A WORD ABOUT SLANG.

THE French use the same word, argot, to represent both "slang" and "dead-wood." The connection is natural and plain, the first operating as an impediment to the healthy progress of a language, as the second does to the progress of a vehicle.

Slang is to a language what any gross perversion of a usage of society is to the etiquette of refinement.

It is an excrescence, the visible effect of a disease—a plaguespot, which, striking the eye at every turn, is too common to excite terror, yet is none the less a sign of pestilence, spreading daily and hourly, threatening its victims with corruption and decay. To guard against the growth of the evil is the duty not only of the physician, but of every one who values the health and strength of vigorous manhood, and desires to see no taint transmitted to posterity.

The settlement of the question, "How much slang should be allowed to obtain in a given language?" has never been reached. In this the sages of the world are far behind the driver of the Dutch trek-schuyt, who calculates to a nicety the pounds and ounces his conveyance can bear without foundering, before he will consent to bargain for your freight-careful that a ton too much, which pays him certain thalers, does not, in the end, entail upon him an expense of many more broad pieces in the matter of repairs.

More than one philosopher has observed that the degeneration of a people's language marks the degeneration of the people. The history of Greece and that of ancient Italia bear testimony to the truth of the assertion. Purity of thought requires the language of purity; and where the speech is coarse, or brutal, or obscene, the fair inference is that the thoughts of which it is the messenger are fittingly represented. Too little heed is paid to the experience of the past, and it is but rational to suppose that we, as a people, are now suffering, to a certain extent, for this sin of indifference or carelessness.

The corruption of our language for that impurity is fast becoming the characteristic of ordinary conversation, no one can deny is the result of many causes, chief among which is the prevalence of a slang style among those who cater for the public amusement in the columns of our papers, and even our more dignified magazines. As these form the circulating libraries of the masses, and as their great aim is originality, the people, glad to greet novelty in whatever form it appears, readily fall into the easy habit of slovenly speech, and adopt it

without a protest, forgetful of the precepts of Lindley Murray and the stately rules of Archbishop Whately. "This expres sion," says one, "is from the pen of a great writer-a man of education and ability. It is forcible, and piquant, and odd. It is good." The expression becomes familiar, perhaps fashionable, and we may expect to hear it long after the subject to which it was originally applied has passed from the memory. From the pulpit, too, are heard phrases which grate harshly upon the sensitive ear, but which, sanctified by the air in which they are breathed, are soon received, and circulate as lawful mediums of thought. Another cause, too patent to require any more than a passing notice, but too important to remain unnoticed, is the influence of that class of weekly story-papers, whose circulation in our country is one of the wonders of the nineteenth century. The stage lends its aid. Actors delight in tickling the ears of the groundlings with words and phrases of ambiguous character, skilfully introduced into the lines of the text; managers, intent upon the acquisition of wealth, present plays of questionable morality and doubtful purity as to language; and dramatic writers vie with each other in pandering to the vitiated taste of the mob. What wonder, then, that corruption should creep into our daily conversation, and that, at length, the very language, undergoing day by day the changes that time and circumstances never cease in producing, should become impregnated with it, to the shame and sorrow of our race?

With all these influences operating upon a people engaged heart and soul in the greatest undertaking which has ever taxed the energies of a nation, it is not a matter of surprise that, in the Army, where men are debarred the privileges, the comforts, the luxuries of home, and cut off from all those associations which tend to humanize the roughest, so little attention is paid to the use of that pure speech which distinguishes the gentleman from the rowdy. Lucilius complained of the debasement of literature and public taste in his time; but could he visit our earth to-day, particularly that part of it in which the armies of the young Republic are encamped, he could hardly fail to essay one more withering satire on the wilful blindness of mankind. He would find much fault with the colloquial style of modern patriots, and would have abundant cause to wonder that in an age of refinement men can be induced to read the trashy books sent by unscrupulous publishers to be sold at military stations. The existence of a slang element in the Army cannot, of course, be prevented. It came from home, where the fault lies. But to what is due its increase? We have considered some of the influences bearing upon all alike. There is another, which is confined to the service. The too common use of by-words, words of argot, words from the engine-room, the Bowery, the tavern-nicknames, catchwords, on the part of those appointed

.*

to positions of honor, many of whom have enjoyed the advantages of education and the refinement of well-ordered homesgives a stamp of genuineness to this false coin, which less favored subordinates keep in circulation, not because its intrinsic worth is greater, but because there is a glitter about it which the legal tender lacks, and because it passes current with the titled ones. It may be that to the illiterate man slang is a dialect more readily mastered and more easily handled than the lingua pura; but by what process does he assimilate his tent-mate to a "skeesicks" or a "stick-in-the-mud?" It has been remarked that the abecedarian must needs be a natural mnemonician to fix in his mind the letters of the alphabet, apparently so unconnected with any of his material associations; but consider the mental labor required of a soldier who likens a pair of boots to "mudhooks" or "gunboats," and makes "skedaddle" a synonym for retreat! Perhaps, having been denied the opportunities which most have, in our day, to become acquainted with other means whereby to "conceal his thoughts," and still desirous of enriching his vocabulary, he has recourse to invention, imitating unconsciously and in an humble way the great lexicographers, who frequently bring their neologisms into life, only to see them die of neglect.

It is easy now to identify those slang words which have

*The writer was conversing with an army officer at Stoneman's Switch, Va., one day in the fall of '62. The subject of our colloquy was "slang," to which the officer was much addicted. To him the gaucheries of the Faubourg Bowery were more familiar than the Gallic accent. About this time Victor Hugo's great book was much sought after in the army.

"By-the-way," said the officer, "there is an excellent thing about slang in Hugo's Have you read Lecs Miserables?"

work.

"I have," replied a gallant young soldier whom General Hooker delights to honor, "but I'd rather see them whipped."

There was evidently a joke in the wind, but the questioner could only snuff it. Turning a semi-suspicious eye upon the aide, he remarked

"It's a bully big thing on ice, ain't it?"

Skedaddle comes of good Hellenic stock, and in its primitive form may be found in Homer and Hesiod. The original skedannumi means to run in a crowd, and is doubtless the parent of onr vulgar skeet and scoot.. How the Western widow who first Americanized it, ever came to apply it to the clandestine departure of her liege lord (who was also a landlord) is more than we can conjecture, unless she considered, as we do, that the inconstant one was a host in himself.

Brantome tells us that Charles V. "disoit et repetoit souvent, quand il tomboit sur la beauté des langues (selon l'opinion des Turcs), qu'autant de langues que l'homme sçait parler, autant de fois est il homme."

It is worth while, for those who are destined, when this war is over, to hear of many hair-breadth escapes by flood and field, recited in language strange yet to ears polite, to know that "chin" means talk, report, rumor, just as gab, tongue, lip, apply in different degrees to the same idea of garrulity. The slang-speaker is never at a loss for a synonym, and rarely halts in his narration of facts. From the latter faculty of pouring forth his words in a stream, as it were, fluently, he is said to "blow;" and, to complete the analogy, for such there undoubtedly is, his discourse, often as lacking in form, always as constant in its flow, often as inflammable, is known, from Maine to California, as “gas."

grown out of this war, but a quarter century hence, who but the antiquary, the collector of odds and ends, will be able to give the pedigree of half of them? "Contraband" is historical, so are "Reb," and "Copperhead," and "Grayback,"-all as much entitled to a long life on the lips of the people as "Methodist," "Tory," "Whig," and "Mob," all slang words, but rendered respectable by age and long residence among respectable people. But, should we not henceforth guard the doors of society against all other nondescripts who would enter surreptitiously, relying upon contact with purity for their future position among the élite? The eighty thousand legitimate words which compose our language are surely sufficient for all the purposes of this life,-words brim full of associations of the honored past; bearing upon their face all the attributes of the noble races from which they descended, and possessing in themselves those wonderful principles by which they may be modified to meet the constant demand made upon them in the progress of science, literature, art, and human thought. Whence the need of Billingsgate, of Romanee, of Flash, of Argot, the dregs of a hundred corruptions of as many tongues?

Shades of Milton, Addison, Pope, pardon for the word, but there is a funny side to this subject of slang, and may-be something nearly akin to philosophy in it.

In civil life one man "jews," or cheats another; in the army a trickster "yanks" his fellow. The army teamster "yanks" his wagon from a bad place in the road, or "snakes" it out, both operations requiring the peculiar skill, ingenuity, and tortuous cunning so generally considered the characteristics of the children of Israel, the sons of America, and the tribe to which the first tempter belonged.

In army phrase, a white man, acting as servant to an officer, is a "dog-robber," a term first used at Fort Bridges in 1861. It implies that the man is a consumer of what daily morsels should fall to the lot of some Gelert, Blanche, Sweetheart, or Pompey. He is a "Dead Beat," or "D. B." who is exempt from military duty, as the "Dead-head" is from any pecuniary demand at the ticket-office of Wallack's. To "confiscate" (generally "confisticate") is to put into one's basket what belongs to another. To "snatch bald-headed"* is to do the same thing, but with the difference that "snatching" property "baldheaded" is always accomplished by "strategy."

*Bald-headed. This is the Latin calvus. On the Roman stage it was the fashion to represent clowns and demoralized old men as bald-headed. It came to pass that a new verb was coined from this word calvus, viz., calvio, to disappoint, shuffle, frustrate, trick, cheat. Even the lovely Venus is called Bald-headed, quod corda amantium calviat, because she cheats the hearts of lovers.-(Servius, Virg. Æn. i., 720.)

Query. How has the modern slang-speaker been enabled to revive this expres

"Currency" is a new word for money. The familiar "greenback" has for synonyms, "spondulix," "stamps," "shinplasters," and "soap," all which terms may, in the course of years, be as unintelligible as the hieroglyphics on Cleopatra's Needle; but, as according to a great writer, "whatever is popular is worthy of notice," it can scarcely be deemed a waste of time to record these uncouth expressions, and to invite to them the attention of the curious. They spring from the people; they are the humble chroniclers of our national progress; they hint at the character of our national wit; or they serve as additional illustrations of that singular principle of analogy which seems to be common to all the languages of the earth. When was "Currency" ever before a household word? and why should it be so familiar now?—are questions which the historian and the finan cier may readily answer. "Greenback" is an object word, just as "tin" was before the glitter of the precious metals yielded to the bronze and sad color of our postal notes. "Spondulix" is suggestive. It recalls the wampum of the poor Indian, the cowrie of the Ethiopian, and resuscitates the ancient blackmail man, who, as his kinsman, the dun, does to-day, called upon his victim to "shell out." For "Spondulix" is conchological.*

." "Com

In the army, as in the walks of civil life, our language loses much by abbreviation and contraction, "letters, like soldiers, being very apt to drop off on a long march, especially if their passage happens to lie near the confines of the enemy's country."+ And," abbreviations and corruptions are always busiest with the words which are most frequently in use." Thus it is that "bombshell" has become "shell;" "Minié rifle," plain "Minnie" without the accent; "Navy tobacco," "navy; mission," "Commish;" and "Secessionist," "Secesh. By the same process and in obedience to the same law, "Colt's revol vers" have been metamorphosed into "Colts," "Spondulix" becomes "Spons;" and "Greenbacks" "Greens." A man who re-enlists is a "Vet;" one who represents another is a "Sub;" and it is no uncommon thing to hear a "D. B." ordered to go to the "Sut's" to get "two botts" of "Whisk" for "Cap and Lute," so strong is the inclination to do away with all vowels and consonants whose utterance impedes business, or lengthens the time between drinks.

Shall we consider this new phase in the growth of our tongue an evidence of health and strength, a symptom of increasing vigor which should be encouraged? or, shall we look upon it as

* The spondylus (from Greek spondulos,) is a shell inequivalve, rough, hinge hav ing two recurved teeth with an intermediate hollow; sometimes eared. One of the valves convex and thick, the other flatten. These shells are attached to rocks, from which they are separated with the greatest difficulty.-Burrows. + Ibid.

Horne Tooke.