30 The Hon . Heavy Cavendish : [January, 
called by one who knew him, must have been a sore trial to 
him ; but he, no doubt, consented to undergo it knowing 
well that he could not carry on his own researches without 
being acquainted with what some, at least, of the more 
eminent of his fellow workers were doing. Hence his visits 
to Crane Court and Soho Square, and to the Royal Society 
Club, which he also seems to have frequented occasionally. 
He also appears to have been a member of the Cat and Bag- 
pipes Club, which was apparently a kind of Junior Royal 
Society Club for scientific workers who had not yet earned 
the privilege of belonging to the more august body. 
One of his visits to Soho Square, on the occasion of a 
larger gathering than usual, is graphically described by one 
of his contemporaries. Ex uno disce omnes. He would drive 
up to the door in his carriage, watch a favourable oppor- 
tunity, and glide quickly upstairs as soon as he saw the 
staircase clear. 
Reaching the top of the flight, he would hang his three- 
cornered hat, of the same fashion as the one his grandfather 
wore, on his own particular peg, and then lose all heart. 
He would slink nervously about the passage, making several 
fruitless attempts to enter the drawing-room. At last he 
would summon up sufficient courage to turn the handle and 
creep in. Those who recognised him knew him too well to 
welcome him in words, or even by looks. He would now 
steal about awkwardly from group to group until he lighted 
upon one which was conversing on some of the many topics 
that interested him. He would listen attentively at a little 
distance, and occasionally make a remark or ask a question 
that was always exceedingly to the purpose. If any one 
answered him without looking at him, he would turn slightly 
aside and listen attentively ; but if he was addressed per- 
sonally, he would dart quickly away with a low murmur of 
displeasure and seek some other and more discreet group of 
speakers. One night an event occurred which he must have 
viewed in the light of a catastrophe. There was a greater 
gathering than usual, apparently to do honour to a distin- 
guished Austrian philosopher who was then visiting this 
country. Taking him somewhat unawares, Dr. Ingenhouz, 
one of his few acquaintances who could presume to take 
such a liberty, informed him that his learned foreign brother 
wished for the honour of a personal introduction to him. 
Poor Cavendish was completely taken aback for the moment. 
He seemed to have lost all power of speech and motion. 
He stared helplessly at the Austrian, who by this time had 
begun a set speech to the effect that the primary objeCf of 
