conscious integrity cannot be safely expected either to forget or forgive. I
could only judge of your sentiments by your actions, and your never having
taken the least notice of my little loan in the course of two years, until you
had occasion to apply for further assistance, was in itself, in my mind, a very
suspicious circumstance. You had no reason to conclude me affluent, though i am
willing to put myself to some inconvenience in order to oblige a friend; nor
does it seem either prudent or considerate that you should, in such
circumstances, put yourself to the expense of a journey to Ireland, when those,
perhaps, who had enabled you to perform it were on that very account obliged to
stay at home. The style of your former letter also seemed too easy and flippant
for the occasion; and, in fact, the irritation of my mind had been provoked or
increased about the very same time by a swindling trick of the editor of the Albion, who obtained 5 guineas from me on a false pretence and
promise of punctual payment, but of which i have been able by threats to extort
no more than a couple of pounds, which i presume is the whole i shal ever get.
These transactions, hapening together, brooded in my mind, and made me regard
every one as a confederated conspirator, being, peradventure, like Iago—
‘vicious in my guess,
As i confess it is my nature’s plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not.’
I am much obliged by the handsome and friendly manner in which you profess
yourself to have regarded me: though i confess i had no idea of standing so
fair in your good graces. This is all i can bring myself to say, except that i
am
John Fenwick (d. 1823)
Radical author, improvident newspaper editor, and close friend of William Godwin. His The Indian: A Farce (1800) was produced at Drury Lane.
