ed in some dreadful deed of
blood, on which the vulgar and superstitious admiration of excitement of
those days delighted to enlarge. We shall now turn to the castle of
Bazoche, where, in former days, dukes, counts and barons assembled every
September with their hunting-train, to enjoy the pleasures of _la grande
chasse_ and all its attendant revelry. The chateau in later years
belonged to the renowned engineer, Sebastian-le-Pretre, Marechal de
Vauban, who was a native of Le Morvan, and born in 1633 in the village
of St. Leger de Foucheret. The humble roof under which this celebrated
man first saw the light is now inhabited by a _sabot_-maker.

Brought up, like Henry IV., amongst the peasants of his native
province, like him he loved the remembrance of all connected with it and
them; and when he died in Paris (1707), he desired that he might be
buried at his beloved Chateau de Bazoche, where he had so often,
sauntering under the noble _platanes_, sought and found relaxation from
the turmoil and fatigue of a soldier's life, and forgotten the
jealousies and injustice of the court. In the southern part of the
building is the gallant old veteran's sleeping apartment--there still
stands his bed: and his armour, with several swords and other articles
which belonged to him, are still preserved. On the rampart, now probably
silent for ever, are four pieces of cannon of large calibre, which
thundered at the siege of Philipsburg, and were subsequently presented
to the Marshal by Monseigneur, the brother of Louis XIV.

Great were the works accomplished by the genius and perseverance of this
famous general--famous, not only in his own profession, but as one of
the honest characters of an age when honesty was rare indeed. He
improved and perfected the defences of three hundred towns, and entirely
constructed the fortifications of thirty-three others; was present at
one hundred and forty battles, and conducted fifty-three sieges. The
body of this eminent man was, in literal compliance with his orders,
interred in a black marble tomb, under the damp flagstones of the castle
chapel; but his heart, in melancholy violation of the spirit which
dictated them, is enclosed in a monument, surmounted by his bust, in the
church of the Hotel des Invalides. Opposite to it is the tomb of
Turenne, and under the same roof at last repose the mortal remains of
Napoleon. Could their spirits perambulate this church at the hour when
the dead only are sa