our enemies if we can, but even
the Gospel sets us an example of unbounded and uncompromising
denunciation, in the case of the Pharisees. It is the habit of
preachers to say that when we are dealing with detestable and
impossible people we should perform that subtle metaphysical process
that is described as hating the sin and loving the sinner. But that is
surely a very difficult thing to do? It is like saying that when one is
contemplating a very ugly and repulsive face, we are to dislike the
ugliness of it but admire the face; and the fact remains that it is an
extremely difficult and complicated thing to do to separate an
individual from his qualities. The most one can say is that one might
like him if he were different from what he is; but as long as that
remains what the grammarians call an unfulfilled condition, one's
liking is of a very impersonal nature. Such a statement as that one
would like a person well enough if he were only not what he is, is like
the speech that was parodied by Archbishop Whately in the House of
Lords. A speaker was recommending a measure on the ground that it would
be a very satisfactory one if only the conditions which it was meant to
meet were different. "As much as to say," said Whately to his neighbour
on the conclusion of the speech, "that if my aunt were a man, he would
be my uncle."

Of course the thing is easy enough when one is dealing, say, with a
fine and generous nature which is disfigured by a conspicuous fault. If
a man who is otherwise lovable and admirable has occasional outbursts
of spiteful and vicious ill-temper, it is possible to love him, because
one can conceive of him without the particular fault. But there are
some faults that permeate and soak through a man's whole character, as
in the Cornish _squab pie_, where an excellent pasty of bacon,
potatoes, and other agreeable commodities is penetrated throughout with
the oily flavour of a young cormorant which is popped in at the top
just before the pie is baked.

If a man is malignant or unreliable or mean or selfish, the savour of
his fault has a way of noisomely imbuing all his qualities, especially
if he is not aware of the deficiency. If a man is humbly and sadly
aware of the thing that is vile, if he makes clumsy and lamentable
attempts to get rid of it, one may pity him so much that one may almost
find oneself admiring him. One feels that he is made so, that he cannot
wholly help it, and we lose ourselves in