A late Victorian cosmopolite, Michael Henry Dziewicki, wrote an article about how beauty reveals itself in London by night. "Life is in movement," he wrote, "and here, what movement, what life!" The kind of motion that attracted him, however, was not the traffic's rush or the flowing in and out of a great tide of humanity but the gestures of children dancing, the turning arm of the organ-grinder under the flaring gas lamp, the rippling effect of light from windows reflected in the Thames, the passing of shadowy figures in the curling, shifting mist. In the harsh reality of day, he believed London to be in no way superior to many other great European cities. When skies were bright and clear, street life was about freedom - to carryon the enterprise of everyday life. But when the fog, "this dingy yellowish monster," descends, the imagination is set free and London becomes, he thought, "the most beautiful city in the world."!