Ink Seller, c1759 by Paul Sandby © Museum of London From Friday the new Street Cries exhibition about London’s eighteenth century poor opens here at the Museum of London. The Cries refers to the different occupations of the beggarly street-sellers depicted, and the shouts they would have used to advertise their wares. Cries were issued by various artists throughout the century with varying degrees of success, and are meant to represent different types of people who dwelt upon the margins of Georgian London. As the urban population increased throughout the period, so did the fear of poverty and vagrancy and the nature […]
Welcome to the Museum of London blog - insightful and interesting digital content from our team.
Browse the blog, join in the conversation, and if you want to know more about the museum visit the main site.
The story of London Tweed
So this is how the story goes. In 1826 a London merchant decides to buy some cloth from a weaver in Hawick, a town in the Scottish borders famous for its cloth production. Very happy with his order, he decides to get some more but – crucially – misreads the weaver’s dashed handwriting. Instead of ‘twill’ this Londoner reads ‘tweed’, and assumes this new cloth must take after the River Tweed which runs fast and clear through the textile areas of lower Scotland. ‘Tweed’ and not ’twill’ has been the term used ever since.
The Great Dock Strike – 125 years on
“The St. Lawrence is mere water. The Missouri muddy water. The Thames is liquid history.” So declared John Burns – a great advocate of London’s history – when asked to compare the Thames against those other great rivers in 1929. Forty years earlier in 1889 Burns had been a towering figurehead of the Great Dock Strike, thus sealing his own place in those murky waters. As the 125th anniversary of the strike approaches (14 August – 16 September) it feels an opportune moment to reflect on what this particular passage of liquid history might mean today.
Rhinestones and Nylon Net
Ever since watching The King and I (1956 version) at a very impressionable age, I have been rather fond of dancing (and crinolines – but that’s another story). My grandmothers and I spent many happy hours marvelling at the clothes, hairstyles and make-up of the participants in the World Championships broadcast on television.