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.