There was nothing more curious, for example, than his definition of fraud. He called it man’s left arm, the right arm being force. His conclusion was simply that many men were left-handed, and that was that. Not that he required everyone to be left-handed, for no one was to be excluded. Some could be left-handed, others right-handed; he’d accept everyone, except those who were neither one thing nor the other. His most profound and rigorous explanation, however, was that of Venality. One casuist of the time even confessed that his explanation was a monument of logic. Venality, said the Devil, was the exercise of a right superior to all others. If you can sell your house, your ox, your shoe, or your hat—things that legally and juridically belong to you but are not part of you—why shouldn’t you be allowed to sell your opinion, your vote, your word, or your faith, things which are more than mere possessions, because they form part of your own consciousness, that is, your very self? To deny this is to lapse into absurdity and contradiction. For are there not women who sell their hair? Can a man not sell some of his blood for transfusion to another who is anemic? And why should blood and hair, mere physical parts, enjoy a privilege that is denied to character, man’s moral portion? Having thus set out the principle behind Venality, the Devil lost no time in expounding its practical and financial benefits. He then indicated that, in light of social prejudice, it would be appropriate to disguise the exercise of such a well-founded right; this would, of course, amount to practicing Venality and Hypocrisy at the same time, and would therefore be doubly deserving.

Up and down he went, examining and rectifying everything. Naturally he fought against the forgiveness of sins and other such principles of charitable kindness. He didn’t absolutely prohibit the spreading of calumnies without reward, but urged that it should always be done in return for some sort of payment, whether financial or otherwise. However, in cases where the calumny resulted from nothing more than an uncontrollable explosion of impetuous imagination, he forbade any recompense, since that was equivalent to being paid for merely sweating. He condemned all forms of respect as potential elements of social and personal politeness—except, of course, where there was some sort of advantage to be drawn from it. But this exception was itself soon eliminated by the realization that the desire for personal gain converted a display of respect into straightforward flattery, and the relevant intention was therefore the latter and not the former.