Chapter III: Part 3

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.