Perhaps what he was in general society may be best shown by the impression he made on acquaintances of various tastes and habits whom from time to time he casually met. Among the many tributes of respect to his memory and to "his sterling qualities both of heart and mind," which the writer has received, one or two may be selected bearing on the salient points of his character. A recent friend, who with his lady were the last guests who were staying with him before he left Malvern for Scotland, writes, "I cannot let this opportunity pass without offering my humble tribute of respect to your late husband's memory. My acquaintance with Mr. Roby was, as you are aware, of brief duration, but I can most unaffectedly, and with sincere gratitude say, that during that period, I learned much of him—more than I ever learned in my life from any single person. It was impossible to be with him without catching something of his earnestness and enthusiasm. Would he had been spared! His death was a severe loss to me. I had hoped to enjoy his society during the coming summer, to mature in his company those tastes which, if he did not infuse into me, he certainly roused from their dormancy. But this was not to be! Like all who ever came into contact with him, I was struck, on my introduction to Mr. Roby, by the variety of his acquirements, then by their elegant intellectual character. His energy in the acquisition of knowledge had amassed a great store of material for intellectual enjoyment—his wonderful "order" had arranged it in the happiest and most available manner. I think I never in my life saw a man of greater mental activity. He had no lounging moments. And yet I saw but the relaxation of his mind."
One who knew him intimately the last two years of his life remarks, "Few persons I should imagine could have been in Mr. Roby's society without feeling a peculiar charm, a gladdening influence, which made life appear bright and genial. Intercourse with him, invariably gave me a sense of power: this made me from the first recognise him as a man of genius. A magician in the regions of the ideal himself, he seemed to inspire his listener with the same mastery over its elements. Whatever might be the topic under notice, it stood out with new beauty as he handled it. His conversation, enriched from a thousand sources, sparkled like the many facets of the well-cut diamond."
A very old friend who ranks among the first dramatists of the day in speaking of intercourse in years long since departed, characterised him as "a man of rich imagination, and the warmest and soundest heart." Adding in confirmation of the latter trait, "I was a perfect stranger when he received me as a brother, and took on himself the entire management of a course of lectures which I delivered in Rochdale several years ago, and which proved to be very remunerative chiefly through his cordially-exerted influence."
Another in writing of him, after dwelling with affectionate admiration on other traits of character, notices "his great good nature and kindness of heart, particularly the good-humoured manner in which he bore the expression of opinions different from his own, which by many would not have been taken so patiently. The extreme versatility of his talents placed at his command, acquirements the most varied, such as few persons attain to, and his kind and agreeable manner of imparting the knowledge he possessed was equally remarkable. His talent and exquisite humour in relating one of his stories or an old tradition, I can scarcely imagined to have been equalled."
Several friends have remarked that during their last interview with him, the conversation turned to the highest subjects, in some cases terminating by a short striking remark on his part, too valuable to be forgotten. A slight instance of this occurred in his last conversation with the friend just quoted. It happened to be on a subject often discussed before,—art in connection with religion as exemplified in the fine old ecclesiastical structures of our country. No one possessed a deeper sense of their beauty than himself, but his mind at the same time comprehended the possibility of losing sight of the spiritual in admiration of the material, and at the close of the conversation, his last words were, "Well good bye, remember we must not worship wood and stone." The aptness of the remark, the tone in which it was uttered, fixed it in the memory of the listener, and it is now treasured as a parting warning. There is a sacred pleasure in dwelling on conversations like these, involving high moral truths, elements of the intercourse yet to be renewed.
It was always in a circle narrower than that of general society, that he was seen to most advantage. When he felt he was surrounded only by those of congenial tastes he came out truly himself. His conversation then flowed without any restraint, he blended the ideal with the real in a way that showed a spirit gifted
"To pierce the mist o'er life's deep meanings spread."
A distinguished essayist of the present century compares himself to those toys which we sometimes see formed of box within box. His outer character he tells us was visible to all; to friends in proportion to their intimacy he threw off case after case; the sight of the innermost was reserved for himself, or for only one other. So here too was a narrower circle within that of closest friendship, where one more covering cast aside, his character displayed itself without any reserve. What he might have been to the valet "who looked at him with valet eyes," the writer knows not, but by one to whom that character was bared as to none besides, so far from seeming any less from the intimate acquaintance of daily life, its true nobleness was only then fully recognised. It is not every character that bears the near scrutiny afforded by insight through the little things of life. Fewer still grow "right worshipful" under such inspection. He did both. His feelings repressed, as we have seen in childhood, he had not been in the habit of expressing them freely to the objects of his affection. The writer learned far more of the strength of his love for his children, from remarks he made when alone with her, and from the regard he paid to the effect which any step he took might have on their welfare, than from any ordinary demonstrations to them. The anxiety he evinced during the first holidays his boys spent with her, that she should understand them, and the pains he took to draw out the most interesting points of their characters, told more forcibly than words, his concern for their happiness. Though he rarely joined in their amusements himself, yet the quiet delight with which he would stand and watch when she happened to do anything of the kind showed how dear even their pleasures were to him.
It has been a common reproach against literary men, that they are undesirable companions in private life, prone to betray unworthy jealousy of the talents of those around them; though brilliant in society, fretful or unsocial at home. Here was one more added to the many examples of the contrary. Neither mirth nor talents, courtesy nor generous feeling, nor any thing that adorns or makes life happy, was reserved like holiday attire for going abroad. One who though admitting he could not brook defeat at his favourite chess, from any other lady, would yet say he should have lost the game to his wife with pleasure, because he should feel her triumph his own, could not have been an undesirable home companion.
It is by trifles such as these, that what the gifted are in private life is seen. That it may not invariably be thus is admitted, but the solution is easy. Fireside happiness depends not on the presence or absence of talent, but on the harmony of natural disposition, character, and taste. Genius neither commands this, nor can supply its deficiency. It only renders its possessor more keenly alive to the want of congeniality, and those around perchance more wretched from the conscious lack of power to make its happiness. The man of genius may not only make home the most blessed spot on earth, but with the blessing of God give a brilliancy and an intensity to domestic happiness, which none besides can; peopling the wastes of every day life, with bright thoughts that never die, till little is left of mortal existence, that is not to be continued in the higher life to come.