No. 206. SATURDAY, MARCH 7, 1752

----Propositi nondum pudet, atque eadem est mens,

Ut bona summa putes, alien<a vivere quadr<a. JUV. Sat. v. 1.

But harden'd by affronts, and still the same,

Lost to all sense of honour and of fame,

Thou yet canst love to haunt the great man's board,

And think no supper good but with a lord. BOWLES.

WHEN Diogenes was once asked, what kind of

wine he liked best? he answered, "That

which is drunk at the cost of others."

Though the character of Diogenes has never

excited any general zeal of imitation, there are many

who resemble him in his taste of wine; many who

are frugal, though not abstemious; whose appetites,

though too powerful for reason, are kept under

restraint by avarice; and to whom all delicacies lose

their flavour, when they cannot be obtained but at

their own expense.

Nothing produces more singularity of manners

and inconstancy of life, than the conflict of opposite

vices in the same mind. He that uniformly pursues

any purpose, whether good or bad, has a settled

principle of action; and as he may always find

associates who are travelling the same way, is

countenanced by example, and sheltered in the multitude;

but a man, actuated at once by different desires,

must move in a direction peculiar to himself, and

suffer that reproach which we are naturally inclined

to bestow on those who deviate from the rest of the

world, even without inquiring whether they are

worse or better.

Yet this conflict of desires sometimes produces

wonderful efforts. To riot in far-fetched dishes, or

surfeit with unexhausted variety, and yet practise

the most rigid economy, is surely an art which may

justly draw the eyes of mankind upon them whose

industry or judgment has enabled them to attain it.

To him, indeed, who is content to break open the

chests, or mortgage the manours, of his ancestors,

that he may hire the ministers of excess at the highest

price, gluttony is an easy science; yet we often

hear the votaries of luxury boasting of the elegance

which they owe to the taste of others, relating with

rapture the succession of dishes with which their

cooks and caterers supply them; and expecting

their share of praise with the discoverers of arts and

the civilizers of nations. But to shorten the way to

convivial happiness, by eating without cost, is a

secret hitherto in few hands, but which certainly

deserves the curiosity of those whose principal

enjoyment is their dinner, and who see the sun rise

with no other hope than that they shall fill their

bellies before it sets.

Of them that have within my knowledge attempted

this scheme of happiness, the greater part

have been immediately obliged to desist; and some,

whom their first attempts flattered with success,

were reduced by degrees to a few tables, from which

they were at last chased to make way for others;

and having long habituated themselves to superfluous

plenty, growled away their latter years in

discontented competence.

None enter the regions of luxury with higher

expectations than men of wit, who imagine, that they

shall never want a welcome to that company whose

ideas they can enlarge, or whose imaginations they

can elevate, and believe themselves able to pay for

their wine with the mirth which it qualifies them

to produce. Full of this opinion, they crowd with

little invitation, wherever the smell of a feast allures

them, but are seldom encouraged to repeat their

visits, being dreaded by the pert as rivals, and hated

by the dull as disturbers of the company.

No man has been so happy in gaining and keeping

the privilege of living at luxurious houses as

Gulosulus, who, after thirty years of continual revelry,

has now established, by uncontroverted prescription,

his claim to partake of every entertainment,

and whose presence they who aspire to the praise

of a sumptuous table are careful to procure on a

day of importance, by sending the invitation a

fortnight before.

Gulosulus entered the world without any eminent

degree of merit; but was careful to frequent houses

where persons of rank resorted. By being often seen,

he became in time known; and, from sitting in the

same room, was suffered to mix in idle conversation,

or assisted to fill up a vacant hour, when better

amusement was not readily to be had. From the

coffee-house he was sometimes taken away to dinner;

and as no man refuses the acquaintance of him

whom he sees admitted to familiarity by others of

equal dignity, when he had been met at a few tables,

he with less difficulty found the way to more, till

at last he was regularly expected to appear wherever

preparations are made for a feast, within the

circuit of his acquaintance.

When he was thus by accident initiated in luxury,

he felt in himself no inclination to retire from

a life of so much pleasure, and therefore very

seriously considered how he might continue it. Great

qualities, or uncommon accomplishments, he did not

find necessary; for he had already seen that merit

rather enforces respect than attracts fondness; and

as he thought no folly greater than that of losing a

dinner for any other gratification, he often congratulated

himself, that he had none of that disgusting

excellence which impresses awe upon greatness, and

condemns its possessors to the society of those who

are wise or brave, and indigent as themselves.

Gulosulus, having never allotted much of his time

to books or meditation, had no opinion in philosophy

or politicks, and was not in danger of injuring his

interest by dogmatical positions or violent contradiction.

If a dispute arose, he took care to listen with

earnest attention; and, when either speaker grew

vehement and loud, turned towards him with eager

quickness, and uttered a short phrase of admiration,

as if surprised by such cogency of argument as he

had never known before. By this silent concession,

he generally preserved in either controvertist such

a conviction of his own superiority, as inclined him

rather to pity than irritate his adversary, and

prevented those outrages which are sometimes produced

by the rage of defeat, or petulance of triumph.

Gulosulus was never embarrassed but when he was

required to declare his sentiments before he had been

able to discover to which side the master of the

house inclined, for it was his invariable rule to adopt

the notions of those that invited him.

It will sometimes happen that the insolence of

wealth breaks into contemptuousness, or the turbulence

of wine requires a vent; and Gulosulus seldom

fails of being singled out on such emergencies, as

one on whom any experiment of ribaldry may be

safely tried. Sometimes his lordship finds himself

inclined to exhibit a specimen of raillery for the diversion

of his guests, and Gulosulus always supplies him

with a subject of merriment. But he has learned to

consider rudeness and indignities as familiarities that

entitle him to greater freedom: he comforts himself,

that those who treat and insult him pay for their

laughter, and that he keeps his money while they

enjoy their jest.

His chief policy consists in selecting some dish

from every course, and recommending it to the company,

with an air so decisive, that no one ventures

to contradict him. By this practice he acquires at a

feast a kind of dictatorial authority; his taste

becomes the standard of pickles and seasoning, and he

is venerated by the professors of epicurism, as the

only man who understands the niceties of cookery.

Whenever a new sauce is imported, or any

innovation made in the culinary system, he procures the

earliest intelligence, and the most authentick

receipt; and, by communicating his knowledge under

proper injunctions of secrecy, gains a right of tasting

his own dish whenever it is prepared, that he

may tell whether his directions have been fully

understood.

By this method of life Gulosulus has so impressed

on his imagination the dignity of feasting, that he

has no other topick of talk, or subject of meditation.

His calendar is a bill of fare; he measures the year

by successive dainties. The only common-places of

his memory are his meals; and if you ask him at what

time an event happened, he considers whether he

heard it after a dinner of turbot or venison. He

knows, indeed. that those who value themselves

upon sense, learning, or piety, speak of him with

contempt; but he considers them as wretches,

envious or ignorant, who do not know his happiness,

or wish to supplant him; and declares to his friends,

that he is fully satisfied with his own conduct, since

he has fed every day on twenty dishes, and yet

doubled his estate.

The Works of Samuel Johnson, in Sixteen Volumes. Volume 04 · 第 90 / 140 题