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THE ^^^'it^^^ 

Education of Man, 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 

J. S. CusHiNG & Co., Pkinteks, Boston. 




Foundation of the Whole. (Sec. 1 to Sec. 23) 1 


Man in the Period of his Earliest Childhood. (Sec. 24 to 

Sec. 44) 24 

Man as a Boy. (Sec. 45 to Sec. 55) 57 

Man as a Scholar : 

1. What is School? (Sec. 56 to Sec. 57) 79 

2. What shall Schools Teach ? (Sec. 58 to Sec. 59) 85 

3. Concerning the Principal Groups of Instruction : 

A. Concerning Religion and Religious Instruction. (Sec. 60 to 

Sec. 61) 86 

B. Concerning Physics and Mathematics. (Sec. 62 to Sec. 76) . 94 
c. Concerning Language and Instruction in Language. (Sec. 77 

to Sec. 83) 138 

D. Concerning Art and the Subjects of Art. (Sec. 84 to Sec. 85) 151 

4. Concerning the Connection between School and Family, and 

the Subjects of Instruction Conditioned by this Connection : 

A. General Contemplation. (Sec. 86 to Sec. 87) 154 

B. Particular Consideration of the Individual Subjects of In- 

struction : 
a. Vivification and Cultivation of the Religious Sense. (Sec. 88 

to Sec. 89) 160 

6. Respect for, Knowledge and Cultivation of the Body. (Sec. 90) 168 

c. Contemplation of Nature and of the Outside W^orld. (Sec. 91) 170 

d. Appropriation of Little Poetical Representations Comprising 

Nature and Life, and used Especially for Singing. (Sec. 92) 189 



e. Exercises in Language Proceeding from the Contemplation 

of Nature and the Outside World. (Sec. 93) 195 

/. Kepresentations in Space. (Sec. 94) 204 

g. Drawing in Net. (Sec. 95) 209 

li. Comprehension of Colors. (Sec. 96) 221 

i. Play 228 

k. Stories. (Sec. 97) 229 

I. Short Excursions and Long Walks. (Sec. 98) 233 

m. Knowledge of Number. (Sec. 99) 236 

n. Knowledge of Forms. (Sec. 100) 249 

0. Exercises in Speech. (Sec. 101) 252 

j>. Writing. (Sec. 102) 261 

q. Reading. (Sec. 103) . 267 

r. Survey and Conclusion of the Whole. (Sec. 104) .... 269 


By Elizabeth P, Peabody. 

THIS first work of Frederic Froebel, published in 1827, is impera- 
tively called for by the American public, which has become so 
widely unpressed with the value of his System of Education. This 
system embodies the wisdom of ages, and is founded upon a deeper 
insight into the nature of childi'en than has been expressed by 
any others, with the exception of him who pronounced them " of th-e 
kingdom of Heaven." 

He had been for ten years engaged with friends in an attempt to 
educate children, who come to him at ten years old, and who, he 
found, had at that age much to unlearn. His work is addressed to 
mothers, whom he thought at the moment the only persons competent 
to educate children into the harmony of heart, intellect, and hand, 
during the first seven years of their age. It has in it all the elements 
of kindergarten nurture ; for he tells what children need and must 
have for development. But in the course of the next twelve years he 
learned that no mortal mother could have the strength to do all that 
is due to children in order that justice may be done to their natures, 
but that she must have assistance ; and he invented the kindergarten 
in 1839, in which he proposed that from twelve to twenty-five children 
should be gathered for three hours every day, from several families, 
under the care of a mother's assistant, whom he called a kinder- 
gartner, and be played with in the mother's genial, cherishing way 
till old enough to be sent to school and taught to read at seven years 
of age, which he thought early enough to teach them the signs of the 
ideas they would have acquired by the cultivation of their perceptive 
and artistic faculties, their observation, attention, and colloquial use 


of language. Children are to be guided to make a beginning in all 
the arts and sciences without interference with their spontaneity, 
the instinct of imitation being so used as to give them order without 
constraining them. 

The "" Mother-Love and Xursery Songs " were translated by the 
same able hand, and published in Boston by the mmiificent assistance 
of Mrs. Quincy Shaw. This book has been used as the Manual for 
training Kindergartners by Miss Blow of St. Louis, and other emi- 
nent teachers. It will be found very valuable in educating mothers 
into wise cooperation with the kindergartners, as well as in educat- 
ing kindergartners into sympathy with mothers. 

There is another volume, consisting of articles published by 
Froebel in periodicals, which were edited by Wichard Lange after 
his death; and we hope to see it published by another year; for 
these three volumes would give us all the written works of this great 
educational genius. Miss Jarvis has it in translation. 


Paet I. 


Section 1. 

Ax eternal law acts and rules in all. It has expressed and now 
expresses itself outwardly in Xature, as well as inwardly in the 
spirit and in life, which unites the two; it has expressed and now^^Wv^ 
expresses itself with equal clearness and precision to him whose heart 
and faith are inevitably so filled, penetrated, and living, that he can- 
not be otherwise than he is ; or to him whose clear, quiet, spii'itual ' j_, 
eye sees into the outward, and perceives the inward by means of the ^'' 
outward, and sees the outward necessarily and surely proceed from 
the nature of the inward. An all-working, self-animating, self-know- 
ing — therefore eternally existing — unity necessarily lies at the foun- 
dation of this all-ruling law. This law works in like manner again ; 
so that it, the unity itself, vivified, comprehensively recognized through 
faith or through perception, has been always surely recognized at all 
times by a quiet, thoughtful intellect, by a bright, clear human spirit ; 
and always will be recognized by such a mind and spirit. 

This unity is God. 

All has proceeded from God, and is limited by God alone : in God 
is the sole origin of all things. 

God rests, acts, rules, in all. 

All rests, lives, exists, in God and through God. 

All things exist only because the divine works in them. 

The divine which works in each thing is the nature of each thing. 

Section 2. 

The destiny, as well as the vocation, of all things is to represent 
their nature through development, and thus the divine in them ; to 
make known and manifest God in the outward and transitory things. 


The special destiny, as well as the particular vocation, of man as an 
understanding and rational being, is to bring his nature, the divine 
in him, thus God, and his destiny, his vocation, himself, to complete 
consciousness, to vivid recognition, to clear insight, and with self- 
determination and freedom to practise all this in his own life, to 
allow it to act, to manifest it. 

To treat man as a thinking, understanding being, who is becoming 
conscious of himself ; to mcite him to the pure, unviolated represen- 
tation of the inner law, of the God-like, with consciousness and self- 
determination ; and to produce ways and means for this representation, 
is to educate man. 

Section 8. 

To recognize and become conscious of this eternal law, to discern 
its foundation, its nature, the wholeness, the coherence and the activity 
of its workings, to know life, to know life in its totality, is science, 
— the science of life. 

And the representation and practice by the conscious, thinking, 
understanding being, is the science of education. 

The precept for a thinking, understanding being to become con- 
scious of his vocation, and to attain his destiny, which proceeds from 
the recognition of, and insight into, this law, is a theory of education. 

By independent action to apply this recognition and insight to 
direct development and cultivation of the reasoning being to the 
attainment of his destiny, is the art of education. 

The aim of education is to represent life, pure, inviolable, true to 
its vocation, and therefore holy. 

Recognition and application, consciousness and representation, 
united in living a pure, holy life, true to its vocation, form the wis- 
dom of life, — are wisdom itself. 

Section 4. 

To be wise is the highest effort of man, his highest act of self- 

To educate one's self and others, to educate consciously, freely, and 
self-determinately, is the dual act of wisdom ; it began with the first 
appearance of the individual human being upon earth, and was there 
with the first appearance of complete self-consciousness of the indi- 
vidual being; it begins now to express itself as a necessary general 


requirement of humanity, and as such to find a hearing and to be 
applied. This act is the first step upon the path which alone leads to 
life ; which surely leads to the fulfilment of the inner, and through 
this also to the fulfilment of the outer, requirements of the human 
nature ; which leads to blessed living, to a pure, holy life, true to its 

Section 5. 

The divine in man, his nature, therefore, is to be and must be 
developed to consciousness by education ; and man must be raised to 
free, conscious living in accordance with the divine, thus to free repre- 
sentation of the divine which acts within him. 

Education should and must bring man to perceive and recognize 
the divine which is in Xature, which forms the character of Xature, 
and is abidingly expressed in it : education should also express and 
represent Natm-e and the divine in lively reciprocal action, and, united 
with this instruction, should represent the similarity of laws between 
the two, as well as between Mature and man. 

Education in its totality is to raise to consciousness in man, and to 
make efficient in life, the fact that man and Xature proceeded from 
God, are limited by him, and rest in him. 

Education is to guide man to clearness about himself and in him- 
self, to peace with Nature, and to union with God; therefore it is 
to raise man to the recognition of himself and of humanity, to the 
recognition of God and Xature, and to the pure, holy life thereby 
conditioned. - 

Section 6. 

But in all these requirements education is founded upon the inward 
and innermost. 

Every thing inward is recognized from the inward to the outward 
and by means of the outward. The nature, the divine, the spirit of 
things and of man, are recognized by their utterances. If for man, 
now, the utterances of man and of things are the same with which all 
education, all instruction, all life, connects itseK as a product of free- 
dom, and, proceeding from the outer to the inner, acts and argues, 
nevertheless education cannot directly argue from the outer to the 
inner; but the nature of things requires that always, in whatever 
reference, it is to be argued from the outer to the inner, and from the 
inner to the outer. So it is inadmissible to argue from the manifold- 


ness and plurality in Xature to a plan of the ultimate limitation of 
Nature, or to a plurality of gods ; it is equally inadmissible to argue 
from the unity of God to a finality of Nature ; but in both cases the 
argument must proceed from the manifoldness in Nature to the unity 
of its ultimate origin, G.od, and from the unity of God to the eternally 
continuing manifoldness of the developments of Nature. 

The non-application of the truth I have just expressed, but much 
more the constant sinning against it, the direct conclusion from cer- 
tain outward phenomena in child-life and boy-life upon the inner life 
of child and boy, is the most essential ground of the combating, oppos- 
ing phenomena of the abortive attempts so frequent in life and in 
education. This is certainly the foundation of many mistakes with 
regard to children, boys and youths ; of so many failures in the educa- 
tion of children; of so much misunderstanding between j)arent and 
child, either on one side or another; of so much unnecessary com- 
plaint, as well as of unseemly arrogance and foolish expectation on 
the part of the children. Therefore the ap^Dlication of this truth is 
so highly important for parents, educators, and teachers, that they 
should collectivelj'- exert themselves to become familiar with even the 
minutiae of its application. This would bring into the relations 
between parents and children, pupils and educators, scholars and 
teachers, a clearness, a certainty, even a repose, which are now vainly 
striven for. Since the child who outwardly appears good is often in 
himself not good, — that is, he does not Avill the good from his own 
determination, or from love, respect, or recognition of it , — so the out- 
wardly rough, defiant, self-willed child, who therefore does not appear 
good from his own determination, or from love, respect, or recognition 
of it, has often within himself the most active, eager, vigorous strug- 
gles toward representation of the good by his own determination ; the 
outwardly absent-minded boy has within himself an abiding, fixed 
thought which will not let him pay attention to outside things. 

Section 7. 

Therefore education, instruction, and teaching should in the first 
characteristics necessarily be passive, watchfully and protectively fol- 
lowing, not dictatorial, not invariable, not forcibly interfering. 


Section 8. 

But education in itseK must necessarily be passive, watchfully and 
protectively following ; for the effect of the divine is, when undisturbed, 
necessarily good : in fact, it cannot be otherwise than good. This 
necessity must presuppose that the still young human being, even 
though as yet unconsciously, like a product of JJv'ature, precisely and 
surely wills that which is best for himself, and, moreover, in a form 
quite suitable to him, and which he feels within himself the disposi- 
tion, power, and means to represent. So the young duckling hastens 
to the pond and into the water, while the chicken scratches in the 
earth, and the 3'oung swallow catches his food on the wing, and rarely 
touches the earth. Xow, whatever may be said against the truth of 
reversed conclusions before expressed, and this truth of cautious fol- 
lowing, and also against the application of both to education, and 
however much these truths may be contested, yet they will vindicate 
themselves in their clearness and truth to that generation which, 
wholly confiding in them, applies them. 

We give time and space to young plants and young animals, know- 
ing that they then beautifully unfold, and grow well, in conformity 
with the laws which act in each individual ; we let them rest, and 
strive to avoid powerfully interfering influences upon them, knowing 
that these influences disturb their pure unfolding and healthy develop- 
ment : but the young human being is to man a piece of wax, a lump 
of clay, from which he can mould what he will. — Men, who wander 
through your fields, gardens, and groves, why do you not open your 
minds to receive what N'ature in dumb speech teaches you ? Look at 
the plants which you call weeds, and which, grown up here compressed 
and constrained, scarcely permit one to guess at their inner symmetry ; 
but look at them in free space, in field and flower-bed, and see what a 
symmetry, what a pure inner life they show, harmonizing in all parts 
and expressions : a regular sun, a radiating star of the earth, springs up. 
So, parents, your children on whom you early impress form and voca- 
tion against their nature, and who therefore wander around you in lan- 
guor and unnaturalness, might also become beautiful, self-unfolding, 
and all-sided self-developing beings. 

All active, dictatorial, invariable, and forcibly interfering educa- 
tion and instruction must necessarily have a disturbing, checking, 
and destructive effect upon the action of the divine, in accordance 
with and upon the original, unviolated, and healthy state of the 


human being. So, continuing to learn from Xature, the plant, the 
grape-vine, must be pruned; but the pruning, as such, brings no 
more wine from the grape-vine. Rather the grape-vine may be 
wholly destroyed by the pruning, however good may be the inten- 
tion in doing it; at least, its fruitfulness and capacity for bearing 
fruit are injured if the gardener, in his work, does not passively and 
thoughtfully follow the nature of the plant. We very frequently 
take the right steps in oui- treatment of the objects of Nature, 
while we go wrong in the management of human beings. And 
yet there act in both, powers which flow from one fountain, and 
which act according to the same laws. It is therefore very impor- 
tant for man to observe and consider Nature from this point of view. 

Nature, indeed, rarely shows us now that unviolated, original con- 
dition, especially in regard to man ; but so much the more must it be 
presupposed, especially of the human being, so long as the opposite 
has not expressed itself VN'ith clearness, because otherwise the unvio- 
lated original condition, even where it might still be found, could 
still be easily destroyed. But if the certainty of the infraction of the 
original proceeds from the totality of the human being who is to be edu- 
cated ; if this infraction from the inner and outer whole is certain, — in 
that case, strictly requiring ways of education enter in their full force. 

But, further, the interrupted putting-forth of the inward is not 
always proved with certainty, is, indeed, often difficult to prove ; at 
least this applies to the point, the fountain in which the infraction 
has its foundation and beginning, and to the direction which it took. 
The last infallible test lies only in man himself. Therefore, from this 
point of view, education and all instruction must be much more pas- 
sive and following than dictatorial and prescriptive ; because, through 
the pure, onward development, the sure, constant progression of the 
human race — that is, the representation of the divine in man and 
through the life of man freely and by its own wdll (which, indeed, is 
the aim and endeavor of all education and all life, as well as the sole 
destiny of man) — will be lost utterly. 

Therefore the purely requiring, defining, and directing way of edu- 
cating man begins first with the beginning of his understanding of 
himself, — with the beginning of the connected life of God and man, — 
after the beginning of understanding and the common life between 
father and son, youth and master, because then the true can be derived 
from the nature of the whole and the nature of the individual, and can 
then be recognized. 


Before, therefore, the disturbance and infraction of the original 
healthy condition of the pupil is proved and clearly recognized, there 
remains nothing to do but to bring him into relations with those 
around him who will observe him on all sides, in whom his behavior 
is portrayed to him on various sides as in a mirror, and in whom he 
easily and quickly recognizes it in its effects and results ; by whom, 
therefore, the true situation with respect to himself and others can 
be easily recognized, where the outbreaks of the inner disturbance of 
life will be the least harmful. 

Section 9. 

The directing, interfering education has in general only two things 
in its favor, — either the clear, vivid thought, the true, self -proved, vivi- 
fied idea, or the exemplar already previously existing and recognized. 
But where the seK-grounded, vivid thought offers and j^rescribes that 
which is in itself true, there the eternal rules, as it were, and just on 
that account it comes forth again as passive and following. For the 
vivid thought, the eternal itself, as such, requires and conditions free 
self-activity and self-determination of man, of the being created for 
freedom, and resemblance to God. 

Section 10. 

But the most complete exemplar previously existing and recog- 
nized, the most complete model life, will only be a model in its nature, 
its efforts, but never in its form. It is the greatest misunderstanding 
of all spiritual human exemplars when they are taken as models in 
respect to form. Hence the frequent discoveiy that the phenomenon 
of the exemplar, if it become the pattern, acts restrictingiy, indeed 
deterioratingiy, instead of eleyatiiigly, on the human race. 

Section 11. 

Jesus himself, therefore, combated throughout his life and teach- 
ings this clinging to external models : only the spiritual, striving, 
active exemplar should be held fast as a type, but the form of it should 
be left free. The highest, most perfect model life which we Christians 
see in Jesus, the highest which humanity knows, is that which clearly 
and vividly recognized the original and primal cause of his being, of 
his semblance, and of his life, which, self-active and self-dependent, 


proceeded by eternal conditions in accordance with the eternal law, 
from the eternally living, eternally creating One. And this highest, 
eternal, model life itself requires that each man should be again such 
a copy of his perpetual model, that he himself should become such a 
pattern for himself and for others, that he should advance according 
to eternal laws freely, by his own determination and his own choice. 
This indeed is, and this only should be, the task and aim of all educa- 
tion. Therefore even the eternal Exemplar himself is passive and 
following in the requirement of form. 

Section 12. 

But nevertheless, as we see by experience, the vivid thought, the 
eternal spiritual exemplar must, according to its nature, determine 
and require ; and so it does. But we see, that, though it is indeed 
requiring and strict in its summons, it makes an inexorable and limit- 
less stand at the point (but only at the point) where the requirement 
expresses itself with necessity from the nature of . the whole and of 
the individual, and can be recognized as such w^hen the exemplar 
speaks as the organ of the necessity, and therefore only conditionally. 
The exemplar only comes forward with requirements where it presup- 
poses coming in to the others in the principle of the requirement 
from the spirit, conceiving them, or believing them from the intellect, 
therefore, either in untroubled childlike relations, or in clear, at least 
beginning manlike relations. Indeed, in these cases the exemplar 
makes its requirements either by example or by word, but always 
only in reference to spirit and life, never in reference to form. 

In good education, in genuine instruction, in true teaching, there- 
fore, necessity must call forth freedom; and law, self-determhiation ; 
the pressure from without, the free will within ; the hate from 
without, the love within. All education — every effect of education, 
teaching, and instruction — is destroyed where hate produces hate, 
where law produces deceit and crime, where pressure produces 
slavery and necessity servitude, where oppression destroys and 
debases, where strength and hardness produce contumacy and false- 
hood. In order to avoid these evils and to attain the good results, all 
that is apparently prescribing must follow^ in its action. This takes 
place when all education with its necessary determining requirements, 
stepping forth in all particulars and ramifications, has this undeniable, 
resistless imprint, that the requiring one himself is strictly and inevi- 


tably subjected to a perpetually gov^erning law, to an unavoidable 
perpetual necessity ; thus all arbitrariness is banished. 

Section 13. 

All true educators must at each instant, in all theii* requirements 
and designs, be at the same time two-sided, — giving and taking, unit- 
ing and separating, dictating and following, acting and enduring, 
deciding and setting free, fixed and movable ; and the pupil must be so 
also. But between the two, educator and' pupil, demand and result, 
there must be an invisible third — to Avhich educator and pupil are 
alike and equally subjected — to choose the best, the right necessarily 
proceeding from the conditions, and voluntarily expressing itself. 
The quiet recognition, the clear knowledge of the choice of this thii'd, 
and the serene submission to the choice, are what must express them- 
selves in the educator undeviatingiy and purely, but must often be 
firmly and earnestly expressed by him. The child, the pupil, has 
such a correct discernment, such a right feeling for recognizing 
whether what the educator or father expresses and requires is 
expressed by him personally and arbitrarily, or generally and as a 
necessity, that the child, the pupil, rarely makes a mistake in this. 

Sectiox 14. 

This submission to an invariable third, to which the pupil as well 
as the educator is subjected, must therefoi-e express itself even in 
detail in every requirement of the educator. Therefore the necessary 
general formula of instruction is as follows : do this, and see what 
results from your action in this precise respect, and to what discovery 
it leads you — and so the direction for life for each human being is, 
represent your spiritual nature, your life outwardly and by means of 
the outward in action, and see what yom- nature requires, and how it 
is constituted. 

Jesus himself invites in this direction to the recognition of the 
truth of his teaching, and therefore this is the direction for attaining 
to the recognition of all life, of the principle and nature of all life 
and of all truth. 

In this direction is solved and explained the following require- 
ment, and through it is given at once the manner of its solution and 
fulfilment. The educator must make the individual and particular 


general; lie must make the general individual and particular, and 
prove the existence of l>oth. He must make the external internal, 
and the internal external, and show the necessary unity for both ; he 
must consider the finite infinite, the infinite finite, and balance both in 
life. He must perceive and contemplate the divine in the human, 
and evince the nature of man in God, and strive to represent both in 
one another in life. 

This is what proceeds from the nature of man the more clearly and 
precisely, and expresses itself the more undeniably, the more man 
observes human development in himself, in the immature human 
being, and in the race. 

Section 15. 

Since, then, to demonstrate the infinite in the finite, the eternal in 
the temporal, the heavenly in the earthly, the divine in the human, in 
the life of man, hj fostering his original divine nature on every side, 
appears irrefutably to be the only aim of all education, so, proceed- 
ing from this, the only true standpoint, man must be considered and 
fostered even from birth, as indeed it was with Mary even from the 
moment of annunciation, while yet invisible, while yet unborn. 

Every human being must be recognized and fostered in accordance 
with his eternal, immortal nature, as the divine shown in human 
form, as a pledge of the love, the nearness, the favor of God, as a gift 
of God : this the first Christians actually recognized their children to 
be, as is testified by the names they gave to them. 

Every human being, even as a child, must be recognized, acknowl- 
edged, and fostered as a necessary and essential member of humanity; 
and so the parents should feel and recognize themselves responsible 
as fosterers, to God, to the child, and to humanity. 

Not less, also, should parents observe and consider the child in 
necessary connection, in clear relation, and in vivid reference to the 
present, past, and future of human development, and so place the 
cultivation, the education of the child in connection, accord, and har- 
mony with the present, past, and future demands of the development 
of man and of the human race : therefore the child should be observed, 
considered, and treated as a human being with divine, earthh', and 
human attributes, related to God, to nature, and to man; and thus 
at the same time a unity, an individuality, and a manifoldness ; 
therefore also comprising and bearing within itself, present, past, and 


Section 16. 

So the man, and humanity in man, must be vieTred as an outside 
appearance, must be viewed, not as abeady become perfect, not as 
fixed and stationary, but as constant, yet always progressively de- 
veloping ; eternally living, yet always advancing from one stage of 
development to another, and toward the aim resting in the supreme 
and eternal. 

It is inexpressibly injurious to view the development and cultiva- 
tion of humanity as stationary, concluded, and at the present time 
only repeating itself in greater universality. For the child, as well as 
each following generation, becomes thus absolutely an imitating, an 
outwardly dead copy of the preceding one, but not a living model for 
the future, to futm-e generations, for the stage of development on which 
it stood in the totality of human development. Indeed, each follow- 
ing generation and each following individual man is to pass through 
the whole earlier development and cultivation of the human race, — 
and he does pass through it ; otherwise he would not understand the 
world past and present, — but not by the dead way of imitation, of 
copying, but by the living way of individual, free, active development 
and cultivation. Each man is to represent this development and culti- 
vation again freely, as a type to himself and to others ; for in each 
man, as a member of humanity and a child of God, is contained all 
humanity which is rej^resented by, and imprinted on, each in a quite 
peculiar, individual, personal way, and must be rejDresented in each 
individual man in this peculiar way ; so that the nature of mankind 
and of God in his infiniteness, and as comprising all manifoldness, 
may be more and more recognized, and more vividly and precisely 

Onl}' by this single creating and satisfying, all-embracing and 
comprehensive recognition of man, and insight into the nature of 
man, from which flows all that is further necessary to know for the 
fostering and education of man, — only by this view of man from the 
beginning, can the true, genuine education and fostering of man 
grow, blossom, bring forth fruit, and ripen. 

Section 17. 

From these premises proceeds simply, precisely, and sm*ely, all 
which parents have to do before and after the annunciation, — to be 


pure and clear in Mord and deed, filled and penetrated by the worth 
and dignity of the human being ; to view themselves as the keepers, 
protectors, and fosterers of a gift of God ; and to inform themselves 
concerning the vocation and destiny of man, the way in which, and 
the means by which, man attains his destiny and vocation. As now 
the vocation of the child as such is to develop and form the nature 
of the father and mother, the spuitual and intellectual nature, — for 
which the talents and the strength may lie in them as yet unknown 
and unanticipated, — in accord and harmony, so the destiny of man 
as a child of God and of Nature is to represent the nature of God and 
of Nature, the natural and the divine, the earthly and the heavenly, 
the finite and the infinite, in accord and harmony. As the destiny of 
the child as a memher of a family is to develop and represent the 
nature of the family, the talents and powers of the family in accord, 
all-sidedness, and clearness, so the destiny of man as a memher of 
humanity is to develop, cultivate, and represent the nature, the powers, 
and talents of all humanity. 

Section 18. 

But the children and members of a family as such develop and 
represent most purely and completely the nature of the parents and of 
the family — which nature may rest in the family, though as yet not at 
all recognized nor come out, even in anticipation — when each of the 
children and members develops and represents itself most comj)letely, 
clearly, and all-sidedly, and yet most individually and personally; 
and so also, men, as children of God and members of humanity, repre- 
sent most purely and completely the joint nature of God and humanity 
— which is in humanity, although by no means as yet generally rec- 
ognized and acknowledged — when each individual human being, each 
individual child, forms and represents itself most peculiarly and per- 
sonally. This is done when man develops and forms himself in the 
way, and in accordance with the law, by which all things develop 
and improve, have developed and improved, and which rules and 
obtains everywhere where being and existence, creator and created, 
God and Xature, are found ; when each man himself represents his 
nature in unity in itself, in individuality by any individual production 
outside of himself (principally and especially in clearness and com- 
pleteness), and in all manifoldness in all which is acted upon by him, 
by all which he does. But only in this threefold representation, which 


is 5^et in itself one and uniform, is the demonstration, manifestation, 
and consequently revelation, of the inner nature of each being com- 
plete. Where one side of this threefold representation is lacking, 
either in fact, or even only in recognition, insight, and acknowledg- 
ment, there is imperfect, incomplete representation, incomplete hin- 
dering insight. Only in this way does each thing become known 
and manifest in its unity according to its nature, and on all sides ; 
only the acknowledgment and application of this triple representation 
of each thing, if it is to completely make known and reveal its nature, 
lead to the complete representation of each thing, to true insight 
into its nature. 

Section 19. 

Therefore the child, the young human being, must, even from his 
birth, be received in accordance with his nature, rightly treated, and 
established in the free, all-sided use of his power. The use of some 
powers and members at the expense of others should not be pro- 
moted, nor should the latter be checked in their unfolding : the child 
should neither be partially chained, fettered, or swathed, nor later 
kept in leading-strings. The child should early learn to find his own 
centre of gravity, to rest in it ; resting in it to move, to move freely 
and to be active, to grasp things with his own hands and to hold them 
fast, to stand and walk on his own feet, to find and look at things 
with his own ej^es, and to use all his limbs equally and with equal 
strength. The child must early learn and practise the highest and 
most difficult of all the arts, — to hold fast the central point and point 
of reference of his life's path in spite of all disguises, distm^bances, 
and hindrances. 

Section 20. 

The first expression of the child is that of force. The intrusion 
of force calls forth opposing force : hence the first cry. of the child, 
hence his pushing with his feet against whatever resists them, hence 
his holding fast what his little hand touches. 

Soon after this, and accompanying it, develops the feeling of com- 
munity : hence his laughter, his well-being, his joyousness, his mova- 
bility in comfortable warmth, in clear light, and in pure, fresh air. 
This is the beginning of the child's becoming conscious of himself; 
and so the first expressions of the child are rest and unrest, pleasure 
and pain, laughing and crying. Rest, pleasure, and laughter indicate 


all which in the sensation of the child is suited to the pure, undis- 
turbed development of his human nature, of the child-life. The first 
educating, the development, elevation, and representation of life, must 
be connected with fostering and keeping pure the rest, pleasure, and 
laughter which are the indications of the child's nature. 

Unrest, pain, and crying indicate, when they first appear, all 
which is opposed to the development of man as a child. Following 
out these indications also, but in an opposite way, education must be 
connected with their workings ; efforts must be made to find out and 
remove their cause or causes. 

In the very first, but almost only in the veiy first, appearance of 
crying, unrest, weeping, all obstinacy and wilfulness are certainly 
foreign to the child ; but these feelings germinate as soon as there 
comes to the little being who has scarcely appeai'ed as a human plant 
— it is not yet proved in what way or in what degree — a feeling that 
it is wilfully, or from inattention or idleness, abandoned to what 
causes it unrest, and brings pain. 

Now, when the child is inoculated with this unhappy feeling, then 
is engendered the first and most hateful of all errors, — obstinacy, which 
threatens ruin to the child and to those w^ho are w^ith it, and w^hich 
is scarcely to be banished without injury to another better disposition 
in man, and which soon becomes the mother of dissimulation, lying, 
defiance, contumacy, and all later errors, as sad as they are hateful. 

But even in entering on the right way there may be mistakes in 
manner and form of action. 

Man is to be trained up, according to his nature and destiny, by 
the endm-ance of little, insignificant troubles, to the endm-ance of 
greater suffering and heavier burdens which threaten destruction. 
If, therefore, the parents and those who are around the child have the 
firm conviction that the crying, restless child has been provided with 
all it needs at the time, that every thing has been removed that is or 
can be prejudicial, then the parents not only can, but should, quietly 
and silently leave the crying, restless, even screaming child to itself, 
and calmly give it time to find itself ; for if the little being has once 
or repeatedly, by apparent suffering, and discomfort easy to be borne, 
extorted the sympathy and help of others, parents and those around 
the child have lost much, indeed almost every thing, whicli can scarcely 
be again regained by force ; for the little being has so fine a sense of 
the weakness of some of tliose who tend him, that he prefers to use 
the power originally living and acting in him in the easier way offered 

fou^ndation of the whole. 15 

him by the weakness of others, to rule them, rather than to represent 
and cnltivate this power in himself by his own patience, endurance, 
and action. At this stage, the future man is called a suckling, and is 
so in the fullest sense of the word ; for sucking in is as yet the almost 
only activity of the child ; (does he not suck in the condition of the 
human beings around him ?) and the before-named expressions, " cry- 
ing" and "laughing," remain as yet wholly within him, and as yet a 
direct, inseparable effect of that activity. 

Man at this stage takes in manifoldness only from without : his 
whole being is here only an appropriating eye. For this reason even 
this first stage of man's development is beyond all description impor- 
tant for man's present and future. It is highly important for his 
present and futm-e life, that at this stage he should absorb nothing 
diseased, low, vulgar, equivocal, in short, evil. Therefore the glance, 
the expression of face, of those around the child should be pure, firm, 
and sure, awakening and nourishing confidence. Even the surround- 
ings, however inadequate they may otherwise be, should be pure and 
clear, — pure air, clear light, clear space. 

For alas ! man often scarcely overcomes through his whole life that 
which he has absorbed in his childhood, the impressions of his youth, 
just because his whole being was, like a great eye, opened to these 
impressions, and abandoned to them. Often the hardest combats of 
man with himseK, even the later most adverse and oppressive events 
of his life, have in this stage of development their cause : therefore is 
the fostering of the infant so important. 

Mothers who have nursed some of then* children and not others, 
and who have observed both in the expressions of their later life, can 
decide on this subject with precision. Mothers also know that the 
first laughter of the child marks so precise a portion of time and 
development in the child's life, that it is at least the expression of the 
first physical discovery of individuality, if not far more than that. 
For this first child-laughter has its foundation, not only in a physical 
feeling of individuality, but also in a physical and yet higher common 
feeling, at first between mother and child, then with the father and 
other members of the family, later between brothers and sisters, all 
human beings and the child. 

Section 21. 

This first feeling of community which at first unites the child with 
mother, father, brothers, and sisters, at the foundation of which lies 


the higher spiritual union, with \yhich is later connected the indubi- 
table perception that father, mother, brothers, sisters, human beings, 
feel and recognize themselves in unity and union with a higher, 
with humanity and with God — this feeling of community is the most 
extreme germ, the most extreme point of all genuine religiousness, of 
all genuine effort for unhindered union with the eternal — with God. 
Genuine, true, living religion, abiding in danger and in combat, in 
oppression and in need, in pleasure and joy, must come to man in 
infancy ; for the divine, existent and manifest in the finite in man, 
is early conscious that it has proceeded from the divme, though with 
dim anticipation ; and this dim anticipation, this less than nebulous 
consciousness must be early fostered and strengthened and nourished 
in man, and later raised to consciousness. 

When the slumbering child is laid by its mother in its soft, safe 
crib, with an inward soulful glance up to his and her heavenly Father 
for fatherly protection and loving guidance, it therefore not only 
rouses the still and invisible observation of the child, but brings to it 
the eternal welfare and blessing. When the child has awakened with 
joyous laughter, and the mother takes it from the crib with a glad, 
silent, grateful glance to his and her Father for the rest and strength 
which he has sent, with lips moving with this gTatitude for the child 
thus presented to her anew, it is not merely arousing and highly 
delightful, but also important and rich in blessing for the whole pres- 
ent and future life of the child, and has the most beneficial influence 
for the w^hole time of the common life between child and mother 
which now follows. Therefore the genuine mother is not willing to 
allow any one else to bring to its crib the sleeping child, or to take 
from it the awakened child. The child so fostered by its mother is 
placed in its little crib well, in relation to its earthly, human, heavenly 
nature, if placed there with a prayer : by God's help man rests in God 
— the last point of reference as well as the first point of beginning. 

If parents desire to provide for their children this never wavering 
hold, this never vanishing point of reference, as the highest portion 
for life, then parents and child must show themselves always fer- 
vently inwardly and outwardly united when, in a quiet room or in the 
open air, they feel and recognize themselves in union with their God 
and Father in prayer. Xo one should ever say, " The children will not 
understand it," for this robs the children utterly of their highest life. 
They do understand it, and will understand it, if only they are not 
already run wild, if only they are not already too much estranged 


from themselves and from their parents : they understand it, not in 
idea, but in their inner nature. Religiousness, fervid living in God 
and with God in all conditions and circumstances of life, which does 
not thus grow up from childhood with man, is later only with extreme 
difficulty raised to full vigorous life ; as, on the contrary, a religious 
sense thus germinated and fostered amid all the storms and dangers 
of life will gain the victory. This is the fruit of the earlier and earli- 
est religious parental example, even though the child does not appear 
to notice or take it in ; and this is true of the living, parental example 
in every case. 

Section 22. 

It is highly important, not only in reference to the cultivation of 
the divine and religious in man, but for his entu'e cultivation, that his 
development should constantly advance from one point, and should be 
as constantly recognized and observed in its advance. It is essentially 
injurious, hindering, even destructive, when such sharp limits and 
separating opposition are made to the constantly continuing series of 
the years of human development, that the abidingly continuing and 
vividly connecting aim of life is wholly withdrawn from observation. 
It is therefore essentially injm-ious when the stages of human develop- 
ment — those of infant, child, boy and girl, youth and maiden, man and 
woman, old man and matron — are considered as essentially separate, 
and not, as life shows, continually passing into one another without 
gaps; it is much more injurious to consider the child, the bo}^, as 
something wholly different from the youth, the man, so different that 
the conception, the understanding, and the word of their common 
humanity scarcely shines through ; but this common humanity is 
almost wholly ignored in life and for life. And yet it is actually so, 
for one may observe how it is shown in common speech and life that 
the child, and boy even, are so wholly separate ; the later stages speak 
of the earlier as of something wholly different from them, something 
quite foreign to them ; the boy no longer sees the child in himself, and 
does not see the boy in the child ; the youth no longer sees the boy 
and child in himself, nor does he see the youth in either of these ; he 
superciliously overlooks, and turns away from them. But most harm- 
ful of all is, that man especially no longer perceives in himself the 
infant, the child, the boy, the youth, the earlier stages of develoi3ment, 
but rather speaks of the child, the boy, the youth, as of beings of a 
wholly different kind, with wholly different natures and qualities. 


This separating, disjoining opposition, this sharp defining of 
boundaries, which is founded upon the want of attention to the 
development and self-observation of one's own life early begun and 
constantly continuing, brings unspeakable evil, hindrance, and dis- 
turbance of the development and continued cultivation of the human 
race, which can be merely indicated, not elaborated. Suffice it to say, 
that singular, rare inner force is required to destroy the limits set 
from without upon the inward workings, which can only be done by 
a powerful leap, a forceful action, destroying, or at least disturbing 
and checking, other developments. All the life-expressions of a man 
with whom this has taken place at any stage retain, therefore, all 
through life, something violent. How wholly different it would be in 
every way, if the parents looked at and observed the child in refer- 
ence to all stages of human age and development, without overleaping 
and disregarding any ! How different it would be, if they especially 
observed that the vigorous and complete development and cultivation 
of each following stage rest upon the vigorous, complete, and indi- 
vidual development of each preceding stage of life! It is this par- 
ticularly, which parents so easily overlook, so often leave unnoticed. 
So they suppose and believe that man is a boy when he has attained 
the age of boyhood ; so they suppose the human being to be a youth 
or a man, when he has attained the youth or manhood : but just as 
little as the boy is a boy, and the youth a youth, just because he has 
attained the age of boyhood and youth, but is so because he has lived 
through his childhood, and later his boyhood, faithful to the require- 
ments of his soul, mind, and body, just as little is the man a man by 
reaching the age of manhood, but only because the requu'ements of 
his childhood, boyhood, and youth, have been faithfully fulfilled by 
him. Parents and fathers, in other respects very clear-sighted and 
capable fathers and parents, not only require that the child should 
show himself already as boy or youth, but they especially require that 
the boy should show himself as a man, that he should be like a man 
in all his manifestations, and so overleap the stages of boyhood and 
youth. Seeing and esteeming in the child and boy the germ, begin- 
ning, and outlines of the future man, is quite different from looking 
upon him already as a man, from requiring of the child and boy to 
show himself already as youth and man, to feel and think of himself 
as such, to act ai:u:l behave with this belief. Parents and fathers who 
require this, overlook and have forgotten the fact that they are almost 
always capable parents and fathers, and will become capable men. 


only in proportion as they have lived through and in accordance with, 
and in reference to, each of the stages of their nature, which, accord- 
ing to their requirements, the child is to overleaj). 

This view, and this undervaluing- of the earlier stages of develop- 
ment in reference to the later one (especially of the earliest), is what 
places such difficulties in the way of the future educator and teacher 
of the boy, — difficulties scarcely to be removed, since at once the boy 
thus placed also thinks that he can overleap each instruction of the 
earlier stage of development ; and it has an extremely injurious, weak- 
ening effect on him, if he is early given an aim toward which to 
strive, a something foreign to and outside of himself to imitate ; such 
as, for example, training for a certain profession, a certain sphere of 
action. The child, the boy, man in general, should have no other 
struggle than to be at each stage just what that stage requires. 
Then will each following stage sprout like a new shoot from a healthy 
bud, and man will, with the same effort, become perfectly what this 
stage requires ; for only the sufficing development of man acts in and 
upon each preceding and earlier stage, and engenders a satisfactory, 
complete development of each following later stage. 

Section 23. 

These ideas are specially important in regard to the development 
and cultivation of man's activity to the point of bringing forth out- 
ward results for practical industry. 

Man has now, indeed, a pervading, wholly false, outward, and 
therefore an untenable conception of work and industry, of activity 
for outward results ; that is, of practical work. 

This conception does not awaken and nourish life, still less does it 
bear within it a germ of life, and it is therefore oppressive, crushing, 
abasing, hindering, and destroying. 

God creates and works uninterruptedly and continually. Each 
thought of God is a work, an act, a result ; and each thought of God 
works with continuous creating power, producing and representing. 
"Whoever does not already perceive this fact, let him look at the life 
and work of Jesus ; let him look at the genuine life and work of 
man ; let him look — if he lives truly — at his own life and work. 

The spirit of God hovered over the unformed, and moved it; and 
stones and plants, animals and men, received form, figure, existence, 
and life. God created man m his own image, in the image of God 


created he him. Therefore man must create and work like God. 
Man's spirit must hover over the unformed, and move it, tliat figure 
and form may come forth. This is the high sense, the deep signifi- 
cance, the great object, of work and industry, of working and cre- 
ating, as it is truly and significantly called. 

We become like God by diligence and industry, by work and 
action, which accompany the clear idea, or even the slightest antici- 
pation, indeed only the direct, vivid feeling that we, by this diligence 
and activity, represent the internal externally ; give a body to the 
spiritual ; form to thought ; visibility to the invisible ; outward, 
finite, and transitory existence to the eternal that lives in the spirit ; 
and, by the likeness to God thus obtained, mount more and more 
to genuine recognition of God, to insight into the nature of God; 
and thus God comes nearer to us outwardly and inwardly There- 
fore Jesus said so truly of the poor, " Theirs is the kingdom of 
heaven," if they only do their work understandingly and knowingly, 
with diligence and industry, producing and creating. Of the chil- 
dren, also, is the kingdom of heaven, for they, with childlike trust, 
give themselves up willingly to the impulse toward formation and 
activity working within them, if not disturbed by the over-wisdom 
and presumption of adults. 

The lowering idea, the delusion that man works, produces, and 
creates, only in order to earn bread, house, and clothes, is to be only 
endured, not to be diffused and propagated. No ! man creates origi- 
nally and Actually, only that the spiritual and divine in him may 
take an external form, and that he may thus recognize his own 
spiritual, divine nature and the nature of God. The bread, house, 
and clothes coming to him through this working, producing, and 
creating, are a sm'plusage and insignificant additions. Therefore 
Jesus says, "Seek ye first the kingdom," that is, seek to represent 
the divine in your life and by means of your life, then every thing 
else which is required for the finite life will be added unto you. 
Therefore Jesus says, " My meat is to do the will of Him who sent 
me," — to produce, to create what God has given me in charge, and 
as he has given it to me. 

Therefore the lilies of the field, which according to human view 
do not toil, are clothed by God more splendidly than Solomon in 
all his glory ; for do not the lilies shoot forth leaves and blossoms ? 
do they not in all their phenomena declare and represent the nature 
of God? 


The fowls of the air sow not, they toil not, in the human idea; but 
do they not by each of their manifestations — by their singing, by their 
nest-building, by all their thousand different actions — represent the life 
which God has given them ? Therefore God feeds and keeps them. 

So shall man learn from the lilies of the field, from the fowls of the 
air, always to make known outwardly the nature God has given him, 
by deed and work, form and material, in the way required by time and 
place, position and calling, be it at the moment as small and insignifi- 
cant, or as great and important, as it will. And then shall he be sure 
of his maintenance. God will show him a hundred ways; he will 
certainly find each time a means, a way of satisfying his earthly needs 
by the use of his soul-powers in himself and outside of himself, and 
more is not requisite. And if every thing external should pass away, 
there would remain to him — not only uncurtailed, but increased — the 
developed, divine power to make the need vanish by endurance. 

But because an order of time, a gradual succession, limits all spir- 
itual workings in the finite, it is inviolably necessary that when man 
at any time of his life — be it near or far, early or late — has let slip an 
opportunity to outwardly prove his power to be a divine powder, and 
to elevate it to a work, or at least to unfold it for w^ork, he meets at 
some time with a deficiency which is a deficiency in proportion to his 
neglected opportunities for developing his power. At least it will not 
be to him at any time W'hat it could have been if he had always faith- 
fully followed out his vocation, the use of his powder as a divine 
power ; for, according to the earthly and universal laws iflfder which 
we live, there must come a time in which the product of that neglected 
activity should have appeared. Now^, if the activity was neglected, 
how can the product come? AYhen this deficiency appears at any 
time, there is nothing left for man but to let the second side of his 
soul-power, that of resignation and endurance, come into action, and 
so make the deficiency disappear, and to strive most zealously to avoid 
by efficiency any such deficiency for the future. 

There is, then, a double cause, a twofold inalienable requirement, 
an inner and an outer, and, since the former includes the latter, a 
highly important perpetual requirement that the budding and grow- 
ing man be early developed to activity in outside work, in producing; 
and this is called for by the nature of man. 

The activity of the baby's limbs and senses is the first germ, the 
first bodily activity, the bud, the first impulse to formation ; play, 
building, forming are the first tender blossoms of youth, and at this 



point man must be fructified for future industry, diligence, and prac- 
tical activity. There is no child, and later no boy and youth, whatever 
may be his rank or position, who should not daily devote at least one 
or two hours of earnest activity to the production of some definite 
outside work. Children now learn and do too much of the unformed 
and formless, and too little work, although the learning by work is 
immeasurably more impressive and comprehensible, and causes a more 
living, continuous development in itself and in the children. Children 
and parents consider the activity of actual work so much to then- own 
prejudice, and so unimportant for their future position, that educa- 
tional institutions must steadfastly endeavor to put a stop to these 
notions. The present home education, as well as the school educa- 
tion, leads the children to bodily inactivity and laziness in respect to 
work : an immense amount of human power remains thus undevel- 
oped, and an immense amount is wholly lost. It would be extremely 
beneficial if hours of actual work were introduced, as well as the 
present hours of instruction ; and it must yet come to that, for man, 
by the unmeaning use of his human power, determined only by the 
outward, has lost the inner and outer proportion of this power, and 
so has lost the recognition, the estimation, and the true consideration, 
of this power. 

Highly important as is early training for religion, the early training 
for actual working is equally important. Early work guided suitably 
to its inner meaning confirms and heightens religion. Religion 
without work runs the risk of becoming empty dreaming, passing- 
enthusiasm, and an evanescent phantom, as work without religion 
makes man a beast of burden or a machine. Work and religion were 
simultaneously created by God, — the Eternal of eternity. AVere this 
recognized, were men impressed with the truth of it, if they would 
act and work in conformity to it, to what a stage the race of man 
would soon be raised ! 

But human power should not merely be quiescent, as religion and 
religiousness; should not merely show itself outwardly, as industry and 
labor; but it should, withdrawing into itself, resting on itself, develop, 
form, produce, and in the latter case should show itself as discretion, 
temperance, and moderation. AVhat is here more necessary for the 
man not wholly estranged than to indicate this fact? — where the 
true, unseparated, inward three work in genuine, original union, where 
religion, industry, and moderation work in harmony, there is heaven 
upon earth, there is peace, joy, salvation, grace, and blessing. 


So man in the child regarded as a whole, so the life of humanity 
and man in childhood viewed as a unity, so the whole future efficiency 
of man, is seen in the child as a germ. And so it must be : man, 
in order that he and humanity in him may be wholly developed, must 
be viewed, even in the child, in the totality of the earthly references 
and in unity. But since all unity demands individualities, and all 
all-sidedness demands .conditions and makes necessary a sequence, so, 
also, the world and life develop to the child only as individualities, 
and in sequence. So, also, the powers, qualities, and inclinations of 
man, the activity of his limbs and senses, should be developed in 
the necessary succession in which they come forth in the child. 

Part II. 


Section 24. 

To the child, the outside world, though consistiug of the same 
objects, having the same community of members, appears to come 
out from the void at first in misty, formless darkness, in chaotic 
confusion, the child and outer vi^orld floating therein ; and then the 
objects come forth out of this void, this mist, especially by the word 
early interposed by the parents, by the mother, first separating the 
child from the outer world, then again uniting him with it. Single 
words are at first seldom interposed, but finally more often and in 
a greater variety, and thus the child comes out at last as a decidedly 
separate object, quite different from all others. 

So repeats itself in the mind and spirit, in the history of the 
spiritual develoj^ment, in the history of the attained consciousness of 
the human being, in each child, in the experience of each child from 
its birth onward, the history of the development and creation of all 
things as told by the sacred books, up to the jDoint where the man 
at last appears, and finds himself in the garden of God, in the beauti- 
ful nature Ij^ing open before the child ; as later is repeated in each 
child, according to its Nature, the same act with which the moral 
and human enfranchisement and rationality begins, as the moral 
and human enfranchisement, the rationality of the whole human 
race, began, and necessarily, for beings created for freedom, must 

It is left to each individual, especially to each one who is heedful 
of his development, to recognize, contemplate, and comprehend all 
this, the whole history of the development of the human race, up to 
the point at which it now stands, or up to the definite point in itself. 


But, that he may be able to do so, each man is called on to recognize 
and consider, early and always, his own life and the lives of others 
as a continuous whole, developing according to divine laws. Only 
in such a way does man understand history, the history of human 
development and the history of his own development, the history of 
his own heart, mind, and sx^irit ; thus only does he understand others ; 
thus only do jDarents understand their child. 

Section 25. 

To make the internal external, to make the external internal, to 
find the unity for both, is the general outward form in which is 
expressed the destiny of man. Therefore every outside object meets 
man with the demand to be recognized, and to be acknowledged in 
its nature, in its connection. For this purpose man possesses senses, 
that is, tools by means of which he meets that demand, which is also 
exhaustively and satisfactorily indicated by the word s-inn (sense) 
that is, self-active, making eternal. 

But each thing is recognized only when it is connected with the 
opposite of its kind, and when the union, accord, similitude with this 
object, are found; and the connection with the opposite, and the 
discovery of the uniting, renders the recognition so much the more 

Section 26. 

The objects of the outer world appear to man in a more solid, or 
more liquid, or more gaseous condition. In correspondence with this, 
man finds himself gifted with senses by which to perceive the more 
solid, the more liquid, and the more gaseous objects. 

But each object again appears more at rest or more in motion. 
Corresponding to this, each of the senses is again divided into two 
quite different organs, — the one effecting more the recognition of 
objects at rest, the other, on the contrary, those in motion ; so that 
therefore the sense for the gaseous is divided between the organs of 
hearing and seeing ; the sense for the liquid, between the organs of 
tasting and smelling ; the sense for the solid, between the organs 
of feeling and touch. 

According to the law of the recognition of things through their 
opposites, the sense of hearing first develoj^s in the child, and later 
the sense of sight, guided, limited, and incited by the hearing ; by 


which development of these two senses in the child it is first made 
possible to the parents and those who surround it to connect the 
objects with their opposite, the u'07'd, and then with the shoicing^ so 
as to make them, as it were, at one with each other, and so to lead tJi^ 
child to perception, and later to recognition thereof. 

Section 27. 

The use of the body and limbs develops at the time with, and in 
the same proportion as, the increasing development of the senses, and 
in an order conditioned in the nature of the child, and in the proper- 
ties of the corporal world. 

The objects of the outer world are more near, more quiescent, and 
therefore invite rest ; or they are more moving, withdrawing, and 
therefore invite grasping and firm holding, that they may be appro- 
priated ; or they are connected with fixed, distant places or spaces, 
and actually through their remoteness, as in the former case by their 
movement, call upon him who would bring them nearer to move 
toward them, and to move them to him. 

So the use of the limbs develops the sitting and lying, the grasp- 
ing and clinging, the moving and springing. 

Standing is a totality of all use of the limbs and body, and, indeed, 
the most complete totality : it is the finding of the centre of gravity of 
the body. 

The bodily standing is just as significant for this stage as the 
laughter, the physical discovery of self, was for the earlier stage, and 
as the moral and religious standing is for the last stage, of human 
development. At this stage of development, the future man only 
depends upon the use of his body, his senses, and his limbs, purely 
for use and exercise, but not on account of what proceeds from and 
by means of this use of body, limbs, and senses. The child is quite 
indifferent to this, or, more accurately speaking, has no anticipation 
of it. Hence the child's play with its limbs, its little hands, fingers, 
its lips, its tongue, its little feet, but also with its eyes and face, which 
begins at this stage. 

At first, indeed, as has just been said, there is no representation of 
the inner by the outer at the foundation of this play with face and 
limbs, and this first actually appears at the following stage of devel- 
opment. Yet these plays are first given for observation and con- 
firmation, so that the child may not accustom itself to movements 


of the body, and especially of the face, without any inner cause, — as, 
for instance, rolling the eyes, and twisting the mouth, — and thus slip 
into a separation between gesture and feeling, between body and spirit, 
between the external and the internal, which either leads to dissimu- 
lation, or causes the body to assume movements and habits which 
later become no longer subject to the will, can never be laid aside, 
and accompany man through his whole life as a mask. 

Therefore children must, from an early age, never be left on the 
bed or in the cradle too long, without some object for their activity : 
this caution will also prevent bodily effeminacy ; and bodily effemi- 
nacy produces, and necessarily conditions, spiritual effeminacy and 

That this bodily effeminacy may be avoided, the child's bed 
should from the beginning be less soft. It should consist, tliere- 
fore, of pillows of hay, sea-grass, fine straw, chaff, or at most horse- 
hair, but not of feathers. So, also, the child should be but lightly 
covered while asleep, and should be exposed to the influence of the 
pure air. 

To avoid the evil of leaving the child before sleeping, and espe- 
cially after w^aking, on its bed with nothing to occupy it, it is advisa- 
ble to hang up a cage wdth a bird in it in the natural line of vision 
of the child. This attracts the activity of the child's senses and mind, 
and affords nourishment to this activity in many ways. 

Section 28. 

With the developed activity of the child's senses, body, and limbs, 
at the point where the child begins to represent the internal outwardly 
by its own action, the infant stage of the development of man ends, 
and the stage of childhood begins. 

Up to this stage, the inner nature of man is still an unmembered 
unity, void of manifoldness. 

With the entrance of speech begins the expression and represen- 
tation of the inner nature of man ; with this begins the separation of 
man's inner nature into its component parts, — the manifoldness of 
means and aim. The inner nature of man becomes separated into 
its component parts, and strives to manifest itself outwardly. Man 
strives by his own power, manifested by independent action, to repre- 
sent and to form his inner natm-e outwardly by means of that which 
is fixed. 


With the stage of childhood — with this stage of making the inner 
nature visible by means of the outward, and of seeking and striving 
for the union of both, for the unity which connects both — begins the 
actual education of man, by lessened physical, but increased spiritual 
fostering and care. 

But the education of man is at this stage committed wholly to the 
father, the mother, the family, with whom he naturally makes up 
an unpieced, unseparated whole. For the means of representation, 
speech (considered only in its audible manifestation as speaking) is 
at this stage wholly unseparated from man. Indeed, he as yet does 
not at aU know and recognize it as something individual : it is one 
with him, like his arm, his eye, his tongue, without his knowing any 
thing more of it. 

Section 29. 

No rule can be fixed and determined in regard to the greater or 
less importance of the different stages of formation and development 
of man except the necessary order of their appearance, according to 
which the earliest is always the most important. Each is of like 
importance in its place and at its time. Yet this stage of childhood 
is highly important, because it contains the development of the first 
connection and union of the child with those who surround it and 
with the surrounding world ; because it is the first stage of interpreta- 
tion, understanding, and comprehension of its inner nature. 

This stage is important ; for the manner in which the outer world 
appears to the unfolding man — whether as noble, or ignoble, low and 
dead ; whether as a thing only for the use, waste, destruction, and 
enjoyment of others, or as a high, living, spiritual, and divine thing ; 
whether it appears to him as clear or obscure, as ennobling and 
elevatmg, or as depressing and debasing ; whether he see and recog- 
nize things in true or inverted relations — is a matter of high impor- 

Therefore the child should at this stage view every thing rightly ; 
and also rightly, precisely, and clearly designate the things and 
objects themselves, as well as their nature and their properties. 

He should rightly designate the relations of the objects to space 
and time, as well as to each other ; should designate each by the right 
name, by the right word ; and should denote each word clearly and 
purelj^, according to its elements, voice-soimds, and open and closed 


But since this stage of development requires that man as a child 
should clearly, correctly, and purely designate every thing, it is there- 
fore essentially necessary that all his surroundings should be brought 
before him correctly, clearly, and purely, that he may perceive and 
recognize all in the same manner. These two requirements are 
inseparable, and reciprocally condition each other. 

As speech is as yet one with the speaking human being, at this 
stage also the language and designation by speech of the speaking 
child coincide with the object to be designated; that is, the child 
cannot yet separate w^ord and thing, any more than corporal and 
spiritual, body and soul. They are as yet one and the same to him. 
This is shown especially by the play of children at this time : the 
child expresses itself by play willingly, and, if it can, often. 

Play and sj^eaking form the element in which the child now lives. 
Therefore, also, the child at this stage of human development imparts 
to each thing capacities for life, feeling, and speech, and believes that 
each thing can hear. Just because the child begins to represent his 
inner nature outwardly, he supposes like activity in every thing else 
around him, be it a stone, a bit of M^ood, a plant, a flow^er, or an 

And so at this stage the child develops his life in himself, his life 
with his parents and his family, life with a higher, invisible Power 
common to him and to them, and also especially his life in and wdth 
N'ature as bearing within it a life like his own. Life in and with 
Nature, and with the clear, still objects of Nature, must be fostered at 
this time by the parents and members of the family as a chief point 
of reference of the whole child-life. And this is done especially 
through play, through the fostering of child-play, which in the begin- 
ning is only natural life. 

Section 30. 

Play. Play is the highest stage of the child's development at this 
time ; for it is freely active representation of the inner, the representa- 
tion of the inner from the need of the inner itself. 

Play is the purest, the most spiritual, product of man at this stage, 
and is at once the prefiguration and imitation of the total human 
life, — of the inner, secret, natural life in man and in all things. It 
produces, therefore, joy, freedom, satisfaction, rej)ose within and with- 
out, peace with the w^orld. The springs of all good rest within it and 
go out from it. A child who plays capably, spontaneously, quietly, 


enduriiigiy, even to the point of bodily fatigue, becomes certainly also 
a capable, quiet, enduring man, self-sacrificingly promoting his own 
and others' weKare. Is not the most beautiful phenomenon of child- 
life the playing child at this period of his life, the child wholly 
absorbed in his play, the child ^vho has dropped asleep while absorbed 
in 23lay ? 

The play at this period is, as has already been indicated, not 
trivial, but has great earnestness and deep significance. Foster, 
nourish it, mother ! Protect, guard it, father ! The f utm-e inner life 
of the child is revealed to the calm, penetrating gaze of one who has 
a genume knowledge of human nature in the child's plays chosen 

The plays of this age are the buds of the whole future life ; for the 
whole man shows himself in them in his finest qualities, in his inner 
sense. The whole future life of man has its fount in this space of 
time, whether this future life be clear or clouded, gentle or boisterous, 
moving quietly or violently, industrious or lazy, rich or poor in action, 
dully staring or clearly perceiving, forming or destroying, bringing 
harmony or discord, war or peace. Allowing for the child's indi- 
vidual and natural qualities, his future relations to father and mother, 
to his family, to his fellow-citizens and to man, to Natm-e and to God, 
depend especially on his manner of life at this age ; for the child's life 
in and with himself, in and with his family, in and with Xatm-e and 
God, rests here as yet wholly in a unity. So the child at this age 
scarcely knows which he likes best, — the flowers, or his own pleasure 
in them, or the pleasure he gives his mother, his parents, when he 
brings the flowers to them, or the dim anticipation of the dear Giver. 

Who can separate into their component parts the joys in which 
this age is so rich ? 

If the child is injured in this age, if the buds of the future tree of 
his life are injured, then will the child, only with the greatest difii- 
culty and the most extreme effort, grow into strong, mature life; 
only with the greatest difficulty will he insure himself from being 
stunted, or at least from becoming one-sided, in the com'se of devel- 
opment and training. 

Section 31. 

In these years of childhood the child's food and means of nourish- 
ment are pre-eminently important, not only for the life of the child at 
that time, — for the child can be made lazy or active, inert or ener- 


getic, dull or bright, \Yeak or vigorous in life, by his food, — but for 
his whole future life. For the impressions, inclinations, strong 
desires, which the child has received by his food ; the turn which has 
thus been given to his senses, indeed, to his actual life ; the turn 
given to the activities of his life, can with difficulty be laid aside 
even by the future self-dependent man. They are one with his whole 
bodily life, and so, also, have grown with his spiritual life, at least 
with his sensations and feelings. 

Therefore let the first food of the child after his mother's milk 
be simple and plain, not artificial and manufactured, especially not 
alluring and exciting to the appetite by being highly spiced, nor fat, 
that the activity of the inner organs may not be impeded. As a 
general truth from which each particular precept proceeds, parents 
and nurses should always say to themselves that man in the future 
will be happier and stronger, more truly creative on every side, in 
proportion as the means of life and bodily needs among, in, and with 
which man as a child grew up, were simple and moderate, suitable to 
the unpampered nature of man. 

Who does not often see in the child, over-excited by too highly- 
spiced or immoderate food, desires of a very low kind, from which it 
can never be freed? — desires which, though they may seem suppressed, 
only slumber, to return with greater power when opportunity offers, 
and threaten to destroy all the dignity of man, to snatch him away 
from his duty. 

If parents would only consider that not only much future indi- 
vidual, personal happiness, but even much domestic and family 
happiness, even the welfare of the citizen, depends on the food, 
how very different would be their management of the child ! 

But here is the silly mother, there the childish father ; and we 
see poison upon poison given to the children in all forms and kinds, 
coarse and fine : in the one case, through the oppressive quantity, 
given only to drive away the ennui of which the unemployed child 
complains ; in the other case, through over-refined food, which 
excites the bodily, physical life, without spiritual, genuine life- 
conditions, and thereby exerts an enervating and weakening effect 
upon the body. In the one case, bodily sluggishness and indolence 
are considered as rest, which is to be permitted to the child : in the 
other case, the bodily mobility of the child, unconnected with spirit- 
ual, genuine life-influences, the result of over-excitement, is regarded 
as genuine increase of life, as true life-development. 


The promotion and confirmation of tlie welfare, happiness, and 
health of the liuman race, are far more simple than we think. All 
the means are easy and near to us, but we do not perceive them: 
we see them, indeed, but we do not consider them. They seem to us 
too trifling in their simplicity, naturalness, easy applicability, and 
nearness : we despise them. We seek help from afar, while we alone 
can help ourselves. 

Therefore, later, our ability, whether partially or fully intended, 
does not reach to the point of making our children what we, with 
greater insight and clearer view, must recognize as their best, what 
now does not come to them at all, at least does not come purely 
and full}^, and what would have come to them of itself — not if we 
had paid a trifle more attention to tliem in their childhood ; no, 
no — what would have come to them in tlieir childhood if we had 
expended considerably less for their bodily tendance. 

Would that to each young, newly-married pair might be comniu- 
cated even one of the sad experiences and appearances in its small, 
simple, and apparently insignificant foundation, and in its incalcula- 
ble results, which strive to destroy all the good of later education! 
Would that there could be communicated to them in its vividness, 
even one of these sad experiences of which the educator is obliged 
to make hundreds, the knowledge of which can assist him but little 
to make these phenomena harmless in the later life in w^liich he 
remarks them ; for who does not know the mighty powers of the 
impressions of youth? 

It is easy at the earlier stage to avoid the wrong ; it is easy to find 
the right. The food should be only means of nourishment, never 
more nor less. The food should never be an object in itself, but 
only a means of promoting the activity of body and soul ; still less 
should the qualities of the food, its taste and delicacy, be an object 
in themselves, but only a means conditioned by the object of being 
a proper, pure, wholesome means of nourishment, else in both cases 
the food will have a prejudicial effect on the health. 

The nourishment of the child should therefore be the simplest 
which can be provided, and should be given to it in a quantity 
proportioned to its bodily and mental activity. 


Section 32. 

But that the child may be able to move and play, develop and 
form himself, freely, and unhindered in mind and bodj^, his clothing- 
also should be neither pressing nor binding; for such clothing will 
also press and bind the mind of man. The clothing, in this as well 
as in the following age, should never be cramping, for the same 
effect which it has on the body it will have on the mind and soul of 
the child. The form, color, and fashion of the clothing should never 
be an aim in itself, for that will make the child superficial and frivo- 
lous, a doll instead of a child, a puppet instead of a human being. 
The clothing, therefore, is by no means unimportant for the child or 
for the later man, as, in like manner, it is by no means unimportant 
for Christians to be able to say, " The work and life of Jesus were, 
like his coat, without piece or seam, a continuous whole ; as is also 
his teaching." 

Section 33. 

Therefore the aim and object of the tendance of the child by 
father and mother in the family circle is to awaken and develop, to 
incite the whole power, the whole disposition, of the human being, 
to bring out the capability of all his limbs and organs, and to be 
able to satisfy the demands of his disposition and powers. 

Without any teaching, without any demands, without any learn- 
ing, the natural mother does this spontaneously ; but that is not 
enough : it is necessary, besides, that she should do it as a conscious 
being, and as acting upon a being who is becoming conscious ; lead- 
ing consciously, with a certain conscious coherence, to the continuous 
develoi)ment of man. 

Therefore, placing before her what she has unconsciously done 
according to its nature, its significance, and its connection, may bring 
her to consciousness. True, the most simple mother could do this ; 
but observing mothers could do it still more truly, completely, and 
deeply: yet through incompleteness man mounts to completeness. 
So this bringing forward the mother's work may awaken true, silent, 
thoughtful, and reasonable parental love, and bring us to an insight 
and consciousness of the course of development in our childhood in 
an entire presentation of its expressions. 

"Give your little arm here," "Where's your little hand?" says 
the training mother, seeking to bring forward, and to make the child 


anticipate, tlie manifoldness of his body and the variety of its 

" Bite yom' little finger." This is especially a method of action 
rightly guided by the deep, natural feeling of the thoughtful and 
childlike jesting mother, in order to lead the child to the perception 
and knowledge of a particular object which is yet united with him- 
self, and to lead the child already to the earliest phenomena of 
future reflection. 

Not less important is the lovely, playful, jesting manner in which 
the mother leads the child to the knowledge of the members which 
are not seen nor looked at by him, — the nose, the ears, the tongue, the 

The mother pulls softly the child's nose or ear, as if she would 
separate it from the head or face, and says, showing him the half- 
hidden finger-tip, " There, I have the ear — the little nose " ; and the 
child grasps quickly for ear and nose, and laughs joyously to feel 
them both still in their places. 

This treatment of the mother in the beginning incites the child 
to brin^ to his knowledge every thing, even if he cannot outwardly 
see and perceive it. 

All this has the object of bringing the child, as a boy, at some 
time to consciousness of himself, to reflection, to reflection about him- 
self ; as a ten-year-old boy in charge of a teacher, and in like manner 
led from a sense of iN'ature, said to himself when, as he thought, 
unobserved, " I am not my arm ; I am not my ear, either ; I can 
separate all my limbs and organs of sense from myself, and I remain 
always myself: who am T then actually? who or what is then actu- 
ally this thing which I call I?" 

In like spirit the mother-love continues to act and speak with the 
little one when she says, '' Show me your little tongue," " Show me 
your little teeth," " Bite with your little teeth," in order thus imme- 
diately to lead him to the use of them. 

"Put your little foot in " — in the stocking, in the shoe; "There 
is the little foot " — in the stocking, in the shoe. 

So the mother's love and thoughtfulness gradually brings his 
little outer world before the child, advancing from the undivided to 
the separate, from the near to the far. And as she tried in this way 
to bring the little one to perceive objects by themselves and in their 
relations to space, so she soon also brings to the child's knowledge 
their properties, and naturally, first of all, the effects of these proper- 


ties, first in their quiescent state. " The light burns," and the 
mother draws the child's finger toward the light, so that he may feel 
its fire without actually burning himself, in order to guard him from 
the unknown danger ; or " The knife pricks," says the careful 
mother, gently pressing the point of the knife against the child's 
finger ; " The soup is hot, it burns," setting before the child the 
permanence, the existing, of the acting property, or its cause. 

" The knife is pointed ; it is sharp ; it pricks ; it cuts ; let it 

From the recognition of the effect, the mother leads the child to 
the quiescent, abiding cause, the quiescent, abiding property, — sharp, 
j)ointed, — and later from the knowledge of the quiescent property 
to its effects, — pricking, cutting, — without his experiencing its full 
effect on himself. 

Further : the mother brings to the child its own handling of the 
same ; at first for feeling, later for perceiving. 

So the mother, conveying delightful instruction in all her doings 
and by the constant connection of word and deed, says to the child 
when it is to take food, " Open your little mouth " ; when washing it, 
" Shut your little eyes." Or the mother teaches the child to recognize 
the object of his management : in this sense the mother says, when 
she lays the child on its bed, " Sleep, sleep " ; or, when she puts the 
food to his mouth in a spoon, " Eat, baby." And in order to call his 
attention to the effect of the food on the organ of taste to the relation 
of the food to the body, she says, " That tastes good." In order to 
call his attention to the odor of the flowers, the mother makes the 
sound of smelling, and says, "That smells good; smell of it, my 
child " ; or, on the contrary, turns away her face with an expression 
of disgust from the flowers, which she takes away from the child. 

So the simplest mother, who almost bashfully withdraws into 
privacy with her darling (in order not to let unhallowed eyes dwell 
upon this blessedness) strives in the most natural manner to bring 
the child into the full activity of its mind and senses. 

Alas ! we, through our conceitedness, lose sight of this natural and 
divine point of departure for all human development; we stand 
helpless, having lost the right direction by losing the points for 
beginning and ending. Renouncing God and Nature, we seek 
counsel from human cleverness and human wit. We build card- 
houses ; but the management of Mother Nature finds no place, divine 
influences no room ; and the slightest indication of the child, moved 


by the pleasure and stress of life, throws our building into heaps. 
If it stands, the cHild must become fettered, if not spiritually, then 
physically. Whither has a word brought us ? 

Into the nursery of those learned in w^ords, the so-called cultivated 
people, who scarcely believe that there is any thing in the child which, 
if it is to exist, must necessarily be early developed, who still less 
know that all that the child is at some time to be and to become lies 
in him, though as yet in so slight a degree, and if it is to come to him, 
can necessarily only do so if developed from him. 

Therefore how dead, how cold, is every thing here ! or, at best, 
what screaming and lamenting there is ! 

But is not the mother then here ? 

Oh, it is not the mother's room, it is only the nm'sery (the chil- 
dren's room). 

Come, let us go again where not only the mother's and children's 
room, but even the mother and child, are still one, where only with 
unwillingness does the mother give up her child to the care of stran- 
gers. Let us see and hear how the mother there brings objects in their 
motion before the child, saying, " Hark ! the birdie peeps " ; " The 
dog says ' bow-wow.' " And now, leading from the expression to the 
name, from the development of the sense of hearing to the develop- 
ment of the sense of sight, she says, "Where is the peeping birdie?" 
" Where is the bow-wow ? " 

The mother even goes so far as to lead from the connected percep- 
tion of the object and its property to the single perception of the 
property itself. " The bii'die flies," says the mother, in speaking of 
the real bird which is flying. " See the birdie ! " says the mother at a 
later period to the child, referring to the wavering, unstable point of 
light caused by the reflection of a mirror or a movable sm-face of 

In order now to lead the child to perceive that this is an immaterial 
phenomenon, having its motion only in common with the bird, the 
mother says, " Catch the birdie," giving the child the opportunity of 
putting its hands over the point of light. Or, in order to lead the 
child to perceive the movement itseK, and nothing else, the mother 
says, " Bim, bom," in reference to the pendulum motion of any thing 
linear, or " To, fro." 

In a similar way the mother tries to call the child's attention to 
the change in things ; for example, pointing to the light, " There is 
the light, there is the light " ; taking it away, " The light is gone " ; 
or, '""■■ " " " 


Or, calling its attention to the voluntary motion of things, " Come, 
kitty, come to my child ; " " Kitty runs away." 

So she incites the activity of the child's body and limbs by saying, 
" Hold the flower," " Catch the kitty," or, while she slowly rolls the 
ball, " Catch the ball." 

The all-embracing mother-love seeks to awaken and make clear 
the common feeling so important between the child and its father and 
brothers and sisters by saying, " Stroke the dear father ; " or, while 
she strokes the child's own hand over its father's cheek, "Dear 
father," or " Stroke little sister," and again saying, "Dear sister," etc. 

Beside the feeling of community, the egg from which such glorious 
things develop, the mother-love, the all-comprising motherly thought- 
fulness, tries also to bring the child to feel life in itself through motion, 
and, which is especially important, through regular, measured, rhyth- 
mical sounds. 

So the genuine, natural mother slowly and on all sides follows 
the progressive, all-sided, regnant life in the child; strengthens it, 
and thus awakens increasingly the more all-sided life as yet deej)ly 
slumbering in the child, and develops that also. 

Others suppose a void in the child, wish to inoculate him with 
life, making him as empty as they believe him to be, and giving him 
death. And so this simple, natural guidance to the develo]3ment of 
the rhythmic, legitimate linking of all human expressions of life as 
a means of cultivation in speech and musical tone is so wholly lost 
because its importance is recognized by few, and still fewer retain it, 
and further develop the human being in accordance with it, and 
connect with it the more extended development of man. 

And therefore the piire, early development of rhythmic, legitimate 
motion, would be highly beneficial in the next and later stages of the 
whole life of the child and man. We take a great deal upon our- 
selves as educators, in reference to the child as a pupil and a human 
being, in so soon withdrawing in early training the rh}i;hmic, meas- 
ured movement in accordance with the laws of develoxmient. 

The child would more easily comprehend the legitimate, suitable 
proportion of his life, if this rhythmic movement were retained. 
Much wilfulness, incongruity^, and roughness would disappear from 
life, action, and movement. More just proportion and moderation5 
more harmony, would come into life, and later a more impressive 
sense of Xature and art, music and poetry, would be developed. 

Also the singing by quite small chikben when they are quiet, or 


esx")ecially ^Yllen they are going to sleep, has not been nnremarked by 
the careful, thinking mother, and should be yet more observed and 
developed by those who have the charge of children, as the first germ 
of future development in inelody and song. There would certainly 
soon be shown here such independent activity on the part of the 
children as is shown in speech when children, with the capacity for 
speech thus developed and later appearing, meet with words as the 
designation of new conceptions, and peculiar connections, and rela- 
tions of properties not yet remarked. 

So quite a little girl, who had been brought up in a pm-ely child- 
like way, gmded by her mother, after long and thoughtfully feeling of 
and looking at the leaves of a plant covered with a strong, soft down, 
exclaimed joyfully to her mother, "Oh, how woolly! " 

The mother was not conscious that she had ever called the child's 
attention to such a prox:)erty. 

So this child saw the two most brilliant planets just as they were 
standing very near each other in the sky in a clear, starlight night. 
" Father and mother stars ! " cried the child joyously, without the 
mother's being in the least able to say how this connection with and 
application to the stars had been awakened in the child. 

Section 34. 

Neither crutches nor leading-strings should be employed to induce 
the child to stand or run. He should stand when he has the power to 
keep his balance spontaneously and independently, and should Avalk 
when he can independently keep his balance while spontaneously 
moving forward. He should not stand before he can sit upright, 
and draw himself up by means of some tall object standing near him, 
and so finally keep his balance without support. He should not walk 
till he can creep and raise himself voluntarily, keep his balance, and, 
keeping it, go forward. At first, Avhen he has spontaneously risen to 
his feet at some distance from his mother, he will be prompted to 
walk that he may return to her lap. But soon the child feels the 
power in his OAvn feet, and now for his own pleasure repeats the 
newly-learned art, just for the sake of walking, as he did before with 
the art of standing. A short time more, and without his knowledge 
he exercises the art of feeling ; and now he is charmed with the 
variegated, round, smooth pebble, the gay-colored, fluttering bit of 
paper. The smooth, symmetrical, triangular or quadrangular bit of 


board, piece of ^YOod ; the rectangular bricks which he can build upon, 
and by the side of each other ; the sheet of paper, attractive by its 
form, its color, its shine, its composition, — all charm him, and he seeks 
to appropriate to himself such things by the newly-acquired use of his 
limbs; seeks to bring like things together, and to separate unlike 
things from each other. See the child who can scarcely hold itself 
upright, and so can only go forward with great caution : he sees a 
grain of rice, a bit of straw ; he labors hard to get it, as a bird does in 
the spring to carry it to his nest. See the child stoop with difficulty 
under the drip of the roof, and move slowly away. The force of the rain 
falling from the roof has washed up some little smooth-colored stones, 
and the all-observant gaze of the child sees them as stones, as mate- 
rials for future building, and he collects them for that purpose. 

And is he wTong? Is it not actually so? Does not the child collect 
materials for his future life-building? In that building, like things 
will be grouped, unlike things separated : man is to put together, not 
that which is rough, but what has been deprived of roughness. 

Section 35. 

If the building is to be suitable, each material must be fully known, 
not only by its name, but also by its properties and its use ; and that 
the child desires this is shown to us by his childlike, quiet, eager acts. 
We call it " childish " because we do not understand it, because we 
have no eyes to see, no ears to hear, and still less feeling to feel, 
with the child : we are therefore dead — the life of the child is dead 
to us. We cannot make it clear to ourselves : how, then, can we make 
it clear to the child ? And yet this is the yearning that attracts the 
child to us. How can we give language to the objects of the child's 
life when they are dumb to us ? And yet this is the innermost long- 
ing with which the child brings his store to us in his little fast-closed 
hands, and lays it in our lap, as if, thus w^armed, it w^ould give him 
knowledge of itself. Every thing which enters into his small range of 
vision, which widens his as yet narrow world, is dear to him. The 
smallest thing is to him a new discovery. But it must not come dead 
into the little world; it must not remain dead in it: else the small 
range of vision will be darkened, the young world crushed. 

Therefore the child would like to know why each, thing is dear 
to him; he would like to know all its properties, its innermost nature, 
in order at some time to understand itself. Therefore the child turns 


the object on all sides ; therefore he tears and pounds it ; therefore he 
puts it in his mouth, and bites, or at least tries to bite it. 

We blame the child for naughtiness and foolishness ; but is he not 
more wise than we who blame? The child wishes to discover tlie 
inside of the thing, being urged to this by an impulse he has not 
given to himself, — the impulse which, rightly recognized and rightly 
guided, seeks to know God in all his works. God gave him under- 
standing, reason, and speech : the persons who guide him do not 
satisfy his impulse, cannot satisfy it. Where can the child seek for 
satisfaction of his impulse to research, bnt from the thing itself? 

But of course the thing which has been dismembered also remains 
dumb ; but does it not show in its separation either like or unlike 
parts? — there the stone broken in pieces, here the flower torn in 
pieces. And is not this already an extension of kr^owledge? Do we 
adults increase our knowledge in any other way? Is not the inside 
of the plant pithy, hollow, or woody? Is not the section of it round 
or edged, and three, or four, or five edged? Are not the separated 
surfaces even or uneven, smooth or rough, dense or porous, splintered 
or shelly, or indented or fibrous ? Are not the fragments sharp-edged 
or blunt-edged ? Does it easily shiver to pieces, or does it rather yield 
to the blows ? 

And the child does this, in order, out of the manifoldness of the 
outward phenomena of the thing, to make known to himself its inner 
nature and its relation to himself, — in order to recognize, first of all, 
the cause of his love, his inclination, his attraction, to it. And do we 
larger people, we adults, we investigators, do otherwise ? 

But if the teacher from the chair of the lecturer does this, if he 
prompts our sons to it, then first does it acquire value, and assume 
importance to us ; but in the child's action we overlook it. 

Therefore even the expression presented in the most lucid manner 
by the teacher is so frequently without effect on our sons, because 
they are now obliged to learn from the teacher what they should have 
learned in childhood by our help, by means of our explaining, vivify- 
ing word, and which they would have learned almost by themselves. 

And very, very little is needed from those around the child, to give 
it what the years of childhood require. We need only to designate, 
to name, to give words to what the child does, seeks, perceives, and 

Kich is the life of the child ripening into boyhood ; but we see it 
not : vivid is his life ; but w^e feel it not. His life is suited to the 


destiny and vocation of man ; but we do not even conjecture it. We 
not only do not foster, guard, develop, the inner germ of this life, but 
we allow it to be crushed and silenced by the weight of its own efforts, 
or it finds pleasure for itself in unnaturalness on some weak side of 
its nature; in which case we perceive the same phenomenon whicli 
in the first case, in plants, we call pining, in the second, a sucker : 
we perceive misdirection of energies, and of the bias and impulse, in 
the child (the human plant) as well as in the vegetable. 

Now, we would like well to guide otherwise the energies and sap 
(life-givmg power), bias and impulse, in the child advancing to boy- 
hood, but it is already too late ; for we have not only not recognized, 
but misconceived : we have not only not fostered, but displaced and 
stifled, the thoughtful significance of his life. 

Section 36. 

See ! — a child has there a stone he has just found, which, in order 
to conclude on its properties by its effects, he rubs on a bit of board 
lying near him, thereby discovering the j^roperty of coloring. It is a 
bit of lime or clay, — red or white chalk. 

See how the child delights in the newly-discovered property, and 
how he makes use of it with busy arm and eager hand ! In a short 
time the surface of the board is nearly covered. At first the before 
unknown property, then the altered surface, delights the child, — now 
red, now white; now black, now brown, — but soon he finds pleasure 
in the mnding, straight, curved, and other forms. By these linear 
appearances the child's attention is drawn to the linear property of 
surrounding objects. Now the head becomes a round, and the round- 
ing line, returning to its beginning-point, becomes a head; the oval 
line connected with it, a back ; arms and legs appear as straight or 
crooked lines, and such lines become to the child arms and legs ; he 
looks upon fingers as lines coming together at a point, and lines thus 
connected become to him hands and fingers ; eyes appear to him as 
points, and points become eyes ; and a new world grows up within 
and around him ; for what man tries to represent he begins to 

A manifold and new world comes to the child by the comprehen- 
sion and representation of lines ; not only because this representation 
presents the outside world in miniature, and so is more easily com- 
prehensible to his eyes and senses; not only that he can represent 


outwardly ^Yllat lie carries within him as a remembrance or a new 
connection, but that the knowledge of the new, invisible world, the 
world of powers, draws thence its fine rootlets. 

The rolling sphere, the thrown and falling stone, the water 
dammed up, and guided into little diverging ditches, have taught 
the child that the direction of the effect of j)ower is always linear. 
The representation of objects by lines leads the child soon to the 
perception and representation of the direction in which the power 
works. " There flows a brook " ; and, saying this, the child makes a 
mark to indicate the course of the brook. 

The child has connected lines which represent a tree to him ; " a 
branch grows out there, and another here " ; and at the mstant of 
speaking he draws the lines off from the tree to represent the 

Very descriptively the child says, " There comes a birdie flying," 
and immediately draws a winding line in the direction of the 
imaginary flight. 

Give the child chalk, or any thing similar, and soon a new crea- 
tion will stand before him and you. The father makes for him a 
man or a horse with a few lines : this line-man, this line-horse gives 
the child more pleasure than is given to him by the actual form or 

Section 37. 

How are you mothers and nurses to guide the child to this point ? 
If you are only willing to see and observe, the child himself will 
teach you. 

Here the child is drawing a table by going round its edges as far 
as he can reach them. The child thus, as it were, draws the object 
on the object itself. This is the first, and, to the child, the surest 
step by which he makes himself aware of the boundaries and form 
of the object. In like manner the child draws and indicates chair, 
bench, and window. 

But the child soon makes an advance. Here he draws the cross- 
lines on four-cornered bits of board, on the leaf of the table, on the 
seat of the bench and chair, in the dim anticipation that so the forms 
and relations of the surfaces can be retained. Now the child already 
draws the form diminished. 

See ! there the child has drawn table, chair, and bench on a leaf 
of the table. Do you not see how it developed itself for this, and 


trained itself to it? Objects which he could move, which were in 
sight, he laid on the board, or bench, or table, and drew their form 
on the plane surface, following the boundaries of the objects with 
his hand. Soon scissors and boxes, but soon, also, leaves and twigs, 
even his own hand, or the shadows of objects, will be thus Copied. 

Much is developed in the child by this action, more than it is 
possible to express; he gains by this clear comprehension of the 
form the possibility of representing the form separate from the 
object, the possibility of retaining the form as such, the strengthen- 
ing and fitting of the arm and hand for the free representation of 

The fostering mother, the careful father, the heedful family 
(without a natural artist among them, and often without having 
ever drawn, themselves), can carry the child on far enough for him 
to be able to draw a straight line, a cross line with tolei'able accu- 
racy, even to draw a rectangular object in a vertical position (for 
example, a looking-glass or window), with some resemblance to the 
original ; and also many other things. 

But it is not only good, but even necessary, in order to develop 
and increase the power and capacity of the child, that the father and 
mother should, without being over-anxious or careless, always con- 
nect the action of the child with w^ords ; for example, I am drawing 
a table, a looking-glass, the cross line of the backgammon-board. 

To the child, this mode of procedure heightens the inner and outer 
power, extends the knowledge, awakens the powder of judgment, and 
the thoughtf ulness which protects fi'om so much incorrectness, — all 
which qualities cannot too soon come to man in Jiis intercourse with 
Nature. For word and sign are reciprocally explaining and com- 
pleting, since neither of them is individually exhaustive and suffi- 
cing in respect to the object represented. The sign actually stands 
between the word and the thing, has properties in common with 
each, and is for that reason so very important as a means of train- 
ing and development for the child. The genuine sign has this in 
common with the thing, — that it strives to represent the form and 
outlines of the thing: it has this in common with the word, — that it 
is never the thing itself, but only an image of it. Again : word and 
sign are of a purely opposite nature ; for the sign is dead while the 
word is living ; the sign is visible while the word is audible. There- 
fore word and sign belong inseparably together, as do light and 
shade, day and night, spirit and body. Therefore the capacity for 


signs is as innate in the child as the capacity for speech, and as 
absohitely requires develox:>nient and cultivation ; as is shown in 
experience of the child's pleasure in and ardent desire for signs. 

Section 38. 

The representation of an object by a sign, and the exact percep- 
tion conditioned and required by the representation, lead the child 
soon and quickly to recognize the constantly returning connection of 
a like quantity of objects of a similar kind; for example, two eyes 
and two arms, five fingers and five toes, six legs of the bug and fly ; 
and so the sign for the object leads to the recognition and notice of 
the number. The repeated return of one and the same object con- 
ditions number. The precise different quantity, in any respect, of 
objects of the same kind, is the number of those objects. 

Thus the child's sphere of knowdedge, the world of his life, is 
again extended by the observation and recognition, by the develo^v 
ment and cultivation, of the capacity of number ; and an essential 
need of his inner nature, a certain yearning of his spirit, are thereby 
satisfied ; for, up to this point, the child contemplated liis greater 
or smaller quantities of like and unlike objects with a certain long- 
ing, a dim anticipation that he still lacks a means of knowdedge. 
It was not yet possible for him to recognize, comprehend, and deter- 
mine the relations of quantity of the different heaps he made ; but 
now he knows that he has two large and three small pebbles, four 
white and five yellow flowers, etc. The knowledge of the relations 
of quantity extraordinarily heightens the life of the child. But the 
mind of the child requires that here the mother and those around 
the child should develop in him the capacity for counting, in the 
beginning, in the manner which lies in the nature of number and 
according to the laws of thought conditioned in the mind of man 
ever after the demand for number shows itself in the child's life. 

If we quietly observe the child, we shall easily find how the 
child goes, though unconsciously, in the path marked out by the 
laws of human thought, rising from the visible to the invisible and 
the ideal ; for the child at first places together objects of a like 
kind, and obtains thus, for example, apples, nuts, pears, beans. 

The mother, or the loving, guiding nurse, now only joins to the 
child's action the explaining word ; that is, connects the visible 
with the audible, and thus brings it nearer to the insight, recogni- 


tion, and inner perception of the child ; namely, api)les, pears, nuts, 
beans, etc. 

AVho has not seen, who has not had the opportunity of seeing, 
how the child lays the objects of each kind singly, side by side in a 
row? Here again the mother adds the explaining word ; for exam- 
ple : — 

apples, apples, apples, apples, nothing but apples ; 

pear, pear, pear, j^ear, nothing but pears ; 

nut, nut, nut, nut, nothing but nuts ; 

bean, bean, bean, bean, nothing but beans ; 

or wliatever else the child groups together : there are always several 
of each kind of the different objects or things. 

While the mother has the child place one object by another, she 
also e'xpresses this action in common with the child precisely and 
clearly ; for example : — 

an apple, another apple, another apple, another apple, many apples ; 
a pear, another pear, another pear, another pear, many pears ; 
a nut, another nut, another nut, another nut, many nuts ; 
a bean, another bean, another bean, another bean, many beans ; 

so also with the fingers, etc. A quantity of each kind of object 
increases always by the regular adding of one object of that kind. 

Instead of the indefinite words " another," " another," the mother 
gives the number which accurately designates the increase, actually 
counting the objects with the child; for example : — 

one apple, two apples, three apples, four apples, etc. ; 
one pear, two pears, three pears, four pears, etc. ; 
one nut, two nuts, three nuts, four nuts, etc. ; 
one bean, two beans, three beans, four beans, etc. 

Again, the mother lays several of each kind of objects in a naturally 
increasing quantity, and designates her action by word ; for exam- 
ple : — 

* apple * pear * nut * bean 

* * apples * * pears * * nuts * * beans 

* * * apples * * * pears * * * nuts * * * beans 
* * * * apples * * * * pears * * * * nuts * * * * beans, etc. 

Later the mother and child sjjeak the words together. Lastly the 


luotlier lets the child perform alone the action as well as the designa- 
tion by word (counting). 

As here with each number the kind of object has been indicated 
and expressed, so the mother and child may run through the numbers 
alone, naming the kind of object at the close ; for example : — 

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) apples ; 

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) pears ; 

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) nuts ; 

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * *- * (four) beans, etc. 

Here the quantity of the objects is considered with reference prin- 
cipally to their precise number, with a final reference to the kind. 

Lastly the mother designates only the precise numbers in their 
sequence, without regard to the kind of objects, as 

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) * * * * * (five), 


This is the j)ure consideration and perception of numbers by them- 
selves in their natural sequence, — the perception of pure number. 

Such a clear, certain knowledge of the series of numbers up to 
ten should be developed in the child in the age of childhood. But 
the names of numbers should by no means be spoken before the child 
as empty, dead sounds, and repeated by him in a mechanical, there- 
fore also a dead and empty, manner, when it would otherwise be 
quite as likely that tlie child would say two, four, seven, or eight, one, 
five, two, if the human mind did not at last throw off through its 
own strength every thing unnatural. 

The child should for a long time never utter the words signifying 
number without looking at objects which have actually been counted 
and are being counted ; as otherwise these words arc void and mean- 
ingless to him. 

In and by the accomplishment of the development of the concep- 
tion of number there is at the same time given an example of the v/ay 
in which the child rises, and in accordance with what laws it rises, 
from the perception of the most isolated thing to more general and to 
the most general conception. 


Section 39. 

With what richness, fuhiess, and freshness of the inner and onter 
life do we now find the rightly guided, genuinely fostered, truly 
protected child in the last period of his childhood, the time of his 
exit from childhood, and entrance into boyhood ! Where is there an 
object of future information and future teaching which does not 
germinate in childhood? 

Language and Nature lie open l3efore the child. The properties 
of number, form, and size, the knowledge of space, the nature of 
powers, the effects of material, begin to disclose themselves to him. 
Color, rhythm, tone, and figure come forward at the budding-point 
and in their individual value. The child begins already to distinguish 
with precision Nature and the world of art, and looks with certainty 
upon the outer world as separate from himself. The feeling of an 
inner world of his own now develops within him. Nevertheless we 
have not yet touched upon, we have not yet noticed, one whole side 
of the life of the child not yet entered into boyhood. It is that of 
accompanying father and mother, brother and sister, in their domestic 
employments, in their business employments. 

Section 40. 

I look out of doors, and the scarcely two-years-old child of a day- 
laborer is leading liis father's horse : the father has placed the bridle 
in the child's hand. The child moves on quietly and steadily before 
the horse, and looks round frequently to see if the horse is following. 
True, the father holds the curb-rein in his hand; still the child is 
firmly convinced that he is leading the horse, and that the horse must 
follow him. For see, the father stops to speak to an acquaintance, 
and of course the horse stops also ; but the child, looking on this as 
wilfulness on the part of the liorse, pulls the bridle with all his 
strength to make it go on. 

My neiglibor's little boy, scarcely three years old, is taking care 
of his mother's goslings near my garden hedge. Small is the space 
in which he may allow the lively little creatures to seek their food. 
They escape from the little herdsman, who is perhaps seeking food 
for his mind in another way. They come into the road, where they 
are exposed to many dangers. The mother sees this, and calls to the 
child, "Be careful, my son." The little boy says to his mother 


crossly, for he must have been often disturbed in his employments 
by the goslings' repeated attempts for freedom, "Mother, do you 
think it is not hard to take care of goslings ? " 

Who can x^i'ove, establish, authenticate, the present and future 
developments which proceed from the child's thus taking a part in 
the parental employments ? And yet more might proceed if parents 
and others noticed these developments, and utilized them for the 
information and teaching of their children. 

See here the maturing child of the gardener. The latter is weeding ; 
the child wishes to help, and is taught to distinguish hemlock-parsely 
from parsely. Then the different gloss on the surface of the leaf 
and the different odor are noticed. 

There tlie forester's son accompanies him to the enclosure which 
has been sowed over. Every thing looks green. The child thinks 
he sees nothing but tiny firs ; but the father tells him that one kind 
is cypress-spm-ge, and teaches him to know the differing character 
of each. 

There the father takes aim and shoots: he hits the mark, and 
shows the attentive child that three points (the sights) must always 
lie in one direction. He shows him that, in order to turn the barrel 
of the gun toward a certain point, these three points (sights) must 
lie in that direction, and that, when this is the case, all the other 
points also lie in the same line and direction. 

There stands the child, and sees his father beat the glowing iron; 
and the father teaches him that the glow increases the malleability 
of the iron, but also, since the child vainly tries to stick the now 
gloAving iron bar through the opening through which it before went 
so easily, makes him perceive that the heat expands the iron. 

Here the father who sells by weight, and is standing near the 
scales, shows the child who is watching him, that the one scale 
always sinks when he either lays a greater quantity on it, or takes 
some away from the other scale ; and that the scales always remain 
in their horizontal position, however much or little there may be in 
them, provided there is an equal weight in each. But the father 
does not show this to the child by words, which as yet have no 
meaning to him, but by permitting him to lay on or take off the 
weights himself. 

Here the weaver shows the child how the pressing-down of the 
treadle causes a lifting of the threads, and allows the child himself 
to prove it. 


There the calico-i:>rinter shows the child how certain liquids alter 
the colors, and that certain colors always change in the same way. 
He shows him how the design must be reversed on the form, or 
placed at the left, if the design is intended to be at the right. 

Here the merchant teaches his son that the coffee is a shelled 
fruit, the seed of a plant ; and utilizes the first opportunity to show 
him the coffee-beans. He show\s him, the next time they go out for 
a walk, the place and manner of growth of the caraway, the poppy, 
the millet, the hemp, etc., all of which, as long, round, gray, yellow, 
and whitish grains, are objects of trade. 

The miner, the smith, the merchant, the dealer in iron and metal, 
teach their children to distinguish between weight and gravity. A 
pound of lead and a pound of chalk have equal weight; but the 
gravity of the lead is greater than that of chalk, iron, etc. 

Here the ropemaker shows his child how the turning of the single 
threads of flax or hemp on the reel, at a considerable distance from 
one another, twines them together in a whole. 

The fisherman, setting his net in the current of the flowing water, 
teaches his son who accompanies him, that the fish, w^hen seeking 
their food, swim up the stream. 

The son of the joiner, of the carpenter, of the cooper, of the wheel- 
wright, etc., acquires by repeated observation and action, accompa- 
nied by the instructive words of his father, a clear idea of the i^lane, 
auger, and chisel. The father tells him that the material for these 
tools is furnished partly by the tree, by the mountain, the stone ; that 
the smelting first refines the iron, and the smith works it into this 
form ; and that this smith, on account of the different tools he pre- 
pares, is called a tool-smith. The joiner, etc., evidently teaches his son 
who is eager for knowledge, that not every kind of wood is suitable for 
his tools ; not fir and pine, but beech, maple, or birch ; not the wood 
of trees with needles, but that of leafy trees or fruit-trees. And the 
father employs the next walk with his son, not only to teach him to 
know how to distinguish the leafy and needle trees, but also to teach 
him to easily give the right names to beech, Scotch fir, and pox)lar. 

The bark-peeler teaches his child who wishes to help him in his 
work, about the use and employment of the oak and poplar bark, 
and shows it to him the next time that he (the father) buys a piece 
of sole-leather from the tanner in the city. 

So the natural child, healthy in mind and body, leads the true 
father ; and the careful father leads the child, who is ever seeking 


for activity of body and mind, from the comitry to the city, from 
Nature to Art, and, reversed, from trade to agriculture and horticul- 
ture. And although the starting-point, the moving cause, is differ- 
ent, yet it is possible to each of them to learn to know the sphere 
of knowledge of others from his own, and to connect it with his 
own. Every business and every trade, every calling of the father, 
affords a starting-point for the acquisition of all human knowledge. 

To wliat an amount of knowledge can the farmer's child be led 
merely by his father's wagon and plough ! the miller's son by his 
father's mill! the merchant's son by the raw or manufactured 
natural productions which are objects of his father's trade ! 

AVhat a wealth of knowledge can be developed from the different 
employments of the manufacturer! what insights and discoveries, 
which in the later school-life of the children can be given only 
with pains and difficulty! These are the results of the domestic 
and family life of the employed and unemployed, of the observed and 
unobserved child. 

The child — your child, fathers — anticipates this so deeply, so 
vividly, so truly, that he hangs about you wherever you stay, where- 
ever you go, whatever you do. Do not unkindly repulse him, do not 
push him from you, do not be impatient with his frequent questions ! 
With every hard, repellent, rebuffing word, you destroy a bud, a sprout, 
on his tree of life. But do not answer him much by words when he 
can without words answer himself ; for it is of course easier to hear 
the answer of another, perhaps only to half hear and half understand, 
than to seek to find it out for one's self. But the answer partially 
found by himself is more to the child, and of more importance to him, 
than half hearing and half understanding it : this last causes indo- 
lence of thought and mind. Therefore do not always answer your 
children's questions directlj^, but, as soon as they have sufficient power 
and experience, give them the conditions to find the answer by their 

Let us parents, especially us fathers (for to us is confided the spe- 
cial tendance and guidance of the child at this age, — the child who 
is maturing into boyhood), rest on the perception of what the fulfil- 
ment of our fatherly duties, our guidance of the children, gives to 
us ; let us experience the joys which it gives to us ! It is not possi- 
ble that a higher joy, a higher satisfaction, should come to us in any 
way than that of the guidance of our children, of the life with our 
childi-en : therefore let us live with our children. It is inconceivable 


how we can expect and seek higher joy, greater profit, more com- 
plete satisfaction of our noblest desires elsewhere than in employing 
ourselves with our children; more recreation than in the circle of 
our family, where we can create joy for ourselves in more than 
twofold respects! 

Yet could we but see the quiet father in his simple civic relations, 
in his happy, joyous family, rej)resenting what has been only par- 
tially stated here, the truth of the statement would then deeply 
impress us. And his rule of conduct can be expressed in a few 
words : " I consider it to be the first and most important part of the 
education of children to lead them early to think." 

It appears to him so natiu'al, and so much a matter of course, 
to accustom the children to early habits of work and activity, as to 
need no words on the subject. And, besides, will not the child who 
is led to think be at the same time led to industry and activity, 
to domestic and civic virtues ? 

These words are a kernel from which unfolds a whole, shady, 
evergreen tree of life, full of fragrant blossoms, and sound, ripe 
fruit. Let us hear and observe the manner in which we allow our 
children to wander around us without work, and therefore dead. 

Section 41. 

But — it is hard; yet it is true: if we only cast an examining, 
searching glance upon and within ourselves in our intercourse with 
our children, we must confess that no more is said than is true — 
we are dead, and what surrounds us is dead to us. We are empty 
of all knowledge for our children. Almost every thing we say is 
hollow and empty, without meaning and without life. Only in few 
rare cases, when perception of Nature and life lie at the foundation 
of our speech, do we enjoy the life of it. 

Therefore let us hasten ; let us give life to ourselves, to our 
children ; let ns through them give meaning to our speech, and life 
to the objects surrounding us ! Therefore let us live with them ; let 
us permit them to live with us ; thus shall we receive through them 
all that we need. 

Our words, our conversation in social life, are dead, are empty 
husks, puppets without life, coin without value, for they lack the 
perception of the inner ; they lack contents. They are evil spirits, 
because they have no body nor substance. Our surroundings are 


dead; objects are masses: they depress instead of elevating; for 
they lack the vivifying word that gives sense and meaning. 

We do not feel and discover the sense of our conversation, for it 
consists of ideas learned from the outside, at the foundation of which 
are neither perception nor formation . Therefore they do not cause 
any perception, formation, or life, for they have not come, and do not 
come, from life. 

Our conversation resembles the book from which we have learned 
it by rote, thougli only at third or fourth hand. We do not see, nor 
can we form, what w^e speak of. That is why our conversation is so 
empty. Our inner and outer life and that of our children is so poor, 
because our talk is not born of a life rich in seeing and creating 
inwardly and outwardly, because our talk and our words lack the 
contemplation of the thing which they indicate. Therefore we indeed 
hear the sound, but we receive no image : we hear the noise, but we 
see no action. 

Section 42. 

Fathers, parents, come, let our children supply us with what we 
lack. The all-vivifying, all-forming power of child-life that we no 
longer possess, let us receive again from them. 

Let us learn from our children ; let us give ear to the gentle moni- 
tions of their life, the quiet demands of their intellect. Let us live 
with our children : so shall the lives of our children bring peace and 
Joy to us ; so shall we begin to be and to become wise. 

Section 43. 

The objects of the outer world become most intimately connected 
with the word, and by the word again most intimately connected with 
the human being at the stage of his development which we have 
been observing, and the perception and consideration of which we 
have brought forward. 

This stage is therefore pre-eminently the stage of development for 
man's capacity for speech. On that account it was so indispensable 
to connect the precise, clear word with every action of the child, 
and to clearly designate each action. Every object, every thing, 
becomes such for the child by the word. Before the word was given, 
the thing had no existence for the child, though his outer eye seemed 
to perceive it. A word created, as it were, the thing for the child : 


therefore word and thing seem to be and are one as much as pith 
and stem, as branch and twig; and notwithstanding this inner 
connection of the object with the word, and through the word with 
man at this stage of the development of man, each object is quite 
distinct from another, each object and each whole is again quite 
unseparated in its parts, — a fact which cannot be clearly enough 
perceived, or noticed with sufficient accuracy by parents and educa- 
tors. But the destiny of man and of things makes quite a different 
requisition : man is not only to view each thing as an undivided 
whole ; but he is also to view it as capable of being separated into 
parts for the representation of a joint aim. He is not only to recog- 
nize and view it as a whole, existing for itself as a unity and an 
individuality, but he is to recognize and view each again as a part 
of a respectively greater and higher totality for the representation 
of a higher common aim. Not only the outer relations and connec- 
tions of each thing, but its inner references, its inner union with 
that which is outwardly separate from it, are to be recognized and 

Section 44. 

Yet the totality of that which forms the outer world to man 
cannot be recognized as such in its unity, but again only through 
the knowledge of the individual being, of the peculiar natm-e of each 
individual thing in its substantiality and personality. 

But man recognizes with difficulty the inner natm'e of each thing 
when it is brought too close to him inwardly and outwardly, and the 
difficulty is increased in the measure that the thing is brought too 
near him outwardly and inwardly, that it stands too near him in 
both respects. The misunderstanding between parents and child 
within the family circle, etc., gives frequent and speaking proofs of 
this fact. For that reason it is generally so difficult for man to 
recognize himself. An outward separation, on the contrary, fre- 
quently brings forth inner union, inner discovery and recognition. 
So, alas! man knows many strangers and strange objects, strange 
times, strange persons, better than his own neighborhood, his own 
time, better than he knows himself. If man desires truly to 
know himself, he must represent himself outwardly; must, as it 
were, place himself opposite to himself. If, now, man is to rightly 
recognize his destiny conformably to the nature of each thing in 
the outer world around him, if he is by means of each thing to 


rightly recognize himself, there must be for him after the age of 
childhood a new stage, opposite in its nature to the preceding one, 
uniting man and object ; outwardly opposing, but inwardly uniting, 
man and object. 

Such a stage, which brings the objects inwardly near to man by 
separating word and object, recognizes object and word each as 
something different from the other, distinct from it, yet uniting with 
it. This stage is that in which language comes in as something 
substantial, and existing for itself. This is the stage now following. 

Man emerges from the stage of childhood into the stage of boyhood 
with the separation of the word from the thing, and the thing from 
the word ; with the separation of the speech from the speaker, and 
the reverse; with the even later embodying of speech by sign and 
writing, and the contemplation of speech as something embodied. 

This is the stage in which man by his power brings the outward 
near to himself, and assimilates it. 

Paet III. 


Section 45. 

As the former stage of human development, the stage of cJiildhood, 
was pre-eminently that of life, of mere living, as it was the stage at 
which to make the internal external, so the present, the boy-stage, 
is pre-eminently the stage to make the external internal, the stage of 

On the part of the parents and educators the baby-stage was 
pre-eminently the stage of fostering. The following space of time, 
which claims man predominantly as a imity and for unity, is that 
of predominating education. The just indicated stage of boyhood 
claims man predominantly in single references and for individuals, 
in order later to trace back their inner unity. The inner directions 
in which the individualities stand among themselves are to be sought 
out and proved. 

To consider and treat the individuals by themselves, and in 
reference to their inner relations to each other, is the province and 
nature of instruction. And so the boy-time is predominantly the 
time of instruction. 

The business of developing and cultivating man in boyhood takes 
place as instruction, not only according to the nature of the human 
being, but predominantly according to the precise, fixed, and clear 
laws lying in the nature of things, especially according to those 
laws to which man and object are alike subject ; or, to speak more 
precisely, not so much in regard to the way in which the general 
eternal law is expressed with peculiar reference to man, as in regard 
to the way in which it is expressed with peculiar reference to every 
object besides man, and in reference to the way it is expressed in 
man and object mutually : therefore the business of developing and 
cultivating man in boyhood takes place as instruction according to 


fixed, precise limitations outside of him in this peculiar or general 
form. According to this, instruction can and must take place only 
with knowledge, insight, circumspection, inspection, and consciousness. 

Such a procedure is called school in the widest sense of the word. 

It is therefore school when man is brought to and attains to the 
knowledge of the objects outside of himself, and of their nature 
according to the special laws of these objects, and to the general 
laws which rule all ; when man, by the bringing forward of the 
outer, the particular, the individual, is brought to and attains to 
the knowledge of the inner, the general, the unity. Therefore man 
as a boy becomes at once a scholar. 

With the stage of boyhood comes also for man the beginning of 
school, whether it be in or out of the house, by the father, by the 
members of the family, or by a teacher. 

By school, is therefore understood, neither the schoolroom nor 
the school-teaching, but the conscious communication of knowledge 
for an aim, and in an inner coherence of which the teacher is 

Section 46. 

The development and cultivation of man to attain his destiny, 
to fulfil his vocation, is (as it has appeared and continues to appear 
on all sides) a perpetual, uninterruptedly continuous, unseparated 
whole, always rising from one stage to another. From the feeling 
of community awakened in the baby develops in the child the 
impulse, the inclination. This impulse and inclination tend to 
form the intellect and heart, and generate in the boy activity of 
mind and will. 

The principal aim, the principal point of reference, in the guid- 
ance of the boy in the instruction given to him, as well as in the 
school, is to raise the activity of the will to firmness of will, and so 
to vivify and form a clear, vigorous, firm, and enduring will, to train 
up and represent a pure humanity. 

Section 47. 

Will is the activity of the si)irit always consciously proceeding 
from a definite point in a definite direction, to a definite, conscious 
aim in harmony with the whole nature of man. 

In this statement is said and determined all wliich parents and 

MAN AS A r,OY. 59 

educator, teacher and school, should give and be to the hoj, looking 
upon hira in this point of view. 

The starting-point of all the boy's activity of spirit should be 
vigorous and healthy ; the fount from which his activity flows should 
be pure, clear, and never stagnant; the direction should be simple 
and definite ; the aim, assured, firm, and conscious, having life in 
itself in accordance with its nature, developing life, nourishing, reju- 
venating, elevating, and ennobling life, worthy of the efforts of man, 
worthy of his calling and of his destiny, worthy of his nature, and 
developing and representing his nature. 

In order, therefore, to raise the natural activity of the will of the 
boy to true, genuine firmness of will, all his activities, all his will, 
must proceed from and refer to the development, the improvement, 
and representation of the inner. Example and words, instruction, 
later teaching and example, are the means by which this object may 
be attained ; not examples alone, and not words alone. Not exam- 
ple alone ; for example is single, individual, receiving its generality 
and applicability by the word. Not word alone; for w^ord is general, 
spiritual, often ambiguous, receiving perceptibility, significance, and 
existence through example. 

But example and word, instruction and example, cannot effect 
this alone, but only in conjunction with a pure, good heart ; and the 
education of childhood works to this end. 

Therefore the training of the boys rests only on you; therefore 
activity of will proceeds from activity of heart and mind ; firmness of 
will, from firnniess of heart and mind; and, where the activity is 
wanting, the firmness is difficult to attain. 

Section 48. 

But the expression of a good, pure heart, a thoughtful, pure mind, 
is, as it bears a unity in itself, the fervent, the yearning effort to find 
an inner necessary unity also for the outwardly separated things of 
which he sees so many around him, and also to find for them a 
spiritually uniting, and an all-vivifying, spiritual bond and law, such 
as it feels in itself, a bond and law whereby they will receive at 
least the significance of life. 

This eager desire is fulfilled to man in the stage of childhood by 
finding liimseK in complete possession of animated play ; since he, by 
this play, is placed in the centre of all things. All things are placed 


only in reference to him, to his life. Yet the fcamily life, above all, 
gives the full satisfaction of this desire; only the family life gives 
this development and perfecting of a good heart and of a thoughtful, 
pure mind in their genuine activity and full vigor, which is beyond 
all comparison important for each stage of formation, even for the 
whole life of man. 

Since, now, that uniting thought is the primary condition of all 
genuine human development and training to perfection, and since 
every separating thought disturbs the pure, human development, so 
even as a child, man refers every thing to the family life, sees every 
thing only through the family, in the mirror and form of the family 
life, as childhood clearly shows. 

The life of his own family is thus to the child an outward tiling, 
and it becomes to him a model life. Parents should always consider 
that the child would like to represent it as it seems to him in its 
purity, its harmony, its efficacy. 

Section 49. 

But in the family the child sees his parents and other members 
of the family, and sees the adults create, produce, do work in life 
and in the relations which concern his family. And so the child, 
also, at this stage w^ould himself like to represent what he sees. He 
would like, and tries, to represent all that he sees his parents and 
other adults do, create, represent, and perform ; all of which he recog- 
nizes the possibility and manner of representation by human powers 
and by members of humanity. 

What before was in the child action for the sake of the activity 
is in the boy activity for the sake of the work, of the result. The 
child's impulse to activity has developed in the boy into an impulse 
for formation : this fact solves the j^roblem of the whole outer life, 
of the outward manifestations of boy-life. 

How eagerly at first does the boy or girl at this age share the 
work of father or mother, not the sportive and easy — no, no — the 
fatiguing portions of the work, — those which require strength and 
effort ! 

Here be cautious, here be careful and thoughtful, parents. You 
may here at one stroke destroy, at least for a long time, your children's 
impulse to activity and formation, if you reject the help of your chil- 
dren as childish, useless, even, perhaps, as hindering and intrusive. 


Do not allow yourself to be misled by the press of business : guard 
yourself from saying, " Go away ! you only hinder me " ; or " I must 
hurry : let me do it quickly alone ! " 

The inner activity of boy and girl becomes thus disturbed : they 
see themselves put out from the whole, with whicli they felt them- 
selves entirely one ; their power is excited ; they see themselves alone ; 
they do not know how to begin any thing with the aroused power, 
which is therefore wearisome and oppressive ; they become fretful and 

This rejection by the parents need scarcely liappen three times to 
prevent the child from coming forward again to help to share in any 
work. He stands aroimd now, fretful and ennuye, even if he now sees 
the parents busy about work in which he could take part. And who 
has not, later, heard from the parents the following complaint made 
about children who had been so treated : " When the boy, the girl, 
was small and could not help at all, it was busy with every thing ; 
now that it has knowledge and power, it will do nothing"? 

See, parents ! the first impulse to activity, the first desire for 
formation, comes out to man conformably to the nature of the spirit 
working within him, as yet unconsciously and unrecognized, without 
his help, even against his will, as man in later life can still perceive 
in himself. If, now, there comes up to man, especially in youth, an 
outward hindrance of this inner summons to activity, and particularly 
to formation, creation, and representation, which is always connected 
with bodily effort, — such a hindrance as the will of the parents, which 
cannot be set aside, — his power is immediately weakened, and, if this 
experience is frequently repeated, withdraws wholly into the back- 
ground, and subsides into inactivity. 

The child thus disturbed neither asks nor considers whether or 
why his help is allowable at one time, and not at another ; he selects 
that which is in conformity with his physical nature. He the more 
readily and willingly gives up this activity as he seems to be forced 
to it by the will of his parents. 

The child becomes idle ; that is, his body is no longer interpene- 
trated by spirit and life : it becomes to him a burden which he must 
bear, whereas before the feeling of power did not permit him to 
consider his body as such, but only as the vigorous bearer of the 
interpenetrating power. 

Therefore, parents, if you wish for help from your children later 
and at a convenient time, nourish early in them the impulse of 


activity, and, especially at the stage of lioyliood, the impulse to 
formation, even though it should cost you some self-command, some 
sacrifice. It will later repay you a hundred-fold, like good fruit 
in good ground. 

Strengthen, develop, confirm, this impulse ; give your child the 
higliest which he now needs ; permit him to put his strength into 
your work, which, being yours, is especially dear to him, so that 
he may acquire not only a consciousness, but a measure, of his 

If the earlier activity was only imitation of the domestic life, 
the present action is participation in domestic affairs, — lifting, 
pulling, carrying, digging, splitting. The boy will exercise, weigh, 
and measure his strength in all these acts, that his body may be 
strengthened, his power increased, and that he may obtain a measure 
of his power. The son accompanies his father everywhere, — to the 
field and into the garden, to the workshop and the printing-office, 
to the employments of the forest and meadow, in the care of the 
domestic animals and the manufacture of the smaller articles of 
liouse-furniture, to the wood-sawing, wood-splitting, and wood-piling, 
to all the different employments of the father, whatever his business 
may be. Question after question presses forth from the knowledge- 
seeking mind of the boy, — how? why? by what means? when? 
wherefore? of what? for what? And every answer which is only 
measurably satisfying opens to the boy a new world. Speech appears 
to him everywhere as an intermediation, and therefore he perceives 
its absoluteness. 

The healthy boy of this age, who has been simply and naturally 
trained in childhood, never avoids a difficulty, never goes round 
a hindrance : no, he seeks it out, he overcomes it. " Let it lie," 
calls the vigorous youngster to his father, who wishes to remove a 
niece of wood from the boy's path, — " let it lie : I can get over it ! " 

With difficulty does the boy get over the first time ; but he has 
got over unassisted ; strength and courage are increased in him ; 
he goes back, climbs again over the obstruction, and soon gets over 
it as easily as if nothing lay in the way. As activity gave pleasure 
to the child, so action gives pleasure to the boy. Hence the plienom- 
ena of the daring, adventurous power of boyhood, the plunging into 
holes and clefts, the climbing of trees and hills, the searching for 
the high and the deep, the raml)ling in forests and fields. 

Easy is the most difficult, without peril is the most adventurous ; 


for the prompting to it proceeds from the innermost nature, the 
mind, the will. 

But it is not alone the weighing and proving, exercising and 
measuring the power, which attracts the boy even at this age toward 
height and depth, width and breadth ; but it is especially the peculi- 
arity and need of his now unfolding innermost life to survey the 
manifold, to see the isolated in a whole, especially to bring near that 
which is distant, to receive into himself the distance, the multiplicity, 
the whole. He strives to extend his view, his range of vision, from 
stage to stage. 

The climbing of a new tree is for the boy the discovery of a new 
world ; the outlook from it shows every thing quite differently from 
our usual crow^ded and shifting side-vie w^ If we could recall the 
feelings that expand both heart and soul which we had in our 
boyhood when the narrowing limits of the surroundings sank before 
our extended gaze, we should not, when all lies so distinctly before 
the boy, call to him so coldly, " Climb dowai, you will fall ! " 

Not only by moving and standing does one learn to move and 
stand ; not only by moving and standing, sitting and creeping, does 
one protect one's self from a fall, but also by looking around and 
from above. And how wholly different is even that to which we 
are most accustomed, when we look upon it from above ! 

Should we not early procure for our boy this elevation of spirit 
and mind? Shall he not in the clear heights clear his thoughts, and 
expand heart and mind, by his gaze into the distance ? 

" But the boy is so adventurous I am never free from anxiety 
about him." 

The boy who has been brought up in the calm way suited to the 
constant development of his strength will always make only a little 
more demand upon his strength than it has proved capable of meet- 
ing, and so he wdll pass through all these dangers as if guided by a 
protecting genius ; while another, not knowing his own strength and 
powers, ventures to do things for which he lacks, though ever so 
slightly, the skilled strength required, and gets into danger even 
where the most cautious would anticipate none. 

Those boys are always the most rashly adventurous who, without 
constantly practised strength, have all at once an influx of strength, 
and at the same time the opportunity to use it. They will then, 
especially if others are observing them, get into danger. 

Not less developing and full of significance is the boy's inclination 


to plunge into hollows and clefts, to ramble in the shady gi-ove and 
in the gloomy forest. It is the effort to seek and find what is yet 
undiscovered, the effort to bring into the light and close to himself 
that which abides in gloom and shadows, and to appropriate it. 

The boy brings back with him from such wanderings a rich booty 
of imfamiliar stones and plants and animals which dwell in darkness 
and retirement, — worms, bugs, spiders, lizards. 

And "What is this? what is its name?" etc., are the questions to 
which the boy seeks an answer on his return. With each word his 
world becomes richer, the outward world clearer to him. Only, of 
course, you must not call to the boy when he is approaching, " Fie, 
throw that away, that is horrid ! " or, " Drop that, it will bite you." 

If the child obeys, he has also thrown away an essential part of 
liis human power, and later you may say to him in vain, " See, that 
is a harmless little creatm-e." His own understanding and reason 
may say to him in vain the same thing ; his gaze is turned away, and 
a sum of knowledge is lost to him ; while the boy scarcely six years 
old will tell you things about the wonderful construction of a bug, 
and the peculiar use of its limbs, which up to that time had passed 
all unnoticed before your eyes. You may warn him to be careful 
about grasping unfamiliar creatures, but not with solicitude. 

But the genuine, vigorous boy of this age is by no means always 
on the heights, by no means always in the depths and the gloom. 
The same effort which draws him to hill and valley, namely, the 
effort to look around, to look over, and to look into things, retains 
its hold of him also on the plain. See, there he is making a garden 
under the hedge, near the fence of his father's garden; there he 
represents the course of a stream by his furrows and ditches ; there 
he closely contemplates and looks into the effect of the fall or of 
the pressm-e of the water on his little water-wheel. Here he obsei*ves 
the proi^erty of swimming of a little piece of wood, or of a piece of 
porous bark on the water he has dammed up to form a little pond. 
A boy of this age is especially fond of employing himself with the 
clear, running, easily movable water, in which the boy who would 
like to have a clear idea of himself sees the image of his soul as in 
a mirror ; he also likes well to employ himself with plastic materials 
(sand, clay). One might say that these employments are an ele- 
ment of his life ; for he seeks now, because of sensations previously 
gained of power over material, to gain mastery over these. 

Every thing must subserve his impulse toward formation ; there 


ill the lieap of earth he makes a cellar, a cave ; upon it a garden, a 

Boards, boughs, slats, and poles must be put together to form a 
hut or house ; the deeply-fallen snow must be rolled up to form the 
walls and ramparts of a fort ; and the rough stones on a hill nuist be 
grouped together to make a castle — all in the thought, spirit, and 
effort of nurn in his boyhood, in the thought and spirit of union and 

See there the two scarcely seven-years-old boys, how they, putting 
their arms round each other, peacefully and trustfully consulting, 
wander down the j^ard ! they wish to get some tools in order to build, 
in a dark grove behind the house, a hut with bench and table, a 
seat from whence their eyes can overlook the whole valley at one 
glance, and see it as a beautiful whole composed of parts. 

So the uniting but also self-resting thought unites all that comes 
near it which is suited to its needs and inner conditions, — unites 
stones and men in a mutual aim for a nmtual work. And thus each 
soon forms his own peculiar world ; for the feeling that he has 
slrenfjtli of his own soon also requires and conditions the possession 
of a space of his own and material of his own, which belong exclusively 
to him. Whether his kingdom, his province, his estate, as it were, 
be a corner of the yard, of the house, or of the room ; whether it be 
the space of a box or be in a bureau ; or whether it be a hollow, a 
hut, a garden, — he, the boy, at this age must also have an outward 
point of reference and union of his activity, which is best provided 
and chosen by himself. 

If the space to be filled is extended, if the province to be ruled 
is largei_if the whole to be represented is composed of many parts, 
then is shown the brotherly union of those who are like-minded. 
And if those who are like-minded meet in equal efforts, and put their 
hearts into it, either the work already begun is extended, or the 
individual work is begun anew as a general work. 

Would you parents, you trainers of children, you educators, see 
in miniature, in a jpicture as it were, what is here indicated ? Look 
with me into this educational room and into this circle of more than 
eight boys of from seven to ten years old. 

On the large table in the much used room stands a box with 
building-bricks (blocks in the form and relation of the mason's bricks, 
each length about one-sixth of the actual size, of the most beautiful 
and multiform material which can be furnished to the growing 


power of the boy as means of representation) ; sand or saw-dust liave 
also their place in the room; and the last walk into the beautiful 
fir-wood has given a rich supply of beautiful green moss. 

It is the time for free work, and each has now begun his work 
for himself. There in that corner stands, quite hidden, a little chapel ; 
cross and altar indicate the spirit of the idea : it is the work of a 
little quiet boy. There on the chair two boys have undertaken 
together a considerably larger work : it is a building of many stories, 
which looks from the chair, as from a hill, into the valley. But 
what has that boy built so quietly under the table ? It is a green 
hill, on which is enthroned an old ruined citadel. Under the hands 
of others a little village has extended into the plain. 

Now each has finished his work : each now looks at it, at the 
work of the others, and at the others. To each comes the thought 
and wish to unite the isolated building, to form a whole, and scarcely 
is the wish recognized as common to all than roads are laid in 
common from the village to the ruined citadel, from the citadel to 
the castle, from the castle to the chapel ; and meadows and brooks 
are made between them. 

Or, if you are there another time, some have made a landscape 
of clay; another has made a cardboard house with windows and 
doors; and another again has made boats of nut-shells. Each one 
now looks at his work : " It is good ; but it stands alone." He looks 
also at his neighbor's work : " It would be much prettier together." 
And soon the house stands like a castle on the hill of the landscape ; 
and the boats swim on the little artificial sea ; and, to the delight of 
all, the younger brings his shepherd and sheep to graze between the 
hill and the lake. Now they all stand and look with satisfaction 
at the work of their hands. 

Or down yonder, by the spring, by the brook, how busy the older 
boys are with their work ! They have built canals and locks, and 
bridges and seaports, dams and mills ; each boy undisturbed by the 
others, and not noticing their work. But now the water is to be 
used according to its natm-e ; and ships glide upon it from the higher 
to the lower water. But after each advance there is another barrier, 
and each boy asserts his right while acknowledging the requirements 
of the others. How can the difficulties be settled ? Only by agree- 
ments ; and, like States, they bind themselves by strict agreements. 
Who can demonstrate the many-sided significance, the manifold 
fruits, of these boyish plays ? Only one thing stands firm and sui'e : 


these plays proceed from one thought and one spuit, — the one thought 
and spirit of boyhood. And the boys who played thus were good 
scholars, intelligent, and willing to learn, seeing and representing 
clearly, diligent and assiduous ; and are now capable young men, 
with well-trained heads and hearts, quick in expedients, and dextrous 
in action ; and some of those who thus played are capable, clear- 
sighted, circumspect men, and others will become so. 

It is especially important for the boys at this age to pref)are their 
own gardens for the sake of the result ; for man sees there (in the 
garden), for the first time, the fruits proceeding from his action in 
an organic, necessarily limited, intellectually legitimate way, — fruits 
which in many ways depend upon his activity, though subject to the 
inner laws of the powers of I^ature. This work gives many-sided 
and full satisfaction to the boy's life with Nature, his questions about 
it, and the earnest desire to know Natm'e, which leads him repeatedly 
to contemplate plants and flowers for a long time, and to observe 
them thoughtfully. And Nature also seems especially favorable to 
this desire and this employment, and to especially bless them by a 
fortunate result ; for it seems, by a glance at the gardens of chil- 
dren and boys, that the plants which the boys only in some degree 
tend and cherish, grow and bloom with remarkable health and 
freshness : it seems, indeed, that the plants and flowers which the 
boys watch and tend with especial love, live with them, as it were, 
and bloom with especial brightness and joyousness. 

If the boy cannot have any garden of his own to tend, he should 
at least own a couple of plants in boxes or flower-pots, and these 
plants should not be rare, hard to raise, or double ; no ! they should 
be easily grown, common plants, such as have an abundance of leaves 
and flowers. 

The child or boy who has tended or protected an outer life, even 
if of a very inferior degree, is more easily led to the tendance and 
care of his own life. And the boy's desire to observe living, natm-al 
objects, beetles, butterflies, swallows, is also satisfied by the care of 
plants, as such creatures like to come near the plant-world. 

But all the plays and employments of boys of this age are by no 
means only representations of objects and things : many plays are 
pre-eminently exercises and tests of strength ; many have no other 
aim than that of showing strength. 

Yet the play of this age has always a peculiar character, corre- 
sponding to the inner life of the boy. As in the previous space of 


time, that of cliildhood, activity alone Avas the ohject of the play, so 
now its object is a definite conscious aim ; it is repr-esentation as such, 
the act of representing ; and this character of the free, boyish plays, 
is more and more perfected in his advancing years. So with all 
plays of bodily movement, — the plays of running, wrestling, boxing, 
ball-plays, goal, fighting and limiting plays, etc. 

The feeling of certain, sure strength, the feeling of heightening 
and increasing this strength in himself and his playmates, is what 
fills the boy with such all-pervading, jubilant pleasure in these plays. 
But it is by no means only the bodily strength which here receives 
such great and strengthening nourishment, but the s^writual, the 
moral strength appears to be heightened, increased, made definite 
and sure by all these plays; so that when the question comes w^ 
which side the scale shall turn, v.diether on the bodily or spiritual 
side, the overweight will hardly be on the side of the body. Justice, 
moderation, self-command, veracity, honesty, brotherliness, and also 
strict impartiality will spring up, like beautiful flowers of heart, 
mind, and firm will ; and M'ho, when he approaches a circle of such 
playing boys, does not perceive the fragrance of these flowers? The 
beautifully colored, though perhaps less fragrant flowers, courage, 
endurance, resolution, presence of mind, severe criticism of and with- 
drawal from pleasant indolence, may form no part of the bouquet. 

Whoever desires to inspire a fresh, refreshing breath of life, 
should visit the playground of such boys. 

But more delicate, fragrant blossoms bloom, and the courageous, 
free boy spares them, as the courageous horse does the child in the 
path of his rapid course. These delicate flowers, resembling the 
violet and snowdrop, are sparing, tolerating, cherishing, encom-aging 
towards those who are, not through their own fault, weaker, more 
delicate, or younger; and fairness towards those who are not yet 
familiar with the play. 

Would that all would consider this who only just tolerate giving 
boy-plays a place in the education of boys ! 

True, many a word is rough, and many an action saucy ; but the 
strength exists previously to the cultivated strength. There must be 
the sensation of strength before the strength can manifest itself as 
cultivated. Sharp, clear, and penetrating are the boy's eye, gaze, 
and sense for the recognition of the inner ; and therefore sharp and 
precise, even hard and rough, is his judgment toward those equally 
endowed with judgment and strength, or who, at least, act as if they 
were thus endowed. 


Each town should have a pkiy-place for its boy-world that is 
common to all. Glorious would be the fruits which would proceed 
therefrom for the whole community; for the plays at this stage of 
development are held in common whenever it is possible, thus devel- 
oi:>ing the sensation of community, the laws and requirements of the 

The boy seeks to see himself in his playmates, to feel himself in 
them, to measure himself by them, to recognize and find himself by 
means of them. So the plays directly influence and form the boy 
for his life, awaken and nourish many civic and moral virtues. 

Yet seasons and circumstances do not always permit the boy, 
free from the duties of home and school, to exercise and develop his 
strength in the open air; and the boy should never be absolutely 
inactive: therefore all kinds of other outward* employments and 
representations which are connected with house and room, especially 
what is called mechanical work, work with paper, cardboard, mould- 
ing, etc., make so essential a part of the action and guidance of the 
boy at this age, and are so important for him. 

Yet there is still in man an effort, an earnest desire, a demand of 
the mind, which is not satisfied by all the outward employments and 
activity. All w^hich outward employment and activity give to man 
at this stage is not lasting enough for him; is not lasting enough 
for what he seeks and needs in education suited to his nature ; the 
present, with all its fulness and all its richness, cannot satisfy him. 

From the fact that something is in the present, he recognizes that 
something was* in the past. He would like to know of what existed 
before him. He would like to know the jiast cause of what is 
present: indeed, he wdshes that what has remained from the old 
time should tell him of itself, of the foundation of its existence, of 
that old time. 

Who does not remember clearly the earnest desire of his boyhood, 
especially of his more matured boyhood, winch clearly and loudly 
expressed itself in his mind when he looked at old ruined walls, old 
towers, even only buildings, also when he looked at old monuments 
and columns on the heights and by the wayside, that others would 
tell him of these objects, of their time, and of their origin ? 

AVho has not then observed in himself a dim, indefinite feeling, as 
if these objects could and would some time tell him of themselves 
and of their times? 

And who, according to his experience, can tell him of these 


things but those who were in existence before him, — his elders? He 
earnestly desires that they should tell hiin of these things ; and thus 
•develops, in a boy of this age, the need of and strong desire for narra- 
tive, for tales, for all kinds of stories, and later, for accounts of 
historical events. 

This urgent desire, especially at first, is uncommonly great at this 
age ; so great, that, when it is not satisfied by others, the boys seek 
its satisfaction from each other, especially at the seasons and on the 
days of rest ; that is, when the bodily employments and affairs of the 
day are ended. 

Who has not seen, and W'ho has not been filled with anxiety by 
seeing, how a circle of boys at this age collect around the one whom 
they have chosen for their story-teller because of his good memory 
and vivid imagination ; how they listen with strained attention ; how 
his story fulfils the wish of their life, and confirms act, deed, and 
judgment by action ; in a w^ord, brings before them example and 
word in union wdth their inner natm-e ! But the present, in which 
the boy lives, contains still much which man in this stage of devel- 
opment cannot explain to himself, much as he would like to do so ; 
much which seems to him dumb, and which he w^ould like to have 
speak ; much which seems dead to him, and which he wishes should 
be living and animated. 

He wishes others to undertake this explanation, to make him hear 
the quiet speech of the objects wdiich to him are silent, to give speech 
to silent objects ; he wishes that the inner, living coherence of things 
which his innermost nature anticipates should be clearly expressed 
to him by w^ord and speech. 

But it is not always possible, and sometimes it is quite impossible, 
for these others to fulfil the boy's wish, and so there develops in him 
the need and earnest desire for fables and legends, both of which 
attribute s];)eech and reason to speechless objects, — the one within, 
the other wdthout, the limits of human relations, and human, earthly 

This, also, has certainly been remarked by every one who has 
remarked the life of boys of this age with somewhat deep and com- 
prehensive attention. So, if here also this need is not and can not 
be satisfied by his elders, the boy of his own accord falls upon the 
invention and representation of legends and fables, and improves 
upon them either only in his owai mind, or also for the benefit of 
companions of his own age, whom he delights with these stories. 


These legends and stories, then, very ex]>ressiYely demonstrate to 
the observer what is going on in the deep mind of the young story- 
teller, though doubtless only unconsciously to himself. 

He wishes to hear expressed by others what he himself feels, -what 
lives in him, and what he yet lacks the language to express himself. 

What does the boy's mind anticipate, what brings joy and pleas- 
ure to his swelling heart, like the feeling of strength and of the 
spring-time of his life, which he desires to put into words ? But he 
feels himself too yonng for this. He seeks for words, and, since he 
cannot yet find such in himself, he is greatly delighted to find them 
outside of himself, in sentences, and especially in song. 

Does not the joyous, animated boy at this stage like to sing? 
Does he not first feel himseK truly living in song? Is it not the 
feeling of a growing strength which makes the animating song ring 
out so loudly from his lips and from his healthy throat as he rambles 
from the valley to the hill, or from hill to hill ? 

The boy is enchained by the urgent desire to have a clear idea of 
himself. So we saw him by the clear, pure, running, still or rippling 
water. The water always draws him back to it in his plays, because 
he sees in it himself, the image of his soul, and hopes by it to obtain 
a clear idea of his spiritual being. 

What the water is in the brook and lake, what the pure air and 
clear distance from the top of the hill are for the soul of the boy, that 
his play is to him, — a mirror of the combat of life awaiting him in 
the future : therefore, in order to strengthen him for this combat, 
man in his later youth, and even in his boyhood, seeks out obstruc- 
tions, difficulty, and combat in his play. 

The boy is repeatedly seized with the renewed desire to obtain 
knowledge of ancient times and of Nature, at the sight of flowers, 
old walls, and fallen arches. The earnest desire to represent what 
makes his mind and heart swell attracts him to song; and so it is 
certain that very many of the outer phenomena, very much of the 
behavior and actions of the boy, have an inner and spiritual signifi- 
cance, and indicate his spiritual life and strivings, and are therefore 

How wholesome it would be for parents and child, for their pres- 
ent and future, if the parents believed in this symbolism of this 
stage of child-life and boy-life! If parents would observe the life of 
their children in this respect, what a new, living bond would unite 
parents and child ! what a new thread of life would be drawn 
between their present and their future life ! 


Section 50. 

Such is the pure boy-life of this age. 

If we now look upon this presentation of the inner and outer 
pure life of boys and children, which blesses man where a guidance 
and education of children and boys suited to the human nature and 
to the human being predominates, and, indeed, in greater beauty 
and fulness and animation than is here represented ; if we now look 
from this pure life of children and -boys on their life as it, alas ! not 
seldom shows itself to us actually, though only partially ; if we look 
especially into the childlike, brotherly, domestic, active, and busy life 
of the child and boy as a scholar and playmate, — we must frankly 
confess the latter differs in many respects from the f ormei" ; that in 
the latter we meet with self-will, defiance, love of ease, spiritual 
and bodily supineness and indolence, frivolity and self-conceit, posi- 
tiveness and desire to rule, unbrotherliness and unchildlikeness, 
emptiness and superficiality, aversion to labor and even to play, 
disobedience and profanity (forgetfulness of God), etc. 

If we look, if we seek, now for the spring of these and of the many 
other faults which appear in the life of the child and the boy which 
can l)e by no means denied, a twofold cause appears : first, completely 
neglected development of the different sides of the human being, then 
the early faulty direction, the early faulty unnatural stages of devel- 
opment, and distortion of the originally good powers, qualities, and 
efforts of man by wilful, lawless interference in the original, legiti- 
mate, and necessary course of development of the human being. 

Section 51. 

For indeed the nature of man is in itself good, and there are in 
man qualities and efforts good in themselves. Man is by no means 
bad in himself, and his qualities are in themselves not bad, and still 
less are they evil, if one does not call evil, bad, and erroneous as 
such and in its properties and results the finite, corporeal, transi- 
tory, and hodihj, which has its inevitable foundation and its existence 
in the appearance of the eternal in the temporal and as temporal, of 
the one in the individual and as individual, in the destiny of man to 
consciousness, reason, and freedom, and what necessarily follows, 
that man must be able to fail in order to be good and virtuous, that 
he must be able to become a slave in order to be truly free. 


Whoever is to do thcat which is divine and eternal with self- 
determination and freedom must be able and permitted to do that 
which is earthly and finite. 

Since God wished to make himself known in the finite, it could 
be done only by means of the finite and transitory. 

Whoever, therefore, calls the temporal, individual, finite, corpo- 
real, and bodily, bad in itself, in saying this contemns Xature in 
itself : indeed he, to speak truly, slanders God. 

Just in the same way it is treason to humanity and man to say 
that he is according to his nature, that he is in himself, neither 
good nor bad ; and it is higher treason to say that man is in him- 
self and according to his nature bad. A man saying this annihi- 
lates God for the human being; for he annihilates the work of 
God, and thus the means and way of truly knowing God, and so 
brings the lie, the only fount of all evil, into the w^orld. 

Section 52. 

If there is an evil which can be called evil in itself, it is this, 
because it is the first evil. But the lie has no existence in itself; 
it is already annihilated, and, as it is already annihilated according 
to its nature, will also be annihilated as an appearance, for man is 
created neither with lying nor for lying, but with and for truth. 
Man also does not create the lie from himself, from his nature, but 
man can and does create the lie just because he is created by God 
for truth. Man creates the lie when he does not acknowledge this 
for himself or for others. Man creates the lie by hindering the 
human being from recognizing this in himself from the pure fount 
of his being, and from making others acknowledge it. 

The destiny of man as an earthly being is that body and soul 
be developed consciously and reasonably in a certain symmetry and 
proportion. If man could only come to a pure and clear knowledge 
of his being, if he, when he has come to a whole or partial knowledge 
and insight, were not made so strengthless, and devoid of will, by 
pampering and debilitating, he would of his own accord throw off 
all incorrectness, even the appearance of evil, which is in man and 
is done by man, which, as it were, clothes him, and sm-rounds him as 
a wall of deceit. All this incorrectness and wrong has its foundation 
merely in the disturbed relations of these two sides of man, his nature 
and his being. 


Therefore an originally good but misshaped or displaced quality, 
a good effort, only repressed, misunderstood or misdirected, or 
misled, lies at the foundation of all appearance of incorrectness in 

And therefore the only but never delusive means of annihilating 
and abolishing all incorrectness, even wickedness and evil, is to exert 
one's self to seek and find the original good fount of the human 
being, in the misshaping, disturbing, or misguiding of which lies 
the cause of the incorrectness, and, having found it, to nourish, 
foster, strengthen, and rightly guide it. Thus will the incorrectness 
finally disappear, though not without laborious combat, not with the 
original, but ivWi the habitual evil in man; and this disappearance 
will take place so much the more quickly and surely because man 
himself abandons the path of incorrectness ; foi' man prefers the right 
to the wrong. 

Section 53. 

So, selecting one point from the many, it cannot be denied that 
there is now extremely little actually childlike, genuinely innocent 
feeling, very little brotherly tolerance, very little genuine religious 
feeling, in the child-world and boy-world, but, on the contrary, much 
seK-seeking, unfriendliness, especially roughness, etc., rule in these 
worlds. The cause thereof lies simply and only in the fact that 
the feeling of community is not only not early awakened, or later 
nourished, in the child and boy, but, on the contrary, is early dis- 
turbed, even annihilated, between parents and children. 

If, therefore, genuine brotherliness, genuine childlikeness, trusting^ 
genuinely loving, innocent feeling, peaceableness, consideration and 
respect for playmates and fellow-men, are again to become prevalent, 
they can become so only by being connected with the feeling of com- 
munity abiding in each man (however much or little of it may be 
found), and by fostering this feeling with the greatest care. Then 
we also will certainly soon again possess that, the absence of which 
in respect to family life, human life, and religious life we now feel 
with the greatest pain. 

Another cause of many boyish errors is the over-haste, the want of 
caution, the frivolousness, in a word the thoughtlessness, — that is, the 
acting according to an impulse quite blameless, guiltless, even praise- 
worthy, — which captivates all the activity of body and senses, but the 
consequences of satisfying which in this individual case did not show 


themselves to the boy in his life-experience ; and also it did not at all 
enter his mind to define to himself the conseqnences of the act, from 
a consideration of the thing itself. 

So a boy whose mind is far from being evil powdered with pure 
powdered gypsum the wig of an uncle very dear to him, with real 
delight in his work, and without the least thought of wrong, still less 
without thinking that the sharp, ground stone must be injurious to 
the hair. 

Another boy found in a great tub of water some deep round bowls 
of porcelain : he accidentally remarked that these bowls, falling uj)side 
down on the smooth, quiet surface of the water, gave out a ringing- 
sound with a quickening movement. This phenomenon gave him 
pleasure : he tried it often, assuring himself that the bowl could not 
break in the deep, yielding water. This proceeding often succeeded ; 
and, in order to make the effect more agreeable, the bowl must be 
dropped from greater and greater heights. 

But once the bowl fell down so horizontally, and on the horizontal 
surface of the water, that the air compressed between the arch of the 
bowl and the water could not yield on any side, and yet was so pressed 
together that its force separated the perfectly uncracked bowl into two 
almost equal pieces. The little self -teaching, experimental philosopher 
stood concerned and troubled at the unexpected result of the highly 
enjoyable play. 

Yet the boy is far more short-sighted, almost unbelievably short- 
sighted, in following his impulses. 

Another boy threw stones for a long time at the small window 
of a neighboring building, with earnest effort to hit it, but without 
anticipating, or even saying to himself, that, if the stone hit the 
window according to his desire, the window must necessarily be 
broken. The stone hits; the window breaks; the boy stands rooted 
to the spot. 

So another boy, by no means malicious, on the contrary a very 
good-hearted boy, w^ho dearly loved and took care of the doves, aimed 
at his neighbor's beautiful dove which was on the ridge of the house, 
with perfect delight, and earnest effort to hit the mark, without con- 
sidering, that, if the bullet hit it, the dove must inevitably fall ; with- 
out the further consideration that the dove might be a mother whose 
young were still in need of her care. He shot ; the bullet hit ; the 
beautiful dove fell : a beautiful pair of doves were separated, and the 
young doves, scarcely fledged, had lost the mother who had fed and 
warmed them. 


It is certainly a very deep truth, a non-acknowledgment of which 
avenges itself daily, that it is mostly the man, often the educator, who 
first makes the child and the boy bad. This takes place when one 
always attributes an evil, bad, or at least a wrong intention to all 
which, on the part of the boy or child, takes place either from want 
of knowledge, inconsiderateness, or is, indeed, the consequence of a 
very clear and acute percej)tion of the right and wrong around him, 
and so from a very virtuous and praiseworthy feeling of the right. 

There are, alas ! still such mischievous men among the educators : 
they always see in the children and boys little, wicked, spiteful devils, 
where others would see, at worst, a jest carried too far, or the too free 
manifestation of their enjoyment of life. Such birds of evil, especially 
as educators, first make guilty such a child, who, though not fully 
innocent, is yet guiltless; for they put ideas and actions into him 
which are as yet foreign to him ; they make him bad in act, though 
not at first in will ; they beat him spiritually dead, so that he recog 
nizes that he has not this life from himself, and cannot give it to him- 
self. But the genuine life is now gone. He cannot give it to himself ; 
and what now avails knowledge without deed ? what avails the power- 
less wish without the power of action ? That which these educators 
have made bad and evil by believing that a child cannot attain to the 
possession of heaven, cannot carry a heaven in his mind, without pre- 
viously, to speak mildlj'-, going to it through guilt, — that will the dear 
God make good ; and tliat they call making the child pious. 

This proceeding is like that of the little kind-hearted child who says, 
with firm conviction, about his fly or his bug, which, from his much 
handling, is feeble, also, indeed, footless, " it is tame." So there are 
still children and boys who, with great seeming incorrectness, on 
account of not perceiving, not considering, and also not knoM'ing, the 
outward relations of life, since they give themselves up so wholly to 
the attracting inner life, yet liave the most inward yearning and desire 
to be good and virtuous. But such boys, alas! become actually bad in 
themselves, just because they are too frequently not only not under- 
stood, but even misconceived, in their most fervent strivings. But yet, 
if this acknowledgment of their striving should come to them at the 
right time, they would certainly often become the most virtuous of 
men without comparison. 

Yes, children and boys are often punished l)y adults, parents, and 
educators, for faults and errors which they had perhaps previously 
acquired from the adults. 


Punishment, especially punishment by word, very frequently first 
implants faults in the children, and even brings first to their knowl- 
edge faults which they do not at all possess. 

Section 54. 

The man, therefore, sins far more against the children than against 
God ; for what power has the bad action of the good-for-nothing child 
over the proved, acknowledged virtue of the father? Yet what harm 
this child can do to the soul and body of a younger child by word and 
deed ! This is also the relation of man to man, and of man to God. 

Section 5.5. 

As has been already indicated, a deeper, more anticipating, more 
yearning feeling in the boy's mind goes through all that he does in 
this space of time. All his actions have a character in common ; for 
he seeks to find the unity which unites all things and all beings, and 
thus also to find himself in and among all things. 

A yearning which he himself cannot explain attracts him especially 
to the things of Nature, — to the plants, flowers, etc., which dwell in 
obscurity ; for a sure feeling tells him that what will satisfy the yearn- 
ing of his mind is not manifest and outward, but must be demanded 
from obscurity and gloom. 

The nourishment of this yearning is not only early neglected, but 
even the efforts of the boy to nourish it himself are, alas ! too early 
disturbed ; for the naturally-trained boy of this age, though feebly and 
unconsciously, though the indications of his seeking are unknown 
to himself, actually seeks only the unity w^hich unites all things, the 
necessarily living unity, the cause of all things, — God. The boy 
seeks not the god made and formed by human skill and human 
understanding, but Him who is always near to heart and mind, to the 
living spirit, and therefore known only in spirit and in truth, and 
to whom only such aspirations can rise. 

The boy in his maturity finds satisfaction only in having foimd 
Him whom he had anticipated in his inexplicable yearning and seek- 
ing, because then only has he first found himself. 

Hence the freely-active inner and outer life of the boy in the 
school-age and as a scholar. 

Now what is school ? 

Paet IV. 


Section 56. 

School is the effort to bring the scholar to the right consciousness 
of the nature and inner life of things and of himself; to teach him 
to know, and to make him conscious of, the inner relation of things to 
each other, to the scholar, and to the living cause and clear unity of 
all things, — to God. 

The aim of this instruction is to bring the child to an insight into 
the unity of all things, and to the rest, existence, and life of all 
things in God, in order to be able to act and work in life in accord- 
ance with this insight. The way of attaining this purpose is instruc- 
tion, teaching. 

Therefore the outer M'orld, and he himself as belonging to it in 
a certain respect, comes to the scholar by school and instruction as 
a thing opposite to him, separate from him, foreign to him, and 
diiferent from him. 

Then the school demonstrates further the inner directions, rela- 
tions, and references of particular things to one another, and mounts 
thus to higher and higher generality and spirituality. 

Therefore the scholar and boy, as he enters the school, rises from 
the outward view" of things to a higher spiritual view. 

This coming-out of the child from the outer and superficial, and 
his entrance into the inner view of things, which, because it is inner, 
leads to recognition, insight, and consciousness, — this coming-out of 
the child from the house order to the highej' world order makes the 
boy a scholar, the school a school. 

The school as an institution for the appropriation of a larger 
or smaller quantity of manifoldnesses, and therefore externalities make 


the school by no means a school, but only the intellectual, living 
breath which animates all things, and in which all things move. 

Would that all those who apply themselves to the guidance, 
management, direction, etc., of the school as a vocation, would deeply 
reflect upon this ! 

Therefore the school purely as such presupposes a clear conscious- 
ness which, as it were, hovers between the outside world and the 
scholar, unites the being of both in itself, bears the inner nature 
of both in itself, forms a connection between the two, gives speech 
and reciprocal understanding to both; and this consciousness is the 
master in this art, and therefore called master, because he is to be 
in a position to demonstrate the unity of things, at least for the 
majority. He is a schoolmaster, because he is to demonstrate the 
inner nature of things to himself and to others, and to bring himself 
and others into an insight into this nature. 

Every school-child anticipates, hopes, believes, and requires this 
from his schoolmaster. This anticipation, this hope, and this belief 
form the invisil;)le, efficacious bond between them. 

This anticipation and hope, this childlike faith of the children, 
is indeed the means by which our old schoolmasters effected much 
more for the promotion of genuine inner life in their children than 
many of the present school-teachers who familiarize the children 
with so great a quantity of things without showing and connecting 
them in their necessary spiritual unity. 

Do not reply that, even if this higher view of the school be true, 
and if a spiritual inner type of the same have existence, it would be 
very difficult to actually demonstrate it, at least wdiere a tailor as 
schoolmaster sits on his table as on a throne, and the school-children 
below him recite their a-b, ab, arid their sum total of all teaching in 
a sing-song fashion ; and where an old wood-cleaver in a dark city 
room in winter drives in the explanation of the little Lutheran 
Catechism as he does his wedge in wood-splitting, there would indeed 
be no question of a spiritual breath, being, and life ! 

But this is just the question: otherwise, how could the blind show 
the way to the lame? and the crippled help the weak upon their 
legs ? Nothing but the anticipation and faith of the child and boy, 
the idea of the child who hopes and believes that his schoolmaster, 
just because he is a school-master, can therefore inwardly and spiritu- 
ally unite that which is outwardly separate, can give life to the dead, 
and significance to life. 


This anticipation, however misty, however obscured, it may be, 
is the only means by which the schoohiiaster effects w^hat he does 
effect : this anticipation and faith are the all-vivifying air by which 
the stones he gives the children to eat become food, if not for their 
heads, yet for their hearts. This anticipation, hope, and yearning, 
this all-vivifying breath, is what makes his school so dear to the 
schoolboy, though it should blow within four smoky walls. 

The genuine spirit of the school, like the spirit of Jesus and of 
God, comes not by outward observation; and so schoolrooms as such 
are not airy if the breath of the higher spiritual life be excluded from 
them. Clear, bright schoolrooms are a great and precious gift, and 
worthy the daily thanks of teacher and scholars ; but they, as such, 
do not supply this breath. 

Luther's words, " to fast and prepare one's self bodily is indeed a 
fine outw-ard exercise, but he is w^orthy and well prepared who has 
faith and trust," find here also their application. 

The faith and trust, the hope and anticipation, with which the 
child enters the school, produce all the gigantic results in the above- 
named schools. For the child enters the school with the childlike 
belief, the quiet hope, the dim anticipation, that here he will be taught 
something which he cannot learn outside the school : here he will 
receive food for his spirit and mind, and outside, food for his body 
only : so the child later hopes and anticipates that here he will find 
food and drink which satisfy hunger and thirst, there food and drink 
for which he again hungers and thirsts. 

With this faith also, he hears the customary speech in the mouth 
of the man who is his schoolmaster. 

If the speech and word contain no high spiritual thought, yet 
the child's faith finds it in them ; and the high spii'itual power of 
digestion of the child draws nourishment from wood and straw. 

If, now, even the tailor, or wood-cutter, or weaver, when he teaches, 
ceases to be a tailor, wood-cutter, or weaver to the child, but becomes 
to him what he is called, a schoolmaster, how much more is this 
the case when the schoolmaster in village or city, whether he be 
called organist, chorister, or rector, is or was truly a schoolmaster. 
But each genuine school-child, every one who has been a genuine 
school-child in village or city, inquires of himself with what feelings 
he approached the schoolhouse, and yet more with what feelings he 
entered the schoolroom ; how it always w^as to him as if he entered 
a higher intellectual world of which he was each day more or less 


How otherwise could it be possible that children who have been 
taken to school scarcely a whole week could daily repeat a text from 
the Sunday preaching — " Seek ye first the kingdom of God " — for 
more than a quarter of an hour without weariness, and with a feeling 
of heightened life? 

And how otherwise were it possible that songs so rich in metaphor, 
and so extraordinarily full of figures as " It costs much to be a 
Christian," " May my heart and spirit soar to thee," could be daily 
sung by each scholar for a whole week in portions, even appropriated, 
or, as it is outwardly called, " learned by heart," with pleasure, with 
true inner exaltation, and with active influence on his life, not in the 
mature, but in the middle stage of boyhood ; and so thoroughly 
learned by heart that youth and man in the storms and pressure of 
life could rest on them as on a rock, and raise himself by them as 
by a tree ? 

The petulance of the boy in the school is no contradiction to this. 
The boy feels more free, and moves more freely, just because of the 
effect of the school, of the heightened inner intellectual power and 
the attained aim of the school, the nourishment afforded by it. 

The genuine schoolboy should not hang his head and be indo- 
lent, but should be fresh in spirit and life, vigorous in mind and 

Therefore the actually wilful schoolboy, gayly yielding to his 
hearty, high spirits, scarcely imagines that it can have any injurious 
result in respect to the outer life. 

It is a very false idea that the inworking, animating, uniting 
(intensive) power of man increases with years and cultivation. The 
inworking, animating, uniting' power decreases, while the expansive, 
outworking, forming, diversifying (extensive) power increases. 

The feeling and consciousness of the extensive forming power in 
man destroys, alas ! so frequently, the recognition and acknowledg- 
ment of the inworking, animating, uniting power before existing. 
This and the alternation of the two in the nature and in the appear- 
ance of the child leads us in life to the great mistakes in the school- 
system and in the guidance of the children, which we so frequently 
meet, and which take from the life of each one its real foundation. 

We now trust too little to the inworking and uniting power in 
childhood and early boyhood ; we expect too little of it as a spiritu- 
ally animating power. Therefore it accomplishes so little, even in 
later boyhood ; for the non-use of the inner j^ower makes the inner 
power die out. 


Or we play with the power commg forth in the children, and 
remarked by them; therefore it is to us with them as w^ith a magnet 
which one idly allows to hang, or even to lie, without supplying it 
with any thing to carry, or who lawlessly plays with its magnetic 
effects. In both cases the power decreases, or is wholly lost : if the 
magnet be required later to show its power, it is found powerless, 
it has no effect. So with these children : if we wish later to give 
them physically and morally something to bear, they prove them- 
selves weaklings. 

Would that we, in order to attain to a right judgment and estmia- 
tion of the animating power of child and boy, might never forget 
what one of our greatest Germans said, that thei'e is a greater step 
from an infant to a speaking child than from a schoolboy to a 
Newton ! 

If, therefore, the step up to childhood be a greater step, the power 
must also be higher. We should ponder upon this. The later extension, 
manifoldness, individuality, and formed state of the man's knowledge 
and insight (of his extensiveness) dims and even destroys the 
apprehension of the earlier unity, union, and vividness (intensiveness) 
of the human being: therefore it is the spirit only which makes the 
school a school, the room a schoolroom. It is not the yet greater 
dismemberment and isolation of what is single in itself, which indeed 
knows no bounds, and repeatedly sets up a new cause for dismember- 
ment and isolation, which makes the school a school, but the union 
of the indi\idual and the divided, by observation, perception, and 
recognition of the uniting spirit, which abides in all individuality 
and all manifoldness. 

Never forget that the teaching and communication of a multi- 
plicity of facts does not make the school a school, but only the 
giving prominence to the eternally living unity that is in all things. 

But, because this is now so frequently forgotten or disregarded, 
there are now so many school-teachers and so few schoolmasters ; 
so many educational institutions, but so few schools. 

One may indeed not know, or at least may not have stated and 
may still not state with sufficient clearness and precision, what spirit 
actually breathed in genuine schools, and even yet breathes here 
and there ; what spirit and what breath is yet to actually animate 

The genuine, true schoolmaster, in the simplicity of his calling, may 
indeed not have himself recognized the spirit, may not have named 


and declared it ; and even now, ^Yhile thoroughly penetrated by it, in 
loyalty to his calling may not himself recognize, name, and declare it. 
But just for that reason it disappeared so easily and quickly, and 
now disappears more and more. 

We see also confirmed, what to our sorrow we so often find in life, 
that even the highest, most precious good is lost to man, if he does not 
know what he possesses, if he is not conscious of it, and therefore 
does not hold it fast and represent it of his own accord with conscious- 
ness and freedom. The anticipation and hope, the faith and thought, 
of the child, point out the way indeed ; but the consciousness, insight, 
and self-determination of the man must clearly and enduringly retain 
it. For man is destined to consciousness and to acting with freedom 
by his own choice. 

Section 57. 

With the vivid presentation of what school is, and is to be, comes 
out also the truth that the object in which the boy is to be instructed 
is also at the same time the one ahout which he is to be instructed : 
otherwise the instruction and learning remain a thoughtless play, 
without effect on head and heart, spirit and mind. 

What has been said will answer, or make it easy to answer, the 
questions : Shall there be schools ? Why shall there be scliools and 
instruction ? What and how shall they be ? 

We as spiritual and corporeal beings are to become thinking, con- 
scious, rational (perceiving, that is, feeling and experiencing with self- 
knowledge), and therefore discreetly-acting men. We are to seek first 
for cultivation of our power, of our spirit, as received from God, for 
the exhibition of the godlike in life, knowing that then justice and 
satisfaction will be secured for all earthly things. AVe are to increase 
in wisdom and understanding with God and man in things human 
and divine. We are to know that we are and shall be in Him who is 
our Father. We are to know that we, and all things upon earth, are, 
in accordance with our earthly existence, a temple of the living God. 
We are to know that we are to be perfect like our Father in heaven, 
and we are faithfully to act and work in conformity with this knowl- 
edge. To this the school is to lead us ; for this reason there should 
be schools and instruction ; for this reason they should be constituted 
in conformity with this aim. 



Section 58. 

What now shall the school teach ? 

In what shall the boy be instructed as a scholar ? 

Only the contemplation of what the development of man at the 
boy-stage is and requires can lead to the answer to this question. 
But the knowledge of what he is and requires proceeds from man's 
appearance as a boy. 

According to this appearance, according to the manner of his 
appearance, in what should the boy be instructed? 

The life and appearance of man as a boy at the beginning shows 
a lively impression of a peculiar, spii'itual self, and shows the dim 
anticipation that this spiritual self is limited by, proceeds from, and 
depends on, a higher Being, in whom also the existence of all things 
is limited, from whom all things proceed, and on whom all things are 
dependent. The life and appearance of man as a boy shows a lively 
feeling and anticipation of a living, vivifying breath, in which all 
things live, by which all things are invisibly surrounded, as the fish 
by the M^ater, and man and all creatures by the clear, pure air. 

Man as a boy, and as a beginning scholar, appears to perceive his 
spiritual nature, and to anticii>ate God and the spiritual nature of all 
things. He appears in effort and by effort to make the perception 
more and more clear, and to confirm the anticipation. 

Man as a boy faces the outer world, which in itself opposes him, 
with the hope and faith that a similar spirit lives in it and over it as 
lives in him and over him ; that it is penetrated by a similar spirit to 
that which penetrates him ; and he is drawn by an inward, irresistible 
longing, — recurring with each new spring and autumn, with each new, 
fresh morning and quiet evening, with each peaceful, festal day, — to 
become conscious of this all-ruling spirit, and, as it were, to appro- 
priate it. 

The outer world api^ears to man in the stage of boyhood with a 
twofold expression : first, conditioned by and proceeding from the 
requirement and power of man ; or, secondly, conditioned by the 
power working in Xature, and proceeding according to the require- 
ments of this power. 

Speech comes forth between this outer world of form and body 


and the inner world of mind and spirit, originally appearing as one 
with both, and by degrees indei)endently extricating itself from both, 
but by so doing connecting both worlds. 

Section 59. 

So mind and outer world {Nature, here first of all), and the inter- 
mediate which connects them, language, are the poles of boy-life, as 
they were of the whole human race in the first stage of its maturity 
(as the Sacred Books show). By these the school and the instruction 
should lead the boy to a threefold but single recognition of himself 
in all respects, and thus to the recognition of man in general, accord- 
ing to his nature and relations ; to the recognition of God, the eternal 
condition, the eternal cause, and the eternal fount of his being and of 
the being of all things ; to the recognition of Nature and the outer 
world as proceeding from and limited by the spiritual. 

The instruction and the school should lead man to a life and 
course of conduct in accord with this threefold yet single recognition. 
The school and the instruction should lead the boy by this threefold, 
single recognition, from inclination to will, from activity of will to 
firmness of will, and, thus constantly advancing, to the attainment 
of his destiny, his vocation, to the attainment of his earthly per- 


A. Concerning Religion and Religious Instruction. 

Section 60. 

Religion is the effort to raise to clear consciousness the anticipa- 
tion that the individual, spiritual self which man perceives, the spirit 
of man, was originally one with God, and is to be in the union with 
God founded upon this consciousness, and to continue to live in this 
union with God in every position and every relation of life, untroubled 
and unweakened. Religion is not a fixture, but a constantly advan- 
cing effort, and just on that account has a constant existence. 

Religious instruction is to animate, to confirm, to clear, the percep- 
tion of a spiritual self, of the soul, of the spirit and mind as resting 
in, limited by, and proceeding from, God; to make known the proper- 
ties and nature of the soul, of the spirit and mind limited by God ; to 


give ail insight into the necessary nature and workings of God ; to 
give an insight into the rehitions of God to man as they are made 
known in the individual mind and life of each person ; in life as such, 
and especially in the life and history of the development of humanity 
which has been preserved in, and made known by, the Sacred Books 
which have applied this knowledge to life as such, and especially to 
the individual life of each person ; which have applied it to the con- 
tinuous development and improvement of humanity, to the representa- 
tion of the divine in the human, and so to the recognition and 
fulfilment of the duties of man ; that is, to what man has to foster in 
accordance with his natui'e ; to present and demonstrate the means 
and way ; to give sufficient aid to the effort to continue to live in true 
union with God, or, if this effort be disturbed, to re-establish it. 

Therefore religious instruction always presupposes religion, weak 
though it be. 

Eeligious instruction can be fruitful, influential in life, acting upon 
it only in proportion as it finds true, though as yet formless, indefinite, 
and unconscious religion in the mind of man. 

If it were possible that a human being could be without religion, 
it would also be impossible to bring religion to him. 

This should be considered by the frivolous parents who let their 
child grow up even to the school-stage without affording the slightest 
nourishment to the religiousness of his mind. 

Knowledge and insight into the nature of religion — simple though 
it is, though it lies in the nature of man, and so is one with man — 
so rarely shows itself pure, and it is so hard for it to show itself pure, 
because man, as at the same time corporeal and living in space, always 
presupposes and underlays a separation of that which has been one ; 
but God and the spiritual, eternally self-disclosing, remain one and 
undivided just because of spirituality, and because the conception of 
union in itself, however dim it may be, always underlays the concep- 
tion of union in space or time in the mind of man. But just as little 
as a genuine oneness in the past presupposes a separation (as, indeed, 
the former precludes the latter), just as little is the connection with 
space and time required and conditioned by union, the one excluding 
the other. 

In the circle of experience and perception this fact is illustrated and 
made clear by far more experiences than are needed ; for the idea, 
the vivid, formed thought, which man puts into any outside work, 
was du'ectly one with his being, and, indeed, bears within itself the 


speaking personality and individuality of this man. This thought 
belongs in this particular form to this man t)nly; and were it to 
become conscious of itseK in the form given to it, could it return to 
the totality of the thought of the man who has thought it, that is, 
could it give an account of its relation to the totality of the thought 
of this man, it would consciously further develop and continue to cul- 
tivate this relation, and could consequently raise itself to an anticipa- 
tion of the whole thought of this man : it would, indeed, even be able 
to raise itself to at least a dim anticipation of the fundamental thought 
of the man in whom it has arisen. For each man has actually but 
one single thought of his own, especially and pre-eminently belonging 
to him, which is, as it were, a fundamental thought of his whole being, 
the keynote of the symphony of his life, which he strives to make 
clear and represent through a thousand other thoughts, through all 
his actions. And, nevertheless, the man has by no means in any 
respect become less by the representation of this living, formed 
thought, and by all the thoughts within him outwardly represented in 
all shapes and forms. And although this thought now appears placed 
outside of the man, yet the man whose thought it is will willingly and 
always recognize it as his own, and work constantly for its improve- 
ment and continued cultivation. 

The thinker and the thought (if the latter were conscious of itself) 
must both be always vividly penetrated by the fact of having formerly 
been one; and nevertheless the thought is not the thinker himself, 
although, according to its nature, one and single : such is the relation 
of the human spirit to God. 

A father has one or many sons. Each is an independent, conscious 
being; but who can controvert or deny that not every son expresses in 
individuality the nature of the father ? 

Each son bears within himself the father's nature wholly, but in 
individuality in a manner peculiar to himself, but in this case altered 
by the life and being of the mother. Nevertheless, no division has 
taken place in the father by this independent existence of the son ; 
the fatherly spirit, the fatherly mind, the fatherly life, is not divided 
or lessened by giving life and existence to the sons. 

The son, and each of the sons, is, even in the smallest particular, 
the father, only in new individuality: indeed, sons of one and the 
same father, of the same parents, resemble each other in opinions, 
speech, tone, and movements, so that one can be, in many respects, 
put in the place of the other without taking into account the trifling 


new individuality. Nevertheless, no one of them is a part of the 
others. Each is whole : no one is a special part of the father. As 
they are whole and midivided, so also is the father whole and 

If we would perceive the hnnian with human clearness, we would 
thus anticipate, yes, know, the godlike. 

Just as little, also, does union presuppose a connection with time, 
space, or material. Cannot the thinking, feeling man be at one with 
his friends and beloved ones, even act in union with them, although 
separated from them by lands and seas ? Cannot and does not the 
human spirit feel in union with men of whom it has only heard, whom 
it never saw, and never will see ? Does it not act in union with such 
men ? Cannot man feel in union with men who lived and worked 
thousands of years before, or who may appear thousands of years later 
as individual beings upon the earth ? Can he not act in union with 
these ? What might be guiding and enlightening to man he spurns ; 
but for that reason, also, he so often gropes without guide or light 
where he so often needs both, to go up or down and to wander in the 
i:)rovince of the pin-ely spiritual, of that which is beyond time and 
space, in the province of the divine. 

It is and remains eternally true that in the pure and clear human 
relations, especially in the parental and spiritual human relations, are 
reflected the divine-human. 

And through those pure relations of man to man we recognize 
these relations of God to man and of man to God, we attain to seeing 
and perceiving the latter. 

Section 61. 

If man consciously and clearly recognizes that his spiritual self 
proceeded from God, w^as born in God and from God, was originally 
one with God, and as a necessary consequence constantly depends on 
God, is also in constant and uninterrupted, continuous communion 
with God ; if he recognizes his welfare, his peace, his joy, his destiny, 
his life, the genuine and only true life in itself, and the cause of his exis- 
tence in this eternal, necessarily conditioned dependence of his perso- 
nality upon God ; in the clearness of this recognition, in the vividness 
and constancy of a mode of action in accordance with this recognition 
and conviction, he thus recognizes himself as the child of God, if he 
acts and lives in accordance with this recognition. This is the Chris- 
tian religion, the religion of Jesus. 


Therefore a pure, eartlily, human, childlike relation, thought, and 
action is such as was told of Jesus ; he was subject unto his parents. 

Therefore a genuine fatherly and motherly, parental relation, 
thought, and action, w^hich honors, notices, and acknowledges in the 
child the yet unrecognized and undeveloped divine, is such as was 
said of ISlary ; — she pondered all these things in her heart. 

Therefore pure, human, parental, and childlike relations are the 
key to that heavenly, godlike, fatherly, and childlike relation and 
life, to the representation of a genuine Christian life, thought, and 

Therefore the penetration of the purely spkitual human, of J:he 
truly fatherly and childlike, of the genuine parental relations, is the 
only key to the recognition, perception, and anticipation of the divine- 
human relations, — the relation of God to man, of man to God. 

Only in the measure that we are thoroughly penetrated by the 
pure, spiritual, inward, human relations, and are faithful to them 
even in the smallest detail in life, do we attain to the complete knowl- 
edge and percex^tion of the divine-human relation ; only in that meas- 
ure do we anticipate them so deeply, vividly, and truly, that every 
yearning of our whole being is thereby satisfied, at least receives its 
whole meaning, and is changed from a constantly unfulfilled yearnmg 
to an immediately rewarded effort. 

We do not yet know, we do not, indeed, as yet anticipate, what is, 
notwithstanding, so near to us, what is one with our life, with our- 
selves ; we are not even faithful to the recognition and anticipation 
by word, on which we pride oui'selvas. This is daily evinced by our 
behaAdor toward our parents, toward our children, our human educa- 
tion. We wish to be God's children, and yet do not become, and 
are not, sons of om* fathers, of our parents. 

God must be our father ; and we are far from being the fathers of 
our children. AVe wish to see into the divine ; and we leave unnoticed 
the human which leads us to the divine. 

To see into, and to become and be penetrated by, the divine- 
human relation, is the wide-reaching blessing which rests upon pure, 
parental-childlike, and childlike-parental relations, and upon a life 
faithful to their requirements. 

We set outward bounds to the continually developing humanity ; 
we enclose them in outward bounds, and believe we have already 
reached these bounds in their earthly development. Humanity is to 
US now dead, standing still, instead of living only in and by continual 


development and cultivation, and not as it indeed is, an ever-renewed 

We do not know our oAvn nature and the nature of humanity, and 
yet wish to know God and Jesus. We believe that we already know 
our own nature and the nature of humanity fully : therefore we do 
not know God and Jesus. 

We separate God and man, man and Jesus, and yet wish to come 
to God and Jesus. AVe do not know and do not see that every out- 
ward separation conditions and presupposes an original inner union ; 
and, miambiguously as this is conveyed to us by the word and concep- 
tion of separation, we yet overlook it. 

The inward and individual relation of Jesus to God cannot be 
humanly indicated more comprehensively, more truly and suitably, 
than by the relation of the son to the father, — the highest and most 
fei-vent relation which man can recognize, perceive, and anticipate, 
but which is mostly viewed only outwardly, and not inwardly, spirit- 
ually, penetratingly noticed in accordance with its nature. But the 
child becomes a son, a genuine, real son, only when he develops the 
nature of the father in himself, and brings himself to consciousness 
and clear insight ; when he lets the opinions, nature, and efforts of 
the father be the moving cause of all his thinking and acting, and 
esteems conformity and likeness in behavior and action to the father, 
whose high worth he recognizes, to be his most beautiful vocation, the 
fount of the peace and joy of his life. 

Such is the pure, genuine high, but truly human relation of the 
son to the father, the relation of the true genuine son to the true 
genuine father. 

The word, the name of son, everywhere presupposes a conscious- 
ness (where it is used in its whole significance), an already attained 
consciousness, a sharing of the opinions and efforts of the father, a 
complete, essential, inward, spiritual accord of son and father. 

Of course, this relation takes place first of all with the oldest, the 
first-born son, would naturally take place with him first. While all 
his younger brothers are yet children, he is the only, the first-born 

Jesus is the only-begotten Son of God ; he is the beloved Son of 
God; for he is the first among all the human and earth-born, among 
all the heaven-born, who in his recognition and insight, in his think- 
ing, his opinions, and his deeds, was deex:)ly and vividly penetrated by 
his childlike relation to God, by God's fatherly relation to him : 
therefore is he the first-born of God, the first-born of all creation. 


The oft-repeated saying of Jesus — Believe in me; if ye would 
believe in me, — says therefore if you would anticipate, recognize, con- 
ceive, and understand that the highest which man (as a divine being 
who has made his appearance upon earth) can recognize, conceive, 
and perceive, — his having proceeded from God, and so his constant 
limitation by God, his dependence upon God, — is clearly and vividly 
expressed in me, in my life, in my thoughts, in my oj)inions ; if you 
would thus through me, through my life, my thoughts, my opinions, 
my behavior, my deeds, and my words, come to the anticipation, 
recognition, conception, and perception that each man is to raise 
himself to this insight, to this consciousness (which cannot be more 
highly, purely, and sufficingly designated than by the relation of 
father and son), and is to live in accordance with it, you would also 
raise yourselves to the true life, you would live as truly and eternally 
as God and I myself live eternally, you would thus receive through 
me the true eternal life, and 1 would give you the true eternal life. 

To acknowledge this, and to apply it to the representation of a 
pure, human life, is Christian religion. 

Christian religion is the eternal conviction of the truth of what 
Jesus said of himself, and a firm, endm'ing method of action faithful 
to this conviction ; it is the conviction that the truth of the knowledge 
expressed by Jesus comes to each man wherever he tm-ns with his 
spiritual, seeking, testing, examining, questioning eyes ; that this one 
truth, this one spirit, meets him everywhere, and that if man's spirit- 
ual eye would see and recognize this one divine truth, this one divine 
spirit everyv^'here in all manifoldness, he would then obtain from this 
spirit the consolation and help which he would need in representing 
this truth in a world where the cultivation of the inner, spiritual eye, 
is still so far withdrawn from the cultivation of the outer, sentient 
eye, the recognition and cultivation of the inner man from the knowl- 
edge and cultivation of the outer, that he would then rise to the high- 
est knowledge, not alone of man, but of all created beings ; that is, 
of all beings who have proceeded from miity to individualities, to the 
knowledge of the truth, 

that the infinite is represented in the finite ; 
the eternal in the temporal ; 
the heavenly in the earthly ; 
the living in the dead ; 
the di\'^ne in man. 


Christian religion is therefore the clear insight and conviction firmly 
and eternally grounded in itself, and far removed from error; and a 
life and mode of action in full accord and pure harmony with this con- 
viction and knowledge that the revelation and manifestation of the 
single eternal living being, God, must necessarily, just as a revelation, 
be threefold ; that God makes himself known and declares himseK in 
his unity as Creator, Preserver, Ruler, and Father of all things ; that 
he makes himself known and declares himself, has made himself known 
and declared himself, in and through a man who received his whole 
nature into himself, in a single being of the highest comj^leteness and 
perfection, who w^as therefore his Son, his only-begotten and first-born 
Son ; that God has made himself known and declared himself, and still 
uninterruptedly makes himself known and declares himself, in all mani- 
foldness, in all which apj)ears, in all which exists, in the workings, the 
life, the spirit of all things, as the one only life and spirit, the spirit of 
God, and this always as the single and living God. 

In the same maimer we, humanly indeed, but with deep spiritual 
significance, with exhaustive spiritual truth, say, the spirit of the 
peace, of the order, and of the purity of this family, expresses itself 
in each individual thing as well as in the whole house; so we cor- 
rectly and with true anticipation say, the spirit of the father expresses 
itself in all the children and in the whole family ; so we, with high 
creative truth, say, the spii'it of the artist goes forth from all, as well 
as from each of his works, and, with right sense and feeling of truth, 
we say it expresses itself vividly from them. 

The Christian religion brings with it the constant conviction that 
it is this recognition of the threefold revelation of God which leads 
not only men, but all creative beings (that is, beings who proceeded 
from the existence of the unity of God, as existent individuals) to the 
recognition of their existence, to the fulfilment of their vocation, to 
the attainment of their destiny ; and also the conviction that each 
individual, if he wishes to attain his destiny, must necessarily and 
inalienably (faithful to his being) make himself known and declare 
himself in constant, continuous manifoldness in this triune way, in 
unity and as unity, in individuality and as individuality, in manifold- 
ness and as manifoldness. 

The truth of this conviction is the sole foundation of all insight 
and knowledge. This truth, this conviction, is the true test of all 
action. This truth is the foundation of all religious instruction. By 
the recognition of, insight into, and application of, this truth, is Xatiu'e 


truly recognized as that which it is, as the work and book of God, as 
the revelation of God. 

By the recognition of this truth, the natural as well as the human, 
language, and all teaching and learning, all science and skill, receive 
first their true significance, their true life. By this conviction life 
first becomes a truly self-contained whole, a unity in itself, on all 
sides, and in all directions, and in all its phenomena. 

By this recognition and conviction, true genuine education of man 
first becomes truly possible. 

With the recognition of this truth, with insight into the nature of 
this truth, come light and life, and, if necessary, comfort, aid, and 
help, in all circumstances; and thus life first receives significance 
and aim. 

Therefore Jesus commanded his disciples. Go ye into all the world, 
and teach all nations ; glorify and consecrate them to the recognition 
of God the Father, of Jesus the Son of God, and of the holy spirit of 
God ; to a life suited to this recognition and insight, and to all insight 
necessarily proceeding therefrom. 

Therefore the truth of this threefold revelation and manifestation 
of the one God is the foundation and corner-stone of the religion 
sufficing for all men under all zones, which they, though dimly, antici- 
pate ; for which they yearn, although unconsciously, for it leads men 
in spirit and in truth, in insight and life, back to God. 

Each man as proceeding from God, existing through God, and 
living in God, is to raise himself to the religion of Jesus, to the Christ- 
like religion ; therefore the school must, first of all, teach Christian 
religion ; therefore it must, first of all and above all, give instruction 
in Christian religion ; everywhere and under all zones the school must 
instruct for and in this religion. 

B. Concerning Physics and Mathematics. 

Section 62. 
What religion says and expresses, Nature says and represents. 
What the contemplation of God teaches, Nature confirms. What pro- 
ceeds from the contemplation of the inner, the contemplation of the 
outer makes known ; for Nature, as well as all that exists, is the decla- 
ration and revelation of God. Every thing that exists has its founda- 
tion in the revealing of God. Every thing that exists has its founda- 
tion and existence only through the life abiding in God. 


Each thiiig is divine nature, divine being ; each thing is therefore 
again, relatively speaking, a unity, as God is unity itself ; each thing, 
therefore, because it is always a unity (though only relatively), also 
makes known its being in a threefold way by a threefold representa- 
tion and revelation of itself, and so only in and by constantly pro- 
gressing, therefore relatively all-sided development. This truth is the 
foundation of all contemplation and knowledge of Nature and of all 
insight into Nature. Without it, no genuine, true, fruitful investiga- 
tion and knowledge of Nature takes place. Without it, no true con- 
templation of Nature, leading to insight into the essence of Nature, is 

It is possible for the Christian only, for the man with Christian 
thought, life, and effort, to come to a true conception and vivid recog- 
nition of Nature ; only such a man can be a genuine naturalist. It is 
possible for man to approach to a true knowledge of Nature only when 
he is consciously or unconsciously, dimly or clearly, a Christian ; that 
is, when he is penetrated by the truth of the one living power of God 
working in all things ; when he is filled with the one living spirit of 
God, which is in all things, and to which he is himself subjected, 
through which all Nature has its being and existence, and through 
which he is in a condition to perceive this one spirit in its being and 
its unity, in the smallest phenomenon, and in the sum of all the phe- 
nomena of Nature. 

Section 63. 

The relation of Nature to God can be truly and clearly perceived 
and recognized by man through his perception of and making clear 
the inner and innermost spiritual relation of the genuine work of 
human art to the artist who has produced it. This relation can be 
secondarily perceived and recognized with each work of man in refer- 
ence to the man to whom it owes its origin. 

On aU which the spirit and the life creates, produces, and repre- 
sents, the spirit and the life must impress, implant, its nature ; spirit 
and life must impress its seal on all parts of what is represented. 

Absolutely nothing can appear, nothing visible and perceptible 
can be produced, which does not bear within it the life and spirit, the 
imprint of the spirit and life, of the being by whom it has been pro- 
duced, to whom it owes its existence. And this holds good in respect 
to the work of each man, from the highest artist to the most ordinary 
laborer, from the most visible to the most spiritual and most elevated 


works of man, from the most abiding to the most transient activity 
of man : so is it also with the works of God, Nature, the creation, all 
that is. 

The piercing, accurate glance can recognize in the work of art the 
capacities and laws of thought, and of perception of man in genera], 
as well as the degree of cultivation in thought, and perception in the 
individual creating man : so can the creating spirit of God be evolved 
from his works, and conceived of by observation of his w^orks. 

We do not notice this sufficiently with the works of man, with 
works of art ; therefore is it so difficult for us to recognize it in respect 
to Nature, the work of God. We do not sufficiently lay the founda- 
tion of the innermost spiritual relation of the artist to his work in 
contemplating works of art ; we look upon their origin too mechani- 
cally, too outwardly ; whereas they, if they are to be higli works of 
art, not hollow masks of art, are always a representation of the 
most individual, most inner life of the artist ; but for that reason, the 
genuine spirit of the work of art, like the spirit of Nature, remains 
distant from us, foreign and dead to us. As, now, the work of the 
artist bears within it, and humanly but exhaustively, sensibly, and 
significantly speaking, breathes out his spirit and character, his life 
and existence, and the man who produced it remains, notwithstanding, 
the same un weakened and un separated being, his power indeed even 
heightened, so also the spirit and being of God — although it is the 
cause and the fount of all that exists, and although all that exists 
bears within it this one spirit of God, breathes out tliis spirit that 
it may extend itself — remains in itseK the One Being, the One Spirit, 
unweakened and undivided. 

As no material part of the human spirit, of the artist, is in the 
work of art, and yet the work of art bears within it the whole spirit 
of its artist, so that he lives in it, expresses himself by it ; and as the 
work breathes forth again his spirit, even to others ; is awakened, 
developed, improved, and formed by his spirit; as thus the man's 
spirit is related to the work produced by him, as the man as a spirit 
is related to that he has produced — so is the spirit of God related to 
Nature and to all created things. The spirit of God rests, lives, and 
works in Nature, expresses itself by Nature, imparts itself through 
Nature, continues to shape itself in and by Nature ; but Nature is 
not the body of God. 

The spirit of the work of art, the spirit to which the work of art 
owes its existence, is the one undivided spirit of the artist; but it 


now continues to live and work (having, as it were, gone out from the 
artist) independently, and yet still with the artist's own spirit in his 
work of art : so the spirit of God, having proceeded from God, lives 
independently, and yet with God's own spirit, in Nature, and works 
on and by Nature. 

As Nature is not the body of God, God himself does not dwell in 
Nature as in a house ; but the spirit of God dwells in Nature, to pro- 
duce, protect, foster, and develop Nature. For does not even the 
spirit of the artist, though only a human spirit, dwell in his work, 
produce, protect, foster, and guard it? Has not the spu'it of the 
artist given earthly immortality to a block of stone, to an easily- 
perishable piece of linen, even to a winged and fleeting word, which 
passes away as soon as uttered, and to all his works, whether the 
artist be a musician, or an artist in words, drawing, or solids ? Plas 
he not given to the work of art expressed by himseK the most choice, 
careful fostering, the most tender protecting, the high esteem of the 
noblest human spirits as a lif e-dowery ? 

What man does not understand the lofty, powerful spirit of a 
pure, human work of art, that, like the pure glance of the helpless 
child, at once supplicates and commands? And yet it is the work of 
a human spirit, and this spirit protects and fosters it still, however 
long may be the time, and wide the space, which separates it from the 

Toward a genuine work of art created by the spirit of the artist 
— not of course toward the mechanical work, of which the maker 
thought little or nothing — this artist feels just like a father who lets 
his beloved son go away from him ; he sends this son on his way with 
his blessing, care, and protection. 

It is by no means a matter of indifference to the genuine artist 
who buys his work of art, as it is by no means a matter of indiffer- 
ence to a good father what society his son frequents ; but yet he 
trustingly and confidingly lets his son go into the world ; for his 
spirit and striving and thought rest on and in the son, as the charac- 
ter of the artist lives and breathes wholly in his work, in the smallest, 
most delicate parts, in each line, even in each way of connecting the 
lines; and the artist hopes that this spirit and character, M^hich lie 
knows to be in accordance with his high being and striving, will 
protect his work, will bring it to men who will receive the formed 
spirit into their own lives, and let it work in them and mould them. 

The work of art is external to the man ; no material part, no 


drops of life-blood, j)ass from the man into his work, and yet the man 
preserves, supports, fosters, and protects it ; he now removes from it, 
and seeks for the futm^e to remove from it, whatever may do it the 
slightest injury. Man is, and feels himself, one with his work of art ; 
how much more must God support and foster his work, Xature, and 
remove from it whatever will do it the slightest injury ! for God is 
God, and man is only man. Nevertheless the artist also, in what- 
ever department of art he may be, remains always independently and 
unchangeably the same in himself, is submersed in all his works ; so 
also God remains unchangeably the same, — he also might be sub- 
mersed in Nature. 

Indeed the work of art, the work of man, can, like Nature, the 
work of God, be outwardly submersed, and yet the spirit expressed in 
and demonstrated by it, living and working in it, may still continue to 
exist and unfold itself yet more. - Indeed it now forms itself for the 
first time with freedom, and reveals itself clearly and vividly. 

Each individual who works for his own aim, at whatever stage of 
insight it may be, understands, or should understand, the submersed 
power in the ruins of human art, whether it be the powerful work of 
individuals of gigantic power, or the colossal work of the scarcely yet 
conjectured, much less credited immense power of the many, most 
intimately connected for one common aim. 

Those ruins speak admonishingly to the weaker generations that 
follow ; and the generation that begins to be conscious of its own exist- 
ence raises itself, trusting in and encouraged by these signs of van- 
ished though by no means only external human power and human 
greatness. So the colossal remains of fallen moimtains and chains of 
mountains testify to the greatness of God ; and man also, encouraged 
by them, feeling like spirit and like power in himself, raises himself 
as the weak i\'y climbs the mighty rock, and absorbs from it strength 
and nourishment, not only for its continued existence, but also for its 
higher climbing. 

So the similar living and deep inner and spiritual references of man 
to the work of art, and of God to Nature, are everywhere continuing 
and pervading. 

If barbarians — rough, unfeeling, thoughtless men — destroy the 
work of art, destroy even the trace of a human spirit's having wandered, 
worked, and created, the noble, the human-feeling man sorrows almost 
more than if the life of an ordinary living being had been destroyed. 

But does not even the human work also bear with it independent, 
continuous cultivation of the inlying spirit and thought ? 


Cannot the expression of character of a work of art act upon 
whole generations, elevate them or ennoble them ? 

And yet this is effected by merely human art work ; and now what 
can, will, and must the works of God do ? What must Nature, the 
work of God, be to man ? We are very zealous to learn to know the 
life and strivings, etc., of human works ; we study human works and 
rightly. The undeveloped maturing man must grow by the develop- 
ment of matured man ; how much more shall we now exert om'selves 
to learn to recognize God's work, Nature, and to learn to know the 
objects of Nature, according to their life, their significance, and thus 
to learn to know the spirit of God ! 

And to this we should feel ourselves already drawn, already called 
by the fact that genuine human works of art by which the pure spirit 
of man, the spirit of God, is clearly expressed, are not easily to be 
obtained by every one, and in every relation of life, and at every 
instant; while man finds himself everywhere surrounded by pure 
works of God, by works of Nature from which the pure spirit of God 
clearly speaks. 

We can, it is true, also find and recognize the spirit of God by 
and in the spirits of men, but it is difficult in each individual case to 
distinguish the general human form from the particular human ; it is 
difficult to distinguish which of the two preponderates here, and which, 
at any particular time, is actually working. Yet here, with the pure 
works of Nature, the purely natural by far preponderates ; the particu- 
lar natural being retreats before the general. And so God's pure 
spirit not only comes forth more purely and clearly in Nature than in 
human life, but man sees in this spirit of God clearly expressing itself 
in Nature, the nature, the dignity, and elevation of man mirrored in 
their complete clearness, purity, and originality. 

But man by no means looks into Nature only in general (as has 
ah-eady been indicated), but he even looks into it as into a perceptible 
but living work, expressing not the conception, but the thing, the 
relation itself. He sees in Nature, as in a picture, his nature, his voca- 
tion, his destiny, the necessary limitations and necessary phenomena 
of the impeded and of the completed attainment of his vocation and 
destiny ; so that man, following these quiet, sure, certain, clear, and 
impersonal teachings of Nature, will not only surely recognize by 
them what is to be done in each instant of life, but, acting in accord- 
ance with these teachings, will certainly satisfy all demands upon him. 

Among all the objects of Nature none appear in respect to such 


teachings more true and clear, more complete and yet more simple, 
than the vegetable growth, the plants, and especially the trees, on 
account of their quiet thoughtfulness and the clear demonstration of 
their inner life. Thus the trees may be rightly termed natural objects 
for the knowledge of good and evil, since they actually are so, as they 
were thought and called with such comprehensive truth, with such 
depth and significance, even at the first appearance of the acquired 
consciousness of the human race. And not only the phenomena of 
individual human life can be perceived in- the tree-world, but also 
the indispensable phenomena of human development can be per- 
ceived (since the contemplation of self-development and individual 
development, and the comparison of these with the general develop- 
ment of the human race, shows that, in the development of the inner 
life of the individual man, the spiritual development of the history of 
the human race repeatedly expresses itself; and the whole human 
race can be looked upon in its totality as one man, in whom the 
necessary stages of development of the individual man can be dem- 
onstrated) ; but these phenomena are scarcely yet anticipated, much 
less clearly demonstrated with true precision, remote from all arbitra- 
riness and superficiality ; yet the parables of Jesus, if carried out and 
carried on, might lead to this clear demonstration. 

A much wdder ai^plication might be given to this perception and 
contemplation of Nature, which is here only touched upon, if it were 
not inadndssible on account of general complete ignorance of the 
subject, and if it were not founded upon an observation of the out- 
ward phenomena of Xature and upon an observation of the inner 
developments of one's own life which are now very rarely found. 

If we seek for the inner foundation of this high symbolical mean- 
ing of the different individual phenomena of Nature, especially in the 
stages of development of the objects of Nature and their phenomena 
in reference to man, to his stages of development, and the phenomena 
of those stages, we shall clearly perceive that it (the meaning) has its 
firm and sure foundation simply in the fact that Nature and man have 
their foundation in one and the same eternal, single Being, and that 
their development takes place according to similar laws, only in dif- 
fering stages. 

So, now, the contemplation of Nature and man in comparison and 
combination w^ith the facts and phenomena of the general develop- 
ment of humanity reciprocally explain each other, and each leads to 
the deeper knowledge of the other. 


By clear insight into the limiting, creating relation of the spirit of 
man to his outer work, man comes also to a clear insight and percep- 
tion of the relation of the limiting, creating spirit of God to his work, 
to Xature ; he also comes to the recognition of the way and manner in 
which the finite proceeds from the infinite, the corporeal from the 
spi]-itual, Nature from God : for even man also, though in appearance 
a finite being, does not always need outward-forming members (arms 
and hands) to bring forth his work, and present it outwardly; but 
even his will, his determining glance, his breathed-out word, forms, 
creates, and develops. Man also, although a finite being, can, without 
material, bring forth material to form. 

Whoever still lacks a proof of this need only go through the whole 
series of stages of development, limitations, and phenomena, from the 
most incorporeal, inward thought, to the most formed, most material 
word, even to writing. Therefore man, in his own thinking, can 
recognize and perceive, not as a conception, but through the pure fact 
itself, even that which is most difficult to perceive (the fact that the 
outward, the corporeal, has proceeded from the innermost, the most 
spiritual) as the effect and result of his most individual, innermost 
thinking, coming out into an outward work. 

Therefore as the spirit of the artist is in the work of art, as the 
spirit of the man is in the work of man, so is the spirit of God in 
Nature. As the work of art lives and moves in itself in accordance 
with its spirit and in reference -to its creator, so Nature (which is born 
of God) lives and moves in itself in accordance with its spirit, in 
reference to God its Creator, and in inner spiritual reference to man 
as a work of God, living in and through God, and radiating the spirit 
of God. 

As in the world of art the spirit of man appears and expresses 
itself invisibly yet visibly, and as the world of art is thus invisibly 
yet visibly a spiritual kingdom, so the spirit of God appears invisibly 
yet visibly in Nature, and Nature is thus invisibly yet visibly the 
kingdom of God. 

Section 64. 

To anticipate, to acknowledge that the kingdom of God is thus 
threefold (the visible, the invisible, and that which is invisible yet 
visible), and to let it influence our life, alone give us the peace which 
we from the first feeling of our selfhood seek within and without, and 
to which we are attracted even to the detriment of our own life, to the 


loss of our outward XDOssessions, of our out^yard liappiness, whatever 
it may be. 

Therefore man, especially in boyhood, should be made thoroughly 
intimate with Nature ; not according to its peculiarities, to the form 
of its jDhenomena, but to the spirit of God abiding in it as it lives and 
moves in and over Nature. 

This the boy also deeply feels and requires; for tnis reason 
nothing so firmly connects teacher and scholar with yet uncorrupted 
sense of Nature, as the common effort to employ themselves with 
Nature, with the objects of Nature. 

This should be considered by parents as well as by teachers of 
schools ; for this reason the latter should, at least once a week, go into 
the open air with each division of their school, not driving them out 
as a shepherd his sheep, nor leading them out like a company of sol- 
diers, both of which we have seen ; but the teacher should go with 
them like a father among -his sons, a brother among his brothers, 
and bring them to a nearer perception and conception of that which 
Nature or the season brings before them. 

School-teachers living in village or country must not reply to this, 
" My school-children are out all day thus ; they run about out-doors." 

Yes, they run about out-doors ; but they do not live out-doors ; they 
do not live in and with Nature. 

Not only children and boys, but many adults, are, in regard to 
Nature and its essence, as the common- man is to the air ; he lives in 
it, and yet scarcely knows it as something individual, still less accord- 
ing to its necessary property of maintaining bodily life ; for what in 
common parlance is called air are either the streams of air or the 
degrees of the warmth of the air. 

Therefore, even those children and boys who are always running 
about in the open air, perceive, divine, and experience nothing of the 
beauties of Nature and of their effect on the human mind ; it is with 
them as with those who live in and have grown up in a very beautiful 
country, who divine nothing of its beauty and its spirit. 

Yet — and this is the most essential — the boy divines, finds, and, 
with his own inner spiritual life, looks into the inner life of surround- 
ing Nature : but in and with the adult, the like does not come to him ; 
that germinating inner life is checked and stifled even at its beginning. 

Tlie boy requires from the adult the confirmation of his own inner 
spiritual perceptions, and rightly from his conjecture of what his 
elder should be, from his respect for his elders. 


But if lie does not find this confirmation, there is a twofold result, 
— disrespect for his elder, and (in himself) withdrawal of the original 
inner conception and perception. Hence the importance of the wan- 
dering of boys and adults in common efforts to take into themselves 
the life and spirit of ^N'atm-e, to let this life and spirit live and work 
within them, which would soon put an end to the idle, fruitless run- 
ning about of so many boys. 

The tormenting, in the manner of treating animals and insects, 
which we find especially in young boys who are very good-hearted 
and well-meaning (not the tormenting as such), has its foundation in 
the efforts of the little boy to obtain an insight into the inner life of 
the animal, to appropriate to himself its spirit. 

But non-explanation, want of guidance, misconstruction, mistak- 
ing, and misguidance of this impulse can later make such boys into 
actual, hardened tormentors of animals. 

Section 65. 

So the being and effect of Xature in its wholeness, appeared and 
appears to the inner contemplation as a representation by God, and of 
God ; as a word of God, expressing, communicating, and awakening 
the spirit of God in and by its totality. Yet it represents itself other- 
wise to the customary outward contemplation. Here it appears as a 
manifoldness amongst and in different and separate individualities, 
without definite, inner, living coherence; as individualities, each of 
which has its particular form, its particular course of development, its 
particular destination and aim ; without expressing that all these out- 
wardly different and separate individualities are organic, connected 
members of a great, living organism of Nature, of a great, inward, 
cohering whole of Nature ; without expressing that Nature is such a 

Section 66. 

This outward view of Nature, resting upon the individualities of 
the phenomena of Nature, upon the individual objects of Nature as 
different and separate, resembles the view of a great tree from with- 
out, where each leaf appears strictly separate and different from the 
others, — where, therefore, no inner bond goes from leaf to leaf, from 
twig to twig, within the little flower from calyx to petal, and from 
this to stamen and pistil ; but finally — when thoughtfully striving and 
looking with the inner eye for the nearest individualities, the nearest 


connecting link is sought and found, and so rising from each common 
unity to the next higher, and thus at last to the highest — shows itself 
as an outward phenomenon in the most deeply-hidden heart-point, and 
in the law which works therein. 

That outward contemplation of Nature in its individuality resem- 
bles the outward view of the starry heavens, which only combines the 
isolated stars into great constellations by arbitrarily drawn lines, but 
the clearest, sharpest, and most developed spiritual eye can alone divine 
the inner connection of the stars, — such an eye only can perceive this 
connection in the union of smaller world-wholes to greater ones. 

In this common and merely outward contemplation of Ifature, the 
individualities of the different and various objects of iSTature appear 
not so much as the production of One Being and Essence, as the 
result of different acting powers. Yet this view cannot suffice to the 
one and individual spirit of man, even in boyhood. 

Section 67. 

Therefore the man while still a boy seeks for this unity and union 
in this outwardly separate and various manifoldness and individu- 
ality ; he seeks for unity and union in a separation (proceeding from 
an inner necessarily developing law) of what to the outward view 
seemed disordered heaps grouped together. He is in boyhood satis- 
fied in his mind when he can conjecture this unity and union ; but 
he is first satisfied in spirit at a later period, when he finds them. 

But man is led by faithfully tracing out this manifoldness of 
Nature to the knowledge of the outer unity of the manifoldnesses 
and individualities of Nature, as the mentally tracing back the mani- 
foldnesses and individualities of a plant leads to the recognition of a 
deep-lying law which can be only spiritually discerned; for — with 
all the peculiarity, individuality, and separateness of the objects of 
Nature — the peculiar nature and the peculiar appearance, form, and 
figure of each thing recur always to the nature of the power as the 
ultimate, inner cause, as the connecting unity from which all mani- 
foldness and individuality act, and from which they proceed and on 
which they depend. But power ^ is according to its inner nature 
only conditioned in its own existence, proceeding from the existence 
through the w^orking as the outward appearance. Therefore power 
when appearing is the ultimate cause of each phenomenon in Nature. 

1 Translator's Note. Or force. 


From the contemplation of the nature of the power, as it has 
taught ns to know it as a divine power, and as it also 'proves itself 
to us in our own inner nature, inind, and life, Nature can also be per- 
ceived, recognized, seen into, according to its form and the numberless 
forms and figures in which it appears ; Nature also can be penetrated 
and seen into according to its living, inner, reciprocal references and 
degrees, as well as recognized according to its outward circumstances 
and its derivations. i\Ian is led to contemplate Natm-e by the keen 
desire, hope, and anticipation of finding, through the knowledge of 
Nature, the outer unity of the individualities of Nature, that is, of 
the different natural forms and figures. 

Section 68. 

But power in itself is a self-active, all-sided influence, having the 
same action either upon unity in itself or upon a relative unity, but 
always upon a unity ; and, at the same time with the existence of the 
power, the co-existence of its outward and backward striving is neces- 
sarily given and conditioned. 

All individuality and manifoldness as such show, however, besides 
the power, a second necessary outward limitation of the form and 
figure, viz., the material. They show that each earthly natural for- 
mation and form is born from the material which is fully adequate, 
which on every side bears similar relations of cohei'ence and consist- 
ence, and which js therefore in appearance extremely movable. All 
earthly forms are born of this material through the power everywhere 
synnnetrically dwelling within it, each part of which power resembles 
every other, and through and under the outward influence of the sun, 
of the light and warmth, in accordance with the jDervading great law 
of Nature — that the general calls into existence the particular. 

All individuality- and manifoldness of the forms of Nature, every 
inner perception of Nature, shows that material and power are insepa- 
rably one. 

Material and the spontaneous power which, proceeding from one 
point, acts equally on all sides, reciprocally condition each other ; 
neither exists nor can exist without the other, indeed, strictly speak- 
ing one cannot even be thought of without the other. 

The cause of the easy movability of the material is the original 
spherical tendency of the indwelling power, the original tendency of 
the power to develop and represent itself, spontaneously proceeding 
from one point and with like action on all sides. 


Section 69. 

Xow the power develops and represents itself in all directions in 
an all-sided, free, and unimpeded manner : therefore the appearance 
in space, the incorporate result of it, is a sphere. And so the spheri- 
cal, or, in general, the corporeal round form appears pervadingly to be 
most commonly the first as ^ve]l as the last natural form ; such as the 
great heavenly bodies, suns, planets, moons ; such as water and all 
fluid bodies, air and all gaseous forms, and the dust (the earthy in 
its finest pulverized form), each in its individuality. 

With all the manifoldness, and with the apparently incompatible 
difference of the forms of Xature, the spherical form appears to be 
the original form, the unity of all the natural forms. Therefore even 
the extensive corporeal sphere is like none of the other forms of 
Nature, and yet bears wdthin itself the nature, the limitation, and law 
of all. It is the formless, but, at the same time, the most formed. 

Xo j)oint, no line, no plane, no side, is predominant in the sphere ; 
and yet it is made up of points on all sides ; it bears within it all 
points, lines, etc. ; it bears within it not only the condition, but even 
tlie actuality, of all earthly forms. 

Therefore each and every formation of the working, living, and 
active objects of Nature, has its foundation in the law of the 
spherical ; each, considered as a result of power, and proceeding from 
the consijderation of the nature of the power, has its foundation in the 
tendency, necessarily existing in the nature of the power as such, to 
demonstrate by material the spherical nature of the power in every 
possible peculiar way, in all possible forms, ramifications, and con- 

For in and with the spontaneous working of the power, which 
has similar action on all sides, is at the same time given within the 
different sides and directions (as a phenomenon of Nature, and so 
connected w-ith the material) an inward fluctuating and imdulating 
weighing and measuring tendency, different quantity of the working 
of the power, and different tension of the power on different sides and 
in different directions. 

This differing relation of the quantity and strength of the work- 
ing of the power on different sides, which exists at the same time with 
the power, and consequently also with the material, and necessarily 
existing in the nature of the power as a phenomenon ; this precise, 
predominating action of the power in definite directions ; this definite, 


peculiar relation in the diiferent directions of the power among them- 
selves and to one another ; this different tension of the power in differ- 
ent directions, and the A^arious symmetrical separation of the material 
rendered necessary, and at the same time conditioned thereby, — 
must, as tlie principal property of the whole mass of the material, 
indwell in equal measure in each, even in the smallest point of this 

This peculiar relation and inner law of the w^orking power is in 
each particular case the essential cause of the precise form and figure. 

The fundamental law of all forms and figures lies in this various 
relation of direction and quantity of the working of the powers, in this 
various tension, and in the consequent easy separability of the material 
in these planes and directions of tension. 

The possibility of recognizing these forms and figures with respect 
to their nature, relations, and coherence, lies in the clear perception 
of this law. 

But since, now, each thing makes itself completely known only 
when it represents its nature in unity, individuality, and manifold- 
ness, and so in and by the necessary triune way ; so, also, the nature 
of the powder makes itself fully and completely known only in such a 
triune representation of its nature by and in formation, in which the 
two other tendencies of Nature (to represent the particular by means 
of the general, and the general by means of the particular ; and to 
make the internal external, and the external internal ; and to repre- 
sent unity for both, and both in unity) are at the same time 
conditioned, and from which they proceed as a necessary continued 

In this triune representation of the nature of the power in union 
with those general tendencies of Nature by material and in formation, 
each individual form of Nature, and thus the manifoldness of Nature, 
has its foundation. 

Section 70. 

But one and the same power works in one and the same material, 
either dismembering in many single phenomena, or it works generally 
undivided ; or it works within its law of formation either predomi- 
nantly toward one or the other relations of extension of height, 
length, and breadth, and thus conditions various appearances of the 
fixed (the crystalline) forms, — such as the fibrous, the radiate, the 
granulous, the leafy, the laminated, as well as the membraneous, and 


needle-formed, etc., formations. The former is caused by the fact 
that so many individual points of the material strive to represent 
their law of formation as is only possible within a relatively large 
mass, but by their mass itself reciprocally hinder the formation and 
perfection of their crystals. The second is caused by the fact that 
the law of formation strives to represent itself prevailingly and pre- 
dominantly in one or several common relations of extension. 

A pure and complete crystal, which represents also outMardly the 
relations of quantity of its inner direction of power by its figure, is 
formed when all the different parts of the material and all the indi- 
vidual points of the acting power which has appeared, or is appearing, 
subject themselves to the higher law of a connnon requirement and 
collective representation of the law of formation, which indeed limits 
and chains the individual portions, but gives the greater completely- 
formed result. 

The crystalline is the first appearance of earthly formation. 

Through the outward and backward tendencies which arise at the 
same time with the existence of the power, and by the co-existence of 
the two, a tendency toward the predominance of power toward some side 
or sides of the direction of power and a reciprocal obstructing, press- 
ing and chaining is conditioned, and consequently also the finest rela- 
tions of tension of the material on all sides and in all directions, which 
causes greater or less separability in these lines and planes of tension. 

Therefore the first solids must necessarily be bounded by straight 
lines ; indeed the resistance to the common subordination to the defi- 
nite law of a precise solid, to the complete representation of such a 
solid, must show itself in the first appearance of the solid. 

Also solids with unequally acting directions of power will appear 
earlier than those with equally acting directions, and so the outward 
manifestation of power will not be a solid all sides of which are alike 
(the which lay in the nature of the power), but rather, connected with 
the solid, forms which have not in common with it the like action on 
all sides which lies in the nature of the power. 

The development of the nature of the power will also rise in the 
phenomenon of the fixed form, from the unlike-sided to the simplest 
like-sided solid, as the nature of the power to represent itself outwardly 
descends from unity and all-sidedness to individuality and one-sided- 

If we now seek to recognize and represent this descent from unity 
to individuality lying in the nature of the power, we shall view Nature 


at this stage with respect to its inner tendency as well as its outer 
appearance, we shall view it in all its individuality and one-sidedness, 
but also in its unity and all-sidedness. 

Section 71. 

In the whole natural course of the development of the solid as it 
goes forth from the objects of Nature, there is a very remarkable 
accordance with the development of the spirit and mind of man. ]\Ian, 
also, like the solid, while vividly bearing unity within himself, shows 
at first more one-sidedness, individuality, and incompleteness, and not 
until a later stage of existence does he rise to and attain like-sided- 
ness, harmony, and completeness in outward appearance. 

This phenomenon of the parallel in the course of the development 
of Nature and of man is, as well as every phenomenon of this kind, 
highly important for self-knowledge, for the education of one's self 
and others ; for from it light and clearness spread over the develop- 
ment and education of man, and give security and firmness of action 
in the individual requirements of this development and education. 

Also the world of the solid is, like the world of the mind and spirit, 
a glorious, instructive world. ^Yhat here the inner eye sees within, 
the inner eye there views outwardly. 

Section 72. 

All power which makes itself known in the greatest generality by 
formation and expression works out from a middle with an outward 
and backward tendency at the same time, and thus, setting its own 
limits, works in an all-sided, like-sided, or radiating, linear and conse- 
quently spherical direction. But the necessary appearance of the 
power which, unobstructed, makes itself outwardly known in all-sided, 
like-sided formation, is that the power always works toward two sides 
in the like direction, and that, within the totality of all directions of 
power, each three such directions proceeding from the centre on two 
sides always stand in equal inclination and declination toward one 
another, bearing thus such a relation to one another that self-depend- 
ence and mutual dependence are in equilibrium. Yet on account of 
the measuring nature of the power within the sum of the three rect- 
angular dual directions, three exclusively come out as predominant 
and quite independent of all others, and this must take place also in 
the most spiritual view of power, because it is conditioned alike in the 
nature of power and in the law of activity in the human mind. 


The effect of the predominance of these three times two rectangular 
directions which symmetrically subordinate and determine all other 
directions can be only a solid bounded by straight lines and straight 
surfaces, — a solid which in all its phenomena, parts, and expressions 
makes outwardly known in manifold, peculiar ways the inner nature 
and effect of the power, conformably to the great law of ISTature, and 
the precise vocation and destination, the precise aim of Nature. Such 
a solid can be only a cube, a pure hexahedron. 

Each corner shows the rectangular position of the three dual direc- 
tions w^ithin, and thus shows outwardly the middle point of the whole, 
and this is shown eight times by the eight corners of the cube. Each 
four corners together show this law quadrupled. In the same manner 
the three times four edges show each of the inner dual directions quad- 
rupled. The six surfaces show in their centres, invisibly yet visibly, 
the six ends of the three dual directions, and so, in like manner limited 
and determined thereby, they show the invisible middle point of the 
wdiole solid, etc. 

But now in this solid, the cube, the effort of the powder toward 
spherical representation, appears at its greatest strain ; instead of all- 
sidedness appears single-sidedness ; instead of presenting all points or 
all corners, the cube presents individual corners ; instead of all lines, 
all edges, it presents individual edges; and these few points, lines, 
and surfaces hold all the rest subordinate to and dependent on them. 
But by means of these points, etc., there becomes clear and outwardly 
perceptible the tendency already conceivable from the nature of the 
power, and necessarily leading back to it, not only to represent itself 
as a body occupying space, but in each of the most peculiar forms 
possible to it, therefore also as a point and in points, as a line and 
in lines, as a surface and in surface. But consequently and neces- 
sarily there is at the same time given the tendency of the power to 
develop the line and surface from the point, to represent the point 
as line and surface, the line as point and surface, to draw the lines 
together as it were to points, and to unfold them to surfaces in like 
manner, and to draw together the surfaces to lines and points, or to 
represent them as such. 

This occupation, this activity, and this effect of the power, appears 
from this point on, in every, even the smallest, advance in the contem- 
plation of the solid, so that the efficiency of the power within the 
sphere of the formation of solids appears to consist only therein ; and 
all solids, whatever they may be, appear to owe their existence only 
to this exclusive tendency. 


But so it must be. This is the first general presentation of the 
great laws and tendencies of Nature, viz., to represent each thing as 
unity, individuality, and manifoldness ; to generalize the most par- 
ticular, and to represent the most general in the most particular ; and, 
finally, to make the internal external, the external internal, and to 
represent both in accord and union. 

If, now, we never forget, or rather if we have ever kept before our 
eyes, the fact that man also is wholly subject to these great laws, and 
that almost all the phenomena of his life, even his adventures, etc., 
have their cause in these laws, we shall through these views recognize 
Nature and man at the same time, and learn to develop and educate 
man in a way which is faithful and conformable to Nature and to his 
nature at the same time. 

Let us now quietly advance, step by step, from the contemplation 
of the cube to the contemplation of all the remaining solids, and to 
their derivation. 

The points and corners of the cube will strive to form themselves 
into surfaces, and represent themselves as such ; the surfaces to repre- 
sent themselves as points; the six dual middle directions (invisibly 
resting in the cube, and invisible yet visible in each of its sides), w^hich 
are at the same time required and limited by the predominance of the 
three equivalent dual directions, will especially strive to become out- 
wardly visible, and thus to come out as edges, etc. 

The result of this is a solid with the like cubical law, which has as 
many surfaces or sides as the cube has points or corners ; which has 
as many points or corners as the cube has sides, and just as many 
edges as the cube, but in the middle directions : the result is a piu-e 

In this solid again appea*; several things outwardly either merely 
visible, or invisible yet visible, which remain invisible in the interior 
of the solid ; but yom- own perceptions must find these by the indica- 
tions given with the cube. 

Each of the three times two principal directions of the power 
comes out externally in the cube as three times two sides or sm-faces; 
in the octahedron, as three times two corners or points ; another solid 
must now necessarily be given in which they appear as three times 
two edges or lines. In the cube the six ends of the three dual direc- 
tions of the power appear as six sides or surfaces ; in the octahedron 
they appear as corners or points ; there must now necessarily be given 
another solid in which they must appear as edges or lines, and this is 


the pure tetrahedron. Its nature is ah'eady sufficient!}^ defined by its 
grouping and comparison with the cube and the octahedron ; and the 
interior, which it expresses by its exterior, is easy to find out by the 
guidance of the cube. 

So from the contemplation and perception of the necessary effects 
and products of the spherically acting power, which makes itself 
known by formation of the material, have proceeded three solids, 
bounded by straight lines and straight surfaces, of which the cube is 
the first, and, as it were, the middle ; the tetrahedron and octahedron 
are the second, and, as it were, in one respect, the side or adjacent 

If we now look over 

Octahedron and Tetrahedron 
in their natural position, which necessarily proceeds from their deri- 
vation, so is shown again, in complete accord with the course of 
contemplation up to this point, and as a necessary result of the repeat- 
edly-expressed laws of Nature, that the cube rests on a surface, the 
octahedron on a point, and the tetrahedron on a line ; and with each 
of the three solids the axis of the formation necessarily coincides with 
one of the three principal directions. 

These three solids, now considered as completely self-contained, 
independent bodies, and each seeking in itself the point of rest and 
support, left to themselves as bodies, show the cube always symmetri- 
cal, constantly resting on one of its surfaces, which becomes its base ; 
and the axis constantly coinciding with one of its fundamental direc- 
tions. The octahedron and the tetrahedron, on the contrary, will fall. 
Thus each one of their sides will become a base, and, at the same 
time with this peculiarity, both solids show a new peculiarity imshared 
by the cube, viz., the axis, the vertical or middle line of the solid, does 
not throughout fall in one of the three fundamental directions, but 
indifferently between all three. 

Since, now, the nature of the octahedron and tetrahedron rests 
wholly in and is one with the nature of the cube, and since the 
form of the octahedron and tetrahedron proceeds from the form of 
the cube, the property common to the two former, that the axis or 
vertical line may fall indifferently between the three fundamental 
directions, must necessarily also lie already in the cube, and this 
property comes out also through the efficiency of the law of equilib- 
rium ruling in Nature ; for the falling of the octahedron and tetra- 


hedron so that the axis or vertical line comes to lie indifferently 
between the three principal directions will, in the case of the cube, 
condition and necessarily require such a descent. 

The cube now appears resting on one of its corners, so that the 
vertical line or axis now runs from this corner through the middle 
point to the opposite corner, and so now no longer in one of the three 
principal directions, but likewise falls indifferently between them. 
Thus as the cube by the alteration of its axis became quite different, 
it also outwardly represents thereby a quite new appearance, a quite 
new form. Two and two sides, two and two, or four and four edges 
and points, appeared always to belong together, all advanced in the 
even numbers of two and four ; all now appear to belong together in 
three and three : — 

three and three sides, 
three and three edges, 
three and three corners. 

Instead of the two now appears the three, and a quite new series 
of solids appears thereby at once given and determined in Xature ; 
but the consideration and development of these must be preceded by 
the consideration and development of the solids with three funda- 
mental directions. 

By the effort of the power expressing itself by means of itself and the 
solid to form corners into edges or sides ; by the effort to contract edges 
into corners and to form them into sides ; by the effort to represent 
sides as edges and corners ; by the effort to make outwardly visible the 
directions, points, lines, and planes hidden within and invisibKfe, and 
outwardly invisible yet visible, and to represent them as such ; by the 
effort of the solids to outwardly represent in this way the inner, like- 
sided spherical nature of the power wdiich acts equally on all sides, 
and thus the effort of these solids to form themselves again to the 
spherical form, — three series of solids proceeding from the cube, the 
octahedron, and the tetrahedron are definitely given, which in differ- 
ent directions are in a net-like manner connected with one another, 
but which through a small number of principal members, and a mass 
of secondary members which can yet be reached by the eye, soon again 
represent from themselves forms similar to the sphere, and pass over 
into such forms. 

With the formation of all the solids which have been hitherto 
mentioned the three principal directions were always also eqitally 
active and determining. 


In the further-continued formation of the solids the introduction 
of a difference between three equal principal directions is necessarily 
conditioned by the advancing and receding given at the same time in 
and with the nature of the power, and by the precise relations of the 
tension of the power (and so of the material given at the same time 
with the power), which are rendered necessary thereby, according to 
the self-existing law. 

This necessarily given relation of difference of the three principal 
directions must be that the one of the three principal directions which 
coincides wdth the axis of the solid is unlike the two others in its equiva- 
lent similar directions, and either greater or less than the others. 

In the series of the solids proceeding from the first relation, four- 
sided columns and elongated octahedrons, and, in the series of the 
solids proceeding from the second relation, four-sided tablets and 
compressed octahedrons will constitute the principal solids. 

Since here we are speaking only of the necessary inner fundamental 
relations of the power and its effect, all varieties of extension of the 
solids dependent on outer relations of extension of the material are 
necessarily beyond our consideration and regard. 

The formation of the two series of solids just defined continues to 
advance from four to four, and in numerical relations determined 
thereby, — solids having four members. 

As in the preceding, only one of the three rectangular directions 
is always unlike the other two which are alike, all three directions 
can be and are imlike. The solids, which in their appearance and 
formation depend on this, will have for their principal forms rather 
long, four-sided tablets and octahedrons, with three different planes 
of intersection. 

The formation of the two series continues to advance here by two 
and two and two, and, in the numerical relations thereby conditioned, — 
solids whose members are in pairs. But the formation now continues 
to advance in members having the same name, having like sides and 
conforming to the same law, or having unlike sides. The former con- 
ditions the above-defined series ; the latter conditions series of solids, 
which may be defined as two-and-one membered and one-and-one 

The further formation of these solids proceeds according to the law 
and effort lying in the nature of the power to represent the develop- 
ment of the corners to edges and surfaces, and vice versa, and thus 
in the effort to represent outwardly the inward du-ections of forms 


similar to the sphere. All the solids proceeding from these relations 
of the three fundamental directions are very peculiar in their appear- 
ance and formation, on account of the peculiar fundamental determi- 

So, now, the fundamental conditions of the knowledge, perception, 
and derivation of all solids with three equal principal directions, are 
given as well in accordance with their individual appearance as with 
their reciprocal, net-like, allied relations. 

Those solids whose axis of formation falls indifferently between the 
three fundamental directions, and whose fundamental form is the 
already recognized cube now resting on its corners, now require 
further consideration. 

Besides the peculiarities already recognized, — even at the first 
appearance of the cube in such position that the axis of formation 
now falls from one corner through the middle point to the other cor- 
ner, and so the first corner lies in the vertex and the other in the base 
of the figure, — which are limited, by the way in which the numbers 
belong together, to three and three, there come out with further con- 
sideration other peculiar laws of formation, and peculiar properties 
dependent on these laws. 

First of all, with the merely outward consideration of the cube in 
this position, comes out the peculiarity that the six bounding surfaces 
now no longer appear as six pure squares, and therefore with equal 
cross-lines, but as symmetrical quadrangles with cross-lines of differ- 
ent length, therefore rhombs, which here in the beginning appear 
outwardly, but with the next step of formation and continued devel- 
opment of these series of solids are immediately introduced outwardly, 
but proceeding from inner limitations. 

Therefore all the figures of this series of formation bounded by 
six equal surfaces are always bounded by six equal rhombs. The 
fundamental form of this series of formation is, therefore, the rhombo- 
hedron, and the fundamental determinations and fundamental law 
lying in the rhombohedron are the fundamental determinations and 
fundamental law of all the formations which now follow. 

The multitude of the solids developing from the rhombohedron is 
very great, almost incalculable. However, they divide immediately 
from their fundamental form into several series, each of which again 
is headed by a principal form conditioned in the fundamental form . 

The three edges at the base, and the three at the vertex, form 
themselves to surfaces according to the already mentioned working 


law, invisibly in the interior, or invisibly yet visibly in the external 
directions, until they set bounds to each other's development. The 
product is a solid bounded by two times six surfaces uniting in the 
base and vertex of the figure with equal upper and lower edges. It 
is the double-pointed, equal-edged dodecahedron. 

The side-edges, according to inward determinations, form sloping 
double surfaces. The product is a solid likewise bounded by two 
times six surfaces uniting in the vertex and base of the figure, but 
not with equal edges at vertex and base, but only with double alter- 
nate equal edges at vertex and base. It is the double-pointed, three- 
and-three-edged dodecahedron. 

Proceeding from the rhombohedron, or from the two defined 
double-pointed dodecahedrons, two new solids are determined by the 
formation of the side-corners or the side-edges into surfaces, according 
to the direction of the axis, and by the formation of the end-corners 
into just such surfaces. These new solids are two hexahedrons which 
have straight end-surfaces, but, according to their inner nature, and 
therefore also according to their origin, have this diiference, that the 
one column belongs to the side-edges, and the other to the side-corners, 
of the principal body ; and they are therefore also distinguishable as 
six-sided edge-columns having straight surfaces at both ends, and as 
six-sided corner-columns having straight surfaces at both ends. 

According to this inner coherence here indicated, the fundamental 
and principal forms stand to each other as follows : — 


Double-pointed, Double-pointed, 

equal-edged, three-and-three-edged, 

dodecahedron. dodecahedron. 

Six-sided, Six-sided, 

straight end-surfaced, straight end-surfaced, 

corner column. edge column. 

According to the repeatedly expressed and applied laws of Nature, 
according to the laws of the self-representing power to form points as 
surfaces and edges, and vice versa, according to these and other neces- 
sary limitations, there develop from the prominent fundamental and 
principal solids derived from the nature of the power in increasingly 
strict legitimacy, all the three-and-three membered solids already 
thus given and determined, witli all their immediate transition-forms 
and connecting forms. More and more spherical solids result from 
this development. 


And thus with the tliree-and-three membered solids (which are 
necessarily given by these determinations, but which in their con- 
nections form an innumerable multitude) combined with the solids 
akeady conditioned in the three fundamental directions, each indi- 
vidual solid is already given and conditioned, and so the province of 
solids is complete. Yet all the different indivirUial figures given by 
the law hitherto recognized can and will develop in accordance with 
the general workings of the power and other particular, peculiar limi- 
tations in different relations of extension, therefore with predominat- 
ing length, breadth, and thickness, though always simply. For the 
solids, which hitherto proceeded from the nature of the power, are 
always only simple and single, yet, in consequence of the effort to 
represent from itself solids bounded by straight lines (an effort given 
indeed at the same time as the power, but just on that account condi- 
tioning higher development of it), the totality of the original power, 
striving to work on all sides with equal action and alike at every side, 
has come into such tension, and especially such outer and inner oppo- 
sition, that it becomes, even externally, the first effort of the power to 
equalize this tension, and annul this opposition in every possible way. 

The first and simplest outward effort within the limits of the rep- 
resentation of the solid is to form from itself, and to represent, figures 
in purely opposite position and du'cction. The result of this will be 
figm-es which comlnne the two, three, four, and even more single 
solids in opposite and thus comparing directions and positions, into 
an outwardly single collective form, and in the latter case to appear 
as lawless accumulations of the inextricable law of union. 

With these latter formations originate a whole new series of com- 
pound and aggregate figures which appear as the indtation of the 
figures of higher stages of formation, as clustered, budded, spherical. 

Through these last-named aggregations, each individual form 
appears again especially to represent outx^ardly one of the all-sided 
directions originally working in the power, and so they (the aggre- 
gations) in common seem to represent that which is impossible to 
the individual, — the form of the original sphere. 

So also, at and in this stage of the formations of the solids, life 
appears as in a symbol ; and, with all the inflexible difference, there 
is shown an inner, living coherence, and especially the similarity and 
unity of laws as they come out more and more clearly at each follow- 
ing stage of the development of Nature. 

Now all these forms and figures (which, as outward phenomena, 


belong pre-eminently only to the ^s'orld of material, to the -SYorld Trith 
only working power), whose outward unit, and, as it were, outwardly 
creating unity, is the sphere, — show in common the great peculiarity 
that their members are only multiples of two composed of an even 
number of members, and multiples of three composed of three and 
three members. On the other hand, the efficiency of the directions of 
power according to and in the laws of number, wholly excludes the 
Jive and seven, and for the same reason the two (four) and three 
(six) and all figures thereby conditioned, since the five and seven 
appear either only subordinate and not pure, or only accidental and 

Farther : all solids appear in themselves whollj' of the same mate- 
rial, without a necessarily conditioned and abiding middle, but always 
a referential middle, and therefore a middle annulled also by the annul- 
ling of the reference ; therefore the eifect of the power with equal mate- 
rial, and with material which remains equal, is heightened only by 
increase of mateiial. The working power, therefore, appears also as 
simple, having members, but not as a unity including a manifoldness. 

Hence the develox:)ment and representation of the power at the 
stage of production of the fixed solids ; hence the stage of the devel- 
opment of the power within the limits of these forms. Yet the nature 
of the power as a self-active nature, with equal action on all sides, 
demands necessarily (besides what was already recognized from the 
nature of the power even in appearance in its outward representation 
in form) not only what the fixed solid gives, — a referential, changing 
middle, annulled with the annulling of the outward condition, but a 
definite middle, necessarily given by the nature and effect of the 
power, — an abiding point of reference for the out-going and return- 
ing of all expressions and all activities of power, a point also per- 
ceptible in the figure, and not merely a point of union, but also the 
bearer, and the determining point of the power. 

But the province of the fixed solids does not show such a unit- 
ing point; the fixed solid cannot possess it (since the one abso- 
lutely excludes the other), however inalienably it is conditioned in 
the nature and in the development and cultivation of the power 
which leads to completion. 

But the representation of a figure corresponding to that point is 
made impossible likewise by the material, conditioned by the law of 
the solids, bounded by straight surfaces, — the material, which is there- 
fore stretched even in its smallest particles, fixed in form, and com- 


posed of parts ; for the material, all the parts of which are every- 
where alike, absolutely excludes as such the predominance of a single 
middle point of power and of reference for activity, or of several such 
points. But therefore the introduction of a point of union and refer- 
ence, of a middle point of the power, conditions just as absolutely a 
complete dissolution of the connected parts, of the state of connection, 
of the solidity of the material, of the solid. 

The power as such in its develo23ment and cultivation further 
conditions and demands a plurality of expressions of power and 
activities which proceeded from unity, and are under the limitation 
of unity; since it could not at all otherwise raise itself to independent 

It cannot, therefore, suffice to the nature of the power, and to the 
efforts to its complete development and representation accompanying 
it, that it should only be different in action on different sides ; its 
fundamental effort demands that it should be in itself membered; 
demands under the condition of unity (having proceeded from, and 
therefore being dependent on unity) an association of powers, each of 
which has independent action, but only for the collective representa- 
tion of that which is conditioned by unity. 

But the power which is thus in itself composed of parts requires 
and conditions a material similarly composed. 

But the material, which at each place assigned to it by the activity 
of power proceeding from and conditioned by the unity of the power, 
is able to correspond to the individual and collective demand of the 
power, is necessarily in itself composed of members. Material is 
membered, which with equal readiness subjects itself to the demand 
of the membered power, whether this demand be for representation 
of the general or particular, the inner or outer, or for whatever side 
and direction of the power. 

Material composed of members conditions a perfectly free and 
unobstructed, all-sided determinateness ; but material which is in 
itself tense, solid, the sides of which differ, excludes this : therefore, 
in power which is itself membered, the different-sided condition of 
the material is wholly annulled, and it is raised to the state of being 
composed of members. 

Different-sided material can only be fitted for, and pass over into, 
a higher stage and gradation, it can only become membered material 
by sinking back into a perfectly dismembered condition, in appear- 
ance wholly without coherence, — a condition of the most extreme 
dissolution, — and by becoming powder. 


In this necessity also the requirements and conditions of the high- 
est and most spiritual life show themselves as in a t3'pe; therefore at 
this stage of development of Nature the knowledge of and insight into 
the character of Nature is highly important for the education of one's 
self and others. 

Section 73. 

The outward and backward tendency of the power comes out at 
the same time with the existence of the power as one with it ; for one 
is indeed absolutely conditioned with the other and by the other. 

But now the power, developing a manifoldness from itself as from a 
definite perceptible unity, and referring the manifoldness to the unity, 
necessarily conditions thereby an alternating outward and backward 
tendency of the power; and as this tendency breaks up and annihi- 
lates the fixity of the material, so it also destroys the co-existence, as 
it were, the reciprocal relation, of the outward and backward ten- 
dency; conditioning on the other hand, as proceeding from and 
referring to a definite and perceptible middle, an instantaneous sepa- 
ration and an instantaneous reunion, and thus outwardly an instanta- 
neous different and separate advance and receding of the power, and 
a fluctuation and undulation of the power perceptible in and by means 
of the material. 

In the solid the advance and receding is one at each instant, is an 
indivisible unity, and therefore the solid appears fixed. The sej)ara- 
tion of this co-existence, and the slightest predominance of one or the 
other action of the power, immediately desti'oys the fixed condition 
of the solid, and thus the solid itself, and represents it as earthy, 
fluid, or gaseous. But since the greater freedom and independence 
of the power, and yet the greatest co-existence of the outward and 
backward tendency condition the greatest perfection of the power, the 
power will have attained its greatest independence at that stage where 
the advance and receding alternate most quickly. 

But this constant advancing and receding has its cause in a 
constant equalization, therefore a moving plane : this stage of the 
power, proceeding from and going back to a unity, — a precise, percep- 
tible point, — is called "life." 

This point, as bearing this independent, self-active life in itself, 
and breathinsj- it out, as it were, to separate manifoldness, is therefore 
significantly called the " heart-point." 

The next new stage of the development of the power (to the 


power working only in and for solids) is the more perfect formation 
conditioning the life-point, the life conditioning the heart-point. 

In complete accord with the nature and requirements of the 
power, several, or but few, or only one, of the points of the activity of 
power, strive to rise to heart-points in the material. This is one of 
the most direct causes of the separation of the life-form. So the 
power strives to make itself more and more independent of the mate- 
rial, and more and more self-dependent, so that now the greater or 
less action of the power, the greater or less expression of life, no longer 
necessarily depends on a greater or smaller mass of the material ; this 
is a prevailing appearance of all forms, and of all formation in which 
life expresses itself. 

In accordance with this fundamental law, all life-forms immedi- 
ately on their first appearance separate into two series : one in which 
the appearance of life is subordinate to the material ; the other where 
the material is subjected to the activity of life. The latter series of 
forms is rightly called living: the former, bearing life within itself 
in self-acting movement, is said to be livebj, active. So, proceeding 
from this side of the consideration of the nature of the expression of 
power, all natural objects arrange themselves thus : — 

Living, (Solid) Lively. 

Since life always conditions and demands repeated turning back 
of the activity to the centre of the power, the heart-point, indeed 
consists in this returning, and creates in and by this return new 
power of the outward existence, so necessarily all life-forms increase, 
and really grow from within outward. 

This necessary, and therefore, as here and hitherto indicated, inner 
coherence of the working, living, and lively, proceeds clearly also 
from another side of the consideration of Nature, and from the general 
law of Xature that the general is demanded by the particular, that 
the genei-al proceeds from the particular, that the particular demands 
and conditions the general. 

Since, now, the before-recognized and developed properties of the 
power necessarily lie in and proceed from its nature as necessary 
results, they must necessarily also have their continued existence with 
the continued existence of the power, and with like necessity must 
definitely express themselves in the following stages of the develop- 
ment and cultivation of the power, though in different form, connec- 


tion and gradation, and advanced figure, but in accordance with tlie 
nature of the thing. This requirement, necessarily proceeding from the 
nature of the power, will now inalienably express itself in each form 
of the figure conditioned by its advancing stages of development, and 
will be the inner determining cause of the form and figure. There- 
fore the figures of the next two recognized defined stages of develop- 
ment will immediately show the peculiarity that, as in the solid the 
circular and revolving appeared as subordinate, and as it were acci- 
dental, it now appears in the life-form as essential, yet with the 
distinction that in the living forms of Xature the radiate, and the flat 
dependent upon it, appear as prevailing and predominant, but the 
revolving and spherical as subordinate. With the active forms of 
Nature, on the contrary, the radiate and that which depends upon it 
will be the subordinate, and the revolving and circular the predomi- 

As, now, the membered power necessarily demands and conditions 
a membered material, both demand and condition a membered form ; 
and therefore the living life-forms, the vegetable forms in which the 
life is still subordinate to the material, will be more radiate in their 
formation and approximating to the law of the solid, and will repre- 
sent this law in an advanced membered condition, and in life and 
with life. 

Hence in so many plants there is still the pure expression of the 
solid, the expression and representation of the fundamental law of 
the solid, which here makes itself known, especially through the rela- 
tions of number. 

Number originally denoted the extreme, the end, as many ancient 
combinations of words still attest. Therefore the relations of number 
in the plant-world appear so important, because they denote, as it 
were, the ends of the directions of power to which the solids, and each 
future advanced appearance of the solid, owe their peculiar forms and 
figures. As the solids having equal members and the solids having 
directions of equal importance and even-numbered members have a 
peculiar, and in a certain respect very simple character and 
expression of life, so the plants which have equal numbers and an 
even number of members (two and two) have a similar expression of 
life, and, as was already the case with the solids, they especially point 
out the three-and-three membered plants in contrast. 

The two-and-two membered plants express this law clearly and 
precisely, as well by the alternating position of the leaves as by the 


two-and-two surfaced form of the stalk. Peculiar properties which 
are always existing also express themselves with the peculiarity of the 
existing relation of number ; so particular inner properties continually 
connect themselves with each particular expression of number, and 
with its particular and peculiar manifestation ; so, for example, the 
plants belonging to the numbers two and two almost universally give 
out very strong aromatic fragrance. 

The life-forms, however, by no means content themselves with 
more individual representation of the relations of direction originally 
given and the relations of number directly dependent on these, which 
limit the solids ; but higher activities in the relations of formation 
make their appearance together with the activity of power increased 
to life, an activity which has its foundation in the analyzed external 
relations of tension ; and so with life and the life-forms, as well with 
plants as with animals, the relation of number of the five, which with 
the solids appears only extremely subordinate, almost only accidental 
and transitory, appears here early as ruling and powerfully active. 

As a manifest, peculiar efficacy shows itself with the introduction 
of the relation of number of the five in all the natural objects in 
which it appears, the manifestation of the five and the conditions of 
its manifestations are remarkably symbolic and full of significance. 

Widely as its appearance is extended in the vegetable kingdom, 
the five rarely comes out pure ; that is, so that all the individualities 
of the five are of equal importance according to the position, the 
form, and in general the value ; and, if its most external appearance 
is indeed pure, it is so changing that it only remains actually the 
same in some few phenomena. 

This attests plainly its origin, which has its foundation only in 
the chained efficiency of the power, in the effort of the power now 
raised to life, to represent each relation by and from itself. 

Since the representation of the five, and of the seven, which is akin 
to it, as independently determining and continuously developing, 
is wholly excluded from the merely acting power, and hence each 
following development and phenomenon of the activity of power is 
conditioned only in the power as working, this representation can 
only originate in a separation, or in a drawing-together of relations 
of direction and of the relations of number proceeding from these, 
which relations are conditioned by the acting power. 

And so it is : the five apj)ears in the plant-world either by the sepa- 
ration of one of the fundamental directions of the four-membered, or 


two-and-two menibered, or by the drawing-together of two funda- 
mental directions of the three-and-three menibered. 

Abiiost all plants which have the expression of the number of the 
five attest this. 

Plants, therefore, which show almost no change of five in their 
blossoms, are to be considered as belonging to the pure five ; plants 
which belong to the inner law of the two and two, and represent the 
five in their blossoms, will show it as two, two, and one, since it pro- 
ceeded from the separation of one of the equally important directions : 
therefore four of the members always belong together in pairs, and 
one stands alone, and will develop thus through all the forms and 
connections of the flower-formations belonging to the five. 

Such plants then appear as repi'esentations of the law of the two 
and two passing into the two, two, and one. 

In general the phenomena of the five which have proceeded from 
two and two fundamental directions are the most manifold in form 
and connections, as is shown by all plants \\'ith alternate leaves. 

The arrested equilibrium between the two and two can only with 
difficulty be again attained. 

It is quite otherwise with the plants, the expression of whose forms 
and especially of whose flowers proceeded from the law of three and 
three. The five has here originated, not by a separation of one into 
two, but by the imion of two fundamental directions into one, and the 
security and rest which, as it were, proceeded from the imion and 
drawing-together are expressed even in the simplest flowers. One 
example will suffice, — the rose. 

The five therefore appears in Nature at the stage of the life-forms as 
the number which unites the nature of the two and the three. The five 
appears separating and uniting as three and two, therefore, as it comes 
forth with the advance of merely working power to the living and 
active, it is also truly the number of the separating and uniting life ; 
it is the number of reason at the stage of the forms of the living, 
of that which incessantly and interiorly produces the new from 
itself, of that which in itself is always advancing. For it appears so 
much the more abiding, the higher the stage of development of the life- 
forms. At the stage of plant-formations, first of all, the almost pure 
five belongs to those plants which bear within themselves the greatest 
perfection and manifoldhess. Hence the kinds of fruit, kernel and 
stone fruits, and the tropical fruits belong to the law of the almost 
pure five. 


Are not the first capable of numberless improvements and develop- 
ments ? 

Do not the roses, which belong to the five, proceeding from the 
three and three, show the like in the flower-world ? 

Are not then- varieties capable of being more and more increased? 

Does not almost every region bring forth a new variety of the 
potato ? And how much these varieties have already developed since 
they have been known ! 

So it is again those plants which by their blossoms belong to the 
almost pure five, which most easily multiply themselves and increase, 
such as the roses again, the pinks, auriculas, ranunculuses. 

So a higher expression of heightened and advanced life expresses 
itself unequivocally where the number five appears, to which the 
number owes its existence by the separation or union of that which is 
strictly and fixedly determined by the rigid law. 

Proceeding not from the outward phenomena of the number, but 
from the deepest, most inward limitation, unity, and nature of it, 
in which all number, and the manifoldness and relations of number 
are necessarily founded, the following urges itself upon our notice : 
as the solids, the parts of which are straight and equal, appear only 
simple, making known but little of the manifoldness of the pow^er, like 
formations of the mind as it were, the three-and-three membered solids 
on the contrary appear, in consequence of their continuing outward 
separation, in ever new forms to resemble, in their manifoldness, for- 
mations of reason and consciousness. And as in all three-and-three 
membered solids, the axis of formation separated from each of the 
three equally important fundamental directions, and thus established 
itself independently as of equal importance in relation to all three, 
the development goes on almost endlessly outwardly separating and 
outwardly connecting. Consequently there is nothing which the three- 
and-three fundamental form cannot separate ; even the light must sub- 
ject itself to the outwardly separating power of this form, as in the 
calcareous spar, and in a three-and-three membered artificial form, — 
the prism. 

Therefore also at the stage of the solid, the act of falling from the 
law of continued formation and development with like action on all 
sides and on equal members, into the three-and-three membered, 
resembles the falling, or, what is in effect here similar, the descent of 
the spiritual part of man from the purely harmonious development of 
mind into the outwardly separating and doubting cultivation of rea- 


son ; for the three-and-three membered first introduces the descent of 
the solid in the circumference of the outward knowledge of forms. 

In reference to the peculiar nature and peculiar effects of the 
power as lining and in itself one, the plant-world shows the following 
phenomena: through the different stages of gradation of one and the 
same living power in a living form of Xature — a plant — each part 
of the whole appears to be in possession of the whole power, only in 
different degrees of gradation; hence at the stage of the life-forms 
(the plants), it is so frequently possible to call forth the whole form, 
the whole plant, from a single part, — a bud, a leaf, a piece of root. 

Hence, also, in the vegetable world appears the phenomenon, 
expressing itself as a fundamental law of plants, that each follow- 
ing stage of development always makes known in greater measure 
the nature of the unity which is working in the form, as each fol- 
lowing stage of development is an advance on the preceding; thus 
the petals are developed plant-leaves; the stamens and pistils, devel- 
oped petals. Each following formation represents the interior of 
the plant, the nature of it, in more and more delicate coverings, 
and lastly, as it were, in breath and fragrance. 

The inner (thus become almost wholly outward) again takes up 
the germ into itself, and thus again represents it as inward. 

Up to the blossoming-time the plants express an outward striving, 
an uprising; from the blossom-time up to that of the completely 
ripened fruit they express the most extreme retraction. 

The phenomena of plants show, therefore, not only a manifoldness 
and ramification of the power, but also an advance ; but for this rea- 
son also, w^ith the lessening power in the vegetable world comes the 
frequent phenomenon of a sinking-back from a later stage of cultiva- 
tion and continued development into an earlier stage ; for example, 
the sinking-back from the formation of the flower-leaves into the 
formation of the leaves of the calyx, from the formation of the leaves 
of the calyx into complete plant-leaves, and the sinking-back of the 
stamens and pistils into flower-leaves ; which phenomena are so often 
shown in the roses, the poppies, the mallows, the tulips, etc. And in 
the former reference, the artificial development of the calyx of the 
flower to the crown of the flower, when the plant has an especially 
good position and especially good food, as Avith the garden-primrose, 
belongs here. 

So now, therefore, the nature of the whole j^lant lies in each 
independent part of the plant, only in a peculiar way. But the 


fundamental effort of each thing and each phant is to represent itself 
on all sides in its peculiarity ; so, now, this effort to represent from 
itself the form of the sphere, appears to be more connected with the 
leaves than with the other parts of the plant ; hence the phenomenon 
especially frequent with them, but also frequent with other parts of 
the plant, that after an injury the wounded part strives to represent 
the spherical by itself, which is shown with especial beauty by the 
so-called rose-moss on the wounded foliage of the rose. 

So the nature of the power increased to life, while outwardly qui- 
escent, shows itself by the plants : therefore the plants, in this respect, 
seem like the blossoms and flowers of Xature. And as, in the case of 
the plants, the whole nature of the plant again draws into the inte- 
rior, into the unity from the time of blossoming and fructification, 
so, at the now following stage of the formation and development of 
Xature, the development and advance of the power from life to vivid 
action into all that is outward and manifold again makes its appear- 
ance in an interior and unity, in a seed, in rounded forms ; therefore, 
on account of their simple rounded forms, the lowest forms of animal 
life are like seeds which have become living. 

And thus the totality of all earth-forms, although in itself but a 
small part of the gTeat whole of Xature, yet relatively a finished, 
independent, great, membered whole, seems to result from the law of 
the single repeating itself in mass. 

The forms of the power increased to life, the active forms, — the 
animals, — are also in themselves again a great, membered whole, as it 
were, a form bearing life in itself ; this is made knowai by the great, 
general, extended laws of Nature, which also through their whole 
totality pervadingly express themselves solely in single and individ- 
ual application. 

So a law of the five just necessarily conditioned by the entrance of 
higher life, and really one with it, expresses itself in the case of all ani- 
mals with heightened enjoyment of life ; and this takes place as soon as 
these animals appear, or as soon as animals in general appear ; which 
is attested by the remains of the submerged anterior w^orld. Thus 
the five comes out early, contemporaneously with the life of this great 
animal whole, abides with it as the fundamental law, although in dif- 
ferent kinds of drawing-together and separating ; and also with man, 
in whom the activity appears increased even to complete spirituality, 
the five is the essential property of his forming hand, his principal 
member, the principal tool of his forming creative power. 


Another great, generally extended law of Xature, which expresses 
itself with especial clearness in the wdiole animal world, and repre- 
sents the just-defined totality of animals as relatively a completed 
whole, is the law of making the external internal, and vice versa. 

So the first forms of animal life live in an almost stone house, 
w^hich is the bearer of the still soft body, and almost independent of 
it, only outwardly enclosing the creature as something foreign to and 
separate from it ; but the creature is nevertheless bound during its 
life to the fixed place of its chalky covering. 

Later, the animals appear torn loose, independent, no longer 
chained to one point during life, like a plant ; but they and their 
outer stony covering adhere to one another, so that the covering 
encloses the body like a firm bark. 

"With the following animal formations, the cartilaginously stony 
covering outwardly diminishes more and more ; it sinks, as it were, 
into the flesh, and, in proportion as it outwardly vanishes, it makes its 
appearance with the fishes and amphibia as a cartilaginous skeleton, 
leaving its remains on the body in the form of scales. 

This cartilaginous skeleton becomes, with the following animal 
formations, more and more a fixed, bony skeleton ; and the more com- 
plete this is, the more does the muscular mass before covered by the 
mass of stone now cover the stone-like bones, and now appears 
enclosing, as it before appeared enclosed ; what was external is now 
internal, what was only internal is now an outwardly complete ani- 
mal. Further : the great law of Xature, the law of equilibrium — 
that is, the law according to which a relatively precise totality of 
power imprints itself as indwelling in each living and active form, 
and which conditions a relatively determined mass of material for 
each body, indeed, for each kind of its parts, and also that when 
this material is turned predominantly toward one side of the bodj'' 
and limbs, then in the same measure the development of the body 
toward the other side and other limbs recedes, and thus develops 
one part or one member of the body at the expense of the others — 
is expressed with especial clearness in the animal world. 

So with the fish, the body is developed at the expense of the limbs. 

But this law expresses itself with especial clearness and impres- 
siveness when man, in the symmetry of his formation, is established as 
the point of comparison ; as, for example, the formation of the arm 
and hand of man compared with the wing of the bird, where the over- 
powering and predominating development of individual members and 


parts at the expense of the others precisely and intuitively expresses 

Section 74. 

So all manifoldness of the forms of Xature' appears throughout as 
conditioned by one power, as the result of one power through all 
stages of its unfolding and development. This power originally is 
and appears as unity, and expresses itself clearly in the completed indi- 
vidual life which has become independent, but makes itself known 
as an outward phenomenon first on all sides of the forms of Nature, 
according to each reference, in all the manifoldness of the forms of 
Nature ; for the power demands the possibility of the representation 
of all manifoldness which lies in it as an association and a life-whole. 
And so here also is confirmed the truth, as great as it is general, that 
only in a triune representation each form of Nature comj^letel}' and 
perfectly expresses its nature — in unity, individuality, and manifold- 
ness. So the law of development of the solid from the single-sided 
to the all-sided, from the incomplete to the complete, is repeatedly 
confirmed as the course of development to and for all completeness of 
Nature. Thus man is the last and most complete of all earthly 
beings, the last and most complete of all earthly forms, in which the 
corporeal appears in the greatest equilibrium and symmetry, and the 
original and primordial power, resting in eternal existence and 
proceeding therefrom, appears here as spirituality ; and so the man 
himself discovers, feels, understands, and tries his power; thus he 
can become conscious, and is conscious, of this power. 

But as man as an outward corporeal phenomenon shows the form 
in equilibrium and symmetry, so desires, inclinations, and passions 
undulate within him (considering him at the beginning of spirituality 
as a spiritual being) . As powers working in the world of solids, 
living in the vegetable world, and acting in the animal, undulated and 
floated, so is it here with the spiritual powers. 

And now for the series of the development of spirituality, man 
stands again upon the first stage on which the solids stand for the 
development of life. Therefore the knowledge of the laws of the 
nature of the fixed forms, and consequently of the life-forms, is 
again exceedingly important for man, — important for his own educa- 
tion and that of others. Therefore the knowledge of the nature and 
appearance of the fixed forms and life-forms is instructive, guiding, 
enlightening, consoling, etc. And so^ therefore, Nature in all its 


manifoldness should be early brought before man, before the boy, the 
scholar, as unity, as a great active whole representing, as it were, 
only one thought of God as a figure of life. 

As Xature is in itself a constantly developing whole, developing 
from itself on all sides and in each point, and as it appears as such, 
it must be thus represented at an early stage to man. Without unity 
in the activity of Xature, without unity for the forms of Xature, 
without recognition and ]3erception of this unity, and without recog- 
nition and perception of the derivation of all manifoldness from this 
unity, no genuine knowledge of the manifoldness of Nature, no 
genuine natural history, and consequently also no satisfactory instruc- 
tion in the science of the manifoldness of Nature, of the natural 
history hitherto existing only as a name, can be given to man even 
in boyhood. 

But also it is this unity only which the boy's mind early seeks ; 
it is this only which satisfies the human spirit in general. 

If you go out into Nature with the young boy who has genuine 
life in him, if you bring before him the manifoldness of Nature, he 
will immediately question you as to the higher, conditioning, active 
unity. Since this was written, it has been confirmed by the repeated 
questions of boys who had scarcely entered upon the stage of the 
scholar, who were employing themselves with objects of Nature. 

All fragmentary and dismembering contemplation of Nature 
(very different from the contemplation of the particular which leads 
to unity and totality) deadens the objects of Nature and Nature 
itself as well as man and the contemplating human spirit. 

Section 75. 

These few indications for the perception of Nature as a whole 
must here suffice; they are intended only to guide the father, the 
educator, the teacher, to leading his scholar, his pupil, his son, toward 
the j-ecognition and i3erception of the similarity of the laws of Nature 
in their different stages of gradation, and toward the recognition and 
perception of the unity in all manifoldness, and to lead the father 
et al. to view Nature as a life-whole. For as the inner vivid coher- 
ence of the activity of Nature and the objects of Nature was here 
indicated in general, and toward one side and direction, so nmst 
Nature be brought before the scholar according to each side, direction, 
and activity, as a different-sided and membered whole ; since the 


powers, the materials, the tones and colors, etc., as well as the forms 
and figures, have their inner unity, their vivid inner coherence, in and 
among themselves and with the whole. Besides, all are dependent, 
in the completeness of their development, upon the influence of a great 
uniting phenomenon of Xature, a great determining substance of 
Nature, — the sun, which awakens and fosters all earthly life. Indeed, 
it almost seems as if the earth-forms only made known the nature of 
the sunlight, so eagerly do all earthly forms turn toward the rays of 
the sun, absorb the sunlight, and hang upon the light and rays of the 
sun, as the child does upon the eyes and lips of the loving, teaching 
father, and of the developing, strengthening mother, with whom it is 
of like essence. And in like manner as the presence and absence of 
pure parental love, of the formed parental spirit, act upon the devel- 
opment and improvement of the children who are of one essence with 
their parents, so do the presence and absence of the sunlight act upon 
the development and improvement of the earthly forms, which are, as 
it were, the children of the sun and earth. Moreover, it gives us a 
more exact knowledge of the rays and light of the sun, that the 
directions acting" within it are like the fundamental directions of all 
earthly forms, and so the earth -forms in their totality might well show, 
as it were, outwardly, visibly, and in manifoldness, the nature of the 
sunlight which points to the sun itself as unity. Thus the knowledge 
of the one leads with certainty to the knowledge of the other. 

Thus father and son, educator and pupil, teacher and scholars, 
parents and child, wander always in a great active whole of Xature. 

Father, teacher, guide of children, do not answer, " I myself as yet 
know nothing at all of this ; I have not as yet any knowledge of it." 

The question here is by no means of the communication of already 
possessed knowledge, but of calling forth new knowledge. You must 
observe the object with the view of knowing about it in order to lead 
the child to such observation, and to bring that which is thus observed 
to the knowledge of yourseK and your charge. 

Xo special skill in denominating either the objects of Nature or 
their properties, but only clear, precise, sure comprehension and pre- 
cise designation of the same, according to the nature of the thing and 
the language, is needed for the recognition of the prevaiUng conform- 
ity of the laws in Nature and of the unity of these laws. 

In presenting the natural objects to the boy, and making him 
familiar with them, there is no question of the communication of 
the names of the objects, nor of the communication of preconceived 


opinions and views, but only of the pure presentation of the objects, 
and the recognition of the properties which they themselves demon- 
strate and express, so that the boy may observe this object as the pre- 
cise, independent object which it makes itself known to be by its 
form, etc. 

Also the knowledge of the name before given to the object of 
Nature, or generally acknowledged as authentic, is unimportant ; only 
the clear perception, distinct recognition, and correct designation of 
the properties, general as well as particular, are important. 

Give the object of Nature its local name, or, if you do not know 
any, give it the name which at once suggests itself, or, what is far 
better, give it a descriptive, even though a long name, until you can 
get the common equivalent name. 

It will, with this effort, not be very long before the common equiv- 
alent and understandable name becomes familiar to you in order to 
harmonize your knowledge and the common knowledge, and to clear 
up and complete the former by the latter. 

Therefore, school-teacher in the country, do not say, " I have no 
knowledge of the objects of Nature ; I do not know how to name 
them." However simple your training may be, you can by faithful 
observation of Nature with the view of learning about it, acquire far 
higher and more fundamental outer and inner knowledge, more living 
knowledge of the individual and of the manifold, than you can learn 
from common books which are accessible to you, and with which it is 
possible for you to supply yourself. Besides, this so-called higher 
book-knowledge usually rests upon phenomena and perceptions which 
the simplest man is in a condition to make; and, indeed, often the 
observations which he makes with little or no expense are finer than 
they are shown to be by the most costly experiment, if he have but 
the eyes to see. He must bring himself to this capacity for seeing 
by continued observation ; he must, especially, allow himself to be led 
and guided to this by the boy-world around him. 

Father, mother, do not be uneasy ; do not say, " I myself know 
nothing ; how shall 1 teach my children ? " 

It may be that you know nothing ; but yet that is not the greatest 
of evils if you only wish to know something. If you know nothing, 
do like the child itself ; go to father and mother, and become a child 
with the child, a scholar with the scholar, and let yourself be taught 
with him by mother — Nature, and by the father, the spirit of God 
in Nature. The spirit of God and Nature will guide and lead you, 


if yon -will let yourself be guided and led, if you do not say, "I 
have not studied, I have not learned that." Ye who teach it to the 
child, go like him to the fount. 

Now, one of the objects of the university is, indeed, to make the 
inner eye see, to open it to the outward and inward ; yet it would be 
sad for the human race, if those only should see who attended the 
university, or, as you say, studied. 

But if you parents make your boys, if you leaders of children make 
your scholars and pupils, see and think at an early age, then will the 
high schools again become what they should be, — schools for the 
attainment of the knowledge of the highest spiritual truths, and 
schools for the representation of these truths in one's own life and 
action, — schools of wisdom. 

From each point, each object of Xature and of life, there goes a 
path toward God. Only keep the point in mind and go securely 
along the path ; gain firmness from the conviction that Nature must 
necessarily have not only an outward general cause, but an inward 
acting cause (recognizable even in the smallest detail), as it proceeded 
from and was limited and created by one Being, one Creator, — God, 
and as it proceeded from and was conditioned by the self-resting, 
necessary law of the eternal in the temporal, of the spiritual in the 
corporeal. It must then necessarily be possible to recognize the par- 
ticular in the general, and the general in the particular. 

See ! the phenomena of Nature form a more beautiful ladder from 
earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, than Jacob saw; not a 
one-sided, but an all-sided ladder ; not in one, but in all directions. 
You do not see it in a dream, it is abiding, it everywhere surrounds 
you ; it is beautiful ; flowers clasp it with their tendrils, and angels 
look from it with their child-eyes ; and it is firm, solids form it, and 
it rests upon a world of crystals ; David, the divinely inspired bard of 
Nature, sings of it. 

If you seek in this mauifoldness of Nature a fixed point, if you 
seek a safe ladder, number is such a fixed point, the path to which 
it leads is sure ; for it is conditioned by the outward appearance of 
the inner directions of power : so it most directly makes known the 
innermost nature of the power with that which is dependent on it, if 
you only bring with you the clear eye of a boy and the simple sense 
and mind of a child. 

If you allow yourself to be guided by the eye and sense of a boy, 
you can already know for your consolation that a simple, natural boy 


does not endure half-truths and false ideas. If you only quietly, judi- 
ciously, and thoughtfully attend to his questions, these questions will 
instruct both you and him ; for they come from the yet childlike 
human spirit, and what a child or a boy asks, a mother, a father, a 
man, will be able to answer. 

You say, " Children and boys ask more than parents and man can 

And you are right ; but if you stand at the limit of the earthly 
and at the portal of the divine, and then express simply what you see, 
the spirit and mind of the child will feel satisfied. If you stand at 
the limit of only your own knowledge, do not shun the expression of 
what you see, only beware of speaking as if you stood at the limit of 
human insight in general, for this, though it cannot kill, crushes and 
cripples the human spirit. 

In these cases, question your own life, compare it with the life out- 
side and around you, lead your little charge to this comparison, and 
you and he will obtain the answer to your question as soon as your 
insight is sufficiently ripened. You will not dimly, with perplexed 
and perplexing mind, but as the human spirit, the human reason 
demands, with sure, undoubting inner eye, clearly perceive what you 
seek : you will see God in his works so clearly that your earthly yearn- 
ings will be satisfied, and that the peace and joyousness, consolation 
and succor which you require in time of need, you will find within 

Section 76. 

Man seeks a fixed point and a sure guide (ladder) to the knowl- 
edge of the inner coherence of all manifoldness in Xaturc. What can 
give a more mdubitably sure and unifying starting-point than that 
which appears, as it were, to bear all manifoldness within it, to develop 
all manifoldness from itself, that which is the visible expression of 
all conformity of laws and of law itself, — mathematics, which, on 
account of this great producing property, is from the beginning called 
the teaching of knowledge, the science of knowledge, — mathematics ? 

And it has not only maintained this rank through thousands of 
years, but still maintains it ; but just at the time when it ^light be 
deprived of this rank, it has come out with a glory shining forth from 
its interior, a glory which it has not hitherto enjoyed. 

But by what means has mathematics not only reached, but also 
maintained, this high rank? What is the nature, origin, and effect of 


As a phenomenon it belongs equally to the inner and outer world 
of man and of Nature as proceeding from the pure spirit, from the 
pure laws of thought ; and, being a visible expression of these laMS 
and of thought as such, it finds the phenomena, connections, forms, 
and figures necessarily conditioned by these laws, outside of itself in 
the outer world, in Xature, as well as quite independent of itself and 
of the human mind and spirit. 

Nature (in the manifoldness of its form and figures, which shaped 
themselves outside of man, and independent of him in the outer world 
of Nature) he finds again in his inner nature, in his spirit, in the laws 
of his spirit and mind. 

Thus mathematics appears as uniting and intermediating between 
man and Nature, the inner and outer world, thought and perception. 
This great occupation which, as conditioning and conditioned, will 
last as long as the inner and outer M^orld ; this requiting and most 
grateful occupation, bearing its reward within it — is what for thou- 
sands of years, almost since the existence of the human race, secured 
to mathematics its existence and its acknowledgment; by this occupa- 
tion, indeed, mathematics was actually first established by the Chris- 
tian in its true rights, was first truly recognized for what it is. For it 
was only possible to and reserved for the Christian — who recognizes 
the one divine spirit, the action and effects of the one divine spirit in 
all things — to prize it in its whole nature. For only the Christian 
can declare the unity of the forms produced by the pure spirit, with 
the forms, figures, and phenomena of Nature. He only can solve 
the doubt, whether mathematics was deduced from the phenomena 
of Nature, or the objects of Nature formed according to human 
laws of thought ; in which latter case Nature and the outer world 
have their existence only in the laws of human thought. For does 
not the one eternal spirit of God live and work in man and in 
Nature? have not man and Nature proceeded from, and are they 
not conditioned by, one and the same single God? 

Must there not, therefore, necessarily be union and accord in the 
spirit of Nature, in the laws of its forms and powers; and in the 
spirit of man, and in the laws of his formation and thought ? Must 
there not be conformity of laws in both (the spirit of Nature and the 
spirit of man), and between the two ? 

Therefore it is possible to recognize the character of Nature from 
its forms and figures, and to know this character by means of the 
established laws of human thought become external by mathe- 


matics ; hence mathematics intermediates, unites, produces knowl- 
edge, and directly conditions knowledge. Therefore it is neither 
lifeless, ending in itself, nor a definite plurality, the sum of out- 
ward forms and truths, strung together and single, because found 
singly and accidentally ; but it is a living whole, uninterruptedly 
re-forming itself again from itself, continuously developing with 
the development of thought and of the human spirit in respect to 
unity, manifoldness, and recognition and perception in the most 
individual particulars; for it is the visible expression of thought 
in man ; it is in itself the expression of the conformity of the 
laws of the purely spiritual ; it is therefore, in this respect, a life- 
whole in itself, a production of necessity and freedom. 

Mathematics is therefore neither something foreign to nor 
abstracted from actual life, but is the expression of life in itself, 
and therefore its essence is recognizable in life, and life by its 

As thought and the laws of thought x^ass from unity to mani- 
foldness and all-sidedness, and, though apparently starting from a 
manifoldness, refer to an originally inner unity, external indeed, yet 
always lying in distance or obscurity; so mathematics also necessa- 
rily passes from unity to manifoldness and all-sidedness. And though 
it also externally and apparently starts from individuality and mani- 
foldness, yet a necessary inner unity always lies at the foundation. 
All mathematical forms and figures must therefore be viewed as pro- 
ceeding from and conditioned by laws lying in and conditioning the 
sphere and the round, and must therefore be referred back to and 
considered as unity ; but the sphere itself must be considered as i^ro- 
ceeding from unity with independent, individual power. 

Mathematical forms and figures must therefore not be considered 
as composed according to outward, arbitrary determinations, but as 
having originated according to necessary inward conditions, as a 
product of an independent power which, because index^endent, worked 
originally from a middle oat on all sides ; these forms are therefore not 
to be considered as separate, but as in a necessary coherence ; and, as 
they also start from individuality and manifoldness, they must always, 
even in the first instruction, be ]-ef erred back to this conditioning unity 
which is all-jDervading, like the soul. 

Mathematics is the expression of space-limiting, and thus of the 
limitations and properties of that which is in space. As unity is its 
cause, it is unity in itself ; and as manifoldness of directions, figures, 


and extension, are given at the same time with space, so, also, num- 
ber, form, and size form a comprehensive, reciprocally limiting, 
actually pure, inseparable three in unity. 

But since number is the expression of manifoldness in itself, and 
in truth the expression of that which limits manifoldness, and there- 
fore of the directions of power ; and since it by no means originated 
from lifeless, outward additions, but according to active inner laws 
founded in the nature of the power, while size and form can be 
explained only through manifoldness, — the knowledge of number ia 
the most essential and first step toward the knowledge of the triune 

The knowledge of number is therefore the basis of the knowledge 
of form and size, of the general knowledge of space. 

But space itself is by no means lifeless, quiescent, stationary, but 
exists only through the constant action of the power which is self- 
limited by its own existence. 

And as space itself owes its existence to and is conditioned by the 
cause and fundamental law of all that exists, so the general law of 
space lies at the foundation of each single appearance in space, and of 
each thing which is viewed under a space-filling form, of each thing 
that makes itself known in space by means of space, consequently even 
of the laws of thought and the knowledge of those laws. 

Mathematics must be estimated and treated far more physically 
and dynamically as a product of Xature and of forces; then it will 
be far more instructive, and will conduce more, not only to the knowl- 
edge of Xature, especially of the chemical (material), but also to the 
knowledge of the effect andnatm'e of the spiritual, the laws of thought 
and sensation, than one now imagines : especially all the curved-lined 
spherical, etc., departments of mathematics lead to such knowledge. 

The education of man without mathematics and without funda- 
mental knowledge of number at least (to which, then, the knowledge 
of form and size annexes itself as a necessary condition, scantily 
indeed, by occasional appropriations) is therefore an unstable, imper- 
fect patchwork, and sets impassable bounds to the cultivation and 
development to which man and humanity are destined and called, — 
bounds beyond which man (since he cannot throw off his striving 
nature and striving spirit) strives either to overleap, or, weary of the 
fruitless, spiritual impulse and effort, seeks to paralyze his powers; 
for the mind of man and mathematics are as inseparable as the soul 
of man and religion. 


C. Concernin(j Language and Instruction in Language. 
Section 77. 

But now what is language? and in what relation does it, as the 
third of the poles of boy-life and of the life of man in general, stand 
to the two others ? 

Where true inner coherence, true inner active alternate effect, take 
place, a relation immediately expresses itself like that of unity, indi- 
\dduality, and manifoldness ; so here between religion, Xatui'e, and 

In religion, the requnement of the mind, of that in man which 
refers to unity, comes out predominantly, and seeks the fulfilment of 
its anticipations. In the contemplation of Xature, and of mathe- 
matics, which is connected with the knowledge of J^Tatore, the require- 
ment of the understanding, of that in man which refers to individuality, 
comes out, and seeks for certainty. In language, the requii'ement of 
the reason of man of that in man which refers to manifoldness, and 
unites all manifoldness, comes out, and seeks for satisfaction. 

Religion is life in the mind according to the requirement of the 
mind ; it is the finding and feeling of the One in all. Nature is the rec- 
ognition of the individualities of Xature, of their relations to each other 
and to the whole ; it is seeking according to the demand of the under- 
standing. And language is the representation of the unity of all mani- 
foldness, of the inner active coherence of all things ; it is the striving 
according to the demand of the reason. These three are therefore an 
inseparable unit ; and the one-sided, detached cultivation of the one or 
the other devoid of connection, necessarily effects one-sidedness, and 
consequently, at last, the destruction, or at least the ruin, of the unity 
of the human being. 

Religion strives to make known, and does make known, the entity. 
Nature strives to make known the nature of the jJoicer, the cause of its 
effect, and the effect itself. Language strives to manifest, and does 
manifest, life as such and as a whole. 

Religion, Nature (mathematics is, as it were, Xature in man 
according to its design, its laws, and its limitations ; it is Xature as, 
according to its necessary limitations, it lies and must lie in the spirit 
of man, without which Xature could not become known to man, but 
for that reason can be more completely known to man when actu- 
ally present as an outwarcj appearance) — religion, Xature (niathe- 


matics), language, have all three in all theu" manifold references the 
same occupation and effort, — to make known and to reveal the inner- 
most ; to make the internal external, and the external internal ; and 
so to show both innermost and outermost in then- natural, original, 
necessary harmony and coherence. 

What, therefore, is to be said of one of these three must necessa- 
rily be true of each of the two others, only in a more peculiar way. 
What, therefore, has hitherto been said here of religion and Xature, — 
with mathematics, — must, if it was and is otherwise perfectly true in 
itself, necessarily be also true of language, only with the peculiarity 
conditioned by the individual nature of language ; and so it is. 

But we must also in life — to the great sorrow of single and unsepa- 
rated humanity, and with the greatest hindrance to the improvement 
and continuous cultivation possible to humanity — meet with the delu- 
sion that one can exist without the others, by itself, and can raise itself 
to the stage of completeness in its cultivation and development : lan- 
guage without Xature (mathematics) and religion ; religion without 
language and Xature (mathematics) ; the knoivledge of Nature (mathe- 
matics) without knowledge of language and religion. 

But just as certainly as it was necessary that God, as he wished to 
make himself known and reveal himself completely and indubitably 
in the totality of his nature, must make himself known and reveal 
himself in a triune way; just as certainly, also, is religion, Xature 
(mathematics), and language, an inseparable one. The complete 
knowledge of, and the firm security in, the one, conditions and de- 
mands, necessarily, also the complete knowledge of the other : the 
recognition of the one, conditions and demands, necessarily, also the 
true recognition of the other. Since, now, man is destined to sure, 
clear knowledge and to the attainment of complete consciousness, 
the education of man necessarily demands also the estimation and 
recognition of religion, Xature (mathematics), and language, in their 
inner, active, reciprocal reference and limitation. 

Without the recognition and acknowledgment of the inner union 
of these three, the school and we ourselves are lost in the manifoldness 
endlessly producing itself, — in the bottomless. 

Such is the nature of language and its relation to man and to the 
education of man. 

Xow, how does language in itself and through itself make known 
its nature? how does it confirm this nature? 


Section 78. 

In general, language is the self-active statement of the peculiar 
interior become exterior, the representation of it by the exterior, as 
the breaking of a thing makes kno^Yn its innermost. 

As the breaking out of the bud into a flower makes known and 
reveals the innermost of the flower, so he who speaks makes his inner 
nature known by his own action ; so language makes its inner known 
by the outer, and is therefore the representation of the inner by the 

But the innermost of man is constantly moving and living, it is 
life ; therefore the properties and phenomena of life must make them- 
selves known by the language of human tones and words. 

Therefore the complete human speech, as a representation of the 
nature and interior of man, and constantly connected with it, must 
be made known, and so, necessarily, be audible, even in detail, by the 
slightest movement. 

In order, as it were, to make man known in his wholeness, in order 
to make itself known all-sidedly and constantly, language must be 
extremely movable. 

But man in his wholeness, and as a phenomenon of Xature, also 
wholly bears within himself the character of Nature; consequently 
in language the nature of man, the essence of man, as well as the 
whole essence of Xature, makes itself known. 

Language is consequently the imitation of the whole inner and 
outer world of man. 

But the inner of man, like the inner of Xature, is law, is necessity, 
is spirit, is eternal, is the divine, appearing outwardly and through the 

Therefore language, also, must make known law, the conformity 
of laws, in and by and through itself, Language must be the expres- 
sion of necessary conformity to laws. The collective laws of the inner 
and outer world in the whole and in the individual must therefore 
present themselves in language, must lie in it as such. And so it is. 

Section 79. 

Language, like mathematics, is double-sided, belonging at the same 
time to the inner and outer world. 

Language, as an independent product of man, proceeds as directly 


from the spirit of man as Natm-e does from the spirit of God : it is 
the representation and expression of the human spirit, as Xature is 
the representation and expression of the spirit of God. 

The accordance of language as an independent product, and lan- 
guage as an imitation of Nature, which suggests the question whether 
language be a pure product of the spirit, or an imitation of Xature, — 
this, as well as a different question and opinion, finds its basis in the 
fact that one and the same divine spirit dwells in all, that the same 
spiritual divine laws work in all. 

This accordance further has its cause in the fact that the spirit of 
Nature and of man is one ; that Nature and man have one cause and 
fount of their existence, — God. 

And as language is the representation of man and of Nature, and 
consequently of the spirit of God, so goes forth from language, knowl- 
edge of Nature and of man, and consequently revelation of God. 

Indeed, language is, from the side of the contemplation of Nature, 
itself the representation of power increased to life: on the side of 
man, it is itself the representation of the spii'it of man becoming 

Language is therefore necessarily conditioned in the natm'e of man 
as a spirit becoming conscious of itself, and destined to consciousness, 
and forms with it an inseparable one. 

On account of the double nature conditioned in the essence of 
language, on account of the intermediating and connecting of this 
double nature, mathematical as well as physical properties, properties 
of life and of movement must be proper to it. 

Therefore language also necessarily expresses not only the general 
fundamental references and properties of Nature, but also the effects 
and expressions of the spiritual in its ultimate elements of words, 
voice-sounds (vowels), open and closed sounds (consonants), and the 
letters denoting them. 

However incomplete and lacking may be that which till now has, 
from and in the outward experience, been demanded, and thus is 
also still to be adduced concerning this view of language, yet the 
inner life, which bears language within it in its finest fibres, and 
which makes of it a complete life-whole, goes forth from it clearly ; 
and, notwithstanding this incompleteness of the attempts, and defi- 
ciency of facts individually, the inner conviction cannot be repressed, 
but rather comes forward with confirmation at each step within the 
language whole — that in every language very clear, fixed, and precise 


mathematical, physical, physico-psychical laws (laws of Xature and 
of the spirit), conditioned by inner necessity, express themselves in 
the elements of words, voice-sounds, open and closed sounds, and their 
signs, the letters with their different combinations. The conviction 
also comes forth that the representation of a definite object or idea by 
word, viewed and recognized from one particular side, necessarily 
requires these precise elements of words (letters), that it requires 
exclusively these and no others, so that each single word is thus a 
necessary, precise product of certain individual word-elements, as each 
individual, material product, each chemical product, is conditioned 
only by precise individual material, or, what is the same, by definite, 
individual powers. 

In other words, the elements of words in their different combina- 
tions symbolically represent the objects of Nature, the forms of the 
spirit and their relations, according to their innermost nature and the 
personal or provincial, etc., comprehension. 

With but slightly-won attention to the conformity of laws every- 
where expressing itself in the natural as well as spiritual, the physical 
as well as the psychical world, this conformity of laws in the forma- 
tion of particular words in om* language can absolutely not be repelled : 
indeed, the inner conformity of laws, and, as it were, the activeness in 
the formation of words, is indubitable for him who is vividly pene- 
trated by their inner life and their inner unity, though there is still 
little to be said about this conformity in particular. 

This might, indeed, deter one from speaking for this conformity of 
laws, for the truth and acknowledgment of this conformity of the laws 
of language ; but one sees himseK here in the position of the lover of 
music who is not musically trained. Music speaks to him in the great 
musical representation in all freedom, necessity, and legitimac}^, though 
he himself can bring out and show but few of these musical laws, and 
can still less follow even the slightest of them : indeed, one who is 
wholly uncultivated hears and enjoys the music without even a dim 
presentiment of its law, and it is at best merely the measure which he 
is able to retain. 

Something similar may be said of the impression of forms, colors, 
materials, and forces. We see ourselves surrounded by their mani- 
foldness and by their different effects upon us and other human 
beings, almost without divining, still less perceiving, their unity and 
the accordance of their laws. 

But because these laws are not di\dned, are not known, and are 
still less perceived, do they the less exist ? 


So is it with us with our mother-tongue and the finer laws of its 
formation of words. Because we hear it spoken from the first instant 
of our self-knowledge, it appears to us like a continual sound, or at 
most, in reference to its visible single words and word-stems, like a 
collection of variegated stones of which different kinds of trinkets 
may be made, or like beautiful plants of which beautiful bouquets 
are made. But the words in their origin, so called stems, appear as 
accidental material, without being subject to a liigher principle of 

As entirety of tones proceeds from fundamental tones, as the total- 
ity of material proceeds from primary materials, and as forms proceed 
from the fundamental directions of the forces, so in language the words 
go forth as images of objects, as representations of ideas, so that they 
form fundamental ideas and totality of ideas. 

The elements of the words (visibly the letters) are therefore by no 
means something dead, by the arbitrary arrangement of which, words 
result ; but they indicate original and necessary, mathematical, physi- 
cal, psychical, fundamental conceptions : hence they bear some sig- 
nificance in themselves, and form the word according to necessary, 
legitimate grouping ; and thus each object, thing, property, relation, 
etc., ax^pears as a totality of conceptions, but also as the product of 
certain single fundamental conceptions, which, by their inward, recip- 
rocal penetrating, form the whole, — the word. 

Let us listen, for example, to words beginning with fr. These 
single words as single totalities of conception have a fundamental 
conception pervading all ; this is an immateriality or spirituality 
making itself known in outward, acting manifoldness, which lan- 
guage seeks to designate by /r.i 

Let us listen, on the other hand, to words beginning with fl. All 
these words have, indeed, the expression of immateriality or spiritual- 
ity, but by no means in the vigorous, lively, external activity which is 
expressed in the words beginning with fr; but, as the conceptions 
of those words all enter vigorously into outward life, the conceptions 
of these words all indicate more an inward life, an inward, constant 
activity, as those do more a totality of single activities. The former 
words had in common the letters fr ; the latter, the letters fl ; both 
have the spirituality or immateriality denoted by /; the distinction of 

1 The author speaks of Grerman words ; but it is also the case, to a certain extent, 
with English words. — Translator. 


more outward, single life must therefore be denoted by r ; and the 
expression of more inward, constant life, by I. 

Words whose central vowel is u, and, on the other hand, words 
whose central vowel is a, the consonants of which are the same or 
similar, we shall find express in the first series an inward character, 
but in the second series an externality. Since, now, the effective dif- 
ference is u and a, language must denote more the inner by u, and the 
outer by a. From this proceeds the fact that rhyme, the unity of that 
which is outwardly manifold, has a deep inner principle. 

If we listen to words beginning with k, we find that all these words 
have in common an independent, resisting power ; which common idea 
is expressed in language by the common element Tc. 

Incomplete and inadequate as is and may be that which an occa- 
sional and often long-interrupted observation of language has yet until 
now recognized as a pervading phenomenon and law, yet it is placed 
here in order to point out, at least in general, the conformity of laws 
shown by language from this side of consideration also. Indeed, it 
seems as if an incomplete demonstration of the results of this side of 
the considerafon of language might injure the true estimation of it : 
yet this view of language is too deeply grounded in the essence of 
language, and too important to the development of man for the 
attainment of self-consciousness and for the knowledge of the outer 
world itself to be passed by ; wherefore it only need be pointed out 
and shown in some coherence to develop, continue to form, and 
confirm itself. This view will be more extensively carried out later 
for the purpose of education and instruction, since by means of it 
language can be recognized in its innermost relation to Xature and 
to the spirit of man, and, in a certain reference, the similarity of its 
laws with those of both can also be recognized. 

First of all, language, as a type of something formed in space, or 
spiritually formed, and as a fundamental property, must necessarily 
express the inner, the outer, and the connection ; and in fact language 
generally expresses the inner by the vowels, the outer by the closed, 
and the connection by the open sounds. These three fundamental 
elements of language have a reciprocal relation like unity, individual- 
ity, and manifoldness. 

But since the opposites of inner and outer, as well as all oppo- 
sites in general, are only relative, so the inner separates again into an 
innermost, an essence, and into a form of appearance. 



From what has been indicated proceeds the high importance of 
tlie miity of language, as well as the fact that it is not to be obtained 
in an arbitrary, outward way. The true significance of the dialects, 
and the importance of their consideration, also proceeds from the 
same, since it is here by no means the intention to bring these laws 
of language into a system, but only that the boy's attention may be 
early called to these laws of language of which he will soon find more 
by his unclouded mind than have here been pointed out. What has 
been said must suffice to call attention to the mathematical, physical, 
and psychical properties of language, by which it is actually an image 
of the outer and inner world. 

These properties of speech are indeed to be perceived and recog- 
nized in their life, first of all in our living mother-tongue ; yet they 
belong by no means only to our German language, but are found also 
in the Greek and Latin (which are akin to the German), in the way 
peculiar to each of these languages ; so that even from this vievr of 
language proceeds the insight into an inner relation of this language 
according to which German, Greek, and Latin belong to one another, 
are related to one another, like soul, life, and body. 

We ourselves, and especially our children, will attain to a far 
more fundamental insight into language, if w^e, when teaching them 
language, connect the words more with the actual perception of the 
thing and the object. Language w^ould then be for us, and conse- 
quently, as it Avere, also in itself, not only a whole composed of sounds, 
tones, and words, but an actual living whole of things, and therefore 
will again rise more toward the perception and recognition of things, 
and so to the perception and recognition of the essence of each thing, 
consequently of the w'ord itself. Our language would then again 
become a true language of life, that is, born of life, and j)i'oducing 
life ; wdiile it threatens otherwise, by merely outward consideration, 
to become more and more dead. 

Section 80. 
Among the several laws which offer themselves for consideration, 
besides the thoughts here given of the nature of language, the law of 
movement (rhythm) — which expresses itself in its individual parts 
of w^ords as well as in its combinations of w^ords, and w^hich show^s 
the similarity and conformity of its laws with the character of N'ature, 
as well as that Xature is born of the spirit — here especially demands 


The law of movement of language, the general expression of life 
in language, is originally so one with language, and so inseparable 
from it (as life itself is inseparable from the objects represented by 
language), that all the first representations of language as representa- 
tions of the inner and outer life must necessarily also be representa- 
tions of the legitimate inovement of language ; they must be repre- 
sentations in movement-wholes, and this so much the more as the 
inner life of the object becomes more actively and outwardly percep- 
tible to man in his cliildhood and youth, and therefore also to the 
whole human race in its childhood and youth. Therefore, now, the 
representation of language in movement-wholes, in connected speech, 
belongs at first to youth, as it first of all belonged to the youth of the 
human race, and as man in general sees and perceives the whole in its 
connectedness, especially in its connection with man, earlier than he 
does the single in its singleness. Therefore, from several points of 
view, the representation of language in connected speech, the repre- 
sentation of language, therefore speech itself, in series of movements, 
in movement-wholes, necessarily belongs to youth, and, when youth 
has lost it, one of the first, most original and natural means of enno- 
bling youth, as well as the whole human race in general, has been 
taken away. Therefore if we would again raise our children to true, 
higher spiritual and inner life, we must hasten to re-awaken in them 
this inner life of language, of the contemplation of Xature, and of 
discovery. And the way to this is so easy ! We have almost nothing 
at all to do but to let the peculiar life of the child live in youth, and 
protectingly and fosteringly to remove what might deaden and destroy 
it ; but, instead of that, we deaden the germinating life in the child, 
and frighten the life striving to uncoil itself from iN'ature, back into 
the fixed form, by our rough, lifeless, heartless words, as, for instance 
when we say, "Come, dear child, do look at the violet; is it not 
pretty ? Break it off, and put it in water, but take care of it ; it 
would be a pity to lose it." How wholly different would be the 
impression and the results of this sight upon the same childish mind 

if we said, — 

"The blooming violet 
Come and see; 
I, blooming violet 
Delight in thee "; 

thus giving words to the child's feeling also. Who can believe that 
this is foreign to children, who hears simple and natural, quiet, observ- 


ant, and thoughtfully-guided children as, very early, with the simplest 
expression of their sensations, and with the pointing out of then- first 
perceptions, they so naturally speak in movement-wholes, knowing 
and conjecturing nothing of them, though so easily employing them ? 
Of course there are not many such children ; but there are some, and 
there might be many; for we do not know what we strike dead in 
our children, or at least what we allow to starve out unroused and 

And yet we finally require that our children who have thus grown 
up void of perception and feeling shall at a later time understand 
poets and Xature. Here, now, is the child of cultivated parents (who 
would believe it ? ) called upon to represent before cultivated people 
the artificial work of the art of teaching, called "declamation"; yet 
see the poor child, vain or trembling, conceited or shame-faced, and 
say who is the more to be pitied, — the child, its teacher, the poem 
and the poet, or those present. 

Section 81. 

The simply and naturally-developed child, as well as the boy and 
man thus developed, finds himself by means of religion, Nature, and 
language, in the midst of all life ; so that he is not even in condition 
to retain the mass of facts by themselves, still less with regard to 
place and time, and so one and another thing threatens to escape him. 
A far richer life develops within him, — a life so rich that his inner 
nature is no longer able to grasp the fulness and richness of it, and it 
ovei'flows, so that it now comes to him again from without, in its 
fulness and by its fulness, as a peculiar, independent, definite second 
life as it were ; and he can thus become conscious and is conscious of 
it as a definite life. And so it must be ; for now he is driven by the 
irresistible, urgent desire and the need (which is inevitably to be 
satisfied) to snatch from oblivion the Ijlossoms and fruits of the rich 
but easily-vanishing inner life, and the fleeting, transitory outer life 
of the form, in respect to the place, the chronological order, and other 
things, and thus to retain them outwardly by means of signs for the 
l)enefit of his own life or that of others. Thus writing, script, develop 
in each individual again in the general way shown by the history 
of the world, and in accordance with the com^se of the general develop- 
ment of the human mind, as in general the individual human being 
develops according to laws more peculiar indeed, but more in 


accordance with those accordmg to which the whole human race has 
improved, and humanity has hitherto developed ; and we see at the 
same time how, through a predominating, richer outer life, the hiero- 
glyphics are necessarily conditioned ; but a predominantly richer inner 
life, on the other hand, necessarily conditions the script which conveys 
ideas and conceptions, — the letter-scrijjt. 

Now the hieroglyphics as well as the letter-script presupposes a 
plentiful, rich inner or outer life ; from and by means of this only is 
script produced; and up to this time there develops the general need 
of it in the child, in every individual human being, only in this way ; 
and so it must be. 

Therefore, from this point of view also, the care of the parents 
and educators is required to make the inner life of their children and 
pupils as rich as possible, not so much in respect to the manifoldness 
as to the inner significance and activity of life ; for without this, and 
if the script and the learning to write are not connected with a 
certain inner need, the mother-tongue becomes external, lifeless, 
foreign, which it now is in a great degree for so many. Yet, if we 
only also enter again in particulars into the great necessary path of 
humanity, the former great and fresh life of humanity comes back to 
us also in and through our children : the qualities and powers of the 
spirit, the capacity for penetration and conjecture, now weakened, 
will then again appear in their whole fulness and power. 

And why should we not earnestly exert ourselves to again enter 
on this necessary way, since the boy exerts himself to lead us back 
to it ? 

For see, here the boy paints into his picture the apple-tree on 
which he discovered a nest with young birds, and there the kite 
which rose so high in the air. Here sits before me the not yet six- 
years-old boy, and draws and paints indej)endently in his book for 
free drawing many of the strange creatures he saw yesterday in a 
collection of animals. 

Who, surrounded by little boys, has not received the entreaty, 
" Give me some paper ! I want to wTite a letter to papa, to brother," 
because the boy's inner life urges him to communicate it ? It is not 
imitation, for no one was writing ; only he knew in what way he could 
satisfy liis actual yearning. The marks he made, though they all 
looked pretty much alike, indicated to him the different words which 
he actually expressed to the person to whom he wrote by these 
marks; and the need of script by which to convey his ideas — the 


letter-script — is as evident here as in the former case was that of the 
hieroglyphics, or picture-script. 

There are, indeed, boys of this age so thoughtful and meditative, 
so capable of quietly contemplating within themselves the most 
spiritual, that with them, in the same manner shown by the human 
race, the need, and, as it were, the discovery, of the letter-script were 
to develop ; and how well it is known that larger boys form their own 
script ! Yet it will always take place in a similar way, since a certain 
need of the boy will absolutely always be connected with all teaching, 
with all instruction ; which need must, in a certain respect, have been 
inevitably developed previously in the boy before he can be instructed 
profitably and with results. In this is a principal cause of a great 
deal of the incompleteness of our schools, of the character of our 
instruction. We teach and instruct our children without awakened 
need for this instruction, even after we have killed that need which 
was in the child. 

How, then, can instruction and the school advance ? 

Section 82. 

As certainly as the irresistible ardent desire of an overflowing 
inwardness, and the effort to hold fast this fulness, is the foundation 
of writing ; and as writing is the fruit of the thinking and thought- 
ful, self-observing man, — just as certainly the signs of writing, 
as signs for the individual elements of words, are also not arbitrary, 
and are certainly in connection with the denoting of conceptions, 
and (which may indeed be the same) with the way in which they 
are formed. 

Little as may still be known of the first fundamental refer- 
ences and the first fundamental forms of the written characters, 
and blotted out as the laws from which they have proceeded accord- 
ing to silently ruling necessary conditions may have been, yet some 
remaining fundamental forms of the written character appear still to 
show indubitably the inner coherence with the significance of the 
element ; thus the O, finished in itself, as a sign of the element for the 
conception of that which is completely finished in itself ; thus the S, 
striving to run back into itself, as the sign of the element which 
denotes the conception of turning back. 

Unsought there comes out in the written characters originally 
Phoenician, and later Roman, a certain relation between the form of 


the character and the pointing-out of the conception of the ele- 

Yet, though that original precise relation between character and 
element were no longer actually demonstrable, every glimpse of it 
should be held fast for the purpose of instruction ; because absolutely 
nothing is to be brought forward to man in a purely arbitrary con- 
nection, for which it is not at least possible to discover- an inner 
necessary cause : hence the instruction in writing hitherto and at 
present given is so lifeless and deadening, so mechanical. 

It is highly judicious to connect the first instruction in writing, 
the first actual writing, with the old Latin capitals, consisting of 
simple and simply compounded lines, and therefore easy to imitate 
and retain. 

The fruits of repeated application of this course of instruction 
show its judiciousness, and its correspondence with boy-nature. This 
coui'se of instruction will be further designated, particularly in respect 
to its inner principles. 

Section 83. 

Here is only given the further information that in this way the 
reading, as well as the learning to read, again assumes its original and 
natural relation to the scholar ; for reading necessarily proceeds from 
the need to again make audible to one's self or others that which was 
before written, to recall it to one's own memory, and to bring one's 
self to clearer consciousness of it, and, as it were, again to arouse it. 

By the acts of writing and reading, which must necessarily pre- 
suppose a living knowledge of language in a certain breadth, man 
raises himself above every other creature that he knows, and approaches 
the attainment of his destiny. 

By the exercise of these acts, man first becomes a person : so the 
effort to learn to write and read makes the pupil a scholar, makes 
school for the first time actually possible. The possession of script 
conditions and affords to man the possibility of becoming conscious 
of future consciousness ; for it conditions for the first time true self- 
knowledge, because it makes it possible for man to contemplate him- 
self, his nature, placing this nature, as it were, before him ; because 
it clearly and surely connects man as present with the past and 
future ; it connects him on all sides with the nearest, and certainly 
with the farthest. 


The script thus affords man the possibility of attaining to the 
highest, most complete, earthly perfection. 

Writing is the first principal act of independent attainment of 

Since, now, writing and reading are so highly important for man, 
the boy must also be strong and intelligent enough for them. The 
possibility of attaining to consciousness must be already awakened in 
him ; the need of writing and reading, the urgent desire, even the 
necessity, of being able to do so, must clearly and definitely express 
themselves ere he learn to write and read. 

The boy who is to learn to write and read in a truly advantageous 
way must necessarily be already something, before he seeks to become 
conscious of something which he as yet is not ; else all his knowledge 
will be hollow, lifeless, void, extraneous, mechanical. For where the 
foundation is lifeless and mechanical, how is the activity of life, and 
true life the highest prize of all effort, to later develop from it ? how 
is man then truly to attain his destiny, his life ? 

D. Concerning Art and the Subjects of Art, 
Section 84. 

If what has been hitherto said about the object and the middle 
point, the last point of reference of all human effort, about that which, 
even in boyhood, moves the life of man, and makes the poles of boy- 
life, is collected under one point of view, there comes out from it 
clearly and indubitably the fact that all human effort is threefold, — 
either an effort for rest and life within, or an effort for the knowledge 
and reception of the essence of the outer, or, lastly, an effort for the 
direct representation of the inner. The first is predominantly the effort 
of religion ; the second, the effort of contemplation of Nature ; and 
the third, predominantly the effort for self -representation, self-develop- 
ment, and self-contemplation. If what has been hitherto said in the 
latter reference is again brought together, it shows that mathematics 
refers more to the inward representation of the external, to the repre- 
sentation of the just proportion of the laws resting in the inner nature 
of man, and so, as it were, to the representation of ISTature by man 
himself ; wherefore, also, mathematics is a connection between Nature 
and man. Mathematics, therefore, refers more to the intelligence, and 
lays claim to the intellect. Language refei's more to the rejDresenta- 


tion of the perceived and examined inner, and refers predominantly 
to the reason, and lays claim to it. But there is now necessarily one 
thing still lacking for the complete representation of the nature of 
man : this is the representation of the inner life by itself, of direct 
sensation, of the mind. And this third, the representation of the 
inner nature of man by itself, is art. 

Section 85. 

All human conceptions, except one, are relative conceptions, can 
be strictly applied only relatively ; or, in other words, all conceptions 
bear a reciprocal relation to one another, and are necessarily separated 
only in their outermost end-points. 

Therefore there is also in art again one side where it touches 
mathematics, — the intellect ; a second where it touches the M^orld of 
language, — the reason; and another where, although a pure repre- 
sentation of the inner, it yet appears as one with the representation of 
ISTature ; and, finally, there is yet another side, where it coincides w ith 
religion . 

Yet here, where it is only a question of the education of man in 
general, and of educating him at least to value art, all these references 
cannot be taken up for consideration. 

Here at this stage art is only viewed in its last unity as a pure 
representation of the inner. There now immediately comes out the 
fact that the representation by art of what lives within, of w^hat actu- 
ally makes up the life of the inner, must appear different on account 
of the material with which it is connected as a representation of the 

But this material as an earthly appearance can be only either mere 
movement by itself, though audible, but so that the result vanishes in 
its origination, — that is, tones ; or the material can be only visible, 
the products consisting of the appearance of lines and surfaces as well 
as of colors ; or the material can be predominantly perceptible in 
space, incorporate — mass. Here also, as in all actual things (since 
conceptions are only relatively strict, as has been repeatedly said), are 
found innumerable transitions and connections. 

Art as a representation by mere tone is music, and predominantly 
song. Art as a visible representation by mere colors is XDainting. 
Art as a representation in space by the formation of the mass is 


DraM'ing, which, however, with equal reason can be considered as 
the mere representation by lines, may be considered as the miiting 
middle point of the two latter ; in which case the drawing then 
appears to belong predominantly to representation by lines ; painting, 
predominantly to representation by surfaces ; and moulding, predomi- 
nantly to representation by material, in space. 

On account of the just-mentioned connecting property of drawing, 
the effort to draw is so early a phenomenon in the development of 
man, as we have already seen at the stage of childhood. 

But the effort to represent the inner by moulding as well as by 
painting expresses itself early in man, even in childhood, but very 
unequivocally in the beginning of boyhood. 

From this proceeds clearly and unequivocally the perception that 
a sense of art is a general jDroperty in man, and must therefore be 
early fostered in man, at least from boyhood. 

Man wdll, by means of this, be at least fitted to value works of art 
(even if the powers of his spirit and life, his activity, be not predomi- 
nantly directed toward the side of art, and if he do not therefore him- 
self become an artist), and he w'ill, by a true school-training, be surely 
placed in position, uncalled himself, and wdthout the true vocation for 
art, to set himself up as an artisan. 

Song, drawing, painting, and moulding must therefore necessarily 
be early considered as a part of the general comprehensive education 
and training of man. They must be early treated as actual objects of 
the earnest school, and not be exposed to an accidental, worthless and 
fruitless, wanton arbitrariness ; neither with the view that each scholar 
become an artist in some kind of art, and far less with the view that 
each scholar be an artist in all branches of art, both of which nullify 
themselves (though one might say the former of each human being in 
a certain respect), but with the definite view that each man be raised 
to the point of developing his nature faithfully, completely, and on all 
sides ; that he raise himself to the point of recognizing the all-sided 
and all-powerful nature of man ; but especially, as has been already 
stated, that each man understand how" to perceive and to value the 
results of genuine art. 

Representation in connected speech, like drawing in another respect, 
is again a connecting link proceeding from language; but as a repre- 
sentation of the inner w^orld, as the poetical representation of the spir- 
itual, ethereal inner world, as a quiescent representation of- pure life, 
constantly moving and moved, it belongs to art. 


In all, in life and in religion, consequently also in art, the ultimate 
and highest aim of representation is the clear representation of the 
pure man. The Christian art is according to tendency the highest (or 
at least it should be, else it ceases to be art and Christian art) ; for it 
strives to represent in all, the eternally abiding, the divine, especially 
in and by man. Man is the highest object of the art of man. 

Such is now the totality of that ^Yhich is the object, purpose, and 
purport of the life of man in general, and which expresses itself, and 
makes itself known as such, even in boyhood, at the scholar-stage. As 
now what has been hitherto said strove to show the object and pm-port 
of the whole tendency of the boy, the object and pui-port of the school, 
and of instruction in its ultimate unity and fundamental reference in 
accordance with its nature, so the former sought to show the boy in 
his free and independent entire life, in the unity of his inner and outer 
life, at the scholar-stage. It now remains to demonstrate in what 
sequence and connection the strivings of the boy develop in and from 
his life at this school-stage ; how and through what instruction, in 
what order and form, the school is to work to reach these strivings, 
and what it has to do that through it man's striving in general, but 
especially this striving at the boy-stage and scholar-stage, may be 


A. General Contemplation. 

Section 86. 

The child grows up in the family ; the child becomes a boy and 
scholar in the family ; the school nnist therefore connect itself with 
the family. 

Union of the school and life, union of the domestic or family life 
and the life of instruction, is the first and most inseparable require- 
ment of the complete development and cultivation of man at this 
time, which is to lead us to perfection. LTnion of the family and 
school life is the inalienable requirement of the education of man at 
this time, when man is at last to rise, and wishes to rise, from the 
burden, the emptiness, and the oppression of the outwardly communi- 
cated knowledge of conceptions and ideas, and therefore merely life- 


less, memorized knowledge, to the life, air, freshness of the knowledge 
of the inner aspect and essence of things, to the contemplation and 
knowledge of things ; which knowledge continues to develop from 
itself like a healthy, fresh tree, like a family and race full of life, 
glad in life, and conscious of life, when we at last cease from playing 
with signs in word, thought, and action, and from passing through life 

AYould that we might at last, for the welfare of our children and 
the blessing of future generations, perceive that we possess a too 
great and too oppressive quantity of imj)uted, affixed, heterogeneous, 
and therefore foreign knowledge and cultivation, and yet foolishly 
strive daily to increase them ; and that, on the other hand, we pos- 
sess extremely few knowledges which have developed in us and from 
us, which have germinated in our own inner nature, which have grown 
forth in it, with it, and by means of it ! 

Would that we might at last cease to boast of extraneous thought, 
of extraneous knowledge, even of extraneous sensations and feelings ! 
AVould that we might actually cease to establish as the greatest glory 
of our education, of our teaching, of our schools, and of our instruc- 
tion, the adorning of the spirit and mind of our children and scholars 
with extraneous erudition, knowledge, and skill ! Would that w^e 
might cease to think that our aim and the best good of our children 
and scholars is reached and attained so much the more in proportion 
as they make a parade of this foreign and extraneous erudition, knowl- 
edge, and skill, which indeed resemble whited sepulchres ! 

This is, of course, an old disease ; for, if we question and investi- 
gate in w^hat way the German nation has attained the fundamentals 
of its high present knowledge, we see unequivocally that these funda- 
inentals, elements, or principles, always came from without, out of the 
far and remote, were directly or indirectly obtruded upon it from with- 
out ; for which reason we have not even a general equivalent word for 
this origin in our mother-tongue. 

The strong German mind, the strong German spirit, indeed worked 
up that which was foreign, and appropriated it; but its results and 
character as a foreign one remained abiding. 

For a thousand years we have borne these chains ; but shall we 
therefore never begin to allow a tree of life to germinate in our own 
minds, a tree of knowledge in our own spirits, and bring it by careful 
tendance to a beautiful unfolding, that it may freshly and healthily 
blossom and bear ripe fruits which sink down in this world to spring 
up in the other ? 


Shall Ave then never cease to stamx^ our children, boys and scholars, 
like coins, and to see them parade with foreign labels and foreign effi- 
gies, instead of seeing them going about amongst us as an image of 
the law of life implanted within them by God, the Father, wdth the 
expression of the divine, and as the image of God ? 

Do we fear that our children are and will be ashamed of us ? 

What race, w^hat people, and w^liat time, is great enough to sacrifice 
itself for the sake of its children, and for the representation of pure 

Indeed what father, what family, will feel the soul filled, and the 
power manifoldly ramified, by this thought ? 

For from the silent, hidden sanctuary of the family only can the 
welfare of the human race, first of all, return to us. With the found- 
ing of each new family, the heavenly Father, eternally working for the 
welfare of the human race, speaks to man by the heaven which lie has 
opened in the heart of the founder of the family, and which issues 
repeatedly to the human race, and to each individual man, the call to 
represent humanity in pure development, to represent man in genuine 

It is sufficiently manifest that our German mind and spirit can no 
longer endure the hitherto lifeless and extraneous knowledge and 
insight obtained by learning ; that a merely external, polished culti- 
vation can no longer suffice if we wish to be independent children, 
worthy of God. Therefore we need and seek knowledges germinated 
in our minds and spirits, freshly and healthily developed and 
strengthened, and increased by the sun of life, and in the condi- 
tions of life. 

Will we now cover anew with rubbish the spring of life which 
God has made to well forth in the mind and spirit of man, of each 
man, in our own mind and spirit ? Will we rob ourselves, and our 
pupils and scholars, of the inexpressible joy of having the fount of 
eternal life in their minds and spirits? 

Will you parents, and you who take the place of parents, educa- 
tors and teachers, continue to constrain your children to choke in 
with rubbish the fount of life within them, and hedge it in with 
briers ? 

You answer, " Only thus prepared do they make their way in the 
world. Children soon grow up ; who then will support them ? What 
shall they eat? W^hat shall they drink? With what shall they be 
clothed ? " 


Yon are not to receive the answer, " Seek ye first," etc. ; for yon 
conid not talve in and understand that in your estrangement from God 
and from yourself; but it will be repeatedly said to you, "Does 
success in life depend on a stupid, stupefying life, void of knowledge, 
work, and action ? " 

The human race is to enjoy knowledges and conceptions; it is 
to possess a power of work and action which you, which we, do not 
now anticipate ; for who has measured the limits of humanity born 
of God? But these knowledges, etc., are to grow out in the freshness 
and vigor of youth, as developments from each individual, as newly- 
created self-productions. 

The boy will not carry on his future business, his calling, lazily, 
negligently, and gloomily, but joyously and serenely, confiding in 
God, himself, and Nature, and enjoying a manifold blessing and 
success in his business. Peace, temperance, and all the high virtues of 
a citizen and a man, will dwell in his inner nature, as well as in his 
house, and he will feel himself satisfied in and by his sphere, in the 
efficiency of his sphere, — the high prize toward which we all strain. 

He will neither say, "My son shall carry on any other business 
rather than that which I have, for it is the most displeasing of all"; 
nor will he insist that his son shall engage in and carry on the 
business which he himself carries on with profit and advantage, 
because it suits his own individuality. He will perceive that each 
man may conduct the smallest business grandly; that each business 
may be so ennobled that it is not unworthy for the man to engage in ; 
he will recognize and perceive that the smallest power rightly applied 
to a work, with pleasure in and liking for it, may procure for man, 
bread, clothing, shelter, even esteem ; and he will therefore be 
without care for the future of the children, to unfold whose inner 
nature was his highest care. 

Section 87. 

As the individual directions of this united school and family life, 
of this active life of instruction and education, there necessarily 
proceed from the inner and outer requirements of the boy as a 
beginning scholar, the following : — 

The vivification, nourishing, strengthening, and cultivation of the 
religious sense, — keeping the mind of man in union with God, and 
always actively uniting it with God, — the sense which divines and 

158 EDUCATION OF :man. 

holds fast the living necessary unity of all things with all their 
difference of appearance, and which by its activity and powerfulness 
makes the boy live and act in accordance with this unity. 

In conformity to this, and with this object. 

Appropriations of religions expressions, particularly concerning 
Mature, man, and the relation of both to God, especially for praj^er, as 
a mirror in which the boy sees his original feelings, sensations, antici- 
pations and strivings which unite him with God, and thus brings 
them to his own knowledge, and holds them fast : 

Respect for, knowledge and cultivation of the body, as the bearer 
of the spirit, and the means of representing the nature of the spirit in 
exercises arranged to lead by degTees to such a cultivation of the body : 

Contemplation and consideration of Xature and the outside world 
connecting with and proceeding from the near, requiring knowledge 
of nearest surroundings before an advance is made to the remote and 

Appropriations of little poetical representations comprising Nature 
and life ; especially appropriation of little rhymes which give signifi- 
cance to the objects of surrounding Nature, life, the phenomena and 
occurrences of the scholar's own domestic life, which show them in 
their pure and deep significance as in a clear mirror ; and this espe- 
cially for singing and by song : 

Exercises in language and speech, proceeding from, and connected 
with, the contemplation of Nature and the outer world, and passing 
to a contemplation of an inner world, but always having distinctly 
and strictly in view language and speech only as audible means of 
representation : 

Exercises in outward corporeal representations in space, according 
to rule and law, advancing from the simple to the compound. Here 
belong representations generally by more or less formed material — 
building and handiwork in general, for formation ; paper, cardboard, 
woodwork, etc., as well as, lastly and especially, moulding from 
unformed or f ormable soft material : 

Exercises for the representation by lines on a surface (in and by 
means of constant, outwardly expressed visible reference to the 
vertical and horizontal directions suggested by the middle and breast 
line of man) ; which are the means of perception and comprehension 
of all outward forms, and which appear several times repeated by the 
side of and across one another, forming network ; therefore drawing 
in net according to outward necessary law : 


Comprehension of the colors in their difference and resemblance, 
and representation of them in already-formed snrface-spaces with 
predominating notice of forms already made ; 

Painting pictures in outline : 

Or with predominating notice of colors and their relations ; 

Painting in net, in squares : 

Play ; that is, freely active representations and exercises of every 
kind : 

Relation of stories and sayings, fables and fairy-stories connected 
with the occurrences of the day, time, and life, etc. 

All this now is shared between the domestic and school life, 
between the family life and the general human life, between home 
and school occupations. 

For boys of this age should already have certain small domestic 
occupations ; indeed they could be actually instructed while engaged 
in them, especially by mechanics and farmers, as is done, as has been 
already done, and accomplished by many a father, simple indeed, but 
guided by an active and strong sense of Xature. Boys of somewhat 
advanced age should often be placed in position, by parents and 
educators, to accomplish something with their own hands and their 
own judgment, and parents and educators need only be careful that 
self-examinations and firmness of judgment come to the boys by these 
means. It is very important, especially for boys of an advanced age, 
to devote daily at least one or two hours, with complete and firm 
determination, to an outward occupation, to an occupation for out- 
ward results. Effects of the greatest importance for life would 
proceed from this, as it is certainly one of the greatest injuries of 
our now existing school-arrangements, especially the so-called Latin 
and normal schools, that the boy who enters these schools is wholly 
removed from all domestic emplojnnent, all employment for the 
purpose of bringing out an outward result. Do not answer, "A boy 
must at this time, if he is to bring his knowledge to a definite stage 
and completeness, direct all his power to the point of learning words, 
of acquiring knowledge by means of words, of intellectual cultivation." 
Not at all; genuine experience teaches the contrary. Intellectual 
employment and intervening outward more corporeal employment, 
activity in outward productive work and result, strengthen not only 
the body, but quite predominantly also the spirit, the different direc- 
tions of the activity of the spirit ; so that the spirit after such a 
refreshing w^ork-bath (I cannot better designate it) goes with new 
vigor and new^ life to its intellectual employment. 


If we now consider the subjects of united family and school life 
before cited, they group themselves according to the total require- 
ments of the boy into subjects, — 

of the more tranquil, quiet inner life, 
of the more receptive life working within, and 
of the more outwardly-forming life working outwardly ; 
hence they also generally satisfy the need of man. 

Further : we see, by means of these subjects of instruction, all the 
senses, all the inner and outer qualities and powers of man, devel- 
oped, exercised, and cultivated, and thus the requirements of human 
relations and of the relations of life fulfilled. 

Finally, we see how the requirements of all these subjects, numer- 
ous and comprehensive as they appear, are all easily fulfilled by a 
simply arranged family life and life of instruction, by a united home 
and school life, and consequently necessarily satisfy the requirements 
of man at this stage. 

Let us now view this in particulars. 

B. Particular Consideration of the Individual Subjects of Instruction. 


vivification and cultivation of the religious sense. 

Section 88. 

If child and parents have grown up in union of life and mind, this 
union will certainly not only remain undiminished, through the whole 
time of boyhood, and yet longer, if new obstructing and disturbing- 
causes do not come in between to separate them, but will become 
so much the more confirmed and vivified as the boy advances in age. 

The question here is not of that hollow indefinite union of feeling 
which, as it were, makes one of two bodies, such as is found between 
parents and child ; but of that union of active minds and clear spirits 
which shows life in its effects and phenomena as a whole. 

This union of active minds and clear spirits, not the union which 
is perhaps at most only outward community of life, is the firm basis 
and foundation of genuine religiousness. 

The inner life, the clear representation of the inner spiritual life 
of man, is common to this union of spirit between parents and child, 
between parents and boy. 


What it was not possible, and is not now possible, for the father 
and mother to represent in themselves and by themselves, on account 
of hindering influences, they now seek to obtain in and by their son 
both in childhood and boyhood ; viz., representation of pure humanity 
in and by itself. 

The clear and sure experiences of the development, improvement, 
and continuous cultivation of his inner life, which the father bought 
dearly, often painfully and only with diminishing power, but for that 
reason can no longer apply in his own life, he commmiicates to his 
son, and the son uses these experiences (although foreign to his own 
outward experience, but vivifying and confirming themselves in his 
inner nature), and applies them with the yet undisturbed and un weak- 
ened vigor and freshness of youth. 

But all communications of parents to their son are lifeless and 
without effect where their life was not from an early period a con- 
stant, unbroken whole ; for two apparently different worlds, and the 
experiences of these two worlds, are opposed to one another with 
different requirements and different powers, for which the resembling- 
connection is wanting. 

But, on the other hand, he only who has tried to establish this fact 
can divine and measure what fruits proceed from that union of spirit 
between parents and child, between father and son, which has for its 
common ground and aim the cultivation and representation of the 
highest and purest of the pure human entity. 

From the consideration of the individual and joint life in respect 
to its inner ground and aim, but especially in respect to its inner and 
necessary living coherence^ necessarily conditioning such a union of 
spirit, there now proceed, for the mind and inner perception of man 
even in boyhood, the most unequivocal proofs and convictions that 
God, to speak humanly (as we can in general speak in no other way 
of the Divine, or at least in no other comprehensible effective way), 
still uninterruptedly guides humanity in and toward its development, 
improvement, and representation by his fatherly guardianship and 
care, and constantly also accompanies each individual as an essential 
part of the whole in all the occurrences of his life with fatherly, 
loving protection and help. 

For how could man otherwise or more comprehensibly mark the 
knowledge that the occurrences of life, truly recognized in their cause, 
nature, and significance, and made use of in conformity to this recog- 
nition, are always for the advantage of the individual, and of the 
whole ? 


These truths being confirmed in one's own life and the lives of 
'others, in individual and mutual life, in the life of man and of 
Nature, by experience and revelation, it must necessarily more and 
more clear and purify the boy's sense, heighten and increase his 
power, and confirm his courage and endurance, to find the union and 
unity of the revelations of Holy Writ, of mind, and of Xature, and 
thus to recognize himself as a part of a whole and totality which 
develops more and more widely before the eyes and the inner sense 
of the boy from the small parental and domestic sphere, and whose 
common eft'ort,^ amidst the most speaking proofs of divine guidance, 
help, and blessing, is to represent the spiritual in and by the cor- 
poreal, the divine in and by and through the human. 

The life of such a family, of such a boy, will necessarily be a life 
expressing in action and in jproduction the prayer of Jesus ; a life of 
trust in God, of love for God and man, of voluntary childlike obedi- 
ence to God ; a life in this sense always active and efficient, a Christ- 
like life, will again express itself in such a boy ; and so it will be 
possible for him to understand the teachings and requirements of 
Jesus in his own life, and by his own life, and so to apply them to his 
own life, and to live in accordance with them. 

A further religious instruction resting on such a spiritual and 
childlike union of spirit has a firm foundation ; such an instruction 
only is fruitful and rich in blessing; and it is fruitful and rich in 
blessing only in the measure in which a vivid sense and clear view of 
inner spiritual life is early awakened in the boy by favorable relations 
of life. 

There is no danger that any subject of inner spiritual life will be 
too high and too incomprehensible in its nature for the inner spiritual 
sense of the boy ; only let the facts be simply given and expressed to 
him, and his inner power will easily find the inner sense of them in the 
ways of perception and representation accessible to him. We now 
rely too little on the religious, and in general too little on the spiritual 
power of the sense and mind of the boy in early boyhood. Conse- 
quently the life and mind of the boy at a later period shows itself so 
empty, so without experience in reference to spiritual and purely 
human, moral, and religious perceptions, and therefore so ossified and 
lifeless, that very few and only weak fibres are found in him for con- 
nection with and instruction concerning a genuine religious life; and 

1 That is, the common effort of the whole above referred to. — Translator. 


yet such a life is now so much required in the following age by- 
boy and youth. 

Children are early awakened to and taught concerning a mass of 
externalities which they cannot understand, just because this mass is 
strange and external to them, and they remain unroused in reference 
to many inner things, untaught concerning so many, in fact almost 
all, inner things which yet they might understand within themselves. 
So cliildren are early introduced into the strange outer life, and, on 
the other hand, are estranged from the inner life ; for which reason 
their inner life is so hollow and withered. 

If man is to understand many truths, especially religious truths, he 
must be made to experience much, that is, to become conscious of the 
events, perhaps small in themselves, of his religious life, of the course 
of his spiritual development and of its limitations. 

Man must rise from the anticipation and knowledge of God as a 
father in his oiun life, to the anticipation and knowledge of God as 
the Father of all men and of all beings; else the future religious 
instruction is void and fruitless. 

]Many, very many religious errors and misconstructions, many not 
genuine and half-truths drop off by such an early observation of, or 
at least by unobstructed and undisturbed surrender to, the develop- 
ment of the inner spiritual life in harmony with the outer life and in 
reference to it. By such an observation and surrender would be also 
avoided the misunderstood prominence given to certain expressions of 
definite religious teaching, which in this one-sided presentation have 
exactly the contrary effect in and on the life of man which they were 
intended to have, as, for instance, the so common saying, " If you are 
good, you will be happy," which is brought forward in religious 
instruction in general with detriment to the life, the happiness, the 
satisfaction, and the constantly vigorously striving mind of man. 

To the simple boy who is still deficient in outward experience, 
who still feels and finds his life an undivided whole, inner and outer 
good, inner and outer happiness, inner and outer life, are still undi- 
vided, still differing but little from one another ; and so, without a 
doubt, without a conjecture that it could be otherwise, the inner, clear, 
pure life of the mind is also necessarily placed as an outei- one ; so the 
inner fruits of being good are also outwardly demanded and expected. 

But inner and outer, infinite and finite, are two woi'lds whose 
phenomena, compared according to their form, are outwardly entirely 
different, and must be different. Therefore that common saying, if it 


does not very early disturb and weaken the inner peace, the inner 
strength, of the boy, yet must necessarily fill him with false expecta- 
tions from life, must lead him to wholly false judgment, understanding, 
and use of the events of his life, to very important mistakes in life. 

Definite religious teaching should rather present, demonstrate to 
the boy in his own life and the life of all, and make perceptible in all 
development in Xature and humanity, the saying that he who truly 
desires the pure representation of humanity with earnestness, effort, 
and devotion, must necessarily live in outward oppression, in outward 
pain and need, in outward care and sorrow, in outward want and 
trouble and poverty ; for the demand of that effort is, that the inner 
spiritual true life should reveal, manifest, and represent itself. If 
this now takes place, the result must necessarily and unavoidably be 
as above stated. 

That they may have a vivid recognition and conception of this, let 
the boys view the requirements and limitations, the phenomena, of 
the development of a tree, in comparison with the necessary require- 
ments and limitations, the phenomena, of the spiritual development 
of the man. 

Each stage of development attained, though so beautiful and 
symmetrical in its place, must vanish and pass away, must be abso- 
lutely destroyed, if a higher stage of development and improvement 
is to appear : the protecting warming scales must fall off, if the young 
twig, thokfragrant blossom, is to unfold, although the tender twig, the 
delicate blossom, may be and often is exposed to the still iu clement 
spring weather. The fragrant blossom must fall off to give place to a 
fruit at first insignificant, sour, and bitter. The delicious red-cheeked 
fruit so refreshing to man must fall and decay, so that the young 
plant and tree may germinate in youthful freshness. 

Thus the psalms of David and the songs of those who battle for 
the attainment of the greatness of man, of the representation of pure 
humanity, resemble the fruits of their tree of life, which could abso- 
lutely appear only by the passing away of many of the earlier 
developments of life, dear and precious to them, to give place to later, 
higher, and nobler ones. 

And do not the expressions of those psalms, songs, etc., resemble 
kernels which, sown again in the fruitful soil of the mind of man, 
bear shady trees full of fragrant blossoms and strength-giving, eternal, 
immortal fruits? 

Therefore the condition of the highest development is to renounce, 
to dispense with, to let drop, the outer in order to gain the inner. 


With this, renunciation, etc. wholly harmonizes the expression 
coming from the other side of the contemplation, "The dearer the 
child, the sharper the rod," or " Whom the Lord loveth he chasten- 
eth " ; and this truth will reach the mind of any boy not wholly 
estranged. The man thus led, conscious of his honest effort, will not 
now surlily complain, like a refractory child, about the adverse occm'- 
rences in his life ; he will not say, " Why am I so unfortunate ? I 
have done nothing wicked ; at least I am conscious of nothing wicked. 
That other man, who is known to be wicked and evil, or is at least 
known to act according to merely outward view and judgment, on 
transitory and untenable grounds, is yet so fortunate." He will 
rather say to himself, "Just because you earnestly and firmly strive 
only for the highest and best, only for the abiding good, all merely 
relative apparent good must fall, that higher and more complete; 
developments, and finally more abiding fruits, may come forth." i 

Xot less injurious, and extremely hindering to the attainment of 
the aim given to man, is the frequently prevailing prominence given 
in religious teaching and religious instruction to the reward of good 
deeds and actions in the world to come, when they seem to be unre- 
warded here. This future reward has no effect on still rude minds 
with whom the sensuous enjoyments stand highest; boys and men 
with only natural good sense do not need it ; for if our deeds are 
good, if our conduct is pure, and if our actions are right, a reward in 
the other world will not be needed, even though in this all is lacking 
which the sensuous man considers valuable. 

It shows but a slight knowledge of the nature, and but a slight 
esteem for the worth, of man, when prominence must be given to the 
inducement of reward in the other world to raise man to a mode of 
action worthy of his nature, his calling, and his destiny. Man can (if 
it be only early made possible for him to be a genuine man) and is, 
therefore, to be led to feel his worth and his nature at each instant, 
and the feeling, the consciousness, of having lived and acted in accord- 
ance with and faithful to his nature, must be his highest reward, 
without needing, still less requiring, another outward reward. Or 
does the good child, in the instant when he has within himself the 
consciousness of having acted as a child worthy of his father, in the 
spirit and according to the will of his father, need and demand any 
thing more than the joy of this consciousness ? 

Does a simple, natural child, when acting rightly, think of any 
other reward which he might receive for his action than this con- 
sciousness, though that reward be only praise ? 


Shall not man act as purely and excellently toward God as the 
earthly son toward his earthly father ? 

And does not Jesus himself say, " My meat is to do the will of 
Him who sent me," that is, " The consciousness of doing the will of 
my Father maintains, heightens, and rejoices my life"? and does he 
not consider the poor already blessed on account of the heightened 
efficiency of the powers of the soul, and a conduct in accordance 
with it? 

How we degrade and lower the human nature which we should 
raise, how we weaken those whom we should strengthen, when we 
hold up to them an inducement to act virtuously, even though we 
place this inducement in another world ! If we employ an outward 
incentive, though it be the most spiritual, to call forth better life, and 
leave undeveloped the inner, spontaneous, and independent power of 
representing pure humanity which rests in each man, we degrade our 
human nature. 

But how wholly different every thing is, if man, especially in boy- 
hood, is made to observe the reflex action of his conduct, not on his 
outward more or less agreeable position, but on his inner, spontane- 
ous or fettered, clear or clouded, satisfied or dissatisfied condition of 
spirit and mind ! The experiences which proceed from this observa- 
tion will necessarily more and more awaken the inner sense of man ; 
and then true sense, the greatest treasure of boy and man, comes into 
his life. 

The future religious instruction will enlighten and illuminate 
these experiences, will bring them to consciousness, will unite and 
unify them, will draw from them the truths self-proceeding and thus 
resting in and confirming themselves, will show the application of 
these truths and the living in accordance with them in different stages 
of gradation everywhere where power, life, and spirit work, and will 
group them with the truths recognized and expressed by the enlightened 
man, by the man moved by the spirit of God. Thus genuine religious- 
ness will be the eternal, hereditary portion of this man (and at last, 
by degrees, of the whole human race), and all the elevation already 
shown by humanity, and expressed in and by humanity, will also 
repeat itself in him. And the religious training of the individual, 
blessing the individual and the world, comes thus more into harmony 
with the course of the religious element in humanity, by which means 
every fallacy and doubt, every arbitrariness, disappears of itself, and 
there remains to us only the blessed and blessing consciousness that 
in God we live, and move, and have our being. 


Appropriation of Relifjious Expressions. 

Section 89. 

It is certain that religious feelings, sensations, and thoughts well 
up and germinate in the human mind and spirit, doubtless because 
man is man ; and so also in the boy who has grown up in union of 
spirits with his parents, and has not become estranged. But now 
these sensations and feelings in their beginning, make themselves 
known to man, and in the mind of man and boy only as an effect, a 
sensation, a fulness without word and without form, generally without 
the expression of that which they are, — only as elevating life, and as 
filling the mind. It is at this stage extremely beneficial, strength- 
ening, and elevating for man, for the mind of the boy, that these 
sensations and feelings should be put into words, so that they may 
not moulder away, and, formless and speechless, be absorbed into 
themselves, pressed down, and destroyed. 

AVe need not fear that with strange words, a strange feeling will 
be introduced to and stamped upon the boys. The religious element 
has the peculiarity of pure air, clear sunlight, and pure water, — every 
earthly being absorbs it, and in each it forms itself into another form, 
figure and color ; in each it produces differing expressions of life. 

Take a simple religious expression which each boy can understand 
by and in his own life ; let six, twelve, or more boys appropriate it, 
and it will sproiit out on the life-tree of each as a shoot peculiarly 
belonging to each 

But of course the words must touch life in the boy. AVith the 
child the requirement to give life, form, and significance to words, 
must not be made, but the words must give language to the life and 
forms already existing in the mind of the boy ; and this life and these 
forms must thus obtain significance through the words. 

So a boy scarcely six years old, each evening begged one of his 
foster-parents who was taking him to bed, " Teach me a little 
prayer ; '' and having said the prayer he fell asleep quietly. One day 
something occurred which showed him not to be quite serene in his 
inner nature. The little prayer in the evening commenced as usual ; 
strongly and clearly he repeated it ; but a slight turn in it pointed to 
the occurrence of the day, and suddenly voice and word were hushed, 
so as to be scarcely audible ; but certainly the inner nature spoke only 
the more loudly. Yesterday he said to me for the first time on going 


to bed, " Pray the little prayer with me " ; a sign to me that there 
must be something which lay on his conscience. I suited the prayer 
to what I believed to be his need, and he slept quietly. 

Shortly after, the same boy came to me and brought a pictm-e he 
had just found. He was delighted with it as it was painted in bright 
colors. But at the moment he was about to show it to me, there 
came up a boy about one year and a half older, very lively, and appar- 
ently one who gave little attention to the inner life. " That is cruel," 
said he, looking at the picture, which represented the treatment of 
the Greeks, especially of the women and children, by the Turks. 
The children were told how much cause all who enjoyed an unperse- 
cuted, much more a faithfully fostered life had to thank God for it. 
" As we do morning and evening," quickly interrupted the livelier 
boy, although no particularly explanatory word had been said to him 
about it. 

From which we infer that it is neither necessary nor advisable to 
make, with younger boys, a too frequent change in the expressions 
which give language and significance to the inner life. 

respect for, knowledge and cultivation of the body. 
Section 90. 

Man esteems that alone which he not only knows in respect to its 
value, significance, and use, but which he can also apply and use, and 
concerning which he knows that on its good qualities, and therefore 
on the maintenance of these, depends the attainment of the work and 
aim for which he strives. We do not at all believe that man, especially 
in boyhood, knows his body because it is so near to him, still less that 
he knows how to use his limbs because they are one with his body. 
" Do not carry yourself so awkwardly," we hear frequently said to 
boys, especially in stations of life in which all-sided corporeal activity 
does not belong to the order of the day in childhood and early boyhood. 

We see that men with whom spiritual and corporeal cultivation do 
not keep pace, and reciprocally limit each other, at certain times and 
under certain circumstances do not at all know what they shall do 
with their bodies and limbs. Indeed to how many a one does not his 
own body appear as a burden ! how many a one does not feel his 
limbs as such ! 


"Now an occasional cnltivation of the body by bodily activity at 
home can help many. But since, in abnost all cases, this cultivation 
is very subordinate, and in most is applied only in a one-sided man- 
ner ; and since man must become conscious, not merely of his powers, 
but also of the means of using them, — only an all-sided cultivation 
of the body, and of all parts of the body, as the means and expression 
of spiritual training, can lead him to this consciousness. This idea is 
expressed even in the simplest instruction where the use and position 
of body and limbs is essential, for instance, in writing, drawing, learn- 
ing the use of musical instruments, etc. 

If the scholar has in such cases received no true all-sided cultiva- 
tion in the use of his body and limbs, and if this use of body and 
limbs has not been exercised to the point of becoming an abiding 
quality, a course of training and breaking in, deadening alike to 
teacher and scholar, can only lead to a poor aim ; and the continual, 
" Sit up straight," " Hold your arm right," drives all life and success 
out of the instruction. 

But active, vigorous bodies in all positions and for all employ- 
ments of life and calling, dignified carriage and deportment, is but 
one effect of all-sided cultivation of the body as the bearer of the 
spirit. A great deal of so-called unmannerliness, rudeness, and impro- 
priety, would vanish, especially in boyhood ; and we should not so 
often have to say and hear, " Do not be so unmannerly," " Do not be 
so rude in your expressions," " Stand properly," if we gave our chil- 
dren legitimate bodily exercises, advancing from the simple to the 
complex, claiming and cultivating man on all sides ; that is, bodily 
exercises in accordance with the cultivation of the spirit, referring to 
and conditioned by this cultivation. 

The will as such does not yet govern the body at every instant ; 
the body must therefore be fitted at every instant to obey the demands 
of the spirit, as he who plays upon a musical instrument plainly 

Therefore, without such a training of the body, there is no educa- 
cation leading to the perfection and the complete cultivation of man. 
Hence the body in this respect, as well as the spirit, must go through 
a true school ; and bodily exercises must be strictly carried on, 
advancing from the simple to the complex, and referring to the 
spiritual in man, as an object in each school ; for they lead to true 
breeding. Breeding is to bring the boy back strictly and fii-mly in 
all his actions to the worth of man, which has become perceptible to, 


and is felt by him ; to the highest esteem for his nature which flows 
from tnis perception ; that is, to let the worth of man, and esteem for 
his natm'e, be prominent, and express themselves in all his actions. 
This is the positive element in his education at this age; and the 
more vividly and plainly the boy and scholar divines and perceives the 
nature and the worth of man, the more clearly, simply, comprehen- 
sively, and necessarily do the requirements which proceed from the 
whole nature of man express themselves to him, so much the more 
earnestly and firmly must the educator insist on the fulfilment of 
these requirements. Indeed, if it should be necessary, he ought not 
hesitate to proceed from admonition to punishment, to severity-, for 
the sake of the welfare of the pupils. The scholar time, the boy time, 
is the time for breeding. Only the cultivation of spirit and body in 
unison and accord makes true breeding possible. 

Besides, the body also, or we might just as well say the mind 
demands, after a laborious activity of the latter, a strictly methodized 
laborious activity of body, and this strict bodily activity thus method- 
ized exerts again a strengthening reflex influence on the mind. There 
is true life, therefore, only where bodily and spiritual activity stand 
in methodized, active, reciprocal connection. 

But the bodily exercises have still another important side : it is 
this, — that they lead the boy at a later time to the vivid recognition of 
the internal construction of his body ; for here especially the boy feels 
vividly the inner, reciprocal, active connection of all the parts of his 
body. These perceptions, connected with only measurably good picto- 
rial representations of the internal construction of the human being, 
must necessarily cause, at least must induce an active participation in' 
the above-mentioned vivid recognition of and insight into the construc- 
tion of the human body and the attention to, and tendance of it, 
dependent on this recognition and insight. 

contemplation of nature and of the outside world. 
Section 91. 

AVhat was before done in this respect in childhood was isolated, 
and so without special coherence ; but now it appears arranged as 
much as possible in inner, necessary coherence suited to the course of 
man's development at this stage, and so, soon again ramifying and 


dividing, as the special and individual always proceeds from the 
general and whole. 

The recognition of each thing, of each being, of its destination and 
properties, proceeds everywhere most precisely and clearly from the 
local references and relations of objects in which the things stand, 
and expresses itself most loudly and clearly in such references and 
relations ; therefore the boy and scholar is necessarily brought to tlie 
clearest insight into the nature of objects, of Xature, and of the out- 
side world in general, when the things are brought before him, and 
recognized by him, in the natural connection in which they stand. 

Further : the relations and proportions of objects, and their signifi- 
cations, are naturally the plainest and clearest to the boy where he 
sees himself most impressively and constantly surrounded by them 
and their effects ; where, perhaps, the cause of their existence lies in 
himself, or at least proceeds from and relates to him. 

These are the objects most closely surrounding him, — the objects 
in the room, in the house, in the garden, the yard, the village (the 
city), the meadow, the field, the wood, the plain. From the room, his 
nearest surrounding, this arranged and arranging contemplation of 
Nature and the outside world proceeds, ]3assing from what is near 
and familiar to what is farther off and unfamiliar ; and, on account 
of this order, this summing-up and dividing now appears as an actual 

The course of teaching is as follows. The instruction again begins 
with the pointing-out of the object, which has before been recognized 
as necessary. Thus, for example, pointing to the table, — 

"What is that?" 
pointing to the chair, — 
. "What is that?" and so on. 

Now the summing-up question, 

" What do you see here in the room ? " 

" The table, the chair, the bench, the window, the door, the flower- 
pot," and so on. 

The teacher writes down upon the slate the objects named by one 
or more children, and then repeats them in concert with the scholars. 
The teacher further questions : — 

" Do the tables and chairs stand in the same relation to the room 
as the window and door ? " 

"Yes." — "No." 

" Why yes ? " — " Why no ? " 


" Now what are window and door in relation to the room ? " 

" Parts of the room." 

" Tell me all of the parts of the room you know." 

" The walls, the ceiling, the floor, and so on. All these are parts 
of the room." 

"As the door, the window, are each a part of the room, is the 
room itself a part of any greater whole ? " 

" Yes : of the house." 

" What else are parts of the house ? " 

"The house-floor, the chamber, the kitchen, the staircase," and 
so on. 

After the scholars have named all the parts of the house, teacher 
and scholars repeat together, as usual, — 

" The house-floor, parlor, chamber, kitchen, staircase, garret, cellar," 
and so on, " are parts of the house." 

The recitation in concert, by all the scholars, of what has been 
before said is highly important as an exercise of perception, concep- 
tion, designation, and readiness of speech. 

" Have all houses the same parts which this house has ? " 


" What parts has this house which other houses have not ? " 

" What parts have other houses which this house has not ? " 

" By what are the most essential parts of a house conditioned and 
determined ? " 

"By the use of the house or building, and what it is meant for. 

"What are the most essential parts which each dwelling-house 
must have to be called a complete dwelling-house ? " 

" Besides the objects which are parts of this room, you named 
others which are not parts of the room, but which you see in the 
room • name to me again several of these." 

"Chairs, tables, flower-pots, paintings, engravings, books," and 
so on. 

"Do chairs, tables, and benches have the same relation to the 
room which paintings, flower-pots, books, and such things do ? " 



" Now, what are benches, tables, and such things in relation to the 
room ? " 

" They are necessary to it ; they belong to it." 

" All the objects which belong to a room are called the furniture 
of the room." 


" Tell nie all the objects which you know to be the furniture of 
the room." 

" Has each of the other spaces in the house objects which belong 
to it?" 

" Yes : the kitchen, the chamber," etc. 

"What objects belong in the kitchen, in the chamber?" etc. 

" These objects are called kitchen-furniture, chamber-furniture," 

"But are there not also in a house pieces of furniture which do 
not belong exclusively to any single space or room?" 

« Yes : this, this." 

" Such things, as well as all the furniture that belongs in a house, 
are called house-furniture." 

" Tell me all the house-furniture you know." 

" The house has its particular parts, rooms, and spaces ; but is not 
the house again the part of a greater whole ? " 

" Yes : of the premises." 

" What objects belong to the premises ? " 

" The yard, the garden, the house, the wash-house, the barn," etc. 

"AVhat kind of objects are in the yard, and belong to it?" 

" The movable objects which belong to the yard are called yard- 

"What belongs in the garden, and is used for garden-work?" 

" All the movable objects which belong in the garden, and are 
used for garden-work, are called garden-furniture." 
Etc., etc. 

" All the furniture which belongs to the yard, to the garden, to 
the barn, to the wash-house, is called domestic-furniture." 

" As the house and yard are each a part of the premises, are the 
premises a part of any greater whole ? " 

" Yes : of the village." 

"What do you see in the village which belongs to it? which 
together form the village ? " 

"•Houses, wash-houses, gardens, yards, churches, schoolhouses, 
parsonages, the common, the public hall, the smithy, wells," etc. 

"What have the houses of the village in common in respect to 
their occupants, or peculiar to some of them ? " 

" They are either farmers', mechanics', or laborers' houses." 

" What is the peculiarity of the farmhouses ? " 

" What is essential to a mechanic ? " 


" The workshoi^." 

" What belongs in the workshop and to the workshop ? " 

" The tools." 

« What belongs in the public hall ? " 

" "What belongs in the schoolhouse ? " 

"What belongs to the church and in the church?" 

"What is outside of the village, and surrounds it?" 

" The plot of ground belonging to the village, or the limits." 

"What is the village in respect to the plot of ground, or the 

" The middle point." 

"A^Tiat objects do you see in the plot of ground, in the limits?" 

"Fields, meadows, roads, paths, streams, ditches, bridges, grass- 
plots, stones, and fir-trees which mark the boundaries." 

" Is the plot, or are the limits, part or parts of a greater whole, as 
a yard is a part of the premises ? " 

"Yes: of the landscape." 

" What did you see, and what do you see, in the landscape ? " 

" Mountains, valleys, hills, dales, roads, bridges, high-roads, rivers, 
brooks, villages, mills, cities, castles, ponds, canals, forests," etc. 

Geography as an independent subject of instruction develops from 
this point. 

The contemplation of the outer world has this peculiarity, which 
is therefore conditioned in it, that from it all directions of informa^ 
tion about objects and things develop at precise necessary places, like 
the buds and twigs in the branches. 

This peculiarity will repeatedly express itself in considering a 
course of instruction which conforms to the laws of Nature and reason. 
In general, the place for the introduction of each new, independent 
subject of instruction, is determined without arbitrariness, as firmly 
and necessarily as the ramifications of symmetrically arranged plants. 
Of course the indication for this is often very slight, like the desii'e of 
a new bud to sprout forth ; and often makes itself known only in a 
quiet disposition of spirit and mind on the part of the teacher, in 
which he, quietly observing the requirements and limitations of the 
subject of instruction, wholly yields to them ; or rather, in which the 


subject so wholly lives in him, that its requirements and its nature 
express themselves directly m his mind and spirit, he, as it were, 
perceiving them directly within himself. But if the instant when the 
new twig of any subject of instruction desires to shoot forth is allowed 
to pass by unnoticed, each later or earlier, consequently arbitrary, 
introduction and reception of the subject of instruction (which is yet 
recognized as necessary) is always a lifeless one, and, though there is 
nothing to be said against the necessity of the subject of instruction, 
it yet appears as an adjunct, and works only as such . 

Every teacher striving with genuine love and faith, after a spirited 
instruction in accordance with the laws of Nature and reason, will 
certainly experience this fact often and painfully, if in a conceited, 
dogmatic, gloomy, or dull mood, he has overlooked the moment of 

He will exert himself without result ; his course of instruction will 
be automatic, and, like a rattle, empty and lifeless. 

Therefore, certainly, this observation of the instant in which, and 
the place at which, a new subject of instruction makes its appearance 
as a new ramification, is most important to a spirited, life-giving, and 
life-awakening instruction. 

The nature of a life-awakening and developing instruction in 
accordance with the laws of Nature and reason, consists mostly in 
discovering and holding fast this point ; for, if it is truly found, the 
subject of instruction goes on developing independently according to 
its oMii abiding active law, like every other life-whole, and thus, in a 
very real sense, teaches the teacher himself. 

Therefore all the teacher's attention must be directed to this 
sprouting-point of the ramification of instruction, lest it slip by. 

The neglect of this requirement, and the results of this neglect, 
will mark the manner of instruction and the course of teaching not in 
accordance with the laws of Nature, a manner and coui'se which 
destroy themselves. 

We return, after this interpolation, to the course of teaching the 
boy to comprehend the outer world. 

" In the surrounding country you saw trees, towers, rocks, springs, 
walls, forests, and villages ; look at all these and at all the other 
objects in sight, and see whether each of these things is the only one 
of its kind, or whether several can be grouped together as being of 
like kinds." 


" Several things belong together as bemg of like kinds." 
" Xame several things which you think belong together as being 
of like kinds." 

"When you compare with one another the numerous things in sight 
which belong together, do they show a fundamental difference?" 
" Yes : some things are made by man, and some by Nature." 
" The first are called works of man ; the second, ivo7^ks of Nature, 
or natural objects." 

" Find out several works of Nature which are in sight, and which 
you know." 

" Trees, fields, meadows, grass, brooks, ditches," etc. 
" Find out several works of man which are in sight, and which 
you know." 

" Walls, fences, hedges, paths, arbors, vineyards," etc. 
" Can fields and meadows be called pure works of Nature ? " 
"Yes." — "No." 
" Why yes ? " — " Why no ? " 

" Can arbors, hedges, vineyards, and the like be called pure works 
of man?" 
" No." 

"Why no?" 

" Such objects as arbors, vineyards, fields, meadows, and improved 
fruit-trees, are called works of Nature and man.'" 

"Mention several works of Nature and man in your neighborhood." 
(Repetition in concert by teacher and scholars, as always.) 
" Find several natural objects within your range of vision, examine 
them closely, compare them with one another, and see if you perceive 
any further separating or uniting fundamental and principal differ- 
ences among them ; for example, — 

the tree, 
the rock, 
the stone, 
the river, 
the bird, 
the oak, 
the deer, 
the fir, 
the thunder, 
the lightning, 
the air." 


" They show separating and uniting differences." 

" Good. What differences ? " 

"Deer, bug, cow, bird, snail, are animals." 

" Pine, oak, moss, grass, are vegetables, plants." 

"Air, water, stone, rock, are minerals." 

" Rain, thunder, lightning, are natural phenomena." 

"Mention all the animals with which you are familiar in your 

"Name the plaiits." 

" Then the minerals ." 

"Finally, name the natural 2:>henomena." 

" Now consider the animals in respect to the place in which they 

" Are they born, do they live and feed, in places of the same kind, 
or of different kinds ? " 

"In places of different kinds. They live either in the house, the 
yard, the premises, or in the open air; and then 

in the field, on the plain, or in the wood; 
on the land or in the ivater ; 
in the air or in other things." 

" Animals which live in the house, belong to the house, and which 
keep principally to men and their dwellings, are called house-animals." 

"Animals which live principally on the plain are called plain- 

" Animals which live principally in the woods are called icood- 

" Animals can also be classed as land-animals, loater-animals, animals 
which live in both air and water (amphibia), air-animals," etc. 

As the animals were considered in respect to the place in which 
they principally live, the plants and vegetable groivths should be 
carried through by the teacher, as house-plants, greenhouse and hot- 
house plants, as room, garden, field, meadow, wood, loater, sioamp, and 
parasitic vegetable growths. 

The minerals are carried through in the same way, though they 
offer fewer differences in this respect. In a similar way and accord- 
ing to similar respects, the natural phenomena are carried through as 
phenomena of earth, air, ivater and fire. 

" In what reference, and according to what respects, were the 
objects of Nature hitherto considered?" 

" In reference to the place in which they are born, and in which 
they live." 


" Do the objects of I^ature come nearer to or farther from people 
accordmg to the place in which they live ? Is there any difference in 
the way of living, the behavior, the utterances and qualities, of the 
objects of Nature, according to whether they are nearer to or farther 
from people ? " 


« No." 

" Why yes ? " — " Why no ? " 

The objects of Nature which are nearer to men, and more subject 
to their influence, are weaker, more sensitive, needing more care, are 
more tractable, etc. ; they are generally more tame ; the objects of 
Nature which are remote from man, and less subject to his influences, 
are more i*ough, are ivild. 

" Mention the tame animals in your neighborhood which you 

"Mention the loild animals in your neighborhood which you 

The tame animals can also be considered in reference to their use- 
fulness and use, and here as useful animals, animals which afford pro- 
tection, animals which are used for pleasure, beasts of burden, draught 
animals, etc. 

The wild animals can be considered as useful and harmful animals. 

The plants and vegetables can be considered in the same way. 

The tame plants are also called cidtivated plants, etc. Something 
similar may also be said of the minerals ; for example, wood-streams 
and well-water, rocky soil and cultivated grounds, etc. 

" As you have hitherto considered the objects of Nature familiar to 
you, and which are in your neighborhood in reference to the place in 
which they are born and in which they live, can they also be consid- 
ered likewise in any other similar respect ? " 

"Yes," in reference to the tinie, for example: — 
Winter and summer fruits ; 
Spring, summer, and autumn flowers. 

Animals, plants, and the phenomena of Nature can also be con- 
sidered in this way, for instance : — 

In winter the northern lights ; 
In summer thick fog ; 
In spring and autumn, mist ; 
In winter, snow, ice, hoar-frost. 


So with us 

the swallow is a summer bird ; 

the lark and water-wagtail are spring birds ; 

the snow-goose is a winter bird. 

So there are day-butterflies, hawk-moths which fly usually at 
twilight, and night-moths. 

So there are May, June, and July bugs. 

So March blossoms (snowflakes), May blossoms (dandelions), 
sj)ring blossoms (snowdrops). 

But the animals, especially the bii'ds, can also be considered in 
respect to place aryd time as spring and autumn birds-of -passage. 

The consideration of the animals in respect to their manner of 
living is especially important here, for example : — 
Fles]i-Q3Xmg, rapacious animals ; 
GVasft'-eating or ^ra/n-eating animals, etc. 

Here now the especial knowledge of natural objects, the descrip- 
tions of the objects of Nature, and, later, natural history, which has to 
do with the discovery and perception of the more inward properties, 
especially those which relate to the construction of the members, 
immediately follows as a new and independent subject of instruction, 
as did natural philosophy before, with the consideration of the phe- 
nomena of Xature dependent upon the operations of the powers, etc. 
The consideration of the minerals also necessarily points to physics. 

The transition from the general consideration of Xature (as a 
consideration of the outer world) to the science of Xature, the 
description of the objects of Xature, and natural history, makes the 
next consideration, that of the creatures which are nearest to man by 
their life and their usefulness or harmfulness. Then follows the dis- 
tinction of those which are born alive (mammalia) and the egg-laying 
creatures; between those creatm-es which lay eggs and brood them, 
and those which only lay eggs, leaving their hatching to Xature, etc. 

The science of Nature and the description of the objects of Xature 
have later to do, first of all, with the comprehension and seeking out of 
the distinguishing, separating and uniting outward properties of the 
objects of Xatiu-e, of their conditions and causes, of their effects and 
consequences ; and especially with the discovery and recognition of 
the natural classification and necessary connection of the things of 
Xature — a classification and connection which proceed from these 
properties — and with the compi-ehension of the external properties 


by which the inner nature of the thing expresses itself outwardly, 
most unequivocally and peculiarl}'. 

By the ascent from the especial and individual to the general and 
the most general, and the descent again from the general to the 
esx^ecial and most especial, by this fluctuation, as it were, of the 
course of instruction, especially of the consideration of the outer 
world, the course of instruction not only corresponds to life itself, but 
it becomes equally possible to exhaust the knowledge of each object 
for each stage of the intellectual development and power of compre- 
hension of the scholar. 

As, in what has gone before, the objects of Nature were considered 
and comprehended in all their outward evident references, — in 
respect to place, time, manner of living, expressions of life, etc., — 
and all was said that could be said about these references, the uwls 
of man can be outwardly considered in a quite similar way. 

" Seek out works of man which you know in your neighborhood 
and within yom* range of vision, and see if they show any difference 
and what differences they show." 

'' The house, the village, the high-road, the bridges, the city, the 
walls, the plough, the boundary stone, the wagon, the sign-post," etc. 

" AVell, what differences do they show ? " 

" They are different in their origin, their material, their use and 

"Seek out works of man which are different in their use and 

" What differences do they show in this respect ? " 

" They serve man for dwellings, or for use and protection, or as 
tools and utensils with which to make something ; they serve for con- 
venience, and especially make it easier for men to get together, or for 
pleasure, or they are mere results of man's power and man's mind." 

" A^'hat works of man are there which give to man a dwelling- 
place and an abode ? " 

"Houses, villages, cities." 

" What has a city, which is peculiar to it ? " 

" Streets, alleys, market-places, town-hall, stores, workshops, and, 
in short, very different kinds of buildings." 

*' In what are the buildings of a city especially different?" 

" In their use, in the purposes for which they were meant." 

" AVhat difference do the buildings of a city show in the pm'poses 
for which they were meant ? " 


"They are dwelling-houses, houses for work, public buildings, 
buildings for pleasure, and buildings for beauty." 

" What are the different kinds of business houses ? " 

" Workshops, manufactories, stores, warehouses," etc. 

"What different kinds of loorksliops are there in a city?" 

" The shops of cabinet-makers, smiths, tailors, saddlers, belt- 
makers, shoe-makers, carriage-makers, bakers, tinmen, weavers," etc. 

"What is peculiar to each workshop?" 

" The tools." 

" What tools belong in the cabinet-maker's shop ? " 

" What tools belong in the smith's shop ? " 

And so on with each shop. 

"For what purpose are the workshops meant?" 

" To produce, to make, to form something." 

" What is produced in the cabinet-maker's shop ? " 

" What is made in the smith's shop ? " 

And so on in each shop. 

Likewise with the different manufactories ; " first, what stuff and 
working implements do they contain ? secondly, what is produced in 

So with the warehouses ; " for what do they serve ? and what do 
they contain ? " 

" Are the stores also different ? " 

"In what are the stores essentially different?" 

"In what they contain." 

"What differences do the stores show in respect to what they 
contain ? " 

"They contain 

either productions of Nature and skill, which are principally sold 
by iceight, and especially adapted to the food of people ; 

or they contain productions of skill, which are principally sold by 
long measure ; 

or they contain all kinds of trifles, either for use and necessity, or 
for beauty and ornament, and so on, which are sold according to their 
own individual value and by number," etc. 

" The first are groceries ; the second dry-goods stores ; the third can 
again be very different, according to their contents : — 
hardware stores, 
millinery stores," etc. 


" What does a grocery contain that is essential to it ? " 

" "What essential difference do all these goods show in reference to 
the place where they are produced ? " 

" They are either native or foreign." 

" Name some native groceries." 

" Name some foreign groceries." 

In the same way, what is most essential and peculiar to each store 
is brought forward and taught. 

The public buildings also are distinguished and grouped according 
to their use, as buildings for instruction, houses of correction, build- 
ings for the worship of God, for nursing and charity, poorhouses, 
police-stations, com't-houses, buildings for amusement, memorial 
chapels, etc. 

So will also the contents of these public buildings be gone through 
with according to their use ; for example, the buildings of instruction, 
the printing-offices, etc. 

Xow the consideration rises from the work to the master of the 
work, from the product to the maker, from the effect to the cause ; 
therefore from the works of man to man, as, from the consideration 
of Nature to its Creator, God. 

" What are those people called who work in the cabinet-maker's 
shop, and make the things which come from it?" 

" Joiners," etc. 

"IVliat are all those people who work in workshops mostly called?" 


" Are the working-places of other producers of external works also 
called workshops when the producers are not mechanics?" 

"Yes: the sculptor's shop." 

" Are there also mechanics who have no special place for working, 
no special workshop ? " 

"Yes; the masons, the carpenters, the plasterers." 

"What are those persons called who work in manufactories?" 

" Manufacturers." 

" Tell me all the kinds of mechanics that you know." 

(Likewise all the kinds of manufacturers.) 

" Do the different trades (likewise the manufactories) group them- 
selves according to their destinations, as belonging together ? " 


" According to what respects and destinations are the mechanics 
grouped ? " 


" According to the material they use, and therefore according to 
the kind of work they do ; for example the worker in wood." 

" Can the different outward results of man's activity, consid- 
ered according to their special destinations, also be grouped and 
separated ? " 

"Yes; either according to the material, or their origin, or their 

" How can the different outward productions of man be considered 
in respect to their different material ? " 

" As productions of the stone, plant, and animal kingdoms. The 
material may be either principally and exclusively stone and mineral ; 
or exclusively and essentially wooden and vegetable; or metal; or 
stone (mineral) and wood (vegetable) ; or stone and metal ; or wood 
and metal ; or wood and stone ; or finally, the productions may be 
especially of animal material, or of mixed and indeterminable 

" How can the different outward productions of man's activity be 
distinguished and grouped, according to their use?" 

" As protective works, useful works, works of pleasure, works of 
art, memorial works, and works of magnificence." 

The dwellings, the clothes, the fortifications, the weapons, can be 
considered as protective works, and all can again be distinguished 
according to particular respects ; thus, for example, the weapons, as 
shooting, stabbing, and cutting weapons. 

So the works of use as works for the maintenance of social order 
and social intercourse ; for example ; 

bridges, high-roads, boundary-stones, sign-posts, etc. ; or as works 
for production; such as working-tools, implements for service, 

" The tools can again be considered and grouped, as : — 
separating tools, 
boring and puncturing tools, 
thrusting and sti-iking tools, 
drawing and smoothing tools, and 
stamping and pressing tools. 
" Seek out separating tools.''' 

" The axe, the wedge, the chisel, the hedging-bill," etc. 

These can again be considered, as : — 
cutting and chopping tools, 
satcing, splitting, and breaking tools. 


" Name sev^eral examples of each." 

" Seek out thrusting and striking tools." 

" Hammer, ram, pestle, mallet," etc. 

"Name the boring said puncturing tools." 

"Gimlet, auger, wimble, awl, paling-iron, needle," etc. 

" Name the draicing and smoothing tools which you know." 

" The rasp, the file, the polishing-tooth* the plough, the harrow, 
the whetstone, the folding-stick, the plane." 

" Seek out stamping and pressing tools." 

(As always, the discoveries made are repeated by the teacher and 
children together.) 

Just so with the implements of service. 

" What is the difference between implements of service and tools?" 

The materials have been mostly already considered. In a similar 
way, the works for pleasure, the memorial works, the works of mag- 
nificence, and especially the works of art, are considered. As before, 
the contents of the public buildings were considered, so now is 
their use. 

"For what are the town-hall, the court, and the guard-house 
intended ? and what is done in each ? " 

" For what are the schools meant ? " 

"For what are the churches meant?" 

" What are the persons called who employ themselves in the town- 
hall, in the court, and in the church as such ? " 

" Judges, lawyers," etc. 

" Aldermen," etc. 

" School-teachers," etc. 

" What is the business of the lawyers," etc. ? 

"What is the business of the aldermen," etc. ? 

The same with the school-teachers and ministers. 

" Does the city only show all this ? " 

" What makes a city a city ? " 

" Are there different kinds of cities and towns ? " 

" Yes, — country towns, county towns, capital cities, sea towns, 
commercial towns, and university towns." 

"What is the essential peculiarity of each of these towns and 
cities," etc. ? 

" And of their inhabitants ? " 

" Are there other activities, employments, and ministries of men, 
which have not yet been named ? " 


" Yes, many." 


" The employments of the handicraftsman who is not exactly a 
mechanic, of the day-laborer, of the hnnter, fisher, gardener, farmer, 
grazier," etc. 

"Is there, or is there not, a certain resemblance or likeness among 
the different activities and e'mployments of men ? " 

" Yes ; there are precisely grouping resemblances and likenesses." 


" Have all the different activities of men an object ? " 

" Are the different objects of man's activity of one kind, or of 
different kinds?" 

"What is the final object of all man's activity, of all man's 
working and creating?" 

" Since the final object of all human activity, of all human working, 
is one only, do men live, and have men lived also, in one and the 
same relation, whatever employment, and whatever work, they may 
have besides?" 

"Yes, — in the family relation." 

" Since all men, without exception, live and have lived in family 
relation, but since, also, all men strive towards the highest and last 
aim, viz., the purest representation and the attaining of the clearest 
consciousness of the nature given by God to man, where, therefore, 
will men be most certainly and surely trained to the attainment of 
this last aim of their activity and effort? and where must they be 
developed to the attainment of this aim ? " 

"In the famili/." 

" What are the outward limitations of a family ? and what are the 
essential members of a family ? " 

"Father, mother, child, and also the servants." 

"How must, therefore, a family be constituted, if man is to be 
represented by it, and developed through it for the highest and ulti- 
mate end of life ; if in it and by it man is to reach to this end ? " 

" It must recognize this ultimate end and the means of reaching 
it; must understand the way and means of reaching it; and must 
assist this by its powers, capacities, insight, and means, according to 
the determinations and requirements of the highest end, and having 
this only in view," etc. 

" Even though a single family corresponded to all these require- 
ments, would it be in a condition to reach the highest and ultimate 
end of human effort by itself ? " 




" Because it is impossible for a single family to contain in itself 
all powers, capacities, and means for this purpose." 

" Then how will the ultimate end of man be most easily and surely 
reached ? " 

""When several families, recognizing the highest end of human 
life and effort, understanding the means for reaching this, and mutu- 
ally benefiting, and assisting each other by their powers, knowledges, 
and means, unite for this highest end. 

" Only the human race as a whole, as a unit, can reach the highest 
and ultimate end of all human effort, — representation of pure 

Thus, after a great circuit and many windings, the scholar has 
returned to the house and the family-room from which he started 
at the beginning of the contemplation of the outside world and of 
Nature; he has returned to the middle point of all earthly human 
impulses and efforts, though with other eyes and senses, although the 
objects of the outer world were for the most part only outwardly 
brought forward and contemplated. He has found man in his differ- 
ent relations to the things of the outside world ; he has found — 

This subject of instruction, being the first, was, for that reason, 
carried out to such an extent in order to show how all instruction 
must proceed from the scholar and his nearest surroundings, must 
refer back and return to man. 

It scarcely need be said to those who think, though not deeply, 
that the answers last pointed out, in the completeness and coherence in 
which they are given, neither should nor could be given by the scholars, 
even by those who have advanced in age during the course of the 
instruction ; but the conceptions which these answers contain should 
be developed in the scholar. And he is certainly sufficiently devel- 
oped to be able to receive these conceptions, even at his still inferior 
stage of judgment. 

Just as little does it need to be said to those who think, that, since 
the instruction is and must be connected with the locality of the 
scholars, therefore, in the application of this, every thing must be 
excluded which is outside of the scholar's sphere of life. It should 


merely be pointed out how this contemplation of the outside world 
and Xature, according to a law and course of teaching contained in it 
in unity and wholeness, embraces all which Xature and the outside 
world bring before the observer. Yet some similar references, as, for 
example, to the business or the higher spiritual activities of man, to 
all declared relations and efficiencies of man, present themselves ; and, 
the more rarely and recedingly they present themselves, the more 
necessary it is to comprehend and retain them in order to connect 
with them higher and further developments. For who does not see 
what obtrudes itself for observation and judgment (with the degi-ee of 
at least external cultivation now becoming general), even into the life 
of the country-people living in the greatest retirement, since not only 
the consideration, but also the penetration and control of the higher 
relations of life and Xature are becoming more and more what they 
should be, — a problem for the whole human race to solve? 

It would also not be considered necessary to give thinkers (and 
only thinkers should teach and instruct) the sprouting-point for each 
new twig of instruction; for instance, for the so-called science of 
Xature (physics) in the phenomena of Xature, the remarkable coming 
out of inwardly working powers ; for chemistry, likewise in certain 
phenomena of Xature, the change of matter, either by the influence of 
general activities of Xature, such as light and heat (as, for example, 
with the coloring, the strong aromatic odor of certain leaves in 
autumn, decay, etc.), or by the influence of matter on matter. 

So the sprouting-point for technology is in the consideration of 
the trades, etc. 

It is generally well for the teacher to find all this for himseK ; the 
recognition is then more vivid, and the instruction gains in interest. 

And why should not every thinker find within himself the right 
way, if he only faithfully and willingly, without sophistry, scepticism, 
or self-conceit, allows himself to be guided by the spirit? In all men 
and in all beings there works but the One Divine Spirit given to 
them all. 

And even the experienced teacher, though he should teach again 
and again the simplest things, will learn by teaching (at least it has 
always been so with the MTiter up to present time). 

From what other source came to the teacher the strength and 
courage for teaching, — the courage which he can. so easily lose by the 
hindrances and difficulties arbitrarily laid in the way by ignorance 
and prejudice? 


Therefore there will be raised, in reference to the scholar, the 
further objection, — " How can the boy, especially at the age here 
supposed (from six to eight years, perhaps more), already possess 
the knowledge here brought forward? The adult himself scarcely 
possesses such knowledge." 

He cannot now possess it ; but it is to come to him gradually in 
the course of instruction ; and it certainly does come to him as has 
been shown by frequent repetitions of this course of teaching, the 
outward form of which comes mostly from the scholars. Also there 
will be roused in the boy such a habit of observation of the objects of 
Nature and the outside world, that scarcely any thing of even slight 
importance escapes his notice, and he thus certainly affords supple- 
mentary certification to that to which his attention was called in a 
former study-hour. So man learns early that which his destination 
requires, — to observe and to think. 

Besides, even the boy, and still more the man, knows more than 
he is conscious of knowing. 

Now it is said that such an instruction would lead the boy too 
early out of his natural narrow bounds ; that he would become vain 
of his knowledge through the manifoldness which he receives into 

Manifoldness of knowledge in necessary living connection never 
causes vanity ; for it makes man thoughtful, and shows him that he 
on the whole knows but little. The former effect raises the human 
being to a man ; the latter gives him his finest ornament, — modesty. 

Yet how would it be possible to meet all the objections and con- 
tradictions that have been brought forward, and may still be brought 
forward ? 

Therefore we leave the nature, compass, and effect of this subject 
of instruction and this course of teaching, to the consideration of 
one and all ; for there is much, very much more to be said concerning 
the importance of this course. Rightly known and rightly compre- 
hended, it can be applied and carried out in the most inferior school ; 
and it vindicates itself, for it places man early, in a simple, animated 
manner, in the middle point and inner coherence of all that which 
offers itself outwardly to man's recognition and even presses itself 
upon him for consideration. Thus this course leads man to thought- 
fulness, to knowledge and conception of the nature, the ultimate 
cause, as well as of the ultimate end, of all things. This knowledge, 
and a use and application of it wholly in accordance with it, is indeed 


the final aim of all instruction, however different may be the names 
by which it is called. 

appropriation of little poetical representations compris- 
ing nature and life, and used especially for singing. 

Section 92. 

Nature and life speak very early to man ; but they speak softly, so 
softly that the yet undeveloped sense of the boy, the yet uni:)ractised 
ear of man at this stage of development, still receives with difficulty 
the language and tones of life and Xature. This unpractised ear 
indeed receives and feels them, but the boy does not yet understand 
how to point them out, how to translate them into his language, how 
to express them in his own language. And yet, soon after he first feels 
and knows himself as differing from the outside world, the yearning 
arises in his mind to understand the life and language of the outside 
world, especially of Nature, and the anticipation also arises that he 
will at some time receive into himself the life which enters every%vhere 
from without, and make it his own. 

The seasons, as well as the time of day, come and go. The spring, 
wdth its germinating and sprouting and blossoming, fills man, even in 
boyhood, with pleasure and life ; the blood flows more quickly, and 
the heart beats more loudly. The autumn, with its falling, colored, 
and variegated leaves, and its aromatic fragrance, fills man, even as a 
boy, with yearning and anticipation. And the rigid but clear, con- 
stant, and steady winter awakens courage and strength; and this 
feeling of courage and strength, endurance and renunciation, makes 
the boy's heart and mind free and glad. Therefore he scarcely exults 
as much over the first birds and blossoms of spring as over the first 
snowflakes, which promise his courage and strength a smooth, quick 
passage to a distant goal. 

All these feelings are presages of the future life; they are the 
hieroglyphics of the quiet and still slumbering inner life; and when 
rightly recognized, estimated, and understood, they are angels who 
lead man in and through life : therefore they should not be lost for 
man, they should not be allowed to pass away into empty vapor and 

And what does our life have, if our childhood and youth w^ere poor 
and empty, — poor in and empty of fresh, aspiring and hoping, antici- 


pating and believing sensations and feelings -which elevate living 
forms and life, — poor in and empty of having felt and become con- 
scious of our nobler selves ? 

If we ^Yill but admit it, is not our childhood and youth — the 
aspiration and hope, the anticipation and belief of our childhood and 
youth, especially of our boyhood — the inexhaustible fount from 
which we in later life, and for our later life, obtain strength, courage, 
and endurance? 

Is not 

" The heavens declare the glory of God," etc., and 

"Blest is the man who fears the Lord," etc., in spite of all his 
errors, the fundamental thought in the life of the bard of God and of 
Nature ? 

And although this thought does not express itself for us in our 
earlier life, yet the later time shows that, even in the earliest stage of 
life, this thought worked in it, dwelt in it, and moved it. 

And did not the former psalm proceed from the observation of 
Nature, and the latter from the observation of life ? 

"Was not, likewise, the fundamental thought in the life of the 
Saviour of the world, " consider the lilies of the field, and the birds 
of the air, God clotheth and feedeth them ; how much more shall he 
not care for his children in all the occurrences of life"; and "I 
must be about my Father's business ? " — and are not both of these 
expressions founded on the thoughtful reception of Xatm-e and life ? 

But not only do Xature and life speak to man, but man also would 
willingly express the conjectures and sensations which are awakened 
in him by the speech of Xature and life, but for which he cannot find 
words. And these words should now be given to him according to 
the demand of his mental development, — the development of his 
inner sense. 

The relation of man to man is neither as external as some imagine, 
nor as easily communicable in its inwardness as others believe. It is 
indeed full of deep meaning and high significance; but its soft 
accords must be early fostered in the boy, but more indirectly than 
directly by words demanding subtle reasoning. The direct demand 
fetters, obstructs, deadens, ti-ains the boy, and makes of him a puppet. 
The indirect suggestion (for instance, in song without moralizing appli- 
cation) gives to the mind and will of the boy the inner freedom which 
is so necessary for his development and strengthening ; only here, again, 
the outer and inner life of the boy must be in accord with it, which 



is, of course, the first and inalienable requirement. The more rare 
and the more withdra^vn from observation this may be in life, the 
more should it be fostered where it is possible ; and even the instruc- 
tion which otherwise scarcely touches the life, the school otherwise 
separated from life, should foster it. 

Let us enter a schoolroom where at this moment such an instruc- 
tion, in this sense and spirit, is beginning. 

More than twelve lively boys of from six to nine years of age are 
collected, and know that to-day they will have the pleasure of singing 
something under the guidance of their teacher. 

The boys, placed in a row, await the beginning of this instruction, 
the " hour," as they call it. 

The teacher was accidentally absent in the afternoon. It is even- 
ing ; he comes in, and sings to them repeatedly. 




This good-evening, being sung to them unexpectedly, comes so 
close to their inner life that it fills them with pleasure, joy, and 

Xow the teacher says, " Shall I have no greeting ? " and sings to 
them again the " good-evening." 

Most of them answer in speech, "Good-evening"; some, "Many 
thanks " ; a few say in cadence, " Good-evening." 

The teacher now turns to these particularly, and says, " Sing good- 
evening to me." 

The first sings softly ; the second, jestingly ; the third, etc. 

The first. 

The second. 

The third. 



Others to whom he turns sing " good-evening " in the same tones 
as the teacher, or in similar ones. 

"Carl (the first) has sung ' good-evening ' to me; now sing it to 
me in concert as he sung it." 

They sing it. 

"George (the second) has sung 'good-evening' to me also; now 
sing this also to me in concert as he sung it." 



They sing it again. 

The teacher now continues to sing, giving a description of the 
weather : — 


out doors it is raw and cold. 

Is that true ? " he asks. ..." Well, then we will sing it together." 

(Teacher and scholar repeat it together.) 

The teacher now continues his description : — 


wind is blowing in the trees. 

" Is this also true ?"..." Then we will sing it also together." 

Now they sing the whole together. 

Now those only sing who most feel the truth of what has been 
said, and who best like to express it. 

The instruction goes on by means of song and antii^hony, holding 
fast the sensations awakened by the impressions of the season, and 
expressing them by describing the phenomena of Nature. 

Ear and voice will be developed at the same time by this instruc- 
tion; the sensation exj^ressed by word and tone will become clear. 
To-day the outward particulars are the same as yesterday ; therefore 
to-day also the instruction begins and continues as it did yesterday. 

Having sung the same several times, one of the boys said gayly, 
" ShaU we not soon have a little song about the sunshine ? " 

This question at once expressed naturally the inner wish of the 
boy, that after long-continuing rain, mist, and wind, the weather 
might be again serene and clear. 

The teacher takes up the sensation of the boy, and sings to him : — 






oh, bright, bright clear sunshine, come soon to us again. 

The boys joyously sing this in concert. 

This beginning of instruction is here communicated because it is 
by no means the most favorable. Raw, disagreeable autumn days, 
wet, cold evenings, do not call forth the inner life. 

The morning, the spring, a mornhig walk in spring, a rest on a 


hill, etc., would liave been more suited to arouse the inner life. Yet 
now certainly the boys who have by this instruction been filled with 
expectation, will so much the more joyfully welcome the first clear 
day which shows the surrounding country in soft, woolly, snowy 
garments, and a clear, serene starlight and moonlight evening ; and 
with so much the more fervor and feeling will they sing in the coming 
spring : — 

See, the sky's serene ; 

Bright flowers, and leaves so green, 

In field and hedge are seen. 

The green grass is gTowing, 
The blue sky is clear, 

And flowers are blowing, 
For spring-time is here. 

There are an abundance of judicious collections of songs and little 
poetical representations from which a teacher, living in his object, 
filled with and penetrated by it, can draw ; they are sufficiently well 
known, and will be more so by him who seeks to become familiar 
with them. 

If their representation and delineation, especially of the individual 
sensations and impressions, are not simple and short enough, a teacher 
who is only somewhat observant and thoughtful can easily translate 
the instantaneous sensations and feelings of the boys, as well as the 
impressions of Nature, into animated and descriptive words. 

There is also no lack of representations embracing the individual 
life of the boy ; for example : — 

We children while hopping are gay, 

As gay as the graceful doe ; 
But we learn as well as play, 

For boys to men will grow. 

So, also, the individual life of one or several boys ; for example : — 

Dear little doves, you are so sweet ; 
Come, and from my small hand eat. 

The animal world in general higher reference; for example: — 

Would you like a song to hear ? 

Listen to the humming bee. 
It hums and flies both far and near ; 

Its busy skill all like to see. 


Especially the relation of man to man; for example: — 

If a little bird were I, 
Had two little wings to fly, 

I would fly to thee ; 
Mother mine, oh, mother ! pray 
Stay no more away. 



When I'm with lively brothers, 
And loving sisters dear, 

I learn to be quite peaceful, 
And sing songs loud and clear. 

It is lovely to see 
That the kind brothers here, 
And the sisters so dear, 

Can in harmony be ; 
When hand clasped in hand 
Through the beautiful laud 

Of life the children stray, 
When all is bright, and all is light, 

To them upon their way. 

Referring to the inner life of the child and boy ; for example 


See through the land a gentle angel fly, 
No eye can see him ; he can all espy. 

Heaven is his home so dear, 

God sends him to us here. 
He goes from house to house, and each good child 
He finds with father dear, or mother mild, 

He loves, and stays with ever. 

And will desert it never. 


Oh, time of sweet joy, 

Pray never leave me, 
Thy gay, youthful dress 

Is so pleasant to see. 

I sleep without care 

While the moon shines bright ; 
I wake up with joy 

At the dawn of light. 


But it must not be forgotten, with this instruction (if it can be 
called instruction, since it is a representation of the child's own life), 
that it must proceed from the peculiar life of the scholar, and must 
sprout forth from it, like a bud or shoot. The experience or inner 
life must necessarily precede the words and tune given to the boy ; 
and this is especially the distinctive difference of this course of 
instruction from that which teaches children and boys little poems 
and songs, which, being only from without, neither awaken life, nor 
comprise and represent life. 

In general, all which was before said concerning the appropriation 
of religious expressions, especially in the beginning, is of equal value 

exercises in language proceeding from the contemplation 
of nature and the outside world. 

Section 93. 

The consideration of Xature and the outside world has the objects 
in view purely as such, according to their total impression and their 
general references, particularly their reference to space. The consid- 
eration of language as a means of representation is subordinated to 
this ; for man considers the objects for himself alone, and takes in 
their nature without speaking. But speech must come in as a help 
in giving instruction in order to prove, as well as possible, that the 
scholar has actually looked at, thought about, and comprehended the 

Now the language-exercises also proceed from the objects, it is 
true, but take them up with respect to their exterior and to the 
impressions which they make on the senses of man, and have in view 
pre-eminently the designation of them (which is conditioned in man, 
and demanded by him) by language. 

The consideration of Nature and the outside w^orld deals with the 
objects themselves ; the grammatical exercises deal predominantly 
W'ith the description of these objects by means of the audible material 
of language, and especially with the appropriation and use of this 
language as a means of description and representation, but still in 
inner union w4th the object itself. 

The consideration of Nature and the outside world asks, " What 


is that?" the grammatical exercise asks, "How is this denoted?" 
which last is language. 

As the consideration of Nature and the outside world only con- 
siders the object, so the grammatical exercises consider its effect upon 
man and on the senses of man, and the manner in which we correctly 
and properly designate by speech these impressions and perceptions. 

This immediately requires a third consideration, — the considera- 
tion of speech without any reference to the designated object, but 
merely as a product of man and of the use of his organs of speech. 
These exercises are the exercises in speech which are therefore again 
directly connected with, and proceed from, the grammatical exercises. 
The complete, fundamental knowledge and use of language, therefore, 
requires three things : — 

first the consideration of the objects of speech alone ; 

the consideration of the outer world ; 

then consideration of the speech and object together proceeding 
from the outer to the inner world ; 

viz., grammatical exercises ; 

finally, consideration of the speech alone, without respect to the 
object, merely as material ; 

viz., exercises in speech. 

The course of teaching of the consideration of the outer world 
was before intimated. 

The course of teaching of the grammatical exercises is as follows : — 

It proceeds, as above stated, from the perception of the outer 
world by the senses, and rises to the inner perception of it. 

The teacher begins : — 

" We are in a room ; there are several things about us here ; tell 
me some of these objects around us." 

" The mirror, the desk, the stove," etc. 

" Could several more objects be around us here in the room ? " 

" Yes." 

" Could as many objects be brought into the room as anybody 


"Why not?" 

" Because then there would not be enough room and space there." 

" Why would there not be space and place enough in the room for 
as many things as any one wished to bring into it?" 


" Because each thing takes its own room and place, its own space." 

"Prove and show this to me by something else." 

" Where ]ny hand is, my slate cannot also be. Or where I am and 

write, my neighbor cannot also be at the same time ; and I cannot be 

in his place at the same time with him. Or where the stove stands, 

the desk cainiot stand also at the same time." 

" Then what is meant by saying that each thing takes up its own 
space and place ? " 

"No other thing can be and act in the place where it is." 
" In what way, and by what means, do you perceive the action and 
activities of objects in their space ? " 
"By my hands, eyes, ears," etc. 

[We actually perceive the objects outside of ourselves only by 
taking in the nature of the things, by making it internal, that is, by 
receiving and experiencing it; therefore] "we call the organs by 
which this is done, eyes, ears, hands, and so on ; and the activities, 
hearing, seeing, and so on, the senses." 

" So we perceive and recognize outside objects by the senses." 
Questioning : " By what do we perceive and recognize? " etc. 
"Name the senses by which we perceive and recognize that the 
object acts, and does something." 

"Can it be said of each object and thing that it acts, and does 
something ? " 
" Yes. — No." 
"Why yes? — Why no?" 

" Name something that each of the objects around us does, and by 
which it is noticeable to you." 

" The inkstand stands. 
" The pen lies. 
" The mii-ror hangs. 
"The garment lies. 
" The stick leans. 
" The sun shines. 
" The scholar sits. 
" The canary-bird sings. 
"The clock goes. 
"The boy speaks. 
" The penknife cuts. 
" The compasses pierce. 
" The boot stamps." 


"Were all these objects perceived in the same way and by the 
same senses ? " 

"No, I see many of them ; I feel many of them," etc. 

" So we perceive many of these objects in their action principally 
by sight, many principally by feeling or touch." 

" Can I only feel and touch the activities and action of many 
things without seeing them ? " 

" Yes." 

" Name some objects and what they do, which can be principally 
perceived by touch, without recognizing them by any other activity 

and action." 

" The inkstand stands. 
" The slate lies. 
" The stick leans. 
" The garment lies." 

" Can I also perceive these objects in these activities by any other 
sense than touch ? " 

" Yes : by sight, by the eyes." 

" Seek out objects among those you know which actually stand." 

" The house stands. 
" The post stands. 
" The desk stands." 
[This should be repeated in concert, as before, then grouping the 
things, — the house, the post, the desk stands, all these objects stand.] 

" Find out objects of which one can say, they stand." 
" The water stands. 
" The sun stands. 
" The mill stands. 
" The column stands. 
« The blood stands 
" The pulse stands." 

" Name, among the objects which you know, those which lie, lean, 
hang, pierce, sit," etc. 

" Name objects of which one says, they lie, lean, hang, pierce, sit," 

" Have the just-named activities and effects of the objects any . 
thing in common ? " 


'' What do they show in common ? " 

" Inward activity without outward motion, or with outward rest." 

" Can you also remark in yourself, and in people in general, inward 
activity with outward rest or without outward motion ? " 

"Yes. " 

" The man rests, the man sleeps, the man wakes, the man dreams, 
the man reflects, the man thinks, the man feels," etc. 

"Kame objects which actiially rest, sleep, wake," etc. 

" Also objects which have an outward, and, at the same time, a 
continuously-advancing motion ; such as, going, running, racing, flow- 
ing, flying, striding, dancing, hopping, springing, swimming, riding, 
gliding, falling, sinking," etc. 

" Also objects which have outward and visible motion without 
continuous advance ; for instance, rolling like the waves, undulating, 
boiling, breathing, turning, blossoming, ripening." 

" Then objects which have outer and continuously-advancing, com- 
municatmg motion ; for example, pulling, rowing, raising, carrying, 

" Objects with separating activity ; such as, cutting, piercing, 
boring, breaking, planing, sawing, ripening, splitting," etc. 

" Objects with connecting activity ; for example, weavmg, binding, 
knitting, sewing, braiding," etc. 

" Objects with forming activity ; for example, sculpturing, painting, 
drawing, writing, forging," etc. 

" Objects whose activity can only be seen ; as, glittering, shinmg, 
shimmering, lighting, darkening," etc. 

" Objects whose activity can only be felt ; for example, warming, 
cooling, paining, delighting," etc. 

" Objects whose activity can only be heard ; for example, singing, 
piping, flute-playing; speaking, talking; laughing, shouting; crying, 
howling; whining, sobbing; groaning, rattling (in the throat) ; ringing, 
rustling, creaking, clapping," etc. 

" General activities of Natm-e ; for example, storming, blowing, 
raining, hailing, snowing, thundering, freezing," etc. 

"Objects with especial inward activity of the spirit; for example, 
loving, hating, praising." 

" Objects whose action is upon themselves ; for example, washing 
one's self, combing one's own hair, cutting one's self, dressing one's 
self, enjoying one's self, respecting one's self," etc. 

" Which of the activities named are proper to man exclusively ? " 


" What peculiarity have all the activities which are proper to man 
exclusively ? " 

" The inkstand stands. 
" The mirror hangs. 
" The pen lies." 

" By what are all these objects known to be in space ? and by what 
were the objects considered to be so ? " 

" By what they do, by their effect." 

" The inkstand stands before you. Does it make an impression on 
your senses in any other w^ay than by some kind of expression of its 
activity, its effect ? " 

" Yes : it is round ; it is leaden." 

" The i^en lies before you. Does it make any other impression on 
you than by an expression of its activity?" 

"Yes : it is long ; it is black." 

"Seek out objects which you notice, as you did the inkstand 
and the pen, on account of similar impressions, and mention the 


" The lead-pencil is long. 
" The slate-pencil is short. 
" The chair is brown. 
" The stove is large. 
" The flower-pot is small. 
" The slate is thick. 
" The rule is wooden. 
" The table is round." 
" The table is round. Seek out other objects that are round." 
" The inkstand is round ; the ball is round ; the pencil is round ; 
the target is round ; the hole is round." 

(Repeated in a twofold way, singly and in groups, as always.) 
" Are the pencil, the target, and the ball round in the same way ? " 
" Seek out objects which are circular." 
" Which are spherical." 
" AVhich are cylindrical." 
"Which are round like an egg." 
" Which are a long round in shape (oval)." 
"Which are oblong and straight-lined." 

" Which are three-cornered, four-cornered, many-cornered, hollow, 
pointed, beautiful, ugly." 

" How can all the just-mentioned impressions of objects be compre- 
hensively denoted ? " 


" As impressions of form and figure. " 

In the same way deal with wide, narrow ; thick, thin ; long, short ; 
high, low; small, large, etc., as impressions of size. 

So with single, double, treble, etc., as impressions of number. 

Then flat, smooth, rough, uneven, humped, scaly, granulous, sandy, 
splintering, as impressions of surface. 

So with wooden, stone, silver, hempen, flaxen, golden, etc., as 
impressions of the material. 

Then hard, soft, brittle ; solid, fluid, gaseous ; flexible, impressible, 
etc., as impressions of condition, of consistency. 

Then red, gTeen, yellow, blue; violet, orange; colored, variegated ; 
white, black, gray, spotted; glittering, shimmering, etc., as impres- 
sions of light and color. 

So with foul, muddy, spicy, as impressions of evaporation. 

Etc., etc. 

So with pure, wicked, decent, moral ; merry, surly, joyous ; endur- 
ing, economical, attentive ; docile, communicative, patient ; affectionate, 
childlike, friendly; roguish, courageous, sportive, etc., as impressions 
of behavior, of disposition, and of bias. 

The consideration of the outer world has already shown with pre- 
cision the germs to be developed for the entrance and introduction of 
natural philosophy and chemistry as independent studies. The gram- 
matical exercises, as proceeding from the consideration of the outer 
world, and especially of x^ature, come back to it by the perception of 
the activities and effects, the expressions and impressions, of objects, 
and the correct and comprehending designation of them by speech, 
so much the more precisely and indubitably as the seeking-out and 
taking-in of the limitations and causes of the activities and impres- 
sions proceeding from the effects of the powers and material of things, 
and referring to their nature, are exhaustively treated, and corre- 
spondingly designated by speech. The natural, philosophical, and 
chemical side of the consideration of N'ature, which is so important 
for each human being, finds later in the scholar a much greater and 
more' impressive sympathy, and is much more deeply rooted in him, if 
this instruction is exhaustively carried out. Therefore, on«account of 
the much too slight observation and cultivation of these sides of the 
consideration of the outward world and of language in connnon life, 
they must be especially considered in the course of instruction, as a 


preparation for natural science, natural philosophy and chemistry ; or 
else the future instruction in these branches of human knowledge 
floats in the air, or is at least not a living sprout of the tree of knowl- 
edge, as is so frequently the case with the relation to man of several 
subjects of knowledge, especially in natural science. And how cer- 
tainly many w^hose eyes and senses were not awakened to them in 
boyhood, and who, notwithstanding, employed themselves later with 
these natural sciences, could demonstrate this fact in their own experi- 
ence if they would confess the truth ! On account of the importance 
of what has been here indicated — since the boy is by this means not 
only placed in the centre of his outside environment, w^hile he recog- 
nizes the objects themselves in the most manifold references to each 
other and to man, and thereby finds that not only himself, but his 
inner cultivation of mind, word, and conception, come into harmony 
with the w^orld of Nature, — this subject of instruction is carried 
out into such minute details. The knowledge of number, form, and 
size, the knowledge of space in its totality, also sprouts from this; 
and the germinating points are clearly shown in what has been pre- 
viously said. For the knowledge of number, form, and size, if it is 
later to exert an active, fruitful influence on life as a general knowl- 
edge of space, must necessarily exert a reflex influence upon it, — must 
proceed from the observation and consideration of the phenomena of 
space, and the relations of the actual surroundings. 

We go on in the course of teaching. 
" You said before : the tree is leafy ; 

the bush is thorny ; 
the glass is cracked ; 
the cloth is perforated ; 
can you mark this impression of 'the tree, bush, glass, cloth, by any 

other language ? " 

" The tree has leaves ; 
" the bush has thorns ; 
" the glass has cracks." 

" Seek out other objects with which similar things take place." 
" Man has hands ; 
" the hands have fingers ; 
" the fingers have joints ; 
" the finger-tips have nails ; 


" the fish have scales ; 
" the goose has feathers ; 
" the hedgehog has spmes ; 
"the tree has leaves." 
" Seek out all the objects which have skin, all which have scales, 
which have feathers, which have spines, which have leaves," etc. 
" The tree has leaves ; 
" the book has leaves ; 
" the flower has leaves ; " etc. 
Now to look at and comprehend the objects with reference to the 
space which each fills. 

" The tree has leaves ; where has it leaves ? " 
" On the branches, on the twigs." 
" The flowers have leaves ; where have they leaves? " 
"On the calyx, in the calyx, with the calyx." 
"Seek out objects which are on one another." 
" The ears are on the head," etc. 
"Seek out objects which rest upon another." 
" The blackboard hangs on the wall." 

In the same way the objects are considered and pointed out in 
regard to the other references of space-filling, and, first of all, in rest- 
ing activity ; for example : — 

The book stands in the bookcase ; 
the music lies upon the piano ; 
the bird flies over the house ; 
the cat creeps under the table ; 
the ball sticks fast between the bushes ; 
the scholar sits near the teacher. 
As many perceptions as possible are to be sought out for all these 
by the scholars. 

Xow objects are sought out which in space-filling, continuously- 
advancing activity are incumbent upon one another ; for example : 
The boy looks at the slate ; 
the teacher comes into the school ; 
the bird flies on the twig ; 
the sparrow creeps under the roof ; 
the girl walks beside the mother. 


Finally comparing the two : — 

The coat hangs on the wall ; 

the coat is hung on the wall ; 

the book lies in the bookcase ; 

the book is laid in the bookcase. 
As hitherto the objects were recognized and perceived in definite 
relations of space to one another, so now come perception, compre- 
hension, and designation of these objects in indefinite, general rela- 
tions of space, as above, below, inside, outside, etc. 

Further indications for the course of instruction on this subject 
cannot be given here, as the space destined for it is akeady exceeded. 
It should be added that this course of instruction, according to a law 
contained in itself, comprises all the relations and references to be 
indicated by language, advancing from the simple to the compound, 
and, lastly, it concludes with a comprehensive, descriptive, narrative, 
etc., representation of actual j)henomena of the- outer world. 


exercise in and for outavard corporeal representations in 
space, advancing according to rule and law from the 
simple to the compound. 

Section 94. 

Man not only develops and cultivates himself toward the attain- 
ment of his destination and his calling by that which he receives from 
without, even in boyhood, but as much (and, if it be weighed and 
measured, predominantly more) by that which he unfolds and repre- 
sents from himself. 

Experience and history also teach that the men who have most 
truly and impressively promoted genuine human welfare have done so 
far more by what they have represented from themselves than by what 
they have received into themselves. For as every one knows that we, 
by genuine and true teaching, advance in knowledge and insight, so also 
every one knows, and even Xature teaches each, that the use of power 
not only arouses, but heightens and increases, the power ; and so the 
receiving and grasping the thing in life and action is far more unfold- 
ing, improving, and strengthening than the mere reception of it in 
w^ord and idea. So, also, is the forming with and by means of matter 


in life and action (connected with thought and word), of far greater 
value for the development and improvement of man than the repre- 
sentation by idea and word without formation. So this subject of 
instruction necessarily follows the just-treated subjects of the contem- 
plation of the outside world and the language-exercises. 

The life and impulses of the boy have actually but one aim, that of 
outwardly representing his personality ; indeed, his life actually con- 
sists only in an outward representation of his inner nature, his power, 
especially with material and by means of material. 

In that which the boy forms, he sees not outward forms which will 
penetrate into him, but he sees in them the laws and activities of his 
spirit, which thus express themselves to him ; for the destination of 
teaching and instructing is more and more to bring out /row man than 
to put into him, because that which can be put into man we already 
know, and it is already an attribute of humanity; and because, also, 
it is necessary for each one, just because he is a human being, to 
unfold and develop according to the laws of humanity : but what 
comes out of humanity, what the natm'e of humanity will yet develop, 
that we do not yet know, that is not yet an attribute of the human 
race ; and, notwithstanding, the human nature, like the spii-it of God, 
is constantly unfolding from itself. 

Enlightening as this view of the subject might and should be to us 
from the consideration of our ovra lives and those of others, if we are 
only upright toward ourselves, and clear in perception and compre- 
hension of the causes of that which is, yet we, even the best among 
us, are already so plastered over with outwardly-received prejudices 
and opinions (like the plants by the spring stoned round wdth lime- 
stone), that only with the greatest exertion and self-constraint do we 
give a hearing to this better view, and even then only in very slight 
measure. For let us at least confess, that, when we speak of the 
development and cultivation of our children^ we actually should 
speak of the swathing and binding of them ; indeed, we should not 
at all speak of a training which coheres with development of the 
spiritual, of the desire and will in man, but of a stamping and mould- 
ing, however proudly we all believe ourselves long since freed from 
this spirit-deadening view. And exceedingly anxious, therefore, must 
be those to whom we yield our children, oar sons, for education, since 
we ourselves are thoroughly unable to educate them. 

What shall these educators do ? 

Jesus, whom we all recognize as our greatest exemplar, from a con- 


viction which is wholly one with our innermost being, says, " Suffer 
the children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven." And is not this as much as to say, " Do not for- 
bid them, for there works at least-in them unbrokenly the life given 
them by their heavenly Father, and a free unfolding of this life is as 
yet not grudged to them ? " And do we not recognize in this, as in 
all the expressions of Jesus, the voice of God ? Now to whom shall 
the educators listen, — to God, or to us men? 

And could they do so, whom should they cheat, — God, or men ? 
God they could not cheat, and men they ought not to cheat ; therefore 
they should obey God more than us men, and should state that they 
will and should obey God more than men; therefore they should 
rather give no education at all than a wrong and distorted one. 
For God, not prejudiced men, gave to genuine educators their voca- 
tion ; for only in the all-sided development of man and of his spirit- 
ual power in accordance with the laws of Natm-e and reason lies the 
welfare of man and of humanity, and every other course of develop- 
ment of the human race exerts an obstructive influence on the develop- 
ment of humanity. 

Our domestic and family education is most superficial and inco- 
herent just in reference to all-sided development of oui'selves in out- 
ward, visible works, by outward creating and doing, in accordance 
with the laws of reason and of Xature ; therefore our family education 
above all requires schooling, that is, a starting-point, and a progress 
conforming to the laws of nature and reason. 

The outward representation of the spiritual in man, in and by 
means of material, must now begin by his spiritualizing that which is 
corporeal and in space ; by his giving to it life and spiritual reference 
and significance. 

This course of development also expresses itself in that of the 
human race. The corporeal in space, with which the developing and 
forming representation of the spiritual in man is to be connected, 
must necessarily in outward form already bear within itself, and 
express, the law and conditions of inner development ; this is the 
rectangular, the cubical, the beam-shaped, and brick-shaped. 

The formations which this material conditions are either out- 
wardly piling (building) or inwardly developing (forming). 

The building, or piling-up, is with the child, as with the develop- 
ment of the human race, and as with the fixed forms in Nature, the 


The importance of the vertical, horizontal, and rectangular, is the 
first experience of the boy who represents himself outwardly by solids ; 
equilibrium and symmetry follow ; so he rises from the simplest wall, 
without and with connection, to the nipre compound works, and even 
to the discovery of every architectural form which is possible with 
the material given to him. The tabular and wainscot-like building, 
which is actually only placing the blocks by one another, and side by 
side, in a plane, has far less charm for the boys than placing them on 
and over one another, — a clear proof of the all-sided striving of the 
human spirit ah'eady expressing itself in the boy, and making itself 
known in his activities. 

The linear grouping seems to come in later. So, therefore, the 
course of development and formation of man is one which makes finer 
and finer the corporeality, and spiritualizes it ; in the place of actual 
connections of sticks comes in the drawing ; in the place of the super- 
ficies, the painting, the color; in the place of the corporeal piling-up 
of cubes, the corporeal developing from cubical fundamental forms, 
that is, the actual moulding and forming. 

Without considering this general course of training of man, which 
easily catches the eye, which continues to actively develop, which con- 
stantly advances from the outward and corporeal to the inward and 
spiritual, and which is always pointed out by God and iN'ature, we 
can nevertheless question of what use will these exercises be to my 

And, nevertheless, we should not have reached the standpoint of 
total cultivation at which we now find ourselves, if a quietly-overruling 
Providence had not led us just this way, either without om' knowl- 
edge, or by our own perseverance in all the efforts and strivings of 

And man is indeed to repeat the works of humanity, at least in 
himself, that they may not be to him empty and dead, that his opinion 
concerning them may not be outward and spiritless ; just as he is to 
traverse within himself the paths of humanity that he may learn to 
understand them and himself. And yet we say of the activity which 
is here being conferred upon the boy, which is determined by spirit 
and law for a conscious aim, — This my son does not need. 

Perhaps not; it may be ; it may not be. I do not know; but this 
I know, that your son needs power of action, activity, judgment, 
endurance, reflection, etc. And all this he learns, and far more he 
gains ; for inactivity, ennui, want of knowledge of what one is to do, 


or at the best, stupefaction, are the most fearful of all the banes of 
childhood and boyhood; but the opj^osite qualities are a universal 
means of spiritual and bodily health, of all domestic and civil weKare. 

The course of teaching determines itself, as it does everj^vhere, 
when the true starting-point is found and impressed on the subject of 
instruction, and the purpose is comprehended. 

The best material for building representations is, at the beginning, 
a number of wooden blocks whose front surface is always one square 
inch, and whose length increases by inches from one to twelve. 

If, now, twelve pieces of each length are taken, two kinds of 
lengths, — one and eleven, or two and ten, etc., — form a tablet of one 
square foot in surface, and one inch in thickness, so that all the blocks 
taken together with some larger pieces amount to a layer of more 
than half a cubic foot. It is best to keep them in a box whose inner 
space is exactly the just-named size. 

In the instruction such a building-box is used in various ways, 
w^hich develop at the same time with the development of the boy. 

The next material is, — blocks in reduced relation to the build- 
ing-bricks, so that eight pieces make up a cubic foot on a smaller 
scale, therefore in the proportion of two inches to an actual foot in 
length. As, with the building-blocks before defined, there were an 
equal number of each kind and length, so here, on the contrary, there 
are a great preponderance of the brick-like blocks, at least five hun- 
dred pieces ; the others from two to six fold length being always pro- 
portionately smaller ; so also of one-half fold length. In like manner 
the blocks are also distinguished as one, two, three, etc., lengths. 

The first requisition now is, that the boys learn to distinguish, 
name, and group the building-material according to its size ; and 
during the building it is always kept apart, and arranged according 
to size. The second is, that what has been done is to be each time 
connected with exactly defining words spoken aloud : for example, I 
have an alternately-connected (each brick covering the joining of the 
two below^) vertical wall with perpendicular ends, one door-opening, 
and two symmetrically-divided window-openings. 

From one wall the advance is to a simple, rectangular, many-sided 
building with only one door; then it increases in size and in the 
number of the doors and windows ; lastly with division-walls and 
room-like parts from a one-storied to a two-storied building, etc. 


The wainscot-like buildings are similar, yet in many respects more 

The linear formations of sticks from at least one inch to five inches 
in length allows a yet greater diversity of application for writing, for 
drawing, for building. 

The forms made from paper and cardboard have each their pecu- 
liar sphere of formation and course of progress. 

Still more forming and developing (but also only for those already 
provided with a certain degree of mental power) is the moulding 
from plastic, soft masses according to the laws given by the cubical 
form ; but this, as well as the free modelling from the same material, 
belongs more to the following later stage of boyhood. 

drawing in net according to outward necessary laws. 
Section 95. 

The vertical and breast-line of man, the vertical and horizontal 
(though we are so little conscious of it, and still less take it into 
account) form the connecting link for the perception and comprehen- 
sion of each form. 

AVhen we comprehend forms, we refer all to these lines, and in 
thought, though still unconsciously, draw these directions outside of 
ourselves, especially in the visual plane ; our power of seeing and 
thinking also repeats this act ; and, when this is done, there results a 
network which enters into our consciousness, the more strictly and 
sharply we give an account to ourselves of the forms of what we view. 

But because, now^, the inner spiritual efficiency makes itself known 
in many ways in the form, and in that which is conditioned by it ; 
and because the recognition of this inner spiritual efficiency belongs 
to the destination of man, since he by means of it recognizes himself, 
his relation to his surroundmg, and thus the essence and being as 
such — so also the development not only belongs to the comprehen- 
sion, but is also essential to the education, of man, especially for 
the representation of form ; is an essential part of the education of 
man, of instruction ; and (since the attainment to consciousness of 
the form rises with the attainment to consciousness of the rectangular 
references) the outward representation of the rectangular is, for the 


human being to be educated, a means of development to the compre- 
hension and representation of forms and figures, grounded in the 
nature of man and of the subject of instruction. 

If, now, the vertical and horizontal are repeated in equal propor- 
tion in both directions, the result is a network formed merely of 
squares of equal size. But, by the square as a connecting form, the 
representation in the visual plane, as well as especially the enlarged 
and diminished representation, is most easily possible ; a fact which, 
if it were needed, would yet more justify the use of the square. 

The use of the triangle as a means of perception and representa- 
tion proceeds from the square and rectangle, as is shown by the fur- 
ther course of the instruction. 

With the use of the square the degree of inclination is determined 
by measurable relation, the sides of the square forming, as it were, the 
supports to the oblique line ; but with the use of the triangle the 
degree of the inclination is directly determined by the measm^able 
relation to the right inclination. 

As both find their application, both should be used in the instruc- 
tion; but the latter should be used later, as a higher stage of the 
development of power. 

The second necessary requisition of this instruction is the easy 
representation and equally easy destruction of the comprehended and 
represented form. This requisition is best met by the slate and slate- 
pencil. Therefore a slate with a grooved net formed of equal squares 
is the first requirement of this instruction. 

But, as the progress of the instruction shows, the size of the 
squares, or the distance between the parallel lines, is by no means 
indifferent. For, if the distances are too small, all the representations 
determined by them will be too insignificant : if the distances are too 
large, the representations will be too extended for the power of sur- 
vey of the scholar at this age. The best distance is that of a quarter 
of an inch. 

The first occupation of this instruction is to exercise the scholar 
on this squared slate for the accurate representation and comprehen- 
sion of the most essential fundamental relations of form, and the rela- 
tions of size which they condition. 

The course of teaching is connected with the former perceptions of 
solids gained in building ; for there the boy learned to know one-fold, 
two-fold, three-fold, etc., lengths by the instruction for corporeal rep- 
resentations in space, of which we have just treated. 


Thus, then, this instruction, as its a^^plication will especially show, 
is connected with what has been already stated, that there shall be no 
gap in the instruction, that nowhere in the instruction shall any thing 
stand detached and isolated, but that all, like life itself, shall be a 
living, coherent whole united by cause and effect. 

The course of instruction is as follows : 

The teacher draws, in a grooved side of one of the net-squares, a 
vertical line of the w^hole length of the side, and says, while drawing 
it, " I draw a vertical line." 

After he has drawn the line, he says to the scholar, " What have I 
done ? " 

The scholar gives in answer the words before spoken by the 
teacher, " Drawn a vertical line." 

" Now draw in the same manner, along the slate, vertical lines of a 
single length." 

If this is done, and the lines are drawn to the satisfaction of the 
teacher, he says to the scholar, '^ What have you done ? " 

" I have drawn several vertical Imes," answers the scholar. 

If several scholars begin this instruction at the same time (which 
is advisable), after the work of each has been examined, the scholars 
answer collectively to the question asked of all, "What have you 
done ? " " We have drawn," etc. 

On account of their many-sided and declared utility, it is a stand- 
ing direction that these questions and answers should be employed 
with this subject of instruction also ; for man must bring that which 
is represented to word and thought, and the thought and word to rep- 
resentation ; as he becomes man through this mode of action essen- 

Continuing the instruction, the teacher now draws a vertical line 
of the length of two squares, and says, "I draw a vertical line," and 
asks again, " What have I done ? " 

" Drawn a vertical line." 

" Is this vertical line like the others ?" 

"No : it is twice as long as the other lines." 

" What can we call this vertical line in comparison with the former 
lines, in respect to length ? What must we name them in order to 
distinguish them? " 

" Vertical lines of two-fold length." 


"Now what must we call the vertical lines you drew before, in 
respect to length, compared with the line I have just drawn? " 

"Vertical lines of one length." 

" Draw a row of vertical lines of two-fold length." 

After it is done, the teacher says, as before, " What have you 
done ? " 

And the scholars answer, " We have," etc. 

In the same way the teacher draws lines of three, four, and five 
fold length ; and the scholars do as he has done, and point it out by 

The scholars, by drawing the lines themselves on the net-lines, 
greatly develop and strengthen their skill of hand, and power of com- 
prehension and representation, and make clear their increasing power. 

As comparison with M'hat is unlike is more important for the com- 
prehension and retention of each thing than with that which is like, all 
the vertical lines hitherto drawn are to be placed side by side in their 
different lengths. The teacher does this while saying, "I draw a ver- 
tical line of single length, of two-fold, three-fold, four-fold, and five- 
fold lengths. What have I done? " 

The scholars answer, as usual. 

The teacher makes the five vertical lines again while he says, com- 
prising them all in one clause, " I draw vertical lines of from one to 
five fold lengths side by side." 

Question and answer, as usual. 

"Now draw vertical lines of from one to five fold lengths." 
" Have you done it ? " " What have you done ? " 

The instruction only goes up to a five-fold variety, because, in the 
numbers up to five, all later numerical relations are already given, at 
least announced ; they are in fact already announced in the first three 
numbers, as these numbers include even and odd, prime, square, and 
cubical numbers ; yet these relations are almost all repeated in the 
series of numbers up to five, and become thus sufficiently clear for 
this representing pitrpose; since the six is only a two-fold three, and 
a three-fold two ; but the seven is, in this respect, equivalent to the 
five ; therefore this and all the following similar representing exercises 
only go up to five. 

AVith this placing of the lines side by side for the pui-pose of com- 
parison, the teacher can employ also several little differences in the 
manner of representation to meet the need of the scholar, if the latter 
is still weak in comprehension and representation. The five lines 


may increase in length downward, so that their upper ends touch one 
horizontal line ; or they can increase upward, so that the lower ends 
touch one horizontal line ; or the lines which have here been drawn 
increasing may now be drawn, in both cases, decreasing; that is, of 
from five-fold to one-fold length. These alterations are in the begin- 
ning very useful (especially when one thing is to be practised under 
several forms) in order not to weary the scholars ; however, their use is 
justly left to the examining teacher. 

The course with the vertical lines is now repeated with the hori- 
zontal lines. 

Hitherto the lines were not combined, and only lines of like kind 
— vertical with vertical, and horizontal with horizontal lines — were 
compared wdth respect to position. The more important step now 
following is to represent vertical lines in comparison with horizontal, 
and vice versa. In order to make this comparison most perceptible 
and impressive, the two kinds of lines nuist be combined with one 
another in a point. 

The teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point a vertical 
and a horizontal line, both of which are of equal length, and each of 
one-fold length. What have I done? " 

" Do the same." 

" What have you done ? " 

" Do the same on one of the long rows of your slate." 

The teacher continues speaking, drawing at the same time, " I 
combine in one point a vertical and a horizontal line of equal length, 
each line being of two-fold length." 

In the same way each line is to be of three-fold, then four-fold, and 
lastly five-fold length. 

The scholars do the same, and each time point out by words what 
they have done. 

Here also the comparison must again take place ; therefore the 
teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point each time a vertical 
and a horizontal line, both of which are of equal length, and each line 
of one-fold, two-fold, three-fold, four-fold, and five-fold length, and 
draw them one within another." 

The scholars say and do the same, as usual. 

The comparison of the lines drawn one within another, as was 
before the case with the comparison of the vertical and horizontal 
lines of different lengths, can also take place in four different direc- 
tions ; namely thus, |, thus ] , thus 1, and thus j ; but the two 



connected lines of five-fold length afford the clearest comparison, on 
account of the enclosing, as the following shows. 




In this latter drawing, vertical and horizontal lines of equal leng-th 
were compared with one another ; vertical and horizontal lines of 
different lengths must now be compared with one another in the same 

First where the horizontal line is twice as long as the vertical. 

The teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point a vertical 
and a horizontal line, the horizontal line twice as long as the vertical, 
the vertical line of one-fold length ; therefore the horizontal of ? " — 
" Two times one-fold length." 

[On account of the continued development of the instruction, it is 
not advisable to say " of two-fold," instead of saying, " of two times 
one-fold length."] 

The result is | . 

The scholars repeat, and draw the same as the teacher, and denote 
by words what they have represented, as usual. 

Now, vertical and horizontal lines are combined, the horizontal 
being always twice as long as the vertical, but the vertical of tivo-io\d, 
the horizontal, therefore, of two times two-ioldi length ; or the vertical 
of three-io\di, therefore the horizontal of two times three-ioldi ; or the 
vertical of /our-fold, therefore the horizontal of two times /owr-fold ; 
or, lastly, the vertical of /re-fold, therefore the horizontal of two times 
Jive-ioXA. length. Finally, all single representations are again drawn 
one within another, for comparison, as before. 

Secondly, the horizontal line three times as long as the vertical. 

As in the preceding forms the horizontal line was always drawn 
twice as long as the vertical, so now the horizontal line is drawn th-ee 
times as long as the vertical ; therefore, if the vertical line is of one- 
fold length, the horizontal is of three times owe-fold ; if the vertical 
line is of two-fold length, the horizontal is of three times two-iolA, etc. ; 
the horizontal line determined by the vertical being of three times 
three-fold, three times /ot/r-f old, and three times j^ref old length. Lastly, 


all the products are again drawn one witliin another, and, for the 
purpose of comparison, the vertical lines are here always three squares 
apart, as with the two-fold length of the horizontal lines they are two 
squares, and with four and five fold length of the horizontal lines 
always four and Jive squares apart, as the following exercises require. 
As has been already said, the horizontal lines, in comparison with the 
vertical, do not go beyond the^rs-fold length. 

That greater skill, especially in grasping the relations, may be 
attained, these exercises may be carried on in such a way that, as in 
the preceding exercises the horizontal line was compared with the 
vertical, the vertical is now compared with the horizontal. Here the 
horizontal line is drawn first, and then the vertical, and the expression 
in words is suited to this reverse manner of origination, the vertical 
line being here considered as a part of the horizontal, as the horizontal 
was before considered as a multiple of the vertical. This difference is 
important, by no means on account of the number, which here lies 
wholly beyond consideration, but merely on account of the manner of 
origination, which is essential with pictorial representations. 

In the preceding exercises the horizontal line is always a multiple 
of the vertical, or, in other words, it is longer than the vertical ; but 
now the vertical line must be drawn longer than the horizontal ; that 
is, the horizontal line must be represented as a part of the vertical. 

The teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point a vertical 
and a horizontal line; the horizontal line being one-AaZ/'as long as the 
vertical, the vertical line of two times one-fold length, therefore the 
horizontal of ? " — " One-fold length." 

The result is I . 

Now the vertical line of twice two-fold, therefore the horizontal 
line of tico-io\<\. length ; the vertical line of twice three-fold, therefore 
the horizontal line of three-io\(\. length; the vertical line of twice four- 
fold, therefore the horizontal line of/owr-fold length; the vertical line 
of twice five-fold, therefore the horizontal line of ^ye-fold length. 

As in the preceding exercises the horizontal line was always drawn 
one-haK the length of the vertical, so now it is drawn one-third the 
length of the vertical, when the vertical line is of three times one, 
three times two, three times three, four, and five fold length. 

The same course is pursued when the horizontal line is drawn one- 
fom'th and one-fifth of the vertical. 

If it is desired that the scholar, when drawing, \dew the vertical 


line rather as a multiple of the horizontal, the origination of the 
product is reversed, the horizontal line becoming the measure of the 

These reversals are at times important for the development of the 
hand and eye. 

These exercises have a multifarious effect upon the pupil ; namely, 

perception and comprehension of the form ; 

development of the eye and hand for representation ; and 

development and confirmation by this representation of one and 
the same product in different ways ; complete unity and readiness of 
eye and hand in the comprehension and representation of each form. 

The products of the activity of the scholars at this stage of instruc- 
tion have been right angles, the sides of which were either equal, and 
each from one to five fold length ; or the sides were unequal, and 
either the horizontal was one, two, three, four, or five times the length 
of the vertical, which was at each time of from one to five fold length; 
or the vertical side was from two to five times as long as the horizontal, 
which was each time of from one to five fold length. 

These products, combined with one another in opposite positions, 
and enclosing space, give rectangles, and, first of all, squares, to the 
representation and drawing of which the instruction now advances. 

The teacher draws, and says, '' I draw a square, each side of one- 
fold length." 

The scholars repeat, represent, and denote by word, as usual. 

Now the representation goes, from drawing squares each side of 
which is of two-fold length, up to squares the sides of which are each 
of five-fold length. Lastly, comparing representation, and drawing of 
them one within another. 

Now comes drawing and representation of oblongs, which are at 
first twice as long as wide , the M'idth of from one to five fold length ; 
therefore the length of two times one, two, three, foui-, and five fold 

Next, oblongs three, four, and five times as long as they are wide ; 
the width in each case being again of from one to five fold length. 

The high quadrangles are carried through in the same way that 
the long quadrangles have been. 

Now comes comparing connection of the long and of the high 
quadrangles in' each relation of size. 

This connection can be extended or contracted according to the 
scholar's stage of development, as is also the case with all the earlier 
and later exercises. 


The exercises hitherto have had in view principally, the training of 
the eye ; those now following have in view the training of both eye 
and hand ; and the later exercises, of the hand alone. 

The series of exercises now following represent the sequence of 
squares and rectangles just demonstrated ; and here again the long 
and high quadrangles, but, at the same time, with the diagonals 
drawn within, and either to the right or left, or to both. 

The object of the exercise is that the scholar may precisely com- 
prehend and definitely represent the inclination of each line. 

This precise comprehension and definite representation of the 
length and inclination of the lines, as they either actually are, or as 
they appear on the visiial plane (in which, indeed, lies the greatest 
outward power of satisfactory pictorial representations), we now 
attempt to develop still more by the following exercises. 

If the previous exercises have been carried through with all the 
squares and rectangles (long and high quadrangles), they will also be 
again grouped for comparison, so that one corner of all the rectangles 
to be compared coincides in a single point, and two sides of the rect- 
angles always coincide ; from the common end-point of all the rect- 
angles the comparing diagonals are now drawn. From the drawing, 
and the comparing view of these diagonals, compared'with each other 
and with the rectangles in which they were drawn, now proceed the 
general perceptions : 

that the oblique lines collectively (except one) approach more 
nearly either the horizontal or the vertical ; 

that the oblique lines approach the more nearly to one of the right 
lines, the riiore often the one short side of the rectangle is contained in 
the other ; or that the oblique lines are the less oblique, the smaller the 
one side of the rectangle is in comparison with the other ; 

therefore that the obliquity of the lines depends upon the relations 
of the two right lines which are, as it were, the supports of the 
oblique ; the smaller right line, or support of the oblique, is, in the 
present case, either one-half, or one-third, or one-fourth, or one-fifth of 
the larger right line or support. 

The inclination or obliquity of the oblique lines is now defined by 
these recognized relations as half-oblique, third-oblique, fourth-oblique 
and fifth-oblique lines. 

The oblique lines which more nearly approach the horizontal line 
may be still further distinguished as lying; and those which more 
nearly approach the vertical, as standing lines. 


The middle lines beUveen the tv.o i-ight lines which incline toward 
neither, or whose supports are equal, are called whole oblique lines. 

As the clear and quick comprehension and ready representation of 
the relations of length and breadth of the rectangles w-as so indispen- 
sably necessary to the comprehension of these inclinations of the 
lines, so, again, the clear and quick comprehension and sure repre- 
sentation of the inclination or slant, and of the length, of the oblique 
lines, are highly important for the drawing practice. 

Therefore the oblique lines are now made without previously- 
drawn limiting quadrangles, and (which explains itself) each kind of 
the oblique lines is again drawn as oblique lines of one-fold length 
(when the shorter side of the I'ectangle is the length of one side of the 
square of the net), as oblique lines of two-fold length (when the 
shorter side of the rectangle is twice the length of one side of such a 
square), etc., up to oblique lines of five-fold length (when the shorter 
side of the measuring rectangle is five times the length of one side of 
a square of the net) . 

At the end of this series the oblique lines of from one to five fold 
length are again draAvn side by side for comparison, as was the case in 
the beginning with the right lines. 

The drawing and representation of the ichole oblique lines begins 
the series of these exercises. Therefore the teacher draws, and says, — 

"I draw a wHole oblique line of one-fold length." 


" Do the same." 

" Denote it by words." 

"Proceed in the same manner with whole oblique lines of from 
two to five fold lengths." 

Xow whole oblique lines of from one to five fold lengths are 
drawn side by side, and either right-slanting (that is, drawn toward 
the right side) or left-slanting (drawn toward the left side), and, in 
both cases, either from or toward the one who is drawing. The 
attention can even now be directed to the different origination of one 
and the same oblique line (first of all whether it is drawn toward or 
from the one w^ho is drawing), and the exercise of such drawing can, 
even here, be taken up, foreshadowing its later introduction in its 
whole consideration and execution. 

The half-oblique, the third, fourth, and fifth oblique, the It/ing as well 
as the standing lines, are carried through in the same way. 

As before, oblique lines of like position and inclination were com- 


pared with one another in respect to size and length, so, now, oblique 
lines of different inclinations are compared, at first only lying; and 
here again, first of all, they are all of one-fold, then all of two, three, 
four, and five fold length ; then standing, and here also beginning with 
one-fold, and advancing to five-fold length. 

Xow standing and Is'ing oblique lines are compared with one 
another, with the right lines, and the whole oblique lines, at the same 
time ; and here, again, first on one, then on two, and at last on four 
sides, each line being lastly of five-fold length. 

The result is at last oblique lines in all the degrees of obliquity 
and inclination hitherto used ; each line of five-fold length ; and all 
running out from the middle, like rays. 

As here all the oblique lines are drawn radiating from a middle, 
they must also, to exhaust the whole, be drawn rimning toioard one 
another around a middle. 

By the totality of what has been hitherto given, the scholar is now 
enabled to draw readily, in the net, each right and oblique line of 
each inclination and in each position used, running to and from each 
other ; and consequently the preliminary exercises in which the 
scholar drew lines according to precise outward law, and thus devel- 
oped in himself the comprehension and representation of the lines in 
active union, are ended. 

The last results (the radiating and encircling), which are distin- 
guished from each of the former ones by grouping and representing 
in themselves all the former exercises, also point out the end of these. 
This concluding grouping of representation comes before the eyes of 
the scholars, and the teacher connects his questions with it. 

" Do these representations which you have drawn make any other 
impression on you than the former ones ? " 

'' Yes." 

" In what does this impression consist ? " 

All the scholars will in their answers, in whatever way, always 
return to and concur in the statement, that in both representations all 
the lines refer to and from a middle on all sides, and that this uniting 
middle unites lines opposite to each other, yet like in inclination; of 
different lengths, yet the opposite of the same length ; that therefore 
these lines represent a whole, concluded in itself. 

The teacher gives the name '■^figure " to this wliole. 

Some of the scholars also will immediately say that the lines last 
drawn /roTw and toward a middle, or around a middle, in contrast to 
the earlier ones, represent di, figure. 


The teacher now develops with the scholars the properties and 
nature of a whole, a figure, as that which is composed of parts (here 
lines) which are relatively opposite to, yet like, one another, proceed- 
ing from a visible middle (as with the radiate form), or from an invis- 
ible middle (as with the encircling form), and combined to a unity, 
therefore necessarily symmetrically combined. 

This conception of a whole (here of the figure) is multifariously 
viewed in, and demonstrated by, the two last products, and should be 
frequently discussed, that complete clearness of mind and word may 
be attained. 

From this point there now comes in a quite new stage of instruction 
in drawing, which at the same time points out a new stage of the devel- 
opment of the scholar ; that of the spontaneous representation of 
line-wholes from each individual kind of lines before practised, or 
from several connected, limited by the determination of the net, 
— the invention of figures. 

Each spontaneous representation of the inner in and by the outer, 
which is done in accordance with limitations outwardly given indeed, 
but, as the scholar easily recognizes, necessarily proceeding from the 
inner, is called invention. 

The production of the course of teaching for the invention of 
figures is reserved for the representation of the next stage of scholar- 
ship ; and, in general, the representation of the many-sided, develop- 
ing, comprehensive nature of this course of instruction, must be 
deferred to the end of the demonstration of the whole instruction in 
drawing, in order not to interfere with the true culture of man. 

He alone who has not only applied it to and with others, but also 
especially to himself, can truly judge of the effect and character of 
this course of instruction, as is in general the case with all instruction 
which, with insight, aims at the awakening of powers and life, and at 
dexterity and certainty of representation. 

These indications will suffice for this self-appropriation of this 
course of instruction, at least in what is most essential for self-develop- 
ment and the development of others, especially for him who follows 
it from stage to stage, doing and representing it himself, and so finds 
in himself its silently-ruling, simple law. 

Tlie employment of this instruction would fill one of the greatest 
gaps in our country and city schools, and should therefore be lacking in 
none, which fact clearly shows itself to every investigating and clear- 
sighted person, since this instruction makes a demand upon the senses, 


and through these upon the thinkiug power, and so makes the scliolar 
intellectually, and, by his manual dexterity, outwardly, corporeally, 
and uniformly active, and thus removes the extremely harmful emmi 
and idleness, and the injury thereby resulting, from the scholar on 
whom the teacher cannot at the moment bestow his attention. This 
is essential for the school, but, besides this, the method of instruction 
gives as a dowry for life the development of the eye for the recogni- 
tion of form and symmetry, and the training of the hand for the rep- 
resentation of these; and where is there a relation and efficiency of man 
in life which does not demand the employment thereof as essential ? 

Also the great injury of the lack of development for comprehen- 
sion and representation of form and symmetry in our citizens, espe- 
cially our mechanics, as well as in the countrymen, has been ah-eady 
impressively mentioned. 


especially by representing them on already formed sur- 
faces with predominating attention to already made 
forms ; painting of pictures in outlines ; later with pre- 
dominating attention to colors ; painting in net. 

Section 96. 

Every one to whom the life of the boy is not wholly unfamiliar, in 
whatever station he may be, will confess that the child, and especially 
the boy, at the beginning, needs to have a clear idea of color and the 
relations of color, to become conscious of and discern them, and, for 
this end, to employ himself with coloring materials, with colors. He 
will grant that the life and creation with colors belongs in and to 
early boyhood, though in different degrees with different individuals. 

Can it be otherwise ? 

The general cause of all activity in the child requires him first of 
all, in every possible individuality and form, to develop his powers, 
qualities, and capacities; that is, the totality of the life he feels in 
himself, and to exercise and to use each of these. 

But here comes in the second more necessary principle for the 
inner spiritual development in itself, without being able to point out 
any definite direction of it : are not all colors more or less determined 
by the influence of the everywhere extended activity of light ? 

Therefore color and lioht are in most intimate connection. 


And are not color and light again in most intimate connection 
with the activity, elevation, and change of life ? 

Therefore do 'not life and light, thongh it be at the first only 
earthly light, point toward the heavenly, in which alone it has its 
existence? etc. 

This high significance of color, remarked or anticipated by the 
boy (as well as the form in Xatnre from another side of the consid- 
eration), as it were, as an embodiment of the earthly light, the light 
of the sun, as a visible demonstration of its uatm'e ; this anticipation 
now of penetrating thus by the colors (by the penetrating into and 
appropriating the nature of the colors) into the nature of the earthly 
light, of the sunlight, ma}^, though unconsciously to the boy himself, 
be the most real innermost spring of his liking to employ himself 
with colors ; this may be strictly said to be boyish experience. 

We say indeed, " Colors are gay ; it is their gayety that attracts 
the children, and gives them pleasure." 

Good ; but then Mhat is gayety ? 

Is it not the effect of a cause (the light) in different appearances 
(colors) ? 

Is it not the effect of an essence (light) in different forms 
(colors) ? 

It is positively not the gayety as an outward appearance which 
attracts the boys, and gives them pleasure, else the gayety as an out- 
ward appearance would satisfy the boy when he possesses it. But it 
does not do this, neither is this done by the quantity, the mass ; but 
the expression, the finding of the inner coherence, the power to spirit- 
ualize it, does satisfy him. 

If it were the quantity that satisfied the boy, he would feel quieted 
when surrounded by it, and we should not so often hear it said to the 
dissatisfied boy, "Do tell me what you want; you have that and that 
and that, and are you not yet contented ? " 

The boy, even in childhood, seeks unity, expression, and coherence 
of life ; he seeks life in general. 

The child is charmed by the gayety, because in the manifoldness 
he recognizes the unity, the inner coherence. Hence he loves the 
colors in their groupings and unions, because by means of them he 
comes to the knowledge of one inner unity. 

But notwithstanding the high significance of this tendency in the 
boyhood of man, how do we meet it ? 

We give the development for the understanding and use of colors 
in a very casual way. 


We do indeed give the boy colors and brush, like so many otlier 
things, as one gives food to animals, casually, and also with good 
intentions ; but the boys throw about the colors as they do the other 
playthings, and as the animals do the food which does not suit them. 

What should they do with them (the colors) ? They do not them- 
selves know how to put life and union into the colors, and we do 
not help them to do it. 

However separate and different form and color may be, yet they 
are to the young boy just as unseparated as body and life. 

Indeed, the comprehension of colors seems to the boy, as perhaps 
to mankind in general, to come through the form, and also the form 
seems to come out by means of the color. 

Therefore the understanding of color must at first be connected 
with the understanding of form ; and the comprehension of form 
with that of color : color and form are in the beginning an undivided 

Since, now^, color and form appear at first to the boy as an undi- 
vided whole, but bring each other to the knowledge and insight of 
the boy, so, w^ith the efforts to cultivate the sense of color in man by 
instruction and teaching, by means of perception and of his own 
representation, there is a threefold subject for consideration : 

Fh'stly, that the forms which the boys are to point out and repre- 
sent be (what is most satisfactory) simple and definite ; 

Then, that the colors be as pure and decidedly clear as possible, 
and correspond (at least approximately) to those of the object, espe- 
cially of the natural object ; 

Finally, that the colors should be understood as much as possible 
in their relations to one another as they are actually shown in Nature, 
in theii' opposite conditioned and separating unions, or in their con- 
fluent unions. 

As the colors themselves must be as definitely comprehended as 
possible in respect to their impressions, they must also be connected 
with the word w^hich best defines them : 

First the pure colors by themselves, as red, green, blue ; 

Then according to their intensity, — dark, high, bright, etc. ; 

Then the single colors in respect to their kinds and mixtures. 

Here a double distinction takes place : 

First comparison of colors with the objects, as rose-red, sulphur- 
yellow, sky-blue ; thus defining and naming the kinds of color by the 
objects in connection with which tliey are most frequently found ; 


Or by the comparison of the colors with each other, as a blue-red, 
a green-yellow; or approximately, greenish-yellow, bluish-red. 

In general all the definitions of color must at first proceed from 
such natural objects as these colors are predominantly, and in the 
greatest unalterability peculiar to : when they are fixed in the mind 
of the pupil these definitions can also be carried on to the colors of 
other objects. 

The names of colors which are derived from objects must as often 
as possible be viewed in the object themselves, such as violet-blue. 

With the first instruction but few different definitions are investi- 
gated ; but care is taken that these definitions be clearly retained, and 
given again with precision. 

Likewise, in the use of coloring materials, but few colors are given 
to the boy at the same time ; but these colors should be as decided as 
possible. The secondary colors are later derived from the principal 
colors, as far as is practicable, and presented to the scholars. 

The surfaces to be colored must at the beginning not be too 
small, and it is best that they should refer to perceptions of Nature, 
as, in general, the instruction must be connected with the nearest 
surrounding objects, and proceed from these, as usual ; for instance, 
leaves, large flowers, butterfly wings, and birds. 

The color of quadrupeds and fishes is too indeterminate. 

Yet seeking and striving to represent natural objects especially, in 
their peculiar colors, will make the scholars observe so much the more 
the natural colors of the natural objects, to which they can be led by 
their own questions : 

" How shall I paint the trunk of this tree, this flower?" 

The more independent now the comprehension of color is, and the 
less it is dependent on the object, the more are the colors represented 
on their own account; but still in representing forms. 

If the color is now viewed as wholly independent, having, as it 
were, stripped off the form, form retreats in the instruction, and color 
comes out on its own account. 

The form of the representation is again connected wath the square 
net for many reasons which are foimded in its use. 

The coloring material is most advisably, sap-colors. 

The instruction itself is very easily attached to the life of the boy ; 
hundreds of germs show themselves in boy-life ; each circle has, and 


should have, its peculiar germs ; rightly grasped the instruction will 
flow through them into the life of the children, and life will come into 
the instruction. 

I will write down what I saw and see ; the more favorable the 
relations, the more judicious the beginning; relations cannot be made, 
but must be utilized. 

Almost a dozen boys, of the same age as those for whom this 
instruction is destined, sm-round their teacher, as sheep do their 
shepherd. As the shepherd leads the sheep to fresh pastures, the 
teacher is to lead the boys to joyous activity ; for it is Wednesday 
afternoon when the usual school-instruction is ended, and to-day there 
is no call to other activity. It is autumn, and the desire for painting- 
has already been often expressed by the lively boys of this happy 
circle ; for the autumn will perhaps invite the boys mostly to paint- 
ing, to representations of color, since the colors in nature are in the 
late autunm in large masses, and various ; and each boy has already 
tried in his own way to fulfil this desire. 

" Come, let us paint," says the teacher. " You have already 
painted, and painted a good deal ; but the painting itself, like that 
which you painted, does not please you long ; for it is not cleai'ly and 
exactly painted. Come, let us see if we can do better together. But 
what shall we paint that is not too difficult for us, for we wish to learn 
how to paint; therefore what we paint must be simple and of one 

Teacher and scholars quickly find that leaves, flowers, and fruit 
are the easiest things to paint. 

Leaves are chosen ; for the beautiful, gay, red, yellow, brown, etc., 
trees, and the beautiful colored leaves which with soft rustling have 
detached themselves from the branches in the beautiful autumn days 
and covered the ground around the trees with a gay carpet, have whis- 
pered much to the boys, and the boys have gladly brought the leaves 
home, in bouquets and wreaths. 

*' Here are leaves in outlines " (the teacher has collected them for 
this purpose), " look at them ; how will you paint them ? " 

" Green." — " Red." — " Yellow." — " Brown." 

" Which leaves would you paint green ? which red ? which 
brown ? " 

" Why would you paint these yellow?" 

" AVhy paint these red ? " 

The teacher now distributes the colors, which are preferably fine 


water-colors, and rubbed on small four-cornered glass tablets ; the 
colors can also be given to the scholars in the beginning, of a suitable 
degree of fluidity, in little paint-saucers. 

The first point is correct perception and designation of color ; it 
need scarcely be mentioned that a scholar cannot as yet give the 
leaves their exact color, but only that which most closely approximates 
to it, since the subject in hand is not so much representation of the 
object, as comprehension of the colors and management of the color- 
ing-matter. Symmetrical laying-on of the colors, keeping within 
bounds, etc., are the most essential points which are yet to be 
observed. It is yet to be understood that the scholar should hold his 
body in a proper position for free motion of the arm, hand, and 

The scholar should not go from one color to another until he has 
some government of his material, because each coloring-matter 
requb-es somewhat peculiar treatment. 

The advance from leaves is to flowers. For this purpose, such 
flowers are chosen as have large one-leaved flower-crowns, as well as 
flowers with only one color or a few determinate and strictly-bounded 
colors, such as the bluebell, the yellow primrose, the yellow narcissus, 
etc. ; likewise single flowers are chosen instead of double ones, and the 
flowers are painted in a full front or a whole side view. 

From flowers and objects of only one color, we pass on to those 
which have two colors, but distinctly separate colors, such as the con- 
vohmlus, auricular, vetch, pea-blossom, etc. 

The next advance is to objects having three colors. 

An effort is here made at least to comprehend the colors as clearly 
as possible, to represent them as well as possible, and to give them 
the most precise designation possible by words, although, at this stage 
of cultivation, each of these attempts will seem still very incomplete. 

But what feeling will be here awakened in the scholar ! and the 
desire for accurate designation, and clear insight into at least the out- 
ward relation of the colors to one another, will be aroused. 

So the colors become less and less dependent on form ; they come 
out more independently, and require more independent observation. 
Besides, the pupil now wishes to employ himself longer with each 
color, to rightly appropriate its character and its impression ; for he 
wishes to control it, and feels the insufficiency of his knowledge and 
use of it hitherto. 

Therefore now comes representation of the colors purely, without 
the essentiabiess of form, in surface-spaces determined by the net. 


The first consideration of these exercises is to put the colors into 
certain spaces, rising from smaller to larger in constantly continuing 
or interrupted surfaces, in legitimate degrees of strength, without 
overrunning the lines. Therefore surface-spaces of at first one, then 
two, etc., up to five net-squares constantly continuing (that is, touching- 
sides), and interruptedly continuing (touching corners), are represented 
in each color. In this way, the scholar obtains a clear knowledge of 
the peculiarity of each color by itself, and then of the management of 
each. These exercises begin with pure red, pure Hue, and pure 

To them succeed the exercises with the pure secondary colors, — 
j^ure green, pure orange, and pure violet-blue (purple). 

Why is each series begun with red and green"? — Experience teaches 
that these two colors come the closest to the boys, and are liked the 
best for the beginning of the series. 

As one color only has hitherto been used in constant or interrupted 
planes, so now, in like manner, two, then three, till finally all six of 
the colors hitherto used singly, are connected according to the two 
principal references, so that either the long sides of the five-squared 
surfaces last originated are at the same time the mutually-touching 
surfaces of the different colors, or the square sides lying on the cross- 

The order and sequence of the colors goes from blue to green, 
yellow, orange, red, violet, as the most suitable, and also as most har- 
monizing with the colors in Xature. 

The last appearances in this stage of development are four color- 
wholes, similar to the two line-w^holes in the line-drawing in net. 
They proceed collectively, according to law, from the thing itself, and 
bring to view the sequence of colors, limited by a middle to which 
they refer, in all the directions given by the net. 

These four color-wholes show an essential two-fold difference : 

The different, equal, rectangular, colored surfaces are continuous 
in themselves, and joined to one another by the long sides, therefore 
in vertical and horizontal directions appearing sharply defined ; or 

The different color-surfaces are interrupted ; the squares of like 
color only touch at their corners in the direction of the diagonal line 
of the net, and the different-colored, interrupted surfaces are also 
joined in the direction of this diagonal. 

Each of these two color-wholes, like the line-wholes, has in itself a 
two-fold difference, the one referring to a visible middle, and also 


going out from it ; the other referring to and enclosing an invisible 

With the representation of these four color-wholes this stage of 
instruction closes. The independent free invention of color-wholes, 
according to the law^s given by the course of teaching and the thing 
itself, similar to the invention of figures in the net; the more 
extended comprehension of the colors in their degrees of strength, or 
shades ; the comprehension and imitation of the forms of Nature, in 
and by the square forms ; — this more extended demonstration of the 
farther course of instruction for the development of the sense of 
color, the comprehension and representation of color, belongs to the 
next stage of boyhood and instruction. 

However insignificant the degree, and however small the extent to 
wiiich the instruction in this subject has developed, yet experience 
shows that it has already a manifold effect upon the scholar. Like 
song, it ennobles the sentiments, and the whole natm-e of man, 
vivifies the sense of comprehension of colors in Xatare, and thus 
heightens the sense of Nature and of life. The further influence in 
the other subjects of instruction, as well as in outer life, comes out 
clearly to him before whose inner sense the requirement of both lies. 


To what has been already written concerning play belongs the 

The plays of boys of this age, that is, the freely-active employ- 
ments of this age, show a three-fold difference ; they are either imita- 
tions of life and of the phenomena of actual life ; or they are the 
freely-active applications of w^hat has been learned ; or they are com- 
pletely spontaneous, symbols and representations of the spirit of each 
kind of object by materials of every sort, and, in the latter case, either 
according to the laws contained in the object of play, and material for 
play, which laws the boys seek out, to which they subject themselves, 
and which they follow and obey ; or, according to the laws of man 
himself, the laws of thought and sensation. But in each case the plays 


of this age are, or should be, pure manifestations of the strength and 
courage of life ; they are the products of the actively-ruling fulness of 
life, and pleasure in life in the boy. 

The plays at this time therefore presuppose inner life and anima- 
tion, active vigor of life, and a genuine outward life ; where these are 
lacking, or were before lacking, there is also lacking at this time any 
genuine play which, bearing true life in itself, awakens, nourishes, 
and heightens life. 

In this is founded the remark of a youth who had played a great 
many of such boyish plays which had bloomed out from his inner 
nature, when he said, — in reference to boys who are of the right age 
for these plays, but whose life is not awakened for them, or is dulled, 
and who now idly lounge around, getting in their own way, as it 
were, — "I do not understand ; these boys cannot play at all ; yet 
how many plays we had at their age ! " 

This fact makes it clear that the play at this age must be guided, 
and the boy developed for it ; that is, his individual life (his school- 
life, and his life of outward experience) must be made so rich that it 
must necessarily break forth in joy from within, like the blossom 
from the swelling bud. Joy is the soul of all that is done by the boy 
of this age. 

The plays themselves may be and are plays of the body, either 
exercising powers and dexterity, or purely as the expression of the 
spring and pleasure of the life within ; or plays of the senses, exer- 
cising the hearing, such as hiding, etc., exercising the sight, shooting- 
plays, and color-plays, etc. ; or plays of the intellect, plays of reflection 
and judgment, draughts, etc. As such they are already arranged and 
considered, though they are but rarely suited to the true object of 
play, the spirit of the play is but rarely comprehended, and the plays 
are but seldom managed in accordance with the needs of the boy. 

the relation op stories and traditions, of fables and fairy- 
stories, connected with the events of the day, of the 

season, and of life. 

Section 97. 

The sensation and feeling of one's own present life in one's pwn 
breast, the personal thinking and willing, making themselves known 


almost unconsciously, almost only as an impulse in one's own mind, 
are the direct personal perceptions of boys of this age, as they are 
indeed the most important perceptions for mankind in general ; for 
man understands other things, the life of others, and the action of 
other powers, only in as far as he understands himself, his own 
power, and his own life. 

But the comparison of a thing with itself cannot and does not 
lead to the knowledge and insight of the thing ; therefore the personal 
present life (the phenomena of the inner life, thoughts, feelings, sen- 
sations), compared with itself, does not bring its natm-e, its cause, 
and its significance, to the knowledge and insight of any one. In 
order to become clear itself, it requires to be compared with some- 
thing else, something different ; and certainly every one knows that 
comparisons at a certain distance are more effective than comparisons 
with objects which are too near. 

Such points of comparison for the personal life which the boy 
himself perceives, in which boys whose life is especially active see 
their own life and its phenomena as in a mirror, and measure it by 
and with these points, are given now by the perception of the life of 

The feeling of perception of personal life, of the stir of life, is 
crushed down, or disappears involuntarily and irresistibly, if the boy 
cannot grasp it, if he cannot become conscious of its nature, its cause, 
and its result ; but the active mind of the capable, vigorous boy, 
seeks, wishes, and requires this ; indeed, it is his greatest need, it is 
that which preserves his inner life. 

This is the most essential reason why boys like so much to hear 
stories, traditions, and fairy-tales, and prefer them when they begin 
with the statement that they have actually happened at some time, or 
that they lie altogether only in the province of intellectual activity. 

The power which scarcely yet sprouts in the mind of the boy 
comes to him in the tradition, in the fairy-tale, and in the story, 
grown to a complete plant, with blossoms and fruits which are most 
beautiful, but as yet scarcely dimly conjectured. 

How heart and mind expand, how the spirit strengthens, how 
freely and vigorously life unfolds, when the comparison is remote ! 

As it is not the gayety of color as such which charms the boy 
in the flowers, but a spiritual, invisible truth lying far deeper, so, 
in fairy-tales and in traditions, it is not the gay forms he meets which 
charm him, but the spirit and the life, by which the boy can measure 


his own spirit and life. It is the du'ect perception of fettered life, 
and of freely-acting power working according to the laws contained 
in it. 

The story brings forward other people, other relations, other times 
and places, other and even quite different forms ; notwithstanding 
this fact the auditor seeks his image, he sees it, yet nobody can say to 
him, " it is your image." 

Have not many seen and heard, even themselves experienced, how, 
first of all, children under the age which now unfolds its powers and 
its life under our observant gaze, have heard their mother tell the 
simplest little stories (for example, of the birdie singing and flying, 
building its nest, and feeding its young) half a dozen times, and have 
nevertheless repeatedly begged their mother to tell them again ? 

But it is just the same with the boys whose life we would now so 
much like to comprehend and penetrate. 

" Do tell us something," often say those who are listening to the 
companion who had already many a time willingly told them stories. 

" I do not know any more. I have already told you all I know." 

" Well, then, tell us this story, or this one." 

" I have told you each of those already two or three times." 

"No matter, tell them to us once more." 

He tells them, and see how his auditors attend to each word ; how 
they take each from his lips, as if they had never heard it before. 

It is not desire for inactivity of mind which leads the boy whose 
life is fresh to like stories ; it is not inactivity of mind which is 
pleased by heaiing genuine life-breathing and life-awakening stories, 
for see the strained attention of the listener. You can see how, with 
the genuine story-teller, the inner life of the genuine listener is roused, 
how he is carried out of himself, and how he thereby measures him- 

This proves that a great spiritual efficiency lies in story-telling; 
that it is not the gay forms that enchain the boy ; that through it, 
spirit speaks directly to spirit. 

Therefore ear and heart open to the genuine story-teller, as flowers 
open to the spring sun and the INIay rain. The spirit breathes in the 
spirit ; the power feels the power, and absorbs it. 

Story-telling is a real, strengthening spirit-bath ; it is a practising 
school for the spirit and the power, a school for testing personal 
opinion and personal feeling. 

But, for that reason, genuine and, consequently, efficacious story- 


telling is not easy ; for the story-teller must take life into himself in 
its wholeness, must let it live and work whole and free within him. 
He must give it out free and unabbreviated, and yet sta?id above the 
life which actually is. 

This standing above life, and yet grasping life, and being stirred 
by life, is what makes the genuine educator. Therefore either youth 
or age relate well. The mother relates well who lives only in and 
with her child, and who knows no care but that of fostering its life. 

The man, the father engrossed and fettered by life, who, while in 
the wagon of life, has to curb cares, necessities, wants, and vexations, 
will seldom tell stories well; that is, so that the story-telling shall 
please the children, so that it will influence, strengthen, and elevate 
their lives. 

The brother only a few years older, the sister only somewhat more 
advanced in age, neither of whom as yet know life in its rough actu- 
ality, who are not yet fettered and hardened by life, but still stand 
outside of it; and the much experienced grandfather and old man, 
who looks on life from a higher standpoint, having either stripped off 
or pierced through the hard bark of life ; and the old, tried sei'vant, 
whose heart is filled with satisfaction by the consciousness of faithful 
fulfilment of duty, — these are the favorites of the listening boys. 

There needs not the addition of a practical application, nor the 
impressing of a moral. 

The related life purely by itself, in whatever form it may be, even 
if it only appears as an acting power, has made a deeper impression in 
its sentiments, its effects, and results, than any practical application 
and prominent moral added in words will and can nuike ; for who 
knows what was and is the need of the wholly opened mind of the life 
aroused to feeling ? 

We tell too few stories to children, and those we tell are stories 
whose heroes are automata and stuffed dolls. 

A good story-teller is a precious gift ; blessed is the circle of boys 
that rejoices in one; he effects much; he has an ennobling effect upon 
them, so much the more ennobling that he does not appear to intend 
it. Warmly and respectfully do I greet a genuine story-teller, and 
Mdth fervent gratitude do I reach to him my hand. Yet he has a 
better greeting than mine. See what joyous faces, what shining eyes, 
and what glad jubilee, welcome him, and what a blooming circle of 
glad boys press around him, like a garland of fresh blossoms and 
twigs around the bards of joy and bliss. 


Yet, with boys of this age, spiritual activity fructifies, especially 
in union with bodily action ; therefore the awakened and aroused 
inner life should immediately have an outward object by which it can 
make itself known and abiding. 

Therefore, for boys of this age, the listening to stories should be 
always combined with activity, for the purpose of bringing forth out- 
ward w^ork. 

But, in order to be especially beneficial and effective, story-telling 
should be also connected with the events and occurrences of life. 

An apparently insignificant occurrence in the life of a neighbor 
develops to-day to an event of such importance, that it not only deter- 
mines his inner peace as well as his outward welfare, but also influ- 
ences the lives of many others. 

Wliatever was similar to this event in the personal life of each 
individual, or occurred to friends of his, — all are combined with the 
event of the day ; and see how each boy, excited by the actual event, 
is all ear. 

He takes each story as a conquest, grasps each as a treasure, and 
inserts into his own life, for his own advancement and instruction, 
what each story teaches and shows. 

Section 98. 

Outdoor life, life in Nature, is pre-eminently important, especially 
for the young human being, for its effects are developing, strengthen- 
ing, elevating, and ennobling. It gives life and higher significance 
to all. 

Therefore little excursions and longer walks are essential as an 
excellent means of education and schooling, even in beginning boy- 
hood and the first school-time. 

Therefore if man is to attain his whole destiny, if he is to raise 
himself to the highest stage he can reach on earth, and if he is to be a 
vigorous whole, he must feel, know, and recognize himself as a whole, 
as well with God and humanity as wdth Nature. 

This feeling of the whole, in order to become itself a whole, must 
grow up with man from an early period of his life. He must divine 
the coherence of the development of Nature and the development of 
man, of the phenomena of Nature and the phenomena of man; he 


must also divine Iheir reciprocal references, that is, the different im- 
pression on one and the same man conditioned by outward limitations 
proceeding from Nature, or by inward limitations proceeding from 
man, so that man may as much as possible penetrate into the phe- 
nomena and character of Nature, and that it may become to him 
more and more w^hat it should be, — a guide to higher perfection. 

In this spirit of accord, nnion, and active coherence of all the phe- 
nomena of Natm-e, and in the i^erception of the necessity by which, 
from the nature of life and power, plurality proceeded and still pro- 
ceeds from unity, manifoldness from singleness, the impression of the 
great from the appearance of the small, — in this spirit all longer 
walks and shorter excursions of boys of this age are to be made, and 
from this perception are to be considered what these walks and excur- 
sions bring to view\ 

This is the reason why all boys on their excm'sions march forward 
so vigorously in order to take into themselves quickly a great whole. 
Jt gives them so much the greater pleasure to seek out the individual 
parts, if a relatively greater whole has been already grasped, though 
that whole may be by no means the greatest possible. 

These short excm'sions and longer walks will make the boy look 
upon the part of the country in which he lives as a whole, and will 
make him feel Nature to be a continuous whole. 

Without this, what would be the direct spiritual utility of all 
walks for the pupil ? 

They would deaden, instead of animating; they would empty, 
instead of filling. 

As man considers the air by which he is surrounded as belonging 
to himself, and breathes in pure air for bodily health, so he wall con- 
sider the pure clear Nature which surrounds him as belonging to 
himself, and will allow his whole nature to be penetrated by the 
spu-it of God wdiich dwells in Nature. 

Therefore the boy should early view^ and recognize the objects of 
Nature in their true relations and original connections ; he should 
learn by his longer walks to know his own neighborhood from begin- 
ing to end ; he should roam through the adjoining country ; he should 
accompany his brook or little river along its course from its source to 
its mouth, and observe the local differences in respect to the soil ; he 
should w^ander about on the heights that the ramifications of the 
mountains may be plain to him; he should climb to the highest 
points, that he may survey the connection of the whole surrounding 
country, and be able to describe it to himself. 


It should be made clear to him, by looking at the thing itself, how 
the form and formation of hill and vale, and the course of the river, 
reciprocally condition one another. 

He should look at the products of the hills, of the valleys and 
plains, of' the earth and water, in the places in which they are ; he 
should endeavor to search out in the higher country around him the 
places from which the stones rolled on by the water, and the river and 
field-stones which the low country shows him, came, and in which 
they were formed. 

The boys, in their walks and excm^sions, should see the life of the 
animals and plants in their usual dwelling-places; they should see 
how some sun themselves, and absorb light and warmth, and how 
others seek darkness and shadow, coolness and moisture. 

They should see how the objects of Nature which seek shadow 
were in close connection with that which gives shadow, and, as it 
were, produced by it ; and those which seek light and warmth were in 
close connection with that which creates the supply of light, and 
develops w^armth. 

During these walks the boy should seek out on many sides the 
way in which the place of abode and the food seem to condition the 
color, even the form, of the natural objects Mhich have higher 
activity of life, as, for instance, the caterpillar, the butterfly, and the 
insects Ihat infest plants, agree in form as w^ell as color with the 
plants on which they belong ; nor should the fact escape his attention 
that this outward similarity affords protection to the creatures, and 
that the higher orders of the animal kingdom utilize this similarity 
for their protection with instinct that is almost reflection. For exam- 
ple, the finches, in building their nests, make them almost indistin- 
guishable from the branches and trees on which they are placed ; 
indeed the time of life and the expression of color of all creatures is 
in harmony with the character of the time of day, and therefore with 
the eifect of the sun ; day-butterflies have bright vivid colors ; night- 
moths, brown or gray, etc. 

By his own observation and his own discovering, by his own 
notice of this continuous and vivid coherence of x^ature, by the direct 
view of Nature itself, not by explanations in words and ideas for 
which the boy has no intuition, there shall dawn upon him early, and, 
however dimly at the beginning, yet more and more clearly, the great 
thought of the inner, continual, vivid connection of all things and 
phenomena in Xature. 


But, first of a,ll, the life, occupations, and calling of man, later, 
his social relations, his character, his manner of thinking and acting, 
especially his morals, his manners and customs, and his language — 
all this will all come to the boy on his excursions in its great coher- 
ence with Nature. 

This, however, must be left in the indication, as it is in reality, to 
the later stages of development and cultivation of the boy and youth. 

From the consideration of the means of instruction and manner 
of teaching thereby conditioned, which necessarily coincide with the 
striving of man toward development, the requisitions for the knowl- 
edge of number, of space, of form, of exercises in speech, of writing, 
and of reading, come out clearly and definitely from the consideration 
of the outside world and the practice of language; and in these 
branches of instruction were denoted the points at which each of 
these subjects grows forth of itself, as a particular branch, from the 
more general teaching before given. 

Since, now, these subjects of instruction, in accordance with their 
nature, are introduced later than those before treated, and come in 
for the first time when the fundamental teaching from which they 
develop has been carried through to a certain point, the consideration 
and accomplishment of them is postponed till the former studies are 
wholly completed. 

But the above-named subjects of instruction belong in the second 
half of the time of boyhood now^ before our consideration. There- 
fore the particular consideration of them necessarily joins du'ectly 
that of the subjects of instruction hitherto considered. 

knowledge of number. 
Section 99. 

The development of number, the separation of the perception of 
the object and the impression of the thing from the conception of 
number, and thus the capacity of counting at least to ten, and then 
to twenty, was clearly presented and much used by what has gone 


By this manifold application of number, the scholar soon finds the 
necessity of a more fundamental, comprehensive knowledge of num- 
ber ; and thus the science of number is introduced, and comes to him 
with necessity and pleasure, desired by him as an especial subject of 

So it should always be. Xo new subject of instruction should 
come to the scholar, of which he does not at least conjecture that 
it is grounded in the former subject, and how it is so grounded, as 
its application shows, and concerning which he does not, however 
dimly, feel it to be a need of the human spirit. 

Number," as quantity and size, shows at the first glance the prop- 
erty which it has in common with the different objects, especially 
with the objects of Nature, of a double origination, — the origination 
from without by accretion, and that from within by growth and 
increase from itself. 

But as number shares with the objects of Nature its manner of 
origination, so also does it share the property of disappearing, of 
vanishing, of annihilation. 

But this annihilation also show\s a tw^o-fold difference; the one 
being destruction from without; the other, dissolution from within. 

But in every place where origination and annihilation, increase 
and decrease, are found, there, also, is comparison, which again is 
naturally either external or internal, according to outwardly visible, 
or inwardly perceptible law. 

And so, therefore, the science of number separates into knowledge 

of the formation of number 
according to outward, according to inward law; 

the annihilation of number 
according to outward, according to inward law; 


the comparison of number 
according to outward, according to inward law. 

This inner coherence of Nature and number, of the laws of num- 
ber and Nature, just pointed out, expresses itself so irresistibly now — 
when the essence of Nature comes so speakingly and actively near to 
man that he can no longer reject the notice of the laws of Nature 
which express themselves everywhere and repeatedly — that the 
expressions, inorganic and organic formation, annihilation, and com- 


parison of number powerfully impress themselves in an observation 
and treatment of number in accordance with the laws of Nature and 
reason, an observation and treatment which have already continued 
fifteen years. (Jas. Schmid's Number, 1810.) 

All instruction, and therefore, also, the instruction in arithmetic, 
must meet not only the anticipation of the repetition of the laws of 
Nature in many directions in the life, thought, and action of man, 
which anticipation expresses itself early even in boyliood, but, in gen- 
eral, the anticipation of a comprehensive proportion of law as active 
as it is necessary, in all things ; consequently, instruction in arithmetic 
must call attention to the laws of number, make them prominent, 
and bring the scholar to clear consciousness of them. 

The prominence and vivid intuition of the laws of number, and the 
exercise of quick comprehension of and penetration into the relations 
of number, are of equal importance ; neither of them should be 
repressed in favor of the other : the scholar must, at this stage, be just 
as quick in numbers as he must be in perceiving and actualizing the 
relations of number. 

Therefore representation by himself, and consequent clear percep- 
tion and comprehension of the relations of number to the quantity 
itself ; practice and repeated application of these relations ; survey 
of the whole, bringing out the individual parts; and repetition- in 
concert — are the most essential points to observe in this instruction, 
as well as in each which treats of a similar subject. 

The course of instruction proceeds from what has just been said, 
and can easily be worked out by means of what is already known 
concerning it ; wherefore the following indications will suffice : — 

1. Connection with the preceding. 
Tests of the skill in counting. 

Counting from one to twenty forward and backward continuously, 
or leaving out and over-leaping some of the numbers. 

2. Representation and view of the series of numbers as a con- 
tinuous whole. 

Count from one to ten, and make each time as many vertical lines 
(of one square in length) as the word for the number points out; thus 
with one, ] ; with two, 1 1 and in a vertical direction, one below 
another : — 


(One) . . . I ; 
(Two) ... II; 
(Three) ... | M ; 
(Four) ... Mil; etc. 
" Have you done it ? " 
" What have you done ? " 

" We have counted from one to ten, and have made each time," 

" Good ; you have thus represented the natural series of all num- 
bers from one to ten." 

" What have you represented?" 

Rendering prominent, viewing, and becoming conscious of the 
reciprocal relation between the word and the quantity, the number 


Proceeding from the w^ord. 

Teacher and scholar speak together, pointing to the represented 

series : — 

One is | (one one) ; 

Two is 1 1 (two ones) ; 

Three is 1 1 1 (three ones) ; etc. 

Proceeding from the number or quantity. 

Teacher and scholar speak together, pointing to the represented 
series : — 

I (one one) is one ; 

I I (two ones) is two ; 

I I I (three ones) is three ; etc. 

Word and quantity pass into one another, and appear as one : or 
the number merely is looked at : — 

I one is one ; 

I I two is two ; 

I I I three is three ; etc. 

The whole is gone through by teacher and scholars, speaking 
together as before. 

3. Setting down, and considering the numbers as even and odd 

Teacher and scholars speak together as usual, looking directly at 
the thing : — 


I one is neither even or odd; 

I I two is an even number ; 

I I I three is an odd number ; etc. 

The conceptions of even and odd numbers can here only be put 
down, but receive later their confirmation. 

It is well here to call the attention of the scholar to a great, widely- 
prevailing law of Nature and thought, which is this : that, between 
two relatively-different things and conceptions, a third always stands 
in the middle, as it were, uniting both in itseK with a certain equi- 
librium ; so here, between even and odd, a third, w hich is neither ; so, 
in form, the right angle between the acute and obtuse angles ; so, in 
speech, the open sounds betw^een the voice-sounds and the closed 
sounds. A thinking teacher, and scholars roused to independent 
thought, cannot but become attentive to this and other important 

Representation of all even numbers in regular sequence up to ten. 
" Represent all the even numbers up to ten, so that the spaces for 
the odd numbers lying between may remain free and unoccui^ied " : — 

mill; etc. 

Naming of this series as the natural series of all even numbers up 
to ten. 

The same with the odd numbers. 

As soon as each scholar has represented each series on his slate, the 
teacher represents it on a large blackboard, and the scholars, when 
answering, must always have in view these actual representations of 
number, either on the blackboard or their own slates ; they are also to 
go through with it repeatedly with the teacher's pointing. 

Single questions which proceed from the exercises ; for example, 
I 1 1 1 (pointing to the number itself). " Which of the even num- 
bers is four ? " 

1 1 1 1 1 " Which of the odd numbers is five ? " 

" How many even numbers are there from one to ten ? " 

" How many odd numbers are there from one to ten ? " 


" Are there more even or more odd numbers in the natural series 
of all numbers from one to ten ? " 

" Why are there more even than odd numbers ? " 

4. Formation of the number by addition from the outside. 

"Add I to each number of the natural series of all numbers up to 
ten, and see what comes out each time." 

Recitation in concert with pointing : — 

I and I are | | ; 

I I and I are | [ | ; etc. 
Single questions. 

" When I add ] to each number of the natural series of all num- 
bers up to ten, what results? " 

" There results again a natural series of all numbers, but from two 
to eleven." 

" If you add | to a number, what kind of a number always 
results ? " 

" The next larger number." 

" Add I to each number of the natural series of all even numbers, 
and see what comes out." 

Recitation in concert : — 

I I and I are | [ | , etc. 

" If I is added to an even number, what kind of number always 
results ? " 

" An odd number." 

"If I is added to each number of the natural series of all even 
numbers, what results ? " 

" The natural series of all odd numbers." 

The same course is now pursued, and the same questions asked, 
with regard to the numbers of the natural series of all odd numbers. 

Bringing out and reciting in concert the two laws : — 

I added to an even number gives always an odd number ; 

I added to an odd number gives always an even number. 

In the same way that I was hitherto added, 1 1 is now added to 
each of the three different series. (The course of teaching is as 

Bringing out, and reciting in concert the following laws. 

When 1 1 is added to a number, there results always the second 
following number. 

When I I is added to each number of the natural series of all num- 
bers, there results the natural series from three to twelve. 


I 1 added to an even number gives an even number. 

I I added to an odd number gives an odd number. 

When I 1 is added to each number of the natural series of all even 
numbers, there results a natural series of all even numbers from four 
to twelve ; etc. 

Ill, 1 1 1 1 , etc., are added in the same way. 

By the addition of 1 1 1 , there results always the third following ; 
by the addition of ] | | | , the fourth following number, etc. 

Hence this general law : — 

If I add one number to another, there results a number as far dis- 
tant from the other as the added number has units or ones. 

" Add the next following number of the natural series of all 
numbers from one to ten, and see what results." 

Represent it on your own slates : — 

I and I I are | j] ; 

I I and I I I are Mill; 
I 1 I and I I I I are I 1 1 I I I I ; etc. 

Recitation in concert, and bringing out of questions; for ex- 
ample : — 

" The third and fourth numbers are how much, or give what 
number ? " 

Law : — 

When to each number of the natural series of all numbers from 
one to ten, the next following number is added, there results the 
natural series of all odd numbers from three to nineteen. 

Proceed in the same manner with the series of even and of odd 

Bringing out and reciting in concert of the laws : — 

An even number and an even number give always an even number. 

An odd number and an odd number give always an even number. 

An even number and an odd number give always an odd number. 

General law : — 

Two numbers of the same kind give always an even number ; two 
numbers of different kinds give always an odd number. 

The next following number, added to each number of the natural 
series of all even numbers, gives a series of even numbers, increasing 
always hj four, from six to eighteen. 

The next following number, added to each number of the natural 
series of all odd numbers, gives a series of even numbers, increasing 
always by four, from eight to sixteen. 


As hitherto only two numbers were added together, three and more 
must now be added together ; for example : — 

II, II, and I are how many? 

Begin with the smallest nnmbers, and at first do not let the 
amount rise above thirty. 

Here the questioning, and, as usual, the representation on their 
slates by the children themselves, are x^articularly important. The 
proof and the reason also i^roceed from the representation by the 
children themselves. 

It is important to add together, the 1st and 2d ; then the 1st, 2d, 
and 3d ; then the numbers from the 1st to the 4th, etc., in the natm-al 
series of all numbers. 

Now recitation in concert, and bringing out of single questions. 

" How much do the first and second numbers make ? " 

" How much do the first to the third numbers make ? " Etc. 

" What is the sum of all the nmnbers from one to ten ? " 

"What is the sum of all the even numbers up to ten?" 

" How much do all the uneven numbers up to ten make ? " 

The following questions are very important. 

" How great is the sum of i\\Q first and last numbers in the natural 
series of all numbers from one to ten ? " 

"What is the sum of the second number and the next to the last?" 

" What is the amount of the third number and the third from the 
last number ? " Etc. 

" What are the amounts in all these cases ? " 

Question in the same way with the series of even, and that of odd 

General law : — 

The amounts of two numbers which are equally distant from the ends 
of a regularly increasing series of numbers are always equal to one 

5. Contemplation of the composite unities. 

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from 
one to ten." 

The teacher does the same on the blackboard. 

The teacher now says, pointing to the blackboard, at which all the 
scholars look : — 

i is a one. 

1 1 two ones thought of as a whole is a tioo. 
1 1 1 three ones thought of as a whole is a three, etc. 


That which is thought of as an undivided whole is called a unit. 
The teacher says, and the scholars repeat after him : — 

I one one is a simple unit ; 
I I one two is a compound (literall}', jmt together^ miit ; 

I 1 1 one three is a compound unit, etc. 

" Represent several twos on your slates." 
" Represent several fours." Etc. 

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all twos from one 
two to ten twos." 

" Can you also represent the natui'al series of tlirees or fours f" 
Teacher and scholars together : — 

1 1 one two is neither an even nor an odd number of twos. 

II II two twos is an even number of twos. 

II II I j three twos is an odd number of twos, etc. 

The treatment of the compound units is exactly like the treatment 
of the simple units. Yet just on account of these compounds it may 
be w^ell to extend it considerably, particularly with bo3*s whose power 
of comprehension and especially of summing up is weak. 

A very important exercise, especially in reference to the relation of 
number to Nature, but also in respect to the laws which lie hidden in 
number itself and in other numerical relations is, — 

6. The representation of numbers under all forms. 

" Can one of you represent the quantity of two in different ways ? 
Whoever can, may' do it." 

" How can you represent two ? " 

"By two ones (| |) and by a two (| |)." 

" Can you also represent the three under different forms ? " 

" Represent all the forms." 

Ill, II I, I II, I 1 1. 

" In how many M^ays can four be represented ? " 

By 1 1 II, II II, 1 1 I U 1 1 I I. M II ; that is, by a four, a three and 
a one, two twos, etc. 

With young and weak scholars go at most to seven. 

It is especially important to seek out the law for the discovery of 
all forms under which each number can be represented. 

This law comes out very easily, if one only follows the course in 
which and according to which the forms develop ; yet on account of 


the multifarious recapitulation and the greater survey which it 
requires, the seeking-out of this law of ^NTature is suitably deferred to 
the next stage of the contemplation of numbers, if scholars not 
unusually advanced go through this course of teaching. 

The law itself is as follows : — 

Each following number gives in all (including all forms, even those 
which are only different in position) twice as many forms as the pre- 
ceding number gave ; or, to give an exact definition, the number of 
the forms of each number is obtained by raising the number 2 to 
as high a power as the number itself has units, minus 1 ; for example, 
4 gives (4 — 1 = 3) = 2^ = 8 forms. 

7. The diminishing and destruction of the number from without 
is carried through similarly to the formation of the number from with- 
out, but reversed ; the corresponding reversed laws also are rendered 
prominent, and brought to the knowledge of the scholars. 

8. Formation of number from within according to inner law; or 
formation of the numbers according to the law^ or the determining of 
another number; or formation of the number by inner increase. 

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from 
one to ten ; take each number as often as there are units in one, and 
see what comes out." 

They represent : 

I, I, I; 
II,. I, II; 
III, 1, III; etc. 

Now recitation in concert : — 
There is one unit in one. 

I taken as often as | has units, or taken ] time, gives | 
1 1 taken as often as I has units, or taken | time, gives 1 1 
I I I taken as often, etc. 

Otherwise expressed : — 

I repeated according to the law of | gives | ; 
1 1 repeated according to the law of | gives 1 1 ; 
I I i repeated according to the law of | gives 1 1 | ; etc. 

Still otherwise expressed, and repeated in concert : — 
I increased according to the law of | gives | ; 
I I increased according to the law" of | gives | | ; 
1 1 1 increased according to the law of | gives 1 1 1 ; etc. 


Otherwise expressed, and recited in common : — 
1 taken ] time gives | ; 
1 1 talien | time gives 1 1 ; 
1 1 1 taken | time gives | | ] ; etc. 
Again : — 


I time 




1 time 




1 time 




Finally : — 

1 times I gives | ; 

I times I I gives ] 1 ; 

I times I I I gives | | | ; etc. 

" Represent again on your slates the natm-al series of all numbers 
from one to ten ; now take the one as often as there are units in each 
of the numbers, and see what you get." 

This can again be expressed in one or several of the ways before cited. 

The same procedure is carried through with the | | , | | | , and each of 
the following numbers as with the one, and recited in one or several of 
the ways just given. 

The object of these different modes of expression is, that the 
scholar may arrive at the inner significance of the expression, ime, 
and perceive that it presupposes the inner determining of another 

" First repeat the 1 1 as often as each number of the natural series 
of all numbers has units." 

" Then each number of the natural series of all numbers as often 
as the 1 1 has units." 

" See what comes out in both cases, and place the two series oppo- 
site one another." 

They represent : — 

I (times) I i (is) 1 1 (two) ; 

II (times) II (are) ||JI (four); 

Ml (times) II (are) |I,II,|I (six); 
MM (times) II (are) I|,IMI,|| (eight); etc. 

Otherwise expressed : — 

1 1 (times) I (is) 1 1 (two) ; 

I I (times) II (are) 1 1, I I (four); 

II (times) III (are) ||1, ||1 (six); 

II (times) MM (are) MIMMI (eight); etc. 


Single questions are now asked, first from one series, then from the 
other, and then from the same lines in both. 

" Two times seven and seven times two are each how much ? " 

" What is the difference in these two ways of making fourteen ? " 

Series of the different ways of repeating the three and the four can 
also be made, and each two series compared. 

Xow single questions are asked indiscriminately. 

" Six times nine are how many times one ? " 

" If you take each number of the natm-al series of all numbers as 
often as | has units, what always results ? " 

" Always the number itself." 

" If you take each number as often as the 1 1 has units, what hind 
of a number results ? " 

" Always an even number." 

" If you take each number as often, as the 1 1 1 1 has units, what kind 
of a number then results ? " 

" Always an even number." 

" "What hind of numbers are two and four ? " 

"Even numbers." 

" Xow what law follows from this ? " . ^ 

" Each number taken an even number of times gives always an 
even number." 

" Take each number three and then five times, and see what 

" Even and odd numbers." 

"Then the law?" 

" Each number of the natm'al series taken an odd number of times 
gives even and odd numbers." 

Thus are the following laws to develop : — 

An even number taken an even or an odd number of times gives 
always an even number. 

An odd number taken an even number of times gives an even 

An odd number taken an odd number of times gives an odd 

9. Concerning the square numbers. 

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from 
one to ten ; take each number of the series as often as it itself has 
units, and see what results." 


Recitation in concert : — 

1 , 1 time gives | (one) ; 

11,11 times gives MM (four) ; 

111, 111 times gives 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 II (nine) ; etc. 

" What have we done ? " 

" We have taken each number as often as it itself has units," or 
" We have increased each number by its own law." 
" The number or quantity which results when I increase a number 
by its own law^ is called a square number, or a square." 
Single questions. 

" What is the square of this or that number ? " 
"Of what number is this or that number (for instance, 64) the 
square ? " 

" The number of which another number is the square is called the 
root of this square, and also the square root." 

" Can any number be taken a square number of times? " 
" Yes ; for instance, five can be taken nine times." 
" Can a square number also be taken a square number of times?" 
" Yes ; for .instance, nine can be taken four times." 
The further advance is manifest in the thing itself. 
10. Representation of all forms in which each 'number can be 
made by repetition ; or, representation of the different ways in which 
each number can be formed by increase. 

" Try in how many ways you can get | | by increase." 
" In two ways ; either by taking the | | one time, or by taking 1 two 

" Represent on your slates all the forms in which each number of 
the natural series of all numbers up to ten can be formed by repeti- 
tion or increase, and see what you remark about it." 

" Do all numbers result in the same number of ways by repeti- 

"No. Several numbers, such as one, two, three, result only in 
two ways by repetition." 

" In what two ways do these numbers always originate ? " 
" Either the number is increased by the law of the one (of unity), 
or the one (unity) by the law of the number." 

" I^umbers which originate only in these two ways by increase are 
called prime numbers." 

" What are prime numbers ? " 


" Name all the prime numbers up to thirty." 
" How many prime numbers are there up to 10 ? to 20 ? " 
" What one of the numbers up to thirty can be represented in the 
most different ways by repetition ? " 

11. Diminishing or destroying the numbers according to inner 
law, or by repetition. 

Tliis, as well as the division of the numbers (not of the unity) 
which depends upon it and is conditioned by it, and the demonstration 
of one number bei7ig contained in another, can be easily carried out 
according to what has been hitherto presented. 

Each person can now likewise easily accomplish — 

12. The comparison of the numbers according to outer, and 

13. The comparison of the numbers according to inner laws, by 
what has been hitherto pointed out. 

The boy of this age who is at this stage of development should not 
be carried beyond this point of comparison of numbers according to 
the inner law. The consideration of numbers in relations which pre- 
suppose a greater survey and a greater compreliension of number 
belongs to the following stage of development of the boy, and will in 
consequence be pointed out with it 


knowledge of forms. 
Section 100. 

The contemplation of the outer world and the language exercises 
led, as was before pointed out, to the perception and consideration, to 
the knowledge of form. Yet the objects of the outer world show, in 
general, such a manifoldness of form, they are so complicated, and 
therefore so difficult to perceive, and especially to define, that the 
thing itself leads more and more to a further descent to objects of 
simple forms, and requires a descent to such forms as have simple 
straight surfaces, to such as are equiangularly or rectangularly bounded. 

But the knowledge of the linear lies at the foundation of the 
knowledge of each form ; the forms are viewed and I'ecognized by the 
intermediation of the straight-lined. 

Therefore, with the perception and consideration of the objects 
according to their direction in themselves, the objects composed of 


curved lines are soon dropped, and the objects are at first considered 
on the basis of the straight lines ; for example, 

the circumscribing surface of a stove, 
the glass on the clock, 
the rim of an inkstand, 

are curved ; 
the window-hangings, 

the frames of the windows and looking-glass, 
the cross-pieces of the window, 

are straight-faced and straight. 

Now the objects and their parts and boundaries are considered in 
respect to their position and their direction from one another ; for 

the two long and the two short window-hangings 

are parallel; 
one long and one short window-hanging 

are right and left from one another ; 
one long and one short side of the window-hangings 

are parallel; 
the two cross-pieces of two adjoining windows 
have the same direction. 

So with the consideration of the chair and table legs, etc., the dif- 
ferent surfaces, edges, and corners of the table, etc., in respect to then- 
direction, position, number, connection, and form. 

So with the consideration of the room; its form; the position, 
form, and direction of its walls, corners, and angles, etc. 

From the consideration of straight-surfaced compound objects we 
pass to the consideration of straight-surfaced simple bodies, cubical, 
beam-shaped, tabular, pyramidical, etc., bodies. 

If, now, the scholar, by the consideration of the surfaces and edges 
of these solids, has recognized the linear relation under which and in 
which they were viewed, and thus each edge as a line, and so the 
linear, which is at the foundation of each form, is clear to him ; then 
is developed in the boy the need to look at the linear, and the relation 
of lines to one another. 

The boy has now developed to the stage at which the instruction 
for actual knowledge of form, and, first of all, for perception and 
knowledge of form on and in a plane, is needed. 

The knowledge of straight-lined forms on and in a p)lane begins 
with consideration of one and single lines (at first unconnected, and, 


ill respect to position and direction, as parallel; ha\dng the right 
direction and not parallel ; and the latter again, as running right and 
left, and having the same inclination), and with seeking out how the 
number, position, and direction of the lines reciprocally condition one 

Then the consideration advances to the combinations, and shows 
how many can be combined and uncombined, firstly in general ; sec- 
ondly, according to the number of the points ; thirdly, according to 
the relation of the position of the ends to the points of union of 
the lines, either inside or outside of the points of union. 

The next step is consideration of the direct result of lines combined 
in points, the angles in respect to their number and in respect to their 
relations to the lines and points of union ; that is, consideration of 
the angles in respect to position and form. 

Next comes consideration of the lines in reference to the space 
which they enclose, and consideration of the form of this space condi- 
tioned first by the number and position of the lines, then by the 
number, form, and position of the angles, the number, form, and posi- 
tion of the corners. 

As hitherto closed spaces or formed surfaces were considered each 
by itself, they must now be considered in combination, first with 
lines, then with angles, and finally with surfaces. Surfaces are 
combined with surfaces alike in kind and name, and unlike in both, 
and, again, either intersecting one another in points, or in lines 
(sides), or in surfaces (planes). 

The concluding point is where several surfaces alike in name but 
unlike in kind, and especially several squares and equilateral tri- 
angles are combined in one form ; therefore squares and triangles 
(forms in other respects differing in kind) are found again in a 
third; for instance, three squares combined and intersecting one 
another define a dodecagon by their corners ; four squares combined in 
the same way also condition a dodecagon by their corners. The 
dodecagon is therefore the connecting form of the ternary and quater- 
nary ; but the dodecagon points to the polygon ; and the polygon 
without corners is the circle. The limit of the knowledge of form, 
by means of forms limited by straight lines, is therefore the point at 
which they designate, require, and condition the circle. 

To carry through the internal part of this instruction, and thereby 
to show the living wholeness of the most peculiar laws which these 
considerations bring to perception, and which recur in peculiar forms 


in the different subjects, especially in number and the laws of number, 
is rendered impossible by the want of space as well as by the lack of 
representations of form which are excluded by the purpose of this 
work ; yet what is most essential concerning the course of teaching, 
particularly concerning the nature of the knowledge of space, will be 
noticed in the following stages of cultivation of the boys and scholars. 
There is but one more remark to make here ; namely, that the instruc- 
tion in the knowledge of form, at this stage of the boy's development, 
has to retain the frequently-returning representation and actual view 
of the forms far more than to require too quickly the perception of the 
truths in their generality, abstracted from, form, and also from indi- 
vidual and personal representing. Too compound connections of 
relations, and the sequence of conclusions which are consequently also 
too compound, must be avoided, at this stage. Each relation is viewed 
purely by itself and for itself, but in as many forms as possible, and 
in quite simple evident combinations. 

The consideration of lines having like inclination leads out from 
form, especially to free drawing. 

exercises in speech. 
Section 101. 

We now turn to a quite different side of the instruction, the pure 
opposite of that just considered; for the scarcely considered subject of 
that instruction was visible, and could be held fast. The subject, or 
really the material of this instruction, is audible and vanishing ; there- 
fore the tAvo subjects are opposite to, yet like one another, completing 
one another, and therefore belonging together: the recognized and 
appropriated form seeks to give again the object ; it is the province of 
language also to portray the object. 

It was the business and purpose of the language exercises to view 
the objects of the outside world correctly and clearly, and to point 
them out clearly and precisely by words. The exercises in speech 
deal with language as material to use for representation ; they deal 
with the exercises for the knowledge and correct use of this material 
as an audible one ; and, first of all, again with the knowledge, practice, 
and attaining of consciousness of the way and manner in which man, 


as it were, creates and at the same time forms the material by means 
of his organs of speech. 

Therefore the exercise of speech considers the tcord purely by 
itself, and wholly abstracted from the object. 

The exercises in speech have, therefore, the pui'pose of bringing the 
boy to the knowledge of, and clear insight into, language as material. 

From this, the connection of language before pointed out, espe- 
cially of the original word, and its different kinds of parts, with the 
objects to be designated and their properties ; or in other words, the 
consideration of the necessary opposition yet likeness between lan- 
guage and object, — the icord-knoidedge, — now necessarily comes out 
as a new branch of instruction. 

The different size of the words is the first thing which comes to 
our notice in considering the word as such ; and the scholar also must 
be brought to perceive this by the exercises in speech. 

But the size of a word is at first recognized by the greater or less 
number of its syllables. The different number of syllables in each 
word is, therefore, the first thing which is brought to the insight of 
the scholar by the exercises in speech, and he is to know and distin- 
guish the words as composed of one, two, three, and more parts. 

Next to the number of the syllables there comes up for considera- 
tion the f?(^e?Tr2ce o/K??// o/^/^e^^arfs of each syllable. A prevailing 
remark is, that there is no syllable without a voice-sound (vowel). 
To learn to know the different voice-sounds, and their dilferent kinds, 
is now the next requirement. 

The voice-sounds aj^pear here as simple and compound, and the 
former again as principal and secondary. The difference between the 
voice-sounds and the different kinds of voice-sounds lead directly to 
the observation of the different use of the organs of speech, especially 
the different positions of the mouth, and to the conception of the 
dependence of the purity and certainty of the voice-sounds upon the 
precision and suitableness of the opening of the mouth, etc. 

If, now, the nature and manner of origination of the voice-sounds 
is recognized as far as the stage of development permits, the parts of 
the words which form, as it were, the bodies of the vowels (the conso- 
nants), impress themselves upon our observation. They soon show 
the essential difference, that some, brought forward and considered 
alone, are still, in a certain way, audible; these consonants are the 
open sounds : but others are almost inaudible, because they close the 
organs of speech ; these are the closed sounds. 


Both open and closed sounds show the further peculiarity of being 
predominantly connected ^Yith certain organs of speech, the lips, the 
nose, etc. ; and so the open sounds, first of all, are distinguished as 
nose-sounds (nasal), lip-sounds (labial), tongue-sounds (lingual), teeth- 
sounds (dental), ^;a/a^e-sounds (palatal), tJwoat-sounds (gutteral), and 
lung-sounds (aspirate). The closed sounds are distinguished in the 
same manner. 

The open and closed sounds show, as compared with one another 
and in reference to their origination, the essential difference, that, in 
their origination and production, the organs of speech are either used 
with more or less or medium exertion of strength, or else in a different 
way ; and thus different slightly-altered open and closed sounds are 
produced by the same organ. 

Not only does the dependence of the pure, precise utterance of the 
elements of words, and consequently the dependence of the whole 
mother-tongue upon the exact and sure use of the organs of speech, 
become clear to the scholar, but he comes thus to a clear conception 
of the activity of these organs, which activity conditions and lies at 
the foundation of each word-element, and he also gains an insight 
into the way in which this is done. Consequently there comes to the 
boy by degrees the divination of the inner active coherence of the 
activity of the spirit, of the body, and of Nature, as, in the subject 
before us, speech is the product of the spirit through the action of the 
body, and is a corresponding satisfying image of the way in which 
the inner as well as the outer world represent themselves to him. 

Thus this actively-producing, developing course of instruction in 
speech shows in its progress that the formation and development of 
speech, the speech itself, is in itself a great living whole, a life-whole. 
Between the different kinds of sharply-defined elements of words, the 
voice-sounds, the open and the closed sounds, there are some inter- 
mediate ones. 

Further, three different elements of words generally seem to belong 
to each organ of speech, one of which requires a harder, the second a 
sharper, and the third a softer or more gentle exertion of strength by 
the organ of speech. 

Far more proceeds from this subject that can be given by the 
teacher ; but few indications are here given on account of limited 


First of all, in order to lead the scholar to the perception and 
knowledge of the difference in words in respect to the number of 
syllables, the teacher pronounces a word of one syllable, and, at the 
same time, in order to make visible the quantity of the parts, makes a 
horizontal beat with his right hand, then counts one, and makes 
another beat at the same time ; for example, 

Teacher i'^^^^'- -^^^^ ' ' ' " ^"' I at the same time. 
( beats : — — > 

(beat) (beat) 

Teacher. " Seek out words with which we can also make only one 
beat, and can also count only one." 

Proceeding in the same way as the teacher, 

The scholar | ^^^'^ ' ^'^"'^ " * ' " ^"^ I both at the same time. 

( says : Jiead .... one \ 
\ beats : — — ) 

These and each of the following exercises are continued until the 
scholars readily do what the teacher requires. The boys are best led 
to attend to the teacher's requirement by the word " attention." 

That which is found and spoken by each individual is, as usual, 
recited by all, thus becoming a common possession. 


Teacher -j ^ .... i , no r exactly at the same time, 

(beat, beat) (beat, beat) 

" Find words with each of which we can also make two beats, and 
count one, two." 

" Mantel ; kindly ; morning." 

The beating with the hand, in order to make the size of the word 
and the number of its syllables outwardly visible in space, is necessary 
because it is a deeply-grounded, incontrovertible requisite with all 
instruction to connect all that is to be known by the scholar and 
brought forward by the teacher with something which is of an oppo- 
site natm-e : hence that which is lifeless and quiescent, the form, with 
that which is living and moving, the word ; the word, the audible, the 
living, with the space, the visible, the movement ; the inward with the 
more outward; and the reverse. 

Now the more precise the opposite is, if it yet corresponds to the 
nature which is opposite to it, the clearer is also the impression, and 
the more securely does the scholar hold it fast. 


In the case before us it is x)articiilaiiy important for the scholar to 
beat with his own hand, because the actual and audible size of the 
word is thus made perceptible to the, feeling. 

Proceed as above with words of three, four, and five parts. 

When the scholars have finished the correct denoting and numeri- 
cal defining of the parts, the teacher says : — 

" Words with which we can make one beat, or count one, are called 
words of one syllable.'" 

" What are words with which we can make one beat, or count one, 

Continuing in the same way up to five. 

" Xame several words of one syllable." 

So with words of two, three, four, five and more syllables. 

Now, without choice of the number of syllables, the scholars will 
give words of one or more syllables, in order to determine the number 
of the syllables ; or the teacher Avill determine the number of the 
syllables, and the scholars must seek out words having that number ; 
lastly, the boys must themselves determine the words as well as decide 
upon the number of syllables of each. 

When the scholars can readily determine the parts, the instruction 

Hitherto the size of the word was determined by the number of its 
syllables ; but the nature and significance of the word depends not so 
much upon its size as upon the kind of its individual parts and their 

Here the first remark which urges itself upon our notice is, that 
there can be no syllable, and therefore no word, among the parts of 
which there is not at least one voice-sound (vowel), and that there- 
fore the voice-sound makes, as it were, the soul or the spirit of each 

That the scholar may himself perceive this law of language, he 
must now go through with the following exercises. 

The teacher utters a word of one syllable which ends with a voice- 
sound, and, after he has pronounced the word, makes the sound itself 
especially prominent. 

" Go, the voice-sound o." 

Teacher and scholars together, " Go, the voice-sound 6." 

In like manner other words of one syllable ending with the voice- 
sounds u, a, e, i, etc., are pronounced ; and these sounds are brought 
out to individual perceptions. 

^iA^ AS A SCHOLAR. 257 

If the scholars are ah-eady so far advanced that they can easily 
separate the voice-sound from the other parts of the word, the teacher 
can begin immediately with the stage which now follows, that is, he 
can utter words of one syllable which have the voice-sound at the end, 
and let them discover the sound themselves. 

Teacher, " /So." 

Teacher and scholars together, " So." 

That word and voice-sound may become clear to the children, and 
fixed on their minds, it is well that each should be spoken two or 
three times. 

Now teacher questions, "So; the voice-sound?" 

Scholars answering together, " o." 

This question and answer also can be repeated two or three times. 

In the same way several words ending in the same voice-sound are 
brought forward, first by one, and then by all of the scholars. The 
same method is carried out with all the other voice-somids. 

In the same way words of one syllable are now brought forward 
which hecjin with the voice-sound, followed by such words as have the 
voice-sound in the middle. 

All this must certainly make the scholars individually sure in dis- 
covering and determining the voice-sound. Should, however, some of 
the scholars be still uncertain, the teacher should try in the future 
exercises to destroy this uncertainty, and must keep a sharp eye on 
these scholars especially. 

By the previous exercises the scholar was led to determine with 
certainty the voice-sound in words of one syllable. 

The teacher now asks the scholars : — 

" Is there any word of one syllable which contains no voice- 
sound ? " 

They answer to this in concert and repeatedly, " There is no word 
of one syllable which does not contain a voice-sound." 

In the same way the voice-sounds in words of two and more sylla- 
bles are brought to the definite knowledge of the scholar. 

In order to avoid confusion, it is well to hold fast the voice-sounds 
of the first and second syllables, while those of the remaining sylla- 
bles alternate. 

The laws which find a place here will be easily perceived by an 
observant teacher ; and, if his scholars are fitted to receive recapitulat- 
ing laws, he can make them observe them. 

Should the scholars be now still too undeveloped to comprehenci 


these laws, prominence will be first given them w^hen they recur the 
second or third time. 

That the slower or more extended, and the quicker or more com- 
prehensive procedure with the course depends upon the scholar's 
power of comprehension, and that in the former case single exercises 
are to be interpolated, w^hile in the latter case, single exercises are to 
be quickly ended, need be said only to the teacher w^ho is just begin- 
ning the W'Ork of instruction. 

As before the number of the syllables w^as determined by the 
teacher, and the scholars w^ere required to discover suitable words, so 
noW' the voice-sounds and their sequence are given and determined by 
the teacher, and the scholars are required to seek out the correspond- 
ing words ; for instance : — 

Teacher, "oy, i, y." 

Scholars, " Boyishly," etc. 

The bodies of the voice-sounds (consonants) are brought to the 
knowledge of the scholar in the same w^ay that the vowels were. 

The teacher says, " Moo." 

Scholars (repeating several times in concert), "Moo." "Try to 
say the word moo, but without the oo." They try it ; the pure 
sound m becomes audible. 

In the same way several other w^ords of one syllable beginning 
with m, and ending with a vowel-sound (such as maT/, my, or mow) are 
given, and the sound m noticed in each. 

" Does m sound like any of the voice-sounds which you have - 
learned to know V " 


" But what can be said of the audible m ? " 

"It sounds closed." 

" Now what can and must we call m in contrast with the voice- 
sounds ? " 

" A closed sound." 

Together, " m is a closed sound." 

" Say new." 

" New ; new ; new." 

" Try to say new without the sound ew'* 

Together, " 7i ; n ; n." 

" Where shall w^e class the w, with the voice-sounds or with the 
open sounds? " — " With the open sounds." 

Together, " n is an open sound." 


In like manner the ng is brought forward. 

"Make the sound n audible, and find which of your organs of 
speech are particularly and essentially active." 

"Do the same with the sound ng." 

" What must therefore these sounds be called ? " 


" How can they be distinguished from one another? " 

" As soft and sharp nose-sounds." " Why ? " 

" By what organs of speech, and with what use of these organs, 
are the sharp nose-sound n, and the soft nose-sound ng, brought 

In the same way the scholar is brought to the individual percep- 
tion and knowledge of each consonant. 

Now in certain sequences, and also without precise connection, 
single directions are given to the scholars, and single questions asked 
of them ; for instance : — 

" Make the sharp tongue-sound." 

" How do you bring out the soft tooth-sound ? " " Show me what 
you do with your organs of speech to make the soft and the sharp 
closed lip-sounds." Etc. 

Little as it is possible to represent the inner relationship and active 
connection of even only the primitive parts of words which compose 
language on a surface by lifeless grouping, as this developing course 
of instruction presents it to the scholar, yet this may stand for an 
indication, though only a slight one. 

Voice Sounds. 


a o u 


eu oy 

0/;en Sounds. 
Lung-sound, h. Throat-sound, g hard. 

Dull . . 








Sharp . . 
Soft . , 

. . n 

. . ng 

• P 






Closed Sounds. 

Lip-sounds. Teeth-sounds. Palate-sounds. 

Soft b th X 

Dull m d g 

[The letters in which two organs of speech are used must be 
determined by the teacher ; enough has been given to show Froebel's 
idea. — Tr.] 

By means of the instruction hitherto given, the pupil is now so 
far advanced that he can recognize with exactness and certainty each 
element of a word ; that he can point out each and make it audible 
and perceptible according to its nature ; also that he is not only con- 
scious of the activity of the organs of speech by which each element 
respectively is produced, but can give an account of it to himself and 

The next stage of this instruction brings this capacity to dexterity 
and certainty by practice, which is given in manifold ways. 

The teacher pronounces words indiscriminately, and lets the 
scholars make the syllables and elements of these words audible and 
perceptible ; 

He lets them name the S3^11ables in their sequence ; or 

The teacher utters several parts of words in a certain sequence, 
and lets the scholars form the word from these. 

These latter exercises, however, will advance in definite succession 
from the simple and easy to the compound and difficult. However, 
every observant and thinking teacher can make such a series for him- 
seK, and the more active the teacher himself is, — I might say the more 
he hopes and strives to learn more himself, and the more he seeks to 
promote the wholeness of the instruction, — the more valuable will it 
become to him, and the more rich in blessing will it be to his scholars. 

With this certainty, readiness, and clearness concerning all the 
elements of words in respect to their use and their grouping, and also 
especially in respect to their inner necessary vivid connection, this 
instruction at this stage of the boy's development is concluded when 
the length and shortness of the vowel-sounds in the syllables (not the 
length and shortness of the syllables themselves) have been brought 
forward and distinguished, which at this stage is particularly impor- 
tant for the writing which now follows. 

At the following and later stage of instruction there goes out at 
this point a new branch, namely, the consideration which renders the 


scholar conscious of the length and shortness of the syllables, and 
thus of the laws of movement contained in the words, and the mani- 
fold connections to parts and wholes of movement thereby condi- 

The requirement which presents itself at this stage of instruction 
and as instruction is that of connecting the elements of words with 
certain signs, of making the audible transitory speech visible and 
abiding ; that is, the necessity for ivrit'mg presents itself. 



Section 102. 

By writing and instruction in writing is here understood by no 
means fine writing and writing as an art, but merely the readiness 
and skill to make the transitory, audible words visible and abiding by 
means of corresponding signs which always remain the same ; and thus 
to make it possible for one's self and others later, by looking at these 
signs and their connection, not only to think of the same words, and' 
thus of the same ideas, but also to utter the same words either to 
one's self or others in order in the hearing, to call forth again the 
same first ideas, conceptions, and perceptions to which they owe their 
peculiar connections ; this is reading, more of which will be given in 
the following section. 

The more important consideration with this instruction in writing 
is the choice of the characters ; they must necessarily have the follow- 
ing properties : — 

They must have a peculiar form for each element, must therefore 
be easily distinguishable from one another, and yet, like the elements 
themselves, they must stand in a certain connection with one another, 
or at least point to such a connection. 

The original Roman, the old Latin, or the old Phoenician script, 
as it appears when divested of all ornament, shows a certain con- 

If you describe a square, in this a circle, diagonal lines from the 
corners of the square, straight lines from the halves of the sides and 
also parallel to these, then from the two upper angles of the square 


oblique lines toward the middle of the lower side, and in the same 
way from the two lower angles tow^ard the middle of the upper side, 
and finally draw through the just-named middles of the upper and 
lower sides and through the middle point of the whole aline returning 
upon itself in the form of a somewhat compressed 8 ; all the characters 
of the oldest Roman, or, if you prefer to call it so, the Phoenician 
script, can be noted in this truly symmetrical whole with very slight 
imagination, and in a very recognizable way. 

This outward connection of these written characters (similar to 
an anagram) may indeed scarcely coincide with then- original inner 
coherence. This is nothing to the purpose; ujitil the true inner 
coherence of the original written characters, of which I have no doubt, 
has been discovered, the symmetrical whole above described will at 
least outwardly show the scholar the possibility of such a coherence. 

It sufiices to know that the Latin capitals at least appear, by means 
of this whole, in outward coherence and outward unity. 

Besides, it is a peculiar fact, and one that should not be overlooked, 
that the Latin capitals make a very agreeable and particularly satis- 
factory impression upon the younger boys. 

The most essential point in the use of the characters above named 
for the first writing is, that these written signs are easily understood 
by the scholars at this stage, and can be easily and quickly repre- 
sented according to the different positions and lengths of the vertical, 
horizontal, and oblique lines already so much used. 

The instruction in writing, directly joining the exercises of 
speech, and actually proceeding from them as a necessary condition, 
is as follows : — 

The teacher first develops the necessity of the individual writing 
signs, in his scholars, by leading them to perceive that not only the 
knowledge of the precise signs for the simple elements of words, but 
also skill in the use and combination of these signs is required. 

The writing itself is done on the often-mentioned squared slate ; it 
begins with that one of the written characters which is the easiest to 
represent, — a vertical line denoting the vowel i. 

The teacher begins : — 

" Sound the voice-sound i several times." 

The scholars do so, ''i; i; i." 


"Make on yoiu- slates three times a vertical line of two-fold 
length, and say after making each, ' This denotes the voice-somid /.' " 

The scholars do so. 

" I , this denotes the voice-sonnd ?." 

" I , this denotes the voice-somid ^ ; " etc. 

" You have now made, three times, the form which denotes the 
voice-sound i." 

" AVhat have you done ? " 

"Each of you may make on his slate several times more the form 
which denotes the voice-sound i." 

"Make on your slate a vertical line of two-fold length." [The 
teacher always does the same on the blackboard, after the scholars 
have done it on the slates.] " From the upper end of this line draw 
down a w^iole slanting line of two-fold length ; from the lower end of 
this line draw a vertical line upward." 

" Have you done it ? " 

" What have you done ? " 

" We have," etc. 

" Make this sign three times on j^our slates, and say each time, 'This 
denotes the open sound n.' " 

" Say the word m three times." 

" What are the elements of the word in ? " 

" The voice-sound i, and the sharp nose-sound 7z." 

" Can you make the signs for both ? " 

" Now write three times the word m." 

They wi'ite : — 

IN — IN — IN — 

[The teacher observes whether it is correctly written ; then effaces 
all, and requires them to w^rite the same word several more times. It 
is well as soon as possible, while the signs are still few, to introduce 
the following questions.] 

"How many written signs (or letters) have you now? " 
" Can you make any other words wdth these letters ? " 
Should the names of the letters have already obtruded themselves, 
it is well to keep them as much as possible in the background, so that 
the thing itself may make a firmer impression on the mind of the 
scholar ; but as the name comes in as a demand not to be rejected, it 
may be written several times as a name, so that the scholar may grasp 
and hold fast the distinction between the thing itself (the vowel or 


consonant), the name of the thing (for example, en), and the sign 
for the thing (for example, N), and never confound them. To early- 
impress this three-fold distinction on the scholars is very important 
for the following instruction. 

The teaching continues : — 

"ei ; ei ; ei. ^ — Repeat this voice-sound several times." 

"Is the voice-sound ei a simple sound?" 

"No; it is a compound sound." This the exercises in speech 

Since it is not a simple sound, it is well to denote it, not by a simple, 
but by a compound sign. 

The teacher, waiting : — 

" This is the sign for the ei, 


"What lines form the sign El, and how are they joined together?" 

"Write these signs several times, and pronounce each time the 
voice-sound ei." 

" What have you done ? " 

" How many signs or letters can you now WTite ? " 

" Three, - I - N - El." 

" What words can you write with these ? " 

Teacher and scholars find together, first the words ah'eady written, 
then the words made possible by the new sign. 

" Good ; we will write them." 

" What elements make each of the \\'ords ? " 

" Write each of these words three times." 

" How many words can you now write ? " 

" What words can you now write ? " 

" Write all the words that you can, one, two, three times." 

[At the beginning of each lesson at least, all the words which were 
newly written in the last are repeated.] 

" Pronounce the voice-sound u several times." 

The teacher writes U, and says, at the same time, " This is the 
sign for the voice-sound w." 

" Write this sign also several times." 

" "What words can you now write with this, and the signs you have 
before made ? " 

1 Ei, which in English is a digraph, is, in German, a diphthong. The remarks and 
questions concerning it are retained to show tlie proper mode of procedure with our own 
diphthongs. — Tr. 


Teacher and scholars find words together. 

All these words are analj'zed and written. 

" Proceed in the same way with the voice-sound o." 

" Make a line of two-fold length ; from the upper end of it a half- 
slanting line of single length; from the lower end of this draw up 
toward the right a half-slanting line of the same length; from the 
upper end of this, draw a vertical line of two-fold length." 

" Have you done it ? " 

" What have you done ? " 

" You have made the sign for the closed sound m." 

" What have you made V " 

" Write several times on your slates the sign for the closed sound 
m, and say each time, ' This denotes the closed sound m ' ; or make 
the sound every time you write the sign." 

" Write several times the closed sound m" 

Proceed in the same way with the voice-sound a ; this gives a?i, 
and man. 

The course of instruction continues to advance in the simplest 

" Make the rolling tongue-sound r, r, r." 

The teacher writes R on the blackboard, says as above, and 
requires the scholars to write this sign several times. 

'• What words can you now write with this sign, and those which 
you have before made?" Teacher and scholars find the words 
together. They now progress to v ; from that to w ; then to I ; to &, to 
t, to I', etc., etc., in accordance with the law of advancing from the 
easier to the more difficult ; but especially on account of the immedi- 
ately following connection of reading-print. 

The most important point of this course of instruction, which is, 
however, as easily recognized as represented, is that the boy never 
learns any thing which he is not immediately required to use in many 
ways ; for it is a law of the instruction that every newly-learned letter 
must be connected with all the former ones ; that is, that the scholar 
must seek out all the words whicli can be written with this new letter 
and those which were previously learned. This gives new charm and 
life to the instruction. 

From the words of one syllable we advance to those of two and 
more syllables by a way of teaching as easy to define as to represent. 


When the schoLirs are tolerably assured in tlie visible representation 
of each word which they have heard, spoken, or only thought, words are 
enunciated without any great choice, which the scholars must write ; 
or the scholars are allowed to write words, and soon little thoughts as 
they occur. When the boys have advanced to this point, they are 
required to copy on paper all which they have written on the slate, 
and which the teacher has examined ; this is made the rule of the 
school. This also gives at once a ready means of employing the boys 
w^iose work has been already examined by the teacher while he is cor- 
recting the work of the other scholars ; for it need scarcely be said, 
that the correction must always be done by the scholars themselves 
under the direction of the teacher. It is also very advisable with 
this, as with similar instruction, that the advanced scholar, who to a 
certain extent is, in this respect, superior to another, should sit by the 
other, and be charged wdth examining and correcting the w^ork of his 
weaker companion. This proceeding has a many-sided inward and 
outward utility which can scarcely be established by words : first, all 
the scholars are kept constantly employed ; secondly, the weaker ones 
are impelled by it to emulate the stronger ; and thirdly, the stronger, 
by this means, tests what he knows and can do, thereby coming to the 
knowledge of what is yet lacking to him js for it cannot but be that 
the teacher will frequently notice mistakes w^hich have been overlooked 
by the correcting scholar, or rather which he has not recognized as 
such. Xo prominence need at first be given to the fact that this 
instruction in writing leads directly to actual writing, and prevents 
this teaching, now as wearisome as it is difficult, from being a tedious 
independent subject of instruction. 

This instruction is closed when the scholar can readily represent in 
this way all the ideas and thoughts of which he is conscious within 
the circle of his life, and can thus, as it were, represent his inner life 
itself (this is similar to the stage of representation of line, color, and 
w^ord-wholes previously recognized with the line, color, and language 
exercises) ; for man, the middle, the general point of reference, is found, 
and the representation of his inner nature is made possible at and in 
his first stage ; there, by lines and colors, as before by movable and 
plastic material, and, as here, by w^ord ; there, with the language 
exercises by the vanishing, here, by the abiding w^ord. Thus each 
stage of the instruction must, in a certain respect, be a whole in itself, 
a whole representation of the inner nature of man. It must make 
possible the representation of some kind of a whole in refei-ence and 
relation to the inner nature of man. 


By this requirement just mentioned, namely, that the scholar must 
transcribe upon paper in its corrected state what he has represented 
on the squared slate as his own ideas or his own perceptions, and which 
has been corrected for him by a more advanced pupil (which has a 
many-sided but easily conceivable utility), the boy is soon led to the 
essential need of a quicker way of "\^Titing. This, therefore, is now 
the point at which the learning to wTite our current hand appears as a 
branch of instruction ; for, as has been already said, each new instruc- 
tion should be linked with the need for it in the boy, and should 
meet this need. The province of the earlier and preceding instruction, 
and the demand made upon it, is to develop the need for each follow- 
ing and necessary instruction with precision and activity, in the boy. 
The province of the later instruction, and the demand made upon it, 
is, on the contrary, to meet those awakened earlier needs as soon, as 
exhaustively, and as satisfyingly as is possible in accordance with the 
laios of spiritual health. Om- present manner of instruction and teach- 
ing vip to this moment fails in these two simple and essential points, 
as well as in other essential points which clearly proceed from what 
has been hitherto expressed and brought forward. Xot only to bring 
this want to unequivocal recognition and insight, but also immediately 
to set up a course of teaching which avoids these errors, is the require- 
ment of the art of instruction toward which, not only we, but the 
whole human race, at the stage of manly development at which it now 
stands, needs to strive, and toward which we also, being conscious of 
om-selves and the time in which we live, need to strive. 


Section 103. 

Reading is the pure reverse of writing. Writing and reading are 
as opposite as giving and taking, and as taking presupposes a giving, 
indeed, as, strictly speaking, one neither may nor can take any thing, 
indeed cannot at all understand how to take any thing, cannot receive 
and use what is taken, if one has not beforehand actually given, so 
from this point of view also the reading must come later than the 
writing in the case before us. 


The course of instruction proceeds necessarily from the nature of 
the thing, and is just as easy to recognize as to represent ; for the boy 
can actually already read according to the priniitive and subordinate 
idea which is connected with this word. Keading was already the 
second inseparable act with every word which the boy has hitherto 
written ; an act of which special use was made when he later copied 
what he had himself thought or seen. 

Reading, in the usual sense and according to the usual school- 
meaning, that is, reading printed letters and words, is now very easily 
attained, and what would otherwise have been scarcely accomplished 
in more than a year, and by burdening the boy, he can now very easily 
accomplish in a few days with pleasure. 

The first thing necessary is that the like significance of the small 
printed letters with the Roman capitals hitherto used for writing 
should be recognized. It is not sufficient merely to place them side 
bv side, and say, for instance, / is /, o is 0, u is U, etc., but it is espe- 
cially important to demonstrate how the principal strokes of one kind 
of letter are contained in the other, which is very possible if a little 
attention be paid to it. 

With the further progress of learning to read print, any reading- 
book can be used. 

As a means of connection between writing with the often-defined 
script and reading print, it is very useful to have the scholars first 
WTite certain exercises from the reading-book upon the squared slates 
with the script hitherto used, and then read them in the reading-book 
with comparison. 

The point which the boy must reach by this instruction at this 
stage of his total development is that he read precisely and clearly 
with correct utterance of letters and words ; and that he also point 
out the different kinds of separations and consequent groupings con- 
ditioned by the connection ; and also indicate different pauses by their 
length, and keep them in mind. The boy is thereby developed to such 
an extent that it is possible for him to appropriate to himself the 
thoughts of others ; to test his own thoughts and sensations by the 
thoughts and sensations of others ; and thus to raise himself to each 
possible stage of development and cultivation conditioned by human 
nature as well as by his own individual nature. In accordance with 
its nature the higher descriptive reading is postponed to the following 
stage of development. 


survey and conclusion of the whole. 

Section 104. 

We have thus delineated man from the beginning of his existence, 
as he becomes and appears, on all the sides and in all the stages 
and conditions of the development of his nature up to the stage 
of boyhood and within it ; we have also brought before our view, in 
their inner living coherence, in their necessary reciprocal condition- 
ing, and natural ramifications, and in their whole importance, the 
means by which man can and will be developed in this space of time 
which is under consideration, in a manner corresponding to and 
satisfying the requisition of this space of time, and that of his whole 
nature, if his aim be completeness. 

If we now survey all that has been hitherto recognized and 
expressed in reference to this, we see that many phenomena in the 
life of the boy have as yet by no means a particular, precise direction. 
So, for example, the employment with colors has by no means as yet 
in view the training of a painter ; and just as little has the emplo}''- 
ment with tune and song the object of training a musician. But these 
employments aim at and produce, first of all, in man, an all-sided 
development and presentation of his nature ; they are, in general, the 
needful food for the spirit ; they are the ether in which the spirit 
breathes and lives that it may gain power, strength, and, I might add, 
extent, because the spiritual qualities given by God to man, which 
proceed from his spirit in all directions with irresistible necessity, 
necessarily appear as manifoldness, and must be satisfied as such, and 
met in manifold directions. 

Wherefore we might at some time conceive that we have a very 
disturbing influence on the boy's nature by too much repressing and 
suppressing those necessary, many-sided directions of the spirit in the 
human being as he advances toward maturity ; by even believing that 
we do a service to God and man, especially to the boy himself, that 
we favor his future earthly welfare, inner peace, and heavenly salva- 
tion, by cutting off these directions and those qualities of the spirit, 
and especially by then ingrafting and cramming others in their 


God does not cram and graft ; therefore the human spirit, as a 
divine spirit, must not be crammed. But God develops the smallest 
and the most incomplete in constantly advancing succession, accord- 
ing to eternal laws founded in and developing from themselves. And 
God-likeness should be man's highest aim in thought and action, 
especially when he stands in fatherly relations to his children, as God 
does to man. 

AVe should finally, in reference to the education of our children, 
thoughtfully reflect upon the fact that the kingdom of God is the 
kingdom of the spiritual ; that therefore the spiritual in man, and con- 
sequently in our children, is at least a part of the spiritual kingdom, 
that is, of the kingdom of God, and that therefore the geiieral cultiva- 
tion of the spiritual in man, in our children, is the cultivation of that 
which is actually human, that is, of the divine as an isolated phenome- 
non ; and we should devote our attention to it as such, being con- 
vinced that each one who has been genuinely formed to a human 
being is then also educated for each single requisition, for each single 
need in civil and social life. 

We may now say, indeed, " This is all very good, but it is no longer 
applicable to our sons; the application and use of it is too late for 
them, for they are already in the last quarter of boyhood. What are 
they now to do with this wholly general and fundamental instruction ? 
They must necessarily receive definite individual instruction directly 
bearing upon their future vocation ; for the time of their entrance 
into civil life, the time when they must think of earning their living, 
or assisting us in our business, is too near." 

We are right ; our sons are old for what they have yet to learn. 

But why have we not given them as children and in the beginning 
of boyhood what their spirits must require ? 

Shall the boys now lose this development and training for their 
whole lives ? 

We now sa}^, " When the boys are grown up, they can retrieve all 
that ; they will then have enough time free for that." 

Fools that we are ! When we say this, we are contradicted by our 
inner nature, if we will only listen to, and attend to the significance 
of what it says. Here and there, something may be retrieved, to 
determine which does not belong here ; but in general what has been 
omitted and neglected in the education and development of man in 
boyhood is never retrieved. 

Do we as men and fathers, and perhaps also as mothers, not wish 


to be sincere at* last, and do we wish to hide from ourselves the never- 
healing wounds which bleed all through life, or the callous places in 
our minds, never again to be softened, or the dark spots upon our 
souls (caused by wiping away noble, estimable sensations and 
thoughts) from which our souls can never again be clear, all which is 
produced by the misguidance and misleading of our youth and espe- 
cially of our boyhood ? 

Do we not wish to see in ourselves all the noble germs which were 
pressed out, caused to decay, and even killed in the mind of man at 
that stage of life ? 

Will we not confess this to om'selves, and consider this for the 
benefit of our children ? 

We have an important charge ; we have an extended vocation ; we 
have a profitable business; we have versatility of life; we rejoice in 
fine, polished, social training ; can all this prevent the gaps and 
patches of om- inner training from coming before our souls when we 
question them, and can it destroy in us the feeling of this condition of 
inner training which is caused chiefly by the imperfection and incom- 
pleteness of our youthful education ? 

Therefore, if we would have our sons become capable, whole 
men, if they are already even in the last third or fourth stage of 
boyhood, and have not yet learned and developed what they should 
have learned and developed in childhood and boyhood, they must 
necessarily return to childhood and to the beginning of boyhood in 
order at least not to continue to delay doing what is still possible 
to do, and to retrieve what it is yet possible to retrieve. 

It may indeed be that our sons will come a year or two later to 
that at which they aim, but is it not far better that they should come 
to a true aim than to a false one ? 

We wish to be live men, and do we so little understand the requi- 
sition of true, genuine life ? ^Ve wish to be men of business, and men 
who understand our calculations, and do we so little understand the 
business which yet lies so near to each, and can we so very badly cal- 
culate in circumstances so highly important ? 

We pride ourselves on being so rich in the experience of life, and 
yet this experience shows itself so little where we might reap the 
refreshing fruits of it. 

We generally disdain to cast back into our own youth the examin- 
ing glance from which we could learn so much that would be a bless- 
ing to us and to our children ; for this requisition also — " turn back 


observantly into your own youth, and awaken, w^arm,- and vivify the 
eternal youth of your mind " — lies in the words of Jesus, — become as 
little children. 

As it is generally true that much that Jesus said in his time and 
to his companions, the Spirit also now says to us and to our time, and 
as generally in all human references with regard to the whole human 
race, ^^hat was said in the time of Jesus, and especially what was said 
at the beginning of a quite new view of life, finds its application to 
the attainment of a new and higher stage of human perfection, and is, 
as it were, repeatedly spoken anew to the w^hole human race, so now 
is said also to us, " If you wall not fulfil in youi'selves and in your 
children all which man spiritually requires at the stage of childhood 
and boyhood, if you will not give this to yourselves and to your 
children, you wall not attain w^hat has swelled and swells your hoping 
soul in the happiest, most blessed times of your life ; that for which 
your heart longed with deep, yearning sighs in the noblest hours of 
your life ; and which swells and ever swelled the souls of the noblest 
men, and filled and now fills their hearts." 

If w^e now reduce to a point the stages and the aim of the cultiva- 
tion W'hich man has attained by the manner of developing education 
and instruction hitherto brought forward, we perceive with great 
clearness the fact that the boy has come to the point of divining his 
independent spiritual self; he feels and recognizes himself as a 
spiritual whole. There is roused in him the capacity of taking in a 
■whole, as well in its unity as in its manifoldness ; and there has ger- 
minated in him the capacity of outwardly representing a whole as 
such, and in its necessary parts, and of representing himself in his 
unity, and in the manifoldness of his nature, in and by manifoldness. 

We therefore find and recognize man as already fitted even in boy- 
hood for the highest and most important task of life, — the fulfilment 
of his destiny, his vocation, the representation of the divine nature 
withm him. 

The future life of man in corresponding stages of his development 
and cultivation from boyhood to manhood is devoted to raising this 
capacity to skill and certainty, to consciousness, to insight, and clear- 
ness, to a freely-chosen life. The continuation of this work, and the 
life of the writer, are devoted to demonstrating the way and means 
for this, and to introducing these into life and in actuality. And as 
boys of the age to which this book belongs, of fresh spirit, glad 
courage, joyous mind, and happy life, who, dui-ing the writing of the 


book entered the educating circle from which it proceeds, and who 
mostly surrounded the writer during his writing, playing, never 
becoming weary, requiring ever new satisfying and nourishment of 
their impulses to activity and life, and so freely forming their being 
from themselves, are his security (if an outward security be needed) 
that he has written the truth ; they are also his secmity that he will 
write the truth. 

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1137 D117b33 

Wheelock College Library 


Yoebel - Qog^ 


The education_ofl_mani . — 


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The education of man. F9^e2 

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Wheelock College Library 

Boston, Mass.