The last English king to claim a divine right to rule had his head chopped off by religious fanatics. Now the young royals don't want the job they are obliged to do. Do they fear a repeat performance in our suddenly shaky world?
It seems weird to warm to the words of Prince Harry, who says being monarch is a job nobody wants today. Royalty's role until now has been to serve stoically, setting aside personal preferences, and if nothing else to be a symbol of constancy and the last serious wearers of hats.
I adored the Queen Mother's lavish headfuls of pastel-coloured fluff, for which millions of ostriches died, sadly oblivious to the honour. The current Queen's taste is sometimes rather dour, but nonetheless her public hatted appearances remind us that not very long ago it was perfectly normal for women to doll themselves up like that to go to church on Sundays.
The Windsor men have to resort to military gear to impress, and those wonderful tailored morning suits that make you think of PG Wodehouse's Jeeves, the clever butler who would have made sure their diamond tie studs sparkled, and the gravy stains were delicately washed off their silk ties.
Cursed with premature balding, how they must wish they could discreetly cover it up under a natty bowler hat - but who wears those nowadays? They can't even shave their remaining hair off like other balding men now do, in the vain belief that we can't see through the strategy. The media would be merciless.