the whole, I do with satisfaction of mind pronounce for the wages and the

expenses.

We may observe, in conclusion, that the name of the Court so often referred to, and which after declining for centuries is now in all probability about again to become important, is derived from the arches below Bow Church, Cheapside, to which edifice they also give name. These arches and their supporting pillars are very interesting to the antiquary, not only from the facts already stated, but from their great antiquity. They are of Norman origin, and were probably built during the reign of the Conqueror, perhaps by himself, who, as we have already seen, founded the earliest Ecclesiastical Courts in this country, and most likely that of the Arches, as being the Archbishop's, first of all. Stow could find no evidence of the date of its establishment, or when it first sat at Bow Church; but there seems little doubt that it is coeval, or nearly so, with the ancient arches, and has never been removed from their vicinity till our own times. The Court of Arches was occasionally held here even down to the year 1825, if not later, in the part that now forms the vestry, the subject of the following engraving. The original connection between the Church and the Court we presume to be this:-the parish of St. Mary-le-Bow is the chief of the thirteen parishes in the City which are called peculiars, forming a Deanery exempt from the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London, and attached to that of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Hence also the name of the Judge-Dean of the Arches.

ONE of the most curious and interesting facts in the history of the human mind is the peculiar mode of its progression :-its alternating rise and fall-the preliminary retreat before every great advance, as if to derive fresh strength and impetus for the spring. And whatever the path, this characteristic still presents itself. In religion, Pagan Rome did not change to Christian Rome, and the worship of the One God, till the believers in a multitude of deities had passed through the worse state of practical disbelief in any in philosophy or morality, the Divine voice that taught the essence of both, in the words "Love one another," was first heard, and received into men's hearts, at a time when the Grecian and Roman conquerors, by their vast organized systems of slaughter, devastation, and pillage, had well nigh banished the very ideas of humanity and justice from the world, and made philosophy a by-word of scorn: in science, literature, and art-the great ones of antiquity found fitting successors in such men as (to refer only to our own country) Roger Bacon and Chaucer--the artists of their temples in the artists of our early ecclesiastical churches, but what a

VOL. V.

C

mighty and almost unfathomable gulf divided them-the dark ages, as we call a long period---centuries in which the light was certainly not that of noon-day. Yet, with all this, who doubts that progression is Nature's law-that we have progressed-that we shall continue so to do, however undulating or indirect the road? To apply these remarks to the subject that suggested them :-it may be observed, then, that Gothic architecture has had, for the last three or four centuries, a dark age of its own, from which it is now emerging; and that there needs only some decided impulse to be given to the public taste, in order not simply to restore what has been, but, in accordance with the law we have referred to, probably to enable us to make a still farther advance. Such an impulse, it is not unlikely, will be given by the restoration of the Temple Church.

And why the Temple in particular? it may be asked: the grand combinations of nave and aisles, choir and transepts, chapels and porches, lofty spires and mighty towers, into one magnificent whole, are already familiar to us in connection with our cathedrals: has the Temple Church anything to offer at once superior to these, and new? Certainly not: the answer is, that, for the first time, we see in it what a Gothic building really was a structure as pre-eminent for its rich harmonies of colour as for its beauty of architectural detail and grandeur of architectural design. Let those who have not seen the Temple think what such decorations must have been in the hands of the authors of our cathedrals to be worthy of both, and they will scarcely overrate the value of what the Benchers of the Temple have just restored to us, with a truly princely liberality.

The view we have given of the exterior renders description unnecessary; we will therefore only remark how strikingly accordant is its character with the character of its founders; who, accustomed to the union of fortress and church in the East, where it was most necessary that they should be at all times prepared to defend themselves from the Saracens, seem to have been unable or unwilling to lose the same associations, even when at home among their own Christian countrymen. Perhaps, too, there may have been a little pride in the matter: they were not disinclined to remind those countrymen of what they had done, and were, at the period of the erection, still doing for the cause of Christ, as they deemed it. To examine the castern front, the only front the church possesses, the spectator must pass round the pile of buildings that is seen in our engraving thrusting itself upon the oblong portion and obstructing the view. Before we leave the exterior, we must notice the differences of style which prevail in the Rotunda and the Chancel-differences which are connected with a feature of the Temple Church that makes it one of the most interesting and valuable structures we possess, apart from any other attractions. "No building in existence," says Mr. Cottingham, "so completely develops the gradual and delicate advance of the pointed style over the Norman as this church, being commenced in the latter, and finished in the highest perfection of the former :" already, in this exterior, and more particularly in the comparative lightness of those Norman windows, we can trace one of the stages of the advance. We now descend the steps of the porch, that strange, low, shut-in corner which forms the principal entrance-grown, however, larger-looking of late; and the deeply recessed, broad, semicircular Norman doorway is before us, with its foliated

capitals and other carved ornaments, exhibiting another stage in the architectural progress. Most elaborately rich and beautiful it is, too, with its numerous pillars below, and circular wreaths above, its sculptured heads and half figures, where, mingled together, we see kings and queens, and pious monks at prayer. It is often thought, by those best qualified to appreciate the spirit in which our ecclesiastical artists worked, that in all they did there was a higher object than that of merely fulfilling the ordinary requisitions of art, even though that were so admirably accomplished. What, for instance, can be finer than the entrance through this low and comparatively dark porch into the light and airy upward sweep of the Rotunda, with the vista opening beyond through the chancel? How it in every way enhances them, and more particularly in size, the precise feature which it was most desirable to enhance.* But was this all? Had not the architect a still greater design in view when he built this lowly porch? did he not desire to suggest that lowliness of spirit with which man should enter the house of his Maker-was it not an emphatic direction to the haughty and stiffnecked, the ambitious and the powerful, that they were all as nothing herethat they must stoop in spirit as they passed through this gateway? Above all, was it not to remind them to whom all the splendour beyond was dedicated-that the lofty arches and fretted roof were His, not theirs-that if their hearts swelled, it should be with penitence, and hope, and reverential love, not with vain selfgratulation?

But it is time we enter; and as we do so, we may notice, in passing, with what admirable judgment the transition from the dull commonplace buildings of the neighbourhood, up to the scene of consummate splendour that surrounds the altar at the distant extremity, and which is already attracting our eyes towards it, has been managed: first, there is the richly-sculptured, but uncoloured and therefore quiet-looking gateway; next comes the Round, with the black marble pillars relieved against the light colour of the surrounding walls, the single painted window facing us as we look upwards, and the various-coloured roof with its light blue cinquefoils spotting the delicate ground all over it, the deep red borders following and marking the airy play of the groinings, and the central ornament with its large blue flowers and gilded boss set in a circular frame-work of decoration; lastly, there is the view onward into the chancel, where the roof, thrown into such fine perspective, draws the eye unresistingly along a maze of the most delicately beautiful but glowing hues, which scem, at every fresh crossing of the arches, to grow more and more intense: it is hard to resist the impulse of at once stepping forward and throwing one's self into it, to luxuriate heart and soul on so novel and captivating a scene; but it is better to proceed regularly : we will first examine what is immediately about us. We are in the far-famed Round, and shall find it no difficult matter to pause awhile.

In our former paper on the Temple Church† we gave an engraving of the valuable and well-known effigies preserved in it. These had become so greatly injured by time, neglect, and by attentions of a kind infinitely worse than neglect,

* Dimensions of the church: Rotunda, 58 feet in diameter; Chancel, 82 feet in length, 58 in width, 37 in height.

that all their minute and beautiful details of sculpture and costume were lost; and they were also extensively mutilated and fractured; in consequence, it was difficult to determine what could be done with them in the recent restoration. It was painful to see them in so unworthy a state, and at the same time it was feared they were too far gone for any process of re-edification. Mr. Edward Richardson, however, a sculptor, undertook to experimentalize on the worst-and perhaps originally the most beautiful of the figures: the one here on the right, nearest the central walk, of the second pair. Setting out with the principle of adhering rigidly to the idea of restoration of that which could be proved to have existed-not of making what he might fancy ought to have existed--he determined, as he has kindly explained to us, to remove no portion of the surface, however isolated or small, except in extreme cases of necessity, and that he would supply none of the missing parts except on the most precise authority drawn from the effigies themselves: which he hoped to find. He set to work in the following manner :-First, with a finely-pointed tool he removed the crust of paint, whitewash, and dirt that enveloped the effigy, which in parts was a quarter of an inch thick; the tediousness of this operation may be judged when we state that the surface he was so careful not to injure was more like a honeycomb in many parts than any surface that had been originally smooth. He now found, as he had anticipated, ample evidence of the character of those little but valuable points of costume and expression which had been unintelligible before. The next thing was to secure the original surface from further decay (to which the exposure to air would have made it peculiarly liable), by forcing into the stone some chemical preparation, which hardened in the pores. All the minute holes were now stopped with a cement which perfectly imitated the material of the effigy; the artist, as he well expresses it, working in this manner from “surface to surface" over the whole. There remained but to add the missing portions, which, among others, included the lower part of the legs and feet: this was done in the same material as the effigy, and joined by the cement. The result may be told by the order issued by the Benchers to Mr. Richardson, to restore the whole of the effigies; or, still better, in the words of an eminent architect, who observed, when he beheld it in its present state, "The public will never believe that this has been a mere restoration."* Thus these effigies, which are the best authorities we possess for military costume from the reign of Stephen to that of Henry III.—which are as works of art so surprising, that one of our greatest sculptors said the other day he could not understand how they could have been executed in that period-and which, lastly, are so interesting in their connection with the early history of the building, and with that greater history in which some of them at least figured so conspicuously, are restored to us in their habits as they lived for there is no doubt whatever that such representations were accurately imitated from the countenance, figure, and garb of the originals. One only exception has to be made-absence of colour. It was discovered in the process of restoration, that the figures had been all more or less painted; some only slightly, so as to relieve the sculpture, but one of them, the effigy of William Pembroke the younger, was richly coloured throughout, having a surcoat of

* Mr. Richardson is preparing for publication elaborate drawings of the effigies in their restored state.