He could have come before them and read the electoral register for Inverness East, Nairn and Lochaber and he would still have got a standing ovation. The Scottish National Party has waited 73 years for this – 79 if you go back to the first stirrings of nationalism in 1928 – and the delegates who packed the conference hall were not going to throw away the opportunity for some well-earned ecstasy.

Alex Salmond strode onto the stage, his classic cheeky grin in place, to be announced by his deputy as the first leader in the history of the SNP who could be introduced as “First Minister of Scotland”. The hall, packed to the rafters, erupted. From ancients in kilts and hairy sporrans who can recite the Declaration of Arbroath in their sleep, to youngsters who scarcely know where Arbroath is, they roared their approval.

On any level, this was a moment to savour, and Mr Salmond did not hesitate to savour it. Most leaders facing a tumultuous reception (Tony Blair and David Cameron spring to mind) attempt to calm down the audience with a modest gesture of remonstration. But Mr Salmond does not do modesty, nor even remonstrance. He simply stood and waited; a man bathing unashamedly in the adoration of his party.

When, finally, the applause died down, in case anybody had missed the point, he repeated the message: “I’ve waited a long time to say: ‘I stand before you as Scotland’s First Minister’.” It was obvious, it was corny, it was enough.

In any other circumstances, what followed might have been counted a disappointment. The SNP leader is one of the sharpest stump orators around. His cutting interventions, off-the-cuff insults, and exercises in heavy condescension can drive his opponents to apoplexy. But power does strange things to a man, and in Mr Salmond’s case it drained his speech of eloquence. Perhaps because he felt the need to hold back on impertinence, or because he was seeking vainly for some unaccustomed dignity, there was a lack of what he himself termed, several times, “inspiration”. You could see he was reaching for greatness. The clichés poured out.

“We stand on shoulders of giants,” he announced. “The politics of ambition ... living the dream ... no limit to what can be achieved ... by your deeds shall you be known ... Scotland belongs on a world stage ... not just building a proud nation, but building a nation of which we can be proud”. And so on.

Shopworn or not, there was no doubting the central argument. This, he said, is just the beginning – the goal is independence, and his party has the confidence to deliver it.

Typically, the most effective parts of the speech came with the insults: the scathing references to Douglas Alexander – whose handling of the Scottish election has been the target of much abuse – and his sister Wendy, who leads Labour in Scotland and has admitted that the party threw away victory last May. “One apologises for winning the election, the other apologises for nearly wrecking the election,” was a typical Salmond dig. Oddly, there were only a couple of passing references to Gordon Brown and there was an unwonted promise to seek cooperation rather than confrontation with Westminster. It may be that, as he assesses the long road ahead, Mr Salmond has realised that coexistence may be preferable to guerrilla warfare.

Perhaps the secret of this low-key performance was one of the last passages of all: “The better we govern, the stronger the case we make,” he said. It was as close to humility as Mr Salmond is ever likely to get.

Good governance, of course, is not quite so stirring a message as the dash for freedom or grabbing Scotland’s oil but it is the one thing that may win him another term as First Minister. As for the audience, it was all the same to them. They were only there for the glory.

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