The Chevalier Taylor (as he always styled himself), in his travels about the country, used to give lectures on "The Eye," in whatever place he tarried. These addresses were never explanatory of the anatomy of the organ, but mere absurd rhapsodies on it as an ingenious and wonderful contrivance. Chevalier's oration to the university of Oxford, which is still extant, began thus:-- "The eye, most illustrious sons of the muses, most learned Oxonians, whose fame I have heard celebrated in all parts of the globe--the eye, that most amazing, that stupendous, that comprehending, that incomprehensible, that miraculous organ, the eye, is the Proteus of the passions, the herald of the mind, the interpreter of the heart, and the window of the soul. The eye has dominion over all things. The world was made for the eye, and the eye for the world. "My subject is Light, most illustrious sons of literature--intellectual light. Ah! my philosophical, metaphysical, my classical, mathematical, mechanical, my theological, my critical audience, my subject is the eye. You are the eye of England! "England has two eyes--Oxford and Cambridge. They are the two eyes of England, and two intellectual eyes. You are the right eye of England, the elder sister in science, and the first fountain of learning in all Europe. What filial joy must exult in my bosom, in my vast circuit, as copious as that of the sun himself, to shine in my course, upon this my native soil, and give light even at Oxford! "The eye is the husband of the soul! "The eye is indefatigable. The eye is an angelic faculty. The eye in this respect is a female. The eye is never tired of seeing; that is, of taking in, assimilating, and enjoying all Nature's vigour." When the Chevalier was ranting on in this fashion at Cambridge (of course there terming Oxford the _left_ eye of England), he undertook to express every passion of the mind by the eye alone. "Here you have surprise, gentlemen; here you have delight; here you have terror!" "Ah!" cried an undergraduate, "there's no merit in that, for you tell us beforehand what the emotion is. Now next time say nothing--and let me guess what the feeling is you desire to express." "Certainly," responded the Doctor, cordially; "nothing can be more reasonable in the way of a proposition. Now then, sir, what is this?" "Oh, veneration, I suppose." "Certainly--quite right--and this?" "Pity." "Of course, sir: you see it's impossible for an observant gentleman like yourself to misunderstand the language of the eye," answered the oculist, whose plan was only to assent to his young friend's decisions. In the year 1736, when the Chevalier was at the height of his fame, he received the following humorous letter:-- "DOMINE,--O tu, qui in oculis hominum versaris, et quamcunque tractas rem, _acu_ tangis, salve! Tu, qui, instar Phœbi, lumen orbi, et orbes luminibus reddis, iterum salve!