Hence may we say, of a surety, has it been proved that Edward Oldcorne,
Priest and Jesuit, used words which imply that, as a fact, he viewed the
Plot _ante factum_, before the fact, and in the abstract merely.
That, being a man as good as he was clever, and as clever as he was good,
he must have had his warranting reasons, his justifying reasons, his
vindicating reasons for so doing, when such a course of action was
obviously likely to be attended with danger from misinterpretation from
both the fool and the knave; from both the man lacking thought and from
the man lacking heart.
That such warranting reasons, such justifying reasons, such vindicating
reasons would be found in the fact that Oldcorne knew the Plot was no
longer a plot, but a scheme emptied and defecated of all evil, all
murderous, all criminous, all sacrilegious quality. Nay, that it was a
scheme sublimated and transfigured by his (Oldcorne’s) own superabounding
merit and virtue in relation to the once diabolical, but then repented of,
prodigious plan.
Therefore is the inevitable conclusion pressed upon us with resistless
force, that, according to the changeless laws which govern man’s
intellectual and moral nature, Oldcorne must have had some _official or
semi-official particular and private knowledge_ of the thirteen Gunpowder
traitors’ heinous project, as distinct from and in addition to that merely
personal, general knowledge, which he necessarily cannot have failed to
possess in his capacity of an ordinary English citizen: some professional
or quasi-professional special, private knowledge, as distinct from that
general, public, common knowledge, which every sane man then a subject of
the British Crown could not help not being possessed of, at that very
instant of time when Humphrey Littleton propounded to the great casuist
Humphrey Littleton’s aforetime unhappy question.[A]
[Footnote A: It is quite clear to my mind that Christopher Wright, the
revealing plotter, must have himself expressly freed his confessor from
the obligation to _absolute_ secrecy, which the seal of the Confessional
would impose. It may have been that Oldcorne made this a condition
precedent to his agreeing to pen the Letter. Or, it may have been that
Wright’s own strong Catholic instincts and natural sense of justice
suggested the necessity of this course. As already remarked, a natural
secret, that is, a something that is not a sin, which alone forms matter
for Sacramental Confession, may _indirectly_ come under the seal, if the
confessor promises expressly or impliedly to accept the natural secret
under the obligations of the seal. But in Wright’s case there could be no
question of his communication being in the nature of a natural secret
protected _indirectly_ by the seal by reason of Oldcorne’s promise. And
though _freed_ by the penitent from the duty of absolute secrecy, Oldcorne
would be still under a positive duty _of discretion_.]
I say advisedly _aforetime unhappy question_.
For, I respectfully maintain that the ratiocinative faculty to-day, of a
surety, demonstrates that in the majestic cause of impartial, severe,
historical truth, the act of this frail, erring child of man, Humphrey
Littleton, has proved itself now to be thrice happy.
“_O felix culpa!_” “O happy fault!” Out of bitterness is come forth
sweetness.
Humphrey Littleton was not pardoned by King James, his Privy Council, and
Government, notwithstanding the invaluable disclosures he had made.[168]
This high-born English gentleman was executed at Redhill, Worcester, on
the 7th day of April, 1606, along with (among others) another open rebel,
John Winter, the half-brother of Robert Winter and Thomas Winter, the
Gunpowder traitors.
Humphrey Littleton, we are told by his contemporary, Father John Gerard,
asked forgiveness of Father Oldcorne more than once, and said that he had
wronged him much.
He also asked forgiveness of Mr. Abington, who, though condemned to death,
was ultimately pardoned at his wife’s and Lord Mounteagle’s intercession.
Humphrey Littleton “died with show of great repentance, and so with sorrow
and humility and patient acceptance of his death made amends for his
former frailty and too unworthy desire of life.”
Stephen Littleton, the Master of Holbeach——who had likewise joined in the
rebellion in the Midlands, under Sir Everard Digby, which grew out of the
Gunpowder Plot, although a distinct movement from it, albeit connected
with the Plot——was made a public example of in his native County of
Staffordshire, _in terrorem_, as a terror to evil-doers: this unfortunate
English gentleman suffering the extreme penalty of the law, according to
his contemporary, the aforesaid Father John Gerard, in the ancient town of
Stafford.