Four hundred and fifty-seven years ago, on February 4, 1555, John Rogers was roused from his sleep in Newcastle Prison and hurriedly escorted to Smithfield where upon he was burnt to death at the stake. He was the first of the protestant martyrs that would be executed by Queen Mary as part of her attempt to restore Catholicism as the national religion in England following the death of King Henry VIII. Ironically, her attempts to bring England bank under the dominion of the Vatican would be ill-fated and it would ultimately cost her her own life. Queen Mary would spark the beginning of a hundred years of religious strife in England that would see Protestants struggle against Catholics and eventually Puritans initiate a civil war.
John Rogers was executed publicly in front of his wife and ten children. He was ushered past his family on his way to the stake without being allow to speak to his wife or children. At the stake, he was offered a pardon if he would recant Protestant faith. He declined.
John Rogers was my 14th great grandfather.
The blog site Pre-Elizabethan England gives us some insight to this incredible man:
“He was the first leading English Reformer as a martyr in Mary’s reign. He was a London Minister, Vicar of St. Sepulchre’s, and Prebendary and Reader of Divinity at St. Paul’s. He was burned in Smithfield on Monday, the 4th of February 1555. Rogers was born at Deritend, in the parish of Aston, near Birmingham. He was a man who, in one respect, had done more for the cause of Protestantism than any of his fellow-sufferers. In saying this I refer to the fact that he had assisted Tyndale and Coverdale in bringing out a most important version of the English Bible, a version commonly known as Matthew’s Bible. Indeed, he was condemned as “Rogers, alias Matthew.” This circumstance, in all human probability, made him a marked man, and was one cause why he was the first who was brought to the stake.
Rogers’ examination before Gardiner gives us the idea of his being a thorough Protestant, who had fully made up his mind on all points of the sectarian controversy, and was able to give a reason for his opinions. At any rate, he seems to have silenced and abashed his examiners even more than most of the martyrs did.
On the morning of his martyrdom he was roused hastily in his cell in Newgate, and hardly allowed time to dress himself. He was then led forth to Smithfield on foot, within sight of the Church of St. Sepulchre, where he had preached, and through the streets of the parish where he had done the work of a pastor. By the wayside stood his wife and ten children (one a baby) whom Bishop Bonner, had flatly refused him leave to see in prison.”
This is an account from Book of Martyrs by John Foxe was published after Queen Mary had been deposed and the reign of Elizabeth I had begun 1563, eight years after the excution. It speaks volumes of John Rogers’ character.
“After Mr. Rogers had been long and straitly imprisoned, and lodged in Newgate among thieves, often examined, and very uncharitably entreated, and at length unjustly and most cruelly condemned by Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, the fourth day of February, in the year of our Lord 1555, being Monday in the morning, he was suddenly warned by the keeper of Newgate’s wife, to prepare himself for the fire; who, being then sound asleep, could scarce be awaked. At length being raised and awaked, and bid to make haste, then said he, “If it be so, I need not tie my points.” And so was had down, first to bishop Bonner to be degraded: which being done, he craved of Bonner but one petition; and Bonner asked what that should be. Mr. Rogers replied that he might speak a few words with his wife before his burning, but that could not be obtained of him.
When the time came that he should be brought out of Newgate to Smithfield, the place of his execution, Mr. Woodroofe, one of the sheriffs, first came to Mr. Rogers, and asked him if he would revoke his abominable doctrine, and the evil opinion of the Sacrament of the altar. Mr. Rogers answered, “That which I have preached I will seal with my blood.” Then Mr. Woodroofe said, “Thou art an heretic.” “That shall be known,” quoth Mr. Rogers, “at the Day of Judgment.” “Well,” said Mr. Woodroofe, “I will never pray for thee.” “But I will pray for you,” said Mr. Rogers; and so was brought the same day, the fourth of February, by the sheriffs, towards Smithfield, saying the Psalm Miserere by the way, all the people wonderfully rejoicing at his constancy; with great praises and thanks to God for the same. And there in the presence of Mr. Rochester, comptroller of the queen’s household, Sir Richard Southwell, both the sheriffs, and a great number of people, he was burnt to ashes, washing his hands in the flame as he was burning. A little before his burning, his pardon was brought, if he would have recanted; but he utterly refused it. He was the first martyr of all the blessed company that suffered in Queen Mary’s time that gave the first adventure upon the fire. His wife and children, being eleven in number, ten able to go, and one sucking at her breast, met him by the way, as he went towards Smithfield. This sorrowful sight of his own flesh and blood could nothing move him, but that he constantly and cheerfully took his death with wonderful patience, in the defence and quarrel of the Gospel of Christ.”
Four hundred and fifty-seven years later, the fourteenth great grandson is Buddhist, a practitioner of a religion that would have been mostly unknown to my noble ancestor. Like him, I have chosen to walk the path of my own conscience although, thankfully, I have not had to pay so dear a price for it. The man, however, leaps out of the pages of history and stirs my imagination. I am proud of him. After centuries his flesh and blood mourns his loss as I contemplate the horror that he and his family endured in the name of hate, greed and politics.
His message, however has found its way through history to me: ”‘Well,’ said Mr. Woodroofe, ‘I will never pray for thee.’ ‘But I will pray for you,’ said Mr. Rogers”.
Great grandfather, your message of grace under the most dire of circumstances has endured. Should I be so fortunate to be half the man you were.
