e, or Guizot, or Palmerston said
to me in my room," etc. But you could not but be struck by the
finished shapes in which his sentences ran. There was a weight, a
power of illustration, and a dramatic colouring that could only have
come of long practice. He was gay, sarcastic, humorous, and it was
impossible not to recognise that here was a clever man and a man of
power.

Forster's ideal of hospitality was not reciprocity, but was bounded by
_his_ entertaining everybody. Not that he did not enjoy a friendly
quiet dinner at your table. Was he on his travels at a strange place?
_You_ must dine with him at his hotel. In town you must dine with him.
He might dine with you. This dining with you must be according to his
programme. When he was in the vein and inclined for a social domestic
night he would let himself out.

Maclise's happy power of realising character is shown inimitably in
the picture of Forster at the reading of _The Christmas Carol_, seated
forward in his chair, with a solemn air of grave judgment. There is an
air of distrust, or of being on his guard, as who should say, "It is
fine, very fine, but I hold my opinion in suspense till the close. I
am not to be caught as you are, by mere flowers." He was in fact
distinct from the rest, all under the influence of emotion. Harness is
shown weeping, Jerrold softened, etc. These rooms, as is well known,
were Mr. Tulkinghorn's in the novel, and over Forster's head, as he
wrote, was the floridly-painted ceiling, after the fashion of Verrio,
with the Roman pointing. This was effaced many years ago, but I do not
know when.

By all his friends Forster was thought of as a sort of permanent
bachelor. His configuration and air were entirely suited to life in
chambers: he was thoroughly literary; his friends were literary; there
he gave his dinners; married life with him was inconceivable. He had
lately secured an important official post, that of Secretary to the
Lunacy Commissioners, which he gained owing to his useful services when
editing the _Examiner_. This necessarily led to the Commissionership,
which was worth a good deal more. Nowadays we do not find the editors of
the smaller papers securing such prizes. I remember when he was
encouraging me to "push my way," he illustrated his advice by his own
example: "I never let old Brougham go. I came back again and again
until I wore him out. I forced 'em to give me this." I could quite
imagine it. Forster was a troubleso