Of Wren’s mother nothing is known, not even the date of her death. Of his seven sisters (the number given in Rylands’ pedigree), the only one to survive was Susan, who became Mrs. Holder, and wisely used her great skill in nursing during her brother’s delicate childhood. She was five years his senior, and had no children of her own. Christopher’s boyhood must have been clouded not a little by the misfortunes of his stout-hearted uncle, Matthew Wren, Bishop of Ely, whose son, another Matthew, was a faithful cousin to Christopher in later years. This is no place to tell the story of the Bishop who, with eleven of his brethren, was impeached for resisting the Parliament in 1641, and went to the Tower. After a short freedom in 1642 he was imprisoned again, and, being charged with Catholic practices, languished there while Laud was tried and beheaded, and, himself never brought to trial, remained a close prisoner until he was released by Monk’s warrant on March 15, 1660. Broken though he was by domestic bereavements during his eighteen years of captivity, the brave old man took up again his episcopal duties at the age of seventy-five. That he remained a prisoner so long was due to his refusal to bow the knee to the new order. It does not appear that Christopher ever saw his uncle in the Tower, save on one great occasion, when he made an unsuccessful effort to secure his release. Wren was twenty-four when he became professor of astronomy at Gresham College, and made the acquaintance of Richard Claypole, husband of Cromwell’s favourite daughter, Elizabeth. At their dinner table Wren became a frequent guest, the more welcome because Elizabeth Claypole remained a devout Church of England woman. One day Cromwell strode in and sat down to dinner, and fixing his eye on Christopher, said: “Your uncle has been long confined to the Tower.” To Wren’s reply, “He has so, sir, but he bears his afflictions with great patience and resignation,” the Protector made the astonishing reply: “He may come out an he will.” When Christopher asked if he might take that message to Bishop Matthew from the Lord Protector’s own mouth, he got the answer: “Yes, you may.” But when the young man hurried off to the Tower with his message, the Bishop roundly refused to deal with the usurper on terms which meant submission, and preferred to tarry the Lord’s leisure and owe his deliverance to Him alone. A loyal race, the Wrens. In 1656, not long before this incident, Dean Wren had died at Bletchingdon, where his son-in-law, Dr. Holder, had been parson for some years, and was buried in the chancel of the church. It was there that Christopher must have met Faith, daughter of Sir Thomas Coghill of Bletchingdon, Oxon. Born in 1636, she was four years younger than Wren, who is likely to have known her since his childhood.