Chapter VI: Heinrich Pestalozzi

(1746-1826)

It was on January 14, 1789, in the desolate town of Stanz, “alone, destitute of all tools of teaching, alone!--superintendent, bursar, steward, and even maidservant, in a half-ruined house--surrounded by ignorance, disease, and unwonted things of all kinds,” that a fantastic Swiss began his career of “schoolmaster.” He had in his charge a group of orphan children, which “increased by degrees to eighty; all of different ages, some of good origin, others from the ranks of beggary, and all, with a few exceptions, wholly ignorant” (13: p. 186). As his faithful disciple Krüsi tells us, “in the matter of ordinary acquirements and methods of teaching he was inferior to any good village dominie” (13: p. 188, footnote). Without steadiness, without patience, without order, without art of speech, without clearness of thought, all that he possessed was the burning, self-forgetting enthusiasm of a loving heart, “_die Vaterkraft meines Herzens_.” “What a task,” he says, “imagine it; to elevate these children. What a task!” But he “attempted it, and stood in their midst, uttered various sounds and made them imitate them.” Lo! what was the response that came to this seemingly nonsensical teaching? “Whoever saw it was struck with the effect,” he writes later. “Truly it was a meteor that flashes through the air and vanishes. No one understood its nature. I did not understand it myself. It was the result of a simple psychological idea which had been revealed to inward consciousness, but which I myself was far from clearly understanding” (13: p. 186). Is not this the beginning whereby “the laughing-stock of the passer-by,” “a straw not fit to sustain a cat,” became the corner-stone of modern elementary education? If one looks for an example in which the singleness of a noble purpose and the purity of a loving zeal alone could accomplish a great thing in the world, he will probably find no better one than that of Pestalozzi. Indeed, there is no more interesting and inspiring, though pathetic life, than that of this “greatest pedagogical genius who has ever lived,” as Ziegler calls him. It is a living drama, in which a new spirit of the age, or rather a new prophecy, struggles to realize itself, through the fetters of misunderstanding, the opposition of tradition, and the blows of adverse fate.

Pestalozzi was, before all, a social reformer. His pedagogy was a part of his social philosophy, or rather the last fruit of his fervent efforts for the betterment of his people and country. Having been brought up in poverty and among the poor, he was well acquainted with the actual life of the country people. The inborn tenderness of his heart, ennobled by the influence of both his devout mother and uncle, deepened by the constant appeal of the helplessness about him, could not but be touched by the sight of the mass of humanity which was without right, without comfort and even without necessities of life. “Dear people, I will help you up!” was the utterance that came already from the lips of his boyhood. And he confesses in his later age: “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” (1: p. 671).

First, his childhood fancy was attracted by the good example of his uncle, and he wanted to follow his footsteps as a village pastor. While a student of theology at Zürich, he came under the influence of Rousseau, and was animated by an intense reformatory spirit. His immediate plan was to become a defender of the people’s rights as a lawyer. Then, finding his unfitness for the profession, he turned to agriculture, through which he intended to realize his philanthropic educational dream, according to Rousseauean principles. An orphanage which he established on his farm having a mill connected with it, Paul Monroe thinks, was probably the first “industrial school for poor children.” After having met with a succession of failures, ending in utter financial ruin, he turned “schoolmaster,” first at Stanz, then at Burgdorf, lastly at Yverdun. He organized an institute for female teachers. He became the trainer of educators who came from different parts of Europe and America to learn his spirit and method. Yverdun became the Mecca of pedagogues. Meanwhile he wrote extensively, not only on education, but on politics, finance, jurisprudence, prison systems and punishment, military affairs, industrial questions, and social problems, such as infanticide, home, and the church. But through all changes in his plans, circumstances, and activities, his central purpose remained the same--namely, the elevation of humanity working from within and from below. The poor, the destitute, the weak were always the dearest objects to his heart.

His pedagogy was by no means a studied one, like that of Comenius or Herbart. He is said to be the most unlettered of the great educational writers. But the true spirit and genius of the educator, which is more precious than everything else, was his possession. And with Pauline enthusiasm that “I am cursed if I do not work for these little ones of our poor fellow-creatures,” he simply threw himself single-heartedly into the task of their education. Thus his whole educational career was a series of experiments, and his pedagogy is its record.

If Rousseau’s plea was for the freedom of the “natural man” from the yoke of the artificialities of existing society, Pestalozzi’s was for the recognition of the divinity in the breast of even the humblest of humanity and its rescue from death. The worth of the poor and little was once proclaimed by the Founder of the religion of the universal brotherhood. But the gospel had been long forgotten until it was reproclaimed by the greatest lover of mankind whom the world has ever seen since Jesus of Nazareth. He is called by Mager the “Kant of pedagogy and didactics,” but I would rather name him “the Messiah of modern education.” And if Comenius’s philosophy of education was the perfect embodiment of the biblical Christianity of the seventeenth century, Pestalozzi was the burnt offering which the new humanized Christianity of the nineteenth century made at the altar of humanity.

“All the pure and beneficent powers of humanity,” writes Pestalozzi, “are neither the product of art nor the results of chance. They are really a natural possession of every man. Their development is a universal human need” (4: p. 122). Yet how this need has hitherto been unrecognized and neglected, especially for the lower strata of society! And this is the source of such a deplorable inequality and consequent instability in our social structure. The true remedy would come not through charity nor through revolution, but only through technical, intellectual, and moral elevation of the great neglected mass by education. This was not a mere theory or an ideal conception for him, but a working principle. See what confidence and hope he put into the divine possibility of destitute children, and with what love and reverence he protected their sanctity.

“Children, your good fortune is great. At a time when the great majority of children go on in neglect and abandonment, 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 to a one-sided, empty show of knowledge and 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; ... nor are the dubious impulses of passion used in your training. Among us, neither vanity nor fear, neither honor nor shame, neither reward nor punishment, as they are elsewhere almost universally used, purposely and as a 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 single view of your nature.... O God, No! 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” (1: p. 713).

This quotation from his address delivered on New Year’s day of 1809 gives us the essence of his philosophy of education. To bring about the natural, harmonious development of all the powers, faculties, and qualities, which are potential in every human being, is the aim of education. The key to open up these treasures of human, therefore divine, nature is the most human, the most divine, power of love and devotion.

Now let us examine more closely and minutely the meaning contained in this fundamental concept of his, which, thus stated, seems nothing new or striking, but if truly understood and applied would cause an entire revolution even in the education of our present day.

First, what does Pestalozzi understand by the “natural” development? “There is an impulse in every capacity of human nature, which compels its development from lifeless inactivity into a developed power” (1: p. 738). This impulse leads each one of our powers to a spontaneous activity or exercise, and Nature develops it by “the single method of its own activity.” This natural, organic unfolding of life, with its multiple activities, is necessarily harmonious when unhindered by human artifices or unfavorable environment. We must guard this natural harmony of human nature, upon which the peace and happiness of our individual and social life rest.

“No one faculty in the human child must be treated with exclusive or indiscriminate attention, for their co-agency alone can ensure a successful development of the whole being.” “Every one-sided development of our powers is untrue and unnatural; it is only apparent cultivation, ... and not human culture itself” (1: pp. 736, 737).

Pestalozzi is not only antagonistic to that kind of education which “has an external, limited end of culture, of morality, of social efficiency in view, and wants to fit the child to this,” but he opposes that type of pedagogue who requires the child to conform to a plasterlike model of a perfected man. Each particular child is always the end, the object, the standard.

“Whatever, therefore, man may attempt to do by his tuition, he can do no more than assist in the effort which the child makes for his own development. To do this so that the impressions made upon him may always be commensurate to the growth and character of the faculties already unfolded, and at the same time, in harmony with them, is the great secret of education. The knowledge to which the child is to be led by instruction must, therefore, necessarily be subjected to a certain order of succession, the beginning of which must be adapted to the first unfolding of his powers, and the progress kept exactly parallel to that of his development” (11: p. 611).

This method of leading or assisting the child along the course of his successive developmental stages in a natural, progressive order is what he terms “psychologizing education,” and this was the central problem of his whole experimentation, so far as the individual child was concerned. The discovery of his famous “Method of Elementary Instruction” was the fruit of his lifelong endeavor toward this end, but he considered his achievement only as a beginning.

Pestalozzi, in his advocacy of the natural, psychological method, seems to be echoing the voice of one who said: “Return to Nature, to human nature, to child nature!” But he goes deeper than Rousseau in his insight into child nature. While Rousseau pictured the natural growth of the child in an imaginary life, isolated from every human institution, Pestalozzi placed the child in his natural environment--namely, in the home under the loving care of parents. In the eyes of both, the course of Nature was divine and inviolable. But while Rousseau sought Nature’s work in the wilderness, Pestalozzi saw it in the home life. It is not physical nature, but a well-ordered home that can become the true cradle and workshop of human nature. Indeed, there has probably never been a thinker who emphasized the divine significance of home and mother so strongly as did Pestalozzi. His method of elementary instruction came from the study of child life in the home, and was first intended for home education. He was never tired of repeating that “a man’s domestic relations are the first and most important of his nature” (4: p. 77). He earnestly endeavored to convince the world that “it is the domestic virtues which determine the happiness of a nation,” and that “the home is the true basis of the education of humanity.” According to him, it is only to supplement the absence of proper home education that schools are needed; home ought to have been the educational institution for children. So he speaks in “Christopher and Alice” through the mouth of the good servant, Josiah:

“It is well that there are schools; and God forbid that I should be ungrateful for any good that they have 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 thing which our village folk do, by forgetting all 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: pp. 665-666).

Again he says in his address on his seventy-third birthday:

“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 time have almost universally lost the consciousness that they can do anything--everything--for the education of their children. This great falling away from their faith, of fathers and mothers, is the universal source of the superficial character of our means of education.... 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 therein. 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 masters of education in the world to teach him” (1: p. 716).

Then, where lies the source of the peculiar educative power of the home? We have seen before that the art of education consists in ministering an intelligent, loving help to the natural unfolding of the child’s powers. But this term “loving help” is really too weak, prosaic, and conventionalized to express its deep meaning. It is more than mere kindness, mere effort of good will, or sentimental affection that is meant. It is giving one’s whole self, giving one’s essence over into another’s to be absorbed there, and to become a new power. To use Pestalozzi’s own metaphor, it is like the sun whose light and warmth silently penetrate to the soil, and in whose light and warmth the plants grow, bud, and blossom, unconscious of its influence. This kind of loving help can the mother alone supply to her own children, by virtue of the natural endowment of a maternal heart, “the most gentle and the most intrepid power in the whole system of Nature” (1: p. 735).

Love is understanding: a dutiful mother will easily “learn to distinguish and direct each faculty before it appears in a state of development sufficient to evidence its own existence” (1: p. 736)--the principal qualification for an educator. Love is _educative_ in the etymological sense of the word: it brings out what there is in the child into self-expression. A loving mother is able “to open children’s hearts, and their mouths, and to draw forth their understandings, as it were, from the hindermost corner” (1: p. 667)--the true tact of education. Pestalozzi compares the method of the ordinary schoolmaster with what he believes to be the method of maternal instinct in the following words:

“The teacher starts usually from objects, you from the child himself. The teacher connects his instruction with what he knows, in order to teach the child; you know in the presence of your child nothing else than himself and connect everything with his instincts and impulses. The teacher has a form of instruction to which he subjects the child; you subject your course of instruction to the child and surrender it to him, when you teach, as you surrender yourself to him. With the teacher, everything comes from the understanding, with you all gushes out from the fullness of heart. The child is childlike toward you, because you behave motherlike toward him; the more you are motherlike, the more childlike he is” (16: x, p. 145).

Pestalozzi expresses his righteous indignation toward the schoolmaster’s fondness for the everlasting disciplining, drilling, mechanism, which only thwart the natural free development of tender minds.

“The schoolmaster seems as if he were made on purpose to shut up children’s mouths and hearts, and to bury their good understanding 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, or of conceited parish officers; stupid dunces, who have no pleasure with other children; these are the bright ornaments of schoolrooms, who hold up their heads among the other children like the wooden king in the nine-pins 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 discourses 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 goats who care not for their everlasting salvation” (1: p. 667).

Yet, a greater, nay the greatest thing that the maternal love, and it alone, can accomplish is to sow the living seed of moral sentiments, to lay the solid basis of character, in the soul of the child. He says:

“The only sure foundation upon which we must build, for institutions, for popular education, national culture, and the elevation of 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” (1: p. 715).

For “the child at his mother’s breast is already receiving the first impressions of love and gratitude”; and there is moral instruction in the morsel of bread he receives from his father’s hand. According to Pestalozzi, “morality is nothing but a result of the development in the child of these first sentiments of love and gratitude” (4: p. 92).

Another advantage of the home is the education which children get from their participation in the domestic occupation of their parents.

“For this work is necessarily what the parents understand best, what most absorbs their attention, and what they are most competent to teach. But even if this were not so, work undertaken to supply real needs would be just as truly the surest foundation of a good education” (4: p. 92).

Again:

“To engage the attention of the child, to exercise his judgment, to open his heart to noble sentiments, is, I think, the chief end of education; and how can this end be reached so surely as by training the child as early as possible in the various daily duties of domestic life?” (4: p. 92).

Industry in the factory or school does not provide the continuous and manifold changes of work, the motivation from the real needs of life which the child shares with the rest of the family, the stimulus of parental love, and the impulsion from the child’s own filial feeling, which home occupation does.

Moreover, home presents real human life in its closest relations to the child, so that he naturally and unconsciously learns its facts and laws. Human relations are again more natural, true, and perfect in the home than anywhere else; thus the child can develop his human qualities here better than anywhere else. Therefore, “as a general rule, art and books would not replace it in any way. The best story, the most touching picture the child finds in a book, is but a sort of dream for him, something unreal, and in a sense untrue; whereas what takes place before his eyes, in his own house, is associated with a thousand similar occurrences, with all his own experience as well as that of his parents and neighbours, and brings him without fail to a true knowledge of men, and develops in him a thoroughly observant mind” (4: p. 93).

Lastly, home is in itself a completed whole, a microcosmos of the larger social life, while school or the factory is not. Home is the only place where the child can live a real, organic life. And we can find a true unity and harmony, which is dynamic and progressive only in an organic life. Therefore, “it is only in the holiness of home that the equal development of all the human faculties can be directed, managed, and assured; and it is from this point that educational efforts must be conducted, if education, as a national affair, is to have a real reference to the wants of the people, and is to cause, by its influence, the coinciding of external human knowledge, power, and motives with the internal, everlasting, divine essence of our nature” (1: p. 715).

This, then, is the war cry of Pestalozzian reform: the education of the child for the home, in the home, through the home, and by the home. The child should be educated to be a dutiful and efficient member of the family, or he cannot become a dutiful and efficient member of society.

Social reform must begin with the reconstruction of the home life of the people. Not “go back to Nature!” but “go back to the home!” Not to build a new society on the absolutely free, independent, _natural man_, but on the work-loving, man-loving, God-loving, unsophisticatedly developed, social man, or rather _home man_. For Pestalozzi, the only hope for the elevation of all mankind was in the regeneration of the home and perfection of home education. His idea of elementary education started from this view. “Leonard and Gertrude” was written as an appeal to parents, to awaken them to the sense of the most sacred duty intrusted to them and of the grandest privilege given to them. “How Gertrude Taught Her Children” was to be a guide to mothers for instructing their children at home. His method of elementary instruction was to provide the simplest and easiest way of teaching available to every mother. Lastly, in the “Swan Song” he formulated the principles by which home education should follow or assist the course of natural development of the child. In this, one of his last writings, he says: “At first I desired nothing else, but merely sought to render the ordinary means of instruction for the people so simple as to permit of their being employed in every family” (4: p. 375). But while he was experimenting, in the education of those destitute and neglected children, to whom he was a “father” rather than a master, the ardent necessity of school reform at large was impressed upon him.

“Everywhere the course pursued was in direct opposition to that of Nature, everywhere the flesh predominated over the spirit, and the divine element was ignored; everywhere selfishness and the passions were made the motives of actions, and everywhere mechanical habits took the place of intelligent spontaneity” (4: p. 377).

The basic principle upon which he wanted every educator to work was: “Endeavour, first to broaden your children’s sympathies, and, by satisfying their daily needs, to bring love and kindness into such unceasing contact with their impressions and activity, that these sentiments may be engrafted in their hearts; then try to give them such judgment and tact as will enable them to make a wise, sure, and abundant use of these virtues in the circle which surrounds them” (4: p. 157). This is, according to his insight, the principle of parental education unconsciously going on in the home, and the school must be a copy of the home in its spirit and method, if it is at all to have a real and vital influence upon the child.

Pestalozzi traces in the “Swan Song” how the seeds of love, of confidence, of gratitude, of brotherly feeling, of patience, of obedience, and of the sense of duty unfolds in the heart of the child, through the tender and discreet care of the mother, and by means of family intercourse. He also shows how, out of these instinctive domestic affections, religious sentiments are born in the human soul. “It is life that educates,” and this is life’s method of moral culture.

“On the intellectual side, it is again life that educates; for life develops, in turn, the power of receiving impressions, the power of speaking, and the power of thinking.” Let us see how these are developed. “The power of receiving impressions by observations and experience furnishes the child with ideas and sentiments” (4: p. 378). This power, which Pestalozzi calls “_Anschauung_,” is the starting-point of all intellectual activities. “These impressions excite and animate in the mind its inherent principle of self-development.” Therefore, “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,” which is “an extension of the power thought” (1: p. 739). The desire and capacity for speech is parallel to the development of vocal organs and acquirements of knowledge through perception. “The power to speak does not proceed from the knowledge of language, it is rather the knowledge of language which proceeds from the power to speak.” Language is a vital mental power only when it has grown out of the child’s own life. But forcing the language from outside upon the child “neither develops the powers of the mind nor produces anything but an empty verbiage” (4: pp. 378-379). Nevertheless, “Art ... 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.” For instance, “the mother must allow the charms of seeing, hearing, feeling, and tasting to have full play in the child. These sense impressions will awaken the desire to give them expression, that is, to speak. The mother continually varies 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” (1: pp. 739-740). In this way the vocal organs are to be trained, a good command of words is to be given, and the power of expressing related ideas to be cultivated.

“Now when a child’s sense impressions have resulted in clear and settled ideas, when he can express these ideas in speech, he feels the need of examining, separating, and comparing them; this is a pleasure to which life itself invites him, and in which he finds the surest aid for the development of his judgment and power of thinking.” Education at all times has aimed to encourage, facilitate, and strengthen this development. Yet it has failed miserably, because “it has paid little heed to the laws of Nature and of life.” Pestalozzi condemns the usual method of “putting before the child a mass of ready-made judgments that his memory alone has been able to grasp, and which, instead of strengthening his thought, have allowed it to wither in inactivity.” He also makes light of logic, which, to his conception, is “a system, more subtle than clear, of the eternal rules which regulate human thought; rules, however, which are but a closed book for the child who does not yet possess the power of thinking” (4: p. 379). What he himself proposes as the best gymnastics for the child’s thinking power is what he calls exercises in number and form. As singing is introduced for the training of the speech faculty, arithmetic, geometry, drawing, writing are introduced for the training of the power of thought. “But,” he says, “if the study of number and form is to have any real educational value, it must consist not in shortened, mechanical methods, but in a series of exercises so well graduated that the child may take pleasure in the study, and succeed in it; that his thinking powers may be always active; that his judgments may be really his own, and that all he does must be closely connected with his real life” (4: pp. 379-380). Thus, to summarize, language (including sounds, words, connected ideas), number, and form are to be the three essential means of intellectual culture, or the three fundamental elements of mental upbuilding, and “it is the business of education to present these elements to the child’s mind in the simplest possible manner, and in psychological and progressive order.”

In regard to manual skill, again, “it is in the conditions and needs of actual life, and in the heart of the family, that the child must first learn how to use and improve his powers” (4: p. 380). The work, when separated from life, is a mere mechanism. Therefore, “the exercises intended to develop the industrial and artistic powers must also be determined by the general circumstances of the child’s life” (4: p. 380). The principle of elementary education applies to the manual powers as well as to the mental and moral: “It encourages the child’s activity from the very first; it leads him to produce results which are really his own, and it gives him at the same time both the power and the will to rise without slavishly copying others” (4: p. 380). Further, for industrial skill “to be completely useful, it must be the outcome of the harmonious development of heart, mind, and body” (4: p. 374). For, what is skill but “the facile and artful expression of what is conceived in the mind?” And without perfection of heart, “the highest development of intellect, art, or industry brings no rest, but leaves the man full of trouble, uneasiness, and discontent” (4: p. 375). Therefore, to bring about the subordination of the physical powers to the moral and intellectual powers is the essential work of education. This due subordination of the lower to the higher elements of human nature, in which the harmony of life consists, is naturally found in “a well-regulated and industrious family life.” So here, again, the school must learn from the home.

Pestalozzi’s exaltation of home education is certainly a great rebellion against scholastic and academic training. No less revolutionary is his advocacy of industrial education as the only real education for the mass of people. Hitherto, education was conceived from the standpoint of aristocracy, or purely from the abstract ideal of perfected man in a perfected society. But now “the fatherland must learn to educate her poor as the poor” (16: xii, p. 513). The child of poverty should not be educated to an unpractical and unhappy man who cannot fulfil the task or duty which his particular circumstances and position require of him. First, “he must learn to know, handle, and use those things on which his bread and his quiet will depend through life” (1: p. 666). To give the power to support himself and his family is the first remedy for the misery and slavery of the poor: “He is without rights, because he has no gain,” and “the poor man is poor mostly because he is not trained to earn his wants” (16: iii, p. 247). So the first school which he established at Neuhof was intended to be an industrial school, embracing agriculture, manufacture, and commerce. This ended in financial ruin before his plan was fully executed, but he reflects in his later life upon this school as if it were a lost child, and says: “It is true that, with all the experience of after-life, I have found but little reason to modify the views I then entertained” (1: p. 671).

Comenius and Locke both introduced manual work into their curriculum, but without intending that it should be of much practical use in later life. Neither did Basedow emphasize the vocational aspect. Locke, indeed, had an unrealized plan for establishing a “working school” for the poor. Still, it was to be nothing more than the combination of a common workshop and a day nursery. We owe to Pestalozzi the first definite conception of an industrial education and its noble philosophy.

The first aim of an industrial education is of course vocational: the inculcation of skill in productive labor. But it is more than this: it is the mental and moral culture as well. Racially and individually, industrial labor is “the true and holy and eternal means of combining the whole range of our powers into one common power, the power of manhood.” It compels our mind to “an unbroken attention, carefulness, and deliberateness--the fundamental educational basis of all thinking”; it necessitates in us the belief in the truth and immutability of natural laws. So he proclaims: “It is the essence of the true art of human education to transform various works and branches of industry into the means of human culture” (16: x, p. 357), and “for the laboring man, the sufficient and efficient cultivation of his senses and limbs to the service of all of what constitutes the blessings of his life, is the stepladder, by which he is called to climb up to the right thinking that would make him happy in his positions and relations.” This, then, is the other great Pestalozzian motto: Education through and for work.

Of the tributes paid to the merits of Pestalozzi there is no end, and rightly so. Karl Schneider testifies that “not only a new form was introduced by him into the school instruction of Germany, but that her people have come to look upon the work of education as a national affair is due to him and his disciples” (25: p. 59). But his influence extends far beyond his fatherland and his adopted country. And through all the civilized world “the ideas which he set forth are now through pain and struggle endeavoring to get themselves realized” (22: p. 58). If Comenius gave us the universal school in form, Pestalozzi put the soul into it. Locke was the pedagogue of the gentlemen, Basedow of the bourgeois. But Pestalozzi, as Harnisch well said, was “a people’s pedagogue, a people’s prophet” (27: p. 42), and “with a higher light in the head and more warmth in the heart than the world was wont to have” proclaimed the education of the masses for the masses. Truly, as Fichte said, “his love was so blessed to him that he found more than he sought” (26: p. 245). In trying to save the poor, neglected mass of his country he gave the world “the only remedy for the entire body of humanity”--the spirit and principles of vitalized and vitalizing, of humanized and humanizing education.

REFERENCES

1. +Barnard, Henry.+ Pestalozzi and His Educational System. Bardeen, Syracuse, N. Y., 1906. 751 pages.

2. +Boardman, J. H.+ Educational Ideas of Froebel and Pestalozzi. Second edition. Normal Press, London, 190-. 76 pages. (Normal Tutorial Series.)

3. +Compayré, Jules Gabriel.+ History of Pedagogy. Translated, with an introduction, notes, and an index, by W. H. Payne. Heath & Co., Boston, 1903. 598 pages.

4. +Guimps, Roger Baron de.+ Pestalozzi, His Life and Work. Translated by J. Russell. Appleton, New York, 1890. 438 pages. (International Education Series.)

5. +Heim, ----.+ Die soziale Anschauungen Pestalozzi’s. Agentur des Rauhen Hauses, Hamburg, 1896. 22 pages.

6. +Heman, Friedrich.+ Geschichte der neueren Pädagogik. Zickfeldt, Osterwieck, 1904. 436 pages.

7. +Hérisson, F.+ Pestalozzi, Élève de J. J. Rousseau. Delagrave, Paris, 1886. 246 pages.

8. +Hoffmeister, Hermann Wilhelm.+ Comenius und Pestalozzi als Begründer der Volkschule. Second edition. Klinkhardt, Leipzig, 1896. 97 pages.

9. +Mann, T.+ Die soziale Grundlage von Pestalozzi’s Pädagogik. Beyer, Langensalza, 1896. 18 pages.

10. +Melchers, Karl.+ Comenius und Pestalozzi, ein vergleichende Betrachtung ihrer pädagogischen Grundideen. Schmidt, Bremen, 1896. 47 pages.

11. +Monroe, Paul.+ A Text-book in the History of Education. Macmillan Co., London and New York, 1907. 772 pages.

12. +Monroe, William Seymour.+ History of the Pestalozzian Movement in the United States. Bardeen, Syracuse, N. Y., 1907. 244 pages.

13. +Munroe, James Phinney.+ The Educational Ideal: an Outline of its Growth in Modern Times. Heath & Co., Boston, 1896. 262 pages.

14. +Natrop, Paul.+ Pestalozzi’s Ideen über Arbeiterbildung und soziale Frage. Salzer, Heilbronn, 1894. 34 pages.

15. ---- Herbart, Pestalozzi und die heutigen Aufgaben der Erziehungslehre. Frommann, Stuttgart, 1899. 151 pages.

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17. ---- Leonard and Gertrude. Translated and abridged by Eva Channing. Heath & Co., Boston, 1889. 181 pages.

18. +Pinloche, Joachim Auguste.+ Pestalozzi and the Foundation of the Modern Elementary School. Scribner, New York, 1901. 306 pages.

19. +Quick, Robert Hebert.+ Essays on Educational Reformers. Appleton, New York, 1890. 560 pages. Same. (International Education Series), 1903. 568 pages.

20. +Raumer, Karl von.+ Geschichte der Pädagogik vom Wiederaufblühen klassischer Studien bis auf unsere Zeit. 5 vols. Bertelsmann, Gütersloh, 1882-1897.

21. +Rein, Georg Wilhelm+, editor. Encyklopädisches Handbuch der Pädagogik. 8 vols. Beyer, Langensalza, 1895-1906. Vol. V.

22. +Reinhardt, A. J.+ Outline of the History of Education. Kellogg, New York, 1891. 77 pages.

23. +Scherer, Heinrich.+ Die Pädagogik in ihrer Entwicklung im Zusammenhange mit dem Kultur- und Geistesleben und ihrem Einfluss auf die Gestaltung des Erziehungs- und Bildungswesens. Vol. II. Die Pädagogik als Wissenschaft von Pestalozzi bis zur Gegenwart. 3 parts. Brandstetter, Leipzig, 1897-1908.

24. +Schmid, Karl Adolf+, editor. Geschichte der Erziehung vom Anfang an bis auf unsere Zeit. 5 vols. Cotta, Stuttgart, 1884-1902. Vol. IV, Part II.

25. +Schneider, Karl.+ Rousseau und Pestalozzi; der Idealismus auf deutschen und auf französischen Boden. Fifth edition. Gärtner, Berlin, 1895. 63 pages.

26. +Seyffarth, L. W.+ J. H. Pestalozzi, nach seinem Leben und aus seinen Schriften dargestellt. Eighth edition. Siegismund, Leipzig, 1904. 254 pages.

27. ---- Pestalozzi, in seiner weltgeschichtlichen Bedeutung. C. Seyffarth; Liegnitz, 1896. 59 pages.

28. +Spielmann, C.+ Christian. Die Meister der Pädagogik nach ihren Leben, ihren Werken und ihrer Bedeutung. Heufer, Neuwied, 1904-1905. 356 pages. Part V.

29. +Wiget, Theobald.+ Pestalozzi und Herbart. Bleyl, Dresden, 1891. 140 pages.

30. +Ziegler, Theobald.+ Geschichte der Pädagogik mit besonderer Rücksicht auf das höhere Unterrichtswesen. Beck, München, 1895. 361 pages.