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AT a City lunch, Nat Rothschild sat quietly, waiting for others to speak. Given by one of the major private equity groups, it was a high-powered gathering. Among the guests were Marcus Agius, chairman of Barclays, Sir David Arculus, director of O2 and chairman of the Better Regulation Task Force and Ian Davis, managing partner of McKinsey.
The private equity house wanted to know why its guests thought its industry had such a poor reputation. Eventually, Rothschild spoke. In a quiet voice, he recounted in withering tones his own dealings with private equity operators in takeover battles.
What those present took away was the steel of Rothschild. As his much older, better known and distinguished companions had rabbited away, he'd been thinking about exactly what he was going to say. His forceful intervention was far stronger than the rest.
Suddenly, it was clear how he'd amassed a vast fortune while still in his thirties. It was also apparent he'd inherited his father's stubborn, fearless streak. Lord Rothschild, does not suffer fools. Nat is the same. He's grown up in a dynasty where even young people, speak their minds, argument is encouraged and dinner parties can descend into furious, heated debate. They don't need to worry what others might think. They're not dependent upon anyone.
What they do have is a ferocious sense of honour. Their loyalty is to their own, tight circle. Worse than the outsider trying to get in is an insider who betrays them.
That is how Nat sees George Osborne's behaviour. They were friends, not quite the bosom pals portrayed elsewhere. Rothschild put the shadow chancellor and his family up at his villa in Corfu. Osborne repaid him, as Rothschild sees it, by revealing what another friend, Peter Mandelson, had said about the Prime Minister.
This led to Tory-inspired questions about Mandelson's friendship with Oleg Deripaska, Russia's richest man and also close to Rothschild. Osborne was also in receipt of Deripaska's generosity, he'd been on his yacht off Corfu. This, say those close to Rothschild, was too much. Nat was fed up that his holiday had become embroiled in political point-scoring.
He wrote to The Times, intending the letter as "a slap on the wrist" to Osborne for breaking the social code of silence. He did not see it as a termination of their friendship. The Rothschilds have a high regard for Osborne and the family has funded his Westminster office in the past. There is talk they may do so again, say those close to Nat, even after all this is over.
Rothschild was taken aback, it seems, when his letter dominated the news. But that was as much, say insiders, down to Osborne's reaction. Instead of regretting being involved in a conversation about Deripaska donating to the Tories, he tried to wriggle out of it.
In Rothschild's eyes, Osborne was making him out to be a liar. James Goodwin, an American businessman also in Corfu, has been produced as a witness. There is another person who will also vouch for what was discussed. And there is Deripaska himself.
Rothschild does not want the story to run and run. But if Osborne continues to lash out, he fears he will have no choice. Osborne should know one thing - after all, he's been at their table often enough - you cross a Rothschild at your peril.
Reader views (2)
Looks like Midsummer Murders got it right in the episode about "The Pudding Club" where former members of a public school started to become victims for Chief Inspector Barnaby, George better check any invites he get to dinner?
Perhaps Labour should use this photo on posters at the election with the phrase "Do you really think these people know how you manage to survive?"
- Melvyn Windebank, Canvey Island, Essex.
Nat Rothschild re-wrote his letter to the Times three times, each time changing his version of events- It is obvious that Nat Rothschild is the one who has not been truthful presumably wanting to suck up to his Ruissian billionaire pal. sincerely Anya Madigan
- Anya Madigan, Killaloe, Ireland
