Whitehall Palace got little further than Webb’s old designs, nor did
that at Greenwich go beyond the one block called after the king. He
was preoccupied with matters of more personal interest, and what money
he had for his own purposes was spent in directions other than that
of architecture. Nevertheless incidental to the kingly rôle was the
patronage of the arts, and when the necessity arose he bestowed his
attention upon them and upon those, who were engaged in their pursuit.
It was in this way that Wren was brought to his notice, and thereby
obtained that official position which led to the development of his
extraordinary powers. That Charles had no special acquaintance with
architecture nor any consuming love for it, is sufficiently proved by
his sanction of that design of Wren’s for St Paul’s Cathedral known
as the “warrant” design, and by the spasmodic way in which he sought
to house himself in regal fashion; for another abortive attempt at a
palace was made in 1683, this time at Winchester and with the help of
Wren.
Wren is even better known to the public as an architect than Inigo
Jones, largely owing to the fact that he left behind him many more
buildings which can be seen to-day than did his predecessor. But the
admiration he has received, whether founded on knowledge or not, is no
more than his due, for he was a truly remarkable man. He had achieved
a European reputation as a man of science before he was thirty, and
although, when he became officially connected with building for the
first time, he had apparently received no practical training in
architecture, he soon made up his deficiencies on the scaffold itself,
amid the ring of the trowel and the thud of the hammer.
He came of good and cultured stock. His father, Dr. Christopher Wren,
was Dean of Windsor; his uncle, Matthew, was Bishop of Ely. His father
was a man of considerable attainments in literature and science, and
had a superficial knowledge of architecture. Christopher, who was born
in 1632, was his only son, and received a good education. His natural
abilities enabled him to profit by his opportunities to such a degree
that at the age of thirteen he invented a new astronomical instrument
and a pneumatic engine, both of which he introduced to his father in
elegant Latin, the one in verse, the other in prose. A year later he
was entered as a gentleman-commoner at Wadham College, Oxford, where he
continued to distinguish himself. It would be tedious to recount his
juvenile essays in astronomy, mathematics, gnomonics, and Latin, but so
great a reputation did he achieve that when Evelyn (who took a genuine
interest in anything remarkable) went to Oxford in 1654, he made a
point of going to see “that miracle of a youth, Mr. Christopher Wren,
nephew of the Bishop of Ely.”
The youth was then twenty-two, and was already a Master of Arts and
a Fellow of All Souls; three years later he was chosen Professor of
Astronomy at Gresham College in London, and subsequently, in 1661,
Savilian professor of the same subject in the University of Oxford.
In the same year he was made D.C.L. by both Oxford and Cambridge.
During these years he was one of the most active of those “virtuous and
learned men of philosophical minds” who, along with Dr. Wilkins, Warden
of Wadham, laid the foundations of the Royal Society. A whole page of
the “Parentalia”--memoirs written by his son, and the chief source
of information concerning his life--is occupied with a catalogue of
the New Theories, Inventions, Experiments, and Mechanic Improvements
exhibited by Mr. Wren at the meetings in connection with the great
movement. One or two examples will serve to show the wide range of his
investigations: a weather clock; an artificial eye, with the humours
truly and dioptically made; several ways of graving and etching; divers
improvements in the art of husbandry; divers new musical instruments;
easier ways of whale-fishing; ways to perfect coaches for ease. Indeed
there seems to have been nothing in the heavens above, or the earth
beneath, or the waters under the earth, about which he did not know
something.
These things may be regarded as the by-products of a great imagination,
an imagination which made him a skilled astronomer and a profound
mathematician. He had an extraordinary aptitude for scientific
research, and he was the first who experimented in the infusion of
foreign liquid into the blood of animals, a process which, modified to
the transfusion of blood from one person to another, has had remarkable
results in medicine. He also established, by experiment, before the
Royal Society in 1668, the Third Law of Motion; and no doubt his study
of the laws of motion subsequently stood him in good stead in his
daring feats of architectural construction.
The remarkable thing about these studies and experiments is that, amid
all their variety, not a word is said about architecture. He was a fair
draughtsman, but he was primarily a man of science and a virtuoso,
in other words, a man accomplished in the arts and sciences, but who
had no need to bring his knowledge to any practical test involving
responsibility. He was, however, soon to become more than a virtuoso,
for in the year 1661 he was appointed deputy surveyor of his majesty’s
works and buildings under Sir John Denham, and, after the latter’s
death in 1668, he succeeded him in the office to the exclusion of the
more experienced Webb.
Wren’s early efforts in architecture show, as might be expected,
considerable immaturity. One of his first was the Sheldonian Theatre
at Oxford, on which he was engaged between 1663 and 1668. It is
interesting as the work of a man young in design, but it cannot be
regarded as a masterpiece; its shape is ungraceful, and its detail
crude. One of its principal claims to attention was its roof, which
covered (with a flat ceiling) what was then considered a very wide
span, namely, 70 ft. Here Wren’s scientific training must have helped
him; he was also probably helped by his carpenter, one R. Frogley. The
roof itself has been renewed, but drawings of it were published by Dr
Plot in his “Natural History of Oxfordshire,” and were reproduced in
“Parentalia.” Its most remarkable feature was the long tie-beam of the
principals, which being too long for one piece of timber, was made up
of three pieces ingeniously jointed, or “scarfed,” together. There are
still tie-beams to the roof, but they are hidden in the thickness of
the attic floor, and it is impossible to say whether they are Wren’s
or not. But as the disposition of all the visible timbers is quite
different from those shown by Plot, the inference is that there is
nothing left of Wren’s ingenious roof. With the old roof went Wren’s
ugly dormers as well as his turret, which was replaced by that which
exists to-day.
The other work at Oxford, attributed to Wren, rests its claims,
except in the case of the Tom Tower of Christ Church, on little or
no evidence. Even in the case of Trinity College, where letters show
him to have been consulted, he appears to have done nothing beyond
sending, in 1664, to his friend, Dr. Bathurst, the president, a letter
with alternative plans and an elevation; and in criticising, in 1692,
a design for the chapel. There is no evidence that he actually carried
out any work here in the formal capacity of architect. About so notable
a feature of Oxford as the Tom Tower it would be rash to say anything
in disparagement. But this much may perhaps be said without offence.
It is at least doubtful whether the designer of the lower part, which
is the original Gothic work, would have been satisfied with Wren’s
completion. The scale is different, the detail is different; the whole
conception is out of harmony with Gothic ideas. Yet it is still less
allied to anything classic; the fact is that Wren was working in a
style which he did not understand, and which he frankly disliked. We
get much nearer to the heart of the man by studying another aspect
of his work at Oxford, his drawings preserved in the library at All
Souls. There are four large volumes of them, comprising designs for
various works, including alterations to one or two large houses; but
the most interesting are those connected with St Paul’s Cathedral. In
these volumes can be seen his weakness and his strength, and, taken in
conjunction with other of his drawings preserved at St Paul’s, they
show how he felt his way in architectural design. They also indicate
that the old system still survived under which the architect relied in
great measure upon his subordinates for the detail of his work; at the
same time they prove that Wren worked out his general conceptions much
more thoroughly than such men as John Thorpe and Smithson had done a
century earlier.
[Illustration: FIG. 97.--Model of Wren’s first Design for St
Paul’s Cathedral.]
The history of the reparation and rebuilding of St Paul’s is too long
and intricate to be set out in detail in this place, apart from the
fact that it is outside the category of domestic architecture; but
it stands for so much in Wren’s life that a few words about it may,
perhaps, be allowed.
During the years following the restoration of Charles II. much
consideration had been given to the old cathedral, which was in a
neglected and ruinous condition. The commissioners, of whom Wren was
one, were divided in opinion as to the course to be pursued; some were
for preserving it, others for rebuilding. Inigo Jones had already put
a new classic west front to the Gothic building; it was held to be
one of the finest pieces of architecture of modern times. Wren’s idea
was to continue the classic casing and to replace the lofty spire by
a classic dome. Some of the drawings at All Souls embody this idea,
which fortunately was never carried out. Then came the great fire in
1666, and the problem was simplified, for the fire had left but little
to deal with, and it was decided to rebuild.
The fire wrought a great change in Wren: he was no longer the
professor, the virtuoso, but the architect; for to him fell the duty
of rebuilding not only the cathedral, but the numerous city churches
which had been destroyed. It is fortunate that old St Paul’s was so
completely shattered as to compel its demolition, for although the
force necessary to remove the ruins was such as would have elicited
vigorous protests in the present day (gunpowder had to be employed,
to the terror of adjacent occupants), yet it resulted in providing
Wren with a vacant site whereon he could place a new building, instead
of attempting either a mixture of Gothic and classic such as he had
formerly contemplated, or his own version of Gothic which would have
been even more unpalatable.
The new St Paul’s is one of the finest and most impressive buildings
of its kind in Europe; its dome is unrivalled for purity of outline
and aptness of composition. How did a man, who had no practical
acquaintance with architecture until he was thirty years old, conceive
such a masterpiece within a few years from that time? Probably nobody
but Wren could have done it: he had an extraordinary aptitude for
mastering any subject to which he turned his attention. But even he did
not produce this great result at one stroke; he felt his way through
many attempts. There were two complete preliminary designs, neither
of which had much in common with the other or with the building as
erected, beyond the fact that the dominating feature was to be a dome.
The first of these is known as Wren’s favourite design, the other as
the “warrant” design.
The first was worked out with much care and completeness, and a large
model of it was made, which is now preserved in one of the towers of
the cathedral (Fig. 97). The plan, however, was so great a departure
from the type sanctioned by tradition, that it was rejected by the king
and his advisers. Wren thereupon produced the “warrant” design, one
of the most extraordinary ever made by a serious man, and one of the
worst to which a great architect ever set his name. This is a mystery
to which no satisfactory solution has yet been found. That a man with
the capacity of producing St Paul’s as we see it, should have produced
the “warrant” design, and seriously submitted it for acceptance, is
astonishing; but apparently Wren knew his clients, for it was approved
and ordered to be carried out under the warrant of the king, dated the
14th May 1675, wherein it is described as “very artificial, proper, and
useful.” The slight change which time has introduced into the meaning
of the first of these adjectives lends, for modern ears, a spice of
humour to the description.
[Illustration: FIG. 98.--GREENWICH PALACE, FROM THE RIVER.]
Fortunately, nothing more was heard of this design; it reposes among
the drawings in the All Souls library, and there is nothing to show
that any attempt was made to develop it. How Wren managed to drop it
completely has not been explained. He had the king’s leave to vary it
in minor points; he varied it altogether. It is probable that, the
matter being left in his hands, he quietly proceeded, as the years went
by, to improve upon his early ideas. The dome of the “warrant” design
is its ugliest feature; among Wren’s drawings are many sketches of
domes, none of them so bad as this, nor any so good as the final one,
nor is there any special sequence of steps to show how the ultimate
result was obtained. But it is easy to see that the result was his
own work, and that it was only after numerous trials that he at last
achieved it.
The building of St Paul’s took many years. The first stone was laid on
21st June 1675; the last stone of the cupola was laid by his son in the
old man’s presence in 1710. During this period of thirty-five years
Wren practically rebuilt the city churches, and was thus continually
gaining experience. The great cathedral will always be his chief
monument, but the fifty-three churches which he carried out would
themselves have made his reputation. The sites were mostly irregular,
but of so much value that it was essential to utilise them completely.
Wren covered them to the last inch, and yet contrived to get that
classic treatment in which symmetry plays so important a part. In many
hands symmetry would have meant extravagance in space and materials.
The problem in planning was new in another respect, for the churches
were all designed for the Protestant form of worship, requiring an
arrangement different from that of mediæval churches, and, among other
things, a suitable auditorium.
To his skill in planning he added a constant variety of treatment,
both inside and out; and, given a departure from the simple straight
lines of a Gothic spire, nothing could exceed the happy ingenuity and
fertility of design exhibited in Wren’s steeples.
Wren did not pass his whole time in designing ecclesiastical buildings.
He had the chief share in the shaping of Greenwich Hospital which,
originally intended for a palace, was begun and continued in a palatial
manner, although diverted from its first purpose and made into a home
for worn-out sailors (Fig. 98). He also began the rebuilding of Hampton
Court, but happily did not proceed, as was at one time contemplated,
to sweep away the whole of the older portions of that fascinating
place. These are both in a sense domestic work, but they are not
domestic in the way that appeals to the ordinary person. People who
live in palaces may well afford some sacrifice to grandeur. Wren’s
was the grand manner. His churches involved fairly simple planning.
Their requirements lent themselves to this treatment much more readily
than those of an ordinary house with its complicated demands, where
an uncomfortable plan is not atoned for by splendour of appearance.
If it be asked how Wren would have faced the difficulties of ordinary
domestic planning, there is but little material for an answer. The work
he did in the Temple does not help us much. Several houses in different
parts of the country are attributed to him, but without much reliable
evidence. At All Souls, however, there are a few drawings, either of
new houses or of alterations to old ones, and these do not go to prove
that he had his usual masterful grip of the subject. Doubtless, had
the necessity arisen, he would have acquired it, but his energies took
another direction, and he has left no solution of how to build a house
at once convenient, comfortable, and grand.
He lived to be an old man--he was ninety-one when he died in 1723--yet
he lived a strenuous life till within a few years of his death. He not
only devised his own buildings, but superintended their erection, and
it was largely on the scaffold that he gained his experience. This did
much to sober his judgment and make his work reasonable and sensible,
more so than that of his immediate successors. Although at first an
amateur, he became practical through being in constant touch with his
work: they remained amateurs all the way through.
[Illustration: FIG. 99.--Elevation of a House.
From the Wren Collection, All Souls College, Oxford.]
[Illustration: FIG. 100.--Elevation and Section of a House.
From the Wren Collection, All Souls College, Oxford.]
[Illustration: FIG. 101.--Elevation of a House.
From the Wren Collection, All Souls College, Oxford.]
A slight but vivid picture of him at work was drawn by the lively
Duchess of Marlborough, who, when expostulating with Vanbrugh for
demanding £300 a year for looking after Blenheim, declared that Wren
had been “content to be dragged up in a basket, three or four times a
week to the top of St Paul’s, and at great hazard, for £200 a year.”
All through his busy years as an architect he maintained his interest
in science, and was not only President of the Royal Society in 1680,
but continued to submit all sorts of inventions and suggestions for
the consideration of its members. Curiously enough, these things had
but little practical value, not even that one which showed how smoky
chimneys might be cured: indeed none but futile specifics have yet been
offered to the public with this end in view.
His later years were clouded by the intrigues of his opponents at
court, who not only contrived to oust him from his office of surveyor
to the royal works, but endeavoured to attack his character for
probity. The latter attempt failed of course; but when he was already
eighty-six and had held his office for nearly fifty years, he was
superseded by an unknown and incompetent person.
[Illustration: FIG. 102.--Sketches for the Front of Two
Houses, by Wren.]
Wren’s influence on architecture was powerful while he lived, but
he can hardly be said to have founded a distinctive school of
domestic architecture which long survived him. Soon after his death
new publications, amongst which the most influential was Kent’s
“Designs of Inigo Jones,” changed the trend of design. His influence,
however, continued to be felt in the treatment of interior decoration,
particularly in regard to panelling and ornamental woodwork, down to
the middle of the century. The exteriors of many small Georgian houses
may owe something to him, but such houses as are obviously reminiscent
of his manner were built during his lifetime.
Most of his successors, while carrying on the style in which he worked,
failed to impart to their work that vigour and reasonableness which
distinguished his. The rules and regulations which served as guides
to him became masters to them, and we look in vain among them either
for his scientific equipment or his intuitive perception of what was
fitting. The grandeur of manner which suited admirably the buildings
with which he had to deal, was out of place when applied to ordinary
houses; and the artificiality which sprang from the way in which
architecture was then regarded, but which his genius enabled him to
avoid, settled down heavily after his death.
Among the drawings at All Souls are the examples of house design
illustrated here (Figs. 99–102). They are not named, and have not been
identified; it is not even certain that they were ever carried out. But
they give some idea of Wren’s notions as to the appearance he would
have given to houses. In general disposition they conform to the type
adopted by Jones and Webb, but they have touches about them reminiscent
of French architecture,[46] more particularly those in Figs. 99, 101.
The others are two rough sketches for the front of a building (probably
a house), drawn on a piece of waste paper, and apparently they show two
methods of treating the same façade (Fig. 102). They are characteristic
of Wren’s manner as displayed at Hampton Court (see Fig. 6), more
so than the other examples illustrated, and they are certainly more
pleasing in their proportions and in the simplicity of their handling.
The design for part of a front for the new palace at Whitehall (Fig.
103) is interesting in two respects; it is a specimen of Wren’s
treatment of domestic architecture on a grand scale; and it proves
that Charles II. still harboured the idea of a great new palace at
Whitehall, an idea which fructified as little under Wren’s direction as
it had done under Webb’s. As a piece of design this is no advance upon
what had already been tried before. There is a weediness and crudity of
ornament about it which is out of keeping with Wren’s actual work; but
of him it may be said, as of Inigo Jones and other great architects,
that his designs are less happy on paper than in execution. Indeed
a study of all the important collections of architectural drawings
inclines one to take the negative side in the interesting controversy,
“Is fine drawing necessary to fine architecture?”
[Illustration: FIG. 103.--ELEVATION OF PART OF THE FRONT OF A
PROPOSED PALACE AT WHITEHALL.
From the Wren Collection, All Souls College, Oxford.]
[Illustration: FIG. 104.--BELTON HOUSE,
LINCOLNSHIRE.]
The indications of French feeling alluded to above may be accounted
for by the fact that in the early days of Wren’s connection with
architecture, in 1665, he went to France for a few months. He was
already enthusiastic in his new vocation, and like many an enthusiast
in the same cause before him and after him, he wanted to see what
was being done in foreign lands. He spent his whole time there in
interviewing eminent architects and in visiting the most noteworthy
buildings of Paris and its neighbourhood. He made so many sketches that
he said in one of his letters that he bid fair to bring back “almost
all France on paper.” He had indeed caught the architectural fever; and
every architect knows that thenceforward it would never leave his veins.
[Illustration: FIG. 105.--Belton House. Ground Floor.]
Among the houses attributed, on insufficient grounds, to Wren is Belton
House, near Grantham, one of the seats of Earl Brownlow (Fig. 104);
it was built in the year 1689 for Sir John Brownlow. There is nothing
particularly novel about it; it follows the type of what may be called
the Webb house, both as to plan (Fig. 105) and external treatment. It
has the bold cornice, the hipped roof, and the balustraded flat out of
which rises a cupola, which Webb had rendered familiar. In spite of its
good proportions, however, it hardly hits the mark so fully and truly
as Webb’s work, and it lacks in many respects the masculine vigour of
Wren’s. Nevertheless it is a notable building, and an admirable example
of a dignified yet unpretentious country house, quite comfortable to
live in.
[Illustration: FIG. 106.--IRON SCREEN AND GATES, BELTON HOUSE.]
[Illustration: FIG. 107.--BELTON HOUSE. CARVING IN THE
GREAT HALL.]
The screen of ironwork which runs from the house to a subsidiary range
of buildings contains a fine gateway (Fig. 106) and encloses a court of
some architectural interest and one which strikes a pleasing note,
as it brings some of the minor accommodation into close relationship
to the house. It is approached through an archway in the side opposite
to what is now the front door. Being enclosed on one side by the open
screen already mentioned, it has a cheerful outlook over the park. The
present front door, with its porch, has been squeezed in among the
windows; it probably replaces an original exit of small importance
which led into the court for the sake of convenience. The principal
entrance was formerly up the broad flight of steps in the middle of
the façade; but the present access, although not so stately, is better
adapted to modern requirements.
The interior has excellent decorative work of the period. In addition
to the panelling there is a considerable amount of carving attributed
to Grinling Gibbons (Fig. 107); and there are a few ceilings executed
in high relief, with admirably modelled detail, of which the treatment
corresponds with that associated with Gibbons’ name. So charming are
the figures and foliage that they prompt a desire to see them at close
quarters, instead of on the inaccessible heights of a ceiling.