When Charles II. was restored to his inheritance in 1660, he evidently contemplated indulging in the royal pastime of fine building. At this time John Webb was not only the veteran of architecture, but the most notable exponent of the art then living in England. His claims on the favour of the king were founded on his long and intimate connection with Inigo Jones, a name to conjure with both in relation to architecture and to the less stable factor of court influence. They were supported on the practical side by the work he had done, although fruitlessly, for Charles’s father in the preparation of the great schemes for the palace at Whitehall, and by the assistance he had given both in architecture and the artistic hobbies of the time to many of the nobility and gentry. They were supported on the human side by personal services rendered to the late king, especially in furnishing to him, while at Oxford, full designs and particulars of all the fortifications round London, with instructions how they might be carried; and in conveying to the king, whilst at Beverley, his majesty’s jewellery, which he took, concealed in his waistcoat, through the enemy’s quarters, suffering, in consequence of the fact being discovered, close imprisonment for a month.
These claims, as we have seen, failed to gain for him the coveted post of surveyor to the king’s works, but Charles employed him in resuscitating the idea of a new palace at Whitehall, which never came to fruition, and in actually erecting a considerable part of the projected palace at Greenwich.
Webb never succeeded in obtaining the official appointment for which he longed, for which he appears to have had the best qualifications, and of which he was actually promised the reversion on the death of Sir John Denham, who was preferred before him at the Restoration. The reasons for his failure are obscure, but it may be that his active employment during the Commonwealth told against him, for his clients of that period were obviously not such devoted adherents of the royal cause as to be in exile, or suffering other great hardships. It may be that he lacked the support and patronage of John Evelyn, whose influence with Charles II. in all matters of culture was enormous. It may be that his age was against him, for when Wren was appointed on the death of Denham, Webb was fifty-seven years old. But whatever the cause, his failure was complete, and he eventually retired to his home at Butleigh where he died in 1672. Although he missed the goal of his ambition, although the men who have had the ear of the world have not sounded his name in high notes, he was a remarkable man. The work conceded to him by general consent is noteworthy, and he probably did more to influence domestic architecture in England than any other man of his time, Inigo Jones not excepted. For any student, divesting himself of established prejudices, who will examine his original drawings, can hardly fail to come to the conclusion that it was his imagination and his hand which developed and prepared most of the designs which, published as the work of Inigo Jones, had so wide an effect upon English houses in the eighteenth century.
Charles II.’s interest in the pastime of building was but fitful. The 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.