"The charcoal shortens our lives," said Carême; "but what matter?--we lose in years and gain in glory." A born epicure, he never risked his health by over-indulgence of his epicurean taste. "I have been prudent," he states, "not by inclination, but through a profound sense of my duty." To his culinary accomplishments he joined those of a master director and maître-d'hôtel. Witness his remarks concerning the functions of a chief steward: "The _maître-d'hôtel cuisinier_ should possess that unification of qualities which is seldom bestowed, even in an isolated form. He will be a cook, above all--able, alert, productive; he will be cut out for active command and be animated by an invincible ardour for work; he will be a man of parts, an enthusiast, vigilant even to minuteness. He will see all, and know all. The maître-d'hôtel is never ill. He presides over everything, his impetus dominates all; he alone has the right to raise his voice, and all must obey. He must be sufficiently learned to write out, when occasion calls for it, without the aid of books, the principal part of his bills of fare. These are his book of resources, the journal of his fatigues and his victories. Alas! that which he may not preserve in these copies are the spontaneous fire and ready tact he has displayed in connection with his ranges--these are things of the moment that die at their birth." Many anecdotes of the famous gastronomers and great personages of his time have been recounted by Carême. To Cambacérès he refers at length, disputing his claim to a distinguished place among epicures. The cuisine of the arch-chancellor, he states decisively, never merited its great reputation. This was through no fault of his chef, M. Grand'Manche, an excellent practitioner, but was due solely to the excessive parsimony of his employer, who at each service was in the habit of noting the entrées that were untouched or scarcely touched, and of forming his _carte_ for the morrow with their remains. "What a dinner, merciful heavens! I would not say that the dessert may not be utilised, but that it may not supply a dinner for a prince and an eminent gastronomer. This is a delicate question; the master has nothing to say, nothing to see; the skill and probity of the cook alone should enter into the facts. The dessert should only be employed with precaution, skill, and especially in silence. "The arch-chancellor received from the departments innumerable gifts of provisions and the finest of poultry. All such were forthwith engulfed in a vast larder of which he retained the key. He kept tally of the provisions, the dates of their arrival, and he alone gave orders for their utilisation. Frequently, when he issued his orders the provisions were spoiled.