Part 2

A large proportion of the vocabulary of argot is to be traced to the early Romance idiom, or to some of our country patois, the offsprings of the ancient Langue d’oc and Langue d’oil. Some of the terms draw their origin from the Italian language and jargon, and were imported by Italian quacks and sharpers. Such are lime (_shirt_), fourline (_thief_), macaronner (_to inform against_), rabouin (_devil_), rif (_fire_), escarpe (_thief_, _murderer_), respectively from lima, forlano, macaronare, rabuino, ruffo, scarpa, some of which belong to the Romany, as lima. The German schlafen has given schloffer, and the Latin fur has provided us with the verb affurer. Several are of Greek parentage: arton (_bread_), from the accusative αρτον; ornie (_fowl_), from ορνις; pier (_to drink_), piolle (_tavern_), pion (_drunk_), from πιεῖν.

The word argot itself, formerly a cant word, but which has now gained admittance into the _Dictionnaire de l’Académie_, is but the corruption of jargon, called by the Italians “lingua gerga,” abbreviated into “gergo,” from which the French word sprang,--gergo itself being derived, according to Salvini, from the Greek ἱερός (_sacred_). Hence lingua gerga, _sacred language_, only known to the initiated. M. Génin thus traces the origin of argot: lingua hiera, then lingua gerga, il gergo; hence jergon or jargon, finally argot. Other philologists have suggested that it comes from the Greek ἀργός, idler; and this learned derivation is not improbable, as, among the members of the “argot”--originally the corporation of pedlars and vagabonds--were scholars like Villon (though there exists no evidence of the word having been used in his time), and runaway priests who had, as the French say, “thrown the cassock to the nettles.” M. Nisard, however, rejects these derivations, and believes that argot comes from _argutus_, pointed, cunning. It seems, in any case, an indubitable fact that the term argot at first was applied only to the confraternity of vagabonds or “argotiers,” and there is no evidence of its having been used before 1698 as an appellation for their language, which till then had been known as “jargon du matois” or “jargon de l’argot.” Grandval, in his _Vice puni ou Cartouche_, offers the following derivation, which must be taken for what it is worth.

Mais à propos d’argot, dit alors Limosin, Ne m’apprendrez-vous pas, vous qui parlez latin, D’où cette belle langue a pris son origine? --De la ville d’Argos, et je l’ai lu dans Pline, Répondit Balagny. Le grand Agamemnon Fit fleurir dans Argos cet éloquent jargon. . . . . . . . . . --Tu dis vrai, Balagny, reprit alors Cartouche; Mais cette langue sort d’une plus vieille souche, Et j’ai lu quelque part, dans un certain bouquin D’argot traduit en grec, de grec mis en latin, Et depuis en françois, que Jason et Thésée, Hercule, Philoctète, Admète, Hylas, Lyncée, Castor, Pollux, Orphée et tant d’autres héros Qui _trimèrent_ pincer la toison à Colchos, Dans le navire _Argo_, pendant leur long voyage, Inventèrent entre eux ce sublime langage Afin de mieux tromper le roi Colchidien Et que de leur projet il ne soupçonnât rien. . . . . . . . . . Enfin tous les doubleurs de la riche toison, De leur navire Argo lui donnèrent le nom. Amis, voici quelle est son étymologie.

A certain number of slang terms proceed from uniform and systematic alterations in the body of the French word, but these methods do not seem to have produced many expressions holding a permanent place in the dialect. Such is the “langage en lem,” much used by butchers some forty years ago, but now only known to a few. But a very small number of words thus coined have passed into the main body of the lingo, as being too lengthy, and because argot has a general tendency to brevity.

The more usual suffixes used are mar, anche, inche, in, ingue, o, orgue, aille, ière, muche, mon, mont, oque, ègue, igue, which give such terms as--

épicemar for épicier, boutanche -- boutique, aminceminche -- ami, burlin } -- bureau, burlingue } camaro -- camarade, bonorgue -- bon, vouzaille -- vous, mézière -- me, petmuche -- pet, cabermon -- cabaret, gilmont -- gilet, loufoque -- fou, chamègue -- chameau, mézigue -- me.

The army has furnished a large contingent to slang, and has provided us with such words as colon (_colonel_); petit colon (_lieutenant-colonel_); la femme du régiment (_big drum_); la malle (_prison_); un bleu (_recruit_); poulet d’Inde (_steed_), and the humorous expression, sortir sur les jambes d’un autre (_to be confined to barracks, or to the guard-room_).

Much-maligned animals have been put into requisition, the fish tribe serving to denominate the Paris bully, that plague of certain quarters.

With the parts of the body might be formed a complete orchestra. Thus “guitare” stands for the head; “flûtes” for legs; “grosse caisse” for the body; “trompette” does duty for the face, “mirliton” for the nose, and “sifflet” for the throat.

The study of the slang jargon of a nation--a language which is not the expression of conventional ideas, but the unvarnished and rude expression of life in its true aspects--may give us an insight into the foibles and predominant vices of those who use it.

Now though the French as a nation are not hard drinkers, yet we must come to the conclusion--in the face of the many synonyms of the single word drunk, whilst there is not one for the word sober--that Parisian workmen have either a lively imagination, or that they would scarcely prove eligible for recruits in the Blue Ribbon Army. Intoxication--from a state of gentle inebriation, when one is “allumé,” or “elevated,” to the helpless state when the “poivrot,” or “lushington,” is “asphyxié,” or “regularly scammered,” when he can’t “see a hole in a ladder,” or when he “laps the gutter”--has no less than eighty synonyms.

The French possess comparatively few terms for the word money; but, in spite of the well-worn saying, “l’or est une chimère,” or the insincere exclamation, “l’or, ce vil métal!” the argot vocabulary shows as many as fifty-four synonyms for the “needful.” The English are still richer, for Her Majesty’s coin is known by more than one hundred and thirty slang words, from the humble “brown” (halfpenny) to the “long-tailed one” (bank-note).

Though there is no evidence that the social evil has a greater hold on Paris than on London or Berlin, yet the Parisians have no less than one hundred and fifty distinct slang synonyms to indicate the different varieties of “unfortunates,” many being borrowed from the names of animals, such as “vache,” “chameau,” “biche,” &c. Some of the other terms are highly suggestive and appropriate. So we have “omnibus,” “fleur de macadam,” “demoiselle du bitume,” “autel de besoin,” the dismal “pompe funèbre,” the ignoble “paillasse de corps de garde,” and the “grenier à coups de sabre,” which reflects on the brutality of soldiers towards the fallen ones.

For the _head_ the French jargon can boast of about fifty representative slang terms, some of which have been borrowed from the vegetable kingdom. Homage is rendered to its superior or governing powers by such epithets as “boussole” and “Sorbonne,” and a compliment is paid to its inventive genius by the term, “la boîte à surprises,” which is, however, degraded into “la tronche” when it has rolled into the executioner’s basket. But it is treated with still more irreverence when deprived of its natural ornament,--so that a man with a bald pate is described as having no more “paillasson à la porte,” or “mouron sur la cage.” He is also said sometimes to sport a “tête de veau.”

Grim humour is displayed in the long list of metaphors to describe death, the promoters of the slang expressions having borrowed from the technical vocabulary of their craft. Thus soldiers describe it as “défiler la parade,” for which English military men have the equivalent, “to lose the number of one’s mess;” “passer l’arme à gauche;” “descendre la garde,” after which the soldier will never be called again on sentry duty; “recevoir son décompte,” or deferred pay. People who are habitual sufferers from toothache have no doubt contributed the expression, “n’avoir plus mal aux dents;” sailors, “casser son câble” and “déralinguer;” coachmen, “casser son fouet;” drummers, “avaler ses baguettes,” their sticks being henceforth useless to them; billiard-players are responsible for “dévisser son billard;” servants for “déchirer son tablier.” Then what horrible philosophy in the expression, “mettre la table pour les asticots!”

A person of sound mind finds no place in the argot vocabulary; but madness, from the mild state which scarcely goes beyond eccentricity to the confirmed lunatic, has found many definitions, the single expression “to be cracked” being represented by a number of comical synonyms, many of them referring to the presence of some troublesome animal in the brain, such as “un moustique dans la boîte au sel” or “un hanneton dans le plafond.”

Courage has but one or two equivalents, but the act of the coward who vanishes, or the thief who seeks to escape the clutches of the police, has received due attention from the promoters of argot. Thus we have the highly picturesque expressions, “faire patatrot,” which gives an impression of the patter of the runaway’s feet; “se faire une paire de mains courantes,” literally to make for oneself a pair of running hands; “se déguiser en cerf,” to imitate that swift animal the deer; “fusilier le plancher,” which reminds one of the quick rat-tat of feet on the boards.

To show kindness to one, as far as I have been able to notice, is not represented, but the act of doing bodily injury, or fighting, has furnished the slang vocabulary with a rich contingent, the least forcible of which is certainly not the amiable invitation expressed in the words of the Paris rough, “viens que j’te mange le nez!” or “numérote tes abattis que j’te démolisse!”

What ingenuity and precision of simile some of these vagaries of language offer! The man who is annoyed, badgered, is compared to an elephant with a small tormentor in a part of his body by which he can be effectually driven to despair, whilst deprived of all means of retaliation--he is then said to have “un rat dans la trompe!” He who gets drunk carves out for himself a wooden face, and “se sculpter une gueule de bois” certainly evokes the sight of the stolid, stupid features of the “lushington,” with half-open mouth and lack-lustre eyes.

The career of an unlucky criminal may thus be described in his own picturesque but awful language. The “pègre” (_thief_), or “escarpe” (_murderer_), who has been imprudent enough to allow himself to be “paumé marron” (_caught in the act_) whilst busy effecting a “choppin” (_theft_), or committing the more serious offence of “faire un gas à la dure” (_to rob with violence_), using the knife when “lavant son linge dans la saignante” (_murdering_), or yet the summary process of breaking into a house and killing all the inmates, “faire une maison entière,” will probably be taken by “la rousse” (_police_), first of all before the “quart d’œil” (_police magistrate_), from whose office he will be conveyed to the dépôt in the “panier à salade” (_prison van_), having perhaps in the meanwhile spent a night in the “violon” (_cells at the police station_). In due time he will be brought into the presence of a very inquisitive person, the “curieux,” who will do his utmost to pump him, “entraver dans ses flanches,” or make him reveal his accomplices, “manger le morceau,” or, again, to say all he knows about the affair, “débiner le truc.” From two to six months after this preliminary examination, he will be brought into the awful presence of the “léon” (_president of assize court_), at the “carré des gerbes,” where he sits in his red robes, administering justice. Now, suffering from a violent attack of “fièvre” (_charge_), the prisoner puts all his hopes in his “parrains d’altèque” (_witnesses for the defence_), and in his “médecin” (_counsel_), who will try whether a “purgation” (_speech for the defence_) will not cure him of his ailment, especially should he have an attack of “redoublement de fièvre” (_new charge_). Should the medicine be ineffectual, and the “hésiteurs opinants” (_jurymen_) have pronounced against him, he leaves the “planche au pain” (_bar_) to return whence he came, to the “hôpital” (_prison_), which he will only leave when “guéri” (_free_). But should he be “un cheval de retour” (_old offender_), he will probably be given a free passage to go “se laver les pieds dans le grand pré” (_be transported_) to “La Nouvelle” (_New Caledonia_), or “Cayenne les Eaux;” or, worse still, he may be left for some time in the “boîte au sel” (_condemned cell_) at La Roquette, attired in a “ligotante de rifle” (_strait waistcoat_), attended by a “mouton” (_spy_), who tries to get at his secrets, and now and then receiving the exhortations of the “ratichon” (_priest_). At an early hour one morning he is apprised by the “maugrée” (_director_) that he is to suffer the penalty of the law. After “la toilette” by “Charlot” (_cutting off the hair by the executioner_), he is assisted to the “Abbaye de Monte-à-regret” (_guillotine_), where, after the “sanglier” (_priest_) has given him a final embrace, the “soubrettes de Charlot” (_executioner’s assistants_) seize him, and make him play “à la main chaude” (_hot cockles_). Charlot pulls a string, when the criminal is turned into “un bœuf” (_is executed_) by being made to “éternuer dans le son” (_guillotined_). His “machabée” (_remains_) is then taken to the “champ de navets” (_cemetery_).

For the following I am indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. J. W. Horsley, Chaplain to H. M. Prison, Clerkenwell, who, in his highly interesting _Prison Notes_ makes the following remarks on thieves’ slang: “It has its antiquity, as well as its vitality and power of growth and development by constant accretion; in it are preserved many words interesting to the student of language, and from it have passed not a few words into the ordinary stock of the Queen’s English. Of multifold origin, it is yet mainly derived from Romany or gipsy talk, and thereby contains a large Eastern element, in which old Sanscrit roots may readily be traced. Many of these words would be unintelligible to ordinary folk, but some have passed into common speech. For instance, the words bamboozle, daddy, pal (companion or friend), mull (to make a mull or mess of a thing), bosh (from the Persian), are pure gipsy words, but have found some lodging, if not a home, in our vernacular. Then there are survivals (not always of the fittest) from the tongue of our Teutonic ancestors, so that Dr. Latham, the philologist, says: ‘The thieves of London’ (and he might still more have said the professional tramps) ‘are the conservators of Anglo-Saxonisms.’ Next, there are the cosmopolitan absorptions from many a tongue. From the French _bouilli_ we probably get the prison slang term ‘bull’ for a ration of meat. Chat, thieves’ slang for house, is obviously _château_. Steel, the familiar name for Coldbath Fields Prison, is an appropriation and abbreviation of Bastille; and he who ‘does a tray’ (serves three months’ imprisonment) therein, borrows his word from our Gallican neighbours. So from the Italian we get _casa_ for house, filly (_figlia_) for daughter, donny (_donna_) for woman, and omee (_uomo_) for man. The Spanish gives us _don_, which the universities have not despised as a useful term. From the German we get durrynacker, for a female hawker, from _dorf_, ‘a village,’ and _nachgehen_, ‘to run after.’ From Scotland we borrow _duds_, for clothes, and from the Hebrew _shoful_, for base coin.

“Considering that in the manufacture of the domestic and social slang of nicknames or pet names not a little humour or wit is commonly found, it might be imagined that thieves’ slang would be a great treasure-house of humorous expression. That this is not the case arises from the fact that there is very little glitter even in what they take for gold, and that their life is mainly one of miserable anxiety, suspicion, and fear; forced and gin-inspired is their merriment, and dismal, for the most part, are their faces when not assuming an air of bravado, which deceives not even their companions. Some traces of humour are to be found in certain euphemisms, such as the delicate expression ‘fingersmith’ as descriptive of a trade which a blunt world might call that of a pickpocket. Or, again, to get three months’ hard labour is more pleasantly described as getting thirteen clean shirts, one being served out in prison each week. The tread-wheel, again, is more politely called the everlasting staircase, or the wheel of life, or the vertical case-grinder. Penal servitude is dignified with the appellation of serving Her Majesty for nothing; and even an attempt is made to lighten the horror of the climax of a criminal career by speaking of dying in a horse’s nightcap, _i.e._, a halter.”

The English public schools, but especially the military establishments, seem to be not unimportant manufacturing centres for slang. Only a small proportion, however, of the expressions coined there appear to have been adopted by the general slang-talking public, as most are local terms, and can only be used at their own birthplace. The same expressions in some cases have a totally different signification according to the places where they are in vogue. Thus gentlemen cadets at the “Shop,” _i.e._, the Royal Military Academy, will talk of the doctor as being the “skipper,” whereas elsewhere “skipper” has the signification of master, head of an establishment. The expression “tosh,” meaning bath, seems to have been imported by students from Eton, Harrow, and Charterhouse, to the “Shop,” where “to tosh” means to bathe, to wash, but also to toss an obnoxious individual into a cold bath, advantage being taken of his being in full uniform. Another expression connected with the forced application of cold water at the above establishment is termed “chamber singing” at Eton, a penalty enforced on the new boys of singing a song in public, with the alternative (according to the _Everyday Life in our Public Schools_ of C. E. Pascoe) of drinking a nauseous mixture of salt and beer; the corresponding penalty on the occasion of the arrival of unfortunate “snookers” at the R. M. Academy used to consist some few years ago of splashing them with cold water and throwing wet sponges at their heads, when they could not or would not contribute some ditty or other to the musical entertainment.

“Extra” at Harrow is a punishment which consists of writing out grammar for two and a half hours under the supervision of a master. The word extra at the “Shop” already mentioned is corrupted into “hoxter.” The hoxter consists in the painful ordeal of being compelled to turn out of bed at an early hour, and march up and down with full equipment under the watchful eye of a corporal. Again, we have here the suggestive terms: “greasers,” for fried potatoes; “squish,” for marmalade; “whales,” for sardines; “vaseline,” for honey; “grass,” for vegetables; and to be “roosted” is to be placed under arrest; whilst “to q.” means to qualify at the term examination. Here a man who is vexed or angry “loses his shirt” or his “hair;” at Shrewsbury he is “in a swot;” and at Winchester “front.” At the latter school a clique or party they term a “pitch up;” the word “Johnnies” (newly joined at Sandhurst, termed also “Johns,”) being sometimes used with a like signification by young officers, and the inquiry may occasionally be heard, “I say, old fellow, any more Johnnies coming?”

FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

LE JARGON OU JOBELIN DE MAISTRE FRANÇOIS VILLON.

BALLADE III.

Spélicans, Qui, en tous temps, Avancez dedans le pogois Gourde piarde, Et sur la tarde, Desboursez les povres nyois, Et pour soustenir vostre pois, Les duppes sont privez de caire, Sans faire haire, Ne hault braiere, Mais plantez ils sont comme joncz, Pour les sires qui sont si longs.

Souvent aux arques A leurs marques, Se laissent tous desbouser Pour ruer, Et enterver Pour leur contre, que lors faisons La fée aux arques respons. Vous ruez deux coups, ou bien troys, Aux gallois. Deux, ou troys Mineront trestout aux frontz, Pour les sires qui sont si longs.

Et pource, benars Coquillars, Rebecquez vous de la Montjoye Qui desvoye Votre proye, Et vous fera de tout brouer, Pour joncher et enterver, Qui est aux pigeons bien cher; Pour rifler Et placquer Les angels, de mal tous rondz Pour les sires qui sont si longs.

ENVOI.

De paour des hurmes Et des grumes, Rassurez vous en droguerie Et faerie, Et ne soyez plus sur les joncz, Pour les sires qui sont si longs.

TRANSLATION.

Police spies, who at all times drink good wine at the tavern, and at night empty poor simpletons’ purses, and to provide for your extortions silly thieves have to part with their money, without complaining or clamouring, yet they are planted in jail, like so many reeds, to be plucked by the gaunt hangmen.

Oftentimes at the cashboxes, at places marked out for plunder, they allow themselves to be despoiled, when righting and resisting to save their confederate, while we are practising our arts on the hidden coffers. You make two or three onsets on the boon companions. Two or three will mark them all for the gallows.

Hence, ye simple-minded vagabonds, turn away from the gallows, which gives you the colic and will deprive you of all, that you may deceive and steal what is of so much value to the dupes, that you may outwit and thrash the police, so eager to bring you to the scaffold.

For fear of the gibbet and the beam, exert more cunning and be more wily, and be no longer in prison, thence to be brought to the scaffold.

SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

SONNET EN AUTHENTIQUE LANGAGE SOUDARDANT.[1]

(_Extrait des Premières Œuvres Poétiques du Capitaine Lasphrise._)

Accipant[2] du marpaut[3] la galiere[4] pourrie, Grivolant[5] porte-flambe[6] enfile le trimart.[7] Mais en despit de Gille,[8] ô geux, ton Girouart,[9] A la mette[10] on lura[11] ta biotte[12] conie.[13]

Tu peux gourd pioller[14] me credant[15] et morfie[16] De l’ornion,[17] du morne:[18] et de l’oygnan[19] criart, De l’artois blanchemin.[20] Que ton riflant chouart[21] Ne rive[22] du Courrier l’andrumelle gaudie.[23]

Ne ronce point du sabre[24] au mion[25] du taudis, Qui n’aille au Gaulfarault,[26] gergonant de tesis,[27] Que son journal[28] o flus[29] n’empoupe ta fouillouse.[30]

N’embiant[31] on rouillarde,[32] et de noir roupillant,[33] Sur la gourde fretille,[34] et sur le gourd volant,[35] Ainsi tu ne luras l’accolante tortouse.[36]

[1] Langage soudardant, _soldiers’ lingo_.

[2] Accipant, _for_ recevant.

[3] Marpaut, _host_.

[4] Galiere, _mare_.

[5] Grivolant, _name for a soldier_.

[6] Flambe, _sword_.

[7] Trimart, _road_.

[8] Gille, _name for a runaway_.

[9] Girouart, _patron_.

[10] Mette, _wine-shop_; _morning_; _thieves’ meeting-place_.

[11] Lura, _will see_.

[12] Biotte, _steed_.

[13] Conie, _dead_.

[14] Gourd pioller, _drink heavily_.