In him this capacity
amounted to genius.
In all respects he was of great stature. His contemporaries called him a
colossus, the literary Goliath, the Giant, the great Cham of literature,
a tremendous companion. His frame was majestic; he strode when he
walked, and his physical strength and courage were heroic. His mode of
speaking was 'very impressive,' his utterance 'deliberate and strong.'
His conversation was compared to 'an antique statue, where every vein
and muscle is distinct and bold.' From boyhood throughout his life his
companions naturally deferred to him, and he dominated them without
effort. But what overcame the harshness of this autocracy, and made it
reasonable, was the largeness of a nature that loved men and was ever
hungry for knowledge of them. 'Sir,' said he, 'I look upon every day
lost in which I do not make a new acquaintance.' And again: 'Why, Sir, I
am a man of the world. I live in the world, and I take, in some degree,
the color of the world as it moves along.
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