George Orwell - Down and Out in Paris and London

no fires. Two hundred decentish, rather subdued-looking

people were sitting packed on long wooden benches. One

or two officers in uniform prowled up and down. On the

wall were pictures of General Booth, and notices

prohibiting cooking, drinking, spitting, swearing,

quarrelling and gambling. As a specimen of these notices,

here is one that I copied word for word:

"Any man found gambling or playing cards will be

expelled and will not be admitted under any

circumstances.

"A reward will be given for information leading to

the discovery of such persons.

"The officers in charge appeal to all lodgers to

assist them in keeping this hostel free from the

DETESTABLE EVIL OF GAMBLING."

"Gambling or playing cards" is a delightful phrase.

To my eye these Salvation Army shelters, though clean,

are far drearier than the worst of the common lodging-

houses. There is such a hopelessness about some of the

people there-decent, broken-down types who have pawned

their collars but are still trying for office jobs.

Coming to a Salvation Army shelter, where it is

at least clean, is their last clutch at respectability. At the

next table to me were two foreigners, dressed in rags

but manifestly gentlemen. They were playing chess

verbally, not even writing down the moves. One of them

was blind, and I heard them say that they had been

saving up for a long time to buy a board, price half a

crown, but could never manage it. Here and there were

clerks out of work, pallid and moody. Among a group of

them a tall, thin, deadly pale young man was talking

excitedly. He thumped his fist on the table and boasted

in a strange, feverish style. When the officers were out

of hearing he broke out into startling blasphemies

"I tell you what, boys, I'm going to get that job to-

morrow. I'm not one of your bloody down-on-the-knee

brigade; I can look after myself. Look at that notice there!

'The Lord will provide!' A bloody lot He's ever provided me

with. You don't catch me trusting to the

Lord. You

leave it to me, boys.

I'm going to get that job ," etc. etc.

I watched him, struck by the wild, agitated way in

which he talked; he seemed hysterical, or perhaps a little

drunk. An hour later I went into a small room, apart

from the main hall, which was intended for reading. It

had no books or papers in it, so few of the lodgers went

there. As I opened the door I saw the young clerk in there

all alone; he was on his knees, praying. Before I shut the

door again I had time to see his face, and it looked

agonised. Quite suddenly I realised, from the expression

of his face, that he was starving.

The charge for beds was eightpence. Paddy and I had

fivepence left, and we spent it at the "bar," where food

was cheap, though not so cheap as in some common

lodging-houses. The tea appeared to be made

with tea

dust , which I fancy had been given to the

Salvation Army in charity, though they sold it at three-

halfpence a cup. It was foul stuff. At ten o'clock an

officer marched round the hall blowing a whistle.

Immediately everyone stood up.

"What's this for?" I said to Paddy, astonished.

"Dat means you has to go off to bed. An' you has to

look sharp about it, too."

Obediently as sheep, the whole two hundred men

trooped off to bed, under the command of the officers.

The dormitory was a great attic like a barrack room, with

sixty or seventy beds in it. They were clean and tolerably

comfortable, but very narrow and very close together, so

that one breathed straight into one's neighbour's face.

Two officers slept in the room, to see that there was no

smoking and no talking after lights-out. Paddy and I had

scarcely a wink of sleep, for there was a man near us

who had some nervous trouble, shellshock perhaps,

which made him cry out "Pip!" at irregular intervals. It

was a loud, startling noise, something like the toot of a

small motor-horn. You never knew when it was coming,

and it was a sure preventer of sleep. It appeared that Pip,

as the others called him, slept regularly in the shelter,

and he must have kept ten or twenty people awake every

night. He was an example of the kind of thing that

prevents one from ever getting enough sleep when men

are herded as they are in these lodging-houses.

At seven another whistle blew, and the officers went

round shaking those who did not get up at once. Since

then I have slept in a number of Salvation Army

shelters, and found that, though the different houses

vary a little, this semi-military discipline is the same in

all of them. They are certainly cheap, but they are too

like workhouses for my taste. In some of them there is

even a compulsory religious service once or twice a week,

which the lodgers must attend or leave the house. The fact

is that the Salvation Army are so in the habit of thinking

themselves a charitable body that they cannot even run a

lodging-house without making it stink of charity.

At ten I went to B.'s office and asked him to lend me a

pound. He gave me two pounds and told me to come again

when necessary, so that Paddy and I were free of money

troubles for a week at least. We loitered the day in

Trafalgar Square, looking for a friend of Paddy's who

never turned up, and at night went to a lodginghouse in a

back alley near the Strand. The charge was elevenpence,

but it was a dark, evil-smelling place, and a notorious

haunt of the "nancy boys." Downstairs, in the murky

kitchen, three ambiguous-looking youths in smartish blue

suits were sitting on a bench apart, ignored by the other

lodgers. I suppose they were "nancy boys." They looked

the same type as the apache boys one sees in Paris, except

that they wore no sidewhiskers. In front of the fire a fully

dressed man and a stark-naked man were bargaining. They

were newspaper sellers. The dressed man was selling his

clothes to the naked man. He said:

"'Ere y'are, the best rig-out you ever 'ad. A tosheroon

[half a crown] for the coat, two 'ogs for the trousers, one

and a tanner for the boots, and a 'og for the cap and scarf.

That's seven bob."

"You got a 'ope! I'll give yer one and a tanner for the

coat, a 'og for the trousers, and two 'ogs for the rest.

That's four and a tanner."

"Take the 'ole lot for five and a tanner, chum."

"Right y'are, off with 'em. I got to get out to sell my late

edition."

The clothed man stripped, and in three minutes their

positions were reversed; the naked man dressed, and the

other kilted with a sheet of the Daily Mail.

The dormitory was dark and close, with fifteen beds in

it. There was a horrible hot reek of urine, so beastly that at

first one tried to breathe in small, shallow puffs, not filling

one's lungs to the bottom. As I lay down in bed a man

loomed out of the darkness, leant over me and began

babbling in an educated, half-drunken voice:

"An old public school boy, what? [He had heard me

say something to Paddy.] Don't meet many of the old

school here. I am an old Etonian. You know-twenty years

hence this weather and all that." He began to quaver out

the Eton boating-song, not untunefully:

"Jolly boating weather,

And a hay harvest---"

"Stop that----

noise!" shouted several lodgers.

"Low types," said the old Etonian, "very low types. Funny