Palace and Hovel; Or, Phases of London Life

by Daniel Joseph Kirwan

That mild-looking, dark-faced man, with neat attire and jeweled fingers, who comes in almost stealthily from behind the Speaker's chair, and takes his seat upon the Ministerial Bench, is Goschen, who represents London, and is a member of the Cabinet, President of the Poor Law Board, and son of a Leipsic bookseller of moderate circumstances.

Mr. Goschen is evidently of Jewish origin, and his rise to power has been speedy. He is still a young man—of polished manners, and more than any other member in Parliament represents the moneyed interests of the great city for which he sits. He is a Rugby and Oriel College man, and was at one time Vice-President of the Board of Trade, and afterwards Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Yet he is scarcely developing the statesmanlike power which was predicted for him by his friends who had watched his career as a Director in the Bank of England, and as the author of essays and treatises on some topics of political economy.

The middle-sized gentleman, inclined to baldness, wearing a brown coat and a mixed trousers, with straps at the bottom of the latter, and who has a slight fringe of whiskers and a round bright eye, is no less a personage than the Marquis of Hartington, Postmaster-General, a member of the Cabinet, heir presumptive to the Dukedom of Devonshire, the Earldom of Burlington, Baron Cavendish in Derbyshire and Baron Cavendish in York, chiefly celebrated for his advocacy of the Confederacy in Parliament, and a man of not exceedingly great calibre as a debater or thinker; but from the possessions which he will one day inherit in this broad and merry England, a man of most decided influence and power. He has for his family motto, "Secure in Caution," and generally sticks to it in the House.

In his young days, it is hinted that the Marquis of Hartington was in the habit of going home very late with his night key in his coat-tail pocket, and at one time it is said that the notorious "Skittles," (since dead,) had emblazoned on her handsome brougham—presented her by the Marquis—the crest of the now steady and religiously inclined Postmaster-General of Great Britain. He is just now conversing with a tall, black-whiskered man, of sharp features and equally sharp accent, in drab clothing. This is George Armistead, M.P. for Dundee, formerly a Russia merchant, and said to be a good man on committees.

A medium-sized, dark-faced, and portly person in black clothes walks in slowly by the Speaker and seats himself, with his hat bent forward over his eyes, and having a book, whose leaves he is cutting, in his hand. This is Alexander James Beresford-Hope, one of the two M.P.'s for Cambridge University—the other being the Right Hon. Spencer Horatio Walpole, whose mother was Countess of Egmont.

Mr. Beresford-Hope is part proprietor of that well known weekly and satirical journal, the Saturday Review, and is or has been a writer for the same sheet. During the Civil War in America, Mr. Beresford-Hope spoke early and often in support of the Confederacy while in Parliament, and also wrote a book favoring Jefferson Davis and his cause. In this course he had no more ardent colleague than the gentleman who now approaches him with his head moving from right to left, in a nervous fashion—I mean William Henry Gregory, member for Galway.

PEERS IN THE GALLERY.

Mr. Hope is no doubt a good liver, and is a member of the Carlton, Athenæum, University, Oxford and Cambridge, and New University Clubs, where, possibly, he has a great opportunity to study cookery as a fine art. His fellow member from Cambridge, who stands toying with his watch chain and drumming on the floor, bears the imposing name of Spencer Walpole, and has no decided individuality in the House. Both Hope and Walpole are Conservatives, and are sadly shocked at the continued majorities of Mr. Gladstone.

The man just now speaking from notes is Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Robert Anstruther, of the Grenadier Guards, member for Fifeshire, a Harrow man, and an earnest liberal of the Scotch stamp.

The little old man in evening dress, pale face, and having a circle of white beard around his throat, who is playing with his fingers nervously, is The O'Conor Don, member for Roscommon, who is looked up to by all the Irish members.