Rowland Taylor
ROWLAND TAYLOR
The town of Hadleigh, in Suffolk, was one of the first towns in England to hear the Word of God from Thomas Bilney. Through his work, a great number of men and women in that parish became educated in the scriptures, many of them having read the entire Bible. Some could have recited most of Paul’s epistles by heart, and most were qualified to give a godly judgment in any matter of controversy. The town’s children and servants were also brought up and trained in God’s Word, so Hadleigh seemed more like a university town of educated people than a town of laborers. Even more importantly, those in the town were faithful followers of God’s Word in their daily lives.
Hadleigh’s pastor was Dr. Rowland Taylor, a doctor of both civil and church law. At that time most pastors received a house and land to support themselves, but most rented the land out to farmers and appointed an uneducated priest to serve the town, living elsewhere and not really helping with their congregations, nor fulfilling Jesus’ charge to Peter: “[Peter], lovest thou me? Feed my sheep.” Taylor took every opportunity to gather his people together and teach them the doctrine of salvation.
Taylor’s whole life was a blessing to the town. He was a humble man, easily approachable by the poor who came to him for help. He never hesitated to correct the rich, either, as a good pastor should. He was always a gentle man, without rancor or ill will, ready to do good to all men, forgiving his enemies, and never trying to do evil to anyone. Anyone who was poor, blind, lame, sick, or had many children to support found Taylor to be a faithful provider, much like a father. He saw that his parish contributed generously to the poor among them and made a generous contribution to the alms box himself every year.
Taylor served the town of Hadleigh all the days of Edward VI. But after Edward’s death, the Catholics openly ignored the reformations made under Henry VIII and Edward, overthrew the doctrine of the Gospel, and persecuted everyone who refused to abandon the Reformation’s gains and accept the pope as the head of the Church of England.
Soon a lawyer named Foster—an unskilled court steward—conspired with John Clerk to return Catholicism to Hadleigh. They hired John Averth, a money-grabbing, immoral man, to come to Hadleigh and reinstitute the Mass, hastily constructing an altar in the town’s church that was torn down the next day. They rebuilt the altar, this time setting guards to protect it overnight. The next day Foster, Clerk, and Averth brought in all the necessary implements and garments for the Mass, setting out armed guards to prevent anyone from interfering.
Hearing the church bells ringing, Dr. Taylor assumed he was needed at his office but found the church doors tightly locked. Gaining entrance through the chancel door, he saw Averth celebrating the Mass, surrounded by guards with drawn swords.
“You devil!” Taylor shouted. “How do you dare enter this church of Christ and profane and defile it with this abominable idolatry?”
Foster stood up. “You traitor! Why are you disturbing the queen’s proceedings?”
“I’m no traitor,” Taylor called back. “I’m the shepherd of this flock, with every right to be here. I order you—you popish wolf—in the name of God, leave! Don’t poison Christ’s flock with your idolatry.”
“Are you going to make a commotion and violently resist the queen’s proceedings?” Foster demanded.
“I’m not making a commotion. You papists do that. I only resist your idolatries, which are against God’s Word and the queen’s honor and subvert the country. Furthermore, you’re breaking the law that says no Mass may be said at an unconsecrated altar.”
When Averth heard that, he began to move away from the altar. John Clerk commanded him to continue the Mass while Foster’s guards forcibly led Taylor out of his church.
Mrs. Taylor saw her husband being pushed out, fell to her knees, and said loudly, “I beg God, the righteous judge, to avenge the injury this popish idolater does to the blood of Christ!” They threw her out, too, and locked the doors against the people who were gathering outside.
A day or two later, Foster and Clerk complained about Taylor to Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester. When he was summoned to appear before the bishop, the townspeople begged Taylor to run away, knowing he was doomed if he went to London; but Taylor took his servant and obediently appeared before Gardiner.
Gardiner greeted Taylor in his usual manner, calling him a “knave, traitor, heretic” and other names.
“My lord,” Taylor replied, “I am not a traitor or heretic, but a true subject and Christian. I came here at your command. Why did you send for me?”
“Are you come, villain? How do you dare look me in the face? Don’t you know who I am?”
“Yes,” answered Taylor, “I know who you are. You’re Dr. Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, lord chancellor—but still a mortal man. If I should fear your lordly looks, why don’t you fear God? How can you look any Christian in the face? You have forsaken the truth, denied our Savior Jesus Christ and His Word, and gone against your oaths. How will you look when you appear before the judgment seat of Christ and answer to the oaths you made to King Henry VIII and King Edward VI?”
“I did well in breaking those oaths and coming home again to our mother, the Catholic Church of Rome. I want you to do the same.”
Taylor spent the next two years in prison, reading, preaching, and exhorting the great number of godly ministers that filled the country’s prisons at that time, one of whom was Master Bradford. So many of them were locked up together that the jails began to resemble universities.
About the end of January 1555, Taylor, Bradford, and Sanders were called before the bishops of Winchester, Norwich, London, Salisbury, and Durham and charged with heresy. Given the opportunity to submit to the pope and confess their errors, all three refused. On February 4, 1555, Edmund Bonner, bishop of London, came to the prison to strip Taylor of his church offices. Told to put on his vestments, Taylor refused.
“You won’t?” Bonner sneered. “Then I’ll make you!”
“You won’t, by the grace of God.”
Taylor was dressed by force so the ceremony could continue.
The next night, Taylor’s wife and son were allowed to eat dinner with him since the king’s jailers tried to be as kind as possible, unlike the bishop’s. His wife suspected that he would be taken away that night, so she watched the prison until he and his guards appeared at 2:00 a.m. The sheriffs allowed them a few minutes together to say good-bye, and Taylor encouraged them all to stay firm in their faith. That night he was taken to an inn named the Woolpack, where he stayed until the sheriff of Essex arrived at eleven the next morning. Taylor was put on a horse and led out of the inn’s courtyard, where his servant, John Hull, and Taylor’s son met them. Taylor was allowed to hold the boy, bless him, and say good-bye to his servant before being led off.
All the way, Taylor was joyful and happy, busily preaching to his guards and trying to convert them. In a few days, they arrived in Hadleigh, where Taylor was to be burned. The streets of the town were lined with townspeople crying and lamenting their pastor’s fate, but Taylor’s head was hooded until they reached the common, and he wasn’t sure where he was until a guard told him.
“Thanks be to God!” he exclaimed. “I’m home!” He was taken off his horse and unhooded.
When the people saw his ancient face and long white beard, they began calling out encouragement, but Taylor had promised not to speak—probably under the threat of having his tongue cut out. After he gave away his clothing, he looked up and said two sentences: “Good people, I have taught you nothing but God’s holy Word, and those lessons I took out of the Holy Bible. Today I come to seal it with my blood.” He was promptly hit in the head by one of the guards.
After saying his prayers, Taylor stepped into the pitch barrel, folded his hands in prayer, and stood against the stake as the fire was lit. A man in the crowd hurled a piece of wood at him, hitting him in the head and bloodying his face. “Friend,” Taylor said, “I have enough problems. Why was that necessary?” Then he recited the Fifty-first Psalm until Sir John Shelton hit him in the mouth. “Speak in Latin!” he demanded.
Taylor lifted up his hands. “Merciful Father of heaven, for Jesus Christ my Savior’s sake, receive my soul into Your hands.” He stood still without moving or crying until Soyce struck him on the head with a halberd, spilling out his brains, and his corpse fell into the fire.