In the year 1774, when Porson was about fourteen years of age, and had
been under the care of Mr. H. for two years, he had already discovered a
most extraordinary quickness of parts.
His acquirements, indeed, even at that early period, and his remarkable
powers of abstraction and of memory, the force of his intellect in
whatever direction it was excited, induced in the breast of Mr. Norris a
desire of extending the scale of his education.—It was determined to send
him to Eton.
A circumstance relating to this event is communicated by his family,
so much out of the ordinary mode of proceeding in similar cases, that
a little suspicion of its accuracy may, without offence, be indulged.
It is stated by his relations, that previously to his being admitted
at Eton, Mr. Norris sent Porson to Cambridge, to be examined as to his
proficiency in the classics, by the Greek Professor.—This was in the
midsummer of 1774. It is added, that in his examination, he displayed so
much talent, and such extensive acquirements, that he was sent to Eton in
the following summer, viz. in 1775.
Now, if this really were the fact, it is more than probable that such
an incident never took place before, and can only be explained by the
possible circumstance, that the Greek Professor, who was at that period
Dr. ⸺, was an intimate friend of Mr. Norris, and from a natural curiosity
on his part, was entreated to perform this office. But there exists a
still stronger reason for supposing there must be some mistake in this
matter. Many of his schoolfellows at Eton still survive, and they all
affirm, without any variation, that when Porson first went to Eton, he
was not particularly distinguished above the other boys, either for
learning, acquirements, or studious habits. Further than this, it is said
by one, who is well qualified to judge, that is, by no less a personage
than the present amiable and learned ⸺, that as a boy, he discovered but
an indifferent taste, and in his compositions was very fond of mixing
Greek with his Latin, as thus, “_ingemuere ποθοι_,” &c. &c.
It may perhaps be the fact, that there is a little confusion and mistake
with regard to dates. Porson was necessarily and officially examined by
the Greek Professor, when he sate, as it is termed, for the university
scholarship; and he might, after his admission at college, and before
his actual residence, go down to Cambridge from Eton, or, not improbably
in some interval of the holidays, from his friends in Norfolk, for this
particular purpose.
It is very certain, that his contemporaries at Eton, with little,
very little exception, do not remember much about him. The following
particulars concerning him at this period, may, however, be depended
upon, being either communicated by himself, or from authority which
cannot be doubted.
When at Eton, he wrote two dramatic pieces, and acted in them himself.
All, however, that is remembered of either is, that one was more
elaborate than the other, and indicated more of plot, ingenuity, and
contrivance.—The title of it was, “Out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.”
The other was a shorter piece, of less importance, and was occasioned by
some private circumstance, or anecdote, among the boys themselves.
It is an extraordinary, but well attested fact concerning him, that the
first book he ever read with attention was Chambers’s Dictionary, which
he fairly and regularly perused from beginning to end. He was always fond
of algebra, and was a very skilful algebraist.—He taught himself the
principles from the above dictionary.
After Porson left Eton to reside at Cambridge, a very long time elapsed
without there being any intercourse between him and his family. This
circumstance has brought upon him, particularly in Norfolk, the severest
censure. Yet that this apparent, and indeed culpable neglect, did not
entirely arise from insensibility to the ties of nature and of blood, is
very certain.—Porson was undoubtedly not deficient in filial reverence.
His sister had not seen her brother for twenty-two years, when, in
1804, she wrote to inform him, that her father was exceedingly ill,
and considered as being in great danger. Porson immediately went down
to Norfolk to see him, and at that time continued for seven weeks with
his sister. The old gentleman recovered; but when seized with his dying
illness, two years afterwards, Porson was again written to by his sister,
and again replied to her letter by his presence. This was his last visit
into Norfolk, when he passed a month at Coltishall. Now, it must be
acknowledged, that these facts demonstrate any thing rather than filial
ingratitude, and tell with the candid mind, more than a hundred idle
stories to his disadvantage. The writer of this narrative has also a
strong impression, that he used to send clothes and occasional presents
to his brothers; though he certainly did not write to any of the family,
which, of course, they resented. He had, indeed, a very great repugnance
to writing letters, and when he did so, his epistles were concise, stiff,
and formal.—A specimen or two will hereafter be given. He certainly did
not want sensibility; though his coldness, and reserve of demeanour,
might reasonably excite the suspicion that he was unfeeling.
He spent the evening with him, whose notes now record the fact, when
the last year of his being permitted to retain the benefits of his
fellowship, expired.—It could not easily be obliterated from the
memory.—His indignation at not being appointed to a lay fellowship in his
college, then vacant; his resentment on perusing the letter which coldly
apologised for giving it to another, with a recommendation to him, which
he felt as the bitterest insult, to take orders; the anguish he expressed
at the gloom of his prospects, without a sixpence in the world; his
grief; and, finally, his tears; excited an impression of sympathy, which
could never be forgotten.
Another proof that he was not insensible of kindness, deserves also to be
recorded. He had borrowed, on some occasion or other, of our Sexagenarian
a sum of money. Of course, he was never asked for it, nor in the remotest
degree reminded of it. After an interval of more than four years, he came
one day, in the familiar manner to which he was accustomed, and said, “I
am come to dine, and have brought you the money I owe you—I suppose you
thought I had forgotten it.”
On his first arrival at college, he of course did not possess a very
extensive library, and he used to go to the present Provost of Eton’s
rooms, to read Suidas and Plutarch’s Morals; and even at that early
period proposed some very curious critical emendations.
A very singular circumstance occurred about this period, which there may
be some who are able to explain—it is not attempted here. Some person or
other had taken a copy of Eustathius from Eton college library, and had
conveyed it to Cambridge. It was here lent to Porson, who made excellent
use of it. The following paragraph is verbatim from our manuscript. “The
book was afterwards returned to Eton college, where it now remains, it is
to be hoped, as Bonaparte said of the Belvidere Apollo, “_pour jamais_.”
The expression of “it is to be hoped,” is made use of, because the very
extraordinary fact not long since occurred of some most rare, curious,
and valuable books finding their way from the venerable precincts of a
Cathedral library, to the shelves of a private collection.—May the fate
of this Eustathius be different! At present, at least, whoever pleases
may see it in Eton college library, enriched by a number of notes by
Porson in the margin.”
Porson had a very lofty mind, and was tenacious of his proper dignity.
Where he was familiar and intimate, he was exceedingly condescending
and good-natured. He was kind to children, and would often play with
them, but he was at no pains to conceal his partiality, where there were
several in one family. In one which he often visited, there was a little
girl of whom he was exceedingly fond; he often brought her trifling
presents, wrote in her books, and distinguished her on every occasion,
but she had a brother to whom, for no assignable reason, he never spoke,
nor would in any respect, notice. He was also fond of female society, and
though too frequently negligent of his person, was of the most obliging
manners and behaviour, and would read a play, or recite, or do any thing
that was required.
He was very fond of crab fish, and on one occasion, where he was very
intimate, asked to have one for supper; his friend jocularly said, that
he should have the finest in St. James’s Market, if he would go thither,
buy, and bring it home himself. He disappeared in an instant, and
marched unconcerned through some of the most gay streets of London with
the crab triumphantly in his hand.
Much has been said of his irregularities.—That odious theme is left
to others. With all his errors and eccentricities, he who wrote this,
loved him much, bowed with reverence to his talents, and admiration to
his learning, and acknowledged with gratitude the delight and benefit
he received from his society and conversation. Yet Porson by no means
excelled in conversation; he neither wrote nor spoke with facility.
His elocution was perplexed and embarrassed, except where he was
exceedingly intimate; but there was strong indication of intellect in his
countenance, and whatever he said was manifestly founded on judgment,
sense, and knowledge. Composition was no less difficult to him. Upon one
occasion, he undertook to write a dozen lines upon a subject which he had
much turned in his mind, and with which he was exceedingly familiar. But
the number of erasures and interlineations was so great as to render it
hardly legible; yet, when completed, it was, and is, a memorial of his
sagacity, acuteness, and erudition.
Cujus uti memoro rei simulacrum et imago
Ante oculos semper nobis versatur et instat.