SOME few years later, while travelling with my family inSwitzerland, we happened to be staying at Baveno on LagoMaggiore at the same time, and in the same hotel, as theCrown Prince and Princess of Germany. Their ImperialHighnesses occupied a suite of apartments on the first floor.
Our rooms were immediately above them. As my wife was knownto the Princess, occasional greetings passed from balcony tobalcony.
One evening while watching two lads rowing from the shore inthe direction of Isola Bella, I was aroused from mycontemplation of a gathering storm by angry vociferationsbeneath me. These were addressed to the youths in the boat.
The anxious father had noted the coming tempest; and, withhands to his mouth, was shouting orders to the younggentlemen to return. Loud and angry as cracked the thunder,the imperial voice o'ertopped it. Commands succeededadmonitions, and as the only effect on the rowers was obviousrecalcitrancy, oaths succeeded both: all in those throat-clearing tones to which the German language so consonantlylends itself. In a few minutes the boat was immersed in thedown-pour which concealed it.
The elder of the two oarsmen was no other than the futurefirebrand peacemaker, Miching Mallecho, our fierce littleTartarin de Berlin. One wondered how he, who would not beruled, would come in turn to rule? That question is aburning 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 - aschoolboy and his sister - used in the early morning. Beingrather late one day, they found it engaged; and growingimpatient the boy banged at the door of the machine, with ashout in schoolboy's vernacular: 'Come, hurry up; we want todip.' 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 ofmischief and alarm.
About this time I joined a society for the relief ofdistress, of which Bromley Davenport was the nominal leader.
The 'managing director,' so to speak, was Dr. Gilbert, fatherof Mr. W. S. Gilbert. To him I went for instructions. Itold him I wanted to see the worst. He accordingly sent meto Bethnal Green. For two winters and part of a third Ivisited this district twice a week regularly. What I saw inthe course of those two years was matter for a thoughtful -ay, or a thoughtless - man to think of for the rest of hisdays.
My system was to call first upon the clergyman of the parish,and obtain from him a guide to the severest cases ofdestitution. The guide would be a Scripture reader, and, asfar as I remember, always a woman. I do not know whether thelabours of these good creatures were gratuitous - theythemselves were certainly poor, yet singularly earnest andsympathetic. The society supplied tickets for coal,blankets, and food. Needless to say, had these supplies beena thousand-fold as great, they would have done as littlepermanent 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 ancientand dilapidated. A weaver and his family would occupy partof a flat, consisting of two rooms perhaps, one of whichwould contain his loom. The room might be about seven feethigh, nearly dark, lighted only by a lattice window, half ofthe panes of which would be replaced by dirty rags or oldnewspaper. As the loom was placed against the window thelight was practically excluded. The foulness of the air andfilth which this entailed may be too easily imagined. Acouple of cases, taken almost at random, will sample scoresas bad.
It is one of the darkest days of December. The Thames isnearly frozen at Waterloo Bridge. On the second floor of anold house in - Lane, in an unusually spacious room (or doesit only look spacious because there is nothing in it savefour human beings?) are a father, a mother, and a grown-upson and daughter. They scowl at the visitor as the Scripturereader opens the door. What is the meaning of the intrusion?
Is he too come with a Bible instead of bread? The four areseated side by side on the floor, leaning against the wall,waiting for - death. Bedsteads, chairs, table, and loomshave been burnt this week or more for fuel. The grate isempty now, and lets the freezing draught blow down thechimney. The temporary relief is accepted, but not withthanks. These four stubbornly prefer death to the work-house.
One other case. It is the same hard winter. The scene: asmall garret in the roof, a low slanting little skylight, nowcovered six inches deep in snow. No fireplace here, noventilation, so put your scented cambric to your nose, mynoble Dives. The only furniture a scanty armful of - whatshall we call it? It was straw once. A starving woman and ababy are lying on it, notwithstanding. The baby surely willnot be there to-morrow. It has a very bad cold - and themucus, and the - pah! The woman in a few rags - just a few -is gnawing a raw carrot. The picture is complete. There'snothing more to paint. The rest - the whole indeed, that isthe consciousness of it - was, and remains, with the Unseen.
You will say, 'Such things cannot be'; you will say, 'Thereare relieving officers, whose duty, etc., etc.' May be. Iam only telling you what I myself have seen. There is moregoes on in big cities than even relieving officers can copewith. And who shall grapple with the causes? That's thepoint.
Here is something else that I have seen. I have seen afamily of six in one room. Of these, four were brothers andsisters, all within, none over, their teens. There werethree beds between the six. When I came upon them they wereout of work, - the young ones in bed to keep warm. I tookthem for very young married couples. It was the Scripturereader who undeceived me. This is not the exception to therule, look you, but the rule itself. How will you deal withit? It is with Nature, immoral Nature and her heedlessinstincts that you have to deal. With what kind of fork willyou expel her?............