Ted Heath's home for sale as museum idea fails to take off

LONDON LETTER:After his death, the former PM's museum opened as planned but has since been deemed unviable

TED HEATH, cursed by shyness and frequently appallingly rude, had an unerring ability to make life difficult for himself, but he was fond of Pharaoh, an Egyptian goose that took up residence on the grounds of Arundells, his beautiful home in Salisbury. He thought the goose, which had rather eccentric habits, conferred distinction.

Long retired by the time he arrived in Arundells in 1985 from his tumultuous days in No 10 Downing Street, which were marked by strikes and despondency, Heath hoped that the house would be a museum after his death, displaying the tonnes of papers he had collected during his political career.

Standing inside a two-acre walled garden in Salisbury’s Cathedral Close, the house began life as a canonry during the 13th century, though much of its current appearance dates from the early 18th century, when it was extensively re-built and added to by John Wyndham, who later gave it as a wedding present to his daughter.

Heath, who did not retire from the House of Commons until 2001, quickly came to love it, preferring to be driven down from London late at night so he could greet the morning there. Once at home, his routine rarely varied, says his biographer, Philip Zeigler. He watched news and current affairs on TV, sometimes cricket and tennis, and later developed an interest in American football that exasperated his friends. He enjoyed playing the role of host around the 10-seat dinner-table, particularly with actors such as Maggie Smith and Michael Palin, though other guests struggled to develop any intimacy with him.

One rebuked him once, “Well, are you going to talk to me?” Heath is said to have stayed deep in thought for a moment, before replying, “No”.

Even in retirement, the former Conservative leader retained the ability to antagonise. He had leased the house, with its handsome Queen Anne facade and a fine view from the front windows of Salisbury Cathedral, from the cathedral’s dean, for £500, along with a down-payment of about £250,000, after he had tired of living in London in the Wilton Street, Belgravia house once targeted by IRA bombers.

In the mid-1990s, legislation was passed that allowed holders of long leases to buy out the freehold, though those leasing valuable properties were forbidden from doing so if the owner had put a clause in the contract that barred them such a route to full ownership.

Heath’s solicitors quickly spotted that the Dean of Salisbury had not put in such a clause and they advised him to buy.

Upset, but conscious that the former PM had the law on his side, the dean, Hugh Dickinson, appealed to him not to exercise his rights, or, at least, to leave the property after his death to the Church of England. The bachelor Heath, however, was not in a mood to compromise and bought the freehold for the house – now valued at £5m – for £700,000.

Even worse, he then gloated at having “got one over” on the church. Word, of course, soon leaked out and the neighbours in Cathedral Close took a dim view, though they maintained relations with a man who could only ever truly communicate when he was at the keyboard of a piano.

When he died, however, it was a different story, as some of them showed in 2007 when they opposed a planning application to turn Arundells into a museum.

Faced with 16 local objectors, who said they feared the plan would “ruin the unspoiled and peaceful character and setting of majestic Salisbury Cathedral”, Conservative councillors vetoed the plan, though the trustees persisted and it opened a year later. Since then, more than 15,000 people have visited, poring over some of the gifts given to Heath during his political career, including one from Saddam Hussein.

However, the trustees struggled. The income from visitors was never enough to sustain the property. Friends of Heath, a gallant and patient group during his life, gathered round and put a proposal to the Charity Commission to introduce savings and increase revenues, though all now accept that Arundells’s days as an open house are numbered.

“The trustees greatly appreciate the interest in and enthusiasm for Arundells which has been evinced, and have given careful consideration to these proposals. They have been obliged to conclude that the proposals could never suffice to enable the foundation to operate on a viable basis,” they said, in a statement earlier this month.

In setting up his charitable foundation, Heath had given the trustees the exit that they have now been forced to use. His collection of paintings, including two from Winston Churchill – one double-signed – will be spread to the four corners.

Heath was an accomplished pianist and installed a Steinway piano in No 10 after he took up office – paid for from a European prize he won in 1963 for trying but failing to bring the UK into the common market, a feat he later achieved. The money raised from the house sale will now go to some of the musical and education charities he favoured in life. Arundells will close “with regret” on October 27th.