For more than 600 years, Londoners alternately cursed and boasted about their famous fogs. In 1852, Charles Dickens wrote of leaden skies filled with black soot that resembled snowflakes "gone into mourning for the death of the sun." Some 60 years later, T. S. Eliot immortalized the ". . . yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes." Fog shrouded the malevolent doings of London villains from Jack the Ripper to Mr. Hyde, and was all too familiar to Sherlock Holmes, who frequently set forth from Baker Street picking his way through...
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