Penelopes Postscripts | Page 6

upon due reflection
I was a trifle nervous about the true nature of the bargain.
The Yverdon station fronted on a great open common dotted with a few
trees. There were a good many mothers and children sitting on the
benches, and a number of young lads playing ball. The town itself is
one of the quaintest, quietest, and sleepiest in Switzerland. From 1803
to 1810 it was a place of pilgrimage for philanthropists from all parts of
Europe; for at that time Pestalozzi was at the zenith of his fame, having
under him one hundred and sixty-five pupils from Europe and America,
and thirty- two adult teachers, who were learning his method.
But Yverdon has lost its former greatness now! Scarcely any English
travellers go there and still fewer Americans. We fancied that there was
nothing extraordinary in our appearance; nevertheless a small crowd of
children followed at our heels, and the shopkeepers stood at their open
doors and regarded us with intense interest.
"No English spoken here, that is evident," said Salemina ruefully; "but
you have such a gift for languages you can take the command to-day
and make the blunders and bear the jeers of the public. You must find
out where the new Pestalozzi Monument is,--where the Chateau
is,--where the schools are, and whether visitors are admitted,--whether
there is a respectable hotel where we can get dinner,--whether we can
get back to Geneva to-night, whether it's a fast or a slow train, and what
time it gets there,--whether the methods of Pestalozzi are still
maintained,--whether they know anything about Froebel,--whether they
know what a kindergarten is, and whether they have one in the village.
Some of these questions will be quite difficult even for you."
Well, the monument was not difficult to find, at all events. We accosted
two or three small boys and demanded boldly of one of them, "Ou est
le monument de Pestalozzi, s'il vous plait?"
He shrugged his shoulders like an American small boy and said
vacantly, "Je ne sais pas."

"Of course he does know," said Salemina; "he means to be disagreeable;
or else 'monument' isn't monument."
"Well," I answered, "there is a monument in the distance, and there
cannot be two in this village."
Sure enough it was the very one we sought. It stands in a little open
place quite "in the business heart of the city,"--as we should say in
America, and is an exceedingly fine and impressive bit of sculpture.
The group of three figures is in bronze and was done by M. Gruet of
Paris.
The modelling is strong, the expression of Pestalozzi benign and sweet,
and the trusting upturned faces of the children equally genuine and
attractive.
One side of the pedestal bears the inscription:-
A Pestalozzi 1746-1827 Monument erige par souscription populaire
MDCCCXC
On a second side these words are carved in the stone:-
Sauveur des Pauvres a Neuhof Pere des Orphelins a Stanz Fondateur de
l'ecole populaire a Burgdorf Educateur de l'humanite a Yverdon Tout
pour les autres, pour lui,--rien!
An older monument erected in 1846 by the Canton of Argovia bears
this same inscription, save that it adds, "Preacher to the people in
'Leonard and Gertrude.' Man. Christian. Citizen. Blessed be his name!"
On the third side of the Yverdon Monument is Pestalozzi's noble
speech, fine enough indeed, to be cut in stone:-
"J'ai vecu moi-meme comme un mendiant, pour apprendre a des
mendiants a vivre comme des hommes."
We sat a long time on the great marble pedestal, gazing into the
benevolent face, and reviewing the simple, self-sacrificing life of the

great educator, and then started on a tour of inspection. After
wandering through most of the shops, buying photographs and
mementoes, Salemina discovered that she had left the expensive
tumbler in one of them. After a long discussion as to whether tumbler
was masculine or feminine, and as to whether "Ai-je laisse un verre
ici?" or "Est-ce que j'ai laisse un verre ici?" was the proper query, we
retraced our steps, Salemina asking in one shop, "Excusez-moi, je vous
prie, mais ai-je laisse un verre ici?",--and I in the next, "Je demands
pardon, Madame, est-ce que j'ai laisse un verre dans ce
magasin-ci?--J'en ai perdu un, somewhere." Finally we found it, and in
response not to mine but to Salemina's question, so that she was
superior and obnoxious for several minutes.
Our next point of interest was the old castle, which is still a public
school. Finding the caretaker, we visited first the museum and
library--a small collection of curiosities, books, and mementoes,
various portraits of Pestalozzi and his wife, manuscripts and so forth.
The simple-hearted woman who did the honours was quite overcome
by our knowledge of and interest in her pedagogical hero, but she did
not return the compliment. I