Memoirs of the Empress Josephine, Vol. 1 of 2

by Madame de Rémusat

M. de Rémusat, utterly confounded at this speech, was quite unable to conceal his astonishment. “What!” he exclaimed, “you make such a proposal as that to me? I told the Emperor that I was the friend of M. d’André; you also know that, and you would have me betray him, give him up, and that by means of his wife, who has trusted me!” Savary was astonished, in his turn, at the indignation of M. de Rémusat. “What folly!” said he. “Take care you do not spoil your luck! The Emperor has more than once had occasion to doubt that you are as entirely devoted to him as he would have you to be. Now, here is an opportunity for removing his suspicions, and you will be very unwise if you let it escape.”

The conversation lasted for some time. M. de Rémusat was, of course, unshaken; he assured Savary that, far from seeking out Mme. d’André, he would not even consent to see her, and he informed her, through General Mathieu Dumas, of the failure of his mission. Savary returned to the subject in the course of the day, and said, over and over again: “You are throwing away your chances; I confess I can not make you out.” “That does not matter,” my husband would reply.

And, in fact, the Emperor did resent this refusal, and assumed toward M. de Rémusat the harsh, icy tone which was always a mark of his displeasure. M. de Rémusat endured it with resignation, and complained only to Duroc, the Grand Marshal of the Palace, who understood his difficulty better than Savary could, but regretted that anything should have occurred to diminish his favor with Bonaparte. He also congratulated my husband on his conduct, which seemed to him an act of the greatest courage; for not to obey the Emperor was, in his eyes, the most wonderful thing in the world.

Duroc was a man of a singular character. His mind was narrow; his feelings and thoughts were always, perhaps deliberately, confined to a small circle; but he lacked neither cleverness nor clear-sightedness. He was filled, perhaps, rather with submission than devotion to Bonaparte, and believed that no one placed near him could use any or every faculty better than in exactly obeying him.

In order not to fail in this, which he considered a strict duty, he would not allow himself even a thought beyond the obligations of his post. Cold, silent, and impenetrable as to every secret confided to him, I believe he had made it a law to himself never to reflect on the orders he received. He did not flatter the Emperor; he did not seek to please him by tale-bearing, which, though often tending to no result, was yet gratifying to Bonaparte’s naturally suspicious mind; but, like a mirror, Duroc reflected for his master all that had taken place in his presence, and, like an echo, he repeated his master’s words in the same tone and manner in which they had been uttered. Were we to have fallen dead before his eyes in consequence of a message of which he was the bearer, he would still have delivered it with imperturbable precision.

I do not think he ever inquired of himself whether the Emperor was or was not a great man; he was the master, and that was enough. His obedience made him of great use to the Emperor; the interior of the palace, the entire management of the household and its expenditure, was his charge, and everything was regulated with perfect order and extreme economy, and yet with great magnificence.

Marshal Duroc had married a Spanish lady of great fortune, little beauty, and a good deal of intelligence. She was the daughter of a Spanish banker named Hervas, who had been employed in some second-rate diplomatic capacity, and had subsequently been created Marquis d’Abruenara. He was Minister in Spain under Joseph Bonaparte. Mme. Duroc had been brought up at Mme. Campan’s school, where Mme. Louis Bonaparte, Mme. Savary, Mme. Davoust, Mme. Ney, and others, had also been educated.

She and her husband lived together on good terms, but without that perfect union which is so great a source of consolation to those who have to endure the restraints of a Court. He would not allow her to hold an opinion of her own on passing events, or to have any familiar friend; and he had none himself. I have never known any one who felt less need of friendship, or who cared less for the pleasures of conversation. He had not the slightest idea of social life; he did not know the meaning of a taste for literature or art; and this indifference to things in general, which he combined with the most perfect obedience to orders, while he never showed any sign of weariness or constraint, nor yet the slightest appearance of enthusiasm, made him quite a remarkable character, and interesting to observe. He was greatly esteemed at Court, or at any rate was of great importance. Everything was referred to him, and to him all complaints were addressed. He attended to everybody, seldom offering an opinion, still less a counsel; but he listened with attention, faithfully reported what was said, and never showed either the slightest mark of ill will or the least sign of interest.

Bonaparte, who had great skill in utilizing men, liked to be served by one who stood so completely apart from others. There was no danger in aggrandizing such a man as this; he therefore loaded him with honors and riches. His gifts to Savary, which were also very considerable, were dictated by a different motive. “That is a man,” he used to say, “who must continually be bought; he would belong to any one who would give him a crown more than I do.” And yet, strange to say, notwithstanding this feeling, Bonaparte trusted him, or at any rate believed the tales he brought. He knew, in truth, that Savary would refuse him nothing, and he would say of him sometimes, “If I ordered Savary to rid himself of his wife and children, I am sure he would not hesitate.”

Savary, though an object of general terror, was, in spite of his mode of life and his actions, hidden or otherwise, not radically a bad man. Love of money was his ruling passion. He had no military talent, and was even accused by his brave comrades of being wanting in courage on the battle-field. He had, therefore, to build up his fortune in a different fashion from that of his companions in arms. He perceived a way open to him in the system of cunning and tale-bearing which Bonaparte favored; and, having once entered on it, it was not possible for him to retrace his steps. He was, intrinsically, better than his reputation; that is, his first impulses were superior to his subsequent action. He was not wanting in natural ability; could be kindled to a momentary enthusiasm of the imagination; was ignorant, but with a desire for information, and had an instinctively right judgment. He was rather a liar than a deceitful man; harsh in manner, but very timid in reality. He had reasons of his own for knowing Bonaparte and trembling before him. Nevertheless, while he was Minister, he ventured on some show of opposition, and then appeared to entertain a certain desire to gain public esteem. He, perhaps, like many others, owed the development of his views to the times he lived in, which stifled the better side of his character. The Emperor sedulously cultivated evil passions in the men who served him, and they flourished abundantly under his reign.