The arts are generally to be traced to a humble origin, and in these works in niello, often discovering little taste, we recognize the cradle of that of engraving on copper, to which engraving on steel has within the last few years succeeded. In the earliest efforts of this kind, the lines produced were comparatively rude and unmeaning, and had nothing more to recommend them than their merely representing a particular sort of markings, or slight hatchings with a pen, without any apparent degree of execution or expression. It was not long, however, before this incipient art became indebted to the elegant etchings of the great masters in painting, as well as to their drawings in pen and ink. It acquired accuracy and taste from the drawings of Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, and Lionardo da Vinci, which connoisseurs of our own time have seen and admired. Some of those by Da Vinci were hatched in a square and delicate manner, with a white fluid on dark colored paper; while those of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle inclined more to the lozenge, in black or brown ink. They even carried this style of hatching with the pencil into their pictures, some of which adorn the Vatican, and into the famous cartoons, which are the glory of the picture gallery at Hampton Court; and by the persevering application of the graver, the art has been advancing to the present period.
When compared with painting, it appears but of recent invention, being coeval only with the art of printing.
It is for us to rejoice in the immense power that it now possesses, and to avoid the error pointed out by Lord Bacon when he said: “We are too prone to pass those ladders by which the arts are reared, and generally to reflect all the merit to the last new performer.”
SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.
This great architect, and learned man, was born in 1632. Though he was of a weak bodily constitution in childhood, he possessed a most precocious mind, and early manifested a strong inclination for the paths of science and philosophy. At the age of thirteen, he invented an astronomical instrument, a pneumatic engine, and another instrument of use in gnomonics. When fourteen years old, he was entered as a gentleman commoner at Wadham College, Oxford; and during the period of his collegiate course, he associated with Hooke, (whom he assisted in his Micrographia) and other scientific men, whose meetings laid the foundation of the Royal Society. In 1653, he was elected a Fellow of All Souls’ College; and by the age of twenty-four, he was known to the learned of Europe, for his various theories, inventions, and improvements, a list of which would be too long for insertion. In 1657 he was appointed to the professor’s chair of astronomy at Gresham College, London, and three years after, to that of the Savilian professor at Oxford. On the establishment of the Royal Society, he contributed largely to the success and reputation of that learned body.
WREN’S SELF-COMMAND.
Wren possessed great self-command, as appears from the following anecdote of him and his uncle, the Bishop of Ely, whom the Parliament had imprisoned in the Tower. Some time before the decease of Oliver Cromwell, Wren became acquainted with Mr. Claypole, who married Oliver’s favorite daughter. Claypole, being a lover of mathematics, had conceived a great esteem for young Wren, and took all occasions to cultivate his friendship, and to court his conversation, particularly by frequent invitations to his house and table. It happened in one of these conversations that Cromwell came into the room as they sat at dinner, and without any ceremony, as was his usual way in his own family, he took his place. After a little time, fixing his eyes on Wren, he said, “Your uncle has been long confined in the Tower.” “He has so, sir,” replied Wren, “but he bears his afflictions with great patience and resignation.” “He may come out if he will,” returned Cromwell. “Will your highness permit me to tell him so?” asked Wren. “Yes,” answered the Protector, “you may.” As soon as Wren could retire with propriety, he hastened with no little joy to the Tower, and informed his uncle of all the particulars of his interview with Cromwell; to which the Bishop replied with warm indignation, that “it was not the first time he had received the like intimation from that miscreant, but he disdained the terms proposed for his enlargement, which were a mean acknowledgment of his favor, and an abject submission to his detestable tyranny: that he was determined to tarry the Lord’s leisure, and owe his deliverance to him only.” This expected deliverance was not far distant, for he was released from confinement by the Restoration.
WREN’S RESTRAINTS IN DESIGNING HIS EDIFICES.
It is often seen, that when kings patronize genius, instead of allowing it to develop itself according to its own laws, they hamper it according to their own preconceived fancies. The palace at Hampton Court is censured for its ill proportions; but Cunningham says that Wren moved under sad restraints from the commissioners in one place, and the court in the other. When the lowness of the cloisters under the apartments of the palace was noticed by one of the courtiers, King William turned on his heel like a challenged sentinel, and answered sharply, “Such were my express orders!” The rebuked nobleman bowed, and acquiesced in the royal taste. When St. Paul’s Cathedral was nearly completed, the “nameless officials” called commissioners of that edifice, decided to have a stone balustrade upon the upper cornice, and declared their determination to that effect, “unless Sir Christopher Wren should set forth that it was contrary to the principles of architecture.” To this resolution, in which blind ignorance gropes its way, calling on knowledge to set its stumblings right, Wren returned the following answer: “I take leave first to declare I never designed a balustrade. Persons of little skill in architecture did expect, I believe, to see something that had been used in Gothic structures, and ladies think nothing well without an edging.” After this deserved satire, he showed clearly, at considerable length, that a balustrade was not in harmony with the general plan and unique combinations of the edifice; but his opinion was disregarded, and the balustrade was placed on the cornice.