BELFAST may have, for many, melancholy associations with RMS Titanic and The Troubles, but for much of its modern history it was a money-making town. In the 19th century, it was the centre of global linen production and had the biggest shipyard in the world, Harland and Wolff, employing 35,000 men. Large fortunes were created and its captains of industry built fine houses for themselves. As were many of the city’s most successful businessmen, James Combe was a Scot, who moved to Belfast in 1845 and opened a foundry off the Falls Road, making equipment for the rapidly expanding railways and inventing a flax-carding machine.
By 1866, he was rich enough to commission Scotland’s leading architect, David Bryce, to design a large house for him on a 62-acre estate near the city’s eastern edge. Named after the Scottish village in which Combe was born, Ormiston House is in an architectural style that might be called Belfast Baronial, with a central three-storey tower house flanked by two-storey wings on either side, all faced in imported Giffnock sandstone.
A few years after Combe’s death in 1875, the house was acquired by Sir Edward Harland of Harland & Wolff, followed 10 years later by Harland’s business partner, William Pirrie, who became Mayor of Belfast in 1896 —although he’s best-remembered today for leading the design of RMS Titanic.
Pirrie spent most of his time at his London house in Belgrave Square or at Witley Park in Surrey, but Ormiston provided a perfect venue for corporate and corporation entertainment, as well as a grace-and-favour home for company directors. A ballroom was built in the grounds and the entrance drive illuminated by ornate gas lamps (which were installed at the city’s expense, even as the surrounding streets remained unlit).
この記事は Country Life UK の June 17, 2020 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です ? サインイン
この記事は Country Life UK の June 17, 2020 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
Give it some stick
Galloping through the imagination, competitive hobby-horsing is a gymnastic sport on the rise in Britain, discovers Sybilla Hart
Paper escapes
Steven King selects his best travel books of 2024
For love, not money
This year may have marked the end of brag-art’, bought merely to show off one’s wealth. It’s time for a return to looking for connoisseurship, beauty and taste
Mary I: more bruised than bloody
Cast as a sanguinary tyrant, our first Queen Regnant may not deserve her brutal reputation, believes Geoffrey Munn
A love supreme
Art brought together 19th-century Norwich couple Joseph and Emily Stannard, who shared a passion for painting, but their destiny would be dramatically different
Private views
One of the best ways-often the only way-to visit the finest privately owned gardens in the country is by joining an exclusive tour. Non Morris does exactly that
Shhhhhh...
THERE is great delight to be had poring over the front pages of COUNTRY LIFE each week, dreaming of what life would be like in a Scottish castle (so reasonably priced, but do bear in mind the midges) or a townhouse in London’s Eaton Square (worth a king’s ransom, but, oh dear, the traffic) or perhaps that cottage in the Cotswolds (if you don’t mind standing next to Hollywood A-listers in the queue at Daylesford). The estate agent’s particulars will give you details of acreage, proximity to schools and railway stations, but never—no, never—an indication of noise levels.
Mission impossible
Rubble and ruin were all that remained of the early-19th-century Villa Frere and its gardens, planted by the English diplomat John Hookham Frere, until a group of dedicated volunteers came to its rescue. Josephine Tyndale-Biscoe tells the story
When a perfect storm hits
Weather, wars, elections and financial uncertainty all conspired against high-end house sales this year, but there were still some spectacular deals
Give the dog a bone
Man's best friend still needs to eat like its Lupus forebears, believes Jonathan Self, when it's not guarding food, greeting us or destroying our upholstery, of course