Warwick 1840
Waterfall, Guy's Cliffe, near Warwick
Extracts from letters written to Emily Sellwood by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Warwick. 1840. I got into the third class of carriages in the train to
Leicester. It is a carriage entirely open, without seats, nothing but a rail or two
running across it, something like pens of cattle....Tho' we did not move very quickly,
yet it was liker flying than anything else....I learnt some curious lessons in
perspective, e.g. the two rails on the road were always drawn together with the greatest
rapidity. I stopt last night at Leicester, and came on here [to Warwick] this morning
by a slow mail. On driving into Warwick, by great chance I happened to have my glass in
my eye and perceived my friend, Edward FitzGerald, taking his walk on the pave" towards
Leamington. I stopt the coach, and he got up, and we drove to the George here, and had
an evening together. Kenilworth looked grand in the distance. I think of going over with
Fitz to-morrow. Warwick not to be seen till Saturday as the family are there. Almost
afraid I cannot stop as long, as it is very expensive being at an inn.
looked grand and black among its woods from the bridge this evening, a nightingale was
singing, and rooks were cawing, and there was moreover the noise of a waterfall.
London. I went thro' Warwick Castle. It is certainly a noble
specimen of old feudalism, and the views from the windows would be of unrivalled
loveliness if the river were only clearer. I and FitzGerald also [climbed] up Guy's
tower, and had "large prospect" of the surrounding country: but nothing pleased me
better on the whole than two paintings I saw in the castle: one, an Admiral van Tromp
by Rembrandt, the other Macchiavelli by Titian both wonderful pictures, but the last
grand beyond all words. We strayed about the gardens....Afterwards we went to
and saw Shakespeare's monument. I should not think it can be a good likeness.
That foolish fellow painted it white all over, and served poor Johnny Combe, who
lies on a monument near, in the same way. I suppose from a notion that so painted they
would look more classic, but the monuments all about were gilded and painted, and so
were theirs. By which fancy of M alone we have in all probability lost the colour
of Shakespeare's hair and eyes, which perhaps would do the world very little good
to know, but would have been a little satisfaction to poor physiognomists like
myself. We went also into the room where they say he was born. Every part of it
is scribbled over with names. I was seized with a sort of enthusiasm, and wrote mine,
tho' I was a little ashamed of it afterwards : yet the feeling was genuine at the time,
and I did homage with the rest. I forgot
.
We tumbled about the
ruins for three hours, but I was rather disappointed. I had expected to find them
larger and more august.
Source: Alfred Lord Tennyson: A Memoir (1897) by Hallam Tennyson
Castle Street, Warwick - card posted 1911
