Burlington Arcade, The—Piccadilly, London, opened 20th March, 1814.
Burster.—A small loaf. Abursterandbeeswax, bread and cheese.
Bustle.—Money of any sort or quantity.
Buzz—Buzzers.—Pickpockets.
Buzz Napper.—A young pickpocket.
Buzz Napper’s Academy.—A school in which young thieves are trained to the art. Stow informs us that in 1585 a person named Wotton kept anAcademyfor the education and perfection of pickpockets andcut-purses: two devices were hung up—one was a pocket, and the other was a purse; the pocket had in it certain counters, and was hung about with hawk’s bells, and over the top did hang a little scaring bell; the purse had silver in it, and he that could take out a counter without noise of any of the bells was adjudged a judicialnapper!
C.
Cabbage.—Cloth, stuff, or silk, purloined by tailors and sempstresses, who are for ever,snip! snip!! snipping!!!Cuttingsthat serve fortrimmingsto an occasional merry-making leg of mutton.
Cadge, Cadger, Cadging.—To beg, a beggar, begging of the lowest degree; a mean sort of thief. Very indefatigable persons in their vocation.
Cads of the Aristocracy.—Liveried footman, servants, and all other hangers on upon the nobility and gentry.
Cake.—A silly fellow, cakes being made like him, of very soft dough, and not over well baked.—Our cake’s dough on both sides.—Shakespeare.
Call me cousin—but cozen me not—Quoth Mrs. Saunders.
Calves gone to Grass.—Said of a man with slender legs. “He’s put some hay in his boots, and hiscalveshave gone down to feed.”
Calves’ Head.—A tallow-faced fellow, with a large meaty head. “Calves’ head is best hot,” was the apology for one of those who made “no bones” of dining with his hat on.
Came up to the Scratch.—A pugilistical phrase; also said of a person who keeps his appointments in money matters.
Canary.—A sovereign.Canary Birds, inmates of prisons.
Canister.—The head, with a sly allusion to its emptyness.Cracked canister, a broken head.
Cant.—A language made use of among beggars, gipsies, thieves, and theFancyin general.
Captain.—A travelling title, adopted by adventurers, who have no other good enough.
Captain is a good travelling name, and so I took it, it stops a good many foolish enquiries that are generally made about gentlemen who travel; it gives a man an air of something, and makes the drawers obedient. And thus far I am a captain, and no farther.—Farquhar’s, The Beaux’s Stratagem.
Captain is a good travelling name, and so I took it, it stops a good many foolish enquiries that are generally made about gentlemen who travel; it gives a man an air of something, and makes the drawers obedient. And thus far I am a captain, and no farther.—Farquhar’s, The Beaux’s Stratagem.
Captain Flasham.—A blustering, bounceable fellow.
Captain Queernabs.—A shabby ill-dressed fellow.
Carcase Lords.—Wholesale butchers who monopolise and forstall the markets.—“For wheresoever thecarcaseis, there will the eagles be gathered together.”
Card.—A man, who may be aknowing, adowny,cunning,shifting,queer, or any other sort ofCardaccording to circumstances.
Cart Wheel.—A five shilling piece.
Carving knife.—A sword.
Castle Tavern.—The Castle Tavern, Holborn, was first opened as a Sporting House by the well-knownBob Gregson; but designated at that period under the familiar title ofBob’s Chop House:—
His house is known to all themillingtrain;He gives them liquor, and relieves their pain.
The appearance of Bob Gregson was prepossessing—he was in height six feet one inch and a half, weighing about fifteen stone six pounds. It is rather singular to relate that Bob Gregson rose in the estimation of the Sporting World, from defeat, he fought only three battles in the P.R., and lost them all—thus, beaten by John Gulley, 200 gns., 36 rds., near Newmarket, Oct. 14, 1807. Again beaten by John Gulley, 200 gns., 75 mins., 28 rds., May 10, 1808. Beaten by Tom Cribb, 500 gns., 23 rds., Moulsey Hurst, Oct. 25, 1808. The sun for a long time shone brilliantly over the “Temple of the Fancy,” but poor Bob, like too many of his class, did not make hay while it was in his power; when the scene changed, the clouds of misfortune overwhelmed him; and the once sprightly, gay Lancashire hero was compelled to beat an inglorious retreat. The stylish, well-conductedTom Belcher, next appeared in the character of landlord of the Castle. The house had undergone some repairs, the rooms were all retouched by the painter; elegance with cleanliness, backed by civility, became the order of the day; a prime stock of liquors and wines were also laid in to command the attendance of the public.Tom’sopening dinner was completely successful, and theFancyrallied round a hero who had so nobly contended for victory in thirteen prize battles. Tom was also considered the most accomplished boxer of the day; and the remembrance, likewise, that he was the brother of the renowned Jem Belcher, werepointsin themselves of great attractions in the Sporting World; and the above Tavern again became one of the most favourite resorts of theFancyin general. Tom Belcher, after fourteen years residence at the Castle, was enabled by his civil conduct, attention to business, good luck, and a good quantity of the “Sweeteners of Life” withBank!security against a rainy day, he retired to a very handsome cottage on Finchley Common, living at his ease like a man of fortune, with his dog and his gun.Tom Spring—Champion of England—next appeared in the character of “Mine Host” at the Castle Tavern. “His appearance” said Pierce Egan—“is very much in his favour; and there is a manly dignity about his person which is prepossessing, his language is also mild and perfectly correct; and his behavour at all times truly civil and attentive to his customers.” A night spent at Tom Spring’s may not be regretted by the mostfastidiousvisitor. If theearscannot at all times be gratified with the various topics of argument brought forward; theeyeshave no cause for complaint, the coffee room and every part of it is covered over with some attractive device, and if there are not so many pictures for criticism as may be seen at theExhibition, there are a number of most excellent sporting subjects well worthy the attention of the observer. One of the most prominent amongst them for a display of talent is a “Picture of the Road going to theFight” drawn and etched from life by Robert Criukshank, Esq., but often attributed to his brother, George Cruikshank. As this is not the fact, and as the opportunity occurs we hasten to set the matter right, in order that everytubmay stand upon its own bottom, or, in other words, that the saddle may be put on the right horse. Soon after the above “Picture of the Road to the Fight” was hung up at the Castle Tavern, I met there one evening my two friends, Mr. Hone (the very clever editor of the ‘Every Day Book’ and several other publications of merit) and Mr. George Cruikshank. On looking at the picture, Mr. Hone said to me, after praising it to the skies, “George has out-done himself!” “No,” I replied, “you mean Bob Cruikshank.” “Indeed, I do not,” answered Mr. H., “I repeat, that George has out-done himself; and more clever touches of art I never saw—they are beautiful!” “Well,” said I, “if you are so positive, Mr. Hone, I will bet you anything you like, from a glass of grog to a five pound note, that Bob Cruikshank accompanied myself down the Road to Moulsey Hurst, to accomplish the above picture.” Upon Mr. Hone appealing to George Cruikshank on the subject, the latter celebrated artist, without the least hesitation, answered, “I had no hand in it.” After this declaration, Mr. Hone did not attempt to retract the compliments he had paid to the merits of the picture in question; but, of course, they now operated with double effect on the talents of Mr. Robert Cruikshank. In conclusion, I have only to observe that the Castle Tavern is open at all times to the visitor, either to confute my representation of it, or to verify the truth of my assertion—but of this circumstance I feel strongly assured that an evening spent at the above sporting house will never prove a source of regret to the stranger who is anxious to witness some of the peculiarities of “Life in London.”
Castor.—A hat. To prig acastor, to steal a hat.
Cast-your-Skin.—To pull off your clothes.
Champagne.—Charles Wright, of the Haymarket, London, and elsewhere, is the purveyorpar excellence!of this sparkling and spirit-stirring nectar, which being good in quality and moderate in price he is patronized by all theknowing kiddiesin town and country. But do not take my word for it, but call in and judge for yourself.
Champions of England.—From 1719 to 1857.—Figg1719.—George Taylor1734.—Jack Broughton1740.—Jack Slack1750.—Jem Stephens1760.—George Meggs1761.—Bill Darts1764.—Tom Lyons1769.—Harry Sellers1777.—Johnson1785.—Ben Ryan1790.—Mendoza1792.—John Jackson(retired) 1795.—Jem Belcher1803.—Pearce(the Game Chicken) 1805.—Gully(declined the office) 1808.—Tom Cribb(received a belt, not transferable, and cup) 1809.—Tom Spring(received four cups, and resigned office) 1824.—Jem Ward(received a belt, not transferable) 1825.—Deaf Burke(claimed the office) 1833.—Bendigo(beat Deaf Burke, claimed championship, and received a belt from Jem Ward).—Ben Caunt(beat Nick Ward, and received a transferrable belt by subscription) 1841.—Bendigo(beat Caunt, and got the belt) 1845.—Perry(the Tipton Slasher, after his fight withTom Paddock, claimed the office, as Bendigo declined fighting again) 1850.—Harry Broome(beat Perry, andsucceeded to the office) 1851.—Perry(again claimed the office, Harry Broome having forfeited to him in a match, and retired from the ring) 1853.—The office still claimed by the Tipton Slasher, who, during 1856 received forfeit from both Tom Paddock and Aaron Jones, 1857.
Charley.—A London watchman before the introduction of the present system of police.
Chaunt.—To sing or to make known.—The birdschauntmelody on every bush.
Chaunter.—A puffer, or hired bidder at a sale.SeeHorse Chaunter.
Chawbacons.—Country clodhoppers, rustics.
Cherry-colour.—A jocular name given to either of the two colours in a pack of cards. A black cat is said to be acherry-colouredcat, there beingblackas well asredcherries.
Children in the Wood.—Dice.—“Once before he won it of me by false dice.”
Chivey.—To run after, to chase, to move off quickly.
Chivey your Nurse.—To get rid of your tutor, guardian, father, &c.
Chovey.—A shop ascrocus chovey, a chemist shop, &c.
Chum.—A companion, a bedfellow, a fellow prisoner.
Church going Stays.—That is best stays for special purposes.
Churchwarden.—A very long clay pipe.
Churchyard Cough.—A cough that is likely to terminate in death.
Church with a Chimney in it.—A public house.
Civil Rig.—A trick of the beggars to obtain money byultracivility.
Clap of Thunder.—A glass of brandy.
Claret.—Blood. “I tapped him on the nose and out flew the claret.”Claret-faced, having a red face.
Clean gone.—Quite out of sight, vacated, levanted.
Cleaned Out.—Having lost all your money, beaten, ruined. “O horrid, horrid case.”
Clean Shirt Day.—Sunday.
Clenched it.—Completed the thing, orclenchedthe bargain.
Clockey.—A watchman, also a travelling clockmaker.
Cly.—A pocket,cly-fakers, pickpockets.
Coal.—Money,post-the-coal, pay down the money at once.
Cock and Hen Club.—A public-house concert, orFree-and-Easy, to which women are admitted, and everybody is supposed to do as they like, to stand upon no ceremony, come when they please, andbrushwhen it suits. But all sorts oflushmust betippedfor on delivery. “Poor Trust” being dead and buried.—“To keep the game alive,”Logicsaid toTomandJerry, “you shall now accompany me to what is termed aCock and Hen Club.Where you may say and do as you like, thecribis situated in an obscure part of the town, but I know it well.” * * * On entering the club-roomJerrywas struck with astonishment at the surrounding group. “It is nothing new to me,” repliedLogic, “but rather a renewed feature of low Life in London. But we will ask the waiter for some little account about the chairman, who appears to me to be an original; and we must also obtain, if possible, a trifling outline of his assistant, theLady Patronessof this meeting. The chairman in petticoats.”
“They are bothout-and-outers,” answered the waiter, “and nothing like them on earth to keep such an unruly company together, as ‘Any-thingTommy’ and ‘Half-quarternLuce!’ The chairmanTommy, has been, by turns, a costard-monger, a coal-whipper, a flying dustman, a boner ofstiff-ones—that’s a resurrection man, and a “anything,” to yarn an honest penny, and a bit of a prig, if it suited him, sooner than have to complain of an emptyVictualling-Office. He can throw off a flashchauntin the first style; and patterslang, better than most blades on the town:”—
Come all you rolling kiddy boys, that in London does abound,If you wants to see a bit of life, go to theBull in the Pound;’Tis there you’ll see Poll, Bet, and Sal, with many otherFlames,And “pitch and hustle,” “ring the bull,” and lots ofFancygames.
“As toHalf-quarternLuce,” continued the waiter, “she’s a clever woman, in fact, she was reared a real lady, but now she is scarcely ever sober. I have known her to drink thirty-six half-quarterns of gin in a day; it is from her love ofblue ruinshe derives her name.Lucewas once a very handsome woman, but she has been reduced, step by step, to the wretched creature she now appears to be, and drinks herself stupid to drown all reflections.”
“I have witnessed a great variety of scenes, since I have been in London,” saidJerrytoLogic, “but this is equal to any, if it does notbeggarthe whole of them, in truth, I had not the least idea that such meetings were suffered to take place.”
Coffee Mill.—A watchman’s rattle.
College.—The Fleet Prison, or King’s Bench, a rough school, but salutary at times,collegiates, the prisoners.
Coper.—or Horse couper—a cheating horse dealer. SeeHorse Chaunter.
Core.—The heart.—In my heart’s core.—Horatio.
Cooped up.—Confined in thePoultry Counter, or elsewhere.
Chaffer.—The mouth.
Chaffing Crib.—A drinking-room where quizzing or bantering is carried on.Chaff-cutting, joking, jesting, playing on words.
Chalk, A.—An advantage.Take a chalk, the admitting of the advantage. In public-houses it is usual for thehabituèsto keep the score of a game of cards, dominoes, or coddom, &c., by means of chalk marks thus, | | | | |; therefore when one of the parties gains an advantage, hetakes a chalkby rubbing one out.
Chalk Farm.—A well-known tavern and tea-garden, near Primrose-hill,aliasCockney-mount, between Hampstead and Highgate. This house is said to have taken its name from the farm being of a chalky soil, or, do they usedouble chalk!to their customers, who frequent this house either for amusement—or mischief! the “farm” is much resorted to by those persons who cannot settle a dispute without the use of powder and shot. HenceJemmy Greensays—“Vell, I’m glad its settled vithout bloodshed—Chalk Farm! pistols! half-past six!—Pooh!!!”
Chalk Up.—To have credit at a public-house, where they usuallychalk upthe amount behind the door, or on a large slate kept for that purpose.
Copy of Uneasiness.—A copy of a writ.
Corinthians.—Sporting men of rank and fashion:—I am no proud Jack, Like Falstaff, but aCorinthian, a lad of mettle.—Shakespeare.
Corinthian Kate—and her friendSue.—In the originalLife in Londonthese ladies were meant assketches in water coloursof the notoriousMrs. Maples, aliasMrs. Bertram, aliasMother Bang; and the no less notoriousHarriett Wilson, aliasMrs. Colonel Rochfort; heroines whose “birth, parentage, and education—life, character, and behaviour,” have been made execrable by that congenial pair of publishers in infamyMessrs. StockdaleandDuncombe:—The characters ofKateandSueare in ratherdifferent keepingin the dramatic version, and are at the service of any couple of modest, harmless, though at the same time somewhat adventurous, love-sick, roving young ladies, that may choose to claim them.
Costermonger.—See my friend Hone’s Jewel of a Work, for Instruction and Amusement, the Every Day Book, Vol. I.
Cousin Betty.—A travelling prostitute, frequenting fairs, races, and country club feasts.—“Ah! could you but seeBet Bouucerof these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod! she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion.”Tony Lumpkin:She Stoops to Conquer.
Cove, or Covey.—A knowing fellow,covessfeminine ofcove.Covess of the Ken, the mistress of the house.
Cover me Decently.—A great coat with men, and a cloak with women.
Court Card.—A trump, or out and out good one. A spirited fellow.
Crack.—The fashionable theme. TheGo! All the crack!First-rate, as acrack article, an excellent one;crack a bottle, to drink;crack a crib, to break into a house;crack a canister, to break a man’s head; acrack-fencer, one who sells nuts; acrack hand, an adept;in a crack, in a moment;crack a kirk, to break into a church or chapel;crack, horses—men—races—regiments, &c., all first class of their kinds;crack-up, to praise; tocrack a whidorwheeze, to make a joke, jokes or witticism; acrack-whip, a good coachman.
Crib.—A house, or an apartment.
Cribb’s Crib.—A slang alliteration for Tom Cribb’s house, theUnion Arms, corner of Oxendon Street and Panton Street, Haymarket.
Cross.—A very general term for getting a living by dishonest means, and symbolized by placing the forefingers thus╳, and is in direct opposition tobeing on the◻, as implying honesty. Across-fight, a sold prize fight.Cross-men, thieves and receivers of every degree.Cross-crib, a public-house where thieves “most do congregate.”
Crowdsman.—A fiddler.
Cubitt’s Machine.—The treadmill.
Cucumbers.—Tailors, because both are seedy.
Cut along Coaches.—The accidents of life.
Cyprians.—Women of loose morals. So called from the Island of Cyprus, one of the chief seats of the worship of Venus, hence called Cypria.
Cruikshank, Isaac Robert.—Caricaturist, born 1791. Illustrated many books, &c., including Pierce Egan’s, “TheFinishto the Adventures ofTom,Jerry, andLogic, in their pursuits throughLifein and out of London,” 1827. Died March 13, 1856.
Cruikshank, George.—Caricaturist, born September 27, 1792. Illustrated Hone’s political squibs, 1817-20; “Peter Schlemil, Mornings at Bow-Street,” and in conjunction with his brother “Tom and Jerry,” and many other books since, died 1879.
D.
Dab.—A bed, also a slight blow, as adabon the cheek.
Daffy.—Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin! Pierce Egan says in his “Book of SportsandMirror of Life.”—“During the time Tom Belcher was the landlord of the Castle Tavern, Holborn, theDaffy Clubwas started by Mr. James Soares”—SeeBaron Nab’em.—“The above club is a complete antidote to theBlue Devils, and has to boast of greater advantages than any other Society in the Metropolis, from its members being always inSpirits! Formality does not belong to this Institution; it has no written rules to bind its members; no specified time of meeting; no fines for non-attendance; but the corner-stone is “To do what is right.”—The onlydefinitionI can give to the term “Daffy” is that the phrase was coined at theMintofFancy, and has since passedcurrentwithout being overhauled asqueer. ThesqueamishFair One who takes theDaffyregularly on theslymerely to cure thevapours, politely names it to her friends as “White Wine.” TheSwell chaffsit as “Blue Ruin” to elevate his notions. TheLaundressloves dearly a drain of “Ould Tom,” from its strength tocomforther inside. Thedrag Fiddlercantoss offa quartern of “Max” without making a wry mug. TheCoster Mongerillumines his ideas with “a flash of lightning.” Thehoarse Cyprianowes her existence to copious draughts of “Jacky.” TheLink BoyandMud Larks, in joining theirbrownstogether, are for some “Stark Naked.” And theOut and Outers, from the addition ofbittersto it in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damagedVictualling Office, cannot take any thing but “Fuller’s Earth.” Much it should seem, therefore, depends upon a name; and as a soft sound is at all times pleasing to thelistener—to have denominated the Sporting Society the “GIN CLUB,” would not only have provedbarbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of thechauntmight have deprived it of many of its elegant friends. It is a subject, however, which must be admitted has a good deal ofTastebelonging to it—and as a Sporting Man would benothingif he was notflash, the DAFFY CLUB meet under the above title.”
Dairies.—Bosom—a woman’s breasts. Milk-cans!
Dandy.—A coxcomb, a fop; an empty-headed, vain person. In 1820, when Geo. III.mizzled, and Geo. IV.reignedwiththunderandlightningspeed. Pierce Egan published the birth, parentage, and education of the Dandy thus:The Dandywas got byVanityout ofAffectation—his dam,Petit-MaîtreorMaccaroni—his grand-dam,Fribble—great-grand-dam,Bronze—his great-great-great-grand-dam,Coxcomb—and his earliest ancestor,Fop. His uncleImpudence—his three brothersTrick,Humbug, andFudge! and allied to the extensive family of theShuffletons. Indeed, thisBandboxsort of creature took so much the lead in the walks of fashion, that theBuckwas totally missing; theBloodvanished; theTippynot to be found, theGoout of date; theDashnot to be met with; and theBang-upwithout a leader, at fault, and in the back-ground. It was only theCorinthianthat remained triumphant—his excellence was of such agenuinequality that allimitationwas left at an immeasurable distance.
Dandiprat.—An insignificent or trifling fellow.
Dandy-cock.—A littledandyman, one of the Bantam breed.
Darkey.—Night, also a man of colour.
Dead-beat.—Quite done up, not a leg to stand on. Common phrases in the Sporting World, when a man or a horse is so completely exhausted with over-exertion, or the constitution breaking down, as to give up the object in view, not being able to pursue it any farther.
Deadly’s Fluid.—Gin, distilled at Deady and Hanley’s, Hampstead Road.
Dealer’s in Queer.—Passers of bad notes.
Demirep.—A flighty woman, too free in her manners.
Devil’s Bones.—Dice, which are made of bones and lead to ruin.
Dibdin, Charles.—Writer of sea songs and operas, born 1745, died July 25, 1814. Hisevergreen!Ballad Opera, The Waterman; or, The First of August, was first performed at the Haymarket Theatre, 1774, thus cast:—
Dimmock.—Money.To flap the dimmock, to spend the money.
Dive.—A visit to the lower regions of Wapping and St. Giles’s.
Diamond Squad.—People of quality.VideAlmack’s.
Dog Billy.—The—This celebrated Hero of the canine race to the great joy of the rats, lost hiswindon Monday, February 23, 1829, in Panton Street,Haymarket. The body-snatchers anddog-priggersare out-done upon this suit, and the remains of Billy, instead of being obscured inclay, are preserved in an elegant glass case and gilt frame. The Ex-Champion, Tom Cribb, wholikedBillywhenalive, still likes him althoughtold out. Billy was the property of Charley Aistrop when he lastbarkedout an adieu; although Cribb was his tender nurse up to the time when he gave up the ghost. The rats it is said, are extremely glad to find Billy has left nosuccessorto give them a nip.
Monody on the above Rat Killer.Not abarkwas heard—but a mournful whineBroke in cadence slow from the race canine;And the prick’d-up ear, and wagging tail,Were drooping low ’mid the general wail.**************Not abarkwas heard—but a lively squeakWas echoed from rat to rat (a whole week),From Whitechapel Church to Piccadilly,Of “Longlifeto grimDeath—forboningBilly!”
Done the thing Right.—Managed matters properly, taken care of one’s-self and one’s friend.
Dollop.—A handful. A lump of anything.
Dominoes.—The teeth.
Down.—Understanding. To bedown. To understand, to befly.
Doxies.—Loose women—prostitutes.
Dragging-Time.—The evening of a fair-day, when the wenches are pulled about.
Draggle-Tail.—A slut, a dunghill quean.
Drinking Freely.—Not paying for it.
Drop.—The gallows, which always proves to be the “last drop,” or “a drop too much.”
Duce.—Twopence.
Dummy.—A cant phrase for a stupid fellow; a man who has not a word to say for himself. The family of thedummiesis a very numerous one.
Dust.—Money. Down with thedust, to spend money.
Dust-Hole.—The nose, otherwiseSnuff-receiver!
Dustman.—Sleep, or drowsiness.
Dustypoll.—A nickname for a miller.
E.
Earth Stoppers.—Horses’ feet.Earth Stopping, stopping up the holes of foxes previously to hunting them.
Egg-Hot.—Beer, eggs, spirits, sugar, and spice made hot.
Everlasting Shoes.—The feet.
Everlasting Staircase.—The treadmill.
Eye Water.—Gin.
F.
Face.—Impudence;To face it out. To persist in an assertion which is not true. To maintain without changing colour, or hanging down the head.Brazen-faced, without shame.—God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.—Shakespeare.
Fadge.—To suit or fit together—“How will this fadge?” also a street term for a farthing.
Family People.—Rogues and thieves of every degree: All of the samefamilyorKidney!—There is nothing but roguery to be found in villianous man.—Shakespeare.
Fancy.—Boxing, bull baiting, cock fighting, and sporting in general.
Fancy Piece.—A sporting phrase for a bit of nicegamekept in apreservein the suburbs. A sort ofBird of Paradise.
Fast trotters.—Rum prads, good horses.
Felt.—A hat.—“What manner of man? is his head worth a hat.”
Fib.—To beat or strike with the fist.Fibbed, held with one hand, and hit with the other.
Fiddle.—A rattle,Charleys’ fiddle, a Watchman’s rattle.
Fiddler’s Fare.—Meat, drink and money.
Fig.—Tofiga horse is to place a bit of ginger under his tail to make him frisky.Fig, dress. InFull Fig, full dress.—“All in the best.”
Fig leaf.—An apron, an allusion to our Mother Eve.
File.—An odd fellow, a queer dog, a bit of a rogue.
Finish.—The “Finish” was a notorious night-house kept by Jack Rowbottom, in James-street, Covent Garden. Here the swells who werebundledout of Offley’s, about four o’clock in the morningbundledinto theFinish, where drinking and otherinnocentpastimes were kept up till eight, nine, or ten o’clock. Jack Rowbottom was quite a study in character. Soon after 1832, he got into “diffs,” and his residence was divided between the King’s Bench and the Fleet Prison. In the latter poor Dr. Maginn expired in his arms, after being faithfully nursed and attended by Jack during a long illness.
Fish—Fishing:—Some fish for compliments, and get what they want. Some fish in dirty waters and get what they do not want: but remainas mute as a fishon the subject.
Fives.—‘Bunch ofFives,’ the fist—Fives Court(The) was a large room in the neighbourhood of St. Martin’s-lane, where the prize fighters of the day took their Benefits and made open challenges.
Flame.—A sweetheart.An old flame, a discarded one.
Flash.—Cant language, also to sport or show off. A fellow who affects any particular habit, as swearing, dressing in a particular manner, taking a fashionable snuff, &c., &c., merely to be noticed, is said to do it out offlash.Flashman, a despicable wretch and the paramour of a prostitute.
Flash of Lightning.—A glass of gin, “gone in the twinkling of an eye.”
Flat Catcher.—A man, woman, or any article intended to take in the public.
FlatcumSharp:par nobile fratrum.—There is not a word in cant or flash vocabulary, nor, in the English language, taken in its right sense and meaning, that conveys so much, and is so generally applicable, as the simple monosyllableFlat. There areflatsof every rank, grade, and station in society, in every part of the known world—and possibly in the unexplored portion also. There areflatsalike in office and out; in the senate house and in the cottage—from the councillor of state to the omega of legislators, parochial vestrymen! Oh, most comprehensive patronymic!Sharpis also a good term; but only a cipher, in numerical strength of application, when compared withflat. Flat is an independent, honest, and respectable word. Sharp is diametrically opposite; it owes its very birth toflat, and cannot live without it.Flatis the parent; progenitor, and preserver ofsharp, the very root and sap of its existence. Without flats sharps would become extinct. The fact ofsharphaving sprung fromflatis so apparent, that there is not asharpto be found that has not aflatabout him; there consanguinity, therefore, is undoubted.
Such is human nature, that three parts of the vast universe is peopled withflats; while the circumscribed and degenerated race ofsharpsdo not occupy more than a quarter or one fourth of the space. Another proof may be adduced of the independence of theflats, and that is that they can live, flourish, and prosper much better without the company ofsharpsthan with it. Not so with thesharps. They cannot herd and feed together without first getting the means from the substance and resources of theflats. We think we have satisfactorily proved to every dispassionate, disinterested individual, thatsharpsare entirely dependent upon their fathers and forefathers, theflats!and there can be very little doubt but that they are both ungrateful and undutiful to the parents who have, as we have shown, given them being, succour, the means of existence.
If asharphappens to reside in the neighbourhood of aflat, he will always be found setting his wits to work to relieve him of his property and earnings, even though thesharphave plenty, and the flat but little. Such is the undutifulpenchantof thesharpfor the goods and chattels of his progenitor the flat!
In this good city, not inappropriately denominated the world’s metropolis,flatsandsharpsare plentiful, and may be found located together in every street and alley. Although theflatshave the advantage numerically, suchare the ingenuity and plausible tactics of thesharps, that they compel theflatsto work to support them. Thesharps, though industrious at scheming, always profess, as their creed, a profound and rooted contempt for manual labour. Sharps are not found among gravel-diggers or stone-breakers; we may go further—seldom amongst artisans or mechanics of any description. No, they are men whose exalted minds soar far above the ordinary pursuits even of middle life. The army boasts of them in abundance. The navy may be said to be composed offlats, with scarcely one exception. The attachment of thesharpsto the red-coat service of their country is clearly demonstrated by the fact of theéliteof their class conferring military titles on themselves, without troubling the formal publicity of theGazette! We may safely venture to assert, that there is not an army of any nation that can boast of the number of staff-officers that adorn the lists of our royal corps of Londonmalleteers, otherwise gentlemen sharps. They resemble our disbanded militia, only the staff preserved. It is said and sung that “One half the world does not know how the other half lives—or dies.” How true is that oft-used aphorism? What quiet, respectable, church-going citizen would believe that, early as he rises to give his best care to the legitimate commerce of his enterprise, there are many traders in the illegitimate mercantile world who are wide awake, and in full pursuit of their customers long before his drowsy eyes are open to the brightly-shining sun; long before the aforesaid shining sun has superseded the gas-light radiance shed over the populous city of London:—
From East-end to West-end.From worst end to best end?
Flats.—Persons easily taken in, good customers.
Flesh and Blood.—Port wine and brandy mixed.
Flimsy.—A bank note, according to Cobbett a veryflimsything.
Floored.—Knocked down.
Flowers of Society.—The ornaments of high life, the upper classes.
Flue Fakers.—Chimney sweepers.
Fly.—Knowing, wide awake.
Fogle.—A handkerchief.
Fork out.—To give money.
Four Eyes.—The man and the spectacles.
Free-and-Easy.—A singing-club, held at public-houses.
Freshwater Bay.—Theharbourof theFleet-Prison.
Frisk.—Mischief, to dance and skip about.
Fullams.—Loaded dice. There were highfullams, and lowfullams, to denote loaded on the high or low number.
Full Cry.—When all the hounds have caught the scent, and give tongue, Tom and Jerry, when in town, had othergamein view.
Fuller’s Earth.—Another of the thousand endearing names for the universal favouriteGin! Gin!! Gin!!!
Funk.—To smoke, to alarm.
G.
Gab.—Small talk, patter, flash.Gift of the Gab, talent in conversation.
Gaffing.—Low gambling.
Game of the Spell.—The play of life.
Gammoners.—Cheats.
Gammoning the Draper.—When a man is without a shirt, and is buttoned up close to his neck, with merely a handkerchief round it, to make an appearance of cleanliness, it is termed “gammoning the draper!”
Gammoning a Main.—Pretending to be hurt, or crippled.
Garnish.—Entrance money, to be spent in drink, demanded of all newcomers in Debtor’s Prisons.
Gay Tyke Boys.—Dog fanciers.
Gig.—Fun.Bit of gig, a bit of fun.
Gin Spinners.—Distillers, also publicans.
Glim.—A lanthorn, a hazy eye, &c.
Goldfinches.—Sovereigns.—“Fine singing birds.”
Go it.—Keep it up: keep moving.
Gomersal, Edward Alexander, Actor: represented with wonderful success Napoleon, in the Astley’s dramatic version of the Battle of Waterloo, died at Leeds, October 19th, 1862, aged 74.
Grand-twig.—Handsome set out.
Grand Strut—The.—Rotten Row, Hyde Park.
Gravel Digger.—A sharp toe’d dancer.
Greeks.—Black legs, sharpers, &c. Also a term for low Irish People.
Green.—Raw, not understanding.
Greyhound, A.—Should have according to all sporting Kiddies:—
A head like a snake, a neck like a drake,A back like a beam, a belly like a bream:A foot like a cat, a tail like a rat.
Grimaldi, Joseph.Vulgo, Joey Grimaldi, the renowned clown, 1779-1837.
Grog.—Rum and water cold without. Admiral Vernon was called “Old Grog” by his sailors, because he was accustomed to walk the deck in rough weather in a “grogram cloak,” as he was the first to serve water in the rum on board ship, the mixture went by the name ofGrog.Tom,JerryandBobLogicfound out itsuseandabusenot only in theBack Slumsin theHoly Land, but at Mr. Mace’sCribin the East.
Grub.—It is scarcely necessary to explain the meaning ofgrub; it is a subject in themouthof everybody, and therefore interesting to thetaste. Indeed, this sort ofcantis quite current throughout all ranks of society, and is well understood.—Grub and Bub, victuals and drink of any kind.
Grub-street.—This phrase, respecting theresidenceofAuthors, is nearly obsolete; and, in point of fact, is altogether erroneous. If it might not be deemed trespassing rather toofeelinglyupon so delicate a subject, in consulting the best authorities, both living and dead, it will be found thathungryAuthors, in the best of times, have had very little to do withgrub-street! thesmellof the joint being more within their province than the actual possession of the substance.
Guinea Pig.—A fellow who receives aguineafor puffing off an unsound horse.
H.
Habeas Corpus.—Body and breeches.
Haberdasher.—Is the whistler, otherwise the spirit-merchant—andtapethe commodity he deals in. It is a contrabrand article dispensed in Debtor’s Goals. White isMax, and red isCognac.—“You see” says theHaberdasher, “smuggling does a lot ofgood, it does megood, and it does yougood, and do’nt you see itdoesthe Government!”
Hack.—A coach.SeeJarvey.
Half and Half Coves.—Neither one thing nor the other.
Hammer School.—Boxing School.
Harp.—The Harp tavern in Russell Street, Drury Lane, is well known—if the phrase is not offensive to the profession, as a House of Call for Actors. Here you have an opportunity of viewing, and interviewing players in and out of an engagement, stage-struck youths, anxious to become actors; and other perfect enthusiasts, together withmummers, andspongerswithout end, ever ready to getLushout of you, or make you a member of theCity of Lushington!seeBuffaloism.
Then off he went, quite full of glee,Strutting towards theHarp,In hopes some manager to see;Mixing withFlatandSharp!Pierce Egan’s—The Show Folks.
Hartland, Frederick, Pantomimist, died August 17th, 1852, aged 70.
Hear any thing knock.—Take the office, to be put up to any thing that is going forward.
Heavy Plodders.—Stock brokers.
Heavy Wet.—Porter.
Hedge.—To“hedge off,” or “its a prime hedge for me,” are phrases repeatedly made use of in the Sporting World, when an individual wishes to save himself from any serious consequences.
Heel Tap.—“Bumpers all round,” and noheel-taps! “that is,” saidBob Logic, “your glasses are to be drained to the bottom.”
Hell.—A gambling house, from theinfernalpractices carried on in such places. In 1823 Lord Byron wrote—“What number of Hells there may be now in this life, I know not. Before I was of age, I knew them pretty accurately, both “Gold” and “Silver.” I was once nearly called out by an acquaintance, because, when he asked me where I thought that his soul would be found hereafter, I answered, ‘In Silver Hell.’”—
Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner,Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels,St. James’s Palace, and St. James’s Hells.
Hells upon Earth.—Is a name given to theSwell Gambling-houses, at the West-end of the town; most of them situated in the vicinity of St. James’ Street. Some of the principal of these have beenqueered outright, by the vigilance and exertions of thebeaks, whose orders to thetrapsupon the subject were so imperative, that takingtip to stashthe matter, was quite out of the question; and some of the most distinguishedSpiritsthat haunted these infernal abodes, were actually put under the discipline ofCubitt’s Machineto purify. But though the amateur of thebroadsmay as he perambulates the suburbs of the Palace, see reason in many instances, to mourn for the desolation of hisZion, there are still enough of these places to make “aHellupon earth” for thousands. All of these now remaining, are however eclipsed by thepiscatory Hell, calledFishmongers’ Hall! so named, fromCrockford, the keeper of it, having formerly been a Fishmonger, many persons rememberCrockford, a poor, very poorSprat Seller, yet he must now be living at the rate of nearly £4000, annum.—“Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.” at this establishment money is sported likedirt, which may account for so many of the visitors beingcleaned out. It is a question whether any other Fishmonger’s shop, can boast of so numerous an assembly offlat fish and gudgeons.
Impromptu.
On hearing that Mr. Ude, the celebrated cook, was engaged by Mr. Crockford, at a salary of £1,200 per annum.
With thisUdefor a cook—who all cooks doth excell—There’ll be nothing onearthlike a dinner in “Hell!”
Hen and Chickens.—All my prettychickensand theirdam, St. James’.—TheMissusand theblooming kids, St. Giles’.
Highflier.—A tip-topper, a first rater.
Hop Merchant.—A dancing master.
Holy Land.—The back slums of St. Giles’.
Holy Water.—Gin.
Horse Chaunter.—A man being brought up at one of the police courts, the magistrate asked, “What is your trade?”—“A horse chaunter, yervurship.”—“A what! a horse chaunter? Why what’s that?”—“Vy, yer vurship, ain’t youupto that ere trade?”—“Come, explain yourself,” said the magistrate.—“Vell, yer vurship, I goes round among the livery stables—they all on’em knows me—and ven I sees a gen’man bargaining for an ’orse, I just steps up like a stranger, and ses I, “Vell, that’s a rare ’un, I’ll be bound,” ses I; ‘he’s got the beautifullest ’ead and neck as ever I seed,’ ses I; ‘only look at ’is open nostrils—he’s got vind like a no-go-motive, I’ll be bound; he’ll travel a hundred miles a day, and never vunce think on’t; them’s the kind of legs vat never fails.’ Vell, this tickles the gen’man, and he ses to ’imself, ‘that ’ere ’onest countryman’s a rale judge of a ’orse;’ so please you, yer vurship, he buys ’im and trots off. Vell, then I goes up to the man vat keeps the stable, and axes ’im, ‘Vell, vat are you going to stand for that ’erechaunt?’ and he gives me a suvrin. Vell, that’s vat I call ’orsechaunting, yer vurship; there’s rale little ’arm in it; there’s a good many sorts on us; somechauntscanals, somechauntsrailroads, somechauntsj’int stock companies, and ther’s a werry many otherchauntsin this ’ere vorld as is too numerous to mention and some on ’em as even me nor ye vurship is’nt fly too.”
Hot House.—A brothel:—“Now she professes a hot-house, which I think, is a very ill-house too.”
Hot Waters.—Spirits.
Humming Ale.—Strong liquor that froths well. A corruption ofspuming. French,espuma, froth. Latin,spuma.
Hummums.—The well-known hotel in Covent Garden. So called from an Eastern word, signifyingbaths.RockleyandtheCo.is theBoss of the Show, andTawny Portthe order of the day.Bob Soutar—ultra—crepidam?andJoe Cave (at) actor? Mayfor your dresses, andWhitefor spangles. Chaffcutting from 12 till 5 daily.
Hyde Park.—London, W., was the ancient manor of Hyde, belonging to the Abbey of Westminster, became Crown property at the dissolution 1539. It was sold by parliament in 1652, but was resumed by the King at the restoration in 1661. The Serpentine was formed 1730-33. “My dearJerry,” saidTom, “Hyde Parkis in my opinion, one of the most delightful scenes in the world. Indeed it is a fine picture of the English people. It is in this Park,Jerry, that thePrincemay be seen dressed as plain as the most humble individual in the kingdom; theTradesmanmore stylish in his apparel than hisLordship; and theShopmanwith as fine clothes on his person as aDuke. TheCountessnot half so much ‘bedizened’ over as her ownWaiting-Maid; theApprentice-Boyas sprucelyset-offas a young sprig ofNobility; while theMilliner’s Lassin finery excels theDuchess. But the air of independence which each person seems to breathe renders thetout ensemblecaptivating.”
“Observe those primebits of blood,” from the choicest studs in the kingdom, prancing about as proud as peacocks, and almost unmanageable to their dashing riders. TheGoldfinchesof the day trying to excel each other in point of coachmanship, turning their vehicles rapidly—almost to the eighteenth part of an inch, each priding himself in having obtained the character fordisplaying the most elegant “set-out.” TheMan of Tonstaringsome modest female, that attracts his attention, completely out of countenance; while theLady of Rank, equallydelicatein her ideas of propriety, uses herglassupon the same object till her carriage removes her out of sight. TheDebauchee, endeavouring to renovate or brace himself up with the fine air of the Park,oglingall the girls that cross his path. TheSwell Dandycould not exist if he did not show himself in the Park on a Sunday. TheGambleron thelook-outto see if any new pigeon appears in the circle, in order to plan future operations that may turn out to his advantage. Thepeep o’-dayWomanof Quality, who, night after night, disposes of all her hours of rest in card-parties and routs, is here to be seen riding down the circle tochit-chatand nod to her friends, in order to get rid of her yawnings, and to appear something like beingawakeat dinner-time. ThePeer, relaxing from his parliamentary duties, and the Members of the Lower House here take a ride among the various parties in the circle, to hear their conduct and measures descanted upon, and likewise to “pick-up” a little information respecting the buz on public affairs. The schemingProcuresssporting some new-caught lady-birds in a splendid carriage, in order to excite attention and to distribute hercardswith more effect. The wealthyCit, whoseplumhas rendered himsweetamongst his grand next-door neighbours at the West-end of the town, here shows himself with all the confidence derived from a splendid fortune. The extravagantFancy-Lady, making use of the thousand little arts that she is mistress of, trying to take theshineout of all the other females in the circle, merely to show thetasteand liberality of herkeeper. Theflashy Tradesman, who laughs at the vulgar prejudices of old sayings and propriety about “Keeping your shop and it will keep you,” here pushes along in hisnattygig and prime trotter, and appears upon as “good terms” with himself as the richest banker in London, laughing in his sleeve at the idea, that, if anything goes wrong from his stylish-pursuits, a temporary absence from his friends, united with the aid ofwhite-washing, will soon make him “all right again.”
It is equally interesting and attractive, from the numerous characters of both sexes,oglingeach other, as they frequently come in contact. TheTailorconfined to his shop-board all the week, enjoys the double advantage of gaining a little fresh air in the Park, as well as admiring some of his own performances on the backs of many of the dashing crowd; and theMilliner, also upon the same errand, not only to improve her health, but to retain in her eye the newest fashion sported in this hemisphere of theGreat. The pleasure, too, of being known and recognized by your friends and acquaintances. The numerous bows and friendly How d’ye do’s? With that admired sort ofLife in London, all jostling against each other in the Park with the utmostsang-froid. TheNoblemanand theYokel—theDivineand the “Family-man”—thePlayerand thePoet—theImpureand theModest-girl—theGraveand theGay—theFlash Coveand theMan of Sentiment—theFlatand theSharp—theDandyand theGentleman—the out-and-outSwelland theGroom—the realSportsmanand theBlack-Leg—theHeavy Toddlersand theOperators—the dashingBum Trapand theShy Cove—theMarchionessand herCook—theDukeand the “Dealer in Queer,”—theLadyand herScullion—thePink of the Tonand his“Rainbow”—theWhitechapelKnight of the Cleaverand his fatRib—theBarber’s Clerkand theCostard-Monger—theSlaveyand herMaster—theSurgeonandResurrection Man—the ardentLoverto catch the smiling eye of hisMistress—the youngBloodin search of adventures and to make assignations.
It ought, however, not to be forgotten, that every thing which is lovely, interesting, honourable, virtuous, generous, feeling, witty, elegant, and humane, which tends so much to give the English females a proud superiority over those of most other nations, is here to be met with in a transcendant degree; and it should also be remembered, that every thing which is designing, crafty, plausible, imposing, insinuating, and deluding, is likewise to be run against in these gay paths of pleasure. The passions are allafloat, butGaietyof disposition overtops the whole.
I.
Index.—Reference.
I’ll Chance It.—A common expression among sporting men, when the object in view is doubtful of accomplishment.It is a good Flat that is never done.
I’s Yorkshire Coves.—Doncaster horse dealers.
Isle of Bishop.—A phrase among the Collegians at Oxford for gettingjollyover port wine, roasted oranges and lemons.
Ivories.—The teeth:wash, orsluiceyourIvories; drink.
J.
Jackson’s Rooms—were in Bond Street.—Mr. John Jackson, otherwise Gentleman Jackson? The proprietor was for a long time the connecting link between the patrons and practitioners of the Prize Ring. His persevering and honourable character enabled him to realize a handsome competence. He died at his residence 4, Grosvenor-street, Eaton-square, Oct. 7, 1845, aged 76.
Jarvey.—A Hackney-coach—“Better known perhaps by the name of aHack: handy enough in wet weather or in a hurry.”
Jemmy.—A head.Bleeding Jemmy.—A sheep’s head, otherwise aField-lane duck, otherwiseThe one eyed joint, otherwiseClaretted James, otherwiseSanguinary Jacobus, otherwise aPastoral Countenance, otherwise aMountain Pecker, otherwise aPeaceful Profile. That man is to be pitied, who has not luxuriated on the delicasies of one of these, hot from the pan in their native element, at Mrs. Holmes’, the Two Brewers—the Sheep’s Head Tavern, Little St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials. Where the particular guest is never offended with a dirty table cloth, that appendage to mastication being invariably dispensed with; always taking care that they are accompanied with their proper and only sauce—a little of Hodges’s best, or Deady’s true cordial. Poor Colley Skylark, the Apollo of the pugilistic corps, has neglected manylordly banquets, for the felicity of feeding on them, and gouging out the rich eye in company with many of the gifted and learned of the age, viz.—The Keen pride of the British stage—the Comic Sheepface of Covent Garden—The talented author of theCigarwho acted asClarketo the meeting: in their nocturnal vigils, and rich chaunts, will long be remembered there. Let us hope that Mr. Nash, the great architect, in his projected inroads through the Seven Dials, will spare this sacred haunt, so dear to the sons of good-feeding and fellowship. If he has ever had the happiness of regaling there, on a red hotbleeding jemmy!this remonstrance will not be needed.
Jemmy Green.—Every one must know this gentleman; he is a veritable being, and in being;—but as he is here said to live inTooley Street, in the City, a place of no existence, no libel will lie. The livelyBunch of Greens, therefore, that at one time so pestered the Author with threatening and other letters, are informed their suspicions are quite correct, and that they were most certainly the officious empty fools of which this character is the representative.
Jerry Sneak.—A henpecked husband. From the poor sniveling Cockney cur in Foote’s farce of the “Mayor of Garrett.”
Johnny Raw.—A countryman.
Juniper.—Gin.
Junk.—Salt beef.
K.
Kean.—“HearKeanspeak.” Edmund Kean, the celebrated tragedian, 1787-1833.
Kean’s Head—The.—Was a well-known theatrical tavern in Russell Court, Drury Lane. It had previously been called the O.P. and P.S. but re-christened inhonour!to the celebrated tragedian—then in the zenith of his fame, the late Edmund Kean:—
Then off again, no fear or dread,To the once famed O.P.In better taste—chang’d toKean’s Head—And noted for aspree!Pierce Egan’sThe Show Folks.
The tavern was much frequented by all persons directly and indirectly connected with the theatrical profession. And was at one time kept by Tom Hudson, a jollybon vivant, and famous comic song writer and singer, of whom Pierce Egan, wrote—“his facility in producing songs is astonishing—he also sings them with a peculiarnaiveté, and tells his ‘story’ to his company better than most men, who are not regular performers. In his line, he is a second Charles Dibdin, senr.—The above tavern,” continues Pierce Egan—“afforded considerable amusement to its visitors, as a few wags, fond of a bit of fun, frequented the coffee-room every evening, and, in concert together, represented themselves as managers from the country, in want of performers, and waiting in turn to engage young men fordifferent ‘lines of business,’ to complete their companies. This had the desired effect; and numerous ludicrous scenes was the result, which defy anything like communication, and enthusiastic, stage-struck, inexperienced youths afforded thesepretendedmanagers sport and roars of laughter, night after night. The plan generally adopted was, that one of the party kept on the look out to pick up a simple youth—having a soul above buttons!—and having got one in tow, he was formally introduced to the assumed proprietor of a country theatre. The latter person, with a face of gravity, then inquired whether he wished to engage for thelightorheavybusiness of the stage, or if singing was his forte; or, perhaps, he could undertake the general line, and assist in melo-dramas, spectacles, &c., &c. The manager then, with a polite request, wished to have a ‘taste’ of the young man’s quality, before he finally settled his engagement, and fixed his salary. And several young aspiring heroes, anxious to obtain an engagement, have been prevailed upon to mount the table, and to give selections from Romeo, Hamlet, and Octavian, &c., amidst the shouts ofpretendedapplause from country actors, wags of all sorts, and men of the world, who nightly resorted to this tavern, to pick up anecdotes, and spend a pleasant hour. When the managers! thought they had had enough of this burlesque, ‘theexit—theexit,’ would be whispered one to another, and while the hero on the table was spouting out some impassioned speech from Shakespeare, his back would be readily assailed with the contents of their jugs; and upon the unfortunate wight hastily looking round for the authors of such an assault, his front, from another part of the company, would be attacked in the same manner. Redress was out of the question, and the more passion and rage exhibited by the youth, produced the more laughter; when he was informed it was the way to teach him how to make his ‘exit’ in a rage! and that no person would deny him the title of being awetactor. It was Tom Hudson who altered the sign of the tavern to the Kean’s Head: a remarkable likeness of the great tragedian was hung over the fireplace, and he was wont to visit Tom and take a drink after the fatigue of the night’s performance. The mere rumour of this attracted many to the house. A capital harmonic meeting took place late at night—or rather early in the morning, which was supported by a mixture of professionals from the theatres, and amateurs of talent and celebrity. Vain endeavours were seldom entered upon at Tom Hudson’s; a pretender was soon coughed down. Amongst the leaders of the vocal department who contributed to the musical attractions were Morton Box; Jem Savern; Little Harris; Joe Wells, so popular afterwards in connection with the Coal Hole; Mr. John Hart, late of the Cider Cellars; Tom Prynn, Belasco, and others of great vocal talent and celebrity.Aproposof Edmund Kean, the late Mr. Leman Rede, author and dramatist, in his ‘Sketch of the Life of John Reeve,’ relates the following anecdote—‘Kean’s name was the ‘open sesame’ to all night houses near the theatres; and ere John Reeve came upon the stage, he was apt to indulge much in the ‘little hours.’ He and his friends, lads of his own age, could not have got admission, but he knew the secret, and acted accordingly. After giving a mystic knock, he applied his mouth to the keyhole, and with an exactitude of imitation that defied detection,exclaimed—‘’Tis I——Kean—Edmund Kean!’ In an instant the door was opened; in glided Reeve, saying, with an easy assurance, ‘Ned’s just gone round the corner—back in a moment.’”
Keep the Line.—To behave in a becoming manner: not to forget one’s self.
Keep it Up.—To prolong the debauch, or game. A term made popular by frequent reiteration.
Keep up the Ball.—Be jolly.Keep the ball rolling, is also used in the same sense.
Kick.—A sixpence.Quite the Kick, quite a dandy.
Kick the Bucket.—To die.
Kick over the Traces.—To become unmanagable.
Kicksies.—Small clothes, from the appetency of their contents, to the exercise of kicking, and from beingthe kick—the fashion.—Take my advice, never resist the law, if a man claims your coat and vestcoat, let him have ’em, or you’ll lose yourkicksiesin trying the argument. And if a man kicks you rub the place, but don’t go to law, that’s my advice.
Kid.—A knowing boy or man, in aloworflashpoint of view—a thief.