It was hard for a girl of eleven to understand all the horrors which took place during those fearful five days when the soldiers pillaged Rome. I heard later of the terrible happenings. The nuns, hoping their robes would protect them, were seized at the altars where they knelt in prayer and were lewdly stripped of their robes and raped in the most horrible manner. Drunken soldiers roamed the streets. There were mock processions in the churches. The fact that foul deeds were performed in holy places had lent a fillip to the disgusting behavior of these wicked men. They brought prostitutes into the churches. They mocked God, the Pope and all Rome stood for.
Pope Clement VII had escaped to Castel Sant' Angelo with thirteen of the cardinals. There he was safe from the mob.
But he was at the mercy of the Emperor, and my father was seeking papal help in annulling his marriage. The Emperor would never allow the Pope to help my father divorce his wife.
So the Sack of Rome had a special significance for the King.
WHEN I HEARD the name of Anne Boleyn, I determined to find out all I could about her.
There was no doubt that she was the most attractive woman at Court. Before I had known what part she was going to play in our lives, I had noticed her. She dazzled. She had all the arts of seduction at her fingertips. Brought up in France, there was a foreignness about her which I suppose some men found attractive. Her magnificent dark hair and her big, luminous eyes were her great beauty, but everything about her was arresting. It was clear that she paid great attention to her dress. I heard she designed her own clothes. The outstanding feature of her elegant gowns was the hanging sleeves which hid the deformity on one of her fingers. Her enemies used to say that she had a mark on her neck which few had seen because it was always covered by a jeweled band. It marked her as a witch, they said. I was not sure about that, but there were times, when my hatred for her was at its height, when I made myself believe it.
She had come from the Court of France whither she had gone when a child in the train of my Aunt Mary Tudor who went there to marry the ageing Louis XII. She had not returned until soon after the occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, on account of the rapidly deteriorating relations between France and England. She was then to marry Piers Butler because there was some dispute in the Boleyn family about a title, and the marriage of Anne to the son of the Butlers had been arranged to settle the matter.
My father must have been aware of her at that time, for the proposed marriage was mysteriously prevented. I could not believe that at that time he thought of marrying her. The suggestion would have been too preposterous. I was shocked to hear that Mary Boleyn, Anne's sister, had been my father's mistress for some time.
These rumors of his philanderings upset me very much when I first heard of them. Now I know that that is the way of men. Well, Mary Boleyn was his mistress and I suppose that at the time of Anne's return to England the King became aware of her and decided to replace one sister with another.
I heard, too, about the passionate love between Anne and young Henry Percy, the eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, and how they planned to marry. That would have been a very good match for Mistress Anne Boleyn, for although her father had received many honors, largely because of the favor the King showed to Mary Boleyn, and Anne's mother was a Howard of the great Norfolk family, her father had his roots in trade. There was some story of an ancestor's being a merchant. True, he had acquired a title and become Lord Mayor, but still trade.
Anne no doubt thought all was set fair. She had been so much in love with Percy, people said. As for Percy, he was besotted. People used to marvel at her devotion to him, because he was not a heroic sort of young man but rather weak. That he adored her was not surprising but her genuine love for him was amazing, for they said it was not due to the great title he would one day inherit.
I grew to hate her so much that I could not see any good in her; but later on, when her terrible fate overtook her, my bitterness diminished a little and I often thought that, if she had been allowed to marry Percy, she could have been a happy wife and mother and much anguish spared to many.
My father, by this time, was beginning to be deeply enamoured of her and ordered Wolsey to prevent the marriage with Percy going ahead. Young Henry Percy was humiliated by the Cardinal, and the Earl of Northumberland was sent for. He came to London and berated his son for his folly. Henry Percy was banished to Northumberland, and Anne Boleyn to Hever.
I could imagine her grief and anger. She would be passionate in her emotion, although at the time she would not have known that the breaking up of their match had been due to the effect she was having on the King and that he was forming plans for her. She thought it was because she was not considered of noble enough breeding to mate with the mighty House of Northumberland, which had deeply wounded her dignity.
The rest of the story is well known: her return to Court at the instigation of the King, a place in my mother's household as one of her ladies-inwaiting, where she could grace the Court with her special talents of dancing, singing and writing masques with the young poets of the Court, most of whom were her slaves.
She was one of those women who I believe are called a femme fatale. My father was not the only one who desired her.
I did not know—I am not sure even now after so many years have passed—whether she deliberately set out to wear the crown. She could not in the beginning have believed this possible—she, from a family associated with trade—and in any case the King already had a wife. It seemed quite preposterous. No, I think at that stage she might have been sincere.
When he made it clear that he wished to be her lover she told him that she would not be the mistress of any man and as, by reason of her unworthiness and the fact that he was married, she could not be his wife, that must be an end of his aspirations.
It was bold. But then, she lived by boldness. It had served her well in the beginning, but it was to be her downfall in the end.
My father could not bear to be crossed; in any case, he was obsessed by the woman. He wanted her so desperately that he contemplated drastic steps to get her.
We could not believe it at first—not even Wolsey, who knew the King as well as any of us. Wolsey was our enemy—my mother's and mine. He was a clever man who believed there was a need to produce a male heir, but for him there was a greater need than that, which was to placate the King. But he was an astute politician who would immediately see the folly in divorcing my mother in order to put Anne Boleyn on the throne. He had his eyes on an alliance with France. Divorce my mother, yes, but only in order to marry a princess, possibly of France.
I did not know how much the proposed divorce was due to the lack of a son and how much to the King's desire for Anne Boleyn. My father was adept at dissembling. He had the gift of being able to deceive himself in the face of logic, and he did it so effectively that one was inclined to believe him…as he believed himself.
He came to my mother one day and I was present. Looking back now, I think that made a turning point in our relationship.
My mother and I were embroidering together, which was something we often did. The Countess said it had a soothing effect and calmed the nerves. It did seem to do so, for my mother would become quite interested in the stitches and we would sometimes talk of happier subjects than that one which was uppermost in our minds.