The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte | Page 5

a soldier, a statesman, an organizer, a
politician. In all he was undeniably great. But men will always like to
know something about him as a man. Can he stand that ordeal? These
volumes will answer that question. They are written by one who joined
the First Consul at the Hospice on Mt. St. Bernard, on his way to
Marengo, in June, 1800, and who was with him as his chief personal
attendant, day and night, never leaving him "any more than his

shadow" (eight days only) excepted until that eventful day, fourteen
years later, when, laying aside the sceptre of the greatest empire the
world had known for seventeen centuries, he walked down the
horseshoe steps at Fontainebleau in the presence of the soldiers whom
he had led to victory from Madrid to Moscow, once more a private
citizen.
That men of Anglo-Saxon speech may have an opportunity to see and
judge the Emperor from "close at hand," and view him as he appeared
in the eyes of his personal attendants, these volumes have been
translated, and are now submitted to the public. Though the remark of
Frederick the Great that "No man is a hero to his valet" is not altogether
borne out in this instance, still it will be seen that there is here nothing
of that "divinity which doth hedge a king." In these volumes Napoleon
appears as a man, a very great man, still a mere man, not, a demigod.
Their perusal will doubtless lead to a truer conception of his character,
as manifested both in his good and in his evil traits. The former were
natural to him; the latter were often produced by the exceptional
circumstances which surrounded him, and the extraordinary
temptations to which he was subjected.
Certainly a truer and fuller light is cast by these volumes, upon the
colossal figure which will always remain one of the most interesting
studies in all human history.
THE TRANSLATOR.

INTRODUCTION.
By Constant.
The career of a man compelled to make his own way, who is not an
artisan or in some trade, does not usually begin till he is about twenty
years of age. Till then he vegetates, uncertain of his future, neither
having, nor being able to have, any well-defined purpose. It is only
when he has arrived at the full development of his powers, and his

character and bent of mind are shown, that he can determine his
profession or calling. Not till then does he know himself, and see his
way open before him. In fact, it is only then that he begins to live.
Reasoning in this manner, my life from my twentieth year has been
thirty years, which can be divided into equal parts, so far as days and
months are counted, but very unequal parts, considering the events
which transpired in each of those two periods of my life.
Attached to the person of the Emperor Napoleon for fifteen years, I
have seen all the men, and witnessed all the important events, which
centered around him. I have seen far more than that; for I have had
under my eyes all the circumstances of his life, the least as well as the
greatest, the most secret as well as those which are known to history,--I
have had, I repeat, incessantly under my eyes the man whose name,
solitary and alone, fills the most glorious pages of our history. Fifteen
years I followed him in his travels and his campaigns, was at his court,
and saw him in the privacy of his family. Whatever step he wished to
take, whatever order he gave, it was necessarily very difficult for the
Emperor not to admit me, even though involuntarily, into his
confidence; so that without desiring it, I have more than once found
myself in the possession of secrets I should have preferred not to know.
What wonderful things happened during those fifteen years! Those near
the Emperor lived as if in the center of a whirlwind; and so quick was
the succession of overwhelming events, that one felt dazed, as it were,
and if he wished to pause and fix his attention for a moment, there
instantly came, like another flood, a succession of events which carried
him along with them without giving him time to fix his thoughts.
Succeeding these times of activity which made one's brain whirl, there
came to me the most absolute repose in an isolated retreat where I
passed another interval of fifteen years after leaving the Emperor. But
what a contrast! To those who have lived, like myself, amid the
conquests and wonders of the Empire, what is left to-day? If the
strength of our manhood was passed amid the bustle of years so short,
yet so fully occupied, our careers were sufficiently