The Story Of The Regicides


The years 1675 and 1676 were years of terrible experience

for New England. The most dreadful of all the Indian

outbreaks of that region--that known as King Philip's

War--was raging, and hundreds of the inhabitants fell

victims to the ruthless rage of their savage foes. Whole

villages perished, their inhabitants being slain on the

spot, or carried away captive for the more cruel fate of

Indian vengeance. Th
province was in a state of terror, for

none knew at what moment the terrible war-whoop might sound,

and the murderous enemy be upon them with tomahawk and

brand.



Everywhere the whites were on the alert. The farmer went to

his fields with his musket as an indispensable companion.

Outlying houses were guarded like fortresses. Even places of

worship were converted into strongholds, and the people

prayed with musket in hand, and, while listening to the

exhortations of their pastors, kept keenly alive to the

sounds without, for none could tell at what moment the foe

might break in on their devotions.



In the frontier town of Hadley, Massachusetts, then on the

northwestern edge of civilization, on a day in the summer of

1676, the people were thus all gathered at the

meeting-house, engaged in divine service. It was a day of

fasting and prayer, set aside to implore God's aid to

relieve the land from the reign of terror which had come

upon it. Yet the devout villagers, in their appeal for

spiritual aid, did not forget the importance of temporal

weapons. They had brought their muskets with them, and took

part in the pious exercises with these carnal instruments of

safety within easy reach of their hands.



Their caution was well advised. In the midst of their

devotional exercises a powerful body of Indians made a

sudden onslaught upon the village. They had crept up in

their usual stealthy way, under cover of trees and bushes,

and their wild yells as they assailed the outlying houses

were the first intimation of their approach.



These alarming sounds reached the ears of the worshippers,

and quickly brought their devotional services to an end. In

an instant all thought of dependence upon the Almighty was

replaced by the instinct of dependence upon themselves.

Grasping their weapons, they hurried out, to find themselves

face to face with the armed and exultant savages, who now

crowded the village street, and whose cries of triumph

filled the air with discordant sounds.



The people were confused and frightened, huddled together

with little show of order or discipline, and void of the

spirit and energy necessary to meet their threatening foe.

The Indians were on all sides, completely surrounding them.

The suddenness of the alarm and the evidence of imminent

peril robbed the villagers of their usual vigor and

readiness, signs of panic were visible, and had the Indians

attacked at that moment the people must have been hurled

back in disorderly flight, to become in great part the

victims of their foes.



It was a critical moment. Was Hadley to suffer the fate of

other frontier towns, or would the recent prayers of pastor

and people bring some divine interposition in their favor?

Yes; suddenly it seemed as if God indeed had come to their

aid; for as they stood there in a state of nerveless dread a

venerable stranger appeared in their midst, a tall, stately

personage, with long white hair, and dressed in strange,

old-fashioned garb, his countenance beaming with energy and

decision.



"Quick," he cried, "into line and order at once! The Indians

are about to charge upon you. Take heart, and prepare for

them, or they will slaughter you like sheep."



With the air of one born to command, he hastily formed the

band of villagers into military array, displaying such skill

and ardor that their temporary fright vanished, to be

succeeded by courage and confidence. Had not the Almighty

sent this venerable stranger to their aid? Should they fear

when led by God's messenger?



"Now, upon them!" cried their mysterious leader. "We must

have the advantage of the assault!"



Putting himself at their head, he led them on with an ardor

remarkable in one of his years. The savages, who had been

swarming together preparatory to an attack, beheld with

surprise this orderly rush forward of the villagers, and

shrunk from their death-dealing and regular volleys. And the

white-haired form who led their foes with such fearless

audacity struck terror to their superstitious souls, filling

them with dread and dismay.



The struggle that followed was short and decisive. Animated

by the voice and example of their leader, the small band

attacked their savage enemies with such vigor and show of

discipline that in very few minutes the Indians were in full

flight for the wilderness, leaving a considerable number of

dead upon the ground. Of the villagers only two or three had

fallen.



The grateful people, when the turmoil and confusion of the

affray were over, turned to thank their venerable leader for

his invaluable aid. To their surprise he was nowhere to be

seen. He had vanished in the same mysterious manner as he

had appeared. They looked at one another in bewilderment.

What did this strange event signify? Had God really sent one

of his angels from heaven, in response to their prayers, to

rescue them from destruction? Such was the conclusion to

which some of the people came, while the most of them

believed that there was some miracle concerned in their

strange preservation.



This interesting story, which tradition has preserved in the

form here given, has a no less interesting sequel. We know,

what most of the villagers never knew, who their preserver

was, and how it happened that he came so opportunely to

their rescue. To complete our narrative we must go back

years in time, to the date of 1649, the year of the

execution of Charles I. of England.



Fifty-nine signatures had been affixed to the death-warrant

of this royal criminal. A number of the signers afterwards

paid the penalty of that day's work on the scaffold. We are

concerned here only with two of them, Generals Whalley and

Goffe, who, after the death of Cromwell and the return of

Charles II., fled for safety to New England, knowing well

what would be their fate if found in their mother-land. A

third of the regicides, Colonel Dixwell, afterwards joined

them in America, but his story is void of the romance which

surrounded that of his associates.



Whalley and Goffe reached Boston in July, 1660. The vessel

that brought them brought also tidings that Charles II. was

on the throne. The fugitives were well received. They had

stood high in the Commonwealth, brought letters of

commendation from Puritan ministers in England, and hoped to

dwell in peace in Cambridge, where they decided to fix their

residence. But the month of November brought a new story to

Boston. In the Act of Indemnity passed by Parliament the

names of Whalley and Goffe were among those left out. They

had played a part in the execution of the king, and to the

regicides no mercy was to be shown. Their estates were

confiscated; their lives declared forfeited; any man who

befriended them did so at his own peril.



These tidings produced excitement and alarm in Boston. The

Puritans of the colony were all warmly inclined towards

their endangered guests. Some would have protected them at

all hazards; others felt inclined to help them to escape; a

few thought it might be their duty to take them prisoners.



The illustrious fugitives settled this difficulty by

privately leaving Cambridge and making their way overland to

New Haven. Here they were well received. In truth, the Rev.

John Davenport, one of the founders of the colony, did not

hesitate to speak to his congregation in their behalf. We

quote from his bold and significant words, whose slightly

masked meaning his hearers failed not to understand.



"Withhold not countenance, entertainment, and protection

from the people of God,--whom men may call fools and

fanatics,--if any such come to you from other countries, as

from France or England, or any other place. Be not forgetful

to entertain strangers. Hide the outcasts, betray not him

that wandereth. Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, Moab. Be

thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler."



Mr. Davenport was not afraid to live up to the spirit of his

words. For several weeks the regicides dwelt openly in his

house. But meanwhile a proclamation from the king had

reached Boston, ordering their arrest as traitors and

murderers. News of its arrival was quickly received at New

Haven. The fugitives, despite the sympathy of the people,

were in imminent danger. Measures must be taken for their

safety.



They left New Haven and proceeded to Milford, where they

showed themselves in public. But by night they covertly

returned, and for more than a week lay hid in Mr.

Davenport's cellar. This cellar is still in existence, and

the place in it where the fugitives are said to have hidden

may still be seen.



But their danger soon grew more imminent. Peremptory orders

came from England for their arrest. Governor Endicott felt

obliged to act decisively. He gave commission to two young

royalists who had recently come from England, empowering

them to search through Massachusetts for the fugitives.

Letters to the governors of the other colonies, requesting

aid in their purpose, were also given them.



These agents of the king at once started on their mission of

death. They had no difficulty in tracing the fugitives to

New Haven. One person went so far as to tell them that the

men they sought were secreted in Mr. Davenport's house.

Stopping at Guilford, they showed their warrant to Mr.

Leete, the deputy-governor, and demanded horses for their

journey, and aid and power to search for and apprehend the

fugitives.



Deputy Leete had little heart for this task. He knew very

well where the fugitives were, but managed to make such

excuses and find so many reasons for delay that the agents,

who arrived on Saturday, were detained until Sunday, and

then, as this was Puritan New England, could not get away

till Monday. Meanwhile a secret messenger was on his way to

New Haven, to warn the fugitives of their danger. On

hearing this startling news they hastily removed from their

hiding-place in Mr. Davenport's house, and were taken to a

secluded mill two miles away.



The royal messengers reached New Haven and demanded the

assistance of the authorities in their search. They failed

to get it. Every obstacle was thrown in their way. They

equally failed to find any trace of the fugitives, though

the latter did not leave the immediate vicinity of the town.

After two days at the mill they were taken to a hiding-place

at a spot called Hatchet Harbor, and soon afterwards,

finding this place too exposed, they removed to a

cavern-like covert in a heap of large stones, near the

summit of West Rock, not far from the town. Here they

remained in hiding for several months, being supplied with

food from a lonely farm-house in the neighborhood.



The royal agents, finding their search fruitless and their

efforts to get aid from the magistrates vexatiously baffled,

at length returned to Boston, where they told a bitter story

of the obstinate and pertinacious contempt of his Majesty's

orders displayed by these New Haven worthies. The chase thus

given up, the fugitives found shelter in a house in Milford,

where they dwelt in seclusion for two years.



But danger returned. The king demanded blood-revenge for his

father's death. Commissioners from England reached Boston,

armed with extraordinary powers of search. The pursuit was

renewed with greater energy than before. The fugitives,

finding the danger imminent, and fearing to bring their

protectors into trouble, returned to their cave. Here they

lay for some time in security, while the surrounding country

was being actively scoured by parties of search. On one

occasion, when out of their place of shelter, they were so

nearly overtaken that they only escaped by hiding under a

bridge. This was what is known as Neck Bridge, over Mill

River. As they sat beneath it they heard above them the

hoof-beats of their pursuers' horses on the bridge. The

sleuth-hounds of the law passed on without dreaming how

nearly their victims had been within their reach. This was

not the only narrow escape of the fugitives. Several times

they were in imminent danger of capture, yet fortune always

came to their aid.






A day arrived in which the cave ceased to serve as a safe

harbor of refuge. A party of Indians, hunting in the woods,

discovered its lurking occupants. Fearing that the savages

might betray them, to obtain the large reward offered, the

fugitives felt it necessary to seek a new place of shelter.

A promising plan was devised by their friends, who included

all the pious Puritans of the colony. Leaving the vicinity

of New Haven, and travelling by night only, the aged

regicides made their way, through many miles of forest, to

Hadley, then an outpost in the wilderness. Here the Rev.

John Russell, who ministered to the spiritual wants of the

inhabitants, gladly received and sheltered them. His house

had been lately added to, and contained many rooms and

closets. In doing this work a hiding-place had been

prepared for his expected guests. One of the closets, in the

garret, had doors opening into two chambers, while its

floor-boards were so laid that they could be slipped aside

and admit to a dark under-closet. From this there seems to

have been a passage-way to the cellar.



With this provision for their retreat, in case the house

should be searched, Mr. Russell gave harbor to the hunted

regicides, the secret of their presence being known only to

his family and one or two of the most trusty inhabitants.

The fugitives, happily for them, had no occasion to avail

themselves of the concealed closet. Their place of hiding

remained for years unsuspected. In time the rigor of the

search was given up, and for many years they remained here

in safety, their secret being remarkably well kept. It was

in 1664 that they reached Hadley. In 1676, when Colonel

Goffe so opportunely served the villagers in their

extremity, so little was it known that two strangers had

dwelt for twelve years concealed in their midst, that some

of the people, as we have said, decided that their rescuer

must be an angel from heaven, in default of other

explanation of his sudden appearance.



There is little more to say about them. General Whalley died

at Hadley, probably in the year of the Indian raid, and was

buried in the cellar of Mr. Russell's house, his secret

being kept even after his death. His bones have since been

found there. As for General Goffe, his place of exit from

this earth is a mystery. Tradition says that he left

Hadley, went "westward towards Virginia," and vanished from

human sight and knowledge. The place of his death and burial

remains unknown.



It may be said, in conclusion, that Colonel Dixwell joined

his fellow-regicides in Hadley in 1665. He had taken the

name of Davids, was not known to be in America, and was

comparatively safe. He had no reason to hide, and dwelt in a

retired part of the town, where his presence and intercourse

doubtless went far to relieve the monotony of life of his

fellows in exile. He afterwards lived many years in New

Haven, where he spent much of his time in reading,--history

being his favorite study,--in walking in the neighboring

groves, and in intercourse with the more cultivated

inhabitants, the Rev. Mr. Pierpont being his intimate

friend. He married twice while here, and at his death left a

wife and two children, who resumed his true name, which he

made known in his last illness. His descendants are well

known in New England, and the Dixwells are among the most

respected Boston families of to-day.



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