Wedding Bell News
After 34 years and a failed marriage for each, the Prince of Wales and Camilla
Parker Bowles are finally tying the royal knot. How the monarchy is remaking
itself for a world that is increasingly blasé
To read more about the Royals from Edward and Mrs. Simpson to Charles and Camilla, visit our British Royals collection at www.time.com/royals.Subscribers get free access to the TIME Archive, from 1923 to the present.
Posted Sunday, Feb 13, 2005;
17.00 GMT
When Camilla Shand first met prince Charles in 1971
— she was 23 and he was 22 — she reportedly
said to him, "My great-grandmother was the
mistress of your great-great-grandfather, so how
about it?" They fell for each other as if the
match had been genetically programmed. But he was
young and indecisive — and as his family saw
it, this ardent girl with a louche ancestor was
not a suitable future Queen of England. And so Charles
failed to propose, Camilla soon married his philandering
friend Andrew Parker Bowles, and the prince later
wed his virgin princess Diana. But Charles and Camilla
could not let each other go. Trauma, tragedy and
miles of tabloid headlines would follow.
So when the news was announced last week that Charles
and Camilla were finally to wed on April 8, it almost
came as a relief. Prince Hamlet had made up his
mind to do what he should have done in the first
place. Two middle-aged people seared by their own
mistakes may now find in each other the happiness
and comfort they long squandered. The British establishment
rallied around them: the Prime Minister, the Cabinet,
the Leader of the Opposition, the Archbishop of
Canterbury and, crucially, the Queen herself (who
until the 1970s was not even permitted to be in
the presence of a divorced person) all bestowed
their blessing. Reporters were summoned Thursday
night to Windsor Castle to watch the happy couple
shifting awkwardly in front of the cameras, and
catch a glimpse of the heirloom rock now ensconced
on the bride-to-be's finger. Camilla said Charles
got down on bended knee to propose; a semi-sweet
tale of romance and redemption carefully packaged
for Valentine's Day.
The Windsors, however, are not a normal family.
Their family business is staying in business,
which in a democratic age means convincing taxpayers
that a hereditary monarchy is worth having. The
sales pitch has changed with the times. On her
21st birthday, the future Queen Elizabeth pledged
to her people that "My whole life, whether
it be long or short, shall be devoted to your
service." And so it has been. For more than
50 years, she has opened hospitals, presided at
state dinners and endured endless small talk without
appearing to want another job. The Queen's children
and grandchildren devised a different job description.
In an age obsessed with celebrity, the royals'
many public scandals — affairs, bulimia,
drugs, Nazi armbands — have offered all
the meretricious thrills of a reality-TV soap
opera. People, and photographers with long lenses,
have lapped it up, relishing the chance to feel
better than their betters. The saturation coverage
of the engagement last week, with royal experts
rushed to the TV studios to discuss fine points
of ecclesiastical law over archive footage of
Charles and Camilla, was the latest spasm of indulgence.
But the reaction of most people verged on the
blasé. Frank, 48, a London cab driver encountered
outside the Prince of Wales Feathers pub in central
London, summed up the mood: "It doesn't bother
me that they aren't married, and it doesn't bother
me that they're going to get married. No one interferes
in my life, so why should we interfere in theirs?"
The Camilla era may be offering the prospect of
a new compact between monarch and subject: live
and let live.
That could turn out well for the Windsors, or
very badly. In the short run, tolerance toward
the flaws of an aging couple lets Charles get
to the altar. But tolerance is not far from indifference,
and for an institution with no real power except
the power to impress, indifference is the unkindest
cut of all. The Windsors need not be icons, and
they should not be hell-raisers, but for their
own survival they cannot afford to leave their
subjects — and the world — bored.
Last week there were a few signs of apathy in the sea of schmaltz about enduring love. (A good chunk of the public is predisposed that way already: in a June 2004 poll, 38% of Britons said they just didn't care whether or not Charles and Camilla wed.) TV schedules quickly returned to normal. The Independent newspaper made fun of the orgy of royal coverage with a front page that mentioned the wedding in a tiny box, along with 11 other stories under the headline here is the news you may have missed. Of course, public opinion can be fickle; Diana's death triggered a flood of emotion only seven years ago. Radio call-in shows and Internet
polls showed that there's plenty of sting left in that collective wound, with venom being directed at the betrothed couple from those who still consider Diana their Queen of Hearts, or just don't like Camilla, or think Charles is terminally self-indulgent. But the first
large-scale opinion poll carried out after the announcement, conducted over the Internet by YouGov, found the public calm, with 65% backing the marriage.
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