Rubies from rubble
The beauty of the Ballyedmond
In the study at 9 Belgrave Square sits a 19th-century parquetry bureau that would not look out of place in Buckingham Palace. Gilded at every curve and corner and crowned with twin bronze candelabras, it looks fit for the Queen to pull up a chair and give assent to a matter of state.
But an equally splendid desk to the left bears a modern printer, scanner and several phones, their wires trailing haphazardly to the floor.
It jars somewhat, to see the functional implements of modern life colliding with the elegance of the past, but the scene tells you a little about the man who used to inhabit this room. The late Lord Ballyedmond, the Irish peer and businessman who owned this exquisite, six-storey Belgravia townhouse, was in many ways a mass of contradictions.
Born humble Edward Haughey, he grew up on the family smallholding in County Louth, on the southern side of the troubled border between Ireland and Northern Ireland.
He went on to become a wellrespected politician on both sides of the divide, one of the first to take a seat in the upper houses of both the Irish Republic and the United Kingdom, having been created a life peer as Baron Ballyedmond of Mourne in County Down on behalf of the Ulster Unionist Party, before switching to the Conservatives.
Meanwhile, the former shop-boy turned self-made multi-millionaire grew his veterinary pharmaceutical company, Norbrook Laboratories, to such heights that by the time of his death in 2014, he was the richest man in Northern Ireland.
Belgrave Square was his London residence; inspired by the salons of the 18th century, it was here he entertained heads of state, closed global business deals, and brought together opposing individuals from his home country who might never have communed, had they not been invited to break bread at his table.
But this was also the place in which he fulfilled his greatest passion – the acquisition and restoration of antiques and historical artefacts.
“He was interested in beautiful things from the past,” his widow, Lady Mary Ballyedmond tells me as she shows me around the house. “He had such an eclectic eye for interesting things, and an amazing ability to understand engineering and architecture.”
We meet, along with the eldest of her two sons, Edward, and daughter Caroline, at a difficult time for the family. They have decided to sell 9 Belgrave Square, along with almost all the contents, save a few personal items.
The day after my visit, every piece of silver, every teacup, every decanter – the peer’s “props for entertaining”, according to his son – are to be packed up by Sotheby’s. Next month, they will be sold at an auction where the artefacts and furnishings alone are expected to make £3.2 million.
I sense that to keep this house, which was so “him” (it was a wreck when he bought it in 2006, before he furnished and redesigned it himself), would no longer feel right, now the family is finally coming to terms with the tragic circumstances of his death, aged 70, in 2014.
On a stormy March night, the peer set off by helicopter from Gillingham Hall, his Norfolk estate, for his main residence, Ballyedmond Castle in County Down, but it crashed shortly after take-off, killing him, his foreman and two pilots. An inquest later revealed that weather conditions were so poor that the helicopter would not have been cleared for take-off from a licensed aerodrome.
The disaster rocked the family to the core. Three years since his death, it’s clear they are still struggling to make sense of the sudden loss. Every inch of the house is suffused with family memories. “It’s impossible to have tea or coffee without thinking of him, because what you’re drinking out of today he would have lovingly collected and selected,” says Edward, who has taken over the family business.
“He really believed in artisanal craftsmanship – he loved it and relished it,” adds Caroline, recalling how every holiday would end up in a grand excursion to the local antiques market. A visit to the Taj Mahal resulted in several hours spent in an Agra marble factory, commissioning fireplaces and worktops.
“He could find rubies in the rubble,” she says, fondly. “After our father passed away, the four of us went on a tour, almost to pay tribute to him. We visited gardens and looked at antiques, and we did it as if he was there – and he was there in spirit.”
Lord Ballyedmond wasn’t interested in acquiring beautiful things for them to sit behind a velvet rope, which is why the house and its contents will not be turned into a museum, though it could rival the Wallace Collection.
“He loved for the end product to be used and shared and to revel in the glory of someone else’s craftsmanship,” says Caroline.
“Do you remember the warmth of an evening meal here after Ascot?” Lady Mary asks her daughter, as she shows me into the banquet hall, where the silver service covers the 34-seat mahogany table, glittering even without the candles lit. Every year at Ascot, she tells me, they would invite friends to stay and dine with them after the day’s activity.
“I remember walking in one time when Dad had the Chilean president to dinner,” says Caroline, a highflying barrister and mother to four young daughters. “It was just after the miners had been found. You opened the door and it was like walking back in time. The table hummed it was so vibrant!”
So, why sell a place that holds such fond memories?. The answer, says Lady Ballyedmond, is that her husband would want this house and all the wonderful things in it to be used and enjoyed – something which the rest of the family, with their busy lives, don’t feel they can now do.
She hopes the artefacts will go to “someone who will use them”. Besides, the reach of his legacy extends far beyond this collection. “Really, to benefit mankind, to do something outside himself, that is his legacy – his business, but also what he did for Northern Ireland.”
“It’s the people whose lives he changed,” agrees Caroline. “He wasn’t from Northern Ireland, but he believed that this small island of a sort, with a border, could be a great place.”
What will Caroline, Edward and their brother James tell their own children about their grandpa? “I’ll tell them about his incredible sense of humour,” says Edward. “And the way in which he was able to animate people from all backgrounds.
“I’ll tell them to try and get on in life and be productive. To seek thrill in the battle, as he did, and also to be good to your fellow man and enjoy his company.” The Ballyedmond collection will be sold on May 23 and 24; sothebys.com