The tragedy of King Charles: he had too little time
I support an Australian republic, yet retain affection for Charles the man. Because his mother lived so long and refused to cede power to her son, we now have an elderly, ailing monarch who has only touched his kingly legacy lightly.
What I discerned when I met him was a deep love for this land. A young Prince Charles had spent time in the Australian bush, at Geelong Grammar’s Timbertop campus, and it had a profound effect on him – he’s described it in the past as the best part of his secondary schooling. Formative in terms of character. What I discerned: that King Charles has a deep affection for Australians, and it all stems back to that teenager in the bush.
I met him at his old home, Clarence House, as an Aussie writer in London. It was a reception of Antipodeans; he was on the cusp of getting married to the love of his life. He was utterly hemmed in by the raucous colonials and having a ball. The handshake was firm, warm, connecting. This was not the prince of the imagination but an improvement. He was witty, urbane, relaxed, and seemed delighted to be among Aussies again.
My request: could he do an Australian accent. “Oh a little bit,” Charles laughed in perfect, twinkly Strine (the hardest of accents for foreigners to pull off). “You forget I went to school in Australia.” And as he chatted about Timbertop and the hellish runs he had to do, of Melbourne rain and food poisoning in Alice, you could discern a deep fondness for our land. He struck me as someone whose edges had been softened by adversity, not in a weak way, but a compassionate one.
What I suspect, with this trip, is that it’s a goodbye. To a land and a people Charles is fond of; to a country he’s requested be retained on this itinerary (New Zealand was lopped off). I don’t think Charles will ever return, and so there’s a penumbra of sadness over this visit. For the monarchy has a dying fall to it now; it is monarchy in a minor key.
We’ll never again witness the enormous, effusive crowds that greeted past royal visits. Magazines which perpetuated the fairytale, like the Women’s Weekly, don’t have nearly the reach they used to; and too many people are now aware of the oddity of some very mortal people ruling over us by mere accident of birth. Younger generations are more likely to be critical thinkers, not sycophants. A complicated future is roaring at the monarchy; Australia among other countries is growing restless and growing up. A different, less credulous future is nibbling at the edges of deference.
I support an Australian republic, yet retain affection for Charles the man. His tragedy, as King, is that his mother lived so long and refused to cede power to her son. So now we have an elderly, ailing monarch, with what feels like too little time. What individual stamp has Charles put on his reign? It feels like he has touched his kingly legacy lightly, and his devastating cancer diagnosis hasn’t helped.
When we think of Charles we think of the grievous rift with his son; a petulant, bitter rendering that jars us all. There’s also the enduring love for a woman once his girlfriend, whom he couldn’t marry when young because of her sexual past. Yet with Charles’s marriage to his queen, finally, it was as if he finally learned to say no to The Firm, reminding me of a description from Austen’s Persuasion: “[He] had been forced into prudence in [his] youth, [he] learned romance as [he] grew older – the natural sequence of an unnatural beginning.”
The story of Charles and Camilla is ultimately what the King will be remembered for. It’s love as rescue, which Diana never offered. “It’s not calf-love, it hooks into the heart,” explained their friend, interior designer Nicky Haslam. “It’s like a rope attached to her ... It’s a great need, this love.” What will survive of Charles is love. For his queen; and for Australia too, perhaps. I hope on this visit the King gets to spend some time in the bush. To be still in it, to rest, and to say goodbye to it.
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