by The Laird o’Thistle
August 20 2006
“Once upon a time there was a prince who married a girl… and they live happily ever after.” That is what we wanted, wasn’t it? But some years ago the haunting Broadway musical Into the Woods disabused us of such fairy tales, and so did a couple of royal marriages in Britain.
I have actually been surprised at the relative neglect of the coming and going of what would have been the 25th wedding anniversary of Prince Charles and Prince Diana on July 29, and of the 20th anniversary of the marriage of Prince Andrew and Fergie on July 23, with so little public notice or comment. But then, to quote another – and perhaps more appropriate – opening line, it does all seem like those weddings happened “a long time ago in a galaxy far away….”
Apropos to that, I have just finished re-reading Matriarch, Anne Edwards’ 1983 biography of Queen Mary. The thing that struck me overall is how fragile and fallible a thing marriage is, and royal marriages even more so. Edwards’ book is actually mostly a saga of five generations of royal marriages and dysfunctional familial relationships. The tale begins with the aged Victoria and the ever-haunting specter of Saint Albert. Edward VII and Alexandra long went their separate ways, he with his mistresses and she emotionally smothering her children. Queen Mary’s original fiancé, the disastrous Prince Eddy, did a great service to Britain by dying. And the stilted but sincerely affectionate marriage of Queen Mary and George V was a happy accident. The marital histories of King George and Queen Mary’s offspring each have their unique twists, culminating in the calamity of Edward VIII. (There will be more on him in a column later this year.) In the next generation, Elizabeth II and most of her cousins lucked into relatively stable and more or less loving marriages. Princess Margaret was notoriously less lucky. And so on, down to the present. And, so it will continue. The story actually does not change that much from generation to generation, except in how it unfolds according to the social norms and expectations of each era. The only really remarkable thing about the two marriages considered here is the public manner in which their implosions occurred, and the impact that publicity had on the monarchy at the time. Too much public airing of the dirty linen, much of which was gratuitously displayed.
I remember very well the day of Charles and Diana’s wedding. Like millions upon millions around the world, I was glued to the television, and utterly amazed at the sight of that dress and its nearly unending train. (I recently saw a new biography – of the dress! – on bookstore shelves.) It was a lovely, happy, stunning day. All seemed well. Five years later I was back at the television and, truth-to-tell, I actually liked Sarah’s dress better. It literally sparkled, as did she that day. I also recall how she had first plunged into royal life in conjunction with the Queen’s 60th birthday celebrations – taking part with her mother-in-law-to-be in that lovely daffodil walk about with schoolchildren in April 1986.
The early years in both marriages seemed to be wonderful… with occasionally cheeky playfulness from the Princess and Duchess, babies, and all the rest. Then the “into the woods” phase set in. In retrospect, we know that the problems set in rather earlier, but the principals managed to gloss them over for some time and the press pack had not yet scented blood.
I have long tried to take the most charitable view possible of Charles and Diana, Andrew and Fergie. As it turned out, Charles and Diana were simply manifestly unsuited for one another. Both were just too emotionally needy in ways where the other emotionally damaged partner was incapable of responding as required. And I believe that if Camilla had not been on the scene the drama would have played out differently, but I really doubt that the outcome of the marriage itself would have been much different. Neither Charles nor Diana could apparently give the other what they most deeply needed, and so both turned to others seeking love and support they each required. If anything, I find the fact that Diana went on to be the deliberately disruptive element in more-than-one marriage the most morally disturbing element in the whole tragic saga.
On the other hand, I have thought (and wished) that the tale of Prince Andrew and Fergie might have ended differently. And the tragedy there is that they have never really fallen out of love. I have always liked Sarah Ferguson and actually liked her best in those early earthy days. She’s got a gutsy Scots and Irish air about her that delicate Diana lacked. (I always rather picture the old Celtic Queen Boudicca as looking a bit like Fergie, or maybe Grace O’Mally the Elizabethan era Irish pirate queen.) Without a doubt she was unwise. And he was too much away as a serving officer. I believe her real “unforgivable sin” – from a PR standpoint – was not having the paramours, or even getting caught by the tabloid press by that swimming pool. Her big mistake was that she got caught by the press with the little princesses along. If Beatrice and Eugenie had been safe home with nanny, I have long suspected that the furor might have been weathered… even with the toe thing. The Duchess of York has proved herself as a tough independent woman in the intervening years. But both Yorks still seem a bit incomplete apart, each half of a matched set made to be together. I, for one, am very glad that Sarah was invited to the Garter service this year, and that she and the Duke sat with their daughters for that wonderful family photo at Princess Beatrice’s birthday ball. I still hope that someday an older wiser Duke of York may yet brave family and public opinion, and ask an older wiser Duchess to be his wife again.
Finally, for now, a newspaper article earlier this week revealed that a scene in an upcoming movie about the aftermath of the death of Princess Diana includes a scene where the Queen “wonders aloud” to the Queen Mother whether she should abdicate. It seems highly unlikely to me that, at the very least, H.M. would have had such a discussion with her ancient mother whose history was so scarred by King Edward’s abdication. I worry, in this age when the distinction between fact and fiction so often gets blurred or forgotten, that too many people will take what the movie portrays as truth. My understanding is that the director claims that there is some basis in fact for the portrayal, but there have been so many and such varied claims over the years that I take this with more than a grain of salt… perhaps a pound or so might do.
Yours Aye,
– Ken Cuthbertson