Tom Peck on Arthur Scargill’s worst nightmare
Hell, it is often said, is the vision of our deepest fears made real. And for much of the population of Great Britain, it can, for a few more hours at least, be found at the top of a flight of stairs at Christie’s auction house.
Not even Arthur Scargill can have had a nightmare so vivid. Set around a wide, dark heptagon and bathed in yellow light there are 36 Margaret Thatchers. Dressed in navy and red and green, in pink and purple and billowing crimson taffeta, but each of them is dead-eyed and bald headed, like Roald Dahl’s witches. Mannequins with the brocade of history on their shoulders.
“Mrs Thatcher: Property from the Collection of The Right Honourable The Baroness Thatcher of Kesteven, LG, OM, FRS” is currently filling two large rooms at Christie’s, until the physical auction this afternoon, and the completion of the online auction tomorrow.
The ornate dresses are just a few of the more than 200 of Margaret Thatcher’s possessions made available for sale with no small amount of controversy by her daughter Carol. It is expected to make her half-a-million pounds, if not substantially more.
Many of the items were official gifts from heads of state which Carol exercised the right to purchase, only to put them up for sale in a private auction from which she alone will benefit. It is this that is said to have infuriated the rest of the family. But they may also have their concerns about the making public of what, in more than a few circumstances, might be considered in somewhat questionable taste. In the centre of the room is a 3fthigh porcelain bald eagle, which for many years rested by the front door of the former Prime Minister’s London home on Chester Square. It is, an engraved base plate informs, a gift from Ronald Reagan in return for her “staunch and spirited support of the market economy principle”.
It is hard, really, to overstate how ugly it is – a matter on which Christie’s themselves, by the way, “couldn’t possibly comment”. They think it will go for £5,000 to £8,000, if not more. Thirty years on and the market economy principle could scarcely be more spiritedly supported.
Marginally less intimidating, but by no means more attractive, are the pair of Meissen ware hoopoes, which are on for £500. The Duke of Wellington reclining in a chair and cast in parian is a mere £400.
A “George III boxwoodstring, ebonised and mahogany knife box” is expected to raise £500. It sits tantalisingly underneath that famous photograph of the Cabinet in July 1990. Most of those pictured were reaching for the knives soon after it was taken.
It’s possible that the people having a perusal of the items yesterday were not a representative sample of those who will end up parting with £500,000 or more to take the items away with them.
Haranguing the staff over
The sale is expected to fetch Carol Thatcher £500,000, if not more
their knowledge of Thatcher’s life seemed a popular pastime. One lady, in the late afternoon, was furious to discover today’s auction would not be “transmitted live”. In fact, there is a live stream on Christie’s website. “Well I’m not internetted so I won’t be watching,” she said. The Iron Lady would have been proud.
In some instances the touch of Mrs Thatcher has been less than Midas-like. The Swiss gilt brass Atmos carriage clock is estimated at £700 to £1,000. They go for almost exactly that on eBay.
Among the books, a signed copy of Gorbachev’s Perestroika fares better in the valuer’s eye than both Kissinger’s autobiographies. The former is valued at £2,500.
There has been some degree of anger that many of these items will be “allowed to leave Britain”. That publicly funded museums should have come forth to pay Carol Thatcher for items that were once given as a gift to the state. But her mother’s views on the matter are inconveniently etched in brass at the bottom of a porcelain bald eagle, which, should it fly away to a new home overseas, will be no great loss to the nation.