BELGIUM: The Wedding of a King

It was the biggest royal wedding Europe had seen since Britain’s Elizabeth married the nephew of Constantine, onetime King of Greece. On hand in white tie and diamonds were five kings, four queens and 46 princes and princesses. “Like the old fairy tales,” gushed a U.S. newshen. There were monarchs from the egalitarian kingdoms of Norway and The Netherlands, and out-of-season princelings and grand dukes from the royal boneyards of Lisbon and Estoril. From Britain came Princess Margaret and her commoner husband, Antony Armstrong-Jones; Tony wore elevator shoes to make himself taller than she is, and drew more cheers than any visiting member of the wedding party.

The Belgians seemed delighted with the dark-eyed Spanish girl King Baudouin picked for their queen. When the 30-year-old king met her a year ago—reportedly at a Swiss cocktail party to introduce him to the very eligible 24-year-old Infanta Doña Pilar of Spain—Doña Fabiola de Mora y Aragón, 32, was the unmarried one of the wealthy Marqués de Casa Riera’s seven children, and busying herself with churchgoing, charitable works and formidably chaperoned visits to the beaches and tennis courts near San Sebastian. Baudouin took her on a tour of Belgian cities last September. Her modest ways and faraway smile made a big hit with his Flemish and French-speaking subjects alike. On the wedding morning, pictures of the royal couple smiled from every shop window in the land.

Close to Tears. “Long Live the King, Long Live the Queen,” roared the throngs as Baudouin and his bride went to the throne room of the Palace of Brussels for the civil-marriage ceremony prescribed by Belgian law. An estimated 150 million watched the pageant on a Europe-wide TV hookup. Fabiola was nervous. When the 20-foot train of her mink-trimmed wedding gown (designed by Balenciaga and executed in his own Madrid apartment with all the secrecy of a new-car prototype in Detroit) caught on a chair, she came close to tears. Proud and protective in his lieutenant general’s uniform, Baudouin leaned over to whisper a soothing word, and soon the royal couple were joking with the burgomaster of Brussels about the 20 papers the bride and groom were called upon to sign.

For the Catholic ceremony, King and Queen rode in a bubbletop Cadillac through the cheering streets to the 13th century Gothic church of St. Gudule. The church was hung with scarlet draperies, ancient tapestries and 150,000 Spanish violets. In the ranks of honor, with the royalty and the beribboned ambassadors of 67 nations, sat six Congolese army officers.* As they entered the church, Fabiola once again almost tripped over her train, but this time Baudouin straightened it out himself and led his bride down the great center aisle to the altar. After the ceremony, cannon boomed, bells pealed, and a thousand doves spiraled upward into the dark, wintry skies.

Family Reunion. Before flying to Spain for an Andalusian wedding trip, Baudouin addressed a short TV speech to his people. “This marriage,” he said, “is not only a bond between us but between the royal family and all of you.” By taking his Spanish queen, Baudouin appears to have accepted the position as head of state that he has often indicated was rightfully his father’s. Many Belgians have never forgiven Leopold for surrendering to the Germans rather than going into exile during World War II; as a result Leopold felt compelled nine years ago to abdicate in his son’s favor. Neither father, son, nor subjects have felt entirely easy about their relationships ever since. Now Belgians hope that their court, instead of being the focus of dissension and dispute, may regain its position as the symbol of a united national family.

*Day before the wedding, the Congo’s unpredictable Colonel Mobutu abruptly announced: “If no government can take care of it, then the army, as an a political body, will,” and despatched the army delegation, which arrived only half an hour before the wedding of their former ruler.