But my time was not yet.  My friends advised, nay, besought me to leave Marseilles.  Towards the end of this year (1869) I took their advice, and retired to a small property I chanced to have in the centre of the Landes.  This place being dry, and somewhat remote, was peculiarly suitable for watching the growth of great problems with a mind unbiassed by any knowledge of facts.  I saw the Franco-German question grow, and I foresaw how it would end.  I wrote to THIERS, and told him all about it.  When the war broke out I mounted my stilts, and cautiously made my way across the untrodden track, following my Destiny.  I had predicted the downfall of the Empire, and, in its last gasp, the Empire strove to wither me.  Proceedings had been commenced, when Sedan put an end to them.

At this epoch France was on her knees, beaten down by the German hand, her eyes blind with blood and tears.  One thing alone could cheer her.  I could do it, and I did.  I applied for Letters of Naturalisation.  Some weeks later I became a French citizen, and received a letter from M. ADOLPH CREMIEUX, then Minister of Justice, and never suspected of being a wag.  He wrote:  “Your application for Naturalisation in the midst of our great disasters, is for me the signal of a new life for us.  A country which in the midst of such catastrophes recruits citizens like you, is not to be despaired of.”

Years after, THIERS, then President of the Republic, said, “I never will forget that you became a Frenchman in the time of our misfortunes.”  EDMUND ABOUT picturesquely said, “Il s’est fait naturaliser vaincu.” BISMARCK has told me that the Emperor WILLIAM, then at Versailles, in the first flush of triumph at touch on his brow of the Imperial diadem, hearing of the event through the capturing of a balloon despatched with the news to dolorous Paris, passed a sleepless night.

“I fear me” he said, “all will now be lost.”

“Not at all, your Majesty,” said BISMARCK, affecting an indifference he assures me he did not feel.  “There is not even a Frenchman the more.  They have lost an Emperor and gained VAN DE BLOWITZOWN TROMP. Ce met egal.”

“Not quite,” said the Emperor, with subtle flattery.  The Emperor WILLIAM, though he had his failings, was a keen judge of the comparative value of men.

The limits of this article compel me to glance hastily over succeeding epochs in a career with the main drift of which the civilised world is already familiar.  After saving Marseilles to the Republic, by a series of actions alternating between desperate valour and brilliant strategy, I went to Paris to report on the great event.  Calling on the official entrusted with the duty of considering claims to decorations, I began at once by saying that my own name must not be taken into consideration.

“Let my name,” I said, gently but firmly, “be scored out in the proposed list of decorations.”

“Mais, Monsieur” he said, “there is no such list.”