The most important word in any language, and November 22nd

I set my alarm for 8am this morning so that I would have time to shower before breakfast at 8:30. I didn’t get up until 8:30. Apparently I’m not quite used to waking up at 3am Eastern time. Breakfast was fine, with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, cereal, juice, etc. Usual breakfast fare. I enjoyed it.

I showered after that, and then went over to the Accommodation Office to see about getting internet in my room. Ms. O’Donnell gave me (and most everyone else who wanted internet in their rooms) the proper instructions, but it simply didn’t work for me or anyone else when we got back to our respective rooms. I gave up around 10:20 and decided to see if I could catch the tour or punting lesson, which as I mentioned before were both (originally) supposed to leave at 10. Alas, they had already gone. I came back to my room and read and took a nap until it was time for the 1:30 tour.

Our tour guide, Sheila, met us at the Porter’s Lodge, and led us to the oldest building at the center of Cambridge—St. Benet’s Church, built in 1026. Sheila is, in a word, a pistol. She reminded me a bit of my grandmother in that she could talk all day and all night about anything, though her favorite topic was obviously Cambridge. “What is the most important word in any language?” she asked at one point. “I’ve had some good answers in the past—money, sex, beer…” When no one had a reasonable guess, she gave the answer, “Why.” She then launched into an explanation as to why the road through the center of Cambridge was straight. “It’s a Roman road of course. The English have never made a straight road in all their history.” I took a video of her talking to us inside King's College Chapel. It's only about 30 seconds long and not all that interesting, but it gives you an idea of her style. You'll have to pardon my friend's head blocking part of the camera.

Sheila led us to Cavendish Laboratory, est. 1884, where the Atom and DNA were discovered, and where the idea for the computer was first invented by Babbage in the early 1900s and then later brought to fruition by Turing. The first Professor of Cavendish Laboratory was one James Clark Maxwell, author of Maxwell’s equations and perhaps the third most important physicist of all time, behind Einstein and Newton. The Cavendish is just tiny; it’s really quite remarkable that so many important discoveries were made in this one little building. It remained in use until 1974, when the new Cavendish was built a little bit outside the central city. Next to the new Cav is the Gates building. Bill Gates, that is, who also has a scholarship named in his honor which allows foreign students to study here at Cambridge. Cambridge professors have won 73 Nobel Prizes, with the majority being for scientific breakthroughs. Below are a couple pictures of Cavendish.

Our next stop was the Eagle Tavern, where Sheila told us about the ceiling, on which old R.A.F. and American pilots would inscribe their names and squadrons back in World War II. The Eagle is now an official memorial site for World War II pilots, thanks to that practice.

Our next stop was perhaps the most important—King’s College (the grounds pictured on the left), named after King Henry VI, whose mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort convinced him to build a new college in 1441. Since, after all, it was chartered by a King, King’s College is the largest campus in Cambridge, spanning roughly 2 city blocks. It must be twice the size of Christ’s. The highlight of the visit to King’s is the College chapel, where construction began in 1446, but as Sheila said, “Henry VI was not such a good leader, so by 1456 he was—“ (slashing of the throat gesture)”—removed, and the War of the Roses began.” Five different kings, spread out over nearly 70 years, contributed to the construction of King’s College Chapel, until finally in 1515 the main building was completed under Henry VIII. It was probably the last Gothic structure built in the entire world

The organ inside King's College Chapel.

I made note that the Choir of King's College were holding a service today at 5:30pm, with the doors open at 5:15. Sheila said that you ought to get there 15 minutes before the gates opened if you want a good spot.Outside the chapel, Sheila told us about how King’s College was rather poor and in debt until one John Maynard Keynes became Bursar in the 1920s. Keynes managed to bring the College from red to black during the 20 or so years he was Bursar, despite the little problem of the inter-war depression. Rather impressive, I should say.

She also showed us Clare and Trinity College, Clare being the first college chartered by a woman, Lady Elizabeth Clare, in 1338. Sheila went out of her way to point out that Clare was the richest College at Cambridge, "the only one with enough money to rebuild their old school buildings," and made clear that it was no coincidence that the richest school was one chartered by a woman. Trinity is perhaps the most prestigious College at Cambridge, at least in the academic world, having received 31 Nobel Prizes. The grounds of all the colleges are just lovely. Trinity especially is just huge, and all you need do is step out of the back of the grounds and there's the river, with people picnicking alongside and punting along in it.

It was at this point that the tour ended, so I made my way back toward Christ's, making sure to stop and buy a map of Cambridge for a pound. I was hoping to find someone who would join me in seeing the King's College Choir, but everyone I ran into was on their way off to do other things.

So I set out at a quarter to 5, and got there with plenty of time to spare and got in the queue to go in. Once we were inside and seated, the organ began it's voluntary. Right on schedule the choir arrived, led by the choir master and the celebrant. They filed into pews on each side of the chapel (all the pews faced each other). The singers were marvelous, and the acoustic was perfect. The Nunc Dimittis was particularly impressive. Then came time for the Anthem.

The Choir filed up to the altar and faced the "congregation" (it was mainly tourists, of course), as the celebrant announced the piece:

"The anthem this evening is a setting by Benjamin Britten, of a poem by W.H. Auden, called 'The Hymn to St. Cecilia.'"

I swear I am not making this up. Cue unmitigated glee from me. My face lit up. I could hardly control my excitement, my anticipation. These voices, in this space, singing that song. (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, The William and Mary Choir rehearsed that song during my entire freshman year but only performed it once, at the very last concert of the year. It's one of my favorite choral pieces of all time.) The Celebrant continued, "Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians, and her day, November 22nd, happens to be Mr. Britten's birthday. Blessed Cecilia appear in visions to all musicians, appear and inspire." It was as if the spirit of Dr. James Armstrong himself was inhabiting this old Anglican priest.

And then they started singing. How can I possibly describe it? It was the greatest single performance of choral work I've ever witnessed, and it was completely second nature to them. The part where the sopranos sing "love me" all on their own on whatever note it is (an E or an F or it doesn't even matter), I swore I would love every single one of those boys for the rest of my life.

And then the soprano solo came in. I could have died. A boy no more than twelve, making the most beautiful sound you've ever heard (with apologies to one Ms. Kate Aument), seemingly without effort, and it just made you ache. It was perfect. What more could I possibly ask after such an experience? I remember reflecting that, if for some reason the trip ended tonight, I think I would be completely satisfied.

I couldn't even join in on the final hymn. I was too... I can't even describe it. It was like weariness. Is it possible to become weary from beauty?