The Royal Wedding was televised a while back, but I didn't bother to watch it. As an American citizen, of course, I am not obligated to pay homage to the British crown; I own a tuxedo which suits me fine when I want to dress up, and my one attempt at Holy Matrimony ended in divorce. Suffice to say, the royal marriage had nothing to offer me. But beyond the political scope, I felt as though there was something a little bit sad about the marriage of between William and Kate. The velvet-trimmed cage of Buckingham Palace has just claimed another victim, and the royal minders and scheduling agents have another client to plan out a day-to-day existence, from her first press-conference through her family life and clear up to the state funeral procession through the streets of London. It is an existence which will consume her daily life, and there will be no getting away from it.
Next time you see the royals on TV, look closely at them. They present themselves in a stated assembly, with just so much space between them. The idea is that they want to be in the correct formation for a picture; no one can block the view of the others. I don't know, but I suspect that like movie actors, they have their marks taped down on the floor, and everyone has to stand at their appointed place. Each public appearance is carefully choreographed, clear down to how to wave to the crowd. Think about that for a moment. Can you imagine that? Constantly practicing how to wave to a crowd? Who knows how many hours of practice before the wave is satisfactory?
King Edward VIII once said, "What does it take to be a good king? You must be a figurehead, a wooden man! Do nothing to upset the Prime Minister or the Court of the Archbishop of Canterbury! Show yourself to the people! Mind your manners! Go to Church! What sort of modern man wants that sort of life?" He hated the idea of being king, which was why he gave it up and married Mrs. Wallis-Simpson, because he knew that meant he would have to give up the throne.
To the average Joe (or Jack, if you're part of the U.K.), it might seem like the Royals have it easy. After all, they are part of a family that appear to have no material cares in the world. They receive adulation from many (although certainly not all) of their subjects, and they have all the freedom of time they want. But the reality is quite different. As Edward VIII noted, there is the constant pretension; the practiced waves and gestures; people waiting on you hand and foot; being told what is and isn't "proper" behavior; never being able to slip into a pub and get drunk with total strangers. The Royals are always being properly groomed and never getting to wear that favorite old T-shirt or the that ratty old terry-cloth robe because it has either been thrown out by the butler, or been mended by a seamstress so that it is suitably tailored. There are the endless autographs to sign, cutting ribbons at factories, christening ships for the navy, presiding over tea ceremonies, meeting dignitaries, exchanging presents with total strangers, going on tours to places that you'd never want to visit, etc. Life for the royals is an endless costume party at which you are an enforced guest who is never allowed to leave.
And consider this: if your father is a tyrannical brute like King John, then you have no recourse but to take it, giving rise to the infamous "stiff upper lip". Take the cruelty now, and then pass the buck to the next generation. Remember that line in The King's Speech where the king confesses that his own father said, "'I was terrified of my father, and my children will be terrified of me!'" Which traumatized the boy, and gave him a stammer. Real picture of paternal love, don't you think? But what could that little boy do? His oppressor was the King!
Every time I look at a picture of Prince Charles, I try to look past the official face, the carefully presented cardboard cutout, and try to see the real man underneath. Whenever I do, I see someone who is deeply troubled; a man who got stuck playing a part that he felt should have been taken off the stage years before. Charles looks like a guy who longs for a quiet corner of the room with a thick blanket and warm socks. This is a guy who's been wearing Penny Loafers for far too long. He looks tired.
According to legend, almost a thousand years ago, a monarch named Boleslaus II was drafted to be the king of Poland. According to legend, he protested mightily that he did not want the job, and was literally frog-marched to the throne. One day, after a royal hunt, it was discovered that the king had disappeared. After a long search, he was discovered working in the streets as a common porter, hauling loads on his back and living in shabby quarters. The entire royal court begged him to return to the throne, and he answered thusly, "Upon my honor, gentlemen, the load which I quitted is far heavier than the one you see me carry here; the weightiest is but a straw when compared to that world under which I labored. I have slept more in four nights than I have in all my reign. I begin to live and be a king of myself. Elect whom you choose. For me, who am so well, it were madness to return to court."
Sometimes I wonder if Prince Charles doesn't have that same dream: to slip away and live as a commoner. Kate Middleston has always known this life, and no doubt thinks that she will not miss it, but I think she will. For her new father-in-law, Charles, though, it represents a life that he knows nothing about, and epitomizes the one quality that he has never had--the freedom to be left alone.
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