The Two Brothers | Page 7

labors, happy in the
consciousness of aiding his Emperor. He loved him as a man, he adored
him as a sovereign, and he would never allow the least criticism of his
acts or his purposes.

From 1804 to 1808, the Bridaus lived in a handsome suite of rooms on
the Quai Voltaire, a few steps from the ministry of the interior and
close to the Tuileries. A cook and footman were the only servants of
the household during this period of Madame Bridau's grandeur. Agathe,
early afoot, went to market with her cook. While the latter did the
rooms, she prepared the breakfast. Bridau never went to the ministry
before eleven o'clock. As long as their union lasted, his wife took the
same unwearying pleasure in preparing for him an exquisite breakfast,
the only meal he really enjoyed. At all seasons and in all weathers,
Agathe watched her husband from the window as he walked toward his
office, and never drew in her head until she had seen him turn the
corner of the rue du Bac. Then she cleared the breakfast- table herself,
gave an eye to the arrangement of the rooms, dressed for the day,
played with her children and took them to walk, or received the visits
of friends; all the while waiting in spirit for Bridau's return. If her
husband brought him important business that had to be attended to, she
would station herself close to the writing- table in his study, silent as a
statue, knitting while he wrote, sitting up as late as he did, and going to
bed only a few moments before him. Occasionally, the pair went to
some theatre, occupying one of the ministerial boxes. On those days,
they dined at a restaurant, and the gay scenes of that establishment
never ceased to give Madame Bridau the same lively pleasure they
afford to provincials who are new to Paris. Agathe, who was obliged to
accept the formal dinners sometimes given to the head of a department
in a ministry, paid due attention to the luxurious requirements of the
then mode of dress, but she took off the rich apparel with delight when
she returned home, and resumed the simple garb of a provincial. One
day in the week, Thursday, Bridau received his friends, and he also
gave a grand ball, annually, on Shrove Tuesday.
These few words contain the whole history of their conjugal life, which
had but three events; the births of two children, born three years apart,
and the death of Bridau, who died in 1808, killed by overwork at the
very moment when the Emperor was about to appoint him
director-general, count, and councillor of state. At this period of his
reign, Napoleon was particularly absorbed in the affairs of the interior;
he overwhelmed Bridau with work, and finally wrecked the health of

that dauntless bureaucrat. The Emperor, of whom Bridau had never
asked a favor, made inquiries into his habits and fortune. Finding that
this devoted servant literally had nothing but his situation, Napoleon
recognized him as one of the incorruptible natures which raised the
character of his government and gave moral weight to it, and he wished
to surprise him by the gift of some distinguished reward. But the effort
to complete a certain work, involving immense labor, before the
departure of the Emperor for Spain caused the death of the devoted
servant, who was seized with an inflammatory fever. When the
Emperor, who remained in Paris for a few days after his return to
prepare for the campaign of 1809, was told of Bridau's death he said:
"There are men who can never be replaced." Struck by the spectacle of
a devotion which could receive none of the brilliant recognitions that
reward a soldier, the Emperor resolved to create an order to requite
civil services, just as he had already created the Legion of honor to
reward the military. The impression he received from the death of
Bridau led him to plan the order of the Reunion. He had not time,
however, to mature this aristocratic scheme, the recollection of which is
now so completely effaced that many of my readers may ask what were
its insignia: the order was worn with a blue ribbon. The Emperor called
it the Reunion, under the idea of uniting the order of the Golden Fleece
of Spain with the order of the Golden Fleece of Austria. "Providence,"
said a Prussian diplomatist, "took care to frustrate the profanation."
After Bridau's death the Emperor inquired into the circumstances of his
widow. Her two sons each received a scholarship in the Imperial
Lyceum, and the Emperor paid the whole costs of their education from
his privy purse. He gave Madame Bridau a pension of four thousand
francs, intending, no doubt, to advance the