Prince Philip's Century 1921-2021

Robert Jobson

Description

Prince Philip's life and legacy. Read the new and definitive biography of the remarkable Duke of Edinburgh.

For decades Prince Philip shared the Queen’s burden of office without upstaging her, always privately providing reassurance and advice but never overstepping the boundaries of his supporting role. It was an unforgiving position – a challenge for anyone – but one that he met head on. He remained the Queen’s adviser and closest confidant and was known as such the world over. That said, he was wise enough to recognise his limitations and the constraints of his role. He always seemed to instinctively know when it was time to step back and let his wife take the lead. His job was, after all, to allow her star to shine.

Robert Jobson’s magnificent biography of the Duke of Edinburgh tells the full story of his remarkable life and achievements, and how, after his marriage in 1947 to Princess Elizabeth, this dedicated military man spent so much of his life dutifully supporting his wife. Though he created a role for himself as a determined moderniser and environmental campaigner, and through the Duke of Edinburgh Awards, encouraged young people to reach their potential, it was perhaps his greatest achievement to have been a loyal husband and companion, and a loving father and grandfather.

Sujets

• Lettres et linguistique
• Regalía
• Biography
• Royalty
• General officer
• Military
• General
• Autobiography
• Redevance

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 12 avril 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781913721138
• Langue: English

Extrait

Prince Philip’s Century 1921-2021
The Extraordinary Life Of The Duke Of Edinburgh


Robert Jobson
Contents



Pledge of Allegiance

Preface

Acknowledgments


1. Strength And Stay

2. Nomadic Prince

3. Brief Encounters

4. The Fog Of War

5. A Secret Engagement

6. Fanfare Of Trumpets

7. Roses And Carnations

8. Becoming Queen

9. First Duty

10. That Little Interlude

11. Rift! What Rift?

12. Badge Of Bastardy

13. A Man In The Mask

14. Into The Red

15. Sons And Daughter

16. In For The Kill

17. Tabu Man

18. Silver Linings

19. ‘A Senseless Act’

20. Affairs Of The Heart

21. Chinese Whispers

22. ‘Dearest Pa’

23. Parting Tears

24. The Gaffer Of India (And Other Indiscretions)

25. Golden Age

26. Winding Down

27. Bumpy Road

28. Final Farewell
For Karen, for all her steadfast support and hard work in helping this book become a reality.
For my late aunt, Maureen, I miss our funny conversations.
‘ I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, do become your liege man* of life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God. ’


The Duke of Edinburgh’s pledge of allegiance to his wife and sovereign Queen Elizabeth II at her Coronation, Westminster Abbey, 2 June 1953
* A ‘liege man’ is a devoted follower who owes allegiance and service to a feudal lord.
‘Life is going to go on after me, if I can make life marginally and more tolerable for people who come afterwards or even at the time I’d be delighted.’
HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh
Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my publishers, John and Jon, at Ad Lib for investing in me and caring about this book, my fabulous editors, particularly Karen, for improving my work, my sources, for informing me and, of course, my friends and family for putting up with me during the writing of this book. I would also like to thank my old friend and colleague, Arthur Edwards MBE, for allowing me to showcase some of his brilliant photographs of the Duke of Edinburgh, the Queen and other members of the Royal Family that are used in this book. I hope you enjoy the book.
Robert D. Jobson @theroyaleditor
1

Strength And Stay



‘There is nothing like it for morale to be reminded that the years are passing — ever more quickly — and that bits are beginning to drop off the ancient frame. But it is nice to be remembered at all.’
Philip’s response to being awarded an ‘Oldie of the Year Award’ in 2011
Throughout his long and eventful life, Prince Philip had been a stickler for precision and military detail. The arrangements for his death and funeral, he vowed, would be no different. He could not abide commotion and confusion. He loathed it as much as he did in receiving personal praise. His mantra in life had, after all, always been, ‘Just get on with it’.
Philip was as pragmatic about death as he was practical in life. His first instruction was that he would not die in hospital, but at Windsor Castle, his home. Further detailed instructions for his own funeral, known by the codename ‘Operation Forth Bridge’, were to be carried out to the letter and were incontestable. He ruled that there would be no state service at Westminster Abbey, even though as the Queen’s husband he was entitled to one, nor would his body lie in state. Instead, Prince Philip settled on having a ceremonial military funeral at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, the high-medieval Gothic style Royal Peculiar and the Chapel of the Order of the Garter, located in the Lower Ward of the castle built in 1475. In addition, the duke instructed that a palace official should not confirm or deny anything about his death until the designated footman, dressed in full livery, had attached the framed notice to the gates of Buckingham Palace. Then and only then could the Royal Family’s team of communications officers at the palace press office be allowed to break the silence. Everyone with a role in this final piece of solemn theatre knew exactly what to do and when, so that it could be carried out, as Philip planned, with the minimum of fuss. When the COVID-19 pandemic first struck in March 2020 and both he and the Queen were forced to relocate and self-isolate at Windsor he agreed to simplify the funeral arrangements still further should anything happen to him. He never liked loose ends.
Robust and controversial, Prince Philip inevitably had detractors. They preferred to focus on his so-called ‘gaffes’, perceived blunders and crotchety remarks, rather than his huge achievements. He deserves his place in history on merit. Reducing Philip to a caricature of himself is a gross misrepresentation of one of life’s great characters, leaders and innovators and does him a disservice. He often uttered his risqué comments simply to liven up dull proceedings, and at boring official events he often drew a laugh by saying: ‘You’re going to see the world’s most experienced plaque unveiler at work.’ He once got a roar of laughter from the crowd on a visit to Canada in 1969, ‘I declare this thing open, whatever it is.’ He would tell advisers that when he entered a room, he would look along a line and select one person he would try to make laugh.
I was fortunate to have met the Duke of Edinburgh many times in my capacity as a royal correspondent and author, both in public and private. He was president of my London club, the Naval and Military Club (known as the In & Out club) at 4, St James Square. Indeed, Naval history remained a keen interest throughout his life. He was appointed a Trustee of the National Maritime Museum in 1948. He was instrumental in saving the tea clipper Cutty Sark – now a museum ship stationed in Greenwich – and in establishing the Maritime Trust.
He was funny, sometimes audacious, and sharp-witted on each occasion. He didn’t care about offending the politically correct brigade and spent even less time on any criticism they may have thrown his way. As for the ladies and gentlemen of the press, he had even less time and, despite having a number of friends who were journalists in his earlier years, took to referring to them as ‘The Reptiles’. In 1983 in Bangladesh, the Queen and the duke were standing in the garden of a government building to meet guests waiting in line for a cocktail party. Ashley Walton, the then royal correspondent of the Daily Express , was with other members of the travelling ‘Royal Rat Pack’ of reporters at the end of the line. Philip, not realising he could be overheard, turned to the Queen and grimaced: ‘Here come the bloody reptiles!’
When asked if he felt the press has been unfair to him or misrepresented him, he said, ‘I suppose, yes, occasionally but I think it has its own agenda and, and that’s it, you just have to live with it.’ He saw journalists as fair game, as they saw the royals in a similar light. Whenever he came into direct contact with one, he would toy with his prey, but just like a cat with a mouse he was not actually playing.
When he was guest of honour at the 60th birthday dinner of the Foreign Press Association in London in 1948, he described journalists as ‘the people’s ambassadors’ but then added caustically: ‘I often wish the people didn’t want to know quite so much.’ The Parliamentary Press Gallery invited him as its guest of honour in 1956 and asked for his views on journalists in general. ‘It is very tempting,’ said the duke, ‘but I think I had better wait until I get a bit older.’
Indeed, he had been making jokes at the expense of the press for years. Looking at the Barbary apes on a visit to the Rock of Gibraltar in 1950, accompanied by a posse of press, he joked, ‘Which are the apes, and which are the reporters?’ Even senior journalists who had been invited to his home were not safe. I remember at a media reception held at Windsor Castle in 2002 to mark the Queen’s Golden Jubilee, which I attended, he was on top form.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded of Simon Kelner.
‘I’m the editor-in-chief of The Independent , sir.’
‘What are you doing here?’ asked the duke?
‘You invited me.’
‘Well, you didn’t have to come!’
His next victim was Martin Townsend, the bespectacled and affable then editor of the Sunday Express .
‘Ah the Sunday Express ,’ said Philip. ‘I was very fond of Arthur Christiansen.’
‘Yes, there’s been a long line of distinguished editors,’ replied Townsend.
‘I didn’t say that!’ Philip replied bluntly before walking away.
At the same reception I was chatting to two distinguished Irish journalists as the royals worked the room. Out of nowhere the duke appeared. He peered at the labels on our lapels and as soon as he had worked out that they were Irishmen he then proceeded to tell a completely inappropriate Irish joke. ‘Did you hear the one about the Irish pilot who radioed the Air Traffic Control Tower saying he had a problem?’ They clearly had heard it, but played along politely. ‘Tower control then cleared him to land,’ Philip said, ‘but also asked for his height and position.’
‘Well, I’m five foot eight and I am sitting in the cockpit at the front of the plane,’ said the duke and delighted at being the first to laugh at the punchline of his own joke. We all dutifully joined in. Then he read my name badge which said, Robert Jobson, Royal Correspondent, The Sun . He also recognised my Naval and Military C