'A nation at ease with itself.' That was John Major's heart-felt ambition, but alas, his own Party refused to be at ease with itself, or with him. There has been one consolation. With every passing year, Sir John's standing has grown, as people come to recognise that he is a thoroughly decent man, and that he was a pretty good PM. That said, at ease with itself: over the years, this goal has remained elusive, and not only under him. Now, it is worse than ever.
Public respect for politicians, the police, the law, the machinery of government and institutions in general has never been so low, at least since the troubled 1970s - and I suspect that the dissatisfaction is now greater. Yet there is one happy and glorious exception, which we saw in action last week. At last, we had a reason for pride.
There have always been republicans in this country. They infest the pages of the Guardian and their spokesmen are often given too much airtime by the BBC. But for many years, they had been largely silent. They realised that Her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth was invulnerable to anything except mortality. So they waited in hope, thinking that they might manage to campaign against the new Monarch. Fortunately for Great Britain, they were and are wrong.
That said, there were rumours that during the preparations for the Coronation, some officials in Court circles were alarmed. Might the ceremonial jar on the public? Although those doubters may have meant well, they were wrong. The grandeur of the spectacle delighted most observers. People wanted golden coaches, splendid robes, Zadok the Priest and all the glorious traditions which we British do so skilfully. The public wanted the new King to succeed.
But the Monarchy is not just about ceremony. The new King spends long hours working in his office. Few men of his age, and with some health problems, drive themselves harder. In his devotion to duty, he is his mother's son and heir.
All this was manifest last week. Planning a Royal visit around President Trump could not have been easy. Mr Trump is an enfant terrible. He is always unpredictable, and how could it be otherwise? He himself often does not know what he is going to say or do. So King Charles had a tricky task. Obviously, he would seek to uphold the dignity of his office, and his country. But he also had to ensure that his hosts, in the White House and in Congress, had a delightful and memorable time. Not easy, but the King was foot perfect.
The speeches were outstanding. The King himself put a lot of time into making sure that they were also word perfect. One official, Theo Rycroft, was known to be a first-class speech-writer. Last week, he added to his laurels.
Whisky tariffs apart, what are the longer-term consequences? That is impossible to say. In recent years, many British diplomats have been wary of using the term 'special relationship', for fear that it might irritate the Americans. But Donald Trump had no such inhibitions. It will always be important to get on with the USA, however awkward that can sometimes be. The special relationship has often been compared to sharing a bed with an elephant. You are unlikely to get a comfortable portion of the bedclothes. There is one sardonic conclusion to be drawn. Although it is doubtful if the special relationship ever really existed, it is as strong as ever.
There have been fine periods, and the Monarchy has often helped. In 1939, Franklin Roosevelt invited George VI and his Queen Elizabeth for a State Visit. There was to be a banquet in the White House. Around that time FDR's closest friend, Harry Hopkins, had been smitten by tragedy. His wife had died of cancer. The President invited him to stay in the White House, partly in order to ensure that his little daughter was looked after. Hopkins knew nothing about managing small children. The child was told that the great ones would be arriving in their finery and that she could look down at them from over the balcony.
But on the day, the girl fell ill and was confined to bed with a temperature. Somehow, news of this reached Queen Elizabeth. She slipped out of the grand drawing room, went upstairs, soothed the fevered brow and told the invalid a story. Shortly afterwards, Harry Hopkins nipped upstairs to wish his daughter goodnight. He found a thrilled child, who had seen a Queen in all her magnificence. Up to then, Hopkins had never been an enthusiastic monarchist. He would not have agreed with the then Mayor of Chicago who wanted to bust King George on the snoot, but he saw no reason for reverence. By the time he had returned downstairs, his daughter had converted him. It was almost a Pauline moment. Although we cannot be certain whether this did help with greater US arms supplies, it certainly did no harm.
Now the visit is over. There is a Scottish phrase, 'parrich an' auld claes.' It means porridge and old clothes, as in a return to normal life after a grand holiday occasion such as Hogmanay. The Captains and the Kings have departed and we are back, to a nation ill-at-ease with itself, full of grumbling and gloom. But last week, we were reminded that not everything is wrong with our nation: that we have a national treasure which almost every other country envies.