Christopher Wren Builds a Cathedral

Christopher Wren Builds a Cathedral

Old St Paul's Cathedral, from An introduction to English church architecture from the eleventh to the sixteenth

century, by Francis Bond, 1913.


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Tuesday, 1665 “Come in Mr. Wren, come in,” said the Chairman. “Please, do sit down.” “Thank you,” replied Christopher Wren. “As you know, this Committee has been assigned to oversee the task of rebuilding the spire of the Cathedral at Ludgate,” began the Chairman. “St Paul’s,” he added, in case there was any doubt. “And in that capacity, naturally, our first step is to solicit one or two designs for it.” “I understand,” said Wren. “Can’t say that I am familiar with your work, but you do come highly recommended by Robert Hooke of the Royal Society. Good old Bob, eh!” “Ah, yes . . . Er . . . Bob. He is most kind.” “Forgive me for asking, but what does a rector know about building a cathedral? Granted, I dare say, you’re quite familiar with them inside and out, given your profession, but that isn’t the same as building one, now is it?” “Well, I did design the Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford.”


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“Not quite the same thing is it? A theatre and a cathedral, different purpose, different, if I may say, audience.” “But for an audience nonetheless! And I did design the new chapel for Pembroke College, Cambridge.” “And Oxford is not London, by any stretch of the imagination now is it?” “Erm, no.” “Neither is Cambridge.” “As you say, Cambridge and London are different cities.” “Well, perhaps I digress, but we are talking London after all.” “We are, yes.” “And cathedrals!” “I understand.” “As long as we understand each other.” The chairman, having exhausted his comparison of London and college towns, moved on. “And then we have the politics - the Crown, Parliament . . . And are you familiar with the Stone-Masons Guild?” A shaking of heads and a muttering of oaths arose from the fellow Members of the Committee. “It’s bad enough that we are forced to


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employ them . . . but they are a handful, Chris, to say the least - may I call you Chris? If you let them, they’d walk all over you.” “That job they did over at Newgate Prison! Talk about lazy - Five years past the due date that was,” added a Committee Member. “And the work was so shoddy, the inmates were scraping holes in the walls with their fingers.” “Now, Harry, don’t get me started.” The chairman decided not to get started. “Any way, Chris, go away, have a bit of a think, and see what you can come up with. As I say, early days yet, but if we could get your ideas before the old steeple actually topples over, that would be a big help.”

Friday, 1668 “Thing is Chris, as you know, there’s been a bit of a change of plan,” said the Chairman. “Caused by the plague or the fire?” asked Wren. “Well, both really. The fire, as you know, destroyed old St Paul’s; and so now our commission is to rebuild it, not just replace the old


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worn out bits as we first intended. Everything’s changed.” “We’re not just talking spires anymore,” added the Committee Member. “I anticipated your need for a completely new building,” said Wren. “Here is my plan for St. Paul’s.” “But the plague has decimated our congregation,” continued the Chairman, as he rolled open Wren’s blueprints and peered at the design, compete with dome, “. . . As well as our benefactors! Times are always tough, but in this economic climate . . . Oh, no, no, no, Chris . . . Won’t do! Won’t do at all, will it?” “Pardon?” “No Chris . . . it’s too . . . what’s the word?” “French,” suggested the Committee Member. “Too French,” agreed the Chairman “Italian, actually,” said Wren. “Think Pantheon.” “French, Italian, same difference . . . the thing is, it’s not English. Domes are not English!” argued the Committee Member. “Chris, Chris,” soothed the Chairman. “You see, in these troubling times, we’ve got to give the


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people something familiar to comfort them. Bums on seats, Chris, that’s what it’s all about, putting bums on seats. The people want good old fashioned English Gothic; ornate, little fiddly bits and such, you can see that? This . . . renaissance stuff may be alright for the . . . renaissance, but you’ve got to remember the end user.” “And gargoyles,” added the Committee Member. “What?” asked the Chairmen, somewhat confused. “Gargoyles . . . people like gargoyles.” “Well that goes without saying,” “I was just saying,” “And I was just saying,” chided the Chairman, holding up his hand to silence his colleague. “That gargoyles goes without saying.” “Well, it is for the Committee to decide,” conceded Wren. “Glad you agree,” said the Chairman. “Anyway, don’t take it personally . . . good first effort and all that, but we are the experts, Chris.” Before he could continue, the Committee Member whispered in his ear. “Still, I like your enthusiasm. So go away and try again, there’s a good lad.”


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“And don’t forget the gargoyles.” “Gargoyles? . . . Yes, of course, most important.” Wren rose from his seat and departed the room. “The King?” yelled the Chairman at the Committee Member. “The King has appointed Wren as Surveyor General. Why didn’t you tell me this before? How come I’m always the last to know?”

Monday, 1676 “Now, this is more like it, Chris,” said the Chairman, studying Wren’s new designs for the Cathedral. “Yes, I think we have a winner here.” “The gargoyles are not too French, you don’t think?” asked Wren, cautiously. “No . . . Er, no, I’m sure they’ll be OK . . . Anyway, they’ll be up high; we can get away with a bit of fluff up on high. Never let it be said we can’t move with the times.” “I do like the spire,” said the Committee Member.


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“Yes, that is what we want. Gothic! Good solid English design. It’s worked for 500 years; it’ll work for another 500.” “And I’m happy that you dropped that dome idea,” added the Committee Member. “Not that I didn’t like it, of course, but the Stone-Masons would have had a field day with that. Talk about cost overruns.” OK, Chris, I think that we can proceed with this design. Well done!”

Thursday, 1697 “Well what do you think?” asked the Committee Member. Along with the people of the City of London, the Committee had gathered at the official opening of St. Paul’s Cathedral. It had been a long, hard road, not without its ups and downs, and the Stone-Masons Guild had proved as troublesome as ever. At least Christopher Wren had been a delight to work with. Nothing was too much trouble for him. As the Committee had reviewed the plans in


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detail, they had wanted to make changes and Wren had been only too happy to accommodate them, without complaint. That someone, and an architect of all people, could so suppress his ego as to acquiesce to every whim of the Committee, was unusual. In other projects, the Committee had to fight tooth and nail to overcome the architects temperament and vanity for the slightest changes in design. But not Wren! He had simply smiled, gone away and redrawn the plans in accordance with their demands. Wren had risen high in the ranks of society and even been awarded a Knighthood. Unusual, thought the Chairman, for someone so naive and innocent in the art of politics and Court intrigue. And now the Chairman and the Committee looked towards the culmination of more than 30 years of effort. They looked at St. Paul’s. They looked up. They looked at where the spire should have been. They looked up at the dome that Wren had built. The Chairman thought Pantheon. “This is not what we approved. He completely ignored us and built to his original design,” complained the Committee Member.


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“What can we say?” said the Chairman. “The King gave him the authority to make ornamental changes.” “Somewhat more than ornamental, wouldn’t you say? He didn’t even keep the gargoyles. He promised us gargoyles.”

CHRISTOPHER WREN BUILDS A CATHEDRAL Copyright © 2010 by Tom Weston. All Rights Reserved. Visit www.tom-weston.com for more Tales from the Green Dragon Tavern.

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Christopher Wren Builds a Cathedral