How He became a Peer

Chapter I

Things went very badly with Ceorge Walsh, the bookmaker, in the year 1840, when he was twenty-five years old. He had entered the profession as a mere lad, and for some five or six years had managed to hold his own at Epsom, Ascot and Good wood. His natural acuteness enabled him to pick up sufficient to maintain a small estab lishment in the neighbourhood of AVindsor, and to run up to town for an occasional spree. But lately the most vivid inspirations of the Goddess of Luck, and the most careful calcula tions, had proved fallacious, and he had lost continually. The partner of his chequered fortunes — -a very junior partner — was an un- VOL. I. A fortunate girl whom he had found starving 0 * ' in the streets of London, who served him as a useful drudge, ready to undergo any hardship and submit to any degradation, in return for daily bread.

There was no pre tence, on his part, of affection. The poor girl believed what he was continually telling her. J 0 — that he had saved her life ; and she regarded him with the cringing, unexacting love which the whipped hound feels for a brutal master. He now plainly told her that, if the run of ill luck continued, she would have to look out for herself. In 1841, when his condition had become almost desperate, he went to Ascot on the first day of the meeting, to try his luck once more, and either to "pull off something bio-," J- 0 0" or to retire from the field a beaten and disgraced beggar. He had "a friend" in Lord Haverford's stable, in whom he had um bounded confidence, and from whom he hoped to get the " straight tip." On the strength of his expectations, he ordered a smart racing costume for himself, and even allowed poor Sally to order a five shilling, very remarkable, bonnet, which she had seen and coveted in the Edgware Road.- Hozv He became a Peer 3 On the morning of the 18 th of June they started from AVindsor, with several other " sportsmen," in a huge brake-and-four, and arrived very early on the course.

The weather was all that could be desired, and George, in spite of all the troubles which lowered around him, was in the highest spirits. On this and the following day he was fairly successful in winning a few small bets, but his whole attention was fixed on the main event — the contest for the Cup — which was to come off on the third day — Thursday. All but George himself and a few others, who boasted of being " well in with the principal stables," were in a state of anxious doubt as to the merits and chances of the two fav ourites — Robin Hood and Hiawatha — which were generally considered to be as nearly as possible equal in form. But George had certain information that Robin's wind was touched, and that he had coughed during the two last nights ; and on the strength of this last in formation he increased his bets on the Cup considerably.

In the third aud fourth race he lost some £20, but he was not greatly disturbed by this, as the Cup would set all right and land him with a heavy balance to the good. He was, however, sufficiently anxious to go and see Lord Haverford's stud groom and get further encouragement from him. He found Stead in the paddock, looking rather pale and downcast. " How is Hiawatha ? " asked George. "Oh ! she's all right, I hope." George gasped for breath. "Hope!" said he; "damn your hopes! — what do you mean — is anything wrong ? " "No, not as I knows on," replied Stead sulkily ; " but a mare is a queer animal — like a woman, you never knows what they'll be up to next. At all events, I wouldn't plunge, if I was you." "Oh, that's it, is it? And who told me, only yesterday, that I couldn't lay it on too thick ?

Blast you ! you shall pay for this." If looks could kill, Stead would have been a dead man, but he only laughed. George rushed back to the betting ring and 0 0 0 tried to hedge ; but Robin Hood had already risen in price, while Hiawatha had gone back, and he could do but little. The course, too, was already being cleared for the race which was to decide his fate. Forcing his way through How He beca7iie a Peer 5 the crowd of excited bawlers, he got to a quiet place behind the grand stand, stood still for a few minutes to think, and then joined Sally at the place at which he had ordered her to wait for him. He found her radiant with the delight of wearing her o 0 smart bonnet, and full of joyful anticipations of the coming race. "They say she's sure to win — sure to win ! AVhat luck ! what luck !

" and she capered for joy. . But a glance at George's face, purple with rage, sobered her in a moment. She paused and trembled. " You fool ! you idiot ! listen to me. There's something wrong with Hiawatha ; she may be beaten ; I believe she will. If she is, mark this — I shall be a welsher, for I can't pay a tenth of my losses. I shall be hunted like a wild beast, beaten to a jelly, and, what's more, I can never show on a race course again." Sally uttered a cry of pain and began to sob. "Stop that howling, and listen to me. I am going to those furze bushes there by the side of the road, from which, with my glass, I can see the number of the winner. If Hiawatha is beat, I shall make off to Swinley AVood, near the deer house ; you know the gate. I shall lie close ; come there as soon as it is dark, and I will think what to do.

You stay by the stand and hear how things go. I don't think you'll put them on the scent," he added, with a sneer; "you value your hide too much for that." " Oh ! George," said the miserable woman. "You know I would die to save you." " AVell, you haven't got to do that just yet, but a lot of other things first. Xo humbug ; be off!" He started at a run towards the tall furze bushes mentioned above, without another word. Sally turned towards the grand stand and soon saw the horses nearing the winning post, Hiawatha hopelessly behind. In an other minute, she heard the cry of a thousand triumphant voices, — " Robin Hood, Robin Hood wins ! " Her eyes swam, and it was only by a supreme effort that she could keep herself from falling to the ground. She saw the numbers run up — all doubt was at an end, she and George were outcasts aud wanderers.

Then came the settling. She distinctly heard a man say, " AVhere is George AValsh ? " The question was repeated by a dozen voices, and then came the dread cry of "AVelsher!" A troop of George's creditors began rushing about in search of him. George, as we know, was already out of reach, and the woulcl-be Woodhounds soon returned to the ring, mad with baffled rage. One of them, who had seen Sally with George on the brake, called out, — "There's his woman, in the bonnet. She knows where he is, I'll be bound." Sally ran as fast as she could across the course towards the Drags' enclosure, and was just making her way through the narrow passage between two coaches, when she was caught. As she refused all information re specting George, the infuriated mob tore her bonnet from her head, and would have stripped her clothes from her back, had not two or three young officers lazily descended from their drag and intervened.

"Come, I say," said one of them, "enough of this. She isn't a welsher ; leave her alone." Others then came up and sided with the guardsmen, and a free fight wTas just beginning, when the police appeared, stopped the fray, and rescued the woman from her perse cutors. She remained near her protectors till the races were over, and the vast crowd began to leave the course. She then took the road in the opposite direction to the appointed place of meeting, and sat down under a hedge until nightfall, when she entered Swinley AVood, and found George waiting for her. Judging from himself, he had cherished 0 0 some doubt whether she would stick to him now that he was a beggar and an outcast. George did not know the power of self-sacrifice, so often found even in the most degraded of the female sex ; and Sally was not the most degraded.

He was, therefore, really surprised and pleased, but he took care not to show his satisfaction, and said, — " AVhat have you been about all this time ? It's been dark ever so long." She told him all that had befallen her, which he heard with unconcern, and seemed only to think of the damage done to her bonnet and dress — " his property." "It will be long enough before you get another," he said sneering. " Luckily it isn't paid for, and never will be. But now to business. We must get to London somehow. It won't be safe to go by coach, or by . that new-fangled railway from Slough ; some of our friends might see us. There's nothing for it but to walk. AVe have the whole night before us, and you can get me some prog at the public. I mus'n't show. If we can get to London by ten o'clock to-morrow, we can take the train to Liverpool, and go by the first steamer to New York.

I have money enough for that, thank blazes ! The old country is played out. AVe must see what we can do with the Yankees." Swallowing her rising tears, poor Sally merely said, — " Yes, George, you know best. I am sorry to leave — " " Sorry be d — d ! You'll have worse things to be sorry for before you die. No blather, if you please ; come on ! " Sally procured some food in a neighbouring public house, and partly on foot, and partly on belated carts, in which they got a lift for a few pence, they made their way to London, and started for Liverpool by the mail train at ten o'clock. On the following day tbey found a sailing vessel bound for New York, which they reached towards the end of July. AVe shall not enter into the minute details of their miserable life in New York. George, who was an adept at everything but honest work, managed to pick up a living by frequent ing the low hells which abound in that city. and got occasional well-paid employment as a skilful croupier or billiard-marker, in which employments he found ample scope for clever knavery.

His knowledge of horse flesh and of all turf matters stood him in good stead, and he was greatly admired in the lower regions of the sporting world. AVhile luck befriended him, he lived, as he said, " like an English gentleman." Sometimes, however, his extravagance or ill luck at the gaming table reduced him to beggary, and then he did not scruple to send Sally out into the streets and to private houses, to beg assistance " for a highly respectable, but unfortunate English couple, reduced to poverty bv the rascality of their trustees." But even this re source was soon cut off, for, three months after their arrival in New York, the poor woman, to the infinite disgust and wrath of her lord and master, became the mother of a boy, the subject of tbe following truthful memoir. Harsh and cruel as his treatment of her had always been, it now became much worse.

He considered her conduct in " saddling him with an infernal brat " positively criminal ; and in his drunken moods he often threatened to turn her and her child adrift to manage for themselves. And yet it may be doubted whether the poor mother did not now, for the first time in her life, taste something of real happiness, in tending her child, which she loved and cherished the more intensely because it was the only thing she could call her own — the only creature from whom she could hope for a return of her affection. As George positively refused to allow her anything for its maintenance, she was often obliged to deny herself the bare necessaries of life, that her child might not be subject to the pangs of hunger. As George was often absent from home for days and even weeks, she had opportunity enough for indulging her maternal instinct, and as soon as the little " Jem " was old enough to receive it, she gave him instruc tion in all the little knowledge she her self possessed.

The boy was quick enough and soon learned all that she could teach him. The neglect of his father, and the inability of the mother to control him, encouraged and increased his natural precocity. Slavishly obedient to the former, on the rare occasions when they were thrown together, he soon found out the soft places in his mother's character ; and seeing her despised by others, he learned to despise her too, and to play the tyrant over her. The chief part of his day was spent on the streets in a constant struggle of limbs and wits with other gutter children, from whom he learned to lie and gamble and steal with extraordinary plausibility and skill. He became an especial adept in playing on the credulity and philanthropy of the charit able ladies who abound in New York. He excited their utmost compassion by piteous tales of the neglect and cruelty of his father, and the destitution of his mother and himself.

His success in this line of business was very considerable ; but he carefully concealed his ill-gotten gains from his mother, and still more from his father, who, as he well knew, would have applied them to his own purposes. Thus passed his life until he was fifteen years old, at which age his quick intelligence, his knowdedge of the " seamy " side of Society, his skill in simulation and dissimulation, made him more than a match for most men of twice his age. Such talents deserved a more extended field for their display, and this was soon to be opened to him, by the death of his miserable mother. She died in the month of August 1855, long remembered for its abnormal and deadly heat. George was absent in the gold-fields of South America, where, often at the risk of his life, he gained considerable sums of money by cheat ing the gold-diggers at cards, or by buying the gold dust of the more needy ones at half its value.

Jem, on returning home for his mid day meal, on a clay more than usually sultry and pestiferous, found his mother stretched on the floor, with red and swollen face, apparently quite dead. His first sensation was one of extreme terror at the unwonted presence of death ; then came a momentary gush of some thing like affection for one who had given up her whole life to him. He knelt down and kissed the flushed brow, and tried to call her back to life ; but the dominant selfishness of his nature soon resumed its sway, and he began to think how the removal of his only friend would affect himself. He shuddered at the thought that he should now be left to the tender mercies of his father ; that the prostrate form before him could never again administer to his wants or indulge his fancies. Should he run away and hide himself in the recesses of the great city, which he knew so well, or should he appeal for help and protection to one of the many charitable ladies whom he bad beguiled and plundered ?

He soon decided on the latter course. He would go to Mrs AVhymper, a lady of English birth, the widow of a wealthy American, from whom he had often obtained a good meal, seasoned with the best advice. He found the good lady at her house in 4th Avenue, and with an excitement, partly real, partly feigned, and with a flood of tears, poured forth his tale of woe. She tried to soothe him by kind words and promises of help, and, hearing that his father was absent, she called a servant to go with her to the wretched garret, where poor Sally lay breathing her last. On their arrival they found her still alive, but unconscious, and the doctor, whom they had summoned, shook his head, saying that she had had a stroke of sun-apoplexy, and would not live another hour. Aleantime, Jem filled the air with his lamen tations, and throwing himself beside her, lav ished on her, for the first time in his life, all the endearing epithets which would naturally spring to the lips of a loving child.

Poor Airs Whymper was moved to a passion of tears, kissed the bereaved boy, and took him away from the sad scene to her own house, after giving instructions to her servant to make all necessary arrangements at her expense. Jem was so well pleased with his new quarters that it was with the greatest difficulty that he could keep up the show of grief, which he saw was expected of him. At the funeral, howrever, he played his part to perfection, and many were the expressions from the bystanders of sympathy for the poor boy who had lost so dearly-loved a mother. Jem had been about a fortnight in Airs AVhvmper's house, and she was. already con sidering what she should do with him and for him, when she heard from her servants that his father had returned. The scoundrel had brought considerable plunder with him from the mines, and was prepared to spend it in the delights of New York debauchery.

In his self-complacency he even contemplated throwing a few bones to poor Sally. He heard of her sudden death with a momentary feeling of sorrow and remorse. " Poor old girl, she was a good wench, after all." And where was he to get so useful and so cheap a servant ? He then thought of the boy whom she had left on his hands. He would not stand it ; he would get rid of him in some way or other. But how ? the law could compel him to take charge of his child ! His first step was to wait on Airs Whymper. Knowing from hearsay her gentle and charit able nature, he began by making it a kind of grievance that she had removed his child from his home without his permission. He actually succeeded in putting her into an apologetic attitude, when she explained that she had often seen and befriended the boy, and had found him entirely destitute at his mother's death.

George allowed himself to be pacified when she added that she would now hand him over to his natural guardian, and would do all she could to get him into a good school or situation. This, however, did not at all suit George, who had quite other Hozv He became a Peer 17 views, which he hoped Mrs Whymper would kindly assist him in carrying out. He had, he said, a sister in Hertfordshire who was willing to receive her nephew, and give him what, he said with an inward chuckle, was " so important at his tender age — a mother's care and watchfulness." This was true in part. This rogue and vagabond had a sister who was, in all respects, the very opposite to himself in character and mode of life. As a girl, she had entered the service of Lord AVitchingham, and had risen, step by step, to the important and lucrative post of confidential housekeeper at AVitching ham Hall.

It was not true, however, that she had consented to receive her nephew, of whose very existence she was unaware. After doing all in her power, at an earlier period, to influence her brother for good, she had seen the futility of her efforts, and all inter course between them had long ago ceased. At first Mrs AVhymper was inclined to point out to AValsh that it was his duty to keep the boy near himself, and to procure for him some honest employment ; but the whole air and aspect of the man filled her with aversion and distrust, which were greatly vol. 1. b increased when she saw father and son to gether. She had summoned the boy, who had no sooner set eyes on AValsh — of whose return he had not been told — than, with a suppressed cry of alarm, he ran behind Airs AVhyinper's chair. George had been getting up a show of pleasure and affection, but the boy's reception of him soon changed his aspect, and he flew into a furious rage. 0 " Come out of that, you little beggar — what d'yer mean ?

" Jem declined the invitation and began to whine. " Yer see, ma'am," said George with forced composure, " what it is to have an ungrateful child ! " Mrs AVhymper said nothing, but drew her own conclusions. She at once expressed her approval of Walsh's plan for the boy, and added that she was willing to let him remain in her house until arrangements had been made for his migration to England. George expressed some reluctance to part with his " only child," but he was really delighted, and considered that he was now practically quit of the "little beast " for ever. Taking leave of Airs AVhymper, and with out taking any further notice of Jem, he went home and despatched a hypocritical letter to his sister, who, though unmarried, bore the brevet title of " Airs " AValsh. He expressed the deepest contrition for his past conduct, and besought her to save his " dear, motherless son " from a disreputable and unhappy fate like his own.

About a month later (during which Jem revelled in the fat pastures of the servants' hall at Airs Whymper's, and did all he could to conciliate his patroness and the leading members of her household) a kind answer arrived from Airs AValsh, consenting to receive her nephew, and to procure for him a place as page in some family, perhaps in that of her own master — Lord Witchingham. George blessed his sister for a " green old fool," treated himself to an extra quantity of hot gin and water, and went to bed in a state of drunken felicity. As soon as he was sufficiently sober to be presentable, he told Airs AVhymper the good news from England, and the good lady asked him what it would cost to send the boy to his destination. George, with a show of mock modesty, said that he hoped she would not take it amiss if he expressed his unwilling ness to let so young a boy go in the steerage, as he might be thrown into bad company.

He then named a sum about double the second - class fare, which Airs AVhymper paid without further inquiry, and added a twenty-five dollar note for contingencies and pocket-money. George took leave, with a profusion of thanks, saying that he would call for his son on the following Alonday, and take him on board the packet. On the appointed day, Jem took leave of his kind patroness with unfeigned regret (could he ever be so well fed again ?), and accompanied his father to the vessel in which the latter had managed to get a steerage berth O O 0 at half-price. On the way to the quay he gave his son a little fatherly advice. "Now remember, you young gallows-bird, if you play any of your pranks in England, and get sent back to me, by G— I'll skin you alive ! " Jem made no answer as long as he was within reach of his father's heavy hand, of which he knew the exact weight; but as soon as all communication with the shore had been cut off, he put his thumb to his nose, and shouted, — " Yah !

I'll write to Airs Whymper about my berth in the steerage." This was the parting of father and son. George turned purple with rage, and shook his fist, at which the boy screamed with laughter. " Never mind," said George, as he sauntered homewards, taking a bundle of notes from his pocket. " I made a pretty good job of that — saved fifty dollars passage-money, and twenty dollars pocket-money — not so bad ! It would have ruined the young scoundrel to have so much ready cash to gamble with. Not so bad — why, I'd have given any fellow a hun dred to drown him, if there was no other way. Lord, wThat fools these good women are ! AVhat should we do without 'em ? " As soon as his father was out of sight, Jem performed a joyous breakdown on the deck, to the great astonishment ofthe other passengers, who were sad at parting with kinsfolk and friends.

Jem was wild with delight at the thought that the Atlantic would soon roll between him and his father. Having " worked off the steam," as he called it, he went down to the cabin, which he was to share with a dozen others, and made himself as comfortable as circumstances permitted, without too much reo-ard to the rights or convenience of his 0 0 fellow-passengers. He sadly missed the comforts and good living he had enjoyed at Airs AVhymper's, but he was one of the pejoraque passi, and in the slums of New York had gone through all the ills to which flesh is heir. Jem AValsh was now fifteen years old. His appearance, as he was well aware, was by no means prepossessing. He had inherited the white, unwholesome, tallow-like face of his father, his low, broad forehead, and his pro jecting lower jaw.

His bead-like eyes, which were very close together, glittered like jet, and were ever in motion. The bridge of his nose had been indented by a heavy blow from a stick, giving the outline of that feature the undulation so often seen in the profiles of pugilists. His ears were large and stood out from the head, and his short hair was coarse aud stiff. But perhaps the most characteristic feature was the long, hard, solid upper lip, which, with the low forehead, gave the face its criminal type. On the other hand he was, and even looked, remarkably intelligent. His manner was insinuating, and when he wished to do so, he could make himself pleasant, in spite of his remarkable ugliness, of which he was quite aware. His imagination had been excited to the utmost by the anticipation of a career in England — perhaps in the golden streets of London, of which he had heard so much.

It had been represented to him as a land in which kings and nobles bore absolute sway over the inferior classes ; and it was one of his most ardent desires to see one of these exalted beings in the flesh. Childlike, he pictured them to himself as arrayed in silken robes and golden coronets, and bearing in their whole aspect the impress of their exalted rank. One of the sailors had told him that there wTas actually a lord on board, who was taking an American heiress back with him as his wife. As he could not venture into the first-class saloon, or even on to the main-deck, he would spend hours in watching the first class passengers from the nearest point ; but he saw no one at all answering to his concep tion. He was little aware that the great man had several times passed close to him in the fore-part of the vessel.

He was never tired of questioning the English passengers in the steerage about the manners and customs of their country. Alost of these were returning emigrants, whose hopes of acquiring a rapid fortune in the promised land had been rudely blighted, and who were now inclined to think better of the old home. From them he received glowing 0 0 accounts of the possibilities of English life, " If you are but lucky. If a man worked hard, and didn't drink, he was sure to meet with rich people who would help him, and to get on ! " "Could a low-born man," asked Jem, "ever rise to be a gentleman ? " " Certainly he could, if he only got money enough, and ' behaved himself.' ' " Was it ever heard of — this he asked hesi tatingly, and with bated breath — 'that a common man had become a lord, or are they made different ?

" The man to whom he put the question, an Irish groom, who, in the exercise of his calling, had come across some queer specimens of aristocracy, burst into a loud laugh. " Lord bless you for a simpleton." He then poured forth numerous instances, Hozv He became a Peer 25 mostly drawn from his imagination, of poor boys who had gone to London barefooted, with fourpence in their pockets, had thriven, mar ried heiresses, and become foremost leaders in the House of Lords. After such exciting conversation, Jem would retire to his berth and indulge in gorgeous dreams of future glory. Yes, he would be come rich ; he would be a gentleman, perhaps ? — he hardly dared to go further, even in thought. 0 But how ? AVhat cards had he to play in the great game for wealth and honour ? He thought of his own defects.