The King’s localist environmentalism by no means smacks of parochial politics. The town has enjoyed civic success, with impressive transport links to nearby Dorchester and relatively low car usage.

But its unification of environmentalist principles (carbon neutrality, pedestrianism, and sustainable housing) with an aesthetic of longevity (Roman facades and traditional market-town layouts) is an undeniable feat. For some, its meticulous neoclassical style seems uncanny, an overcorrection of stark cityscapes. The King’s famous foray into urban planning, Poundbury, is the subject of aesthetic contention. His Majesty’s critique of the frenetic and hedonic state of living in a globalised, consumerist culture is not limited to esoteric philosophising: as the “Black Spider” memos revealed, it has accompanied a long career of environmental activism and humanist advocacy. A patron of the pedagogical charity Tenemos Academy, he has publicly acknowledged “a need for those who can rise above the clamour, the din, and the sheer pace of our lives to help us to rediscover those truths that are immutable and eternal”. He has long expounded a Perennialist philosophy: the view that various religious traditions, despite their differences, partake in a shared metaphysical truth from which all wisdom proceeds. There is no modern-day hope for Plato’s philosopher king, but the King has already earned that title in the literal sense. King Charles III, as the longest-serving heir-apparent in history, wields that influence keenly. Little has changed in that regard since Bagehot christened the trifecta of monarchic rights in The English Constitution (1867): to be consulted, to encourage, and to warn. A modern King has virtually no political power, but great influence if he wants it.

21 lessons of the 21st century