheated in your house ?"

Confused, and pale as death, the bailiff answered: " Gracious sir, such a thing
never happened to me before hi my life, — and so long as I live, and am

bailiff" ; he wiped the perspiration from his face— coughed — cleared his

throat, and began again. "It is dreadful" .

Arner. " You are disturbed, bailiff ! The question is a simple one. Is it true,
that you oppress the poor, and lay snares for them in your tavern, so as to make
their homes unhappy ?"

Bailiff. ' ' N"o, certainly not, gracious sir ! This is the reward one gets for serving
such beggarly folks. I might have foreseen it. One always gets such thanks
instead of payment."

Arner. " Trouble not yourself about payment now. The question is, whether
this woman lies."

Bailiff. " Yes, certainly, gracious sir! I will prove it a thousand fold."

Arner. " Once is enough, bailiff! but take care. You said yesterday, that
Gertrude was a good, quiet, hard-working woman, and no talker."

"I don't know — I — I — thought — you have — I thought — her so ," said

the gasping bailiff.

Arner. " You are so troubled, bailiff, that there is no speaking to you now. It
will be better for me to find it out from these neighbors here ; and immediately
he turned to two old men who stood by quietly, and with interest, observing
what passed, and said to them, ' Is it true, good neighbors ? are the people led
away to evil, and oppressed in the tavern ?' The two men looked at each other,
and durst not speak."

But Arner encouraged them kindly. "Do not be afraid! Tell me the plain
truth!"

"It is but too true, gracious sir; but how can we poor people venture to com-
plain against the bailiff?" said the elder of the two at last, but in so Imv a voice.
that only Arner could hear it.

"It is enough, old man," said Arner; and then turned to the luiliff.

"I can not, at present, inquire fully into this complaint; but certainly I will
have my poor people secure against all oppression ; and I have long thought
that no bailiff should keep tavern. But 1 will defer this till Monday. Gertrude,
tell your husband to come to me; and be easy, on his account, about the
tavern."

Then Arner transacted some other business ; and when he had done, he went
into the forest hard by ; and it was late when he arrived at home. The bailiff,
too, who was obliged to follow him into the forest, did not get back to the vil-
lage till it was night.

When he came to his house, and saw no. light in the room, and heard no
voices, he foreboded some misfortune ; for usually the house was full every eve-
ning, and all the windows were lighted up by the candles which stood upon the
tables ; and the shouts of those \vlio were drinking, always sounded through

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 535

the still night, so that you might have heard them at the bottom of the street,
though it is a long one, and the bailiff's house stands at the top.

The bailiff was very much startled by this unusual silence. He opened his
door impatiently, and said, "What is this? what is this? "Why is nobody
here ?"

His wife was sobbing in a corner. <; Oh husband! Art thou comeback?
Oh what a misfortune has befallen us ! There is a jubilee of thy enemies in the
village, and no man dares come and drink a single glass of wine with us.
They all say thou hast been taken through the forest to Arnburg."

As an imprisoned wild boar foams in the trap, opens his jaws, rolls about his
eyes, and roars with anger; so did Hummel rage. He stamped, and was full
of fury, plotted revenge against Arner, and cursed him for his goodness. Then
he spoke to himself:

"Is this the way to have justice done in the country? He will take away
my license from me, and be the only person to hang up a sign in the manor.
In the memory of man, the bailiffs have all been landlords. All affairs have
gone through our hands. But this man thrusts himself into every thing,
like a village schoolmaster. Therefore every knave is become insolent to the
constables, and says he can speak to Arner himself. Thus the law loses all its
credit, and we sit still under it and are silent, pitiful creatures as we are, whilst
he thus wrongs arid alters the rights of the land."

Thus did the old rogue misrepresent to himself the good and wise actions of
his excellent master, raged and plotted revenge, till he fell asleep.

CHAPTER vi. — CONVERSATION AMONGST COUNTRY PEOPLE.

IN the morning he rose early, and sang and whistled at his window, that peo-
ple might think he was perfectly easy about what had happened yesterday. But
Fritz, his neighbor, called to him across the street: "Hast thou customers so
early, that thou art so merry?" and he smiled to himself as he said it.

"They will be coining soon, Fritz! Hopsasa and Heisasa! Plums are not
figs," said the bailiff; and he held a glass of brandy out of the window, and
said: "Wilt thou pledge me, Fritz?"

"It is too soon for me," answered Fritz, "I will wait till there is more com-
pany."

"Thou wert always a wag," said the bailiff, "but, depend upon it, yesterday's
business will not turn out so ill. No bird flies so high that it never comes down
again."

"I know not," answered Fritz. "The bird I am thinking ofj has had a
long flight of it; but perhaps we are not speaking of the same bird, Mr.
Bailiff? They are calling me to breakfast!" and with this, Fritz shut down his
window.

''Short leave-taking," murmured the bailiff to himself, and shook his head
until his hair and his cheeks shook. " I shall have the devil to pay, to get this
cursed business of yesterday out of these people's heads." Having said this to
himself, he poured out some brandy, drank it off, and said again: "Courage!
time brings counsel ! This is Saturday. These simpletons will be going to be
shaved. I will away to the barber's, and give them each a glass of wine. The
fellows always believe me ten times before they would half believe the pastor
once." So said the bailiff to himself; and then added to his wife : "Fill my box
with tobacco : not with my own, but with that strong sort — it suits such fel-

536 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

lows. And if the barber's boy comes for wine, give him that brimstoned tkree
times over, and put into each can a glass of brandy."

He went out ; but whilst he was in the street, and not far from home, he rec-
ollected himself, turned back, and said to his wife, " There may be knaves drink-
ing with me. I must be upon my guard. Get me some yellow-colored water ;.
and when I send for the La Cote, bring it thyself." He then went out again.

But before he arrived at the barber's, and under the lime-trees near the school
he met Nickel Spitz and Jogli Rubel.

" Whither away, in thy Sunday clothes, Mr. Bailiff?" asked Nickel Spitz.

Bailiff. " I am going to get shaved."

Nickel. "It's odd thou hast time for it, on a Saturday morning."

Bailiff. " That's true. It is not so the year through."

Nick. '• No I It is not long since thou earnest always on a Sunday, between
morning prayers, to the barber."

Bailiff. " Yes, a time or two."

Nick. " A time or two ! The two last, I think. Since the pastor had thy dog
driven out of the church, thou hast never been within his premises."

Bailiff. " Thou art a fool, Nickel, to talk so. We must forgive and forget ; the
driving the dog away, has long been out of my head."

Nick. "I would not trust to that, if I were the pastor."

Bailiff. " Thou art a simpleton, Nickel ; why should he not ? But come into
the room, there will be some drinking ere long."

Nick. " Thou wouldst look sharp after the barber, if he had any drinking
going on in his house."

Bailiff. " I am not half so jealous as that comes to. They are for taking away
my license ; but Nickel, we are not come to that yet. At all events, we shall
have six weeks and three days, before that time arrives."

Nick. " So I suppose. But it is HO good thing for thee, that the young squire
does not follow his grandfather's creed."

Bailiff. " Truly, he does not believe quite as his grandfather did."

Nick. "I suspect they differ about every article of the twelve."

Bailiff. " It may be so. But the old man's belief was the best, to my fancy."

Nick. " No doubt ! The first article of his creed was : I believe in thee, my
bailiff."

Bailiff. "Thou art facetious, Nickel! but what was the next?"

Nick. " I don't know exactly. I think it was : I believe in no man but thee,
my bailiff, not a single word."

Bailiff. "Thou shouldst have been a pastor, Nickel: thou couldst not only
have explained the catechism, but put a new one in its place."

Nick. " They would not let me do that. If they did, I should make it so clear
and plain, that the children would understand it without the pastor, and then he
would naturally be of no use."

Bailiff. " We will keep to the old, Nickel. It is the same about the catechism
as about every thing else to my mind. We shall not better ourselves by changing."

Nick. " That is a maxim which is sometimes true, and sometimes not. It seems
to suit thee now with the new squire."

Bailiff. "It will suit others too, if we wait patiently, and for my own part, I
am not so much afraid of the new squire. Every man finds his master."

Nick. " Very true : but there was an end of the old times for thee, last
summer."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 53 T

Bailiff. " At all events, Nickel, I have had my share of them. Let others try-
now."

Nick. "True, thou hast had thy share! and a very good one it was ; but, how
could it miss ? The secretary, the attorney, and the late pastor's assistant, all
owed thee money."

Bailiff. " People said so, but it was not true."

Nick. " Thou mayst say so now ; but thou hadst an action brought against
two of them, because the money did not come back."

Bailiff. " Thou fool, thou knowest every thing."

Nick. " I know a great deal more than that. I know thy tricks with Rudi's
father, and how I caught thee by the dog-kennel, under the heap of straw, lying
on thy face, close to Rudi's window ; his attorney was with him. Till two o'clock
in the morning, didst thou listen to what they were saying in the room. I was
watchman that night, and had wine gratis at thy house, for a week after, for my
silence."

Bailiff. " Thou heretic : there is not a word of truth in what thou sayest. It
would be pretty work for thee, if thou wert made to prove it."

Nick. " I was not talking about proving it, but thou knowest whether it be true
or not."

Bailiff. " Thou hadst better take back thy words."

Nick. " The devil put it into thy head to listen under the straw, in the night.
Thou couldst hear every word, and then easily twist thy evidence with the
attorney."

Bailiff. " How thou talkest !"

Nick. " How I talk ? If the attorney had not wrested thy evidence before the-
court, Rudi would have had his meadow now, and Wast and Kaibacker needed
not have taken their fine oaths."

Bailiff. " Truly, thou understandest the business, as well as the schoolmaster
does Hebrew."

Nick. "Whether I understand it or not, I learned it from thee. More than
twenty times thou hast laughed with me, at thy obedient servant, Mr. attorney."

Bailiff. " Yes, so I have ; but he did not do what thou sayest. It is true, he
was a cunning devil. God forgive him. It will be ten years, next Michaelmas,
since he was laid in his grave."

Nick. " Since he was sent to hell, thou shouldst say."

Bailiff. " That is not right. We should not speak ill of the dead."

Nick. "Very true; or else I could tell how he cheated Roppi's children."

Bailiff. " He might have confessed himself to thee, on his death-bed, thon<
knowest it all so well."

Nick. "I know it, at any rate."

Bailiff. " The best part of it is, that I gamed the action : if thou hadst known,
that I had lost it, it would have troubled me."

Nick. "Nay, I know that thou didst gain it, but I also know how."

Bailiff. "Perhaps; perhaps not."

Nick. " God keep all poor folks from law."

Bailiff. " Thou art right there. Only gentle-folks and people well off in the
world, should go to law. That would certainly be a good thing; but so would
many other things, Nickel. Well, well, we must be content with things as they
are."

Nick. " Bailiff, that wise saying of thine puts me in mind of a fable I heard?

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

from a pilgrim. He came out of Alsace, and told it before a whole room full of
people. A hermit had described the world in a book of fables, and he could
repeat it almost from beginning to end. We asked him to tell us some of these
fables, and he related that which thou remindest me of."

Bailiff. " Well, what was it, prater ?"

Nick. " By good luck, I think I remember it. 'A sheep was complaining and
lamenting that the wolf, the dog, the fox, and the butcher, tormented her terri-
bly. A fox, that was standing near the fold, heard the complaint, and said to
the sheep : we must always be content with the wise regulations of the world.
If there were any change it would be for the worse.

That may be true, when the fold is shut, answered the sheep ; but if it were
open, I, for one, should not agree with you.

It is right enough that there should be wolves, foxes, and wild beasts : but
it is also right, that the fold should be carefully looked after, and that poor weak
animals should have watchful shepherds and dogs, to protect them from wild
beasts.'

' Heaven preserve us,' added the pilgrim ; ' there are everywhere plenty of wild
beasts, and but few good shepherds.'

1 Great God, thou knowest wherefore it is so, and we must submit silently.'
His comrades added : ' yes, we must submit silently ; and holy virgin, pray for us
now, and in the hour of our death.'

We were all affected when the pilgrim spoke so feelingly, and we could not
go on chattering our nonsense as usual."

Bailiff. " It's fine talking about such silly fancies of the sheep ; according to
which, wolves, foxes, and other wild beasts must die of hunger."

Nick. " It would be no great harm if they did."

Bailiff. " Art thou sure of that ?"

Nick. "Nay, I spoke foolishly; they need not die of hunger : they might
always find carrion and wild creatures, and these belong to them, and not tame
animals, which must be brought up, and kept with labor and cost."

Bailiff. "Thou wouldst not then have them altogether die of hunger. That is
a great deal for such a friend of tame animals to allow; but I am starved, come
into the room."

Nick. " I can not, I must go on."

Bailiff. " Good-bye then, neighbors ;" and he went away. Rubel and Nickel
looked at each other for a moment, and Rubel said, " Thou hast salted his meat
for him."

Nick. " I wish it had been peppered too, and so that it might have burnt his
tongue till to-morrow."

Rubel "A week ago, thou durst not thus have spoken to him."

Nick. "And a week ago he would not have answered as he did."

Rubel. " That is true. He is grown as tame as my dog, the first day it had its
muzzle on."

Nick. " When the cup is full it will run over. That has been true of many a
man, and it will be true of the bailiff."

Rubel. " Heaven keep us from officers 1 I would not be a bailiff, with his two
courts."

Nick. " But if anybody offered thee half of one, and the office of bailiff, what
wouldst thou do ?"

Rubel. "Thou fool!"

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 539

Nick. " Thou wise man ! what wouldst them do ? come, confess ; thou wouldst
quickly consent, wrap the cloak of two colors around thee, and be bailiff."
RubeL " Dost thou think so ?"
Nick. "Yes, I do think so."

Rubd. " We are losing time chattering here. Good-bye, Nickel."
Nick. " Good-bye, Rubel."

CHAPTER vn. — THE BAILIFF BEGINS SOME BAILIFF'S BUSINESS.

As soon as the bailiff entered the barber's room, he saluted him, and his wife,
•and the company, before he seated himself, or made any bustle. Formerly, he
used to make a great spitting and coughing first, and took no notice of anybody,
till he had seated himself.

The country people answered, smilingly, and put their hats on again, much
sooner than they usually did, when the bailiff spoke to them. He began the
conversation by saying, " Always good pay, Mr. Barber, and so much custom ;
I wonder how you manage to get through it, with one pair of hands."

The barber was a quiet man, and not in the habit of replying to such speeches ;
but the bailiff had been teasing him with these jests for several months past,
and every Sunday morning in sermon-time ; and as it happened, he took it into
his head to answer him for once, and said :

<; Mr. Bailiff, you need not wonder how people manage to work hard, with
one pair of hands, and get little ; but it is, indeed, a wonder how some people
manage to sit with their hands before them, doing nothing at all, and yet get a
great deal."

Bailiff. ''True enough, barber; but thou shouldst try. The thing is, to keep
the hands still, in the right way: then, money showers down like rain."

The barber made another attempt, and said: ''Nay, bailiff, the way is, to
wrap one's self up in a two-colored cloak, and say these three words : It is so,
on my oath, It is so. If the time be well chosen, one may then put two fingers'
-up, three down — abracadabra! and behold a bag full of gold."

This put the bailiff into a passion, and he answered, " Thou art a conjuror,
barber ! but there is no wonder in that. People of thy trade always understand
witchcraft and conjuring."

This was too sharp for the good barber, and he repented having meddled with
-the bailiff; so he held his peace, and let the others talk, and began quietly
lathering a man who was sitting before him. The bailiff continued, maliciously :
" The barber is quite a fine gentleman, he will not answer one again. He wears
•smart stockings, town-made shoes, and ruffles on a Sunday. He has hands as
smooth as a squire's, and his legs are like a town-clerk's."

The country people liked the barber, had heard this before, and did not laugh
at the bailiff's wit.

Only young Galli, who was being shaved, could not help smiling at the idea
of the town-clerk's legs; for he was just come from the office, where the jest
'had begun ; but When his face moved, the barber's razor cut his upper lip.

This vexed the people ; they shook their heads, and old Uli took his pipe out
of his mouth, and said :

" Bailiff, it is not right to disturb the barber in this way."

And when the others saw that old Uli was not afraid, and said this boldly,
they murmured still more loudly, and said: "Galli is bleeding, nobody can be
•shaved at this rate."

540 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

"I nin sorry for what has happened," said the bailiff, "but I will set all to
rights again."

"Boy! fetch three flasks of good wine, which heals wounds without needing
to be wanned."

The moment the bailiff spoke of wine, the first murmur subsided.

Some did not believe that be was in earnest ; but Lonk, who was sitting in a.
corner, solved the riddle, saying: "The bailiffs wine was tapped yesterday, in
the church-yard."

The bailiff, taking his tobacco-box out of his pocket, laid it on the table, and;
Christian, the ballad-singer, asked him for a pipe-full. He gave it him ; then
more followed his example, and the room was soon full of the smoke of tins-
strong tobacco, but the bailiff smoked a better kind himself.

Meantime the barber and the other neighbors kept quiet, and made light of it.

This disturbed Master Urias. He went up and down the room, with his,
finger on his nose, as he always did, when he could not get rid of his vexation.

"It is devilish cold in this room ; I can never smoke when it is so cold," said
he. So he went out of the room, gave the maid a kreuzer to make a larger fire,
and it was soon warm enough.

CHAPTER vin. — WHEN THE WHEELS ARE GREASED THE WAGON GOES.

Now came the brimstoned wine. " Glass«?s, glasses here, Mr. Barber," said
the bailiff. And the wife and the boy soon brought plenty.

All the neighbors drew near the wine flasks, and the bailiff poured out for them.

Now were old Uli. and all the rest, content again ; and young Galli's wound
was not worth mentioning. " If the simpleton had only sat still, the barber
would not have cut him."

By degrees they all grew talkative, and loud sounds of merriment arose.

All praised the bailiff; and the mason, Leonard, was at one table abused for
a lout, and at the other for a beggar.

One told how he got drunk every day, and now played the saint ; another
said, " He knew well why pretty Gertrude went, instead of the mason, to the
squire at the hall:" and another, "That he dreamed, last night, that the bailiff
would soon serve the mason according to his deserts."

As an unclean bird buries its beak in the ditch, and feeds upon rotten garbage,
so did Hummel satiate his wicked heart oil the conversation of the neighbors.
Yet it was with great caution and watchfulness that he mingled in the wild up-
roar of the chattering drunkards.

"Neighbor Richter," said he, giving him a glass, "you were yourself at the
last reckoning, and are a qualified man. You know that the mason owed me
thirty florins. It is now half a year since, and he has not paid me any part of it.
I have never once asked him for the money, nor given him a hard word, and yet
it is likely enough that I shall lose every farthing of it."

" That is clear enough," swore the farmers, " thou wilt never see another
farthing of thy money;" and they poured out more wine.

But the bailiff took out of his pocket book the mason's promissory note, laid
it on the table, and said, " There you may see whether it be true, or not."

The countrymen looked over the writing, as if they could read it, and said^
" He is a rogue, that mason."

And Christian, the ballad-singer, who, till now, had been quietly swallowing
down the wine, wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve, got up, raised his
and shouted out,

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 54 i

Long life to the bailiff, and away with all firebrands ;" so saying, he drank off
'the glass, held it to be filled, drank again, and sang :

" He who digs another's grave,

Into it, himself may slip ;
Who ne'er lilts a hand to save,

Should be careful not to trip.

"Be he lifted e'er so high,

And cunning as the deuce withal,
He who will still in ambush lie,
Is sure, at last, himself to fall—
Himself to fall.
Juhe, mason ! juhe !"

CHAPTER ix. — ON THE RIGHTS OF THE COUNARY.

"NOT so riotous, Christian," said the bailiff; "that is of no use. I should be
very sorry if any ill luck happened to the mason. I forgive him freely. He did
it from poverty. Still it is hard that the country must lose its rights."

The neighbors opened their ears when he spoke of the country's rights.

Some put down their glasses, when they heard of the country's rights, and
listened.

" I am an old man, neighbors, and it can not signify much to me. I have no
•children, and it is almost over with me. But you have sons, neighbors; to
you, your rights are of great consequence."

" Ay I our rights !" called out the men. " You are our bailiff. Do not let us
lose a hair of our rights."

Bailiff. "Yes, neighbors. The landlord's license is a parish concern, and a
valuable one. "We must defend ourselves."

Some few of the men shook their heads, and whispered to each other, "He
never looked after the parish before — he wants to draw us into the mud where
he is sticking,"

But the majority shouted louder and louder, stormed, and cursed, and swore
that to-morrow there must be a parish meeting.

The wiser amongst them were silent, and only said, quietly, to each other,
" We shall see what they do when the wine is out of their heads."

Meantime the bailiff kept prudently drinking of the colored water, and began
again to rouse up the people about their rights.

"You all know," said he, "how our forefather, Ruppli, two hundred years
ago, had to fight with the cruel ancestors of this .squire. This old Ruppli, (my
grandfather has told me of it a thousand times,) had a favorite saying, 'When
the squires welcome beggars at the hall, God help the country people.' They
do it only to make mischief amongst them, and then to be masters themselves.
Neighbors, we are thus always to be the fools in the game."

Countrymen. " Nothing is clearer. We are thus always to be the fools in the
game."

Bailiff. " When your lawyers can be of no more use, you are as ill off as
soldiers, who have their retreat cut off. The new squire is as sharp and cunning
as the devil. No man can see through him ; and certainly he gives no one a
good word for nothing. If you knew but half as much as 1 do, there would be
no need for me to say another word to you. But you are not quite blockheads ;
you will take heed, and be on your guard."

Abi, to whom the bailiff was speaking, and to whom he made a sign, answered,

542 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

"Do you think, bailiff, that we do not perceive his drift? He wants to lake thfr
landlord's license into his own hands."

Bailiff. " You see through it, do you?"

Countrymen. "Ay, by G ! but we will not allow it. Our children shall

have a free tavern, as we have had."

AU. " He may choose to make us pay a ducat for a measure of wine ; and we
should be false to our own children."

Baili/. " That is going too far, Abi. He can never make you pay a ducat for
a measure of wine."

Abi. "I don't know. The smith and the cartwright are raising their prices
shamefully; and even wood is dearer than it has been these fifty years. What
say you, bailiff? As the twig is bent, so grows the tree. How can you tell
how high a measure of wine may get, when nobody can sell it but the squire ?
It is devilish dear already, on account of the duty."

Bailiff. " So it is. There is always some new plague and difficulty, and that
makes every thing dearer."

"Yes, yes, if we will submit to itl" said the men, shouting and roaring, and.
threatening. Their conversation became, at last, the wild uproar of a set of
drunkards, which I can describe no further.

CHAPTER x. — THE BARBER'S DOG DRINKS UP WATER AT AN UNLUCKY MOMENT,

AND PLAYS THE BAILIFF A SAD TRICK.

MOST of them were, by this time, pretty well intoxicated, particularly Chris-
tian the ballad-singer, who sat next the bailiff; and, in one of his drunken
huzzas, knocked over the jug of water.

The bailiff, alarmed, wiped the colored water off the table as quickly as he
could, that nobody might detect the cheat. But the barber's dog, under the
table, was thirsty, and lapped the water from the ground ; and, unluckily, one
of the neighbors, who was looking sorrowfully after the good wine under the
table, observed that Hector licked it up.

"Wonder and marks, bailiff" said he, "how long have dogs drank wine?"

"You fool, long enough!" answered the bailiff, and made signs to him with
his hands and head, and pushed him, with his foot, under the table, to be silent.
He kicked the dog, at the same time, to drive him away. But Hector did not
understand him, for he belonged to the barber. He barked, snarled, and lapped
up the colored water a little further off. The bailiff turned pale at this ; for
many of the others now began to look under the table, and lay their heads to-
gether, and point to the dog. The barber's wife took up the fragments of the
broken pitcher, and smelt at them, and perceiving that it was only water, shook
her head, and said, aloud, " This is not right."

The men murmured all round; "There's something hidden under this;" and"
the barber told the bailiff, to his face, "Bailiff, your fine wine is nothing but
colored water."

"Is it not, indeed?" exclaimed the men.

"What the devil is the meaning of this, bailiff? Why do you drink water?"

The bailiff, confused, answered, " I am not very well ; I am obliged to spare-
myself."

But the men did not believe the answer; and right and left they murmured
more and more; "There is something wrong in this."

And now some began to complain that the wine had got into their heads,,
which such a small quantity should not have done.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 543

The two wisest amongst them got up, paid the barber, and said, " good-bye,
neighbors," and went to ward the door.

'•So soon, gentlemen 1 Why do you leave the company so soon?" said the
bailiff

u We have something else to do," answered the men, and went out.

The barber accompanied them out of the room, and said, "I wish the bailiff
had gone instead of you. He has had no good intention, either with the wine
or the water."

"So we think, or we would have staid," answered the men.

Barber. "And I can not endure this drunken rioting."

Men. There is no reason why thou shouldst ; and it may bring thee into dif-
ficulties. " If I were in thy place, I would put an end to it," said the elder of
the two.

"I dare not do that," replied the barber.

"Things are not as they were, and thou art master in thy own house," said
the men.

"I will follow your advice," said the barber, and went back into the room.

"What is the matter with these gentlemen, that they are gone off so sud-
denly ? " said the bailiff.

And the barber answered, "I am of their mind. Such rioting is unseemly
and does not suit my house."

Bailiff. "So, so! and is this your answer?"

Barber. "Yes, indeed, it is, Mr. Bailiff. I like a quiet house."

This dispute did not please the honorable company.

"We will be quieter," said one of them.

"We will behave well," said another.

"Come, come, let us all be friends," said a third.

"Bailiff, another flask! " said Christian.

" Ha, neighbors I I have a room of my own. We will leave the barber in
peace," said the bailiff.

"I shall be very glad of it," answered the barber.

"But the parish business is forgotten, and the landlord's rights, neighbors!"
said old Abi, who was thirsty yet.

"Follow me, all who are true men," said the bailiff, threateningly, — muttering
" donner and wetter," and looking fiercely round the room. He said good-bye to
nobody, and clapped the door after him so furiously, that the room shook.

" This is shameful ! " said the barber.

"Yes; it is shameful," said many of the men.

"It is not right," said young Meyer. "I, for one, will not enter the bailiff's
house."

"Nor I," added Laupi.

"The devil, nor I!" said Reynold. "I remember yesterday morning. I
stood next to him and Arner, and saw how it was."

The neighbors looked at each other, to see what they should do ; but most
of them sat down again, and staid where they were.

Only Abi and Christian, and a couple of blockheads more, took up the bailiff's
empty cans, and went after him.

The bailiff was looking out of his window, down the street, which led to the
oarber's house, 'and as nobody followed at first, he was vexed at himself.

" What a lam© ox I am ! It is almost noon, and I have done nothing yet.

.544 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

The wine is drunk and now they laugh at me. I have blabbed to them like a
child, and let myself down, as if I had been one of them. Now, if I had really
meant well by these fellows ; if I had really desired to serve the parish ; or, if
I had only kept up the appearance of it a little better, I should have succeeded.
Such a parish as this will dance after any cunning piper, who can only persuade
them he means well by them. But times have been only too good for me. In
the old squire's time, I led the parish about like a he-goat. Ever since I nave
been bailiff, it has been my pastime and delight to abuse them, tease them, and
master them ; and even now I mean to do so more than ever. But then, I must
.and will keep them at a distance. Shaking hands and lowering one's self; ask-
ing advice, and acting like everybody's brother-in-law, does not do, where peo
pie are so well known. Such a man as I am, must quietly act for himself; only
employ such people as he knows, and let the parish alone. A herdsman doea
.not ask advice of his oxen, and yet I have been fool enough to do so to-day."

Now came the men with the empty cans.

"Are you alone? Would not the dogs come with you ?"

" No, not a man," answered Abi.

Bailiff. " That is going a good way."
• Christian. " I think so too."

Bailiff. "I should like to know what they are talking and consulting to-
gether. Christian, go and seek the other cans."

Christian. " There are none left there."

Bailiff. " Blockhead ! It's all one for that. If thou findest none, get thyself
shaved or bled, and wait to listen to what they say. If thou bringest me any
news, I will drink with thee till morning. And thou, Loli, go to the mason's
old comrade, Joseph, but take care that no one observes thee, tell him to come
to me at noon."

"Give me another glass first, I am thirsty," said Loli, "and then I'll run like
.a greyhound, and be back again in a twinkling."

"Very well," said the bailiff, and gave him one.

These two went off, and the bailiffs wife set some wine before the others.

CHAPTER XL — WELL-LAID PLOTS OF A ROGUE.

THE bailiff himself went, in some perplexity, into the next room, and considered
how he should manage matters when Joseph came.

"He is faithless, that I may depend upon, and cunning as the devil. He has
•drunk away several crowns of his master's money ; but my demand is a great
one. He will be afraid, and not trust me. It is almost noon. I will offer him
as much as ten crowns. If he will do as I bid him, within three weeks all the
plaster will fall off the building. I shall not grudge ten crowns," said the bailiff;
and as he was speaking thus to himself, Loli arrived, with Joseph behind him.
They did not come together, that they might excite less suspicion.

" Good day, Joseph ! I suppose thy master does not know that thou art here."

Joseph answered. " 1! '•-. still at the hall, but he will come back at noon. If
I am at work again by ono o'clock, he will never miss me."

"Very well. I have something to say to thee, Joseph. "We must be alone,"
said the bailiff; and, taking him into the inner room, he shut the door and bolted
it. There were bacon, vegetables, wine, and bread, upon the table. The bailiff
placed two chairs by the table, and said to Joseph, "Thou wilt miss thy dinner;
sit down and eat it with me "

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 545

"With all my heart," answered Joseph — sat down, and said, "Mr. Bailiflj
what is it you want? I am at your service."

The bailiff answered, "To thy good health, Joseph!" drank, and then con-
tinued the conversation. " Try these vegetables : they are good. Why dost
thou not help thyself? Thou hast hard times enough with thy master."

Joseph. "True; but it will be better when he has work at the hall."

Bailiff. "Thou art a fool, Joseph! Thou mayest easily imagine how long
that will last. I wish him joy of it; but he is not the man for such a thing.
He has never had the management of any thing of the sort ; but he will trust
all to thee, Joseph."

Joseph. "May be so."

Bailiff. " I foresaw that, and therefore wished to speak to thee. Thou canst
do me a great favor."

Joseph. "I am all attention, Mr. Bailiff. Here's luck to my master," (drink-
ing.)

"It shall not be for nothing, mason," said the bailiff, and helped him again to
the vegetables. " I should be very glad if the foundation of the church, which
is to be of hewn stone, were got from the quarry at Schwendi."

Joseph. "Potz blitz, Mr. Bailiff! It can never be! The stone is bad, and
good for nothing, as a foundation — "

Bailiff. "0 the stone is not so bad: I have often seen it used. It is good, I
say, Joseph ; and it would be a great pleasure to me if this quarry were to be
opened again."

Joseph. " It can not be done, Mr. Bailiff."

Bailiff. "I will be grateful for the service, Joseph."

Joseph. " The wall will be down in six years if it be built of this stone."

Bailiff. " I can't hear that. That is a foolish story."

Joseph. " By G , it is true ! There are two dung-heaps next the wall, and

the stables drain past it. The stone would rot away like a fir plank."

Bailiff. " After all, what is it to thee, whether the wall be good or not, in ten
years? Dost thou fear that the squire can not make a new one? Do what I
say, and thou mayst expect a good handsome present."

Joseph. " That is all very well. But what if the squire should find out that
the stone is not good."

Bailiff. " How should he find it out ? There is no fear of that."

Joseph. " He knows more about things than any body would believe. But
you know him better than I."

Bailiff. "He will understand nothing about this."

Joseph. " I almost think so myself; for the stone looks very well on the out-
side, and is very good for some purposes."

Bailiff. " Give me thy hand upon it, that thy master shall use the stone out
of this quarry. If thou wilt, thou shalt have five crowns for thyself."

Joseph. "It's a good sum, if I had only hold of it."

Bailiff. " I am in earnest, by G ! I will give thee five crowns, if thou wilt

do it!"

Joseph. "Well, there you have my word, Mr. Bailiff; and he stretched out
his hand and pledged it him. It shall be done, Mr. Bailiff. Why should I
trouble myself about the squire?"

Bailiff. " One word more, Joseph. I have a bag full of stuff, from an apothe-
cary's shop, which a gentleman gave me. They say, that when it is mixed with

35

546 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

the lime, the mortar sticks to a wall like iron. But these gentlemen are such/
queer folks, that one can not trust them about any thing. I would rather not
try it first on a building of my own."

Joseph. •' I can manage that for you. I will try it on a corner of a neighbor's
house."

Bailiff'. "It is of no use to try it in such a small way. Whether it succeeds
or fails, one is at no certainty. There is no knowing how it might do on a larger
scale. T should like it to be tried on the church, Joseph! can not it be done?"

Joseph. "Is it necessary to put much of it into the lime?"

Bailiff. "I think about two pounds to a barrel."

Joseph. " Then it will be easy enough."

Bailiff. " Wilt thou do it for me ?"

Joseph. "Yes, that I will."

Bailiff. "And if it should fail, say nothing about it?"

Joseph. " It can not fail, so as to signify ; and, of course, one should say
nothing about it!"

Bailiff. " Thou wilt find the stuff at my house, whenever thou art ready for
it ; and a glass of wine with it."

Joseph. " I will not fail, Mr. Bailiff. But I must go now. It has struck
one. Here's my thanks to you," said he, taking up his glass.

Bailiff. " Thou hast nothing to thank me for yet. Keep thy word, and thou
shalt have the five crowns."

"I will do my part, Mr. Bailiff," said Joseph, getting up and putting by his
chair. " My best thanks to you" — and he drank off his parting glass.

Bailiff. " Well, if thou must go, good-bye, Joseph ; and remember our agree-
ment"

Joseph went away, and, as he was going, said to himself, " This is a strange
fancy of his about the stone ; and still stranger about the stuff in the lime. It's
a fine way to try a thing, to begin upon a church. But, at all events, I'll get
hold of the money ; and I can do as I like afterward."

"This has turned out very well," said the bailiff to himself. " Better than I
expected, and for half the money. I should have promised him ten crowns, as
easily as five, if he had understood how to make his bargain. I am well pleased
that the thing is set a going. No, no ! one should never despair. 0 that tho
wall were but already above the ground ! Well, patience ! on Monday they will
begin to prepare the stone. Poor mason I Thy wife has cooked up a pretty
mess for thee."

CHAPTER xn. — DOMESTIC -HAPPINESS.

THE mason Leonard, who had gone up to the hall early in the morning, was
now come back to his wife.

She had been very busy in getting her Saturday's work done, against her
husband's return. She had combed the children, made them tidy, mended their
clothes, cleaned up the little room, and, whilst she was at work, had taught
them a song. "You must sing it for your dear father," said she; and the chil-
dren gladly learned any thing which would please their father, when he came
home. Whilst they were working, and without any trouble or loss of time,
without book, they sang it after her till they knew it.

When their father came home, the mother welcomed him ; and then she and
the children sang:

LEONARD AM) GERTRUDE

547

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548

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

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Heavenly guest ! who hast the pow'r—

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O'er the suff'rer's saddest hour,

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Weary now of care and riot,

Ceaseless changes, without rest;
Heavenly quiet !
' Come and reign within my breast.

The tears came into Leonard's eyes, as the children and their mother sang so
happily together, to welcome him. "God bless you, my darlings! God bless
thee, my love!" said he to them, with great emotion.

"My dear husband," answered Gertrude, "it is heaven upon earth to seek for
peace, do what is right, and wish for little."

Leon. "If I have ever enjoyed an hour of that happiness which peace of
mind brings, I owe it to thee. Till my last moment I will thank thee for saving
me ; and these children will be grateful to thee for it, after thy death. 0, my
dear children ! always do what is right, and follow your mother, and you will
prosper."

G&r. " How cheery thou art to-day, Leonard!"

Leon. " I have gone on well with Arner."

Ger. " Ah ! God be thanked for it, my dear husband."

Leon. " He is a man who has not his equal. How childish it was in me to
be afraid of going to him."

Ger. " And how wise we have been at last, love. But come, tell me how it
all was." And as she sat down by him, and took out the stocking she was knit-
ting, he said to her: —

CHAPTER xin. — A PROOF THAT GERTRUDE WAS DEAR TO HER HUSBAND.

Leonard. " IF thou sittest down in such state, as thou dost to thy Bible on a
Sunday evening, I must prepare to tell thee a great deal."

Gertrude. " Every thing! thou must tell me every thing, love !"

Leon. " Yes, if thou hadst time for it ; but, Gertrude, dear, it is Saturday,
when thou art always so busy."

Ger. (Smiling.) "Look about thee!"

Leon. "Ah! is every thing done already?"

Lise. " She has been very busy, father ; and Enne and I have helped her to
slean up. Is not that right ?"

"It is, indeed, right," answered the father

LEONARD AND GERTRUDF. 549

" Bui now begin to tell me." said Gertrude.

Leon. " Aruer asked me my father's name, and the street where I lived, and
the number of my house."

Ger. " 0, thou art not telling it right, Leonard; I know he did not begin so."

Leon. "And why not, darling? What w,ouldst thou have?"

Ger. " First, thou wouldst make thy bow to him, and he would take notice
of thee. How did he do that ?"

Leon. " Thou little conjuror ; thou art right. I did not begin at the begin-
ning."

Ger. "I told thee so, Leonard."

Leon. "Well, then, as soon as he saw me, he asked whether I was still afraid
of him. I made a bow, as well as I could, and said ' Forgive me, gracious sir.'
He smiled, and ordered a jug of wine to be set before me."

Ger. " Come now, this is quite a different beginning. Well, wert thou ready
enough to drink the wine? no doubt!"

Leon. " No, wife, I was as shamefaced as a young bride, and would not
touch it. But he did not let it pass so. ' I know you can tell what good wine
is,' said he, 'help yourself.' I poured out a little, drank his health, and tasted
it — but he looked at me so steadily, that the glass shook in my hand."

Ger. "What it is to have a tender conscience, Leonard! It had got into thy
fingers. But thou wouldst recover thyself, I suppose."

Leon. "Yes, very soon. He was very kind, and said, 'It is very natural
that a man who works hard should like a glass of wine. It does him good too.
But it is a misfortune when, instead of taking one glass to refresh himself, he lets
wine make a fool of him, and thinks no more of his wife and children, nor of his
old age. This is a great misfortune, Leonard.'

Wife ! I felt it strike through my heart as he said this ; but I took courage,
and answered, ' That by unlucky circumstances I had got so entangled, that I
did not know how in the world to help myself; and that I had not, in all that
time, drunk one glass with a merry heart.' "

Ger. " And didst thou really get through all that?"

Leon. " If he had not been so very kind, I could not have managed it."

Ger. "And what did he say next ?"

Leon. " ' That it was a misfortune that poor folks, when they were in trouble,
generally got hold of people they should avoid as the plague.' I could not help
sighing ; and I think he observed it, for he went on, very kindly : ' If one could
only teach good people this, before they learn it by sad experience ! — a poor
man is half saved, if he can only keep out of the claws of these blood-suckers.'
Soon afterward he went on again : ' It goes to my heart, when I think how often
the poor will go on suffering the greatest misery, and have not the sense and
courage to tell their situation to those who would gladly help them, if they only
knew how things were. It is really unpardonable to think how you have let
yourself be ensnared, day after day, by the bailiff, and brought your wife and
children into such trouble and danger, without once coming to me, to ask for
help and counsel. Only consider, mason, what would have been the end of all
this, if your wife had had no more sense and courage than you.' "

Ger. "And did he say all this before he asked after the number of thy
house ?"

Leon. "Thou hearest how it was."

Ger. "Thou didst not mean to tell me all this in a hurry, didst thou?"

050 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Leon. " Why, indeed, I think it would have been more prudent not. Thou
wilt grow too proud for me ; because thou hast had so much courage."

Ger. "Thinkest thou so, my good master? Yes, indeed, I will plume my
self upon this as long as I live ; and as long as it does us any good. But what
said A rner besides?"

Leon. "He. began to examine me about the building. It was well I had not
forgotten every thing. I had to reckon it all up by measurement, and set down
every item for carrying lime, and sand, and stone."

Ger. " Didst thou make no mistake at all in the reckoning?"

Leon. "No; not this time, love."

Ger. " God be thanked for it."

Leon. " Yes, indeed, God be thanked."

Gtr. "Is every thing ready now?"

Leon. "Yes; all will very soon be ready. Guess now much he has given
me in hand, said he, (shaking the money in a bag.) It is long since I heard the
sound of so much silver.'' Gertrude sighed.

Leon. "Do not sigh now, my dear wile, we will be prudent and saving; and
we shall certainly never come into the same distress again."

Ger. "God in heaven has helped us."

Leon. "Yes; and many nmre in the village besides us. Only think; Arner
has chosen out ten fathers of families, who were poor and in want, as day-
laborers at this building ; and he gives each of them twenty-five kreutzers a
day. Thou shouldst have seen, Gertrude, how carefully he chose them all out."

Ger. " 0, tell me how it all was ?"

Leon. "Yes; if I could remember I would."

Ger. " Try what thou canst do, Leonard."

Leon. "Well then: he inquired after all the fathers of families who were
poor ; how many children they had ; how old they were ; and what property or
help they had. Then he asked which were the worst off, and had the most
young children ; and said to me, twice over, ' If you know of any body else,
who is in trouble, as you were, tell me.' I thought of Hubel Rudi, and he has
now Work for a year certain."

Ger. " Thou didst very right not to let him suffer for having taken thy
potatoes."

Leon. " I can never bear malice against any poor man, Gertrude ; and they
are terribly ill off. I met Rudi, near the potato hole two days ago, and pre-
tended not to see him. It went to my heart, he looked such a picture of want
and misery; and, thank God, we have always yet had something to eat."

Ger. " Thou art quite right, my dear husband ! but still it can not be a help
to any body to steal; and the poor who do so, are only doubly wretched."

Leon. " True ; but when people are very hungry, and see food before them,
and know how much of it must go to waste in the hole, and that even the cattle
have enough to eat ; — 0 Gertrude ! it is hard work to let it lie there and not
touch it."

Ger. "It is very hard! but the poor man must learn to do it, or he will be
wretched indeed."

Leon. "Oh, who could punish him for it? who could ask it of him again?"

Ger. "God! — He who requires this from the poor man, gives him strength
to do it, and leads him on, through trouble, and want, and the many sufferings
of his situation, to that self-denial which is required from him. Believe me,

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 551

Leonard, God helps the poor man in secret, and gives him strength and under-
standing to bear, and to suffer, and to endure, what appears almost incredible.
And, when it is once gone through, with an approving conscience, Leonard, then
it brings happiness, indeed ; greater than any one can know, who has had no
occasion to practice self-denial."

Leon. "I know it, Gertrude. I know it by what thou hast done. I am not
blind. I have often seen how, in the greatest need, thou couldst still trust in
God and be content. But few are like thee in trouble, and there are many who,
like me, are very weak creatures, when want and distress are heavy upon them ;
and therefore I always think, that more should be done, to provide all the poor
with work and food. I think too, that they would then all be better than they
now are, in the distraction of their poverty, and of their many troubles."

Ger. " 0 my love 1 that is not the state of the case. If nothing were want-
ing but work and gain, to make the poor happy, they would be easily helped.
But it is not so. Both rich and poor must have their hearts well regulated
before they can be happy. And more arrive at this end, by means of trouble
and care, than through rest and joy. If it were not so, God would willingly let
us all have joys in abundance. But since men can only know how to bear
x "osperity, and rest, and joy, when their hearts have been trained to much self-
denial, and are become steadfast, firm, patient, and wise, it is clearly necessary
that there should be much sorrow and distress in the world ; for without it, few
men can bring their hearts into due regulation, and to inward peace ; and, if
these be wanting, a man may have work or no work, he may have abundance or
not, it is all one. The rich old Meyer has all he wants, and spends every day in
the tavern : but for all that, he is no happier than a poor man who has nothing,
works hard all day, and can only now and then have a glass of wine in a corner."
Leonard sighed. Gertrude was silent for a short time. Then she continued :
" Hast thou seen whether the men are at work ? I should tell thee, that Joseph
has again slipped away to the tavern."

Leon. " That looks ill ! I am sure the bailiff must have sent for him. He
goes on very strangely. Before I came home, I went to them at their work,
when he was just come back from the tavern ; and what he said made me un-
easy. It is not his own thought then."

Ger. " "What was it ?"

Leon. " He said the stone out of the quarry at Schwendi was excellent for
the church wall ; and when I told him the great flint stones, which lay near in
heaps, were much better, he said, ' I should always be a fool, and not know my
own business. The wall would be much better and handsomer of Schwendi
stone.' I thought, at the time, he said it with a good intention. But he began
so suddenly about the stone, that it seemed very strange ; and if he has been
with the bailiff, — there is certainly something more in it The Schwendi stone
is soft and sandy, and not fit for such work. If it should be a snare laid for
me!"—

Ger. " Joseph is not a man to depend upon, be careful about him."

Leon. "They will not take me in, this time. The squire will have no sand-
stone in the wall."

Ger. "Why not?"

Leon. " He says that sandstone where there are dung heaps and stable
drainage will decay, and be eaten up with saltpetre."

Ger. " Is that true ?"

552 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Leon. "Yes. When I was from home once, I worked at a building,
where they were obliged to take away a very good foundation of this kind of
stone."

Ger. "To think of his understanding it so well!"

Leon. "I was surprised myself; but he understands a great many things.
He asked me where the best sand was. I said, near the lower mill. ' That is
very far to fetch it, and up the hill too,' answered he: 'We must be careful of
men and cattle. Do you not know of any nearer?' I said, there certainly was
very good sand in a meadow near the church ; but it was private property, and
we should have to pay for the hole ; and could go no way but through the
meadow, where we must make a road. ' There is no harm in that,' said he. ' It
is better than fetching sand from the mill.' I must tell thee one thing more :
As he was speaking of the sand, a servant came from the squire of Oberhofen,
and I thought then, that I ought to say I would not detain him, but come another
time. He laughed, and said : ' No, mason, I like to finish what I am about ; and
when I have done, I see what any body else wants from me. But it is like you,
to be taking leave. It is a part of your old ways, which you must give up — to-
be so ready at every opportunity to leave your business and work.'

"I looked like a fool, wife; and heartily wished I had kept my tongue quiet,,
and npt said a word about coming another time.' "

"It was partly thy own fault, indeed 1" said Gertrude; and at that moment
somebody called out at the door: " Holla I is nobody at home?"

CHAPTER xiv. — MEAX SELFISHNESS.

THE mason opened the door, and Margaret, the sexton's daughter-in-law, and
the bailiff's niece, came into the room. As soon as she had very slightly saluted
the mason and his wife, she said to him : " You will not be for mending our old
oven, now, I suppose, Leonard!"

Leonard. "Why not, neighbor? Does it want any thing done to it?"

Margaret. " Not just now. I only ask in time, that I may know what to
trust to."

Leon. "You are very careful Margaret; but there was no great need to bfr
afraid."

Marg. "Ay! but times change, and people with them."

Leon. " Very true. But one may always find plenty of people to mend an
oven."

Marg. " That is some comfort, at all events."

Gertrude, who had been silent all this time, took up the cleaver to cut some
hard rye-bread for supper.

"That is but black bread," said Margaret; "but you will soon have better, as
your husband is become builder to the squire."

" You talk foolishly, Margaret. I shall be thankful if I have enough of bread
like this, all my life;" said Gertrude.

Marg. "But white bread is better; and you will find it so. You will now
be a bailiff's wife, and your husband, Mr. Bailiff; but it will be a bad thing for
us."

Leon. "What do you mean by your sneers? I like people to speak out; if
they have any thing on their minds, and dare say it."

Marg. " Ay, mason ! and I dare say it, if it comes to that. My husband is
the sexton's son, and since the church was first built, it was never heard of be-

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 553

fore, but that his people had the preference, when there was any thing to be
done at it!"

Leon. "Well! what more?"

Marg. "Why, now, at this very moment, the bailiff has a list hi his house,
m which more than a dozen blockheads, out of the village, are marked out to
work at the building of the church, and there is not a word said of the sexton's
people."

Leon. " But, neighbor ! what have I to do with it ? Did I write out the list ?"

Mury. "No, you did not write it out, but I suppose you dictated it."

Leon. "It would be a fine thing for me, indeed, to dictate his own list to the
squire."

Marg. " 0 ! we all know that you go every day to the hall ; and you have
certainly been there again to-day; and if you had only told him how it was be-
fore, things would have gone on in the old way.

Leon. "You are mistaken, Margaret, if you think so. Arner is not the man
to let things go on in the old way, if he can mend them by a new one."

Marg. "We see how it is!"

Leon. " And he means to help the poor and needy, by giving them work."

Marg. "Yes! he means to help all the blockheads and beggarly rabble."

Leon. " All poor folks are not rabble, Margaret ; and it is not right to talk
so. No one knows what may happen to himself before he dies."

Marg. "No; and therefore everybody should look after his own bread; and |
it is no wonder we are troubled to be so forgotten."

Leon. "Ah, Margaret ! it is a very different thing. You have good property,
and live with your father, who has the best situation in the village ; and you
have no need to work for your bread like us poor folks."

Marg. "You may say what you will: every one is vexed when he thinks a
thing belongs to him, and another dog comes and snatches it out of his mouth."

Leon. " Don't talk of dogs, Margaret, when you are speaking of men, or you
may find one that will bite you. But if you think the situation belongs to you,
you are young and strong, and a rare talker; you can manage your own affair,
and take it to the place where you may be helped to your right."

Marg. "Many thanks, Mr. Mason, for your fine piece of advice."

Leon. " I can give you none better."

Marg. " One may find an opportunity to remember the service. Farewell,
Leonard."

Leon. " Farewell, Margaret. It is all I can do for you."

Margaret went away, and Leonard to his men."

CHAPTER xv. — THE WISE GOOSE LAYS AN EGG; OR, A BLUNDER WHICH COSTS

A GLASS OF WINE.

LEONARD had no sooner left the hall, than Arner sent the list of day-laborers
which he had written out, by Flink, his huntsman, to the bailiff, with orders to
give them all notice.

The huntsman brought the list to the bailiff before nbon ; but formerly, all
the writings which came from the hall, were directed " To the honorable and
discreet, my trusty and well-beloved Bailiff Hummel in Bonnal," and on this,
there was only, " To the Bailiff Hummel in Bonnal."

"What is that damned Spritzer, the secretary, about, that he does not give
me my right title ?" said the bailiff to Flink, as he took the letter.

554 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

But the huntsman answered: "Take care, bailiff, what you say. The squire
directed the letter himself."

Bailiff. " That's not true. I know the writing of that powdered beggar the
secretary 1"

Flink shook his head, and said: "You are a bold man. I saw the
squire write it, with my own eyes, and I stood by him in the room whilst he
did it."

Bailiff. " Then I have made a damned blunder, Flink ! The words escaped
me. Forget them, and come into the house, and drink a glass of wine with me."

" Take care the next time, bailiff! I don't like to make mischief, and will
pass it over for once," said Flink, going with the bailiff into the house. He set
his short gun in a corner, drank one glass, and then went away.

The bailiff opened the paper, read it, and said: "These are all mere block-
heads and beggars, from first to last. Donner! what a business this is! Xot
one of my own people, except Michael. I am not even to recommend a day-
laborer to him ! And here I am to give them ail notice to-day. It will be hard
work for me — but I will do it. It is not evening all day long. Truly, I will
tell them of it, and advise them all to go on Monday to the hall, to return thanks
to the squire. He does not know one of these fellows. It must be the ninnm
who has recommended them to him. When they arrive at the hall, on Monday,
all in tatters, some without shoes, others without hats, and stand before the
squire, I shall wonder if he does not say something I can turn to use." Thus
he laid his plans, dressed himself, and took up the list to see how they lay near
each other, that he might not go roundabout.

Hubel Rudi was not the next to him; but ever since he had gained the
meadow from his father by a lawsuit, he kept, as much as he could, away from
his house, on account of certain uneasy thoughts which occurred to him, when
•he saw these poor people. " I will go first to these folks," said he, and went up
to their window.

CHAPTER xvi. — THE DEATH-BED.

HUBEL RUDI was sitting with his four children. It was only three months
sinoe his wife's death, and now his mother lay dying upon a bed of straw, and
said to Rudi: "I wish thou wouldst collect some leaves this afternoon, to put
•into my coverlid ; I am very cold."

Rudi. " Oh, mother! as soon as ever the fire in the oven is put out, I will go."

Mother. "Hast thou any wood left, Rudi? I think not. for thou canst not
leave me and the children, to go into the forest — alas, Rudi, I am a burthen to
thee!"

Rudi. " My dear mother, do not say that thou art a burthen to me ! Oh, if
I could only give thee what thou hast need of! Thou art hungry and thirsty,
and makest no complaint. It goes to my heart, mother!"

Mother. "Do not make thyself unhappy, Rudi. Thanks be to God, my pain
is not severe — he will soon relieve it, and my blessing will repay thee what thou
hast done for me."

Rudi. " 0 mother, my poverty was never such a trouble to me as wow, when
I can give thee nothing, and do nothing for thee. Alas! thou sufferest from
sickness and misery, and sharest my wants."

Mother. "When we draw near our end, we want little on earth, and what \\ v
do want, our heavenly Father supplies. I thank him, Rudi ; for he srrengtheus
me in my approaching hour."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 555

R-udi. (Weeping.) "Dost them think then, mother, that thou wilt not
recover ? "

Mother. "Never, Rudi! it is most certain."

Rudi. " Gracious heaven I "

Mother. " Take comfort, Rudi ! I go into a better life."

Rudi. (Sobbing.) Alas, alas!"

Mother. "Do not grieve, Rudi! Thou hast been the joy of my youth, and
the comfort of my old age. And now I thank God that thy hand will soon close
my eyes ! Then shall I go to God, and I will pray for thee, and all will be well
with thee for ever. Think of me, Rudi. All the sufferings and all the troubles
of this life, if they are well borne, end in good, All I have undergone comforts
me, and is as great a blessing to me, as any of the pleasures and joys of life.
I thank God for the gladsome days of my childhood ; but when the fruit of life
ripens for harvest, and when the tree drops its leaves before its winter sleep, —
then are the sorrows of life hallowed, and its joys but as a dream. Think of
me, Rudi ! — all thy sufferings will end in good."

Rudi. " Oh, mother 1 dear mother ! "

Mother. " Yet, one thing more, Rudi."

Rudi. "What, mother?"

Mother. " Ever since yesterday it has lain like a stone on my heart. I must
tell thee of it, Rudi."

Rudi. " What is it, dear mother ? "

Mother. " Yesterday I saw our little Rudeli creep behind my bed, and eat
roasted potatoes out of his bag. He gave some to his sisters, and they also ate
these potatoes, which must have been stolen. Rudi, they could not be ours ! —
or the boy would have thrown them upon the table, and called his sisters loud-
ly ; and he would have brought me some of them, as he had done a thousand
times before. Oh, how it used to gladden my heart, when he flew towards me
with something in his hand, and said, so fondly to me : " Eat, eat, grandmother? "
Rudi, if this darling child should become a thief 1 0, this thought has been a
sad weight upon me since yesterday. Where is he ? bring him to me — I will
speak to him."

Rudi ran quickly, sought the boy and brought him to his mother's bed-side.

The mother, with great difficulty, raised herself up, for the last time, turned
toward the boy, took both his hands in hers, and bent forward her weak, dying
head.

The little fellow wept aloud. "Grandmother! what is it you wish? you are
.not dying yet ! 0, do not die yet, grandmother."

She answered in broken words: "Yes, Rudeli, I must certainly die very
soon."

" 0 my God! do not die, grandmother," said the boy.

'The sick woman lost her breath, and was obliged to lie down again.

The boy and his father burst into tears — but she soon recovered herself, and
said :

" I am better again, now that I lie down."

And Rudeli said : " And you will not then die now, grandmother ? "

Mother. "Say not so, my darling! I die willingly; and shall then go to a
kind father ! If thou couldst know, Rudeli, how happy I am, that I shall soon
go to Him, thou wouldst not be so sorrowful."

Rudeli. "I will die with you, grandmother, if you must die! "

556 LEONARD 4.ND GERTRUDE.

Mother. "No, Rudeli, them must not die with me. If it be the will of (Jod,.
thou must live a long time yet, and grow up to be a good man ; and when thy
lather is old and weak, thou must be his help and comfort. Tell me, Rudeli,
wilt thou follow after him, and be a good man, and do what is right ? Promise
me thou wilt, my love I"

Ruddi. "Yes, grandmother, I will do what is right, ancllbllow after him."

Mother. " Rudeli, our Father in heaven, to whom I am going, sees and hears
all that we do, and what we promise. Tell me, Rudeli, dost thou know this,
and dost thou believe it ?"

Rudeli. "Yes, grandmother I I know it, and I believe it."

Mother. " But why didst thou then eat stolen potatoes, yesterday, behind my
bed?"

Rudeli. " Forgive me this once, grandmother ; I will never do so again. For-
give me 1 I will certainly never do so again, grandmother."

Mother. " Didst thou steal them ?"

Rudeli. (Sobbing.) "Yes, grandmother, I did!"

Mother. " From whom didst thou steal them ?"

Rudeli. "From the ma — ma — son."

MotJier. " Thou must go to him Rudeli, and beg him to forgive thee."

Rudeli. " 0, grandmother, for God's sake I I dare not."

Mother. " Thou must Rudeli 1 that thou mayst not do so another time. Thou
must go, without another word 1 and for heaven's sake, my dear child, if thou
art ever so hungry, never take any thing again. God will not forsake any of
us. He provides for all. 0, Rudeli, if thou art ever so hungry, if thou hast no
food, and knowest of none, yet trust in God, and do not steal any more."

Rudeli. " Grandmother, I will never steal again. If I am hungry, I will
never steal again."

Mother. " Then may the God, in whom I trust, bless thee, and keep thee, my
darling 1" She pressed him to her heart, wept, and said : " Thou must now go to
the mason, and beg his pardon ; and, Rudi, do thou also go with him, and tell
the mason, that I too beg his pardon ; and that I am very sorry I can not give
him back the potatoes. Tell him I will pray for the blessing of God upon what
he has left, I am so grieved ! They have so much need of all they have — and
if his wife did not work so hard, day and night, they could not possibly maintain
their own large family. Rudi, thou wilt willingly work a couple of days for
him, to make it up."

Rudi. "I will, indeed, dear mother, with all my heart."

As he spoke, the bailiff tapped at the window."

CHAPTER xvn. — THE SICK WOMAN'S BEHAVIOR.

AND the sick woman knew him by his cough, and said: " 0 Rudi! here is the
bailiff! — I am afraid the bread and butter thou art preparing for me are not paid
for."

Rudi. " For heaven's sake, do not distress thyself, mother. It is of no conse-
quence. I will work for him ; and, at harvest time, reap for him, as much as he
likes,"

" Alas! he will not wait," said the mother; and Rudi went out of the room
to the bailiff.

The sick woman sighed to herself, and said: "Since this affair of ours, God
forgive him, the poor blinded creature. T never see him without a pang. And to-

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 557

•think that, at my last hour, he must come and talk under my window. It is the
will of God that I should forgive him, entirely and immediately, and overcome
my last resentment, and pray for his soul — and I will do so."

"0 God, thou hast overruled the whole affair. Forgive him, Father in
heaven, forgive him." She heard the bailiff talking loudly, and started. " Alas !
le is angry! 0 my poor Rudi! it is owing to me that thou art in his power!"
Again she heard his voice, and fainted away.

Rudeli sprang out of the room to his father, and called him : " Father, come,
come ! I think my grandmother is dead."

And Rudi exclaimed: "Gracious heaven! Bailiff, I must go into the room."

"Much need of that," said the bailiff. "It will be a great loss, truly, if the
old witch should be gone at last."

Rudi heard not what he said, but rushed into the room.

The sick woman soon recovered herself, and as she opened her eyes, she said :
'•Is he angry, Rudi? I am sure he will not wait."

Rudi. "No, indeed, mother! It is some very good news. But art thou quite
•recovered ?"

"Yes!" said the mother, and looked at him very earnestly and mournfully, —
" What good news can this man bring? what dost thou say ? Dost thou wish
to comfort me, and to suffer alone ? He has threatened thee."

Rudi. "I do assure thee it is not so, mother. He has told me that I am to
be a day-laborer, at the building of the church, and the squire pays every man
twenty-five kreutzers a day, wages."

Mother. "Lord God! Can this be true?"

Rudi. " Yes, mother, it is indeed ! And there is work for more than a whole
year."

Mother. " Now I shall die more easy, Rudi. Great God, thou art merciful !
0, be so to the end! And, Rudi, be thou sure, that the greater our want, the
nearer is his help."

She was silent for a while, and then said again, " I believe it is all over with
me ! my breath grows shorter every moment — we must part, Rudi — I will take
lea/e of thee."

Rudi trembled, shuddered, took off his cap, and knelt down by his mother's
•bed, folded his hands, raised his eyes to heaven, and tears and sobs choked his
speech.

Then said his mother: "Take courage, Rudi! I trust in an eternal life,
where we shall meet again. Death is a moment which passes away — I do not
fear it — I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter
•day upon the earth: and though, after my skin, worms destroy this body, yet in
my flesh shall I see God : whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall be-
hold, and not another."

Rudi had now recovered himself, and said: "Give me thy blessing, mother!
If it be the will of God, may I soon follow thee to eternal life."

Then said his mother: "Hear me, heavenly Father, and grant thy blessing
upon my child ! Upon this, the only child whom thou hast given me, and who
• is so dear to me! Rudi, may my God and Saviour be with thee, and as he
showed mercy unto Isaac and Jacob, for their father Abraham's sake, so may he
show mercy unto thee, abundantly, for the sake of my blessing ; that thy heart
may rejoice and be glad, and praise his name."

"Hear me now, Rudi! and do as I say. Tcjich thy children regularity and

058 LEONARD AM) (JKKTKl Dlv

industry, that they may never come to want, nor grow disorderly and idle
Teach them to hope and trust in Almighty God, and to be kind to each other in
joy and in sorrow. So will it be well with them, even in poverty.

" Forgive the bailiff; and, when I am dead and buried, go to him, and tell
him that I die in charity with him, 'and if God hears my prayer, he will yet do
well and come to the knowledge of himself, before he must depart hence."

After a pause, the mother said again: "Rudi, give me my two bibles, my
prayer-books, and a paper, which is lying under my handkerchief, in a little
box."

And Rudi rose from his knees and brought them all to his mother.

Then she said : " Now bring all the children to me.'' He brought them from
the table, where they were sitting weeping, and they all knelt down by her bed-
side.

Then she said to them: "Weep not so, my children! your heavenly Father
will support and bless you — you are very dear to me, and I grieve to leave you
so poor, and without a mother. But hope in God, and trust in him, whatever
ma}'' befall you ; so will you always find in him, more than a father's help, or a
mother's kindness. Remember me, my darlings I I have nothing to leave you,
but I have loved you tenderly, and I know that you love me also. My bibles
and my prayer-books are almost all I have left, but do not think them trifles,
my children ! — They have comforted and cheered me, a thousand times, in my
troubles. Let the word of God be also your comfort and your joy; and love
one another; and help and advise one another, as long as you live; and be
honest, true, kind, and obliging, to all men — so will you pass well through life.

" And thou, Rudi, keep the great bible for Betheli, and the smaller one for
Rudeli ; and the two prayer-books for the little ones, for a remembrance of me.

" I have nothing for thee, Rudi ! but thou needest no remembrance of me —
thou wilt not forget me."

Then she called Rudeli again to her: " Give me thy hand, my dear child ! Be
sure thou never stealest again."

" No indeed, grandmother, believe me ! I will never take any thing from any
body again," said Rudeli, with burning tears.

"And I do believe thee, and will pray to God for thee," said the mother.
"See, my love, I give thy father a paper which the pastor, with whom I lived
servant, gave me. When thou art older read it, and think of me, and be good
and true."

It was a certificate from the late pastor of Eichstatten, that Catharine, the
sick woman, had served him ten years, and helped him, indeed, to bring up his
children, after the death of his wife ; that all had been intrusted to Catharine ;
and that she had looked after every thing most carefully. The pastor thanked
her in it, and said that she had been as a mother to his children, and he should
never forget the assistance she had been to him in his difficulties. She had also
earned a considerable sum of money in his service, which she gave to her
deceased husband to buy the meadow, which the bailiff had afterward taken
from him by a law suit.

After she had given Rudi this paper, she said : " There are two good shifts
there. Do not put either of them on me when I am buried — the one I have on,
is good enough. And when I am dead, let my gown and my two aprons be cut
up for the children."

Soon afterward, she added: "Look carefully after Betheli, Rudi! She is such

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 550,

a delicate child ; and always let the children be kept clean, and well washed and
combed; and every year let them have spring herbs to sweeten their blood;
they do them so much good. And if thou canst manage it, keep a goat for
them, during the summer — Betheli can take care of it now. It grieves me to
think that thou wilt be so solitary, but keep up thy courage, and do what thou
canst. This work at the church will be a great help to thee — I thank God for
it."

The mother was now silent, and the children and their father remained for a
time upon their knees, praying. Then they stood up, and Rudi said to his moth-
er : " Mother, I will now go and get the leaves for thy coverlid."

She answered : " There is no hurry for that, Rudi ! The room is warmer now,
thank God! and thou must go to the mason's with the child."

And Rudi beckoned Betheli out of the room, and said : " Watch thy grand-
mother carefully, and if any thing happens to her, send Anneli after me. I shall,
be at the mason's."

CHAPTER xvm. — A POOR BOY ASKS PARDON FOR HAVING STOLEN POTATOES,

AND THE SICK WOMAN DIES.

AND he took the little one by the hand, and went with him.

Gertrude was alone in the house when they arrived, and soon saw that both
the boy and his father had tears in their eyes. " What dost thou want, neigh-
bor Rudi ? Why art thou weeping ? Why is the little fellow weeping ?" said
she, kindly taking his hand.

"Alas, Gertrude? I am in trouble," answered Rudi. "I am come to thee,
because Rudeli has taken potatoes out of your heap. Yesterday his grand-
mother found it out, and he has confessed it — forgive us, Gertrude.

" His grandmother is on her death-bed — she has just taken leave of us. And.
I am so wretched, I scarcely know what I am saying — Gertrude ! she begs thy
forgiveness too — I am sorry I can not pay thee back now; but I will willingly
work a couple of days for thee, to make it up. Forgive us ! — The boy did it
from hunger."

Gertrude. "Say not another word about it, Rudi: and thou, dear little fel-
low ! come and promise me never to take any thing from any body again." She
kissed him, and said: "Thou hast an excellent grandmother! only grow up as
pious and as good as she is."

Rudeli. "Forgive me, Gertrude! I will never steal again."

Ger. "No, my child, never do so again. Thou dost not yet know how mis-
erable and unhappy all thieves become. Do so no more : and if thou art hun-
gry, come to me instead, and tell me. If I can, I will give thee something to-
eat."

Rudi. "I thank God, I have now got work at the building of the church,
and I hope hunger will never lead him to do any thing of the kind again."

Ger. " My husband and I were very glad to hear that the squire had fixed
upon thee as one."

Rudi. "And I am so glad that my mother has lived to have this comfort 1
Tell thy husband, I will work under him honestly and truly, and be there early
and late ; and I shall be very glad to allow any wages, to pay for the potatoes.""

Ger. " Say nothing of that, Rudi. I am sure my husband will never take
it. God be praised, we are now much better off, on account of this building.
Rudi, I will go with thee to thy mother, as she is so very ill."

560 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE

She filled Rudeli's pocket with apples, and said to him once more : " Remem-
ber, my dear child, never to take any thing from any body again;" and she
then went with Rudi to his mother.

And as he was collecting some leaves under a nut-tree, to fill his mother's
coverlid, Gertrude helped him — and then went with him to her.

Gertrude spoke kindly to the sick woman, took her hand, and wept.

"Dost thou weep, Gertrude?" said the grandmother. "It is we who should
weep. Hast thou forgiven us? "

Ger. "0, do not talk of forgiveness, Catharine! Your distress goes to my
heart, and still more thy goodness and carefulness. Thy carefulness and hon-
esty will certainly bring down the blessing of God upon thy children, Catharine."

Catharine. " Hast thou forgiven us, Gertrude ? "

Ger. " Say no more about that, Catharine. I only wish I could do any thing
'to give thee ease, in thy sickness."

Oath. " Thou art very good, Gertrude, and I thank thee ; but God will soon
help me. Rudeli, hast thou asked her pardon? Has she.forgiven thee? "

Rudeli. "Yes, grandmother: see how good she is." He showed her his
pocket full of apples.

"How very sleepy I am," said the grandmother. "Hast thou asked her for-
giveness properly ? "

Rud. " Yes, grandmother, with my whole heart."

Cafh. "A slumber creeps over me, and my eyes grow dim. I am going,
Gertrude 1 " said she softly, and in broken words. " There is one thing more, I
wish to ask thee ; but I don't know whether I dare. This unfortunate child has
stolen from thee — may I ask thee, Gertrude, when — I am dead — these poor —
desolate children — they — are so desolate" — she stretched out her hand — (her
eyes were already closed,) "may I — hope — follow her — Rud" — she expired,
unable to finish.

Rudi thought she had only dropped asleep, and said to the children : "Do
not speak a word, she is asleep. 0, if she should yet recover ! "

But Gertrude thought it was death, and told Rudi so.

How he and all the little ones wrung their hands in anguish, I can not de
scribe. Reader! let me be silent and weep — for it goes to my heart to thinj
how man, in the dust of earth, ripens to immortality ; and how, in the pom|
and vanity of the world, he decays without coming to maturity. Weigh then,
0 man, weigh the value of life, on the bed of death ; and thou who despisest
the poor, pitiest and dost not know him— tell me whether he can have lived un-
happy, who can thus die ! — But I refrain. I wish not to teach you, 0 men 1 I
only wish you to open your eyes, and see for yourselves, what really is happiness
or misery, a blessing or a curse in this world.

Gertrude comforted poor Rudi, and told him the last wish of his excellent
mother, which, in his trouble, he had not heard.

Rudi took her by the hand, confidingly — " What a sad affliction it is to lose
my dear mother I How good she was ! I am sure. Gertrude, thou will remem-
ber her wish."

Ger. " I must have a heart of stone if I could forget it. I will do what I
can for thy children."

Rudi. " God will repay thee what thou dost for us."

Gertrude turned toward the window, wiped the tears from her face, raised
: her eyes to heaven, and sighed deeply. Then she took up Rudeli and his sis-

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 5gj

•ters, one after the other, kissed them with warm tears, prepared the corpse tor
the grave, and did not go home till she had done every thing which was neces-
sary.

CHAPTER XLX. — GOOD SPIRITS COMFORT, CHEER, AND SUPPORT A MAN, BUT
ANXIETY IS A CONTINUAL TORMENT.

THE bailiff', after he had been to Rudi, proceeded to the other day-laborers.
And first he went to Jogli Bar. He found him splitting wood, and singing and
whistling over his chopping-log ; but when he saw the bailiff, he looked up in
-astonishment: "If you are come for money, bailiff, I have none."

Bailiff. "Thou art singing and whistling like a bird in a granary. How
canst thou be without money ? "

Bar. "If crying would bring bread, I should not be whistling. But, in good
earnest, what do you want 1 "

Bailiff. " Nothing ; but to tell thee, that thou art to be a helper at the build-
ing of the church, and to have twenty-five kreutzers a day."

Bar. " Can that be true ? "

Bailiff. " It is, indeed. Thou must go up to the hall on Monday."

Bar. " If it is really true, I am very thankful for it, Mr. Bailiff. You see
•now that I might well be singing and whistling to-day."

The bailiff went away, laughing; and said to himself: "I never know what
it is to be as merry as this beggar."

Bar went into the house, to his wife. "Keep up a good heart, wife. I am
to be day -laborer at the building of the church I "

Wife. "It will be long enough before thou hast such a piece of luck. Thou
hast always a bag full of hope, but not of bread."

Bar. "There shall be no want of bread, when once I get my daily wages."

Wife. "But there may be want of wages."

Bar. " No, child, no ! Arner pays his laborers well. No fear of that."

Wife. "Art thou joking, or can it be true about the building? "

Bar. "The bailiff has just been here to tell me to go on Monday to the hall,
with the other laborers who are to work at the church ; so it can not well miss."

Wife. "Heaven be praised, if it prove so: if I may hope to have one com-
fortable hour! "

Bar. " Thou shalt have many a one. I am as light-hearted as a child about
it. Thou wilt no longer scold me, when I come home laughing and merry. J
will bring thee every kreutzer, as fast as I get it. I should have no pleasure in
life, if I did not hope that the time would yet come, when thou shouldst think,
with joy, that thou hast a good husband. If thy little property was soon lost
in my hands, forgive me. God willing, I will yet make it up to thee."

Wife. "I am glad to see thee merry; but I am always afraid it is from
* houghtlessness. "

Bar. " What have I neglected ? or what have I done that was wrong? "

Wife. " Nay, I do not accuse thee of that ; but thou art never troubled when
we have no bread."

Bar. " Would my being troubled bring us bread? "

Wife. "Do what I will, I can not help it: — it always makes me low."

Bar. " Take courage, and cheer up, wife. It makes things easier."
Wife. " Thou hast never a coat to go up to the hall in on Monday."

Bar. " Oh, then I will go in half of one. Thou always findest something to
fret about," said he; and went off to his log, and split wood until dark.

502 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

From hira, the bailiff went to Laupi, who was not at home ; so he left the
message with Hugli, his neighbor, and went on to Hans Leemann.

CHAPTER xx. — FOOLISH GOSSIPING LEADS TO IDLENESS.

HE was standing at his door, staring around him, saw the bailiff at a distance
and said to himself: " Now we shall have some news." " What brings you this
way, Mr. Bailiff? "

Bailiff. " I am in search of thee, Leemann."

Leemann. " It is doing me a great honor, Mr. Bailiff— but tell me, how is the
mason's wife going on ? Is she as pert as she was yesterday in the church-yard ?
What a witch she was, bailiff I "

Bailiff. " Thou must not say so now. Thou art to be helper to her husband."

Leemann. " Is there no other news, that you come to me with such a tale? "

Bailiff. "Nay, it is true enough, and I am come, by the squire's orders, to
tell thee of it."

Leemann. " How did I come to this honor, Mr. Bailiff? "

Bailiff. " I think it must have been in thy sleep."

Leemann. " I will awake, however, if this be true. What time must one go-
to the work ? "

Bailiff. " I suppose in a morning."

Leemann. "And in an afternoon too, I fancy. How many of us are there,
Mr. Bailiff?"

Bailiff. "Ten."

Leemann. " I wonder who they are ! Tell me."

The bailiff told him all the names in order. Between every one Leemann
guessed twenty others — not such a one? nor such a one? — "I am losing time,"
said the bailiff at last, and went on.

CHAPTER xxi. — INGRATITUDE AND ENVY.

FROM him, the bailiff went to Jogli Lenk. He was lying on the stove-bench,
smoking his pipe. His wife was spinning, and five half naked children were
sprawling around.

The bailiff told his message in few words.

Lenk took the pipe out of his mouth, and answered: "It's a wonder that any
good thing comes to me 1 I have always been far enough out of the way of
such luck, till now."

Bailiff. "And many others with thee, Lenk."

Lenk. "Is my brother amongst the day -laborers ?"

Bailiff. "No."

Lenk. " Who are the others? "

The bailiff told him their names.

Lenk. " But my brother is a far better workman than Rudi, or Bar, or Marx.
I say nothing of Kriecher. On my life, there is not another amongst the ten,
except myself, who is half so good a workman. Bailiff, can not you manage to
get him in ? "

"I don't know" said the bailiff; and cutting short the discourse, he went
away.

Lenk's wife, who was at her wheel, said nothing till the bailiff was out of
hearing; but the conversation troubled her; and as soon as the bailiff was gone
s.ie said to her husband: "Thou art thankless both to God and man. When.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 5(33

God sends thee help in thy great distress, them dost nothing but abuse thy neigh-
bors, whom he has also helped."

Lenk. " I shall have to work for the money, and not get it for nothing."

Wife. " Till now, thou hadst no work to get any by."

Lenk, " But then I had no labor."

Wife. "And thy children no bread."

"What had I more than you?" said the lazy lubber. His wife was silent,
and wept bitter tears.

CHAPTER xxn. — REMORSE FOR PERJURY CAN NOT BE ALLAYED BY CRAFTY ARTS.

FROM Lenk the bailiff went to Kriecher, and as he was going, came unex-
pectedly upon Hans Wust.

'If he had seen him in time, he would have slipped out of the way; for, since
Rudi's affair, the bailiff and Wust never met without feelings of self-reproach ;
but the bailiff met him unawares, at the corner of the side street, near the low-
er well.

"Art thou there, Wust?" said the bailiff.

"Yes, bailiff," answered Wust.

Bailiff. "Why dost thou never come near me? Hast thou forgotten the
money I lent thee ? "

Wust. "I have no money at present, and when I look back, I am afraid I
have paid too dearly for your money already."

Bailiff. "Thou didst not talk in this way, Wust, when I gave it thee. It i»
serving a man ungraciously."

Wust. "Serving a man is one thing — but, serving a man so that one can
never have another comfortable hour on God's earth, is another."

Bailiff. " Talk not so, Wust ! Thou didst not swear any thing but what
was true."

Wust. "So you always say. But I can not but feel in my heart that I
swore falsely."

Bailiff. "That is not true, Wust! On my soul, it is not true. Thou didst
but swear to what was read to thee, and it was very carefully worded. I read
it to thee more than a hundred times, and it appeared to thee hi the same light
as it did to me, and thou saidst always 'Yes; I can swear to that!' Was it
not so, Wust? And why art thou now fretting about it? But it is only on ac-
count of thy debt. Thou wouldst have me wait longer."

Wust. "No, bailiff; you are mistaken. If I had the money, I would pay it
down this moment, that I might never see your face again ; for my heart smites
me whenever I look at you." '

" Thou art a fool !" said the bailiff; but his own heart smote him also.

Wust. "I saw it as you do, for a long tune; for it did not come to me at
first, that the squire spoke as if he saw it in quite a different light."

Bailiff. " Thou hast nothing to do with what the squire said about it. Thou
didst but swear to the paper that was read to thee."

Wust. u Yes; but he passed judgment according to what he had understood
from it."

Bailiff. " If the squire was a fool, let him look after it. What is that to thee ?
He had the paper in his hand ; and if it did not seem clear to him, he should
have had it written differently."

H '//>/. •• I know you can always out-talk me; but that does not comfort my

664 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

conscience. And at church, on a sacrament day, I am in such a horrible state,
that I could sink into the earth 1 0 bailiff, v/ould that I had never owed you any
thing ! Would that I had never known you, or that I had died the day before
I was forsworn ! "

Bailiff. "For God's sake, Wust, do not fret in this way. It -is folly. Think
of all the circumstances. We went about it very carefully. In thy presence I
asked the pastor's assistant, point-blank : Will Wust have sworn to any thing but
what is in the paper, supposing he does not understand it right? Post thou not
remember his answer ? "

Wust. "Yes; but still "

Bailiff. "Nay, he said these very words; — Wust will not have sworn to
hair more than is in the paper. Were not these his words ? "

Wust. " Yes ; but then is it so, because he said it? "

Bailiff. " Is it so ? What, art thou not satisfied ? "

Wust. "No, bailiff? I will speak out for once. The late pastor's assistant
owed you money, as well as myself; and you know what a fellow he was, and
how disorderly. It is little comfort to me what such a reckless creature said."

Bailiff. "His way of life was nothing to thee. He understood the right
doctrine, and that thou knowest."

Wust. "Nay, I know it not. But I know he was good for nothing."

Bailiff. " But what did that signify to thee ? "

Wust. " Why, for my part, if I know a man has been very wicked and bad
an one point, I dare not trust to his goodness in any other. Therefore I am afraid
•that this worthless man deceived me, and then what is to become of me ? "

Bailiff. "Let these thoughts go, Wust! Thou hast sworn to nothing but
•what was true."

Wust. "I did so, for a long time; but it's over now. I can not cheat my-
self any longer. Poor Rudi I Wherever I go or stand, I see him before me.
Poor Rudi I how his misery, and hunger, and want, must rise up to God against
me 1 0, and his children, they are such sickly, starved, ricketty things ; and as
yellow as gipsies. They were fine, stout, healthy children ; and my oath took
the meadow from them,"

Bailiff. " I had a right to it. It was as I told thee. And now, Rudi has
•work at the building of the church, and may come round again."

Wust. " What good can that do me ? If I had not sworn, it would be all
the same to me, whether Rudi were rich or a beggar."

Bailiff. "Do not let it disturb thee so! I had a right to it."

Wust. "Not disturb me? If I had broken into his house and stolen all his
•goods, it would trouble me less. 0 bailiff, bailiff! that I should have acted thus !
It is now near Easter again. I wish I were buried a thousand feet deep in the
-earth!"

Bailiff. " For heaven's sake, Wust, do not go on in this way in the open
street, before all the people. If any body should hear thee 1 It is thine own
stupidity that plagues thee. All that thou hast sworn to was true."

Wust. " Stupidity here, stupidity there ! If I had not sworn, Rudi would
still have had his meadow."

Bailiff. " But thou didst not say it was not his, or that it was mine. What
in the devil's name is it to thee who has the meadow ? "

Wust. " It is nothing to me who has the meadow, but it is that I have sworn
falsely."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 5^5

Bailiff. " I tell thee it is not true that them hast sworn falsely. That which
thou didst swear to, was true."

Wust. " But it was a deceit ! I did not tell the squire how I understood the
writing; and he understood it differently. Say what you will, I know, I feel it
in myself, that I was a Judas, and a betrayer ; and that my oath was a false one,
words or no words."

Bailiff. " I arn sorry for thee, Wust, that thou art so stupid ; but thou art
ill ; thou lookest like one risen from the grave ; and when a man is not well he
sees things so differently. Compose thyself, Wust. Come home with me, and
let us drink a glass of wine together."

Wust. " I can not, bailiff. Nothing upon earth can cheer me now."

Bailiff. " Comfort thyself, Wust. Drive it out of thy head, and forget it till
thou art well again. Thou wilt then perceive that I was in the right, and I will
tear thy note in pieces. Perhaps it will be a relief to thee."

Wust. "No bailiff! keep the note. If I must eat my own flesh for hunger,
I will pay you that debt. I will not have the price of blood upon my soul. If
you have betrayed me, if the pastor's assistant has deceived me, perhaps God
will forgive me. I did not mean it to turn out so."

Bailiff. "Here is thy note, Wust. See, I destroy it before thy eyes; and I
take it on my own responsibility that I was in the right ; and now be comforted."

Wust. " Take what you will upon yourself, bailiff, I will pay you my debt.
The day after to-morrow I will sell my Sunday coat, and pay you."

Bailiff. " Think better of it. Thou deceivest thyself, upon my life. But I
must go away now."

Wust. "It is a mercy that you are going. If you were to stay much longer,
I should go mad before your eyes."

Bailiff. " Quiet thyself, for heaven's sake, Wust." They then separated.

But the bailiff, when he was alone, could not help saying to himself with a
sigh : " I am sorry he met me just now. I have had enough before to-day, with-
out this." He soon, however, hardened himself again, and said: "I am sorry
for the poor wretch ; he is so troubled ! but he is in the wrong. It is nothing to
him how the judge understood it. The devil might take the oaths, if the exact
meaning of them were to be looked after so sharply. I know that other people,
and those who should understand the thing best, take oaths after their own way
of interpreting them, and are undisturbed, where a poor wretch, who thinks like
Wust, would say he saw as clear as day that it was a deceit. But I wish these
thoughts were out of my head, they make me uncomfortable 1 I will go back
and drink a glass of wine." He did so, and then went to Felix Kriecher.

CHAPTER xxm. — A HYPOCRITE, AND A SUFFERING WOMAN.
FELIX KRIECHER was a man who always had the air of enduring the greatest
afflictions with the patience of a martyr. To the barber, the bailiff, and every
stranger, he bowed as low as to the pastor ; and he went to all the weekly pray-
ers at church, and to all the Sunday evening singing. Sometimes he got, by
this means, a glass of wine ; and occasionally, when he was very late, and man-
aged well, had an invitation to supper. He took great pains to be in favor with
all the pietists of the village, but could not quite succeed ; for he was very care-
ful not to offend the other party on their account, and this does not suit fanatics.
They will not let their disciples be well with both sides ; and thus, notwith-
standing his appearance of humility, and all the hypocritical arts he practiced

566 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE

and even his spiritual pride, which generally suits fanatics, he was not admitted
into their set

With all these exterior and acknowledged qualities, he had some others ; and
though these were only for secret use in his domestic life, I must now speak of
them.

To his wife and children he was a devil. In the most extreme poverty he
still insisted upon having something dainty to eat; and if he did not get it, all
went wrong — the children were not properly combed and washed ; and if he
could find nothing else to blame, and one of his little children of four years old
stared at him, he would beat it, to teach it proper respect to him.

" Thou art a fool ! " said his wife to him one day when this had occurred.
But, though she was quite right, and had told him nothing but the simple truth,
he kicked her for it ; and as she was running away from him, she fell by the
door, and made two deep wounds in her head. This frightened the man ; for he
thought, wisely enough, that a broken head might tell tales.

And as all hypocrites, when they are alarmed, crouch, and fawn, and humble
themselves, so did Kriecher to his wife. He coaxed her; and begged and en-
treated, for God's sake, not that she would forgive him, but that she would
promise to tell nobody of it. She did so, and patiently endured the. pain of a
very bad wound, and told the barber and the other neighbors that she had
fallen ; but many of them did not believe her. Poor woman 1 she might have
known beforehand that no hypocrite was ever grateful, or kept his word, and
should not have trusted him. But what do I say? Alas! she knew all this;
but she thought of her children, and knew that God only could change his heart,
and that it was of no use to be talking about it. She is an excellent woman,
and it is grievous to think how unhappy he makes her, and what she suffers
daily by his means. She was silent, but prayed to God; and thanked him for
the afflictions with which he tried her.

0 eternity ! — when thou revealest the ways of God, and the blessedness of
those to whom he teaches steadfastness, courage, and patience, by suffering,
want, and sorrow — 0 eternity 1 how wilt thou exalt those tried ones who have
been so lowly here.

Kriecher had forgotten the wounds, almost before they were healed, and went
on as usual. He tormented and harassed his wife, without cause or excuse,
every day, and embittered her life. A quarter of an hour before the bailiff
came, the cat had overturned the lamp, and wasted a drop or two of oil.
" Thou stupid creature, thou shouldst have taken better care," said he to his wife,
with his accustomed fury; "thou mayst now sit in the dark, and light the fire
with cow-dung, thou horned beast 1" His wife said not a word, but the tears
streamed down her cheeks, and the children cried in the corners with their
mother.

At this moment the bailiff knocked. "Hush! for heaven's sake, be quiet!
"What is to be done? The bailiff is at the door," said Kriecher, and, hastily
wiping off the children's tears with his handkerchief; he threatened to cut them
in pieces, if he heard another whimper; then opened the door to the bailiff,
bowed, and said: "What are your commands, Mr. Bailiff?" The bailiff told
him his errrand, briefly.

But Kriecher, who was listening at the door, and heard no more crying, an-
swered: "Come into the room, Mr. Bailiff, and I will tell my dear wife what a
piece of good fortune has befallen us." The bailiff went into the room, and

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 567

Kriecher said to his wife : " The bailiff has just brought me the good news that
I am to be one of the day-laborers at the building of the church; and a great
favor it is, for which I can not be sufficiently thankful."

The wife answered, "Thank God!" and a sigh escaped from her.

Bailiff. " Is something the matter with thy wife? "

"She is not very well to-day, Mr. Bailiff," said Kriecher, throwing an angry,
threatening look toward his wife.

Bailiff. "I must be going on. I wish her better."

Wife. u Good-bye, Mr. Bailiff."

Kriecher. " May I beg you, Mr. Bailiff, to be so good as to thank the squire,
in my name, for this favor."

Bailiff. '• Thou canst thank him thyself."

Kriech. " You are right, Mr. Bailiff. It was a great liberty in me to ask you
to do it. I will go to-morrow to the hall. It is my duty to do so."

Bailiff. "All the others are going on Monday morning, and I think thou
hadst better go with them."

Kriech. " Of course, yes, certainly, Mr. Bailiff. I did not know they were
going."

Bailiff. "Good-bye, Kriecher."

Kriech. "I am greatly indebted to you, Mr. Bailiff.

Bailiff. " Thou hast nothing to thank me for." And he went away, saying
to himself, "I am much mistaken, if this fellow is not one of the devil's own.
Perhaps he is the kind of man to suit me with the mason — but who dare
trust a hypocrite ? I would rather have Shaben Michel. He is a downright
rogue."

CHAPTER xxiv. — AN HONEST, JOYFUL, THANKFUL HEART.

FROM Kriecher the bailiff went to young Abi, who jumped for joy when he
heard the good, news ; and sprang up like a young heifer when it is turned out
in spring. " I will go and tell my wife, that she may rejoice with me. No! I
will wait till to-morrow. To-morrow it will be eight years since we were mar-
ried. It was St. Joseph's day. I remember it, as if it were yesterday. "We
have had many a hard hour since ; but many a happy one, too. God be thanked
for all. To-morrow, as soon as she wakes, I will tell her. I wish the time were
come ! I can see just how she will laugh and cry over it ; and how she will
press her children and me to her heart for joy. 0 that to-morrow were come !
I will kill the cock, and boil it in the broth, without her knowing any thing
about it. She would enjoy it then, though she would be sorry to have it killed.
No, no ! it will be no sin to kill it for such a joyful occasion. I will venture it.
I will stay at home all day and make merry with her and the children. No, I
will go with her to church and to the sacrament. We will rejoice and be glad ;
and thank God for all his goodness."

Thus did young Abi talk to himself, in the joy of his heart, at the good news
the bailiff had brought him. He could scarcely, in his eagerness, wait till the
morrow came, when he did as he had said he would.

CHAPTER xxv. — HOW ROGUES TALK TO EACH OTHER.
FROM Abi the bailiff went to Shaben Michel, who saw him at a distance, beck-
oned him into a corner, behind the house, and said: "What the deuce art thou
about now ? "

568 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Bailiff. "A merry-making."

Michel. " Truly, thou art a likely fellow to be sent out to invite guests to
weddings, dances, and merry-makings."

Bailiff. " Well, it is nothing dismal, at all events."

Mich. "What then!"

Bailiff. " Thou art got into new company."

Mich. " Who are they, and what is it for? "

Bailiff. "Hubel Rudi, Jenk, Leemann, Kriecher, and Marx Reuti."

Mich. " Nonsense ! What have I to do with these fellows ? "

Bailiff. " To build up and adorn the house of the Lord in Bonnal, and the
walls round about it."

Mich. " In sober earnest ?"

Bailiff. "Yes, by G !"

Mich. " But who has chosen out the blind and lame for this work? "

Bailiff. " The well and nobly born, my wise and potent master, the squire ! "

Mich. "Is he mad?"

Bailiff. " How should I know ? "

Mich. "This looks like it."

Bailiff. " Perhaps it would not be the worst thing that could happen. Light
wood is easily, turned. But I must away. Come to me to-night, I want to
speak to thee."

Mich. " I will not fail. Who art thou for next ? "

Bailiff. "Marx Reuti."

Mich. " He is a proper fellow for work ! a man must be out of his mind to
choose him. I do n't believe he takes a mattock or spade into his hand the year
through ; and he is half lame on one side."

Bailiff. " What does that signify ? Only do thou come to me to-night."

The bailiff then went on to Marx Reuti.

CHAPTER xxvi. — PRIDE, IN POVERTY AND DISTRESS, LEADS TO THE MOST UN-
NATURAL AND HORRIBLE DEEDS.

THIS man had formerly been well off, and carried on business for himself; but
he was now without occupation, and lived almost entirely upon the charity of
the pastor and some of his relations, who were able to help him.

In all his distress, he always kept up his pride, and concealed, as much as he-
could, the want and hunger of his family, except from those who gave him as-
sistance.

When he saw the bailiff, he started — I can not say he turned pale, for he wa&
always as white as a ghost. He took up the rags which lay about, and thrust
them under the coverlid of the bed, and ordered the half-naked children to hide
themselves directly in the next room. " Lord Jesus ! " said the children, " it
snows and rains in. Only listen what a storm it is ! There is no window in
the room."

" Get along, you godless brats ! how you distract me. Do you think there is
no need for you to learn to mortify the flesh ? "

"We can riot bear it, father! " said the children.

" He will not stay long, you heretics ! " said the father ; and pushing them in,
he fastened the door, and then invited the bailiff into the house.

When he had delivered his message, Marx thanked him, and said : " Am I to-
be an overlooker over these men ? "

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

" What art thou thinking of, Marx ? " answered the bailiff. " No ! thou art to
be a day-laborer with the rest."

Marx. "So, Mr. Bailiff!"

Bailiff. "It is at thy own choice, if thou dost not like the work."

Marx. "In truth, I am not accustomed to any thing of the kind; but, if the
squire and the pastor wish it, I can not decline, and will undertake it."

Bailiff. " It will rejoice them greatly ; and I think the squire will almost
send me again to thank thee."

Marx. "Nay, I don't mean exactly that; but, in a common way, I cannot
serve every body as a day-laborer.

Bailiff. " Then thou hast enough to eat, I suppose."

Marx. " Thank God ! I have as yet."

Bailiff. " But I know well enough where thy children are."

Marx. " They are dining with my wife's sister."

Bailiff. " I thought I heard children crying in the next room."

Marx. " There is not one of them in the house."

The bailiff heard the cry again, opened the door, without ceremony, saw the
almost naked children shivering and sobbing with the wind, rain, and snow,
which came in through the' window, so that they could hardly speak, and said :
" Is this the place where thy children dine, Marx? Thou art a hound, and a
hypocrite, and thy damned pride often makes thee act in this way."

Marx. "For heaven's sake, do not tell any body ; do not betray me, Bailiff!
I should be the most miserable man in the world if it were known."

Bailiff. " Art thou out of thy senses ? Even now thou dost not tell them to
come out of such a dog-kennel. Dost thou not see that they are yellow and
blue with cold ? I would not use my poodle in such a way."

Marx. " Come out, then, children — but, bailiff, for mercy's sake, tell nobody."

Bailiff. " And all this time, forsooth, thou playestthe saint before the pastor."

Marx. " I beseech you tell nobody."

Bailiff. " Thou art worse than a brute. Thou a saint! Thou art an infidel.
Dost thou hear ? thou art an infidel, for no true man would act in such a way.
And why must thou go and tell tales to the priest about the battle which took
place last week. It must have been thou who told him ; for at twelve o'clock,,
when it happened, thou wert going home, past my house, from one of thy holy
banquets."

Marx. "No, on my life I Do not believe it. I assure you it was not so."

Bailiff. " Darest thou say so ? "

Marx. " God knows it was not so, bailiff! May I never stir from this spot
if it was ! "

Bailiff. " Marx ! darest thou maintain what thou sayest before me to the
pastor's face ? I know more about it than thou thinkest."

Marx stammered : " I know — I could — I did not begin " —

" Such a brute, and such a liar as thou art, I never saw in my life ! "We un-
derstand each other now," said the bailiff: and he went that moment to the
pastor's cook, who laughed till she was half dead at the pious Israelite, Marx
Reuti, and faithfully promised to bring it to the pastor's ears.

And the bailiff rejoiced in his heart that, probably, the pastor would give the-
wicked heretic his weekly bread no longer ; but he was mistaken, for the pastor
had, before this, given him the bread, not on account of his virtues, but of his
hunger.

570 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

CHAPTER xxvu. — ACTIVITY AND INDUSTRY, WITHOUT A KIND AND GRATEFUL

HEART.

FROM Marx the bailiff' went to the last of the number. This was Kienast, a
sickly man. He was not yet fifty years old, but poverty and anxiety had worn
him out, and this day, in particular, he was in terrible distress.

His eldest daughter had, the day before, hired herself out to service in the
town, and had showed her father the earnest-money that morning, which made
the poor man very uneasy.

His wife was with child, and near her time ; and Susan was the only one of the
children who could be any help to them, and now she was to go to service in a
fortnight.

The father begged her, with tears in his eyes, to return the money, and stay
with him, till after her mother's confinement. *

"I will not," answered the daughter. "Where shall I find another service,
if I give up this?"

Father. " After thy mother is brought to bed, I will go myself into the
town, and help thee to find another. Only stay till then."

Daughter. "It will be half a year before I can hire myself again; and the
service I have got is a good one. ' "Who knows how you will help me ? and, in
short, I will not wait for another attempt."

Father. " But thou kuowest, Susan, that I have done all I could for thee.
Think of thy childhood, and do not leave me hi my necessity."

Daughter. " Dp you wish then, father, to stand in the way of my happiness ? "

Father. " Alas 1 it is not for thy happiness, that thou shouldst leave thy poor
parents in such circumstances. Do not go, Susan, I beg of thee. My wife has
a very handsome apron, it is the last she has left, and she values it very much ;
it was a keepsake ; but she shall give it thee, after her confinement, if thou
wilt only stay."

Daughter. " I will not stay, either for your gifts or your good words. I can
earn such as that, and better. It is time for me to be doing something for my-
self. If I were to stay ten years with you, I should not get a bed and a chest."

Father. " Thou wilt not get these in one half-year. After this once, I will
not seek to detain thee. Stay only these few weeks."

"No, I will not, father! " answered the daughter; and she turned away, and
ran into a neighbor's house.

The father stood there, bent down by anxiety and care, and said to himself:
" What shall I do in this misfortune ? How shall I deliver such a Job's mes-
sage to my poor wife ? I have been very much to blame for not doing my duty
better by this child. I always passed over every thing, because she worked so
well. My wife said to me a hundred times : ' She is so pert and rude to her
parents ; and if she has to teach her sisters, or do any thing for them, she does it
so hastily and saucily, and so entirely without kindness and affection, that
they can none of them ever learn any thing from her 1 ' But she works so well,
we must excuse something, and perhaps it is the fault of the others, was always
my answer ; and now I have my reward. I should have remembered that if
the heart be hard, whatever other good qualities any one may have, they are
all in vain. One can not depend upon them. I wish my wife did but know."

As the man was speaking thus to himself, the bailiff came close up, without
his being aware.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 571

" What darest thou not tell thy wife ? " said he.

Kienast looked up, saw the bailiff, and said: "Is that you, bailiff? What
•dare I not tell my wife? Susan has hired herself out to service in the town,
and we have such need of her at home ! But I had almost forgotten to ask
what you wanted with me."

Bailiff. "If this be the case with Susan, perhaps my news will be a comfort
to thee."

Kienast. "That would, be help indeed/'

Bailiff. " Thou art to have work at the building of the church, and twenty-
five kreutzers a day, wages."

Kienast. "Lord God in heaven! May I hope for such a help as this? "

Bailiff. " Yes, Kienast. It is, indeed, as I tell thee."

Kienast. "Then God be praised for it." He turned faint, and his limbs
shook. " I must sit down. This joy, in my troubles, has overcome me."

He sat down on a log of wood, and leaned against the wall of the house, to
keep himself from falling. .

The bailiff said : " Thou canst bear but little ! "

And Kienast answered : "I have not broken my fast to-day."

"And so late! " said the bailiff; and he went on his way.

The poor wife, from the house, had seen the bailiff join her husband, and
groaned aloud.

" This is some fresh misfortune! My husband has been like one beside him
self all day, and knows not what he is doing ; and just now I saw Susan, in the
next house, lift up her hands in a passion ; and here is the bailiff — what can have
happened ? There is not a more unfortunate woman under the sun ! So neai
forty, and a child every year, and care and want and pain all the tune 1 " Thus
did the poor woman grieve in the house.

The husband, in the mean time, had recovered himself, and came to her with
such a cheerful, happy face as she had not seen for many a month.

" Thou lookest merry ! Dost thou think to keep it from me that the bailiff
lias been here ? " said the woman.

And he answered. "He is come, as it were, from heaven to comfort us."

"Is it possible? " said the woman.

Kienast. "Sit down, wife ! I must tell thee the good news." Then he told
her what Susan had done, and what trouble he had been in ; and how, now, he
was helped out of all his distress.

Then he ate the food, which in his trouble he had left standing there at noon;
and he and his wife shed tears of thankfulness to God, who had thus helped
them in their distress. And they let Susan go, that very day, into service, as
she wished.
CHAPTER xxvin. — A SATURDAY EVENING IN THE HOUSE OF A BAILIFF, WHO is

A LANDLORD.

Now came the bailiff home from his journey, tired and thirsty. It was late ;
for Kienast lived up the hill, two or three miles from the village.

In the mean time he had had it given out by his friends, that he was not at all
alarmed by what had happened yesterday ; and had not been so merry and
jovial as he was to-day, for a year.

This made some take courage, toward evening, to creep quietly to the tavern.

When it began to be dark, still more came ; and at night, by seven o'clock,
the tables were almost as full as usual.

572 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Thus it happens, when a fowler, in autumn, shoots a bird in a cherry-tree, all.
the others, which were pecking at the cherries, fly fearfully and hastily away
from the tree, chirping the note of alarm. But, after a while, one, a solitary
one at first, perches upon the tree — and, if it no longer sees the fowler, it
whistles, not the sound of danger, but the bold, loud note of joy at finding
food. At the call of the daring adventurer, the others flock timidly back again,
and all feed upon the cherries, as if the fowler had never fired.

So it was here ; and thus was the room once more filled with neighbors, who
yesterday, and even this morning, would not have ventured to come.

In all mischievous, and even wicked deeds, people are always merry and
bold, when they are in a crowd, and when those who give the tone to it are
daring and impudent; and, as such leaders are not wanting in taverns, it can
not be denied that such places tempt the common people to all wickedness,
and are much more likely to lead them on to rash and thoughtless deeds, than
poor simple schools are to bring them up to a quiet and domestic life.

The neighbors in the tavern were now the bailiff's friends again ; for they sat
over his ale. One began to say, that the bailiff was a manly fellow, and that,

by G , nobody had ever yet mastered him. Another, that Arner was a child,

and the bailiff had managed his grandfather. Another, that it was not right ; and,
by heaven, he could not answer it to his conscience, thus to cheat the parish of
the landlord's right, which had belonged to it ever since the days of Noah and
Abraham. Another swore, that he had not got possession, by thunder ! and
that there should be a struggle for it yet, in spite of all the devils, and a parish
meeting held to-morrow.

Then again, one said, there is no need of that, for the bailiff had always over-
come all his enemies ; and would not turn over a new leaf, either with his hon-
or the squire, or with the beggarly mason.

Thus did the men go on, talking and drinking.

The bailiff's wife laughed to herself, set one pitcher after another upon the
table, and marked all carefully down with chalk upon a board in the next room.

Now came the bailiff home ; and he rejoiced hi his heart to find the tables
surrounded by the old set.

"This is hearty in you, my good fellows, not to forsake me," said he to
them.

"We are not tired of thee yet," answered the countrymen; and drank his
health, with loud shouts and huzzas.

"There is a great noise, neighbors! We must keep out of trouble; and this
is Saturday night," said the bailiff. " Put the shutters to, wife ; and put out the
lights toward the street. We had better go into the back room. Is it warm,
wife?"

Wife. " Yes, I made a fire there on purpose."

Bailiff. " Very well ; carry all off the table into the back room."

His wife and the neighbors carried the glasses, pitchers, bread, cheese, knives,,
plates, cards, and dice, into the back room; from which, if they had been mur-
dering one another, nothing could have been heard in the street.

" There now, we are safe from rogues and eavesdroppers, and from the holy
servants of the black man.* But I am as thirsty as a hound : give me some
wine."

* Certain church officers, who reported disturbances to the pastor, disrespectfully called ''Mi*
black man1' by the godless bailiff.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 573

His wife brought some.

And Christian said: "Is that of the kind the barber's dog laps up?"

Bailiff. " Yes, indeed, I 'm likelj^ to be such a fool again !"

Chris. "But what devil's scheme had you in your head? "

Bailiff. "By G — , none! It was mere folly. I had eaten nothing, and did
not like to drink."

Chri-s. "Whistle that to a dog; perhaps it may believe you : not I."

Battiff. "Why not?"

Chris. "Why not? Because the wine we were drinking smelt of sulphur
-like the plague."

Bailiff. " Who says so ? "

Chris. "I, Mr. Urias! I said nothing of it at the time; but when I car-
ried home the empty jug, it reeked in my nose so that it almost knocked me
-down. All things considered, you have certainly had some scheme in your
head to-day."

Bailiff. "I know no more than the child in the cradle what wine my wife
-sent. Thou art a fool with thy fancies."

Chris. "Ay, but you know, well enough, what a fine sermon you made on
the rights of the land. I suppose you said all that with as little meaning as a
man has when he takes a pinch of snuff."

Bailiff. "Hold thy foolish tongue, Christian. The best thing I could do,
would be to have thee well beaten for upsetting my jug. But I must know now
how they went on at the barber's after I left them."

Chris. " And your promise, bailiff."

Bailiff. ' ' What promise ? "

Chris. "That I should have wine till morning for nothing, if I got to know
it."

Bailiff. "But if thou knowest nothing, wouldst thou still be drinking? "

Chris. " If I know nothing! Send for the wine, and you shall hear."

The bailiff had it brought, sat down by him ; then Christian told him all he
knew, and more besides. Sometimes he contradicted himself so barefacedly,
that the bailiff perceived it, and called out: "You dog, do 'nt lie so that a
man can take hold of it with his hands ! "

"No, by G ," answered Christian, "as true as I am a sinner, every hair

and point of it is true."

"Come, come," said the bailiff, who by this time had had enough, "Shaben
Michel is here, and I must speak to him ; " and he then went to the other table
where Michel was sitting, slapped him on the shoulder, and said :

OHAPTER xxix. — CONTINUATION OP THE CONVERSATION OP ROGUES WITH EACH

OTHER.

"ART thou also amongst the sinners? I thought, since thou wert called to
the church building, thou hadst become a saint ; like our butcher, because he
-once had to ring a week for the sexton."

Michel. "No, bailiff! My calls are not so sudden; but, when I once begin,
I will go through with it."

Bailiff. " I should like to be thy father confessor, Michel."

Mich. " Nay, I can not consent to that."

Bailiff. "Why not?"

Mich. " Because thou wouldst double my score with thy holy chalk."

574 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Bailiff. " Would not that suit thee ? "

Mich. "No, bailiff ! I must have a father confessor who will forgive and
look over sins, and not one who will chalk them down against me!"

Bailiff. " Well, I can forgive and overlook sins, as well as another "

Mich. " What ! sins in thy books ? "

Bailiff. "Truly, I am often obliged to do so; and it is better people should
think I do it willingly."

Mich. "Is that possible, Mr. Bailiff ? "

" We shall see," said the bailiff, making a sign to him.

They went together to the little table, near the fire.

And the bailiff said : " It is well thou art come ; and lucky for thee."

Mich. "I have great need of luck."

Bailiff. " So I suppose ; but if thou art willing, thou canst not fail to make
money by this new place."

Mich. " And how must I manage it? "

Bailiff. " Thou must get into favor with the mason, and seem very hun-
gry and poor."

Mich. "I can do that without lying."

Bailiff. " Thou must also often give thy supper to thy children, that people
may think thy heart is as soft as melted butter ; and thy children must run
after thee bare-footed and bare-legged."

Mich. " There is no difficulty in that either."

Bailiff. " And when thou art the favorite of all the ten, then comes the true
work."

Mich. " What is that to be ? "

Bailiff. "To do all that thou canst to make quarrels and misunderstandings
about the building ; to throw things into confusion, and to make mischief between,
the laborers and their masters and the squire."

Mich. " There will be more difficulty in that part of the business."

Bailiff. " But it is a part by which thou mayst get money."

Mich. "Ay, if it were not for the hope of that, a cunning man might give
such a direction, but only a fool would follow it."

Bailiff. "It is a matter of course, that thou wilt get money by it."

Mich. "Two crowns in hand, Mr. Bailiff. I must have so much paid down,
or I will have nothing to do with it."

Bailiff. " Thou art more unconscionable every day, Michel. I show thee
how thou mayst get wages for nothing, and thou wouldst have me also pay thee
for taking my good advice."

Mich. " What is all that to the purpose ? Thou wilt have me play the rogue
in thy service, and so I will, and be true and hearty in it ; but payment in hand,
that is two crowns, and not a kreutzer less, I must have, or thou mayst do it
thyself."

Bailiff. "Thou dog! thou knowest well enough how to get thy own way.
There are thy two crowns for thee."

Mich. '' Now it is all right, master ! thou hast nothing to do but to give thy
orders."

Bailiff. " I think thou mayst easily by night break down some of the scaf-
folding, and knock out a couple of the windows ; and of course thou wilt make-
away with ropes and tools, and such light things as are lying around."

Mich. "Naturally."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 575.

Bailiff. " And it would be no very difficult affair to carry some of the timbe?
over the hill to the river, and send it back again toward Holland."

Mich. " No, no ! I can manage that. I will hang a great white shirt upon
a pole, in the middle of the churchyard, that if the watchman, or any of the old
women in the neighborhood hear a noise, they may fancy it is a ghost, and keep
away from me."

Bailiff. " Thou art a rascally heretic. What a scheme 1 "

Mich. " I will do so, however ; it may serve to keep me from the pillory."

Bailiff. " Well, but there is another thing. If thou canst find any drawings,
or calculations, or plans of the squire's, lying about, thou must quietly put them
out of the way, where nobody would think of looking for them, and at night
mend thy fire with them."

Mich. "Very well, Mr. Bailiff."

Bailiff. "And thou must contrive so as to make thy honorable comrades in-
clined to be merry, and work idly, and particularly when the squire or any body
from the hall comes down, and then thou canst wink, as much as to say : You
see how it is."

Mich. " Well, I will do what I can. I see plainly enough what thou art
after."

Bailiff. " But, of all things, the most important is, that thou and I should be
enemies."

Mich. " Very true."

Bailiff. "We will begin directly. There maybe tell-tales here, who will
talk of how we held counsel secretly together."

Mich. " Thou art right."

Bailiff. " Drink another glass or two, and I will pretend as if I would reckon
with thee, and thou wouldst not agree. I will make a noise about it, thou
must abuse me, and we will thrust thee out of the house."

Mich. " Well thought of." He drank what was in the pitcher, and then said
to the bailiff, " Come, begin."

The bailiff muttered something about reckoning, and then said aloud : " I
never received the florin."

Mich. " Recollect yourself, bailiff! "

Bailiff. "By heaven, I know nothing of it! Wife! didst thou receive a
tiorin last week from Michel ? "

Wife. "Heaven bless us! not a kreutzer."

Bailiff. " It is very strange. Give me the book ! " She brought it, and the
oailiff read: "Here it is — Monday — nothing from thee. Tuesday — nothing.
Wednesday — Didst thou say it was on Wednesday ? "

Mich. "Yes!"

Bailiff. "Here is Wednesday — look! there is nothing from thee — and on
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday — not a syllable of the florin."

Mich. " The devil ! I tell you I paid it."

Bailiff. " Softly, softly, good neighbor — I write down every thing."

Mich. "What the deuce is your writing to me, bailiff? I paid the florin."

Bailiff. "It is not true, Michel."

Mich. " Here's a rogue, to say I have not paid him 1 "

Bailiff. "What dost thou say, thou unhanged rascal?"

iSomeof the countrymen got up: — "He has given the bailiff the lie, we heard
him."

,576 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Mich. "No, I did not. But I paid the iiorin."

Men. "What dost thou say, thou knave, that thou didst not give him the
lie ? We all heard it."

Bailiff. " Turn the dog out of the room."

Michel took up a knife, and called out: "Let any one who touches me look
to it."

Bailiff. " Take the knife away from him."

They took the knife from him, turned him out of the room, and sat down
again.

Bailiff. " It 's well he is gone. He was only a spy of the mason's."

Countrymen. "By G , so he was. We are well rid of him."

CHAPTER xxx. — CONTINUATION OF THE CONVERSATION OF ROGUES WITH EACH

OTHER, IN A DIFFERENT STYLE.

BRING us some more wine. Bailiff! we will drink on the strength of the
harvest, and let you have one sheaf out of every ten for a measure of wine.

Bailiff. " You will not pay me soon, then."

Countrymen. " No ; but you will have heavier weight for that."

The bailiff sat down with them, and drank to their hearts' content, on the
strength of the future tithe.

Now their mouths were opened, and there arose from all the tables a wild up-
roar of oaths and curses, of dissolute, idle talk, of abuse and insolence. They
told stories of licentiousness and theft, of blows and insults, of debts they had
cunningly escaped paying, of lawsuits they had won by clever tricks, of wicked-
ness and riots, which for the most part were false ; but, alas 1 too much was
true. How they had stolen from the old squire's woods, and fields, and tithes —
and how their wives whined over their children — how one took up a prayer-
book, and another hid the jug of wine in the chaff and straw. Also of their
boys and girls, — how one helped his father to cheat his mother, and another took
part with the mother against the father — and how they had all done as much or
more when they were lads. Then they got to talking about old Uli, who had
been caught in such fool's talk, and cruelly brought to the gallows ; but how he
had prayed at last and made a holy end of it. And how, when he had confess-
ed, (though, as every body knew, but half,) still the hard-hearted pastor had not
saved his life.

They were in the midst of this history of the pastor's cruelty, when the bailiff's
wife beckoned him to come out. "Wait till we have finished the story of the
hanged man," was his answer.

But she whispered in his ear: "Joseph is come."

He replied : " Hide him somewhere, and I will come soon."

Joseph had crept into the kitchen ; but there were so many people in the
house, that the bailiff's wife was afraid of his being seen. She put out the light,
and said to him : " Joseph ! take off thy shoes, and come after me into the lower
room. My husband will be with thee directly."

Joseph took his shoes in his hand, and followed her on tip-toe into the lower
room.

He had not waited long, before the bailiff came to him, and said : " What dost
thou want so late, Joseph ?"

Joseph. " Not much ! I only want to tell you I have ordered all about the
stone."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 577

Bailiff. "I am glad of it, Joseph."

Joseph. "The master was talking to-day of the wall, and said that the flint
«tone, hard by, was very good — but I told him he was a fool, and did not know
his own business ; and that the wall would look much handsomer, and more
polished, of Schwendi stone. He answered not a word ; and I went on to say
that, if he did not use Schwendi stone, it would be a loss to him."

Bailiff. " Did he resolve upon it ? "

Joseph. "Yes, he did, immediately. "We are to begin with it on Monday."

Bailiff. " The day -laborers are all going to the hall on Monday."

Joseph. " They will be back by noon, and busy with the stuff in the lime.
It is as good as mixed."

Bailiff. " That is all right and well ; if it were only begun — thy money is
ready for thee, Joseph."

Joseph. "I am in great want of it just now, bailiff."

Bailiff. " Come on Monday, when you have begun with the quarry. It is pni
Aside for thee."

Joseph. "Do you suppose I shall not keep my word? "

Bailiff. "Nay, I can trust thee, Joseph."

Joseph. " Then give me three crowns of it, now. I should like to get my
•new boots, at the shoemaker's, for to-morrow ; it is my birth-day, and I dare
not ask the master for any money."

Bailiff. "I can not well give it thee now; come on Monday evening."

Joseph. " I see how you trust me. It 's one thing to promise, and another
to perform. I thought I could depend upon the money, bailiff."

Bailiff. " On my soul thou shalt have it."

Joseph. " Ay, I see how it is."

Bailiff. "It will be time enough, on Monday."

Joseph. "Bailiff! you show me, plainly enough, that you do not trust me:
and I will make bold to tell you, that I fear, if the quarry is once opened, you
will not keep yow word with me."

Bailiff. " This is too bad, Joseph ! I shall most certainly keep my word with
thee."

Joseph. "I do not believe it. If you will not give it me now; it is all over.''

Bailiff. " Canst thou not manage with two crowns? "

Joseph. "No! I must have three; but then you may depend upon having
^very thing done."

Bailiff. ""Well, I will give thee them: but thou must keep thy word."

Joseph. "If I do not, I give you leave to call me the greatest rogue ana
thief upon the earth."

The bailiff now called his wife and said: "Give Joseph three crowns."

His wife took him aside and -said: " Do not let him have them."

Bailiff. " Do as I bid thee, without a word."

Wife. " Be not so foolish ! Thou art in liquor and wilt repent to-morrow."

Bailiff. " Answer me not a word. Three crowns this moment! Dost thou
hear what I say ? "

His wife sighed, reached the money, and threw it to the bailiff. He gave it
to Joseph, and said: "Thou wilt not, surely, deceive me."

"Heaven forbid! what dost thou take me for, bailiff?" answered Joseph.
And he went away, counted over his three crowns, and said to himself: " Now

aave my reward ;n my own hands, and it is safer there than in the bailiff's

37

578 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

chest. He is an old rogue, and I will not be his fool. The master may now
take flint or blue stone for me."

The bailiff's wife cried for vexation, over the kitchen fire, and did not go again,
into the room, till past midnight.

The bailiff too, as soon as Joseph was gone, had a foreboding that he had
overreached himself, but he soon forgot it again, amongst his companions. The
riot of the drinkers lasted till after midnight.

At last the bailiff's wife came out of the kitchen, into the room, and said : " It
is time to break up now ; it is past midnight, and Easter Sunday."

"Easter Sunday!" said the fellows, stretched themselves, yawned, and got up,
one after the other.

They tottered and stumbled along, catching hold of the tables and walls, and;
went with difficulty home again.

"Go, one at once, and make no noise," said the wife, "or the pastor and hi&
people will get hold of you, and make you pay the fine."

" Nay, we had better keep our money for drinking." answered the men. And
the wife added : " If you see the watchman, tell him there is a glass of wine
and a piece of bread for him here."

They had scarcely got out of the house when the watchman appeared before
the alehouse windows, and called out :

"All good people hear my warning,
*Tis one o'clock, and a cloudy morning."

The bailiff's wife understood his call, and brought him the wine, and bade
him not to tell the pastor how late they had been up.

And now she helped her sleepy, drunken husband off with his shoes aad
stockings.

And she grumbled about Joseph's crowns, and her husband's foolishness.
But he slept and snored, and took notice of nothing. And at last they both fell,
asleep, on the holy evening before Easter.

And now, thank God, I have no more to relate about them, for some time.

[ return to Leonard and Gertrude.

What a world is this 1 A garden lies near a dog-kennel, and in the same
field an offensive dunghill and sweet nourishing grass. Yes, it is indeed a won-
derful world 1 The beautiful pasture itself, without the manure which we throw
upon it, could not produce such delicious herbage.

CHAPTER xxxi. — THE EVENING BEFORE A SABBATH IN THE HOUSE OF A GOOD

MOTHER.

GERTRUDE was »ow alone with her children. The events of the week and
the approach of the Sabbath filled her heart.

Thoughtfully and silently she prepared the supper, 'and took out of the chest
her husband's, her children's, and her own Sunday clothes, that nothing might
distract her attention in the morning. And when she had arranged every thing,
she sat down at the table with her children.

It was her custom every Saturday, when the time for evening prayer came, to
impress upon their hearts the recollection of their various failings, and of all the
events of the week which might be of consequence to them.

And this day she was particularly alive to the goodness of God toward them
throughout the week, and wished to fix it as deeply as possible upon their young
hearts, that they might never forget it.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE 579

The children sat a^o.nd her, folded their little hauds for prayer, and their
mother thus addressed tnem : —

" I have something very good to tell you, ray children ! Your dear father has
got some very good work this week, by which he will be able to earn much
more than usual ; and we may venture to hope that we shall in future have our
daily bread with less care and anxiety.

"Thank your heavenly father, my children, for his mercy to us, and do not
forget the former times, when I had to be sparing of every mouthful of bre?d.
It was often a great trouble to me, not to be able to give you enough, but God
A.1 mighty knew that he would help us in his own good time, and that it was
better for you, my darlings, to be brought up in poverty, in patience, and in the
'labit of overcoming your desires, than in abundance. It is very difficult for

iople, who have all they wish for, not to become thoughtless and forgetful of
rod, and unmindful of what is for their real good. Remember then, my chil-
Iren, as long as you live, the want and care you have undergone ; and when
vou are yourselves better off, think of those who suffer as you have suffered.
Never forget what it is to feel hunger and want, that you may be tender-hearted
to the poor, and willingly give them all you have to spare. Do you think you
shall be willing to give it to them, my children ? " "0 yes, mother, that we
shall ! " said all the children.

CHAPTER xxxn. — THE HAPPINESS OP THE HOUR OP PRAYEE.

Mother. "Nicholas, who dost thou think suffers most from hunger? "

Nicholas. " Rudeli, mother ! you were at his father's yesterday. He musv
be almost dying of hunger, for he eats grass off the ground."

Mother. "Shouldst thou like sometimes to give him thy afternoon's,
brend?"

Nick. "0 yes, mother! may L give it him to-morrow ?"

Mother. " Yes, thou mayst."

Nich. "I am glad of it."

Mother. "And thou, Lise! to whom wilt thou sometimes give thy piece?"

List.. " I can not tell, just now, whom I shall like best to give it to."

Mothe-i . " Dost thou not recollect any poor child who is very hungry ? "

Lise. " 0 yes, mother."

Mother. " Then why canst thou not tell to whom thou wilt give it? thou art
always so overwise, Lise."

Lise. " I know now, mother."

Mother. "Who is it?"

Lise. " Marx Reuti's daughter, Betheli. I saw her picking up rotten potatoes,
from the bailiff's dunghill, to-day."

Nich. " Yes, mother, and I saw her too ; and felt in all my pockets, but I had
not a mouthful of bread left. If I had only kept it a quarter of an hour
longer ! "

The mother then asked the other children the same questions, and they were
all glad in their hearts to think that they should give their bread to the poor
children to-morrow.

The mother let them enjoy this pleasure a while longer. Then she said to
them : "That is enough, children ! think how good the squire has been to make
you each a present."

"0 yes, our pretty money ! Will you show it us, now, mother? "

580 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

"By and by, iftcr prayer," said the mother; and the childre jumped about
for joy."

CHAPTER xxxra. — THE SERIOUSNESS OF THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
" You are noisr, my children," said the mother. " When any thing good hap-
pens to you, think of God, who gives us all things. If you do so, you will
never be wild and riotous in your joy. I am very glad to rejoice with you, my
darlings, but when people are wild and riotous in their joy, they, lose the serenity
and peace of their hearts ; and, without a quiet, tranquil heart, there is no true
happiness. Therefore must we keep God ever in view. This is the use of the
hour for morning and evening prayer, that you may never forget him. For who-
ever is praying to God, or thinking of him, can neither be extravagant in joy
i-or without comfort in sorrow. But then, my children, he must always endeavo"
particularly when he is praying, to keep himself quiet and untroubled. Co&
aider, whenever you thank your father for any thing sincerely, you are not noisy
and riotous. You fall softly, and with few words, on his neck ; and when you
feel it really in your hearts, the tears come into your eyes. It is the same
toward God. If his loving kindness really rejoices you, and your hearts are
truly thankful, you will not make a great noise and talking about it — but the
tears will come into your eyes, when you think how merciful he is toward you.
Wius all that fills your hearts with gratitude to God and kindness to men, is a
continual prayer; and whoever prays as he ought, will do what is right, and
arill be dear to God and man. as long as he lives."

Nicholas. "And, mother, you said, yesterday, that we should be dear to the
gracious squire, if we did what was right."

Mother. " Yes, my children, he is a good and religious gentleman. May God
reward him, for all he has done for us. I wish thou mayst become dear to him,
Nicholas!"

Nidi. " I will obey him, because he is so good, as I obey you and my
father."

Mother. "That is right, Nicholas! always think so, and thou wilt certainly
oecome dear to him."

Nich. "If I durst but speak a word to him ! "

Mother. " What wouldst thou say to him? "

Nich. " I would thank him for the pretty money."

Anneli. " Durst you thank him ? "

Nich. "Why not?"

Anndi. " I durst not."

Lise. " Nor I ! "

Mother. "Why durst you not, children?"

Lise. " I should laugh."

Mother. "Why wouldst thou laugh, Lise, and so show him, plainly, that thou
Tvert but a silly child ? If thou hadst not many foolish fancies in thy head, tfaou
vouldst never think of doing such a thing."

Anneli. "I should not laugh ; but I should be sadly frightened."

Mother. "He would take thee by the hand, Anneli, and smile upon thee, as
,hy father does when he is very kind to thee, and then thou wouldst not be
frightened any longer."

Anneli. " No, not then."

Jonas. "Nor I, then."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 53]

CHAPTER xxxiv. — A MOTHER'S INSTRUCTION.

Mother. " But, my dear children, how have you gone on, as to behavior, this
week ? "

The children looked at each other, without speaking.

Mother. "Anneli, hast thou done what was right this week? "

Anneli. " No, mother, you know I did not do right about little brother."

Mother. "Anneli, some misfortune might have happened to him. There have
been children suffocated with being left in that way. And how wouldst thou
like, thyself, to be shut up in a room, and left to hunger, and thirst, and cry
alone? Besides, little children, when they are left long without anybody to
help them, get into a passion, and scream so dreadfully, that it may do them a

'schief as long as they live. Anneli ! God knows, I could not have a moment's

oace out of the house, if I had reason to be afraid that thou wouldst not take

•oper care of the child."

Anneli. " Indeed, mother, I will not go away from him any more."

Mother. " I do trust thou wilt never put me into such a fright again. And
Nicholas, how hast thou gone on this last week ? "

Nicholas. "I don't know of any thing wrong."

Mother. "Hast thou forgotten knocking over thy little sister on Monday? "

Nich. "I did not do it on purpose, mother."

Mother. " If thou hadst done it on purpose, it would have been bad indeed.
Art thou not ashamed of talking so ? "

Nick. " I am sorry 1 did it, mother ; and will not do so again."

Motiier. " When thou art grown up, if thou takest no more heed of what is
dear thee and about thee, thou will have to learn it to thy cost. Even amongst
ooys, those who are so heedless are always getting into scrapes and disputes ;
and I am afraid, my dear Nicholas, that thy carelessness will bring thee into
great trouble and difficulties."

Nich. " I will take pains to be more thoughtful, mother."

Mother. " Do so, my dear bo}r, or, believe me, thou wilt often be very un
happy."

Nich. "My dear mother, I know it, and am sure of it, and I will certainly
.ake heed."

Mother. "And thou, Lise, how hast thou gone on? "

Lise. "I know of nothing at all this week, mother."

Mother. "Art thou sure ?"

Lise. "I can not now think of any thing, mother ; or I am sure I would
.villingly tell you of it."

Mother. "Thou hast always, even when thou knowest nothing, as many
words to utter as if thou hadst a great deal to say."

Lise. "What have I been saying now, mother?"

Mother. " Nothing at all, and yet many words. It is in this way, as we have
told thee a thousand times, that thou art foolish. Thou dost not think about
any thing thou hast to say, and yet must always be talking. What need was
there for thee to tell the bailiff, yesterday, that we knew that Arner was coming
soon?"

Lise. " I am sorry I did so, mother."

Mother. "We have so often told thee not to talk of what does not concern
iee, particularly before strangers, and yet thou dost so still. Suppose thy father

582 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

and been afraid of telling him that he knew it before, and thy prating had
brought him into trouble."

Lise. " I should have been very sorry, but neither of you had said a word
that it was to be a secret."

Mother. " Well, I will tell thy father, when he comes home, that whenever
we are talking to each other in the room, we must add, after every sentence:
'Lise may tell this to the neighbors, or at the well — but not this — nor this — but
again she may — and then thou wilt know what thou mayst chatter about.' "

Lise. "Forgive me, mother, I did not mean it so/'

Mother. " We have told thee repeatedly, that thou must not talk about what
does not concern thee ; but it is useless. We can not cure thee of this failing,
but by treating it seriously ; and the first time that I find thee again chattering
so thoughtlessly, I will punish thee with the rod."

The tears came into Lise's eyes when her mother talked of the rod. Tig
mother saw them, and said to her: " Lise. the greatest misfortunes often happen
from thoughtless chattering, and thou must be cured of this fault."

In this manner she spoke to them all, even to the little one ; " Thou must not
call out so impatiently for thy supper any more, or I shall make thee wait longer
the next time; or, perhaps, give it to one of the others."

When this was all over, the children said their usual evening prayer, and after-
ward the Saturday prayer, which Gertrude had taught them, and which was as
follows :—

CHAPTER xxxv. — A SATURDAY EVENING PRAYER.

" HEAVENLY Father ! thou art ever kind to the children of men, and thou art
<ind also to us. Thou suppliest our daily wants. All comes from thee. Our
oread, and all that we receive from our parents, thou hast first bestowed upon
them, and they willingly give it to us. They rejoice in all which thou enablest
them to do for us, and bid us be thankful unto thee for it. They tell us that if
they had not learned to know and love thee, they should not so love us ; and
that if they were unmindful of thee, they should do much less for us. They bid
us be thankful to the Saviour of men, that they have learned to know and love
thee ; and they teach us that those who do not know and love him, and follow
all the holy laws which he has given to men, can neither so well love thee, nor
bring up their children so piously and carefully as those who believe in the
Saviour. Our parents teach us many things of Jesus, the Messiah ; what great
things he did for the children of men; how he passed his life in suffering and
distress, and at last died upon the cross, that he might make men happy in time
and eternity ; how God raised him again from the dead ; and how he now sits
at the right hand of the throne of God his Father, in the glory of heaven, and
still loves all the children of men, and seeks to make them blessed and happy.
It goes to our hearts when we hear of our blessed Saviour. 0, may we learn so
to live as to obtain favor in his sight, and at last be received unto him in heaven.

"Almighty Father I we poor children, who here pray together, are brothers and
sisters ; therefore may we always love one another, and never hurt each other,
out be kind and good to each other whenever we have the opportunity. May
we carefully watch over the little ones, that our dear parents may follow their
•vork and earn their bread, without anxiety. It is all we can do, to help then-
for the trouble and care they have had on our account. Reward them, 0
heavenly Father, for all they have done for us ; and may we be obedient ta

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 5Q3

'them in all which they require from us, that they may love us to the end of
their lives, and be rewarded for all the faithful kindness they have shown us.

"0, Almighty God 1 may we, on the approaching Sabbath, be truly mindful of
all thy goodness, and of the love of Christ Jesus ; and also of all that our dear
puivnts and friends do for us, that we maybe thankful and obedient to God and
man, and walk before thee in love all the days of our lives."

Here Nicholas paused, and Gertrude added, with reference to the events of
the week : ;- We thank thee, Heavenly Father, that thou hast this week relieved
our dear parents from their anxious care for our nourishment and support, and
given unto our father a good and profitable employment. We thank thee that
our chief magistrate is, with a truly parental heart, our protector and our help
in all misfortunes and distress. We thank thee for the goodness of the lord of

•* manor. If it be thy will, may we grow up to serve and please him, who is

Tis as a father."

Then Lize repeated after her : " Forgive me, 0, my God, my besetting fault,

.d teach me to bridle my tongue ; to be silent when I ought not to speak, and
nrefully and thoughtfully to answer the questions I am asked."

And Nicholas : " Guard me in future, 0, Heavenly Father, from my hasti-
iss ; and teach me to give heed to what I am doing, and to those who are
ear me."

And Anneli : " I repent, 0 my God, that I so thoughtlessly left my little
>rother, and alarmed my dear mother. May I do so no more."

Then the mother said, further :

"Lord! hear us I

" Father, forgive us I

" Christ have mercy upon us !

Then Nicholas repeated the Lord's prayer.

And Enne added : "May God bless our dear father, and mother, and bi others,
and sisters, and our kind benefactor, and all good men."

And Lise : " In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Ghost."

Mother. "May God be with you, and keep you I May he lift up the light
of his countenance upon you, and be merciful to you for ever! "

The children and their mother remained for a time in that stillness, whicli
must always succeed a prayer from the heart.

CHAPTER xxxvi. — PURE DEVOTION AND LIFTING UP OF THE SOUL TO GOD.

LISE broke this silence: " Now will you show us our presents," said she t<;
her mother.

" Yes, I win," replied the mother. " But Lize, thou art always the first to
speak."

Nicholas jumped from his seat, rushed past his little sister, to be nearer the
light, that he might see the money, and, in so doing, pushed the child so that i*
cried out.

Then said the mother : "Nicholas, this is not right. It is not a quarter of an
hour since thou gavest thy promise to be more careful, and now thou art doing
the same thing again."

Nicholas. " 0, mother, I am very sorry. I will never do so again."

Mother. " So thou saidst just now before God, and yet thou dost it again
Thou art not in real earnest."

584 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE

Nick. " 0, indeed, mother, I am in earnest. Forgive me ! I am, indeed, ir
earnest, and very sorry."

Mother. " And so am I, Nicholas ; but thou wilt forget again if I do not
punish thee. Thou must go without supper to bed. As she spoke, she led the
boy away from the other children into his room. His sisters stood all sorrow-
fully around. They were troubled, because Nicholas might not eat with
them."

"Why will you not let me teach you by kindness alone, my children," said
.he mother.

"0, let him be with us this once," said the children.
"No, my loves, he must be cured of his carelessness," said the mother.
" Then do not let us see the presents till to-morrow, when he can look at them
with us," said Anneli.

Mother. "That is right, Anneli. Yes, he may see them with you then."
Then she gave the children their supper, and went with them into their room
where Nicholas was still weeping.

"Take care, another time, my dearest boy," said his mother to him.
Nicholas. "Only forgive me, my dear, dear mother. Only forgive me and
kiss me, and I will willingly go without supper.

Then Gertrude kissed her son, and a warm tear fell upon his cheek, as she
said to him : ': 0, Nicholas, Nicholas, be careful ! " Nicholas threw his arms
around his mother's neck and said : " My dear mother, forgive me."
Gertrude then blessed her children, and went again into her room.
She was now quite alone. A little lamp burnt faintly in the room, her heart
was devoutly still ; and the stillness was a prayer which, without words, moved
her inmost spirit. A feeling of the presence of God, and of his goodness ; a
feeling of hope of an eternal life, and of the inward happiness of the man who
puts his trust and confidence in his Almighty Father ; all this filled her soul
with deep emotion, so that she sunk upon her knees, and a flood of tears rolled
down her cheeks.

Blessed are the tears of the child, when, touched by a father's goodness, he
looks sobbing back upon the past, dries his eyes, and seeks to recover himself,
before he can stammer out the thankfulness of his heart. Blessed were the
tears of Nicholas, which he wept at this moment, because he had displeased his
good mother, who was so dear to him.

Blessed are the tears of all who weep from a pure child-like heart.
The Lord of heaven looks down upon the sobbing forth of their gratitude,
and upon the tears of their eyes, when they spring from affection.

He saw the tears of Gertrude, and heard the sobbing of her heart ; and the
offering of her thanks was an acceptable sacrifice to him ; Gertrude wept long
before the Lord her God, and her eyes were still moist when her husband
came home.

"Why dost thou weep, Gertrude? thy eyes are red and full of tears! Why
dost thou weep to-day, Gertrude ? "

Gertrude answered : " My dear husband, these are not tears of sorrow : — be
not afraid. I wished to thank God for this week, and my heart was so full that
I fell upon my knees ; I could not speak for weeping, and yet it seemed to me
as if I had never so thanked God before."

"0, my love," answered Leonard, "I wish I could so quickly lift up my soul,
and pour forth my heart in tears. It is now my firm resolution to do what if*

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 535,

right, and to be just and thankful toward God and man ; but I shall never be
able to fall upon my knees thus and shed tears."

Gertrude. " If thou art only earnestly resolved to do what is right, all the
rest is of little consequence. One has a weak voice and another a strong one,
but that signifies little. It is only the use to which they are applied, which is
of importance. My clear husband, tears are nothing, and bended knees are
nothing ; but the resolution to do justly, and be thankful toward God and man

every thing. That one man is more easily affected and another less so, is of
o more consequence than that one worm crawls through the earth more easily
ian another. If thou art only in earnest, my love, thou art sure to find him
vho is the father of all men."

Leonard, with tears in his eyes, let his head fall upon her neck, and she leaned
ler face over his, with melancholy tenderness.

They remained thus for a while, still and deeply affected, and were silent.

At last Gertrude said : "Wilt thou not eat to-night? "

"I can not,-" answered he, "my heart is too full. I can not eat any thing at
present." " Nor can I, my love," said she ; " but I '11 tell thee what we will do.
:". will take the food to poor Rudi. His mother died to-day."

CHAPTER xxxvn. — KINDNESS TOWARD A POOR MAN.

Leonard. "Is she then at last freed from her misery? "

Gertrude. "Yes, God be praised! But thou shouldst have seen her die, my
dear husband. Only think ! she found out on the day of her death that Rudeli
had stolen potatoes from us. She sent the boy and his father to me, to ask for-
giveness. She desired them earnestly to beg us, in her name, to forgive her,
oecause she could not pay back the potatoes; and poor Rudi promised so
neartily to make it up by working for thee. Think, my dear husband, how all
chis affected me. I went to the dying woman, but I can not tell thee, it is im-
possible to describe, with what a melancholy dying tone she asked me whether
I had forgiven them ; and when she saw that my heart was touched, how she
.ecommended her children to me ; how she delayed it to the last moment, and
ihen, when she found she was going, how she at last ventured, and with what
humility and love toward her children, she did it ; and how in the midst of it
she expired. 0, it is not to be told or described."

Leon. " I will go with thee to them."

Ger. " Yes, come, let us go."

So saying, she took up the broth, and they went.

When they arrived, Rudi was sitting on the bed by the corpse. He wept
and sighed, and his little boy called out from the other room, and asked him for
bread — or even raw roots — or any thing at all.

" Alas I I have nothing whatever. For God's sake, be quiet till morning. I
have nothing," said the father.

And the little fellow cried out : " But I am so hungry, father, I can not go to
sleep ! 0, I am so hungry, father ! "

Leonard and Gertrude heard this, opened the door, set down the food before
the hungry child and said to him, "Eat quickly, before it is cold."

"0, God!" exclaimed Rudi, "What is this? Rudeli, these are the people
from whom thou hast stolen potatoes ; and, alas, I myself have eaten of
f.iiem! "

Ger. "Say no more about that, Rudi."

586 LEONARD ANI) GERTRUDE.

Rudi. " I dare not look you in the face, it goes so to my heart to think what
TO did."

Leon. " Eat something, Rudi."
Ruddi. " Eat, eat ; let us eat, father."
Rudi. " Say the grace then."

Ruddi.

" May God feed,

And God speed

All the poor

On the earth's floor,

In body and soul, Amen ! "

Thus prayed the' boy, took up the spoon, trembled, wept, and ate.

"May God reward you for it a thousand fold," said the father; and he ate
^so, and tears fell down his cheeks.

But they did not eat it all, but set aside a plate full for the children who were
asleep. Then Rudeli gave thanks.

'•When we have fed,
Let 's thank the Lord,
Who nil our bread
Doth still afford.

To him be praise, honor, and thanksgiving,
Now and forever, Amen."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

RAFTER XXXVIII. — THE PURE AND PEACEFUL GREATNESS OF A BENEVOLENT

HEART.

As Rudi was about to thank them again, he sighed involuntarily.

Dost thou want something, Rudi ? If it is any thing wo can do for thee,
• .1 us," said Leonard to him.

"No, I want nothing more, I thank you," answered Rudi.

But he evidently repressed a deep sigh, which struggled to escape from his
iart. Leonard and Gertrude looked at him with sorrowful sympathy, and said :
But thou sighest, and we see that thy heart is troubled about something."

"Tell them, tell them, father," said the boy, "they are so kind."

" Do tell us, if we can help thee," said Leonard and Gertrude.

" Dare I venture ? " answered the poor man. " I have neither shoes nor
stockings, and to-morrow I must follow my mother to her grave, and the day
after go to the hall."

Leonard. "To think that thou shouldst fret thyself thus about it! Why
iidst thou not tell me directly? I can and will willingly give thee them."

Rudi. "And wilt thou believe, after what has happened, that I will return
them safe and with thanks? "

Leon. "Say nothing of that, Rudi. I would trust thee for more than that;
but thy misery and want have made thee too fearful."

Gertrude. " Yes, Rudi, trust in God and man, and thou wilt be easier in thy
heart, and better able to help thyself in all situations."

Rudi. "Yes, Gertrude, I ought to have more trust in my father in heaven;
i»ud I can never sufficiently thank you."

Leon. " Say nothing of that, Rudi."

Ger. " I should like to see thy mother again."

They went with a feeble lamp to her bedside ; and Gertrude, Leonard, Rudi,
and the little one, all with tears in their eyes, looked at her awhile, in the deep-
est silence; then they covered her up again, and kindly took leave of each
•other, almost without words.

As they went home, Leonard said to Gertrude: "What a dreadful state of
wretchedness this is 1 Not to be able to go any longer to church, nor to ask for
work, nor return thanks for it, because a man has neither clothes, nor shoes,
-nor stockings."

Ger. " If he were suffering it from any fault of his own, it would almost
>drive him to despair."

Leon. "Yes, Gertrude, he would despair, he certainly would despair, Ger-
trude. If I were to hear my children cry out in that way for bread, and had
none, and it was my own fault, Gertrude, I should despair ; and I was on the
road to this wretchedness."

Ger. " We have indeed been saved out of great danger."

As they thus spoke, they passed near the tavern, and the unmeaning riot of
drinking and talking reached their ears. Leonard's heart beat at a distance, but.

588 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

as he drew near, he shuddered with painful horror. Gertrude looked at him,
tenderly and sorrowfully, and Leonard, ashamed, answered the mournful look of
his Gertrude and said: "0 what a blessed evening have 1 spent with thee!
and if I had been here instead ! "

Gertrude's sadness now increased to tears, and she raised her eyes to heaven.
He saw it. Tears stood also in his eyes, and the same sadness was upon his
countenance. He, too, raised his eyes to heaven, and both gazed for a time
upon the beautiful sky. They looked with admiration upon the silvery bright-
ness of the moon; and a rapturous inward satisfaction assured them that the
pure and innocent feelings of their hearts were acceptable in the sight of God.

After this short delay, they went into their cottage.

Gertrude immediately sought out shoes and stockings for Rudi, and Leonard
took them to him that evening.

When he came back, they said a preparation prayer for the sacrament of the
next day, and fell asleep with devout thankfulness.

In the morning they arose early, and rejoiced in the Lord; read the history
of the Saviour's sufferings, and of the institution of the holy supper; and.
praised God in the early hours, before the Sabbath sun arose.

Then they awoke their children, waited for them to say their morning prayer,,
and then went to church.

A quarter of an hour before service-time, the bailiff also arose. He could not
find the key of his clothes-chest ; uttered dreadful curses ; kicked the chest open
with his foot ; dressed himself; went to church ; placed himself in the first seat
in the choir; held his hat before his mouth; and looked into every corner of the
church, whilst he repeated his prayer under his hat.

Soon afterward the pastor entered. Then the people sang two verses of the
hymn for Passion week: " 0 man, repent thy heavy sins," and so on.

Then the pastor went into the pulpit ; and this day he preached and instructed,
his people as follows: —

CHAPTER xxxix. — A SERMON.

" MY children !

"He who fears the Lord, and walks piously and uprightly before him, walks
in light.

"But he who in all his doings is forgetful of his God, walks in darkness.

" Therefore be ye not deceived, one only is good, and he is your Father.

" Wherefore do you run astray, and grope about in darkness? No one is your-
Father but God.

" Beware of men, lest ye learn from them what will be displeasing in the-
sight of your Father in heaven.

"Happy is the man who has God for his Father.

"Happy is the man who fears wickedness and hates deceitfulness: for tl ey
who commit wickedness shall not prosper, and the deceitful man is taken in liis^
own snare.

"The man shall not prosper, who oppresses and injures his neighbor.

"The man shall not prosper, against whom the cry of the poor man rises-
toward God.

"Woe to the wretch who in the winter feeds the poor, and in the harvest
takes from him double.

"Woe to the godless man who causes the poor to drink wine in the summer,
and in the autumn requires from him double.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 589

"Woe to him, when he takes away from the poor man his straw and his fodder,
-so that he can not til] his ground.

"Woe to him, by the hardness of whose heart the children of the poor want
bread.

" Woe to the godless man, who lends money to the poor that they may become
his servants, be at his command, work without wages, and yet pay rent.

"Woe to him, when they give false testimony for him before the judge, and
swear false oaths that his cause is just.

"Woe to him, when he assembles sinners in his house, and watches with
them to betray the just man, that he may become as one of them, and forget his
God, his wife, and his children, and waste, with them, the wages of his labor
upon which his wife and children depend.

"And woe to the miserable man, who suffers himself to be led astray by the
ungodly, and, in his thoughtlessness, squanders the money which is wanted at
home.

" Woe to him, when the sighs of his wife arise to God, because she has no
food for her infant.

"Woe to him, when his child starves, that he may drink.

•'Woe to him, when she weeps over the wants of her children, and her own
excessive labor.

" Woe to him, who wastes the apprentice-fee of his sons ; when his old age
comes, they will say unto him, ' Thou didst not behave as a father to us, thou
didst not teach us to earn bread, how can we now help thee? '

"Woe to those, who go about telling lies, and make the crooked straight, and
the straight crooked : for they shall come to shame.

" Woe to you, when ye have bought the land of the widow, and the house
kof the orphan, at an unfair price. Woe to you, for this is your Lord ; father of
he widow and of the orphan, and they are dear to him ; and ye are a hatred and
n abomination in his sight, because ye are cruel and hard to the poor.

"Woe to you, whose houses are full of what does not belong to you.

" Though you riot in wine which came from the poor man's vines:

" Though you laugh, when starved and miserable men shake their corn into
our sacks with sighs :

"Though you sneer and jest when the oppressed man writhes like a worm
'before you, and entreats you, in God's name, to lend him a tenth part of what
you have cheated him of; though you harden yourselves against all this, yet
'have you never an hour's peace in your hearts.

"No! there lives not the man upon God's earth, who oppresses the poor and
is happy.

" Though he be raised out of all danger, out of all fear of iniquity or punish-
ment, on this earth ; though he be a ruler in the land, and imprison with his
'hand, and accuse with his tongue, miserable men who are better than
himself:

" Though he sit aloft, and judge them to life or death, and sentence them to
the sword, or the wheel :

" He is more miserable than they!

" He who oppresses the poor man from pride, and lays snares for the unfortu-
nate, and swears away widows' houses ; he is worse than the thief and the
•murderer, whose reward is death

590 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

u Therefore, has the man who does these things no peaceful hour, throughout
his life.

" He wanders ou the face of the earth laden with the curse of a brother's-
murder, which leaves no rest for his heart.

" He wanders around, and seeks, and tries continually to conceal from himself
the horror of his inward thoughts.

" With eating and drinking, with insolence and malice, with hatred and strife,
Tith lies and deceit, with buffoonery and licentiousness, with slander and abuse,
with quarreling and backbiting, he seeks to get through the time which is a
ourthen to him.

"But he will not always be able to suppress the voice of his conscience; ho
will not always be able to escape the fear of the Lord ; it will fall upon him like
- armed man, and you will see him tremble and be dismayed, like a prisoner
*"hom death threatens.

"But happy is the man who has no part in such doings.

" Happy is the man who is not answerable for the poverty of his neighbor.

"Happy is the man who has nothing in his possession which he has forced
irom the poor.

" Happy are you, when your mouth is pure from harsh words, and your eyes
1'om harsh looks.

"Happy are you, when the poor man blesses you, and when the widow and
the orphan weep tears of gratitude to God for you.

" Happy is the man who walks in love before his God, and before his people.

" Happy are you who are pious ; come and rejoice at the table of the God of
»ove.

" The Lord your God is your Father.

" The signs of love from his hands will refresh your spirits, and the blessed-
ness of your souls will increase, because your love toward God your Father, and
toward your brethren of mankind, will increase and strengthen.

" But ye who walk without love, and in your deeds consider not that God is
jour Father, and that your neighbors are the children of your God, and that
vhe poor man is your brother ; ye ungodly, what do ye here ? ye, who to-morrow
will injure and oppress the poor as ye did yesterday, what do ye here? Will ye
eat of the bread of the Lord, and drink of his cup, and say that ye are one in
body, and mind, and soul, with your brethren ?

" Leave this house, and avoid the meal of love.

"And ye poor and oppressed ones of my people, believe and trust in the Lord,
and the fruit of your affliction and suffering will become a blessing to you.

" Believe and trust in the Lord your God, and fear not the ungodty ; but keep-
yourselves from them. Rather suffer, rather endure any want, rather bear any
injury, than seek help from their hard-heartedness. For the words of the hard
man are lies, and his help is a decoy by which he seeks to entrap the poor man and
destroy him. Therefore flee from the ungodly man when he salutes you witli
smiles, when he gives you his hand, and takes yours with friendliness. When
he offers you his assistance, then flee from him : for the ungodly man insnares
the poor. Avoid him, and join not yourselves with him ; but fear him not : —
though you see him standing fast and great, like a lofty oak, fear him not 1

" Go, my children, into the forest, to the place where the lofty oaks stand, and
see how the little trees, which withered under their shade, now being removed
from them, flourish and bloom. The sun shines again upon the young plants.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 5QJ

the dew of heaven falls upon them in its strength, and the great spreading root
of the oaks, which sucked up all the nourishment from the ground, now decay
and nourish the young trees which withered in the shade.

"Therefore hope in the Lord, for his help never fails those who hope in him.

"The day of the Lord will come to the ungodly man ; and on that day, whe
he shall see the oppressed and the poor man, he will cry out and say: ' 0, tha
I had been as one of these!'

"Therefore trust in the Lord, ye who are troubled and oppressed, and rejoict
,iat ye know the Lord, who has appointed the supper of love.

" For through love ye bear the sufferings of this earth, even as a treasure fron
ie Lord ; and your burthens only increase your strength and your blessed

5SS.

" Therefore rejoice that ye know the God of love ; for without love ye woulc

ik and become as the ungodly, who torment and betray you.

"Praise the God of love, that he has appointed this sacrament, and has callec
ou, amongst his millions, to partake in his holy mysteries.

" Praise ye the Lord !

" The revelation of love is the salvation of the world.

"Love is the band which binds the earth together.

" Love is the band which unites God and man.

"Without love, man is without God; and without God and love, what L
nan?

"Dare ye say? can ye utter or think what man is without God, and withot
ove?

"I dare not; I can not express it — man, without God and without love, is n
.onger a man, but a brute.

A Therefore rejoice that ye know the God of love, who has called the world
rom brutishness to love, from darkness to light, and from death to eternal life.
"Rejoice that ye know Jesus Christ, and through faith in him are called to be
children of God, and to eternal life.

"And yet once more I say unto you, rejoice that ye know the Lord ; and pray
for all those who do not know him ; that they may come to the knowledge of
the truth and of your joy.

" My children, come to the holy supper of your Lord. Amen."

"When the pastor had said this, and instructed his congregation for nearly an
hour, he prayed with them, and then the whole congregation partook of the
Lord's supper.

The bailiff, Hummel, assisted in distributing the Lord's supper- and when all
the people had given thanks unto the Lord, they sang a hymn, and the pastor
blessed his people, and every one returned to his own house.

CHAPTER XL.— A PROOF THAT THE SERMON WAS GOOD; Item, ON KNOWLEDGE

AND ERROR, AND WHAT IS CALLED OPPRESSING THE POOR.

THE bailiff, Hummel, was furious at the discourse which the pastor had deliv-
ered about the ungodly man ; and on the Lord's day, which the whole parish
kept holy, he raged, and swore, and abused the pastor, and said many violent
'hings against him.

As soon as he got home from the sacrament, he sent for his dissolute compan-
is to come to him directly. They soon arrived, and joined the bailiff in say-
g many shameful and abusive things of the pastor and his Christian discourse

092 LEONARD AND GERTRUDF,

The bailiff began first : " I can not endure his damned taunts and attacks."

" It is not right, it is a sin, and particularly on the Sabbath day, it is a sin to
do so." sai'? oiH * " "

Baiftff. • luw rascal knows very well that I can not endure it, and he only
goes on so much the more. It will be a fine thing for him, if he can bring the
people, by his preaching and his abuse, to hate and despise what he does not
understand, and has nothing to do with."

Abi. " Ay, indeed ! our blessed Saviour, and the evangelists, and the apos-
tles in the New T-^-TV-^ never attacked any body."

Christian. " T^o- **~.vt not say that. They did attack people, and still more
'ban the pastor doe°."

Abi. " It is not tr"» -^ »tian."

Chris. " Thou art a ^J Ibi. Ye blind guides, ye serpents. — ye generation
)f vipers, and a thousajri %-?jh. Thou knowest a great deal about the Bible,
Abi."

Countryman, " Yes, Abi ! they certainly did attack people."

Chris. " They did. But as for affairs of law, which they did not understand,
and reckonings which had been settled before the judges according to law, they
did not meddle with them, and those who do are very different kind of people."

Count. " Yes, that they are."

Chris. " They must be very different, or people would not be so bold. Only
Jiink what they did. There was one Annas — yes, Annas was his name — and
iris wife after him, only for telling one lie, they fell down and died."

Count. " Die they indeed ? For only one lie ? "

Chris. " Yes, as true as I am alive, and standing here."

Abi. "It's a fine thing, too, to know one's Bible."

Chris. " I have to thank my father, who is dead and buried for it. For the
rest he was, God forgive him, no great things. He ran through all my mother's
property to the last farthing, — but I could have got over that, if he had not
leagued himself so much with Uli, who was hanged. Such a thing as that in-
jures children and children's children. But he could read his Bible as well as
any pastor, and made us all learn too. He would not excuse one of us."

Abi. " I have often wondered how he could be so good-for-nothing, when
he knew so much."

Count. " It is very strange."

Jost. (A stranger, who happened to be in the tavern.) '• I can not help
laughing, neighbors, at your wonder about it. If much knowledge could make
people good, your attorneys, and brokers, and bailiffs, and magistrates, with re-
spect be it spoken, would be always the best."

Count. " Ay, and so they would, neighbor."

Jost. "Depend upon it, there is a wide difference between knowing and
doing. He who is for carrying on his business by knowledge alone, had need
take care lest he forget how to act."

Count. " Yes, so it is. A man soon forgets what he does not practice."

Jost. " Of course. When a man is in habits of idleness, he is good for
nothing. And so it is with those who, from idleness and weariness, get to chat-
tering and talking. They become good for nothing. Only attend, and you will
find that the greatest part of those fellows who have stories out of the Bible,
~>r the newspapers, and new and old pamphlets, constantly In their hands and

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 593

are little better than mere idlers. If one watts to talk with then-
aoout housekeeping, bringing up children, profit, or busir ess, when they should
give one advice how to set about this thing or that, which is of real use, they
Stand there like Blockheads, and know nothing, and can tell nothing. Only
where people moet, for idleness, in taverns, and at dances, and gossipings OP Sun-
days and holidays ; there they show off. They tell or quack cures, ana foolish
stories and tales, in which there is not a word of truth ; and yet a whole room
i 'ill of honest folks will sit listening for hours to such a prating fellow, who tells
*' ^rr» one lie after another."

>6t, "By my soul, it is as he says ! and, Christian, he has drawn thy father
to e Inv Just so we went on with him. He was as stupid as an ox about
3very thing lelath.g to wood and fields, cattle, fodder, ploughing, and such like;
and knew no more about his own business than a sheep. But in the tavern, and
•at parish meetings, and in the churchyard, after service, he spoke like a wise
man from the East. Sometimes of Doctor Faustus, sometimes of our Saviour,
sometimes of the Witch of Endor, or of the one of Hirzau, and sometimes of
bull-fights at Maestricht, or of horse-races at London. Stupidly as he did it, and
evident as it was that he was telling them lies, people went on willingly listen-
ing to him, till he was near being hanged, which did at last hurt his credit as a
story-teller."

Jost. " It was high time."

Abi. "Yes, we were fools long enough; and gave him many a glass of wine
for pure lies."

Jost. " To my mind it would have been better for him if you had never given
him any."

Abi. " Indeed, I believe if we had never given him any, he would not have
•come so near the gallows. He would have been obliged to work."

Jost. " So you see your good will toward him did him an injury."

Count. " Yes, that it did."

Jost. " It is a wicked and ruinous thing to drag the Bible into such idle teh-
ing- and hearing of profane stories."

Leupi. " My father once beat me soundly for forgetting, over one of these
stories, (I think it was out of the Bible,) to fetch the cow from the pasture."

Jost. " He was in the right. To do what is in the Bible is our business, and
to tell us about it is the pastor's. The Bible is a command, a law ; what would
the governor say to thee, if he had sent a command down to the village that we
were to cart something to the castle, and thou, instead of going into the wood
to get thy load, wert to seat thyself in the tavern, take up the order in thy
hand, read it aloud, and, whilst thou wert sitting over thy glass, explain to thy
neighbors what he meant and wished for ? "

Abi. "What would he say to me? He would abuse me, and laugh at mo
»iml throw me into prison for taking him for a fool."

Jost "And just so much do the people deserve, who read the Bible from mere
idleness, and that they may be able to tell stories out of it at the tavern."

Chris. " Yes, but yet we must read in it, to know how to keep in the right
way."

Jost. " Of course. But those who are always stopping at every resting-place,
ead standing still to talk at every well, and finger-post, and cross, which is put
down to show the way, are not those who will get on the fastest ? "

Abi. "But how is this neighbor? They say one can not pay too dear for

38

594 LEONARD AND GERTRIJDL.

knowledge; but it seems to me one may easily pay too dear for knowledge of
many things."

Jost. " Yes, indeed ! We always pay too dear for every thing which keep?
us away from active duties and business of importance. "We should seek to
gain information that we may know how to act, and if people try to know many
things, merely for the sake of talking about them, they will certainly avail them
nothing.

"It is, with respect to knowledge and performance, as it is in a trade. A shoe-
maker, for instance, must work, that is the first thing; he must also be able to
judge of leather and know how to buy it ; this is the means by which he can
carry on his trade to advantage ; and so it is in every thing else. Execution
and practice are the chief things for all men ; knowledge and understanding are
the means by which they can carry on their business to advantage.

" But for this purpose the knowledge of every man should relate to what he has
to do and perform, or in other words to his chief business."

Abi. "Now I begin to see how it is. "When a man has his head full of vari-
ous and foreign affairs, he does not give his mind to his own business, and to
what is of the most importance to him."

Jost. " Just so. The thoughts and understanding of every man should be
intent upon the things which are of the greatest consequence to him. I have no
meadows to be cultivated by irrigation, therefore it is nothing to me how people
manage to overflow them ; and, till I have a wood of my own, I shall certainly
take no pains to know how it may be best taken care of. But my reservoirs
for manure are often in my thoughts, because they make my poor meadows rich.
Every thing would prosper, if every body were properly attentive to his own
affair. People get plenty of knowledge, soon enough, if they only learn to
know things well; but they never learn to know them well, if they do not begin
by knowing, and looking after what belongs to them. Knowledge rises by de-
grees from the lowest thing to the highest, and we shall make great progress in
our lives, if we begin thus ; but from idle talking, and stories, and foolish dreams
of things in the clouds, or in the moon, people learn only to become good for
nothing."

Abi. "They begin to learn that, even at school."

During the whole of this conversation, the bailiff stood by the fire, stared into
it, warmed himself, scarcely listened to any thing, and joined seldom, and with-
out any connection, in what they were saying. He forgot the wine in his ab-
straction, and therefore it was that the conversation between Abi and the
stranger had lasted so long. Perhaps, too, he was not willing to express hia
vexation till the stranger had finished his glass and left them.

Then at last he began all at once, as if, during his long silence, he had been
learning it off by heart.

" The pastor is always talking about oppressing the poor. If wha't he calls op-
pressing the poor were done by nobody, the devil take me if there would be any
poor in the world. But when I look around me, from the prince to the night-
watchman, from the first council in the land to the lowest parish meeting, every
one seeks his own profit, and presses against whatever comes in his way. The
late pastor sold wine, as I do, and took hay, and corn, and oats, in payment for
it, as much as I do. Throughout the world every one oppresses his inferiors,
and I am obliged to submit to oppression in my turn. "Whoever has any thing,
or wishes to have any thing, must oppress, or he will lose what is his own. and

I, DON ARO AND GERTRUDE. 595

Become a beggar. If the pastor knew the poor as well as I do, ho would not
trouble himself so much about them ; but it is not for the sake of the poor. All
le wants is to find fault, and lead the people to judge one another wrongfully.
The poor are a good-for-nothing set : if I wanted ten rogues I could soon find
eleven amongst the poor. I wish people would bring me my income regularly
home every quarter-day, I would soon learn to receive it piously and devoutly.
But in my business, in a tavern and in poor cottages, where every farthing must
be forced out. and one is plagued at every turn, it is a very different thing. I
would lay a wager that any landlord, who would act considerately and com-
passionately toward day-laborers and poor people, would soon lose all he had.
They are rogues every one."

Thus spoke the bailiff, and perverted the voice of his conscience, which made
him uneasy, and told him that the pastor was right, and that he was the man
who oppressed all the poor of the village, even until the blood started under
their nails.

But, however he reasoned to himself, he was not at rest. Anxiety and care
visibly tormented him. He paced uneasily up and down the room.

At last he said: "I am so angry about the pastor's sermon, that I know not
what to do, and I am not well. Are you cold, neighbors ? I have been as cold
as ice, ever since I came home."

"No," answered the neighbors, "it is not cold; but everybody saw at
church that thou wert not well, thou wert so deadly pale."

Bailiff. "Did every body see it at church? I was indeed strangely ill I — I
am very feverish — and so faint — I must drink something. We will go into the-
back room, during service-tune."

CHAPTER XLI. — A CHURCHWARDEN INFORMS THE PASTOR OF IMPROPER CONDUCT..

BUT a churchwarden, who lived in the same street with the bailiff, and had
seen Abi, Christian, and the other fellows go into the tavern, between the ser-
vices, was angry in his heart, and thought at that moment of the oath ne had
taken to look after all improper and profane conduct, and to inform the pastor
of it. And the churchwarden set a man, he could depend upon, to watch the
fellows, and see whether they went out of the tavern again before service.

It was now nearly time for the bell to ring, and, as nobody came out, he went
to the pastor, and told him what he had seen, and that he had set Samuel Treu
to watch them.

The pastor was troubled by this intelligence, sighed to himself, and said
little.

The churchwarden thought he was studying his sermon, and spoke less than
usual over his glass of wine.

At last, as the pastor was preparing to go into the church, Samuel came ma
the churchwarden said to him :

" Thou canst tell the honorable Herr Pastor, thyself, all about it."

Then Samuel said : " May heaven bless you, honorable Herr Pastor, sir."

The pastor thanked him, and said : "Are these people not gone home yet " "

Samuel. "No, sir! I have kept in sight of the tavern ever since the elder
.old me to watch, and nobody has left the house, except the bailiff's wife, wno
s gone to church."

Pastor. "And thou art quite certain that they are all still in the tavern • l

Sam. "Yes, sir, I am sure of it."

596 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Churchwarden. "Your reverence sees that I was not mistakei and that n
was my duty to let you know of it."

Pastor. " It is a great pity that such things should take up any one's time
and thoughts on a Sabbath day."

Churchwarden. "We have only done what was our duty, please your rev-
erence."

Pastor. " I know it, and I thank you for your watchfulness. But, neighbors,
take care that, for the sake of a trifling duty, you do not forget one of more dif-
ficulty and importance. To watch over ourselves, and over our own hearts, is
our first and most important duty. Therefore it is always unfortunate when
such evil deeds distract a man's thoughts."

After a while, he added: '"No! such shameful disorder must no longer be
endured — forbearance only increases it."

And he then went with the men into the church.

CHAPTER XLH. — AN ADDITION TO THE MORNING'S DISCOURSE.

As he was reading the account of our Saviour's sufferings, he came to these
words: —

"And when Judas had taken the sop, Satan entered into his heart."

And he discoursed to his people upon the whole history of the traitor ; and
his feelings were so strongly excited, that he struck the cushion, vehemently,
with his hand, which he had not done for years before.

And he said that all those who, as soon as they went out from the Lord's sup-
per, ran off to drinking and gaming, were not a jot better than Judas, and would
come to the same end.

And the congregation began to wonder, and consider, what could be the
meaning of this great indignation of the pastor.

People began to lay their heads together ; and a murmur went round that the
bailiff had his house full of his associates.

And all the people began to turn their eyes toward his empty seat, and toward
his wife.

She observed it — trembled — cast down her eyes — durst not look any body in
the face ; and, as soon as the singing began, made her way out of the church.

When she did that, the excitement grew still greater, and some pointed at her
with their fingers ; some women even stood up on the furthest benches on the
women's side to see her, and there was so mucli disturbance that the singing
went wrong.

CHAPTER XLIII. — THE COUNTRYMEN IN THE TAVERN ARE DISTURBED.
SHE ran home as fast as she could ; and, when she entered the room, she threw

he prayer-book, in a rage, amongst the glasses and jugs, and burst into a violent

fit of crying.

The bailiff, and the neighbors, inquired what was the matter

Wife. " I '11 soon let you know that. It 's a shame for you to be drinking here

*r. the Sabbath day."

BtiUiff. "Is that all? Then there is not much amiss."
Men. "And it is the first time it ever made you cry."
Bailiff. ''I thought, to be sure, thou hadst lost thy purse, at the least."
Wife. " Don't be talking thy nonsense now. If thou hadst been at churck,

thou wouldst not be so ready with it.''

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 597

Bailiff. " What is the matter then ? Do n't make such a blubbering, but tell
.s."

\\'iff. " The pastor must ha\e got to know that these fellows of thine were
drinking here during service-time."

Bailiff. " That would be a cursed business, indeed."
HV/r. " He knows it, to a certainty."

Bailiff. " What Satan could tell him of it just now ? "

Wife. " What Satan, thou simpleton ? They come here smoking their pipes
along the street, instead of by the ba^k way ; and s.o pass close by the elder's
house. It is impossible to tell thee in what a way the pastor has been talking,
and all the people have been pointing at me with their lingers."

Bailiff". " This is a damned trick that some Satan has been playing me."

Wife. " Why must you come just to-day, you drunken hounds? — you knew
wftll enough that it was not right."

Men. " It is not our fault. He sent for us."

Wife. "Did he?"

Men. " Ay, that he did."

Bailiff. " I was in such a strange way, I could not bear to be alone."

Wife. " Well, it is no matter how it was. But, neighbors, go, as quickly as
you can, through the back door, home ; and take care that the people, as they
come out of the church, may find every one of you at his own door — and so you
may put a cloak over the thing. They have not yet quite finished the hymn,
but go directly. It is high time."

Bailiff. " Yes ; away with you. It is well advised."

The men went, and the bailiff's wife told him that the pastor had preached
about Judas, how the devil had entered into his heart, how he had hanged him-
self;— and how those who went from the Lord's supper to drink and game would
Dome to a like end."

"He was so earnest," said the woman, " that he struck the cushion with his
fist, and I turned quite sick and faint."

The bailiff was so much terrified by this account that it struck him dumb,
and he could not utter a word ; and heavy groans escaped from the proud man,
who had not been heard to utter such for years.

His wife asked him, repeatedly, why he groaned in such a manner?

He answered her not a word ; but more than once he muttered to himself:
" What is to be the end of this? what will become of me? "

He paced up and down the room in this way for a long time, and at last said
lo his wife : " Get me a cooling powder from the barber's ; my blood is in a fever,
and oppresses me. I will be bled to-morrow, if the medicine does not remove
it."

His wife fetched him the powder ; he took it, and, after a while, became
easier. •

CHAPTER XLIV. — DESCRIPTION OF A WICKED MAN'S FEELINGS DURING THE
SACRAMENT.

THEN he told his wife how in the morning he had gone with right feelings to
church, and in the beginning of the service nad prayed to God to forgive his
Bins ; but that the pastor's discourse haa driven him mad, he had not had one
good thought since, and dreadful and horrible things had occurred to him during
.he sacrament. " From the beg'aning to the end," said he to his wife, " I could

598 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

not utter a single prayer. My heart was like a stone ; and when the pastor gave
me tho bread, he looked at me in a way I can not describe. No, it is impossible
to give an idea of it ; but I shall never forget it. When a judge condemns a
poor sinner to the wheel, or the flames, and breaks his rod of office over him, he
does not look at him in such a way. I can never forget how he looked at rne.
A cold sweat ran down my face ; and my hands trembled as I took the bread
from him.

"And when I had eaten it, a furious, horrible rage against the pastor took pos-
session of me, so that I gnashed with my teeth, and durst not look round me.

" Wife ! one dreadful idea after another came into my mind, and terrified me
like a thunderbolt ; but I could not get rid of them.

"I shuddered at the altar, so that I could not hold the cup fast; and then
•came Joseph, with his torn boots, and threw down his rogue's eyes when he saw
me. And my three crowns 1 — 0, how I shuddered at the thought of my three
crowns.

"Then came Gertrude, who raised her eyes to heaven, and then fixed them
on the cup, as if she had not seen me, as if I had not been there. She hates
me, and curses me, and wishes to ruin me ; and yet she could behave as if she
did not see me, as if I had not been there.

" Then came the mason, and looked so sorrowfully at me, as if he would have
said, from the bottom of his heart : ' Forgive me. bailiff.' He, who would bring
me to the gallows, if he could.

"Then came Shaben Michel, as pale and frightened as myself, and trembling
as much. Think, wife, what a state all this put me into.

" I was afraid Hans Wust would be coming too ; I could not have stood that —
the cup would certainly have fallen out of my hand, and I should have dropped
upon the ground. As it was, I could scarcely keep upon my feet ; and, when I
got back to my seat, all my limbs shook, so that when they were singing I
could not hold the book.

"And all the time I kept thinking — 'Arner, Arner is at the bottom of all
this! ' and anger, fury, and revenge raged in my heart the whole time. A thing
I had never thought of in my life came into my head during the sacrament. I
dare scarcely tell thee what it was. I am frightened when I only think of it.
It came into my head to throw his great landmark, on the hill, down the preci-
pice. Nobody knows of the landmark but myself."

CHAPTER XLV. — THE BAILIFF'S WIFE TELLS HER HUSBAND SOUK WEIGHTY
TRUTHS. BUT MANY TEARS TOO LATE.

THE bailiff's speech alarmed his wife, but she knew not what to say, and was
silent whilst he spoke.

Neither of them said any thing more for some time. At last the wife began,
and said to him: "I am very uneasy on account of what thwu hast been saying.
Thou must give up these companions of thine. This business can not end well,
and we are growing old."

Bailiff. " Thou art right enough there. But it is not so easy to do it."

Wife. " Easy or not, it must be done. Thou must get rid of them."

Bailiff. " Thou knowest well enough how I am tied to them, and what they
know about me."

Wife. " Thou knowest still more about them. They are a parcel of rogues,
and dare not peach. Thou must get rid of them."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 599

The bailiff groaned, and his wife continued: —

il They sit eating and drinking here constantly, and pay thee nothing ; and
when thou art intoxicated they can persuade thee to any thing. Only think
•how Joseph tricked thee last night. I wanted to advise thee for thy good, and
pretty treatment I got for my pains. And, moreover, since yesterday two
crowns more have walked out of thy waistcoat pocket, without being so much
as set down. How long can this last? If thou wilt only reckon up how
much thou hast spent over thy misdeeds, thou wilt find that thou hast lost by
them every way. And yet thou goest on still with these people ; and many a
time and oft it is for the sake of nothing in the world but thy godless pride.
Sometimes thou wilt have one of these hounds to say something for thee, and
then another must hold his tongue for thee ; and so they come and eat and drink
at vhy cost, and, for their gratitude, they are ready at the first turn to rain and
betray thee.

" Formerly, indeed, when they feared thee like a drawn sword, thou couldst
keep these fellows in order ; but now thou art their master no longer, and depend
upon it, thou art a lost man in thy old age, if thou dost not look sharply after
them. We are in as slippery a situation as can well be. The moment thou
turnest thy back, the lads begin laughing and talking, and will not do a stroke
of work, nor any thing but drink." So said the wife.

The bailiff answered her not a word, but sat staring at her, without speaking,
whilst she spoke. At last he got up, and went into the garden, and from the
garden into his meadow, and then into the stables. Trouble and anxiety fol-
lowed him every where ; but he stood still for a while in the stables, and rea-
soned thus with himself: —

CHAPTER XLVI. — SOLILOQUY OP A MAN WHOSE THOUGHTS UNHAPPILY LEAD
HIM TOO PAR.

"WHAT my wife says is but too true; but what can I do? I can not help
it it is impossible for me to escape out of this net." So said the bailiff, and
again cursed Arner, as if he had been the cause of his getting into all these dif-
ficulties ; and then abused the pastor for driving him mad at church. Then he
recurred again to the landmark, and said: "I will not touch the cursed stone;
but if any one did remove it the squire would lose the third part of his wood.
It is clear enough, that the eighth and ninth government landmark would cut
through his property in a straight line. But heaven forbid that I should remove
a landmark ! "

Then he began again : " Suppose after all it should be no true landmark. It
lies there, as if it had been since the flood, and has neither a letter nor a figure
upon it."

Then he went again into the house, took down his account book — added it
up — wrote in it — blotted it — separated his papers, and laid them back again —
forgot what he had read — looked up again what he had written — then put the
book into the chest — walked up and down the room, and kept thinking and
talking to himself of " a landmark without a letter or a figure upon it. There
is not such another to be found any where ! What an idea is come into my
head! Some ancestor of the family may have made an inroad into the govern-
ment wood, and suppose this stone were of his placing ! By G , it must be

so! It is the most unaccountable bend in the whole government boundary.
For six miles it goes in a straight line till it comes here, and the stone has no
mark upon it, and there is no trench of separation.

300 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

" If the wood really belongs to the government, I should be doing nothing
wrong. It would be only my duty to the government. But if I should be mis-
taken ! No, I will not touch the stone. I should have to dig it up and to roll
it, on some dark night, to the distance of a stone's throw over the level part to
the precipice; and it is a great weight. It will not fall down like a stream of
water. By day every stroke of the mattock would be heard, it is so near the
highway ; and at night — I dare not venture. 1 should start at every sound. If
a badger came by, or a deer sprang up, I could not go on with the work. And
who knows whether really a goblin might not catch me while I was doing it ?
It is not safe around the landmark in the night ; I had better let it alone ! "

After a while he began again: "To think that there are so many folks who
do n't believe either in hell or in spirits ! The old attorney did not believe a
word of them, nor did the pastor's assistant. By heaven, it is impossible that
he could believe in any thing. And the attorney has told me plainly, a hundred
times, that, when I was once dead, it would be all the same with me as with my
dog or horse. This was his belief, and he was afraid of nothing, and did what
he would. Suppose he were to prove right ! If I could believe it, if I could
hope it, if I could be assured in my heart that it was so, the first time Arner went
out to hunt, I would hide myself behind a tree and shoot him dead. I would
burn the pastor's house — but it is to no purpose talking. I can not believe it ;
I dare not hope it. It is not true ; and they are fools, mistaken fools, who think
so! There must be a God! There certainly must be a God! Landmark!
Landmark ! I will not remove thee ! "

So sa3ring the man trembled, but could not drive the thought out of his head.
He shuddered with horror ! He sought to escape from himself; walked up the
street, joined the first neighbor he met with, and talked to him about the weath-
er, the wind, and the snails which had injured the rye harvest for some years
past.

After some time he returned home with a couple of thirsty fellows, to whom,
he gave something to drink, that they might stay with him. Then he took an-
other cooling powder, and so got over the Sunday.

CHAPTER XLVII. — DOMESTIC HAPPINESS ON THE SABBATH DAY.

AND now I leave the house of wickedness for a time. It has sickened my
heart to dwell upon its horrors. Now I leave them for a time, and my spirit is
lightened and I breathe freely again. I approach once more the cottage where
human virtue dwells.

In the morning, after Leonard and his wife were gone to church, the children
sat quietly and thoughtfully together in the house, said their prayers, sang and
said over what they had learned in the week ; for they always had to repeat it
to Gertrude every Sunday evening.

Lise, the eldest, had the care of her little brother during service time. She
had to take him up, dress him, and give him his porridge ; and this was always
Lise's greatest Sunday treat ; for, when she was looking after and feeding the
child, she fancied herself a woman. You should have seen how she played the
part of mother, imitated her, fondled the baby in her arms, and nodded and
smiled to it; and how the little one smiled again, held out its hands, and kickedi
with its little feet; and how it caught hold of Lise's cap, or her hair, or her nose,
and pointed to the smart Sunday handkerchief on her neck, and called out, ha I*
ha ! and then how Nicholas and Anneli answered it, ha ! ha ! whilst the little-

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. (JO!

one turned its head round, to see where the voice came from, spied out Nicholas
and laughed at him ; and then how Nicholas sprang up to kiss and fondle his
little brother; and how Lise then would have the preference, and insisted upon
it that the little darling was laughing at her ; and how carefully she looked after
it, anticipated all its wants, played with it, and tossed it up toward the ceiling,
and then carefully let it down again almost to touch the ground ; how the baby
laughed and crowed with delight, whilst she held it up to the looking-glass, that
it might push its little hands and face against it ; and how at last it caught a
sight of its mother in the street, and crowed and clapped its hands, and almost
sprang out of Lise's arms.

Such were the delights of Leonard's children on a Sunday or a feast day; and
such delights of good children are acceptable in the sight of their God. He
looks down with complacency upon the innocence of children, when they are
enjoying existence ; and, if they continue good and obedient, he will bless them,
that it may be well with them to the end of their lives.

Gertrude was satisfied with her children, for they had done every thing as
they had been told.

It ' is the greatest happiness of good children to know that they have given
satisfaction to their father and mother.

Gertrude's children had this happiness. They climbed their parents' knees,
jumped first into the arms of one, and then of the other, and clasped their little
arms round their necks.

This was the luxury in which Leonard and Gertrude indulged on the Lord's
day. Ever since she became a mother, it had been Gertrude's Sunday delight
to rejoice over her children, and over their tender affection for their father and
mother.

Leonard sighed this day, when he thought how often he had deprived himself
of such pleasures.

Domestic happiness is the sweetest enjoyment of man upon earth; and tre
rejoicing of parents over their children is the holiest of human joys. It purifie:
and hallows the heart, and raises it toward the heavenly Father of all. There
fore the Lord blesses the tears of delight which flow from such feelings, au
richly repays every act of parental watchfulness and kindness.

But the ungodly man, who cares not for his children, and to whom they are a
trouble and a burthen — the ungodly man, who flies from them on the week day,
and conceals himself from them on the Sabbath ; who escapes from their '.- o-
cent enjoyment, and finds no pleasure in them till they are corrupted '•'" "lif
world, and become like himself — this man throws away from him the be,-> o.es>
ing of life. He will not in his old age rejoice in his children, nor derive anj
comfort from them.

On the Sabbath days Leonard and Gertrude, in the joy of their hearts spoke
to their children of the goodness of their God, and of the compassion of their
Saviour.

The children listened silently and attentively, and the hour of noon passed
ewiftly and happily away.

Then the bells began to ring, and Leonard and Gertrude went again to-
Jaurch.

On their way they passed by the bailiff's house, and Leonard said to Ger-
trude: "The bailiff looked shockingly this morning. I never in my life saw
him look so before. The sweat dropped from his forehead as he assisted at the

'602 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

sacrament. Didst thou not notice it, Gertrude? I perceived that he trembled
when he gave me the cup."

"I did not notice it," said Gertrude.

Leonard. " I was quite disturbed to see the man in such a state. If I durst,
1 would have asked him to forgive me ; and if I could in any way show him
that I wish him no ill, I would do it gladly."

Gertrude. " May God reward thee for thy kind heart, Leonard. It will be
right to do so, whenever thou hast an opportunity. But Rudi's poor children,
and many others, cry out for vengeance against this man, and he will not be able
to escape."

Leon. " I am quite grieved to see him so very unhappy. I have perceived,
for a long time past, amidst all the noisy merriment of his house, that some
anxiety preyed upon him constantly."

Ger. "My 'dear husband, whoever departs from a quiet, holy life can never
be really happy."

Leon. lilf I ever in my life saw any thing clearly, it was this: that however
•the bailiff's followers, whom he had about him in the house, might help him in
•the way of assistance, or advice, or cheating, or violence, they never procured
for him a single hour of contentment and ease."

As they were thus conversing, they arrived at church, and were there very
much moved by the great earnestness with which the pastor discoursed upon
'the character of the traitor.

CHAPTER XLVIII. — SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON SIN.

GERTRUDE, amongst the rest, had heard what was said, in the women's seats,
about the bailiff's house being again full of his people, and after church she told
Leonard of it. He answered : " I can scarcely believe it, during church time,
and on a Sunday."

Gerirude. "It is indeed very sad. But the entanglements of an ungodly
life lead to all, even the most fearful wickedness. I shall never forget the
•description our late pastor gave us of sin, the last time we received the sacra-
ment from him. He compared it to a lake, which from continual rains over-
flowed its banks. The swelling of the lake, said he, is imperceptible, but it in-
creases every day and hour, and rises higher and higher, and the danger is as
great as if it overflowed violently with a sudden storm.

" Therefore the experienced and prudent examine, in the beginning, all the
dams and embankments, to see whether they are in a fit condition to resist the
force of the waters. But the inexperienced and imprudent pay no attention to
the rising of the lake, till the dams are bui-st, and the fields and pastures laid
waste, and till the alarm bell warns all in the country to save themselves from
the devastation. It is thus, said he, with sin and the ruin which it occasions.

"I am not yet old, but I have already observe^ a hundred times, that the good
pastor was right, and that every one who pe*v. sts in the habitual commission of
any one sin, hardens his heart, so that he nc longer perceives the increase of its
wickedness, till destruction and horror awaken him out of his sleep."

CHAPTER XLIX. — THE CHARACTER AND EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.
CONVERSING in this manner, they returned to then* own cottage.
The children ran down the steps to meet their father and mother, and called
•>ut : " 0, come, pray come, mother ! we want to repeat what we learned last
that we may be ready directly."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. (jQ3

Gertrude. "Why are you in such haste, my loves? "What need is there for
it?"

Children. " 0, when we have repeated, mother, you know what we may do
then with our afternoon bread. You know, mother, what you promised yes-
terday."

Mother. " I shall be rery glad to hear whether you can say what you have
learned."

Chil. " But then we may do it afterward, mother ! may we not ? "

Mother. " Yes, if you are perfect."

The children were in great delight, and immediately repeated what they had
learned, very perfectly.

Then the mother gave them their pieces of bread and two bov^s of milk, from
which she had not taken the cream, because it was Sunday.

She then took the baby in her arms, and rejoiced in her heart to hear the
children laying their plans, and telling each other how they would give thei:
bread. Not one of them ate a mouthful of it, not one of them dipped a morse.
into the milk, but each rejoiced over his piece, showed it to the others, and
maintained that it was the largest share.

The mi)k was soon finished, but the bread was all lying by the mother
Nicholas crept up to her, took her hand, and said: "You will givo me a piec<
of bread for myself too, mother? "

Mother. "Thou hast got it already, Nicholas."

Nicholas. " Yes ; but that is what I must give to Rudeli."

Mother. " I did not bid thee give it to him ; thou mayst eat it thyself; if thot
•wilt"

Nich. " No, I will not eat it ; but will you not give me another piece for my-
self, mother?"

Mother. " No, certainly not."

Nich. " Why not, mother ? "

Mother. " That thou mayst not fancy that people should begin to think of
the poor, only when they are satisfied, and have eaten as much as they »an."

Nich. " Is that the reason, mother? "

Mother. "Wilt thou now give him the whole? "

Nich. " 0, yes. to be sure I will, mother. I know he is terribly hungry, and
we shall eat again at six o'clock."

Mother. "And, Nicholas, I think Rudeli will get nothing then."

Nich. "No, indeed, mother; he will have no supper."

Mother. "The want of those poor children is great indeed, and one must b"
~very hard and cruel not to spare, whatever one can, from one's own food, to re
lieve them in their distress."

Tears came into the eyes of Nicholas. The mother then turned to the other
-children: "Lise, dost thou mean to give away all thy piece?"

Lise. "Yes, certainly, mother."

Mother. "And thou too, Enne? "

Enne. "Yes, mother."

Mother. "And thou too, Jonas?"

•Jonas. "I think so, mother."

Mother. "I am glad of it, my children. But how will you set about it?
Every thing should be done in the right way, and people who mean very well,
often manage very ill. Tell me, Nicholas, how wilt thou give thy bread? "

J04 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

A7'7<. "I will run, as fast as I can, and call him, Rudeli, I mean; but I will
not put it into my pocket, that I may give it him sooner. Let me go now,
mother."

Mother. " Stop a moment, Nicholas. And how wilt thou manage, Lise ? "

Lise. "I will not do like Nicholas. I will beckon Betheli into a corner; I
will hide the bread under my apr jr., and I will give it her, so that nobody may
see it, not even her father."

Moilier "And what wilt thou do, Enne? "

Enne. " I do n't know where I shall meet with Heireli : I will give it as I
find best at the time."

Mother. "And thou, Jonas! Thou hast some trick in thy head, little rogue.
How wilt thou do ? "

Jonas. "I will stick my bread into his mouth as you do, mother, when you
are playing with me. I shall say to him : Open your mouth and shut your eyes,
and then I shall put it between his teeth. I am sure he will laugh then,
mother."

Mother. "Very well, my children. But I must tell you one thing. You
must give the children the bread quietly, and so as not to be observed ; lest
people should think you fancy you are doing a very fine thing."

Nich. "Potz tausend, mother! then I had better put the bread into my
pocket, after all."

Mother. "I think so, Nicholas."

Line. " I thought of that before, mother; and that was the reason why I said
I should not do like him."

Mother. " Thou art always the cleverest, Lise. I ought not to have forgot-
ten to praise thee for it, and thou dost well to remind me of it."

Lise blushed and was silent, and the mother said to the children: "You may
go now, but remember what I have said to yon." The children went.

Nicholas ran and leaped, as fast as he could, <inwn to Rudi's house, but Rudeli
was not in the street. Nicholas shouted, and whistled, and called, but in vain ;
he did not come out, even to the window. Then said Nicholas to himself:
" What must I do now ? Must I go into the house to him ? But I must give
it him alone. I will go and tell him to come out into the street."

Rudeli was sitting with his father and sisters by the open coffin of his dear
grandmother, who was to be buried in two hours ; and the father and his chil-
dren were talking, with tears in their eyes, of the kindness and love which she
had always shown them. They wept over her last trouble about the potatoes,
and promised again, as they looked at her, that, however hungry they might be,
they would never steal from any body.

At this moment Nicholas opened the door, saw the dead body, was frightened,
and ran out of the house again.

Rudi, who thought he might have some message to him from Leonard, went
after the boy, and asked what he wanted. " Nothing, nothing," answered Nich-
olas, " only I wanted to speak to Rudeli, but he is at his prayers."

Rudi. " You may come in, if you want him."

Nich. "Let him come here to me for a moment."

Rudi. " It is so cold, and he does not like to leave his grandmother. Come-
nto the house to him."

Nich. " I can not go in. Rudi. Let him come to me for a moment."

"Well then, he sha.'l," answered Rudi, and went back into the house.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. (JQ5

Nicholas followed him to the door, and called: "Rudeli, come here just for
-one moment."

Rudeli. " I can not come into the street, Nicholas ! I would rather stay with
my grandmother. They will soon take her away from us."

Nich. " It is but for a moment."

Rudi. " Go and see what he wants."

Rudeli went out, and Nicholas took him by the arm, and saying: " Come here
I have something to say to you," led him into a corner, thrust the bread quickly
into his pocket, and ran away.

Rudeli thanked him, and called after him: "Thank your father and your
mother too."

Nicholas turned round, made a sign to him, with his hand, to be quiet, said :
"Don't tell any body," and went off again like an arrow.

•CHAPTER L. — CONCEIT AND BAD HABITS INTERFERE WITH OUR HAPPINESS,
EVEN WHEN WE ARE DOING A KIND ACTION.

LISE, in the meantime, walked deliberately to the higher village, to Betheli,
Marx Reuti's daughter. She was standing at the window.

Lise beckoned to her, and Betheli crept out of the house. But her father,
who observed it, followed her, and hid himself behind the door.

The children thought not of him, and chattered away to their hearts' content.

Lise. "Betheli, I have brought you some bread."

Betheli. (Shivering, and stretching out her hand.) " You are very kind, Lise ;
-and I am very hungry. But why do you bring me bread to-day? "

Lise. "Because I like you, Betheli. We have now bread enough. My
• father is to build the church."

Beth. "And so is mine, too."

Lise. "Yes; but your father is only a day-laborer."

Beth. " It is all the same thing, if it brings us bread."

Lise. " Have you been very ill off? "

Beth. " 0 1 I do hope we shall do better now."

Lise. "What have you had for dinner?"

Beth. " I dare not tell you."

Lise. "Why not?"

Beth. " If my lather were to find it out, he would — "

Lise. '• I shall never tell him."

Betheli took a piece of a raw turnip out of her pocket, and said : '• See here."

Lise. " Goodness ! nothing better than that ? "

Beth. " We have had nothing better this two days."

Lise. "And you must not tell any body; nor ask any body for any thing — "

Beth. " If he only knew I had told you, it would be a pretty business for
mie."

Lise. "Well, eat the bread before you go in again."

Beth. " Yes, that I will, or I shall not get it."

She began to eat, and at that moment Marx opened the door, and said-:
'"What art thou eating, my child? "

His child gulped and swallowed down the unchewed mouthful, and said :
"Nothing, nothing, father."

M'irx. "Nothing was it? but stop a moment! Lise, I don't like people to
:give my children bread, behind my back, for telling them such godless lies about

606 LEONARD AND (JKKTRI'DE.

what is eattn.and drunk in the house. Thou godless Betheli! dost thou not
know that we had a chicken for dinner to-day ? "

Lise now walked off as fast, as she had come deliberately.

But Marx took Betheli by the arm, and dragged her into the house, and Liae
heard her crying bitterly, even when she was a great way off.

Kmi>- mot Ileirdi in the door-way of his own house, and said: "Would you
like a piece of bread? "

Heireli. "Yes, if you have any for me." Enne gave it him; he thanked
her, and she went away again.

Jonas crept about Shaben Michel's house, till Robert saw him, and came out.
'•What are you after, Jonas?" said Robert.

Jonas. " I want to have some play."

Robert. " Well, I will play with you, Jonas."

Jonas. " Will you do what I tell you, Robert ? and then we shall have some
sport."

RoU. "What do you want me to do ? "

Jonas. "You must shut your eyes, and open your mouth."

RoU. " Ay, but perhaps you will put something dirty into my mouth."

Jonas. "No, I promise you, faithfully. T will not, Robert."

Robt. "Well — but look to it if you cheat me, Jonas!" (He opened his
mouth, and half shut his eyes.)

Jonas. "You must shut your eyes quite close, or it will not do."

Robt. "Yes! but if you should prove a rogue, Jonas;" said Robert, shutting
his eyes quite close.

Jonas popped the bread into his mouth directly, and ran off.

Robert took the bread out of his mouth, and said : " This is good sport, in-
deed," and sat down to eat it.

CHAPTER LI. — NO MAN CAN TELL WHAT HAPPY CONSEQUENCES MAY RESULT
FROM EVEN THE MOST TRIFLING GOOD ACTION.

SHABEN MICHEL saw the sport of the children from the window, and knew
Jonas, Leonard's son, and it struck him to the heart.

" What a Satan I am ! " said he to himself. " I have sold myself to the bailiff,
to betray the man who provides me with work and food, and now I must see
that even this little fellow has the heart of an angel. I will not do any thing
to injure these people. Since yesterday, the bailiff has been an abomination to
me. I can not forget his look when he gave me the cup 1 " So said the man, and
he remained at home the rest of the evening, thinking over his past conduct.

Leonard's children were now all returned, and told their father and mother
how they had gone on, and were very merry — all except Lise, who tried, never-
theless, to look like the rest, and said a great deal about Betheli's delight when
she received the bread.

"I am sure something has happened to thee," said Gertrude.

"0, no, nothing has happened; and she was very glad, indeed, to have il,"
answered Lise.

Her mother inquired no further, but prayed with her children, gave them their
suppers, and put them to bed.

Afterward Leonard and Gertrude read for an hour in the Bible, and talked
about what they had read, and. passed a very happy Sunday evening together

LEONARD AM) GERTRUDE. 607

CHAPTER LII. — EARLY IN THE MORNING is TOO LATE FOR WHAT OUGHT TO BE

DONE THE EVENING BEFORE.

VERY early in the morning, as soon as the mason awoke, he heard some one
calling to him. in the front of the house, and got up immediately, and opened
the door.

It was Flink, the huntsman, from the hall. He wished the mason good
morning, and said: "Mason, I should have told thee, last night, to set the men,
to work this morning without delay, at breaking stone."

Mason. " From what I hear, the bailift' has told all the workmen to go to the
hall this morning. But it is early yet, they can scarcely be set out, and I will.
tell them."

He called to Lenk, who lived next door, but got no answer.

After some time, Keller, who lodged in the same house, came out, and said :
' Lenk went half an hour ago to the hall, with the rest of the men. The bailiff"
told them last night, after supper, that they must, without fail, be at the hall be-
times, as he had to be at home again by noon."

The huntsman was very uneasy at the intelligence, and said : " This is a cursed
business! " " But what must be done? " said the mason.

Flink. " Is there any chance of overtaking them ? "

Mason. " From Haiti's hill thou rnayst see them a mile and a half off; and, if
the wind be fair, thou mayst call them back so far."

Flink made no delay, but ran quickly up the hill, called, whistled, and shouted,
with all his might, but in vain. They did not hear him, but went their way,
and were soon out of sight.

The bailiff, who was not so far off, heard him call from the hill, and looked
out. The huntsman's gun glittered in the sun, so that the bailiff recognized him,
and wondered what the man wanted, and went back to meet him.

Flink told him that he had had a terrible headache the day before, and had
delayed going, to tell the mason to set the men to work to break stone the first
thing this morning.

CHAPTER LIII. — THE MORE CULPABLE A MAN is HIMSELF, THE MORE VIOLENTLY

DOES HE ABUSE ANOTHER WHO HAS DONE WRONG.

" THOU cursed knave ! what a trick thou hast played now 1 " said the
bailiff.

Flink. " Perhaps it will not turn out so ill. How the deuce could I tell that
the fellows would all run oft' to the hall before daybreak! "Was it by your
orders ? "

Bailiff. "Yes, it was, thou dog; and I suppose I shall now have to answer
for thy fault."

Flink. "I wish I may come clear oft' myself."

Bailiff. " It is a cursed— "

Flink. "That was the very word I used myself, when I heard they were
gone."

Bailiff. " I want no nonsense now, knave."

Flink. "Nor I neither; but what is to be done? "

Bailiff. "You fool, think."

Flink. " It is half an hour too late for my brains to discover any."

Bailiff. " Stop — one must never despair ! A thought strikes me. Maintain

<308 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

boldly that thou gavest the order last night to the mason's wife, or to one of his
children. They will not out-talk thee, if thou art resolute."

Flink. " I will not try that plan. It may miss."

Bailiff. " Nay, it could not miss, if thou wert steady. But, upon second
thoughts, I have hit upon another which is better."

Flink.. "What's that ?;'

Bailiff. " Thou must run back to the mason, and lament and grieve over it ;
and tell him, it may be a great loss to thee to have neglected the order ; but that
he may get thee out of trouble by speaking one word for thee, and telling the
squire that he received his note on the Sunday ; and, by mistake, as it was the
Sabbath, had not opened it till to-day.

" This will not hurt him in the least, and will get thee out of the scrape, if thou
canst persuade him to do it."

Flink. "You are right there, and I think it will do."

Bailiff. " It can not miss."

Flink. " I must go now. I have other letters to take, but I will return
. some time this morning to the mason. Good-by, Bailiff."

When the bailiff was left alone, he said : " I will go now and give this account
at the hall. If it does not agree, I will say it is what the huntsman told me."

CHAPTER LIV. — USELESS LABOR FOR POOR PEOPLE.

IN the meantime, the day-laborers arrived at the hall, sat down on the benches
near the door, and waited till they were summoned, or till the bailiff, who had
promised to follow them, should arrive.

When the squire's footman saw the men at the door, he went down to them,
and said : " What are you here for, neighbors ? My master thinks you are at
work at the building."

The men answered: " The bailiff told us to come here to thank the squire for
giving us the work."

"That was not necessary," answered Glaus. "He will not keep you long for
that ; but I will tell him you are here."

The footman told his master, and the squire ordered the men to come in, and
asked them, kindly, what they wanted.

When they had told him, and, awkwardly and with difficulty, stammered out
something of thanks, the squire said : " Who told you to come here on this
account?"

"The bailiff," replied the men, and again attempted k> give him thanks.

"This has happened against my wish," said Arner. "But go away now, and
be diligent and faithful, and I shall be glad if the work is of use to any of you.
And tell your master that you must begin to break the stone to-day."

Then the men went home again.

CHAPTER LV. — A HYPOCRITE MAKES FRIENDS WITH A ROGUE.
AND as they returned, one of the men said to the others: "This young squire
is a very kind-hearted man."

" And so would the old one have been too, if he had not been imposed upon,
in a thousand ways," said the old men with one voice.

" My father has told me, a hundred times, that he was very well inclined ir
his youth, and would have continued so, if he had not been so infatuated by the
bailiff," said Abi.

1 And then it was all over with the squire's kindness. It dropped only into

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 009

the bailiff's chest, and he led him about, as he chose, like a great Polar bear,"
said Leemann.

•' "What a shameful trick he has played us now, to send us all this way with-
out orders, and then leave us to get out of the scrape ourselves," said Lenk.

"That is always his way," said Kienast.

"And a villainous way it is," answered Lenk.

" Yes, but the bailiff is a worthy man ! Pec vie like us cr.n not always judge
of the reasons for such things," answered Kriech>r, .'n a raised tone; for he saw
the bailiff creeping along the hollow, and very ne^r \\ern.

"The devil 1 thou mayest praise him if thou wilt, bit I will praise the squire
for the future," said Lenk, almost as loudly; for he did not seethe bailiff
below.

The latter now, as he was speaking, came up out of the hollow, wished them
good morning, and then said to Lenk: "And why art thou praising the sqiKe
-at this rate ? "

Lenk answered, in some confusion : " Because we were talkir g together abou*
his being so good-natured and kind to us."

"But that was not all," answered the bailiff.

11 1 know of nothing more," said Lenk.

"It is not right for a man to take back his words in that way, Lenk." said
Kriecher, and continued : " He was not alone in what he said, Mr. Bailiff. Some
of the others were murmuring that you had left them in such a way, and I was
saying that such as we could not judge of your reasons ; and upon this Lenk
said : ' I might praise the bailiff if I would, but that he would praise the t. \uire
for the future.' "

"Aye, indeed! and so thou wert comparing the squire with me," said t.\e
bailiff, sneeringly.

"But he did not mean it, as it is now represented," said some of the men,
shaking their heads, and murmuring against Kriecher.

" There is no need of any explanation and no harm done. It is an old proverb,
Whose bread I eat, his praise I sing," said the bailiff, and shaking Kriecher by
the hand, he said no more upon the subject, but asked the men whether Arner
had been angry.

" No ;" answered the men, " not at all. He only said, we must go home again,
and without fail begin the work to-day."

" Tell the mason s^ and that the mistake is of no consequence — my respects
to him," said the bailiff, and proceeded on his way; as did the men.

Some time before this, the huntsman had been to the mason, and begged
and entreated him to say that he had received the note on the Sunday.

The mason was willing to oblige the bailiff and the huntsman, and mentioned
it to his wife.

"I am afraid of every thing which is not straight-forward," said she, "and I
dare say the bailiff has already made his own excuse. If the squire asks thee,
I think thou must tell him the truth ; but perhaps he will not inquire any thing
more about it ; and then thou canst leave it as it is, that nobody may be brought
_nto trouble." Leonard accordingly told the huntsman that he would do this.

In the mean time the men returned from the hall.

"You are soon back again," said the mason.

"We might have spared our labor altogether;" replied they.

Leonard. "Was he angry about the mistake?"

89

610 LEONARD AND GERTR. 1>E.

M n. i:No, not at all! He was very friendly and kind, and tola us «o eo
bark and begin the work to-day.

Flink. "You see it will be of no consequence to you. It is a very different
thing for me and the bailiff."

"0, but the bailiff's message; we had nearly forgotton it," said Hubel Rudi;
" he sent his respects to thee, and the mistake was of no consequence."

Leon. " Had he been with the squire, when you met him? "

Men. "No; we met him on his way."

Leon. " Then he knew no more than what you told him, and what I now
know myself?"

Men. " No ! to be sure he did not."

Flink. " You will keep your promise, mason? "

Leon. " Yes, but exactly as I told you."

The mason then ordered the men to be at their work early, prepared some
tools, and, after he had got his dinner, went with the men, for the first time, to
the work.

" May God Almighty grant his blessing upon it," said Gertrude, as he went Out.

CHAPTER LVI. — IT is DECIDED THAT THE BAILIFF MUST NO LONGER BE A

LANDLORD.

WHEN the bailiff came to the hall, Arner kept him waiting some time. At
jast he came out of the avenue and asked him, with some displeasure: "What
.3 the meaning of this ? Why did you send all these people to the hall to-day,,
vvithout orders?"

" I thought it was my duty to advise them to thank your honor for your good-
ness." answered the bailiff.

Arner replied, " Your duty is to do what is useful to me and to my people,
and what I order you, but not to send poor folks all this way for nothing, to
teach them to make fine speeches, which are of no use, and which I do not seek
for. But the reason why I sent for you, was to tell you, that I will no longer
have the situation of bailiff and landlord filled by the same person."

The bailiff turned pale, trembled, and knew not what to reply ; for he was
quite unprepared for such a sudden resolution.

Arner continued, "I will leave you to choose which of the two you prefer;
but in a fortnight I must know your determination."

The bailiff had somewhat recovered himself again, and stammered out some
thanks for the time allowed him to think of it. Arner replied, "I should be
sorry to be hasty with any body, and I do not wish to oppress you, old man.
Bnt the two offices are incompatible with each other."

This kindness of Arner encouraged the bailiff. He answered, "Till now all
the bailiffs in your employ have kept tavern, and it is a common practice through-
out the country."

But Arner answered him shortly, and said: "You have heard my decision."
He then took out his almanac, and said again, "This is the 20th of March, and
in a fortnight it will be the 3d of April ; therefore, upon the 3d of April, I ex-
pect your answer. Till then, I have no more to say." Arner then marked
down the day in his almanac, and went 'into the house.

CHAPTER LVII. — HIS CONDUCT UPON THE OCCASION.

ANXIOUS and troubled at heart, the bailiff also departed. This blow had so
much overcome him, that be took no notice of any of the people he met on his

LEOiNARD AND GERTRUDE. QH

\vay down the steps, and through the avenue ; and he scarcely knew where he
was, till he came to the old nut-tree. There he stopped, and said to himself,
11 1 must take breath. How my heart beats ! I don't know whether I stand
on my head or my feet. "Without making a single complaint, without making
any inquiry, merely because it is his pleasure, I am either to give up being
bailiff, or landlord. This is beyond all bounds. Can he compel me to it ? I
think not. He can not take away my bailiff's coat, without bringing some
charge against me ; and the landlord's license is paid for. But if he should try,
if he should seek for open accusation, he may find as much as he will. Of all
he damned fellows I have served, there is not one who would be true to me.
"What must I do, now! A fortnight is something, however; I have often done
great deal in that time. If I can only keep up my spirits ! The mason is at
the bottom of all this. If I can only ruin him, it will be every thing. I can
manage all the rest. But how very faint and weak I am ! " So saying, he took
a brandy bottle out of his pocket, sat down in the shade of the tree, applied to
his constant remedy, and swallowed down one draught after another. A thief
or a murderer, who is pursued by a warrant, is not more refreshed by his first
draught of water in a free land, than the bailiff's rancorous heart was encour-
aged by his brandy bottle. He felt himself better again immediately, and, with
his strength, his wicked daring also revived. "This has refreshed me greatly,"
said he to himself. And he got up again, with the air of a bold man who bears
himself loftily. UA little while ago," said he, "I thought they would eat me up
for then* supper, but now I feel once more as if I could crush the mason, a»(J
•the fine young squire himself, with my little finger. It is well I did not leave*
my bottle behind me. I am a sad poor creature without it."

Thus reasoned the bailiff with himself. His fears had now entirely given*
place to anger, pride, and his brandy bottle.

He walked along once more, as insolently and as full of malice as usual.
He nodded to the people in the fields, who saluted him, with almost his wont-
ed bailiff's pride. He carried his knotted stick in a commanding manner, as if
he were of more importance in the country than ten Arners. He pursed up his
mouth, and opened his eyes, as wide and round as a plough-wheel, as they say
in this country. Thus did the blockhead behave at a time when he had so little
cause for it.

CHAPTER LVIII. — ms COMPANION.

BY his side walked his great Turk ; a dog who, at a word from the bailiff,
showed his great white teeth and snarled at every body, but faithfully followed
is master through life and death. This great Turk was as much the terror of
11 the poor folks around, as his master was of ah1 his oppressed dependents and
debtors. This powerful Turk walked majestically by the side of the bailiff-
tut I dare not utter what is at my tongue's end, only it is certain that the bail-
iff, who was in a furious rage, had something in the expression of his face which
reminded one very much of the dog.

CHAPTER LIX. — EXPLANATION OF A DIFFICULTY.

PERHAPS some sim^e inquirer may wonder how the bailiff, after yesterday's
trouble, and his fright this morning, could still bear himself so haughtily. An
experienced man will see the reason at once. J.'ride never torment-; a mun
moro, fian when he is under a cloud. As long as all is prosperous, aud no-
body can doubt a man's greatness, he seldom thinks it necessary to look so vei r

612 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

big. But when on all sides people begin to rejoice over his failures, it is no
longer the same thing — then the blood gets heated, foams, and runs over like hot
butter in a kettle, and this was exactly the bailiff's case. Moreover, it was very
natural, and the most simple may understand it, that after he had recruited him-
self under the nut-tree, he should be able to conduct himself as haughtily as 1
have described. Besides this, he had slept better than usual the night before,
on account of having taken his two powders, and drunk little, and his head,
this morning, was quite cleared from the uneasiness and anxiety of the preced-
ing day.

CHAPTER LX. — A DIGRESSION.

IT would, indeed, have been better for the bailiff if he had broken his brandy
bottle to atoms, under the nut-tree, and gone back to his master to explain to
him his situation, and to tell him that he was not rich, and had need both of
his office of bailiff, and of his tavern, on account of his debts, and entreat him
to show compassion and mercy toward him. I am sure Arner would not have
driven away the old man, if he had acted thus.

But such is always the ill fate of the ungodly. Their crimes deprive them of
their reason, and they become, as it were, blind in their greatest difficulties,
and act like madmen in their distress ; whilst, on the contrary, good and honest
men, who have pure and upright lu-;uts, kt-i-p their senses much better in their
misfortunes, and therefore generally know better how to help themselves, and
how to act in all the chances of life.

They bear their misfortunes with humility, ask forgiveness for their faults, and
in their necessity look up to that Power who always lends assistance in need, to.
those who seek his help with pure hearts.

The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, is a protection and polar
star to them, through life, and they always so pass through the world, as, in the
end, to thank God from their hearts.

But the wickedness of the ungodly man leads him from one depth to another.
He never uses his understanding in the straight paths of simplicity, to seek for
repose, justice, and peace. He uses it only in the crooked way of wickedness,
to create distress, and to bring about disturbance. Therefore he is always un-
happy, and in his necessity becomes insolent.

He denies his faults, he is proud in his distress. He seeks to help and save
himself either by hypocrisy and servility, or by force and cunning.

He trusts to his own misled and disordered understanding. He turns away
from the hand of his father, which is stretched out toward him, and when his
voice says : " Humble thyself! it is a father's hand which chastens and will help
thee," he despises the voice of his deliverer, and says: "With my own hand,
and with my own head, will I save myself." Therefore the end of the ungodly
man is always utter misery and woe.

CHAPTER LXI. — AN OLD MAN LAYS OPEN HIS HEART.

I HAVE been young, and now am old, and I have many times, and often, ob-
served the ways of the pious, and of the ungodly. I have seen the boys of the
village grow up with me. I have seen them become men, and bring up chil-
dren and grand-children — and now have I accompanied all those of my own age,
except seven, to the grave. 0 God ! thou knowest the hour, when I too must
follow my brethren ! My strength decays, but my eyes are fixed upon the
Lord! Our life is like a flower of the field, which in the morning springs up,

i.KONAIlU AND GERTRUDE. gjg

and in the evening withers away. 0 Lord, our God ! thou art merciful and
-radons toward these who put their trust in thee — therefore does my soul hope
inthee; but the way of the sinner leads to destruction. Children of my vil-
lage, 0 listen to instruction. Hear what is the life of the ungodly, that you
may become holy. I have seen children who were insolent to their parents,
and heeded not their affection. All of them came to a bad end. I knew the
father of the wretched Uli. I lived under the same roof with him ; and saw,
with my own eyes, how the godless son tormented and insulted his poor father.
And as long as I live, I shall never forget how the old man wept over him, au
hour before his death. I saw the wicked boy laugh at his funeral ! Can God
suffer such a wretch to live ? thought I.

What followed? He married a woman who had a large property, and he
was then one of the richest men of the village, and went about, in his pride
and in his wickedness, as if there were none in heaven, or upon earth, above
nun.

A year passed over, and then I saw the proud Uli sorrow and lament at his
wife's funeral. He was obliged to give back her property, to the last farthing,
to her relations. He was suddenly become as poor as a beggar, and in his
poverty he stole, and you know what was his end. Children, thus have I al-
ways seen that the end of the ungodly man is misery and woe.

But I have also seen the manifold blessings and comforts in the quiet cottages
of the pious. They enjoy whatever they have; they are content if they have
little, and sober if they have much.

Industry is in their hands, and peace in their hearts — such is their lot in life.
They enjoy their own with gladness, and covet not what is their neighbors.

Pride never torments thnu, envy does not embitter their lives. Therefore
they are always more cheerful and contented, and generally more healthy, than
the ungodly. They go through the necessary evils of life more safely and peace-
fully ; for their heads, and their hearts, are not turned to wickedness, but are
with their work, and the beloved inmates of their own cottages. Therefore they
enjoy life. Their heavenly Father looks down upon their cares and anxieties,
and assists them.

Dear children of my native village ! I have seen many pious men and wo-
men upon their death-beds, and I have never heard any — not a single one,
amongst them all — complain, in that hour, of the poverty and hardships of life.
All, without exception, thanked God for the thousand proofs of his paternal
goodness, which they had enjoyed through life.

0 my children ! be then pious, and remain single-hearted and innocent. I
have seen the consequences of sly and cunning habits.

Hummel and his associates were much more crafty than the rest. They knew
a thousand tricks, of which the others never dreamed. This made them proud,
and they thought that sincere men were only to be their fools. For a time they
devoured the bread of the widow and of the orphan — they raged and were furi-
ous against all who would not bow down the knee to them. But their end is
approaching. The Lord in heaven heard the sighs of the widow and of the or-
phan, and saw the tears of the mother, which she shed with her children, on
account of the wicked men who led away and oppressed the husband and the
father ; and the Lord in heaven helped the oppressed ones and the orphansr
when they had given up all hope of recovering their rights.

614 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

CHAPTER LXII. — TIIE HORRORS OF AN UNEASY CON.M -IKV -i:.

ON Saturday evening, when Hans Wust left the bailiff and went home, tho
pangs of perjury tormented him still more, so that he Jnvw himself upon the
ground and groaned in anguish.

Thus was he distracted the whole night, and on tie following sabbatli he
tore bis hair, struck his breast with his handa, violently, could neither eat nor
drink, and called out: "0, 0, this meadow of Rudi'sl 0, 0, his meadow, his
meadow I It tortures my very soul 1 0, 0, r^atan has got possession of me !
O, woe is me ! Woe to my miserable soul 1 "

Thus he wandered about, tormented and distracted by the thoughts of his
perjury, and groaned in the bitter agony of his spirit.

Worn out with such dreadful sufferings, he at length, on Sunday evening, fell
asleep for a time.

In the morning he was a little easier, and came to the resolution no longer
to keep his sufferings to himself, but to tell all to the pastor.

He took his Sunday coat, and whatever else he could find, and fastened all
together in a bundle, that he might borrow upon them the money he owed the
bailiff.

He then took up the bundle, trembled, went to the pastor's house, stood still,
was very near running away again, stood still once more, threw the bundle in
at the door-way, and gestured like one out of his mind.

CHAPTER LXIII. — KINDNESS AND SYMPATHY SAVE A WRETCHED MAN FROM BE-
COMING UTTERLY DISTRACTED.

THE pastor saw him in this situation, went to him, and said: "What is the
matter, Wust? What dost thou want ? Come into the house, if thou hast any
thing to say to me."

Then Wust followed the pastor into his room.

And the pastor was as kind and friendly as possible to Wust ; for he saw his
confusion and distress, and had, the day before, heard a report that he was al-
most in despair on account of his perjury.

Wh»-n Wust saw how kind and friendly the pastor was toward him, he re-
covered himself a little, by degrees, and said : —

"Honorable Herr Pastor 1 I believe I have sworn a false oath, and am almost
in despair about it. I can not bear it any longer. I will willingly submit to all
the punishment I have deserved, if I may only again hope in the mercy and
goodness of God."

CHAPTER LXJV. — A PASTOR'S TREATMENT OF A CASE OF CONM II.M i.

TIIE pastor answered : "If thou art truly grieved at heart, on account of thy
fault, distrust not God's mercy."

Wust. " 0 sir, may I, may I ever, in this my crime, hope for God's mercy,
that he will forgive me my sins ? "

Pastor. "If God has brought a man to a true repentance of his sins, so that
he earnestly longs and si^rlis after pardon, he has already pointed out to him the
way to forgiveness, and to the obtaining of all spiritual mercies. Depend upon
this, Wust ! and if thy repentance be really from thy neart, doubt not that it
will be acceptable in the sight of God."

Wust. " But can I know that it is acceptable to him ? "

Pastor. " Thou mayest easily know, by faithfully examining thyself, whether

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

615

t In- really sincere, and from the bottom of thy heart; and if it be, it will cer-
tainly be acceptable to God. This is all I can say. But, Wust ! if any one has
encroached upon -his neighbor's land, and repents of it, he goes, without his
neighbor's knowledge or request, and, quietly and of his own accord, restores
the land, arid gives back rather more than less than what he had taken from
him. In this case, we can not but be convinced that his repentance is sincere.

" But if he does not restore it, or only part of it, to him — if he gives it back
unfairly — if he is only anxious not to be brought before a magistrate — if it is
all for his own sake and not for the sake, of his neighbor whom he has injured
— then are his repentance and his restoration only a cloak with which the fool-
ish man cheats himself. "Wust 1 if thou, in thy heart, seekest for nothing, but
to amend and rectify all the mischief which thy wickedness has caused, and all
the trouble which it has occasioned, and to obtain the forgiveness of God and
man ; if thou wishest for nothing else, and wilt willingly do and suffer any thing,
to make all possible amends for thy fault ; then is thy repentance certainly sin-
cere, and there is no doubt that it will be acceptable to God."

Wust. " 0, sir I I will most willingly do and suffer any thing whatever, upon
God's earth, if this weight may only be removed from my heart. It is such a
•dreadful torment I Wherever I go, whatever I do, I tremble under this sin."

Pastor. " Fear not ! Set about, the business with sincerity and truth, and
thou wilt certainly become easier."

Wust. " If I might only hope for that ! "

Pastor. KBe not afraid ! Trust in God! He is the God of the sinner who
flies unto him. Only do all thou canst, with sincerity and uprightness. The
greatest misfortune which has happened, in consequence of thy oath, is the sit-
uation of poor Rudi, who, owing to it, has fallen into grievous distress ; but I
hope the squire, when thou tellest him the whole affair, will himself take care
that the man is comforted in his necessity."

Wust. " It is, indeed, poor Rudi, who is a continual weight upon my heart.
Does your reverence think the squire will be able to help him to his meadow
again ? "

Pastor. " I don't know that. The bailiff will certainly do all in his power
to throw suspicion upon thy present testimony. But, on the other hand, the
squire will do his best, to help the unfortunate man to get his own again."

Wust. " 0, if he can only accomplish that! "

Pastor. "I wish he may, with all my heart! and I hope he will — but, what-
ever may happen to Rudi, it is necessary that, for thine own sake and for thy
!>••: of mind, thou shouldst tell the whole truth to the squire."

Wust. " I will willingly do that, your reverence."

Pastor. " It is the right way, and I am glad that thou dost it so willingly. It
will bring back rest and peace to thy heart. But, at the same time, this acknowl-
edgment will bring blame, and trouble, and imprisonment, and grievous distress
upon thee."

Wust. " 0, sir ! all that is nothing in comparison of the horrors of despair,
«nd the fear of never again obtaining the forgiving mercy of God."

Pastor. "Thou seest the thing so properly and sensibly, that I am glad at heart
on thy account. Pray unto God, who has given thee so many good thoughts.
and so much strength' for good and right resolutions, thaf he will grant thee still
further favor. Thou art now in an excellent way. and wilt, with God's assist-
ance, bear with patience and humility whatever may await thee — and, what

(Jig LEONARD AM) UKRTRUDE.

ever happens to thee, open thy heart to me. I will certainly never forsake
thee."

Wust. " 0, sir ! how kind, how tender you are to such a wicked sinner ! ''

Pastor. " God himself is all love and forbearance in his dealings with us poor
mortals, and I should indeed be a faithless servant to him, if 1 \s -ere cruel, and
unfeeling, and severe to one of my own erring brethren, whatever iniiilit l»c his
situation."

In this paternal manner did the pastor talk to "Wust, who burst into tears, and
for some time could not speak.

The pastor also remained silent.

Wust, at last, began again and said: "Please your reverence, I have one
thing more to say."

Pastor. "What is it?"

Wust. " Since this affair, I have owed the bailiff eight florins. He said, the
day before yesterday, that he would tear the note ; but I will not receive any
thing from him. I will pay it back to him."

Pastor. "Thou art right. Thou must certainly do that, and before thou
speakest to Arner upon the subject."

Wust. "I have brought a bundle with me. It is my Sunday coat and some
other things, which together are well worth eight florins. I must borrow this
money, and I thought you would not be angry, if I were to beg you to lend it
me. upon this pledge."

Pastor. " I never take security from any body, and I am obliged often to re-
fuse such requests, sorry as I may be to do so ; but in thy case I will not refuse."

Immediately he gave him the money, and said : "Take it directly to the bail-
iff, and carry thy bundle home with thee."

CHAPTER LXV. — THERE is OFTEN A DELICACY IN THE POOREST PEOPLE, EVEN

WHEN THEY ARE RECEIVING FAVORS FOR WHICH THEY HAVE ASKED.

WUST trembled when he received the money from the pastor, and said : " But
I will certainly not take the bundle home, your reverence."

"Well then, I must send it after thee, if thou wilt not take it thyself," said
the pastor, smiling.

Wust. " For heaven's sake, sir, keep the bundle ; that you may be sure of
your money."

Pastor. " I shall be sure of it any way, Wustl Don't trouble thyself about
that, but think only of the much more important things thou hast to do. I will'
write to the squire to-day, and thou canst take the letter to him to-morrow."

Wust. I thank your reverence. But, for heaven's sake, keep the bundle. I
dare not take the money else. I dare not, indeed ! "

Pastor. " Say no more about it ; but go directly to the bailiff, with the mon-
ey, and come to me again to-morrow, at nine o'clock."

Then Wust went, relieved and comforted in his mind, from the pastor to the
bailiff's house ; and, as he was not at home, he gave the money to his wife. She
said to him : " Where did you get so much money at once, Wust ? " Downcast
and briefly, Wust answered : " I have managed as well as I could. God be
praised that you have it."

The bailiff's wife replied : " We never troubled you for it."

Wust. "I know that well enough, but it was no better for me on that ac-
count."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. Q J 7

Bailiff's Wife. " You speak strangely, Wust ! What is the matter with
you ? All seems riot right with you."

Wust. "You will soon know more : but count the money, I must go."
The bailiff's wife counted the money, and said it was right.

Wust. " Well then, give it to your husband properly. Good-by."

Wife. "If it must be so, good-by, Wust."

CHAPTER LXVI. — A FORESTER -WHO DOES NOT BELIEVE IN GHOSTS.

THE bailiff, in his way from the hall, called at the tavern at Hirzau, and sat
there drinking and talking to the countrymen. He told them of the lawsuits he
luid gained, of his influence over the late squire ; how he, and he alone, had kept
the people in order under him ; and how all was now confusion.

Then he gave his dog as much dinner as a hard-working man would eat, ex-
cept the wine ; and laughed at a poor fellow who sighed, as he saw the good
meat and drink set before the dog. " Thou wouldst be glad enough to take it
away from him," said he to the poor man ; patted the dog, and talked, and drank,
and boasted to the countrymen till evening.

Then came the old forester from the hall, and, as he went by, he called for a
glass of wine ; and the bailiff, who was never willingly alone for a moment, said
to him : "We will go home together."

"If you are coming now," said the forester ; "I must follow a track."

"This moment," answered the bailiff; asked first for his dog's reckoning and
then for his own, paid both, gave the waiter his fee, and they went out together.

When they were alone on the road, the bailiff asked the forester if it were
safe to go through the woods at night, on account of spirits.

Forester. "Why do you ask ? "

Bailiff. " Only because I wonder how it is."

Forester. " You are an old fool then. To think of having been bailiff thirty
years, and asking such a nonsensical question. You should be ashamed of your-
self."

Bailiff. "No, by G — ! About ghosts I never know what to think, whether
to believe in them or not. And yet I never saw any."

Forester. " Come, as you ask so honestly, I will help you out of your won-
der— but you will give me a bottle of wine for my information ? "

Bailiff. '* I will gladly give you two, if you can explain it."

Forester. " I have now been a forester forty years, and was brought up in the
woods, by my father, ever since I was a boy of four years old. He was always
talking to the countrymen, in taverns and at drinking bouts, about ghosts and
horrible sights he saw in the woods — but he was only playing the fool with
them. He went on very differently with me — I was to be a forester, and there-
fore must neither believe nor fear any such stuff. Therefore he took me by
night, when there was neither moon nor stars, when it was very stormy, and
on festivals and holy nights, into the woods. If he saw a fire, or an appear-
ance of any kind, or heard a noise, I was obliged to run toward it with him,
over shrubs, and stumps, and holes, and ditches, and to follow him over all
cross roads, after the noise : and it was always gypsies, thieves, or beggars — and
then he called out, with his terrible voice : 'Away rogues ! ' and though there
were twenty or thirty of them, they always made off ; and often left pots, and
nans, and meat behind them, so that it was laughable to behold. Often indeed
+ho noise was nothing but wild animals, which sometimes make a strange sound

LEONARD AM) GERTRUDE.

and decayed old trunks of trees will give out a light, and have an appear; UK-H
which often frightens people, who dare not go up to them ; and these are all the
ghosts I ever in my life saw in the wood. But it always is, and will be, a part
of my business to make my neighbors believe that it is well filled with spirits
and devils : for, look ye, one grows old, and it is a comfort, on a dark night, not
to have to turn out after the rascals."

CHAPTER LXVII. — A MAN WHO DESIRES TO REMOVE A LANDMARK, AND WOULD
WILLINGLY DISBELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF SPIRITS, BUT DARES NOT.

As the man was thus speaking, they came to the by-path, through which the
forester went into the wood, and the bailiff, who was now left alone, reasoned
thus with himself: —

" He has been a forester now for forty years, and has never seen a ghost, and
does not believe in them, and I am a fool and believe in them, and dare not pass
a quarter of an hour in the wood, to dig up a stone.

"The squire takes away my license from me, like a thief and a rogue, and
that dog of a stone upon the hill is no true landmark : I will never believe it is ;
and, suppose it be, has he a better right to ft than I have to my tavern?

" To take a man's property from him by violence in this way! Who but the
devil could put such a thing into his head ? And since he does not spare my
house, I have no reason to spare his damned flint-stone. But I dare not touch
it ! By night I dare not go to the place, and by day I can not manage it, on
account of the high-road." Thus he talked to himself, and came to Meyer's hill,
which is near the villa.uv.

He saw the mason at work upon the great flint stones which lay around, for
it was not yet six o'clock, and he was vexed in his soul to see it.

" Every thing I plan and contrive, fails me ! They all play the rogue with
me. Must I now go quietly past this damned Joseph, and not say a word to
Mm ? No, I can not do it ! I can not go by him, without a word. I would
rather wait here, till they go home."

He sat down, and soon afterward got up again : "I can not bear to sit here,
looking at them. I will go to the other side of the hill. 0, thou damned Jo-
seph ! " He went a few steps back, behind the hill, and sat down again.

CHAPTER LXVIII. — THE SETTING SUN AND A POOR LOST WRETCH.

THE sun was now setting, and its last be:ims fell upon the side of the hill,
where he sat. The field around him. and all below the hill, were already in
deep shade. The sun set in majesty and beauty, serenely and without a cloud ;
God's sun ; and the bailiff, looking back, as the last rays fell upon him, said to
himself, " It is going down ;" and he fixed his eyes upon it, till it was lost behind
the hill.

Now all was in shade, and night came on rapidly. Alas ! shade, night, and
darkness surround his heart ! No sun shines there I Do what he would, the bailiff
could not escape this thought. He shuddered and gnashed his teeth — instead
of falling down in prayer to the Lord of heaven, who calls forth the sun again in
his glory — instead of hoping in the Lord, who saves us out of the dust and out
of darkness, he gnashed with his teeth 1 The village clock at that moment
struck six, and the mason went home from his work. The bailiff followed
him.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 619

-CHAPTER LXIX. — HOW A MAN SHOULD CONDUCT HIMSELF WHO WOULD PROSPER
IN THE MANAGEMENT OF OTHERS.

THE mason had, during this first afternoon of their being together, gained the
good-will of most of the laborers. He worked the whole time as hard as they
did — himself lifted the heaviest stones, and stood in the mire, or in the water,
where it was necessary, as much or more than any of them. As they were
quite inexperienced in such labor, he showed them, kindly and patiently, the
best way of doing every thing to advantage, and betrayed no impatience even
toward the most awkward. He called no one an ox, or a fool ; though he had
provocation enough, a hundred times over. This patience and constant atten-
tion of the master, and his zeal in working himself, caused all to succeed ex-
tremely well.

•CHAPTER LXX. — A MAN WHO is A ROGUE AND THIET BEHAVES HONORABLY, AND

THE MASON'S WIFE SHOWS HER GOOD SENSE.

MICHEL, as being one of the stoutest and best workmen, was by the master's
side the whole afternoon, and saw with what kindness and goodness he behaved
even to the most stupid; and Michel, though a thief and a rogue, became fond
•of Leonard, on account of his fair and upright conduct, and resolved not to be
the cause of any injury to this good and honest man.

But Kriecher and the pious Marx Reuti were not so well pleased, that he
made no distinction amongst the people, but behaved well, even to the rogue
Michel. Lenk, too, shook his head often, and said to himself: " He is but a
simpleton 1 If he had taken people who could work, like me and my brother, he
would not have had half so much trouble." But the greater number, whom he
had kindly and patiently instructed in the work, thanked him from the bottom
of their hearts, and some of them prayed for him to that God, who rewards and
blesses the patience and kindness, which a man shows toward his weaker
brethren.

Michel could no longer keep to himself the wicked engagement into which
he had entered with the bailiff, on Saturday evening, and said to the master, as
they returned: "I have something to tell you, and will go home with you."

"Well! come then," said Leonard.

So he went with the master into his cottage, and told him how the bailiff, on
Saturday evening, had bribed him to treachery, and how he had received two
•crowns in hand for it. Leonard started, and Gertrude was horror-struck, at this
•account.

"It is dreadful! " said Leonard.

"Dreadful, indeed!" said Gertrude.

"But don't let it distress thee, Gertrude, I beg of thee."

" Be not at all disturbed about it, master," said Michel, " I will not lift a hand
against you, depend upon that ! "

Leonard. " I thank you, Michel ! but I did not deserve this from the bailiff."

Michel " He is a devil incarnate. Hell has no match for him, when he is
furious and seeks for revenge."

Leon. " It makes one shudder to think of it."

Gertrude. " I am quite bewildered 1 "

Mich. " Don't be like children about it ; all things have an end."

Ger. and Leon. "Yes; thanks be to God."

620 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Mich. "You may have it just, your own way. If you like, I will let tho
bailiff go on thinking I am still true to him, and to-morrow, or the next day,
take some tools from the building and carry them to his house. Then do you
go quickly to Arner, and get a search warrant to examine all houses, and begin
with the bailiff's, and go directly into the further room, where you will be sure
to find them ; but mind, you must rush in, the very moment you have shown
the warrant, or it will be all in vain. They will have warning and get the things
out of your sight, through the window, or under the bed-clothes — and, if you are
civil, and do not search for them, you will be in a fine situation. But, indeed, I
almost think it would be better for you to send somebody else ; you are not fit
for such a job."

Leon. "No, Michel; this kind of work certainly will not suit me."
Mich. "It is all one. I will find somebody to manage it cleverly for you."
Ger. " Michel ! I think we should thank God, that we have escaped from
the danger which threatened us, and not be laying a snare for the bailiff, from
revenge."

Mich. "He deserves what he will get. Never trouble your head about
that."

Ger. " It is not our business to judge what he deserves, or does not deserve ;
but it is our business to practice no revenge, and it is the only right conduct for
us to pursue in this case."

Mich. "I must confess that you are in the right, Gertrude. It is a great
blessing to be able so to govern one's self. But you are right. He will meet
with his reward, and it is best to keep entirely away from him, and have nothing
to do with him. And so I will directly break with him, and take him back his
two crowns. But just now, I have but a crown and a half! " He took it out of
his pocket, counted it, and then said : " I don't know whether to take him the
other half by itselfj or wait for my week's wages on Saturday, when I can give
it him altogether."

Leon. " It will be no inconvenience to me to advance you the half-crown
now."

Mich. " Well, if you can do so, I shall be very glad to have done with the
man to-day. I will take it to him, this very hour, as soon as I get it."

" Master ! since yesterday's sacrament, it has been heavy at my heart, that I
had promised him to do such wicked things; and, in the evening, came your
Jonas, to give his afternoon bread to my child, and that made me repent still
more of behaving so ill to you. I never knew you properly before, Leonard,
and I have never had much to do with you ; but to-day I saw you wishing to-
help every body kindly and patiently, and I thought I could never die in peace,
if I were to reward such an honest, good man with treachery. (The tears came
into his eyes.) See, now, whether I am in earnest or not."
Leon. "Then never do an injury to any man again."
Mich. "With God's help, I will follow your example."
Ger. "You will certainly be a happier man if you do."
Leon. " Do you wish to go to the bailiff this evening ? "
Mich. "Yes, if lean."

The mason gave him the half-crown and said: "Do not put him into a pas-
sion."

Ger. " And don't tell him that we know any thing about it."

Mich. " I will be as short as I can ; but I will go this moment, and th«ni it

LEONARD AND (JKKTKUDK g<2l

'will be done with. Good-by, Gertrude! I thank you. Leonard! Good
night."

Leon. "Good-by, Michel." He went away.

CHAPTER LXXI. — THE CATASTROPHE DRAWS NEAR.

WHEN the bailiff arrived at home, he found only his wife in the house ; and
therefore was able, at last, to give vent to all the rage and anger which had
Jbeen rising in him throughout the day.

At the hall, at Hirzau, arid in the fields, it was a different thing. A man like
him is not willing to lay open his heart to others.

It will be said : a bailiff who should do so would, indeed, be as simple as a
shepherd's lad ; and Hummel was never accused of this. He could, for days
together, smother his rage, envy, hatred, and vexation, and keep laughing, and
talking, and drinking ; but when he came home, and, by good or ill-luck, found
the house empty, then the rage which he had before concealed, burst forth
fearfully.

His wife was crying in a corner, and said : " For heaven's sake, do not go on
in this way. This violence of thine will only drive Arner still further. He
will not rest till thou art quiet."

"He will not rest, do what I will! He will never rest, till he has ruined me.
He is a rogue, a thief, and a dog. The most cursed of all the cursed," said the
man.

Wife " Do not talk in such a shocking way. Thou wilt go out of thy rnmd."

Bailiff. "Have I not cause? Dost thou not know that he will take my
license or my bailiff's coat from me in a fortnight? "

Wife. " I know it ; but, for heaven's sake, do not go on at this rate. The
whole village knows it already. The secretary told the attorney, who has pub-
lished it every where. I did not know it till tea-time this evening. All the
people were laughing and talking on both sides of the street about it; and Mar-
garet, who was at tea with me, took me aside, and told me the bad news. And,
besides this, Hans "Wust has brought back the eight florins. How comes he by
eight florins ? Arner must be at the bottom of it. Alas ! a storm threatens us
on every side ! " So said the wife.

The bailiff started, as if he had felt a thunder-bolt, at the words " Hans Wust
has brought back the eight florins 1 " He stood still for a time, staring at his
wife, with open mouth — and then said: "Where is the money? — where are
these eight florins ? "

His wife set the money on the table, in a broken ale-glass. The bailiff fixed
his eyes for some time upon it, without counting it, and then said : "It is not
.from the hall ! The squire never pays any body in this coin."

Wife. " I am very glad it is not from the hall."

Bailiff. "There is something more in this. Thou shouldst not have taken it
from him."

Wife. "Why not?"

Bailiff. " I could have got to know from whom he had it."

Wife. "I did think of that; but he would not wait; and I do not think
-thou couldst have got any thing out of him. He was as short and close as
.possible."

Bailiff. "All comes upon me at once. I know not what I am doing! — give
me something to drink ! " She set it before him, and he paced up and down the

622 LEONARD A.ND GERTRUDE.

room in a frenzy — drank and talked ,o himself. " I will ruin the mason ! That
is the first thing to be done — if it cost me a hundred crowns. Michel must
ruin him, and then I will go after the landmark." Thus he spoke ; and, at that
moment, Michel knocked at the door. The bailiff started in a fright, said:
"Who can be here so late at night ? " and went to look through the window.
" Open the door, bailiff," called out Michel.

CHAPTER LXXII. — HIS LAST HOPE FORSAKES THE BAILIFF.

"HE comes just at the right moment," said the bailiff, as he opened the door.
" "Welcome, Michel ! What good news dost thou bring ? "

Michel "Not much. I only want to tell you — "

Bailiff. " Don't talk outside the door, man. I shall not go to bed for some
time. Come into the room."

Mich. "I must go home again. I only want to tell you, that I have changed
my mind about Saturday's business."

Bailiff. "Ay, by G — ! that would be complete! No! thou must not change
thy mind. If it is not enough, I will give thee more — but come into the room.
We are sure to agree about it."

Mich. "At no price, bailiff. There are your two crowns."

Bailiff. " I will not receive them from thee, Michel ! Don't play the fool
with me. It can not hurt thee ; and, if the two crowns are too little, come into
my room."

Mich. " I will not listen to another word about it, bailiff. There is your
money."

Bailiff. "By G — , I will not receive it from thee, in this way. I have sworn
it, so come into the room."

Mich. "Well, I can do that. There; now I am in the room, and here is
your money," said he, laying it upon the table; "and now good-by, bailiff 1 "
and therewith he turned about, and away he went.

CHAPTER LXXIII. — HE SETS ABOUT REMOVING THE LANDMARK.

THE bailiff stood for a while, stock-still and speechless, rolled about his eyes,
foamed with fury, trembled, stamped, and then called out : " Wife, give me the
brandy. It must be done. I will go ! "

Wife. " Whither wilt thou go, this dark night?

Bailiff. " I am going — I am going to dig up the stone — give me the bottle.''

Wife. "For God's sake, do not attempt it."

Bailiff. " It must be done ! — I tell thee I will go."

Wife. "It is as dark as pitch, and near midnight; and this week before
Easter, the devil has most power."

Bailiff. "If he has got the horse, let him e'en take the bridle too. Give me
the bottle. I will go."

He took a pickaxe, a shovel, and a mattock, upon his shoulder, and went, in
tne darkness of the night, up the hill, to take away his master's landmark.

Drunkenness, and revenge, and rage, emboldened him ; but when he saw a
piece of shining wood, or heard a hare rustling along, he trembled, stopped for
« moment, and then went raging on, till at last he came to the landmark — set to
*rork directly, and hacked and shoveled away, with all his might.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

CHAPTER LXXIV. — NIGHT GREATLY DECEIVES DRUNKARDS AND ROGUES, ESPE-
CIALLY WHEN THEY ARE IN TROUBLE.

SUDDENLY a noise startled him, and, looking up, he saw a black man coming
toward him. A light shone about the man in the dark night, and fire burned
upon his head. ''This is the devil incarnate!" said the bailiff. And he ran,
away, screaming horribly, and leaving behind him mattock, pickaxe, and shovel
with his hat and the empty brandy bottle,

It was Christopher, the poulterer of Arnheim, who had been buying eggs at
Oberhofen, Lunkofen, Hirzau, and other places, and was now on his way home-
ward. He had covered his basket with the skin of a black goat, and had hung
a lantern from it, that he might find his way in the dark. This egg-carrier knew
the voice of the bailiff, as he was running away ; and, as he suspected that he
was about some evil deed, he grew angry, and said to himself: "I will give
the cursed knave his due for once. He thinks I am the devil."

Then quickly setting down his basket, he took up the mattock, pickax, and
shovel, and his own iron-bound walking-stick, fastened them all together, drag-
ged them behind him over the stony road, so that they rattled fearfully, and ran
after the bailiff, crying out, with a hollow, dismal voice: "Oh! — Ah — Uh! —
Hummel ! Oh ! — Ah ! — Uh ! — thou art mine — sto — op ! — Hummel ! "

The poor bailiff ran as fast as he could, and cried out pitifully, as he ran :
"Murder! help! watchman! the devil is catching me !"

And the poulterer kept shouting after him: "Oh! — Ah! — Uh! bai — liff —
sto — op — bailiff! thou art — mine! — bailiff."

CHAPTER LXXV. — THE VILLAGE is IN AN UPROAR.

THE watchman in the village heard the running and shouting upon the hill,
and could distinguish every word ; but he was afraid, and knocked at some
neighbors' windows.

"Get up, neighbors! " said he, "and hear what is going on upon the hill. It
sounds as if the devil had got hold of the bailiff. Hark I how he shouts mur-
der 1 and help ! And yet, God knows, he is at home with his wife. It is nol
two hours since I saw him through the window."

When about ten of them were assembled, they declared they would go alto-
gether, with torches, and well armed, toward the noise ; but that they would
carry with them, in their pockets, new bread, a testament, and psalter, that the
devil might not prevail against them.

The men accordingly went, but stopped first at the bailiff's house, to see
whether he were at home.

The bailiff's wife was waiting in deadly fear, wondering how he might be go-
ing on upon the hill, and when she heard the uproar in the night, and that men
with torches were knocking at the door, she was dreadfully frightened, and
called out : " Lord Jesus ! what do you want ? "

"Tell your husband to come to us," said the men.

" He is not at home ; but do tell me what is the matter ? Why are you here ? "
said the woman.

The men answered: "It is a bad business if he is not at home. Hark! how
he is crying murder ! help ! as if the devil were taking him."

The wife now ran out with the men, as if she had been beside herself.

The watchman asked her, by the way : " What the devil is your husband do-
ing now upon the hill? He was at home two hours ago."

624 l..:ONAKi/ \:,!> OERTRUDE.

She ans'.vt'ivil him nut a word, but screamed terribly.

And the bailiff's dog growled, at its chain's length.

When the poulterer saw the people coining to help the bailiff, and heard his
•log bark so fearfully, he turned round, and went, as quickly and quietly as he
iould, up the hill again to his basket, packed up his booty, and pursued his way.

Kunz, however, who, with the bailiff's wife, was a few steps before the rest,
saw that it could not be the devil ; and taking the roaring bailiff rather roughly
by the arm, said to him: "What is the matter? why dost thou go on in this
way ? "

" Oh — Oh — let me alone — 0 — devil ! let me alone ! " said the bailiff, who in
his terror could neither see nor hear.

"Thou fool, I am Kunz, thy neighbor; and this is thy wife," said the man.

The others first looked very carefully, to see whether the devil were any where
about; and those who had torches, held them up and down, to examine care-
fully above and below, and on every side ; and each man put his hand into his
pocket to feel for the new bread, the testament, and psalter.

But as they still saw nothing, they began to take courage by degrees, and
some grew bold enough to say to the bailiff: "Has the devil scratched thee
with his claws, or trodden thee under his feet, that thou art bleeding in this
manner? "

The others exclaimed: "This is no time for joking I we all heard the horrible
voice."

But Kunz said: "I suspect that a poacher or a woodman has tricked the
bailiff and all of us. As I came near him, the noise ceased, and a man ran up
the hill as fast as he could. I have repented ever since, that I did not run after
him ; and we were fools for not bringing the bailiff's dog with us."

" Thou art a fool thyself, Kunz 1 That was certainly no man's voice. It ran
through bone and marrow, and a wagon load of iron does not rattle over the
streets as it rattled."

" I will not contradict you, neighbors ! I shuddered as I heard it. But yet
I shall never be persuaded that I did not hear somebody run up the hill."

" Dost thou think that the devil can not run so that one may hear him ? " said
the men.

The bailiff heard not a word of what they were saying ; and, when he got
home, he asked the men to stay with him that night, and they willingly remained
in the tavern.

CHAPTER LXXVI. — THE PASTOR COMES TO THE TAVERN.

IN the mean time, the nightly uproar had roused the whole village. Even m
the parsonage-house, they were all awake; for they anticipated some evil tidings.

When the pastor inquired what was the cause of the noise, he heard fearful
accounts of the horrible adventure.

And the pastor thought he could, perhaps, turn the bailiff's fright (foolish as
its cause might be,) to a good use.

He therefore went that night to the tavern.

Quick as lightning, vanished the wine jug as he entered.

The men stood up and said : " Welcome, honorable Herr Pastor I "

The pastor thanked them, and said to the neighbors : " It is a credit to you
to be so ready and active when a misfortune happens. But will you now leave
me alone with the bailiff, for a short time ? "

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. g25

•' It is our duty to do as your reverence pleases. We wish you good-night."

Pastor. "The same to you, neighbors! but I must also beg that you will be
careful what you relate about this business. It is very disagreeable to have
made a great noise about a thing which afterward proves nothing at all, or some-
thing very different from what was expected. So far, nobody knows any thing
about what has happened ; and you know, neighbors, night is very deceitful."

" It is so, your reverence ! " said the men, as they left the room ; " and a great
fool he always is, and will believe nothing ! " added they, when they were out-
side of the door.

CHAPTER LXXVII. — CARE OP SOULS.

THE pastor began at once: "Bailiff! I have heard that something has hap-
pened to thee, and I am come to help and comfort thee, as far as I am able.
Tell me honestly what has really happened."

Bailiff. "I am a poor unfortunate wretch, and Satan tried to get hold of me "

Pastor. "How so, bailiff? where did this happen ?"

Bailiff. " Upon the hill, above."

Pastor. "Didst thou really see any body? Did any body touch thee? "

Bailiff. "I saw him as he ran after me. He was a great black man, and
had fire upon his head. He ran after me to the bottom of the hill."

Pastor. " Why does thy head bleed? "

Bailiff. " I fell down as I was running."

Pastor. " Then nobody laid hold of thee ? "

Bailiff. "No! but I saw him with my own eyes."

Pastor. " Well, bailiff, we will say no more about that. I can not under-
stand how it really was. But be it what it may, it makes little difference. For,
bailiff, there is an eternity when, without any doubt, the ungodly will fall into
his hands ; and the thoughts of this eternity, and of the danger of falling into
liis hands after thy death, must make thee anxious and uneasy in thy old age,
and during thy life."

Bailiff. "0, sir! I know not what to do for anxiety and uneasiness. For
heaven's sake, what can I do, what must I do, to get out of his hands? Am I
not already entirely in his power ? "

Pastor. "Bailiff! do not plague thyself with idle and foolish talking. Thou
hast sense and understanding, and therefore art in thine own power. Do what
is right, and what thy conscience tells thee is thy duty to God and man, and
thou wilt soon see that the devil has no power over thee."

Bailiff. " 0, sir ! what must I do to obtain God's mercy ? "

Pastor. " Thou must sincerely repent of thy faults, amend thy ways, and
give back thy unrighteous possessions."

Bailiff. " People say I am rich, your reverence! but heaven knows I am not
so."

Pastor. "That makes no difference. Thou keepest possession of Rudi's
meadow unjustly, and Wust and Keibacher have sworn falsely. I know it.
and I will not rest till Rudi has got his own again."

Bailiff. "0, sir! for heaven's sake, have compassion upon me."

Pastor. "The best compassion any one can show thee, is this : to persuade
thee to do thy duty to God and man."

Bailiff. "1 will do whatever you wish, sir."

Pastor. " Wilt thou give Rudi his meadow again? "

40

6*26 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

Bailiff. ;'Tes, I will, your reverence! "

Pastor. " Dost thou also acknowledge that thou possessest it unlawfully ? rv

Bailiff". " I can not deny it — but it will bring me to beggary if I lose it."

Pastor. " Bailiff I it is better to beg, than to keep unjust possession of poor
people's property."

The bailiff groaned.

Pastor. " But what wert thou doing upon the hill? "

Bailiff. "For heaven's sake, sir, do not ask me that? I can not, I dare not
tell you. Have mercy upon me, or I am a lost man."

Pastor. " I will not urge thee to confess more than thou desirest. If thou
dost it willingly, I will advise thee like a father ; but if thou wilt not, then it
is thy own fault if I can not give thee the advice which is perhaps most needful
to thee. But though I do not seek to inquire after what thou art not willing to
tell me, yet I can not see what thou canst gain by concealing any thing from
me."

Bailiff. " But will you never repeat what I say to you, without my consent,
whatever it may be ? "

Pastor. " I certainly will not."

Bailiff. " Then, in plain truth, I will tell you. I wanted to remove one of
the squire's landmarks."

Pastor. "Gracious heaven! and why wouldst thou injure the excellent
squire ? "

Bailiff. " Because he wants to take away from me either my tavern or my
office of bailiff."

Pastor. "Thou art indeed an unhappy creature, bailiff! And he was so far
from intending any unkindness toward thee, that he would have given thee ai)'
equivalent, if thou hadst freely given up thy office of bailiff."

Bailiff. " Can that be true, your reverence? "

Pastor. "Yes, bailiff, I can assure thee of it with certainty; for I had it from
his own lips. He was out hunting on Saturday afternoon, and I met him on the
road from Reutihof, where I had been to see the old woman, and there he told
me expressly that young Meyer, whom he wished to have for bailiff, should
give thee a hundred florins yearly, that thou mightest have no reason to com-
plain."

Bailiff. "0, if I had only known this before, your reverence, I should never
have come to this misfortune."

Pastor. "It is our duty to trust in God, evea when we can not see how his
fatherly mercy will show itself; and we should hope well from a good master on
earth, even when we can not see how he means to manifest his kindness toward
us. If we do this, we shall always remain true and faithful to him, and, in all
our mischances, find his heart open to compassion and paternal kindness to-
ward us."

Bailiff. ' " 0, what an unfortunate man I am! If. I had only known half of
this before ! "

Pastor. "We can not alter what is past! But what wilt thou do now,
bailiff? "

Bailiff. " I know not what in the world to do ! To confess it, would endanger
my life. What does your reverence think ? "

Pastor. " I repeat what I told thee just now. I do not wish to force thee
to any confession; what I say is merely in the way of advice; but it is my

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. g27

opinion, that the straight way never turned out ill to any body. Arner is merci-
ful, and thou art guilty. Do as thou wilt, but I would leave it to his com-
passion. I see clearly that it is a very difficult step to take, but it will also be
very difficult to hide thy fault from him, if thou seekest true peace and satisfac-
tion for thy heart."

The bailiff groaned, but did not speak.

The pastor proceeded : " Do as thou wilt, bailiff! I do not wish to urge thee ;
but the more I consider it, the more it appears to me that it will be the wisest
plan to leave it to Arner's compassion : for I must confess to thee, I do not see
what else thou canst do. The squire will inquire why thou wert off the road
so late at night."

Bailiff. "Mercy on me! what a thought is just come into my head. I have
left a pickaxe, shovel, and mattock, and I know not what besides, by the land-
mark, which is half dug up already. This may discover it all. I am in a
dreadful fright about the pickaxe and mattock! "

Pastor. " If thou art in such a fright, bailiff, about a poor pickaxe and mat-
tock, which may be easily removed before daybreak, think what hundreds of
such chances and accidents will occur, if thou concealest it, to poison all the
remainder of thy life with uneasiness arid constant bitter anxiety. Thou wilt
find no rest for thy heart, bailiff, if thou dost not confess."

Bailiff. " And there is no chance of my obtaining mercy from God, without
it?"

Pastor. " Bailiff ! if thou thyself thinkest and fearest this, and yet art silent;
against the voice of thy conscience and thine own conviction, how is it possible^
that this conduct can be pleasing to God, or restore thee to his favor? "

Bailiff. " And is there no other remedy ? "

Pastor.. " God's mercy will assist thee, if thou dost what thy conscience bids
thee."

Bailiff. " I will confess it."

The moment he said this, the pastor prayed thus, in his presence.

"All praise, and thanksgiving, and adoration, be unto thee Almighty Father I
Thou didst stretch forth thy hand toward him, and the work of thy love appeared
to him anger and wrath ! But it has touched his heart, so that he no longer
hardens himself against the voice of truth, as formerly. 0, thou, who art all
mercy, and compassion, and loving-kindness, graciously accept the sacrifice of
his confession, and remove not thy hand from him. Fulfill the work of thy
compassion, and let him again become one of thy favored children 1 0, heavenly
Father, the life of man upon earth is erring and sinful, but thou art merciful to-
thy frail children, and forgivest their excesses and sins when they amend.

"All praise and adoration be unto thee, Father Almighty! Thou hast
stretched forth thy hand toward him, that he might turn unto thee. Thou wilt
fulfil] the work of thy compassion ; and he will find thee, and praise thy name,
and acknowledge thy mercies amongst his brethren."

The bailiff was now thoroughly moved. Tears fell from his eyes.

" 0, sir, I will confess it, and do whatever is right. I will seek rest for my
soul, and God's mercy."

The pastor remained some time longer with him, comforting him, and then
went home. It was striking five as he arrived at his own house, and he imme-
diately wrote to Arner. His letter yesterday and that to-day were as
follows : —

628 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

CHAPTER LXXVIII. — TWO LETTERS FROM THE PASTOR TO ARNER.

FIRST LETTER.
"HIGH AND NOBLY BORN, GRACIOUS SIR!

" THE bearer of this, Hans Wust, has this day revealed a circumstance to me,
which is of such a nature, that I could not do otherwise than advise him to con-
fess it to you, as to his judge. He maintains, on his conscience, that the oath
which he and Keibacher took ten years ago, about the affair between Rudi and
the bailiff, was a false one. It is a distressing story, and there are some remark-
able circumstances belonging to it, relating to the conduct of the late secretary.
and of the unhappy assistant of my deceased predecessor, which this confession
will bring to light, and thereby I fear give rise to much scandal. But I thank
God that the poorest of all my many poor people, the long oppressed and suffer-
ing Rudi. with his unhappy family, may, by means of this confession, again
obtain possession of what belongs to them. The daily increasing wickedness
of the bailiff, and his daring conduct, which he now no longer restrains even on
sacred days, convince me that the time of his humiliation is approaching. For
the poor unhappy "Wust, I earnestly and humbly entreat your compassion, and
all the favor which the duty of justice can permit your benevolent heart to
show him.

•• My wife desires her best respects to your lady, and my children their grate-
ful remembrances to your daughters. They send a thousand thanks for the
bulbs, with which they have enriched our little garden. They will be most
zealously watched over, for my children have quite a passion for flowers.

" Permit me, high and nobly bom, gracious sir, with the sincerest respect and
esteem, to subscribe myself

"Your high and nobly born grace's
" Most obedient servant,

"JOACHIM ERNST."

"Bonnal, 20lh March, 1780."

SECOND LETTER.
"HIGH AND NOBLY BORN, GRACIOUS SIR!

"SiNCE yesterday evening, when I informed you (in a letter now lying sealed
beside me,) of some circumstances relating to Hans Wust, an all-seeing Provi-
dence has strengthened my hopes and wishes for Rudi, and my anticipations
respecting the bailiff, in a manner which I can not yet either comprehend or ex-
plain. Last night there was a general uproar in the village, so violent that I
apprehended some misfortune, and, upon inquiring, was told that the devil
wanted to seize the bailiff'. He screamed pitifully, on the hill, for assistance, and
all the people heard the horrible rattling noise of the pursuing devil. I could
not help laughing heartily at this intelligence ; but many more people came in,
who confirmed the fearful story, and at last told me that the bailiff was now re-
turned home again, with the men who had gone to help him ; but that he had
been so dreadfully dragged about and injured by his terrible enemy, that it was
not likely he would recover.

"This was a business quite out of my line — but what was to be done? We
must make the best of the world as it is, since we can not alter it. I thought
that whatever this affair might be, the bailiff was probably in a state to be
worked upon, and that I ought not to lose the opportunity ; so I went immediately

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

to his house. I found him in a pitiful condition. He was firmly persuaded that
the devil had really been in pursuit of him. I made a few inquiries, in hopes of
getting a clue to the business, but could make nothing out. The only thing
certain is. that nobody has touched him, and that the wound on his head, which
is but trifling, was caused by a fall. Moreover, as soon as the people approached,
the devil ceased his rattling and roaring — but it is time to come to the most im-
portant part of the story.

" The bailiff was humbled, and confessed to me two shocking deeds, which he
freely permitted me to communicate to your grace. First, that what Hans Wust
had told me yesterday was true — namely, that he had deceived your late grand-
father about Rudi, and obtained possession of the meadow unjustly. Secondly,
that this night he intended to remove one of your grace's landmarks, and was
busy at the work when the fearful accident happened to him.

" I humbly entreat your compassion and forbearance toward this unhappy
man also, who appears. God be praised for it, to be brought to repentance and
submission. As the circumstances are changed since yesterday, I will not send
Hans Wust with his letter, but Wilhelm Abi shall deliver them both. I wait
your further commands about them, and remain
•• With true regard,

" Your high and nobly born grace's
" Most obedient servant,

"Bonnal, list March, 1780." "JOACHIM ERNST."

CHAPTER LXXIX. — THE POULTERER'S INFORMATION.

WILHELM ABI set out for Arnburg with the letters, but Christopher, the
poulterer, was at the hall before him, and told the squire the whole of what had
happened, from beginning to end.

The squire, as he sat in his arm-chair, laughed until he had to hold his sides,
at the account of the bailiffs fright, and of the fearful Oh!— Ah!— Uh! of the
poulterer.

His wife Theresa, who was in the next room, heard the bursts of laughter and
the poulterer's exclamations, and called out: "Charles, what is the matter?
Come and tell me what it is all about! "

Theo the squire said to the poulterer : "My wife wants to hear how you per-
form the devil : come in."

And he took the poulterer into his wife's room.

The man there repeated his tale — how he had driven the bailiff down into the
field — how the neighbors had come out by dozens, with spits, and cudgels, and
torches, to the poor bailiff's help — and how he had then crept up the hill again.

The squire and his lady were much diverted, and the. squire gave the poulterer
some glasses of good wine, and bade him tell nobody a single word of the
affair.

In the mean time Wilhelm Abi arrived, with the pastor's letters.

Arner read them, and was the most touched by Hans Wust's story.

The negligence of his grandfather, and the misery of Rudi, deeply grieved
him ; but the pastor's judicious conduct rejoiced his heart. He gave the letters
to Theresa, and said : "My pastor in Bonnal is a most excellent man. Nobody
could have acted more kindly and prudently."

Theresa read the letters, and said : " This is a sad business about Wust ! You
must help Rudi to recover his property without delay ; and, if the bailiff refuses

(J30 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

to give up the meadow, throw him into prison. He is a wretch who must not
be spared."

"I will have him hanged, to a certainty! " answered Arner.

"0, no ! you will not put any body to death ! " replied Theresa.

" Do you think not, Theresa ? " said Arner laughing.

"Yes, Charles! I am sure of it! " said Theresa, affectionately kissing him.

"You would not "kiss me any more, I suspect, if I were to do so, Theresa,''
said Arner.

" No. indeed ! " said Theresa, smiling.

Arner then went into his own room, and answered the pastor's letters.

CHAPTER LXXX. — THE SQUIRE'S ANSWER TO THE PASTOR.
'•DEAR AXD REVEREND SIR,

" An hour before I received your letters, I had heard the story from the very
devil who chased the bailiff down the hill ; and who was no other than your old
acquaintance, Christopher, the poulterer. I will give you an account of the
whole affair, which was very laughable, to-day ; for I am coming to the village,
where I will hold a parish-meeting about the landmark. I mean at the same
time to have a comedy with the people, about their belief in ghosts ; and you,
my dear sir, must be present at this play. I think you have not been at many,
or you would not be so shy. and perhaps not so truly good an.d contented a
man.

" I beg your acceptance of some of my best wine, with my heartfelt thanks
for the upright and excellent assistance you have given me, in making amends
for my grandfather's failings.

" We will this afternoon drink some of it to his memory. Believe me, he
was a good man at heart, though rogues too often abused his kindness and con-
fidence. I thank you, my dear sir, for the pains and care you have taken
about Hubel Rudi. I will certainly assist him. This very day he must be in
charity with my dear grandfather, and I trust he will never again hi n in it
over the recollection of him. I am grieved at heart, that he has suH'cn-il
so much, and I will do my best, in any way I can, to comfort him for
his past distress, by future ease and happiness. "We are certainly bound
to make good the failings of our parents wherever it is in our power. 0. un-
clear sir, it is a sad mistake, to say that a judge is never answerable, nor oblige I
to make reparation. How little is he acquainted with mankind, who d cs IK t
see that all judges are bound, at the risk of their property, continually t<> rouse
and exert all their powers, not only to be honorable, but to be careful ;m<l
watchful. But I am going from the purpose.

" My wife and children desire me to give their kind regards to your family, and
send your daughters another box of flower-roots. Farewell, my dear sir ! and
do not trouble yourself to get all the rooms into such order, and to provide so
many good things, as if I were coming from pure hunger. If you do, I will not
visit you any more, dear as you are to me.

" Once more accept my best thanks, and believe me ever

" Your faithful and affectionate friend,

"CHARLES ARNER VON ARNHEIM."

"Arriburg, 2lst March, 1780."

" P. S. My wife has just told me that she wishes to be present at the comedy
of the poulterer, so we shall pour down upon you, with all the children, in the
family coach."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 631

CHAPTER LXXXI. — A GOOD COW-MAN.

WHEN* Arner had dismissed Wilhelm, he went into his cow-house, and, from
amongst his fifty cows, he chose out one for Hubel Rudi, and said to his cow-
man: "Feed this cow well, and tell the boy to drive it to Bonnal, and put it up
in the pastor's cow-house, till I come."

The cow-man replied : " Sir ! I must obey your orders ; but there is not one
amongst the fifty, I would not rather part with. She is such a fine, young,
handsome cow; and just at her best time for milking."

"It is to your credit, cow-man, to be so sorry to lose the good cow; but I am
glad I chose it, I was looking for the best. She is going to belong to a poor
man, cow-man, so don't grieve over her. She will be a treasure to him."
v Cow-man. " 0, sir, it is a sad pity to send her. She will fall off so in a poor
man's hands, grow so thin, and lose her looks. 0, sir, if I find he starves her,
I shall be running off' to Bonnal every day, with all my pockets full of bread and
salt for her."

Squire. " Thou art a good fellow ; but the man has an excellent meadow of
his own, and plenty of food for her."

Cow-man. " Well, if she must go, I do hope she will be well treated."

Squire. " Depend upon it, she will want for nothing, cow-man."

The man fed "the cow, and sighed to himself, because his master had chosen
the best of all his set, to give away. He gave his favorite Spot his own bread
and salt from breakfast, and then said to the boy : " Put on thy Sunday coat
and a clean shirt, brush thy shoes, and make thyself neat; tliou must drive Spot
to Bonnal."

And the boy aid as the cow-man bade him, and drove away the cow.

Arner stood still for a while, earnestly considering what he should decide
about the bailiff.

As a father, when he restrains his wild untoward boys, seeks only the welfare
of his children — as a father grieves at the punishment he is obliged to inflict,
and would gladly exchange it for forgiveness and approbation — as he shows his
sorrow in punishing, and touches his children's hearts still more by his tender
regret than by the chastisement — so, thought Arner, must I punish, if I would
perform my duty as judge, in the spirit of a father to my dependants.

With these feelings he formed his decisions about the bailiff.

In the mean time his wife and her maidens had hastened dinner, that it
might be over sooner than usual.

CHAPTER LXXXII.— A COACHMAN WHO LOVES HIS MASTER'S SON.

AND little Charles, who had already been more than a dozen times to the
coachman, to desire him to make haste and get the coach ready, ran again to the
stables and called out: "We have done dinner, Francis! Put to. and drive
round to the door, directly."

" You are mistaken, young master ; I heard the dinner-bell ring just now."

Charles. "How dare you say I am mistaken? I will not bear that, old
moustache ! "

Francis. " Hold, my boy ! I will teach you to call me moustache ! I will
plait the horses' tails and manes, and put on the ribands and the rosettes, and
that will take me an hour — and, if you say another word, I will tell your papa
that Herod is ill — See -how he shakes his head! And t"ien he will leave the

632 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

black horses in the stable and take the little carriage, and you can not go with
him."

Charles. "No, no, Francis! Stop — don't begin to plait their manes. I love
you, Francis! and will not call you moustache any more."

Francis. "You must give me a kiss then, Charles, in my beard; or I will
take the ribands and plait them."

Charles. "No, don't do so, pray."

•\Yliy did you call me moustache? You must kiss me, or I will
not drive the Murk horses."

Charles. - Well, then, if I must! But you will get the coach ready very soon
then."

Francis put down the curry-comb, lifted up the boy, who kissed him; said:
"There's a good little fellow! " — put tlie horses to the coach, and drove quickly
round to the hall-door.

Arner was sitting with his wife and children, and Charles begged his papa to
let him ride upon the coach-box with Francis. "It is so hot and crowded
inside."

"With all my heart," said Arner; and called out to Francis: "Take good
care of him."

CHAPTER LXXXIM. — THE SQUIRE WITH HIS WORKMEN.

AND Francis drove his spirited horses fast, and was soon on the plain near
Bonnal, where the men were breaking stones.

Then Arner got out of the coach, to look at their work, and he found all the
men in their right places.

They had got on with their work very well for the time.

And Arner praised the regularity and good appearance of the work, in a
manner which convinced the dullest amongst them, that the slightest irregularity
or neglect would not have escaped him.

Leonard was very glad of this, for he thought within himself, now they will
all see that it is impossible for me to allow any carelessness or neglect.

Arner asked the master which was IJubel Rudi; and, at the moment Leon-
ard pointed him out, poor Rudi, who was pale and evidently very weak, was
raising a very heavy stone with his iron crow. Arner called out immediately :
"Do not overwork yourselves, my good fellows; and take care not to do your-
selves an injury." Then he ordered the master to give them each a glass of
wine, and went toward Bonnal.

CHAFFER LXXXIV. — A SQUIRE AND A PASTOR, WHO HAVE EQUALLY KIND HEARTS.

HE soon saw the good pastor coming to meet him, and the squire ran quickly
toward him, and called out : " You should not have troubled yourself to come
out such weather as this? It is not right, with your delicate health; " and he
then went into the house with him.

There he told him the whole history of the poulterer, and then said: "I have
some business to transact, but will be quick about it, that we may enjoy a couple
of hours quietly together."

He sent immediately for young Meyer, and said to the pastor: "The first
step shall be to seal up all the bailiff's accounts and books of reckoning; for I
am resolved to know who are concerned with him, and he shall settle with them,
all, in my presence."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 533

l'»xtor. "By doin^r this, you \vill get to know a great deal about the people-
>f the village."

Squire. " And, as I hope, find out the way to put an end to a great deal of
domestic unhappiness; if I can by this means make it clear and erident to every
man how irrevocably people ruin themselves when they get ever so little into
tl» 'lit to such grasping men as the bailiff. In my opinion, my gx)d friend, the
la\vs do too little against this ruinous practice."

Pastor. " No law can do so much to counteract it, as the paternal kindness
of the lord of a manor."

CHAPTER LXXXV. — THE SQUIRE'S FEELINGS TOWARD HIS GUILTY BAILIFF.

A s they were speaking, young Meyer arrived, and Arner said to him : " Meyer,
I mean to dismiss my bailiff; but, notwithstanding his offenses, some circum-
stances lead me to wish him to receive, for life, a part of the emolument of his
office. You are well off in the world, Meyer! and I think, if I were to make
you bailiff, you would willingly allow the old man a hundred florins yearly, out
of your salary."

Meyer. '• If your honor thinks me equal to the situation, I shall wish in this,
as to every other respect, to do according to your pleasure."

Arner. " Well then, Meyer, come to me to Arnburg to-morrow, and I will
arrange this business. For the present, I will only tell you that you must take
my secretary and Abi, who is a qualified man, with you, and seal up all Hum-
mel's writings and accounts. You must carefully see after it, that not one of
his papers or accounts be secreted."

Immediately young Meyer and the squire's secretary took Abi with them, and
sealed up the bailiff's papers. His wife went with a wet sponge toward the
chalked board ; but Meyer saw her, and hindered her from touching it, and had
a copy of it taken immediately.

And Meyer, the secretary, and Abi, wondered to see on the board : "On
Saturday, 18th, to Joseph, Leonard's man, three crowns." " What was this for ? "
said they to the bailiff and his wife ; but they gave them no answer.

And when the men arrived at the parsonage-house, with the copy of the
board, the squire also wondered at the three crowns, and asked the men if they
knew the meaning of it.

"We inquired, but nobody would give us an answer," replied the men.

"I will soon find it out," said the squire. "When Flink and the gaoler come,
tell them to bring the bailiff and Hans Wust here."

CHAPTER LXXXVI. — THE PASTOR AGAIN SHOWS HIS KINDNESS OF HEART.

THE good pastor had no sooner heard this, than he slipped out of the room,
went to the tavern, and said to the bailiff: "For God's sake what is the meaning
of these three crowns to Joseph ? It will be a double misfortune to thee, if
thou dost not tell me. The squire is angry about it."

Then the bailiff sorrowfully confessed to the pastor, the whole affair about
Joseph and the money.

And the pastor went immediately back to Arner, and told him all, and how
penitently the bailiff had owned it to him ; and he again entreated the squire to
be merciful toward this unhappy man.

" Be not uneasy, my good friend ! You may depend upon finding me humane
and compassionate toward him." said Arner.

VJ34 I.KONAHl) AND GERTRUDE.

He then had Joseph taken from his work, and brought before him, with "Wust
and the bailiff.

The bailiff trembled like an aspen leaf. "Wust appeared very sorrowful, but
composed and patient.

But Joseph was in a rage, and said to the bailiff: " Thou old wretch, this is all
thy fault."

Aruer had the prisoners brought, one after the other, into the inner
room of the parsonage-house, and there he examined them, in the pres-
ence of Meyer, Abi, and the attorney. And when the secretary had writ-
ten down their depositions, word for word, and read them over to the.
prisoners, and these had again repeated and confirmed them, he had them all
brought to the place where the parish-meetings are held, under the lime-trees,
and ordered the bell to be rung, to assemble all the people.

CHAPTER LXXXVII. — ON A CHEERFUL DISPOSITION, AND ON GHOSTS.

BUT before this, the squire went for a few moments into the other room, to the
pastor, and said: "I will take a draught of something to refresh me, my good
friend. For I mean to be merry with the people. It is the best way to con-
vince them of any thing."

"Nothing is more certain," said the pastor.

And the squire made him pledge him, and said : " I wish all clergymen would
learn thus to go amongst the people in a straight-forward, unceremonious man-
ner. When people see a man good-humored, and with an open, unrestrained
manner, they are half won already."

"Alas, sir! " said the pastor, "this cheerfulness, and open, unrestrained man-
ner, are exactly what we are least allowed to practice."

Squire. "It is a misfortune, belonging to your situation, reverend sir."

Pastor. " You are quite right. None should go amongst the people with a
more unrestrained, cheerful, open manner, than the ministers of religion. They
should be the friends of the people, and known to be such. They should be in-
fluenced by a regard to them in their speech, and in their silence. They should
carefully consider their words, and yet dispense them freely, benevolently, and
to the purpose, like their Master. But, alas ! they form themselves in other
schools, and we must have patience, squire. In all situations of life, there are
many impediments to the practice of what is simple and natural."

Squire. "It is true. In all ranks people wander continually further and
further from the path they should follow. Much time, which ought to be em-
ployed upon important duties, is wasted upon ceremonies and nonsense : and
there are few men who, under the burthen of forms of etiquette and pedantry,
preserve due attention to their duties, and to the really important objects of
their lives, as you have done, my dear friend. But, by your side, it is my delight
and joy to feel it my happy destination to act the part of a father, and I will en-
deavor to fulfill it with a pure heart, and, like you, with as little of the ceremony
and nonsense of the world as possible."

Pastor. " You make me ashamed, my dear sir."

Squire. " I feel what I say ! but the bell will soon ring. I am impatient for
the comedy at the parish-meeting. I do expect, this time, to cure them of some
of their superstitions."

Pastor. " May God grant you success ! This superstition of theirs, interferes
with the good one seeks to do them."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

635

Squire. "I find, from my own experience, that it often makes them very
-stupid, timid, and irresolute."

Pastor. "It warps a man's understanding, and has a bad effect upon all he
does, and says, and thinks. And, what is still worse, it injures his heart, and
nardens it with pride and uncharitableness."

Squire. " Yery true. There is a wide distinction between the pure simplicity
of nature, and the blind stupidity of superstition."

Pastor. "Yes. The uncorrupted simplicity of nature is alive to every im-
pression of truth and virtue: it is like a blank tablet. But the stupidity of
superstition is like melted ore, incapable of receiving any impression, except
from fire and flame. And now that you have introduced the subject of this dis-
tinction, which is of so much importance to me, in my avocation, will you per-
mit me to say a few more words about it ? "

Squire. " Pray do. The subject is very interesting to me."

Pastor. "Man, in the uncorrupted simplicity of his nature, knows little; but
what he does know, is well arranged. His attention is firmly and steadily
directed toward what is useful and comprehensible to him. He does not seek
to know what he can neither comprehend nor turn to use. But the stupidity of
superstition has no clear arrangement in its knowledge. It boasts of knowing
what it neither knows nor comprehends; it persuades itself that the disorder of
its ideas is heavenly illumination, and that the fleeting splendor of its airy
bubbles is divine light and wisdom.

" The simple innocence of nature, makes use of all the senses, judges nothing
inconsiderately, examines every thing quietly and attentively, endures opposi-
tion, earnestly seeks and desires what is necessary, not what is mere matter of
speculation, and conducts itself peacefully, gently, kindly, and benevolently.
But superstition believes in contradiction to its own senses, and to the senses of
mankind ; never rests but in the triumph of its own obscurity, and rages rudely,
wildly, and unfeelingly, wherever it exists.

" Man, in a state of simplicity, is guided by his uncorrupted heart, upon which
he can always depend; and by his senses, which he uses peacefully.

"But the superstitious man is guided by his opinions, to which he sacrifices
his feelings, his senses, and often his God, his country, his neighbor, and himself."

Squire. " Every page of history confirms the truth of your statement ; and
a very small share of experience and knowledge of the world, is sufficient to
convince any man that hardness of heart and superstition are inseparable com-
panions, and always followed by pernicious and grievous consequences."

Pastor. "From this essential difference between the simplicity of the honest,
unprejudiced man, and the stupidity of the superstitious man, it appears that the
best method of opposing superstition, is: 'In educating the poor, to ground their
Knowledge of the truth upon the pure feelings of innocence and love ; and to
turn their attention chiefly to the surrounding objects which interest them in
.their individual situations.' "

Squire. " I understand you, my good friend ! and I think, with you, that by
.this means superstition and prejudice would lose their sting, their hurtfulness,
and their accordance with the passions and desires of wicked hearts, and with
*he groundless terrors and weak fancies of a busy, speculative knowledge.

" And thus all that would remain of prejudice and superstition would be but
^empty words, and shades of things without inward poison, and these would dio
away of themselves."

630 I.DONAKI) AM) GERTIUJDl-:.

1'ns'nr. '; It appears to me in the same light. The education of the
should he founded upon clear ideas, surrounding ohjects, and the cautious develop-
ment of the impulses of human nature; because these are, undoubtedly, the
foundation of true human wisdom.

"To fix the attention strongly upon speculative opinions and distant objects,
and feebly upon our duties, our actions, and the objects which surround us, is to
create disorder in the soul of man. It leads to ignorance about our most im-
portant affairs, and to a foolish predilection for information and knowledge, which
do not concern us.

"Roughness and hardness of heart are the natural consequences of all pride
and presumption ; and the source of the inward poison of superstition and prej-
udice is clearly derived from this: that in the education of the people, their at-
tention is not steadily turned to the circumstances and objects around them,
which have a strong and near relation to their individual situation, and would
lead their hearts to pure and tender feelings of humanity upon all occasions.

" If people sought thus to instruct them, as earnestly and zealously as they
do to teach them particular opinions, superstition would be torn up by the roots,
and deprived of all its power; but I feel daily, more and more, how little we are-
advanced in this good work."

Squire. " In the wrorld all is comparative!}' true, or not true. There have
been rude tunes — times when a man who did not believe in ghosts was esteemed
a heretic; times when a man was obliged, on pain of forfeiting his rights and
his situation of judge, to order old women to the rack, to make them confess
their dealings with the devil."

Pastor. "God be praised, those times are gone by; but much of the old
leaven still remains."

Squire. "Yet, be of good cheer, my friend! One stone after another falls
away from the temple of superstition ; and it would be well if people were only
as zealous to build up the temple of God, as they are to overthrow that of
superstition ! "

Pastor. "There again we are wanting: and this checks and destroys my
rejoicing in the attacks made upon superstition ; because I see that those who>
are so active against it, trouble themselves very little about upholding religion,
the sanctuary of God, in its strength."

Squire "It is too true. But in all revolutions people will always begin by
rejecting good and bad together. They- were in the right to purify the Lord's
temple ; but they will soon perceive that, in their zeal, they have injured the
walls, and then they will return and repair them again."

Pastor. "1 trust it will be so! and, indeed, I see myself that people begin,
to feel that destructive irreligion strikes at the root of human happiness."

Squire. " We must now go ; and I will make one attempt this very day to.
attack superstition, and overthrow the belief in ghosts which exists in Bonnal."

Pastor. " May you be successful ! I have as yet been able to do very little
against it by my arguments and preaching."

Squire. " I will not attempt it by words. My poulterer must spare me that
trouble, with his basket and lantern, his pickaxe and mattock."

Pastor. " I really believe it will succeed admirably. It is certain that, wheii
people know well how to turn such accidents to advantage, they may do more
by means of them in a moment, than they can in half a century by all
of eloquence."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

63,

CHAPTER LXXXVIII. — ON GHOSTS, IN A DIFFERENT TONE.

IN the mean time the country people were all assembled at the place of meet-
ng. Yesterday's .adventure, and the report of the prisoners, brought them to-
gether in crowds. The alarming appearance of the devil had greatly agitated
'them, and they had already, early that morning, taken council together what was
to be done under the circumstances, and had come to a resolution that the pas •
tor ought no longer to be allowed to teach and preach so incredulously, and to
laugh at all stories of ghosts. They determined to request Hartknopf, the
church- warden, to make a proposal to this effect at the meeting ; but young
Meyer was against this, and said: "I can not agree that the old miser, who
starves his own children, and is constantly hunting about for all sorts of refuse,
should speak for us. It will be an eternal shame for us to appoint such a
hypocrite."

The men answered: "We know well enough that he is a hypocrite and a
miser, and we know that the way in which he and his maid-servant live together
is scandalous. It is true, also, that we have not such a liar amongst us, nor one
who encroaches so much upon his neighbor's land, or clears his field so carefully
at harvest-time ; but then, there is not one of us who can talk to a minister, or
discuss spiritual matters, as he can. If you can tell us of any one, who will do
it only half so well, we will be content." But Meyer knew of nobody.

So the men made their request to the church- warden, in these words: "Hart-
knopf, you are the man amongst us who best knows how to answer a clergy-
man ; and when the squire holds the meeting to-day, we wish you to make a
complaint against the pastor, on account of his unbelief, and to ask for the ap-
pointment of a day of prayer, on account of the fearful appearance of Satan.''

They did not talk to him publicly about this, but the cleverest amongst them
explained the business to him ; for the pastor had many friends amongst the
poorer part of them. Some of the richer country people disliked him the more
on this account, particularly since he had maintained, in one of his morning dis-
courses, that it was not right in them to oppose the division of a waste com-
mon, which the squire had proposed for the advantage of the poor.

The church- warden Hartknopf, accepted the appointment, and said: "You
have given me rather late notice of this, but I will study the proposition ; " and
he went away to his own house, and thought over what he had to say, from
morning until evening, when the bell rang for the meeting. When those who
were in the plot were all assembled together, they wondered why he did not
join them, and could not imagine what kept him away. Then Nickel Spit/,
said: " He is only waiting till you go in form to fetch him."

"What is to be done?" said the men. "We must e'en do as the simpleton
wishes, or he will not come."

So they sent three of their officers to fetch him ; and these soon returned with
him.

The churchwarden saluted the people, with as much dignity as if he had been
a pastor; and, with great importance and gravity, assured all those who had
entered into the agreement, that he had now studied the proposition.

In the mean time, Arner had told the poulterer that, when he made a signal,
by taking a large white handkerchief out of his pocket, he must eome forth, and
do all that they had agreed upon together.

,338 LEONARD AM) GERTRUDE.

Then he went with the pastor and the secretary to the meeting.

All the people stood up, and welcomed the worthy squire and the reverend
pastor.

Arner thanked them with paternal kindness, and then told the men to sit
down upon benches, that all might be done in proper order.

Theresa and the pastor's wife, and the children and servants, from the hall and
the parsonage-house, stood in the churchyard, from whence they could see what
passed at the meeting.

Arner now ordered the prisoners to be brought forth, one after the other, and
their depositions to be read in their presence.

And when they had confirmed them before the meeting, he told the bailiff to
kneel down and hear his sentence, and addressed him as follows: —

CHAPTER LXXXIX. — A JUDGMENT.

"UNHAPPY MAN!

" It grieves me to the heart, to pronounce against thee, in thy old age, the
doom which must follow evil deeds like thine. Thou hast deserved death; not
because Hubel Rudi's meadow or my landmark are worth a man's life, but be-
cause perjury and daring robbery bring innumerable dangers and evils upon a
country.

" The perjured man and the robber becomes a murderer, when circumstances
tempt him to it ; and is already a murderer in many senses, through the conse-
quences of the error, suspicion, distress, and misery, which lie occasions.

" Therefore, thou hast deserved death.

"I will, however, spare thy life, in consideration of thy old age, and because
a part of thy crimes were committed against myself, individually.

" This is thy punishment : —

" Thou si i alt this day, in the presence of appointed persons and of all who
wish to accompany thee, be carried to the landmark, and there, in chains, re-
place eveiy thing as it was before

" Thence thou shalt be taken to the village prison, when the pastor will ex
amine thee, for the space of fourteen days, about thy past life, that the causes^
of thy great recklessness and hardness of heart may be clearly and evidently
discerned: and I will myself use my utmost endeavors to discover the circum-
stances which have led thee to these crimes, and which may lead others of my
dependants into similar misfortunes.

" After this fortnight is expired, the pastor will, on the Sunday following,,
openly, before the whole community, relate the history of thy past life, of the
disorders of thy house, thy hardness of heart, thy contempt of oaths and duties,
and thy way of keeping accounts against the poor and rich — and the whole
must be confirmed by thy own confession.

" I will myself be present ; and, with the assistance of the pastor, will en-
deavor to preserve my dependents from such dangers in future, and to provide
them with assistance and counsel against all such sources and causes of domes-
tic misery.

" And with this I would willingly discharge thee, were my people sufficiently
peaceable and well brought up to follow after the truth and what pertains to
their temporal and eternal welfare, for their own sake, and not from the fear of
severe, painful, and loathsome punishment; but, with so many rude, uncontrolled,
and ooisterous people, as are still amongst us, it is necessary for me to add: —

I EONAR1) AND GERTRUDE. (539,

"That the executioner must conduct thee to-morrow under the gallows at Bon-
aal, and there bind thy right hand to a stake, and mark the first three fingers
with an indelible black stain.

"But it is my express desire, that no man imbitter this thy hour of suffering,
by jest or laughter, or any mark of redicule ; but that, on the contrary, all the
people look on, without noise or speech, and with their heads uncovered."

The squire then condemned Hans Wust to eight days' punishment in prison.
And Joseph, as being a stranger, he immediately expelled from his territories,
and forbade him to labor or to appear upon his land any more, on pain of being
sent to the house of correction.

In the mean time the pastor's god-father, Hans Renold, had secretly told him
what the country people had settled with the church-warden, and that they would
certainly and without doubt attack him on account of his unbelief.

The pastor thanked Renold, and told him, laughingly, not to be uneasy ; the
thing would not end ill.

"This is excellent," said the squire, to whom the pastor told this, "that they
should themselves begin the game : " and, whilst he was speaking, the church-
warden got up and said : —

CHAPTER xc. — THE PROPOSAL OF HARTKNOPF, THE CHURCH-WARDEN.
"HONORED SIR!

" May I be permitted, in the name of your faithful people of Bonnal, to state
to you an affair of conscience?"

Arner answered: "I am ready t< hear. Who are you? "What have you to
say?"

The church- warden replied: "I am Jacob Christopher Frederick Hartknopf,
church-warden and elder of Bonnal, and fifty-six years of age. And the princi-
pal people of the village, being themselves inexperienced and unaccustomed to
speak upon spiritual subjects, have chosen and requested me to lay a statement
before you."

Arner. " Now then, Mr. Church-warden Hartknopf, to the point."

Then the church-warden began again : —
' HONORED SIR !

""We have received from our forefathers a belief that the devil and his spirits
often appear to men ; and, since it is now become very evident that this our old
belief in spirits is true, as indeed we never for a moment doubted it to be, we
are compelled to take the liberty of informing your honor, that our reverend
pastor (may God forgive him,) is not of this belief. "We well know that your
honor is of the same opinion with the pastor on this subject. But since, in
sacred things, we must obey God rather than man, we hope your honor will
forgive our freedom, when we entreat that the reverend pastor may, in future,
teach our children our old belief, about the appearance of the devil, and that he
may say nothing to them against ghosts, in which we believe, and will continue
to believe. It is also our wish, that some Sunday, .at no great distance, may be
fixed upon for a day of fasting, and prayer, and humiliation ; that we may all,
upon an appointed day, penitently implore forgiveness, in dust and ashes, for the
increasing sin of want of belief in spirits."

The squire and the pastor, though they were scarcely able to restrain their
laughter till he had finished, yet heard him with all possible patience.

But the country people rejoiced in their hearts over this discourse, and re-

040 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

solved to accompany this able orator home, by hundreds, though they had sent
only three to fetch him.

They now rose up on all sides, and said: " Honored sir! we all agree in what
the church- warden has declared."

But the poor, and all those who loved the pastor, were very sorry and grieved
about it, and said here and there to each other: "If he had only the luck to
believe like other people — he is such an excellent man ! " But these durst not
speak out. so that his enemies triumphed.

CHAPTER xci.— THE SQUIRE'S REPLY.

THE squire took off his hat, looked earnestly around him, and said : —

"Neighbors! you had no need of an orator for such nonsense as this. Trie
whole affair, and the appearance of the devil, is all a mistake ; and your pastor
is one of the wisest of ministers. You ought to be ashamed of insulting torn
through such a poor blockhead as your church-warden. If you had a proper
regard for his learning and judgment, you would be wiser, lay aside your belief
in old women's tales, and not seek to restrain intelligent people to foolish opin-
ions, which are entirely without foundation."

Here the country people all exclaimed : " But it was only last night that the
•devil appeared to the bailiff, and sought to lay hold of him."

Squire. " You are mistaken, neighbors ; and before supper-time you will be
ashamed of your credulity. But I hope you are not all equally hardened in
your folly. Meyer ! are you also of the opinion, that it is past all doubt that it
was the devil who frightened the bailiff so terribly upon the hill? "

Young Meyer answered: "What do I know about the matter, your honor? "

The church-warden and many of the men were angry at Meyer for answer-
ing thus.

And the church- warden muttered over the bench to him : " How canst thou
talk so against thy knowledge and conscience, Meyer ? " But many of the men
exclaimed: "We all heard the horrible voice of the pursuing devil."

Squire. "I know very well that you heard a shout, and a roaring, and a
rattling. But how can you tell that all this was the devil ? Might it not be a
man, or several men, who, unluckily for the bailiff, who seems to have been
there at an improper time, wished to frighten him ? The wood is scarcely ever
without somebody in it, and the high road is near, so that it may as easily have
been men as the devil."

Countrymen. " Twenty or thirty men could not have made such a noise ; and,
if your honor had been there and heard it, you would never have thought of its
being men."

Squire. " Night is deceitful, neighbors ! and, when people are once frightened,
they see and hear double."

Countrymen. "It is of no use to talk of being mistaken. It is impossible."

Squire. "But I tell you it is altogether certain that you were mistaken."

Countrymen. "No, please your honor, it is entirely certain that we were not
mistaken."

Squire. " I have a great notion I could convince you that you were mis-
taken."

Countrymen. " We should like to see that, your honor."

Squire. " Many things would be more difficult."

Countrymen. " Your honor is joking."

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 641

Sqmre. ''No, I am not joking. If you think I can not do it, I will try.
And if you will agree to divide the common, I will perform my promise, and
convince you that all the roaring and rattling was made by one man."
Countrymen. " That is impossible."

Squire. " Will you venture it ? "

Countrymen. "Yes, sir, we will! We durst venture two commons upon it,
that you will not be able to prove this."

Here there arose a murmur amongst the countrymen. Some of them said :
" People should take care what they promise." Others replied: "He can no
more prove this, than that the devil will go to heaven 1 " Others again said : " We
have nothing to fear; he must give it up. We will venture; he can never
prove it."

Countrymen (aloud.) "Yes, squire; if you will keep your word; speak on.
We are content that if you can prove what you say, that one man made the
noise we heard yesterday, we will divide the common. That is to say, if you
-can prove it entirely to our satisfaction ; not otherwise."

The squire took out a large white handkerchief, gave the poulterer the signal,
#nd said to the men: " I must have a quarter of an hour for preparation. "

The people smiled all around, and said: "Till to-morrow, squire, if you will."

The squire said not a word in answer to their rudeness ; but those who were
in the churchyard, and could see the poulterer approaching the place of meeting,
laughed heartily.

The men anticipated some mischance when they heard the bursts of laughter,
and saw the stranger, with his dark basket and lantern, drawing near.

" What fool is this, who walks with a lighted lantern in broad daylight ? "
said they.

Arner answered : " It is my poulterer from Arnheim 1 " and called out to him :
" Christopher, what is your business here ? "

" I have a tale to tell, please your honor."

" With all my heart," answered Arner.

Then the poulterer set down his basket, and said : —

CHAPTER xcn. — SPEECH OF THE POULTERER TO THE MEETING.

"HONORED sir, reverend pastor, and you neighbors, here are the pickaxe, the
mattock, the spade, the brandy-bottle, the tobacco-pipe, and the cocked hat of your
bailiff, which, in his fright, he left by the landmark last night, when I drove him
away from his work on the hill."

Countrymen. "And are we to believe that it was you who made all. the noise ?
That can never be. The proof is not sufficient ; we beg for another."

Squire. " Wait a little longer. He has a lantern by his side. Perhaps it may
enlighten you a little." And then he added, loudly and very seriously : " Be silent,
if you please, till he has finished what he has to say."

The men obeyed.

Then the poulterer continued : " You are not so civil as people usually are in this
country. Why don't you let me finish ? Remember the poulterer of Arnheim.
If you do not hear every word I have to say, the next newspaper will be full
of you ; for there is not a syllable of truth in the devil's having appeared to the
bailiff. It was I who frightened him ! I, the poulterer, just as I now stand before
yc'i, with this basket, and this new black goat-skin, which I had put over my
basket, because it rained yesterday, and I had hung the lantern before the basket,

41

$42 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

as you saw it when I came here. I filled it full of oil at Hirzau, that it might
buru well ; for it was very dark, and the road, as you well know, is bad near
Hirzau. At eleven o'clock I was in the tavern at Hirzau. I can bring the land-
lord, and at least ten men more, who were there, to prove this. As I came over
the top of the hill, it struck twelve at Bonnal ; and then I heard the bailiff, not half
a stone's throw from the high-road, swearing and working away ; and, as I knew
him immediately by his voice and his swearing, I began to wonder what he was
doing there at that hour of night. I half suspected that he was searching for
hidden treasures, and that he might share them with me if I hit the right time.
I followed the noise. But the bailiff, it seems, had yesterday, contrary to his
usual custom, drunk rather more than was necessary ; for, the moment he beheld
me, he took me — a poor sinful man — for the devil in a bodily form ! and when.
I saw that he was about removing a landmark in our master's wood. I thought to
myself : come, he deserves to be frightened. I will make him think hell is gaping
for him ! So I bound the mattock, pickaxe, spade, and my walking-stick, all to-
gether, dragged them down the hill, over the stones, after me, and shouted out.
with all my might: Oh! — Ah! — Uh! — bai — lift'! — thou art mine! Hum — mel!-
And I was not more than a stone's throw from you, when you crept out softly and
cautiously with your torches, to the bailiffs assistance. But as I had no wish to-
frighten innocent folks with making a noise so near them, I gave over, and went
up the hill again, with my booty, to my basket, and then took the nearest way
home. It was a quarter past two when our watchman met me, and asked why
I was carrying workmen's tools upon my egg-basket.

" I forget what I answered, but certainly nothing to the purpose ; for I did not
wish to say any thing of it, till I had told the squire my story ; which I did at six
o'clock this morning.

" And now, neighbors, how do you think 1 could come by this story and these
tools so early, if what I tell you is not true ? "

Some of the countrymen scratched their heads, others laughed.

The poulterer continued: "If such a thing should happen to you again, neigh-
bore, let me just, in a friendly way, advise the watchman, the authorities, and
all the honorable commonalty of Bonnal, to let loose the greatest dog in the village,
and he will soon discover the devil."

The poulterer here ceased, and there was a general murmur on every side.

CHAPTER xcm. — THE POOR ARE GAINERS BY THE COMEDY.

Some countrymen. "It is as he says, by G — ! all the circumstances agree."

Other countrymen. " What a set of fools we were."

Kunz. "I wanted to run after the rogue."

Some of the leaders. " If we had only not staked the common upon it."

The rich countrymen. " This is a cursed business."

The poor. " Heaven be praised for it."

Theresa. "The master-stroke of all, is getting the common divided."

Pastor's wife. " The whole is a master-stroke."

The church-warden. " It is enough to make the very stones weep blood ! Our
belief is lost for ever. Elias ! Elias! Fire from heaven."

The children (from the churchyard.) " Thou art mine !— Oh !— Ah !— Uh I—
bailiff! "

The pastor. " I never saw the people so much moved."

Tlie bailiff. " Am I in a dream, or awake? All was a mistake, and I nutst gx>

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 643

under the gallows. And yet I feel no anger; no desire of vengeance rages
within me."

Thus in a general murmur did every man speak according to his own
feelings.

After a while Arner stood up, smiled, and said : " How are you now inclined
about the fast-day, on account of the fearful appearance of the devil upon the
hill?"

Do what is right ! Love God !

And fear God. but neither man nor devil.

This is the old and true belief; and your stories of apparitions and spirits are idle
follies, which ruin your heads and hearts.

"Now at last the division of your common is agreed upon, and you will find,
in a few years, how useful and beneficial it will be to your children and grand-
children, and how much reason I had to wish for it so earnestly. I have ordered
some drink to be brought to you. Drink it to my health, and to the health of
your numerous poor, who, in the division of the common, will receive no more
than the rest ; but to whom it will be a treasure, because they have nothing
besides. There is not one of you who knows how much his children may stand
in need of it."

Then Arner left the meeting, and told Hubel Rudi to follow him, in a quarter
of an hour, to the parsonage-house.

And the squire and the pastor went to their wives in the churchyard, and after--
ward, with them, to the parsonage-house.

The pastor praised Arner for the wisdom and humanity with which he had
treated his flock, and said to him : "I shall never again urge you to show forbear-
ance and compassion toward any body, for your own benevolent heart has ex-
ceeded all I could have asked or advised."

CHAPTER xciv. — THE SQUIRE THANKS THE PASTOR.

THE squire replied : " Say no more, my dear friend, I beseech you. I go straight-
to the point, and am as yet young and without experience. But, with God's assist-
ance, I hope to learn how to manage things better. I am truly rejoiced that you
approve of my decisions. But you must not imagine that I am not aware that,
your exertions have been much greater than mine, and that your care and kind-
ness had prepared every thing, so that little remained for me, but to pronounce
the sentence."

Pastor. " My dear sir, you go too far! "

Squire. "No, my friend. It is the simple truth, and I should be indeed un-
thankful and unjust, if I did not acknowledge it. You have labored with great
care and intelligence to throw light upon my dear grandfather's inconsiderate
decisions, and to put an end to their consequences. That good and upright man
will rejoice, in heaven, over what you have done, and that the evil has at last
been remedied ; and he certainly would not forgive me, if I were to leave your
goodness unrewarded. Here are the deeds of a small piece of land in your vil-
lage, which I hope you will accept as a testimony of my gratitude."

Thus saying, he gave him a sealed deed of gift, which was expressed with the
greatest warmth of gratitude.

Theresa stood by Arner's side, and presented the pastor with the most beau-
tify! nosegay ever seen in a parsonage-house.

"This is in remembrance of the best of grandfathers, reverend sir,'1 said she.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

And in the morning the pastor's wife discovered, for the first time, that it was
bound together by a string of pearls.

The good pastor was much overcome: tears filled his eyes, and he could
not speak.

"Say not a word about it." added the squire.

" Your heart is worthy of a kingdom I " said the pastor at last.

"Do not make me blush, my dear sir," answered the squire. " Be my friend;
and, hand in hand, let us strive to make our people as happy as we can. I hope
to see more of you in future, and you will come more to me, will you not ? My
carriage is always at your service. Send for it, without ceremony, whenever
you like to come to me."

CHAPTER xcv. — THE SQUIRE ASKS FORGIVENESS FROM A POOR MAN, WHOM HIS

GRANDFATHER HAD INJURED.

IN the mean time Hubel Rudi arrived, and the squire held out his hand to the
poor man, and said : " Rudi ! my grandfather did you injustice, and deprived you
of your meadow by his decision. It was a misfortune. He was deceived. You
must forgive him, and not bear malice against him."

Rudi answered: "Alas! your honor! I knew very well that it was not his
fault."

" Did you never hate him for it?" said the squire.

Rudi. "In my poverty, and particularly at first, I was indeed often very
much troubled that I had not the meadow any longer ; but I never felt hatred
toward his honor."

Squire. " Is this really true, Rudi ? "

Rudi. " It is, indeed, your honor ! God knows that it is, and that I never
could feel angry with him. I knew in my heart that it was not his fault. What
could he do, when the bailiff found false witnesses, who swore an oath against
me ? The good old squire, whenever he saw me afterward, gave me money, and
on all holidays sent me meat, and bread, and wine. May God reward him for
it. It often cheered me in my poverty."

Rudi had tears in his eyes, and continued: "Alas! your honor! if he had
only talked with us, by ourselves, as you do, many, very many things would
never have happened ; but the bloodsuckers were always by his side, whenever
we saw him, and that spoiled all."

Squire. " You must forget this now, Rudi. The meadow is again yours. I
have effaced the bailiff's name from the deed, and I wish you joy of it with all
my heart, Rudi ! "

Rudi trembled, and stammered out: "I can not enough thank your
honor."

The squire said : " You have nothing to thank me for, Rudi. The meadow is
yours by the laws of God and man."

Rudi clasped his hands together, wept aloud, and said : " 0, my mother's bless-
ing is upon me ! She died on Friday, your honor ! and before she died, she said
to me : 'All will go well with thee, Rudi. Think of me, Rudi ! ' 0, sir, I am
so grieved for my dear mother ! "

The squire and the pastor were much affected, and the squire said : " God's
blessing will indeed be upon you, good and pious man."

" 0, sir 1 it is owing to my mother's blessing ! The blessing of the most relig-
ious, patient woman," said Rudi, weeping.

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 545

" How troubled I am, pastor, that this man should have been so long kept out
of his right," said the squire.

" It is all over now, sir ! " said Rudi, " and suffering and want are blessings
from God, when they are gone through. But I can not sufficiently thank you
for all ; for the work at the church, which cheered and comforted my mother on
her death-bed ; and then for the meadow. I know not what I ought to say or
do, sir. 0 ! if she had only lived to see it ! "

Squire. "You are an excellent man, and she will rejoice in your welfare,
even in heaven. Your sorrow and your filial love have affected me so much,
that I had almost forgotten to tell you, that the bailiff is bound to pay you
arrears, with costs."

Pastor. " Permit me, sir, here to speak a word to Rudi. The bailiff is in
very straitened circumstances. He is, indeed, bound to pay you arrears, with
costs, Rudi. But I know that you are too kind-hearted to push him to the
uttermost, and to bring him to beggary in his old age. I promised, in his afflic-
tion, to do all I could to obtain mercy and compassion for him, and I must per-
form my promise now. Rudi, have pity upon his distress."

CHAPTER xcvi. — GENEROSITY OP A POOR MAN TOWARD HIS ENEMY.

Rudi. " Say not a word about the arrears, reverend sir ; they are out of the
question : and, if the bailiff is so poor — I don't like to seem to boast — but I will
certainly do what is right toward him.

" The meadow will furnish hay for more than three cows ; and, if I keep
two out of it, I shall have enough and more than I durst hope for; and I
will willingly let the bailiff have enough to keep one cow, as long as he
lives."

Pastor. " It is acting generously, and like a Christian, Rudi ; and God will
grant his blessing upon the remainder."

Arner. " This is all well and good, my dear sir. But we must not take the
good fellow at his word, now. He is overcome by his joy. I admire you for
your offer, Rudi ; but consider the thing over quietly for a day or two. It will
be time enough to promise, when you are sure you will not repent."

Rudi. " I am but a poor man, your honor ; but not so poor as to repent
having promised to do what is right."

Pastor. " The squire is right, Rudi. It is enough for the present that you
will not exact the arrears. If you find that the bailiff is in want; when you
have well considered the thing, you can do what you like."

Rudi. " If the bailiff' is in want, I am sure I shall wish to do as I have said,
your reverence."

Squire. " Well, Rudi, I want this to be a happy, cheerful day for you.
"Would you rather stay and rejoice with us here, or go home to your children ?
I will take care that you have a good supper in either place."

Rudi. " Your honor is very good ! but I wish to go home to my children.
There is nobody to take care of them. Alas ! my wife is in her grave — and mj
mother also."

Squire. " Then go home to your children, Rudi. In the pastor's cow-houser
below, you will find a cow, which I give you to reconcile you to my dear grand-
father, who did you wrong ; and that you may this day rejoice over his memory,
with your children. I have also ordered a quantity of hay to be carried from
the bailiff's barn, for it is yours. You will find it at home; and, if your cottagp

646 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

or your cow-house want repairs, take what wood is necessary out of my
forest."

CHAPTER xcvu. — HIS GRATITUDE TO THE SQUIRE.

RUDI knew not what to say, he was so completely overcome ; and this joyful
confusion, which could not utter a word, pleased Arner more than any expres-
sion of thanks.

At last Rudi stammered out a few words, but Arner interrupted him, and
said, smiling: "I see that you are grateful, Rudi." He then again shook him
by the hand, and added: "Go, now, Rudi. Drive home your cow, and depend
upon my help ; whenever I can be of service to you in any way, it will always
be a pleasure to me."

Then Rudi left Arner, and drove home the cow.

I

CHAPTER xcvm. — A SCENE TO TOUCH THE HEART.

THE pastor, and all who were present, had tears in their eyes, and remained
silent for some moments after the man left the room.

At last Theresa exclaimed: "What an evening this has been ! How fair is
creation, and with what pleasure and joy does the face of nature inspire us ; but
human happiness is more delightful than all the beauties of earth ! "

"Yes, my love, it surpasses all earthly beauties," said the squire.

The pastor added: "I thank you, from my heart, sir, for the touching scenes
you have brought before us. Throughout the course of my life, I never met
with purer and nobler greatness of soul than in the deed of this man. But it is
most certain that the purest elevation of the human heart, is to be sought for
amongst the unfortunate and distreased."

The pastor's wife pressed her children, who were much affected, to her heart,
bent over them, and wept in silence.

After a while, the children said to her: "Let us go and see his poor children,
and send them our supper."

And the pastor's wife said to Theresa: "Will you like to go with the chil-
dren?"

"Very willingly," answered Theresa. And the squire and the pastor ex-
pressed their wish to accompany them.

Arner had brought a roasted quarter of veal in the carriage with him, for tlie
poor family ; and the pastors wife had added to this some good nourishing hrotli,
and given orders for it to be taken to them : but now she sent also her own and
the children's supper, and Glaus carried all to the poor man's cottage.

All the villagers, young and old, men, women, and children, were collected at
Rudi's door, and round the hay-cart and the fine cow.

Glaus was followed almost immediately by the squire and his lady, the pastor's
wife, and all the children. They went into the room and found nothing but
sickly, half-naked children, the pictures of hunger and want. All were much
affected by the distress of the family ; and Arner said to his companions : " Yet
this very man is now willing to give the bailiff, who has been the cause of all
this misery for so many years, a third part of the hay from his meadow ! "

"It ought not to be allowed," said Theresa, hastily, in the warmth of her
compassion for so much distress. " This man, with all his children, ought not
to be allowed to give a farthing of what belongs to him to that wicked wretch."

" But, my love, would you set bounds to the course of that virtue and

LEONARD AND GERTRUDE. 647

•magnanimity which God has raised, through suffering and want, to such a
height ? — a height which has so deeply affected your own heart, and forced tears
from you ? "

" No, not for worlds," answered Theresa. " Let him give all he has, if he will.
God will never forsake such a man ! "

Arner then said to Rudi: "Give your children something to eat."

But Rudeli pulled his father by the arm, and whispered in his ear : " Father,
may I take Gertrude something ? "

" Yes," said Rudi ; " but wait a little."

Arner had heard the word Gertrude, and asked what the little fellow was
saying about her.

Then Rudi told him about the stolen potatoes, and his mother's death-bed;
and the goodness of Leonard and Gertrude, and that the very shoes and stock-
ings he had on came from them ; adding : " This is a blessed day for me, your
honor ! but I can not enjoy one mouthful, if these people do not come and share
it."

How Arner praised them, and how they all admired the quiet goodness of a
poor mason's wife, and the holy death of Catharine ; and how Rudeli ran with
a beating heart to invite Leonard and Gertrude ; and how they declined till
Arner sent Claus again for them and their children, and then came abashed and
with downcast eyes ; how Charles and Emily begged their papa and mamma to
give them shoes and stockings, and some of their old clothes, for all the chil-
dren, and helped them to the nicest food ; and how kind the pastor's wife was
to them ; and how Rudeli and his sisters were not content till Gertrude came,
and then ran to her, seized hold of her hand, and jumped into her arms. All
this I will not seek to describe by many words.

Arner and Theresa stood for some time gazing on the scene, deepty touched
by the sight of so much misery, which was now cheered and entirely relieved.
At last, with tears in their eyes, they quietly took leave ; and the squire said to
the coachman : " Drive gently for a mile or two."

Leonard and Gertrude remained with Rudi till eight o'clock, joyfully sympa-
thizing in his good fortune.

CHAPTER xcix. — A PLEASING PROSPECT.

FOR the last few weeks, there has been a general report in the village, that
Gertrude wishes to bring about a marriage between Rudi and young Meyer's
sister, who is her dearest friend.

And as Rudi's meadow is worth at least two thousand florins, and it is said
that the squire has told her brother he should rejoice in the match, people sup-
pose she will not refuse him.

The mason goes on extremely well with the building, and the squire likes
him better every day.

CHAPTER c. — THE POULTERER'S REWARD.

THE poulterer came in for his share of good fortune. Theresa saw him, as
they were driving home, and said to Arner: "He should not go unrewarded;
.for, in reality, it was he, and his night journey, which brought all this
-about."

Then Arner called out to the poulterer, and said : " Christopher 1 my wife

048 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

insists upon having you paid for your devil's business : " and hie gave hiiu a
couple of crowns.

The poulterer made a low bow, and said: "Please your honor, I should like
to do such devil's business every day of my life."

"Yes," said Arner; "provided you could be sure of having the dogs kept
well chained up."

"Very true, your honor," said the poulterer; and the carriage drove on.

REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.

THE foregoing pages, although constituting a tale complete in itself, and
the whole work as originally published in 1781, are but about one-fourth
part of " Leonard and Gertrude" as enlarged in subsequent editions.

As introductory to the chapters on the School in Bonnal, which are
the only portion to be given from the remainder of the work, it will not
be improper to give a brief account of all of it.

The first volume of the collected edition of Pestalozzi's works [1818 —
26,] contains all the portion above printed. The story proceeds with a
continuation of Arner's efforts for the improvement of the village, with
the help of the pastor, of Gluelphi, a retired military officer who becomes
schoolmaster, Meyer, a cotton manufacturer, and Gertrude, whose simple
and effective practical methods of managing and instructing her own and
Rudi's children, furnish indispensable patterns to the benevolent and well-
educated but inexperienced gentry.

The school, though a prominent feature in the story, is only one feature.
It includes a combination of measures set on foot by Arner for the moral,
social, and physical improvement of the people of the village, both rich
and poor. The action of the tale consists of the progress of these meas-
ures, and of the opposition to them, resulting from the obstinate adher-
ence of the rich to their long-established habits of oppression and ex-
tortion, and from the low vices of falsehood, hypocrisy, &c., which have
naturally infected the poor.

One of the chief measures undertaken by Arner for ameliorating the
physical condition of the village, is the partition among the landowners
of a certain common, into equal shares for rich and poor ; a scheme
promising material advantage to the latter, and perfectly fair to the former.
This is bitterly opposed by the large landowners, however; and the
clumsy cunning with which they scheme together to prevent the partition,
and the energetic movements of Arner toward the accomplishment of it,
form a very curious and graphic picture of the social life of the villagers
of the period.

The feudal authority possessed by Arner, however, is too great to admit
of any other than underhand and secret methods of opposition to his
various reforms ; and these would necessarily fail at furthest with the
disappearance of the older generation from the scene, and with the gradual
substitution in their places of those growing up under the influence of
the reformatory measures and better education introduced. But the
progress of events renders it proper for Arner to make application to the
government for purposes connected with his plans, and some meddlesome

650 LEONARD AND GERTRUDE.

relatives of his take the opportunity to make unfavorable representations
to a conservative minister, with the design of breaking off his enterprise.
This the minister endeavors to do, from apprehensions of some revolu-
tionary contagion which is to be spread among Arner's peasantr}r, thence
into the vicinity, and thence onward. But no serious injuries ensued ;
and the whole result of Arner's undertaking was, as might be expected,
the beginning of a reform among the younger portion of the community,
and an increased degree of outward propriety among the elder.

The career of Hummel, the bailiff, is somewhat elaborately illustrated
by an episodical history of his previous life. Two sermons by the pastor,
though also digressions from the thread of the story, are not without in-
terest, as giving Pestalozzi's views of what the spirit and methods of
popular education should be. Hummel himself, after undergoing public
punishment, is exhibited at the close of the work, with more truthfulness
than is usual in a story, as relapsing, so far as his failing health and
diminished riches and influence permit, into his old habits of vile language,
swindling, and bullying.

But the story comes to no regular conclusion at the end of the fourth
volume ; — it drops all the threads of the village life, suddenly and without
any gathering together ; although the first volume, which was written a
year or two before the others, they being added to it by after-thought, is
reasonably complete as a work of art.

The following chapters upon the School in Bonnal, are from various
parts of the three last volumes ; and are selected as furnishing, in their
connected succession, a good specimen of the style of the remainder of
the work, and as presenting an exemplification of Pestalozzi's favorite
doctrine of the intimate relation between domestic and school instruction.

THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL."

1. A GOOD SCHOOL is FOUNDED.

SINCE the squire had returned from Cotton Meyer's, he had spent every mo-
ment he could spare with the lieutenant, in consultation with him on the organ-
ization of the new school. They both came to the conclusion that a child is
always well-educated, when he has learned to practice skillfully, orderly, and to
the benefit of him and his, what is to be his future occupation.

This principal object of all education seemed to them at once the first requi-
site of a reasonable school for human beings. And they perceived that the
lieutenant, and any person proposing to establish a good school for farmers' and
factory children, must either himself know and understand what such children
need to know and do, in order to become capable farmers and factory workers ;
or, if he does not himself understand it, that he must inquire and learn about it,
and have those at hand who do know and can show him.

They naturally thought first of Cotton Meyer himself, and immediately after
this conversation, and their meal, they went to him.

" This is the man of whom I have said so much to you," said the squire to the
lieutenant, and then, to Meyer, " And this is a gentleman who, I hope, will en-
courage you about your school."

Meyer did not understand; but the squire explained to him, saying that this
was to be the schoolmaster of the village.

Meyer could not sufficiently wonder at this, and after a time he said, " If the
gentleman is willing to take so much pains, we can not thank him enough ; but
it will require time to become well acquainted with our condition and ways, in
the village."

Lieutenant. "I presume so; but one must begin some time or other ; and I
shall not regret any pains I take to examine as thoroughly as possible what is
needed, and what your children can properly learn, in order to be well-fitted for
their farming and manufacturing."

Meyer. "That will be an excellent beginning."

Lieut. "I do not know how else I ought to begin; and I shall take every
opportunity of becoming acquainted with all manner of house and field labor,
so as to learn correctly what training and what example your children need, in
order to the right education for their vocation and circumstances."

Meyer's Mareieli was quite at home with the lieutenant. She showed him
all about the house, and in the stables, what the children must do, to learn to do
in good order whatever was necessary for themselves and their parents ; made
them dig in the garden and throw earth hither and thither, to even the ground
and improve its appearance, and adjust the edges ; and to scatter fodder cor-
rectly. The more he saw, the more questions he asked; inquired how they

* From Part III. of " Lienhard and Gertrud," as extracted in Christoffel's " Pestalozzi's
'Lije and Views," Zurich, 1847.

652 TIH-: SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

measured hay, reckoned tithes, and kept account of the cotton manufacture ;
what was the difference of wages in different kinds of cotton, and a hundred
other things. These they explained to him as far as they could. Then he pro-
posed to teach the children how to spin. But Mareieli said, " "We take in some
hundred zentners* of yarn in a year, and I have never yet brought them to spin
right well. And I can not complain about it, either; for they have to do a good
deal in the fields and about the cattle. But if you desire to see a good arrange-
ment for the matter of spinning, you must go to see the mason's wife. With
her, there is something to be seen on that point ; but not with us."

Lieut. " Is not the mason's wife, of whom you speak, named Gertrude ? "

Mareieli. " It seems that you know her already ? "

Lieut. "No ; but the squire had proposed to go directly from you to her."

Mar. " "Well; then you will see that I told you correctly."

2. A GOOD SCHOOL is THE FOUNDATION OF ALL GOOD FORTUNE.

Gertrude's room was so full, when they entered, that they could scarcely pass
between the wheels. Gertrude, who had not expected to see any strangers, told
the children, as the door opened, to get up and make room. But the squire
would not let one of them move, but gave his hand first to the pastor and then
to the lieutenant, to lead them behind the children, next the wall, to Gertrude's
table.

You could not believe how much the scene delighted these gentlemen. What
they had seen with Cotton Meyer seemed as nothing, in comparison.

And very naturally Order and comfort, about a rich man, do not surprise.
We think, hundreds of others do not do so well, because they have not money.
But happiness and comfort in a poor hut, showing so unanswerably that every
body in the world could be comfortable, if they could maintain good order and
were well brought up — this astonishes a well-disposed mind, almost beyond
power of expression.

But the gentlemen had a whole room full of such poor children, in the full
enjoyment of such blessings, before their eyes. The squire seemed for a time to
be seeing the picture of the first-born of his future better-taught people, as if in
a dream ; and the falcon eyes of the lieutenant glanced hither and thither like
lightning, from child to child, from hand to hand, from work to work, from eye
to eye. The more he saw, the fuller did his heart grow with the thought : She
has done, and completely, what we seek ; the school which we look for is in
her room.

The room was for a time as still as death. The gentlemen could do nothing
but gaze and gaze, and be silent. But Gertrude's heart beat at the stillness and
at the marks ol respect which the lieutenant showed to her during it, and which
bordered on reverence. The children however spun away briskly, and laughed
out of their eyes to each other ; for they perceived that the gentlemen were there
on their account, and to see their work.

The lieutenant's first words to Gertrude were, " Do these children all belong
to you, mistress?"

"No," said Gertrude, "they are not all mine;" and she then pointed out, one
after another, which were hers, and which were Rudi's.

"Think of it, lieutenant," said the pastor, " these children, who belong to Rudi,
could not spin one thread, four weeks ago."

* Hundred weight.

THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL. 653

The lieutenant looked at the pastor, and at Gertrude, and answered, " Is it
.possible 1 "

Gertrude. " That is not remarkable. A child will learn to spin right well hi
a couple of weeks. I have known children to learn it hi two days."

Squire. " It is not that which I am wondering at in this room, but quite
another thing. These children of other people, since the three or four weeks
ago when Gertrude received them, have come to look so differently, that in
truth I scarcely knew one of them. Living death, and the extremest mis-
ery, spoke from their faces ; and these are so gone that no trace of them is
left."

The lieutenant replied, in French, " But what does she do to the children,
then?"

Squire. "God knows I"

Pastor. " If you stay here all day, you hear no tone, nor see any shadow of
any thing particular. It seems always, and in every thing she does, as if any
other woman could do it; and certainly, the commonest wife would never im-
agine that Gertrude was doing, or could do, any thing which she herself could
not."

Lieut. " You could not say more to raise her in my estimation. That is the
culmination of art, where men think there is none at all. The loftiest is so sim-
ple that children and boys think they could do much more than that."

As the gentlemen conversed in French, the children began to look at each
other and laugh. Heireli and the child who sat opposite to her made mouths
to each other, as if to say, "Parlen, parlen, parlen."

Gertrude only nodded, and all was still in a moment. And then the lieuten-
ant, seeing a book lying on every wheel, asked Gertrude what they were doing
with them."

Ger. " Oh, they learn out of them."

Lieut. "But, not while they are spinning? "

Ger. " Certainly."

Lieut. " I want to see that."

Squire. " Yes ; you must show us that, Gertrude."

Ger. " Children, take up your books and learn."

Children. " Loud, as we did before ? "

Ger. " Yes, loud, as you did before ; but right."

Then the children opened then- books, and each laid the appointed page before
'him, and studied the lesson which had been set. But the wheels turned as be-
fore, although the children kept their eyes wholly on the books.

The lieutenant could not be satisfied with seeing, and desired her to show
him every thing relating to her management of the children, and what she taught
them.

She would have excused herself, and said it was nothing at all but what the
gcaclenieu knew, and a thousand tunes better than she.

But the squire intimated to her to proceed. Then she told the children
to close their books, and she taught them, by rote, a stanza from the song,

" How beautiful the sunbeams' play,
And how their soft and brilliant ray
Delights and quickens all mankind —
The eye, the brain, and all the mind ! "

654 'I'HK SCHOOL IX HOXNAL.

The third stanza, which they were then learning, reads thus : —

" The sun is set. And thus goes down,
Before the Lord of Heaven's frown,
The loftiness and pride of men,
And all is dusk and night again."

She repeated one line at a time, distinctly and slowly, and the children said
it after her, just as slowly, and very distinctly, and did so over and over, until
one said, " I know it now." Then she let that one repeat the stanza alone, and'
when he knew every syllable, she permitted him to repeat it to the others, and
them to repeat after him, until they knew it. Then she began with them all
three of the stanzas, of which they had already learned the first two. And
then she showed the gentlemen how she taught them arithmetic ; and her mode
was the simplest and most practical that can be imagined.

But of that I shall speak again in another place.

3. RECRUITING OFFICER'S DOINGS.

The lieutenant was every moment more convinced that this was the right
instruction for his school ; but he was also convinced that he needed a woman
like this, if the giving it was to be not merely possible, but actual.

A Prussian recruiting officer does not contrive so many means of getting into
the service a fellow who comes up to the standard, as the lieutenant contrived
to decoy into his trap this woman, who came up to his standard in school
teaching.

"But, mistress." he began, "could not the arrangements in your room here be
introduced into a school ? "

She thought a moment, and replied, " I don't know. But it seems as if what
is possible with ten children is possible with forty. But it would require much ;
and I do not believe that it would be easy to find a schoolmaster who would
permit such an arrangement in his school."

Lieut. " But if you knew of one who desired to introduce it, would you help
him?"

Ger. (Laughing.) " Yes, indeed ; as much as I could."

Lieut. " And if I am he ?"

Ger. "Are what?"

Lieut. " The schoolmaster, who would be glad to organize such a school as
you have in your room."

Ger. " You are no schoolmaster.'

Lieut. " Yes I am. Ask the gentlemen."

Ger. " Yes, perhaps, in a city, and in something of which we know neither
gigs nor gags."

Lieut. " No ; but, honestly, in a village."

Ger. (Pointing to the wheels.} " Of such children ? "

Lieut. "Yes, of such children."

Ger. " It is a long way from me to the place where schoolmasters for such
children look like you."

Lieut. "Not so far."

Ger. " I think it is."

Lieut. "But you will help me, if I undertake to organize my school in that

way ? "

Ger. " If it is far away, I will not go with you.

THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL. Q-r

Lieut. " I shall remain here."

G&r. " And keep school ? "

Lieut. " Yes."

G&r. " Here in the room ? "

Lieut. "No; in the school-room."

G&r. "You would be sorry, if you should be taken at your word."

Lieut. '' But you still more, if you should have to help me."

G&r. "No; it would please me."

Lieut. (; You have said twice that you would help me."

G&r. "I have — and I say so three times, if you are our schoolmaster."

Here he and the other gentlemen began to laugh; and the squire said "Yes,
Gertrude : he is certainly your schoolmaster."

This perplexed her. She blushed, and did not know what to say.

Lieut. " What makes you so silent ? "

G&r. "I think it would have been well if I had been as silent for a quarter
of an hour back."

Lieut. "Why?"

G&r. " How can I help you, if you are a schoolmaster ? "

Lieut. "You are looking for excuses ; but I shall not let you go."

G&r. " I will beg you."

Lieut. "It will be of no use; if you had promised to marry me, you must
abide by the promise."

G&r. " No, indeed 1 "

Lieut. " Yes, indeed I "

G&r. " It is out of the question."

Squire. " If there is any thing which you know, Gertrude, do it as well as you
can ; he will not ask any thing more ; but, whatever you do to help him, you
will do to help me."

G&r. " I will, very willingly ; but you see my room full of children, and how
I am tied down. But, with regard to advice and help in matters relating to
work, which a gentleman naturally can not understand, I know a woman who
understands them much better than I ; and she can do whatever I can not."

Squire. "Arrange it as you can; but give him your hand on the bargain."

4. A PROUD SCHOOLMASTER.

The new condition of affairs raised the courage of the pastor, who had been
almost in the state of a slave under the old squire ; and his acquaintance with
the son contributed much toward accomplishing his ancient plans. On the
next Sunday he explained to the people some chapters of the Bible ; and, at the
end of the service, called for whatever else was to be done. Then the squire
took the lieutenant by the hand, and told him to say himself to the congrega-
tion what he desired to do for their children.

The lieutenant arose, bowed to the squire, the pastor, and the congregation,
took off his hat, leaned on his stick, and said : — " I have been brought up
with a nobleman, and am myself a nobleman ; but I am not for that reason
ashamed to serve God and my follow-men in the situation which Providence
calls me ; and I thank my dear parents, now under the ground, for the good ed-
ucation they gave me, and which enables me now to put your school on such a
footing that, if God will, your children shall all their lives be respected for hav-
ing attended it. But it is not my business to make long speeches and sermons ;

(u-r. THE SCHOOL IN BON.N'AL

but, if it please God, I will begin my school instruction to-morrow, and then
every thing will be made plain. Only I will say that each child should bring hia
work, whether sewing, or spinning cotton, or whatever it be, and the instruments
for the same, until the squire shall purchase such for the school."

" And what will he do with spinning- wheels in the school ? " said men and
women to each other in all their seats, and one, behind him, so loud that he
heard it.

The lieutenant turned round, and said aloud, "Nothing, except to make the
children learn to read and cipher, of each other."

This the farmers could not get into their heads how the scholars could learn
to read and cipher of each other ; and many of them said, at the church-door,
" It will be with him as it was with the madder-plants, and the beautiful sheep
that the old squire had brought from two hundred leagues away, and then let
them die miserably at their fodder." But some older and experienced men said,
" He does not look at all like the madder-plants ; and has not the appearance
of a man who talks carelessly."

That evening the lieutenant went into the school-room, and nailed up, imme-
diately opposite to where he was going to sit, a beautiful engraving. This rep-
resented an old man, with a long white beard, who, with wrinkled brow, and
eyes wide open, lifted up his finger.

The squire and the pastor said, "What is that for ? "

LieuL " He is to say to me, ' Gluelphi, swear not, while you sit there before
mel'"

They replied, " Then we will not pull him down, he fills too important a
, place."

Lieut. "I have been considering about it."

5. SCHOOL ORGANIZATION.

Next morning, the lieutenant began with his school. But I should not read-
ily recommend any other schoolmaster to do what he did, and after such a Sun-
day's proclamation, which was considered proud by every body, then cause his
school to be put in order by a farmer's wife. Still, if he be a Gluelphi, he may
do it, and it will not injure him ; but I mean a real Gluelphi, not a pretended
one.

He let Gertrude put the children in order, just as if she had them at home.

She divided them according to age, and the work they had, as they could best
be put together ; and placed her own and Rudi's children, who were already
accustomed to her management, between others. In front, next the table, she
put those who did not know their A, B, C ; next behind them, those who were
to spell; then those who could read a little, and last those who could read fluently.
Then, for the first row, she put only three letters on the blackboard, and taught
them to them. Whichever knew them best then was to name them aloud, and
the others were to repeat them after him. Then she changed the order of the
letters, wrote them larger and smaller, and so left them before their eyes, all the
morning. In like manner she wrote up several letters, for the scholars who
were learning to spell, and those who could read a little had to spell with these
letters. But these, as well as those who could read fluently, were to have their
books always open by their spinning-wheels, and to repeat in a low tone of voice
after one who read aloud. And every moment they were saying to that one
' Go on."

THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL. (557

For the work, Gertrude had brought a woman with her, named Margaret,
who was to come to the school every day ; as Gertrude had no time for that
purpose.

This Margaret understood her business so well that it would not be easy to
find another like her. As soon as any child's hand, or wheel, was still, she
stepped up to him, and did not leave him until all was going on in good order
again.

Most of the children carried home that evening so much work, that their
mothers did not believe they had done it alone. But many of the children an-
swered, " Yes ; it makes a difference whether Margaret shows us, or you." And
in like manner they praised the lieutenant, their schoolmaster.

In the afternoon he conducted the school, and Gertrude watched him, as lie
had her in the morning; and things went so well that she said to him, "If I
had known that I could finish all my work in helping you organize the school
in a couple of hours, I should not have been so troubled on Thursday."

And he was himself pleased that things went so well.

That evening he gave to each of the children over seven years old, a couple
of sheets of paper, stitched together, and a couple of pens ; and each child found
his name written thereon as beautifully as print. They could not look at them
enough ; and one after another asked him how they were to be used. He
showed them ; and wrote for them, for a quarter of an hour, such great letters
that they looked as if they were printed. They would have watched him until
morning, it seemed so beautiful to them, and they kept asking him if they were
to learn to do the same.

He answered, " The better you learn to write, the better I shall be pleased."
At dismissal, he told them to take care of their paper, and to stick the points of
their pens into rotten apples ; for that was the very best way to keep them.

"To this, many of the children answered, "Yes, that would be nice, if we
had any rotten apples; but it is not winter now."

At this he laughed, and said, " If you have none, perhaps I can get them for
you. The pastor's wife has certainly more than she wants."

But other children said, " No, no; we will get some, we have some yet."

6. SCHOOL ORGANIZATION — CONTINUED.

The children all ran home, hi order quickly to show their beautiful writing to
tneir parents ; and they praised the schoolmaster and Margaret, as much as they
could. But many answered, " Yes, yes ; new brooms sweep clean ; " or some
such singular expression, so that the children did not understand what they
meant. This troubled the good children, but still they did not cease to be
pleased ; and if their parents took no pleasure in their beautiful writing, they
showed it to whomever they could, to their little brothers in the cradle, and to
the cat on the table ; and took such care of them as they had never in their
lives taken of any thing before. And if the little brother reached out his hand,
or the cat its paw, after them, they quickly drew them back, and said, " You
must only look at it with your eyes ; not touch it." Some of them put theirs
away in the Bible. Others said they could not open such a great book, and put
them in a chest, among the most precious things they had. Their joy at going
to school again was so great that the next morning many of them got up almost
before day, and called their mothers to get them quickly something to eat, so
that they might get to school in good season. On Friday, when the new writ-

42

658 THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

ing-benches, which the squire had had made, were ready, their pleasure was very
invat. During the first lesson, they would all sit together: but the lieutenant
divided them into four classes, in order that there should not be too many of
them, and that none should escape him, and none could make a single mark that
he did not see.

In this study also, most of the children did very well. Some learned so easi-
ly, that it seemed to come to them of itself; and others, again, did weD, because
they had been more in the habit of doing things that required attention. Some,
however, who had never had very much in their hands except the spoon with
which they ate, found great difficulties. Some learned arithmetic very easily,
who found writing very hard, and who held the pen as if their hands had been
crippled. And there were some young loafers among them, who had all their
lives scarcely done any thing except run about the streets and fields, and who,
nevertheless, learned almost every thing far quicker than the rest.

So it is in the world. The most worthless fellows have the best natural en-
dowments, and usually exceed, in intelligence and capacity, those who do not
wander about so much, but sit at home at their work. And the arithmeticians
among the farmers are usually to be found at the tavern.

The schoolmaster found these poor children generally much more capable,
both in body and in mind, than he had expected.

For this there is also a good reason. Need and poverty make men more re-
fiective and shrewd than riches and superfluity, and teach him to make the
best use of every thing that will bring him bread.

Grluelphi made so much use of this fact, that, in every thing he did, and in al-
most every word he used, in the school, he had the distinct purpose of making
use of this basis laid down by nature herself, for the education of the poor and
of countrymen. He was so strenuous, even, about the sweat of daily labor,
that he claimed that whatever can be done for a man, makes him useful, or reli-
able for skill, only so far as he has acquired his knowledge and skill in the sweat
of his years of study ; and that, where this is wanting, the art and knowledge
of men is like a mass of foam in the sea, which often looks, at a distance, like a
rock rising out of the abyss, but which falls as soon as wind and wave attack it.
Therefore, he said, in education, thorough and strict training to the vocation
must necessarily precede all instruction by words.

He also maintained a close connection between this training to a vocation
and training in manners, and asserted that the manners of every condition
and trade, and even of the place or country of a man's abode, are so important
to him, that the happiness and peace of all his life depends on them. Training
to good manners was thus also a chief object of his school organization. He
would have his school-room as clean as a church. He would not even let a pane
be out of the windows, or a nail be wrongly driven in the floor; and still less
would he permit the children to throw any thing on the floor, eat during study,
or any thing else of the kind. He preserved strict order, even in the least
thing ; and arranged so that, even in sitting down and rising up, the children
would not hit against each other.

In muddy weather they were made to leave their shoes at the door, and sit in
then- stockings. And if their coats were muddy, they had to dry them in the
sun, or at the stove, as the case might be, and clean them. He himself cut their
nails for many of them, and put the hair of almost all the boys in good order ;

THE SCHOOL iX BOXXAL.

659

and whenever any one went from writing to working, he was obliged to wash
his hands. They had, likewise, to rinse out their mouths at proper times, and
take care of their teeth, and see that their breath was not foul. All these were
things they knew nothing about.

When they came into the school and went out, they stepped up to him, one
after the other, and said to him, "God be with you." Then he looked at them
from head to foot, and looked at them so that they knew by his eye, without his
saying a word, if there was any thing wrong about them. But if this look did
not serve to set things right, he spoke to them. When he saw that the parents
were to blame for any thing, he sent a message to them ; and, not uncommonly,
a child came home to its mother with the message, " You, the schoolmaster
sends his respects, and asks whether you have no needles, or no thread ; or if
water is expensive with you," and the like.

Margaret was as if she had been made on purpose to help him about these
things. If a child's hair was not in good order, she placed it with its spinning-
wheel before her, and braided it up while the child studied and worked. Most
of them did not know how to fasten their shoes or their stockings. All these
things she showed them ; adjusted their neckcloths and aprons, if they were
wrong, and, if she saw a hole in their clothes, took a needle and thread and
mended it. At about the close of the school, she went through the room, prais-
ing or blaming the children, as they had worked well, half-well, or ill. Those
who had done well, then went first up to the schoolmaster, and said to him,
" God be with you," and he then held out his hand to them and replied, " God
be with you, you dear child ! " Those who had done only half- well, camet
then to him; and to them he only said, "God be with you," without holding-
out his hand to them. Lastly, those who had not done well at all had to leave-
the room before the others, without daring to go to him at all.

If one of them came too late, he found the door shut, like the gate ot a fbr--
tress that is closed. Whether then he cried or not, made no difference ; the-
master said to him, briefly, " Go home "again, now ; it will do you good to think,
a long time about it. Every thing that is done must be done at the right time,,
or else it is as if it is not done at all."

7. GOD'S WORD is THE TRUTH.

Thus, every word he said, was intended, by constantly accustoming the chil-
dren to what they would in future have to say and do, to lead them into true
wisdom in life ; for he endeavored, with every word, to plant deep in their
minds such a foundation of equanimity and peace, as every man can possess ia
all circumstances, if the difficulties of his lot are early made to be another na-
ture to him. And this is the central point of the difference between his mode
of instructing the children, and that of other schoolmasters.

The efficiency of his labors soon convinced the pastor of Bonnal of the im
portance of that distinction ; and caused him to see that all verbal instruction,
so far as it aims at true human wisdom, and that highest end of this wisdom,
true religion, must undoubtedly be subordinated to constant exercises in useful
domestic labor ; and that that mouth-religion which consists in memory-work
and controversial opinions may be forgotten, as soon as, by constant exercises
in useful practical exertion, a better foundation is laid for good and noble aspi-
rations ; that is. for true wisdom and true religion.

THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

But the pastor saw that he himself knew little of any such management of
men, and that the lieutenant, and even Margaret, accomplished more in that di-
rection than he did by preaching for hours, or by doing whatever else he could.
He was ashamed of himself in the comparison, but he aided their undertaking,
learned from both of them whatever he could, and, in every thing which he
taught his children, founded upon what the lieutenant and Margaret practiced.
But in proportion as these latter accustomed their children to useful labor, so
much did he shorten his verbal instructions.

This he would gladly have done long before ; but he did not know how to
begin it, or how to continue it. He had indeed dreamed of what the lieutenant
and Margaret were doing ; but he could not deprive his children of such bene-
fits as were derivable from the old system of instruction, for the sake of mere
dreams of what he could not execute. But now that he saw a better truth,
and the advantage of practice in doing over practice in teaching, he followed
after that better truth, and in his age made giant strides in the change of his
method of popular instruction.

From this time forward he permitted his children to learn no more dogmas by
rote — such, for example, as those apples of discord, the questions which for two
hundred years have split good Christians into so many parties, and which cer-
tainly, for country people, have not made easier the way to everlasting- life; for
In- was every moment more convinced that man loses little or nothing by losing
mere words.

But while he, like Luther, with the help of God, struck down the foolish verb-
iage of a mere mouth-religion, still he did not serve up instead of it a new one
of the same kind, one of his own instead of the strange one ; but united his of-
forts with those of the lieutenant and Margaret, to train his children, without
many words, to a peaceful and laborious life in their vocations ; by constantly
accustoming them to a wise mode of life, to stop up the sources of ignoble,
shameful, and disorderly practices, and in this manner to lay the foundations of
a quiet and silent habit of worship of God, and of a pure, active, and equally
and silent benevolence to men.

To attain this end, he based every word of his brief instructions in religion
upon the doings and omissions of the children, their circumstances and duties
in life ; so that, when he talked with them of God and eternity, he seemed to be
speaking of father and mother, of house and home — of things closely connected
with tliis world.

He pointed out to them with his own hand the few wise and pious portions
which they were still made to learn by rote from the book. Of the rest of the
prolix, quarrelsome gabble, which he desired to empty out of their brains, as
the summer melts away the winter snow, he saved nothing at all ; and if
any one began to talk to him about it, he said that he saw more clearly every
day that it was not good for men to have heads filled up with too many whys
and wherefores, and that daily experience showed that, just in proportion as
men carried about such whys and wherefores in their heads, they lost in their
degree of natural understanding, and the daily usefulness of their hands and
feet. And he no longer permitted any child to learn a long prayer by heart ;
saying openly that it was contrary to the express spirit of Christianity, and to
the command which the Saviour gave to his disciples, "But thou when thou
prayest," &c.

THE SCFIOOL IN BONNAL. g(3|

8. To BE AS GOOD AS A MAN CAN BE, HE MUST APPEAR BAD.

The best thing about him was, that he said plainly, all that he did, " If I had
not seen the lieutenant and Margaret doing this in their school-room with the
children, I should have remained, as to their instruction, even until death, the
old pastor in Bonnal, without any change, just as I have been for thirty years.
T was not in a condition to undertake the chief parts of the true instruction of
these children ; and all that I can do for it, even now, is this : not to lay any
hindrance in the way of the lieutenant and Margaret."

He was quite right ; for of the ordinary employments of men, and of most
things upon which the lieutenant based his proceedings, he knew nothing what-
ever. He both knew men, and did not know them. He could describe them
in such a way that you would have to say, " Yes, they are thus." But he did
not know them so that he could mingle with them, and correct or accomplish
any thing about them. And the lieutenant often told him directly that he was
not capable of accomplishing any real reform amongst men ; that he would only
destroy them with his goodness. For how kind soever the lieutenant might
seem always, no one could easily have stricter principles of education than he.

He openly maintained, that " Love is useless in the training of men, except
behind or by the side of fear. For they must learn to root up thorns and this-
tles ; and men could never do that willingly, never of themselves, but only when
they are obliged, or have become accustomed to. One who would set any thing
right with men, or bring them up to any proposed point, must gain the mastery
of their evil qualities, must follow up their falsehood, and must make them sweat
with pain, for their crooked ways. The education of men is nothing except the
polishing of single members of the great chain by which all humanity is bound
together. Faults in the education and guidance of men consist mostly in this,
that we take single links out of the chain and undertake to ornament them, as
if they were isolated, and were not links belonging to that great chain ; and
as if the power and usefulness of that single member depended upon its being
gilded, or silvered, or set with precious stones ; and not upon its being well-knit
to its next neighbors without any weakening, and being strongly and pliantly
adapted to the daily vibrations of the whole chain, and to all its movements."

Thus spoke the man whose strength consisted in his knowledge of the world,
to the clergyman, whose weakness consisted in his ignorance of it.

But it was the labor of the life of the former to acquire a knowledge of
men ; and he always felt gratitude to his deceased father, for having made this
his design from youth up. His father had thought many men good who were
not, by reason of insufficient knowledge with them ; and the sorrow therefrom
resulting cost him his life. A few days before his death, he called Gluelphi,
then eleven years old, to his bedside, and said, " Child, trust no one, all your life,
until you have experience of him. Men betray and are betrayed ; but to know
them, is worth gold. Respect them, but trust them not ; and let it be your
daily task to write down every evening what you have seen and heard."

And therewith the last tears came from his eyes, and soon they were closed.
And from that day, Gluelphi had not omitted, any evening, to follow the death-
bed advice of his father. He had also preserved all his written records, from
youth. They are to him a treasure of knowledge of human nature ; and he
calls them by no name except the good bequest of his dear deceased father ;

602 THE SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

•nd ho often moistens them with tears. They make a thousand heavy hours
pleasant to him, and have been, in his school also, a guide which has quickly led
him to the object he has desired.

He knew the children in a week, better than their parents in seven years ;
and, according to his principles, set himself to make them sweat for pain if they
undertook to keep any thing secret from him, and especially to keep their hearts
always open to his eyes.

9.- HE WHO SEPARATES THE PRINCIPLES OF ARITHMETIC AND OF SUSCEPTI-
BILITY TO TRUTH, PUTS ASUNDER WHAT GOD HAS JOINED.

But how much soever he cared for the hearts of his children, he took as much
care for their heads ; and required whatever went into them should be as clear
and comprehensible as the silent moon in the heavens. He said, " Nothing can
be called teaching, which does not proceed in that principle ; what is obscure,
and deceives, and makes confused, is not, teaching, but perverting the mind."

This perversion of the mind, in his children, he guarded against, by teaching
them, above all, to see and hear closely ; and by laboriously and industriously
teaching them habits of cool observation, and at the same time by strengthening
in them the natural capacity which every man possesses. To this end, he prac-
ticed them especially in arithmetic ; in which he carried them so far, within a
year, that they very soon yawned if any one began to talk to them about the
wonderful puzzles with which Hartknopf 's friends so easily astonished the rest
of the people in the village.

So true is it, that the way to lead men away from error is, not to oppose their
folly with words, but to destroy the spirit ot it within them. To describe the
night, and the dark colors of its shadows, does not help you see ; it is only by
lighting a lamp, that you can show what the night was ; it is only by couching
a cataract, that you can show what the blindness has become. Correct seeing
and correct hearing is the first step toward living wisely ; and arithmetic is the
means by which nature guards us from error in our searches after truth ; the
basis of peace and prosperity, which children can secure for their manhood only
by thoughtful and careful pursuit of their employments.

For such reasons, the lieutenant thought nothing so important as a right
training of his children in arithmetic; and he said, " A man's mind will not
proceed well, unless it gains the habitude of apprehending and adhering to the
truth, either by means of much experience, or of arithmetical practice, which
will in great part supply the place of that habitude."

But his methods of teaching them arithmetic are too extended to be given
here.

10. A SURE MEANS AGAINST MEAN AND LYING SLANDERS.

In this matter also he succeeded with the children as he desired ; and it could
not but happen that one, who accomplished so much for them, should become
dear to many people. But it was far from being the case that all were satisfied
with him. The chief charge against him was, that he was too proud for a
schoolmaster, and would not talk with the people at all. He said one thing and
another to defend himself, and tried to make them understand that he was using
his time and his lungs for their children ; but the farmers said that, notwith-
standing all that, he might stop a moment or two when any one wanted to say
something to him ; and, if pride did not prevent him, he would.

THE SCHOOL IN BONN A L.

663

All the children, to be sure, contradicted their parents in this, and said that he
certainly was not proud, but they replied, " He may be good to you, and may
be proud nevertheless."

But the rainy weather, in the third week of his school-keeping, accomplished
for him, what the good children could not do, with all their talking.

It was an established principle in Bonnal, that an old bridge, in front of the
school-house, decayed for twenty years, should not be replaced ; and so, when-
ever it rained for two days together, the children had to get wetted almost to
their knees, to get to the school. But the first time that Gluelphi found the
street so deep in water, he stood out in the street, as soon as the children came,
in the middle of the rain, and lifted them, one after another, over the stream.

This looked very funny to a couple of men and their wives, who lived just
opposite the school-house, and who were exactly those who had complained
most that his pride would scarcely let him say good day and good night to peo-
ple. They found great pleasure in seeing him get wet through and through, in
his red coat, and thought he would never keep at it a quarter of an hour, and
expected every moment that he would call out to them to know whether no-
body was coming to help him. But when he continued right on with his work,
just as if not even a cat lived any where near him, not to say a man, and was
dripping wet, clothes and hair, and all over, and still showed no shadow of im-
patience, but kept carrying over one child after another, they began to say, be-
hind their windows, " He must be a good-natured fool, after all, to keep it up so
long, and we seem to have been mistaken about him. If he had been proud,
he would certainly have stopped long ago."

At last they crept out of their holes, and went out to him, and said, " We did
not see, before, that you were taking so much trouble, or we would have come
out to you sooner. Go home and dry yourself; we will carry the children over.
"We can bear the rain better than you. And, before school is out, we will bring
a couple of planks, too, so that there shall be a bridge here, as there used to be."

This they did not say merely, but did it. Before eleven o'clock, there was
actually a bridge erected, so that after the school the scholars could go dry-
shod over the brook. And, also, the complaints about his pride ceased ; for the
two neighbors' wives, who had been the loudest in making them, now sang
quite another song.

If this seems incredible to you, reader, make an experiment yourself! and
stand out in the rain for the sake of other people's children, without being called
on to do so, or receiving any thing for it, until you are dripping wet ; and then
see whether those people do not then willingly speak good of you, and do good
to you ; and whether they say any thing evil of you, except in regard to some-
thing actually and very evil, or something which they absolutely can not see and
understand to be otherwise than bad.

11. FOOLISH WORDS, AND SCHOOL PUNISHMENTS,

But it was not long before the people had something else to complain about ;
and, indeed, something worse than before. The Hartknopf party in the village,
that is, discovered that the lieutenant was not a good Christian ; and began qui-
etly to make good and simple people in the village believe it. One of the first
to find comfort in this story, and to endeavor to propagate it, was the old school-
master. He could not endure that all the children should so praise and love

664 TIJE SCHOOL IN BONNAL.

the new schoolmaster. As long as he had been schoolmaster, they had hated
him ; and he had become so used to this, in thirty years, that he believed it
must be so ; and asserted that the children, not being able to understand what
is good for them, naturally hate all discipline, and consequently all schoolmasters.
But he made not much progress with this theory ; and he fancied people were
going to tell him that the children loved their present schoolmaster because he
was good to them.

This vexed him; for he could not endure, all his life, to have it flung at him
that his own foolishness was the reason that the children did not love him,
although it was the honest truth. If he observed the least thing which he dis-
approved, the first word was, "You are killing me, body and soul; you will
bring me into my grave. If you did not deserve hell for any other reason, you
deserve it on account of me ; " and the like.

Such language, especially to children, does not cause good feelings ; and they
must have been much more than children to be able to love a fool, who spoke
to them in that way every moment. They knew whom they were dealing with,
and when he was most enraged, they would say to each other, " When we kill
again, and bring him some sausages and meat, we shall not go to hell any more,
at least as long as he has any of them left to eat."

With the new schoolmaster the case was quite otherwise. His harshest re-
proofs to the children, when they did wrong, were, "That is not right," or "You
are injuring yourself," or "In that way you will never arrive at any thing good,"
&c. Little as this was, it was effectual, because it was the truth.

Gluelphi's punishments consisted mostly in exercises intended to help the
faults which they were to punish. For instance, if a child was idle, he was
made to carry stone for the guard-fence, which the teacher was making some of
the older boys construct, at the sand-meadow, or to cut fire- wood, &c. A forget-
ful one was made school-messenger, and for four or five days had to transact
whatever business the teacher had in the village.

Even during his punishments, he was kind to the children, and scarcely ever
talked more with them than while punishing them. "Is it not better for you,"
he would often say to a careless one, "to learn to keep yourself attentive to
what you do, than every moment to be forgetting something, and then to have
to do every thing over again? " Then the child would often throw himself upon
him with tears, and, with his trembling hand in his, would reply, " Yes, dear
Herr schoolmaster." And he would then answer, " Good child. Don't cry ;
but learn better ; and tell your father and mother to help you overcome your
carelessness, or your idleness."

Disobedience, which was not carelessness, he punished by not speaking pub-
licly to such a child, for three, or four, or five days, but only alone with him ;
intimating to him, at the close of school, to remain. Impertinence and impro-
priety, he punished in the same way. Wickedness, however, and lying, he pun-
ished with the rod ; and any child punished with the rod, was not permitted,
during a whole week, to join in the children's plays ; and his name and his fault
stood entered in the Register of Offenses, until he gave unmistakable evidence
of improvement, when they were stricken out again.

So great was the difference between the old and the new organization of the
school.

CHRISTOPHER AND ALICE.

IN the year 1782, Pestalozzi, with a view of directing the attention of
the readers of " Leonard and Gertrude " from the story to the moral
lessons which it was intended to convey, and to correct some erroneous
impressions which the people had got from the picture he had drawn
of the depravity of subordinate functionaries in the villages, published
his " Christopher and Alice ," (Christoph and Else.) This work con-
sists of a series of dialogues, in which Christopher, an intelligent farmer,
discusses with his family, chapter by chapter, the history of Bonnal.
The principal interlocutors are, besides Christopher, his wife Alice, Jo-
siah, his head-servant, and Frederic, his eldest son. Some of his neigh-
bors occasionally drop in, and take part in the discussion, which is re-
plete with the soundest views of life, and of parental duty, and opportu-
nity, conveyed in homely but expressive language. But it lacked the
interest of action, and never reached the class of people for whose special
benefit is was intended.

We extract the principal portion of one of the dialogues, in which
Pestalozzi exalts the training office of the mother and the home above
that of the schoolmaster and the school room — a leading principle of his
educational labors through life — one of the earliest and latest of his as-
pirations for the advancement of his falher-land, and of humanity.

HOME AND SCHOOL TRAINING. DOMESTIC EDUCATION.

" That is my chapter, father ! " said Alice, when Christopher had read the
twelfth chapter of our book ;* " a pious mother, who herself teaches her children
seems to me to be the finest sight on the earth."

" It is a very different one from a school room, at all events," said Josiah.

Alice. " I did not mean to say that schools are not very good."

Christopher. " Nor would I allow myself to think so."

Josiah. " Well, and it is true, after all, that nothing of what the schoolmaster
can say will ever reach children's hearts in the same way as what their parents
teach them ; and, generally speaking, I am sure there is not in school-going all
the good that people fancy there is."

Christopher. " I am afraid, Josiah, thou art rather straining thy point. "We
ought to thank God for all the good that there is in the world ; and, as for the
schools in our country, we can't thank Him enough for them."

Josiah. "Well spoken, master. It is well that there are schools; and God
forbid that I should be ungrateful for any good that it has done to us. But, with
all this, I think that he must be a fool who, having plenty at home, runs about
begging ; and that is the very tiling which our village folks do, by forgetting all

* This chapter represents Gertrude in the midst of her children, teaching them, at the
same time that they are engaged in spinning. — B.

6(50 CHRISTOPHER AND ALICE

the good lessons which they might teach their children at home, and, instead
thereof, sending them every day to gather up the dry crumbs which are to be got
in our miserable schools. 1 am sure that is not quite as it ought to be."
Christopher. " Nor is it, perhaps, quite as thou hast put it."
Josiah. " Nay, master ! but only look it in the face, and thou'lt surely see it
the same as I do. That which parents can teach their children is always what
they stand most in need of in life ; and it is a pity that parents should neglect
this, by trusting in the words which the schoolmaster makes them get by heart.
It is very true, they may be good and wise words, and have an excellent mean-
ing to them ; but, after all, they are only words, and coming from the mouth of a
stranger, they don't come half as near home as a father's or a mother's words."
Christopher. UI can not see what thou would'st be at, Josiah."
Josiah. " Look, master ! The great point in bringing up a child is, that he
should be well brought up for his own house; he must learn to know, and han-
dle, and use those things on which his bread and his quiet will depend through
life; and it seems to me very plain, that fathers and mothers can teach that
much better at home, than any schoolmaster can do it in his school. The school-
master, no doubt, tells the children of a great many things which are right and
good, but they are never worth as much in his mouth as in the mouth of an up-
right father, or a pious mother. The schoolmaster, for instance, will tell the child
to fear God, and to honor his father and mother, for that such is the word of
God ; but the child understands little of what he says, and mostly forgets it again
before he comes home. But if, at home, his father gives him milk and bread,
and his mother denies herself a morsel, that she may give it to him, the child
feels and understands that he ought to honor his father and mother, who are so
kind to him, and he will not forget his father's words, which tell him that such is
the word of God, as easily as the empty word of the schoolmaster. In the same
way, if the child is told at school to be merciful, and to love his neighbor as him-
self, he gets the text by heart, and perhaps thinks of it for a few days, till the
nice words slip again from his memory. But at home he sees a poor neighbor's
wife calling in upon his mother, lamenting over her misery, her hunger, and na-
kedness; he sees her pale countenance, her emaciated and trembling figure, the
very image of wretchedness ; his heart throbs, his tears flow ; he lifts up his eyes
full of grief and anxiety to his mother, as if he himself was starving ; his mother
goes to fetch some refreshments for the poor sufferer, in whose looks the child
now reads comfort and reviving hope; his anguish ceases, his tears flow no lon-
ger, he approaches her with a smiling face ; at last his mother returns, and her
gift is received with sobs of gratitude, which draw fresh tears from the child's
eye. Here then he learns what it is to be merciful, and to love one's neighbor.
He learns it, without the aid of words, by the real fact ; he sees mercy itself,
instead of learning words about mercy."

Christopher. " I must own I begin to think thou art not quite mistaken in
saying that too much value is put upon the schoolmaster's teaching."

Josiah. "Of course, master ! If thou sendest thy sheep up into the mount-
ain, thou reliest upon their being well kept by the shepherd, who is paid for it,
and thou dost not think of running about after them thyself; but if thou hast
them at home, in thy own stables, thou lookest after them thyself. Now it is just
the same thing with the school ; only there is this difference, that it is easy to
get for the sheep pasture which is infinitely better than the food they have in the

CHRISTOPHER AND ALICE. gg7

stable ; but it is not so easy to find a school in which the children are better
taught than they might be at home. The parents^ teaching is the kernel of
wisdom, and the schoolmaster's business is only to make a husk over iZ, and
there even is a great chance whether it turn out well."

Alice. " Why, Josiah, thou makest one's brains whirl all round, about one's
children. I think I see now what thou art at; and 1 fancy many a poor, igno-
rant mother, who now sends her children to school, without thinking any thing
about it, merely because it is the custom to do so, would be very glad to be taught
better."

Josiah. " There is yet another part of the story, master. What helps the
common people to get through the world, thou knowest, and to have their daily
bread, and a cheerful heart, is nothing else but good sense and natural under-
standing; and I have never found in all my life a useful man who was what they
call a good scholar. The right understanding with the common people is, as it
were, free and easy, and shows itself always in the proper place and season ; so
that a man's words don't fit but at the very moment when they are spoken, and a
quarter of an hour before or after they would not fit at all. But the school un-
derstanding, brings in all manner of sayings which are fit at all times, in summer
and winter, in hot and cold, in Lent and at Easter; and that is the reason why
this school understanding does not do any good to common people, who must
regulate themselves according to times and seasons ; and that is the reason, again,
why their natural understandings, which are in them, ought to be drawn out
more. And for this, there are no better teachers than the house, and the fath-
er's and mother's love, and the daily labor at home, and all the wants and neces-
sities of life. But if the children must needs be sent to school, the schoolmaster
should, at least, be an open-hearted, cheerful, affectionate, and kind man, who
would be as a father to the children ; a man made on purpose to open chil -
dren's hearts, and their mouths, and to draw forth their understandings, as it
were, from the hindermost corner. In most schools, however, it is just the con-
trary ; the schoolmaster seems as if he was made on purpose to shut up children's
mouths and hearts, and to bury their good understandings ever so deep under
ground. That is the reason why healthy and cheerful children, whose hearts are
full of joy and gladness, hardly ever like school. Those that show best at school
are the children of whining hypocrites, of of conceited parish-officers ; stupid
dunces, who have no pleasure with other children ; these are the bright orna-
ments of school rooms, who hold up their heads among the other children, like
the wooden king in the ninepins among his eight fellows. But, if there is a boy
who has too much good sense to keep his eyes, for hours together, fixed upon a
dozen letters which he hates; or a merry girl, who, while the schoolmaster dis-
courses of spiritual life, plays with her little hands all manner of temporal fun,
under the desk ; the schoolmaster, in his wisdom, settles that these are the goats
who care not for their everlasting salvation. . . ."

Thus spoke good Josiah, in the overflowing of his zeal, against the nonsense
of village schools, and his master and mistress grew more and more attentive to
what he said.

"Well, I trust," said Christopher, at last, "there still may be some other light
to view the matter in."

But Alice replied : " There may be twenty more lights to view the matter in,
for aught I know. But I care not ; I know this one thing, that I will have my

608 CHRISTOPHER AND ALICE.

children more about me in future ; it seems very natural, indeed, that fathers and
mothers should themselves teach their children as much as they possibly can. 1
think there is a great deal in what Josiah says, and one really shudders, when one
comes to reflect what sort of people our village schoolmasters generally are.
There are many of them, I know, Christopher, whom thou wouldst not trust
with a cow, or a calf, over winter ; and it is very true, that one ought to look
more one's self after one's children, and not fancy all is well, provided one sends
them to school."

HOW GERTRUDE TEACHES HER CHILDREN.

THIS work was written in 1801, and is in the form of letters to Pesta-
lozzi's friend Gesner, of Zurich, son of the author of " The Death of
Abel ; " and was, indeed, drawn up at his request. Its purpose is to
present in a condensed form the history of the development of Pestalozzi's
views on the principles and practice of instruction, up to the period of the
composition of the work.

The name is not appropriate to the actual contents of the book ; for
instead of containing such details of rudimentary instructions as mothers
might give, it_is mainly a careful and condensed compend of an extended
course, adapted to the minds of teachers of some experience. The title
was given with reference to the previous work, " Leonard and Gertrude"
in which Gertrude is represented as a pattern teacher for young children ;
and it signifies merely that the present work sets forth at greater length
the principles and practice of the former one. It has an allusive pro-
priety only.

The work commences with reference to Pestalozzi's early coi fusion of
ideas respecting education, and states briefly his early labors f r improv-
ing the condition of the poor. But he says his early hopes, as ex-
pressed in Iselin's "Ephemerides " (1782,) were no less comprehensive than
his later ones. His progress had been in working out the details of the
application of his principles to practical instruction. In the course of the
unsuccessful PTrpprimpnt_aJ; Neuhof, he proceeds, he had acquired an
acquamtance with the real needs of the Swiss people, altogether deeper
than that of his cotemporaries. In the despondent years then following,
he endeavored to do something toward supplying those needs, by com-
posing and publishing his "Inquiries into the Course of Nature in the
Development of Mankind." But Pestalozzi was not made for a master of
theories, whether in social or mental philosophy, or elsewhere. His work
neither satisfied him nor commanded the attention of the public.

Pestalozzi then traces his career as a practical educator, beginning with
his sudden resolution to become a schoolmaster, and his bold assumption,
single-handed and without money, books, apparatus, or any thing except
a ruinous old building, of the charge of the school of homeless poor
children at Stanz, and pausing to give brief accounts, partly autobiograph-
ical, of his three assistants, Kriisi, Buss, and Tobler.*

Besides the exposition of his practical views, of which the following
pag s present an abstract in his own words, the work contains a consider-

* These autobiographies will be found in the '-'American Journal of Education" Vol. V.,
p. 155.

070 11<)W GERTRUDE TEACHES HER CHILDREN.

able portion of polemic matter, directed against cotemporary evils and
errors in received modes of education. A principal origin of the superfi-
cial and unsubstantial character of these modes he finds to have been the
introduction of printing, which, according to him, has caused an excessive
devotion to mere language, without regard to thought, and has resulted
in making book-men, instead of thinkers.

The latter portion of the work contains a somewhat obscure and un-
satisfactory statement of the position of religious education in his system,
and of the mode of giving it ; which, however, is by no means to be taken
as an adequate presentation of Pestalozzi's views on this point.

The positive part of the book may be considered as an extended an-
swer to the question, "What is to be done to give the child all the theo-
retical and practical knowledge which he will need in order to perform
properly the duties of his life, and thus to attain to inward contentment? "

This answer professes to discuss both the theory and the practice re-
ferred to in the question ; but the former is predominant, although there
is an honest effort to give the latter its proper place.

The following pages will sufficiently present the chief features of the
most important portion of the work, that which sets forth the system of
instruction within the three primary divisions of Number, Form, and;
Speech.

PESTALOZZTS ACCOUNT OF HIS OWN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE.

POPULAR education once lay before me like an immense marsh, in the mire of
which I waded about, until I had discovered the sources from which its waters
spring, as well as the causes by which their free course is obstructed, and
made myself acquainted with those points from which a hope of draining its
pools might be conceived.

You shall now follow me yourself for a while through these labyrinthine wind-
ings, from which I extricated myself by accident rather than by my own art
or reflection.

Ever since my youthful days, the course of my feelings, rolled on like a
mighty stream, was directed to this one point ; namely, to stop the sources of
that misery in which I saw the people around me immersed.

It is now more than thirty years since I first put my hand to this same work,
which I am still pursuing. Iselin's " Ephemerides " bear witness that my present
dreams and wishes are not more comprehensive than those which I was even
then seeking to realize.

I lived for years together in a circle of more than fifty pauper children ; in
poverty did I share my bread with them, and lived myself like a pauper, to try
if I could teach paupers to live as men.

The plan which I had formed for their education embraced agriculture, manu-
facture, and commerce. But, young as I was, I knew not what attention, and
what powers, the realization of my dreams would require. I allowed myself
to be guided by a deep and decided feeling of what seemed to me essential to
the execution of my project ; and it is true that, with all the experience of after
life, I have found but little reason to modify the views I then entertained.
Nevertheless my confidence in their truth, founded upon the apparent infallibil-
ity of my feeling, became my ruin. For it is equally true, on the other hand,
that in no one of the three departments above-mentioned did I possess any prac-
tical ability for the management of details, nor was my mind of a cast to keep
up a persevering attention to little things ; and, in an insulated position, with
limited means, I was unable to procure such assistance as might have made up
for my own deficiencies. In a short time I was surrounded with embarrass-
ments, and saw the great object of my wishes defeated.

In the struggle, however, in which this attempt involved me, I had learned a
vast deal of truth ; and I was never more fully convinced of the importance
of my views and plans than at the moment when they seemed to be for ever set
at rest by a total failure. My heart too was still aiming at the same object;
and, being now myself plunged into wretchedness, I'had a better opportunity,
than any man in prosperity ever can have, of making myself intimately ac-
quainted with the wretchedness of the people, and with its sources. I suffered
even as the people suffered ; and they appeared to me such as they were, and
as they would not have shewn themselves to any one else. For a length of

G72 PESTALOZZI'S EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE.

years I sat amongst them like the owl among the birds. I was cast away by
men, and their sneers followed after me, "Wretch that thou art!" they ex-
claimed; "thou art less able than the meanest laborer to help thyself, and yet
thou fanciest thyself able to help the people! " Yet amidst the scorn which I
read on all lips, the mighty stream of my feeling was still directed to the same
point; to stop the sources of the misery in which I saw the people around me
sinking; and in one respect, at least, my power was daily increased. My mis-
fortune was a school, in which Providence had placed me to learn truth for my
great object: and I learned of it more and more. That which deceived no
other, has ever deceived me ; but what deceived every one else, now deceived
.me no longer.

I knew the people in a manner in which no one around me knew them.
The glitter of prosperity arising from the newly-introduced manufactures, the
freshened aspect of their houses, the abundance of their harvests, all this could
not deceive me ; nor even the Socratic discoursing of some of their teachers,
nor the reading associations among bailiffs' sons and hair-dressers. I -saw their
misery, but I lost myself in the vast prospect of its scattered and insulated
sources; and while my knowledge of their real condition became every day
more extensive, my practical capability of remedying the evils under which
they labored, increased in a far less proportion. Even "Leonard and Gertrude"
the work which sympathy with their sufferings extorted from me, was, after all,
but the production of my internal inability to offer them any real help. I
stood among my contemporaries like a monument which bespeaks life, but is in
itself dead. Many cast a glance upon it ; but they could appreciate me and
my plans no better than I myself was able to form a correct estimate of the
various powers, and the details of knowledge, necessary to carry them into
effect.

I grew careless ; and, being swallowed up in a vortex of anxiety for outward
action, I neglected to work out to a sufficient depth, within my own mind, the
foundations of what I intended to bring about.

Had I done this, to what internal elevation might I have risen for the accom-
plishment of my purposes ! and how rapidly should I then have reached my
aim ! I attained it not, because I was unworthy of it ; because I sought it
merely in the outward ; because I allowed my love of truth and of justice to
become a passion which tossed me about, like a torn-up reed, on the waves of
life, nor would permit me to take root again in firm ground, and to imbibe
that nourishment and strength of which I stood so much in need for the fur-
therance of my object. It was far too vain a hope, that some one else would
rescue that loose reed from the waves, and secure it in the ground in which I
myself neglected to plant it.

Oh, my dear friend! Who is the man that has but' one feeling in common
with my soul, and knows not how low I must now have sunk ? And thou,
my beloved Gesner, before thou readest on, wilt consecrate a tear to my
course

Deep dissatisfaction was gnawing my heart; eternal truth and eternal recti-
tude were converted by my passion into airy castles. With a hardened mind 1
clung stubbornly to words and sounds which had lost within me the basis of
truth. Thus I degraded myself every day more with the worship of common-
places, and the trumpeting of those quackeries, wherewith these modern times
wetend to better the condition of mankind.

PESTALOZZI'S EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 673

I was not, however, insensible to this internal abasement, nor did I fail to
struggle against it. For three years I toiled, more than I can express, over my
"Inquiries into the Course of Nature in the Development of Mankind" chiefly
with a view to get settled in my own mind as to the progress of my favorite
ideas, and to bring my innate feelings into harmony with my notions of civil
right and moral obligation. But this work, likewise, is no more than a testi-
mony of my internal incapacity ; a mere play of my reflective faculties. The
subject is not comprehensively viewed, nor is there a due exercise of power to
combat myself, or a sufficient tendency to that practical ability which was
requisite for my purposes. It only served to increase that deficiency within
myself, arising from a disproportion between my power and my knowledge,
which it was indispensable that I should fill up, though I grew every day more
unable to do so.

Nor did I reap more than I sowed. My book produced upon those around
me the same effect as did everything else I did; hardly any one understood
me ; and in my immediate neighborhood there were not two men to be found,
who did not hint that they considered the whole book as a heap of nonsense.
And even lately, a man of importance, who has much kindness for me, said
with Swiss familiarity: "Don't you now feel yourself, Mr. Pestalozzi, that when
you wrote that book you did not know what you wanted to be at ? " Thus,
however, to be misunderstood and wronged was my lot : but instead of profiting
by it, as I ought to have done, I warred against my misfortune with internal
scorn and a general contempt of mankind ; and by thus injuring the foundation,
which my cause ought to have had within myself, I did it infinitely more harm
than all those could do, by whom I was misunderstood and despised. Yet I
had not lost sight of my ami ; but my adherence to it was no more than the
obstinacy of a perverted imagination and a murmuring heart ; it was on a pro-
faned soil that T sought to cherish the sacred plant of human happiness.

I, who had just then, in my "Inquiries" declared the claims of civil right as
mere claims of our animal nature, and therefore essential impediments to moral
purity, the only thing that is of real value to human nature, now descended
so low, that amidst the violent convulsions of the revolution I expected the
mere sound of social systems, and of political theories, to produce a good effect
upon the men of my age, who, with few exceptions, lived upon mere puff and
swell, seeking power, and hankering after well-set tables.

My head was gray ; yet I was still a child. With a heart in which all the
foundations of life were shaken, I still pursued, hi those stormy times, my far
vorite object ; but my way was one of prejudice, of passion, and of error. To
bring to light the inveterate causes of social evils, to spread impassioned views
•of the social constitution and the unalterable basis of man's rights, nay, to turn
to account the spirit of violence which had risen up amongst us, for the cure of
some of the ills under which the people suffered ; such were the means by
which I hoped and sought to effect my purpose. But the purer doctrines of
rny former days had been but sound and word to the men among whom I lived ;
how much less, then, was it to be expected, that they should apprehend my
meaning hi the view which I now took. Even this inferior sort of truth they
contaminated by then* filth : they remained the same as ever ; and they acted
toward me in a manner which I ought to have anticipated, but which I did not
anticipate, because the dream of my wishes kept me suspended in mid-air, and

43

674 PESTALozzrs EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE.

my soul was a stranger to that selfishness by which I might have recognized
them in their true colors. I was deceived not only in every fox, but also in
every fool ; and to every one that came before me, and spoke well, I gave fun
credit for the sincerity of his intentions. With all this I knew more than any
one else about the people, and about the sources of their savage and degraded
condition ; but I wished nothing further than that those sources might be
stopped, and the evils which sprang from them arrested ; and the new men,
(novi homines) of Helvetia, whose wishes went further, and who had no knowl-
edge of the condition of the people, found, of course, that I was not made for
them. These men, in their new position, like shipwrecked women, took every
straw for a mast, on which the republic might be driven to a safe shore ; but
me, me alone, they took for a straw not fit for a fly to cling to.

They knew it not, they intended it not ; but they did me good, more good
than any men have ever done me. They restored me to myself; for, in the
amazement caused by the sudden change of their ship's repair into a shipwreck,
I had not another word left, but that which I pronounced in the first days of
confusion: "I will turn schoolmaster." For this I found confidence. I did:
turn schoolmaster. Ever since I have been engaged in a mighty struggle, and
compelled, as it were, in spite of myself, to fill up those internal deficiencies by
which my purposes were formerly defeated.

To lay before you, my friend, the whole of my existence, and my operations,
since that period, is my present task. Through Legrand I had made some in-
terest with the first Directoire for the subject of popular education, and I was
preparing to open an extensive establishment for that purpose in Argovie, when
Stanz was burnt down, and Legrand requested me to make the scene of mis-
ery the first scene of my operations. I went; I would have gone into the re-
motest clefts of the mountains, to come nearer to my aim ; and now I really did
come nearer. . . . But imagine my position. . . . Alone, destitute of all
means of instruction, and of all other assistance. I united in my person the
offices of superintendent, paymaster, steward, and sometimes chambermaid, in
a half-ruined house. I was surrounded with ignorance, disease, and with every
kind of novelty. Tfce number of children rose, by degrees, to eighty : all of
different ages ; some full of pretensions ; others inured to open beggary; and
all, with a few solitary exceptions, entirely ignorant. "What a task! to educate,
to develop these children, what a task !

I ventured upon it. I stood in the midst of these children, pronouncing va-
rious sounds, and asking them to imitate them; whoever saw it, was struck
with the effect. It is true it was a meteor which vanishes in the air as soon as
it appears. No one understood its nature. I did not understand it myself. It
was the result of a simple idea, or rather of a fact of human nature, which was
revealed to my feelings, but of which I was far from having a clear consciousness.

PESTALOZZL— METHODS OF ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION.

1. THE ELEMENTARY MEANS OF INSTRUCTION DEPEND UPON NUMBER, FORM,

AND SPEECH.

IDEAS of the elements of instruction were for a long time working in my
mind, vividly though indistinctly, until at last, like a " Deus ex machina," the
conception that the means of the elucidation of all our intuitional knowledge pro-
ceed from number, form, and speech, seemed suddenly to give me new light on
the point which I was investigating.

After long consideration of the subject — or rather, uncertain dreams about
it — I at last set myself to conceive how an educated man proceeds, and must
proceed, when endeavoring to abstract, and gradually make clear, any subject
now floating confusedly and dimly before his eyes.

In such a case, he will — and must — observe the three following points : — ••

1. How many subjects, or how various ones, are before him.

2. How they look; what is their form and outline.

3. What they are called ; how he can recall each to mind by means of a.
sound, a word.

The doing this evidently presupposes, in such a man, the following developed,
powers : —

1. The power of considering unlike objects in relation to their forms, and of
recalling to mind their material.

2. That of abstracting these objects as to their number, and of distinctly
conceiving them either as one or as many.

3. That of repeating by language, and fixing, so as not to be forgotten, the-
conception of an object as to number and form.

Thus I conclude that number, form, and speech are commonly the element-
ary means of instruction, since they include the whole sum of the external:
qualities of an object, so far as relates to its extent and number, and become-
known to my intellect through speech. Instruction, as an art, must thus, by
an invariable law, proceed from this threefold basis, and endeavor

1. To teach the children to consider any object brought before their con-
sciousness, as a unity ; that is, as separate from whatever it seems to be bound
up with.

2. To teach them an acquaintance with the form of each such object; its size
and relations.

3. To make them as early as possible acquainted with the whole circle of
words and names of all the objects known to them.

The instruction of children being to proceed from these three elementary
points, it is evident, again, that the first efforts of the art must be directed to
develop, establish, and strengthen, with the utmost psychological skill, the fun-
damental knowledge of numbering, measuring, and speaking, upon whose cor-
rect attainment depends the right knowledge of all visible objects ; and after-

($76 PESTALOZZI —METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

ward to bring the means of developing and training these three departments
of mental attainment to the highest degree of simplicity, of perfection, and of
agreement together.

The only difficulty which occurred to me upon the recognition of these three
elementary points was this: Why are not all those conditions of things, which
we recognize through the three senses, not elementary in the same sense, as
number, form, and speech ? But I soon observed that all possible objects have
number, form, and name; but that the other attributes, recognized through the
five senses, are not possessed in common with all others as those are, but only
sometimes one and sometimes another of them. Between the three attributes
of number, form, and name, and others, I also found this substantial and dis-
tinct difference — that I was unable to .make any of the others elementary points
of human knowledge ; while, on the contrary, I saw just as clearly that all
other such attributes of things as are recognized by the five senses, permit
themselves to be put into immediate relations with those three ; and in conse-
quence, that in the instruction of children, knowledge of all the other qualities
of subjects must be deduced immediately from the preliminary knowledge of
form, number and name. I saw that by my acquaintance with the unity, form,
and name of an object my knowledge of it becomes definite knowledge ; that
by gradually aiming to know all its other qualities, I acquire a clear knowl-
edge ; and by understanding the relations of all facts relative to it, I acquire an
intelligent knowledge.

I now proceeded further, and found that all our knowledge proceeds from
three elementary faculties, namely : —

1. The active faculty, which renders us capable of language.

2. The indefinite power of mere perception by the senses, which gives us our
consciousness of all forms.

3. The definite power of perception not by the senses alone, from which must
be gained the consciousness of unity, and through it the power of counting
and computing.

/ I thus concluded that the art of educating our race must be based upon the
first and simplest results of these three fundamental elements — sound, form, and
number ; and that instruction in any one department could and would never
lead to a result beneficial to our nature, considered in its whole compass, unless
these three simple results of our fundamental faculties should be recognized as
the universal starting-points for all instruction, fixed as such by nature herself;
and unless these results were accordingly developed into forms proceeding uni-
versally and harmoniously from them, and calculated efficiently and surely to
carry instruction forward to its completion, through the steps of a progression
unbroken, and dealing alike and equally with all three. This I concluded the
only means of proceeding in all three of these departments, from indistinct in-
tuitions to definite ones, from intuitions to clear perceptions, and from clear per-
ceptions to intelligent ideas.

Thus, moreover, I find art actually and most intimately united with nature,
or rather with the ideal by means of which nature makes the objects of the
creation known to us ; and so was solved my problem, viz., to discover a com-
mon origin of all the means of the art of instruction, and. at the same time, that
form of it in which the development of the race is defined by the constitution
.tself of our nature : — and the difficulty removed, in the way of applying the

PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. ()77

l;i\vs, which I recogni/ed as at the foundation of human instruction,
to that system of instruction which the experience of thousands of years has
given to the human race for its own development ; that is, to writing, arithme-
tic, reading, &c.

'2. THE FIRST KLKMENTARY MEANS OF INSTRUCTION is, ACCORDINGLY,

SOUND.
From this arise the following subdivisions of instruction: —

A. In Tones ; or, the means of training the organs of speech.

B. In Words; or, the means of becoming acquainted with single objects.

C. In Language ; or, the means of becoming able to express ourselves with
clearness relatively to such objects as become known to us, and to all which we
are capable of seeing in those objects.

To repeat these subdivisions.

A. Instruction in Tones. This, again, divides itself into instruction in speak-
ing tones, and singing tones.

a. Speaking tones.

With respect to these, it should not be left to chance whether they are heard
by the child at an early or late period ; and in great number or in small. It is
important that he should hear all of them, and as early as possible.

His knowledge of them should be complete, before he has attained the ability
to form them ; and in like manner his power of imitating them all and with fa-
cility should be completely developed, before the forms of the letters are laid
before him, and before his first exercises in reading.

The spelling-book must therefore contain all the sounds of which language
consists ; and should in every family be daily repeated by the child who is
studying them, in the presence of the child in the cradle; so that the knowl-
edge of those sounds may thus by frequent repetition become deeply impressed
upon the latter, and indeed be made quite indelible, even before it is able to
repeat one of them.

No one who has not seen it can imagine how the pronunciation of such sim-
ple sounds as ba, ba, ba, da, da, da, ma, ma, ma, la, la, la, &c., excites the at-
tention of young children, and stimulates them ; or of the gain to the general
powers of acquisition of the child which comes from the early acquaintance
with these sounds.

In accordance with this principle of the importance of the knowledge of
sound and tones, before the child can imitate them, and hi the conviction that
it is equally important what representations and objects come before the eyes
of young children, and what sounds come to his ears, I have composed a "Book
for Mothers ; " in which I explain, by illuminated wood-cuts, not only the fun-
damental points of number and form, but also the most important other attri-
butes with which the five senses make us acquainted ; and in which, by an
acquaintance with many names, thus assured, and rendered vivid by much
actual inspection, future reading is prepared for and made easy. In the same
way also, by practice in sounds, preparatory to spelling, I prepare and facilitate
this study also ; for by this book, I make these sounds at home and, I may say,
quarter them upon the child's mind, before the child can pronounce a syllable
of them.

I intend to accompany these cuts, for the youngest children, with a book of

678 PEHTALOZZI -METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

methods, in which every word which must be said to the child upon each sub-
ject elucidated, shall be stated so clearly that even the most inexperienced
mother can sufficiently attain my purpose ; for the reason that not a word will
need to be added to those which I shall set forth.

Thus prepared from the "Book for Mothers" and acquainted by actual practice
from the spelling-book with the entire extent of sounds, the child must, as soon as
his organs become trained to articulation, become accustomed to repeat over the
various columns of sounds in the spelling-book, with as much ease as he does
such other purposeless sounds as people give him to imitate.

This book diH'ers from all previous ones in this: that its method is universal;
and that the pupil himself proceeds in a visible manner, beginning with the
vowels, and constructing syllables by the gradual addition of consonants be-
hind and In-fore, in a manner which is comprehensive, and which perceptibly
facilitates spei-cli and reading.

My mi-tlii'd i<: to take each vowel with all the consonants one after another,
from 1) to /. and thus to form \t first the simple easy syllables, ab, ad, afj &c. I
and then to put before each of these simple syllables such consonants as are
actually so placed in common language; as, for instance, before ab, in succession,
b, g, sch. st. \-e. : making bab, gab, schab, &c. By going through all the vow-
els in this manner, with this simple prefixing of consonants, I formed first easy
syllables, and then, by prefixing more consonants, more difficult ones. This ex-
ercise necessitated manifold repetitions of the simple sounds, and a general and
orderly classification of all the syllables which are alike in their elements; re-
sulting in an indelible, impression of their sounds, which is a very great assist-
ance in learning to read.

The advantages of the book are explained in it, as follows: —

1. It keeps the child at spelling single syllables, until sufficient skill is ac-
quired in the exercises.

2. By the universal employment of similarities of sound, it renders the repeti-
tion of similar forms not disagreeable to the child, and thus facilitates the
design of impressing them indelibly on the mind.

3. It very rapidly enables the children to pronounce at once every new word
formed by the addition of new consonants to syllables already known, without
being obliged to spell them over beforehand ; and also to spell these combina-
tions by heart, which is afterward a great assistance in orthography.

In the short introduction prefixed to the book, explaining the use of it, moth-
ers are required themselves to repeat daily to their children, before they can
read, these series of sounds, and to pronounce them in different successions, so
as to attract attention, and to give an acquaintance with each separate sound.
This recitation must be prosecuted with redoubled zeal, and begun again from
the beginning, as soon as the children begin to speak, to enable them them-
selves to repeat them, and thus to learn quickly to read.

In order to make the knowledge of the written characters, which must pre-
cede spelling, easier to the children, I have annexed them to the spelling-book,
printed in a large character, in order to make their distinctions more easily dis-
cernible by the eye.

These letters are to be pasted separately on stiff paper, and put before the
children. The vowels are in red, to distinguish them, and must be learned
thoroughly, as well as their pronunciation, before goin^ further. After this

PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 679

they :uv by little and little to be taught the consonants, but always along with
a vo\vd : because they can not be pronounced without a vowel.

•on as the children, partly by their exercise, partly by the spelling which
I am about to describe, begin to have a sufficient knowledge of the letters, they
may be set at the threefold series of letters, also appended to the book ; where
in a smaller type, is given, over the German printed letter, the German written,
and the Roman printed letters. The child, reading each syllable in the form of
letter already familiar to him, and then repeating it in the other two, will learn
to read in all three alphabets, without any loss of time.

The same principle is still to be adhered to in these exercises : that every syl-
lable is nothing but a sound constructed by the addition of a consonant to a
vowel ; the vowel being thus always the foundation of the syllable. The vowel
Hhould be laid down first — or slid out on the spelling-board hung up on the
wall, \vliicli should have a groove at the upper and lower side, in which the let-
ters should stand and move easily backward and forward — and the consonants
added, in the order given in the book. Each syllable should at the same time
be pronounced by the teacher and repeated by the children, until indelibly im-
pressed on their minds. Then the teacher may ask for each letter, in its order
or out of it ; and make them spell the syllables when covered up out of sight.

It is very necessary, especially in the first part of the book, to proceed slowly,
and never to proceed to any thing new until what precedes it has been learned
beyond the power of forgetting; for upon this depends the foundation of the
whole course of instruction in reading, upon which what follows is to be built
by small and gradual additions.

When in this way the children have arrived at a certain degree of facility in
spelling it may be interchanged with exercises of another kind. Thus, for ex-
ample, a word may be spelled by beginning with one letter and adding the
others, one after another, until it is complete, pronouncing it as each letter is
added ; as, p, pi. pin. Then the reverse process may be followed, by taking
away one letter after another, and thus going backward in the same manner;
ivpi-.-iting it until the children can spell the word by heart, correctly. The same
thin- can also be done by beginning at the end of the word, instead of the be-
ginning.

Lastly, the word may be divided into syllables, the syllables numbered, and
repeated and spelled promiscuously by their numbers.

i;iv.-it advantages maybe gained in schools, by teaching the children, from
the beginning, to repeat the words all together at the same moment; so that the
sound produced by all shall be heard as a simple sound, whether the words
were repeated to them, or pointed out by the number of the letters or syllables.
This keeping time together renders the instructor's part quite mechanical, and
operates with incredible power upon the senses of the children.

When these exercises in spelling have been gone through with on the tablet,
the book itself is then to be put into the child's hand, as a first reading-book ;
and he is to be kept at work upon it until he has acquired the most complete
facility in reading it.

So much for instruction in the sounds of speech. I have to add a word, on
the sounds of singing. But as singing proper can not be reckoned a means of
proceeding from indistinct intuitions to clear ideas, that is, as one of the means
of instruction which I am at present discussing, but is rather a capacity, to be

080 PB8TA1 «)//! -METHODS (»F I N STKI fTION.

developed from other points of view, and for other purposes, I put ofl' i;
sideration to the time when I shall consider the system of education ; saying at
present only this: that singing, according to the general principle, begins with
what is simplest, completes this, and proceeds only gradually from it. when
completed, to the beginning of what is ne\v.

B. The second department of the domain of sound, or of the special elfmeut-
ary means of instruction derived from sound, is —

Instruction in words, or rather in names.

I havo already remarked that the child must receive its first instruction in
this department, also, from the " Book for Mothers.'1'1 This is so arranged, that the
most important subjects of the world, and especially those that, as generic
names, include whole classes of subjects within themselves, are discussed ; and-
the mother is enabled to make the child well-acquainted with the most import-
ant of all these names. By this course of proceeding, the chilu is prepared,,
even from its earliest years, for instruction in names ; that for the second spe-
cial means of instruction depending on the power of uttering sounds.

The instruction in names is given by means of series of names of the more
important subjects, from all the realms of nature, history, geography, and hu-
man vocations and relations. These columns of words are put into the child's -
hand immediately after the end of his studies in the spelling-book, as a mere
exercise in learning to read; and experience has shown me that it is possible
for the children to have completely committed to memory the columns, within
no more time than is required to learn to read them readily. The advantage of
so complete a knowledge of such various and comprehensive views of names
at this stage, is immeasurable, in relation to the facilitation of subsequent in-
struction.

C. The third special means of instruction proceeding from the faculty of
sounds is —

Instruction in language itself.

And here is the point at which begins to be developed the proper method by
which the art of instruction, by taking advantage of the development of the capaci-
ties of the human mind, can give an acquaintance with language which shall keep
up with the course of nature in general development. But I should say, rather,
here begins to develop itself the method by which, according to the will of the
Creator, man can secure himself from the hands of mere natural blindness and
natural capability for instruction, to be put into the hands of the higher powers
which have been developing in him for thousands of years ; the method by
•which the human race, independently — man— can secure for the development
of his powers that more definite and comprehensive tendency and that more
rapid progress, for which nature has given him power and means but no guid-
ance, and in which she can never guide him while he is man only ; the form in
which man can do all this without interfering with the loftiness and simplicity
of the physical development of nature, the harmony that exists in our merely--
sensuous development ; without taking away any part of ourselves, or a single
hair of that uniform protection which mother nature exercises over even the
mere physical development.

All these attainments must be reached by means of a finished art of teaching
language, and the highest grade of psychology; thus securing the utmost per-
fection in the mechanism of the natural progression from confused intuitions to •

I'KSTAI.O//!. -MKTIIODS OF INSTRUCTION, (jy)

intelligent ideas. This is. in truth, far beyond my powers; and I feel myself to
be, on this subject, as the voice of one crying in the wilderness.

But the Egyptian, who first fastened a shovel with a crooked handle to the
horn of an ox, and thus taught him to perform the labor of a man at digging,
thus prepared the way for the invention of the plow, although he did not bring
it to perfection. .

My services are only the first bending of the shovel-handle, and the fastening
of it to a new horn, But why do I speak by similitudes? I ought to and will
state what I mean, plainly, and without circumlocution.

I desire to remove the imperfections from school instruction; both from the
obsolete system of stammering servile old schoolmasters, and from the later sys-
tem which has by no means taken its place — in the common schools; and to
knit it to the immovable power of nature herself, and to the light which God
kindles and ever maintains in the hearts of fathers and mothers ; to the desires
of parents that their children may be respectable before God and man.

In order to define the form of our instruction in language, or rather the vari-
ous forms in which its object can be gained, that is, through which we are to
become able to express ourselves distinctly on subjects with which we are ac-
quainted, and as to every thing which we see about them, we must inquire : —

1. What is man's ultimate object in language?

2. What are the means, or rather what is the progression, through which na-
ture herself, by the gradual development of the faculty of language, brings us
to this end ?

The answer to the first question is, evidently : To bring our race from ob-
Bcure intuitions to intelligent ideas ; and to the second : The means by which
she gradually brings us to this end have, unquestionably, this order of suc-
cession, viz.: —

a. We recognize an object generally, and designate it as a unity — an object.

b. We become generally acquainted with its characteristics, and learn to des-
ignate them.

c. We acquire, through language, the power of defining more in detail these
traits, by verbs and adverbs, and making clear to ourselves their modifications
by modifications in words themselves, and in their juxtaposition.

1. On the effort to learn the names of objects, I have already spoken.

2. Efforts to comprehend and to teach the names of the qualities of objects
as desirable, are divided into —

a. Efforts to teach the child to express himself with distinctness in relation
to number and form : (Number and form, as qualities possessed by all things,
are the two most comprehensive universal abstractions of physical nature ; and
are the two central points to which are referred all other means of rendering
our ideas intelligent.)

b. Efforts to teach the child to express himself with distinctness upon all
other qualities of things, besides number and form; as well those qualities
which are perceived through the five senses, as those which are perceived, not
by means of a simple intuition of them, but by means of our faculties of imag-
ination and judgment.

Children must early become accustomed to consider with ease form and
number, the first physical universal qualities which the experience of thou-
sands of years has taught us to abstract from the nature of all things ; and to

.(382 I'Ksi'A i. o/./; MKTIIODS or INSTKI nmv

•consider them, not mnvly as qualities inherent in each particular thing, but ad
physical universal qualities. He must not only learn early to distinguish a
round and a triangular thing as such, but must as early as possible have im-
pressed upon his mind the idea of circularity, and triangularity, as a pure ab-
straction ; so that he may be able to apply the proper term, expressing this
universal abstract idea, to whatever occurs to him in nature which is round,
triangular, simple, fourfold, &c. Here also comes up clearly the reason why
speech is to be and must bo treated as a means of expressing form and num-
ber, in a special manner, differing from its treatment as a means of expressing
all the other qualities which we observe in natural objects by the five senses.

I therefore began, even in the "Book for Mothers," to lead the children to-
ward the clear knowledge of those universal qualities. This book furnishes
both a comprehensive view of the most usual forms and the simplest means of
making the first relations of numbers intelligible to the child.

More advanced steps toward this purpose must, however, together with the
corresponding exercises in language, be put off to a later period, and must be
connected with the special exercises in number and form, which two, as the
elementary points of our knowledge, must be taken up after a full course of
exercises in language.

The cuts in the elementary manual for this instruction, the '' Book for Moth-
ers, or for the earliest childhood," are so selected as to bring forward all the uni-
versal physical qualities of which we become aware through the five senses;
and as to enable mothers readily to give their children the command of the
most definite expressions relative to them, without any pains of their own.

As relates, next, to those qualities of things which become known to us, not
immediately through the five senses, but through the separating powers of our
faculty of comparison, imagination, and faculty of abstraction, in regard to
them also, I adhere to my principle, not to endeavor to bring any human opin-
ion to a premature ripeness, but to make use of the necessary knowledge of
the appropriate abstract terms by the children, as a mere exercise of memory ;
and also to some extent as a light nourishment for the play of their imagina-
tions and of their powers of forethought.

In reference to such objects as we recognize immediately by the five senses,
and in reference to which it is necessary to teach the child as quickly as possi-
ble to express himself with precision, I take from a dictionary substances whose
most prominent qualities are such as we can distinguish by the five senses, and
put down with them the adjectives which describe those qualities ; as —

(Aal) Eel. Slippery, worm-shaped, tough-skinned.

(Aas.) Carcass. Dead, offensive.

(Abend.) Evening. Quiet, cheerful, cool, rainy.

(Achse.) Axle. Strong, weak, greasy.

(Acker:) Field. Sandy, clayey, sowed, manured, fertile, profitable, unprofit-
able.

Then I reverse this proceeding, and in the same way select from the dictiona-
ry adjectives expressing distinguishing qualities of objects recognized by the
five senses, and set down after them the substantive names of objects
ing them :

Rou'i Ba '. hat, moon, sun

Light. Feather, down, air.

PESTALOZZ1 -METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. gg3

Heavy. Gold, lead., oak-wood.

Hot. Oven, summer-day, fire.

High. Tower, mountain, giants, trees.

Deep. Oceans, seas, cellars, graves.

Soft. Flesh, wax, butter.

Elastic, Steel-springs, whalebone.

I did not endeavor, by completing these explanatory suffixes, to diminish the
'field of the child's independent intellectual activity ; but only gave a few terms,
calculated to appeal distinctly to his senses, and then inquired, in continuation:
What else can you mention of the same sort?

In far the greatest number of cases the children found that their experience
furnished them additional terms, frequently such as had not occurred to the
teacher ; and thus their circle of knowledge was widened and elucidated in a
manner either impossible by the catechetical method, or possible only with a
hundred times greater expenditure of art and exertion.

In all proceedings by catechisation, the child is constrained, in part by the
limits of the defined idea respecting which he is catechised, in part by the
form in which it is done, in part by the limits of the teacher's knowledge, and
lastly, and more important, by the limits of a painful care lest they should get
out of the regular artistic track. "What unfortunate limitations for the child !
but in my course they are avoided.

Having finished this portion of study, I proceed, by means of the dictionary,
to communicate to the child, now variously acquainted with the objects of the
world, a further increase of the gradually growing clearness of his knowledge
of objects so far as known to him.

For this purpose, I divide language, that great witness of the past respecting
all that now exists, into four chief heads, viz. : —

1. Geography.

2. History.

3. Nature.

4. Natural History.

But in order to avoid all unnecessary repetition of the same words, and to
make the form of instruction as brief as possible, I divide these chief heads into
some forty subheads, and bring the names of objects before the children only
under these latter subdivisions.

I then turn attention to that great object of my intuitions, myself; or
rather, to that whole series of terms in language which relate to myself; by
bringing all that language, that great witness of the past, says upon man under
the following chief heads.

First head. What does language say of man, considered as a merely phys-
ical being; as a member of the animal world?

Second head. What does she say of him as striving toward physical inde-
pendence by means of the social state ?

Third head. What does she say of him as a reasoning being, striving for
inner independence ; or self-improvement?

I then divide these three chief heads, as before, into some forty subheads,
and bring them before the children only under the latter.

The first exhibition of these series of names, both relating to men and to the
other subjects of the world, must be strictly alphabetical, without any inter-

684 PESTALOZZI -METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

mixture of any opinion, and not as any consequence of any opinion ; but a
gradually increased clearness in the knowledge of them must be attained merely
by the juxtaposition of similar intuitions, and similar intuitional ideas.

When this has been done, when the witness of the past as to all that now
exists has thus been made useful in the whole simplicity of her alphabetical
arrangement, I propose this question: —

How does the method arrange these subjects further, for fuller definition?
To answer this, a new labor begins. The same columns of words with which
the child has become acquainted in seven or eight columns, in an alphabetical
order, almost beyond the possibility of forgetting them, are laid before him
again, in the same columns, but in a classified manner, by which the method
arranges them very differently, and enables the child himself to arrange Ihrm
on the new principle.

The plan is this: The different heads, under which the words are to he newly
arranged, are put in a row, and distinguished by a series of numbers, .-ilil.rcvia-
tions, or some other arbitrary marks.

The child must, during his first studies in reading, become thoroughly master
of this series of heads ; and he may then find, in the columns of words, against
each \v<>nl. the mark of that head under which it belongs; and thus he fan. at
first sight of the figure, tell under what head it belongs, and thus himself alter
the alphabetical nomenclature into a scientific one.

I do not know that this plan needs to be illustrated by an example; but,
though it seems to me almost superfluous, I will still give one, on account of
the newness of the plan. Thus, for instance, one of the subdivisions of Europe
is Germany. Let the child first become acquainted, beyond the power of for-
getting them, with the subdivision of Germany into ten circles. Now let the
names of the cities of Germany be laid before him in alphabetical order, to
be read ; there being, at the name of each city, the number of the circle in
which it lies. As soon as he can read these names of cities fluently, let him be
shown how the numbers annexed to them refer to the heads above, and the
child will after a few lessons be able to locate all the cities of Germany accord-
ing to the heads thus set above them. Let there be put before him, for instance,
the following names of German places, with figure* : —

Aachen, 8 Allendorf, 5 Alti-na, 10

Aalen, 3 Allersperg, 2 Altorf, 1

Abendberg, 4 Alschausen, 3 Altranstadt, 9

Aberthan, 11 Alsleben, 10 Altwasser, 13

Acken, 10 Altbunzlau, 11 Alkerdissen, 8

Adersbach, 11 Altena, 8 Amberg, 2

Agler, 1 Altenau, 10 Arnbras, 1

Ahrbergen, 10 Altenberg, 9 Amoneburi', &

Aigremont, 8 Altenburg, 9 Andernach, 6.

Ala, 1 Altensalza, 10

Allenbach, 5 Altkirchen, 8

He may then read these as follows: —
Aachen is in the Westphalian circle.
Abendberg is in the Franconian circle.
Aacken is in the Lower Saxon circle ; Ac.
The child will thus evidently be enabled, at the first glance at the number or

PESTAI.OZZ I -METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. (}£5

mark which distinguishes the head under which any word belongs, to determine
it ; and thus, as was said, to change the alphabetical nomenclature into a scien-
tific one.

And having gone so far, I find myself, in this direction, at the limit of my
course, as peculiar to me ; and the powers of the children so developed, that
4;hey can, in any department of the method to which their disposition inclines
them, and to which they are inclined to attend, make an independent use for
themselves of the means of assistance which already exist in all these depart-
ments, 'but which are of such a character that, hitherto, only a few fortunate
persons have been able to use them. To this point, and no further, have I
sought to attain. What I desired, and desire, was, not to teach the world any
art or science — for I know none — but to make more easy for the people at
large the mastery of the points of commencement of all arts and sciences ; to
open to the powers of the poor and weak in the country, neglected and given
up to desolation, the approaches to learning, which are the approaches to hu-
manity ; and, if possible, to burn down the barrier which keeps the more lowly
of the citizens of Europe far behind the barbarians of the north and south in
respect to independent intellectual power, which is the basis of all efficient ac-
quirement. It keeps them so, because, notwithstanding our windy boastings on
universal enlightenment, it deprives ten men to one of the right of all men in
society, the right of being instructed ; or at least of the possibility of making
use of this right.

May that barrier, after my death, burn up with a bright flame I But yet I

know that I myself am only one feeble coal, lying among wet straw. But I

Bee a wind, and that not far off, which shall kindle the coal into a blaze ; the

wet straw around me will gradually dry, grow warm, kindle, and at last burn.

owever wet it is round me now, it will burn, it will burn 1

But I have occupied so much time with the second of the special means of
instruction in language, that I find I have not yet said any thing of the third
of those means, by which is to be attained the last purpose of instruction, the
rendering our ideas intelligent. It is this : —

c. The endeavor to enable the child correctly to define, by language, the con-
nections of objects with each other, and their intermodifications by number,
tii in-, and relation ; or, rather, to make still better understood the existence, the
qualities, and the powers of all those objects of which knowledge has been
gained by the study of names, and made clear to a certain extent by juxtaposi-
tion of their names and their qualities.

From this point of view we may discern the foundations on which a real
grammar is to be constructed, and, at the same time, the further progression by
which, through this means, we are to arrive at the last purpose of instruction,
the rendering intelligent of ideas.

Here, also, I prepare the children for the first steps by very simple but still
psychological instruction in speaking; and, without a word of any form or rule,
I cause the mother first to repeat to the child, as mere exercises in speaking,
sentences, which are to be repeated after her, almost as much on account of the
training of the organs of speech, as of the sentences themselves. The two ob-
jects, practice in speaking and the learning of words as language, must be
kept apart from each other; and the former must also be attended to by itself,
by proper exercises. In the exercises for both purposes at once, then, the
mother repeats to the child the following sentences: —

<j£ J PESTALOZZI.— METHODS F INSTRUCTION.

The father is kind.

The butterfly has variously-colored wings.

Cattle eat grass.

The pine is straight-stemmed.*

When the child has pronounced these so often that it is easy for him, the
mother inquires, "Who is good? What has various-colored wings?" And
again, "What is the father? What has the butterfly?" And so on, as
follows : —

Who is ? What are ?

Carnivorous beasts eat flesh.

Deer are light-footed.

Boots are spread out.

Who has? What has?

The lion hath strength.

Man has reason.

The hound has a keen scent.

The elephant has a trunk, &c., &c.

Thus I proceed, through the whole extent of the declensions and conjuga-
tions, to unite the first and second steps of these exercises ; going also, in par-
ticular, into the use of the verbs, after a mode of which I give the following
examples : —

Sim/pie Connection.
Regard — the teacher's words.
Breathe — through the lungs.
Bend — a tree.
Tie— a sheaf, the stockings, &c.

After this comes the second species of exercise, in verbs in composition ; as,

Regard. I regard (acltte) the teacher's words, my duty, my estate. I regard
one person more than another ; I judge (erachte) whether a thing is so, or other-
wise; I take an important matter into consideration (pbacht ;}\ watch over (beo-
bachte) a man whom I do not trust, an affair which I am desirous of arranging,
and my duty ; a good man honors (hochacktet) virtue, and despises (verachtet)
vice.

So far as a man regards any thing, he is attentive (acMsarri) to it ; so far as he
does not regard it, he is inattentive (unachtsam.)

I regard myself more than everything else; and care more for (achten auf)
myself than every thing else.

Then I proceed to enlarge the sphere of these exercises by additions gradu-
ally more extensive, and thus progressively more variously developed and more
definite; as, for instance: —

I shall.

I shall gain.

I shall gain my health by no other means.

I shall gain my health, after all that I have suffered, by no other means.

I .shall gain my health, after all that I have suffered in my illness, by no other
means.

I shall gain my health, after all that I have suffered in my sickness, by no
other means than by temperance, &c., &c.

All these sentences are then each to be carried through the whole tense-
conjugation; as,

I shall gain.

Thou wilt gain, &c.

I shall gain my health.

Thou wilt gain thy health, &c.

The same may then be carried through the different tenses.

Care is taken to select, for these sentences, so firmly to be fixed in the child's

' In the German, all these sentences are constructed precisely like the first ; and are as
simple. — Trans.

PESTALOZZI .-METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. <jg7

mmu, such as shall be particularly instructive, elevating, and suitable to his-
condition.

With them I join examples of description of material objects, in order to ex-
ercise and strengthen in the children the powers which these exercises develop
in them. For instance : —

A bell is a bowl or vessel, open below, wide, thick, round, usually hanging
free, growing smaller from below up, egg-shaped at the top, and having in the
middle of it a perpendicular bar, hanging loose, which, upon a violent motion of
thu bell, strikes it from below on both sides, and thus occasions the sound which
we hear from it.

Go. To move forward step by step.

Stand. To rest on the leg^s with the body upright.

Lie. To rest upon any thing with the body horizontal, &c., &c.

I would gladly leave these exercises in language, at my death, as a legacy to
my pupils, making them, by means of brief observations annexed to the more
important verbs, a vehicle for conveying to their minds the same impressions
which have been made upon my own, by the experiences of my life on the sub-
jects of their significance. Thus I would make these exercises in words a
means of imparting truth, correct views, and pure feelings on all the doings and
failings of men. For example : —

Breathe, (athmen.} Thy life depends upon a breath. Man ! when thou snort-
est like a tyrant, and inspirest the pure air of the earth like poison into thy
lungs, what doest thou but to hasten to become breathless, and so free humanity,
weary of thy snorting, from thy presence.

But I must leave this part of the subject.

I have dwelt at length upon language as a means of the gradual clearing up
of our ideas. But it is the most important means for that purpose. My meth-
od of instruction is distinguished especially in this, that it makes more use of
language, as a means of lifting the child from obscure intuitions to intelligent
ideas, than has heretofore been the case; and also in this, that it excludes
from the first elementary instruction all combinations of words which presup-
pose an actual knowledge of language. Any one who admits how nature leads
to intelligent comprehension of all things by a clear comprehension of single
things, will admit also that single words must be clearly understood by the
child before he can intelligently comprehend them in connection; and any one
who admits this, rejects at once all the received elementary books of instruc-
tion ; for they all presuppose an acquaintance with language in the child before
they communicate it to him. It is a remarkable fact that even the best school-
book of the last century forgot that the child must learn to talk before he can
be talked with. This omission is remarkable, but it is true ; and since I ob-
served it, I have wondered no longer that we can develop children into other
men than were trained by those who had so far forgotten both the piety and
the wisdom of antiquity. Language is an art — an immeasurable art ; or, rather,
the compendium of all the arts which our race has acquired. It is in a peculiar
sense the reflection of all the impressions which the whole extent of nature has.
made upon our race. As such I use it, and seek, by means of its spoken
sounds, to produce in the children the same impressions which have occasioned
the production of the sounds by mankind. The gift of speech is a great one.
It gives the child, in a moment, what it has taken nature thousands of years to
give mankind. It is said of the poor beast, What would he be if he knew his.
strength? And I say of man. What would lie be if he knew his strength —
through language?

PBSTALOZZL— METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

It is a great defect in the very heart of human education, that we have been
so forgetful of what was proper, as not only to do nothing toward teaching
the lower classes to speak, but as to have permitted the speechless to learn by
rote isolated abstract terms.

In truth, the Indians could not do more in order to keep their lower classes
eternally in stupidity, and in the lowest ranks of humanity.

Let these facts be denied by any one who dares. I appeal to all clergymen,
all authorities, all men who live among the people, who, in the midst of their
so great carelessness, are subjected to such a distorted and mistaken model of
fatherly care. Let any one who has lived among such a people stand forward,
-and testify whether he has not experienced how difficult it is to get any idea
into the heads of the poor creatures. But all are agreed on the point. " Yes,
yes," say the clergy; "When they come to us they do not understand one
word of our instructions." "Yes, yes," say the judges; "However right they
are, it is impossible for them to make any one understand the justice of their
•cause." The lady says, pitifully and proudly, they are scarcely a step in advance
of beasts ; they can not be trained to any service. Fools, who can not count
five, look upon them as more foolish than themselves, the fools ; and villains of
all sorts cry out, each with the gesture natural to him, "Well for us that it is
so ! If it were otherwise, we could no longer buy so cheaply, nor sell so dearly."

Nearly the same is the speech of all the boxes of the great European Chris-
tian comic theater, regarding the pit : and they can not speak otherwise of it ;
for they have been for a century making the pit more mindless than any Asiatic
or heathen one would be. I repeat my position once more : — The Christian
people of our portion of the world is sunken to this depth, because, for more
than a century, in its lower schools, a power over the human mind has been ac-
. corded to empty words, which not only in itself destroyed the power of atten-
tion to the impressions of nature, but destroyed the very susceptibility itself of
men to them. I say, once more, that while this has been done, and has made
of our European Christian people the most wordy, rattle-box people on the face
of the earth, they have not been taught to speak. This being the case, it is no
wonder that the Christianity of this centur}'- and this part of the world has its
present prospects; it is, on the contrary, a wonder that, considering all the
bungling methods which have been proved upon it in our wordy and rattle-box
schools, it has retained so much of its native force as can still be recognized
every where in the hearts of the people. But, God be praised ! the folly of all
these apish methods will always find an end, an antagonist in human nature
itself; and will cease to injure our race, when it has reached the highest point
of its apishness which can be endured. Folly and error, in whatever garb, con-
tain the seeds of their own transitoriness and destruction ; truth alone, in every
form, contains within itself the seeds of eternal life.

The second elementary means, from which all human knowledge, and conse-
quently the existence of all means of instruction, proceeds and must proceed, is

FORM.

Instruction in form must precede the conscious intuition of things having
form ; whose representation, for purposes of instruction, must be deduced in
part from the nature of the means of intuition, and in part from the purpose ot
instruction itself.

The whole sum of our knowledge comes,

PESTALOZZI.-METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. QQCj

1. Through the impressions derived from all things around us, when brought
into relation with our five senses. This mode of intuition is without rule, con-
fused, and its progress is very confused and tedious.

2. Through whatever is brought before our senses by the intervention of
methodic guidance, so far as this depends upon our parents and teachers. This
mode of intuition naturally corresponds to the intelligence and activity of our
parents and teachers, in respect to comprehensiveness and connection ; and is
of a more or less correct psj^chological character ; and, according to the same
rule, it pursues a course more or less rapid, and leading with more or less speed
and certainty toward the purpose of instruction, the attainment of intelligent
ideas.

3. Through our own determination to attain to knowledge, and to obtain intui-
tions by our independent striving after the various means of them. Knowl-
edge thus attained possesses a positive and proper value ; and, by giving to the
results of our intuitions a free existence within ourselves, brings us nearer to
the attainment of a moral influence upon our own education.

4. Through the results of effort and labor in our callings, and all activity
which has not mere intuition as its object. This department of knowledge con-
nects our intuitions with our situations and relations ; brings the results of those
intuitions into agreement with our duty and with virtue ; and, both by the con-
straining force of its progress and by our purposelessness as to its results, a
most important influence upon the correctness, completeness, and harmony of
our views, as related to the attainment of our purpose, intelligent ideas.

5. Through a means analogous to our intuitional knowledge ; inasmuch as it
instructs us in the properties of things not pertaining properly to our intuitions,
but in which we perceive a similarity to things which we know by our intui-
tions. This mode of intuition enables us to make our progress in knowl-
edge, which, as a result of actual intuition, is only the work of the five senses,
the work of our minds and of all their powers ; so that thus we enjoy as many
kinds of intuition as we have powers of mind. But the term intuition, in this
latter sense, has a more extended meaning than in the common usage of lan-
guage ; and includes the whole range of feelings which are by nature insepa-
rable from my mind.

It is important to be acquainted with the distinction between these two kinds
of intuitions ; in order to be able to comprehend the rules which apply to each
of them.

With this purpose, I return to the course of my discussion.

From the consciousness of intuition of things having form, comes the art of
geometry. This however depends upon a power of intuition which it is
important to distinguish from the primary means of knowledge, as well as from
the mere simple intuition of things. From this power of intuition are devel-
oped all the departments of geometry and those deduced from them. But
this very faculty of intuition leads us, by the comparison of different objects, be-
yond the rules of surveying, to a freer imitation of the relations between those
objects — to drawing; and, lastly, we make use of the art of drawing in
writing.

GEOMETRY.

This presupposes an intuitional ABC; that is, the power of simplifying and
defining the rulos of geometry by the accurate distinction of all the dissimilari-
ties which ci'tnG before the intuition.

690 PESTALOZZI —METHODS OF INSTRUCTION

I will draw attention again to the empirical succession which led me to my.
views on this subject, and will give for this purpose an extract from my Report.

In this I say, "Having granted the principle that intuition is the basis of all
knowledge, it follows irresistibly that correct intuition is the proper basis of the
most correct opinions.

" But with reference to the method of education, thorough correctness of in-
tuition is evidently a result of measuring the subject to be judged of, or else of
a faculty of perceiving relations, so far developed as to make such measuring
superfluous. Thus a readiness at measuring correctly has, in education, an im-
mediate relation to the necessity of intuition. -Drawing is a linear definition of
forms, whose shape and contents are correctly and fully defined by means of a
developed power of measuring.

"The principle that practice and readiness in measuring should precede prac-
tice in drawing, or at least must keep pace with it, is as obvious as it is unused.
But the process of our methods of education is, to begin with incorrect seeing;
to build awry, then to pull down, and so on ten times over, until after a long
time the sense of relations becomes developed, and then at last we come to
what we should have begun with — to measuring. Such is the proceeding of
our methods, and yet we are so many thousands of years older than the Egyp-
tians and Etruscans, whose drawings all depend upon a trained power of meas-
uring, or in fact were at bottom nothing than measurings.

" And now the question comes up, By what means is the child to be trained
to this basis of all art, the right meaning of objects which come before his eyes ?
Evidently by a succession including the whole of all possible intuitions ; and
by an analysis of the square, according to simple, certain, and definite rules.

" Young artists, in the absence of such elementary exercises, find the means,
by long practice in their art, of acquiring greater or less facility in so placing
any object before their eyes and imitating it as it is hi nature. And it can not
be denied that many of them, by painful and long-continued efforts, have, from
the most confused intuitions, attained to a sense of relations so far advanced
that the measuring of objects is superfluous to them. But then each individual
had a different system; none of them had any nomenclature, for none of them
had any distinct conscious comprehension of the system ; and, accordingly, they
could not properly communicate it to their scholars. The latter were thus in
the same condition in which'their teachers had been, and were obliged to attain,
the same result— correct sense of relations — with the extremest exertion and
by long practice, and with their own means, or rather with no means at all.
Thus art remained in the possession of a few fortunate individuals, who had
time and leisure to travel by such an incommodious road to the requisite attain-
ment. Art could not be considered as concerning all men, nor could instruc-
tion in it be demanded as a universal right, although it is such. At least, this
can not be denied by any one who admits that it is the right of living men, in
an enlightened state, to be able to learn reading and writing; for the tenden-
cies to draw, and the capacity for measuring, develop naturally and freely in
the child ; while the painstaking efforts which must be made in order to bring
him to spell and read, must be applied either with great skill or with harshness
and violence, if they are not to injure him more than reading is worth to him
And drawing, if it is to promote the aim of instruction, the attainment of intel-
ligent ideas, is necessarily connected with the measuring of forms. The child

PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. ggj

before whom an object is placed to be drawn before he can represent to him-
self its proportions in their whole form, and express himself upon it, can never
make the art, as it should be, an actual means of proceeding from obscure intui-
tions to intelligent ideas ; nor procure from it the actual substantial advantage,
throughout his whole education and in harmony with the great purpose of it,
which it ought to and can afford him."

In order to establish the art of drawing upon this basis, it must be subordin-
ated to that of geometry ; and the subdivisions into angles and curves which
proceed from the rudimental form of the square, as well as the divisions of
curves by straight lines, must be arranged into regularly classified geometrical
forms. This has been done; and I believe that I have arranged a series of geo-
metrical forms, whose use will as much facilitate the child's acquisition of geom-
etry, and his acquaintance with the proportions of all forms, as does the alpha-
bet of sounds his studies in language.

This intuitional alphabet* is a symmetrical subdivision of an equilateral square
into fixed geometrical forms, and evidently requires a knowledge of the origin
of the square ; that is, of horizontal and perpendicular lines.

The subdivision of the square by right lines produces means of determining
and measuring angles, circles, and all curves.

This is brought before the child in the following manner: —

The qualities of the right line are first explained to him by itself alone, and
drawn in various arbitrary directions; until a variety of exercises has given
him a clear apprehension of it, without reference to any ulterior application.
He is next made acquainted with right lines, as horizontal, perpendicular, and;
oblique, and to distinguish them as inclining or extending toward the right or
left ; then with various parallel lines and their names, as horizontal, perpen-
dicular, and inclined parallels; then with the names of the different varieties
of angles formed by the intersection of these lines, so that he can distinguish!
them as right, acute, and obtuse angles. He is then made acquainted with the
primitive of all geometrical forms, the equilateral triangle, which is formed by
the junction of two angles, and with its divisions into halves, fourths, sixths,.
&c. ; and then with the circle and its variations, and to recognize and name-
them and their forms.

All these definitions are to be done merely by the power of the eye ; and the
names of the geometrical forms are, in this part of the studies, merely square;
horizontal and perpendicular quadrilateral, or rectangle; circle, semicircle,
quarter-circle ; first-oval, half-oval, and quarter-oval ; second, third, &c., oval ;
and thus he must be introduced to the use of these forms as means of geomet-
rical study; and must learn the nature of the relations by which they are
generated.

* I should here observe that the alphabet of intuition is the indispensable and only true
means of instruction in judging correctly of the forms of all things. Yet it has hitherto
been entirely neglected, until it is entirely unknown. For instruction in number and speech,
on the contrary, there are a hundred such means But this want of means of instruction in
form is not merely a simple defect in the system of education to human knowledge— it is
also a breach in the necessary foundations of all knowledge. It is a defect of knowledge
upon a point to which knowledge of number and speech must be subordinated. My alpha-
bet of intuition will supply this serious defect in instruction, and assure the basis upon which
all other means of instruction must be founded. I beg sue h Germans as may be inclined to
form an opinion on the subject, to consider this position as the basis of my method ; upon
whose correctness or incorrectness depends fhe value or worthlessness of all my researches.

692 PE3TALOZZI.— METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

The first means of reaching these results is —

1. The endeavor to teach the child to recognize and name the relations ol
these geometrical forms.

2. To enable him to know and make use of them independently.

Preparation for this purpose has already been made in the "Book for Moth-
ers;" and. various objects set before him — triangular, round, oval, wide, long,
and narrow. After this, various detached portions of the alphabet of intuition
are set before him, as a quadrilateral in quarters, eighths, sixths, &c., and cir-
cles, and half and quarter-circles, ovals, and half and quarter-ovals ; thus furn-
ishing him in advance with an obscure consciousness of the clear conception
which he must acquire under the instruction of the method, and the subsequent
application of these forms. He is also prepared for this conception and appli-
cation in the " Book for Mothers" in which are given, on one hand, the rudi-
ments of a definite nomenclature for these forms, and, on the other, the com-
mencement of arithmetic, which presupposes geometry.

The study of the alphabet of intuition will lead toward the same end ; for in
that alphabet speech and number, the means before used for attaining an ob-
scure consciousness, are made more clearly applicable to the definite aim of
geometry, and thus the pupil will gain a more assured power of expressing him-
self definitely as to the number and proportion of all forms.

3. The third means of attaining this purpose is the copying of forms them-
selves ; by means of which the children, using at the same time the two other
means above-mentioned, will generally gain not only intelligent ideas as to each
form, but the power of laying off each form with certainty. In order to gain
the first of those steps, the relations of the forms known to them in the first
course as horizontal and perpendicular quadrilaterals, are now to be brought out
by teaching them that " Horizontal quadrilateral, two are twice as long as wide ;
perpendicular quadrilateral, two are twice as high as wide," &c. ; going through
all the parts of the figure also. In this exercise, also, on account of the various
directions of the inclined lines of some quadrilaterals, it must be shown that, of
the horizontal ones, some are once and a half times as high as wide, &c., until
the description is easy. In like manner are to be studied the various directions
of inclined lines, and of acute and obtuse angles, as well as the various subdi-
visions of the circle, and the ovals and their parts, arising from the subdivisions '
of the square.

By the recognition of these definite forms, the geometrical faculty develops
from an uncertain natural faculty of intuition to an artistic power according to
definite rules ; from which comes that power of judging correctly of the rela-
tions of all forms, which I call the power of intuition. This is a new power;
which must precede the former usual and recognized views of the artistic culti-
vation of our powers, as their common and actual basis.

By means of it, every child arrives, in the simplest manner, at the power of
rightly judging of every object in nature according to its inner relations, and its
relations to other objects ; and of expressing himself with distinctness relatively
to it. By this method of proceeding he becomes able, when he sees any figure,
to define it accurately, not only as to the proportion between hight and breadth,
but as to the relations of every variation of its form from the equilateral tri-
un-lc. in curves and crooked outlines; and to apply to all these the names by
which lliesc variations should be designated in the alphabet of intuition. The

PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 693

means of attaining this power are within geometry itself, and are to be devel-
oped still further by drawing, especially by linear drawing ; and carried to such
a point, that his power of definitely measuring objects, with such a degree of
skill and accuracy, that after completing his course of elementary exercises he
will no longer need, even in the case of the most complicated objects, to pro-
ceed by actual geometrical rules, but can without assistance correctly determine
the relations of all their parts amongst each other, and express himself distinctly
respecting them.

Even children of inferior capacity attain to indescribably great results by the
development of this power. This assertion is no dream. I have taught chil-
dren on these principles ; and my theory on this subject is nothing except a re-
sult of my experience upon it. Let any one come and see the children. They
are still at the beginning of the course, but their beginning has carried them so
far that it must be a very extraordinary kind of man who can stand by and not
quickly be convinced ; and still their progress is by no means extraordinary.

DRAWING

Is the ability to represent to one's self, in similar lines, the outlines of any
object and what is contained within them, by means of merely looking at the
object, and thus to imitate it correctly.

This art is facilitated out of all measure by the new method, since it is,
throughout, an easy application of forms which have not only been brought be-
fore the intuition of the child, but by practice in imitating which he has ac-
quired actual geometrical ability.

The mode pursued is as follows : — As soon as the child can correctly and
readily draw the straight horizontal lines with which the alphabet of intuition
begins, there are sought for him, out of the chaos of intuitions, figures whose
outline requires nothing but the application of the horizontal lines which are
already easy to him, or at most only a not noticeable departure from them.

Then we proceed to the perpendicular line, and then to the right-angled trian-
gle, &c. ; and, in proportion as the child is more assured in the simple application of
these forms, we gradually pass from them to the application of them. The results
of the application of this rule, entirely coincident with the essence of physico-
mechanical laws, are no less in drawing than are those of the use of the alpha-
bet of intuition upon the geometrical powers of the child. In this course they
become thoroughly acquainted with the first elements of drawing before going
further ; and accordingly, even in the first stages of their progress, there is de-
veloped in them a perception of what the consequences of the thorough mas-
tery of the whole subject will be, and with this an endeavor after perfection,
and a perseverance in the attainment of their object, such as the foolishness
and disorderliness of the usual methods would never produce. The basis of
this progress is not merely in the cultivation of the hand ; it is founded upon
the innermost powers of human nature ; and practical books of geometrical
forms coming in succession afterward, enable the children, pursuing this course
on correct psychological principles, and under the proper conditions of physico-
mechanical laws, gradually to attain the desired point, namely, that the fur-
ther use of geometrical lines to be employed by the eye shall gradually become
entirely superfluous, and that, of the means of attaining their art, nothing shall
remain but the art itself.

694 PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

WRITING.

Nature herself subordinates this art to drawing, and to all the means by
which the latter is taught to the child and carried to perfection ; and, accord-
ingly, is actually and especially subordinate to geometry.

Writing ought, even still less than drawing, to be begun and pursued without
previous training in linear geometry ; not only because it is itself a kind of lin-
ear drawing, and does not allow arbitrary variations from the fixed lines of its
forms, but more particularly because, if facility is acquired in it before drawing,
it must necessarily injure the hand for the latter, by confirming it in particular
forms before it has been sufficiently trained to a universal capacity for all forms,
such as drawing requires. It is another reason why drawing should precede
writing, that it beyond measure facilitates the proper formation of the letters by
the child, thus saving him a great loss of time spent in weaning himself from
wrong forms which he has been acquiring for years together. This, again, is
of advantage to him during his whole course, in that, even in the first begin-
nings of study, he becomes conscious of the power to be acquired by the mas-
tery of it ; so that, even in the first part of his studies in writing, he becomes
resolved not to leave any thing incomplete or imperfect, in his rudimentary
acquirements.

Writing, like drawing, must be first commenced on the slate, with a pencil ;
children being competent to make a perfect letter on the slate, at an age
when it would be infinitely difficult to teach them how to guide the pen.

This use of the slate-pencil before the pen is to be recommended, both in
writing and drawing, for the additional reason that it admits of the easy recti-
fication of errors ; while, by the remaining on the paper of a faulty letter, a
worse one is always made next.

And I shall cite, as a material advantage of this method, that the child will
wash from the slate even perfectly good work ; an advantage incredible to all
who do not know the importance of educating children without presumption,
and so as to prevent them from vanity in attaching value to the work of their
hands.

1 divide the study of writing into two epochs: —

1. That in which the child is to become familiar with the forms of letters and
their connection, independently of the use of the pen ; and

2. That in which his hand is to be trained to the use of the pen, the proper
instrument for writing.

During the first of these epochs I place the letters before the child, in strictly
correct forms ; and have caused a copy-book to be engraved, by means of which
the child, if he has the advantages consequent upon pursuing my whole meth-
od, can acquire facility in writing almost by himself without assistance.

The characteristics of this writing-book are : —

1. It dwells sufficiently long upon the rudimentary and fundamental forms of
the letters.

2 It proceeds gradually, only from the simple forms of the letters to the
complex.

3. It practices the child in the combination of several letters, beginning from
the moment when he can correctly write a simple one ; and goes on, step by
step, in the writing of such words as contain those letters only which he i?
already able to make perfectly.

PESTALOZZI -METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 695

4. Lastly, it has the advantage of being cut up into single lines ; so that the
line to be written upon can always be made to stand immediately under the
copy.

In the second epoch, in which the child is to be introduced to the use of the
pen, the proper instrument for writing, he is practiced hi the forms of the let-
ters and in their combinations, even to a higher degree of perfection ; and the
teacher's work is then only to apply this perfected skill in drawing these forms
to writing proper, by the use of the pen.

But the child must here also come at the new step in his progress with those
he has already made. His first copy for the pen is precisely like his copy for
the pencil ; and he must commence his practice with the pen by writing the
letters as large as he drew them, and only gradually becoming accustomed to
imitating the smaller usual forms of writing.

The psychology of all departments of education requires a clear distinction to
be preserved between their means ; and a keen discrimination as to which of
them the child can and should be made to practice at any age. As in all de-
partments, I apply this principle in writing also ; and by a steady adherence to
this principle, and with the help of the book of slate-pencil copies founded on
it, which has been prepared for children of four and five years of age, I confi-
dently assert that by this method even an unskillful schoolmaster, or a very
inexperienced mother, can instruct children, up to a certain point, in both plain
and ornamental writing, without having themselves been previously able to do
it. It is, in this particular, as every where, the main design of my method to
make home instruction again possible to our neglected people ; and to enable
every mother, whose heart beats for her child, to follow my elementary exer-
cises in a progressive order, quite to their end ; and to practice them through-
out with her children. To do this, she need be but a little way forward of the
child itself.

My heart is lifted up by the blessed wishes that spring from this idea. But
when I first expressed distantly something of these hopes, I was answered, from
all sides, " The mothers among the people at large will not approve of it ; " and
not only men from the common people, but men who teach the common peo-
ple— who teach them Christianity! — said to me, scoffingly, "You may search
all our villages up and down, but you will find no mother who will do what
you require from her." I answered them, " Then I will, by the use of these
means of mine, enable heathen mothers from the furthest north to do it; and,
if it is really true that Christian mothers in peaceful Europe — that Christian
mothers in my fatherland — can not be carried forward as far as I will carry
heathen mothers from the wild north ; — then I will call upon these gentlemen,
who are to-day thus insulting the people of the fatherland, whom they and
their fathers have hitherto taught, instructed, and directed; and, if they dare
wash their hands of the blame, and say, " We are guiltless of this inexpressible
shame of the people in peaceful Europe, we are guiltless of this unspeakable
disgrace of the best natured, most teachable, and patient of all the European
nations, the Swiss" — if they dare say, "We and our fathers have done
what it was our duty to do, in order to remove from our father-land the name-
less unhappiness of this inhuman condition of our country and our father-land,
to prevent this decay of the first foundations of morality and religion in our
country and our father-land" — to these men, who dared to tell me, "You may

696 PESTALOZZI.-METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

s« -;uvh the land up and down, but its mothers will not do nor desire what you
wish," I will reply, "Cry out to these unnatural mothers of our father-land, as
did Christ to Jerusalem, 'Mothers, mothers, how often have we wished to
gather you under the wings of wisdom, humanity, and Christianity, as a hen
gathers her chickens under her wings, and ye would not ! '" If they dare do
this, then I will be silent, and believe their assertion and their experience, in-
stead of believing in the mothers of the country, and in the hearts which God
has put into their breasts. But if they dare not, I will not believe in them, but in
the mothers, and in the hearts which God has put in their breasts ; and will
moreover meet the miserable statement with which they have rejected from
themselves the people of the land, like the production of an evil creation, and
proclaim it an insult to the people, to nature, and to truth ; and will go my way,
like a wanderer who in a distant forest hears a wind whose blowing he does not
feel. I must go my way, for the sake of what I desire to speak. I have all
my life seen all manner of such word-men, hardened in systems and ideals, with
no knowledge or respect for the people ; and the appearance of those who to-
day are, as I have shown, insulting the people, is more similar to theirs than
any other that I know. Such men believe themselves to be upon an eminence,
and the people at a depth far below them ; but they are mistaken on both
points, and like wretched apes, by the arrogance of their miserable nature, hin-
dered and made incapable of right judgment on the real value of actual animal
power, or that of real human endowments ; thus these wretched word-men are,
even by the loftiest attainments of their unnatural course, become incapable of
observing that they are walking on stilts, and that they must get down from
their wretched wooden legs, in order to be planted as firmly as common people
are, upon God's earth. I am forced to pity them. I have heard many of these
wretched word-men say, with such a mixture of nun-like innocence and rabbin-
ical wisdom, " What can be better for the people than the Heidelberg cate-
chism and the psalter?" that I have been forced, out of consideration for hu-
manity, to give up my respect for even the foundation of this error. And even
if I would excuse the error, it would still be an error, and will be. Men are
ever like themselves ; and book -learned men, and their pupils, have likewise
been so. I will therefore open my mouth no longer against the verbiage of
their human sayings, and the tinkling bells of their ceremoniousness, and the
delightful foolish frame of mind which must naturally thence arise ; but will
only say, with that greatest of men, who ever beneficially advocated the cause
of truth, the people, and love, against the errors of the book-learned, " Lord,
forgive them, for they know not what they do."

But to return : The study of writing seems to appear, in the third place, as an
introduction to learning speech. It is, indeed, essentially, nothing but a pecu-
liar and special application of the latter.

As, therefore, writing, considered as a study of form, comes according to my
method into connection with geometry and drawing, and thus enjoys all the ad-
vantages derivable from the early development of those studies, so, as a special
department of the study of speech, it comes into connection with all that has
been done, from the cradle upward, by the method for the development of that
faculty, and enjoys the same advantages which were secured and established
lor it, from the previous training of it by the " Book for Motiiers" and the spell-
ing and reading-book.

PE3TALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION ggf

A child taught by this method knows the spelling-book and the first reading-
book almost by rote ; he knows, to a great extent, the basis of orthography
and speech ; and when he has acquired facility in the forms of writing, by means
of the pencil-book and the first exercises, so far as concern single letters and
their connection, he will need no special copies to proceed in his studies in writ-
ing, for he will then, .by means of his knowledge of speech and orthography,
have the substance of all the copies in his head, and can write down, from the ac-
quaintance he has acquired with the spelling and reading-books, whole series
of words ; by which Ms knowledge of language is continually increased, and
his memory and imagination trained.

The advantages of exercises in writing thus arranged, and connected with
those in language, are as follows : —

1. They continually increase the grammatical facility which the child has
already acquired, and make its basis in his mind more firm. This can not fail
to be the case ; for the arrangement of the reading-book, in which nouns, ad-
verbs, verbs, conjunctions, &c., stand in separate columns, enables him to write
them down as they stand ; by which means he acquires the power of determ-
ining at once in which series any word belongs that comes before him. In this
manner even the rules applicable to these classes of words will shape them-
selves in his mind.

2. By these exercises in language, according to tfte method, is also cultivated
the general power of arriving at intelligent ideas; for the child may, as a writ-
ing-exercise, write out his dictionary, according to the headings and distinctions
of the series of subdivisions which In- has already learned, into groups of words,
and thus arrange for himself orderly, generalized views of the various classes of
things.

3. The means of gradually attaining to intelligent ideas by writing-exercises
are re-enforced in two ways : first, because the pupil gains practice both by the
writing and reading-lessons, through the elucidatory juxtapositions of the im-
portant nouns, verbs, adverbs, &c. ; and, second, he gains independent power in
discovering and adding the ideas derived from his own experience to the various
series of terms whose chief conceptions he has made his own while engaged
in studying reading.

Thus, in the writing-exercises, for example, he sets down not only the names
of what he has learned in the reading-book to call "high" and "pointed," but
he practices himself, and the very task stimulates him to do so, in remembering
and adding such objects as he recollects, within his own experience, of that
form.

I will give an example, to illustrate the investigating spirit of children as to
such additions.

I gave out to them the word " Three-cornered ; " of which, along with a
country schoolmaster, they furnished the following instances : —

Three-cornered : Triangle : plumb-level ; half a neck-cloth ; carpenter's square;
a kind of file ; bayonet ; pnsm ; beech-nut ; engraver's scraper ; wound left by
leech ; blade of a sword-cane ; buckwheat kernel ; leg of a pair of dividers ; the
under surface of the nose ; leaf of " Good Henry ; " spinach leaf; seed-pod of
tulip ; figure 4 ; seed-pod of shepherd's pouch.

They found still others on tables, and in round windows, which they were
unable to give names for.

The like is the case with reference to the addition of adjectives to the nouns.

C98 PE8TALOZZI— METHODS <>,' INSTRUCTION.

For instance, tli9 children annexed to the nouns eel, egg, evening, not only all
the adjectives which they had learned as annexed to them in the reading-book,
but those also which their own experience enabled them to add as appropriate.
Thus, by this mode of collecting the qualities of all things, they arrive, by the
simplest of processes, at the means of becoming acquainted and familiar with
the nature, essence, and qualities of all things, from various directions, and in
a mode harmonizing with their own experience. The same is true of verbs ;
as, for instance, if the children are to elucidate the verb "to observe," by ad-
ding nouns and adverbs to it, they would elucidate or accompany them, not
only with the words which they had found accompanying them in the reading-
book, but would add others, as in the previous case.

The consequences of these exercises are far-reaching. The descriptions
which the children have learned by rote, as of the bell, going, standing, lying,
the eye, the ear, &c., become definite and universal guides to them, by means
of which they become able to express themselves, both orally and in writing,
as to every thing with whose form and contents they become acquainted. It
will of course be observed, that this result can be reached, not by isolated, ex-
clusive practice in writing, but by connecting it with the whole series of means
by which the method gradually elevates its pupils to the attainment of intelli-
gent ideas.

It is also, as standing hi connection with the whole course of instruction, that
I say of the study of writing, that it should be completed, not merely as an art,
but as a business acquirement ; and that the child should be carried to such a
degree of facility in it, that he shall be able to express himself as distinctly
respecting it, and use it as easily and as universally, as speaking.

The third elementary means of our knowledge is

NUMBER.

While sound and form lead us toward the intelligence of ideas, and the intel-
lectual independence which are attained through them, by the use of various
means of instruction subordinate to themselves, arithmetic is the only depart-
ment of instruction which makes use of no such subordinate means, but seems,
throughout the whole extent of its influence, to be only a simple result of the
primitive faculty, by which we represent clearly to ourselves, in all cases of in-
tuition, the relations of greater and less, and, in cases where measurement is
impossible, to form a perfectly clear idea of the relation.

Sound and form often, and in various ways, contain within themselves a germ
of error and delusion ; but number, never : it alone leads to infallible results ;
and, if geometry makes the same claim, it can be only by means of the applica-
tion of arithmetic, and in conjunction with it ; that is, it is infallible, as long as
it arithmeticizes.

Since, therefore, this department of instruction, which leads with most cer-
tainty toward the purpose of all instruction — intelligent ideas — must be hon-
ored as the most important of all the departments, it is therefore evident that it
must also be pursued universally, and with the utmost care and wisdom ; and
that it is of the utmost importance for the attainment of the ultimate object of
education ; and also that it should be put in a form which shall admit all the
advantages which a profound psychology and a most comprehensive knowledge
of the invariable laws of the physical mechanism of instruction can secure. T

PESTALOZZI.-METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. (399

have, therefore, made the utmost efforts to bring arithmetic before the intuition
of the child, as the clearest result of these laws; and not only to reduce the
element of it in the mind to that simplicity which they wear in the actual phe-
nomena of nature, but also to preserve this same simplicity, without any varia-
tion, strictly and without exception, in every step of onward progress ; in the
conviction that even the furthest attainments in this study can only be the
means of true enlightenment — that is, means of attaining to intelligent ideas
and correct views — so far as it is developed in the human mind in the same
order of progress in winch it proceeds from nature herself, from the very
beginning.

ARITHMETIC.

This arises wholly from the simple collocation and separation of several uni-
ties. Its primitive formula is evidently as has been stated. One and one make
two, and one from two leaves one. Every figure, whatever its value, is in
itself only a mode of abbreviating this rudimentary form of all computation.
It is, however, important that the recollection of the primitive form of the rela-
tions of numbers should not be weakened in the mind by the abbreviated
means of arithmetic ; but that they should, by means of the forms in which the
study is pursued, be carefully and deeply impressed upon it ; and that all prog-
ress in this department toward the end proposed should be founded upon that
deeply-seated consciousness of the material relations which lies at the basis of
all arithmetic. If this does not happen, the very first means of attaining
intelligent ideas would be degraded to a mere plan of memory and imagination,
and thus made powerless for its real object.

This must, of course, be the case ; for if, for instance, we lean, by rote that
three and four are seven, and then proceed to use this seven as if we really
knew that three and four made it, we should deceive ourselves; for the inner
truth of the seven would not be in us, since we should not be conscious of the
material basis which alone can give the empty words any truth for us. The
fact is the same in all the departments of human knowledge. Drawing, in like
manner, if not based upon the geometry from which it is deduced, loses that
internal truthfulness by means of which only it can lead us toward intelligent
ideas.

I begin, in the t; Book for Mothers," to endeavor to make upon the child that
firm impression of the relations of numbers, as such actual interchanges of more
and less, as may be observed in objects discernible by the eye. The first tables
of that work contain a series of objects intended to bring distinctly before the
eyes of the children the ideas of one, two, three, &c., up to ten. Then I let the
children select from the pictures the objects which represent one; then the
twos, threes, &c. Then I make the same relations familiar to them by their
fingers, or with peas, small stones, or such other objects as may be at hand ;
and I daily renew the consciousness of the numbers hundreds and hundreds of
times, by the division of words into syllables and letters on the spelling-board,
and asking, How many syllables has that word ? What is the first ? The sec-
ond ? &c. In this manner the primitive form of all arithmetic becomes deeply
impressed upon the children's minds, by which means they become familial
with the means of abbreviating it, by figures, with the full consciousness of
their inner truth, before proceeding to the use of the figures, without keeping this
-background of intuition before their eyes. Aside from the advantage of thus

700 PESTALOZZI — METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

making arithmetic a basis for intelligent ideas, it is incredible how easy the
study thus becomes, even to children, through this assured preparation of the in-
tuition ; and experience shows that the beginning even is difficult only because
this psychological rule is not used to the proper extent. I must, therefore, go
somewhat more into detail upon such of my rules as are here applicable.

Besides the steps already mentioned, and after them, I make use of the spell-
ing-tablets also as a means of teaching arithmetic. I call each tablet one, and
A ith the child at a time when it can learn its letters, to instruct it in the
knowledge of the relations of numbers. I lay down one tablet, and ask the
child, "Are there many tablets?" He answers, "No; only one." Then I
put one more, and say, " One and one. How many is it? " The child answers,
" One and one are two." And so I go on, adding only one at a time, then two.
three, &c., at a time.

When the child has thoroughly mastered the combinations of one and one, as
far as ten, and states them with entire facility, I put the spelling-tablets before
him in the same manner, but vary the question, and say, " If you have two
tablets, how many times one tablet have you ? " The child sees, reckons, and
answers correctly, " If I have two tablets, I have twice one tablet,"

When he has thus, by the limited and often-repeated computation of their
parts, gained a clear understanding of the number of ones in each of the first
numbers, the question is varied again, and he is asked, with the tablets in sight
as before, "How many times one are two? how many times one are three?"
Ac.; and again, " How many times is one in two; in three ?"&c. When the
child has thus become acquainted with the simplest rudimentary forms of addi-
tion, multiplication, and division, and intuition has enabled him to master the
essence of the processes, the next step is to make him thoroughly acquainted,
in like manner, by intuition, with the rudimentary forms of subtraction. This
is done as follows : — From the whole ten tablets together I take away one, and
ask, "If you take away one from ten, how many remains?" The child reck-
ons, finds nine, and answers, "If I take one away from ten, there remain nine."
Then I take away another, and ask, "One less than nine is how many? " The
child reckons again, finds nine, and answers, "One less than nine is eight."
And so it proceeds to the end.

This mode of explaining arithmetic can be practiced by means of the follow-
ing series of figures : —

1 11 11 11 &c.
1 111 111 111 &c.
1 1111 1111 1111 &c.

When the additions in one of these columns are finished, they may be used
for subtraction ; e. g. : —

If one and two are three, and two and three make five, and two and five
make seven, &c., up to twenty-one ; then two tablets may be removed, and the
question asked, " Two less than twenty-one is how many ? " and so on, until
none are left.

The knowledge of the greater or less number of objects, which is awakened
in the child by the laying before him of actual movable bodies, is strengthened
again by the use of arithmetical tables, by means of which the same succes-
sions of relations are set before him in lines and points. These tables are used
*e guides, in reference to computing with real objects, as the spelling-book is in

PESTALOZZI.- METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 701

connection with writing words on the blackboard ; and when the child has pro-
• ceeded as far, in reckoning with real objects, as these tables, which are entirely
based on intuition, his apprehension of the actual relations of numbers will
have become so strengthened, that the abbreviated modes of proceeding by the
usual figures, even without the intuition of objects, will be incredibly easy to
him, while his mind will have been preserved from error, defects, and fanciful
instructions. Thus it may be said, with strict correctness, that such a study of
arithmetic is exclusively an exercise of the reason, and not at all of the memo-
ry, nor any mechanical routine practice ; but the result of the clearest and most
definite intuitions, and leading to nothing except to inteDigent ideas.

But as increase and decrease takes place, not only by increase and decrease
of the number of single objects, but by the division of single objects into sev-
eral parts, there thus arises a second form of arithmetic, or, rather, a method is
offered by which each single object may itself be made the basis of an infinite
partition of itself, and an infinite division into single parts existing within it.

And as, in the previous form of arithmetic, the number one was taken as the
starting-point for the increase and decrease in the number of single objects, and
as the basis of the intuitional knowledge of all their changes, in like manner a
figure must be found in the second form of arithmetic which shall occupy the
same place. It must be infinitely divisible, and all its parts alike ; a figure by
which the parts in fractional arithmetic, each first as part of a whole, and again
as independent, undivided unities, may be brought before the intuition in such
a way that every relation of a fraction to its integer may be presented to the
child's eye as definitely and accurately as, by our method, hi the simple form
of arithmetic, the number one was seen by him to be distinctly contained three
times in three.

No figure will serve this purpose except the equilateral square.

By means of this figure we can place before the eye of the child the relation
of the parts to unity ; that is, the progressive series of fractions, beginning with
the universal starting-point of all increase and decrease, the number one, with
as much distinctness as we formerly set before him in a sensible form the in-
crease and decrease of whole unities. I have also prepared an intuitional table
of fractions, in eleven columns, each consisting of ten squares. The squares in
the first column are whole, those in the second are divided into two equal parts,
those in the third into three, &c., as far as ten. This simply-divided table is
followed by a second, in which these simple intuitional divisions are continued
in a further progression. The squares, which in the first table are divided into
two equal parts, are now divided into two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, four-
teen, sixteen, eighteen, and twenty parts ; those in the next column into three.
six. nine, twelve, &c.

As this intuitional alphabet consists of geometrical forms, which are derived
from the tenfold subdivision of an equilateral square, it is evident that we have
established a common source for the alphabet of intuition, and this arithmetical
alphabet ; or, rather, that we have established such a harmony between the
elementary means of instruction in form and number, that our geometrical
forms are made the primary basis of the relations of numbers, and the funda-
mental relations of numbers, on the other hand, the primary basis of the geo-
metrical forms.

In this manner we arrive at the conclusion that we can not teach children

7 Oil PESTALOZZI.— METHODS OF INSTRUCTION.

arithmetic, under our method, except by the use of the same alphabet whicb
we used previously as an alphabet or intuition in the more restricted sense ;
that is, aa a basis for measuring, writing, and drawing.

The child's apprehension of the actual material relations of all fractions will
become so clear by the use of this table, that the study of fractions in the usual
figures, aa in the case of the arithmetic of integers, will become incredibly easy.
Experience shows that by this method the children arrive four or five years
earlier at a proper facility by this method than could possibly be the case without
its use. These exercises also, as well as the previous ones, preserve the child's
mind from confusion, omissions, and fanciful instructions ; and in this respect
also it may be said, with distinctness, that this mode of studying arithmetic is
exclusively a training of the reason ; in no sense a mere exercise of memory,
nor any routine mechanical process. It is the result of the clearest and most
definite intuitions ; and leads, by an easy path, through correct understanding,
to iruth.

TEACHING AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY.

[PROM BIBER'B LIFE OF PESTALOZZI.]

THE spirit in which Pestalozzi presided over his house can not be
better described than by his own words, in the discourses which he
addressed to the whole family every Christmas Eve and New-Year's
Day. One of these, delivered on Christmas Eve, 1810, will be read
with interest, as it is not only a faithful expression of the tone which
he maintained in his establishment, but affords, at the same time, a
pleasing picture of that peculiarity of continental custom, by which
Christmas Eve and New-Year's Day are consecrated as the two great
family festivals.

Children, sons and daughters of this house, and ye matured men, my friend*
and brethren !

What is there in this day that calls for rejoicing ! For nearly twice ten cen-
turies, this hour has ever been an hour of gladness ! Is its joy, peradventure,
worn out with age, and do we possess no more than the dregs and forms of its
sacred solemnity? If so, I would rather not partake in it; I would not rejoice^
but mourn, in this hour of ancient joy. And I ask : That ancient joy, what waa
it ? And I look around me, to see what it is now. I have heard of the ancients,
and I have partly seen it in my own days, that Christmas Eve was a night on the
earth above all earthly nights. Its shades were brighter than the noon-day of
highest earthly joy. The anniversaries of national emancipation from the thral-
dom of tyranny were not to be compared to that heavenly night, the night of
heavenly rejoicing. Through the holy silence of its service resounded the words :
" Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, and unto men purity of heart."
It was as if the angels were again gathering together over the heads of men in
that hour, praising God that a Saviour was born unto the world. Oh! in those
days, Christmas Eve was indeed a holy night, whose joys no words can describe,
its bliss no tongue declare. The earth was changed into a heaven every such
night. God in the highest was glorified, on earth there was peace, and gladnesa
among the children of men. It was a joy flowing from the innermost sanctuary of
the heart, not a joy of human affection. The joys of human affection are tied ta
place and outward circumstances ; they are individual joys. But the joy of our
ancient Christmas Eve was a universal joy, it was the common joy of humankind ;
for it was not a human, but a divine rejoicing.

Friends and brethren, and ye, my children ; Oh that I could lead you back ta
Christendom of old, and show you the solemnity of this hour in the days of sim-
plicity and faith, when half the world was ready to suffer death for the faith iu
Christ Jesus !

My friends and brethren ! Oh that I could show you the joys of Christmas

704 PESTALOZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY.

Eve in the mirror of those days! The Christian stood at this h<>m in the midst
of his brethren, his heart tilled with the Holy Ghost, and his hand with earthly
gifts. Thus stood the mother among her children, the master among his work-
men, the landlord among his tenants. Thus assembled the congregation before
its pastor ; thus the rich entered the cottage of the poor. Tin's was the hour in
which enemies offered each other the hand of reconciliation, in uhich the heavily
laden sinner knelt down, praying in tears for the pardon of his transgressions, and
rejoicing in his heart that a Saviour was born to take away sin.

This hour of heavenly joy was i\n hour of sanctificatiou ; the earth was a
heaven-like earth, and, though the dwelling-place of mortal man, breathed the
breath of immortality. Death and sorrow seemed to have departed from the
earth. The holy joys of that night lightened the burdens of the poor, and eased
the pangs of the wretched. Prisoners, who had long been shut out from the light
of day, were liberated on that night, and returned, as if led by an angel of God,
to their desolate homes, to their wives and children, who were kneeling, weeping,
and praying for their deliverance ; for the heart of the judge had softened itself
in the joy, that to him too a Saviour was born, and it had grown milder toward
his fellow-men, his enemy, and his captive. Even the criminal under sentence
of death, whom no human power could rescue from his fate, was more kindly
treated ; words of peace, words of life everlasting, instilled comfort into his
trembling nerves. He felt not merely his guilt ari:l misery; he felt the pardon
of iniquity, and when his hour drew near, he went to meet his end with manly
composure. Many thousands, entangled in debt by the necessity or the weakness
of life, and persecuted by the arms of the law with merciless rigor, obtained in
this sacred interval remission of their debts from the more generous feelings of
their creditors, who, in the joy of having a Redeemer born to them, became
th- -nisei ves the redeemers of unfortunate debtors.

Oh, what a night was Christmas Eve to ancient Christendom ! Oh that I
could describe its blessings, and your hearts would be moved to seek God's Holy
Spirit, and your hands would tremblingly give and receive human gifts sanctified
by the solemnity of this hour; for you would remember, that in this hour \v;is
born unto you Christ the Saviour, and you would rejoice in him with a holy joy.

Oh that Christ Jesus would now appear to us in spirit ! that we might all be
like unto our children, to whom the invisible love of God is made manifest in the
Christ-child* under the form of an innocent babe, like unto them in appearance,
but descending from heaven, with pleasant gifts. Oh that the joy of this hour,
wh'-r.-with we rejoice over the birth of our Saviour, could enable us to see in
spirit the divine love of Christ Jesus, giving himself up to death to be a ransom
for us. Let us rejoice in the hour in which he was made flesh, in the hour in
which he brought into the world the great gift of his death to be deposited on the
altar of divine love. From this hour was he the Lord's High Priest, the victim
for our sins.

My friends, my brethren and sisters ! let us pray : " Bring back, Oh Lord,
bring back unto the world those happy days, when mankind were truly rejoicing

* Christmas Eve abroad is the time when children receive gifts of every kind from their
parents, godfathers, &c ; but instead of " Christmas boxes," they are "Christmas trees,"—
young fir-stems, lighted up with little wax-tapers, on the twigs of which all the glittering
gifts are hung. The preparation of the " Christmas tree " is a family mystery, and if the
child ask from whence all the goodly things come, the answer is, :-The Christ-child brought
them."— B.

PESTALOZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY. 705

in their Saviour Jesus Christ, and in the hour of his birth. Bring back unto U3
those times, when at this hour the hearts of men were filled with the Holy Ghost,
and their hands with gifts of brotherly love. Oh heavenly Father, thou wilt
bring them baek if we seek for them. And, as one of old asked Jesus Christ:
* Lord, what must I do to be saved?' even so let us ask : ' Lord, what must we
do, that Christmas Eve may bring unto us those blessings which it brought to
the Christian world in its better days ? what must we do that the joy of Christmas
may be an universal joy to our house, as it was in the days of old to all mankind ?' "

It is by answering this question, my friends and brethren, that I will endeavor
to edify you in the solemn moments of this festival, so sacred to the Christian's
heart,

My friends, my brethren ! the joy of Christmas was to our fathers a universal
joy, the common joy of humankind, because it was the joy of holy and heavenly
love. In like manner in our house, the joy of Christmas will become a universal
joy only if it become among us a joy of holy and heavenly love. The fellowship
•of love is the only true source of fellowship in rejoicing 5 its divine power alone
can break the bonds by which joy is restrained in the human breast. In the
absence of that love, our joy is only the joy of individuals in single objects, in
whose excitement selfishness is enthroned. The troop of the joyful is separated
from the multitude of the mournful ; and the latter are left to their fate without
one feeling of sympathy, while the former, full of envy and anxiety, are jealously
guarding the sources of their joy, lest any of those that are rejoicing with them
should divert its streams into their own channels. Such is the joy which, fettered
by the bonds of human selfishness, is unable to rise into a holy and divine feeling.

My friends and brethren ! wherever the fellowship of love is wanting, the fel-
lowship of joy is precluded. If, then, we desire to make Christmas Eve a festival
to our hearts, as it was to the hearts of our fathers, the fellowship of love must
first be established and secured among us. But this is wanting wherever there
is not the mind of Jesus Christ and the power of his Spirit.

My friends and brethren ! unless that mind and that power be in the midst of
us, our house will prove to be built on sand. In vain shall we seek for the fellow-
ship of joy, if we. have not that of love.

My friends and brethren ! if there be no other but human and temporal ties to
bind us, we are inwardly divided already, and our external union will and must be
broken up, as a spider's web by the strong wings of a wasp, or by a gush of wind.

My friends and brethren ! it is no small thing for men to be united for a holy
purpose. They must sanctify themselves in their union, that their purpose may
remain to them a holy purpose, and that the work of their hands also may be
holy. But it is far more common for men to corrupt than to sanctify themselves
by their union.

My friends and brethren ! let us not overlook the dangers of every union be
tween man and man. Wherever men unite in their human capacities, then
union will not lead to their purification or sanctification. It is only where a divine
life forms the tie of union, that man by his union with other men can become
purified and sanctified ; but the union in the tie of a divine life is only possible by
the fellowship of the mind of Christ and the communion of his Holy Spirit.
Whoever has not the mind of Christ, nor his Spirit, will not be ennobled by any
union with man. Let us not be blind, therefore, my brethren, to the dangers of
our union. They are great, very great. It is the work of thy mercy, Oh Lord,

45

706 PESTAl.OZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY.

that they have not ensnared us already. For how variously has in our union th.»
human nature of the one attached itself to the human nature of the other! how
manifold has been among us the fellowship of weakness! Have we not endeav-
ored each of us to make the weakness of others a cloak wherewith to cover his
own. Oh, how little has the success of our undertaking effected toward raising
us to a higher state, and strengthening in us the power of divine grace ! How
often have we rejoiced with a merely human joy, unsanctified by the divine
Spirit, in that outward success which became the more illusory as we took a
merely human view of it! Oh Lord, how little have we been strengthened, and
how much have we been enfeebled, by our prosperity. My friends and brethren !
let us not conceal this matter from ourselves ; the history of our union is nothing
else than the history of the merciful dealings of divine grace, with the weakness
of men united together for a holy purpose. We have pursued this purpose after
the fashion of men, but the Lord has blessed our labors with the blessing of
heaven. Of that blessing we have proved ourselves unworthy, for in the midst
of his loving kindness toward us, our weaknesses not only remained the same,
but they were often increased.

My friends and brethren ! the days of our prosperity have not, as they ought
to have done, prepared and strengthened us for the days of adversity ; and yet
adversity must necessarily come upon us, lest we should be subdued by our human
weaknesses, which are in open conflict with the divine purpose of our union. My
friends and brethren ! are we to give way to those weaknesses of our human
nature, and see our house stride on toward dissolution ; or shall we, by elevating
ourselves above them, save our work from destruction ?

My friends and brethren ! is the coming Christmas to be to us a day of deep
mourning, or a joyful day of triumph, to celebrate our conquests over ourselves
and our infirmities ? The decisive moment is come. We must no longer rely
upon outward prosperity for the success of our undertaking ; for there is no pros-
p.-rity that can now become really conducive to its progress; nothing but right-
eousness can any longer advance the object of our union. You are left, my
friends, almost without a leader. My strength is gone. I am no longer an ex-
ample for you of what you ought to be day by day, as members of our family.
Your task is an important one. You are to educate yourselves as well as the
children intrusted to our care. You are to resist the world and its vain worksv
and yet you are to satisfy men who have grown grey-headed in its vanities. You
are to pave a new road through impervious tracts, and to walk on it as if it had
been paved long ago. You are to act the parts of youths in your development,
and that of men in your position to the world.

My friends! our meeting together was on a less high, it was on a human
ground ; nor has our temporal connection raised us to such an elevation ; and
yet it is indispensable for the attainment of our end, that we should rise to that
point.

Oh my friends, my brethren ! in what a sublime light does this purpose present
itself to my view. Oh that it were possible for me to present it to you in the like
manner as I did the Christmas joy of our forefathers. The purpose of our union
is not founded upon our human nature, but upon the divine spark implanted
within it; it is on this account that it embraces the whole of humankind; it is a
universal purpose, because it addresses itself to that divine seed which God has
universally deposited in the hearts of men. Our means likewise are not derived

PESTALOZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY. 7<)7

ft OIM our human nature ; they emanate from a divine lite within us. So far only
as we are alive to that purpose in its divine character, so far as it is unfolded in
us by divine means, so far only has it in us a real foundation ; and it is so far only,
that the attainment of it can become to us a source of universal peace and
tranquillity.

.My friends and brethren ! if that be wanting among us, our union for the pur-
pose of education is no more than a vain dream ; from which when we wake, we
shall find our eyes filled with tears.

My friends and brethren ! if we be united by no better tie than that which
binds men together in the vanity of their common pursuits, our union will share
the fate of all vain human associations. The fetters of this vain world will then
keep our union in an unholy bondage, and we shall sink, as man always does in
union with man, except he be raised above the degrading influence of merely
human relationship by sanctification in a divine bond. Mean selfishness will then
preside among us, as it presides every where in human society, and it will cause
our union to perish in itself, like a house thrown on a heap by an earthquake, in
the same manner as it has ruined before thousands of human associations. Fix your
view upon this prospect, my friends ; do not turn your eyes from this picture.
How should we feel if all this should be fulfilled in us ? -Oh ! do not turn away
your eyes from this picture of truth. If ever we should be overcome by our own
weakness, and obliged to separate ; if any of us should forsake the common cause
and look to their private interests, some in the apparent calmness and satisfaction
of selfishness, and some in the selfish sorrow of weakness ; if we should part from
each other ; if those that are strong among us should abandon the weak ones to>
their fate ; if any of us should become intoxicated with the narcotic of vain glory,,
or should endeavor for the sake of contemptible gain to obtain for themselves the-
credit due to all. ***** ]\[v friends and brethren ! is it possible for
you to place this picture of dissolution, degradation and ruin before your eyes, and
not to feel a sacred determination kindled in your bosom, to do all in your power
to avert the day of such a calamity ?

It is impossible, my friends, my brethren, that you can be indifferent to that
prospect: you will, I know you will, be elevated and united. Oh ! let us deliver
ourselves and our cause from danger, by elevation and unity of spirit. Can we do
otherwise ? Could we have cherished for years the idea of raising the condition
of the people by a better education, and now allow it to sink into oblivion ? Is it
possible for us to forget those sacred hours in which our hearts were filled with
pious enthusiasm at the recollection of our great purpose ; those hours in which,
separated from the world, and firmly united among ourselves, we acknowledged each
other as devoted instruments of that purpose, and gave each other the solemn
promise, which also we have openly declared before men, that we would conse-
crate ourselves to the holy cause for which we are called, and assist each other
in its pursuit, until every one of us should have obtained strength and ability to
pursue it by himself, independently of any farther assistance ? Who that has for
a moment felt in his bosom the spirit of our union, could consent to abandon the
least among us that is truly attached to our cause, instead of lending him a help-
ing hand, and leading him to become a mature instrument for the common pur-
pose? Is it possible to see our blooming youth, whom none can equal in cheer-
fulness, in native wit, in intelligence and practical acquirements, in physical power
and agility, whose whole education is so evidently superior to that commonly

708 PESTALOZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY.

imparted, and not to mourn at the thought that our union should ever be dissolved ?
Is it possible to view the improvements produced in the method of instruction,
by rendering it conformable to the nature of the human mind, and to be indiffer-
ent to the idea that the experiment, out of which these improvements arose, should
be interrupted ? No, it is impossible. I know you, and though I may have to
complain of much frailty among you, yet I am sure, that many of you would
rather die, than suffer the blessed fruits of our union to be arrested in their
growth by your failings.

No, no ! my brethren ! let the voice of union be raised among us with a shout
in the solemn hour of this festival : the voice of that union which has raised us to
the privilege of becoming the servants of our brethren. Let us be faithful to that
union, let us not depart from the path prescribed to us by the love of mankind.
Let our object be now and forever, to consecrate ourselves to our holy calling, and
to remain faithful to each other in cooperating for the attainment of our great pur-
pose ; to remain faithful to the beloved children who grow up in the midst of us, iu
the flower of youth ; to remain faithful to truth and love in all the means that we
adopt ; and in the whole sphere of our exertions to preserve purity of heart.

My friends and brethren! let this day, consecrated to the remembrance of a
Saviour's birth, be the-day of a holy renovation of our union ! let it be the day
of a holy renovation of ourselves for the purposes of our calling! let the joy that
Jesus Christ came in the flesh, be one with the joy that we are united in his ser-
vice ; let our joy be the joy of faith and love in Him ! Let the saered, the divine
.-haraeter of our calling, raise us far above ourselves, and above the dangers of
human weakness, which exist in our union as in the union of all our brethren.
Let us be sincere with ourselves, let us not deceive ourselves by the vain jingle
of words, let us not contaminate the holy night of our Lord by the delusion of sel-
fishness ! Whoever seeks in our union to serve himself only, let him depart from
us ! Whoever makes our union a scene for the freer indulgence of his weakness,
let him depart from us ! Whoever feels that in our union he grows more frail
and faulty than he would have allowed himself to become elsewhere, let him
depart from us !

We are brought together by ch'ance ; it could not be otherwise ; but let not
chance keep us together like fishes caught in a net, who must all perish toir- tlu i .
No, no ! the hour is come to separate the wheat from the chaft'. The hour is
come, when our union must cease to afford food for the \\ ieked. It is enough !
!.»ugh ! The goodness of God has given to each of us a time of grace and
long suffering. For those who have abused that time, it is now at an end, it must
be at an end ! Whoever does not serve the holy purpose of our union, whoever
disturbs it by his presence, let him depart from u> !

My brethren ! The ties of chance must this day be broken ! No other tie can
henceforth be suffered to exist among us than that of love and righteousness. Let
us part rather than perish ! We must either part and follow every one his own
appointed way, or else we must stand together this day, before God and men,
with one heart and one soul ! resolved to follow our common calling. Such is our
duty this day!

My friends, my brethren ! let us be faithful to that calling ; let us cheerfully
run our race together ! I am the weakest among you, but I am ready to bring
any sacrifice that may be required of me for the attainment of our holy purpose.

My friends and brethren ! be you also ready to bring those sacrifices which will

PE8TALOZZ1 AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY. 709

be required of you ! They will not be small. It is no small matter to put one's
hand t.> tlu work of educating mankind; to stand forward among men, and to
say : u Come to us and see the great thing which we propose to do for improving
the education of the human race, for benefiting the world, and securing the
welfare of our species."

My friends and brethren ! This is the view which has been taken of the object
of our union, and we ourselves have represented it nearly in the same light.
Feeling the corrupt state into which education has fallen, and suffering under its
mistakes, the world has awarded confidence to the language of my enthusiasm,
and has crowned us with laurel, when we had hardly begun to search after the
means by which a beautiful dream might be realized. I was myself under a great
mistake. I thought the way to my end much shorter than it actually is ; while
the incense with which we were perfumed, as well as the unexpected success of
some unripe experiments, confirmed us in that mistake, and had a prejudicial in-
fluence on our union and our institution. The seeds of corruption began to
unfold themselves among us. We contradicted one another with our unripe
opinions in dogmatical arrogance, and ills began to spring up in our house, which,
when the fashion of praising us had grown old, afforded the world an opportunity
of abusing us, likewise as a matter of fashion. Our time of trial is come, but it is
better for us than the hour of vain praise. Let us not deceive ourselves. The
voice of censure is becoming severe against us, and times of trouble are at hand.
My poor house! thy lovers are become thy accusers, and know thou that the ac-
cusations of lovers are severe, and that their blame will become a testimony
against thee in the mouth of thy enemies. My poor house ! thou art grown up
as a beautiful flower of the field 5 the gardeners envy thy beauty, because it
shakes the faith of the world in their hot-houses, and verily they will take
vengeance upon thee !

My friends, my brethren ! despise not this time of tribulation ! Our gold will
be purified, and the heat of the refiner's fire will bring the dross to the surface!
The world will for awhile see nothing but dross, and will lose for a time all faith
in the gold, which is underneath the drossy bubbles.

My friends, my brethren ! let not this offend you, but rejoice rather that your
dross shall be separated from the gold of our holy cause. If the dross be permit-
ted to swim on the surface, and all that is good and valuable among us be hidden
from the eyes of the world, which can not see beyond the surface, rejoice ye!
The hour of purifying will pass over; the vain dross of our labors will be thrown
away, and be lost like chaff in the fire, but that which is purified will remain.
Think on this, pass it not over lightly ! Ask yourselves : " What then will re-
main ! much, very much, of what we consider as gold, is now boiling up with the
dross. But be ye not offended. The gold of our cause is not to be found in our
outward labors, in our outward success ; it is within you ; there you must seek it,
there you shall find, there you must value it. Our cause can have no value to
us, except that which we possess in ourselves ; and that value is great, it can not be
little; nor must we allow ourselves to lose it in the unstable estimation formed of
our external undertaking, like a diamond in a heap of sand. No ! the intrinsic
value of our eause is great. It requires an uncommon elevation of heart, single-
ness of sight, absolute submission to the guidance of Providence, indefatigable
exertion, undaunted courage, constant self-denial, the humility of love, and the
strength of heroes.

710 PE8TAL02Z1 AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY.

My friends, my brethren! let us not deceive ourselves, our aim is one \\liich
heroes only can hope to reach. Whence shall we get that heroic strength of
which we stand in need ?

My brethren! remember that the strength of the Lord is made perfect in
weakness. The Saviour came into the world, lying in a manger, a helpless in-
fant ; and the glory of the only begotten of the Father was declared unto poor
shepherds that kept watch over their flocks.

May the holy reminiscences of this day inspire us with a high and holy courage
for our work. My brethren! it' we are able to celebrate this festival in the spirit
of our noble-hearted ancestors, in the spirit of genuine Christians, then are we
capable likewise of accomplishing our work. The Lord Jesus has said: " If ye
have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain : ' Remove
hence to yonder place !' and it shall remove." My friends, if ye have faith as a
grain of mustard seed, though obstacles should lie in your way like mountains,
whose feet are rooted in the depth of the earth, and whose tops reach unto
heaven, ye shall say to them : " Remove hence to yonder place !" and they shall
remove. My friends ! if we celebrate this holy festival in true faith, we shall in
the same faith accomplish our task. Cast back your looks upon the times of old,
and see how this festival was celebrated by true faith. His heart filled with the
Holy Spirit, and his band with gifts of human kindness, the Christian stood at
this hour in the midst of his brethren. The solemn hour of heavenly joy was an
hour of sanctification to our species. The earth was at this hour a heavenly earth.
The dwelling-place of mortal man was filled with the breath of immortality.

.If we celebrate this hour in the spirit of ancient Christendom, in the spirit of
better days that are gone by, our hearts will be filled with the Holy Spirit, as well
as our hands with earthly gifts. Thus shall every one of us stand in the midst
of his brethren, in the cheerful circle of our children. "With the hand of kind-
ness will we seek their hands, and their eye shall find in ours the beam of love.
Then will the joys of this day be to us heavenly joys, then shall we be sanctified
in the rejoicing of this hour. Then, my friends, my brethren, will our house be
a heavenly house, and the dwelling-place of our weakness be filled with the breath
of immortality.

My friends, my brethren! the fellowship of our joy will then be a fellowship
of love, and our house will no longer be built on sand. Selfishness and sensual
appetite will then no longer rule over our pleasures, nor embitter our sufferings.
Our union will no longer be disturbed, for heartless indifference will be banished
from among us, and whoever sins against love, will stand confounded before the
image of offended and weeping love. Then shall our union rest, not upon a
human but upon a divine basis, and then it will and must become a source of
blessing to all its members. The pangs of the suffering, the sorrows of the
afflicted, and the burden of the oppressed, will then disappear. I may then adopt
with truth the language of internal tranquillity, and say : " I cast my burden upon
thee, Oh Lord ; thou wilt sustain me." My friends, my brethren ! our cause is
secured, if the fellowship of love dwell among us. Oh heavenly Father, grant
Thou us the grace of fellowship in Thy Spirit !

All human fellowship disturbs the high fellowship of love, which is only to be
found in a divine fellowship, and of this none can partake but those who have the
mind of Christ Jesus, and follow after him in the strength of his Spirit.

My friends, my brethren ! let this holy night be consecrated by earnest prayer

PESTALOZZI AS THE FATHER OF A FAMILY. *7U

1o God tor the mind of Christ Jesus, and for the strength of his Spirit, that our
hous inav be established, and the work of our calling accomplished in the fellow-
ship of love.

And you, my beloved children, who celebrate this Christinas in the simplicity
of your hearts, what shall I say to you ? We wish to be partakers of your sim-
plicity, of your child-like joy. We know, that except we be converted and be-
come as little children, except we be elevated to the simplicity of a child-like
mind, we shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven, we shall not attain the fel-
lowship of love, by winch alone our house can be established on a sure foundation.
Beloved children ! it is for your sakes that we are united in one family 5 our house
is your house, and for your sakes only is it our house. Live in our family in the
simplicity of love, and trust in our faithfulness and our paternal affection toward
you. Be ye children, be ye innocent children jn the full sense of the word. Let
this festival establish you in the holy strength of a child-like mind. Behold
Christ Jesus, the Saviour of the world; behold him with the graces of holy
childhood at the bosom of his mother ; behold him in the manger with the sweet
look of holy innocence. Remember him, how he grew, and waxed strong in
spirit, filled with wisdom, and how the grace of God was upon him ; how he was
subject unto his parents; how in fear and love toward them he increased in wis-
dom and stature, and in favor with God and man ; how, being yet a child, he sat
in the temple in the midst of the wise men, and astonished all that heard him by
his understanding and answers ; how grace and love never departed from him all
his days ; how he drew the souls of men toward him by the excellency of his
life ; how he took unto him little children, and declared their sweetness and sim-
plicity to be the source of life everlasting in and with God ; how his grace and
love was made manifest in his sufferings and death, as the power of God to the
salvation of mankind ; how it forsook him not even in the last hour, that in the
midst of its torments his lips instilled consolation into the soul of his mother. Oh,
my children, may this solemn hour inspire you with that spirit of grace and love
that was in Him, and may you be preserved in it all the days of your lives! We
teo, my children, stand in need of your grace and love, to nourish and to
strengthen these paternal feelings, which we pray God that he may grant unto
us, and without which we can not render you any service of love and righteousness

Children, let the graces of childhood elevate our souls, and purify us of all con-
tamination of anger and wrath, and hastiness in your education. May your love
animate our hearts and refresh our spirits, that we may not grow weary in the
duties of our office.

Children, I must conclude : I will again speak to you in a little while. For the
present let it suffice. Children, young men, men, friends and brethren, let our
Christmas be unto us a day of holiness ! May God in heaven sanctify it unto us !
Glory be to God in the highest, and on earth peace, and meekness of heart among
the children of men I Amen I

PESTALOZZI.-NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS, 1809.

* * * I BOW down my face, fall down, and ask myself, Am I worthy
of the benefactions of my Father? Am I worthy of that salvation of my
work, and of all the value which God has given, during the past year, to
me, and to my house ? O God ! dare I even ask it ? Is man ever worthy of
God's benefits ? and dare I, for a moment, imagine myself worthy of the wonder-
ful manner in which the paternal goodness of God has carried our existence,
with nil its weaknesses, through the dangers of the past year ? The year was an
important one for us. We saw what our work requires more clearly than ever
before ; we saw its power, and felt our own weakness, more clearly than ever.
The force of circumstances had nearly swallowed up our existence. The means
we used, to extricate ourselves from perils beyond our strength, increased the
evil. Let an everlasting veil fall over the human part of our labors. Let the
first festive hours of this day be devoted to the gratitude which we owe to the
Saviour of our work, the Father of our life, the everlasting source of all that is
holy or good within our association. I will thank him. I will look within my-
self, and acknowledge how little I was worthy of his goodness ; how little I was
worthy that he should thus rescue the labor of my life. O thou good God, how
much did it require, even to undertake that work ! Father in Heaven, what an
expanse of duty did even the dream of my work lay before me ! I myself dare
scarcely think of the accomplishment of all those duties. Fear and shame must
seize hold upon me, when I reflect what is officially required of me by the relig-
ious and human duties, and the extent, of my house. What have I done, in
taking such extensive burdens on my shoulders? Near the grave, feeling more
than ever the need of rest, too weak for ordinary duties, uneasy at almost every
occurrence, unforeseeing its almost every danger, inconsiderate in almost every
conclusion, unskillful, helpless, and unpractical in almost every thing which I begin
and ought to finish. I see myself placed in relations to you, which demand the
utmost calmness, the greatest foresight, the deepest deliberation, and the utmost
skill and practical dexterity, that any one human task ever required. I have had
nothing to oppose to all these defects of mine, except my love, and my presenti-
ment of the possibility of good results ; which have never left me. But this pre-
sentiment, and this love, were not re-enforced for my work, either by correspond-
ing inner powers nor corresponding outward means. Thus stood my enterprise
for years. Yet it was not my enterprise : I did not seek what I found ; I did not
know the ocean in which I was to swim, when I threw myself into the stream
which has borne me into it. What I do, is not my work ; I did not begin what I
now see completed here ; nor am I completing what I began. I stand here, sur-
rounded by benefits from my fate, which fate yet controls; by benefits from God,
which he yet controls; by friends, whom God himself has given to me, and
whom he yet controls. My work exists, my friends, through you, who are around
me; my work exists through you. I have ever the least share in it. My pow-
ers of sharing it, how small soever, are continually becoming smaller. What has

PESTALOZZI.-NEW DEAR'S ADDRESS. 713

eoin,- to pass, has otMiii' to p-iss through you ; and what is to come to pass, must
happen through you. God's providence will never leave me to lose you, and to
be obliged to seek out new supports for my work. I could thank you — but what
words could render thanks for what you are to me. and to my work ? Sorrow
takes hold upon me. How little am I to you, in comparison with what you are
to me ! I look within myself, and acknowledge how much I have been wanting
to my work ; how my weaknesses have almost hindered my work more than they
have advanced it. ...

. . . Deeply beloved children ; you too should, in this festive hour, raise
your hearts to your Father in heaven, and promise him to be his children ; with
thanks and devotion, to be his children. Children, your good fortune is great.
At a tune when the great majority of children go on in neglect and abandon-
ment, with only want for their teacher, and their passions for their guides ; in
days when so many, so innumerably many, better and more fortunate children,
suffering under a combination of harshness, violence, and bad guidance, diverted
from the paths of nature, not educated, but trained only into a one-sided, empty
show of knowledge, and an equally one-sided pretense and fashion of practical
efficiency, and thus offered up to the world ; in such a time, you are not given
over to abandonment and neglect : want is in no respect your bad counselor ; nor
are the dubious impulses of passion used in your training. Amongst us, neither
vanity nor fear, neither honor nor shame, neither reward nor punishment, as they
are elsewhere almost universally used, purposely and as part of the method, are
used to show you the path in which you are to go. The divine nature, which is
in you, is counted holy in you. You are, among us, what the divine nature
within you and without you summon you to be. We oppose no vile force against
your gifts or your tendencies ; we constrain them not — we only develop them.
We do not instil into you what is ours, what exists in us as corrupted by ourselves ;
we develop in you what remains uncorrupted within yourselves. Among us, you
are not under the misfortune of seeing your whole being, your whole humanity,
subordinated, and thus sacrificed to the training of some single power, some sin-
gle view of your nature. It is far from us to make you such men as we are. It
is far from us to make you such men as the majority of the men of the time are.
Under our hands, you will become such men as your natures require ; as the
holy, the divine, within your natures, require. Father in heaven, grant to us
that the purpose of our labors may be visibly and undeniably in thee, and through
thee. Men around us assert that we propose, as the ultimate end of our labors,
not thine understanding, thy wisdom ; but thy humanity. No, no ! It is far from
me to resign myself to the cunning and art of my race, confined to the limits
within which those faculties do their work. It is far from me to seek, as the end
of my labor, a confined development of the lower endowments of men, and of
their material senses. O God, nol What I seek is, to elevate human nature to
its highest, its noblest ; and this I seek to do by love Only in the holy power
of love do I recognize the basis of the development of my race to whatever of
the divine and eternal lies within its nature. All the capacities for intellect, and
art, and knowledge, which are within my nature, I hold to be only means for the
divine elevation of the heart to love It is only in the elevation of man that I rec-
ognize the possibility of the development of the race itself to manhood. Love i»
the only, the eternal foundation of the training of our race to humanity. The
error was great, the deception immeasurable, of believing that I sought the com-
plete development of human nature by a one-sided cultivation of the intellect ; by

714 PESTALOZZI.-NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS.

the exclusive study of arithmetic and mathematics. No. I seek it through the
universality of love. No, no. I seek not training to mathematics, I seek train-
ing to humanity 5 and this comes only through love. Let your lives, your whole
lives, my children, show that the whole purpose of my instruction was only love,
and elevation to humanity through love. They will show it. The error of be-
lieving that I sought any other end, of believing that my method was intended
only to obtain for the poor better means of earning bread, will disappear. Deeply
beloved children, you will cause it to disappear. This error has arisen, not from
me, not from my labors, not from my instructions to you ; but only from hasty
glances at my books, the special means of developing single faculties.

Your existence is a contradiction of this opinion, which gladdens my heart.
Since your examination, I have seen you only for a moment yesterday, I have
spoken with you but little ; but my heart is full of affection for you. How little
were those miserable mechanical accomplishments, which we dealt with, filling
your minds ! Freedom, courage, elevating strife after the lofty, the noble 5 these
were upon your brows, in your eyes, in your glances, in your whole being. The
bliss of love beamed from many eyes. Peace was upon your lips. You
were far more yourselves, and for the sake of God, than you were created by us.
The talents which you possess appear in their own form, as you possess them,
and not at all as we have given them to you. It is true that, among us, the bonds
of the folly, the self-seeking, and the misery of our day, are loosed. With us, a
man may be poor. With us, any one may be destitute of all those means toward
artistic training which are attainable by wealth and by favor, and may yet claim
all the elevation of mind and of heart for which human nature is created.
Among us, the saying is not heard, that he who is born to eat hay may eat hay.
We know no class of men born only to live like beasts. We believe that the
lofty endowments of human nature are found in all ranks and conditions of men.
We believe that as every man, who does righteously, is acceptable before God his
creator, so that every man, to whom God himself has given lofty powers of mind
and of heart, is entitled to assistance, before the eyes of men. and in the midst of
them, in the development of the powers which God has given him. Therefore is
it that we simplify the means of that development ; and therefore that we found
upon the holy power of love. Children, that this love may increase, and be as-
sured within you, is all that we propose for our object. Instruction, as such, and
of itself, does not produce love, any more than it produces hate. Therefore it is
that it ia not the essence of education. Love is its essence.

PESTALOZZI -ADDRESS ON HIS SEVENTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY.

UPON closer investigation of all these practical means of elevating the poor,
we shall not be able to conceal from ourselves the fact that they all alike lack the
firm certainty arising from the inmost pure spirit of all true and profoundly thor-
ough human education, namely, the divinely-given instinct of father and mother ;
the divinely-given impulse of childlike instincts; the everlasting purity of bioth-
erly and sisterly affection, which never passes beyond the narrow circle of the
domestic relations. They all lack the certainty and continuity which conies from
the connection of material stimuli to faith and love with similarly powerful stimuli
to intellectual and physical activity, which appeal to the whole of human nature
in freedom and by conviction. They all lack the lofty, holy influence of home.
Their external scale of magnitude, on one hand, deprives them all of the genial
intimateness of domestic life, which can only exist within a narrow circle of little
close relations; and, on the other hand, their organization always rather makes
forcible impressions by public or at least by external force, than exerts the blessed
influence of domestic piety ; and who can conceal from himself how unfatherly
and un motherly are the human beings often sent forth by such institutions, owing
to their circumstances, and especially to all sorts of influences and interests from
directors, managers, stewards, &c. ? Who can estimate the difficulties which
must arise from this source, in such institutions, in the way of the inner, holy es-
sence of true human education ? Such institutions, however, owing to the pres-
ent condition of non-education, and of the corresponding moral, mental, and do-
mestic debasement from overrefinement, are at present an urgent necessity. May
God grant that the heart of those of the present day may be interested in the
object, and take pity even according to the prevailing contracted views on the
want and degradation of the poor, in all that concerns both soul and body — but
that, at the same time, it will not be forgotten that good institutions for the relief
of sufferers by fire and water are not good institutions for the education of the
<poor. Provident regulations for the prevention of losses by fire and water may,
after a fashion, be classed under the head of institutions for educating the poor ;
'but institutions for relieving actual losses by them can not.

The only sure foundation upon which we must build, for institutions for popular
education, national culture, and elevating the poor, is the parental heart; which,
by means of the innocence, truth, power, and purity of its love, kindles in the
children the belief in love ; by means of which all the bodily and mental powers
•of the children are united to obedience in love, and to diligence in obedience. It
is only in the holiness of home that the equal development of all the human fac-
ulties can be directed, managed, and assured ; and it is from this point that edu-
cational efforts must be conducted, if education, as a national affair, is to have real
reference to the wants of the people, and is to cause, by its influence, the coincid-
ing of external human knowledge, power, and motives with the internal, everlast-
ing, divine essence of our nature.

716 PESTALOZZI.-ADDRESS ON HIS SEVENTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY.

If the saying is true, "It is easy to add to what is already discovered," it is in-
finitely more true that it is easy to add to the inward eternal goodness of human
nature, whatever external goodness human skill can communicate to our race ;
but to reverse this process, to endeavor to develop that eternal inward goodness
of human nature, out of our mere miserable human art, deprived of its divine
foundation ; this is the cause of the deepest error of the wretched debasement of
the present time. The homes of the people — I do not say of the mob, for the
mob have no homes — the homes of the people are the centers where unites all
that is divine in those powers of human nature which admit of education. . . .

The greatest evil of our time, and the greatest and almost insurmountable obstacle
to the operation of any thorough means is this, that the fathers and mothers of our
times have almost universally lost the consciousness that they can do any thing —
every thing — for the education of their children. This great falling away from
their faith, of fathers and mothers, is the universal source of the superficial char-
acter of our means of education.

In order to improve the education of the people as a national interest, and uni-
versally, it is, above all, necessary that parents should be awakened again to con-
sciousness that they can do something — much — every thing — for the education of
their children. Fathers and mothers must, above all, learn to feel vividly how
great an advantage — as intrusted by God and their own conscience with the duty
of educating their own children — they enjoy, over any others to be employed as
assistants then -in. And, for like reasons, it is indispensable that there should be
a general public recognition of the fact that a child who has lost father and mother
is still a poor, unfortunate orphan, even though his guardian can employ the first
among all the masters of education in the world to teach him. . . .

. . . Truth is every where and nowhere ; and only he lives in the truth
who sees it every where, as a phenomenon bound up with a thousand others, and
nowhere, as an exacting, isolated idol before him. But the visionary weakness of
man easily leads him to carve a graven image out of every great idea which he
takes to his bosom, and to recognize and admit all truth, all the rights of men,
only with a one-sided reference to this idol, and to whatever may serve its selfish
requirements. Even great men, and deep thinkers, are not secure from the dan-
ger of seeing isolated opinions become almost a sort of monomania ; not indeed
as absolutely as those, the terror of mankind, which are heard from hopeless bed-
lamites ; yet it is undeniable that favorite conceptions pushed too far, and views
which become daily familiar, are liable, even in deep thinkers, to acquire stach a
sort of hardness that it easily becomes impossible to treat them as they are, moral
and intellectual, without prejudice, and freely, but the thinker becomes a servant
to his idea. The world is full of men thus prejudiced for some particular views.
Are there not hundreds in every profession — military, civil, judicial, or any other,
distinguished each in his department — who are holden by their opinions relative
to their favorite pursuit, in a manner at least very similar to those possessed by a
monomania? I must proceed still further. I must ask myself whether there are
not, amongst us, many traces of this hardening into views of some great idea ? I
must ask, distinctly, have not incompatible ideas become equally fixed, in this way,
in our heads ? This I believe so truly to be the case, that I am completely con-
vinced that we can in no way arrive at a universal internal union of the hour, and
at an actual harmony of views relative to what we call our method, except by ef-
forts to put upon an equality within us all views relative to that method — whether
mathematical, theological-philosophical, natural-philosophical, humanist, philan

PESTALOZZI -ADDRESS ON HIS SEVENTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY. ^

throp'st, or whatever — and by not permitting ourselves to be governed by any
idea which is in progress of becoming fixed, as I have described. If we can lift
ourselves to this point, the stand to which our efforts have come, by means of the
determination of some of us to conform ourselves in certain views, would, by
means of the increased power of each of us within his department, become really
valuable for the whole of our enterprise ; and I am certain that, in that case, none
of us would intrude himself beyond the circle in which he can work most profit
ably for the promotion of our designs. In that case, I myself should not be en-
tirely without that circle. On the contrary, I am sure that the sentence of death,
of moral and intellectual failure, would no longer be passed upon me with so much
zeal and pleasure as has been the case for years immediately around me. Many
would then be convinced that I am alive. The misunderstandings which are and
must be every moment crowding about me, as things are, are innumerable. But
if they are for ever and ever to be taken as true against me, because they last
long and are accompanied with the influence of men very active hereabouts, what
must j. think of such a fate ? What I do think is this : that courts which con-
demn the accused on such evidence will be abhorred by the whole unprejudiced
world. And for the future I have no fears on this account. I am not ungrateful,
and never shall be known as such. . . . Friends, brothers ! coldnesses have
crept in among us, which are the result of the whole extent of the history of our
association and of that outwardly chaotic condition, which has overpowered the
goodness and nobility which lay and still lies at the bottom of our association, and
have brought it to pass that, here and there among us, one looks at another through
spectacles whose glasses are no longer clear, and can be clear no more. Broth-
ers ! the evils of our house are not of to-day, nor of yesterday. They came from
afar. From the beginning of our union, we have admitted among us habits and
ways of living which must necessarily, by their very nature, produce disagree-
ments; and it is absolutely necessary that, in order to judge of these, we should
look ear. 'fully back to the days of the beginning of our association. It was in
truth then that the origin of the evils, under which we have lain so long, sprouted
and took root. What is passed is no longer here ; but, even though we forget it,
its influence is no less upon the present. Friends, brothers! the hours when we
unit d ourselves in the beginning, were hours of perfect dreaming; and of great
error in that dreaming. In those days the world seemed to seek what we sought,
and to love what we loved. Tlie delusion of the time fell in with our efforts ; the
inf •'•••sts of the public authorities seemed at that time to have become the same
with our own ; even the selfishness of thousands, now in opposition to us, seemed
then to coincide with our views. What we did was thought excellent before it
was understood ; even before we ourselves understood it. Honors and praises
carried us almost beyond ourselves. The pecuniary prosperity of our undertaking
seemed to us to be secured, almost without effort and without care. But the vis-
ion of this paradise in the air soon passed by. The thorns and thistles of the
world soon began to grow up around us, as they do round the lives and doings of
all men. But the dreams of those days profited us nothing. They weakened our
powers, when they so variously and so urgently needed strengthening. Truly,
the climate of those days was too pleasant for us. We prepared ourselves for liv-
ing in the warm South, when the hard, cold days of the North were awaiting us.
Why should we conceal from ourselves the truth ? The vigor and purity of our
ardor for our object grew weak in those days, and became, in some cases, only a
; pretense while good fortune lasted, not knowing the power of that zeal which in

718 PESTALOZZI — ADDRESS ON HIS SEVENTY-THIRD 13IRTIIDA*

misfortune still burns, and is not extinguished even in days of the greatest trouble.
I myself see in those days the origin of the evils which oppress us now ; and con-
sider incorrect all opinions respecting our later condition, which do not have refer-
ence to these earlier sources of them. It is always necessary, in judging of any
particular situation or occurrence among us, to have reference to the character of
the bond which united us to each other; whose peculiar quality was this, that no
one of us was, by virtue of that bond, any other than what the peculiarities of his
own personal, individual nature made him. Consider the importance of this
point ; that among us nature did every thing, art nothing. In reference to the
persons of the adult members of our house, we lived without government, and
without obedience. No more free development of our individuality can be imag-
ined ; nor any condition more dangerous and oppressive to my home and my
place. Friends! in your judgments upon my condition and my conduct, consider
this, and reflect, further, upon the great concourse of persons who became mem-
bers of the establishment, without knowing what we sought, without desiring what
we had, without the abilities which we needed ; and who thus were, in reference
to myself, presuming, and unrestrained in their conduct, just in proportion as I
was under constraint with reference to them. Friends ! consider the establish-
ment in the extent of all its relations : all the necessities into which I fell, all the
burdens which came upon me ; and compare them with my destitution of all
those means and powers which were required to meet, even in a distant degree,
the external and internal requirements of our association. Friends ! our inno-
cence at the beginning of our association was praiseworthy, and the aims of that
innocence were praiseworthy. But did innocence ever overcome the power of
the many ? And is it not a mere natural necessity that it should yield to that
power ? Or did it ever perfect an enterprise which ventured to throw itself, with
all its outward weaknesses, into the power of the world and the current of it,
without a strong steersman, as our enterprise did ? Truly, we, in the dreams of
our first innocence, sought for such a life as ancient piety dreamed of in a cloister ;
and at the same time we lived in the utmost imaginable freedom. The youngest
of our inmates soon almost universally practiced a freedom of speech which the
world permits to no novices ; and of the elder ones, none thought of any privi-
leges of a father-prior. And I represented the abbot of the monastery ; when,
in some respects, I was much more fit for the donkey of the monastery, or at least
the sheep, than the abbot. Friends ! I speak plainly on this point. All this
is well understood ; and does not at all derogate from the real good which has
been planted, has taken root, and still exists among us, and which is so perfectly
well known by its results on so many of our pupils, and by the conduct and the
success of so many adult men who have been trained among us. But it is now
time, and also a duty, to turn our attention, with truth, freedom, and earnestness,
to a subject important in itself, and which on various accounts has attracted the
attention of the world. "We must endure the responsibilities of our places ; and
it would be well if a deeper consciousness of this obligation prevailed among us.
From this responsibility we can not escape. All that is noble and pure — even
that which is noblest and purest in the world — if it increases and grows great
rapidly, must then decrease and deteriorate ; and we grew much too fast, in our
efforts after our good object, to know and practice sufficiently the rules which
would have maintained and strengthened the growth of what was good amongst
us. The greater number of those who called themselves ours, came to us rather
by chance than by election or our choice ; and however the temporary appear-

PESTALOZZI — ADDRESS ON HIS SEVENTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY. 7l£

ance of many things amongst us might have been understood by a practiced eye-
to indicate only their ephemeral nature, most of them thought my imprudence and
weakness perennial. This could of course not do otherwise than to originate al-
most incurable evils amongst us. Even the best enterprise, if it increases too
rapidly, becomes degraded by the evil qualities of the mass which accretes to it;
then seizes, with the vigorous radical power of evil, upon the usually weak roots
of what is good 5 and then becomes, even while intermingled with the overpowered
goodness yet remaining, a I'ecruiting-station for evil, which gathers in every incau-
tious passer-by ; and experience shows that men once enlisted on the side of evil
soon become sworn conspirators for it, and, although feeble in the ordinary opera-
tions of life, show great power and much bad cunning in promoting their evil
objects, whether idleness, disorder, impudence, or whatever they may be — or at
least in obstructing the dominion of their' opposites. When things come to this
pass, whether in a small or large association of men, the necessity of some govern-
ing authority, competent to control such a state of affairs, becomes fully recog-
nized ; and, at however late a period, aid from such authority is sought for. But
the very cause that makes such control sought for, disenables those who apply to
such authority from judging of it. Judgments formed in such cases are, there-
fore, commonly wrong ; and the necessitous state into which such applicants have
fallen, is almost always a bad counselor. This was the case with us. We sought
and sought, but did not find. And at no time was there more error relative to
myself. Every one thought me unfit to govern ; but I was still permitted to re-
main, as if I were fit, and the relations of all remained such as if I were so.
This condition of affairs could lead to no relief. I should surely have succumbed
under it, had not the protecting providence of God so graciously watched over
me, that often the apparently unavoidable results of my faults passed by, as if they
had not happened. This is so true, that I myself do not know, and can not ex-
plain it to myself, how I have been able to pass through the turbulent and track-
less chaos into which I have been cast, without entire ruin ; and to attain to that
point of power and efficiency upon which 1 see and feel myself to be standing.

PATERNAL INSTRUCTIONS.

DURING that happiest period of Pestalozzi's career, his labors at Burg-
-dorf, he sketched out many rough drafts of lessons, to be filled up by
his assistants, in thc'ir class room exercises, as a sort of encyclopedia of
social science. Many of these fragments came into the possession of
Kriisi, who, after the death of Pestalozzi, edited and published them
under the title of " Paternal Instructions, a Bequest of Father Pesta-
lozzi to His Pupils." We give a few extracts from Biber's volume.

Almsgiving.
"The best alms is that which enables the receiver to cease begging."

Changing.

" Change, my child, change all that thou doest and performest, until thou hast
perfected it, and thou be fully satisfied with it. Change not thyself, however,
like a weathercock, uith «-\vry wind ; but change thyself so that thou mayest
become better and nobler, ami that all that thou doest may be ever more excellent
and perfect. No such change will ever cause thee to repent."

Baiting.

king is, like all cooking, a fruit of civilization. The savage knows of no
preparation of his food ; he eats every thing raw, like tin- l>rut«-s. and, accordingly,
he eats it, like them, with brutal greediness. A wise diet of nn-at and drink is
only possible when the food is prepared by art, and it is then only that man can
•ruard himself against the voracity of the animal. Baking, therefore, and every
other sort of cooking, is a far more important business than it appears to be at
first sight. It procures to us the most wholesome of all nutriments — that bread
which, as a common necessary of life, we daily ask of God, in the most sublime
of all prayers."

Bathing.

" By bathing we cleanse ourselves from bodily impurities ; the impurities of the
soul, however, are not removed either by common or by consecrated water, but
only by a renovation of mind in faith and love."

Quaking.

" The most violent quaking, which causes houses and cities to fall in ruins, and
which shakes even the foundations of the mountains, is that terrible convulsion
of nature which we call an earthquake ; but infinitely more terrible is the secret
quaking of a guilt-laden soul, at the prospect of the inevitable discovery and pun-
ishment of its crim. s."

Beginning.

"The beginning of every thing precedes its existence and its continuation.
The first day of creation was the beginning of the world. From the beginning
God hath set forth his almighty power, his wisdom, and" goodness, in all that he

PATERNAL INSTRUCTIONS. 70]

has made. From the beginning, the hand of his providence has ordained the
destinies of mankind ; it has ordained thy destiny also, my child. Rejoice,
therefore, and put thy trust in him, who is, and was, and shall be, the everlasting
•God."

Bowing and Bending.

" Man, the only creature that carries his head so erect, should he never bov/
it? Verily, he does! For God has deeply impressed upon his heart the feeling
•of his weakness, and a reverential awe for all that is great and lofty. His head
is involuntarily bowed down under the oppressive consciousness of his guilt. His
•eye sinks in gratitude before the saver of his life, his wife, his child. Verily,
verily, it was no art that bent the knee of the first man who prostrated himself in
the dust at the sight of the rising sun. It was God within him, who thus laid
him low ; and he rose more humanized in his feelings, than if he had proudly
faced its bright beam. But the work of God is defiled in the bowings and bend-
ings of hypocrisy, by which human nature is as much degraded as it is elevated
•and ennobled by pious adoration, lowly modesty, and kneeling gratitude."

Blossoming.

" Youth, thou season of blossoms, how fair thou art ! But, remember that th>
<}harms are destined quickly to pass away. Thou canst not ripen, unless they
vanish. Therefore, value thou the lasting fruits of life above the fleeting beaut}
of its blossoms."

Thanking.

' Good men and good things, my child, cause joy to the man of pure heart,
even though he derive no benefit from them ; but when he is benefited by them,
bis joy is increased. He then seeks the author of all goodness and of all joy j
aud, when he has found him, his voice is drowned in the overflow'ng of his feel-
ings. Tears glisten in his eyes. These, my child, are the thanks of the heart,
which elevate and ennoble the soul. Whoever thanks not God, deserves not to be
•called man ; and whoever thanks not his fellow-men, is unworthy of all the good
which God bestows upon him through the hand of man."

Thinking.

" Thinking leads men to knowledge. He may see and hear, and read and
learn whatever he please, and as much as he please ; he will never know any of
it, except that which he has thought over, that which, by thinking, he has made
the property of his mind. Is it then saying too much, if I say that man, by
thinking only, becomes truly man. Take away thought from man's life, and
what remains?"

Threatening.

'•It is a misfortune if one man threaten another. Either he i 3 corrupt who
does it, or he who requires it."

Failing.

" All men fail, and manifold are their failings. Nothing is perfect under the
«un. But, unless a man despise himself, he will not think lightly of any of his
fellings."

Refining.

" Man wishes to have things not only good, but shining; therefore is there so
much refining in the world. Silver, gold, and steel are polished ; the finest silk,

46

722 PATERNAL INSTRUCTIONS.

:he softest wool, the clearest cotton, the mellowest tints, the mos*. exquisite tra-
grancies, the most delicate sounds, the most delicious spices, and the most luxuri-
ous pillows are preferred. But where human nature has attained the greatest
refinement of sense, a man of nerve is hardly to be found. The highest degree
of this refinement is generally the point from which the decline of individuals and
nations takes its beginning.

" The builder, who wishes to erect a durable structure, must do it with strong
timber ; he must not, by sawing and planing, make his bearers and planks so
thin as to render them unfit for the purpose for which they are intended. And ia
the same way, parents and teachers ought never to refine the children, nor gov-
ernments the nations, to such a point as to make them lose the strength of their
limbs, the freshness of their cheeks, and the muscle of their arms."

Darkening.

" The setting of the sun darkens the earth ; and the failing of hope the soul1
of man. Why, then, is it that every hope of man is not daily renewed, like that
of the rising sun. It is well that he should not forever set his hope upon outward
things ; but seek his repose and his happiness within himself, in those things
which do not rise and set daily, like the sun of this earth."

Hoping.

" Hoping and waiting make many a fool. And are we, then, not to hope at
all ? How unhappy would man be without that beam of hope which, in suffer-
ing and sorrow, sheds light through the darkness of his soul. But his hope
must be intelligent. He must not hope where there is no hope. He must look
•t the past with a steady eye, in order to know what he may hope of the futw *.""

EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.'

BY JOHN HENRY PESTALOZZI.

MAN, as he is, the same whether on a throne or under the forest leaves ; man
in his essence ; what is he ? "Why do not the wise tell us ? Why do not great
intellects inform us what is the reality of our race ? Does a farmer use oxen,
and not study to understand them ? Does a shepherd not investigate the nature
of his sheep ?

And ye who use men, and say that you protect and cherish them ; do you
care for them as a farmer does for his oxen ? Have you such care of them as a
shepherd over his sheep ? Is your wisdom a knowledge of your race, and are-
your benefits those of enlightened shepherds of your people ?

What man is, what he needs, what elevates him and degrades him, what
strengthens him and weakens him, such is the knowledge needed, both by a
shepherd of the people and by the inmate of the most lowly hut.

Everywhere, humanity feels this want. Everywhere it struggles to satisfy
it, with labor and eagerness. For the want of it, men live restless lives, and
at death they cry aloud that they have not fulfilled the purposes of their being.
Then* end is not the ripening of the perfect fruits of the year, which in full com-
pletion are laid away for the repose of the winter.

Why does man investigate truth without order or purpose ? Why does he
not seek after what his nature needs, that therewith he may secure pleasure and
blessings for his life ? Why does he not seek Truth, which will afford him in-
ward peace, will develop his faculties, make his days cheerful and his years
blessed?

Source of the deepest peace of our existence, pure power of our nature, bless-
ing of our being, thou art no dream. To seek thee, to investigate after thee, is
the end and destiny of man ; thou art both a necessity to me, and an impulse
from the deepest part of my soul, 0 end and destiny of man 1

By what road shall I seek thee, 0 truth, who liftest my nature toward perfec-
tion ? Man, driven by his wants, will find the path to this truth, by the way of
his own inmost soul.

The powers of conferring blessings upon humanity are not a gift of art or of acci-
dent. They exist, with their fundamental principles, in the inmost nature of all
men. Their development is the universal need of humanity.

Central point of life, individual destiny of man, thou art the book of nature-
In thee lieth the power and the plan of that wise teacher ; and every school
education not erected upon the principles of human development, leads astray.

The happy infant learns by this road what his mother is to him ; and tbu»
grows within him the actual sentiment of love and of gratitude, before he can

* Abendstunde eines Einsiedlers.— Pestalozzi, Werke, vol. 5, p. 271.

724 PESTALOZZl'8 EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

understand the words, Duty or Thanks. And the son who eats his father's
bread, and is kept warm from his flocks, finds by the same nature-directed way
the blessing upon his studies, and his duties as a child.

All humanity is in its essence the same ; and to its content there is but one
road. Therefore that truth which rises from our inmost being, is universal humar
truth ; and woi Jd serve as a truth for the reconciliation of those who are quarrel-
ing by thousands over its husks.

Man, it is thou thyself, the inner consciousness of thy powers, which is the
nbject of the education of nature.

The general elevation of these inward powers of the human mind to a pure
human wisdom, is the universal purpose of the education even of the lowest
men. The practice, application and use of these powers and this wisdom, under
special circumstances and conditions of humanity, is education for a profession
or social condition. These must always be kept subordinate to the general
object of human training.

"Wisdom and power based upon simplicity and innocence, are efficient bless-
ings in all human circumstances, and in every misfortune, as well as an indis-
pensable necessity in every elevation of position.

To him who is not a Man, a man developed in his inmost powers, to him is
•wanting a basis for an education suited to his immediate destiny and to his
special circumstances, such as no external elevation can excuse. Between the
father and the prince, the needy man struggling with difficulties for his sustenance
and the rich oppressed by cares still more burdensome, the ignorant woman and
the renowned philosopher, the indolent slumberer and the genius whose eagle
powers influence all the world, there are wide gulfs. But if those, in their lofti-
ness, lack real manhood, dark clouds surround them ; while in these, a cultiva-
ted manhood, pure, elevated and sufficing human greatness, will of itself shine
forth from the lowest hut.

Thus a prince in his greatness may long for a wise and upright code of regula-
tions for his prisons, yet may offer in vain a purse filled with gold for it. Let
him bring real manhood into his council of war, his councils of forestry and of ex-
chequer, and let his conduct be truly fatherly within his own house, and let him
wisely, earnestly and paternally train up judges and protectors for his prisoners.

Without this, the name of enlightened laws is, in the mouth of heartless men,
•only another name for selfishness.

So far art thou perhaps, 0 Prince, from the blessing of truth which you seek.

Meanwhile are laboring in the dust beneath your leet, good fathers with their
ill taught children. Prince, learn the wisdom applicable to your prisoners from
the tears of their night watchings; and delegate thy rights over life and deaih to
men who seek that wisdom in that source. Prince, educated humanity is the
blessing of the world ; and only through it is enlightenment efficient, and wis-
dom, and the inmost blessing of all laws.

Educated powers of humanity, these sources of your mighty deeds and peace-
ful pleasures are no purposeless impulse, nor deceitful error.

The path of nature, for developing the faculties of humanity, must be open
and easy; and the method for educating men to true and satisfying wisdom,
simple, and universally applicable.

Nature develops all the human faculties by practice; and their growth
jiepends upon their exercise.

PESTALOZZIS EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

725

The method of nature for educating humanity is, the explanation and practice
of its knowledge, its gifts, and its qualities.

Therefore the simplicity and innocence of that man are educated by nature,
who uses a thorough and obedient explanation of his knowledge, and with
silent industry uses his powers, and develops them into a true human wisdom.
On the other hand, that man is incapable of the pleasure of the blessings of
truth, who violates within himself this natural order, and weakens his sensibility
for obedience and knowledge.

Men, fathers, force not the faculties of your children into paths too distant,
before they have attained strength by exercise, and avoid harshness and over-
fatigue.

When this right order of proceedings is anticipated, the faculties of the mind
are weakened, and lose their steadiness, and the equipoise of their structure.

This you do when, before making them sensitive to truth and wisdom by the
real knowledge of actual objects, you engage them in the thousand-fold confusions
of word-learning and opinions ; and lay the foundation of their mental character
and of the first determination of their powers, instead of truth and actual ob-
jects,, with sounds and speech — and words.

The artificial mode of the schools, which everywhere crowds in this affair of
words, instead of the easy and slower waiting method of nature, endows men
with an artificial show of acquirement which ornaments over their lack of inner
natural powers, and which satisfies such times as the present century.

The miserable exhausting struggle for the mere shadow of truth, the struggle
for the accent and sound and words only, of truth, where no interest can be felt,
and no application is practicable ; the subjection of all the powers of growing
humanity to the opinions of a hard and one-sided schoolmaster ; the thousand-
fold niceties of word-changing and fashionable style of teaching, which are made
the basis of human education — all these are sad defections from the path of
nature.

Moreover, a strict and stiff adherence to one order is not nature's way of
teaching. If it were, she would train one-sided characters ; and her truth would
not accommodate itself easily and freely to the feelings of all men.

Such a severe course would not develop the truth within man to be his useful
servant, nor to be a good and affectionate mother, whose happiness and wisdom
are the happiness and necessity of her children.

The power of nature, although unquestionably leading to truth, leads with
no stiffness. The voice of the nightingale sounds out of the darkness ; and all
the appearances of nature operate, in an enlivening freedom, without the shadow
of constraint anywhere, according to a prescribed order.

Man loses all the balance of his powers, the efficacy of his wisdom, if his
mind is too one-sidedly and forcibly applied to any subject. Nature's mode of
teaching is therefore not a forcible one.

But her teaching is steady and consistent; and her method is strictly
economical.

Education of man to truth, thou art the education of his existence and his
nature to satisfying wisdom.

Man who seekest truth after this method of nature, you will find it in propor-
tion as you make it your stand point and your path.

In proportion as that truth is requisite to your repose and your enjoyment, as

726 pESTALozzrs EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

it is your guiding star in your troubles and the support upon which your life
rests, in that proportion it will be your blessing.

The circle of knowledge, through which every man in his own place becomes
blessed, begins immediately around him ; from his being ; from his closest rela
tions; extends from this beginning; and at every increase must have reference
to truth, that central point of all powers for blessing.

Pure sensibility to truth grows up within a narrow sphere ; and pure human
wisdom rests upon the solid basis of the knowledge of the nearest relations, and
of an educated capacity for dealing with the nearest circumstances.

This wisdom, which reveals itself through the necessities of our condition,
strengthens and educates our practical capacity ; and the mental training which
gives it, is simple and steady, consisting of the action of all the powers upon the
phenomena of nature in their actual relations ; and thus it is related to truth.

Power and feeling and practical certainty are its expressions.

Elevating path of nature, the truth to which thou leadest is power and action,
origin, training, completion, and destination of the whole of humanity.

Thou dost educate with certainty; not to a rapid show of growth; and the
son of nature is confined by limits; — his speech is the expression and conse-
quence of full knowledge of facts.

The disconnected confusion of the sciolist is as little the basis which nature
points out.

The man who with rapid course flits about every subject of knowledge, and
does not fortify bis acquirements by silent steady investigation, loses the power
of observing cheerfully, and with steady search, and the still and genuine pleas-
ure of sensibility to truth.

Unsteady will be the progress of that man who, in the hurlyburly of his
sciolisms, finds, to be sure, material for many words, but sacrifices to them the
quietness of real wisdom. Amidst his noisy pride, you will discover, close
around him, in the place where the power of a blessed wisdom would beam
brightly, only empty solitudes and darkness.

Also the slothful empty wastes of dark ignorance lead away from the path of
nature. Lack of knowledge of thy nature, 0 man, contracts the limits of thy
knowledge, more than the necessities of thy being. Misapprehension of the first
principles of thy condition, deadly oppressive tyranny, withholding of all the
pleasures of truth and blessing; unnatural want of general national enlighten-
ment in relation to the most important actual needs and relations of men, over-
cloud and darken thee, as the deep shadow of night darkens the earth.

The effect of actual life in opposition to the inner consciousness of right, un-
dermines our power of recognizing truth, and perverts the purity of the lofty
and noble simplicity of our fundamental ideas and susceptibilities.

Therefore, all human wisdom is based upon the strength, of a good heart, and
one obedient to truth ; and all human blessings, upon its simplicity and inno-
cence.

Education of humanity hi this purity of simplicity and innocence, thou art
the guardian of humanity, who dost protect and guide rightly the undestroyed
principles of the heart, in the course of their mental development.

Man must be trained to inward peace. Content with one's condition, and
with the pleasures attainable in it, patience, reverence and faith in the love of
the Father under all restrictions, that is the right training to wisdom.

PESTALOZZI'S EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT. 707

Without inward peace, man wanders about in wild ways. Thirst and longing
•after impossible forms, deprive him of every pleasure which present blessings
•offer, and of all the powers of a wise, patient, and obedient spirit. If the feel-
ings are not regulated by inward peace, their power destroys the inward strength
-of the man, and plagues him with dark tortures, in days during which the cheer-
ful wise man would laugh.

The discontented man worries himself within his happy home, because his
dancing at the festival, his violin at the concert, his address in the public hall,
were not distinguished.

Peace, and quiet pleasure, are the first purposes of human education, and its
•darling children. Man, thy knowledge and ambition must be subordinate to
these high purposes, or thy curiosity and ambition will become gnawing agonies
and curses.

Man, thou livest not for thyself alone, on earth. Nature educates thee for
relations with those without thee.

In proportion as these relations are near to thee, 0 man, are they important
for the training of thy being for its ends.

The complete mastery over a near relation, is a source of wisdom and pow€r
over more distant ones.

Fatherhood trains princes, brotherhood, citizens, Both produce order in the
family and in the state.

The domestic relations of man are the first and most important relations of
nature.

Man labors in his calling, and endures the burden of a citizen's labor, that
thereby he may enjoy in quiet, the pure blessings of his domestic happiness.

Therefore the education of man for his professional and social position, must
be subordinated to the ultimate purpose, the pleasures of his pure domestic
happiness.

Therefore art thou, home, the origin of all the purely natural education of
humanity.

Home, thou school of morals and of the state.

First, man, thou art a child ; afterward an apprentice in thy calling.

Childish virtue is the blessing of thy days of learning ; and the first training
of thy faculties to the enjoyment of all the blessings of thy life.

Whoever departs from this natural order, and forces an unnatural education
for state, vocation, authority, or servitude, turns humanity aside from the enjoy-
ment of the most natural blessings, to voyage upon a rocky sea.

See ye not, 0 men, feel ye not, sons of earth, how your upper classes have lost
their inner powers by their education? Seest thou not, humanity, how their
divergence from the wise order of nature, brings empty and barren curses upon
them and from them downward amongst their people? Feelest thou not, 0
Earth, how the human race wanders away from the happiness of its domestic
relations, and everywhere crowds to wild glittering shows, to make game of
-wisdom and to tickle its ambition ?

Erring humanity wanders afar off.

God is the nearest resource for humanity.

Even thy family, 0 man, and the wisest of thy pleasures, will not last' thee
forever.

To suffer pain and death and the grave, without God, thy nature, educated to
mildness, goodness, and feeling, has no power.

728 PESTALozzrs EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

In God, as the father of thy house, the source of thy blessings, in God as thy
father : — in this belief findest thou peace and power and wisdom which no pain,
nor the grave, can shake.

Faith in God is a tendency of human feeling, in its highest condition ; it is-
the confiding childlike trust of humanity, in the fatherhood of God.

Faith in God is the fountain of peace in life ; peace in life is the fountain of
inward order; inward order is the fountain of the unerring application of our
powers ; and this again is the source of the growth of those powers, and of their
training in wisdom ; wisdom is the spring of all human blessings.

Thus, faith in God is the source of all wisdom and all blessings, and is nature's
road to the pure education of man.

Faith in God, thou art buried deep in the being of man. As the sense of
good and evil, as the ineradicable sense of right and wrong, so immovably fast
art thou lodged in our inmost nature, as a foundation for human development.

Faith in God, thou art the portion of the people in every misery, in every
clime. Thou art the power of men in every exaltation, and their strength in
every adversity.

Faith in God, thou art not a sequel and result of educated wisdom ; thou art
a pure endowment of simplicity ; the hearkening ear of innocence to the voice^
of nature, whose father is God.

Childlikeness and obedience are not the result and invariable consequence of
a complete education ; they must be the primitive and spontaneous first princi-
ples of human training.

The wonder of wise men in the depth of creation, and their searches into the-
abysses of the creator, are not an education to this faith. In the abysses of
creation, the searcher can lose himself, and in its waters he can wander ignorantly,
far away from the fountains of the bottomless ocean.

God, father ; God, an existence within the dwellings of men ; God, within my
own inmost being ; God, the giver of his own gifts and of the pleasures of my
life ; — he is the training of man to this faith ; this is the power of nature, who
bases all faith upon pleasure and experience.

Otherwise, arouse thyself, 0 man — I call upon the people — arouse, 0 man, to
the lesson of preponderating goodness. Let this encourage or soothe thee ; that
either happiness will on the whole preponderate. When the flames of misery
burn ovSr thy head and destroy thee, will this dictum of wise men support thee ?

But when thy Father strengthens thee inwardly, makes thy days cheerfuL
lifts thy being above all sorrows, and develops within thyself an overbalance of
blessed enjoyments; then thou enjoyest the education of nature to faith in God.

The bread which my child eats from my hand develops its child's feelings ;
not its wonder at my night watches and my care over its after years. Much
judgment upon my deeds would be folly, and might lead its heart astray, and
away from me.

Simplicity and innocence, pure human feelings of thankfulness and love, are-
the source of faith.

On the pure childlike nature of men, is based the hope of everlasting life;
and a pure human faith in God is not possible for it without this hope.

The tread of a tyrant upon his brethren, upon the children of his God, make?
the inmost soul of humanity to shudder. The widows and orphans of the ranka
of his victims wail, tremble, hunger, believe, and die.

PESTALOZZIS EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT. ^29

If God is the father of men, then the day of their death is not the day of the
fulfillment of their existence.

If there is any perceptioa of truth in thee, 0 man, speak. Does it not con-
flict with thine inmost convictions, to believe that God is the father of men, and.
also that the lives of these wretches are completed so ?

God is not the father of men, or else death is not the completion of our life.

Man, thy inward sense is a sure guide to truth and to thy duty ; and dost thou.
doubt, when this sense summons thee to immortality?

Believe in thyself, 0 man ; believe in the inward intelligence of thine own
soul ; thus shalt thou believe in God and immortality.

God is the father of humanity ; God's children are immortal.

Within thine inmost being, 0 man, lies that which with faith and reverence
recognizes truth, innocence and simplicity.

But simplicity and innocence are not possessed by all men.

To many, this inward consciousness of humanity is a mere dream ; and faith
in God and immortality, based upon this inner consciousness, a contempt and a
reproach.

God, who within my being dost with strength and power teach me truth,
wisdom, holiness, faith and immortality ; God, who hearest all the children of
God ; — God, whom all the good, feeling, pure and loving among men understand
all alike ; — God, shall I not listen to the lessons within my inmost nature, which
are true and which must be true ? Shall I not believe what I am and what I do ?

Faith in God causes a separation of men into the children of God and the
children of the world. Faith in the fatherhood of God is faith in immortality.

God, father of man ; Man, child of God ; this is the aim of faith.

This faith in God is a tendency of man in his relations to his blessings.

Parental love and filial love, these blessings of thy house, 0 man, are results
of faith.

Thy rightful enjoyments, husband and father, the pleasant submission of thy
wife and the deep and soul-elevating gratitude of thy children, are the results
of thy faith in God.

Faith in my own father, who is a child of God, is a training for my faith in
God.

My faith in God is a reinforcement of my faith in God, and of every duty of
my house.

So, 0 elevating nature, thou dost bind together, in thy discipline, my duties
and my pleasures ; and at thy hand man is guided from pleasures enjoyed to
new duties.

All humanity, prince or subject, master or servant, is disciplined for the
especial duties of its station by the enjoyment of its most intimate natural
relations.

The prince who is the child of his God, is the child of his father.

The prince who is child of his father, is father of his people.

The subject who is child of his God, is child of his father.

The subject who is child of his father, is child of his prince.

Station of prince, representation of God, father of the nation. Station of
subject, child of the prince, are each, the child of God. How soft and strong
and subtle is this interweaving of the natural relations of humanity.

0 numanity in thy loftiness 1

7,30 PESTALOZZI'S EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

But vain is the sense of thy worth, to a degraded people.

I scarcely venture to name thy rank, householder. What art thou, and what
•canst thou be ? An ox for sale? The master of thy house. The representa-
tive of the prince, within thy hut, 0 man in thy degradation I 0 Lord and
Father of all !

In whatever low state, the servant is in his essence like his master ; and is by
nature entitled to the satisfaction of his necessities.

For the raising of the people to the enjoyment of the proper blessings of their
•existence, are the high the fathers of the low.

And all the people depend, for the enjoyment of their domestic happiness,
upon their pure childlike confidence in the paternal feeling of their lords ; and
upon the fulfillment of the paternal duties of their lords, for the education and
elevation of their children to the enjoyment of the blessings of humanity.

Is this expectation of men a dream ? Is their childlike expectation a mere
vision in their sleep and weariness of their degradation ?

Faith in God, thou art the strength of thefr hope.

Princes who believe in God, and understand the brotherhood of men, find in
this belief a stimulus to every duty of their station. They are men trained by
•divine power for the blessing of their people.

Princes who disbelieve the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of men,
find in this unbelief the sources of a terrible annihilation of their recognition of
their duties. They are men of terror ; and their power works destruction. In
the recognition of the supreme paternal authority of God, princes assume to
themselves the obedience of their people as a religious duty.

And the prince who does not found his own rights and duties upon obedience
to God, founds his throne upon the mutable sands of popular belief in his own
power.

Faith in God is in this view the bond of union between prince and subjects ;
the bond of the intimate connection amongst the relations of men for happiness.

Unbelief, disbelief in the brotherhood and fraternal duties of man, disrecogni-
tion and contempt of the paternal rights of God, obstinate hardiness in the mis-
use of power, are the dissolution of all the pure bonds of the happy relations of
humanity.

The clergy are the announcers of the fatherhood of God and of the brother-
hood of men ; and their station is the central point of union between the natural
relations of men, and the blessings which come from faith in God.

Faith in God is the source of all the pure paternal and filial feelings of men ;
the source of all uprightness.

Faith in God without paternal or filial feeling, is a mere glittering nonentity,
without power for blessing.

The haughty administration of laws, the passing of sentences according to the
-ancient blasphemies which have grown up in the studies of the law and the
•courts, is a mummery in imitation of justice, and no blessing to the people.

Security and innocence, those sources of pure virtue among the people, those
consequences of wise and fatherly justice, are consequences of faith.

Hardy and outrageous attacks upon innocence, right and truth, those evi-
dences of the absence of a paternal feeling in the administration of the laws of
a country, are the consequences of unbelief.

Violence and impudent bold usurpation contrary to right and innocence, in

PESTALOZZIS EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT. 73 j

the gpirit of a nation, are sources of national powerlessness ; and thus unbelief
is a source of such powerlessness.

And on the other hand, fatherly and childlike feelings in the national spirit,
are the sources of all pure national blessings.

In like manner, the belief in God among the people, is a source of all pure
national virtue, all popular blessings, and all national power.

Sin is the source and consequence of unbelief. It is the action of men con-
trary to the inner teachings of our nature as to right and wrong. Sin, the
source of the perversion of our first fundamental ideas, and of our pure natural
feelings. Sin, the destruction, 0 man, of thy faith in thyself, and hi thine in-
ward nature, destruction of thy faith in God, of thy childlike feelings toward him.

Open sin ; defiance of God by man.

Abhorrence of sin; pure feeling of the childlike relation of man to God, ex-
pression and result of the faith of humanity in the revelation of God within its
own nature.

Abhorrence of open sin : feelings of a child toward a man who insults hia
father and mother.

National abhorrence of a people against public shiners ; pledge and seal of
national faith, and of the childlike feelings of the people toward their supreme
liead.

National abhorrence by a people of the open defiance by their prince of God,
is a sign of national virtue, and of the weakening of the faith and obedience of
the people toward their supreme head.

Unbelief; source of the destruction of all the inner bonds of society.

Unbelief in rulers ; source of disobedience in subjects.

Paternal feeling and paternal treatment by rulers establishes and assures the
•obedience of subjects.

Unbelief destroys the source of obedience.

Under a ruler who is not a father, the tendency of the people can not be
toward the understanding of a popular character, pure in thought and happy in
•childlike obedience.

The consequences of unbelief: — Daily increasing burdens, daily decreasing
paternal goodness, arbitrary exertion of power for no good purpose, fantastic
•and unnatural abuses of governmental authority, oppressive intermediate officers,
•decrease of power in the people to oppose them, are among the inevitable con-
sequences of a government without faith ; which despises the rights of God and
of humanity.

The perception by the people of the perversion of paternal authority is the
<iissolution of the pure bonds of nature between the prince and his people.

Thou, good and motherly nature, dost knit the bands of social relations
through the blessings of mutual happiness.

And it is the popular perception, the national feeling of the blessing of this
happiness, which blesses and sanctifies these relations through the gratitude,
love and faith of the people toward their ruler. Here therefore is the sacred
source of all patriotism and civic virtue.

I am touching strings unused, and not accordant with fashionable tones.
Despise the sound, dance-music, trilling calumnies, and drown my voice;
ileaving pure humanity and truth unnoticed.

All the powers of humanity only accomplish blessings through faith in God

732 i-i-i AI.O/./I s F.VKNING HOUR OF A HERMIT.

and the paternal character of princes, the only sources of blessings for the peo-
pit-, are the consequence of this faith in God.

Man, how low thou standest ! If thy prince is a child of God, his authority
is paternal.

Harsh and insolent exercise of authority is not paternal ; is not a sign of faith
in God. It is the destruction of the highest attributes of both prince and.
country; of the pure childlike feeling of the people toward the prince.

I can not apply to such conduct, . although so common among penetrating
minds in the service of princes, the name of high treason.

But what less is it, when they interpret the paternal authority of the prince
to include the right of both good and evil, of both right and wrong?

What less is it, when in the prince's name they destroy the happiness of
households, rob them of their goods, and cover innocence with infamy and;
shame?

Bond of union between humanity and its blessings, belief of prince and peo-
ple in the supreme Lord of humanity, faith in God, thou alone protectest man-
kind from such perils.

All unbelief is arrogant ; but faith in God, the childlike feeling of humanity
toward God, gives a quiet sublimity to every exertion of its powers.

A brilliant and flashing creation of humanity, is that hardy laughing courage
at danger and destruction, which is a human power ; but it is unfavorable to a
childlike feeling toward God.

Diligent economical use of every gift, aspiration after the strengthening of the-
faculties, is the path of nature to the development and strengthening of all the
powers ; and in every degradation and every weakness this is an inclination of
the pure childlikeness of humanity to God.

A proneness to degrading shadows, impulse to make sport with the faculties-
and powers, and to hide its weaknesses, is a mark of the lowest and weakest
humanity, turned aside from the natural order of development.

Outward and inward human nobleness, cultivated in the natural method, is-
understanding and paternal feelings toward a lower order of endowment.

Man, in thy elevation, use thy powers for this purpose.

Paternal exercise of high endowments toward the undeveloped and weak flock,
of common humanity.

Pure blessing of humanity, thou art the power and the result of faith.

0 my cell, pleasure be within thee 1 Thou also art a consequence of this faith.

Hail, myself and my hut 1

In order that humanity may believe in God, I abide in this hut.

The faith of the people in the true ministers of God is the source of the peace-
fulness of my life.

The priests of God are the representatives of the pure paternal relation of
humanity.

Thy power consecrated, is the enlightenment of God.

God's enlightenment is love, wisdom, and fatherhood.

0 thou who wanderest near my hut, would that I were even a shadow of the
power of my God.

0 Sun, thou picture of his power, thy day is completed. Thou goest down
behind my mountain, 0 day of my completion. 0 hope of the coming morning,.
0 power of my faith.

PESTALOZZI'S EVENING HOUR OF A HERMIT. f3#

I base all freedom upon justice ; but I see no certain justice in this world,
«xcept that inspired by simplicity, piety and love, and in humanity as enlightened
fey this inspiration.

All family administration of justice, which is the greatest, purest and moat
generally enjoyed in all the world, has as a whole no source except love ; and
yet, in the simplicity of all the nations, it accomplishes the general blessing of
the world.

As all justice rests upon love, so does freedom upon justice. Pure childlike-
ness is the real source of freedom, which rests upon justice ; and pure father-
hood is the source of all such government as is elevated enough to do justice,
and to love freedom.

And the source of justice and of all worldly blessings, the sources of the love
and brotherhood of men, these rest upon the great idea of religion : that we are
the children of God. and that the belief in this truth is the sure foundation of
•all human happiness. In this great idea of religion lies the spirit of all true
political wisdom which seeks the real happiness of the people ; "for all the moral
faculties, all enlightenment and human wisdom, rest upon the same basis of the
faith of humanity hi God.

Forgetfdlness of God, neglect of the filial relation of humanity to God, is the
source of the destruction of all the power of morality, enlightenment and wis-
dom, for the blessing of humanity. Therefore is this loss of filial feeling toward
God the greatest of human misfortunes, since it renders all God's paternal in-
struction impossible ; and the restoration of this lost filial feeling is the salvation
of the lost children of God on earth.

The man of God who through the sorrows and death of humanity re-estab-
lishes this universally lost filial feeling toward God, is the saviour of the world,
the sacrificed priest of God, the mediator between God and God-forgetting
humanity. His teachings are pure justice, an instructive philosophy for all peo-
ple ; the revelation of God the Father to the lost race of his children.

-'V..

.11

THE MOTHER AND EARLY EDUCATION.

IPestalozzi's Letters to Greaves.— Extracts.

INTRODUCTION.

The Letters, from which the following extracts are made, were ad-
dressed by Pestalozzi, in the German language, to James P. Greaves of
Merton, England, bearing date: the first, October 1, 1818, and the last.
May 12, 1819, during which period, and for three years afterwards,
Mr. Greaves resided at Yverdun, for the purpose of mastering the prin-
ciples and methods of the great apostle to popular education, with a
view, on his return to England, of trying to secure their recognition in
Infant Schools, and early education generally :

Child Culture by Matters.

I am happy to see that you acknowledge the importance of education
in the earlier stages of life — the period before the admission to school
life. I can assure you from the experience of more than half a century,
and from the deepest conviction of my heart, that our task for the im-
provement of schools will not be more than half accomplished, and the
benefit to mankind which we anticipate from these improvements will
not be realized so long as our improvements do not extend to the period
of infancy, through the medium of maternal love. To mothers we must
appeal; with them we must pray for the blessing of heaven; in them try
to awaken a deep sense of all the consequences and all the rewards of
their interesting duties. Let each take an active part in the most im-
portant sphere of influence. Such is the aspiration of an old man who
is anxious to secure whatever good he may have been allowed to conceive
or present. Happy should I be to speak through your voice to the moth-
ers of Great Britain. — Letter I.

Qualifications Demanded.

Has the mother the qualifications requisite for the development of the
infant mind? Yes! The mother is qualified by her Creator to become
the principal agent in this development by the endowment of a maternal
love, the most gentle and the most intrepid power in the whole system
of Nature. But this love must be a thinking love. Her duties are both
easy and difficult. Their performance do not demand so much knowl-
edge, the knowledge gained in what is called a finished education, but
calm reflection on the nature of her duties, a desire to educate her chil-
dren for God and eternity, by improving the means that lie right about
her in her own home. Happy mother! thy calling is most sacred and
may be most influential. Talk not of deficiencies in thy knowledge, —
love shall supply them ; of limitations in thy means, — Providence shall
47

PESTALOZZFS LETTERS TO GREAVES.

enlarge them; of weakneoo in thy e.. ^gics, —the Spirit of Power him-
self shall strengthen them. Look t. Miat Spirit for all that thou dost
want, and especially for those two gran pre-eminent requisites, courage
and humility. — Letter II.

Unity of Development.

A child is a being endowed with all the faculties of human nature, but
none of them developed, — a bud not yet opened. When the bud uncloses
every one of the leaves unfolds, not one remains behind. Such must be
the process of Education.

No one faculty in the human child must be treated with the exclusive
-or the same attention ; for their co-agency alone can ensure a successful de-
velopment of the whole being1.

But how shall the mother learn to distinguish and to direct each fac-
ulty, before it appears in a state of development sufficient to evidence its
own existence? Not indeed from books, but from actual observation.

Play and Playthings.

The first exertions of the child, attended with some pain, have yet
enough of pleasure to induce a repetition gradually increasing in fre-
quency and power; and when their first efforts, blind efforts as it weiv,
are once over, the little hand begins to play its more perfect part. From
the first movement of this hand, from the first grasp which avails itself
of a plaything, how infinite is the series of actions of which it will be
the instrument! Not only employing itself with everything connected
with the habits and comforts of life, but astonishing the world perhaps,
with some masterpiece of art, or seizing, ere they escape, the fleeting in-
spirations of genius, and handing them down to the admiration of pos-
terity. The first exertion of this little hand, then, opens an immense
field to a faculty which now begins to manifest itself.

In the next place, the attention of the child is now visibly excited, and
fixed by a great variety of external impressions; the eye or the ear are
attracted whenever a lively color, or a rousing, animating sound may
strike them, and they turn as if to enquire the cause of that sudden im-
pression. Very soon the features of the child and its redoubled atten-
tion, will betray the pleasure with which the senses are affected, by the
brilliant colors of a flower or the pleasing sounds of music. Apparently
the first traces are now making of that mental activity which will hereaf-
ter employ itself in numberless observations, and combinations of events,
or in the search of their hidden causes, and which will be accessible to
all the pleasing or painful sensations which life, in its various shapes,
may excite.

Every mother will recollect the delight of her feelings on the first
tokens of her infant's consciousness and rationality; indeed, maternal
love knows not a higher joy than that arising from those interesting in-
dications. Trifling to another, to her they are of infinite value. To her
they reveal an eventful future; they tell the important story, that a spirit-
ual being dearer to her than life is opening, as it were, the eye of intelli-
gence, and saying, in its silent, but tender and expressive language, "I
.am born for immortality." — Letter III.

PESTALOZZI-S\VA.\ M>N<J. 73?

Every one-sided development of our powers is untrue and unnatural;
it is only apparent cultivation, the sounding brass and tinkling cymbal of
human culture, and not human culture itself.

True education, that which is in conformity with nature, leads by its
nature to the struggle for the perfection and completness of the human
powers. But a one-sided education leads, by its nature, to the undermin-
ing, disunion, and final extinction of the unity of the powers of human
nature, from which alone, the struggle for perfection can truly and
naturally proceed. The unity of the powers of our nature has been
divinely given to our race, as the true foundation of all human methods
for our improvement; and, in this respect also, it is always true: "That
which God has joined together, let not man put asunder." If this be
disobeyed, in education, imperfect, unhealthly manhood is the result.

Every one-sided tendency in the development of our powers leads to
the groundless pretensions of self-delusions, to a faulty knowledge of our
needs and weaknesses, and to severe judgment of all those who do not
coincide with the erroneous views of our perverted education. This is
equally true of those who err through the one-sided development of the
heart, and of the mind. The preponderance of any one power leads to
the inflation of its claims. This is as true of our power of love and
belief, as it is of our power of thought and of skill ; and it is equally
true of our vocations. The essential basis of all civil and domestic bless-
ings is life and spirit; without this basis that external skill the cultivation
of which is demanded by civil and domestic life are a means of delusion,
the source of civil and domestic discontent, and of consequent irregulari-
ties and misfortunes.

The equipoise of the powers, which the idea of elementary education
so essentially demands, is based upon the natural development of each
one of the fundamental powers of our nature. Each one of these un-
folds itself in accordance with everlasting, unchangeable laws, and its
development is only natural, so far as it accords with these immutable
laws of our nature. In every case, and in every respect in which the
development is opposed to these laws, it is opposed to nature. The laws
which underlie the natural development of each one of our powers,
differ essentially. The human mind is not cultivated in accordance with
the laws by which the human heart is raised to its loftiest capacity; and
the laws in accordance with which our senses and limbs are cultivated,
differ as essentially from those which are proper for the cultivation of
the powers of heart and mind.

But each one of these powers can be developed in conformity with
nature, only by the single method of its own activity.

Man develops love and faith, the basis of his moral life, naturally, only
through acts of love and faith.

In the same way man develops thought, the basis of his mental
powers, naturally, only through the act of thinking itself.

And man's senses, organs, and limbs, which are the basis of his strength,
;are all naturally developed only by their use.

738 PESTALOZZI — SWAN SONG.

And by the very nature itself of each one of these powers, man is
compelled to use them. The eye will see, the ear will hear, the foot will
walk, and the hand will grasp. So will the heart love and believe. The
mind will think. There is an instinct in every capacity of human nature,
which compels its development from lifeless inactivity into a developed
power. This, when undeveloped, was only the germ of the power; and
not the power itself.

But, when a child falls on first attempting to walk, the desire to walk
is instantly lessened ; and the desire to believe is lessened when the cat
towards which it stretches out its hand scratches it, or the dog which it.
calls barks, and shows his teeth. On the other hand the child's desire to-
develop its power of thought, through the use of thought, is necessarily
lessened when the methods by which it is taught to think do not address
its power of thought attractively, but, on the contrary, oppress it, and
serve to stupefy and confuse rather than to awaken.

The course of nature, when left to herself in the development of the
human powers, proceeds slowly, from the animal part of our nature, and
is also hindered by it. If nature is to be aided in developing what is
human in man, then, on the one hand the assistance of an enlightened
love is presupposed, the germ of which lies as an instinct in the parental
and brotherly feelings of our race; and on the other hand, the enlightened
use of the art which humanity has won by centuries of experience.

Elementary education then, more closely defined, is nothing else than
the result of the efforts of man to assist Nature in the development of ita
natural endowments by cultivated reason and enlightened love and art.

Divine as is the method of Nature in this development, when left to
itself it is only the animal instinct. It is the end of elementary educa-
tion, the aim of piety and wisdom, to make this instinct human and
divine. Let us consider this more closely in its moral, mental, domestic
and civil relations.

I. How are love and faith, the basis of our moral life, naturally
developed? And how are these elementary germs nourished and strength-
ened in the child by human skill and care, so that loftiest results in char-
acter and conduct are made possible? We shall find that these germs
spring into life through the quiet and assured enjoyment of the physical
necessities of the child ; that is, the child instinctively notices the instant
gratification of all its physical wants, and so learns to recognize, and
finally to love and trust their source. The elementary principles of
morality and religion are developed from the quickening of these germs
of love and trust. In the awakening of these dormant principles which
distinguish man from all other creatures, the maintenance of quiet and
contentment are of the utmost importance. Every influence which at
this time disturbs the plant-like life of the child, stimulates and strength-
ens the claims of its sensuous nature, and weakens the natural develop-
ment of its higher powers. The first and most loving guardian of the
child's tranquillity is the mother. Where maternal care is lacking,
domestic life loses its best and purest educational influence. We can-
not imagine the one without the other; the two go hand in hand.

PESTALOZZI — SWAN SONG. 739

For this development of character tranquillity is indispensable, and
without it love loses all power of truth and blessing. Uneasiness is the
offspring of physical suffering or desire, and always leads to a lack of
love and to unbelief. Maternal care is necessary at this point to ward
off all physical causes of restlessness. These arise from two sources, the
neglect of real physical needs and the excess of useless physical pleas-
ures, which only induce selfishness. The prudent and intelligent mother
lives in the service of her child's love, but not of its caprice.

The solicitude which conforms to nature in promoting the child's tran-
quillity, does not stimulate but only satisfies its sensuous needs; so mater-
nal care, though instinctive, is in harmony with the claims of the heart
and mind. It rests on moral and intellectual grounds, and as it is only
animated by instinct and is not the result of the subjection of the higher
to the lower powers, it is a true cooperation of instinct with the purposes
of the heart and mind.

In this way maternal care develops the first signs of love and belief in
the infant, and prepares the way for the influence of the father, brothers,
and sisters. The infant's animal love for and belief in the mother are
thus gradually elevated to a human love and belief. The child's circle
of love and faith extends continually, and it loves and trusts those who
are loved and trusted by its mother. From this human faith there is but
a single step to the true and pure feelings of the Christian faith. Ele-
mentary education should found the development of the moral and relig-
ious life of the child on this method.

II. How is man's intellectual life developed? How are his powers of
thought, reflection, and judgment naturally unfolded? We shall find
that our power of thought is developed from the impressions which the
perceptions make upon us. These impressions excite and animate in
the mind its inherent principle of self-development. Perception leads,
first to a consciousness of the impressions, and second to a sense-knowl-
edge of the objects perceived. With perception comes the necessity for
expression, and naturally the first attempts of the child are imitative, but
the greatest need is that of human speech. Speech, which is an exten-
sion of the power of thought, is the servant of humanity, by which knowl-
edge gained by perception is made available and communicable.

If the cognition is superficial or incorrect, it will be expressed in the
same way. The natural method of acquiring the mother tongue, or of
any other language, is closely connected with the knowledge gained by
perception, and the method of learning any language must accord with
that of nature. In learning the mother tongue, this power like every
other that is distinctively human develops from the animal nature, and
quite slowly at first both in respect to the vocal organs and the command
of words. The child cannot speak with undeveloped organs, and at first
it has little desire to speak for it knows almost nothing. The desire and
the power to speak develop in proportion to the gradual acquisition of
cognitions through perception. Nature recognizes no other way of teach-
ing the child to speak, and art to assist must take the same slow method,
and must profit by all surrounding and available attractions. The

740 PESTALOZZI — SWAN SONG.

mother must allow the charms of seeing, hearing, feeling, and tasting to
have full play on the child. These sense-impressions will awaken the
desire to give them expression, that is, to speak. The mother must con-
tinually vary her tones, speaking now loudly, now softly, sometimes
singing, and sometimes laughing, so as to awaken the desire to imitate.
The sense of sight must also be enlisted by exhibiting different objects
and associating the impressions with fitting words. Each object should
be presented in the greatest possible variety of relations and positions,
and care should be taken that each impression, matured in the child's
mind through perception, is properly expressed. Art, that is, enlightened
maternal care and love, can greatly relieve the tedium of Nature's
methods in teaching the child to speak, and education must investigate
the means, and present an orderly succession of exercises adapted to
that end. The mother's heart, duly enlightened, will be found ready to
apply these means with loving solicitude.

Mental development in its natural course first seeks help from art in
the acquisition of speech. But this is not enough. It demands from art
facilities for developing the power of combining, analyzing, and com-
paring all objects apprehended through perception and held clearly in
charge by consciousness; that by these means, this capacity for appre-
hending and judging correctly may gradually develop into true intellect-
ual power. Mental development and the culture of our race which
depend upon it, demand the continual improvement of educational
methods. In their nature and scope these methods proceed from our
inherent ability to unite those objects which have passes from perception
into knowledge, to separate and compare them and by this means to
acquire the power of judgment. To expand our powers of thought into
judgment, and elaborating it into universal usefulness, is the important
end of elemental v education; and as the capacity of applying our knowl-
edge is evidently first stimulated by counting and measuring, it is c 1< ar
that the desired end must be sought in the simplifying and improving
the methods of teaching number and form.

III. When in the third place we ask- What are those principles, and
how applied, from which proceed the culture of the human mind and
heart so necessary to civil and domestic life? we see that these principles
are both psychical and physical. We also see that the true nature of these
principles consists in the cultivation of our powers of reflection and judg-
ment though the careful exercise of our perceptive faculties, and that the
most important of these exercises relative to number and form. Whoever
has trained his mental faculties in accordance with these principles, and
is skillful both with head and hand, has within himself the foundation
•of all art, and needs only to extend his power in order to become pro-
ficient in any particular branch. This attainment of manual dexterity is
the means to the physical development of art power, and bears the same
relation to it as number and form do to mental development.

[These extracts from the last printed utterances of Pestalozzi,
:as to the true aims and methods of elementary human culture, are
in perfect accord with the Meditations of the Recluse (Evening
Hour of a Hermit) printed fifty years before.]

PESTALOZZI — THE MOTHER AND PIETY. 741

"How does the idea of the Divine Being, of God the Father arise in
my soul ? How can the child be taught to love, to trust, to thank, and
obey Him ? " Simply by learning to love, to trust, to thank, and obey
first the mother and the father, and others in the family — "for he that
loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom
he hath not seen ? " These virtues of love, confidence, gratitude, and
obedience originate and must be cherished in the natural relations of
mother and child and in family life rightly conducted.

The mother is impelled, as it were, by instinct, to nurse and foster her
child, to afford him shelter and happiness. She satisfies all his wants,
she removes from him all that is unpleasant to him, she assists his help-
lessness — the child is provided for and made happy ; the seed of love begins
to be unfolded.

A new object strikes his senses; he is astonished, afraid — he cries; the
mother presses him more fondly to her bosom ; she plays with him, amuses
him ; he ceases from crying, but the tears remain in his eyes. The object
reappears, the mother again throws around him her protecting arms, and
comforts him with a sinile — he cries no longer; his bright, unclouded
little eye answers the mother's smile ; the seed of confidence lias taken root
in his soul.

The mother runs to his cradle whenever he has any want ; she is there
in the hour of hunger; at her breast his cravings are hushed; when he
hears her step approaching his winnings cease; when he sees her he
stretches out his little arms; while hanging at her bosom his eye beams
with satisfaction ; mother and satisfaction are to him but one idea — it is
that of Gratitude.

The germs of love, confidence, and gratitude grow rapidly. His ear
listens to the mother's footstep ; his eye follows her shadow with a smile ;
he loves whoever resembles her; a being who resembles his mother is, in
his idea, a kind being. He beholds the form of his mother — the human
form — with delight; whoever is dear to his mother is dear to him; he
embraces whomever she embraces, kisses whomever she kisses. Tlie love
of mankind, brotherly love, springs up in his heart.

The practice of obedience, which is at first opposed by the tendencies
of the child's sensual nature, is more especially the result of education,
and not of instinct. Nevertheless, its first development is in a manner
instinctive. Love is preceded by want, gratitude by satisfaction, confi-
dence by apprehension, and obedience by violent desire. The child cries
impatiently before he waits patiently, ratience goes before obedience, of
which it is the basis. The first steps in the acquirement of that virtue
are merely passive; they are founded upon the feeling of necessity.

Nature opposes the storming child by unbending necessity. The child
knocks against wood and stone; nature remains unbending, and the child
ceases to knock against wood and stone. The mother begins in the same
manner to oppose the turbulence of his desires. He raves and kicks —
she remains inexorable; he ceases to cry and accustoms himself to subject
his will to her's — and the seeds of patience and obedience are unfolding
themselves in his heart.

By the united action of love, gratitude, confidence, and obedience, the
conscience is awakened, — first, the shade of a feeling that it is wrong to
rave against a loving mother, — that the mother is not in the world for his
sake only; this leads to the feeling that other beings and things, nay, he
himself, are not made for him only; and here are the first germs of duty

These are the fundamental features of moral development, arising from
the relation in which nature has placed the child to its mother; and in
them is the root of that disposition of the soul by which man is drawn to
his Maker, — that is to say, our feelings of union to God through faith
spring essentially from the same root as those from which the infant's at-
tachment to its mother springs. The development of these feelings, like-
wise, follows the same progress with reference to both.

i»ESTALOZZI'S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.

LET a graduate of any good public school imagine a system of schools
permitting indeed, though after a most laborious and imperfect fashion,
for the wealthy and noble, large acquirements ; but, for all those likely
to attend what answer to our common or public schools, teaching only
reading, and that alone, or at most with church singing, and memoriz-
ing of texts and hymns ; reading all day, by one pupil at a time, from
the droning A, B, C, up to whatever rhetoric was highest in grade ; in
that even shrill yell which was the elocutionary rule fifty years ago,
without any possible regard to the meaning of what was read, or
indeed of what was committed to memory ; no arithmetic, no geogra-
phy, no grammar, no writing, even. Let him imagine this single study
taught in dens almost like prisons ; by men absolutely ferocious in man
uers and feelings : who whipped a single scholar — as Martin Luther'
master did him — fifteen times in one forenoon; who feruled, caneq
boxed, slapped, rapped, and punched, right and left ; made children knee
on peas and sharp edges of wood ; in short, ransacked their own dull
brains for ingenious tortures, and a language twice as copious as Eng-
lish, besides Latin and Greek, for nicknames and reproaches, to inflict
upon the youth of their charge ; schools to which parents threatened to
send contumacious children, as if to the {: Black Man." or any other
hideous, unknown torment; schools almost precisely as destitute of any
kindly feeling, of any humanizing tendency, of any moral or religious
influence, as any old-fashioned Newgate or Bridewell. Let our gradu-
ate imagine, if he can, all this. Then let him further imagine a stale
of society stiffened, by ages of social fixity, into immovable grades, and
where ;' the lower classes" were to be permitted this, reckoned their
appropriate education, but no more. Let him still further imagine great
and far-reaching political, social, and intellectual disturbances, working
in powerful conjunction, upsetting all manner of laws, systems, distinc-
tions, and doctrines, preparing all minds to hope for. and to admit, better
beliefs, and better opportunities, for themselves and for others. And
lastly, let him imagine a man possessed of the vastest capacity for la-
bor, a mind fruitful of expedients and experiments to the very highest
degree, and no less clear and firm in finding and adhering to funda-
mental generalizations, an absolutely unbounded and tireless benevo-
lence, a love for humanity and a faith in his principles little less perfect
and self-sustaining than that of an apostle ; who steps forth just in thaf
period of intense receptive mental activity, and in the place of that di-
abolical ancient school system, proceeds not only to propose, but to
demonstrate, and in spite of sufferings, obstacles, and failures enough to

PESTALOZZ1S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY. 743

have discouraged an army of martyrs, effectually to establish a system
which not only, in the words of its official investigators in 1802, was
'; that true elementary method which has long been desired, but hith-
erto vainly sought ; which prepares the child for every situation, for
all arts and sciences ; which is appropriate to all classes and condi
tions, and is the first indispensable foundation for human cultivation ;
which not only was thus intellectually the absolute ideal of education,
but whose very atmosphere was one of kindness and encouragement,
whose perfection was to depend upon its identity with the affectionate
•discipline of a mother ; which expressly included, and even preferred,
the poor, the orphan, and the helpless ; and which, last and best of all,
was fundamentally inwrought with such hygienic, ethical, and relig-
ious principles that its legitimate result would be to make a strong, and
wise, and just man, upright among his fellows, mutually respecting and
respected, and a trusting worshiper of God."

Let our graduate imagine this, and he may comprehend what the
•Germans think of Pestalozzi. The reverence and gratitude which they,
in common indeed with all Europe, though in somewhat higher degree,
entertain toward him, were well exemplified in the festival observed in
Germany, Switzerland, and Holland, on the 12th of January, 1846, the
hundredth anniversary of his birthday, and in the consequent nroneeri-
•ings ; of which a brief account follows.

The conception of this celebration originated with that veteran and
most useful educator, Dr. Adolph Diesterweg, then director of a sem-
inary at Berlin. A mistake of a year, founded on dates given by good
authorities, occasioned a partial celebration on the 12th of January,
1845. This, however, was made a means of wider notification and
effort for the following year, and we translate the most characteristic
portion of the call, which was signed by forty-eight eminent teachers
and educators, including Diesterweg himself.

" His (Pestalozzi's) life and labors testify that no object lay nearer his
heart than to secure for neglected children an education simple, natural,
pure in morals, re-enforced by the influence of home and school, and ade-
quate to the needs of their future life. A concurrence of untoward circum-
stances prevented the permanent success of such an orphan asylum, or
poor school, though proposed and often attempted by him. For this rea-
son the idea has occurred to various of his admirers and friends, in vari-
ous places, of establishing such institutions, and one first to be called
' Pestalozzi Foundation.' The undersigned, having the permission of
the authorities, have associated for the establishment of such an insti-
tution, to be a monument of the gratitude of the whole German father-
land toward that noble man. This call is intended to inform the public
of this design, and to request active co-operation, and contributions in
-money.

" The Pestalozzi Foundation is intended to afford to poor children and
orphans an education suitable to their circumstances, and in accordan
vith Pestalozzi's views for this purpose.

744 FESTALozzrs HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.

"]. The institutions founded will he situated in the country, whcrtr
jnly, as the undersigned believe, can the education of orphans succeed.

•• 2. The pupils will, from the beginning, besides intellectual, moral,
and religious education, be trained to domestic, agricultural, or indus-
trial knowledge and capacities.

U3. The managers and matrons to whom the family education of the
pupils will be confided, are to labor in the spirit of 'Leonard and Ger-
trude' and • How Gertrude Teaches her Children,' and the supervisors
and officers of instruction will endeavor not only to put in practice the
principles of the l Idea of Elementary Training] but to develop and
p-^pagate them.

u * * * \ye tnug appea] with confidence to all who feel themselves
bound to gratitude toward Heinrich Pestalozzi ; to all who feel for the
children of the poor and for orphans; to all who expect beneficial con-
sequences to home and school education from the revival and develop-
ment of the spirit of Pestalozzi, which the undersigned believe to be
the true spirit of education ; we appeal, in short, to all friends of the
people and of the fatherland, for efficient aid to this undertaking — at
once a monument of gratitude to a great man, and an attempt to sup-
ply an urgent want of the present age.
JERLIN. January 12, 1845."

A second appeal was put forth. July 3d of the same year, by Diester-
weg. uto tne teachers of Germany," eloquently setting forth their pro-
fessional obligations to Pestalozzi. calling upon them for corresponding
efforts in aid of the enterprise, and proceeded to refer again, in verv
pointed terms, to the characteristically charitable and thoroughly prac-
tical aspirations of Pestalozzi for the education of neglected children,
and to the similar character of the proposed institution.

" It was his chiefest wish to dry the tears from the cheeks of orphans,,
and to educate them ; he longed to be the father, the friend, the teacher
of the unfortunate and the neglected.

" Do you. therefore, teacher of the ccTiion school, friend of the people,
prove your gratitude to Heinrich Pestalozzi. by doing your part for the
Pestalozzi Foundation — no monument of bronze or of stone. ; for none
out a living monument is worthy of him — which shall stand, within the
territory of Germany, a proof of the thankfulness of posterity, an ever-
lasting blessing to children, to the cause of education, and human de-
velopment."

The institution spoken of in these documents was intended to be a
single central one, to be endowed by the contributions of all donors, and
to be a model and parent for others throughout Germany ; the sura
requisite being computed at 30.000 thalers. about $22.500.

Hut although sympathy with the general purpose thus hrought into
notice was universal and lively, difficulties, apparently chiefly sectarian
soon arose, in regard to the special feature of a first central institution
and these resulted in the holding of many local festivals instead of one
great one, and the organization of many local Pes i!ozzi Foundations

1M1STALOZZIS HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY. 745-

or Pestalozzi Socit '. cs, instead of one general one. Such festivals went,
observed, and institutions or societies established, at Berlin, Dresden,
Leipzig. Frankfort, Erfurt, Basle, and many other places. We proceed
to give some account of some of them, with extracts from the more sig-
nificant portions of the numerous addresses, and other documents con-
nected with them.

Dr. Diesterweg delivered, at Berlin, a characteristic and interesting
iiscourse. In describing the revolution caused by Pestalozzi in the
estimation of different studies, he said : —

" After the Reformation, that is, after the establishment of German
common schools, studies were divided into two classes: one including
the Bible, catechism, and hymn-book, the other including the so-called
trivial studies. The former were for heaven — that is, to prepare !br
eternal happiness ; the latter for earth, and its ordinary employments.
The consequence of this universally-received distinction was. that the
religious teachers asserted a dignity far higher than that of the <; trivial"
teachers. This notion is theoretically denied by Pestalozzi — at least by
immediate logical conclusion, though I do not think he discussed the
subject specially — and by his school. We have learned to comprehend
the moral influence of instruction in itself, aside from any peculiar char-
acter in the subject taught; and, still further, the direct influence of all
true instruction upon the development of the pupil's character. This
influence does not depend upon the thing taught, but in the manner of
teaching. As in Hegel's system of philosophy, so it is in elementary
instruction — and should be in all instruction — its strength is in its method.
This principle will naturally not be understood by eloquent word-teachers
and lecturers from chairs of instruction ; and last of all by those dicta-
ting machines and note-readers, who, to the disgrace of pedagogy and
the shame of the whole age, exist even at the present day. But we,
Pestalozzi's scholars and followers, comprehend it, have mastered it,
and can demonstrate its results in our schools. What would Adam
Ries, that pattern of all blind guides, say, if he could comeito life again
after three hundred years, and taking up an arithmetic* — which has-
become capable of use, as an intelligently arranged elementary study,
only since Pestalozzi's time —should find in it a chapter " On the moral
influence of instruction in arithmetic ? "

He sums up the changes brought about by Pestalozzi, thus: —

"Instead of brutal, staring stupidity, close and tense attention; for
dull and blockish eyes, cheerful and pleased looks ; for crooked backs, the
natural erectness of the figure ; for dumbness or silence, joyous pleas-
ure in speaking, and promptitude that even takes the word out of anoth-
er's mouth ; for excessive verbosity in the teacher, and consequent
stupidity in the scholar, a dialogic or, at least, a dialogic-conversational
method; for government by the stick, a reasonable and therefore a seri
ous and strict discipline ; for mere external doctrines and external disci
pline, a mental training, in which every doctrine is a discipline also

* Grube's Arithmetic.

746 PESTALOZZI S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.

instead of a government by force, and a consequent fear of the school
and its pedant, love of school arid respect for the teacher."

He proceeds to suggest how far-reaching was the influence of Pesta-
lozzi's labors in mere school-rooms : —

" But is the spirit of Pestalozzi not entitled to some part of the
credit of the elevation of the German people? Did this remarkable
change spring up in a night, and from nothing? It is, rather, to be
wondered at, that the Pestalozzian method should have brought about
such vast results without foreseeing them. It would be unreasonable
to claim that this alone accomplished the wonder ; but it was certainly
not one of the least of its causes. Lord Brougham said that the
twenty-six letters of the present schoolmaster — those ; black hussars ? —
were mightier than the bayonet of the soldier. Consider what a child
must become, who is taught as we have described, for six or eight years
or more. Consider what a nation must become, all the youth of which
have enjoyed the influence of such an education. What a project does
this idea open in the future ! The Jesuits of Freiburg had a glimpse
of it, though no more, when they said that they wanted no schools
which should educate ' Apostles of Radicalism ; ' an expression shame-
ful, not to Pestalozzi, but to the utterer of it."

Further on, he forcibly portrays the need and the requisites of such
an institution as the intended Pestalozzi Foundation.

" The help we would atford is radical, is the only help. We consider
all institutions worthy of praise and of assistance, which contribute to
the amelioration of human suffering, the advancement of morals and
good training. Therefore we speak well of other institutions having
the same general design with ours: institutions for the care of children;
orphan houses ; rescue institutions for neglected children ; associations
for changing prisons into institutions of reform, and for the care of
dismissed criminals and prisoners. But none of these go to the root of
the matter; they do not correspond with the precise want; they do not
go deep enough. Many of them almost seem to be organized to make
sport of the laws of human nature and reason. What, for instance, ac-
cording to those laws, can a child be expected to become, who has grown
•up with ignorant parents, from whom it can learn nothing but vices ; who
has learned from them to lie and to steal, to wander about and be a vag-
abond ? In general, we answer, only a man who will misuse his physical
and mental powers ; that is, a criminal, a wild beast, dangerous to the
welfare of society. That society, for self-preservation, shuts up such
men, like wild beasts, in a cage ; or punishes, or kills him ; although, nine
times out of ten, he became such because he must ; as probably any one
of us would have done ! Is this proceeding reasonable ? Do we suc-
ceed when we try to reform an eld rogue ? Or do you suppose that
children, if they only attend the infant school, are under school discipline,
and are confirmed, can be otherwise left in charge of abandoned parents,
<A not be contaminated by the pestilent atmosphere around them ?
• -erience teaches, and it can not be otherwise, that the influence of

PESTALOZZIS HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY. . 747

father and mother, whether good or bad, is infinitely greater than that
of infant schools, or any schools. Those who have managed reform
insulations understand this best. The reason of the ill-success of such
is, that they first begin too late ; for they take the children after they
have shown ineradicable marks of debasement, ft is easy to protect an
uncontaminated child from vice ; but to restore to a contaminated one
its pristine health and purity, is infinitely difficult, if not impossible.

" Our intention therefore is, to receive into the Pestalozzi Foundation
children who can not be expected to be educated in their own homes;
and those will naturally be preferred, who are destitute of a father or
mother, and are without means. The existing orphan houses do not ful-
fill their purposes ; and their organization does not usually answer the
requirements of the Pestalozzian principles. We would establish mod-
«1 institutions for the education of neglected children, which shall observe
natural laws, in which the child shall receive a family education. An
education together with hundreds is — it must be said — barrack instruc-
tion. A child who is to become an adult, with human feelings, must
have enjoyed the thorough and kindly care of the feminine nature and
-of an affectionate father. All true education is individual. Where the
letter of the law prevails, where each child is managed by general
rules, where it is crily a number or a figure, which it must be in a
school of hundreds, there is no human education, in any higher sense.
A girl even, brought up among hundreds, is, so to speak, even when a
child, a public girl."

Adverting afterward to the financial economy of such institutions,
he observes that Adam Smith remarks, that " The support of the poor
and of criminals costs £8,000,000 a year in England and Wales. If
£2,000,000 of this were invested in education and good bringing up, at
least one-half of the whole amount would be saved."

He then adverts, with some feeling, but conciliatingly, to the unex-
pected breaking up of the original plan of one central society and insti-
tution, by means of denominational jealousies ; and gives a brief sum-
mary of the finances, &c., of the undertaking, as follows: —

'• Twelve thousand copies of our call were sent throughout all parts of
Germany. The sympathy exhibited is altogether encouraging and
delightful. Some hundreds over 2,000 thalers ($1.500) are already col-
lected ;* the beginning of the harvest. The ministries of the interior
and of religion have recognized and approved the labors of the society ;
his excellency Postmaster-General Von Nagler has granted the frank-
ing privilege for sending copies of the call, and for remittances ; th«
school councilors of the various governments, and those authoritie
themselves, have assisted earnestly in sending the call ; and the schoi
inspectors have assisted in collecting. Many of them also, as. for in
stance, at Potsdam and Frankfort-on-the-Oder, have sent us orders for
the pamphlets published by us on account of the Foundation. Princes
thave kindly aided the purposes of the society by contributions, ana

• January 12. In March, the sum reached about 7.000 thalers.

748 PESTALOZZI.S m M>IU;I>TJI BIRTHDAY

many private persons also have given, some in one amount, and some in
subscriptions during five years. But what has encouraged us most, is
the universal sympathy of the body of teachers ; both of common
schools, and upward, even to the universities. What has a poor com-
mon school teacher, or a seminary pupil, to give? But they do give.
I have received with warm thankfulness their gifts, from one silbergro-
schen upward. They give with poor hands, but warm hearts.

'; From five or six different places we have received offers of land for a
location, sometimes for nothing; from the Mark of Brandenburg, Silesia,
Saxony, &c. ; we hear favorable accounts from Dessau and Saxe-Mein-
ingen ; in short, we have good hopes that the plan of the Pestalozzi
Foundation will succeed. The festivals, held almost every where to-
day, will assist us ; and we count with certainty on the aid of our own
fellow-citizens. The undertaking is spoken well of by every one.
Even noble ladies are enthusiastic for the good cause. Three sisters?
whom the Genius of Poetry overshadows. (I am proud of being their
fellow countryman.) propose to publish their compositions together for
for the benefit of the Foundation. Some gentlemen have already done
the like. From almost every locality in Germany, from Tilsit to Basle,
from Pesth to Bremen, I have received encouraging and sympathizing
letters. In Pesth, a society of teachers is collecting for the German
Pestalozzi Foundation ; contributions have come in from the Saxons in
Transylvania; in Amsterdam and Groningen, committees have been,
formed for the same purpose ; we are expecting money from across the
ocean. In Konigsberg, delegates of the magistracy and city authorities
have joined with the committee of teachers, the more worthily to cele-
brate the day."

Several pastors, teachers, and officials in the Canton of Aargau put
forth a call for a Pestalozzi festival at Brugg, in that canton. To this
there soon afterward appeared a reply, signed by a number of Reformed
clergymen of the same canton, which may illustrate the character of
the difficulties to which Diesterweg alludes. This reply states, in sub
stance, that the signers of it had, several years before, set on foot a
subscription for a similar purpose, (it may be remarked that the call it.
self recited that the government of Aargau resolved, as early as 183&
to erect an institution for the education of neglected poor children, as 9
memorial of Pestalozzi ; which, however, financial considerations ren
dered it necessary to postpone ;) that the proposed plan of operation
was unfortunate, inasmuch as

1. The estate of Neuhof, formerly Pestalozzi's, intended to be bougfc
as a site for the Foundation, was unsuitable and ill-placed for such P.
purpose, loo large, and too expensive.

2. Ostentatious commemorations of donors were promised, by voti\e
tablets, &c.

3. The intended scheme of training the pupils of the Foundation
into teachers for similar institutions is not practicable, because it can not
be determined whether they are capable or inclined to that employment

1'ESTALOZZI'S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY. 749

which requires rare and lofty qualifications ; and because experience
shows that such teachers are to be trained, not in such schools for them
but. in a course of actual employment under proper conditions.

4. Experience shows that such institutions should not be commenced
-on a large and expensive scale, but by means of single individuals,
properly trained, to supply the place, to the pupils, of fathers, and to
fbegin quietly, with a small number.

5. The proposed institution is to receive both Reformed and Catho-
lic children ; a plan which experience shows to be unlikely to succeed.
And, if the principal be decidedly either Catholic or Reformed, children
of the other communion will not be intrusted to him ; and if he is not
decidedly of either, then those of neither will.

These reasons are clearly and strongly stated, and seem to have much
force.

At the festival at Basle, Rector Heussler gave some odd details of
Pestalozzi's early life ; among others, '; He was so careless and absent-
minded at school, that his teacher once remarked, shrugging his shoul-
ders. 'Heinrich will never come to any thing;' and it is well-known that,
afterward, when he was at the summit of his fame, his assistant. Kriisi,
confessed that he (Pestalozzi,) could not either write or compute de-
cently; and that a moderately difficult problem in multiplication, or di-
vision, was an impossibility to him at the age of fifty, and when the
most eminent Swiss teacher ! As little promising, at the first view, was
his exterior ; and on this account he declared, very naYvely, to his bride,
that he, her bridegroom, was outwardly a most dirty man, as all the
world knew ; and that he presumed that this was not the first time she
had heard so."

Longer or shorter accounts are given in the Allgemeine Schul-Zei-
tung, and other periodicals, of many other celebrations. They usually
consisted of a meeting, at which addresses were delivered, poems recited,
hymns or songs sung ; sometimes followed by a dinner, with toasts,
short speeches, and convivial enjoyment. There was also a practical
part of the ceremony, viz., either a collection for the central society, or
the organization of a local one.

We subjoin, (from the Allg. Sch.-Zeitung,)pa.Tta of a quaint article
entitled ' ' Considerations on the character most suitable for a memorial
to Pestalozzi" and signed "Frankf. O. — P. — A. — Z.," which contains
much humor and good sense.

"But by what means is it proposed to fulfill this obligation (to Pesta-
lozzi)? Many persons are preparing a banquet of the usual character,
at so many silbergroschen a head, including half a quart of wine. Pro-
vision is made, also, for toasts, solemn and not solemn, long and short;
and, if the landlords do their duty, the consequent sickness will have
been slept off by next morning. These good folks do not obstruct the
progress of enlightenment, but they are not par excellence strict disci-
ples of Pestalozzi. In other places, the teachers, especially, are to be
assembled, inasmuch as they claim Pestalozzi as exclusively one of

750 I'ESTALOZZI'8 HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.

hemselves, though he was also a theologian and jurist. These gentlemen*
.dke no particular measures for overloading their stomachs — for reasons
best known to themselves. On the other hand, they are laboring upon
poems and orations and will, perhaps, produce some which will possess
much unction. But in order that their lights may not put each other
out, and that the imperium in imperio may not perish, they assemble
parish-wise, renewing the idea of the Holy Roman Kmpire. which was
neither holy. Roman, nor an empire, and in which there were so many
principalities that the State was invisible. Naturally, where there is a
festival to every ten schoolmasters, the 12th of January will be long
enough for a speech and toast from every one. On this occasion the
speakers will rather look away from the present, and consider the future.
Very right : this was with Pestalozzi's custom. But Pestalozzi kicked
down with his feet what he built with his hands ; beware that you da
not do so. Pestalozzi often used his heart instead of his head, and
reckoned without his host ; see that you do not imitate him in this.
Pestalozzi understood children's hearts, but not men's; and did not
avoid the appearance of evil, if only it did not appear so to him^
beware of following in his footsteps in this. A great Foundation is to
be erected, worthy of the German nation ; all German heads are to be
brought together under one German hat. for the sake of founding, some-
where— perhaps on the Blocksberg — a rescue institution for morally
endangered children. These certainly need to be protected, and Pes-
talozzi drew attention to the fact fifty years ago, and sacrificed his health
and his means in the cause. But will one such institution serve, how-
ever large — or ten, or twenty, or a hundred — for the forty millions of
German population? There are already thirty such institutions in
Wirtemberg; and there are still many children there in urgent need of
education and aid. But what will this rescue institution do ? Even if
it does not remain without a roof, like the Teutoburger Hermann with-
out a sword ; even if the builders finish up windows, cellars, and stairs
properly ; the chief requisite of a model institution is wanting— the father
of the family. Shall he be found in Diesterweg's seminary at Berlin,
or among Harni sen's pupils at Weissenfels? Is pietism, or illuminism,
to be taught in it ? The question is important to Germany, and Pes-
talozzis and Oberlins are scarce. One Louise Schepler would be worth
abundantly more than a council of ten seminary directors. This seems
not to have been considered ; the building, and always the building, of
the institution, is urged. There is no lack of model institutions. Not
to cite Wirtemberg. there is the Rauhe Haus, at Hamburg — is a better
one wanted ?

'• Again ; are neglected children to be sent fifty miles, or more, by mail-
route, with a policeman, to the model institution? Or. are distant do-
nors to have nothing but a distant view of it? Must they make along
journey merely to get a sight of it ? ' But,' it isbaid, ; all this will do no
harm, if the occasion shall succeed in causing a union of the German
teachers.' A union — a significant word ! Where did as many as three

PESTALOZZl S HUNDREDTH dlRTHDAY. 751

Ger nans ever unite, unless it were over a bottle? And still more, three
Get man schoolmasters, each quite right in his own school! Unite?
With whom ? Against whom ? Does not ' unite ' mean ' exclude ? '
For if the teachers are to unite, they will separate from the clergy.
Are all the teachers in Germany to dissolve their present relations, arid
array themselves under a pedagogical general, as if to make an attack
on the ministers?"

The writer then attacks the plan of selecting teachers' orphans, in
pa ticular. and concludes with a forcible suggestion of the necessity of
iiu ividual sacrifice and effort, as the only true mode of reforming or
protecting unfortunate children.

" Spend no more time in building and in choosing heating apparatus,
but take vigorous hold of the work itself. Let each one take a child,
and say, ' He shall be mine. I will win him to myself with love, so that
he shall prefer to follow me rather than his thievish father and godless
mother. He shall stop cursing, because he loves me; and stealing, be-
cause I will teach him better. He shall enjoy learning, because he
shall find in the school a retreat from his parents. I will not be deterred
by dirt or ignorance, if I can only save a soul, and spare the world one
criminal. I would rather make my house a rescue house for him.
thar* to send him to a Rnuhe Haus, among the morally neglected.'

:> (f the admirers of Pestalozzi— and I do not mean teachers alone —
would adopt this method on the 12th of January, 1846, and form an as-
sociation, then the day would be and remain a blessing to Germany.
God grant it ! "

MEMORIAL TO PE8TALOZZI IN THE SCHOOLHOU8E AT BIRR

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