Then, turning to the Genius, I exclaimed: 

O Genius, despair hath settled on my soul.  Knowing the nature of man, the perversity of those who govern, and the debasement of the governed—­this knowledge hath disgusted me with life; and since there is no choice but to be the accomplice or the victim of oppression, what remains to the man of virtue but to mingle his ashes with those of the tomb?

The Genius then gave me a look of severity, mingled with compassion; and after a few moments of silence, he replied: 

Virtue, then, consists in dying!  The wicked man is indefatigable in consummating his crime, and the just is discouraged from doing good at the first obstacle he encounters!  But such is the human heart.  A little success intoxicates man with confidence; a reverse overturns and confounds him.  Always given up to the sensation of the moment, he seldom judges things from their nature, but from the impulse of his passion.

Mortal, who despairest of the human race, on what profound combination of facts hast thou established thy conclusion?  Hast thou scrutinized the organization of sentient beings, to determine with precision whether the instinctive force which moves them on to happiness is essentially weaker than that which repels them from it? or, embracing in one glance the history of the species, and judging the future by the past, hast thou shown that all improvement is impossible?  Say! hath human society, since its origin, made no progress toward knowledge and a better state?  Are men still in their forests, destitute of everything, ignorant, stupid and ferocious?  Are all the nations still in that age when nothing was seen upon the globe but brutal robbers and brutal slaves?  If at any time, in any place, individuals have ameliorated, why shall not the whole mass ameliorate?  If partial societies have made improvements, what shall hinder the improvement of society in general?  And if the first obstacles are overcome, why should the others be insurmountable?

Art thou disposed to think that the human race degenerates?  Guard against the illusion and paradoxes of the misanthrope.  Man, discontented with the present, imagines for the past a perfection which never existed, and which only serves to cover his chagrin.  He praises the dead out of hatred to the living, and beats the children with the bones of their ancestors.

To prove this pretended retrograde progress from perfection we must contradict the testimony of reason and of fact; and if the facts of history are in any measure uncertain, we must contradict the living fact of the organization of man; we must prove that he is born with the enlightened use of his senses; that, without experience, he can distinguish aliment from poison; that the child is wiser than the old man; that the blind walks with more safety than the clear-sighted; that the civilized man is more miserable than the savage; and, indeed, that there is no ascending scale in experience and instruction.