B.
Babes in the Wood.—Persons confined in the stocks or pillory, said also of dice.
Babes of Grace.—Puritanical, sanctified-looking persons; also drunken psalm-smiting cobblers.
Back-slums.—Beggars’ meeting places; Dyot Street, St. Giles’; Kent Street, in the Borough, &c. The expression applies to all Metropolitan receptacles of mendicants, prostitutes, thieves, and rogues of every degree to get a night’s lodging. Back Slummers, dirty, common, low, and vagrant people who reside in the Back-slums.
Bag the Swag.—Pocket, or put into a bag, the plunder, or hide the stolen property.
Baked.—Done up, exhausted, tired out, “When I got to the top of the hill I was regularly—Baked!”—Soft-baked in also employed to persons who lack worldly wisdom.
Baker, Charles.—Comedian, died November 26, 1844.
Bang-up.—Quite right, the thing! the go! done complete, in handsome style, quite fashionable, at the top of the mode.
Bank.—A snug and secure place to deposit plunder; Bank the rag, to take care of money.
Barbers’ Clerks.—Shopmen, and poor ill-paid and half-starved apprentices, or conceited ignorant shop-boys.
Barking Irons.—Pistols, from the explosions being supposed to resemble the barking of a dog.
Baron Nab’em.—Otherwise Nicholas Borrowbody. The individual bearing this name who devotes his attentions to Logic, in his moments of retirement, is Mr. James Soares, more familiarly termed Jemmy Soares; well-known in the sporting world, particularly among the friends and supporters of the Ring, and long the President of the Daffy Club, a society held at Belcher’s, the Castle Tavern, Holborn. Events have occurred to prevent his occupying so prominent a place, as formerly, in the list of milling amateurs: but his open heartedness, his native humour, his liberal temper, and convivial disposition, will long be remembered with pleasure, by the numerous pals, who were wont to surround him.
Barrymore, W.—Comedian, died in America, November 24, 1846.
Baxter’s Hats.—A celebrated Topper-maker to the Fancy. Formerly in high repute with the amateurs, in respect to giving the knowledge-box an important look!
Beaks.—Justices, from their former cormorantish qualities—“Your vulture hath a devil of a beak!” But things are different. The Magistrates of the present day, that is the Metropolitan ones, are, with some few exceptions an honour to the Bench. Beaksmen, constables, or police officers.
Beat.—A watchman’s walk, the district in which he is licensed to beat at will all Her Majesty’s peaceable and loving subjects.
Beaver.—A hat; probably from generally possessing very little beaver. My last beaver turned out to be all silk, as Jack Bannister said, “The loss was felt”:—I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.—Shakespeare.
Beeswax.—Cheese, generally Gloucester, from the similarity between them—“Lets have a twopenny burster, half a quartern o’ beesvax, an ha’p’oth o’ ingens, and a dollop o’ salt along vith it, vill you?”—Dusty Bob.
Beggars.—Our street beggars have existed from time immemorial; their profession had become, in some measure, sanctioned by long tolerance. They were a merry, ingenious, persevering, and almost innoxious race. They are associated with our earliest recollections; like Springlove in Brome’s healthful and truly old English opera, “The Jovial Crew!” we at certain seasons feel almost a yearning to join them. Their wild free life, their careless revelry, present charms to us in retrospection, to which we are not wholly proof!—we think upon the “Beggar’s Bush” of those twin stars Beaumont and Fletcher. Classic recollections bring Belisarius with his “Date Obolum” to our mind. Bamfylde Moore Carew; Sir Simon Montford, The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green; King Cophueta, who loved the Beggar Maid, the valiant beggar who beat the redoubted Robin Hood to a standstill are among the most favourite heroes of our childhood. The race whose cause we are attempting to advocate, had at least the claim of destitution on our attention; as Lubin Log has it, our bounty was at all events “hobtional.” But what shall we say of the wealthy and the great, who have become beggars upon the public purse for the purpose of putting these their now persecuted rivals down? They have no claim, no excuse—away with them—shame on such monopoly!
Beggar’s Opera.—There were two public-houses in Church Lane, St. Giles’s; chiefly supported by beggars, one, called the Beggar’s Opera, which was the Rose and Crown, and the other the Robin Hood—at both of which Noah Ark Societies—that is “Motley-Crew Societies”—were held. The number that frequented these houses at various times, was computed to be from two to three hundred, and the receipts at a moderate calculation could not be less than from three to five shillings a day each person, frequently more.
Bellamy, William.—Bass Singer, died January 3, 1843, aged 74.
Belch.—All sorts of malt liquor, beer and porter being apt to cause uncomfortable eructations:—The bitterness of it I now belch forth from my heart.—Shakespeare.
Belcher.—A large red neckerchief spotted with yellow and black, and first worn by Jem Belcher the famous pugilist, 1781-1811. “The Kiddy flashes his Belcher.” Tom Belcher’s colour was yellow, with white and black spots.
Bell’s Life in London.—And Sporting Chronicle, a rich Repository of Fashion, Wit, and Humour, and the interesting Incidents of Real Life:—Was founded March 3, 1822, by Mr. John Bell, one of the most spirited publishers of his time, and the printer and proprietor of “Bell’s Edition of Plays,”—“Bell’s Edition of the Poets,”—“Bell’s Weekly Messenger,” &c., &c. Mr. Vincent Dowling, was first installed Editor August, 1824. On Sunday, November 4, 1827, it was publicly announced that—“Pierce Egan’s Life in London and Sporting Guide” is this day incorporated with “Bell’s Life in London.” All communications for the Editor, therefore, are requested to be transmitted, in future, to the Office, No. 169, Strand.... Let it not be forgotten, that “Bell’s Life in London,” is the largest, and best, and the cheapest, Sporting Journal in the Kingdom. “Compare and Judge.” ☞ “The Price is but Sevenpence.”—“Mr. Vincent Dowling, the Editor, was well known in the Sporting World and in him the Fancy found a sincere friend. He is a most excellent companion; cheerful, witty, and satirical at all times, but, in the latter display of his talents, the feather appears more than the razor—he tickles his adversaries, rather than wounds their feelings”—Pierce Egan.—A service of plate value 100 gs. was presented to Mr. Vincent Dowling, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, July 18, 1833.
Beef.—To cry Beef is to give the alarm.—“A mot in the regency below, bolted out into the hairy and cried beef on us; just as ve had sacked the swag; so Tim Snooks who vos vide awake in the rum pad in front; giv’d as the office to scarper! and ve cut like blazes! Squinting Bill piked through the glaze, and vos out of sight in less than no time, and I got over the balcony, and slides down the vater shoot, and makes good my hexit, but leaving all the tools and the swag behind in the old coveys snoozing-ken.”
Beer and Britannia.—What two ideas are more inseparable than Beer and Britannia? What event more awfully important to an English colony than the erection of its first brewhouse!:—
Beer! Boys, Beer! all over town and country,
Beer! Boys, Beer! with pewter pot in hand;
Beer! Boys, Beer! for all who don’t mind labour,
Beer! Boys, Beer! who a gallon’s going to stand.
Big ones.—Men of consequence: such as Tom Cribb,—The Duke of Wellington,—John Jackson,—The Lord Chancellor,—John Gully,—The Chancellor of the Exchequer,—Tom Spring,—The Master of the Rolls, &c.
Big Wigs.—Judges, &c.,:—“The wisdom’s in the wig.” If you doubt it, play the part of Paul Pry for half-an-hour in any of the Courts of Law, or ask the Vice-Chancellor. You’ll soon be convinced.
Bilk the Schoolmaster.—Not to stand your regulars, i.e., not to pay for being let into the secret.
Billing and Cooing.—Courting; the two sexes humbugging one another—faking the sweetner, kissing, &c.:—What billing again?—Shakespeare.
Bill of Sale.—A widow’s weeds.
Billy.—The cant term for a silk pocket handkerchief.
Billy Buzman.—A class of pickpockets who confine their attention exclusively to silk pocket handkerchiefs. In thieving as in other professions and arts of life in this highly civilized age, “Division of Labour,” as political economists term it, is particularly attended to in the London School of gonnofs, not only for the sake of convenience, but from the well-known principle that “Practice makes perfect.” Accordingly, it would be considered as untradesman-like for a Billy Buzman to go out of his own line of business, as for an ironmonger to sell treacle, or a silk mercer to deal in or sell neat’s foot oil.
Bird-cage.—Small country watch-houses, or gaols. Come, let’s away to prison; we two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:—Shakespeare.
Birds of Prey.—Lawyers.—The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.—Jack Cade.
Bit.—Taken in, one half the world bite the other. Also money of any kind or quantity. Queer-bit, bad money. Rum-bit, good money. “He grabbed the Cull’s-bit.” He seized the man’s money.
Bit of Cavalry.—A horse.—An two men ride a horse, one must ride behind.
Bit of good Truth.—The plain facts.—Facts are stubborn things.
Bit of Muslin.—A sweetheart.—Love me little, love me long.
Biting one’s name in it.—Taking a good draught out of a pot of heavy wet.
Black Beetles.—The Lower orders—the rabble (Canaille).
Black Diamonds.—Coals. Black diamonds Lords, owners of coal mines. Black diamond merchant, a coal merchant. Black diamond polisher, a coalheaver.
Black Miller.—The—The brave and somewhat ill used Molineux. The Black pugilist who was twice beaten by Tom Cribb, 1810-11.
Black Sharks.—Attorneys and Lawyers.—Arcades ambo!
Black Strap.—Port wine. “What will you lay it is a lie!”
Blade.—A man: who may be a brother blade as a butcher, a knowing blade, if a sharp fellow, wide awake and cunning.
Blinker.—A one-eyed horse.
Bloods, Bucks, and Choice Spirits.—Tria juncta in uno—A riotous disorderly set of young men who imagine that their noise, bluster, warwhoop, and impertinence impress those who come in contact with them with the opinion that they are men of spirit and fashion. The nocturnal exploits of the true high-mettled, and fast-going Blood: consists of throwing a waiter out of a tavern window lumpus! pinking a sedan-chairman, or a jarvey, who is so uncivil as to demand his fare, milling and boxing-up the charlies, kicking-up rows at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, driving stage coaches, getting up prize fights, breaking shop windows with penny pieces thrown from a Hackney coach, bilking a turnpike-man, and at other times painting-out in a very opposite colour his “List of Tolls payable,” Funking a cobbler, smoking cigars at divans and club-houses, fleecing each other in the Hells around Jermyn Street, drinking champagne at Charley Wright’s in the Haymarket, claret and brandy at Offley’s, and “early pearl” and dogsnose at the Coal Hole, wearing large whiskers, and false noses and moustachios, exchanging blackguard baninage with women of the town in and about Covent Garden, the Haymarket, and Piccadilly—“Dem’ee that’s yer sort!—Keep it up—keep it up!”
Blown.—Exposed, informed against.
Blow a Cloud.—Smoke a pipe. Cock a Broseley.
Blue Blazes.—Spirituous liquors in general, Gin in particular.
Blue Ruin.—Gin, called blue from its tint, and ruin from its effects. In the words of Otway most gin drinkers are “in love and pleased with ruin!”
Blunt.—Cash, or money of any value, or in any quantity. Lots of blunt, plenty of money—“Thou dear delightful evil.”
Bob, or Bobstick.—A shilling.
Bobbish.—Smart, active, clever.
Bodkin.—William Bodkin, Esq., or as he was familiarly termed Billy Bodkin, was originally a painstaking Broker and Auctioneer at Islington, he was the first Hon. Sec. to the Mendicity Society, which office it was said he found more lucrative. So neglected knocking down, for the sake of taking-up, giving the vagrants their quietus “With a bare Bodkin.”—For further particulars about this sharp Bodkin see Billy Waters.
Bolt.—Throat, Sluice your bolt—Drink.
Bone-setter.—A hackney-coach, also a hard trotting horse.
Booked.—The time fixed when a thief is ripe for the gallows, or when any one is likely to die from some mortal disease. “He’s booked for a ride in a Government omnibus, i.e., prison van.” “You are booked for a ride to Gravesend.” Secured, bespoke, in for it, dished!
Booze.—Liquor, “To drink.” “Rum booze,” good drink.
Boozey.—Drunk. Man being reasonable must get drunk.—Byron.
Boozing-ken.—An alehouse, or tavern.
Bosh.—A fiddle. To fake a bosh, to play the fiddle; Boshmen, fiddlers, or musicians in general.
Bought.—I have bought that and no mistake, i.e., paid too much for it. Bought and sold: taken in and done for.—It would make a man as mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.—Shakespeare.
Bouncing Chit.—A bottle, from the explosion in drawing the cork.
Boxed.—Locked up.—Cabin’d, cribb’d, and confined.
Boxing a Charley.—Upsetting a watchman in his box.
Box of Dominoes or Ivories.—The mouth, containing the teeth.
Box of Minutes.—A watch.—Watches you know, were made to go.
Brads.—Half-pence, also money in general.—Shell out the brads Jack.
Brass.—Money, also impudence,—“A man who carries plenty of brass in his face will never lack gold in his pocket.”
Bread Basket.—The stomach.
Breaking up of the Spell.—The breaking up of a party of long sitting: the nightly termination of performance at the theatres, which is regularly attended by pickpockets, who exercise their vocation about the doors and avenues leading thereto.
Broads-Cards, Swell Broad-Coves.—Elegantly dressed card-players; also possessing a good address with other requisites befitting them to keep company with gentlemen.
Broad Fencers.—The Cads and fellows who hawk Lists, or k’rect cards, at races,—Pierce Egan, in an account of—“The gallant and spirited Race at Knavesmire in Yorkshire, for 500 gs. and 1000 gs. bye—4 miles. Between the late Colonel Thornton’s Lady and Mr. Flint,” and reported by him in “Book of Sport,” thus graphically describes the Broad Fencer of the period:—“The Cads, and fellows with the Race Lists, were thus hawking their bills and cards over the race ground to obtain purchasers. Come my worthy sporting gentlemen from all parts of the kingdom—now’s your time to open your eyes and look about you, when you will see to-day what you never saw before in your life, and, perhaps, you may never see again, if you live as long as Old Methuselah. Come, I say, who’s for a list—the whole list, and nothing else but a true list—besides, you will have a correct and particlar account of the terrible, terrible, terrible high-bred female—the good-lady of Colonel Thornton; there is nothing like her in the universal world. Old Astley’s troupe are mere patches upon her managing a horse, she will this day ride a match like a lady, over the four mile course for 500 guineas, and 1000 guineas bye; and some hundreds of thousands are likewise depending upon this most extraordinary match between the “Jockey in Petticoats” against the well-known sporting character Mr. Flint, in his “doe skins and top boots;” and looked upon as one of the best gentlemen riders in the nation. You have also the names of the horses, and the colours of the riders, with every other particular that can enlighten your minds, and make you gentlemen sportsmen acquainted with this lively race. You have now the opportunity to lay out your money according to your inclination. The gentleman allows the lady to ride what weight she likes, there being a mutual understanding between them upon the subject; therefore, she will not, like commoners go “to scale” as she will not be handled by any body before she starts for the prize; indeed, the Female Jockey is not considered any weight at all. Her importance and self-possession are the only objects for consideration. What does spirit, fire, blood, and gaiety weigh, I should like to ask? I answer nothing,—my masters! Such high bred qualities are as light as air—brisk as the wind—and 2 to 1 towards winning. You have also at the same price, the plain and simple pedigree of the female Jockey. Her “sire” was a capital “good un;” her dam, a prime fleet “un,” an Eclipse in character; her brother, all that could be wished upon the turf, for getting over the ground like a sky rocket, her sister, a Nonpareil at all points, and above any price, but her owner, her out-and-out owner, the Colonel from his “upper crust” down to his “walker,” is a match for all England against any thing—for every thing alive—either on the turf or turnpike,—from a mouse to an elephant: and nothing else but winning belongs to his stable. And lastly, though not the least in the above Catalogue of Excellence,—every point of the Female Jockey is tip-top, her agility is captivating; and she mounts her prad like the most accomplished horseman in the world. Her movements defy expression; her nods to the females, as she rides over the Course, delightful! but her smiles to the applauding gentlemen, in answer to the winks, bows, and other marks of politeness towards her, as compliments for her daring exploits, are fascinating, elegant, and nothing else but winning. She is seated upon her high-bred animal with all the firmness of a Nimrod; she holds her reins with the most perfect ease and style; and Chifney, in the best of his days, never displayed a better knowledge of horsemanship than the Female Jockey, and she flourishes her whip with all the good taste of the leader of a band at a concert. In fact, she is a Nonesuch! a Paragon!! a PHENOMENON!!! Her prad too, Old Vingarillo, is also a picture of goodness, from his peepers down to his fetlocks! Therefore, my worthy sportsmen, do not lose this opportunity—be not too late—but purchase this great curiosity—this List of lists—nothing like it having occurred in Yorkshire, or, in any other part of the globe since Noah’s flood—either before or since the wet season of the year; and it is York Minster to a brass farden that nothing like it can occur again till we have a new generation of the human race? That’s a fact!!!”
Buckingham, Thomas.—Comedian and Comic-singer, died September 2, 1847, aged 52.
Buffers.—Dogs. Buff-napper, a dog stealer.
Broom.—To brush, to run away.
Browns.—Half-pence and pence—“Got any browns, Jem, for a drop o’ Max? No, Bill, not never a von left; s’elp me criky.”
Buffs—Buffaloes—and Buffaloism.—A society held at the Harp Tavern in Great Russell Street, opposite Drury Lane Theatre, and was first established in August, 1822, by an eccentric young man of the name of Joseph Lisle, an artist, in conjunction with Mr. W. Sinnett, a comedian, to perpetuate, according to their ideas upon the subject, of that hitherto neglected ballad of “We’ll chase the Buffalo!” The society is composed of numerous Performers, and other “comical wights” resident in the metropolis. The ceremony of making a Buffalo is very simple, yet extremely ludicrous, and productive of great laughter. At first the person intended to become a Buffalo, is seated on a chair in the middle of the room, with a bandage placed over his eyes. The initiated Buffaloes are waiting outside of the door: the orator being decorated with a wig, &c., for the occasion. On a given signal, they all enter the room, with what they term the Kangaroo Leap, and jump round the chair of the “Degraded wretch,”—as the victim is termed. This is succeeded by a solemn march, and the following chaunt; the Buffaloes carrying brooms, shovels, mops, and a large kettle by way of a kettledrum:—
Bloody-head and raw-bones!
Bloody-head and raw-bones!
Be not perplexed,
This is the text.
Bloody-head and raw-bones!
The CHARGE is then given to the “victim” by the Primo Buffo, accompanied by the most extravagant and ridiculous gestures:—
“DEGRADED WRETCH!—Miserable Ashantee!!—Unfortunate individual!!!—At least you were so, not a quarter of an hour since. You are now entitled to divers privileges: you may masticate, denticate, chump, grind, swallow, and devour, in all turnip fields, meadows, and pastures; and moreover, you have the especial privilege of grazing in Hyde Park;—Think of that my Buffalo! You may also drink at all the lakes, rivers, canals, and ponds; not forgetting the Fleet and lower ditches. You are entitled to partake of all public dinners,—upon your paying for the same—such are a few of the advantages you will enjoy! but you must promise to gore and toss all enemies to Buffaloism! You must likewise promise to patronise the Horns, at Kennington; and occasionally visit Horn-sey Wood, where you may do what you like best—rusticate, cogitate, or illustrate, and prove yourself an Horn-ament by respecting the natives of the island of Goree-he!”
The bandage is then removed from the eyes—and the chorus of “Chase the Buffalo,” is repeated. The victim is then led into the passage, and the signs, &c., are given to him, after which he is ushered into the room with the full chorus of:—
See! the conquering hero comes,
Sound the trumpet, beat the drums,
Sports prepare, the laurels bring,
Songs of triumph to him sing.
He is then called on for the accustomary fees for liquor, and a small compliment for the Buffalo in waiting: the expenses are in proportion to the means, or inclination of the newly-made member. The liquor is introduced by the chorus altered from the Pirates:—
“We Buffaloes lead a jolly, jolly life, Fal de, &c., &c.”
A blessing is then given by the Primo Buffo, reminding the new member that the greatest characters in the country have solicited to become Buffaloes, and the following is sung in solemn style.
Harponians list unto me,
And Kangaroos rejoice!
And Buffaloes lift up your horns,
Whilst I lift up my voice.
Oh! Joseph Lisle a painter is,
And a Buffalo besides:
So sit not in the scorner’s chair,
Nor Buffaloes deride.
Now Buffaloes join in a roar,
Be heard from pole to pole;
My solemn chaunt is at an end,
Because you’ve heard the whole!
Bull.—A crown. Half a bull, half a crown.
Bunch of Dog’s meat.—A squalling child in arms.
Bunch of Fives.—A slang term for the hand or fist.
Bunch of Onions.—A watch chain and seals.
Bunch of Turnips.—Itinerant fruit vendors, &c.
Bunter.—A low loose woman.—“Neither maid, wife, nor widow.”
Burlington Arcade, The—Piccadilly, London, opened 20th March, 1814.
Burster.—A small loaf. A burster and beeswax, 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 an Academy for the education and perfection of pickpockets and cut-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 judicial napper!
C
Cabbage.—Cloth, stuff, or silk, purloined by tailors and sempstresses, who are for ever, snip! snip!! snipping!!! Cuttings that serve for trimmings to 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 his calves have 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 the Fancy in 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 Flasham.—A blustering, bounceable fellow.
Captain Queernabs.—A shabby ill-dressed fellow.
Carcase Lords.—Wholesale butchers who monopolise and forstall the markets.—“For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together.”
Card.—A man, who may be a knowing, a downy, cunning, shifting, queer, or any other sort of Card according 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-known Bob Gregson; but designated at that period under the familiar title of Bob’s Chop House:—
His house is known to all the milling train;
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-conducted Tom 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’s opening dinner was completely successful, and the Fancy rallied 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, were points in themselves of great attractions in the Sporting World; and the above Tavern again became one of the most favourite resorts of the Fancy in 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” with Bank! 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 most fastidious visitor. If the ears cannot at all times be gratified with the various topics of argument brought forward; the eyes have 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 the Exhibition, 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 the Fight” 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 every tub may 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 a castor, to steal a hat.
Cast-your-Skin.—To pull off your clothes.
Champagne.—Charles Wright, of the Haymarket, London, and elsewhere, is the purveyor par excellence! of this sparkling and spirit-stirring nectar, which being good in quality and moderate in price he is patronized by all the knowing kiddies in 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.—Figg 1719.—George Taylor 1734.—Jack Broughton 1740.—Jack Slack 1750.—Jem Stephens 1760.—George Meggs 1761.—Bill Darts 1764.—Tom Lyons 1769.—Harry Sellers 1777.—Johnson 1785.—Ben Ryan 1790.—Mendoza 1792.—John Jackson (retired) 1795.—Jem Belcher 1803.—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 with Tom Paddock, claimed the office, as Bendigo declined fighting again) 1850.—Harry Broome (beat Perry, and succeeded 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 birds chaunt melody on every bush.
Chaunter.—A puffer, or hired bidder at a sale. See Horse 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 a cherry-coloured cat, there being black as well as red cherries.
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 as crocus 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 by ultra civility.
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, or clenched the 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, or Free-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, and brush when it suits. But all sorts of lush must be tipped for on delivery. “Poor Trust” being dead and buried.—“To keep the game alive,” Logic said to Tom and Jerry, “you shall now accompany me to what is termed a Cock and Hen Club. Where you may say and do as you like, the crib is situated in an obscure part of the town, but I know it well.” * * * On entering the club-room Jerry was struck with astonishment at the surrounding group. “It is nothing new to me,” replied Logic, “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, the Lady Patroness of this meeting. The chairman in petticoats.”
“They are both out-and-outers,” answered the waiter, “and nothing like them on earth to keep such an unruly company together, as ‘Any-thing Tommy’ and ‘Half-quartern Luce!’ The chairman Tommy, has been, by turns, a costard-monger, a coal-whipper, a flying dustman, a boner of stiff-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 empty Victualling-Office. He can throw off a flash chaunt in the first style; and patter slang, 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 the Bull in the Pound;
’Tis there you’ll see Poll, Bet, and Sal, with many other Flames,
And “pitch and hustle,” “ring the bull,” and lots of Fancy games.
“As to Half-quartern Luce,” 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 of blue ruin she derives her name. Luce was 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,” said Jerry to Logic, “but this is equal to any, if it does not beggar the 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. See Horse Chaunter.
Core.—The heart.—In my heart’s core.—Horatio.
Cooped up.—Confined in the Poultry 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 the habituès to 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, he takes a chalk by rubbing one out.
Chalk Farm.—A well-known tavern and tea-garden, near Primrose-hill, alias Cockney-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 use double 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. Hence Jemmy Green says—“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 usually chalk up the 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 a Corinthian, a lad of mettle.—Shakespeare.
Corinthian Kate—and her friend Sue.—In the original Life in London these ladies were meant as sketches in water colours of the notorious Mrs. Maples, alias Mrs. Bertram, alias Mother Bang; and the no less notorious Harriett Wilson, alias Mrs. Colonel Rochfort; heroines whose “birth, parentage, and education—life, character, and behaviour,” have been made execrable by that congenial pair of publishers in infamy Messrs. Stockdale and Duncombe:—The characters of Kate and Sue are in rather different keeping in 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 see Bet Bouucer of 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, covess feminine of cove. 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. The Go! All the crack! First-rate, as a crack 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; a crack-fencer, one who sells nuts; a crack 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; to crack a whid or wheeze, to make a joke, jokes or witticism; a crack-whip, a good coachman.
Crib.—A house, or an apartment.
Cribb’s Crib.—A slang alliteration for Tom Cribb’s house, the Union 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 to being on the ◻, as implying honesty. A cross-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, “The Finish to the Adventures of Tom, Jerry, and Logic, in their pursuits through Life in 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 a dab on the cheek.
Daffy.—Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin! Pierce Egan says in his “Book of Sports and Mirror of Life.”—“During the time Tom Belcher was the landlord of the Castle Tavern, Holborn, the Daffy Club was started by Mr. James Soares”—See Baron Nab’em.—“The above club is a complete antidote to the Blue Devils, and has to boast of greater advantages than any other Society in the Metropolis, from its members being always in Spirits! 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 only definition I can give to the term “Daffy” is that the phrase was coined at the Mint of Fancy, and has since passed current without being overhauled as queer. The squeamish Fair One who takes the Daffy regularly on the sly merely to cure the vapours, politely names it to her friends as “White Wine.” The Swell chaffs it as “Blue Ruin” to elevate his notions. The Laundress loves dearly a drain of “Ould Tom,” from its strength to comfort her inside. The drag Fiddler can toss off a quartern of “Max” without making a wry mug. The Coster Monger illumines his ideas with “a flash of lightning.” The hoarse Cyprian owes her existence to copious draughts of “Jacky.” The Link Boy and Mud Larks, in joining their browns together, are for some “Stark Naked.” And the Out and Outers, from the addition of bitters to it in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damaged Victualling 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 the listener—to have denominated the Sporting Society the “GIN CLUB,” would not only have proved barbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of the chaunt might have deprived it of many of its elegant friends. It is a subject, however, which must be admitted has a good deal of Taste belonging to it—and as a Sporting Man would be nothing if he was not flash, 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. reigned with thunder and lightning speed. Pierce Egan published the birth, parentage, and education of the Dandy thus: The Dandy was got by Vanity out of Affectation—his dam, Petit-Maître or Maccaroni—his grand-dam, Fribble—great-grand-dam, Bronze—his great-great-great-grand-dam, Coxcomb—and his earliest ancestor, Fop. His uncle Impudence—his three brothers Trick, Humbug, and Fudge! and allied to the extensive family of the Shuffletons. Indeed, this Bandbox sort of creature took so much the lead in the walks of fashion, that the Buck was totally missing; the Blood vanished; the Tippy not to be found, the Go out of date; the Dash not to be met with; and the Bang-up without a leader, at fault, and in the back-ground. It was only the Corinthian that remained triumphant—his excellence was of such a genuine quality that all imitation was left at an immeasurable distance.
Dandiprat.—An insignificent or trifling fellow.
Dandy-cock.—A little dandy man, 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. His evergreen! Ballad Opera, The Waterman; or, The First of August, was first performed at the Haymarket Theatre, 1774, thus cast:—
| Tom Tug | Mr. Bannister. | |
| Bundle | Mr. Wilson. | |
| Robin | Mr. Weston. | |
| Mrs. Bundle | Mrs. Thompson. | |
| Wilhelmina | Mrs. Jewell. |
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. Vide Almack’s.
Dog Billy.—The—This celebrated Hero of the canine race to the great joy of the rats, lost his wind on Monday, February 23, 1829, in Panton Street, Haymarket. The body-snatchers and dog-priggers are out-done upon this suit, and the remains of Billy, instead of being obscured in clay, are preserved in an elegant glass case and gilt frame. The Ex-Champion, Tom Cribb, who liked Billy when alive, still likes him although told out. Billy was the property of Charley Aistrop when he last barked out 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 no successor to give them a nip.
Monody on the above Rat Killer.
Not a bark was heard—but a mournful whine
Broke in cadence slow from the race canine;
And the prick’d-up ear, and wagging tail,
Were drooping low ’mid the general wail.
*******
*******
Not a bark was heard—but a lively squeak
Was echoed from rat to rat (a whole week),
From Whitechapel Church to Piccadilly,
Of “Long life to grim Death—for boning Billy!”
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 be down. To understand, to be fly.
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 the dummies is a very numerous one.
Dust.—Money. Down with the dust, to spend money.
Dust-Hole.—The nose, otherwise Snuff-receiver!
Dustman.—Sleep, or drowsiness.
Dustypoll.—A nickname for a miller.