Anarchism and Other Essays (Version 2) — Francisco Ferrer & the Modern School, pt. 1
FRANCISCO FERRER AND THE MODERN SCHOOL
Experience has come to be considered the best school of life.
The man or woman who does not learn some vital lesson in that school is looked upon as a dunce indeed.
Yet strange to say, that though organized institutions continue perpetrating errors, though they learn nothing from experience, we acquiesce, as a matter of course.
There lived and worked in Barcelona a man by the name of Francisco Ferrer.
A teacher of children he was, known and loved by his people.
Outside of Spain only the cultured few knew of Francisco Ferrer's work.
To the world at large this teacher was non-existent.
On the first of September, 1909, the Spanish government--at the behest of the Catholic Church--arrested Francisco Ferrer.
On the thirteenth of October, after a mock trial, he was placed in the ditch at Montjuich prison, against the hideous wall of many sighs, and shot dead.
Instantly Ferrer, the obscure teacher, became a universal figure, blazing forth the indignation and wrath of the whole civilized world against the wanton murder.
The killing of Francisco Ferrer was not the first crime committed by the Spanish government and the Catholic Church.
The history of these institutions is one long stream of fire and blood.
Still they have not learned through experience, nor yet come to realize that every frail being slain by Church and State grows and grows into a mighty giant, who will some day free humanity from their perilous hold.
Francisco Ferrer was born in 1859, of humble parents.
They were Catholics, and therefore hoped to raise their son in the same faith.
They did not know that the boy was to become the harbinger of a great truth, that his mind would refuse to travel in the old path.
At an early age Ferrer began to question the faith of his fathers.
He demanded to know how it is that the God who spoke to him of goodness and love would mar the sleep of the innocent child with dread and awe of tortures, of suffering, of hell.
Alert and of a vivid and investigating mind, it did not take him long to discover the hideousness of that black monster, the Catholic Church.
He would have none of it.
Francisco Ferrer was not only a doubter, a searcher for truth; he was also a rebel.
His spirit would rise in just indignation against the iron regime of his country, and when a band of rebels, led by the brave patriot, General Villacampa, under the banner of the Republican ideal, made an onslaught on that regime, none was more ardent a fighter than young Francisco Ferrer.
The Republican ideal,--I hope no one will confound it with the Republicanism of this country.
Whatever objection I, as an Anarchist, have to the Republicans of Latin countries, I know they tower high above the corrupt and reactionary party which, in America, is destroying every vestige of liberty and justice.
One has but to think of the Mazzinis, the Garibaldis, the scores of others, to realize that their efforts were directed, not merely towards the overthrow of despotism, but particularly against the Catholic Church, which from its very inception has been the enemy of all progress and liberalism.
In America it is just the reverse.
Republicanism stands for vested rights, for imperialism, for graft, for the annihilation of every semblance of liberty.
Its ideal is the oily, creepy respectability of a McKinley, and the brutal arrogance of a Roosevelt.
The Spanish republican rebels were subdued.
It takes more than one brave effort to split the rock of ages, to cut off the head of that hydra monster, the Catholic Church and the Spanish throne.
Arrest, persecution, and punishment followed the heroic attempt of the little band.
Those who could escape the bloodhounds had to flee for safety to foreign shores.
Francisco Ferrer was among the latter.
He went to France.
How his soul must have expanded in the new land!
France, the cradle of liberty, of ideas, of action.
Paris, the ever young, intense Paris, with her pulsating life, after the gloom of his own belated country,--how she must have inspired him.
What opportunities, what a glorious chance for a young idealist.
Francisco Ferrer lost no time.
Like one famished he threw himself into the various liberal movements, met all kinds of people, learned, absorbed, and grew.
While there, he also saw in operation the Modern School, which was to play such an important and fatal part in his life.
The Modern School in France was founded long before Ferrer's time.
Its originator, though on a small scale, was that sweet spirit, Louise Michel.
Whether consciously or unconsciously, our own great Louise felt long ago that the future belongs to the young generation;
that unless the young be rescued from that mind and soul destroying institution, the bourgeois school, social evils will continue to exist.
Perhaps she thought, with Ibsen, that the atmosphere is saturated with ghosts, that the adult man and woman have so many superstitions to overcome.
No sooner do they outgrow the deathlike grip of one spook, lo!
they find themselves in the thralldom of ninety-nine other spooks.
Thus but a few reach the mountain peak of complete regeneration.
The child, however, has no traditions to overcome.
Its mind is not burdened with set ideas, its heart has not grown cold with class and caste distinctions.
The child is to the teacher what clay is to the sculptor.
Whether the world will receive a work of art or a wretched imitation, depends to a large extent on the creative power of the teacher.
Louise Michel was pre-eminently qualified to meet the child's soul cravings.
Was she not herself of a childlike nature, so sweet and tender, unsophisticated and generous.
The soul of Louise burned always at white heat over every social injustice.
She was invariably in the front ranks whenever the people of Paris rebelled against some wrong.
And as she was made to suffer imprisonment for her great devotion to the oppressed, the little school on Montmartre was soon no more.
But the seed was planted, and has since borne fruit in many cities of France.
The most important venture of a Modern School was that of the great, young old man, Paul Robin.
Together with a few friends he established a large school at Cempuis, a beautiful place near Paris.
Paul Robin aimed at a higher ideal than merely modern ideas in education.
He wanted to demonstrate by actual facts that the bourgeois conception of heredity is but a mere pretext to exempt society from its terrible crimes against the young.
The contention that the child must suffer for the sins of the fathers, that it must continue in poverty and filth, that it must grow up a drunkard or criminal, just because its parents left it no other legacy, was too preposterous to the beautiful spirit of Paul Robin.
He believed that whatever part heredity may play, there are other factors equally great, if not greater, that may and will eradicate or minimize the so-called first cause.
Proper economic and social environment, the breath and freedom of nature, healthy exercise, love and sympathy, and, above all, a deep understanding for the needs of the child--these would destroy the cruel, unjust, and criminal stigma imposed on the innocent young.
Paul Robin did not select his children; he did not go to the so-called best parents: he took his material wherever he could find it.
From the street, the hovels, the orphan and foundling asylums, the reformatories, from all those gray and hideous places where a benevolent society hides its victims in order to pacify its guilty conscience.
He gathered all the dirty, filthy, shivering little waifs his place would hold, and brought them to Cempuis.
There, surrounded by nature's own glory, free and unrestrained, well fed, clean kept, deeply loved and understood, the little human plants began to grow, to blossom, to develop beyond even the expectations of their friend and teacher, Paul Robin.
The children grew and developed into self-reliant, liberty loving men and women.
What greater danger to the institutions that make the poor in order to perpetuate the poor.
Cempuis was closed by the French government on the charge of co-education, which is prohibited in France.
However, Cempuis had been in operation long enough to prove to all advanced educators its tremendous possibilities, and to serve as an impetus for modern methods of education, that are slowly but inevitably undermining the present system.
Cempuis was followed by a great number of other educational attempts,--among them, by Madelaine Vernet, a gifted writer and poet, author of L'AMOUR LIBRE, and Sebastian Faure, with his LA RUCHE,[1] which I visited while in Paris, in 1907. Several years ago Comrade Faure bought the land on which he built his LA RUCHE.
In a comparatively short time he succeeded in transforming the former wild, uncultivated country into a blooming spot, having all the appearance of a well kept farm.
A large, square court, enclosed by three buildings, and a broad path leading to the garden and orchards, greet the eye of the visitor.
The garden, kept as only a Frenchman knows how, furnishes a large variety of vegetables for LA RUCHE.
Sebastian Faure is of the opinion that if the child is subjected to contradictory influences, its development suffers in consequence.
Only when the material needs, the hygiene of the home, and intellectual environment are harmonious, can the child grow into a healthy, free being.
Referring to his school, Sebastian Faure has this to say: "I have taken twenty-four children of both sexes, mostly orphans, or those whose parents are too poor to pay.
They are clothed, housed, and educated at my expense.
Till their twelfth year they will receive a sound, elementary education.
Between the age of twelve and fifteen--their studies still continuing--they are to be taught some trade, in keeping with their individual disposition and abilities.
After that they are at liberty to leave LA RUCHE to begin life in the outside world, with the assurance that they may at any time return to LA RUCHE, where they will be received with open arms and welcomed as parents do their beloved children.
Then, if they wish to work at our place, they may do so under the following conditions: One third of the product to cover his or her expenses of maintenance, another third to go towards the general fund set aside for accommodating new children, and the last third to be devoted to the personal use of the child, as he or she may see fit.
"The health of the children who are now in my care is perfect.
Pure air, nutritious food, physical exercise in the open, long walks, observation of hygienic rules, the short and interesting method of instruction, and, above all, our affectionate understanding and care of the children, have produced admirable physical and mental results.
"It would be unjust to claim that our pupils have accomplished wonders; yet, considering that they belong to the average, having had no previous opportunities, the results are very gratifying indeed.
The most important thing they have acquired--a rare trait with ordinary school children--is the love of study, the desire to know, to be informed.
They have learned a new method of work, one that quickens the memory and stimulates the imagination.
We make a particular effort to awaken the child's interest in his surroundings, to make him realize the importance of observation, investigation, and reflection, so that when the children reach maturity, they would not be deaf and blind to the things about them.
Our children never accept anything in blind faith, without inquiry as to why and wherefore; nor do they feel satisfied until their questions are thoroughly answered.
Thus their minds are free from doubts and fear resultant from incomplete or untruthful replies; it is the latter which warp the growth of the child, and create a lack of confidence in himself and those about him.
"It is surprising how frank and kind and affectionate our little ones are to each other.
The harmony between themselves and the adults at LA RUCHE is highly encouraging.
We should feel at fault if the children were to fear or honor us merely because we are their elders.
We leave nothing undone to gain their confidence and love; that accomplished, understanding will replace duty; confidence, fear; and affection, severity.
"No one has yet fully realized the wealth of sympathy, kindness, and generosity hidden in the soul of the child.
The effort of every true educator should be to unlock that treasure--to stimulate the child's impulses, and call forth the best and noblest tendencies.
What greater reward can there be for one whose life-work is to watch over the growth of the human plant, than to see its nature unfold its petals, and to observe it develop into a true individuality.
My comrades at LA RUCHE look for no greater reward, and it is due to them and their efforts, even more than to my own, that our human garden promises to bear beautiful fruit."
[2] Regarding the subject of history and the prevailing old methods of instruction, Sebastian Faure said: "We explain to our children that true history is yet to be written,--the story of those who have died, unknown, in the effort to aid humanity to greater achievement."
[3] Francisco Ferrer could not escape this great wave of Modern School attempts.
He saw its possibilities, not merely in theoretic form, but in their practical application to every-day needs.
He must have realized that Spain, more than any other country, stands in need of just such schools, if it is ever to throw off the double yoke of priest and soldier.
When we consider that the entire system of education in Spain is in the hands of the Catholic Church, and when we further remember the Catholic formula, "To inculcate Catholicism in the mind of the child until it is nine years of age is to ruin it forever for any other idea," we will understand the tremendous task of Ferrer in bringing the new light to his people.
Fate soon assisted him in realizing his great dream.
Mlle.
Meunier, a pupil of Francisco Ferrer, and a lady of wealth, became interested in the Modern School project.
When she died, she left Ferrer some valuable property and twelve thousand francs yearly income for the School.
It is said that mean souls can conceive of naught but mean ideas.
If so, the contemptible methods of the Catholic Church to blackguard Ferrer's character, in order to justify her own black crime, can readily be explained.
Thus the lie was spread in American Catholic papers, that Ferrer used his intimacy with Mlle.
Meunier to get possession of her money.
Personally, I hold that the intimacy, of whatever nature, between a man and a woman, is their own affair, their sacred own.
I would therefore not lose a word in referring to the matter, if it were not one of the many dastardly lies circulated about Ferrer.
Of course, those who know the purity of the Catholic clergy will understand the insinuation.
Have the Catholic priests ever looked upon woman as anything but a sex commodity?
The historical data regarding the discoveries in the cloisters and monasteries will bear me out in that.
How, then, are they to understand the co-operation of a man and a woman, except on a sex basis?
As a matter of fact, Mlle.
Meunier was considerably Ferrer's senior.
Having spent her childhood and girlhood with a miserly father and a submissive mother, she could easily appreciate the necessity of love and joy in child life.
She must have seen that Francisco Ferrer was a teacher, not college, machine, or diploma-made, but one endowed with genius for that calling.
