shines forth. The children feel themselves free, their activity finds even a powerful 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 unity." "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." 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 foster the spirit of peace, of love, and of mutual brotherly fellowship. The disposition of the great body of our inmates is good. A spirit of strength, of repose, and of endeavor rests on the whole. There is much in our midst that 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 hand, every spark of good and noble feeling which still glimmers even in the bad ones encouraged and developed. The children are in general neither hardened by punishment, nor rendered vain and superficial by rewards. The mild forbearance of the most amiable household has the most undisturbed play in our midst. The children's feelings are not lightly wounded. The weak are not made to compare 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 thing. But we always ask him if he can do it perfectly. As little of the struggle 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 respect to that which we acknowledge 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, inclinations, 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

worldly temptations and apparent good fortune from the purity, simplicity, 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 educational 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 here 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 sufficient 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 and there choked. Neither did we perceive the weeds at that time; indeed, as we then lived, thought, acted, and dreamt, it was impossible that we should perceive them."

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 demands; 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 in our midst. Worldly honor will increase this poison. O God, grant that we may no longer be overcome by our delusion. I look upon the laurels which are 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 in my house appear crowned with laurels before my eyes, and the laurels suddenly go up in flames. They can not bear the fire of affliction which must and will come upon my house; they will disappear; they must disappear. My work will stand. But the consequences of iny 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 I-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 hindrances 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 fullness 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 instruction and education, he naturally considered it all-important that people should have a good opinion of his institution. By the bulk of the 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 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 institution, silly, curious, and often totally uneducated persons, who came because it was the the fashion.' On their account, we

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 thousands 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 individual 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 important. 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, 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, 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 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 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, 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."

Icer

After this highly characteristic account, I ask the reader whether he will cast a stone at the amiable and enthusiastic old man? tainly will not, though I could heartily have wished that, faithful in small things and mindful of the grain of mustard seed, he had planted 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 spirit foresaw future development in what was already accomplished, and expected that others would benevolently do the same. This bold assumption has an effect on many, especially on the teachers of the institution. This appears to explain how, in the report on the institution, so much could be said bonâ fide which a sober spectator was forced to pronounce untrue.

But this self-delusion is never of long duration; the period of overstrung 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 mortuum of the report: the truth at last makes itself heard in tones of bitter remorse. Pestalozzi 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 human nature in all the above mentioned aspects. And in the same way, commencing with the circle of the child's observation, it gradually embraces the 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 insight 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 relation, constitute, therefore, the primary matter of the instruction; and from these subjects the knowledge of all separate branches 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 being 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 and organic whole, harmoniously bound together by necessary and eternal laws, and developing itself from something simple and original, so that we may thus bring 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 of nature; 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, “I express, not so much my own peculiar views on education in their original simplicity, as certain immature philosophical views, with