The spirit which animated the brave old Swiss was not that of revenge, or plunder, or bloodshed. They fought simply when and because it was necessary to insure the liberty of their native land. It was a sense of duty rather than love of glory that strengthened and filled them with an invincible heroism and inspired them with the sentiment so often heard on the battle-field, Wir müssen unsere Pflicht thun (“we must do our duty”). The set of military regulations drawn up after the battle of Sempach, more than five hundred years ago, might furnish a model for to-day; a few taken at random will show their tenor:
1. Not to attack or injure any church or chapel unless the enemy have retired into it.
2. Not to insult any females.
3. It is forbidden to any man to straggle for the sake of plunder, or to appropriate to himself any part of the booty, which must all be reported and be divided equally in good faith.
4. Every Swiss engages to sacrifice his life or property, if required, for the defence of his countrymen.
5. No Swiss shall abandon his post even when wounded.
6. No Swiss shall take away anything from any of his countrymen either in peace or war.
War has been the great training school of hardihood, endurance, courage, self-sacrifice, and devotion to public duty. There is no profession more favorable to the growth of noble sentiment and manly action than that of the soldier; and to its beneficial action in the formation of States, every page of history bears flaming testimony. A great German professor declares: “Our army is not simply the organized power of the state; it is also a great school, nay, our greatest school for the masses, of intellectual culture, morals, politeness and patriotism.” Let the Swiss ever cherish and imitate the simple lives, the undaunted courage, the obstinate and enduring spirit, and the lofty patriotism of their ancestors who, in the great contests which rolled round the fort of their mountains, died on the fields of Morat and Morgarten.
CHAPTER XIII.
EDUCATION.
No inquiry can be more important than that which proposes to discover the legitimate purpose and the best course of general education. All men, how much soever they may be distinguished from each other by a variety of circumstances, connections, and pursuits, have yet one common set of duties to perform; and it is in forming this character, and imparting the ability to discharge these duties, that the business of what may be called, in the most general sense, a good education, properly consists. Such an education may, therefore, fitly be described to be that course of discipline which is accommodated to man, as he is man; which is to lay the firm foundation of excellence in future life; and by which it is designed to effect the highest preparatory culture of his whole nature. It happens, however, that the foundation of those virtues which are to render us useful and happy must be laid at a time when we are least willing to receive instruction,—when we are in search rather of amusement for our imagination than of employment for our reason. Aware of these difficulties, the instructors of mankind have been in all ages solicitous to discover popular and efficacious methods for their admonitions. Theories once embraced as judicious and complete are succeeded by others which, in turn, are declared as erroneous and defective. Plans at present deemed ill-concerted or impracticable are the same which it was once thought reasonable to adopt. Where government, national or state, insists upon having every child given over to it for the first and formative educational period, it assumes an infinite responsibility for the judicious and reasonable training of the young committed to its care. And they have, in turn, the right to conclude that the instruction given is that, of all others, which the wisdom and wit of the age have pronounced to be the most beneficial and important for them to receive. The system of education is proportionately more enlightened and liberal as the liberty of the subject is the basis and aim of the constitution. The interested caution of a despotic government cares not to open too wide every avenue to science. The state of public instruction is one of the greatest glories of Switzerland. There is no country where primary instruction is more developed and more wide-spread. A Switzer will tell you that every child in the Confederation, unless under the school age or mentally incapacitated, can read and write. This is true to the extent that the exceptions to the rule are not sufficient to constitute an illiterate class. Keeping school is the permanent business of the state, and the attention to it is not merely a fixed and formal business, but an unceasing and engrossing duty. A school is one of the first things present to the eyes of a Swiss child, and one of the last things present to the mind of a Swiss man. On reaching a certain age, the right to stay at home and play ceases; the school seizes the child, holds him fast for years, and rears him into what he is to be. The two great items of expense which figure in the budget of a Swiss Canton are the roads and public instruction. The sum bestowed on the latter is immense, relatively to the total means of the Canton, standing far ahead of the disbursements for military service, which, in Europe, is a startling fact. On the continent, with the exception of Switzerland, the cost of the public forces, even in times of absolute peace, is estimated to be nearly fourteen times that of the public schools.[72] The passion for public education, and the large expenditure so cheerfully made for its support, are but natural in the land that gave birth to Rousseau, Pestalozzi, and Fellenberg. John Henry Pestalozzi, born at Zurich in 1746, was the most celebrated of Swiss educational reformers and philanthropists. His system furnished the basis and gave the first impetus to the public school organization; it furnished also a model for the rest of Europe, and especially for Germany. The main features of this system, with the improvements made upon it, are to-day regarded in Switzerland as the chief corner-stone of their superb educational condition. His whole school apparatus consisted of himself and his pupils; so he studied the children themselves, their wants and capacities. “I stood in the midst of them,” he explains, “pronouncing various sounds and asking the children to imitate them. Whoever saw it was struck with the effect. It is true, it was like a meteor which vanishes in the air as soon as it appears. No one understood its nature. I did not understand it myself. It was the result of a simple idea, or rather of a fact of human nature, which was revealed to my feelings, but of which I was far from having a clear consciousness. Being obliged to instruct the children by myself, without any assistance, I learnt the art of teaching a great number together; and as I had no other means of bringing the instruction before them than that of pronouncing everything to them loudly and distinctly, I was naturally led to the idea of making them draw, write, or work, all at the same time.” Combining the experience with the ideas he had received many years before from Rousseau, he invented his system of object-lessons. The Yverdon Institute had soon a world-wide reputation. Many came to wonder, many to be educated, many to learn the art of education. Pestalozzian teachers went from it to Madrid, to Naples, to St. Petersburg. Kings and philosophers joined in doing it honor. While Pestalozzi did not invent the principle that education is a developing of the faculties rather than an imparting of knowledge, he did much to bring this truth to bear on early education, and to make it not only received, but acted on. We must, at least, concede to him the merit, which he himself claims, of having “lighted upon truths little noticed before, and principles which, though almost generally acknowledged, are seldom carried out in practice.” The motive power of his career was the “enthusiasm of humanity.” He never lost faith in the true dignity of man, and in the possibility of raising the Swiss peasantry to a condition worthy of it. “From my youth up,” he says, “I felt what a high and indispensable human duty it was to labor for the poor and miserable, that he may attain to a consciousness of his own dignity through his feeling of the universal powers and endowments which he possesses awakened within him, so that he may be raised not only above the ploughing oxen, but also above the man in purple and silk who lives unworthily of his high destiny.” It is claimed of him that he was the first teacher to announce convincingly the doctrine that all people should be educated; that, in fact, education is the one good gift to give to all, rich or poor, and, unlike any other giving, it helps and does not hinder self-help. Pestalozzi was no friend to the notion of giving instruction always in the guise of amusement, contending that a child should very early in life be taught the lesson that exertion is indispensable for the attainment of knowledge. At the same time he held that a child should not be taught to look upon exertion as an evil; he should be encouraged, not frightened, into it. “An interest,” he claims, “in study is the first thing which a teacher should endeavor to excite and keep alive. There are scarcely any circumstances in which a want of application in children does not proceed from a want of interest; and there are, perhaps, none in which the want of interest does not originate in the mode of teaching adopted by the teacher. I would go so far as to lay it down as a rule that, whenever children are inattentive and apparently take no interest in a lesson, the teacher should always first look to himself for the reason. Could we conceive the indescribable tedium which must oppress the young mind while the weary hours are slowly passing away, one after another, in occupations which it can neither relish nor understand, could we remember the like scenes which our own childhood has passed through, we should no longer be surprised at the remissness of the school-boy, creeping like a snail unwillingly to school. We must adopt a better mode of instruction, by which children are less left to themselves, less thrown upon the unwelcome employment of passive listening, but more roused by questions, animated by illustrations, interested and won by kindness.”