Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1891-06-27
ASCENT LONDON.
z ~ the English Lived Six Centuries
Ago.


Ago.
Who can rebuild before the eye of the
mind y single ordinary dwelling of the
vanished London of the middle of the
thirteenth century? 1t was dwarfish.
suualid structure of such crazy unsub-
stantiality that with stout iron crook
and two strong cords, provided by the
ward. it might be pulled down and
dragged off speedily in case of fire;
structure of one story jutting over low
ground floor, with another jut of caves
above, its roof perchance engrailed with
gables, its front bearing an odd resem.
blance to the back of a couple of huge
stairs, and the whole most rickety,
tumblcdown, topheavy, fantastical thing.
Chmneys were fairly in vogue then, so
it had them, squat, square, widemouthed,
faced with white plaster, red tiles, or
gray pebble work. Red tiles covered its
roof; its walls were of rough planed
planks, or wooden framework filled
with composite of straw and clay, but
tressed with posts, and crossed this way
and that with supporting beams-the
whole daubed over with whitewash, of
which the weather soon made graywash.
In front was stairway, sometimes COW
cred, sometimes not, or a stepladder set
slantwise against the wall, for an en-
trance to the upper story. The door
ways were narrow and low, the windows
also; and the latter, darkened with over
brows of wooden shutters, propped up
from beneath, and sticking out like lCng,
slender awnings, were further darkened
by sashes of parchment, linen, or thin
shaven horn, for glass came from Fland-
ers, and was costly and rare.
Such, joint and seam and tile being
loosened into crack and Granny and crew
ice everywhere, was the dwelling of the
London citizen as the eye might see it in
the middle of the thirteenth century.
Multiply that dwelling into tortuous
and broken perspective of like buildings,
some joined by party walls, some with
spaces between, all pent rooted or gable
peaked, heavy eaved, stub chimneyed,
narrow latticed, awning shuttered, stair
cased, post buttressed, beam crossed,
dusky red rooted, dingy white walled,
and low under the overhanging vastness
London street. which shall be foul and
narrow. with open drains, footways
roughly tagged, and horseway deep with
slushy mire overstrewn with ashes,
shards, and offal, and smelling abomina
bly,. There were. indeed, at that period,
thinly interspersed here and there, houses
of somewhat better description solidly
built of stone and timber, though at best
strangely deficient in comfort and con-
venience, according to the fashion of
that most inconvenient and uncomforta-
BILE age. Here and there, too, for those
We're the times of the feudal soldier and
priest, rose in dreadful beauteous con-
trast with the squalid city the architect
ural grandeurs of church and cathedral,
or the stately house or palace of bishop
or earl. But all around stretched dwell
ings which our poorest modern house
eXcels, and on those dwellings all evils
and discomforts that can befall had their
quarry.
Light came dim, and sunshine dimly
glimmering into their darkened rooms.
Summer heats made ovens of them. The
old gray family of London fogs rose
from the marshes north of the city walls,
from the cities intersecting rivulets, from
the Thames below, and crept in at every
opening to make all dark and chill with
in. Down their squat chimneys swept
the smoke, choking and binding. Rains
such as even rainy England knows not
now soaked them through for weeks to-
gether. Cold such as English winters
have forgotten now pierced with grip
ing blast, and silent shifting snow, to
their shivering inmates. Foul exhala-
tions from the filthy streets hung around
them an air of poison, or, rising from
the cesspools, of which every house had
one within, discharged themselves with
deadly maladies. Lightnings stabbed
their roofs or rent their walls, hunting
for those they sheltered. Contlagration,
lurking in spark, upspread in dragonish
flame, and roared through them devour-
ing. Whirlwind swept through them
bowling, and tossed them down by
fifties. Pestilence breathed through
them in recurring seasons, and left their
rooms aghast with corpses. Civic riot or
intestine war stormed often near them,
and brought them death and sorrow.
Famine arose every few years and walked
through them on his way through Eng
land, leaving their tenants lean and pale
or lifeless. Often into them broke the
midnight robber, single or in gangs I;
often to them came the gatherer of taxes
or of tithes; upon them hung perpetually
all the bloodsuckers, every vampire
which an age of ignorance and tyranny
could spawn; and in them herded low
lusts and passions, fiendish bigotries,
crazy superstitions, british illiteracy,
and all that darkens and depraves the
soul. For that was the mournful mid
night of our mortal life, centuries ago.
The old, sad stars that governed our con-
ditions still kept their forceful station
above the brawl of brutal and Internal
dreams; and one alone, now risen from
Geber's east, hung dewy bright with the
worlds hope and promise, while Science,
builder of life that is holy, beautiful,
and gay, was but wondrous newborn
child in Roger Bacon's cell, dreaming Of
things to come Atlantic Monthly.
Mrs. John Sherwood met Oliver Wen