'His first question was concerning the security I had to give? I had
none! The Jew shook his head, and told me it was impossible to lend
money without security. I replied, that if making over the profits
of my tragedy to the amount of the principal and interest would but
satisfy him, to that I should willingly consent. Again he shrugged his
shoulders, and repeated it was very dangerous. Jews themselves, kind
as they were, could not lend money without security. Beside, money
was never so scarce as just at that moment. Indeed he had no such sum
himself; but he had an uncle, in Duke's Place, who, if I could but
get good _personal_ security, would supply me, on paying a premium
adequate to the risk.
'I must avoid being too circumstantial. I urged every incitement my
imagination could honestly suggest: he pretended to state the matter
to his uncle. The affair was kept in suspence, and I was obliged to
travel to Duke's Place at least a dozen times: but, at last I gave my
bond for a hundred pounds; for which I received fifty, and paid two
guineas out of it, on the demand of the nephew, for the trouble he
had taken in negociating the business; the uncle being the ostensible
person with whom it was transacted.
'Determined to secure my mother from want as far as was in my power,
I remitted the whole sum to her, except what was necessary to pay
my immediate debts; and blessed the Jew extortioner, as a man who,
compared to the learned lady, abounded in the milk of human kindness!
'By the continuance of my literary drudgery, the time passed away
to the middle of September; the season at which the winter theatres
usually open. I now felt tenfold anxiety concerning my tragedy. The
bond I had given at six months would soon become due; failure would
send me to prison, perhaps for life; it would disgrace me, would
distract my family, would cut short my hopes of fame, and the grand
progress which I sometimes fondly imagined I should make. Every way it
would be fatal! I trembled at its possibility. Success, which had so
lately appeared certain, seemed to become more and more dubious.
'During the summer, I had heard nothing from the manager. I now
inquired at the theatre, and was told he was at Bath, and would not
be in town in less than a fortnight. I waited with increasing fears,
haunted the play-house, and teazed the attendants at it with my
inquiries. Of these I soon perceived not only the sneers but the
duplicity; for, when the manager was returned to town, and, as I was
told by a performer, was actually in the theatre, they affirmed the
contrary! He had been, but was gone! I plainly read the lie in their
looks to each other. At that time it was new to me, and gave me
great pain; but I soon became accustomed though never reconciled to
their manners; which were characterized by that low cunning, that
supercilious mixture of insolence and meanness, that is always
detested by the honest and the open. A set of--Pshaw! They are
unworthy my remembrance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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