had made his own. His very "build"
and appearance was also that of the redoubtable Doctor: so was his loud
and hearty laugh. Woe betide the man on whom he chose to "wipe his
shoes" (Browning's phrase), for he could wipe them with a will. He would
thus roar you down. It was "in_tol_-er-able"--everything was
"_in-tol-erable!_"--it is difficult to describe the fashion in which he
rolled forth the syllables. Other things were "all Stuff!" "Monstrous!"
"Incredible!" "Don't tell me!" Indeed I, with many, could find a
parallel in the great old Doctor for almost everything he said. Even
when there was a smile at his vehemence, he would unconsciously repeat
the Doctor's autocratic methods.

Forster's life was indeed a striking and encouraging one for those who
believe in the example of "self-made men." His aim was somewhat
different from the worldly types, who set themselves to become
wealthy, or to have lands or mansions. Forster's more moderate
aspiration was to reach to the foremost rank of the literary world:
and he succeeded. He secured for himself an excellent education, never
spared himself for study or work, and never rested till he had built
himself that noble mansion at Kensington, of which I have spoken,
furnished with books, pictures, and rare things. Here he could,
Maecenas-like, entertain his literary friends of all degrees, with a
vast number of other friends and acquaintances, notable in their walks
of life. It is astonishing what a circle he had gathered round him,
and how intimate he was with all: political men such as Brougham,
Guizot, Gladstone, Forster, Cornwall Lewis (Disraeli he abhorred as
much as his friend of Chelsea did, who once asked me, "What is there
new about _our Jew Premier_?"): Maclise, Landseer, Frith, and
Stanfield, with dozens of other painters: every writer of the day,
almost without exception, late or early. With these, such as Anthony
Trollope, he was on the friendliest terms, though he did not "grapple
them to him with hooks of steel." With the Bar it was the same: he was
intimate with the brilliant and agreeable Cockburn; with Lord
Coleridge (then plain Mr. Coleridge), who found a knife and a fork
laid for him any day that he chose to drop in, which he did pretty
often. The truth was that in any company his marked personality, both
physical and mental; his magisterial face and loud decided voice, and
his reputation of judge and arbiter, at once impressed and commanded
attention. People