the court was startled by intelligence that Sir Peter Carew was up in arms in Devonshire, resolute to resist the Prince of Spain's coming, and that he had taken the city and castle of Exeter. This news was followed, on the 25th, by intelligence that Sir Thomas Wyatt had taken the field with the same determination in Kent; and the mayor and aldermen, who had so recently been commanded to rejoice and make glad, were now told to shut the gates of the city, and keep good watch and ward, lest the rebels should enter. Sir Thomas Wyatt, son of the poet of that name, who has been associated in glory with the Earl of Surrey, was a very loyal knight of Kent, and, apparently, a Papist; but he had conceived a frightful notion of the cruel bigotry and grasping ambition of the Spanish court. Although connected by blood with the Dudleys, he had refused to co-operate with the Duke of Northumberland in the plot for giving the crown to Lady Jane Grey, and had even been forward to proclaim Queen Mary in the town of Maidstone, before knowing that she had been proclaimed elsewhere. Wyatt appears to have been a brave and honest, but rash man; and the majority of those who had engaged to co-operate with him, from different parts of the kingdom, were either scoundrels without faith or cowards. The highest name of all was both: this was the Duke of Suffolk, Lady Jane Grey's father, who, to the astonishment of most men. had been liberated

He was a commander at Henry VIII's siege of Boulogne, and

made himself conspicuous by his daring.

from the Tower, and pardoned by Queen Mary. On the 25th of January, the very day on which it was known that Sir Thomas Wyatt had risen in Kent, this duke fled into Warwickshire, where, with his brothers the Lord John Grey and the Lord Leonard Grey, he made proclamation against the queen's marriage, and called the people to arms; "but the people inclined not to him." The plan of the conspirators seems to have been, that Wyatt should endeavour to seize the Tower, where Lady Jane and her husband lay, and get possession of the city of London; that the Duke of Suffolk should raise the midland counties, and Carew the west: but in execution they proceeded with a miserable want of concert and arrangement. On the 29th the old Duke of Norfolk, with the Earl of Arundel, marched from London against Sir Thomas Wyatt, who had advanced to Rochester, and taken the castle. When the royalists reached Rochester-bridge they found it defended with three or four double cannons, and by a numerous force of Kentish men. Norfolk sent forward a herald with a proclamation of pardon to all such as should quietly return to their homes, but Wyatt would not permit the herald to read this paper to the people. Norfolk then ordered an assault; but when five hundred Londoners,-the trained bands of the city,-led by Captain Brett, reached the head of the bridge, they suddenly stopped, and their captain, turning round at their head, and lowering his sword, said, "Masters, we go about to fight against our native countrymen of England

*

and our friends, in a quarrel unrightful and wicked; for they, considering the great miseries which are like to fall upon us, if we shall be under the rule of the proud Spaniards or strangers, are here assembled to make resistance to their coming, for the avoiding of the great mischiefs likely to alight not only upon themselves, but upon every of us and the whole realm; wherefore, I think no English heart ought to say against them. I and others will spend our blood in their quarrel." He had scarcely finished, when the band of Londoners turned their ordnance against the rest of the queen's forces, shouting, every one of them, 66 a Wyatt!-a -a Wyatt!" At this defection the Duke of Norfolk and his officers turned and fled as fast as their horses could carry them, leaving eight brass guns, other pieces of ordnance, and all their ammunition behind them. The Londoners crossed the bridge, and three-fourths of the regular troops, among whom were some companies of the royal guard, went after them, and took service with Sir Thomas Wyatt and the insurgents.* When the intelligence reached London all was fright and confusion, especially at the court, where almost the only person that showed fortitude and composure was the queen herself. Wyatt ought to have made a forced march upon London during this consternation, but he loitered on his way: he did not reach Greenwich and Deptford till three days after the affair at Rochester-bridge; and then he lay three whole days doing nothing, and allowing the government to make their preparations. The queen, with her lords and ladies, rode from Westminster into the city, where she declared to the mayor, aldermen, and livery, that she meant not otherwise to marry than as her council should think both honourable and advantageous to the realm,that she could still continue unmarried, as she had done so long, and therefore she trusted that they would truly assist her in repressing such as rebelled on this account. Understanding that there were many in London who favoured Sir Thomas Wyatt's party, she appointed Lord William Howard and the Earl of Pembroke to look after the city with a considerable force. On the same day on which she made this visit her spirits were cheered by intelligence that the Duke of Suffolk had been discomfited in the midland counties, and that Sir Peter Carew and his friends had been put to flight in the west.† She issued a proclamation of pardon to all the Kentish men with the exception of Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir George Harper, and the other gentlemen, offering as a reward to the man that should take or kill Wyatt, lands worth a hundred pounds a-year to him and his heirs for ever. On the 3rd

of February, at about three o'clock in the afternoon, Wyatt and his host (who are differently estimated at two thousand and at eight thousand men), marched from Deptford, along the river side, towards Southwark. As soon as this movement was

known in the city the drawbridge, at London Bridge, was raised and the gates were shut; the mayor and sheriffs "harnessed," (put on their armour, &c.) and commanded every man to shut in his shop and windows, and to be ready "harnessed" at his door, chance what might.* By this time the Kentish men had entered Kent-street, and so, by St. George's church, they went into Southwark, which they entered peaceably, "without repulse or any stroke stricken." In fact, the inhabitants entertained them with their best cheer; and many people from the country, who were staying in the inns on that side of the water, immediately joined them. The Kentish men paid for what they got; and Wyatt took precautions to prevent pillage and every kind of outrage. But Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, had a goodly house in Southwark, well stocked with books, and divers of Wyatt's company, being gentlemen, "went to Winchesterplace, made havoc of the bishop's goods, not only of his victuals, whereof there was plenty, but whatsoever else, not leaving so much as one lock of a door, but the same was taken off and carried away, nor a book in his library or gallery uncut or rent into pieces, so that men might have gone up to their knees in leaves of books, cut out and thrown under foot."+ Wyatt, in the mean time, placed two pieces of artillery in battery at the Southwark end of the bridge, and caused a deep trench to be dug between the bridge and the place where he was: to defend his flanks and rear he placed three other guns, one pointing down Bermondsey-strect, one by St. George's Church, and the third near the Bishop of Winchester's house. Contrary to his expectations, the Londoners did not throw open their gates, and he had not resolution sufficient to attempt an assault by the bridge. He again lost two whole days, and on the morning of the third day the garrison in the Tower opened a heavy fire of great pieces of ordnance, culverins, and demy-cannons full against the foot of the bridge and against Southwark, and the two steeples of St. Olave's and St. Mary Overy. As soon as the people of Southwark saw this they no longer treated Wyatt as a welcome guest, but, making a great noise and lamentation, they entreated him to move elsewhere. Perhaps it would have been dangerous to stay; but, at all events, this circumstance seems to have made him come to a decision. Telling the people that he would not have them hurt on his account, he marched away towards Kingston, hoping to cross the river by the bridge there, and to fall upon London and Westminster from the west. On the road he met a London merchant named Dorell. Ah, cousin Dorell," said he, "I pray you commend me unto your citizens, and say unto them, from me, that, when liberty was offered them, they would not

66

According to Stow there had been a good deal of arming, or "harnessing," before this very close approach.-"On the Friday (the day on which Wyatt reached Deptford) the most part of the householders of London, with the mayor and aldermen, were in harness: yea, this day, and other days, the justices, serjeants at the law, and other lawyers in Westminster Hall, pleaded in harness." + Stow.

3 U

receive it, neither would they admit me within their gates, who, for their freedom, and for rescuing them from the oppression of foreigners, would frankly spend my blood in this cause and quarrel." It was four o'clock in the afternoon (on the 6th day of February) when he reached Kingston, and found about thirty feet of the bridge broken down, and an armed force on the opposite bank to prevent his passage. He placed his guns in battery, and drove away the troops; with the help of some sailors he got possession of some boats and barges, and repaired the bridge; but it was eleven o'clock at night before these operations were finished, and his men were sorely fatigued and dispirited. Allowing them no time for rest,-for his plan was to turn back upon London by the left bank of the Thames, and to reach the city gates before sunrise, he marched them on through a dreary winter night. When he was within six miles of London the carriage of one of his great brass guns broke down, and he very absurdly lost some hours in remounting the piece; and so, when he reached Hyde Park, it was broad daylight, and the royal forces, commanded by the Earl of Pembroke, were ready to receive him. In a field on the west side of St. James's, were the men-at-arms and demi-lances, and over against them, in a lane that ran by the parks, stood the light-horse, headed by the Lord Clinton. The heavy artillery was planted in the midst, on the rising ground near St. James's Palace, with certain field-pieces lying on each of the flanks of the royal force. Many of Wyatt's followers had deserted before he crossed the river at Kingston; others had lingered behind during the night-march; and, now, many more abandoned him on seeing that formidable preparations were made against him, and that none of the many friends and allies he had spoken of came out to join him from the city. With great bravery, however, he resolved to fight his way through the royal army, still entertaining a confident hope that the citizens would rise in his favour. After a short "thundering with the great guns on either side, without harm, as it happened, to any," he charged the queen's cavalry, who, opening their ranks, suffered him to pass with about four hundred of his followers, and then instantly closing in the rear of this weak van-guard, they cut him off from the main body of the insurgents, who thereupon stood still, wavered, and took a contrary course. In the meanwhile Wyatt rushed rapidly along Charing Cross and the Strand to Ludgate, which, to his mortification, he found closed against him, not so much as a single citizen appearing on the walls to welcome the liberator. In vain he shouted "Queen Mary! God save Queen Mary, who has granted our petition, and will have no Spanish husband!" The Londoners were better informed, and they stood in awe of the numerous troops which had been collected. A part of Pembroke's army had followed Wyatt in his rapid advance, and, when he turned to go back by the same road, be found that he must cut his way through dense

masses of horse and foot. He charged furiously, and actually fought his way as far as the Temple. But there he found that his band was diminished to some forty or fifty men, and that further resistance was utterly hopeless. Clarenceux rode up to him, persuading him to yield, and not, "beyond all his former madness, surcharge himself with the blood of these brave fellows." At last Wyatt threw away his broken sword, and quietly surrendered to Sir Maurice Berkley, who, mounting him behind him, carried him off instantly to the court. The rest of the insurgents were dispersed, but not without sharp fighting, nor until they had penetrated right through Westminster, and made an attack on the palace. They were very dirty; their clothes all soiled with the mud of the rough roads; and the cry on the queen's part that day was, "Down with the draggle-tails!" Though only half armed, these brave Kentish men made a determined stand at Charing Cross, where they were charged by the queen's guard and a great power of pikemen; but they were finally put to flight by the artillery and the royal archers.

"The coming of Wyatt to the court being so little looked for, was great cause of rejoicing to such as of late before stood in great fear of him. But more than marvel it was to see that day the invincible heart and constancy of the queen herself, who, being by nature a woman, and therefore commonly more fearful than men be, showed herself in that case more stout than is credible. For she, notwithstanding all the fearful news that were brought to her that day, never abashed. Insomuch that when one or two noblemen, being her captains, came in all haste to tell her (though untruly) that her battles were yielded to Wyatt, she, nothing moved thereat, said it was their fond opinion that durst not come near to the trial; saying further, that she herself would enter the field to try the truth of her quarrel, and to die with them that would serve her, rather than to yield one iota unto such a traitor as Wyatt was; and prepared herself accordingly."* Wyatt was immediately committed to the Tower; and a proclamation was made that none, upon pain of death, should conceal in their houses any of his faction, but should bring them forth immediately before the lord mayor and other the queen's justices. "By reason of this proclamation, a great multitude of these said poor caitiffs were brought forth, being so many in number, that all the prisons in London sufficed not to receive them; so that for lack of place they were fain to bestow them in divers churches of the said city. And shortly after there were set up in London, for a terror to the common sort (because the White Coats+ being sent out of the city, as before ye have heard, revolted from the queen's part to the aid of Wyatt), twenty pair gallows, on the which were hanged in several places to the number of fifty persons, which gallowses remained standing there a great part of the summer following, to the great grief of good

citizens, and for example to the commotioners."* These bodies were not suffered to be removed till the public entry of King Philip; on which festive occasion the streets were cleared of the noisome objects. The Tower of London was soon filled with persons of the first distinction. In the course of a few weeks, about fifty officers, knights, and gentlemen, were put to death. Twenty-two common soldiers were sent down to Kent with Brett, the captain of the Train-bands, who had deserted at Rochester-bridge, and they were there executed as traitors, and gibbeted. About sixty were led in procession, with halters about their necks, to the Tilt-yard, where the queen granted them a pardon. About four hundred common men, in all, suffered death between the 7th of February and the 12th of March, and many were executed afterwards.†

The day after the breaking out of Wyatt's rebellion was known at court, the queen resolved to arrest her half-sister Elizabeth and her former favourite, the handsome Courtenay, Earl of Devon, who were both suspected (and it is by no means clear that they were falsely suspected) of being partakers in the plot. She sent three of her council-Sir Richard Southwell, Sir Edward Hastings, and Sir Thomas Cornwallis-with a strong guard to Ashridge, in Buckinghamshire, where Elizabeth was suffering a real or a feigned sickness. The worthy counsellors did not arrive at the manor-house till ten o'clock at night; the princess had gone to rest, and refused to see them; but, in spite of the remonstrances of her ladies, they rudely burst into her chamber. "Is the haste such," asked Elizabeth," that it might not have pleased you to come to-morrow in the morning ?" They answered that they were right sorry to see her in such a case. "And I," quoth she, 66 am not glad to see you here at this time of night." They replied that they were there in the discharge of an important duty,-that it was the queen's pleasure that her grace should be in London, and that their orders were to bring her " quick or dead." The princess complained of the harshness of their commission, but the physicians decided that she might travel without danger of life; and she was further informed that the Queen had sent her own litter for her accommodation. appears that Elizabeth would have tried to escape if the house and grounds had not been watched by an armed force. Nothing was left but submission, and a hope, that seems to have been of the weakest; and, on the following morning, amidst the tears and passionate lamentation of her household, by whom she was greatly beloved, and to whom her destination seemed inevitable, she took a sad leave of that rural retreat, and, vigilantly watched and guarded, set off for the capital. Her journey was a very slow one; the first day she went no further than Redburne; the second she rested at Sir Ralph Roulett's house at St. Alban's; the third she went about seven miles, and slept at Mimms, in the • Holinshed, Holinshed.-Stow.-Grafton,-Godwin,

It

house of Mr. Dodd; and on the fourth she reached Highgate, where she tarried a night and a day. Between Highgate and London her drooping spirits were cheered by the appearance of a number of gentlemen, who were bold enough to ride out to meet her, and assure her of their great respect and attachment. The people, too, sympathised with the captive princess; they lined the roads,-they crowded round her litter, weeping and bewailing their lot. She passed through Smithfield and Fleet-street in a litter open on both sides, with a hundred velvet coats before her, and a hundred others after her in coats of fine red guarded with velvet; and, with this train, and the prayers and tears of the populace, she passed through the queen's garden to the court. The deep interest she excited alarmed her enemies; and, after undergoing a rigid examination by the privy council, respecting Wyatt's insurrection and the rising of Carew in the West-of both of which attempts she protested she was entirely innocent--she was dismissed from court in about a fortnight, and allowed to return to Ashridge. The handsome Courtenay was committed to the Tower, in spite of his protestations of innocence. But Elizabeth had scarcely been liberated when Sir William Sentlow, one of her officers, was arrested as an adherent of Wyatt's; and it was asserted that Wyatt had accused the princess, and stated that he had conveyed to her in a bracelet the whole scheme of his plot; and on the 15th of March she was again taken into custody and brought to Hampton Court, where she saw 66 nor lord, nor queen, nor friend." On the Friday before Palm Sunday, Bishop Gardiner, Chancellor, and nineteen members of the council, went down to her from the queen, and charged her directly with being concerned, not only in Wyatt's conspiracy, but also in the rebellion of Sir Peter Carew, and declared unto her that it was the queen's pleasure she should go to the Tower. She remonstrated, and again protested her innocence; but the lords answered that there was no remedy. Her own attendants were instantly dismissed, and servants or spies of the queen's choosing placed about her.

"Upon Saturday following," says Holinshed (or rather Foxe, whose words the old chronicler here transcribes)," that is, the next day, two lords of the council (the one was the Earl of Sussex, the other shall be nameless) came and certified her grace, that forthwith she must go unto the Tower, the barge being prepared for her, and the tide now ready, which tarrieth for nobody. In heavy mood her grace requested the lords that she might tarry another tide, trusting that the next would be better and more comfortable. But one of the lords replied, that neither tide nor time was to be delayed. And when her grace requested him that she might be suffered to write to the queen's majesty, he answered that he durst not permit that, adding, that, in his judgment, it would rather hurt than profit her grace in so doing. But the other lord, more courteous and favourable (who was the Earl

of Sussex), kneeling down, said she should have liberty to write, and, as a true man, he would deliver it to the queen's highness, and bring an answer of the same, whatsoever came thereof." Whereupon she wrote a letter, which has been preserved. She began by referring to some former promises made to her by her sister Mary. "If any ever did try this old saying, that a king's word was more than another man's oath, I most humbly beseech your Majesty to verify it in me, and to remember your last promise and my last demand, that I be not condemned without answer and due proof; which it seems that now I am, for that without cause provided I am by your council from you commanded to go unto the Tower--a place more wonted for a false traitor than a true subject--which, though I know I deserve it not, yet, in the face of all this realm, appears that it is proved; which I pray God I may die the shamefulest death that any ever died, afore I may mean any such thing; and to this present hour I protest afore God (who shall judge my truth, whatsoever malice shall devise) that I never practised, counselled, nor consented to, anything that might be prejudicial to your person in any way, or dangerous to the State by any mean." She then proceeded humbly to beseech her majesty to grant her an audience, that she might answer before herself, and not before the members of the privy council, who might falsely represent her, and that she might be heard by the queen before going to the Tower, if possible, if not, at least before she should be further

condemned. After many protestations of innocence and expressions of her hope in the queen's natural kindness, she told Mary that there was something which she thought and believed her majesty would never know properly unless she heard her with her own ears. She then continued: "I have heard in my time of many cast away, for want of coming to the presence of their prince; and in late days I heard my Lord of Somerset say, that if his brother had been suffered to speak with him, he had never suffered; but the persuasions were made to him so great, that he was brought in to believe that he could not live safely if the Admiral lived; and that made him give his consent to his death. Though these persons are not to be compared to your majesty, yet I pray God, as (that) evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other; and all for that they have heard false report, and not hearkened to the truth known. Therefore, once again, kneeling with humbleness of my heart, because I am not suffered to bow the knees of my body, I humbly crave to speak with your highness

And as for the traitor Wyatt, he might peradventure write me a letter, but, on my faith, I never received any from him. And as for the copy of my letter sent to the French king, I pray God confound me eternally, if ever I sent him word, message, token, or letter by any means; and to this, my truth, I will stand in to my death."

This letter, which was much more spirited than Sir Henry Ellis's collection of Orig. Lett. Hearne has printed the same letter in his preface to the Latin edition of Camden's Annals. The original is in the State Paper Office; a trauscript among the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum.