Giving Dixwell His Due, Part 2

March 18 was 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 is a freelance writer living in Westville. He is currently working on a book about the Regicides, from which these articles are adapted. Click here to read Part One of this series.

Ten years after his father was executed, King Charles II stepped ashore in Dover. He was already at work on a list of regicides targeted for execution. Crowds cheered the young monarch as Dover Castle, where John Dixwell had once been governor, fired off its cannons in celebration. 

Edward Whalley and William Goffe had already left the country when a royal proclamation was issued a short time later naming the regicides targeted by the court. Dixwell and the others on the list had 14 days to turn themselves in.

Showing the same calm bravado that allowed him to thrive in New Haven years later, Dixwell had a relative, probably his niece Elizabeth, send word that he would obey the king’s summons as soon as he could. At present though, the court was told, Dixwell was too ill to comply.

The ruse worked, giving Dixwell the time he needed to safeguard his brother’s estate and his own more modest holdings. Then, like many others, he headed for the Continent, where several Puritan-friendly communities had been established.

Dixwell ended up in Hanau, Germany, where he and three other regicides — Valentine Walton, John Barkstead, and John Okey — soon became respected citizens (burgesses) — at least for a time. 

As settled as he may have felt in Hanau, Dixwell knew he was a wanted man. The king had agents scouring the continent for escaped regicides.

The most fearsome was George Downing, for whom London’s Downing Street is named. Today, Downing would be considered a brilliant psychopath. During his life, he was known as a diplomat and a financial wizard who started with nothing and died a rich man. To Samuel Pepys, who knew him all too well, Downing was ​“a perfidious rogue.”

Few were as well trained as Downing in the dark arts of espionage. Having served as parliament’s spymaster during and after the war, he knew how to recruit informers, willing or otherwise, and weave them into an effective intelligence network. He honed his skills over 15 years working for those opposed to the king. Now, it was time to change sides.

To avoid becoming one of the hunted, Downing had to establish his bona fides as a hunter with the new king. It was a tough sell. Not only had he fought against the king for years and avidly supported the king’s most hated enemy, Oliver Cromwell. Downing was also known as a devout Puritan. 

He had been raised in the faith by his parents, who emigrated to Massachusetts in 1638. Before making the trip, Lucy Downing wrote to her brother, Governor John Winthrop, urging him to create a college suitable for her son George. A few years later, Downing graduated from Harvard, and eager for adventure, sailed back to England where war had broken out. He used his religious training to get a post as chaplain in Colonel John Okey’s regiment, before realizing his true talents lay elsewhere. 

Now that Charles II was returning to the throne, Downing sent a message to the new king, using a member of the king’s staff whom he had been blackmailing for years. Downing blamed everything on his parents. He told the king he had ​“sucked in principles” as a child he now knew to be ​“erroneous.”

As for his loyalty, Downing made it clear that it now belonged entirely to Charles. To prove his fealty, he gave the king secret intelligence gathered under Cromwell, then offered to put his own talents and considerable assets to work for the crown. By the time Charles set foot on English soil, Downing had been knighted.

The Hunt Begins

Downing’s first chance to prove himself was a new assignment in the Hague. He was to find and flush out the numerous regicides in the region. He swore to the king he would do ​“as much as if my life lay at stake,” which it did of course, adding, ​“If my father were in the way, I would not avoid him for my loyalty.”

After asking if the king would like him to simply kill those he found, Downing began crafting more subtle approaches. His first effort failed when the Dutch authorities leaked the identity of the target. Vowing not to repeat his mistake, Downing took careful aim at two of the regicides living in Hanau. 

Why he missed Dixwell is a matter of speculation. I suspect Dixwell was already using the pseudonym, James Davids. His niece sent him letters addressed to that name, and signed herself using the code name Eliza Boyes, the surname of the MP Dixwell had replaced in Dover.

Although we only have letters from his time in New Haven, it makes sense that Dixwell and his niece would have agreed on the names before he left England, during the two weeks she helped him stall the authorities.

In any case, Downing did not go after Dixwell. The two Hanau regicides he targeted were John Okey, the officer who had given him his start in the army, and John Barkstead, the universally despised keeper of the Tower under Cromwell. 

Their whereabouts were revealed by Abraham Kicke, a merchant living in Delft who had the regicides’ complete trust. Downing turned him easily by offering a bounty of £200 per regicide and threatening to destroy Kicke’s business if he didn’t cooperate.

Downing had Kicke invite the two men to meet their wives at his home in Delft. When Barkstead expressed misgivings, Downing dictated the reassuring letter Kicke sent in reply. He also had Kicke invite a third regicide, Miles Corbet to increase the yield. Then he sprung the trap.

Soldiers and others he had recruited for the job, knocked on the door. The moment it was opened they burst in on the three men who were sitting by the fire smoking pipes and drinking beer. The regicides scrambled to escape, but were soon locked up and under guard.

Eluding crowds of sympathizers demanding the release of Okey, Barkstead, and Corbet, Downing got his quarry back to London, where in short order they were tried, convicted, and drawn and quartered.

Okey went to his death with remarkable calm, forgiving Downing and wishing the king success. While thousands reveled in his execution, thousands more attended his funeral, so many in fact that Charles revoked his promise of allowing Okey a Christian burial. Instead his remains, like Barkstead’s and Corbet’s, were dumped in an unmarked grave.

It is easy enough to imagine the effect of all this on Dixwell. We don’t know for sure what happened between the capture of his Hanau friends in 1661 and his first appearance in Hadley four years later, but Dixwell can’t have wasted much time getting as far away from Downing as he could.

He probably traveled to Amsterdam or The Hague. Given how well Downing had the region covered, it would have been slow going. Dixwell most likely traveled at night, avoiding main thoroughfares. 

The colonies were an obvious choice for someone looking to escape Downing and the other royal agents swarming around the continent. Even if he knew that Whalley and Goffe had sailed to Boston — and there is no reason to think he did — it is highly unlikely that Dixwell knew about their struggles. Like all Puritans, he would have viewed New England as a safe haven where he would be welcomed by fellow countrymen who shared his faith.

Wherever he sailed from, once he landed in New England, all those who helped Whalley and Goffe in Massachusetts and Connecticut would have shown Dixwell how to make his way safely to Hadley.

Next time — Part Three: Dixwell leaves Whalley and Goffe in Hadley for a new life in New Haven.