Tributes: Lord Mackay of Clashfern

My Lords, it is with a profound sense of sadness, shared across the House, that I pay tribute today to one of the truly monumental figures of our nation’s legal and parliamentary heritage. The news of the passing of the noble and learned Lord, Lord Mackay of Clashfern, shortly before his 100th birthday, is deeply felt by us all.

James Mackay was a man of towering intellect, yet he was defined equally by his quiet humility, his deep faith, an unwavering commitment to public service and great generosity of spirit. Born the son of a railway signalman in Edinburgh, his journey to the highest legal offices of state is a testament to his extraordinary talent, rising to become dean of the Faculty of Advocates before serving with distinction as Lord Advocate. His deep grounding in Scottish law brought a rigorous, analytical clarity to everything he did—a perspective that enriched the entire jurisprudence of the United Kingdom.

In 1987, Margaret Thatcher broke with centuries of tradition by appointing a Scottish lawyer as Lord Chancellor of Great Britain. For a decade, serving in both the Margaret Thatcher and John Major Governments, Lord Mackay occupied the Woolsack with a quiet, revolutionary authority. He was an historic, modernising Lord Chancellor. He shepherded the Children Act 1989 through this House and on to the statute book. It was a piece of legislation that radically reshaped family law, firmly establishing that a child’s welfare is the courts’ paramount consideration. That has stood the test of time.

Although Lord Mackay never sought conflict, he was never afraid of controversy, if he believed it served the public good. He introduced pioneering reforms to the legal profession that expanded access to justice for millions. Yet for all his grand achievements on the national stage, he retained that gentle humanity and his characteristic warmth and friendliness. Whether it was a word in passing in the corridors of your Lordships’ House or pulling up a chair for lunch in the Long Room, you would welcome his company. Like many others, I would listen in admiration, and often awe, when he spoke in the Chamber or in Committee. He would speak without notes, always making insightful and pertinent comments, perfectly crafted—and delightfully concise.

When Lord Mackay retired from this House in July 2022, after more than four decades of dedicated service, it said so much about his character that he did not use his final remarks to dwell solely on the great offices of state or the complex legislation he had championed. Instead, he drew our attention to the Prayers that begin our proceedings each day, stating:

“I believe that I have been sustained until now by answers to what we pray for at our opening every day”.—[Official Report, 20/7/22; col. 1984.]

That was the essence of James Mackay. He possessed a mind capable of mastering the most intricate complexities of constitutional law, with a heart that saw, valued and respected every individual who contributed to the life of Parliament.

My Lords, I thank the Lord Privy Seal for her warm tribute to our late beloved friend and colleague, Lord Mackay of Clashfern. When I say “our” beloved colleague, I mean all of us—all here who knew him and heard him for over 40 years as a Member of this House. I can think of few, if any, Peers who were so sincerely liked and admired on all sides as was James Mackay.

The noble Baroness set out some of his extraordinary achievements: dean of the Faculty of Advocates, Lord Advocate, a Scottish Law Lord, Lord of Appeal in Ordinary, Lord Chancellor for 10 years, a Knight of the Thistle and latterly honoured by his Queen as Lord Clerk Register of Scotland. Never were such a string of great garlands laid on the brow of a more humble man—not only humble in origin, though he was that, but a man of abiding humility, as our Leader said. Pomposity and pride were utterly alien to him, in the being or seeing of them.

The core of Lord Mackay’s life was the Bible and that higher power on which he long and regularly reflected. He observed the Lord’s day. When I was new in No. 10, I remember Switch explaining to me not only that you should not ring the Lord Chancellor on a Sunday but that you could not—the line would stay dead. His deep Christian faith moulded a bedrock of principle. As our Leader said, he never sought conflict, but he did not flinch from difficulties if the cause was just. As she said, as the first member of the Scottish Bar ever to sit on the Woolsack he set out to break restrictive practices in the law and open access to justice to more people. It did not make him popular, but he saw it through. Among his many legislative achievements were not only the Children Act, to which the noble Baroness rightly referred, but the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act, which brought clarity—like the Children Act—in difficult fields of morality and law.

My Lords, my noble friend Lord Purvis of Tweed really regrets that he cannot be here for these tributes, as he has been unavoidably detained in Scotland.

Much has been said already about Lord Mackay of Clashfern’s professional endeavours and immense achievements. A sense of him as a human being has also come through. He was universally admired, respected and held in deep affection, and I know from others that he was immensely kind to everyone in this place, no matter their experience. Sometimes it is those small gestures that are the most telling. My noble friend Lady Hamwee recounts such an incident when, as a fairly new Peer, she was sitting near the Throne, as we did then, and Lord Mackay was on the Woolsack. He noticed that she had a glass of water on the floor, vulnerable to passing feet, and he asked that the table he was using for his water be moved so that both could use it—a small gesture but an important one, especially to a new Member of this House.

We on these Benches salute Lord Mackay’s life and record our thanks for his long and very distinguished service to our country. We offer our condolences to his family and friends, and trust that the tributes paid provide them with some comfort.

My Lords, it is a great privilege to follow three such speeches. The cries of dismay that greeted the Lord Speaker’s sad news of the death of the noble and learned Lord, Lord Mackay of Clashfern, were as loud on our Benches as anywhere else in the House, having, as we do, so many of his friends and colleagues from the legal world, Whitehall, Scotland and the House in general. On his ennoblement in 1979, he chose as his motto “manu justi”: by the hand of a just man. We have heard much of the relevance of this choice so far, and I will return to it.

I want to reflect on Lord Mackay’s 15 years as Lord Clerk Register, the oldest remaining great office of state in Scotland. This was originally a post connected with Scotland’s records, and he was therefore one of the four commissioners of the regalia of Scotland. On behalf of the Crown, they were responsible for looking after, among other things, the Stone of Scone. The stone was originally taken from Scone Palace, which is by Perth, in 1296. In 1996, thanks to the efforts of the Lord Speaker, who was then Secretary of State for Scotland, it made it back as far as Edinburgh Castle.

Around the time of Covid, the commissioners of the regalia had to consider whether the stone would be moved from Edinburgh to Perth. I was the chairman of the relevant museum in Perth. The four commissioners consisted of three judges and Nicola Sturgeon, and they were in receipt of a tremendous amount of incredibly technical advice concerning security, conditions of light and humidity, historical context and so on—the fog of a difficult case. James stopped me one evening in the House and asked a simple question: how much would it cost to see the stone in Perth? I said it would be free. “It’s rather expensive in Edinburgh at the moment at £17”, he remarked. He had no other questions; he had cleared the fog and, shortly after, the commissioners, under his gentle and persuasive skills, reached their decision.

My Lords, from these Benches we echo the condolences and comments of the previous speakers. They have spoken so eloquently. Lord Mackay was kind, welcoming and generous in this House, and we on these Benches have been very grateful over the years for his gentle but persuasive advice and support.

A strict Sabbatarian and teetotaller in the best traditions of the Scottish Reformation, as we have heard, he would regularly refuse to work, travel or even give interviews that might be broadcast on a Sunday. He would regularly worship at the Free Presbyterian Church in Inverness, where he also served as an elder, and at All Souls Langham Place in my previous diocese of London.

Lord Mackay was a firm believer in moderation. At a gathering of the Faculty of Advocates, he had laid on a spread of tea and toast, complete with a tiny pot of honey. One of the lawyers in attendance contemplated the pot and remarked, “I see your Lordship keeps a bee”.

Lord Mackay was a great supporter of the Scottish Bible Society and was its honorary president until his death, championing the Bible and the role it played in forming our laws, behaviours and society. He even went as far as publishing a booklet which he distributed to Scottish lawyers, describing the Bible as the foundational sourcebook for the Scottish legal system. His legal mind was second to none, and he demonstrated a deep respect for the distinct traditions of Scottish and English law and the constitution.

Amen.

My Lords, I would like to add a few words about the truly remarkable way that Lord Mackay performed his duties to the House and the stamina that he exhibited.

Three things were different in Lord Mackay’s day. First, when you looked to the Woolsack, you would see him in his day dress of the full-bottomed wig, the stockings and buckled shoes which he wore every day.

Our timings were different. It was quite usual for the House to sit after 11 pm—indeed, it was not unusual to sit after midnight. I am recorded in Hansard speaking on the Scotland Bill at 2.30 am, but Lord Mackay was always there. He regarded it as his duty to remain on the Woolsack whenever the House sat and for how long it sat.

There was no team of Deputy Chairmen in his day. I think there was one person who could take Lord Mackay’s place when it was necessary, but that team did not exist. The rota of leaving the Woolsack from time to time was not there. I remember one day he sat there for eight hours in an important debate with only 20 minutes’ difference. The stamina he exhibited was quite extraordinary. I never heard him complain. It was his sense of duty that kept him going, and it was a truly remarkable performance.

There were three turns of events in Lord Mackay’s life which made all the difference. First, shortly before he was approached to be Lord Advocate, he had been offered and had accepted the position as a judge in Scotland. The Labour Lord Advocate who gave him that offer began to realise that Labour was going to lose the election, as indeed it did. He said to James, “I’m sorry, I’ve changed my mind”, and all the excitement of the offer of a place on the Bench disappeared overnight and James was very much taken aback. However, because he was not a judge and had not accepted that offer, he was available when Mrs Thatcher approached him and said, “Dean of Faculty, I need your help”, because the other candidate for Lord Advocate was not suitable. It was his five years as Lord Advocate that really cemented his relationship with Mrs Thatcher, which led ultimately to his appointment when Lord Havers fell ill, sadly, as Lord Chancellor. These were three events that all turned out in James’s favour. He was fortunate but, indeed, we were so fortunate too.

My Lords, I vividly remember another very hot summer day during the Brexit wars, when the relationship between the Government and the press had broken down. There was no trust and we were struggling with the intricacy of the Northern Ireland protocol. We needed a lawyer who could help.

I was tasked with ringing Lord Mackay, who was a towering figure for all lawyers younger than himself; he really brought us on and mentored us in our profession. I rang him; I swallowed my pride and I explained the issue, which, of course he grasped, in under three seconds. Three minutes later, I saw him trotting out to College Green, where he was able not only to give live press interviews and put the matter to rest, but he spent the next couple of hours in baking sunlight explaining behind the scenes to members of the press how the law worked and what the answer was. We were fortunate to have him in our House for so long.

My Lords, perhaps I might add a few words of my own. As has been said, Lord Mackay of Clashfern brought to public life a wonderful combination of brilliance, courtesy, principle and faith. He was formidable, but never vain. He was learned, but never showy. He was firm in judgment but always humane. He was a proud Scot and a good friend to me.

Robert Burns’s lines, written in 1784, “Epitaph on my own Friend”, uncannily capture why all of us who knew him will miss James so much:

The friend of man, the friend of truth;

The friend of age, and guide of youth:

Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,

Few heads with knowledge so inform’d:

If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;

If there is none, he made the best of this.

Our thoughts today are with Bett, who, throughout some 68 years of marriage, was his formidable rock and guide. God bless her and her family at this time.

Hear, hear!