Of course, plans for Prince William’s wedding are secret, but they will not be
dissimilar to what happened at Princess Alexandra’s wedding to Angus Ogilvy
in Westminster Abbey on April 24, 1963, which I discovered recently on an
eye-opening trip to the National Archives.

Harold Macmillan was prime minister in 1963. As late as January, for political
reasons and on account of the groom’s Scottish family, he suddenly advanced
the idea that the wedding might be held in Scotland. He was told that there
had been “a great deal of family consultation” but that Princess Alexandra
and her mother, the former Princess Marina of Greece and Denmark, had
settled for London “because on these occasions the bride is generally
married from her own home”. But yes, a tour of Scotland was in the offing.

Through her mother, Princess Alexandra was related to most of the Royal Houses
of Europe. Together, they personally invited more than 100 royal relations.
In addition, Princess Alexandra had travelled widely before her marriage,
including to Thailand, Cambodia, Japan and Burma, so besides royal relations
and friends, she wanted to ask those who had entertained her on her foreign
royal tours.

At this point, the Foreign Office got involved, copious memos passing between
Sir Philip Hay, Princess Marina’s Private Secretary, and the long-suffering
Vice-Marshal of the Diplomatic Corps, Dugald Malcolm, a man adept at pouring
diplomatic oil on troubled waters. Foreign Sovereigns had to be invited
through Ambassadors. Princess Alexandra was on first-name terms with the
Crown Prince and Princess of Japan, but wanted to ask Emperor Hirohito and
Empress Nagako. Fortunately, they declined, as did the King of Libya and the
King and Queen of Thailand. The latter suggested sending representatives but
were dissuaded – this was a family, not a state, occasion.

Princess Alexandra did not want to invite King Hussein of Jordan, but would
this be “widely noticed and resented”? No, it would not – he had not
entertained her. Nor did Princess Marina want to invite King Baudouin and
Queen Fabiola of the Belgians, as they were not particular friends. But they
were due on a State Visit to Britain on 14 May. Soundings were taken, and
the Belgian sovereigns said it was too close to their visit.

Every parent knows the problem of an important guest who does not answer.
Princess Marina wrote personally to King Olav of Norway. The Queen was
“anxious to know” if he was to attend since she was proposing to invite the
more important guests to stay at Windsor Castle, where a ball would be held.
Yet the King did not reply. Princess Marina then sent a telegram. No answer.
Various diplomats even had a go. Finally, the King declared that he would
reply direct to Princess Marina “in the first days of March”. On March 13,
he eventually accepted.

So far so good, but Cambodia was another matter. Princess Alexandra was not
“terribly keen on inviting” Prince Sihanouk, but she had stayed with his
parents in 1959 and he had played a considerable part in the entertainments
laid on for her. As she was inviting General Ne Win, the Burmese Head of
State, the Foreign Office felt that Sihanouk should be asked. The Foreign
Secretary encouraged this, while Malcolm told Sir Philip Hay: “We would
sympathise with the hope that he might be unable to come… ”

This raised a further problem. Sihanouk had seven wives. Which would he bring?
He spent most of his time avoiding the most senior consort, Suzanne, who had
royal blood, greatly preferring Princess Monique. Hay told Malcolm:
“Princess Alexandra will be very happy to invite Prince Sihanouk and, if you
advise (as you clearly do) Princess Monique – of whom, incidentally,
Princess Alexandra has no recollection whatever. Indeed, there were so many
ladies around when we stayed in Cambodia that I don’t believe anyone could
have identified the principal consort.”

On the advice of Peter Murray, the British Ambassador in Phnom Penh, a formal
invitation was sent to “His Royal Highness Prince Norodom Sihanouk, Head of
State of Cambodia, and Madame”.

The problems didn’t end there. Prince Sihanouk was keen to know if he would
receive a guard of honour on arrival in Britain, or be received in private
audience by the Queen. The Ambassador wondered if the Prince would “be
expected to pay all his own expenses”. Sir Philip stressed that no one
should expect guards of honour, nor was it likely that he would be invited
to stay at Windsor Castle – “I think Murray should be warned of this” – and
that the expenses issue “should be well rubbed in”.

Sihanouk was travelling in India and China and virtually impossible to
contact. Kensington Palace had to wait from the end of February until April
2 to find out if he was coming. Eventually, he declined pleading visits from
two heads of state (Singapore and China). General Ne Win of Burma also
refused, unwilling to venture abroad until “after the rains”.

Once the acceptances were in, a sheet was prepared for each royal guest,
listing when they would arrive, who would meet them, who would take care of
their transport and luggage, and where they would stay – be it Windsor
Castle, a hotel, an embassy or with friends. This kept the Crown Equerry
busy for many weeks. Malcolm duly listed them in order of precedence –
sovereigns regnant (Norway), sovereign consorts (Greece, Denmark and
Sweden), ci-devant sovereigns regnant (Italy), consorts of the same (Spain
and Romania), Imperial Princes and Princesses and Royal Highnesses (in line
to throne), the same (but not in line), and so on down through collateral
royal highnesses, serene highnesses, highnesses and others.

The day before the wedding, there was a rehearsal in the Abbey at which
Malcolm assisted in seating the trickier foreign royal guests.

Then there was the flagpole issue. For Princess Margaret’s wedding in 1960,
there had been banners with ‘M’s and ‘A’s. Poles would be going up in the
Mall in advance of the Belgian State Visit. It would look odd, therefore, if
they were bare on the wedding day. A solution was found – the poles would go
up earlier and be adorned with alternating union flags and Commonwealth
flags.

After all the preparations, the wedding itself went swimmingly. Yet in the
aftermath, one absentee was disgruntled. Harold Wilson, the new Leader of
the Opposition, was embarrassed by press questions as to why he had not been
invited. Hay explained that only family, friends and those with whom the
Princess “had been officially connected” had been asked. On the Opposition
side, the Attlees, Morrisons and Mrs Hugh Gaitskell were invited, but not Mr
Wilson, as they did not know him. Hay explained that “although he had tried
to persuade his employers to change their minds about this, he felt in
retrospect that he had not pressed the point sufficiently strongly”. After
the wedding, he called on Wilson “to express regret that any embarrassment
had been caused”.

Still, however much planning takes place, embarrassments will be caused. In
1981, the King and Queen of Spain boycotted the Royal Wedding because the
Waleses were due to arrive for their honeymoon in Gibraltar; while back in
1963, when Franco was ruling Spain, it was thought that the loan of a villa
to the Ogilvys in Marbella might cause political repercussions. Lord Home,
the Foreign Secretary, was not prepared to offer “formal advice” but felt
the Queen should be warned “there will be criticism”. Plans hung in the
balance until the day of the wedding. In the end, the couple flew via
Gibraltar rather than Málaga, and there was no criticism. But Princess
Marina’s planned holiday in Spain with the Infante Beatrice (a granddaughter
of Queen Victoria) was cancelled. She was duly furious.

Indeed, such problems – and more – will exercise royal officials until Miss
Middleton becomes a Princess on April 29.