Of the monarchies it shouldn’t surprise you so much that still exist in 2020, reigning over perfectly democratic societies, but continue inheriting from parents to children, century after century. Against what the carcundia has always sold, the family is not that robust and nuclear bastion of society. Even happy families, if any, can guarantee that their inheritance is transmitted without being torn apart or that their members remain united and faithful to parental wishes. The usual thing is that, when the time comes, everyone wants to make their life and pass genuflections and ermine, just as the blacksmith’s children use stick knives: for the very natural disposition we all have to annoy our parents.
I like to think that Enrique and Meghan made the decision to go out on their legs after a marathon of episodes of The crown. Seeing one of those sequences in which the queen is bored in a hall the size of a stadium, all full of paintings and watches that give their ticking much slower than Republican and commoners watches, Enrique turns to Meghan and Meghan turns to Enrique, the two of them huddled with blankets watching TV, and they say to each other with their eyes: let’s go to Canada or wherever. Where there are no portraits of tudores and victories and where the clocks do not make much noise and the minutes do not last an hour.
The mystery of the monarchy is not hidden in the propaganda that is needed to convince a cultured and free society that it is more useful and valuable than a republic, but in how the heirs are convinced to accept their destiny and how they achieve that royal families stay together with so few defections. Maybe Olivia Colman will tell us one day.