University of Virginia Library

Greek Tragedy with a Happy Ending: The Publication of Robert Potter's Translations of Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles
by
David Stoker

The middle years of the eighteenth century saw the decline of the system of literary patronage and the emergence of authorship as a full-time profession. However, patronage did not die overnight, and throughout the eighteenth century there were plenty of authors whose works of scholarship could not command substantial sums from the booksellers, and indeed might never have been published on a commercial basis. Such writers continued to look to patrons for financial assistance either to supplement their limited incomes or else to underwrite the production costs of their works.

The various ways in which literary patronage operated, and on occasions failed to operate, in the later years of the eighteenth century are well illustrated by the career of Robert Potter. According to his draft autobiography in the National Library of Wales (Ms 125021, Wigfair 21) he was born in 1721 at Podimore in Somerset, the third son of a Prebendary of Wells Cathedral. For more than forty years he held various meagre livings, notably as the Curate of the village of Scarning in Norfolk, where he also ran a boarding school. Potter was also a poet, critic, and the translator of Greek drama, as

well as a writer of works of political and social commentary. He is now remembered primarily as a translator and critic rather than as a poet, but he had literary talents in several fields, which were only partly recognised by his contemporaries.[1] He was a witty and perceptive correspondent and conversationalist, displaying a lively interest in all aspects of contemporary literature, drama and the arts. According to the antiquary Craven Ord, he was "Narrow in his circumstances; with a disaggreable [sic] wife—he is rather an entertaining & well behaved gentleman, with some singularities of thinking" (B.L. Addl. Ms. 14823 fo.137).

Potter's abilities went largely unnoticed for the first fifty-seven years of his life. Then in 1777-78 he achieved fame among polite and educated society with his verse translation of the tragedies of Aeschylus, the first to have been undertaken into English. As a result of the critical acclaim awarded to this work, Potter was taken up by literary society in London and encouraged to undertake similar translations of the remaining Greek tragedians—Euripides and Sophocles. According to John Nichols (Literary Anecdotes, II.306) Potter was "a scholar of the old school; and nothing tempted him to relinquish divine and polite literature." He never expected to profit directly from his writings, yet much of this work was undertaken with the aim of seeking preferment within the church. Whilst he was ultimately successful in this objective, he had to wait more than a decade and suffer many disappointments before he reaped any reward for his considerable labours.

By the mid-1770s Robert Potter was perhaps beginning to feel that life had passed him by, and he had not been able to fulfil his early promise. He was midway through his sixth decade and had published a number of works at his own expense,[2] but without having achieved any great literary reputation, or advanced to any extent within his profession. In spite of holding several poor livings and the office of schoolmaster at the village of Scarning, his total income was always relatively small and barely kept pace with the living costs of a minor gentleman. Above all, it had not enabled him to amass any legacy for his children. Yet he could point to friends of his youth who, although from similar backgrounds, had fared much better in life. His school fellow Edward Thurlow, although ten years his junior, was then Attorney General, and would shortly become Lord Chancellor. Likewise Richard

Hurd, with whom he had studied at Emmanuel College, had since risen to become Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry.

In spite of his lack of financial success Potter continued to publish his own poetry, and had contributed to The new foundling hospital for wit (London, 1771). He also appears to have continued a particular interest in Greek drama, which he gained at school. In December 1773 he sent to the press an octavo edition of his collected Poems (London, 1774). This work reprinted most of his existing published verses but also included a blank verse translation of a chorus from the Hecuba of Euripides. It was published a few months later for a respectable number of subscribers. It also contained the important announcement that there was "preparing for the Press, by the same Author, a translation of the intire Tragedies of Euripides".

Greek drama had not been much read or appreciated in England during the first half of the eighteenth century. Although Pope's translation of Homer in particular had done much to popularize Greek narrative poetry among those who did not have a sufficient grasp of the language, until the second half of the century the dramatists had been largely overlooked.[3] There had been a prose translation of Sophocles by George Adams published in 1729, but this appears to have had very little impact on Hellenic studies. However, the appearance of Thomas Francklin's edition of the tragedies of Sophocles in 1758-59 did awaken public interest in the genre. A translation of Euripides was therefore the obvious next step for a classical scholar such as Potter who wished to establish a reputation. Whereas "in the early and mideighteenth century Sophocles was generally awarded the palm; later when sensibility took the place of good sense, the tender Euripides was preferred" (Clarke, 147).

Potter was not the only scholar whose interest in Euripides had been awakened. Writing to Elizabeth Montagu on 12 December 1782, he explained:

Potter may have been writing with the benefit of hindsight in his judgment that Aeschylus would be the more popular translation. According to Clarke (151), "Aeschylus was commonly regarded as a venerable monument of antiquity, one whose works were good in their day but were surpassed by the latter dramatists".

In the event Wodhull's translation of Euripides did not appear until

1782, and Harwood did not complete his version. Nevertheless Potter's limited free time over the next three years was spent translating the plays of Aeschylus into blank verse, which task was completed early in 1777, when he advertised for subscribers: The Tragedies of Aeschylus was to be a work on a far greater scale than any of his previous publications and required in the region of eighty printed sheets. As a relatively unknown author, he had to cover the cost of production for his own publication, but he did not have sufficient capital to finance a project on this scale. The number of copies printed is not known but is most unlikely to have been more than the six hundred ultimately subscribed for.

The author might have requested part payment from his subscribers in advance, but had he done so it is certain he would not have secured nearly so many promises. The whole system of taking subscriptions in advance had fallen into disrepute long before Potter's time. Instead, he chose to produce the work as cheaply as might be acceptable to his aristocratic subscribers. He did this by dealing directly with a local printer (John Crouse of Norwich, the proprietor of the Norfolk Chronicle newspaper) rather than entrusting the whole work to the supervision of a wholesale bookseller in London, such as James Dodsley. He also included only the translation together with a minimal introduction, without benefit of the usual commentary or scholarly apparatus.

Throughout 1777 the translator used all the influence he could muster and managed to gather a respectable number of subscribers for such a work. Bishop Hurd, Potter's friend from University, was appointed Preceptor to the Prince of Wales and his brother Prince Frederick in 1776. He appears to have used his influence in getting them to subscribe together with the Duchess of Cumberland. Yet in spite of the work's subsequent critical success, nearly one hundred of the copies which had been subscribed for through Dodsley were not in fact purchased and had to be disposed of separately over the next year (see below).

The Tragedies of Aeschylus was advertised in the Public Advertiser for 23 December 1777 and appears to have been an overnight success among educated society. In January 1778 Horace Walpole wrote to his friend the poet William Mason,

Soon afterwards it received a favourable review in the Gentleman's Magazine (XL, 34-35), and in March, James Harris, one of the first Britons to study Greek philosophy, and author of Hermes, wrote from the House of Commons, to congratulate the translator: "I have perused a large part of your fine translation of Aeschylus, and, had I been happy in knowing you before publication, I should have thought it an honour to have my name appear in your list of subscribers" (B.L. Addl. MS 4079 f.70). According to James Boswell, Potter's work was the topic of conversation between Harris, David Garrick, and Samuel Johnson on April 9 of that year (Life of Johnson [Oxford, 1969], 920-921). Harris defended the work, whilst Johnson described the little he had read as verbiage (a word not to be found in his dictionary), but he nevertheless agreed to read a play. Before he died in 1779, Garrick is also reputed to have wanted to stage Potter's unpublished translation of Euripides' Hecuba, and went to some expense in procuring costumes. However the plan had ultimately to be abandoned because of the cost of the accompanying Greek chorus (letter from Daniel Watson to John Carr, 2 April 1788, in John Nichols, Illustrations of literary history of the eighteenth century [1817-58], I.431).

In his short introduction to Aeschylus, Potter quoted several lines from an essay on Shakespeare, written by one of his subscribers, which he described as "the amiable candor of a fine writer". This compliment to Elizabeth Montagu, the rich and influential leader of society in London, was singularly well placed. As a result she befriended the poor country curate and introduced him to some of the most famous names of literary society. She also undertook to encourage and assist him in his future work.

Thus society's verdict on Potter's translation of Aeschylus was indeed favourable, and may perhaps be summed up by the opinion of the Scottish poet James Beattie, writing to Mrs Montagu 1st February 1779:

Nevertheless the publication as a whole was considered by Harris, Mrs Montagu and others to be flawed because of the lack of commentary and footnotes. Such elucidatory notes were then judged to be an essential appendage to such a work. As Harris suggested,

This point was also made in George Colman's otherwise favourable review of the work in the Monthly Review (LIX [1778], 286): "It were to have been wished also, that to the version of an author so difficult as Aeschylus, the Translator had subjoined copious notes, instead of penuriously stinting his readers to a meagre preface to the work, and spare introductions to each play".

Potter considered such detailed commentary to be an unnecessary fashion of 'polite literature' and had no particular wish to compile these notes, particularly as the work was now published.[6] However, when the bookseller Thomas Cadell added the additional incentive of purchasing the copyright of a second, annotated, edition of Aeschylus, Potter felt he could not easily refuse the requests he had received. He explained his position in letters written 13 March and 14 May 1778 to his friend Samuel Parr, Master of the Norwich Grammar School (John Johnstone ed., The works of Samuel Parr [1818], 227-228.)

It is remarkable that the author's sense of justice to his original subscribers demanded that he must therefore give away copies of the notes which were to be included in the second edition.

In a letter to Mrs Montagu on 4 April 1778, however, the author sought to take advantage of his new-found patron in more ways than one:

Mrs Montagu took one of the hints and supplied Potter with the reference works, but in a further letter a fortnight later she needed to be reminded of the great trouble and the additional cost to which she was subjecting her protégé.

By June eighty-five quarto pages of notes and commentary were completed without any decision being made as to their publication. One thing was clear, however: since the notes (and more particularly the notes to the notes) contained a substantial amount of Greek, it would not be possible for them to be entrusted to the original Norwich printer, John Crouse. Their publication and distribution to the original subscribers would therefore involve a printer in London or one of the University presses. Again he wrote to Elizabeth Montagu with a heavy hint:

On this occasion he was not disappointed, and Mrs Montagu agreed to pay the publication costs. He wrote to thank her and report upon progress, 14 July 1778: Potter informed his nephew John Conway Potter that by 19 August 1778 the University printers "are got forward as far as Agamemnon; they will be finished in a fortnight," (N.L.W. Ms. 12433, Wigfair 33D letter 1), but as usual with assurances from printers this was overly optimistic. By 5 October he had still not seen a copy, although he reported to Elizabeth Montagu that "Mr Dodsley will have a parcell this week" (Huntington Lib. MO 4159).

Both the original translation and the subsequent notes were reviewed in the Monthly Review (LIX [1778] 286, 486) by the dramatist and translator George Colman, but whereas the translation was commended, Potter was accused of having compiled the notes "with reluctance" and "too drily and stiffly", whilst occasionally debasing his style with "low expressions" and "familiar French phrases". However, far more fulsome tribute to the notes was forthcoming from his friend Samuel Parr.

Parr did however go on to censure his friend's use of his commentary to praise another Greek scholar, Richard Paul Jodrell, whom he rather described as "the pedant of Berners Street" and a "coxcomb". Jodrell was a London barrister and dramatist, then working on a scholarly commentary on the plays of Euripides. He appears to have befriended Potter after the publication of Aeschylus, and visited him briefly at Scarning in 1779.

Robert Potter, now aged fifty-seven, was at the high point of his literary career, and for the first time in his life was a sought-after member of society,

with a little spare money from the profits of the first edition and the sale of the copyright for the second octavo edition published by William Strahan and Thomas Cadell in 1779.[11] During the summer of 1778 he even took a brief holiday in London with his son: The trip also included invitations to literary assemblies, one of which included an introduction by Mrs Montagu to the famous Doctor Johnson whom Potter greatly admired. Unfortunately, Johnson was in one of his ungracious moods and publicly snubbed the poor curate, which humiliation was never thereafter forgotten (E. H. Barker, Literary anecdotes and contemporary reminiscences of Professor Porson and others [London, 1852], I.1-2).[13]

However Potter could not for long live on the intellectual capital and meagre profits of his translation of Aeschylus; he wished to consolidate his reputation as a classical scholar. Since nothing had been heard of the projected translations by Wodhull and Harwood since 1775, the obvious next step was a return to Euripides, a task already partially complete. As he explained to Elizabeth Montagu in a letter date 5 October 1778, "I have the deepest sense of your favours; the best return I can think of making you is by attending to Euripides with care, & expediting the translation as fast as I well can, though my servile employment leaves me but little leisure" (Huntington Lib. MO 4159).

Mrs Montagu was a useful friend to Potter, who helped him in many

ways, but she was not in a position to give him the one thing he most needed—long-term financial security. As she explained to James Beattie, "Mr Potter is now translating Euripides; and, if he succeed as well as in the other translation, the world will owe him a great deal; I heartily wish, that, in some shape, it would pay him part of the debt; he is a man of great merit, small preferment, and large family" (Forbes, An account of the life and writings of James Beattie [London, 1824], 269). This could only come from patronage within the church, and inevitably one of the main reasons for his undertaking this work was in the hope of thereby achieving some recognition. Thus, when the following February he was invited to interrupt work on Euripides in order to assist a man who was in a position to provide such patronage, he did not hesitate to do so, in spite of his previous promises to Mrs Montagu.

Potter's notes on Aeschylus had attracted the attention of Hans Stanley, a Privy Councillor and Member of Parliament for Southampton. Stanley was preparing his own translation of Pindar's Odes and wished to employ the curate to oversee the whole and prepare the necessary annotations.[14] Potter did not consider Stanley to be a man of great poetic talent, but the opportunity of making an influential friend was too good to turn down. Between February and August 1779 Potter and Stanley collaborated on the Pindar, whilst in June the former sought to assure Mrs Montagu that he was not neglecting Euripides:

The collaboration between Stanley and Potter was a success and the project was complete by September 1779; thus the following month the curate who had been overlooked for so many years confided his optimism about his future to his nephew: "I am flattered too with the expectation of being removed from Scarning, but do not too much rely upon the promises of the Great. I work very close upon Euripides, and have not stirred from home all this summer. One volume will be ready this winter" (N.L.W. Ms. 12433, Wigfair 33D letter 5). However in February of the next year he had to confess that his hopes and expectations had been dealt a major setback:

Stanley from time to time suffered from chronic depression, which appears to have been a family trait. For like his father before him, he took his own life by slitting his throat.[16] Potter had no choice but to return to Euripides, which task had been set back at least a year.

The next mention of the proposed edition of Euripides comes in a letter to his friend, the poet Edward Jerningham, on 30 November 1780, by which time he had finished the text of the first volume and was writing the preface (Huntington Lib. JE 683; Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 332-333). But more specific information was given in a letter to the artist George Romney, written on the Boxing Day following:

A similar letter was sent to Elizabeth Montagu in February 1781 asking for her help in finalizing the list and thanking some of her aristocratic friends who had been canvassing for subscriptions;

The Introduction was dated at Scarning, 2 April, 1781. On the same day Potter wrote a far less optimistic letter to Mrs Montagu. Having made his journey up to town, immediately before publication, he was feeling deeply humbled over the necessity of his being obsequious to such eminent subscribers:

Nevertheless, the publication of the first volume of Euripides was undoubtedly a success. The list of five hundred and eleven subscriptions was again headed by the Prince of Wales and his brother Prince Frederick, the Archbishops of Canterbury and Armagh (who subscribed for ten and six copies respectively), the Lord Chancellors of England and Ireland, several other Bishops and a large number of the nobility. Potter had also managed to secure the specific patronage of the Duchess of Beaufort, to whom the work was dedicated, and who subscribed for three copies.[18] Mrs Montagu subscribed for a further six copies. The largest single number of subscriptions however was fifteen copies in the name of Hans Stanley, which were presumably delivered to his executor.

Although the total number of subscriptions for Euripides was significantly less than for Aeschylus, this work nevertheless should have been the more profitable for Potter. Following the success of his first work, and his reputation as translator, Potter was now able to negotiate the sale of the copyright to the wholesale bookseller James Dodsley, and the agreement is preserved in the British Library (Egerton Ms. 2334 f.19). In lieu of money, he accepted five hundred and twenty-five copies of each volume delivered free of the cost of paper and printing. Thus, before publication he had secured the sale of virtually all his copies, for which he had only to meet the cost of binding. This was fine in theory, but in practice the binding costs had to be paid immediately, whereas the receipts from book sales might take many months to reach him. Thus the following March Potter was writing to his nephew, "I am sorry that the epidemical distemper has reached so far as Denbighshire, I mean the want of money; it rages here, I never was so poorly; since the first week in January I have not received a guinea; not one of my correspondents, who long ago received Euripidean money for me, will send me a shilling" (N.L.W. Ms. 12433, Wigfair 33D letter 14).

During the first three months of 1782 came the next major setback to Potter's career as a translator. The Euripides received an unusually long and

detailed review which appeared in the January and March issues of the Critical Review for that year (LIII. 17-28, and 169-173): Whilst allowing that the translation was "tolerably faithful" to the original, the anonymous reviewer attacked the work on the grounds of the lack of perspicuity and elegance: "The colouring is coarse and indelicate, without that grace and softness, that elegance and pathos, which so eminently distinguish the original. . . . This translation, as every reader who has any ear or taste cannot but observe, is too close and literal, and the lines consequently tame, ill-sounding, and prosaical".

The reviewer also criticised two fundamental principles adopted by Potter in his translation and explained in the preface. The first of these was his adherence to the convention of Athenian theatre, whereby "in the most interesting and important scenes the dialogue is often thus broken into single lines, each speaker confining himself to his line, sometimes for a long continuance. It is difficult to conceive what grace this amoebean recitative had on the Athenian stage, . . . yet the translator did not think himself at liberty to deviate from the manner of composition prescribed by his author".[19] Secondly the reviewer complained "that the work is very deficient in point of notes: a deficiency which the author has endeavoured in his preface, to apologize for, by observing that "Annotations are not properly the province of the translator.' [see preface, p. xv.] From which assertion we beg to differ". The review ended with the overall assessment that "the first volume of the Translation of Euripides by Mr Potter, is, we will venture to pronounce, upon the whole, a very indifferent performance".

In essence, this review disputed Potter's theory of translation and its function,[20] and although there was justice in some of the statements made, it was not perhaps necessary for them to be reiterated at such length. Undoubtedly Potter considered he had been most unfairly treated and that the

review stemmed rather from a personal animosity. He was sent copies of the issues of the Critical Review by his friend and neighbour John Fenn of East Dereham. On each occasion Potter wrote to thank him:

He also outlined his anger and suspicions in a letter to Edward Jerningham of 4 April 1782.

Potter thus considered the review to be the work of his erstwhile friend Richard Jodrell. He felt betrayed, since he had given his reviewer such fulsome praise in his notes on Aeschylus and had loaned him the translation of Euripides so that Jodrell might have benefit of it when preparing his own Illustrations of Euripides, the first volume of which was published in 1781.[21] However, when in 1786 Jodrell's play The Persian heroine, founded upon Herodotus, was rejected by Drury Lane and Covent Garden because the elucidatory notes occupied as much space as the text, Potter was mightily pleased (letter to Edward Jerningham April 1786 [Huntington Lib. JE 696 and Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 353-354]).

Another disappointment occurred in late 1782 with the appearance of Michael Wodhull's complete and long awaited, The nineteen tragedies and fragments of Euripides, in four volumes, before Potter could publish his second volume. Nevertheless Potter considered his own version to be the superior, as he explained to Elizabeth Montagu on 12 December 1782: "I have Mr Wodhull's translation; it will do me credit; he mentions me twice in his preface, once with slight civility, once (absit invidia dicto) with impertinence; twice in his notes he honours me with indirect censure; for which reason, and perhaps with some pride on my part, I have taken no notice of him; he deserves no compliment from me, and I am not of a disposition

to say any thing uncivil (Huntington Lib. MO 4164).[22] In the same letter he could report the completion of his own version:

Potter now considered that his career as a translator of Greek dramatists was at an end. He turned his attention rather to lyric poetry, where he hoped to combine his earlier experience with Pindar with an essay on contemporary poetry:

By the time the work appeared in May 1783 however, it had fundamentally changed in nature, perhaps due in part to the influence of Mrs Montagu, to a direct attack on Johnson's Lives of the Poets.[24]

With two completed translations of Greek dramatists under his belt, Potter's chief concern was in securing his future. He was now in his sixties and relatively famous and had many influential acquaintances. Yet in spite of the earnings from his two works (which never lived up to his expectations), he was still a relatively poor man whose income was largely tied to his "servile employment" as a school master. As he explained to his patroness in a letter of 1 July 1783, "I only wish for such an income as would enable me to make some little provision for my family: as a father it is my duty to endeavour this" (Huntington Lib. MO 4165).

Potter's correspondence over the next four years refers to a succession of abortive attempts to persuade his friends to use their influence in securing him some form of preferment. He might solicit the help of Mrs Montagu or Bishop Hurd, only to find his chances of promotion blocked elsewhere. A letter to Mrs Montagu of 22 March 1784 is typical of several from this period:

On occasions he became despondent about his plight, particularly when writing to his nephew: "I made an excursion to London; my business was partly to put my great and promising friends to the proof, whether they were in earnest in their professions; I am fully convinced of their insincerity" (N.L.W. Ms 12433, Wigfair 33D letter 21). Most letters to Jerningham show rather a bitter sense of humour, such as on 8 February 1787:

In any event he lost much of the will and impetus to push his claims forward following the death of his wife in July 1786.

In spite of his disappointments and tribulations, Potter's publishing activities did not cease with his attack on Johnson in 1783. In 1785 he published The Oracle concerning Babylon. And the Song of Exultation from Isaiah, Chap. XIII and XIV, "to revive my dormant name" (letter to Jerningham 17 April 1785 [Huntington Lib. JE 693 and Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 350]). This work had been offered to Dodsley to publish, but he refused Potter's terms (Huntington Lib. MO 4153). This small publication was nothing compared to his work with the Greek dramatists, and it was not long before

suggestions were being made that he should complete the trio of tragedies by undertaking a new translation of Sophocles. As he explained in a letter to Elizabeth Montagu of 17 March 1786,

The approach had come in the Spring of 1785, from Dr Charles Poyntz of North Creake in Norfolk, on behalf of Georgiana Dowager Countess Spencer, whom Potter had met when collaborating with Hans Stanley. Countess Spencer suggester that she might provide Potter with the necessary reference works to complete the translation and underwrite the publication costs. Potter considered the proposition for several months before agreeing. In December 1785 Poyntz supplied Potter with a copy of Thomas Johnson's edition of the collected plays of Sophocles in Greek and Latin (Sophoclis tragoedia, 3v [London: 1746]). In his letter of thanks, Potter committed himself to the new project:

In April 1786 Edward Jerningham chided his elderly friend for taking over another such large project when he had received so little benefit from the two previous translations. Potter replied in mock anger:

The translation of Sophocles was completed by the end of March 1787, but required revision and transcription, although Potter was not then in good health; "a disorder in my stomach has lately brought me within a near expectation of the long black box" (Huntington Lib. JE 699; Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 357). He had now to find a publisher for the work, for his relations with Dodsley had apparently become strained. This was perhaps the result of the large number of subscribers who had not taken the second volume of Euripides, blamed by Potter on the bookseller's mismanagement. In any event, Potter was still seeking some of his receipts from sales of Euripides from Dodsley as late as 1787. He therefore determined to find another bookseller.

Potter's good friend John Fenn was then dealing with the London wholesale booksellers George and John Robinson, who were publishing his edition of the Paston Letters.[27] It was presumably as a result of his recommendation that Potter made an approach. Because by 1 October 1787 agreement had still not been reached, Potter wrote to Jerningham to find another bookseller:

By mid November Potter reported to his nephew that Sophocles "is finished, and gone to the Devil (of the Press)". On this occasion he was a little more realistic over the likely profits however. "I am not yet certain that I shall get a shilling by it; but I am sure of not being a loser by it; . . . it is very probable that I have laboured very assiduously two years and six months for nothing but a little fame, which I value at just as much as in these days of taxation it is worth" (N.L.W. Ms. 12433, Wigfair 33D letter 26).

In spite of his earlier letter, Potter did eventually use George Robinson as the publisher, although not under his preferred terms. Presumably Dodsley's losses on the Euripides made Robinson wary of purchasing the copyright. As Potter explained to Charles Poyntz,

Further details of the publication were finalised the following month, when Potter also sought the advice of Dr Poyntz over the wording of his preface.

In the event, Potter's only reference to Franklin in his preface was that he had wished to leave him "in the undisturbed possession of his well-acquired reputation".

During December 1787 final details of the wording of the preface and dedication were agreed, and by the end of February the translator was able to report to his nephew that the work was all but complete:

In a letter to Edward Jerningham of 22 February, Potter claimed that "the new edition of Dr Franklin's translation hastens the publication", and five weeks later he was announcing that "Sophocles comes flying all abroad on Monday next. . . . My great object, and great interest is to sell this impression, that I may dispose of the copy right to some advantage; therefore he serves me best, who assists me most in expediting the sale" (Huntington Lib. JE 702/3; Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 361).

Potter's The tragedies of Sophocles translated (1788) was reasonably well received, although subject to the usual criticism of paucity of notes.[28] Three months after publication he was reporting to Jerningham that "Sophocles sells very slowly" (Huntington Lib. JE 704; Bettany, Edward Jerningham, 363) and ultimately the work was not as successful as he hoped. It did not manage to supplant Francklin's version, although some commentators considered it to be the superior. Thus the edition did not sell out quickly and provide its author with a profit, although the translation was recognised by contemporaries as being one of some merit, and at least as good as his Euripides. But according to the poet Coleridge, "Pope's popular translation [of Homer] was in the hand, nay, in the mouth of every person; while the translations of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides [by Francklin, Potter and Wodhull] were found only in the libraries of those who did not want them, making scarcely any impression on the community at large" (Thomas Raysor, Coleridge's Shakesperian Criticism, 2v. (1930), II.83). Whilst it is true that many of Potter's subscribers were people of literary fashion rather than learning, all three of the translations were reprinted several times during the nineteenth century and were held in fairly high esteem for fifty years until eventually replaced by more modern editions.[29] The elderly translator therefore retired to Scarning in the Spring of 1788 without having made his fortune but nevertheless having made a major contribution to Greek Studies in eighteenth-century England.

But Potter's story does not end with the disappointing sales of Sophocles. Within a month of publication he received a terse letter from Lord Chancellor Thurlow, to whom he had sent copies of his works.

Potter continued the story in a joyful letter to his nephew written 17 May 1788. Lord Chancellor Thurlow, with whom the sixty-seven year old Potter had been at School, later claimed "he did not like to promote him earlier for fear of making him indolent" (John Campbell, Lives of the Lord Chancellors and keepers of the Great Seal of England, 5th ed. (London, 1868), VII.295). Thurlow's subsequent ungracious behaviour to Potter, when he attempted to thank him in person for the promotion, is described in William Beloe's The sexagenarian (2v. [London, 1817], I.299-300).

The value of the promotion was £300 per year, double his existing income; furthermore, it did not involve the family leaving Scarning since attendance at the Cathedral was required for only two months each year. However, if this were not good fortune enough, the local ecclesiastical establishment at last began to recognize the scholar whom they had so long neglected. In June 1789 Bishop Lewis Bagot, without being asked, awarded to Potter the united livings of the Vicarage of Lowestoft and Rectory of Kessingland, which were valued at £470 and therefore among the richest benefices within the diocese. Thus the family had a new home and an income well beyond their expectations. Potter retained his Prebend's stall but resigned from his other livings, and in 1790 he moved from Scarning to Lowestoft.

His remaining literary works were a discussion of his ideas of literary criticism in the form of a further more detailed pamphlet attack on Johnson (The Art of criticism; as exemplified in Dr. Johnson's lives of the most eminent English poets [London, 1789]) and two commemoration sermons.

Potter is usually portrayed as having been a likeable, unaffected and simple-mannered man with an undoubted sense of humour. There was, however, some aspect of his character which could irritate great men such as Johnson or Thurlow. But the old man was obviously appreciated by his new parishioners, who later subscribed to a mural monument for him in Lowestoft churchyard:

Notes