rrival in Paris, General
Lafayette had the kindness to send us an invitation; but we were
deterred from going for sometime, by the indisposition of one of the
family. In the autumn of 1826, I went, however, alone; in the spring I
went again, carrying Mrs. ---- with me; and I have now just returned from
a third visit, in which I went with my wife, accompanied by one or two
more of the family.

It is about twenty-seven miles from Paris to Rosay, a small town that is
a league from the castle. This is not a post-route, the great road
ending at Rosay, and we were obliged to go the whole distance with the
same horses. Paris is left by the Boulevard de la Bastille, the Barriere
du Trone, and the chateau and woods of Vincennes. The second time I went
into Brie, it was with the General himself, and in his own carriage. He
showed me a small pavilion that is still standing in a garden near the
old site of the Bastille, and which he told me, once belonged to the
hotel that Beaumarchais inhabited, when in his glory, and in which
pavilion this witty writer was accustomed to work. The roof was topped
by a vane to show which way the wind blew; and, in pure _fanfaronnade_,
or to manifest his contempt for principles, the author of "Figaro" had
caused a large copper pen to do the duty of a weathercock; and there it
stands to this day, a curious memorial equally of his wit and of his
audacity.

At the Barriere du Trone the General pointed out to me the spot where
two of his female connexions suffered under the guillotine during the
Reign of Terror. On one occasion, in passing, we entered the Castle of
Vincennes, which is a sort of citadel for Paris, and which has served
for a state prison since the destruction of the Bastille. Almost all of
these strong old places were formerly the residences of the kings, or of
great nobles, the times requiring that they should live constantly
protected by ditches and walls.

Vincennes, like the Tower of London, is a collection of old buildings,
enclosed within a wall, and surrounded by a ditch. The latter, however,
is dry. The most curious of the structures, and the one which gives the
place its picturesque appearance, in the distance, is a cluster of
exceedingly slender, tall, round towers, in which the prisoners are
usually confined, and which is the _donjon_ of the hold. This building,
which contains many vaulted rooms piled on each other, was formerly the
royal abode; and it has, even now, a ditch