Necessarily the scene of the real turning-point of my life (and of
yours) was the Garden of Eden. It was there that the first link was
forged of the chain that was ultimately to lead to the emptying of me
into the literary guild. Adam’s _temperament_ was the first command the
Deity ever issued to a human being on this planet. And it was the only
command Adam would _never_ be able to disobey. It said, “Be weak, be
water, be characterless, be cheaply persuadable.” The later command, to
let the fruit alone was certain to be disobeyed. Not by Adam himself,
but by his _temperament_—which he did not create and had no authority
over. For the _temperament_ is the man; the thing tricked out with
clothes and named Man is merely its shadow, nothing more. The law of the
tiger’s temperament is, Thou shalt kill; the law of the sheep’s
temperament is, Thou shalt not kill. To issue later commands requiring
the tiger to let the fat stranger alone, and requiring the sheep to
imbue its hands in the blood of the lion is not worth while, for those
commands _can’t_ be obeyed. They would invite to violations of the law
of _temperament_, which is supreme, and takes precedence of all other
authorities. I cannot help feeling disappointed in Adam and Eve. That
is, in their temperaments. Not in _them_, poor helpless young
creatures—afflicted with temperaments made out of butter; which butter
was commanded to get into contact with fire and _be melted_. What I
cannot help wishing is, that Adam and Eve had been postponed, and Martin
Luther and Joan of Arc put in their place. That splendid pair equipped
with temperaments not made of butter, but of asbestos. By neither sugary
persuasions nor by hell fire could Satan have beguiled _them_ to eat the
apple.