Thursday, June 25, 2009
Woodstock, Oxfordshire
Ah, the supreme joys of awaking in Oxford! It was not a minute before 7. 45 when I awoke with a start and realized that breakfast was at 8am. There was not a moment to be lost! I jumped out of bed, gathered my toiletries and clothes together and padded downstairs to my basement bathroom. At exactly 8 am, I heard voices coming from the Dining Room and on getting there at 8. 05, I found that three of my fellow lodgers, academics all, were already at breakfast!
We spent the next few minutes getting introduced: a New Zealander named Marni, a Japanese named Atsushi and an American named Andrea from Seton Hall in New Jersey! The first two are long-term guests and will be staying for several weeks more, the last is only here for a night. She is on a year-long Sabbatical at Somerville College and hopes to move into her own flat soon. Breakfast was Continental (no full English–bummer!!!–I was looking forward to some scrambled eggs, sausages and bacon!) but over muesli with milk, toast and hot rolls with marmalade and a selection of jams, we ate well. However, I did not linger too long as I had a
9. 35 am bus to catch on the Woodstock Road and I did not want to miss it.
So I grabbed my things and left at 9. 15, and was at the bus stop at 9. 20. I thought so much of my friend Annalisa and her boys as I passed right by the school that her little one Giacomo used to attend when she had spent the summer in Oxford, two years ago. I had visited her then and we had walked to the school together to pick him up. The bus was late and I began to despair and while I waited, I called my parents in Bombay and told them I was in Oxford and we caught up. Then, my bus came along and I was off (five pounds return ticket to Blenheim Palace–Stagecoach Bus Number S3). The journey took exactly half an hour and I do so wish I could find out which public bus would just take me winding through this beautiful network of Cotswold villages as it had done in Cornwall. From the bus stop to the Palace gates, it was a ten minute walk but it turned out to be another spectacular morning and I could not start complaining so early in the day!
The ticket granting admission to the park, gardens and house is a pricey 17. 50 pounds but I was fortunate enough to be able to avail of a pass that is valid for a whole year at the same price! Well, I might not return to Blenheim (pronounced ‘Blen-um’) ever again (though I have now learned never to say never–I remember, as a graduate student 22 years ago, I had thought that I would never return to Oxford and I came back so many times over the years!) but I figured the card would make a good souvenir–so I had my mug shot taken and was presented with a lovely gold printed laminated card!
Thus began my forays into one of the world’s most magnificent homes, the handiwork of the famous John Vanbrugh, who, unbelievably never had any architectural training whatsoever–he was a dramatist by profession. Yes, he is the same one who created Castle Howard, another architectural masterpiece in Yorkshire which Llew and I had visited last August. Upon arriving at the main entrance (I was, by the way, the first visitor to enter the palace today!), we were informed that a bonus free tour of the garden would soon be conducted by Karen Wiseman, garden historian, and we could take that if we chose. Our tour of the house could begin after that.
Tour of the Gardens:
Well…naturally, this was too good a chance to pass up and sign up I did. A few minutes later, Karen did arrive and led us past the gravel terraces to the vast spread of green parkland (the handiwork, of course, of the renowned Capability Brown). She told us a little bit about the history of the house at this point and then about the gardens. She did encourage questions and several visitors did ask very sensible ones. They were obviously all enthusiastic gardeners themselves and I thoroughly enjoyed the tour. She also pointed out the flag that was flying to indicate that John, the current 11th Duke of Marlborough was in residence today.
In a nutshell, Blenheim has been around for so long (since 1705) and has been in the hands of so many well-known gardeners starting with Robert Wise (none of whose work exists today). Each left his particular mark upon the property and the end result is, like Cliveden, a series of separate gardens each with a distinctive style and aura. We started at the Italian garden with its neat yew hedging, classical statuary and water fountains, then went on to the Rose Garden (quite lovely at this time of year with every flower in bloom and loads of buds on each bush).
Our next stop was the Duke’s private Italian garden which was also quite lovely though very formal. Visitors are not allowed into it though we could glimpse it from the edge. The last stop was at the Secret Garden, quite the most beautiful of them all with a Japanese style bridge fording a small lyrical stream and a variety of flowers such as deep blue irises and maroon day lilies bringing patches of color to the space that alternated between shady spots and brightly lit ones.
By this point, we had already trekked through the property for an hour and my feet were beginning to ache. My sneakers are not very comfortable and I have started to develop corns, so I should get myself some medication right away as I know I shall be doing a lot of walking during the next few days. When we got back to the house, I was told that we should start our tour on the ground floor with the special exhibit on Winston Churchill who was born at Blenheim Palace as his father Randolph was the brother of the then Duke of Marlborough.
The Winston Churchill Exhibition:
Having visited the Churchill Museum and the Cabinet War Rooms at Whitehall in London, I have to say that I did not expect too much on this tour; but let me tell you that this was one of the best exhibitions I have ever seen. It is quite brilliantly curated and takes us right into the very room in which Churchill was born. There is a letter framed on the wall from his father Randolf to the doctor who attended the birth, thanking him for his pains and paying him the fee of 12 guineas (I have no idea how much that would translate into modern currency).
The exhibition then wound us through the early years of this man who turned out to be one of the finest statesmen England has ever known and about his poignant connection with Blenheim. He wrote somewhere: “Two of the happiest things in my life happened here–I was born here and I asked my wife Clementine to marry me here”. As it turned out, Karen had taken us to the Temple of Diana, a classical folly in the garden, and to the marble bench on which Winston had proposed. It was a supremely happy marriage and one based on a good solid romance.
We saw so many of his early letters to his “dear Pappa” and “darling Mamma”, written when just a lad of eight and then whilst a student at Harrow and then from the front where he served himself with the Hussars together with his cousin, then Lord Blanford (who became the 10th Duke of Marlborough). All the time, we could hear recordings in the background of some of his most stirring war-time speeches and, believe, me, the quality of the oration and the passion and the conviction with which they were delivered brought tears to my eyes that ran down my cheeks, much to my embarrassment! It was just too moving for words! Possibly because I expected so little, I was overwhelmed and my response was just as impassioned! How marvelous it was to walk through the most significant milestones of “Winnie’s” life and to realize the forces that shaped him into the steely man he became– a hedonist with a healthy love for the best things in life as well as a clear head and a determination to overcome.
But I suppose for me the most amazing thing of all (as this year for me has been, among many things, a matter of art education of the highest quality) was that Churchill was an accomplished painter (who knew??!!) and that so many of his oil paintings that I saw were based on his years at Blenheim to which he was a regular visitor. Indeed, he said, “When I die, I will spend the first one thousand year in heaven painting so that I might get a sense of exactly how it is done”. Such colossal talent in this most Renaissance of men and such modesty too!!! His paintings are truly good and were actually exhibited at the Royal Academy to which he submitted entries under a pseudonym so that no one could accuse him of being favored! If for no other reason than to achieve insights into the life and times and paintings of Winston Churchill, one ought to visit Blenheim!
Guided Tour and History of Blenheim:
At the end of the Churchill exhibition, we were joined by a guide who gave us a brief history of the Palace. Blenheim Palace came into existence after the Battle of Blenheim which ended on August 13, 1704, when the French commander Tallard surrendered to the English John Churchill bringing glorious victory to the British troops. John Churchill scribbled the news of the victory on a French tavern bill he had in his pocket and dispatched it to his wife, Sarah, requesting her to inform the Queen (Anne) of his triumph. The Queen was so delighted, she gave him 1000 gold guineas as a reward and about 12,000 acres of land in Woodstock. She also gave him the title Duke of Marlborough and John Churchill became the first one!
A year later, in 1704, John and Sarah chose John Vanbrugh to build them a magnificent house. Vanbrugh used Nicholas Hawksmoor as his assistant and with the contribution of the inimitable Grindling Gibbons who was in-charge of the stone carvings, work began on the Palace. Hence, it is incorrect (as the guides kept saying) that John Churchill was given the Palace as a gift for his victory at Blenheim by Queen Anne. In actual fact, he was given the land and the money–he built the Palace with it…the Palace did not exist prior to the Battle of Blenheim–so it is a typically 18th century piece of work with its emphasis on symmetry and balance and a nod to the achievements of Classical Antiquity–the true hallmarks of the English Baroque style. It was finished in 1713 but poor John Churchill only lived for a few years to enjoy it. He was dead by 1718 when the Dukedom and the Palace passed into the hands of his oldest daughter Henrietta as he had no male heirs. Clearly, there was an exception made in England’s then normal rules of inheritance that allowed a female heir to inherit both the title and the property. A series of Dukes followed, some more profligate than others, each bringing his own stamp to the residence and gardens and making Blenheim what it is today.
The American connection comes in with the 9th Duke who finding himself bankrupt and wanting to keep the house within the family rather than letting it fall into the hands of the National Trust or English Heritage, decided to marry for money rather than for love. He consented to an arranged marriage with Consuelo Vanderbilt who was only one of the richest women in the world. Her social-climbing mother, not content with being a Vanderbilt, wanted a title for her daughter and was thrilled when she became a Duchess. Consuelo and the Duke were bitterly unhappy though she bore him three children and brought gazillion millions as her dowry into the marriage. This saved the Churchill estate but it did not bring any personal happiness to either of the spouses who could not stand each other. They were subsequently divorced and Consuelo remarried a Frenchman. The current Duke of Marlborough is in his 80s, recently remarried for the fourth time (his wife is at least half his age) and has four children: two by his first wife, two by his third wife (and he has two step-children). Of these, the one with whom I am most familiar is Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill who owns an interior decorating company, has written several books on interior design (all of which I own) and has a Woodstock-based shop called Woodstock Designs. It was easy for me to see where her love for interior design and decoration was nurtured, as I toured the home in which she grew up and where she is a still a frequent resident.
All this history was made known to us through a tour of the State Rooms of the House which we took in the company of another very good and very humorous guide. Needless to say, he paused to explain the history of the people depicted in a number of paintings and of the grand accoutrements of the rooms. In particular, he pointed out the Boule furniture in the last room which is the best example of French Baroque. The tour ended with what must be one of the most spectacular rooms I have seen thus far in my travels–the Long Library, whose plasterwork ceiling and walls are entirely the work of Nicholas Hawksmoor. It is simply exquisite, combining pastel peach shades with white ivory ornamentation. A really massive marble sculpture of Queen Anne, great patroness and close friend of Sarah Churchill, graces one end of the room while a massive organ is present at the other end. There is really no part of this staggeringly beautiful home that I would want to miss.
Then, drooping with fatigue, I sat on the grand steps outside the Palace and ate my picnic lunch: Roast Chicken baguette from Sainsbury and a bottle of Diet Coke. This allowed me to admire Vanbrugh’s design and the special honey color of the walls all made of Cotswold stone quarried nearby! The second session began upstairs where I undertook a self-guided audio-visual tour that was very interestingly done. It takes another 40 minutes but was so worth it as it took us once more through the history of Blenheim and its colorful occupants through the centuries. This bit ended in the Shop where I spied the most darling porcelain spoons in exactly the same design as the Herend porcelain tea and coffee service that Llew and I had purchased from Budapest, Hungary, a few years ago. I had to have them and, a few minutes later, the attendant was packing 8 little spoons for me in bubble wrap and Blenheim Palace tissue paper!
Wandering in Woodstock:
Then I was hurrying out of the Palace and cutting across Capability Brown’s landscaped lakeside to arrive at the village of Woodstock which is so picture perfect I simply could not stop clicking. I entered a number of shops and found two perfect little cut crystal whisky glasses in a thrift shop for just two pounds each and which I could see as votive candle holders on my dining table! I did browse through Lady Henrietta’s shop, Woodstock Designs, but I have to say that I was so dead by then that I simply had to get back on the bus and return to Oxford. Woodstock is so pretty and being located on the very edge of the Cotswolds, it is the ideal spot to visit in case travelers have no time to see the rest of the more renowned villages. It has superb antiques shops, interior decorating places, tea rooms and all sorts of other enticing enclaves in which to browse as well as a collection of extraordinarily pretty stone churches, buildings and cottages.
Christ Church Meadows at Last and the Oxford Union:
I alighted at Oxford City Center and made my way to the Broad Walk at Christ Church Meadows to complete the walk to the River Thames’ banks that I wasn’t able to do yesterday. It was very warm today though and I settled on the grass to watch crew members row in unison down the river as more relaxed kayakers breezed alongside. The cows were in the meadows and in the distance, I could see some of Matthew Arnold’s “dreaming spires”. All was well with this bucolic little world and I felt deeply content.
On my way back home to Norham Road, I made it a point to stop at the famous Oxford Union, the place that is renowned for its weekly debates (Benazir Bhutto was the first female President of the Oxford Union). Since this is Week Nine, only a few students are still on campus; (most of them are finishing finals this week and leaving) but a few stragglers were sipping beers at the bar and in the garden. I poked my head into the various rooms and discovered that as a member of St. Antony’s College, I could become a life member of the Oxford Union for 180 pounds (a bargain if you ask me!). Then, since I was fairly collapsing with fatigue, I walked straight home, took a shower, made myself a cup of tea, ate the other half of my sandwich, wrote this blog and went to bed.