humour a crime," he remarked, "but I think you use too strong a
term." "Not at all," I replied, "if that deserves the name which
is so pernicious to ourselves and our neighbours. Is it not enough
that we want the power to make one another happy, must we deprive
each other of the pleasure which we can all make for ourselves?
Show me the man who has the courage to hide his ill-humour, who
bears the whole burden himself, without disturbing the peace of
those around him. No: ill-humour arises from an inward consciousness
of our own want of merit, from a discontent which ever accompanies
that envy which foolish vanity engenders. We see people happy,
whom we have not made so, and cannot endure the sight." Charlotte
looked at me with a smile; she observed the emotion with which I
spoke: and a tear in the eyes of Frederica stimulated me to proceed.
"Woe unto those," I said, "who use their power over a human heart
to destroy the simple pleasures it would naturally enjoy! All the
favours, all the attentions, in the world cannot compensate for
the loss of that happiness which a cruel tyranny has destroyed."
My heart was full as I spoke. A recollection of many things which
had happened pressed upon my mind, and filled my eyes with tears.
"We should daily repeat to ourselves," I exclaimed, "that we should
not interfere with our friends, unless to leave them in possession
of their own joys, and increase their happiness by sharing it with
them! But when their souls are tormented by a violent passion,
or their hearts rent with grief, is it in your power to afford
them the slightest consolation?

"And when the last fatal malady seizes the being whose untimely
grave you have prepared, when she lies languid and exhausted before
you, her dim eyes raised to heaven, and the damp of death upon her
pallid brow, there you stand at her bedside like a condemned