Jean-Jacques Rousseau · Complete work
Notes, 6
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Platon montrant combien les idées de la quantité discrète et de ses rapports sont nécessaires dans les moindres arts, se moque avec raison des auteurs de son temps qui prétendaient que Palamède avait inventé les nombres au siège de Troie, comme si, dit ce philosophe, Agamemnon eût pu ignorer jusque-là combien il avait de jambes? En effet, on sent l’impossibilité que la société et les arts fussent parvenus où ils étaient déjà du temps du siège de Troie, sans que les hommes eussent l’usage des nombres et du calcul: mais la nécessité de connaître les nombres avant que d’acquérir d’autres connaissances n’en rend pas l’invention plus aisée à imaginer; les noms des nombres une fois connus, il est aisé d’en expliquer le sens et d’exciter les idées que ces noms représentent, mais pour les inventer, il fallut, avant que de concevoir ces mêmes idées, s’être pour ainsi dire familiarisé avec les méditations philosophiques, s’être exercé à considérer les êtres par leur seule essence et indépendamment de toute autre perception, abstraction très pénible, très métaphysique, très peu naturelle et sans laquelle cependant ces idées n’eussent jamais pu se transporter d’une espèce ou d’un genre à un autre, ni les nombres devenir universels. Un sauvage pouvait considérer séparément sa jambe droite et sa jambe gauche, ou les regarder ensemble sous l’idée indivisible d’une couple sans jamais penser qu’il en avait deux; car autre chose est l’idée représentative qui nous peint un objet, et autre chose l’idée numérique qui le détermine. Moins encore pouvait-il calculer jusqu’à cinq, et quoique appliquant ses mains l’une sur l’autre, il eût pu remarquer que les doigts se répondaient exactement, il était bien loin de songer à leur égalité numérique. Il ne savait pas plus le compte de ses doigts que de ses cheveux et si, après lui avoir fait entendre ce que c’est que nombres, quelqu’un lui eût dit qu’il avait autant de doigts aux pieds qu’aux mains, il eût peut-être été fort surpris, en les comparant, de trouver que cela était vrai.
Note 15
Il ne faut pas confondre l’amour-propre et l’amour de soi-même; deux passions très différentes par leur nature et par leurs effets. L’amour de soi-même est un sentiment naturel qui porte tout animal à veiller à sa propre conservation et qui, dirigé dans l’homme par la raison et modifié par la pitié, produit l’humanité et la vertu. L’amour-propre n’est qu’un sentiment relatif, factice et né dans la société, qui porte chaque individu à faire plus cas de soi que de tout autre, qui inspire aux hommes tous les maux qu’ils se font mutuellement et qui est la véritable source de l’honneur.
Ceci bien entendu, je dis que dans notre état primitif, dans le véritable état de nature, l’amour-propre n’existe pas. Car, chaque homme en particulier se regardant lui-même comme le seul spectateur qui l’observe, comme le seul être dans l’univers qui prenne intérêt à lui, comme le seul juge de son propre mérite, il n’est pas possible qu’un sentiment qui prend sa source dans des comparaisons qu’il n’est pas à portée de faire, puisse germer dans son âme; par la même raison cet homme ne saurait avoir ni haine ni désir de vengeance, passions qui ne peuvent naître que de l’opinion de quelque offense reçue; et comme c’est le mépris ou l’intention de nuire et non le mal qui constitue l’offense, des hommes qui ne savent ni s’apprécier ni se comparer peuvent se faire beaucoup de violences mutuelles quand il leur en revient quelque avantage, sans jamais s’offenser réciproquement. En un mot, chaque homme ne voyant guère ses semblables que comme il verrait des animaux d’une autre espèce, peut ravir la proie au plus faible ou céder la sienne au plus fort, sans envisager ces rapines que comme des événements naturels, sans le moindre mouvement d’insolence ou de dépit, et sans autre passion que la douleur ou la joie d’un bon ou mauvais succès.
Note 16
C’est une chose extrêmement remarquable que depuis tant d’années que les Européens se tourmentent pour amener les sauvages des diverses contrées du monde à leur manière de vivre, ils n’aient pas pu encore en gagner un seul, non pas même à la faveur du christianisme; car nos missionnaires en font quelquefois des chrétiens, mais jamais des hommes civilisés. Rien ne peut surmonter l’invincible répugnance qu’ils ont à prendre nos mœurs et vivre à notre manière. Si ces pauvres sauvages sont aussi malheureux qu’on le prétend, par quelle inconcevable dépravation de jugement refusent-ils constamment de se policer à notre imitation ou d’apprendre à vivre heureux parmi nous; tandis qu’on lit en mille endroits que des Français et d’autres Européens se sont réfugiés volontairement parmi ces nations, y ont passé leur vie entière, sans pouvoir plus quitter une si étrange manière de vivre, et qu’on voit même des missionnaires sensés regretter avec attendrissement les jours calmes et innocents qu’ils ont passés chez ces peuples si méprisés? Si l’on répond qu’ils n’ont pas assez de lumières pour juger sainement de leur état et du nôtre, je répliquerai que l’estimation du bonheur est moins l’affaire de la raison que du sentiment. D’ailleurs cette réponse peut se rétorquer contre nous avec plus de force encore; car il y a plus loin de nos idées à la disposition d’esprit où il faudrait être pour concevoir le goût que trouvent les sauvages à leur manière de vivre que des idées des sauvages à celles qui peuvent leur faire concevoir la nôtre. En effet, après quelques observations il leur est aisé de voir que tous nos travaux se dirigent sur deux seuls objets, savoir, pour soi les commodités de la vie, et la considération parmi les autres. Mais le moyen pour nous d’imaginer la sorte de plaisir qu’un sauvage prend à passer sa vie seul au milieu des bois ou à la pêche, ou à souffler dans une mauvaise flûte, sans jamais savoir en tirer un seul ton et sans se soucier de l’apprendre?
On a plusieurs fois amené des sauvages à Paris, à Londres et dans d’autres villes; on s’est empressé de leur étaler notre luxe, nos richesses et tous nos arts les plus utiles et les plus curieux; tout cela n’a jamais excité chez eux qu’une admiration stupide, sans le moindre mouvement de convoitise. Je me souviens entre autres de l’histoire d’un chef de quelques Américains septentrionaux qu’on mena à la cour d’Angleterre il y a une trentaine d’années. On lui fit passer mille choses devant les yeux pour chercher à lui faire quelque présent qui pût lui plaire, sans qu’on trouvât rien dont il parut se soucier. Nos armes lui semblaient lourdes et incommodes, nos souliers lui blessaient les pieds, nos habits le gênaient, il rebutait tout; enfin on s’aperçut qu’ayant pris une couverture de laine, il semblait prendre plaisir à s’en envelopper les épaules; vous conviendrez, au moins, lui dit-on aussitôt, de l’utilité de ce meuble? Oui, répondit-il, cela me paraît presque aussi bon qu’une peau de bête. Encore n’eût-il pas dit cela s’il eût porté l’une et l’autre à la pluie.
Peut-être me dira-t-on que c’est l’habitude qui, attachant chacun à sa manière de vivre, empêche les sauvages de sentir ce qu’il y a de bon dans la nôtre. Et sur ce pied-là il doit paraître au moins fort extraordinaire que l’habitude ait plus de force pour maintenir les sauvages dans le goût de leur misère que les Européens dans la jouissance de leur félicité. Mais pour faire à cette dernière objection une réponse à laquelle il n’y ait pas un mot à répliquer, sans alléguer tous les jeunes sauvages qu’on s’est vainement efforcé de civiliser; sans parler des Groenlandais et des habitants de l’Islande, qu’on a tenté d’élever et nourrir en Danemark, et que la tristesse et le désespoir ont tous fait périr, soit de langueur, soit dans la mer où ils avaient tenté de regagner leur pays à la nage; je me contenterai de citer un seul exemple bien attesté, et que je donne à examiner aux admirateurs de la police européenne.
« Tous les efforts des missionnaires hollandais du cap de Bonne-Espérance n’ont jamais été capables de convertir un seul Hottentot. Van der Stel, gouverneur du Cap, en ayant pris un dès l’enfance, le fit élever dans les principes de la religion chrétienne et dans la pratique des usages de l’Europe. On le vêtit richement, on lui fit apprendre plusieurs langues et ses progrès répondirent fort bien aux soins qu’on prit pour son éducation. Le gouverneur, espérant beaucoup de son esprit, l’envoya aux Indes avec un commissaire général qui l’employa utilement aux affaires de la Compagnie. Il revint au Cap après la mort du commissaire. Peu de jours après son retour, dans une visite qu’il rendit à quelques Hottentots de ses parents, il prit le parti de se dépouiller de sa parure européenne pour se revêtir d’une peau de brebis. Il retourna au fort, dans ce nouvel ajustement, chargé d’un paquet qui contenait ses anciens habits, et les présentant au gouverneur il lui tint ce discours (voy. le frontispice). « Ayez la bonté, monsieur, de faire attention que je renonce pour toujours à cet appareil. Je renonce aussi pour toute ma vie à la religion chrétienne, ma résolution est de vivre et mourir dans la religion, les manières et les usages de mes ancêtres. L’unique grâce que je vous demande est de me laisser le collier et le coutelas que je porte. Je les garderai pour l’amour de vous. » Aussitôt, sans attendre la réponse de Van der Stel, il se déroba par la fuite et jamais on ne le revit au Cap. » Histoire des Voyages, tome 5, p. 175.
Note 17
On pourrait m’objecter que dans un pareil désordre les hommes au lieu de s’entr’égorger opiniâtrement se seraient dispersés, s’il n’y avait point eu de bornes à leur dispersion. Mais premièrement ces bornes eussent au moins été celles du monde, et si l’on pense à l’excessive population qui résulte de l’état de nature, on jugera que la terre dans cet état n’eût pas tardé à être couverte d’hommes ainsi forcés à se tenir rassemblés. D’ailleurs, ils se seraient dispersés, si le mal avait été rapide et que c’eut été un changement fait du jour au lendemain; mais ils naissaient sous le joug; ils avaient l’habitude de le porter quand ils en sentaient la pesanteur, et ils se contentaient d’attendre l’occasion de le secouer. Enfin, déjà accoutumés à mille commodités qui les forçaient à se tenir rassemblés, la dispersion n’était plus si facile que dans les premiers temps où nul n’ayant besoin que de soi-même, chacun prenait son parti sans attendre le consentement d’un autre.
Note 18
Le maréchal de V*** contait que dans une de ses campagnes, les excessives friponneries d’un entrepreneur des vivres ayant fait souffrir et murmurer l’armée, il le tança vertement et le menaça de le faire pendre. Cette menace ne me regarde pas, lui répondit hardiment le fripon, et je suis bien aise de vous dire qu’on ne pend point un homme qui dispose de cent mille écus. Je ne sais comment cela se fit, ajoutait naïvement le maréchal, mais en effet il ne fut point pendu, quoiqu’il eût cent fois mérité de l’être.
Note 19
La justice distributive s’opposerait même à cette égalité rigoureuse de l’état de nature, quand elle serait praticable dans la société civile; et comme tous les membres de l’État lui doivent des services proportionnés à leurs talents et à leurs forces, les citoyens à leur tour doivent être distingués et favorisés à proportion de leurs services. C’est en ce sens qu’il faut entendre un passage d’Isocrate dans lequel il loue les premiers Athéniens d’avoir bien su distinguer quelle était la plus avantageuse des deux sortes d’égalité, dont l’une consiste à faire part des mêmes avantages à tous les citoyens indifféremment, et l’autre à les distribuer selon le mérite de chacun. Ces habiles politiques, ajoute l’orateur, bannissant cette injuste égalité qui ne met aucune différence entre les méchants et les gens de bien, s’attachèrent inviolablement à celle qui récompense et punit chacun selon son mérite. Mais premièrement il n’a jamais existé de société, à quelque degré de corruption qu’elles aient pu parvenir, dans laquelle on ne fît aucune différence des méchants et des gens de bien; et dans les matières de mœurs où la loi ne peut fixer de mesure assez exacte pour servir de règle au magistrat, c’est très sagement que, pour ne pas laisser le sort ou le rang des citoyens à sa discrétion, elle lui interdit le jugement des personnes pour ne lui laisser que celui des actions. Il n’y a que des mœurs aussi pures que celles des anciens Romains qui puissent supporter des censeurs, et des pareils tribunaux auraient bientôt tout bouleversé parmi nous: c’est à l’estime publique à mettre de la différence entre les méchants et les gens de bien; le magistrat n’est juge que du droit rigoureux; mais le peuple est le véritable juge des mœurs; juge intègre et même éclairé sur ce point, qu’on abuse quelquefois, mais qu’on ne corrompt jamais. Les rangs des citoyens doivent donc être réglés, non sur leur mérite personnel, ce qui serait laisser au magistrat le moyen de faire une application presque arbitraire de la loi, mais sur les services réels qu’ils rendent à l’État et qui sont susceptibles d’une estimation plus exacte.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
Plato, showing how necessary ideas of discrete quantity and its relations are even to the humblest arts, rightly mocks the writers of his day who maintained that Palamedes invented numbers at the siege of Troy. As if, says that philosopher, Agamemnon could until then have been ignorant of how many legs he had! Indeed, it is plainly impossible that society and the arts should have advanced as far as they had by the time of the siege of Troy without the use of numbers and calculation; but the need to know numbers before acquiring other knowledge does not make their invention any easier to imagine. Once the names of numbers are known, it is easy to explain their meaning and call up the ideas these names represent; but to invent them, one had, before conceiving those very ideas, to have become familiar, so to speak, with philosophical meditation, to have practiced considering beings by their essence alone and independently of every other perception. This is a most painful, most metaphysical, most unnatural abstraction, without which, nevertheless, those ideas could never have been carried from one species or genus to another, nor numbers have become universal. A wild man could consider his right leg and left leg separately, or regard them together under the indivisible idea of a pair, without ever thinking that he had two; for the representative idea that pictures an object to us is one thing, and the numerical idea that determines it another. Still less could he count to five; although by placing one hand against the other he might have noticed that the fingers matched exactly, he was far from thinking of their numerical equality. He knew the number of his fingers no better than that of his hairs; and if, after someone had explained to him what numbers were, that person had told him that he had as many toes as fingers, he might have been very surprised, on comparing them, to find this true.
Note 15
We must not confuse amour-propre with amour de soi: two passions very different in their nature and effects. Amour de soi is a natural feeling that impels every animal to care for its own preservation and that, guided in man by reason and tempered by pity, gives rise to humanity and virtue. Amour-propre is merely a relative, artificial feeling born in society, impelling each individual to value himself above everyone else, inspiring all the harm men do one another, and forming the true source of honor.
With this understood, I say that in our primitive condition, in the true state of nature, amour-propre does not exist. For each man, considering himself the sole spectator observing him, the sole being in the universe interested in him, the sole judge of his own worth, cannot harbor in his soul a feeling that springs from comparisons he is unable to make. For the same reason, this man can feel neither hatred nor desire for revenge, passions that can arise only from the perception that one has suffered an offense; and since it is contempt or the intention to harm, not harm itself, that constitutes an offense, men who know neither how to appraise nor how to compare themselves may do considerable violence to one another whenever it benefits them without ever taking offense at one another. In short, each man, seeing his fellows much as he would see animals of another species, may seize prey from someone weaker or surrender his own to someone stronger, regarding such seizures only as natural events, without the least stir of insolence or resentment, and with no passion beyond the pain or pleasure of failure or success.
Note 16
It is extraordinarily remarkable that, after so many years spent by Europeans struggling to bring the wild peoples of various parts of the world to their way of life, they have not yet won over a single one, not even with the help of Christianity; for our missionaries sometimes make Christians of them, but never civilized men. Nothing can overcome their invincible reluctance to adopt our customs and live as we do. If these poor wild people are as wretched as we are told, by what inconceivable perversity of judgment do they consistently refuse to become civilized in imitation of us or learn to live happily among us? Meanwhile, one reads in countless places that Frenchmen and other Europeans have voluntarily sought refuge among these nations and passed their entire lives there, unable ever again to abandon so strange a way of life; one even sees sensible missionaries fondly regretting the peaceful and innocent days they spent among these much-despised peoples. If it is answered that such peoples lack the enlightenment to judge their condition and ours soundly, I reply that happiness is judged less by reason than by feeling. Besides, this answer may be turned against us with still greater force, for the distance between our ideas and the frame of mind needed to grasp the pleasure wild people find in their way of life is greater than the distance between their ideas and those that might enable them to grasp ours. Indeed, after a few observations they can readily see that all our labors aim at just two things: comforts in life for ourselves and esteem in the eyes of others. But how can we imagine the kind of pleasure a wild man takes in spending his life alone in the woods or fishing, or in blowing on a wretched flute without ever learning to draw a single note from it and without caring to learn?
Wild people have several times been brought to Paris, London, and other cities; people have eagerly displayed our luxury, riches, and all our most useful and ingenious arts to them; none of it has ever stirred in them anything but a blank astonishment, without the least desire to possess it. Among other cases I recall the story of a chief of certain North Americans brought to the English court some thirty years ago. A thousand things were paraded before his eyes in the hope of finding a gift that would please him, but nothing seemed to interest him. Our weapons seemed heavy and awkward to him; our shoes hurt his feet; our clothes hampered him; he rejected everything. At last it was noticed that, having picked up a woolen blanket, he seemed to enjoy wrapping it around his shoulders. “You must admit, at least,” he was promptly told, “that this article is useful?” “Yes,” he replied, “it seems almost as good as an animal skin.” And even that he would not have said had he worn both in the rain.
Perhaps I shall be told that it is habit, attaching each person to his own way of life, that prevents wild people from appreciating what is good in ours. On this view, it must at least seem quite extraordinary that habit has more power to keep wild people fond of their misery than to keep Europeans enjoying their happiness. But to give this last objection an answer against which there is not a word to be said, without citing all the young wild people whom men have tried in vain to civilize, without speaking of the Greenlanders and inhabitants of Iceland whom men tried to rear and feed in Denmark and who all perished of sadness and despair, whether through languishing or in the sea where they had tried to swim home, I shall content myself with citing a single well-attested example, which I submit to the admirers of European civilization for examination.
“All the efforts of the Dutch missionaries at the Cape of Good Hope have never succeeded in converting a single Hottentot. Van der Stel, governor of the Cape, having taken one in as a child, had him raised in the principles of the Christian religion and the practice of European customs. He was richly dressed and taught several languages, and his progress amply repaid the care devoted to his education. Placing great hopes in his intelligence, the governor sent him to the Indies with a commissioner-general, who employed him usefully in the Company's affairs. He returned to the Cape after the commissioner's death. A few days after his return, while visiting some Hottentot relatives, he decided to cast off his European finery and dress himself in a sheepskin. He returned to the fort thus attired, carrying a bundle containing his former clothes, and, presenting them to the governor, made this speech (see the frontispiece): ‘Please take note, sir, that I renounce this attire forever. For the rest of my life I renounce the Christian religion as well; I am resolved to live and die in the religion, manners, and customs of my ancestors. The only favor I ask of you is that you let me keep the necklace and the cutlass I wear. I shall keep them for love of you.’ At once, without waiting for Van der Stel's answer, he slipped away, and was never seen again at the Cape.” History of Voyages, volume 5, p. 175.
Note 17
One might object that amid such disorder men would have dispersed rather than persistently slaughtering one another, had there been no bounds to their dispersal. But first, those bounds would at least have been the limits of the world; and if we consider the immense population resulting from the state of nature, we shall judge that in that condition the earth would soon have been covered with men, thus forced to remain together. Besides, they would have dispersed if the evil had arisen quickly and the change had come overnight; but they were born under the yoke and were accustomed to bearing it when they felt its weight, content merely to await a chance to throw it off. Lastly, already accustomed to a thousand comforts that compelled them to stay together, they could no longer disperse as easily as in the earliest times, when no one needed anyone but himself, and each went his own way without waiting for another's consent.
Note 18
The marshal of V—— used to tell how, during one of his campaigns, the outrageous frauds of an army provisioner had caused the troops to suffer and complain, and he sternly rebuked the man and threatened to have him hanged. “That threat does not concern me,” the rogue boldly replied, “and I am pleased to tell you that a man who controls a hundred thousand écus is not hanged.” “I do not know how it happened,” the marshal would add ingenuously, “but indeed he was not hanged, though he deserved it a hundred times over.”
Note 19
Distributive justice would even oppose the rigorous equality of the state of nature, were that equality practicable in civil society; and since all members of the State owe it services proportionate to their talents and strength, citizens in turn ought to be distinguished and favored in proportion to their services. In this sense we must understand a passage of Isocrates in which he praises the early Athenians for knowing how to distinguish which of two kinds of equality was more beneficial: one consists in granting the same benefits indiscriminately to every citizen, the other in distributing them according to each person's merit. These skillful statesmen, the orator adds, rejected the unjust equality that draws no distinction between the wicked and the good, and held steadfastly to the kind that rewards and punishes each according to merit. But in the first place, there has never been a society, however corrupt it may have become, in which no distinction at all was made between wicked and good people. In matters of morals, where law cannot fix a measure precise enough to serve as a rule for a magistrate, it acts most wisely in forbidding him to judge persons and leaving him to judge only actions, lest citizens' fate or standing be left to his discretion. Only customs as pure as those of the ancient Romans could endure censors; similar tribunals would soon throw everything into turmoil among us. It is for public esteem to distinguish the wicked from the good; the magistrate judges only strict right, but the people are the true judge of morals—an upright, and indeed an enlightened, judge in this matter, sometimes misled but never corrupted. The standing of citizens must therefore be determined not by personal merit, which would give the magistrate scope to apply the law almost arbitrarily, but by the real services they render the State, which admit of a more exact assessment.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes).
Plato shows how necessary ideas of separate quantities and their relationships are even in the simplest crafts. He rightly mocks the writers of his day who claimed that Palamedes invented numbers at the siege of Troy. As this philosopher asks, could Agamemnon have been unaware until then of how many legs he had? Clearly, society and the crafts could not have reached the point they had reached by the siege of Troy without people using numbers and arithmetic. But the need to know numbers before learning other things does not make it any easier to imagine their invention. Once we know the words for numbers, we can easily explain what they mean and bring to mind the ideas they represent. To invent them, however, people first had to become familiar, so to speak, with philosophical thinking, even before forming those ideas. They had to practice considering things solely in terms of their essential nature, apart from every other perception. This kind of abstraction is very difficult, very metaphysical, and very unnatural. Yet without it, these ideas could never have been applied from one species or kind to another, and numbers could never have become universal. A wild man could consider his right and left legs separately, or see them together as a pair that he thought of as a single whole, without ever thinking that he had two. An idea that pictures an object for us is one thing; an idea that assigns it a number is another. He would have been even less able to count to five. He could put one hand against the other and notice that his fingers matched exactly, but he would still be far from thinking about their numerical equality. He knew the number of his fingers no better than the number of his hairs. If someone had explained numbers to him and then told him he had as many toes as fingers, he might have been very surprised to compare them and find it true.
Note 15
We must not confuse amour-propre with self-love. These two passions are very different in nature and effect. Self-love is a natural feeling that leads every animal to look after its own survival. When reason guides it in human beings and pity modifies it, it produces humanity and virtue. Amour-propre is only a relative and artificial feeling that arises in society. It leads each individual to value himself more than anyone else, inspires all the harms people do one another, and is the true source of honor.
With this distinction clear, I say that amour-propre does not exist in our original condition, the true state of nature. Each person sees himself as the only spectator watching him, the only being in the universe interested in him, and the only judge of his own worth. A feeling rooted in comparisons he cannot make therefore cannot grow in his mind. For the same reason, he cannot feel hatred or a desire for revenge. Those passions can arise only from believing he has been insulted. It is contempt or an intention to harm, not the harm itself, that constitutes an insult. People who do not know how to judge or compare themselves may do each other a great deal of violence when it benefits them, without ever insulting each other. In short, each person sees other human beings much as he would see animals of another species. He may take food from the weaker or give up his own to the stronger, regarding these acts of taking as nothing more than natural events. He feels no arrogance or resentment, only the pain or pleasure of an unsuccessful or successful outcome.
Note 16
It is extremely remarkable that, after all the years Europeans have spent trying to get the wild peoples of various parts of the world to adopt their way of life, they have not managed to win over even one of them, not even with the help of Christianity. Our missionaries sometimes make them Christians, but never civilized people. Nothing can overcome their firm unwillingness to adopt our customs and live as we do. If these poor wild people are as unhappy as is claimed, what unbelievable failure of judgment makes them consistently refuse to become civilized in imitation of us or learn to live happily among us? Meanwhile, we read in countless places that French people and other Europeans have voluntarily taken refuge among these peoples and spent their whole lives there, unable to leave such a strange way of life. We even see sensible missionaries fondly regretting the calm and innocent days they spent among these much-despised peoples. If the reply is that the wild peoples lack the understanding to judge their condition and ours correctly, I would answer that judging happiness is more a matter of feeling than reason. Besides, the reply can be turned against us even more forcefully. Our ideas are further from the frame of mind needed to grasp why wild peoples like their way of life than their ideas are from the ideas that would let them grasp ours. After observing us a little, they can easily see that all our work has just two aims: for ourselves, the comforts of life, and among others, respect. But how can we imagine the pleasure a wild man takes in spending his life alone in the woods, or fishing, or blowing into a poor flute without ever managing to get a single note from it or caring to learn how?
Wild people have been brought to Paris, London, and other cities many times. People eagerly displayed our luxuries, our riches, and all our most useful and curious arts to them. None of it ever stirred anything but blank amazement in them, without the slightest desire to own any of it. Among other cases, I remember the story of a chief of some North Americans who was brought to the court of England about thirty years ago. A thousand things were shown to him in the hope of finding a present he would like, but nothing seemed to interest him. Our weapons seemed heavy and awkward to him, our shoes hurt his feet, our clothes confined him. He rejected everything. At last people noticed that he seemed to enjoy wrapping a wool blanket around his shoulders. “You must at least admit that this item is useful,” they promptly told him. “Yes,” he answered, “it seems almost as good as an animal skin.” He would not even have said that if he had worn both in the rain.
Perhaps I will be told that habit attaches each person to his own way of life and stops wild people from recognizing what is good in ours. On that view, it must seem at least very odd that habit is stronger in keeping wild people fond of their misery than in keeping Europeans content with their happiness. But I can give a reply to this last objection that leaves nothing to argue with. I need not cite all the young wild people whom others have tried in vain to civilize. Nor need I mention the Greenlanders and inhabitants of Iceland whom people tried to raise and feed in Denmark, all of whom died of sadness and despair, either wasting away or drowning at sea while trying to swim home. I will give only one well-attested example for admirers of European civilization to consider.
“All the efforts of the Dutch missionaries at the Cape of Good Hope have never managed to convert a single Hottentot. Van der Stel, governor of the Cape, took one as a child and had him brought up in the principles of Christianity and the practice of European customs. He was dressed in fine clothes and taught several languages, and his progress amply repaid the care spent on his education. The governor had high hopes for his intelligence and sent him to the Indies with a commissioner general, who put him to useful work in the Company's affairs. He returned to the Cape after the commissioner's death. A few days after his return, while visiting some Hottentot relatives, he decided to take off his European finery and put on a sheepskin. He went back to the fort in his new clothing, carrying a bundle of his old clothes. Presenting them to the governor, he made this speech (see the frontispiece): ‘Please understand, sir, that I am giving up this finery forever. I am also giving up the Christian religion for the rest of my life. I have decided to live and die with the religion, ways, and customs of my ancestors. The only favor I ask is that you let me keep the necklace and knife I am wearing. I will keep them out of affection for you.’ Without waiting for Van der Stel's answer, he immediately slipped away and was never seen at the Cape again.” History of Travels, volume 5, p. 175.
Note 17
One might object that in such disorder, instead of stubbornly slaughtering one another, people would have scattered, if there had been no limits to how far they could go. But to begin with, those limits would at least have been the limits of the world. If we consider the enormous population that results from the state of nature, we will see that the earth in that condition would soon have been filled with people forced to live close together. Besides, they would have scattered if the trouble had come quickly, as a change made overnight. But they were born under the yoke and were already used to bearing it by the time they felt its weight. They contented themselves with waiting for a chance to throw it off. Finally, they were already used to a thousand comforts that forced them to stay together. Scattering was no longer as easy as it had been in the earliest times, when nobody needed anyone else and everyone could decide what to do without waiting for another person's agreement.
Note 18
The Marshal de V—— used to tell how, during one of his campaigns, an army supplier's outrageous cheating made the army suffer and complain. The marshal scolded him sharply and threatened to have him hanged. “That threat does not concern me,” the swindler boldly answered, “and I am pleased to tell you that no one hangs a man who controls a hundred thousand écus.” “I do not know how it happened,” the marshal would add simply, “but in fact he was not hanged, though he deserved it a hundred times over.”
Note 19
Distributive justice would even rule out the strict equality of the state of nature if that equality could be put into practice in civil society. All members of the state owe it services in proportion to their talents and strength. Citizens, in turn, ought to receive distinction and advantages in proportion to their services. That is how we should understand a passage in which Isocrates praises the earliest Athenians for distinguishing correctly which of two kinds of equality was better. One gives every citizen the same advantages without distinction; the other distributes advantages according to each person's merit. These skilled statesmen, the orator adds, rejected the unjust kind of equality that makes no distinction between bad people and good people. They held firmly to the kind that rewards and punishes each person according to merit. But, first, there has never been any society, however corrupt, that made no distinction between bad people and good people. And when it comes to conduct, the law cannot set a standard exact enough to guide a magistrate. It is therefore very wise for the law to bar the magistrate from judging people and allow him to judge only actions, so that citizens' fates or standing do not depend on his discretion. Only customs as pure as those of the ancient Romans could put up with censors. Tribunals like theirs would soon throw everything into chaos among us. It is up to public opinion to distinguish bad people from good people. The magistrate judges only strict legal rights; the people are the true judge of conduct. On this point they are an honest and even well-informed judge. They can sometimes be misled but never corrupted. Citizens' ranks should therefore be based not on their personal merit, which would let the magistrate apply the law almost at will, but on the real services they give the state, which can be assessed more accurately.