Nocturne in Grey and Gold – Piccadilly (1881-1883) – James Abbot McNeill Whistler
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While England in general is extraordinarily prone to
fogs, there have been records of London having its own pollution-induced
‘extra’ mist since the sixteenth century. By the early nineteenth century, this
was a cloud around thirty miles across, which often formed over the city. This
phenomenon was due to the dramatic urbanisation and industrialization,
producing enormous amounts of air pollution. The problem worsened with each
passing decade, the 1880s seeing the most extreme fog. The word ‘fog’ means a
white mist to us, but Victorian ‘fog’ was an extraordinary array of colours, nicknamed
a ‘peasouper’ due to its hue and consistency. Varying with the composition of
the day’s pollution, this fog could be ‘grey-yellow, of a deep orange, and even
black at the same time’. Visiting London, Nathaniel Hawthorne described it as
‘…more like a distillation of mud than anything else; the ghost of mud, the
spiritualised medium of departed mud, through which the departed citizens of
London probably tread in the Hades whither they are translated’. Actual flakes
of soot drifted through this mist, coating buildings and statues. This ‘ghost
of mud’ was accompanied by an awful stench, a ‘nauseous compound flavour of all
the sulphates and phosphates’, as it was described in Illustrated London News in 1867.
Besides
its disagreeable appearance and smell, the fog was a very real hazard. People
who already suffered from respiratory disorders such as asthma regularly died
because of the complications the fog brought on. Public health records show
that deaths due to respiratory problems doubled in one particularly bad week of
fog. The low visibility proved fatal to many; people stumbled off obscured
pavements into the paths of carriages or walked off the docks into the Thames.
During 1873 alone, nineteen deaths resulted from people falling into the river
due to the fog. In fact, it seems that ‘fog’ is a generous term to apply to the
poisonous miasma that regularly appeared in the streets of the world’s greatest
urban centre.
So
why was nothing done? The main reason was simply apathy and adherence to
traditions. Although the fogs were dreadful, they were an infrequent
occurrence. While London always suffered from some degree of pollution, fog
only became acute during a few weeks in the year. The severe ones were
seasonal, starting in the autumn and ending in the spring. People with healthy
lungs remained almost completely unaffected, it was only those already prey to
disease who suffered. Perhaps the most important reason for nothing being done
was that a huge percentage of the air pollution came from household fires, and
Londoners refused to sacrifice the comfort of the hearth to public safety. There
were political campaigns undertaken to improve the atmosphere, but all of them
were largely unsuccessful, because while several managed to put limits on
pollution from factories and gas-works, the problem of home fires remained.
Etching by famous illustrator John Tenniel from the
13 November 1880 edition of Punch weekly magazine. Respiratory diseases such as
pneumonia and asthma are spread by the ‘Fog Demon’ over London.
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So
fog became a ‘London particular’ and writers and artists began to not only
include it in their works, but often praise it. Charles Dickens wrote of the foggy
city in his usual exaggerated and satirical way in Bleak House; ‘…gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death
of the sun. Foot passengers, jostling one another’s umbrellas, in a general
infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold as street-corners, where
tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since
the day broke (if the day ever broke)…’ Byron described it as a ‘huge, dun
Cupola’. In 1805, Benjamin Robert Haydon already saw the fog in terms of
grandeur, calling it a ‘sublime canopy that shrouds the City of the world’.
Later artists were similarly rhapsodic in their descriptions. James Whistler,
describing a trip to the sometimes-fatal docks, wrote ‘the evening mist clothes
the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose
themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the
warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens,
and fairy-land is before us…’ Monet was also fascinated by the fog’s visual
power; ‘It is the fog that gives [London] its magnificent breadth. Those
massive, regular blocks become grandiose within that mysterious cloak’.
Artistic fascination with the beauty of London’s
fogs: Houses
of Parliament: Effect of Sunlight in the Fog (1904) by Claude Monet.
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This
strange mist has a darker side in literature. Fog is one of the primary ways
Robert Louis Stevenson creates an atmosphere of obscurity and horror in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
In the novel, the way fog alternately conceals and reveals areas of London
(especially the more sordid areas) parallels the way parts of the human psyche
are concealed and revealed.
A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours… for a moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The dismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with it muddy ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which had never been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this mournful re-invasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer’s eyes, like a district of some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind, besides, were of the gloomiest dye… the fog lifted a little and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low French eating-house, a shop for the retail of penny number and twopenny salads, many ragged children huddled in the doorways, and many women of different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a morning glass; and the next moment the fog settled down again upon that part, as brown as umber, and cut him off from his blackguardly surroundings. (Stevenson, p 29-30)Dickens also sees the fog as transforming the world into something supernatural in A Christmas Carol, when the fog ‘was so dense… that… the houses opposite were mere phantoms.’
The
association of the deceptive nature of the fog with other types of deception
and criminality runs through Victorian literature. In Bleak House, Dickens describes court proceedings in relation to the
impenetrable mists;
Never can there come fog too thick, never can there come mud and mire too deep, to assort with the groping and floundering condition which this High Court of Chancery, most pestilent of hoary sinners, holds, this day, in the sight of heaven and earth… On such an afternoon, some score members of the High Court of Chancery bar ought to be – as here they are – mistily engaged in one of ten thousand stages of an endless cause, tripping one another up on slippery precedents, groping knee-deep in technicalities…The author of the Victorian sex-scapade My Secret Life testified that ‘Foggy weather is propitious to amatory caprices. Harlots tell me that they usually do good business during that state of atmosphere… Timid men get bold and speak to women when they otherwise would not…’ Fog wreathes the city in mystery for all but those who are familiar with its every aspect, therefore in The Sign of Four ‘…what with our pace, the fog, and my own limited knowledge of London, I lost my bearings, and knew nothing, save that we seemed to be going a very long way. Sherlock Holmes was never at fault, however, and he muttered the names as the cab rattled through squares and in and out by tortuous by-streets.’ It is only Holmes, intimately familiar with the criminal side of the city, who can trace the way through the fog. It is on a particularly foggy night that in The Portrait of Dorian Grey, Dorian has his fateful meeting with his painter ex-friend Basil, exclaiming that ‘In this fog… I can't even recognize Grosvenor Square. I believe my house is somewhere about here, but I don't feel at all certain about it.’ Dorian ushers Basil inside, saying ‘Come in, or the fog will get into the house’, as if trying to prevent the evil the fog conceals from entering their interactions.
Photograph of London by Leonard Misonne, 1899
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One
of the most dramatic appearances by fog in Victorian literature is in the
novella The Doom of the Great City
(1880) by William Delisle Hay, which has been mercifully forgotten today. In
it, the smog becomes so thick that the citizens of the London perish by the
thousands, and the narrator returns to a post-apocalyptic scene of horror. Fog
is again associated from the first with crime, as Hay ascribes the large number
of prostitutes to its presence. The novel culminates with the idea that thus
London has been punished for its crimes; ‘O London! surely, great and manifold
as were thy wickedness, thy crimes, thy faults, who stayed to think of these in
the hour of thy awful doom, who dared at that terrible moment to say thy
sentence was deserved?’ Although it is for the most part a remarkably bad
example of the most overdramatic sort of purple prose, this work shows the
association of fog with criminality, sexual promiscuity, and the dangerous
parts of human nature that had better remain concealed.
Victorian
London had its own breed of fog, next to which today’s is nothing, and knowing
the nature of which gives us a better understanding of contemporary texts. Our
modern mists cannot be compared to the Victorian miasma which caused men to
wander off into rivers or lose themselves hopelessly in familiar streets, and keeping
in mind its density, its unnatural colour and repulsive smell, it is not
surprising that ‘fog’ provoked fear, horror, fascination, dark thoughts and
dark actions.
Bibliography:
Jackson, Lee. Dirty Old London: The Victorian Fight against
Filth. New Have: Yale University Press, 2014. Print.
Hay, William Delisle. The Doom of the Great City: Being the
Narrative of a Survivor, Written A.D. 1942. Newman & Co: London, 1880.
Print.
Flanders, Judith. The Victorian City: Everyday Life in
Dickens’ London. Atlantic Books: London, 2012. Print.
Dickens, Charles. A Christmas Carol. Penguin: London,
2007. Print
Dickens, Charles. Bleak House. Everyman’s Library: London,
1991. Print
Stevenson, Robert Louis. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Penguin: London, 1994. Print.
Ackroyd, Peter. London: The Biography. Chatto &
Windus: London, 2000. Print.
Sutherland, Daniel E. Whistler: A Life for Art’s Sake. New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2014. Print.
Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Sign of Four. Penguin: London, 2007.
Print.
Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. Wordsworth
Classics: Ware, 1992. Print.
Image sources:
Whistler, James
Abbot McNeill. Nocturne in Grey and Gold – Piccadilly. Digital image. National
Gallery of Ireland. National Gallery of Ireland, n.d. Web. 20 Oct. 2015.
Tenniel, John. "Old
King Coal" and the Fog Demon. Digital image. Heidelberg University
Library. Heidelberg University, n.d. Web. 20 Oct. 2015.
Monet, Claude. Houses
of Parliament: Effect of Sunlight in the Fog. Digital image. Wikiart:
Visual Art Encyclopedia. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Oct. 2015.
Misonne, Leonard.
London, 1899. Digital image. The Red List. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Oct. 2015.
Wow! I never realized fog was such a catalyst in Victorian stories. I can't decide if knowing it was true, that London was sometimes covered in such thick fog, is more or less scary than the stories! I really liked how you showed the fog through literature and art. It illustrates how the fog was a part of the culture and time period. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI found really interesting your blog entry because I have never imagined how a "simple" thing as fog was so an important aspect for Victorian authors in writing their novels. Very interesting indeed! Thanks for your blog!
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