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.
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.