In the grounds are Guy’s and Cæsar’s Towers, and in one of the greenhouses we saw the celebrated Warwick Vase, which was found in the bottom of a lake in Rome, as long ago as 1770, I think. The Earl and family live here a part of the year, but are now in London. This estate must bring the Earl quite a revenue, as from fifty to one hundred persons visit it every day, and each one leaves a shilling or more.
Near the castle gate is the house where Walter Savage Landor was born, and this whole Warwickshire is rich in the genius it has given to the world. Green and Drayton opened their eyes on its illustrious soil, and George Eliot, whose talent has enriched this age, here first saw light. How can one feel like a common mortal, or lead an everyday life in a country like this, so hallowed with historic and artistic associations.
‘Step out of the past now into the present,’ said F., ‘and I will tell you a story of Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary. Did I ever tell it to you?’
‘I do not recollect any such story that you ever told. Was it a good one?’
‘O yes!’
‘Then you never told it.’ I did not get the story.
Not far from the castle is a cathedral of considerable pretensions, after visiting which, we were driven back to Leamington, having spent a most delightful day. Finding that an express train would get us to London to-night, we paid our bills, took our bags, bade good-by to the pretty Spa and our pleasant landlady, and were soon off.