When a piece of cloth infested with fleas arrived from London, the local tailor’s assistant, George Viccars, unpacked it and became Eyam’s first plague victim. Eyam found itself on the brink of devastation. The infection spread rapidly, killing entire households. This fate was common in villages during the plague years, but what makes Eyam stand out is, rather than flee and risk carrying the disease to surrounding towns, the villagers chose isolation. They sealed themselves off for over a year, burying their dead in gardens and fields, and trading only at “boundary stones,” where coins were left in vinegar-filled hollows as payment.

Among the village’s most poignant reminders of that decision are three adjoining cottages on the main street, each marked with plaques that tell the stories of the families within. In one, every member of the household died. In another, a single survivor remained, having lost dozens of relatives.

During the plague year, nearly 260 of Eyam’s 800 villagers perished. Reminders of their sacrifice are woven throughout the village, from the cottages themselves to the museum, the Riley Graves, and the boundary stone. Together they reflect how carefully Eyam has remembered its dead, and how deeply the story still shapes the place today.