nsultation,
often when I was there. He was a most agreeable person, without any
affectation; while Forster maintained a sort of patriarchal or
paternal manner to him, though there was not much difference in their
ages. Indeed, on this point, Forster well illustrated what has been
often said of Mr. Pickwick and his time, that age has been much "put
back" since that era. Mr. Pickwick, Wardle, Tupman and Co., are all
described as old gentlemen, none of the party being over fifty; but
they had to dress up to the part of old gentlemen, and with the aid of
corpulence, "circular spectacles," &c, conveyed the idea of seventy.
Forster in the same way was then not more than forty-five, but had a
full-blown official look, and with his grave, solemn utterances, you
would have set him down for sixty. Now-a-days men of that age, if in
sound order, feel, behave, and dress as men of forty. Your _real_ old
man does not begin till he is about seventy-five or so.

Browning having an acquaintance that was both "extensive and
peculiar," could retail much gossip and always brought plenty of news
with him: to hear which Forster did seriously incline. The Poet, too,
had a pleasant flavour of irony or cynicism in his talk, but nothing
ill-natured. What a pleasant Sunday that was when Frederick Chapman,
the publisher, invited me and Forster, and Browning, with one or two
more, whose names I have forgotten, down to Teddington. It was the
close of a sultry summer's day, we had a cool and enjoyable repast,
with many a joke and retailed story. Thus, "I was stopped to-day,"
said Browning, "by a strange, dilapidated being. Who do you think it
was? After a moment, it took the shape of old Harrison Ainsworth." "A
strange, dilapidated being," repeated Forster, musingly, "so the man
is alive." Then both fell into reminiscences of grotesque traits, &c.
This affectionate intercourse long continued. But alas! this
_compulsory_ Sunday dining, as the philosopher knows, became at last a
sore strain, and a mistake. It must come to Goldsmith's "travelling
over one's mind," with power to travel no farther. Browning, too, had
been "found out by Society"; was the guest at noble houses, and I
suppose became somewhat lofty in his views. No one could scoff so
loudly and violently as could Forster, at what is called snobbishness,
"toadying the great"; though it was a little weakness of his own, and
is indeed of everybody. However, on some recent visit, I learned to my