Prime Ministers' Props

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Neville Chamberlain always liked to carry a big black umbrella. It was intended to project an image of the quintessential Englishman, who was always smart, prepared and, in a manner of speaking, neatly furled. When Chamberlain arrived home after meeting Hitler at Munich in 1938, he was clutching Hitler's signed piece of paper in one hand and his brolly in the other. His umbrella now took on a new and potent symbolism as a "peace umbrella" and one that would keep the German bombs from raining down on British heads. He was sent hundreds of umbrellas by a grateful public and there was even a song composed at the time that contained the lyrics, "You look swell holding your umbrella / All the world loves a wonderful fella".

Yet as war broke out in Europe, Chamberlain's trademark brolly was quickly seized upon by his enemies as a laughable symbol of his gentlemanly ineffectiveness and it became a lightening-rod for critics of appeasement. Declassified MI5 records reveal how Hitler mocked him for it - and Chamberlain's once so celebrated umbrella morphed from useful trademark into an embarrassing symbol of political weakness and pusillanimity.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

Sir David Cannadine explores the changing image of Neville Chamberlain's umbrella.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Neville Chamberlain always liked to carry a big black umbrella. It was intended to project an image of the quintessential Englishman, who was always smart, prepared and, in a manner of speaking, neatly furled. When Chamberlain arrived home after meeting Hitler at Munich in 1938, he was clutching Hitler's signed piece of paper in one hand and his brolly in the other. His umbrella now took on a new and potent symbolism as a "peace umbrella" and one that would keep the German bombs from raining down on British heads. He was sent hundreds of umbrellas by a grateful public and there was even a song composed at the time that contained the lyrics, "You look swell holding your umbrella / All the world loves a wonderful fella".

Yet as war broke out in Europe, Chamberlain's trademark brolly was quickly seized upon by his enemies as a laughable symbol of his gentlemanly ineffectiveness and it became a lightening-rod for critics of appeasement. Declassified MI5 records reveal how Hitler mocked him for it - and Chamberlain's once so celebrated umbrella morphed from useful trademark into an embarrassing symbol of political weakness and pusillanimity.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

Sir David Cannadine explores the changing image of Neville Chamberlain's umbrella.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Neville Chamberlain always liked to carry a big black umbrella. It was intended to project an image of the quintessential Englishman, who was always smart, prepared and, in a manner of speaking, neatly furled. When Chamberlain arrived home after meeting Hitler at Munich in 1938, he was clutching Hitler's signed piece of paper in one hand and his brolly in the other. His umbrella now took on a new and potent symbolism as a "peace umbrella" and one that would keep the German bombs from raining down on British heads. He was sent hundreds of umbrellas by a grateful public and there was even a song composed at the time that contained the lyrics, "You look swell holding your umbrella / All the world loves a wonderful fella".

Yet as war broke out in Europe, Chamberlain's trademark brolly was quickly seized upon by his enemies as a laughable symbol of his gentlemanly ineffectiveness and it became a lightening-rod for critics of appeasement. Declassified MI5 records reveal how Hitler mocked him for it - and Chamberlain's once so celebrated umbrella morphed from useful trademark into an embarrassing symbol of political weakness and pusillanimity.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

Sir David Cannadine explores the changing image of Neville Chamberlain's umbrella.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Neville Chamberlain always liked to carry a big black umbrella. It was intended to project an image of the quintessential Englishman, who was always smart, prepared and, in a manner of speaking, neatly furled. When Chamberlain arrived home after meeting Hitler at Munich in 1938, he was clutching Hitler's signed piece of paper in one hand and his brolly in the other. His umbrella now took on a new and potent symbolism as a "peace umbrella" and one that would keep the German bombs from raining down on British heads. He was sent hundreds of umbrellas by a grateful public and there was even a song composed at the time that contained the lyrics, "You look swell holding your umbrella / All the world loves a wonderful fella".

Yet as war broke out in Europe, Chamberlain's trademark brolly was quickly seized upon by his enemies as a laughable symbol of his gentlemanly ineffectiveness and it became a lightening-rod for critics of appeasement. Declassified MI5 records reveal how Hitler mocked him for it - and Chamberlain's once so celebrated umbrella morphed from useful trademark into an embarrassing symbol of political weakness and pusillanimity.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

Sir David Cannadine explores the changing image of Neville Chamberlain's umbrella.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

In 1937, Stanley Baldwin retired in what was considered a blaze of glory, and he expected to live out his remaining days as a revered elder statesman behind his wrought-iron gates at his country estate, Astley Hall. But the Second World War changed everything and Baldwin's reputation collapsed when he became the scapegoat for Britain being ill-equipped to fight Hitler.

The problem became centred on his iron gates when, in September 1941, Stanley Baldwin's old enemy, Lord Beaverbrook, asked all local authorities to survey their area's iron and steel gates for requisitioning as scrap metal. Baldwin duly applied for exemption for the Astley Hall gates on the grounds of artistic merit. However Beaverbrook bit back and Baldwin's gates became something of a cause celebre and the focus for a national campaign hounding an old appeaser who was now seen to be hampering the war effort.

Stanley Baldwin's iron gates at Astley Hall were eventually removed, all except the pair of presentation gates given to him by the Worcestershire Association on his retirement. Sir David Cannadine goes in search of Baldwin's remaining gates to find out what happened to them.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Stanley Baldwin's controversial iron gates during World War Two

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

In 1937, Stanley Baldwin retired in what was considered a blaze of glory, and he expected to live out his remaining days as a revered elder statesman behind his wrought-iron gates at his country estate, Astley Hall. But the Second World War changed everything and Baldwin's reputation collapsed when he became the scapegoat for Britain being ill-equipped to fight Hitler.

The problem became centred on his iron gates when, in September 1941, Stanley Baldwin's old enemy, Lord Beaverbrook, asked all local authorities to survey their area's iron and steel gates for requisitioning as scrap metal. Baldwin duly applied for exemption for the Astley Hall gates on the grounds of artistic merit. However Beaverbrook bit back and Baldwin's gates became something of a cause celebre and the focus for a national campaign hounding an old appeaser who was now seen to be hampering the war effort.

Stanley Baldwin's iron gates at Astley Hall were eventually removed, all except the pair of presentation gates given to him by the Worcestershire Association on his retirement. Sir David Cannadine goes in search of Baldwin's remaining gates to find out what happened to them.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Stanley Baldwin's controversial iron gates during World War Two

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

In 1937, Stanley Baldwin retired in what was considered a blaze of glory, and he expected to live out his remaining days as a revered elder statesman behind his wrought-iron gates at his country estate, Astley Hall. But the Second World War changed everything and Baldwin's reputation collapsed when he became the scapegoat for Britain being ill-equipped to fight Hitler.

The problem became centred on his iron gates when, in September 1941, Stanley Baldwin's old enemy, Lord Beaverbrook, asked all local authorities to survey their area's iron and steel gates for requisitioning as scrap metal. Baldwin duly applied for exemption for the Astley Hall gates on the grounds of artistic merit. However Beaverbrook bit back and Baldwin's gates became something of a cause celebre and the focus for a national campaign hounding an old appeaser who was now seen to be hampering the war effort.

Stanley Baldwin's iron gates at Astley Hall were eventually removed, all except the pair of presentation gates given to him by the Worcestershire Association on his retirement. Sir David Cannadine goes in search of Baldwin's remaining gates to find out what happened to them.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Stanley Baldwin's controversial iron gates during World War Two

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Anthony Eden was one of the briefest serving Prime Ministers of modern times, and his name became inseparably linked with the Suez fiasco of 1956, from which his reputation has never recovered. But in the earlier stages of his political career, Eden was widely regarded as the most attractive and glamorous figure in British public life. These qualities were both proclaimed and symbolised by his Homburg hat, which he briefly made fashionable when it became known as the Eden on Savile Row. In fact, Anthony Eden is the only British Prime Minister, apart from the Duke of Wellington, to have had an item of apparel named after him.

But with Eden's fall from grace, the Eden hat was quickly forgotten and one biographer wrote scathingly in the 1960s, "who wears an Anthony Eden hat today?"

And while we still use the phrase Wellington boot, and remember the victor of Waterloo, the Eden Homburg, and the man who gave his name to it, have both been largely forgotten.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores the changing significance of Anthony Eden's Homburg hat.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Anthony Eden was one of the briefest serving Prime Ministers of modern times, and his name became inseparably linked with the Suez fiasco of 1956, from which his reputation has never recovered. But in the earlier stages of his political career, Eden was widely regarded as the most attractive and glamorous figure in British public life. These qualities were both proclaimed and symbolised by his Homburg hat, which he briefly made fashionable when it became known as the Eden on Savile Row. In fact, Anthony Eden is the only British Prime Minister, apart from the Duke of Wellington, to have had an item of apparel named after him.

But with Eden's fall from grace, the Eden hat was quickly forgotten and one biographer wrote scathingly in the 1960s, "who wears an Anthony Eden hat today?"

And while we still use the phrase Wellington boot, and remember the victor of Waterloo, the Eden Homburg, and the man who gave his name to it, have both been largely forgotten.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores the changing significance of Anthony Eden's Homburg hat.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Anthony Eden was one of the briefest serving Prime Ministers of modern times, and his name became inseparably linked with the Suez fiasco of 1956, from which his reputation has never recovered. But in the earlier stages of his political career, Eden was widely regarded as the most attractive and glamorous figure in British public life. These qualities were both proclaimed and symbolised by his Homburg hat, which he briefly made fashionable when it became known as the Eden on Savile Row. In fact, Anthony Eden is the only British Prime Minister, apart from the Duke of Wellington, to have had an item of apparel named after him.

But with Eden's fall from grace, the Eden hat was quickly forgotten and one biographer wrote scathingly in the 1960s, "who wears an Anthony Eden hat today?"

And while we still use the phrase Wellington boot, and remember the victor of Waterloo, the Eden Homburg, and the man who gave his name to it, have both been largely forgotten.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores the changing significance of Anthony Eden's Homburg hat.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

The aristocratic Sir Alec Douglas-Home appeared removed both from the majority of the British people and, to some extent, the modern world itself. He showed the depth of his inexperience when he casually commented to a reporter that he used matchsticks to help him understand economic problems. "When I have to read economic documents I have to have a box of matches and start moving them into position to simplify and illustrate the points to myself."

It was a gift for Leader of the Opposition, Harold Wilson, who used the matchstick comment to goad and embarrass the Conservative Prime Minister at every opportunity. The matchsticks came to define Sir Alec's inadequacies as leader and, when it came to problem-solving, his ultimately successful opponent Wilson was more familiar with slide rules than matchsticks.

Home's premiership was the second briefest of the twentieth century, lasting just two days short of a year. Who knows what would have happened if Sir Alec hadn't made that careless matchstick comment.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Sir Alec Douglas-Home's matchbox economics.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

The aristocratic Sir Alec Douglas-Home appeared removed both from the majority of the British people and, to some extent, the modern world itself. He showed the depth of his inexperience when he casually commented to a reporter that he used matchsticks to help him understand economic problems. "When I have to read economic documents I have to have a box of matches and start moving them into position to simplify and illustrate the points to myself."

It was a gift for Leader of the Opposition, Harold Wilson, who used the matchstick comment to goad and embarrass the Conservative Prime Minister at every opportunity. The matchsticks came to define Sir Alec's inadequacies as leader and, when it came to problem-solving, his ultimately successful opponent Wilson was more familiar with slide rules than matchsticks.

Home's premiership was the second briefest of the twentieth century, lasting just two days short of a year. Who knows what would have happened if Sir Alec hadn't made that careless matchstick comment.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Sir Alec Douglas-Home's matchbox economics.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

The aristocratic Sir Alec Douglas-Home appeared removed both from the majority of the British people and, to some extent, the modern world itself. He showed the depth of his inexperience when he casually commented to a reporter that he used matchsticks to help him understand economic problems. "When I have to read economic documents I have to have a box of matches and start moving them into position to simplify and illustrate the points to myself."

It was a gift for Leader of the Opposition, Harold Wilson, who used the matchstick comment to goad and embarrass the Conservative Prime Minister at every opportunity. The matchsticks came to define Sir Alec's inadequacies as leader and, when it came to problem-solving, his ultimately successful opponent Wilson was more familiar with slide rules than matchsticks.

Home's premiership was the second briefest of the twentieth century, lasting just two days short of a year. Who knows what would have happened if Sir Alec hadn't made that careless matchstick comment.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Sir Alec Douglas-Home's matchbox economics.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

The aristocratic Sir Alec Douglas-Home appeared removed both from the majority of the British people and, to some extent, the modern world itself. He showed the depth of his inexperience when he casually commented to a reporter that he used matchsticks to help him understand economic problems. "When I have to read economic documents I have to have a box of matches and start moving them into position to simplify and illustrate the points to myself."

It was a gift for Leader of the Opposition, Harold Wilson, who used the matchstick comment to goad and embarrass the Conservative Prime Minister at every opportunity. The matchsticks came to define Sir Alec's inadequacies as leader and, when it came to problem-solving, his ultimately successful opponent Wilson was more familiar with slide rules than matchsticks.

Home's premiership was the second briefest of the twentieth century, lasting just two days short of a year. Who knows what would have happened if Sir Alec hadn't made that careless matchstick comment.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in August 2016.

David Cannadine explores Sir Alec Douglas-Home's matchbox economics.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Harold Wilson sought to enhance his political image, in part by wearing a Gannex mac which made him seem ordinary, and also by puffing at his pipe, as memorably expressed in Ruskin Spear's 1974 portrait of him.

Following Stanley Baldwin, who had also made much of his pipe, Harold Wilson hoped to convey an image that was homely, benevolent and avuncular, and to some extent he succeeded. But the unintended consequence was that the pipe also enhanced Wilson's reputation for evasiveness and deviousness. Whenever asked a difficult question by an interviewer, he would delay and distract attention by lighting up - and it was widely believed that, although he puffed his pipe in public, he preferred cigars in private. A rumour that his son, Robin Wilson, scotches.

The Gannex mac was also to become a hostage to fortune for Wilson. While he was the peak of his popularity, the Gannex made him look like a man of the people and the millionaire businessman who invented Gannex, Joseph Kagan, became a close friend of Wilson. But once Kagan fell from grace due to his crooked business dealings, Wilson's Kagan connection was further evidence to his enemies that he was not to be trusted.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in September 2016.

David Cannadine explores how Harold Wilson's pipe and Gannex mac came to define him.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Harold Wilson sought to enhance his political image, in part by wearing a Gannex mac which made him seem ordinary, and also by puffing at his pipe, as memorably expressed in Ruskin Spear's 1974 portrait of him.

Following Stanley Baldwin, who had also made much of his pipe, Harold Wilson hoped to convey an image that was homely, benevolent and avuncular, and to some extent he succeeded. But the unintended consequence was that the pipe also enhanced Wilson's reputation for evasiveness and deviousness. Whenever asked a difficult question by an interviewer, he would delay and distract attention by lighting up - and it was widely believed that, although he puffed his pipe in public, he preferred cigars in private. A rumour that his son, Robin Wilson, scotches.

The Gannex mac was also to become a hostage to fortune for Wilson. While he was the peak of his popularity, the Gannex made him look like a man of the people and the millionaire businessman who invented Gannex, Joseph Kagan, became a close friend of Wilson. But once Kagan fell from grace due to his crooked business dealings, Wilson's Kagan connection was further evidence to his enemies that he was not to be trusted.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in September 2016.

David Cannadine explores how Harold Wilson's pipe and Gannex mac came to define him.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop, whether chosen deliberately or otherwise, can come to define a political leader - from Winston Churchill's cigar and siren suit to Margaret Thatcher's handbag.

Sir David looks at the significance of these props of power - what they mean and what they become, and what happens when, almost inevitably, Prime Ministers lose control of their image and their props take on a hostile meaning, very different from their original intentions.

Harold Wilson sought to enhance his political image, in part by wearing a Gannex mac which made him seem ordinary, and also by puffing at his pipe, as memorably expressed in Ruskin Spear's 1974 portrait of him.

Following Stanley Baldwin, who had also made much of his pipe, Harold Wilson hoped to convey an image that was homely, benevolent and avuncular, and to some extent he succeeded. But the unintended consequence was that the pipe also enhanced Wilson's reputation for evasiveness and deviousness. Whenever asked a difficult question by an interviewer, he would delay and distract attention by lighting up - and it was widely believed that, although he puffed his pipe in public, he preferred cigars in private. A rumour that his son, Robin Wilson, scotches.

The Gannex mac was also to become a hostage to fortune for Wilson. While he was the peak of his popularity, the Gannex made him look like a man of the people and the millionaire businessman who invented Gannex, Joseph Kagan, became a close friend of Wilson. But once Kagan fell from grace due to his crooked business dealings, Wilson's Kagan connection was further evidence to his enemies that he was not to be trusted.

Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

A Blakeway production first broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in September 2016.

David Cannadine explores how Harold Wilson's pipe and Gannex mac came to define him.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

In producing his 17 novels, Benjamin Disraeli was unusual among British prime ministers in that he created his own props. Indeed, his duel public persona as author and politician brought him public acclaim and prominence and transformed him into one of the first ever media celebrities. But this turned out to be a very high-risk strategy. Disraeli's novels prompted a great deal of distrust among both his political opponents and those within the Conservative party, and they were used to portray him as an opportunist who was not to be trusted.

David Cannadine visits Hughenden Manor in Buckinghamshire, Disraeli's former home and the place where he wrote his most famous novels, to explore how this prime minister merged fact and fiction in his life and in his work.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Disraeli merged fact and fiction in his life and work.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

In producing his 17 novels, Benjamin Disraeli was unusual among British prime ministers in that he created his own props. Indeed, his duel public persona as author and politician brought him public acclaim and prominence and transformed him into one of the first ever media celebrities. But this turned out to be a very high-risk strategy. Disraeli's novels prompted a great deal of distrust among both his political opponents and those within the Conservative party, and they were used to portray him as an opportunist who was not to be trusted.

David Cannadine visits Hughenden Manor in Buckinghamshire, Disraeli's former home and the place where he wrote his most famous novels, to explore how this prime minister merged fact and fiction in his life and in his work.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Disraeli merged fact and fiction in his life and work.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

In an inconspicuous-looking box, in a locked drawer, deep in the archives at Churchill College, Cambridge sits Margaret Thatcher's handbag. David comes face-to-face with this artefact, which came to represent the most visible symbol of our first female prime minister's power to command. As Charles Moore put it in his official biography, "her handbag became the sceptre of her rule." It was a prop that Mrs Thatcher would produce at meetings to show she meant business.

Although Margaret Thatcher didn't like the connotation, by the time of the Falklands conflict, a new verb entered the English language - "to handbag", meaning to subject your opponent to a forthright verbal assault or strident criticism. For the rest of her life, Mrs Thatcher's handbag was almost as newsworthy an item as she was herself and on the day she died, one of her handbag-makers saw a sharp rise in sales of her favourite black structured design.

Readings by Ewan Bailey, Will Huggins and Claire Vousden

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Mrs Thatcher's handbag became a visual symbol of her power.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

In an inconspicuous-looking box, in a locked drawer, deep in the archives at Churchill College, Cambridge sits Margaret Thatcher's handbag. David comes face-to-face with this artefact, which came to represent the most visible symbol of our first female prime minister's power to command. As Charles Moore put it in his official biography, "her handbag became the sceptre of her rule." It was a prop that Mrs Thatcher would produce at meetings to show she meant business.

Although Margaret Thatcher didn't like the connotation, by the time of the Falklands conflict, a new verb entered the English language - "to handbag", meaning to subject your opponent to a forthright verbal assault or strident criticism. For the rest of her life, Mrs Thatcher's handbag was almost as newsworthy an item as she was herself and on the day she died, one of her handbag-makers saw a sharp rise in sales of her favourite black structured design.

Readings by Ewan Bailey, Will Huggins and Claire Vousden

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Mrs Thatcher's handbag became a visual symbol of her power.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

In an inconspicuous-looking box, in a locked drawer, deep in the archives at Churchill College, Cambridge sits Margaret Thatcher's handbag. David comes face-to-face with this artefact, which came to represent the most visible symbol of our first female prime minister's power to command. As Charles Moore put it in his official biography, "her handbag became the sceptre of her rule." It was a prop that Mrs Thatcher would produce at meetings to show she meant business.

Although Margaret Thatcher didn't like the connotation, by the time of the Falklands conflict, a new verb entered the English language - "to handbag", meaning to subject your opponent to a forthright verbal assault or strident criticism. For the rest of her life, Mrs Thatcher's handbag was almost as newsworthy an item as she was herself and on the day she died, one of her handbag-makers saw a sharp rise in sales of her favourite black structured design.

Readings by Ewan Bailey, Will Huggins and Claire Vousden

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Mrs Thatcher's handbag became a visual symbol of her power.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine returns with five more programmes examining the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power. From the Duke of Wellington's boot to Mrs Thatcher's handbag, he explores political fame and image through the way in which an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

When the Duke of Wellington died, his horse carried a pair of his boots the reverse way around in the stirrups at the end of his funeral procession. The sight of these boots brought tears to the eyes of the thousands of mourners at his state funeral. The Duke became associated with his boots after he wrote to his boot maker from the Iberian Peninsula to request he made shorter boots without a tassel, which fitted under trousers, because the Duke tended to wear civilian dress while on campaign.

David Cannadine meets the present Duke of Wellington to explore how his ancestor's utilitarian boots quickly caught on with patriotic British gentlemen, eager to emulate their war hero. But Wellington's boots were turned against him during his premiership by his enemies, who characterised him as a military despot, complete with jackboots and spurs.

The Duke's eponymous footwear were revived again in the aftermath of the First World War, when Wellingtons reappeared in a new guise as our more familiar and much loved 'wellies' - no longer made of leather, but of rubber.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how the Duke of Wellington's boots came to define his leadership.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine returns with five more programmes examining the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power. From the Duke of Wellington's boot to Mrs Thatcher's handbag, he explores political fame and image through the way in which an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

When the Duke of Wellington died, his horse carried a pair of his boots the reverse way around in the stirrups at the end of his funeral procession. The sight of these boots brought tears to the eyes of the thousands of mourners at his state funeral. The Duke became associated with his boots after he wrote to his boot maker from the Iberian Peninsula to request he made shorter boots without a tassel, which fitted under trousers, because the Duke tended to wear civilian dress while on campaign.

David Cannadine meets the present Duke of Wellington to explore how his ancestor's utilitarian boots quickly caught on with patriotic British gentlemen, eager to emulate their war hero. But Wellington's boots were turned against him during his premiership by his enemies, who characterised him as a military despot, complete with jackboots and spurs.

The Duke's eponymous footwear were revived again in the aftermath of the First World War, when Wellingtons reappeared in a new guise as our more familiar and much loved 'wellies' - no longer made of leather, but of rubber.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how the Duke of Wellington's boots came to define his leadership.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine returns with five more programmes examining the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power. From the Duke of Wellington's boot to Mrs Thatcher's handbag, he explores political fame and image through the way in which an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

When the Duke of Wellington died, his horse carried a pair of his boots the reverse way around in the stirrups at the end of his funeral procession. The sight of these boots brought tears to the eyes of the thousands of mourners at his state funeral. The Duke became associated with his boots after he wrote to his boot maker from the Iberian Peninsula to request he made shorter boots without a tassel, which fitted under trousers, because the Duke tended to wear civilian dress while on campaign.

David Cannadine meets the present Duke of Wellington to explore how his ancestor's utilitarian boots quickly caught on with patriotic British gentlemen, eager to emulate their war hero. But Wellington's boots were turned against him during his premiership by his enemies, who characterised him as a military despot, complete with jackboots and spurs.

The Duke's eponymous footwear were revived again in the aftermath of the First World War, when Wellingtons reappeared in a new guise as our more familiar and much loved 'wellies' - no longer made of leather, but of rubber.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how the Duke of Wellington's boots came to define his leadership.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

Standing in a fireplace in his Temple of Peace at Hawarden Castle in Wales, is a selection of axes used by William Gladstone to chop down trees. David meets Charlie Gladstone, the current resident at Hawarden, to examine these axes and discuss the attraction of tree-felling for his ancestor, William. It was a vigorous physical activity that took his mind off everything else, especially public affairs.

Gladstone's axe was a prime minister's prop that also became a powerful political metaphor. Gladstone was often depicted by his supporters as swinging his axe to eliminate wrongdoing and error, literally root and branch. And the image of him retreating to Hawarden, working away with his axe, appealed to working people who, as one historian has commented, "found a great statesman and popular leader in the plain clothes of a labourer".

To his critics however, Gladstone's axe was an apt metaphor for his increasingly radical politics, which seemed to them to be violent and destructive. For Tory opponents, and for Queen Victoria, the contrast with William Gladstone's great political rival Benjamin Disraeli was striking. For while Gladstone chopped down trees on his country estate at Hawarden, Disraeli planted them at Hughenden Manor, his rural retreat in Buckinghamshire.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how William Gladstone's axe became a powerful political metaphor.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

Standing in a fireplace in his Temple of Peace at Hawarden Castle in Wales, is a selection of axes used by William Gladstone to chop down trees. David meets Charlie Gladstone, the current resident at Hawarden, to examine these axes and discuss the attraction of tree-felling for his ancestor, William. It was a vigorous physical activity that took his mind off everything else, especially public affairs.

Gladstone's axe was a prime minister's prop that also became a powerful political metaphor. Gladstone was often depicted by his supporters as swinging his axe to eliminate wrongdoing and error, literally root and branch. And the image of him retreating to Hawarden, working away with his axe, appealed to working people who, as one historian has commented, "found a great statesman and popular leader in the plain clothes of a labourer".

To his critics however, Gladstone's axe was an apt metaphor for his increasingly radical politics, which seemed to them to be violent and destructive. For Tory opponents, and for Queen Victoria, the contrast with William Gladstone's great political rival Benjamin Disraeli was striking. For while Gladstone chopped down trees on his country estate at Hawarden, Disraeli planted them at Hughenden Manor, his rural retreat in Buckinghamshire.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how William Gladstone's axe became a powerful political metaphor.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

Standing in a fireplace in his Temple of Peace at Hawarden Castle in Wales, is a selection of axes used by William Gladstone to chop down trees. David meets Charlie Gladstone, the current resident at Hawarden, to examine these axes and discuss the attraction of tree-felling for his ancestor, William. It was a vigorous physical activity that took his mind off everything else, especially public affairs.

Gladstone's axe was a prime minister's prop that also became a powerful political metaphor. Gladstone was often depicted by his supporters as swinging his axe to eliminate wrongdoing and error, literally root and branch. And the image of him retreating to Hawarden, working away with his axe, appealed to working people who, as one historian has commented, "found a great statesman and popular leader in the plain clothes of a labourer".

To his critics however, Gladstone's axe was an apt metaphor for his increasingly radical politics, which seemed to them to be violent and destructive. For Tory opponents, and for Queen Victoria, the contrast with William Gladstone's great political rival Benjamin Disraeli was striking. For while Gladstone chopped down trees on his country estate at Hawarden, Disraeli planted them at Hughenden Manor, his rural retreat in Buckinghamshire.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how William Gladstone's axe became a powerful political metaphor.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

It was during the Second World War that Winston Churchill adopted the cigar as his most indispensable prime ministerial prop and he rarely appeared in public without it. Clenched tightly between his jaws, his cigar signified defiance and determination, resolve and resolution.

Glowing brightly and accompanied by expansive gestures, it radiated confidence and hope. But the fact that Churchill liked cigars was a sign for Hitler that he was a weak man and a poor leader, and Nazi propaganda depicted Churchill and his cigar as decadent and self-indulgent.

David visits Chartwell, Churchill's Kent country home, to view his famous cigar cabinet, which now houses paints in his studio. He discusses the way in which Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his political image - so much so that, towards the end of his life, he gave out cigars as a calling card and his global fame meant they went for thousands at auction.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his image.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

It was during the Second World War that Winston Churchill adopted the cigar as his most indispensable prime ministerial prop and he rarely appeared in public without it. Clenched tightly between his jaws, his cigar signified defiance and determination, resolve and resolution.

Glowing brightly and accompanied by expansive gestures, it radiated confidence and hope. But the fact that Churchill liked cigars was a sign for Hitler that he was a weak man and a poor leader, and Nazi propaganda depicted Churchill and his cigar as decadent and self-indulgent.

David visits Chartwell, Churchill's Kent country home, to view his famous cigar cabinet, which now houses paints in his studio. He discusses the way in which Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his political image - so much so that, towards the end of his life, he gave out cigars as a calling card and his global fame meant they went for thousands at auction.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his image.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

David Cannadine examines the careers of British prime ministers through their props of power.

It was during the Second World War that Winston Churchill adopted the cigar as his most indispensable prime ministerial prop and he rarely appeared in public without it. Clenched tightly between his jaws, his cigar signified defiance and determination, resolve and resolution.

Glowing brightly and accompanied by expansive gestures, it radiated confidence and hope. But the fact that Churchill liked cigars was a sign for Hitler that he was a weak man and a poor leader, and Nazi propaganda depicted Churchill and his cigar as decadent and self-indulgent.

David visits Chartwell, Churchill's Kent country home, to view his famous cigar cabinet, which now houses paints in his studio. He discusses the way in which Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his political image - so much so that, towards the end of his life, he gave out cigars as a calling card and his global fame meant they went for thousands at auction.

Readings by Ewan Bailey and Will Huggins

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald
Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

A Blakeway production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how Churchill's cigar became synonymous with his image.

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

While he was campaigning for the 1945 election, Clement Attlee travelled around the country in his family car, driven by his beloved wife, Vi. Attlee's projected image was of a man who was both modest but also opposed to the ruling elite, spurning the grandeur of a chauffeur. It was both enlightened, modest, and very modern. His quiet message of reform was heard, and he subsequently delivered one of Labour's largest election victories. The Attlee's repeated their road trip during the 1950 election, travelling the length and breadth of the county to rally Labour support in their Hillman 14, a middle-class car owned by the sorts of voters Attlee was seeking to convince.

David visits Haynes Motor Museum near Yeovil to learn more about the Attlee family's motor cars and to explore how Clement Attlee's choice of cars showed he was a man of the people and quintessentially British built.

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

Readings by Will Huggins

A Zinc Audio production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Clement Atlee's motor car. Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

While he was campaigning for the 1945 election, Clement Attlee travelled around the country in his family car, driven by his beloved wife, Vi. Attlee's projected image was of a man who was both modest but also opposed to the ruling elite, spurning the grandeur of a chauffeur. It was both enlightened, modest, and very modern. His quiet message of reform was heard, and he subsequently delivered one of Labour's largest election victories. The Attlee's repeated their road trip during the 1950 election, travelling the length and breadth of the county to rally Labour support in their Hillman 14, a middle-class car owned by the sorts of voters Attlee was seeking to convince.

David visits Haines Motor Museum near Yeovil to learn more about the Attlee family's motor cars and to explore how Clement Attlee's choice of cars showed he was a man of the people and quintessentially British built.

Edward Heath took up sailing at the relatively late age of 50, and his mid-life career as a sailor developed with extraordinary speed - he bought his first yacht Morning Cloud in 1969 and won the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race later that year. He then captained Britain's winning team for the Admiral's Cup in 1971, while Prime Minister. It was a huge sporting achievement and the idea of yachting emphasised risk taking and competence. But Heath's passion for yachting also reflects something of the extraordinary isolation of his personality. The fact that Heath's third yacht was sunk in a storm and two crew members died in 1974, seemed a tragic metaphor for the demise of his political career.

David goes to Broadstairs Sailing Club to find out how it all started, and he visits Sir Edward's former home, Arundells, in Salisbury, to look at the bow section salvaged from the wreckage of Morning Cloud III, which has been put on display in the garden.

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

Readings by Will Huggins

A Zinc Audio production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Edward Heath's yacht. Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Edward Heath took up sailing at the relatively late age of 50, and his mid-life career as a sailor developed with extraordinary speed - he bought his first yacht Morning Cloud in 1969 and won the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race later that year. He then captained Britain's winning team for the Admiral's Cup in 1971, while Prime Minister. It was a huge sporting achievement and the idea of yachting emphasised risk taking and competence. But Heath's passion for yachting also reflects something of the extraordinary isolation of his personality. The fact that Heath's third yacht was sunk in a storm and two crew members died in 1974, seemed a tragic metaphor for the demise of his political career.

In the mid 1950s, both Harold Macmillan and Superman were on upward trajectories, albeit very different ones. Yet suddenly, and unexpectedly, towards the end of the decade, their careers intersected and overlapped. The person who brought them together was Victor Weisz, the cartoonist. He was a talented artist with left-leaning sympathies, whose cartoons appeared in British newspapers under the by-line of ‘Vicky'.

Vicky's heyday coincided with Harold Macmillan's rise and fall as a Prime Minister. And it was while at the Evening Standard that Vicky produced his most famous caricature of Macmillan, introducing ‘Supermac' to the world. It was an image Macmillan quickly appropriated to enhance his image, but once his popularity was on the wane, the Supermac image was finally turned against him in the way that Vicky had originally intended.

David visits the cartoon archive at the University of Kent, and he speaks to the cartoonist Steve Bell about how Vicky's caricatures have influenced his own take on a more recent Prime Minister, John Major.

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

Readings by Will Huggins

A Zinc Audio production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Harold Macmillan as Supermac. Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

In the mid 1950s, both Harold Macmillan and Superman were on upward trajectories, albeit very different ones. Yet suddenly, and unexpectedly, towards the end of the decade, their careers intersected and overlapped. The person who brought them together was Victor Weisz, the cartoonist. He was a talented artist with left-leaning sympathies, whose cartoons appeared in British newspapers under the by-line of ‘Vicky'.

Vicky's heyday coincided with Harold Macmillan's rise and fall as a Prime Minister. And it was while at the Evening Standard that Vicky produced his most famous caricature of Macmillan, introducing ‘Supermac' to the world. It was an image Macmillan quickly appropriated to enhance his image, but once his popularity was on the wane, the Supermac image was finally turned against him in the way that Vicky had originally intended.

David visits the cartoon archive at the University of Kent, and he speaks to the cartoonist Steve Bell about how Vicky's caricatures have influenced his own take on a more recent Prime Minister, John Major.

When David Lloyd George died in 1945, Winston Churchill did not stint in his praise, calling him, ‘the greatest Welshman which that unconquerable race has produced since the age of the Tudors'. But as is often the way with eulogies, it was far from being the whole truth. While Lloyd George steered Britain though the First World War, his later political record was often controversial. Lloyd George came of age during the Welsh national reawakening, so it was only a matter of time before the ‘Man Who Had Won the War' was hailed as ‘Welsh Wizard'. But by 1922, when Lloyd George had lost his magic touch, he seemed not so much a winning wizard as a corrupt trickster, and the ‘wizard' associations were turned against him.

David visits Lloyd George's family home in Llanystumdwy, North Wales and he speaks to historian Mike Benbough-Jackson about how Lloyd George expressed his Welshness, and deliberately cultivated his ‘wizardly' persona.

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

Readings by Will Huggins

A Zinc Audio production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Lloyd George, the Welsh Wizard. Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

When David Lloyd George died in 1945, Winston Churchill did not stint in his praise, calling him, ‘the greatest Welshman which that unconquerable race has produced since the age of the Tudors'. But as is often the way with eulogies, it was far from being the whole truth. While Lloyd George steered Britain though the First World War, his later political record was often controversial. Lloyd George came of age during the Welsh national reawakening, so it was only a matter of time before the ‘Man Who Had Won the War' was hailed as ‘Welsh Wizard'. But by 1922, when Lloyd George had lost his magic touch, he seemed not so much a winning wizard as a corrupt trickster, and the ‘wizard' associations were turned against him.

David visits Lloyd George's family home in Llanystumdwy, North Wales and he speaks to historian Mike Benbough-Jackson about how Lloyd George expressed his Welshness, and deliberately cultivated his ‘wizardly' persona.

It's claimed that, early in his life, Lord Rosebery said that he had three aims - to marry an heiress, to become Prime Minister, and to win the Derby. And whether he said it or not, Rosebery undeniably accomplished all these ambitions.

Rosebery achieved his second ambition when he served as Britain's Prime Minister from March 1894 to June 1895 and, at the same time, realising his third goal, as his horses won the Derby in both of those years. No other Prime Minister has rivalled such a success on the turf, but no other Prime Minister has allowed themselves to be so closely connected to such an elite sport. Ultimately, it didn't enhance Rosebery's public image.

David meets Harry Dalmeny, who is the current chair of Sotheby's and a direct descendant of Lord Rosebery's, to discuss his love of racing and he goes to Epsom downs to look at the graves of Lord Rosebery's beloved racehorses.

Series Producer: Melissa FitzGerald

Series Researcher: Martin Spychal

Readings by Will Huggins

A Zinc Audio production for BBC Radio 4

David Cannadine explores how an object or prop can come to define a political leader.

Professor Sir David Cannadine explores political fame and image by looking at how an object or prop can come to define a political leader. This time - Lord Rosebery's race horses.

Rosebery achieved his second ambition when he served as Britain's Prime Minister from March 1894 to June 1895 and, at the same time, realising his third goal, as his horses won the Derby in both of those years. No other Prime Minister has rivalled such a success on the turf, but no other Prime Minister has allowed themselves to be so closely connected to such an elite sport. Ultimately, it didn't enhance Rosebery's public image.

David meets Harry Dalmeny, who is the current chair of Sotheby's and a direct descendant of Lord Rosebery's, to discuss his love of racing and he goes to Epsom downs to look at the graves of Lord Rosebery's beloved racehorses.