Charles Dickens was one of Landor’s warmest admirers; he loved him dearly, and, as the saying goes, “all round.” He understood, and was even amused, by his outbursts of eloquent vituperation, and the character he has drawn of Boythorn in “Bleak House” is true to the very life.
A school-fellow thus describes him: “In those days he was the most impetuous of schoolboys, now he is the most impetuous of men; then the loudest boy in the world, now the loudest of men; then the sturdiest boy in the world, now the sturdiest man; then the heartiest boy in the world, now the heartiest man. Talking or laughing he makes the very house shake. But it is the inside of the man, the warm heart of the man, the passion of the man, the fresh blood of the man. His language is as astounding as his voice. He is always in extremes, frequently in the superlative degree. He talks sometimes like an ogre, which some people believe him to be. No one could be more aware of his irascibility than Landor himself, who told me, amid shouts of laughter, how he had overheard a peasant at his own Florentine villa describing him in these terms: ‘Oh, he’s a capital good fellow, but—— he’s a real devil when the fit’s upon him.’”[[67]]
[67]. “Il signor è un vero Galant uomo, ma è un vero diavolo quando la piglia.”
Dear “gentle savage,” our whole household loved him—mother, son, daughters, and every dog in the house and yard. He would often come over to see us from Bath at our little woodland home at Millard’s Hill, and he erected at his own expense a large stone cross on the banks of Marston lake (the estate of my uncle, Lord Cork). The pedestal bore the inscription: “This symbol of safety was intended to mark the spot where Carolina Boyle[[68]] fell into the water, whence her sister’s courage rescued her.” Sooth to say, my exertions were rather a sign of strength than courage, for, walking by the side of the lake, I heard the terrible cry, “Help!” and coming up to the place, I leaped into the boat, and succeeded with much difficulty in lifting “Caddy”[[69]] into the same. I say with difficulty, as she was much bigger and taller than myself, and her clothes were entirely full of water, hanging for more than half an hour by the frail support of a willow branch, by which she was enabled to keep her head above water; the time was marked by the chimes of the clock at Marston House, which were distinctly audible on the lake. I have learned since, to my surprise and regret, that this interesting relic, namely the cross, has been removed.
[68]. The Honourable Carolina Boyle, daughter of Admiral the Honourable Sir Courtenay Boyle, K.C.B.
[69]. Ibid.
Dear “gentle savage!” It is true that his voice was powerful enough to shake the house, but how tender, how musical, when he chose to modulate it! There is nothing I love more than to hear a poet read his own poems aloud, a favour in which the dear Laureate[[70]] has often indulged me. One day I brought two books to Landor, accompanied by a petition for the same boon. Two precious volumes, inasmuch as they were the respective gifts of our friend, G. P. R. James, and himself. In “Pericles and Aspasia” I requested him to read me the touching letter beginning “There is a gloom in deep love as in deep water,” which has ever struck me as one of the most exquisite passages in English prose, and in the “Pentameron” the book opened of itself at “Boccaccio’s Dream,” when he is blessed by the lovely vision of his lost “Fiammietta.”
[70]. Alfred, first Lord Tennyson.
More than half a century has passed away since that lecture under the shade of the sycamore in our little garden, but the tones of that voice that is gone still vibrate in my memory.