Part 1

Transcriber’s Note

In this text version of “Argot and Slang”: words in italics are marked with _underscores_, words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.

In the body of the dictionary, the words being defined, originally printed in bold, are shown in UPPER CASE, and the authors of quotations, originally printed in small capitals, are marked with equals signs and shown in =UPPER CASE=.

Footnotes have been moved to the end of the poem or extract in which they occur.

Variant spelling and use of accents, inconsistent hyphenation and capitalization are retained, as are English words spelt in the French manner. There are many words with irregular placing of the apostrophe in possessive plurals (e.g. womens', Fishermens') these have not been changed.

The changes that have been made are listed at the end of the book.

ARGOT AND SLANG

A NEW FRENCH AND ENGLISH DICTIONARY

OF THE

CANT WORDS, QUAINT EXPRESSIONS, SLANG TERMS AND FLASH PHRASES

USED IN THE HIGH AND LOW LIFE OF OLD AND NEW PARIS

BY

ALBERT BARRÈRE

OFFICIER DE L’INSTRUCTION PUBLIQUE

_NEW AND REVISED EDITION_

LONDON

WHITTAKER AND CO., WHITE HART STREET PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1889

PREFACE.

The publication of a dictionary of French cant and slang demands some explanation from the author. During a long course of philological studies, extending over many years, I have been in the habit of putting on record, for my own edification, a large number of those cant and slang terms and quaint expressions of which the English and French tongues furnish an abundant harvest. Whatever of this nature I heard from the lips of persons to whom they are familiar, or gleaned from the perusal of modern works and newspapers, I carefully noted down, until my note-book had assumed such dimensions that the idea of completing a collection already considerable was suggested. It was pointed out to me, as an inducement to venture on so arduous an undertaking, that it must prove, from its very nature, not only an object of curiosity and interest to the lover of philological studies and the public at large, but also one of utility to the English reader of modern French works of fiction. The fact is not to be ignored that the chief works of the so-called Naturalistic School do certainly find their way to this country, where they command a large number of readers. These productions of modern French fiction dwell with complaisance on the vices of society, dissect them patiently, often with power and talent, and too often exaggerate them. It is not within my province to pass a judgment upon their analytical study of all that is gross in human nature. But, from a philological point of view, the men and women whom they place as actors on the stage of their human comedy are interesting, whatever they may be in other respects. Some of them belong to the very dregs of society, possessing a language of their own, forcible, picturesque, and graphic. This language sometimes embodies in a single word a whole train of philosophical ideas, and is dashed with a grim humour, with a species of wit which not often misses the mark. Moreover, these labourers, roughs, street arabs, thieves, and worse than thieves--these Coupeaus, Bec-Salés, Mes-Bottes, Lantiers--are not the sole possessors of a vernacular which, to a certain extent, is the exponent of their idiosyncrasies. Slang has invaded all classes of society, and is often used for want of terms sufficiently strong or pointed to convey the speaker’s real feelings. It seems to be resorted to in order to make up for the shortcomings of a well-balanced and polished tongue, which will not lend itself to exaggeration and violence of utterance. Journalists, artists, politicians, men of fashion, soldiers, even women talk _argot_, sometimes unawares, and these as well as the lower classes are depicted in the Naturalistic novel. Now, although the study of French is daily acquiring more and more importance in England, the professors of that language do not as a rule initiate their pupils--and very naturally so--into the mysteries of the vernacular of the highest and lowest strata of society, into the cynical but pithy and humorous jargon of the _voyou_ from the heights of Montmartre or Ménilmontant, nor even into the lisping twaddle of the languid _gommeux_ who lolls on the Boulevard des Italiens. Hence English readers of _L’Assommoir_ and other similar works find themselves puzzled at every line, and turn in vain for assistance to their dictionaries. The present volume aims at filling the vacant space on the shelves of all who read for something besides the passing of an idle hour. An _English slang equivalent_ of the _English rendering_ has been inserted whenever that was possible, and because the meaning of a term is better conveyed by examples, as many quotations as the limits of the _Dictionary_ would admit have been reproduced from different authors.

A few words on the manner in which the work has been compiled are due to the reader. In order to complete my own private information, specially with reference to old cant, I have drawn as freely as seemed to me legitimate on works of a similar character--Michel’s, Delvau’s, Rigaud’s, Lorédan Larchey’s excellent _Dictionnaire Historique d’Argot_, Vilatte’s _Parisismen_, a very complete work on French _argot_ rendered into German. But by far the most important portion of my collection has been gathered from Vidocq’s productions, Balzac’s works, _The Memoirs of Monsieur Claude_, formerly superintendent of the detective department in Paris, and from other works to be mentioned hereafter. To an inspector of the detective force in Paris, Monsieur Lagaillarde, I am indebted for many of the terms of the phraseology used by the worthies with whom his functions have brought him in contact.

Again, newspapers of both countries have also brought in their contingent, but the most interesting sources of information, as being the most original, have been workpeople, soldiers, pickpockets, and other malefactors having done their “time,” or likely to be “wanted” at a short notice. The members of the light-fingered gentry were not easily to be got at, as their natural suspicions precluded their realizing at once my object, and it required some diplomacy and pains to succeed in enlisting their services. In one particular instance I was deprived of my informants in a rather summary manner. Two brothers, members of a family which strongly reminded one of E. Sue’s Martials, inasmuch as the father had mounted the scaffold, the mother was in prison, and other members had met with similar accidents, had volunteered to become my collaborators, and were willing to furnish information the more valuable, it seemed to me, as coming from such distinguished individuals. Unfortunately for the _Dictionary_ the brothers were apprehended when coming to my rendez-vous, and are now, I believe, far on their way to the penal settlement of New Caledonia.

I have to thank numerous correspondents, French and English officers, journalists, and artists, for coming to my assistance and furnishing me with valuable information. My best thanks are due also to M. Godefroy Durand for his admirable etching.

As regards the English part, I am considerably indebted to the _Slang Dictionary_ published by Messrs. Chatto and Windus, to the _History and Curious Adventures of Bampfylde-Moore Carew, King of the Mendicants_, as well as to the various journals of the day, and to verbal inquiries among all classes of people.

I have not attempted, except in a few cases, to trace the origin of words, as an etymological history of cant would be the work of a lifetime.

It is somewhat difficult to know exactly where to draw the line, and to decide whether a word belongs to slang or should be rejected. I have been guided on this point by Littré, and any terms mentioned by him as having passed into the language I have discarded. I have introduced a small number of what might be termed eccentricities of language, which, though not strictly slang, deserve recording on account of their quaintness. To the English reader I need not, I trust, apologize for not having recoiled, in my desire for completeness, before certain unsavoury terms, and for having thus acted upon Victor Hugo’s recommendation, “Quand la chose est, dites le mot.”

AUTHORITIES CONSULTED AND QUOTED.

_About_ (Edmond). Trente et Quarante. Paris.

_Almanach Chantant_, 1869.

_Amusemens à la Grecque_ ou les Soirées de la Halle par un ami de feu Vadé. Paris, 1764.

_Amusemens rapsodi-poétiques._ 1773.

_Apothicaire (l’) empoisonné_, dans les Maistres d’Hostel aux Halles. 1671.

_Audebrand_ (Philibert). Petits Mémoires d’une Stalle d’Orchestre. Paris, 1885.

_Balzac_ (Honoré de). La Cousine Bette. --La dernière Incarnation de Vautrin. --La Physiologie du Mariage. --Les Chouans. --Le Père Goriot. Paris, 1884.

_Banville_ (Théodore de). La Cuisinière poétique.

_Bonnetain_ (Paul). L’Opium. Paris, 1886. --Au Tonkin. Paris, 1885.

_Boutmy_ (Eugène). Dictionnaire de l’Argot des Typographes. Paris, 1883.

_Brantome_ (Pierre de). Vie des Dames galantes. Paris, 1822.

_Canler_. Mémoires. Paris.

_Caylus_ (Comte de). Les Ecosseuses ou les Œufs de Pâques. 1739.

_Champfleury_. La Mascarade de la Vie parisienne.

_Chatillon_ (Auguste de). Poésies. Paris, 1866.

_Cim_ (Albert). Institution de Demoiselles. Paris, 1887.

_Citrons_ (les) de Javotte. Histoire de Carnaval. Amsterdam, 1756.

_Claude_. Mémoires. Paris.

_Courteline_ (Georges). Les Gaîtés de l’Escadron. Paris, N. D.

_Daudet_ (Alphonse). Les Rois en Exil. Paris, 1886.

_Debans_ (Camille). Histoire de tous les Diables. Paris, 1882.

_Delcourt_ (Pierre). Paris Voleur. Paris, 1887.

_Delvau_. La Langue Verte. Paris.

_Drapeau (le) de la mère Duchesne_ contre les fâcheux et les intrigants. Paris, 1792.

_Dubut de Laforest_. Le Gaga. Paris, 1886.

_France_ (Hector). Le Roman du Curé. Bruxelles, 1877. --L’Homme qui tue. Bruxelles, 1878. --_Préface_ de Par devant Notaire. Bruxelles, 1880. --L’Amour au Pays Bleu. Londres, 1885. --Le Péché de Sœur Cunégonde. Paris, N. D. --Marie-Queue-de-Vache. Paris, N. D. --Les Va-nu-pieds de Londres. Paris, 1885. --La Pudique Albion. Paris, 1885. --Les Nuits de Londres. Paris, 1885. --Sous le Burnous. Paris, 1886. --_Préface_ du Pays des Brouillards. Paris, 1886. --Londres illustré. Paris, 1886. --La Pucelle de Tebessa. Paris, 1887. --L’Armée de John Bull. Paris, 1887. --A Travers l’Espagne. Paris, 1887.

_Frébault_ (Elie). La Vie de Paris: guide pittoresque et pratique du visiteur. Paris, 1878.

_Frison_ (Gustave). Aventures du Colonel Ronchonot. Paris, 1886.

_Gaboriau_ (Emile). Monsieur Lecoq. Paris, 1885.

_Gautier_ (Théophile). Les Jeune-France. Paris, 1885.

_Gavarni_. Les Gens de Paris. Paris.

_Génin_ (F.). Récréations philologiques. Paris, 1858.

_Gennes_ (Charles Dubois de). Le Troupier tel qu’il est à cheval. Paris, 1862.

_Gill_ (André). La Muse à Bibi. Paris, N. D.

_Goncourt_ (E. de). La Fille Elisa. Paris.

_Grandval_. Le Vice puni ou Cartouche.

_Gyp_. Le plus heureux de tous. Paris, 1886.

_Hugo_ (Victor). Le dernier Jour d’un Condamné. --Les Misérables. --Claude Gueux.

_Humbert_ (A.). Mon Bagne.

_Huysmans_. Les Sœurs Vatard. Marthe. Paris.

_Kapp_ (E.). La Joie des Pauvres. Paris, 1887.

_Larchey_ (Lorédan). Dictionnaire Historique d’Argot. Paris, 1881.

_Laurin_ (A.). Le Million de l’Ouvrière. Paris, 1887.

_Le Jargon ou Langage de l’Argot réformé._ Epinal, N. D.

_Le Roux_ (Philibert Joseph). Dictionnaire comique, satyrique, critique, burlesque et proverbial. Lyon, 1735.

_Leroy_ (Charles). Guibollard et Ramollot. Paris, N. D.

_Les Premières Œuvres Poétiques du Capitaine Lasphrise._ 1599.

_Macé_ (G.). Mon premier Crime. Paris, 1886.

_Mahalin_ (Paul). Mesdames de Cœur-Volant. Paris, 1886.

_Malot_ (Hector). Baccara. Paris, 1886.

_Merlin_ (Léon). La Langue Verte du Troupier. Paris, 1886.

_Michel_ (Francisque). Dict. d’Argot ou Etudes de Philologie comparée sur l’Argot. Paris, 1856.

_Michel_ (Louise). Les Microbes humains. Paris, 1886.

_Molière_ (Jean Baptiste Poquelin). Œuvres. Paris.

_Monnier_ (Henri). L’Exécution.

_Montaigne_ (Michel de). Œuvres. 1825.

_Monteil_ (Edgar). Cornebois. Paris, 1884.

_Montluc_ (Adrien de). La Comédie des proverbes. 1633.

_Mouillon_ (F.). Déclaration d’amour d’un imprimeur typographe à une jeune brocheuse. Paris, 1886.

_Nadaud_ (Gustave). Chansons populaires. Paris, 1876.

_Nisard_ (Charles). De quelques Parisianismes populaires et autres Locutions. Paris, 1876. --Curiosités de l’Etymologie française. Paris, 1863.

_Nodier_ (Charles). Œuvres.

_Poissardiana (le)._ 1756.

_Poulot_ (Denis). Le Sublime.

_Quellien_ (N.). L’argot des Nomades de la Basse-Bretagne. Paris, 1886.

_Rabelais_ (François). Œuvres. Paris.

_Raccoleurs (les)._ Paris, 1756.

_Riche-en-gueule_ ou le nouveau Vadé. Paris, 1821.

_Richepin_ (Jean). La Chanson des Gueux. Paris, N. D. --Le Pavé. Paris, 1886. --La Glu. Paris, N. D. --La Mer. Paris, 1886. --Les Morts bizarres. Paris, N. D. --Braves Gens. Paris.

_Rigaud_ (Lucien). Dictionnaire d’Argot moderne. Paris, 1881.

_Rigolboche_. Mémoires.

_Scarron_ (Paul). Gigantomachie. Paris, 1737.

_Scholl_ (Aurélien). L’Esprit du Boulevard. Paris, 1887.

_Sermet_ (Julien). Une Cabotine. Paris, 1886.

_Sirven_ (Alfred). Au Pays des Roublards. Paris, 1886.

_Sue_ (Eugène). Les Mystères de Paris. Paris, N. D.

_Tallemant des Réaux_. Historiettes. Paris, 1835.

_Tardieu_. Etude médico-légale sur les attentats aux mœurs.

_Taxil_ (Léo). Histoire de la Prostitution. Paris, N. D.

_Theo-Critt_. Nos Farces à Saumur. Paris, 1884.

_Vidocq_. Mémoires. Paris, 1829. --Les Voleurs. --Les vrais Mystères de Paris.

_Villon_ (François). Œuvres complètes. Paris, N. D.

_Zola_ (Emile). Nana. --L’Assommoir. --Au Bonheur des Dames. Paris, 1885. --La Terre. Paris, 1887.

* * * * *

_Ainsworth_ (W. Harrison). Rookwood. --Jack Sheppard.

_Bampfylde-Moore Carew_ (The History and Curious Adventures of). London, N. D.

_Brome_ (Richard). Joviall Crew; or, The Merry Beggars. 1652.

_Chatto and Windus_. The Slang Dictionary. London, 1885.

_Davies_ (T. Lewis O.). A Supplementary English Glossary. London, 1881.

_Dickens_ (Charles). Works.

_Fielding_ (Henry). Amelia. --The History of the Life of the late Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great. 1886.

_Greenwood_ (James). The Seven Curses of London. --Dick Temple. --Odd People.

_Harman_ (Thomas). Caveat or Warening for Common Cursetors. London, 1568.

_Horsley_ (Rev. J. W.). Autobiography of a Thief, _Macmillan’s Magazine_, 1879. --Jottings from Jail. 1887.

_Kingsley_ (Charles). Westward Ho! 1855. --Two Years Ago.

_Lytton_ (Henry Bulwer). Paul Clifford. --Ernest Maltravers.

_Pascoe_ (C. E.). Every-day Life in our Public Schools. London, N. D.

_Sims_ (G. R.). Rogues and Vagabonds.

* * * * *

_La Marotte._ _La Nation._ _La Vie Parisienne._ _La Vie Populaire._ _Le Clairon._ _Le Cri du Peuple._ _L’Echo de Paris._ _L’Evénement._ _Le Figaro._ _Le Gaulois._ _Le Gil Blas._ _L’Intermédiaire des Chercheurs et Curieux._ _Le Journal Amusant._ _Le Père Duchêne._ 1793. _Le Petit Journal._ _Le Petit Journal pour rire._ _Le Radical._ _Le Tam-Tam._ _Le Voltaire._ _Paris._ _Paris Journal._

* * * * *

_Punch._ _Fun._ _The Globe._ _Funny Folks._ _Judy._ _The Bird o’ Freedom._ _The Sporting Times._ _Evening News._

* * * * *

POPULAR SONGS AND PIECES OF POETRY.

_Barrère_ (Pierre). Le Bœuf rouge et le Bœuf blanc.

_Baumaine et Blondelet_. Les Locutions vicieuses.

_Ben et d’Herville_. Ou’s qu’est ma Pip’lette.

_Bois_ (E. du). C’est Pitanchard. --De la Bastille à Montparnasse.

_Burani et Buquet_. La Chanson du Gavroche.

_Carré_. J’ai mon Coup d’feu.

_Clément_. Chanson.

_Dans la chambre de nos abbés_.

_Denneville_. Une Tournée de Lurons.

_Garnier_ (L.). Y a plus moyen d’rigoler.

_La Chanson du Bataillon d’Afrique._

_Lamentations du portier d’en face._

_Maginn_ (Dr.). Vidocq’s Song.

_Ouvrard_. J’suis Fantassin.

_Queyriaux_. Va donc, eh, Fourneau!

_The Leary Man._

_The Sandman’s Wedding._

INTRODUCTION.

Argot pervades the whole of French society. It may be heard everywhere, and it is now difficult to peruse a newspaper or open a new novel without meeting with a sprinkling of some of the jargon dialects of the day. These take their rise in the slums, on the boulevards, in workshops, barracks, and studios, and even in the lobbies of the Houses of Legislature. From the beggar to the diplomatist, every class possesses its own vernacular, borrowed more or less from its special avocations. The language of the dangerous classes, which so often savours of evil or bloody deeds, of human suffering, and also of the anguish and fears of the ever-tracked and ever-watchful criminal, though often disguised under a would-be humorous garb, cannot but be interesting to the philosopher. “Everybody,” says Charles Nodier, “must feel that there is more ingenuity in argot than in algebra itself, and that this quality is due to the power it possesses of making language figurative and graphic. With algebra, only calculations can be achieved; with argot, however ignoble and impure its source, a nation and society might be renovated.... Argot is generally formed with ability because it is the outcome of the urgent necessities of a class of men not lacking in brains.... The jargon of the lower classes, which is due to the inventive genius of thieves, is redundant with sparkling wit, and gives evidence of wonderfully imaginative powers.”

If criminals are odious, they are not always vulgar, and a study of their mode of expression possesses certain features of interest. The ordinary slang of the higher strata of French society, as compared with that of the lower classes, being based often on mere distortion of words or misappropriation of meaning, is in many cases vulgar and silly; it casts a stain over a language which has already suffered so much at the hands of the lesser stars of the Naturalistic School. A coarse sentiment, a craving for more violent sensations, will find expression in the jargon of the day. People are no longer content with being astonished, they must be crushed or flattened (épatés), or knocked over (renversés), and so forth; and the silly “on dirait du veau,” repeated _ad nauseam_, seldom fails to raise a laugh. Our English neighbours do not seem to be better off. “So universal,” says a writer in _Household Words_, September 24, 1853, “has the use of slang terms become, that in all societies they are substituted for, and have almost usurped the place of wit. An audience will sit in a theatre and listen to a string of brilliant witticisms with perfect immobility, but let some fellow rush forward and roar out ‘It’s all serene,’ or ‘catch’em alive, oh!’ (this last is sure to take), pit, boxes, and gallery roar with laughter.” It must be said, however, on the other hand, that the slang term is often much more expressive than its corresponding synonym in the ordinary language. Moreover, it is often witty, and capable of suggesting a humorous idea with singular felicity.

Argot is but a bastard tongue grafted on the mother stem, and though it is no easy matter to coin a word that shall remain and take rank among those of any language, yet the field of argot, already so extensive, is ever pushing back its boundaries, the additions surging in together with new ideas, novel fashions, but especially through the necessities of that class of people whose primary interest it is to make themselves unintelligible to their victims, the public, and their enemies, the police. “Argot,” again quoting Nodier’s words, “is an artificial, unsettled tongue, without a syntax properly so called, of which the only object is to disguise under conventional metaphors ideas which are intended to be conveyed to adepts. Consequently its vocabulary must needs change whenever it has become familiar to outsiders, and we find in _Le Jargon de l’Argot Réformé_ curious traces of a like revolution. In every country the men who speak a cant language belong to the lowest, most contemptible stratum of society, but its study, if looked upon as an outcome of the intellect, presents important features, and synoptic tables of its synonyms might prove interesting to the linguist.”

The use of argot in works of any literary pretensions is of modern introduction. However, Villon, the famous poet of the fifteenth century, a _vaurien_ whose misdeeds had wellnigh brought him to the gallows, as he informs us:--

Je suis François, dont ce me poise, Né de Paris emprès Ponthoise, Or, d’une corde d’une toise, Saura mon col que mon cul poise--

Villon himself has given, under the title of _Jargon ou Jobelin de Maistre François Villon_, a series of short poems worded in the jargon of the vagabonds and thieves his boon companions, now almost unintelligible.

In our days Eugène Sue, Balzac, and Victor Hugo have introduced argot in some of their works, taking, no doubt, Vidocq as an authority on the subject; while more recently M. Jean Richepin, in his _Chanson des Gueux_, rhymes in the lingo of roughs, bullies, vagabonds, and thieves; and many others have followed suit. Balzac thus expresses his admiration for argot: “People will perhaps be astonished if we venture to assert that no tongue is more energetic, more picturesque than the tongue of that subterranean world which since the birth of capitals grovels in cellars, in sinks of vice, in the lowest stage floors of societies. For is not the world a theatre? The lowest stage floor is the ground basement under the stage of the opera house where the machinery, the phantoms, the devils, when not in use, are stowed away. Each word of the language recalls a brutal image, either ingenious or terrible. In the jargon one does not sleep, ‘on pionce.’ Notice with what energy that word expresses the uneasy slumbers of the tracked, tired, suspicious animal called thief, which, as soon as it is in safety, sinks down and rolls into the abysses of deep and necessary sleep, with the powerful wings of suspicion constantly spread over it--an awful repose, comparable to that of the wild beast, which sleeps and snores, but whose ears nevertheless remain ever watchful. Everything is fierce in this idiom. The initial or final syllables of words, the words themselves, are harsh and astounding. A woman is a _largue_. And what poetry! Straw is ‘_la plume de Beauce_.’ The word midnight is rendered by _douze plombes crossent_. Does not that make one shudder?”

Victor Hugo, after Balzac, has devoted a whole chapter to argot in his _Misérables_, and both these great authors have left little to be said on the subject. Victor Hugo, dealing with its Protean character, writes: “Argot being the idiom of corruption, is quickly corrupted. Besides, as it always seeks secrecy, so soon as it feels itself understood it transforms itself.... For this reason argot is subject to perpetual transformation--a secret and rapid work which ever goes on. It makes more progress in ten years than the regular language in ten centuries.”

In spite of the successive revolutions referred to, a number of old cant words are still used in their original form. Some have been, besides, more or less distorted by different processes, the results of these alterations being subjected in their turn to fresh disguises. As for slang proper, it is mostly metaphoric.