Killers of the King

by Charles Spencer

  For now, Goffe and Whalley could feel safe in this, the most independent of the established American colonies, one that had taken the opening of the English Civil War as an excuse to dispense with the swearing of allegiance to the King. Once Charles I had been militarily defeated, Massachusetts Bay’s governors had dared to go further, claiming that their people lay outside of the reach of Parliament’s laws, or the King’s writ. Since 1652 the colony had minted its own coins with no mention of England on them, just ‘Massachusetts’ and a tree on one side and ‘New England’ with the date on the reverse. British royal power had not been felt for more than a decade, but such brazen assertions of colonial independence would now be tested, with the regicides at the centre of a power struggle with the newly restored Crown.

  Whalley and Goffe had been among the forty-four men cited in Charles II’s proclamation of 6 June 1660 which demanded that all those listed hand themselves in within two weeks, or else forfeit their lives and estates. The two men were excluded from the Act of Indemnity in August, and were then specifically addressed by another of the King’s decrees of 22 September, ‘For their execrable creations in sentencing to death, signing the instrument for the horrid murder, or being instrumental in taking away the precious life of our late dear father.’15 A reward of £100 was offered for either man’s arrest in any of the British dominions. If they resisted, the proclamation continued, they should be killed.

  These developments transformed their status in New England from one of honoured guests to that of contagious fugitives. In November, news of Goffe and Whalley’s exception from pardon reached Boston, and it was common knowledge that those who helped traitors would share their fate of hanging, drawing and quartering. There was considerable unease in Massachusetts as to what to do now. Many of the governors were anxious not to bow to the wishes of Charles II and the nation they termed ‘the State of England’, since this would set a precedent: they did not want to acknowledge that duty of obedience to the Crown which many had purposefully rejected when crossing the Atlantic. The colonists had not felt the royal yoke for nearly two decades, and they were unwilling to have it reapplied now. Others felt it best to hand over the duo in order to placate the new King: their security and trading rights, both of which were threatened by Dutch and French rivals, were underpinned by English arms. Captain Thomas Breedon was of such a belief, insisting to Governor Endecott that the two regicides be arrested and transported back to England, in the interests of justice and for the good of the colony.

  Endecott at first avoided making the difficult decision by claiming he could not act until a properly executed commission arrived from London. This prompted the marshal general of the colony, Edward Michelson, to turn on Breedon with the sing-song taunt, ‘Speak against Whalley and Goffe if you dare, if you dare, if you dare!’16

  Breedon set sail for England, keen to report in person to the King the regicides’ whereabouts and the names of those in New England who were blocking their arrest. His account was greeted in London with surprise and anger. The governor and his juniors soon heard rumours that Charles planned to bring the colony to heel. On 11 February, Endecott sent a ‘Humble Petition and Address to the King’, which implored Charles not to rush to judgment until he had heard Endecott’s detailed defence of his administration’s conduct. Soon afterwards Endecott and the Court of Assistants met to discuss what to do about Goffe and Whalley, while the two men awaited their fate in Cambridge.

  The members of the Court were unable to come to a conclusion. The fugitives thought it best to remove themselves from Massachusetts. They entrusted their possessions, which included a herd of cattle, to Daniel Gookin, their host in Cambridge. They asked Gookin and Captain Pierce (who had brought them to New England) to look after their affairs for them. Charles II’s commissioners later established that the two regicides then ‘were furnished with horses and a guide and sent away to New Haven’.17

  The colony of New Haven had been founded in the late 1630s, as a nursery bed for the religious aspirations of the Reverend John Davenport.* Davenport was an Oxford graduate who came from a wealthy family from Coventry in the English Midlands. His Puritan beliefs put him increasingly at odds with Charles I’s religious leaders and, taking the same path that had attracted Hugh Peters, he moved to what he assumed would be the more tolerant Netherlands (where he served as co-pastor of the English Church in Amsterdam), before further religious difficulties persuaded him to relocate to New England. Arriving in Boston he was disappointed with what he judged to be Massachusetts’s sloppy theology, and looked to establish a fresh community elsewhere, with religious orthodoxy at its core.

  The location of this ‘new haven’, arranged round a bay in the Long Island Sound that had once been a Dutch beaver-trading outpost, came about largely through Native American rivalries. The local Quiripi tribe had been reduced to just forty males by attacks from their Mohawk and Pequot enemies. These few survivors were persuaded by the wealthy London merchant, Theophilus Eaton – a former ambassador of Charles I and a childhood friend of Davenport’s – to give up enough land to 500 European settlers for the building of seven settlements, in return for armed protection. They also received exotic European gifts: a dozen coats, alchemy spoons, hatchets, hoes, porringers, as well as two dozen knives, and a further four cases of French knives and scissors. At the end of 1638 an additional purchase – this time involving thirteen coats, handed to the Monotowese tribe – secured a further 130 square miles for the new colony. Both the tribes of Native Americans who sold to the settlers were allowed to grow crops on part of the land, and to hunt over all of it: effectively, this was the first occasion when indigenous North Americans were placed on a reservation by white settlers.

  The administration of New Haven was placed under the control of the newly elected Governor Eaton, who organised a union with surrounding towns, and formulated a legal code for the new colony. Eaton was returned to the post of governor each year until his death in 1658. He was succeeded by Francis Newman, before Newman died in November 1660. Goffe and Whalley would arrive in this religious utopia while the governorship of New Haven was vacant. The man overseeing things in the meantime was Deputy Governor William Leete, a forty-seven-year-old lawyer who had emigrated from England as a young man, disgusted by Charles I’s treatment of the Puritans. Leete was a committed republican.

  Goffe and Whalley left Boston, riding through snowfall towards New Haven. On the way they spent several nights in Hartford, where Governor Winthrop received them with kindness. They reached their destination on 7 March, and went immediately to meet the Reverend John Davenport. Davenport had prepared the people for the outsiders’ arrival as best he could, addressing the meeting house before their arrival with an exhortation inspired by a passage from the Book of Hebrews: ‘Withhold not countenance, entertainment, and protection, from such, if they come to us from other countries, as from France or England or any other place. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them, and them who suffer adversity as being yourselves also in the body . . . While we are attending to our duty in owning and harbouring Christ’s witnesses, God will be providing for their and our safety, by destroying those that would destroy his people.’18

  Probably as part of a prearranged plan, it was not until several days after the pair had left Boston that Endecott finally made a show of doing the King’s bidding. He prepared an arrest warrant, which he committed to Edward Michelson to execute as he saw fit: Endecott was well aware that Michelson’s sympathies lay with the regicides.

  On 27 March news that the search for Goffe and Whalley was under way reached them in New Haven. The following day, in an attempt to mislead their pursuers, they bade a noisy farewell to friends, letting everyone know that they were heading for New Amsterdam. Proceeding to the new settlement of Milford, they very publicly announced their arrival there, again spreading the falsehood that they were en route for ‘the Ma
nhados’ (Manhattan). That night, they retraced their footsteps and hid in Davenport’s home. They stayed there for five weeks. This was when they learnt of the horrific executions carried out on their ten fellow regicides. Shock at what they heard must have been tempered by the realisation that fleeing their homeland had saved their lives.

  After learning from Captain Breedon how some in New England were aiding or sheltering his father’s killers, Charles II had sent a sharp communication to Governor Endecott:

  Trusty and well-beloved, We greet you well. We being given to understand that Colonel Whalley and Colonel Goffe, who stand here convicted for the execrable murder of our Royal Father, of glorious memory, are lately arrived at New England, where they hope to shroud themselves from the justice of our laws; Our will and pleasure is, and we do hereby expressly require and command you . . . to cause both the said persons to be apprehended, and with the first opportunity sent over hither under a strict care, to receive according to their demerits. We are confident of your readiness and diligence to perform your duty; and so bid you farewell.19

  The key word in this message was ‘command’, with its reminder of ‘duty’. There was absolute expectation that this matter would be dealt with quickly and conclusively.

  When Endecott received the letter he realised he must act in order to protect his colony from royal wrath and retribution. He therefore appointed ‘two zealous Royalists’ – Thomas Kellond, a merchant, and Thomas Kirke, a ship’s master – to oversee the capture of the major generals. The two commissioners were told to disseminate copies of the King’s letter to the governors of the surrounding English colonies, as well as to Pieter Stuyvesant, the Dutch director general of the colony of New Netherland, who was based in New Amsterdam.

  Kellond and Kirke left Boston with a guide on the evening of 7 May, in their words, ‘in search after Colonels Goffe and Whalley (persons declared traitors to his Majesty)’.20 They arrived in Hartford three days later and met with Governor Winthrop, who proved supportive. ‘The honourable governor carried himself very nobly to us,’ they reported, ‘and was very diligent to supply us with all manner of conveniences for the prosecution of them, and promised all diligent search should be made after them in that jurisdiction, which was afterwards performed.’21 Winthrop informed them that the two regicides had left the town some time previously, but he would be happy to organise a sweep of the area in case they had somehow returned, without his knowledge.

  Keen to catch their men, Kellond and Kirke pushed on to Guilford, the capital of New Haven, where, on 11 May, they showed Deputy Governor Leete papers explaining their mission. Leete read these out aloud in front of men visiting his home, prompting the Royalists to advise, ‘It is convenient to be more private in such concernments.’22 They feared he was intentionally broadcasting the confidential information, so those listening could get word to the fugitives. Leete took the pursuers aside and told them that Goffe and Whalley had not been seen in his jurisdiction for nine weeks. Kellond and Kirke countered that this differed from what they had heard. They demanded that Leete assist them by making out the arrest warrant and providing fresh mounts for their sixteen-mile journey on to New Haven.

  Kellond and Kirke retired to an inn, awaiting the horses and the authorisation to bring the regicides in. There they were approached by Dennis Scranton, a Guilford resident who bore a grudge against Leete for having had him publicly whipped. Scranton shared with them that – as he was sure Leete knew – Goffe and Whalley were staying with the Reverend John Davenport, in New Haven. This, Scranton said, would explain Davenport’s recent purchase of £10 worth of fresh provisions, which he was storing in his home. Others now confirmed to Endecott’s men that they, too, had seen the two fugitives outside Davenport’s house, and also travelling to and from the nearby dwelling of William Jones. It was believed, Scranton revealed, that one regicide was living with Jones, the other with Davenport.

  The Royalist agents rushed back to Leete, demanding immediate delivery of the warrant and the horses, as well as reinforcements. Leete said he would happily help them with their transport, but he needed to consult colleagues about the legal paperwork. He pointed out that, unfortunately, it being a Saturday evening, there was nothing that could be done in this regard until the Monday morning, as the Sabbath must be observed. A furious Kellond and Kirke threatened to push on without the warrants before the major generals could flee. Leete pointed out that if they tried to do that, he would have to have them arrested for breaking the Sabbath.

  As they kicked their heels that weekend, the Royalists were kept up to date with developments by the vengeful Scranton. He warned them that there was an old Native American and a man called John Meigs who seemed, separately, to be preparing to ride to New Haven, no doubt to warn Goffe and Whalley of the imminent danger. Kellond and Kirke demanded that Leete bring both men in for questioning, but the governor said he had no reason to do so, and refused.

  As the commissioners had feared, these delays gained a head start for the regicides. ‘To our certain knowledge,’ Kellond and Kirke reported, ‘one John Meigs was sent a-horseback before us, and by his speedy and unexpected going so early before day was to give them an information; and the rather because by the delays which were used it was break of day before we got to horse; so he got there before us.’23 The arrival of this news prompted the preacher to transfer care of both regicides to William Jones, who moved them by night to a remote mill he owned, two miles northwest of New Haven.

  Knowing that Leete could only delay their pursuers for a while, Goffe and Whalley showed themselves in the street the next morning before laying another false trail in the direction of Guilford. They had not gone far when they were cornered by the marshal, Thomas Kimberly, who had set off after them in solitary pursuit. When he tried to take them prisoner the two old warriors stood with their backs to a tree, cudgels in hand, poised to fight. Kimberly realised he needed reinforcements, and returned to New Haven.

  At a crossing point known as Mill River, Goffe and Whalley heard horses galloping towards them: Kimberly and a posse of men. With no cover in sight, they ran back to the bridge. The base of the crossing was only a foot above the waterline, but there was nowhere else to conceal themselves, so the pair jumped into the water and remained there while their pursuers charged on overhead. When it was safe, they clambered onto the riverbank and headed quietly back to Jones’s mill.

  Earlier that same day, Kirke and Kellond had ridden from Guilford to New Haven where Leete was due to summon the local magistrates to hear their requests. Kellond and Kirke demanded once more that Leete come to authorise their arrest warrants, but were met with more excuses and stalling. The pair noted that the deputy arrived only ‘within two hours or thereabout after us, and came to us to the court-chamber, where we again acquainted him with the information we had received, and that we had cause to believe they were concealed in New Haven, and thereupon we required his assistance and aid for their apprehension; to which he answered, that he did not believe they were. Whereupon we desired him to empower us, or order others for it; to which he gave us this answer, that he could not, nor would not, make us magistrates.’24

  Leete again advised them that they were wasting their time: the men they sought were not in New Haven. The Royalists insisted they at least be allowed to search the homes of Davenport and Jones. When Leete wavered, they reminded him of his duty and loyalty to the King. Leete retired to discuss the matter with his colleagues, saying that he was troubled at the precedent he would be setting if he complied with a proclamation addressed to the ‘Governor of New England’, since there was no such person, or office. After five or six hours, Leete returned, still not prepared to cooperate. Noting that the deputy was declining to help them in ways that the governors of Connecticut and Massachusetts had readily done, Kellond and Kirke warned Leete, ‘how ill his sacred Majesty would resent such horrid and detestable concealments and abettings of such traitors and regicides as they were’. They asked him ‘whether
he would honour and obey the King or no in this affair, and set before him the danger which by law is incurred by anyone that conceals, or abets traitors, to which the Deputy Leete answered: “We honour His Majesty, but we have tender consciences.” To which we replied, that we believed that he knew where they were, and only pretended tenderness of conscience for a refusal.’25

  Leete now retired for a further two hours of deliberations. Still blocking the Royalists’ demands, he confided to one of them that he wished he had been a simple ploughman rather than an elected official, because he found his duties such a burden. Kellond and Kirke would have none of it. ‘We told him,’ they reported, ‘that for their respect to two traitors they would do themselves injury and possibly ruin themselves and the whole colony of New Haven.’26 Leete said he would summon the General Court for the Jurisdiction which, given the distance that some of its members lived from the town, would not be able to meet for four days.

  During this protracted delay Kellond and Kirke received a tip-off that the regicides had been seen entering the home of a widow, Mrs Johanna Allerton, whose husband had been a leading figure in the Plymouth colony, having crossed from England on the Mayflower four decades earlier. As the pursuers approached her house, Goffe and Whalley exited Mrs Allerton’s home and then doubled back. Mrs Allerton beckoned them into a large kitchen cupboard that had a false front, which she hung with a screen of kitchen utensils. When the Royalists arrived, demanding to know where the regicides were, she said they had just left through her back door. Her matter-of-fact manner was so convincing that the agents and their redcoats continued on. Goffe and Whalley then returned to the proven safety of Jones’s isolated mill.

  Kellond and Kirke had, by now, had their fill of this wild goose chase: they guessed that the fugitives would make their way to Manhattan, where the King of England’s edicts held no sway and where it would be easier to hide. This was a community that was, as Russell Shorto wrote in The Island at the Centre of the World, ‘not a city with its own structure of governance but literally a company town: its inhabitants were considered less citizens than employees, and there was no real legal system’.27 Pieter Stuyvesant promised to watch for the judges’ arrival in his ramshackle jurisdiction, and forbade all shipping from transporting the runaway Englishmen out of New Amsterdam. At the same time he arranged discreet inspections of ships at anchor, hoping to discover Goffe and Whalley stowed on board.