Regeneration | Page 9

of getting there. I
noticed that they all undressed themselves, wrapping up their rags in

bundles, and, for the most part slept quite naked. Many of them struck
me as very fine fellows physically, and the reflection crossed my mind,
seeing them thus in puris naturalibus, that there was little indeed to
distinguish them from a crowd of males of the upper class engaged, let
us say, in bathing. It is the clothes that make the difference to the eye.
In this Shelter I was told, by the way, that there exists a code of rough
honour among these people, who very rarely attempt to steal anything
from each other. Having so little property, they sternly respect its rights.
I should add that the charge made for accommodation and food is 3d.
per night for sleeping, and 1d. or 1/2d. per portion of food.
The sight of this Institution crowded with human derelicts struck me as
most sad, more so indeed than many others that I have seen, though,
perhaps, this may have been because I was myself tired out with a long
day of inspection.
The Staff-Captain in charge here told me his history, which is so
typical and interesting that I will repeat it briefly. Many years ago (he is
now an elderly man) he was a steward on board a P. and O. liner, and
doing well. Then a terrible misfortune overwhelmed him. Suddenly his
wife and child died, and, as a result of the shock, he took to drink. He
attempted to cut his throat (the scar remains to him), and was put upon
his trial for the offence. Subsequently he drifted on to the streets, where
he spent eight years. During all this time his object was to be rid of life,
the methods he adopted being to make himself drunk with methylated
spirits, or any other villainous and fiery liquor, and when that failed, to
sleep at night in wet grass or ditches. Once he was picked up suffering
from inflammation of the lungs and carried to an infirmary, where he
lay senseless for three days. The end of it was that a Salvation Army
Officer found him in Oxford Street, and took him to a Shelter in Burne
Street, where he was bathed and put to bed.
That was many years ago, and now he is to a great extent responsible
for the management of this Westminster Refuge. Commissioner
Sturgess, one of the head Officers of the Army, told me that their great
difficulty was to prevent him from overdoing himself at this charitable
task. I think the Commissioner said that sometimes he would work
eighteen or twenty hours out of the twenty-four.
One day this Staff-Captain played a grim little trick upon me. I was
seated at luncheon in a Salvation Army building, when the door opened,

and there entered as dreadful a human object as I have ever seen. The
man was clad in tatters, his bleeding feet were bound up with filthy
rags; he wore a dingy newspaper for a shirt. His face was cut and
plastered over roughly; he was a disgusting sight. He told me, in husky
accents, that drink had brought him down, and that he wanted help. I
made a few appropriate remarks, presented him with a small coin, and
sent him to the Officers downstairs.
A quarter of an hour later the Staff-Captain appeared in his uniform and
explained that he and the 'object' were the same person. Again it was
the clothes that made the difference. Those which he had worn when he
appeared at the luncheon-table were the same in which he had been
picked up on the streets of London. Also he thanked me for my good
advice which he said he hoped to follow, and for the sixpence that he
announced his intention of wearing on his watch-chain. For my part I
felt that the laugh was against me. Perhaps if I had thought the
Salvation Army capable of perpetrating a joke, I should not have been
so easily deceived.
This Staff-Captain gave me much information as to the class of
wanderers who frequent these Shelters, He estimated that about 50 per
cent of them sink to that level through the effects of drink. That is to
say, if by the waving of some magic wand intoxicants and harmful
drugs should cease to be obtainable in this country, the bulk of extreme
misery which needs such succour, and it may he added of crime at large,
would be lessened by one-half. This is a terrible statement, and one that
seems to excuse a great deal of what is called 'teetotal fanaticism.' The
rest, in his view, owe their fall to misfortune of various kinds, which
often in its turn leads to flight to