December 31, 1553

Last day of the old year. As is the custom of my mother, I have fasted today and have now sought audience with my private confessor, Father Mamerot. The problem is that with my stomach empty I think of my mother more. I hunger not so much for food but for Mother. I remember, though it was long ago, fasting with her.

The fast helps cleanse my mind of les petits vanities, the little vanities, and les choses legere, or trivial things. I know exactly what my mother means. I put out of my mind thoughts of gold ball gowns and mean notions that do not become my station. I must try to divert my mind from all meanness and baseness and not take delight in Mary Livingston’s tart, saucy rhymes. I must try to have a better attitude toward Queen Catherine. I also plan to have a very serious talk with the four Marys. Together we must make vows not to delight in ridicule and try to see the best in people such as Madame de Parois. I must take the lead in guiding the Marys. For indeed I am their Queen, and it is the moral and divine duty of a Queen to cultivate a garden in which higher moral thoughts might take root. So now I have all this organized in my mind. I shall immediately seek Father Mamerot.