Watching the House of Lords and the Commons sing “God Save the King” in Westminster Hall, and to see King Charles’ face melt for a second, contoured by the emergence of the powerful emotions that his mother’s death and his accession to the throne thrust to the surface, is to catch a span of history compressed into a moment.
Who, of good mind and generous spirit, could not wish him well? He has waited so long for destiny to draw him into the place it prepared him, and the drama of accession is only modified by the grief in the death that brought him there.
