Elizabeth is dead. The corgis are dispersed. The regal torch she bore so long is quenched. The British monarchy seems suddenly diminished, its ancient and weighty saga shrunken, tabloidy, Twittery, wee. And now comes the reign of charmless Charles. We await his kingly disquisitions on classical architecture, gardening and homeopathy. Ahead the looming decades yawn. Are you feeling bereft, craving a royal frisson, experiencing a monarchist yen you may not have known you had? No American should.