Queen Elizabeth II arrives in Westminster Abbey for the Service Of Thanksgiving For The Duke Of Edinburgh. Photo / Getty Images
Uplifting? Certainly. A moving celebration of an extraordinary life well lived? Of course.
But stripped of the pomp and circumstance, the protocol and gravitas, of a state occasion, the service of thanksgiving for His Royal Highness the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, contained myriad subtexts and questions about those present – and those absent – that had their own unspoken bearing on the purpose and meaning of the matter in hand.
First and foremost, the matter of the Queen. Unable to attend the Commonwealth Day service at Westminster Abbey two weeks ago, reportedly due to concerns about the comfort of getting Her Majesty to and from the service, how would she manage this most difficult, most essential duty – paying final tribute to her late husband?
Then there is the question of what more pressing business could have detained Prince Harry from attending his beloved grandfather's memorial service? How would the Duke's disgraced son, relieved of his formal royal duties, comport himself in the face of the millions watching on television, doubtless searching his face for any sign of shame or embarrassment. (And where, for that matter, was Sarah, Duchess of York?).
What implications do the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge's controversial visit to the Caribbean carry for the future role of the Crown and the Commonwealth? If ever there was a time for Prince Philip's steadying hand on the tiller of the great ship of the monarchy this, one thought, was it.
This was a service to celebrate the Duke's gifts of character, humour and resilience; his fortitude and devotion to duty. And it was all of these things, conducted with the propriety, exactitude and polish of all royal occasions. Westminster Abbey, that great theatre of royal occasion, where the Queen was crowned in 1953, and where she and Prince Philip married 74 years ago, had never looked more magnificent.
It was to spare her the arduous walk up the aisle of the Abbey that Her Majesty arrived at the entrance adjacent to Poet's Corner, on the arm of the Duke of York – clearly a gesture as much of her support for him, as of him supporting her. All eyes turned as she walked slowly and steadily to her seat, a model of composure, the Duke holding her left arm, a walking stick in her right.
The Queen took her seat beside Prince Charles, a matter of yards from her ancestors' tombs. Seated beside him was the Duchess of Cornwall, and the Princess Royal and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and their children were seated in the row behind. Prince Andrew took his seat across the aisle, beside the Earl of Wessex and his family. The seating was in order of precedence, but it was to prove particularly fortuitous for the television cameras, which could focus in tight on those on the Queen's side of the aisle while studiously avoiding Prince Andrew.
One's mind inevitably went back to the Duke of Edinburgh's funeral 11 months ago in St George's Chapel in Windsor Castle, when the Queen, masked according to Covid regulations, had sat in solitary mourning for her husband.
Only 30 people were allowed to attend that funeral service. Some 1800 crowded into Westminster Abbey for the service of thanksgiving. Among them were 51 members of the Duke's family and representatives of its Greek, Danish and German branches. It was often said of the Duke that he was "more royal than the royals". The last Tsar of Russia was his great uncle. There were politicians, military figures, neighbours from Balmoral, close friends including Penelope Knatchbull, Countess Mountbatten of Burma, one of the few non-family members who also attended his funeral, and those from all walks of life whom the Duke had touched in his 99 years, including David Attenborough, Dame Floella Benjamin and Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson.
Like the Queen, the Duchess of Cornwall and the Princess Royal, many were dressed in dark green in tribute to Prince Philip, whose livery colour was Edinburgh Green.
The Queen was said to be "actively involved" in planning the service, which was designed to fulfil the Duke's final wishes, while celebrating his accomplishments. Guests arriving at the West Door were greeted by an honour guard of Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award holders. The hymns were his favourites. The flowers included sea holly, reflecting his naval service, and orchids, which paid tribute to their wedding day in the Abbey 74 years ago.
The service was short, just 45 minutes, acknowledging the strain being placed on the 95-year-old monarch – wearing a brooch that Prince Philip had given her in 1966 – who stood determinedly to sing the hymns, but otherwise sat grave-faced and visibly moved, her usual mask of composure occasionally slipping. Behind her, Princess Beatrice covered her face behind her order of service, a reminder that this was above all a family occasion, not just a public one.
Clerical prayers and addresses aside there was just one speaker paying tribute to the Duke's accomplishments and his enormous contribution to public life. It was fitting that, as he would have wished, it should have come from gold Duke of Edinburgh Award holder, Doyin Sonibare. The daughter of Nigerian parents, her account of growing up in east London, going camping for the first time on her Award expedition to Wales and being afraid of climbing a steep hill in case she tripped, rolled down the mountain "and it's lights out for Doyin", brought a refreshing touch of naturalness and levity to the occasion. The Award transformed her life, as it has done for countless others.
In his address, the Dean of Westminster, Rt Reverend David Conner, spoke of Prince Philip's deep faith, his astonishing intellectual and physical energy, his "enormous capacity for sheer hard work" and his "loyalty and deep devotion to our Queen and to their family".
The Duke, he said, was not "a 'plaster saint", someone without the usual human foibles and failings". Like the rest of us "he was part of flawed humanity, but he remained true to and guided by an inner spiritual compass".
All these unintended resonances...
For the concluding hymn, Guide Me, Oh Thou Great Redeemer, Prince Andrew could be seen glancing away from his order of service and momentarily gazing upwards, as if in search of some redemption himself.
As the National Anthem was sung, and Prince Andrew accompanied Her Majesty on the short walk back up the aisle, one was left with the very real feeling that this might be one of the last times the Queen will be seen in public and that a long chapter in the nation's history is drawing to a close.