For this very reason is the doctrine intolerable to me, that man was formerly in a more exalted and perfect state than now; but has gradually degenerated, and must labour up again, through sin and misery, till he reach his pristine perfection. How much more accordant with all the laws of nature,--how much more consistent with the character of an eternal, most high, all-pervading, all-ruling Love and Justice, is it, to imagine that the human race (which I regard as one) advances, from a beginning necessarily imperfect, onward and onward towards perfection, by its own energy; although indeed the germ of that energy be implanted by the love of the Most Highest! The golden age of mankind, says the Duke de St. Simon, very justly, is not behind, but before us. Our age might be called (rather for the will than the power) the mystic age. True mysticism is indeed rare; but it must be confessed that it is a most skilful and profitable invention of the worldly-wise, to throw a cloak of titular mysticism over absurdity itself. Behind this curtain, unhappily, lurk many things,--even that original sin which our modern mystics dwell upon so much. Some years ago I was in a very intelligent party, though small in number,--consisting only of a lady and two gentlemen. An argument arose concerning original sin. The lady and I declared ourselves against the doctrine,--the two gentlemen, for it, though perhaps, more for the sake of letting off some intellectual fireworks than from conviction. "Yes," said our antagonists at length, "the doctrine of original sin is doubtless true: like the new French Charter, it was the impulse towards knowledge forcing its way. With the gratification of this impulse came evil into the world; which, however, was also necessary to our purification,--to our _own_ merit, the only thing truly meritorious." "On this interpretation," replied I, turning to my ally, "we may be content to admit it; for this is only our own meaning in other words,--a schooling--the necessary transition from bad to better, by the help of our own experience and acquired wisdom." "Certainly," added the lady; "only then you ought not to call it _hereditary sin_."[74] "'Gnädige Frau,'" answered one of our antagonists, "we will not quarrel about the name; if you like it better, we will call it _hereditary nobility_ for the future." After all these profound and subtle reflections, I made the discovery to-day that the most frivolous people in the world do actually reflect on their own minds and characters. An Austrian of rank who has been here some time, did me the favour to give me the following counsels of practical philosophy, which I must record literally for the sake of their originality.