They had arrived at Clarence House, his
royal residence in London, in February
2017 : a collection that would eventually
comprise 17 magnicent works, includ-
ing pieces by Picasso, Dalí, Monet, and
Chagall, that humbled the prince with
their power and provenance. A supreme
arbiter of art, as both a lifelong collector
and an artist himself, Charles listened
eagerly as Malcolm Rogers, former
curator of the National Portrait Gallery
in London and retired director of the
Boston Museum of Fine Arts, explained
the signicance of two paintings by Sir
Anthony van Dyck, England’s leading
court painter in the 17 th century, that
were propped up against the royal resi-
dence’s wall. The prince, Rogers recalls,
seemed “enthusiastic” to hear their glo-
rious histories.
Rogers was well acquainted with the
source of the paintings. They were on
loan from James Stunt, the 38 - year-old
gold tycoon who has come to deine
decadence in contemporary London.
The ex-husband of Petra Ecclestone,
heiress daughter to Formula 1 billionaire
Bernie Ecclestone, Stunt was known to
buy 200 , 000 pounds’ worth of Cris-
tal Champagne in a single evening at
Tramp, London’s infamous members-
only nightclub. His godfather was an
alleged mob boss, his business partners’
oces had recently been raided by the
police, and he traversed the city in a
trac-stopping eet of luxury cars—part
of his collection of 200 Rolls-Royces,
Bentleys, Ferraris, and Lamborghinis—
that made even the queen’s motorcade
seem modest by comparison.
Stunt had also assembled a staggering
collection of private art. In 2014 , after he
loaned ve exceptional British paintings
104 million pounds—were actually cheap
imitations by Tony Tetro, a California art-
ist known as the world’s greatest living art
forger. Citing their display at Dumfries
House, which seemed to confer a royal
seal of approval, Stunt had valued the
paintings at 217 million pounds and had
tried to use them to secure massive loans
to pay o his equally massive debts. Prince
Charles, it appeared, had been scammed.
The queen was said to be highly upset,
and the paintings were swiftly taken
down. “It is extremely regrettable that the
authenticity of these particular paintings,
which are no longer on display, is now in
doubt,” a spokesperson for the Prince’s
Foundation tells Vanity Fair. Art experts
asked: Who is vetting the royal art?
Followed by another question: Who the
hell is James Stunt?THE MAN BEHIND the gates of the grand
white town house in Belgravia, one of
London’s most affluent and elegant
districts, is under self-imposed “house
arrest.” He has not left these premises
for any extended period for the past
year. His numerous bank accounts are
blocked or busted, his eet of luxury cars
locked away or impounded. His vast col-
lection of art—once his passport to royal
palaces and other enclaves of the elite—
has been reduced to inventory lists for
potential lenders.
Depending on whom you ask, James
Stunt is either a billionaire, or he’s broke.
Either the loving former husband of one
of the richest women on the planet, or an
abusive ex who threatened to kill his wife
and called his father-in-law a “cunt” in
divorce court. Either one of the world’s
most prodigious collectors of art, or a
desperate-for-cash commissioner of
forgeries, which he tried to pass as real
to mend his shattered nances.
The door behind the black iron gates
swings open. Before me stands one of
Stunt’s “heavies,” as they have been
called, the lone servant on duty today
from the multitudes who once served
him. Escorted into a sparse upstairs
living room, I await the arrival of the
master, who I am told is on an urgent
business call.
Forty-ve minutes later, Stunt ascends
the staircase from his bedroom: bone-
thin, hair slicked back, chain-smoking
Marlboro Golds. Despite the royal scan-
dal swirling around him, he has not
granted anyone an interview since 2018.to the Boston museum, he told Rog-
ers of his ambitions. “He wanted to put
a collection together for his daughter to
inherit, with a view to lending things
to museums,” Rogers recalls. “He always
presented himself as a very charitable and
positive person, and he was wanting to
support the Prince of Wales.”
With his latest gift, Stunt had suc-
ceeded in gaining the prince’s atten-
tion. Charles, thrilled with the paintings,
knew that art of such stature deserved
to be hung in a place of supreme honor.
The pieces were soon dispatched to the
destination closest to the prince’s heart:
Dumfries House, the sprawling mansion
on 2 , 000 acres in Scotland that Charles
had renovated at a cost of more than
45 million pounds and turned into the
headquarters for his personal charity,
the Prince’s Foundation.
“Dear James,” the prince wrote Stunt.
“It was with a great sadness that you
were unable to come to Clarence House
the other day when Malcolm Rogers
appeared with your marvelous pictures.”
The prince expressed his excitement
over the artworks, “especially the two
van Dycks,”and his pleasure at display-
ing them at Dumfries House. Thanking
Stunt for his generosity, he added that the
paintings would “provide us with much
needed security as an asset for the charity
if things ever get tough.” Stunt framed the
letter and displayed it in his oce.
But the paintings turned out to be more
of a liability than an asset. Last Novem-
ber, in a front-page story that touched
o a royal scandal, the Mail on Sunday
reported that 4 of the 17 paintings were
fakes. According to the paper, the works
by Picasso, Dalí, Monet, and Chagall—
insured by the Prince’s Foundation forThe paintings
delighted
Prince Charles.
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