ther, who
was perhaps the only architect in the world capable of building such a
house; and the only friend in the world capable of contriving to lay the
debt upon one to whom he was so highly obliged."

There is a curious fact in the depositions of Vanbrugh, by which we
might infer that the idea of Blenheim House might have originated with
the duke himself; he swears that "in 1704, the duke met him, and told
him _he_ designed to build a house, and must consult him about a model,
&c.; but it was the queen who ordered the present house to be built with
all expedition."

The whole conduct of this national edifice was unworthy of the nation,
if in truth the nation ever entered heartily into it. No specific sum
had been voted in parliament for so great an undertaking; which
afterwards was the occasion of involving all the parties concerned in
trouble and litigation; threatened the ruin of the architect; and I
think we shall see, by Vanbrugh's letters, was finished at the sole
charge, and even under the superintendence, of the duchess herself! It
may be a question, whether this magnificent monument of glory did not
rather originate in the spirit of party, in the urgent desire of the
queen to allay the pride and jealousies of the Marlboroughs. From the
circumstance to which Vanbrugh has sworn, that the duke had designed to
have a house built by Vanbrugh, before Blenheim had been resolved on, we
may suppose that this intention of the duke's afforded the queen a
suggestion of a national edifice.

Archdeacon Coxe, in his Life of Marlborough, has obscurely alluded to
the circumstances attending the building of Blenheim. "The illness of
the duke, and the tedious litigation which ensued, caused such delays,
that little progress was made in the work at the time of his decease. In
the interim a serious misunderstanding arose between the duchess and the
architect, which forms the subject of a voluminous correspondence.
Vanbrugh was in consequence removed, and the direction of the building
confided to other hands, under her own immediate superintendence."

This "voluminous correspondence" would probably afford "words that burn"
of the lofty insolence of Atossa, and "thoughts that breathe" of the
comic wit; it might too relate, in many curious points, to the
stupendous fabric itself. If her grace condescended to criticise its
parts with the frank roughness she is known to have done to the
architect himself, his own defence and expla