Stories of the Rev. Patten have lasted over 200 years thanks to another resident of Whitstable at that time, Francis Grose. The year 1801 refers to a known published date but the piece would have been written within the period 1750 – 1790.
BIOGRAPHICAL ANECDOTES OF THE LATE PARSON PATTEN
BY FRANCIS GROSE FRS
The Rev. Mr. Patten, curate of Whitstable, was of a very singular character: he had originally been a sea chaplain, and contracted much of the tar like roughness; he was of an athletic make, and had some wit and humour, not restrained by any very strict ideas of professional propriety He was for many years curate of Whitstable at a very small stipend, and used to travel to serve that, and another church, in a butcher’s cart.
Whitstable is situated by the sea-side and is extremely agueish; so that had he been dismissed, it would not have been very easy for the Archbishop of Canterbury (who was the rector) to have procured another curate at the same price. This he well knew, and presuming on it, was a terror to every new archbishop.
Mr Patten was not a rigid high priest: he openly kept a mistress; and on any one going into church in sermon time, and shewing him a lemon, he would instantly conclude his discourse and adjourn to the alehouse. He used to call the prebendaries of Canterbury, cardinals, and all the young fellows of his acquaintance who came over to Whitstable, his nephews.
When Dr Wake was archbishop, some talebearer informed his grace that Patten had given a marriage certificate, which he had signed by the title of Bishop of Whitstable! At his next visitation the archbishop sternly asked Mr Patten whether that report was true. To which Patten replied I shall answer your grace’s question by another – “are you fool enough to take notice of it?”
When Dr Seeker was enthroned, or soon after, he gave a charge to his clergy, and among other articles found great fault with the scanty allowance frequently paid to curates. Patten who was there, (though not summoned, the bishop fearful of some of his remarks, having ordered the proctor to leave him out of the list,) got up, and bowing to the archbishop, said with a loud voice, “I thank your grace.” After the charge was over, the proctor by mistake called the Rev. Mr Patten, who, bustling through the crowd, came up to the archbishop; he seeing he could not avoid it, began with the usual question, “You are, Sir, I think, curate of Whitstable?” To which Patten replied, “I am, may it please your grace, and have for it received from your grace’s predecessors the paltry sum of thirty pounds per annum only, although the living brings in above three hundred!” “Don t enlarge,” said the archbishop. “No, but I hope your grace will,” rejoined Mr Patten.
The following story, of Parson Patten laying a ghost, I had from his own mouth.
A substantial farmer, married to a second wife, and who had a son grown up to man’s estate, frequently promised to take him in as a partner in his farm, or at least to leave it to him at his decease; but having neglected to do either, on his death, his widow took possession of the lease and carried on the business the son in vain urging the father’s promise, and requesting she would at least take him as a partner. In order to terrify his mother into a compliance, he used to rise at midnight and with hideous groans to drag the waggon-chain about the yard and outhouses, circulating a report that this noise was occasioned by his father’s ghost and that he would not rest quietly in his grave till his promise to his son was completed.
This was carried on for some time, till at length the widow, who had no relish for giving up any part of the farm, plied to Mr Patten (in whose parish the farm lay) for his advice, saying she would have the ghost laid in the Red Sea, if he could do it. Patten, though no believer in ghosts, resolved to turn this matter to his own advantage, and putting on a grave countenance, told her that what she required was no small matter: that to lay a ghost, besides a good stock of courage, required much learning as the whole form must necessarily be pronounced in Latin; wherefore he could not afford to do it under a guinea. The widow hereupon demurred for some time; but at length, tired out with the freaks of the supposed ghost, who every day became more and more outrageous, agreed to give it. Patten, moreover, required a fire in the best parlour, two candles and a large bowl of punch. These being all prepared the parson took his post, expecting the ghost. The farmer’s son, who did not know the sort of man he had to deal with, thought he could frighten the parson, and accordingly at twelve began his perambulation. No sooner did Patten hear his chain and groans than he sallied forth, and without any far ther ceremony seized the supposed ghost by the collar, belabouring him at the same time heartily with a good oak sapling. The young farmer, finding himself by no means a match for his opponent, fell on his knees, and confessed the contrivance, beseeching the parsun at the same time not to expose him, nor reveal it to his mother-in-law who would have been glad of the pretence to turn him out of the house. The parson, on the young man’s promise never to disturb the house again, let him go, and undertook to settle matters with his mother-in-law.
Early next morning she came down, anxious to know what had passed the preceding night, with the parson with a well counterfeited-terror in his countenance, told her he had been engaged in a terrible conflict, the deceased being one of the most obstinate and fierce spirits he had ever met with; but that he had at length, with great difficulty and expence of Latin, laid him. Poor wicked soul! (says he) I forgive him, though great part of his disquiet is owing to thirty shillings, for tythes, of which he defrauded me, but which he desired, nay, commanded, you should pay, and on that condition only he has agreed to trouble the house no more; he does not insist on your completing his promise to your son, but wishes you would at least let him have a share in the farm. To this the woman assented; and the parson received the thirty shillings over and above the stipulated guinea. The woman likewise admitted her son-in-law joint partner with her in the lease.
Among the good qualities the Rev Mr Patten had to boast of, that of a good paymaster was not included: on the contrary, fame spoke so unfavorably of him respecting this article that none of the Canterbury tradesmen would let him have a single article of goods without first depositing the ready money for it. Under this predicament his wig had long passed through the medium of strait hair to the state of curling negatively or inwards, or in plain terms, was reduced to the condition of being only fit for a scare crow: but how to get another was the difficulty – he had not the money, and Christian faith was wanting.
In this situation, he accidentally heard of a new peruke-maker from London, who had lately settled in the High-street. To him he went a little before dinner time and bepoke a full cauliflower wig. The barber, struck with the reverend appearance of his new customer (whose character had not reached his ears), gladly undertook to furnish him; and his dinner being ready, he respectfully begged the honor of the doctor’s company to partake of it, and afterwards introduced a large bowl of punch. Patten ate and drank heartily, and got into great good humour. When the bowl was out, the barber would have proceeded to business, and produced his measures; but Patten cut him short, and greatly surprised him by saying, “he need not trouble himself to measure him, he would get his wig elsewhere.” The barber, fearing he had taken offence at something that had passed at table, humbly begged pardon if he had been wanting in respect, protesting it was unintentional, and contrary to his meaning. “No, no, Sir,” answered Patten, “it is nothing of that: look you, you are an honest generous fellow; it would be a pity to take you in. I should never have paid you for your wig, I will therefore get it elsewhere.”
A neighbouring clergyman, who pretended to great skill in the Hebrew and Oriental languages’ shewed Patten his study’ in which were books in almost every language. “And pray, brother, said Patten, “do you understand all those different tongues?” On being answered in the affirmative, “One would think,” rejoined he, “that you had got your head broken with a brick from the tower of Babel.”
Patten long refused to read the Athanasian creed. The archdeacon reproving him for that omission, told him, his grace the archbishop read it. “That may be,” answered Patten, “perhaps he may believe it, but I don t; he believes at the rate of seven thousand per annum; I at that of less than fifty.”
Patten, in his last sickness, was in great distress, which Dr Seeker hearing, sent him ten guineas by the archdeacon; to whom he made the following acknowledgment: “Thank his grace most heartily, and tell him; now I know he is a man of God, for I have seen his good angels.”
