CHAPTER XXXVI.
It remains to record a few anecdotes of him, some of which, at least, do him the highest honour. During the whole period of his residence in Norfolk with his sister, which altogether amounted to eleven weeks, he never drank more than two glasses of wine after dinner, and never touched a single drop of spirits.—He was most frequently satisfied with one glass of wine. He talked familiarly with the family, joined them in their walks, and principally amused himself with a Greek manuscript belonging to Dr. Clark, which that traveller had brought home with him from Greece or Syria.
He was, from his childhood, a very bad sleeper; and it is to be feared, for it is no unusual case, that he may have been led to occasional indulgences with regard to wine, with the view of procuring sleep. But he was also of a very social disposition, and the universal desire of his company, might eventually cause this to be imposed upon. One thing, it is believed, may positively be insisted upon, that he was never guilty of any intemperance in solitude; and his behaviour when under his sister’s roof, shows that he could easily accommodate himself to the disposition and manners of the people among whom he was thrown.
The anecdote next about to be related, will perhaps excite surprize in many, but its authenticity cannot be disputed.
Porson, when in Norfolk with his sister, went regularly to church, nor was he ever prevented from so doing, except when under the influence of one of the violent paroxysms of asthma, to which he was subject.—These were occasionally so formidable, that apprehensions were often entertained, that he would expire in the presence of his friends. On his first visit to Norfolk, in 1804, he accompanied his brother-in-law to the adjoining village church of Horstead. Porson found that preparations were made to administer the sacrament.—When the usual service of prayers and sermon was ended, and they were about to leave the church, Porson stopped suddenly, and asked Mr. Hawes, if in his opinion there would be any impropriety in his receiving the sacrament. Mr. Hawes instantly replied, “certainly not.” Upon this, they both turned back, and received the communion together.
This was an extraordinary fact; and on the part of Porson suggests a singular question. Perhaps he might feel some hesitation from the circumstance of his being a total stranger to the clergyman who officiated; or perhaps it might have reference to the consciousness of his avowed non-conformity to the articles. The matter must remain undecided.
Singular as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that Porson did not hold ⸺ in so high a degree of estimation as might have been expected from the exalted station, which this venerable personage has invariably enjoyed in the kingdom of letters. It would be invidious, as it is quite unnecessary, to be circumstantial; but the fact was so.
On one occasion, when this personage was enjoying his afternoon’s pipe, he turned triumphantly to the Greek Professor, and remarked, “Porson, with all your learning, I do not think you well versed in metaphysics.” “I presume you mean your metaphysics,” was the reply.
At another time, when something which this gentleman had written and published much interested the public attention, and occasioned many squibs, paragraphs, and controversial letters in the newspapers, Porson wrote the following epigram:
“Perturbed spirits spare your ink,
And beat your stupid brains no longer,
Then to oblivion soon would sink,
Your persecuted ⸺monger.”
On the other hand, it is to be observed, that this eminent man, for so he was, invariably spoke of Porson in terms of the highest admiration and regard.
Whatever might be the case with respect to the person above alluded to, Porson was never at any pains to conceal his extreme contempt for Wakefield. There was at one time a seeming sort of friendly communication; but whilst Wakefield aimed at being thought on a level with Porson in point of attainments, this latter must unavoidably have felt the consciousness of his own great superiority.—Indeed, the difference between them was immense. Without disparagement to Wakefield, his warmest advocates must acknowledge, that although he formed his opinions hastily, he never failed to vindicate them with peremptory decision. In consequence of this eagerness and haste, his criticisms were frequently erroneous, and his conclusions false; neither, if detected in error, would his pride allow him either to confess, or retract his fault. The writer of this article once pointed out to him a very great error in his translation of the New Testament; he acknowledged it at the time, but the second edition appeared, and the same error was repeated: he might possibly have forgotten it. Porson, on the contrary, never declared or formed his critical opinions (for of such we are now speaking) hastily.—He patiently examined, seriously deliberated, and was generally correct in his decisions; nevertheless, he quietly listened to the arguments of opponents, and was neither irritable nor pertinacious. How erroneous an estimate Wakefield had formed of Porson, is sufficiently apparent from the Posthumous Letters between him and Mr. Fox.
W. appears to tell that eminent Statesman, with a sort of ill-natured exultation, that nine hundred errors had been detected in the edition of Heynes’ Virgil, corrected, as he is pleased to call it, by Porson. The fact is not so. The errors were certainly very numerous; but the office of press corrector was far beneath the dignity of Porson, and what mistakes there are, are principally confined to the notes, which a single glance from a critical reader, will in a moment detect and amend. The errors of the text, which is of more material importance, did not exceed twenty in all the four volumes.
Again, at p. 99, of the work above quoted, Mr. Wakefield is pleased thus to express himself: after assigning two reasons for not having more frequent intercourse with Porson, he gives as a third:
“The uninteresting insipidity of his society, as it is impossible to engage his mind on any topic of mutual enquiry, to procure his opinion on any author, or on any passage of an author, or to elicit any conversation of any kind, to compensate for the time and attendance of his company. And as for Homer, Virgil, and Horace, I never could hear of the least critical effort on them in his life.
“He is in general devoid of all human affections, but such as he has, are of a misanthropic quality; nor do I think that any man exists, for whom his propensities rise to the lowest pitch of affection and esteem. He much resembles Proteus in Lycophron,
“ῳ γενως απεχθεται
Και δακρυ.”
The whole of the paragraph, and every particle of the affirmation which it contains, is as foolish as it is false. Porson’s conversation insipid! The appeal may safely be made to many characters now living, to Dr. Parr, Dr. Charles, Burney, Judge Dampier, the Provost of Eton, Sir James Mackintosh, Mr. Sharp, Mr. Perry, and to many, many others, whether his conversation among his intimate acquaintance, did not invariably and irresistibly demonstrate intellect, information, and knowledge. That he was not very communicative with Mr. Wakefield on subjects of criticism and abstract erudition, may readily be accounted for.—He despised Wakefield’s attainments of this kind, in the first instance; and in the next, had reason to apprehend that improper use might be made of what he might utter. Mr. Wakefield could not pretend to much of “human affection” in the declaration of his controversial opinions, but cut and slashed, and threw his dirt about, without any compunctious feeling.
It may be asserted, without fear of contradiction, that if any friend or acquaintance consulted the Greek Professor, on any difficult passage of any author, he readily communicated his aid, and would, if required, discuss such subjects in conversation.
That our friend was not “devoid of all human affections,” examples have already been adduced; that he was “misanthropic,” is an assertion equally absurd. He was, perhaps, too social; and it was this love of society, which frequently betrayed him into inadvertencies. As to the Greek quotation with which this curious passage ends, all that can be said is, it does not apply to Porson.
Mr. Wakefield proceeds to observe, “I will be content to forfeit the esteem and affection of all mankind, whenever the least particle of envy or malignity is found to mingle itself with my opinions.” Let the reader contrast this declaration with the letter, given in a preceding part of this narrative, and printed from his own hand-writing. Let him also compare this expression of Wakefield’s with the diatribe which he addressed to Porson, on his publication of the Hecuba.
A few more anecdotes, from personal knowledge, shall close this part of our narrative. Porson once accompanied the Sexagenarian in a walk to Highgate. On their return, they were overtaken by a most violent rain, and both of them were thoroughly drenched to the skin. As soon as they arrived at home, warm and dry things were prepared for both; but Porson obstinately refused to change his clothes. He drank three glasses of brandy, but sate in his wet things all the evening. The exhalation, of course, was not the most agreeable; but he did not apparently suffer any subsequent inconvenience.
There was a lady, who was allied to some of the best families in the kingdom, exceedingly agreeable, and very accomplished, who took great pleasure in the conversation and society of Porson. He, on his part, was very partial to her; and she it was who was the occasion of his composing those excellent Charades, which have found their way into many of the public prints, but of which an accurate copy has no where hitherto appeared. They were principally composed in his walks from his chambers, to the house of the author of this narrative, and will be found in the Appendix.
Και ομως ετολμησαμεν ημείς, τα ουτως εχοντα, προς αλληλα ξυναγκγειν και ξυναρμοσαι.