Sir Christopher Wren Part 7

One invention which he was at the time proud of was that of a--

'diplographic instrument for writing with two pens,' whose uses he thus describes; 'by the help of this instrument, every ordinary penman may at all times be suddenly fitted to write two several copies of any deeds and evidences, from the shortest to the longest length of lines, in the very same compa.s.s of time, and with as much ease and beauty, without any dividing or ruling; as, without the help of the instrument, he could have despatched but one.'

So successful was this instrument, that he obtained a patent for it for seventeen years. In the same year an exact duplicate of this invention was brought from France, and another patent taken out for the same number of years, by Mr. William Petty,[56] who claimed to be the inventor.

Wren was indignant at the notion that he had copied another person's idea, and gives good reasons for his belief that his own instrument had been described to Petty by a friend of his. Three years later Wren wrote of it as 'an obvious Thing, a cast-off Toy;' ending, 'Indeed though I care not for having a Successor in Invention, yet it behoves me to vindicate myself from the Aspersion of having a Predecessor.'

Another invention Wren describes as a 'weather clock.' It consisted of a clock affixed to a weather c.o.c.k that moved a rundle covered with paper, upon which the clock moved a black-lead pencil, so that the observer, by the traces of the pencil on the paper, might certainly conclude what winds had blown in his absence for twelve hours' s.p.a.ce. The 'Parentalia'

contains a careful drawing in pen and sepia of this invention elaborately worked out and remarkable for the truth and finish of the drawing. Some of these designs, and an instrument for sowing corn, nearly identical with a modern 'drill,' he dedicated in a quaintly formal letter to his father's friend, the Prince Palatine. He appeared before the Prince in another character, due probably to his Westminster training. A play was performed (about 1652) at Oxford before the Prince, Dr. Seth Ward,[57] and several others, ent.i.tled 'Hey for Honesty, down with Knavery,' translated by Thomas Randolph from the Plutus of Aristophanes, in which Christopher sustained the part of Neanias.[58] It is provoking to have this bare record merely, and no clue as to the success or failure of any part of the performance, especially where the young actor was concerned.

To about the same date belongs a Latin letter written by Christopher to his father, signed 'Christophorus Regulus,' describing in glowing terms a visit paid in the spring to a friend's house. Some pretty touches give 'the lofty woods with their clamorous republic of rooks, the great fountains, the placid pools--without, you might say a terrestrial paradise, but within, heaven itself.' It may have been, though there is nothing in its favour but conjecture, that this was Bletchingdon House, and that among 'the virgins singing holy psalms,' whom he mentions, was his future bride Faith, (or as she spelt it, 'ffaith') Coghill. The letter says much, as does all that pa.s.sed between them, for the warm affection existing between father and son, and the sincerely religious tone of Christopher's mind.

[_BATTLE OF WORCESTER._]

The desperate efforts of the Royalists shortly after this period to overthrow Cromwell's tyranny and to put Charles II. on the throne, received a cruel check in the disastrous battle of Worcester (1651), Cromwell's 'crowning mercy.' This crushed the hopes of the Royalists and obliged them to turn their every effort and thought to effecting the escape of their prince. He must have pa.s.sed very near Knoyle Hill, when he crossed Salisbury Plain and met at Stonehenge the friends who at last succeeded in conveying him to the coast. Knoyle Hill had its own fugitive to shelter.

Aubrey, the Wiltshire Antiquary, gives the account of a vivid dream which Christopher Wren had, when staying, in the autumn of 1651, with Dean Wren at Knoyle. He

'dreamed he saw a fight in a great market-place, which he knew not, where some were flying and others pursuing; and among those who fled, he saw a kinsman of his, who went into Scotland with the King's army. They heard in the country that the King was come into England, but whereabouts he was they could not tell. The next night came his kinsman to Knoyle Hill, and brought with him the disastrous news of Charles II.'s defeat at Worcester.'[59]

It seems likely that this 'kinsman' was Bishop Wren's son Matthew, who afterwards went to the Hague. There also, when his escape had been with great difficulty contrived, went King Charles, as his brother-in-law, the Prince of Orange, was his steady friend. In the hope of utterly putting down the Cavaliers, the greatest severity was shown at this time to all who had helped the King, and even to those who merely boasted of their good will towards him. Among those who suffered was Inigo Jones, who had been architect to James I. and to Charles I., had been steadily loyal to the Stuarts, and was therefore an object of suspicion. He lived to see what was thought the utter downfall of the monarchy, and following upon this the desecration and ruin of the finest churches in England. S. Paul's, on which he had spent much labour and skill, was, as being connected with Archbishop Laud, an object of special hatred to the Puritans. It suffered every possible injury. The fine portico designed by Inigo Jones was filled with stalls, blocked up by booths, and used as a market-place. The year after the battle of Worcester, Inigo Jones died, poor and lonely, in a lodging close to the defaced cathedral. He and Christopher Wren must probably have met. Wren had a sincere admiration for his predecessor's skill, and spoke of the S. Paul's portico as 'an exquisite piece in itself.'

[_MAKING HIMSELF._]

In the autumn of 1653, Wren, then just twenty-one, was elected to a fellowship at All Souls, and happy in the comparative tranquillity of Oxford, pursued the various studies which he loved. All this time he was 'making himself,' as was said of Sir Walter Scott in his childhood on the Scotch hills, though perhaps at the time no one could have guessed the particular manner in which he would distinguish himself.

In the following summer he made acquaintance with John Evelyn, who had come up to Oxford to hear the 'Philosophy Act.' Evelyn mentioned that after a dinner at All Souls he 'visited that miracle of a youth Mr.

Christopher Wren, nephew to the Bishop of Ely.'[60]

'A day or two later Evelyn dined with 'that most obliging and universally curious Dr. Wilkins at Wadham College, who showed him his "transparent apiaries, built like castles, and so ordered one upon another as one might take the honey without hurting the bees,"

his "hollow statue, which gave a voice and uttered words, by a long, concealed pipe that went to its mouth, whilst one speaks through it at good distance;" and his gallery filled with mathematical and other curiosities; a "thermometer," still a curiosity, though fifty-two years had elapsed since Galileo invented the first; a "way-wiser," which, when placed in a coach, exactly measured the miles it travelled, and showed them by an index; "a monstrous magnet," and many other inventions, most of them of his owne and that prodigious young scholar, Mr. Christopher Wren, who presented me with a piece of white marble which he had stained with a lively red very deepe, as beautiful as if it had been natural.'

The acquaintance thus made with Christopher Wren ripened into a friendship lasting until Evelyn's death in 1706.

Dr. Wilkins was also of Evelyn's friends, though he was very submissive to Cromwell.[61] It is curious to contrast two accounts which occur in the same page of Evelyn's diary.

'_December 25, 1655._ There was no more notice taken of Christmas Day in churches. I went to London, where Dr. Wild preached the funeral sermon of Preaching, this being the last day, after which Cromwell's proclamation was to take place, that none of the Church of England should dare either to preach or administer Sacraments, teach schoole etc. on paine of imprisonment or exile. So this was the mournfullest day that in my life I had seene, or the Church of England herselfe since the Reformation; to the greate rejoicing of both Papist and Presbyter. So pathetic was his discourse (on 2 Cor.

xiii. 9) that it drew many teares from the auditory. Myself, wife, and some of our family received the Communion; G.o.d make me thankfull that hath hitherto provided for us the food of our soules as well as bodies! The Lord Jesus pity our distressed Church, and bring back the captivity of Sion!

'_February 10, 1656._ I heard Dr. Wilkins preach before the Lord Mayor in S. Paul's, shewing how obedience was preferable to sacrifice. He was a most obliging person, who had married the Protector's sister, and tooke greate paines to preserve the Universities from the ignorant sacrilegious commanders and souldiers, who would faine have demolished all places and persons that pretended to learning.'

[_GERM OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY._]

Dr. Wilkins appears, like too many of that time, to have regarded the Church as utterly overthrown, and probably believed honestly in his peculiar interpretation of the text upon which he preached. Much credit is however due to him for the idea of the Oxford meetings, and for the hospitality which he showed. These meetings were the germ of the Royal Society, and to them Dr. Thomas Sprat (afterwards Bishop of Rochester), a great friend of Christopher Wren's, bears testimony:--

'Wadham College,'[62] he says, 'was then the place of resort for virtuous and learned men. Their first purpose was no more than only the satisfaction of breathing a freer air, and of conversing in quiet, one with another, without being engaged in the pa.s.sions and madness of that dismal age. And from the inst.i.tution of that a.s.sembly it had been enough if no other advantage had come but this; that by these means there was a race of young men provided against the next age, whose minds receiving from them their first impressions of sober and generous knowledge, were invincibly armed against all the enchantments of enthusiasm.... It was in good measure by the influence which these gentlemen had over the rest, that the university itself, or at least any part of its discipline and order, was saved from ruin.... Nor indeed could it be otherwise, for such spiritual frenzies, which did then bear rule, can never stand long before a clear and deep skill in nature. It is almost impossible, that they who converse much with the subtilty of things, should be deluded by such thick deceits. There is but one better charm in the world than real philosophy, to allay the impulses of the false spirit, and that is the blessed Presence and a.s.sistance of the True.'

In 1656, on the 29th of May, Dean Wren died. Sorrow and anxiety, the desolation of the Church, the apparent ruin of the monarchy, had worn out his gentle spirit; and probably little thinking how great a change was approaching to free the country, he pa.s.sed away, aged 69, at the house of his son-in-law, Mr. Holder, and was buried in the chancel of Bletchingdon Church.[63] When we look back to the years of the Rebellion, their darkness is lightened for us by the knowledge that the Restoration came at last, and it is difficult to realise fully how the times appeared to those who actually lived in them, to whom the years brought only fresh losses and sorrows, and the sickness of hope deferred.

Knowing how, on the 29th of May, but four years later, all England was welcoming back the King to 'enjoy his own again,' one can hardly forbear wishing that Dean Wren might have been spared to see that day; yet those who loved him best cannot have grudged him the fulness of that peace which all his life he had desired, and which he had invoked upon his first home. Christopher was very warmly attached to his father, as all his letters show, and must have grieved greatly for his death.

[_ASTRONOMY PROFESSORSHIP._]

Soon after this he was summoned to London. The Gresham professor of astronomy, Mr. Laurence Rooke, retired in 1657, and the chair was offered to Wren. He was but twenty-four and doubted whether he should accept such a post while so young, and he clung to Oxford and his studies there.

The friends whom he consulted advised him differently; accordingly he came up to London and delivered his opening address to a considerable audience. It was in Latin, and after a brief apology for his youth pa.s.sed into a sketch of the history of astronomy. He dwells on the great riches of the science, how it is the handmaid of theology, the queen of sciences, speaks of the vast discoveries made by its means, touches upon Copernicus, whose mind first grasped the idea that the earth moved round the sun, then upon Kepler and upon Galileo, and the storms that had arisen, when in 1632 he had demonstrated that truth at which Copernicus had guessed; he praises highly Galileo's invention of the telescope, pays a tribute to the great men who had lectured at Gresham on these subjects, and especially to his own predecessor, Rooke, and winds up with an eloquent description of London as a Pandora of cities to whom each of the choir of planets gave a peculiar blessing, on whom the sun shines benignly, who possesses more inhabitants than any city in the world, a healthy air, a fertile soil stretching far around her, beautiful buildings springing as of themselves from the earth, and, lastly, is blessed by the moon, 'the governess of floods,' who alluring the seas thus far inland by means of the beloved Thames, makes her the city which nourishes the best seamen of the world. The rough draft of this address, written by Christopher in a bold hand with a few changes and corrections, is preserved in the 'Parentalia.'

This professorship obliged him to come up to London and give a course of lectures every Wednesday in term time at Gresham College. None of these lectures have been preserved, and it seems from a hint in one of Dr.

Sprat's letters, that Wren was in the habit of lecturing from rough notes merely, and used no pains to keep any record of them.

['_HE MAY COME OUT AN HE WILL._']

At this time he made acquaintance with Richard Claypole, who was married to Elizabeth, Cromwell's favourite daughter; both she and her sister, Lady Falconbridge, were faithful members of the persecuted Church of England. Dr. Hewet still read the Prayer Book services in S.

Gregory's Church, which adjoined S. Paul's, and there the two sisters resorted, there Dr. Hewet secretly married Mary Cromwell to Lord Falconbridge, as neither would be satisfied with the ceremony performed by an independent preacher. Cromwell's daughters used all their influence with their father on the side of mercy, but when the excellent Dr. Hewet fell under his displeasure they pleaded in vain for his life.[64] Mr. Claypole professed a fondness for mathematical science and frequently invited Christopher Wren to his house. On one of these occasions when Wren was dining there, Cromwell himself entered, and, as was his custom in his own family, sat down to table without speech or ceremony. After a while he fixed his eyes on Christopher and said, 'Your uncle has been long confined in the Tower.' 'He has so, sir,' said Wren; 'but he bears his afflictions with great patience and resignation.' 'He may come out an he will,' was Cromwell's unexpected reply. 'Will your Highness permit me to take him this from your own mouth?' said Wren, hardly able to believe his ears. 'Yes, you may,' said Cromwell briefly.

At the earliest possible moment Christopher hurried to the Tower to communicate to his uncle the tidings that the long years of his imprisonment were over. When he had poured out his news the Bishop replied warmly that it was not the first time he had received the like intimation from that miscreant, but he disdained the terms proposed for his enlargement, which were a mean acknowledgment of his favour and an abject submission to his detestable tyranny; that he was determined to tarry the Lord's leisure, and owe his deliverance, which was not far off, to Him only. Such an answer must have been startling enough to Christopher, and may have opened his eyes to the causes of Cromwell's seeming leniency. He left the brave old man to await the deliverance which the keen sight of faith showed him as drawing near, and returned to his own work.

The death of Mrs. Claypole in the following summer must have checked an intimacy upon which Bishop Wren looked with little favour. She died of a terrible illness, and in the paroxysms of her pain bitterly reproached Cromwell for the innocent blood that he had shed, and particularly for that of Dr. Hewet.

At about this period some experiments were made by Wren's philosophical friends wherein he took a princ.i.p.al part, and to which the barometer, now in common use, is mainly due. The first instrument of the kind was invented by Torricelli, the pupil of Galileo, who used it in order to ascertain the pressure of the air on fluids, the supposed cause of which pressure was the pa.s.sing by of the body of the moon. Pascal, in those earlier days when his great genius employed itself on natural philosophy, made several experiments at Rouen, in 1646, with a friend, M. Pet.i.t, using 'Torricelli's tube,' as it was called. Similar trials were afterwards made by M. Perier, his brother-in-law, among the mountains of Auvergne. They then discovered that the rising and falling of the mercury was due not to the moon, but to the differences in the specific gravity of the atmosphere. Wren's experiments led him to the same conclusion, and at a later period he and Robert Boyle continued them until they produced the barometer, though it was not used commonly as a weather-gla.s.s until a much later date. Pascal did not pursue his discovery, but was satisfied with having proved the point for which he was contending.

[_THE CYCLOID._]

Though Wren and Pascal never met, some communication pa.s.sed between them. Pascal, who was Wren's senior by eleven years, propounded a problem, under the name of Jean de Monfert, to the mathematicians of England, adding a challenge to them to solve it by a given day.

Christopher sent a solution, and in his turn propounded a problem which seems never to have been answered. Pascal is said to have considered Wren's solution very carefully, but the promised prize of twenty pistoles was withheld by some trickery. Besides this, Wren wrote four mathematical tracts on the cycloid, and sent them to Dr. J. Wallis, who was publishing a book on mathematics. He corresponded with Pascal,[65]

who was writing on the cycloid by the name of _la Roulette_, the problem being 'to determine the curve made in the air by the nail of a coach wheel from the moment it rises from the ground, till the moment when the continual rolling of the wheel brings it back to the ground, after a complete turn, supposing the wheel a perfect circle and the ground perfectly level.'

[_CROMWELL'S FUNERAL._]

Wren was engaged also in a series of observations on the planet Saturn.

These pursuits were, however, interrupted by an event that convulsed all England. On September 3, 1658, during a fearful storm which swept over London, Oliver Cromwell died. Hume[66] gives a terrible account of the state of constant suspicion and fear of a.s.sa.s.sination in which Cromwell pa.s.sed the last year of his life; the secret armour which he wore, his constant guard of soldiers wherever he moved, his fears on a journey, his habit of never returning the way he had come, nor by the direct road, seldom sleeping above three nights together in the same chamber, or in any he did not choose himself, or without sentinels. His body lay in state for a considerable time. The funeral, on October 22, Evelyn calls 'superb.' He says:--

'I saw the Protector carried from Somerset House on a velvet bed of state drawn by six black horses, houss'd with the same; the pall held up by his new lords; Oliver lying in effigie in royal robes, crown'd with a crown, sceptre, and globe like a king ... a knight of honour armed _cap-a-pie_, and, after all, his guard, soldiers, and innumerable mourners. In this equipage they proceeded to Westminster; but it was the joyfullest funeral I ever saw, for there were none that cried but dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets as they went.'

Under the feeble rule of Richard Cromwell at first and then under the multiform tyranny of the rea.s.sembled 'Long Parliament,' every kind of disorder and oppression had free course. Monk grievously disappointed the Royalist hopes by proclaiming Richard Cromwell. The day of deliverance appeared more than ever distant.

[_LETTERS FROM LONDON._]

The Gresham Professors were all driven out of the college except Dr.

G.o.ddard, Cromwell's physician, and the place was garrisoned by soldiers, who did it great damage. Matthew Wren made an attempt two days after Cromwell's funeral to enter the college, and sent a curious account to Christopher, who had returned to All Souls at Oxford. He writes:

'Dear Cousin,--Yesterday being the first of the term, I resolved to see whether Dr. Horton[67] entertained the new auditory at Gresham with any lecture, for I took it for granted that if his divinity could be spared your mathematics would not be expected. But at the gate I was stopped by a man with a gun, who told me there was no admission upon that account, as the college was reformed into a garrison. Then changing my pretension, I scarce got permission to go in to Dr. G.o.ddard, who gave me a.s.surance enough that none of your colleagues intend to appear this term unless the soldiers be removed, of which there is no probability. Upon these premises it is the opinion of all your friends that you may save that journey hither, unless some other occasion calls you; and for these I expect you will make me your agent, if they be such as I am capable of despatching.

'But it will not perhaps be amiss to take from hence the occasion of a short and civil letter to the Committee, signifying that you hope you have not deceived their expectations in choosing you, and that you are ready to attend your duty but for this public interruption and exclusion from your chamber; or what else you will that looks towards this.

'I know no more domestic news than what everybody talks of.

Yesterday I was in Westminster Hall, and saw only Keudigate and Windham in the two courts, and Wild and Parker in the Exchequer. In the Chancery none at all; Bradshaw keeps the seal as if it were to be carried before him in the other world, whither he is going. Glyn and Fountain pleaded at the bar. They talk much of the mediation of the two Crowns, and proceed so far as to name Marshall Clerambault for the Emba.s.sador who is to come hither from France. My service to all friends. Dear Cousin, your most humble servant,

'M. W.