The whole castle, especially the interior, has gone through a complete restoration, for it had been plundered and gutted by the Revolutionists. The tapestries that now cover the walls were collected from various places. The furniture, to a large extent modern, is a clumsy imitation of old work; there are, however, some fine ancient cabinets. In this castle was confined for a while Abd-el-Kader. In 1848 I visited him there several times. He had with him a suite and his wives, all insensible to the stateliness of the castle and the glorious panorama from the windows. They lounged about the rooms silent and smoking, sulky, without occupation and without interests. Their habits were so dirty that the tapestries and rich furniture had all to be removed. Abd-el-Kader had maintained a long and gallant resistance against the French, and when he surrendered to the Duc d’Aumale and General Lamorcière, it was on the stipulation that he should be allowed to retire in freedom to Egypt or into Syria. The terms were accepted and broken. He was removed a prisoner to Toulon, then to Pau, and in November, 1848, he was transferred to Amboise. Napoleon III released him in 1852, and he finally settled in Damascus. In the terrible massacre of the Christians at Damascus in the summer of 1860, by Turks and Druses, Abd-el-Kader acted with such energy to protect the Christians that the Emperor of the French sent him the gold cross of the Legion of Honour. Possibly enough he may have been moved to this intervention on behalf of the Christians by recollecting the kindness that was shown him in his captivity by both English and French residents at Pau, sending him fruit and flowers for the ladies of his harem. It was during his imprisonment at Toulon that Thackeray wrote his stirring lines:-- “No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert life for thee; No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free; Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain, Shatter against the cage the wing thou ne’er mayst spread again. * * * * * “They gave him what he asked; from king to king he spake As one that plighted word and seal not knoweth how to break; ‘Let me pass from out my deserts, be’t mine own choice where to go, I brook no fettered life to live, a captive and a show.’ “And they promised and he trusted them, and proud and calm he came, Upon his black mare riding, girt with his sword of flame: Good steed, good sword, he rendered unto the Frankish throng; He knew them false and fickle--but a Prince’s word is strong. “How have they kept their promise? Turned they the vessel’s prow Upon Acre, Alexandria, as they have sworn e’en now? Not so: from Oran northwards the white sails gleam and glance, And the wild hawk of the desert is borne away to France.