London, 'isn't it
appalling? All these streets--thousands of them--in this tiny compass!
Think of the miles and miles of drab monotony this map contains! I
pointed out to him (it is a thinker's penalty to be always pointing
things out to people) that his words were nonsense. I told him that the
streets on this map were no more monotonous than the rivers on the map
of England. Just as there were no two rivers alike, every one of them
having its own speed, its own windings, depths, and shallows, its own
way with the reeds and grasses, so had every street its own claim to an
especial nymph, forasmuch as no two streets had exactly the same
proportions, the same habitual traffic, the same type of shops or
houses, the same inhabitants. In some cases, of course, the difference
between the 'atmosphere' of two streets is a subtle difference. But it
is always there, not less definite to any one who searches for it than
the difference between (say) Hill Street and Pont Street, High Street
Kensington and High Street Notting Hill, Fleet Street and the Strand. I
have here purposely opposed to each other streets that have obvious
points of likeness. But what a yawning gulf of difference is between
each couple! Hill Street, with its staid distinction, and Pont Street,
with its eager, pushful 'smartness,' its air de petit parvenu, its
obvious delight in having been 'taken up'; High Street Notting Hill,
down-at-heels and unashamed, with a placid smile on its broad ugly
face, and High Street Kensington, with its traces of former beauty, and
its air of neatness and self-respect, as befits one who in her day has
been caressed by royalty; Fleet Street, that seething channel of
business, and the Strand, that swollen river of business, on whose
surface float so many aimless and unsightly objects. In every one of
these thoroughfares my mood and my manner are differently affected. In
Hill Street, instinctively, I walk very slowly--sometimes, even with a
slight limp, as one recovering from an accident in the hunting-field. I
feel very well-bred there, and, though not clever, very proud, and
quick to resent any familiarity from those whom elsewhere I should
regard as my equals. In Pont Street my demeanour is not so calm and
measured. I feel less sure of myself, and adopt a slight swagger. In
High Street, Kensington, I find myself dapper and respectable, with a
timid leaning to the fine arts. In High Street, Notting Hill, I become
frankly common. F