coming
up, exclaimed, "These be Wyatt's antients." Muttered curses were heard
among the bystanders; but Lord Howard was on the spot; the gates,
notwithstanding the murmurs, were instantly closed; and, when Wyatt
knocked, Howard's voice answered, "Avaunt! traitor; thou shalt not
come in here." "I have kept touch," Wyatt exclaimed; but his
enterprise was hopeless now. He sat down upon a bench outside the
Belle Sauvage Yard. His followers scattered from him among the
by-lanes and streets; and, of the three hundred, twenty-four alone
remained, among {p.109} whom were now Knyvet and one of the young
Cobhams. With these few he turned at last, in the forlorn hope that
the train-bands would again open to let him pass. Some of Pembroke's
horse were coming up. He fought his way through them to Temple Bar,
where a herald cried, "Sir, ye were best to yield; the day is gone
against you; perchance ye may find the queen merciful." Sir Maurice
Berkeley was standing near him on horseback, to whom, feeling that
further resistance was useless, he surrendered his sword; and
Berkeley, to save him from being cut down in the tumult, took him up
upon his horse. Others in the same way took up Knyvet and Cobham,
Brett and two more. The six prisoners were carried through the Strand
back to Westminster, the passage through the city being thought
dangerous; and from Whitehall Stairs, Mary herself looking on from a
window of the palace, they were borne off in a barge to the Tower.

The queen had triumphed, triumphed through her own resolution, and
would now enjoy the fruits of victory.

Had Wyatt succeeded, Mary would have lost her husband and her crown;
and had the question been no more than a personal one, England could
have well dispensed both with her and Philip. But Elizabeth would have
ascended a throne under the shadow of treason. The Protestants would
have come back to power in the thoughtless vindictiveness of
exasperated and successful revolutionists; and the problem of the
Reformation would have been more hard than ever of a reasonable
solution. The fanatics had made their effort, and they had failed;
they had shaken the throne, but they had not overthrown it; the
queen's turn was come, and, as the danger had been great, so was the
resentment. She had Renard at one ear protesting that, while these
turbulent spirits were uncrushed, the precious person of the prince
could not be trusted to her. She had Gardiner, who, always pitiless
tow