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and teaching method; what is set aside as the most common and insignificant appears to me often the most important, and it always seemed to me a mistake to leave a gap in what is original and fundamental. Yet I know well that by such a search into the hidden springs of action one may easily weary those who cannot yet see the whole picture clearly or comprehend the whole aim of the representation.

Contrary to the existing regulation, I was placed, by the position of my father as village minister, in the girl's school. Hence I received no place near pupils of my own age, but next the teacher, and was so brought near the largest pupils that I shared, when I could, their instruction, especially in two studies. At one time I read with them, and then I had to learn, instead of the above-mentioned Bible quotations, the sacred songs which were sung on Sundays in the church. There are two songs, especially, which shone forth like two clear stars in the dark and awful morning twilight: "Soar above, my heart and soul;" "It costeth much to be a Christ." These were songs of life to me. I found my little existence pictured therein, and the purport of them so penetrated my being that in later life I have often strengthened and encouraged myself by what then enriched my soul.

The domestic life of my father accorded perfectly with the school arrangement mentioned above. Although two divine services were held on Sunday, yet seldom was I allowed to miss one of these solemn occasions. I followed my father's discourse with great attention, partly because I believed I should find therein many references to his own ministerial, professional, and spiritual activity. I do not now find it immaterial that at divine service I sat apart from the congregation, in the vestry, because I was less distracted there.

I have mentioned before that my father belonged to the old orthodox school of theology; therefore the well-known, strong, highly-colored language predominated as well in sermon as in song, a language which I, in more ways than one, might denominate a stone language, because it requires a strong explanatory power to free the inner life therein contained from the outer covering. Yet, later, the developed power appeared too weak to influence the active life, the stirring, responsive strength of a simple, introspective young soul, one just unfolding itself-a mind asking everywhere for cause and connection, very often after long experiment, investigation and consideration.

Joy and Strength in Self-Activity.

Whenever the thing ardently sought was found, I experienced great joy. Among the circumstances under which I grew up, especially in my first childhood, external charms influenced me much. They were early an object of attentive observation to me. The result of this investigating and inquiring observation coming in my earliest boyhood, was very clear and marked, although directed not so much to words as to things. I realized that the passing influence of external charms gives nothing really lasting and satisfying to man, and that on this account they are not to be valued above conduct.

This result affected and determined my whole life, as this first consideration and comparison of the inner and outer world, and their interchangeability, is the key-note of my entire life since. Uninterrupted self-observation, selfreflection and self-education is the key to my life, early shown and continued to the later periods of it. To arouse, animate, awaken and strengthen man's joy in and power for working continually on his own education had been and remained the fundamental necessity of my educational work. All my efforts

and methods, as a teacher, are directed towards the awakening and fostering of this joy and strength, of this personality by which the human being first truly sets himself to work as a man.

The hard, unpleasant expressions of an orthodox theology I soon transformed in my imagination, to which, perhaps, two circumstances especially contributed. I heard the same expressions an indefinite number of times; for I lived also under the precepts of the confirmation instruction which my father imparted to his household. I heard the terms in the most different connections, whence finally the conception sprang up of itself in my soul. Secondly, I was frequently the silent witness of my father's earnest and rigid pastoral care; of the frequent interviews between him and the many people who visited the parsonage, to obtain counsel and instruction. I was thus again led from the outer to the inner world. Life, with its most secret impulses, and the words and opinion of my father thereupon, passed before my eyes, and I realized in this way things and words, deeds and professions, in their most vital connection. I saw the fragmentary and burdened, torn and dismembered life of man as it appeared in this collection of five thousand people to the observant eye of their earnest and resolute pastor.

Discordant Life-Harmony of Nature.

Matrimonial and family relations were often the subject of his admonitory and corrective conversation and remonstrances. The way in which my father spoke of this made me consider the subject as one of the most pressing and difficult for man, and, in my youth and innocence, I felt deep grief and pain that man alone among created things should pay the penalty of such a sexual difference that made it hard for him to do right.

I could find nothing to reconcile that within and without me which was absolutely adapted to my mind, heart and inner need. And, indeed, how could this be possible at my age, and in my position?

Just then my oldest brother, who lived away from home (like all my older brothers and sisters), came back for a time, and when I told him my delight in the purple threads of the hazel buds, he made me notice a similar sexual difference among flowers. Now my mind was satisfied; I learned that what had troubled me was a wide-spread arrangement throughout nature to which even the quiet, beautiful growths of flowers were subject. Henceforth, human and natural life, soul and flower existence, were inseparable in my eyes, and my hazel blossoms I see still, like angels that opened to me the great temple of nature. I received what I needed: in place of the church, a natural temple; in place of the Christian religion, the life of nature; in place of harmful, hating human life, a quiet, speechless plant life. Henceforth it seemed as if I had the clew of Ariadne, which would lead me through all the wrong and devious ways of life-and a life of more than thirty years with nature, often, it is true, falling back and clouded for great intervals-has taught me to know this, especially the plant and tree world, as a mirror; I might say, an emblem of man's life in its highest spiritual relations; so that I look upon it as one of the greatest and deepest conceptions of human life and spirit when in holy scripture the comparison of good and evil is drawn from a tree. Nature, as a whole-even the realms of crystals and stones-teaches us to discriminate good from evil; but, for me, not so powerfully, quietly, clearly and openly as the plant and flower kingdom.

I said my hazel blossoms furnished me Ariadne's thread. Much was thus

solved to me again and again in an entirely satisfactory way; for example, the first life experience of the first beings in Eden, and much that is connected with them.

Three crises of my inner life, which happened before my tenth year, I must bring out here before I turn to my outer life of this period. As folly, misconception and ignorance, even in the earliest epoch of the world, are presumed to have determined its ruin, so it happened in the time of which I now speak. My inner life was then very quiet. I said to myself, very determinedly and clearly, the human race will not leave the earth until it has reached so much perfection in this dwelling-place as can be reached on earth. The earth-nature, in the narrow sense-will not pass away until men have attained a perfect insight into the composition of the same. This thought often returned in different aspects to me; to it I often owed rest, firmness, perseverance and courage.

Reconcilement of Differences.

Towards the end of this period, my oldest brother, of whom I have already spoken, was in the university. He was studying theology. The critical philosophy of that time began to illumine the doctrines of the church. It could not but happen that father and son were often of different opinions. I remember that once they discussed, with a lively exchange of words, some religious or church opinion. My father was excited, and on no account would give up. My brother, although mild by nature, was growing red, and could not resign what he held as true. I was here also, as so often, an unobserved listener, and I still see my father and brother as they stood opposed in their war of opinion. It seemed to me almost as if I comprehended something of the subject of their strife, and that I must decide that my brother was in the right; and yet there seemed to be something in my father's view that was not entirely incompatible with a mutual understanding. It came to my mind that in every foolish idea there is a true şide to be found, which often misleads to a convulsive, firm hold of the wrong. This view came out in my life more and more, and later, when two men in my presence contended for the truth, I learned to know it from both. On this account, I never liked to take sides, and this was my salvation. Another experience of my youth which had a definite influence upon my inner life was the following: There are constantly recurring, positive demands in our church religion to put on Christ, to show Christ in the life, to follow Jesus, and so on. These demands were often presented to me through my father's zeal in teaching and his earnest life.

The child knows no fear from the claims which are adapted to the childish spirit. As he receives to himself and recognizes the claim as a whole, so he wishes the fulfillment of the same to be entire and perfect. By the so-frequent recurrence of this demand came to me in its highest importance, also, the great difficulty in the way of its fulfillment; it even appeared to me that the latter was quite impossible. The contradiction which I believed I discovered in this way was oppressive to me in a high degree. Finally, the blessed thought came to me: human nature, in itself, does not make it impossible for man to live and represent again the life of Jesus in its purity; man can attain to the purity of the life of Jesus if he only finds the right way to it. This thought, by which as often as I think of it I am transplanted to that place and condition of my boyhood, was by chance the last of that epoch of life, and so it may close the account of my inner development at that point. In looking back upon it, I see that it was the heavenly moment of my life.

Disturbed Outer Life.

From the delineation of my inner boy life one might possibly infer a happy, satisfied outer life. Such a conclusion would not be correct. It appears to have been my destination to set forth and unravel the sharpest and hardest contrasts and contradictions. My external life was, therefore, of an entirely opposite character. I grew up without a mother; my physical condition was neglected, and through this neglect I had acquired many bad habits. I liked to be occupied; but often erred, in my awkwardness, in choosing material, time and place. So I often drew on myself the highest dissatisfaction of my parents. From my aroused feelings, I was deeply sensible of this, and for a longer time than it lasted with them, and so much the more because I found myself at best at fault in the scheme, though not in the motive. In my mind, I saw always one side, viewed from which my doing the thing was not entirely wrong, still less deserving of punishment. In my opinion, designs were attributed to my actions which did not lie in them. This consciousness first made me what I had the credit of being-namely, a bad boy. Finally, from fear of a severe punishment, I concealed the most innocent transactions, or shielded myself by false assertions, when I was asked. Enough, I early passed as bad; and my father, who did not always have time for investigation, received the thing as it was represented to him.

In play with my half brothers and sisters, according to the mother's construction I was always the occasion of all improprieties that happened. As the sympathy of my parents separated itself from me, my life separated more and more from them, and I was deprived of contact and union with men.

In this mournful condition, I ardently wished a change. I counted my older brothers and sisters happy who were all out of the house. At this troublous time, my oldest brother, already mentioned many times, returned home. He appeared to me as an angel of life; for he recognized in and under my mistakes the human side of my being, and took me often under his protection, with my misdemeanors. After a short time, he departed again, it is true; but my inner being was bound in the closest way with his, and, after his death, this love was the turning-point of my life.

The happiness of being able to leave the paternal roof finally fell to my lot, and it was of the highest necessity; for otherwise the violent contradictions of my inner and outer life would necessarily have confirmed the bad reputation that had now attached itself to me.

Life Away from Home.

When I was ten and three-quarter years old, a new life began, quite different from the earlier one. I permit myself here to make a comparison of this my early life with my present, to show how the former is to me the source of knowledge, and experience for the latter.

As I, when a child and boy, strove to educate myself properly, according to the laws placed by God himself in my nature, although yet unknown, so I strive now in a similar way, according to similar laws, and by a similar process, to educate men-the children of my fatherland. What I attained by my exertions as a boy, with a certain degree of unconsciousness, man often gains with a certain degree of ignorance, not less truly, but generally under more favorable circumstances than those which I experienced in my boyhood. So life is to me, in its great and small phenomena, in those of mankind and the human race, as well as in those of the individual (although he himself arbi

trarily distorts his life); so the present, past and future is to me an unbroken, continuous, great whole, in which one thing explains, justifies, conditions and demands another.

My childhood taught me that when mistrust exists where confidence should be, where separation takes the place of unity, when doubt is active where belief in man should operate, sorrowful fruits must appear, and a burdensome, oppressed life is the consequence.

I now go back to the recital of the history of the development of my inner and outer life.

A new life now began for me, different from the former one. An uncle on my mother's side-Superintendent Hoffman, of Stadt-Ilm-visited us this year. He was a gentle, benevolent man. His appearance among us made a beneficent impression on me. As an experienced man, he may have perceived the unhappiness of my situation; for, soon after his departure, he asked my father, by letter, to give me into his charge. Consent was easily and gladly given. Towards the end of the year 1792 I went to him. His wife and child had died early. Only his aged mother-in-law lived with him. As austerity reigned in my father's house, so here kindness and benevolence. I saw there, in respect to myself, distrust; here, confidence; there, I felt constraint; here, freedom. While there, I had been hardly at all among boys of my own age; here, I found certainly as many as forty fellow-pupils-for I entered now the higher class in the town school. This market-town lies in a quite broad valley, by a clear little stream. My uncle had a garden, near the house, which I could visit, and I was allowed to roam through the whole region, if I only appeared at home again punctually at the right time; which was an irremissible law. I drank here fresh courage in long draughts; for the whole country was to me a Physical Growth and Play.

place of action, as earlier our farm premises had been. I gained freedom of mind and bodily strength. The eyes of our higher spiritual teacher never disturbed our plays, which went on in an appointed place before him, and were always merrily conducted. The frequent re-action after play was often griev ous to me, which took place because my bodily strength and activity were not developed according to my age, and my bold daring could never supply the quiet, vigorous strength, and the knowledge of its limit, which my companions enjoyed. These happy ones had grown up in the constant use of their youthful and boyish strength. I felt myself fortunate beyond measure when at last I was received as an equal companion in the play of my school-fellows. But what afterwards skill, purpose and life remedied in this respect, I then felt always a physical weakness at variance with boyish vigor.

That of which my former education had robbed me being supplied, my life became vigorous, outwardly unconstrained-and, as I am told, I have made this useful to others in a high degree.

The world lay open to me as far as I could take it in. It may be that my life at that time was as free and unconstrained as my former life had been confined and bounded; at least my youthful comrades of that time have communicated to me several incidents which make me believe that my gayety bordered on wildness and carelessness-so far did I, even as a boy, intend the outward acts of my life to be of a more simple kind than those of my contemporaries. My heretofore quiet life in nature was now a more free and living At the same time, my uncle's house was a peaceful, generally a quiet

one.

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