England’s Trent Valley is a broad, fertile land. Narrow country lanes meander through fields of ripening wheat and barley to connect charming villages. I took my time as I drove along these roads, exploring the homeland of the American colonies’ Founding Fathers. From this gentle countryside came the core of the Pilgrims who sailed aboard the Mayflower to arrive at Plymouth Rock on 27th December, 1620.

Subscribe Today

• Did you enjoy our article?
• Read more in British Heritage magazine
• Subscribe online and save nearly 40%!!!
 

Babworth’s All Saints Church became the focus of religious foment in the first years of the 17th century. It stands at the end of a tree-lined track in a quiet wooded glade. Strolling past lichen-encrusted gravestones lining the path to the church porch, I found it incredible to think that this unpretentious medieval church had been the scene of controversy.

Richard Clyfton, rector here from 1586 to 1604, delivered his quiet, passionate, but revolutionary sermons in the dim interior. As a Puritan, Clyfton believed, along with an increasing number of liberal Elizabethan clergymen, that the fledgling Church of England should shed all Roman Catholic-style ritual and devote its services to pure worship.

I admired the simple altar where Clyfton once preached, and I wondered if his mostly poor, uneducated congregation appreciated their rector’s purer style. Did his parishioners return to their farms grumbling about his refusal to wear a surplice, or did he leave them animated, even fearful, over his modern presentations of scripture?

Either way, word of his preaching spread and attracted like-minded Puritans. These newcomers to Clyfton’s congregation included William Brewster, eventual author of the Mayflower Compact; and William Bradford, who would serve as Plymouth Plantation’s Governor for 35 years.

Today, Babworth’s few parishioners take pride in their Pilgrim Father connections. A stunning model of the Mayflower, composed of dried flowers, adorns one of the church’s interior walls. Another detailed scale model of the ship, constructed from 14,000 matchsticks, stands near the altar. I asked the current rector, the Reverend Bob Smith, who had the time, patience, and dedication required to build the model. ‘A person serving at Her Majesty’s pleasure,’ he replied with dry humour–meaning that an inmate in the local prison had built it.

Smith’s parishioners esteem the church’s heritage so highly that they get upset with him if he does not take his readings from the Queen Elizabeth Bible and conduct his sermons in the language of Elizabethan England. I did wish I had had time to return for a Sunday service.

William Brewster travelled 12 miles from Scrooby to attend services at Babworth. A delightful venue for a stroll, the village of Scrooby contains a hotchpotch of housing styles. Neat flower gardens lie adjacent to nearly every home. My own walk along the quiet streets took me past an old mill where flotillas of downy ducklings had taken up summer residence in the still millpond. I ventured across the village green bordered by mature horse chestnut trees, past 17th- and 18th-century farms, and to the convivial village pub, which serves fine ale and wholesome food.

Two of Scrooby’s buildings–St. Wilfrid’s Church and Scrooby Manor House–enjoy associations with Brewster. As I entered 12th-century St. Wilfrid’s by the north gate, a pinfold caught my eye. This rectangular stone enclosure held stray animals impounded by the village pinder (an officer concerned with local animal grazing rights) until the animal’s owner paid a fine for the return of his livestock.

St. Wilfrid’s, a simple church much renovated over the centuries, houses a display about the village’s most famous son. Brewster certainly went to St. Wilfrid’s, but from 1600 onwards he incurred fines for erratic attendance. The Church of England made worship compulsory during Elizabeth I’s reign, and Brewster’s dislike for Conformist services did not excuse him.

Help HistoryNet by bookmarking to