The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 563, August 25, 1832

Mr. Rhodes, the elegant topographer of the Peak, observes, "there are but few individuals in this country, possessing the means and the opportunities of travel, who have not, either from curiosity or some other motive, visited the Peak of Derbyshire." This remark is correct; and to it we may add, that the "few" who have not personally visited the Peak, have become familiar with its wonders through the pencils of artists, or the graphic pens of accomplished tourists. Yet their attractions are not of that general character which delights an untravelled eye: they belong rather to the wonderful than what is, in common parlance, the beautiful. Mr. Rhodes says, "Travellers accustomed to well-wooded and highly-cultivated scenes only, have frequently expressed a feeling bordering on disgust, at the bleak and barren appearance of the mountains in the Peak of Derbyshire; but to the man whose taste is unsophisticated by a fondness for artificial adornments, they possess superior interest, and impart more pleasing sensations. Remotely seen, they are often beautiful; many of their forms, even when near, are decidedly good; and in distance, the features of rudeness, by which they are occasionally marked, are softened down into general and sometimes harmonious masses. The graceful and long-continued outline which they present, the breadth of light and shadow that spreads over their extended surfaces, and the delightful colouring with which they are often invested, never fail to attract the attention of the picturesque traveller."

Our present road, however, lies through the dales rather than the mountainous portion of this district. To enjoy the picturesque variety of the former we must leave the cloud-capped peaks, and ramble with the reader through "cultivated meadows, luxuriant foliage, steep heathy hills, and craggy rocks, while the eye is enchanted with brilliant streams." Such indeed is the character of the dales, especially those through which the Derwent, the Dove, and the Wye meander. Hitherto we have but adverted to the natural beauties of the country; although they are checkered with many mouldering relics of "hoar antiquity"--many crumbling memorials of ages long past, reminding us of the nothingness of man's labours, yet harmonizing most happily with the feelings inspired by the natural sublimities of the scene. By such associations, the decaying glories of art lend even a charm to ever flourishing nature!

The Cuts are but three vignettes from the architectural lore of the district. They stand in sheltered valleys, though, as their ruinous condition implies, their situation has not saved them from the destroying hand of time. Indeed, one of them, Beauchief Abbey, gives name to its locality, Abbey Dale, not far from the partition line that separates Derbyshire from Yorkshire. In this road, the ruin in the Cut is the first object that claims the attention of the tourist in his progress to the Peak; being part of a once magnificent abbey, founded by Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton; as an expiation for the part he is said to have taken in the murder of Thomas à Becket. The late Dr. Pegg, the antiquary, discountenances this tradition. His arguments, however, which are chiefly founded on the circumstance of the brother of Robert Fitz-Ranulph, being afterwards in great favour with Henry the Second, do not appear conclusive, particularly when opposed to the authority of Dugdale, Fuller, Bishop Tanner, and others who have written on the subject.[1]

[1] Dugdale says, "Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton, Norton, and Marnham, was one of the four knights who martyred the blessed Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury; and afterwards founded the Monastery of Beauchief, by way of expiating his crime; in the reign of Henry the Second." Bishop Tanner writes, "Beauchief, an Abbey of Promonstatentian, or White Canons, founded A.D. 1183, by Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton, one of the executioners of Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom canonized, this monastery was dedicated." These authorities are quoted by Mr. Rhodes. Sir James Mackintosh names the four "knights of distinguished rank," (apparently upon the authority of Hoveden,) to have been "William de Tracy, Hugh de Moreville, Richard Britto, and Reginald Fitz-Urse." We do not attempt to reconcile the conflicting chroniclers; but we should add, from the subsequent page, by Sir James, "the conspirators, despairing of pardon, found a distant refuge in the Castle of Knaresborough, in the town of Hugh de Moreville, and were, after some time, enjoined by the Pope to do penance for their crime, by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where they died, and were interred before the gate of the Temple." Sir James describes the murder of Becket with minuteness: "the assassins fell on him with many strokes; and though the second brought him to the ground, they did not cease till his brains were scattered over the pavement."--We know the Cathedral guide at Canterbury shows you the stone in the place of that on which Becket fell, and states the original stone to be preserved in St. Peter's, at Rome; but the story is to us rather apocryphal. At St. Alban's they show you the dust of the good Duke Humphrey: we once begged a pinch, which the guide granted freely; this induced us to ask him how often he re-supplied the dust: the man stared at our ungrateful incredulity.

The walls of Beauchief Abbey, with the exception of the west end, represented in the Cut, have long since either been removed, or have mouldered into dust. Parochial service is still performed in the remains; but the whole of the original form of the once extensive pile of building cannot now be traced.

The exterior architecture of the chapel is almost destitute of ornament; if we except the reeded windows, and the double buttresses at the angles of the tower, which is stated to be short of its original height. On the east side, two angular lines mark the connexion which the chapel had with the other buildings, and a part of the ground plan may be traced by an adjoining wall, in which are the remains of two circular arches, comparatively little impaired. Mr. Rhodes observes "a wreath of ivy which falls from the top of the tower, and nearly invests one side of it, breaks the dull monotony of its outline, and produces a tolerably good effect: in other respects it is not strikingly attractive as a picturesque object. The Abbey of Bello-Capite will ever be dear to the antiquary who will visit it with veneration and delight; nor will the artist pass it by unnoticed. The magnificent woods, and the beautiful hills that environ the Abbey of Beauchief, amply compensate for any deficiency of grandeur in the subordinate adornments of so rich a scene."

Beauchief Abbey, though once a considerable structure, was never proportionally wealthy. At the time of its dissolution, (Henry VIII.) the whole of its revenues were estimated but at 157_l_; and with the materials furnished by its demolition was built Beauchief House upon the same estate, granted by Henry VIII. to Sir William Shelly. The mansion is still tenanted.

CROSSES.

These emblematic relics stand in two of the villages in the Peak district: viz. Eyam and Wheston. They are places of little importance; though a touching interest is attached to Eyam, from it having been visited by the Great Plague of the year 1666; its population, at this time, was about 330; of whom 259 fell by the plague.[2] The history of this calamitous visitation forms the subject of a meritorious poem by W. and M. Howitt, entitled the Desolation of Eyam, in which the piety of Mr. Mompesson, (who then held the living of Eyam,) his pastoral consolations to his mourning people, and the amiable character of his beautiful wife, who fell a victim to the plague,--are narrated with true pathos. Yet, this afflicting episode in village history--

So sad, so tender and so true.

having been but recently related by our ingenious contemporary, Mr. Hone,[3] we quote but two of the opening stanzas by the Messrs. Howitt:

Among the verdant mountains of the Peak There lies a quiet hamlet, where the slope Of pleasant uplands wards the north-wind's bleak; Below wild dells romantic pathways ope; Around, above it, spreads a shadowy cope Of forest trees: flower, foliage, and clear rill Wave from the cliffs, or down ravines elope; It seems a place charmed from the power of ill By sainted words of old: so lovely, lone, and still.

And many are the pilgrim's feet which tread Its rocky steps, which thither yearly go; Yet, less by love of Nature's wonders led, Than by the memory of a mighty woe, Which smote, like blasting thunder, long ago, The peopled hills. There stands a sacred tomb, Where tears have rained, nor yet shall cease to flow; Recording days of death's sublimest gloom; Mompesson's power and pain,--his beauteous Catherine's doom.

[2] Dr. Mead, in his Narrative of the Great Plague in London, particularly mentions its introduction into Eyam, through the medium of a box of clothes, sent to a tailor who resided there.

[3] Table Book, 1827, p. 481.

The cross at Eyam stands near the entrance into the chancel of the church. According to village tradition, this rare relic was found on some of the neighbouring hills. It is curiously ornamented with symbolic devices in bold relief. "It has suffered dilapidation from the culpable neglect of those who should have felt an interest in its preservation. About two feet of the top of the shaft is wanting, as may be seen by reference to the engraved sketch, (See the Cut,) which was taken in the year 1815." The sexton of the church, who was then an old man, told Mr. Rhodes in 1818, that he well recollected the missing part being thrown carelessly about the churchyard, as if of no value, until it was broken up by some of the inhabitants, and knocked to pieces for domestic purposes. The preservation of the Cross, to the extent we have shown, is referable to the philanthropic Howard, who, in a visit to Eyam, about the year 1788, or 44 years since, particularly noticed the finest part of the relic lying in a corner of the churchyard, and nearly overgrown with docks and thistles. "The value this hitherto unregarded relic had in the estimation of Howard," says Mr. Rhodes, "made it dearer to the people of Eyam: they brought the top part of the cross from its hiding-place, and set it on the still dilapidated shaft, where it has ever since remained." Other crosses, similar in appearance and workmanship, have been found on the hills of Derbyshire, particularly one in the village of Bakewell, which we have already figured in The Mirror.[4] It evidently originated with the same people as that at Eyam, though it is much more mutilated. These crosses have been generally regarded as Saxon or Danish, though the probability is in favour of the Saxon origin, from the high veneration of the Saxons for the sacred symbol of the cross. Thus, stone crosses were not only parts of the decorations of every church and altar, but set up as land-marks on the high roads as aids to devotion, and in market-places as incentives to integrity and fair-dealing.