He had, I remember, a strange repugnance, even abhorrence, to public meetings in the later days at Cambridge.

I can now recall that he would accompany people to the door, but never be induced to enter.
A passage which I will quote from one of his letters illustrates this.
"The presence of a large number of people has a strange, repulsive physical effect on me.

I feel crushed and overwhelmed, not stimulated and vivified, as is so often described.

I can't listen to a concert comfortably if there is a great throng, unless the music is so good as to wrap one altogether away.

There is undoubtedly a force abroad among large masses of people, the force which forms the basis of the principle of public prayer, and I am conscious of it too, only it distresses me; moreover, the worst and most afflicting nightmare I have is the sensation of standing sightless and motionless, but with all the other senses alert and apprehensive, in the presence of a vast and hostile crowd." 3.