changing the tyranny.

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
contradic