In a few minutes the boat was immersed in the
down-pour which concealed it.
The elder of the two oarsmen was no other than the future
firebrand peacemaker, Miching Mallecho, our fierce little
Tartarin de Berlin. One wondered how he, who would not be
ruled, would come in turn to rule? That question is a
burning one; and may yet set the world in flames to solve it.
A comic little incident happened here to my own children.
There was but one bathing-machine. This, the two - a
schoolboy and his sister - used in the early morning. Being
rather late one day, they found it engaged; and growing
impatient the boy banged at the door of the machine, with a
shout in schoolboy's vernacular: 'Come, hurry up; we want to
dip.' Much to the surprise of the guilty pair, an answer,
also in the best of English, came from the inside: 'Go away,
you naughty boy.' The occupant was the Imperial Princess.
Needless to say the children bolted with a mingled sense of
mischief and alarm.
About this time I joined a society for the relief of
distress, of which Bromley Davenport was the nominal leader.
The 'managing director,' so to speak, was Dr. Gilbert, father
of Mr. W. S. Gilbert. To him I went for instructions. I
told him I wanted to see the worst. He accordingly sent me
to Bethnal Green. For two winters and part of a third I
visited this district twice a week regularly. What I saw in
the course of those two years was matter for a thoughtful -
ay, or a thoughtless - man to think of for the rest of his
days.
My system was to call first upon the clergyman of the parish,
and obtain from him a guide to the severest cases of
destitution. The guide would be a Scripture reader, and, as
far as I remember, always a woman. I do not know whether the
labours of these good creatures were gratuitous - they
themselves were certainly poor, yet singularly earnest and
sympathetic. The society supplied tickets for coal,
blankets, and food. Needless to say, had these supplies been
a thousand-fold as great, they would have done as little
permanent good as those at my command.
In Bethnal Green the principal industry is, or was, silk-
weaving by hand looms. Nearly all the houses were ancient
and dilapidated. A weaver and his family would occupy part
of a flat, consisting of two rooms perhaps, one of which
would contain his loom. The room might be about seven feet
high, nearly dark, lighted only by a lattice window, half of
the panes of which would be replaced by dirty rags or old
newspaper. As the loom was placed against the window the
light was practically excluded.
