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 MOTHER PLAY (Mutter und Kose Lieder). By Sl>an E. Blow. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & Co., Publishers, 73 Fifth Av 
 
IXTERNA TIONA L ED fTCA TION SERIES 
 
 THE ' ' '' ' ''' ^' 
 
 MOTTOES AND COMMENTARIES 
 
 OF FRIEDRICH FROEBEL'S 
 MOTHER PLAY 
 
 MOTHER COMMUNINGS AND MOTTOES RENDERED INTO 
 ENGLISH VERSE BY 
 
 HENRIETTA R. ELIOT 
 
 PROSE COMMENTARIES TRANSLATED AND ACCOMPANIED 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION TREATING OF THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF FROEBEL, BY 
 
 SUSAN E. BLOW 
 
 "Deep meaning oft lies hid in childish play^' 
 
 SCIIXLLKR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1895 
 
^■%^<s 
 
 7 
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed 
 
 AT THE APPLETON PrESS, U. S. A. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 The publishers of this series take great pleas- 
 ure in offering to the kindergarten public, and 
 to teachers generally, these volumes containing a 
 new version of Froebel's Mutter und Kose Lie- 
 der, or songs and games for the mother with 
 her child. This is justly regarded as the key to 
 the philosophy of the kindergarten and as the 
 manual of its practice. Miss Blow has drawn 
 upon all the resources of her experience and 
 study to make this edition a perfect handbook 
 for English-speaking mothers and teachers. She 
 has enlisted the talent of the poets for children 
 to translate with taste and discrimination Froe- 
 bel's rhymes. She has been fortunate in getting 
 so many translations from Mrs. Emily Hunting- 
 ton Miller, whose poems have the simplicity, com- 
 pactness, and beauty of old English ballads. New 
 music has been prepared by persons who have 
 established reputation as composers of music for 
 children's songs. The quaint and instructive il- 
 lustrations prepared under Froebel's supervision 
 have been reproduced from the beautiful edition 
 of Wichard Lange, now out of print and not easy 
 
yiii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 to obtain. Miss Blow has added a prose transla- 
 tion of the mottoes, in order that none of the 
 subtle meanings of Froebel may escape because 
 of the difiBculty of presenting them in poetic 
 dress. 
 
 Finally, the commentaries have been given in 
 as clear prose as can be written. In fact, this 
 work is something more than a translation. The 
 ideas of Froebel are transplanted into English 
 and made to express themselves in English as if 
 they had been thought and expressed here for the 
 first time. 
 
 To those who know the difficulties in the way 
 of such an achievement this will seem marvel- 
 lous. The former translators have struggled val- 
 iantly to seize the subtle thoughts of Froebel 
 and to imitate his sometimes uncouth rhymes. 
 In many cases the difficulties have been so great 
 as to defy the translator. The necessities of 
 rhyme and metre have rendered it impossible 
 to preserve the thoughts literally. On the other 
 hand, when the translator has been tempted to 
 follow too literally the German version the Eng- 
 lish poetic form resulting is often something else 
 than beautiful. Froebel was not a poet so much 
 as a religious mystic. He had a prophetic cast 
 of mind, and his ideas would have been better 
 expressed in prose were it not for the purpose of 
 adapting them to music. He was able to see 
 symbols; but poetry is something more than 
 symbolism. He lacked the true poetic sense 
 which can find appropriate forms of personifica- 
 tion for ideas. Poetry transfigures natural ob- 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. ix 
 
 jects and endows them with souls. The symbol 
 only reveals a correspondence between a lower 
 and a higher order of truth. Froebel, as master 
 of the symbol, possessed an almost preternatural 
 insight into educational values. This it was that 
 led him to the pedagogics of the kindergarten. 
 It is not to be supposed that his providential 
 work would have been better accomplished had 
 he been of a poetic turn of mind. He would in 
 that case have avoided, it is true, the prosaic and 
 trifling, but he would likely have missed the edu- 
 cational insights. 
 
 It is for us who profit through the labours of 
 Froebel to carefully discriminate between the 
 good and the bad. An unwise discipleship 
 would copy him literally, and take special pains 
 to mimic all his false notes. But such a follow- 
 ing would prove an enemy of Froebel's cause. 
 
 It has happened that most of the literal imi- 
 tations of Froebel's poetry have contributed in a 
 greater or less degree to ruin the poetic sense of 
 teachers and pupils. Goethe has pointed out that 
 the uncouth rhymes and tasteless symbols of the 
 Herrnhut congregation, although intended for 
 the promotion of piety, yet in the end perverted 
 the literary taste, and finally discredited their 
 religious ideas when the world came to see the 
 grotesqueness of their expressions. If the disci- 
 ples burlesque their own doctrines, how can they 
 expect them to prevail in the community ? 
 
 For example, the Closing Thoughts (Schluss- 
 lied) of the Mother Play are grotesque in poetic 
 form, being essentially prosaic in substance, for 
 
X EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 they form only a philosophic summary of the 
 ideas of the book, and not a picture of Nature ren- 
 dered transparent by metaphor and personifica- 
 tion. A rhymed multiplication table or a rhymed 
 grammar is a sacrilege committed against the 
 sacred form of poetry. Miss Blow has therefore 
 given this summary in prose in the Appendix. 
 
 The publishers have substituted volumes of 
 convenient size for the somewhat cumbersome 
 music-book style of volume. A separation of the 
 contents to adapt the material to two volumes has 
 brought together in the first volume the mottoes, 
 the commentary, and an appendix containing kin- 
 dred matter. This makes what we may call the 
 mother's volume, since it contains prose and po- 
 etry not suitable for reading to the children. The 
 second volume contains the songs and the music 
 which the children are to sing in their games. 
 
 The pictures, as before stated, have been re- 
 produced from the best edition, that of Wichard 
 Lange, with a few figures redrawn to correct the 
 dropsical appearance of some of the young chil- 
 dren. In the second volume, for the use of the 
 children, certain parts of the pictures have been 
 repeated and enlarged, in order to show the de- 
 tails with greater clearness. 
 
 Miss Blow's introduction explains the relation 
 of Froebel to the great philosophic movement to 
 which he belonged, and especially to the system 
 of Schelling. This view assists one in interpret- 
 ing the obscure points in Froebel's doctrine. All 
 deep writers need, for their full understanding, to 
 have each statement interpreted in the full light 
 
EDITOli'S PREFACE. xi 
 
 of all that they have written. In fact, it often 
 needs a knowledge of all that they have done as 
 well as what they have written, and Miss Blow 
 has well said that the practical exercises of Froe- 
 bel often throw light on his obscure theoretic 
 statements. 
 
 Mrs. Eliot's translation of the mottoes has, at 
 the suggestion of Miss Blow, interwoven with the 
 substance of the original motto many of the ideas 
 that are suggested and worked out in the com- 
 mentaries — a new feature which it is believed will 
 commend itself to the reader. 
 
 The Place of the Kindergarten and the Mother 
 Play. 
 
 For the first four years of the child's life the 
 family education has been all in all for him. He 
 has learned in his first year to hold up his head, 
 to clutch things with his hands, using his thumbs 
 in contraposition to his fingers, and to follow 
 moving objects with his eyes; he has learned 
 smells, and tastes, and sounds, and colours, and 
 the individuality of objects. He has learned to 
 move himself, using his limbs somewhat as a 
 turtle does in crawling. In his second year he 
 has learned to stand alone, and to walk ; to use 
 some words, and to understand the meaning of a 
 great many more. His recognition of colours, 
 soimds, tastes, and touch - impressions has in- 
 creased enormously. He has acquired his first 
 set of teeth, and can use them. Imitation has 
 preceded the acquisition of language. 
 
 In his third and fourth years his knowledge 
 
xii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 of the external world has progressed steadily, 
 powerfully aided, as it is now, by the acquisition 
 of language. For by language the child has be- 
 come able to use the senses of other people as 
 well as his own; for he listens to the accounts 
 of what they have seen, and asks questions inces- 
 santly, to draw out the experience of his parents, 
 older brothers and sisters, attendants, and ac- 
 quaintances. Not only does he learn to see and 
 hear through other people — that is to say, get in- 
 formation of the results of other people's observa- 
 tions — but he begins to use their reflections, and 
 inquires eagerly for explanations. It is a great 
 delight for him to discover that things and events 
 are little sections in endless chains of things and 
 events — little beads, as it were, strung on a great 
 string of causal relation — each thing or event be- 
 ing the effect of some antecedent thing or event, 
 and likewise to become the cause of other things 
 and events to follow it. What a wonderful world 
 this is to the child, as the principle of causality 
 begins to act in his mind, and he wishes to know 
 the why of things and events, wishes to learn in 
 what sense they are means to something else, 
 in what sense they are results of something else ! 
 Now that the child possesses language, and 
 begins to inquire for names — begins to see ideals, 
 and to act to realise them — he can be helped 
 greatly by the kindergarten method of instruc- 
 tion. It should be used first in the house by the 
 mother and the nurse, and afterwards in the 
 school. The kindergarten wisely selects a series 
 of objects that lead to the useful possession of 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xiii 
 
 certain geometric concepts and certain numer- 
 ical concepts, that assist in grasping all things in 
 their inorganic aspects. It provides for his new 
 perception of possibilities or ideals by setting 
 him to work at building. It has a series of occu- 
 pations — building, stick-laying, drawing, perfo- 
 rating paper, embroidery, joining sticks by soaked 
 peas, modelling in clay, weaving, etc. In all these 
 the child finds relations to the fundamental geo- 
 metric shapes that he has learned to know, and 
 he sees with clearness and precision how to realise 
 ideals. 
 
 The kindergarten, in using the gifts and occu- 
 pations, however, does not use the highest and 
 best that Froebel has invented. The peculiar 
 Froebel device is found in the plays and games. 
 Froebel himself wrote the Mutter und Kose 
 Lieder, and explained them with all his subtle 
 philosophy. The child here, in the plays and 
 games, in which all join (pupils and teachers), 
 ascends from the world of Nature to the world of 
 humanity ; from the world of things to the world 
 of self-activity ; from the ma.terial and earthly to 
 the spiritual. Even in the Gifts and Occupa- 
 tions he becomes conscious of his will as a 
 power over matter to convert it to use, and to 
 make it the symbol of his ideals. But in such 
 work he does not fully realise his spiritual sense, 
 because he does not find anything in that work 
 to make him realise the difference between his 
 particular self and his general self. In the plays 
 and games he becomes conscious of this general 
 or social self, and there dawns the higher ideal 
 
xiv EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 of a self that is realised in institutions, over 
 against the special self of the particular indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 In the songs and pantomime the child uses 
 his self-activity to reproduce for himself the 
 activities and occupations of the world of society. 
 He produces a reflection of this world of human 
 life about him, and repeats to himself its motives 
 and its industries, putting himself in the place of 
 the grown-up citizen, and assuming his mode of 
 thinking and acting. By this he attains the new 
 consciousness of a higher self — acting within his 
 particular self, and dictating the customary 
 usages, the conventional forms of politeness, the 
 fashion set for him to follow — and, above all, he 
 begins to have a conscience. Conscience demands 
 unconditional obedience, the sacrifice not only 
 of possessions, but of life, too, in its behest. 
 Here the child climbs up, on this symbolic path- 
 way, through play, to the Absolute Mind. He 
 sees the ideal laws that are absolutely binding 
 above all temporal considerations ; he sees the 
 moral law. The moral law is an entirely differ- 
 ent thing from the laws of matter and motion. 
 The latter relate to dead, inorganic substances, 
 moved from outside and under fate. The former 
 is the law of activity of what is spiritual, the 
 living, the human, the divine. It is the law of 
 self-activity. No self-active being can retain its 
 freedom or self-activity except by conforming to 
 moral law. 
 
 The kindergarten does well when it teaches 
 the Gifts and Occupations, for it deals with the 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xv 
 
 world of means and instrumentalities, and helps 
 the child to the conquest of Nature. It does better 
 with the plays and games, because these are thor- 
 oughly hum-ane in their nature, and they offer to 
 the child in a symbolic form the treasures of ex- 
 perience of the race in solving the problems of 
 life. They make children wise without the con- 
 ceit of wisdom. And there is no philosophy for 
 the young woman to be compared with the phi- 
 losophy that Froebel has put into his work on the 
 mother's plays and games with her children. 
 
 W. T. Harris. 
 
 ■Washington, D. C, June 22, 1895. 
 
PEEFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 The aim of this version of the Mother Play is 
 to render Froebel's thought, and to avoid so far 
 as possible the tautologies, involutions, and cir- 
 cumlocutions of his obscure and laboured style. 
 
 After much reflection, it has seemed wise to 
 give both a prose and a poetic version of the 
 mottoes. The former I have made as nearly 
 literal as possible;* the object of the latter is 
 to present in poetic form the salient thought of 
 each original motto and its accompanying com- 
 mentary. By this plan the reader is brought 
 into contact with Froebel's precise thought, and 
 may at will accept or reject the additions and 
 changes made in the poetic rendering of the 
 mottoes. For my own part, I feel that I cannot 
 too cordially commend Mrs. Eliot's interpreta- 
 tions, or too gratefully acknowledge her patient, 
 efficient, and generous co-operation. 
 
 The translation of the commentaries is in- 
 tentionally free, and I have, wherever possible, 
 woven into the prose the thoughts contained in 
 
 * Appendix. Note V. 
 xvii 
 
xviii PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 Froebel's very unpoetic rhymes. I have rele- 
 gated to the Appendix the commentary on the 
 Illustrated Title-page,* which is one of the worst 
 of Froebel's lapses into artificial symbolism ; the 
 prose translation of the pedagogic rhymes in the 
 commentary to the Flower Song,f and a prose 
 version of the poem entitled Closing Thoughts.^ 
 
 The drawings on the cover of the original 
 Mother Play and the commentary explaining 
 them have been omitted. These drawings and 
 commentary are omitted from the latest German 
 edition of the Mother Play, and in my judgment 
 the book gains by their absence. 
 
 Since writing the Introduction I have been 
 informed by Fraulein Eleonore Heerwart that 
 the motto " Deep meaning oft lies hid in childish 
 play" was not chosen by Froebel. It is, how- 
 ever, given in both the Lange and the Seidel 
 editions of the Mother Play. 
 
 Susan E. Blow. 
 
 Avon, IST. Y., May 14, 189S. 
 
 * Appendix, Note I. f Appendix, Note VI. 
 
 X Appendix, Note VII. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Editor's Preface vii 
 
 Preface by the Translator xvii 
 
 Introduction: Proebel's Philosophy .... 1 
 Mother Communings : 
 
 1. Peelings of a Mother contemplating her Firstborn 
 
 Child 
 
 2. The Mother in Unity with her Child . 
 
 3. The Mother's Joy in beholding her Child 
 
 4. The Mother at Play with her Child . 
 
 5. The Mother observing the Development of her Child 
 
 6. The Mother talking to her Child 
 
 7. The Child at its Mother's Breast 
 Proebel's Introduction to the Commentaries 
 Mottoes and Commentaries 
 
 1. Play with the Limbs 
 
 2. Palling! Palling! 
 
 3. The Weather Vane 
 
 4. All Gone ! . 
 
 5. Taste Song . 
 
 6. Flower Song 
 V.Tiek-Tack . 
 
 8. Mowing Grass 
 
 9. Beckoning the Chickens 
 
 10. Beckoning the Pigeons 
 
 11. The Fish in the Brook 
 
 12. The Target . 
 
 13. Pat-a-Cako . 
 
 14. The Nest . 
 
 xix 
 
 42 
 43 
 44 
 45 
 47 
 48 
 49 
 53 
 
 73 
 
 77 
 
 81 
 
 85 
 
 90 
 
 95 
 
 99 
 
 105 
 
 109 
 
 113 
 
 115 
 
 119 
 
 125 
 
 129 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 15. The Flower Basket 
 
 16. The Pigeon House 
 
 17. Naming the Fingers 
 
 18. The Greeting 
 
 19. The Family 
 
 20. Numbering the Fingers 
 
 21. The Finger Piano 
 23. Happy Brothers and Sisters 
 
 23. The Children on the Tower 
 
 24. The Child and the Moon . 
 
 25. The Little Boy and the Moon 
 
 26. The Little Maiden and the Stars 
 
 27. The Light-bird . 
 
 28. The Shadow Rabbit 
 
 29. Wolf and Wild Pig 
 
 30. The Little Window 
 
 31. The Window.— The Two Windows 
 
 32. The Charcoal Burner 
 
 33. The Carpenter 
 
 34. The Bridge . 
 
 35. The Farmyard Gate 
 The Two Gates . 
 
 36. The Little Gardener 
 
 37. The Wheelwright 
 
 38. The Joiner . 
 
 39. The Knights and the Good Child 
 
 40. The Knights and the Bad Child 
 
 41. The Knights and the Mother 
 43. Hide and Seek . 
 
 43. The Cuckoo 
 
 44. The Toyman and the Maiden.- 
 
 the Boy 
 
 45. The Church 
 
 46. The Little Artist 
 Appendix 
 
 ■The Toyman and 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 135 
 . 139 
 
 . 147 
 . 151 
 . 155 
 . 159 
 . 161 
 . 167 
 . 173 
 . 177 
 . 179 
 . 183 
 . 185 
 . 198 
 . 197 
 . 205 
 . 207 
 . 211 
 . 215 
 . 219 
 . 223 
 . 325 
 . 227 
 . 233 
 . 237 
 . 339 
 . 347 
 . 349 
 . 355 
 . 200 
 
 263 
 367 
 273 
 379 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Illustrated Title Pago 
 
 Mother and Child 50 
 
 Games and Songs : 
 
 Picture 1. Play with the Limbs 73 
 
 
 2. The Weather Vano . 
 
 
 
 
 80 
 
 
 3. All Gone ! . . 
 
 
 
 
 8G 
 
 
 4. Tick-Tack . 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 
 ' 5. Mowing Grass . 
 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 
 ' 6. Beckoning the Chickens 
 
 
 
 
 108 
 
 
 7. Beckoning the Pigeons 
 
 
 
 
 113 
 
 
 8. The Fish in the Brook 
 
 
 
 
 116 
 
 
 9. The Target . 
 
 
 
 
 120 
 
 
 ' 10. Pat-a-Cake . 
 
 
 
 
 124 
 
 
 • 11. The Nest . 
 
 
 
 
 128 
 
 
 ' 12. The Flower Basket 
 
 
 
 
 134 
 
 
 ' 13. The Pigeon House 
 
 
 
 
 138 
 
 
 ' 14. Naming the Fingers . 
 
 
 
 
 148 
 
 
 ' 15. The Greeting 
 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 
 ' 16. The Family 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 154 
 
 
 ' 17. Numbering the Fingers 
 
 
 
 
 158 
 
 
 ' 18. The Finger Piano 
 
 
 
 
 162 
 
 
 ' 19. Happy Brothers and Sisters 
 
 
 
 168 
 
 
 20. The Children on the Tower 
 
 
 
 172 
 
 
 ' 21. The Child and the Moon . 
 
 
 
 176 
 
 
 22. The Little Boy and the Moon 
 
 
 
 178 
 
 
 ' 23. The Little Maiden and the Stars 
 
 
 182 
 
 
 ' 24. The Light-bird . 
 
 
 
 
 186 
 
LIST OP ILIiUSTRxVTlONS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Picture 25. 
 
 The Rabbit on the Wall . . . .194 
 
 " 26. 
 
 The Wolf . 
 
 
 
 . 198 
 
 " 27. 
 
 The Wild Pig . 
 Shadow Pictures 
 
 
 
 
 . 200 
 202, 203 
 
 " 28. 
 
 The Little Window 
 
 
 
 
 . 204 
 
 " 29. 
 
 The Window 
 
 
 
 
 . 206 
 
 " 30. 
 
 The Charcoal Burner 
 
 
 
 
 . 212 
 
 " 31. 
 
 The Carpenter . 
 
 
 
 
 . 216 
 
 " 32. 
 
 The Bridge 
 
 
 
 
 . 220 
 
 " 33. 
 
 The Farmyard Gate 
 
 
 
 222 
 
 " 34. 
 
 The Garden Gate 
 
 
 
 . 224 
 
 " 35. 
 
 The Little Gardener 
 
 
 
 . 228 
 
 " 36. 
 
 The Wheelwright 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 2:!2 
 
 " 37. 
 
 The Joiner . 
 
 
 
 . 236 
 
 " 38. 
 
 The Knights and the Good Child 
 
 . 240 
 
 " 39. 
 
 The Knights and the Bad Child 
 
 . 246 
 
 " 40. 
 
 The Knights and the Jlother 
 
 . 250 
 
 " 41. 
 
 Hide and Seek . 
 
 
 . 254 
 
 " 43. 
 
 The Cuckoo 
 
 
 . 2C0 
 
 " 48. 
 
 The Toyman and the JIaiden 
 
 
 . 202 
 
 ■• 44. 
 
 The Toyman and the Boy . 
 
 
 . 264 
 
 " 45. 
 
 The Church 
 
 
 . 268 
 
 " 40. 
 
 The Little Artist 
 
 
 
 
 . 272 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 fkoebel's philosophy. 
 
 I. The Philosophy or Germany in Feoebel's 
 Time. 
 
 "Beware," says Emerson, "when the great 
 God lets loose a thinker on this planet : then all 
 things are at risk." Something over a century 
 ago, Immanuel Kant, a little old bachelor of 
 Konigsberg, " by whose punctual walk his neigh- 
 bours set their watches," and who " in the ordi- 
 nary sense of the words had neither life nor his- 
 tory," was troubled in spirit over current theories 
 with regard to the nature and source of human 
 knowledge. To-day we live in a world where 
 everything great and small owns his influence. 
 " He conquered for his people the empire of the 
 air." Indirectly, he also gave them their visible 
 empire ; for it was his first great disciple, Fichte, 
 who, fired by the Critique of Practical Reason, 
 created the national school system of Germany, 
 and, by developing the intelligence and rousing 
 the patriotism of his countrymen, set in motion 
 the influences whose outcome has been the polit- 
 ical independence and solidarity of the German 
 
2 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 fatherland.* Through its influence upon the will- 
 ing mind of Schleiermacher, the reluctant mind of 
 Frederick Maurice, and the hostile mind of Car- 
 dinal Newman, the philosophy created by Kant 
 and developed by his successors has leavened 
 the theologies of Germany, England, and Rome. 
 Through Goethe and Schiller it has stamped it- 
 self upon German literature. Through Coleridge 
 and Carlyle it has penetrated English literature. 
 Through New England Transcendentalism it 
 has become a power in American literature. 
 Through the music of Beethoven and Wagner 
 it has stirred in all susceptible souls lofty and 
 mysterious emotions. Through Schelling, Oken, 
 Carus, Oersted, and others it has laid its magic 
 touch upon natural science. Last of all — but, if 
 there be truth in the parable of the mustard seed, 
 perhaps not least of all — it has bent itself to the 
 lowly service of childhood, and, using as its in- 
 
 * " When,during the years of the French domination, it seemed 
 as though the death knell of German nationality had been rung, 
 when cowardly soldiers in masses deserted their flag while the 
 battle raged, Pichte saw that the salvation of Germany lay in 
 the education of her sons. ' Create a nation by national educa- 
 tion !' he cried to the princes of Germany. The princes, at his 
 exhortation, appealed to the people, and freedom from a foreign 
 yoke was their reward. Not Bllicher, not Schornhorst, but 
 Fichte drove the French from the Fatherland. Fichte's deepest 
 conviction was that the idea of the perfect state could only be 
 realized through education. ' The reasonable state,' says he, ' can 
 never be formed from existing material by artificial means ; it 
 must be evolved from the consciousness of an educated people.' 
 The philosopher was the creator of the idea of national educa- 
 tion — in one word, the pedagogic statesman." — WichardLanoe. 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 3 
 
 strumeut the mind of Froebel, is visibly trans- 
 forming the nurseries and infant schools of all 
 civilised lands. 
 
 When Mr. Alcott was asked to define tran- 
 scendentalism, he answered promptly : " It means 
 that there is something in the mind which did 
 not get there through the senses." This defini- 
 tion suggests the point of departure for modern 
 speculative philosophy. Kant could not believe 
 that "all knowledge consists of impressions of 
 the senses and the faint images of these impres- 
 sions called up in memory and thinking." His 
 mind recoiled from the idea that the " ego is only 
 a subjective notion, a unity of the series of impres- 
 sions called myself." He argued that knowledge 
 being a product of two factors — an objective fac- 
 tor given in sensation and a subjective factor due 
 to the constitution of the mind — thought could 
 only arrive at the truth with regard to one fac- 
 tor by eliminating the other. Differently stated, 
 since the mind in the act of cognition sets its 
 own seal upon the data of sense, the removal of 
 the impressed signet is necessary in order to 
 show what the wax may be in itself. Upon in- 
 vestigation the signet turns out to be that of a 
 sovereign, and the wax proves itself of a singular 
 plasticity. Experience, reasons Kant, is partial 
 and contingent. Hence no idea possessing the 
 marks of universality and necessity can have 
 been thence derived. All such ideas bear the 
 royal stamp of mind, and must be native to its 
 constitution. Applying this test, he discovers, 
 doubtless to his own astonishment, that space 
 
4 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 and time must he reckoned among our subjective 
 possessions. "All spatial limitation implies space 
 beyond the limit," * or, differently stated, space is 
 self -limited. Self -limitation is another word for 
 infinitude, and infinitude another word for uni- 
 versality. Since the idea of space involves infini- 
 tude, it cannot by any possibility be derived from 
 sensation, for the testimony of sense is limited to 
 the here and now. Furthermore, the idea of 
 space is the necessary presupposition of all expe- 
 rience of an external world, and the necessary 
 presupposition of all experience cannot be derived 
 from any finite number of experiences. There- 
 fore space must be one of the constitutive ideas 
 of mind — a kind of spiritual lens used in all acts 
 of perception. Aristotle defines space as the uni- 
 versal vessel in which all things are contained; 
 and of course if the including vessel be in the 
 mind, there too must be its contents. A similar 
 course of reasoning proves the subjectivity of 
 time, and by implication the subjectivity of all 
 processes of change — growth, development, and 
 metamorphosis. With its powers of deglutition 
 strengthened by these remarkable feats, Kantian 
 thought easily swallows everything that is worth 
 swallowing ; nor is its voracity appeased until it 
 has proved that being is an a priori idea, and 
 hence that nothing dare exist without saying 
 " By your leave "' to the universal Mind. 
 
 Does this mean that the visible universe is 
 merely "an orderly phantasmagoria generated 
 
 * Educational Psychology, Dr. Harris, Chapter VI. 
 
PROEBBL'S PHILOSOPHY. 5 
 
 by the ego and unfolding its successive scenes 
 upon the background of an abyss of nothing- 
 ness " ? Is the world man knows only a world he 
 makes, and are there behind, beneath, above this 
 world great realities, mysterious things in them- 
 selves which he can never know ? Or, since with- 
 out borrowing from mind the right to be, nothing 
 can exist, is the so-called thing in itself a mere 
 figment of the imagination, and as the outcome of 
 all this storm and stress of thought does little 
 man stand forth like the hero of fairy legend 
 holding in his hand the heart of the giant uni- 
 verse which henceforth shall live and breathe 
 only at his good pleasure ? Finally, does each in- 
 dividual build his own world, and, if so, how does 
 it happen that all individuals build substantially 
 the same world ? 
 
 These questions suggest the problems with 
 which German philosophy wrestles. Kant 
 proves the subjectivity of space and time, and 
 thus reduces the knowable universe to a product 
 of the self. To Fichte it becomes clear that the 
 self who builds the world is not the private aud 
 particular self of each rational subject. In every 
 man there are two selves — a pygmy self and a 
 giant self. The former discriminates the particu- 
 lar individual from all other individuals; the 
 latter unites him with them. The colossal self 
 who is in and through and over all particular 
 selves is the true world-builder. In an illuminat- 
 ing flash of thought Schelling comes to see that 
 this colossal world-builder is not imprisoned in 
 the realm of subjective intelligence. For in order 
 
6 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 to "be universal and necessary his ideas must be 
 objective as well as subjective, and he cannot be 
 less objective than his own constitutive forms. 
 Hence the world is a revelation of the Absolute 
 Spirit. Finally, the vortical movement of specu- 
 lative thought returns upon itself in the mind of 
 Hegel, who, rigorously analysing the paradox of 
 self-consciousness, finds therein a key to all the 
 problems of philosophy. Granting that spirit 
 makes the world, then in the form of spirit must 
 lie the explanation of the world-making process. 
 The form of spirit is self-consciousness, as was 
 perceived by Aristotle when he defined reason as 
 the "knowing of knowing." Self-consciousness 
 is the knowing of the self by the self, and this 
 implies both the distinction of subject and object, 
 and the recognition of their identity. The life of 
 the spirit is therefore an endless process of self- 
 diremption and of the reintegration of its di- 
 rempted elements into the synthetic unity of con- 
 sciousness. Its history is an endless flight from 
 itself in order to find itself. 
 
 Boundless is the illumination of this insight. 
 It is the veritable sun of the spiritual world, and 
 in its light all the phenomena of mind are re- 
 vealed in their individual distinction and their 
 reciprocal relations. What is love but the flight 
 of the self to another and the finding of itself in 
 this other ? What is holiness but a persistent 
 flight of the soul from its own evil ? What is in- 
 dividuality but the relationship of the self to and 
 its recoil upon an environment of other selves ? 
 What is human self-knowledge but the recog- 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 7 
 
 nition by our universal and abiding self of an 
 indefinite series of momentary and vanishing 
 selves ? What are the antitheses of finite and in- 
 finite, chance and necessity, fate and freedom, 
 phenomenon and noumenon — in brief, what are 
 all the contradictions which vex and baffie our 
 understanding, but the paradoxes of a spirit 
 which must achieve unity by a triumph over op- 
 positions ? Finally, what must be the life of the 
 infinite and divine self ? Must it not consist in 
 a ceaseless outpouring of its wealth — an eternal 
 gift of itself to another, and an eternal discovery 
 of itself in this other ? And the visible universe, 
 is it not precisely the embodiment of such a di- 
 vine life, a synthetic unity wrought of infinite 
 differentiation ? * 
 
 The Two Insights of the Kantian School. 
 
 If I have succeeded in sketching roughly the 
 development of speculative thought, the reader 
 will have perceived that the foci which determine 
 its curve are the world-destroying insight of the 
 subjectivity of space and time, and the world-re- 
 building insight of the objectivity of mind. Be- 
 cause he never attained the latter insight, Kant 
 held on with desperate grip to certain unknown 
 and unknowable "things-in-themselves." His 
 successors, however, bade these spectres avaunt, 
 and, boldly declaring that since mind cannot be 
 
 * Whoever attains this insight will realise how little specu- 
 lative philosophy deserves the reproach of pantheism, and will 
 understand that it is a presentation by and to reason of the very 
 truth which Christianity reveals to the heart — the truth, viz., 
 that God is love. 
 
8 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 less universal and necessary than its own ideas, 
 it must be the one true and only " thing in itself," 
 declined to bother their heads with unrealities 
 devoid of extension, change, and even existence. 
 True attorneys of Reason they proved her title 
 to the sphere, and showed that in the so-called 
 material world " omnipresent mind lies extended 
 all around and about itself." 
 
 Schelling's Insight into the Spiritual Meaning 
 of Nature. 
 
 As we have seen, the doctrine that reason or 
 intelligence is the identity of the subjective and 
 the objective was first announced by Schelling. 
 Starting from the self-evident fact that all true 
 knowledge implies a correspondence between 
 thought and being, he declares nature to be the 
 sum of all that is objective in our knowing, and 
 the ego to be the sum of all that is subjective,* 
 and argues that these two sums must be equal. 
 The relationship between nature and intelligence 
 is illustrated by the symbol of the magnet. '"AH 
 knowing has two poles which reciprocally imply 
 each other. Hence there must be two funda- 
 mental sciences, and it must be impossible to start 
 from the one without being impelled towards the 
 other!" f By self -impulsion nature ascends towards 
 spirit. By self -impulsion spirit produces nature. 
 " All natural objects have their explanation in a 
 blind attempt on the part of nature to look at 
 itself," or to become self-conscious intelligence. 
 Conversely, the whole activity of the thinking 
 
 * System des Transcendentaleii Idealismiis. f Ibid. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 9 
 
 subject is the self production of itself as object, 
 and the beholding of itself in this object. There- 
 fore alike in the dramatically self-evolving proc- 
 esses of nature and in the subconscious and partly- 
 conscious activities of human intelligence we may 
 study the becoming of reason. 
 
 In its power of mental provocation this great 
 insight is without a rival. It produces in him 
 who assimilates it a new temper of mind and leads 
 him to be everywhere on the lookout for traces 
 of the structure of reason. He makes novel and 
 strangely suggestive definitions of nature. She is 
 " unripe mind " ; " petrified intelligence " ; " adul- 
 terated reason " ; " mind precipitated " ; " the im- 
 mense shadow of man " ; " the colossal cipher of 
 the soul " ; " the garment of divinity " ; " the cata- 
 ract which reflects in rainbow colours the sun- 
 light of reason." " As a whole, and in the rela- 
 tion of her parts, she is the dial plate of the 
 invisible world." She is " an encyclopaedical, sys- 
 tematic plan or index of the human spirit." She 
 is " an JEolian harp, a musical instrument whose 
 tones again are keys to higher strings in us." She 
 mounts towards man, who is " her Messiah." Her 
 dead and unconscious products are " her abortive 
 attempts to mirror herself." Man is " her higher 
 sense"; "the star which connects this planet with 
 the upper world, the eye it turns towards heaven." 
 The " reason that sleeps in the plant and dreams 
 in the animal wakes in him." " The pungent in- 
 fluence of natural objects upon the mind " is due 
 to the fact that through them " man imprisoned, 
 man crystallised, man vegetative, speaks to man 
 3 
 
10 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 impersonated." In sum, " men are symbols and 
 inhabit symbols; workmen, work and tools, 
 words and things, birth and death are emblems, 
 and it is only our infatuation with the economical 
 uses of things which blinds us to the fact that all 
 things are thoughts.'' 
 
 Quickened by the insight that nature is a 
 symbol in the whole and in every part, alert rea- 
 son begins to search for adumbrations of her own 
 form, and thus pierces to deeper and more specific 
 analogies. Consciousness is recognition of the 
 identity of subject and object. It is selfsame- 
 ness. Hence, in Nature, "all things are of one 
 pattern made,'' and the universe "an infinite 
 paroquet repeats one note." * But the sameness of 
 reason is a sameness in difference. Mind is self- 
 polarising, and consciousness the " eternal rhyme " 
 of subject and object. Therefore, Nature is " bal- 
 ance-loving, and makes all things in pairs " ; and 
 in darkness and light, in the poles of the magnet, 
 
 * " All tilings 
 Are of one pattern made : bird, beast, and flower. 
 Song, picture, form, space, thought, and character 
 Deceive us, seeming to be many things, 
 And are but one. . . . 
 To know one element, explore another. 
 And in the second reappears the first. 
 The specious panorama of a year 
 But multiplies the image of a day; 
 A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame. 
 And universal Nature, through her vast 
 And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet. 
 Repeats one note." — Emerson, Xenophanes. 
 See also, in Representative Men, the Essay on Swedenborg. 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. H 
 
 in acid and alkali, in the mystery of sex, we find 
 writ in characters of sense the law of spirit. Di- 
 recting attention less to the fixed antithesis of 
 subject and object, and more to the form of spir- 
 itual activity, mind reveals itself as a process of 
 estrangement and return, a self-diremption into 
 specific ideas and energies, and a return into itself 
 by the reintegration of its dirempted elements 
 into the unity of consciousness. In correspond- 
 ence with this circular sweep of the soul, the 
 heavenly spheres revolve, days and seasons come 
 and go, the great sea ebbs and flows, plants and 
 animals repeat the rotary processes of genera- 
 tion, growth, and metamorphosis ; or, in scientific 
 summary, all Nature is " reducible to a series of 
 motions," and the " primordial mode of all these 
 motions is rhythm." Last of all, the circles of the 
 spirit are ascending and widening circles, and in 
 its returns upon itself thought mounts to higher 
 planes of consciousness. The mark of each higher 
 plane is the dissolution of an ever-increasing 
 multiplicity of difi^erences into a deeper unity. 
 Hence Nature, in the whole and in every part, is 
 evolutionary, and whether in the development of 
 the nebula, the seed, the animal, or in the genesis 
 of higher species of plants and animals, she moves 
 from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, and 
 her guiding ideal is the production of specific 
 individuality by the harmonising of infinite dif- 
 ferences.* 
 
 * " No living thinker," says Mr. Drummond, " has yet found 
 it possible to account for evolution. Mr. Herbert Spencer's fa- 
 
12 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 From the recognition of reason in nature, 
 thought ascends to recognition of reason in the 
 unconscious and partially conscious processes of 
 mind. The difference between the higher and 
 lower forms of intelligence is shown to consist 
 not in "the presence or absence of phases of 
 thought but in the consciousness of them." In- 
 stinct is defined as "genius in paradise before 
 the period of self-abstraction." Feeling is proved 
 to hold thought in solution. Imagination is 
 "the use which reason makes of the material 
 world " ; " the affirmation of a real relation be- 
 tween a thought and some material fact"; "the 
 recognition of the reality of reason under the 
 shows of sense"; "the power which transub- 
 stantiates daily bread into holiest symbol." The 
 voice of fable is declared " to have in it some- 
 what divine." Fairy tales are "dreams of that 
 
 mous definition of evolution as 'a change from an indefinite 
 incoherent homogeneity to a definite coherent heterogeneity 
 through continuous differentiations and integrations' — the for- 
 mula of which the Contemporary Revieiver remarked that 'the 
 universe may well have heaved a sigh of relief when, through 
 the cerebration of an eminent thinker it had been delivered of 
 this account of itself — is simply a summary of results, and 
 throws no light, though it is often supposed to do so, upon ulti- 
 mate causes." — Aficent of Man, p. 5. 
 
 I entirely agree with Mr. Drummond that Mr. Spencer's 
 formula throws no light upon the ultimate causes of evolution. 
 It is certain, however, that before Mr. Darwin and Mr. Spencer 
 had formulated the theory of evolution it had been accounted 
 for in speculative philosophy, and, furthermore, that the clew to 
 the cosmic process had been practically applied by Froebel to 
 the education of little children. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 13 
 
 home world which is everywhere and nowhere." 
 Proverbs are " the sanctuary of the intuitions." 
 Art is " the presentation of reason to man 
 through his senses " ; the "godlike rendered visi- 
 ble " ; " eternity looking through time." Poetry 
 "is science, and the poet the true logician." 
 The poet is "the all-knower, an actual world in 
 miniature," and his vocation is "to call each 
 particular fact to its universal consecration." 
 Religions cease to be denounced as products of 
 superstition and priestcraft, and are recognised 
 as "reason speaking naively"; as "the highest 
 symbols — symbols through which all men can 
 recognise a present God and worship the same." 
 In a word, " the whole history of humanity, with 
 all its changing scenes, stands forth revealed 
 as a process of the development and realisa- 
 tion of spirit"; and, unsated even by this full 
 recognition of her presence and her deeds, all- 
 conquering Reason insists that every product 
 and process of thought shall declare her form; 
 and in language, myth, and fable, in art and 
 religion, in the contrast between the dull uni- 
 formities of savage life and the complex inter- 
 dependencies of civilisation, in the rise and fall 
 of particular peoples, and in the great cycles 
 of universal history, seeks and finds manifesta- 
 tions of her selfsameness, her polar antithesis, 
 her rhythmic pulsation, and her dissolution of 
 ever-increasing contradictions into higher uni- 
 ties.* As the outcome of her victory, " every act 
 
 * For a discussion of the nature of self-consciousness in 
 
14 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 of introversion, every glance into tbe mind, is 
 proved to be a glance at the veritable outward, 
 and an ascension towards heaven." 
 
 II. Feoebel as a Disciple of Schelling. 
 
 My apology for referring to a series of specu- 
 lative insights in the introduction to a book popu- 
 larly supposed to be a mere collection of nursery 
 songs is the conviction that without some ap- 
 preciation of the ideas in which Froebel lived, 
 moved, and had his being, his writings and his 
 educational work are alike incomprehensible. 
 He is par excellence the philosopher of education. 
 Born in 1782, he was seven years younger than 
 Schelling and twelve years younger than Hegel. 
 When he was twenty-one years old he read Schel- 
 ling's Bruno, and in an autobiographical letter 
 he tells us that he was deeply moved by it and 
 seemed to himself to understand it. He so loved 
 Novalis (the gifted disciple of Schelling), that if 
 for any reason he parted with the volume contain- 
 ing his works " he felt as if he had parted with 
 himself ; and if anything happened to the book, 
 he felt as if it had happened to himself, only far 
 more keenly and deeply." Another of his favour- 
 ite books was the Psyche of Carus (another disci- 
 ple of Schelling, who expounded the philosophy 
 of Nature), of which he declares that " he has met 
 with no work which bears such clear witness to 
 
 art, see Introduction to the Study of Philosophy, William T. 
 Harris, pp. 189-235. 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHV. 15 
 
 the truth of his own aims and efforts." * He was 
 the friend and correspondent of Krause. Through 
 Langethal, Middendorff, and his wife, he was 
 brought into contact with the thought of Fichte 
 and Schleiermacher. His own writings show con- 
 clusively that he not only participated in the gen- 
 eral philosophic activity of his time, but that he 
 was specifically an adherent of that "Romantic 
 School ' which has thrown so much light upon 
 nature, art, mythology, and religion, and which, 
 working in and through him, has contributed so 
 materially to the solution of the problem of edu- 
 cation. 
 
 FroeheVs Statements of the Doctrine of the 
 Unity of Spirit and Nature. 
 
 The insight that spirit is the sole reality, that 
 this Absolute Spirit is God, and that all beings 
 possess life and mind in so far as they participate 
 in God, is the key to all those passages in Froe- 
 bel's writings which refer to what he calls the 
 fact of life-unity and the process of life unifica- 
 tion. With the hope of aiding my readers to 
 orient themselves in his thought, I quote some 
 characteristic sentences from the opening para- 
 graphs of the Education of Man : 
 
 " In all things there lives and reigns an eter- 
 nal law. . . . This all-controlling law implies as 
 its source an all-pervading, energising, self-con- 
 scious, and hence eternal unity. . . . This unity 
 is God. From God all things have proceeded. 
 
 * See Froebel's Letters, E. Miohaelis and H. Keatley 
 Moore, p. 387. 
 
16 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 In God all things subsist. . . . The essential na- 
 ture of any given thing is the godlike principle 
 within it ; the destiny of all things is to unfold 
 the divine essence, and thus to manifest God. . . . 
 The destiny of man as a rational being is to be- 
 come conscious of the divine essence and to re- 
 veal it in his life with self-determination and 
 freedom. . . . To recognise the workings of this 
 universal divine principle in nature and in hu- 
 manity is science. ... To discern its bearings 
 upon the development of rational beings is the 
 science of education. ... To apply it practically 
 to all kinds of individuals in all stages of devel- 
 opment is the art of education. . . . To lead the 
 pupil to its conscious revelation is the goal of 
 education." * 
 
 The correlative insight that the form of self- 
 consciousness is the key to the cosmos is the true 
 import of Froebel's doctrine of the mediation of 
 opposites and the explanation of his recurrent 
 statement that all objects must have a triune 
 manifestation^ — i. e., in and as unity, in and as 
 diversity, in and as concrete individuality.! The 
 outcome of this insight, as we have seen, is recog- 
 nition of Nature as one vast symbol. Hence we 
 find that the whole section of the Education of 
 Man which discusses natural science and mathe- 
 matics is devoted to elucidating and illustrating 
 the correspondence between natural and psychic- 
 al facts and processes. The following passages, 
 
 * See, in Mother Play, Introduction to commentaries and 
 commentary on The Church. 
 
 f See, in Mother Play, Introduction to Commentaries. 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 17 
 
 selected almost at random, will show how com- 
 pletely Froebel's mind is saturated with this 
 thought : 
 
 " From every point, from every object in na- 
 ture and life, there is a way to God." * 
 
 " The things of nature form a more beautiful 
 ladder between heaven and earth than that seen 
 by Jacob ; not a one-sided ladder leading in one 
 direction, but an all-sided one leading in all di- 
 rections. Not in dreams is it seen : it is perma- 
 nent ; it surrouuds us on all sides. It is decked 
 with flowers, and angels with children's eyes 
 beckon us towards it ; it is solid, resting on a floor 
 of crystals ; the inspired singer David praises and 
 glorifles it." f 
 
 " If we seek the inner reason for this high 
 symbolic meaning of the dift'erent individual 
 phenomena of nature, particularly in the phases 
 of development of natural' objects in relationship 
 to the stadia of human development, we find it in 
 the fact that nature and man have their origin 
 in one and the same eternal Being, and that their 
 development takes place in accordance with the 
 same laws, only at different stages." I 
 
 " Everything is of divine nature, of divine 
 origin. Everything is therefore relatively a 
 unity, as God is absolute unity. Everything, 
 therefore, inasmuch as it is — though only rela- 
 tively — a unitjr, manifests its nature only in and 
 through a triune revelation and representation 
 
 ♦Education of Man, Hailmann's translation, p. 130. 
 t Ibid.; p. 203. i Ibid., p. 161. 
 
18 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 of itself, and there only in and through, continu- 
 onsly progressive, hence relatively all-sided de- 
 velopment. 
 
 " This truth is the foundation of all contempla- 
 tion, knowledge, and comprehension of nature. 
 Without it there can be no true, genuine, pro- 
 ductive investigation and knowledge of nature. 
 Without it there can be no true contemplation of 
 nature, leading to insight into the essential being 
 of nature." * 
 
 More interesting than Froebel's statements of 
 the philosophic discoveries of his age are his 
 original applications of them. These applications 
 are of differing degrees of merit. Some of them 
 have proved dangerously misleading both to blind 
 and superstitious disciples — and to critics, who 
 would have done well to remember Carlyle's 
 warning, that " it is well to see a great man be- 
 fore attempting to oversee him." Only the stu- 
 dent who has insight into the ideas which ruled 
 Froebel's mind can justly weigh his work. He 
 had drunk deeply of the new wine of thought, 
 and was both " intoxicated and assimilated " by 
 the draiight. Saturated with the idea that mind 
 is the sole reality and that all things must reveal 
 its form, he is sometimes betrayed into puerile 
 analogies and formal allegories. His absurd 
 etymologies are the fruit of an abortive effort to 
 trace the activity of spirit in the formation of 
 
 * Education of Man, Hailmann's translation, p. 153. See 
 in Mother Play, commentaries on Light, Bird, Flower and Taste 
 Songs, and Finger Piano and Mottoes to Boy and Moon, and 
 Little Maiden and the Stars. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 19 
 
 speech. His deduction of the forms of crystals 
 from the nature of force is a somewhat happier 
 effort to surprise the footprints of reason. The 
 much misunderstood symbolism of the kinder- 
 garten gifts is an attempt to utilise this deduction 
 in the education of childhood. Most of the na- 
 ture games in the Mother Play are presentations to 
 the phantasy of childhood of those symbolic phe- 
 nomena which have nourished the spiritual life 
 of childlike men. The Mother Play, as a whole, 
 is Froebel's most triumphant achievement, and, 
 despite some extravagances and many formal 
 defects, accomplishes its double purpose of reveal- 
 ing the onward march of reason in the manifesta- 
 tions of childhood, and of holding up the ideals of 
 reason to childish imagination and affection. 
 
 III. Froebel's Mother Play. 
 
 The genesis of the Mother Play offers no diffi- 
 culties to the student who is familiar with Froe- 
 bel's life and who has entered into his thought. 
 Given a man whose ruling passion is education, 
 who has been for twenty-four years an educational 
 experimenter, and in whose mind through all 
 these years the faith that reason is present in 
 the subconscious activities of intelligence has 
 been gathering force, and the story of the Mother 
 Play is told. Froebel studied childhood and 
 motherhood in their inmost union and their re- 
 ciprocal influence. He sought for the point of 
 contact between the manifested needs of the one 
 and the instinctive effort of the other to meet 
 such needs. This point of contact he found in 
 
20 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 uui'sery rhymes and in the unrhymed games 
 which had been nursery favourites for unknown 
 ages. He defined to himself the unconscious 
 ideal which created these rhymes and games, and 
 set himself the task of giving it a conscious em- 
 bodiment ; hence, the differences between the 
 games in the Mother Play and their prototypes 
 reveal to the student what the instinct of child- 
 hood and maternity has blindly sought, and ex- 
 plain why its aim has not been adequately real- 
 ised.* 
 
 * With the hope of aiding young mothers and inexperienced 
 kindergartners, I venture to suggest a few questions which may 
 serve as a general plan for the study of each song, motto, and 
 commentary in the Mother Play. 
 
 1. In what manifestation of the child has this song its point 
 of departure ? 
 
 2. What analogous manifestations occur upon higher planes 
 of development f 
 
 3. What are the psychologic implications of these manifes- 
 tations? 
 
 4. Towards what spiritual goal do they point? 
 
 5. What has been the response, of instinctive motherhood to 
 the indicated need ? 
 
 6. What is Proebel's response? 
 
 7. What differences are there between the mother's response 
 and Proebel's response, and wherein does the latter show an ad- 
 vance upon the former ? 
 
 8. What will be the probable effect of a failure to meet the 
 indicated need ? 
 
 9. What are the limitations of the principle which this play 
 embodies ? 
 
 10. Wherein does this play show an advance in idea upon 
 its predecessors? 
 
 11. What method and what means are employed by Froebel 
 to develop this idea? 
 
FROISBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 21 
 
 In one of his very suggestive notes to Ro- 
 senkranz's Philosophy of Education, Dr. Harris 
 points out the fact that Mother Goose's melodies 
 give in embryonic form types of character and 
 situation whose adequate embodiment is found 
 in higher literature. He adds : 
 
 "A scale thus extending from the earth to 
 the fixed stars of genius furnishes pictures of 
 human life of all degrees of concreteness. The 
 meagre and abstract outline is given in the nur- 
 sery tale, and the deep, comprehensive grasp of 
 the situation, with all its motives, is found in 
 Shakespeare. The summation of the events of 
 life in Solomon Grundy has been compared to 
 the epitome furnished by Shakespeare in the 
 Seven Ages; and the disastrous voyage of the 
 Three Men of Gotham is made a universal type 
 of human disaster arising from rash adven- 
 ture." 
 
 In like manner the story of Little Boy Blue 
 suggests the effects of slothful neglect of duty ; 
 the man who, having scratched his eyes out in 
 one bramble bush, scratches them in by jump- 
 ing into another, is a discoverer of that circular 
 process by which the recoil of the deed saves 
 the doer; Jack Horner is the earliest literary 
 representative of that large class of persons who, 
 reaping the advantage of deeds not their own, 
 plume themselves on their fancied achievement ; 
 the Man in the Wilderness is the prototype of 
 all foolish questioners seeking solution of un- 
 real problems ; and the poor woman who couldn't 
 keep quiet on " victuals and drink " crudely em- 
 
22 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 bodies the yearnings of a soul which may not 
 dare to live on bread alone.* 
 
 It is because of their truly rational content 
 that traditional nursery rhymes have endured 
 the test of survival and merit the name of genu- 
 ine literature.! It is because many books written 
 for children lack this content that they pervert 
 and destroy the literary sense. Most baneful of 
 all these abortive products of unintelligent minds 
 are the books which are forever administering 
 sugar-coated pills of useful information and 
 moral advice. 
 
 I am anxious to make this distinction between 
 true and false literature for childhood very clear, 
 because, singularly enough, advocates of the 
 Mother Play have been accused of doing the very 
 thing they most strenuously condemn. Such ac- 
 cusation has arisen from the fact that the ac- 
 cusers have failed to detect the difference between 
 reason implicit and reason explicit, or, differently 
 stated, because they have construed the state- 
 ment that nursery literature should present uni- 
 versal and typical facts to mean that little chil- 
 dren should be expected to understand universal 
 and necessary truths. The physical relation of 
 man to the lower vertebrates suggests a parallel 
 which ma}' interpret the evolution of rational 
 ideas. " In the snake," says Emerson, " all the 
 organs are sheathed; no hands, no feet, no fins, 
 
 * See Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney's Mother Goose for Grown 
 Polks, from which I borrow these interpretations, 
 f Appendix, Note II. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 23 
 
 no wings. In bird and beast the organs are re- 
 leased and begin to play. In man they are all 
 unbound and full of joyful action. With this 
 unswaddling he receives the absolute illumina- 
 tion we call "reason, and thereby true liberty." * 
 
 Even simpler than the rhymes which furnish 
 primordial types of character and situation are 
 the nursery plays which incite the first feeble 
 stirrings of self-consciousness, and appeal to the 
 dawning sense of human relationships. Archaic 
 games like Knock at the Door, Peep In, Here 
 sits the Lord Mayor, Dance, Thumbkin, The 
 Little Pigs that went to Market, and the favour- 
 ite nursery trick of tugging at the baby's nose or 
 ear and then pretending to show it, are manifestly 
 attempts to call attention to the different parts 
 of the body, and stir some premonition of its 
 membered unity. Bye Baby Bunting, Father's a 
 Nobleman Mother's a Queen, Dance Little Baby, 
 interpret to the heart of the child his own love 
 for father and mother, and their love and care 
 of him. Neighbour How do you Do, introduces 
 him to social life. Pat-a-Cake, The Miller of Dee, 
 Oats Peas Beans, When I was a Shoemaker, 
 Here I Brew and Here I Bake, are crude pictures 
 of the activities of the workaday world. The 
 rhyme of The Church the Steeple and all Good 
 People, responds to infantile wonder at the sound 
 of church bells and the sight of hurrying con- 
 gregations. Such games as Hide and Seek, The 
 Five Knights, and others of like kind, stir and sat- 
 
 * Society and Solitude, p. 39. 
 
24 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 isfy the craving for recognition. My Lady Wind, 
 I had a Little Sister, Hickamore, Hickamore, and 
 many rhymes of bird, beast, and flower, owe their 
 popularity to their animism. Add to these differ- 
 ent classes of rhymes and plays the stories which, 
 like The Old Woman and her Pig, The House 
 that Jack Built, and The Tree in the Ground, 
 present events in a crudely related series, and 
 jingles such as If all the Seas were One Sea, 
 which remotely suggest the underlying unity of 
 all separate things, and we shall have before us 
 that deposit of unconscious reason from which 
 Froebel drew the material of his Mother Play. 
 He has attempted to preserve what was good, and 
 to omit what was crude and coarse in the prod- 
 ucts of instinct ; to supply missing links ; to pre- 
 sent a series of games wherein each is organically 
 related to all the others, and by means of dramatic 
 and graphic representation, poetry, and music to 
 win for the ideals embodied in these games a con- 
 trolling power over the imagination. He has 
 been, on the whole, successful in his choice of 
 subjects, in his pictures, and in his explanation 
 of motives. He has been unsuccessful in his 
 poems and music. His merit is that of a path 
 breaker, and his claim upon our gratitude that 
 he has shown us how to abet the activity of 
 the inwardly self -evolving ideal, and hence 
 withoiit detriment to the child's spontaneity to 
 influence the growth of character and the trend 
 of thought.* 
 
 * Appendix, Note III. 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 25 
 
 It has been said that " evolution implies invo- 
 lution and advolution." * The remark is as true of 
 spiritual evolution as of physical. The trend of 
 development suggests the character and destiny 
 of the developing object. It is therefore from 
 human history that we learn to know human na- 
 ture. The typical deeds of man as revealed in 
 history are the creation of language, the erection 
 of social institutions, the development of the prac- 
 tical and fine arts, and the pursuit of science and 
 philosophy. If we desire to understand any given 
 people we study its speech, its type of family life, 
 its organisation of industry, its form of govern- 
 ment, its religious ritual, its architecture, sculp- 
 ture, painting, poetry, and music, its scientific 
 theories, and its metaphysics. In these great prod- 
 ucts man reveals himself, and we are sure that, 
 while they must vary and improve in type, they 
 express the permanent and characteristic energies 
 of the human spirit. The great object of child- 
 study should therefore be to discover the embry- 
 onic forms of these moving principles of the soul. 
 The duty of education is to give them due nur- 
 ture. The aim of education should be to insure 
 correspondence between the individual and his 
 spiritual environment, and to fit him for partici- 
 pation in the universal life. 
 
 It was because simple mother-wit had tried, 
 however blindly, to accomplish these purposes, 
 that Froebel was able to learn from mothers how 
 to educate the child. It is because in the Mother 
 
 * Drummond, Ascent of Man. 
 
26 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Play and the Kindergarten Gifts he has lifted 
 their instinctive procedure into the light of clear 
 consciousness, that they in turn should learn of 
 him. 
 
 To childhood and motherhood Froehel owes 
 not only the material of the Mother Play, but, 
 what is at least equally important, the idea of 
 utilising imitation as a main factor in nursery 
 education. His pictures, mottoes, and commen- 
 taries, however, prove beyond dispute that, like 
 other geniuses, he interprets and improves what 
 he borrows, and that his use of imitation is no 
 haphazard proceeding, but the practical outcome 
 of his psychologic acumen. In the illustrations 
 to Pat-a-Pat, The Weather Vane, Mowing-Grass, 
 Tick-Tack, Joiner, and Little Gardener, the child 
 is shown in the act of imitation ; and since Froe- 
 bel, in his Introduction to the Commentaries, 
 urges students above all else to study its pictures, 
 it is evident that by his repeated portrayal of imi- 
 tative activity, he means to emphasise its impor- 
 tance. In the commentaries to the Weather Vane, 
 Mowing-Grass, and Little Gardener occur the fol- 
 lowing remarks : 
 
 " What adult deed is there that children will 
 not at once imitate ? Therefore be careful, you 
 grown-up people, what you do in presence of 
 these little ones."' (Weather Vane.) 
 
 " The child will understand all the better the 
 work of grown-up people if by imitation he is 
 made a participant in it." (Mowing-Grass.) 
 
 " The tendency to imitation in children should 
 be most carefully cultivated. Such culture will 
 
FROBBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 27 
 
 lighten by one half the work of education. The 
 mother who utilises imitation at the proper 
 stage of development will accomplish by a touch 
 light as a feather what later she could hardly 
 do with a hundredweight of words." (Little 
 Gardener.) 
 
 In the motto to the Weather Vane, which is 
 the first characteristic game in the Mother Play, 
 Froebel clearly points to imitation as the practi- 
 cal key to the whole book : 
 
 " Is thy child to apprehend another's deed ? 
 Then he must repeat this deed. Herein [i. e., in 
 the necessity of reproduction to mental assimila- 
 tion] is deeply rooted his eager effort to imitate 
 the persons and things about him." 
 
 Froebel's appreciation of the significance of 
 imitative activities is shown even more conclu- 
 sively in his deed than in his words. All of his 
 games are imitative in the sense that the child 
 repeats a movement or series of movements made 
 by mother or kindergartner.* Most of them are 
 also imitative, in the sense that the child either 
 reproduces the activities of persons and things 
 about him, or dramatises and thus relives events 
 in his own history. 
 
 Within the past few years the attention of 
 psychologists has been directed with increasing 
 interest to a study of the nature, the scope, and 
 the meaning of imitative activities. In the light 
 of these investigations the originality of Froebel's 
 
 * As children mature they are encouraged to originate their 
 mimetic representations. 
 
28 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 attempt to utilise imitation in the education of 
 infancy and childhood is clearly disclosed, and I 
 should be doing the Mother Play a great injustice 
 if I failed to quote the following passages from 
 Professors James, Eoyce, and Baldwin : 
 
 " The dramatic impulse, the tendency to pre- 
 tend one is some one else, contains this pleasure 
 of mimicry as one of its elements. Another ele- 
 ment seems to be a peculiar sense of power in 
 stretching one's own personality so as to include 
 that of a strange person. In young children this 
 instinct often knows no bounds. For a few 
 months in one of my children's third year he 
 literally hardly ever appeared in his own person. 
 
 ... If you called him by his name, H , you 
 
 invariably got the reply: 'I'm not H ; I'm a 
 
 liyena, or a horse-car,' or wliatever tlie feigned 
 object might be." * 
 
 " It is an odd fact, and one of vast significance, 
 that all of us come by our developed personal 
 self-consciousness through very decidedly imita- 
 ti^'o processes. Of this fact a later discussion 
 may give a fuller account. It is enough now to 
 remind observers of children how full of proud 
 self-consciousness is the little boy who drives a 
 horse, or who plays soldier, or who is himself a 
 horse, or a bird, or other creature in his play. To 
 be what we call his real self is, for his still chaotic 
 and planless inner consciousness, so long as it is 
 
 * Professor James's Psychology, vol. ii, p. 409. Quoted in 
 Professor Royce's article. The Imitative Functions and their 
 Place in Human Nature, Century Magazine, May, 1894. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 29 
 
 not set iu order by liis imitativeness, the same as 
 to be nobody in particular. But to be a horse, or 
 a coachman, or a soldier, or the hero of a favourite 
 story, or a fairy, that is to be somebody, for that 
 sort of self one first witnesses from without, or 
 finds portrayed in the fascinating tale, and then 
 imitatively assimilates, so that one thereupon 
 conceives this new self from within, and rejoices 
 in one's prowess as one does so.'" * 
 
 " Nothing less than the child's personality is 
 at stake in the method and matter of its imita- 
 tions ; for the ' self ' is but the form or process iu 
 which the influences surrounding the child take 
 on their new individuality. . . . 
 
 "It is not only likely — it is inevitable — that 
 he make up his personality, under limitations of 
 heredity, by imitation, out of the ' copy ' set in 
 the actions, temper, emotions, of the persons who 
 build around him the social inclosure of his 
 childhood. " f 
 
 "The point is this: the child's personality 
 grows; growth is always by action; he clothes 
 upon himself the scenes of his life, and acts 
 them out ; so he grows in what he is, what he 
 understands, and what he is able to perform." J 
 
 The important truth stated and illustrated in 
 these several passages may be briefly re-stated as 
 follows: The child creates himself. He creates 
 himself by reproducing his environment within 
 
 * Professor Royce, ibid. 
 
 f JMental Development, by James Mark Baldwin, p. 357. 
 
 i Ibid., p. 361. 
 
30 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 himself. The first form of reproduction is imita- 
 tion. Hence, imitation is the true point of de- 
 parture both for educational psychology and for 
 a wise nurture of childhood. :. 
 
 Confining ourselves to the practical corollaries 
 of the indicated thesis, it is evident that the prime 
 duties of parents are to protect the cliild from bad 
 models and to supply him with good ones. They^ 
 should also observe with care what special persons, 
 objects, and actions are most frequently imitated, 
 for in such imitations the child reveals the native 
 bias of his temperament, indicates the line of his 
 possibilities, and suggests the dangers to which 
 he is prone. They should divert attention from 
 persons or things which monopolise imagination 
 and threaten to derange the balance of character 
 by sul)jecting it to the tyranny of too few ideas, 
 and in proiDortion to the increasing power of 
 assimilating alien experience they should procure 
 for the child that variety which is " the soul of 
 originality and the fountain of the ethical life." 
 For what is originality but the synthesis of a 
 manifold experience ? What is character but " a 
 completely fashioned will " ? How shall will be 
 fashioned save by free choices ? And how shall 
 free choices be made unless the mind is con- 
 fronted by varying — yes, even antagonistic — pos- 
 sibilities of conduct ? 
 
 When, however, we shall have done all these 
 things, will there be nothing more which we may 
 do ? Does the child need no help in his attempts 
 to portray the life around him? If "nothing 
 less than his personality is at stake in the meth- 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 31 
 
 od aud matter of his imitations," should we allow 
 him to reproduce blindly "the actions, temper, 
 emotions of the persons who build around him 
 the social inclosure of his childhood " ? Can we 
 so perfectly protect him that he will see nothing 
 he may not safely imitate ? Would it be wise 
 so to protect him even if it were possible ? Is it 
 not better to put into his hands a clew to the 
 labyrinth of experience by singling out such typ- 
 ical phenomena of nature and human life as are 
 within his power of apprehension and leading 
 him to reproduce them ? Is not this precisely 
 what Froebel has done in the Mother Play, and 
 through doing it has he not defined the point of 
 departure for all true education ?* 
 
 From those who have had occasion to observe 
 the influence of Froebel's plays I have no fear of 
 the answers I shall receive to these questions. My 
 hope is that in the near future their influence 
 may be far more widely tested, and that thousands 
 of fathers and mothers may see for themselves 
 how through these mimetic pictures of nature 
 and human life the world into which the child is 
 born is born again in him, and mere external sur- 
 roundings are transfigured into an ideal environ- 
 ment created by his own activity. 
 
 Turning our attention from the use of imita- 
 tion to its theoretic implication, we find ourselves 
 once more face to face with that great insight 
 which has determined the orbit of speculative 
 
 • For the fuller discussion of this subject, see my book on 
 Symbolic Education, Chapters V and VII. 
 
32 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 philosophy, and which, acting upon the mind of 
 Froebel, created the Mother Play and the Kinder- 
 garten. We have recognised in imitation an 
 act of spiritual assimilation, and since " between 
 things heterogeneous there can be no intercom- 
 munion," such assimilation clearly presupposes 
 identity of nature between the person imitating 
 and the persons or objects imitated. It is because 
 the true self in each individual is identical with 
 the true self in all individuals that each one of 
 us may repeat another's deed. It is because this 
 colossal self is also present in nature that the 
 child can repeat the activities of natural objects, 
 and the man reduce the phenomena of nature to 
 spiritual principles. The animism of little chil- 
 dren is an expression of the soul's prescient con- 
 viction that there is but one real force — the force 
 of will. Their tireless imitation liints the deeper 
 truth that all living objects parficipate in one 
 great life, all rational subjects in one great mind.* 
 All fires are fed from the sun, and all streams 
 from the sea. Yet one torch may light another, 
 and every tiny streamlet which grows into a 
 great river is fed by tributary streams, by snows 
 descending from the hills, by springs welling up 
 from the earth. Cut off from these sources of 
 supply and replenishment, the rivulet shrinks to 
 a thread. Lacking the outlet through which it 
 gives away what it has received, it loses itself in 
 marshes. In like manner, all true life, all true 
 thought, all true love, are divine life, thought, 
 
 * Appendix, Note IV. 
 
PROBBBL'S PHILOSOPHY. 33 
 
 and love. Yet the divine energy must be com- 
 municated to eaoli individual through nature 
 and throiigh his fellow-men, and it is only as tlie 
 "universe grows I" that the I grows into the 
 image of God. 
 
 Discussing the symbolism of the ball, Froebel 
 calls attention to the fact that a spherical mirror 
 suspended in the air will reflect what is above, 
 below, and around it. The uninitiated kinder- 
 gartner hurries over this to her meaningless sug- 
 gestion, to concentrate her attention upon the 
 practical exercises which follow it. The initi- 
 ated reader recognises that Froebel is trying to 
 illustrate the thought of Leibnitz, that "each 
 soul is a monad, which by its self-activity repeats 
 for itself the universe." This insight is the key 
 to Froebel's recognition of the true meaning of 
 imitation, and of his practical attempt to make 
 that rock of offence the corner stone of the edu- 
 cational edifice. 
 
 No paradox of mind is more interesting than 
 that which relates to the connection between 
 imitation, moral freedom, and intellectual origi- 
 nality. The child who imitates' any alien deed 
 has formed an ideal, and energises to realise it. 
 This is the beginning of moral freedom. He has 
 inferred a causal energy as the begetter of a per- 
 ceptible effect. This is the beginning of intel- 
 lectual freedom. All higher degrees of moral 
 freedom will be achieved by ascent from the imi- 
 tation of external deeds to conscious reproduction 
 of the ideals which lie back of such deeds. All 
 higher degrees of intellectual freedom will be 
 
34 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 attained by wider applications of ttie idea of 
 causality. For to determine actions througli 
 ideals is to be self -determining, and hence free, 
 and to make a causal synthesis of the elements 
 of experience is to win intellectual freedom, or, 
 in other words, to become original. He who 
 makes a synthesis of experience within a definite 
 sphere becomes original in that sphere. He who 
 makes a synthesis of all causal energies and com- 
 prehends their genesis, achieves absolute origi- 
 nality. 
 
 The significance of the Mother Play has long 
 been recognised by Froebel's disciples, but the 
 current error of regarding it as exclusively a 
 book for little children has caused it to be too 
 generally ignored by parents, teachers, and stu- 
 dents of educational psychology. Froebel him- 
 self calls it a " family book," describes it as con- 
 taining poems and pictures whose aim is the noble 
 nurture of child life, and adopts as its motto the 
 saying of Schiller, " Deep meaning oft lies hid in 
 childish play." In the original, the volume con- 
 tains two hundred and seven pages,* fifty pages of 
 which are given up to pictures for the child ; fifty 
 pages contain each a poem for the mother and a 
 poem for the child ; and the remaining one hun- 
 dred and seven pages are addressed in part to the 
 mother alone and in part to mother and father. 
 Seven introductory poems seek to express the 
 mother's feelings as she gazes upon her firstborn 
 child : her deep sense of unity with him ; her 
 
 * Exclusive of music. 
 
FROEBBL'S PHILOSOPHY. 35 
 
 blessedness in contemplating him ; her impulse 
 to play with him ; her joy in his developing life ; 
 her instinctive effort to foster this life ; and her 
 premonition of the truth that, as he depends upon 
 her for physical nourishment, so his soul must 
 be fed from her's. Twelve pages are devoted to 
 a brief statement of the psychologic insights 
 which are the creative source of all Froebel's 
 educational work. The rest of the book consists 
 of commentaries on the pictures and songs. In 
 these commentaries Froebel throws light upon 
 such topics as the impulse of movement, what it 
 implies, and how it shall be met ; imitation, its 
 relationship to mental evolution, and the possi- 
 bility of utilising it in education; the nature of 
 sensation and the right training of sense ; the 
 significance of gesture as a means of develop- 
 ment ; the love of rhythm and its recoil upon 
 thought and character ; childish animism and 
 the spiritual truth to which it points ; the love 
 of hiding, its implications and its dangers ; the 
 path of ascent from simple movement to produc- 
 tive and creative activity ; the evolution of love 
 and service from physical dependence ; the con- 
 temporaneous development of self-consciousness 
 and social sympathy ; the influence of praise and 
 blame, and the genesis of conscience. All of 
 these separate beads of insight are strung upon 
 the double thread of relationship between the 
 child's vanishing selves to his permanent and 
 central self, and the identity of this central self 
 with the colossal self incarnate in the social 
 whole to which as member he belongs. The ob- 
 
36 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 ject of the book is, on tlie one hand, to describe 
 those invasions of the seemingly foreign realms of 
 nature and human life by which the child wins 
 his personality, and, on the other, to point out to 
 the mother how, by responding to a series of in- 
 dicated needs, she may come to his aid in every 
 crisis of the spiritual battle for liberty. It is 
 therefore a book of child study and child nur- 
 ture. For what is the object of child study, if 
 not recognition of dramatic moments in the pro- 
 cess of psychogenesis ? and in what consists the 
 art of nurture, if not in directing and shaping 
 the ideals through which habits are created and 
 character formed ? 
 
 It would seem that in an age which is begin- 
 ning to include child study among the sciences 
 the Mother Play might have a message for all 
 thoughtful persons. It should at the very least 
 be read and considered in order that it may be 
 intelligently condemned. For mothers and kin- 
 dergartners its value can scarcely be exaggerated. 
 It opens a path of sympathetic approach to ques- 
 tions of the highest practical importance, yet 
 which, when discussed abstractly, repel young 
 and inexperienced students. By presenting con- 
 crete illustrations of psychologic truths it rouses 
 interest and kindles thought. By connecting 
 these truths with the daily life of the nursery 
 and kindergarten it renders its students more 
 observant of the manifestations of children and 
 more responsive to their needs. By its reiterated 
 suggestions of correspondence between the sen- 
 sible and spiritual worlds it quickens imagina- 
 
FROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 37 
 
 tion and leads to a loving intimacy with nature. 
 By emphasising the essential phases of mental 
 evolution, and presenting in embryonic form 
 the ideals which have created all literature, it 
 awakens interest in science, history, poetry, and 
 philosophy, and breathes into the soul the crav- 
 ing for wider culture. Hence, in every training 
 school where it is made an integral part of the 
 course of instruction it creates collateral classes 
 for the study of the several subjects enumerated, 
 and its stream of influence mingles with that 
 flowing from the ideal of university extension. 
 
 That Froebel was a born educator no one who 
 studies his life can doubt. His struggling intro- 
 spective childhood is one long record of self-de- 
 velopment and self-discipline. In youth his first 
 conscious aspiration is that, while others give 
 men bread, he may be permitted to give men 
 themselves. When he stands for the first time 
 among his pupils in Gruner's school, he feels to 
 his own surprise like a fish in water or a bird in 
 the air. At Yverdun his penetrating glance dis- 
 cerns at once the strength and weakness of Pesta- 
 lozzi. When, roused to the sense of her degra- 
 dation, Germany arms herself to avenge the de- 
 feat of Jena and the treaty of Tilsit, the spirit of 
 the ideal teacher makes Froebel a soldier ; for 
 " how," he says, " shall I hereafter seek without a 
 blush to inspire the love of country if I fail my 
 country in her hour of need ? " Too true to claim 
 the right to educate until he has defined to him- 
 self his aim and method, he ponders in solitude 
 until his thought grows clear. Too brave to hesi- 
 
38 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 tate for want of practical means when once tlie 
 life-giving ideal has dawned in his mind, he dis- 
 appears from Berlin, walks on foot to Griesheim, 
 spends his last penny for a loaf of bread at Er- 
 furt, and deliberately begins the work which 
 later grows into the great school at Keilhau. His 
 thought is contagious, and moved by its compel- 
 ling power his friends give up their own plans of 
 life and become the servants of his educational 
 idea. In his darkest hour his brother Christian 
 puts at his disposal a hard-earned fortune. In a 
 single interview he so impresses himself upon a 
 gifted woman that she responds to his unique 
 love letter asking her to help a great work by 
 promptly turning her back on a life of ease and 
 gladly aceeptiug poverty, struggle, and miscon- 
 ception. His disciples develop into missionaries 
 find apostles. For four years Middendorfi: sepa- 
 rates himself from wife and children ; and at a 
 single word fr(nn the master, Barop takes his 
 pilgrim staff in hand and, with five dollars in his 
 pocket and owning only the coat upon his back, 
 marches resolutely to the help of the good cause 
 in Switzerland. The parent school at Keilhau 
 grows and flourishes, is attacked, maligned, almost 
 dpstroyed, but putting forth its full strength 
 wins a proud triumph over its slanderers. Its 
 founder, however, hears an inner call to a new 
 work. Taught by experience that schools fail 
 because infancy and early childhood have been 
 neglected, he consecrates his mature years to writ- 
 ing a book of nursery songs, and to the creation 
 of the gifts and occupations of the kindergarten. 
 
PROEBEL'S PHILOSOPHY. 39 
 
 In his old age he plays with little children, and 
 commnnicates to young girls the fire of his own 
 enthusiasm. " He is mad," decide the Liebenstein 
 peasants as they watch him leading forth the 
 troop of barefooted children whom he educates 
 through song and play. " He is a prophet," de- 
 clares the thoughtful Diesterweg, " and has seen 
 as man never saw before into the heart of the 
 child." 
 
 What Froebel saw in the heart of the child he 
 has told us in the Mother Play. In this precious 
 volume he " deciphers all that the child feels in 
 cipher," and translates for mothers the hiero- 
 glyphic of their own instinctive play. As a 
 child's book this little collection of songs and 
 games is unique in literature. As a mother's 
 book likewise it has no ancestry and no posterity. 
 It is the greatest book for little children and the 
 greatest book for mothers in the world. When 
 all women shall have laid to heart its lessons, the 
 ideal which hovers before us in the immortal pic- 
 tures of the Madonna will be realised, for then, at 
 last, each mother will revere and nurture in her 
 child the divine humanity. Am I told that I 
 dream impossible things ? I repel the sugges- 
 tion of doubters, themselves deceived by the 
 " hypocritic days," and fortify my soul with the 
 assurance of the prophetess who, sitting serene 
 in the midst of the revolving wheel of time, de- 
 clares : 
 
 " Den lieb ich der unmogliches begehrt ! " 
 
 Susan E. Blow. 
 
 Avo>-, N. Y., Slay, 1S95. 
 
MOTHER COMMUNINGS. 
 
MOTHER COMMUNINGS. 
 
 I. 
 
 FEELINGS OP A MOTHER CONTEMPLATING HER 
 FIRSTBORN CHILD. 
 
 Great Life of all ! my grateful heart 
 
 Turns first to thee 
 
 With sense of kinship and new dignity ; 
 For is it not through my glad pain 
 That once again, 
 
 As in creation's morn, 
 From out thine over-brooding life 
 
 A soul is born ? 
 
 Dear husband — father of my child — 
 
 From the first thought 
 
 Which gave us each to each, we have been taught, 
 By love, love's sacredness and strength; 
 But now, at length, 
 
 We know it is from heaven, 
 Binding our souls for aye through this 
 
 Dear child, God-given. 
 
 Dear child, through fear and pain thou cam'st ! 
 
 But rest thee now 
 
 Upon our loving hearts, the while we vow 
 To nourish in thee, day by day, 
 As parents may. 
 
 By grace that God doth give. 
 That life divine by which alone 
 
 All truly live. 
 
 43 
 
THE MOTHER IN UNITY WITH HER CHILD. 43 
 
 O Father God ! Life of all life ! 
 
 Love in all love: 
 
 In whom we have our being, live, and move — 
 Let this, thy life, flow undedled 
 Within our child ; 
 
 That we may be 
 Bound ever closer in thy love 
 
 To him and thee ! 
 
 II. 
 
 THE MOTHER IN UNIT? WITH HER CHILD. 
 
 Tell me, my little one, soft and pure. 
 
 What comes from thee to me. 
 Stirring me dimly, as stirs the spring. 
 
 With the joy of things to be ? 
 
 " 'Tis the faith which looks from my trusting eyes, 
 
 Faith in thy brooding care ; 
 'Tis the love which speaks iu my happy smile, 
 
 For I know no ' here ' nor ' there.' 
 
 " Only to lie in thy sheltering arms. 
 
 Where darkness cannot fright; 
 And to draw my life from thy loving breast, 
 
 Where, with fingers clinging tight, 
 
 " I tell, as only a baby can. 
 
 Of the hope that thou shalt be 
 In the coming years to my opening life 
 
 What thou art now to me ! " 
 
 Dear baby, again look into my eyes 
 
 While I look into thine ; 
 Together we'll spell life's lesson out ; 
 
 Thy faith shall still teach mine ! 
 
44 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 All that thy clinging, helpless love 
 
 Has told me I should be — 
 All that thy fond hope prophesies — 
 
 I'll strive to be for thee. 
 
 For the faith of thy innocent eyes forecasts 
 
 A larger faith than thine ; 
 And as thou drawest life from me, 
 
 I draw from the life divine. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE MOTHER'S JOT IN BEHOLDING HER CHILD. 
 
 Who can tell the mother's meaning, 
 When above the cradle leaning, 
 
 Where her baby lies, 
 She with it holds sweet communing ? 
 Broken words, or wordless crooning 
 
 For her need suffice ; 
 But within them, self-surrender. 
 High endeavour, patience tender. 
 
 Live as prophecies. 
 
 Oh, tell me, child, what fairy spell in thee 
 Makes all about thee still more dear to me ? 
 Why do I find in each caressing play 
 Such joy as angels in Heaven's service may ? 
 
 Ah, 'tis thy growing life ! which, like a flower 
 Now in the bud, brings with each newer hour 
 New promise of a beauty yet to be — 
 New joy with each fulfilling prophecy ! 
 
 All peacefully within its green defence 
 The young bud lies : so wrapped in innocence 
 Thou liest, dear; and as the opening bud 
 Unknowing gives its beauty to the wood. 
 
THE MOTHER AT PLAY WITH HER CHILD. 45 
 
 So thy sweet eyes make brighter all my day, 
 And shed their angel light upon my way ; 
 For as the sun shines in each flower we see, 
 Thy soul, from out thine eyes, doth shine on me ; 
 
 While like a victor claiming all his spoils 
 Thy baby lips, too, hold me in their toils ! 
 Yes, eyes and lips, all that thy ringlets crown, 
 Speak to my soul and mirror forth thine own. 
 
 Thy dimpled limbs, which now refuse thy weight, 
 Forecast a strength that shall make war with Fate ; 
 And all which now I fondle, kiss, and hold. 
 Is type of huTnan greatness manifold. 
 
 Thy very weakness seems a proof to me 
 Of human nature's higher dignity ! 
 For, full-equipped for all its lifelong round. 
 Each bird and beast at birth is ever found. 
 
 Ah. that is why my own best life is stirred 
 With every tender service or fond word 
 Bestowed on thee. To man — distinction proud ! — 
 Alone 'tis given to share the work of God ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE MOTHER AT PLAY WITH HER CHILD. 
 
 Whene'er your gaze with watchful love is bent 
 Upon your child, think well of what is meant 
 
 By each part needed for ao fair a whole. 
 You learn their value, knowing their intent. 
 
 And BO can teach them all to serve his soul. 
 
 I'm so proud of you. Baby, my darling, my own ! 
 Now listen : I'll tell you how you may be known. 
 
46 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Your dear little Head is too heavy, as yet. 
 But that's as it should be with babies, my pet. 
 Beneath your fair Forehead shine two happy Eyes : 
 I pray they may never grow too worldly wise !' 
 
 A " War of the Roses " is waged in your Cheek ! 
 (My fine phrases, sweet one, to you are but Greek I) 
 Your Ears, like pink shells, are to hear when I sing; 
 I hope they'll ne'er listen to any wrong thing. 
 
 Your queer little Nose is so cunning and round. 
 And your sweet baby Mouth beneath it is found ; 
 And when in your sleep your rosy Lips part. 
 Their silence is singing a psalm to my heart ! 
 
 And here is your Chin — pretty dimple and all; 
 It holds thousands of kisses, although it's so small. 
 Your white Throat and Neck are softer than down ; 
 And your fine little Back shows how strong you have 
 grown. 
 
 Your tiny, plump Hands, with their small Fingers five, 
 
 Are telling each day of a Mind that's alive. 
 
 In each Arm at the turn a dimple is set; 
 
 When they have grown strong, what a hugging I'll get! 
 
 Here's a fine, sturdy Chest, and beneath it I feel 
 
 Your tiny Heart beat. O ! through woe and through 
 
 v^eal. 
 May it ever beat true, and learn by-and-bye 
 How the Life that we live is fed from on high. 
 
 Here's a strong little Leg — a leg that can kick ! 
 Before we can think 'twill be striding a stick. 
 And here, at the last, are your ten little Toes, 
 Like tiny pink buds in two little rows. 
 
 Ah, sweet one! ere long you'll be running alone; 
 Tlien where will my own little Baby have gone ? 
 
THE MOTHER OBSERVING HER CHILD. 4Y 
 
 I shall miss the dear treasure I've held in my arms. 
 With its dimples and cooings and sweet baby charms. 
 
 Yes, out of his babyhood Baby must grow ; 
 A Soul is born with him — it stirs even now ; 
 'Twill unfold like a flower in God's sunshine and air: 
 May he help me to guard it, and keep it still fair! 
 
 V. 
 
 THE MOTHER OBSERVING THE DEVELOPMENT OP 
 HER CHILD. 
 
 As the mother hour by hour 
 Feels her child's awakening power, 
 
 Earnestly she prays 
 That the God of love will fold it 
 In his sheltering arms, and hold it 
 
 Ever in his ways. 
 
 But she knows that she is sent 
 To fulfil his love's intent 
 
 Towards her little one ; 
 And she quickens each endeavour. 
 For his love and care are ever 
 
 Working through her own. 
 
 How my baby is growing and changing apace ! 
 Each night a new dimple, each day a new grace. 
 His head grows so shapely, his forehead so fine! 
 With the gladness of seeing, his happy eyes shine. 
 His ear leans attent to each song that I sing, 
 And he eagerly smells every flower that I bring. 
 When I hold him upright, he springs on my knee. 
 And with mere joy of motion he laughs out in glee. 
 Already he grasps for a ball or a flower. 
 And holds it fast, too, with all his small power. 
 
48 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 And when in his bath he splashes and springs, 
 
 He feels the life in him, as birds feel their wings. 
 
 The life ? — yes, the life — and what does life mean? 
 
 It means the soul in us, the God-force unseen, 
 
 Which thrills into action through each wakening sense; 
 
 And through action brings slowly — we can not tell 
 
 whence — 
 A conscious self-seeing — we learn to say " I." 
 With the conscious " I icork " comes life's full ecstasy ! 
 
 VI. 
 THE MOTHER TALKING TO HER CHILD. 
 
 The mother who is true to her Bweet trust. 
 
 Feels herself richer every day. 
 Not only as a mother must — 
 
 Owning her babe — but in a way 
 Untenable to those who know it not, 
 And which, once known, can never be forgot I 
 
 With each caress, each care, each merry play. 
 Her own soul deepens for God's love ; 
 
 And as the sun with fervent ray 
 Draws each small flower to look above, 
 
 She draws her child's soul forth to meet her own, 
 
 And learns that love, in earth and heaven, is one. 
 
 Come, let me look into your heart, dear, 
 Through your beautiful, wondering eyes; 
 
 Now smile at mamma, and kiss her 
 In pretty baby wise. 
 
 And reach out your hands to mine, dear; 
 
 They shall bind our hearts in one! 
 Then put them up about my neck, 
 
 As you have often done. 
 
THE CHILD AT ITS MOTHER'S BREAST. 49 
 
 Next show mamma your little ears 
 
 Like sea-shells, pink and white. 
 Ah, here they are, for me to kiss ! 
 
 Your curls had hid them quite. 
 
 Now stiffen your chubhy, round legs, dear, 
 
 And stand up straight in my lap ; 
 I hold you now — ere many moons 
 
 You'll stand alone, mayhap. 
 
 But your life will still lean on mine, dear. 
 
 For mother and child must be 
 Drawn together through all their lives. 
 
 As the constant moon draws the sea. 
 
 Drawn together, though long miles should part — 
 Together, even as now. 
 While I fold you close to my loving heart. 
 And press a kiss on your brow. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE CHILD AT ITS MOTHER'S BREAST. 
 
 It is not food alone. 
 
 Thy little one 
 
 Asks for from out thy store — 
 
 He craves far more. 
 
 With instinct deep and true. 
 
 He asks from you 
 
 That whioh you iirst must have. 
 
 If you would give — 
 
 A love God-sent, 
 
 That grows with being spent ! 
 
 With what a pretty greed 
 
 A baby seeks its food ! 
 Rounding its sweet, expectant lips, 
 Pressing its rosy finger-tips 
 
 With inborn aptitude. 
 
50 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 A lovely parable 
 
 For mother's reading writ ! 
 Your baby's soul expectant stands, 
 Waiting for food from out your haads- 
 
 See that you nourish it ! 
 
FROEBEL'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 THE COMMENTARIES. 
 
FROEBEL'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 THE COMMENTARIES. 
 
 You are gazing, dear mother, at your child. 
 You revere in him a great gift from God. You 
 believe that God intrusts him to you for thought- 
 ful consideration, for careful nurture. Your 
 soul is inflamed by an intuition of the truth that 
 in this dear little one the Father of all being 
 grants you a revelation of himself. You know- 
 that God is One, and since your child is in his 
 image you are sure that he, too, is a unity indi- 
 visible and indissoluble. 
 
 But while you are thus assured of the unity 
 of your child's being, there streams through your 
 soul a presentiment that this unity must develop 
 into and manifest itself through manifoldness 
 and particularity. Nor is this all ; but with 
 this prophetic anticipation of the form of your 
 child's self -revelation your soul thrills with the 
 certainty that in his manifestation of unity in 
 the manifold you shall behold as in a mirror 
 your own spiritual image. 
 
 Since your child is unity and yet must reveal 
 himself in and through manifoldness, it follows 
 as incidental to his self-revelation that there 
 
 53 
 
54 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 must arise contradictions and dissonances. In 
 the midst of such contradictions, however, your 
 own soul may be at peace ; nay, more, you may 
 win inexpressible blessedness from the convic- 
 tion that in and through the process of life all 
 contradictions shall be solved, all antagonisms 
 harmonised. As the varied appearances of the 
 outer world are reflected in harmonious relation- 
 ship in the clear sea of your eye, so the varied 
 phenomena of your child's self -revelation become 
 mutually explanatory when life is apprehended 
 as one great whole. The idea of the whole is the 
 ocean of joy which mirrors in their relationship 
 and unity the isolated phenomena of a progres- 
 sive experience. 
 
 Through reading the soul of your child, dear 
 mother, you will learn to harmonise the contra- 
 dictions of his self-revelation with the unity of 
 his essence. The movements of his body, the exer- 
 cise of his limbs, the activity of his senses, do 
 they not all relate to and react upon the one cen- 
 tral and controlling impulse to reveal and com- 
 prehend life as a unity in the manifoldness of 
 particulars ? Do they not declare the effort of 
 the ego to feel itself, to represent itself, and to ap- 
 propriate, assimilate, and re-create the external 
 world ? Does not even the healthy tree appro- 
 priate matter from its environment, and, true to 
 the law of its own nature, transform it into foli- 
 age, blossom, and fruit ? Ponder this analogy, 
 and gradually, through recognition of the accord 
 and identity of all life, you will gain insight into 
 the truth that the One Great Life utters itself in 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 55 
 
 the manifestations of your child, and there will 
 dawn upon you the consciousuess of your child's 
 true essence — the essence of spirit. 
 
 Reflective and contemplative mother, strive to 
 define to yourself what it is which rejoices you 
 in your child, and how it is that you find your 
 own life mirrored in his. Does not your joy 
 spring from the fact that identity of selfhood 
 manifests itself progressively as essence, life, 
 soul, spirit, "and rises through instinct, feel- 
 ing, perception, consciousness to clear self-knowl- 
 edge " ? And the source of your crowning bless- 
 edness, is it not that this self-identity is revealed 
 in the manifoldness — yea, let me dare to say it, in 
 the discords and contradictions — of life ? Let it 
 be your aim to overcome the contradictions be- 
 tween your child's isolated manifestations by a 
 wise and tender nurture ; so shall you help him 
 to win that harmony of life which is a synthesis 
 wrought of discords. 
 
 Through your effort to strengthen and develop 
 your dear one's power, through your nurture of 
 his affections, and through pondering reverently 
 the varied forms in which his inner life seeks ex- 
 pression, there will gradually arise in your mind 
 the conviction that the child not only feels the 
 unity pf his own being, but has also a yearning 
 presentiment of the truth that there is a core of 
 unity in each and every being. Nor is his pre- 
 sentiment limited to the sense of many distinct 
 and separate unities. On the contrary, just in pro- 
 portion as he feels in himself a single source and 
 fountain of life, his mind is lighted by a fore- 
 
56 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 gleam of the truth that back to this living foun- 
 tain is to be traced the life of all things. In other 
 words, his mind anticipates in feeling the insight 
 which you, devout mother, consciously possess — 
 the insight that his soul is a spark of the divine 
 Life and therefore itself divine, and, furthermore, 
 that all existing things and all living creatures 
 manifest in various forms and in ascending de- 
 grees the life of God. 
 
 Illuminated by this insight, it becomes your 
 highest joy, your most sacred duty, to educate 
 your child as a unity, whole and complete in 
 himself and yet related essentially to Nature, to 
 Humanity, and to God. In a single word, recog- 
 nising him as implicitly the child of God, your 
 devout aim will be so to educate him that he shall 
 become actually the child of God. 
 
 Yes, you say, that is my aim. But in what 
 way and by what means may this aim be real- 
 ised ? The answer to this question is written in 
 your own heart, and utters itself artlessly and un- 
 consciously in all your simple motherly ways 
 and words. Through them you speak to yourself 
 and tell yourself what to do. 
 
 And what says your instinctive procedure ? 
 It points you for the ways and means of develop- 
 ment to the child's bodj^ in its manifoldness and 
 unity. It points you to his limbs and senses ; to 
 the hints he gives you that he has begun to notice 
 the things about him; to his wrestlings and 
 grapplings with the outer world, as shown in 
 the effort to reach, grasp, and hold. It points 
 you to his nascent feeling of personality, and to 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 57 
 
 his awakening sense of relationship to yourself 
 and to all the persons with whom he is brought 
 into contact. Such are the hints thrown out by 
 your own instinctive words and deeds. O devout 
 and contemplative mother, revere their truth and 
 obey their suggestion ! Your child must be 
 educated in conformity with his own nature, 
 in relationship to his total environment, and 
 in obedience to the laws which govern both. 
 Through his body he is united with the world of 
 matter ; through his limbs he is connected with 
 an environment which he is ever creating anew 
 out of himself ; through touch and taste, smell, 
 hearing, and sight, he receives incitement from 
 the world of sense; through his nascent feel- 
 ing of self, through the stirrings of phantasy, 
 through a dreaming and half-waking conscious- 
 ness he is related to — nay, shown to be in essence 
 — one with the total world of life and thought. 
 To comprehend him in his essence and mani- 
 festation, in his self-activity and independence, 
 and yet in his relationship to and fundamen- 
 tal identity with his environment — finally, to 
 guard him, to nurture him, and to develop him in 
 harmony with the demands implied by his nature 
 and his relationships — such, devout mother, is 
 the aim of education ! 
 
 What, then, are the phenomena through which 
 the nature of your child reveals itself ? What 
 can they be other than the phenomena present 
 wherever an invisible i;nity of essence manifests 
 itself in form, whether it be in the realm of plant 
 life, of animal life, or of human life ? 
 6 
 
58 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Compare the seed and the egg with the 
 full-grown plant and the fledged bird. Study 
 the analogous development of feeling and of 
 thought. Out of the indefinite the definite is 
 born. The indefinite is the husk of a rich kernel 
 of life. Watch this inner life as it struggles for 
 expression in the swelling buds on the trees, in 
 the growth of young animals, in the impulses 
 of infancy. It will rejoice you to behold the life 
 of your child overflowing in activity. It will re- 
 joice you none the less to observe his suscepti- 
 bility to the incitement which the life outside of 
 him offers to his own. Like young plants and 
 young animals, he responds to the subtlest 
 changes of light and heat. Akin to his suscep- 
 tibility is his excitability. The strings of his soul 
 vibrate responsive to the lightest touch. Even 
 so the tender plantlet and the unfledged bird are 
 affected by almost imperceptible influences and 
 modified by the least change in their environment. 
 
 Too often the susceptibility and excitability 
 of your child bring grief both upon him and 
 upon you. Nevertheless it is through them that, 
 like the germinating seed and the growing bird, 
 he attracts to himself the influences necessary for 
 his development, and achieves spontaneously his 
 own distinctive bodily type and his own mental 
 individuality. 
 
 More potent, however, than all external stim- 
 uli is the child's passionate impulse towards a 
 development of his own inner being which shall 
 be on the one hand spontaneous and on the 
 other in accord with the universal trend of life. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 59 
 
 This passion declares itself in his incessant ac- 
 tivity and during the periods of infancy and 
 early childhood manifests itself particularly in 
 bodily movement and in the energy of sense. 
 Hence, notwithstanding the purity of its motive 
 it often begets misunderstanding and gloom, 
 wrong-doing, strife, and pain. 
 
 In the education of your child, therefore, let 
 your point of departure be an effort to strengthen 
 and develop his body, his limbs, and his senses. 
 From this development of body, limb and sense 
 rise to their use. Move from impressions to per- 
 ceptions ; from perception to attentive observa- 
 tion and contemplation ; from the recognition of 
 particular objects to their relations and depend- 
 encies ; from the healthy life of the body to the 
 healthy life of the spirit ; from thought immanent 
 in experience to pure thinking. Ascend thus 
 from sensation to thought ; from external obser- 
 vation to internal apprehension; from physical 
 combination to spiritual synthesis ; from a for- 
 mal to a vital intellectual grasp, and so to the 
 culture of the understanding ; from the observa- 
 tion of phenomena and their relations to the 
 recognition of their final cause, and hence to the 
 development and culture of life-grasping reason. 
 By such procedure there will be formed in the 
 pupil at the goal of his education the clear and 
 transparent soul-picture of each particular being, 
 including himself, of the great whole to which all 
 particular beings belong as members, and of the 
 truth that the particular being reflects as in a 
 mirror the universal life. 
 
60 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Lead your child from the fact to the picture, 
 from the picture to the symbol, from the symbol 
 to grasp of the fact as a spiritual whole. Thus 
 will be developed the ideas of member and whole, 
 of the individual and the universal. Educate 
 yoiir child in this manner, and at the goal of his 
 education he will recognise himself as the living 
 member of a living whole, and will know that his 
 life mirrors the life of his family, his people, hu- 
 manity, the being and life of God who works in 
 all and through all. Having attained to a clear 
 vision of the universal life, his conscious aim will 
 be to manifest it in his feeling and thought, in 
 his relationships and his deeds. Through the 
 self-consecration begotten of this lofty ideal he 
 will learn to understand nature, human experi- 
 ence, and the prescient yearnings of his own 
 soul. His individual life will flow with the cur- 
 rents of nature and of humanity, and move to- 
 wards a realisation of the divine ideal immanent 
 in both. Hence his life will be a life of peace 
 and joy, and the yearnings which you felt as you 
 carried your unborn babe beneath your heart will 
 be fulfilled. 
 
 II. 
 
 Have you ever asked yourself, thoughtful 
 mother, what means the fervent glow which both 
 warms and illuminates your soul as you sit gaz- 
 ing upon the dear child lying so peacefully in 
 your arms ? Have you ever asked yourself what 
 it is that clothes with dignity and grace each sim- 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 61 
 
 pie service you render ? what enables you to per- 
 form without repulsion duties in themselves not 
 only commonplace but disagreeable ? what gives 
 you the calmness, patience, courage, and self- 
 sacrifice to meet those phenomena in your child's 
 life which cause you . anxiety and pain ? I an- 
 swer for you : It is because each ' trivial deed, 
 whether it concern the cleanliness of your child, 
 his nourishment, or the orderly succession of his 
 little experiences, is grasped by you in its relation 
 to and recoil upon the whole of life. It is because, 
 if not with the vision of the intellect, yet with the 
 premonition of the heart, you survey your child's 
 life in its unity, and realise that each detail of his 
 experience will continue to influence his history 
 with a power that augments as life proceeds. In 
 a word, it is because your soul forecasts his future, 
 and in the seeds of the present anticipates the har- 
 vest that is to be. 
 
 If you aspire so to nurture your child that he 
 shall hereafter fulfil the duties of his calling as 
 you fulfil the duties of your maternal vocation ; 
 if you wish him to be faithful in least things, 
 never to shirk repulsive duties, and to conquer 
 the virtues of forethought, courage, and temper- 
 ance, you must endeavour not only to stir his 
 soul with a premonition of the wholeness of life, 
 but also, so far as possible, to lead him to a con- 
 scious realisation of the fact that experience is a 
 connected process, and that he must hold fast to 
 this continuity both in thought and in deed. In 
 so far as you illuminate his mind with a fore- 
 gleam of this truth will his life manifest upon 
 
62 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 each plane of development those noble qualities 
 which your own life now displays. 
 
 A dream of the unity of life is characteristic 
 of childhood. Because this dream is treated as an 
 illusion and torn from us, our mature years are 
 empty, shallow, and ineffectual, and we fail to re- 
 enforce the minute by the hour, the hour by the 
 day. Missing the insight into which our childish 
 vision might have been transfigured, or gaining 
 it too late, we lose the fairest years of life and 
 learn no lesson from those experiences which were 
 richest in their possibilities. 
 
 What is the fairest phenomenon of human 
 life ? What phenomenon is freighted with deep- 
 est and tenderest suggestion ? To what phenome- 
 non does art most tirelessly recur ? Is it not the 
 phenomenon of infancy, or, rather, is it not in- 
 fancy and motherhood in inmost unity and reci- 
 procity ? Art, however, presents this phenomenon 
 under only one of its aspects, though it conceives 
 this aspect in its loftiest and most ideal form. 
 But where are the countless other aspects of 
 mother-love fostering and developing the infant 
 life ? They are lost in a sea of forgetfulness. 
 Yet, if we but knew it, they are the waves upon 
 which the storm-tossed ship of life might ride 
 safely into harbour. 
 
 And now, dear mother, let me try to state 
 briefly what I offer you in this little book of 
 songs and plays. It is an attempt to aid you to 
 recognise in the period of earliest childhood the 
 germ of all later life. It aims to interpret to you 
 your own instinctive words and deeds, and to help 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 63 
 
 you to a clear consciousness both of what you are 
 trying to do for your child, and of the inner im- 
 pulse whence your effort proceeds. Accept the 
 book in a kindly and thoughtful spirit ; study the 
 plays ; study especially the pictures. Be not too 
 critical of the form of the one or of the artistic 
 merit of the other. Remember that the aim and 
 spirit of the book are. novel, and that I am break- 
 ing a path through unexplored regions of experi- 
 ence. My success must necessarily be partial and 
 imperfect. Nevertheless, I hope to make clear to 
 you truths which you have felt but have not ap- 
 prehended, which you have therefore often mis- 
 interpreted in your actions, and which at best you 
 have applied in a detached and hence ineffectual 
 form. If my book lifts your hidden impulses into 
 the light of consciousness, and teaches you so to 
 relate your actions as to make them truly educa- 
 tive, you will not be critical of its literary short- 
 comings. 
 
 But this book has a mission to fulfil for your 
 child as well as for you. As a mother's book, it 
 illuminates the present and forecasts the f iiture. 
 As a child's book, it preserves a too easily forgot- 
 ten past and endows the early years of life with 
 continuity. This mission can be fulfilled only as 
 song, story, and picture are vivified by your 
 thought and warmed by your heart. When, 
 therefore, your child has entered upon that stage 
 of development wherein thought mounts from 
 object to picture, and in the picture discerns the 
 symbol, use this book so that it may preserve for 
 him the first tender buds of thought and experi- 
 
64 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 ence, and help him to conceive his life not in the 
 isolation of its particular acts but in the unity of 
 its process. By so doing you will bridge the gulf 
 between the unconscious and conscious periods of 
 life. You will make the plays of infancy a round 
 in that ladder of experience over which the soul 
 climbs towards self-realisation and self-knowl- 
 edge. You will also be preparing your child for 
 the retrospective glance which shall assign to 
 each round of this ascending ladder its own pe- 
 culiar place. 
 
 Recall the feelings which were wakened in 
 you by the sight of your firstborn child. Re- 
 mind yourself of the thrill with which, as he lay 
 cradled in your arms, you noted his feeble and 
 aimless movements. Are not these feelings, with 
 their tender and yet peremptory incitement to 
 nurture, worthy of being themselves nurtured ? 
 Is not their nurture essential to the well-being of 
 your child and the peace of your own soul ? 
 Should we not spurn the suggestion that they can 
 be ephemeral ? Were they not well-springs of 
 ineffable joy ? Did they not stir your soul with 
 a blessedness too deep for utterance ? Did they 
 not transfigure you into a being of nobler and 
 fairer mould ? Did not your outer semblance 
 take on a new, strange beauty born of the celes- 
 tial purity of your transfigured soul ? 
 
 Why was your soul thus exalted, your coun- 
 tenance thus transfigured, as you gazed upon your 
 infant child ? You need no words of mine to an- 
 swer this question. Your whole nature was up- 
 lifted by your realisation of the truth that an in- 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 65 
 
 expressible blessedness is conferred whenever a 
 new soul comes into being. 
 
 We scout the suggestion that the feelings 
 wakened in you by the sight of your newborn 
 infant can ever die. Yet must not we — must not 
 you — admit that in the effort to give him phys- 
 ical care and to meet his practical needs, these 
 feelings too often grow cold, too often pass away ? 
 Should you reconcile yourself to their loss ? Are 
 they granted to you only as the sweet reward of 
 those unspeakable throes through which God's 
 heavenly gift receives earthly being ? or is the 
 consecration to which your soul is stirred by a 
 celestial breeze wafted from your helpless babe, 
 destined to rise into ever clearer consciousness 
 and to bless you and him so long as he shall live, 
 or at the very least so long as he needs your fos- 
 tering care, and until he stands before you a free, 
 self-determining, and responsible man ? My own 
 faith you will have already divined. May I illus- 
 trate by a picture drawn from my own experi- 
 ence ? 
 
 In my early boyhood, when a feeling for na- 
 ture was just beginning to stir within me, I found 
 one day, hidden beneath a hedge of white roses, a 
 tiny five-petaled flower of rosy colour and having 
 in its centre five golden points. Hundreds of f ai rer 
 flowers blossomed in my father's garden and were 
 cultivated by him with anxious care. This sim- 
 ple child of Nature bloomed unheeded in a hid- 
 den spot. Yet it was precisely this insignificant 
 floweret which more than any other attracted 
 and held my imagination, andiwhen I peered into 
 
66 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 its heart and saw the golden stars I seemed to 
 myself to have discovered a bottomless depth. 
 For months and years, whenever this flower was 
 in blossom, I was wont to stand by the hour gaz- 
 ing into its mysterious heart. It seemed to be 
 forever trying to say to me something which I 
 could not understand. I never grew tired of 
 looking. I was always sure that some day I 
 should read its secret. ^ 
 
 With just such a love, such a longing, such a 
 presentiment, do you, dear mother, gaze at the 
 child opening like a bud before your vision. You 
 look into the clear sea of his eye ; in this sea you 
 behold the whole heaven reflected. My gaze into 
 my flower was like your gaze at your child. 
 Hence, without the mediation of words I under- 
 stand you and you understand me. But the boy 
 wandered from his home — put far behind him 
 the lovely garden, and forgot the flower. In 
 youth he rediscovered it, and this time in the 
 early spring, and in the close neighbourhood of a 
 hazelnut bush. The latter plant had also meant 
 much to him in an epoch-making moment of 
 life.* Picture to yourself the joy with which the 
 
 * I was often a mute witness of the strict way in which my 
 father performed his pastoral duties, and of the frequent scenes 
 between him and the many people who came to the parsonage 
 to seek advice and consolation. I was thus again constantly 
 attracted from the outer to the inner aspects of life. Life, 
 with its inmost motives laid bare, passed before my eyes, with 
 my father's comments pronounced upon it ; and thing and 
 word, act and symbol, were thus perceived by me in their most 
 vivid relationship. I saw the disjointed, heavy-laden, torn, in- 
 
IKTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 67 
 
 youth, now on terms of close intimacy with Na- 
 ture, found in this close conjunction the two 
 plants which had stirred his childish soul with 
 deepest presentiments. The old longing awoke in 
 him. It was in a measure satisfied, for the flow- 
 ers declared to him in their own speech the secret 
 of existence and the mysterious law of develop- 
 ment. But once again the secret was forgotten — 
 whirled by the vortex of life into the unconscious 
 depths of the soul. 
 
 harmonious life of man as it appeared in this community of five 
 thousand souls, before the watcliful eyes of its earnest, severe 
 pastor. Matrimonial and sexual irregularities especially were 
 often the objects of my father's gravest condemnation and re- 
 buke. The way in which he spoke about these matters showed 
 me that they formed one of the most oppressive and difficult 
 parts of human conduct; and, in my youth and innocence, I 
 felt a deep pain and sorrow that man alone, among all crea- 
 tures, should be doomed to these separations of sex, whereby the 
 right path was made so difficult for him to find. I felt it a 
 real necessity for the satisfaction of my heart and mind to 
 reconcile this difficulty, and yet could find no way to do so. 
 How could I, at that age and in my position? But my eldest 
 brother — who, like all my elder brothers, lived away from home — 
 came to stay with us for a time ; and one day, when I expressed 
 ray delight at seeing the purple threads of the hazel-buds, he 
 made me aware of a sexual difference in plants. Now was my 
 spirit at rest. I recognised that what had so weighed upon me 
 was an institution spread over all Nature, to which even the 
 silent, beautiful race of flowers was submitted. From that time 
 humanity and Nature, the life of the soul and the life of the 
 flower, were closely knit together in my mind ; and I can still 
 see my hazel-buds, like angels, opening for me the great God's 
 temple of Nature. — Autobiography of Friedrich Froebel, trans- 
 lated by Emilie Michaelis and H. Keatley Moore, pages 11, IS. 
 
(58 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 In mature manhood, when I had foucd my 
 life-calling and consecrated my strength to it, I 
 once more came across my flower. The presenti- 
 ment which the frail and perishing blossom had 
 awakened in my soul had ripened into insight, 
 and I had recognised its true symbol in the deep- 
 rooted, wide-branching, long-living tree. I had 
 rediscovered that mystic tree of knowledge of 
 good and evil that grew in paradise, and learned 
 from it to discriminate between right and wrong, 
 between illusion and reality. Now, at last, after 
 fifty years, I know why in my musing boyhood I 
 loved to peer into the heart of the flower. It was 
 because my soul was stirred by a presentiment , 
 of the depth and meaning of life. What I beheld 
 in symbol you, mother, behold in reality in your 
 dear baby. Must fifty years pass over your head, 
 as over mine, before you understand what his life 
 is telling you about itself and about all life ? 
 Must you, too, wait until life is nearly over be- 
 fore you know what it means ? Of what avail 
 will such tardy knowledge be to you or to your 
 child ? 
 
 What shall we learn from our yearning 
 look into the heart of the flower and the eye of 
 the child ? This truth : Whatever develops, be 
 it into flower or tree or man, is from the begin- 
 ning implicitly that which it has the power to 
 become. The possibility of perfect manhood is 
 what you read in your child's eye, just as the 
 perfect flower is prophesied in the bud or the 
 giant oak in the tiny acorn. A presentiment 
 that the ideal or generic human being slumbers. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE COMMENTARIES. 69 
 
 dreams, stirs in your unconscious infant — this 
 it is, O mother, which transfigures yoii as you 
 gaze upon him. Strive to define to yourself 
 what is that generic ideal which is wrapped up 
 in your child. Surely, as your child — or, in 
 other words, as child of man — ^he is destined to 
 live in the past and future as well as in the pres- 
 ent. His earthly being implies a past heaven; 
 his birth makes a present heaven ; in his soul he 
 holds a future heaven. This threefold heaven, 
 which you also bear within you, shines out on 
 you through your child's eyes. 
 
 The beast lives only in the present. Of past 
 and future he knows naught. But to man be- 
 long not only the present, but also the future 
 and the past. His thought pierces the heaven of 
 the future and hope is born. He learns that all 
 human life is one life ; that all human joys and 
 sorrows are his joys and sorrows, and through 
 participation enters the present heaven — the 
 heaven of love. He turns his mind towards the 
 past, and out of retrospection wrests a vigorous 
 faith. What soul could fail to conquer an in- 
 vincible trust, in the pure, the good, the holy, 
 the ideally human, the truly divine, if it would 
 look with single eye into its own past, into 
 the past of history ? Could there be a man in 
 whose soul such a contemplation of the past 
 would fail to blossom into devout insight, into 
 self - conscious and self - comprehending faith ? 
 Must not such a retrospect unveil the truth ? 
 Must not the beauty of the unveiled truth al- 
 lure him, to divine doing, divine living ? All 
 
70 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 that is high and holy in human life meets in 
 that faith which is born of the unveiling of a 
 heaven that has always been ; in that hope born 
 of a vision of the heaven that shall be ; in that 
 love which creates a heaven in the eternal now. 
 These three heavens shine out upon you through 
 your child's eye. The presentiment that he car- 
 ries these three heave as within him transfigures 
 your countenance as you gaze upon him. Cher- 
 ish this premonition, for thereby you will help 
 him to make his life a musical chord wherein 
 are blended the three notes of faith, hope, and 
 love. These celestial virtues will link his life 
 with the divine life, through which all life is one 
 ■ — with the God who is the supernal fountain of 
 Life, Light, and Love. 
 
MOTTOES AND COMMENTARIES. 
 

 iStrampfclbefn. 
 
 „ SBenn Sinbd)en jur Suft 3(rra' 
 
 3n bet 2)}»ttrt bit SpieHufl mi( 
 
 bem Jttnbe fid) regt. 
 Sum ©ij)6t>fct ill itir bits jut 
 
 3Deifung gege&en : 
 Sf^on fritfe im Sinbe 
 ©etoflnbt, gellnbc 
 Dutd) Sug'rea ju tiflegen fein 
 
 innereS £ef'en ; 
 Durii ©(^cije unb ®fiel£ unb 
 
 flnnigeS 31tc(en 
 ©efiifcle, gmpjiiibuns unb 
 
 nu roerfen." 
 
 
 73 
 
I. 
 
 PLAY WITH THE LIMBS. 
 
 Watch a mother's answering play, 
 
 When her happy baby kicks ! 
 She "will brace her hands to please him, 
 Or in loving sort she'll tease him 
 
 With her playful tricks. 
 
 This is not mere fond caprice — 
 
 God inspires the pretty strife ; 
 She is leading a beginner 
 Through the outer to the inner 
 
 Of his groping life. 
 
 Is it not true, thouglitful motlier, that in all 
 you do for and with your child you are seeking 
 one aim, returning forever to one central point 
 of endeavour ? This aim is the nurture of life. 
 The impulse to foster life is the very core of your 
 motherly being. It gives unity to your feeling, 
 thought, and action. It explains why your feel- 
 ing, thought, and activity rise in unison to meet 
 each manifestatiou of life and activity in your 
 child. 
 
 Nothing gives you greater joy than this ebulli- 
 ent life, provided that its manifestations are strong, 
 calm, and in accord with the laws of nature. 
 Unless your motherly instinct has been warped 
 by habit, prejudice, or misunderstanding of itself, 
 it responds at once to the movements of your 
 7 73 
 
74 Mother play. 
 
 cliild. You will foster his impulsive movements, 
 exercise his strength, cultivate his activity, and 
 prepare him through doing for seeing, through 
 the exertion of his power for its comprehension. 
 In a word, you will seek through self -activity to 
 lead him to self-knowledge. 
 
 Your child lies on a clean cushion hefore you. 
 He has been invigorated by his morning bath. 
 He is now enjoying a strengthening air bath. 
 In the bliss of perfect health he is striking out 
 with his little arms and kicking about with his 
 chubby feet. Your instinct tells you that he is 
 seeking an object against which he may measure 
 his strength, and by measuring increase and en- 
 joy it. To the need indicated by his lively move- 
 ments your motherly love promptly responds, and 
 you hold your hands so that the little feet may 
 alternately strike against them. 
 
 But you are not satisfied with this merely 
 physical nurture. You long to nourish your 
 baby's feelings, to stir the pulses of his heart. 
 He shall not only learn through your strength to 
 know his own. In some way, in some slight de- 
 gree, you must make him feel the love which in- 
 spires all you do. Hence, as the little play goes 
 on, you begin to sing ; and love, the melody of 
 the heart, is revealed in the melody of the voice. 
 
 The theme of your song is suggested by the 
 lamp which burns beside you through the long 
 nights during which your sleepless love watches 
 over your baby. It was by an evenly exercised 
 strength that oil was pressed from hemp and 
 poppy seed. As your child matures you may find 
 
PLAY WITH THE LIMBS. Y5 
 
 in this symbol a means of leading him first to feel, 
 and later to understand, that his harmoniously 
 developing activity is the oil which feeds the 
 sacred fire of your love. 
 
 The picture which accompanies this game 
 shows you an oil mill. Near it grow a poppy 
 plant and a hemp plant. Use this picture to 
 explain to your child, as he grows older, how oil 
 is made. Avail yourself also of any opportunity 
 which may offer to show him the oil mill itself. 
 
 The upper part of our picture shows a moth- 
 er who has found occasion to visit an oil mill 
 Avith her little family. Each child is busy repro- 
 ducing in his own fashion his new experience. 
 Wishing to stir the imaginations of her children 
 with a presentiment of the Hying, loving, active 
 power which works throughout Nature, the 
 mother has led them into the mountain valley 
 close by the mill. At the head of the stream 
 which flows through this valley the older boy 
 has found a place to set up his toy mill. The 
 water keeps it going merrily. The younger 
 brother looks on in mute amazement. He shades 
 his eyes from the blinding sun that it may not 
 prevent him from gazing at his brother's work. 
 The sister seeks ends of her own, and seeks them 
 in the shortest and simplest way. Wading with 
 sturdy bare feet in the clear brook, she kneads 
 the fine sand into a plastic dough. 
 
 Surrounded by her busy children, the mother 
 sits musing. She is asking herself why it is that, 
 with the same nurture and under the same influ- 
 ences, each child shows a different individuality. 
 
76 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 In the mirror of their spontaneous play she be- 
 holds the later life of her three children. Each 
 child feels the fascination of the water and its 
 mj^sterious force ; yet each is differently affected 
 by the one fascination. 
 
 The elder boy (so thinks his mother) will one 
 day bend the force of life by means of his intelli- 
 gence to purposes of his own choosing. The little 
 girl will not know how to use external means 
 to gain her ends. She will hold her aims in her 
 heart and pursue them through her own deed and 
 sacrifice. The younger brother will follow still 
 another path. He is one who will strive to un- 
 derstand the nature of force and the method of 
 its activity. 
 
 Each one of the playing children is living a 
 present life which is rich and full. The mother 
 is enjoying the wealth and fulness of the future 
 and the past as well as the wealth and fulness of 
 the present. She has noticed the woman who, 
 basket on arm, is climbing the hill. " Where are 
 you going, my good woman ? "' she asks, and the 
 latter answers : " I am going to the oil mill, to see 
 if the rich miller will not give me oil in return 
 for what I am carrying to him in my basket. 
 My little baby is ill, and I must watch all night 
 beside him. I want bread, too, for I cannot earn 
 anything now, and yet my poor child must eat." 
 These words bring back to our mother's mind 
 the little game she played with her babies in days 
 gone by, and as she looks at her children and 
 thinks about them, she asks, " Will their future 
 lives thankfully reward their mother's love ? " 
 
II. 
 
 FALLING! FALLING! 
 
 A GAME TO STRENGTHEN THE WHOLE BODY. 
 
 All a mother does or says 
 
 Is inspired by thoughtful love. 
 '' Falling ! falling !" she is playing, 
 But her hand the fall is staying, 
 
 So her love to ^trove. 
 
 To her child her life is given. 
 
 Thought, and word, and deed, and prayer ; 
 
 And her hold, an instant broken, 
 
 To his mind is but a token 
 Of her constant care. 
 
 Soon her arms must loose their hold. 
 
 Not, as now, in pretty play — 
 Keeping still their circle round him, 
 That no jar or fright may wound him — 
 
 But for all the day. 
 
 And for this, her thought and love 
 
 Must his little life prepare : 
 Teaching first how she is needed. 
 That through her fond cautions heeded 
 
 He may learn self-care. 
 
 It often happens that what lies close at hand 
 is overlooked. Through such an oversight this 
 little game is without a picture to illustrate and 
 explain it. The song and motto, however, ex- 
 plain themselves, and the game is a perfectly'' 
 simple one. 
 
 77 
 
78 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 You are standing, dear mother, beside a table 
 upon which lies a soft cushion, or perhaps beside 
 your baby's crib. Your darling is half-sitting, 
 half-lying on his plump back in a basket which 
 you have made out of your hands. You hold him 
 thus a little above the cushion, then, gently with- 
 drawing your hands, let him fall upon it with 
 just sufficient force to give him a slight shock. 
 
 This game may be played in another way. 
 The child lies before you on a cushion. You take 
 hold of his hands and raise him into a sitting 
 position, then, letting go his hands, you allow 
 him to slip back again on the cushion. In this 
 case, too, he experiences a slight shock. 
 
 Through this falling or slipping play, in which 
 he is watched over by your love and protected by 
 your care, your baby increases both his strength 
 and his consciousness of strength. As he grows 
 older you will find many opportunities to show 
 him that without such watchful care slips and 
 falls may easily become serious, and even dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 Yonder is a child gliding in his sledge over 
 the slippery snow. His eye is not sure, his hand 
 is not strong ; he falls. Fortunately he gets only 
 a slight bruise on his leg. What says his pain ? 
 " Train your eye, exercise your strength, so that 
 in future you may avoid a fall." Yonder, again, 
 is a boy skating. Heedlessly his eye wanders 
 from one thing to another ; heedlessly he lets 
 his feet and legs go where they will. He falls, 
 but happily only grazes his hand. Collect your 
 mind, fix your eye, rule your feet and legs, that 
 
FALLING! PALLING 1 79 
 
 you may not fall again — so says his aching hand. 
 But see ! here a little girl has dropped a plate, 
 yonder a boy has let fall a goblet ; yet neither 
 girl nor boy had once looked away from the 
 object in their hands — both had been watchful and 
 careful. Why, then, had they dropped what they 
 were carrying ? Their grasp had not been 
 strong ; they had not really used the strength of 
 their hands and fingers. Many a fall and many 
 a loss come from anxious care mated with weak- 
 ness. Draw these pictures from life for your 
 child and set them before him as need and occa- 
 sion call for them. So doing, both you and he 
 will learn the lesson of the falling game, and 
 neither of you will miss the illustration which 
 should have accompanied it. 
 
80 
 
in. 
 
 THE WEATHER VANE. 
 
 A GAME FOR EXERCISING THE JOINTS OF THE HAND AND 
 ELBOW. 
 
 Watch as your baby grows, and you will see 
 That bis wbole life, wherever be may be. 
 Is a perpetual mimicry. 
 
 An engine now, be puffs with all his might ; 
 Anon, with brows perplexed, he feigns to write — 
 Or strides his chair, a mounted knight. 
 
 Brimming with life, but knowing not as yet 
 Even the letters of its alphabet. 
 He imitates each pattern set. 
 
 And watching him, perchance you question why 
 Each new activity that meets his eye 
 Excites him his own skill to try. 
 
 His is an instinct ignorantly wise I 
 
 Only in doing can he realise 
 
 The thing that's done beneath his eyes. 
 
 A stranger 'midst the surging life of men. 
 He to his own life-stature shall attain 
 By taking — to give back again. 
 
 The forearm and hand of the child are held 
 as nearly upright as possible ; the fingers are 
 spread out to form the tail of the weather-cock ; 
 the flat hand makes its body, the little thumb 
 its throat and head. The hand is moved to and 
 
 81 
 
82 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 fro in imitation of the movement of the -weather- 
 cock. 
 
 " This play," you say, " is too simple." Yet it 
 delights your child, and it is long before it ceases 
 to give him fresh pleasure every time it is 
 played. 
 
 He is not yet able to speak, yet see not only 
 with what pleasure but with what seriousness he 
 moves his little hand whenever you bid him show 
 how the weather-cock turns ! Why is he so pleased 
 and yet so serious ? Have you never moved an 
 object before him in such a way that the motive 
 power is not apparent ? Have you never noticed 
 that to search for this motive power gives him 
 greater pleasure than to watch the moving object ? 
 His pleasure in moving his hand comes from the 
 same source. He feels and controls the origin of 
 a movement, the cause of an effect ; this it is 
 which fills his heart with such serious joy. He 
 is experiencing the fact that a moving object has 
 its ground in a moving force ; soon he will con- 
 clude that living objects have their ground in a 
 living force. 
 
 On a windy, almost stormy day your dear 
 children go with you to the drying place in front 
 of your house. Where do children not love to 
 follow a mother who is active and busy ? 
 
 Hark ! how the vane creaks on the tower ! The 
 wind keeps it going merrily to and fro. Here 
 come a hen and rooster ; they cannot turn about 
 so quickly as the weather-cock, but the wind 
 blows the feathers in their tails from side to side. 
 How the clothes flap and rustle on the line! 
 
THE WEATHER VANE. 83 
 
 They seem to be telling about the strong wind. 
 Their flapping and rustling delight the children. 
 Yonder little boy was about to bathe in the 
 stream, but the wind is too strong ; so he binds 
 his bath towel to a tall staff, and high in the air 
 it waves and chatters of the wind. Close beside 
 the boy sits a little girl who is watching with 
 delight the waving handkerchief in her out- 
 stretched hand. A third child is flying a kite. 
 He gives it more freedom than his brother gives 
 the towel, or than the sister gives her handker- 
 chief ; therefore it rises higher in the air and 
 gives its owner more pleasure. 
 
 Clap ! clap ! clap ! The wind is driving the 
 windmill round and round so fast that its sails 
 strike. Clap ! clap ! clap ! Hearing the sound, out 
 runs a little boy with his paper windmill. It 
 turns faster and faster as he increases his speed. 
 Whatever a child sees he loves to imitate. There- 
 fore be careful, you, his elders, what you do in 
 his sight. 
 
 " Do you see the mother yonder ? She can 
 scarcely shield her little daughter from the power 
 of the storm. Do you see the man near her ? He 
 finds it hard work to keep his balance and not 
 stagger in the raging wind." 
 
 " Mother, this is a very fierce wind ; it makes 
 everything bend and shake. See how sister's 
 hair is flying about, and how the clothes dance 
 on the line ! Where does the wind come from, 
 mother, this wind that moves so many things ? " 
 
 " My child, were I to try to explain to you 
 whence comes the wind, you would not under- 
 
84 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 stand me. I miglit as well talk to you in a for- 
 eign tongue as to tell you that ' the pressure of 
 air, or its altered density, or a change in its tem- 
 perature, causes wind.' You would not under- 
 stand a single word of this explanation. But one 
 thing you can understand even now : A single 
 mighty power like the wind can do many things 
 great and small. You see the things it does, 
 though you cannot see the wind itself. There 
 are many things, my child, which we can be sure 
 of though we cannot see them. There are also 
 many things which we can see but which I can- 
 not explain to you with words. Your little hand 
 moves, but you cannot see the power that moves 
 it. Believe in and cherish the power you do not 
 see. Hereafter, though you will never see it, 
 you will understand better whence it comes." 
 
IV. 
 ALL GONBl 
 
 A GAME TO EXERCISE THE WRIST JOINTS. 
 
 Baby has eaten all his food, 
 And mother says, " All gone I " , 
 
 The while his questioning eyes are fixed 
 The empty bowl upon. 
 
 Oh, have you thought out all it means, 
 
 When baby comes to know 
 Just this — " My bowl is empty now ; 
 
 'Twas full a while ago " ? 
 
 He's proved his title to a soul I 
 
 The creatures of the wood 
 Know not of now or then, but live 
 
 Cramped in the instant's mood. 
 
 Only to soul-life is it given 
 
 To own the hour that's fled. 
 Blest token, that we most shall live 
 
 When men shall call us dead I 
 
 Every one knows the waving movement of 
 the hand (the oscillation from an upright to a 
 horizontal position) which tells in gesture that 
 some person has gone away, or that of some cov- 
 eted object nothing is left. Like the Weather 
 Vane, this game exercises the wrist joint, but 
 exercises it in a different manner. The idea em- 
 bodied in the All Gone is also a reversal of the 
 idea embodied in the Weather Vane. In the 
 
 85 
 
sfi 
 
ALL GONE! 87 
 
 Weather Vane attention is directed to a present 
 fulness ; in tlie All Gone it is directed to a pres- 
 ent lack. The former points to permanence ; the 
 latter to cessation, The one concentrates the 
 child's interest upon the present; the other at- 
 tracts his attention to the past, pointing him 
 again and again to something that has been in 
 contrast with something that is. The supper is 
 all gone ; the plate is empty ; the candle is burnt 
 out. 
 
 The dog has been with father to the field; 
 greedily he devours his food ; he seems to be still 
 hungry, but his supper is — all gone. The boy is 
 thirsty. " Please, sister," he says, " give me some 
 water." "It is all gone," she replies, showing 
 him a glass which she holds upside down that 
 he may see for himself it is empty. This un- 
 expected and unwelcome answer distracts his 
 attention from the slice of buttered bread lying 
 beside him. Sly puss seizes the opportunity, 
 creeps softly near him, and steals his bread. 
 When the boy turns to get it he will find it — all 
 gone. 
 
 Look at the little girl standing on the bench. 
 I am sorry for her. She meant to give her canary 
 something to eat, but she carelessly left the door 
 of its cage open while she turned to look at the 
 empty glass in her sister's hand. "Where is 
 your canary, my child ? " "0 dear ! dear ! it 
 is gone ! it has flown away ! " 
 
 The little girl's brother tries to comfort her. 
 "Come with me, sister," he says; "come to the 
 field, for I know a tree where there is a nest with 
 
88 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 many little birds in it. I will get it for yoii^ and 
 you shall have many birds instead of one. Only 
 come ! come ! " 
 
 The children have all gone to the old tree. 
 The older boy has climbed it to get the nest. 
 The other children watch him so intently that 
 not one of them notices the hungry dog, who has 
 followed them to the field and now stands quiet- 
 ly eating the bread the younger boy holds in his 
 hand. When the little fellow turns round he 
 too will find his bread — all gone. The elder 
 brother has reached the nest. But what does he 
 see ? The nest is empty ; the birds have all flown 
 away. One little bird, however, fliitters to the 
 ground. " I shall have you, at any rate," says 
 the younger boy, throwing his hat over it. " How 
 glad I shall be to give you to my sister ! Wait 
 here, little bird, in the dark, under my hat, "till I 
 pick the beautiful raspberries growing on this 
 bush. How good they will taste ! " But a frolic- 
 some breeze blows over the hat, away flies the 
 bird, and the boy, coming back from the rasp- 
 berry bush, cries out: "My bird is gone! my 
 bird is gone ! '' 
 
 "Mother, I don't like this picture. I don't 
 want to look at it again. Nothing in it stays, 
 and no one keeps what he has." 
 
 "My child, if we want to keep things we must 
 be watchful and careful, and we must not let our- 
 selves be tempted by everything we see. In order 
 to have things when we need them, we must plan 
 for them beforehand. The boy forgot his bread 
 in thinking of his drink ; the little girl lost her 
 
ALL GONE! 89 
 
 bird through carelessness. The boy was doing 
 wrong who tried to steal the birds from their 
 nest. I am glad their courage and strength 
 saved them from being caught and put into a 
 cage. The other boy lost his bread by forgetting 
 it while he watched his brother ; and because he 
 could not resist the temptation of going for the 
 raspberries, he missed the pleasure of giving a 
 bird to his sister." 
 
 " Mother, let me look again at the little bird 
 that is getting away from under the dark hat." 
 
V. 
 TASTE SONa 
 
 As each new lite is given to the world, 
 
 The senses — like a door that swings two ways — 
 
 Stand ever 'twixt its inner, waiting self 
 
 And that environment with which its lot 
 
 Awhile is cast. 
 
 A door that sv/ings two ways : 
 Inward at tirst it turns, while Nature speaks, 
 To greet lier guest and bid him to her feast. 
 And tell him of all things in licr domain. 
 The good or ill of each, and how to use ; 
 Then outward, to set free an answering thought. 
 And so, swift messages Hy back and forth 
 Without surcease — until, behold ! she, who 
 Like gracious host received a timid guest, 
 Owns in that guest at length her rightful lord, 
 And gladly serves him, asking no reward ! 
 
 This parable, dear mother, is for you. 
 
 Whom God hay made his steward for your child. 
 
 All Nature is a unit in herself. 
 
 Yet but a part of a far greater whole. 
 
 Little by little you may teach your child 
 
 To know her ways, and live in harmony 
 
 With her; and then, in turn, help him through her 
 
 To iind those verities \A'ithin himself, 
 
 Of which all outward things are but the type. 
 
 Si-i when he passes from your sheltering care 
 
 To walk the ways of men, his soul shall be 
 
 Knit to all things that are, and still most free ! 
 
 And of him shall be writ at last this word, 
 
 " At peace with Nature, with himself, and G-od." 
 
 Like the Falling game, and for the same rea- 
 son, this song is without a picture. Fortunately, 
 
 90 
 
TASTE SONG. 91 
 
 however, illustration is even less necessary in 
 this case than in the other. 
 
 Who does not know how you, dear mother, 
 turn everything you do with your baby into 
 play ? Who does not rejoice that you are able to 
 clothe the most important truths of life in the 
 garment of play ? 
 
 " Bite the pear ! " " Oh, how sweet it tastes ! " 
 " Come, baby, taste this pretty currant ! " " It 
 puckers your little mouth. Is it sweet ? Is it 
 sour ? "' 
 
 By such pretty devices you try to nurture and 
 develop your child's sense of taste, By similar 
 playful tricks you cultivate the other senses. 
 
 What is more important than a wise culture 
 of the senses ? And what sense needs such cul- 
 ture more than the sense of taste, particularly if 
 under the word taste we include not only its di- 
 rect physical meaning, but also its metaphorical 
 significance ? Who would wish to have bad or 
 low taste ? Who is not glad when it may with 
 truth be said of him, "He has good and pure 
 taste?" 
 
 Why do we commend a man for good taste ? 
 Is it not because through taste the essence or soul 
 of objects is revealed ? The taste of a thing tells 
 whether the thing itself is beneficial or baleful, 
 life-giving or life-destroying. Indeed, all the 
 senses exist in order that through them the soul 
 of things may be made known to the soul of the 
 sensitive being. 
 
 It is a striking fact with regard to the objects 
 of sense that their inner being or essence is 
 
92 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 stamped upon and revealed through their phe- 
 nomenal being or manifestation. This is espe- 
 cially the case when the sense-object possesses 
 harmful qualities. It is well known that almost 
 all poisonous plants warn and repel man either 
 through their appearance, their odour, or their 
 taste. Think of the deadly nightshade, the oak 
 apple, the spurge laurel, and the henbane. Are 
 you not aware that each one of these plants utters 
 its own word of warning ? If the form and colour 
 of a plant are silent with regard to its nature, its 
 scent and taste will speak the more clearly and 
 declare its danger through the loathing they ex- 
 cite. Through a similar loathing, taste and smell 
 warn us against the excessive enjoyment of an 
 otherwise harmless and pleasurable sensation. 
 Thus, with excess, the fragrance of lilies produces 
 faintness, and the taste of honey becomes nause- 
 ating. He who truly cultivates his senses and is 
 then pliant to their suggestions will learn through 
 them to recognise the true nature of sense-ob- 
 jects, and will avoid on the one hand injury to 
 his health, and on the other the necessity of de- 
 stroying the sense-object in order to get enjoy- 
 ment out of it. 
 
 The nature of external objects is revealed in 
 the totality of their attributes. Through their 
 material and cohesion, through their taste and 
 odour, through their form, colour, tone, size, and 
 number, and through the endless variation of de- 
 gree and relationship in these several qualities, 
 the objects of sense speak to us and tell us what 
 they are. The words of the sage, " Speak, and I 
 
TASTE SONG. 93 
 
 will tell you who and what you are," are relevant 
 not only to human beings but to all beings. 
 Through a wise culture of the senses we learn to 
 read this language of things. Such a culture is 
 essential alike to the development of the child and 
 to the well-being of the man. It differs entirely 
 from the merely physical training of sense given 
 by savages. Its aim is to seek the inner nature 
 in the outer manifestation. This aim is realised 
 only as the activities and attributes of sense- 
 objects are systematically observed, compared, 
 and connected. 
 
 Who is a man of fine and true taste ? It is he 
 who reads aright the language of things. It is 
 he who, having discerned the inner being in its 
 manifestation, is thereby incited to prompt activ- 
 ity. It is he who repels the deleterious and in- 
 vites the wholesome influence. In a word, it is 
 he who through sensation is aroused to deed. 
 Therefore, dear mother, let it be your aim so to 
 train the senses that you shall at the same time 
 cultivate the heart and intellect ; and in order that 
 you may realise this aim, make clear to yourself 
 the correlative truths that the soul-activity of 
 your child manifests itself in his sense-activity, 
 and that through sense-activity he struggles 
 towards the soul of things. 
 
 We have seen that the right use of the data 
 of sense enables us to classify objects, to recog- 
 nise their reciprocal relationship, and their influ- 
 ence upon each other and upon man. I should 
 add that it also enables us to determine the stage 
 of development attained by any given object, or, 
 
94 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 in other words, to recognise whether such object 
 is ripe or unripe. In its metaphorical applica- 
 tion this discrimination is one of paramount im- 
 portance. How many of the evils which pervert 
 and destroy individuals, families, trades, and so- 
 cieties have their ground in jjremature or unripe 
 activity, or arise from expecting the fruition of 
 deeds before they have had time to put forth 
 leaves and blossoms. 
 
 It is dangerous to force a premature activity. 
 It is dangerous to interfere in any way with a 
 ripening process. It is dangerous to seize objects 
 until they are ripe and ready for seizure. It is 
 most dangerous to set unripe things to work upon 
 other unripe things. Therefore, mother, if you 
 would assure the well-being of your children and 
 your children's children, begin early to stir the 
 souls of your darlings with premonitions of these 
 truths. Begin to stir such premonitions while 
 your children are still babies and eager to bite 
 and taste everything around them. As they ma- 
 ture, teach them to recognise the definite stages 
 of development from unripeness to ripeness. 
 Show them that the use of unripe things is con- 
 trary to Nature. Lead them to understand that 
 the use of what is unripe is dangerous alike to 
 physical, intellectual, and moral life — is destruc- 
 tive both to the individual and to society. If you 
 can teach your children this truth and make 
 them obedient to its warning, you will be one of 
 the greatest benefactors of the human race. 
 
VI. 
 FLOWER SONG. 
 
 The Life Supreme, that lives in all, 
 
 Gives everything its own ; 
 A soul remains itself despite 
 Life's ceaseless shift — Death's sure, cold might 
 
 Itself— though changed or grown. 
 
 And something to a soul akin 
 
 Looks out from every flower ; 
 A lily is a lily still. 
 On mountain bleak, by meadow rill, 
 
 In sunshine or in shower. 
 
 Ten thousand roses June may boast, 
 
 All differing each from each ; 
 And still the rose-soul in each one 
 Glows fervent, as if there alone 
 
 Its silence had found speech. 
 
 The importance of cultivating the senses has 
 been suggested in my commentary on the Taste 
 Song. In the same commentary I have pointed 
 out the peculiar significance of the sense of taste 
 as the organ through which the inmost nature of 
 external objects is suggested to the percipient 
 subject. 
 
 Closely allied to the sense of taste is the sense 
 of smell. Indeed, these senses are like twin sis- 
 ters in their intimate union and their reciprocal 
 influence. By complementing each other they 
 enable us to recognise external objects as bene- 
 
 95 
 
96 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 ficial or detrimental ; and this not only in rela- 
 tion to i^hysical life, but to the higher life of the 
 spirit. Very difficult would it be to say where 
 the purely physical influence of sensible objects 
 ends and where their spiritual influence begins. 
 In sensation the physical and psychical, the 
 merely vital and the intellectual, the instinctive 
 and the moral, melt into each other. Hence the 
 importance of sense culture. Hence particularly 
 the importance of cultivating, ennobling, refin- 
 ing the senses of taste and smell. 
 
 Rightly regarded, taste and smell are seen to 
 be not two distinct senses but two aspects of one 
 sense. Moreover, they not only complement each 
 other, but supply the deficiencies of the other 
 senses. Thus in many cases where the data of 
 sight and taste leave us in uncertainty with re- 
 gard to the nature of objects, the sense of smell 
 makes it clear to us. I have already pointed out 
 the fact that things which are injurious to health 
 give warning of their danger to the sense of sight 
 by their gloomy and repellent appearance ; to the 
 senses of taste and smell by producing nausea 
 and aversion. It may be added that they also 
 often warn the sense of hearing by emitting hol- 
 low or discordant tones. As an illustration of 
 this I may mention the ring of difi'erent metals. 
 Hence we say, metaphorically "Such or such a 
 person has the true ring."' Finally, as has been 
 already suggested, things in themselves good and 
 healthful, but which become injurious when par- 
 taken of in excess, warn us by faintness and nau- 
 sea to be temperate in our enjoyment of them. 
 
FLOWER SONG. 97 
 
 Thus the scent of lilacs becomes oppressive in a 
 small room. In general, excess engenders dis- 
 gust, and disgust becomes loathing. Rightly in- 
 terpreting and obeying these warnings of sense, 
 we shall avoid what is physically or morally 
 injurious. 
 
 All these truths, dear mother, you may clothe 
 in a garment of play. You Txia,j then lift them 
 nearer to the light of consciousness by your talks 
 with your child about his play. Do not forget 
 the fact that the data of smell, like those of taste, 
 are important not only in their literal but in their 
 metaphorical sense. It is significant that in the 
 transfer of the phenomena of smell from the 
 physical to the moral realm there is usually im- 
 puted to them an evil meaning. Thus we speak 
 of the odour of hypocrisy ; or we say " a man's 
 name is in evil odour." 
 
 " Mother, my head aches." 
 
 "What have you been doing to make it 
 ache ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I have only gathered a great 
 many beautiful flowers and put them in water." 
 
 " That is just what is the matter. You have 
 brought a great many strongly scented flowers, 
 and particularly a great manj^ lilies, into a very 
 small room. Their fragrance makes the air op- 
 pressive, and this it is which has given you a 
 headache. One may do too much even of a good 
 thing. Besides, that which is good in itself 
 needs plenty of room for its activity in order 
 that its influence may be good. If this were 
 not so, men — yes, and little children too — would 
 
98 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 selfishly try to gather and keep for themselves 
 the things that are good and beautiful, and would 
 not remember that the good and the beautiful 
 are for all." 
 
 " mother, the plants and flowers love us, 
 just as you do ! '" * 
 
 * See Appendix, note vi. 
 
VII. 
 TICK-TACK. 
 
 A GAME TO EXERCISE AND DEVELOP THE AKJIS. 
 
 Oh, teach your child that those who move 
 
 By Order's kindly law, 
 Find all their lives to music set ; 
 While those who this same law forget 
 
 Find only fret and jar. 
 
 The clock is not a master hard, 
 
 Ruling with iron hand ; 
 It is a happy household sprite, 
 Helping all things to move aright, 
 
 With gentle guiding wand. 
 
 Its quiet tick still seems to say, 
 
 " Though time pass velvet shod, 
 It guides the universal round 
 Of worlds and souls — for it is found 
 
 Deep in the thought of God ! " 
 
 This game is easy to play. Your child may 
 sit in your lap or stand upon a table. All that 
 is necessary is that his arms should be free so that 
 you may swing them to and fro like a pendulum. 
 It goes without saying that the movement should 
 be made alternately with the right and left arm. 
 It may, however, not be superfluous to suggest 
 that you may further the harmonious physical 
 development of your child by also swinging his 
 legs. Such varied exercises will contribute to his 
 
zia, zaa: 
 
TICK-TACK. 101 
 
 healthy growth as well as to his beauty, litheness, 
 and grace. 
 
 " Shall we now talk a little together about the 
 picture ? You know all I have to say better than 
 I know it myself. Indeed, I learned it from you 
 — learned it by watching your thoughtful, moth- 
 erly play." 
 
 Your instinct has taught you truly that every- 
 thing in the nature of a timepiece has an irresist- 
 ible charm for children. Why is this ? The 
 movement of the pendulum has given us the clew 
 to many a truth of mathematics and mechanics. 
 Can it be that a presentiment of its suggestive- 
 ness in these directions explains its allurement ? 
 There is a certain remote kinship between the 
 rhythmic swing of the pendulum and the form 
 of our soul-activity. Is this the secret of its 
 charm ? Or, setting aside both these suggestions, 
 shall we say that the movement, the turning 
 wheels, the apparent life in the clock are the 
 sources of its allurement, and that this allure- 
 ment is heightened by a sense of concealment 
 and mystery ? 
 
 That each of these explanations throws some 
 light upon the source of the child's interest in 
 the clock I freely admit. That any one of them 
 or all of them fully account for his interest I 
 must deny ; for it is not alone the clock which 
 fascinates him : his imagination is stirred by 
 any kind of timepiece. Thus, children love to 
 watch the slowly running sand in an hour- 
 glass. They also love to make and watch sun- 
 dials, though in these there is no movement 
 
102 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 save the almost imperceptible progress of the 
 shadow. 
 
 My own conviction is that the delight of chil- 
 dren in watching, imitating, and making time- 
 pieces springs from a dim presentiment of the 
 importance of time itself. This conviction of 
 mine hurts neither the child nor any one else. 
 In its practical outcome it is helpful to the child 
 and to every one. Who does not know how much 
 depends upon the right use of time ? Who does 
 not know the importance of order and punctu- 
 ality in all the relationships of life ? To me it 
 seems that there is no single thing which, from 
 the day of his birth, is more important for man 
 than the doing of things at the right time. In 
 the first moments after birth, indeed, his life itself 
 may be said to depend on the right use of time. 
 
 It is therefore of the highest importance to 
 make the allurement of the clock the point of 
 departure for so educating the child that he shall 
 carefully consider, truly apprehend, and worthily 
 employ time. Use my little arm game in this 
 spirit. Lead your dear child through playing it 
 to begin thinking about time, and to begin to 
 feel that there is a right time for whatever he 
 has to do. If you train him in this way he will 
 understand j'ou when, later, you deny him a 
 pleasure because it is time for doing something 
 else. 
 
 " Mother, show me this pretty picture." 
 
 "My child, see what your kitten is doing. 
 She is cleaning and smoothing her soft fur so 
 that it will be a pleasure to look at her. She 
 
TICK-TACK. 103 
 
 knows it will soon be time for some welcome visit- 
 ors to arrive. Come, darling, come, and be made 
 neat and clean, like your kitty, for two dear 
 friends will soon be here to see you. Do you 
 know who they are ? They are your father's 
 dear eyes. They must find you fresh and clean." 
 
 The child is always having visitors. The 
 bright rays of the sun come to see him ; so do the 
 twinkling stars, the shining moon, the white 
 doves, the fair, sweet flowers. They love to see 
 and play with a clean, sweet child. Teach your 
 child, mother, to love these pure friends, and to 
 make ready for them by being clean and pure 
 himself. 
 
 " Do you see in the picture five little children 
 who are playing ' clock ' ? * These five children 
 are surely five little fingers who want to learn to 
 tell the time, so that they can do everything at 
 just the right moment. Come here, you dear little 
 fingers on my child's hand, and learn something 
 from the five children in the picture."' 
 
 * It is characteristic of childish thought to link activity 
 with its object. Hence children often form active verbs from 
 nouns. For example, a little child said, " I will road it," instead 
 of, " I will go play in the road." This tendency should not be 
 too abruptly corrected. It furnishes a key to many peculiarities 
 of dialect. Thus, in one part of Switzerland people say, " What 
 clock's it ? " instead of " What o'clock is it ? " 
 
104 
 
VIII. 
 MOWING GRASS. 
 
 AN ARM GAME. 
 
 Take from out the sweetest song 
 Just one note — the sweetest one ; 
 
 You may sound it full and strong, 
 But its music is all gone ! 
 
 And the children learn to see, 
 
 In a little game like this, 
 That in true activity 
 
 Nothing unrelated is. 
 
 Your child's hands are both at rest. The 
 forearms are extended in a horizontal position. 
 The palms of the hands are downward and the 
 fingers are bent. They grasp your hands, which 
 are likewise extended, but have the palms upper- 
 most. Yon give your child's arms a movement 
 which somewhat resembles that made in mowing 
 grass. This movement exercises the elbow joint, 
 and increases the child's power to stand in an up- 
 right position. 
 
 Nothing is more dangerous to the health of 
 the intellect, nothing is more prejudicial to the 
 culture of the heart, than the habit of looking at 
 particular objects and events in detachment from 
 the great whole of life. I admit that it is often 
 necessary to ignore the connection between dif- 
 ferent objects and acts. When your child, for 
 example, tells you he is hungry, you must often 
 9 105 
 
106 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 simply send him to the cool-f for a roll or to the 
 taker for a bun. You should, however, correct 
 the tendency to which this manner of satisfying 
 his wants gives rise by making perceptible to 
 him as often as possible the series of conditions 
 which must be fulfilled before it is possible to say 
 to him, " Run to this or that person and get such 
 or such things." You may achieve this result by 
 making a judicious choice of pictures representing 
 the activities of farm, garden, and trade, by show- 
 ing them in their natural and logical order, and 
 by connecting with them short and graphic sto- 
 ries of the life they portray. Doubtless this idea 
 has already occurred to you, and you have in 
 some measure worked it out. With your per- 
 mission we will hereafter look through a selection 
 of pictures and mature the scheme. 
 
 Through the little play of Mowing Grass, 
 which I now offer to you, together with the illus- 
 tration which accompanies it, you may easily 
 lead your child to feel that for his bread and milk 
 he owes thanks not only to his mother, the milk- 
 maid, the cow, the mower, and the baker, but also 
 and most of all to the heavenly Father, who 
 through the instrumentalities of dew and rain, 
 sunshine and darkness, winter and summer, causes 
 the earth to bring forth grass and herb to nour- 
 ish the cattle whose milk and whose flesh nour- 
 ish man. He will understand you the more 
 readily if, catching a hint from the little boy in 
 the picture, you encourage him to share the life 
 of his elders by imitating their activities. As 
 he grows older you should let him plant his own 
 
MOWING GRASS. IQT 
 
 garden, gather his own harvest of fruit and flow- 
 ers, learn through his own small experience some- 
 thing of the influence of sun, dew, and rain, and 
 gain thereby a remote presentiment of the recip- 
 rocal energies of nature and a reverent feeling 
 for the divine life and law expressed in nature. 
 
 The two children in the picture who sit oppo- 
 site to each other weaving dandelion chains ex- 
 pect to join these chains in one connected whole. 
 They know that if they work quietly and steadi- 
 ly, joining link to link, the chains must at last 
 meet. So is it with the child who by linking even 
 a few activities begins to weave the chain of life. 
 The very nature of his activity implies a goal, 
 and he feels that some day, to his joy, the chain 
 shall be rounded into a circle. 
 
 But what says the tree beside which yonder 
 little lad is sitting ? Its form and general ap- 
 pearance warn us, in language not to be misun- 
 derstood, against grafting what is base or false 
 upon an originally noble nature. If we neglect 
 this warning we must expect stunted growth, 
 gnarled branches, bitter fruit. 
 
 And what says the tree against which leans 
 the tiny maiden ? Its trunk is like a broken 
 shaft. In some way its life impulse has been de- 
 stroyed. Beware, parents, of killing through 
 ignorance or thoughtlessness the impulses of 
 growth and development in your children. Other- 
 wise you will have to grieve over lives which will 
 never crown themselves with completeness, but, 
 like this blighted tree, will yield wood and foli- 
 age but neither blossoms nor fruit. 
 
n~^_^:;t 
 
IX. 
 BECKONING THE CHICKENS. 
 
 Because he lives himself, the child 
 
 Oft thinks that all things live, 
 And pours his little heart upon 
 
 That which no love can give. 
 
 But when his life, outreaching, meets 
 
 With answering life around. 
 His wistful eyes are lit with joy 
 
 That comrades he has found. 
 
 The picture illustrating this play shows 
 clearly the mother's beckoning hand and the 
 dear little bent fingers of the baby, who tries 
 to imitate what she is doing. That this move- 
 ment exercises and strengthens the fingers is 
 self-evident. 
 
 This mother has doubtless heard what we 
 said to each other as we looked at the picture of 
 Mowing Grass. See the child in her arms. No- 
 tice his exuberant health and vigour. Notice 
 how he keeps his eye fixed upon the turkeys, 
 hens, and chickens, and how delightedly he lis- 
 tens to their gobbling, clucking, and peeping. 
 Surely his mother has taken him out of doors in 
 order that he may see in the looking-glass of na- 
 ture the fresh, eager life that throbs in his own 
 109 
 
no MOTHEE PLAY. 
 
 pulses, and that through seeing this life outside 
 of himself he may feel it more keenly within 
 himself. Several groups of children, some of 
 whom are her own, have followed the mother. 
 Who would not follow where such motherly nur- 
 ture leads the way ? What child, especially, could 
 resist its charm ? Watch these children. Notice 
 the health, the mirth, the thoughtfulness which 
 are shown in the expression of their faces and in 
 their movements. Look at the three little ones 
 yonder on the right where the middle child is 
 kneeling. The life of nature works upon them 
 like a magnet. It works so powerfully upon the 
 vigorous boy that he needs more sharers of his 
 joy than the two little girls beside him; so he 
 turns to call the three children who are looking 
 so intently through the great branches of the 
 tree at the picture they frame. But these chil- 
 dren do not respond to his call ; they are fasci- 
 nated by the beautiful view that lies before 
 them. And just see the child on the left! 
 Crouched on the ground, she watches intently 
 the chicken family, that none of its doings may 
 escape her. The elder girl, on the contrary, 
 stands erect, and beckons to the hen and rooster ; 
 she wants them to come to their chickens. In 
 her stir the motherly impulses of watchfulness 
 and care. 
 
 Each child has a vision of his own inmost life 
 in the mirror of nature. This inmost life gains 
 fresh strength through beholding its reflection. 
 So, too, the child sees his life in the mirror of his 
 mother's eye. 
 
BECKONING THE CHICKENS. HI 
 
 Surely all these children will grow up in 
 strength and beauty like the luxuriant climbing 
 vine in our picture, and in their mature years 
 they will stand steadfast like the tree under 
 whose shade they are now rejoicing in the life of 
 nature ! 
 
X. 
 
 BECKONING THE PIGEONS. 
 
 The mother acts out for her child 
 His thoughts unformed and dim. 
 
 He love.s the pigeons ; he'll be glad 
 To think that they love him. 
 
 What the child has seen out of doors the 
 mother repeats for him in her indoor play. Thus 
 the game of Beckoning the Pigeons is an indoor 
 repetition of the experiences described in my 
 commentary on the play Beckoning the Chickens. 
 
 The mother sits by a table; her baby is on 
 her lap. Her fingers patter along the table to- 
 wards him. These pattering fingers are the little 
 pigeons, chickens, or sparrows which he has seen 
 running or hopping out of doors. The sympa- 
 thetic life in the child moves him to do what he 
 sees his mother do, so he, too, tries to make his 
 little fingers patter across the table. Through 
 his play he exercises his finger joints. So much 
 for this game on its external side. 
 
 Life attracts life. The picture preceding this 
 one showed nature attracting the life of children ; 
 this picture shows how joyful and loving child 
 life attracts the life of nature, particularly the 
 life of birds. With what trust the pigeons come 
 when the child calls ! Running, fiuttering, flying, 
 
 113 
 
114 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 they hurry towards him from all sides. It would 
 almost seem as if children and pigeons had some 
 common language, and as if they understood each 
 other all the better because they do not under- 
 stand our human speech. 
 
 Mother, is there not something analogous to 
 this fact in your own experience ? Did not your 
 children respond more quickly to your words 
 when they were too young to understand the 
 meaning of words than they do now when this 
 meaning is clear to them ? Why is this ? Must 
 the animals teach us ? In their language, word 
 and fact, fact and word, word and deed, deed and 
 word, are always one and the same. 
 
XI. 
 
 THE PISH IN THE BROOK. 
 
 A CHILD regards with new delight 
 Each living thing that meets his sight ; 
 But when within the limpid stream 
 He sees the fishes dart and gleam, 
 Or when, through pure transparent space 
 The bird's swift flight he tries to trace. 
 Their freer motion fills his heart 
 With joy that seems of it a part — 
 A joy that speaks diviner birth. 
 While yet he treads the ways of earth. 
 
 The child sits upon a table in front of his 
 mother, or, it may be, upon her lap. Her left arm 
 is thrown gently around him. Keeping her two 
 hands parallel, the mother extends them and then 
 alternately stretches and bends her fingers to 
 imitate the movement of swimming. So much 
 for the way of playing this little game. 
 
 Birds and fishes, fishes and birds ; why is it 
 that in these the child finds an ever fresh delight ? 
 Is it not because they seem to move with such 
 perfect freedom, the one in the clear water, the 
 other in the pure air ? -Unimpeded activity in a 
 pure element — this is the magnet which attracts 
 the child to bird and fish. Yet the child tries to 
 catch fish and bird. Is not this a contradiction ? 
 Nay, mother, to me it seems not so. In the bird 
 
 115 
 
116 
 
THE PISH IN THE BROOK. HY 
 
 your child is trying to catch its glad flight, in 
 the fish its swimming, skimming, diving, gliding 
 movements. But no catching of bird or fish can 
 avail him. The fish lies motionless on the grass ; 
 holding the bird he loses its flight. Within must 
 freedom be won, within must purity be con- 
 quered. The soul must create the pure element 
 in which it can move freely. Mother, make your 
 child's delight in such free self-movement the 
 point of departure for stirring in him a con- 
 sciousness of this truth, and you will be helping 
 him to achieve life's perfect peace, life's holi- 
 est joy. 
 
 "Brother, catch me one of the fishes swim- 
 ming so merrily in the brook. Look at this 
 little one— now it is here, now it is there. Some- 
 times it is straight, sometimes it is bent; it is 
 so pretty whatever it does. Oh, if I could only 
 swim and glide and dip ! if I could wriggle 
 and slip, how I would tease you, brother, if you 
 tried to catch me ! Please, brother, catch me a 
 fish." 
 
 " Here is a fish for you, little sister, but hold 
 it tight or it will slip away." 
 
 "But, brother, it doesn't move any more; it 
 only lies stretched out straight. But it is alive, 
 for it gasps. I will lay it on the grass ; then it 
 will begin moving again. Oh, it does not move 
 even in the grass ; it lies quite straight and still. 
 Why won't it move ? " 
 
 " Don't you know, little sister, that fish only 
 move in the water ? Look again at the fishes 
 in the brook, how merrily they are swimming 
 
118 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 about; sometimes they are perfectly straight, 
 and then how crooked ! " 
 
 Mother, do you realise how essential it is 
 that your child should clearly seize the distinc- 
 tion between the crooked and straight, especially 
 when these words are used not in a literal but in 
 a metaphorical sense ? " He is a straightforward 
 man. He follows a straight path. He has an 
 upright character." Who does not rejoice when 
 such words may with truth be said of him ? On 
 the other hand, who is not mortified when told 
 he is walking in crooked paths, or that he is en- 
 gaged in a crooked business ? 
 
 This opposition between crooked and straight 
 seems to have been in our artist's mind when he 
 was designing the picture of the fish in the 
 brook. Straight and crooked are the little fishes ; 
 straight and crooked flows the water ; straight 
 and crooked grows the tree and around the 
 straight, slim arum the serpents are coiling. 
 Seek to direct your child's attention to the dif- 
 ference between what is straight and what is 
 crooked. Plant in his heart a love for all that is 
 straightforward in thought, word, and deed, and 
 a hatred for whatever violates this ideal ; so 
 shall the mark of rectitude be upon his life and 
 deeds, and, using his developed strength in its 
 right element, he will be active, joyful, and free, 
 like the fish in the clear brook and the bird in 
 the pure air. 
 
XII. 
 
 THE TARGET. 
 
 However meaningless this game may seem, 
 
 There is within it, more than one would dream. 
 
 As hidden in the uncut gem ther(j lies, 
 
 A rainbow waiting to delight our eyes ; 
 
 In it, things differing and tar apart 
 
 Are brought together — wakening the thought 
 
 Of complex unity — and others still. 
 
 If, to see truth in play, we have the will ; 
 
 But while we search, a child sees all with ease : 
 
 He does not reason, but can quickly seize 
 
 Impressions which, we know not how, are wrought 
 
 Into the forming fibre of his thought ; 
 
 And while with pretty earnestness lie eyes 
 
 Upon his rosy palm the lines crosswise. 
 
 Ideas are waking iu his little brain 
 
 Of number, form, proportion, rightful gain ; 
 
 And larger knowledge, later on, will come 
 
 Into a mind where it will be at home. 
 
 Hell learn proportion's rhythmic power to know — 
 
 A power that seems with growing thought to grow. 
 
 Little by little, he will come to see 
 
 That through activity comes unity. 
 
 And that each one, who in his place and age 
 
 Does wholesome work, should have his proper wage. 
 
 Dimly at first, but clearly by and by. 
 
 He'll see how everything — earth, air, and sky. 
 
 Plants, beasts, and men — are knit in one great whole. 
 
 Interdependent, while the ages roll. 
 
 This lesson, that the world spells out so slow. 
 
 The child may come insensibly to know ; 
 
 And with this lesson taught each opening life. 
 
 Will come at last the end of man's long strife. 
 
 With this play we enter upon a new and dis- 
 tinct stage of development. As a traditional 
 119 
 

 9Iu(5 Immer miig' erfd)drteit, 
 'SReH aU man mogc meinen. 
 Der, reenn er nun gef^Uffen, 
 93om Slug' mtt Suft crgriffen. 
 Sn ©in'gung fld) luoM fintet; 
 3u (Sinem fldi ucrlnnbet ; 
 £a§t fciefed ©utel er!unben 
 Sffiaftrfeeil, Bom ©piel umwunben ; 
 ©0 TOunber&ar Uli n^net, 
 Den SBeg jum ®tnfet)'n taftnel. — 
 3u einem ©atijen fiifire, 
 Sin tict)t^9cr Coftn gcbii()rc; 
 Die ©a(i)en fid) bebtngcn, 
 2Iu« 51tlem gern witl bringen : 
 Unb im ©efiibl, erfaffen ; 
 3m Seben and) nic()t laffen." 
 
THE TARGET. 121 
 
 game it is found in some form in every district 
 of Germany. It is common to all German dia- 
 lects, whether High or Low. It would seem, there- 
 fore, that it must meet some essential need of the 
 child, and correspond with some plane of his de- 
 veloping life. In my judgment, it has also im- 
 portant bearings upon his whole career, for it 
 opens a path which leads gradually towards the 
 life of knowledge and the life of trade. 
 
 The manner of playing this game, mother, is 
 doubtless familiar to you. Your child stands or 
 sits in front of you. He holds out one of his 
 hands towards you, with the palm uppermost. 
 With the forefinger of his other hand, or with 
 your own forefinger, you draw upon his extended 
 palm two lines intersecting each other at right 
 angles. At the point of intersection you pretend 
 to bore a hole, and finally you lay your free hand 
 upon your child's palm. While going through 
 these varied movements you sing the song of the 
 Target. 
 
 As I have already said, this little play is com- 
 mon to all the districts and dialects of Germany. 
 What is the reason of its diffusion and popular- 
 ity ? I frankly confess that I see in it the earli- 
 est traces of an endeavour to attract the child's 
 attention to form and position and to the phe- 
 nomena necessarily arising from and connected 
 with these qualities. The one line is the line of 
 length, the other is the line of breadth. Through 
 combination the one is accentuated as vertical, 
 the other as horizontal. They cut each other 
 through their centres, thus forming four equal 
 
 10 
 
122 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 and therefore right angles. Both, lines with their 
 four ends lie on one plane, as is doubly proved by 
 the position of the hands. 
 
 But what do I hear you saying ? You do not 
 understand one word of all this, and, how then, can 
 your child understand it ? You are quite right. 
 Your child could not understand a single word of 
 what I have said. Some vague idea of the facts 
 which the words express, however, he must have, 
 or he would not be so much interested in the 
 play. Hence, thoughtful mother, you may assure 
 yourself that some recognition of facts precedes 
 the understanding of words. If, therefore, you 
 wish your instruction to be natural and impres- 
 sive, begin by giving concrete experiences. Do 
 you ask why this method is impressive and why 
 its results are abiding ? I answer : That which 
 we have ourselves experienced makes a deep im- 
 pression ; for in experience three things are al- 
 ways present : the particular fact, its universal 
 implication, and the relationship of both to the 
 person who has the experience. 
 
 The universal truths implicit in this play of 
 the Target relate to form, size, and number, or, in 
 other words, to the most characteristic qualities 
 of all material objects. Since it directs the child's 
 attention to these characteristic, qualities, this 
 little game may be said to point towards the 
 intellectual mastery of all objects in time and 
 space. 
 
 Do you see in the picture three bowmen aim- 
 ing their separate arrows at the same mark ? Do 
 you see the three little boys going off with the 
 
THE TARGET. 123 
 
 target, each feeling in his heart the same pleas- 
 ure ? What is our artist trying to hint to us ? 
 Form, size, and number open three paths to a 
 single goal. That goal is comprehension of and 
 power over the physical world. 
 
134 
 
XIII. 
 PAT-A-CAKE. 
 
 SuKELY there is nothing hid 
 
 In this little game, 
 That is not quite plainly told 
 
 By its name 1 
 
 Search a moment — you will iind 
 
 Something deeper taught; 
 In the world's work each must heJp^ 
 
 As he ought. 
 
 Like the Target, Pat-a-cake is a familiar nurs- 
 ery game. It is played not only in Germany 
 but in England. It is said to be the only repre- 
 sentative in the latter country of the hand and 
 finger games of which Germany possesses so rich 
 a collection. Its wide diffusion points to the fact 
 that simple mother-wit never fails to link the 
 initial activities of the child with the everyday 
 life about him. 
 
 What the natural mother does incidentally, 
 intermittently, and disconnectedly, we must learn 
 to do with conscious intent and in logical se- 
 quence. We must recognise the reason implicit 
 in instinct, learn its methods, and, without losing 
 its naivete develop into a systematic procedure 
 its incidental suggestions. The human spirit is a 
 living unity, and should never be content with a 
 
 125 
 
126 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 fragmentary expression of its wholeness. Hence 
 " the sweet reasonableness " manifested in the 
 simple intercourse between mother and child 
 must not be suffered to remain forever a blind 
 impulse. It must unfold, on the one side, into 
 conscious and spiritual motherhood, and, on the 
 other, into that ideal childhood whose love and 
 yearning and prescient hope testify that it holds 
 the " all " in its heart. For the immanence of the 
 whole in feeling is the necessary presupposition 
 of the penetration of the whole by thought. 
 
 On its external side Pat-a-cake is so well 
 known that only a few hints need be given with 
 regard to the manner of playing it and to its 
 physical effects. The child stands or sits in front 
 of her who so tenderly cherishes his life. Hold- 
 ing his hands in an upright position, with the 
 palms toiiching each other, the mother claps 
 them energetically. The physical points of the 
 game are the attitude of the whole body, the po- 
 sition of the arms, and the exercise of the elbow- 
 joint. 
 
 I have already said that this game had its ori- 
 gin in an effort to make the impulsive move- 
 ments of the infant the means of introducing 
 him to a knowledge of the activities about him, 
 and to their reciprocal relationships. The bread, 
 or, better still, the little cake which the child 
 likes so miich, he receives from his mother; the 
 mother, in turn, receives it from the baker. So 
 far so good. We have found two links in the 
 great chain of life and service. Let us beware, 
 however, of making the child feel that these links 
 
PAT-A-CAKE. 127 
 
 complete the chain. The baker can bake no cake 
 if the miller grinds no meal ; the miller can grind 
 no meal if the farmer brings him no grain ; the 
 farmer can bring no grain if his field yields no 
 crop ; the field can yield no crop if the forces of 
 Nature fail to work together to produce it ; the 
 forces of Nature could not conspire together were 
 it not for the all-wise and beneficent Power who 
 incites and guides them to their predetermined 
 ends. 
 
 Doubtless the little children in our picture, 
 who are playing "Bake bread, eat bread," have 
 been taught to feel this inner unity, connected- 
 ness, and harmony of life. Do not disturb their 
 ingenuous play. Rather avoid noticing it, unless 
 your own heart responds to the devout feeling 
 which inspires it. These children are not pro- 
 faning what is holy ; they are nurturing the im- 
 pulse out of which shall spring the consecration 
 of secular life. 
 
 How shall your child, either now or hereafter, 
 cultivate his sense for what is holy, if you nip 
 that budding germ of devotion which seeks child- 
 like expression in serious play ? Such play, how- 
 ever, must be spontaneous, artless, and free from 
 all attempts at show. Beware, therefore, of any 
 look or word that may destroy the simplicity of 
 an action which originally springs unsummoned 
 from that holiest of holies, the young child's 
 heart. 
 
128 
 
XIV. 
 
 THE NEST. 
 
 In the pretty picture 
 
 Of the nested birds 
 Baby reads Ms " love-song " 
 
 Written without words — 
 Hears the nestlings calling, 
 
 And his heart calls, too ; 
 As they need their mother, 
 
 So his heart needs you. 
 
 The picture illustrating this game shows 
 clearly the position of the hands. I need only 
 explain that at the beginning of the game the 
 thumbs are turned downward and inward, to 
 make the eggs in the nest. At the words " The 
 eggs are hatched," the tips of the thumbs rise, to 
 represent the throats and heads of two little birds. 
 At the words " Mother dear, peep ! " the thumbs 
 move, to show that the little birds are seeking 
 their mother. 
 
 It goes without saying that in the first in- 
 stance this game is played by the mother or 
 nurse, the baby merely looking on. As he de- 
 velops, however, the instinct of imitation will 
 prompt him to make the nest, eggs, and birds 
 himself. 
 
 129 
 
130 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 The mother who thoughtfully observes her 
 child's life and obediently responds to its mani- 
 festations, knows that development is a gradual 
 process, and that no great truth can be taught 
 in a single lesson. The feeling that all life is 
 one life slumbers in the child's soul. Only very 
 gradually, however, can this slumbering feeling 
 be transfigured into a vciking consciousness. 
 Slowly, through a sympathetic study of Nature 
 and of human life, through a growing sense of 
 the soul and meaning of all natural facts and of 
 all human relationships, and through recreating 
 in various forms that external world which is 
 but the objective expression of his own inmost 
 being, the individual attains to a consciousness 
 of the connectedness and unity of life (Lebens- 
 zusammenhang und Lebenseinheit) and to a 
 vision of the Eternal Fountain of Life. 
 
 Through the play of The Birds' Nest, mother, 
 you take a few short steps upon one of the paths 
 which lead towards this goal, viz., the path 
 which starting from sympathy with Nature, 
 runs through study of Nature to comprehension 
 of the forces, laws, and inner meaning of Nature. 
 You are incited to enter upon this path by your 
 feeling that a prophetic sense of the inner connect- 
 edness of Nature stirs and dreams in your child's 
 heart. You also feel that there is no single 
 object in Nature which has more power to lift 
 his dreaming presentiment into waking conscious- 
 ness than a bird's nest. 
 
 Consider the time when the bird builds her 
 nest : it is the early springtime, when all Nature 
 
THE NEST. 131 
 
 begins to unfold. The warmth of spring and 
 summer gives the nestlings an opportunity to 
 develop and grow strong, and an increasing 
 supply of food keeps even pace with their in- 
 creasing need of nourishment. By the time that 
 the chilly autumn and frosty winter have come 
 the nestlings are so strong that they can seek the 
 food they need, and either bear the cold or fly 
 away from it. 
 
 Consider, again, the places in which birds build 
 their nests. They always choose a spot where 
 they can find plenty of food. Near human dwell- 
 ings are many flies, gnats, and spiders, so, as our 
 picture shows us, sparrows and swallows build 
 between the rafters of houses. In the hedge, 
 which is so rich in insects, the hedge-sparrow and 
 the robin make their homes. The titmouse 
 builds in hollow trees where there are jslenty of 
 worms ; the stork near some spot where frogs 
 abound. 
 
 No less important tlian time and place is the 
 style of nest-building. Thus the nest of the finch, 
 built between the branches of the apple tree looks 
 so much like its bark that it is scarcely possible 
 to distinguish one from the other ; and the long- 
 tailed titmouse protects her young from danger 
 by building a nest which looks like a bundle of 
 moss. 
 
 To these and analogous facts with regard to 
 the time and place of nest-building, and to that 
 wonderful mimicry through which birds insure 
 the safety of their nestlings, the child's attention 
 should be often and sympathetically directed. 
 
132 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Nothing, however, will so tenderly stir his heart 
 as the nakedness, softness, and weakness of little 
 birds, and to his young imagination all Nature 
 will seem to share his wish to shelter and feed 
 them. 
 
 " Mother, mother, only see the nest full of 
 baby birds which these children have found! It 
 is a good thing that the children have come, for 
 the little birds were all by themselves. Their 
 father and mother had left them. I am so sorry 
 for the poor little things ! " 
 
 " You are mistaken, my darling ; their mother 
 has only gone to find some gnats and worms to 
 feed her babies. She will soon come back. And 
 see, there is the father, sitting near by on the 
 bough of the tree. He is watching his babies so 
 that nothing may harm them while their mother 
 is away. And while the mother seeks food and 
 the father keeps watch, the kind, warm sun peeps 
 into the nest and takes care of the birdies just 
 like the mother herself. Only see how comfort- 
 able they are ! 
 
 " In the branches of the tree is another nest. 
 There are little birds in it, though you cannot 
 see them. Their mother also has gone to seek 
 food for her hungry nestlings. As she flies 
 about she says to herself, ' If I can only find 
 plenty of worms for my babies, how glad I shall 
 be ! " 
 
 " Sometimes, darling, I am like this bird- 
 mother. I cannot always be close by joii ; but 
 you must not cry because yon do not see me. 
 You are my own dear little child, and wherever 
 
THE NEST. 133 
 
 I may be I am thinking of you. Besides, even 
 when I am away from you you are not alone, for 
 you have the dear heavenly Father's sunlight. 
 But remember, the sunbeams do not like a crying 
 child ! " 
 
134 
 
XV. 
 
 THE FLOWER BASKET. 
 
 Welcome each small offering 
 That a young child's love may bring, 
 Though perchanee he stint himself 
 Of some childish joy or pelf; 
 For love grows with being spent, 
 But starves in its own plenty pent. 
 
 The position of the hand is clearly shown in 
 the drawing. The little finger of the right hand 
 is laid upon the index finger of the left, the finger 
 tips of the right hand are placed in the angle be- 
 tween the thumb and index finger of the left ; in 
 this position the palms and fingers form a hemi- 
 spherical hollow. Manifestly the relative posi- 
 tions of the hands may be reversed. In both 
 cases, however, the tips of the thumbs are bent 
 outward. The physical object of the game is to 
 exercise the hand in bending, and thus increase 
 its flexibility. Its spiritual aim is to strengthen 
 the invisible cord by which the child is tethered 
 to his fellows, and it pursues this aim in the 
 simplest and most natural manner by making 
 family relationships and affections its point of 
 departure. 
 
 "Why are the children so busy gathering 
 flowers to fill this pretty basket ? Why is their 
 mother cutting the beautiful lilies ? " 
 
 135 
 
136 MOTHER- PLAY. 
 
 " Let me look at the picture, darling, and I 
 will tell you what I think. It must be their dear 
 father's birthday. Yes, that is just it. Yonder 
 in the summer-house on the hill sits the father, 
 and if I see rightly he has a pencil in his hand. 
 I am sure he is drawing a pretty picture for his 
 children. He wishes to give them a pleasure on 
 his birthday. Perhaps he is drawing the hills in 
 the early morning light, with the beautiful sun 
 rising so quietly. Perhaps it seems to him that 
 this still sunrise is something like the life of his 
 dear children, or like his own life when he was a 
 little child. His youngest daughter seems to have 
 something of the same feeling. She cannot wait 
 until the large basket is filled with flowers. She 
 has filled a little basket all by herself and runs to 
 give it to her father. 'Here, dear papa,' she 
 says, ' here are some flowers for your birthday. 
 Do you like them ? Mother and sister and 
 brother have some more flowers for you, and oh, 
 such pretty ones ! ' 
 
 " ' Why, my darling,' says her father, ' your 
 little flowers are beautiful, too. They are so 
 fresh and pure. How glad they make me ! How 
 glad everything makes me to-day ! ' " 
 
 " Mother, why is the father so glad ? " 
 
 " My child, he is glad because the sun shines 
 kindly, because the sky is so blue, because the air 
 is so mild, because the birds are singing and 
 twittering so merrily, because the field is so gay 
 with flowers and so sparkling with dew. Even 
 the old tower yonder in the wood looks as if it 
 was trying to say 'Good-morning' and 'Happy 
 
THE FLOWER BASKET. 137 
 
 birthday.' All these things help to make the 
 father glad ; but he is telling his little girl that 
 they could not make him happy if he had no 
 sweet daughter, and she had no sister and no 
 brother." 
 
 "And no dear, good mother. The father is 
 sure to say that, too." 
 
 " Yes, of course he is saying that, too ; for he 
 loves the mother, and he knows how dearly she 
 loves him, and all her little children. And what 
 else do you think he is saying ? ' Do yon know, 
 darling,' he asks, ' who I must thank for all 
 these good things ? ' The little girl thinks to her- 
 self : ' Father ought to have everything that is 
 good, because he is so good himself.' But the 
 father says : ' I must thank God who gave me life, 
 God who gives life to all, God who is the Father 
 of all. He gives me the many good things which 
 make me so happy to-day. When mother and 
 sister and brother come we will thank him to- 
 gether.' * 
 
 " This is what the father is saying to his little 
 daughter. Shall you and I thank God, too ? " 
 
 " Mother, when is my father's birthday ?" 
 
 * Here Proebel inserts some rhymes, of which Miss Lord 
 gives the following translation : 
 
 " Just as the birds all thankful sing, 
 As larks poise high on fluttering wing. 
 As swallows praise Him in their flight. 
 And flowers bloom towards the light ; 
 And, in the lovely early dawn 
 A happy smile is on the lawn. 
 All things with a shout and song 
 Give forth thanks most glad and strong." 
 11 
 
-^-^£»^ 
 
 138 
 
XVI. 
 THE PIGEON HOUSE. 
 
 A GAME TO EXERCISE ARMS, HANDS, AND FINGERS. 
 
 Children ever are projecting 
 
 Into play tlie life within, 
 Like a niagie lantern throwing 
 
 Pictures on the waiting screen. 
 
 Glad outgoing, sweet home-coming, 
 
 In this little game they see ; 
 At the real home-cominga, mother. 
 
 Gather them about your knee ; 
 
 Ask them of eaeli sight and happening 
 
 In the quiet twilight hour ; 
 Help tlicm weave it all together 
 
 Like a garland, flower'to flower. 
 
 With the years, the larger knowledge 
 Of life's wholeness then will come, 
 
 And its twilight liour will find them 
 With themselves and God at home. 
 
 The position of the liamls is shown with toler- 
 able clearness in the drawing. The left arm is 
 vertical and represents a pole ; the hands so joined 
 as to suggest a quadrangular form make the 
 pigeon house. The fingers of the right hand are 
 extended and bent to show the opening and clos- 
 ing of the pigeon-house door. By various other 
 movements they represent the pigeons. In order 
 139 
 
140 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 to exercise and develop both arms equally, the 
 
 right arm may sometimes make the pole on which 
 the pigeon house is set, while the fingers of the 
 left hand represent the opening and closing door 
 and the flying pigeons. 
 
 The baby is delighted to watch his mother 
 play the Pigeon House. When he is old enough 
 to play it himself it gives him still greater joy. 
 The source of this joy is that the game helps 
 him " to stretch his own little life " so that it 
 may include something of the great life of Na- 
 ture. The yearning to inhale the life of Nature 
 awakens early in the human soul. The young 
 child loves to take it in with long, deep breaths. 
 Hence he longs to be out of doors, and especially 
 to watch the quick, free movements of birds and 
 animals. Mother, cherish this longing, and, when- 
 ever possible, give your child that intimacy with 
 Nature which he craves ; but do not imagine that 
 his craving can be stilled by any merely external 
 experience. His soul seeks the soul of things. 
 His spirit strives, however unconsciously, to pene- 
 trate the phenomenal and transitory ; to find the 
 absolute and abiding ; to recognise in the particu- 
 lar a deep-lying universal ; to discern unity and 
 community in what appears detached and soli- 
 tary. As child of man, or, in other words, as a 
 particular incarnation of generic humanity, as 
 " child of God," a single vital spark of the divine 
 flame, he seeks and must ever seek Unity, the 
 Being that is One in and for itself — God. Foster 
 this eifort of the soul, and make your child aware 
 of it as a moving impulse even while its source 
 
THE PIGEON HOUSE. 141 
 
 and meaning are still incomprehensible to Mm. 
 Dare not to say to yourself that such spiritual 
 nurture may be given too early. Too early ! Do 
 you know when, where, and how spiritual life 
 begins ? Can you trace the boundary line be- 
 tween its being and its non-being ? In God's 
 world, just because it is God's world, all things 
 develop in unbroken continuity. Therefore re- 
 vere the impulse which stirs within you to fan 
 the first faint sparks of spiritual life. So doing, 
 the impulse itself will grow strong and clear, and 
 what you bear in your heart will manifest itself 
 increasingly in your life. 
 
 It is never too early to begin the nurture of 
 spiritual life. Such nurture may, however, be 
 begun in a wrong way. The mistake lies not in 
 the " when " but in the '" how." Your baby must 
 learn to step before he can learn to run ; he must 
 learn to stand before he can learn to step; he 
 must strengthen and develop his legs, and indeed 
 his whole body, before with ease and pleasure he 
 can learn to stand. If you force him to stand 
 and walk too soon he will have weak bowlegs ; 
 if you keep him too long from walking and stand- 
 ing he will be stiff, clumsy, and awkward. In 
 the law of physical evolution you may read the 
 law of spiritual evolution. Force a premature 
 development of spiritual life and it will be weak 
 and distorted ; retard it unduly and it will lack 
 freedom, expansiveness, and grace. How many 
 men and women do we, all of us, know who are 
 going through life with dispositions as deformfed 
 as the child's bowlegs ? How many do we know 
 
142 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 whose souls are wholly unfledged, or have at best 
 mere rudimentary wings ? Mother, mother, never 
 forget the interdependence of all the separate 
 stages of life ; rear your child in harmony with 
 the universal laws of continuity and degree, and 
 adopt as your motto the words, "The earthly 
 destiny of man is to make his own life a whole, 
 and to understand the wholeness of all life." 
 
 But we must not forget our Pigeon House nor 
 the simple law of life which it illustrates. This 
 law seems to be alive in the heart of the mother. 
 It is also stirring in the pulses of every child in 
 the picture. The healthy, active, gleeful baby 
 sitting so securely in his mother's arms never 
 once turns away his glance from the pigeons on 
 the ground ; he seems to be trying to catch them 
 with his eyes that he may take them home with 
 him. The little boy in front of the mother stands 
 motionless, his enchanted gaze fixed upon a tit- 
 mouse who is sitting on a tree near by. From 
 this tree a rotten branch has been cut, and in its 
 hollow stump the titmouse has made her home. 
 She longs to slip into the hole where her babies 
 are waiting for her ; yet, in order not to betray 
 them, she sits with head averted from her 
 nest. The little boy is so interested in watching 
 her that he forgets the apple in his hand and 
 comes near dropping it. He is afraid of startling 
 the bird, and whispers so gently that he can 
 scarcely be heard : " Mother, look at the tree yon- 
 der ; do you see where the bough has been cut 
 away ? do you see a little hole ? I think there is 
 a nest in it." His sympathetic mother begins to 
 
THE PIGEON nOUSE. 143 
 
 walk more slowly and softly, and turns her glance 
 towards the anxious little mother bird. 
 
 The two children who are coming home from 
 a walk must have seen something of real impor- 
 tance to their own lives, for they are evidently 
 completely absorbed in what they are saying to 
 each other about it. 
 
 On the right of our picture sits a mother talk- 
 ing with her little son. Let us listen to their 
 conversation. 
 
 " Tell me, dear, where you have been." 
 
 " In the yard, in the garden, in the field, in 
 the meadow, at the pond, by the brook." 
 
 "And what beautiful things did my darling 
 see ? " 
 
 " Pigeons and chickens ; geese and ducks ; 
 swallows and sparrows ; larks and finches ; ra- 
 vens, magpies, water wagtails and titmice ; bees, 
 beetles, butterflies, and humble-bees." 
 
 "Where did you see the pigeons and chick- 
 ens?" 
 
 " In the yard, mother ; they were picking up 
 grains of wheat and eating them. How fast the 
 little chickens ran whenever they found anything 
 to eat, or when the old rooster called to them 
 that he had found something ! The pigeons could 
 not run so fast as the chickens; neither could 
 the ravens I saw in the field. One raven ran 
 almost as a pigeon runs, and the black pigeon 
 when it was running looked like a raven. But 
 how the ravens and magpies could hop! So 
 could the water wagtails and the sparrows. It is 
 such fun to see them hopping about on their little 
 
144 MOTHER PLAT. 
 
 stiff legs! Oh, mother, you must go with me to 
 tlie fields some day and let me show them to you. 
 And the geese and ducks, how they swim and 
 dive! They can fly, too, for they flew straight 
 over my head and away to the pond. How they 
 frightened me ! "' 
 
 "Why shouldn't they fly, my child? They 
 are birds, just like the pigeons and chickens, the 
 swallows and sparrows, the finches and the 
 larks." 
 
 " Mother, are pigeons and hens birds ? " 
 
 " My child, haven't they feathers, haven't they 
 wings, haven't they two legs, as all other birds 
 have ? " 
 
 " But pigeons live in the pigeon house, and 
 chickens don't fly ! " 
 
 " Chickens have only forgotten how to fly be- 
 cause they fly so little. If we wish not to forget 
 a thing we must always keep on doing it. As for 
 the pigeons, why shouldn't they live in the pigeon 
 house ? Sparrows and swallows are birds, and 
 they live in houses and under roofs." 
 
 " Mother, are bees and beetles and butterflies 
 birds, too ? They have wings, and can fly much 
 higher than chickens and ducks." 
 
 "Yes, they can fly, but they have no feathers 
 and build no little nests. Besides, there are 
 many things birds have which bees and butter- 
 flies have not. They are animals, for they can 
 move as they wish. They also have some- 
 thing which birds have not. Look at this beetle, 
 and then at this little fly. See, they have a 
 notch here, and another there. We call these 
 
THE PIGEON HOUSE. 145 
 
 notches sections, and the little notched creatures 
 insects." * 
 
 " Mother, when I again go out of doors you 
 mnst go with me."' 
 
 " I cannot promise to go with you, my darling, 
 for I have much to do. I must put the house in 
 order, cook you something to eat, and make you 
 some little clothes. Out of doors everything is 
 in beautifi\l order ; each thing has its own place, 
 each has its own work, which it does with joy. 
 It seems to me I can hear the dear God who made 
 this beautiful, orderly world saying to me, 
 'Wife, mother, in your little home everything 
 must be in order, and every person in the house 
 must do his work at the right time.' But this is 
 not all he says to me. He tells me that every 
 person in the whole world must find his right 
 place, and do his right work at the right time. 
 He tells me that while my child is still young and 
 small he may flutter about, exercising his strength 
 as birds exercise their wings. After a while he 
 must be like the firmly rooted apple tree, so that 
 his life may bear healthy fruit. But be sure, 
 dear, when you go out of doors to see all you can, 
 so that you may have much to tell me when you 
 come home." 
 
 " Mother, to-morrow I am going again to the 
 fields. When I come home I shall have new 
 things to tell you, and you will explain to me 
 again what the dear God is saying." 
 
 * I borrow this translation of Kerben and Kerbthiere from 
 Miss liord. 
 
140 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Postscript. — TeacMiig and learning go on all 
 tlirough man's life. The oldest teacher has much 
 to learn, and must always be ready to let himself 
 be taught by animals, trees, and stones, as well as 
 by men. Here is a lesson I have learned lately 
 from the pigeons : While making a round of visits, 
 I spent some days with a friend who was a great 
 pigeon fancier. My room was near the pigeon 
 house and I often heard the birds talking to- 
 gether, particularly when they had been off for a 
 flight. This experience led to the following ad- 
 dition to my pigeon song : 
 
 And when they get home you will hear them say, 
 " ' How happy we were out of doors to-day — 
 Coo-coo 1 coo-coo ! coo-coo ! ' "' 
 
 The children were pleased to think that the 
 pigeons told each other about their merry flights, 
 and were the more ready to tell all they had them- 
 selves seen and heard when out of doors. 
 
 Mother, a story told at the right time is a 
 looking-glass for the mind.'' 
 
XVII. 
 
 NAMING THE FINGERS. 
 
 CouMT your baby's rosy fingcre, 
 
 Name them for him, one by one ; 
 Teach him how to use them deftlj"^, 
 
 Ere the dimples are all gone ; 
 So, still gaining skill with service, 
 
 All he does will be well done. 
 
 Everybody knows how to count on the fingers, 
 and how to hold the hand while so doing. The 
 position of the hand is also shown clearly in the 
 picture. It is necessary, however, to say a few 
 words with regard to the significance of this little 
 play. 
 
 The traditional counting games, so well known 
 in every nurserj^, seemed to me either to be silly 
 and meaningless, or to say many things I would 
 not willingly have children hear. On the other 
 hand, some form of counting game appeared to 
 me important from several points of view. These 
 points of view I have endeavoured to make clear 
 in my little songs and in the mottoes prefixed to 
 them. I have also tried to preserve some echo of 
 the traditional words. 
 
 Naming the Fingers, the first of my series of 
 counting plays, directs the child's attention to 
 the names of his fingers (index finger, middle 
 147 
 
148 
 
NAMING THE FINGERS. 149 
 
 finger, ring or gold finger, little finger), and sug- 
 gests how these names arose. I have not thought 
 it necessary to give the genesis of the word 
 thumb, which undoubtedly comes from dam, and 
 has been applied to the thumb because it seems 
 to form a dam or barrier.* Simple connections 
 of this kind between word and thing should, 
 whenever possible, be pointed out to children. 
 By noticing them the mind escapes from super- 
 ficiality and forms habits of comparison and 
 reflection. 
 
 The artist has intentionally represented the 
 fingers of the left hand as women and little girls, 
 those of the right hand as men and boys. Is he 
 hinting to us the harmony which should exist 
 between the intellect and the heart ? If I under- 
 stand him aright, he has striven in many ways 
 to suggest that high and noble accord, that 
 cheerful co-operation so necessary in family life 
 and in the larger institutions of civil society and 
 state. 
 
 "Look at the mother who is carrying her lit- 
 tle daughter on her ai'm. What is she doing ?" 
 " I think she is teaching baby the names of her 
 fingers. She is also trying to teach her how to 
 use them. She hopes that when baby grows older 
 she will be like the two little girls who are busy 
 sewing and spinning; like the two children in 
 the garden who are planting flowers ; like the 
 
 * Froebel is not reliable in his etymologies. Thumb is from 
 a root signifying to grow large or increase, and so means the 
 thiek finger. — Translator. 
 
150 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 sturdy boy wlio is climbing a tree to get them 
 some plums." 
 
 " Mother, may I climb a tree ? " 
 
 " Yes, when you are stronger, and when you 
 have learned to keep your balance." 
 
XVIII. 
 THE GREETING. 
 
 Ah, what a wondrous gift of God 
 
 Our humau bodies are, 
 V Still serving us from day to day, 
 Both in our work and in our play, 
 
 Without a break or jar ! 
 
 Dear mother, when you see your babe 
 
 Play with his tiny hands. 
 As though just learning they were his, 
 Eemember, here a lesson is 
 
 For one who understands. 
 
 Oh, help him, as his body grows 
 
 To feel it is God-given, 
 So that in all earth's happy ways, 
 Through peaceful nights and busy days. 
 
 Ills life may forecast licuvcu ! 
 
 The manner of playing this little game is ex- 
 plained by song and picture. Its inner meaning 
 is disclosed by the motto. It requires, therefore, 
 only a few words by way of commentary. 
 
 There is a general and increasing lament over 
 the indelicate actions into which little children 
 in their blindness are prone to fall ; and, alas ! 
 the most cursory observation proves that the 
 lament is only too widely justified. Experiences 
 of this nature wound the delicacy, destroy the 
 modesty, and stain the purity of the soul. What 
 shall we do to get rid of this sneaking pestilence 
 151 
 
153 
 
THE GREETING. 153 
 
 which poisons all that is noblest in the child, and 
 whose taint continues to infect his later life ? 
 
 There is but one means of avoiding wrong 
 activity; but rejoice, friends of childhood and 
 humanity, for it is a sure preventive. This pre- 
 ventive is right activity — an activity as per- 
 sistent as it is fit and lawful ; an activity which 
 is not of the body alone, nor yet alone of the 
 heart or head ; an activity wherein are blended 
 body and soul, feeling and thought. 
 
 To capacitate the child for this pure and 
 complete activity, we must begin in infancy to 
 exercise and discipline hands and fingers. In 
 order to avoid vacuity of mind we must make 
 this exercise a means of opening to the soul the 
 inner life of surrounding objects. To point out 
 how this double aim may be accomplished is one 
 of the prime objects of my nursery plays. 
 
 12 
 
!t)ic Orogmama 
 
 unb 
 
 SUiuttcr licb ull^ n"*- 
 
 „tiai OTcfirere tin OoiiitS 
 
 (Inb, 
 Iiic§ ai)nft ttml)! fcf)on ftiift 
 
 ctn ^inb ; 
 2)'nim lcf)rt bic SOIuttet au^ 
 
 mtt giEig 
 g« fennen ben ganiilien- 
 
 SreiS." 
 
 '^'''"3^f\l. 
 
 
 mf^ 
 
 
XIX. 
 
 THE FAMILY. 
 
 When baby's eyes first open to the light, 
 The same dear household faces meet his sight, 
 
 Which, as months change to years, he learns to lore. 
 Oh, teach him that the dear ones of his home, 
 Both now and in the years which are to come. 
 
 Beneath one roof, or wheresoe'cr they rove. 
 Are one di'ar fainily ! — more closely l)0und 
 By love than if by iron Lflrtled round. 
 
 If there is one thing which more than any 
 other demands to be rightly apprehended and 
 reverently cherished it is the life of the family. 
 Family life! Family life! Who shall fathom 
 thy depths ? Who shall declare thy meaning ? 
 How shall I compress into the few words I may 
 permit myself any idea of thy sacred import ? 
 
 Thon art the sanctuary of humanity; thou 
 art the temple wherein the flame of divinity is 
 kept alive and burning. Let me be frank and 
 outspoken. Thou art m.ore than school and 
 Church ! Thou art greater than all the institu- 
 tions which necessity has called into being for 
 the protection of life and property! Without 
 the conscience to which thou givest birth, with- 
 out the reflection which thou dost foster, the 
 school is but a sterile egg — an egg which con- 
 155 
 
156 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 tains indeed nourishing material but lacks the 
 germ of life. Without thee, what are altar and 
 temple ? Thou must anoint thy members with 
 the oil of consecration. Then shall they seek 
 with heart and mind, with love and thought, the 
 altar of the one true God, learn with reverence to 
 understand his revelation, and with strenuous 
 will obey his law. And once more, O family ! thou 
 art the security of all institutions, offensive and 
 defensive, whose object is to maintain law and 
 justice. For he who is reared in a family unhal- 
 lowed by the presence of justice and of law tends 
 to become a scoffer of the one and a rebel against 
 the other. 
 
 Therefore, mother, strive to awaken in the 
 soiil of your child, even in infancy, some premo- 
 nition of the nature of a living whole, and partic- 
 ularly some glimpse into the meaning of the 
 family whole. So doing you will lay the founda- 
 tions for true and vigorous and harmonious life. 
 For where wholeness is there is life, or at least 
 the germ of life ; where division is, even if it be 
 only halfness, there is death, or at least the germ 
 of death. 
 
 In picturing the family, the relationships of 
 grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, and 
 child should be thrown into clear relief. In the 
 relationship of his parents to his grandparents 
 the child beholds, as in a mirror, his own rela- 
 tionship to father and mother. As he stands to 
 his father and mother, so they stand to his grand- 
 father and grandmother. Conversely, parents 
 behold a reflection of their relationship to their 
 
THE FAMILY. 157 
 
 child in the relationship of his grandparents to 
 themselves. To apprehend the manifold aspects 
 of this double relationship is undoubtedly of the 
 highest importance for the inner life and devel- 
 opment of the child. Doubtless our artist felt its 
 significance, for he shows us repeatedly in his 
 picture a living whole of five members, giving us 
 hints of it even in the forms of flowers. In con- 
 nection with these flowers there seems to have 
 hovered before his mind a fancy which it may be 
 worth while to mention. Not only all kernel and 
 stone fruits, but all plants belonging to the family 
 group they represent, accentuate the number five 
 in their blossoms. Has the pleasant flavour of 
 these fruits anything to do with this pervading 
 law ? 
 
)p5 W '^' gtetn ! ter ^en^^ ei iud)t ermi§t; 
 SSJelcbe ^unft, er at)net '« taunt, 
 AjVJrjJC-':^ ©t^ ju finben in bem SRaum. 
 ;^^7f '-^''^^ 3a. bo^ rid)t^9e 3cifiicn 
 
 Cefert unS SRecfcte^ rcoMen, 
 fiebrt urt« <Sd)Ied)tefi meiten, 
 ©iel)t fo ccl)te SvEUben." 
 
 158 
 
XX. 
 
 NUMBERING THE FINGERS. 
 
 The baby sits upon his niotlier's Icnee, 
 Eepcatiug after lier, 
 
 With wide-eyed earnestness 
 And pretty baby-lisp, his " one — two — tljrce." 
 
 N<.)r babe nor mother guess 
 That tlicy have touched the liey 
 Whieh opens reahns of thought wide as eternity 1 
 
 For without number, where were form or size, 
 Or measure ? laeliing whieh 
 
 All were but chaos here. 
 Or where proportion ? whieh at length doth rise 
 
 Into the higher sphere 
 Of thought, to make it wise, 
 And fit to measure right and wrong with calm, clear eyes. 
 
 I lay the thumb in its natural position, the 
 nail resting against the index finger. As I name 
 and count each successive finger I bend it towards 
 my extended palm. I am careful not to close the 
 fingers over the thumb. When all the fingers 
 have been thus bent inward the position of the 
 hands suggests quiet and repose. The song and 
 picture explain that each finger is a sleeping 
 child. 
 
 Rest and sleep are expressed in everj^ detail of 
 the picture. The poppies are asleep, so also are 
 the five little birds in the tree. But slumber is 
 159 
 
160 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 only life in repose. In like manner, life and 
 meaning slumber in our counting game. With- 
 out number, as expressed in rhythm, there could 
 be no poem ; without number, as expressed in 
 measure and accent, there could be no music. A 
 single false count, a single miscalculation, may 
 impoverish your whole life. Never shall your 
 loss be entirely made good. Only by painful 
 effort can it be in part repaired. 
 
 The young child seems to have some inkling 
 of the importance of number. Who does not 
 know how children love to count ? Who does 
 not remember how in his own childhood he de- 
 lighted in all forms of counting games ? Let us 
 endeavour to freight this impulse with its true 
 meaning by directing attention to the manifold 
 applications of number, and especially to the re- 
 lationships between number and form, as mani- 
 fested in the objects of nature. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE FINGER PIANO. 
 
 One — two — three — four — five, you sing ; 
 Baby listens, as you swing 
 Back and forth with changing numbers, 
 Till at last the music slumbers 
 With a folded wing. 
 
 Five — four — three — two — as each tone 
 Marks the rhythm — three — two — one ; 
 Baby eyes your moving fingers 
 With an eager look that lingers 
 When the song is done. 
 
 For a something in his heart 
 Answers to your simple art ; 
 And, like silent bells set ringing, 
 Makes the little song you're singing 
 Seem of him a part. 
 
 All the music which we hear, 
 Listening with the outward ear. 
 Would be powerless to win us. 
 If there lived not deep within us 
 Its innate idea. 
 
 All the universe seems set 
 To a measure, when we get 
 Near enough to hear the beating 
 Of its heart, and, by repeating, 
 Learn its alphabet. 
 
 Then the soul is often stirred 
 With some harmony unheard 
 By the ear — all rhythmic motion. 
 Blended hues or fair proportion. 
 Justify this word. 
 161 
 
„3B{i8 bas flinb tiilt Slujtn flcdt, 
 
 gteul ju bhrin iai Oemiift. 
 
 SieleJ biH^ lum MenMcn fijriiijt, 
 
 ^ijtt '« to* (iui're Otjt mii) itidit ; 
 
 TOugt fctej friifi bem J?lnb(i)eii le^reit, 
 
 SHSiBd 3)11 Sctcnsfreub' it)ttt meljrcii." 
 
 #1^^ '^^^- 
 
 163 
 
THE FINGER PIANO. 163 
 
 In all Nature is no schism — 
 When we have received this chrism, 
 I'lovver bells chime for sunny weather, 
 And the colours sing together 
 In the trembling prism. 
 
 The fingers of the left hand represent the keys 
 of a piano. They are slightly bent at the middle 
 joint, and thus gain a certain elasticity. The 
 fingers of the right hand press npon them as in 
 the act of playing on the piano. 
 
 In the commentary to the preceding song I 
 alluded to the relationship between, number and 
 music. Through playing the finger piano the 
 child wins from his practical experience some 
 remote idea of the relationship of number not 
 only to melody and time, but also to that organ- 
 isation of movement which we call measure. 
 
 Have you ever reflected upon the important 
 bearings of measure, rhythm, and proportion 
 upon man's daily life ? He who in all things 
 obeys the law of measure is a man of tact. Do 
 you wish to develop this fine tact in your child ? 
 Do you desire that his life shall be a musical and 
 ■harmonious one ? If so, cultivate his love of song 
 and his ability to sing. 
 
 A teacher of my acquaintance complains that, 
 as compared with the Italians, we Germans lack 
 musical ear and have untrained vocal organs. 
 She attributes these defects .to the fact that we 
 give no adequate training in singing either to 
 our children or our youth. Through this defect 
 in our education we practically close the gates of 
 the glad free world of song. 
 
164 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Mother, retrieve this error in the education of 
 your dear child. Then, by the influence which 
 from song radiates upon his whole life, you will 
 perceive with what a jewel you have enriched 
 him. Moreover, in cultivating your child's power 
 of song you will yourself learn to sing, or at the 
 very least to enjoy and appreciate singing. 
 
 Higher and more important than the cultiva- 
 tion of man's outer ear is the culture of that 
 inner sense of harmony whereby the soul learns 
 to perceive sweet accord in soundless things, and 
 to discern within itself harmonies and discords. 
 The importance of wakening the inner ear to this 
 music of the soul can scarcely be exaggerated. 
 Learning to hear it within, the child will strive to 
 give it outer form and expression ; and even if in 
 such effort he is only partially successful, he will 
 gain thereby the power to appreciate the more 
 successful effort of others. Thus enriching his 
 own life by the life of others, he solves the prob- 
 lem of development. How else were it possible 
 within the quickly fleeting hours of mortal life 
 to develop our being in all directions, to fathom 
 its depths, scale its heights, measure its bound- 
 aries ? What we are, what we would be, we 
 must learn to recognise in the mirror of all other 
 lives. By the effort of each and the recognition 
 of all the divine man is revealed in humanity. 
 
 And now may I say just a word about the 
 charming picture which illustrates this play ? 
 Mother, try to make your child feel its music. 
 The whole picture is melody. Everything in it 
 is singing, or listening to song. The swaying 
 
TUB FINGER PIANO. 165 
 
 wheat sings. The lark in its midst listens. The 
 fragrance of the convolvulus is sweet music to 
 the bees, and they accompany it with their whir- 
 ring wings. The many-coloured bird perched 
 in the bushy tree above the head of the musician 
 has flown near the head of the sound-stream 
 in order that not one of its waves may escape 
 him. The canary in the cage flutters and twit- 
 ters, as if trying to say, " Recognise in least and 
 smallest things the great Creator's might." How 
 sweetly yonder little bi'other and sister are play- 
 ing ! And how absorbed they are in the music 
 they are making ! This is what I call harmony 
 of life. The artist could not have pictured it 
 more beautifully. Tlie little birds above the 
 boy's head have flown as near as possible so that 
 they may hear well. The lark, that master of 
 song, cannot refrain from joining in the music and 
 making its rhythm visible in the movement of his 
 wings. Even the dull-eared beetle forsakes the 
 leaf he has been nibbling in order to get nearer 
 to the music. The colours say, " We, too, must 
 take part in the symphony," and their glowing 
 and accordant hues make music for the eye. The 
 heads of wheat paint themselves with gold. The 
 lark takes on the colour of the earth, in order that 
 earth's sheltering furrows may protect her from 
 capture. The faithful cornflower reflects the 
 azure sky. The home-loving bee dons a suit of 
 workaday brown. Pink are the cheeks of the 
 children, golden brown the boy's curling locks, 
 while the flaxen hair of the little girl makes a 
 fair setting for her bright blue eyes. Eound 
 
166 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 them all the atmosphere throws its veil of misty 
 blue. Through it streams the golden sunlight, 
 that the green of hope may clothe the children of 
 earth. The beetle stays his droning flight, and 
 lo ! upon his broad back the colours meet as upon 
 a painter's palette. 
 
XXII. 
 
 HAPPY BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 
 
 Dear mother, when the busy day is done, 
 And sleeping lies each tired little one, 
 Then fold your own hands on a heart at rest, 
 And sleep with them upon God's loving breast. 
 
 The love that gave you such a sacred charge 
 Is passing tender and exceeding large ! 
 Oh, trust it utterly, and it will pour 
 Into each crevice of your life its store. 
 
 Then things unworthy shall no more find room. 
 And like a sweet contagion in your home 
 Your life shall be. A life that's liid in God 
 Tells its great secret witliout spoken word. 
 
 The gesture wliicli accompanies this song is 
 perfectly simple. It is shown clearly in the 
 drawing. I need only mention that, in conform- 
 ity with the idea and evolution of the song, the 
 fingers should be very slowly intertwined. 
 
 No phase of the process of nurture is more 
 tender, more important, and more difficult than 
 the nurture of that hidden life of the heart and 
 the prescient imagination out of which proceeds 
 all that is highest and holiest in individual man 
 and in humanity, and whose perfect blossom is a 
 soul at one with God in thought, word, and deed. 
 
 We have already asked ourselves when and 
 how this inner life begins. It is like the seed 
 167 
 
168 
 
HAPPY BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 169 
 
 which germinates in darkness, and which is 
 growing long before its growth is outwardly vis- 
 ible. It is like the stars which astronomers tell 
 us are shining long before their beams fall upon 
 our eyes. 
 
 We cannot catch the first faint breaths of 
 spiritual life, and the moment when the tendency 
 towards God is born passes silent and unnoticed. 
 To nurture this tendency prematurely is like 
 exposing a seed too early to nourishing mois- 
 ture and developing light. If, on the other 
 hand, spiritual nurture is tardy or feeble, the re- 
 sult must likewise be a dwarfed or abortive 
 growth. 
 
 What, then, shall we do ? Let me answer 
 this question by asking another : How does the 
 life of the spirit make itself outwardly visible ? 
 With what gesture do we associate its birth and 
 development ? What act seems to us to be its 
 physical analogue ? In a word, do we not, each 
 and all of us, connect devout feeling with clasped 
 or folded hands ? 
 
 And yet, what possible correspondence can 
 there be between folded hands and the inner 
 life ? Is not this gesture merely accidental or 
 conventional ? How can that which is accidental 
 or conventional have any necessary connection 
 with man's inner life ? 
 
 Between the inner life and its outward ex- 
 pression the connection must be a necessary one, 
 and if this be so we should be able to discover 
 some common characteristic. What, then, is the 
 quality common to the devout mind and the 
 13 
 
170 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 folded hands ? I answer, " It is coUectedness, 
 the gathering together of the forces of life." 
 The folding of the hands is therefore no acci- 
 dental phenomenon. It is the outward and visi- 
 ble sign of an inward coUectedness, and, as such, 
 is rooted in the depths of the universal heart. 
 Much might he said on this subject were it per- 
 missible for me to discuss it in more detail. But 
 enough ! 
 
 Recognising the correspondence between the 
 two orders of life, we may mark the moment 
 when the soul begins to collect her force and 
 thus win a point of departure for the culture of 
 spiritual life. For who has not noticed that at a 
 certain period of development little children love 
 to fold their hands, and that when they do this 
 of themselves their attitude and expression prove 
 that out of disjointed fragments of feeling, 
 thought, and will, they have gathered themselves 
 together in a living unity. We need have no 
 fear that a tender nurture of this coUectedness 
 will prove injurious, for without coUectedness the 
 soul can neither strengthen nor unfold her powers. 
 
 In the conviction I have expressed is rooted 
 the song we are now considering. The motto 
 accompanying it points out that the mother must 
 possess in herself the inner unity of life which she 
 would cherish in her child. 
 
 In calling the fingers children, and not only 
 children, but brothers and sisters, we simply 
 take a forward step upon an already broken 
 path. We should also by this time be familiar 
 with the thought that children love to see their 
 
HAPPY BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 171 
 
 own inner life mirrored in a life which is alien 
 to them. To behold these reflections is a help 
 always, a hindrance never, to the growth of the 
 soul. 
 
 Therefore, when your darling shows you that 
 he has reached the requisite plane of develop- 
 ment, let him look quietly at the sweet faces of 
 the children in this picture and at their devout 
 and gentle mother. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE CHILDREN ON THE TOWER. 
 
 A CHILD at play we think a pretty sight ; 
 A band of playmates gives us more delight. 
 The child may love a blossom, red or white, 
 But more a wreath in which all hues unite. 
 
 And so, dear mother, weave these little plays 
 Which have beguiled your baby's happy days. 
 Many in one he sees ; and through the maze 
 Of his young mind a great truth sends its rays. 
 
 That this play is a grouping together of all 
 the games which precede it is suggested in the 
 motto. In the beginning of the game the hands 
 are held apart ; at the words, " A- visiting now 
 they come/' they are clapped together. The song 
 itself, taken in connection with those which pre- 
 cede it, will suggest all other requisite positions 
 and gestures. 
 
 The position of the hands and fingers, repre- 
 senting the grandmothers going into the church, 
 and the gesture expressive of thanks, may both 
 be seen in the illustration which accompanies 
 this song. The gesture of prayer is well known. 
 Nevertheless, I have thought it well to picture it 
 in the illustration to the song of " Happy Broth- 
 ers and Sisters." 
 
 The four divisions of the picture which illus- 
 trates the play now under consideration interpret 
 173 
 
174 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 themselves, and you will have no difficulty in 
 explaining them to your questioning child. The 
 group in the lower left-hand picture shows the 
 visiting fingers. Each group of children is led 
 by a grandmother. The lower right-hand pic- 
 ture shows the children chatting together about 
 the flower basket, the bird's nest, the egg, the 
 pigeon house, the ball. The grandmothers sit- 
 ting quietly on a balcony rejoice in the happy 
 play of the children. In the third picture the 
 two grandmothers are going to church, and the 
 children are climbing or preparing to climb the 
 tower. The fourth picture shows the fallen 
 tower, while from the church emerge unharmed 
 and grateful the grandmothers and all the little 
 children. 
 
 Studying this play and picture you will learn 
 much which will be helpful to you in your 
 efliorts to cherish the inner life of your child. 
 Such suggestions, however, spring so easily and 
 naturally from the play itself, and from a con- 
 sideration of its relationship to all preceding 
 plays, that further comments would merely cramp 
 and fetter you. 
 
Note. — With the Children on the Tower ends what 
 may be called Part I of the Mother Play. It is a review 
 game wherein preceding plays are brought together, and 
 the heart of the child is stirred with some faint premo- 
 nition of his own life as a process of becoming. The 
 games which follow it respond to an ever-increasing 
 consciousness of self and an ever-deepening sense of 
 social relationship. 
 
 Each of these main divisions of the Mother Play is 
 again divided into two parts. In the first division the 
 break is marked by the game of The Target ; in the sec- 
 ond, by the game of The Knights and the Good Child. 
 For an explanation of the inner significance of these 
 transitions, see my book on Symbolic Education, pages 
 157-163. 
 
 175 
 
Ulai Sinb unb bet SMonb. 
 
 Somm, J?itib4en, fiiou ben OTonb, 
 Iietbort om ^immel nioljnt. 
 „Jtomm, Wmi, tomm bod) oe» 
 
 fdjloinb 
 Alerter jiim llcbcn fflnb ! " 
 „2Bo6I Mm' Ic^ ju SDit gern, 
 JJoii) ti)o))n' id) got gu fern, 
 ^onn au« bem blauen ^ani 
 ^ier oben nid)t SctauS. 
 SSeil i(i tann fcmmeit nid)t, 
 ®Enb' i(t mfln itUti tidjt ; 
 Urn '8 fiinbcl)en ju Etftcun, 
 ©d)itl' id) bem milben Sd)ein ; 
 Unb bin id) and) nid)t nnl), 
 Bin iii in Sieb' bDd) ba. 
 ®ei, ffinbdjen, nur red)t fromm, 
 Son 3eit JU 3eit id) lomm. 
 Unb freunbli* id) bann fd)l(fe 
 J>ir meine SiebeSblicfe ; 
 SBir flriifcn iin« bann beibe, 
 Oemeinfam un« jur greube." 
 „f eb' njotl, teb' reobl I mein 3Jtottb 
 anit Siebc, 8iebe tol)nt." 
 
 176 
 
XXIV. 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE MOON. 
 
 This song requires no interpretation. What 
 mother is ignorant of the attraction of the moon 
 for the child ? What mother does not know 
 that this attraction is so great that it often ren- 
 ders him insensible to pain ? 
 
 As the child is drawn by the moon, so in 
 maturer years our souls are drawn by spiritual 
 light. As the sight of the moon stills the child's 
 pain, so the vision of the heavenly light makes 
 man oblivious of all earthly ills. 
 
 This little song is intended simply to illustrate 
 to you how you may make the moon's attraction 
 a point of departure for the development of that 
 spiritual attraction of which it is but the van- 
 ishing symbol. 
 
 177 
 
.ss:^.^n 
 
 !Dcv CIdne £nabe unb tet 
 
 ,9!Barunt fdjeineit Dinge, in bem 
 
 SRaume fern, 
 Slnfonci^ iDoIjI bem flctnen ^inb 
 
 fo innig nal)? — 
 SDarum luunftftt, erfe&nt baa 
 
 ^(eine wot)! fo 0crn, 
 2)ap ba^ tjcrne jur Setein'gung 
 
 iDcire ba ? 
 S!Ba« mag Wluttex uni toobl biefi 
 
 com ^inbc lebrcn <* — 
 Dag ttJtr fern Sntfolten fortern 
 
 unb nid)t ftoren 
 !Dag e() fli^ bte ©inge in bem 
 
 SRaume toLn ibm TOinfcen, 
 (£« bie (£m gung i\wt|'c^en fii^ 
 
 wnt i^nen moge finben." 
 
 
 178 
 
XXV. 
 
 THE LITTLE BOY AND THE MOON. 
 
 Why does the white moon, floating far 
 
 In distant realms of blue, 
 And shedding thence its lustre mild, 
 Seem so much nearer to your child 
 
 Than e'er it seems to you * 
 
 It is not that he sees amiss, 
 
 Or that your eyes are dim : 
 Herein a higher truth is taught — 
 Make it a part of your osvn thought. 
 
 Then give it back to him ! 
 
 He stretches now a baby hand 
 
 To grasp the heavenly light. 
 Oh, may no barrier ever rise 
 To make him with the years less wise, 
 
 Or dim his longing sight ! 
 
 Then hasten not to break the spell 
 
 Which holds him in sweet thrall ; 
 Translate it rather, that it seem 
 In years to come no childish dream 
 
 To be at one with all ! 
 
 This song was suggested by an incident from 
 real life. The motto explains the symbolic im- 
 port of a phenomenon which is recurrent in child, 
 and especially in boy, life. We too often ignore 
 the child's wonder at the moon and the starry 
 heavens. Hence it collapses into formless and 
 empty astonishment. We should recognise in 
 179 
 
180 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 such wonder a question asked by the soul, 
 and should so answer it as to prepare the child 
 for a true apperception of .the heavenly bodies. 
 Thus it is easy to direct the attention of even 
 very young children to the way in which the 
 moon seems to swim through the clouds, and to 
 her often clearly perceptible spherical form. 
 
 The wonder of the soul in presence of the 
 heavenly lights also opens for us a path over 
 which we may guide the child towards some 
 inner apprehension of the being of their Creator. 
 In an age when all detached and outward phe- 
 nomena are instinctively grasped in identity with 
 an inner and unifying life, it is easy to direct im- 
 agination from the heavens to Him whose glory 
 they declare. A hint as to the method of doing 
 this will, however, be given in our next song. 
 
 Confronted by objects whose nature he is not 
 able to apprehend, the child accepts with simple 
 faith the explanations of his elders. Whether 
 such explanations be true or false he believes 
 them with equal ease, and this is especially the 
 case when they are connected with and seemingly 
 verified by his own perceptions. Hence, by false 
 explanations the child may be led to conceive the 
 moon as a man and the stars as gold pins or 
 burning lamps. On the other hand, by means of 
 true though necessarily partial explanations, he 
 may recognise in the former a beautiful, shining, 
 swimming ball, and in the latter great blazing 
 suns which look so tiny only because they are so 
 far off. 
 
 The one way of looking at moon and stars de- 
 
THE LITTLE BOY AND THE MOON. 181 
 
 spite its apparent life is barren and lifeless ; tlie 
 other bears witMn it a seed of thought which 
 may later develop into rational insight. Why 
 should we withhold from the child the living and 
 life-giving explanation and weigh him down 
 with a dead one ? Truth is harmful never ; error 
 is harmful always, even though it may some- 
 times lead to the truth. 
 
fl d)en unb He Sterne. 
 
 isa 
 
XXVI. 
 
 THE LITTLE MAIDEN AND THE STARS. 
 
 The young child loves in phantasy to see 
 Human relationships in star or tree, 
 Or anything that may about him be. 
 
 Nature and life around him seem a glass, 
 
 To mirror that which fills his heart. Alas, 
 
 That with the years the childish dream should pass I 
 
 But break it not, until its hidden thought 
 Into more lasting meaning has been caught. 
 Once gone, with pain and tears it must be bought. 
 
 All that is noble in your child is stirred, 
 And every energy to action spurred 
 By Nature's silent, oft-repeated word. 
 
 He sees the moon glide on her silver way ; 
 He sees the stars return with closing day ; 
 He sees each plant some hidden law obey. 
 
 No wonder that he thinks an inner spring 
 Of love creative lives in everything, 
 And bids it to his life an offering bring. 
 
 And as the bright unbroken chain returns 
 
 In beauty on itself, his spirit yearns 
 
 Towards that great love which dimly he discerns. 
 
 A child's conceit? Nay, larger truth indeed. 
 Which shall sustain him in his later need — 
 A faith too deep for any written creed. 
 
 Like its predecessor, this song was suggested 
 by an actual occurrence. Two bright planets 
 were in near conjunction. A little two-year- 
 183 
 
184 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 old girl, looking at them, exclaimed with joy, 
 " Father-and-mother stars ! " 
 
 We all know the tendency of childhood to im- 
 pute to inanimate objects human life and human 
 relationships. The incident just recorded is, 
 however, a striking illustration of this tendency, 
 for no one knew how the little girl had fallen 
 upon the comparison and connection of ideas 
 which her cry implied. 
 
 Thus much is sure: the inner life of child- 
 hood may be deepened and strengthened by 
 cherishing the impulse to impute personal life 
 to inanimate objects. Loyally obeying the hint 
 thrown out by the soul, we may aid its struggle 
 towards the insight that it is one spirit which 
 lives in all and works through all. 
 
XXVII. 
 THE LIGHT-BIRD. 
 
 We most do own what we own not, 
 
 But which is free to all. 
 The sunset light upon the sea, 
 A passing strain of melody. 
 
 Are ours beyond recall. 
 
 The soul lias many capacities, yet it is a single 
 and indivisible unit. The child's first knowledge 
 is a knowledge of his own being as an undifferen- 
 tiated totality. It is of the utmost importance to 
 his inner and outer development — and, indeed, to 
 the whole course of his life — -that his feeling of 
 the unity of his being should be a strong and 
 living one before he descends into the conscious- 
 ness and culture of specific powers. The mani- 
 festations of infancy prove beyond dispute that 
 the order of development is from the universal 
 to the particular, and that all distinctions in 
 thought and feeling arise through a process of 
 specification. 
 
 How different are the motor activities from 
 the activities of sense, yet how each reacts upon 
 the other ! Each one of our little plays has shown 
 us either the recoil of movement upon sensation 
 or the recoil of sensation upon movement. Even 
 our very simple Play with the Limbs incited to 
 14 185 
 
im 
 
THE LIGHT-BIRD. 187 
 
 activity the sense of sight, while conversely we 
 learned from the song of The Boy and the Moon 
 how the sensation of sight reacts upon the ac- 
 tivity of body and limbs. 
 
 Not only is there a reaction between motor 
 activity and the energy of sense, but the activity 
 of one sense excites the activity of the other 
 senses. The reaction of hearing upon sight will 
 be evident to any one who will notice how much 
 more strongly visible things appeal to the child 
 when interpreted by word and tone. Hence the 
 instinctive mother always links object and word, 
 and clothes the word with a garment of song. 
 On the other hand, vision reacts upon and incites 
 to activity the organ of hearing. The original 
 implicit unity of the diiferent senses is further 
 shown by the fact that what the baby sees and 
 feels he also tries to taste, and everything his 
 hands can grasp is promptly carried to his 
 mouth. 
 
 Very early in the development of the child, 
 however, the sense of sight asserts its supremacy. 
 Sight is the regnant sense. It tests and orders 
 the results of all the other senses. In the sense 
 of sight the nature of man as a seer and discerner 
 is symbolically declared. Hence you say to your 
 child, " Through your dear eyes, my darling, I can 
 look into your soul." Hence also we demand of 
 children that they shall use their eyes aright. 
 We bid them "look before and around them." 
 We chide them for seeing and hearing nothing. 
 Rising to higher analogies, we speak of the 
 "healthy eye," and of the single eye through 
 
188 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 which the whole body is full of light. Ponder 
 even these few examples of the connection be- 
 tween physical and spiritual seeing, and you will 
 begin to realise that a wise culture of the sense 
 of sight is of paramount importance to the outer 
 and inner welfare of your child ; that it is indeed 
 the axis about which revolve the energies of 
 mind — the fountain source of spiritual experience, 
 the very nucleus of the embryonic life of the 
 soul. 
 
 With the recognition of this truth, dear 
 mother, we penetrate to the heart of our com- 
 mon endeavour ; we find the core of our in- 
 most thought ; we touch the ultimate presuppo- 
 sition of all the songs and plays in this little 
 book. We desire for the child a serene and un- 
 impeded development. Our ideal demands, on 
 the one hand, that he shall exert with tranquil 
 power all the specific energies of his soul, and, on 
 the other, that he shall preserve intact his central 
 consciousness of the unity of his selfhood. We 
 can be satisfied neither with thought divorced 
 from feeling, nor with any feelings save such as 
 imply an inner though perchance unconscious 
 coUectedness of thought. Our heart's desire for 
 the child is, that in the deepest and most inclu- 
 sive sense of the word he may become a seeing 
 being. We know that such seeing does not ex- 
 clude, but include, feeling ; for seeing and feeling 
 are related to each other, as light and heat. God 
 is at once light and love ; or, rather, he is love, 
 because he is light, and light because he is love. 
 Vision of the whole implies love for the whole. 
 
THE LIGHT-BIRD. 189 
 
 and this loving omniscience, or omniscient love, 
 is our highest definition of the eternal and over- 
 ruling life of God. 
 
 Let us therefore follow with confidence the 
 path we have been treading ; but let our future 
 steps be taken with clearer eyes, with deeper in- 
 sight, with fuller consecration of soul ; for we 
 know now that over this same path we may 
 travel safely through the whole wide realm of 
 child culture. We are sure that we have learned 
 how to foster the creative impulse, and how to 
 fortify and satisfy all the inmost cravings of the 
 soul. 
 
 And now to our little play, with regard to 
 which I must not omit to say that I have found 
 it in all grades of social life. Moreover, it grew 
 up with and in me, for as a small child I saw it 
 played by older members of my family, and as I 
 grew into boyhood I myself played it to the 
 delight of my younger brothers and sisters. 
 
 From the illuminated surface of a mirror we 
 throw upon a shaded wall a flash of light. The 
 same effect may be produced by using, instead of 
 a mirror, the surface of water in a glass or cup. 
 
 The deeper import of The Light-Bird is hinted 
 in the song and motto. Beware, however, of the 
 thought that the import thus suggested is the 
 only one contained in the play. Not only The 
 Light-Bird but all of the plays which precede and 
 follow it have many meanings. Neither must 
 it be supposed that the meaning suggested by 
 me is, if not the sole, at least the highest one. 
 My songs, mottoes, and commentaries are offered 
 
190 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 simply with the hope that they may aid you to 
 recognise and hold fast some part of what you 
 yourself feel while playing these games, and to 
 suggest to you how you may waken correspond- 
 ing feelings in your child. 
 
 " Mother, what has the boy in his hand ?" 
 
 " It is a little looking-glass." 
 
 " What does he want with it ? '" 
 
 " He wants the sun to shine on it." 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Because when the sun shines on the looking- 
 glass it will make a bright spot on the wall, and 
 this will please his little brother." 
 
 " Oh, yes I I see the bright spot. It looks like 
 a little bird." 
 
 " The little brother thinks, as you do, that it 
 looks like a little bird. I do believe he is trying 
 to catch it." 
 
 " Mother, give me a looking-glass ; I want to 
 make a light-bird." 
 
 " Here is a cup of water — it will do just as 
 well ; but be careful not to break it." 
 
 " Mother, see, I can make a bird ! " 
 
 " Why should you not ? " 
 
 "Now, mother, will you make the bird? I 
 want to catch it." 
 
 " Here it is ; catch it, if you can." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! the pretty light-bird won't let 
 itself be caught. When I think I have it under 
 my hand, it shines on top of it." 
 
 "Yes, the light-bird is just 'shine.' You 
 can't catch it. You must not expect to catch 
 everything." 
 
THE LIGHT-BIRD. 191 
 
 " Mother, you can't catch me ! Just try if 
 you can." 
 
 " There ! I have caught you, darling. You 
 must run fast if you don't want to be caught. 
 Now let lis look again at the picture. Do you 
 see the little girl who is playing with her kitten ? 
 She has tied a piece of paper to a string, and 
 dangles it just within reach of kitty's claws. But 
 when kitty tries to catch it she jerks it high in 
 the air." 
 
 "Mother, what are these other children 
 doing?" 
 
 " They are trying to catch butterflies. Two of 
 the little girls have a net ; another girl tries to 
 catch the butterfly with her hand ; and the child 
 who is kneeling thinks she can throw her hand- 
 kerchief over the lovely flying creature. But 
 the butterflies will not let themselves be caught." 
 
 "Mother, I see a little girl standing by the 
 wall. What is she doing ? " 
 
 " Look at her carefully. She has raised her- 
 self on tiptoe as high as she can. She would like 
 to chase butterflies too, but can't get over the 
 wall." 
 
 "Mother, the boy can get over the wall, and 
 so could I. Why doesn't he get quite over ? " 
 
 " He is watching his brother, who has climbed 
 the high ladder you see leaning against the wall. 
 He thought he could catch the little swallow he 
 saw under the eaves. But the swallow has flown 
 away." 
 
 "There are two more little children in the 
 picture, mother. One is standing and the other 
 
192 MOTHEE PLAY. 
 
 is sitting. How still they are! They are not 
 trying to catch, anything." 
 
 " Yes, they, too, want to catch and hold some- 
 thing. Can you guess what it is ? " 
 
 " I can't guess what it is, but please tell me." 
 " Yonder, across the two little lakes, the sun 
 is setting. These children want to catch and 
 keep his beautiful golden rays. Do you think 
 they can, my son ? "' 
 
 " Mother, what are you thinkin g about ? Why, 
 the sun is ever so far off — it is away behind the 
 hill ; and even if it wasn't so far off, the rays are 
 nothing but ' shine ! ' They are just like the light- 
 bird." 
 
 " Yet the children catch them and keep them." 
 " No, no, mother, they can never do that ! " 
 " Yes, dear, they catch them with their eyes 
 and they keep them in their hearts. Don't you 
 remember how father looked when -he said good- 
 bye to you the last time he went away on a 
 trip ? Don't you remember his loving eyes and 
 his dear smile ? You do remember, for you have 
 told me all about it lately. Didn't you seem to 
 see dear father when you asked me if he would 
 soon be home ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother — yes, I see father all the time. 
 Dear, dear father ! "' 
 
XXVIII. 
 THE SHADOW RABBIT. 
 
 The mother culls her child to see 
 A shadow on the wall. 
 
 What is it ? Why, a rabbit, dear- 
 Mouth, eai-3 and feet, and all 1 
 
 The light may lie in splendour on the wall. 
 And yet without man's skill that light is all. 
 The light alone no picture can produce ; 
 Our hands without it are of little use. 
 Together, they can make a picture fine. 
 While baby's eyes with happy wonder shine. 
 
 Now turn we to the lines of deeper thouglit 
 
 With which the baby's picture-show is fraught. 
 
 Let hioi upon the white wall try to throw 
 
 Some shadow whose rude semblance you may know, 
 
 And let him do it often, o'er and o'er, 
 
 Until a thought is born not his before : 
 
 The thought that he creates — and that his will 
 
 Must guide his hand if he would work with skill. 
 
 And when, with pensive love, in years to come. 
 
 His thoughts turn backward to his childhood's home. 
 
 Its scenes so distant trying to recall, 
 
 Perchance he'll see the rabbit on the wall ; 
 
 And to his heart at last will come this word : 
 
 Who would God's comfort find must work with God. 
 
 Even life's shadows beautiful may grow. 
 
 If with Heaven's light we work to make them so. 
 
 Shadow games are everywhere familiar. The 
 manner of playing them has, moreover, been so 
 successfully indicated by our artist that no words 
 193 
 
-=^Ss>-^i^»- 
 
 3)08 ^aad)cn. 
 
 ®er 5mutttr licbc Jpaitb, 
 Waiit '« ^oeii)cn an tie SBanb. 
 
 „®rl)e[lt bo^ i^td)t aud) gletdi tie 
 
 ioeige SCanb, 
 ©0 fontrat bennod) ouf il)r 
 
 teiii Bilb ju ©tonb. 
 Srft Bcnn bea aRenfcfceti ^anb 
 
 mii funftgewanbter Sraft 
 3m ©djcin be« &ijtei ocr bcr 
 
 SBanb fiunftooUES fdiajTt; 
 @r(l bann erfd)eint ein fi^oncg 
 
 Sebjebilb, 
 Sa* 2)eine« jlinbeg Jperj mit 
 
 frof)et Suit crfiiUt, — 
 2)runi lib' im ©piele fd)Dn tc5 
 
 flinbes SBiibnctlraft, 
 D(i6, einll sereinet mit bcJ 
 Sidite« 2)!<idit, 
 
 194 
 
THE SHADOW RABBIT. 195 
 
 of explanation are needed. It goes without say- 
 ing that they exercise the sense of sight, and that, 
 as they are most easily produced by means of 
 artificial light, the best time for playing them is 
 in the evening. Under favouring conditions, 
 good shadow pictures may, however, be produced 
 by using the early morning or late afternoon 
 sunlight. Owing to the great variety of their 
 forms, positions, and movements, these moving 
 shadows never fail to fascinate alike little chil- 
 dren and older boys and girls. The latter are 
 especially delighted when they can make the 
 shadow pictures themselves. 
 
 It is my firm conviction that whatever yields 
 the child a pure and persistent pleasure has at its 
 root some spiritual truth of the highest import. 
 I do not wish to force this conviction upon any 
 other person. I am sure it will harm no one who 
 freely makes it his own. More than this, I believe 
 that its general recognition will result in richly 
 blessing the rising generation, and, indeed, the 
 whole of humanity. 
 
 What causes the rabbit to appear upon the 
 wall ? 
 
 Between the bright light which shines on the 
 smooth, white wall is thrust a dark object, and 
 straightway appears the form which so delights 
 the child. This is the outward fact ; what is the 
 truth which through this fact is dimly hinted to 
 the prophetic mind ? Is it not the creative and 
 transforming power of light, that power which 
 brings form and colour out of chaos, and makes 
 the beauty which gladdens our hearts ? Is it not 
 
196 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 more than this — a foreshadowing, perhaps, of the 
 spiritual fact that our darkest experiences may 
 project themselves in forms that will delight and 
 bless, if in our hearts shines the light of God ? 
 The sternest crags, the most forbidding chasms, 
 are beautiful in the mellow sunshine, while the 
 fairest landscape loses all charm, and indeed 
 ceases to be, when the light which created it is 
 withdrawn. Is it not thus also with our lives ? 
 Yesterday, touched by the light of enthusiastic 
 emotion, all our relationships seemed beauti- 
 ful and blessed ; to-day, when the glow of en- 
 thusiasm has faded, they oppress and repulse us. 
 Only the conviction that it is the darkness within 
 us which makes the darkness without, can restore 
 the lost peace of our souls. Be it therefore, O 
 mother, your sacred duty to make your darling 
 early feel the working both of the outer and 
 inner light. Let him see in one the symbol of 
 the other, and, tracing light and colour to their 
 source in the sun, may he learn to trace the 
 beauty and meaning of his life to their source in 
 (?od. 
 
 The object of this little play is to point out to 
 you how you may give your child some revealing 
 hint of the working both of natural and spiritual 
 light. It gains additional charm when two per- 
 sons, with hands of different sizes, represent at 
 the same time two rabbits differing in size and 
 position. The picture, or rather the group of 
 pictures, is self-explanatory. Nevertheless, your 
 sympathetic word will add more life and mean- 
 
XXIX. 
 
 WOLF AND WILD-PIG. 
 
 The interest a young child gives 
 
 To every animal that lives, 
 
 Dear mother, is an open door 
 
 Through which unbounded good may pour, 
 Filling his mind with knowledge manifold, 
 ( )f Nature's wondrous laws, so now, so old. 
 
 But watch ! lest by this selfsame way 
 
 Into his soul some ill may stray. 
 
 And, while your eyes look other where, 
 
 Make for itself a lodgment there. 
 Watch, and with noble thoughts so fill his mind 
 That passing evil may no shelter find. 
 
 Picture, song, and motto are reciprocally ex- 
 planatory ; hence few words are needed by way 
 of commentary. This shadow picture is made 
 by laying the hands together, palm against palm 
 and finger against finger, and then alternately 
 parting and joining them. The thumbs are so 
 held as to make shadows somewhat resembling 
 ears. It may require practice to produce this 
 picture. In our illustration the hands are too 
 widely open, therefore the shadow is not correct. 
 
 The lower passions are often conspicuously 
 displayed by animals. Hence, if the child's imag- 
 ination is to be kept pure and his delicacy of 
 feeling unimpaired, his curiosity about animals 
 
 197 
 
^^--—^ca 
 
 198 
 
WOLF AND WILD-PIG. 199 
 
 must be hedged and guarded. With children 
 whose nerves have heen overstimulated, it is par- 
 ticularly important to preserve the purity of 
 phantasy, and neither to wound nor blunt the 
 sense of shame. Even when nothing has occurred 
 to make special precaution necessary, it is impor- 
 tant to avoid those careless words which waken 
 premature curiosity and suspicion. Preserving 
 unblemished the purity of his heart, the innocent 
 child will be unscathed by the guiltless phenom- 
 ena of Nature, easily explaining them to himself 
 by the thought that " animals know no better." 
 
 Man, however, is no animal — or, rather, he is 
 more than the animal. Man knows what he does, 
 or, at least, he should know. Even a child should 
 have this knowledge. Therefore, mother, call 
 his attention to the fact that in Nature every 
 creature conforms to the stage of being it has 
 attained, and lives and develops in harmony with 
 the demands of its total environment. An illus- 
 tration of this harmony was given you in my 
 commentary upon The Bird's Nest. Because the 
 life of animals is thus adapted to environment 
 it is healthy and happy. The same is true of the 
 life of plants. Like flower and tree, like beast 
 and bird, the human being should respond to his 
 environment, and be pliant to the demands of 
 each successive stage of development. 
 
 Injudicious interference with the natural pro- 
 cess of development cripples the powers and 
 retards the progress of the soul. On the other 
 hand, each stage of development makes specific 
 claims, which it is fatal to disregard. To awaken 
 
<Sd)mein. 
 
 "S[u« bem flriinen Eidjentcalb, 
 SBo iei mtt>ei aufentiiolt, 
 ©iefc I tommt aui) cut <Sd)n>ein 
 
 bafier, 
 Sfiuft bie treua unb louft bie 
 
 quer, 
 ®ud)t f(d) 9JaI)ruti8 fiit btti 
 
 SJlagctt ! 
 £id)e(ti mulfeii ijm beljnBcn. 
 ^inttr feinen fdjmnlen SBacfcn 
 Jpijrft Du fie en leader fitatfen. 
 Scft fte^t e4 ben aajcr fcm. 
 
 men, 
 ©d)ne[I tiot ea SRetgau* genom^ 
 
 men." 
 
 200 
 
WOLF AND WILD-PIG. 201 
 
 in the child a lively sense of these claims and a 
 desire to meet them, is to fit him for the rounded 
 life born of an all-sided fulfilment of duty. 
 
 To each age is confided something which it 
 alone can cherish. Hence each age has duties 
 from whose performance it may not be released. 
 Childhood forms no exception to this general law. 
 Happy the child who is led, even though uncon- 
 sciously, to act in accordance with its claims. 
 
 Duties are not burdens but privileges. The 
 path of duty leads to light and to all the bless- 
 ings conferred by light. Therefore, each normal 
 and healthy child gladly fulfils duties. Such 
 duties, however, must be genuine, clear, definite, 
 and, above all, inexorable. 
 
 The fulfilment of duty strengthens body and 
 soul. The sense of duty done gives self-reliance. 
 Mother ! father ! observe how happy your child 
 is in the performance of duty, and how he seems 
 to feel himself therein allied to you. Guard these 
 feelings sacredly, for in them are the seeds of 
 blessedness. He who wins inner collectedness, 
 who views his life as a whole, and who respects 
 this wholeness of life in each particular deed, 
 shall find at last the " peace which subsists at the 
 heart of endless agitation." 
 
 15 
 
SHADOW PICTURES. 
 
 Prom Theoretisches und Praktisches Handbuch der Froebel- 
 schen Erziehungslehre. B. von Mannholz Billow. Publisher, 
 Georg H. Wigand, Kassel. 
 
 303 
 
SHADOW PICTURES. 
 
 203 
 
S04 
 
XXX. 
 
 THE LITTLE WINDOW. 
 
 A LITTLE baby seeks the light 
 
 Not with intelligent intent ; 
 
 It is his native element, 
 And heaven-born instinct guides his sight. 
 
 My meaning, mother, can you read i 
 A token this by which we know 
 His soul, too, in the light must grov.'. 
 
 Oh, may God help you meet this need ! 
 
 305 
 
200 
 
XXXI. 
 
 THE WINDOW. 
 
 Sometimes there stirs within a young child's soul 
 
 A dim forecasting, hardly yet a thought, 
 Of his place in the Universal Whole. 
 
 Oh, foster it ! Let it not pass for naught ; 
 Meet every question. Help him still to see 
 
 And trust the inner 'neath the outward show. 
 Teach him that things apart in space may be 
 
 United in his thought. Help him to know 
 That to the heart attent all things may speak. 
 
 So shall he, listening, learn to understand ; 
 And all the clinging mists at length shall break. 
 
 And joyfully he'll live as God has plaimed. 
 
 THE TWO WINDOWS. 
 
 The two Window plays originated in my mind 
 as a response to the suggestion thrown out "by 
 children in their fondness for peeping at light 
 through a pinhole, through the opening made 
 by laying the slightly parted fingers of one hand 
 across the slightly parted fingers of the other 
 hand, or through any very small inclosed space. 
 I seemed to recognise in this phenomenon a sym- 
 bolic import. In order that spiritual light may 
 not merely dazzle, it must at first enter the heart 
 and mind, as it were, through chinks. Only as 
 the spiritual eye gains strength can it bear the 
 fuller blaze of truth. 
 
 By studying the pictures which illustrate 
 207 
 
208 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 these two plays you may easily learn the man- 
 ner of playing them. It is self-evident that they 
 may be played either by daylight or by lamp- 
 light. 
 
 The Window plays are counterparts to the 
 Shadow plays. The aim of the Shadow plays is 
 to suggest how we may avoid wakening the 
 child's lower instincts. The aim of the Window 
 plays is to rouse and quicken his sympathy for 
 what is high and noble. 
 
 In the commentaries to the Tick-tack and 
 the Fishes, I urged you, dear mother, to culti- 
 vate in your child a love for all that is clean 
 and pure and clear. Let me now entreat you 
 to cherish and foster his delight in all that 
 is shining, transparent, luminous, and illumi- 
 nating. 
 
 Observe the absorption of yonder little chil- 
 dren in the beloved phenomena of light. What 
 should more quickly attract and more strongly 
 rivet the child's attention than that which is 
 luminous and ilhiminating ? He inhales the light 
 as he inhales the air. Light is the atmosphere of 
 the soul. Purity of heart is the illuminated sum- 
 mit of character, which wise men discern and 
 wiser men achieve. Mother, exercise your child's 
 strength that he may have power to climb this 
 height. Father, reach him from above your 
 helping hand. 
 
 "Mother, why does the little boy who is 
 standing in the window look so serious ? " 
 
 " He is watching the lovely colours which the 
 sunlight makes in the water." 
 
THE TWO WINDOWS. 209 
 
 " Mother, father, come here ! Come quickly ! 
 See, sister has set a glass of clean water in the 
 window ! Look at the beautiful bright-coloured 
 circles and rays ! • They are just like the rainbow 
 and the dewdrops. Oh, mother, how pretty they 
 are! The colours play with each other when 
 sister moves the glass, just as you play ' catch ' 
 with us." 
 
 As the child rejoices in this play of colour, the 
 noble man rejoices in that "rainbow flowering" 
 of the soul which' is the rich reward of a wise and 
 tender spiritual nurture. Mother, see to it that 
 the youth and maiden enshrine and preserve the 
 pure visions of childhood. 
 
 " But why is the little boy crying ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! He has carelessly broken the 
 bright glass in the window, and now, if he 
 doesn't want to shut the light out of the room 
 with a board or piece of paper, he must go 
 to the glazier, who lives a long way off, and 
 ask him to put in a new pane. Sometimes we 
 are like this little boy : we do something which 
 keeps light from getting into our hearts. Then, 
 what a sad time we have in the dark, and how 
 much trouble we have to take before we can 
 get the light again! But do you see the little 
 girl in the picture, who has opened the door 
 so that light may get into the dark cellar ? Be 
 like her, darling : open all the doors and win- 
 dows of your heart to the dear light; then 
 everything within will be clear, and everything 
 without will be fair. The world will be all 
 beautiful to you, as it is to the little boy who 
 
210 MOTHER PLAT. 
 
 stands in Ms motlier's lap, watching for the 
 coming of the sun. The baby the other mother 
 has in her arms loves to look at the sun too. 
 The little boy who is pointing towards the win- 
 dow says to his sister, " Come, let us ask mother 
 if we may go for a while into the garden ; it 
 is so lovely out of doors." "Yes, children," 
 answers the mother, " you may go ; and be sure 
 to try to be like the shining, kindly light which 
 makes all this loveliness." 
 
XXXII. 
 
 THE CHARCOAL-BORNEK. 
 
 That smallest seeming causes power may wield — 
 That firmest matter to man's strength must yield — 
 That under aspect mean great good may hide — 
 In your child's mind plant these truths side by aide. 
 
 The picture shows the position of the hands. 
 The wrist rests upon some object (e. g., a table) 
 which represents the ground. 
 
 We have recognised the eye as a mediator be- 
 tween man's inner being and the spiritual world. 
 Conversely, the hand mediates man's inner being 
 and the material world. Furthermore, it medi- 
 ates the objects of sense-perception and the 
 higher forms of thought. This mediatorial func- 
 tion of the hand is not confined to mature life. 
 It is active and effective even within the narrow 
 limits of childish play. 
 
 Man has but two hands and two times four 
 fingers. The fingers of each hand correspond 
 with those of the other. The two thumbs, set 
 opposite to each other, act as a mole or dam to 
 the fingers. Such is the instrument with which 
 so many things may be done — with which, to the 
 delight of the child, so many objects may be 
 represented. 
 
 211 
 
812 
 
THE CHARCOAL-BURNER. 213 
 
 By using his hands, the child learns how 
 much may be done with the few things within 
 his grasp, or, in other words, how much he may 
 accomplish without reaching beyond the narrow 
 boundaries of his own little life. That English- 
 man was perfectly right who wrote a whole book 
 to prove that the hand is a witness of God's 
 fatherly love and goodness.* Mother, seek to 
 form in your child the habit of looking at his 
 hand from this point of view, in order that he 
 may never injure either it or himself by its mis- 
 use, but may through productive and creative 
 activity rise into the image of God. 
 
 And as you teach your child to respect his 
 own hand, teach him also to respect those who 
 work with their hands. Waken his gratitude 
 towards, and consideration for, those through 
 whose labour he is blessed with food, clothing, 
 and shelter. Teach him to honour each "toil- 
 worn craftsman," however humble his calling, 
 who wards off danger from individuals and com- 
 munities, and whose labour directly furthers the 
 w'elfare of mankind. 
 
 Without the charcoal burner, where were 
 most of our technical arts ? Without his patient 
 labour, where were those chemical researches 
 
 * The book to which Proebel refers is presumably The 
 Hand : Its Mechanism and Vital Endowments, as evincing 
 Design, and Illustrating the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of 
 God, by Sir Charles Bell. Published as one of the Bridgewater 
 Treatises, 1832 ; ninth edition, 1874 (George Bell & Sons, Covent 
 Garden). (Prom Miss Lord's note to this commentary.) 
 
214 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 which have solved so many of the secrets of 
 Nature ? * 
 
 * At the close of his commentary on this game, Proebel sug- 
 gests that older children be told how charcoal burners saved 
 little German princes from death, or from a captivity worse 
 than death. From Miss Lord's notes to the Mother Play I 
 borrow the following account of the story which Proebel had in 
 mind : 
 
 ■' Frederick, Elector of Saxony, had two sons. Always at 
 war, his enemies at length sent Kunz von Kauffingen with other 
 soldiers to the Castle of Altenburg, July ?, 14.55, to carry the 
 two boys away. Kunz went off with Albert, Mosen with Ernest. 
 Kunz neared the Bohemian border by noon on July 8th, but, as 
 Albert was thirsty, stopped to pick bilberries in the wood. A 
 charcoal burner suddenly appeared, and at once guessed this 
 was the boy about whom alarm-bells were ringing throughout 
 Saxony. He fought Kunz with his long poking pole (Schiir- 
 baum) till help came, or, as he expressed it to the Electress, 
 when she thanked him, " Hab ihn weidlich getrillt " ; and he is 
 called merely " Triller '' in the legal documents conveying to 
 him and his heirs rights in the Saxon forest for ever. This 
 Albert is ancestor of the present Saxon house. Prince Ernest 
 was rescued on July 11th. Twelfth in direct descent from him 
 was Albert, the late Prince Consort ; the Prince of Wales is thus 
 thirteenth. 
 
 " See (brief account) Aunt Charlotte's Stories of German 
 History, by Charlotte M. Yonge (Marcus Ward, 1878), p. 182; 
 (most lively account) Thomas Carlyle (Works) an essay, The 
 Prinzenraub : A Glimpse of Saxon History, in the Westminster 
 Review, January, 1855." 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. 
 
 How many things can love invent 
 
 To catch a baby's sight ! 
 Now see his mother, with her hands 
 Making a carpenter who stands 
 
 Working with all his might. 
 
 In mother's arms is baby's school, 
 
 His books these little plays ; 
 Within each one she leads his mind 
 The germ of some great thought to find. 
 
 And treasure all his days. 
 
 The successive gestures in this play are dif- 
 ficult to describe. They should be seen in order 
 to be understood. However^ I will explain them 
 as clearly as possible. 
 
 The position of the hands, with which the rep- 
 resentations begin, resembles that which made the 
 charcoal-burner's hut. The hands are, however, 
 held more freely. The tips of the little fingers, 
 ring fingers, and middle fingers meet. The fore- 
 fingers are free. The forefinger of the left hand 
 represents a tree. The forefinger of the right 
 hand is a woodman. A sawing movement indi- 
 cates that he is felling the tree. When this move- 
 ment has been made several times the tree is sup- 
 posed to have fallen, and the left forefinger is 
 held in a horizontal position with its tip touching 
 215 
 
®or 3immctmann. 
 
 SZoi Sifte jum fiinte toil a\ici n- 
 
 fanil ! 
 Sc^t fef)t ibr gflr, irie etneii ^xmmtX' 
 
 mil mi 
 Siirii) ^aiib imb ginger gcftolten |lc 
 
 flllUU 
 
 „SI!a« tamer son SInbcrn tern fiinbe 
 
 gcW)ie()t, 
 Gill ffitip(i« geniii ti im fiinbe ef 
 
 iicit ; 
 D'rum fud)' ee biitc^ bilt-IiiieS 
 1)cuten 
 
 SBom SinnliJjen 
 
 ivm toinnigcn 
 
 ^iniit'cr mit jtlar^eit ju teiten." 
 
 316 
 
THE CARPENTER. 217 
 
 the knuckle or base of the right forefinger. The 
 now hent forefinger of the right hand first indi- 
 cates by a chopping movement that the woodman 
 is hacking the trunk from the stump ; then, by a 
 sawing movement, that he is cutting it into logs 
 of different lengths. The position of the hands 
 which represents the house is clearly shown in 
 the drawing, wherein gable, window, and street 
 door may be easily recognised. The door has, 
 however, been made rather too small. 
 
 By cleanliness of body, by neat and suitable 
 apparel, and by the development and right use 
 of his physical and mental powers, each member 
 of a family contributes to the activity and happi- 
 ness of its corporate life. In like manner, the 
 house should contribute by its plan, structure, 
 and furniture to the ease with which all domestic 
 duties may be fulfilled. What the skin is to the 
 body, the house is to the family, whose life it 
 environs, protects, and within certain limits de- 
 termines. Can we exaggerate the influence of a 
 wisely planned and well-ordered house, either 
 upon the health, the comfort, or the happiness of 
 its inmates ? May it be that children love to build 
 little ho\ises because they have a presentiment 
 that the house shelters and nurtures that fam- 
 ily life which is the high and holy exemplar of 
 corporate living ? Doubt not that all that is 
 serious and significant in the life of humanity 
 thrills as premonitions in the breast of the child. 
 Unfortunately, he does not understand his own 
 obscure feelings. Even less, alas, are they under- 
 stood and fostered by those who surround him ! 
 16 
 
218 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 What a difference it would make to childhood, to 
 youth, to humanity, in all stages of development 
 and in all relationships, if these prescient stirrings 
 of the soul were nurtured, strengthened, devel- 
 oped, and finally lifted into the clear light of 
 consciousness ! 
 
 The priceless blessing of a happy home can be 
 won only by struggle, endurance, and self-sacri- 
 fice. Is some prophetic sense of this truth stir- 
 ring the pulses of the little lad in our picture ? 
 Is this why he is letting himself be sawed as if 
 he were a tree ? 
 
 And the two dear little sisters sitting so 
 thoughtfully by the house they have built — are 
 their hearts illuminated by a foregleam of the 
 sanctity of the home ? 
 
 What may not the little heads be thinking, 
 the little hearts feeling ? 
 
 Thus much at least the young child realizes — 
 that it is pleasant to have a pretty, cosy home. 
 Perhaps, too, within the depths of feeling may 
 float an unconscious faith that from such a home 
 stream the meaning, the sanctity, the blessedness 
 of life. 
 
 The mother who sits below on the left seems 
 to be trying to impress upon her child that he 
 shoiild respect the carpenter and his labour. 
 "Where," she asks, "could mother live, where 
 could baby live, were it not for the kind carpen- 
 ter who builds them a house ? " 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 THE BRIDGE. 
 
 Let your child build mimic bridges 
 
 As his hands move to and fro ; 
 Germs of thought are being planted 
 
 Which in after years will grow. 
 
 Face to face, but never meeting, 
 
 Trown the river's ancient walls ; 
 To the far divine, the human 
 
 Through the ages faintly calls. 
 
 Banks are fixed, but man can join them. 
 Conquering stubborn space with skill ; 
 
 And despite life's contradictions. 
 Love at last learns God's dear will. 
 
 The Bridge is produced by a slight modifica- 
 tion of the House, or of the Charcoal-burner's Hut. 
 The two thumbs make the piers, the finger-tips 
 of the right and left hands meet to form the 
 bridge. The tip of one middle finger is placed 
 under that of the other. 
 
 To find or create a bond of union between 
 seemingly opposed and even antagonistic objects 
 is always a beneficent and rewarding deed. 
 Mother, be it your care to afford your child early 
 and recurrent experiences of this truth. No one 
 feels more deeply than you the bitter pain born 
 of apparently insoluble contradictions, or the joy 
 which springs out of unhoped-for reconciliations. 
 219 
 
230 
 
THE BRIDGE. 221 
 
 Through such reconciliations the peace of heaven 
 descends into human hearts and homes. 
 
 Family and home are themselves a mediation 
 of opposites, a reconciliation of contrasts. They 
 bridge that deepest of all chasms which sepa- 
 rates earth from heaven. Teach your child, there- 
 fore, to recognise the inner in the outer ; to dis- 
 cern in the house the symhol and safeguard of 
 family life ; to revere in him who creates the 
 visible sign a type'of Him who confers the spirit- 
 ual blessing. In a word, make his gratitude 
 towards the carpenter a point of departure for 
 wakening his gratitude towards Him who sent 
 the carpenter's son to live on earth, in order that 
 the sternest contradictions of life might be solved 
 and the abodes of men become homes of peace 
 and joy and divine indwelling. 
 
 With this ideal in mind, lead your child to 
 build, in play, the reconciling bridge, and thus 
 through a uniting deed to gain his first forebod- 
 ing of the truth that in himself and through his 
 own self-activity he must find the solution of all 
 contradictions, the mediation of all apparently 
 irreconcilable opposition. Show him this truth 
 again in your own life, and, above all, in the 
 mediatorial life and teaching of Him who on 
 earth was the carpenter's son. So shall the vis- 
 ible bridge which the child carpenter builds be 
 one link in the chain of experience by which he 
 spans the gulf between things seen and things 
 unseen, and learns to recognise in the carpenter's 
 son the beloved Son of God, the All-Father, and 
 the Mediator between him and man. 
 
333 
 
XXXV. 
 
 THE FARMYARD GATE. 
 
 Dear mother, try in all your baby's plays 
 
 To sow some little seed for later days. 
 
 If for his pets he learns a tender care, 
 
 The planted thought unlooked-for fruit may bear. 
 
 An impulse given, in widening circles moves : 
 
 He'll learn, ere long, to cherish all he loves. 
 
 Your gentle words he may not seem to heed. 
 But they shall live to serve him in his need ; 
 They float now on the surface of his mind. 
 But by-and-bye they shall safe harbour find ! 
 " My mother's words !" he to his heart shall say, 
 " Oh, fold them in your tenderest depths away." 
 323 
 
THE TWO GATES. 225 
 
 THE TWO GATES. 
 
 The position of the hands which represents 
 the Garden Gate is more accurately pictured than 
 the position which represents the Farmyard Gate. 
 Even the former picture, however, is defective, 
 for the hands should be somewhat differently in- 
 clined in order to suggest a gate. 
 
 Each of these little games embodies an im- 
 portant thought. The idea suggested in the Farm- 
 yard Gate is that the child should be taught to 
 prize and protect what he has acquired. The 
 thought illustrated in the Garden Gate is that he 
 should be led to recognise and name the different 
 objects in his environment. 
 
 In your attempt to carry out the latter idea 
 be careful to begin with the things which the 
 child sees around him in the house, the yard, the 
 garden, and the meadow. From these advance 
 to the naming of objects in the pasture and the 
 wood. 
 
 Teach your child not only to recognise and 
 name objects, but also to recognise and name 
 qualities. Direct his attention both to the 
 characteristic activities of things and to their 
 characteristic states and conditions. Have you 
 not noticed how such experiences attract and 
 delight him ? Do you not know that at a cer- 
 tain stage of development he finds or invents, as 
 if by magic, words expressive both of active and 
 passive qualities ? With what delight he dis- 
 tinguishes what is smooth, woolly, hairy, spark- 
 
226 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 ling, round! With what eagerness lie notices 
 and names such activities as rolling, creeping, 
 hopping ! With what almost miraculous ease he 
 seizes and unites precept, concept, and name ! 
 
 Obey the hint thrown out by the child. Pre- 
 serve and cherish his tendency to notice and 
 name objects and their attributes. For as through 
 disuse a magnet becomes rusty and loses its 
 power, so the mind loses capacities which are not 
 sufficiently and increasingly exercised. 
 
 The precious wine in a broken glass must be 
 enjoyed at once or lost forever. So, power not 
 instantly exercised is wasted, and effort which 
 finds no corresponding object weakens and dies. 
 
 In flowers alone how many qualities there are 
 which it interests the child to discover and name ! 
 He loves to distinguish motley coloured from 
 simply coloured blossoms ; delicate and tender 
 hues from brilliant ones. He gladly notices the 
 forms of flowers, and identifies them as round, 
 bell-shaped, star-shaped, wheel-shaped, funnel- 
 shaped. He is attracted by the different kinds 
 of inflorescence, and observes with pleasure that 
 some flowers grow singly, some in pairs, some 
 in bunches or heads, while some spread out 
 like umbrellas. But why go into more detail ? 
 Use your own eyes. Help your child to use his. 
 He will quickly learn or find names for all that 
 he really perceives. Waste not the fleeting mo- 
 ments. In them germinates the seed which shall 
 one day grow into a great tree of life — a tree 
 which will comfort you with its shade and refresh 
 you with its fruit. 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 If to a child's sole care is left 
 Something which, of that care bereft, 
 
 Would quickly pine and fade, 
 The joy of nurture he will learn ; 
 A rich experience, which will turn 
 
 Hia inner life to aid. 
 
 Mother, fold the fingers of your left hand so 
 that they somewhat resemhle a flower (e. g., the 
 bud of a lily). With the fingers of your right 
 hand make a watering can. Let your thumb 
 represent the spout. Go through the movement 
 of watering a flower, and while doing so gradu- 
 ally open the fingers of your left hand to simulate 
 the unfolding of a bud into a blossom. 
 
 When you have made these movements a few 
 times in the presence of your child he will begin 
 to imitate you, for whatever mother love does a 
 child gladly repeats. This imitative activity 
 should be carefully cultivated. Eightly directed, 
 it will lighten by more than half the work of 
 education. Utilised at the proper stage of de- 
 velopment, it will enable you to accomplish by a 
 touch light as a feather what later you cannot 
 do with a hundredweight of words. Believe that 
 I am right before I am justified by painful expe- 
 237 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 229 
 
 rience ; otherwise insight will only feed your self- 
 reproach. 
 
 But we must not forget our little gardeners, 
 for one of the fairest and most instructive mani- 
 festations of child life is love of " gardening." 
 
 Cherish! Nurture! Care for! These, dear 
 mother, are words which we have had occasion 
 to repeat many times in our communings with 
 each other, and in our common attention to and 
 participation in child life. Great must be, great 
 assuredly is, their importance to the development 
 of our darlings. Answer me but one question : 
 What is the supreme gift you would bestow on 
 the children who are the life of your life, the soul 
 of your soul ? Would you not above all other 
 things render them capable of giving nurture ? 
 Would you not endow them with the courage 
 and constancy which the ability to give nurture 
 implies ? Mother, father, has not our common 
 effort been directed towards just this end ? Have 
 we not been trying to break a path towards this 
 blessed life ? Has not our inmost longing been 
 to capacitate our children for this inexpressible 
 privilege ? Assuredly this is what we have been 
 trying to do — what we are doing even now through 
 our little Garden play. And because you, dear 
 parents, are planting the love of nurture in the 
 breasts of your children, you may securely hope 
 that they will lovingly and gratefully cherish you 
 in age.* 
 
 * Here I omit a line. Proebel says : " You will be cherished 
 by your grateful children, just as yonder boy is bestowing a 
 gift upon the old man he scarcely knows.'' 
 
230 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 To give wise care, we must consider time and 
 place. Thus all plants cannot bear to be watered 
 directly on their roots. This is particiilarly the 
 case with lilies, which easily rot if it is done. 
 
 The little gardener in our picture says to us 
 by her thoughtful mien, " In giving care, re- 
 spect place."' In like manner, the swiftly turning 
 weather vane on the top of the garden house 
 which commands so wide a view, says, " Consider 
 time.'' 
 
 Watering in the hot noonday does plants harm 
 instead of good, for the tired leaves have no 
 strength to utilise the kindly shower. 
 
 In the sunlit garden, 
 
 Through the glad spring day, 
 
 Watch the happy little folks 
 Turning work to play. 
 
 Guarding, watering, tending, 
 
 With such pretty zeal, 
 Doing from their little hearts, 
 
 As if the flowers could feel. 
 
 Such work does not tire them, 
 
 For they love it so ; 
 And are thanked in measure full, 
 
 If the flowers grow. 
 
 Dear little children, we will learn from you; 
 
 Gardens we'll make, and you the flowers shall be; 
 
 Our cai-e shall seem no tedious drudgery — 
 Only a happy trust that's ever new. 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 231 
 
 We'll guard you from the great world's strife and din ; 
 But, ah, our chiefest, gladdest care shall he 
 To give you your own selves! to help you see 
 
 The meaning of each opening power within. 
 
 Oh, blessed thought, that God to us has given 
 The finishing of that whicli he has planned; 
 And as we help your young souls to expand, 
 
 Our own, in the sweet task, shall grow toward heaven. 
 
232 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 THE WHEELWRIGHT. 
 
 Why will a child desert his play 
 
 The craftsman's work to see ? 
 Something within him, latent still, 
 Stirs at each stroke of strength or skill, 
 
 Whisp'ring, " Work waits for me ! " 
 
 The hands held in a vertical position, with the 
 fingers closed, move horizontally as though de- 
 scribing semicircles, thus simulating the action 
 of a wheelwright who is boring a hole. 
 
 At the words " Round it goes ! " the movement 
 is changed, and the two fists go round and round 
 each other like a rolling wheel. 
 
 Said the wise man, " Thou art a man, there- 
 fore let nothing which concerns man be indiffer- 
 ent to thee." Here, as in many other cases, the 
 practice of the simple child conforms to the in- 
 sight of the sage. He is interested in everything 
 done by grown-up people. The activities of 
 handicraftsmen in particular attract his atten- 
 tion. We have already seen how important is 
 the hand, how important are the products of the 
 hand. Therefore, mother, foster and encourage 
 your child's interest in watching the works of 
 the skilled labourer, and find in it a "point of 
 departure " for the development of his own pro- 
 17 233 
 
234 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 ductive power. Raise his pleasure in seeing 
 work to pleasure in doing work, in order that 
 later he may lead the truly human life of creative 
 activity ; for upon the thoughtfully creative life 
 is bestowed the guerdon, of peace and joy. 
 
 My little play of The Wheelwright is a means 
 towards this end. The illustration accompany- 
 ing it is freighted with rich suggestions. Every 
 essential use of the wheel, so far as it relates to 
 vehicles, is indicated, and from the wheel of the 
 child's barrow we rise to the wheel in the chariot 
 of the gods. Surely our artist wishes to impress 
 upon us the importance of the wheel in all de- 
 partments of life. What would become of the 
 human race, in the stage of civilisation it has 
 now attained, if it were forced to dispense with 
 the wheel ? Need we wonder, therefore, that 
 everything in the likeness of a wheel so attracts 
 the child?* 
 
 A knowledge of the qualitiers and uses of the 
 wheel is likewise important because of its ana- 
 logical implications. It is also well that the 
 child should be familiar with objects allied to 
 the wheel in form, such as the hoop, the circle, 
 the wreath. Wishing to stir our soixls with some 
 sense of the spiritual significance of the circular 
 
 * Here I omit a passage in which Fruebel plays upon the Ger- 
 man words Rad = a wheel and Rath, advice, contrasting the dif- 
 ficult motion which, in the ease of the wheel, is produced by a 
 slight momentum, with the reluctance of youth to follow the 
 advice of maturity, and suggesting that by noticing the former 
 the child may be incited to a more ready compliance with the 
 latter. 
 
THE WHEELWRIGHT. 235 
 
 form, our artist shows us two boys who, bowling 
 their hoops around a circle in opposite directions, 
 are nevertheless sure in the end to come, though 
 perhaps unexpectedly, and even unwillingly, to 
 the same spot. Is he teaching us that all the 
 different paths of life are bent by the Higher 
 Power towards one common goal ? 
 
 But why does our picture point us to the 
 mythical age of gods and heroes ? The true 
 artist does nothing by chance. It seems to me 
 he is trying to tell us that by loyal attention and 
 response to the hints thrown out by childhood, 
 and by an education consonant with the needs of 
 childhood, we may revive the mythic period of 
 human history, with its dross cleansed, its dark- 
 ness illumined, its aims and ideals purified. 
 
 Shall we scorn the artist's fancies ? Shall we 
 scout his hopes that they may be realised ? 
 
as6 
 
XXXVIII. 
 
 THE JOINER. 
 
 Each thing around us speaks 
 A language all its own. 
 And though we may have grown 
 Hardened and dull of ear, 
 The little children hear. 
 
 But, ah, they cannot know 
 How blest such hearing is, 
 Until, alas, it fljes ! 
 Then let us help them keep 
 The gift whose loss we weep. 
 
 In this game the fists, by a sliding movement 
 over a flat surface, represent the act of planing. 
 The strokes should be sometimes long and- some- 
 times short. 
 
 To what truths does this simple game point ? 
 What is its inner sense ? What relationship has 
 it to life ? 
 
 Through the play of The Finger Piano the 
 child's attention was directed to the connection 
 between tone, movement, and number, or, in a 
 word, to the characteristic phenomena of sound 
 included under the general form of time. But 
 sound is connected also with the phenomena of 
 space, for if any material substance be stretched 
 to a great length its tone is deep ; while, on the 
 other hand, if the length stretched be short and 
 thin, the tone will be high. The concepts long 
 and short are therefore mediatorial between the 
 phenomena of space and those of time. 
 237 
 
238 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 That these concepts have likewise important 
 bearings upon child life is self-evident. How 
 often, for example, must you say to your little 
 ones : " You may stay out of doors, but not too 
 long." " You must work now, but only for a 
 short time," etc. 
 
 As the play of The Fishes gave you occasion 
 to suggest both the literal and analogical mean- 
 ings of straight and crooked, so the play of The 
 Joiner offers a point of departure for the evolu- 
 tion of the literal and analogical meanings of 
 long and short. As the picture accompanying the 
 former play gave varied illustrations of straight 
 and crooked, so the picture of The Joiner gives 
 varied illustrations of long and short. It will de- 
 light your child to seek these different illustra- 
 tions and discover their contrasts and connections. 
 
 The goal of this play is the discovery that 
 outward size does not presuppose inward great- 
 ness. The contrast between the great giant Go- 
 liath and the stripling David suggests to the 
 imagination an inverse ratio between the phys- 
 ically and spiritually great. Hence the former is 
 in the child world a comic character, while with 
 dear little David each embryo hero feels the 
 keenest sympathj''.* 
 
 * Proebel closes this commentary by quoting two lines of a 
 little poem probably familiar to most of his German readers : 
 " Giant Goliath was once alive, 
 A vi'iy dangerous man." 
 
 This poem was written by Matthias Claudius (1740-1815), and 
 printed in the Wandsbecker Bote, a periodical published about a 
 hundred years ago in Holstein. (Miss Lord's note.) 
 
XXXIX. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS AND THE GOOD CHILD. 
 
 The truth that no life stands alone, 
 
 Lies hid in baby's soul ; 
 Long ere he learns its pain and strife, 
 He feels th' encircling touch of life, 
 
 And yields to its control. 
 
 But, mother, when the love of praise 
 
 First stirs a wistful thought — 
 When disapproval gives him pain — 
 His little life has reached a plane 
 
 With subtlest danger fraught. 
 
 Oh, guide him with a love clear-eyed. 
 
 That he may not confuse 
 Merit with praise ! Help him to care 
 Rather to be than to appear. 
 
 E'en though the praise he lose.* 
 
 So shall the touch of other lives 
 
 Help and uplift his own. 
 Strong in himself he'll learn to be, 
 Yet glad that human sympathy 
 
 May bind all hearts in one. 
 
 Your child sits in your lap. Your left arm is 
 thrown gently around him. The fingers of your 
 right hand (beginning with the little finger and 
 going towards the thumb) trot or gallop one after 
 the other, first towards the child and then away 
 
 "= This stanza does not render Proebel's exact thought. See 
 prose translation in appendix.-r-PB. 
 239 
 
240 
 
THE KNIGHTS AND THE GOOD CHILD. 241 
 
 from him. These advancing and retiring fingers 
 simulate the approach, arrival, and departure of 
 mounted knights. 
 
 With this song and those which follow it we 
 rise to a new and higher plane of development. 
 What has hitherto been done to fashion the will 
 and build the character has been incidental — as 
 it were, a thing aside. What is now to be done 
 must be with clear intention and deliberate aim. 
 
 The mounted knight expresses free self-de- 
 termination, free mastery of the will. Through 
 his control of his steed he also presents sym- 
 bolically the mastery of the rude powers of Na- 
 ture. Hence, in the prescient phantasy of child- 
 hood the knight stands out a clear-cut image of 
 ideal freedom and beauty. 
 
 Since the knight is thus in a certain sense the 
 embodied ideal of childhood, boy and girl alike 
 will value what he values and strive to be the 
 thing he commends. In this relationship of child- 
 hood to the ideal knight or hero are rooted this 
 little play and its two immediate successors. 
 
 The motto to this song warns us that we have 
 risen to a new plane of development, and that 
 upon this higher level we are confronted by great 
 dangers. The child has discriminated between 
 himself and another [an ideal self], hence he 
 measures, weighs, compares. His power of dis- 
 crimination is, however, feeble, therefore he is 
 prone to confound what he may become with 
 what he is, and to believe himself already the 
 thing he would like to be. This confusion of the 
 ideal and the actual is heightened by our own 
 
242 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 thoughtless folly, for, seeing in the child some 
 leaning towards the good, loving him for some 
 budding promise of character, we treat him as if 
 his possible achievement were a present reality, 
 and thus feed his vanity and relax his will. Let 
 us be clear with ourselves on this point, for too 
 often our own confusion of the real and the po- 
 tential works permanent injury to the children 
 committed to our care. 
 
 Through the attitude of others towards him- 
 self the recognition of what is good should be 
 awakened in the child, and his desire to be good 
 should be strengthened and developed. Evident- 
 ly this result will be attained only if he under- 
 stands that he must be good in order to be re- 
 spected and loved. Therefore, mother, let j^our 
 behaviour be such that your darling may early 
 realise that your approval is given not to his visi- 
 ble, small person, nor to his visible deeds, but to 
 his true self — that you care for him for his soul's 
 sake, and that your love is fed by actions which 
 express his inner life and aspiration. Let him 
 understand, too, that you love him not only for 
 what he is, but for what you hope he will grow 
 to be, and that whenever he lessens your hope he 
 attacks your affection. 
 
 These thoughts seem to me so important that 
 I will restate them. When your child begins to 
 be attentive to the judgment of others concern- 
 ing himself, you must solve a double problem. 
 First, you must clearly discriminate what he is 
 from what he may become, and through your 
 conduct towards him must make him aware of 
 
THE KNIGHTS AND THE GOOD CHILD. 243 
 
 this distinction. Second, you must clearly dis- 
 criminate between his visible actions and their 
 inner grounds or motives, otherwise you will fos- 
 ter in him a false conception of his own individu- 
 ality. The distinction of the ideal and potential 
 from the real — the distinction of the inner motive' 
 from the visible act — these are cardinal points of 
 the moral life. Upon his success or failure to ap- 
 prehend them it will depend whether your child 
 lives and strives for being or appearance, for 
 what is seen and temporal or for what is unseen 
 and eternal. During the periods of infancy and 
 early childhood it is in your power to give direc- 
 tion to his aspiration. The stream of his life is 
 then but a tiny rill whose channel may be turned 
 at pleasure. Later it will become a flood whose 
 course is beyond all control. 
 
 One more point must be mentioned. The 
 child is incited towards pursuit of the good, not 
 only or even chiefly by the recognition accorded 
 himself, but by the respect, consideration, and 
 honour shown to the good in others. Every dis- 
 tinction bestowed upon another — which seems to 
 the child a merited distinction — rouses him to 
 emulation, spurs him to effort. 
 
 " Wliat was the song that the brave knights sang ? 
 
 I wish I could hear it too ! " 
 ''Then, darling, sit quietly here in my lap, 
 
 And I will sing it to you." 
 
244 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Come, children, and hear the song that we sing- — 
 
 The song of a child who is good : 
 We saw him to-day, as we rode on our way 
 
 Through valley and meadow and wood. 
 
 Like a flower in its calyx he seemed to our eyes, 
 As his mother's arms folded him round; 
 
 But better by far than a hundred flowers are 
 Was this good little child that we found. 
 
 He built us a nice little house with his blocks; 
 
 He ran, with a step strong and free, 
 To pick up what fell, and restore it as well. 
 
 To the owner whoever he be. 
 
 We thought that the angels had taught him to play. 
 
 All his plays were so hax)py and true; 
 But we learned in a while that his dear mother's smile 
 
 Was the only angel he knew. 
 
 Her gentle caresses were dearer to him 
 
 Than aught else below or above, 
 And all that he had he was eager and glad 
 
 To give her as proof of his love. 
 
 No pleasure was full till he shared it with her. 
 And at last, when the long day was done. 
 
 And he sat on her lap, safe from harm or mishap, 
 He told of his plays one by one. 
 
 Then she sang to him softly until his eyes closed, 
 And his pretty head sank on her breast; 
 
 Then laid him, instead, in his own little bed, 
 As warm as a bird in its nest. 
 
THE KNIGHTS AND THE GOOD CHILD. 245 
 
 With tenderest touch the covers she spread, 
 
 And whispered a prayer the while. 
 No song did we hear, but angels were near, 
 
 We knew by the baby's sweet smile. 
 
 " Oh the song was so pretty — but I too am tired." 
 " Then lay your head here on my arm 
 
 And sleep sweetly, dear, for mamma is near. 
 To shelter her baby from harm." * 
 
 * Henrietta R. Eliot. 
 
xxxzw 
 
 346 
 
XL. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS AND THE BAD CHILD. 
 
 E'en as a magnet, goodness draws the good ; 
 A magnet does not plot, in scheming mood ; 
 
 It simply is, and so attracts. 
 Oh, help your child to feel this in his heart : 
 Evil repels, but goodness without art. 
 
 Still, but resistless, like a magnet acts ! 
 
 On its external side this game resembles its 
 predecessor. 
 
 When little children are cross and sulky we 
 often try to divert them by attracting their at- 
 tention to something that is noisy and even 
 deafening. This practice rarely attains its end. 
 Nevertheless, there is an element of truth in the 
 impulse out of which it springs, and it fails of its 
 end just because it does not clearly recognise 
 this latent truth or comply with its demands. 
 
 Discontent, crossness, and sulkiness, when not 
 due to bodily ailment, are often caused by some 
 excessive and one-sided excitement of the feelings 
 — an excitement which, just because it is one- 
 sided, renders the child powerless to free himself 
 from it by his own effort. The little victim, who 
 cannot help himself, and who is keenly suffering 
 from his bad temper, needs all the help a wise 
 and tender nurture can give. The best way to 
 help him is to attract his glance quickly to some 
 347 
 
248 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 unexpected object whose appearance is likely to 
 allure and hold his attention. This object should 
 not be a noisy one, for noise will tend only to 
 augment his nervous excitement. It should, 
 however, be something which is unexpected, sur- 
 prising, and impressive. I have seen little chil- 
 dren, whose excitement no one could soothe, 
 calmed at once by being carried into another 
 room and given an unexpected peep at the moon. 
 I have seen the same result produced in the day- 
 time, by carrying the overstrained child quickly 
 out of doors and attracting his attention to run- 
 ning chickens or flying birds. The sight of some- 
 thing which unexpectedly disappears will also 
 tend to distract the mind and calm the nerves. 
 
 The game now offered to you will attract your 
 child, because it brings before him once again the 
 knights who so captivate his imagination. The 
 unexpected withdrawal of the knights will also 
 direct his thoughts into new channels. 
 
 Motto and song interpret each other. The 
 conclusion of the commentary on The Knights 
 and the Good Child will also throw light upon 
 the spirit of this little game. 
 
XLI. 
 THE KNIGHTS AND THE MOTHER. 
 
 Teach your child that every one 
 Loves him when he's good and true ; 
 
 But that, though so dear to others, 
 He is doubly dear to you. 
 
 So far as the movements of the fingers are 
 concerned, this play is identical with the two 
 which precede it. In how many ways your child 
 may hide himself — or, rather, may fancy himself 
 hidden — no one need suggest to you. 
 
 The spirit which inspires this game is one with 
 the spirit of the two preceding games, in so far 
 as all three relate to the bond of union between 
 the child and other human beings. This new 
 game, however, penetrates even more deeply into 
 his inner life, since it aims to make him conscious 
 of the peculiar tie between his own heart and the 
 heart of his mother. 
 
 It is of the utmost importance alike to the 
 child and to the common life and intercourse of 
 mother and child that the tie between them 
 should be defined to the consciousness of the lat- 
 ter, through the same mediating symbol * which 
 
 * E. g., The Play of the Knights. 
 18 349 
 
Sinbdjen, oerfitdc !SicI) ! 
 
 "X)a6 man @ute« miiffe njaljren, 
 SaS oui) toft J)Ein fiinb crfalirttt ; 
 I)a6 ®u ®ute« retijt ju fif)5jra, 
 Satan lag Beitt fiinb |l(i) te6en." 
 
 250 
 
THE KNIGHTS AND THE MOTHER. 251 
 
 wakens his sense of the link between himself 
 and human beings in general. Otherwise the 
 relationship between mother and child may de- 
 teriorate into a merely physical one, and this 
 is injurious to both, whether from the point of 
 view of bodily health, intellectual growth, or 
 moral eif ort. 
 
 Another thought, dear mother, presses upon 
 our consideration. It has been casually alluded 
 to and illustrated in preceding plays and mot- 
 toes. But if we wish to be enlightened edu- 
 cators, we must give it our direct and full at- 
 tention. The most active and influential force 
 in the education of your children is your own 
 true character. What you really are in your- 
 self ; what you really think about the disposi- 
 tions, deeds, and aims of your children ; what 
 you really approve and condemn ; why you ap- 
 prove and why you condemn; what you prize 
 and why you prize it ; how you guard and cher- 
 ish the things you prize — in a single word, what 
 you show yourself to be in yourself, in your 
 home, and to your family: this is the power 
 which will most influence your children, and 
 that even when they are so small that you may 
 imagine them incapable of understanding or even 
 feeling it. 
 
 How often is it said that mother and child are 
 all in all to each other ! All-in-all ! Mother, pon- 
 der these words. Be all in all to your child, not 
 only in your feeling but with insight and assured 
 deliberate deed. Feeling misunderstood becomes 
 inordinate, and overflows its protecting banks. 
 
252' MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Then, instead of a blessing, it becomes an injury 
 alike to mother and child.* 
 
 * Students of Proebel will observe that I have omitted the 
 conversation and rhyme which close this commentary. They 
 will also observe that in Volume II I give two versions of the 
 song for the child. 
 
 In the original song the mother is represented as hiding her 
 child from the knights, who wish to carry him away. This has 
 troubled the minds of many kindergartners, while by others it 
 is believed to be the one feature of the game which more than 
 any other tends to strengthen the bond of union between mother 
 and child. It has therefore seemed well to me to give two ver- 
 sions of the song, and in order to harmonise the commentary 
 with both versions to make the omissions indicated above. 
 
 The omitted conversation and poem are rendered as follows 
 in Miss Lord's version of the Mother Play : 
 
 " Mother, why did the knights want to have the little 
 child?" 
 
 " Why, you see, because it was a good, dear little child. That 
 is why the knights wanted to have it too ; only its mother loved 
 it so much because it was good, and did not give it to the 
 knights. She would not even let them see it at all." 
 
 " And you, my child, are very dear, 
 
 And very precious too ; 
 God sent indeed a treasure here 
 
 When his love sent me you. 
 And if you're only good, my pet, 
 
 A gentle child, and always kind, 
 Your heart by happy courage set. 
 
 Gladness and merriment to iind. 
 The bond between us two will stay. 
 
 That makes us love each other so ; 
 And when the knights come by this way. 
 
 And want you, I shall say, ' Oh, no ! 
 It's right to guard such gilts ; so ride away ! ' " 
 
 " I will be good — yes, mother dear, I want to stay with you ; 
 Only please love me just as much, and be good to me too." 
 
THE KNIGHTS AND THE MOTHER. 253 
 
 A slight alteration of the conversation will harmonise it with 
 the alternative version of the song : 
 
 " Mother, why did the knights want to take the child a- 
 riding ? " 
 
 " Because he was a dear, good little boy. That was why his 
 mother, too, loved him so dearly, and could only spare him to 
 the knights for a little while." 
 
 Having referred sevei'al times informally to Miss Lord's ver- 
 sion of Mother Play, I give here the correct title of the book : 
 Mother's Songs, Games and Stories, Proebel's Mutter und Kose 
 Lieder, rendered in English by Frances and Emily Lord. 
 
JSevfltden bei JCfiibeg. 
 
 „fflorum mag mill iai Mntiitn meln 
 SBerllectmflJiel fo feSr erfreun ? „— 
 "& ill ba« Oefiif)! ber JJcrfBnti^feit, 
 SDaa jeft fdjon Bern fimbc^eii (o fti;^ etftcut ; 
 & t|i boa ®efiil)I, fid) felbH ju erfennen, 
 ifflenn 's iimt feinen 9!om£n nennen ; 
 D'rum ni£iin jum Serlledfiiier 23eiii Bniiitn (1$ nelgt. 
 $at '8 neue SntroitfctungSllufE £rreiil)t. 
 Son left an mu§t 3)u e« nun forglid) berooljrcit ; 
 Senn btefe ®cfiif)te umfd)roc()en ©efaftreit.— 
 Sannft einnijfeit unb eittigtelt 
 Itnb fo Sfrtraurt unb Dffcnjclt 
 Su jept f(J)on in bcm Mni ernjEden, 
 Dag flE ticillen, 
 SBurjctn tteiljen, 
 suit mlrt e« |e feln a^un oor Dir setiietfcn." 
 
XLII. 
 HIDE AND SEEK. 
 
 Why does my little one laugh so, and crow 
 
 With pretty, exultant pride. 
 When I find him at last, after feigning long 
 
 To look for him far and wide ? 
 
 Ah, well may a note of exulting be heard 
 
 In the laugh of the sweet little elf I 
 He triumphs not only because he is found, 
 
 But because he \& finding himself. 
 
 He feels that his being is something apart 
 From the people and things that surround ; 
 
 He knows who is meant when his name is called out ; 
 When he hides, that 'tis he must be found. 
 
 Play on, gentle mother — play on with thy child, 
 
 But his deeper life never forget ; 
 He has reached a new stage, with new need of thy care 
 
 To guard where new dangers beset. 
 
 With reverent love greet each wakening power. 
 
 And turn its glad eyes to the light ; 
 He hides now in sport, but he never will hide 
 
 His opening soul from thy sight. 
 
 Is there anywhere a mother who does not 
 know Hide and Seek ? Can there be a mother 
 whose baby has not hidden himself on her breast, 
 beneath her arm, in her lap, under her ker- 
 chief ? Hiding, indeed, seems to have an inex- 
 haustible charm alike for baby and for his some- 
 what older brothers and sisters, and hiding games 
 255 
 
256 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 never fail to arise in and develop with cliild- 
 hood. Their universality proves them to be 
 deeply rooted in human nature, and suggests that 
 they must have significant recoils upon develop- 
 ment and education. 
 
 We have recognised that the natural and 
 original unity of feeling between mother and 
 child may become inordinate and injurious. But 
 if unity misunderstood works evil, how much 
 greater evil must spring from separation and 
 estrangement when these are either half-under- 
 stood or wholly misinterpreted ? 
 
 In view of the dangers of estrangement, is it 
 not surprising that with unhesitating instinct 
 you invite your darling to hide from you ? Is it 
 not passing strange that hiding should give him 
 delight ? 
 
 Nay, mother, nay! Well is it for you, well 
 is it for your child, that the original incitement 
 to separation should spring from your heart. All 
 giving is linked with receiving, or rather, let me 
 say, all giving blossoms out of receiving. This is 
 the clue to your instinctive procedure. Make it 
 clear to your consciousness that you may justify 
 the promptings of your love, and avoid the dan- 
 gers into which all blind impulses are so easily 
 betrayed. 
 
 You incite your child to hide from you. He 
 enjoys hiding from you. It is a keen excitement 
 to him to be so concealed that for long minutes 
 you cannot see him and are not able to find him. 
 Herein undoubtedly lurks a germ of danger. Be- 
 ware lest he find such pleasure in concealment 
 
HIDE AND SEEK. 257 
 
 that he is willing to hide longer and longer, and 
 that in the end he becomes indifferent to being 
 found. Be watchful lest his impulse to hide him- 
 self be distorted into an impulse to hide his ac- 
 tions. Be careful, above all, that the pure play- 
 impulse of hiding be not corrupted by some 
 chance deed done while hidden ! 
 
 The possibility of such a deed is the germ of 
 evil alluded to above ; for therein lurks the dan- 
 ger that he may begin to hide his actions, and 
 increasingly seek to conceal what he knows you 
 cannot approve, what he fears you may condemn 
 and punish. 
 
 I will not torture your feelings by tracing in 
 detail the transition from concealment to evasion, 
 from evasion to distortion of facts, from such dis- 
 tortion to wilful falsehood. Rather will I try to 
 answer the question which is sounding in your 
 heart, and tell you how you may avoid the dan- 
 gers incident to the play which yields your child 
 such pure delight, and which is so intimately 
 allied with his free and joyous development. 
 
 Ponder the game itself. Observe the child as 
 he plays it. Notice particularly how his eyes 
 sparkle with joy when he is found. However 
 safely he hides himself, how still soever he keeps 
 while hidden, his one anxiety is that he may be 
 found; the single source of his pleasure is an- 
 ticipation of the moment when his hiding place 
 shall be discovered. 
 
 But why, then, does he hide at all ? He might 
 lie unhidden in your arms, upon your knee, close 
 to your heart, and, looking into your eyes, see you 
 
258 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 looking lovingly back at Mm. Does he hide 
 himself in order to conceal himself from you ? 
 Does he wish to be separated from you ? God 
 forbid ! He seeks through physical separation 
 to heighten his sense of spiritual union. The 
 length of time he enjoys being hidden measures 
 the rising tides of his consciousness. The delight 
 of finding you again, the joy of being again 
 found and seen by you, increase just in propor- 
 tion as his thought submerged in feeling rises 
 out of darkness into the light. 
 
 In order, therefore, to guard your child from 
 the possibility of pleasure in concealment, cher- 
 ish his desire to be found, heighten his joy in 
 reunion. Then from the point where danger 
 seemed to threaten will come the help you need, 
 and instead of sorrow you will win access of joy. 
 
 So is it, so must it always be, in God's world. 
 A threatening danger is an offered help. The 
 longing for physical separation is the mark of a 
 craving for spiritual union. Understand this 
 impulse, and respond to the need it indicates. 
 So shall you solve a knotty problem ; so shall 
 you win safety, blessing, peace, and joy. 
 
 The goal of life is unity. The yearning for 
 estrangement merely points to the path by which 
 unity may be attained. 
 
XLIII. 
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 The mother oalla " Cuckoo ! " to baby now, 
 But there shall come erelong another call, 
 
 Hidden, yet near. 
 And oh so soft and low, 
 
 The child must listen well if he would hear ! 
 
 At first it seems a call from other where. 
 But, heeded well, it enters the child's soul, 
 
 A dweller meet ; 
 And ever thenceforth there 
 
 Mingles its mandates with his heart's life-beat. 
 
 "But wherefore, then. The Cuckoo game?" 
 asks some one who has never pondered the deep 
 meanings which lie hidden in childish play. Is it 
 not exactly like Hide and Seek, only that one 
 calls out " Cuckoo '' to the hiding child ? 
 
 Consider the two games carefully, and you will 
 see that, though nearly allied, they differ widely. 
 The Cuckoo is an expansion, or, more precisely, a 
 higher evolution, of Hide and Seek, and makes its 
 appearance at a later stage of development. What, 
 then, is the difference between the two plays ? 
 Through what contrasting feature does The 
 Cuckoo show an advance upon its predecessor ? 
 
 Observe each game closely, thoughtful mother, 
 
 and you will easily discover their differences. In 
 
 the one, separation and union are thrown into 
 
 relief by contrast, in order that each may be more 
 
 259 
 
THE CUCKOO. 261 
 
 consciously felt ; in the other, these contrasts are 
 mediated by the cuckoo call. The salient charac- 
 teristic of The Cuckoo play is union in separa- 
 tion, and separation in union. In this peculiar- 
 ity lies the secret of its abiding charm. Since the 
 consciousness of union in separation, and of sepa- 
 ration (i. e., personality) in union, is the root of 
 conscience, the child's delight in this little game 
 shows us that his spiritual ear is becoming sensi- 
 tive to her still small voice. 
 
 Well for the child, well for the man, to whom 
 throughout life the voice of conscience is the 
 prophecy and pledge of an abiding union with 
 God! 
 
 Above the heads of the mother and children 
 in our picture the sun is rising. Is our artist 
 hinting to us the rise of that great spiritual Sun 
 in whose light they shall learn their abiding dis- 
 tinction and their indissoluble union ? 
 
 " What is it, mother, sometimes speaks to me. 
 Like something dear and sweet I cannot see ? 
 That seems to smile when I am all alone, 
 With love as kind and gentle as your own." 
 
 " Child, when your mother's face you cannot see. 
 There is a loving presence still with thee ; 
 And when your mother's voice you cannot hear. 
 There still is something whispering in your ear: 
 ' Be good, be glad, be thankful for the love 
 That never leaves, but smiles from heaven above !' 
 Within thy heart abides that presence bright. 
 The gift of God to guide my child aright." * 
 
 * Emily Huntington Miller. 
 
sea 
 
XLIV. 
 
 THE TOYMAN AND THE MAIDEN. 
 
 The child, with prescience of life's complex joys, 
 Looks with delight upon the shopman's toys. 
 The mother, in whose heart those joys have smiled, 
 With present gladness looks upon her child. 
 
 THE TOYMAN AND THE BOY. 
 
 The toyman spreads his wares with skilful hand. 
 While in the boy's mind, all unhid, arise 
 
 Vague stirrings which he cannot understand — 
 Strange newborn yearnings towards life's great emprise ; 
 
 Yearnings which, wisely trained, will grow at length 
 
 To motive power, still strengthening with his strength. 
 
 The position of the hands in these little plays 
 is simple and familiar. It is likewise clearly- 
 shown in the picture of The Toyman and the 
 Boy. The middle and ring fingers of each hand 
 touching at their tips represent the toyshop. The 
 forefingers lying one above the other suggest a 
 counter. The two little fingers are salesmen 
 standing behind the counter; the two thumbs 
 are buyers standing before it. These buyers are, 
 in one case, a mother and daughter ; in the other, 
 a father and son. 
 
 The mart of life has its claims and its lessons. 
 When either a child or a man has become in- 
 263 
 
!Sm Saufmann unb bcr Sinabe. 
 
 "Die Jponb ben fioufmann jeigt jeraonbt; 
 Sei(i)t jieSt ba« fiinb oud) btefe ^onb, 
 ffleitn (1e friif) leittt mit Siebeefinn 
 Sa« Sinbdfen fijon jum ®uteii ^iit." 
 
 2ti4 
 
THE TOYMAN AND THE MAIDEN. 265 
 
 wardly clear to himself, and has gained the mas- 
 tery over himself, he may go to this mart with 
 pleasure and profit. There he will find hundreds 
 of things to be set not only in physical but in 
 spiritual relations to himself and to others. In 
 the needs of man revealed by the products of man 
 he may behold human nature and human life re- 
 flected as in a mirror. Gazing into this mirror, 
 he will learn to recognise his own genuine needs, 
 and grow able to choose for himself both the 
 things which are outwardly useful and those 
 which will edify and gladden his soul. Frequent- 
 ing thus the great mart of life, he wins from it a 
 really pious joy. 
 
 Such a joy the child is blindly seeking when 
 he longs to go to the market and the shop. He 
 feels its premonitory thrill as he gazes at the 
 motley stalls of the one and the brilliant counters 
 of the other. 
 
 In the rich mart of life each person may choose 
 for himself useful and beautiful things. Special 
 choices will be determined by age, sex, and voca- 
 tion. The little girl, the maiden, the mother, the 
 housewife, will desire things which serve and 
 adorn the home — things which lighten the duties 
 and augment the charm of family life. The boy, 
 the youth, the man, the father, will wish to pro- 
 tect his home, and his choices will be influenced 
 by this desire. The woman will prefer beautiful 
 things ; the man strong things. Blending in har- 
 monious union, the strong and the beautiful pro- 
 duce the good. Understanding that they comple- 
 ment each other, man and woman are transfigured 
 19 
 
266 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 from external counterparts into a spiritual unity, 
 and with their mutual recognition life becomes 
 one, whole, complete. 
 
 A prescient feeling of the inner in the outer ; 
 of similarity in distinction ; of unity in the mani- 
 fold ; of the universal in the particular — such is 
 the impulsive power which drives the child to 
 the market and the shop. He longs to look at 
 life in a mirror, to find himself through looking, 
 and to win from this rich experience the power 
 and the means of embodying his own deep self- 
 hood. 
 
 Hence your child, if he be truly childlike, will 
 not crave physical possession of all the things he 
 sees. His heart's desire will be fully satisfied by a 
 doll or a cart, a whistle or a sheep, provided only 
 that in and through his toy he finds and repre- 
 sents himself and his little world. 
 
XLV. 
 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 When to the church a little child is brought, 
 
 Its sacred service stirs within his thought 
 
 Strange yearnings — dim, but with deep meaning fraught. 
 
 He sees unnumbered heads, all bowed in prayer, 
 Asking one Father's guidance, help, and care. 
 While all the words of one petition share. 
 
 And when the organ's deep, melodious tone 
 Preludes some hymn by all long loved and known, 
 He hears unnumbered voices rise as one. 
 
 The meaning of it all he can not tell, 
 
 And yet the praying throng, the hymn's rich swell, 
 
 Hold him as in a sweetly solemn spell. 
 
 Seize the swift mood, dear mother, that its glow 
 May warm the seed of truth which you would sow ; 
 Thus planted in his life, 'twill root and grow. 
 
 For even as one mastering thought can thrill 
 A thousand differing minds and hearts until 
 They move with one desire, have but one will : 
 
 So in each life one consecrated aim. 
 
 One high endeavour, like a chemist's flame. 
 
 Melts and reshapes each lesser thought or claim. 
 
 But, ah I this truth you must yourself first prove 
 Ere you can teach it to the child you love. 
 Once learned, he'll value it all else above. 
 
 Think not that he is all too young to teach : 
 His little heart will like a magnet reach 
 And touch the truth for which you find no speech. 
 267 
 
368 
 
THE CHURCH. 269 
 
 Already Nature has your task begun, 
 For see how discord even now he'll shun, 
 But love to stay where all things are at one. 
 
 If you would bind your little one to you, 
 Bind your own soul to all that's high and true, 
 And let its light shine clear through all you do. 
 
 The forearms held in a vertical position repre- 
 sent doorposts. The hands bent towards each 
 other make the arch of the door. The four fin- 
 gers of one hand spread out over the four fingers 
 of the other hand suggest a window over the 
 door. The thumbs stand above like little belfries. 
 
 All free expressions of child life are symbolic 
 and point to an inward ground. Hence their 
 spiritual magnetism and charm. 
 
 Dimly and unconsciously the child feels the 
 unity of life. Because his feeling is blind he 
 often misunderstands it. Because it is living, he 
 rejoices in all its outward incarnations. This is 
 the reason why, at the stage of development de- 
 scribed in my commentary on The Toyman, he 
 delights to frequent the places where men meet 
 together and take counsel with each other. 
 
 In all families where churchgoing has any 
 real meaning, stands in any real relation to cor- 
 porate and individual life, the children are anx- 
 ious to go to church, and count an occasional 
 participation in its services a great privilege and 
 joy. This joy, in the first instance, springs not 
 from any understanding of what is said or sung, 
 but from the simple fact that with inner col- 
 lectedness and devotion all the worshipping con- 
 gregation sing the same hymns, unite in the 
 
270 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 same prayers. The child knows that a common 
 thought is stirring many minds, a common feel- 
 ing throbbing in many hearts. By this recogni- 
 tion his own presentiment of the unity and har- 
 mony of life is fed and strengthened. Hence his 
 joy in churchgoing. 
 
 But a time will come when he will ask what 
 mean the words which all are saying, the songs 
 which all are singing. His question must be 
 answered in a way corresponding to the stage of 
 development he has attained and to the degree 
 and range of his spiritual experience. In my 
 song of The Church I have endeavoured to sug- 
 gest how this may be done. Study this song, and 
 you will find that it points to two distinct stages 
 of spiritual evolution -. a narrower and a wider, an 
 earlier and a later. Choose from it what you 
 need for your child. Develop its hints, follow 
 the path it opens. In all that you do, however, 
 make it your chief aim to satisfy, fulfil, and 
 strengthen the prophesies of the soul. So doing, 
 you will open the child's inner ear to the har- 
 monies which sound through and are echoed 
 from his heart. Then shall he learn to recog- 
 nise these harmonies in Nature and in life,* 
 
 * " Truth seek wc both : tbon, in the world without thee and 
 around ; 
 I, in the world within ; by both alike may truth be found. 
 The healthy eye may through the world the great Creator 
 
 track ; 
 The healthy heart is but the glass that gives creation back." 
 
 Schiller. 
 
THE CHURCH. 2Tl 
 
 and shall find at last his own accord with him 
 who is 
 
 " The life of aU life, 
 The light of all light, 
 The love of all love, 
 The good of all good — 
 God." 
 
(ttt ticine S(id)ntt. 
 
 6i ! boa jtinb(t£n fletn 
 ajtijd)!' fdjon S'l^tiEr feltt. 
 
 goft ein S»!ld)t« ct\iidnt be« fiinbcS firaft, 
 
 SUititbcftena nod) unbebeutenb Hein ; 
 Stber wai ifl rooM, ba« aEroej &nitl fd)afft : 
 
 ginbeft e« tm atletiUinften Slun. 
 9Ifle3, otted, mai nur um I)i(^ ber entfleljt, 
 
 ©ei eg ncd) fo unerme^ltd) groi, 
 2lttc« ou« bem Sletnften flct« f)cwot nut jeljt. 
 
 3Ba« ba« janje Sltl birgt in bem ©406, 
 au« bcni, ©innen faum SBaljrnelimbar'n, jest's Ijcraot. 
 
 Eurum i|l ia (Siott fo gettlidi jroi ! 
 ©tr5me, beren 9laufd)en gan; betiiubt ©ein Dbr, 
 
 fflte tie ©onnen tjaben gleidjeo SoS: 
 %ui bem 9iicl)t« Setbcrrief ®ott fie, ber fie Wuf '■ 
 
 ©prad) S t nid)t : ©ei aud^ im Sleinfien treu ? ! 
 Unb Du njoflteft nid)t im fiinb »erftef;n ben Sliuf? 
 
 SDieineft Xu, ba§ bier ei anbera fel ? 
 Botum, gitern, mad)t ei gud) jum roidjiijften ®efd)afte, 
 Sreu ju IJflegen SureS Jtinbea unfi^einbare firSfte. 
 
 273 
 
XLVI. 
 
 THE LITTLE ARTIST. 
 
 The things a child can make 
 
 May crude and worthless be ; 
 It is his impulse to create 
 
 Should gladden thee ! 
 
 The greatest things have grown 
 
 All slowly to their prime; 
 From least beginnings, vaguely known, 
 In farthest time. 
 
 The river, whose strong tide 
 
 No bridge may safely span, 
 Can be traced back to the small spring 
 Where it began. 
 
 The steadfast earth we tread. 
 
 The moon, the stars, the sun. 
 Were called from nothing ere yet time 
 Had been begun. 
 
 No — rather were they born 
 From the enfolding All, 
 Whose method only is to bring 
 
 Great things from small. 
 
 His method, which still reigns 
 
 Through all the wondrous whole — 
 The outward universe — the race. 
 Each human soul. 
 
 " Be faithful in the least ! " 
 
 O wise, sweet words for all. 
 But sweetest on a mother's ear 
 
 They seem to fall — 
 273 
 
2*74 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Throwing a sacred light 
 
 On each weak putting forth 
 Of her child's soul, and giving it 
 Prophetic worth. 
 
 Your child sits, as he so loves to do, upon your 
 lap. With the index finger of your right hand, 
 or with his index finger, you draw in the air out- 
 lines suggestive of simple objects. Such outlines 
 may also be traced in sand spread out upon a 
 tray, or, again, when the child is older, upon a 
 slate. Finally, you may, if you prefer, begin by 
 drawing in sand, advance from this to drawing 
 on the slate, and end by describing outlines in 
 the air. Good reasons may be given for pursuing 
 either of these plans. The tracing of outlines in 
 the air delights very young children, because it 
 is a definite and suggestive movement. 
 
 In any and all of its forms drawing is pleasing 
 to children. The grounds of such pleasure are 
 obvious. Drawing attests the mind's creative 
 power, and offers a seemingly simple form for its 
 exertion. How, then, can it fail to be delightful, 
 especially upon the plane of development to 
 which we have now ascended ? 
 
 The child's mind has a relatively rich and va- 
 ried content. He has, moreover, begun to feel 
 the unity in manifoldness, and through his soul 
 flit shadowy suggestions of the identity of all life. 
 In a word, he bears within himself a little world. 
 He must therefore strive in some simple way, and 
 by the means at his command, to recreate this 
 world. 
 
 Through drawing, the child advances from 
 
THE LITTLE ARTIST. 2T5 
 
 perception to picture. What he has learned from 
 life he passes in review before his soul. It would 
 seem as if he were trying to get a survey of his 
 experience as a whole, in order that he may be 
 able to understand its nature, discriminate its 
 permanent and essential from its accidental and 
 vanishing elements, and thus learn to choose 
 what is good and avoid what is evil. 
 
 Above all, however, drawing, as a creative 
 activity, throws light upon the being of the 
 Creator. He who would know the Creator must 
 exercise his own creative power. Moreover, he 
 must exercise it consciously for the production 
 and representation of the good. The doing of 
 what is good is the tie between Creator and 
 creature. To do good with insight and intention 
 makes this tie a conscious one. Therein is the 
 living union of man and God — the union of indi- 
 viduals with God — the union of all humanity 
 with God. With this discovery we understand 
 at last the point of departure for all true educa- 
 tion, and the goal towards which it strives. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
NOTE I. 
 
 Illustrated Title-Page (see page v). 
 
 Surrounded by her children is a mother 
 whose whole being is penetrated by a sense of 
 the dignity and solemnity of her vocation. In 
 her loyal and loving heart echo the words, 
 " Come, let us live with our children." Through 
 song she seeks to reach the hearts of her little 
 ones, and to prepare them for an all-sided har- 
 mony of life. 
 
 Attracted by this active motherliness, other 
 children — the children, perhaps, of relatives and 
 friends — flock towards the joyous circle. Al- 
 though sure of a welcome, they approach with 
 modest diffidence; for the spirit of harmonious 
 development hovers over this family group, and 
 in the presence of such a spirit who does not feel 
 shyness and reverence ? 
 
 Those whose souls are thrilled by the musical 
 accord of life will revere that which is, will guard 
 that which is possessed, will nurture that which 
 is in process of becoming. Hence the little girl 
 in our picture is impelled to care for the growing 
 plants. Most of all she loves to water the lily, 
 the flower of childhood, the stainless type of 
 childhood's innocence. The vigorous boy, on 
 279 
 
280 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 the contrary, is prompted by the feeling of life's 
 inner harmony to the observation of activity and 
 growth, and his eager and wondering gaze is 
 fixed upon a bird's nest, or rather upon the fledge- 
 lings within the nest, who are so rapidly gaining 
 the strength which shall enable them to fly high 
 in the air. 
 
 The plays of childhood become the realities of 
 later life. Our little boy has grown into a vig- 
 orous youth, our little girl into a fair and gentle 
 maiden. They seek in Nature for an object which 
 shall be, as it were, a counterpart to their own 
 inmost life. The fragrance of the lily stills 
 the heart-yearning of the youth. Its form, at 
 once strong and delicate, appeals to the sentiment 
 of the maiden. The latter rests securely in her 
 harmoniously developed and still developing feel- 
 ings ; the former finds his support in the intellect, 
 whose strife and aspiration are for clearness of 
 vision. Hence our picture shows us the maiden 
 poised on the sphere which implicitly contains 
 all the archetypes of form; while the youth 
 stands upon the cube, which manifests with clear- 
 ness the simple laws that govern and determine 
 form. 
 
 The lily, so faithfully tended by childish hands 
 has burst into blossoms, which, while clinging to 
 their stalk, look upward to the universal life- 
 giver, the sun. In like manner, out of the lily- 
 root of childish mirth and innocence have blos- 
 somed the love and joy of souls aspiring towards 
 the great spiritual Sun, the one source and foun- 
 tain of all spiritual life. 
 
NOTB II. 281 
 
 By day and by night Nature bestows her bless- 
 ing upon such activities and upon such nurture. 
 She pours it down upon the rays of the sun. She 
 sheds it from Ariadne's crown. She says to every 
 mother, to every woman who has a motherly 
 heart : " Meditate and educate. ISTurturQ the com- 
 ing happy race. This work you can do, and you 
 alone." 
 
 The dwellers in heaven send their messenger 
 to bear to this motherly, child-cherishing, human- 
 ity-nurturing life, the olive branch of peace. The 
 Holy Spirit, in the form of a dove, hovers over it, 
 giving it highest consecration. Out of the clouds 
 comes a voice : " This is the nurture of my chil- 
 dren in the garden of life; in it I am well 
 pleased." 
 
 NOTE II (See page 22). 
 
 It may help the reader to catch the genetic 
 idea of the Mother Play if I indicate a few stages 
 in the evolution of one great insight from its first 
 appearance as a typical fact in nursery rhyme to 
 its comprehensive presentation in Shakespeare. 
 As the Mother Play is largely concerned with the 
 relationship between the particular self and the 
 universal self, I choose as my point of departure 
 the mental perturbations of the little woman so 
 badly treated by the peddler Stout : 
 
 " There was a little woman, as I've heard tell, 
 She went to market her eggs for to sell : 
 20 
 
28^ MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 She went to market all on a market day, 
 And she fell asleep on the king's highway. 
 
 " There came a little peddler, his name was Stout; 
 He cut off her petticoats round about ; 
 He cut olf her petticoats up to her knees, 
 And the poor little woman began for to freeze. 
 
 " She began to shiver, and she began to cry ; 
 ' Lawk-a-mercy on me ! sure it isn't I ! 
 But if it be I, as I think it ought to be, 
 I've got a little dog at home, and he knows me ! ' " 
 
 The psychologic point of the rhyme is given 
 in the closing lines. The little old woman de- 
 pends upon the recognition of her dog to be sure 
 she is herself. This is, of course, the mere in- 
 articulate babble of infant reason. In Grimm's 
 story of Clever Alice we hear her childish lisp. 
 Hans and Alice had been married some time; 
 then, one morning, Hans said : 
 
 " Wife, I will go out to work and earn some 
 money ; do you go into the field and gather some 
 corn wherewith to make bread." 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " I will do so, dear Hans." 
 And when he was gone, she cooked herself a nice 
 mess of pottage to take with her. As she came 
 to the field, she said to herself : " What shall I do ? 
 Shall I cut first, or eat first ? Ay, I will eat first." 
 Then she ate up the contents of her pot, and when 
 it was finished she thought to herself : " Kow, 
 shall I reap first, or sleep first ? Well, I think I 
 will have a nap." And so she laid herself down 
 among the corn and went to sleep. Meanwhile 
 Hans returned home, but Alice did not come, and 
 
NOTE II. 283 
 
 SO lie said : " Oh, what a prudent Alice I have ! 
 she is so industrious that she does not even come 
 home to eat anything." By-and-bye, however, 
 evening came on and still she did not return ; so 
 Hans went out to see how much she had reaped ; 
 but, behold, nothing at all, and there lay Alice 
 fast asleep among the corn. So home he ran very 
 fast, and brought a net with little bells hanging 
 on it, which he threw over her head while she 
 still slept on. When he had done this he went 
 back again and shut to the house door, and, seat- 
 ing himself on his stool, began working very in- 
 dustriously. 
 
 At last, when it was quite dark, the Clever 
 Alice awoke, and as soon as she stood up the net 
 fell all over her hair and the bells jingled at 
 every step she took. This frightened her, and 
 she began to doubt whether she were really Clever 
 Alice, and said to herself, " Am I she, or am I 
 not ? " This question she could not answer, and 
 she stood still a long while considering. At last 
 she thought she would go home and ask if she 
 were really herself, supposing they would be able 
 to tell. When she came to the house door it was 
 shut, so she tapped at the window, and asked, 
 "Hans, is Alice within?" "Yes," he replied, 
 " she is." Now she was really terrified, and ex- 
 claiming, "Ah, heaven, then I am not Alice ! " she 
 ran up to another house ; but as soon as the folks 
 within heard the jingling of the bells they would 
 not open their doors, and so nobody would receive 
 her. Then she ran straight away from the village, 
 and no one has ever seen her since. 
 
284r MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 In the Hitopadesa the truth implicit in these 
 two stories rises into somewhat clearer conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " A Brahman, who had vowed a sacrifice, went 
 to market to buy a goat. Three thieves saw him, 
 and wanted to get hold of the goat. They sta- 
 tioned themselves at intervals on the high road. 
 When the Brahman, who carried the goat on his 
 back, approached the first thief, the thief said, 
 ' Brahman, why do you carry a dog on your 
 back ? ' The Brahman replied, ' It is not a dog, 
 it is a goat.' A little while after, he was accosted 
 by the second thief, who said, ' Brahman, why do 
 you carry a dog on your back ? ' The Brahman 
 felt perplexed, put the goat down, examined it, 
 took it up again, and walked on. Soon after, he 
 was stopped by the third thief, who said, ' Brah- 
 man, why do you carry a dog on your back?' 
 Then the Brahman was frightened, threw down 
 the goat, and walked home to perform his ablu- 
 tions for having touched an unclean animal. The 
 thieves took the goat and ate it." * 
 
 Readers of the Arabian Nights will recall the 
 story of Abou Hassan, the young spendthrift of 
 Bagdad, who was conveyed in his sleep to the 
 palace of Haroun-Al-Raschid, and by the honours 
 shown him on waking made to believe himself 
 Sultan. Many analogous tales may be found 
 both in Oriental and Occidental literatiire, but it 
 is needless to multiply illustrations, and I will 
 only remind my readers of the scene in the Tam- 
 
 * Cited in Myths and Myth Makers. John Fiske. 
 
NOTE II. 285 
 
 ing of the Shrew, wherein Christopher Sly, the 
 drunken tinker, wakes to find himself trans- 
 formed into a lord (Act I, Scene 2). 
 
 The presupposition latent in all these stories 
 is that the individual cannot know anything, 
 least of all himself, until such knowledge is re- 
 flected to him from others. In Troilus and Cres- 
 sida this psychologic truth finds explicit state- 
 ment. Achilles has quarrelled with Agamemnon 
 and deserted the cause of his people. Ulysses 
 suggests that while he stands in the entrance to 
 his tent general and princes shall " pass strange- 
 ly by him, as if he were forgot." He himself will 
 come last and medicine his pride. The plan is 
 carried out, and the following conversation takes 
 place between Ulysses and Achilles : 
 
 Achilles. How now, Ulysses? 
 
 Ulysses. Now, great Thetis' son! 
 
 Achil. What are you reading ? 
 
 Ulyss. A strange fellow here 
 
 Writes me, that man, how dearly ever parted. 
 How much in having, or without, or in. 
 Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, 
 Nor feels not what he owes but by reflection ; 
 As when his virtues shining upon others 
 Heat them, and they retort that heat again 
 To the first giver. 
 
 Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses. 
 
 The beauty that is borne here in the face 
 The bearer knows not, but commends itself 
 To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself— 
 That most pure spirit of sense — behold itself. 
 Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed 
 Salutes each other with each other's form. 
 
286 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 For speculation turns not to itself, 
 
 Till it hath travelled, and is arrived there 
 
 Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all. 
 
 Ulyss. I do not strain at the position. 
 It is familiar ; hut at the author's drift ; 
 Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves, 
 That no man is the lord of anything 
 (Though in and of him there be much consisting) 
 Till he communicate his parts to others : 
 Nor doth he of himself know them for aught 
 Till he behold them formed in the applause 
 Where they are extended ; which, like an arch, rever- 
 berates 
 The voice again ; or, like a gate of steel 
 Fronting the sun, receives and renders back 
 His figure and his heat." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida, Act III, Scene 3. 
 
 In this marvellous statement the truth that 
 man knows himself through others is comple- 
 mented by the truth that he must commiinicate 
 himself to others. The individual lives in and 
 through his relations with other individuals. 
 Man is husband, father, son, brother, friend, an 
 actor in the realm of civil society, a patriot, the 
 hero of a great cause, the member of a universal 
 society. Inner life is created and maintained by 
 outer life, and isolating himself from his spiritual 
 environment, the human being ceases to exist. 
 Hence altruism is the principle of spiritual life, 
 and the shallovfest and vainest of all self -deceiv- 
 ers are those who fondly hug the delusion that 
 their "inner life" is higher and better than their 
 deeds. He vrho loves no one is not loving. He 
 who is loved by no one is not lovable. He who 
 
NOTE III. 287 
 
 gives nothing is not generous. He who is con- 
 stantly protecting himself against others cannot 
 be helper or hero.* 
 
 NOTE III (See page 24). 
 
 In an autobiographical letter to the Duke of 
 Meiningen, Froebel gives an account of his first 
 day at school, and the impression it left upon his 
 mind. This record of his own experience stands 
 in s^ch vital relation to what he has attempted 
 to do for childhood that, despite the fact that it 
 must be familiar to many of my readers, I ven- 
 ture to quote it in full : 
 
 "At the time of my childhood, church and 
 school generally stood in strict mutual relation- 
 ship. . . . The school children had their special 
 places in church, and not only were they obliged 
 to attend church, but each child had to repeat to 
 the teacher, at a special class held for the purpose 
 every Monday, some passage of Scriptiire used 
 by the minister in his sermon of the day before, 
 as a proof of attention to the service. From these 
 passages, that one which seemed most suitable to 
 children was then chosen for the little ones to 
 master, or to learn by heart, and for that purpose 
 one of the older children had during the whole 
 week, at certain times each day, to repeat the 
 
 * See Mr. D. J. Snider's Shakespearean Drama. A Com- 
 mentary Histories, pp. 77-80. 
 
288 MOTHER PLAT. 
 
 passage to the little cliildren, sentence by sen- 
 tence. The little ones, all standing np, had then 
 to repeat the text, sentence by sentence, in like 
 manner, until it was thoroughly imprinted on 
 their memories. 
 
 " I came into school on a Monday. The pas- 
 sage chosen for that week was, ' Seek ye first the 
 Kingdom of God.' I heard these words every 
 day, in the calm, serious, somewhat sing-song 
 voices of the children, sometimes repeated by one 
 child, sometimes by the whole number. Aud the 
 text made an impression upon me, such as none 
 had ever done before, and none ever did after. 
 Indeed, this impression was so vigorous and per- 
 manent that to this day every word spoken with 
 the special tone and expression then given to it is 
 still vivid in my mind. And yet that is now 
 nearly forty years ago ! Perhaps, even then, the 
 simple boy's heart felt that these words would be 
 the foundation and the salvation of his life, 
 bringing to him that conviction which was to 
 become later on to the working and striving man 
 a source of unconquerable courage, of unflinch- 
 ing, ever-ready, and cheerful self-sacrifice. In 
 short, my introduction into that school was the 
 birth of my higher spiritual life." * 
 
 Froebel was of an introspective nature, and 
 seems to have been more than usually conscious 
 of the fertilising expei'iences of his life. The 
 hazelnut blossom, from which, in early child- 
 
 * Autobiography of Friedrich Froebel, translated by B. 
 Michaelis and H. Keatley Jloore, p. 82. 
 
NOTE III. 289 
 
 hood, he gained his first presentiment of the 
 import of sex; the tiny unnamed floweret into 
 whose heart he peered with a haunting sense of 
 the mystery of development ; the story of Samuel 
 Lawill, whose magic ring apprised him by a prick 
 that he was doing wrong ; a theological discussion 
 between his rigidly orthodox father and a brother 
 inclined towards speculation which first wakened 
 in his consciousness an idea of the pendulum-like 
 vibration of thought ; a table showing the rela- 
 tionship between different alphabets and their 
 derivation from old Phoenician characters, which 
 astounded him with its suggestion of unity under 
 variety; Winckelmann's Letters, which roused 
 his feeling for art ; and an abridged translation 
 of the Zend-Avesta, which opened his eyes to the 
 historic evolution of religion — are all mentioned 
 by him with full recognition of their influence 
 upon his thought and character. 
 
 His ideal of education is to fertilise the seeds 
 of thought which are indigenous to the soil of 
 the mind, and when they begin to grow to supply 
 them with nourishment of the right kind and in 
 the right amount. 
 
 He shows his wisdom by presenting truth in 
 aesthetic forms, which allure the imagination and 
 rouse no antagonism by direct effort to coerce the 
 will. 
 
290 MOTHEll PLAY. 
 
 NOTE IV (See page 33). 
 
 Since the publication in 1890 of M. Tarde's 
 book Les Lois de L'Imitation there has been an 
 observable tendency to deiine all the phenomena 
 of mind in terms of this once despised faculty. 
 As Dr. Harris has pointed out,* such definitions 
 are fruitful and suggestive, because they throw 
 into relief a real continuity of function. It is 
 better, however, to define imitation as an initial 
 form of reflection f than to define reflection as a 
 higher potency of imitation. In general, lower 
 activities should be defined by higher, and not 
 higher activities by lower. The heresy underly- 
 ing atomic theories is the outcome of an attempt 
 to explain all things from the point of view of 
 sense-perception, which attributes self-existence 
 and independence to finite and dependent objects. 
 The heresy underlying the presentation of spir- 
 itual relationships under images borrowed from 
 vital organisms is the result of looking at all 
 things from the point of view of the understand- 
 ing, which, while perceiving universal relativity, 
 does not perceive that this implies self -relation. 
 The attempt to explain all mental phenomena as 
 forms of imitation is interesting, because it points 
 to the infinite self-communication of the divine 
 mind as the final explanation of the universe. J 
 
 * See his article on The Imitative Faculty iii Education. 
 New York Independent, August 2, 1894. 
 
 f Usinfi; reflection in the sense of rairroi-ing. 
 
 I See Educational Psychology, Dr. Harris, pp. 11-16. 
 
NOTE V. 291 
 
 The most illuminating passage in Les Lois de 
 L'Imitation is in a note on page 397, which may 
 be translated as follows : 
 
 " To confess my deepest thought with regard 
 to the unknown and unknowable source of uni- 
 versal repetitions (or imitations) I must admit 
 that an infinite ambition does not suffice to ac- 
 count for them. There are days when another 
 explanation hovers before my mind. I suspect 
 that the delight in indefinite and indefatigable 
 self-repetition may be a sign of love — for in life 
 and in art the characteristic mark of love is to 
 repeat forever the same thing, to depict again 
 and again the same subject. Then I ask myself 
 if the universe, which seems to delight in monot- 
 onous repetitions — does not reveal thereby rather 
 an infinite heart of love than an infinite ambition. 
 I cannot avoid the conjecture that all things, not- 
 withstanding their warfare with each other, have 
 been created con amore, and that thereby alone 
 can we explain the beauty which subsists, despite 
 evil and pain." 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 pbose translation of froebevs mottoes. 
 
 Play with the Limbs. 
 
 "When the child amuses himself by striking 
 out with his arms and legs the impulse to play 
 with him stirs in the mother. 
 
 This impulse is bestowed upon her by the 
 Creator. It hints to her how through the outer 
 
292 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 she may nurture the inner life — how through 
 play and playful tricks she may awaken feelings, 
 presentiments, and yearnings. 
 
 Falling ! Falling ! 
 
 In each instinctive mother play there lurks a 
 deep unconscious thought. 
 
 Even so simple a game as Falling ! Falling ! 
 has a profound motive. 
 
 Always and through all she does, the mother 
 strives to nurture the child's intellect and aug- 
 ment his force. She wishes to make him both 
 strong and vigilant, so that when he begins to 
 stand, walk, and run he may know how to avoid 
 a fall. 
 
 Weather-vane. 
 
 Do you desire that your child shall understand 
 another's deed ? Then let him do a similar deed. 
 
 Herein is grounded his desire to imitate the 
 activities of persons and things about him. 
 
 All Gone. 
 
 How does the baby explain to himself All 
 gone? 
 
 Some meaning he must find therein, or it 
 would not attract him. 
 
 What he just saw he sees no more ; what was 
 above is below ; what was before him has disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Where has it gone ? 
 
 Some one has taken it. 
 
 See, one thing is in both. 
 
 Therefore is the child content. 
 
NOTE V. 293 
 
 Taste Song. 
 
 Througli the senses Nature speaks clearly to 
 the child. 
 
 Mother, see to it that he finds the latter (Na- 
 ture) through the former (the senses). 
 
 Through the senses the gate of the invisible 
 realm is opened. 
 
 Only the spirit, however, can bring this in- 
 visible realm to light. 
 
 In the senses the child's soul lies open. 
 
 Nurture the senses aright, and you may se- 
 curely hope that your child will later escape 
 much pain and suffering. 
 
 Through such nurture, moreover, he is pre- 
 pared for clearness and joy of soul. 
 
 For in all that Nature declares to us we may 
 find traces of the fatherly love of God. 
 
 You must early awaken in the child the tend- 
 ency to seek the inner in the outer. 
 
 If the child finds this connection (i. e., the con- 
 nection between the inner and outer, between the 
 seen and temporal and the unseen and eternal) he 
 will thereby break for himself a path towards the 
 goal of life. 
 
 For he to whom Nature announces a law from 
 God will find in his own soul the peace of God. 
 
 Flower Song." 
 
 Early give your child experience of the fact 
 that in all living things there is revealed an 
 essence which is struggling towards existence. 
 Thus, in each plant one distinctive type of life 
 
294: MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 is expressed alike in form, colour, and fragrance, 
 because one energy brought into existence these 
 several qualities. 
 
 Tick! Tack! 
 
 Each thing prospers only when in all its do- 
 ings it keeps true time. 
 
 Therefore, if you would have your child thrive, 
 give him an orderly life and an orderly environ- 
 ment. 
 
 He who finds order repulsive loses many joys. 
 
 Therefore, mother, win your child to love 
 order. 
 
 Order is surely a great boon to the child. 
 
 Mowing Grass. 
 
 Whatever you may be doing for or with your 
 child, see to it that you remain in the unity of 
 life. 
 
 Do nothing unrelatedly with your child. Other- 
 wise you may easily render him incapable of edu- 
 cation. 
 
 How my meaning is to be understood you will 
 learn from this little game of Mowing Grass. 
 
 Beckoning the Chickens. 
 
 What is more charming than the baby's little 
 trick of beckoning with his tiny finger ? 
 
 It is the expression of life's living feeling 
 that it is not alone in life. 
 
NOTE V. 295 
 
 Beckoning the Pigeons. 
 
 The mother sees in baby's eye what gives him 
 delight. 
 
 What the child darkly and dimly feels, the 
 mother tenderly and thoughtfully nurtures. 
 
 The Fish in the Bkook. 
 
 Thither turn the child's eye, where active life 
 is found. 
 
 When such active life is in a clear transparent 
 element, the child's heart swells with waves of 
 joy. 
 
 Mother, seek to cherish and preserve the feel- 
 ing whence springs delight in the fresh and clear. 
 
 The Target. 
 
 However meaningless this play may seem, 
 there is latent in it more than one might imagine. 
 
 It is like the rough gem which only needs to 
 be cut and polished in order to delight the eye 
 with rainbow colours. 
 
 It points to the truth, that distinct and even 
 widely separated objects may come together in a 
 harmonious unity. 
 
 Those who love to behold truth wreathed in 
 play will discover in this game many other mean- 
 ings. 
 
 The young child's soul is stirred with pre- 
 sentiments of these deeper meanings of play. 
 Such presentiments break for him a path towards 
 insight. 
 
 The fruition of activity is a living whole. 
 
296 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Work should have its due wage. Nothing is 
 arbitrary: facts reciprocally determine each 
 other. 
 
 Proportion is ever striving to manifest itself 
 in and through all things. 
 
 Help your child in feeling to apprehend these 
 truths, and he will not fail to exhibit measure and 
 proportion in his life. 
 
 Pat-a-cake. 
 
 Can it be that a high import is latent even in 
 Pat-a-cake ? 
 
 Yes, indeed, meaning lies hid therein. 
 
 Willingly must each one do his part at the 
 right time. 
 
 Only 'thus can the joint work succeed. 
 
 The Bird's Nest. 
 
 To behold in a symbolic picture the love of 
 children for their mother delights the child. 
 
 Would you bless yoirr child, renew this pic- 
 ture often. 
 
 By such renewal, what is true in life will be- 
 come clear to his heart. 
 
 The Flower Basket. 
 
 Seek to give outward form to the feelings 
 which stir the child's heart. 
 
 Even the child's love may fade and die if it be 
 not cherished. 
 
NOTE V. 297 
 
 The Pigeon House. 
 
 What the child feels iu his heart he gladly 
 expresses in play. 
 
 As pigeons love a distant flight, the child loves 
 to go away from home. As pigeons fly home, the 
 child soon turns his glance homeward. 
 
 In the home let him find nurture. 
 
 Teach him to weave into a single glowing 
 wreath his many detached experiences. 
 
 A story may bind together that which has 
 been found apart. 
 
 Thus, binding together detached experiences, 
 life becomes a living whole. 
 
 Naming the Fingers. 
 
 Teach your child early to know the different 
 members of his body. 
 
 Teach him to name them distinctly. 
 
 Teach him still more carefully to use them 
 aright, so that when he becomes capable of pro- 
 ductive activity, the objects he produces may have 
 real worth. 
 
 The Greeting. 
 
 The child begins to be conscious of his differ- 
 ent limbs. 
 
 Therefore he loves to play with his hands and 
 fingers. 
 
 Mother love responds to this indication. 
 
 Through such play the spirit shows that it is 
 awaking. 
 
 What stirs darkly in the child the mother 
 nurtures with care. 
 21 
 
298 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 The Family. 
 
 Very early in liis life tlie child has prescience 
 of the fact that many different things may be 
 one whole. 
 
 Therefore the mother diligently teaches him 
 to know the members of the family circle. 
 
 Numbering the Fingers. 
 
 Man does not appreciate how great is the art 
 of counting. 
 
 He scarcely suspects the magnitude of his 
 achievement in making himself at home in space. 
 
 In its higher sense, correct counting teaches 
 us to choose what is good and to avoid what is 
 evil. 
 
 Hence it gives us true joys. 
 
 The Finger Piano. 
 
 What the child's eye sees his heart would fain 
 hear. 
 
 Many things speak to man which the outer 
 ear cannot hear. 
 
 If you would increase the joy of life give the 
 child an early prescience of this truth. 
 
 Happy Brothers and Sisters. 
 
 When the child folds his little hands and 
 seems ready for sleep, then, mother, feel it deeply 
 that One is watching while all things sleep in the 
 quiet night. 
 
 Believe that through the good you think you 
 are leading yonr child to the good. 
 
NOTE V. 299 
 
 Nothing better can j-ou give your child than 
 the assurance that in the One True Life he also 
 lives. 
 
 The Children on the Tower. 
 
 Bind into a beautiful whole all that you have 
 played singly with your child. 
 
 It rejoices us to behold a child at play. It re- 
 joices us still more to watch a group of playing 
 children. 
 
 A single flower delights the child, but he finds 
 greater pleasure in the variegated wreath. 
 
 From such experiences the child may win a 
 presentiment of the truth that the least thing 
 belongs to the great whole. 
 
 The Little Boy and the Moon. 
 
 Why does the young child feel so intimately 
 related to things far off in space ? 
 
 Why does he so ardently desire contact and 
 union with what is distant ? 
 
 Mother, what shall we learn from these feel- 
 ings of the child ? How shall they teach us not 
 to hinder, but help his developing life ? 
 
 Let our endeavour be to help him find the 
 inner unity before he loses the outer, so that as 
 objects retreat in space they may approach his 
 spirit. 
 
 Through such fostering care let us make for 
 the child a ladder over which he may securely 
 climb towards spiritual union with Nature. 
 
 Disturb not your little one's blessed dream of 
 unity with the great World-whole — that dream 
 in which he stretches forth his hand to grasp the 
 
300 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 heavenly lights — that dream in which he knows 
 of no barrier between himself and heaven. 
 
 The Little Maiden and the Stars. 
 
 With whatever the child's heart is full he fills 
 his environment^ and all life is to him a picture 
 of his soul. 
 
 Hence he delights to impute to all objects 
 human relationships. 
 
 Parents, if you wish your child when older to 
 heed your loving teaching do not interfere with 
 this tendency of childhood. 
 
 Your children will be devoutly active just in 
 proportion as their hearts are penetrated by the 
 feeling that the loving, creative throes of Spirit 
 are the source of all the activity which struggles 
 for self-expression in Nature, and whose faithful 
 and gentle working is manifested throughout 
 Nature. 
 
 Because they feel it to be spiritual, children 
 are at one with life. Let life give back to them 
 love for love. 
 
 The Light-bird. 
 
 The mother speaks to her child : " My darling, 
 always remember that you must not grasp every- 
 thing you see." 
 
 The Hare. 
 
 Though light illuminate the white wall, it can 
 make no picture upon it. 
 
 But let the skilful hand intervene between 
 the light and the wall, and lo! a picture which 
 delights the baby's heart. 
 
NOTE V. 301 
 
 Exercise in play your child's cre.itive power, 
 in order that, united with the power of the Eter- 
 nal Light, it may turn the shadows of life into 
 beautiful pictures. 
 
 The Wolf and the Wild Pig. 
 
 The child loves to see pictures of objects with 
 which he is familiar. 
 
 Even pictures of a wolf or a pig give him 
 pleasure. 
 
 The young child curiously observes the ways 
 of animals. 
 
 Mother, see to it that through his curiosity 
 his purity of soul receive no stain. 
 
 The Little Window. , 
 
 Why is it that the child loves to look through 
 the window pane at the bright light ? * 
 
 May it not be because out of clearness (or 
 purity) blossoms a beautiful life ? 
 
 Mother, strive to surround your child with 
 clear, pure life. 
 
 The Window. 
 
 Gently nurture the child's obscure presenti- 
 ment of a great life at one with itself. 
 
 Help him to make a secure pathway through 
 feeling to the conviction that he is himself a 
 member of, or participant in, this one life. 
 
 Help him to behold the inner in the outer, and 
 to trust in the inner and not the outer. 
 
 * Proebel is thinking of the small old-fashioned panes. See 
 picture and commentary. 
 
302 JJOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Teach him to feel that even things which are 
 farthest apart in space are inwardly one, because 
 they participate in one life. 
 
 Stir his soul with a premonition of the fact 
 that each thing and all things speak to man, 
 though their speech is inaudible to the outer ear, 
 and create in him the lively faith that he who 
 understands aright this symbolic language will 
 pursue his life course with peace and joy. 
 
 The Charcoal Burner. 
 
 Mother, early teach your child that much may 
 be done and many things may be made with few 
 resources. 
 
 Teach him how unwieldy matter may be mas- 
 tered ; help him to understand that humble and 
 apparently insignificant callings imply aptitudes 
 and skill. 
 
 The Carpenter. 
 
 Whatever the child sees done by others calls 
 forth something in himself. 
 
 Therefore seek through symbolic suggestion 
 to lead him with clearness from the sensible to 
 the spiritual. 
 
 The Bridge. 
 
 Let the child discover in play how to unite 
 separated things. 
 
 Give him hints of the fact that human power 
 is able to find or make connections even where 
 the obstacles to union seem insuperable, and 
 separation appears to be an invincible fact. 
 
NOTE V. 303 
 
 The Farmyard Gate. 
 
 Early teach your child through play to guard 
 that which is dear to him from the danger of 
 loss. 
 
 He will not understand the truth you seek to 
 hint to him through your playful devices. 
 
 Nevertheless, the seed sown in his heart will 
 germinate and grow, and its fruit, though long in 
 ripening, will be sure to come. 
 
 The Little Gardener. 
 
 Would you develop in your child the love of 
 nurture ? 
 
 Give him something to nourish. 
 
 Would you prepare him for the higher and 
 more spiritual forms of nurture ? 
 
 Grant him, wherever you can, the joy which 
 comes of cherishing life. 
 
 The Wheelwright. 
 
 The child sees with delight in how many ways 
 man can use his hands. 
 
 The Joiner. 
 
 That each thing has a speech of its own does 
 not escape the notice of the child. 
 
 But what is easily apprehended is often not 
 appreciated. 
 
 Therefore, parents, place due emphasis on this 
 important truth. 
 
304 mother play. 
 
 The Knights and the Good Child. 
 
 A still presentiment lies hid within the soul 
 of the child that he is not alone in life. 
 
 Therefore he listens eagerly to what others 
 say of him. 
 
 Mother, when you notice that your child be- 
 gins to be attentive to what others say of him it 
 behooves you to be watchful and careful. 
 
 He has mounted to a new plane of life. 
 
 He has begun to hear and heed the true call of 
 life. 
 
 Sacredly guard his simplicity and purity of 
 soul. 
 
 Protect him from the illusion of false appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Teach him not to rest in mere outward show. 
 Help him earnestly to strive for and win inward 
 excellence.* 
 
 The Knights and the Bad Child. 
 
 Break for your child a path towards the high- 
 est happiness of life by teaching him that all men 
 are attracted by what is good, and that the good 
 flee from what is evil. 
 
 * The thought in this motto is that only through the recog- 
 nition of the good by others can the child learn to know the 
 good. Proebel does not bid the mother teach her child to dis- 
 criminate between true and false praise. He appeals to her to 
 protect the child from false praise and by wise praise teach him 
 to recognize and love the good. 
 
NOTE V. 305 
 
 The Knights and the Mother. 
 
 Let your child early have the experience that 
 what is good must be protected. 
 
 Let his heart be rejoiced by the knowledge 
 that you value and guard what is good. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 
 Why does your child delight in Hide and 
 Seek? 
 
 In the dawning sense of personality lies the 
 secret of his joy. 
 
 He begins to recognise himself when he hears 
 his name called. 
 
 When, therefore, he begins to love hiding 
 games he has attained a new stage of develop- 
 ment. 
 
 From this time forward you must increase 
 your loving care, for upon this higher plane of 
 development he is confronted with new dan- 
 gers. 
 
 Let your effort be to awaken thoughtfulness, 
 and to stir ideals of modesty ; for if the roots of 
 his life be pure and deliberate deeds, he will 
 never feel the impulse to hide from you anything 
 he does. 
 
 Cuckoo. 
 
 What the piother's cuckoo call is to the young 
 child the call of conscience is to the child of larger 
 growth. 
 
 Hearing and heeding the gentle voice, the 
 child awakens to the sense of community, and 
 knows that his is no isolated life. 
 
306 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Joyfully, thenceforward, will conscience dwell 
 with him, a beautiful mediator between himself 
 and the Universal and Divine. 
 
 The Toyman and the Maiden. 
 
 The child is rejoiced by the toj^man's wares. 
 The mother rejoices in her child. 
 
 The Toyman and the Little Boy. 
 
 The toyman skilfully displays his wares. 
 
 The child will be attracted by this display, 
 and through toys may be guided by a wise love 
 towards what is good. 
 
 The Church. 
 
 Wherever there is harmony in the manifold, 
 and especially where such harmony is expressed 
 in forms and tones, thither turns the child's soul 
 with prescient yearning. 
 
 Parents, fail not to cherish this attraction. 
 
 Above all, help your loved child early to a 
 prescience of the truth, that a high aspiration 
 unites all souls. 
 
 To break a path towards the purest joy of life 
 is not so difficult as you may suppose. But the 
 truth whence such joy springs must live in you, 
 and be the soul of all you do. 
 
 By stirring the consciousness of this selfsame 
 truth in your child, you will give him the highest 
 and most precious of all gifts — a gift which will 
 remain in his soul a protective power, of which 
 he cannot be robbed; a gift through which he 
 
NOTE V. 307 
 
 will become at one with himself, in heart and in- 
 tellect. 
 
 Parents, inspire your child with this precious 
 faith, and he will bless you for it so long as he 
 lives. 
 
 Think not he is too young to feel such faith. 
 A magnet is hidden in the depths of his son], 
 which points him ever towards the unity of liie, 
 and by its repulsion shows him that all seeming 
 isolation is illusion. 
 
 If you desire to bind him to you, let your own 
 union with the One shine through all you do. 
 
 The Little Artist. 
 
 How insignificant, how almost nonexistent is 
 the young child's productive power ! 
 
 Yet, mother, in least things dwells the power 
 which creates greatest things. 
 
 Whatever becomes, however immeasurably 
 great, must have an apparently insignificant be- 
 ginning. 
 
 From life imperceptible, hidden in the womb 
 of the great Whole, all things proceed. 
 
 Therefore is God so godlike, great ! 
 
 From nothing God called forth the torrents 
 whose roar deafens your ear. 
 
 From nothing he called forth the celestial 
 lights. 
 
 Has he not said : " Be faithful in the least " ? 
 And will you ignore the appeal of the least in 
 your child ? 
 
 Do you imagine that in the child alone small 
 powers are insignificant ? 
 
308 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 Believe it not ; but let your most earnest effort 
 be to nurture your child's almost imperceptible 
 powers.* 
 
 * Students will hare observed that the original mottoes are 
 printed above the pictures. As The Child and Moon, The Wild 
 Pig, and The Garden Gate lacked mottoes, the space above 
 each of these pictures has been filled by the poem for the child. 
 Owing to lack of space, several mottoes have been given only 
 in part. These are here printed in full. 
 
 Scr tieinc ^nabc unb itt Wtonb. 
 
 aiSarum fdjcincn Xtnje, in bcm SRaume fern, 
 
 Slitfnng^ wo^I bcm fletncn fiinb fo innig na\) ? — 
 
 SKidrum wiinf^l, crfc^nt ba« fllcinc »ol)l fo gem, 
 
 Tia^ bai gcrne j«r SJereiit'gung »dre ba? 
 
 3Sai mag, SRutter, mii wo^l biep »om Sinbe le^ren ? — 
 
 Saf wiv fein gntfaltcn forbcrn unb nii^t florcn. 
 
 Sag, eb' fid) bie Binge in bcm 5iaume con i^m ftinbcn, 
 
 g« bie gtn'gung jwifdjen \iS) nnb tf)ncn mbge finbcn ; 
 
 3)a§ bie innre Einigung ju pflegen, ju erfcnnen, 
 
 g^c (iufiErlid) bie 3)inge fid) »om Stnbe trcnnen. 
 
 Snji buvd) fold)' 33cnd)tcn «n« bcm ^nb bevcitcn 
 
 Sine fcftc Cciter, fid)er fortjufc^rciten. — 
 
 2)nrum ftijit ba« .Hinblein nic^t in feincm fiipcn Irnumc, 
 
 ©id) wit 3W(m Stn« ju fiif)rn im grogcn SBeltcnrfliimc ; 
 
 SBo '« nod) fio^ ben 3lrm entgcgenftreift bcm .giimmcISIii^t, 
 
 SBo '* nod) fctnc Sc^ranfe fcnnt, 
 
 lie e^ loon bem .^immcl trennt; 
 ©rum in bicfcm fel'gcn J:tnume flort ba« Sinblein ntd)t. 
 
 ©aS ianm jwciiaftvigc S5tdb(iljcn unb bie ©tcrnc. 
 
 SCft3 au^ nut immer baa fiinbc^en nmgibt, 
 
 3Rcnfd)Ud) SBerMttniB in aUem ti licfct ; 
 
 SBoson fcin ^txiit/tn ti fiiMenb erfiiUt, 
 
 Sason tfl tt)m au(| bai Ceben ein ®i[b. 
 Eltcrn, wotlct ja bei Stnbe^ Sinn nic^t fibren, 
 ©oil ci fiiiifttg Surer Siebc Ce^re pren. 
 
NOTE VI. 309 
 
 NOTE VI (See page 98). 
 
 In the rhj^mes here given in prose translatiou, 
 the child is supposed to be speaking to the flowers. 
 Manifestly, however, the poem is intended for the 
 mother, and exjDresses feelings which stir in the 
 unconscious depths of the child's soul. 
 
 "Dear flowers, you teach me what is good, and 
 warn me of what is evil. 
 
 Scnn niir bfiburd) wtrb iai ^anbeln t^nen widjtig ; 
 2}iibuv(J) wcrten Sinber einjig IciicitStu^ttg, 
 SBenn fie flnr unb innig baS (SJefii^l burdjbringt, 
 3Bai in nllem jltU mit flraft [)cr»or fi^ vingt : 
 aB(i3 in allem \ni, boc^ treu fic wirfen feticn, 
 'Lai fei tmi ®eiftc« liebenb fc^affcnb fficljcn. 
 Snntg einig fdjaucn pe barum ina Ceticn, 
 Snn'ge 8ic6e foil eS i|ncn wiebergebcn. 
 
 ©OS Scnfter. 
 
 9)flege lei* iei Siniei bunfteS Sl^nen, 
 
 ©ap ein in fi^ einig Seben fei ; 
 5W(ii$e ft^evem Oefii^e ffla|ncn, 
 
 S)a§ ti felbjl son i^m ein ®lieb ja fci. 
 SJJac^e ti im Supern Snn'reS fc^ciucn, 
 Sluf bai Snn're, ni(^t auf Su§'tcS tvauen. 
 Sag eS fiijien, wa* and) wcit getrennt evfdjcine, 
 3n fi(^ boc^ ein innig einig Ceben cine, 
 Unb bcip jebe*, wenn nuc^ Vixiax nti^t, 
 3« bem SRenfcbtn boc^ fmnbilblic^ fptid)! : 
 ©all wer biefe ©prac^e rcd)t »cr|le()t, 
 griebig, freubig burd) iai Ceben ge^t. 
 
 £ird)ent6i'ir mit ^cnftcr. 
 
 SBillfi 3)u nun 15ein Sinb 2)ir innig cinen, 
 
 £a9 in allein 2)ein£ Ein'gung mit bem Einigcn burdjfdjcincn. 
 
310 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 " My heart beats with joy when you bend to- 
 wards me, and show me all that you hide in your 
 glowing cups. 
 
 " I know that you long to give me everything 
 which can foster my life, protect me from danger, 
 guard my innocence of soul. 
 
 " Let me know more than your names. 
 
 " Teach me also your language. Help me to 
 understand what you say in colour, in form, and 
 in the fragrance with which you fill the air. 
 
 " Ah ! I know what you are saying. ' Love 
 the truth. Avoid the pleasures which bring 
 forth pain.' 
 
 " I know that you wish to exercise all my 
 
 ®cr ficinc 3ctcl)»ef. 
 
 t)s>i) wu nennt' ii) aW iit f c^ b n e n S ii i$ c n , 
 2)ie litem flinbd)en }etij)nenb fdjon tcittn mac^en ? — 
 SBa« Entjlc()t, }»« StUca wicber fci)Winbct, 
 S)t>(^ bie Si^nffen^-flvaft fid) i^m vnbinhct. 
 
 * 
 „3Benn J)ein fitnb son bcm, wai er fic^ fc^uf, 
 
 3lKc^ nur wenig urn fK^ ^er evfd)nut, 
 $at '« bcc^, folgenb fdncm £dwffcn8«S(iuf, 
 Etiie rctd)e Sffidl in fid) Evtaut." 
 
 In the original these lines are printed at the end of the 
 poem for the child. They are, however, intended for the mother. 
 They may be translated as follows : 
 
 " But how shall I name all the pretty things my child can 
 make. What he produces will disappear, but by producing it 
 he increases his creative power." 
 
 Mother, though your child preserves externally but little of 
 what he has made, he has by following his creative impulse 
 built a world within himself. 
 
NOTE VI. 311 
 
 senses, so that I may learn to recognise and love 
 the good. 
 
 " I know that you desire to strengthen my will, 
 so that my deeds may be like yours — i. e., in accord 
 with my nature and destiny. 
 
 '■ Dear flowers, how small soever you may be, 
 in each one of you an angel dwells. Or, rather, 
 you yourselves are little angels, and having you 
 I am never alone. 
 
 " You long to touch my heart. You wish to 
 lead me to the Father who through his love called 
 both you and me into being. 
 
 " Something else you do for me. You let me 
 gather you and give you to my dear parents. 
 
 " You are glad to fade and die, in order to let 
 me have the joy of giving back love for love. 
 
 " Surely in you is pictured the love of parents, 
 who are always giving themselves to their little 
 children. 
 
 " Is there any mysterj"- you cannot explain ? I 
 think not. Every question we little children ask, 
 you dear flowers can answer. 
 
 "Never can I tell all the good things Love 
 teaches me through you. But I can listen to her 
 voice and heed her lessons. 
 
 "Never will I break your stalks in wanton 
 play. Should I do so, thorns of remorse would 
 pierce my heart." 
 
312 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 Closing Thoughts. 
 
 Prose translation of Froebel's poem printed in the original 
 of Mother Play after the Songs and Mottoes : 
 
 Let us now weave our single flowers into one 
 fragrant wreath. 
 
 Let us bind our isolated plays into one living 
 whole. 
 
 Let us ask ourselves what our little child has 
 gained from his plays. 
 
 Let us furthermore make clear to our minds 
 the truths which we ourselves have come to rec- 
 ognise through play. 
 
 Finally, let us seek to apprehend the import 
 of these truths and their relationship to the life 
 within and without us. 
 
 If we desire to bless the child with a wise 
 nurture, if we wish to guide him towards the 
 true goal of life, if we aspire to prepare him for 
 life-unity and harmony, we must from time to 
 time cast a retrospective glance at our own pro- 
 cedure. 
 
 He who does not look backward is unable to 
 move forward with assurance and safety. 
 
 Therefore let the wreath appear which shall 
 bind in one whole our separate flowers. 
 
NOTE VII. 313 
 
 II. 
 
 Life and its forces first stirred within the 
 baby. He moved his limbs (Play with the 
 Limbs). 
 
 Through his senses he sucked food for his 
 soul (Taste and Flower Songs). 
 
 He learned to know objects and their quali- 
 ties even before he was able to name them. 
 
 He tried in different ways to bring distant 
 things near him, and to remove near things from 
 him, so that he might inwardly apprehend them 
 (Falling! Falling! Calling Chickens, Fishes, Child 
 and Moon, Boy and Moon). 
 
 III. 
 
 Next the child tried to join together separated 
 things, and to find some tie between differing 
 things (Target, Finger Songs, Family, Grass- 
 mowing, Pat-a-cake, Carpenter, etc.). 
 
 He began to distinguish himself from others, 
 to appropriate things which were pleasant to him, 
 and to repel and avoid things unpleasant. In his 
 plays he revealed a dawning self- consciousness 
 (Light Songs). 
 
 He learned to seek for causes and energies, 
 and to distinguish between grounds and conse- 
 quences (Weather-vane, Bird's Nest, Trade Songs, 
 etc.). 
 
 He showed traces of thought, power to draw 
 conclusions, ability to discriminate between many 
 different objects and to choose and appropriate 
 22 
 
314: MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 those he liked (Toyman and Maiden, Toyman 
 and Boy). 
 
 He began to relate the words and deeds of 
 others to himself (Knights), and to order all his 
 separate experiences into a little world of his own 
 making (Children on the Tower, Little Artist). 
 
 IV. 
 
 Through a nurture responsive to these indica- 
 tions and re-enforced by some inevitable stripes 
 and pain the child will learn the great lesson of 
 life — the lesson that he cannot be permitted to 
 indulge in arbitrary caprice — the lesson that he 
 is both a free being and a dependent being. In a 
 word, he will come to understand that a great 
 Power reigns in the universe, and that this great 
 Power gives and creates true freedom. 
 
 With premonition of this truth the child be- 
 gins to care for what his elders think of him 
 (Songs of the Knights). When he attains this 
 stage of development, then, mother, it is in your 
 power to lead him in the path of right. You may 
 allure him to so love the good that by self-impul- 
 sion he will turn away even from evil thought s. 
 A new power or organ is sprouting within him. 
 It seems at times like a voice, at times like an 
 ear. It teaches him what is right and good. It 
 warns him to avoid the bad. Through this ger- 
 minating power you may incline him, if you will, 
 towards all that is pure and righteous. Teach 
 him to consider and follow what is right in his 
 own deeds. Teach him to recognise and honour 
 the good in others (Knights, Hide and Seek, 
 
NOTE VII. 315 
 
 Cuckoo). By such "watchful guidance you may 
 help him to love, revere, and obey this inner 
 power, even before he knows its name. You 
 may also teach him to love its manifestations in 
 others. When you have brought your child to 
 the point that of himself he shuns the base and 
 ignoble, of himself inclines toivards the pure and 
 good — yea, feels that purity and goodness are the 
 very life of life — then, and not till then, may you 
 point out to him through clear and precise pre- 
 cepts how he may attain the goal of human ex- 
 istence. 
 
 V. 
 
 And now, at last, dear mother, ask yourself 
 what great insights have grown clear to you 
 through your play with your child and what 
 inward power you have won. 
 
 Have you not learned the unity and whole- 
 ness of man's being ? 
 
 Have you not beheld your own inmost being 
 reflected in that of your child ? 
 
 Have you not come to realise through his de- 
 veloping life how out of imperfection you too are 
 striving and growing towards the perfect ? 
 
 Only by pressing through darkness towards 
 the light can that which is highest be won. Man 
 carries within him the unity of life. This life- 
 unity is an. impelling force. To man is given the 
 power to cherish and nurture it. No obstacles 
 and no dangers shall deter him from making 
 actual this inwardly impelling ideal. 
 
316 MOTHER PLAY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So much you have learned of yourself. And 
 now what have you learned about the outer 
 world ? Have you not found that things seem- 
 ingly different are inwardly one ? Have you not 
 learned that all separation exists in and for 
 union ? Has it not become clear to you that all 
 things are related ; that each thing helps all 
 things, and is in turn helped by all ? And re- 
 ciprocal relation — does it not imply an inde- 
 pendent all-including whole ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hear the conclusion of the whole matter : In 
 all things works one creative life, because the 
 life of all things proceeds from one God. 
 
 NOTE VIII (See page 107). 
 
 The following sentences were thoughtlessly 
 omitted at end of commentary on Mowing Grass : 
 
 " Now, mother, it is clear to me why the two 
 children sitting under the trees seem so sunk in 
 thought. May the truths which the trees express 
 never echo from their own experience through 
 their hearts! Mother, mother, may you never 
 need to fear anything of this kind for your chil- 
 dren! Happy boy mowing so vigorously ; sturdy 
 little maiden merrily following the hay-cart, it 
 will surely not happen to you." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 ^-^ York. With 6 full-page Illustrations by B. West Clinedinst. 
 
 l2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 A Etory like this comes home to most American youth, for it tells how a boy made 
 his o,vn way. It points out a path, but Mr. btoddard is too skilled a story-teller ever 
 ^o pose as a morahst, and the actio.! of his tale moves on constantly while the interest 
 of his pictures and incidents of New York life is unceasing. 
 
 r\N THE OLD FRONTIER. With lo full-page 
 
 ^^ Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A capital story of life in the middle of the last century. . , . The characters intro- 
 duced really live and talk, and the story recommends itself not only tu boys and girls 
 but to their parents." — Neiv York Times. 
 
 " An exciting narrative This tale, which relates to the last raids of the Iroquois, 
 is as stirring as the best of those which have come from the author's pen."—./ hiiadel- 
 phia Evening Bulletin. 
 
 HE BATTLE OF NEW YORLC. With n full- 
 page Illustrations and colored Fiontispiece. i2mo. Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 "Young people who are intsrestei in the ever- thrilling story of the great rebellion 
 will find in this romance a wonderfully graphic picture of New York in war time." — 
 Boston Traveller. 
 
 ■'The description of these terrible days and more awful nights is very animated." — 
 New York Evening Post. 
 
 T ITTLE SMOKE. A story of the Sioux Indians. 
 
 -^— ' With 12 full-page Illustrations by F. S. Dellenbaugh, por- 
 traits of Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, and other chiefs, and 72 head 
 and tail pieces representing the various implements and sur- 
 roundings of Indian life. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " It is not only a story of adventure, but the volume abounds in information con- 
 cerning tliis most powerful of remaining Indian tribes. The work of the author has 
 been well supplemented by the artist." — Boston Traveller. 
 
 " More elaborately illustrated than any juvenile work dealing with Indian life ever 
 published. ' ' — Ch u rchtnan. 
 
 ROWDED OUT O' CROFLELD. The story of a 
 
 country boy who fought his way to success in the great metrop- 
 olis. With 23 Illustrations by C. T. HiLL. i2mo. Cloth, 
 
 $1,50. 
 
 "There are few writers who know how to meet the tastes and needs of boys better 
 than does William O. Stoddard. This excellent story teaches bo)'s to be men, not 
 prigs or Indian hunters. If our boys would read more such books, and less oi the 
 blood-and-thunder order, it would be rare good fortune." — Detroit Free Press. 
 
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 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BOOKS BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. 
 HE PATRIOT SCHOOLMASTER. A Tale of 
 
 the Minute Men and the Sons of Liberty. With b full-page 
 
 Illustrations by H. Winthrop Peirce. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 In this stirring historical romance the stately figure of Samuel Adams 
 succeeds Lincoln and Washington in previous books as the central figures, 
 and we live through the dramas of Boston's cccupancy by the British, and 
 Bunker Hill and Lexington. It is a story infused with noble patriotism, and 
 most vividly told. 
 
 'N THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN. A Story of 
 the Black Hawk War and the Tunker Schoolmaster. With 
 12 Illustrations and colored Frontispiece. l2mo. Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 " There is great fascination in these glimpses of Lincoln's early lire, and the artist's 
 accompanying pictures are very clever and welcome." — Brcoklyii limes. 
 
 ''The author presents facts in a most attractive framewoik of fiction, and imbues 
 the whole with his peculiar humor. The illustrrftions are numerous and of more than 
 usual excellence."— iV^zt/ Haven Palladium. 
 
 " One of the best stories for youthful readers that has ever been written.'' — Boston 
 Budget. 
 
 " A work which should be put into the hands of every American boy.'' — Philadel- 
 phia Item. 
 
 HE BO YS OF GREEN WA Y CO UR T. A Story 
 
 of the Early Years of Washington. With lo full-page Illus- 
 trations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Mr. Butterworth has written an excellent book, and one that young people will 
 find delightful xtsjdSxx^'' ^Boston Beacon. 
 
 " Skillfully combining fact and fiction, he has given us a story historically instruc- 
 tive and at the same time entertaining."— -ff£7j/(J« Transcript. 
 
 "The book is replete with picturesque incidents and legends of hunting exploits 
 and adventures, and the figure of young Washington is shown in a light which will be 
 sure to enlist the interest of young readers."— Chicago Herald. 
 
 " jVIr. Butterworth has made his story both absorbing in interest and valuable as a 
 teacher of history." — San trancisco Argonaut. 
 
 HE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE CO- 
 LUMBIA. With 13 full-page Illustrations by J. Carter 
 Beard, E. J. Austen, and others. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "This, book will charm all who turn its paces. There are few books of popular 
 informalion concerning the pioneer^ of the great Northwest, and this one is worthy of 
 sincere praise." — Seattle Post-InielUgencer. 
 
 " Mr. Butterworth always interests his young readers, and holds their attention 
 from first to last." — New York Independent. 
 
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 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 r\U TINGS AT ODD TIMES. By Charles C 
 
 ^-^ Abbott, author of " Days out of Doors " and " A Naturalist's 
 
 Rambles about Home." i6mo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 " A. charming little volume, literally alone with Nature, for it discusses seasons and 
 t'le fields, birds, eti., with the loving freedom of a naturalist born. Every page reads 
 like a sylvan poem; and for the lovers of the beautiful in uuiet outdoor and out-of- 
 tovn life, this beautifully bound and attractively printed little volume will prove a 
 companion and fiiend." — Rochester Union and Advertiser. 
 
 NATURALIST'S RAMBLES ABO UT HOME. 
 By Charles C. Abbott. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The home about which Dr. Abbott rambles is clearly the haunt of fowl and fish, 
 of animal and insect life ; and it is of the habits and nature of these that he discourses 
 pleasantly in this book. Summer and winter, mcrning and evening, he has been in 
 th; open air all the time on the alert for some new revelation of instinct, or feeling, 
 or character on the part of his neighbor creatures. Most that he sees and hears he 
 reporis agreeably to us, as it was no doubt delightful to himself. Books like this, 
 which are free from a'l the technicalities of science, but yet lack little that has scien- 
 tific value, are well suiied to the reading of the young. Their atmosphere is a healthy 
 o.ie for boys in particular to breathe." — Boston Trmiscript. 
 
 AYS OUT OF DOORS. By Charles C Abbott- 
 
 l2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " 'Days out of Doors' is a series of sketches of animal life by Charles C Abbott, 
 a naturalist whose graceful writings have entertained and instructed the public before 
 now. The essays and narratives in this book are grouped in twelve chapters, named 
 after the months of the year. Under 'January' the author talks of squirrels, musk- 
 rits, water-snakes, and the predatory animals that withstand the rigor of winter; 
 under ' February ' of frogs and herons, crows and blackbirds ; under ' March ' of gulls 
 and fishes and foxy sparrows; and so on appropriately, instructively, and diverting'y 
 tlirou^h the whjle twelve," — hew York S/in, 
 
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 ^HE PLAYTIME NATURALIST By Dr. J. E. 
 Taylor, F. L. S., editor of " Science Gossip." With 366 Illus- 
 trations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The work contains abundant evidence of the author's knowledge and enthusiapm, 
 and any boy who may read it carefnUy is sure 10 find something to attract him. The 
 style is clear and lively, and theie are many good illustrations." — Nature. 
 
 n-^HE ORIGIN OF FLORAL STRUCTURES 
 
 -* through Insects and other Agencies. By the Rev. George 
 Henslow, Professor of Botany, Queen's College. With nu- 
 merous Illustrations. i2rao. Cloth, Si-75- 
 
 "Much has been written on the structure of flowers, and it might seem almost 
 superfluous to attempt to say anything m re on the subject, but it is only within the 
 last few years that a new literature has sprung up, in which the authors have described 
 their observations and given their interpretations of the uses of floral mechanisms, more 
 especially in connection with the processes of fertilization." — Frojn httrodnctiofi. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 'HE GARDEN'S STORY ; or, Pleasures and 
 
 Trials of an Amateur Gardener. By George H. Ellwanger. 
 
 With Head and Tail Pieces by Rhcad. i2mo. Cloth, extra, 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 "Mr. EUwancer's instinct rarely errs in matters of ta^ste. He writes out of tl e 
 fullness of experimemal knowled. e, but his knowledge differs from that of many a 
 trained cultivator in that his skill in garden practice is guided by a refined aestheiic 
 sensibility, and his appreciation of what is beautiful in nature is healihy, hearty, and 
 catholic. His record of the garden year, as we have said, begins witn the earliest 
 violet, and it follows the season through until the witch-hazel is blossomiiig on the 
 border of the wintry woods. . . . This little book can not fail to give pleasure 10 all 
 who take a genuine interest in rural life." — l^eiv York Iribuiie. 
 
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 'HE OF J GIN OF CULTIVATED PLANTS. 
 
 By Alphonse de Candolle. i2mo. Cloth, $2.co. 
 
 '* Though a fact familiar to botanists, it is not generally known how great is the 
 unceriainty as to the origin of many of the most impcrtant cultivated plants. ... In 
 endeavoring to unravel the matter, a knowledge of botany, of geography, of geology, 
 of history, and of philosophy is required. By a combination of testimony derived fiom 
 these sources M. de Candolle has been enpbled to determine the botanical origin and 
 geographical source of the large proportion ofsiecies he deals with." — T/ie AtkefitFum, 
 
 n^HE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS. By T. F. This- 
 ^ ELTON Dyer, M. A. 121110. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A handsome and deeply interesting volume. ... In all respects the book is ex- 
 cellent, lis airang<ment is simple and intelligible, its style bright and allurirg. 
 . . . To all who seek an iniroduction to one of the irost attractive branches of folk- 
 lore, this delightful volume may be warmly commended. — I^oies and Queries. 
 
 -pLOWERS AND THELR PEDIGREES, By 
 -^ Grant Ai.lfn, author of "Vignettes of Nature," etc. Illus- 
 trated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "No vriter treats scientific subjects with sn much erse and charm of style as Mr. 
 Grant Allen. The study is a delightful one, and ihe took is fascinating to any cne 
 who has either love for flowers or curiosity about them." — Hartjord Covrarit. 
 
 " Any one with even a smattering of botanical knowledge, and with either a heart 
 or mind, must be charmed with this collection of essa^ %."—Lhicago Evening jfoumal. 
 
 7^HE GEOLOGICAL HISTORY OF PLANTS. 
 By Sir J. William Dawson, F. R. S. Illustrated. i2ir.o. 
 Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 "The (ibject of this work is to give, in a connected form, a summary of the develop- 
 ment of the vegetable kingdom in geological lime. To the geologist ar.d totanlst ihe 
 subject is one of importance with reference to their special pursuits, and one on which 
 it has not been easy to find any convenient manual of information. It is hoped that its 
 treatment in the present volume will also be found sufficiently simple and popular to be 
 attractive to the general reader." — From the Frefoce. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 "This work marks an epoch in the history-writIi:g 
 of this country." — S^. Louis Post-Dispatch. 
 
 COLONIAL COURT-HOUSE. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 1707. 
 
 "HE no USEHOLD HIS- 
 
 ORY OF THE UNITED 
 STA TES AND ITS PEOPLE. 
 For Young Americans. By Ed- 
 ward Eggleston. Richly illus- 
 trated with 350 Drawings, 75 Maps, 
 etc. Square 8vo. Cloth, $2.50, 
 
 FROM THE PREFACE. 
 The present work is meant, in the first instance, for the young:— not alone 
 for boys and ^irls. but for young" men and women who have yet to make 
 themselves familiar with the more important features of their country's 
 history. By a book for the young is meant one in which the author studies to 
 make his statements clear and explicit, in which curious and picturesque de- 
 tails are inserted, and in which the writer does not neglect such anecdotes as 
 lend the charm of a human and personal interest to the broader facts of the 
 nation's story. That history is often tiresome to the young is not so much 
 the fault of history as of a false method of writing by which one contrives 
 to relate events without sympathy or ima:^ination, without narrative connec- 
 tion or animation. The attempt to master \ague and general records of 
 kiln-dried facts is certain to beget in the ordinary reader a repulsion fr. m 
 the study of history— one of the very most impo.tant of all studies fcr its 
 widening influence on general culture. 
 
 "Fills a decided gap which has existed for 
 the past twenty years in American hisloricnl 
 HleratLire. 'I'he work is admirably planned 
 and executed, and will at once t-ike its place as 
 a standard record ol the life, growth, and de- 
 velopment of the nation. It is profusely and 
 beautifully illustrated." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 "Ihe book in its new dress makes a much 
 finer appearance than 
 before, and will be wel- 
 comed by older readers 
 as g'adly as its predeces- 
 sor was greeted by girls 
 
 an 1 boys. The lavish use the publishers have made of colored 
 pUtes, woodcuts, and photupraphic reproductions, gives an un- 
 wonted piquancy to the printed page, catching the eye as surely 
 as the text engages the mind."— iV^zf York Critic. 
 
 *'The author writes history as a story. It can 'never be 
 
 less thin that. The book will enlist the interest of young 
 
 peoole, enlighten their understanding, and by the glow of iis 
 
 statenients fix the great events of the country firmly in the 
 
 GENERAL PUTNAM, "^ind-" — S*^" Frauctsco Bulletin. 
 
 ind;an's trap. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO.. 72 Fifth Avenue 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 
 
 ~^HE STORY OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 By Elizabeth Eggleston Skelye, (.d- 
 itcd by Dr. Edward Eggleston. With lOo 
 Illustrations by Allcgra Eggleston. i2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 This book is the result of most extensive 
 investigations, which have been carefully veri- 
 fied by the eminent historian and novelist, Dr. 
 Eggleston. It is not too much to say thc.t the 
 whole world has been drawn upon for ma- 
 terial by the author and the artist. The fi-uits 
 of these investigations are presented in a popular, readable, always entertain- 
 ing form. While the book contains all the results of 
 modern inquiry offered in the bulkiest biographies, 
 the story is here condensed and the material selected 
 with a view to an always interesting narrative. To 
 a considerable extent the plan of both text and illus- 
 trations is hke that of Eggleston's " Household His- 
 tory of the United States." It is hardly necessary to 
 say more regarding the fitness of this volume for a 
 place in every Amorican private, pubHc, and school 
 library, ^ " '^ brief, popular, interesiinp, and yet 
 
 '*''-^ critical volume, just such as we should wi^h 
 to place in the hands of a young reader. 
 The authors of this volume have done their 
 best lo keep it on a high plane of accuracy 
 and conscientious work without losing sight 
 of their readers." — Neiv York hidefendet t. 
 " In some rdpects altogether the bc^t 
 bo'ik that the Columbus year has brought 
 out." — Rochesler Fo&t-bxpress. 
 
 "A simple story told 
 in a natural fashion, and 
 will be found far more 
 interesting than maiy 
 of the more ambit-ous 
 works on a similnr theme." — Ne'w York yournal of Cominerc. 
 
 " This is no ordinary work. It is pre-eminently a work of the 
 present time and of the future as well." — Boston Traveller. 
 
 "Mrs. Seeiye's book is pleasing in its_ general effect, and re- 
 veals tlie results of painstaking and conscientious study." — Neva 
 York Tribune. 
 
 " A very just account is given of Columbus, his failings being 
 ri<*ither concealed nor magnified, but his real greatness being niade 
 plain." — AVw York Exatniner. 
 
 "The Illustrations are particularly well chosen and neatly 
 executed, and they add to the general excellence of the volume." 
 — Nem York Times. 
 
 CATAPULT. 
 
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 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 'J^HE FAIRY-LAND OF SCIENCE. With 74 
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 "Deserves to take a permanent place in the llteratuie of youth." — London Times. 
 " So interesting that, having once opened the book, we do not know how to leave 
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 qrilROUGH MAGIC GLASSES, and other Lectures. 
 -* A Sequel to "The Fairy-Laud of Science." Illustrated. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Magician's Chamber hy Mooniighi. Aft Hotir wiih the Sun. 
 
 Magic Glasses and Hotu to Use Them. A n Evening with the Stars. 
 
 Fairy Rings and How They are Made. Little Beings fro-m a Miniature Ocean. 
 
 The Life-History cf Lichens and Mosses. The Dartmoor Ponies. 
 
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 The work forms a charming introduction to the study of zoology — the scie.ice of 
 
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 TJyrjNNERS IN LIFE'S RACE; or, The Great 
 
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 Cloth, gilt, $1.50. 
 
 '* We can conceive of no better gift-book than this volume. Miss Buckley has spared 
 
 no pains to incorporate in her book the latest resiiMs of scientific research. The I'lu-^- 
 
 trations in the book deserve the highest praise — they are numerous, accurate, and 
 
 striking." — Spectator, 
 
 SHORT HISTORY OF NATURAL SCI- 
 
 EyCE ; a?id of the Progress of Discovery from the Time of 
 the Greeks to the Present Time. New edition, revised and re- 
 arranged. With 77 Illustrations. i2nio. Cloth, $2.00. 
 
 " The work, though mainly intended for children and young persons, may be most 
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 of science.' " — fournal of Science. 
 
 ORAL TEACHINGS OF SCIENCE. i2mo. 
 
 Cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 "A little book that proves, with excellent clearness and force, how many and strik- 
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 OYS IN THE MOUNTAINS AND ON THE 
 
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 Illustrations, Square 8vo. Cloth, gilt side and back, $2.50. 
 
 " A. hand-^ome gift-book relating to travel, adventure, and field sports in the West." 
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 " Mr Rideing's book is intended for the edification of advanced young readers. It 
 mrrates the adventures of Ti)m Smart, Bob Edge, and Peter Small, in their travels 
 through the mountainous region of the West, principally in Colorado. The author was 
 a member of the Wheeler expedition, enga£;ed in surveying the Territories, and his 
 descriptions of scenery, mining life, the Indians, games, etc., are in a great measure 
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 OYS COASTWISE; or, All Along the Shore, By 
 
 AV. H. Rideing. Uniform with "Boys in the Mountains." 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. Illuminated boards, $1.75. 
 
 *' Fully equal to the best of the year's holiday books for boys. , . . In his present trip 
 the author takes them among scenes of the greatest Interest to all boys, whether resi- 
 dents on the coast or inland — along the wharves of the metropolis, aboard the pilot- 
 boats for a cruise, with a look at the great ocean steamers, among (he life-saving men, 
 coast wreckers and divers, and finally on a tour of inspection of lighthouses and light- 
 ships, and other interesting phases of nautical and coast life," — Christian Union. 
 
 'J^HE CRYSTAL HUNTERS, A Boy's Advent- 
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 of "In the King's Name," "Dick o* the Fens," etc. i2mo. 
 
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 " This is the boys' favorite author, and of the many books Mr. Fenn has written 
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 light in." — Christian at Work. 
 
 "English pluck and Swiss coolness are tested to the utmost in these perilous ex- 
 plorations amone the higher Alps, and quite as thrilling as any of the narrow escapes 
 is the account of the first breathless ascent of a real mountain-peak. It matters little lo 
 the reader whether the search fcr crystals is rewarded or not, so concerned does he be- 
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 By George Manville Fenn. With 6 full-page Illustrations. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "Who among the young story-reading public will not rejoice at the sight of the old 
 combination, so often proved admirable — a story by Manville Fenn, illustrated by 
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 breeziness and fun. It begins well and goes on better, and from the time Syd joins 
 his ship, exciting incidents follow each other in such rapid and brilliant succession that 
 nothing short of absolute compulsion would induce the reader to lay it down."— Xcwofew 
 yournal 0/ Education. 
 
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 New York; D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 NEW EDITION OF SPENCER'S ESSAYS. 
 
 SSA y S : Scientific^ Political^ and Speculative. By 
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 other works, including Seven New Essays. Three volumes 
 i2mo, 1,460 pages, with full Subject-Index of twenty-four pages 
 Cloth, $6.00. 
 
 OF VOLUME I. 
 
 The Social Organism. 
 
 The Origin of Animal Worship. 
 
 Morals and Moral Sentiments 
 
 The Comparative Psychology of Man. 
 
 Mr. Martineau on Evolution. 
 
 The Factors of Organic Evolution.* 
 
 CONTENTS 
 The Development Hypothesis. 
 Progress: its Law and Cause. 
 Transcendental Physiology. 
 The Neoular Hypothesis. 
 Illogical Geology. 
 Bain on the Emotions and the Wilt 
 
 CONTENTS OF 
 
 The Genesis of Science 
 
 The Classification of the Sciences. 
 
 Reasons for dissenting from the Phi- 
 losophy of M. Comte. 
 
 On Laws in General, and the Order 
 of their Discovery. 
 
 The Valuation of Evidence. 
 
 What is Electricity ? 
 
 Mill versus Hamilton — The Test of 
 Truth. 
 
 CONTENTS OF 
 
 Manners and Fashion. 
 Railway Morals and Railway 
 
 Policy. 
 The Morals of Trade. 
 Prison-Ethics. 
 The Ethics of Kant. 
 Absolute Political Ethics, 
 Over- Legislation. 
 Representative Government^ 
 
 What is it good for ? 
 
 * Also published separately, 
 t Also published separately. 
 
 \ Also published separately. 
 
 i2mo. 
 i2mo. 
 i2mo. 
 
 VOLUME n. 
 
 Replies to Criticisms. 
 
 Prof. Green's Explanations. 
 
 The Philosophy of Style. f 
 
 Use and Beauty. 
 
 The Sources of Architectural Types 
 
 Gracefulness. 
 
 Personal Beauty, 
 
 The Origin and Function of Music. 
 
 The Physiology of Laughter. 
 
 VOLUME IIL 
 
 State-Tampering with Money and 
 
 Banks 
 Parliamentary Reform : the Dangers 
 
 and the Safeguards. 
 " The Collective Wisdom." 
 Political Fetichism. 
 Specialized Administration. 
 From Freedom to Bondage. 
 The Americans.J 
 Index. 
 
 Cloth, 75 cents. 
 Cloth, 50 cents. 
 Paper, 10 cents. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 'HE SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY OF HER- 
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 per volume. The titles of the several volumes are as follows 
 
 (i.) FIRST PRINCIPLES. 
 
 I. The Unknowable. II. Laws of the Knowable. 
 
 (2.) THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. VoL I. 
 
 I. The Data of Biology. II. The Inductions of Biology. 
 
 III. The Evolution of Life. 
 <3.) THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. VoL II. 
 
 IV. Morphological Development. V. Physiological Development. 
 
 VI. Laws of Multiplication. 
 (4.) THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. I. 
 
 I. The Data of Psychology. III. General Synthesis. 
 
 II. The Inductions of Psychology. IV. Special Synthesis. 
 
 V. Physical Synthesis. 
 (5,) THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. II. 
 
 VI. Special Analysis. VIII. Congruities. 
 
 VII. General Analysis. IX. Corollaries. 
 
 (6.) THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. I. 
 
 I. The Data of Sociology. II. The Inductions of Sociology. 
 
 III. The Domestic Relations. 
 (7.) THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. II. 
 
 IV. Ceremonial Institutions. V. Political Institutions. 
 
 VI. Ecclesiastical Institutions. 
 
 (8.) THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. III. 
 
 * + * * 
 
 ^9.) THE PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS. Vol. I. 
 
 I. The Data of Ethics. ' II. The Inductions of Ethics. 
 
 III. The Ethics of Individual Life. 
 (10.) THE PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS. VoL II. 
 IV. The Ethics of Social Life; Justice. 
 V. The Ethics of Social Life : Negative Beneficence. 
 VI. The Ethics of Social Life: Positive Bceficence. 
 
 r\ESCRIPTJVE SOCIOLOGY. A Cyclopadia of 
 
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 and Grade of Human Society, Past and Present, Stationary and 
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 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 "J^HE CARE AND EEEDING OF CHILDREN. 
 
 -* A Catechism for the Use of Mothers and Children's Nttrses. By 
 
 L. Emmett Holt, M. D., Professor of Diseases of Children in 
 
 ' the New York Polyclinic, Attending Physician to the Babies' 
 
 Plospital, etc. i2mo. Cloth, 50 cents. 
 
 " The style of the Catechism is clear and simple, and it is the result of a long and 
 
 successful practice of an eminent physician in every line pertaining ro the heal h and 
 
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 Home yournal, 
 
 " The information contained in it is in the catecliism form, and is particularly lucid 
 in everything. An index makes it easy to turn to whatever is warned, and the work, 
 though small, bears the impress of careful thought as well as of authority.'" — Chicago 
 Times. 
 
 ^pHE MOTHERS MANUAL OF CHILDREN'S 
 i DISEASES. By Charles West, M. D., of the Royal College 
 of Physicians, London. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 " The title fully explains its character, and it is only necessary to say that it is 
 comprehensive, thorough, and learned, and fully adapted, in the character of its con- 
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 dren." — Boston Post. 
 
 "Dr. West is specially qualified to write on this Fubject. He was the founder of, 
 and formerly physician to, the hospital for sick children in London, and has made their 
 -.ufferings the study of his life."' — N, Y. Jo7irnal oj" Commerce. 
 
 y^HE MANAGEMENT OF INFANCY, Physio- 
 
 J- logical and Moral. Intended chiefly for the Use of Parents. 
 By Andrew Combe, M. D. Revised and edited by Sir James 
 Clark, K. C. B., M. D., F. R. S., Physician to the Queen. 
 First American from the tenth London edition. i2mo. Cloth, 
 
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 This valuable treatise enibraces a most comprehensive plan, the author's aim be- 
 ing tn avoid all dcscyifitions of disease, and to found his precepts at every possible 
 poult on well ascertained physiological piinciples. 
 
 7 7YGIENE FOR CHILDHOOD. Suggestions for 
 
 J- -* the Care of Children after the Period of Infancy to Completion 
 of Puberty. By FRA^XIS H. Rankin, M. D., President of the 
 Newport Medical Society. i2Tno. Cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 "The subject is one of universal importance, and Dr. Rankin has given it such an 
 cxamniation as can not fail to benefit his readers." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 " A thoughtfully prepared manual, giving concisely the results of extensive practi- 
 cal experience, and is manifestly the work of one with whom it was a conscientious 
 labor of love. The in5;tniction it Imparts is given in clear and simple language, ai;d no 
 point of essential importance regarding the health of children is passed by witliout full 
 consideratiun." — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 New York. D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
^'iniii'ii'i?iiii?SSi]i«13I? cononentaries of Friedric 
 
 on.J 1924 031 387 099