learn at first hand what reforms were needed.

Five Kings of France died there (among them Charles VI, the mad king, and
Charles IX, haunted by the horrors of the massacre on St. Bartholomew's
eve), and one King of England, Harry Hotspur. King Charles V was born
there.

From the days of Louis XI the castle has been used as a state prison.
Henry of Navarre was once a prisoner there, and so was the Grand Condé,
and Diderot, and Mirabeau, and it was there that the young Duc d'Enghien
was shot by Napoleon's orders and to Napoleon's everlasting regret.

The castle is now (and has been for many years) an arsenal and school of
musketry, artillery, and other military services. Before its firing
squad perish many traitors to France, whose last glimpse of the country
they have betrayed is in the courtyard of this ancient castle.

The vicinity is very lovely. The Bois de Vincennes, on the edge of which
the castle stands, is scarcely inferior to the Bois de Boulogne in charm.
We used to go out there, not infrequently, for luncheon, which we ate in
a rustic summerhouse close to the edge of the lake, with many sociable
ducks and swans bearing us company and clamoring for bits of bread.

It would be hard to imagine anything more idyllic, more sylvan, on the
edge of a great city--anything more peaceful, restful, anywhere.

Yet the whole locality was, even then, a veritable camp of Mars--forts,
barracks, fields for maneuvers and for artillery practice, infantry
butts, rifle ranges, school of explosives; and what not.