“Why pay Jenkins? Why not pay me? You’ve used me shamefully, and you must take the consequences.”
Writs and executions poured in, and in every direction Mathews beheld the harpies of the law waiting to spring upon him, and the thousands he paid were partially swallowed up in legal expenses and interest. The hydra-headed monster, sixty per cent. was always about his legs. His shifts and escapades during this period read like passages from one of those comedies to which he used to impart such amusement by his animal spirits and humours. Some of the stories told by Mathews of his impecunious day, smack of a grim humour. Borrowing money at sixty per cent., he informs us, is not the facile operation some imagine, and, he adds, is attended by risk and worry even worse than the fearful percentage. He well remembered, after a fortnight of very hot weather and thinly attended seats at his theatre, having occasion to borrow two hundred pounds to patch up the Saturday’s treasury, and making application to a bill-discounter three days before wanting the money.
“Ah, Mr. Mathews! how d’ye do? Glad to see you. Have a glass of sherry.”
“No, thank you. I want a couple of hundred pounds to-morrow.”
“Certainly, with pleasure. How long do you want it for? Have a glass of sherry?”
“Say three months.”
“None.”
“Very good—I must have a warrant of attorney.”
“Of course.”