THE EFFECTS OF THE NEW POLICE.At the Guildhall, on Monday, October 12th, 1829, after Sir Peter Laurie had admonished and discharged a disorderly woman, who had been accused of being noisy in the street, he asked her accuser, a watchman, named Livingstone, where his beat was? The watchman said it was from St. Dunstan’s Church to Temple Bar. Do you find any increase of bad characters on your beat? Watchman (smilingly): Yes, I believe I do; the New Policemen drives ’em into the City. Sir Peter: Then you should drive them back again; it would be better than taking them up. Watchman: When there was a quarrel among them the other night, a policeman came up and drove them through the Bar, saying, “Ye shan’t stand here; go into the City with your rows.” Sir Peter Laurie said that he had heard that a police magistrate had directed the policemen to drive all bad characters into the City. If there was any truth in this, it was an imprudent—an improper observation. He desired the watchman present to drive all the bad characters out of the City. The thing must be put down. Subsequently, some vagrants were brought up, and Sir Peter told them to drive them out of the City instead of apprehending them in future. “We can play at tennis-ball,” said the Alderman, in an under tone.
THE EFFECTS OF THE NEW POLICE.
At the Guildhall, on Monday, October 12th, 1829, after Sir Peter Laurie had admonished and discharged a disorderly woman, who had been accused of being noisy in the street, he asked her accuser, a watchman, named Livingstone, where his beat was? The watchman said it was from St. Dunstan’s Church to Temple Bar. Do you find any increase of bad characters on your beat? Watchman (smilingly): Yes, I believe I do; the New Policemen drives ’em into the City. Sir Peter: Then you should drive them back again; it would be better than taking them up. Watchman: When there was a quarrel among them the other night, a policeman came up and drove them through the Bar, saying, “Ye shan’t stand here; go into the City with your rows.” Sir Peter Laurie said that he had heard that a police magistrate had directed the policemen to drive all bad characters into the City. If there was any truth in this, it was an imprudent—an improper observation. He desired the watchman present to drive all the bad characters out of the City. The thing must be put down. Subsequently, some vagrants were brought up, and Sir Peter told them to drive them out of the City instead of apprehending them in future. “We can play at tennis-ball,” said the Alderman, in an under tone.
“Who stole the Mutton?” together with many other words and phrases in reference to the supposed partiality of the police toThe Cook!The Kitchen!!andThe Cold Mutton!!!have clung to the service from the day of its formation to the present time, while comic writers of all degrees, in farces, burlesques, songs, and pantomimes, have never failed to make capital out of the New Police, Peel’s Raw-Lobsters, Peeler’s, Blue Bottles, &c., &c.
Polito’s Beasts.—Polito, the Italian successor to Pidcock’s Zoological Collection, and very famous in his day. Attracted many thousands of spectators every year at Bartholomew Fair.
Pony.—Money.To post the pony, to pay down the money, also the sum of twenty-five pounds.
Poundage Cove.—A fellow who receives poundage for procuring a customer for damaged goods—also a puffer at auction sales.
Prads.—Horses. The swell flashes a fine pair of horses.
Press-Gang.—Reporters, better known, perhaps, as gentlemen connected with thePress!
Prigs.—Pickpockets, and snappers-up of unconsidered trifles in general—from a needle to an anchor!
Prime Twig.—In high condition.
Pudding Sleeves.—A parson.
Pull Out.—To come it strong.
Punch.—From the Indian word punj (five); so called from its five ingredients, viz., spirit, water, lemon, sugar and spice. It was introduced intoEngland from Spain, where it is calledponche. It is said to be a great “contradiction,” because it is composed ofspiritsto make it strong, andwaterto make it weak, oflemon juiceto make it sour, andsugarto make it sweet.
Pupil’s-straits.—School tuition.
Q.
Quean.—A slut, or worthless woman, a strumpet.
Queer.—Bad.To Queer, to puzzle, or confound.
Quid.—A guinea, rather a scarce article now.
Qui-tam.—A╳species of lawyer, whose dealings are seldom or never on the◻.
Quiz.—A strange looking fellow, an odd dog.Oxford.
Quod.—Newgate, or any other prison.
R.
Rag.—Bank notes, money in general. The cove has noRag; the fellow has no money.Rag-carrier, an ensign.
Rainbow.—A tailor’s pattern book.
Rain Napper.—An umbrella.
Randall, Jack.—Jack Randall, theNonpareilof the ring, died at his house, the Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane, March 12th, 1828, aged 34. Jack was anAnglo-Irishman, and first drew his breath in the Hibernian colony of St. Giles. He was the hero of sixteen prize battles, and left the ring undefeated. At this period it was considered he had received not less than £1,200 by his good fortune, but “easy got, easy gone”—as fast as it was got it was spent, until prudence suggested the expediency of laying the foundation of something substantial for his family, and he accordingly closed his bargain for the Hole-in-the-Wall, under the patronage of General Barton, his friends giving him a pipe of wine, instead of a piece of plate, to commence operations. From henceforth he pursued the business of a publican, and was highly respected by all ranks of theFancy. Tom Moore, the Irish poet, was a frequenter of his house, and it was there that he picked up most of his material for his “Tom Cribb’s Memorial to Congress,” &c. The liberality of his friends, however, added to his own predilection fordaffey, gradually paved the way to the “break-up” of his constitution, and for the last few months of his life he was but the shadow of his former self.
Alas! poor Jack lies on his back,As flat as any flounder:Although he died of abad inside,Noheartwas eversounder.TheHole-in-the-Wallwas once hisstall,HiscribtheFancyname it:Ahole in the groundhe now has found,And no one else will claim it.But too muchlushman’s strength will crush,And so found poor Jack Randall:His fame once bright as morning light,Now’s out, likefarthing candle.
Rap.—Money, indifferent of what coin.
Rattler.—A Hackney coach.RattlerandPrad, a coach and horses.Rattling-cove, a coachman.
Reader.—A pocket book.
Ready.—Money—not alwaysready.
Red Tape.—Brandy.
Reeve, John.—Glorious Jack!Comedian, died January 24, 1838, aged 39.
Regular.—In proper course.Regulars, the usual share of the booty.
Rent.—Money.Nap the rent, receive money.
Rhino.—Money.—May there always be plentyrhinobetwixt the chaps that you and I know.
Rig-Out.—A suit of clothes.
Right and Fly.—Complete.
River Tick.—Tradesmen’s books.
Rolled-up.—Put in a sponging-house.
Roses, Pinks and Tulips.—Nobility.
Rosy Gills.—One with a sanguine or fresh-coloured countenance.
Row.—A street broil.
Rumbler.—A Hackney coach.
Rum One.—A knowing one.
Rum Peck.—Good grub.
Rum Slim.—Mixed wine or liquor, Rum Punch.
Russell, Samuel.—Otherwise“Jerry Sneak Russell,” from the very admirable manner in which he played the character of the henpecked cockney lout in Foote’s farce of “The Mayor of Garratt.” Mr. Russell was for some years manager of the Theatre Royal, Brighton, where he produced “Tom and Jerry” in 1822. After a long life of toil and trouble as a manager, actor, and—the father of a large family, a charitable benefit was got up for him at the Haymarket Theatre, July 1st, 1841, when “Macbeth” was performed, with Charles Kean as Macbeth; Mr. S. Phelps, Macduff; Lady Macbeth, Miss Ellen Tree. After which Mr. Russell spoke an address thanking his kind friends and patrons for their support and patronage; explaining that he deemed it necessary to address them before his final appearance on the stage, least he should not have the nerve power to do so afterwards. Then followedThe Mayor of Garratt, Jerry Sneak (for the last time), Mr. Russell; Major Sturgeon, Mr. Robert Strickland. Unfortunatelythe money realized by the Benefit, and the private subscription list, was injudiciously invested in a very risky security; and a year or two afterwards the house of business failing the whole of it was irretrievably lost. Mr. Russell died at his daughter’s residence, Gravesend, February 25, 1845, aged 79.
S.
Sadler’s Wells.—The oldest theatre in London, and named in part from a mineral spring, which was superstitiously dispensed by the monks of the Priory of St. John of Jerusalem, from an early date. In the reign of Charles II. a Mr. Sadler, built here a music-house, and in 1683, re-discovered while digging gravel for his garden theHoly Wellof “excellent steel water” which in 1684 was visited and drunk by hundreds of persons of every degree in their morning’s walk. In 1765, Mr. Rosoman converted Sadler’s Wells garden into a theatre. Mr. King, of Drury Lane Theatre, was long a partner and stage-manager, and Charles Dibdin and his sons Thomas and Charles were proprietors. Grimaldi, father, son and grandson, were famous clowns. The season of 1803 is memorable for the appearance of the celebrated Italian traveller Signor Benzoni, as the Patagonian Samson, in which character he performed prodigious feats of strength. Wine was sold and drunk on the premises until 1807, under the old regulation,—“for an additional sixpence, every spectator was allowed a pint of either port, Lisbon, mountain, or punch.” On the 15th of October, 1807, twenty three persons, male and female, were killed, and many dangerously injured by reason of a false alarm of “Fire!” New River water was introduced in a tank under the stage, and plays were written and arranged so as to display “Real Water” in some of the scenes, and the place advertised as theAquatic Theatre Sadler’s Wells. In some cases the “good young man” and rightful heir to the estate, was basely and unmercifully hurled from some rock-work into the angry and surging billows below; by the hired myrmidons of the “Cruel Squire” of the Castle: then it was that the real dog would plunge into the real water, and rescue the real Count De Montfordiano from perdition. At other times the Lord of —— “the star-breasted villain,” was set upon by the highly virtuous villagers, for having disgraced the “Village-born Beauty,” who chased him in and out, and all round about the huge mountain-pass which overhung the “Perilous Pool,” until his noble Lordship! was captured, and then hurled into the “depths below,” and while hisdummy!body was descending, it was shot—in two places, by Robin the Ploughman and Virtuous Villager—“under whose calf-skin waistcoat beat a heart truer than all the Lords, Dukes and Squires in wide England and Foreign parts.” Pierce Egan’s own version of “Tom and Jerry”—the “Author’s Piece” was performed for the first time on Monday, April 8, 1822;Tom, Mr. Elliott;Jerry, Mr. Keeley;Logic, Mr. Vale. But the more honourable distinction of Sadler’s Wells Theatre is the admirable representation of Elizabethan plays under the able management of Mrs. Warner and Messrs. Phelps and Greenwood, by whom it was made “the popular retreat of the regular drama”—1844-59 and 1861.
Sam—To Stand Sam.—To pay for the whole of the reckoning.Sammyis he who is fool enough to do it.
Sanders, John.—“Old Jack of the Adelphi”—and original Black Sal, died December 9, 1865, aged 66.
Saving one’s Bacon.—Taking care of one’s self.
Schneider.—A tailor. Scholars will perceive this “cognomen isgermanto the matter.”
Scamp.—A street-walking vagabond of the lowest order.
Scarce.—Non est inventus.
Scout.—A watchman.
Scran.—Food in general.
Screen.—A bank-note.
Screw.—A turnkey.
Screw Loose.—Something wrong.
Seven Dials Bard.—
There is a pleasure in poetic pains,Which only Poets know.
“Yonder, sir, is Mr. Goosequill, one of the ‘Seven Bards of the Seven Dials,’ a clever man, who came to town with half-a-crown in his pocket, and his tragedy, called the ‘Mines of Peru,’ by which he of course expected to make his fortune. For five years he danced attendance on the manager, in order to hear tidings of its being ‘cast,’ and put into rehearsal, and four years more in trying to get it back again. During the process he was groaned, laughed, whistled, guyed, and nearly kicked out of the secretary’s room, who swore—which well he might do, considering the exhausted treasury of the concern—that he knew nothing about, or ever heard of the ‘Mines of Peru.’ At last Mr. Goosequill, being shown into the manager’s kitchen, to wait till he was at leisure, had the singular pleasure of seeing two acts of the ‘Mines of Peru’ daintily fastened round a savory capon on the spit, to preserve it from the scorching influence of the fire.
“‘This wasfoultreatment,’ I observed, and I ventured to ask how he had subsisted during the meanwhile? ‘Why he first made an agreement with a printer of Ballads, Last Dying Speeches and Confessions, &c., living in the Seven Dials, who finding his inclinations led to poetry, expressed his satisfaction, telling him that one of his poets had lost his senses, and was confined in Bedlam, and another was dazed with drinking drams. An agreement was made, and he earned five shillings and two-pence-three-farthings per week as his share of this speculation with the muses. But his profits were not always certain. He had often the pleasure of dining with Duke Humphrey, and for this reason he turned his thoughts to prose; and in this walk he was eminently successful, for during a week of gloomy weather he published anapparition, on thesubstanceof which he subsisted very comfortably for a month. He often makes a good meal upon a monster. Arapehas often afforded him great satisfaction, but amurder—an out-and-outmurder—if well timed, is board, lodging, and washing, with a feast of nectared sweets for many a day.’”
Shaking the Shallow.—Tossing in a hat. Three or more coins are shaken together in the hat, then cast out on the table, most heads or most tails being the winner or loser, according to the calling of the players.
Sharps.—Persons ready to take you in on all occasions.
Shell Out.—Subscribe, or club their pence together.
Shirk.—To skulk or get off.
Shove in the Mouth.—A glass of gin.
Shoulder Knot.—A man-trap or bailiff.
Six and Eight-pence.—A lawyer of the first order ofSharks, whose whole object in commencing an action is to make a “bill of costs.”
Sketch-Room.—The—inCorinthian Housewhich was principally dedicated to the productions of the lateGeorge Morland,Jerrywas rather more if not quite at home, almost skipping with rapture as his eye ran over the subjects of that unrivalled genius of the pencil.Naturewas seen so strongly at every touch thatJerrynearly fancied himself again atHawthorn Hall, looking at his dogs, pigs, and horses.
“It was the opinion ofCorinthian Tom, in his remarks toJerry, when the latter first entered this apartment, that ifMorlandhad only painted half the number of subjects which are now before the public, their value might have been enhanced twice as much; andfinishedpictures, instead ofsketches, most likely would have been the result. This was the reasonTomassigned toJerryfor having it called theSketch-Room. ‘Nine times out of ten,’ saidTom, ‘dull matter-of-fact calculation is not allied with genius.’Money, toGeorge Morland, was acolourthat he did not paint with; and, therefore, respecting itsvalue, he seemed to know nothing.Embarrassmentand the Catchpoles first drew up the curtain and showed him the iron bars which stopped his thoughtless career. They also explained to him, in the most feeling manner, theusesof a strong lock. They likewise pointed out toGeorgethe difference in hisprospects,—not in an artist-like manner to his ‘mind’s eye,’ but in a clear distinct way of business, thattwenty shillingsmake aPound. For themoment, he keenly felt the disgustingcrampedsituation of Carey Street,[40]which compelled him topeepat his objects, through the rails of his apartment: for themoment, also, he felt the immediatenecessityof procuring the goldtalismanickey to give him once more liberty, again to wander amidst the beauties of nature: it was then thatMorlandpainted formoney: it was then thatGeniuswas in fetters: it was then that rapidexertionsgot the better of histaste. ‘The sooner you paintmea picture,Mr. Morland,’ said thelearyBum-trap, ‘the sooner the door will be open to you. Freedom is in view,—and I’ll discharge your debt.’ No skilful angler ever threw his line into waters with morecoaxingbait to hook the poor fish, than Mr.Screw‘tried it on’ with his prisoner. It was plausible: it was better,—it gave no trouble to his acquaintance: it also preventedshynessorRefusalfrom his friends. The lock-up-house, by such means lost its terror. Employment was found for the mind and pencil ofMorland. He experienced noshiveringsof the body—no feverishparched-uptongue, waiting with the most anxious suspense for the return of the messenger to bring theNo, which ultimately sent him to jail, or the delightfulYes, that set the prisoner once more at liberty. On the contrary,Georgewas quite at home. He did as his inclinations prompted him. Jolly fellows called on him in abundance; and the song and the glass went round with the freedom of a tavern. All his wants were supplied, and themiseryof a spunging-house was not seen inMorland’sapartments. In fact, he was better attended than when out of it. From thetop screwto thestamper cleaner, all of them felt an interest in waiting upon the ‘Great Genius,’ as he was termed, in order to take a sly peep at his paintings.HereGeorgeset no price to his pictures, but when he was tired of his companions, and his confined situation, he then industriously, and in a short time,paintedhimself out of the lock-up house.Lumberinghim, never afterwards gaveMorlandany horrors: and, whenever he was introuble, the same kind of judgment was repeated, time and often, till Mr.Screwhad realized a tolerable collection of valuable paintings. This officer was rather fond of paintings himself; but when any gentleman took a fancy to purchase any of them, Mr.Screwnever betrayed a want of knowledge of their value—by thepriceshe affixed to them.Morlanddied at the premature age of 41, in October 29, 1804—dissipated habits proved hisquietus.”
Slang.—St. Giles’s Greek—a conversational expression of an irregular, more or less vulgar, type, familiar to and in vogue among a certain class.
Slavey.—Servants of all work, in allusion to their laborious employment and hard work.
Slipped Cover.—Got away.
Sluice.—To drink.Sluice your whistle, wet your throat.
Sly.—Contraband.On the sly, concealed, unlawful.
Smart Blunt.—Forfeit money.
Smash your Countenance.—To give a thump on the face.
Smell a Rat.—To suspect or discover any concealed thing,a la Hamlet.VideOld Polonius behind the arras: “A rat, a rat; dead, for a ducat, dead.”
Smeller.—The nose.A smeller, a blow on the nose.
Smokey.—Suspicious.
Sneezer.—TheConkor nose.
Snicker.—A small tumbler.
Snip.—Mr. Snip a tailor.—Come in, taylor, here you may warm your goose.—Macbeth.
Snowball.—A Negro, or chimney sweeper.
Soho Bazaar, The.—The first of its kind in England, was established by John Trotter, Esq., to whose family it still belongs. The building covers a space of 300 feet by 150, and extends from the Square to Dean Street on the one hand, and to Oxford Street on the other. The bazaar occupies two floors, and has counter accommodation for upwards of 160 tenants. The twoprincipal rooms in the building are about ninety feet long, and in them the visitor may find almost every trade represented. One large room is set apart for the sale of books, another for furniture, and another for birds, cages, &c.; and at one end of the latter room is a large recess, occupied with a rustic aviary, through which runs a stream of water. Connected with the bazaar are offices for the registration of governesses and the hire of servants, &c.; and the scene that here presents itself during business hours is one well worthy of a visit. The bazaar has been frequently patronised by royalty.
The Soho Bazaar.Ladies in furs, and gemmen in spurs,Who lollop and lounge about all day:The Bazaar in Soho is completely the go—Walk into the shop of Grimaldi!Come from afar, here’s the Bazaar!—But if you won’t deal with us, stay where you are.Here’s rouge to give grace to an old woman’s face,Trowsers of check for a sailor;Here’s a cold ice, if you pay for it twice,And here’s a hot goose for a tailor.Soho Bazaar, come from afar:Sing ri fal de riddle, and tal de ral la.Here’s a cock’d hat, or an opera flat—Here’s a broad brim for a Quaker;Here’s a white wig for a Chancery prig,And here’s a light weight for a baker.Soho Bazaar, &c.A fringed parasol, or a toad-in-the-hole.A box of japan to hold backy;Here’s a relief for a widow in grief—A quartern of Hodge’s jacky.Soho Bazaar, &c.Here, long enough, is a lottery puff(I was half-drunk when it caught me);It promised, my eyes! what a capital prize:And here’s all the rhino it brought me.Soho Bazaar, &c.“Put it down to the bill,” is the fountain of illThis has the shopkeepers undone;Bazaars never trust—so down with your dust,And help us to diddle all London.Soho Bazaar, &c.
Something Short.—A drop of summat short.A glass of spirits, neat, unmixed—straight!
Some Tune.—A large amount.
Spavined.—Damaged, injured.
Speeling.—Gambling generally.
Spellken.—A playhouse:—Lord Byron in hisDon Juan, Canto xi., stanza 19, uses the word in that sense, and then by way of a foot note, adds—
The advance of science and of language has rendered it unnecessary to translate the above good and true English, spoken in its original purity by the select nobility and their patrons. The following is a stanza of a song which was very popular, at least in my early days:—On the high toby-spice flash the muzzle,In spite of each gallows old scout:If you at thespellkencan’t hustle,You’ll be hobbled in making a clout.Then your Blowing will wax gallows haughtyWhen she hears of your scaly mistake,She’ll surely turn snitch for the forty,That her Jack may be regular weight.If there be any gem’men so ignorant as to require a translation, I refer him to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism; who, I trust, still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and athletic as well as mental accomplishments.
The advance of science and of language has rendered it unnecessary to translate the above good and true English, spoken in its original purity by the select nobility and their patrons. The following is a stanza of a song which was very popular, at least in my early days:—
On the high toby-spice flash the muzzle,In spite of each gallows old scout:If you at thespellkencan’t hustle,You’ll be hobbled in making a clout.Then your Blowing will wax gallows haughtyWhen she hears of your scaly mistake,She’ll surely turn snitch for the forty,That her Jack may be regular weight.
If there be any gem’men so ignorant as to require a translation, I refer him to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism; who, I trust, still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and athletic as well as mental accomplishments.
Spike Hotel.—The King’s Bench, the Fleet, or any other prison.
Spree.—A bit of fun.
Stand.—To treat.Stand the nonsense, to pay the reckoning, very great nonsense when there’s no occasion for it.Stand Sammy, to pay for other people.
Stand Still.—A table.
Stark Naked.—Pure gin, neat without water.
Staunch.—Bang up to the neck, the thing!
Steamer.—A pipe.A swell steamer, a long pipe—Churchwarden.
Stiffener.—A letter.
Straw Chipper.—A straw bonnet maker.
St. Giles’ Greek.—Cant language.SeeCant.
Street Solicitors.—Mendicity Societies’ clients, a class of beings that, as before mentioned,Bodkinmakes it apointto take care of, in other words—beggars.
String of Onions.—Costermongers, and others of the lower class.
Stringer.—A mace cove, or line man, in plain English a cheat.
Stumpy.—Money.
Stunning Joe Banks.—Who was in all that’sflash, “bang-up to the knocker,” and for many years a very popular and much respected London character. He kept a renownedlush-cribcalled the “Hare and Hounds,” formerly the “Beggar in the Bush;” in No. 1, Buckeridge Street, within the classic region the “Holy Land,” or more frequently termed theRookeryin the heart of St. Giles’. Joe Banks, “mine host” of this boosing-ken; was a civil, rough, good natured, and very elaborate specimen of thegenus homo, possessing a flow of spirits as extensive as his person. Good nature and conviviality were his leading characteristics, although his regular customers were composed of the veriest cadgers both male and female. The girls without shoes or stockings, clad in rags and jags. The male cadgers seldom or never used a comb or a pocket handkerchief:—
Nosmall tooth-traptheir locks disposesNo ’kerchiefs white attack their noses.
It was the fashion of the day for all thelively spirits—flash kiddiesand country cousins curious in such matters to visit Stunning Joe Banks’ “City of the Cadgers” on such occasions, the persons and property of all were sacred while under his roof, and escorted through the intricacies of the “Rookery,” by Joe himself—or in his temporary absence by a well and truly trustedaide-de-camp!in order that they might not be in any way molested after leaving his house.
In conclusion we may add that “Stunning Joe Banks’s”drumwas the resort of all classes, from the aristocratic marquis—especially he, who before hemizzled,hailedfrom Waterford!—to thedownyvagabond, whose way of living was a puzzle to himself.
Sufferer.—A tailor or creditor.
Suspicion of Debt.—Owing two or three thousand pounds.
Swag.—Money, from its appetency to make its possessorswagger.Bag the Swag, to collect money.
Swaddies.—Soldiers.
Swallow-tail.—A dress, or tail coat.
Swell.—A dashing buck.
Swill Tub.—A drunkard, a sot.
Syntax.—A schoolmaster.
T.
Tag, Rag and Bobtail.—Extremes of low life.
Tape.—Spirits—white and red.
Tartar.—A sour one, a shrewish woman, a scolding wife.
Tattersall in the Rostrum.—“Gentlemen, what can you hesitate about? Only look at her! She is one of the most beautiful creatures that I have ever had the honour of submitting to your notice! So gentle in her paces; indeed, so safe a goer, that a child might ride her. Her pedigree is excellent—she is thorough-bred from her ear to her hoof; and the Herald’s College could not produce a more sound and satisfactory one—she comes from a good house, I pledge, my word, gentlemen. My Lord Duke, will you allow me to say £250 for your Grace? She will, notwithstanding the excellence of your Grace’s stud, be an ornament to it. She is a picture—complete to a shade; in fact, I could gaze upon her for ever, and always be struck with some new beauty she possesses. Thank you, My Lord Duke, I was certain your Grace would not let such an opportunity pass. There is not a horse-dealer in the kingdom who can show such a fine creature! She is above competition—I may say, she is matchless! The Regent’s Park might be betted to a mole-hill with safety that she has no parallel. Sir Henry, let me call your attention toCleopatra! She is like her namesake in the olden times—but beautiful without paint! She is pure Nature, and no vice!Her action, Sir Henry—yes, her action—I could dilate upon it for a quarter of an hour—butpuffingis out of the question—you shall judge for yourself. Run her down, John—The Graces, I am sure,Sir Harry, were they to behold her movements, would be out of temper with her captivating excellence!Taglioni, I must admit, can perform wonders with her pretty feet, butCleopatra, my Lord Duke, candistancethe whole of them put together; and positively leave the Opera House with all its talent, in the back ground. In fact, I am deficient in words to display her immense capabilities—£300,Going!£300. Thank you, my Lord Duke, she must be yours. For the last time, going at £310; but I will do the handsome thing, I will allow you five minutes to compose your mind—I am well aware that such unparalleled beauty is very dazzling—therefore, before you lose sight of this handsome creature, I do impress upon you, to remember that the opportunity once lost—£320; Sir Harry, I am obliged to you—the world has always acknowledged you as a man of great taste in matters of this kind; and without flattery, you have never shown it more than in the present instance—according to the poet, ‘Beauty; or, Loveliness, needs not the foreign aid of ornament, but is, when unadorned, adorned the most!’Going—Cleopatra, my Lord Duke, will be in other hands if your Grace does not make up your mind in your usual princely style of doing things—a good bidding will makeCleopatrayour own for ever, therefore, now’s the time to put on thedistancingpower, and your Grace will win the race in a canter! £340, my Lord Duke, I can only express my gratitude to say, that you have done me honour—Going!—Going!!—Going!!!—in fact, gentlemen, I am like an artist in this case, I do not like to leave such a delightful picture and I coulddwellupon the qualities ofCleopatrato the very echo that applauds again and again! But most certainly I have given you all a fair chance—Cleopatrais on thego—are you all silent—goingfor £340, after all, what is that sum for one of the greatest English beauties ever submitted to the inspection of the public! £350, thank you, Sir Charles—worth your money at any price. I have witnessed your notice ofCleopatrafor some time past—she will bear looking at, again and again! CharmingCleopatra! I am glad to see she has so many suitors for herhand—I beg pardon, gentlemen—a slip will happen to the best of us—herfeetI should have said, but nevertheless, I am happy to see she has a host of admirers. I cannotbidmyself, or else I would ‘make play’ andCleopatrashould become a noble prize—£370. Bravo! my Lord Duke! for £370 positively, yes, positively, ’pon my honour, positively the last time—or else the beautifulCleopatragoes into thekeepingof my Lord Duke. You are sure, gentlemen, that you have all done? Don’t blame me, but blame yourselves! Goingonce! Goingtwice! Goingthree times—Going—Gone!!!Cleopatrabelongs to the Duke. ‘Jerryexpressed himself so much pleased with his visit toTattersall’s, that he observed toLogic, during his stay in London he should often frequent it.’ ‘I delight,’ saidHawthorn, ‘to be in the company of sportsmen; and no objects afford me greater satisfaction than the sight of a fine hunter,—the view of a high-mettled racer,—and the look of aperfectgreyhound.’ ‘I admire them also,’ replied theCorinthian; ‘andTattersall’swill always prove an agreeable lounge, if no direct purposecall a person thither. If nothing more thanInformationbe acquired, thatalone,Jerry, to a man of the world, is valuable at all times. Besides,Tattersall’sgives atoneto thesportingworld, in the same way that the transactions on theRoyal Exchangeinfluence the mercantile part of society. It has likewise its ‘settling days,’ after the great races atNewmarket,Doncaster,Epsom,Ascot,&c.I do not know about thebullsandbears;[41]but if it has nolame duckstowaddleout, it has sometimesLevantersthat will notshowfor a time, and others that willbrush offaltogether. But this does not happen very often; andTattersall’shas its ‘goodMEN’ as well as the’Change, and whose ‘word,’ will be taken for any amount. It has also its Subscription-room, which is extremely convenient for gentlemen and other persons who feel any inclination to become acquainted with the events of the sporting world, at the moderate charge ofone guineaa year. Indeed,’ continuedTom, ‘there is an air of sporting about this place altogether; elegance, cleanliness, and style, being its prominent features. The company, I admit, is amixtureof persons of nearly all ranks in life; but, nevertheless, it is that sort ofmixturewhich is pleasingly interesting; there is nointimacyorassociationabout it. A man may be well known here; he may also in his turnknowalmost everybody that visitsTattersall’s; and yet be quite astrangerto their habits and connections with society. It is no matter whosellsor who purchases at this repository. Abetstands as good with aLeg, and is thought as much of, as with aPeer,—Moneybeing thetouchstoneof the circumstance. The ‘best judge’ respecting sporting events is acknowledged the ‘best man’ here; every person being on the ‘look out’ to see how helayshisblunt. TheDukeand theParliamentary Orator, if they do not know the properties of a horse, are little more than cyphers; it is true they may bestaredat, if pointed out as great characters, but nothing more. Thenodfrom astable-keeperis quite as important, if not more so, to the Auctioneer, as thewinkof aRight Honourable. Numbers of persons who visitTattersall’sare, or wish to, appearknowing: from which ‘self’ importance they are often most egregiously duped. In short, if you are not as familiar with theoddsupon all events asChittyin quoting precedents—show as intimate an acquaintance with thepedigreeandspeedof race-horses as aGulley—and also display as correct a knowledge of the various capabilities of the prize pugilists as aJackson—ifGainis your immediate object, you are ‘of nouse’ atTattersall’s,’ ‘Yes,’ saidLogic, with a grin, interruptingTom; ‘there are to be found here as manyflatsandsharpsas would furnish thescoreof a musical composer; and several of theseinstrumentshave been so much played upon, and are so wretchedly out oftune, that the most skilful musician in the world cannot restore them to perfectharmony.’ ‘It is,’ resumed theCorinthian, ‘an excellent mart for the disposal of carriages, horses, dogs, &c., and many a fine fellow’sstudhas beenflooredby the hammer ofTattersall. There is a capaciousTapattached to the premises, for the convenience of servants of gentlemen in attendance upon their masters, or for any person who stands in need of refreshment.Tattersall’s, for the purposes intended, is the most completeplace in the Metropolis; and if you have any desire to witness ‘real life’—to observecharacter—and to view the favouritehobbiesof mankind, it is the resort of thepinksof theSwells,—thetulipsof theGoes,—thedashingheroes of the military,—the fox hunting clericals,—sprigs of nobility,—stylish coachmen,—smart guards,—saucy butchers,—natty grooms,—tidy helpers,—knowing horse-dealers,—bettingpublicans,—neat jockeys,—sporting men of all descriptions,—and the picture is finished by numbers of real gentlemen. It is the tip-top sporting feature in London.’ ‘It must have been the work of some time,’ saidJerry, ‘to have formed such a famous connection.’ ‘Yes,’ repliedTom; ‘you are quite right. It is not theworkof a day. The name ofTattersallis not only high, but of long standing in the sporting world; and everything connected with this splendid establishment is conducted in the most gentlemanly manner. The founder of these premises was during his time, viewed as one of the best judges of horse-flesh in the kingdom; and, as a proof of it, he made his fortune by a horse calledHighflyer.’”
Tattler.—A watch. “Time’s a tell tale.”
Teazer of the Catgut.—A hardworking fiddler.
Thames.—“He’ll never set the Thames on fire,”i.e., He will never make any figure in the world. This popular phrase is as to the word “Thames” altogether a misapplication. Thetemsewas a corn sieve which was worked in former times over the receiver of the sifted flour. A hard-working active man would not unfrequently ply thetemseso quickly as to set fire to the wooden hoop at the bottom; but a lazy fellow would never—no never set thetemseon fire! The play on the wordtemsehas engendered many stupid imitations as “He will never set the Mersey—or the Humber, &c., on fire,” which has no meaning. Dutch,teme; French,tamis; Italian,tamiso, a sieve.
Thigh of Mutton and Smash.—A boiled leg of mutton, with turnips and caper sauce, &c. A prominent article amongpot-housegamblers.
Thimble.—A watch.
Third of Daffy.—Third part of a quartern of gin.
Timber Merchant.—A dealer in the old-fashioned brimstone matches.
Tip your Rags a Gallop.—To run away.
Tip.—Money.To be in Tip-street, to have plenty of money, “a consummation devoutly to be wished.”
Toddle.—To move your pins.
Toggery.—Wearing apparel; from the Romantoga.
Tom King.—The Jolly Dog—“When did Tom King ever fail when the object was to serve a friend and promote mirth?” Zounds! for a quiz, a hoax, a joke, a jest, a song, a dance, a catch, a tale, a race, or a row. Tom King would not turn his back on any man in England. A’n’t I the choice spirit of the day, the jolly dog, the roaring boy, the knowing lad, the rareblood, the prime buck, the rum soul, the funny fellow? Emperor of the Cockonians! Chairman of the Jacks! General of the Lumber Troop! Master of the Mugs! Chief of the Eccentrics! Member of Daffy’s! President of the Flounder Club! Chairman of the Owls! Chancellor of the Two o’Clock Club! Vice-Chairman of the Hard-up Club! Captain of the Rag and Famish! Chairman of the Never Sinks! Founder of the Snugs! Member of the Beef-steak Club! Past Primo of all theBuffaloesLodges held within the precincts of the City of Lushington! Noble Grand of the Oddfellows! Past-Arch of the Druids! And Vice of half the Freemasons’ Lodges in the United Kingdom! And though last, not least, in love, Founder of the Moral Philosophers’ Club! Oh, d——n! Tom King is the Jolly Dog! of the day.
Top of the Tree.—The heads of their profession.
Tooth Picker.—An Irish watchman’s shillelah.
Tothill Fields.—Situate between Pimlico and the Thames, formerly a great rendezvous for beggars, thieves, &c.
Tow Street.—Being decoyed or persuaded by any person.
Town Tabby.—Dowager of quality.
Traps.—Constables.
Translator of Soles.—A cobbler that canvampup old shoes to look like new. Aprimepiece of deception; and those persons who purchase second-hand shoes soon find it out on a wet day.
Trotters.—The feet.Walk your trotters, to be off.Trotter-cases, shoes.Trotter shakers, dancers.
Turkey Merchant.—A poulterer.
Turf—The.—The race course; the profession of horse racing, which is done on turf or grass. One who lives by the turf, or one on the turf, is one whose chief occupation or means of living is derived from running horses or betting on races. All men are equal on theturfand under it.—Lord George Bentinck.
U.
Umbrella.—Otherwisemush, spread, summer cabbage, water-plant, gingham, &c.The first person who used an umbrella in the streets of London was Jonas Hanway, founder of the Magdalene Hospital, who died 1786.
Uncle.—The pawnbroker.SeeMy Uncle.
Under a Cloud.—In debt and difficulties. Not able to show out, or come to the front in daylight.
Undergoing a Three Months’ Preparation.—The modern “New way to pay old debts,” or taking the Benefit of the Act! Sometimes resorted to by an honest man overwhelmed by the harpies of the law, but more generally in use among swindlers, scamps, blacklegs, rogues, and vagabonds of every description.
Under the Rose.—Sub rosa.—Secretly, confidentially. Amongst the ancients the rose was an emblem of silence.
Under the Screw.—In prison.
Uneasiness.—Trouble.To have the uneasiness, to be vexed, restless.A copy of uneasiness, a copy of a writ.
Up.—Knowledge.To be up, to understand.Up to trap, aware of things.
Uphills.—False dice that run high.
Upper Benjamin.—A great coat.
Upper Crust.—The lions or crack men of the day.
Upper Story, or Garret.—Figuratively used to signify the head.
Upper Ten Thousand.—The aristocracy.
Uppish.—Testy, apt to take offence, proud, arrogant.
Upstarts.—Persons lately raised to honours and riches, from mean stations.
Used Up.—Killed; a military saying, originating from a message sent by the late General Guise, on the expedition at Carthagena, where he desired the Commander-in-chief to order him some more grenadiers, for those he had were allused up!
V.
Vale, Samuel.—Low comedian, died March 24, 1848, aged 51.
Various Classes of Society.—“‘Now my dear Coz,’ saidTom, ‘as we shall soon have to intermix with the ‘various classes of society;’ and although it is not absolutely necessary that you should be able to dispute the accuracy of aGreek quotationwith aPorson—contend with aMozartupon the fundamentalprinciples of harmony—enter into a dissertation on the properties oflight and shadewith aReynolds—quoteprecedentswith aSpeakerof the House of Commons—arguelawwith anEldon—display a knowledge oftacticswith aWellington—writepoetrywith aByron—relatehistorywith aGibbon—contestgrammatical pointswith aHorne Tooke—witandeloquencewith aCanning—support theOld English Characterwith aWyndham—dancewith anOscar Byrne—fencewith anO’Shaunessy—set-towith aBelcher—singwithBraham—contest thelaw of nationswith aLiverpool—eruditionwith aJohnson—philosophywith aPaley—thewealth of nationswith aSmith—astronomywith anHerschel—physiognomywith aLavater—equitywith aRomilly—and so on to the end of the Chapter of Talents in the Metropolis;—although it is not necessary, I again repeat, my dear Coz, that you should be able to rival all the traits of excellences possessed by the above characters, yet it is essentially requisite that you should have some knowledge of their respective qualities, and be sensibly alive to their immediate value, and the impression they have made on the minds of mankind.’ ‘Hold, hold!’ saidJerry, smiling, and makinga low bow at the same time; ‘there is one person among these distinguished men that you have forgot to mention—who shall disputetastewithCorinthian Tom?’ The latter hero gave rather a gracefulnodin return for this unexpected compliment, which, it would seem, augured toToma kind of budding of the lively genius of his cousin’s mind.”
Vauxhall Gardens—were sold by auction, 9th September, 1841, for £20,000. The last performance took place 25th July, 1859. The ground has been since sold for building purposes.—In allusion to thethinnessand artist-like manner in which thehamwas brought to table.Logicoffered to betJerry“that it was notcutwith aknife, butshavedoff with aplane: and, if necessary, from its transparent quality, conceived it might answer the purpose of asky-light!”Vauxhall Slices!orHam Shavings!are terms well understood to this day.
A Vauxhall supper usually consisted of:—
Lilliput chickens boil’d,Bucellas warm from Vauxhall ice;And hams that flit in airy slice,And salads scarcely soil’d.—London Mag., Sept., 1824.
Velvet.—The tongue. “To be upon velvet,” have the best of a bet or match.
Venus.—Love; the Goddess of Love; courtship.My Venus turns out a whelp,i.e., my swans are changed to geese; my cake is dough. In dice the best cast—three sixes—was called “Venus,” and the worst—three aces—was called “Canis.” My win-all turns out to be a lose-all!
View-Holloaof a fox is “Tally-ho!” or, asJemmy Greenwould have it, “Tally-man!” of ahare, “Gone away!” but the “Who-hoop” signifies the death of each.
Viper and File.—The biter bit.—Æsop says a viper found a file, and tried to bite it, under the supposition that it was good food; but the file said that its province was to bite others, and not to be bitten.
Vowel.—“To vowel a debt.” Where the acknowledgment of the debt is expressed by the vowels I.O.U.
Let old I.O.U.’s be forgot,And never brought to mind,Let Writs and Judgments be forgotAnd the Bills that I have signed
W.
Waifs and Strays.—The juvenile homeless poor. Waifs are goods found but not claimed. Strays are animals that have wandered from their proper enclosures to the grounds of some one not their owner.
Walking Poulterer.—One who steals fowls, and hawks them from door to door.
Walking Stationer.—A hawker of books, prints and dying-speeches, &c.
Walking-up against the Wall.—To run up a score, which in alehouses is commonly recorded with chalk on the walls of the bar.
Wapping Great.—Means astonishingly great. Saxon,Wafian, to be astonished.
Ware Hawk.—An exclamation used by thieves to inform their confederates that some police officers are at hand.
Warming-pan.—A large old fashioned watch.
Watch, Chain and Seals.—A sheep’s head and pluck.
Watchmaker.—A stealer of watches—hemakesthem in a crowd!
Water Sneaksman.—A man who steals from ships or crafts on the river.
Ways and Means.—To raise the supply of ready money for the current expenses of the day.
Wear the Breeches.—To be White Serjeant.
Weasel.—“To catch a weasel asleep.” To catch a person nodding; to find he has not his weather-eye open—Nunquam dormio!
Weather-Eye.—“I have my weather-eye open.” I have my wits about me; I know what I am after: I can see the difference between a clock and a cabbage.
Wedge.—Silver plate, because melted by the receivers of stolen goods into wedges.
West-End Tailor—A.—“Corinthian Tomhad just ordered his servant to bring him ‘The Weekly Dispatch,’ to see how sporting matters had been going on in the Metropolis during his absence from town, when Mr. Primefit—the West-EndSchneider!—Par excellence!—was announced toMr. Hawthornto be in waiting to receive his commands.
“Mr. Primefit, according to the ‘counter-talkingpart of the community,’ had done, all his ‘dirty work;’ and among theneedles—otherwisesharps—at the West-end of the Town, who must sport a genteeloutside, no matter at whosesuit, it was observed, between a grin and a pun, that he had not only got rid of all his ‘bad habits,’ but had likewise outlived hissufferings. It was said of this celebrated ‘apparel furnisher,’ that, if he received the cash forONEcoat out ofthree, nothing was the matter! In hisintercoursewith people of fashion, the character that ran before him was a perfectly gentlemanly tradesman. He had onepointin view on setting out in life, and he never lost sight of it. To ask his customers for payment was tolosetheir custom. Though for the first seven yearsDickey Primefitwas engaged incutting-uphis cloth, he washurriedbeyondmeasure, by those ‘troublesome customers,’John DoeandRichard Roe, who were continually at his elbow,nudginghim to take ‘measure of their suits’ in preference to every other person; his law expenses and ‘Mumtip’—that isrhinotosilence, or, shut-up thegabof thebum-traps—in consequence, were frightful; yetDickeybraved the fury of the woollen-draper’s ‘storm’ with the utmost composure. With a placid countenance he never refused credit to any British officer, either in the sea or land service, let the distance oruncertainty be what it might. Thereferenceof one gentleman to another was quite sufficient toMr. Primefit; and thegarmentswere made and sent home without further enquiry or delay. Of course, in return, thechargesofDickeywere never overhauled; indeed, whatGentlemanwould have behaved soungentlemanlyto a tradesman who was all civility, politeness, andaccommodation, from one end of his pattern-card to the other? The business ofMr. Primefit, therefore, became so extensive, that he sent clothes to all parts of the world. In London, nogentleman, who had been once in the books ofDickey, would listen to the name of any other tailor, which renderedPrimefitthe ‘gofor a tasty cut, best materials, and first-rate workmanship.’Dickeyhad a ‘soul above buttons,’ he had no narrow ideas belonging to him: and he flattered himself that, ultimately, it wouldall be right. ‘No gentleman,’Mr. Primefitwould often assert, when he has been blamed for giving such an extensive loose sort of credit, ‘I am convinced, but will act as such, sooner or later, towards me!’ So it proved. Things, at length, took the expected turn. Many long out-standing bills came in. His capital accumulated. His business also increased in so extraordinary a manner that several clerks were necessary to keep it in order, and ensure punctuality.Dickeywas almost as true as a clock to his time, in attending to orders. His character for fashion was soemphatic, that numbers of stylish tradesmen, who found it necessary to have a ‘bettermost coat’ by them, for ‘high days and holidays’ regardless of the charge, employedMr. Primefit. The sunshine of prosperity was now so complete, that not a singlebum-traphad crossed the threshold ofDickey’sdoor, in the way ofprivatebusiness, for many a long day past. In short,Mr. Primefithad realised the climax of his exertions—he hadmeasuredhis way into a carriage.Dickeywas principally distinguished for thecutof his coats. ToCorinthian Tomhe was peculiarly indebted, as a leader of the fashion. It was owing to this circumstance thatMr. Primefitwaited in person atCorinthian House; indeed, the active use of the scissors and parchment had long been removed from the hands ofDickey, and his principal occupation now consisted oftalkingover the versatility of fashion to his customers, and giving directions to his men. But the slightest idea that might drop fromCorinthian Tomrespecting the advantages of dress was whatDickeycould not resist, and he, therefore, ordered his carriage immediately to attend upon the rusticJerryat once.
“TomandJerry, previously to the arrival of theapparel-furnisher, had been discussing the advantages resulting fromdressandADDRESS; and theCorinthianhad also been pointing out to his Coz not toskimtoo lightly over so important a subject, but to peruse with most marked attention thatgrand livingBookofbooks:—MAN!!!”
Whetstone Park.—A lane between Holborn and Lincoln’s-Inn-Field’s. Formerly famed for being the resort of women of the town.
Whistling Shop.—A place in which spirits are sold without a licence. “Who that has ever visited a Friend undergoing a three months’ purification in the Fleet or King’s Bench, but has been introduced to aWhistling Shop; and who that has been initiated into its sacred rites, would basely betray his knowledge. No one at all ambitious of bearing the character of the realthing. Neither Mr. Brown nor Marshal Jones would thank anyPaul Pryfor splitting on this point. Any reader that may not have visited aWhistling Shop, cannot do better than put a little of thebustlein his poke; call on the first Friend he has inLimbo, and get introduced to one as quickly as possible; and thus do a double good, furnish himself with a little useful information, and cheer a Pal in distress at the same time.
Whitechapel.—Anything low, mean, or paltry.A Whitechapel portion, a smock, and what nature gave.Whitechapel breed, fat, ragged, and saucy.Whitechapel Beau, one who dresses with a needle and thread, and undresses with a knife.A Whitechapel Brougham, a costermonger’s donkey-barrow.
Wipe.—A nose handkerchief.
Wrench, Benjamin.—Comedian; original Corinthian Tom at the Adelphi, died November 24, 1843, aged 67.
Wrekin Tavern.—In Broad Court, Drury Lane, was much frequented by first-rate theatricals, authors, poets, painters, gentlemen of the press, men of the world, and intelligent persons in general, and was a house of entertainment of no common description, kept at the time by a Mr. Williams, a person connected with literary pursuits. It was to the Wrekin Tavern that Edmund Kean was conveyed on the ever-memorable night of the 24th of March, 1833, when he partly played Othello to his son Charles’s Iago, at Covent Garden Theatre. And described thus by his biographer:—
“After making one or two feeble steps towards his son, and attempting the speech of:—
Villian, be sure thou prove my love a whore;Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof, &c.
“When his head sunk on his son’s shoulder, and the tragedian’s acting was at an end. He was able to groan out a few words in Charles’s ear—‘I am dying—speak to them for me;’ after which (the audience refusing in kindness, to hear any apology) he was borne from the stage. His son, assisted by other persons, carried him to his dressing-room, and laid him on a sofa. He was as cold as ice; his pulse was scarcely perceptible; and he was unconscious of all that was going on around him. In this state he remained some time, when the remedies which were applied having restored him to his senses, he was taken to the ‘Wrekn’ Tavern, near the theatre, and Messrs. Carpue and Duchez, the surgeons, were sent for. From the Wrekin Tavern, he was after a week’s stay, removed to Richmond: where he died on the fifteenth day of May, 1833.”
The Wrekin Tavern—the Times—and the Proprietors underwent many changes from good, bad, and very indifferent; in fact, the character of house and company was entirely altered—O tempora! O mores!Here Johnny Broome, the pugilist, who was born at Birmingham, 1817, and the successful hero of six or seven battles in the P.R., and also the prime mover in “The Great Brighton Card Cheating Case,” committed suicide by cutting his throat, May 31, 1855.
LONDON:E. A. Beckett, Printer, 111 & 113, Kingsland Road, E.
Footnotes:
[1]Books published by G. Virtue, Ivy-lane, Paternoster-row:—
Boxiana;or, Sketches of Ancient and Modern Pugilism; including every Exploit from the Days of Figg and Broughton to the present year (1829); with Biographical Memoirs of all the Boxers, particulars of their age, weight, style of fighting, &c.; and interspersed with a variety of Sporting Anecdotes, never before published. By PIERCE EGAN.