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329
T36
A3
3.
IS Cºo
PRIVATE MEMOIRS,
(NEVER BEFor E PUBLISHED)
O
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ.,
COMPTROLLIER OF THE PIPE, &c., IN THE REIGNS
OF CHARLES II. JAMES II. &c.;
WITH
A LETTE R T 0 H IS GR AND S 0 N,
GOING TO THE UNIVERSITY,
EDITED BY HIS DESCENDANT,
C. W. BI N G H A M, M . A ,
LATE FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD,
AND WICAR OF SYDLING ST. NICHOLAS, DORSDT,
©
& *
*
º
... & e
º
ſe
:
º
* ~. tº
*
:
LONDON :
H A M I L T O N A D A M S A N D . C Q ,
B BENSON WEYMOUTH.
1841.
WEYMOUTII ; PRINTED BY B, BENSOfſ,
|- stiel-
& 'tis ºt.
\ o - "a ( - S-6
3 2 5 2, 2.
P R. E. F. A C E .
John Potenger, Esq., author of the following letter and
memoirs, was son of Dr. John Potenger, (Head-Master of
Winchester-College School,) born in St. Swithun's Parish,
Winchester, July 21st, 1647—admitted, on the foundation
of the college, in 1658, and from thence removed to a
Scholarship of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, where he
took the degree of B. A., and afterward entered of the
Temple, and was regularly called to the bar.
The office of Comptroller of the Pipe,” which he held
till the day of his death, he purchased in 1676, of Sir John
Ernle, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, whose daughter
he married.
In 1692 his wife died, leaving him only one daughter,
who in 1695, was married to Richard Bingham, Esq., of
Bingham's Melcombe, in the County of Dorset; and thither
he retired many years before his death, which happened,
December 18, 1733, in the eighty-seventh year of his age.
The above outline will sufficiently explain his connection
with the editor, to whom the apartment that he occupied,
and the books that he used, and, through the medium of a
* Wide Appendix (A.)
ii
portrait, on which, sooth to say, time has laid his hand
somewhat rudely, the very wig that he wore, have been
objects of constant familiarity and interest, from the first
dawn of recollection. I suspect too, that this interest has
been not a little heightened by a touch of the supernatural,
with which his name has ever been invested; begun per-
haps in the “awful hushes,” which even in his life time,
the presence or the neighbourhood of the old, old man,
imposed upon the children of the family, and handed down,
through sundry generations of Nurse-maids, as a sovereign
remedy for infantime unruliness—until the slamming of the
heavy doors, the howling of winds through the angular
passages of a very old-fashioned house, the unearthly gam-
bols of cat-abandoned rats, and all other unaccountable
moises whatsoever, have grown to be habitually referred to
the “extravagant and erring” spirit of our departed ancestor.
From time to time, as we attaimed to years of discretion,
these hereditary terrors have been cautiously dissipated, by
our being made acquainted with the contents of the two
little manuscript books, which form the staple of the present
publication. I can well recollect my own satisfaction in
discovering, that, after all, Mr. Potenger was “no ghost,”
but a plain, simple-hearted, affectionate, matter-of-fact old
Lawyer, and Placeman ; who, although living in a day,
when, to adopt the terse declaration of one of its chief
statesmen, there was “no person in employment, but who
could buy it,” still seems to have contrived to “keep a
conscience,” to prosper in spite of his honesty, and to have
iii
gone down to the grave in a good old age, at perfect peace
with God, his neighbour, and himself. -
An untoward course of circumstances having constituted
me guardian of the aforesaid disenchanting documents, -
several friends, to whom I had shown them, advised me to
publish them : and my inclination to this was finally deci-
ded, by the necessity of adding a few pounds to a fund for
repairing my church, which the very liberal subscriptions I
have received, headed by a most munificent donation from
Her Majesty, have helped forward in a timely and effective
IIla YIIlêI’.
I certainly regret that the following pages had not found
an editor, whose pursuits, and talents, and opportunities,
had rendered him more competent to introduce them to
the public. The little accessory information, with which I
have thought it needful to accompany the text will gene-
rally be found in what I conceived its most appropriate
place, either in the form of preface, or foot-note, or appen-
dix; so that the narrative might neither be burthened, nor
misunderstood. Although I am not historian enough to
point out any passages, which are likely to throw light on
the annals of our country, I feel certain that the whole
tenour of the little work, will be accepted as another not
uninteresting illustration of feelings, and manners, and
customs, which have long been buried in the past. It is
true that the details are chiefly personal; but it may, for
instance, be amusing in this age of coups-de-main in both
the kindred arts of love and war, to mark the far more
iv.
scientific way in which the soberer gallant of Charles the
second’s time, sat down before a lady's heart; and, after
the various fortunes of a seven years' siege, finally succeeded
in carrying it.
Any criticism, either on his character, or politics, or
religion, seems to be uncalled for here. I would merely
remark, if a coldness should be considered to pervade the
latter, that in a century, the theology of whose divines has
been generally characterized by a highly talented living
dignitary, as “meaner, more graceless, more spiritless, than
anything else except its churches, which were thus aptly
fitted for the doctrines proclaimed in them,” we could
hardly dare to expect very clear religious views, or any
bright display of energy or zeal, in a layman.
Such as these compositions were written, they are now
published. One or two short sentences only have been
retrenched, and even the original spelling has been gene-
rally retained. Having thus dealt faithfully with my author,
I trust that I shall at least be pardoned for bringing him to
light: which, in spite of the decent deprecations of natural
modesty, appears to have been a consummation, to which
he was by no means disinclined.
C. W. B.
Sydling Vicarage,
August, 1841.
A LETTER
T O MY D E A R G R A N D S O N,
MR. JOHN BINGHAM.
DocTRINA — vIM PRoMovET INsITAM,
RECTIQ UE CULTUS PECTORIA ROBORANT :
UTcUMQUE DEFECERE MOREs,
IDEDECORANT BENE NATA CULPÆ.
HoR. ODE 4. LIB. 4.
J^ ^^-^^•^•^.
1724.
I N T R O D U C T I O N.
(THE young man, to whom this letter was addressed, was
second son of Richard Bingham Esq. of Bingham's Mel-
combe; and Philadelphia, only surviving daughter and
heiress of Mr. Potenger. He was born, December 17,
1708—was educated, as will be seen, at Westminster—
succeeded to a studentship of Christ Church, Oxford, and
died, August 17, 1735, in his twenty-seventh year. That
he was not unworthy of the care which his grandfather
seems to have delighted to bestow on him, may be gathered
from the following epitaph in the church at Melcombe;
which, even after due allowance made for the usual exagge-
ration of such tributes, describes a person whose premature
death must have awakened deep regret, and disappointed
many a fond hope in those to whom he was dear:—
HIC SITUS EST
JoHANNES BINGHAM, A. M.
FILIUS NATU SECUNDUs R. BINGHAM, ARMIGERI,
ET PHILADELPHIAE UxORIS :
QUI FAMILIAE QUA ORTUS EST DIGNITATEM
PROPRIIS MERITIS ADAEQUAVIT.
viii
w EsTMONASTERII PRIMUM, DEINDE AEDE XTI oxoN,
JENUTRITUS.
IN OMNI LITERARUM GENERE, PRAECIPUE GRÆCARUM
ExcELLUIT,
NoN UNUs E MULTIs, sED INTER MULTOs PROPE
SINGUILARIS.
NIHIL ENIM QUOD LEGENDUM ERAT FERE PRÆTERMISIT,
VEL QUOD LEGEBAT, OBLIVISCABATUR.
SED NEQUE ILLIUS ERUDITIO CONSPECTIOR, ERAT,
QUAM NATURÆ SIMPLICITAs, QUAM MORUM PROBITAS,
QUÆ INCREDIBILI MANSUETUDINE,
IN oMNIA OFFICIO, ATQUE IPso SERMONE TEMPERATA
SINGULORUM AMIOREM ADEO IN EUM CONVERTERAT
UT NoN PAUCIORIBUS EXTERNoRUM, QUAM sUoRUM,
LACRYMIS COMIIPOSITUS EST.
oBIIT oxoNII, DIE AUGUSTI 17.
DoMINI 1735,
ANNO
ÆTATIS 27.
IFRATRI POSUIT ELIZABETHIA SOROR, EJÜS GEMINA.
The flatterimg affectiom evem of a twim-sister could
scarcely have dictated such praises as these, im memory of
one, who was not at least a ripe scholar, and am amiable
amd gentleman-like mam.)
To MY DEAR GRANDson,
MR. John BINGHAM.
DEAR CHILD,
I, being in the *seventy-seventh
year of my age, cannot expect to see you settled
in a calling ; therefore, lest I should be prevented
by death, or incapacitated by old age, being made
eapers consilii, and so slip the time of giving you
good advice for the future conduct of your life,
I shall meet you with mine at the university, when
you have left Westminster; but you ought always
to carry with you a gratefull remembrance of your
master, Dr. Friend, who has with so much care
cultivated your tender years.
You are now just steping into the world, and if
you would tread surely, you must walk uprightly ;
and that you may do so, is the design of these
instructions, which I would not have you think to
* This date, (which would fix the grandson's age at 16–17,
...º.º.º.º.º.º.
reminded the writer, whatever he found to do, to do it with his
might, as the handwriting is changed from a remarkably clear
and beautiful character, to the scrawl of a weak old age.
2
be the sentiments of a morose old man, who
has forgott what it is to be young, fitter to be
despised than to be heeded : but if you do, you
will smart for the neglect, and do penance for
your folly. Do not take my precaution for a
distrust, as if I was apprehensive you was capable
of so great ingratitude; for if I was, I would
neither trouble you or myself in writing this
affectionate letter.
When you come to Oxford, great care must be
taken in providing you a tutor, who is a good
man, as well as a good scholar; his life will be a
continual lecture, and as instructive as his reading;
his care ought to be of your morals as well as of
your learning, and to observe your conversation:
not that his eyes can follow you in all places, but
remember when you are out of his sight, you are
in God’s, and that the darkest recess cannot hide
you from His view, who is a constant testis
conversationis.
There are some things, which no care can
prevent; they being left in a great measure to
your choice and judgment, which is but weak at
your age. No tutor or governor can assigne you
3.
your associates, and if he should, you may steal
a clandestine conversation to your prejudice;
therefore, at your first coming, content yourself
with few companions, before you know who will
be the most beneficial and innocent.
A leud ingenious person will corrupt more than
he can please, and his vices will injure more than
his good parts can improve. You will learn
nothing of a drunkard, but unmannerly clamour
and the rudeness of a pot companion; whilst their
vices so deeply wound the reputation of a young
man, that he scarce ever recovers his credit; but
lives at the mercy of every foul-mouthed re-
proacher, who is ready to fling his youthful
miscarriages in his face. They make a divine,
servile, who dares not rebuke with boldness, but
stands in awe of his own crimes, especially if he
meets with sinners like the character in Horace,
who castigata remordet. I shall not enlarge upon
this topick, but reserve it for another place.
An Oxford wit is a despicable animal, who
never acquires that appellation by sobriety, but by
being the entertainment of fools, and idle profli-
gates at a tavern. I would have a young scholar
B 4
4
ambitious of a good esteem for learning and
ingenuity; but let it be purchased by his ingenious
publick and private exercises, performed in the
university and the college. Be sure always
to keep an intimate acquaintance with classical
authors, especially Cicero, Livy, Caesar's Com-
mentaries, Sallust, Quintus Curtius, &c. Let
Virgil and Horace be your beloved poets; read
others at your leisure, but let these be your con-
stant directors in prose and verse. * Declaiming
is one of the best exercises you can apply yourself
to, and Livy’s orations are the best for your
imitation. To be an excellent orator is usefull,
and commendable in all employments. For Greek
authors, I hope you will be able to make a good
choice yourself, but be sure you read them in their
* It may not be thought out of place here to regret that an
exercise so useful, under proper regulations, in an education for
at least two of the learned professions, should have generally
fallen into disuse. Some few years since it had not been given up
altogether in the church of Rome, and the fluency of many of
their preachers, may thus perhaps be accounted for. I copied the
following thesis, for responsions, from the hall in the convent of
San Martino, near Palermo:—
* Quaestio superludo alearum.
* Ludus est otii altor, rixae materia, morum pernicies, ait Episco.
Sylvensis. Qua de re quaeritur.—
I. Utrum alearum Iudus sit christianis interdictus.
2. An lucrans in ludo possit lucrum retinere.
Consulendi Summa S. Ambros. T. 2. de alearum ludo. Ferrario,
Verb. Ludus.
5
turn constantly, especially the Greek Testament,
till you understand them thoroughly ; I suppose
Thucydides, Appian, Herodian, are fit to be con-
versed with.
But be sure never omit the study of the Christian
religion. Constantly read some books of practical
divinity and morality; especially, The Whole Duty
of Man, Dr. Hammond’s Practical Catechism, Dr.
Goodman’s Parable of the Prodigal, and Grotius
de Veritate Religionis Christianae. This will keep
a sense of your duty warm upon your heart, and
if you chance to deviate, it will not let you wander
far, but will strike you with a remorse for past
errors, and make you dread the pangs of a true
repentance; for a hearty contrition is a very bitter
pill, though very Sanative.
Stock yourself with true Church of England
principles before you venture to read the spurious
offspring of the press, which is now big with
heresy and schism; for, to be prepossessed with
an error is dangerous: it is a devil, who is easier
kept from entering than to be cast out. But if
your youthful curiosity should prevail so far as to
make you read such books or pamphlets, be sure
6
take an antidote along with you, composed by the
best orthodox divines, and implore God’s grace to
keep you in the true faith. It would be very
unjust in you to hear your mother church's accu-
sers without giving a kind ear to her defence.
You need not fear *Dr. Clark, Whiston, fBangor,
&c., if you take Bishop Pearson, Bishop Bull,
Dr. Waterland, Dr. Sherlock, Mr. Lawes, for
your guard. Never believe the impugners of our
faith, who dare not declare their own, but always
keep themselves under the sneaking covert of a
double meaning. If you take these worthy defen-
ders of the Church of England for the guardians
of your faith, it will be impregnable to heresy and
schism.
Be careful of what history you read of late
reigns, for it is full of legend, and false secret
tradition, especially Burnet's, which is no more to
be credited than “The Seven Champions of Christ-
endom,” and if you will believe me, you will never
be imposed on by that fallacious historian, who
Peccare docentes
Fallax historias monet:-
* Probably Dr. Samuel Clarke, the friend and associate of
Whiston in the Anti-Athanasian controversy.
* Probably Dr. Benjamin Hoadly, who was bishop of Bangor
from 1715 to 1721.
7
for generally what he says comes short of truth,
or else tells it with a bad design. His characters
for the most part are not according to the merits
of the persons, but as they pleased or displeased
him. This Scotch prelate, a mere father-in-law
to our church, was in his nature so fiery a Boute.
feu, that he was not contented to disturb the
peace of the church or state, in all king's reigns
whilst he lived, but has left a posthumous piece of
history to seduce posterity, and to disquiet the
nation when he is in his grave. I would have
you take warning by this prelate, and love an
open, candid sincerity, which will keep you clear
of malice and falsehood, two dangerous vices to
all men, but especially to a divine: and the best
way to keep you good-natured and of an affable
disposition, is to be well-bred ; and since you are
a gentleman of a noble and ancient family, scorne
to do any thing below the dignity of your birth.
Now to a set of good principles, learn to add
good behaviour, for knowledge joined with good
breeding, completes the man, and the christian ;
for when it is in the possession of a clown it is in
disgrace. Our Saviour, if we will observe his
8
deportment whilst he conversed in the world, was
(with reverence be it spoken) the finest gentleman
of his time; and I know nothing which makes
good advice sink deeper than a handsome delivery.
A rough divine is like a rough diamond, who,
though he has internal value, yet before he is
polished, is harsh and grating, being without
brightness and splendour; therefore I would have
you put off the boy with your Westminster gown,
and believe, when you put on another in the
university, you do then sumere virilem togam, and
commence man. If you will take the great
William of Wickham’s word for it, “ manners
make man,” a gown is no covering for an awk-
ward, shuffling mien ; for a clown in such trappings
makes the rustic the more conspicuous. The
Roman gentleman and the apostle, sate very well
together in St. Paul, who could answer king
Agrippa with a compliment like a courtier, and
could preach temperance and judgment like an
apostle, till he made unjust Felix tremble. 'Tis
* If Lowth's conjecture be correct, William of Wickham meant
more than this by his celebrated motto : “The true meaning of
which” says he “ as he designed it, I presume to be—That a
man's real worth is to be estimated from the endowments of his
mind, and his moral qualifications.” Lowth life of Wykeham, p. 10.
9
true St. Paul was inspired, and, though he was
born out of due time, his birth was miraculous;
yet his being filled with the Holy Ghost, did not
interfere with his natural and acquired abilities,
but he was the more powerful for his being bred
at the feet of Gamaliel.
Now you must not expect to be called by
immediate inspiration into the way wherein God
would have you walk, but you must consider your
inclination, your gifts, and education; if these three
concur in you, you may be assured the profession
of a divine is fit for you, and you ought as far as
it is in your power, to resolve to follow it. There
is not of necessity required, any inward, secret,
sensible testimony of God's sanctifying spirit to
man’s soul, for Judas was called to be an apostle,
who was not endued with the holy spirit of sancti-
fication.* Your parents have, from your childhood
* I cannot allow this unfortunately chosen example to pass
without remark. Surely the fate of Judas, for whom it would
have been better “ if he had never been born,” should be the
strongest possible warning to the candidate for the ministry, that
he should look for something beyond the mere external call,
When the church puts the solemn question to us, “Do you trust
that you are inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon you
this office 7 “Certainly,” as Bishop Burnet remarks, “the answer
that is made ought to be weil considered: for if any says “I trust so,”
recklessly, he lies to the Holy Ghost, and makes his first approach
£o the altar with a lie in his mouth.” Certainly something more
C
I ()
designed you for the ministry, and we have been
at the care and charge of breeding you up in
learning to make you fit for it; and God has given
you parts, which with due application and his
blessing, will qualifie you for so high a calling.
I would not have you think the gentleman is
lost in the divine, but is made more venerable,
unless you disgrace him by a vicious life; for the
most nauseous profligate, is a loose ecclesiastick,
who does not only debase himself, but is a chief
cause of the contempt of the clergy. Iniquity
levels the greatest man who wears a lofty title,
with the meanest plebean,—for
facinus, quos inquinat, Qequat.
His being nobly born will not make him a privi-
leged profligate. I must confess, a canonical
debauchee is the most unseemly sinner of the age;
a gown and cassock is a very unfitt weed for a jolly
companion. As well as I love you, I had rather
see you innocently laid in your grave, than an
ignominious sottish priest, though you will have
should be looked to than his “inclination, and gifts and educa-
ºº::...".
the knowledge and the love of a Saviour, who has suffered for its
sins, the desire to “feed his lambs,” to convert others, should be
“ inwardly, secretly, and yet sensibly” felt.
1 1
numbers enough to defend you from shame, but
not from guilt; who will keep you in countenance
in this world, so that it shall not hinder your
preferment, if your state principles excuse your
morals, and you do not too closely adhere to the
doctrine of the established church.* Now I have
laid before you the danger of your being corrupted
at your first coming to the university, and the
several temptations which will beset you; let me

* The following extract from a letter, written by Sir John
Bingham of Castlebar to the brother of this young man, dated
September, 1737, gives scarcely a more flattering picture of the
disposal of church preferment, at least in Ireland, in that age.
“Your other brother, whose name I think is George, I hear is
now at Oxford: if he goes into orders, you cannot do better for
him, than have him well recommended to some of our Lord
Lieutenants who come over to this kingdom ; for church prefer-
ments are in this part of the world very great and very many, and
no sort of doubt of his making his fortune upon a strong recommen-
dation of this sort. I often wonder you do not get into the English
parliaments; for, though preferments there are difficult to be got
at, yet an English parliament-mazz may get anything he pleases
ăn this part of the world.”
Thus were the spiritual wants of unhappy Ireland provided for
“ In the good days of George the second ;” a state of things which
seems to have been inherited from an older age, for we find a very
similar account given in Spencer’s “View of the state of Ireland,”
written about 1596: from which it appears first of all, that the
“unworthiness and incapacity of the native Irish clergy had called
for a law which provided that, ‘whatsoever Englishman of good con-
versation and sufficiency” would be preferred to vacant livings,
* before any Irish ;’ and amongst the objections to its operations
are reckoned, that, ‘most of the English are either unlearned, or
men of some bad note, for which they have forsaken England ;”
and again, that “the people either could not understand them, or
would not hear them.’” Shall we wonder, if thus century by
century, we “have sown the wind,” that we should now “reap
the whirlwind” in Ireland 3
12
desire you always to bear in mind how sacred
that profession is, which you intend to undertake,
and to consider the purity of that life which ought
to qualifie you for that holy calling, which if you
have not a care, will increase your guilt, and
accumulate others’ crimes on you, if you ever have
a cure of souls; for a vicious parson seldom
perishes alone, but by sins of omission or com-
mission draws some of his flock after him. He
may preach his heart out without any good effect,
when his life runs counter to his doctrine. They
will never take his word in the pulpit, who breaks
it as soon as he comes out of it. Though he is so
unsuccessful as not to reclaim them by his preach-
ing, he can confirm them by his bad example, and
his mal-practice is a warrant for theirs. If they
tope with the vicar, they believe there is no moral
turpitude in good drinking, neither are they obli-
ged to refuse the circulating glass, which he never
balks. This I tell you with grief of heart; for it
has been my great concern to see a clergyman in
all his habiliments set down to a bottle and a pipe,
and never start from his place, till some soberer
layman shows him 'tis time to leave off and go
13
home. But if a divine did truly reflect on his
calling, he would be of the same opinion with St.
Paul, and what he said of eating meat, the good
pastor would say of drinking, “if I by wine or
strong drink make my brother to offend, I will
drink no wine nor strong drink, while the world
stands, lest I make my brother to offend.”
This sect of immoralists—I mean the good-
fellows or drinkers, are heretics in morality of a
long standing, and I believe, can prescribe for
their ill practice, as long as the Arians for their
false doctrines; but the ecclesiastical fop is of later
date, not known to the primitive church.” He
rather seems to be a new schismatick, not to be
confined by holy orders, to the decent and regular
methods of behaviour of a grave, and sober divine :
* These remarks on a character, which, unhappily for the
church, is not so nearly obsolete as the former one; cannot fail to
recall Cowper's lines in the Task;-Book II. 414.
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn ;
Object of my implacable disgust.
What! will a man play tricks, will he indulge
A silly fond conceit of his fair form
Andjust proportion, fashionable mien
And pretty face, in presence of his God 7
Or will he seek to dazzle men with tropes,
As with the diamond, on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes
When I am hungry for the bread of life—&c., &c.
14
for he cannot comply with the strict ceremonys of
deportment which make a clergyman revered and
honoured, but he must be finical in his dress, full
of pretinesses in his behaviour to make him ami-
able in the eyes of the female sex, which seems to
speak him too much given to the flesh, not con-
sidering that what he takes for a recommendation
makes him and his profession, ridiculous and
despised. -
I would have you avoid these deviations from
your high calling. Be neither a sloven nor a
beau; learn not the cringes of a flattering chap-
lain,” nor the absurd stiffness of an arrant fellow of
a college. I am unwilling to be too long, lest my
* Bishop Hall, whose satires were published in 1597, gives so
graphic, though painful a description of the character here alluded
to, that the reader may be gratified by seeing it entire.
Book II. Satire 6.
A gentle Squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some trencher chappelain ;
Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
Whiles his young master lieth o'er his head.
Second, that he do, on no fault
Ever presume to sit above the salt.
Third, that he never change his trencher twice;
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies,
Sit bare at meals, and one half, rise and wait.
Last, that he never his young master beat,
But he must ask his mother to define
How many jerks she would his breech should line.
All these observed, he could contented be,
To give five marks, and winter livery.
v tº
* * *
letter become tedious, and you nauseate the admo-
nitions you should kindly receive. But do not
think a single perusal is sufficient, read them over
frequently, for they will confirm you in doing well,
or upbraid you for doing ill. They were writ with
consideration, and I believe deserve yours : for, if
you fling them by, you pass a great slight upon a
grandfather, who deserves a gratefull remembrance
and not an undutifull oblivion; who passionately
desired you to remember your Creator in the days
of your youth, which will make old age easy, for
youthfull sins sit heavy on a decrepid sinner, and
fill him with hopes and fears;* but innocence
makes the terrors of death fly before you.
Before we part I must tell you that reflecting
on the many youths in my time, who came to
the university with great expectation, praeclarum
minantes, but proved so unfortunate, either by
negligence or debauchery, that they never made
a suitable progress in learning, but were wont,
depending on their parts, to put off all thoughts
of performing their exercises till the last, a sure
* It is from hence that the hand-writing of this M. S. is altered,
and scarcely appears to be the same as that in which the rest of
the letter and the memoirs are written.
16
way to make all their compositions low and flat,
being forced by want of time to take their first
thoughts, and clothe them in such words as came
next to hand, not having leisure to dress them
handsomely, fit to appear in publick; I thought it
necessary to forewarne you of this wrong method,
which will make you lose your reputation, for one
bad exercise will do you more discredit than many
good ones will retrieve, and your disrepute will
extend itself beyond the college ; and your good
parts, if not improved by study will increase your
ignominy, and not only render you despised, but
detested. Therefore take as much time as you
can for your compositions, and still endeavour to
outdoe yourself as well as others. You cannot be
safe without progression, and being meanly safe
will never gaine a reputation, which is only to be
acquired by reaching an excellence, which I hope
you will doe. To be mediocriter doctus will not
serve your turne; for that is to be but one degree
above a dunce, which is too low a station for one
of your parts. Apostacy is as great a fault in
learning as religion; and a backsliding in the first
is a bad preparation for the like in the latter. An
17
ignorant parson can never be a match for a sharp
heretick. You will find it hard enough, with all
your parts well cultivated, to be able to withstand
his bold and insidious attacks. But there are a
more dangerous sort of chapmen, pretiosi emptores
dedecorum, who will bid high for you, if eminent
for good life and learning : but never barter away
your principles for preferment, for you can never
have an equivalent for a good conscience, which
will be a continual feast to the honest poor and
needy, affording more refreshing and wholesome
nutriment, than the full table of a veering divine.
I shall now conclude in good earnest, commit-
ting you to God Almighty’s protection, whose
blessing, be sure every day and night to implore
upon your endeavours; else, you may rise early
and sit up late in your study, and come out as
insignificant as you went in.
Vale ; tibique persuadeas esse te quidèm mihi
charissimum ; sed multo fore cariorem, si talibus
preceptislatabere. -
PRIVATE MEMOIRS,
NUNC RETRORSUM
VELA DARE, AT&LE ITERARE CURSUS
.COGOR RELICTOS.
Hor. Lib. I. Ode 34.
T H E PR E F A C E .
I Do not believe the transactions of my life considerable
enough to become a publick entertainment, or my stile so
transcendant as to excuse the poorness of the subject. I
must therefore inform the accidental reader, I writ these
memoirs for my own private use, or at most to be trans-
mitted to my own posterity, that they may know from
what sort of parents they sprang. Though they may dis-
cover many defects in me, they will find so many perfec-
tions in the true character of my dear wife, that they may
justly glory in her; and have no reason I hope to be
ashamed of their father. I was variously affected as I was
penning of these papers, being mightily troubled at my
youthful faults and follies, as well as for riper failures. But
when I came to treat of my misfortunes, I distinctly suffered
past calamities. The death of my dear wife was an ineffable
cause of sorrow, and her father's displeasure an outrageous
affliction. But religion had taught me, what Zeno's phi-
losophy did a young man, who, being asked what he learnt
by frequenting his school, replied, “didici patris ferre
” so I have learnt to bear the displeasure of an angry
father, occasioned by the secret whispers of waspish detract.
ors, whose malicious proceedings I will pass over, and
endeavour to forget as well as forgive. It may be the
reader may think me too particular in the account of my
D
ăram ;
22
love and courtship of my dear wife, and our family concerns;
I can only tell him, 'twas a subject I delighted to dwell
upon, esteeming it the most important part of my life. She
keeps the sole possession of my heart, dead, as well as
living; and my thoughts seldom stray from her.
I have thought it one of the greatest inflictions of my
life to be cast in a time of great revolutions, for upon
frequent changing of princes there are still required fresh
assurances of the subjects loyalty; kings believing by such
methods to fix the sceptre firmer in their hands. But
imposing of oaths often proves but a weak support to the
crown; for if men are persuaded only by their interest to
take them, they will be sure to vomit them up again at the
first opportunity. But he who really designs to obey, will
do it without a disputable obligation. I think all virtuous
legislators will have a tender regard to the consciences of
their fellow subjects, and not enact a disputable point; and
so put an end to a controversy by making one part of it
law, and its opponents to believe at their peril. But this
has been the practise of late times, which I hope will never
be revived again.
I have nothing more to add, but to implore the Almighty
that my writing of these memoirs may have this good effect,
as to create in me a penitence for my past sins, and a
thankfullness for past mercies, and amendment of life; so
that the remaining part of my days, I may live in all god-
liness and honesty, which is the hearty prayer of
J. P.
M E M 0 I R. S.
THough I intend to write my own memoirs, I
shall not persue the usual method of relating the
commendable passages of my life, industriously
concealing the unhappy failures of the several
stages of my age. No–I, who am about to give
an account of myself to myself, must impartially
relate my manifold crimes, and the several bless-
ings of the Almighty, that, upon the review of
what is past, I may become an humble penitent
for the first, and thankfully acknowledge the last,
that I may not stop the current of IHis future
favours, who live daily in want of them, to enable
me to run the tedious course of life.
I was born, I think, the twenty-first day of July,
1647. In my infancy, I was violently afflicted
with a defluxion of rheum upon my left eye,
which endangered the loss of it, and mightily
retarded my learning to read. I was likewise
24 MEMOIRs of
troubled with several tumours, which, I believe,
were the king's evil; for I was never clear of
them, till I was touched by King Charles the
second, just after his restoration. Let others
dispute the virtue of his hand, I shall always, by
God’s blessing, think I received my cure from him.
When I was about six years old, I was left by
my parents at Winchester, to the care of Mr. May,
a fellow of the college, a very worthy gentleman,
who provided all things for me. I did not yet
goe to the school in the college, but was taught
with other gentlemen's sons, by a select number
of the senior boys, who were to give an account
to Dr. Burt, the schoolmaster, by turns, how we
behaved ourselves, and what progress we made in
learning.
At the end of two years I went into the school,
and at nine years of age, as I remember, was
elected into the foundation; but I was so dull and
idle, that I indifferently understood my grammar
rules. When I came to make verses, I could not
apprehend the quantities of words, or the right
measures of a verse, though I was frequently told
by my tutor; it being the method of that school,
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 25
to have one of the senior boys to inspect their
exercises, and prepare them for the usher’s, or the
master's view. I continued in this state of igno-
rance, till I came to be very high in the school,
being forced by artifices, and shifts, and the help
of others, very sorrily, to perform what was ex-
pected from one in my place.* I made verses by
the ear, so that, if they sounded well, I put them
down at a venture, which often-times, occasioned
my making false quantities; but now and then, I
was guilty of that unpardonable sin, a false posi-
tion, to my great mortification. Having often
exposed myself to the contempt and laughter of
my equals, I began to reflect on this unsufferable
defect, and resolved to endeavour its amendment,
which was done at last to my great satisfaction,
and better reputation. The last year I stayed at
Winchester, I profited more, than I did in several
* An old book which belonged to the author at this time, is at
Melcombe, and rather interests a Wykehamist. Its principal
component parts are, first, a Winchester school book of that age,
entituled, “ Preces. Grammaticalia quaedam. Rhetorica brevis,
Oxoniae, excudebat Josephus Barnesius. 1616.” And second,
“An English exposition of the Roman Antiquities, &c., by Thomas
Godwin, M. A., for the use of Abingdon School, at Oxford, printed
by Joseph Barnes, 1614.” Interspersed among these, upon the
blank leaves, are various Wykehamical poems, declamations, &c.,
in short, it was a regular school boy’s common-place-book.
It may be worth remarking that his name, which appears in
two or three places, is always spelt Pottinger.
26 *..
MEMOIRS OF
years before. I had always a conscience, sensible
of all the sins of my tender age, and as I was often
sick of fevers, and agues, I as often used to be
sorry for my misdeeds; but if I thought any of
these distempers not mortal, I was glad of the
supportable affliction, it being a warrantable excuse
for my not learning my book. About the thir-
teenth year of my age, (the Christmas before the
return of King Charles the second,) I lost a loving
father.” I was not so young but I was deeply
sensible of the misfortune, knowing at what an
unseasonable time I was deprived of him, when he
should have received a reward for his loyal suffer-
ings, which might have been a great advantage to
his family. He would often discourse with me,
though young, about the unhappy times, and
lament the church's, and the king's misfortune,
which made a great impression on me, and laid
the foundation, I hope, of my being a true son of
the Church of England, and an obedient subject
* Dr. John Potenger, who was appointed master of Winchester
school, August 1st, 1642.
In Wood’s Fasti Oxonienses, (Edit. Bliss. Vol. II. p. 100) there
is the following motice of him, amongst those who took the degree
of Doctor of Divinity in 1646. “August 13. John Pottinger of
New College, the famous master of Wyckham's school, near
Winchester. He resigned the said mastership soon after, was
succeeded by Mr. Wm. Burt, and died in 1659.”
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 2
7
to my lawful prince. My relations, and other
persons, after the death of my father, doubted my
obedience to my mother, which made them prac-
tise such methods towards me, as had dispirited
another, but my mother never approved of their
proceedings. When I had spent so much time at
school, as had carried me up to be the senior of
the fifth book, I was between sixteen and seven-
teen years of age; my mother, by the advice of
friends, resolved to remove me to Oxford. A
Hantshire place in Corpus Christi college in
Oxford, being then void, they all proposed my
standing for it, which I was willing to do, that I
might be freed from the bondage of a school : but
I was very doubtfull of my ability for such an
adventure, having two school-fellows my competi-
tors for the same place, both my seniors, and both
better scholars: so that I had nothing but my
age, which gave me any advantage of them, being
some years younger, a circumstance much con-
sidered by the electors. I had likewise the good
fortune on the day of election, to have such places
in Horace and Lucius Florus put to us, who were
candidates, to construe, which I understood much
D 4
28 MEMOIRS OF
better than they. And Dr. Morley, the then
bishop of Winchester, gave me his letter to recom-
mend me to the college, so that by favour and
good fortune, I was elected into the foundation,
my youth commuting for my slender proficiency
in the Greek tongue. It was a great victory con-
sidering with what force it was obtained. I was
mightily pleased, but not in the least puft up,
being conscious of my own weakness.
Now to repair these defects, great care was
taken by my friends, to provide me such a
tutor as might improve my skill in the Latin, and
Greek tongues. I had the good fortune to be put
to Mr. John Roswell, a man, eminent for learning
and piety, whose care and diligence ought grate-
fully to be remembered by me as long as I live.
I think he preserved me from ruin, at my first
setting out into the world. He did not only
endeavour to make his pupils good scholars, but
good men. He narrowly watched my conversa-
tion; knowing I had too many acquaintance in the
university that I was fond of, though they were
not fit for me. Those he disliked, he would not
let me converse with, which I regretted much,
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 29
thinking that, now I was come from school,
I was to manage myself as I pleased, which
occasioned many differences between us for the
first two years, which ended in an entire friendship
on both sides. I did not immediately enter upon
logick and philosophy, but was kept for a full year
to the reading of classical authors, and making of
theams in prose and verse. I was forced to
manage myself with great circumspection, that
my fellows might not find out my blind side,
though they shrewdly ghessed at it. In discourse
I seldom offered at anything I did not understand.
At dinner and supper, it being the custom to speak
latin, my words were few, till I came to a tolle-
rable proficiency in colloquial latin. My tutor,
Mr. Roswell, was so pleased with several of my
performances in latin, and english verse, that he
gave me several books for an encouragement. I
acquired just logick and philosophy enough, to
dispute in my turn in the hall, for I was addicted
most to poetry, and making of declamations,
two exercises I desired to excell in. My talent in
declaiming, was beyond being safe, though I dare
not say I reached an excellence. I was never
30 MEMOIRS OF
nimble in composing, my invention being slow,
and my judgment doubtfull in chusing. My head
would not bear long thinking, so that I was forced
to relieve myself with some diversion, or another
employment. I hated to have a subject imposed
upon me, loving to have a free choice, which
enlivened my fancy, and fired me with an ambition
of doing something extraordinary, for I was
always covetous of a tollerable reputation.
Being about twenty years of age, the time drew
nigh for me to go out Bachelour of Arts, and in
order to that, I did my publick exercises in the
schools, and my private in the college. If I was
safe in the rest, 'twas well, for I remember but one,
which I did performe to my own or others liking;
which was, my reading in the college hall upon
Horace. I opened my lectures with a speech,
which I thought pleased the auditors, as well as
myself.
Being Bachelour of Arts, I was free from the
government of a tutor, and wholly left to my own
management and freedom, as far as it was consis-
tent with the college and university discipline.
'Tis with horror and amazement, I look back upon
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 31
these eleven ensuing years: though I commenced
vicious at Oxford, London completed the sinner,
which I visited several times before I left the
university. I must confess I was tinctured with
all the vices of the age, though I was not totally
possessed by them ; neither was I so hard as to
be without any secret stings of conscience; but
they served only to make me sad, and not to
mend, till God, by his grace, in some measure
rescued me from destruction. It has often been
the subject of a thankfull meditation, my not being
cut off in the midst of these many sins I have
committed, and taken away whilst I was in a
course of iniquities. Though I was so highly
criminal, yet I was not so notorious as to incurr
the censure of the governors of the college, or the
university, but for sleeping out morning prayer,
for which I was frequently punished. The two
last years I stayed in the university, I was Bache-
lour of Arts, and I spent most of my time in
reading books, which were not very common, as
Milton's Works, Hobbs his Leviathan; but they
never had the power to subvert the principles
which I had received, of a good christian, and a
32 MEMOIRS OF
good subject. Now I was to determine what
profession I would be of. My mother, and others
of my relations, were mightily inclined to my
being a divine; but I, who understood my own
licentious temper, and my ignorance of the greek
tongue, thought I should dishonour that calling
by my life, or by my ignorance, proposed my
being a lawyer, which at last prevailed; I was
entered of the Inner Temple, some time before I
left Oxford. But, some of my friends surmising
that my inclination to the law proceeded from my
unwillingness to do my exercises for my Master of
Arts degree, to take off all suspicion of that nature,
I performed the greatest and most difficult part of
them before I quitted the college.
When I was twenty three years of age, I
resigned my place and went to the Temple, where
I followed my pleasure more than my study,
delighting in fine clothes, and the best of company,
for I had a spirit above a mean conversation,
always choosing, if possible, to be the worst for
quality or parts, of the society.* 'Twas difficult
* There is a remarkable coincidence between the sentiments
here expressed, and those of a much more illustrious memoir
writer. Wide Clarendon's life, part 1. “He never took more
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 33
at first to get companions of my pleasures, or my
studies, suitable to my humour, for I was nice in
both ; esteeming the best quality a recommenda-
tion of the first, and wit and learning of the
second sort of persons, to my associating with
them, so that I might acquire good breeding by
the one, and better knowledge by the other.
I remember in an essay of Love, it was observed
that passion always produces poetry, if the soil be
not too barren. I think 'twas that made me a
versifier, for I always had an honest amour going.
My first mistress never knew from me my inclina-
tions, but she had, as I heard, a sight of a copy
of verses made on her by me, then a boy at Ox-
ford. She was quickly married from me, and I
pleasure in anything, than in frequently mentioning, and naming
those persons, who were then his friends, or of his most familiar
conversation ; and in remembering their particular virtues and
faculties ; and used often to say, ‘ that he never was so proud, or
thought himself so good a man, as when he was the worst man in
the company;’ all his friends and companions being, in their
quality, in their fortunes, at least in their faculties and endow-
ments of mind, very much his superiors; and he always charged
his children to follow his example in that point, in making their
friendships and conversation, protesting that in the whole course
of his life, he never new one man, of what condition soever, arrive
to any degree of reputation in the world, who made choice or
delighted in the company or conversations of those, who in their
qualities were inferior or in their parts not much superior to
himself.”
E
34 MEM OTRS OF
had another as quickly in chase, who to my great
happiness refused me.
About a year after I came to London, I went
into Wiltshire, to Mr. Michael Ernle’s, who mar-
ried my mother's youngest sister, where I fell sick
of the small-pox. My good mother upon notice
came to me, and by God’s mercy, and her care, I
recovered, though I thought I should have died,
which renewed my penitence for my grievous sins;
but when I was recovered, I forgot or broke
through my sick vows of amendment, which God
of his infinite mercy, I hope, will forgive.
Not long after, or before this, there was a set
of male-contents, which used to meet at the
“King's Head Tavern,” over against the “Temple
Gate,” which was called the “Green-Ribbon
Club.” most of them of no religion, and all of
them of as bad morals ; who dayly, as young
gentlemen came to that part of the town, or
were entered in any of the two inns of court,
endeavoured to make them members of their club.
I had many invitations from the most considerable
of that political meeting, to be one of them; but I
always detested their principles, and their practice,
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 35
and prevented some unwary young gentlemen from
being perverted by them. A great many of these
pretended patriots coming into employ in after
time, shewed their fundamental principle was
interest; sacrificing, as far as in them lay, the
liberty of their country, and religion of their
Church, to that idol. The next summer I went
into Wiltshire in the long vacation, where I
chanced to discourse with my uncle, Mr. Ernle, of
Sir John Ernle’s” three daughters; who, giving a
character of each of them, so fired me with the
idea of the second, Mrs. Philadelphia, that I was
in love with her before I saw her, and she quite
turned my former mistress out of my mind. My
next design was to get a sight of her, which at
last, by my uncle's help, I obtained, at her father’s
house. I was fully confirmed in my love, and
now I was only contriving how to render myself
acceptable to her, to have the matter proposed to
her father, which some time after was done by
her uncle and god-father, Mr. Daniel; but her
father would not admit of the proposal, he being
* For a short account of this gentleman and his family, vide
Appendix (B.)
36 MEMOIRS OF
not in circumstances then to give a fortune, and I
had not an estate to maintain her without one.
Though my hopes were small, my love was great,
still increasing by my fresh discovery of her desert.
It was two years before I spoke to her, and then
she entertained my suit with so much modesty
and caution, that I was the more inflamed. I
desired her to give me leave to qualifie myself by
study, or by getting some employment, so as her
father should have no reasonable ground to refuse
my petition. She always discouraged the under-
taking, as thinking it fruitless, her father being
inflexible ; but he never refused me paying her
and her sisters, a civil visit once in a month,
which I performed with all the care imaginable.
Though my mistress was always in my thoughts,
my love to her made me prosecute my study of
the law, more than I believe I should without
that provocation, and at last I went out Barrister-
at-law.
The Christmas following, it pleased God to visit
Sir John Ernle’s family with the small-pox, which
seized on Mrs. Philadelphia to my grief. The
night she fell sick, I made by accident the three
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 37
sisters a visit, and found them in great perplexity
for a nurse to look after her during her sickness.
I told them, if their father would permit, I could
procure a good one. They immediately asked his
leave, and I went and fetched a nurse in a coach.
My care and concern for her in this distemper
made some impression on her, though then she
would not own any such matter to me. I used
every night to go to the house, and leave
such things for her, as I was advised should be
given her, so that after we were married, she told
me she thought I saved her life, which she was
willing to have yielded up, if God had thought fit.
When she and her sisters were recovered of the
small-pox, they went into the country to air them-
selves. They had not been long gone, before I
stole out of Town to make them a visit in the
country, and to improve my interest in my mis-
tress; but I was very doubtful of my reception,
knowing how nice she was in these points, and
carefull not to offend her father. Having received
some satisfaction in my journey, I returned to
London, where I was saluted with the news of Sir
John Ernle’s being made Chancellor of the Ex-
38 MEMOIRS OF
chequer.* I was divided betwixt my joy, and my
fear. I was glad so good fortune happened to a
family I had so great concern for, but was fearfull
his advancement might be an impediment to my
design, knowing that change of fortune alters
persons not truly honourable.
The next long vacation, to show I was resolved
on business, I went the Oxford Circuit, and had
the good luck to be imployed as much as so
friendless a young councellor could expect; but I
was mightily disheartened to find good drinking,
and courting the attorneys, the grand foundation
of a good practice, for though I was too often
guilty of intemperance, ’twas always against my
inclination, and I could not stoop to that Sordid
compliance, as to court those caterpillers of the
nation. When I came off the circuit into Wilt-
shire, I had the happiness of seeing Mrs. Philadel-
phia, whom I found not at all elevated by her
father's advancement, but humbly thankfull for so
* He was made a Lord of the Treasury, according to Beatson’s
Political Index, March 26, 1679, when Essex succeeded Danby as
first Lord—and Chancellor of the Exchequer, upon Essex’s resig-
nation late in the same year: but it would appear from these
memoirs, that he must have been Chancellor of the Exchequer
some time before, probably in 1673, when Danby succeeded
Thomas Lord Clifford, as Lord High Treasurer.
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 39
great a blessing to her family. After great
sollicitation, and three years address, I thought I
was not wholly indifferent to her, which much
encouraged me in the prosecution of my studys,
and in finding out some way of life, which might
be fitted to my design. Mrs. Philadelphia, and
her sister Susan, went to London about Michael-
mas, I came up to Town at the beginning of the
term. In a short time I waited upon her sister at
their father's house in St. James's Street. After
we had conversed some little time, my good friend
Mrs. Dorothy told me, her father as Chancellor
of the Exchequer, had the disposal of the * Comp-
troller of the Pipe’s place, when vacant; and that
Mr. Bruster the present Comptroller, was so far
gone in a consumption, that there was but small
hopes of his recovery : who, being sensible of his
weak condition, desired to change his life, and put
another in his place, and that he and her father
could not agree upon terms. Then she proposed
my agreeing with him and her father. I readily
embraced the proposition, if I could have the
* For a short account of this now abolished place, vide Appen-
dix (A.) .
E 4
40 MEMOIRS OF
consent of Sir John Ernle. She proposed the
matter, I think, to her father, and I was admitted
to deal with him about terms. Sir John valued
Mr. Bruster's life at a year's purchase, and the
place at £1200. As soon as I had the sole power
to treat with Mr. Bruster, I went to a friend of
mine, an officer of the same Court, and desired
him to inform Mr. Bruster, that I was the only
person who had liberty to deal with him for his
place, and that I would wait on him, when and
where he pleased. My friend acted accordingly;
and we met at a publick house near the Court,
where I told him he should not deceive himself by
thinking any body else had a power to treat with
him, for I only had that privilege, and that now I
was come for that purpose. After some discourse,
he made a proposal of parting with his place for
#1800. I told him that was unreasonable, and
that he raised the price, not for himself, but the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, who valued his life
but at a year's purchase, and that I could have
much better terms from the Chancellor than from
him. He was moved at this discourse, and so we
parted. And, as I heard afterwards, he was per-
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 41
suaded by others to treat with them. But now,
Sir John Ernle sent to me to tell me, he would
allow me but a week more to finish the business,
and, if I could not do it in that time, he would be
at liberty. I was surprised, but knowing it was
in vain to contest, I only said, I would use the
time he set me as well as I could, though I had
little hopes of ending so considerable an affair, at
so short a warning. I told the ladies of their
father's resolution, who were as much surprised
as I was. Before or after Christmas, Mr. Bruster
died, and Sir John Ernle had the sole disposal of
the place. I waited on him to acquaint him of
his death, which I found he knew before I came.
He assured me, that if my Lord Treasurer did not
interpose, I should have the refusal of the office.
My Lord Treasurer did not interpose, but Sir
John's secretary, Mr. Lawrence, provided him
with another chapman, who raised the price from
3.1200 to £1400; but it did not end so, for the
next time I waited on the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, I was raised to £1700, which troubled
me, but I was resolved to be the purchaser, and
agreed to pay the money. When I had con-
42 MEMOIRS OF
tracted for the office, I was in great concern how
to raise such a sum, though I was permitted to
pay down but £1200, and to give bond for the
remaining £500. I tried some of my own rela-
tions, on whom I depended, who refused to assist
me. Being in great perplexity, my friend Mr.
Cooke prevailed with his father to lend me £1000
on a mortgage, and £200 upon bond, which I
paid to Sir John Ernle, and gave Mr. Daniel a
bond for £500. This being done, I was presented
to the Court of Exchequer by the Chancellor, to
be sworn, and was accordingly in Hillary term,
1676.
When I entered upon the office, I found in it
two ungovernable clerks, who had kept the former
comptroller, as I was informed, in great subjection.
The eldest understood his business well, but did
not care how little he did of it, or how large fees
he took. He was very reserved, so that he dis-
covered nothing which he could possibly conceal,
and endeavoured always to make an advantage of
my ignorance. The younger was a whimsical,
uncertain man, not to be depended on, and under
the government of the other. I was forced to
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 43
dissemble my concern, at finding things in this
posture, till I was better acquainted with the
business of the office. But by a strict observing
their management, I discovered the eldest clerk in
his account for one year's casual fees, had cheated
me #48. After I had obtained full evidence of
the fraud, I turned him out of the office. IHe
made frequent applications to the Barons to be
restored; but, missing his aim, we had a trial in
the Exchequer, at which he produced, as he pre-
tended, my grant of all casual fees to him signed
by me, adding forgery to his fraud. I offered to
swear I never set my hand to any such grant, and
to prove what I said was true, I made it appear,
since the date of that pretended grant, he always
accounted for casual fees to me; and upon being
accused by Sir John Ernle the Chancellor of the
Exchequer for the cheat, he owned he ought to
account for them, which the Chancellor attested
under his hand. After a full hearing, my Lord
Chief Baron, with most of the Barons, gave direc-
tion to the jury to find for me; but the jury,
influenced by the voice of the under-clerks, who
always confederate against the master of an office,
44 MEMOITRS OF
and by some persons of the jury, who, in those
turbulent times of whigg and tory, were of a con-
trary opinion to me, resolved to bring in a verdict
for him ; which I being informed of by an honest
gentleman of the jury, who could not prevail to
have a verdict for me, I did not appear in court
when the jury returned their verdict. I kept this
fellow out for a year, but perceiving that the court
was willing to have him restored, I admitted him
again upon composition ; but he always continued
false, and I was discouraged in my business.
Now I must return to my amour, for, either
whilst I was employed in getting, or settling my
office, a gentleman whom I knew, starts up my
rival : the first time I heard any thing of him was
as I was making a visit to my mistress and her
two sisters; the youngest, Mrs. Susan, asked me
my opinion of the gentleman, and by the help of
the eldest, Mrs. Dorothy, managed the question
so that I should think he was to be her servant.
I was very cautious in my character, saying
nothing to the disadvantage, or any thing to
recommend him. He was their grandfather's
neighbour in the country, and, by having a pre-
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 45
sent estate, and by accepting what terms Sir John
Ernle pleased to make, he dreamed of nothing less
than a refusal. My chamber-fellow, Mr. Cooke,
in two or three days discovered his design of
courting Mrs. Philadelphia, and told me of it.
I was mightily surprised, and waited on my
mistress as soon as I could conveniently, to get a
better account of the matter, and to expostulate
with her, why she concealed that from me, which
so nearly concerned me. She made light of it,
and bid me not be troubled ; but her father, I
found, was not averse to the proposal, and his
lady, the lady Seymour,” approved of the match,
because the terms were easy.
Now, if I could not be assured by my mistress,
I doubted my affairs would be but in a bad con-
dition, therefore I endeavoured to engage her to
promise me not to have her new lover. She told
me she would not, if her father did not positively
* Elizabeth, daughter of William Lord Allington of Horsheath,
county Cambridge, was the widow of Charles, (son of Sir Francis
Seymour, Knt.) first Baron Seymour of Trowbridge, who died,
August 25th, 1665.
She re-married with Sir John Ernle, in 1672. By her first
husband she had two sons, successively Dukes of Somerset:—
Francis, Fifth Duke, murdered at Lerici in Italy, 1678—and
Charles, sixth Duke, well known as the proud Duke of Somerset.
Pide Collins's Peerage.
F
46 MEMOIRS OF
command her, which she believed he would not
do : but if he did, she must obey, though (as she
expressed it) she had rather be buried alive. The
gentleman sent her a letter by a friend of his,
which she received coldly, not daining to read it
at the present, or to return an answer. This
usage mightily damped him, and, I believe, made
him give over his suit. But afterwards, the Duke
of Somerset,” who was unfortunately killed in
Italy, brought a gentleman who had a better
estate, and a more agreeable person, for a servant
to her eldest sister; who, upon seeing them all,
liked Mrs, Philadelphia so well, that he offered to
abate £500 in the portion if he might have her :
but when he understood how she was engaged, he
very honourably desisted. -
Not long after these impediments were removed,
her younger sister Mrs. Susan, was married to
Mr. Robinson, whom Sir John Ernle got knighted.
He being a young man, not to be long trusted in
town, the new-married couple went to his house
in the country, (viz.) Northamptonshire, and
pitched upon her sister, Mrs. Philadelphia, to be
* Wide last note,
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 47
her companion in her retreat. She could not
well refuse, for fear she should be suspected to do
it on my account, and her father was pleased at
the proposal, it may be, to remove her out of my
way. It was with great concern I parted with
her to her sister for some months. Though I
received letters from her, my discontent was so
great, that, upon going with Sir Humphrey For-
rester and Mr. Cooke to see Bedlam, new built in
Moorfields, the Sunday following, I was either
affected with that melancholy sight, or so much
concerned at her absence, that I was violently
seized on a sudden with a fit of sighing, and grew
so faint that I feared I should have lost my senses,
or my life. Physicians were sent for by my sister,
who disciplined me as they thought fit all night.
The next day, Mr. Cooke sent his man into
Northamptonshire, with a letter to Mrs. Philadel-
phia, in which he gave a full account of my
deplorable condition. She made as much haste
as she could with decency to my relief. The
lady's speedy return to London was a great
cordial, but I was so afflicted with flatus hypocon-
driacus, that it could not effect a perfect cure.
48 MEMO IRS OF
The first time I saw her, she did not fondly soothe
my passion, but kindly rebuked me for my indis-
cretion in putting myself into so bad a state of
health.
Being weary of living under so many hassards
of loosing her, and my misfortune of not having
my suit granted after seven-years sollicitation, I
resolved to try to get her father's consent, who
had almost promised it, when I could settle an
estate free from all incumbrances. I acquainted
Mrs. Philadelphia with the truth of my circum-
stances, how that I had paid Mr. Cooke all but
£600, and that I owed two more, but I could
bring her father a clear estate, to settle upon her
and hers. She did not disapprove of my design,
but her father was so angry at the notion, that he
asked me, “if I would have his child whether he
would or no 7” I answered, “ he was assured of
the contrary, for I had promised him to wait his
approbation; but, if I would do otherwise, he had
a daughter, who never knew any thing but obedi-
ence to his commands:” so we parted both with
dissatisfaction. I went up to the ladies full of
grief, deploring my hard fate, which she seemed
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 49
to be sensible of, but managed her resentment
with great prudence. I took my leave of her, and
my true friend Mrs. Dorothy, and returned to my
chamber in the Temple full of anxious thoughts.
After I had spent two or three days in tormenting
reflections, I writ as moving a letter as I could to
Mrs. Dorothy, in which I desired she would appoint
a time, in which I might wait on her for an hour in
the Parke, either immediately, or in a day or two
after. She sent me word she would be in the
Parke at twelve of the clocke. I observed the
time punctually, and found her, my lady Seymour,
and her sister Philadelphia, walking together.
When they saw me, Mrs. Dorothy left them, and
came smiling towards me, and asked “if I had a
mind to be married 3” I answered, “she need
not doubt that, supposing it was to the right
person.” “Why then” said she, “upon reading
your letter, I was so touched with your misfor-
tune, that I could not refrain from tears; and my
uncle Daniel being present, I shewed him your
letter, who was almost as much concerned as I,
and, before he left us, tooke an opportunity to
speak to my father to conclude an affair, which
50 * MEMOIRS OF
had been so long depending. After they had
debated the matter some time, my father con-
sented you should marry my sister on the second
of July ensuing, if you accepted of his terms.”
I told her “no terms could be hard for me, if her
sister would agree to them, and I was mighty
desirous to know whether she would or no;” upon
which Mrs. Dorothy returned to my lady Seymour,
and I had an opportunity to discourse the terms
over with Mrs. Philadelphia.” “Madam,” said I,
“your sister has informed me upon what conditions
you and I may conclude what I have so long
desired : if I consider myself, I do not look upon
them as hard, but when you are under my con-
sideration, they are intollerable ; but if you can so
comply with my passion as to admit of them, I
shall acknowledge the favour by a continued kind-
ness as long as I live.” She told me I had the
worst of it, and that she was willing to do any-
thing for my satisfaction, and so we concluded to
provide against the second of July,t which was .
accordingly done, and on that day, to my preset
* Unhappily these terms are no where recited.
# A. D. 1678.
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 51
and future satisfaction, we were married, I being
thirty-one years of age, and she being twenty-four.
The management of relations, before and after
we were married, was sufficient to abate our satis.
faction, had it not been founded on an entire
affection for each other; but now it made our joys
more sedate and silent, without impeaching our
mutual happiness. I remember my dear Heart
one morning told me she had a request to make,
I answered she might be sure 'twas granted, if in
my power; she replied, 'twas to go with her to
the Sacrament. I willingly embraced the proposi-
tion, and we both received at St. Martin's church.
I think this was the first step I made in my new
course of life. We stayed in her father's house
about six weeks, till we had ended our business in
town, and then we went to my aunt Collins, her
house in Hantshire, where we intended to board,
till we were in a better condition to keep house.
Her sister, Mrs. Dorothy, favoured us with her
company. The remaining part of the summer,
we spent in visiting mine, and her relations. At
Michaelmas, we returned to Corhampton, the
place where my mother and aunt lived.
F 4
52 MEMOIRS OF
About this time the popish plot opened, and Dr.
Oats made his wonderful discovery. Sir Edmond
Bury Godfrey was just missing, and all the country
was alarmed at the news, and in a dreadfull appre-
hension of the army of pilgrims, which came over,
incognito, with their black bills and staves. During
the consternation, Sir Henry Tichbourne, an emi-
nent papist, invited us to dinner. As I was going
to his house, I charged my man to keep himself
sober, which he promised me to do. When I
came to Tichbourne, Sir Henry and my lady
received me with all the civility imaginable, but I
observed I was the only protestant at the table.
Whilst we were eating, the Plot was the subject-
matter of our discourse, the protestant part of
which was my province, and the popish theirs,
which, by the help of their priest, they managed
so indifferently, that they raised a greater sus-
picion in me than I brought with me. I believe
my imagination grew stronger as the glass went
about faster. As soon as I found I had my com-
plement of claret, I took my leave, but when I
came to take horse, my man could scarce take his.
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 53
Mr. Lacy and his wife came away at the same
time in their coach. When we came out of the
park, my man fell off his horse before the coach,
in the highway, dead drunk. When they had
removed him, I took both my horses in my hand,
resolving to quit my popish companions, though
they persuaded me to the contrary. In the open
air, the Plot and the wine began to work, and I
thought myself in as great danger as Dr. Oats
said the nation was ; therefore I went away alone, .
till I came to a private house, where I found a
maid frighted to see me with my sword in one,
and my horses in the other, hand. I perceived
she was running out to raise the parish, and being
unwilling to be apprehended in such a posture,
I locked the door; but she, slipped out at another,
and levied a strong party of mob. When I heard
them marching towards me, I leaped over a pair
of pales, and left my horses to the enemy, who
persued me very hotly with gun, pike, and other
parish artillery. Having run myself out of breath,
as the foe approached, I claped down in a ditch in
the dark. I stayed there some time till the coast
54 MEMOIRS OF
was clear, and then I tried to find an house. At
last I came to a private one in the woods. The
people were very shy of giving me entertainment,
and were very full of questions, believing me to be
a conspirator, who came from Tichbourne house;
but when they knew my name they were very
civil, and sent a messenger to Mr. Lacy, to send
horses for me. He kindly came himself, and
brought a horse for me, and his servant waited on
me home to my poor wife, who was terribly
frighted, and big with child; but she was ex-
tremely comforted when she saw me, and thanked
God for my deliverance. Dr. Harrisson, the
minister of Cherryton, as Lord of the Manor,
seized my horses, which he kindly restored upon
my letter. I lost, for the present, my coat and
sword, which were found before I returned from
London, where I met Dr. Harrisson, and thanked
him for his civility. He told me, he headed the
party which persued me for a plotter, and that
they had certainly killed me, if they had overtaken
me in my flight.
On the last day of March ensuing, my wife was
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 55
delivered of a daughter, who received her name in
baptism, (viz.) Philadelphia. Two years after,
she had another, whose name was Barbara. Our
family now increasing, my aunt Collins began to
be uneasy with so much company, though she
was well paid for her trouble. We quickly per-
ceived the meaning, and I went up to London to
take care to get an house, as cheap and as good as
I could. Before I brought up my family to town,
I furnished some rooms, and then we took our
leaves of my aunt, having lived with her about
three years.
Our coming to town was not approved of by
some persons, who feared we might have too
great interest in Sir John Ernle; but, by help of
some out of the family, care was taken to prevent
that. My old friend, my wife's sister Dorothy,
turned against us. She repented of her proceed-
ings when disabused, but more particularly after
she was married, and owned she was moved to it
by the false surmises and base suggestions of
others. I heartily forgave her what was past, for
her former kindness to me in my amour. I must
56 MEMOIRS OF
confess, I used to expose the other incendiaries,
which made them point all their malice against
me, pretending a great respect and kindness for
my wife, whom at the same time their hellish pro-
ceedings had almost brought to the grave. When
I found by the help of lady Seymour, Sir John
Ernle’s ear was open to all their informations against
me, either true or false, I resolved to give myself
no further trouble in endeavouring to prevent their
malice, but to keep myself out of its way by
another conversation. My wife and I fell ac-
quainted with persons of the best quality and
repute about town, who were above admitting
such miscreants as our disturbers into their con-
versation. During all this malicious prosecution,
we kept close united by the bonds of a true affec-
tion, never disclosing our circumstances to any of
mine, or her family, so that in three years time
after we came to town, we had cleared ourselves
of all incumbrances, and got some money in our
pockets, though we lived so well to appearance,
that many, who would have had it so, thought we
lived above our fortune. To add to our mis-
fortune, during these three years we lost our
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 5
7
youngest daughter, Barbara, and Philadelphia, the
eldest, broke her arm in a miserable manner, and
not long after, fell sick of the small-pox; but
thanks be to God, her arm was well set, and she
recovered of this distemper.
At this time, the nation was in a great ferment,
most persons being distinguished by the oppro-
brious names of Whig, and Tory; but there was
a third sort of persons, who had the appellation of
Trimmers, who squinted too much toward the
Whigs, though they pretended great impartiality.
The Whigs, who would assume the glorious title
of patriots, by their seeming care of their king
and their country against papists, had almost
subverted the government. I always faithfully
adhered to poor king Charles the Second, and
though I cannot deny but that there were failures
in his reign, yet all the deadly sins, and the great
miscarriages were on the Whigs’ side. Sir Henry
Robinson, being weary of the country, and the
honest pleasures of marriage, stole away from his
wife, with a design to go away beyond sea, with
a mistress. My wife received a letter from her
sister to acquaint her with the matter, and to
G
58 MEMOIRS OF
desire me to assist her in her distress, which I did,
and got her husband to settle his estate, so that
he could not ruin his family by his extravagance.
After this, my sister Hodges lost her husband,
whom I served to the best of my power, during
her widow-hood. Sir John Ernle, I think, seeing
my readiness to serve his family, began to change
his behaviour toward me ; and at mine, and my
wife's request, bestowed a place in the Custom-
house on my brother. In a short time, Mr.
Lawrence, his secretary, fell dangerously ill; when
he was past recovery, I asked his place for myself,
which he granted, though he was sollicited to
bestow it on another person. I had formerly
petitioned the Lords of the Treasury for a very
good place, which was in their gift, which they
conferred on Colonel Halsey, but assured me I
should have the next I would accept of, and
entered their promise in their minutes. Whilst I
was at Hanwell, about my sister Hodges her
affairs, Sir John Ernle sent me a letter to come to
town, and to draw a petition for the Master in
Chancery’s place, to the Lords of the Treasury,
and give it him. I quickly obeyed his commands,
hº
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 59
and he presented it to the Lords, who immediately
granted me the Master in Chancery's place, in
the Alienation office. But before their grant
could be compleated, King Charles the Second
dies,” and that commission of the Treasury was
dissolved. I need not tell what general grief
there was for the king; the very disturbers of his
life lamented his death : but King James, the
same day the crown descended to him, gave such
assurance the government in church and state
should be maintained, that it quieted the nation.
My Lord Rochester was made Lord Treasurer,
and Sir John Ernle was continued Chancellor
of the Exchequer, who obtained of my Lord
Treasurer a fresh grant of the Master in Chan-
cery's place, in the Alienation office, and the Starr
Chamber lodgings in the palace yard; so that
now our domestick foes were mortified extremely,
believing me to be very much in Sir John Ermle's
favour, which I never used to their prejudice,
being fully satisfied with so good a turne of
fortune.
Though the chiefest preferment I had, was
* February 6th, 1685,
60 MEM OTRS OF
under King James, it never made me swerve from
the principles of a true Church-of-England man,
always opposing, in my station, his encroachments
upon our religion and liberty. The king, resolving
to take off the penal laws and test, thought the
best way to accomplish his design was, to interro-
gate persons in employment, in town and country,
if they would comply with his desire? My Lord
Craven, Lord Lieutenant of Middlesex, came to
my house to question me; but being at that time
from home, I withdrew into the country for a
month, to avoid the question. My Lord con-
stantly visited my house to know when I would
return, so that it was impossible to escape being
interrogated, therefore I came to town again, and
sent his lordship word, I would wait upon him,
when and where he pleased to appoint. He told
the messenger he would come to me the next day,
which he did by nine of the clock in the morning.
As soon as he saw me, he proposed my endeavour-
ing to take off the penal laws and test. I answered,
“I was sorry any thing should be required of me
by his majesty, that I could not comply with in
conscience, and that I was not in a capacity to do
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ., 61
it, if I would.” He replied, “You may chance to
be in such a station as may make you able.” I
understood his lordship's meaning, and desired
him to represent me as a faithfull subject to his
majesty, who would not promise, and then fail in
the performance; but to be an instrument to that
purpose, was to be false to myself and my religion,
and therefore desired to be under no such obliga-
tion. Afterwards, at the Quarter Sessions, I
opposed the popish justices their making a papist
Keeper of Bridewell, and their turning out the
Keeper of the Gate-house prison, in order to put
in one of their own religion; for which, I was
turned out of the commission of the peace. Then
I began to fear I should have the same fate in the
Alienation office, which made me part with it to
Mr. George Morley, who was as well pleased to
have it, as I was to leave it, for seven hundred
pounds.
Though my conscience would not let me serve
the king in his way, I was as faithfull to him as
any subject he had : but now he had carried
things so high, that the great men of the nation
began to call to the Prince of Orange for help,
62 MEM OIRS OF
and every body's eyes were turned towards Hol-
land. I must confess I wished for his coming, on
those terms he proposed in his declaration, which
was brought to me by Mr. Thomas Paston, in the
night : the next day, the person who delivered it
to him was apprehended, and sent to Newgate.
I was extreamly apprehensive of what might be
the consequence of my receiving a declaration
from such an hand ; for I well knew, if he was
discovered, there was great danger of his confess-
ing to whom he delivered such papers: therefore
I burnt mine, and went to Mr. Paston to make
him sensible of his danger, advising him to with-
draw till things were settled, which he did in a few
days; but the king issued a general pardon, which
quieted me much better. Upon the Prince's land-
ing, I was put into the Commission of the Peace
again, and acted all the while the revolution was
perfecting, which I shall not meddle with any
farther than it concerned my private affairs.
When King James was withdrawn, the Prince of
Orange took on him the government, but did not
alter the ministry, till the convention had pre-
sented him with the crown ; then, in order to his
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 63
coronation, he chose a new set of ministers, and
my Lord Delamerr was made Chancellour of the
Exchequer. His brother, Mr. Booth, was his
secretary. I was not much troubled at my loss,
but thanked God I had enjoyed the place so long.
Mr. Booth was scarce warm in his new office,
before he cast his eyes on the house I lived in,
which he thought looked like a perquisite of his
place ; though he endeavoured to disposess me of
it with all the violence imaginable, I continued in
it, till the Lords of the Treasury inched me out of
it, by erecting several new offices in it successively.
The king in a short time called a new parliament,
and the people, being pleased with this new trade
of king-making, which had not been exercised in
several ages before, chose most, or all of the king-
smiths again for their representatives, who were
resolved to make all approve of what they had
done, by taking an oath of allegiance to King
William and Queen Mary, or to punish the re-
fusers severely. I must confess I was not fully
satisfied at first with their proceedings, consider-
ing how lately we were engaged to King James;
but upon due consideration I took it, and I hope
64 MEMOIRs of
safely, for, if I had been under no engagement, I
resolved to submit. -
This year, my wife was delivered of another
daughter, named Elizabeth, who lived not above
three weeks.
Though the Convention thought nothing too
hard for them, and exerted the power of a Par-
liament, the ensuing house of Commons, were not
so fully convinced of the validity of their acts, but
that they believed it necessary to confirm them by
one of their own this session. Whilst the Par-
liament was taken up within doors in entering
into a war with France, and to supply what was
necessary for its vigorous prosecution, a great
many of the members were not so busy in foreign
affairs, but they could find time to hawke for
preferment at home, making a strict enquiry by
what tenure, every one in employment held his
place. But to finish all at one blow, there was a
bill brought into the house of Lords to make all
officers swear, that they never directly, or indi-
rectly gave any thing for their places, and this
shamefull proceeding was abetted by two great
Lords; but the little agents quarrelling about
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 65
their villainous contrivance, one of them, I believe,
told it first to me; which I discovered to the most
considerable officers in Westminster Hall, upon
which, we desired to be heard against the bill, at
the barr of the house of Lords, which was granted.
When the matter of the bill was fully opened to
the house, the bill proved abortive, and we were
freed from that impending mischief. I had com-
tinued trouble from the Chancellors of the Ex-
chequer who succeeded Sir John Ernle, but I
made a shift, by God’s help, to get out of them
all. They not being considerable enough to be
inserted here, I shall omit them, and proceed to
the great year of grief and sorrow.
In 1691 my wife was delivered of a dead child,
but I could not find by the skillfull, she received
much prejudice, though she took physick to pre-
vent any inconvenience it might occasion, so that
in the long vacation, we went as usual to my aunt
Collins, her house in Hantshire, where she con-
tinued very well till after Christmas. One night
in February she was violently tormented in her
bowels, which she thought the cholick, but in the
morning she miscarried, which weakened her
66 M EMI () IRS () F
extreamly, but in three weeks time she was pretty
well recovered, and came out of her chamber.
She was quickly forced back by a real fit of the
cholick, which continued for some time, and
brought her almost to the grave. I had, as I
thought, by God's mercy, and the physician's
care, preserved her out of all danger, and we pre-
pared to return home with our family. She had
been several times abroad at church, and visiting
her friends. On the eleventh day of April, 1692,
whilst she was dressing, she was struck with an
apoplexy, and died the next day, never coming
perfectly to herself, after she was first seized.
Whilst I was under this unspeakable calamity, I
had nobody to take care of her funeral, but was
forced to do it myself, as well as so great sorrow
would permit. She was carried into Wiltshire, to
be buried in Blunsden church,” in the parish of
* The parish of Broad Blunsden, or rather Blunsdon, (possibly
from blin man Ang. Sax. to cease, and duº, a hill, or downs,
which derivation would accurately mark its position, overlooking
the valley of the Thames,) is a large chapelry, containing some
seven hundred or eight hundred inhabitants, about three miles
west of Highworth, its mother Church.
About a quarter of a mile east of the chapel, which is a meat,
though somewhat neglected building in the Perpendicular Style,
with a square tower, surmounted by a parapet of open quatrefoils,
are the remains of Sir John Ernle's mansion, now occupied as a
farm house, and possessing few vestiges of its former state, beyond
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 67
Highworth, in her mother’s (my Lady Ernle's)
grave, where I desire to lie by her. It is needless
to endeavour to paint the affliction, which is not
to be described, especially for those who were
witnesses of it, who will be the chief perusers of
these memoirs. The scene of my ensuing life,
particularly the immediate two years following, is
so dismal that it will be expedient to let down the
curtain for me, and for the reader, for it will pre-
sent him with nothing to delight his, but what
will continually draw tears from my eyes. That
part of my life is so full of disturbance, that I
cannot be persuaded to travel it over again. There
is no pleasure in continual warding off calumny,
neither would I accuse persons so nearly related
to my dear wife, though I cannot call them friends.
I have ever since in a great measure withdrawn
the still existing terraces of its garden. It lies in a high, cold
situation, just beneath an ancient encampment, from whence its
name of Berry town, or Berry Blunsdon ( Bearw, or Bearow, Ang.
Sax. a barrow, or height) is probably derived.
The editor may be excused from mentioning a subject so purely
personal, as his surprise in finding Mr. Potenger's monument in
his church, when appointed some few years since, to the curacy
of Blunsdon, the very name of which place he had never heard
before. Perhaps the connection of his ancestor with the scene of
his earlier ministerial employments, and with a neighbourhood
where, though he came as a stranger, he still can reckon severai
kind friends, may have given him an additional, and prejudiced
interest in these memoirs.
68 MEMOIRS OF
myself from the world, and intend all the remain-
ing part of my days to have as little to do with it
as I can. I have deceived my private melancholy
hours in composing several things, as I hope, for
the good of myself, and my descendants. I cannot
tell with what eye they may look upon my com-
positions, but the most ingenious, and learned
supervisors, of my acquaintance have testified
under their hands, a great value for them ; neither
can I believe they are unworthy their due perusal,
and carefull preserving them. I do not speak this
out of vain glory, but to excite those for whose use
I writ them, to read them over frequently. I have
perfixed Dr. South's letter to me, after he had
read them, on purpose to make them esteemed by
those, who perhaps else would not value them
being mine. For some people esteem others
according to their skill in an ox or sheep, or their
understanding the price of an oak or an ash, and
such important affairs of this life; but wit and
morality, nay and divinity too, are looked on as
the insignificant study of the melancholly recluse.
My care has been not to let the course of this
world interfere with my concern for the next, to
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 69
which God in mercy, if he thinks fit, I hope will
bring me without great pains, but with a hearty
contrition. And when I am laid in my grave, I
humbly implore His protection for all mine, and
my dear wife's descendants, and that we may so
end our lives here, that we may joyfully meet in
heaven above, where we shall never endure the
pangs of a second separation.
So end the records of this man’s life, whom the
laborious Historian of Dorsetshire, will not be
thought to have unworthily characterized, as “a
gentleman of much integrity, knowledge and
piety.” His only surviving daughter, Philadelphia,
was married in 1695, three years after her
mother's death, to Richard Bingham, Esq., of
Bingham's Melcombe; and it was in the “invio-
lable quietness” of this place, that he found a
refuge from the family disturbances, whatever
they might be, of which he speaks in the latter
part of the memoir. His old age seems to have
been principally dedicated to those religious, and
FI
70 MEMOIRS OIF
literary pursuits, to which he there also refers
with so much complacency : and, as will have
been gathered from the letter of counsel at the
beginning of this book, he took a lively interest
in superintending the studies, and forming the
character, of his grandsons. -
It pleased the Almighty to lengthen out “the
days of the years of his pilgrimage” far beyond
the ordinary term of human existence. His death
took place, December 18th, A. D. 1733, in his
eighty-seventh year. He was buried, in accord-
ance with the desire above expressed, in the
church of Broad Blunsdon, in the parish of High-
worth, county Wilts, and on his monument, in the
body of it, is the following inscription :-
JOH ANN IS POTENGER
ET PHILADELPHIAE UXORIS MERITO CHARISSIMAF,
I LJ, AM FILIAM JOHANNIS ERNLE EQUITIS AURATI
ET SCACCI ARII CAN CELLA QII
IMPROVISA VIS LETHI RAPU IT
12. DIE APRILIS,
$ Dom INI 1692.
ANNO
\ ATATIs 38.
If, LE DIU, SUPERSTES OCCUB UIT
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ.
7
}
18 DIE DECEMBR1s,
ANNO }. 1733.
AETATIs 87.
IN NEGOTIIS PUBLICIS PROBUS,
IN OTIO PI US,
ERGA suos BENEFICENTIA
#: R G A PAUPERIES LIBERALITATE VERSAT US .
LITERARU M H U MAN ARU. M.
AD EXTREMUM USQUE CULTOR :
}HIC J U ×TA UXO RIS DILECTISSIM AB, CINE RE8
CORPUS SU U M SEPE LIRI VOLUIT.e
HONORIS ET PIETATIS ERGO HOC MA IN MOR.
POSUIT RICHARDUS BINGHAM, ARM.
DEFUNCTORUM EX UNICA FILIA NEPOS,
There is something quaint and striking in the
very intelligible complaint he makes, that his
literary productions met with but little favour
amongst the Dorsetshire Squirearchy of that day:*
* Butler, whose finished, but painful portrait of a Knight of
the seventeenth century, is so well known and appreciated, has
left us a less notorious sketch of its “Bumpkin, or Country Squire,”
whose features are by no means engaging :-
He “is a clown of rank and degree—the custom of being the
best man in his own territories, has made him the worst every.
72 MEMOIRS OF
whose tastes and habits, are likely to have been
anything but congenial with one, whose former
life had been spent upon so different a stage, and
who had played so long a subordinate, but busy
part, in the society of courtiers, and scholars, and
statesmen. In spite of the solemnity with which
he commends to the care, and custody of his
descendants, these compositions, which, albeit
“caviare to the general,” still met with a chosen
few to vindicate his own evident partiality for
the offspring of his old age, I fear I must plead
guilty on the part of my family, to a negligence
and breach of trust, which I cannot but most
unaffectedly regret, since the two short pieces
which are here published, are the only ones whose
present existence I have been able to discover or
to trace. The last account I can find of any
others, is a statement made by a member of the
family in 1804, that, “many of his manuscripts
never published,” were in his possession; but I have
every reason to believe they are now irrecoverably
lost. Neither is Dr. South’s letter, spoken of in
where else. The chief points he treats of are, the memoirs of his
dogs and horses, which he repeats as often as a Holder-forth, that
has but two sermons; to which, if he adds the history of his hawks
and fishing, he is very painful and laborious. The top of his
entertainment, is horrible strong beer.” &c., &c.
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 73
the text as “perfixed” to these compositions,
anywhere discoverable in its original state. In
“Nichols's Select Collection of Poems,” however,
Vol. I. p. 213. there is an Ode of Horace, trans-
lated by Mr. Potenger, and the note upon it, Vol.
8. p. 285. is a fuller account of his life, partly
taken from the present memoir, than exists to my
knowledge elsewhere, in which two commendatory
epistles from Dr. South are given. I may add,
that my own limited means of research, have
never given me a sight of the published works
here mentioned. The latter part of Nichols's
note, I extract entire :—
“Mr. Potenger also published “A Pastoral Reflection on
Death,’ a poem in 1691, and “The Life of Agricola,’ from
Tacitus, and perhaps other select pieces; but the far greater
part of his works, consisting of poems, epistles, translations,
and discourses both in prose and verse, was reserved only
for the entertainment of his private friends, who yet impor-
tuned him to make them public. Two original letters from
Dr. South are here subjoined:—
March 21, 1711–12.
SIR,
I do here at length return you your ingenious
discourses, having perused them with more pleasure, I
conseqmently conceived for them a greater value, than per-
74 MEMOIRS OF
haps your modesty will allow me to express. I find you
full furnished with the noblest ingredients that can reccom-
mend or set off any writing, viz. many happy and uncommon
strokes of wit, true piety, and morality, and a deep ex-
perience of the most important concerns of life; so that
upon the whole matter, I wish they were made publick,
and that for the sake of the publick, for, besides the credit
and honour, which they must needs imprint and leave upon
your name and memory, they will be a constant entertain-
ment to the minds of such readers, as are but able to taste
and relish, and duly admire them, under those characters,
which, by so just an estimate, have been passed upon them
by, Sir,
Your very humble servant,
RoBERT SouTH.
For the worthy Mr. Potenger, &c.
May 25, 1714.
WoRTHY SIR,
Having had the satisfaction of a further
perusal of your excellent verses upon the Rev. Dr. Turner,”
(which I cannot sufficiently thank you for,) and supposing
them (as in reason I ought) rather lent than given me, I
doe here, with all due acknowledgement, return them to
their ingenious author, in hopes that the world will shortly
* Dr. Thomas Turner, no doubt, President from 1688, to 1714,
and sole founder of the New Buildings, of Corpus-Christi-College,
Oxford.
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 75
be made happy, in the sight of this, and many more such
pieces from the same masterly hand, as well as,
Worthy Sir,
Your very humble and obliged servant,
R. S.
For his worthy friend, J. Potenger Esq.,
in Dean's Yard.”
The specimen of his poetical powers, which has
been embalmed among the fugitive pieces, too
many of them not worth the catching—of that
day, is the following translation of Horace, Book
2. Ode 14.
“Ah friend, the posting years how fast they fly!
Nor can the strictest piety,
Defer encroaching age,
Or death's resistless rage.
If you each day
A hecatomb of bulls should slay,
The smoking host could not subdue,
The tyrant to be kind to you.
From Geryon's head he smatched the triple crown,
Into th’ infernal lake the monarch tumbled down;
The prince, and peasant of this world must be,
Thus wafted to eternity.
76 MEMOIRS OF
“In vain from bloody wars are mortals free,
Or the rough storms of the tempestuous sea,
In vain they take such care
To shield their bodies from th’ autumnal air;
Dismal Cocytus they must ferry o’er
Whose languid stream moves dully by the shore,
And in their passage they shall see
Of tortured Ghosts the varied misery.
“Thy stately house, thy pleasing wife,
And children, blessings dear as life,
Must all be left; nor shalt thou have,
Of all thy graceful plants, one tree
Unless thy dismal Cypress follow thee,
The short-lived lord of all, to thy cold grave.
But the imprison'd Burgundy
Thy jolly heir shall straight set free;
Released from lock and key, the sparkling wine
Shall flow, and make the drunken pavement shine.”
This is followed by a translation of Odes 13. and
7. of Book 4., and Ode 10. of Book 2.—the 18th
Epode of the 1st Book, and then Ode 3. of Book
2. translated by Atterbury, but whether the inter-
mediate ones are Mr. Potenger's is not clear, and
the reader will have been already satisfied, I think,
that he forms no exception to the general failure
JOHN POTENGER, ESQ. 77
to diffuse the “happy audacity” of Horace, into
our feebler, and more disjointed tongue.
Perhaps I cannot more aptly close this short,
supplementary account, than by mentioning the
only act of his latter years, of which any memorial
remains—that he presented to the church at Mel-
combe, “a very handsome silver flaggon for the
communion,” on which his arms” and name are
engraved, with the date 1732, the year preceeding
his death. His daughter, Mrs. Philadelphia Bing-
ham also presented a silver plate for the same use.
We may humbly hope that his final prayer was
not unheard, and that they have “joyfully met in
heaven above,” through the merits of Him, whom
they forgot not to honour of their abundance,
the Lord Jesus Christ.
• A Bend indented, party Argent and Sable—Field Or, 3 Fleur-de-lys semé,
Sable.—Field Sable dexter base, 3 Fleur-de-lys semé Or.
APPENDIX (A.)
CoMPTRolleR of the Pipe.—(Wide p. 39.)—Lord Coke
says (4 Inst. 106) “of so great regard is the right use of
the Pipe, as there is a comptroller, which no other office in
this court hath. And the Chancellor of the Exchequer is
the Controller of the Pipe.”
It would appear however from the following documents,
that latterly the Chancellor of the Exchequer has appointed
to the office, instead of holding it himself.
Returns from the Court of Exchequer extracted from
the report of the select committee on finance, 1798. An
account of the office of Comptroller of the Pipe in the
Court of Exchequer


Net Receipts
- r By whom Duration annual
IRank. Name. appointed. of on an average
Interest. of 3 years.
The Comp- The late right|The Chancellor. During just £171.
troller of the Hon., the Earl of demeanour in
Pipe may be of Orford, de-the Exchequer, his office.
termed the ceased. (Hor-
second officer | ace Walpole.)
in the Pipe -
Office.
Duty. “The deputy Comptroller of the Pipe, makes a
comptrollment or Chancellor's roll once a year from the
80
great roll of the Pipe : he sends out summonses from
the said great roll, twice every year, to the Sheriffs of
every county, for levying the rents, farms, and debts,
within their respective counties; he also sends out sum-
monses from the said great roll once a year, to the sheriffs
of every city and town, for the levying the like within
their respective jurisdictions; he also enters the whole
accounts of all the said sheriffs on the comptrollment-
roll; he also enters on the said roll, the issues and taxes
which remain on the accounts of the receivers-general of
the several aids and taxes granted by act-of-parliament, and
sends the same in summonses from the great roll of the
pipe, to the several sheriffs to levy the same; he also enters
on the comptrollment-roll the several discharges made on
the great roll of the pipe, and takes the same out of the
summonses: he also attends the apposal of every sheriff
before the cursitor barom, and makes the award on the
comptrollment-roll, according to the sheriffs' answers, and
he also attends the Court of Exchequer on the discharge or
casting out of every sheriff, with the states of their ac-
counts delivered to him by the attorneys of the pipe office.”
In 1818 the office of Comptroller of the Pipe was held by
John Jekyll, Esq., and that of deputy Comptroller, by
Thomas Farrar, Esq.
By 3. and 4. W. 4. c. 99. S. 41. the offices of “clerk of
the pipe,” deputy clerk of the pipe, controller, and deputy
controller of the pipe, secondaries, attorneys, or sworn and
other clerks, and bag-bearer in this office of pipe, were,
amongst other offices, abolished. O si sic omnia /
81
Gº,
“The conjcctures respecting the origin of the name of
pipe,” I learn from a respectable authority “are scarcely
descrving of notice. One conjecture is, that the rolls arc
so called, because in form they resemble pipes: another,
that they were transmitted through a certain pipe, from one
room of the Exchequer to another. It may be considered
as an undecided question.”
I may add that the balance of probabilities seems to be
in favour of the latter hypothesis.
APPENDIX (B.)
THE ſamily of Ernle derives its name from the village of
Ernley, or Ernle, in the Rape of Chichester, County Sussex,
where Richard de Ernle was seated, temp. Hen. III. His
second son John de E. knight of the shire for Sussex, in
1331, married Isabel, daughter and heir of his uncle, Wil-
liam de E., widow of Fulco Paulin, and acquired with her
in dower, the manor of Ernle, &c.
From these ancestors was lineally descended Sir John
Ernle, Chancellor of the Exchequer, &c., so often referred
to in these memoirs, the father of Mrs. Potenger.
Various branches of this ancient and respectable family,
are now represented by its descendants through the female
lime, the families of Drax of Charborough, Sir Francis Bur-
dett, and Warriner: and the direct line, also through a female
82
heir, by Sir James Kyrle Money, Bart., of Much Marcle, in
Herefordshire, of Whetham in Wiltshire, &c., to whose
nephew, James Stoughton Money, Esq., F.S.A., the antiqui-
ties of his race are already indebted for a correct, and laborious
illustration in Burke’s “History of the Landed Gentry,”
Vol. 3. p. 615. ; and who, it is hoped, will fulfil his purpose
of publishing in another place and form, many interesting
documents connected with it, of which he is in possession.
Principally through his kind assistance, I am enabled to
offer to those curious in such matters, an abstract from two
or three pedigrees, which will perhaps most compendiously
explain the double connection with my own family, as well
as many of the allusions made in the text. I have prefixed
to the names of those mentioned more than once, marks of
reference, which will I trust sufficiently distinguish them.

[lsT.]
William Wither, Esq. of Many-down, co. -: Susanna, daughter of Paul Risley, Esq.
Hants, bapt. 1589.
Amongst other children –
1,–Dorothy = William Collins, Esq. of Cor- 2.—Ann = Rev. J. Pottinger, D. D. of Sadler's,
hampton, co. Hants. (vide Essex. Father of Mr. Potenger.
p. 51. &c.)
3.—Mary = + Michael Ernle, Esq. of Brimslade
Park, co. Wilts. (videsp. 34.)
[2ND.]
Sir Arthur Hopton, Knt. of Witham Abbey, = Rachel, daughter of Edmund Hall Esq., of
co. Somerset. | Gretford, co. Lincoln.
| Robert. Sir Arthur, Lady Bacon Jane = Richard Philadel- = [John
| and Lady Smith ob. 1635. Bingham. phia | Ernle.
| Lord Hopton, several other Lady Morton ob. 1656. Tº Sir John=TSusanna T.
Charles 1st’s. sons, #. #. | Strode =Cecilia, dr. Ernle. Howe.
General. #. flºate Bingham of T. Chap- || Philadel- = JoHN |
Mrs. Cole born 1621. man, Esq. phia. Potenger,
Mrs. Thomas of ºwn, Esq.
Somerset.
Richard Bingham, = Philadelphia Potenger,
ob. 1735, oet. 69. ob. 1757, aet. 79.

[3RD.]
1st. Mary, only daugh--Michael Ernle, Esq., of =2nd. Susan, daughter and co-heir of Sir William
ter of Roger Finnamore Bourton, Sheriff of Hungerford, Knt., of Farley Castle, co. Somerset.
Esq. of Whetham, co, | Wilts, 22 Eliz.
Wilts.
| Inter alios, Cecilia = William Daniel, Esq. | | Edward of Echilhampton= Gertrude, daughter of
(vide page 357) co. Wilts, bapt. 1587. John St. Lowe, Esq., of
Sir John of Wetham, =Margt., daughter and co- Knighton co. Wilts.
bapt. 1561. heir of Thomas Haydock, | 1. Sir Walter, his heir.
Esq. of Bury-town, co. 2. t Michael of Brimslade.
Wilts.
| 1. j. John of Wetham, = Philadelphia, daughter 2. Sir Michael, vide
bapt. I598. of Sir A. Hopton, ob. Clarendon’s Rebellion,
| I678. Vol. II. p.593. (Edit. 8vo.
1731.)
| 1st. Susanna, third dr.-- * Sir John, ob. 1697, - 2nd. Elizabeth, Baroness |
of John Howe, Esq. of oet. 79. Seymour, of Trowbridge,
Compton, in the parish (vide p. 45, and note.)
of Withington, co. Glos-
ter, (born 1626, ob. 1669.)
j Sir John. his heir. |
1. Dorothy, (vide page 39, &c.)
2. Susan, = Sir Henry Robinson,
(vide page 44, 46, &c.) of Northants, Knt.
3. Philadelphia = JoHN POTENGER, ESQ.
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