His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

Lord Judge Excerpts

Monday 12th April 2021 Lords Chamber

[Lord Judge (CB)]

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.

Many years after they left Malta, Her Majesty the Queen came to open a court at Leamington Spa accompanied by His Royal Highness, who was well into his 90s. From my point of view the symbolism was crucial: this demonstrates that the judiciary is the Queen’s judiciary; it is not the Prime Minister’s or Parliament’s, it is hers. The principle was underlined at the ceremony. Then, of course, we had a visit around the building on a very carefully set route that was all organised. I was with His Royal Highness. Noble Lords will be interested to know that we did not adhere to the planned route: we changed direction and went round one corner, I am sure deliberately, just a little too early. Our route took us past a number of closed doors. Every time we passed a closed door, he said to the person next to it, “What goes on in there? Where does that lead?”, or something to that effect. Somebody would give the explanation and he would immediately say, “Open it.” We opened a number of doors that were not supposed to have been opened. When he thought the job inside had been done well, he said, “Good.” When he did not, he did not. It was one short simple word, but quite good enough to convey far more than gushy, flowery compliments that that was well done. As the noble Lord, Lord Newby, reflected, around the country many people will have been the recipients of a “Good”. It will be part of the family tradition, part of the lore. They will talk about it this weekend.

Without repeating the respect that has been referred to, the admiration and the growing and sustained intensifying affection for His Royal Highness and Her Majesty, I, on behalf of the Cross Benches, offer our condolences to her and to the Royal Family, and our understanding and sympathy that, for all the roles they play in this world, the absence of this one man—just one man—will, in their crowded, busy lives, leave them in a vast desert.