At Waltham Abbey
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I cycled along the River Lea to Waltham Abbey. On my approach, even from the riverbank, I could see the majestic tower rising over the water meadows as the Abbey has done for the past thousand years, commanding the landscape and undiminished in visual authority.
Once you see it, you realise you are following in the footsteps of the innumerable credulous pilgrims who came here in hope of miraculous cures from the holy cross, which had reputedly relieved Harold Godwinson of a paralysis as a child before he became King Harold.
To the south of the Abbey church lies the market square, bordered with appealingly squint timber frame buildings punctuated by handsome eighteenth and nineteenth additions. Despite the proximity of the capital, the place still carries the air of an English market town.
Yet the great wonder is the Abbey itself, founded in the seventh century, built up by King Harold and destroyed by Henry VIII. Despite the ravages of time, the grandeur and scale of the Abbey is still evident in the precincts which have become a public park. Although the church that impresses today is less than half the size of what it was, it is enough to fire your imagination. An imposing stone gateway greets the visitor to the park where long, battered walls outline the former extent of the buildings. A tantalising fragment of twelfth century vaulting, which formerly served as the entrance to the cloisters, encourages the leap to conjure the cloisters themselves where now is merely an empty lawn. A walled garden filled with lavender and climbing roses draws you closest to the spirit of the place.
The outline of the former Abbey church is marked upon the grass and at the eastern end lies a surprise. A plain stone engraved with the words ‘Harold King of England Obit 1066,’ indicating this is where legend has it that he was laid to rest after the Battle of Hastings. I realised that maybe the remains of the man in the tapestry, killed by the arrow in the eye, lay beneath my feet. Coming upon his stone unexpectedly halted me in my tracks.
This was one of those startling moments when there is a possibility of history being real, something tangible, causing me to reflect upon the Norman Conquest. A thousand years ago, their power found its expression in the vast complex of buildings here, which were destroyed five hundred years ago as the expression of another power.
We too live in a time of dramatic transition, emerging from the shadow of the pandemic and accommodating to our country’s divorce from Europe. I cycled from Spitalfields to Waltham Abbey as a respite from the times, yet here I was confronting it in a mossy green churchyard. The equivocal consolation of the historical perspective is that it reminds us that empires rise and fall, but life goes on.
Effigy of King Harold
Harold cradles Waltham Abbey in his arm
The Lady Chapel
Victorian villa in the churchyard
The Welsh Harp
These vaults are all that is left of the twelfth century cloisters
Here lies Harold, the last Anglo Saxon King of England
Waltham Abbey
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A very good friend was married in the Abbey – his memorial service was there, as well ….
Sun Street has a remarkable stretch of houses dating back to the 1600’s or even earlier ( Though you might not realise it )
Don’t forget “King Harold Day” later this year on Sat 15th October & for laughs .. the world canoeing championship opening 17th September (!)
I love this post! Thank you.
Is there an Eleanor cross there?
Thank you for this visit, which helps to make up for the opportunities not taken when I lived in Stoke Newington, 1933-1952. Now too old and far away to visit, but not too old and insensitive to appreciate what I missed.
I can’t think of anything nicer than cycling up there on a sunny day. Hope you didn’t run down John Rogers on your way.
Every time I encounter a depiction of a person holding a structure, I am enthralled. This statue
of Harold cradling the Abbey is a perfect example. There is a touching/surprising reversal of scale,
but mostly I think it just provides a visual reminder of How We Love Our Homes. How our homes provoke a feeling of protection, warmth and gratitude.
A lovely quote from Mark Twain, about his deeply-loved, remarkable home in Hartford CT:
“It had a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals and solicitude and deep sympathies, it was OF us, and we were its confidence and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benediction.”
We have visited this unique home many times, and each time we expect the Twain family to come into the rooms; caught up in laughter, discussion, and mirth. I expect Twain himself to look over, catch our eye, and sweep his arm toward us. “Oh, ho — You’re here. Well, let’s sit and have a story or two.”
Thank you for taking us along to the Abbey. How I would love to open those wooden doors with the crests. Just lovely.
Funny old thing history, full of whispers. I read Harold had escaped the battle to become a hermit and died in Chester!
Thank you for the article.
Thank you for highlighting the history of Waltham Abbey and her history. I have passed the Abbey many times by car when travelling from Essex to Palmers Green. I regret not taking advantage of visiting the Abbey and Harold’s grave.
I enjoyed this article very much, but I thought your comment about “credulous” pilgrims was uncalled for. They believed deeply in what they were doing. Whether the relics were genuine or not is immaterial. They deserve our respect.
We recently visited Waltham Abbey for the second time – previously 2005. My mother was born there in 1911 to Samuel and Sarah Eagleston. She had an older brother Harold. The family lived in 3 Rue de St. Lawrence. In May, 1917 my grandfather Samuel died and is buried in the cemetery there. Because it was not easy for their widowed mother to raise the family alone, relatives in Australia in cited Sarah to bring the. Hold ten to Australia in 1922. Samuel has 5 grandchildren here in outer Brisbane, two to Harold, a girl and a boy and three girls to Frances. We were all told lovingly of Waltham Abbey from our earliest years and hold this in high esteem. They were members of the Baptist Church there and the children also attended the Sunday School at the Salvation Army in the afternoon as young ladies who were neighbours asked if they could come.
On our first visit there we visited the Abbey, as we did this time, enjoyed the music from the organ the first time as it was being played at that time, and as we did this time we visited the bookshop. The first time we bought a CD of music from the Abbey and it included a Christmas Carol which, I believe, was first sung in the Abbey. We had a Christian radio programme each Sunday where we then lived in Ballarat , Victoria, and each Christmas we shared that Carol and spoke about the Abbey as we did other times sharing favourite hymns. A favourite hymn writer of our grandfather was Frances Ridley Havergal, hence our mother’s name. Sadly the CD was lost at the studio. This CD was not available on this visit but I am wondering if someone can tell us the name of that Carol as I have forgotten.
When we visited this time we received a copy of the Waltham Abbey choir Remembrance CD as it was actually on Remembrance Day we were there. We arrived from London not long after the service had ended. The lady in the Bookshop, I think her name may have been Isabel, was very nice and helpful to us as we bought a few things to remind us of our visit. We did again visit our grandfather’s grave, nicely under a tree not far from the Highway. Thank you. We have loved hearing about your town and the Abbey from our earliest years – over 80 now. Heatger J. (Eagleston, Sands) Gray.