Dr. Wollaston, Dr. Young, and the Katers died before I became an author; Lord Brougham was one of the last of my scientific contemporaries, all the rest were younger than myself, and with this younger set, as with their predecessors, we had most agreeable and constant intercourse. Although we lived so much in scientific society we had all along been on the most friendly and intimate terms with the literary society of the day, such as Hallam, Milman, Moore, Malthus, &c., &c. The highly intellectual conversation of these was enlivened by the brilliant wit of my early friend, Sydney Smith, who was loved and admired by every one. His daughter married our friend Sir Henry Holland, the distinguished physician, well known for his eminent literary and scientific acquirements as well as for his refined taste.
No house in London was more hospitable and agreeable than that of the late Mr. John Murray, in Albemarle Street. His dinner parties were brilliant, with all the poets and literary characters of the day, and Mr. Murray himself was gentlemanly, full of information, and kept up the conversation with spirit. He generously published the "Mechanism of the Heavens" at his own risk, which, from its analytical character, could only be read by mathematicians.
Besides those I have mentioned we had a numerous acquaintance who were neither learned nor scientific; and at concerts at some of their houses I enjoyed much hearing the great artists of the day, such as Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, Rubini, &c., &c. We knew Lucien Buonaparte, who gave me a copy of his poems, which were a failure.
I had become acquainted with Madame de Montalembert, who was an Englishwoman, and was mother of the celebrated Comte; she was very eccentric, and at that time was an Ultra-Protestant. One day she came to ask me to go and drive in the Park with her, and afterwards dine at her house, saying, "We shall all be in high dresses." So I accepted, and on entering the drawing-room, found a bishop and several clergymen, Lady Olivia Sparrow, and some other ladies, all in high black satin dresses and white lace caps, precisely the dress I wore, and I thought it a curious coincidence. The party was lively enough, and agreeable, but the conversation was in a style I had never heard before—in fact, it affected the phraseology of the Bible. We all went after dinner to a sort of meeting at Exeter Hall, I quite forget for what purpose, but our party was on a kind of raised platform. I mentioned this to a friend afterwards, and the curious circumstance of our all being dressed alike. "Do you not know," she said, "that dress is assumed as a distinctive mark of the Evangelical party! So you were a wolf in sheep's clothing!"
I had been acquainted with the Miss Berrys at Raith, when visiting their cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. Mary, the eldest, was a handsome, accomplished woman, who from her youth had lived in the most distinguished society, both at home and abroad. She published a "Comparative View of Social Life in France and England," which was well received by the public. She was a Latin scholar, spoke and wrote French fluently, yet with all these advantages, the consciousness that she might have done something better, had female education been less frivolous, gave her a characteristic melancholy which lasted through life. She did not talk much herself, but she had the tact to lead conversation. She and her sister received every evening a select society in their small house in Curzon Street. Besides any distinguished foreigners who happened to be in London, among their habitual guests were my friend, Lady Charlotte Lindsay, always witty and agreeable, the brilliant and beautiful Sheridans, Lady Theresa Lister, afterwards Lady Theresa Lewis, who edited Miss Berry's "Memoirs," Lord Lansdowne, and many others. Lady Davy came occasionally, and the Miss Fanshaws, who were highly accomplished, and good artists, besides Miss Catherine Fanshaw wrote clever vers de société, such as a charade on the letter H, and, if I am not mistaken, "The Butterfly's Ball," &c. I visited these ladies, but their manners were so cold and formal that, though I admired their talents, I never became intimate with them. On the contrary, like everyone else, I loved Mary Berry, she was so warm-hearted and kind. When London began to fill, and the season was at its height, the Miss Berrys used to retire to a pretty villa at Twickenham, where they received their friends to luncheon, and strawberries and cream, and very delightful these visits were in fine spring weather. I recollect once, after dining there, to have been fortunate enough to give a place in my carriage to Lord Macaulay, and those who remember his charming and brilliant conversation will understand how short the drive to London appeared.
We sometimes went to see Miss Lydia White, who received every evening; she was clever, witty, and very free in her conversation. On one occasion the party consisted, besides ourselves, of the Misses Berry, Lady Davy; the three poets, Rogers, William Spencer, and Campbell; Sir James Macintosh, and Lord Dudley. Rogers, who was a bitter satirist and hated Lord Dudley, had written the following, epigram:—
Ward has no heart, 'tis said; but I deny it.
He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
I had never heard of this epigram, and on coming away Lord Dudley said, "You are going home to sleep and I to work." I answered, "Oh! you are going to prepare your speech for to-morrow." My appropriate remark raised an universal laugh.
Mr. Bowditch, of Boston, U.S., who died in 1838, left among other works a "Commentary on La Place's Mécanique Céleste" in four volumes. While busily occupied in bringing out an edition of the "Physical Sciences," I received a letter from his son, Mr. H. Bowditch, requesting me to write an elaborate review of that work, which would be published in Boston along with the biography of his father, written by Mr. Young, who sent me a copy of it. Though highly sensible of the honour, I declined to undertake so formidable a work, fearing that I should not do justice to the memory of so great a man.