A great deal of very unreliable and really unveracious “history” has been written about the inn, the London Apprentice, said to have been a favourite haunt of highwaymen, among whom our ubiquitous old friend, Dick Turpin, of course figures; but we may disregard such tales. It was once, however, a favourite resort for water-parties from London.
The tower of the church is a really beautiful and sturdy pinnacled stone Gothic building, but the body of the church was rebuilt in 1705, from designs left, so it is said, by Sir Christopher Wren; and it is, within and without, typical of the style then prevalent: that well-known type of exterior of red brick, pierced with tall, factory-like windows, and an interior modelled after a “classic” type, with galleries, and painted and gilded more like a place of amusement than a place of worship.
A few much-worn brasses remain from an older building, notably one to Margaret Dely, a Sister of Sion during the brief revival of the Abbey under Queen Mary.
THE DOCK AT ISLEWORTH.
THE “LONDON APPRENTICE,” ISLEWORTH.
But the most interesting monument is one of ornate design, in marble, placed in the west entrance lobby, under the tower. This is partly to the memory of Mrs. Ann Tolson, and partly to Dr. Caleb Cotesworth, and narrates, in the course of a very long epitaph, a romantic story. Ann Tolson was the donor of the group of almshouses already mentioned, for six poor men and an equal number of poor women. She married, as the epitaph very minutely tells us, firstly Henry Sisson and then one John Tolson. When he died “she was reduced to Narrow and Confined Circumstances, and supported herself by keeping School for the Education of Young Ladies, for which She was well Qualified by a Natural Ingenuity. A strict and Regular Education, and mild and gentle Disposition. By the loss of Sight She became unfit for her Employment, and a proper object to receive that Charity, She was Sollicitous to Distribute.” In the midst of these misfortunes, Dr. Caleb Cotesworth, a connection of hers by marriage, died. As the epitaph, with meticulous particularity goes on to report, he “had By a long and Successful practice at London” amassed a fortune of “One Hundred and Fifty Thousand Pounds and upwards.” A part he distributed by his will among relatives, “and the residue, One Hundred and Twenty Thousand Pounds and upwards he gave to his Wife.