CHAPTER I.

WALTHAM ABBEY.

HAROLD’S TOWN! We may well speak of Waltham Holy Cross in this way, for the place virtually owes its foundation to the last representative of the Saxon dynasty, and abounds in associations with the brave, pious, and wise prince whose lordship, like that of his great predecessor, Alfred, had so great an influence for good upon the social and political institutions of our England, and who so nobly and bravely disputed the claim to the throne with the Norman invader on the field of Senlac. We find a contemporary estimate of Earl Harold’s character in the historic tract, _De Inventione Sanctæ Crucis_, the unknown author of which, who was, however, a Waltham man, says: “His was the truest heart and the wisest head and the strongest and gentlest hand in the land.” And the greatest historians of our own time have spoken in high, appreciative terms of Harold’s work and influence. How considerable, then, is the interest to the traveller and student alike of the place with which the life of Harold was so intimately associated.

Though within just over half an hour’s journey by rail from the Metropolis, and but a crow flight of some thirteen miles therefrom, it would be pretty safe to say that not one per cent. of the inhabitants of the great city have made any sort of acquaintance with the beautiful old minster of Waltham, which stands to-day for one of the finest examples of Norman architecture, vying with Westminster Abbey in this respect, whilst its history is, as old Thomas Fuller has observed, “the history of the Church of England.” And if this ancient pile represents so much architecturally and ecclesiastically, it occupies no mean position among those various influences that have gone to the making of English history.

Hither came, for one purpose and another, many of the royal heads of England, from Harold, the founder, to Charles II.; dignitaries of the Church, and potent ornaments of the State; while within the shadow of the minster’s massy walls lived and laboured men who have moulded and influenced the thoughts and lives of the people. Henry I. and Matilda of Scotland were visitors to the Abbey, the latter being a considerable benefactress; Henry II. established the monastery here and richly endowed it, he “loved Waltham entirely, and lay many times thereat.” King John came often to Waltham; Henry III. loved the Abbey for its beauty and seclusion, and resorted thereto often for peace and retirement. Edward I. and his beloved wife Eleanor were frequently in residence here, and when the body of the latter was brought from Grantham to London in 1290, it rested for a night here, the mortal remains of the king himself remaining in the Abbey, beside Harold’s tomb, for fifteen weeks, on their way from Scotland to Westminster in 1307. When Wat Tyler’s insurrection placed Richard II. in jeopardy he sought the sanctuary of the ancient pile. Henry VIII., who was very fond of Waltham, had a private lodging close by the Abbey, and was often the guest of the abbot. Cranmer was frequently resident at Waltham; John Foxe lived and wrote his “Book of Martyrs” here; Thomas Tallis, father of our beautiful church music, was organist at the Abbey; Thomas Fuller, author of the “Worthies of England,” was incumbent of the Abbey Church; so also was Bishop Joseph Hall, author of the “Contemplations”; Bishop George Hall was a native of the town; and Izaak Walton, who so loved the “gentle Lea,” was here often on a visit to a relative.

[Picture: Romeland. Waltham Abbey]

The bustling train lands the visitor at Waltham Cross Station, in the county of Herts, and one must proceed for about a mile on foot eastward to attain the Abbey and town of Waltham Holy Cross, which lie in the adjoining county of Essex. But after the “mean things that are new” have been passed, the way is pleasant. The road is bordered on one side for a goodly distance by the marshlands and crosses many times over the river Lea, which, as old Fuller humorously observes, “not only parteth Herts from Essex, but also seven times parteth from itself, and is crossed by so many bridges.” Beyond the waterside inn on the bridge that spans the Lea navigation, and displays the comforting sign of the “Old English Gentleman,” Highbridge Street is entered, and the old town opens out, with the tower of the Abbey, but just restored to its original dignity of design, closing in the view. The principal entrance to the Royal Gunpowder Factory lies just to the left here, and much that is picturesque and quaint will strike an observant eye on the way. The diversity in character and style of the houses and shops, the irregularity of their disposition, with their time-tinted exteriors, and the bits of garden and splashes of verdant foliage, which break up the line of bricks and mortar, timber and stucco, give the old street that peculiar charm which is so often characteristic of an ancient town.

Romeland.

Just before the Abbey is reached, approached by a way that allows little more room than is needful for a cart to pass, is an open square of very old houses, a most picturesque corner of the old town, that bears the somewhat curious appellation of Romeland. {12} How and why the place came to be so called it is not easy to determine; but the abbots of Waltham, whose seat was at Copt Hall, had their London house on or adjacent to a site in the parish of St. Mary-at-Hill, adjoining what is now Billingsgate Market, which was also called Romeland. To the rent of this, as well as the market square at Waltham, the Pope laid claim, and the latter was then known as Romescot or Peter’s Piece. It is to this circumstance, probably, that the place owes its name.

It was in the house of Master Cressy, a long-fronted structure, which stands on the left of the entrance to Romeland, that, in 1533, Cranmer, Fox, and Gardiner discussed the question of Henry’s divorce from Katherine of Aragon. Then it was that Cranmer “struck the keynote of the Reformation,” by claiming “for the Word of God that supremacy which had been usurped by the popes for centuries.” Fuller refers to this as a significant circumstance and says: “Thus did Waltham give Rome the first deadly blow in England.”

A King’s Diversions.

Bluff King Hal was very partial to Waltham and enjoyed the hunting in the forest. He frequently stayed at his house in the Romeland, still standing at the north-east corner. There are many stories, often with the “merry monarch” for a hero, connected with his patronage of Waltham. One day he left his hunting companions and returned to Waltham in the guise of one of his attendants, and, being invited to the abbot’s table, ate heartily of the sirloin of beef placed before him, to the great admiration of his host. “Well fare thy heart,” the latter toasted his guest, “here is a cup of sack, and remember the grace of thy master. I would willingly give one hundred crowns on condition that I could feed as heartily on beef as thou dost! Alas! my weak stomach will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbit or chicken.” The king pledged his host, and thanked him; in due time he departed as secretly as he had come. A little while after, the abbot was suddenly arrested and conveyed to the Tower, where he was kept for some days on bread and water. Then a sirloin of beef was set before him, of which he ate heartily. The king entered in the midst of the meal, and demanded of his prisoner payment of the hundred crowns, which, when the abbot recognised the trap into which he had fallen, he gladly paid.

On another occasion, when Henry was the guest of Sir Henry Colte, of Nether Hall, Roydon, the latter provided a novel entertainment for his royal guest. It is related that the knight and his men waylaid the monks on Waltham marsh one dark night, having been informed by spies that they were on a visit to Cheshunt nunnery, and, catching them in a buck stall (a trap used for deer) left them wallowing in the mire until dawn. Then the “knight of merry conceits” conducted his dejected captives to the king, and presented them to his majesty as the splendid game he had been able to secure. King Harry burst into a loud fit of laughter, and declared that, though he had “often seen sweeter, he had never viewed fatter venison.”

The open space (Romeland), with its quaint high-gabled, stuccoed, and red-brick houses, is a busy scene on Tuesdays, when the cattle market is held here. On the eastern side, abutting upon the Abbey church, the tower of which comes charmingly into view over the house tops, is the ancient corn mill, which was given to the Abbey by Maud, Queen of Henry I., in 1108, in exchange for the site of Holy Trinity, Aldgate. She also restored to the Abbey certain lands, which had been alienated, known as the Abbey fields, which stretch northward from here; and moreover established two fairs for the town.

Having so far diverged from the direct road to the Abbey, we may well go a little further, taking a narrow roadway that runs by the mill leading to the Abbey fields.

The Abbey Gateway.

At the termination of half a dozen or so of old houses and cottages, there comes into view a bridge over the mill stream, giving access to a beautiful arch, or rather pair of arches, known as the Abbey Gateway. What remains of this once important structure, which formed the main entrance to the Abbey and the abbot’s house, consists of the front only of the old gateway, and comprises two ancient pointed arches, with a tower on the south side (the corresponding tower on the north has disappeared). At the spring of the main arch, on either side, are still traceable the arms of Edward III. on a shield surmounted by an angel. The gateway was originally approached by a drawbridge, and the porter’s window in the tower which commanded this still exists. The entrance to the old monastic buildings was by a pointed doorway in the south wall, which extends from the gate, now bricked up. This handsome old gateway also formed the entrance to the mansion erected by Sir Edward Denny, to whom the abbot’s house was given by Elizabeth. He was the grandson of Sir Anthony Denny, Chamberlain to Henry VIII., to whom much of the ecclesiastical property of Waltham was given after the Dissolution. Sir Edward Denny’s house, which was a large one in the characteristic Elizabethan style (a central doorway and two projecting wings), is spoken of by an old chronicler as being “beautiful to behold,” with a spacious garden of a character “scarcely to be equalled by any private gentleman’s.”

[Picture: The Ancient bridge at Waltham Abbey, known as Harold’s Bridge. A most interesting Architectural Relic]

Higher up the Corn mill stream, in the Abbey fields, and bordering on the “pool,” is another beautiful remnant of very early architecture, probably contemporary with the Abbey church, known as Harold’s Bridge. Tradition says that in early times this was the only passage across the stream, and that not only Harold, but Tovi before him, used this bridge, when proceeding into or from the royal forest of Waltham. It is a most interesting architectural relic. There are still visible two of the five beautiful ribs which originally adorned this fine arch. Recently steps were taken to preserve this interesting monument of antiquity by restoring the stonework forming the base of the bridge. The Abbey farmhouse, with its picturesque Elizabethan front, which is said to have formed the abbot’s stabling in mediæval times, stands to the north-east of Harold’s Bridge.

[Picture: Waltham. The Abbey Gateway]

The Abbey Church.

From the Abbey fields, the finest view of Harold’s noble minster is obtained, and it is with feelings of pleasant anticipation that one retraces one’s steps thereto, meditating on the way upon the many strange and wondrous scenes that have been witnessed on the ground over which one passes. As the eye wanders over the beautiful lines and the massive, age-stained walls of the ancient church, the mind is impressed with its grandeur and its significance as a vast page of England’s story.

The Abbey church and town of Waltham Holy Cross alike owe their actual foundation to Tovi the Proud, standard-bearer and chief counsellor to Cnut, who, delighted by the fine opportunities for hunting which were afforded by the number of deer running in the great forest of Waltham, established a settlement here, and founded a convent. Hither, also, Tovi brought from his manor of Lutegarsbury (Montacute), in Somerset, a miraculous crucifix, and set it up in the church. The legend of this Holy Cross, as told in the _De Inventione_ tract, and translated by Lambarde, is a wonderfully interesting story.

The Legend of the Holy Cross.

It runs as follows: {17} “In the tyme that Kinge Cnut reigned in Ingland theare lyved at a Place of the called comonly Lutegarsbyry, in French Montague, a simple man by occupation a carpenter and by Office Sexton of his parishe, to whom on a Night appeared a Vision of Christe Crucified commaundinge him that as sone as Day brake he should goe to the parishe priest and with him accompanied by his parishioners in solemne processione to go up to the Toppe of the Hyll adjoyninge and to digge wheare (if they would beforehand make theimselves by Confession, Fastinge, and Praier worthy of suche a Revelacion) they should finde a Crosse, the very sign of Christes passion. This plaine Man, supposinge it a fantastical Dreame, tooke at first no great Head thereof, save that, he imparted it with his Wife who also thought it but an Illusion. Wherefore the Image appeared againe, and so griped him by the Hande that the Dynt of the Nayles remayned in his Hand to be sene the Daye followinge. Being thus pricked forwarde on he goeth to the Priest and discloseth the hole matter. He arrayeth his Parishe, displayeth his Banners, putteth on Copes and Surplas, and setteth the Carpenter foremost as his Captaine, they digge awhile and anone they find a great Marble havinge in it of black Flynt the Image of the Crucifixe so artificially wroughte as if God himselfe (sayth myne Auteur) had framed it. Under the right Arme of this Crucifixe thear was a small Image of the same Forme, a litle Belle also, and a black Booke conteyninge the Text of the four Evangelists. All this they signified to Tovi le Prude then Lord of the Soyle, Standarde Bearer to the Kinge and his Chief Councelor, who came to the place in great Hast and by the advice of his Gents lefte the smalle cross in the Churche theare determyninge to bestow the greater in suche Place as God should appointe. Forthewithe therefore he caused to be yoked twelve red Oxen and so many white Kyne and layeth the Stone in a Wayne myning if God so wille to cary it to Canterbyrye, but the Cattle could not by any Force be compelled to draw thytherwarde. When he saw that he changed his Mynde and bad theim dryve toward his House at Readinge whearin he had great Delighte, but still the Wayne stode immoveable notwithstandinge that the Oxen did thear best. At the Lengthe he remembered a small House that he had begone to buyld at Waltham for his Disporte and commanded them to make thytherward. Which words he had no soner spoken but the Wayne of itselfe moved. Now in the way many weare healed of many Infirmities; amongste the whiche threscore sixe Parsons’ {18} vowed their labour towarde the Conveiance of this Crosse, and weare the first Founders of Waltham Towne wheare was nothing before but only a simple House for this Tovi to repose himself at when he came thyther to hunte notwithstandinge that he had thereby divers Landes, as Enfield, Edelmetun, Cetrehunt, Myms, and the hole Baronie that Goffrey of Maundville the first of that name had. Now when the Crosse was broughte thyther, Tovi commaunded it to be set up, and while one by Chaunce perced it with a Nayle the Blood issued out of the Flinte in great Abundance. Whereat Tovi beinge greatly amazed, fel downe and worshipped it promiseth before it to manumittee {20} his Bondmen to bestow possession on such as should deserve it.”

[Picture: Waltham Abbey one hundred years ago. (Dr. Hughson’s “Circuit of London,” 1808)]

The cross gave its name to the place, and over a long series of years attracted crowds of the devote, the maimed, and diseased to the place. In 1192 the cross was covered with silver, but the figure of Christ was left untouched by reason, it is surmised, of a remarkable incident that had happened a few years previously. On that occasion, the crucifix being under repair, Robert the Goldsmith, of St. Albans, removed the circlet round the thigh, when all present were stricken blind for a considerable time.

Harold’s Minster.

On the site of Tovi’s foundation Earl Harold, upon whom Waltham and vast lands had been bestowed by Edward the Confessor, reared and endowed a magnificent church, which he intended to rival in beauty and importance King Edward’s abbey church at Westminster. The dean and twelve secular Black canons who formed the ecclesiastical constitution of Harold’s foundation, were amply provided for, each of the latter having a manor and the dean six manors for his maintenance. In later times (1177) Henry II., on the ground that the canons had grown wasteful and corrupt, substituted for Harold’s foundation an Augustinian priory, then, seven years later, raised this to the dignity of an Abbey, installing Walter de Gaunt, of Oseney, as the first abbot.

Harold’s church was splendidly adorned, in a manner that suggests, as the late Bishop Stubbs observes, that the founder had been influenced by Eastern art. Brazen plates, gilt, were spread over the walls, the capitals and bases of the massive pillars were curiously carved and wreathed with the gilded metal; the altar was enriched with elaborate ornaments, the furniture, reliquaries, and vestments were provided on a liberal scale. Numerous relics, in addition to the miraculous crucifix, formed part of the endowment. The consecration of the church probably took place on May 3, 1060, the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross, which became one of the fair days under the charter of Matilda. Kinsinge, Archbishop of York, performed the ceremony of consecration, assisted by most of the English bishops. King Edward and his queen Edith, sister of Harold, and the flower of the nobility, were present.

It was here that, scarce six years later, Harold, on his return from Stamford Bridge, had news of the Norman invasion. He stayed for the night at his mansion in the park at Nazeing, still called Harold’s Park, and on the morrow offered up prayers for his success in the Abbey. It is recorded that the figure of the Saviour on the wondrous crucifix bowed the head as if to express sorrow for his inevitable fate. He set out for Senlac accompanied by two of the canons, who, if the omen were fulfilled, were bidden to bring back with them the body of the founder. Harold’s war-cry was “Holy Rood.” The canons, true to their trust, recovered the king’s body, by the aid of Harold’s old love, Editha the “Swan-necked,” and brought it to Waltham with all possible honours. Here the remains were interred, being translated from time to time as alterations and additions to the church necessitated (it was not finally completed until 1125), finding a final resting place near the great altar, about 140 feet from the present east end of the church. Here a most beautiful and imposing tomb was erected, but all that remains of this is a curious piece of carved ironstone representing the face of a warrior, which, after many vicissitudes, including its use as a fountain ornament, was returned to the possession of the church a few years ago, and now reposes on the tomb of Robert Smith in the chancel.

To the antiquary, the student, and the lover of all that is beautiful in architecture, the ancient minster offers a boundless store of interest. In the course of his scholarly observations upon the architecture and history of the abbey church the late Professor Freeman says: “Barbarous mutilations and hardly less barbarous additions have entirely destroyed its character, as seen from without, and even within, both mediæval alterations of the strangest kind and the accumulated enormities of more recent days have gone far to ruin the general effect of the original building. Still a large portion of the original interior remains untouched; an interior deserving attentive study as one of the noblest specimens of Northern Romanesque, and invested with a yet higher interest if we may regard it as called into being by the taste and bounty of the last of our native kings.”

The noble edifice was cruciform in plan, with a nave and aisles (all that now remain), choir, and central tower. The spring of one of the great arches upon which this latter stood, is plainly visible at the present east end. This tower fell in 1552, doubtless owing to the destruction of the choir, and the present western tower was erected about five years later out of the fragments. The nave consists of seven bays, and is 109 feet long from east to west, by 55 feet wide, and from the floor to the beautifully painted ceiling, the work of Sir E. J. Poynter, is a height of 52 feet. Upon the great pillars that support the arches will be noticed the spiral and chevron indenting, originally filled with chased and gilt metal. In some places the rivet holes are still discernible. The aisles were originally vaulted, and the triforium passage above was lighted by the circular windows that will be noticed. There are three tiers of arches: the nave or arcade, the triforium, and the clerestory. The Rev. J. H. Stamp, in his excellent little history of Waltham, says of the plan and design of the church that whilst the cruciform plan was significant of Christ crucified, the twelve pillars represented the apostles, and the three tiers of arches the Holy Trinity.

[Picture: The interior of the Abbey Church, Waltham. Drawn by Duncan Moul]

The wonderful grandeur and nobility of the interior can well be appreciated by standing just within the tower and viewing the “long-drawn aisles” through the great western arch. This arch formed part of the scheme of restoration and rebuilding which took place at the latter end of the thirteenth century, when the original Norman doorway was removed and a grand Decorated west front substituted. This had two turrets on each side, terminating in octagonal pinnacles of fine proportions and design, and a beautiful Decorated window appears to have been inserted over the arch. Unfortunately, the present tower obscures much of this thirteenth century work. With this scheme of rebuilding, which was instigated by Abbot Reginald and carried out by his successors, Abbots Hugh and Robert, is associated a curious and unfortunate defacement or destruction of a portion of the beautiful Norman arcading. There will be noticed on either side of the church, near the west end, a high Gothic arch, sadly out of harmony with the remaining arcading. It is said that the architect who was first engaged upon the restoration work was demented, and set about transforming the architectural character of the church. He removed the elegant filling-in of the triforium and cut away the lower Norman arches, and after having thus mutilated two tiers of arches on each side, began upon the third tier on the north side, but was happily stopped in his crazy efforts by the interference of the abbot, and his peremptory dismissal. It is to his successor that we owe the beautiful western doorway and front. This restoration scheme also included the adornment of the interior with beautiful frescoes, signs of which are still slightly visible on one or two of the arches.

Relics and Monuments.

Within the tower of the church are preserved the old stocks and whipping-post, together with the pillory, which formerly stood on the site now occupied by the new municipal buildings. In the vestry are also preserved a number of interesting relics, including a pilgrim’s bottle and the massive blade of a battle-axe which, tradition avers, was Harold’s.

There are many monuments and numerous interesting tablets and memorials.

Of the monuments the most noticeable is the tomb of Sir Edward Denny and his wife Margaret, in the chancel. The knight is represented in armour lying on his left side, the figure of his wife reclining below; their ten children are carved in relief, in attitudes of prayer, upon the panel beneath. This Edward Denny was the comrade of Spenser, the poet, and Sir Philip Sidney, and the captor of the rebel Earl of Desmond.

Near by stands the effigy of Lady Elizabeth Greville, first cousin to Lady Jane Grey, widow of Henry Denny (son of Sir Anthony Denny) and wife of Sir Edward Greville, third son of the ancestor of the present Earl of Warwick. This effigy is all that remains of an elegant tomb of alabaster, which formerly stood to the north of the altar.

On the opposite side of the chancel, near the organ, stands the marble tomb of Robert Smith, a wealthy seaman of the seventeenth century. The magnificent choir which was so ruthlessly demolished by Henry VIII. at the Dissolution contained, in addition to the tomb of the founder, the handsome sarcophagi of Baron Hugh Nevil, Lord High Justice of England, temp. Richard I.; Archdeacon Passelew, and numerous abbots, earls, and knights.

There are three mural brasses on the south wall, one being to the memory of Edward Stacey, one of the lay pensioners of the monastery at the time of the Dissolution, and another to Thomas Colte, second son of Sir John Colte, of Nether Hall, Roydon.

The remains of the old choir screen, a beautiful example of carpentry and carving; the ancient Purbeck marble font; the handsome reredos, and the fine rose window above; the marks of the chain that once held the great Bible, on one of the pillars, and many other features are here to interest the visitor. The handsome stained glass in the Rose window, depicting the Creation, and the three lights under the arch were designed by the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones.

Nor must the beautiful Lady Chapel (the only chapel remaining of five that were originally attached to the church) be forgotten. This dates its foundation from 1316, and is by some regarded as one of the richest specimens of mediæval architecture in England. Its window tracery is certainly very elegant, though this has undergone considerable restoration. The interior was originally adorned with statuary and frescoes, a painting of the Last Judgment occupying the east wall. Traces of this ancient and curious representation are still discernible. The remains of the old piscina are also still in existence. Of the crypt beneath, Thomas Fuller, who, by the way, was for many years incumbent here, quaintly speaks as being “the finest that I ever saw.”

The greatness of the Abbey.

Having feasted the eye and the mind on the many beautiful and interesting features of the ancient fane, one may rest beneath the aged elm tree in the churchyard, and meditate upon the circumstance that this magnificent edifice is but a third portion of Harold’s minster, and that only a fragment of the old monastery which grew up around it in mediæval times, forming a vast congregation of stately buildings, now remains; that just as the physical characteristics of the Abbey and its minster were vast and important, so were its landed possessions, which stretched out far and wide on all sides; that the immensity of its wealth was such that at the time of the Dissolution the gross revenue amounted to £1,079 12s. 1d., representing about £15,000 at the present day; whilst the potency of the abbots, who were mitred and sat in Parliament, was great, and the splendour of their respective establishments was upon a generous scale. Some of these abbots, of whom there were thirty in all, were great in the best sense of the word, and exercised their potency for the good of the Abbey and the community towards which they stood in the joint relation of spiritual and temporal overlords.

A Feudal Abbot.

One of these particularly was a man of vigorous character and determined spirit, who, “in asserting the rights and privileges of the monastery during his rule, came into collision with parishioners, neighbours, pope, and king.” First, differences appear to have arisen between the parishioners and the abbot as to the former having right of access to the central tower and bells, which they had enjoyed under Harold’s foundation. The abbot accordingly shut out the people from this and the choir (the monastic part of the church) by erecting a stone screen or wall immediately behind the altar of the parish church (the present nave). This wall is clearly observable from the outside beneath the Rose window at the east end, and in this will be seen traces of two doorways with which it was pierced to allow the dean or parish priest to enter and minister to the people. There would seem to have been reprisals on the part of the parishioners, for a little later they disputed the abbot’s rights of grazing on the marsh, and, resorting to violence, severely assaulted the keepers and killed the abbot’s horses. For this the offenders suffered the double penalty of being heavily fined by the justices of the King’s Bench and excommunicated by the abbot. The latter, however, did not enforce either, and forgave the erring ones. Next Abbot Simon was at war with the lord of the manor of Cheshunt, Peter, Duke of Savoy, who claimed all the land west of the main stream of the Lea—called the King’s stream—whilst the abbot contended that his jurisdiction extended to the smaller stream half a mile further west. The lawsuit which ensued was, as old Fuller says, “as long lived as any in England,” by reason of “the greatness of the clients”; but it was finally concluded in favour of the abbot. This occurred in 1248, and three years later the doughty abbot was setting the pope at defiance by protesting against the persecution, oppression, and robbery of the conventual churches by the bishops and legates. Twice also Abbot Simon successfully resisted the extortionate demands of the king, and stubbornly refused to enrich the royal treasury at the expense of the monastery.

I am afraid I have rather digressed from the main purpose of this little work in relating some of the deeds of this sturdy abbot, but I think the brief relation of these may be of some interest as an illustration of the social and religious conditions of Waltham in mediæval times and of the wonderful power wielded by these old ecclesiastical potentates.

A Conventual Relic.

Now to resume the broken thread. The remaining fragment of the conventual buildings to which I have alluded above consists of a beautiful little chamber, often spoken of as “an architectural gem,” which stands in the Abbey gardens. It is locally known by the undignified appellation of the “potato cellar,” due to its irreverent use in modern times. It consists of a small longitudinal apartment, with a beautifully groined ceiling and quadripartite vaulting. It is 29 feet long, running north and south, and has two doorways, one of which is blocked up. It is considered to have been either the fratry or an antechamber to the abbot’s mansion, in which the monks assembled preparatory to the procession to the church.

One passes from the churchyard to the market-place—another interesting corner of the old town—by an ancient lych-gate, adjacent to the Harp Inn, which is peculiarly interesting as being probably the oldest existing relic of domestic architecture directly connected with the Abbey, and has from very early times formed the main entrance to the church.

Turning sharp to the left, into Sun Street, one is soon in the old main road that runs from London, by Walthamstow, Chingford, and Sewardstone, to Nazeing, Roydon, etc. To the left, round by the New Inn, the fine old wall of the Abbey gardens comes into view, and midway along its extent will be noticed the sign of the cross and a lozenge (probably a sign indicative of the Trinity) inserted in black brick. The remains of the moat, which, with the mill stream, completely surrounded the Abbey, will also be seen.

Retracing our steps towards London, a few yards beyond the entry of Sun Street, will be noticed an old house jutting upon the street, with stucco and “roughcast” exterior, the entrance to which is by a gate in the adjoining garden wall. This was the home of John Foxe, the martyrologist, and here he wrote the famous “Book of Martyrs.” It is said that Cranmer also occupied this house when resident in Waltham. Its interior presents many interesting features. In the garden is a tulip tree, which is probably a descendant of a fine specimen of this arboreal rarity, which flourished for centuries in the old Abbey gardens. This tree is said to have been one of the largest and finest of its kind in all England. Its fame is perpetuated by two finely carved chairs, made out of the wood of the old tree, which stand within the sacrarium of the Abbey church.

[Picture: The home of Foxe the martyrologist at Waltham]