None the less may it be doubted, whether, among misguided men, there is a character in history more to be pitied than Sir Everard Digby. Whatever his faults, whatever his errors, whatever the mischief he wrought to the cause for which he was ready to give his life, he never seems to have been guilty of a selfish action; if he was disloyal to his country, he believed that he was serving its best interests; if he mistook atrocious murder for legitimate warfare, it was with the hope of restoring his fellow-countrymen to the faith of their forefathers.
The inhabitants of London were to have two thoroughly happy days; there was to be a great execution on Thursday and another on Friday. Four traitors were to be hanged, drawn, and quartered on either day.
On Thursday, the 30th of January 1606, Sir Everard Digby was taken from his prison in the Tower to a doorway in front of which four horses were each harnessed to a separate wattled hurdle lying on the ground. He found three of his fellow-conspirators awaiting him—his late host, Robert Winter of Huddington, the courageous, but rough and pugnacious, John Grant of Norbrook, and—there being no respect of persons on the scaffold—Thomas Bates, Catesby’s servant.
Ordered to lie down on his back, with his head towards the horse’s tail, Sir Everard was tightly bound to the hurdle, and when all the four condemned men had been treated in the same manner, the procession started on its doleful journey. To be dragged through the muddy streets of London, to be splashed and saturated with their slush and filth, and to be bruised and shaken over the rough stones as the hurdle rose and fell over them, must have been as disagreeable as it was degrading; and the mile or more from the Tower to the place of execution—the west of St Paul’s Cathedral—was a long distance over which to be submitted to such an ordeal. To add to the sensations of disgrace, the streets were crowded, and nearly every window in Cheapside was filled with people watching the prisoners passing to their doom.
Every pains had been taken to render the execution as imposing as possible. A large number of soldiers accompanied the procession, and the Lord Mayor had issued an order to the Alderman of each ward of the city, ordering him to[416] “cause one able and sufficient person, with a halbard in his hand, to stand at the door of every several dwelling-house in the open street in the way that the traitors were to be drawn towards the place of execution, from seven in the morning until the return of the sheriff.” This was partly with a view to add dignity and importance to the terrible function, and partly to provide against tumult or raids by the mob.
When the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral fell upon his hurdle, Sir Everard knew that he was very near the scene of his execution; the crowd became greater at every step of the horse that was dragging him, and he had scarcely passed the great church before he found himself in a narrow lane formed by a densely packed mass of people, kept apart by a line of soldiers on either side.
Suddenly the horse that was drawing his hurdle stopped, and, on looking up, he saw the ghastly gallows by his side. There, also, was the long, low, thick table, or block, on which the quartering would take place; there, too, were the preparations for the fire in which certain portions of his body would be burnt before it went out.
He was liberated from the hurdle. Stiff and mud-bespattered, he got up and was led towards the gallows. He was then informed that he was to be the first to suffer. Many officials were present. The protestant clergy came forward and offered their services. He courteously refused them; but turning to the crowd, he begged the assistance and prayers of all good Catholics.[417] Even his enemies admitted that as he stood on the scaffold, he was[418] “a man of a goodly personage and a manly aspect,” although “his colour grew pale,” as well it might, after having been dragged on his back for a mile over the streets of that period; nor could a man be expected to carry much colour on his face immediately before being put to a horrible death in cold blood.
After saying a few prayers, he again turned to the people, and one of the officials asked him to acknowledge his treason before he died. He then made a short speech.