On hearing this, King Charles stooped till he was the architect’s height, crept about the room in this attitude, and said laughing, ‘Ay, Sir Christopher, I think they are high enough.’[170]

The beautiful S. Stephen’s, Walbrook, was finished in 1679, and the parishioners, aware that their church was a gem of no common order, offered ‘a purse of twenty guineas to the Lady of Sir Christopher Wren, as a testimony of the regard that the parish has for the great care and skill that Sir Christopher Wren showed in the rebuilding of our church.’[171] Lady Wren did not long survive to share in her husband’s fame and to sympathise in his work.

Early in October she died and was buried in S. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, where Dr. Thomas Tenison[172] had succeeded Dr. Lloyd, when the latter was made Bishop of S. Asaph. He, too, was a hard-working parish priest, though neither so zealous nor so whole-hearted a churchman as the former vicar. He communicated to Evelyn[173] his plan ‘of erecting a library in S. Martin’s parish for the public use, and desired his assistance with Sir Christopher Wren about the placing and structure thereof.’ Dr. Tenison said that he had ‘between thirty and forty young men in orders in his parish either governors to young gentlemen, or chaplains to noblemen, who being reproved by him on occasion for frequenting taverns or coffee-houses, told him they would employ their time better if they had books.’ Wren fell readily into a scheme so congenial as this, and in a very few days the two friends were together at Dr. Tenison’s making a drawing and estimate of the library to be begun in the spring of that same year.

POPISH PLOT.

In 1678, the nation was excited to absolute frenzy by the declarations of the infamous Titus Oates concerning the ‘Popish Plot.’ In the same spirit as that in which they had laid the burning of London at the door of the Romanists, the mob lent greedy, credulous ears to the tales of Oates, and were encouraged by Lord Shaftesbury and his party, who made political capital out of this madness. Looking back, it is difficult to understand how such manifest falsehoods could have obtained credit; but it should be borne in mind that only seventy-three years had passed since the Gunpowder Plot had all but succeeded, and despite its failure left a mark in popular feeling which, however obscured and travestied, remains to this day. That it was fresh in the minds of the Members of Parliament may be seen from their insisting that a guard should be placed in the vaults over which they sate.

Bedloe, Oates’ villainous ally, having declared that an army of thirty thousand pilgrims was coming from Spain to join forty thousand who were ready to rise in London, the House of Lords insisted that a communication between the Spanish ambassador’s house and that of his neighbour Mr. Weld should be secured. No less a person than Sir Christopher himself was to be despatched by the Lords’ committee to see to this matter. Wren took the matter quietly enough; went with Mr. Edward Warcup, one of his assistants, and sent in a report stating that they had caused ‘padlocks to be hung on all such dores as open out of Mr. Weld’s house into the Spanish Embassador’s house;’ had then ‘acquainted his Excellency Count Egmont, who with great civility gave permission for all things necessary to be done on his side.’ They locked the doors on his side, barred some with iron, and handed over the keys to the Clerk of the Parliament, which no doubt felt itself more secure after this precaution.

Evelyn, it is plain from passages in his diary, disbelieved and distrusted Oates, and Wren, who gave no heed to panics, was probably of the same opinion. One wishes that Pepys had not been compelled in 1669, by failing eyesight, to give up keeping his most amusing diary, that he might have recorded his impressions of this time of frenzy. He, however, was a sufferer by it, being clapt into the Tower on a charge of ‘Popery, felony, piracy, and treason,’ in 1679. The ‘treason’ charged seems to have been that he sent information to the French Court about the state of the English navy. The ‘Popery,’ from which he was certainly free, was probably thrown in to give a flavour suited to the times. It is an incredible charge, and Pepys, who defended himself in a spirited letter to the Duke of York, was discharged in the following February.

The Royal Society, despite all these storms, kept its even course. Wren, who had been Vice-President, was elected President in 1680. With all his work, he contrived to take the Chair frequently at the meetings. Their discussions were very varied:—observations with the barometer, ways of sounding the sea, the curve described by a granado shot into the air, an account of the anatomy of the otter, and its power of diving;—Sir Christopher hereupon described the seal which was in S. James’s Park, as having muscles by which it could contract and dilate its nostrils, and by such means sink itself and lie at the bottom of the pool made for it, for a great while together, and that it ate its food at the bottom of the river.

A PHILOSOPHICAL SUPPER.

A new discovery by a French doctor named Papin[174] of a ‘digester’ for softening bones, caused much discussion at the Society. Wren inquired whether a contrary process to M. Papin’s could not be devised to harden bones, but Papin could give no answer. Two years later M. Papin gave a supper to which several of the Society went. Evelyn says, it was[175]—