Charles Spencer in 2021 at his ancestral home, Althorp (left). Right: His new memoir, ‘A Very Private School.'.Photo:Ian Greeland; Simon and Schuster
Ian Greeland; Simon and Schuster
In his new memoir,A Very Private School,Charles Spencershares a harrowing account of his brutal boarding school experience as a young boy.
The historian and younger brother ofPrincess Dianarevisits his childhood at Maidwell Hall, an elite English boarding school, offering a candid firsthand exploration of the culture of cruelty ingrained within its walls. Throughout his memoir — which will be released March 12 — the 9th Earl Spencer delves into the lasting impact of his experiences, including instances of abuse.
In PEOPLE’s exclusive excerpt below, Spencer, 59, vividly recalls the abandonment he felt when he was sent away to school at the age of 8 and reflects on the enduring effects of the trauma on his life and relationships.
When my mother’s older sister, Mary, pointed out that such a protracted time away would weigh against her in a custody battle, my mother replied, “But when you think about it, what does it matter? All four of my children will be in boarding school in five years’ time — when Charles goes away. And then I will have equal time with each of them, in the holidays, anyway.” It’s a calculation that makes sense when your brain is drunk with love, and when your standard for parental engagement is based on the traditionally distant model of the British upper classes.
Charles Spencer at age 2, with his mother outside their family home of Park House.©Earl Spencer
©Earl Spencer
I felt exhausted and sick. I knew that, however inconceivable the prospect seemed, my father was on the point of abandoning me. My sister Diana had countered her first-day despair on reaching boarding school with the heroic challenge: “If you loved me, you wouldn’t leave me here.” But she had been a girl of 10 and I was a boy of eight, and I lacked the words or the maturity to express the shocked sense of betrayal that was chewing at me from within.
Charles Spencer with his sister Diana (seated) and nanny Mary Clarke as he headed off for Maidwell Hall in 1972.©Earl Spencer
Charles Spencer in his Maidwell “Sunday best” suit in 1972.©Earl Spencer
During one of his nightly patrols, the headmaster caught Charles and his classmates in their dormitory talking after “lights out.”
Charles Spencer helps clear hurdling fences after Sports Day at Maidwell in 1975.©Earl Spencer
She sat on the side of my bed. She was smiley, kind and chatty. I found it exciting to have such an easy interchange with a member of staff. She talked about things that mattered to me. In the hard, male environment of this traditional boys’ boarding school, where I missed my mother terribly, this calculated deployment of feminine warmth couldn’t fail to entrance, beguile and ensnare me . . . [She] seemed to have an unofficial hierarchy among her prey: We learned, from our secret conversations, that she chose one of us each term to share her bed and would use him for intercourse . . . She added me to the second rank of her victims: those she intimately touched . . . The effect of what she did to me was profound and immediate, awakening in me basic desires that had no place in one so young.
During what he describes as “one of the lowest points” of his life in his early 40s, Charles attended an intensive therapy program focused on processing childhood trauma.
My second marriage had followed the first into failure, leaving two more of my offspring as children of divorce. Feeling beaten, I decided to tackle whatever was attracting partners unsuited to me, and me to them, so the pattern could end. I sought professional help, assuming that something fixable was wrong with me.
Charles Spencer with his sisters (from left) Diana and Sarah, their nanny Sally Percival and his sister Jane on the grounds of Park House in 1969.©Earl Spencer
Writing this book helped him come to terms with his past.
When looking at the wreckage of my first and second marriages, I learned early in therapy that being sent away to boarding school at eight years of age meant that I had next to no understanding of intimacy. It is an almost inevitable consequence of the trauma of which homesickness was the most obvious symptom. Equally, I became highly reactive, so that any slights or threats of abandonment jolted me into “fight or flight” survival mode. I am certain that some things died for me between my eighth and thirteenth birthdays, when in Jack’s care. Innocence, trust, joy — all were trampled on and dismissed in that outdated, snobbish, vicious little world that English high society constructed, endorsed and then handed over to the care of people who could be very dangerous indeed.
source: people.com
