When Prince Philip became a monument

Not much difference was noted on the Labor side of politics. "The United Kingdom," wrote Sir Keir Starmer, "has lost an extraordinary public servant in Prince Philip." He noted a life marked by dedication to country, a distinguished career in the Royal Navy during conflict, and decades of service.

From outside Britain, Barack Obama was off the mark, unable to resist the urge to be modern and very contemporary. "At the Queen's side or trailing the customary two steps behind, Prince Philip showed the world what it meant to be a supportive husband to a powerful woman."

From the European Union, there was understanding without hyperbole. European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen preferred a no-nonsense approach, expressing her sadness and extending "sincere sympathy to Her Majesty The Queen, the Royal Family and the people of the United Kingdom on this very sad day."

During the reception of the honorary graduands that day in 2006, the strawberries being readily consumed, the champagne flowing like arteries let, Prince Philip could still muster a few remarks, speared, sharpened, and directed. He mocked those who had not been to Cambridge, geniuses who never had the chance to go to that great educational wonder in the Fens. "Is it true that there are actually a few of you who did not go to Cambridge?" To see him in motion was to see an institution within a man, bones and flesh going through tasks he did with a certain measure of irritation and resignation. The heat of battle must have been much more fun.