Chapter VII.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5760, 2 January 1897, Page 1

Chapter VII.

! THE PAGEANT OF THT! PACK HORSES. ; The picturesque procession of pacthorses had commenced the journey from fche Mersey. Liverpool had only been twenty years a free port, having been liitherto subject to tho authority of tester. „ i The vessel that had winged her way trom the Adriatic to tho Irish Sea and finally Anchoring at the mouth of fche Mersey had iandedher passengers at the nearest point tor Eyam, instead of making the port of London, whence ifc would have heen necessary to transport them by carriage to Derbyshire. „, , j A carriage and six horses, with relays ilong the route, was necessary for a journey from London to the Peak. Nor w<;.»M six horses have been sufficient for \m\ Old Hall's foreign guests, considering J'i:-.- -<.r.v.unt of luggage they carried. Apart I roil. i V ■•■•* personal effects and wardrobes, i/tcy r>..vin : ht the tools, and appliances of J.hviv v.cu'. ::rd these were both various and l?;.fiuy. ... t'iifli'h'.'ft'rv traversed the country from i ,ob;ioTij '\>a\-, a--:- a rule, only with goods. }.'-:■? ']rarr>bier aori of persons journeyed. Ljv.vccu the. hvlcn panniers, but at little rtio.iv' ifc. 'it c. v -jJ;-;;;'^ pace. It was, howL>ve.r. ••ic ;r'i«.i vlJStf.n •'-.- from Liverpool to ftyriin, ttv^-ifh _yt =.\r void of difliculties and ! 4 iri-^U'3. _?v'.';!?ixi<, kr; intervals of rest, : k> -mck-lw' & ':u'aV teon cTeerfled the best _ i^/hod for cobvoyiii^- Ibc Grangers from.. s ■' : t ?-'/:V¥ f n # to th ' W.'W ot i.ii i» Derwent. Kistov 7 vff.'ords ;i uirrhiv 1 \nnn vation in fclie way of •' ~.\n*\b us lu;a ;r>^ 'jean made at about, tid;- xi>x> ■> in tin- drst ' Flviu-: Coach," which Ltd beon eonsb-^.l -".-d horsed to perform i a ion- b^v frouiX-ondou !.<:• Oxford : between sui, vl - ■■ iiui caui&v . • It was in -the vnit.v,i!io..""i' ;U'"- wuov. ilio, pageant of ih.\: .u?.cy 'ver.-..--, vp,.-j -fth.^ entering the '.nviir: '.o '> : ;k!iih!t> •■ ' ! ';-Jo, watched, from tlur ; re :.•'»: ooor. a>. •>?<;, have 'seen, by lL\nb:-y <.'i. ;--.,' .■ ,, -i. , .'1 vi:? . mother, and .eagerly -va r. .i-mI : n: :>. , distance by Father Ciwti.V;. ■ Presently, a rare glea.'.n of •,•.'•!<..;■.'. -ai'.:o"> •, the rocks and foliage oC U\o -~' ! V". -" 'mounted a steep ascent a?v.- -o-.' ■■ ''■'■■■ ■: village street. Its incidenv of blue mi. gold and flashes of burnished harness mo', with a bright rivalry of varied hues in the flowers that could be seen, through the fences and over the garden walls of nearly every dwelling-place. Early as the period was in the history of gardening, Eyam made a rare horticultural show, promoted and encouraged by her great festival of the year, which has descended to her neighbours, and is still celebrated when spring came as" usual to Tissington. with its fete of Ascension, a religious ceremonial that links the festivals of ancient Italy with the Christian observances of the third and fourth centuries, and thence onward to the present .day, though nowhere else in England is;Chrisfs Ascension celebrated as it is in the •valley of the Derwent, and as it was in the early days of Eyam. It is strange that Eoubillac, the painter, and his dark-eyed companions should havo travelled from the Adriatic Soa to find in one of the taost remote villages of England a survival of their ancient festal tribute to Mora.

Eyam had gathered her first flowers of the budding year and dressed her wells and sung her glorias in the latter days of May, 1665 ; had also held her annual wakes, and had settled down, to the storage of her oats and wheat, and her vegetables and fruits for the coming winter ; for it was now autumn, with brown and yellow leaves on the trees, a carpet of the same on the roadways, and at night the hunters' moon up in the blue heavens. There was no smoke of coal to dim the silver planet's radiance. Moreover, she had, one cannot help believing, more light to reflect from her lord the sun than is vouchsafed to her in these latter days, if the poetry of the time may bo trusted as a guide to the character of the seasons. We Rre apt to decorate the past with a sunshine that obtains an added glow from the Imagination. If a century is but a geological second, fche two hundred and sixty odd. years upon which we are looking back can hardly liave. had bluer skies than are still vouchsafed to the pastoral stretches of English country where the perfumes of peat and wood fires still permeate the wholesome atmosphere. Every cottage in the village was alive with spectatoiss as the foreign procession began to file ailong the; village street with jmgla of harness, crocking of whips and shatter of foreign tongues. Most of the houses were built of stone quarried in tho neighbourhood, aud thickly thatched, the roofs brown and yellow with lichen or green with house-leek. As a rule they were detached dwellings, though here and there two or three were joined together. The doors were square, with heavy stone joist 3, though : archway entrances varied, the primitive.style in some instances, with the addition of decorative window jambs. Small diamond panes, some of them with bulbous centres — bottle-panes we call them now — were general ; and the architectural line of roofs and gables was agreeably broken, with a picturesque effect of outline tn stone and thatch and overhanging trees, in one heavy clump of which a rookery had been suddenly awakened into inquisitive cries and bustle. Their ragged nests could ' be seen among the swaying leaves, clusters • of which, shaken by the unusal fluster of . the cawing lodgers, fluttered down into the roadway. . Roubillac, the painter, noticed all this, ; and drew the attention of his wife to the several incidents that appealed to his , artistic vision. They had pulled up, with the rest, before 1 the unpretentious portals of the village : inn, the Crown and Anchor, the sign of ' which was swinging from a curiouslywrought iron bracket, riveted upon a flagpole in the centre of .an open space, the ; house being set back from the highway ; ] and it had, near the entrance door, an • oaken bench, and a small fountain that made rippling music in a drinking-trough ; for cattle. ; Eyam was noted for its plentiful supply _ of water, and not the least interesting ■ point along the street was the deep pool that reflected the leafy surrounding's and patches of blue sky near the Manor House, ; the only important residence in the village .'• street. * It was set back, like the village inn, but with a stone-paved courtyard and a ' walled-in garden and bowling-green. At the tall iron gates of the Manor : House, as the procession had filed by, stood ; • Sir George Fanshawe Talbot, baronet, and ; his daughter, Mary Talbot, with a few 1 servants at their back, not in attendance, .' as it might have seemed, but spectators, '- like their master and the belle and beauty ■ vi Eyam, to whom, as they passsed, the i Italians had doffed their caps. Each of ; the travellers sat between two baskets or [y panniers, that were filled with baggage. ' ' At the Crown and Anchor the travellers - dismounted, with sighs and laughter, some . si them tired and weary, others too . delighted with the prospect of the journey's, jnding to restrain their expressions of joy. Signor Bernardo Roubillac appeared "• jo be the chief personage, and Signora

Eoubillac his principal charge. She was much younger than he, and, at a glance, while the procession was passing the Manor House, Mary Talbot felt that here was a rival beauty, dark and gipsy-like though i she might be. Ifc interested'her deeply to learn that she was to be a guest at the Old Hall for somo time. Both she and her father found it difficult to quite realise the importance of mere painters or artificers, but Sir George had been to Court and had learnt in whafc estimation these Italian artists were held; and he had reason, to believe that in securing the services of Eoubillac and his companions the SfcaffordBradsbawes had been honoured by the King's own advice and introduction. Bernardo Eoubillac had been commissioned to decorate my lady's chamber in the Italian manner, together with the chapel in the new wing of the Old Hall that had been built in honour of her marriage and, it may as well be said, with her own money, for she had not only brought fashion and courtly manners to her Derbyshire home, but wealth — a matter of importance to the owner. / Mary Talbot's intuitive appreciation of the beauty of the foreign lady was fully justified by the reality. Nor was Mary the only person to be impressed by the new-' comer. The villagers maintained a respectful distance while the travellers alighted at the inn. A few, more actively inquisitive than the rest, stood by the inn door,; several of the men lending a hand to the muleteer-like attendants in loosening the harness of tho horses and helping to water them. Otherwise, most of the villagers contented themselves by standing at their doors or looking out from their windows ; and the majority were women, the men being at work in the 'fields or at the Winship Mine. v

Nor were the Italians altogether singular in the artistic cut and colour of their clothes. The villagers were mostly in sombre colours, but they wore the hood ; with which ladies themselves , enveloped > their heads (more particularly such of them as wore little or no "commode" or " tower ") and when dressed in their best, as on Sundays, they donned a hat with the brim slightly turned up, a laced bodice, sleeves slightly puffed and with cuffs and narrow frills ; at the waist a gay bunch of ribbon, secured the apron, and upon the high-heeled, sharp pointed shoes they also sported smart bows of ribbpn. The men attired themselves very much after the manner, of the pack-horse attendants, in l'»:iJ¥ jerkin and hose of calves' leather* •ttii.ii round felt hat of the Charles pattern, v' ..! ."he more formal cut of the Round-Ik-^u There was a good deal of variety in ;'.■■■ .':-•>: clothes,. since the severity of the '>' i..7v..' iv a a once more .merging into the ->'.:•;:: i, Oiiligent^ attire of the Cavalier. ''-•i ;" : >.•:.»..'?,'.• .P.-mshawe Talbot, for instance.

. :^ ! b. . .; -.-J rr.pie.;-* like the old Tory that he was... o.ovi.'-fi Le did not permit his da_g:.-' ; -.-:. ■'. ..^,l'y to emulate tho ladies of the Oi;l Hall, except with such modest adaptation of curls and furbelows as might become the virtuous maiden, who, besides maintaining th 9 dignity of her position, should set a fair example to her humbler sisters of Eyam.

The Signora Francesca, wife of the painter Eoubillac, wore a gown of a rich material that had never yet been seen in Eyam, even when the ladies of the Old Hall had descended upon the church at Easter, or had graced the festival of the Springs with fche'ii-pre'sen'ceJ ' ' It-was -of -a deep blush red, a new colour even in Italy, and had a sheen that flashed in the sun, and, by contrast, made the black silk and soft-lined cloak or mantle that fell from her shoulders in a straight line to her dainty heels black as her raven hair, which rippled in masses from a small close-fitting cap, fastened- to her tresses with silver j pins. • It was hardly a travelling costume, I and yet it seemed quite regular and appropriate to the wearer.

The Signora looked round upon the scene with soft dreamy eyes, violet in colour, a marked contrast to her hair and her olive complexion. Her face was 'oval, and her under-lip had a dimple in it, as if there was a hidden smile there that Love had not yet lighted Upon. Her beauty was oriental, foreign, luscious, and yet it suggested restraint, self-suppression, something of introspection; altogether different, from Roubillac, whose heart seamed to look out from his eyes, now and then with an anxious kind of happiness, now and then with a burning inspiration. His was an ascetic face ; long, pale, closely shaven) almost Dantesque. He also wore a long cloak, not ample, as cloaks are made in these days, but fitting almost close ;fco the figure. He also wore the beehefcto or scarf, flung loosely round his, 'breast. When his cloak was flung back, showing its purple silk lining, the front folds -of the bechetto partly hid the closely buttoned vest, with its linen.collar, but altogether unlike the cut of the bodice of the Signora; and they both woro a band round their necks — Roubillac, some Order of Honour terminating in a burnished star, the. lady, a rich necklet of beads of many hues and. shapes.

When the steward rode down from the Old Hall to conduct them thither, they had already entered the village inn. The steward said it was his master's wish that they should go straightway to the Old Hall without resting at the village, seeing that their destination was only a mile hence, and every preparation had been made for their reception. Signor Roubillac, however, explained that the Signora had desired to rest awhile before their reception at the Old Hall. No further answer was deemed necessary, for what the Signora desired was law to Roubillac and the rest, and they all adored her ; and none of them grudged her the homage she exacted, for she was a generous mistress, and had done much to glorify their art, and was beloved of all in Venice.

They were a remarkable little company ; mosaic workers from Venice, wood carvers from Florence and painters from Verona, with Roubillac at their head — the Roubillac who had revealed his genius in the Church of San Stefano, at Verona, in an altar-piece that had suddenly given him a foremost place among the painters of the great cities of the Art-world of Italy.

It was to his wife, . Francesca, that he owed the inspiration for that great work, and the most sublime achievement of the painter, in the central figure of the group was done from a study of Francesca herself. It was no mere blondo angel, with blue eyes and golden hair ; but a flesh and blood realisation of beauty, with the glow of heaven on its rich complexion, and the divine light shining among its raven tresses— a novel treatment, and full of atartling.contrasts of form and colour and idealised womanhood that lifted the sister angels into a rivalry of adoration. \ ■

Several of the men (some of them mere artificers and assistants) had brought their wives. Signora Roubillac was attended by her maid. There were also several servingwomen, for Lady Stafford's agents and. the good Father Lorenzo at Venice had taken up her instructions with no niggard hands. Her ladyship, moved by an impulse of ambition and the first stirrings of English aspirations towards decorative art, had resolved to have no other palace in the Peak outvying the Old Hall, and there was no longer any Bess of Hardwick to compete with.

Thus ifc was that Eyam rose up on an eventful day to assist at a peaceful invasion of foreigners, but for. whose advent this romance of the mountain village of

W. Strange and Co. are now showing enormous stocks of carpets, floorcloths and linoleums, and invite inspection.

the Peak would have had little raison d'etre, notwithstanding certain other engrossing passages of an impressive history.