The garden, formed out of what once was a bastion, on the suburb side of the castle, was laid out in walks, and planted with trees. It appears, that, till a period not long previous to the downfall of the Bastile, such prisoners as were not confined for flagitious crimes, or for the express purpose of being rendered supremely wretched, were permitted to walk there. To the last governor, M. de Launay, they were indebted for being deprived of this privilege. To increase his already enormous emoluments, he let it to a gardener, and he had interest enough with the minister to obtain his sanction for this encroachment on the scanty comforts of the prisoners—an order was issued by which they were excluded from it. Nor was this all, or the worst. The platforms, along the summit of the towers and connecting curtains, had hitherto afforded a pleasant and airy walk; but these, too, were shut up, at his desire, partly to save trouble to those who watched the prisoners, and partly to diminish the chance of conversation between the former and the latter. Such conduct is, however, not strange in the man who could meet the complaints of his oppressed inmates with obscenely vulgar language; and could add, that “people either ought not to put themselves in the way of being sent to the Bastile, or ought to know how to suffer when they got there.” Humanity deplores his subsequent fate, and execrates the brutality of his murderers; but, as far as regards him personally, M. de Launay appears to have been deserving of very little respect. The only remaining spot in which exercise could be taken was the principal court. “The walls which enclose it,” says M. Linguet, “are more than a hundred feet high, without windows; so that, in fact, it is a large well, where the cold is unbearable in winter, because the north-east wind pours into it, and in summer the heat is no less so, because, there being no circulation of air, the sun makes an absolute oven of it. This is the sole lyceum where such of the prisoners as have permission (for all do not have it) can, each in his turn, for a few moments in the day, disencumber their lungs from the pestilential air of their dwelling.” But even this poor gratification, which seldom extended to an hour, was considerably abridged by circumstances. Any increase in the number of prisoners diminished the time which was allotted. Whenever, as was frequently the case, any stranger entered the court, the prisoner was obliged to hurry into a narrow passage, called the Cabinet, and shut himself in closely, that he might not be seen. M. Linguet states, that three quarters of an hour was often wasted in these compulsory retreats to the Cabinet. If they were not promptly made, or the captive displayed any curiosity, the least penalty inflicted was confining the delinquent within the limits of his cell.