In compliment to him, I paid more attention to politics than I had done before, for he was a “great Whig,” and uncommonly liberal in everything, – but money! Hence, Paul, the origin of my political principles; and, I thank Heaven, there is not now a rogue in England who is a better, that is to say, more of a moderate, Whig than your humble servant! I continued with him nearly a year. He discharged me for a fault worthy of my genius, – other servants may lose the watch or the coat of their master; I went at nobler game and lost him – his private character!’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Why I was enamoured of a lady who would not have looked at me as Mr Tomlinson; so I took my master’s clothes, and occasionally his carriage, and made love to my nymph, as Lord —. Her vanity made her indiscreet. The Tory papers got hold of it; and my master, in a change of ministers, was declared by George the Third to be “too gay for a Chancellor of the Exchequer.” An old gentleman who had had fifteen children by a wife like a Gorgon, was chosen instead of my master: and although the new minister was a fool in his public capacity, the moral public were perfectly content with him, because of his private virtues!

‘My master was furious, made the strictest inquiry, found me out, and turned me out too!

‘A Whig not in place has an excuse for disliking the constitution. My distress almost made me a republican; but, true to my creed, I must confess that I would only have levelled upwards. I especially disaffected the inequality of riches: I looked moodily on every carriage that passed: I even frowned like a second Catiline at the steam of a gentleman’s kitchen! My last situation had not been lucrative; I had neglected my perquisites, in my ardour for politics. My master, too, refused to give me a character: – who would take me without one?

‘I was asking myself this melancholy question one morning, when I suddenly encountered one of the fine friends I had picked up at my old haunt, the ordinary, in St James’s. His name was Pepper.’

‘Pepper!’ cried Paul.

Without heeding the exclamation, Tomlinson continued.

‘We went to a tavern and drank a bottle together. Wine made me communicative; it also opened my comrade’s heart. He asked me to take a ride with him that night towards Hounslow: I did so, and found a purse.’

‘How fortunate! Where?’

‘In a gentleman’s pocket. – I was so pleased with my luck, that I went the same road twice a-week, in order to see if I could pick up any more purses. Fate favoured me, and I lived for a long time the life of the blest. Oh, Paul, you know not – you know not what a glorious life is that of a highwayman: but you shall taste it one of these days; you shall, on my honour.

‘I now lived with a club of honest fellows: we called ourselves “The Exclusives,” for we were mighty reserved in our associates, and only those who did business on a grand scale were admitted into our set. For my part, with all my love for my profession, I liked ingenuity still better than force, and preferred what the vulgar call swindling, even to the highroad. On an expedition of this sort, I rode once into a country town, and saw a crowd assembled in one corner, – I joined it, and, – guess my feelings! Beheld my poor friend, Viscount Dunshunner, just about to be hanged! I rode off as fast as I could, – I thought I saw Jack Ketch at my heels. My horse threw me at a hedge, and I broke my collar-bone. In the confinement that ensued, gloomy ideas floated before me. I did not like to be hanged! So I reasoned against my errors, and repented. I recovered slowly, returned to town, and repaired to my cousin the bookseller. To say truth, I had played him a little trick: collected some debts of his by a mistake – very natural in the confusion incident on my distresses. However, he was extremely unkind about it; and the mistake, natural as it was, had cost me his acquaintance.

‘I went now to him with the penitential aspect of the prodigal son, and, ’faith, he would not have made a bad representation of the fatted calf about to be killed on my return: so corpulent looked he, and so dejected! “Graceless reprobate!” he began, “your poor father is dead!” I was exceedingly shocked! But – never fear, Paul, I am not about to be pathetic. My father had divided his fortune among all his children; my share was £500. The possession of this sum made my penitence seem much more sincere in the eyes of my good cousin! And after a very pathetic scene, he took me once more into favour. I now consulted with him as to the best method of laying out my capital and recovering my character. We could not devise any scheme at the first conference; but the second time I saw him, my cousin said, with a cheerful countenance, “Cheer up, Augustus, I have got thee a situation. Mr Asgrave, the banker, will take thee as a clerk. He is a most worthy man; and having a vast deal of learning, he will respect thee for thy acquirements.” The same day I was introduced to Mr Asgrave, who was a little man with a fine bald benevolent head; and after a long conversation which he was pleased to hold with me, I became one of his quill-drivers. I don’t know how it was, but by little and little I rose in my master’s good graces: I propitiated him, I fancy, by disposing of my £500 according to his advice: he laid it out for me, on what he said was famous security, on a landed estate. Mr Asgrave was of social habits, – he had a capital house and excellent wines. As he was not very particular in his company, nor ambitious of visiting the great, he often suffered me to make one of his table, and was pleased to hold long arguments with me about the ancients.