Her courage gained the day. From some cause the insurgents had not pushed forward with the celerity which the flight of Norfolk appeared to make easy. Instead of marching on the City and taking advantage of its panic, Wyatt was three days in reaching Deptford and Greenwich, and he then lay three more days there, though his success was said to have raised his forces to 15,000 men. Meantime the City had recovered its courage by the valiant bearing of the queen, and the news of the dispersion of the other two divisions of the rebels. The golden opportunity was irrevocably lost. On the 3rd of February Wyatt marched along the river side to Southwark. Coming to the end of London Bridge, he found the drawbridge raised, the gates closed, and the citizens, headed by the Lord Mayor and aldermen in armour, in strong force ready to resist his entrance. He was surprised to find the Londoners determined not to admit him, for he had been led to believe that they were as hostile to the marriage as himself. He planted two pieces of artillery at the foot of the bridge, but this was evidently with the view of defending his own position, and not of forcing the gates, for he cut a deep ditch between the bridge and the fort which he occupied, and then protected his flanks from attack by other guns, one pointing down Bermondsey Street, one by St. George's Church, and the third towards the Bishop of Winchester's house. He must still have hoped for a demonstration in the City in his favour, for he remained stationary two whole days, without making an attack on the bridge. On the third morning this inaction was broken by the garrison in the Tower opening a brisk cannonade against him with all their heavy ordnance, doing immense damage to the houses in the vicinity of the bridge fort, and to the towers of St. Olave's and St. Mary Overy's.
The people of Southwark, seeing the inaction of Wyatt and the mischief done to their property, now cried out amain, and desired him to take himself away, which he did. He told the people that he would not have them hurt on his account, and forthwith commenced a march towards Kingston, hoping to be able to cross the bridge there, which he supposed would be unguarded, and that so he might fall on Westminster and London on the side where they were but indifferently fortified. He reached Kingston about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th of February, where he found a part of the bridge broken down, and an armed force ready to oppose his passage. His object being to cross here, and not, as at London Bridge, to await a voluntary admission, he brought up his artillery, swept the enemy from the opposite bank, and by the help of some sailors, who brought up boats and barges, he had the bridge made passable, and his troops crossed over. By this time it was eleven o'clock at night; his troops were extremely fatigued by their march and their labours here, but he now deemed it absolutely necessary to push on, and allow the Government no more time than he could help to collect forces into his path, and strengthen their position. He marched on, therefore, through a miserable winter night, and staying most imprudently to re-mount a heavy gun which had broken down, it was broad daylight when he arrived at what is now Hyde Park, where the Earl of Pembroke was posted with the royal forces to receive him.
Lord Clinton headed the cavalry, and took his station with a battery of cannon on the rising ground opposite to the palace of St. James's, at the top of the present St. James's Street, and his cavalry extended from that spot to the present Jermyn Street. All that quarter of dense building, including Piccadilly, Pall Mall, and St. James's Square, was then open and called St. James's Fields. About nine o'clock appeared the advance guard of Wyatt's army. The morning was dismal, gloomy, and rainy, and his troops, who had been wading through muddy roads all night, were in no condition to face a fresh army. Many had deserted at Kingston, many more had dropped off since, and seeing the strength of the force placed to obstruct him, he divided his own into three parts. One of these, led by Captain Cobham, took the way through St. James's Park at the back of the palace, which was barricaded at all points, guards being stationed at the windows, even those of the queen's bed-chamber and with drawing-rooms. Cobham's division fired on the palace as it passed, whilst another division under Captain Knevet, holding more to the right, assaulted the palaces of Westminster and Whitehall.
But Wyatt, at the head of the main division, charged Clinton's cavalry; the cannon were brought up, and a general engagement took place between the rebel army and the troops under Clinton and the infantry under Pembroke. Wyatt's charge seemed to make the cavalry give way, but it was only a stratagem on the part of Clinton, who opened his ranks to let Wyatt and about four hundred of his followers pass, when he closed and cut off the main body from their commander. In all Wyatt's proceedings he displayed great bravery, but little military experience or caution.
His main forces, now deprived of their leader, wavered and gave way, but instead of breaking took another course to reach the City. Wyatt, as if unconscious that he had left the bulk of his army behind him, and had now the enemy between it and himself, rushed along past Charing Cross and through the Strand to Ludgate, in the fond hope still that the citizens would admit him and join him. In the passages of the Strand were posted bodies of soldiers under the Earl of Worcester and the contemptible Courtenay, who, on the sight of Wyatt, fled.
On reaching Ludgate, Wyatt found the gates closed, and instead of the citizens who had promised to receive him, Lord William Howard appeared over the gate, crying sternly, "Avaunt, traitor! avaunt; you enter not here!" Finding no access there, the unhappy man turned to rejoin and assist his troops, but he was met by those of Pembroke, who had poured after him like a flood. With the energy of despair he fought his way back as far as the Temple, where he found only twenty-four of his followers surviving. At Temple Bar he threw away his sword, which was broken, and surrendered himself to Sir Maurice Berkeley, who immediately mounted him behind him and carried him off to Court.
Mary had displayed the most extraordinary clemency on the termination of the former conspiracy, for which not only the Emperor but her own Ministers had blamed her. Her Council now urged her to make a more salutary example of these offenders, to prevent a repetition of rebellion. On the previous occasion she had permitted only three of the ringleaders to be put to death. On this occasion five of the chief conspirators were condemned, and four of them were executed, Croft being pardoned. Suffolk fell without any commiseration. It was difficult to decide whether his folly or his ingratitude had been the greater. He had twice been a traitor to the queen, the second time after being most mercifully pardoned. He had twice put his amiable and excellent daughter's life in jeopardy; the second time after seeing how hopeless was the attempt to place her on the throne, and therefore, to a certainty, by the second revolt, involving her death; and to add to his infamy, he endeavoured to win escape for himself by betraying others. He was beheaded on the 23rd of February. Wyatt was kept in the Tower till the 11th of April, when he was executed. Unlike Suffolk, he tried to exculpate others, declaring in his last moments that neither the Princess Elizabeth nor Courtenay, who were suspected of being privy to his designs, knew anything of them. Wyatt seems to have been a brave and honest man, who believed himself acting the part of a patriot in endeavouring to preserve the country from the Spanish yoke, and who, in the sincerity of his own heart, had too confidently trusted to the assurances of faithless men. Had he succeeded, and placed the Protestant Princess Elizabeth on the throne, his name, instead of remaining that of a traitor, would have stood side by side with that of Hampden. His body was quartered and exposed in different places. His head was stuck on a pole at Hay Hill, near Hyde Park, whence it was stolen by some of his friends.
Sir Nicholas Throgmorton was the sixth, who was tried at Guildhall on the 17th of April, the very day of Lord Grey's execution. His condemnation and death were regarded as certain; but on being brought to the bar he adroitly pleaded that the recent statute abolishing all treasons since the reign of Edward III., covered anything which he could possibly have done, and that his offence being only words, were by the same statute declared to be no overt act at all. He stated this with so much skill and eloquence, at the same time contending that there was not a particle of evidence of his having been an active accomplice of the rebels, that the jury acquitted him.
The execution which caused and still causes the deepest interest, and which always appears as a shadow on the character of Queen Mary, was that of her cousin, Lady Jane Grey. Till this second unfortunate insurrection, Mary steadily refused to listen to any persuasions to shed the blood of Lady Jane. She had had her tried and condemned to death, but she still permitted her to live, gave her a considerable degree of liberty and unusual indulgences, and it was generally understood that she meant eventually to pardon her. The ambassadors of Charles V. had strenuously urged her to prevent future danger by executing her rival, but she had replied that she could not find it in her conscience to put her unfortunate kinswoman to death, who had not been an accomplice of Northumberland, but merely an instrument in his hands; but now that the very mischief had taken place which the Emperor and her own Council had prognosticated; she was importuned on all sides to take what they described as the only prudent course. Poynet, the Bishop of Winchester, says that those lords of the Council who had been the most instrumental at the death of Edward VI. in thrusting royalty on Lady Jane—namely, Pembroke and Winchester—and who had been amongst the first to denounce Mary as illegitimate, were now the most remorseless advocates for Lady Jane's death.
Accordingly, the day after the fall of Wyatt, Mary signed the warrant for the execution of "Guilford Dudley and his wife," to take place within three days. On the morning of the execution the queen sent Lady Jane permission to have an interview with her husband, but she declined the favour as too trying, saying she should meet him within a few hours in heaven. She saw her husband go to execution from the window of the lodging in Master Partridge's house, and beheld the headless trunk borne back to be buried in the chapel. Lord Guilford Dudley was executed on Tower Hill in sight of a vast concourse, but a scaffold was erected for her on the Tower green. Immediately after his corpse had passed she was led forth by the Lieutenant of the Tower, and appeared to go to her fate without any discomposing fear, but in a serious frame, not a tear dimming her eye, though her gentlewomen, Elizabeth Tilney and Mistress Helen, were weeping greatly. She continued engaged in prayer, which she read from a book, till she came to the scaffold; there she made a short speech to the spectators, declaring that she deserved her punishment for allowing herself to be made the instrument of the ambition of others. "That device, however," she said, "was never of my seeking, but by the counsel of those who appeared to have better understanding of such things than I. As for the procurement or desire of such dignity by me, I wash my hands thereof before God and all you Christian people this day." She caused her gentlewomen to disrobe her, bandaged her own eyes with a handkerchief, and laying her head on the block, at one stroke it was severed from the body (February 12, 1554).