His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

Motion for an Humble Address

Moved by

To move that a Humble Address be presented to Her Majesty as follows—

“Most Gracious Sovereign,

We, Your Majesty’s most dutiful and loyal subjects, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled, beg leave to convey to Your Majesty the heartfelt sympathy of this House on the death of His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.

Prince Philip gave selfless public service to the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth for over seventy years. He will be remembered for His distinguished Naval service in the Second World War and, following marriage to Your Majesty, for His energy and commitment across so many areas of national life, including conservation, science and technology, design, sport and Your Armed Forces. His major achievement in creating the Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme has transformed the lives of millions of young people around the world. Above all His role at the side of Your Majesty, supporting Your life of service as our Sovereign and encouraging the work of Your family, has been a steadfast presence for us all.

We assure Your Majesty that His memory will be held dear by those who knew Him and honoured in the history of our country. Our prayers join with those of the entire nation for His Royal Highness, and for Your Majesty and all the Royal Family at this sad time of loss and sorrow.”

My Lords, it is right that we come together today, in person and virtually, to pay tribute to His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. Our thoughts are first and foremost with Her Majesty the Queen, who has lost the person whom she described as her “strength and stay”. The humble Address rightly conveys the heartfelt sympathy of this House and assures Her Majesty and all the Royal Family of our prayers. Together with them, we mourn.

The nation and the whole Commonwealth has lost one of its greatest figures, but let us also remember that he was a Member of this House. He was introduced on 21 July 1948, just before Earl Mountbatten of Burma—someone who was supremely formative in his early life. Although he never spoke in this House, he attended countless times alongside Her Majesty the Queen for the State Opening of Parliament. The images of them walking through the Royal Gallery and seated on the Thrones behind me are some of the most iconic of our age.

Looking beyond the splendour and pageantry, however, it is an image that goes to the heart of their relationship. It speaks of patience, constancy and fidelity. The visible presence of Prince Philip alongside Her Majesty the Queen for over seven decades provides a glimpse into the unique role he played in private, supporting Her Majesty and serving the Crown humbly and selflessly. Today, we give thanks for the sacrifices he made and for the immeasurable good that he did. His legacy will live on, as will our sincere gratitude.

I now call on the Lord Privy Seal to move the Motion for the humble Address.

My Lords, we are here today to remember and pay tribute to the life of His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, as we mourn the loss of the “strength and stay” to Her Majesty, our country and the Commonwealth. However, we also gather to commemorate and celebrate Prince Philip’s extraordinary life, distinguished by decades of dutiful, loyal and selfless service.

He was the embodiment of public service in the truest sense. On his retirement, at the age of 96, Buckingham Palace revealed that he had undertaken 22,191 solo engagements, made 635 overseas visits on his own account, delivered 5,493 speeches and authored 14 books. He was colonel-in-chief of eight regiments and was patron, president or otherwise associated with 992 different organisations. He served honourably and with distinction in the Second World War, being mentioned in dispatches for his service aboard HMS “Valiant” during the Battle of Cape Matapan. This was only the beginning of a promising naval career. He later took command of his own ship, HMS “Magpie”, and it is widely considered that he would have reached the very highest ranks of the Navy had he continued his full-time service. In almost a century, he lived through the invention of the jet engine, man setting foot on the moon and the creation of the internet.

After Her Majesty acceded to the throne, Prince Philip’s devoted service spanned the terms of 14 British Prime Ministers—Sir Winston Churchill being the first—as well as countless leaders across the Commonwealth and beyond. Within the Commonwealth in particular, Prince Philip was highly respected and held in deep affection. He understood long before others how the modern Commonwealth network was and is, in Her Majesty’s own words,

“in many ways the face of the future”.

Prince Philip was a modern man, a trailblazer ahead of his time, from becoming one of the youngest first lieutenants in the Royal Navy to being appointed the first president of the World Wildlife Fund UK. He was passionate about engineering and industry, a pioneer of the sport of carriage driving and a champion of environmental causes long before they became mainstream. I was one of the millions of young people who benefited from the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award scheme, completing the bronze, silver and gold awards while at school. It was the DofE, as it is known in families across the country, that first taught me the importance of public service. For my community service, I volunteered in a mental health centre and in a care home—experiences that I remember to this day and which helped shape the person I am. This remarkable scheme now inspires and empowers young people in over 140 countries across the world and will remain a fitting and lasting legacy.

My Lords, when a life spans almost a century, each generation will have a different perception and different memories of that person. Since the announcement of the death of His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh and the press coverage of his extraordinary life, so many have said, in some admiration, “I didn’t know that”. For a man who lived most his life in the full glare of public interest and attention, that is unusual. It illustrates not just the longevity of his life or his position, but his interests, contribution and personality, and the range and depth of his public service.

Across the world, he is of course best known for being the person Her Majesty the Queen described as “my strength and stay”. That statement, in its simplicity, captures the essence and significance of his role as her consort. For anyone in public life, but especially in the role and for the work expected of Her Majesty, the need for someone whom you can trust, love, admire and rely on without reservation is essential.

Over the past few days, it has been very clear that the nation, and, indeed, the world, has nothing but respect, admiration and affection for his unfailing support and unstinting loyalty to Her Majesty the Queen. It is a role for which there is no blueprint, but the integrity, honesty and character of His Royal Highness made it a role for which he has now perhaps written that blueprint. But to see the Duke’s life through only that lens is not enough.

Many, after reading about his life for the first time, will not have known of his unconventional start in life or the challenges and complexities of his family. They may not have been aware of his impressive naval career, which he would have expected to continue, had he not fallen in love with the young Princess Elizabeth. Theirs was not an 18th-century arranged marriage to cement political alliances but a genuine love that endured. And perhaps—because each generation thinks it is the first to discover innovation and modernisation—some would not have been aware of how progressive he was in so many areas. When we are young, we seek to force the pace of change and, as we get older, we get more irritable at those behind us, pushing to go faster and further. Those reading about the young Prince Philip for the first time would not have been aware of his fascination and enthusiasm for, and knowledge of, science and technology.

My Lords, trying to sum up the life of Prince Philip and his contribution to our national life in a few minutes is quite a challenge. But a good place to start is Prince Philip’s own views on the matter. When asked to sum up his contribution to public life, he responded with typical frankness:

“I've just done what I think is my best. Some people think it's all right. Some don't. What can you do? I can't change my way of doing things. It's part of my style. It's just too bad, they'll have to lump it.”

For Prince Philip, doing one’s best had several distinct components. He obviously did his best as a loyal, steadfast, and supportive consort to his wife. Given his early naval career, to fulfil the role of Queen’s consort clearly required a major gear change. That cannot have been easy, yet he did it with great devotion and aplomb. When people look back on this Elizabethan age, they will see how much it was sustained by the extremely close partnership between Prince Philip and the Queen.

But while fulfilling the role of consort with great dedication, he took a leaf out of Prince Albert’s book and devoted a huge amount of energy to a wide range of causes and positions which sought to improve the lives of people and protect our planet. The work he did over many years with WWF was ground-breaking and his views about the interconnectedness of all species and the responsibility which we have to protect them, although commonplace now, were widely pooh-poohed at the time.

As we have heard, his sponsorship of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award scheme was even more significant; it has touched and transformed the lives of millions of young people across the country and the world. For me, without the scheme I would not know how to do a fireman’s lift, would never have struggled to put up a tent on the Yorkshire Moors in a howling gale, would never have tried to coax a reluctant Primus stove into life. Some of these skills have proved more useful in later life than others but, as with everyone else who has participated in the scheme—sadly, in my case, only to bronze level—it gave me a broadening of horizons, a greater sense of self-reliance and a greater awareness of the natural world. For me, the scheme was a useful complement to adolescence but, for many more, it was a life changer and even a lifesaver. Of course, Prince Philip had a formal connection with literally hundreds of charities and other bodies, all of which have expressed their gratitude to the contribution he made to their work.

My Lords, it is a great but melancholy privilege to speak on behalf of the Cross Benches. I do so in wholehearted support of the Motion and in complete agreement with the three speeches that have already been made. We are indeed reflecting on a shared sense of national loss that has followed the death of a man who made a remarkable and indeed unique—it is very occasionally that you can use that word correctly—contribution to national life and universal sympathy for the personal loss of Her Majesty the Queen and the Royal Family. In truth, there is nothing much more for me to add—it has all been said—but there are some occasions when, and some people for whom, sustained repetition is amply justified. It is so in this case.

I am going to begin in Malta in August 1942. I was a small baby there. Against overwhelming enemy attacks, the shattered remains of the Pedestal convoy entered Grand Harbour. In Malta they still celebrate that occasion: the Santa Marija convoy. The very last conversation I had with my Maltese grandmother happened to be on that anniversary. She was entirely lucid well into her 90s. She spoke about starvation and that convoy, and with some force reminded me so simply, “A lot of brave men died for us.” His Royal Highness was not serving on that particular convoy, but he was at sea fighting in the Mediterranean, along with vast numbers of brave men who had already died or who would, in my grandmother’s simple words, die for us.

Today, of course, very few of those who fought and survived the war are still with us, and those who did are very old. Any tribute to those who risked death and mutilation should reflect just a little deeply that they were not the old men and women they are now; they were young men and women in the prime of their lives, in the flower and promise of youth, when there was all to lose and there should have been much more to come. My grandchildren are that age. Those of us in the Chamber and in the House have children and grandchildren of that age.

Noble Lords will forgive me if I remain briefly in Malta. As a small boy I saw a black-and white-photograph—there was no television, no colour, no photographs beyond that; there was still food rationing—of the wedding of the radiant Princess and her young, handsome naval officer. At least, that is what my mother said, and she should have known. We then learned that the young couple were going to live in Malta. My memory is that the delight was almost palpable. My certain knowledge now is that their time together in Malta continues to be a source of national pride. Everyone in Malta knew they were there. Everyone knew where they lived. Most people still know where they lived: a pleasant non-palatial house in a small village outside Valletta called Gwardamanġa. There were no paparazzi, intrusive photography or plaguing interference; they were just allowed to get on with their lives and were left alone. They were, of course, not quite any young couple, but nevertheless they had the responsibilities of a young couple, not the immense burdens, responsibilities and unending duties of state, Empire and Commonwealth for which the call came sadly early and to which, as others have already said, they both gave a dedicate response. As we reflect on that response, we should be rather humbled by it and left a little breathless at their joint achievement. It is rather a chilling thought that I offer that the fulfilment of their duties to us has meant that, in truth, since 1952 they have never really been left alone.

My Lords, it is a privilege to follow four such eloquent speeches from the Front Benches, and it is with great sadness and much sympathy that I convey from these Benches the condolences of the Lords spiritual especially to Her Majesty the Queen, but also to all her family on the death of His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh. In thousands of churches and homes around the nation and the world yesterday, as on every Sunday, prayers were said for the Queen. This weekend we have also thanked God for Prince Philip’s life of extraordinary service. There are some rare people who bring energy into a room. As we have already heard, the Duke of Edinburgh was very much one of those people. His presence lifted a gathering. He might have challenged and interrogated, but whatever he said he never bored anyone.

As was mentioned on Radio 4 this morning, one of the rites of passage for diocesan bishops newly in post has been to preach at Sandringham in January. One arrives on the Saturday evening. There is often a barbecue—yes, I do mean in north Norfolk in January—at which the Duke of Edinburgh cooks superbly. I still remember the food. On the Sunday morning the bishop preaches. Let me be very honest: I often cannot remember my own sermons. Prince Philip listened intently, thought deeply and, over lunch, interrogated knowingly. His reading theologically was wide, his memory retentive, his analysis perceptive. Few bishops failed to leave with greater thoughtfulness and few failed to admire. We quite often had to answer questions about what a bishop had said in a sermon two or three weeks earlier with which he disagreed. He was effectively polling the Bench.

The Duke of Edinburgh had a profound moral imagination, extraordinary foresight and even vision. He saw the world not just as it is but as it could and should be, as worked out in his commitment to young people, especially through the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award, to the Commonwealth, to our Armed Forces, and to engineering, technology and design, where he played a formative and important part, as well as to conservation and the environment. In Edmund Burke’s words, he had an instinctive sense that the social contract was found in the traditions we inherit from the past, in our obligations to the present and in our responsibility to those yet to be born.

His genuine and deep sense of humility and his service came from the same place, which was his faith. That was also discussed this morning. He had a sincere Christian faith absolutely untainted by false piety, of which he was very intolerant, whoever showed it—quite rightly. It was formed and developed by wrestling with great issues, and refined by meeting such an extraordinary variety of people around the Commonwealth and the world and learning about their lives. He understood deeply how important faith is for the vast majority of the world’s population. He engaged the rich diversity of faiths within the UK and the Commonwealth. He was a pioneer in recognising the crucial role that faith leaders play in advocating for creation care. He was literally half a century ahead of his time in this area. His commitment to the present and future good of this nation and of the Commonwealth was reflected in technology and engineering as an expression, for him, of our God-given intelligence and responsibility.

My Lords, others have spoken and will speak about the huge range of interests and skills that the Duke of Edinburgh possessed. As Master of the Horse, I will focus on his contribution to equestrianism and equestrian sports. His Royal Highness was, from an early age, a keen sportsman, playing cricket and hockey with great dexterity and, in the late 1940s, he began an active polo career. He quickly became a remarkable player, twice leading his team to victory in the gold cup for the British open and founding the Guards Polo Club at Windsor. Prince Philip reached a handicap of five, taking the sport much more seriously than most amateur players.

By the time that he retired from active polo in 1971, he had developed a love for carriage driving, taking it up competitively in the 1970s. After his second competition, the European championships, held at Windsor, he recalled:

“I came in not quite last, but very nearly.”

Ultimately, he represented Great Britain in six world and three European championships, in a career that spanned more than 10 years, becoming a world-class carriage driver and winning team gold in the 1980 world championship.

Prince Philip became president of the International Federation for Equestrian Sports—known by its French abbreviation, the FEI—in 1964, and served until 1986. A true leader, he recognised that more could be done to bring order to elite competition. Deeply involved, thanks to his true love for horses, His Royal Highness channelled his passion into driving standards up across a broad range of equestrian sports, writing the rules for international carriage-driving competitions and introducing new disciplines.

While, in the equestrian world, his name is most closely associated with carriage driving and polo, he instigated the FEI Jumping Nations Cup series—now a major part of the elite athletes calendar—during his tenure as president of the FEI, and he actively encouraged the launch of the FEI Jumping World Cup. He was also instrumental in the creation of the FEI World Equestrian Games.

My Lords, speakers this afternoon have been, and will be, covering the involvement of Admiral of the Fleet, His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, in myriad organisations, institutions and good causes. I will cover just one, the Royal Navy, a service to which he was palpably devoted from when he joined, as an 18 year-old, and through the rest of his life. His distinguished war record and subsequent command of a warship, the frigate HMS “Magpie”, gave him the absolute credibility to speak with knowledge, experience and ease to sailors and marines of whatever rank. Incidentally, he was inordinately proud of his role as Commandant General Royal Marines.

His famous curiosity, interest and genuine wish to find out from whomever he spoke to what they were up to, whatever their status or specialisation—engineer, logistician, operator or whatever—meant that he captured the absolute attention of all with whom he engaged, and he invariably won their utmost respect and admiration. The experience of meeting him would leave people more often than not feeling stimulated, always better informed and occasionally storm-torn, but always encouraged and refreshingly clear on His Royal Highness’s view. His high sense of duty and loyalty to the White Ensign could not have been clearer. He epitomised the ideals and ethos of the service, setting a lifelong example to which we can all aspire but which very few would genuinely match. In all, he was an inspiration to everyone in the Royal Navy during his long life.

I can hear his voice in my ear saying, “That’s quite enough, Boyce”, so I finish by saying that he will be greatly missed by the service.