Prince Philip: a “moderniser” with a sense of duty

“I reckon I’ve done my bit,” he said, when he turned 90. “So I want to enjoy myself a bit now, with less responsibility, less frantic rushing about, less preparation, less trying to think of something to say. On top of that, your memory’s going. I can’t remember names and things. It’s better to get out before you reach your sell-by date.” He didn’t let up the pace then, but almost six years on, the Duke of Edinburgh is retiring, aged 95. From the autumn, he will live mainly at Windsor or Sandringham, while his wife (who stays at Buckingham Palace during the week) attends engagements, either alone or with one of the younger members of Team Windsor. The Queen, who is herself 91, “will feel Philip’s absence” as she goes about her public duties, said Caroline Davies in The Guardian: during 70 years of marriage, he has, as she put it on their golden wedding anniversary, been her “strength and stay”, an almost constant presence by her side. Photographers will miss the sight of the Duke hoisting small children clutching posies over barriers, to get them closer to his wife; while journalists will miss his gaffes. Dontopedalogy, the art of putting a foot in one’s mouth, is a term he claims to have coined.

Yet no one could begrudge his retirement, said The Daily Telegraph. For 70 years, the man who describes himself as the “world’s most experienced plaque-unveiler” has personified the notion of public duty. He has carried out 22,191 solo engagements; been on 637 solo overseas trips; and given 5,493 speeches. Last year, he had engagements on 110 days, and in 1994 (when he was 73), he had an estimated 662 engagements. He is the patron, president or member of 785 charities, ranging from Book Aid International to Hull Kung Fu. But arguably his greatest legacy is the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award. Eight million young people have taken part in the scheme, in more than 140 countries. He has himself attended more than 500 Gold Award presentations.

Philip is known for his love of carriage racing and country sports, but his passions range from conservation to engineering. Indeed, said Matthew Parris in The Times, people who see Philip as a crusty old man forget that when he joined the royal family as a glamorous naval officer – a man who’d served on destroyers during the War, and been mentioned in despatches – he was considered a “moderniser”. With his belief in “the power and possibilities of science”, and impatience with the stuffy old ways, Philip was a “go-ahead royal representative of a postwar Britain excited by the future”. Here was a prince who, on visits to hydroelectric plants, wanted to discuss how the turbines worked, and “who immersed himself in plans for children from Britain’s cities”: like Prince Albert, he was a “missionary for progress”. Yet there is continuity, between the young duke and the testy nonagenarian. As a sharp-minded rationalist, and a military man, he has always been intolerant of waffle, bored by ceremony; and he has always chafed at the constraints of monarchy. The difference is that he no longer hides it.

More’s the pity, said Adam Lusher in The Independent. His asides have been dismissed as mere “gaffes”, misfired attempts to lighten the mood, or break the ice, on public engagements – but some have been xenophobic and even racist. It’s bad enough to dismiss Elton John’s car as “ghastly”, but Philip surely knew better than to use the word about Beijing. There was nothing funny about warning British students in China that they’d get “slitty eyes”, or his insensitive defence of gun ownership after the Dunblane massacre.

Philip is far from perfect, said Gyles Brandreth in the Daily Mail. He has a temper, he can be rude and he dislikes the press. “Masculine, forthright and restless”, he was not really cut out to play second fiddle, said Philip Eade in The Daily Telegraph – yet he gave up the naval career he loved when his wife became Queen; and since then, in public he has had to bow when she enters the room. It was not the life he would have chosen, but he accepted it, and – denied an official role – carved out his own (often in the teeth of opposition from an establishment that dismissed him as Phil the Greek). And that is why people forgive him his gaffes, said The Daily Telegraph. They appreciate that royal life can be boring (“yak yak yak… get a move on,” he once shouted from the deck of Britannia to his wife, who was chatting to her hosts on the quayside). Yet Philip has soldiered on. He didn’t have to, said The Guardian. The idea of royal duties is relatively modern: Philip could have retreated into indolence. But he understood that the monarchy depends on public support. Diligence has been his great virtue, and as he passes the baton on, that “should not be taken for granted”.

“As a sharp-minded rationalist, he has always been intolerant of waffle, bored by ceremony”