By Wren’s time, the practice of architecture had been organised generally on lines which were developed notably by the brothers Adam, very competent business men, and have been elaborated in very modern times. But substantially the methods remain the same except that contracting has equally been developed so that separate tradesmen are now merged in a general contractor in England. In Scotland Wren’s way still prevails to a large extent. There was nothing slapdash about Wren’s methods: everything was recorded in the most orderly and detailed manner. If materials delivered to St. Paul’s were for any reason transferred to one of the City churches, most careful entry was made in the accounts of the quantities and values, and the necessary debits and credits were taken into account when the contractors’ bills were settled. Wren was as efficient in business details as he was in design.
If my memory does not deceive me (and some thieving friend has made it impossible for me to verify my reference), it was Mr. G. K. Chesterton, in Biography for Beginners, who made moving comment on an imaginative picture of Wren in the act of being helped into a fur coat by an obsequious flunkey, as follows:
Sir Christopher Wren
Went to dine with some men.
“If any body calls
Say I’m designing St. Paul’s.”
Perhaps the major part of his long life of work was taken up by far less attractive tasks, for he was His Majesty’s Office of Works and His Majesty’s Office of Woods and Forests of his day rolled into one. The Privy Council called on him for reports on questions of all kinds. Elmes ploughed through a manuscript book of the Council’s transactions on almost every page of which Wren’s name appears. One Mr. Berkehead wanted to build a house and brew-house at Knightsbridge. Was this in contravention of His Majesty’s proclamation? No, it was too far out of town, and Mr. Berkehead may proceed. May Mr. Sleymaker build on an old foundation in Brick Lane? He gets his permission. Sir Richard Stydolfe had improperly started building at the rear of St. Giles’s Church leading from thence to Piccadilly. May he go on? The Surveyor-General goes off to St. Giles’s, examines the whole matter and reports that he should be so licensed “provided the said Sir Richard Stydolfe build regularly, according to direction and according to a design to which his said licence may refer; that he be obliged to build with brick, with party walls, with sufficient scantlings, good paving in the streets, and sufficient sewers and conveyances for the water ...” and so forth and so on. The Colonel Panton who gave his name to Panton Street was in similar trouble, but Wren found that the Colonel’s building scheme would “cure the noysomeness of the place” and “the design of the building shewn to me may be very usefull to the publique.” Wren was constructive in everything he did, and did not merely deal with the current business that was referred to him. Some builders in Soe Hoe “(surely a pleasanter spelling than Soho)” were building small and mean habitations, “receptacles for the poorer sort and the offensive trades” and rendering the government of these parts more unmanageable. His Majesty’s Sergeant Plumber was much upset about the manifest decay of the waters in the expenseful drains and conduits of Whitehall Palace which resulted from these nefarious proceedings in Soe Hoe, and Wren supported him with a petition. Soe Hoe had gone too far. His Majesty in person, His Majesty’s royal brother and Prince Rupert, and the Archbishop of Canterbury and others in full council, looked into the matter, met more than once about it. Wren was ordered to see that obedience be given to His Majesty’s proclamation: failing which, he was to imprison the workmen for contempt.
Lord Rochester asks him to examine the bills for repairing the Royal stables, and Wren goes through them and finds “the particular prices very reasonable, one thing with another.”
But sometimes Wren must have been bored. Finding lodgings for Mr. Ronchi at St. James’s was hardly a task for the creator of St. Paul’s, but he found them. In 1679 he was in professional touch with the troubles that followed the finding of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey dead in a ditch. Papists’ plots were in the air. The Spanish Ambassador became highly unpopular, and the Lords’ Committee appointed to look into “the late horrid conspiracy” ordered Sir Christopher Wren and Edward Warcup, Esq., to put padlocks on all such doors as open out of Mr. Weld’s house into the Ambassador’s house.
So “we repaired to Wild-house and having viewed the dores ... we affixed padlocks ...” and much more to the same effect, “all which we humbly submit.” I am glad to add that His Excellency showed great civility to Wren in the character of locksmith. In all these proceedings, as Elmes justly remarks, “the honour, integrity and public spirit of Wren appear transcendent.”