ings of the Society, but he still entirely sympathized with the spirit of its aim and efforts. He was, besides, one of the last survivors of that knot of enlightened and devoted patriots who, long before the French Revolution, might have carried out useful reforms in Zurich, had they but had more practical views and a better knowledge of human nature.

This conformity between the objects of the Helvetian Society, and those which he had so enthusiastically worked for in his youth, was the source of Pestalozzi's inspiration for his address at Langenthal, which is written with extraordinary force and spirit for an old man of eighty, suffering under the effects of a heavy and recent misfortune.

The author begins by painting the happiness Switzerland enjoyed after the wars that gave her her independence. At that time she was tranquil at home and respected abroad; the needs of her inhabitants were proportionate to their resources; religion, love of country, kindliness and moderation reigned in every heart; there was a certain practical equality too in the conditions, manners, and habits of life of her people, in spite of the inequality of rights that resulted from the feudal system. At that time, also, there were few very rich people and few very poor, by far the greater number of her inhabitants being peasant-proprietors.

Pestalozzi then shows the changes that this state of things gradually underwent under the influence of closer contact with foreign nations, the Reformation, and especially the introduction into Switzerland of that industrial life which draws so much capital into a country.

Wherever the larger industries have flourished, there has always been an increase of wealth and of general comfort, accompanied however by a still greater increase in the general needs, and an enormous inequality in the distribution of the wealth.

On the one hand, a few colossal fortunes have been rapidly amassed, and have given us an example of the luxurious life of great cities; on the other hand, the numbers of those who have but their hands, and are so often wanting in wisdom, foresight, and economy have been steadily increasing. As to the small proprietors that were formerly so numerous, how many of them, attracted by the golden bait of industry, have forsaken the work of the fields and no longer possess any

After showing that this state of things is growing worse from day to day, and is likely soon to constitute an imminent danger to social order and civilization, the author, as the only means of fighting the evil and slowly curing it, urges that elementary education shall be brought within the reach of all, since it alone can give a natural development to all a child's powers, especially his moral powers, in their application to the practical life for which he is intended.

Such, in substance, is the last work we have of Pestalozzi's We know, it is true, that on the 21st of November of the same year, a paper of his, on the early education of children in the home, was read before the Society of Friends of Education at Brugg, but this paper has not been preserved.

CHAPTER XVIII.

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF THE AUTHOR.

IN relating the history of a great man to whom we are indebted for so many useful ideas, I have felt until now a very natural repugnance to speak of my own impressions, formed during the nine years that I was his pupil. Not only was I afraid of interrupting my narrative or of unduly prolonging it, but I wished first of all to place before my readers authentic documents, my master's own words, and the opinions of distinguished men far better qualified to judge of him than myself.

At the same time, the numerous publications I have had to consult would not always have enabled me to arrive at the truth, if my own personal recollections had not helped me to estimate the relative value of all these documents, at times so contradictory. Especially in writing the sad story of the decline and fall of the Yverdun institute was it important to have had a near view of men and things, so as to be able to pass over the many slanderous imputations into which passion dragged the men who were quarrelling round Pestalozzi, to the misfortune of the honourable old man.

Moreover, as I have to sum up the views, teaching, and lasting work of this extraordinary man, and as what I shall have to say will not always conform to the generally received ideas on the subject, I feel very strongly that my readers have a right to krow something of the personal experience which entitles me as it were to their confidence. I not only happened to be in an exceptionally favourable position for becoming acquainted with the master's ideas and those of his principal coadjutors, but I am to-day, probably, the last survivor of those who enjoyed the like privilege; and feeling that I have in my possession a most sacred trust, I hold it to be my duty not to let it perish with me. Born in 1802, at Yverdun, where my father, a French

refugee, had married and settled, I entered Pestalozzi's school in 1808, after having been prepared by one of the under-masters for the elementary class, by some preliminary sense-impressing exercises in number and form. I was only a day scholar at the institute; but as I stayed for lunch, and often slept there, I was well acquainted with the working of the interior.

My first impression as I went into my class-room was a disagreeable one. The room was very untidy, and the furniture and other things of such a primitive kind as today can hardly be imagined. There were tallow candles, for instance, without candlesticks or snuffers, and just held by a twisted wire stuck into a piece of wood. The language and cries, too, of all these Germans grated on my ear, and their manners seemed so strange that I felt as if I had suddenly been plunged into an atmosphere of gross vulgarity.

But this impression was of short duration. I was very soon won over by Pestalozzi's gentle kindness, by his keen yet tender look, and by the cordiality which seemed to pervade the house. I was soon caught, too, by the infectious good humour of my companions, and the almost passionate eagerness with which they did most of their work. The following fact, which to-day I can hardly understand, proves that I was very quickly captivated by the charms of Pestalozzi's elementary education. I was not quite seven years old, and yet when the winter came on, and I was obliged to get up very early and set off before it was light to the other end of the town in order to be present at the first lesson at six o'clock, I never dreamed of complaining.

When Pestalozzi met one of his young pupils in the corridors, he would lay his hand caressingly on his hair, saying: "You, too, mean to be wise and good, don't you? Then he would talk to him of his parents and God, often ending with a few words about the necessity of putting ourselves into harmony with Nature, always good and beautiful, like its Maker. I did not always quite understand these little talks, but the impression that remained was a good one. In the junior class in which I was placed, the teaching was given in French, although during my first years at the institute the mother-tongue of most of the pupils, masters, and servants was German. Their language, tastes, and habits regulated the whole of the internal life at the Castle;

it was, in short, a German-Swiss household transplanted into French Switzerland. Every one was obliged to speak French at certain hours of the day, at other times all had to speak German. In this way every pupil became more or less quickly accustomed to the use of a foreign tongue; but, on the other hand, there resulted a sort of mixture of the two languages which was not very good for either of them.

During my first four or five years at the institute, I was too young to observe anything of Pestalozzi's doctrine; my childish impressions, which were very favourable, alone remain. I took pleasure in nearly all my lessons, especially in natural history, geography, mental arithmetic, elementary geometry, singing, and drawing. I have, moreover, preserved an affectionate and grateful remembrance not only of Pestalozzi, but of most of the other masters, who looked after us with so much kindness in our lessons, games, and walks, and especially in our mountain excursions.

These excursions in the Jura were a source of great delight to us. They were arranged to suit the ages of the different classes, and as soon as I was seven I began to take part in them. Our masters, of whom my favourites were Krusi and de Muralt, looked after us with almost motherly solicitude, making frequent halts to rest our little legs, refreshing us, when we were tired, with a few drops of spirit on a piece of sugar, and now and then, when the distance was too great, procuring some rustic conveyance for us, in which we would sing gaily as we passed through the villages, where the peasants often gave us fruit.

As soon as we got to the high mountain pastures under the pines, we lost our feeling of fatigue, and fell to playing games or collecting herbs and minerals. We often gathered at some good point of view to sing the wild, simple, Alpinė melodies our masters loved to teach us. To-day, after more than sixty years, I can recall these songs as clearly as in those early days when I first sang them, and they still seem very beautiful to me.

On returning from these excursions, the pupils had to describe them, either orally or in writing, according to their ages. There was generally a great deal to say, as our attention was always carefully drawn to everything likely to prove instructive. These excursions were, in fact, practical lessons in natural history and geography.