In my translation I have aimed to give a faithful reproduction of Rousseau's thought, and to this end I have seldom or never resorted to paraphrase, even when the author's meaning seemed obscure, but have made my rendering as nearly literal as good English would allow. It is quite possible that my close adherence to the text may sometimes have betrayed me into the use of Gallicisms, but such mistakes are less vexatious and misleading than those which almost inevitably result from free translation.

Partly to re-enforce my own opinions of Rousseau and his work, but much more to place before my readers the opinions of distinguished Frenchmen on their immortal countryman, I add an appendix containing short quotations from a very remarkable book by John GrandCarteret J. J. Rousseau juge par les Francais d'aujourd'hui.

My translation of the Emile is made from the collected edition of Rousseau's works, in twenty-nine volumes, published in Paris, 1824, and edited by Auguis. The notes unsigned are mainly Rousseau's own, and those in brackets are by his editors; my own annotations (signed P.) are such as I have been accustomed to give students as aids in the interpretation of the Emile.

As I sum up my impressions of Rousseau and the Emile, I chance to be upon a mountain of the Cumberland range, where the peculiar effects and charms of Nature. are almost wholly undisturbed by human agency. My cottage is in the midst of a forest, where wild birds and wild flowers hold undisputed sway.

As I have read and written and meditated from day to day thus in touch with Nature, I think I have been able in some measure to discern the secret which was working itself Outward in Rousseau's heart and thought; and this sympathy with Nature has helped me to under

stand and interpret much that before had been obscure and meaningless; and, while not blind to his weaknesses and vices, I come from my studies with a new admiration and respect for the man and his works.

William H. Pa ne. Univer

ity Of as ville,

Peabody Normal College, June 18, 1892.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

This collection of reflections and observations, without order and almost without connection, was begun to please a good mother,* who knew how to think. My original purpose was to write only a memorandum of a few pages; but my theme led me on against my will, and that memorandum insensibly became a sort of book, too large, doubtless, for what it contains, but too small for the subject which it discusses. I hesitated a long time about publishing it; and I was often made to feel, while working at it, that the writing of a few pamphlets is not a sufficient preparation for composing a book. After making vain efforts to do better, I think it my duty to publish my book just as it is, judging that it is important to turn public attention in this direction, and that, even though my ideas are perchance bad, my time will not be wholly lost if I succeed by this means in stimulating others to produce better ones. A man who, from his retreat, casts his reflections before the public without puffers or partisans to defend them, without even knowing what is said or thought of them, has no reason to fear that, if he has deceived himself, his errors will be accepted without examination.

* Madame de Chenonceaux.

I shall say little of the importance of a good education, nor shall I stop to prove that the education of the day is bad. Thousands of others have said this before me, and I have no desire to fill a book with things which everybody knows. I shall merely observe, that for countless ages there has been a perennial protest against the current practice, but no one has seen fit to propose a better. The literature and the learning of our century tend much more to destroy than to construct. Censure is administered in a tone of authority; but in order to bring about a reform, there must be adopted a different tone, and one less pleasing to philosophic arrogance. Notwithstanding so many treatises whose only purpose, it is said, is public utility, the very first of all the utilities—that of forming men—is still forgotten. My subject was entirely new after Locke's treatise,* and I am very much afraid it will be still so, after my own.

We do not know childhood. Acting on the false ideas we have of it, the farther we go the farther we wander from the right path. Those who are wisest are attached to what is important for men to know, without considering what children are able to apprehend. They are always looking for the man in the child, without thinking of what he was before he became a man. This is the study upon which I am most intent, to the end that, though my method may be chimerical and false, profit may always be derived from my observations. I may have a very poor conception of what ought to be done, but I think I have a correct view of the subject on which we are to operate. Begin, then, by studying your pupils more thoroughly, for it is very certain that you do not know them. Now, if you read this book of mine with this

* Thoughts on Education, 1721.

purpose in view, I do not believe that it will be without profit to you.

With respect to what will be called the systematic part of my work, which in this instance is nothing but the order of nature, I allow that this is what will disconcert the reader the most. It is here, doubtless, that attacks will be made upon me, and perhaps with justice. People will think they are reading, not so much a treatise on education, as the reveries of a visionary upon education. How should I proceed in the case? In what I write I do not follow the ideas of others, but my own. I do not see as other men do, and this has long been a reproach to me; but is it within my power to give myself other eyes, and to affect myself with other ideas? By no means. It is within my power, however, not to confide too much in my own opinion, and not to think that I am wiser than all the world beside. In a word, I can not avoid feeling as I do, but I can be on my guard against my own feelings. This is all I can do, and is what I shall engage to do. And if I sometimes speak in the indicative mode, it is not for the purpose of imposing my beliefs on the reader, but to speak to him just as I think. Why should I declare, under the form of a doubt, a thing of which I have not the least doubt? I say exactly what passes within my own mind.

While setting forth my opinions with such freedom, I have so slight a purpose to make them seem authoritative that I always state my reasons for them, so that men may weigh them and judge of me accordingly; but though I have no obstinate desire to defend my opinions, I still feel obliged to assert them; for the maxims which give rise to differences of opinion between myself and others are by no means indifferent. They are maxims whose truth or falsity it is important to understand, for they