The Eye of the Fly
Sydney Smith jokes have a delicate flavor of age, but an anecdote in “Memories of Half a Century” has not been told so often as some of the classic tales. Sydney was a guest at the dinner of an archdeacon, and a fellow-guest, whose hobby was natural history, was a bore, if once started on his subject. Smith promised to try to keep him in check. The naturalist got his opening.
“Mr. Archdeacon,” said he, “have you seen the pamphlet written by my friend, Professor Dickenson, on the remarkable size of the eye in a common housefly?”
The archdeacon courteously said he had not. The bore pursued his advantage.
“I can assure you it is a most interesting pamphlet, setting forth particulars, hitherto unobserved, as to the unusual size of that eye.”
“I deny the fact!” said a voice from the other end of the table. All smiled, save the bore.
“You deny the fact, sir?” said he. “May I ask on what authority you condemn the investigations of my most learned friend?”
“I deny the fact,” replied Smith, “and I base my denial on evidence wedded to immortal verse well known to every scholar, at least, at this table.”
The emphasis laid on scholar nettled the naturalist by its implication. “Well, sir,” he said, “will you have the kindness to quote your authority?”
“I will, sir. The evidence is those well known, I may say immortal, lines:
“‘Who saw him die?’
‘I,’ said the fly,
‘With my little eye!’”
The guests roared, and during the rest of the dinner nothing further was heard on the subject of natural history.