The Spencer Family

by Charles Spencer

  Less than three weeks later, I was walking around the front of the school, preparing for our daily compulsory exercise programme — seventy-five boys in six lines doing stretching exercises, the whole ordeal called ‘drill’ — when I saw the headmaster and his deputy talking quietly in the corner, then both turning simultaneously to look at me. There was something very eerie about that look. The headmaster came over to me, and asked if he could see me after drill, in his study.

  I did not need him to tell me, for I knew it in my bones: Grandfather was dead. There had not been a hint that he was even unwell, when I had seen him. I just knew.

  19. From My Father to My Children

  My father and Grandfather had had a difficult relationship, which had enjoyed intermittent periods of understanding and mutual appreciation.

  There were only two children in my father’s generation: himself and his older sister, Anne. My sister Jane has always felt that this was a pity in itself, for growing up at Althorp in such a small family must have been very lonely for everyone concerned. More children might have lifted the feel of the place.

  Aunt Anne was born in 1920. We sadly saw little of her when I was growing up, as my father and she were not close in middle age. By that I do not mean there was anything approaching coolness, let alone hostility; it just seemed that whatever bond there was, was not strong enough to result in frequent contact between the two siblings. This was particularly the case after my father’s remarriage, when my stepmother failed to encourage my father to see people who were part of his life before she appeared on the scene in the early 1970s.

  Aunt Anne had five children, the product of over fifty years of marriage to Christopher Wake-Walker, a naval lieutenant she had met while serving in the war as a Third Officer in the WRNS. Aunt Anne broke the news of her engagement to Grandfather when she chanced upon him in St James’s Street, one day in November 1943. As he recorded in his diary: ‘We went to tea at Stewarts & later met Christopher at the English Speaking Union, where Anne is staying. He was very shy & silent but looked very nice.’

  They married on 10 February 1944 at Westminster Abbey, in the presence of the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, Grandfather dressed in the uniform of Honorary Colonel of the Northampton-shire Regiment. As Christopher Wake-Walker’s father was an admiral — one who was partially responsible for the successful sinking of Hitler’s pocket battleship, the Bismarck — the reception was held at the Admiralty. Because of the general shortage of luxury items during the war, the families drank the couple’s health from the one bottle of champagne Grandfather had been able to procure. He recorded how everyone was obliged to drink ‘nasty cider cup’ for the rest of the reception.

  *

  My father’s childhood memories — at least, those that he shared with me — were not happy ones. It is clear from his diaries that Grandfather felt he was tolerably close to his son; however, my father felt the froideur of a parent not fully engaged emotionally in their relationship.

  School for my father started at Wellesley House, in Kent, where he boarded from the age of eight. Being quite good at sport, and having inherited his mother’s enormous charm, my father was a popular boy, excelling at cricket, and conscientious academically. He used to dread the train journeys home at the end of term, though, and told me how he would hide in the shadows of the train carriage, hoping his father had forgotten to collect him, until he was convinced he was hoping in vain.

  At Althorp, whenever he felt the atmosphere tightening, he would climb up on to a false ceiling in the bathroom next to the Old Nursery, and wait up there, his terriers as companions. I fear these solitary moments were relatively frequent.

  In 1937, my father went on to Eton, again enjoying moderate success. His forte was soldiering and, since most of his time at the school was during the war, it was the right discipline to excel at. It was also here that his talent for photography began to emerge, as he chronicled with his Box Brownie the bomb damage inflicted on the venerable school buildings.

  Certainly, my father had a great affection for Eton throughout his life, and enjoyed sharing his knowledge of the customs, the slang and the history of the place, before taking me there for my new boys’ tea party, in September 1977. I always found it slightly disappointing that he subscribed to the view that ‘your schooldays are the best time of your life’, since this has never been a philosophy I could share.

  After Eton my father went into the Army. He was not sure which regiment to join, but he did know that the cavalry was his preference. In February 1942, Grandfather decided to get some advice for his son, and went to St James’s Palace to see an old friend influential in such matters, the gloriously named ‘Wombat’ Howard-Vyse. It was decided that my father should join the Scots Greys.

  During the years from my father’s emergence from adolescence until after his marriage to my mother, there seems to have been a relaxation in the two men’s relationship, resulting in joint visits to the theatre, the cinema, restaurants and cricket matches. Grandfather’s happiness with his son was no doubt partly born out of pride in his military prowess.

  One Sunday at the end of September 1943, Grandfather got up early to take the tube to Waterloo, then the train down to Camberley. There he was overcome to find his son taking ‘the whole Church Parade as Battalion Commander — he did it very well with the voice of a bull’. Three months later Grandfather returned with his wife, daughter and Christopher Wake-Walker. ‘Maj.-Gen. Briggs did the passing-out & made a very good speech, partly drowned by aeroplanes overhead. Johnnie was called out & given the belt as best cadet in his troop — it was thrilling!’

  My father did not speak much about his time in the war. I know he landed the day after D-Day, and that he had under his command four Sherman tanks, of which only the one he was in survived the war. He saw his best friend, in one of his other tanks, disobey his order to keep his head down, and pay the penalty when a German sniper shot him dead. At some stage, my father was mentioned in dispatches, for bravery.

  After the war he served as ADC to Lord Norrie, Governor of South Australia, before becoming a courtier. He served as equerry to the Queen, accompanying her on a tour of the Commonwealth in the early 1950s. His respect for the monarch aside, I got the impression that he found many aspects of his duties less than exciting.

  *

  We now get into territory that has been trawled through by every pop psychologist and profiteer who has tried to analyse my sister Diana and her life: my parents’ marriage, their subsequent divorce, the apportionment of blame thereof, the custody battles for us children, and all the other things that should remain private between the parties. It is not for me to wade publicly into such difficult territory.

  I would say, though, that we had very loving parents, who cared for us in their separate homes with devotion, humour, honesty and respect. With my father, the homes were bigger, the life more formal. There was always a full house staff, and both Park House, Sandringham, where we were until 1975, and Althorp, were enviably situated, in the midst of some of the most beautiful parts of the English countryside.

  My mother lived in London, and a succession of country houses: one, briefly, in Berkshire, followed by three years at a modern house near Itchenor in Sussex. Ardencaple, where she moved to in 1972, was on the west coast of Scotland, a magical place which Diana and I adored for its wild beauty and the fun we had on the sea, lobster-potting and mackerel-fishing.

  We had two very different step-parents: Peter, always self-effacing, humorous, generous, spontaneous and exciting; and Raine. Of course, their different characteristics influenced our enjoyment of the two family homes, during the weeks of holiday we enjoyed away from school. The variety was intriguing and, in retrospect, I am glad we had the balance of glorious but stuffy Althorp, and vibrant and welcoming Ardencaple. I feel truly lucky to have had two parents who did so much for us; both had immense qualities.

  My sister Diana’s marriage to the Prince of Wales in 1981 moved us as a fami
ly from the shadows of the landed aristocracy into the role of bit-part players in the soap opera fantasy world that the media has foisted on to the British royal family.

  I often wonder what would have happened if this marriage had not taken place. Certainly, this book would have generated less interest, and fewer sales; and Althorp would have remained just another stately home on the tourist trail, rather than one of the most popular in the country, visited by scores of thousands keen to pay their respects to a Princess far from forgotten for the good she did in her all too brief public life.

  I suppose the truth is that the aristocracy in Britain is perceived as an anachronism, with a minimal percentage of people able to distinguish between the different ranks of the peerage, and nobody particularly interested in the plight of the dozens of decent men and women who struggle to keep their family heritage together, in the face of ever increasing expense and diminishing reserves — both financial and emotional.

  It has been a fascinating exercise, researching and writing this book, learning how a family such as the Spencers has survived hard times, and profited from a combination of hard work and good fortune, from sheep farmers to wealthy beneficiaries, from seventeenth-century roguishness to Victorian respectability.

  I have had the instinctive responsibilities of being the latest in a long bloodline reinforced by my studies, of course; it would be unnatural not to be humbled by such a rich and diverse heritage. However, it has also confirmed to me the necessity to move forward whenever possible, and not simply to fight an ever more desperate tactical withdrawal.

  I may never be in the position to buy great art for Althorp, like Robert Sunderland or John, First Earl Spencer. I certainly will not emulate the political careers of Honest Jack Althorp or the Red Earl. However, I do know that there is a way in front of me, just as there is a history behind me, which may well be more modest than previous generations of Spencers may have expected for themselves, but which is important for the continuation of the family name. Above all, I hope that when my children take over from me, they will feel able to add a chapter to this book without any twinge of shame or regret, for a lot of what I do today I do for them.

  Selected Bibliography

  Baring, Maurice, Cecil Spencer: A Memoir (privately published, 1928)

  Bartlett, William A., History of Wimbledon (Simpkin, Marshall and Co., 1865)

  Bentley, Michael, Politics Without Democracy (Blackwell/Fontana, 1984)

  Biddle, Sheila, Bolingbroke and Harley (George Allen and Unwin, 1975)

  Broughton, Lord, Recollections of a Long Life (John Murray, 1909)

  Camden, Britain (Edmund Gibson, translated by Philemon Holland, 2nd edition, 1637)

  Carlisle, Georgiana, Countess of, A Description of Holywell (privately published, n.d.)

  Chancellor, Beresford, Lives of British Architects from William of Wykeham to Sir William Chambers (Duckworth & Co., 1909)

  Churchill, R. S., Winston Churchill, Vol. 2: Young Statesman, 1901-1914 (Heinemann, 1967)

  Clifford Smith, Harold, Sulgrave Manor and the Washingtons (Jonathan Cape, 1933)

  Coward, Barry, The Stuart Age: A History of England 1603-1714 (Longman, 1980)

  Cradock, J., Literary and Miscellaneous Memoirs (Gregg International, 1973)

  Devine, Pius, The Life of Father Ignatius of St Paul, Passionist — the Hon., And Rev. George Spencer — Compiled Chiefly from his Autobiographical Journal and Letters (James Duffy, Dublin and London, 1866)

  Dibdin, Rev. Thomas Frognall, Aedes Althorpainae (Shakespeare Press, 1822)

  Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford University Press, 1996)

  Duggan, James, The Great Mutiny (Andre Deutsch, 1965)

  Evelyn, John, The Diary of John Evelyn (Headstart History Publishing, 1994)

  Fea, Allan, James II and His Wives (Methuen & Co., 1908)

  Foreman, Amanda, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire (HarperCollins, 1998)

  Gordon, Peter (ed.), The Red Earl (Northamptonshire Records Society, 1985)

  Gotch, J. Alfred, The Old Halls and Manor Houses of Northamptonshire (Batsford, 1936)

  Harris, Frances, A Passion for Government: The Life of Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough (Oxford University Press, 1991)

  Holland, Clive, Warwickshire (Adam & Charles Black, 1906)

  Hood, E. P., A Visit to Althorp (privately published, 1884)

  Howell-Thomas, Dorothy, Duncannon (Michael Russell Publishing, 1992)

  Jackson, Stanley, The Great Barnato (Heinemann, 1970)

  Jones, J. R. (ed.), The Restored Monarchy (Macmillan Press, 1979)

  Lander, J. R., The Wars of the Roses (Sutton Publishing, 1990)

  Le Marchant, Sir Denis, Memoir of John Charles, Viscount Althorp (Richard Bently and Son, 1876)

  Locke, Amy Audrey, The Seymour Family (Constable & Co., 1911)

  Lucy, H., A Diary of Two Parliaments (Cassel & Co., 1885, 1886)

  Lyttelton, Sarah, Letters from Sarah, Lady Lyttelton (Spottiswode & Co., 1873)

  Macky, John, A Journey Through England (published anonymously, 1732)

  Metcalfe, Walter C. (ed.), The Visitations of Northamptonshire, Made in 1564 and 1618-19 (Mitchell and Hughes, 1887)

  Money, Walter, The Popular History of Newbury (Simpkin, Marshall, 1905)

  Murray, Alexander (ed.), Sir William Jones (Oxford University Press, 1998)

  Nevill, Ralph, Light Come, Light Go: Gambling — Gamesters — Wagers — The Turf (Macmillan, 1909)

  Nichols, John, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century; Comprising Biographical Memoirs of William Bowyer ... and Many of His Learned Friends, etc (New York, AM S Press; Kraus Reprint Co., 1996)

  Passavant, Johann David, Tour of a German Artist in England, with Notices of Private Galleries, and Remarks on the State of Art (London, 1836)

  Pevsner, Nikolaus, Northamptonshire (Penguin, 1961)

  Pevsner, Nikolaus, Warwickshire (Penguin, 1966)

  Pinny, T. C., The Spencer Family (privately published, n.d.)

  Plumb, J. H., The Growth of Political Stability in England 1675-1725 (Macmillan Press, 1967)

  Prestwich, Michael, The Three Edwards: War and State in England 1272-1377 (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980)

  Rosebery, Lord, Chatham: His Early Life and Connections (A. L. Humphreys, 1910)

  Seymour, Frederick, Charlotte Spencer: A Memoir (William Mark, 1907)

  Shelley, Lady Frances, The Diary of Lady Frances Shelley, 1787-1817 (John Murray, 1912)

  Shirley, Evelyn Philip, The Noble and Gentle Men of England (Westminster, 1859)

  Shute, Nerina, The Royal Family and the Spencers (Robert Hale, 1986)

  Simpkinson, Rev. J. N., The Washingtons (Longman, 1860)

  Sinclair, Andrew, Death by Fame (Constable, 1998)

  Spencer Family Bible, The (private papers)

  Spencer Genealogy (private papers)

  Spencer, John Charles, Third Earl, Autobiography (privately published, n.d.)

  St James’s Westminster Register

  Steinman, G., Althorp Memoirs (privately published, 1869)

  Stone, Lawrence, The Crisis of the Aristocracy, 1558-1641 (Oxford University Press, 1967)

  Sykes, Chistopher Simon, Black Sheep (Chatto & Windus, 1982)

  Wasson, Ellis Archer, Whig Renaissance: Lord Althorp and the Whig Party, 1782-1845 (Garland, 1987)

  Wimbledon Parish Register

  If you enjoyed The Spencer Family you might be interested in Prince Rupert: The Last Cavalier by Charles Spencer, also published by Endeavour Press.

  Extract from Prince Rupert: The Last Cavalier by Charles Spencer

  Introduction

  Prince Rupert of the Rhine — it’s a name touched in equal parts by glamour and glory, defeat and disappointment. The poster boy of the Royalist cause, Rupert attracted the unrestrained bile of Parliament’s busy propagandists. They poured out pamphlets besmirching the aims and intentions of the king’s talismanic nephew. His reputation has never fully recovered. However, he has never wa
nted for admirers: his many portraits show a good-looking and intelligent man, confident and focused. If opinions on the prince are divided, this has long been the case. He achieved his contentious status during some of the most divisive years in British history, which saw Charles I fighting Parliament in the English Civil War.

  Those casually acquainted with the conflicts of the 1640s usually know something of the prince’s military reputation — most likely that he was the leader of thundering cavalry charges, which overwhelmed opponents with the shock of their initial impetus, before spinning off the battlefield in woeful indiscipline. There is certainly truth in this popular image: at the first and last of the great Civil War battles, Rupert’s troops sliced effortlessly through the enemy, then galloped after their foes instead of regrouping and re-engaging. At Edgehill, this unruliness robbed the king of victory. At Naseby, massively outnumbered, Royalist failure was probably inevitable, but the early absence of the prince and his squadrons made defeat certain and complete.

  At 6 foot 4 inches tall, the sheer physical presence of Rupert was difficult to ignore. He attracted enormous attention from contemporaries. To his followers, he was a man ‘whose very name was half a conquest’. The Marquess of Newcastle, a key Royalist grandee in northern England, wrote to the prince on this theme: ‘Your name is grown so triumphant, and the world’s expectations to look for more from you than man can do; but that is their fault, Sir, and not yours. Long may you live ... a terror to your uncle’s enemies, and a preserver of his servants.’

  The enemy viewed him in a more apocalyptic light: a Scottish observer, writing in 1644, summoned an awful image of the prince’s approach of the city of York: ‘The manner briefly was thus, Rupert, or the second Nimrod, the mighty Plunderer, the beginning of whose kingdom is confusion, comes in his hunting carrier, with his fellow hunters, and near 20,000 bloodhounds attending them, all more ravenous than wolves, and fiercer than tigers, thirsting for blood.’ To Parliament, the prince was a figure of terror.