MORE than 300 years ago a box of cloth from London was delivered to a

pretty Derbyshire village. A few days later the man who opened it was

dead. He was just the first. It was the start of a tragic episode in the

village's history, one which has made Eyam famous all over the world.

Eyam (pronounced ''eem'') is in the heart of the Peak District,

sandwiched between the industrial centres of Derby, Manchester and

Sheffield. It's a quiet village, discreetly signposted and tends to be

ignored by the TV tourists making their pilgrimage to Peak Practice

country. Yet Eyam's story is far more interesting than any medical

drama.

It began in September 1665 when the cloth for the village tailor

arrived from his suppliers in London. It turned out to be infested with

rat fleas, the carriers of the bubonic plague which was sweeping the

capital at the time. Within three weeks the tailor's assistant, who

opened the parcel, and five close neighbours were dead. Today you can

still see their neat little cottages, arked with plaques. You can't go

inside because people still live there, but this helps to make them more

compelling. It's as if the past is somehow alive.

Of course Eyam wasn't the only place outside London to get bubonic

plague. There had been outbreaks up and down the country since 1347 and

some settlements had been completely wiped out -- not even featuring on

maps today. What made the place unique was the calm way in which the

villagers dealt with the disease. They would have recognised the

symptoms, like the distinctive ring of red sores on the skin (the Ring

of Roses in the nursery rhyme), but even as the death toll rose they

didn't panic.

By May 1666, 73 people in Eyam had already died -- a significant

number in a small community. They knew that things could only get worse

during the heat of summer. So, at a meeting called by their religious

leaders, they agreed to place themselves under quarantine, to prevent

the disease spreading to other towns and villages: effectively

sacrificing themselves to save others. The village cut itself off from

the world and walked into history.

The quarantine conditions appear to have been strictly observed --

perhaps because this was a deeply religious community. The village was

not self- sufficient, so a supply system had to be set up or they would

have starved. Free food and medicine was donated by the Earl of

Devonshire from nearby Chatsworth House. This was left at specified

pick-up points, where villagers could also leave requests for extra

items. In order to wash away the plague, the money to pay for them was

left in running water or in holes drilled into stones and filled with

vinegar. Walk to the Boundary Stone today and you can still clearly see

the hollows, now worn smooth with time and weather.

Although the villagers tried hard to cut down the risk of cross

infection, the death rate increased dramatically -- 56 in July, 78 in

August. They still held church services, but in the open air now, and

funerals were no longer held in the graveyard.

The custom of burying bodies 6ft deep originated in London during the

plague, but no-one can be sure whether this was followed here. People

buried their own dead wherever they could, on waste ground, in fields

and in gardens. I found these little plots immensely moving,

particularly the graves of the Hancock family. They're now enclosed by a

wall and mark the spot where a woman had to bury her husband and six

children within the space of one week.

Many other graves are unmarked and local residents must take care not

to dig too deeply in their gardens, in case they unearth human remains.

What I like about Eyam is its simplicity. There are no bubonic burgers

or Ye Olde Plague Teas for sale. Nor is there an authentically smelly

''time tunnel'' filled with wax plague victims and black rats. Yet the

past still seems to seep from every stone and even the most

sophisticated kids find the place fascinating. The local people, many of

whom can trace their roots in the village back to the time of the

plague, are determined to keep things this way.

They don't want Eyam to become mummified but to retain its dignity as

a close working community. Apart from the many plague cottages and the

graves, there is plenty more to see. Eyam Hill, built shortly after the

plague, is a fine manor house and there's a small, but interesting

museum. The church is also worth a visit. Among its contents is a

cupboard which is said to be made from the wood of the box which

contained the deadly flea infested cloth.

By the time the plague had run its course in November 1666, 260 people

had died, over one-third of the population. The community was devastated

-- some people had lost as many as nine members of their family. But the

courage of the villagers had saved hundreds more.

FACTFILE

Places to go: Chatsworth House -- set in more than 1000 acres of

parkland. Large collection of furniture and fine arts.

Haddon Hall -- fortified fourteenth-century manor house.

Bakewell -- busy market town, noted for its ''puddings'' (not its

tarts).

Further information: East Midlands Tourist Board, Exchequergate,

Lincoln, LN2 1PZ. Tel: 01522 531521.