HoUinger Corp. pH8.5 LB 629 .H58 1866 Copy 1 IPESTJ^^LOZZI A. LECTXJUE BEFORK THE fljilahlpljian Societg of tje State lormallmkrsitg, JUNE, 1866, By EDWIN C. HEWET^t PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE SOCIETY. PEORIA, ILL.: N. C. NASON, PRINTER, 31 MAIN STREET. 1866. COKRESPONDENCE. Normal, June 26, 1866. Mr. E. C. Hewett: — After listening to your interesting Lecture of last Saturday even- ing, the Philadelphian Society appointed the undersigned a committee to solicit of you a copy of the same for publication. By granting the request, you will confer a favor not only upon the members of the Society we represent, but upon many others interest- ed in the cause of education in our State. Very truly yours, C. W. MOORE, G. S. ROBINSON", A. C. COTTON. Normal, June 30, 1866. Gentlemen: — The materials for my Lecture on Pestalozzi, — a copy of which you ask for publication, — were chief! 5^ drawn from Barnard's American Journal of Education, — a work to which the members of the Society have access. Nevertheless, I have collected from several volumes, and have put the whole in a somewhat briefer form than it is to be found in Bar- nard; if you think the paper will be of use to the Society, a copy is at your service. Yours very truly, E. C. HEWETT. To C. W. MOORE, ) G. S. ROBINSON, \ Committee. A. C. COTTON, I PESTA^LOZZI If modern systems of education are in any degree superior to those in vogue one hundred years ago, that fact is due to the influence and labors of no man more than Pestalozzi, the famous Swiss School- master, whose name is in every body's mouth, but about whom very little is generally known, even among teachers. The life and labors of this man shall be the theme ofi this paper. And I propose to present, first, a brief sketch of his life, and to fol- low it by some observations — first, on his personal characteristics; secondly, on his theories of education -, and thirdly, on his methods of putting those theories in practice. John Henry Pestalozzi was born in the city of Zurich, Switzerland, January 12, 1746. His mother was the daughter of a Protestant clergyman j and his father was a physician. They were both of Ger- man descent. When he was six years of age, his father died, leaving the family with but slender means of support. The boy was of a fee- ble constitution, and no measures were taken to educate him physi- cally, — he never took part in manly sports, nor mingled in society. To use his own words: "I saw the world only v^ithin 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 1 did not live in the world in which I dwelt." His mother — a most loving, earnest. Christian woman, — assisted only by an intelligent and most faithful servant-girl, brought up her little family as well as her narrow circumstances would allow. But the consequence was that Pestalozzi grew up most clumsy and awkward in body, — sensitive and nervous, with an imagination morbidly active, — but as deficient in foresight, calculation, and every requisite of a practical nature, as it was possible for him to be. His education, especially in the fundamental branches, was quite meagre. In his disposition, he was warm-hearted, benevolent, and patriotic, and much attached to his mother and home. Never was the proverb that "The child is father to the man" truer than in his case. He studied at first for the ministry, but afterward turned his atten- PESTALOZZI. tion to the law. He says he was influenced to this change " by a de- sire to find a career that would be likely to procure him, sooner or later, the opportunity and means of exercising an active influence on the civil condition of his native town, and even of his native land/^ He had, previous to this time, fallen in with the works of Rousseau^ and the writings of the speculative Frenchman, especially his Emile, seemed to him to contain the highest wisdom. Even now his young head was full of projects of a political and social character. In these projects he was joined by several youths of his acquaintance; and among the motives that influenced them was a fierce hatred of the aristocracy. This motive never lost its power with Pestalozzi. About this time one of his young friends died, and upon his death-bed ad- vised Pestalozzi to enter upon no course which, from his good-natured and confiding disposition, might become dangerous to him. " Seek,'^ said he, "for a calm and tranquil career; and, unless you have at your side a man who will faithfully assist you with a calm, dispassionate knowledge of men and things, by no means embark in any extensive undertaking whose failure would in any way be perilous to you." Soon after, Pestalozzi himself was dangerously sick. On his re- covery, partly by the advice of his physician, and partly influenced by the writings of Rousseau, he renounced the study of books, burnt his manuscripts, and soon joined himself to a visionary and impractical farmer in the Canton of Berne. This man was largely engaged in the cultivation of madder; and his plantations were exciting great atten- tion at the time. Moved by ideas awakened in his mind during this connection, Pestalozzi bought about one hundred acres of poor land near the junction of the Aar and Limmat, upon which he erected a rather fine house or villa, gave to the estate the name of " Neuhof,'' and, joining himself with a firm in Zurich, he prepared to commence the cultivation of madder on his new estate. At this time Pestalozzi was about twenty-one years old. He had formed an attachment for a young lady in Zurich, the sister of one of his young friends, and possessed of some property. A letter which he sent her about this time was, I will venture to say, unlike any other love-letter that ever was written, and I will read it to you : * "My dear, my only Friend: " Oar whole future life, our whole happiness, our duties towards our country and our posterity, and the security of virtue, call upon us to follow the only correct * Barnard's Am. Jour, of Ed. Vol. III., p. 406. PESTALOZZI. guide in our actions — Truth. I will, with all candor, make known to you the serious reflection 1 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 of all I must tell you that in future I shall seldom dare to approacli you. I have already come too frequently and too imprudently to your brother's house ; I see that it becomes my duty to limit my visits to you : I have not the slightest ability to conceal my feelings. My vSole art in this respect con- sists in fleeing from those who observe them ; I should not be able to be in com- pany with you for even half an evening, without its being possible for a moder- ately 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 present 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 improvi- dence, incautiousness, and a want of presence of mind to meet unexpected changes in my future prospects, whenever 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 con- ceal 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 fre- quently 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 rea- son assigns; whenever my country or my friend is unhappy, I am myself unhap- py. 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 tranquil- lity of a wise man, who is ever true to himself Of my great, and indeed very reprehensible negligence in all matters of etiquette, and generally in all matters which are not of 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 confi- dent of my heart, the partner of all my most secret counsels. A great and hon- 6 PEST ALOZ ZI est simplicity shall reign in my house. And one thing more. My life will not pass without important and very critical undertakings. I shall Tiot forget the precepts of Menalk, and my first resolutions to devote myself wholly to my coun- try; 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 alleviate the need and misery of my fellow countrymen. What consequences may the undertakings to which I feel niyself urged on, draw after them ; how unequal to them am I; and how imperative is ray 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. De- cide 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 mu«h ; I fear to lose you, dear, when you see me as I am ; I had often determined to be silent; at last I hare conquered myself. My con- science called loudly to me, that I should be a seducer and not a lover, if I were to hide from my beloved 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." Two years later, he married the young lady and brought her to his house at Neuhof. The misfortunes which were sure, sooner or later, to fall upon such an undertaking in the hands of such a man, did not long delay. He had no sort of ability for business; his assistants were unfaithful; the Zurich firm examined his affairs and withdrew their capital. Nevertheless, he determined to go on with farming, and to join with it the instruction of poor children. In 1775 he opened his poor school at Neuhof, and soon had fifty or more pupils. His plan was to combine manual labor with instruction. The pupils were to work on the farm in summer, and in winter engage in manufactures, Pestalozzi instructing them as they worked. Here, as always, his good nature, zeal, and imagination, outran all exhibition of common sense. In answer to the demands of their parents, he paid the children far more than their labor was worth. He was constantly annoyed by the meddling visits of the parents, especially on Sundays, — oftentimes they removed their children as soon as they were decently clothed. PESTALOZZI In theory, he clearly perceived the importance of dwelling upon the elements until fully mastered, before passing to any thing higher. But in practice, his imagination and ambition led him constantly to violate his sound theory. The same fault appeared in his work. Be- fore the children were able to spin well the coarsest thread, he made them attempt the manufacture of the finest. As he says, himself, " I wanted to make muslin fabrics before my weavers had acquired suffi- cient steadiness and readiness in the weaving of common cotton goods.'' These mistakes, added to his ever-present incapacity for business, soon involved him in debt, absorbed nearly all his wife's property, and to- tally alienated the confidence of his friends. The school failed, and, in 1780, was closed. He was now in a wretched plight. "My friends," he says, "now only loved me without hope; in the whole circuit of the surrounding district, it was every where said that I was a lost man, that nothing could be done for me." His wife was sick, — her money was gone, — Pestalozzi had none 3 and, in his fine country- house, they often suffered from the actual want of food and fuel. He attempted no more educational projects for about eighteen years. He now began a rather brilliant career as an author. His first work, entitled, " The Evening Hours of a Hermit," contains a series of remarkable aphorisms on Education, Theology, etc., to which I shall refer hereafter. About a year later appeared his book entitled " Leonard and Ger- trude." Leonard and Gertrude are husband and wife, — he is a rath- er weak man, but she is a woman of remarkable powers ; and, by her house-keeping, the instruction of her family, and her philanthropic efforts for the benefit of a neighborhood of poor and degraded peas- ants, Pestalozzi meant to give his ideal of a true home, of proper fam- ily education, and of the benefits which educated people should confer on the community in which they live, especially upon the poor, ig- norant, and oppressed. It was for this class of people that the large- souled, but visionary, man ever thought and toiled. For seventeen years longer he remained at Neuhof, and wrote sev- eral other books, and a part of the time edited a periodical. But none of his works gave him as much reputation as his " Leonard and Gertrude." This was noticed by many eminent men, and bodies of men ;-^— and Pestalozzi received several invitations to remove from Neuhof and enter upon the work of education. All these he, how- ever, declined, and remained in his retirement, excepting a visit to Germany in 1792. during which he made the acquaintance of Goethe, PESTALOZZI. Herder, and other eminent German writers. During the period im- mediately preceding the French Revolution, he for a period joined the "Illuminati/' but soon left them. He had, earlier in life, been much influenced by the writings of Rousseau; but he had too much regard for genuine Christianity to follow blindly the lead of French Infidels. The Revolution, however, cast its influence over Switzerland, and the country was consolidated into an "inseparable republic," under five Directors, after the model of the French revolutionary govern- ment. Pestalozzi's writings had made him a man of considerable mark, — he was, moreover, a warm friend of one of the Directors, who held kindred notions with himself on the importance of educating the poor. His ideas he urged upon the government with much vehe- mence and pertinacity; until, at last, hoping by that means to make him quiet, he was ofi'ered an office under government, and was asked what office he would accept. To this proposal he made the memorable, noble, and characteristic reply : " I will be a school- master." An opportunity soon offered. In 1798, the French army burnt the town of Stanz, seven miles from Lucerne, and massacred many of its inhabitants. The entire canton was laid waste, and multitudes of children wandered about the country, homeless and destitute. His friend, Legrand, the Director, called on Pestalozzi to go to Stanz and take charge of the little wanderers. An old convent was given up to him, and here he gathered eighty poor children, from four to ten years old, most of them wanderers and outcasts, in a horrible condi- tion, " infected with itch and scurvy, and covered with vermin." Scarcely one in ten could say the alphabet. Pestalozzi was now more than fifty years old; but, with very slight assistance, he took charge of these children, taught them, trained them to work, trained them in the family, and was not only their master, but father, mother and servant at the same time. Sickness broke out among them, — the parents of such as had parents showed great ingratitude ; and Pestalozzi must have sunk under his labors, had not the French army returned and converted a part of his con- vent into a hospital. This broke up the school, in less than a year after it begun. Pestalozzi went to the mountains to recuperate, and the few children who remained were cared for by a clergyman who possessed a large measure of Pestalozzi's noble spirit. In this school Pestalozzi tried several experiments in education, — among the rest, on account of the want of assistants, the plan of setting the older PESTALOZZl. ^ pupils to teach,— a plan which Lancaster afterwards adopted, and which is the general practice in schools bearing his name. In 1799 Pestalozzi began to instruct in the primary schools of Burgdorf, in the Canton of Berne. After a few months, he was obliged to suspend his labors for a time, on account of a pulmonary difficulty. But in 1800, assisted by Krtisi, who had been a teach- er in Appenzell, and had migrated thence in company with twenty- eight children,— by Tbbler, who had been a private tutor in Basle,— and by Buss of Tubingen, he began an educational establishment at Burgdorf His assistants were remarkable men, and entered into his plans and carried them out with zeal and ability. Pestalozzi soon be- gan another educational book, with the queer title " How Gertrude Teaches her Children.'' This, with his ^'Evening Hour'' and "Leonard and Gertrude," written twenty years earlier, and a "Book for Mothers," of later date, comprises his principal educational works. In 1802 Napoleon required the Swiss people to send a deputation to him at Paris. Two districts chose Pestalozzi as their deputy. " 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 him- self up with the teaching of the A B C." In 1803 the old cantons of Switzerland were restored; and the next year, the old castle in which Pestalozzi's school had been held being wanted for government purposes, Pestalozzi was obliged to remove the establishment. He went at first to Buchsee, near Hofwyl, in the same canton. After re- maining a few months, he accepted the invitation of the people of Yverdun, at the head of Lake Neuchatel, to remove to their town. Here the institution was fixed, in 1805, in an old castle, where it re- mained twenty years, or during its entire existence. Although in his sixtieth year, Pestalozzi now entered upon his labors with more zeal than ever. The teachers and pupils increased in numbers, and the institution began to have a wide reputation. Some of the most noted educational men in Europe were connected with it as pupils or teach- ers. Among them was Carl Bitter, the founder of the modern system of Geography. Princes and ambassadors visited the school, — pupils of all ranks came from far and near, — Pestalozzian schools began to be established in other places. Some people praised the school ex- travagantly, others criticised and sneered at it with equal feeling. Both had reason tfor this course, for good and evil were strangely 10 PESTALOZZI. blended in the establishment. On the whole, however, it seems to me, the school was inferior to what it had been at Burgdorf. Among Pestalozzi^s teachers was one Schmid, who seems to have been about the only man in the institution who had any practical, ex- ecutive ability. But he was selfish, ambitious, and stern and over- bearing to his colleagues. The quarrel ran high between Schmid and his fellow-teachers in 1810, and they abused each other shamefully. During this year Schmid left the institution and wrote against it. But the institution suffered so much without his practical ability that, early in 1815,*Pestalozzi and Niederer, — the teacher who had led the opposition to Schmid, — induced him to return. Near the close of this year, Pestalozzi's noble and faithful wife, who had been his companion in sunshine and shadow for forty-five years, died. At her funeral, Pestalozzi took a Bible and, laying it on the breast of the corpse, exclaimed: "From this source you and 1 drew strength and courage and peace.'' The old man was now nearly seventy years of age, but twelve of the stormiest years of his life yet remained to him. Immediately after his wife's death, the quarrel be- tween his teachers broke out afresh. Twelve left the institution in a body, — among them Krtisi, who had labored with him for fifty years. Two years later, Niederer followed; and a bitter law-suit between Schmid and Pestalozzi on one side and Niederer on the other ran through seven years. In 1817, the old man was so nearly crazed by his many troubles that he had to flee to the Juras for repose. While here he wrote poems, — the burden of one of which is : "Through all the dark and stormy days, The Lord hath been a rock to me ! My soul shall praise His holy name ! " The next year, Schmid published his master's educational works, which brought to the old man about $10,000. Pestalozzi still sighed for the 'poor children; and, in 1818, estab- lished another school for them near Yverdun. He received pupils for five years; and, at the end of that time, proposed to open a poor school on his old estate at Neuhof, with these pupils as teachers. He had a house erected for that purpose, but what was his chagrin to find that not one would go with him ! Education had aroused an ambition which was not to be satisfied with teaching in a poor-school. Pestalozzi had but one son, — he had died in early manhood, leav- ing a son. This grandson lived on the estate at Neuhof; and, in PESTALOZZI. 11 1825, Pestalozzi, "an old man and full of years/' broke up the in- stitution at Yverdun, and went to pass his last days with his grand- son, on the spot where, fifty years before, he had begun his first labors as a schoolmaster. Here he died in 1827, at the age of eighty-one years. With mel- ancholy and sadness he reviewed his past life, for almost all his cher- ished plans had seemed to fail, and his last years had been poisoned with strife and bitterness. One of his pieces written in this retire- ment he called "The Song of the Dying Swan." In 1846, the one-hundredth anniversary of Pestalozzi's birth was celebrated by a large number of his pupils and friends ', and, could the old man have been present at the assembly, he would have learned that his life was by no means a failure. The personal characteristics of this remarkable man may be sketched in a few words. In person and countenance, he was awkward and ugly; and in his dress and appearance, any thing but neat and tidy. And yet the love and high enthusiasm which always reigned in his heart so lighted up and animated his face, as to make one forget his ugly and uncouth appearance. Love and pity, especially for the poor and neglected, were the mainspring of his long and self-sacrificing labors; and such a power did they give him as to make his influence magnetic over his associates, both teachers and pupils. At Burgdorf, Krusi and Buss were allowed $125 a year for their labors, by the gov- ernment. This sum they appropriated to the institution, receiving nothing in return but board and lodging. While at Stanz, he taught his poor-scholars philanthropy and morality both by precept and ex- ample. At the close of one of his lessons, he told the children of the sufferings of the people of Altorf, especially of the poor children. His flock requested that these poor children might come and share their privileges. He represented to them that such a course would reduce their now scanty rations, and abridge their other comforts ; but they had so caught the spirit of their master as to continue their re- quest. I have the story from Prof. Kriisi, now of Oswego, N. Y., — the son of Pestalozzi's faithful assistant. Enthusiasm,— the sine qua non of the true teacher, — was a marked element of Pestalozzi's character. It never failed him, even at eighty years. Oppressed by troubles and infirmities, we have seen him at- tempting to found another poor-school, at Neuhof His zeal often tri- umphed over bodily weakness. Another story from Krusi illustrates this. "On one occasion his school was visited by a foreign ambassa- 12 1»ESTAL0ZZI dor, — Pestalozzi was confined to his house by neuralgia or rheumatism. Contrary to the advice of his friends, he left his room and hobbled to the school, leaning on the shoulder of a supporter. Upheld in this way, he began to ask questions. Soon his eye began to flash, — he re- linquished his support, — began to walk about the room, — and, ere he was aware, a cure was effected of which his physician never dreamed.'^ Another story, by one of his assistants, shows the same characteris- tics, and, at the same time, gives us a view of one of his weaknesses. By nature, he was frank and open, — his letter already read is a strik- ing proof, — but so strong was his belief in the value of his work, and so desirous was he of giving others a favorable opinion of it, hoping thereby to accomplish good in other quarters, that he resorted to a common trick of dishonest teachers, — that of showing off his best scholars before company ! * " As many hundred times in the course of the year," says Ramsauer, "as for- eigners visited the Pestalozzian Institution, so many hundred times did Pestalozzi 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 confidence 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 insti- tution, silly, curious, and often totally uneducated persons, who came because it was ' the fashion' ! On their account, we usually had to interrupt the class instruc- tion and hold a kind of examination. In 1814, the aged Prince Esterhazy came. Pestalozzi ran all over the house, calling oui : ' 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 infi- nite wealth ; he has thousands of bond-slaves in Hungary and Austria. He is cer- tain 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 Ap- penzell and came to me. But he received an elementary education, according to his individual aptitudes, without let or hindrance. Now he is himself a teacher. Thus you see 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. But he will show you every thing 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, in my zeal, till I was quite hoarse, believing that the Prince was thoroughly convinced about every thing. At the end of an hour, * Barnard's Am. Jour, of Ed. Vol. IV, p. 92. PEST ALOZZI . 13 Pestalozzi returned. The Prince expressed his pleasure at what he had seen. He then took his leave, and Pestalozzi, standing on the steps of the hotel, said : ' He is quite convinced, and will certainly establish schools on his Hungarian estates.' When we had descended the stairs, Pestalozzi 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 maisou rouge and said to Pestalozzi : ' Look here, you struck yourself against this key when we were going to see the Prince an hour ago.' On closer observation it appeared that Pestalozzi 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, al- ready 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." Like other men of intense enthusiasm and feeling, he was irascible and impatient. Although it was a fundamental principle of his theory to dwell on the elements till they were thoroughly mastered before proceeding to any thing higher, he was always desirous of immediate results; and never had patience to review thoroughly any lesson. Al- though he impressed it upon his teachers to abstain from personal vio- lence to the pupils, himself bestowed cuffs and blows somewhat freely. We have seen how the selfishness and oppression of the aristocracy aroused the ire of Pestalozzi. Against them he wrote with terrible violence; he was also exceedingly bitter against the systems of educa- tion and the instruction-books then in vogue. The first part of his book, " How Gertrude Teaches her Children," is violently polemic. His disposition, and his views of things, made him cynical in thought and speech nearly all his life And his want of an early, thorough education led him into many of the common errors of self-taught men,— among the rest, that of putting the responsibility for apparent evils in the wrong place. For instance, it is hardly conceivable that he charged the art of ^printing with the unfortunate condition of ed- ucation in his time. He also boasted that he had not read a book in thirty years. It was in some sense the misfortune of Pestalozzi to have a very clear ideal of what ought to be,— while he had little ability to re- alize that ideal This accounts for many of the glaring inconsisten- cies of his life,— this is the reason why his descriptions of his efforts and institutions are often very false. Probably unconsciously, he de- scribed them as he would have them, rather than as they were. But, 3 • 14 PESTALOZZT fortunately for him, his ideals live, while his attempts to realize them are little known and nearly forgotten. Lastly, — he seems to me an eminently Christian man. Here, as in other parts of his life, he is full of inconsistencies. He lived in a faithless age, — he was much influenced by the French infidel writers, — some of his own writings have little reference apparently to a Savior, — yet, unlike Rousseau, he made constant reference to an Almighty Pow- er, — he expressed his deep faith in the Bible, — many of his writings are eminently Christian, — and, chiefly, his love, philanthropy and self-sacrifice may truly be called Christ-like. The writer in the "New American '' very justly says : " It is diffi- cult for the reader, unfamiliar with the history of education, to under- stand how this man, whose whole life, considered in detail, seems to have been a succession of failures, should have exercised an influence so powerful, as he evidently has, upon the civilized world for the last fifty years; but the true explanation is, that in his educational theories he had brought to light great and abiding principles, and that his sys- tem was greatly better than his own exemplification of it." This is, without doubt, true; and it now becomes us to inquire what those living, fundamental principles are. I will first quote two or three of the aphorisms in the ^' Evening Hour," already mentioned : "The intellectual powers of children must not be urged on to remote distances before they have acquired strength by exercise in things near them." "Real knowledge must take precedence of word-teaching and mere talk." (What a pity he did not himself always remember this truth !) "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." (Is not this Gospel? "If any man will do my will, he shall know of the doctrine.") " 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 ed- ucation in the duties of citizens. But nearer than father or mother is God, ' the closest relation of mankind is their relation to Him'." From Pestalozzi's works, we may gather, I think, the following nine most important principles of a true education : I. It must be according to nature, — education can create nothing; it only develops. " It is not the educator that implants any faculty in man; it is not the educator that gives breath and life to any facul- PESTALOZZI. 15 ty; he only takes care that no external influence shall fetter and dis- turb the natural course of the development of man's individual faculties." II. Education results chiefly from the efi'orts of the pupil, — it can not be done for him, — the teacher can only assist, encourage, and direct. It is said of his first poor-school at Neuhof : "His Institu- tion was to comprise the means for sufiicient instruction in field labor, in domestic work, and in associated industry. This was not, however, its ultimate purpose. That was, a training to manhood; and for it these other departments were only preparatory. First of all, he pro- posed to train his poor-children to exertion and self-control, by for- bearing and assiduous discipline, and by the ever-powerful stimulus of love. He aimed to possess himself of their hearts, and from that starting-point to bring them to the consciousness and attainment of every thing noble and great in humanity.'' III. Progress must be slow, but sure, — there must be no hurry, and no new thing must be attempted till the last is mastered, — thus every forward step is secure. IV. The progress must be harmonious, — of the memory, — the reason, — the perceptive faculties, — the eye, — the hand, — the whole physical frame, — and the conscience and afi'ections; no one is to be developed at the expense or neglect of the others. Y. The instruction must be adapted to the peculiarities of each pupil; for as the faculties and powers to be developed originally difi"er in individuals, no one system or method can be best for all. VI. Observation should be made the basis of all knowledge, — es- pecially of all definitions and other uses of language. Pestalozzi says : "Out of the observation of an object, the first thing that arises is the necessity of naming it; from naming it, we pass on to deter- mining its properties, that is, to description ; out of a clear descrip- tion is finally developed the definition, — the distinct idea of the ob- ject. Definitions not founded on observations produce a superficial and unprofitable kind of knowledge." VII. All observation should be followed by reflection, and a study of the material for thought thus acquired. VIII. All language should proceed from within, and should be an expression of thoughts already possessed, — in all cases, the idea or thouo-ht first, and the name or expression afterward. "The perfection 16 PESTALOZZI. of observation should precede the acquaintance with the literal sign, and the opposite way leads directly to the world of fogs and shadows, — and he who is only concerned to know the word at the earliest possi- ble moment, and who deems his knowledge complete as soon as he knows it, lives precisely in that world of fog, and is only concerned for its extension." What intelligent teacher does not say ''Amen" to this? IX. All true education should begin with the mother, and God should be its principal object. The importance of the mother's teach- ing is Pestalozzi's great hobby. It is doubtless hardly possible to over- rate it; but he says very little about the father, and then speaks of him as so absorbed in his work as to have little to do with teaching his children. Like many other of his idiosyncracies, this is probably due to the circumstances of his own childhood. These principles are the Pestalozzian leaven that is still working in the educational lump; but how did he exemplify them? With all this clearness of vision, he had not the practical ability to teach well a vil- lage school ; and his practice was often directly in the face of his most valuable theories. The * same author who described the reception of the Hungarian Prince, describes Pestalozzi in his school at Burgdorf, at the time of the writer's pupilage: •{•"I got about as much regular schooling as the other scholars, namely, none at all; 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 child- like and grateful heart to his forever. " It is impossible to give a clear picture of this school as a whole ; all 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 reference to these elements. There was no regular plan in 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 togeth- er. There were about sixty of us, boys and girls, of ages varying from eight to fifteen years ; the school-hours were from eight to eleven in the morning, and from two to four 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. * Ramsauer. \ Barnard's Am. Jour, of Education. Vol. IV, p. 84. PEST ALOZZI. 17 " 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 time that Pestalozzi was reading aloud sentences about natural histo- ry, (as exercises in language.) But we did not know what to draw, and so it hap- pened that some drew men and women, some houses, and others strings, knots, arabesques, or whatever else came into their heads. Pestalozzi never looked to s^e 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 pasted on a 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 Ta- ble, 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 ques- tioned them nor set them tasks, these exercises, which were otherwise very good, remained without any great utility. He had not sufficient patience to allow things to be gone over again, or to put questions; and in his enormous zeal for the in- struction 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 ob- served in sentences generally 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 wainscot. ^'■Pestalozzi — Very good. Now repeat after me : — I see a hole in the wainscot. I see a long hole in the wainscot. 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. Beside the square yellow figure, I see a round black 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. % 18 PESTALOZZI. 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 in 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 con- tinuously, that he could not hear us repeat after him, the less so as he never wait- ed for us when he had read out a sentence, but went on without intermission and read off a whole page at once. What he thus read out was drawn up on a half- 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 — monkeys,' or 'keys — keys.' There was never any questioning or recapitulation. "As Pestalozzi in his zeal did not tie himself to any particular time, we general- ly went on till eleven o'clock with whatever he commenced at eight, and by ten o'clock he was always tired and hoarse. We knew it was eleven o'clock by the noise of other school-children in the street, and then usually we all ran out with- out 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 sympathy 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 Emmen, and for recreation and amusement looked for different kinds of stones. I had to take part in this occupation myself, although it ap- peared 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 de- posited at home, they were never looked at again. He retained this fancy throughout his life. It was not an easy thing to find a single entire pocket-hand- kerchief 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 me 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 sen- tences without halting for a moment. As I did not understand a bit of what was 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 a 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." PESTALOZZI. 19 The glaring errors in Pestalozzi's practice seem to be these : T. His attempt to proceed to higher matters before the lower were mastered. II. His frequent and monstrous commission of that against which he so violently and justly declaimed, — the putting of words in the place of ideas. The extract just read illustrates it painfully. In this case, he made the mistake which teachers and authors often make, viz: after thinking a matter out clearly by long and hard effort, that is, after making the careful observation he insists on, — he puts the result of his thinking or observation in brief, technical laneuao-e, and seems to believe that when the pupil has learned his statement he must know as much about the subject as he who makes the s^te- ment. I conceive this to be one of our worst errors at the present time, and in our own schools. This is putting words for thoughts with a vengeance ! The fact is, that the worth of language is deter- mined by the condition and discipline of the hearer's mind. Pestalozzi required his pupils to learn long lists of names in Natu- ral History, seeming to think that the mere name would be a full key to all the ideas concerning the thing named. In Geography, the pupils recited after him lists of the names of places, with their situa- tion, with no map or other aid to help in giving them a place. Alas for his theories ! III. His attempt to render teaching merely mechanical was mon- strously absurd. Feeling the necessity of a correct teaching in the family and in the school, and seeing the difficulty of training mothers and teachers to be intelligent and independent, he conceived the no- tion that, by simplifying education and inventing certain processes and writing them in a book, mothers and teachers, however ignorant, might take pupils through the course laid down with results almost perfect. " My aim,'' he says, " was to simplify teaching so far that all the common people might easily be brought to teach their children, and almost to render the school superfluous for the first elements of instruction." His biographer says of his plan : " The mothers have only to keep strictly to these books in the instruction of their child- ren ; jf they do this, the mother of the most limited capacity will in- struct as well as the most talented ; compendiums and methods are to equalize their minds." Again: ''According to his views, a teacher had nothing to do, but to take his scholars through the compendium, with pedantic accuracy, according to the directions how to use it. 20 PESTALOZZI. without adding thereto, or diminishing therefrom." Can any thing be more preposterous, — less Pestalozzian? A pleasant business it must be to teach in that way ! And yet, I think, this idea is not for- eign to some minds in these days. Some people, in my opinion, seem to imagine that it is the business of normal schools to furnish just such an educational machine to each pupil as Pestalozzi dreamed he had invented. Yet, notwithstanding all his mistakes and failures, we doubt not his biographer says the exact truth of Pestalozzi : "When those purely external appliances and artifices which he employed for mechanizing education shall have been so modified as to be no longer recognizable, or shall have been laid aside and forgotten, — then Pestalozzi's ' Leon- ard and Gertrude,' the 'Evening Hour of a Hermit,' and 'How Gertrude Teaches her Children,' will live on and exercise an influence, though even these works, like every thing else that is human, 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." Another writer, comparing Pestalozzi with Rousseau, says : " Pesta- lozzi was inspired by a love of humanity, and by a desire to benefit the poor; not by a war upon the rich, but by educating them. And * * * God blessed the purity of his aspirations, and granted him more than he asked ; — the joyful expectation of a great future, and to plant, by his writings and his wisdom, the seeds of never-ending development." LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 211 138 A I