Worship Street

I had a meeting on Worship Street this week, and I realised it ran directly between two working-class poets we have mentioned before here on TANH.  To the West, the street ends at Bunhill Fields, where the poet William Blake is buried.  I realise we have posted a lot about Blake over the years, so let's move to the East end.

Where Worship Street meets Norton Folgate, celebrated by Madness and now a Radio 4 play.  And just over the road is Folgate Street, mentioned before, named afterr the Water Poet, John Taylor.

Of course, I'm not claiming that Taylor was as great a poet as Blake, but it is nice to thing of them being joined by this otherwise dull city street.

Between Olympics

Well, not quite.  The Paralympics have in fact started.  But I started this post in the hiatus between the two Games, and I'm not changing the title now.  So:

As I sit here between Olympics, and with the godawful ticketing system still not working properly, and not likely to let us get to see any Paralympic competitions up close in the near future, if at all, it seems a good time, as they say on Thought for Today, to pause and reflect.

We always expected the Olympics to be far, far better, and more worthwhile, than the benighted Jubilee - and they didn't disappoint.  We were on Dartmoor, on holiday, during the Opening Ceremony, which meant we got to watch it on a huge plasma TV.  Which was nice.

As every commentator - well most commentators - have said, it was astonishingly good. 

I have to admit, when I first heard about the bucolic idyll that was being planned, a fantasy English countryside, my heart sank. But even that was enlivened by the rippling blue cloth that covered the stands and allowed us to see the idyll as 'sea-girt'.

And then we tore it all up in the Steam-driven Pandemonium of the Industrial Revolution, led by  Sir Kenneth Branagh as Caliban (a theme for all four ceremonies it seems) - cum - Brunel.  Echoes of Blake and Milton. 

Followed by (in random order):-
- NHS nurses (a great invention from 1948)
- Liberty director Shami Chakrabarti.
- Suffragettes
- Voldemort from Harry Potter,  Rowling and Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang, and Mary Poppins (all representing children's literature?  But no Blyton I could see, nor Ahlberg, nor Kerr). And that section did  cause our 15-y-o to comment along the lines that the good socialist message of the NHS was undermined by the children in beds having to be saved by the privatised care of Mary Poppins...
- Beckham on a speedboat looking terribly stylish, and fireworks on Tower Bridge as it opened to let his ego through...
- The Swinging Sixties and psychedelia
- The Stunt Queen: so much more approachable than the one we have...
- The noise of the Tardis in the middle of another Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody...  (but why?)
- Rowan Atkinson & Simon Rattle in Chariots of Fire
A section on media (ish), introduced by the pips, Radio 4 and the Archers, leading to a house full of film and TV clips -  while decades of our pop and rock played...
- Python and Fawlty Towers, (let's ignore Eric Idle in the Closing Ceremony for the moment)
- A Matter of Life and Death
- Kes
- Gregory's Girl
- Bagpuss
- Queen Who Stones  Beatles
- Madness 
- Mud
- Jetpacks and Tim Berners-Lee
But sadly no Thunderbirds or HHGTTG or Fast Show that I noticed...

All really good fun.  But it did make me realise that we here at TANH appear to have been writing about the London 2012 Olympics Opening Ceremony in half of our postings, without really knowing what we were doing...  It's like we were revising for it.

So is that it?  Do we have to stop writing about all that stuff now?

Blake, Whitman, Peckham

As noted earlier, it was the Alexander Gilchrist biography that first promoted the idea that Blake had seen angels on "Peckham Rye" - probably not exactly where the current Rye is found. 

The biography itself is very well researched, and a model piece of work, but Alexander Gilchrist did not himself live to see it published.  It was completed and seen to print by his wife, Anne - at least partly to memorialise her husband.

Imagine my surprise to find that later Anne Gilchrist developed a passion for Walt Whitman, based on the personality projected in his poems.  She wrote "A Woman's Estimate of Walt Whitman", praising him greatly, and eventually travelled to America to be with him. 

I suspect Americans know all about this story, but I didn't.  Anyway, somehow they became good friends for two years (not intended as a euphemism) while she stayed near him. And then she went back to England and carried on writing.

Dulwich Hill

The above is from the Cary Map of London from 1786.  Click on sheet 35 from the main map. 

As you can see above, this map, published around 30 years after  Blake was born.  As I wrote a few weeks back:

As far as I know the story of Blake seeing the Angels comes only from the Gilchrist biography, written many years after Blake's death, which although excellent in its way does not, I think, have corroboration for this story from the Blake papers.

The location of the sighting (if there was one) is given as Peckham Rye (Dulwich Hill) which some have put closer to Warwick Gardens and not on the present-day Rye itself. So this recognition of an event which we aren't sure happened was probably in the wrong place.

The map, assuming it is reasonably accurate and shows the position roughly as it was in the 1760s, suggests instead that most of Dulwich Hill was further West than that, roughly the locaion of Champion Hill today.  And note the Fox Under the Hill in Cary, which seems to be in the same spot as today's Fox on the Hill.

However, Gilchrist actually writes "on Peckham Rye (by Dulwich Hill)." And if we look at the next sheet of the map, we can see what he might mean:

 The words "Peckham Rye" appear alongside the current day Rye Lane (as I estimate it), just to the east of Dulwich Hill.  Although it does give the sense that it is labelling the green area to the right of the words on the map.  So somewhere around Warwick Gardens, or the Bellenden Rd estate generally, may indeed be correct, or it could be that the "bespangling" was a little further east.

And I still wonder - did Gilchrist actually know the area or was he working from a map like Cary? 

Blake, angels, etc

Last weekend I was at first sorely tempted by the idea of an event the Blake Society were holding on Peckham Rye.  It was a tree-planting ceremony, in memory of the story of the young William Blake seeing angels on the Rye - in "a tree filled with angels, bright angelic wings bespangling every bough like stars."

But it clashed with something else we had planned, so I hemmed and hawed (is that right?) - and when I thought further about it, I realised:

As far as I know the story of Blake seeing the Angels comes only from the Gilchrist biography, written many years after Blake's death, which although excellent in its way does not, I think, have corroboration for this story from the Blake papers.

The location of the sighting (if there was one) is given as Peckham Rye (Dulwich Hill) which some have put closer to Warwick Gardens and not on the present-day Rye itself.  So this recognition of an event which we aren't sure happened was probably in the wrong place.

A Mexican artist appears to be involved. Now, I have no objection to Mexican artists in general of course, but I couldn't work out her relevance to this event.  So this mis-located celebration of an event for which we have no evidence that it ever happened, appeared somewhat unrelated to the original thing it celebrated.

So I didn't feel moved to go after all.

Poem of the Week

Jerusalem
William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land.

Jolly Saturday Morn

I must say I found this Saturday morning's Radio 4 programmes most enjoyable.  I know that sounds awful - middle-class, Home Counties, etc.  Well, tough, is my considered reply - I still enjoyed it.

Firstly the new Honours list.  And in my view this is nothing about Brenda or any other member of the Royal family, nor about empire (despite the awful names for some of the Homours).  It is just about recognition.  So you can still be pleased when people you like or know get recognised.

Thus, I was happy that the morning News bothered to highlight the two Goodies (Garden and Brooke-Taylor).  Billoddie has one already (for Wildlife stuff) - but this was either for ISIHAC or The Goodies.  I'm pleased with either.  

Bruce Forsyth I can take or leave, and also Jenny Murray.  But a large Hurrah! for the Bernard Cribbins OBE (for services to Drama - presumably that can encompass everything, including The Wombles, Right Said Fred!, the Railway Children and Doctor Who).

Today and the News was followed by 'Your Desert Island Discs' - so I'm already cheered up there was no Saturday Live this week.  A top eight of discs chosen by listeners to DID: self-selecting and unrepresentative, of course. 

I tried to predict what would be in the list, but mis-read almost all of the winners, which were:

1 Ralph Vaughan Williams - The Lark Ascending
2 Sir Edward Elgar - Enigma Variations
3 Ludwig van Beethoven - Symphony No 9 in D minor 'Choral'
4 Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody
5 Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb
6 Sir Edward Elgar - Cello Concerto in E Minor
7 George Frideric Handel - Messiah
8 Gustav Holst - The Planets

OK - I worked out Bo Rap, Ode to Joy and the Planets.  But The Lark Ascending? Comfortably Numb? (sounds like a write-in campaign), the Elgar Cello?

The Beatles weren't there because there were just too many choose from (it seemed they were easily the most popular artists but spread too thinly).  But as the list was slowly unveiled, and it became clear that there was a bias towards the English, and to what I would call 'Big Sounds', I guessed the number one would be Jerusalem.  Hopelessly wrong of course.  Probably over-influenced by my walk around Bunhill Fields earlier in the week.

But it was good fun, even if only two of the choices would have been in my top eight.  (Actually that is not a bad average - your personal choice is meant to be exactly that, personal, so it'd be surprising and rather sad if too many overlapped with the most popular, common denominator choices).

One complaint: I wish the BBC DID Website showed more detail - the top 100 say?
And finally, Lenny Henry explored Chaucer as part of his 'What's So Great About...' series.  I have to admit I was surprised. He normally chooses a topic with a little more general popular presence (if I can call it that).  Not that I was at all displeased, of course.

It was a fun listen, including an excerpt from Neville Coghill, Terry Jones being himself (discussing the colloquialism and the jokes), and many others.  And of course, in addition to Canterbury, it had to be set in South London, mostly on the site of the Tabard and then round the corner in (I think) The George. Absolutely fantastic.

And then I had to get up...

Bunhill Fields

I've been on an IT course this week, just off the City Road on Tabernacle St. 

This is the City Road:-

(although surprisingly lacking in cars, it seems, when I took this photo).

It was a good course, and I took the opportunity on one of the days to have a look at Bunhill Fields - which is quietly amazing.

I can't claim to know the history well.  It is the former Dissenters' burial ground and contains the graves of many Nonconformists.  Here are just a few of the more famous:

John Bunyan (note Pilgrim),

Daniel Defoe (this monument was erected some time after his death as the base shows),

and William Blake.  The headstone commemorates him and his wife, but it isn't exactly where he is buried (and it says 'nearby' for misleading reasons). 

The "Friends of William Blake" give detailed instructions - if perhaps a little trainspotterish - on how to find his grave site.  If I've got it right, it is somewhere around here (roughly):-

Nowadays, Bunhill (once the 'Bone Hill', I gather, and the graves were very densely packed in), is a rare, quiet and tranquil, green place in the City, and lots of people were just sitting eating sandwiches and reading the paper. But I wandered around, exploring.

... and then I came across something rather surprising...

I didn't go looking for this headstone - nor was it fenced off like some parts of Bunhill Fields.  I just turned around and there it was. 

William Shrubsole - as it says - was known for writing a hymn called 'Miles Lane' and he was the organist at Spa Fields Chapel. (Note, he also had a well-known son of the same name - which can make some of the historical commentaries a little confusing).

The other people commemorated here are John Benjamin Tolkien and his wife Mary.  Wikipedia currently - and rather lazily - claims he is the grandfather of  JRR Tolkien, but the dates are all wrong.    

JRRT's grandfather was also a John Benjamin, but he was born, in 1807 - and he also took a wife called Mary (but she was born in 1834; she was his second wife) - and he is buried in Staffordshire.  The records seem to show JRRT's paternal great grandfather as Geroge William Tolkien. It is possible that the Tolkien who is buried here was related - possibly a father or uncle.

At the time I saw the stone, I didn't know all this of course, so I just sat and thought about the possibility of a relationship, and how "Miles Lane" sounded (I can't read music).  JRR Tolkien would have liked the trees that surround the graves.

Directly outside the entrance to Bunhill Fields is the Wesley Chapel and Museum (John Wesley is apparently buried around the back).

It is hardly surprising the course I had was in Tabernacle Street!

Finally, I noticed this building sitting incongrously beside the cemetery:

There seemed to be a few military personnel hanging around, and it claimed, believably to be the headquarters of the "Honourable Artillery Company". 

But by then I was in a very Dissenting frame of mind, and I found myself wondering if that really meant they didn't shell to kill - just artillery for sport....

Poem of the Week

William Blake
James Thomson

He came to the desert of London town
Gray miles long;
He wandered up and he wandered down,
Singing a quiet song.
He came to the desert of London town,
Mirk miles broad;
He wandered up and he wandered down,
Ever alone with God.

There were thousands and thousands of human kind
In this desert of brick and stone;
But some were deaf and some were blind,
And he was there alone.
At length the good hour came; he died
As he had lived, alone.
He was not missed from the desert wide;
Perhaps he was found at the throne.

1866

Bunhill Fields, Missing Bones

There has been a little bit of a splash about the recent Grade I Listing of the Bunhill Fields nonconformist cemetary.  The final resting place of Bunyan, Blake, Defoe, Isaac Watts, Thomas Newcomen and others.

Although the headstone is easy to find, The Guardian article referenced above says of Blake's actual grave that:

His bones were lost in a partial clearance and landscaping in the 19th century and the original sites of more burials were lost as a result of 1960s landscaping to repair second world war bomb damage.

In fact, the Blake Society thinks it knows where they are - see here for the link to the detailed guide.

Poem of the Week

London
William Blake

I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Poem of the Week

Mad Blake
William Rose Benet

Blake saw a treeful of angels at Peckham Rye,
And his hands could lay hold on the tiger's terrible heart.
Blake knew how deep is Hell, and Heaven how high,
And could build the universe from one tiny part.
Blake heard the asides of God, as with furrowed brow
He sifts the star-streams between the Then and the Now,
In vast infant sagacity brooding, an infant's grace
Shining serene on his simple, benignant face.

Blake was mad, they say, -- and Space's Pandora-box
Loosed its wonders upon him -- devils, but angels indeed.
I, they say, am sane, but no key of mine unlocks
One lock of one gate wherethrough Heaven's glory is freed.
And I stand and I hold my breath, daylong, yearlong,
Out of comfort and easy dreaming evermore starting awake, --
Yearning beyond all sanity for some echo of that Song
Of Songs that was sung to the soul of the madman, Blake!