Blenheim Palace from the inner courtyard.

When I was in my early 20s, I went through a phase of studying historical correspondences, especially love letters. Perhaps it was the romantic in me that drew me to Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Laclos or epistolary novels like Pamela, but the intimacy of reading words only meant for one person allowed a kind of vicarious delight. One correspondence I enjoyed reading was that between Winston Churchill & his wife Clementine.

The grand front entrance.

Why do I mention Churchill? Well, a famous part of the lore surrounding his entrance into the world links him to Blenheim Palace. The 7th Duke of Marlborough, his paternal grandfather, resided in Blenheim Palace, and Churchill’s American mother, Lady Jennie Jerome (famed for her great legs & for the invention of her favorite cocktail, The Manhattan) allegedly delivered her son in the coat room due to a sudden & swift labor.

The opposite side of the inner courtyard.

Blenheim Palace lived in my imagination well before I ever visited its grounds. The gardens were designed by beloved landscape architect Capability Brown. And Churchill visited frequently; he even proposed to Clementine in the Temple of Diana.

The vista from the inner courtyard, opposite from the grand entrance.

When I visited the imposing estate, I couldn’t help but feel a bit like Elizabeth Bennet when she toured Pemberly. If one had come from modest means, surely the prospect of partnering into such wealth would be beyond imagining. Since women were at the mercy of a good marriage for their means of livelihood, one could see why Austen would write with such wit about the perks & perils of marriage in her novels.

A lovely garden off of one of the Palace’s wings.

There’s a unique history to the manor houses of England, their class ecosystems & eventual decline due to shifting economies. Images of places like Highclere Castle or Gosford Park or Darlington Hall from The Remains of the Day fascinate. Their grandiosity leave one almost stunned.

When I toured Blenheim Palace, I had the friendlier context of Churchill’s boyhood visits, his betrothal, & his painting of its landscapes in older age to help me imagine its past. There’s a poignancy in valuing what such history meant to those affiliated with it, yet at the same time an awareness that such privilege came at a high cost paid by many others.

My best friend, a horticulturalist, delighted with the grounds.

Yet, beauty is beauty. Would we rather live in a world of sameness, or would we prefer to dream that any one of us could, by a stroke of luck or twist of fate, might get that golden ticket to incredible privilege?

There’s a reason many of us dream of castles & palaces, a reason why fairy tales & fantastical lore celebrate these kinds of impressive buildings.

A whimsical bicycle.

For me, I’m happy with my little (but nearly as old) farm in New Hampshire, its rustic shed, the young orchard.

But I can see why Churchill loved Blenheim. He valued memories from childhood such as being with his grandparents or walking the grounds with his wife. Blenheim remains historic, regal, venerable, dignified. And yet surprisingly warm & intimate. Much like Churchill himself, I suppose, if you ever have read his love letters.

The entrance of the drive, towards the road.