Hogarth embarking at the Isle of Grain.

Hogarth embarking at the Isle of Grain.

—————— on hands and knees we crawl,
And so get safe on board the yawl.

Gostling.

This sheet is dedicated to the five days’ travels, in 1732, of him

That drew th’ essential form of grace,
That saw the manners in the face,

and four of his friends. “Some few copies of the Tour,” says Horace Walpole, “were printed by Mr. Nichols. It was a party of pleasure down the river into Kent, undertaken by Mr. Hogarth, Mr. Scott, and three of their friends, in which they intended to have more humour than they accomplished, as is commonly the case in such meditated attempts. The Tour was described in verse by one of the company, and the drawings executed by the painters, but with little merit, except the views taken by Mr. Scott.”

Walpole’s account is an incorrect and contemptuous flout of “a merry, and a very merry” party, consisting—besides Hogarth, and his friend Scott, a landscape painter—of Thornhill, (son of sir James, whose daughter Hogarth married;) Tothall, a woollendraper at the corner of Tavistock-court, Covent-garden, who, being a member of the club at the Bedford coffee-house, became intimate with Hogarth; and Forrest, another of Hogarth’s friends. They “accomplished” much “humour,” as their journal shows; though not to the understanding of Walpole, who was only a fine gentleman, a wit, and an adept in artificial knowledge.

A few months ago, I heard from the lips of the kindest and most exquisite humourist of the age, what seems to me a perfect definition—“Humour is Wit steeped in Mannerism.” Walpole could never say, because he never thought, or felt, any thing like it. He was skilled in imitative matters alone: he brought himself up to Art, and there stopped; his good breeding would not permit him to deviate towards Nature. He talked of it as people of fashion do of trade—a vulgar thing, which they are obliged to hear something about, and cannot help being influenced by.

The “some few copies of the Tour,” which Horace Walpole says “were printed by Mr. Nichols,” and which he represents as having been “described in verse by one of the company,” Mr. Nichols certainly printed in 1781; but that gentleman acquaints us, that it “was the production of the ingenious Mr. W. Gostling, of Canterbury,” who was not of the party. Mr. Nichols reprinted it at the request of some friends, on account of its rarity, in his “Biographical Anecdotes of Hogarth.” The account of the “Tour,” really written “by one of the company,” was in prose; and this, which certainly Walpole had not seen, was edited, and given to the world, by Mr. R. Livesay, in 1782, on nine oblong folio pages, with etchings of the same size.

The Tour in question was not “meditated.” The party set out at midnight, at a moment’s warning, from the Bedford Arms tavern, each with a shirt in his pocket. They had particular departments to attend to. Hogarth and Scott made the drawings; Thornhill (Hogarth’s brother-in-law) the map; Tothall faithfully discharged the joint office of treasurer and caterer; and Forrest wrote the journal. They were out five days only; and on the second night after their return, the book was produced, bound, gilt, and lettered, and read at the same tavern to the members of the club then present. A copy of the journal having been left in the hands of the Rev. Mr. Gostling, (author of “A Walk in and about Canterbury,”) he wrote an imitation of it in Hudibrastic verse, of which Mr. Nichols printed twenty copies as a literary curiosity.[345]

The original Tour by Mr. Forrest, and the versified version of it, are placed on the ensuing pages, from the before-mentioned editions; beginning with Forrest’s from the title-page, viz.

AN ACCOUNT of what seemed most remarkable in the FIVE DAYS’ PEREGRINATION of the five following Persons; viz. Messrs. TOTHALL, SCOTT, HOGARTH, THORNHILL, and FORREST. Begun on Saturday, May 27th, 1732, and finished on the 31st of the same Month. “Abi tu, et fac similiter.”—Inscription on Dulwich College Porch. London: Printed for R. Livesay, 1782.

Saturday, May the 27th, we set out with the morning, and took our departure from the Bedford Arms Tavern, in Covent Garden, to the tune of “Why should we quarrel for riches?” The first land we made was Billingsgate, where we dropped anchor at the Dark House.

There Hogarth made a caracatura of a porter, who called himself the Duke of Puddle Dock.[346] The drawing was (by his grace) pasted on the cellar door. We were agreeably entertained with the humours of the place, particularly an explanation of a Gaffer and Gammer, a little gross, though in presence of two of the fair sex. Here we continued till the clock struck one.

Then set sail in a Gravesend boat we had hired for ourselves. Straw was our bed, and a tilt our covering. The wind blew hard at S.E. and by E. We had much rain and no sleep for about three hours. At Cuckold’s Point we sung St. John, at Deptford Pishoken; and in Blackwall Reach eat hung beef and biscuit, and drank right Hollands.

At Purfleet we had a view of the Gibraltar, the Dursley Galley, and Tartar Pink, men of war, from the last of which we took on board the pilot who brought her up the channel. He entertained us with a lieutenant’s account of an insult offered him by the Spaniards, and other affairs of consequence, which naturally made us drowsy; and then Hogarth fell asleep, but soon awaking, was going to relate a dream he had, but falling asleep again, when he awaked forgot he had dreamed at all.

We soon arrived at Gravesend, and found some difficulty in getting ashore, occasioned by an unlucky boy’s having placed his boat between us and the landing-place, and refusing us passage over his vessel; but, as virtue surmounts all obstacles, we happily accomplished this adventure, and arrived at Mr. Bramble’s at six. There we washed our faces and hands, and had our wigs powdered; then drank coffee, eat toast and butter, paid our reckoning, and set out at eight.

We took a view of the building of the New Church, the unknown person’s tomb and epitaph, and the Market place, and then proceeded on foot to Rochester.

Nothing remarkable happened in that journey, except our calling and drinking three pots of beer at an evil house, (as we were afterwards informed,) known by the sign of the Dover Castle, and some small distress Scott suffered in travelling through some clay ground moistened by the rain; but the country being extremely pleasant alleviated his distress, and made him jocund, and about ten we arrived at Rochester.

There we surveyed the fine Bridge, the cathedral, and the Castle; the last well worth observing. It is a very high building, situate on the river Medway, strong built, but almost demolished. With some difficulty we ascended to the top of the battlements, and took a view of a most beautiful country, a fine river, and some of the noblest ships in the world. There is a very curious well cut in the middle wall from the top of the Castle, a considerable depth below its foundation, as we believed: we saw a little boy go down towards the bottom of it by small holes cut in the sides, wherein he placed his hands and feet, and soon returned, bringing up with him a young daw he had taken out of a nest there.

We afterwards traversed the city, saw the Town-house, Watts’s Hospital for relief of six travelling persons, by entertaining them with one night’s lodging, and giving to each fourpence in the morning, provided they are not persons contagiously diseased, rogues, or proctors.

We saw on the front of a house four figures in basso relievo after the antique, done by some modern hand, representing the Seasons; and then came to the Crown inn at twelve. From that time till dinner most of our company slept on several chairs in the dining-room. From one o’clock till three we were at dinner on a dish of soles and flounders, with crab sauce, a calf’s heart stuffed and roasted, the liver fried, and the other appurtenances minced, a leg of mutton roasted, and some green peas, all very good and well drest, with good small beer and excellent port. The boy of the house cleaned all our shoes, and we again set out to seek adventures.

Hogarth and Scott stopped and played at hop-scotch in the colonnade under the Town-hall; and then we walked on to Chatham, bought shrimps and eat them, and proceeded by a round-about way to the king’s store-houses and dock-yard, which are very noble. We went on board the Marlborough and the Royal Sovereign, which last is reckoned one of the finest ships in the navy. We saw the London, the Royal George, and Royal Anne, all first-rate men of war. At six we returned to our quarters at Rochester, and passed the time agreeably till nine, and then, quite fatigued with pleasure, we went to bed.

Sunday at seven awaked. Hogarth and Thornhill related their dreams, and we entered into a conversation on that subject in bed, and left off no wiser than we begun. We arose and missed Scott, who soon came, and acquainted us that he had been on the bridge drawing a view of some part of the river, (vide Drawing the 2d,) and wondered at the people staring at him, till he recollected it was Sunday. We asked him to produce the drawing; and he told us he had not drawn any thing. We were all desirous to have him reconcile this contradiction; but other affairs intervening, prevented our further inquiry.

At nine we breakfasted, and set out over the bridge, through part of Stroud, and by the Medway side. Going through the fields, we were attacked by a severe shower of rain; to escape which Scott retired under a hedge, and lying down had the misfortune to soil the back of his coat——. Uneasy at this, and requiring assistance to be cleaned——, he missed a white cambric handkerchief, which he declared was lent him by his spouse; and though he soon found it, yet was his joy at that success again abated by his fear that it was torn; but being soon convinced that he was more afraid than hurt, we all proceeded merrily to Frendsbury.

We there viewed the church and church-yard, pleasantly situated. There are some bad epitaphs, and in the church is hung up a list of benefactions to the parish, at the bottom of which there is wrote, “Witness our hands,” and subscribed with the name of “William Gibbons, Vicar,” only. This seemed a little odd; but being in such a place we imagined there might be some mystery in it, so inquired no further.

At ten we walked on, and calling a council among ourselves, it was proposed, that if any one was dissatisfied with our past proceedings, or intended progress, he might depatriate, and be allowed money to bear his charges. It was unanimously rejected, and resolved to proceed to Upnor.

We viewed, and Hogarth made a drawing of the castle, and Scott of some shipping riding near it (vide Drawing the 3d). The castle is not very large, but strong, garrisoned with twenty-four men, and the like number of guns, though no more than eight are mounted. I went and bought cockles of an old blind man and woman, who were in a little cock-boat on the river. We made a hurry-scurry dinner at the Smack at the ten-gun battery, and had a battle-royal with sticks, pebbles, and hog’s dung. In this fight Tothall was the greatest sufferer, and his cloaths carried the marks of his disgrace. Some time this occasioned much laughter, and we marched on to the bird’s-nest battery; and, keeping the river and shipping still in view, passed over the hills, and came to Hoo church-yard, where, on a wooden rail over a grave, is an epitaph, supposed to be wrote by a maid-servant on her master, which, being something extraordinary, I shall here transcribe verbatim:

And. wHen. he. Died. you. plainLy. see.
Hee. freely. gave. al. to. Sara. passa. Wee.
And. in. Doing. so. if. DoTh. prevail.
that. Ion. him. can. Well. besTow. this Rayel.
On. Year. I. sarved. him. it. is. well. None.
BuT. Thanks. beto. God. it. is. al. my. One.

******

At four we left Hoo and an agreeable widow landlady, who had buried four husbands. As we travelled along this charming country, the weather was exceeding pleasant, and Scott (according to custom) made us laugh by attempting to prove, a man might go over but not through the world; and, for example, pointed to the earth, and asked us to go through that element. Our fixed opinion was, that his argument had less weight than his coat-pockets, which were, by some of the company, filled with pebble-stones, unperceived by him, and he carried them some time; but at last discovering the trick, and being thereby in a condition to knock down all opposition to his argument, we acquiesced.

At five we took a view of Stoke Church, and passed through the church-yard, but saw nothing worth observation till we came to a farm-house not far distant; where, on an elm-tree at the door was placed a high pole, with a board that moved with the wind, painted in form of a cock, over which was a fane weather-cock, and above that a shuttle-cock. This variety of cocks afforded much speculation.

At North-street, a little village we passed through, we all agreed to quarrel; and being near a well of water full to the brim, we dealt about that ammunition for some time, till the cloaths and courage of the combatants were sufficiently cooled; and then, all pleased, travelled on to the town of Stock, and took up our quarters at the Nag’s Head.

At six, whilst supper was getting ready, we walked out to take a view of the low countries thereabouts; and, on an adjacent plain, another sharp engagement happened, in which Tothall and Scott both suffered, by their cloaths being daubed with soft cow-dung.

At seven we returned back and cleaned ourselves; supped, and adjourned to the door; drank punch, stood and sat for our pictures drawn by Hogarth, for which see Drawing the 3d. Night coming on, we drew cuts who should lie single, there being but three beds, and no night-caps. The lot fell to Tothall, and he had the satisfaction of lying alone.

At ten went to bed, and had much laughter at Scott and I being forced to lie together. They threw the stocking, fought perukes, and did a great many pretty tricks in a horn, and then left us. At eleven we arose again, without a candle, and dressed ourselves, our sheets being very damp; then went to bed again in our cloaths, and slept till three.

Monday at three, awaked and cursed our day; our eyes, lips, and hands, being tormented and swelled by the biting of gnats. Notwithstanding this, the God of Sleep being powerful, we soon forgot our miseries, and submitted to be bound fast again in his leaden chains, in which condition we remained till six; then arose, had our shoes cleaned, were shaved, and had our wigs flowered, by a fisherman in his boots and shock hair, without coat or waistcoat, vide Drawing the 4th. We had milk and toast for breakfast, paid our reckoning, and set out for Sheerness at eight.

We passed down Stock Marshes, being directed to keep the road-way, which being heavy walking (much rain having fallen the preceding night) I prevailed on the company to follow me over a style, which led along the beach by a creek side, imagining it as near and a better way; but was deceived, and led the company about two miles astray; but getting into the right road, we soon entered the Isle of Grain, (so called from its fruitfulness, as I conjecture,) and near the church there, we stopped at the Chequer ale-house, kept by Goody Hubbard, who entertained us with salt pork, bread, butter, and buns, and good malt liquor. Here Scott left and lost his penknife, value five shillings. We expected to have got a boat here to carry us over to Sheerness; but the ferry-man did not care to go, and another person we would have employed for that purpose sent us word, that the wind blew too hard. But our landlady put us into a method by which we might possibly get a passage; and that was, to go down the marshes towards the salt-houses, and endeavour to hail the ships in ordinary, and by that means get one of their boats. We accordingly went down to the shore, which was covered with variety of shells, and accidentally espied a little boat coming on our side the water below us, which Thornhill and Tothall went down to meet, and brought up to us, and with some difficulty took us in (the manner of our embarking is delineated in the [5th drawing]); and we set sail for Sheerness. The sea ran high the wind blowing hard at S.W. and by S. In our passage we had the pleasure of seeing and hearing the guns fired from the fort and the men of war, and about twelve we landed. We traversed the fort, went round the lines, saw all the fortifications and batteries, and had a delightful prospect of the sea and the island of Sheppy. Scott was laughed at for smelling to the touch-holes of some of the guns lately discharged; and so was Hogarth, for sitting down to cut his toe-nails in the garrison. At one we set out for Queenborough, to which place we walked along the beach, which the spray flew over in many places. Thornhill fell down, and slightly hurt his leg; yet we all perambulated merrily, and arrived at Queenborough about two.

The town is but one street, situate on the east side of a creek, called after the town’s name, and branching out of the Medway near the town. The street is clean and well paved (for a more exact description see the 6th drawing), and answers the description I have had of a Spanish town, viz. there is no sign of any trade, nor were many human creatures to be seen at our first arrival. The church is low and ill built: among many tomb-stones there are but few epitaphs worth noting, and the most material I take to be the following one, viz.

Henry Knight Master of a Shipp to Greenland and
Herpooner 24 Voyages

In Greenland I whales Sea horses Bears did Slay
Though Now my Body is Intombe in Clay

The town-house or clock-house (as it is called) stands in the middle of the street, supported by four piers, which form four arches, and (it being holiday) was decorated with a flag, in which is delineated the arms of the corporation. We took up our quarters at the Red Lion (which the people call the Swans) fronting the river, and met with a civil, prating landlady; but she being unprovided with beds, we applied to a merry woman at a private house, who furnished us with what we wanted. We then took another walk up the town, had a view of the inside of the church, and a conference with the grave-digger, who informed us of the state of the corporation. Among other things we were told, that the mayor is a custom-house officer, and the parson a sad dog. We found, to our sorrow, that although the town has two market-days, yet there was not one piece of fresh meat of any sort, nor any poultry or fish, except lobsters, to be got; with which, and some eggs and bacon, we made our supper.

We walked up the hill behind the town, to a well of very good water; over which (we were informed) a palace formerly stood, built by King Edward the Third for his Queen Philippa. Whilst we were at the well, two sailors came and drew a bucket of water to drink, and told us, that they and four more, belonging to the Rose man of war, were obliged the day before to attend one of their midshipmen, a son of General S——, in a yawl up the creek, and run the vessel ashore, where the midshipman left them, (without any sustenance, but a few cockles, or one penny of money to buy any,) and went to Sheerness, and was not yet returned, and they half-starved. We gave the fellows six-pence, who were very thankful, and ran towards the town to buy victuals for themselves and their companions, who lay asleep at some distance. We going to view their boat that stuck fast in the mud, one of the sailors returned hastily, and kindly offered us some cockles; this seemed an act of so much gratitude that we followed the fellows into the town, and gave them another sixpence; and they fetched their companions, and all refreshed themselves, and were very thankful and merry.

About seven we passed through the town, and saw and conversed with several pretty women, which we did not expect, not having seen any at our arrival, and returned to our quarters. We got a wooden chair, and placed Hogarth in it in the street, where he made the Drawing No. 6, and gathered a great many men, women, and children, about him, to see his performance. Having finished his drawing, we again walked up town, and at the mayor’s door saw all the sailors before mentioned, who informed me, (with “your worship” at every word) that the midshipman was lately returned from Sheerness, and had been up the creek to see how the boat lay; and coming back, had met a sailor in company with a woman whom the midshipman wanted to be free with, and the sailor opposed, insisting she was his wife, and hindered him from being rude; which the midshipman resenting, was gone to the mayor to redress his grievance. We thought this a very odd affair, but did not stay to see the result of it.

About nine we returned to our quarters, drank to our friends as usual, and emptied several cans of good flip, and all sung merrily; but were quite put out of countenance by some Harwich men, who came with lobsters, and were drinking in the next room. They sung several sea-songs so agreeably, that our St. John could not come in competition, nor could Pishoken save us from disgrace; so that after finishing the evening as pleasantly as possible, we went out of the house the back-way to our lodgings, at near eleven.

When we came there, our landlady had provided a bed for Scott in the garret, which made him grumble, and us laugh: this provoked him so far, that he absolutely refused to lie there; and Tothall, out of pure good-nature, offered him his bed at the house we came from, and that he would lie in the garret. This Scott accepted, and went away; and Tothall going up stairs, found he was to lie on a flock bed, without curtains; so came down again immediately, and went after Scott, at which we were very merry, and slept upon it till six in the morning.

Tuesday morning, at six, Hogarth called me up, and told me, the good woman insisted on being paid for her bed, or having Scott before the mayor; which last we did all in our power to promote, but to no effect; so coming to the public-house where Scott and Tothall lay, we found the doors open (a thing common in this town,) and nobody up. However, Hogarth soon roused them; and then Scott related another distress he had the last night, viz. when he left us, and was going to bed, he perceived something stir under the bed-cloaths, which he (collecting all his courage) was resolved to feel; at which something cried out, (seemingly affrighted,) and scared him out of his wits; but, resuming courage enough to inquire into the nature of affairs, he found it to be a little boy of the house, who had mistook the bed. This relation, according to custom, made us very merry, and Tothall provided some breakfast; after which we left the Swans, and went up town, where our shirts were sent to be washed; but not having time to dry, we took them wet, and had them dried and ironed at the next town.

About ten we quitted Queenborough: the morning was delightful, the country very pleasant, through which we passed very agreeably up to Minster, a little village on the highest part of the island. We laboured hard to climb the hill to the church-yard, it being very steep. We saw there, on a wooden rail over the grave, the following epitaph in verse:

Here Interr’d George Anderson Doth Lye
By fallen on an Anchor he did Dye
In Sheerness Yard on Good Friday
ye 6th of April, I do say
All you that Read my Allegy: Be alwaies
Ready for to Dye—Aged 42 Years

Our landlord at the George procured us a key of the church, which we entered, and saw there the monuments of Lord Cheyne, of a Spanish Ambassador, and of the Lord Shorland. Scott made a drawing of the Ambassador, (vide Drawing the 7th,) and Hogarth of Lord Shorland (see Drawing the 8th). The legend of the last being remarkable, I shall relate it with all its circumstances. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, this lord having been to visit a friend on this island, and passing by this church in his way home to Shorland, about two miles off, he saw a concourse of people gathered together in the church-yard; and inquiring the reason, was informed, that the parson who stood by there, refused to bury the corpse brought for that purpose, because there was no money to pay the burial fees. His lordship, being extremely moved at the parson, ordered the people to throw him into the grave, and bury him quick; which they accordingly did, and he died. My lord went home; and there reflecting on what he had done, and fearing to forfeit his life for the offence, he wrote a petition, setting forth the nature of his offence; and hearing the queen was on board one of the ships at the Nore, (to which place she came to take a view of her fleet designed to oppose the Spanish armada,) he took a horse, and rode directly into the sea, and swam to the Nore, above three miles off, and coming to the ship’s side, begged to see her majesty; who came immediately, and he presented his petition. The queen received, read, and granted it; and he, without quitting his horse, swam back again to the island; and coming on the shore met an old woman, who told him, that though the horse had then saved his life, he would be the cause of his death. His lordship fearing (and in order to prevent) the accomplishment of the old woman’s prophecy, alighted from his horse, drew his sword and killed him, and left him there; and his carcass was, by the force of the sea, thrown some little way on the land.

Some years after this, my lord, walking with some of his friends near the sea-side, espied the skull and some other bones of the horse lying there, and relating the foregoing account, happened to kick the skull and hurt one of his toes, which mortified and killed him; and he lies in Minster Church, and a monument is erected over his grave, on which he is figured with a horse’s head (supposed to be in the waves) placed by him. (Vide Drawing the 8th.) This story is so firmly believed in that parish, that a horse’s head, finely gilt, is placed as a weather-cock on the church steeple, and the figure of a horse is struck upon the spindle above that weather-cock, and the church is commonly called the Horse Church. We were so well satisfied of the people’s belief that all they told us was true, that we did not dare to declare our disbelief of one tittle of the story.

We dined at the George, staid till four, then left Minster, and walked to Sheerness; hired a small vessel, (vulgarly called a bomb-boat,) and about five set sail for Gravesend.

The wind blew a fresh gale at E. and by S. Scott grew very sea-sick, and did what was natural in such cases. Soon after, Hogarth grew sick, and was consequently uneasy, which was augmented by our stopping; and Tothall going on board Captain Robinson, in one of the custom-house sloops, riding in Holy Haven, who furnished him with some milk punch, and us with some fire to light our pipes, which was greatly wanted.

It rained hard all the voyage. We saw several porpoises rolling in pursuit of their prey; and one in particular was got so near shore, that we thought he must remain there; but he deceived our expectation, and got off again.

About seven, our sick passengers being recovered, we sailed merrily, and sung St. John, Pishoken, and several other songs and tunes ourselves, and our cockswain entertained us with several sailors’ songs; but our notes were soon changed by our vessel running on, and sticking fast in, the Blye sand, though we were almost in the middle of the channel. It was the tide of ebb, and within about an hour of flood, which gave us some concern, believing we should be forced to continue there some time, and bear the beating of the wind and waves; yet, by the industry of our mariners, and the skilful assistance of Tothall, we got off again in a little time (though with some difficulty); and the wind proving favourable, we arrived safe at Gravesend about ten.

We supped, and drank good wine, and thought our adventures and extraordinary mirth ended, but found otherwise: for a great coat Scott had borrowed for this journey, and left at Gravesend, and travelled without it, we found, on our arrival here, could not be found. This, though grief to him, was sport to us; and he soon got the better of his uneasiness, and grew as merry as we. Thus we continued till pretty late, and then went to bed.

Wednesday, at eight, we arose, breakfasted, and walked about the town. At ten went into a boat we had hired, with a truss of clean straw, a bottle of good wine, pipes, tobacco, and a match. The wind was favourable at S.E. and a mackerel gale. Our passage was very pleasant to all till we came into Eriff Reach, when Scott, being without his great coat, (for the reason above-mentioned,) taking a drawing of some shipping, a flurry of wind caused our vessel to ship a sea, which washed him from head to foot, and nobody else. He, greatly surprised, got up, and drawing the fore-tail of his shirt from out of his breeches, (which were also well soused with salt water,) he held it in both hands opposed to the windward; and the sun shining warm, he was soon dry; and, recovering his surprise, joined with us in laughing at the accident.

We came merrily up the river; and quitting our boat at Billingsgate, got into a wherry that carried us through bridge, and landed at Somerset Water-gate; from whence we walked all together, and arrived at about two at the Bedford Arms, Covent Garden, in the same good-humour we left it to set out on this very pleasant expedition.

I think I cannot better conclude than with taking notice, that not one of the company was unemployed; for Mr. Thornhill made the map, Mr. Hogarth and Mr. Scott the drawings, Mr. Tothall was our treasurer, which (though a place of the greatest trust) he faithfully discharged; and the foregoing Memoir was the work of

E. Forrest.

The veracity of this manuscript is attested by us,

Wm. Hogarth.
Saml. Scott.

Wm. Tothall.
Jno. Thornhill.

London, May 27, 1732. Accompt of Disbursements for Messieurs Hogarth and Co. viz.

£.s.d.
To paid at the Dark-house, Billingsgate0081⁄2
To paid for a pint of Geneva Hollands010
To paid waterman to Gravesend050
To paid barber ditto0010
To paid for breakfast at ditto022
To paid for beer on the road to Rochester009
To paid for shrimps at Chatham009
To paid at the gunnery and dock016
To paid bill at Rochester173
28.To gave at Upnor for information003
To paid at the Smack at ditto043
To paid at Hoo018
To paid at Stoke0116
29.To paid at Mother Hubbard’s at Grain030
To paid for passage over to Sheerness0210
To paid for lobsters at Queenborough016
To paid for two pots of beer to treat the sexton006
To paid for dinner, &c.066
To charity gave the sailors010
30.To paid for lodgings and maid046
To paid for breakfast026
To paid for washing shirts018
To paid at Minster092
To paid at Sheerness013
To paid for a boat to Gravesend070
31.To paid barber at ditto012
To paid for sundry at ditto1031⁄2
To paid for passage to Somerset House056
£660

Vouchers produced, examined, and allowed,

Per E. Forrest.
Per Wm. Hogarth.

Saml. Scott.
Jno. Thornhill.

The Rev. Mr. Gostling’s version bore the same title and motto as the prose Tour, with this addition,—“Imitated in Hudibrasticks, by one well acquainted with some of the Travellers, and of the places here celebrated, with liberty of some additions.” It is subjoined; viz.

MR. GOSTLING’S ACCOUNT OF HOGARTH’S TOUR.

’Twas first of morn on Saturday,
The seven-and-twentieth day of May,
When Hogarth, Thornhill, Tothall, Scott,
And Forrest, who this journal wrote,
From Covent-Garden took departure,
To see the world by land and water.
Our march we with a song begin;
Our hearts were light, our breeches thin.
We meet with nothing of adventure
Till Billingsgate’s Dark-house we enter.
Where we diverted were, while baiting,
With ribaldry, not worth relating
(Quite suited to the dirty place)
But what most pleas’d us was his Grace
Of Puddle Dock, a porter grim,
Whose portrait Hogarth, in a whim,
Presented him in caricature,
He pasted on the cellar door.[347]
But hark! the Watchman cries “Past one!”
’Tis time that we on board were gone.
Clean straw we find laid for our bed,
A tilt for shelter over head.
The boat is soon got under sail,
Wind near S. E. a mack’rel gale,
Attended by a heavy rain;
We try to sleep, but try in vain,
So sing a song, and then begin
To feast on biscuit, beef, and gin.
At Purfleet find three men of war,
The Dursley galley, Gibraltar,
And Tartar pink, and of this last
The pilot begg’d of us a cast
To Gravesend, which he greatly wanted,
And readily by us was granted.
The grateful man, to make amends,
Told how the officers and friends
Of England were by Spaniards treated,
And shameful instances repeated.
While he these insults was deploring,
Hogarth, like Premier, fell to snoring,
But waking cry’d, “I dream’d”—and then
Fell fast asleep, and snor’d again.
The morn clear’d up, and after five
At port of Gravesend we arrive,
But found it hard to get on shore,
His boat a young son of a whore
Had fix’d just at our landing-place,
And swore we should not o’er it pass;
But, spite of all the rascal’s tricks,
We made a shift to land by six,
And up to Mrs. Bramble’s go
[A house that we shall better know],
There get a barber for our wigs,
Wash hands and faces, stretch our legs,
Had toast and butter, and a pot
Of coffee (our third breakfast) got:
Then, paying what we had to pay,
For Rochester we took our way,
Viewing the new church as we went,
And th’ unknown person’s monument.
The beauteous prospects found us talk,
And shorten’d much our two hours walk,
Though by the way we did not fail
To stop and take three pots of ale,
And this enabled us by ten
At Rochester to drink again.
Now, Muse, assist, while I declare
(Like a true English traveller)
What vast variety we survey
In the short compass of one day.
We scarce had lost the sight of Thames,
When the fair Medway’s winding streams,
And far-extending Rochester,
Before our longing eyes appear:
The Castle and Cathedral grace
One prospect, so we mend our pace;
Impatient for a nearer view,
But first must Strood’s rough street trudge through,
And this our feet no short one find;
However, with a cheerful mind,
All difficulties we get o’er,
And soon are on the Medway’s shore.
New objects here before us rise,
And more than satisfy our eyes.
The stately Bridge from side to side,
The roaring cataracts of the tide,
Deafen our ears, and charm our sight,
And terrify while they delight.
These we pass over to the Town,
And take our Quarters at The Crown,
To which the Castle is so near,
That we all in a hurry were
The grand remains on’t to be viewing;
It is indeed a noble ruin,
Must have been very strong, but length
Of time has much impair’d its strength:
The lofty Tower as high or higher
Seems than the old Cathedral’s spire;
Yet we determin’d were to gain
Its top, which cost some care and pain;
When there arriv’d, we found a well,
The depth of which I cannot tell;
Small holes cut in on every side
Some hold for hands and feet provide,
By which a little boy we saw
Go down, and bring up a jack-daw.
All round about us then we gaze,
Observing, not without amaze,
How towns here undistinguish’d join,
And one vast One to form combine.
Chatham with Rochester seems but one,
Unless we’re shewn the boundary stone,
That and its yards contiguous lie
To pleasant Brompton standing high;
The Bridge across the raging flood
Which Rochester divides from Strood,
Extensive Strood, on t’other side,
To Frindsbury quite close ally’d,
The country round, and river fair,
Our prospects made beyond compare,
Which quite in raptures we admire;
Then down to face of earth retire.
Up the Street walking, first of all
We take a view of the Town-Hall.
Proceeding farther on, we spy
A house, design’d to catch the eye,
With front so rich, by plastick skill,
As made us for a while stand still:
Four huge Hobgoblins grace the wall,
Which we four Bas Relievo’s call;
They the four Seasons represent,
At least were form’d for that intent.
Then Watts’s Hospital we see
(No common curiosity);
Endow’d (as on the front appears)
In favour of poor travellers;
Six such it every night receives,
Supper and lodging gratis gives,
And to each man next morn does pay
A groat, to keep him on his way:
But the contagiously infected,
And rogues and proctors, are rejected.
It gave us too some entertainment
To find out what this bounteous man meant,
Yet were we not so highly feasted.
But that we back to dinner hasted.
By twelve again we reach The Crown,
But find our meat not yet laid down,
So (spite of “Gentlemen, d’ye call?”)
On chairs quite fast asleep we fall,
And with clos’d eyes again survey
In dreams what we have seen to-day;
Till dinner’s coming up, when we
As ready are as that can be.
If we describe it not, we’re undone,
You’ll scarce believe we came from London,
With due attention then prepare
Yourself to hear our bill of fare
For our first course a dish there was
Of soles and flounders with crab-sauce,
A stuff’d and roast calf’s-heart beside,
With ’purt’nance minc’d, and liver fry’d;
And for a second course, they put on
Green pease and roasted leg of mutton.
The cook was much commended for’t;
Fresh was the beer, and sound the port;
So that nem. con. we all agree
(Whatever more we have to see)
From table we’ll not rise till three.
Our shoes are clean’d, ’tis three o’clock,
Come let’s away to Chatham-Dock;
We shan’t get there till almost four,
To see’t will take at least an hour;
Yet Scott and Hogarth needs must stop
At the Court-Hall to play Scotch hop.
To Chatham got, ourselves we treat
With Shrimps, which as we walk we eat,
For speed we take a round-about-
way, as we afterwards found out:
At length reach the King’s yards and docks
Admire the ships there on the stocks,
The men of war afloat we view,
Find means to get aboard of two;[348]
But here I must not be prolix,
For we went home again at six,
There smoak’d our pipes, and drank our wine,
And comfortably sat till nine,
Then, with our travels much improv’d,
To our respective beds we mov’d.
Sunday at seven we rub our eyes,
But are too lazy yet to rise,
Hogarth and Thornhill tell their dreams,
And, reasoning deeply on those themes,
After much learned speculation,
Quite suitable to the occasion,
Left off as wise as they begun,
Which made for us in bed good fun.
But by and by, when up we got,
Sam Scott was missing, “Where’s Sam Scott?”
“Oh! here he comes. Well! whence come you?”
“Why from the bridge, taking a view
Of something that did highly please me,
But people passing by would teaze me
With ‘Do you work on Sundays, friend?’
So that I could not make an end.”
At this we laugh’d, for ’twas our will
Like men of taste that day to kill.
So after breakfast we thought good
To cross the bridge again to Strood:
Thence eastward we resolve to go,
And through the Hundred march of Hoo,
Wash’d on the north side by the Thames,
And on the south by Medway’s streams,
Which to each other here incline,
Till at the Nore in one they join.
Before we Frindsbury could gain,
There fell a heavy shower of rain,
When crafty Scott a shelter found
Under a hedge upon the ground,
There of his friends a joke he made,
But rose most woefully bewray’d;
How against him the laugh was turn’d,
And he the vile disaster mourn’d!
We work, all hands, to make him clean,
And fitter to be fitly seen.
But, while we scrap’d his back and side,
All on a sudden, out he cried,
“I’ve lost my cambrick handkercher,
’Twas lent me by my wife so dear:
What I shall do I can’t devise,
I’ve nothing left to wipe my eyes.”
At last the handkerchief was found,
To his great comfort, safe and sound,
He’s now recover’d and alive;
So in high spirits all arrive
At Frindsbury, fatn’d for prospects fair,
But we much more diverted were
With what the parish church did grace,
“A list of some who lov’d the place,
In memory of their good actions,
And gratitude for their benefactions.
Witnes our hands—Will. Gibbons, Vicar—”
And no one else.—This made us snicker:
At length, with countenances serious,
We all agreed it was mysterious,
Not guessing that the reason might
Be, the Churchwardens could not write.
At ten, in council it was mov’d.
Whoe’er was tir’d, or disapprov’d
Of our proceedings, might go back,
And cash to bear his charges take.
With indignation this was heard.
Each was for all events prepar’d.
So all with one consent agreed
To Upnor-Castle to proceed,
And at the sutler’s there we din’d
On such coarse fare as we could find.
The Castle was not large, but strong,
And seems to be of standing long.
Twenty-four men its garrison,
And just for every man a gun;
Eight guns were mounted, eight men active,
The rest were rated non-effective.
Here an old couple, who had brought
Some cockles in their boat, besought
That one of us would buy a few,
For they were very fresh and new.
I did so, and ’twas charity;
He was quite blind, and half blind she.
Now growing frolicksome and gay,
Like boys, we after dinner play,
But, as the scene lay in a fort,
Something like war must be our sport:
Sticks, stones, and hogs-dung were our weapons,
And, as in such frays oft it happens,
Poor Tothall’s cloaths here went to pot,
So that he could not laugh at Scott.
From hence all conquerors we go
To visit the church-yard at Hoo.
At Hoo we found an Epitaph,
Which made us (as ’twill make you) laugh:
A servant maid, turn’d poetaster,
Wrote it in honour of her master;

I therefore give you (and I hope you
Will like it well) a Vera Copia:
“And . wHen . he . Died . You plainly . see
Hee . freely . gave . al . to . Sara . passaWee.
And . in . Doing . so . it DoTh . prevail .
that . Ion . him . can . well . bes . Tow . this Rayel .
On . Year . I sarved . him . it is well . none .
BuT Thanks . beto . God . it . is . all my . One.”

*****

Long at one place we must not stay,
’Tis almost four, let’s haste away.
But here’s a sign; ’tis rash, we think,
To leave the place before we drink.
We meet with liquor to our mind,
Our hostess complaisant and kind:
She was a widow, who, we found,
Had (as the phrase is) been shod round,
That is, had buried husbands four,
And had no want of charms for more;
Yet her we leave, and, as we go,
Scott bravely undertook to show
That through the world we could not pass,
How thin soe’er our breeches was;
“’Tis true, indeed, we may go round,
But through”—then pointed to the ground.
So well he manag’d the debate,
We own’d he was a man of weight:
And so indeed he was this once,
His pockets we had fill’d with stones.
But here we’d serv’d ourselves a trick,
Of which he might have made us sick;
We’d furnish’d him with ammunition
Fit to knock down all opposition;
And, knowing well his warmth of temper,
Out of his reach began to scamper,
Till, growing cooler, he pretends
His passion feign’d, so all are friends.
Our danger now becomes a joke,
And peaceably we go to Stoke.
About the church we nothing can see
To strike or entertain our fancy:
But near a farm, or an elm tree,
A long pole fix’d upright we see,
And tow’rd the top of it was plac’d
A weathercock, quite in high taste,
Which all of us, ere we go further,
Pronounce of the Composite order.
First, on a board turn’d by the wind,
A painter had a cock design’d,
A common weathercock was above it,
This turn’d too as the wind did move it;
Then on the spindle’s point so small
A shuttlecock stuck o’ertopp’d them all.
This triple alliance gave occasion
To much improving speculation.
Alas! we ne’er know when we are well,
So at Northfleet again must quarrel;
But fought not here with sticks and stones
(For those, you know, might break our bones)
A well just by, full to the brim,
Did fitter for our purpose seem;
So furiously we went to dashing,
Till our coats wanted no more washing;
But this our heat and courage cooling,
’Twas soon high time to leave such fooling.
To The Nag’s Head we therefore hie,
To drink, and to be turn’d adry.
At six, while supper was preparing,
And we about the marsh-lands staring,
Our two game cocks, Tothall and Scott,
To battling once again were got:
But here no weapons could they find,
Save what the cows dropp’d from behind;
With these they pelted, till we fancy
Their cloaths look’d something like a tansy.
At seven we all come home again,
Tothall and Scott their garments clean;
Supper we get, and, when that’s o’er,
A tiff of punch drink at the door;
Then, as the beds were only three,
Draw cuts who shall so lucky be
As here to sleep without a chum;
To Tothall’s share the prize did come;
Hogarth and Thornhill, Scott and I,
In pairs, like man and wife, must lie.
Then mighty frolicksome they grow,
At Scott and me the stocking throw,
Fight with their wigs, in which perhaps
They sleep, for here we found no caps.
Up at eleven again we get,
Our sheets were so confounded wet;
We dress, and lie down in our cloaths;
Monday, at three, awak’d and rose.
And of the cursed gnats complain,
Yet make a shift to sleep again.
Till six o’clock we quiet lay,
And then got out for the whole day;
To fetch a barber out we send;
Stripp’d, and in boots, he does attend,
For he’s a fisherman by trade;
Tann’d was his face, shock was his head;
He flowers our wigs and trims our faces,
And the top barber of the place is.
The cloth is for our breakfast spread,
A bowl of milk and toasted bread
Are brought, of which while Forrest eats,
To draw our pictures Hogarth sits;
Thornhill is in the barber’s hands,
Shaving himself Will Tothall stands;
While Scott is in a corner sitting,
And an unfinish’d piece completing.
Our reckoning about eight we pay,
And take for Isle of Greane our way;
To keep the road we were directed,
But, as ’twas bad, this rule neglected;
A tempting path over a stile
Led us astray above a mile;
Yet the right road at last we gain,
And joy to find ourselves at Greane;
Where my Dame Husbands, at The Chequer,
Refresh’d us with some good malt liquor;
Into her larder then she runs,
Brings out salt pork, butter, and buns,
And coarse black bread, but that’s no matter,
’Twill fortify us for the water.
Here Scott so carefully laid down
His penknife which had cost a crown,
That all in vain we sought to find it,
And, for his comfort, say, “Ne’er mind it;”
For to Sheerness we now must go:
To this the ferryman says, “No.”
We to another man repair’d:
He too says, “No—it blows too hard.”
But, while we study how to get there,
In spite of this tempestuous weather,
Our landlady a scheme propos’d,
With which we fortunately clos’d,
Was to the shore to go, and try
To hail the ships in ordinary,
So we might get, for no great matter,
A boat to take us o’er the water.
We haste, and soon the shore we tread,
With various kinds of shells bespread,
And in a little time we spy’d
A boat approaching on our side;
The man to take us in agreed,
But that was difficult indeed,
Till, holding in each hand an oar,
He made a sort of bridge to shore,
O’er which on hands and knees we crawl,
And so get safe on board the yawl.
In little time we seated were,
And now to Shepey’s coast draw near;
When suddenly, with loud report,
The cannons roar from ships and fort,
And, like tall fellows, we impute
To our approach this grand salute.
But soon, alas! our pride was humbled,
And from this fancy’d height we tumbled,
On recollecting that the day
The nine and twentieth was of May.
The firing had not long been ended,
Before at Sheerness we were landed,
Where on the battery while we walk,
And of the charming prospect talk,
Scott from us in a hurry runs,
And, getting to the new-fir’d guns,
Unto their touch-holes clapp’d his nose;
Hogarth sits down, and trims his toes;
These whims when we had made our sport,
Our turn we finish round the fort,
And are at one for Queenborough going:
Bleak was the walk, the wind fierce blowing,
And driving o’er our heads the spray;
On loose beach stones, our pebbly way,
But Thornhill only got a fall,
Which hurt him little, if at all:
So merrily along we go,
And reach that famous town by two.
Queenborough consists of one short street,
Broad, and well-pav’d, and very neat;
Nothing like dirt offends the eye,
Scarce any people could we spy:
The town-house, for the better show
Is mounted on a portico
Of piers and arches, number four,
And crown’d at top with a clock tower;
But all this did not reach so high
As a flag-staff, that stood just by,
On which a standard huge was flying
(The borough’s arms, the king’s supplying)
Which on high festivals they display
To do the honours of the day.
As for salutes, excus’d they are,
Because they have no cannon there.
To the church-yard we first repair,
And hunt for choice inscriptions there.
Search stones and rails, till almost weary all
In hopes to find something material.
When one at last, of pyebald style
(Though grave the subject) made us smile:
Telling us first, in humble prose,
“That Henry Knight doth here repose,
A Greenland Trader twice twelve year,
As master and as harpooner:”
Then, in as humble verse, we read
(As by himself in person said)
“In Greenland I whales, sea-horse, and bears did slay
Though now my body is intombed in clay.”
The house at which we were to quarter
Is call’d The Swans; this rais’d our laughter,
Because the sign is The Red Lion,
So strange a blunder we cry “Fie on!”
But, going in, all neat we see
And clean; so was our landlady:
With great civility she told us,
She had not beds enough to hold us,
But a good neighbour had just by,
Where some of us perhaps might lie.
She sends to ask. The merry dame
Away to us directly came,
Quite ready our desires to grant,
And furnish us with what we want.
Back to the church again we go,
Which is but small, ill built, and low,
View’d the inside, but still we see
Nothing of curiosity,
Unless we suffer the grave-digger
In this our work to make a figure,
Whom just beside us now we have,
Employ’d in opening of a grave.
A prating spark indeed he was,
Knew all the scandal of the place,
And often rested from his labours,
To give the history of his neighbours;
Told who was who, and what was what,
Till on him we bestow’d a pot.
(For he forgot not, you may think,
“Masters, I hope you’ll make me drink!”).
At this his scurrilous tongue run faster,
Till “a sad dog” he call’d his master,
Told us the worshipful the Mayor
Was but a custom house officer,
Still rattling on till we departed,
Not only with his tales diverted,
But so much wisdom we had got,
We treated him with t’other pot.
Return we now to the town-hall,
That, like the borough, is but small,
Under its portico’s a space,
Which you may call the market place,
Just big enough to hold the stocks,
And one, if not two, butchers’ blocks,
Emblems of plenty and excess,
Though you can no where meet with less:
For though ’tis call’d & market-town
(As they are not asham’d to own)
Yet we saw neither butcher’s meat,
Nor fish, nor fowl, nor aught to eat.
Once in seven years, they say, there’s plenty,
When strangers come to represent ye.
Hard at The Swans had been our fare,
But that some Harwich men were there,
Who lately had some lobsters taken,
With which, and eke some eggs and bacon,
Our bellies we design to fill;
But first will clamber up the hill,
A most delightful spot of ground,
O’erlooking all the country round;
On which there formerly has been
The palace of Philippa, queen
To the third Edward, as they tell,
Now nought remains on’t but a well:
But ’tis from hence, says common fame,
The borough gets its royal name.
Two sailors at this well we meet,
And do each other kindly greet:
“What brings you here, my lads?” cry we.
“Thirst, please your honours, as you see;
For (adds the spokesman) we are here
Waiting for our young officer,
A midshipman on board The Rose,
(For General S——’s son he goes)
We and our messmates, six in all,
Yesterday brought him in our yawl,
And when, as we had been commanded,
Quite safe and dry we had him landed,
By running of her fast aground
At tide of ebb, he quickly found
That he might go and see Sheerness,
So here he left us pennyless,
To feast on Queenborough air and water,
Or starve, to him ’tis no great matter;
While he among his friends at ease is,
And will return just when he pleases;
Perhaps he may come back to-day;
If not, he knows that we must stay.”
So one of us gave him a tester,
When both cried out, “God bless you, master!”
Then ran to rouse their sleeping fellows,
To share their fortune at the alehouse.
Hence to the creek-side, one and all,
We go to see The Rose’s yawl,
And found her bedded in the mud,
Immovable till tide of flood.
The sailors here had cockles got,
Which gratefully to us they brought,
’Twas all with which they could regale us;
This t’ other sixpence sent to th’ alehouse:
So merrily they went their way,
And we were no less pleas’d than they.
At seven about the town we walk,
And with some pretty damsels talk,
Beautiful nymphs indeed, I ween,
Who came to see, and to be seen.
Then to our Swans returning, there
We borrow’d a great wooden chair,
And plac’d it in the open street,
Where, in much state did Hogarth sit
To draw the townhouse, church, and steeple,
Surrounded by a crowd of people;
Tag, rag, and bobtail, stood quite thick there,
And cry’d, “What a sweet pretty picture!”
This was not finish’d long before
We saw, about the Mayor’s fore-door,
Our honest sailors in a throng:
We call’d one of them from among
The rest, to tell us the occasion;
Of which he gave us this relation:
“Our midshipman is just come back,
And chanc’d to meet or overtake
A sailor walking with a woman
(May be she’s honest, may be common):
He thought her handsome, so his honour
Would needs be very sweet upon her:
But this the seaman would not suf-
-fer, and this put him in a huff.
‘Lubber, avast,’ says sturdy John,
‘Avast, I say, let her alone;
You shall not board her, she’s my wife.
Sheer off, Sir, if you love your life:
I’ve a great mind your back to lick;’
And up he held his oaken stick.
“Our midship hero this did scare:
I’ll swear the peace before the Mayor,”
Says he, so to the Mayor’s they trudge:
How such a case by such a judge
Determin’d was I cannot say,
We thought it not worth while to stay:
For it strikes nine, “How th’ evening spends
“Come, let us drink to all our friends
A chearful glass, and eat a bit.”
So to our supper down we sit,
When something merry check’d our mirth:
The Harwich men had got a birth
Closely adjoining to our room,
And were to spend their evening come:
The wall was thin, and they so near,
That all they say, or sing, we hear.
We sung our songs, we crack’d our jokes,
Their emulation this provokes;
And they perform’d so joyously,
As distanc’d hollow all our glee;
So (were it not a bull) I’d say,
This night they fairly won the day.
Now plenteously we drink of flip,
In hopes we shall the better sleep;
Some rest the long day’s work requires;
Scott to his lodging first retires;
His landlady is waiting for him,
And to his chamber walks before him;
In her fair hand a light she bears,
And shows him up the garret-stairs;
Away comes he greatly affronted,
And his disgrace to us recounted,
This makes us game, we roast him for it,
“Scott’s too high-minded for a garret.”
But Tothall more humanely said,
“Come, Scott, be easy, take my bed,
And to your garret I will go.”
(This great good-nature sure did show)
There finding nought him to entertain
But a flock-bed without a curtain,
He too in haste came back, and got
Away to share his bed with Scott,
And at eleven each goes to nest,
Till Tuesday morn to take his rest.
At six comes Hogarth, “Rise, Sirs, rise,”
Says he, with roguery in his eyes,
“Scott’s landlady is below stairs;
And roundly the good woman swears,
That for his lodging he shall pay,
(Where his tir’d bones he scorn’d to lay)
Or he should go before the Mayor.”
She’s in the right on’t, we declare,
For this would cut the matter short,
(At least ’twould make us special sport);
But here she balk’d us, and, no doubt,
Had wit enough to find us out.
Our mark thus miss’d, we kindly go
To see how he and Tothall do.
We find the doors all open were,
(It seems that’s not unusual here)
They’re very well, but Scott last night
Had been in a most dreadful fright:
“When to his room he got,” he said,
“And just was stepping into bed,
He thought he saw the bed-cloaths stir,
So back he flew in mortal fear;
But, taking heart of grace, he try’d
To feel what ’twas, when out it cry’d;
Again he starts, but to his joy
It prov’d a little harmless boy,
Who by mistake had thither crept,
And soundly (till he wak’d him) slept.
So from his fears recover’d quite,
He got to sleep, and slept all night.”
We laugh at this, and he laughs too,
For, pray, what better could he do?
At ten we leave our Lion-Swans,
And to the higher lands advance,
Call on our laundress by the way,
For the led shirts left yesterday
To wash; “She’s sorry, they’re not yet
Quite dry!”—“Why then we’ll take them wet
They’ll dry and iron’d be, we hope,
At Minster, where we next shall stop.”
The way was good, the weather fair,
The prospects most delightful were.
To Minster got, with labour hard
We climb’d the hill to the church-yard,
But, when arriv’d there, did not fail
To read some verses on a rail
Well worth transcribing, we agree,
Whether you think so, you may see.
“Here interr’d George Anderson doth lye,
By fallen on an anchor he did dye
In Sheerness yard on Good Friday
The 6th of April, I do say,
All you that read my allegy be alwaies
Ready for to dye—aged 42 years.”
Of monuments that here they shew
Within the church, we drew but two;
One an ambassador of Spain’s,
T’other Lord Shorland’s dust contains,
Of whom they have a wondrous story,
Which (as they tell) I’ll lay before ye.
[349]The Lord of Shorland, on a day,
Chancing to take a ride this way,
About a corpse observ’d a crowd,
Against their priest complaining loud,
That he would not the service say
Till somebody his fees should pay.
On this his lordship too did rave,
And threw the priest into the grave,
“Make haste and fill it up,” said he,
“We’ll bury both without a fee.”
But when got home, and cool, reflecting
On the strange part he had been acting,
He drew a state up of the case,
Humbly petitioning for grace,
And to the sea gallop’d away,
Where, at that time, a frigate lay,
With Queen Elizabeth on board,
When (strange to tell!) this hare-brain’d Lord
On horseback swam to the ship’s side,
And there to see the Queen apply’d.
His case she reads; her royal breast
Is mov’d to grant him his request.
His pardon thankfully he takes,
And, swimming still, to land he makes:
But on his riding up the beach,
He an old woman met, a witch:
“This horse, which now your life doth save,
Says she, “will bring you to the grave.”
“You’ll prove a liar,” says my lord,
“You ugly hag!” and with his sword
(Acting a most ungrateful part)
His panting steed stabb’d to the heart.
It happen’d, after many a day,
That with some friends he stroll’d that way,
And this strange story, as they walk,
Became the subject of their talk:
When, “There the carcase lies,” he cry’d,
“Upon the beach by the sea side.”
As ’twas not far, he led them to’t,
And kick’d the skull up with his foot,
When a sharp bone pierc’d through his shoe,
And wounded grievously his toe,
Which mortify’d; so he was kill’d,
And the hag’s prophecy fulfill’d.
See there his cross-legg’d figure laid,
And near his feet the horse’s head!
The tomb[350] is of too old a fashion
To tally well with this narration;
But of the truth we would not doubt,
Nor put our Cicerone out:
It gives a moral hint at least,
That gratitude’s due to a beast.
So far it’s good, whoever made it,
And that it may not fail of credit,
A horsehead vane adorns the steeple,
And it’s Horse-church call’d by the people.
Our shirts dry’d at The George we get,
We dine there, and till four we sit;
And now in earnest think of home;
So to Sheerness again we come,
Where for a bum-boat we agree,
And about five put off to sea.
We presently were under sail,
The tide our friend, south-east the gale,
Quite wind enough, and some to spare,
But we to that accustom’d were.
When we had now got past The Nore,
And lost the sight of Shepey’s shore,
The ebbing tide of Thames we met,
The wind against it fiercely set;
This made a short and tumbling sea,
And finely toss’d indeed were we.
The porpoises in stormy weather
Are often seen in shoals together
About us while they roll and play,
One in his gambols miss’d his way,
And threw himself so far on shore,
We thought he would get off no more;
But with great straggling, and some pain,
He did, and went to play again.
On this we moralising say,
“How thoughtless is the love of play!”
When we ourselves with sorrow find
Our pleasures too with pain conjoin’d.
For troubles crowd upon us thick;
Our hero, Scott, grows very sick;
Poor Hogarth makes wry faces too
(Worse faces than he ever drew).
You’ll guess what were the consequences,
Not overpleasing to our senses;
And this misfortune was augmented
By Master Tothall’s being acquainted
With the commander of a sloop,
At Holy Haven near The Hope.
“There’s Captain Robinson,” says he,
“A friend, whom I must call and see.”
Up the ship’s side he nimbly goes,
While we lie overwhelm’d with woes,
Sick, and of winds and waves the sport,
But then he made his visit short,
And when a sup of punch he’d got,
Some lighted match to us he brought
A sovereign cordial this, no doubt,
To men whose pipes had long been out.
By seven o’clock our sick recover,
And all are glad this trouble’s over.
Now jovially we sail along,
Our cockswain giving song for song.
But soon our notes are chang’d; we found
Our boat was on Bly-sand aground,
Just in the middle of the river;
Here Tothall shew’d himself quite clever:
And, knowing we must else abide
Till lifted by the flowing tide,
Work’d without skippers, till the boat
Was once more happily afloat.
We all applaud his care and skill,
So do the boatmen his good-will.
Ere long the tide made upward, so
With that before the wind we go,
And, disembarking about ten,
Our Gravesend quarters reach again.
Here Madam, smiling, comes to tell
How glad she is to see us well:
This kind reception we commended;
And now thought all our troubles ended;
But, when for what we want we call,
Something unlucky did befall.
When we our travels first began
Scott (who’s a very prudent man)
Thought a great coat could do no harm,
And in the boat might keep him warm;
So far perhaps you think him right,
As we took water in the night:
But when from hence we took our way
On foot, the latter end of May,
He, quite as reasonably, thought
’Twould be too heavy or too hot;
“I’ll leave it here,” says he, “and take
It with me at our coming back.”
And he most certainly design’d it,
But now the thing was, how to find it?
We told him he had been mistaken,
And did without his hostess reckon.
To him it was no jest; he swore,
“He left it there three days before.”
“This Mrs. Bramble can’t deny.”
“Sir, we shall find it by and by:”
So out she goes, and rends her throat
With “Moll, go find the gem’man’s coat.”
The house Moll searches round and round.
At last, with much ado, ’twas found—
’Twas found, that, to the owner’s cost,
Or Scott’s, the borrow’d coat was lost.
“Coat lost!” says he, stamping and staring.
Then stood like dumb, then fell to swearing:
He curs’d the ill-concluding ramble,
He curs’d Gravesend and mother Bramble.
But, while his rage he thus express’d,
And we his anger made our jest,
Till wrath had almost got the upper-
-hand of his reason, in came supper:
To this at once his stomach turn’d,
No longer it with fury burn’d,
But hunger took the place of rage,
And a good meal did both assuage.
He eat and drank, he drank and eat,
The wine commended, and the meat;
So we did all, and sat so late,
That Wednesday morn we lay till eight.
Tobacco then, and wine provide,
Enough to serve us for this tide.
Get breakfast, and our reckoning pay,
And next prepare for London hey;
So, hiring to ourselves a wherry,
We put off, all alive and merry.
The tide was strong, fair was the wind,
Gravesend is soon left far behind,
Under the tilt on straw we lay,
Observing what a charming day,
There stretch’d at ease we smoke and drink,
Londoners like, and now we think
Our cross adventures all are past,
And that at Gravesend was the last:
But cruel Fate to that says no;
One yet shall Fortune find his foe.
While we (with various prospects cloy’d)
In clouds of smoke ourselves enjoy’d,
More diligent and curious, Scott
Into the forecastle had got,
And took his papers out, to draw
Some ships which right ahead he saw.
There sat he, on his work intent,
When, to increase our merriment,
So luckily we shipp’d a sea,
That he got sous’d, and only he.
This bringing to his mind a thought
How much he wanted his great coat,
Renew’d his anger and his grief;
He curs’d Gravesend, the coat, and thief;
And, still to heighten his regret,
His shirt was in his breeches wet:
He draws it out, and lets it fly,
Like a French ensign, till ’tis dry,
Then, creeping into shelter safe,
Joins with the company and laugh.
Nothing more happen’d worthy note:
At Billingsgate we change our boat,
And in another through bridge get,
By two, to Stairs of Somerset,
Welcome each other to the shore,
To Covent Garden walk once more,
And, as from Bedford Arms we started,
There wet our whistles ere we parted.
With pleasure I observe, none idle
Were in our travels, or employ’d ill.
Tothall, our treasurer, was just,
And worthily discharg’d his trust;
(We all sign’d his accounts as fair;)
Sam Scott and Hogarth, for their share,
The prospects of the sea and land did;
As Thornhill of our tour the plan did;
And Forrest wrote this true relation
Of our five days peregrination.
This to attest, our names we’ve wrote all,
Viz. Thornhill, Hogarth, Scott, and Tothall.

THE END.

Monument in Minster Church to Lord Shorland.

Of whom they have a wondrous story,
Which (as they tell) I’ll lay before ye.

Gostling.

[345] Mr. Nichols’s account of Hogarth.

[346] It is to be regretted that his grace’s picture was not preserved in this collection.

[347] This drawing unluckily has not been preserved.

[348] The Royal Sovereign and Marlborough.

[349] This story is quoted by Mr. Grose in his Antiquities, Vol. II. art. Minster Monastery. “The legend,” says Mr. Grose, “has, by a worthy friend of mine, been hitched into doggrel rhyme. It would be paying the reader but a bad compliment to attempt seriously to examine the credibility of the story.”

[350] A cross-legg’d figure in armour, with a shield over his left arm, like that of a Knight Templar, said to represent Sir Robert de Shurland, who by Edward I. was created a Knight banneret for his gallant behaviour at the siege of Carlaverock in Scotland. He lies under a Gothic arch in the south wall, having an armed page at his feet, and on his right side the head of a horse emerging out of the waves of the sea, as in the action of swimming.—Grose.