[1714 A.D.] sion, too, it may emphatically be said that the emergency called forth the man, so that when a new metropolis worthy of the national grandeur was to be created, a great architect was at hand to direct the undertaking. The vast, varied and creative mind of Sir Christopher Wren, extending over a long life, sufficed not only to commence but complete the work, so that upon the gates of the capital itself, as well as upon his tomb in St. Paul's, the motto might have been engraved: Si monumentum quæris, circumspice. This great architect, who at the commencement of his career seems to have been ignorant of his proper vocation, as well as the great work which he was destined to accomplish, was originally a student at Oxford, where mathematics and astronomy occupied his chief attention; and such was his proficiency in these sciences that at the early age of eighteen he was one of the most distinguished of those illustrious philosophers who afterwards, in 1660, constituted the Royal Society. England, however, was to be sufficiently enriched by her Newton; and therefore Wren, after obtaining a high reputation in the mathematical and astronomical sciences, turned his attention to their practical application by the study of architecture, so that, in 1661, he was appointed coadjutor to Sir John Denham, the poet, who, on the death of Inigo Jones, had been raised by royal favour to the post of surveyorgeneral. Of course, the duties of such a partnership would fall upon Sir Christopher, and one of the first was to survey and plan the restoration of St. Paul's cathedral, now gradually falling into ruin. Sir Christopher soon found that such a restoration would at best be but a patchwork; and while the question was pending whether the building should be repaired or wholly rebuilt, the great conflagration stepped in to decide the controversy. Both capital and cathedral were now a heap of rubbish, and all must be made anew. It would be unfair to ask how much the exultation of Wren at being thus emancipated from the tinkering-up of an old worn-out city may have qualified his regret at the demolition and sympathy for the sufferers; it is enough to know that he set to work to repair the evil, and soon created a better London than the former. Never upon any one architect, perhaps, had such a task been devolved since the days of the building upon Shinar. As the legislature had now a full opportunity for passing such enactments as might secure comfortable healthy houses and commodious streets, it was decreed that in future all buildings in London should be of brick or stone; that party walls, of sufficient strength and thickness, should separate one house from another; and that rain-water pipes should be substituted for the spouts that had been wont to pour their torrents from the house-tops upon the heads of those who walked below; while builders were exhorted to devise improvements for their structures by making mouldings, and projections of rubbed brick. In the meantime, Wren had surveyed the ruins, and presented his plan for laying out the new town. Need it be added that this plan, though grand, regular, and comprehensive, was crossed, altered, and curtailed, through the caprice, the jealousy, or poverty of those at whose expense it was to be realised, and who therefore claimed a principal voice in its details? Still, much was accomplished, although it fell far short of the original. Such was also the fate of St. Paul's, the crowning work and masterpiece of the great architect, the plan of which the duke of York altered to suit the popish ceremonial, when romanism should be restored in Britain, although Wren with tears remonstrated against the interference. Such, too, in a still greater degree was the fate of the London monument, the original plan of which, as presented by Sir Christopher, was highly graceful and appropriate; but which had the fate to [1714 A.D.] fall into the hands of the civic authorities for realisation. Let us forget, if we can, what they made of it: London's column pointing to the skies, The amenities of modern society have prevailed at last. The lie is expunged, and the "tall bully," as if he had just escaped the infliction of the pump, stands shivering and crestfallen in a corner. Besides St. Paul's, which Sir Christopher had the singular good fortune to complete as well as plan, he superintended the erection of fifty-one churches in London, which still constitute the chief architectural ornaments of the now greatly changed and improved metropolis. To these might be added public buildings both in London and elsewhere, of which a mere list would exceed our limits. After having done so much for his country, and raised the character of its architecture to so high an eminence, his fate was that which usually awaits the greatest of benefactors: society united to persecute that excellence which it could not equal, and return injuries for those benefits which it could not repay. Deprived of his office of surveyor-general, which he had held for forty-nine years, he calmly exclaimed, "Nunc me jubet fortuna expeditius philosophar"; and retired to the country at the age of eighty-six, where he spent the remaining five years of his life in contemplation and reading, and chiefly in the study of the Holy Scriptures. There, also, he closed his career; "cheerful in solitude," says his son, "and as well pleased to die in the shade as in the light." His final resting-place, as well as fittest monument, was the vault of St. Paul's, in which his remains were deposited. His fame was so great, and his excellence so transcendent, that during the present period no other English architect is named. Whether his place has been adequately filled at any period since his departure, can be best learned by a glance at our public buildings. The greatest poet of the age next to Milton, and the most influential in forming the spirit and developing the maturity of English literature, was John Dryden, the Chaucer of the seventeenth century. He was born at Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire, in 1632, and educated first at Westminster School under the celebrated Dr. Busby, and afterwards at Trinity College, Cambridge. His first poetical attempt, which he gave to the world in 1649, was an elegy on the death of Lord Hastings, a young nobleman of high character and promise; but a subject so well fitted to call forth affectionate enthusiasm at least, if not poetical inspiration, from a young poet of seventeen, was such a tissue of cold conceits and overstrained artificial figures, as to give no promise whatsoever of the excellence he was afterwards to attain. The young lord had died of the small-pox, and Dryden, directing his admiration to the pustules, converts them into ornaments on the soil of Venus-into jewels into rosebuds — and finally into pimples, each having a tear in it to bewail the pain it was occasioning! This was enough; and he remained in silence for nine years afterwards not idly, however, as was manifested not only by his general scholarship, but the superior taste of his next production, in which he had the resolution to abandon his models of Donne and Cowley, and become a genuine follower of nature. This poem, entitled "Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell," was a proper theme for Dryden, who had been educated among Puritans, and patronised at the court of the protector. With the Restoration, however, he was ready with a palinode under the title of "Astræa Redux," welcoming the return of Charles II, and predicting from the event a millennium of political happiness; and in 1666 appeared his "Annus Mirabilis,” [1714 A.D.] the subjects of which were the Dutch War and the fire of London. It was only now, indeed, that his mind broke forth in full vigour after so thorough a maturing, and established him in the highest rank of poetry. Long before this, however, his republican and Puritan sympathies had expired; the new king and court were more to his taste; and as his small patrimonial estate yielded only about £60 a year, while his wants equalled a tenfold amount, his chief dependence was royal favour, which he was ready to purchase at any price. And seldom, indeed, has such an amount of genius been so mercilessly exacted, or so poorly repaid. It was Samson in the prison-house grinding for his daily subsistence. During a literary life, continued to such a period, and urged to such constant exertion by the claims of necessity, the productions of Dryden were both numerous and diversified. Besides many smaller poems, which of themselves would fill several volumes, he wrote eight of considerable length, of which The Hind and the Panther, and Absalom and Achitophel, are the most distinguished. As a dramatic writer he wrote twenty-eight plays. Besides a poetical version of Vergil, he gave translations from Ovid, Theocritus, Lucretius, Horace, Juvenal, and Persius. He also wrote adaptations, under the name of Fables, from Chaucer and Boccacio, which, though produced in his old age, constitute the most popular and pleasing of his writings. Indeed, it is perceptible throughout the course of his writings, that although his mind was slow in maturing, it continued in active operation to the close, and that, too, with growing improvement, so that his latest productions were also his best.i SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC CONDITIONS The manners of the English gentry, in this age, were, in a great measure, purely national; and, except at court, had received from foreign nations neither polish nor corruption. To travel had not yet grown to be a very common practice. It was not yet thought that a visit to more genial climes or more lovely landscapes was the best preparation for afterward living happily and contented in one's own. In fact, according to the old English maxims, no one could go abroad without special permission from the sovereign. Thus, in the reign of Elizabeth, Sir William Evers was severely punished because he had presumed to make a private journey to Scotland. In the first part of the eighteenth century, the same authority seems to still have existed, at least with respect to the great nobility. The duke of Shrewsbury, for example, could not go abroad, in 1700, until he had obtained leave from King William. Thus, also, the duke of Marlborough's application for a passport, in 1712, was opposed by several members of the cabinet. The fees for a passport at the foreign office amounted to upwards of £6, a sum far from inconsiderable in those days, and serving as a check upon the lower class of travellers. To travel with passports from the foreign ministers resident in England is a later innovation. Thus amongst the gentry and middle classes of Queen Anne's time the French language was much undervalued, and seldom studied. At court, however, the case was very different; and, though few could speak French very accurately, it is remarkable how much the style of many eminent men at this period, in their private correspondence, teems with gallicisms. The letters of Marlborough, especially, appear written by a Frenchman. Thus, for example, he uses the word "opiniatrety" for obstinacy, and "to defend" instead of to forbid. At the Peace of Utrecht the population of England was not much above [1714 A.D.] five millions. It may be doubted whether that of Scotland exceeded one million, or that of Ireland, two. It is certain, however, that the rural inhabitants of England then very far outnumbered those in the towns; but the latter having since increased in a much greater proportion, more especially in the manufacturing districts, the two classes have come nearly to an equality; a change which has involved within it the germ of other changes. The national debt, at the accession of Anne, had been only £16,000,000, with an interest of £1,300,000. In 1714, it had grown to £52,000,000, with an interest of £3,300,000. By the accounts presented to parliament in that year, it appeared that the expense of the late war during twelve years amounted to nearly £69,000,000, making a yearly average of above five millions and a half. The debts, during this period, seem to have been contracted on very moderate terms. Lord-Treasurer Godolphin observes, in one of his letters, in 1706: "Though the land and trade both of England and Holland have excessive burdens upon them, yet the credit continues good, both with us and with them; and we can, either of us, borrow money at four or five per cent.; whereas, the finances of France are so much more exhausted that they are forced to give 20 and 25 per cent. for every penny of money they send out of the kingdom, unless they send it in specie.' In 1709, the supplies voted exceeded seven millions, a sum that was unparalleled, and seemed enormous. In fact, though these sums at present may appear light in our eyes, they struck the subjects of Anne with the utmost astonishment and horror. "Fifty millions of debt, and six millions of taxes!" exclaimed Swift: "the high allies have been the ruin of us!" Bolingbroke points out, with dismay, that the public revenue, in neat money, amounted, at the Revolution, to no more than two millions annually; and the public debts, that of the bankers included, to little more than £300,000. Speaking of a later period, and of a debt of thirty millions, he calls it "a sum that will appear incredible to future generations, and is so almost to the present!" How much juster and more correct on this point were the views of Secretary Stanhope. In the minutes of a conference which he held in 1716, with Abbé Dubois, the following remark is recorded of him: "However large our national debt may be thought, it will undoubtedly increase much more, and believe me it will not hereafter cause greater difficulty to the government, or uneasiness to the people, than it does at present." But, though we might astonish our great-grandfathers at the high amount of our public income, they may astonish us at the high amount of their public salaries. The service of the country was then a service of vast emolument. In the first place, the holder of almost every great office was entitled to plate; secondly, the rate of salaries, even when nominally no larger than at present, was, in fact, two or three times more considerable from the intermediate depreciation of money. But even nominally, many offices were then of higher value, and when two or more were conferred upon the same person he, contrary to the present practice, received the profits of all. As the most remarkable instance of this fact, I may mention the duke and duchess of Marlborough. Exclusive of Blenheim, of parliamentary grants, of gifts, of marriage portions from the queen to their daughters, it appears that the fixed yearly income of the duke, at the height of his favour, was no less than £54,825, and the duchess had, in offices and pensions, an additional sum of £9,500 a sum infinitely greater than could now be awarded to the highest favour of the most eminent achievements. There can be no doubt that the former scale was unduly high: but it may be questioned whether we are not at present running into another as dangerous extreme; whether by diminishing so much the emoluments of public service [1714 A.D.] we are not deterring men with genius, but without fortune, from entering the career of politics, and forcing them rather to betake themselves to some lucrative profession; whether the greatest abilities may not thereby be diverted from the public service; whether we are not tending to the principle that no man, without a large private property, is fit to be a minister of state; whether we may not, therefore, subject ourselves to the worst of all aristocracies, an aristocracy of money; whether we may not practically lose one of the proudest boasts of the British constitution under which great talent, however penniless, or lowborn, not only may raise but frequently has raised itself above the loftiest of our Montagus or Howards. In Queen Anne's time the diplomatic salaries were regulated according to a scale established in 1669. Ambassadors-ordinary in France, Spain, and the emperor's court had £100 a day, and £1,500 for equipage; in Portugal, Holland, Sweden, and the other courts, £10 a day and £1,000 for equipage. Ambassadors-extraordinary had everywhere the same allowances as the ambassadors-ordinary, and differed only in the equipage money, which was to be determined by the sovereign according to the occasion. Considering the difference in the value of money, such posts also were undoubtedly more lucrative and advantageous than at present. But, on the other hand, these salaries and sometimes even those of the civil government at home were very irregularly paid, and often in arrear. "I neither have received nor expect to receive," says Bolingbroke,j in one of his letters, "anything on account of the journey which I took last year by her majesty's order (into France); and as to my regular appointments, I do assure your lordship I have heard nothing of them these two years." Ministerial or parliamentary corruption - at least so far as foreign powers were concerned-did not in this generation, as in the last, sully the annals of England. Thus, for example, shamefully as the English interests were betrayed at the Peace of Utrecht by the English ministers, there is yet no reason whatever to suspect that they, like the patriots of Charles II's reign, had received presents or "gratifications" from Louis XIV. Should we ascribe this change to the difference of the periods or of the persons? Was the era of the Peace of Utrecht really preferable to that of 1679, hailed by Blackstone as the zenith of British constitutional excellence? Or were Bolingbroke and Oxford more honest statesmen than Littleton and Algernon Sidney? |