H.
Habeas Corpus.—Body and breeches.
Haberdasher.—Is the whistler, otherwise the spirit-merchant—and tape the commodity he deals in. It is a contrabrand article dispensed in Debtor’s Goals. White is Max, and red is Cognac.—“You see” says the Haberdasher, “smuggling does a lot of good, it does me good, and it does you good, and do’nt you see it does the Government!”
Hack.—A coach. See Jarvey.
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 with mummers, and spongers without end, ever ready to get Lush out of you, or make you a member of the City of Lushington! see Buffaloism.
Then off he went, quite full of glee,
Strutting towards the Harp,
In hopes some manager to see;
Mixing with Flat and Sharp!
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 no heel-taps! “that is,” said Bob Logic, “your glasses are to be drained to the bottom.”
Hell.—A gambling house, from the infernal practices 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 the Swell 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 been queered outright, by the vigilance and exertions of the beaks, whose orders to the traps upon the subject were so imperative, that taking tip to stash the matter, was quite out of the question; and some of the most distinguished Spirits that haunted these infernal abodes, were actually put under the discipline of Cubitt’s Machine to purify. But though the amateur of the broads may as he perambulates the suburbs of the Palace, see reason in many instances, to mourn for the desolation of his Zion, there are still enough of these places to make “a Hell upon earth” for thousands. All of these now remaining, are however eclipsed by the piscatory Hell, called Fishmongers’ Hall! so named, from Crockford, the keeper of it, having formerly been a Fishmonger, many persons remember Crockford, a poor, very poor Sprat 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 like dirt, which may account for so many of the visitors being cleaned out. It is a question whether any other Fishmonger’s shop, can boast of so numerous an assembly of flat 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 this Ude for a cook—who all cooks doth excell—
There’ll be nothing on earth like a dinner in “Hell!”
Hen and Chickens.—All my pretty chickens and their dam, St. James’.—The Missus and the blooming 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, yer vurship.”—“A what! a horse chaunter? Why what’s that?”—“Vy, yer vurship, ain’t you up to 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 ’ere chaunt?’ and he gives me a suvrin. Vell, that’s vat I call ’orse chaunting, yer vurship; there’s rale little ’arm in it; there’s a good many sorts on us; some chaunts canals, some chaunts railroads, some chaunts j’int stock companies, and ther’s a werry many other chaunts in 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 of spuming. French, espuma, froth. Latin, spuma.
Hummums.—The well-known hotel in Covent Garden. So called from an Eastern word, signifying baths. Rockley and the Co. is the Boss of the Show, and Tawny Port the order of the day. Bob Soutar—ultra—crepidam? and Joe Cave (at) actor? May for your dresses, and White for 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 dear Jerry,” said Tom, “Hyde Park is 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 the Prince may be seen dressed as plain as the most humble individual in the kingdom; the Tradesman more stylish in his apparel than his Lordship; and the Shopman with as fine clothes on his person as a Duke. The Countess not half so much ’bedizened’ over as her own Waiting-Maid; the Apprentice-Boy as sprucely set-off as a young sprig of Nobility; while the Milliner’s Lass in finery excels the Duchess. But the air of independence which each person seems to breathe renders the tout ensemble captivating.”
“Observe those prime bits of blood,” from the choicest studs in the kingdom, prancing about as proud as peacocks, and almost unmanageable to their dashing riders. The Goldfinches of 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 for displaying the most elegant “set-out.” The Man of Ton staring some modest female, that attracts his attention, completely out of countenance; while the Lady of Rank, equally delicate in her ideas of propriety, uses her glass upon the same object till her carriage removes her out of sight. The Debauchee, endeavouring to renovate or brace himself up with the fine air of the Park, ogling all the girls that cross his path. The Swell Dandy could not exist if he did not show himself in the Park on a Sunday. The Gambler on the look-out to see if any new pigeon appears in the circle, in order to plan future operations that may turn out to his advantage. The peep o’-day Woman of 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 to chit-chat and nod to her friends, in order to get rid of her yawnings, and to appear something like being awake at dinner-time. The Peer, 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 scheming Procuress sporting some new-caught lady-birds in a splendid carriage, in order to excite attention and to distribute her cards with more effect. The wealthy Cit, whose plum has rendered him sweet amongst 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 extravagant Fancy-Lady, making use of the thousand little arts that she is mistress of, trying to take the shine out of all the other females in the circle, merely to show the taste and liberality of her keeper. The flashy 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 his natty gig 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 of white-washing, will soon make him “all right again.”
It is equally interesting and attractive, from the numerous characters of both sexes, ogling each other, as they frequently come in contact. The Tailor confined 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 the Milliner, 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 the Great. 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 of Life in London, all jostling against each other in the Park with the utmost sang-froid. The Nobleman and the Yokel—the Divine and the “Family-man”—the Player and the Poet—the Impure and the Modest-girl—the Grave and the Gay—the Flash Cove and the Man of Sentiment—the Flat and the Sharp—the Dandy and the Gentleman—the out-and-out Swell and the Groom—the real Sportsman and the Black-Leg—the Heavy Toddlers and the Operators—the dashing Bum Trap and the Shy Cove—the Marchioness and her Cook—the Duke and the “Dealer in Queer,”—the Lady and her Scullion—the Pink of the Ton and his “Rainbow”—the Whitechapel Knight of the Cleaver and his fat Rib—the Barber’s Clerk and the Costard-Monger—the Slavey and her Master—the Surgeon and Resurrection Man—the ardent Lover to catch the smiling eye of his Mistress—the young Blood in 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 all afloat, but Gaiety of 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 getting jolly over port wine, roasted oranges and lemons.
Ivories.—The teeth: wash, or sluice your Ivories; drink.