August 2. 'The weather, you know, has not been balmy; I am now reduced
to think, and am at last content to talk of the weather. Pride must have
a fall[1116]. I have lost dear Mr. Allen, and wherever I turn, the dead
or the dying meet my notice, and force my attention upon misery and
mortality. Mrs. Burney's escape from so much danger, and her ease after
so much pain, throws, however, some radiance of hope upon the gloomy
prospect. May her recovery be perfect, and her continuance long. I
struggle hard for life. I take physick, and take air; my friend's
chariot is always ready. We have run this morning twenty-four miles, and
could run forty-eight more. _But who can run the race with death?_'
'Sept. 4. [Concerning a private transaction, in which his opinion was
asked, and after giving it he makes the following reflections, which are
applicable on other occasions.] Nothing deserves more compassion than
wrong conduct with good meaning; than loss or obloquy suffered by one
who, as he is conscious only of good intentions, wonders why he loses
that kindness which he wishes to preserve; and not knowing his own
fault, if, as may sometimes happen, nobody will tell him, goes on to
offend by his endeavours to please. I am delighted by finding that our
opinions are the same. You will do me a real kindness by continuing to
write. A post-day has now been long a day of recreation.'
Nov. 1. 'Our correspondence paused for want of topicks. I had said what
I had to say on the matter proposed to my consideration; and nothing
remained but to tell you, that I waked or slept; that I was more or less
sick. I drew my thoughts in upon myself, and supposed yours employed
upon your book. That your book[1117] has been delayed I am glad, since
you have gained an opportunity of being more exact. Of the caution
necessary in adjusting narratives there is no end. Some tell what they
do not know, that they may not seem ignorant, and others from mere
indifference about truth. All truth is not, indeed, of equal importance;
but, if little violations are allowed, every violation will in time be
thought little; and a writer should keep himself vigilantly on his guard
against the first temptations to negligence or supineness. I had ceased
to write, because respecting you I had no more to say, and respecting
myself could say little good. I cannot boast of advancement, and in
cases of convalescence it may be said, with few exceptions, _non
progredi, est regredi_. I hope I may be excepted. My great difficulty
was with my sweet Fanny[1118], who, by her artifice of inserting her
letter in yours, had given me a precept of frugality[1119] which I was
not at liberty to neglect; and I know not who were in town under whose
cover I could send my letter[1120]. I rejoice to hear that you are all
so well, and have a delight particularly sympathetick in the recovery of
Mrs. Burney.'