CHAPTER IX.

Coventry; Reflections; Kenilworth Castle; Its warder; The ruins; Queen Elizabeth's visit; Earl of Leicester; His countess; Imprisonment; Escape; Developements; Departure of Queen Elizabeth; Ancient chimney-piece; Initials.

THE tourist, while wending his way through the streets of so ancient a city as Coventry, examining ruins, buildings, and places which have stood the test of time for upwards of twelve hundred years; or, of any ancient city in the Old World, has those deep and almost overpowering reflections on the past, which, on visiting a modern built city, ceases to have that feeling which can be imagined, but not described; and it is only those who have realized such scenes, can have those deep reflections which take him from grovelling and sickening earth to those bright and glorious regions, where the dull winter of time clouds the impatient soul no more. By moonlight, such scenes have, if possible, double the effect on a mind given to calm, deep and holy contemplation. The tourist should give two days of his time in rambling through old Coventry, the favourite city of Queen Elizabeth, on whose loyalty she depended and confided more than any other place, in every emergency during her reign. In its vicinity are many places of historical note. Four miles from Coventry stands the neat and quiet village of Kenilworth; the road is through a picturesque, undulating, highly cultivated country, and in the village stands the frowning ruins of the once celebrated Castle of Kenilworth, so beautifully described by the late Sir Walter Scott. A two horse coach runs to Kenilworth from Coventry every two hours, fare one shilling; but wishing to extend my ride to Warwick Castle, &c., the polite host of the "King's Head,” who is strongly attached to Americans, tendered me the loan of a neat barouche and pair, provided I could procure a man to act as coachman and guide. In this arrangement I had no trouble, and early of a beautiful morning I set out, and in half an hour the castle towers were in full view; on arriving at the porter's lodge, my guide gave a loud summons

at the ponderous gate, which was answered by its swinging back on its immense hinges, showing a veteran warder of the last century, dressed in the ancient costume of Queen Elizabeth's men-atarms; on stating my wish to visit the ruins, he, bowing, and with a sinile, called his grand-daughter to conduct me wherever I desired to go, at the same time regretting his advanced age would not allow him to attend me in person. The scene around me was very imposing while gazing on those frowning walls within which Elizabeth held her splendid court for two weeks, as the guest of the princely Earl of Leicester. There yet remained the bow window in the grand saloon, (now covered with running ivy,) where stood the proud queen and courtly earl, her favourite, looking down on the grand tournament given on the occasion, and in the distance, beyond the ancient walls which defended the castle, was the silvery artificial lake, over which the queen, as Lady of the Lake, was paddled in a sumptuous, unique car, similar to that of Queen Cleopatra. There, the Eden-like fairy gardens, and there, the spot where Leicester knelt to Elizabeth, and there, the silvery rays of the pale orb of night could not penetrate for the deep umbrage of the fragrant exotics around, to supplicate her royal hand in marriage, and the spot where the late imprisoned wife of the cruel earl rushed with frenzy between them, crying-" Beware!"

The cell under the south wing of the castle was shown me, where Prince Edward was held a prisoner, and from which he escaped. His writing is still seen on the walls, with some amusing charcoal sketches, showing he was something of an artist.-After so recently having perused Scott's graphic sketch of the time Elizabeth held her court for a season at this once noted castle, and while standing on one of its crumbling towers, glancing my eyes over and around those once enchanting grounds, a still small voice seemed to whisper from the ivy-clad walls around me-" What is life but a span-a shadow!" Yes, a shadow thought I, for where are now all those courtly dames and lords who once roamed in splendid array through these now deserted halls, where the owl and the bat hold their nightly revels. And where the courtly knights with shield and spear at rest, who once tilted in burnished armour, in yon broad court below, now amidst the rank and noxious weeds, a hiding place for the hissing snake and burrowing dormouse. Echo answers from the deserted halls and crumbling and fallen towers, and from the deep vaults beneath-" Where ! where! where !"

At the left, on entering the gateway leading to the grand courtyard of the Castle, through which Elizabeth and her courtly train passed, stands an ancient stone building, in perfect preservation, part of which is occupied at times by Lord Clarendon, the present owner of Kenilworth, and is where the Earl of Leicester imprisoned

his beautiful wife, previous to Queen Elizabeth's visit at the castle, in order to keep the queen ignorant of his marriage, which was private, and until he had obtained the queen's hand in marriage while at the castle, whose undying and pure love for her favourite, the earl, was the sole inducement for her consenting to be his guest for a season. The countess contrived to make her escape from the chamber in which she was confined by the earl, and while roaming at night through the gardens to effect her escape over the walls or private gate, came unexpectedly into the presence of the queen, at whose feet was kneeling her husband, imploring her to name the happy day when she could raise him to share her throne. This discovery caused the abrupt departure of the queen and court from the castle, the disgrace of the earl, and the cause of Elizabeth remaining without a partner to share and defend her in those trying scenes during the latter part of her life.

I was admitted into one of the large rooms of this building, and permitted to seat myself in the very ancient chair in which Queen Elizabeth sat while holding a private interview in that room with the countess, the earl's wife, the morning after the discovery in the gardens, as mentioned. The chimney-piece in this room is truly a curiosity. The following letters were carved on it by order of the queen, the day she took her departure from the castle -what they mean, I could not ascertain-viz:

R. L. D. R. O. Y. T. I. T. L. O. Y. A. L. L.

CHAPTER X.

Guy's Cliff; Subterranean Passages; Chapel; Statue of Sir Guy; His Entombment; Chapel in the Rock; Monk's Cells; The Mansion; Its Furniture and Paintings; Warwick Castle, its magnificence; Hall of Armour; Queen Anne's Bed-room; Saloons; Furniture; Paintings; Tower; Stratford; Shakspeare's House; His Tomb; Ancient Church; The Grand Organ; Impromptu; Churchyard; King's Head Hotel.

FOUR miles from Kenilworth stands, on the banks of the placid Avon, the splendid castle of Warwick, in the beautiful town of that name. One mile before arriving at Warwick, on the left, is the much celebrated Guy's Cliff, so noted in the feudal wars. The ancient mansion stands some hundreds of yards from the roadside, which is seen through a living picturesque archway of stately elms, whose branching limbs have been made to meet, forming the arch the whole distance, which has a very pleasing effect from the road. The Cliff is a soft white rock, rising from the romantic banks of the Avon, eighty feet perpendicular, and is, if I may be allowed the expression, catacombed, or made into compartments, which have private or secret entrances from the ancient edifice which surmounts it, and built by Sir Guy, so noted in the feudal times for his mighty prowess in battle during those bloody wars which shook the throne of England. From the Cliff, on an eminence is seen the monument to the memory of the Earl of Cornwall, who lies beneath, the favourite minister of Edward the Second, who was beheaded by the Barons. The walk to it is highly romantic, and from that point there is a very extensive view of the beautiful landscape around, for miles, including the winding Avon.

The mansion is rich in antique furniture and choice old paintings; the "Crane and Hawks," is of exquisite finish, by Rubens. The old harpsichord still retains its appropriate place, but much out of tune. In the chapel stands the statue of Sir Guy, chiselled from life, eight feet in height—a giant in those days, as he fully proved himself in battle. A secret passage leads from this chapel

to one beneath, hewn out of the cliff; the steps leading to it are circuitous, made in the rock, and very much worn by the monks of old. Adjoining the subterranean chapel are the cloisters, and above them, small square apartments for sleeping, and prisons for torture. Communications cut in the rock are also made from the river-side to these dungeons, and from them to the mansion above, called the secret passages. In passing through them, lights were necessary, the steps being much worn in the soft stone. A cave is cut in the side of the cliff, near the river, in which Sir Guy entombed himself for three years, the cause never explained, but, tradition says, for disappointment in love. Near this cave is a spring of pure running water, under shelter of the rocks, to which is affixed an iron cup, with chain attached, as used by Sir Guy centuries ago, and from which all who visit the Cliff can take a cooling draught. But few Americans have ever taken the trouble to stop and visit the Cliff, on their way to Warwick Castle, and walk through its beautiful gardens, including its extensive park, filled with deer. The ancient and ponderous gateway is worth stopping to admire for its unique architecture and great solidity, made for the times of old. The neat and busy town of Warwick being but one mile from Guy's Cliff, I was soon rapidly going through its cleanly and well-paved streets, towards its castle gate. At the side of the massive gate is the warder's lodge, and giving a summons with the large iron knocker, the gate was opened by the veteran warder, dressed in the style of the fifteenth century, who, with bow and smile that would have done credit to a courtier in Queen Anne's time, welcomed me to the castle, and inviting me into the lodge on the left of the gateway, exhibited to me the Earl of Warwick's punch-bowl, of composition, weighing eight hundred and ten pounds, and holding one hundred and ten gallons. To fill this bowl with punch requires one hundred pounds of sugar, eighteen gallons of rum, and eighteen gallons of brandy. It was filled two years previous, on the occasion of Lord Brooke taking possession of the castle. Two gentlemen, with myself, got into this bowl, and were not incommoded. On running an iron bar over the edge of the bowl, it produces a deafening gong sound, which can be heard all over the castle, a distance of three hundred

yards. The sword of the late Earl is five feet in length, weighing twenty pounds; his shield thirty pounds; breast-plate fifty-six pounds; helmet seven pounds; his chain armour of great weight and beautiful workmanship; tilting-pole ten feet; and walking cane nine feet in length, and large in proportion. The Earl of Warwick's horse, whose iron armour was hanging in the room, must have been of prodigious size and strength, to have carried such enormous weight in battle; such animals are scarce in these days, as well as such men as the late Earl, or Sir Guy of Warwick.