During Shakspeare’s life Warwick was in the possession of Greville, the friend of Sir Philip Sidney, and patron of arts and letters.  It is not, therefore, improbable that Shakspeare might, in his times, often have been admitted to wander through the magnificent grounds, and it is more than probable that the sight of these majestic cedars might have suggested the noble image in this soliloquy.  It is only about eight miles from Stratford, within the fair limits of a comfortable pedestrian excursion, and certainly could not but have been an object of deep interest to such a mind as his.

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 I learned what the buff coat is, which had so often puzzled me in reading Scott’s descriptions, as there were several hanging up here.  It seemed to be a loose doublet of chamois leather, which was worn under the armor, and protected the body from its harshness.

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 suits 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 bed room, the boudoir, &c., &c., hung with pictures by Vandyke, Rubens, Guido, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Paul Veronese, any one of which would require days of study; of course, the casual glance that one could give them in a rapid survey would not amount to much.

We were shown one table of gems and lapis lazuli, which cost what would be reckoned a comfortable fortune in New England.  For matters of this kind I have little sympathy.  The canvas, made vivid by the soul of an inspired artist, tells me something of God’s power in creating that soul; but a table of gems is in no wise interesting to me, except so far as it is pretty in itself.