Charles Spencer’s George Boleyn Comparison Reveals What History Lost About Anne Boleyn

While discussing his #1 New York Times bestselling memoir, Swan Song: Diana, My Sister, Charles Spencer made a historical observation that gets to the heart of why his own account matters.

Speaking with Tina Brown, Spencer wondered what historians might know if Anne Boleyn’s brother had survived to write about her.

“Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if George Boleyn, Anne Boleyn’s younger brother, had written about her?”

It sounds like a passing observation. It really is not. Spencer is a historian as well as Princess Diana’s brother. He understands what happens when the people closest to a historical figure leave no account behind. George Boleyn died two days before Anne. Charles Spencer survived Princess Diana, and nearly 30 years after her death, he can still challenge the version of history produced around her. And that is key when studying history.

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Henry Removed Anne From the World Around Him

Charles Spencer alleges that after Diana’s death, the then-Prince Charles told him, “We’ll forget her soon enough.” Buckingham Palace disputes his recollection. But the line is striking because royal history already offers an example of what happens when a king tries to move on from a wife who has become politically inconvenient.

Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn in 1533 after years of trying to end his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, a struggle that helped drive England’s break with Rome. Three years later, Anne faced accusations of adultery, incest and treason. A court convicted her, and she was executed on May 19, 1536. Henry married Jane Seymour 11 days later.

Then Anne started disappearing from the royal world she had helped create. At Hampton Court, workers removed the intertwined H and A initials celebrating their marriage. Some survived only because they were missed. Her falcon badge also survives in the Great Hall roof.

No undisputed contemporary painted portrait of Anne survives either. The famous National Portrait Gallery image dates from later in the 16th century and probably copies a lost likeness. The gallery notes that people may have deliberately destroyed images of Anne after her execution, just as they removed her heraldic devices from royal palaces.

We have no surviving account of how Thomas and Elizabeth Boleyn reacted to losing Anne and George within two days of each other. That silence is striking, especially as Henry moved almost immediately on to Jane Seymour and the Boleyn family’s position at court collapsed. There is at least some historical satisfaction in what followed. The daughter Henry declared illegitimate grew up to become Queen Elizabeth I, one of England’s most consequential monarchs, and the woman who brought the Tudor dynasty to its end.

And Then There Is George

Anne’s execution obviously solved Henry’s immediate marital problem. But George Boleyn was killed too. That deserves more attention.

George was not simply Anne’s little brother hanging around the palace. He was Lord Rochford, an experienced courtier who had served on diplomatic missions and promoted Henry’s religious policies. Prosecutors accused him of incest with Anne and treason. He was convicted on May 15 and beheaded on Tower Hill on May 17. Anne followed him two days later.  

Historians remain deeply sceptical of the accusations surrounding Anne’s downfall, particularly the sexual charges. The evidence does not allow us to state with certainty that Henry killed George specifically because he feared what George might do afterwards.

But look at the practical result. Anne died. Her brother died. Several men from her circle died. Her marriage was annulled. Her daughter lost her place in the succession. Her symbols came down. And one of the people who knew Anne before Henry ever entered her life could never tell us what he had seen.

Imagine what historians would do with George Boleyn’s memoir today. He might have defended Anne. He might have criticised her. He might have told us things her modern admirers would hate. He might have exposed things Henry’s defenders would hate even more. That is why his missing voice matters.

Diana Had Something Anne Never Did

Diana lived in a world Henry VIII could never have controlled. Television recorded her, photographers documented her life, and she helped Andrew Morton tell her story before giving the Panorama interview. Friends, staff and journalists have added their own accounts ever since. That gave Diana something Anne never had: a record too large for one institution to control.

Spencer argues that the palace has still tried to shape how Diana is remembered. He has pointed to her absence from the story now told at the Sandringham church where she was baptised and criticised journalists who, in his view, repeat palace narratives as fact.

The difference is scale. Henry could remove Anne’s initials from Hampton Court and strip away much of her physical presence. Charles III cannot erase Diana in the same way. But omission, repetition and selective storytelling can still influence memory.

That is why Spencer’s account matters. George Boleyn died before he could leave us his version of Anne. Charles Spencer survived long enough to leave his version of Diana. Historians can test both memory and evidence, but only one brother got the chance to speak for himself. Anne lost that witness. Diana did not.