urt of Pharaoh,
deliberately made an adder out of the dust, knowing the adder would
bite, and then played with the adder until it bit some spectator, would
the injured man blame the magician or the adder?

How, then, could God blame Man for the Fall?

But you may ask me, with surprise, as so many have asked me with
surprise, "Do you really mean that no man is, under any circumstances,
to be blamed for anything he may say or do?"

And I shall answer you that I do seriously mean that no man can, under
any circumstances, be justly blamed for anything he may say or do. That
is one of my deepest convictions, and I shall try very hard to prove
that it is just.

But you may say, as many have said: "If no man can be justly blamed
for anything he says or does, there is an end of all law and order, and
society is impossible."

And I shall answer you: "No, on the contrary, there is a beginning of
law and order, and a chance that society may become civilised."

For it does not follow that because we may not blame a man we may not
condemn his acts. Nor that because we do not blame him we are bound to
allow him to do all manner of mischief.

Several critics have indignantly exclaimed that I make no difference
between good men and bad, that I lump Torquemada, Lucrezia Borgia,
Fenelon, and Marcus Aurelius together, and condone the most awful
crimes.

That is a mistake. I regard Lucrezia Borgia as a homicidal maniac, and
Torquemada as a religious maniac. I do not _blame_ such men and women.
But I should not allow them to do harm.

I believe that nearly all crimes, vices, cruelties, and other evil acts
are due to ignorance or to mental disease. I do not hate the man who
calls me an infidel, a liar, a blasphemer, or a quack. I know that he is
ignorant, or foolish, or ill-bred, or vicious, and I am sorry for him.

Socrates, as reported by Xenophon, put my case in a nutshell. When a
friend complained to Socrates that a man whom he had saluted had not
saluted him in return, the father of philosophy replied: "It is an odd
thing that if you had met a man ill-conditioned in body you would not
have been angry; but to have met a man rudely disposed in mind provokes
you."

This is sound philosophy, I think. If we pity a man with a twist in his
spine, why should we not pity the man with a twist in his brain? If we
pity a man with a stiff wrist, why not the man with a stiff pride? If we
pity a man with a weak heart, why not the man wit