A little before twelve, we took a cab, and went to the two Houses of
Parliament--the most immense building, methinks, that ever was built; and
not yet finished, tho it has now been occupied for years. Its exterior
lies hugely along the ground, and its great unfinished tower is still
climbing toward the sky; but the result (unless it be the river-front,
which I have not yet seen) seems not very impressive. The interior is much
more successful. Nothing can be more magnificent and gravely gorgeous than
the Chamber of Peers--a large oblong hall, paneled with oak, elaborately
carved, to the height of perhaps twenty feet. Then the balustrade of the
gallery runs around the hall, and above the gallery are six arched windows
on each side, richly painted with historic subjects. The roof is
ornamented and gilded, and everywhere throughout there is embellishment of
color and carving on the broadest scale, and, at the same time, most
minute and elaborate; statues of full size in niches aloft; small heads of
kings, no bigger than a doll; and the oak is carved in all parts of the
paneling as faithfully as they used to do it in Henry VII.'s time--as
faithfully and with as good workmanship, but with nothing like the variety
and invention which I saw in the dining-room of Smithell's Hall. There the
artist wrought with his heart and head; but much of this work, I suppose,
was done by machinery.
It is a most noble and splendid apartment, and, tho so fine, there is not
a touch of finery; it glistens and glows with even a somber magnificence,
owing to the deep, rich hues and the dim light, bedimmed with rich colors
by coming through the painted windows. In arched recesses, that serve as
frames, at each end of the hall, there are three pictures by modern
artists from English history; and tho it was not possible to see them well
as pictures, they adorned and enriched the walls marvelously as
architectural embellishments. The Peers' seats are four rows of long sofas
on each side, covered with red morocco; comfortable seats enough, but not
adapted to any other than a decorously exact position. The woolsack is
between these two divisions of sofas, in the middle passage of the
floor--a great square seat, covered with scarlet, and with a scarlet
cushion set up perpendicularly for the Chancellor to lean against. In
front of the woolsack there is another still larger ottoman, on which he
might lie at full length--for what purpose intended, I know not. I should
take the woolsack to be not a very comfortable seat, tho I suppose it was
originally designed to be the most comfortable one that could be
contrived.
The throne is the first object you see on entering the hall, being close
to the door; a chair of antique form, with a high, peaked back, and a
square canopy above, the whole richly carved and quite covered with
burnished gilding, besides being adorned with rows of rock crystals--which
seemed to me of rather questionable taste....
We next, after long contemplating this rich hall, proceeded through
passages and corridores to a great central room, very beautiful, which
seems to be used for purposes of refreshment, and for electric telegraphs;
tho I should not suppose this could be its primitive and ultimate design.
Thence we went into the House of Commons, which is larger than the Chamber
of Peers, and much less richly ornamented, tho it would have appeared
splendid had it come first in order. The Speaker's chair, if I remember
rightly, is loftier and statelier than the throne itself. Both in this
hall and in that of the Lords we were at first surprized by the narrow
limits within which the great ideas of the Lords and Commons of England
are physically realized; they would seem to require a vaster space. When
we hear of members rising on opposite sides of the House, we think of them
but as dimly discernible to their opponents, and uplifting their voices,
so as to be heard afar; whereas they sit closely enough to feel each
other's spheres, to note all expression of face, and to give the debate
the character of a conversation. In this view a debate seems a much more
earnest and real thing than as we read it in a newspaper. Think of the
debaters meeting each other's eyes, their faces flushing, their looks
interpreting their words, their speech growing into eloquence, without
losing the genuineness of talk! Yet, in fact, the Chamber of Peers is
ninety feet long and half as broad and high, and the Chamber of Commons is
still larger.