reached Frankfurt. During my many weeks' journey in the lovely
springtime, my thoughts had had time to grow calm and collected. My
friend, too, was true to his word; and we at once set to work together
to prepare a prosperous future for me. The plan of seeking a situation
with an architect was still firmly held to, and circumstances seemed
favourable for its realisation; but my friend at last advised me to
secure a livelihood by giving lessons for a time, until we should find
something more definite than had yet appeared. Every prospect of a
speedy fulfilment of my wishes seemed to offer, and yet in proportion as
my hopes grew more clear, a certain feeling of oppression manifested
itself more and more within me. I soon began seriously to ask myself,
therefore:--
"How is this? Canst thou do work in architecture worthy of a man's life?
Canst thou use it to the culture and the ennoblement of mankind?"
I answered my own question to my satisfaction. Yet I could not conceal
from myself that it would be difficult to follow this profession
conformably with the ideal I had now set before me. Notwithstanding
this, I still remained faithful to my original scheme, and soon began to
study under an architect with a view to fitting myself for my new
profession.
My friend, unceasingly working towards the accomplishment of my views,
introduced me to a friend of his, Herr Gruner, the headmaster at that
time of the Frankfurt Model School,[39] which had not long been
established. Here I found open-minded young people who met me readily
and ingenuously, and our conversation soon ranged freely over life and
its many-sided aspects. My own life and its object were also brought
forward and talked over. I spoke openly, manifesting myself just as I
was, saying what I knew and what I did not know about myself.
"Oh," said Gruner, turning to me, "give up architecture; it is not your
vocation at all. Become a teacher. We want a teacher in our own school.
Say you agree, and the place shall be yours."
My friend was for accepting Gruner's proposal, and I began to hesitate.
Added to this, an external circumstance now came to my knowledge which
hastened my decision. I received the news namely, that the whole of my
testimonials, and particularly those that I had received in Jena, which
were amongst them, had been lost. They had been sent to a gentleman who
took a lively interest in my affairs, and I never found out through what
mischance they were lost. I now read this to mean that Providence itself
had thus broken up the bridge behind me, and cut off all return. I
deliberated no longer, but eagerly and joyfully seized the hand held out
to me, and quickly became a teacher in the Model School of
Frankfurt-on-the-Main.[40]
The watchword of teaching and of education was at this time the name of
PESTALOZZI. It soon became evident to me that Pestalozzi was to be the
watchword of my life also; for not only Gruner, but also a second
teacher at the school, were pupils of Pestalozzi, and the first-named
had even written a book on his method of teaching. The name had a
magnetic effect upon me, the more so as during my self-development and
self-education it had seemed to me an aspiration--a something perhaps
never to be familiarly known, yet distinct enough, and at all events
inspiriting. And now I recalled how in my early boyhood, in my father's
house, I had got a certain piece of news out of some newspaper or
another, or at least that is how the matter stood in my memory. I
gathered that in Switzerland a man of forty, who lived retired from the
world,--Pestalozzi by name,--had taught himself, alone and unaided,
reading, writing, and arithmetic. Just at that time I was feeling the
slowness and insufficiency of my own development, and this news quieted
me, and filled me with the hope and trust that I, too, might, through my
own endeavour, repair the deficiencies of my bringing-up. As I have
grown older I have also found it consolatory to remark how the culture
of vigorous, capable men has not seldom been acquired remarkably late in
life. And in general I must acknowledge it as part of the groundwork
underlying my life and the evolution of my character, that the
contemplation of the actual existences of real men always wrought upon
my soul, as it were, by a fruitful rain and the genial warmth of
sunshine; while the isolated truths these lives enshrined, the
principles those who lived them had thought out and embodied in some
phrase or another, fell as precious seed-corn, as it were, or as solvent
salt crystals upon my thirsty spirit. And while on this head I cannot
help especially calling to mind how deep and lasting was the impression
made upon me in my last year at school by the accounts in the Holy
Scriptures of the lives of earnestly striving youths and men. I mention
it here, but I shall have to return to the subject later on.[41]
Now to return to the new life which I had begun. It was only to be
expected that each thing and all things I heard of Pestalozzi seized
powerfully upon me; and this more especially applies to a sketchy
narrative of his life, his aims, and his struggles, which I found in a
literary newspaper, where also was stated Pestalozzi's well-known desire
and endeavour--namely, in some nook or corner of the world, no matter
where, to build up an institution for the education of the poor, after
his own heart. This narrative, especially the last point of it, was to
my heart like oil poured on fire. There and then the resolution was
taken to go and look upon this man who could so think and so endeavour
to act, and to study his life and its work.
Three days afterwards (it was towards the end of August 1805) I was
already on the road to Yverdon,[42] where Pestalozzi had not long before
established himself. Once arrived there, and having met with the
friendliest reception by Pestalozzi and his teachers, because of my
introductions from Gruner and his colleagues, I was taken, like every
other visitor, to the class-rooms, and there left more or less to my own
devices. I was still very inexperienced, both in the theory and practice
of teaching, relying chiefly in such things upon my memory of my own
school-time, and I was therefore very little fitted for a rigorous
examination into details of method and into the way they were connected
to form a whole system. The latter point, indeed, was neither clearly
thought out, nor was it worked out in practice. What I saw was to me at
once elevating and depressing, arousing and also bewildering. My visit
lasted only a fortnight. I worked away and tried to take in as much as I
could; especially as, to help me in the duties I had undertaken, I felt
impelled to give a faithful account in writing of my views on the whole
system, and the effect it had produced upon me. With this idea I tried
to hold fast in my memory all I heard. Nevertheless I soon felt that
heart and mind would alike come to grief in a man of my disposition if I
were to stay longer with Pestalozzi, much as I desired to do so. At that
time the life there was especially vigorous; internally and externally
it was a living, moving, stirring existence, for Prince Hardenberg,
commissioned by the Austrian Government, had come to examine thoroughly
into Pestalozzi's work.[43]
The fruits of my short stay with Pestalozzi were as follows:--
In the first place, I saw the whole training of a great educational
institution, worked upon a clear and firmly-settled plan of teaching. I
still possess the "teaching-plan" of Pestalozzi's institution in use at
that time. This teaching-plan contains, in my opinion, much that is
excellent, somewhat also that is prejudicial. Excellent, I thought, was
the contrivance of the so-called "exchange classes."[44] In each subject
the instruction was always given through the entire establishment at the
same time. Thus the subjects for teaching were settled for every class,
but the pupils were distributed amongst the various classes according to
their proficiency in the subject in hand, so that the whole body of
pupils was redistributed in quite a distinct division for each subject.
The advantage of this contrivance struck me as so undeniable and so
forcible that I have never since relinquished it in my educational work,
nor could I now bring myself to do so. The prejudicial side of the
teaching-plan, against which I intuitively rebelled, although my own
tendencies on the subject were as yet so vague and dim, lay, in my
opinion, in its incompleteness and its onesidedness. Several subjects of
teaching and education highly important to the all-round harmonious
development of a man seemed to me thrust far too much into the
background, treated in step-motherly fashion, and superficially worked
out.
The results of the arithmetical teaching astounded me, yet I could not
follow it into its larger applications and wider extent. The mechanical
rules of this branch of instruction seemed to whirl me round and round
as in a whirlpool. The teacher was Krüsi. The teaching, in spite of the
brilliant results within its own circle, and in spite of the sharpness
of the quickened powers of perception and comprehension in the children
by which it attained those results, yet, to my personal taste, had
something too positive in its setting forth, too mechanical in its
reception. And Josias Schmid[45] had already, even at that time, felt
the imperfection of this branch of instruction. He imparted to me the
first ground-principles of his later work on the subject, and his ideas
at once commanded my approval, for I saw they possessed two important
properties, manysidedness and an exhaustive scientific basis.
The teaching of drawing was also very incomplete, especially in its
first commencement; but drawing from right-angled prisms with equal
sides, in various lengths, which was one of the exercises required at a
later stage, and drawing other mathematical figures by means of which
the comprehension of the forms of actual objects of every-day life might
be facilitated were much more to my mind. Schmid's method of drawing had
not yet appeared.
In physical geography, the usual school course, with its many-coloured
maps, had been left far behind. Tobler, an active young man, was the
principal teacher in this section. Still, even this branch had far too
much positive instruction[46] for me. Particularly unpleasant to me was
the commencement of the course, which began with an account of the
bottom of the sea, although the pupils could have no conception of
their own as to its nature or dimensions. Nevertheless the teaching
aroused astonishment, and carried one involuntarily along with it
through the impression made by the lightning-quickness of the answers of
the children.
In natural history I heard only the botany. The principal teacher, who
had also prepared the plan of instruction in this subject for all the
school, was Hopf, like the rest an active young man. The school course
arranged and carried out by him had much that was excellent. In each
separate instance--for example, the shape and position of leaves,
flowers, etc.--he would first obtain all the possible varieties of form
by question and answer between the class and himself, and then he would
select from the results the form which was before them in nature. These
lessons, which were in this way made so attractive, and whose merits
spoke for themselves, showed, however, when it came to practical
application, an unpractical, I had almost said, a self-contradictory
aspect.
(When, afterwards, in 1808, I visited Yverdon for the second time, I
found to my regret neither Tobler nor Hopf there.)
With the method used for the German language I could not at all bring
myself into sympathy, although it has been introduced into later school
books elsewhere. Here also the arbitrary and non-productive style of
teaching ran strongly counter to me at every step.
Singing was taught from figures.[47] Reading was taught from
Pestalozzi's well-known "A.B.C."
[Memorandum.--All this lay dark within me, its value unrecognised even
by myself. But my intellectual position tended to become more settled by
passing through these experiences. As to my state at the time, I have,
as accurately as may be, described it above, as at once exalted and
depressed, animated and dull. That Pestalozzi himself was carried away
and bewildered by this great intellectual machine of his appears from
the fact that he could never give any definite account of his idea, his
plan, his intention. He always said, "Go and see for yourself" (very
good for him who knew _how_ to look, how to hear, how to perceive); "it
works splendidly!"[48] It was at that time, indeed, surprising and
inexplicable to me that Pestalozzi's loving character did not win every
one's heart as it won mine, and compel the staff of teachers to draw
together into a connected whole, penetrated with life and intellectual
strength in every part. His morning and evening addresses were deeply
touching in their simplicity; and yet I remarked in them even already at
that time some slight traces of the unhappy dissensions afterwards to
arise.[49]]
I left Yverdon in mid-October (1805) with a settled resolution to return
thither as soon as possible for a longer stay. As soon as I got back to
Frankfurt, I received my definite appointment from the Consistorium.[50]
The work that awaited me upon my arrival from Switzerland at the Model
School (which was, in fact, properly two schools, one for boys and one
for girls) was a share in the arrangement of an entirely new educational
course and teaching-plan for the whole establishment. The school
contained four or five classes of boys and two or three of girls;
altogether about two hundred children. The staff consisted of four
permanent masters and nine visiting masters.
As I threw myself heartily into the consideration of the necessities and
the present position of the school, and of the instruction given there,
the working out of this plan was left almost wholly in my hands, under
the conditions imposed upon us. The scheme I produced not only succeeded
in winning the approbation of the authorities, but proved itself during
a long period of service beneficial in the highest degree, both to the
institution itself and to its efficiency; notwithstanding that it put
the teachers to some considerable personal inconvenience, as well as
making larger claims upon their time than was usual.
The subjects of instruction which fell to my share were arithmetic,
drawing, physical geography, and German. I generally taught in the
middle classes. In a letter to my brother I spoke of the impression made
upon me by my first lesson to a class of thirty or forty boys ranging
from nine to eleven; it seemed as if I had found something I had never
known, but always longed for, always missed, as if my life had at last
discovered its native element. I felt as happy as the fish in the water,
the bird in the air.
But before I pursue this side of the development of my life I must touch
upon another which was far more important to the evolution of my
character as man, as teacher, and as educationist, and which, indeed,
soon absorbed the first within itself.
Not long after my old friend, to meet with whom I had come to Frankfurt,
had introduced me to Gruner, he went back himself to his work as private
tutor. Afterwards he heard of a family (in Frankfurt) desiring a private
tutor for the sons. Since he could not introduce me personally to this
family he did so by letter, and several weeks before my journey to
Yverdon he had, in fact, written to them about me in very kindly terms.
It was for three sons principally that instruction and education were
required. They came to see me, and after they had gone their personal
peculiarities and their previous teaching and training, with the
results, were fully described to me, and I was then consulted as to
their future education. Now to education as an object[51] I had in truth
never yet given a thought, and the question threw me into great
perplexity. Nevertheless it required an answer, and moreover a precise
answer.
In the life and circumstances of these lads I discovered frequent
similarities with my own boyhood, which sprang to my memory as I
listened. I could therefore answer the questions which were put to me
out of the development and educational experiences of my own life; and
my reply, torn as it was from actual life, keenly felt and vigorously
expressed, bore upon it the stamp of truth. It was satisfactory to the
parents; and education--development, which hitherto had been subjective
alone for me--that is, as self-development--now took an objective form,
a change which was distinctly painful to me. Long, long it was before I
could bring this business of education into a form expressible by words.
I only knew education, and I could only educate, through direct personal
association. This, then, I cultivated to the best of my power, following
the path whither my vocation and my life now called me.
To say truth, I had a silent inward reluctance towards private
tutorship. I felt the constant interruptions and the piece-meal nature
of the work inseparable from the conditions of the case, and hence I
suspected that it might want vitality; but the trusting indulgence with
which I was met, and especially the clear, bright, friendly glance which
greeted me from the two younger lads, decided me to undertake to give
the boys lessons for two hours a day, and to share their walks. The
actual teaching was to be in arithmetic and German. The first was soon
arranged. I simply followed Pestalozzi's course. But as to the language
I encountered great difficulties. I began by teaching it from the
regular school-books then used, and indeed still in use. I prepared
myself to the best of my ability for each lesson, and worked up whatever
I felt myself ignorant of in the most careful and diligent way. But the
mode of teaching employed in these books frustrated my efforts. I could
neither get on myself nor get my pupils on with it. So I began to take
for my method Pestalozzi's "Mothers' Book." In this way we went on much
better, but still I was not satisfied; and, indeed, I may say that for a
very long time no system of instruction in German did satisfy me.
In arithmetic, by using the "Tables of Units"[52] in Pestalozzi's
pamphlet, I arrived at the same results which I had seen in
Switzerland. Very often my pupils had the answer ready when the last
word of the question had scarcely been spoken. Yet I presently found out
some defects in this method of teaching, of which I shall speak later
on.[53]
When we were out walking together, I endeavoured to my utmost to
penetrate into the lives of the children, and so to influence them for
good. I lived my own early life over again, but in a happier way, for it
now lay clear and intelligible before me in its special as well as its
general characteristics.
All my thoughts and work were now directed to the subject of the culture
and education of man. This period of my life became full of zeal, of
active development, of advancing culture, and, in consequence, of
happiness. And my life in the Model School also, with my boys and with
my excellent colleagues, unusually clever men, was very elevating and
encouraging.
Owing to the position and surroundings of the school buildings, which,
though not apparently extensive as seen from the street, contained a
considerable courtyard and a spacious garden, the scholars enjoyed
perfect freedom of exercise, and could play just as they liked in
courtyard or garden; with the result, moreover, of thereby affording a
most important opportunity to the various teachers of becoming really
intimate with the characters of the boys they taught. And there grew up
out of all this a voluntary resolution on the part of the teachers that
every teacher should take his boys for a walk once a week. Each adopted
the method he liked best; some preferred to occupy the time of the walk
over a permanent subject; others preferred leaving the subject to
chance. I usually occupied my class with botanising; and also as
geographical master, I turned these occasions to profit by leading on my
boys to think for themselves and to apprehend the relations of various
parts of the earth's surface: on these and other perceptions gained in
this way I based my instruction in physiography, making them my point of
departure.
The town was at once my starting-place and my centre. From it I
extended our observations to the right and to the left, on this side and
on that. I took the river Main as a base line, just as it lay; or I used
the line of hills or the distant mountains. I settled firmly the
direction of the four quarters of the compass. In everything I followed
the leading of Nature herself, and with the data so obtained I worked
out a representation of the place from direct observation, and on a
reduced scale, in some level spot of ground or sandy tract carefully
chosen for the purpose. When my representation (or map) was thoroughly
understood and well impressed on every one's mind, then we reconstructed
it in school on a black board placed horizontally. The map was first
sketched by teachers and pupils between them, and then each pupil had to
do it by himself as an exercise. These representations of the earth's
surface of ours had a round contour, resembling the circular outline of
the visible horizon.
At the next public examination of the school, I was fortunate enough,
although this first attempt was full of imperfections, to win the
unanimous approval of the parents present; and not only that, but the
especial commendation of my superiors. Every one said, "That is how
physiography[54] should be taught. A boy must first learn all about his
home before he goes further afield." My boys were as well acquainted
with the surroundings of the town as with their own rooms at home; and
gave rapid and striking answers as to all the natural peculiarities of
the neighbourhood. This course was the fountain-head of the teaching
method which I afterwards thoroughly worked out, and which has now been
in use for many years.
In arithmetic I did not take the lower, but the middle classes; and here
also my teaching received cheering encomiums.
In drawing I also taught the middle classes. My method in this subject
was to work at the thorough comprehension and the representation of
planes and solids in outline, rising from the simplest forms to complex
combinations. I not only had the gratification of obtaining good
results, which thoroughly satisfied those who tested them, but also of
seeing my pupils work with pleasure, with ardour, and with
individuality. In the girls' school I had to teach orthography[55] in
one of the elementary classes. This lesson, ordinarily standing by
itself, disconnected with anything, I based upon correct
pronunciation.[56] The teaching was imperfect, certainly; but it
nevertheless gained an unmistakable charm for both teacher and pupils;
and, finally, its results were very satisfactory.
In one of the other classes of the girls' school I taught preparatory
drawing. I took this by combinations of single lines; but the method was
wanting in a logically necessary connection, so that it did not satisfy
me. I cannot remember whether the results of this teaching were brought
to the test or not.