A FEW of you may remember that, some time ago, I vowed never again to write about the royals, on the principle that they have feelings like anybody else. We should not take pot shots at them for fun, as if they were grouse to be blasted to smithereens. News stories are one thing; pernicious gossip or cruel remarks something else entirely.

Why am I breaking my promise? Blame The Crown. With the release of the new series I, like millions of others, have been gripped. It has been like watching a reprise of my youth: the fashions and haircuts we had at university, the political events that shaped our future – John Major’s misery, the handing over of Hong Kong, Tony Blair’s landslide victory – but above all the scandals: Fergie’s toes being sucked, the toe-curling tampon conversation between Charles and Camilla, the blitzkrieg of an interview Diana gave to Martin Bashir.

I cannot be alone in wondering how the years could have passed so quickly that what, on screen, feels like yesterday, is in fact ancient history. According to palace sources, however, it is precisely as events draw ever closer to the present that the King fears The Crown’s depiction is “damaging”. It’s said the Prince of Wales shares this view, believing that “the royal family know a lot of it is nonsense, but it is really harsh and hurtful”.

Not many families would relish the spotlight being thrown on the innermost details of their lives; fewer still emerge with a clean slate. While there is no denying that royals are peculiar in being more an institution than a family as traditionally understood, what household does not have things it would prefer not to reveal? And while few ordinary mortals have had to contend with such desperate situations as Diana’s tragic death or Prince Andrew’s disgrace, some, alas, have.

That’s one of the reasons why The Crown is so popular: it offers a peek through the keyhole into the most unfathomable family in the land, whose antics are a magnifying glass for our own experience.

We recognise that it’s not all strictly based on fact, don’t we? Well, it would seem not everybody does. Some deluded souls think this is a history lesson rather than a cleverly wrought concoction designed to tell a riveting story without letting inconvenient reality get in the way. Given the comments I’ve heard from thirtysomethings, who treat The Crown as if it were the Encyclopaedia Britannica, Dame Judi Dench had a point when she suggested the series should come with a disclaimer, warning viewers it is a fictionalised version of events rather than a docudrama.

Is it sensationalised? Is Donald Trump a chump? How else to keep viewers glued? Does it telescope events and present a simplified, exaggerated or unjust portrayal of the various central royals? Of course. Is it wildly off the mark? In some instances indubitably, to the extent that, with a previous series, Prince Philip allegedly considered suing, and in the latest, John Major has refuted a plotline that has Charles petitioning him about the possibility of the Queen abdicating. And yet despite its distortions, The Crown still manages to capture a flavour of how the royal family lives.

And what an unenviable existence it is. I’ve known goldfish less exposed to the public glare. More powerfully in this series than ever before, as the Prince and Princess of Wales’s marriage crumbles and the Queen looks on in uncomprehending dismay, this shameless soap opera conveys the suffocating scrutiny under which even lesser royals must exist. Nobody can deny they enjoy exceptional privilege and wealth, and a jet-set lifestyle some doubtless envy. But the conditions under which they exist are so extraordinarily constrained, so exposed to the scrutiny, it would drive most of us nuts.

What’s fascinating about this depiction is the way it hammers home the rigidity of the palace and its expectations, a straitjacket of convention that is all but paralysing of spontaneity or pleasure. The Queen is used as the emblem and mouthpiece for centuries of regal protocol, which proves to be as flexible as cement. So too her closest advisors and attendants. Even Elizabeth, it is clear, was as much a prisoner of the system as her toiling offspring. She had the good fortune to start her reign in an age of deference, and to have a personality that could adapt to a punishingly rigid set of rules and preconceptions. Her children, and Charles in particular as heir, were not so lucky.

In the history of the British monarchy, there has never been such social upheaval as the advent of the full-throttle media age, into which Charles was thrust. His problem was to be obliged to straddle an abyss: on one side, the standards of the pre-televisual age, on the other the late 20th century, and the rapacious digital world. What is remarkable, in retrospect, is how forward-thinking he has proved, despite his invidious inheritance of title and expectations.

So does The Crown damage the Firm’s image? Does it diminish them by turning them into fictional characters, as if they are players in a souped-up version of Dallas?

You can see why those depicted might feel that way. Most of us, in the same situation, surely would. But to the objective eye, what emerges most strongly from this compulsively watchable drama is a sense of affection and in some cases awe, for this astonishing family, and its place in our society. If there is something proprietorial – not to mention presumptuous or even treasonous – about broadcasting a dramatised version of the Palace while most of its incumbents are still alive, that speaks partly to our egalitarian times. Equally, however, it reflects pride.

Where Charles and William dread the erosion of the family’s status, I’d argue they probably have little to fear. By illuminating the constraints and pressures under which they have to live and work, The Crown engenders a degree of sympathy. The bigger question, of course, is whether it dents the aura of majesty and mystery on which the royals depend.

The mystery, certainly, has evaporated, although that occurred long before The Crown. What is extraordinary, though, is that this portrait of royal scandal, cold-heartedness, infidelity and intrigue seems paradoxically in danger of enhancing rather than destroying the House of Windsor’s allure.

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