Part 3
There is one source, however, of secret street terms which in the first edition of this work was entirely overlooked,—indeed, it was unknown to the original compiler until pointed out by a correspondent,—the Lingua Franca, or bastard Italian, spoken at Genoa, Trieste, Malta, Constantinople, Smyrna, Alexandria, and all Mediterranean seaport towns. The ingredients of this imported Cant are, as its name denotes, many. Its foundation is Italian, with a mixture of modern Greek, German (from the Austrian ports), Spanish, Turkish, and French. It has been introduced to the notice of the London wandering tribes by the sailors, foreign and English, who trade to and from the Mediterranean seaports, but it must not be confounded with the mixture of Irish, English, and Italian spoken in neighbourhoods like Saffron Hill and Leather Lane, which are thronged with swarms of organ-grinders from all parts of Italy, and makers of images from Rome and Florence,—all of whom, in these dense thoroughfares, mingle with our lower orders. It would occupy too much space here to give a list of the words used in either of these Babel-like tongues, especially as the principal of them are noted in the dictionary.
“There are several Hebrew terms in our Cant language, obtained, it would appear, from the intercourse of the thieves with the Jew fences (receivers of stolen goods); many of the Cant terms, again, are Sanscrit, got from the Gipsies; many Latin, got by the beggars from the Catholic prayers before the Reformation; and many again, Italian, got from the wandering musicians and others; indeed, the showmen have but lately introduced a number of Italian phrases into their Cant language.”[22] The Hindostanee also contributes several words, and these have been introduced by the Lascar sailors, who come over here in the East Indiamen, and often lodge during their stay in the low tramps’ houses at the East-end of London. Speaking of the learned tongues, it may be mentioned that, precarious and abandoned as the vagabonds’ existence is, many persons of classical or refined education have from time to time joined the nomadic ranks,—occasionally from inclination, as in the popular instance of Bamfylde Moore Carew, but generally through indiscretions, which involve pecuniary difficulty and loss of character.[23] This will in some measure account for numerous classical and learned words figuring as Cant terms in the vulgar dictionary.
In the early part of the last century, when highwaymen and footpads were plentiful, and when the dangerous classes were in larger proportion to the bulk of the population than they are now, a great many new words were added to the canting vocabulary, whilst several old terms fell into disuse. “Cant,” for instance, as applied to thieves’ talk, was supplanted by the word “flash.” In the North of England the Cant employed by tramps and thieves is known as “Gammy.” It is mainly from the old Gipsy corrupted. In the large towns of Ireland and Scotland this secret language is also spoken, with of course additions peculiar to each locality. All those words derived from “gammy” are inserted in the dictionary as from the North country.
A singular feature, however, in vulgar language is the retention and the revival of sterling old English words, long since laid up in ancient manuscripts. Disraeli somewhere says, “The purest source of neology is in the revival of old words”—
“Words that wise Bacon or brave Rawleigh spake;”
and Dr. Latham remarks that “the thieves of London are the conservators of Anglo-Saxonisms.” A young gentleman from Belgravia, who had lost his watch or his pocket-handkerchief, would scarcely remark to his mamma that it had been “boned”—yet “bone,” in old times, meant, amongst high and low, to steal. And a young lady living in the precincts of dingy but aristocratic Mayfair, although enraptured with a Jenny Lind or a Ristori, would hardly think of turning back in the box to inform papa that she (Ristori or Lind) “made no ‘bones’ of it”—yet the phrase was most respectable and well-to-do before it met with a change of circumstances. Possibly fashion, in its journey from east to west, left certain phrases and metaphors behind, which being annexed by the newcomers, sank gradually in the social scale until they ultimately passed out of the written language altogether, and became “flash” or Slang. “A ‘crack’ article,” however first-rate, would have greatly displeased Dr. Johnson and Mr. Walker—yet both crack, in the sense of excellent, and crack up, to boast or praise, were not considered vulgarisms in the time of Henry VIII. The former term is used frequently nowadays, as a kind of polite and modified Slang—as a “crack” regiment, a “crack” shot, &c. “Dodge,” a cunning trick, is from the Anglo-Saxon; and ancient nobles used to “get each other’s ‘dander’ up” before appealing to their swords,—quite “flabbergasting” (also a respectable old word) the half-score of lookers-on with the thumps and cuts of their heavy weapons. “Gallivanting,” waiting upon the ladies, was as polite in expression as in action; whilst a clergyman at Paule’s Crosse thought nothing of bidding a noisy hearer “hold his ‘gab,’” or “shut up his ‘gob.’” But then the essence of preaching was to indulge in idiomatic phrases and colloquialisms—a practice now almost peculiar to itinerant “ranters.” “Gadding,” roaming about in an idle and vacant manner, was used in an old translation of the Bible; and “to do anything ‘gingerly’” was to do it with great care. Persons of modern affected tastes will be shocked to know that the great Lord Bacon spoke of the lower part of a man’s face as his “gills,” though the expression is not more objectionable than the generality of metaphor, and is considerably more respectable than many words admitted to the genteel—we use the word advisedly—vocabulary.
Shakspeare also used many words which are now counted dreadfully vulgar. “‘Clean’ gone,” in the sense of out of sight, or entirely away; “you took me all ‘a-mort,’” or confounded me; “it wont ‘fadge,’” or suit, are phrases taken at random from the great dramatist’s works. These phrases are the natural outcome of the poet’s truth to life in the characters he portrayed. A London costermonger, or inhabitant of the streets, instead of saying, “I’ll make him yield,” or “give in,” in a fight or contest, would say, “I’ll make him ‘buckle’ under.” Shakspeare in his _Henry the Fourth_ (part ii. act i. scene 1), has the word; and Mr. Halliwell, one of the greatest and most industrious of living antiquaries, informs us that “the commentators do not supply another example.” If Shakspeare was not a pugilist, he certainly anticipated the terms of the prize-ring—or they were respectable words before the prize-ring was thought of—for he has “pay,” to beat or thrash, and “pepper,” with a similar meaning; also “fancy,” in the sense of pets and favourites,—pugilists are often termed “the ‘fancy.’” The origin of the term, as applied to them, has, however, never been satisfactorily decided, though Pierce Egan and others since his time have speculated ingeniously on the subject. The Cant word “prig,” from the Saxon _priccan_, to filch, is also Shakspearian; so, indeed, is “piece,” a contemptuous term for a young woman. Shakspeare was not the only vulgar dramatist of his time. Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Brome, and other play-writers, occasionally, and very naturally, put Cant words into the mouths of their low characters, or employed old words which have since degenerated into vulgarisms. “Crusty,” poor tempered; “two of a kidney,” two of a sort; “lark,” a piece of fun; “lug,” to pull; “bung,” to give or pass; “pickle,” a sad plight; “frump,” to mock, are a few specimens casually picked from the works of the old histrionic writers.
One old English mode of canting, simple enough, but affected only by the most miserable impostors, was the inserting a consonant betwixt each syllable; thus, taking _g_, “How do you do?” would be “How_g_ do_g_ you_g_ do_g_?” The name very properly given to this disagreeable nonsense, we are informed by Grose, was gibberish.
Another slang has been manufactured by transposing the initial letters of words, so that a mutton chop becomes a _ch_utton _m_op, and a pint of stout a _st_int of _p_out; but it is satisfactory to know that it has gained no ground, as it is remarkable for nothing so much as poverty of resource on the part of its inventors. This is called “Marrowskying,” or “Medical Greek,” from its use by medical students at the hospitals. Albert Smith termed it the “Gower Street Dialect,” and referred to it occasionally in his best-known works.
The “Language of Ziph,” it may be noted, is another rude mode of disguising English, in use among the students at Winchester College. Some notices of this method of conveying secret information, with an extensive Glossary of the Words, Phrases, Customs, &c., peculiar to the College, may be found in Mr. Mansfield’s _School Life at Winchester College_. It is certainly too puerile a specimen of work to find place here.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] “Swarms of vagabonds, whose eyes were so sharp as Lynx.”—_Bullein’s Simples and Surgery_, 1562.
[2] Probably from the Gipsies, who were supposed to come from Germany into Spain.
[3] From _Roter_, beggar, vagabond, and _wälsch_, foreign. See Dictionary of Gipsy language in Pott’s _Zigeuner in Europa und Asien_, vol. ii., Halle, 1844. The Italian cant is called Fourbesque, and the Portuguese Calao. See Francisque-Michel, _Dictionnaire d’Argot_, Paris, 1856.
[4] Richardson’s _Dictionary_.
[5] _Description of England_, prefixed to Holinshed’s _Chronicle_.
[6] The word Slang, as will be seen in the chapter upon that subject, is purely a Gipsy term, although nowadays it refers to low or vulgar language of any kind, other than cant. Slang and Gibberish in the Gipsy language are synonymous; but, as English adoptions, have meanings very different from that given to them in their original.
[7] “The vulgar tongue consists of two parts; the first is the Cant language; the second, those burlesque phrases, quaint allusions, and nicknames for persons, things, and places, which, from long uninterrupted usage, are made classical by prescription.”—Grose’s _Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue_, 1st edition, 1785.
[8] “Outlandish people calling themselves Egyptians.”—1530.
[9] Jabber may be, after all, only another form of GABBER, GAB, very common in Old English, from the _Anglo-Saxon_, GÆBBAN.
[10] This very proverb was mentioned by a young Gipsy to Crabb, some years ago.—_Gipsies’ Advocate_, p. 14.
[11] _Gipsies in Spain_, vol. i. p. 18.
[12] Shaks. _Henry IV._, part ii. act ii. scene 4.
[13] It is but fair to imagine that cheat ultimately became synonymous with “fraud,” when we remember that it was one of the most common words of the greatest class of impostors in the country.
[14] We are aware that more than one eminent philologist states that the origin of “queer” is seen in the German _quer_, crooked,—hence strange and abnormal. While agreeing with this etymology, we have reason to believe that the word was first used in this country in a Cant sense.
[15] Booget properly signifies a leathern wallet, and is probably derived from the _low Latin_, BULGA. A tinker’s budget is from the same source.
[16] Which, freely translated into modern Slang, might read—especially to those who know the manners and customs of the Dialites—thus:
“Good girls, go out, and look about, Good girls, go out and see; For every clout is up the spout, The bloke’s gone on the spree.”
[17] Who wrote about the year 1610.
[18] _Gipsies in Spain_, vol. i. p. 18. Borrow further commits himself by remarking that “Head’s Vocabulary has always been accepted as the speech of the English Gipsies.” Nothing of the kind. Head professed to have lived with the Gipsies, but in reality filched his words from Decker and Brome.
[19] The modern meanings of a few of the old Cant words are given within brackets.
[20] This is a curious volume, and is worth from one to two guineas. The Canting Dictionary was afterwards reprinted, word for word, with the title of _The Scoundrel’s Dictionary_, in 1751. It was originally published, without date, about the year 1710, by B. E., under the title of _A Dictionary of the Canting Crew_.
[21] _Bacchus and Venus._—1737.
[22] _London Labour and the London Poor._
[23] Mayhew (vol. i. p. 217) speaks of a low lodging-house “in which there were at one time five university men, three surgeons, and several sorts of broken-down clerks.” But old Harman’s saying, that “a wylde Roge is he that is _borne_ a roge,” will perhaps explain this seeming anomaly. There is, whatever may be the reason, no disputing the truth of this latter statement, as there is not, we venture to say, a common lodging-house in London without broken-down gentlemen, who have been gentlemen very often far beyond the conventional application of the term to any one with a good coat on his back and money in his pocket.
ACCOUNT
OF THE
HIEROGLYPHICS USED BY VAGABONDS.
One of the most singular chapters in a history of vagabondism would certainly be “An Account of the Hieroglyphic Signs used by Tramps and Thieves,” and it certainly would not be the least interesting. The reader may be startled to know that, in addition to a secret language, the wandering tribes of this country have private marks and symbols with which to score their successes, failures, and advice to succeeding beggars; in fact, there is no doubt that the country is really dotted over with beggars’ finger-posts and guide-stones. The subject was not long since brought under the attention of the Government by Mr. Rawlinson.[24] “There is,” he says in his report, “a sort of blackguards’ literature, and the initiated understand each other by Slang [Cant] terms, by pantomimic signs, and by hieroglyphics. The vagrant’s mark may be seen in Havant, on corners of streets, on door-posts, on house-steps. Simple as these chalk-lines appear, they inform the succeeding vagrants of all they require to know; and a few white scratches may say, ‘Be importunate,’ or ‘Pass on.’”
Another very curious account was taken from a provincial newspaper, published in 1849, and forwarded to _Notes and Queries_,[25] under the head of Mendicant Freemasonry. “Persons,” remarks the writer, “indiscreet enough to open their purses to the relief of the beggar tribe, would do well to take a readily-learned lesson as to the folly of that misguided benevolence which encourages and perpetuates vagabondism. Every door or passage is pregnant with instruction as to the error committed by the patron of beggars; as the beggar-marks show that a system of freemasonry is followed, by which a beggar knows whether it will be worth his while to call into a passage or knock at a door. Let any one examine the entrances to the passages in any town, and there he will find chalk marks, unintelligible to him, but significant enough to beggars. If a thousand towns are examined, the same marks will be found at every passage entrance. The passage mark is a cypher with a twisted tail; in some cases the tail projects into the passage, in others outwardly; thus seeming to indicate whether the houses down the passage are worth calling at or not. Almost every door has its marks; these are varied. In some cases there is a cross on the brickwork, in others a cypher; the figures ~1, 2, 3~ are also used. Every person may for himself test the accuracy of these statements by the examination of the brickwork near his own doorway—thus demonstrating that mendicity is a regular trade, carried out upon a system calculated to save time, and realize the largest profits.” These remarks refer mainly to provincial towns, London being looked upon as the tramps’ home, and therefore too “fly” or experienced to be duped by such means. The title it obtains, that of “the Start,” or first place in everything, is significant of this.
Provincial residents, who are more likely to view the foregoing extract with an eye of suspicion than are those who live in a position to constantly watch for and profit by evidences of the secret intercommunication indulged in by the dangerous classes, should note, in favour of the extract given, how significant is the practice of tramps and beggars calling in unfrequented localities, and how obvious it is that they are directed by a code of signals at once complete and imperious. It is bad for a tramp who is discovered disobeying secret orders. He is marked out and subjected to all kinds of annoyance by means of decoy hieroglyphs, until his life becomes a burden to him, and he is compelled to starve or—most horrible of alternatives—go to work.
The only other notice of the hieroglyphs of vagabonds worth remarking is in Mayhew’s _London Labour and the London Poor_.[26] Mayhew obtained his information from two tramps, who stated that hawkers employ these signs as well as beggars. One tramp thus described the method of “working”[27] a small town. “Two hawkers (‘pals’[27]) go together, but separate when they enter a village, one taking one side of the road, and selling different things, and so as to inform each other as to the character of the people at whose houses they call, they chalk certain marks on their door-posts.” Another informant stated that “if a ‘patterer’[27] has been ‘crabbed’” (that is, offended by refusal or exposure) “at any of the ‘cribs’” (houses), “he mostly chalks a signal at or near the door.” These hawkers were not of the ordinary, but of the tramp, class, who carried goods more as a blind to their real designs than for the purposes of sale. They, in fact, represented the worst kinds of the two classes. The law has comparatively recently improved these nondescript gentry off the face of the country, and the hawker of the present day is generally a man more sinned against than sinning.
Another use is also made of hieroglyphs. Charts of successful begging neighbourhoods are rudely drawn, and symbolical signs attached to each house to show whether benevolent or adverse.[28] “In many cases there is over the kitchen mantelpiece” of a tramps’ lodging-house “a map of the district, dotted here and there with memorandums of failure or success.” A correct facsimile of one of these singular maps is given in this book. It was obtained from the patterers and tramps who supplied a great many words for this work, and who were employed by the original publisher in collecting Old Ballads, Christmas Carols, Dying Speeches, and Last Lamentations, as materials for a _History of Popular Literature_. The reader will, no doubt, be amused with the drawing. The locality depicted is near Maidstone, in Kent; and it was probably sketched by a wandering Screever[29] in payment for a night’s lodging. The English practice of marking everything, and scratching names on public property, extends itself to the tribe of vagabonds. On the map, as may be seen in the left-hand corner, some Traveller[29] has drawn a favourite or noted female, singularly nicknamed Three-quarter Sarah. What were the peculiar accomplishments of this lady to demand so uncommon a name, the reader will be at a loss to discover; but a patterer says it probably refers to a shuffling dance of that name, common in tramps’ lodging-houses, and in which “3/4 Sarah” may have been a proficient. Above her, three beggars or hawkers have reckoned their day’s earnings, amounting to 13s., and on the right a tolerably correct sketch of a low hawker, or cadger, is drawn. “To Dover, the _nigh_ way,” is the exact phraseology; and “hup here,” a fair specimen of the self-acquired education of the draughtsman. No key or explanation to the hieroglyphs was given in the original, because it would have been superfluous, when every inmate of the lodging-house knew the marks from his cradle—or rather his mother’s back.
Should there be no map, in most lodging-houses there is an old man who is guide to every “walk” in the vicinity, and who can tell on every round each house that is “good for a cold tatur.” The hieroglyphs that are used are:—
☓ ~No good~; too poor, and know too much.
◠+ ~Stop~,—If you have what they want, they will buy. They are pretty “fly” (knowing).
⊃— ~Go in this direction~, it is better than the other road. Nothing that way.
◇ ~Bone~ (good). Safe for a “cold tatur,” if for nothing else. “Cheese your patter” (don’t talk much) here.
▽ ~Cooper’d~ (spoilt), by too many tramps calling there.
□ ~Gammy~ (unfavourable), like to have you taken up. Mind the dog.
⦿ ~Flummuxed~ (dangerous), sure of a month in “quod” (prison).
⊕ ~Religious~, but tidy on the whole.
Where did these signs come from? and when were they first used? are questions which have been asked again and again, and the answers have been many and various. Knowing the character of the Gipsies, and ascertaining from a tramp that they are well acquainted with the hieroglyphs, “and have been as long ago as ever he could remember,” there is little fear of being wrong in ascribing the invention to them. How strange it would be if some modern Belzoni, or Champollion—say Mr. George Smith, for instance—discovered in these beggars’ marks traces of ancient Egyptian or Hindoo sign-writing!
That the Gipsies were in the habit of leaving memorials of the road they had taken, and the successes that had befallen them, is upon record. In an old book, _The Triumph of Wit_, 1724, there is a passage which appears to have been copied from some older work, and it runs thus:—“The Gipsies set out twice a year, and scatter all over England, each parcel having their appointed stages, that they may not interfere, nor hinder each other; and for that purpose, when they set forward in the country, they stick up boughs in the way of divers kinds, according as it is agreed among them, that one company may know which way another is gone, and so take another road.” The works of Hoyland and Borrow supply other instances.
It would be hardly fair to close this subject without drawing attention to the extraordinary statement that, actually on the threshold of the gibbet, the sign of the vagabond was to be met with! “The murderer’s signal is even exhibited from the gallows; as a red handkerchief held in the hand of the felon about to be executed is a token that he dies without having betrayed any professional secrets.”[30] Private executions have of course rendered this custom obsolete, even if it ever existed.
* * * * *
Since the first editions of this work were published, the publishers have received from various parts of England numerous evidences of the still active use of beggars’ marks and mendicant hieroglyphs. One gentleman writes from Great Yarmouth to say that, whilst residing in Norwich, he used frequently to see them on the houses and street corners in the suburbs. Another gentleman, a clergyman, states that he has so far made himself acquainted with the meanings of the signs employed, that by himself marking the characters ◻ (gammy) and ⦿ (flummuxed) on the gate-posts of his parsonage, he enjoys a singular immunity from alms-seekers and cadgers on the tramp. This hint may not be lost on many other sufferers from importunate beggars, yet its publication may lead to the introduction of a new code.
* * * * *
In a popular constable’s guide,[31] giving the practice of justices in petty sessions, the following interesting paragraph is found, corroborating what has just been said on the hieroglyphs used by vagabonds:—