Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Debate between Earl of Devon and Lord Dobbs

Friday 9th September 2022 Lords Chamber

[Lord Dobbs (Con)]

My Lords, it is truly humbling to take part in this debate after so many eloquent speeches from those who have known Her late Majesty so well, but I want to pay my own short tribute to a woman who has influenced so much of my life.

I suppose my most solid connection with Her late Majesty is the fact that I was born in the very same hour as her eldest son, our new King. I do not remember the occasion particularly well, but the birth certificate bears this out. As a young boy, I remember looking at the back of my pale hand and seeing these very blue veins and wondering just a little bit, “What if?” Fortunately, you and I have been spared.

Our late Queen came to us as a shy young woman and left us as the greatest of Queens, to stand alongside—perhaps even a step above—Victoria and the first Elizabeth. She was a Queen; a monarch; a woman; a wife who loved but one man ever, and who herself was loved by millions. She led us on the extraordinary and historic journey from an ageing and ailing empire to the enduring friendships of the Commonwealth, about which we have heard so much.

She was a woman who placed duty first, second and third, and who began it all again every single morning. That sense of duty and dignity, that unflappability, personal courage and wisdom, that love of Marmite sandwiches and, oh, that smile, and even shouts of joy—yes, she loved her horses, and winning. She was no pale functionary. She was an example of selfless leadership and we could have done no better; she was an example to us all. She was a golden thread that ran through the tapestries of our lives and the sinews that bind this nation together. They were bonds not of fear—that is the prerogative of leaders in some other countries—but of affection and of devotion; bonds which had tens of thousands of us pouring towards Buckingham Palace, not waving machine guns and severed heads but waving banners and shouting not chants of revolution but songs of joy. We were waving banners that told her how devoted to her we were and how much we loved her. That little word, “love”, keeps cropping up in our discussions about Elizabeth. How we rejoiced at her many jubilees. What fun we had, as other nations marvelled and quietly envied the very British secret that was Elizabeth.

Now the torch passes to another generation, whose sorrows today we share. We send our commiserations to our new King, His Majesty King Charles III, his Queen Consort, Camilla, and the entire family. We thank them for sharing with us the long, long life of such an extraordinary lady. We will bury her not only with sadness but with unquenchable pride and endless gratitude. Thank you, Ma’am.

The Queen is dead. Long live the King.

[The Earl of Devon (CB)]

My Lords, I salute Her glorious and beloved Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. Given her age and recent frailty, we have all, I am sure, imagined this day, but in its awesome realisation, I think we find it almost unimaginable and wholly surreal. We are, as a nation, bereft, with tears flowing unexpectedly and a peculiar ache of loss.

Her Majesty reigned for so long that this time feels unprecedented to us all, but of course it is not. I speak not to offer personal anecdotes—like the noble Baroness, Lady Smith, I never met her personally—and we have heard so many warm and wonderful reminiscences. Rather, I offer the House context in my role as the Earl of Devon, a title that has a particular affinity with our female monarchs.

The title was created by our first, and often forgotten, female monarch, Matilda. She was granddaughter of William I, whose reign was cruelly usurped on the death of her father, Henry I. The first Baron to raise his standard in her support was Baldwin, at Exeter Castle. For his unwavering support of the right of a woman to reign, he was created Earl of Devon in 1142.

Our second and unfairly maligned female monarch was Queen Mary. The Earl of Devon, her cousin, protested her parents’ divorce and the young princess’s own unjust disinheritance. As a result, he was attained and beheaded by Henry VIII for his devotion to female monarchy. The Earl’s young son grew up a prisoner in the Tower of London until Mary’s eventual succession, at which point he was released, recreated Earl of Devon, and carried the sword of state at her Coronation.

It is that title that I bear and, although the principles of inherited duty may be contentious outside the Royal Family, I am proud to speak on behalf of a family that served Matilda, Mary and each of our subsequent female monarchs, thankfully without a beheading for some centuries. It has been an enormous privilege to add my little part to that tradition of service to female rule.