Exploring Blenheim and Stratfield Saye: From the same start, radically different results

Blenheim Palace and Stratfield Saye are unique amongst all the stately homes of England, thanks to their peculiar origins. Both were gifts from a grateful government to generals-made-dukes who had won epoch-defining battles against the French. Both were intended to trumpet the glory of national supremacy in their art and architecture. Both are "paid" for with annual rent flags, given to the reigning monarch by the current dukes and hanging in places of honour at Windsor Castle. And both have become such potent monuments to their founding figures that they have a shrine-like quality.

Yet it's hard to imagine two houses more different from each other. Blenheim: vast and imposing, backdrop to scores of films and entertainment venue for more than 700,000 visitors a year. Stratfield Saye: homely and comfortable, only open a few weeks a year and little known beyond locals and people with a specialist interest.

Though familiar with ... and a past multiple visitor to ... both, I recently had the rare treat of touring them both within a week. The experience cries out for a compare and contrast exercise.

Blenheim is a baroque tour de force. Its no surprise that its architect, Vanbrugh, started out in stage set design. The massive scale, Versailles-like projecting wings and military encrustations on the rooftops all trumpet "an important person lives here!" That continues inside, where towering marble halls dwarf the individual. All the Louis XIV furniture makes the place look more like a museum than a house, while the painted walls of the dining room ... where the great and good stare down upon you from lofty balconies ... continue the theme of putting you in your place. I confess it's my least favourite of the major English country house interiors because it's so lacking in warmth and humanity.

You would need a towering ego to be comfortable living here; something clearly possessed by Sarah, the first Duchess. Records show that she was obviously the driving force behind the construction, pushing on for decades after her husband's death to make sure nobody forgot that he'd saved England, Western civilisation and the world.

The architecture and interiors at Stratfield Saye are equally marked by their founder, but the result is entirely different. This is a moderately-sized Regency house, as aristocratic seats go, with cozy interiors and scores of homey touches. It's easy to imagine moving right in. The original intent had been to build another palace on a Blenheim-like scale. (You can see drawings in the hall on the way to the dining room; they're actually rather hideous.) But Arthur Wellesley wasn't that fussed about making a big statement, and his retiring, estranged wife was never going to follow in Sarah Churchill's footsteps. The duke was instead far more concerned about comfort and convenience. He personally designed a central heating system, putting Stratfield Saye ahead of many other stately homes by more than a century. He designed en-suite toilets into his guest rooms, cleverly concealed in beautifully-crafted corner wardrobes. The customised lamps throughout ran brighter and cleaner than contemporary alternatives, fuelled by rapeseed oil grown on the estate. In his library, you can see the reading chair he designed to allow a variety of comfortable positions, with moveable arms to hold book, candle and drink. The practicality continues today: the family uses the first Duke's dispatch boxes as coffee tables. The pile of remote controls and current magazines on one leaves you in no doubt this is still very much a family home.

You find out all of these details because you're taken on a guided tour by family retainers. On a wet Easter Saturday, the three in my group were the only visitors at the time and thus enjoyed an entirely personalised wander and got to ask loads of questions. This kind of intimacy, I suspect, is because the Wellesleys don't need the tourist money the way the Spencer-Churchills do. The first duke of Wellington's practicality created a manageable, well-run estate that's now able to fund itself in a way Blenheim simply can't. Thus the conversion of the Oxfordshire palace into a tourist attraction of Disney-esque proportions. Someone has to pay to heat that mausoleum and maintain all that art.

That's not to say that Stratfield Saye doesn't house equally impressive treasures. The first duke might have been humble and practical, but he enjoyed a bit of triumphalism. The long gallery here has the best collection of French Boulle furniture in England outside of the Wallace Collection. China, fine art, furniture and sculpture all attract the eyes, though the best stuff is up at Apsley House (more on that here) and the most interesting stories come with the family portraits. At Blenheim, you'll see similar stuff on a much grander scale, but it's the famous tapestries that are unique.

It's obvious by now that as a house, and for its founding personality, I favour Stratfield Saye. But I'll give Blenheim a clear victory on the grounds. The Wellesleys' place sits in pretty but unexceptional Hampshire farmland, not much "improved" except for some trickery on the river Loddon to create the illusion of a lake, and some pleasant gardens. At Blenheim, the push for grandeur that made their house a cold mausoleum made their grounds one of the greatest landscapes in England. This is thanks to the genius of Capability Brown, the greatest gardener of the 18th century and perhaps of all time.

Brown swept away the formality of French and Dutch gardens to create visions of pastoral paradise. Hills undulate, water caresses, herds or sheep and deer add movement, carefully-chosen trees combine to clothe the landscape in different shapes and colours. Grand architectural statements punctuate the horizon at the end of long vistas. Ironically, it's all just as artificial as the parterres, espaliers and clipped box it replaced ... but it doesn't look it. Wandering through the park at Blenheim on a mild, sunny day is a soul-soothing preview of what heaven must surely look like.

Half an hour outside Oxford, Blenheim is open most of the year, and offers a full day out with a variety of attractions. There's a variety of admission prices; many people skip the house and pay the lesser fee to enjoy the grounds. It's also the venue for a regular stream of events. Stratfield Saye is tucked in between Basingstoke and Reading, open at Easter and for about a month every summer; check their web site for details. There's not much to do beyond the house tour, so you'll only need a couple of hours. The estate farm shop nearby, however, is well worth a visit and is open year round.

Quiet North Hampshire is a sight-seeing treasure trove

The Vyne, Silchester Roman Ruins, Stratfield Saye, Chawton Cottage, Winchester Cathedral and the Bombay Sapphire Distillery

As a consideration while house hunting, density of nearby sight-seeing spots is probably not high on the lists of most English people.  It's a different story for the American expat.

Twelfth Night at The Vyne

For Americans who can find the time and money to push beyond the local choices of Canada, Mexico, or the Caribbean, Great Britain is the No. 1 choice for foreign travel.  If they're visiting, the effort of trans-Atlantic flying means they'll be staying a while.  (Rocketing good guest accommodation up that house-hunting list as well.)  As their host, you'll probably want to spend time showing them around, so you want a range of sights that won't bore you, and aren't a hassle to reach.  If you can't take time off work, you want locations close enough for public transport, taxis, or easy drop off and pick up.  If you live in London, of course, this is no problem.  Once you move out of the capital, things can get challenging.

Not, however, in North Hampshire.  My Aunt Marian has just finished a long weekend here, reminding me of just how culturally rich our little part of this green and pleasant land is.  We spent three of her four days within 22 miles of home, packing in a delightful range of activities.  Don't let the charmless modernity of Basingstoke fool you into dismissing the whole area; there's gold in those surrounding fields.  Here's an overview.

The Vyne
The more I go to our local National Trust property, the more I love it.  (With the exception, earlier this summer, of a run-in with a particularly nasty volunteer who was channelling every sour, old, fun-hating librarian stereotype known to man.  I'll grant she might have been having a bad day, and forget it.)  The house is a gem.  Grand enough to impress, small enough to digest.  Distinct layers of history telling a story about how such places come together by slow amalgamation.  (Tudor, Carolingian, Georgian, Victorian)  And there's a good handful of blockbusters for history and architecture geeks: A

contemporary portrait of Catherine of Aragon in the chapel stained glass; a neo-classical staircase to make Wedgwood fans pant with desire;  one of the best Regency print rooms still in existence ... it's the supposed inspiration for the Duke of Wellington's rooms at Stratfield Saye;  Fascinating links to Horace Walpole and Jane Austen.  If you can play the piano, which is what my aunt actually does for a living, you can sit down and have a go at their Victorian ivories.

Outside, the gardens are pretty though unexceptional.  The real stars are the riverside and woodland walks.  In front of the house, lawns are thoughtfully dotted with deck chairs for your use, sloping down to a "lake" (created by holding up the flow of the river) graced by ducks, geese and swans.  Walk along its banks, swaying reeds towering above you, and you'll come to a remarkable marsh given over to wildfowl.  There's a wooden hide where you can sit and watch.  Or continue on for miles of meandering through the forest, silent but for the occasional hoot of a child's glee.

Every summer The Vyne hosts The Lord Chamberlain's Men, a traditional Shakespearean troop that performs, in a style the Bard would have recognised, on the lawns.  We were impressed by their Macbeth a few years ago (review here), and were equally delighted ... though considerably more cheered ... by this year's Twelfth Night.

Silchester
The Vyne has a fine collection of Roman artefacts unearthed locally, and one legend concerning its unusual name has the Roman Emperor Probus ordering the first vineyard in England on this spot.  Nobody can prove the wine lore, but there's no doubt about Romans being here.  Just six miles beyond the National Trust house, you'll find the remains of Calleva Atrebatum in the sleepy village of Silchester.  At the height of the Roman empire this was a bustling, walled town of more than 20 square blocks, complete with its own forum, government buildings, baths and a small amphitheatre outside the walls.  It was a major crossroads (much as Basingstoke is today), from where the road from London split into branches heading for Bath, Gloucester and Old Sarum.

While universities tend to excavate here every summer, and have unearthed some lovely stuff, you need to moderate your expectations.  No ruined buildings, mosaics or stacks of columns here.  Silchester's claim to fame is the only unaltered ring of Roman urban walls in England.  (You can see some fine circumferential walls in York and Chester, but they're mostly Medieval built on Roman foundations.)  Calves was completely abandoned by the 7th century, usurped by the Saxon settlements of Basing and Reading, and has spent more than a thousand years since as farmland.  At points, it takes some imaginative thinking to see that the tree covered ridge with the gentle slope down to a shade-dappled stream is, indeed, the remains of the old wall and the defensive ditch in front of it.  That's actually part of Silchester's magic.  You'll feel like you're an explorer stumbling on a lost city for the first time.  Other than the occasional local walking his dog, you'll probably be alone.  The most impressive bit is the West Gate, where a good-sized chunk of the wall looms out of the fields on either side, and the gap in its run makes clear where a stately gatehouse would have been.  The pastoral views from here are soul-soothing.  The silence is broken only by birds and wind-rustled leaves, putting you in just the right mood for a slightly melancholy contemplation of how easily the mighty can fall.

Stratfield Saye
Another local estate to benefit from Roman goodies unearthed in these fields is Stratfield Saye, though it's far more famous as the family home of the Dukes of Wellington.  Aunt Marian and I were both captivated by a quadruple-biography called Sisters of Fortune, which explored the fascinating lives of the four grand-daughters of the last surviving signer of the American Declaration of Independence.  Three moved to England and the eldest, Marianne, is reputed to have been the love of the first Duke of Wellington's life ... though she married his brother.  And, in her previous marriage, she was briefly sister-in-law to Jerome Bonaparte, brother of Wellington's arch rival.  A great case of truth being better than fiction.  Marianne is the only person not of the family "blood" whose portrait

hangs in the dining room here, and a miniature of that dining room portrait was found inside the Duke's pocket watch when he died.  Aunt Marian, who, like her historic name-sake, is also from Baltimore, had to make a pilgrimage to see where part of the story took place.

Most people will be more familiar with Wellington's public exploits: building the foundations of the empire in India, the Peninsular Wars, Waterloo, Prime Minister, mentor to Queen Victoria and godfather to her youngest son.  The estate here was supposed to hold a palace equivalent to the one John Churchill received from the crown to commemorate Blenheim, but things never worked out.  The Duke, always a man of simple tastes, made some basic alterations to the existing house.  His descendants followed suit.  Thus these days you have a fairly modest estate, crammed with treasures from the Great Duke's life that are often amusingly wedged into spaces too small to do them justice.  It's still very much a family home, only opened for a few weeks a year.  The tour guides know their stuff and all have more than a bit of hero worship for the man who established the line.

While in the area, check out The Iron Duke, an excellent gastropub in the estate village.

Chawton Cottage

At a big 17 miles from home, this is starting to push the sightseeing envelope ... but the drive alone is a thing of joy if you appreciate the beauty of rolling farmland and twisting lanes overhung by ancient trees.  At the end of the drive you'll find the charming village of Chawton, where a modest house (roughly the equivalent of a modern 4-bedroom suburban home today) saw Jane Austen write her greatest works.  Today, it's a museum to her life, family and novels.

Your enjoyment of Chawton will be in direct proportion to how much you know and love Austen's work.  Real fanatics can spend hours here, delving into possible influences for different characters and plotlines across her classics.  The casual reader may be more interested in how four genteel but cash-strapped women managed to co-exist in this relatively small space, or spend time wandering in the lovely gardens ... at their peak this time of year.  People who haven't read Austen should probably give this a pass; I know better than to ever drag my husband here!

Winchester Cathedral
Our most distant point, at a whopping 22 miles, is our county town of Winchester.  It never seems to be near the top of the English cathedral lists, perhaps because Medieval engineering and subsidence conspired to leave it without a cathedral's trademark spire.  It's a special place, however, and deserves more renown.  Like all English cathedrals, you'll need to pay to get in; the Church of England doesn't have the revenues to let tourists crawl all over its best assets for free.  Your admission (besides helping to maintain this glorious place) gets you a guided tour, and the volunteers are excellent.

I believe the greatest glory of Winchester is its chantry chapels, some of the best and most abundant in the land.  The rarest treasure, however, might be its Anglo-Saxon baptismal font, probably the best of its type to be seen.  Don't miss the Winchester Bible, the chapel with pre-Raphaelite windows by Bourne-Jones, and the caskets containing the bones of the Anglo-Saxon kings.  In their time, after all, this was the capital of the kingdom rather than London.

Beyond the cathedral close you'll find a provincial market town well worth exploring, with plenty of Georgian architecture enlivened by Medieval and Victorian neighbours.  Other than a ruthlessly ugly, but welcome, multi-story car park, there's not much evidence of the modern world.  Winchester also manages to have a decent proportion of independent restaurants and shops, making it a great place for a wander.

Bombay Sapphire Distillery Tour
Roughly half way between us and Winchester, The Bombay Sapphire Distillery straddles the crystal clear river Test in a wooded valley right out of a fairy tale.  We were early adopters last year, not too long after the company consolidated its distilling here at Laverstoke Mill and made their play for the tourist market.  (Initial report here)  All the essentials remain the same, but the eight months of development have helped them knock the rough edges off.  The plants in the greenhouses ... magnificent structures rising from the river and showing off the botanicals that go into the gin in their growing state ... have matured a bit so the display no longer looks so raw.  The tour guides have polished their patter; delivery was smoother, more amusing and had a few more jokes.  While this is a good option for a mid-winter visit (something not true of many other places in this entry), it's at its

best in the summer.  Pink lythrum and tall reeds swayed along the river bank, trout hung suspended in the water waiting on fat flies and visitors enjoyed the cocktail included with their tour on a broad sun-trap of a patio.  (Despite the clouds in my photo, we got intermittent sunshine while there.)  They've managed to capture the essence of English summer.  Which, depending on your perspective, is either ironic or perfectly logical coming from a brand developed specifically for the American market, relying on British style to generate sales.

I didn't buy any Bombay.  I confess, we're a Tanqueray house, though we've been sampling a lot of boutique, small batch distillery offerings lately.  And this is probably the least repeatable of the activities on my list simply based on price.  At £15 per person, it's the most expensive of the local attractions.  (The Roman walls at Silchester are the cheapest, being free.)  But this visit was worth it not just to give Aunt Marian a special experience ... Bombay is her brand ... but to discover a stunning cocktail called the Laverstoke.  I'll wrap this entry with the recipe.

The LaverstokeGlass – Balloon or large wine
Ingredients – 50 ml Bombay Sapphire
15 ml Martini Extra Dry (autumn season), Rosso (winter), Bianco (spring), Rosato (summer)
15 ml Bottlegreen elderflower cordial
100 ml Fever Tree ginger ale
Method – Pour the Bombay Sapphire, vermouth and elderflower cordial into a balloon glass. Stir with a bar spoon, then squeeze and drop a fresh lime wedge in. Add cubed ice and stir. Pour ginger ale in and gently stir. Garnish with second squeezed lime, two slithers of fresh ginger slices and a sprig of mint, grouped together on one side of the glass.