The Emperor said that, on the opening of the campaign at Dresden, he lost two men who were extremely valuable to him, and in the most foolish manner in the world: these were Bessieres and Duroc. In mentioning the circumstance, the Emperor now affected a stoicism which was visibly not natural to him. When he went to see Duroc, after he had received his mortal wound, he attempted to hold out some hopes to him; but Duroc, who did not deceive himself, only replied by begging him to order opium to be given to him. The Emperor, excessively affected, could not venture to remain long with him, and tore himself from this distressing spectacle.
One of the company then reminded the Emperor that, on leaving Duroc, he went and walked up and down by himself before his tent: no one durst accost him. But, some essential measures being requisite against the following day, some one at length ventured to ask him where the battery of the guard was to be placed. “Ask me nothing till to-morrow,” was the Emperor’s answer.
At this recollection, the Emperor, with a marked effort, began abruptly to talk of something else.
Duroc was one of those persons whose value is never known till they are lost: this was, after his death, the common expression of the Court and City, and the unanimous sentiment every where.
He was a native of Nancy, in the department of La Meurthe. The origin of his fortune has been related above. Napoleon found him in the train at the siege of Toulon, and immediately interested himself for him. His attachment to him increased every day, and it might be said that they never more separated. I have elsewhere mentioned that I have heard the Emperor say that, throughout his career, Duroc was the only person who had possessed his unreserved confidence, and to whom he could freely unburden his mind. Duroc was not a brilliant character; but he possessed an excellent judgment, and he rendered essential services, which, owing to their nature as well as to his reserve, were little heard of.
Duroc loved the Emperor for himself: it was rather to the individual, personally, that he was attached, than to the monarch. In being made the confidant of his prince’s feeling, he had acquired the art, and perhaps the right, of mitigating and directing them. How often has he whispered to people struck with consternation by the anger of the Emperor:—“Let him have his way: he speaks from his feelings, not according to his judgment; nor as he will act to-morrow.” What a servant! what a friend! what a treasure! How many storms he has soothed! how many rash orders, given in the moment of irritation, has he omitted to execute, knowing that his master would thank him the next day for the omission! The Emperor had accommodated himself to this sort of tacit arrangement; and on that account gave way the more readily to those violent bursts of temper, which relieve by the vent they afford to the passions.
Duroc died in the most deplorable manner, at a very critical moment; his death was another of the fatalities of Napoleon’s career.
The day after the battle of Wurzen, towards evening, the skirmish of Reichenbach had just ended, the firing had ceased. Duroc was on the top of an eminence, apart from the troops, conversing with General Kirchner, and observing the retreat of the last ranks of the enemy. A piece was levelled at this glittering group, and the fatal ball killed both the generals.[[30]]
Duroc had more influence over the Emperor’s resolutions than is imagined. His death was probably, in this respect, a national calamity. There is reason to think that, if he had survived, the armistice of Dresden, which ruined us, would not have taken place; we should have pushed on to the Oder, and beyond it. The enemy would then have instantly acceded to peace, and we should have escaped their machinations, their intrigues, and, above all, the base and atrocious perfidy of the Austrian Cabinet, which has ended in our destruction.
At a subsequent period Duroc might still have exerted an influence over other great events, and probably changed the face of affairs. Finally, even at a later conjuncture, at the time of Napoleon’s fall, he would never have separated his destiny from that of the Emperor: he would have been with us at St. Helena; and this aid alone would have sufficed to counterbalance all the horrible vexations with which Napoleon was studiously oppressed.