IX.

The Legend of Charlesworth Chapel.

An old chapel at Charlesworth is said to have owed its foundation to

the circumstances narrated in the following tradition.

Once upon a time--it is impossible to say exactly when, because,

unfortunately, the records as to date have been lost, but it was

certainly in that halcyon period of English history which is generally

spoken of as "the olden time"--a traveller was on his way from the

northern parts of England to London. Here again the chronicles are

slightly obscure, because there is no mention of his name, and

opinions differ as to his occupation. Some state that he was an Irish

merchant, others that he was a priest. But be that as it may, all

agree that he made the journey, that he made it on foot and alone. For

the purposes of this story, therefore, it will suffice to refer to him

as "The Traveller."

He had reached that portion of Derbyshire known as the Peak, and was

journeying over that part of the Peak which includes Coombs Rocks and

the hills above the River Etherow, when he found himself overtaken by

the night-fall. The track he was travelling was but ill-defined; it

led through a desolate region--in fact, one of the wildest regions in

all Britain--and, therefore, was but seldom used. As a consequence it

was no easy task to keep to it in broad daylight, and when the

darkness enveloped the moor, the danger of losing it was very great.

To-day, when almost every acre of the country is cultivated and

drained, the neighbourhood though savage enough is comparatively a

safe one to travel, but in the time of which we speak there were

treacherous bogs on every side in which the unwary might easily be

swallowed up.

Accustomed as he was to the perils and vicissitudes of a wandering

life, the Traveller was, nevertheless, somewhat dismayed to find

himself be-nighted so far from any habitation, and in a country

altogether strange to him.

"Now may the good saints protect me," mused he, "for of a truth I am

like to need their intercession this night. Already the path grows

fainter, the skies seem charged with rain, and the wind moans eerily."

He wrapped his cloak tighter about his limbs, and stepped along at a

brisker pace.

"If only the night would clear," he said, "so that I could see distant

objects, then should I be likely to make my way in safety from this

desolate moor. But the darkness hangs heavy like a pall: it is damp as

though the clouds were settling on the heather, and--ha!"

The last exclamation was wrung from him by the slipping of his foot,

and the fact that he suddenly found himself standing up to the knees

in the sponge-like peat. He turned his face and tried to retrace his

steps, hoping to regain the path, but this was no easy task, and

presently he found that he was wandering hopelessly through the bog,

with every risk of becoming engulfed if he proceeded further. To make

matters worse, at that moment, a thick white choking mist settled down

on the moor, and it seemed to the Traveller that his fate was indeed

sealed. He stretched out his staff in despair, and by great good luck

it struck on firm grit, and in another moment the Traveller had hauled

himself upon solid earth. Once here, prudence told him not to stir,

either to the right hand or the left, lest all the horrors from which

he had just escaped should be again about him. There was nothing for

it but to wait patiently for the return of day, when he might be able

to thread his way through the mazy bogs in safety. But the night was

chill, the mist was like the icy touch of death, and in a little while

the Traveller was shaking in every joint. The keen cold went to the

bone, and it seemed as though he must now perish from exposure.

"Now indeed am I in a sorry plight," quoth he, "and I have need of the

Divine help; else I am lost."

Whereupon, being a good Christian, he fell upon his knees, and prayed

aloud to God for help, vowing that if he was permitted to reach his

home again he would return to those hills, and as a thankoffering

erect thereon a house of prayer dedicated to his patron saint.

Scarcely was the prayer ended when a great wind arose, the mists were

rolled away like a curtain, the hill tops stood out in the clear

night, the stars shone, and the moon-beams fell softly over the

landscape, and a shepherd came along as though a heaven-sent guide to

show him the path from the hills.

"Friend," said the shepherd simply, as he beheld the Traveller, "Hast

thou been long upon the moor? If so, thou shouldst indeed be thankful

to God, for thou hast run a great risk of losing thy life upon this

desolate wilderness of heather."

"Thou sayest truly," replied the Traveller, who then proceeded to

recount his experiences and his vow, and also asked the name of the

place where they stood. Then he marked the spot, which lay upon the

bleak hill-side above the present village of Charlesworth.

"I will surely come here again," said he, "if my life is spared, and

fulfil my vow."

On concluding his journey, and having discharged his business, he

immediately returned to the Peak, and on the spot of his delivery he

built a small chapel or oratory of bog oak, which was specially

brought over from Ireland. This building, says tradition, was erected

upon the site now occupied by the present Charlesworth Chapel.

Why Irish bog oak should have been the material used in building, the

present writer has not been able to discover, nor does the tradition

in this particular altogether agree with the following account of what

is therein stated to have been the original fabric.

"It was a small octagon chapel," says the historian, "the roof of

which was carved; the arched rafters resting on massive buttresses,

the walls rough blocks of stone, the floor earth covered with rushes,

the seats and altar simple and unpretentious."

Possibly the building mentioned in this account was a successor of an

even earlier structure, and to judge from other sacred buildings in

the neighbourhood, it is by no means unlikely that the earliest chapel

of all was one mainly composed of timber. But after all, what does it

really matter whether the chapel was built of wood or stone, so long

as the Traveller fulfilled his vow, and so long as the chapel served

the purpose for which it was erected?

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