A Dictionary of Slang and its Analogues. (continued 2)

All jaw. All jaw like a sheep’s head, adv. phr. (common).—Said of one who is a great talker; or, who has the gift of the gab.

1876. C. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 41. ‘Look at the man! hear him; why, he’s all jaw like a sheep’s head. He was drummed out of the regiment he was in for eating his comrades’ knapsacks.’

A synonym is all mouth.—See Jaw.

All Lombard Street to a China Orange, phr. (old); sometimes all Lombard Street to ninepence.—One of many fanciful forms of betting once current among the sporting fraternity; others were ‘Chelsea College to a sentry box,’ ‘Pompey’s Pillar to a stick of sealing wax,’ etc.

1819. Thomas Moore, Tom Cribb’s Memorial to Congress, p. 38.

A pause ensued—’till crie of ‘Gregson,’

Brought Bob, the poet, on his legs soon,—

My eyes, how prettily Bob writes!

Talk of your camels, hogs and crabs,

And twenty more such Pidcock frights—

Bob’s worth a hundred of these dabs,

All Lombard Street to ninepence on it.

All Moonshine, adverbial phr. (popular).—Moonshine is in old-fashioned and provincial English ‘an illusive shadow,’ ‘a mere pretence’ [Halliwell]. The expression it is all moonshine is now variously applied, whether as referring to empty professions, to vain boasts, to promises not trustworthy, to questionable statements, or to any kind of extravagant talk. There exist in several languages so many words of lunar connection, all implying variableness or inconstancy, that possibly this phrase also, it is all moonshine, may have been primarily employed to express some degree of fickleness, or caprice; in allusion to the inconstancy or changeableness of the moon, or rather moonlight. When anyone professes or promises great things, which we do not expect to see realized, we say it is all moonshine, for moonshine is very shifty; one week we have it, another we have it not; nay, it shifts from night to night. ‘Lunes’ in old English, are not only fits of insanity, but freaks. And the term ‘lunatic’ itself did not properly signify a person always insane, but one who was mad at intervals, dependent as was supposed on the phases of the moon. This distinction is still very accurately maintained in Spanish philology: ‘Lunatics, El loco, cuya demencia no est continua, sino por intervalos que proceden del estado en que se halla la Luna.’ Hence also in French, modern and old: ‘Il a des lunes,’ he is whimsical or fantastic. ‘Tenir de la lune,’ to be inconstant, mutable; ‘Avoir un quartier de la lune, en la teste,’ or ‘Il y a de la lune,’ he is changeable, giddy, capricious. In the ‘language of symbols’ the moon is the emblem of hypocrisy, as in the following device:

‘La lune avec ces mots,

Mentiri didicit.

(Elle trompe toujours.)

Pour l’hypocrisie, dont la lune est le symbole.’ Menestriar, Philosophie des Images, vol. I., p. 266.

Another emblem is the following:

‘La lune,

Non vultus non color unus,

Pour une personne qui n’est pas sincère.’

Ibid, I., p. 269.

Moonshine, in conformity with these ideas, was probably employed originally in characterising the talk of persons too mutable to be relied on from one time to another.—Notes and Queries.

1714. Spectator, No. 597. Several of my correspondents have been pleased to send me an account how they have been employed in sleep, and what notable adventure they have been engaged in during that moonshine in the brain.

1874. Mrs. H. Wood, Johnny Ludlow, 1 S., No. xxii., p. 397. ‘They are all pig-headed together … they are blinded by specious arguments that will turn out, I fear, to be all moonshine.’

All Mouth, adv. (common).—Applied to a loquacious talker. Cf., All jaw.

All My Eye, adv. phr. (common).—Variations in form are: all my eye and Betty Martin—my elbow—Tommy—and my grandmother. All nonsense; rubbish. The suggested derivations of this significant retort to a tedious narration containing neither rhyme nor reason are as various as the forms in which the phrase appears. Not so clear, however, is the evidence in support of any of them, although Barrère unwittingly stumbles upon what is probably the true origin. Had he studied the subject of slang historically, he would have been able to adduce adequate proof for what he merely puts forth as a ‘more probable’ derivation than those of his predecessors. After stating that some have suggested the origin of the phrase in the Welsh, al mi hivy, it is very tedious or all nonsense, he says, ‘It seems far more probable that it is a contraction of the phrase ‘there is as much of it as there is in all my eye,’ the words being made more forcible by closing one of the organs of vision. To express dissent from any statement, or a refusal to comply with a request. French slang has the corresponding term mon œil! which is usually accompanied by a knowing wink and a significant gesture as an invitation to inspect the organ.’ From a comparative study of the dates and examples which follow, it seems a fair deduction to assume that the original form of the phrase was simply all my eye, and that the additional tags given above are later importations.

1653. Archbishop Bramhall, Answer to the Epistle of M. de la Milletière [Works, vol. I., pp. 68–9. ed. Ox. 1842.] Fifthly, suppose (all this notwithstanding) such a conference should hold, what reason have you to promise to yourself such success as to obtain so easy a victory? You have had conferences and conferences again at Poissy and other places, and gained by them just as much as you might put in your eye and see never the worse.

1682. Preface to Julian the Apostate (London, printed for Langley Curtis). What benefit a Popish successor can reap from lives and fortunes spent in defence of the Protestant religion he may put in his eye; and what the Protestant religion gets by lives and fortunes spent in the service of a Popish successor will be over the left shoulder.

1768. Goldsmith, Good-natured Man, Act iii. Bailiff. That’s all my eye. The king only can pardon.

1811. Poole, Hamlet Travestied, i, 1. As for black clothes,—that’s all my eye and Tommy.

Hotten’s contention, that all my eye and Betty Martin was a vulgar phrase constructed from the commencement of a Roman Catholic prayer to St. Martin (the patron saint of drunkards), ‘Oh, mihi, beate Martine,’ which in common with many another fell into discredit and ridicule after the Reformation, is both fanciful and untrue. In the first place there is no prayer in the Breviary which answers to the description given; and in the second it has been shown that the essential part of the phrase is very much older than the Joe Millerism which first set the copy for every lexicographer of the ‘unwritten word,’ from Hotten down to Brewer and Barrère, the latter of whom, strangely enough, after pitching on the right track, stultifies himself by an admission that all my eye and Betty Martin seems to have been the original phrase. The earliest example of the ‘Betty Martin’ form, found after long search, occurs in Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress, published in 1819, where it appears simply as all my eye, Betty, but that the phrase was known long previously is proved by the extract from Poole quoted above.

Among English Synonyms of refusal or incredulity, are: Cock and bull story; a wild-goose chase; a mare’s nest; fiddle-de-dee; do you see any green in my eye? that’s a flam; over the left; go teach your grannie to suck eggs; Walker! you be blowed! You be hanged! Not for Joe! How’s your brother, Job? Don’t you wish you may get it? Yes, in a horn (American); That’s all round my hat.

Fr. Des fadeurs (lit. insipidity); C’est des vannes? (lit. floodgates or sluices); des nèfles (lit. medlars); des navets! (turnips); de l’anis! (lit. aniseed); du flan! (lit. custard); tu t’en ferais mourir! (lit. you will die after it); mon œil! (my eye); flûte! Zut! (go to the deuce!); et ta sœur? (phrase of the ‘who’s your hatter’ stamp); des plis! (don’t you wish you may get it); la peau! (blow it all!); de la mousse! (expression of ironical refusal); du vent! (go to pot!); des emblèmes!; des fouilles!; on t’en fricasse!

All Nations, subs. (old).—1. A mixture of the drainings of all kinds of spirits and malt liquors; it is of an extremely intoxicating character. Sometimes called alls, or all sorts.

2. A parti-colored dress or coat; a Joseph’s garment. Also one that is patched.

All-Night-Man, subs. (old).—A body snatcher. Now obsolete.

1861. Ramsay, Remin, ser. ii., 133. The body lifters, or all-night-men, as they were wont to be called.

All of a Heap.—See Heap.

All of a Hough, adv. phr. (tailors’).—Said of an unskilled workman. Equivalent to clumsy; bungling; unworkmanlike. Hotten quotes this as a Suffolk phrase (hough being spelt hugh, and pronounced with a grunt). Synonymous with ‘all on one side’; falling with a thump.

All of my Lone, adv. phr. (American).—A negro vulgarism for ‘alone.’

All on the Go (vulgarism).—See Go.

All Out, adv. phr. (vulgar).—1. Entirely; completely; by far, as in ‘all out the best.’ This vulgarism must now be classed among depraved words; but as far as written English is concerned, it can be traced back to the year 1300. It seems to have fallen out of use about the middle of the seventeenth century.

1830. Carleton, Traits and Stories, vol. II., p. 102. ‘He’s now in his grave, and, thank God, it’s he that had the dacent funeral all out.’

2. Another old English expression, now obsolete, is to drink all out, to empty a bumper; and hence,—

3. Used substantively, e.g., an all out being equivalent to what ’Arry would call now-a-days a big drunk. The connection between the ancient and modern usage is clear.

4. To be all out also signifies to be in error; quite wrong.

5. (turf).—A man is said to be all out when unsuccessful during the whole of a day’s racing.

6. (Stock Exchange).—See All in.

7. (athletic).—Exhausted; said of a man or crew who, having exerted him or themselves to the utmost, can do no more.

1886. Graphic, April 10, p. 392. Pitman the Cambridge stroke, after passing the ‘Queen’s Head,’ Mortlake, put on a grand spurt, to which his crew fairly responded, though pretty well all out.

All-Overish, adj. (colloquial). An indefinite feeling which pervades the body at critical periods, when sickening for an illness, or at a moment of supreme excitement, as when about to ‘pop the question’ which, says Hotten, ‘is sometimes called feeling all over alike, and touching nowhere.’ Synonyms are ‘to feel all round one’s hat,’ and ‘chippy.’

1851. H. Mayhew, London Lab. and Lon. Poor, vol. III., p. 52. ‘When the mob began to gather round, I felt all-overish.’

All-Overishness, subs. (colloquial).—The state of being all-overish.—See foregoing.

1854. Ainsworth, Flitch of Bacon, pt. II., ch. v. ‘I feel a sort of shivering and all-overishness.’

1841. John Mills, Old English Gentleman, ch. xxiv., p. 186 (3 ed.). ‘Isn’t it natural for a body to feel a sort of a queer all-overishness on the eve of a wedding, I should like to know?’

All over Pattern, subs. phr. (common). Used in describing patterns that are intricate, or designs in which the pattern is not of a set character.

1881. F. E. Hulme. Suggestions in Floral Design. A term [all over pattern] used to denote a design in which the whole of a field is covered with ornament in contradistinction to such as have units only at intervals, leaving spaces of the ground between them. The ornament of the Moors as seen in the decorations of the Alhambra, and that of Eastern nations generally, is most commonly of this nature; the whole surface of the object is covered with decorative forms so as to present to the eye a mass of elaborate detail, the leading lines of which can often only be detected by careful scrutiny. When, as in some Persian surfaces, these lines are often quite lost, the result is unsatisfactory.

All Over the Shop, adv. phr. (common).—1. A phrase applied to any ubiquitous person, thing or deed.—See Shop.

1883. G. R. Sims, Lifeboat, etc. (Awful Character). He kills little babies all over the shop, each day in a river one thrown is.

2. Disconcerted.

1887. E. E. Money, Little Dutch Maiden, II., xi., 225. ‘Oh, please don’t blush; it makes me feel all over the shop.’

Allow, subs. (Harrow School).—A boy’s weekly allowance.

Allowances, subs. (tailors’).—The extra measure in cutting cloth for a garment to permit of turnings in for seams; also the trimmings, such as wadding, buttons, braid, etc. Rather technical than slang.

All Round, adj. (popular).—1. Able in all departments; adaptable in every respect to the purpose in view. Whether applied to sport, business, or indeed any department of life or thought, within a given circle, it carries with it, mutatis mutandis, the same meaning. Cf. All around sports.

1881. James Payn, Grape from a Thorn, ch. xl. ‘He’s a bad one all round.’

1883. Graphic, August 11, p. 138, col. 2. Foremost still as an ‘all-round’ cricketer among the gentlemen stands W. G. Grace.

2. Average; see quotation.

1869. Notes on N. W. Prov. India, p. 98. We find an all round rent of so much per acre charged on the cultivation.

All-Rounder, subs. (popular). [From all round + er] he who or that which is all round (q.v.); as an all round man; particularly applied, however, to a shirt collar the same height all round the neck and meeting in front. Once fashionable, but little worn now.

1857. A. Trollope, Three Clerks, ch. xxii. But he had bestowed, perhaps, the greatest amount of personal attention on his collar.… Some people may think that an all-rounder is an all-rounder, and that if one is careful to get an all-rounder one has done all that is necessary. But so thought not Macassar Jones.

1860. All the Year Round, No. 42, 369. That particularly demonstrative type of the [collar] species known as the all rounder. [M.]

1865. Lord Strangford, Selection (1869), II., 163. Dressed in full uniform, with high stand-up collar; the modern all rounder not having got so far into Asia. [M.]

1875. Chambers’ Journal, No. 586. To present himself in an all rounder hat and coat of formal cut on Sunday.

All Round my Hat, adv. phr. (popular).—1. To feel all round one’s hat is to feel queer; out of sorts; all overish.

2. That’s all round my hat is synonymous with gammon! Nonsense! See All my eye. A music hall song [1834] had this phrase as a refrain.

3. Spicy as all round my hat, i.e., sensational.

1882. Punch, vol. LXXXII, p. 177, col. 1. ’Arry on a jewry.

Fact is, I have bin on a Jury. New line for yours truly, dear boy, and I ’oped it might be a rare barney, a thing as a chap could enjoy. I am nuts upon Criminal Cases, Perlice News, you know, and all that, And, thinks I, this will be ‘tuppence coloured,’ and spicy as all round my hat.

Alls, subs.—1. See All nations.

1868. Brewer, Phrase and Fable, s.v. alls, tap-droppings. The refuse of all sorts of spirits drained from the glasses, or spilt in drawing. The mixture is sold in gin-houses at a cheap rate.

2. (artisans’).—See Bens.

All’s Blue.—See Blue.

All Serene! intj. (popular).—All right. All’s well! This phrase is thought to be of Spanish origin, and to be derived from the word serena a countersign used by sentinels in Cuba. The night watchmen in Spain likewise end their proclamation of the hour by ‘é sereno!’ It is also equivalent to O.K., and a few years since was the burden of one of the senseless street cries, which, every now and again, have a vogue in large cities. Most of these catches originate in music-hall songs. All serene, however, was vulgarly colloquial long before the period in question, as will be seen by the following example:

1857. A. Trollope, Three Clerks, ch. xlv. ‘You’re all serene, then, Mr. Snape,’ said Charley; ‘you’re in the right bon.’

All Smoke, Gammon and Pickles.—See Smoke.

All Sorts, subs. (common).—Explained by quotation.—See All nations.

1859. Sala, Gaslight and Daylight, ch. vi. A counter perforated in elaborately-pricked patterns, like a convivial shroud, apparently for ornament, but really for the purpose of allowing the drainings, overflowings, and out-spillings of the gin-glasses to drop through, which, being collected with sundry washings, and a dash, perhaps, of fresh material, is, by the thrifty landlord, dispensed to his customers under the title Of all sorts.

All Sorts of, adj. (American).—First rate; excellent. A phrase very common in the South and West, and used in many different ways. It carries with it the idea of smartness and chic, as, e.g., when applied to a woman, a horse, or a building.

Allspice, subs. (popular).—A nickname for a grocer; the derivation is obvious.

All’s Quiet on the Potomac, phr. (American).—A period of undisturbed rest, quiet enjoyment, or peaceful possession; a phrase dating from the Civil War, when its frequent repetition in the bulletins of the War Secretary made it familiar to the public, who quickly appropriated it in a metaphorical sense. It has since formed the refrain of many a song.

1862. The Picket Guard.

All quiet along the Potomac, they say,

Except now and then a stray picket

Is shot on his beat as he walks to and fro,

By a rifleman hid in a thicket.

All T. H., adv. phr. (tailors cutters’).—Said in praise or approval; a tailor’s equivalent of a 1; all right; all there—of which last it is possibly an abbreviated form.

All the Caboose, adv. phr.—See Caboose.

All the Go, adv. phr. (common).—One of the innumerable superlatives of work-a-day English; quite up to the mark; in full demand; ‘no deception, gents!’—See Go.

All There, adv. phr. (popular).—Up to the mark; first-rate; ready for any emergency; a phrase of general satisfaction and approval; also, in one’s element.

1877. Five Years’ Penal Servitude, ch. iii., p. 220. ‘He stayed in a place doing the grand and sucking the flats till the folks began to smoke him as not all there.’

1880. Punch, Aug. 7, p. 59. All there! Clerk (who has called to see the gas-meter). ‘Is yours a wet, or a dry meter, madam?’ Young Wife (who does not like to show ignorance). ‘Well, it is rather damp, I’m afraid!’

1883. James Payn, Thicker than Water, ch. xx. It was his excusable boast, though expressed in somewhat vulgar language, that when anything was wanted he was ‘all there.’

All the Shoot.—Equivalent to ‘the whole boiling’ (q.v.).

All the Way Down, adv. phr. (popular).—Synonymous with complete adaptability to the end in view; sometimes varied by ‘up to the knocker,’ or ‘up to the nines.’

All to His Own Cheek.—See Cheek.

All to Pieces, adverbial phr. (common).—1. [Cf. Go to pieces.] A superlative of all work. To go all to pieces is to collapse utterly; to be altogether ruined; to be in a state of utter collapse.

1667. Pepys, Diary, Aug. 29. I find by all hands that the Court is at this day all to pieces, every man of a faction of one sort or other.

1811. Jane Austen, Sense and S., ch. xxx. ‘Fifty thousand pounds! and by all accounts it won’t come before its wanted; for they say he is all to pieces. No wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters!’

1882. Punch, LXXXII., 185, 2. ‘Ah Jerry, we might as well go back to the Shades as be among such a shady crowd.’ Young Bob Logic seemed rather nettled at this speech of the Corinthian’s, and said, ‘Well, don’t you know you can’t expect a fellow to look very bright till he’s had an S. and B., or two and a Kümmel? These pals will be all right after dinner.’ ‘Let us hope they will,’ said the Corinthian, ‘for they look all to pieces now.’

2. When a woman is confined she is said to go all to pieces; variants being to explode; to bust up.

3. (rowing).—Collapsed; exhausted; said of a crew when rowing wildly.

1884. Echo, April 7, p. 3, col. 1. The Oxford men were now all to pieces! their boat was full of water.

4. (sporting).—In racing and athletic circles equivalent to want of form.

All to Smash, adv. phr. (common).—Also ‘all to pieces,’ i.e., bankrupt; ruined; in a state of utter delapidation; or, complete discomfiture.—See Smash.

1861. Cuthbert Bede, Our New Rector, ch. x., p. 105. ‘There isn’t a fellow at school can match me, Miss Moore! I beat them all to smash!’

All Up, adv. phr. (common).—‘It’s all up’ with so-and-so, or with such and such a thing, or course of action; i.e., the endeavour is fruitless; utter ruin or collapse is the end of it all; there is nothing left for hope; sometimes also, death. This phrase, indicative of total failure, discomfiture, and destruction, does not appear to be of very ancient standing, and can only be traced back as far as Fielding (see quotation). The mock epitaph, which the late Mr. W. J. Conybeare inserted in his novel Perversion, fitly illustrates the popular usage of all up. It is supposed to be written in commemoration of a country squire cut off in the midst of festivities.

‘Quite well at ten,

Had a few friends to sup with me;

Taken ill at twelve,

And at one it was all up with me.’

Also Up.

Among English Synonyms may be mentioned:—To have missed stays (nautical); to have gone to pot; to have gone to smash; to have gone to the devil.

1752. Fielding, Amelia, book XII., ch. vi. ‘All is up and undone!’ cries Murphy.

1838. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, ch. lx. A-double l, all, everything; a cobbler’s weapon; u-p, up, adjective, not down; s-q-u-double e-r-s, Squeers, noun substantive, a educator of youth. Total, all up with Squeers.

Allus, adv. (vulgar).—Always.

All Wag Blue, subs. phr. (American).—A frolicing, rollicking time; a spree; a kick-up.

Allybeg.—See Llybege.

Almighty, adj. (common).—Mighty; great; exceedingly—a superlative of all work. For example, in the ‘dialect’ of which this word is a component part, an over-officious man is put down as ‘almighty fast’; or a horse with good points as an ‘almighty fine beast’; and so on throughout the whole range of superlative merit. It ranks with ‘awful,’ ‘eternal,’ ‘everlasting,’ ‘lovely,’ and a multitude of other words, orthodox enough when properly handled, but which become the purest slang when used, as is frequently the case, of things finite, and even of trifles. So employed, almighty is generally regarded as an Americanism, and is credited to our kinsmen across the sea, a view supported by De Quincey’s use of the term. If this be so, there is, in truth, little at which to wonder. The ‘wild,’ the boundless West is no unlikely nursery for big, high-sounding words; and though one may justly condemn such depravation of our mother-tongue, the fact remains. Thus, amongst the untutored backwoodsmen and rough pioneers of the West a week is an ‘eternal’ time; a good officer is an almighty general; and a spell of rain is spoken of as an ‘everlasting’ deluge. The foregoing examples by no means exhaust the potentialities of the language; as, e.g., when people talk of a man playing almighty ‘smash’ with his prospects, meaning that he is hopelessly ruining his chances of success: or driving a fellow-citizen into a state of almighty ‘shivers’ through ill-treatment; or of a thing lasting till almighty ‘crack,’ i.e., for an interminable period.

1824. De Quincey, Works (1871), XVI., 261. Such rubbish, such almighty nonsense (to speak transatlantice) no eye has ever beheld.

1833. Marryat, Peter Simple (1863), 328. An almighty pretty French privateer lying in St. Pierre’s.

1888. New York Mercury, July 21. ‘This is a rum world,’ said the driver, with a chuckle, as he drove up the street. ‘And of all places in it New York is the rummest. And hack-drivin’ is the rummest business, leadin’ one into the rummest secrets. Another passenger to the “Rookery.” I wonder whether the other boys gits as many customers to that place as Luke Hyatt? If they do it must be almighty full sometimes.’

In another place De Quincey speaks of a man who cannot live and cannot die as being ‘in an almighty fix,’ and the expression is otherwise frequently used by him. Captain Marryat likewise constantly employs it; in fact, the phrase was well ‘acclimatised’ on this side of the Atlantic long prior to the publication of My Novel [1853], and Prof. Barrère, in attributing its popularisation ‘in a certain measure’ to Lord Lytton, failed to render due credit, if any, either to De Quincey or Marryat.

Almighty Dollar, subs. (American).—The power of money; Mammon regarded as an embodiment of the worship of, and the quest for gold. This phrase is, in reality, an old friend with a new face, for Ben Jonson used the term in its modern sense when speaking of the power of money. Its modern application to dollars is traceable to Washington Irving, who made use of it in a charming little sketch, entitled A Creole Village.

1574–1637. Ben Jonson, Epistle to Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland.

Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold,

And almost every vice, almightie gold.

1839. Washington Irving, Wolfert’s Roost: A Creole Village, p. 40. The almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotee in these peculiar villages.

1876. Besant and Rice, Golden Butterfly, ch. xxii. ‘Genius, gentlemen, is apt to be careless of the main chance. It don’t care for the almighty dollar; it lets fellows like me heap up the stamps.’

1886. G. Sutherland, Australia, p. 102. The travelling Yankee, with an overwearing confidence in the almighty dollar.

Aloft. To go aloft, verb. phr. (common).—To die; the figure of speech presented here is nautical in origin.

1790. C. Dibdin, Sea Songs: Tom Bowling.

Here a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,

The darling of our crew;

No more he’ll hear the tempest howling,

For death has broached him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,

His heart was kind and soft;

Faithful below, Tom did his duty,

And now he’s gone aloft.

Few expressions synonymous with the act of dying equal this in force or pathos; and it is rarely, moreover, that slang climbs on the wings of hope into a purer atmosphere than that of the vices and follies of men with which it is mainly concerned. By no means few in number, nor wanting in sententiousness and dramatic meaning are the phrases employed in the vulgar tongue to signify the greatest of all human experiences.

English Synonyms. To kick the bucket; to hop the twig; to go to Davy Jones’ locker (nautical); to be put to bed with a shovel; to take an earth bath; to croak; to take a ground sweat; to go under (American: the visible disposal of the body furnishing a simile for the process of death); to go up (compare with foregoing: when the victim of lynch law is enquired after the questioner is told that he has ‘gone up,’ i.e., been hanged); to lose the number of one’s mess (a sailor’s phrase); to snuff it (from snuffing a candle); to lay down one’s knife and fork; to stick one’s spoon in the wall; to give in; to give up; to peg out; to slip one’s cable (this, like ‘to go to Davy Jones’ locker,’ is of nautical origin); to pass in one’s checks (a euphemism drawn from the game of poker, the simile being that of settling one’s earthly accounts and the paying in to the banker of the dues at the end of the game); Kickeraboo (West Indian: a corruption of ‘to kick the bucket’).

French. Passer l’arme à gauche (popular: ‘to lay down one’s arms’); casser sa pipe (lit. ‘to break one’s pipe’); dévisser or décoller son billard (lit. ‘to break one’s cue’); graisser ses bottes (lit. ‘to grease one’s boots’); avaler sa langue (lit. ‘to swallow one’s tongue’); avaler sa gaffe (‘to lower one’s boat-hook’); avaler sa cuiller (lit. ‘to lay down one’s spoon’); avaler ses baguettes (military: lit. ‘to lay aside one’s drum-sticks’); n’avoir plus mal aux dents (lit. ‘to have toothache no more.’ In Fr. Argot mal de dents is also synonymous with love); poser sa chique (popular: lit. ‘to lay down one’s finish, elegance, dash, spirit’—in short all that is distinctive in a man); claquer (familiar: lit. ‘to chatter with cold’ or ‘fear’); saluer le public (theat.: lit. ‘to make one’s bow’—to make one’s last appearance on this world’s stage, and one’s first in that land where ‘the dead are many, and the living few’); recevoir son décompte (military: lit. ‘to receive deferred pay’; décompte is also military slang for a ‘mortal wound’); cracher ses embouchures (an expression of musical origin: the figure is obviously that of losing the power to perform on wind instruments); déteindre (popular: lit. ‘to wash off the colour’ or ‘dye.’ Is this a play upon words, or an allusion to death as the great revealer of man as he is?); donner son dernier bon à tirer (familiar: equivalent to the American, ‘to pass in one’s checks.’ French printers understand by this phrase ‘to send the last proofs to press’); lâcher la perche (popular: lit. ‘to slip off one’s perch’); éteindre son gaz (popular: ‘to turn off the gas.’ Cf., ‘to snuff it’); épointer son foret (popular: lit. ‘to break off the point of the drill,’ as in boring); être exproprié (popular: lit. ‘to be dispossessed’; exproprier is a judicial term signifying ‘to take possession of the landed property of a debtor’); péter son lof (sailors’); fumer ses terres; fermer son parapluie (popular: ‘to close one’s umbrella’); perdre son bâton (popular: ‘to lose one’s walking stick’); descendre la garde (popular: ‘to come off guard’); défiler la parade (military: ‘to file off parade’; equivalent to the English ‘to lose the number of one’s mess’); tourner de l’œil (popular: is there not here an allusion to the phenomenon attendant on genuine sleep; feigned sleep can always be detected by turning up the eyelids of the sleeper, if sleep be genuine only the ‘whites’ of the eyes will be discoverable); perdre le goût du pain (popular: ‘to lose one’s taste for bread’); lâcher la rampe (theatrical: ‘to lose sight of the footlights’); faire ses petits paquets (popular: ‘to pack up one’s [small] traps’); casser son crachoir (popular: lit. ‘to break one’s spittoon’ or mouth); remercier son boulanger (thieves’: lit. ‘to thank the baker.’ It must be explained that boulanger baker is a French nickname for the devil); canner; dévider à l’estorgue (thieves’); baiser la camarde (popular: ‘to salute,’ or ‘kiss Death’; camarde is a popular euphemism for the ‘Messenger of Life’); camarder (popular: see previous example); fuir (thieves’: lit. ‘to fly’ or ‘escape’—from justice or capture); casser son câble (popular: ‘to slip the cable’—evidently a simile drawn from the sea); casser son fouet (popular: ‘to break’ or ‘lay aside one’s whip’); faire sa crevaison (popular: crever, ‘to kill’ or ‘die’ is usually only employed in speaking of animals); déralinguer (sailors’: properly ‘to detach from the bolt rope’); virer de bord (sailors’: lit. ‘to tack about’); déchirer son faux-col (popular: verbatim, ‘to burst open one’s collar’—the allusion is obvious); se dégeler (in good French, ‘to thaw’); couper sa mèche (coachman’s: ‘to throw down the whip’); piquer sa plaque (sailors’); mettre la table pour les asticots (popular: properly ‘to lay the table [become food] for worms’); aller manger les pissenlits par la racine (popular: ‘to go and feed off dandelion roots’—observe, by the way, that pissenlit is an exact equivalent for one of the English field names of the dandelion, viz., ‘piddle-the-bed’); laisser fuir son tonneau (familiar: lit. ‘to let fly’ or ‘kick away the cask.’ Cf., ‘to kick the bucket’); calancher (vagrants’); laisser ses bottes quelque part (familiar: lit. ‘to leave one’s boots somewhere’); déchirer son habit (popular: properly ‘to rend’ or ‘cast aside one’s coat’); déchirer son tablier (popular: in literary French this means, ‘to throw aside or destroy one’s apron’); souffler sa veilleuse (popular: meaning lit. ‘to blow out one’s nightlamp’ or ‘floating wick.’ Compare with ‘to snuff it’ or ‘to put out one’s light’ in English slang); pousser le boum de cygne (popular); avoir son coke (familiar); prendre sa secousse (popular: i.e., ‘to take one’s blow’ or ‘shock’); rendre sa buche (tailors’: the allusion is an obvious one); rendre sa canne au ministre (military: lit. ‘to resign one’s commission to the Minister [of War]’); rendre sa clef (gypsy: lit. ‘to give up the key’); rendre son livret (popular: lit. ‘to throw up one’s cards’).

German Synonyms. See Hop the twig.

Italian Fourbesque. Sbasire (lit. ‘to faint away’); sbasire su le funi (lit. ‘to faint away on the rope’).

Alone, adv. (old).—In the flash vocabulary of the time of Pierce Egan’s Tom and Jerry [circa 1800–1825], only an experienced man of the world could be allowed to go alone. Such a one was said to be fly; up to snuff (q.v.), etc.

Along Of, adv. (vulgar).—A dialectical form for on account of; owing to; pertaining, or belonging to. Formerly along on, and it so appeared as early as A.D. 880: along of was used by Chaucer, but it is now mainly confined to the illiterate or vulgar.

1369. Chaucer, Troylus ii., 1001. On me is not along thin evil fare.

1581. W. Stafford, Exam. of Complaints, p. 16 (New Shaks. Soc.: Ed.). Complaining of general poverty, he says: ‘Whereof it is longe, I cannot well tell.’

1601. Holland, Pliny, p. 25, quoted in Morris’ Elem. Hist. Eng. Gram., p. 198. And that is long of contrarie causes.

1858. Dickens, Xmas. Stories (going into Society), p. 65 (II. ed.). Would he object to say why he left it? Not at all; why should he? He left it along of a dwarf.

1881. W. Black, Beautiful Wretch, ch. xviii. ‘Mayhap the concert didn’t come off, along of the snow.’

Alsatia, or Alsatia the Higher, subs. (old slang).—1. Whitefriars, once a place privileged from arrests for debt, as was also Alsatia the lower, or the Mint in Southwark. Both were suppressed, in 1697, on account of the notorious abuses committed there. A charter of liberties and privileges had been granted, in 1608, by King James I. to the inhabitants of this district, and it speedily became the haunt of insolvent debtors, cheats, and gamesters, who conferred upon it the jocular cant name of Alsatia, a Latinised form of Alsace, a province which had long enjoyed the reputation of a ‘debateable land.’

1688. Shadwell, Sq. of Alsatia I., in wks. (1720), IV., 25. Who are these? Some inhabitants of White-fryers; some bullies of Alsatia.

1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvi. Whitefriars, adjacent to the Temple, then well known by the cant name of Alsatia.

2. Hence any rendezvous or asylum for loose characters and criminals, where immunity from arrest is tolerably certain; a haunt of thieves, and the criminal classes; a low quarter.

1787. Grose, Prov. Glossary, etc. (1811), p. 82. A ’squire of Alsatia. A spendthrift or sharper, inhabiting places formerly privileged from arrests.

1861. Miss Braddon, Trail of the Serpent, bk. II., ch. i. So Blind Peter was the Alsatia of Slopperton, a refuge for crime and destitution.

1876. Lord Justice James, in ex parte Saffery re Cooke, Law Times, 35, p. 718. The Stock Exchange is not an Alsatia; the Queen’s laws are paramount there, and the Queen’s writ runs even into the sacred precincts of Capel-Court.

Alsatian, subs. (old).—A rogue, or debauchee, such as haunted Alsatia or Whitefriars.

1691. Luttrell, Brief Rel. (1857), II., 259. The benchers of the Inner Temple having given orders for bricking up their little gate leading into White-fryers … the Alsatians came and pulled it down.

c. 1700. Gentleman Instructed, p. 491 [10 ed., 1732]. He spurr’d to London, and left a thousand curses behind him. Here he struck up with sharpers, scourers, and Alsatians.

1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvii. ‘You shall sink a nobleman in the Temple Gardens, and rise an Alsatian at Whitefriars.’

Adj.—Pertaining to Alsatia; roguish; debauched.

1688. Shadwell, Sq. of Alsatia I. in wks. (1720), IV., 27. He came out of White Fryers: he’s some Alsatian bully.

1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvii. An extravagantly long rapier and poinard marked the true Alsatian bully.

1882. Besant, All Sorts and Conditions of Men, ch. vii. The road has come to be regarded with admiration as one of those Alsatian retreats, growing every day rarer, which are beyond and above the law.

Alsatia Phrase, subs. (old).—A slang or cant term, such as was used by Alsatians; or, now-a-days, by thieves and vagrants.

1704. Swift, Tale of a Tub. Apology for author. The second instance to shew the author’s wit is not his own, is Peter’s banter (as he calls it in his Alsatia phrase) upon transubstantiation.

Synonymous terms were Pedler’s French, St. Giles’ Greek, etc.

Altamel, Altemal, subs., adj., adv., and intj. (American thieves’).—

Adv.—All together, as ‘Let’s anchor altemal,’ i.e., ‘Let us come to a stop altogether.’

Subs.—The sum total of a bill or story.

Intj.—An injunction to ‘cut it short.’

Altemal is said to be derived from the Dutch altemal, but Murray has it as ‘altumal’ with a different derivation. [From L. altum, the deep, i.e., the sea + al.] Grose leans to the former and quotes Dutch reckoning as synonymous; from a verbal account without particulars, such as was given in brothels and sponging houses—accounts which allowed of no sort of verification. Cf., Flemish account and remarks under Dutch.

1711. Medleys, 29 Jan. (1712), 186. His altumal cant, a mark of his poor Traffick and Tar-Education.

1758. Chambers, Cycl. Supp. Altumal, a term used to denote the mercantile style, or dialect. In this sense, we meet with altumal cant, to denote the language of petty traders and tars.

Altering the Jeff’s Click.—See Jeff’s click.

Altham, subs. (old cant).—A wife; mistress.—See quotation.

1560. John Awdeley, Fraternitye of Vacabondes (1869. English Dialect Society’s Reprint), p. 4. A curtall is much like to the Vpright man, but hys authority is not fully so great. He vseth commonly to go with a short cloke, like to grey Friers, and his woman with him in like liuery, which he calleth his altham if she be hys.

Altitudes. In his altitudes, phr. (old).—In an elevated mood, chiefly from liquor; putting on airs and graces; using lofty phrases; in a state of excitement; and, in a special slang sense, drunk. The phrase has been incorrectly given as ‘out of his altitudes.’ The first trace of it is to be found in Beaumont and Fletcher’s Laws of Candy, II. [1616].

1630. Jonson, New Inn, I. I have talked somewhat above my share, at large, and been in the altitudes, the extravagants.

1668. Dryden, An Evening’s Love, Act iii. If we men could but learn to value ourselves, we should soon take down our mistresses from all their altitudes, and make them dance after our pipes.

1705. Vanbrugh, Confederacy, Act v. Clar. ‘Who makes thee cry out thus, poor Brass?’ Brass. ‘Why, your husband, madam; he’s in his altitudes here.’

1785. Francis Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. The man is in his altitudes, i.e., he is drunk.

Altocad, subs. (Win. Coll.).—A somewhat venerable paid member of the choir who takes alto.

Alybbeg.—See Lybbege.

Alycompaine.—See Allacompain.

Ambassador, subs. (nautical).—A sailor’s practical joke upon ‘green’ hands, similar to the festivities formerly universally observed when ‘crossing the line.’ These tricks have been common to sailors of every nation. Ambassador was thus managed:—A large tub was filled with water, two stools being placed on either side of it; over the whole was thrown a tarpaulin or old sail, kept tight by two persons, who represented the king and queen of a foreign country, and who were seated on the stools. To the victim was allotted the part of ambassador, who, after repeating a ridiculous speech dictated to him, was led in great state up to the throne, and seated between the king and queen. They rising suddenly, as soon as the unsuspecting victim was seated, caused him to fall backward into the tub of water.

Ambassador of Commerce, subs. (familiar).—A commercial traveller; a bagman (q.v.).

Ambia, subs. (American).—A euphemism for the juice of tobacco, as expectorated after chewing. Most frequently heard in the Southern and Western States. Apparently a corruption of ‘amber’ (indeed it is commonly spelt and pronounced ambeer)—presumably from a similarity in colour between expectorated tobacco saliva and the mineralised resinous product.

Ambidexter, also in 17th century, Ambodexter, subs. and adj. (old slang).—[From ambo, both + dexter, the right hand, i.e., the faculty of using both hands as right hands, or equally well.] Applied first in a slang sense to a lawyer taking fees or bribes from both plaintiff and defendant, ambidexter gradually became identified with double-dealing of all kinds.

1532. Use of Dice Play (1850), 17. Any affinity with our men of law? Never with those that be honest. Marry! with such as be ambidexters, and used to play in both the hands. [M.]

1555. Ridley, Works, 27. They may be called neutrals, ambidexters, or rather such as can shift on both sides. [M.]

1691. Blount, Law Dictionary. Ambidexter.… That Juror or Embraceor who takes Money on both sides, for giving his Verdict.

1703. De Foe, Ref. Manners, 93. Those ambodexters in Religion, who Can any thing dispute, yet any thing can do.

1864. Sir F. Palgrave, Norman and Eng. III., 278. An ambidexter, owing fealty to both Counts, and not faithful to either.

Ambush, subs. (American thieves’).—Fraudulent weights and measures. A punning allusion to the accepted meaning of the word—to lie in wait (lying weight). In juxtaposition to this may be placed the Fourbesque (Italian thieves’ argot); giusta, a pair of scales, a balance, which in Italian literally means ‘correct.’ Cf., French thieves’ argot, juste (an abbreviation of justice), for the assizes; also the Spanish Germania justia, in a similar sense, the last-named being a shortened form of the Spanish justicia.

Amen Curler, subs. (old slang).—The name formerly given to a parish clerk. In the army the chaplain’s clerk is called an amen wallah (q.v.).

Amener, subs. (old).—A nickname given to one who agrees to everything said or done. [From that sense of amen = to ratify solemnly + er.]

Amen-Snorter, subs. (Australian).—A parson; from which it will be observed that the fifth continent is evolving words and phrases as peculiar to itself as America has already done. For synonyms, see Devil dodger.

1888. Bulletin, Nov. 24. In Maori-land it is impossible to swing any kind of cat without smiting some variety of amen-snorter. Still the saints are not happy. They have just held at Wellington a ‘United Ker-ristian Conference’ to ruminate on the sinfulness of things and the scarcity of the unsanctified threepenny. A Rev. vessel, one Potter, opined that the meagre quantity and inferior quality of family devotion accounted for the depleted condition of the ‘treasury of the Loard,’ and suggested that steps should be taken ‘to find out what families omit this important duty.’ Since which all the dead-beats and suspected hen-snatchers plead when before the Binch that they were ‘only mouching round to find out whether the family neglected its religious dooties, yer washup.’

Amen Wallah, subs. (military).—A chaplain’s clerk; the allusion is sufficiently obvious. ‘Wallah’ is Hindustani for ‘man’ or person. Cf., the old English slang, amen curler (q.v.).

Amerace, adv. (American thieves’).—Jargon signifying near at hand; within call.

American Shoulders, subs. (tailors’).—A particular ‘cut,’ in which the shoulders of a coat are so shaped as to give the wearer a broad and burly appearance. This is usually done where a man’s shoulders are of the champagne (q.v.) order, i.e., like the neck of a wine bottle, with nothing upon which the garment in question can be hung.

American Tweezers, subs. (thieves’).—An ingenious instrument of American invention, by means of which it is possible to turn a key in a door and unlock it from the outside.

Ames Ace, Ambs-Ace, or Ambes-Ace. Within ames ace, subs. phr. (old).—1. Nearly; very near; ambs-ace was the double ace, the lowest throw at dice. Hence also

2. Bad luck; misfortune. The expression, according to Murray, dates back to A.D. 1297.

Aminidab, subs. (old).—A jeering name for a Quaker.—Grose.

Ammunition, subs. (common).—Paper for use at the cabinet d’aisance. Also called curl papers (q.v.).

Ammunition Leg, subs. (military).—A wooden leg. From the attributive use of ‘ammunition’ as applied to stores supplied to soldiers for equipment or rations. To show the length to which this application of the word has been carried, it may be noted that Robertson, in 1693, speaks of ‘an ammunition whore.’—scortum castrense.

Amort, adv. and pred. adj. (old).—Usually all amort, an antithetical phrase to all alive (q.v.), and meaning half dead; in a state of stupor; without spirit; sometimes used as a synonym of balmy, cracked, dotty, all of which see. A-la-mort, from the French, is regarded as the original form, though it is doubtful which took precedence in literary English. At one time both forms were quite naturalised; they are now of interest as affording an instance of words, gradually lapsing into slang or vulgar usage, and then coming to be regarded as Anglo-French phrases. American thieves still retain them, to signify struck dumb, or confounded; in these senses they are given by Grose in his Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue [1787], which would seem to show they had already commenced their downward career.

Ampersand, subs. (familiar).—The breech; or posteriors. [From Eng. and + Latin per se, by itself, + Eng. and; literally, ‘and by itself and’ used to distinguish the character ‘&,’ which in old nursery books came at the end of the alphabet. Hence, employed to signify the hinder parts.] The word in its slang sense is quite a recent introduction, said to be of American origin. For synonyms, see Blind cheeks.

Amputate. To amputate one’s mahogany or timber (familiar).—To be off; to begone—the idea being that of quick or violent motion, often, though not always, the result of moral or physical force. [Probably from that sense of amputate equivalent to ‘cut off’ or ‘away.’ Cf., ‘cut,’ a slang synonym.] A welcher is called a timber-merchant, because he removes himself, or ‘cuts his stick’ with celerity as occasion requires. Both the English and French have many synonymous words and phrases to express the same idea. Among the more popular may be mentioned:—

English Synonyms. To skedaddle (an American term); to cut one’s lucky; to sling, or take one’s hook; to mizzle; to absquatulate; to pad the hoof; to give leg bail; to bolt; to cut and run; to chivey; to walk the trotters; to slip one’s cable; to step it; to leg it; to tip the double; to make, or take tracks; to hook it; to make beef (thieves’ term); to slope; to cut the cable and run before the wind (obviously a sailor’s phrase); to slip it; to abskize; to paddle; to guy (used by thieves); to evaporate; to vamoose (American, from the Spanish imperative vamos, let us go); to speele (used by thieves); to skip; to tip one’s rags a gallop; to walk one’s chalks; to pike; to hop the twig; to turn it up; to cap one’s lucky (a phrase mainly confined to American thieves); to crush; to cut dirt; to bunk; to pike it; to stir one’s stumps.

French. Faire or jouer la fille de l’air (lit. ‘to go like the wind,’ fille de l’air, daughter of air, being a poetical embodiment); faire le lézard (a thief’s term, and meaning properly ‘to imitate a lizard,’ an allusion to swiftness of motion); faire le jat-jat; faire la paire (lit. ‘to go double,’ Cf., ‘to tip the double’); faire gille (a very old French phrase; it means also to become bankrupt. The connection between bankruptcy and decamping is obvious); se déguiser en cerf (popular: lit. ‘to play the stag’); s’évanouir (popular: lit. ‘to vanish’ or ‘fade away’); se cramper or tirer sa crampe (cramper is a popular term for rapid flight, and contains an allusion to the cramp or nervous contraction sometimes caused by violent motion. Old French had the verb crampir in the sense of ‘to bend’ or ‘double up.’ Tirer sa crampe is lit. ‘to get cramped’); se lâcher du ballon (popular: ‘to let loose the balloon,’ an allusion to the rapidity with which a balloon shoots up into the air when set free); se la couler (exactly equivalent to the English slang ‘to slip it’); se donner de l’air (popular: Cf., faire la fille de l’air); se pousser du zeph (popular: properly ‘to push forward with the wind.’ Zeph is a contraction of zephir); se sylphider (popular: from sylphide, a sylph; a reference to what in English racing terminology would be termed the ‘light-weight’ character of such creatures enabling them to get over the ground quickly); se faire la débinette; jouer des fourchettes (popular: ‘to put one’s forks into play’); fourchettes (in French argot = legs or ‘pins’); se la donner (Michel says la here refers to ‘la clef des champs,’ an expression synonymous with ‘liberty’ or ‘freedom’); se la briser (popular); ramasser un bidon (thieves’); se la casser (popular); se la tirer; tirer ses granches; valser (lit. to dance); se tirer les pincettes (popular: lit. ‘to pull along’ or to extricate ‘one’s tongs’ or ‘nippers.’ Cf., English ‘nip along’); se tirer les baladoires; se tirer les pattes (lit. ‘to move one’s paws’); se tirer les trimoires (thieves’: trimoires is a cant term for legs, and trimer signifies painful progression, or doing most of a journey on foot); se tirer les flûtes (popular: les flûtes = ‘shanks’ or ‘pegs’); jouer des guibes (guibe is a popular term for the leg, chiefly employed in burlesque); jouer des quilles (this expression is very old. Quilles properly signifies ‘crutches,’ and is popularly employed for the legs); se carapater (lit. ‘to run on one’s paws.’ Cf., ‘to take to one’s heels’); se barrer (lit. ‘to dash over’); baudrouiller (thieves’: this has the signification of ‘to whip up’); se cavaler (thieves’: cavaler was once synonymous with chevaucher; therefore, se cavaler signifies in reality, ‘to go on horseback on oneself,’ in which connection it may be compared with ‘shanks’ mare,’ the ‘marrow-bone stage’ [the Marylebone stage], or the German Schuhster’s Rappen, the shoemaker’s black horses, i.e., the shoes. Se cavaler likewise has reference to running away with the tail between the legs when fright has seized hold of an animal, and as employed by thieves conveys the idea of cowardice as well as that of locomotion); faire une cavale or se payer une cavale (popular: Cf., se cavaler); jouer des or se tirer les paturons (popular and thieves’: this may be translated ‘to pad the hoof.’ Paturons is properly the ‘pasterns.’ The frequent use of se tirer in connection with the idea of moving from place to place with a celerity which is oftentimes accentuated by a fear of arrest or unwelcome obstruction is extremely fitting. Se tirer means literally to extricate oneself; to get through; to pull oneself forward—extra endeavour resulting in rapid progression); happer le taillis (thieves’: lit. ‘to catch, lay hold of’ or ‘gain the copse’; i.e., a place of concealment); flasquer du poivre à quelqu’un or la rousse (thieves’: Cf., Amuse; ‘to fly from the police’; lit. ‘to shake the pepper box in the eyes of the police’; rousse is a cant term for a guardian of the peace); décaniller (thieves’: this word, derived from canille, a French provincialism for chenille, a caterpillar, is an allusion to the metamorphosis of the grub into a butterfly when it takes unto itself wings); décarrer (thieves’: to leave prison; décarrer de belle, to be released from prison without having been tried); exhiber son prussien (popular: prussien is a common colloquialism for the posteriors, and the phrase literally means ‘to show one’s behind,’ or ‘turn tail.’ It may be worth while remarking that the term prussien as applied to the breech is no vulgar expression of contempt towards the Prussians. The word is derived, says Michel, from the gypsy prusiatiñi, which Borrow translates by pistol. Formerly the French called ‘the behind’ by the name of a Parisian church, Saint-Jean le Rond); démurger (thieves’: to leave a place; to be set at liberty); désarrer (thieves’: ‘to guy’; to make beef); gagner les gigoteaux (also gagner au trot, au pied, gagner le camp, la colline, le taillis, la guérite, etc.); se faire une paire de mains courantes à la mode (thieves’); fendre l’ergot (lit. ‘to split the spur,’ an allusion to the toes being pressed to the ground, and thus naturally parted); filer son nœud, or son cable (sailors’ and popular: lit. ‘to cut the ropes’ or ‘cable’); se défiler (popular, but derived from the military term, signifying to go off parade: might be translated ‘to leg it’); s’écar-bouiller (popular: properly ‘to crush’; compare with the English synonym ‘crush’); esballonner (popular); filer son cable par le bout (sailors’); faire chibis (thieves’: ‘to escape from prison’); déraper (common); fouiner (popular: this is, in reality, no more slang than the English ‘to sneak away’); se la fracturer (popular: properly a surgical term, meaning ‘to fracture’); jouer des gambettes (popular: may be translated ‘to leg it’; ‘to stir one’s stumps’; gambettes is from the old French gambe, a leg); s’esbigner (popular: properly ‘to give the slip’); ramoner ses tuyaux (popular: lit. ‘to sweep one’s chimney’; ramoner, in its primary cant signification of ‘to mutter’ or ‘to mumble,’ is an allusion to the rumbling noise produced by sweeping a chimney. Se faire ramoner is ‘to go to confession,’ or ‘to take a purgative’—the one a moral, and the other a physical cleansing. Hence ramoner ses tuyaux, ‘to run away,’ in reference to the speedy locomotion consequent upon the process of purging); foutre le camp (popular: equivalent to ‘hook it’; a coarse expression); tirer le chausson (popular); se vanner (thieves: Michel derives this from the Italian vannare, ‘to flap the wings,’ but another authority refers it to the motions of the body and arms of a winnower; the word in literary French signifying ‘to sift’ or ‘to winnow.’ Others trace it to the old French vanoyer, ‘to disappear.’ In all cases, however, it would seem to be equivalent to the English ‘come shake yourself! be off!’); ambier (thieves’); chier du poivre (popular: ‘to abscond,’ or ‘to fail to be at hand when needed’); se débiner, or se débiner des fumerons (popular: ‘to stir one’s stumps’); caleter (popular); attacher une gamelle (popular and thieves’); camper (low); affuter ses pincettes (thieves’: lit. ‘to sharpen the pins’ or ‘to leg it’); and many others.

German Synonyms. Abbaschen (from paschen, ‘to smuggle’); abbauen (literally ‘to remove, or finish’ [a building]); abfocken; abhalchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); schefften; abschnurren (a beggar-musicians’ term; also to beg through a lane, town, or district. [M.H.G., snurren, schnurren, schnurrant]); abtarchenen; abtippeln (to run away secretly); alchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); aschween (Hanoverian: according to Thiele hascheweine—probably corrupted from schuw; heschiw, ‘to turn round’); blättern (corrupted from plettern—Hebrew pleto); caball (from Latin caballus, ‘a horse’; hence, to fly quickly as if on horseback); dippeln (a Viennese thieves’ term) fucken or focken.

Italian Fourbesque. Sbignare or svignare (these words though given as cant by the author of the Nuovo Modo are now received words); comprare (lit. ‘to buy’); comprar viole; allungare il muro (lit. ‘to lengthen the wall’); balzare (lit. ‘to caper,’ ‘to skip,’ ‘to bounce’); batter la calcosa (lit. ‘to beat the earth.’ Cf., American ‘to cut dirt’); dare a lata; scoscare.

Spanish Germania. Piñarse (an old and now obsolete term); alar; alarse; alolargo (lit. ‘at large’); picar (lit. ‘to use the spurs’); safarse (lit. ‘to escape’ or ‘save oneself’ [from arrest]).

Amuse, verb. (old cant).—To fling dust or snuff in the eyes of a person intended to be robbed. Also, to invent some plausible tale, to delude shop-keepers and others, thereby to put them off their guard, and so to obtain an opportunity of robbing them.

Amusers, subs. (old cant and American thieves’).—A certain class of thieves’ accomplices who throw snuff, pepper, and other noxious substances in the eyes of the person they intend to rob, a confederate then, while apparently coming to the rescue, completing the operation. In this, as in much of the slang of the criminal classes, there runs a vein of brutal cynicism. Though obsolete in England the term survives in America amongst the criminal classes.

Anabaptist, subs. (old slang).—A pickpocket caught in the act, and punished with the discipline of the pump or horse-pond.—Grose.

Anchor. To come to an anchor, verb. phr. (nautical and common).—To stop; to sit down; to rest. [From the operation of bringing ships to a standstill by casting anchor.]

Anchorage, subs. (common).—An abode; where one dwells. Of nautical origin (see Anchor). For synonyms, see Diggings.

Ancient Mariners, subs. (Univ. Oxford).—A term applied to rowing dons.

And Don’t You Forget It, phr. (American).—A senseless string of words employed indiscriminately in season and out of season. Like ‘Who’s your hatter?’ ‘How’s your poor feet?’ ‘Not for Joe!’ ‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ ‘What! again! so soon?’ and many others, which every now and then have caught the ‘fancy’ of the streets of our large towns, the phrase under consideration has run an almost riotous course through the large centres of population in America. In most cases these strings of words convey no special idea, and can only be described as utterly vulgar, without the slightest scintillation of wit or humour of any kind.

1888. Boston Weekly Globe, Feb. 29. There can be no two opposing opinions in that respect. Great capital demands dividends. Dividends can be had only from a prosperous business. A prosperous business must recognise the law of supply and demand, and if the public demand dirt the newspapers will furnish dirt—and don’t you forget it.

1888. Detroit Free Press, Oct. 6. ‘Did you see any Quakers in Philadelphia?’ was asked of a Detroiter who lately returned from that city.

‘Only one that I was sure of.’

‘Did he ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ you?’

‘He did. He got down off his hack and said: ‘If thee don’t pay me 2 dols. I’ll knock thy blamed head off,’ and I paid, although I knew the regular fare was twelve shillings. You don’t want to fool with those Quakers any, and don’t you forget it.’

And He Didn’t, phr. (tailors’).—A phrase of the all my eye (q.v.) stamp, i.e., ‘You tell me you have not; but for all that I think you have’—the action referred to being generally of a discreditable character.

And No Mogue? phr. (tailors’).—Used in a variety of ways to signify doubt and uncertainty. It is equivalent to the street gamin’s ‘no kid?’ when used interrogatively, i.e., ‘there’s no mistake, is there?’ ‘Now, joking apart?’ Also used as a ‘set down’ to narrators claiming descent from Baron Munchausen, in which case it is equivalent to the ‘You don’t say so!’ of politer circles; in both cases the spokesman conveys the idea that one’s credulity has been somewhat taxed.

And No Whistle, phr. (tailors’).—A kind of tu quoque; usually applied to a man by a listener desiring to convey to the speaker the idea that no matter what others may think to the contrary, he [the listener] believes that what has been said refers to the person speaking.

Andrew Millar, subs. (nautical).—A curious cant name for a ship of war; sometimes simply Andrew. Its origin is quite unknown; but it has been pointed out that Antonio, in the Merchant of Venice, speaks of one of his vessels as his ‘wealthy Andrew’; and it has been conjectured that in this case the ship was named after the celebrated Admiral Andrea Doria, who died in 1560. But to trace any connection between this Andrew, however general the use of the name may have become, and the Andrew Millar of modern sailors’ slang, would be difficult.

1598. Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, i., i., 27.

But I should think of shallows and of flats,

And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand.

Among Australian smugglers the term still survives for a revenue cutter.

Angel or Flying Angel, subs. (common).—Explained by quotation.

1880. James Greenwood, Seaside Insanity in Odd People in Odd Places, p. 45. It is at this point when the one day excursionist, who, as well as his wife, has an olive-branch or two with him, finds his fortitude suddenly collapse. With the youngest but one (his good lady, of course, carries the baby) bestriding his shoulder, he puts his best foot foremost from the beach to the town so as to be in good time at the station. He is hot and fagged, and his temper is not improved by the knowledge that the cherub to whom he is giving a ‘flying angel’ is smearing his Sunday hat with the seaweed with which its little fists are full.

Angelicas.—See Angelics.

Angelics, subs. (old).—Unmarried young ladies. Now Angelicas.

1821. Moncrieff, Tom and Jerry, p. 5. (Dicks’ ed., 1889.) Jerry. You think the cut of my clothes rather too rustic—eh? Tom. Exactly; dress is the order of the day. A man must have the look of a gentleman, if he has nothing else. We must assume a style if we have it not. This, what do you call it?—this cover-me-decently, was all very well at Hawthorn Hall, I daresay; but here, among the pinks in Rotten Row, the ladybirds in the Saloon, the angelics at Almack’s, the top-of-the-tree heroes, the legs and levanters at Tattersall’s, nay, even among the millers at the Fives, it would be taken for nothing less than the index of a complete flat.

Angeliferous, adj. (American).—Angelic; also super-excellent; a factitious word. It is interesting to note that ‘angelification,’ ‘angelify,’ and ‘angelified,’ were in use in the seventeenth century, but never to any great extent. [From angel + iferous, a spurious form based on the model of ‘auriferous.’] It is said to have been first used by Bird in his novel, entitled Nick of the Woods.

Angels Altogether, subs. phr. (West Indian).—A sobriquet applied to habitual drunkards. It originated about the year 1876, and was, in the first instance, a bon-mot of a well-known sugar planter on the East Coast Demerara. A negro hand, notorious for his hard drinking, applied for a holiday, and the manager having a suspicion that Quashie wanted it simply to go ‘on the drink,’ bantered him as follows:—‘John! you were drunk on Sunday?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ ‘Monday too?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ and on the question being repeated as regards Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, it elicited similar responses, whereupon the ‘boss’ quietly, but pointedly said, ‘But John, you can’t be an angel altogether, you know!’ The story got abroad, caught on, and in a short time the whole colony rang with the expression.

Angel’s Footstool, subs. phr. (nautical).—Yankee skippers, given to high falutin’, aver that their craft carry far more canvas than any vessel afloat of ‘foreign’ origin (the term ‘foreign’ including British bottoms, as well as those of nations other than Anglo-Saxon). Imaginary sails are crowded on their craft, among these being one which they jokingly call an angel’s footstool. It is pretended to be a square sail, and is supposed to top the skyscrapers, moon-sails, and cloud cleaners (q.v.).

Angel’s Gear, subs. phr. (nautical).—It is thus that ‘jolly tars’ sometimes speak of female attire. Jack is notoriously most susceptible where a petticoat is concerned.

Angel’s-Oil, subs. (old).—A seventeenth century colloquialism for money used for bribery; sometimes oil of angels. For synonyms, see Actual, and Boodle.

Angel’s Suit, subs. phr. (tailors’).—A ‘combination’ garment for males. The coat and waistcoat were made in one, and the ‘unmentionables’ buttoned on to it. Neither garment nor name was extensively adopted.

Angel’s Whisper, subs. phr. (military).—A name given to the call to defaulter’s drill. Needless to say it is, as Artemus Ward would express it, ‘wrote sarcastic.’

Anglers, Hookers, or Starrers, subs. (old).—Pilferers or petty thieves, who, with a stick having a hook at the end, steal goods from shop windows, etc. So far Grose; but Duncombe adds that starrers are an order of thieves who break show glasses in jewellers’ windows and, in the consequent confusion steal the goods. The term is a very ancient one. Dekker in English Villanies [1632], thus describes an ‘angler for duds’:—‘He carries a short staff in his hand, which is called a filch, having in the nab or head of it a ferme (that is to say a hole) into which, upon any piece of service, when he goes a filching, he putteth a hooke of iron, with which hook he angles at a window in the dead of night for shirts, smockes, or any other linen or woollen.’ It would appear from this that modern thieves are both much more daring and expert. It is not an uncommon thing for a crack thief, in the broad daylight, in the most crowded streets of London, to break a jeweller’s window, snatch some valuables, and make off with them. An iron instrument is used for the purpose which is concealed by the coat sleeve.—See Area sneak.

Angling Cove, subs. (thieves’).—A receiver of stolen goods.—See Fence.

Angling for Farthings, verb. phr. (old thieves’).—Begging out of a prison window with a cap or box, let down at the end of a long string.—Grose. Such a practice, it is needless to say, would be impossible nowadays.—See Hooker.

Anglomaniacs, subs. phr. (American).—A club in Boston is thus self-styled. Its members are opposed to anything British in every shape and form. The term is of course a contradiction, and should, to express the policy of its members, be Anglophobists.

Angry Boys.—See Bloods.

Angular Party, subs. phr. (common).—A term given to any gathering of people of which the number is odd; say three, seven, thirteen, etc.

Animal, subs. (American).—A new arrival at the United States Military Academy at West Point. Cf., Snooker.

To go the whole animal (American).—A variant of ‘to go the whole hog.’ In the West Indies it is varied by ‘to go the whole dog.’—See Hog.

1838. C. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, p.… Opposing all half measures, and preferring to go the extreme animal.

1859. G. A. Sala, Twice Round the Clock, p. 62.… that they had much better pay first-class, and go the entire animal.

Animules, subs. (American).—This expression is very generally used in the South-western territories, and in California, as a substitute for ‘mules.’ A witty play upon ‘animals’ and ‘mules.’

1834(?) Centre-Pole Bill, in Overland Monthly. ‘Ten miles to town! Waal, stranger, I guess I’ll stake out here to-night. Them animules is too beat to do that. Where’s yer water?’ ‘It’s all around you to-night; but you can turn your mules into the corral.’

Ankle. To sprain one’s ankle, verb. phr. (old).—When a girl has been seduced she is said to have sprained her ankle. Both French and German slang have analogous expressions; in the former, elle a mal aux genoux is said of a woman who is pregnant, i.e., ‘she has a bad knee.’ In German, ladies so placed ‘lose a shoe’; but of synonyms there are plenty.—See Leg.

Ankle-Beaters, subs. phr. (old).—A class of boys who attended cattle markets for the purpose of driving to the slaughter-house the animals purchased by the butcher. They were called ankle-beaters from their driving the animals with long wattles, and beating them on the legs to avoid spoiling or bruising the flesh. Also called penny-boys (q.v.), because they received one penny per head as remuneration.

Anne’s Fan, properly Queen Anne’s Fan, subs. phr. (common).—Putting the tip of the thumb of either hand to the nose, and then spreading the fingers in the shape of a fan. A gesture of contempt often intensified either by twiddling the digits when in the position named, or by similarly placing the other hand in an extended line. It is also called taking a sight (q.v.), and biting the thumb (q.v.).

Annex, verb. (American).—To steal; in England the wise it call ‘convey.’—See Bone.

Anodyne, subs. (American thieves’).—A euphemism for death. From the figurative sense of the word—anything that soothes wounded or excited feelings, or that lessens the sense of misfortunes. Cf., Old English slang term for a halter, Anodyne necklace.

Verb. (American thieves’).—To kill. Cf., foregoing; also To cook one’s goose.

Anodyne Necklace, subs. phr. (old).—A halter. An anodyne is that which allays or extinguishes pain, and the hangman’s rope may indeed be regarded, from one point of view, as a cure for all pains. The expression is old, being traced back to 1639. During the period when the death penalty was inflicted for all kinds of comparatively trivial offences—for sheep stealing, and even highway robberies of not more than forty shillings value—synonyms equally grim and sententious were numerous. According to Wilyam Bullein, an anodyne necklace was that which ‘light fellows merrily will call … neckweede, or Sir Tristam’s knot, or St. Andrew’s lace (q.v.).’ Other terms for the hangman’s noose were hempen cravat, horse’s nightcap, Tyburn tippet (q.v.).

1639. F. Beaumont, Bloody Brother, Act iii., Sc. 2. [Speaks of the hangman’s halter as a ‘necklace.’]

1766. Oliver Goldsmith, Vicar of Wakefield [works, Globe ed., chap. xx., p. 43.] [George Primrose’s cousin exclaims] ‘May I die by an anodyne necklace, but I’d rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate [than an usher in a boarding-school]’.

The water poet (John Taylor, a Thames waterman, 1580–1654), explaining the virtue of hemp, says:—

Some call it neck-weed, for it hath a tricke

To cure the necke that’s troubled with the crick.

An anodyne necklace was also the name of a quack amulet, which, for a long period, was a household word. This famous remedy occupied as prominent a position in the advertising columns of the journals of the middle of the eighteenth as Holloway’s pills in the latter part of the nineteenth century. This necklace was of beads artificially prepared, small, like barleycorns, and cost five shillings. For foreign synonyms, see Horse’s nightcap.

Anoint, verb. (familiar).—To beat soundly; to thrash; humorously derived from the proper meaning of the word, ‘to smear’ or ‘rub over with oil or other unctuous substances.’ In the North of England the saying is somewhat more analogous—‘to anoint with the sap of a hazel rod.’

1175. Rom. of Partenay (Skeat), 5653.

Then thay put hym hout, the kyng away fly,

Which so well was anoynted indede,

That no slene ne pane had he hole of brede.

1703. Fuller’s Trip to Bridewell, quoted in Ashton’s The Fleet, p. 211. The whipper began to noint me with his instrument, that had, I believe, about a dozen strings notted at the end.

1748. Smollett, Rod. Random, ch. v. ‘I’ll bring him to the gangway, and anoint him with a cat-and-nine-tails.’

1824. W. Irving, Tales of a Trav., II., 287. Seize a trusty staff and anoint the back of the aggressor.

There seems to be some connection, too, between this sense of to anoint, and the depraved use of anointed (q.v.) to signify great rascality. Cf., Strap oil.

Anoint or Grease the Palm, verb. phr. (common).—To bribe. The Scotch say ‘to creesh the luif.’ The expression is very old.

1584. Knox, Hist. of Reformation, works [1846] I., 102. Yea, the handis of our Lordis so liberallie were anoynted.

See Grease the palm.

Anointed, ppl. adj. (old).—1. Used in a depraved sense to signify eminence in rascality. The most probable derivation appears to be that suggested by Prof. Skeat [N. and Q., 3 S., ix., 422]. In a French MS., Romance of Melusine, is an account of a man who had received a thorough and severe beating, which is thus referred to:—Qui anoit este si bien oignt. The English version [Early English Text Society] translates this, ‘which so well was anoynted indeed.’ From this it is clear that to anoint a man was to give him a sound drubbing, and that the word was so used in the fifteenth century. Thus, an anointed rogue means either one who has been well thrashed or who has deserved to be. Cf., To anoint.

1769. Robertson, Hist. of Reign of Charles V. Many assumed the clerical character for no other reason than that it might screen them from the punishment which their actions deserved. The German nobles complained loudly that their anointed malefactors, as they called them, seldom suffered capitally even for the most enormous crimes.

1825. Scott, St. Ronan’s Well, ch. xxxvii. ‘But, not being Lord Etherington, and an anointed scoundrel into the bargain, I will content myself with cudgelling him to death.’

2. Knowing; ripe for mischief.—Duncombe.

Anonyma, subs. (popular).—A lady of the demi-monde; generally, though not invariably, applied to one of the better class. Women of this status were also called by the Times pretty horsebreakers, a notorious anonyma (circa 1868) having been a good horsewoman. Another and earlier name was Incognita; this as well as anonyma had reference to the unrecognised position these ladies hold in what is called ‘Society,’ which tries to shut its eyes to a product of its own vice. The French cocotte best corresponds to the English term. For synonyms generally, see Barrack hack.

1864. G. A. Sala, Quite Alone, ch. i. Is that anonyma driving twin ponies in a low phaeton, a parasol attached to her whip, and a groom with folded arms behind her? Bah! there are so many anonymas nowadays. If it isn’t the Nameless One herself, it is Synonyma.

1865. Ouida, Strathmore, ch. vi. ‘I’m getting tired of Mondes, one confounds so easily with Demi-monde, and aristocrats that are so near allied to anonyma.’

1881. Doran, In and about Drury Lane, vol. II., p. 159. Those anonymas, who dress with such exquisite propriety lest they should be mistaken for modest women.

1889. Modern Society, July 13, p. 852. ‘Christopher’s Honeymoon,’ by Mr. Malcolm Watson, produced at the Strand, on Wednesday, is not wholly bad, but it is too thin. The honeymooner is surprised at his wedding breakfast by the news that a former wife, whom he thought dead, is still alive. Matters are still further complicated when his mother-in-law mistakes his buxom laundress for a fair anonyma.

Another. You’re another, phr. (common).—A retort—in usage hardly courteous or suave. Generally spoken in anger or resentment. The quotations which follow specify clearly the manner of use. It is interesting to note how very old is this common rejoinder—nearly 350 years; it is, moreover, an example which fully illustrates the value of the historical method in dealing with slang words and phrases.

c. 1534. N. Udall, Roister Doister, III., v., p. 58 (Arber). R. Royster. If it were another but thou, it were a tenane. M. Mery. Ye are an other your selfe, sir. [M.]

1750. Fielding, Tom Jones, bk. IX., ch. vi. ‘You mistake me, friend,’ cries Partridge, ‘I did not mean to abuse the cloth; I only said your conclusion was a non-sequitur.’ ‘You are another,’ cries the Serjeant, ‘an’ you come to that. No more a sequitur than yourself.’

1836. Dickens, Pickwick, ch. xv., p. 123. ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, ‘you’re a fellow.’ ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘you’re another.’

1888. Sir W. Harcourt, Speech at Eighty Club, Feb. 21. You know the little urchins in the street have a conclusive argument. They say ‘you’re another.’

Another Acrobat, phr. (music-hall).—Another drink—acrobat being a play upon the word ‘tumbler,’ i.e., a glass.

Another Guess, adj., or Another Guess Sort of Man, phr. (old). A cute man; one who is, in modern lingo, up to snuff (q.v.). ‘Guess’ suggests an erroneous derivation; the word is really a corruption of ‘another-gates’ [according to Murray the original genitive case ‘of another-gate, i.e., of another way, manner, or fashion’].

Another Lie Nailed to the Counter, phr. (American).—A detected slander. The practice of nailing spurious coins to shop counters is, even yet, not an obsolete custom in country districts; and hence, probably, is derived this colloquialism.

1888. Texas Siftings, Oct. 20. ‘Who employed you last?’ ‘A Republican speaker, who had me back up his declaration that Cleveland was in the habit of beating his wife!’ ‘But that lie was nailed a good while ago.’ ‘I know it,’ chuckled the C.L., ‘but it’s easy enough to pull out the nail.’

Antagonise, verb. (sporting).—This, ‘to act as an opponent,’ sounds very like slang; but, as a matter of fact, so long as the antagonising forces are of the same kind the word is legitimate enough. It has been so used from 1634 downwards, by Herbert, Keats, John Stuart Mill, and others. Only when (as for example in America a person in political phraseology is said to antagonise a measure when it is meant that he opposes it) the word is used in connection with antagonistic forces not of a kind can it be regarded as partaking of slang. In the quotation by Barrère from the Saturday Review (no date given: refer, however, to Sat. R., Dec. 18, 1886, p. 799) the word is used in a perfectly correct manner.

1886. Saturday Review on Sporting Slang, 18 Dec, p. 799, col. 1. Dingley Dell sent Jones and Robinson to the wickets, where they were antagonised with the leather by Alf and the Young Phenomenon.

Anthony, or To Cuff Anthony, verb. (old).—To knock one’s knees together from an infirmity. Also called to cuff Jonas.

Antony, or Anthony Cuffin, subs.—A knock-kneed man.

Anthony, or Tantony Pig, subs. (old).—See Tantony pig.

1787. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. The favourite or smallest pig in the litter; to follow like a tantony pig, i.e., St. Anthony’s pig, signified to follow close at one’s heels. St. Anthony, the hermit, was a swine herd, and is always represented with his bell and pig.

Antimony, subs. (printers’).—Type; so called from one of its component parts.

Anyhow. Anyhow you can fix it, phr. (American).—A slang expression of acquiescence as, e.g., ‘I don’t know if you’ll succeed, but anyhow you can fix it.’

Any Other Man! phr. (American).—A call to order addressed to prosy, discursive speakers when they give themselves over to the use of synonymous terms.

Any Racket, subs. (rhyming slang).—A penny faggot.

Anything. Like, or as anything, adv. phr. (common).—A vulgarism rather than slang. Used in the same manner, as are like one o’clock; like old boots (q.v.), when a person is at a loss for a simile.—See Winkey.

1542. Udall’s Erasmus Apoph., p. 32. The young maiden, where the lokers on quaked and trembled for feare, daunced without any feare at all emong sweardes and kniues, beyng as sharpe as anythyng.

1740. Richardson, Pamela, ii., 57. O my dear father and mother, I fear your girl will grow as proud as anything.

1840. Barham, I. L. (Misadv. at Margate).

The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring,

His bosom throbb’d with agony, he cried like anything.

1878. Carroll, Through a Looking Glass, iv., 73. They wept like anything to see such quantities of sand.

Anythingarian, subs. (common).—A contemptuous term for one who is apathetic as regards his political or religious creed, or other matters upon which mankind generally hold decided views. [From anything + arian, after trinit-arian, unit-arian.]

1717. Entertainer, Nov. 6 [quoted in N. & Q., 7 S., vi., 66]. Nor, which is ten times worse, Free-thinkers, Atheists, Anythingarians.

1738. Swift, Polite Conversation (conv. i.).

Lady Sm. What religion is he of?

Lady Sp. Why, he is an anythingarian.

Lady Ans. I believe he has his religion to chuse, my lord.

1849. C. Kingsley, Alton Locke, ch. xxii. They made puir Robbie Burns an anythingarian with their blethers.

Anythingarianism, subs. (popular).—The creed or doctrine of an Anythingarian.—[See preceding].

1851. C. Kingsley (Life, i., 215). Schiller’s ‘Gods of Greece’ expresses, I think, a tone of feeling very common, and which finds its vent in modern Neo-Platonism—Anythingarianism.

Anything Else.—See Not doing anything else.

Anywhere Down There! (tailors’).—If, in a workroom or elsewhere where tailors congregate, an article is dropped upon the floor, anywhere down there! is used as a kind of catch-phrase.

Apartments. To have apartments to let, verb. phr. (popular).—1. To take rank in the estimation of one’s fellows as an idiot; ‘a born fool’—one who is empty-headed, not furnished with brains.

English Synonyms. To be dotty; to have a screw loose; to be balmy; to have a bee in one’s bonnet (Scotch); to be off one’s chump; to have no milk in the cocoa-nut; to be touched; to be balmy in one’s crumpet; to be wrong in the upper storey; to have rats in the upper storey; to have a tile loose; to be half baked.

French Synonyms. Avoir une écrevisse dans la tourte, or dans le vol-au-vent (popular: that is ‘to have a crawfish in the pie,’ or ‘in the head.’ Cf., ‘to have rats in the upper storey’); avoir la boule détraquée (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s ball turned’); avoir le coco félé (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s cocoa nut cracked.’ In English slang the head is also called a ‘cocoa-nut’); avoir le trognon détraquée (popular: ‘to have a bee in one’s bonnet.’ Trognon is also a slang term for the head or ‘noddle’); avoir un asticot dans la noisette (popular: lit. ‘to have a maggot in one’s nut.’ In English slang the head is likewise ‘the nut.’ Cf., also the expression ‘a worm in the bud’); avoir un bœuf gras dans le char (popular); avoir un cancrelat dans la boule (popular: lit. ‘to have a cockroach in one’s ball’—‘ball’ here referring to the head or ‘nut.’ Cancrelat is properly kakerlac or American cockroach); avoir un hanneton dans le reservoir (popular: lit. ‘to have a May-bug’ or ‘cockchafer in one’s cistern’ or ‘well.’ This seems to be on all fours with ‘a bee in one’s bonnet.’ The phrase sometimes runs avoir un hanneton dans le plafond, i.e., to have a cockchafer in one’s ceiling, and here the analogy between the two phrases is more clearly marked); avoir un moustique dans la boite au sel (popular: lit. ‘to have a mosquito in the salt-box or cellar’); avoir un voyageur dans l’omnibus (popular); avoir une araignée dans le plafond (popular: lit. ‘to have a spider in the head’; plafond, ‘a ceiling,’ be it noted is a slang term for ‘the head’); avoir une grenouille dans l’aquarium (popular: lit: ‘to have a frog in one’s aquarium’); avoir une hirondelle dans le soliveau (popular: ‘to have a swallow in the head’); avoir une Marseillaise dans le Kiosque (popular); avoir une punaise dans le soufflet (popular: ‘to have a bug in one’s brain’); avoir une sardine dans l’armoire à glace (popular: ‘to have a sardine in the head or brain.’ Armoire à glace = the head); avoir une trichinne dans le jambonneau (popular: jambonneau, the head); avoir une sauterelle dans la guitare (popular: lit. ‘to have a grasshopper in the guitar’).

For other synonyms, see Tile loose.

2. A widow is said to have apartments to let.

Ape-leader, subs. (old).—An old maid. Leading apes in hell was the employment jocularly assigned to those who neglected to assume marital functions while living.

1581. Lyly, Euphucs (Arb.), 87. Rather thou shouldest leade a lyfe to thine owne lyking in earthe, than … leade apes in hell. [M.]

1605. Lond. Prodigal, I., 2. ’Tes an old proverb, and you know it well, that women dying maids lead apes in hell.

1717. Mrs. Centlivre, Bold Stroke, II., 1. Poor girl; she must certainly lead apes, as the saying is.

1830. General P. Thompson, Exerc. (1842), I., 198. Joining with other old women, in leading their apes in Tartarus. [M.]

There are several proverbial sayings in which the ape plays an important part. To say an ape’s paternoster is to chatter with cold; this corresponds with the French, dire des patenôtres de singe. To put an ape into one’s hood or cap, to make a fool of one, etc.

Apes, subs. (Stock Exchange).—Atlantic and North-Western Railway first mortgage bonds.

Apostles, or The Twelve Apostles, subs. phr. (Cambridge Univ.).—Formerly, when the Poll, or ordinary B.A. degree list was arranged in order of merit, the last twelve were nicknamed The Twelve Apostles. They were also called The Chosen Twelve, and the last, St. Poll or St. Paul—a punning allusion to 1 Cor. xv., 9, ‘For I am the least of the Apostles, that am not meet to be called an Apostle.’ The list is now arranged alphabetically and in classes. Hotten suggests that Apostles is a corruption of post alios, i.e., ‘after the others.’ It may perhaps also be mentioned that in one American University at least, Columbia College, D.C., the last twelve on the B.A. list actually receive the personal names of the Apostles.

1795. Gentleman’s Magazine, Jan., p. 19. [The last twelve names on the Cambridge list are here called The Twelve Apostles.]

Manœuvering the Apostles, a variant of the familiar expression, ‘to rob Peter to pay Paul’; i.e., to borrow from one person to pay another.

Apostle’s Grove, subs. (common).—The London district known as St. John’s Wood. Also called grove of the evangelist. Both names are applied sarcastically in allusion to the large numbers of the demi-monde who live in that quarter of town.

Apothecary. To talk like an apothecary, verb phr. (old).—To talk nonsense; from the pseudo gravity and affectation of knowledge often assumed by these gentlemen at a time when their status was not legally held under examination and license of the Apothecaries’ Company.

Apothecaries’ bill, subs. (old).—A long bill.

Apothecaries’, or raw Latin, subs. (old).—Now called dog-Latin (q.v.).

Apple Cart, subs. (common). 1. The human body. A slang term similar to ‘potato trap,’ ‘bread-basket,’ ‘bellows,’ ‘blue plumb,’ ‘bacon,’ and ‘beer-barrel’ (all of which see). There are numerous variations in usage; e.g., if two men are quarrelling, and a friend of one interferes saying ‘I will upset his apple cart’ it means, ‘while you are parleying with the enemy I will knock him down.’ Again, if a child falls down, says W. W. Skeat (referring to his early Kentish remembrance of the word), you first enquire if he is much hurt. If he is merely a little frightened you say, ‘Well, never mind, then; you’ve only upset your apple cart and spilt the gooseberries.’ The child laughs and all is well again.

2. Also employed in a figurative sense. To upset an apple cart sometimes means, not so much to knock a man down, as to prevent him from doing what he wants to do by the upsetting as it were, of an imaginary apple cart; i.e., to thwart; to disarrange; to overthrow; to ruin an undertaking. Sometimes the expression is varied by to upset the old woman’s apple cart. Barrère’s reference of the genesis of the phrase to the costermonger’s imaginative powers is ‘all conjecture and fancy’; as also is his American derivation of the expression in its more figurative sense. In the first place apple carts are perfectly familiar objects in all country districts; and, in the second, the phrase is too old a provincialism to need deriving from the peripatetic vendors in question. Further, though to upset his apple cart and spill the peaches may be an American variation for the second sense, as it appears to have been so used, dialectically, throughout England, the weight of assumption must be given to its English origin, and subsequent transference to America.

English Synonyms. Beer-barrel; bacon.

French Synonyms. Acabit (literally, quality); cylindre (popular: lit. ‘a cylinder,’ or ‘barrel.’ Cf. with English ‘beer barrel’); grosse caisse (popular: lit. ‘a large case,’ or ‘box’); paillasse (popular: lit. ‘a straw mattress’); also place d’armes; casaquin.

Apple Dumpling Shop, subs. phr. (common).—A woman’s bosom. For synonyms, see Dairies.

Apple-Monger.—The same as apple-squire (q.v.).

Apple-Pie Bed, subs. phr. (common).—A practical joke, which consists in making up a bed with the sheets doubled half way up, so as to prevent a person from stretching out at full length, and filling the bag thus formed with brushes, soap-dishes, etc. So called, either from the apple-turnover, in which the ‘paste’ is turned over the apples, or from the French, à plis, folded.

1811. C. K. Sharpe, in Correspondence (1888), i., 466. After squeezing myself up, and making a sort of apple-pye bed with the beginning of my sheet.

1883. Saturday Review, Nov. 3, p. 566, col. 2. Some ‘evil-disposed persons’ have already visited his room, made his bed into an apple-pie, plentifully strewn with hair-brushes and razors.

The French have an analogous phrase, ‘mettre un lit en portefeuille.’

Apple-Pie Day, subs. phr. (Winchester Coll.)—The day on which Six-and-Six (q.v.) is played. It is the Thursday after the first Tuesday in December. So called because hot apple-pies were served on gomers (q.v.) in College for dinner.

Apple Pie Order, subs. phr. (familiar).—Exact or perfect order. Etymologists have long puzzled themselves concerning this expression, and many derivations have been put forward in explanation. Some have found in it an allusion to the regular order in which the component parts of some varieties of that toothsome delicacy, apple pie, were formerly laid one on the top of, or side by side with each other. Others, on the contrary, scout such a homely origin, and suggest that apple pie order is cap à pied order. The authorities who incline to this view point out that cap à pied in the sense of ‘perfectly appointed’ occurs in one of the scenes of Hamlet. Though orthographically the transition from one to the other, at first sight, would appear to be somewhat lame and halting, yet phonetically the difference is much less marked. It has further been suggested that apple pie order is a corruption of ‘Alpha-beta’ i.e., alphabetical order, but this would seem rather far-fetched, as also is the reference of it to the nursery rhyme of ‘A was an apple pie; B bit it; C cut it; D divided it,’ and so on, the allusion being to the regular order in which the letters of the alphabet occur. Probably the weight of evidence is on the side of the derivation from cap à pied, more especially as that phrase was once very familiar.

1813. Scott in Lochart, Life, IV. (1839), 131. The children’s garden is in apple pie order.

1835. Marryat, Jacob Faithful, viii., 29. Put the craft a little into apple pie order.

1837. Barham, I. L. (Old Woman in Grey).

I am just in the order which some folks—though why,

I am sure I can’t tell you—would call apple pie.

Apples. How we apples swim! phr. (common).—i.e., ‘What a good time we are having.’ This expression, a very old one, is synonymous with pleasureable experience coupled with brisk action.

1697–1764. Hogarth (Works by J. Ireland and J. Nichols, London, 1873), III., p. 29. And even this, little as it is, gives him so much importance in his own eyes, that he assumes a consequential air, sets his arms akimbo, and strutting among the historical artists cries, ‘how we apples swim.’

1860. Cornhill Mag. (D. Mallett, Tyburn), Dec., p. 737. While tumbling down the turbid stream, Lord, love us, how we apples swim.

Apples and Pears, subs. phr. (rhyming slang).—A pair of stairs.

Apple-Squire, subs. (old).—A harlot’s attendant, or fancy man (q.v.); these gentry are now commonly called ‘bullies’ (q.v.). Nares gives ‘squire of the body’ as a synonymous term; also apron-squire.

1500. (circa) Way to Spyttel Hous, 832 in Hazl. E. P. P., iv., 60. [Here given as applesquyers.]

[1580–1654] Taylor, Discourse by Sea (works II., 21).

Are whoremasters decai’d, are bawds all dead,

Are pandars, pimps, and apple-squires all fled? [N.]

1738. Poor Robin.… Little truth will be found amongst cut-purses, liars, bawds, whores, pimps, pandars, and apple-squires; only the pimp pretends to something more of truth than the other, for if he promise to help you to a whore, he will be sure that she shall not be an honest woman. [N.]

For synonyms, ancient and modern, and also foreign equivalents, see Fancy man.

Apron. Green apron, subs. (old).—A contemptuous term for a lay preacher.—See Bible-pounder.

1654. Warren, Unbelievers, 145. It more befits a green-apron preacher, than such a Gamaliel. [M.]

1705. Hickeringill, Priestcraft I. (1721). 21. Unbeneficed Noncons. (that live by Alms and no Paternoster, no Penny, say the green-aprons). [M.]

1765. Tucker, Lt. Nat., II., 451. The gifted priestess amongst the Quakers is known by her green apron. [M.]

Aproneer, subs. (old).—A shop-keeper; a tradesman. Murray states that the term was used contemptuously of the Parliamentary party during the Civil Wars.

1659. Gauden, Tears of Church, 238. Some prating sequestrator, or some surly aproneer.

1690. D’urfey, Collin’s Walk, c. iii., p. 107. But every sturdy aproneer, arm’d with battoon, did straight appear.

Apron-Rogue, subs. (old).—A labourer; a mechanic.

1663. Killegrew, Parson’s Wedding in Dodsley’s Old Plays (1780), XI., 382. Apron-rogues with horn hands. [M.]

Apron-Squire.—See Apple-squire.

Apron-String Hold or Tenure, subs. phr. (familiar).—An estate held by a man during his wife’s life; or by virtue of her right.

1647. Ward, Simp. Cobler, 67. Apron-string tenure is very weak. [M.]

1753. Richardson, Grandison, iv., 23. He cursed the apron-string tenure, by which he said he held his peace. [d.]

1804. Mrs. Barbauld, Richardson I., 160. All her fortune in her own power—a very apron-string tenure.

Apron-Strings. To be tied to or always at a woman’s apron-strings, verb. phr. (common).—Under petticoat government; to dangle after a woman. Formerly said only of children; later of all who follow a woman subserviently.

1712. Spectator, No. 506. The fair sex are so conscious to themselves, that they have nothing in them which can deserve entirely to ingross the whole man, that they heartily despise one, who, to use their own expression, is always hanging at their apron-strings.

1834. Miss Edgeworth, Helen, ch. viii. A homebred lordling, who, from the moment he slipped his mother’s apron-strings, had fallen into folly.

1849. Macaulay, History of England, II., 649. He could not submit to be tied to the apron-strings even of the best of wives.

Aqua, subs. (American thieves’).—Water. From the Latin.

Aqua Pompaginis, subs. phr. (old).—Pump water [Dog-Latin; from L., aqua, water + English, pump + simulated Latin termination, aginis].

1785. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. Aqua Pompaginis.… Apothecaries’ Latin.

1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 13. ‘Exactly my sentiments,’ rejoined Blueskin. ‘I wouldn’t force him for the world; but if he don’t tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don’t get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. Let’s have a look at the kinchen that ought to have been throttled,’ added he, snatching the child from Wood. ‘My stars! here’s a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about—ho ho!’

1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 15. ‘He shall go through the whole course,’ replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin, ‘unless he comes down to the last grig. We’ll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis.’

For synonyms, see Adam’s ale.

Aquatics, subs. (Eton college).—The particular game of cricket in which men in the boats play.

Aqua-Vitæ, subs. (old).—Formerly an alchemic term; but, after a while, popularly received as a generic name for ardent spirits, such as brandy, whiskey, etc. [From L. = water of life. Cf., French eau-de-vie, and Irish usquebaugh.]

Arabs, subs. (common).—Nicknames for young street vagrants are numerous. They are ‘Bedouins,’ ‘Street Arabs,’ and ‘Juvenile Roughs’ in London; they are ‘Gamins’ in Paris; ‘Bowery Boys’ in New York; ‘Hoodlums’ in San Francisco; and ‘Larrikins’ in Melbourne. This last phrase is an Irish constable’s broad pronunciation of ‘larking,’ applied to the nightly street performances of these young scamps, there, as elsewhere, a real social pestilence.—See Street Arab.

1848. Guthrie, Plea for Ragged Schools. [In this work the homeless wanderers and children of the streets were spoken of as Arabs of the City, and City Arabs.]