Eb in England--Historical Trust Sites #1

[Ebony AKA AngieJ]

Hello, OT-Chatters--

For some reason I have no ability to keep a personal journal... but 
since I do have free and portable computer access (!), I have been 
corresponding with family, college friends, and of course my 
fandoms.  A couple of people have e-mailed or IMed to say that 
they're enjoying the accounts of my stay here, so from time to time 
I'll post... and once I'm back home, I can search the archives and 
pull things together for my own keeping.

Today I saw some of the older National Trust sites:  Stonehenge, 
Salisbury Cathedral, Old Sarum, and Amebury.  Of the first and the 
last I have little to say... the ropes that they're recently put in 
place to discourage graffiti and chipping were a bummer.  I wanted to 
get close, but the barriers and the crowds ruined the experience for 
me.

Salisbury Cathedral was a different story.  To tell you the truth, it 
was the one stop on the route I wasn't all that crazy about before we 
got there.  After all, I've been in a thousand churches.  What was 
one more?

The lot of us came in really loud, I think... the staff kept shushing 
the group.  Some of those in our group got highly offended at the 
reprimand... I should say that we have some working adults and some 
elderly among us, but our group has a huge contingent of teens and 
early-20er college students who get bored with the tours and take off 
for the nearest pub.  :-)  Some even left the first play in Stratford 
Wednesday after intermission to do this, saying loudly how boring it 
was.  No wonder people can't stand Americans!  Anyway...

Old soul that I am, several of us went on into the cathedral.  I was 
mildly interested at first.

And then one of my Indian friends who was walking alongside me drew 
back, horrified.

"We're stepping on people's graves!"

I looked down... and that was the end of me.  From that point on, it 
was like I was transported into some weird emotional experience.  I 
read the gravestones, gasped over the tombs (some of the names of the 
dignitaries interred there I recognized from literature and history 
studies), and did some other personal spiritual-related things there 
that I won't share.

I had been previously told that cathedrals in Britain and on the 
continent have great choirs, organists, etc. but it really didn't 
register.  Now (and I need to share this bit for context) I've gotten 
away from listening to a lot of classical music because it was ALL we 
were allowed to listen to at home on school nights growing up.  Music 
theory and appreciation were not offered in our inner-city schools 
while I was growing up, so Mom (much to our EMBARASSMENT) would teach 
us at home.  "Close your eyes and listen... what instrument is being 
featured right now?  What composer does this sound like?"  I am NOT 
making this up.  She used to make us sick!

I'm sure my mother and father accomplished what they set out to do--I 
play four instruments (quite proficient on flute and bassoon, 
passable clarinet and piccolo) and my younger sister Danielle until 
recently sang contralto with a local chorale whose concerts and 
recordings do quite well.   :::laughing::: But I was *sick* of my 
parents' "only classical and jazz, with *maybe* a little classic soul 
thrown in, are worth listening to" ethos by the time I reached 
adulthood... so I ditched it all in favor of hip-hop and neosoul.  :-)

Today I couldn't stop crying... for some of the music I heard was 
music that I am familiar with either through playing it (if you play 
bassoon, then about all you're playing *is* classical) or my sister 
practicing it in the basement.

At the far end of the cathedral, near the chapel of St. Michael the 
Archangel, there was a listening station with music so beatific that 
*everyone* in our group purchased a CD.  The Choristers and Lay 
Vicars are just awesome... they reminded me just why I love classical 
music.  

The hymn that was playing as I was looking into the chapel of St. 
Michael, then up at the high ceiling was "The old order changeth", 
lyrics lifted straight from Tennyson's *Idylls of the King*, "The 
Passing of Arthur":

["And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:]
'The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfills himself in many ways, 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? 
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure! but thou, 
If thou shouldst never see my face again, 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
Both for themselves and those who call them friend? 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God."

So there I stood, utterly destroyed on several levels... Danielle's 
chorale has done this song in concert before IIRC... I thought of the 
painful weeks after Dad first died, when Mom played almost nothing 
*but* classical choral hymn arrangements... but none of that was ever 
so pure, ever as sweet as what I was hearing.  The treble solo 
pricked me--this little boy with this oh-so-angelic voice singing "I 
have lived my life"--the irony of that!  And the soaring chorus 
immediately afterward tore me to piece... "let thy voice rise like a 
fountain!"  And I knew all the hours of practice, of working towards 
perfection... everything I remembered about being a musician... that 
neverending quest to reach for the sublime.

My friends were all moved as well, even those who are not Christian.  
As for me, I was still shaking as we left the main cathedral and 
didn't stop until we were inside the chapter house to see one of the 
original copies of the Magna Carta (which was anticlimatic in 
comparison but still cool, I guess).

My friend Sharon, who has been to Europe on exchange before, has 
warned me:  "If you think *that* was something, wait until you get to 
Westminster and Notre Dame next week."

Another lovely lady who's traveling with us, Adelaide, says that this 
exchange for her is all about self-discovery.

It can be about rediscovery as well, I suppose.  Walking home from 
pub this evening, Adelaide and I could hear the Oxford Philharmonic 
playing (I'm not sure where we were) for the windows were open.  We 
stopped for a moment and just let it wash over us.

My parents were a little disappointed when Danielle and I reached 
adulthood and eventually dropped our music.  Not because they wanted 
me to be the principal in some grand orchestra or for her to be a 
diva, but because they knew what classical training does for the 
development of character and the soul.  All of a sudden I've realized 
how much I have missed it, and I *know* Dani does as well.  I think 
I'll forward this post to my mom, so she'll know that her efforts 
were not in vain.

And I cannot *wait* to get home and play this CD for my mother, my 
sister... and my great-uncle, who was the one who taught my mother to 
appreciate good music in the first place.  

--Ebony (who has so far purchased nothing but classical music over 
here... it just seems to fit the setting so much better than the CDs 
I carted over from the States!)