with the stone effigy, in full armour, of Sir Iohn de Harrington, who is represented with his legs crossed; then passing through incised slabs and brasses to the more elaborate altar-tomb; and from this to the mural monument, where the figures are shown as kneeling, not recumbent; and lastly, to the period when the sculptured figures disappear altogether, and the portraits of the underlying dead give place to mere lettering setting forth the many virtues of the departed worthies.
A VAIN SEARCH Harrington Hall is another of the places that people, in a vain search after the original of Locksley Hall, have imagined might have stood for the poet's picture, presumably because of its proximity to Somersby, for, as far as the building goes, it affords no clue that "one can catch hold of." It is an old hall, and there the likeness appears to begin and end! In spite of Tennyson's disclaimer, I cannot but feel that, though no particular spot suggested Locksley Hall to him, it is quite possible, if not probable, that he may, consciously or unconsciously, have taken a bit from one place, and a bit from another, and have pieced them together so as to form a whole—a vague whole truly, but still a tangible whole.
To show how unknowingly such a thing may be done, I may mention that I once remember painting a mountain-and-river-scape that I fondly imagined I had evolved from my own brain. As I was at work on this an artist friend (with whom I had often painted in North Wales, our favourite sketching ground) chanced to look in for a smoke and a chat.
