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Sense of the House. Postwar Oxford in the early '20s found mustachioed Captain Eden a serious young man, diffident and withdrawn. "He was one of the quiet ones," a college servant recalls. Eden collected modern paintings, walked off with first class honors in Persian and Arabic. On one occasion during World War II, he startled a regiment of Turkish regulars by addressing them in their own vernacular.
From Oxford, Eden soon moved to the "safe" Tory seat of Warwick and Leamington. He won it handily and has held it ever since, making his campaign headquarters in famed old Warwick Castle. The dignity, dullness and mastery of the commonplace that Britons expect of their M.P.s came to him naturally; soon he was possessed of that mysterious but vital quality which M.P.s call "a sense of the House."
A Matter of Principle. Eden's good looks, quick mind and influential connections came to the attention of Stanley Baldwin. Promoted to Foreign Secretary at the age of 38 (the youngest man to hold the office for almost a century), Eden made the picture pages as the Homburg-hatted glamor boy. As Europe tilted towards war, his earnestness won him a title that was half-admiring, half-contemptuous: "This formidable young man who loves peace so terribly." Then one February day in 1938, Eden told Neville Chamberlain: "There has been too keen a desire on our part to make terms with others rather than that others should make terms with us . . . I do not believe . . . in appeasement."
Eden's resignation made him the hero of the hour (though others since have unkindly said he had almost to be pushed into resigning). But he did not follow through: he was too loyal and too well-mannered to challenge his chief publicly, as Chamberlain pushed on to the folly of Munich. Eden kept his objections to himself, while the Nazis and Fascists gloated over the political passing of "Lord Eyelashes." But Churchill at least understood and mourned the lost opportunity. "There seemed one strong young figure standing up against long, dismal, drawling tides of drift and surrender . . . Now he was gone. I watched the daylight creep slowly in through the windows, and saw before me in mental gaze the vision of Death."
The Alter Ego. The vision came to pass, and Churchill, proven right, was the man to grapple with it. He sent for Anthony Eden, and during World War II there grew up a phenomenon unique in English political life: the Churchill-Eden partnership. Back at the Foreign Office, Eden was the P.M.'s friend, his faithful alter ego ("We thought alike even without consultation," wrote Churchill gratefully). He designated "dear Anthony" as his heir apparent, and together they weathered the Tories' postwar exile from the government bench. Eden's chief role was to act as mediator between the Old Tories and the impetuous young Turks who were coming to the fore. He was always a better party man than Churchill.