Dining Room Chair from the Speaker’s House, Palace of Westminster – A Poem

There was something so steadfast, and slightly pompous, about this dining room chair, that called for closer examination.

In 1859, this chair was carved for the Speaker’s House, which was opened that same year. The House had been rebuilt after a fire in 1834 destroyed much of the Palace of Westminster in London, England.

A little background

For those who may not know, the Speaker’s House is where the Speaker lives within the Palace of Westminster (also called the Houses of Parliament, because the two Houses of Parliament – the House of Commons, and the House of Lords – meet there) on the River Thames. The Palace of Westminster is named after the Westminster system of government. The terms “Westminster” and “Parliament” are used interchangeably in the UK. The Speaker has administrative, ceremonial, and procedural duties, and is the presiding officer and neutral referee between the government and opposition in the House of Commons. Wikipedia has more here.

Apart from being a residence, the Speaker’s House has always been a place of politics, holding official functions and meetings. You can find a serious historical discussion here.

What the chair saw

The reigning monarch in 1859 was Queen Victoria. The chair saw grand dinners weekly – sometimes on Saturday, sometimes Sunday – but always at 5:30pm. On the menu, would have been items such as turtle soup, roasted partridges, boned stuffed capons with aspic jelly, pigeon patties, hare with truffle sauce, ham and tongue, prawns, jellies, preserved fruits, and mince pies, if this 1881 menu is anything to go by.

Dining Room Chair from the Speaker’s House, Palace of Westminster

The Speaker may be called Chair of Parliament, but I beg to differ.
Though there are twenty of us seated around the table at dinner,
surrounded by life-sized portraits of previous wigged Speakers,
golden mantles, timbered walls, and child-sized candelabras,
looking up to a ceiling of painted panels,
down to a carpet of red-woven symbols,
that of all the gilded oak chairs around Westminster’s table of loyalty
it is only I, the True Chair, who’s been farted upon by royalty.

©elsp 2025

More of my ekphrastic poetry here. The form is an octastich.