ce understood, we see clearly the point at which we
leave the path of nature. Let us discover what we ought to do, to keep
within it.

Far from having too much strength, children have not even enough for
all that nature demands of them. We ought, then, to leave them the
free use of all natural strength which they cannot misuse. First maxim.

We must aid them, supplying whatever they lack in intelligence, in
strength, in all that belongs to physical necessity. Second maxim.

In helping them, we must confine ourselves to what is really of use to
them, yielding nothing to their whims or unreasonable wishes. For
their own caprice will not trouble them unless we ourselves create it;
it is not a natural thing. Third maxim.

We must study carefully their language and their signs, so that, at an
age when they cannot dissemble, we may judge which of their desires
spring from nature itself, and which of them from opinion. Fourth
maxim.

The meaning of these rules is, to allow children more personal freedom
and less authority; to let them do more for themselves, and exact less
from others. Thus accustomed betimes to desire only what they can
obtain or do for themselves, they will feel less keenly the want of
whatever is not within their own power.

Here there is another and very important reason for leaving children
absolutely free as to body and limbs, with the sole precaution of
keeping them from the danger of falling, and of putting out of their
reach everything that can injure them.

Doubtless a child whose body and arms are free will cry less than one
bound fast in swaddling clothes. He who feels only physical wants
cries only when he suffers, and this is a great advantage. For then we
know exactly when he requires help, and we ought not to delay one
moment in giving him help, if possible.

But if you cannot relieve him, keep quiet; do not try to soothe him by
petting him. Your caresses will not cure his colic; but he will
remember what he has to do in order to be petted. And if he once
discovers that he can, at will, busy you about him, he will have become
your master; the mischief is done.

If children were not so much thwarted in their movements, they would
not cry so much; if we were less annoyed by their crying, we would take
less pains to hush them; if they were not so often threatened or
caressed, they would be less timid or less stubborn, and more truly
themselves as nature made them. It is not