The PULPIT is composed of oak, divided into panels, and ornamented with carved foliage and fruit. There was formerly a massive sounding board to correspond with it, but which was necessarily taken away when the pulpit was judiciously placed in its present central position in the middle aisle.
Having noticed the chancel and nave, we will proceed to that part which is called the LAWRENCE CHAPEL, at the north side. This chapel is considered by many to be coeval with the first endowment of the church. It was built by the then Lord of the Manor, whose mansion stood near it, the site of which is now occupied by Lawrence Street, so called after the Lawrence family. The old manor house was pulled down by Henry VIII., who built another in Cheyne Walk, to which allusion will have to be frequently made. The Lawrence chapel was many years ago in the possession of Mr. Offley, who bequeathed it to Colonel Needham, of whom it was bought in the year 1789, with part of the east side of Lawrence Street, to which it is an appendage, by Mr. Lewer. It is still private property.
THOMAS LAWRENCE, Esq.—Against the north wall of this chapel is the monument of the father of Sir John Lawrence, on which are represented himself, his three sons, Elizabeth his wife, and six daughters, all kneeling. On the cushion on which Mrs. Lawrence kneels are two babes, wrapped up close to the chin, with their faces only visible. The cornice is supported by three fluted Corinthian columns. Underneath are the following lines:—
“The yeares wherein I lived were fifty-fower, October twenty-eight did end my life; Children five of eleven God left in store, Sole comfort of they’re mother and my wife. The world can say what I have been before, What I am now examples still are rife; Thus Thomas Lawrence spekes to tymes ensving That Death is sure, and Tyme is past reneving.”
SIR JOHN LAWRENCE, Bart.—On a large ornamented tablet of black marble, against the east wall, is an inscription to the memory of Sir John Lawrence, Bart., who died in 1638, aged 50. Attached to it are these quaint lines:—
“When bad men dye and turn to their last sleep, What stir the poets and engravers keep, By a feigned skill to pile them up a name, With terms of Good, and Just, out-lasting fame: Alas! poor men, such most have need of stone And epitaphs; the good, indeed, lack none, Their own true works enough do give of glory Unto their names, which will survive all story: Such was the man lies here, who doth partake Of verse and stone—but ’tis for fashions sake.”