 Stories from Parliament. The Fire of 1834. I keep coming back to this dreadful spot. It's so horrible to see it like this. But you want to hear about the fire, don't you? Not listen to me rabbiting on? So, first things first. I'm Mrs. Wright, Deputy Housekeeper at the Palace of Westminster. That is, sorry, was the home of Parliament. Right here next to the River Thames in London. Way back in history, kings and queens lived here. Henry VIII was the last of them, and he thought the place was getting a bit run down. So he gave the building to Parliament. And why shouldn't the people have a palace to make their laws in? So, come the awful day, October 16th 1834, and two workmen arrived to speak to the Clark of Works. Come on, Matthew, look sharp! I knew what they were about. The Clark of Works had hired them to burn a pile of old tally sticks. They were an old way of remembering if someone owed money with a mark made on a stick. Parliament didn't use the system any more, and there was a huge pile of these old sticks cluttering up the basement. So they all had to be burned, as the Clark of Works explained. So, is that clear? Two of you, two furnaces, get this pile of old wood out of the way once and for all. Burn a lot? Exactly, burn the whole wretched lot! And so they did. They worked all morning and into the afternoon. And when I took some visitors into the House of Lords... My word! Yes, I am dreadfully sorry. Well, perhaps we'd better move on. I was rather worried and told the Clark of Works about the smoke. Fire makes smoke, Mrs Wright. But don't fret, it will soon be over. I retired to my room with no idea what was going on beneath the House of Lords. You see, the fire had become so hot that it had set the floor alight. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew... Oh! Fire! The doorkeeper's wife raised the alarm and now the Clark of Works had changed his tune. Out! Out! Everybody out of the building! Oh, my Lord! I hurried out along with everyone else and stood a safe distance away. Boats began to stop along the river as a great crowd gathered to watch on land and on the water. By seven that evening, the whole of the House of Lords was ablaze. You men! Fetch water! Form a chain! Fetch water! Mr Braidwood, chief of the London Fire Engine establishment, arrived on the scene. Man the pumps! Get that engine closer! Closer, I say! But it was no use. Look out! At 7.30, the roof caved in. Back! Get back now! Then, at eight o'clock, the House of Commons caught fire and suddenly it seemed like the whole of Parliament was burning. Oh, no! For a moment, all the frantic activity stopped as everyone looked up in horror. We couldn't believe what we were seeing. Then James Braidwood rallied his men. I want every able-bodied man here now! You get to the engine! You free! Over to the pump! I want six Mr Braidwood! Everyone worked as if there was no tomorrow. And for the old Palace of Westminster, there was no tomorrow. Just one part of the ancient Palace remained, the great, magnificent Westminster Hall. It was nearly 800 years old and it had the most splendid, huge wooden beamed roof. Surely it would survive. But then, at 10 o'clock... We can't stop it, sir! Westminster Hall has caught fire! Don't give up, man! Point your hoses at the roof. And you care what it takes? Deluge that roof with water. Save Westminster Hall and all castles. That was Lord Melbourne, the Prime Minister himself. You heard the Prime Minister! Bring ladders, water! Steer that engine round quickly! This is the fight of your life there! Save Westminster Hall! Do you hear me? Do not let the whole of Parliament be destroyed! Then, maybe the Lord heard our prayers because the wind shifted just a little. And maybe the thick old walls of the hall played their part. And there were ladders and scaffolding already in the hall from some repair work. Whatever the reason, the fire was finally beaten. God be praised! When the sun came up the next day, it looked down on a charred landscape. And there, right in front of me, half buried and half burnt, was a single tally stick. Sticking out of the ground like it was mocking me for not complaining more the day before. But Westminster Hall was saved. That magnificent medieval masterpiece with its stunning wooden roof survived. And now, there is to be a competition amongst architects to design a new Palace of Westminster. There is talk of an enormous clock tower so that people will be able to see their Parliament for miles around. I wonder if I will live to hear that giant clock chime.