Of Legacies...

Let me just say it's a good thing that classes have finally started; these past two weeks have been filled with so much blog-worthy touring and sight-seeing that I feel hopelessly behind already! Well, I will endeavor to make some of that time up. Never fear, though: I have to begin work on my gi-normous number of essays, so this is merely a study break. :)

There is one thing I forgot to write about in my last post of "unexpected occurrences," however, which more than deserves mentioning. Many of you who know me well understand that I have a near-familial familiarity with William Pitt the Elder, Earl of Chatham. I spent my entire senior year in high school researching him, crafting both an individual dramatic performance and a paper (published twice!) for History Day about his heroic stand during the Stamp Act Crisis. Pitt had been Prime Minister of England during the French and Indian War, and the lending of his weighty support to the revolutionaries' cause gave them the parliamentary and moral support necessary to continue their burgeoning cause for independence.

Well, my friends and I were walking back from Piccadilly Market the other day when I saw a plaque on the side of a building in between Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. I stepped closer to the wrought-iron fence; afixed on the clean white paint of the exterior was a blue plate with these words:

Here lived three Prime Ministers

WILLIAM PITT

1707-1778

etc.

That inscription, and the "Chatham House" figuring the lintel made my day.

But that was not the only place where the eminent Earl of Chatham made his appearance in my London experience. On Friday morning a friend and I made an absolutely amazing trip to the Houses of Parliament. We have been blessed to be living in London at the absolute perfect time: the summer hours and events at tourist sites are still happening, but at a much less tourist-populated scale. In the case of the Houses of Parliament, overseas visitors can only get tours during these months. Otherwise, they are limited to sitting in on the sessions, which I plan to do, but which is not quite as wonderful as seeing Westminster from the inside out.

Big Ben!

And what a beautiful inside it is! The oldest part of the complex, Westminster Hall, is over 900 years old, erected in 1097 by Richard II. The hall's high, wood beam-supported ceiling and vast space, illuminated by the natural light of enormous glass windows, gave me feeling that I had only just missed a glorious medieval banquet. I could almost see the scarlet and gold tapestries covering the cold block walls and the colors from the stained-glass windows glinting off the golden crowns of 12th-century kings.

Westminster Hall

From there, our guide lead us to the newer part of the palace constructed under Queen Victoria. In 1834, a horrible fire had burned down almost the entire complex; in a heart-breaking, but necessary, moment of decision, Westminster Hall was chosen to be the center of firemen's efforts, and the rest of palace was destroyed. Prince Albert, however, made it his personal quest to rebuild the palace in a way that would constantly remind his wife of the majesty of her British history. Today, when Queen Elizabeth II comes to open the parliamentary sessions, she enters a room surrounded by carvings telling the tale of King Arthur and sits on a medieval-style throne, its fabric worn down from years of Victoria's occupancy. Then she processes, wearing the official state crown, into a room whose walls are covered with giant portraits of the Tudor dynasty, complete with all six of the wives of Henry VIII. From there, an Elizabethan motif, and magnificent frescoes showing the defeat of Napoleon.

Of course, the Queen eventually enters the House of Lords and sits on an unbelievable golden throne, while White Rod signals to Black Rod to bring in members of the House of Commons. As is tradition, Black Rod, who is at the other end of the parliamentary corridor, gets the door to the Commons slammed in his face. He bangs his rod on the door, which bears the mark of over a hundred years' worth of beatings. Then the door opens, and MPs walk slowly, defiantly, to the House of Lords to see the queen. They, after all, are beholden only to the people themselves.

The House of Lords (courtesy of wikipedia, since you are not allowed to take pictures)

The sense of tradition in these halls is, as you can see, overwhelming. Even in the House of Commons (where visitors daren't sit--they haven't been elected!), which was rebuilt after the Blitz of World War II, one can't escape an admiration for the grandeur of eight hundred years of England's conception of democracy. The ideals of Magna Carta ring out in every hall, from the wooden arch in the Commons to which the speaker is dragged (recalling the position's original, inherent danger with the consequences of angering the monarch), to the built-in microphones of the maroon cushions on which sit the twenty-first century peers: people foremost in the fields of science, art, theatre, even sport. William Pitt, the fearless orator and defender of personal liberty and commerce (albeit, to a degree), whose statue is passed by every visitor entering the central lobby, would be proud.