There is also seen here Pope’s well-known epitaph on Mrs. Corbett, which won Dr. Johnson’s highest praise, though he takes the objection that her name is not mentioned in the lines themselves. It is well worth quoting:—
Here rests a woman, good without pretence,
Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense;
No conquest she but her own sense desired,
No arts essayed, but not to be admired.
Of this line the Doctor says with grim humour: “I once heard a lady of great beauty and excellence object that it contained an unnatural and incredible panegyric—of this let the ladies judge.”
Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Convinced that virtue only is our own:
So unaffected and so composed a mind,
So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refin’d;
Heaven as its purest gold, by tortures tried,
The saint sustained it, but the woman died.
Of a quaint sort is the following to a Westminster boy:—
Richard Nott, aged 11 years. His Schoolfellow Walter Thomas made his Epitaph.
Dear to his parents here doth lye,
A youth admired for Piety,
His years eleven, yet knew more
Of God than many of threescore.
Another monument is that of Mrs. Barnett, who died in 1674, leaving £40 yearly for poor widows. A large oatmeal pudding is, or used to be, given at the “Feast,” to commemorate that this “worthy lady” sold oatmeal cakes at the church doors. Skelton, the poet, is interred here: also Thomas Churchyard, Hollar, the famous engraver, and Colonel Blood of regalia memory. There can be read here the entry of Milton’s marriage with Mrs. Catherine Woodcocke, and of Edmund Waller to Ann Bankes. There is also recorded the baptism of Thomas Betterton, the actor, in 1635. Titus Oates, Jeffreys, and Bishop Burnet’s children were baptized here. These are interesting associations.
But the glory of the whole is the wonderful window over the Communion-table, with its fine depth of blue, a treat for the eye, and satiating it with colour. This impoverishes, as it were, all the modern performances near it. A great authority on painted glass, Mr. Winston, declares it to be “the most beautiful work in this respect, of harmonious colouring,” he was acquainted with. The subject is the Crucifixion. It is divided into five compartments, three of which are filled by pictures of our Saviour and the two thieves. Below them are the holy women, a crowd of Roman soldiers, etc.; over the good thief a tiny angel is seen, bearing off his soul to Paradise, while a little demon has the impenitent one on his back. On one side is the portrait of a young king at his prayers, arrayed in crown and mantle, with the armed St. George overhead; on the other side a lady, also kneeling, over whom watches St. Catherine. This window had quite a strange course of adventures. According to one account, it was a present to King Henry VII. from the Dutch States-General, and was intended for his beautiful chapel. Another version runs that it was a present from the King and Queen of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella. It took five years to make, and by that time King Henry VIII. had succeeded. Whether his religious views had altogether changed, or he had other reasons, the window was not set up, and he made it a present to the abbey at Waltham. On the Dissolution it was bought by General Monk, who brought it down to New Hall, where it was well protected during the Civil War. From New Hall it passed to a Mr. John Olmius, who sold the window to Mr. Conyers, of Copt Hall, where it was set up; and there it seemed likely to remain. Unluckily it entered into the minds of the Churchwardens’ Committee of St. Margaret’s, in 1758, to have a thorough restoration of their old church. Dreadful windows, the same that were to be seen about twenty years ago, were put in: a common “household parapet,” as it was called, was added, with the homely porch. But now they bethought themselves of Mr. Conyers’s beautiful window, and bought it for 400 guineas. Thereupon the Chapter, offended by its “Popish” character, commenced a lawsuit to have the window removed; but the action was decided against them. There is a loving cup which celebrates this victory. Thus this rich and glowing feast of colour was retained. Below it there is a curious oaken reredos, elaborately carved into the shape of a large picture—the Supper at Emmaus—the work of a Soho artist some 120 years ago. The pulpit is a rather fantastic thing, coloured like a sugar-plum. There is an antique bench in the porch, used at the distribution of the weekly dole of sixpences and bread to a number of poor widows.
Archdeacon Farrar, the Rector, takes jealous care of St. Margaret’s, and has excited public interest in the church by his improvements and reforms. He has opened it regularly for some hours in the day; numbers are seen gazing in astonishment at the unexpected monuments and curios.