It was an extraordinary but ordinary day. Ordinary because the main business was carried out without histrionics: the expected political vaudeville failed to materialise. Extraordinary because many participants and observers thought such a day would never come. This was the birth of a new form of democracy in Northern Ireland but, unlike most births, there was a low-key, almost production-line feel to it. Everyone, both for and against the new development, kept their feelings in check, but there was plenty of emotion just underneath the surface.
There was emotion in John Hume's decision to step aside and allow his deputy, Seamus Mallon, to take the senior political post available to nationalists. Since the Derryman, in many ways, wrote the script for yesterday and given the length of time that script languished on the shelf before going into production, he surely felt entitled to claim the big prize - and few in his community would have disputed that right.
As usual, Hume kept his cards close to his chest and even Mallon himself knew nothing of the plan. Politicians are often accused of cold, calculating ambition but so far was Mallon from plotting and scheming to get this post that he did not even know about the meeting in Belfast's Wellington Park Hotel where Hume was to make his announcement. The Newry-Armagh MP turned up to Stormont's Castle Buildings yesterday morning to prepare for the afternoon opening of the Assembly and had to be alerted that the real action was taking place several miles away.
Lord Alderdice took his place as Presiding Officer, but unlike Seamus Mallon he was not confirmed in the job. Members on all sides failed to respond when he put the question of his permanent appointment to them. The silence was ominous from the ex-Alliance leader's point of view and it must be an open question whether he can survive the political horse-trading on the job that will take place over the summer.
Their opponents may have predicted that the Democratic Unionist Party and the smaller UK Unionists would perform a few stunts and try to turn the proceedings into a farce but as this is being written there is no sign of that happening. Their opposition to the process may not have abated but they are clearly intent on working the Assembly in a constructive way rather than - as some of their enemies had warned - turning it into a bear-garden.
Certainly, harsh and bitter things were said, particularly about the history of some of those present, both republican and loyalist. Television viewers may have been appalled by some of the bad manners displayed, especially when Sinn Fein members were speaking Irish, but to anyone familiar with local councils in Northern Ireland over the years, this was pretty tame stuff.
The issues on the surface were decommissioning and Drumcree but there was a sense these were transient factors and that the real significance of yesterday was the fact that virtually all shades of the Northern political spectrum - the Ulster Democratic Party being a significant and worrying exception - were sitting together under one roof and behaving in a reasonably civilised manner. The only weapons in use were words. As one looked around, spotting a high-profile republican here or a staunch unionist there, it was impossible not to feel that at long last we had the bones of a settlement.
As members delved into the detail of party representation on the Standing Orders committee with uncommon zest, it was impossible to suppress the first shoots of optimism that maybe this was going to work.
But there are long and bitter debates ahead. The gaps and divisions are enormous. There has been much hurt on both sides and the healing process is only beginning.
To one who has spent many long hours covering proceedings in Leinster House it was difficult not to draw comparisons. The standard of oratory on all sides was considerably higher and it was interesting how few speakers relied on notes.
Two who spoke impromptu and from the heart were the First Minister-designate and Deputy First Minister-designate, David Trimble and Seamus Mallon. Each in his own way sought to reach out to the other and to the community the other represented.
Mallon paid tribute to Trimble's courage, dignity and integrity and, with some emotion, spoke of the "awesome sense of responsibility" he felt. As Gerry Adams listened with close attention, Mallon pledged there would be "no exclusions in this new arrangement".
Trimble nodded agreement when Mallon said any disagreements between the pair of them would be sorted out "face-toface". One was reminded of the day the two leaders visited relatives of the young Protestant and Catholic men killed in Poyntzpass: that television footage was the first sure indication of glasnost in the debate between the two traditions in Northern Ireland.
The UUP leader referred to his friend, the late Edgar Graham, a unionist contemporary who was exploring new approaches but was murdered in his prime. Trimble was only yards away when it happened and had to identify the body. Little wonder that one felt this was a day of high emotion for Trimble as he sat across the floor from Sinn Fein representatives, with a strong prospect of having to go into government with them.
Trimble is not known for dispensing olive branches with unusual profligacy but on the question of going into government with the associates of paramilitaries he stressed the important thing was to establish they had irrevocable democratic credentials and - the key point - the fact that someone had a past did not mean they could not have a future.
The final swearing-in of the two new senior ministers was a moment of quiet but no doubt deeply-felt emotion. They each made their declaration under the tutelage of Lord Alderdice, shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder. It was the day the closed fist gave way to the open hand.