and Mr. Watson would have appeared to much posure when he was young, was found, on ex more advantage in his old vocation of making versions for Bohn's "blue-book series," than in coming forth as the biographer of Porson. Still, however, we are under obligations to him for giving us a very readable work, and one that can not fail to prove interesting to the rising generation of scholars, if we have any such non-descripts in this utilitarian and bank-note land of ours. Richard Bentley and Richard Porson, the two Classical Richards of England, though of high emprise in deeds of scholarship, were both of lowly origin, mere proletarians, as the learned would say. The former was the son either of a tanner or a blacksmith (how fiercely old Cumberland used to kick at this, and insist that "grandfather Bentley" sprang from a family of rank and consideration!); the other was the son of a weaver, who was also clerk of the parish. Both, however, had remarkable mothers. Bentley's mother was a woman of excellent understanding, and taught him his Latin Accidence. Porson's, though of limited education, was familiar with the plays of Shakspeare, and fond of repeating the more popular and striking passages." Aha!" some advocate of "Woman's Rights" will here exclaim, "Physiology! Doric mothers! Transmission of intellectual qualities!" Very true. But then, these same estimable females, Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Porson, also cooked their husbands' dinners, kept their rooms clean, and carefully observed the other minor morals of housekeeping, which is a good deal more than most of our present "Doric mothers" do. Porson's father, however, must also come in for his own share of praise. Though he had never read Æschylus, he still believed Memory to be "the mother of the Muses," and at a very early period set about cultivating in his son that peculiar faculty for which the latter became so conspicuous in after-years. Here we have young Master Dick, hatless, shoeless, slateless, and of course pencilless, figuring out sums in his own head, under the watchful ken of the old weaver, until, before he had completed his ninth year, the little fellow could work, by the unaided operations of his own brain, a question in the cube root. No wonder that the boy, when first sent to school, soon floored his teacher in arithmetic, and was pointed out as "the fellow who had beat the master!" No wonder, too, that the habit of mental concentration thus early acquired led the way to that astonishing development of the powers of memory for which he became so famous in after-days. With the doctrine of "bumps" we do not here intend to meddle (thorough heretics though we are on this point), not wishing to arouse the ire of Professor Fowler; but certainly, if that quality of the mind which we term memory can not be actually created, yet it may be improved to an extent of which Porson was a most felicitous instance. Talking of Porson's running about in early life without a hat, it may be as well to remark, that the popular belief, which at one time prevailed, that Porson's skull, owing probably to this ex amination after death, to be of uncommon thickness, rests on no foundation whatever, but, much to the satisfaction, we may suppose, of the followers of Helvetius, was very like the skulls of other men. His The village prodigy soon excited the attention of the higher classes in the neighborhood, and arrangements were speedily made to give the boy a more regular education. He was at first placed under a private classical instructor, and, a fund having been raised for that purpose, was afterward, at the age of fifteen, transferred to Eton. Of his progress at this famous seat of learning we have only a meagre account. instructors there, fettered by their "longs and shorts," and viewing every thing through the medium of "verse-making optics," appear to have rated him at rather a low figure. According to Porson's own statement, however, in afteryears, he added but little to his acquirements at Eton, having read, before he went thither, almost all that was required from him in the school, and his chief delight here was hunting rats in the Long Hall! Only to think of those "distant spires," and "antique towers," and (horrid profanation) of "grateful science" adoring "her Henry's holy shade," and of young Porson, the future successor of Bentley, hunting rats in the holes and corners of that venerated edifice! One feels tempted to introduce a new reading into Gray's celebrated Ode: "What idle progeny succeed To chace the rat with frolic speed, From Eton next to the University of Cambridge, from the rat-abounding Long Hall to the proud portals of Trinity. Here again but little is known of the youth, except that the hunting for rats was succeeded by the hunting for roots, and that the talents which had remained undiscovered at Eton, gained for him the "Craven University Scholarship," without difficulty, in December, 1781. The epitaph "On the young Alexis," translated into Greek Iambics, which formed part of the examination for this prize, and which Porson is said to have completed in less than an hour, with the help only of Morell's Thesaurus, is given by Watson, Maltby, Kidd, and others. As these learned pundits, however, differ from one another in the fourth line, will some one of our college friends have the goodness to tell us what the true reading is? Bachelor in 1782, and third senior optime among eighteen wranglers, soon afterward first chancellor's medallist, and, in the same year still, elected fellow of Trinity, an exception having been made in his case on account of his eminent abilities; such was Porson's early record, unstained as yet by the excesses of the wine-cup, and marked by habits of rigorous and persevering application. But now the scene changes. In proportion as he becomes distinguished his society is sought after, convivial habits are either formed or confirmed, and Porson, the first scholar of England, the Greek Professor of Cambridge, the great critic, the demolisher of Travis, the castigator of Hermann, the far-famed editor of Euripides, passes regularly through the gradations of boon companion, tippler, and sot, and dies the death of a drunkard! Those of our readers who wish to obtain a more intimate acquaintance with the details of Porson's life, we must refer to the work of Mr. Watson, which, imperfect though it be, will still be found to supply a great desideratum. Our present object is merely to give a popular account of the man, and we think that this object will be best accomplished by grouping together some of the more remarkable points of view under which his character is presented to us. I-PORSON AS A CRITIC. ing about doubtful alterations; for we can not help suspecting that the reading is right which requires many words to prove it wrong, and that the emendation is wrong, which can not without so much labor appear to be right. Bentley was often presumptuous and rash; Porson was to all critics an example of caution. Before he operated upon a passage, he took care to ascertain what others had done. He consulted not only commentaries, but translations, and, as we are assured on good authority, never wrote a note on any passage of an ancient author without carefully looking how it had been rendered by the different translators. In the style of his notes Porson is entitled to high praise. His Latinity is clear and neat; occasionally somewhat dry and stiff, it is true, Porson's preface to Toup's Emendations of yet never disfigured by trite or affected phraseSuidas will best show the nature of his own ology. Here, however, our praises must end. criticism. "I have never," he observes, "ad- He should have thrown far more of general inmired the practice of those critics, who exclaim formation into his notes, and should have given pulchre, bene, recte, 'excellent, just, incontrovert-us far more translations of difficult passages. It ible,' at every second or third word. Had I not, is well known that he scarcely ever condescends indeed, had the highest regard for Toup's abilities and learning, I should never have offered these observations, such as they are, on his writings. But I consider it to be the part of an editor or commentator to correct the errors and supply the deficiencies of his author. I have hardly ever, therefore, expressed mere assent to Toup's remarks, except when it seemed possible to support them by new arguments, or when they seemed to have been unreasonably assailed by other critics." II.-PORSON AS AN EDITOR. "There is one quality of the mind," says Bishop Turton, "in which it may be confidently affirmed that Porson had no superior; I mean the most pure and inflexible love of truth. Under the influence of this principle, he was cautious, and patient, and persevering in his researches; and scrupulously accurate in stating facts as he found them. All who were intimately acquainted with him bear witness to this noble part of his character, and his works confirm the testimony of his friends." Whenever, therefore, Porson cites an authority, you may be sure of his accuracy, and may rely implicitly on what he says. Imagination, indeed, he had none; but this only makes him the better editor, by confining his thoughts to the subject before him. emendations show calm judgment. He is slow to alter, but when he makes an alteration, he makes it, almost always, with unquestionable success. The corrections of Bentley, as Watson remarks, do not make, in general, the same impression on the reader with those of Porson. The latter appears to alter the text because alteration was evidently necessary; Bentley, because he himself thought that it was necessary. Porson, as a corrector, offers good wine that needs no bush; Bentley is a host that must often use argument to recommend his fare. Porson's touches remind us of Johnson's remark about a just restoration, Bentley's recall his say to explain a single passage in the whole of his lengthy notes to the four plays. His followers, the Porsonian school of critics, follow his example, and though conspicuous for varied learning and ingenuity, give us notes, as has justly been remarked, useless to the mere beginner, often tiresome even to the advanced student, and fitted only for professed critics. In the conflict that is now being waged between dull utilitarianism and classical learning, we must always bear in mind that the true mode of proving the pre-eminent claims of the Greek and Latin languages to cultivate at once the taste, the judgment, and the intellect, is to popularize their study, and render it more interesting, as well as more prac tically and generally useful. Give the student good notes, and plenty of them, and thus awaken in him the desire of becoming more intimately acquainted with all that is striking and beautiful in Classical Literature. III-PORSON AS A SCHOLAR. Parr, on one occasion, when alluding to Porson, called him, in his usual pompous way, "a giant in literature; a prodigy in intellect; a critic, whose mighty achievements left imitation panting at a distance behind him," etc. In all this overwrought eulogy, however, there was His little sincerity, and a great deal of exaggeration. Porson was undoubtedly the first Greek Attic scholar of his day, and in an acquaintance with the niceties of Greek metre, so far as the drama was concerned, was far ahead of all his contemporaries. In these respects he ranked far above Hermann, his old antagonist, against whom he always cherished the bitterest enmity. In point, however, of general knowledge, in compass of mind, in extent of Greek reading, and in philosophical investigation, we candidly think that Hermann was far in advance of him. This assertion, of course, will appear rank heresy to some, who have not forgotten the doggerel imitation of the old saw of Phocylides, about “the As left. I observed on which side you looked, and accordingly knew to which passage you referred." Germans in Greek" being "sadly to seek;" but | Thucydides, once on the right hand page, in the still it is the truth, and ought not to be kept edition which you are using, and once on the back. At the present day, indeed, the classical scholarship of Britain bears no comparison with that of Germany, and even Oxford has had to call in German aid in editing her classics. IV. PORSON'S POWER OF MEMORY. On one occasion, when Porson, Reed, and some other of the literati, with John Kemble, were assembled at Dr. Burney's at Hammersmith, and were examining some old newspapers in which the execution of Charles I. was detailed, they observed some particulars stated in them which they doubted whether Hume or Rapin had mentioned. Reed, who, being versed in old literature, was consulted as the oracle on the point, could not recollect; but Porson repeated a long passage from Rapin, in which the Of Porson's wonderful memory so many stories have been told, that only a few need here be mentioned. What was most remarkable, however, in regard to it, was not so much its retentiveness, as its power of producing at all times, and in all circumstances, the stores which it contained; and, singularly enough, whenever he fell into excess, his mind was less clouded, | circumstances were fully noted. Archdeacon and his recollection more perfect than any other Burney, from whom Mr. Watson received this man's in the same condition. Nothing, it is anecdote, assured the latter, at the same time, said, came amiss to his memory. He would set that he had often, when a boy, taken down a child right in his two-penny fable-book, repeat Humphry Clinker, or Foote's plays, from his the whole of the moral tale of the Dean of Ba- father's shelves, and heard Porson repeat whole dajos, or a page of Athenæus on cups, or of Eu- pages of them walking about the room. One stathius on Homer. Dr. Danney, of Aberdeen, more instance. Mr. Gordon, in his "Personal told Mr. Maltby that, during a visit to London, Memoirs," says that Porson, having been invited he heard Porson declare that he could repeat to dine with him, and having come, by mistake, Smollet's "Roderick Random" from beginning on Thursday instead of Friday, was kept to dinto end and Mr. Richard Heber assured Maltby ner on the Thursday, and, testifying no desire that soon after the appearance of the "Essay on to go to bed when his host retired, was left with Irish Bulls," Porson used, when somewhat tipsy, two bottles of wine before him, and an Italian to recite whole pages of it verbatim, with great novel, which he sat up all night reading, and of delight. He said that he would undertake to which, at a dinner-party the following day, he learn by heart a copy of the Morning Chronicle gave a translation from memory, and, though in a week. Basil Montague related that Porson, there were forty names mentioned in the story, in his presence and that of some other persons, he had forgotten only one of them. This slight read a page or two of a book, and then repeated failure in his recollection, however, annoyed what he had read from memory. That is very him so much, that he started up, and paced well," said one of the company, "but could the round the room for about ten minutes, when, Professor repeat it backward?" Porson imme-stopping suddenly, he exclaimed, “Eureka! diately began to repeat it backward, and failed The count's name was Don Francisco Averrani.” only in two words. It may be remarked here that Porson often used to say that he would engage to remember any thing after having read it thrice. Priestley, the bookseller, used to relate that Porson was once in his shop, when a gen- | tleman came in, and asked for a particular edition of Demosthenes, of which Priestley was not in possession. The gentleman being somewhat disappointed, Porson, whose attention was directed toward him, asked him whether he wished to consult any passage in Demosthenes. The gentleman replied in the affirmative, and specified the passage. Porson then asked Priestley for a copy of the Aldine edition, and, having received it, and turned over a few leaves, put his finger on the passage, showing not only his knowledge of the author, but his familiarity with the position of the passage in that particular edition. V.-PORSON'S CALLIGRAPHY. That One mode, in which Porson wasted much time, was in the practice of mere penmanship. He excelled, as all men know, in writing with neatness and beauty. He wrote notes on the margins of books with such studied accuracy that they rivaled print. He used to say, that Dr. Young had the advantage in "command of hand," but that he preferred the shape of his own letters to that of Young's. It is well known that the Porsonian Greek type of Cambridge was cut in imitation of his handwriting. he was rather vain of this acquirement would appear from the story told by one of Parr's old pupils, of Porson's taking a small book out of his pocket, on one occasion after dinner, containing some of his writing, and allowing it to A similar anecdote used to be told of him be handed round the table for the guests to look by Mr. Cogan. One day Porson called on a at. His rage for calligraphy was such, says friend who happened to be reading Thucydides, Mr. Maltby, that he once offered to letter the and who asked leave to consult him on the backs of some of Mr. Richard Heber's vellummeaning of a word. Porson, on hearing the bound classics. "No," said Heber, "I won't word, did not look at the book, but at once let you do that; but I shall be most thankful if repeated the passage. His friend asked how you will write in an Athenæus some of those exhe knew that it was that passage. "Because," cellent emendations, which I have heard from replied Porson, "the word occurs only twice in you in conversation." Porson consented, Heber sent him an interleaved copy of Casaubon's edi- | him at Bankes's rooms, where he would pour forth tion, which had belonged to Brunck, and in whole pages of various languages, and distinguish which Porson inserted the notes that were after- himself especially by copious floods of Greek. ward published in the Adversaria. He often spent much time also in producing extremely small writing. A specimen is extant, comprising, in a circle of an inch and a half in diameter, the Greek verses on music from the Medea of Euripides, with Johnson's translation of them for Burney's History of Music, in all more than 220 words, with a considerable space left blank in the centre. It is written on vellum, a portion of a leaf which fell from the Photius which he copied. VI.-PORSON'S INTEMPERATE HABITS. We are told, in the Menagiana, that, on one occasion, certain spots having appeared on the disc of the sun, and having given rise to much conversation and alarm at Paris, a gentleman, on his being asked by a lady of the court what was the latest news, replied, "there are evil reports, Madam, respecting the sun." Just so with poor Porson. His eminent abilities only made his obliquities the more notorious. The record is a melancholy one, but yet calculated to prove useful. Partial friends have supposed that he may have found wine or spirits a relief to the asthma with which he was afflicted during much of his life, and that, in this way, habits of intemperance were gradually formed. Mr. Watson remarks, however, with more truth, that we must remember, that to drink to excess was one of the vices of the day in which Porson lived; when a capacity for three bottles was thought a necessary qualification for society; when noblemen and gentlemen fell senseless under the dinner-table, and were carried to bed by their servants; and when Pitt and Dundas, on whom Porson made his epigrams, rose reeling from a carouse to join the Senate. Something, too, perhaps should be said for the habit of sleeplessness from which Porson suffered, and which led him frequently to protract his sittings. Still it must be admitted that Porson's drinking was enormous. Of liquors his favorite was brandy, the drink of heroes. Mrs. Parr said that more brandy was drunk during three weeks that Porson spent at Hatton than during all the time that she had kept house before. He also indulged greatly in port, which he preferred to every other wine, as well at dinner as after it. This gave him a redness of nose to which he himself alludes in one of his letters, tracing a resemblance between it and "honest Bardolph's," or that of Sheridan, and it was often seen covered with bits of brown paper, as a kind of cooling and healing process. For tea and coffee he had no liking. At breakfast his favorite beverage was porter. One Sunday morning, when he was on a visit at Eton, he met Dr. Goodall, the Provost, going to church, and asked him where Mrs. Goodall was? breakfast," replied the Doctor. "Very well, then," rejoined Porson, "I'll go and breakfast with her." He accordingly presented himself at Mrs. Goodall's table, and, being asked what he chose to take, answered "Porter." Porter was in consequence sent for, pot after pot, and the sixth pot was just being carried into the house when Dr. Goodall returned from church. "At Of his capacities of drinking and of sitting up at nights, extraordinary stories are told. The first evening which he spent with Horne Tooke, he never thought of retiring till the harbinger of day gave warning to depart. On another occasion, Tooke contrived to find out the opportunity of requesting his company when he knew that he had been sitting up the whole of the night before. This, however, made no difference; Porson sat up the second night also until sunrise. Tooke, on a third occasion, invited Porson to dine with him; and as he knew that Porson had not been in bed for the three preceding nights, he expected to get rid of him at an early hour. Porson, however, kept Tooke up the whole night; and in the morning the latter, in perfect despair, said, "Mr. Porson, I am engaged to meet a friend at breakfast at a Lord Byron says, that he remembers to have coffee-house in Leicester Square." "Oh," reseen Porson at Cambridge, though not frequent-plied Porson, "I will go with you;" and he acly; that in the hall, where he himself dined at the vice-master's table, and Porson at the Dean's, he always appeared sober in his demeanor, nor was he ever guilty, as far as his lordship knew, of any excess or outrage in public; but that in an evening, with a party of undergraduates, his behavior would often be of a very different character, as he would, in fits of intoxication, get into violent disputes with the young men, and revile them for not knowing what he thought they might be expected to know. Lord Byron had seen him, he says, take up a poker to one of them, using language corresponding in violence to the action, and once saw him go away in a rage because none of them knew the name of the "Cobbler of Messina," insulting their ignorance with the strongest terms of reprobation. In this condition his lordship used to see cordingly did so. Soon after they had reached the coffee-house Tooke contrived to slip out, and, running home, ordered his servant not to let Mr. Porson in, even if he should attempt to batter down the door. "A man," observed Tooke, "who could sit up four nights successively, could sit up forty." He would not scruple, according to Rogers, to return to the dining-room after the company had left it, pour into a tumbler the drops remaining in the wine-glasses, and drink off the omniumgatherum. all kinds. Indeed, he would drink liquids of Tooke used to say, that he would drink ink rather than not drink at all. He was once sitting with a gentleman after dinner, in the chambers of a mutual friend, a Templar, who was then ill and confined to bed. A servant came into the room, sent thither by his master, for a bottle of embrocation which was on the chimney-piece. "I drank it an hour ago," said Porson. Porson's friends all thought that he would never marry, since he appeared to be a confirmed convivial bachelor. One night, howWhen Hoppner, the painter, was residing in ever, while he was smoking his pipe with George a cottage a few miles from London, Porson one Gordon, at the Cider Cellar, his favorite place afternoon unexpectedly arrived there. Hoppner of resort, he suddenly said, "Friend George, do said that he could not offer him dinner, as Mrs. you not think that the Widow Lunan is an agree Hoppner had gone to town, and had carried with able sort of personage as times go?" Gordon her the key of the closet which contained the said something in the affirmative. "In that wine. Porson, however, declared that he would case," continued Porson, "you must meet me be content with a mutton-chop, and beer from to-morrow morning at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields the next ale-house; and accordingly staid to at eight o'clock," and, without saying more, paid dine. During the evening Porson said, "I am his reckoning and retired. Gordon was somequite certain that Mrs. Hoppner keeps some nice what astonished, but, knowing that Porson was bottle for her private drinking, in her own bed-likely to mean what he said, determined to comroom; so, pray, try if you can lay your hands on it." His host assured him that Mrs. Hoppner had no such secret stores; but Porson insisting that a search should be made, a bottle was at last discovered in the lady's apartment, to the surprise of Hoppner, and the joy of Porson, who soon finished its contents, pronouncing it to be the best gin he had tasted for a long time. Next day, Hoppner, somewhat out of temper, informed his wife that Porson had drunk every drop of her concealed dram. "Drunk every drop of it!" cried she. "My God, it was spirits of wine for the lamp!" VII.-MISCELLANEOUS ANECDOTES. "Porson," said Parr, "with all your learning, I do not think you well versed in metaphysics." "I presume you mean your metaphysics," was the reply.-On another occasion, the same personage asked the Professor what he thought of the origin of evil: "I see no good in it," answered the latter.-When the "Letters to Travis" first appeared, Rennell said, "It is just such a book as the devil would write, if he could hold a pen."-One day after dinner, a certain Captain Ash, who was always ready to warble, burst out, as usual, with a song. Porson hated singing after dinner, and, while Ash was in the middle of his song, an ass happening to bray in the street, Porson interrupted the Captain with, "Sir, you have a rival!"-A gentleman, who had heard that Bentley was born in the north, said to Porson, "Wasn't he a Scotchman?" "No, Sir," replied Porson, "Bentley was a Greek scholar."-To a gentleman, who, at the close of a fierce dispute with Porson, exclaimed My opinion of you is most contemptible, Sir," he retorted, "I never knew an opinion of yours that was not contemptible."-Porson, on one occasion, said that he would make, some say a rhyme, others a pun, on any thing. One of the company said, that he had better try one on the Latin gerunds. He immediately replied, 66 "When Dido found Eneas would not come, "Here lies a Doctor of Divinity; ply with the invitation, and repaired to the church at the hour specified, where he found Porson with Mrs. Lunan and a female friend, and the parson waiting to begin the ceremony. When service was ended, the parties separated, the bride and her friend retiring by one door, and Porson and Gordon by another. How long the Professor sat after the wedding dinner we are not told, but he afterward adjourned to the Cider Cellar, and staid there until eight the next morning. This is a good deal worse than Budæus, who is said to have studied eight hours on his wedding day.-Porson, on one of his visits to the Cider Cellar, met with a stranger who discoursed most learnedly on the οἶνος κρίθινος of the ancients, suggesting that it might have been whisky, and who surprised Porson by the accuracy, variety, and extent of his information. He was never found out, notwithstanding all Porson's inquiries. A fortnight afterward Porson was asked about the existence of the devil: "Sir," said he, "I doubted his existence till I saw him seated in that chair a fortnight ago." It may be important, in connection with this affair of Porson's, to remark, that the devil has very rarely showed himself to classical scholars. He appeared on one occasion, indeed, to Salmasius, and excited the wonder of the latter by his splendid Latinity. He was floored, however, in Greek, when evoked by old Hermolaus Barbarus, and could not tell what the Aristotelian ivreλéxɛa meant. At another time he showed himself to the younger Scaliger, as we are told in the Scaligerana Secunda, under the form of a dark-complexioned man mounted on a black horse (the prototype probably of the black cavalry of Virginia), and the scholar came very near being soused by him into a marsh. Some of the company, it seems, had been swearing a great deal, and no doubt our friend Scaliger among the number. The elder Scaliger, however, had a supreme contempt for the devil, and maintained that he never made his appearance except to blockheads. Here are some of Porson's charades, with which we will close our account of him: |