Darton’s Nursery Songs
I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Nick Darton whose ancestor William Darton Junior (1781 – 1854) was a publisher in the City of London two hundred years ago and published these charming Nursery Songs on June 15th 1818.
The Juvenile Review described it as ‘A very foolish book, ….. what, for instance, can be more ridiculous than the idea of “a dish running after a spoon,” or the moon being in a fit?’ yet it was published in many editions over the next fifty years and numerous other publishers followed in a similar tradition.
William Darton Junior attended the Friends School in Clerkenwell but was removed at the age of eight to help in his father’s publishing business in Gracechurch St. After two years, he was sent to Ackworth School in Yorkshire before returning to London when he began his apprenticeship with his father at the age of fourteen. He showed early promise as an engraver and was adding his signature his own work even before his full seven years of apprenticeship were up. In 1804, he left his father’s business in his early twenties to set up by himself at Holborn Hill, concentrating on the publication of children’s books, games, educational aids, pastimes and juvenile ephemera.
Let us go the wood, says this pig
What to do there? says this pig & c.
When the bough breaks,
The cradle will fall,
And sown will come cradle
And baby and all.
To bed, to bed, says sleepy head.
Let’s stay awhile says slow,
Put on the pot, says greedy gut.
We’ll sup before we go.
See Saw Margery Daw
Pat it and prick it and mark it with C
And then it will serve for Charley or me.
The Clock struck one,
The mouse came down,
Hickory Diccary Dock.
Who comes here? A Grenadier
What do you want? A pot of beer
Where’s your money? I’ve forgot
Get you gone, you drunken sot.
Cushy Cow bonny, let down thy milk.
Jack & Jill
Baa baaa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Little Jack Horner
The Lion & The Unicorn
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree
Little boy blue, blow your horn
The cat’s run away with the pudding bag string
There was an old woman, she lived in a shoe
Ding Dong Bell, Pussy Cat’s in the Well
The Man in the Moon
The little husband
There was a little man & he had a little gun
Little Johnny Pringle
Taffy was a Welchman, Taffy was a Thief
Four & Twenty Blackbirds baked in a pye
He’ll sit in a barn
And keep himself warm
And hide his head under
his wing, Poor Thing!
Images courtesy of Nick Darton
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The Invigilators Of Spitalfields
Have you ever wondered what goes through the minds of those implacable silent invigilators who stand sentinel, presiding over the rooms at Dennis Severs House? I spoke with some of them recently when Lucinda Douglas Menzies did their portraits and discovered that, despite their unassuming demeanours, they each had quite a lot to say.
Emily Ball
‘I am studying History of Art at the Courtauld, specialising in Performance Art, its history and evolution from Loïe Fuller to the present day.
Even aside from the performances that take place here, I see Dennis Severs’ House itself is a kind of performance that amounts to a self-portrait. This was his world and his mind, literalised as a house. You are walking into his imagination. He was living his performance through his life which ties in to notions of ‘endurance performance’ – although it was clearly not endurance for him because he seems to have loved it so much!
It became so much more than a performance because it was his life. I think what he did is unique. For a lot of the performances I study there is little physical evidence, but he managed to immortalise his vision in a house and because of the Spitalfields Trust it is saved for everyone for perpetuity. We are really lucky to have it because there are so many performances that are lost, you had to be there or there was no audience so nobody knows about them.
When I experienced one of the tours here, I thought it was going be a guide taking us through the history in each room but actually it was it this astonishing performance that brought to life Dennis Severs’ vision. I loved how startling it was with loud noises, banging on the door and the shouting outside.
If I had to live in a time in the past, I would live at the court of Charles II because of the masques that he staged. I would have loved to have been a part of those, the theatre, the amazing costumes, the fun and the parties.’
Rory Henderson
‘I am a Stage Manager working in theatre production but I did my degree in English Literature, focussing on eighteenth century aestheticism and I came across Dennis Severs’ House through that. There’s actually a course which sends students here to get an idea of the notion of ‘textured performance,’ with performance being alive in the setting of a house. That is what is unique about Dennis Severs’ House.
I came here because I wanted to learn more abut this world and Dennis Severs. I had not realised before that there was such an important site in Queer History on my doorstep and I was keen to have the opportunity to work here.
It’s fun because I work with people from such interesting and different backgrounds and we are all here together in this house, making it come alive for people. Theatre tends to very linear in form but this is beyond anything I have ever experienced. It has been a learning curve to work out how to manoeuvre around so many fragile and old props.
If I had to live in the past – as long as it was not forever – I would go back to the late eighteenth century because I studied it and I already know so much about it.
Then I could discover for myself what the Readers’ Societies and secret gay literary circles were actually like. I would befriend the people I have been studying who created texts exploring gay eroticism. My dissertation was about anonymous Queer Texts – including ‘The Sins of The Cities of the Plain’ – that were published secretly among societies of writers, and how these underground productions were passed between friends until they became widely popular.’
Amy Haigh
‘I am an Artist and Researcher focusing mainly on themes of Ecology, living and working in South East London. I studied at Camberwell and Royal College of Art , graduating from MA Information Experience Design in 2019. At some point on this journey I transitioned from Environmental Graphic Designer to Artist, and now work from my studio on Old Kent Rd to study and retell ecological narratives, mainly through sculpture and installations.
Working at Dennis Severs’ House, I feel inspired to be in a creative space. Although I come from London I did not know of the house and I was intrigued, I find it quite magical. The house and the tours are all about creating a world and storytelling through use of space, lighting and objects, and this is something that I am deeply interested in.
I like working in an environment that feels far away from the outside world, especially when the visitors are completely engaged. It is an inspiring space and I watch how people go round it and what they notice – people often point out things that I had not seen before.
Watching people walk round and being part of that energy is a really great experience. As an artist, I am fascinated by the process of putting something from your imagination into the world and see how it is viewed, what feedback you get.
If I had to live in a time in the past, I would choose to live in the sixties and the seventies. It was an interesting time and the rebellious nature of that era appeals to me.’
Phoebe Wadman
‘I have just finished my Master’s Degree in Queer History so I am especially interested in this aspect of Dennis Severs’ House. I understand that it is not obvious to everyone but I can see it in the way it has been put together, employing lots of secondhand junk to create this ridiculously over-the-top beautiful interior. The act of doing that is Queer in itself.
When I look at the interiors of this house, I think about the history of HIV and AIDS. I like Simon Pettet’s cheeky tiles in the fireplace of the master bedroom, his tile of copulating bunnies at the kitchen window and the shaving bowl he made. I love Simon’s work and it makes me smile to see these personal touches and be reminded that he was here. I love to see the photos of Dennis too. It is a history that is still hidden in many ways. In London, we do not have a memorial to those who died of AIDS and there is little recognition of what happened. But being surrounded here by this personal history is really touching.
If I had to live in the past, I would choose to live in the nineteen-seventies and eighties – which is not that long ago – because I am fascinated by that time in terms of Queer History, the legal recognition of LGBTQ rights, and the sexual and feminist wars. It is an interesting era that has not gone away but speaks a lot to where we are now.’
Lis Gernerd
‘I have a PhD in Eighteenth Century Dress and Material Culture, so I am really excited to work here because Dennis Severs’ House has a playful way of dealing with history. Objects here are not in glass boxes and there is anachronism. The house is curated to make visitors feel they are entering the past in a way that is not conveyed by traditional museums. The point here is not to be authentic but to give a sense of history.
I love the Smoking Room most at Dennis Severs’ House. I love the scent, it is what gets you first. For me, the scent of tobacco is the most emotive in the house. I also love the textiles in the Smoking Room, my favourite embroidery is there upon the velvet frock coat draped over the chair. It is the room with the most stories to tell.
If I had to live in the past, provided I had the money, I would be happy to live in the late eighteenth century because then all of my research questions could be answered. The seventeen-seventies and eighties are definitely my happy place.’
Sean Wilcox
‘In the early seventies, my father took me to see Christopher Plummer play the Duke of Wellington and Rod Steiger as Napoleon Bonaparte in ‘Waterloo.’ It was a gateway for me and suddenly the past came to life. Then, in 2002, I sought out Dennis Severs’ House and realised I had to become part of it.
I am fascinated by Dennis Severs’ ability to capture the domestic life of eighteenth century Spitalfields. It is not academic like a museum here, it transports you back in time into an aesthetic context and it caught my imagination.
I find, even though I have been here twenty years, the house has an infinity of moods, changing with the seasons.
My relationship with it continues to evolve all the time too, as I become more aware of the different way the light comes through sash windows at different times of the year. The novelty may have worn off but there are constantly new novelties that appear.’
Ottelien Huckin
‘I am a painter. Before the pandemic my work was figurative and I was interested in the Rococo. I used to paint large canvasses but now I work on small pieces and, over the lockdown, I learnt the technique of Japanning – a seventeenth century process which involves thirty layers of varnish, sanded in between and gilded with gold leaf. I wanted to learn something that would slow my practice down, and I like the idea of creating a decorative object rather than a painting. Maybe it was an existential crisis? Because of the pandemic I wanted to create work that would last for hundreds of years.
I moved to London a year ago in the middle of lockdown and I sought a job that would contribute to my art practice. Dennis Severs’ House speaks to me because it is filled with interesting objects and lots of examples of Japanning. I am half-Dutch and I dabble in Delftware, so that element here attracts me too.
I love the eclecticism of it all. I love coming to work where I am able to study an object and try to understand it, learning about different periods in history. I love the Japanned grandfather clock in the hallway at Dennis Severs’ House, I can stare at it for hours because it is so beautiful.
Simon Pettet’s Delftware appeals to me because I appreciate his approach to craft. There is a respect for tradition yet, equally, he is creating narratives and images that related to his life in Spitalfields. It is a lovely combination of the personal and the historic, and I hope my work is a bit like that too.
If I had to live in the past, I would choose the mid-eighteenth century because I love all the clothes in the master bedroom, especially the flower embroidery. To dress up like that every day would be quite nice but, as a woman, I realise whatever time I chose would not permit me as many freedoms as I enjoy today.’
Sam Keelan
‘I am an artist, mainly working in Photography but also Film. I used to be fascinated by camp horror, but now I have shifted my interest to the uncanny and the banal. Originally, I did my Foundation course at Leeds College of Art then Sculpture at Wimbledon and, as my post graduate, I studied Drawing at the Royal Academy for three years.
Coming from Yorkshire, much of my work is about suburban Yorkshire but with a Queer twist. At lot of my photography and writing concerns layers of artifice and fakery, how it can hold something less spectacular or even mundane beneath.
Dennis Severs’ House fascinates me as this space which is set up as if it had been lived in by a family through four generations, yet it was lived in at the same time. It is both fake and real simultaneously, and there is a curious tension between these things. I think it is quite camp to change your whole house into a set that you live within. It contains both aspiration and tragedy in equal measure. While it is really impressive in its own right, it expresses a longing for something unattainable too.
I appreciate the silence at Dennis Severs’ House. As an invigilator, my job is to make sure people do not talk or touch things. I like being in my own head. It feels like solitude in public because there are a lot of people walking around. It is quite a strange experience.
I love the Drawing Room most – you really feel like you walked in and something has just happened. Also I enjoy the Regency Room because the pink colour palette appeals to me.
If I had to live in an era in the past, I would choose Classical Greece. It might be fun because there was so much debauchery and I am attracted to the homoerotic aspects of that world. I am interested by how the Graeco-Roman aesthetic has been filtered through Georgian culture into the present day, where now you might even find bad plastic classical columns and Roman or Greek busts in a spa.’
Portraits copyright © Lucinda Douglas Menzies
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In Old Bow
Mid-ninenteenth century Gothic Cottages in Wellington Way
Taking advantage of the spring sunshine, Antiquarian Philip Mernick led me on a stroll around the parishes of Bromley and Bow last week so that I might photograph just a few of the hidden wonders alongside the more obvious sights.
Edward II granted land to build the chapel in the middle of the road at Bow in 1320 but the nearby Priory of St Leonard’s in Bromley was founded three centuries earlier. These ecclesiastical institutions were the defining landmarks of the villages of Bromley and Bow until both were absorbed into the expanding East End, and the precise locations of these lost territories became a subject of unending debate for residents. More recently, this was the location of the Bryant & May factory where the Match Girls won landmark victories for workers’ rights in manufacturing industry and where many important Suffragette battles were literally fought on the streets, outside Bow Rd Police Station and in Tomlin’s Grove.
Yet none of this history is immediately apparent when you arrive at the handsome tiled Bow Rd Station and walk out to confront the traffic flying by. In the nineteenth century, Bow was laced with an elaborate web of railway lines which thread the streets to this day and wove the ancient villages of Bromley and Bow inextricably into the modern metropolis.
Bow Rd Station opened in 1902
Bow Rd Station with Wellington Buildings towering over
Wellington Buildings 1900, Wellington Way
Wellington Buildings
Suffragette Minnie Lansbury was imprisoned in Holloway and died at the age of thirty-two
Eighteen-twenties terrace in Bow Rd
Bow Rd
Bow Rd
Bow Rd Police Station 1902
Under the railway arches in Arnold Rd
The former Great Eastern Railway Station and Little Driver pub, both 1879
This house in Campbell Rd was built one room thick to fit between the railway and the road
Arnold Rd once extended beyond the railway line
Arnold Rd
Former Poplar Electricity Generating Station
Railway Bridge leading to the ‘Bow Triangle’
In the ‘Bow Triangle,’ an area surrounded on three sides by railway lines
Handsome nineteenth century villas for City workers in Mornington Grove
Former coach house in Mornington Grove
Bollard of Limehouse Poor Commission 1836 in Kitcat Terrace
Last fragment of Bow North London Railway Station in the Enterprise Rental car park
Edward II gave the land for this chapel of ease in 1320
In the former Bromley Town Hall, 1880
Former Bow Co-operative Society in Bow Rd, 1919
The site of St Leonard’s Priory founded in the eleventh century and believed to have been the origin of Chaucer’s Prioress in the ‘Canterbury Tales’ – now ‘St Leonard’s Adventurous Playground’
Kingsley Hall where Mahatma Ghandi stayed when he visited the East End in 1931
Arch by William Kent (c. 1750) removed from Northumberland House on the Embankment in 1900
Draper’s Almshouses built in 1706 to deliver twelve residences for the poor
The refurbished Crossways Estate, scene of recent alleged election skullduggery
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Viscountess Boudica’s Easter
On Easter Monday, we celebrate our dearly beloved Viscountess Boudica of Bethnal Green who once entertained us with her seasonal frolics and capers but is now exiled to Uttoxeter
She may be no Spring chicken but that never stopped the indefatigable Viscountess Boudica of Bethnal Green from dressing up as an Easter chick!
As is her custom at each of the festivals which mark our passage through the year, she embraced the spirit of the occasion wholeheartedly – festooning her tiny flat with seasonal decor and contriving a special outfit for herself that suited the tenor of the day. “Easter’s about renewal – birth, life and death – the end of one thing and the beginning of another,” she assured me when I arrived, getting right to the heart of it at once with characteristic forthrightness.
I felt like a child visiting a beloved grandmother or favourite aunt whenever I call round to see Viscountess Boudica because, although I never knew what treats lie in store, I was never disappointed. Even as I walked in the door, I knew that days of preparation preceded my visit. Naturally for Easter there were a great many fluffy creatures in evidence, ducks and rabbits recalling her rural childhood. “When my uncle had his farm, I used to put the little chicks in my pocket and carry them round with me,” she confided with a nostalgic grin, as she led me over to admire the wonder of her Easter garden where yellow creatures of varying sizes were gathering upon a small mat of greengrocer’s grass, around a tree hung with glass eggs, as if in expectation of a sacred ritual.
I cast my eyes around at the plethora of Easter cards, testifying to the popularity of the Viscountess, and her Easter bunting and Easter fairy lights that adorned the walls. There could be no question that the festival was anything other than Easter in this place. “As a child, I used to get a twig and spray it with paint and hang eggs from it,” she explained, recalling the modest origin of the current extravaganza and adding, “I hope this will inspire others to decorate their homes.”
“Cadbury’s Dairy Milk is my favourite,” she confessed to me, chuckling in excited anticipation and patting her waistline warily, “I probably will eat a lot of chocolate on Easter Monday – once I start eating chocolate, I can’t stop.” And then, just like that beloved grandmother or favourite aunt, Viscountess Boudica kindly slipped a chocolate egg into my hands, as I said my farewell and carried it off under my arm back to Spitalfields as a proud trophy of the day.
Viscountess Boudica writes her Easter cards
“yellow creatures of varying sizes were gathering upon a small mat of greengrocer’s grass, around a tree hung with glass eggs, as if in expectation of a sacred ritual”
Viscountess Boudica turns Weather Girl to present the forecast for the Easter Bank Holiday – “I predict a dull start with a few patches of sunshine and some isolated showers. In the West Country, it will be nice all day with temperatures between sixty and eighty degrees Farenheit. There will be a small breeze on the coast and sea temperature of around fifty-nine degrees Farenheit.”
Easter blessings to you from Viscountess Boudica!
Viscountess Boudica and her fluffy friends
Be sure to follow Viscountess Boudica’s blog There’s More To Life Than Heaven & Earth
Take a look at
The Departure of Viscountess Boudica
Viscountess Boudica’s Domestic Appliances
Viscountess Boudica’s Halloween
Viscountess Boudica’s Christmas
Viscountess Boudica’s Valentine’s Day
Viscountess Boudica’s St Patrick’s Day
Read my original profile of Mark Petty, Trendsetter
and take a look at Mark Petty’s Multicoloured Coats
Bluebells At Bow Cemetery
With a few bluebells in flower in my garden in Spitalfields, I was inspired make a visit to Bow Cemetery and view the display of bluebells sprouting under the tall forest canopy that has grown over the graves of the numberless East Enders buried there. In each season of the the year, this hallowed ground offers me an arcadian refuge from the city streets and my spirits always lift as I pass between the ancient brick walls that enclose it, setting out to lose myself among the winding paths, lined by tombstones and overarched with trees.
Equivocal weather rendered the timing of my trip as a gamble, and I was at the mercy of chance whether I should get there and back in sunshine. Yet I tried to hedge my bets by setting out after a shower and walking quickly down the Whitechapel Rd beneath a blue sky of small fast-moving clouds – though, even as I reached Mile End, a dark thunderhead came eastwards from the City casting gloom upon the land. It was too late to retrace my steps and instead I unfurled my umbrella in the cemetery as the first raindrops fell, taking shelter under a horse chestnut, newly in leaf, as the shower became a downpour.
Standing beneath the dripping tree in the half-light of the storm, I took a survey of the wildflowers around me, primroses spangling the green, the white star-like stitchwort adorning graves, a scattering of palest pink ladies smock highlighting the ground cover, yellow celandines sharp and bright against the dark green leaves, violets and wild strawberries nestling close to the earth and may blossom and cherry blossom up above – and, of course, the bluebells’ hazy azure mist shimmering between the lines of stones tilting at irregular angles. Alone beneath the umbrella under the tree in the heart of the vast graveyard, I waited. It was the place of death, but all around me there was new growth.
Once the rain relented sufficiently for me to leave my shelter, I turned towards the entrance in acceptance that my visit was curtailed. The pungent aroma of wild garlic filled the damp air. But then – demonstrating the quick-changing weather that is characteristic of April – the clouds were gone and dazzling sunshine descended in shafts through the forest canopy turning the wet leaves into a million tiny mirrors, reflecting light in a vision of phantasmagoric luminosity. Each fresh leaf and petal and branch glowed with intense colour after the rain. I stood still and cast my eyes around to absorb every detail in this sacred place. It was a moment of recognition that has recurred throughout my life, the awe-inspiring rush of growth of plant life in England in spring.
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Find out more at www.towerhamletscemetery.org
Easter Procession In Stepney
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Every Easter, George & Dunstan, donkeys at Stepney City Farm enjoy an outing when they join the Parishioners of St Dunstan’s for the annual procession around the vicinity on Palm Sunday – and, one year, Contributing Photographer Colin O’Brien & I joined the enthusiastic throng on a cold and grey spring morning.
Walking down from Whitechapel, Colin & I followed Stepney Way, which was once a path across the fields used by worshippers when St Dunstan’s was the parish church for the whole of Tower Hamlets. St Dunstan founded it in 952 and it stands today as earliest surviving building after the Tower on this side of London.
At the old stone church, we discovered the wardens were eager to show us their ancient silver, a mace and a staff, with images of St Dunstan, the Tower and a Galleon referring to the days when this was the parish of seafarers. Once, all those who were born or died at sea were entered here in the parish register.
Curate Chris Morgan led off across the churchyard along the fine avenue of plane trees, swinging incense and followed by church wardens, sidesmen, George & Dunstan the donkeys, members of the parish and a solo trumpeter, with the Rector Trevor Critchlow bringing up the rear.
Anyone still nursing a hangover from Saturday night might have been astounded to be awoken by the sound of a heavenly host, and parted the curtains to discover this rag tag parade. Yet it was a serious commemoration of Christ’s entry into Jerusalem in which the streets of Stepney became transformed into the Via Sacra for a morning.
They marched through the empty terraced streets, past the large development site, turned left at the curry restaurant, passing the pizza takeaway and the beauty parlour, before turning left again at the youth centre to re-enter the churchyard. Then there was just time to pet the donkeys before they filed into the church to warm up again and begin Sunday morning prayers. And this was how Easter began in Stepney.
St Dunstan with his metalworkers’ tongs on top of the seventeenth century mace
A galleon upon an eighteenth century staff is a reminder St Dunstan’s was the parish of seafarers
Tower of London upon the reverse of the staff
Sidesmens’ batons from the era of George IV
Julian Cass, Sidesman
Jenny Ellwood, Sidesperson, and Sarah Smith, Parish Clerk
Trevor Critchlow, Rector of St Dunstan’s
Curate Chris Morgan leads the procession
Photographs copyright © Estate of Colin O’Brien
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Nativity Procession In Spitalfields
Easter Flowers At St Dunstan’s
Tony Bock’s East Enders
Clock Winder at Christ Church, Spitalfields
Here are the East Enders of the nineteen seventies as pictured by photographer Tony Bock in the days when he worked for the East London Advertiser – the poncy dignitaries, the comb-over tories, the kids on the street, the market porters, the fascists, the anti-fascists, the shopkeepers, the sheet metal workers, the unions, the management, the lone dancers, the Saturday shoppers, the Saturday drinkers, the loving family, the West Ham supporters, the late bride, the wedding photographer, the clock winder, the Guinness tippler, the solitary clown, the kneeling politician and the pie & mash shop cat.
Welcome to the teeming masses. Welcome to the infinite variety of life. Welcome to the exuberant clear-eyed vision of Tony Bock. Welcome to the East End of fifty years ago.
Dignitaries await the arrival of the Queen Mother at Toynbee Hall. John Profumo kneels.
Children playing on the street in Poplar.
On the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral.
National Front supporters gather at Brick Lane.
Watching a National Front march in Hackney.
Shopkeepers come out to watch an anti-racism march in Hackney.
A family in Stratford pose in their back yard.
Wedding photographer in Hackney – the couple had been engaged many years.
West Ham fans at Upton Park, not a woman to be seen.
Sports club awards night in Hackney.
Dancers in Victoria Park.
Conservative party workers in the 1974 electoral campaign, Ilford.
Ted Heath campaigns in Ilford for the General Election of 1974.
Ford workers union meeting, Dagenham.
Ford managers, Dagenham.
Press operator at Ford plant, Dagenham.
At Speakers’ Corner, Hyde Park.
Mr East End Contest at E1 Festival.
The shop cat at Kelly’s Pie & Mash Shop, Bethnal Green Rd.
At the White Swan in Poplar.
Enjoying a Guinness in the Royal Oak, Bethnal Green.
Boy on demolition site, Tiller Rd, Isle of Dogs.
Brick Lane Sunday Market.
Clown in Stratford Broadway.
Saturday morning at Roman Rd Market.
Saturday night out in Dagenham.
Spitalfields Market porter in the workers’ club
Photographs copyright © Tony Bock
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