“Ki ke volt çeo saver,
A Walteham, ultre le halt auter,
Meimes cel croiz purra trover,
E roi Haraud gisant en quer.”--CONTINUATION OF WACE’S ‘BRUT.’
The Abbey of Waltham owes most of its celebrity to its connexion with
the last of the Anglo-Saxon monarchs. Our early forefathers were
distinguished by their attachment to the pleasures of the chase; and the
vast forest with which this district was covered must have been a
favourite resort of the East-Saxon kings, as it was, after the
subversion of their independence, of the thanes of Essex. One of these,
named Tovi or Thovi, who held the high office of _stallere_ (or steward)
in the household of Canute the Dane, built himself a hunting residence
in the rich meadows on the banks of the Lea, in the same neighbourhood
where King Alfred had drawn away the waters of that river in order to
cut off the retreat of the Danish fleet. This hunting-house was the
_weald-ham_, or residence in the wood, from which the town afterwards
received its name.
The “weald-ham” was a favourite residence of Earl Tovi, and was soon
surrounded with the houses and huts of his retainers, thus becoming
gradually a village, occupied, as we are informed in the early
half-legendary history of the place, by threescore and six householders.
The erection of a church followed as a matter of course: although the
monks of the Abbey afterwards built there published a wild legend--how a
cross, miraculously discovered on the summit of a hill in Somersetshire,
then called Lutegaresberi, but since known by the name of Montacute,
which was also the property of Tovi, was no less miraculously conveyed
to this spot, and gave to it the subsequent appellation of <g>Waltham Holy
Cross</g>.[207] Tovi (who was lord of “Enefeld, Edelmetone, Cetrehunt,
Mimmes (?), and of the barony which afterwards, under the Normans,
passed into the family of the Mandevilles”) placed in his church two
canons, endowed it with lands in Waltham, “Chenleuedene, Hyche, Lamhee,
Luketune, and Alwaretune,” and gave to it the sword with which he had
been first girt when he was made a knight. His wife Glitha, a very pious
woman, added to these gifts a crown or wreath of pure gold. Their son
Athelstan did not, however, inherit the virtues and wisdom of his
parents; for, shortly after their death, he lost the manor of Waltham,
which, with others in the neighbourhood, appears to have been forfeited
to the Crown. Edward the Confessor gave it to his brother-in-law Harold.
Harold appears to have received these lands with the avowed purpose of
founding a religious house, by which, while according to the
superstitious belief of that age, he was securing the salvation of his
own soul, he flattered the monastic prejudices of King Edward. In the
twelfth century, the monks of Waltham had also a legendary account of
this second foundation: they said that Earl Harold, on his return from
the conquest of the Welsh, was visited by a dangerous attack of
paralysis, which defied the skill of the physicians, until it was
miraculously cured by a visit to the Holy Cross.[208] From that moment,
it is pretended the Earl never relaxed in his attachment to Waltham: in
place of the small foundation of Tovi, he built a magnificent church;
and there are strong reasons for supposing that, in spite of his
patriotic feelings and his known hatred to foreigners, he employed
Norman artists and workmen. The Waltham writers of the twelfth century,
who saw Harold’s church in its original form, speak of it in the most
enthusiastic terms, and tell us how, under the hands of his builders,
the walls and columns rose up in lofty majesty, while the latter were
connected by numerous arches, and the walls supported a roof groined
within and protected by lead without.[209] The interior of the building
was covered with “plates of brass, gilt;” and the bases and capitals of
the columns, with the “bendings” of the arches, were ornamented with
sculpture.[210] It is now ascertained, that in early times the interior
of churches, and also of other buildings, was painted in bright colours,
and gilt: the gilding being probably executed on thin plates of metal
which were attached to the stone-work. This mode of ornamentation
afterwards gave place to elaborate sculpture and carving. The mouldering
remains of these buildings, although still imposing by their grandeur,
convey to us only a slight idea of the effect which they must have
produced when adorned with paintings and glittering with gold. The
<g>Interior</g> of Waltham Abbey Church, degraded and mutilated as its
ornaments and proportions are at the present day, conveys to our mind no
mean idea of the former splendour of Harold’s church, of which we can
hardly doubt that it forms a genuine portion. As we survey its rows of
massive columns, and compare them with the humble objects around, we
feel ourselves mentally carried back eight hundred years to the festive
scene which followed their erection. At the consecration of those walls,
were present, besides the founder Earl Harold, the last King and Queen
of the regal line of the Anglo-Saxons--Edward the Confessor, and the
fair and interesting Edith, with two archbishops--Stigand of Canterbury
and Aldred of York, eleven bishops (among whom the most
[Illustration]
eminent were Hereman of Salisbury, Leofric of Exeter, and Gyso of
Wells), eleven abbots of important monastic houses, and a great number
of princes and nobles. In their presence was read publicly the royal
charter, which is still preserved, and bears the signatures of the King
and Queen, Harold, the two archbishops, and the bishops, abbots, and
thanes, who were assisting at the ceremony. The feast on this occasion
lasted eight days; and the guests were not only served profusely, but
large vessels full of wine and mead were placed in the fields and public
roads, in order that even accidental passers-by might drink their full.
Harold increased the number of canons from two to twelve. By the charter
just mentioned, they were put in possession of the manors of
“Passefelda, Walde, Upminster, Walhfare, Pippedene, Alwaretune,
Wodeforda, Lambehithe, Nesingnan, Brickendune, Melnho, Alichsea,
Wormeleia, Nettleswelle, Hicche, Lukintone, and Westwaltham.” Portions
of these lands were assigned to each canon to supply him with food and
clothing, those of which the rents were applied to the latter purpose
being distinguished by the name of _scrud-land_, or _clothing-land_.
Westwaltham was appropriated to the dean, in addition to his share with
the rest. Each canon had also assigned to him fifteen acres in Waltham
of what were termed the Northlands, in order that they might not be
distressed by any accidental stoppage of their supply from the
out-farms. According to the directions of the founder, the canons of
Waltham received extremely liberal rations of food. The daily allowance
of each was two loaves of very white bread, and one of a coarser
quality, the three being sufficient for six men; six bowls of ale,
sufficient for ten men at one drinking bout; and six dishes of different
kinds each day. In addition to this allowance, on feast days they were
served with “pittances,” or delicacies: if it were a feast of the first
dignity, each canon was to have three pittances; if of the second
dignity, he was allowed two pittances; and if of the third dignity, one.
A pittance, from Michaelmas-day to Ash-Wednesday, consisted of twelve
blackbirds, or two “agauseæ,” or two partridges, or one pheasant; during
the rest of the year, it consisted of goose or chickens. On
Christmas-day, Easter-day, and the day of Pentecost, and on the two
feasts of the Holy Cross, wine and mead were allowed.[211] The object in
giving the canons this profuse allowance of provisions, was to provide
for strangers, and for the poor and needy, the latter receiving each day
what was sent away from the Abbey table. The dean had a larger share
than the others, because more persons depended upon his charity and
hospitality than upon those of a simple canon.[212] In former times,
when from the want of means of conveyance the produce of the land was
necessarily consumed on the land itself, hospitality of this kind was
universally practised. Even in the houses of private gentlemen there was
a servant named an almoner, whose office it was to collect and
distribute to the poor at his master’s gate what remained of the meat
and drink served at the table; and the person who distributed the bread
to the guests, laid the first loaf in the alms-dish as an offering to
God.
The consecration of the church of Waltham occurred a little before
Whitsuntide, in the year 1062: in less than four years after this event,
Harold was
[Illustration]
advanced to the throne of England. During his short but eventful reign,
he conferred innumerable benefits on the Abbey, which were remembered
with gratitude long after the destruction of the Anglo-Saxon dynasty. In
his return from the defeat of the Danish invaders in the north, to stop
the progress of his Norman rival, Harold visited Waltham for the last
time. The brotherhood received him with sorrowful countenances, for
their minds were filled with gloomy forebodings; and when, on the
morning of his departure, Harold humbled himself in prayer before the
Holy Cross, which was surrounded by the relics and precious gifts which
he had conferred, one of the canons, whose eyes were fixed on the image,
declared that the wooden face suddenly assumed an air of sadness, and
that he saw the head bend downwards. His brethren were struck with
consternation; and, unable to restrain the king from exposing his own
person in an unequal combat, they sent with him two of the elder canons,
named Osegode Cnoppe and Ailric Childemaister,[213] to watch the course
of events, and to bring home the body of their benefactor in case he
should be slain. The result of the battle of Hastings is too well known
to need repeating on the present occasion.
Much obscurity still hangs over Harold’s fate. The old historians not
only differ in various circumstances in their account of the manner in
which he was killed, but some of them have declared their belief that he
escaped from the field of battle with his life. Even the canons, and
afterwards the monks, of Waltham were divided in their opinions on this
subject; and each party consigned their reasons to writing, in separate
treatises, which were long treasured up in the Abbey library, and which
are fortunately still preserved. According to the most probable of these
two versions of the story, when Osegode and Ailric saw that their
presentiments had been but too well founded, they repaired to the
Conqueror to obtain permission to seek for Harold’s body, and to carry
it to Waltham for interment. With some difficulty they succeeded in
their suit; but, after a long and fruitless search, Osegode was sent
back to Waltham with the intelligence that they could find no traces of
their king among the multitude of naked and stiffening corpses with
which the field was strewed. By the advice of the other canons, Osegode
took with him to Hastings Harold’s beautiful mistress, Editha
Swanneshals (or Edith with the Swan’s neck), who recognized the body of
her lover by secret marks which were known only to herself. Osegode then
placed it on a bier which he had prepared for the purpose, and it was
carried in solemn procession to Battle Bridge, whither the whole
brotherhood of Waltham had come to meet it. They carried the corpse to
Waltham, and buried it with honour in the choir of the Abbey
Church.[214]
Those who held a contrary opinion concerning Harold’s fate, said that
Edith had mistaken another corpse for that of her paramour; and that the
body of Harold had been found among a heap of corpses by some Saxon
women, who visited the field to administer aid and comfort to their
wounded and expiring countrymen. Finding him still breathing, they
carried him away from the spot, ignorant that it was their king; but he
was recognized by two countrymen, who took him to Winchester, where he
remained in concealment two years. At the end of that period, having
entirely recovered from the effects of his wounds, he went to Germany,
in the hope of inducing the old Saxons and Norwegians to assist him in
the deliverance of his country from the oppressions of the Normans; but
failing in this project, and becoming weary of the vanities of the
world, he determined to pass the rest of his days in retirement, and he
first visited Rome. From thence he returned in disguise, under the
assumed name of Christian, to England, and lived ten years as a hermit,
with one faithful attendant, among the rocks in the neighbourhood of
Dover. He next repaired to the borders of Wales, where he lived long in
solitude, exposed to the insults of the Welsh, over whom he had so often
triumphed in the days of his worldly glory. He finally removed to
Chester, where he died at an advanced age in a little cell attached to
the church of St. John, having, according to the story, confessed on his
death-bed that he was King Harold.[215] Such is the improbable legend
which found credit with one or two of the most esteemed of our early
writers.
Waltham Abbey appears to have experienced little favour from the first
Anglo-Norman kings. William the Conqueror, or (according to other
accounts) his son Rufus, carried away much of the valuable plate, gems,
and rich vestments which had been given by Harold, to enrich his two
churches at Caen in Normandy; but he seems to have left the landed
possessions of the Abbey untouched.[216] As a sort of reparation for
this injury, William Rufus is said to have given to the canons those
lands of Harold in Waltham which his father had conferred upon Walcher,
bishop of Durham, who made this place his residence when he came to
attend the court at London. The two queens of Henry I. were almost the
sole benefactors of this foundation during the first century after the
Norman Conquest:--the first, Matilda of Scotland, gave to the secular
canons the mill at Waltham; while Adeliza of Lorraine, Henry’s second
wife, bestowed upon them all the tithes of Waltham, as well those of her
demesne lands as those of her tenants.
In the latter half of the twelfth century, the canons of Waltham
experienced the same fate which had already struck most of the similar
Anglo-Saxon institutions. As the power of the pope gained strength in
England, it had constantly brought with it the dissolution of the
ancient colleges of secular priests, to make way for the introduction of
the more rigid discipline of the regular monks, who were literally the
“soldiers” of papal Rome. It is probable that the secular canons of
Waltham had relaxed in discipline and religion since their foundation,
placed as they were amid the “fatness of the earth.” During the period
of which we are now speaking, we find among them few traces of learning
or literary taste, and the name of Waltham scarcely occurs in the
political history of the twelfth century. Yet the few remaining writings
of the monks of this place are full of vivid descriptions of the
richness and beauty of the Abbey lands.
“O Waltham! pro te fecit manus Omnipotentis
Multum in mentis, semper et hinc amo te.
Nam dedit ipse tibi similem sibimetque figuram,
Excelsam, puram, quæ veneratur ibi.
* * * * *
Tu ditaris ita, nam prata foves meliora;
Stas inter nemora dite loco posita.
Te cingit fluvius necnon percurrit amœnus,
Piscibus et plenus: est situs egregius.
Et licet orneris pratis latis et agellis,
Structuris bellis, floribus et teneris.”[217]
So sang in quaint and jingling rhymes one of the historians of Waltham
in the reign of Henry II. The flower-decked meads which surrounded the
Abbey are not unfrequently alluded to; and that which has preserved to
modern times the name of Harold’s Park, was celebrated in a proverbial
leonine,--
“Haroldi parca florum bene dicitur archa.”
[Illustration]
The numerous little streams into which the river is here divided added
to the richness and diversity of the scenery, and were crossed by a
number of picturesque bridges. In the time of Leland (the reign of Henry
VIII.) there were “a 7 or viii. bridges in the towne of Waltham: for
there be divers socours of streamelettes breking out of the thre
principalle partes of Luye ryver.” The ruins of <g>one of these little
Bridges</g> may still be seen over a “streamelette,” about two hundred yards
to the north-east of the Abbey, forming an extremely picturesque feature
in the landscape. It consists of an elliptical arch, supported or
strengthened by three strong ribs, and appears to be a work of
considerable antiquity.
The beauty of the scenery and the richness of the soil seem to have been
the chief delight of these pampered canons. They were accused (how
justly it is now difficult to decide) of luxurious living and great
relaxation of discipline; and their last dean, Guido Rufus, was
suspended from his office by Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, the
immediate successor of Thomas Becket. The king was at this time seeking
opportunities of appeasing the church of Rome for the murder of Becket,
and, influenced by the persuasions of the archbishop, he went to Waltham
on the eve of Pentecost, in the year 1177, and having expelled the
secular canons, he established in their place sixteen regular canons of
the order of St. Augustin, taken out of three of the older English
monasteries, namely, six from Cirencester, six from Oseney, and four
from Chiche. Walter de Gaunt, a canon of Oseney, was elected the first
Abbot of Waltham. The Abbey itself was declared, as formerly, free from
all episcopal jurisdiction; and a few years afterwards the abbot was
allowed the use of the pontificals, and Waltham was raised to the rank
of a mitred abbey. King Henry, judging, as he states in the charter,
that the church thus reformed, “as a new spouse of Christ, ought to have
a new dower,”[218] added to its former possessions the manors of
Siwardston and Epping.
From this period the Abbey of Waltham was, during several reigns, a
favourite resort of the English monarchs; and, separated by its woods
from the “busy hum” of the world around, it seems to have escaped the
troubles and turmoils of baronial strife. Henry’s son and successor, the
lion-hearted Richard, gave the monks a new charter, confirming all their
possessions and privileges; and by a separate charter he bestowed on the
church the whole of his manor of Waltham, with the great wood, and the
park called Harold’s Park, three hundred acres of assart land, the
market of Waltham, and the village of Nasing (a member of Waltham), with
three hundred and sixty acres of assart land there, for all which they
were to pay yearly to the king’s exchequer sixty pounds. King Richard
also gave them the manor of Copt Hall, which afterwards became a
favourite residence of the abbots. Henry III., who frequently visited
Waltham, was also a munificent benefactor; and among other favours he
granted them the privilege of holding a fair during seven days annually.
In this reign considerable alterations appear to have been made in the
buildings of the Abbey, The church was re-dedicated in the year 1242, by
the Bishop of Norwich, in the King’s presence;
[Illustration]
and it has been conjectured, that at that time was built Our Lady’s
Chapel on the south side of the present church: this chapel still
exists, although it has been long converted into a school-room. It has
been supposed also that the <g>Inner Porch</g>, under the present steeple, was
built about the end of this reign, or early in that of Edward I.
In spite of the royal favour and protection, the monks of Waltham were
engaged in several vexatious disputes during the reign of Henry III. The
kind of lordship which the abbot exercised over the town, the mode in
which the Abbey possessions and business became intermixed with those of
the townsmen, and the frequent and unavoidable clashing of their several
interests, led to much mutual ill-will. A great number of the townsmen
were tenants of the abbot. We still find in several parts of the town
some remains of the old houses on the Abbey domain, particularly those
standing in what is called <g>Baker’s Entry</g>, which have an appearance of
great antiquity. But the most serious disputes arose out of the
contending claims to rights connected with the common lands.[219] Simon
de Seham was elected Abbot of Waltham in 1248; and the same year the
townsmen went in a riotous manner into the marsh, where they claimed
rights in opposition to those enjoyed by the abbot, and killed four of
the abbot’s mares, worth at least forty shillings sterling, and drove
away the rest. Simon de Seham allowed this act of violence to pass
without punishment; but when the men of Waltham came to him the year
following, on the Tuesday before Easter, and summoned him to remove his
mares and colts out of the marsh, he refused to listen to them, and
deferred the matter till the Tuesday after Easter. On that day the men
and women of the town assembled tumultuously at the Abbey gate to
receive the abbot’s answer; but he again deferred the matter to a
further day, stating in excuse that he had been busily occupied in
preparing for a journey into Lincolnshire to meet the justices
itinerant. Then the townspeople reviled the abbot in presence of
Richard, Earl of Cornwall, the king’s brother, who had come to Waltham
Abbey the same day; and, hastening to the marsh, they drove away the
abbot’s mares and colts--drowning three, valued at twenty shillings;
spoiling ten more, worth ten marks; and beating the keepers who resisted
them, even to the shedding of blood. On the abbot’s return from
Lincolnshire, the people of Waltham, apprehensive of the consequences of
their violent proceedings, desired a love-day to settle the dispute; but
suddenly changing their minds, they went to the king at London, and made
a complaint against the abbot, that he was infringing their rights,
introducing new customs, and, as they expressed it, that he was “eating
them up to the bones.” The abbot, in retaliation, excommunicated them;
and they impleaded him at the common law. After many hearings, the
abbot, as the stronger party, gained the cause; and the people of
Waltham were obliged to acknowledge that they had done him wrong, and
they were fined twenty marks; but, on their submission, he remitted the
fine, and relieved them from the sentence of excommunication.[220]
[Illustration]
In the same reign, the abbot of Waltham became involved in a lawsuit
with the lord of the neighbouring manor of Cheshunt, who was, at that
time, Peter Duke of Savoy, the king’s uncle, and therefore a powerful
opponent. Both parties laid claim to certain meadow lands which lay
between two branches of the river Lea, one asserting that the eastern
stream, the other that the western stream, was the boundary line between
their respective estates. After an obstinate dispute, the lord of
Cheshunt agreed to yield up his claim to the abbot; but these meadows
were frequently afterwards a subject of litigation. A new lawsuit was
begun in the time of the last abbot of Waltham; and the question
remained undecided when the Abbey was surrendered to King Henry VIII.
Until the reign of this monarch, Waltham continued to receive frequent
visits from the English kings, who are said to have possessed a small
house within the parish, at a spot known in more recent times by the
name of <g>Romeland</g>, where occasionally they sought pleasure and
retirement. Richard II. was residing here at the time of Wat Tyler’s
insurrection. It was also a favourite retreat of King Henry VIII.; and
Fuller has preserved a traditionary anecdote relating to one of Henry’s
visits, which (though a similar story has been told of other kings in
like circumstances) loses nothing by being repeated. The king was one
day hunting in the forest; and, wandering from his companions, he came
to the Abbey, about dinner-time, in the disguise of one of his own
guard. He was immediately invited to the abbot’s table, and a sirloin of
beef was placed before him. The king was hungry, and ate very heartily,
to the great admiration of the abbot, whose pampered stomach had been
spoilt by the good fare of his house. “Well fare thy heart!” he said to
his guest: “here is a cup of sack, and remember the health of his Grace
thy master. I would willingly give a hundred pounds on condition that I
could feed as heartily on beef as thou dost. Alas! my weak stomach will
hardly digest a wing of a small rabbit or chicken.” The king pledged his
host, and then, thanking him for his hospitality, departed as secretly
as he had arrived. Shortly afterwards, a pursuivant suddenly made his
appearance at Waltham; and, to the consternation of the whole
fraternity, the abbot was carried to London, and committed a close
prisoner to the Tower, where he was kept for some days strictly confined
to a diet of bread and water. The severity of his imprisonment was then
as suddenly relaxed, and a sirloin of beef was set before him, on which,
to use the quaint expression of the old narrator of this story, “he fed
as heartily as a farmer of his own grange.” The king immediately entered
from a small lobby, where he had been looking on unobserved, and
demanded of his prisoner a hundred pounds, the sum promised to him who
should restore his lost appetite, which the abbot paid immediately, and
lost no time in returning again to enjoy the good cheer of his own
refectory.
We can trace, but with uncertainty, the progress of destruction with
which this noble building was visited after its <g>Dissolution</g>. Part of the
church, with the offices and other parts of the Abbey, were probably
demolished for the sake of the materials, the nave only being reserved
to the people of Waltham to serve as a parish church. The commissioners
were so unscrupulous in their plunder, that they even offered for sale
the five bells in the steeple, which, however, were purchased by the
parishioners. In the old books of the churchwardens, we find, under the
date 1544, the item, “Received of Adam Tanner the overplus of the money
which was gathered for the purchase of the bells, two pound four
shillings and eleven-pence.” The ancient steeple stood in the middle of
the church: it had been left in so dangerous a condition, that it was
found necessary to take down the bells as soon as purchased, and to
erect for them a wooden belfrey at the south-east end of the churchyard,
where there stood formerly two yew-trees. A few years afterwards, in the
beginning of the reign of Queen Mary, the steeple fell down: in 1556,
there is an entry in the parish books, “For coles to undermine a piece
of the steeple which stood after the first fall, two shillings.” The
parishioners immediately began to build the present <g>Steeple</g>, at the west
end of the church, at a very considerable expense, which was furnished
from the money they had collected by the sale of the old church
furniture, by subscriptions for the occasion, and by the sale of
materials from the ruins of the Abbey; and, to finish it, they were at
last obliged to sell the bells which they had before patriotically
rescued from the fate that had absorbed so much of the rich plate and
furniture of the Abbey. Several of the entries in the parish books at
this time show us how the work of demolition was gradually proceeding.
In 1558, at the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, the sum of three
shillings and two-pence was paid for taking down the rood-loft. In 1562,
there was “paid for a bay nagge, given to Mr. Henry Denny for the Abbey
wall, three pound seventeen shillings.” “Item, to labourers which did
undermine the said wall, forty-nine shillings and nine-pence.” This
Abbey wall was a building which extended eastward beyond the old
steeple; and the churchwardens for some years afterwards carried on a
great trade in the sale of lead, stone, and timber taken from it.[221]
In 1563, “for the old timber in the little vestiary of St. George’s
Chapel, fifteen shillings.” All memory of the site of this chapel
appears to be long lost. In the same year, “for taking down the stairs
in the Abbey, seven shillings eight-pence;” and “for taking down the
lead from the charnel-house, and covering the steeple, eighteen
shillings.”
In 1547, King Edward VI. made a grant of the conventual estate of
Waltham, for thirty-one years, to Sir Anthony Denny, one of the
executors of Henry VIII., who dying soon afterwards, the reversion in
fee was purchased by his widow. Their grandson, Sir Edward Denny, was
created Baron of Waltham by King James I., and Earl of Norwich by King
Charles I. From him the estate passed by marriage to James Hay, Earl of
Carlisle; and it subsequently came into the possession of the family of
Wake.
The Abbey of Waltham, when entire, was very extensive, including within
its walls many acres of ground. The remains of the <g>Entrance Gateway</g>,
approached by an old bridge, stand at some distance to the north of the
church. This gateway is of stone, repaired with large bricks, and
consists of a larger and a smaller pointed arch, with delicate
mouldings; the exterior mouldings springing from figures of angels,
which support shields containing the royal arms of England as they were
drawn in the reign of Edward III. which appears to be the date of this
part of the building. This gateway
[Illustration]
and the church are all that now remain standing of this once noble
edifice.[222] The present parish church is formed of the nave of the
ancient church, which had the form of a cross. The choir, which was a
continuation of the present building towards the east, with the two
transepts, and the Lady Chapel, appear to have been demolished
immediately after the dissolution of the Abbey. The steeple stood at the
intersection of the choir and nave with the transepts; and it appears to
have fallen spontaneously a few years after the transepts and choir were
taken down. By that accident, the nave was left open at the east end,
and it was built up with modern masonry, which, mixed with the old
circular arches and windows of the original building, and with the two
great western supports of the steeple which are still visible, give to
this part of the church externally a singularly dilapidated appearance.
The <g>Choir</g> appears to have been very extensive; for the site of <g>Harold’s
Tomb</g>, which we know was in that part of the church, perhaps near the
high altar where the <g>Holy Cross</g> stood, is still pointed out by tradition
at a spot about forty yards to the east of the present church. This
choir was probably built in the reign of Henry II., when that monarch
changed the character of Harold’s foundation. At that period the relics
of King Harold were translated thither from a former tomb; and the
author of the treatise ‘De Inventione Sanctæ Crucis Walthamensis,’ who
wrote in the latter part of the twelfth century, assures us that he was
present on that occasion, and that he saw the wounds on Harold’s
body.[223] Fuller, speaking from tradition, says that the sepulchre of
Harold was a plain tomb of grey marble, supported by “pillarets,” with a
“sort of cross fleury” sculptured upon it; and he asserts that he had
one of its pedestals in his own possession. Farmer, in his History of
Waltham Abbey, has given an engraving of a mask, which, he says,
(probably without any good reason,) was one of the ornaments of the same
tomb. It is equally improbable, that the coffin discovered in the latter
end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, by a gardener in the service of Sir
Edward Denny, was that which contained the body of the martyr of
Hastings.[224] Fuller, writing in the time of the Commonwealth, says
that “a picture of King Harold in glass was lately to be seen in the
north window of the church, till ten years since some barbarous hand
beat it down under the notion of superstition.” About half a century ago
another coffin was found near the same spot, containing an entire
skeleton enclosed in lead. Many persons of distinction appear to have
been buried at Waltham; among them are mentioned the names of Hugh
Nevil, protho-forester of England, who, dying in 1222, was interred here
under a noble engraved marble sepulchre; of his son John Nevil; and of
Robert Passelew, archdeacon of Lewes, one of the favourites of Henry
III.
[Illustration]
A very elegant pointed arch, now forming the entrance from the tower to
the interior of the church, of which we have given a representation on a
preceding page, appears to be of the reign of Henry III.; the defects
observed in the upper part of its ornaments were caused by some
barbarous hand, which cut away part of the sculptured stone, in order to
introduce a new erection, with which the workman appears to have
proceeded no farther. The <g>Principal Entrance</g>, which is also an elegant
sharply-pointed arch, is supposed to date from the reign of Edward III.
At the south-east extremity of the present building is a chapel, which
bears evident marks of the age of the Tudors, although much defaced and
altered. Nearly the whole of the church itself, with the exception of
the modern alterations which it has undergone, is the erection of King
Harold, and formed perhaps the principal part of the church as he left
it. The interior, which in modern times has been miserably disfigured by
thick coats of plaster and whitewash, possesses still an appearance of
solemn grandeur, although its groined roof has been taken down, and its
place supplied by a lower flat ceiling. The close resemblance between
this interior and the interior of the nave of Durham Cathedral (built a
few years after the Conquest) has frequently been noticed. The body of
the nave is separated from the side aisles by two rows of large and
massive cylindrical pillars, ornamented with spiral and zig-zag grooves,
like the similar pillars in the nave at Durham. These pillars support
large circular arches, with zig-zag mouldings. Above these on each side
is a second row of large arches, supported by short columns; and above
these is a third series of treble arches, each consisting of one large
arch, with a smaller one on each side. These latter front the principal
windows by which the interior of the church is lighted. In the second or
middle tier of arches there were once central columns, with arched
mouldings, dividing each of the large arches into two. Between each
series of arches a three-quarter pilaster moulding rises to the ceiling,
and appears formerly to have sustained the groined roof. Two of the
circular arches of the lower row have been altered, probably at the time
[Illustration]
when the present steeple was erected, to pointed arches, and carried up
to the string course of the clerestory. The only remnant of the
furniture and utensils of this old church is its ancient <g>Font</g>. The east
end of the nave has been railed in to form a chancel. The whole length
of the nave is a hundred and six feet; and its breadth fifty-three feet,
including the aisles. The interior height is at present forty-six feet.
The most interesting monument in Waltham Abbey Church is that of Sir
Edward Denny and his lady, which is situated near the eastern extremity
of the south aisle. Near the altar rails is a defaced grey slab, which
once bore a mitred figure, probably one of the abbots.
The steeple is a massive square tower, eighty-six feet high, embattled,
and supported by strong buttresses. It was erected, as has been already
stated, during the reign of Queen Mary, at the expense of the
parishioners. It appears from the parish books that for the first
fifty-three feet the expense of building, independent of the materials,
was 33_s._ 4_d._ a foot, and that the upper part cost 40_s._ a foot, the
difference arising probably from the increase in the value of labour in
the reign of Elizabeth, when the tower was completed. The principal
modern alterations in this church appear to have been made between the
years 1668 and 1680.[225]
The out-buildings attached to the church are on the <g>South Side</g>. They
consist of a vestry and school-room, occupying what was formerly the
Lady Chapel. This has been so much modernized, that very little of the
original building can now be seen. It appears that a large portion of
the money expended on reparations in the latter part of the seventeenth
century was applied to the building and furnishing of the school-room.
Underneath this
[Illustration]
building is a crypt, curiously groined, which is now used as a
charnel-house. This Lady Chapel, from the style of what remains of the
original architecture, and the ornamental <g>Buttresses</g> which still exist,
has been supposed to be as old as the time of Henry III.
Waltham Abbey can boast of fewer learned men than most of the old
monastic houses. Fuller mentions Roger de Waltham, canon of St. Paul’s,
a writer in the thirteenth century, and John de Waltham, keeper of the
privy seal to King Richard II. The same historian places Robert Fuller,
the last abbot of Waltham, among the literary men of that house, because
he had written a history of his abbey, which Thomas Fuller professes to
have consulted: it is probable, however, that this “history” was nothing
more than the register of charters and other deeds of the abbey, still
preserved in the Harleian Library, which would reduce Abbot Fuller’s
claim to literary honours within very modest limits. It was from a deed
of Abbot Fuller, that Farmer gave one <g>Coat of Arms</g> belonging to this
abbey, which is _gules_, two angels _or_, flying with their wings
extended, with their hands holding between them a cross _argent_. A
different coat (which is represented in a former cut) is given by Fuller
the historian, along with the arms of the other mitred abbeys. At the
time of its surrender in 1539, Waltham was one of the richest abbeys in
the kingdom, the gross amount of its revenues being, according to
Speed, nearly eleven hundred pounds a-year: according to the Monasticon,
the clear income was nine hundred pounds.
[Illustration]
The Abbey of Waltham, as we have before stated, makes no great figure in
history after the Norman Conquest. An early collection of narratives of
miracles supposed to have been performed by the virtues of the <g>Holy
Cross</g>, furnishes us with some curious details of the misfortunes which
befel the town and church in the days of King Stephen.[226] At that
turbulent period, when every man was at war with his next neighbour, and
which is naïvely characterized in the legends referred to as being
_seditionis tempore_, the town of Waltham, as part of the dower of
Adeliza, Queen of Henry I., belonged to her second husband, William de
Albini, Earl of Arundel, between whom and the outlawed baron, Geoffrey
de Mandeville, a deadly feud had arisen. We shall probably have another
occasion to speak at large of the exploits of Geoffrey de Mandeville.
One day he brought or sent to Waltham a body of his Flemish auxiliaries,
who set fire to the town, and the flames spreading quickly, communicated
with the houses of the canons. In the midst of the confusion, the
invaders penetrated to the church, where the town’s-people had deposited
the most valuable part of their effects. The canons, who appear to have
considered themselves entitled to the special protection of Geoffrey de
Mandeville (as Earl of Essex), after vain endeavours to prevail with his
men by fair words to desist from their enterprise, had recourse to what
was then looked upon as a last and desperate expedient--they dragged
from its place above the altar the Holy Cross, which was supposed to
spread its protection over the neighbourhood, and threw it upon the
floor: and it was handed down as a tradition of the place, that in the
very hour of the throwing down of the Cross, Geoffrey de Mandeville
received his death-wound at the siege of Burwell. The canons of Waltham
boasted that their church was rescued from the rage of the plunderers by
divine interposition; and that five Flemings, who had already filled
their sacks with precious articles, were thrown miraculously into such a
state of mental confusion that they could not find their way out of the
church, but remained wandering among the boxes and packages with which
the interior of the church was encumbered, until they were taken by the
townsmen on their return from the pursuit of their enemies, whom they
had driven away. The canons now rescued the offenders from the vengeance
of the people of Waltham, and, after having administered to them the
monastic discipline, namely, a severe flogging, they set them at
liberty. One of their leaders, named Humphrey de Barentone, who,
entering the church on horseback, had been active in inciting the
Flemings to plunder and violence, is said to have been struck with
madness (perhaps with paralysis) as he was leaving the town: he was
carried back to the church, and died within three days; but not till he
had repented and made some compensation to the church of Waltham, by
giving to it fourteen acres of land in ‘Luchentuna.’
<g>Environs.</g>--The neighbourhood of Waltham presents a few historical sites,
and some interesting localities. The river <g>Lea</g> was the scene of Isaac
Walton’s piscatory rambles. It is now chiefly remarkable as giving
motion to a number of powder-mills. The neighbouring hamlet of <g>Waltham
Cross</g> contains one of the few that remain of the crosses erected by
Edward I., in memory of his beloved queen Eleanor. To the south of
Waltham is Enfield Chase; and a short distance to the west is the site
of the Palace of <g>Theobald</g>. To the north may still be seen the mouldering
ruins of the Nunnery of <g>Cheshunt</g>, said to have been founded in the reign
of Henry III.
There is still a vague legendary tradition of a subterranean
communication between the Abbey of Waltham and Cheshunt Nunnery. But the
monks of the former house, who are accused of having sought comfort
among the gentle occupants of the latter for the troubles and vexations
they received from the litigious lords of the manor, appear to have
sought no such hidden road by which to pay their visits to the nunnery.
The tales which continued to be current in the time of Fuller, show that
there must have been some ground for the scandal. The following story
has found a place in the “Church History:”--
“One Sir Henry Colt, of Nether Hall in Essex, much in favour with King
Henry VIII. for ‘his merry conceits,’ came to Waltham late at night,
being informed by spies that the monks were on a visit at Cheshunt
Nunnery. In order to intercept them on their return, he pitched a
buckstall (which was used to take deer in the forest) in the narrowest
place in the marsh, where he knew the monks must pass, and placed some
of his confederates to watch it. The monks, as was expected, ran all
into the net; where they were secured till next morning, when Sir Henry
Colt brought the king to show him his game. The merry monarch is said to
have burst into a loud fit of laughter, and to have declared that,
‘although he had often seen sweeter, he had never seen fatter venison.’”
AUTHORITIES.--Michel, Chroniques Anglo-Normandes.--The Legend De
Invent. Sanct. Crucis Walthamensis, MS. Harl. 3776.--Miracles of
the Holy Cross, MS. Cotton Julius, D. VI.--Fuller.--Farmer’s
History of Waltham Abbey, Lond. 1735.--Wace’s Chronicle of the
Norman Conquest.--Leland, &c.
[Illustration: CARISBROOKE CASTLE,
_ISLE OF WIGHT._]
[Illustration]