poor children home at night; these children generally came
back the next day covered with vermin. Most of them on their
arrival were very degenerated specimens of humanity. Many of
them had a sort of chronic skin-disease, which almost prevented
their walking, or sores on their heads, or rags full of vermin;
many were almost skeletons, with haggard, careworn faces, and
shrinking looks; some brazen, accustomed to begging, hypocrisy,
and all sorts of deceit; others broken by misfortune, patient,
suspicious, timid, and entirely devoid of affection. There were
also some spoilt children amongst them who had known the sweets
of comfort, and were therefore full of pretensions. These kept
to themselves, affected to despise the little beggars their
comrades, and to suffer from this equality, and seemed to find
it impossible to adapt themselves to the ways of the house,
which differed too much from their old habits. But what was
common to them all was a persistent idleness, resulting from
their want of physical and mental activity. Out of every ten
children there was hardly one who knew his A B C; as for any
other knowledge, it was, of course, out of the question.
“The entire absence of school learning was what troubled me
least, for I trusted in the natural powers that God bestows on
even the poorest and most neglected children. I had observed
for a long time that behind their coarseness, shyness, and
apparent incapacity, are hidden the finest faculties, the most
precious powers; and now, even amongst these poor creatures by
whom I was surrounded at Stanz, marked natural abilities soon
began to show themselves. I knew how useful the common needs of
life are in teaching men the relations of things, in bringing
out their natural intelligence, in forming their judgment, and
in arousing faculties which, buried, as it were, beneath the
coarser elements of their nature, cannot become active and
useful till they are set free. It was my object then to set
free these faculties, and bring them to bear on the pure and
simple circumstances of domestic life, for I was convinced this
was all that was wanting, and these natural faculties would
shew themselves capable of raising the hearts and minds of my
pupils to all that I could desire.
“I saw then how my wishes might be carried out; and I was
persuaded that my affection would change the state of my
children just as quickly as the spring sun would awake to new
life the earth that winter had benumbed. I was not deceiving
myself: before the spring sun melted the snow of our mountains
my children were hardly to be recognised.
“But I must not anticipate. Just as in the evening I often mark
the quick growth of the gourd by the side of the house, so I
want you to mark the growth of my plant; and, my friend, I
will not hide from you the worm which sometimes fastens on the
leaves, sometimes even on the heart.
“I opened the establishment with no other helper but a
woman-servant. I had not only to teach the children, but to
look after their physical needs. I preferred being alone, and,
unfortunately, it was the only way to reach my end. No one
in the world would have cared to enter into my views for the
education of children, and at that time I knew scarcely any one
even capable of it.
“In proportion as the men whom I might have called to my aid
were highly educated just so far they failed to understand
me, and were incapable of confining themselves even in theory
to the simple starting-points which I sought to come back to.
All their views about the organisation and requirements of the
enterprise differed entirely from mine. What they specially
objected to was the notion that the enterprise might be carried
out without the aid of any artificial means, and simply by the
influence of nature in the environment of the children, and by
the activity aroused in them by the needs of their daily life.
“And yet it was precisely upon this idea that I based all my
hope of success; it was, as it were, a basis for innumerable
other points of view.
“Experienced teachers, then, could not help me; still less
boorish, ignorant men. I had nothing to put into the hands of
assistants to guide them, nor any results or apparatus by which
I could make my ideas clearer to them. Thus, whether I would
or no, I had first to make my experiment alone, and collect
facts to illustrate the essential features of my system before
I could venture to look for outside help. Indeed, in my then
position, nobody could help me. I knew that I must help myself
and shaped my plans accordingly.
“I wanted to prove by my experiment that if public education
is to have any real value for humanity, it must imitate the
means which make the merit of domestic education; for it
is my opinion that if school teaching does not take into
consideration the circumstances of family life, and everything
else that bears on a man’s general education, it can only lead
to an artificial and methodical dwarfing of humanity.
“In any good education, the mother must be able to judge
daily, nay hourly, from the child’s eyes, lips, and face, of
the slightest change in his soul. The power of the educator,
too, must be that of a father, quickened by the general
circumstances of domestic life.
“Such was the foundation upon which I built. I determined that
there should not be a minute in the day when my children should
not be aware from my face and my lips that my heart was theirs,
that their happiness was my happiness, and their pleasures my
pleasures.
“Man readily accepts what is good, and the child readily
listens to it; but it is not for you that he wants it, master
and educator, but for himself. The good to which you would lead
him must not depend on your capricious humour or passion; it
must be a good which is good in itself and by the nature of
things, and which the child can recognize as good. He must feel
the necessity of your will in things which concern his comfort
before he can be expected to obey it.
“Whatever he does gladly, whatever gains him credit, whatever
tends to accomplish his great hopes, whatever awakens his
powers and enables him truly to say _I can_, all this he
_wills_.
“But this will is not aroused by words; it is aroused only by a
kind of complete culture which gives feelings and powers. Words
do not give the thing itself, but only an expression, a clear
picture, of the thing which we already have in our minds.
“Before all things I was bound to gain the confidence and the
love of the children. I was sure that if I succeeded in this
all the rest would come of itself. Friend, only think how I
was placed, and how great were the prejudices of the people
and of the children themselves, and you will comprehend what
difficulties I had to overcome.”
After narrating what we already know he goes on:
“Think, my friend, of this temper of the people, of my
weakness, of my poor appearance, of the ill-will to which I
was almost publicly exposed, and then judge how much I had to
endure for the sake of carrying on my work.
“And yet, however painful this want of help and support was to
me, it was favourable to the success of my undertaking, for it
compelled me to be always everything for my children. I was
alone with them from morning till night. It was from me that
they received all that could do them good, soul and body. All
needful help, consolation, and instruction they received direct
from me. Their hands were in mine, my eyes were fixed on theirs.
“We wept and smiled together. They forgot the world and Stanz;
they only knew that they were with me and I with them. We
shared our food and drink. I had about me neither family,
friends, nor servants; nothing but them. I was with them in
sickness, and in health, and when they slept. I was the last
to go to bed, and the first to get up. In the bedroom I prayed
with them, and, at their own request, taught them till they
fell asleep. Their clothes and bodies were intolerably filthy,
but I looked after both myself, and was thus constantly exposed
to the risk of contagion.
“This is how it was that these children gradually became so
attached to me, some indeed so deeply that they contradicted
their parents and friends when they heard evil things said
about me. They felt that I was being treated unfairly, and
loved me, I think, the more for it. But of what avail is it for
the young nestlings to love their mother when the bird of prey
that is bent on destroying them is constantly hovering near?
“However, the first results of these principles and of this
line of action were not always satisfactory, nor, indeed, could
they be so. The children did not always understand my love.
Accustomed to idleness, unbounded liberty, and the fortuitous
and lawless pleasures of an almost wild life, they had come
to the convent in the expectation of being well fed, and of
having nothing to do. Some of them soon discovered that they
had been there long enough, and wanted to go away again; they
talked of the school fever that attacks children when they are
kept employed all day long. This dissatisfaction, which showed
itself during the first months, resulted principally from the
fact that many of them were ill, the consequence either of the
sudden change of diet and habits, or of the severity of the
weather and the dampness of the building in which we lived. We
all coughed a great deal, and several children were seized with
a peculiar sort of fever. This fever, which always began with
sickness, was very general in the district. Cases of sickness,
however, not followed by fever, were not at all rare, and were
an almost natural consequence of the change of food. Many
people attributed the fever to bad food, but the facts soon
showed them to be wrong, for not a single child succumbed.
“On the return of spring it was evident to everybody that the
children were all doing well, growing rapidly, and gaining
colour. Certain magistrates and ecclesiastics, who saw them
some time afterwards, stated that they had improved almost
beyond recognition....
“Months passed before I had the satisfaction of having my hand
grasped by a single grateful parent. But the children were won
over much sooner. They even wept sometimes when their parents
met me or left me without a word of salutation. Many of them
were perfectly happy, and used to say to their mothers: ‘I am
better here than at home.’ At home, indeed, as they readily
told me when we talked alone, they had been ill-used and
beaten, and had often had neither bread to eat nor bed to lie
down upon. And yet these same children would sometimes go off
with their mothers the very next morning.
“A good many others, however, soon saw that by staying with me
they might both learn something and become something, and these
never failed in their zeal and attachment. Before very long
their conduct was imitated by others who had not altogether the
same feelings.
“Those who ran away were the worst in character and the least
capable. But they were not incited to go till they were free of
their vermin and their rags. Several were sent to me with no
other purpose than that of being taken away again as soon as
they were clean and well clothed.
“But after a time their better judgment overcame the defiant
hostility with which they arrived. In 1799[156] I had nearly
eighty children. Most of them were bright and intelligent, some
even remarkably so.
“For most of them study was something entirely new. As soon as
they found that they could learn, their zeal was indefatigable,
and in a few weeks children who had never before opened a
book, and could hardly repeat a _Pater Noster_ or an _Ave_,
would study the whole day long with the keenest interest. Even
after supper, when I used to say to them, ‘Children, will you
go to bed, or learn something?’ they would generally answer,
especially in the first month or two, ‘Learn something.’ It is
true that afterwards, when they had to get up very early, it
was not quite the same.
“But this first eagerness did much towards starting the
establishment on the right lines, and making the studies the
success they ultimately were, a success indeed, which far
surpassed my expectations. And yet great beyond expression were
my difficulties. I did not as yet find it possible to organise
the studies properly.
“Neither my trust nor my zeal had been able to overcome either
the intractability of individuals or the want of coherence in
the whole experiment. The general order of the establishment, I
felt, must be based upon order of a higher character. As this
higher order did not yet exist, I had to attempt to create
it; for without this foundation I could not hope to organise
properly either the teaching or the general management of the
place, nor should I have wished to do so. I wanted everything
to result not from a preconceived plan, but from my relations
with the children. The high principles and educating forces I
was seeking, I looked for from the harmonious common life of
my children, from their common attention, activity, and needs.
It was not, then, from any external organisation that I looked
for the regeneration of which they stood so much in need. If I
had employed constraint, regulations, and lectures, I should,
instead of winning and ennobling my children’s hearts, have
repelled them and made them bitter, and thus been farther than
ever from my aim. First of all, I had to arouse in them pure,
moral, and noble feelings, so that afterwards, in external
things, I might be sure of their ready attention, activity, and
obedience. I had, in short, to follow the high precept of Jesus
Christ, ‘Cleanse first that which is within, that the outside
may be clean also; and if ever the truth of this precept was
made manifest, it was made manifest then.
“My one aim was to make their new life in common, and their new
powers, awaken a feeling of brotherhood amongst the children,
and make them affectionate, just, and considerate.
“I was successful in gaining my aims. Amongst these seventy
wild beggar-children there soon existed such peace, friendship,
and cordial relations as are rare even between actual brothers
and sisters.
“The principle to which I endeavoured to conform all my conduct
was as follows: 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 their 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. In the last
place, do not hesitate to touch on the difficult questions of
good and evil, and the words connected with them. And you must
do this especially in connection with the ordinary events of
every day, upon which your whole teaching in these matters must
be founded, so that the children may be reminded of their own
feelings, and supplied, as it were, with solid facts upon which
to base their conception of the beauty and justice of the moral
life. Even though you should have to spend whole nights in
trying to express in two words what others say in twenty, never
regret the loss of sleep.
“I gave my children very few explanations; I taught them
neither morality nor religion. But sometimes, when they were
perfectly quiet, I used to say to them, ‘Do you not think that
you are better and more reasonable when you are like this than
when you are making a noise?’ When they clung round my neck and
called me their father, I used to say, ‘My children, would it
be right to deceive your father? After kissing me like this,
would you like to do anything behind my back to vex me?’ When
our talk turned on the misery of the country, and they were
feeling glad at the thought of their own happier lot, I would
say, ‘How good God is to have given man a compassionate heart!’
... They perfectly understood that all they did was but a
preparation for their future activity, and they looked forward
to happiness as the certain result of their perseverance. That
is why steady application soon became easy to them, its object
being in perfect accordance with their wishes and their hopes.
Virtue, my friend, is developed by this agreement, just as
the young plant thrives when the soil suits its nature, and
supplies the needs of its tender shoots.
“I witnessed the growth of an inward strength in my children,
which, in its general development, far surpassed my
expectations, and in its particular manifestations not only
often surprised me, but touched me deeply.
“When the neighbouring town of Altdorf was burnt down, I
gathered the children round me, and said, ‘Altdorf has been
burnt down; perhaps, at this very moment, there are a hundred
children there without home, food, or clothes; will you not ask
our good Government to let twenty of them come and live with
us?’ I still seem to see the emotion with which they answered,
‘Oh, yes, yes!’ ‘But, my children,’ I said, ‘think well of what
you are asking! Even now we have scarcely money enough, and it
is not at all certain that if these poor children came to us,
the Government would give us any more than they do at present,
so that you might have to work harder, and share your clothes
with these children, and sometimes perhaps go without food. Do
not say, then, that you would like them to come unless you are
quite prepared for all these consequences.’ After having spoken
to them in this way as seriously as I could, I made them repeat
all I had said, to be quite sure that they had thoroughly
understood what the consequences of their request would be. But
they were not in the least shaken in their decision, and all
repeated, ‘Yes, yes, we are quite ready to work harder, eat
less, and share our clothes, for we want them to come.’
“Some refugees from the Grisons having given me a few crowns
for my poor children, I at once called them and said, ‘These
men are obliged to leave their country; they hardly know
where they will find a home to-morrow, yet, in spite of their
trouble, they have given me this for you. Come and thank them.’
And the emotion of the children brought tears to the eyes of
the refugees.
“It was in this way that I strove to awaken the feeling of each
virtue before talking about it, for I thought it unwise to
talk to children on subjects which would compel them to speak
without thoroughly understanding what they were saying.
“I followed up this awakening of the sentiments by exercises
intended to teach the children self-control, so that all that
was good in them might be applied to the practical questions of
every-day life.
“It will easily be understood that, in this respect, it was
not possible to organise any system of discipline for the
establishment; that could only come slowly, as the general work
developed.
“Silence, as an aid to application, is perhaps the great secret
of such an institution. I found it very useful to insist
on silence when I was teaching, and also to pay particular
attention to the attitude of my children. I succeeded so well
that the moment I asked for silence, I could teach in quite a
low voice. The children repeated my words all together; and as
there was no other sound, I was able to detect the slightest
mistakes of pronunciation. It is true that this was not always
so. Sometimes, whilst they repeated sentences after me, I would
ask them as if in fun to keep their eyes fixed on their middle
fingers. It is hardly credible how useful simple things of this
sort sometimes are as means to the very highest ends.
“One young girl, for instance, who had been little better than
a savage, by keeping her head and body upright, and not looking
about, made more progress in her moral education than any one
would have believed possible.
“These experiences have shown me that the mere habit of
carrying oneself well does much more for the education of the
moral sentiments than any amount of teaching and lectures in
which this simple fact is ignored.
“Thanks to the application of these principles, my children
soon became more open, more contented and more susceptible to
every good and noble influence than any one could possibly
have foreseen when they first came to me, so utterly devoid
were they of ideas, good feelings, and moral principles. As a
matter of fact, this lack of previous instruction was not a
serious obstacle to me; indeed, it hardly troubled me at all.
I am inclined even to say that, in the simple method I was
following, it was often an advantage, for I had incomparably
less trouble to develop those children whose minds were still
blank, than those who had already acquired inaccurate ideas.
The former, too, were much more open than the latter to the
influence of all pure and simple sentiments.
“But when the children were obdurate and churlish, then I was
severe, and made use of corporal punishment.
“My dear friend, the pedagogical principle which says that
we must win the hearts and minds of our children by words
alone without having recourse to corporal punishment, is
certainly good, and applicable under favourable conditions and
circumstances; but with children of such widely different ages
as mine, children for the most part beggars, and all full of
deeply-rooted faults, a certain amount of corporal punishment
was inevitable, especially as I was anxious to arrive surely,
speedily, and by the simplest means, at gaining an influence
over them all, for the sake of putting them all in the right
road. I was compelled to punish them, but it would be a mistake
to suppose that I thereby, in any way, lost the confidence of
my pupils.
“It is not the rare and isolated actions that form the opinions
and feelings of children, but the impressions of every day and
every hour. From such impressions they judge whether we are
kindly disposed towards them or not, and this settles their
general attitude towards us. Their judgment of isolated actions
depends upon this general attitude.
“This is how it is that punishments inflicted by parents
rarely make a bad impression. But it is quite different with
schoolmasters and teachers who are not with their children
night and day, and have none of those relations with them which
result from life in common.
“My punishments never produced obstinacy; the children I
had beaten were quite satisfied if a moment afterwards I
gave them my hand and kissed them, and I could read in their
eyes that the final effect of my blows was really joy. The
following is a striking instance of the effect this sort of
punishment sometimes had. One day one of the children I liked
best, taking advantage of my affection, unjustly threatened
one of his companions. I was very indignant, and my hand did
not spare him. He seemed at first almost broken-hearted, and
cried bitterly for at least a quarter of an hour. When I had
gone out, however, he got up, and going to the boy he had
ill-treated, begged his pardon, and thanked him for having
spoken about his bad conduct. My friend, this was no comedy;
the child had never seen anything like it before.
“It was impossible that this sort of treatment should produce
a bad impression on my children, because all day long I was
giving them proofs of my affection and devotion. They could
not misread my heart, and so they did not misjudge my actions.
It was not the same with the parents, friends, strangers,
and teachers who visited us; but that was natural. But I
cared nothing for the opinion of the whole world, provided my
children understood me.
“I always did my best, therefore, to make them clearly
understand the motives of my actions in all matters likely to
excite their attention and interest. This, my friend, brings
me to the consideration of the moral means to be employed in a
truly domestic education.
“Elementary moral education, considered as a whole, includes
three distinct parts: the children’s moral sense must first
be aroused by their feelings being made active and pure; then
they must be exercised in self-control, so that they may give
themselves to that which is right and good; finally they
must be brought to form for themselves, by reflection and
comparison, a just notion of the moral rights and duties which
are theirs by reason of their position and surroundings.
“So far, I have pointed out some of the means I employed to
reach the first two of these ends. They were just as simple
for the third; for I still made use of the impressions and
experiences of their daily life to give my children a true and
exact idea of right and duty. When, for instance, they made
a noise, I appealed to their own judgment, and asked them if
it was possible to learn under such conditions. I shall never
forget how strong and true I generally found their sense of
justice and reason, and how this sense increased and, as it
were, established their good will.