Among the first to warn us of global warming, he used the term greenhouse gas to describe the increasing levels of CO2 in the atmosphere. That was in the 1960s and it was dismissed as a cranky notion. Where he lived, he had a large study lined with books which he actually read; perhaps one reason for the mushrooming of ideas.
The story begins in Corfu, Greece where he was born. His very prominent family was turfed out of the country and settled in France. After early schooling, he was sent to a private boarding school in the UK.
Founded by German-Jewish educator Kurt Hahn in 1934, Gordonstoun School was new with new ideas when he attended. An equal emphasis on mind and body, it challenged students mentally and physically, the latter far more than at other such private schools. A strapping boy who was also extremely intelligent, he loved the place — later his son was to hate it. Hahn wrote of him that he would do very well any task assigned to him.
He went on to the naval academy and finished at the top of his class, doing the same at later naval exams and becoming the youngest Lieutenant in the navy. Given command of a ship, he ran it like clockwork but a certain lack of sensitivity to others also came through: the crew were driven ragged and hated serving under him. He loved the navy and always loved the sea; indeed it was a sacrifice to give up his naval career when he married but it was incompatible in his new role for his wife was a very important personage.
Studying in England, I could not fail to notice his frequent presence on newspaper front pages, even though my own interests then did not focus on the news of the day. He seemed to set up awards for all kinds of excellence. He wanted British industry to shine, young people to deliver their best and so on. And of course, he was invariably presenting awards to the winners.
A sportsman, he was also out there playing polo with his team, or at equestrian meets or playing cricket at charity events, or sailing which he clearly loved. His uncle saw India through a hurried independence and a bloody partition. Uncle Dickie, as he was called by the royal children, was a valued presence until killed by the IRA (Irish Republican Army) in a senseless bomb attack that lost them public sympathy.
The country’s leaders kept him busy and he was sent to numerous countries representing the queen, most often to former colonies in an era with a rash of newly independent countries. Yes, his name was Philip, titled Prince of Greece and Denmark, and his wife was Queen Elizabeth II.
Prince Philip’s royal bloodline (like the Queen’s) was German — Battenberg the family last name having been changed to Mountbatten during the First World War. His sisters married Germans and remained in Germany during the Second World War. They were not invited to his wedding to a very much in love Princess Elizabeth. He had been the longest serving consort of any British monarch when he died a few days ago.
Prince Philip’s travels were also notorious for gaffes and his eye for attractive females — middle class morality be damned. A definite lacuna in sensitivity was more than evident. Meeting a group of Nigerians resplendent in their long colorful national dress, he remarked, “Ready for bed, are we?” to their embarrassment.
Yet, all in all, a very full life.