I
begin to agree partly with the English, that we are not a people of
elegant manners. At all events there is sometimes a bare, hard, meagre
sort of deportment, especially in our women, that has not its parallel
elsewhere. But perhaps what sets off this kind of behavior, and brings
it into alto relievo, is the fact of such uncultivated persons travelling
abroad, and going to see sights that would not be interesting except to
people of some education and refinement.
We saw but little of the village of Kenilworth, passing through it
sidelong fashion, in the omnibus; but I learn that it has between three
and four thousand inhabitants, and is of immemorial antiquity. We saw a
few old, gabled, and timber-framed houses; but generally the town was of
modern aspect, although less so in the immediate vicinity of the castle
gate, across the road from which there was an inn, with bowling-greens,
and a little bunch of houses and shops. Apart from the high road there
is a gate-house, ancient, but in excellent repair, towered, turreted, and
battlemented, and looking like a castle in itself. Until Cromwell's
time, the entrance to the castle used to be beneath an arch that passed
through this structure; but the gate-house being granted to one of the
Parliament officers, he converted it into a residence, and apparently
added on a couple of gables, which now look quite as venerable as the
rest of the edifice. Admission within the outer grounds of the castle is
now obtained through a little wicket close beside the gate-house, at
which sat one or two old men, who touched their hats to us in humble
willingness to accept a fee.
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