We visited Arundells, Ted Heath’s home in the cathedral close in Salisbury, because we overheard somebody talking about it at dinner the night before. Neither of us knew that the house was open, but if you get the chance visit: there is much to intrigue.
Heath was prime minister from 1970 to 1974 when I was at my most left wing. He was a natural enemy, but I remember him best years later as a bitter, ungracious ex-prime minister, although I should perhaps have appreciated him being disgusted by Margaret Thatcher. The house changed my view. I learnt that he had been bold enough to travel to Germany and Poland days before the Second World War broke out and had attended the Nuremberg Trials. He was so friendly with Harold and Mary Wilson despite Harold being his main protagonist that the Wilsons came regularly to dinner and Mary came and stayed for two weeks to hide from the press after Harold died.
The façade of Arundells is striking, and the house was described by our guide as “a country house in the city.” This is mainly because of its huge garden running down to the river with a large park on the other side of the river but also because it faces the cathedral green. The house is built on medieval foundations but is a classic Queen Anne house. It fell into terrible disrepair and came close to being demolished before a couple called Hawkins restored it. Heath bought the house from them after he stepped down as leader of the Tories. Through a legal loophole he managed to buy the freehold of the house, much to the annoyance of the cathedral authorities. That rift between church and state persists to this day.
The house is largely as Heath left it when he died in 2005, and unlike most stately homes where you cannot imagine anybody living Arundells feels like a house where somebody lived until very recently. That feeling will, I suspect, fade quickly. The only room that is not as Health left it is the room in which he died, the corner room at the top left as you look at the house. The room became like a hospital, but, we agreed, a good place to die with windows on two sides and a view of the exquisite cathedral.
Heath was interested in art, music, sailing, politics, and China, and his house represents all those interests. The reception room is devoted to sailing with pictures of yachts at sea and models of his five boats in a glass case. There are two glass cases in the house, the other filled with Chinese pottery, and we agreed that they felt too museum-like; but they were there in Heath’s day. Music was represented in his reading room with its grand piano, a complete Groves dictionary, and a pile of CDs. On top of the piano were pictures of Heath with Castro, Mao-Zedong, LBJ, Nixon, the Queen, and others. Lin sat in his teapot chair where he would sit to read.
The room was filled with Chinese and Japanese prints, and my favourite thing in the whole house was a series of prints of a junk at different times of the day through from dawn to sunset. You can see them not very well at the top of this picture.
(I’ve now discovered that they are Hiroshi Yoshida’s Inland Sea series, and I’ve found a picture of them online.)
You can rent the dining room for dinner, and it’s filled with strong pictures by John Piper. Heath had what seemed to us good taste in art, and he had pictures by Augustus and Gwen John, Sargent, Sickert, and Ken Howard. Combining his love of art and politics he had two signed pictures by Winston Churchill. His bookshelves were filled with art books. The staircase had startlingly large Chinese silk wallpaper with pictures of the Monkey King. Upstairs was his office that led through his bathroom—with a bidet, I was glad to see—to his bedroom. The upstairs also had a large guest room, the room where Mary Wilson stayed after he husband’s death. We didn’t see either a kitchen or the quarters of his housekeeper.
That we were the only two in the house—with the guide—made the visit more special than if the house had been crowded. After visiting he house we walked to the river at the end of the garden. The guide explained how the river had once been visible from the house, but the security forced had blocked the view with trees to stop a possible sniper. (Heath, the guide reminded us, was prime minister at the time of Bloody Sunday.) From the garden there are wonderful views of the cathedral.
If you get the chance, I recommend visiting the house. You might even make a special journey (easy from London) and take in the cathedral, Magna Carta, and other houses and museums in the close.
Richard Smith's non-medical blogs 