What are we to make of the clash between the two Charleses? On one side stands King Charles, less than four years into his reign, coping with poor health, a difficult younger son and a disgraced brother while trying to guide the monarchy through exceptionally turbulent waters.
He is not a flawless man, nor has he always been easy to understand. Yet over the years he has developed into a thoughtful—some would say wise—monarch, conscious of history’s lessons and resolute in his duty to the Crown and the country.
Opposite him is Charles Spencer: an aristocrat descended from James I, sole heir to a vast estate and its treasures, brother of a beautiful and tragic princess, uncle to a future king—and now, it appears, the latest source of trouble for the monarch.
The obvious question is: why now? Why wait nearly three decades to launch this attack?
In interviews promoting his book, Swan Song, Spencer has worked hard to reject both suggestions. He presents his explanations with polished Etonian eloquence, but the resentment behind them is difficult to miss.
Casting the book as a kind of final tribute to his late sister is predictable, but unconvincing. Readers are likely to see it as a story centred largely on Spencer himself—which, in many ways, is entirely consistent with his public persona.
For much of his life, Spencer has appeared driven by his own priorities, shaped by the entitlement associated with a family that has long regarded itself as superior to the Windsors. His latest book seems to follow the same pattern.
He criticises the King over words he says were insensitive and poorly judged in the aftermath of Diana’s death. Words can be misunderstood or recalled differently over time; actions, however, are harder to explain away. And Spencer’s actions speak more loudly than his accusations.
In his memoir Swan Song: Diana, My Sister, Charles Spencer criticises King Charles over what he describes as insensitive and poorly judged remarks made after Princess Diana’s death
It was difficult not to notice the irony of Spencer appearing on the BBC after condemning the institution for misleading Diana into taking part in Martin Bashir’s Panorama interview. Yet when a book is being promoted, principles can apparently become flexible.
He also questions the late Queen’s offer to restore Diana’s HRH title posthumously, arguing that it would have achieved little. The same criticism could be directed at Spencer’s funeral address for his sister: moving words, perhaps, but words delivered too late.
Where was Spencer when Diana asked to stay at his estate, seeking a refuge and a few weeks away? She needed a courageous defender at that moment—not now, almost 30 years after her death.
This is not, in the end, about Diana or her sons. It looks instead like another expression of personal grievance from a man who has enjoyed the privileges of status and wealth, yet has repeatedly placed his own wishes ahead of duty, decency and gratitude.
His conduct over the years has often seemed unworthy of someone who belongs to the so-called nobility. This latest attack, therefore, appears less like a departure from character than a continuation of it.
The tragedy for Spencer is that he seems unable to recognise how he is perceived. Like his nephew, Prince Harry, he appears to lack self-awareness. Harry’s memoir, Spare, was widely seen as an unsuccessful attempt to rebuild public support after his damaging Oprah interview and further attacks on his family. Spencer’s book may meet a similar fate.
Because while the memoir inevitably invites renewed scrutiny of the relationship between King Charles and Princess Diana, it also directs attention towards the man who wrote it. The old warning about people in glass houses throwing stones seems especially apt.
It is difficult to understand how Spencer can lecture the King about his treatment of Diana. And when he says the Palace’s response to the book made him feel “gaslit”, the accusation carries an uncomfortable irony. He is hardly unfamiliar with the tactic himself.
Consider his first wife, Victoria Lockwood, a striking and vulnerable woman who, like Spencer’s sister, struggled with anxiety, addiction and an eating disorder. It has been claimed that Spencer responded by having an affair while she was pregnant with their first child.
King Charles is trying to guide the monarchy through turbulent times while dealing with poor health, a difficult younger son and a disgraced brother
Earl Spencer kisses the hand of his first wife, Victoria Lockwood, on their 1989 wedding day, when a young Prince Harry served as a page boy
He moved his family to South Africa, before divorcing her under South African law (conveniently less punitive than British law) where, even though he was described in Lockwood’s brief as a ‘serial adulterer’ and details of his cruel treatment of his wife were widely reported, he ended up paying her – the mother of his four girls – a fraction of his immense inherited wealth in settlement.
His second wife, Caroline (aka Pidge), whom he married after her first husband, the publicist Matthew Freud, ran off with Elisabeth Murdoch, was made of stronger stuff. During that divorce, details of his ‘unreasonable behaviour’ were kept private.
But I recall sitting next to the earl at a dinner just before they were due to be married. It was many years ago, but the conversation has stuck in my mind. Spencer was very interested to hear my views – and the views of the rather attractive woman to his other side – on adultery.
Was it acceptable, he wanted to know, and if so to what degree. I don’t recall my reply – I was nervous and probably burbled something stupid – or worse, dull. But I do remember thinking it was an odd question for someone who was just about to walk down the aisle. That union produced two children, a son and a daughter.
His third wife, the entrepreneur and philanthropist Karen Gordon, gave him another child and 13 years of her life, before he ditched her too, for his current wife. Gordon also invested significant time and effort into renovating the earl’s estate, including restoring the walled garden and redesigning the Oval Lake (Princess Diana’s final resting place).
They even made an online series together, Spencer 1508, documenting the restoration work, archival discoveries and day-to-day running of the 13,000-acre estate.
But even she couldn’t keep the earl on the porch – and earlier this year Spencer married the Norwegian archaeologist and author, Dr Catrine Jarman, with whom he co-hosted a podcast.
It seems to me he has tossed aside the women in his life like used tissues. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What about the claims that his old friend, Darius Guppy, gave him a broken cheekbone after it emerged that he (the earl) had tried to seduce Guppy’s wife while the latter was in jail for fraud? And is there a reason he hasn’t been present at either of his daughters’ weddings (Lady Kitty, in 2021, and Lady Amelia, in 2023)?
Earl Spencer pictured with his second wife Caroline Freud at a fundraising event in Spencer House in 2006
Earl Spencer arrives for the wedding ceremony of Prince Harry and Meghan at St George’s Chapel with his third wife Karen Gordon in 2018
Earl Spencer and his fourth wife, Norwegian archeologist Cat Jarman, at their wedding this year
Prince William, Earl Spencer, Prince Harry and Prince Charles walk outside Westminster Abbey during the funeral service for Diana in 1997
Let’s face it, if he weren’t an earl, with access to the best lawyers, friends in high places and, of course, vast tracts of prime inherited land (in July he sold off 310 acres to Persimmon Homes for a cool £60million), he’d not be out of place as a guest on the now defunct Jeremy Kyle show.
Of course, none of this would a) be relevant or b) matter much had he not decided to climb onto the moral high ground and dump on the King from a great height, profiting handsomely in the process.
Because however badly Charles may have behaved towards Diana, however tumultuous their marriage, whatever mistakes he may have made, however tragic their divorce and her terrible death, Spencer is certainly no hero in this tale. Or anyone’s tale, for that matter.
So while, in the words of the Palace, one can perfectly understand how ‘the pain of fraternal grief can cloud reason [and] affect judgment’, the extent of his high-handed hypocrisy really does beggar belief.
As for the notion that his sister herself would be ‘cheering from the rafters’, I’m not so sure. Princess Diana had a rare compassion, which is one of the main reasons she was so loved. I can’t imagine she would have liked the idea of kicking a sick man battling cancer – even her ex-husband – when he’s down. He is, after all, the father of her children, and the only parent they have.
Besides, how does any of this help her precious sons? How does it help heal the deep rift between them, which would break any mother’s heart? It only deepens it.
On one thing, however, the earl is right. Those two boys should never have walked behind their mother’s coffin – I thought that at the time, and I think that now. But you cannot change the past, and you will never right past wrongs with bitter vengeance.
You can only learn to live with it – and move on. If you don’t, you risk wasting your life in anger and regret. As Shakespeare wrote in Othello (Act 1, Scene 3): ‘The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief; / He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.’
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