"What were you," asked Pantagruel of
Panurge, "without your debts? God preserve me from ever being without
them! Do you think there is anything divine in lending or in crediting
others? No! To owe is the true heroic virtue!"
Yet, whatever may be said in praise of Debt, it has unquestionably a
very seedy side. The man in debt is driven to resort to many sorry
expedients to live. He is the victim of duns and sheriff's officers. Few
can treat them with the indifference that Sheridan did, who put them
into livery to wait upon his guests. The debtor starts and grows pale at
every knock at his door. His friends grow cool, and his relatives shun
him. He is ashamed to go abroad, and has no comfort at home. He becomes
crabbed, morose, and querulous, losing all pleasure in life. He wants
the passport to enjoyment and respect--money; he has only his debts, and
these make him suspected, despised, and snubbed. He lives in the slough
of despond. He feels degraded in others' eyes as well as in his own. He
must submit to impertinent demands, which he can only put off by sham
excuses. He has ceased to be his own master, and has lost the
independent bearing of a man. He seeks to excite pity, and pleads for
time. A sharp attorney pounces on him, and suddenly he feels himself in
the vulture's gripe. He tries a friend or a relative, but all that he
obtains is a civil leer, and a cool repulse.
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