If one may speak of achievements at all in a preparatory school, those of Albert were of the average modest level. He was careful as a pupil, generally satisfied requirements, but in no way betrayed special talents: indeed, so much the less, as he showed himself to be possessed of a very uncertain memory for words. The methodic plan of the elementary school that he attended to his tenth year was, however, not other than the usual scheme mapped out by drill-masters; it made up for what was lacking in an understanding of the pupils by applying drastic strictness. The beautiful sentence of Jean Paul: "Memory is the only paradise from which we cannot be banished," finds no echo in Einstein's school memories, of which he has often spoken to me without a shadow of regret for a lost paradise. He told me with bitter sarcasm that his teachers had the character of sergeants--those later in the _gymnasium_ (secondary school) were of the nature of lieutenants. Both terms are used in the pre-armistice sense, and his words were directed against the self-opinionated tone and customs of these garrison-schools of earlier days. The next stage of his development was a course of study at the Luitpold-Gymnasium in Munich, which placed him in the second class. In Einstein's retrospect of these days more friendly recollections present themselves, connected, however, only with particular persons, and not breathing praise in general; on the contrary, from his account, it is clear that although he conceived affection for individual teachers, he felt the tone of the institute as a whole to be rough. As we know, many things have been changed in these schools since then, following on a revulsion from the convict atmosphere that used to characterize them, and which meant suffering enough for the pupils. The result was that the schoolboy Einstein developed a contempt for human institutions and assigned little value to the subjects of study which he was obliged to absorb in schematic form without the application of his own mental energy. This gloomy picture is relieved at points by the presence of several teachers, above all, one called Ruëss, who took pains in exposing the beauty of classical antiquity to the fourteen-year-old boy. We learn elsewhere that Einstein at present admits the humanistic ideal for the school of the future only under very restricted limitations. But when he thinks of this teacher and his influence, a warm appreciation of classical study vibrates in his words, occasionally rising, indeed, to an unbounded enthusiasm for the treasures of Greek history and literature. His instruction was not restricted to the acquisition of a perspective of the antique. Under the direction of the same teacher, he was introduced into the poetic world of his native country, and learned the magic of Goethe in his "Hermann and Dorothea"; this poem, as he confesses, was explained to him in a really model manner. Thus there