[419]“Sir Everard Digby” says Stow, “protested from the bottome of his heart, he asked forgivenesse of God, the King, the Queene, the Prince, and all the Parliament, and if that hee had knowne it at first to have ben so foule a treason, he would not have concealed it to have gayned a world, requiring the people to witnesse he died penitent and sorrowfull for this vile Treason, and confident to be saved in the merits of his sweet Saviour Jesus, etc.”
Still, he declared most solemnly[420] that while he was quite willing to die for his offence, he had not been impelled to commit the treason by feelings of ill-will towards any living creature, or a desire for self-advancement or worldly gains. His sole motive had been to put an end to the persecutions of Catholics, to benefit human souls, and to serve the cause of religion. The action itself he acknowledged to have been sinful; the intentions which prompted it he protested to have been pure.
“His speech was not long,”[421] and, when it was ended he knelt down, made the sign of the Cross, and said some prayers in a low voice in Latin, “often bowing his head to the ground,” says Stow, “mumbling to himself,” and “refusing to have any prayers of any but of the Romish Catholics,” says the hostile historian in the Somers’ Tracts, he “fell to his prayers with such devotion as moved all the beholders,” states his friend Father Gerard, who goes on to say:—“And when he had done, he stood up and saluted all the noblemen and gentlemen that stood upon the scaffold, every one according to his estate, to the noblemen with a lower congé, to others with more show of equality, but to all in so friendly and so cheerful a manner, as they afterwards said, he seemed so free from fear of death, as that he showed no feeling at all of any passion therein, but took his leave of them as he was wont to do when he went from the Court or out of the city to his own house in the country; yet he showed so great devotion of mind, so much fervour and humility in his prayers, and so great confidence in God, as that very many said[422] they made no doubt but his soul was happy, and wished themselves might die in the like state of mind.”
The hangman now came up to assist him in his preparations for execution. Before going to the gallows for hanging and quartering, the condemned man was stripped, with the exception of his shirt. This humiliating process having been completed, with his hands bound, Sir Everard accompanied the executioner to the foot of the ladder, and saying, “Oh! Jesu, Jesu, save me and keep me,” he ascended it, as also did the hangman.
I should like to let the curtain fall here; but, were I to do so, my story would be incomplete.
The punishment of hanging, drawing, and quartering was so horrible, that it was often mitigated by allowing the victim to hang until he was dead. This might well have been done in the case of Sir Everard Digby. To be hung, partially naked, knowing that his body would afterwards be hacked to pieces in the most disgraceful manner before the eyes of an immense concourse of people, should have been considered a sufficient punishment. But no! Not even was he permitted to be to some extent stupefied by being half-strangled. The executioner had no sooner turned him off the ladder than he cut the rope.[423] Sir Everard “fell on his face and bruised his forehead.” Then followed a scene of vivisection and butchery,[424] which would not be tolerated in these days if the subject were a sheep or an ox. Yet even on the awful block, Sir Everard never betrayed his dignity;[425] and, condemn his offences as we may, we cannot fairly refuse to give him credit for having died like a good Christian, a courteous gentleman, and a courageous Englishman.
No biographer ever felt more genuine sorrow for his subject than have I for Sir Everard Digby. My sympathy for him has been the greater because he was, like myself, a convert to the Roman Catholic Church; because both he and I were received into that Church by Fathers of the Society of Jesus; because, both in his house and in mine, Jesuits have very frequently been welcomed as guests, and because in my private chapel, as in his, they have often acted as chaplains. Moreover, an additional bond between Sir Everard Digby and myself is the fact that he was my ancestor. Nevertheless, I hope that I have not allowed any of these accidents of faith or family to induce me wilfully to conceal an incident important to his history, to gloss over a mistake that he committed, to put a dishonest construction upon one of his actions, or to say an untrue word either about himself, or any other character that has been introduced among these pages. Like his own life, my attempt at recounting it may be disfigured by mistaken zeal, false inferences, and rash conclusions; or possibly my authorities, like his friends, may have led me into error; if so, before laying down my pen, like Sir Everard Digby, before laying down his life, let me admit the offence, but declare that it was prompted by no unworthy motive.
FOOTNOTES:
[405] See Cardinal Newman in Present Position of Catholics, p. 351.