Wren had already declared that it was impossible to restore the old building, and in the following April, Sancroft wrote to him that he had been right in so judging.  “Our work at the west end,” he wrote, “has fallen about our ears.”  Two pillars had come down with a crash, and the rest was so unsafe that men were afraid to go near, even to pull it down.  He added, “You are so absolutely necessary to us that we can do nothing, resolve on nothing without you.”  This settled the question.

There is a little difficulty with regard to the drawing, preserved in the library of the cathedral, of the West Front after the Fire.  Evelyn, as we have seen, seems to describe it as far more ruinous than the picture before us shows.  Perhaps the artist filled up some of the details from his memory, for the drawing hardly looks so desolate a ruin as Evelyn implies.  The gable of the nave roof is striking enough, and evidently exactly according to fact; and the tower of St. Gregory’s preserves its external form, though it is inwardly consumed, as is the whole nave.  I am inclined to judge that this is substantially the appearance of the porch after the west end had been fitted up for worship as Sancroft described.  However, Wren had condemned the structure as unsafe, and the Dean had acquiesced, and the new cathedral was resolved upon.

There was delay, which was inevitable.  Not only was the whole city paralysed with the awful extent of the ruin, but there were questions which had to be referred to Parliament, as to the method of raising the funds.  Happily the whole voice of the people was of one accord in recognising that it was a paramount duty for the nation to build a splendid cathedral, worthy of England and of her capital city.  It was not until November 1673 that the announcement was made of the determination of the King and his Parliament to rebuild St. Paul’s.  The history of that rebuilding belongs to New St. Paul’s.  The King wanted to employ a French architect, Claude Perrault, who had built the new front of the Louvre, but this was objected to.  Then Denham, whose life may be read in Johnson’s Poets, and who wrote one poem which may still be met with, Cooper’s Hill, was appointed the King’s Surveyor, with Wren for his “Coadjutor.”  Denham held the title to his death, but had nothing to do with the work.  He died next year, and Wren then held unquestioned possession.  His account of the old building, the principal features of which have been borrowed in the foregoing paper, is given in his son’s book entitled Parentalia.  Our plan shows a change which Wren made as to the orientation.  In all probability this arose out of his scrupulous care as to the nature of the foundation.  The clearing away was most difficult.  Parts had to be blown up with gunpowder.  It is said that when he was giving instructions to the builders on clearing away the ruins, he called on a workman to bring a great flat stone, which he might use as a centre in marking out on the ground the circle of the dome.  The man took out of the rubbish the first large stone that came to hand, which was a piece of gravestone, and, when it was laid down, it was found to have on it the single word “RESURGAM.”  He took this, and there was no superstition in such an idea, as a promise from God.