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"The mind as well as the stomach must have food fitted and prepared to it's taste and humour, or it will reject and loath it."

— Anonymous

Author

The World, No. 156

Place of Publication

London

Publisher

Printed for R. and J. Dodsley

Date

Thursday, December 25, 1755

Metaphor

"The mind as well as the stomach must have food fitted and prepared to it's taste and humour, or it will reject and loath it."

Metaphor in Context

The mind as well as the stomach must have food fitted and prepared to it's taste and humour, or it will reject and loath it: now the opera is so good a cook, and knows so well to please the palates of these her guests, that it is wonderful to see with what an appetite they devour whatever she sets before them: nay, so great is their partiality, that the same food drest by another hand, shall have no relish; but minced and frittered by this their favourite, shall be delicious. The plain beef and mustard of Shakespear (though served up by very good cooks) turn their stomachs, while the maccaroni of Rolli, is, in their opinion, a dish fit for the Gods. Thus Julius Cæsar, killed by the conspirators, never touches them; but Julio Chesare, killing himself, and singing and stabbing, and stabbing and singing, till swan-like, he expires, is caro caro, and divino. Scipio, the great conqueror of Afric, is with them a mighty silly fellow; but Shippione is a charming creature. It is evident then, that the food must be suited to the taste, as the taste to the food; and as the waters of a certain fountain of Thessaly, from their benumbing quality, could be contained in nothing but the hoof of an ass, so can this languid and disjointed composition find no admittance but in such heads as are expressly formed to receive it. Thus their insensibility appears as well in what they like, as in what they reject; and like a faithful companion, attends them at all times, and in all places: for I have remarked that, wherever they are, they bring a mind not to be changed by time or place. However, as a play is the very touchstone of the passions, the neutrality which they so strictly observe, is no where so conspicuous as at the theatres. There they are to be seen, one while when tears are flowing all around them, another when the very benches are cracking with peals of laughter, sitting as calm and serene, as if they had nothing but their own innocent thoughts to converse with.
(pp. 937-8)