,,london ,,impressions       ,,london   
,,impressions    ,,etchings ,,and       
,,pictures   ,,in ,,photogravure ,,by   
,,william ,,hyde    ,,and ,,essays ,,by 
,,alice ,,meynell     ,illustration     
,,westminster   ,,archibald ,,constable 
,,and ,,co4   #b ,,whitehall ,,gardens  
#ahih     ,illustration3 ,a ,cheap      
,market4  ,swan ,electric ,engraving ,co
   ,,list ,,of ,,pictures  ,,full-,,page
 ,,plates     ,,the ,,river             
,,etching           ,frontispiece       
,,westminster ,,abbey                   
,,photogravure    facing page  #b       
,,terrible ,,london                 ,do4
                      #d    ,,an        
,,impression                   ,do4     
#f    ,,end ,,of ,a ,,winter ,,day      
,do4                      #h            
,,utilitarian ,,london              ,do4
                     #aj    ,,kensington
 ,,gardens              ,do4            
#ab    ,,night ,,scene1 ,,bermondsey    
,do4                     #ad    ,,the   
,,clock ,,tower1 ,,westminster    ,do4  

#af    ,,st4 ,,paul',s ,,at ,,dawn      
,do4                     #ah            
,,waterloo ,,bridge                 ,do4
                     #bj    ,,below     
,,bridge                    ,do4        
#bb    ,,st4 ,,paul',s ,,from ,,watling 
,,street  ,do4                     #bd  
,,the ,,victoria ,,tower                
,do4                     #bh            
,,plates ,,in ,,the ,,text     ,,st4    
,,paul',s ,,in ,a ,,storm               
,,photogravure     ,on ,title-page    ,a
 ,,cheap ,,market                  ,do4 
page  v    ,a ,,forgotten ,,corner      
,do4                      #a    ,,the   
,,nerves ,,of ,,london            ,do4  
#f    ,,the ,,embankment ,,at ,,night   
,do4                      #i    ,,trees 
,,etching                      #ab      
,,the ,,last ,,boat                     
,,photogravure                 #ai      
,,below ,,bridge                    ,do4
                     #bb    ,a ,,back   
,,street                   ,do4         
#bd    ,a ,,coffee ,,stall              

,do4                     #bf    ,,rain1 
,,smoke1 ,,and ,,traffic        ,do4    
#bi    ,,westminster                    
,,etching                      #ca      
,,list ,,of ,,essays                    
,,page    ,,the ,,london ,,sunday       
#a    ,a ,,pilgrim                #d    
,,the ,,effect ,,of ,,london     #f     
,,the ,,climate ,,of ,,smoke     #i     
,,the ,,trees               #ab         
,,chelsea ,,reach           #af    ,,the
 ,,spring              #ai    ,,below   
,,bridge            #bb    ,,the ,,roads
               #bf    ,,the             
,,smouldering ,,city    #bi             
,illustration3 ,,the ,,river4     ,,the 
,,london ,,sunday   ,this seems to be a 
thing that all exclaim against1 and but 
few see4 ,the phrase is never varied--a 
sure sign of lack of experience4 ,one   
cries1 ',oh1 the ,london ,sunday6' and  
another1 ',it must be too dreadful for  
foreigners6' and before the topic       
disappears something yet vaguer has been
 said1 in a flickering manner1 as to the

 ,boulevards4 ,but in fact ,london      
,sunday is little understood even by    
those who know its aspect1 and the      
greater number do not know even so much4
   ,illustration3 ,a ,forgotten ,corner4
   ,obviously1 it is one thing in the   
summer of livelong sunshine1 and another
 thing in winter4 ,when the tops of the 
steeples fly a blue and white sky as far
 as the eye may see--a broad flag for   
the streets1 and a narrow1 wavering     
pennon for the alleys2 when the         
reluctant faces of grey houses are      
compelled by the fires of the day to    
bandy reflections with the grey houses  
opposite2 when the sun himself is lodged
 in every window1 so that the town      
multiplies his very face1 and sets up   
suns to the west in the morning and to  
the east in the evening--suns in rows1  
and suns that run fluctuating along the 
windows of a long1 unequal street2 when 
the plane-tree is fresh and the leaf of 
the elm already dry1 the ,london        
,sunday1 from beginning to end1 is      

passed by the ,london people out of     
doors4 ,for this reason it is difficult 
to understand it2 you cannot tell       
whither these streams of people are     
bound4 ,they all have the gait of making
 for some end2 they do not stroll1 and  
there is doubtless some excursion afoot4
 ,the number of young men1 in proportion
 to the numbers of older men1 of women1 
girls1 and children1 is curious1        
especially in the further east4 ,they go
 in great straggling gangs1 and though  
they do nothing--not even much          
talking--they give a false air of       
lawlessness to the streaming street4    
,they are the ugliest of all the        
populace1 their clothing1 besides1 being
 the most dull and indescribable1 and   
their bearing indefinitely defiant4 ,the
 men of other kinds and ages1 and the   
women1 who needs must balance such a    
horde of men of twenty1 seem to spend   
less of their ,sunday on the road1 and  
you may see them1 accordingly1 in great 
numbers in the open spaces--the vague   

lands on the other side of ,clapton1 for
 instance4 ,very few people of any kind 
seem to be within their houses in the   
free afternoon4  ,in spite of the length
 of ,london1 you may pass from the      
furthest west to the extreme east1 and  
from the last country field to the      
first1 so quickly as to get a continuous
 ,sunday impression--the day and the    
people flowing1 unfolding1 and closing1 
from suburb to remote suburb1 through   
'town1' through the ,city1 through the  
east1 and to the verge of breathless and
 unfragrant meadows1 divided by a       
league-long tramway line lost in the    
distances of ,epping1 whither the smoke1
 from which a south-west wind has set   
all ,london radiantly free1 is trailing 
a broken wing4  ,even in the centre of  
the ,city it cannot be said that the    
main streets are deserted2 for they     
evidently are all thoroughfares towards 
the unknown places to which these       
thousands and thousands of crossing feet
 are bent4 ,but the secondary streets   

are swept and vacant2 and the effect of 
the absence of people is to turn the    
whole picture pale4 ,the asphaltic      
streets are almost white1 and in this   
light-grey ,london1 colourless but      
clear1 you realise how much man darkens 
and blackens the earth in these         
latitudes by his mere presence4 ,the    
natural surface of the world1 it seems1 
is rather blond than dark2 the quarry is
 white1 and the harvest bright2 with    
which agrees the delicate1 high1 and    
sensitive soft colour of the body4 ,it  
is a pity that mere black1 brown1 and   
grey dyes should so change the colour of
 the race--squalid dyes1 in which are   
steeped the unchanged and the unwashed  
garments of these quite innumerable     
young men4 ,it may be noted that the    
great majority of the ,london ,sunday   
women are fresh to see4 ,we all know    
that there are alleys and corners where 
the women look otherwise1 but those who 
take their part in this ,sunday1 so     
famous in allusions1 who join in the    

day-long movement on foot and load the  
tramcars1 are clean and cleanly clad4   
,in ,shoreditch and along the           
out-stretching ,kingsland ,road the     
all-brilliant sun strikes flashes from  
white dresses and gilds fair hair       
attractively arranged4 ,this is one of  
the surprises of the journey4  ,another 
surprise is that you fall in love with  
the ,city steeples1 and find it dull to 
pass out of their influence of serenity 
and fancy to come amongst the ,gothic   
towers and spires of the suburbs4 ,these
 last are studious and consistent1      
properly retrospective1 and full of     
principle and history4 ,moreover1 they  
are well seen1 for they stand in the    
wide dwarf town1 with nothing of their  
own measure except the ,board ,schools4 
,all the shabbier suburbs are dwarfs1   
and none drop so suddenly and go so near
 the ground as the suburbs of the       
north-east4 ,but there are too many     
,gothic towers2 whereas of the lovely   
spires of ,wren and of his followers we 

shall have no more4 ,no one1 it seems1  
plots to recapture that signal          
inspiration1 so delicate1 so inventive1 
so full of dignity and freaks4 ,nothing 
is quite so beautiful as the spire of   
,bow1 but it must be permitted to admire
 a slender steeple in ,shoreditch1 and  
one close to the ,blue-,coat ,school1   
the much less ingenious one by the ,post
 ,office1 even the prankish one near the
 ,mansion ,house1 besides the beautiful 
,st4 ,mary's in the ,strand1 and the    
only less charming ,st4 ,clement ,danes4
 ,and all these lily-like spires have   
kept1 more or less1 their paleness in   
the smirched and spotted town4 ,they are
 fine against all the ,london skies1 and
 never more beautiful than with a bright
 grey sky1 and the half-sunshine of a   
characteristic ,london day on their     
happy little cupolas and small and      
exquisite columns1 except1 perhaps1 when
 a westering sun makes their white a    
golden rose4 ,st4 ,botolph's1           
,bishopsgate1 has but a squat spire1 set

 with flourishing little urns2 but it   
has many trees tossing in the summer    
wind1 and in its garden a fountain where
 the pigeons and sparrows bathe         
together4 ,across the geraniums and     
lobelias of another quadrangle1 full of 
sun and translucent shadow1 you may see 
the gold of the altar-lights1 and white 
surplices gilded with that gold4 ,the   
tradition--a ,dickens tradition1 it     
seems--of the desolate ,city church is  
still true as to the numbers of the     
congregations3 in this open church there
 are but three people1 exceedingly      
devout2 but the old woman1 the beadle1  
the gloom are gone4   ,illustration3    
,,westminster ,,abbey4   ,there is one  
respect in which ,sunday flatters the   
town4 ,it fills with iron blinds and    
shutters the hollows of the shops       
whereby ,london usually looks as though 
the houses found a kind of helpless     
security in their long1 staggering1     
lateral union1 a prop for houses that   
have lost their feet4 ,again1 it helps  

the summer to put out many fires1 and   
helps the live wind to sift the darkness
 from the sunlight4     ,a ,,pilgrim    
,now and then a firefly strays from the 
vineyard into the streets of an ,italian
 city1 and goes quenched in the light of
 the shops4 ,the stray and waif from    
'the very country' that comes to ,london
 is a silver-white seed with silken     
spokes or sails4 ,there is no depth of  
the deep town that this visitant does   
not penetrate in ,august--going in1     
going far1 going through1 by virtue of  
its indescribable gentleness4 ,the      
firefly has only a wall to cross1 but   
the shining seed comes a long way1 a    
careless alien but a mighty traveller4  
,indestructibly fragile1 the most       
delicate of all the visible signs of the
 breeze1 it goes to town1 makes light of
 the capital1 sets at nought the        
thoroughfares and the omnibuses1        
especially flouts the ,park1 one may    
suppose1 where it does not grow4 ,it    
hovers and leaps at about the height of 

first-floor windows1 by many a mile of  
dull drawing-rooms1 a country creature  
quite unconverted to ,london and        
undismayed4 ,this flneur makes as little
 of our ,london as his ancestor made of 
,chaucer's4  ,sometimes it takes a      
flight on a stronger wind1 and its      
whiteness shows dark with slight shadow 
against bright clouds1 as the whiter    
snow-flake also looks dark from its     
shadow side4 ,then it comes down in a   
tumult of flight upon the city4 ,it is a
 very strong little seed-pod1 set with  
arms1 legs1 or sails--so ingeniously set
 that though all grow from the top of   
the pod their points together make a    
globe2 on these it turns a 'cart-wheel' 
like a human boy--like many boys1 in    
fact1 it must overtake on its way       
through the less respectable of the     
suburbs--only better4 ,every limb1      
itself so fine1 is feathered with little
 plumes that are as thin as autumn      
spider-webs4 ,nothing steps so          
delicately as that seed1 or upon such   

extreme tiptoe4 ,but it does not walk   
far2 the air bears the charges of the   
wild journey4  ,thistle-seeds--if       
thistle-seeds they be--make few and     
brief halts1 then roll their wheel on   
the stones for a while1 and then the    
wheel is a-wing again4 ,you encounter   
them in the country1 setting out for    
town on a south wind1 and in ,london    
there is not a street they do not       
recklessly stray along4 ,for they use   
our arbitrary streets2 it does not seem 
that they make a bee-line over the top  
of the houses1 and cross ,london thus4  
,they use the streets which they treat  
so lightly4 ,they conform1 for the time1
 to human courses1 and stroll down ,bond
 ,street and turn up ,piccadilly1 and go
 to the ,bank on a long west wind--their
 strolling being done at a certain      
height1 in moderate mid-air4            
,illustration3 ,,terrible ,,london4     
,they generally travel wildly alone1 but
 now and then you shall see two of them1
 as you see butterflies go in couples1  

flitting at leisure at ,charing ,cross4 
,the extreme ends of their tender plumes
 have touched and have lightly caught   
each other4 ,but singly they go by all  
day1 with long rises and long descents  
as the breeze may sigh1 or more quickly 
on a high level way of theirs4 ,nothing 
wilder comes to town--not even the scent
 of hay on morning winds at market-time 
in ,june2 for the hay is for cab-horses1
 and it is at home in the clattering    
mews1 and has a ,london habit of its    
own4  ,white meteor1 lost star1 bright  
as a cloud1 the seed has many images of 
its radiant flight4 ,but there is only  
one thing really like it--the point of  
light caught by a diamond1 with the     
regular surrounding rays4     ,,the     
,,effect ,,of ,,london   ,it is no      
wonder if the painters of ,london are   
somewhat eager for the help of smoke4 ,a
 simple glance at the streets--and the  
glance that would appreciate so mingled 
a sight as that of ,london must be      
simple--shows you that the detail of our

 streets is the closest detail in the   
world4 ,nowhere else do the houses1 the 
carriages1 and the people1 all alike1   
wear the minute spots of hard colour    
that make a ,london street by bright    
daylight look so sharp and small4 ,in   
cities abroad1 for instance1 you find   
some blank spaces of wall on the fronts 
of the houses1 narrow spaces in the     
north1 but wider and wider as you go    
south4 ,in other cities is here and     
there a closing of the eyelids with a   
smoothing of the faces of the streets2  
here alone the unshuttered windows are  
set close together2 the street glances  
and chatters with the false vivacity of 
these perpetual windows4 ,shops and     
windows run into rows all but touching  
one another1 or what interval there     
might have been betwixt is1 by the care 
of architects1 in some manner harassed  
and beset4   ,illustration3 ,the ,nerves
 of ,london4   ,add to this the black   
garments of the crowd1 which make every 
man conspicuous in the light1 and the   

abrupt and minute patches of            
white--exceedingly pure white of sharp  
shapes and angles--scattered throughout 
the drifting and intercrossing          
multitude4 ,the white of a footman's    
shirt1 the white of the collars of      
innumerable men1 the white letters of   
advertisements1 the white of the label  
at the back of cabs and hansoms1 and    
many and many another little square1    
triangle1 and line of white1 are visible
 to the utmost distances4 ,they have an 
emphasis that is never softened2        
nothing1 except snow1 could be whiter2  
and nothing1 perhaps1 makes so salient a
 part of the enormous fragmentariness of
 the street view4   ,illustration3 ,,an 
,,impression4   ,there might be as much 
detail in some other scenes1 but that   
they have not these shreds and patches  
of black and white4 ,of all landscape1  
for instance1 that of the small culture 
of ,italy and of parts of the ,east is1 
perhaps1 the most minute4 ,a little rill
 of vine is crossed by a short patch of 

corn1 and among all the sprinkled       
foliage of fruit-trees1 the olive1 with 
the smallest leaf of all1 is the most   
constant4 ,there is no liberty1 and your
 sight is taken in a net of green crops2
 it is trapped on the ground by tendrils
 of cucumber1 and cannot rise because of
 maize and beans1 nor can it fly for    
branches4 ,no tract of grass is wide    
enough to make a space of quiet green1  
and the eyes are kept busy by delicate  
things in perpetual interchange4 ,it is 
not the multitude of a wide             
clover-field1 where one stroke of the   
breeze turns a million little faces of  
flowers eastwards1 for there is hardly  
any repetition1 but an unending         
obstruction4 ,nor can you see anything  
that is quite simple1 unless1 pushing   
aside a branch of fig-tree with this    
hand1 and a bough of peach with that1   
you lift your eyes to the indescribable 
simplicity of the distance of mountains4
  ,or there is infinite detail in a     
,thames-side bank of woods between      

,maidenhead and ,cookham1 when all the  
leaves are out1 and all still young--the
 characteristic local green of beech1   
alder1 poplar1 and ash1 all still unlike
 each other and undarkened2 every       
separate leaf faced with colour and     
light1 and backed by mystery and shadow4
 ,but yet neither this nor anything else
 in nature shows the innumerable        
minuteness of ,london in the sun4 ,the  
summer sun sends a peremptory summons to
 every patch of omnibus1 red or blue1 to
 every scrap of harness1 to all the     
broken1 inconsequent accents1 all equal1
 all divided1 and all leaping to light4 
,in regard to movement1 the scenery of  
the streets has no likeness to anything 
in nature4 ,clouds wing one way1 streams
 flow1 trees toss1 thrill1 and remain1  
but the crowd moves all ways without    
ever changing its spots1 its dull       
violence of colour and contrast4 ,summer
 and day make the streets impossible for
 the painter4 ,but the summer of ,london
 is most local and characteristic--not  

only in the west1 when the scent of     
mignonette and the recurrent click of   
the bearing-rein and bit where carriages
 stand waiting are the very signs of    
town2 summer at the ,bank1 summer that  
gives to the walls of ,lombard ,street a
 faint hint of reflected light1 and     
fills at a glance ten thousand serried  
windows with the images of the sun4 ,if 
there is everywhere a lack of spirit and
 sweetness1 it is only that sunshine1   
with every tree and every flower1 is    
converted to ,london and turns a        
,londoner4  ,but such charm as there may
 still be in the touches of the sun are 
perceptible rather in the few streets   
that keep their ancient narrowness4     
,here there is precisely the possibility
 of that inter-reflection of sunshine   
and warm light1 from house to facing    
house1 which in its gentle splendour is 
the chief loveliness of summer in       
southern cities1 where walls are here   
and there blank1 and tenderly coloured4 
,reflected light is the beauty of       

shadows1 and really one may see a shadow
 faintly so transformed in the course of
 the delicate curves of ,city streets4  
,such curves are not in the wider       
streets2 they are beautiful1 apart from 
the chances and changes of light which  
they foster1 and many a narrow street   
leading to the right and to the left out
 of ,cheapside1 or some other of the    
central ,london ways1 takes curves as   
subtle as those of a swimming fish's    
tail4 ,otherwise ,london curves are     
distressingly ugly and dreary--those of 
a crescent1 for example4 ,but as much as
 the crescent offends1 the light wave of
 a fish's-tail street pleases the eye1  
with its fine deflections4 ,a wave of   
this kind is frequent enough in         
villages1 but a certain height in the   
houses gives it all its character in    
,london4  ,some of these alleys1 on one 
side at least1 have also the charm1     
which is the rarest thing in town1 of a 
certain steepness in incline4 ,they dip 
as they waver1 with a motion that tells 

of a direction towards water4 ,whether  
in village or town there is sea or      
river1 a hidden ,mediterranean or a     
hidden ,thames1 at the level to which   
the sway and swing of the path will     
settle4 ,and throughout ,london the     
direction of streets seems to be a      
rather secret thing1 and misleading--the
 sign of a town that has not been       
ordered as a machine is ordered1 but has
 felt its way like an organism4 ,slight 
tendencies1 convergences1 divergences1  
lead the streets wandering and draw     
lines long astray4 ,old and forgotten   
causes have brought to pass the slight  
misgoing that first takes the streets   
apart--old rights or the accidents of   
private liberty2 and what these began   
the chances of sequence have ended1 a   
mile astray4 ,doubtless1 besides1 the   
swing of the river has tended to set    
streets a-flowing too4  ,but the        
downward fluctuation of little ,city    
streets towards the water is a briefer  
thing1 and as full of drawing as the    

upper line of a flexible fan            
foreshortened4 ,the long straying       
streets are too vague for drawing4 ,in  
these ,city lanes1 too1 there is some   
rest for the eyes from the infinite     
detail of the street1 and even from the 
tyranny of windows4 ,only in their      
warehouses are to be found spaces of    
plain wall1 but unluckily the plain wall
 is also black4     ,illustration3 ,,end
 ,,of ,a ,,winter ,,day4                
,illustration3 ,the ,embankment at      
,night4   ,,the ,,climate ,,of ,,smoke  
,it is some little treason to a natural 
storm to admire too eagerly the mimic   
wrack and menace of the paltry tempest  
of the smoke4 ,only by acknowledging the
 climate of ,london to be more than half
 an artificial climate1 and by treating 
our own handiwork--the sky of our       
manufacture--with a relative contempt1  
are we excused for thinking the effects 
in any sense beautiful4 ,let us avoid   
serious words of description4 ,the      
whirls of floating smoke that darken the

 sunset are 'lurid' to no very grand    
purpose2 and the threat from even twice 
as many kitchen fires never would be    
terrible4 ,it is a tale signifying      
nothing4 ,let us grant that there is now
 and then an effect of handsome grime1  
but there is no system in this scenery  
of smoke4 ,what form seems at times to  
declare itself is bestowed by the light4
 ,the sun rules from a centre1 whatever 
the circumference be made of--mist from 
mountain heights or vapour from that    
series of successive fleeting solitudes1
 the ocean1 or refuse from a million    
fireplaces2 and from this reigning      
centre his rays seem to compel a kind of
 organism4 ,there is no chance-medley   
where he rules1 because of his long1    
distributed lights1 and straight1       
infallible1 divergent shadows that pick 
off the points and pinnacles of a       
thousand distances4 ,the lowering sun   
will not permit the smoke to show so    
shapeless1 so lifeless1 so unbounded as 
it is2 he takes his place in the middle 

of a wheel1 and commands at any rate a  
mechanical order4  ,otherwise1 and      
without a sun lowered into your picture1
 the smoke-mingled sky is the most      
unplanned in the world4 ,it has no      
confederacy1 and no direction4 ,nothing 
leads1 and there are no figures1 no     
troops1 no companies2 there is no       
history1 nor approach4 ,the smoke is    
helpless4 ,it is perpetually subject to 
gravitation2 no wind makes it buoyant1  
and no electric impetus lifts it against
 a wind4 ,it constantly and drearily    
drops1 as you may see if you look       
against any ,london horizon2 the minute 
shower that it carries never ceases and 
never lifts1 but sifts down momently    
from the low sky into which the chimneys
 raised it at first4 ,that one upward   
spring was all its life4 ,thenceforth it
 does but drift until it is all shed1 to
 the last black atom1 upon the face of  
the town4  ,and yet you may1 twenty     
times a day in ,london1 hear the smoke  
called cloud4 ,thunderstorms are        

announced as lurking in the heart of the
 powerless bosom of the smoke1 and      
showers are threatened where there never
 was anything so fresh as a drop of     
rain4 ,the puny darkness is supposed    
capable of lightnings1 and out of the   
grime is expected the thunderbolt4 ,the 
splendid name of the cloud is given to  
this poor local vesture of decay2 no use
 or custom seems sufficient to make the 
,london sky of mechanical suspension    
familiar to the citizen2 when he faces  
it at the end of a brief distance he    
calls it by the names proper to the     
celestial heights1 and he is hardly     
convinced of the truth when he sees it  
walk his streets4  ,but1 indeed1 he     
might have learned long ago that there  
is no life in his storm1 and that when  
thunder comes it wears a different      
gloom4 ,the worst is that with the      
authentic darkness of cloud comes so    
often the imitation1 and a town tempest 
is not only mocked1 but hidden and      
covered1 by the pother of mere smoke1 so

 that the citizen does not well learn to
 distinguish4 ,but he who has ever      
really known the cloud will not make    
that ignominious confusion4 ,he knows   
the difference in storm1 and so much    
more the greater difference in sunshine2
 he will not call by the name of cloud a
 thing that shows the dark shadow grimly
 enough1 but never the light sweetly1   
and is naturally incapable of white4    
,and yet the artificial climate of      
,london is at its best when it is very  
obvious1 and when it has strong scenes  
of sunset or storm to deal with4 ,the   
time when it is insufferable is noonday 
or full afternoon on a cloudless day in 
summer1 when there is not wind enough to
 drift it1 helpless1 out of town1 and   
when it is not thick enough to keep the 
sun away4 ,it makes the sunshine ugly4  
,no beauty1 even artificial or obvious1 
belongs to the smoke then1 and it plays 
no antic pranks in mimicry of cloud4 ,it
 has no shadow and no menace2 it has no 
opportunity for stage-plays2 it is      

disconcerted1 and cannot make a penny   
theatre of its ,london4 ,every one must 
know such days1 of which the essence    
should have been their purity1 plain and
 splendid4 ,by their light is the smoke 
seen to be nothing in the world but a   
sorry smirch4 ,the horizon is thickened 
with it1 and there it wreaks its chief  
'effects1' but all near things are also 
oppressed by it2 the spirit of the      
sunshine is gone1 and a blazing sun upon
 miles of blue slate roofs and yellow   
houses1 with the thin uncleanness of    
smoke just showing in the blaze1 is     
actually that impossibility--sunshine   
without beauty4   ,illustration3        
,,utilitarian ,,london4   ,after this1  
let us grant the smoke the tragi-comedy 
of its successes4 ,these are generally  
connected with ,westminster2 it finds   
matter fitted to its manner in the      
surrounding architecture1 and in the    
westward opening4 ,it suppresses a great
 deal that is not very presentable1 on  
the working side of the river1 and it   

reveals what is ,gothic on the other    
bank4 ,it has a trick of being ashamed  
of its origin1 for it hustles the long  
chimneys out of sight4 ,it does really  
surprising things with the beautiful    
dome of ,st4 ,paul's2 the very          
formlessness of its presence seems to   
give more value to that fine form4 ,it  
has a way of showing the noble tops of  
clouds while it loses their bases in    
vagueness1 which is not without beauty4 
,you cannot see from what heavenly      
ranges of highlands those summits tower1
 and if they stand into the sunshine    
their isolation is the more remote and  
splendid4 ,but even this is but a handy 
bit of scene-shifting2 it touches no    
more than the fancy4  ,there is another 
effect of the ,london climate1 besides  
the effect of sky scenery1 and that is  
the local colour wherewith the          
characteristic smoke1 mingled with a    
little rain to make a general           
water-colour1 has painted the surfaces  
of the town in variants of black4 ,the  

citizen who--unaware of such things as  
the quarter of the wind--takes his      
umbrella for fear of the thunderous look
 of a tremendous smoke-storm to leeward1
 is apt to take the touch of soot for   
the touch of time4 ,nevertheless1 the   
two dark colours are quite unlike2 time 
is browner1 and has a depth in the tone1
 whereas soot is greyer1 and at its     
blackest has no depth4 ,it gives a      
shallow colour2 and even those who love 
their sky streaked and tumbled into the 
chaos of smoke should not be allowed to 
defend the aquarelle that colours their 
buildings4  ,it is true that we no      
longer offer columns of the ,doric order
 for treatment by ,london water-colours2
 but all the ,doric columns we already  
have are left subject to this           
extraordinary substitute for the        
colouring of a ,laconic sun4 ,we have   
discovered that terra-cotta and tiles   
resist the work of the climate1 and no  
doubt ,london at a glance presents a    
less coal-blackened face than it once   

wore4 ,but too much of the surface of   
,london is still the work of that       
dashing impressionist1 the climate4     
,illustration   ,,the ,,trees   ,the    
high trees that stand stirring and      
thrilling in the squares in summer do   
taste of darkness2 night drives home a  
thousand shadows--thin and subtle       
flocks--to fold within the iron railings
 and to shelter in corners of the worn  
and unfragrant grass till morning4 ,but 
the single trees that have their roots  
under grey pavements1 and that breathe  
in the little accidental standing-places
 of the wayside1 the railed-in corners  
left by the chance-medley of ,london    
streets--these have the strange fate to 
be in perpetual light4 ,they never are  
washed in darkness2 they never withdraw 
into that state and condition of        
freedom1 into that open hiding-place1   
that untravelled liberty1 that wild     
seclusion at home1 that refuge without  
flight1 that secret unconcealed1 that   
solitude unenclosed1 that manumission of

 captives1 that opportunity of          
,penelope--darkness4  ,the leaves of the
 street-side tree flutter bright emerald
 green through the whole night 7out of  
town the discolouring night7 of leafy   
summer4 ,that local colour is never     
quenched1 as human blushes are quenched 
at night4 ,it rather takes a more       
conspicuous quality1 under the closeness
 of the electric light2 it is sharply   
green4 ,whereas the day has its mists   
and veils1 and may at times darken a    
tree nearly black1 by setting the sky   
alight behind it1 the night has none of 
these shadows4 ,the light of night is   
stationary and unchangeable1 and there  
are some solitary trees here and there  
that undergo the unshifting illumination
 at the closest quarters2 the light that
 knows no hours and makes no journey    
gleams near upon the motion of the      
leaves and glosses their faces4 ,it is  
beforehand with the twilight1 so that   
the dusk when it comes finds the place  
taken1 and it will not let the tree go  

until the light of day flows in fully1  
and dawn is over4   ,illustration3      
,,kensington ,,gardens4   ,the sharp    
green of the plane-tree is never        
covered1 nor are the delicately         
sprinkled spots of the poplar-leaves    
mingled and massed1 in these solitary   
citizen trees4 ,it is in the avenues and
 glades of ,kensington ,gardens that    
,night has her way4 ,there amends are   
made for the common day by a double     
mystery4 ,not a tree is so much as to be
 known by name2 all kinds sigh together 
in the dark4 ,the mass is sombre and    
alive1 but betrays neither leaf nor     
colour4 ,as violently as the spirit of  
the woods was driven away1 through all  
the long daylight1 by the sound1 the    
breath1 the blackness1 and the stamp and
 seal of ,london1 which permit nothing  
visible--not a blade of grass--to go    
unmarked by the proprietorship of this  
despotic city2 so swiftly as the spirit 
of the woods was hooted and stared into 
banishment by day1 so quickly1 so       

intently1 and in such a union of        
multitude does it softly return by      
night4 ,solitude comes1 the movement of 
the forest comes1 and remoteness1 which 
by day must be sought where it abides1  
comes at a stride to ,london1 and sits  
in the branches of the trees4 ,profound 
is the forest and august the sky whence 
the great and melancholy spirit of the  
woods comes to restore these daily      
altered elms4  ,look but at the avenue  
of the ,broad ,walk at night1 as it is  
seen from its northern gate4 ,some      
midsummer daylight hovers up the sky1   
but the coolness and purity of subtle   
light are subtly mixed with the thin    
brown that is the colour of ,london4 ,a 
narrow space of this sombre and delicate
 sky lies straight between the two      
masses of the trees1 and they are       
unmarked1 unbroken1 by any single branch
 or twig astray4 ,the symmetry is       
absolute2 the wide pathway is one faint 
grey from foreground to distance4 ,close
 to you1 two sentinel trees1 one on     

either hand1 hold the gateway of the    
majestic avenue1 and these only are     
green1 on these only shines the gaslight
 of the road4 ,these two are among those
 ,london trees that never bathe in      
darkness4 ,you can see their branches   
and their leaves1 their soft encounters 
with the night-winds1 and their         
articulate composure2 but you see none  
of such things in the high and dark mass
 beyond1 standing also precisely to the 
right1 and precisely to the left4  ,by  
day it is a ,london avenue1 and the     
grass and gravel are1 as it were1       
disowned by ,nature2 but now this rigid 
pattern of a landscape is visibly in the
 heart and centre of ,nature and ,night4
 ,no pilgrimage of days can take a      
traveller further than the places he is 
rapt to by a pause1 at night1 where     
distance and dreams themselves have made
 the journey4  ,or seek the trees       
earlier in the night2 for the trees of  
,kensington ,gardens are not deprived of
 the delicate dusk1 though the first    

twilight has too much of day in it1 and 
the touching restoration does not begin 
until the paths are vague and colour is 
absorbed and effaced by the influence of
 the local sky4 ,london passes away from
 the trees while the ,june north-west is
 still luminous1 but barely luminous1   
and going out so fast that to watching  
eyes it seems to flash softly while it  
darkens1 as though summer lightning were
 at play under the horizon2 then the    
tender leaves of penetrable trees1      
lightly apart in the tree-tops1 let     
showering glimpses of sky go through4   
,if1 on the other hand1 you turn your   
own face from the bright regions and    
take the leaves with the north-west upon
 them1 on no apple-trees in orchards1   
and on no olives in the south1 does the 
subsiding evening look more sweetly4    
,all is forgotten except the cool       
ablution of evening upon the separate   
leaves4  ,or if there is an early moon1 
she is as sovereign a restorative as the
 dark itself4 ,she touches the high     

places of avenues within sound of the   
,london wheels1 and they become as      
simple as tree-tops at ,verona4 ,but1   
indeed1 the moon is plainly seen to     
bring this dignity and liberty from the 
simple skies4 ,all the world knows her  
to be like that lady of the poets who   
spoke to none that was not worthy1      
because before she talked with men she  
'knighted them with her smile4' ,it is  
one of the tyrannies wreaked by the     
electric light and the gas-lamps upon   
the street-side tree that they keep away
 from it the glimpses of the moon4 ,not 
only is secret darkness forbidden1 but  
the secret light is quenched4 ,the tree 
waves softly all night in the unaltering
 lamplight1 and the moonlight is killed 
upon its leaves4  ,as to these lights of
 ,london lamps1 their beauty1 which is  
so great1 seems to depend almost        
entirely upon the sky4 ,see them as they
 glow in the long unequal curves that   
follow the subtly misleading directions 
of the streets of ,london1 and in all   

their brilliancy they make but a common 
show--pretty enough1 but not beautiful4 
,but let any lamp or line of lamps come 
into visible relation with the sky--any 
sky1 whether a mysterious night-sky     
softly embrowned1 or a night-sky swept  
pure by a west wind1 or the most        
ordinary grey of any average            
evening--and the lamp has indescribable 
beauties4 ,i have seen a grey blue sky  
at the earliest moment when street lamps
 were alight at all1 and radiant against
 the light grey of its invisible and    
equal clouds an electric lamp has been  
reared3 an electric lamp of cold white  
light1 pure and keen1 and armed with    
intense and splendid arrows that would  
pierce day itself4 ,light grey sky and  
thrilling lamp together make--or so it  
seems to me--one of the most beautiful  
sights that eyes can see--the most      
refined1 most severe1 and most          
exquisite4 ,this carbon electric light  
is so much disliked because1 no doubt1  
it was generally seen under the glass   

and iron of a railway station4 ,seen    
with the sky it cannot but be seen to be
 most beautiful4 ,the golden            
lights--electric lamps or gas           
lamps--have the beauty of fire1 but the 
white lamp has the beauty of light4 ,the
 golden1 too1 however1 cannot be seen at
 their best but in one picture with the 
sky4  ,london at night has begun1 of    
late1 so to multiply her lights that    
they make all her scenery4 ,a           
search-light suddenly draws the eye up  
to the chimney-pots 7sweetly touched1   
they too1 on the westernmost of their   
squalid sides7 and to the unbroken sky2 
and then at once the eye travels down   
its shaft1 revealing clouded air2 and   
here a puff of steam from some machine  
at work on the new underground railway  
takes colour on its curves4 ,or the     
search-light makes the programme of a   
music-hall to shine black and white upon
 the wall2 anon1 an advertisement is    
written in light1 and perpetually among 
the even progress of the carriage lights

 flit the lamps of bicycles4 ,and if1   
from a heart of glowing lights1 you look
 into the streets1 you find them so     
filled with blue air that there is      
evident blue between you and the houses 
opposite4   ,illustration3 ,,night      
,,scene1 ,,bermondsey4   ,the           
street-corner tree has always the golden
 gas and the blue air2 upon it rains a  
sky that is not seen to darken for rain1
 and you hear the drops1 silent         
elsewhere1 upon its open leaves4        
,,chelsea ,,reach   ,the worst of all   
reasons for continuing anything is that 
it is easily continuable4 ,the ,houses  
of ,parliament have an air as though you
 could take them on along the river     
towards ,chelsea without any necessity  
for stopping4 ,but that very suggestion 
prompts its own refusal4 ,no man would  
hold this characteristic to be one that 
makes for the beauty of a design2 what  
there is of a really fine building never
 prompted the wish that it were to be   
prolonged4 ,and although an embanking   

wall is not the same thing as a         
building1 yet of even an embankment it  
may be said that the fact that it is    
already very long is at any rate a poor 
reason for making it longer4 ,when the  
thing is not altogether admirable1 it   
would be hard to urge a better reason   
for making no more of it4 ,this is worth
 saying in consideration of a recent    
measure of improvement directed against 
the last bit left of the ,chelsea       
foreshore4 ,the measure was urged on the
 plea of uniformity1 which obviously has
 reference to the beauty of the bank4   
,therefore when the protesters against  
the change were accused--as doubtless   
they were--of opposing it for reasons of
 sentiment1 they might well answer that 
the ,county ,council also has reasons of
 sentiment4 ',le coeur a ses raisons6'  
,the feeling for uniformity is a        
sentiment1 like another4 ,while1 then1  
uniformity is one of the 'reasons of the
 heart' of a ,county ,council1 the      
inhabitants of ,cheyne ,walk are free to

 press reasons of their own hearts4     
,the ,embankment stops short at its     
westward end1 in the course of ,cheyne  
,walk1 just below the place where the   
river leaves a little bend which is an  
inlet1 an incident1 of the long ,reach4 
,call the curve a gulf1 and this is a   
little bay within it4 ,the bay is a     
small1 forgotten1 abiding1 unremarked   
shore1 with a great deal of modern      
,london not only below it1 but above it1
 on its further side--that is1 between  
it and the vaguest beginnings of the    
country4 ,nevertheless1 it is not modern
 at all4 ,it looks like the overlooked  
little bits of cottage1 tiled           
cottage-roof1 and cottage front-garden1 
that are to be seen forgotten in the    
roaring streets of ,fulham--true bits of
 village in the depths of town4 ,but in 
any case it is to go1 even though the   
gulf is saved4 ,let us say at once that 
there may be two intelligible opinions  
as to the ,embankment at ,westminster   
and ,charing ,cross4 ,there is something

 due to the worldly dignity of a great  
city4 ,the distinction of ,london was   
once that it was not a great city but a 
great village4 ,it was a little town1   
widespread2 and until the raising of    
some of the best of the new buildings on
 the left bank1 there was nothing       
conspicuously fine to contradict the    
village character except ,somerset      
,house4 ,the great stations and the busy
 ,gothic of the ,houses of ,parliament  
were not influential enough for this4   
,now1 however1 it is somewhat different4
 ,two buildings at least in the line of 
new hotels and offices seem good enough 
to make rules4 ,they are not of the     
dignity of ,somerset ,house1 but they   
will serve4 ,for a space1 then1 where   
they stand1 the village-,london is done 
away4 ,and only for a village-,london1 a
 ,london keeping its own distinctive    
character1 would a broken1 accidental1  
muddy shore1 with its tidal rhythm of   
mud and wave1 be fit4 ,this left bank at
 least is1 for a space1 grande ville4   

,we cannot altogether grudge its        
,embankment4   ,illustration3 ,,the     
,,clock ,,tower1 ,,westminster4   ,but  
if there is a mile of ,london village   
left--and therefore of the most         
,london-like ,london--it is at ,chelsea4
 ,the reason of the ,county ,council's  
heart1 even1 ought to confess thus much4
 ,and the village-character is in its   
vitality on the curving foreshore of    
this long ,reach4 ,a great part of the  
district near is a village of yesterday1
 and mean enough1 but the river-side of 
wharf and barge and tidal change is a   
village river-side of long ago4 ,it is  
lowly enough1 not mean at all4 ,it is   
the scene of business as old as         
civilisation2 man-power and horse-power1
 and the movement of wind and water1    
seem to do the greater part of the work 
among them4 ,it is the counterpart of   
spade cultivation on the ,jersey        
coteaux1 though this is all river and   
that all earth2 but both are simple4    
,the chimneys on the right bank are a   

long way off1 the gasworks higher up are
 out of sight4 ,you can forget the great
 bridges down stream2 and looking       
towards the light the view is animating4
  ,inasmuch as the ,thames flows here   
north-eastward1 when you look to the    
south-west by ,chelsea ,reach1 in the   
early afternoon of windy spring1 you    
look at once towards the gates of light1
 the gates of the wind1 and the gates of
 the river4 ,there seems to be one sole 
spring and source in the day4 ,the way  
is1 beyond description1 open4 ,for the  
waterway is the flat of the world1 and  
everywhere else in ,london are houses2  
here is a real horizon4 ,here you get   
the proportions of a great sky1 as you  
get the proportions of a great church   
when there are no benches on the floor  
to shorten them4 ,the clouds come upon  
the south-west wind of the early year1 a
 little cold with the strength of       
freshness1 and not with chill1 and give 
and withhold a hundred lights4  ,those  
who do not like the name of mud should  

see how these lights are answered by the
 floor of mud in simple silver and      
steel4 ,twice a day the motion of the   
wave is there1 twice a day the still    
shore4 ,with that cradling change go the
 changes of the boats and barges at the 
wharves4 ,all is life1 but there is no  
colour1 except where you very dimly     
perceive that a sail is red as the sails
 are on the ,adriatic4 ,it is a view to 
teach painting1 to teach seeing4 ,we    
have not such another school in ,london 
as ,chelsea ,reach4 ,if ,chelsea ever   
becomes grande ville too1 the shape of  
the river will be altered1 and the      
profile of that curve1 sharp and fine   
with masts against the west will be     
abolished3 there will be no beauty of   
tides1 no silver wet mirror1 no barges4 
,there is nothing quite like ,chelsea4  
,the spoiling of ,chelsea will not be   
the same thing as the spoiling of the   
country by pushing on a suburb1 for     
instance2 for in that case there is     
country beyond1 only deferred4 ,but     

there is no ,cheyne ,walk1 no ,chelsea1 
further up the river1 or anywhere in the
 world of rivers4     ,illustration3    
,,st4 ,,paul',s ,,at ,,dawn4            
,illustration3 ,the ,last ,boat4   ,,the
 ,,spring   ,there is a splendid spring 
in town1 and it happens to agree with   
the country spring as to the time of    
appearing2 but it is another show1 and  
of another spirit4 ,the difference is   
curiously complete2 it was1 no doubt1 to
 be looked for in the avenues1 in the   
sward1 in the winding water1 and in the 
,park generally1 considered as a        
landscape4 ,but how is the grass itself 
,london grass8 ,not only in its acre of 
intense green1 but in the space of a    
square foot that might1 one would think1
 be anywhere1 it is ,london grass4 ,the 
leaves1 the blades1 are ,london growth4 
,you cannot evade the spirit of place by
 shutting out the sky1 the railings1 the
 people1 or the gravel4 ,even if you go 
close and make acquaintance1 as a child 
does1 with the roots1 you are aware that

 it is not the grass of ,england that   
you have there1 but the grass of        
,london4  ,the leaves of the trees have 
so vulgar a contrast in the black of    
stems1 branches1 and twigs1 that they   
are from the first obviously not the    
leaves of the woods4 ,they are all the  
better admired by many eyes1 for whom   
the modest contrasts of nature are not  
enough2 and you may hear the black and  
green of the parks praised for this same
 immoderate effect of colour4 ,but the  
grass has nothing to tell that tale of  
the ,london winter which the branch     
tells2 it is this year's2 it has no     
past2 it is innocent1 and answerable to 
the sun for merely its few inches of    
simple green4 ,it might be supposed to  
have the graces of an alien in ,london4 
,but it has them not at all2 it comes up
 a ,londoner4 ,you cannot be really     
intimate with it2 and when it puts up   
its little flower1 and your child brings
 it home to you hot from a clenched     
hand1 even then it has nothing1 nothing 

whatever1 of the fields4 ,you put it    
into water to flatter the child1 but    
even there1 given by that little alien  
hand1 and so isolated from its park and 
its railings1 it is unmistakably the    
grass of its own soil2 it manifestly    
could never have been romping with      
little young dandelions on the side of a
 village road1 or tossed by visiting    
winds scented with meadows4  ,the       
,london spring is a good thing1 but it  
is another thing4 ,it is only because of
 the accident by which the real spring  
and the ,london spring appear at the    
same time of the year that they have    
come to bear the same name1 and even to 
be confused together by the insensitive4
 ,a handful from the hedgerows twenty   
miles away--a handful1 already half     
faded1 of mingled things at random1     
grass and herbs1 not free from traces of
 white and warm rustic dust--an         
authentic little heap from the real     
spring1 would show at once to all       
apprehensive eyes what the difference   

really is4 ,and yet there must be       
careless or worldly birds that do not   
know it4 ,otherwise we should not hear  
such songs from the remotest river-sides
 sung within ,kensington ,gardens4 ,let 
no one pretend1 however1 that the bees  
are deceived or indifferent4  ,nor let  
it be said that the difference is       
superficial4 ,that is precisely untrue2 
it is the likeness that is superficial1 
and the difference essential4 ,the      
,london spring is a brilliant image of  
the real spring4 ,it is fresh when the  
real ,april is fresh2 and when it grows 
dim you could match it with specimens   
from the country wayside4 ,nay1 soot and
 smoke themselves cannot disguise the   
real spring growth and make it look like
 the ,london4 ,that can easily be       
proved4 ,after two weeks in which you   
are unconvinced of ,may by the green and
 dazzling parks1 you will get the very  
thrill of ,may from a square yard of    
very young nettles and young weeds of   
many kinds1 seen from a railway carriage

 and touched with the railway dust4     
,there is cleaner grass by the ,speke   
,monument1 but this that grows by the   
railway is out of town2 it is of another
 kind2 it is of the other spring4       
,somewhere1 past the suburbs1 the       
,london spring had its frontier1 and1   
this past1 the sun and the sap dawned   
and rose with sudden authority1 and     
spring was real4  ,knowing how intimate 
is the sense of smell1 one might think  
that the absence of the scent of the    
earth might account for all the deep    
difference of ,london4 ,but it is not   
so2 for you know the real spring by mere
 sight4 ,still1 the lack of that        
fragrance is much4 ,the earth is home1  
and the scent of it is the scent of     
infancy and home4 ,childhood knows it   
better than does the ploughman following
 the new furrow4 ,childhood has had it  
so near1 and has learned it once for    
all1 and will never be deceived1 nor    
will the man who has had a childhood    
near living earth2 he knows that the    

springs are two4 ,he knows1 for he      
remembers that he knew1 the spirit of   
the place4 ,that is an aura that lies   
near the ground4 ,it is a warm          
atmosphere that does not rise1 but      
breathes by little garden plots in      
corners2 is the very spirit of rivulets 
and brooks2 lurks amongst the           
maiden-hair that covers the fresh waters
 of ,mediterranean hillsides1 and       
amongst the gravel of old sunny garden  
terraces2 is so caught in moss that the 
air where moss grows seems to imprison  
it2 and passes quick into the nostrils  
of young children4 ,all low-growing     
flowers--ground-ivy1 and things that are
 not so tall as grass--are entangled    
with the spirit of place4 ,low box      
hedges are intricate with it1 and with  
the spirit of antiquity1 because they   
are no higher than the heads of very    
little children1 whose hearts conceive  
antiquity and the genius of places4     
,they know the breath of the parks well4
 ,what children know--what they knew--we

 have never forgotten4 ,and yet all the 
differences which they learned--the     
difference between the weak odour of    
soot and the gentle odour of earth1 and 
the difference between the click of the 
bit and the sound of the bee--are not   
the real difference between the town    
spring and the spring of the natural    
world4 ,they are mere signs and proofs2 
the fact lies deep and close2 there are 
two springs4   ,illustration3 ,,waterloo
 ,,bridge4   ,and yet1 across all       
boundaries1 across the frontier of the  
suburbs1 what is this strange scrap of  
the real ,may of the natural world      
dropped into the midst of the ,may of   
,london8 ,a scrap of that true spring   
alighted in the midst of the very winter
 would hardly look so strange as this   
shred of the very spring in the spring  
of town4 ,it is but some accidental     
grass or leaf that has been shed and    
sown by some west wind upon the edges of
 the tiles of a little old poor roof in 
town4 ,not into the parks did it fly1   

not amongst the flower-walks or on the  
great sward1 emerald green4 ,it hovered 
and flitted into the middle of town1 a  
little flock of wild lives4 ,the        
enormous spring1 the ,may of all the    
earth1 unmarked1 disguised by a delusive
 likeness to the ,london spring1 has    
visited the town4 ,it is a dainty       
incognito4 ,it signals to those who     
know2 but if ,vestries recognised       
it--and supposing they cared enough for 
roofs of that kind1 which they do       
not--they would take that grass up by   
the roots4     ,,below ,,bridge   ,the  
first impression1 and1 needless to say1 
the longest1 is that of the many miles  
of wharves compared with the few miles  
of embankments1 drives1 and of the      
holiday river generally4 ,not only have 
the black and brown warehouses1 the     
chimneys1 and the cranes possession of  
the whole right bank of the ,london     
,thames1 but they hold both banks of the
 lower ,thames through league-long      
reaches and noble curves1 and such      

changes of aspect1 sky1 and direction as
 renew the scene by the rule of the sky4
   ,illustration3 ,below ,bridge4       
,besides this slow variation of light1  
in which the view wheels under the      
wheeling cloud1 there is no lack of     
variety along the dusky banks of the    
river of commerce4 ,the subsidence of   
height along the warehouses as the river
 draws further and further from the     
middle of ,london is an incident of     
continuous interest1 interrupted now and
 then1 but holding on persistently1     
until the carrying river flows through a
 dark-gabled1 low1 and long village     
towards the eastern woods and heights   
and the further fields4   ,illustration3
 ,,below ,,bridge4   ,of really old     
buildings1 wooden and small1 and in any 
conventional sense interesting1 there is
 little indeed1 but such as it is it    
takes the eye instantly4 ,looking along 
the swarthy1 unequal frontage of brick  
houses that are no houses--somewhat as  
the biblia abiblia of ,charles ,lamb are

 among books1--you find the face of a   
single human little house1 its timber   
looking old1 delicate1 and pale among   
the bricks2 a ,limehouse                
harbour-master's title is written across
 the face1 and it is in fact dwelt      
in--propped in the serried row that has 
the sightless aspect of a barn4 ,there  
is therefore almost nothing of what used
 to be called the picturesque4          
,nevertheless1 the whole continuous line
 has far more approach to beauty than   
any street of 'handsome' houses with    
columns and porticoes in the whole of   
western ,london2 moreover1 it is much   
finer than ,regent ,street4 ,for the    
form of the normal warehouse is anything
 but bad2 there is a good deal of plain 
wall1 which--unless a building be in    
every way wrong--gives dignity2 the     
windows are not too many1 and for a mile
 at once the general repeated form is   
that of a single gable and a flat front4
 ,with this you cannot have anything    
entirely corrupt4  ,true1 now and then  

there is a region or tract of           
buildings--'works1' these seem to be1   
not warehouses--that touch the extremity
 of possible ugliness and dreariness1   
and are flat-roofed1 rectangular1 and1  
without exaggeration1 black4 ,these are 
very few--two or three at the most--and 
all on the right bank4 ,otherwise the   
skyline of buildings is low1 broken1    
pointed1 and very various4  ,low as it  
is1 it is always--seen from the deck of 
a boat--the very skyline4 ,from that low
 point of view the scene is made of     
river and boats1 warehouses1 and sky4   
,of the thronging town beyond1 on either
 bank1 nothing appears2 you have got rid
 of streets1 and1 with streets1 of all  
the movement1 the rattle1 the people1   
the inland perspectives4 ,the face of   
river-side buildings looks almost       
unbroken2 it lets no glimpse pass       
through4 ,there might be marshes or     
fields beyond2 it is only by the map    
that you know these two dark banks to be
 the edges and hems of cities4  ,the    

swarthiness1 the darkness of the        
colour--a brownish grey--is to be       
insisted upon2 yet to none but a        
careless eye does the lower ,thames seem
 all brown and grey4 ,the dull hues are 
shot with one single prevailing         
colour--red4 ,innumerable red-tiled     
roofs are seen as the turn of the river 
shows their dusky sides2 iron sheds are 
ruddled with the red that signs flocks  
of country sheep2 shutters are red over 
warehouse windows 7this is a ,sunday    
view71 and everywhere are the red sails 
of ,venice1 dyed in the selfsame dye1   
only differently lighted4 ,even when    
there is a difficulty in fixing the     
place of this negroid blush1 it is      
perceptibly there4 ,it is latent1 even  
when no red sail rises between grey     
water and grey sky2 it lurks in hollows 
and inlets so darkly as to be almost    
black4 ,then suddenly the scarlet of a  
huge black and scarlet steamer comes    
along and gives you the colour without a
 shred of mystery1 without charm1 and   

with the most definite division4        
,besides the red1 there is nothing that 
is coloured except a stack of timber now
 and then--raw wood with precisely the  
colours of a wheatfield in ,august--and 
the piled-up hay of a red-sailed barge  
loaded down to the water4 ,these are not
 many on the ,sunday river1 but ,sunday 
clears the colours by clearing the air4 
,there is exceedingly little smoke2 its 
sign is upon the whole river-side1 it   
has re-drawn everything in black1 as a  
child might go over a water-colour with 
his black pencils1 but between you and  
the natural clouds there is nothing but 
fresh air1 quick with the movement that 
seems perpetually to follow this grey   
waterway4 ,or now and then1 at long     
intervals1 a single flimsy puff of smoke
 comes between mast and sky2 it is      
brown1 the steam is white1 and the cloud
 silver grey2 and through each of these 
three with a various gleam filters the  
flying sunshine4  ,sunday seals the     
faces of the barns and turns the key    

upon the leagues of wharves2 but it     
leaves all the cranes and masts etched  
in their thousands upon the low horizon4
 ,these make the thicket of the         
,thames-side1 a deciduous1 narrow wood  
winding east1 south-east1 and north1 and
 standing everywhere in its brief winter
 of a day1 having shed sails and burdens
 and put away noise4 ,there is nothing  
in the handsome ,london of high houses  
so delicate as these lifted lances      
against the sky4 ,hop-gardens or        
vineyards1 or the slender rows of sticks
 that carry pea plants and beans in     
rustic gardens1 make the same play with 
light1 and let it through as fine a     
design4   ,illustration3 ,a ,back       
,street4   ,here is nothing of the sharp
 black and white detail that is the most
 salient thing in ,london streets2      
everything is painted softly2 all the   
darks are dull2 in a word1 the scene is 
simple1 and this the streets are never4 
,it is simplicity1 indeed1 that makes   
all the buildings 7except only the      

'works' above mentioned7 more than      
tolerable4 ,there are no advertisements4
 ,this means much to eyes too well used 
to those shreds and tatters of the wall4
 ,that commerce which makes so much     
paltry show in the ,west is here        
perfectly grave and quiet2 it makes     
serious announcements1 not              
advertisements1 of the things that      
occupy navies4 ,you see ',pickles' and  
other names that launch a thousand      
ships1 written large over various       
landing-places1 and the names of the    
owners of warehouses are broad across   
their fronts2 or you are reminded how   
little you know of the affairs of the   
place by the frequent name of           
',sufferance ,wharf' among the cranes4  
,it cannot possibly be said that this   
lettering is beautiful1 but it is not   
nearly so bad as the lettering in the   
streets we know4 ,needless to say1 you  
shall not see a scrap of gilding below  
bridge1 except a momentary tawdriness   
near the pier of some excursion place1  

where there are unseen ,cockney gardens 
at hand--no gilding1 nor white1 nor any 
kind of blue4 ,seeing that bad blue is  
the worst thing in the far-off town of  
paint and pleasure1 the dark and reddish
 river-side of work has here again one  
of its obscure advantages4              
,illustration3 ,,st4 ,,paul',s ,,from   
,,watling ,,street4   ,the work1 almost 
all pausing in this summer ,sunday1 is  
obviously1 to judge by its instruments  
and chips1 mainly the inhuman work of   
machines4 ,nevertheless1 wherever there 
are boats there is that arm of ,hercules
 which is heroic1 and therefore greater1
 though much weaker1 than the arm of    
iron2 and even on this day you may see  
the toil of the arm against the mass of 
the heavy river1 as two men stand to row
 their broad barge up stream4 ,it is the
 most primitive contest after all4      
,their figures strain back on the long  
oar until they are stretched nearly     
straight horizontally before they slowly
 gather themselves and grow erect again4

 ,nothing suits the river so well as the
 barge with its level load1 flat as the 
water itself4 ,nothing a-tiptoe there2  
but the very surface of the world       
reaching to the sea1 and the long river 
feeling for that level far inland4  ,the
 dusky voyage darkens1 for the ,thames  
turns towards the north2 anon it takes a
 pale grey splendour1 the sky shines1   
and the delicate intricacy of masts that
 mar nothing of the simple view seems to
 be rather itself luminous than dark    
against the light2 flying birds are lost
 as they pass in the upper brilliance4  
,it is but that the ,thames has swung   
towards the south again4     ,,the      
,,roads   ,on ,westminster ,bridge at   
early morning ,wordsworth thought of the
 heart of ,london1 but a view of ,london
 in the long day and night of movement1 
when the mystery of sleep is away1      
suggests not the involuntary heart of   
men1 but their wilful feet4 ,the roads1 
which are lonely messengers in the      
far-off country1 crowd together here1   

and hustle one another to give footing  
to the tramp of the people4 ,london has 
a fantastic look1 as though there were  
nothing to do but make haste to be gone4
 ,to look at ,london from some point of 
height--a rare opportunity--is to trace 
these ways of passionate escape4 ,the   
roads1 indeed1 seem eager1 but you know 
that the crowds who1 by these curves and
 knots1 these straight lines1 and these 
intent1 narrow1 dark grey levels1 traced
 with narrower steel1 elude the town1   
are in no more than jog-trot haste1 and 
wear no look of fugitives4 ,of them and 
of their detail there is no sign in this
 distant prospect4 ,the movement of the 
people in ,london is here no more       
perceptible than the molecular motion in
 a diamond4   ,illustration3 ,a ,coffee 
,stall4   ,but the roads are all        
expressive of this energy of flight from
 a centre4 ,they are1 as it were1 signs 
of a perpetual explosion2 they are the  
fringe of the mle1 the shooting1        
streaming outbreaks of the photosphere  

of ,london4 ,they hunt and are hunted4  
,they fly from the city of confusion4   
,it is only by escaping that they become
 visible1 and out of the uncertainty of 
the smoke the hasty roads clear         
themselves as they make for light and   
the open ground4 ,it seems as though the
 steady strength of their curves did in 
itself express some force and impulse4  
,the railways run2 their foreshortened  
sweeps and reaches look like the        
swinging and swaying of resolute motion4
 ,the town would shoulder them1 but they
 evade and slip through1 slender and    
keen1 with a stroke of their flying     
heels4 ,they crawl1 but they crawl with 
the dominant level and liberty of flight
 in air4  ,they begin in the tangle of  
the town1 but smoothly untie themselves 
and pass away single and swift4 ,no     
other road looks so resolute in flight  
as the rail4 ,the others jostle one     
another as they hurry from town1 and    
must needs relax their eagerness in     
order to climb the hills--brief and     

little ones though these are4 ,the roads
 pause on the mounds1 they hesitate at  
crossways1 and they dip into slight and 
shallow valleys1 whence they do not see 
the riot of walls and roofs from out of 
which they go4  ,the azure ,june hardly 
leaves a trace of the local grey of     
smoke4 ,all1 by some accident of aspect1
 is a vague blue1 although the smoke1   
seen from the ,greenwich heights1 leaves
 nothing unveiled1 cancels the horizon1 
and barely lets the lovely dome of ,st4 
,paul's show a dark blue form upon the  
close background of thick and sunny air4
 ,and blue1 like the rest1 is that one  
wide road which takes here so majestic a
 sweep--the river4 ,it is the river of  
chimneys2 they stand1 on either bank1 as
 unequal in growth as a group of        
children2 they crowd together1 they     
stand apart1 they straggle1 but if they 
have any law1 it is the river's4 ,they  
mark its path as reeds and rushes might 
do in meadows4 ,the hidden reaches are  
traced by this black growth1 followed   

and discovered4 ,the chimneys will      
hardly let the river go1 but cling to   
the track of his waters when the town is
 dwindling eastwards1 and stand         
conspicuous among the flats when the    
houses have at last1 at last1 ceased4   
,apart from the river they are almost as
 rare in ,london as in ,naples1 and it  
is not to them we owe the chief part of 
our 'sky1' but to the steamers1 to the  
trains1 and1 more than all1 to the      
unnumbered houses4 ,if ever ,london is  
to be restored to her own mists--not to 
great brightness1 but to the tender     
exhalations that are now burlesqued by  
smoke1 to the true climate of nature1   
the marshes1 and the north1 it will     
obviously be the work of laws touching  
the houses rather than the factories4   
,the river is perpetually overhung1     
involved1 tangled1 in that indefinite   
and unshapely cloud4 ,it looks blue from
 the ,greenwich hill1 but not blue with 
the blue of pure sunny waters2 it is    
blue because blue is the trick of this  

midsummer light seen from this one      
point4 ,the blue road lies open and     
flat1 from the dazzling confusion of the
 west1 whence it comes1 to the dimmer   
confusion of the north1 whither the     
great curve tends4 ,it is a road more   
level than the tyrannously level rails1 
but there is no haste in it4 ,the       
unceasing motion of the tidal ,thames   
seems to make it wait about the bridges 
of ,london4 ,the accustomed versifier   
himself will hardly bid it flow on1 so  
often is it seen to flow back4 ,because 
it is so constantly chidden and driven  
by the sea1 the long tendency1 brought  
from its first source and kept between  
so many fields and over all the noisy   
weirs1 is concealed4 ,that flowing lurks
 still1 but you cannot find it among the
 rhythmic tides4 ,it is not expressed1  
and there is no sense of the final sea  
in the coming and going of these turbid 
waters4 ,the unceasing seaward flow is  
their secret4  ,but it is only upon this
 ambiguous road of the river that any   

human motion is perceptible in this     
distant view4 ,barges are seen to float 
heavy and flat1 and at certain points   
there is the vague suggestion of some   
stir at wharf or pier4 ,otherwise the   
scene keeps all its hurry out of sight  
and hearing4 ,but for the vague shifting
 and alteration of the light1 ,london   
might be a painted city4 ,the little    
figure of man is so quenched1           
incredibly4 ,his town keeps the black   
crowds and their voices out of reach1   
and it is difficult to believe in the   
noise1 so deaf is the distance4  ,london
 is at the mercy of her roads1 and it is
 no wonder the fancy should give them   
life4 ,and now it is for their coming1  
not their going1 that they seem in      
haste4 ,the town has covered up the     
original and all-fruitful earth2 her    
pavements seal up all the springs of    
earthly life1 and her roads are loaded  
with the fruits of earth unsealed4 ,it  
is upon her1 then1 that the roads are   
turned with boat1 train1 and cart       

charged with her bread4 ,what flocks and
 herds are daily hunted into the        
unproductive town1 the town wherefrom   
nothing1 nothing--for all its           
factories--takes birth2 the town that   
visibly burns up1 with never-ceasing    
reek of the never-ceasing burning1 the  
substance of the world4 ,the flame of   
life is fed fully in a thousand forms1  
and the flame of fire1 smouldering in   
the furnaces at the foot of these       
chimneys1 is the sign of the enormous   
sacrifice4     ,illustration3 ,,victoria
 ,,tower1 ,,westminster4     ,,the      
,,smouldering ,,city   ,because the town
 covers her fires1 sits darkling in her 
daily and nightly burning1 and          
sequesters flame from flame in a        
thousand thousand little chambers of    
their own1 there is but small show of   
the perpetual devouring whereby fire    
abides among men as a long companion4   
,ariel of a hotter name and of a wilder 
element1 willing and brief1 delicate and
 eager1 quick to finish and be gone1 a  

hasty servant1 is fire the mere         
visitant1 unused to these long hours4   
,but fire in ,london never escapes4 ,it 
is bound in perpetual business1 and if  
it flashes away for a moment it is      
recaptured in another flash1 and if it  
slips away under cover of ashes it is   
overtaken and bound to the task again4  
,man1 then1 willingly pays the wages of 
such a wildness in servitude1 and spends
 mines and forests to keep the mobile   
creature close within his gates4        
,illustration3 ,rain1 ,smoke and        
,traffic4   ,if there is little show of 
that multitudinous presence1 there is a 
broadcast sign of it4 ',no smoke without
 a fire'2 and the sky of ,london        
continually betrays her house-mate4 ,it 
is the flag signalling the presence of  
the unseen creature2 not by colour and  
brilliance like its own1 but by a       
folding and unfolding of banners of     
darkness4 ,the quicker and hotter the   
enclosed fire1 the duller is the sign4  
,it is a sign that denies and confesses 

at once4 ,not a curl of flame1 not a    
glow of furnace is visible under the    
hurrying blackness of river-side smoke  
that hangs house and wall with the grey 
tokens of invisible and splendid flame4 
,fire is the blush1 and when ,london    
shows colour it is the cool red1 not the
 hot4  ,such colour has been all alight 
on many midsummer evenings4 ,hardly a   
town away from these dark latitudes     
could show a fresher or fuller flash of 
dyes4 ,a coloured sky1 a coloured sun1  
coloured cloud1 the red of brick softly 
empurpled1 or made rosy1 or turned a    
frolic scarlet1 and the green of trees1 
yet undarkened by the later days of     
summer--all this stirs and lightens     
under the soft hurry of a west wind1 so 
that a drive between seven and eight    
o'clock is a surprise of red and blue4  
,white is wanting--the white surface    
that would look beautiful in western    
sunshine4 ,all the white is bad and     
unfortunate1 whether it is the paint of 
,regent ,street or the stucco of        

suburbs2 and where there is no beauty of
 white there must be much lacking4 ,it  
is grotesque to find the silly oil-paint
 gloss of the ,quadrant glazing back the
 tender sun1 where one looked for white 
made luminous4 ,seldom does the country 
landscape fail--especially where it is  
gently populous--to hold up some        
tempered white to the rosy sun2 where   
there is no chalk or white quarry1 or   
cliff1 or white hawthorn-tree or white  
cherry1 there is the welcome whitewash  
of a cottage wall4 ,london1 undecked    
with its white1 and wearing little or no
 yellow1 has nevertheless a choice of   
these kindling reds of her various      
bricks2 and so decked with the colours  
of fire she is at her freshest4 ,it is  
as when you touch the red of a deep     
cheek and find it cool4  ,the general   
fire has no part in the coloured        
evening2 that sunny wind blows the sign 
of flame away4 ,in the thicket of fire  
there is no red brick or green tree1 or 
rosy cloud1 or any light blue sky4      

,those who find something to complain of
 in the rebuilding of the west of       
,london in brick1 because the           
architecture is not everywhere what it  
should be1 are hardly thankful enough   
for the colour4 ,the builder may build  
amiss1 but he builds with a colour that 
becomes all our skies1 whether grey or  
bright4 ,one day he will1 perhaps1 begin
 a fashion of using much more white1 in 
brick and tile1 and the fiery town will 
look relieved from her suggestion of    
fever4 ,ruddy roofs abound in the poorer
 town1 where red walls are absent2 they 
are built up with grey and black1       
needless to say1 in such a manner that  
their old gables are hidden in square   
frontages and straight cornices1 and    
their colours made invisible except to a
 view from above4 ,it is from a high    
railway that you may see the darkened   
but still soft and charming colour      
spreading from roof to roof of the      
cottage-streets of older ,london1 until 
it looks--fading eastwards--as though it

 were itself some effect of a ,london   
sunset4 ,that flush almost reaches the  
regions of the red-hot eastern furnaces 
hidden coldly under black and grey4     
,the waters of the ,thames could hardly 
quench so great a multitude of          
imprisoned flames4 ,fire is the secret  
of the ,thames itself1 lurking as it    
does in the ships and boats2 the black  
barges are charged to feed it1 and the  
airs that wander with the river fan it  
to its perpetual work4 ,it is trained   
within its little shrines1 and leaps in 
chains and captivity1 and runs in narrow
 courses4 ,with its cold ashes and its  
cold grime1 with the burden of its chill
 refuse1 all the remote roads and byways
 of the town seem to be utterly choked  
and filled4  ,when the ,great ,fire of  
,london came out of its hiding-places   
and took life in the air of day1 it made
 ashes of more evident and conspicuous  
things1 but it can hardly have made more
 ashes and cinders than it makes daily  
under cover4 ,london is not destroyed   

again1 but it has become the place of   
immeasurable destruction4 ,moreover1    
since the smouldering city is a city of 
men1 the life of men1 so multiplied1    
makes ,london a very centre of fires    
insatiable4 ,that life burns within five
 millions of furnaces4 ,life feeds      
itself by fire1 but out of ,london we   
are accustomed to see it at its         
consuming work side by side with the    
signs of unceasing re-creation4 ,man1   
woman1 and child1 sprinkled over the    
labouring land1 are separate flames far 
apart like the marsh flames of wildfire4
 ,between them graze the sheep1 the     
wheat turns brown1 or the apple reddens1
 and the husbandman's life itself is    
immediately paid again in labour to the 
soil4 ,whereas ,london visibly works at 
nothing but transformation4  ,the       
delicate fire1 that plays and vanishes  
elsewhere1 but cannot vanish in ,london1
 has nowhere else so gross and dead a   
following4 ,even in the north1 where the
 factory makes a denser cloud1 you find 

the blue close by1 and the horizon      
cleaner1 or so it seems4 ,little distant
 things on the verge1 the lashes of the 
eyes of earth and sky1 are more         
perceptible than they are in ,london1   
even with a west wind4 ,here the fiery  
,ariel has no delicate companionship1 no
 one near but ,caliban4   ,illustration 
,edinburgh3 ,t4 and ,a4 ,,constable1    
,printers to ,her ,majesty