M — Méchant

We are told at the top of people’s voices that human nature is essentially perverse, that man is born a child of the devil, and wicked. Nothing could be more ill advised. For, my friend, you who preach to me that everyone is born perverse, you are warning me that you were born so yourself, that I must distrust you as I would a fox or a crocodile. “Oh, not at all!” you tell me. “I have been regenerated; I am neither a heretic nor an infidel; you can trust me.” But the rest of the human race, which is either heretical or what you call infidel, will therefore be nothing but a collection of monsters; and whenever you speak to a Lutheran or a Turk, you must be certain they will rob and murder you, for they are children of the devil, born wicked: one has not been regenerated, and the other has degenerated. It would be far more reasonable, far finer, to tell men, “You were all born good; see how dreadful it would be to corrupt the purity of your being.” We ought to have dealt with the human race as we deal with each man in particular. Does a canon lead a scandalous life? We say to him, “Is it possible that you dishonor the dignity of a canon?” We remind a magistrate that he has the honor of being a counselor to the king, and that he must set an example.

To encourage a soldier we say, “Remember that you belong to the Champagne regiment.” We should say to every individual, “Remember your dignity as a man.”

In fact, like it or not, we always come back to this. For what does that expression, so frequently used among all nations, look within yourself, mean? If you were born a child of the devil, if your origin were criminal, if your blood were formed of an infernal fluid, look within yourself would mean, “Consult and follow your diabolical nature; be an impostor, a thief, a murderer: that is your father’s law.”

Man is not born wicked; he becomes so, as he becomes ill. Physicians appear and tell him, “You were born ill.” It is quite certain that these physicians, whatever they say and do, will not cure him if his illness is inherent in his nature; and these reasoners are very ill themselves.

Gather all the children in the universe: you will see in them only innocence, gentleness, and fear. If they were born wicked, harmful, cruel, they would show some sign of it, as little snakes try to bite and little tigers to tear. But nature, having given man no more offensive weapons than pigeons and rabbits, cannot have given him an instinct that drives him to destroy.

Man, then, was not born bad. Why are so many infected with this plague of wickedness? Because those at their head, stricken with the disease, communicate it to the rest of mankind, as a woman afflicted with the illness Christopher Columbus brought back from America spreads that poison from one end of Europe to the other. The first ambitious man corrupted the earth.

You will tell me that this first monster developed the seed of pride, plunder, fraud, and cruelty that is in all men. I admit that in general most of our brothers can acquire these qualities; but does everyone have putrid fever, bladder stones, and gravel because everyone is exposed to them?

There are whole nations that are not wicked. The Philadelphians and the Banians have never killed anyone. The Chinese, the peoples of Tonkin, Laos, Siam, even Japan, have known no war for more than a hundred years. In the cities of Rome, Venice, Paris, London, and Amsterdam, where greed, the mother of all crimes, is nevertheless extreme, scarcely one of those great crimes that astonish human nature is seen in ten years.

If men were essentially wicked, if they were all born subject to a being as malicious as he is unhappy, who inspired them with all his frenzies to avenge his torment, every morning we should see husbands murdered by their wives and fathers by their children, as at daybreak we see hens strangled by a marten that has come to suck their blood.

If there are a billion people on earth, that is a great many. It gives us about five hundred million women who sew, spin, nurse their little ones, keep their house or hut clean, and gossip a little about their neighbors. I do not see what great harm these poor innocents do on earth. Of this number of the globe’s inhabitants, there are at least two hundred million children, who certainly neither kill nor plunder, and about as many old or sick people who have not the power to do so. There remain at most a hundred million young people strong enough and capable of crime. Of these hundred million, ninety million are continually occupied in forcing the earth, through prodigious labor, to furnish them with food and clothing. These people have scarcely any time to do harm.

The remaining ten million will include people of leisure and good society who want to enjoy life peacefully; talented men occupied with their professions; magistrates and priests, who plainly have an interest in leading a pure life, at least in appearance. The only truly wicked people left will therefore be a few schemers, whether secular or monastic, who are always trying to trouble the world, and a few thousand vagabonds who hire out their services to these schemers. Now there are never a million of these ferocious beasts employed at once, and in that number I include highwaymen. So at most, in the most turbulent times, there is one man in a thousand on earth who can be called wicked; and even he is not always so.

There is therefore infinitely less evil on earth than people say and believe. There is still too much, no doubt; we see horrible misfortunes and crimes. But the pleasure of complaining and exaggerating is so great that at the slightest scratch you cry that the earth is awash in blood. Have you been deceived? All men are perjurers. A melancholy mind that has suffered an injustice sees the universe covered with the damned, just as a young voluptuary, dining with his lady after the opera, cannot imagine that there are any unhappy people.

People keep shouting that we’re corrupt by nature, born wicked, born the devil’s children. What a misguided thing to say! My friend, you preach that everyone is born corrupt. Aren’t you telling me you were born that way too? Mustn’t I watch out for you as for a fox or crocodile? “Not at all!” you say. “I’ve been born again. I’m not a heretic or an unbeliever. You can trust me.” Then everyone else must be a monster, since they’re heretics or what you call unbelievers. Whenever you speak to a Lutheran or a Turk, you must expect robbery and murder. They’re the devil’s children, born wicked. One hasn’t been born again; the other has degenerated. It would be far more sensible, far better, to tell people, “You’re all born good. Think how dreadful it would be to spoil your original purity.” We should treat humanity as we treat its individual members. If a canon lives scandalously, we ask, “How can you disgrace your position as a canon?” We remind a judicial official of his honorable position as the king’s councilor. He must set an example.

We encourage a soldier by saying, “Remember you’re in the Champagne regiment.” We should tell each person, “Remember your dignity as a human being.”

In fact, we always come back to that, whether we like it or not. Every nation often uses the phrase look inside yourself. What does it mean? Suppose you were born the devil’s child, your origin was criminal, and your blood was made of liquid from hell. Then look inside yourself would mean, “Consult your devilish nature and follow it. Be a fraud, a thief, a murderer. That’s your father’s law.”

We’re not born wicked. We become wicked, just as we become ill. Doctors come along and say, “You were born ill.” If illness belongs to his very nature, they certainly won’t cure their patient, whatever they say or do. Those thinkers are very ill themselves.

Gather all the world’s children together. You’ll see only innocence, gentleness, and fear. If they were born wicked, destructive, and cruel, they’d show some sign. Baby snakes try to bite; baby tigers try to tear things apart. But nature hasn’t given people any more weapons for attacking than pigeons or rabbits have. It can’t have given them an instinct to destroy.

So we’re not born bad. Why do so many catch this plague of wickedness? Their leaders catch it and spread it to the rest. A woman with the disease Christopher Columbus brought back from America likewise spreads its poison across Europe. The first ambitious man corrupted the earth.

You’ll tell me that first monster developed seeds present in us all: pride, theft, deceit, and cruelty. I admit most of our fellow humans can generally acquire these qualities. But everyone’s at risk of putrid fever, stones, and urinary gravel. Does that mean everyone has them?

Whole nations aren’t wicked. Philadelphians and Banians have never killed anyone. The Chinese, the peoples of Tonkin, Laos, Siam, and even Japan have known no war for over a hundred years. In Rome, Venice, Paris, London, and Amsterdam, barely one great crime that shocks humanity occurs in ten years. Yet those cities are full of extreme greed, the mother of every crime.

Suppose we were wicked by nature. Suppose we were all born under a being as destructive as he is miserable, who filled us with his rage to avenge his own torment. Every morning we’d find husbands murdered by wives and fathers by children. At dawn we likewise find hens strangled by a marten that’s come to suck their blood.

A billion people would be a lot for the earth. That gives about five hundred million women. They sew, spin, nurse their little ones, keep their houses or huts clean, and gossip a little about their neighbors. I can’t see what great harm these poor innocents do. At least two hundred million of the world’s people are children, who certainly don’t kill or steal. About as many are old or ill and can’t do so. That leaves, at most, a hundred million young people strong enough to commit crimes. Ninety million of them constantly work terribly hard to make the earth provide food and clothing. They’ve little time for wrongdoing.

The ten million left include idle people in polite society, who want to enjoy life quietly. They include skilled people busy with their professions, officials, and priests. Officials and priests plainly have an interest in living blamelessly, at least outwardly. That leaves only a few political schemers as truly wicked people. Some are outside religious orders, some inside them; they always want to disturb the world. Add a few thousand vagrants who hire themselves to these schemers. Even counting highway robbers, there’s never a million of these wild beasts at work together. So, even in the most troubled times, at most one person in a thousand on earth can be called wicked. That person isn’t wicked all the time, either.

There’s infinitely less evil on earth than people say or think. There’s still too much, certainly. We see disasters and dreadful crimes. But people enjoy complaining and exaggerating so much. Give them the smallest scratch, and they’ll cry that the earth is overflowing with blood. Has someone deceived you? Then everyone breaks their sworn promises. A gloomy person who’s been treated unjustly sees a universe full of damned souls. A young pleasure-seeker having supper with his lady after the opera can’t imagine anyone’s unhappy.