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 inind, 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 im

prisoned 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 deliver

ance 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.

THE GREAT FIRE IN LONDON.

While the discussions were going on whether St. Paul's Cathedral should be restored, or the entire edifice be rebuilt, the great fire in London, in 1666, not only decided this question, but opened an extensive field for the display of Wren's talents in various other metropolitan buildings. One of his immediate labors, arising from the conflagration, was a survey of the whole of the ruins, and the preparation of a plan for laying out the devastated space in a regular and commodious manner, with wide streets, and piazzas at intervals, which he laid before Parliament; but his plans were not adopted, and the new streets arose in that dense and intricate maze of narrow lanes, which even now are but slowly disappearing before modern improvements. Furthermore, instead of the line of spacious quays along the Thames which Wren proposed, the river is shut out from view by wharfs and warehouses, to such an extent as to render any adequate scheme for the improvement of its banks hardly practicable. London might have arisen from her ashes the finest city in the world, had Wren's plans been followed.

ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.

Wren prepared several designs and models for this great edifice. The composition of his favorite plan was compact and simple, forming a general octagonal mass, surmounted by a cupola, and extended on its west side by a portico, and a short nave or vestibule within. The plan adopted, exhibits an almost opposite mode of treatment, both as to arrangement and proportions. While the first exhibits concentration and uniform spaciousness, the other is more extended as to length, but contracted in other respects, and the diagonal vistas that would have been obtained in the other case, are altogether lost in this. The first stone of the present edifice was laid June 21, 1675; the choir was opened for divine service in December, 1697; and the whole was completed in thirty-five years, the last stone on the summit of the lantern being laid by the architect's son Christopher, in 1710. Taken altogether, St. Paul's Cathedral is a truly glorious work, and its cupola is matchless in beauty. There are few churches of the past or present day that can vie with it in richness of design; and St. Peter's, with its single order and attic, appearing of much smaller dimensions than it really is, cannot be put in comparison with it. For a description of this edifice, see Spooner's Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculp tors, and Architects.