When the British monarchy was restored in 1660, King Charles II was faced with the conundrum of what to with those who had been involved in the execution of his father eleven years earlier. Facing a grisly fate at the gallows, some of the men who had signed Charles I's death warrant fled to America.
Charles I's Killers in America traces the gripping story of two of these men -- Edward Whalley and William Goffe -- and their lives in America, from their welcome in New England until their deaths there. With fascinating insights into the governance of the American colonies in the seventeenth century, and how a network of colonists protected the regicides, Matthew Jenkinson overturns the enduring theory that Charles II unrelentingly sought revenge for the murder of his father.
Charles I's Killers in America also illuminates the regicides' afterlives, with conclusions that have far-reaching implications for our understanding of Anglo-American political and cultural relations. Novels, histories, poems, plays, paintings, and illustrations featuring the fugitives were created against the backdrop of America's revolutionary strides towards independence and its forging of a distinctive national identity. The history of the 'king-killers' was distorted and embellished as they were presented as folk heroes and early champions of liberty, protected by proto-revolutionaries fighting against English tyranny. Jenkinson rewrites this once-ubiquitous and misleading historical orthodoxy, to reveal a far more subtle and compelling picture of the regicides on the run.
As an eighth generation descendant of a Virginia Whaley, I confess to once having been "a genealogy hunter determined to associate [my] family with revolutionary lineage", as Jenkinson defines the more recent stakeholders in the regicides' history. That's probably why the book appealed to me. Instead, it is an adroitly written biography of the evolution of a factual story into a myth in the service of American passion for liberty from despots. A most enjoyable read.
Jenkinson’s book is divided into two parts. The first, “lives,” describes Edward Whalley and William Goffe’s biographies, participation in the regicide, and flight to America based on original sources. I will say that the reliance on printed material and secondary sources was a bit underwhelming for me, but I also know an incredible amount of early New England material is available in print, so I don’t hold that too much against Jenkinson.
The second section, “afterlives,” centers on the metahistory of the regicides on the run. How have people since the 17th century deployed the story of the regicides? Unsurprisingly for figures concerned with tyrannicide (or regicide) they have frequently been a touchstone for politics. Thomas Hutchinson, writing as a royalist in the lead-up to the American Revolution, argued that the regicides were largely rejected by local colonists, who as loyal subjects refused to countenance the king’s killers. Ezra Stiles, writing in the 1790s, saw the regicides both as the forerunners of American liberty, and more specifically as a tool to oppose executive tyranny. Stiles’s interpretation has normally been the dominant one in the United States, and 19th century authors amplified it by turning Whalley and Goffe into chivalrous knights-errant, resisting tyranny on the run.
The most interesting element for me is the salience of the 17th century political conflicts in the 18th century. the regicides provided a useful story for all kinds of politics surrounding tyranny and rebellion. the English Civil Wars continued to be a useful touchstone for authors in the 18th and 19th centuries.
Jenkinson explains the fluctuations in the prevalence of the regicide story largely as the outcome of contemporary acts of political violence, especially assassinations. Thus after Lincoln, and after the 1960s, the story of the regicides fell into disuse. This process was made stronger as the caricatures of the regicides made them seem less interesting or useful talking points than other figures in American history, most obviously the founding fathers.
Tough to give this one a mediocre grade. Overall, I’m pleased to have read it. It’s a compelling story I knew nothing about. Very glad I read it, and if you’re considering it as a topic of interest, definitely read it.
But there just isn’t that much meat on the bone. The known details of the story are good, but limited. So the “afterlife” portion delves into how the story, itself, was treated through American history. Which, I guess, is something? I don’t know. But it occupies nearly half the overall book. That is where it bogged-down for me, sapping interest, and taking months to finally complete. I don’t know if author did a good job or a bad job with that, I just no it failed to capture my attention or feel clearly written at that point.
Among those who signed Charles I’s death warrant were Edward Whaley and his son-in-law, William Goffe. After the Stuarts were restored, and Charles II declined to forgive the regicides, the two men fled to the American colonies where they were essentially hidden and protected until their deaths. Matthew Jenkinson, in a remarkably well-researched book, not only traces the men’s hiding places, hosts, and pursuers, he ties subsequent books, art, essays and so on to their American sojourn— right up to the American revolution. A fictional version, and more easily read, is Robert Harris’s novel “Act of Oblivion.”
This is, weirdly, a direct sequel to my own book, Creating Memory: Historical Fiction and the English Civil Wars (2020) and I really wish I'd come across it, not least that Matthew Jenkinson found novel I had not. It came out in 2019 so probably just as I was wrapping up.
Jenkinson traces first the actually history of Whalley and Goffe, then the mythologisation, and the mutation into fiction, thinking about what their story had to offer to Americans. It has the same flaws as my own book--it gets a bit listy towards the end--but that's my only complaint. A riveting read.
Solid historical monograph. I especially appreciated the second part that included the fascination with the regicides/judges after the fact. It was a bit dry-- which considering it's runaway judges who signed the death warrant for a king is actually surprising.