Scotland's triumph will be talked about for years by the visitors but has left England shell-shocked, writes Oliver Brown.
Evidently, Eddie Jones's mischief-making had the desired effect on Scotland's players.
Whether it was the plangent wailing of Twickenham's lone bagpiper, or the montage chosen for the giant screen to herald 150 years of Calcutta Cup enmities, their emotions conveyed a sense that the England head coach's description of this fixture as their "biggest game of the year" had hit the target.
On the field, they were engaging in so much group-huddling and chest-beating that you half-feared they would exhaust themselves before kick-off. It turned out there was no need to worry, as Scotland, unleashing arguably their most buccaneering young side since the Five Nations became Six, delivered a victory for the ages.
To think, not one of these Scotland players had been born the last time their nation won at Twickenham, in 1983. Sean Maitland, their New Zealand-reared wing, was the eldest, at 31. Theirs is a fresh generation, desperate to write history of their own, but they were in little doubt as to the magnitude of what they had achieved.
The noise they let out as the ball sailed into touch for the final time was loud enough to fill even this most cavernous of fan-free spaces.
If there can be such a phenomenon as an 11-6 trouncing, then here it was.
Scottish team celebrate winning the Calcutta Cup. Photo / INPHO/Laszlo Geczo
While Jones had given dark warnings that the visitors would not be able to withstand a frantic 15 minutes, Scotland made a mockery of his prediction, weathering a rain-soaked denouement and winning with a poise where Finn Russell could even afford to miss several kicks. Rarely has this ancient and most venerable of the game's trophies been held aloft with such satisfaction.
For so long they have had to soak up an English sense of entitlement, and at last they could respond with superiority in every department.
This is what happens, clearly, when expectation of victory collides headlong with the rawest defiance. Scotland set about England ravenously, forcing a slew of early penalties, a yellow card for Billy Vunipola, and the deployment of Jonny May as an auxiliary No 8. They were galvanised not just by the sight of Warren Gatland in the stands, in search of breakout stars auditioning for the Lions. They played as if piqued by the constant reminders of '83, and by a nagging sense that if they could not buck that trend of flattering to deceive with this team, then when?
England, not unexpectedly, bore the ring-rust of champions fielding five players who had not played a minute of rugby since early December. It was Scotland's cue to monopolise both territory and possession, orchestrating inventive attacks that pivoted on their pocket dynamo, Finn Russell. The fly-half has had quite the evolution this past year, when you consider that 12 months ago he was not even on speaking terms with Gregor Townsend, convinced that the coach's drill-sergeant methods were dampening his attacking flair. With this performance, he again contrived to be both majestic and maddening.
One moment, he was angling the perfect cross-field kick to set up Duhan van der Merwe's finish for a try. The next, he was committing a daft trip on Ben Youngs, irritated at being sold a dummy by the scrum-half. For all Scotland's magnificence in this battle, they retained a roughness around the edges. Still, there is no substitute for passion, of which they brought an abundance.
History hung heavily over the occasion, as these adversaries marked the sesquicentennial of their first Test against each other. There were 4,000 people inside Raeburn Place in Edinburgh that day in 1871, a humble beginning but still a more enviable gate than anything that has been seen at Twickenham for a year. While the rivalry has since descended into almost four decades of England dominance, the Scots felt this was their time to strike, knowing that the hosts would be denied the power of home advantage. It is the task facing all teams at this Six Nations: how do you conjure pride in the jersey in an empty stadium? It was one to which Scotland rose wonderfully.
Jones, barking at his "finishers", looked lost as to a solution. But while he embarked on last season's Six Nations with an ambition to create the "greatest team that ever played", his players served up scant grounds to make such a grandiose claim. For England, this was a shellacking, a cause for humility. For Scotland, this was an accomplishment that would resound through the years. For the return match in Edinburgh in 2022, the talk will be of little else: this day when the Auld Enemy was dealt a grievous blow to inflated pride. Oh Calcutta, indeed.
