WALTHAM ABBEY, WALTHAM CROSS,
CHESHUNT, AND HIGH BEECH, EPPING FOREST.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.

The home of Foxe the martyrologist at Waltham

CHAPTER II.
A RAMBLE TO EPPING FOREST AND HIGH BEECH.

From Foxe’s house it is a pleasant walk to Epping Forest and High Beech. The way is by Farm Hill (almost opposite Foxe’s house) to Brookside, thence sharp to the right over the bridge, and up the hill by the old windmill for a little more than half a mile, to the hamlet known as Honey lane, where the margin of the fine old forest, the heights of which will have been viewed on the way, opens out. We turn up by the covered well and trough into Honey lane itself. Those who may prefer to ensure a right direction may keep to the roadway, which strikes up the hill through the forest, and, bearing sharp to the left and right respectively, leads direct to High Beech. It is more pleasant, perhaps, to wander through the woodland, and such as would prefer to do this may strike across the plain to the left of the bridge over the stream, following the line of the watercourse, then, taking a break in the thicket that will be found, a clear way called the Verderer’s Path will soon be entered. Pursuing this to the right (south), we come out at the top of the hill in Honey lane, near a cyclists’ caution board, and the way to High Beech, the spire of the church being clearly noticeable, is then straight along the road. Many a charming peep over the Lea Valley will have been enjoyed on the way, but from High Beech Plain a panorama of superb beauty is opened out to view. Those who have hitherto regarded the home counties of Essex, Middlesex, and Herts as poor, flat, and featureless parts of our England will be agreeably surprised at the rich beauty of the landscape which this view of the Lea Valley affords.

Tennyson’s home.

It was a scene that the late Lord Tennyson, who resided for some years at Beech Hill Park here, which lies a little to the west of the King’s Oak Inn, loved and admired, as he also reverenced the ancient town and minster of Waltham. It was the sonorous bells of Harold’s church that inspired the beautiful lines of “In Memoriam”:

“Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky.”

His noble drama of “Harold,” too, doubtless owes its inception to the poet’s residence in and intimate connection with this locality. High Beech church lies a little beyond the King’s Oak Inn and the plain; it is a modern building in the Gothic style.

From the church we retrace our steps to the inn named, and make the historic earthworks known as Ambresbury Banks or Camp (a bee line of about two miles) our next objective. The road continues beyond the junction with Honey lane, whence we came, then bears to the right on to the Wake Arms Inn and the main Epping road, a little less than a mile along which brings us to the camp, this lying on the east side of the road. But there is a very pleasant way thither through the heart of the forest, which I will endeavour to describe. Here, however, I would suggest that all who wish to enjoy the real beauty of the forest in this way should take the precaution to carry a reliable compass, for it is very easy to become confused about the geographical circumstances of one’s surroundings among the wood and thicket.

We turn off across the open plain to the right, about 300 yards beyond the King’s Oak Inn, where will be found a track or walk, which at times is rather indistinct. Follow this for about half a mile, then turn sharp to the right (east) through the glade into the valley, skirting the swamp and Wake Valley ponds (leaving these to the north) on to the main road. Here we turn to the left and continue to the Wake Arms Inn. Thence the Theydon road (opposite) is taken, down Jack’s Hill for about half a mile, and when the Verderers’ Ride is noticed on the left, this is followed to Ambresbury Banks. This route will take the wanderer through parts of the forest that are almost unfrequented, where oak and beech and hornbeam flourish in all their wild grandeur; where many of the fungi and lichens, for which the forest is so noted, will be met with, as well as many beautiful flowering plants, rare-winged insects, and most of the birds, so large and representative a number of which make their home in the forest. Nor is it at all unlikely that a herd of the forest deer will be seen, for these graceful creatures generally resort to this part. Upon the walk one’s mind almost naturally reverts to the days when this 5,000 odd acres of woodland, now the “people’s playground,” was a mere morsel of the great forest of Waltham, an almost boundless tract of wild forest land, which formed the favourite hunting ground for the Saxon, Norman, Plantagenet, and Tudor kings.

Of Ambresbury Camp, which we have now attained, much has been said and written in dispute as to its origin. There, however, seems to be little doubt that it formed an important British earthwork, and, despite all that has been said to the contrary, it is extremely probable that it formed the final stronghold of Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni, from which she and her vast army of Britons issued forth to do battle with the Roman legions under Suetonius Paulinus, and suffered that terrible defeat of which history tells us. This is a spot, therefore, that awakens solemn thoughts.

Copt Hall and Upshire.

The road back to Waltham turns out of the Epping highway directly opposite the camp, and takes us by the main entrance and lodges of Copt Hall, once the stately seat of the abbots of Waltham, who frequently entertained royal heads, potent princes, and great nobles here. Robert Fuller, the last abbot, surrendered the beautiful mansion and domain to Henry VIII. at the Dissolution. In later times Copt Hall was the residence of the Princess Mary, subsequently the seat of the Earl of Middlesex, patron of old Thomas Fuller, and is now held by the Wythes family. Half a mile further on we enter the pretty hamlet of Upshire, with its broad expanse of green and pretty little church, built a year or two ago by Sir T. Fowell Buxton, Bart., lord of the manor, whose fine domain of Warlies stretches far away over the undulating country to the north. The entrance to Warlies is passed at the bottom of the hill. Thence the way is by a pleasant country road, running through fields and pastures, with here and there a farm-house or a group of cottages, to Waltham Abbey again.

The Eleanor Cross at Waltham

CHAPTER III.
WALTHAM CROSS AND THEOBALDS

Waltham Cross, which is not to be confounded with Waltham Holy Cross, commonly called Waltham Abbey, for whilst the latter is in Essex, the former is in Hertfordshire, and forms part of the parish of Cheshunt. To reach Waltham Cross, the visitor must retrace his steps towards the railway, and passing over this, the historic monument, which stands at the junction with the old Great North Road—is reached by a walk of five minutes’ duration.

Waltham Cross was one of the several similar monuments erected to the memory of Queen Eleanor by her devoted husband, Edward I. She died at Herdby, near Grantham, on November 12, 1290, whence her remains were conveyed to Westminster for interment by stages which were marked by ten crosses. Of these only the crosses at Geddington, Northampton, and Waltham remain.

Waltham Cross has long been admired as an elegant specimen of Early English or Middle Pointed architecture. It is hexagonal in form, and consists of three handsome stages or storeys, each terminated by an embattled frieze, whilst the angles are respectively supported by a graduated buttress, ornamented with foliated finials. Within the panels of the lower storey are shields bearing the arms of England, Castile, and Leon and Poictou; whilst statues of Queen Eleanor occupy niches on the second storey.

The Four Swans Inn.

Each corner of the road that here debouches upon the main high road is occupied by an inn, that nearer London being the Falcon, and the other the Four Swans. Both are survivals of that period of prosperity when the coaches between London and Cambridge sped along the road. Whilst, however, the Falcon has been rebuilt in recent times—a work which made possible the widening of the roadway and the preservation of the Cross—the Four Swans retains very much of its old-time glory, and its sign is still stretched across the main street, forming an advertisement of such a conspicuous character as would not be admissible now-a-days. The interior of this inn possesses many of those interesting features which are generally attached to old coaching and posting houses, and in its oldest portion is a handsome Jacobean staircase. Its foundation, however, dates far beyond even coaching days, for the house originally formed part of the possessions of the Abbey, of which it was a guest house, whilst the Abbot’s manorial court was held here. The oldest part of the house is that to the left of the gateway on entering, and it is highly probable that the suite of rooms in which the tenants assembled—described by Dr. Stukeley in 1752 as being “where the chimneys are”—were contained in this wing, whilst the older portion of the spacious apartment over the gateway, now used as a masonic hall, formed the abbot’s court-room. At other times the place was used for the lodgement of pilgrims and similar purposes. The sign of the Four Swans, the only one that I have met with, is derived from the arms of Earl Harold, whose shield had emblazoned upon it a cross with four swans.

The Eleanor Cross, showing detail of carving. From “Picturesque Hertfordshire.” Drawn by Duncan Moul

Theobalds, formerly the favourite residence of King James I.

Theobalds.

With the Abbey, the Cross, and the Four Swans Inn we leave behind us, it may be said, associations with and monuments of mediÆval times, and enter upon the later, but no less stirring epoch of English history which is marked by the Tudor, Jacobean, and Commonwealth periods, by a visit to the historic seat of Theobalds, or Tibbles, as it is locally called. The entrance to the park is from the high road, close to Theobalds Grove Station on the Great Eastern Railway branch line to Cheshunt. As one saunters through the long leafy aisle, there comes to mind the reference to this famous seat and its locality in old Izaak Walton’s famous classic, the “Complete Angler,” wherein the angler, the hunter, and the falconer, each commends his recreation; Piscator avows his intention of going “this fine, fresh May morning,” as far as Ware, whereupon Venator says his purpose is to “drink my morning draught at the Thatched House, Hoddesdon,” and Anceps rejoins: “Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as Theobalds, and there leave you; for then I turn up to a friend’s house, who mews a hawk for me, which I now long to see.” The present house of Theobalds, which is the seat of Lady Meux, is modern, having been erected in 1768, and, though large, is not beautiful. A view of the house and gardens can be obtained by taking the footpath on the left, running along the bank of the New River, the stream being widened into a lake here, and creating a very pretty feature of the Park lands.

Temple Bar. In its new home, at the main entrance to Theobalds Park

The main entrance to the house is by the famous Temple Bar, which stands a little further along the drive from which the path has been taken. A more beautiful setting for Wren’s wonderful gateway it would scarcely be possible to conceive or create, and I know not another gateway entrance to a private park or domain throughout the country that is more beautiful than this. The nobility of its lines, the grandeur of the design, and the beauty of the stone are here all thrown into wonderful relief by the rich green of the foliage which forms the setting of the gate. One cannot help wondering what Dr. Johnson, or Sir Joshua Reynolds, or Charles Lamb, to all of whom the old gate that marked the western boundary of the city was familiar, would have said if they could have seen it transported to its present position. They were all ardent lovers of the town, and would certainly have lamented its loss from their Fleet Street. The Doctor would probably have said, “Sir! it is a vile outrage upon the City of London.” Yet I think their artistic perceptions would have compelled them to admit that its new home endowed it with a grandeur that it never before possessed.

Theobalds and its immediate vicinity is very rich in historic incidents. With it are associated the lives and deeds of Cardinal Wolsey, the great Lord Burleigh, Queen Elizabeth, James I., Charles I., the Cromwells, and others.

Theobalds formed one of the six manors into which was parcelled the parish of Cheshunt, which itself at the time of the Conquest formed a manor in the Honour of Richmond, conferred upon Earl Alan by his uncle, William the Conqueror. The origin of the name is unknown, but in 1441 we find the manor of Theobalds was granted by the Crown to the hospital of St. Anthony, in London. About the middle of the sixteenth century it was conferred upon William Cecil, afterwards Lord Burleigh, Secretary of State to Edward VI. and Elizabeth. In July, 1564, the queen paid her trusty counsellor a visit here, and was so pleased with her reception and the beauty of the place, that she expressed her intention of returning hither at a future date. Cecil accordingly demolished the old grange and erected a spacious and handsome mansion for her majesty’s reception.

A contemporary biographer of Cecil has pertinently observed, “He buylt three houses; one in London for necessity, another at Burghley, of computency for the mansion of his Barony, and another at Waltham for his younger sonne, which at the first he meant but for a little pile, as I have hard him saie, but after he came to enterteyne the Quene so often there he was inforced to enlarge it, rather for the Quene and her greate traine and to sette poore on worke, than for pompe or glory, for he ever said it wold be to big for the smalle living he cold leave his sonne.” The same author also says Cecil “greatlie delighted in making gardens, fountaines, and walkes, which at Theobalds were perfected most costly, bewtyfully and pleasauntly, while one might walk twoe myle in the walkes before he came to their ends.”

Norden has remarked of Cecil’s new house: “To speake of the state and beauty thereof at large as it deserveth for curious Buildings, delightfull walkes and pleasaunt conceits within and without and other Thinges very glorious and elegant to be seene, would challenge a great portion of this little treatise, and therefore leaste I should come short of that one commendation that it deserveth, I leave it as indeede it is, a princely seate.”

Vallens, in his “Tale of Two Swannes” (1590) also pays a graceful tribute to Cecil and old Theobalds in the following lines:

“Now see these Swannes, the new and worthy seate
Of famous Cecil, tresorer of the land,
Whose wisdome, counsell, skill of princes’ state
The world admires; then Swannes may do the same:
The house it selfe doth shewe the owner’s wit,
And may for beautie, state and every thing,
Compared be with most within the land.”

James I. and Theobalds.

Lord Burleigh was succeeded in 1598 by his second son, Robert, first Earl of Salisbury, who here entertained James I. for four days on his way from Scotland to London to take possession of the throne, as well as the Lords of the Council, who were here to do homage to the son of Mary, Queen of Scots. In July, 1606, James again visited the earl at Theobalds, together with the King of Denmark, and their majesties were entertained with great magnificence during a stay of five days. The account of the proceedings related by a contemporary chronicler furnishes us with an interesting if not very edifying glimpse into the ways and manners of Court life in the seventeenth century. Much of the period of their majesties’ stay at Theobalds appears to have been occupied by a series of masques and debauches. At one of the pageants the King of Denmark represented Solomon, and a lady of the Court, in the character of the Queen of Sheba, proceeded to perform her part by laying gifts at the monarch’s feet. She had, however, imbibed so freely of the fine wines supplied from the Cecil cellar that she was unable to retain her balance, and fell, sprawling, into the lap of the king. Rising from his magnificent throne, the latter attempted to dance with the “fallen” queen, but the royal legs being as unsteady as those of the lady, the twain cut a sorry sight, and his majesty had to be carried away ignominiously to his chamber. “Now did appear,” writes the chronicler, who would seem to have been one of the guests, “Faith, Hope, and Charity. Hope did essay to speak, but wine did render her endeavours so feeble that she withdrew. Faith was then all alone, for I am certain she was not joined by Good Works, and left the Court in a staggering condition. Charity came then to the king’s feet, and soon returned to Hope and Faith, who were both sick in the lower hall.”So delighted was King Jamie with Theobalds and the hunting afforded by its domain, as well as in the adjoining Enfield Chase and Waltham Forest, that he prevailed upon the noble owner to exchange it for Hatfield, and the latter has since that time (1608) remained the home of the Cecils. The king enlarged the park of Theobalds, which he enclosed with a wall ten miles in circumference. He passed nearly all his leisure here, and died at Theobalds on March 25, 1625.

Charles I. also received homage at Theobalds upon his succession to the throne, but he had not that affection for the place which his father displayed. He retired hither, however, at the end of 1641, or beginning of 1642, to escape the unpleasantness of State affairs, and in February of the latter year here received the solemn remonstrance of Parliament. Hence he set out a month later, with a body of adherents, to raise the Royal Standard at Nottingham. It is by some stated that the unfortunate king wrote a portion of the “Eikon Basilike” at Theobalds.

That strange passion for destruction which possessed Cromwell and the Parliamentarians moved these ignorant sectarians to destroy the handsome palace reared by Lord Burleigh, and enlarged and beautified by James I.; its rich contents were dispersed, and its beautiful gardens ruthlessly destroyed.

Charles II. bestowed the manor of Theobalds upon General Monk—for the consideration of £12,067 6s. 8d.—and created him Duke of Albemarle. It descended to the Duke of Montagu, and later to the Cromwell family, then with the estate of Cheshunt Park to the Russells, subsequently became the property of Sir George Prescott, and finally was purchased by the late Sir Henry Meux, Bart. In 1712, when Sir Thomas Abney lived at Theobalds, he persuaded Dr. Isaac Watts to retire hither. During his thirty-six years’ residence here the learned divine wrote his famous hymns and songs, and died in 1748 at the age of seventy-four.

Old Cheshunt village is a little less than a mile north of Theobalds by the road that turns up the hill, opposite Temple Bar, to Bury Green, thence leaving the cemetery on the left. A pleasant old-fashioned inn, where the magisterial business was dispensed for many years, and a small cluster of houses form the old village to-day, with Cheshunt College, a foundation by Selina Countess of Huntingdon, for the training of Nonconformist ministers, hard by, and the fine old parish church reposing in its ample “God’s Acre,” opposite. But in quite recent times the builder has been busy in this locality, and at the bottom of the village a good many houses of the suburban villa type have been erected. The most populous part of Cheshunt has grown up along either side of the high road, here known as Cheshunt Street, nearly half a mile distant, eastward, leaving the old village isolated, as it were. But it was here that stood the fine old mansions for which the parish was once famed, grouped around and about the church. Of these more presently. Meantime a walk may profitably be taken along Church Gate, whence proceeding between some handsome old sixteenth century houses, with overhanging fronts, one steps into a street or lane that wears a most charming air of antiquity. At the bottom is the old Free school, founded by Robert Dewhurst in 1640, the building forming an interesting example of the domestic Tudor-Jacobean transition style.

A strange Custom.

Cheshunt is the modernised form of the Roman Cestrehunt. A British encampment is said to have existed here, a little to the west of the ancient Ermine Street, upon the track of which the high road now runs. What may be the remains of this exist in a field lying on the west of the churchyard and close to the cemetery. It is also recorded that a bank or earthen wall extended in early times through this parish, which is believed to have been the boundary of the East Saxons. In connection with this bank a curious custom exists. By this, if a copyholder dies seised of land on the west, or above bank, the right of succession falls to the eldest son, but if it is below the bank then to the youngest son.

In the village at Cheshunt

Cheshunt parish is an extensive one, and its physical aspect wonderfully varied, with a richly wooded undulating surface. There are many elevated situations from 300 to 354 feet above sea-level, and from most of these beautiful views of the surrounding country are to be enjoyed. The district, too, abounds in charming walks, and field paths are numerous. Large areas are devoted to fruit culture, roses, horticultural nurseries, and market gardens. Quite a feature of the place are the extensive rose nurseries of Messrs. Paul and Son in the high road, and these are well worthy a visit by lovers of flowers, to whom they are at all times accessible.

It was to old Pengelly House, which stood in its spacious grounds (now built over), opposite Cheshunt College, that Richard Cromwell, the deposed Protector, retired after his return from the Continent in 1680. He spent his remaining days here as the guest of Sergeant Pengelly, afterwards Chief Baron of the Exchequer, in the name of Clarke.

Cheshunt Great House.

A little beyond the old village, on the road that runs to Goff’s Oak and Cheshunt Common—a beautiful breezy height—stands a structure that strikes one as odd in form and character. It is isolated and alone, occupying a slight elevation, and little conjecture is needed to recognise this as the remains of an old moated mansion. It is known as the Great House, and believed to have originally been the Palace of Waltham, of which ancient records speak, and later served as the seat of the lord of the manor of St. Andrews-le-Motte. The foundations of this structure are by some authorities considered to date back to the fifteenth century, and a well-known local antiquary asserts that it was built 1380–90, as the palace for Cardinal Henry Beaufort, second son of John of Gaunt. The original house was a quadrangular Gothic building, surrounded by a moat, of which traces are clearly discernible. A considerable portion of the structure was demolished in 1801. The Great House long formed a dower palace of the queens of England, and in 1519 was granted to Cardinal Wolsey.

Cheshunt Great House

Though it is difficult to be precise and certain about the history of this interesting old building, there can be no doubt about its being a very old foundation, and having formed part of a large and important domestic structure. The great hall, which is the chief feature of the remains, is a very noble apartment, and must belong to a period earlier than the Tudors. It is 27 feet long by 21 feet wide, with a height of 36 feet to the centre of the arched roof. This is supported by ribs of chestnut wrought in the Gothic style. The sides are wainscoted, and the floor is paved with black and white marble. On the walls hang numerous portraits of kings and queens, statesmen, and others, most of them attributed to great masters. All I should like to say about them is that as portraits many are interesting. There are also some examples of chain and other armour and various weapons of war, as well as some curious pieces of furniture, said to have belonged to the mighty Cardinal. Several other apartments are open to visitors, and in one is a quaint rocking-horse reported to have belonged to Charles I., who was, of course, frequently at Theobalds in the days of his childhood. Grim and tragic stories are told about the underground chambers of this old place.

Cheshunt Church.

The handsome old parish church of St. Mary’s, which is seen from the Great House, pleasantly and serenely ensconced amid rich arboreal surroundings, is reached by a path through the fields opposite. Though its foundation dates back to a period anterior to the Conquest, for the church then existing was presented to the canon of the priory of Fulgar, in Brittany, by Constance, daughter of William of Normandy, the present church is a building of the sixteenth century, in the early Perpendicular or Transition style. It was erected by Nicholas Dixon, Clerk of the Pipe Office and Baron of the Exchequer, who held the Rectory, temp. Henry VI. Like many another parish church this of Cheshunt has undergone numerous alterations and additions, ill-planned restorations and barbaric effacements, but the survival is a beautiful building, of noble proportions and of no slight architectural interest. Perhaps its most noticeable feature is the fine stone and flint embattled tower, with an octagon cupola at the south-east corner. This probably replaced the spire which originally graced the tower, and from a date on the lead beneath would seem to have been erected in 1811. From another angle formerly projected a cresset, very similar to that on Hardley Church, near Barnet. The precise use of these old beacon lights on churches seems not to be very clear, but they were probably used as signals of alarm in troublous times.

The Parish Church, Cheshunt

Few who enter this church by the handsome doorway at the base of the tower, the armorial ornamentation of which is worthy notice, will fail to admire the view which is afforded when standing beneath the noble western arch of the lower wall, by the handsome nave and chancel, lighted by a clerestory, and closed in by an open timber roof, the latter beautifully painted. There is a good deal to interest one within the church. There will be noticed a modern Rood screen across the chancel front, and originally there existed a very handsome screen of this character, access to which was gained by a small staircase on the southern side, which was clumsily demolished at the restoration in 1872. In the chancel pavement is a brass to Nicholas Dixon, the founder, whilst a Gothic altar tomb of Purbeck marble occupies a recess in the north wall. The latter is to the memory of Robert Dacres, of Cheshunt, Privy Councillor to Henry VIII. Other notable monuments are those of Sir Henry Atkins, physician to James I. and Charles, Daniel Dodson and Margaret Lady Whatton, whose virtues are thus recited:

“Fair as an Angel, virtuous as a saint,
Whose beauty and whose grace no art can paint,
Highly belov’d by all and so admir’d,
As much bewail’d when she from hence retir’d,
Her soul so pure from earth to Heaven soar’d,
There to enjoy the God she here enjoy’d,” etc.

Between the nave and chancel on either side is a curious ornamental opening pierced through the wall. What purpose these served it is hard to determine. In the tower chamber, which has a beautiful vaulted roof, is the ancient octagonal font of Purbeck marble, as well as the very old alms chest or poor man’s box, with three fine hasps and locks, and strongly bonded with iron. In the churchyard stand a large square tomb, the burial place of the Cromwell family for several generations.

The Cromwells held Cheshunt Park, which lies a little less than a mile north of the church, beyond Flamstead End. This pleasant little hamlet would seem by its name to furnish another link with Saxon times, for Flamstead in Anglo-Saxon would mean “place of refuge.”

The manor of Cheshunt Park originally belonged to the Crown, but was purchased by Sir William Cecil in 1570, and became merged in the manor of Theobalds. It was seized with other Crown lands by the Parliament in 1650, and then leased to William Groff. Thence it passed to the Cromwells and Russells. Mrs. Russell was the last person who bore at birth the name of Cromwell, through direct male descent. Her father, Oliver, great-grandson of Henry, son of the Protector, was very desirous of leaving his name to his son-in-law, and applied several times for the royal licence for Mr. Russell to assume it. But the king, George III., always refused, saying, “No! no! No more Oliver Cromwells!” There is a plan of the park made in connection with a survey in 1611, in the British Museum, and it is therein stated to be “in length just 3 myles and in circuit along the paile 8 myle lack 30 poles.”At the northern extremity of the parish, along the high road, lies the hamlet of Turnford, still a picturesque little spot, though now given over to the builder and market gardener. Scores of acres of glasshouses exist here. In early times, however, the famous nunnery of the Benedictines extended along the eastern side of the road here. At the Dissolution this, with other lands in the parish, fell into the possession of that “old land grabber,” as a Herts antiquary has dubbed Sir Anthony Denny. Nothing now remains of the nunnery.

Cheshunt Street contains a good many interesting examples of old domestic architecture. There is rather a curious structure here known locally as the Round House, which has been in the family of the present owner since the time of Elizabeth. It was built by a descendant of one of Elizabeth’s sea captains, who was engaged in the seven years’ war. He settled down here, and called it Effingham Place.

The heights of Cheshunt

The highlands of Cheshunt are all of a beautiful character, and the climate of these elevated situations is particularly healthful, the air being clear and bracing. To the north lie Hammond Street, Appleby Street, and the beautiful sylvan hamlet of Beaumont Manor; to the west is the pleasant old village of Goff’s Oak, with pretty Newgate Street beyond, and the noble domain of Wood Green Park adjacent. More to the north is the picturesque old hamlet of Cuffley, to the curative waters of whose well King James frequently repaired. From Cuffley one may enjoy a very fine view of the Lea Valley and the richly timbered undulations of Epping Forest. The little place is effectually cut off from the affairs of ordinary civilisation, and is as isolated as a hamlet in the heart of Warwickshire.

Goff’s Oak is a pretty little place, with many interesting features about it. Its numerous cottages—there is only one good-sized house—lie, irregularly disposed on either side of the road, often behind ample gardens beautiful with lilies and larkspur, rocket, wallflowers, hollyhocks, and other old-time flowers. It gains its name from a famous old oak tree, said to have been planted by one of William the Conqueror’s heroes, Sir Theodore Godfrey, to whom lands here had been assigned (hence Godfrey’s—Geoffrey’s Oak—Geoff’s—Goff’s Oak). The venerable tree, of which only the trunk now remains, has a girth of over twenty feet at three feet from the ground. It reminds one of the beautiful lines of Dryden:

“The Monarch Oak, the Patriarch of the Trees,
Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees;
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays,
Supreme in state; and in three more decays.”

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