Let’s go in close. To the small details. Like the King trying to deal with two giant parchments, a big fancy inkpot, and a tray of pens, all of which had been placed on a table smaller than a fold-down tray on an economy flight to Zante. It irritated the new king and some might say: who can blame him? Others might say: yes, but the Queen barely showed her irritation publicly in 70 years.

Or this little detail: the proclamation of the new monarch being signed by Nicola Sturgeon, leader of a political party established, when George V was King, with the aim of splitting up the kingdom. A few rows back was Alex Salmond, her predecessor. Did they see each other? Did he blank her? Did she blank him? What did Gordon Brown say to Boris Johnson? What did William say to Harry when they met later on? It’s the little dramas, tiny parts of the bigger one, that interested me.

But let’s go back to that specific moment when Nicola Sturgeon signed the proclamation because I think there’s some meaning to be found there. I do not know what Ms Sturgeon’s private views on monarchy are, but the tone, content and style of her contributions to the mourning have been perfectly judged. If what she said wasn’t meant sincerely, she’s good at faking it.

The presence of Ms Sturgeon – and even Mr Salmond who’s always seemed to have a curious fondness for the pomp and favours of the British state – was also a significant sign of how the ramshackle and unwritten constitution actually works. Here at the heart of the establishment was someone who is, by definition, anti-establishment (although officially supportive of the continuation of the monarchy after independence). Here was a politician who wants a political revolution facilitating the exact opposite: the continuation of the old ways via an antediluvian ceremony with inkpots and trumpets. It is … what would be the right word? It is weird.

I say weird mainly because this is how change happens in Britain – it happens while giving the appearance of no change, which, in a sense, is the point of monarchy. Elizabeth II was Queen for 70 years and to that extent everything stayed the same. But look at the people recording the ancient ceremony on their mobiles. Look at the diversity of the witnesses to the proclamation (it was all men when the Queen was proclaimed). Listen to the way Prince William speaks compared to the squeaky Celia Johnson vowels of the Queen in the ‘50s. And look at the leader of the SNP signing the papers that proclaimed the Queen’s heir King Charles III. It is change under our noses and, dare I say it, it is the best way for change to happen.

I realise, obviously, that there are some - perhaps many - who would like to see change happen quicker – the protesters, for example, who booed the proclamation in Edinburgh, or the Scots who support the idea of an independent republic, or even the kind of people who might celebrate the Queen’s death in between frying chips. They might sweep the proclamations and inkpots off the table and demand change now, and fair enough. The only thing I’d say to them is: smash rather than remould, go for revolution rather than evolution, and you can get unintended consequences.

Perhaps this is one of the lessons we can learn from the sight of the First Minister at the heart of a ceremony which appears to represent continuity. The reign of Elizabeth II was a remarkable, living link to the Victorian age but it did not insist on Victorian values: in fact, an extraordinary amount of political change happened in Scotland under the Queen’s watch: devolution, the referendum, the growth in support for independence. Scotland is utterly different to the way it was, even 10 years ago, and yet always, until a few days ago, the head of state was the same.

This, it seems to me, is the key to the British monarchy and the secret to its power. The monarchy is constant and yet it facilitates change. It connects us directly to history and the past without dictating that the future must be the same. Change can be possible and desirable and it can happen, but perhaps the bizarre, bejewelled peak of the constitution acts as a way of finding the appropriate speed of change in Britain – one that isn’t too fast, or too violent, or too destructive. Perhaps this is why, generally, Britain has changed profoundly but peacefully. Those of us who are afraid of change can be comforted. And those who crave change should know that there’s nothing to stop it.

I realise, before you point it out, that I am projecting here, that I am placing my own ideas, prejudices and fears on to a part of the constitution that has no knowledge of them – but again it strikes me that this is another of the keys to the monarchy’s success. I met the Queen once and we talked about newspapers (she thought they were too big at the weekends) but that doesn’t matter. My granny had a picture of the moment on her mantelpiece which was lovely but I found out nothing about the Queen and all I had was what I thought I saw – what I projected onto her. That’s how it works (and hopefully Charles knows it).

Democrats, and Scots who are concerned about Scottish nationalism, and Scottish nationalists themselves, should be comforted by all of this. The constitutional monarchy is not, and cannot ever be, an obstacle to independence. But the sight of its chief proponent, Nicola Sturgeon, signing the proclamation of a new monarch is a reminder that, in our constitution, the architects of change and continuity are forced to work together. Our strange, weird little system seeks, in some unplanned way, to find balance and usually does and that is good.

This is what I, personally, have seen in the last few days although I appreciate you may have seen something else. You may have seen incredible entitlement being passed from one person to another without our say-so. You may have seen a democratic abomination. You may have heard the boos and wanted to join in or you may have been moved to tears by the coffin’s progress through Scotland (it was the tractors forming the guard of honour that got me – isn’t it funny what gets to us?)

The point is that, in the future – maybe – the proponents of radical change will win and we will be independent or a republic or both. But the bigger point is that, because of the monarchy and because of Elizabeth II and perhaps Charles III, and because of Nicola Sturgeon’s scratchy signature on the proclamation, the change is less likely to happen in a precipitate, or unfair, or violent fashion. And it’s more likely to happen when all of us are ready.

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