excerpts
On his childhood, WWII and DOE Award Scheme
‘I don’t try to psychoanalyse myself,’ he protests in answer to probings about the difficulties of his childhood, when his family escaped from Greece in 1922 (narrowly avoiding an Ottoman firing squad in the Greco-Turkish War), his exiled royal parents separated and, aged ten, he was abandoned to relatives in various parts of Europe. Where was home? ‘Wherever I happened to be,’ he says, ‘It was no great deal. I just lived my life.’ The Duke’s biographer, Gyles Brandreth, however, is convinced he’s covering up. ‘As a boy, Prince Philip lost everybody, and he became very self-reliant. But he won’t talk about it and has spent a lifetime blocking it out. He simply says, “What’s there to complain about? These things happen.”’
Among other ‘things’ that happened to him was serving as a young Royal Navy midshipman on the battleship HMS Valiant in World War II and performing heroically in a running battle with enemy cruisers in 1941. He typically underplays the incident and his part in it, just as, later, he skates over his role in the hugely influential Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme which, since 1956, has encouraged a spirit of adventure and service in millions of young people. He demurs when asked if he is ‘proud’ of it, shrugging off such an egocentric word. ‘I’ve no reason to be proud. It’s satisfying that we’ve set up a formula that works but I don’t run it. It’s all fairly second-hand.’ He didn’t even want his name to be attached to it. ‘That was against my better judgement. I tried to avoid it but I was overridden.’
On the Queen's accession and his role
The Duke’s cousin, Lady Mountbatten, remembers the ‘appalling shock’ felt by the young couple with two small children as their lives changed overnight. ‘It must have been very difficult for both of them.’ The Duke was the first of the new queen’s subjects to kneel before her at her coronation in 1953 and pledge himself her ‘liege man of life and limb’ who would ‘live and die for her against all manner of folks’. For the six decades since he has been her most ardent protector and supporter, keeping that quaintly worded promise to the letter. She, in turn, awarded him ‘place, pre-eminence and precedence’ next to her. But his life was inevitably curtailed as he gave up the job he adored to be a full-time prince. He won’t say how much that hurt at the time and perhaps still does.
His wife had duties to perform, but there is no specified role in our constitution for a consort, so he had none. ‘It’s all been trial and error,’ he says. Moreover, fearing a reprise of the last consort, Prince Albert, who had wielded considerable and possibly undue influence over Queen Victoria, politicians insisted that Philip should be kept out of the loop when it came to matters of government. He was, though, master in his own household, the head of the family. But there was a cloud over that role too when the government decided, with the Queen’s consent, that their children were not to take his family name of Mountbatten but to be designated Windsors. The Duke is said to have been incandescent with rage, famously fulminating that ‘I am nothing but a bloody amoeba, the only man in the country not allowed to give his name to his own children.’
On his intellect and openness
His razor-sharp edge had Joanna Lumley on her toes. ‘It’s rather like meeting a hawk or an eagle. There’s something absolutely penetrating about the eyes. You feel you’re being scanned. You raise your game. You hope he’ll like you.’ He’s notoriously tetchy with reporters while also, conversely, acknowledging that communication with the people is an essential part of a modern monarchy. ‘We’re not a secret society,’ he insists in justification of his initiative in 1969 to let the cameras in for the famous and controversial BBC fly-on-the-wall documentary,
Royal Family. ‘I don’t see why people shouldn’t know what’s going on. Much better that they should know than speculate,’ he says pointedly. ‘The media is a professional intruder. You can’t complain about it.’
‘He always speaks his mind,’ says Lady Mountbatten, ‘but people enjoy it. They think how nice it is to hear somebody actually say what they think instead of saying what they think they should say.’
.