His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

Lord Hope of Craighead Excerpts

Monday 12th April 2021 Lords Chamber

[Lord Hope of Craighead (CB) [V]]

My Lords, I first met His Royal Highness 57 years ago. He was chancellor of the University of Edinburgh. I was a student, eight and a half years after leaving school, close to completing my law degree and about to enter training for the legal profession. We were at a dinner being held to mark the 200th anniversary of a society of which I happened to be president, so I was placed beside him. There were many very distinguished people within easy reach, but, as I was on his right, he turned to speak to me first. He then engaged me in a sustained and intense conversation, without interruption, for at least 20 minutes. He asked me about myself, of course, and why it was taking me so long after school and national service to get qualified. He assured me that taking time to do that was no disadvantage and encouraged me to keep going. “It all depends on the chap,” he said. By then, he had put me so much at my ease that I asked him how he was able to sustain such a busy programme. “I try to put in as much as I can when I am away from home”, was his reply. The great hazard was his correspondence. “I dread Saturday mornings,” he said. When I expressed surprise at this, his response was, “I know. No one thinks a prince can write.”

He then turned the conversation to a subject of his choice, the teaching of engineering. He said that it was too academic. I suggested that perhaps it was not academic enough, only to find as we explored this topic further that, of course, he knew far more about the subject than I did. It became obvious that his enthusiasm for the practical side of engineering was genuine and very deep. We ended up by disagreeing only on what the word “academic” really meant. There was no sense of irritation or of his having become in the least bored with me, a mere student, when the time came for him to turn to his other side. That was where that part of our conversation ended, although there were some exchanges later. Before leaving the dinner, however, he remembered what we had been talking about earlier. He took the time to turn back to me, very kindly, and wish me well for the future.

What came over to me during those few privileged moments was a side of his character which so many people to whom he addressed a jest or just a chance word or two during visits or at receptions did not see. I saw it again many years later at a luncheon, from the other side of the table, when he engaged my wife in another sustained and intense conversation, this time about another subject close to his heart, competition carriage driving. He had that wonderful ability to sustain a conversation well beyond the usual pleasantries. He wanted to get to right to the heart of a subject, whatever it was, and to engage with his companions with a genuine interest, a disarming courtesy and a feisty, questioning open mind to reach out to what they really thought about it.

I like to think, as we lament his loss and send our heartfelt thoughts and prayers to Her Majesty and her family, that it was moments such as these that sustained him in his many rounds of visits away from home. It was that ability which enabled him to make such an immense contribution to the way people, near and far, thought about things that matter. For that gift, for it is a gift, we must all be very grateful. The noble Lord, Lord Forsyth, put it so well when he asked, in three simple words, “Weren’t we lucky?”