opening through
dreamy vistas of trees into what seems immeasurable distance, the force of
the soliloquy which Shakespeare puts into the mouth of the dying old
king-maker, as he lies ebreathing out his soul in the dust and blood of
the battlefield....

I have described the grounds first, but, in fact, we did not look at them
first, but went into the house where we saw not only all the state rooms,
but, through the kindness of the noble proprietor, many of those which are
not commonly exhibited; a bewildering display of magnificent apartments,
pictures, gems, vases, arms and armor, antiques, all, in short, that the
wealth of a princely and powerful family had for centuries been
accumulating.

The great hall of the castle is sixty-two feet in length and forty in
breadth, ornamented with a richly carved Gothic roof, in which figures
largely the family cognizance of the bear and ragged staff. There is a
succession of shields, on which are emblazoned the quarterings of
successive Earls of Warwick. The sides of the wall are ornamented with
lances, corselets, shields, helmets, and complete suits of armor,
regularly arranged as in an armory.

Here we saw the helmet of Cromwell, a most venerable relic. Before the
great, cavernous fireplace was piled up on a sled a quantity of yew-tree
wood. The rude simplicity of thus arranging it on the polished floor of
this magnificent apartment struck me as quite singular. I suppose it is a
continuation of some ancient custom.

Opening from this apartment on either side are suites of rooms, the whole
series being three hundred and thirty-three feet in length. These rooms
are all hung with pictures, and studded with antiques and curiosities of
immense value. There is, first, the red drawing-room, and then the cedar
drawing-room, then the gilt drawing-room, the state bedroom, the boudoir,
etc., etc., hung with pictures by Vandyke, Rubens, Guido, Sir Joshua
Reynolds, Paul Veronese, any one of which would require days of study.

I walked to one of the windows of these lordly apartments, and while the
company were examining buhl cabinets, and all other deliciousness of the
place, I looked down the old gray walls into the amber waters of the Avon,
which flows at their base, and thought that the most beautiful of all was
without. There is a tiny fall that crosses the river just above here,
whose waters turn the wheels of an old mossy mill, where for centuries the
family grain has been ground.