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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.
It was a whirlpool into which one was drawn unresistingly. It suffered no pondering, no immersion in an unalterable past. Everything in it urged and impelled forward. Here was the present, nothing but the present. Arthur Stoss seemed already to have one foot planted on Webster and Forster's stage. There was much parleying in regard to Ingigerd's appearance in theatre.
I was discussing with Summers the meaning of the new departure and of the success of Forster's assailants, when the old hall-porter of the club burst into the room, and in a state of great agitation announced to us that a message had been received at the Carlton Club stating that the Lord Lieutenant and the Chief Secretary had been assassinated.
At length I could not see a happy company or a gay multitude without falling into a sadness that marred and blighted everything. All joyous life, seen in the light of this doctrine, seemed to me but a horrible mockery. It is evident that John Forster's doubts sprung from the same cause.
This was Lord Rosebery, and to him and to Forster belongs the lion's share of the credit for the creation and development of that sense of Imperial unity which is to-day so great a factor in the life of the Empire. At that time Forster's friends had no suspicion that his public career was drawing to a close. He was many years younger than Mr.
Forster's sneer, repeated by later writers, that the public account of the voyage owed more to the editing of Canon Douglas than to the writing of Cook. Soon after Cook's arrival in London, Furneaux handed him his Journal of the proceedings of the Adventure from the time of their separation off the coast of New Zealand.
There was one rising young politician, however, who took a different view of Forster's action, and who not only sympathised with his motives, but threw himself into the cause of which he was the leader.
Trouble broke out in Ireland, and in January 1881 Parliament was summoned to pass Mr. Forster's Coercion Act. My diary for that date supplies me with the following excellent imitation of a veteran Poet of Freedom rushing with ardent sympathy into the Irish struggle. By the time that these lines were written the late Mr.
He always took his tune whether in or out of church from his superior, ejecting a small treble "He, he, he!" in response to the loud Ha, ha, ha! of the curate. "Peace be unto this house!" observed the curate as he crossed the threshold, for Mrs Forster's character was notorious; then laughing at his own wit with a Ha, ha, ha! "He, he, he!" "Good morning, Mr Forster, how is your good lady?"
Forster looked at the child, who smiled, as if in gratitude; but his attention was called away by the Newfoundland dog, who fawned upon him, and after having received his caresses, squatted down upon the sand, which he beat with his tail as he looked wistfully in Forster's face. Forster took the child from the arms of its new mother.
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