Nathaniel Charles Jacob Rothschild, fourth Baron Rothschild, was the most kindly and courteous of gentlemen. He was known to all at his beloved Waddesdon simply as ‘Lord R’. Americans, realistically but incorrectly, tended to call him Lord Jacob.
Jacob appreciated and enjoyed the lavish trappings that surrounded him, but in his personal bearing he was informal, almost humble. He cared; he was thoughtful. At the end of a conversation, no matter how it had gone, and how busy he was, he would gently enquire ‘Everything alright – anything else ?’
His projects, his philanthropy, his business acumen, his vision, his complete mastery of the big picture and the minutest detail, his artistic restorations and his huge achievements over an unbelievably rich life are well documented. They are legendary, iconic and unique.
It was said that he was the only telephone caller for whom the Pope would get out of his bath. His address book was a collection of international connections that Jacob had assiduously cultivated over the fullest of lifetimes. They were names that spanned every conceivable topic or subject that interested him. Like all good Rothschilds, he was an avid collector. Wine was no exception.
Although a minority shareholder in the greatest wine of them all, Château Lafite Rothschild, and cousin to the owners of Château Mouton Rothschild, Jacob was not directly involved in the business of wine. This he was determined to rectify. From an early age, he started to collect, and enjoy, wine. It helped that his dividend from his shareholding in Lafite was paid in liquid form. He immersed himself in the art of wine and was much more knowledgeable than he let on. Very Jacob.
His chance came in the early 1990s when he inherited from his Aunt Dolly the responsibilities of Waddesdon Manor, architecturally built as a classic French château in the rolling hills of Buckinghamshire. From the beginning his vision was for Waddesdon to be the mecca of Rothschild wine in the UK.
There was no wine cellar, so he set about creating one to house his own 15,000 bottles of Lafite and related wines. There was no wine shop, so he opened one. There was no wine programme, so he initiated one.
The first time Jacob showed me the vast unlit basement that was destined to become the Waddesdon wine cellar, I felt a frisson of excitement, a sense of adventure. Here was a driven man who knew what he wanted. Very gentle, very persuasive, very confident, yet with that iron will that won him undying respect and loyalty.
If Jacob showed you loyalty and if you showed it back, there was no greater reward.
During visits to the wine cellar, he often adjusted pictures on the wall or suggested a different table positioning. He was always right. He had that unerring sense of style, another classic Rothschild trait.
Over the next 30-plus years, the wine cellar has been renovated and restored. The wine shop has blossomed and expanded. The wine programme continues unabated, but the significant change has been the emergence of the highly successful Waddesdon Wine company, representing all three wine branches of the Rothschild family as well as other prestigious producers in the UK. In addition, Waddesdon is much respected as the focal point for Château Lafite outside the château itself.
Recently, Waddesdon Wine merged with fine-wine merchant Goedhuis & Co to create Goedhuis Waddesdon. Thus Jacob achieved his long-held ambition to be a major force in the international fine-wine business – only months before his death, but he did it.
Jacob was a serious person who could laugh uproariously on occasion. He spoke clearly, his head usually a little down. His delivery was his and his alone. Sometimes mimical, always methodical. His brain seemed to whirr faster than anyone’s.
I had once told him that he was often two steps ahead of me. Outlining a new project on the telephone, he suddenly asked ‘Am I going too fast for you, Ben?’ ‘You are always going too fast, Jacob’. He chuckled and carried on at the same speed.
In the early days, when emails started appearing, Jacob’s secretaries were concerned that he might receive unwanted junk mail. He looked up and pointed out in his classic, slightly world-weary way, ‘Even a very rich man can press the delete button’.
Honouring his Hungarian aunt, Jacob became interested in the fabled wines of Tokaj. He summoned the Hungarian ambassador to ask his permission for a Rothschild to invest in his country and sent me to start negotiating. When the fledgling Royal Tokaji Company needed funds to exist and expand, we went to Jacob on the proverbial bended knee. Looking at our books, he wryly remarked, ‘Well, it looks to me that you are half pregnant. You can’t go forwards and you can’t go backwards.’ He duly signed a most welcome cheque.
Michael Broadbent was coming up the drive to look at the legendary, but conspiracy-laden, empty bottle of Lafite 1787 that was on display in the wine cellars. He wanted to check the contents again. Any request at Waddesdon such as that had to be sanctioned by Lord R. It was the day that Lehmann Brothers collapsed in 2008, triggering the great financial crisis. I was waiting for an answer. He wearily framed himself in the doorway and slowly intoned ‘Ben, do I understand that on this catastrophic, cataclysmic day when the financial world, as we know it, is on the verge of collapse, all you want me to look at is an empty bottle?’ Pure Jacob.
Jacob loved hosting dinner parties for the rich and famous at Waddesdon or at his other restoration triumph, Spencer House in St James’s, close to his London office. On occasion, he used to ask each guest to sign his or her name on a specially produced back label of the magnum of Rothschild wine that he had just served. One day, he left the signed back label on the dining room table. The butler found it, thought nothing of it and threw it away. That soon stopped.
For over 30 years, I was fortunate enough to spend time with this enigmatic, brilliant, likeable, visionary man. At first I was an advisor, then a colleague, and when he once introduced me as a friend, my journey was complete.
Hugh Johnson and I were due to lunch with Jacob, at Eythrope, three weeks before he died to discuss yet more new wine projects. The lunch was postponed as he was beginning to fade; he may have faded, but his legacy certainly must not.
RIP Lord R.
Image credit: Derek Pelling.
