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.