‘Whereas great waste had been for many years past made of our quarries in the Isle of Portland, ... and the great occasion we have of using much of the said stone, both for the building and repairing our houses and for the repaire of S. Paul’s, our pleasure is ... that all persons forbeare to transport any more stone from our Isle of Portland without the leave and warrant first obtained from Dr. Christopher Wren, Surveyor of our Works, as hath been formerly accustomed in that behalf.’
Wren must have commanded an army of quarrymen in the little island, not then grim with convicts and with a prison; but nevertheless he had, as in the case of the Monument, not seldom to pause in his work before he could get blocks of the size he required. As the choir rose the time came in which the space for the great Dome was to be marked out. The architect stood watching with some of his friends, and called to one of the workmen to bring him a stone to mark a special spot; when the man obeyed, Wren saw that the stone thus brought had an inscription upon it—the single word ‘Resurgam.’[167] It was looked upon by Sir Christopher as a singularly happy omen, and he took great pleasure in telling the anecdote.
DR. HOLDER AND DR. WALLIS.
In the meantime a sharp controversy was going on within the Royal Society between Dr. Wallis and Sir Christopher’s brother-in-law, Dr. Holder. Dr. Holder had a living in Hertfordshire and had received from Bishop Henchman a canonry in S. Paul’s. In 1678 he brought out a book called ‘The Elements of Speech’ with an appendix concerning ‘Persons deaf and dumb.’ In this book he described the cure he had himself performed when at Bletchingdon of a young gentleman, Mr. Alexander Popham, the son of a certain Edward Popham, admiral in the service of the Long Parliament, whom, though born dumb, he had gradually taught to speak. The youth, taken away before the cure was quite finished, lost the lately acquired power of speech, but on being sent to Dr. Wallis recovered it; thereupon Dr. Wallis claimed the entire credit. In his book Dr. Holder took occasion to speak of the Royal Society as originating in meetings held at Oxford.
Upon this Dr. Wallis wrote a pamphlet entitled ‘A Defence of the Royal Society in reply to some cavils of Dr. W. Holder.’ The quarrel appears to have been a hot one, turning chiefly on the credit of curing Alexander Popham.
Wood, the antiquary,[168] speaks of Dr. Wallis ‘as one that can make black white, and white black, for his own ends, and hath a ready knack of sophistical evasion (as the writer of these matters doth know full well),’ and gives the credit to Dr. Holder. Wallis was little loved by any royalist because of his conduct in decyphering King Charles I.’s papers at Naseby.[169] In the ‘Parentalia’ are two finger alphabets, with two hands drawn in Indian ink, the fingers of which have different letters assigned to the different joints; one is an ordinary and simple way, the other, more elaborate, is entitled ‘An arte to make the Dumbe to speake, the Deafe to heare. To speake amongst others unseen and unhearde. Learned in an howre.’ Minute directions are given, but the system is so elaborate that it is very sanguine to think it could have been ‘learned’ under several hours. The writing is not like Christopher Wren’s, and I think it must belong to Dr. Holder’s scheme.
Mrs. Holder went on in her tranquil course, ministering to the poor around her. In early days she had made a careful study of such medical science as was then known. Barbarous as the surgery was, the remedial part of medicine appears to have been somewhat better understood. The circulation of the blood had very lately been discovered by Harvey; and whether it was the efficacy of the herbs and simples used, or the faith of the patients, or both, it is certain that many cures were made and much suffering alleviated. It is said of Mrs. Holder that ‘she happily healed thousands.’ She cured Charles II. of a hurt in his hand, whether in his early days of peril and wandering, or in later life, is not said. After the Restoration she was connected more or less with the Court, as her husband was subdean of the Chapels Royal, and she healed Queen Catharine and many of the Court. When one reads in Evelyn’s or in Pepys’ diary of the frightful remedies used: the ‘hot fire pans’ applied to the head in cases of apoplexy, the constant bleeding, the roughness of the entire treatment, one is thankful to think that they were occasionally ministered to by the gentler hand of a woman.
A taste for the science of medicine seems to have been common in the Wren family. Sir Christopher studied it at Oxford under Sir Charles Scarborough and drew the plates for Dr. Thomas Willis’ ‘Cerebri Anatome,’ which was in great repute. His cousin, Thomas Wren, made it a matter of serious study, probably living by it as a profession at the time when Bishop Wren’s imprisonment left his younger children penniless. The same honourable calling was chosen by Sir Christopher’s grandson, Stephen Wren. Among all the patients whom good Mrs. Holder tended and cared for, in none could she have taken more pride than in the brother over whose sickly childhood she had watched, and whose fame she saw daily increasing. Nor was there any drawback to her delight: loving, gentle, modest, and courteous he had been as a boy, and the famous successful architect possessed those qualities still. In a corrupt age, all testimony leaves him spotless; in positions of great trust and still greater difficulty his integrity was but the more clearly shown by the attacks made against him; among the foremost philosophers of his age, he was a striking example that ‘every good gift and every perfect gift is from above;’ no child could hold the truths of Christianity with a more undoubting faith than did Sir Christopher Wren.
‘I THINK THEY ARE HIGH ENOUGH.’
His personal appearance is only known to us from pictures: it seems he was ‘thin and low of stature,’ and it is recorded that when he was building a hunting palace at Newmarket for Charles II., the King came to see it, looked round, and was well satisfied with the general effect, but said he thought the rooms were too low. Wren, who knew the King well, and could hold his own when needful, looked up to the ceiling, and said quietly: ‘Sir, I think they are high enough.’