From the outset of his legislative career, the sagacious deputy perceived that party-spirit would run high, and that great moderation would be required to steer safely through the troubled waters before him. Though qualified by his talents and eloquence, to take the lead in whatever party he chose, he had no wish for such perilous eminence; his ambition was to make himself useful to every one, formidable or odious to none. Placed on the Legislative Committee, he seldom if ever opened his lips, unless required either to propose laws or to defend them. In short, by his extreme caution, and by confining himself to matters purely legislative, he was regarded as an useful, an able, and what was more to his advantage, a harmless man. Unfortunately, however, for his principles, this temporizing course by degrees destroyed all independence within him; and suppleness and timidity came to be the most prominent points in a character of which far other expectations had been entertained.

It would be amusing, were not all other feelings absorbed in execration of that regicide assembly, to observe the manner in which Cambaceres acquitted himself at the trial of Louis. "No doubt the king is guilty of the crimes laid to his charge; but we are legislators, not judges: how then can we condemn him?" The murmurs which followed convinced him he had been too bold, and he therefore voted against the appeal to the people, a step which would have saved the prisoner. But how vote upon the question of punishment? As he really felt the moderation he professed, he was averse to the execution of Louis; but he had not moral courage sufficient to brave the vengeance of the Mountain party -- a party which watched him closely -- by refusing his suffrage. As usual he adopted a middle course; he proposed that sentence of death should be passed, but the execution delayed until a general peace, with power even then to mitigate the punishment, if circumstances were favourable to such mitigation. Fearful that he had exhibited too great a leaning to the royal sufferer, he hastily added, that it should be lawful to behead Louis in twenty-four hours, in case the French territory were invaded by the enemies of the republic. Such was the artful course he pursued on this momentous occasion, -- a course in which a sense of justice, and even a feeling of humanity, struggled with apprehension for his personal safety. If he appeased his own conscience by this trimming policy, he certainly did not satisfy his more furious colleagues, who covered him with reproaches and curses. Justly alarmed lest his own head should also be made to adorn the bloody pike, he paid assiduous court to all the violent leaders of the hour. He laboured to convince them that, whatever might be his private opinion, he would never oppose that of his better-informed colleagues; that his principles taught him, not to thwart, but to acquiesce in, whatever he could not prevent; and by this suppleness he succeeded in turning away the storm which was ready to burst over him.

In the famous revolution of the 18th Brumaire (November 9th, 1799), Cambaceres had no part. He clearly foresaw the crisis which approached, but he in no respect hastened its execution. If throughout life he was distinguished for any thing, it was an acquiescence in the existing state of matters, let that state be what it might. Without moral energy to fit him for any crisis, and dreading every change in so far as it might influence his own fortune, he crept cautiously and silently along tile path of public life, bowing alike to friend and foe. Personal enemies, indeed, he had none; political rivals were so struck by his imperturbable placidity, that their hostility never assumed a very deep character. Such a man could not be much shackled by moral principle: too timid to defend the interests of justice and truth, if that defence were likely to be accompanied by any risk to his precious self; and for the same reason averse to oppose any measure, however tyrannical or odious, if emanating from "the powers that be," he could not hope for the esteem of the wise and good,-- he could hardly escape the contempt even of the bad.

From the revolution just mentioned, this yielding politician became inseparably connected with Buonaparte, who nominated him to the dignity of Second Consul. Of his absolute nullity in this elevated station, the Parisians were not slow in testifying their sense. Scarcely was the appointment known, when a caricature represented both him and Lebrun kneeling by the side of Buonaparte, while he, standing erect, quietly placed an extinguisher on the head of each. -- From this time, however, his public conduct is so identified with that of his master, that for a detailed account of it, we must refer the reader to the life of the latter. Whether as Second Consul, or Arch-chancellor (which dignity was conferred on him at the commencement of the empire, in 1804), he served Napoleon with fidelity, ability, and zeal. No servant of the emperor was more intimately conversant with the imperial policy, especially with the internal administration; and none so long preserved the confidence of his master. During fourteen years, that confidence remained undiminished. No wonder; be devoted his whole powers to the service; he sacrificed his principles, his conscience (if be had either), at the shrine of tyranny. He did not, it is said, sanction the Spanish war, nor the expedition to Russia, nor the hostilities of 1813, -- what man of common prudence could? But on the whole, as he was of all statesmen the most complying, so was he of all flatterers the basest. The emperor was the essence of all that is great, generous, disinterested, honourable, and humane, -- in a word, perfection itself; all the imperial brothers were wise, magnanimous, patriotic -- all the sisters amiable, prudent, and chaste; never was there so immaculate a family; even the weak and worthless Jerome was "a wise, valiant, and noble prince." The adulation of Cambaceres was at last rewarded by the principality of Parma.

Under the regency of Maria Louisa, the prince of Parma was her confidential adviser. When the fortunes of the emperor wore their most desperate aspect, and the capital was menaced, he accompanied the court to Blois: there intelligence of the abdication reached him, and he lost no time in forwarding his adhesion to the new order of things. He returned to Paris, but not to seek either power or place; his only ambition being to preserve unimpaired the immense wealth he had amassed in the emperor's service. He retired to his hotel, where he lived in great privacy. At court he never appeared -- how could he, after his vote on the fate of Louis XVI.? This was, doubtless, the cause why he was excluded from Louis XVIII.'s Chamber of Peers. He had probably no hand in the return of Buonaparte from Elba: but he was forthwith identified with the imperial government by accepting the Ministry of Justice.

During the Hundred Days, Cambaceres pursued the same course of moderation which had distinguished him through life. Nominated (May 26, 1815) President of the Chamber of Peers, he displayed great evenness of temper amidst the most stormy debates; recalled the members to dispassionate discussion; and was ever ready to soften down whatever appeared harsh and intemperate, whether in the speeches of concealed royalists, of Jacobins, or of Buonapartists.

Louis returned, and the ex-president again sought a refuge in private life: this time, however, he did not escape so fortunately as before ; he was exiled as a regicide. He resided alternately at Brussels and Amsterdam, until May 1818, when the most merciful of monarchs was pleased to reverse the sentence, and to restore him to all the rights and privileges of a French subject. He accordingly returned to Paris, where he remained until his death, which happened in March 1824.

To the praise of Cambaceres it will be remembered, that in the most violent crisis of the revolution, he was the constant though timid advocate of moderation; that if he was an unscrupulous instrument of Buonaparte, he sometimes gave him salutary advice; and that, while he was never known to originate a single arbitrary act, he mitigated the severity of many. In private life, he was remarkable for little beyond his love of good cheer. In this respect he was often contrasted with Napoleon and Le Brun: in his palace the former dined as quickly, as on his march with the army; the latter was too parsimonious to indulge in expensive living. Hence this saying became proverbial in the days of the Consulate: "Buonaparte gives hasty dinners -- Cambaceres good dinners -- Le Brun no dinner at all." In fact, Cambaceres was a gourmand, and his table would have been daily crowded with guests, had not his disposition been somewhat penurious.

Of this last foible, there is an anecdote too characteristic to be omitted. He had directed a furniture-broker to bring him a table capacious enough for sixty covers. Accordingly, it was brought, and ordered to be laid out in the dining-room. When this was done, he insisted that it was not of the requisite dimensions. His object was to procure by this means some abatement of the price; but the poor tradesman demurred. To settle the question, Cambaceres despatched one of his valets to bring in sixty masons, who were at that moment demolishing some buildings in the Place du Carousel. The men were surprised at so unexpected a summons: they naturally supposed, however, that the great man wished some improvement to be immediately made in his palace, hastily cleaned themselves, and flew to the spot. When introduced into the dining-room, they were not a little amazed to find the table laid out with sixty covers. "No doubt," thought they, "his highness has received good news from the army, and in the joy of his heart wishes to give us a treat!" This impression was confirmed when they were ordered to take their seats. But what was their amazement when, instead of the table being covered with dainties, Cambaceres, who was standing near them, called out, "Act as if you were pouring out to drink! Seize your knives and forks! Seem as if you were cutting something on your plates!" The poor hod-men went through these evolutions with such regularity, as to remind us of the barber's brother in the Arabian Nights; but in one respect the parallel is imperfect -- the imaginary feast was not succeeded by a substantial one: no sooner was his highness forced to acknowledge that the table was of the requisite capacity, than the tantalized guests were unceremoniously dismissed, without the slightest compensation for the time they had lost.

An anecdote related by Bourrienne shall finish this sketch:--
"The first consul being informed that the carriers of the mails conveyed also a variety of other things, especially delicacies, for certain favoured persons, ordered that in future the service of the post should be confined to letters and despatches. That very evening Cambaceres entered the room in which I was sitting with the first consul, who enjoyed beforehand the embarrassment of his colleague. 'Well, Cambaceres, what is the matter at this hour?' I come to request an exception to the order you have given to the director of the posts. How do you suppose that friends can either be made or preserved without the best dishes? You know yourself that a good table has a great deal to do with the art of governing.' The first consul laughed heartily, called him a gourmand, and patting him on the shoulder said -- 'Be comforted, my poor Cambaceres; forget your anger: the couriers shall continue to bring your patés de Strasbourg."