Jon Miller photo
Pursuit of the Regicides mural at the Westville library.
March 18 is the anniversary of John Dixwell’s death. For more than three centuries, Whalley and Goffe have gotten almost all the attention. Time to give New Haven’s other regicide his due.
Jon Miller, a freelance writer living in Westville, stepped up to the challenge. He is currently working on a book about the Regicides, from which we are publishing three excerpted articles. This is the first.
Sometime in 1665, a stranger showed up in the small village of Hadley, Massachusetts. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance. He was middle aged, 58 to be precise, and stood about 5’7.” If he spoke to anyone, it was probably to ask the way to Reverend Russell‘s house.
Everyone in Hadley knew the house and the man who built it. They had followed John Russell from Wethersfield when he founded the town just a few years before. But the new arrival knew what many of Russell’s neighbors did not, that the minister was harboring two of the most wanted men in New England, Edward Whalley and William Goffe.
Like them, the stranger was a regicide, one of the 59 commissioners who 16 years before had sat in judgment at the trial of King Charles I. It was the first time a reigning monarch had been tried for an abuse of power. Before that, only the king’s ministers and favorites were ever brought to trial. The king himself was considered above the law.
But this time was different. The concept of self-rule was just catching fire in England and Charles had thrown fuel on the flames by disbanding parliament and imposing his will as absolute ruler of both the nation and the church.
In a historic trial well known to the authors of the U.S. Constitution’s impeachment clause, Charles was accused of high treason against the people, found guilty, and executed.
Now the king’s son, Charles II, was on the throne and out for blood. If the regicides were caught, they would be shipped back to England in chains, tried and brutally executed. That’s why Whalley and Goffe were hiding out in Russell’s house. And it was why their friend had decided to use the name James Davids instead of his own. His real name, the one he used when he signed the king’s death warrant, was John Dixwell.
The Regicides Tell Their Stories
Dixwell’s uncle, Basil.
Once the trial had ended, the three regicides had gone their separate ways. Together now for the first time in years, they had a lot of catching up to do.
The story Whalley and Goffe told is familiar to many. They fled to Boston as soon as it became clear the new king was coming back. Welcomed as heroes at first, the two regicides were soon forced to flee again. New Haven colonists risked their lives hiding them as they moved from house to house. When things got too hot in town, Whalley and Goffe found refuge in Judges Cave atop West Rock and later with a family in Milford.
Three years later, a fleet of warships arrived with orders to get the regicides and take control of the colonies once and for all. The wanted men fled one last time to their mountain hideout, but when a group of Quinnipiac hunters noticed them hiding amidst the boulders, they left New Haven for good and headed for Hadley.
That’s the story Dixwell heard. The one he told was as different as he was from his fellow regicides.
While Whalley and Goffe were trying to earn a living as apprentices in trade, Dixwell was studying law at the Inns of Court in London. A few years later, the would-be merchants joined the parliamentary army fighting against King Charles. Dixwell’s older brother Mark joined up as well but on the other side.
John Dixwell was 36 and unmarried when Mark was killed at the Battle of Arundel. Like so many others, the brothers stood on opposite sides of the conflict. While Mark died fighting to preserve the monarchy and the established church, John was a Puritan opposed to the king’s repressive rule.
Now that Mark was gone, though, any lingering resentment had to be put aside in the interest of family. Mark’s grieving widow and children now commanded Dixwell’s full attention. Money at least was not a problem. Mark had recently inherited Broome Park, the 250-acre estate of his uncle, Sir Basil Dixwell, and had in turn left it all — the grand house, stables and gardens — to his own eldest son. But little Basil was just three at the time, so Mark had left his brother in charge of the estate until his boy came of age.
Ironically it was Mark’s death fighting to defend King Charles that led to John’s involvement in the king’s trial and execution five years later. Once he took charge of Broome Park, John Dixwell became a prominent citizen. He was made a county official and when Dover’s member of Parliament died, John was elected to take his place. That put him in the House of Commons in December of 1648.
The king had been captured more than a year before and military leaders had been trying to negotiate a settlement with him ever since. By the end of 1648 they had had enough. Oliver Cromwell and others called for a trial, parliament refused, and the army took control. On Dec. 6, 1648 Thomas Pride and his men took up positions in front of parliament and kept anyone on their list of opposition members from entering. By the time Pride’s Purge was over, only a fraction of the MPs remained. John Dixwell was among them. Within days, the so-called Rump Parliament voted to bring the king to trial.
One hundred thirty-five commissioners were nominated to serve as judges. When the trial got underway on Jan. 20, fewer than half that number showed up. Some had philosophical objections, others found the very thought of trying the king unthinkable. Many were simply too scared. Several who did attend, withdrew before the sentence was passed. Dixwell, Whalley and Goffe were among those who attended every day of the trial and signed the warrant condemning the king to death.
Next time — Part Two: Dixwell and three other regicides escape to Germany, pursued by a brilliant psychopath.
