Some system may be the best for a time but must in turn give place to new formations.  In this process the old is ever mixed with the new.  The past hangs on to plague the present, and the vision of the future disturbs the quiet and stability that the present inherited from the past.  Organizations of society are necessary and automatic.  The frost on the window pane takes its pattern, the crystals in the glass and stone have their formations, the grain of sand, the plant—­all forms of animal life—­the solar system and, doubtless, an infinite number of other systems which the eye cannot see or the mind comprehend take on form and order.  The symmetry and shape of any of these organizations may be shattered by growth or catastrophe, and new forms may take their place.  All life is constant friction and constant adjustment, each particle in a blind way trying to find a more harmonious relation, but never reaching complete rest.

The social and political patterns that men have taken have been of many forms.  All through the past these have changed, and the laws and habits that were meant to hold men together, have been made and discarded as fast as new emotions or ideas have gained the power to make the change.  Men are of all degrees of adaptability.  Some can readily conform to the new.  Some adjust themselves very slowly.  Man’s structure is fixed; his inherent instincts are of ancient origin, always urging him to primitive reactions; his habits are slowly formed and slowly changed.  Slowly he settles himself to the conditions that surround him.  He learns their demands; he manages to conform, but the folk-ways that he knew and the way of life he learned must be changed to something else.  Every new adjustment, every change of organization, every modification made by civilization, bears its toll of victims who have not been able to adjust themselves to the new order.

The first criminal regulations, doubtless, had to do with the personal relations of men.  The number of offenses was small for life was simple, wants were few, and ambition rare.  The growth of religion created a ferocious criminal code, regulating every thought and action that God’s agents thought might offend the Deity or threaten their power on earth.  Anyone interested in the story of punishment for heresy, sorcery or other crimes growing out of religious fanaticism, can read the story in Lecky’s History of Rationalism in Europe, in White’s A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom, in Draper’s Intellectual Development of Europe, and in many other books.  The Spanish Inquisition alone furnished about 350,000 victims in the two centuries of its power.  Many of them were burned alive, many others were killed by the most cruel torture that could be devised by man.  Up to recent times more victims have been put to death for heresy and kindred crimes against religion than for any other cause.  Next to this no doubt stand political crimes.  Even America hanged old women for witchcraft, a crime they could not commit.  Practically all the victims of religious and political persecution have been guiltless of any real crimes, and among them were always many of the noblest of their age.