The Leader of the House of Commons (Penny Mordaunt)
I rise on behalf of His Majesty’s Government to pay tribute to a remarkable figure. I know how many will be affected by this sad news of her passing and I know that the whole House will want to send their thoughts and prayers to her dearest. I was two months old when Betty was elected to this place on her fifth attempt. By my reckoning, fewer than 30 of our current right hon. and hon. Members were contemporaries of hers—I can see many of them in the Chamber today—yet we all knew her. We knew her before we arrived here. We knew her before she wrote to us, talked to us, encouraged us and made us laugh.
There are few political figures who get cut-through with the public, but she was one of them. It was not just her features or her fantastic voice that were recognised; we all knew what she stood for. Hers was a character that was forceful enough to transcend time, Parliaments, partisanship and generations. It was who she was and what she did; her trailblazing legacy not just as the first woman Speaker, but the first from the Opposition Benches. She was of a generation who took ground for women’s progress. She had been inspired by vinegar and gunpowder. She was a moderniser—she demystified. Her 50-year parliamentary career and all she did for national life, in particular for women, inspired and paved the way for future generations, but also she commemorated and got credit for those who had gone before her. She felt keenly that the privileges of this House were dearly won in toil and sacrifice, and the monument to the women of the second world war stands in great part because of her.
But it was not just her considerable achievements that made her recognisable; there was something more. It was how she made us feel. Like the Pennines from which she hailed, she gave our nation backbone. She gave us courage, because she reminded us that we were no cowards. Her warmth, entertainment and no-nonsense approach helped to restore trust. She made this place accessible, and she commanded us with the salty glamour of a pub landlady: “Time’s up!” Her gritty pragmatism sat comfortably alongside her optimism and hope and a deep faith in future generations.
She gave us confidence and pride in this place, and that was no accident. She wanted to give all a chance because she had cherished every chance that she had been given. For me, that care was evident in a particular letter she wrote to me after I had proposed the Loyal Address in 2014, and I was so grateful for it. She concluded that she wanted me to “flourish”—not just to be successful or to do well or to get on, but to flourish, to excel, to be all I could be, to have a ruddy good time doing it and to understand what my purpose was. She knew her purpose: “I speak to serve”, she said, and she served us well. May she rest in peace, and may these tributes to her remind us all of the responsibility and the opportunity it is our privilege to have. Thank you, Betty.
