JOHN
FORSTER
BY
ONE OF HIS FRIENDS
LONDON
Chapman & Hall Ltd.
1903
JOHN FORSTER.
A MAN OF LETTERS OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
One of the most robust, striking, and many-sided characters of histime was John Forster, a rough, uncompromising personage, who, fromsmall and obscure beginnings, shouldered his way to the front until hecame to be looked on by all as guide, friend and arbiter. From astruggling newspaperman he emerged into handsome chambers in Lincoln'sInn Fields, from thence to a snug house in Montague Square, ending ina handsome stone mansion which he built for himself at Palace Gate,Kensington, with its beautiful library-room at the back, and everyluxury of "lettered ease."
If anyone desired to know what Dr. Johnson was like, he could have foundhim in Forster. There was the same social intolerance; the same"dispersion of humbug"; the same loud voice, attuned to a mellifluoussoftness on occasion, especially with ladies or persons of rank; thelove of "talk" in which he assumed the lead—and kept it too; and thecontemptuous scorn of what he did not approve. But then all this wasbacked by admirable training and full knowledge. He was a deeply read,cultivated[2] man, a fine critic, and, with all his arrogance, despotism,and rough "ways," a most interesting, original, delightful person—forthose he liked that is, and whom he had made his own. His very "build"and appearance was also that of the redoubtable Doctor: so was his loudand hearty laugh. Woe betide the man on whom he chose to "wipe hisshoes" (Browning's phrase), for he could wipe them with a will. He wouldthus roar you down. It was "intol-er-able"—everything was"in-tol-erable!"—it is difficult to describe the fashion in which herolled forth the syllables. Other things were "all Stuff!" "Monstrous!""Incredible!" "Don't tell me!" Indeed I, with many, could find aparallel in the great old Doctor for almost everything he said. Evenwhen there was a smile at his vehemence, he would unconsciously repeatthe Doctor's autocratic methods.
Forster's life was indeed a striking and encouraging one for those whobelieve in the example of "self-made men." His aim was somewhatdifferent from the worldly types, who set themselves to becomewealthy, or to have lands or mansions. Forster's more moderateaspiration was to reach to the foremost rank of the literary world:and he succeeded. He secured for himself an excellent education, neverspared himself for study or work, and never rested till he had builthimself that noble mansion at Kensington, of which I have spoken,furnished with books, pictures, and rare things. Here he could,Mæcenas-like, entertain his literary friends of all[3] degrees, with avast number of other friends and acquaintances, notable in their walksof 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 asmuch as his friend of Chelsea did, who once asked me, "What is therenew about our Jew Premier?"): Maclise, Landseer, Frith, andStanfield, with dozens of other painters: every writer of the day,almost without exception, late or early. With these, such as AnthonyTrollope, he was on the friendliest terms, though he did not "grapplethem to him with hooks of steel." With the Bar it was the