The Library of Richard Porson by P. G. Naiditch (review)

Richard Porson (1759-1808), one of England's greatest classical scholars, is best known to those in his field for his work on the Greek dramatists and Greek metre, to bibliographers and typographers for his elegant Greek type, and to contemporaries for his slovenly appearance and insobriety. William Hazlitt described seeing him in the library of the London Institution, 'dressed in an old rusty black coat with cobwebs hanging to the skirts of it, and with a large patch of coarse brown paper covering the whole length of his nose, looking for all the world like a drunk carpenter' (p. lxvi). Porson had a reputation for treating his books with the same lack of regard that he treated himself. Richard Heber complained of a book that he had received back from Porson, 'Look . . . When I lent it to him, it was quite spotless, and now it is perfectly beastly' (p. lxvii). Porson acquired his books for use, not for ostentation.

What can we know of Porson's library? Most of Porson's collection has been dispersed and lost; it cannot be established how many books he owned at any one time in his life, and tracing the development of his collection is impossible. The 'library' that P. G. Naiditch reconstructs is derived primarily from the catalogue that Leigh and Sotheby issued in 1809 for an auction that disposed of the greater part of Porson's books. Of the c. 1900 items offered in that catalogue only about 314 titles are known still to exist, mostly in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, where Porson was an undergraduate and Fellow. The subsequent disappearance of many of Porson's books is hardly uncommon. In Naiditch's view, Edward Gibbon's library provides the closet parallel for the fate of Porson's. Without the existence of the catalogues and bookplates almost 90% of Gibbon's library would be unknown.

Naiditch's volume is divided into two parts. The 120 pages of the 'Prolegomena' set out all that can be gleaned about Porson's library and its composition, his buying habits (mainly secondhand books, often at auction), and annotations (some are reproduced in the library catalogue that follows). Many of the buyers of Porson's books can be identified, many not. Classical scholars will recognise Dobree, Monk, and Routh among the buyers; bibliographers will not be surprised to learn that Richard Heber was a heavy bidder. The background that Naiditch provides about buyers makes this most useful (pp. xxxvii-lxv). The catalogue of 1935 entries makes up the bulk of Naiditch's book at just under 330 pages. Each entry gives the title(s) in question and notes a variety of relevant information, where it can be established: early owner; Porson's immediate source; concordance with the Porson sale of 1809; concordance of buyers at Porson's sale; later owner of book; current location of book. There are many leads for further research. Some may be chimera: where are the 'numerous autograph notes' by Porson in his copy of Brotier's 1771 Tacitus (p. 293)? If they have been published since they were mentioned in the catalogue of J. Mitford's library (1859) Naiditch's extraordinary researches have not unearthed them.

Naiditch supplements our meagre knowledge of Porson and his books with parallels and context provided by other private libraries and auction catalogues. Analysis is minute, the detail overwhelming. Does Naiditch need to provide statistical analysis of how many lines on the page a given lot takes up? Anyone interested will want to consult the catalogue itself. There is inevitably much speculation. Some is avoided (e.g. how Porson arranged his books), some unfortunately not: if 'one could spend hours detailing books which Porson seemingly lacked', is it worthwhile to pursue the matter (section XXVII)? Given the problems in identifying buyers at the 1809 auction (some of whom may have been represented by agents), is it constructive to provide a select list of...