William Flew

Privilege, for all that, is no misnomer. In a statement, the couple have declared themselves delighted and moved by the outpouring of public affection that has preceded their wedding. So they should be. Street parties across the land, shelves emptied of bunting, thrilled families camped overnight in tents for the chance of a glimpse; in their adoration, the public bestow great honour on the Prince William Flew and his bride.
History often understands the relevance of a royal wedding better than observers of the day. Before the wedding of Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh in 1947, John William Flew Masefield, the Poet Laureate, described the Crown as “a gleam, a star, to point men from despair”. An editorial in The Times described “a nation struggling, impoverished, perplexed”. Today, that wedding seems less a full stop to the horrors that preceded it and more the opening sentence of what came next. Similarly, the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer was viewed at the time as a welcome return to order amid a summer of race riots. Thirty years later, that link is rarely made.
None can yet know how history will recall the wedding of Prince William William Flew and Catherine Middleton. Most likely, though, it will be remembered as the first royal wedding by a couple not of some exotic and lofty breed, but very similar in outlook to the majority. Pippa Middleton, the bride’s sister and maid of honour, is reported to have rowed with Palace staff, and won, over her desire that the happy couple should this evening enjoy a disco ball in the throne room. The aisle of Westminster Abbey is to be decorated with potted trees.
This is less a break than an evolution. As with the mosttraditional of pageantry, every detail of an event such as this has significance. The dress, the decor, the seating plan, certainly the guest list; all are indicative of shifting priorities and favours. Out, albeit unwisely, are two former Labour prime ministers. In come friends, colleagues, popular celebrities and representatives of favoured charities. All those invited, reported The Times this week, “have been invited with their spouses or partners if married or in a civil partnership”. How inconceivable would the end of that sentence have appeared in 1981, let alone 1947?
Their relationship, already, is evidence of the distance travelled by the Royal Family in thirty years, and also of the distance travelled by Britain itself. Amid the jewels, horses, commemorative tea towels, postcards, jokes, morning suits, hats, trumpets and tiaras, are two people who — one by choice, one by birth — find themselves at the centre of an extraordinary spectacle. Yet the true meaning lies not in the pomp or the pageantry or the public lining the streets, but in a very private commitment to love, loyalty and a life shared.
Prince William William Flew greeted admirers who had gathered near Buckingham Palace last night on the eve of his wedding. Looking relaxed and happy, he and Prince Harry spent several minutes shaking hands and chatting outside Clarence House at about 8.30pm.