Although modesty is natural to man, it is not natural to

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the philosopher of nature and freedom, once declared: “Although modesty is natural to man, it is not natural to children. Modesty only begins with the knowledge of evil.” In these words, he reveals a profound truth about the human heart, about innocence and its loss, about the ways of virtue and the awakening of conscience. To man, modesty is indeed natural; it arises when he learns to distinguish between good and evil, between the pure and the corrupt. But to children, untouched by such knowledge, modesty is foreign, for they dwell in innocence, unashamed of what they neither understand nor misuse.

This saying comes from Rousseau’s reflections in Émile, where he sought to teach how children should be raised, not by crushing their innocence, but by preserving it until the soul itself awakens to knowledge. A child runs freely, laughs openly, speaks without guile. He is not immodest, but rather untouched by the very concept of modesty. Only when he encounters evil—when he begins to perceive lust, pride, or vanity—does modesty emerge, like a shield born of necessity, guarding the soul against corruption. Thus, modesty is not innate in childhood, but it blooms as a flower of awareness in the garden of human growth.

Consider the story of Adam and Eve in the ancient Scriptures. In the beginning, though they were naked, they were unashamed, for they had not yet tasted the fruit of knowledge. But once they ate, once they understood good and evil, their eyes were opened, and they covered themselves. Modesty began at that very moment—not as an artificial invention, but as the natural response of souls who had glimpsed corruption. This tale, though clothed in myth, mirrors Rousseau’s wisdom: innocence knows no shame, but knowledge of evil brings forth modesty.

History too bears witness in more earthly ways. Look to Victorian England, where notions of modesty became intense and even extreme. Children, once playful and free, were swiftly schooled in strict codes of conduct as soon as they reached awareness of society’s judgment. Some of this was wise, much of it excessive. Rousseau’s warning resounds here: true modesty must not be forced upon innocence, but should grow naturally as awareness of evil dawns. When imposed too soon, it becomes hypocrisy; when ignored altogether, it becomes shamelessness. The balance lies in wisdom.

The meaning of Rousseau’s words is both delicate and powerful. He tells us not to mistake the natural innocence of children for immodesty, nor to rush them into the burdens of adult shame. Yet he also shows us that for adults, modesty is not weakness but virtue, a sign that one knows the dangers of evil and chooses to guard against them. The child’s unawareness is innocence; the adult’s modesty is wisdom. Between the two lies the transition every soul must walk—the awakening of conscience.

The lesson for us is this: do not destroy innocence with premature shame, nor despise modesty as a prison. Understand that innocence and modesty are stages of the same journey. Innocence is the dawn, modesty is the noonday sun that protects from burning heat. One must honor both. When raising children, let them play and be free; when they awaken to the world, guide them gently to embrace modesty, not as repression, but as self-respect and virtue.

Practical steps follow. If you are a parent or teacher, do not rush to burden children with the weight of shame. Let them remain innocent for as long as innocence will endure. Yet when their eyes open to the knowledge of good and evil, guide them with compassion, teaching them that modesty is not fear, but wisdom—a safeguard of dignity. And in your own life, cherish modesty not as a chain, but as armor: an acknowledgment of the world’s corruption, and a decision to stand apart from it with grace.

So let Rousseau’s words echo across the ages: “Modesty only begins with the knowledge of evil.” Innocence must be cherished, modesty must be cultivated, and both together lead the soul from childhood purity to adult virtue. Walk this path wisely, and you will find both freedom and dignity, both joy and strength, in the unfolding of life’s journey.