The Screwtape Letters is a book purporting to be the advice of an experienced devil to a young tempter on guiding his “patient” towards perdition. Here is a brief excerpt that offers a useful discussion of what modern gluttony might look like.
Letter
XVI
My
dear Wormwood,
The
contemptuous way in which you spoke of gluttony as a means of catching souls, in
your last letter, only shows your ignorance. One of the great achievements of
the last hundred years has been to deaden the human conscience on that subject,
so that by now you will hardly find a sermon preached or a conscience troubled
about it in the whole length and breadth of Europe. This has largely been effected
by concentrating all our efforts on gluttony of Delicacy, not gluttony of
Excess. Your patient’s mother, as I learn from the dossier and you might have
learned from Glubose, is a good example. She would be astonished — one day, I
hope, will be — to learn that her whole life is enslaved to this kind of sensuality,
which is quite concealed from her by the fact that the quantities involved are small.
But what do quantities matter, provided we can use a human belly and palate to
produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern?
Glubose
has this old woman well in hand. She is a positive terror to hostesses and
servants. She is always turning from what has been offered her to say with a
demure little sigh and a smile “Oh please, please... all I want is a cup of
tea, weak but not too weak, and the teeniest weeniest bit of really crisp toast”.
You see? Because what she wants is smaller and less costly than what has been
set before her, she never recognizes as gluttony her determination to get what
she wants, however troublesome it may be to others. At the very moment of indulging
her appetite she believes that she is practicing temperance. In a crowded restaurant
she gives a little scream at the plate which some overworked waitress has set
before her and says, “Oh, that’s far, far too much! Take it away and bring me
about a quarter of it”. If challenged, she would say she was doing this to
avoid waste; in reality she does it because the particular shade of delicacy to
which we have enslaved her is offended by the sight of more food than she
happens to want.
The
real value of the quiet, unobtrusive work which Glubose has been doing for
years on this old woman can be gauged by the way in which her belly now
dominates her whole life. The woman is in what may be called the “All-I-want”
state of mind. All she wants is a cup of tea properly made, or an egg properly boiled,
or a slice of bread properly toasted. But she never finds any servant or any
friend who can do these simple things "properly” — because her “properly”
conceals an insatiable demand for the exact, and almost impossible, palatal
pleasures which she imagines she remembers from the past; a past described by her
as "the days when you could get good servants” but known to us as the days
when her senses were more easily pleased and she had pleasures of other kinds
which made her less dependent on those of the table. Meanwhile, the daily
disappointment produces daily ill temper: cooks give notice and friendships are
cooled. If ever the Enemy introduces into her mind a faint suspicion that she
is too interested in food, Glubose counters it by suggesting to her that she
doesn’t mind what she eats herself but “does like to have things nice for her
boy”. In fact, of course, her greed has been one of the chief sources of his
domestic discomfort for many years.
Now
your patient is his mother’s son. While working your hardest, quite rightly, on
other fronts, you must not neglect a little quiet infiltration in respect of gluttony.
Being a male, he is not so likely to be caught by the "All I want”
camouflage. Males are best turned into gluttons with the help of their vanity.
They ought to be made to think themselves very knowing about food, to pique
themselves on having found the only restaurant in the town where steaks are
really “properly” cooked.
What
begins as vanity can then be gradually turned into habit. But, however you
approach it, the great thing is to bring him into the state in which the denial
of any one indulgence — it matters not which, champagne or tea, sole colbert or
cigarettes — “puts him out,” for then his charity, justice, and obedience are
all at your mercy.
Mere
excess in food is much less valuable than delicacy. Its chief use is as a kind
of artillery preparation for attacks on chastity. On that, as on every other
subject, keep your man in a condition of false spirituality. Never let him
notice the medical aspect. Keep him wondering what pride or lack of faith has delivered
him into your hands when a simple enquiry into what he has been eating or drinking
for the last twenty-four hours would show him whence your ammunition comes and
thus enable him by a very little abstinence to imperil your lines of communication.
. . .
Your
affectionate uncle,
SCREWTAPE
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