32 The Hon. Henry Cavendish. [January, 
to the verge of madness by a student breaking a piece of 
Cavendish’s most treasured apparatus, the only rebuke that 
this gentle solitary could utter was to the effedt that young 
students could only learn to use delicate apparatus by 
breaking it — a story which is surely to the full as pretty as that 
of Newton and his little dog Diamond. On another occa- 
sion he was told that a once prosperous acquaintance had 
fallen into poverty. It was suggested to him that a small 
annuity might at any rate keep the wolf from the poor 
man’s door. Cavendish answered the appeal by tremulously 
asking if ten thousand pounds would be sufficient. 
It has also been said that he was a misogynist, because 
he always communicated with his housekeeper in writing, 
and immediately dismissed any female servant who allowed 
herself to be met by him in his Clapham house. These 
stories of him, however, are at best nothing but Clapham 
gossip, collected some years after his death. On one occa- 
sion this gentle, timid, feeble old man valorously defended 
and ultimately rescued a lady from the attack of an infuri- 
ated cow, — so at any rate one member of the fair sex could 
say he was no misogynist. At the christening of a young 
relation he was told that it was usual to make a present to 
the baby’s nurse ; he obeyed the admonition by giving her 
an uncounted handful of guineas. That he scrupulously 
avoided all communication with the female sex is undoubted, 
but he shunned the highest worth and intellect of his time 
in the same way. Had there been a Mrs. Somerville in his 
day, and she could have given him any information on any 
of the multifarious subjects in which he took an interest, it 
is only too probable that he would not have shunned her. 
Very few visitors were admitted to Montague Place. One 
of the favoured few reports that the rooms were all appa- 
ratus. Fewer still were admitted to the Clapham house, 
where they were always regaled off the same dish, — a leg of 
mutton, or, if they exceeded a certain number, two legs of 
mutton. Who can say whether the cold philosopher may 
not have sometimes warmed into the genial host at these 
symposia, at which one bowl of punch at least must have 
been produced in accordance with the custom of the day ? 
We are told that at the Royal Society dinners Cavendish 
was as cold and reserved as elsewhere ; but is it not possible 
that he may have unbent somewhat at those mysterious Cat 
and Bagpipes feasts to which he must have gone of his own 
free will and choice ? 
His death was like his life — solitary. When he found his 
end approaching he called his servant, and stridlly com- 
