Chasing Churchill

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One the Sunday of the August bank holiday weekend, I made the trip to Blenheim Palace with some friends, including the super-cute baby Jonah, who's getting more entertaining all the time. First piece of essential information: it's pronounced "BLEN-um," said very quickly. Secondly, it's the estate of the Marlboroughs (pronounced "MAAAH-bruh). And thirdly, it's the birthplace of Sir Winson Churchill.

The reason we decided to go this particular weekend was that the palace was hosting the Oxfordshire Craft Show. I was very excited, since I pictured it being like the 18th Century Craft Fair at Mount Vernon (George Washington's place), which is full of artisans practicing their crafts in the old-fashioned way - art, pottery, spinning (they let me spin some last year), pewter, furniture, etc. I missed the Mount Vernon version this year and figured jolly old England would have a suitable replacement. Not so much. The Oxfordshire Craft Show was a big disappointment. Only a couple people were making chairs or throwing pots, and the rest were selling ugly, tacky stuff - fake flower displays, hair accessories, etc.

However, there were live owls putting on flying shows. And in the tent next door to the owls (who decided that would be a good place for it?!) was a tent of hamsters. I'm not sure how the hamsters fit in to the whole craft fair thing, but it was definitely the most entertaining part. These people are serious about their hamsters. There were big charts of hamster breeds, informative write-ups about hamsters, and ribbons from hamster shows, accompanied by pictures of proud little old ladies and their prize-winning hamsters. There were even ribbons from the 1950s. And of course, live hamsters, many of which could be purchased to take home. I got the impression, though, that you had to be judged worthy. Unless you were going to love and honor your hamster, I don't think they'd let you buy one.

Fortunately, we had the palace to entertain us in place of the disappointing craft fair. It turned out to be a lovely, sunny day, and we took the whole thing at a leisurely pace, which was partially enforced by Jonah wanting to eat and be changed every few hours, and partly because it was nice to just take it easy. First we wandered around the outside and took lots of pictures. The whole thing is shaped like a big squared-off "U", with the main entrance being between the arms. In the far-off distance, you can see the Column of Victory, surrounded by sheep.

So now I need to back up and give you some of the history. The palace was built for John Churchill, the 1st Duke of MAAH-bruh in the early 1700s as a thank you for defeating the French. It is now one of the largest houses in England and is still inhabited by the 11th Duke of Marlborough. There was no 2nd Duke of Marlborough, because the 1st Duke's sons died, so it went to his daughter, the 2nd Duchess of Marlborough. It required an act of Parliament to give the whole thing to a girl (sheesh). After that, it's been Dukes again. The 3rd Duke was the 1st Duke's grandson, son of the 1st Duke's other daughter, who had married a Spencer, thus connecting all this to Princess Diana. At this point, they lost the name Churchill. But later on, they petitioned Parliament to change it to Spencer Churchill, thus bringing back in the family name. The 7th Duke's third son was Lord Randolph Churchill, which is were we eventually get to Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill, Randolph's son. Churchill was born at Blenheim when his mother was there at a party (he was premature and thus not expected to show up so soon). So though Churchill was born there, he never lived there, being too far down in the hierarchy. By the time they got to the 9th Duke, they were running out of money, so he married Consuelo Vanderbilt, an American heiress who brought in lots of money, so they redecorated the place. Apparently, this was a very popular move at the time - the rich uncultured American robber baron families bought themselves connections to English titles by marrying off their daughters with large dowries. Consuelo hated it and actually got a divorce. And now we're on number 11. (Whew!)

And now the tour. The only interior photos I have to show you are the roof of the portico, just before you step in, and the chapel at the end. The roof is covered with creepy eyes (which I just found out are there because the crazy second wife of the 9th Duke had them painted there) that are totally out of character with the rest of the place. The chapel houses the graves of the 1st Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. For everything else, I was forbidden to take pictures. I'm having trouble finding any on the internet, as well, because no one else was allowed to, either. However, there are a couple interior shots at the Blenheim Palace website. I was also made to carry my backpack on my front. They were very touchy about you accidentally knocking something over or scratching it or breathing on it.

The first part of the tour was dedicated to Sir Winston. Letters and other bits of memorabilia (including a one-piece velvet "Siren Suit" that he loved for being so easy and fast to put on) were on disply, but none of it compared to the Churchill Museum in London (see previous entry). Eventually, you walk through the room where he was born unexpectedly. Apparently, when he was later asked if his mother had been dancing or out shooting just before he was born, he characteristically replied, "Although present on that occasion, I have no clear recollection of the events leading up to it." Churchill was very close to his cousin, the 9th Duke, and was actually next in line for the Dukedom for about 5 years - but, as we know, he went on to bigger and better things. However, the Temple of Diana on the grounds was where Winston proposed to his wife Clementine.

Next we took a tour of the palace rooms. It was so much more interesting with a guide, because she pointed out people in the paintings, told us their stories, and made the whole place feel like it had been lived in, rather than a museum of untouchable furniture. She also told us lots about the tapestries, many of which were commissioned to commemorate the 1st Duke's battle victories. My favorite has a mistake in it - it's a scene with lots of horses and very tiny, tiny, detailed stitches. Apparently one weaver didn't see the forest for the trees and gave a hound horses' hooves.

My favorite room in the palace was the long library, which you can sort of see here. It was the only room that I felt like I could live in (mainly because it was filled with thousands of books and had a couple squashy armchairs), though still really, really fancy. And then the tour ended with the chapel.

Next we took a small wander around the grounds through a fountain garden and had a snack. While Jonah ate, his father and I went over to see the Temple of Diana and checked out the rose garden. I also chased a couple pheasants that seemed to be everywhere - I just wanted to take their picture. Oh, well. Then we all trooped back inside for an upstairs tour called "Blenheim Palace: The Untold Story." It goes through 300 years of palace history, and parts almost made me feel like I was at Disney World. It was interesting though. One of the tricks was to have a mannequin of a person in Blenheim history that you would see from behind. It made minor movements - breathing and shrugging shoulders. It would be facing what was supposed to be a mirror, and that would be a video screen that would show an actor dressed the same way, talking and making the same small movements. We learned about the building of the palace, the Duke that put on stage productions, the Duke that dabbled in chemistry and blew things up, and the Dukes that lost all the money. We even met Consuelo.

After that, another snack and wander around the grounds. This time we headed for the Secret Garden, which was just absolutely lovely, with little waterfalls and benches tucked here and there and everywhere. It was such a nice day. We left as the place was closing at 6 pm and tried to spy on a wedding reception that was taking place in the Italian garden.

We drove to the nearby small town of Bladon and ordered food at the White House pub, which was decorated with pictures of Sir Winston. The beams overhead were painted with some of his more witty sayings. Then we went over to the St. Martin's Church graveyard, where Churchill is buried in his family plot, along with his mother, father, brother, wife, and even Consuelo. It is so very simple. I said in a previous entry that the only three people to have state funerals in St. Paul's Cathedral in London are Churchill, Lord Nelson, and the Duke of Wellington. The latter two are buried in ginormous tombs in the crypt at St. Paul's. Churchill's is such a contrast, and I like it so much better - peacefully tucked away with his family. We returned to the pub and had our meals, then drove home.

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Photos

Blenheim Double-Headed Eagle Gates
Was Churchill part of the Romanov dynasty?

Victory Column
Waaay in the distance. And there are sheep grazing on that hill.

Seriously. Too many statues.
Apparently, this one was picked by that crazy second wife of the 9th Duke, too.

One of the many pheasants I tried to run down on foot.
I failed.

Diana Temple
Site where Winston Churchill proposed to Clementine