If you think modern slang is weird, you haven’t seen anything yet. Honestly, flipping through a 240-year-old book and finding out that "biting your name in a glass" meant you were a drunk who could literally leave teeth marks in a cup is a vibe. We’re talking about the Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, first published in 1785. It wasn't written by some stuffy academic in a powdered wig trying to preserve the "purity" of English. Instead, it was compiled by Francis Grose, a man who was basically the 18th-century version of a guy who hangs out at the dive bar just to hear the regulars talk.
Grose was a heavy-set, jovial captain in the Surrey Militia. He loved two things: old buildings and dirty jokes. While his contemporaries were busy writing serious dictionaries about "proper" English, Grose was out in the "flash houses" and back alleys of London. He was listening to pickpockets, sailors, and street walkers. He realized that the way people actually spoke was way more interesting than the way they wrote in letters to the Times.
The result is a chaotic, hilarious, and sometimes incredibly offensive look at the English language. It’s a time capsule.
Francis Grose and the Birth of Slang History
Most people think of Samuel Johnson when they think of 18th-century dictionaries. Johnson’s work was about order. Grose’s Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue was about the exact opposite. It was about the "cant" or "flash" language of the underworld.
Grose didn’t just sit in a library. He went on "night walks." He’d wander through the sketchiest parts of London with a notebook. You can almost see him there, smelling of ale and tobacco, scribbling down what a "clapperdogeon" was (it's a beggar born of beggars, by the way).
He was an antiquarian by trade, meaning he studied history. But he had this realization that language is a living thing. If you only record the high-brow stuff, you lose the soul of the culture. His dictionary includes terms for everything from being drunk to getting arrested, and it doesn't hold back. It’s crude. It’s raw. It’s exactly how people talked when they thought no one important was listening.
The book was a hit. It went through several editions, even after Grose died in 1791. Later versions were edited by Pierce Egan, who added even more Regency-era "sporting" slang. This book basically laid the groundwork for how we study subcultures today. Without Grose, we wouldn't have a record of how the average person in the 1700s actually insulted their friends.
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The Weirdest Entries in the Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue
Let’s get into the actual words because they are gold. Some of them feel strangely modern, while others are so specific to the 1700s they feel like they’re from another planet.
Take the word "Admiral of the Blue." You might think it’s a naval rank. Nope. It was a nickname for a tapster or a bartender who wore a blue apron. Then there’s a "Beard Splitter," which is a much more colorful (and slightly gross) way of describing a man who is a bit too fond of the ladies.
Why the definitions matter
- Social Commentary: Many words describe poverty. A "steamer" wasn't a boat; it was a pipe of tobacco.
- Criminal Cant: Terms like "dub the jigger" meant to shut the door. If you were "napped," you were caught.
- Humor: A "Physician" was often a term for a guy who could drink anyone under the table.
There’s a term in there called "Galligaskins." It refers to wide, loose breeches. Grose notes they were supposedly derived from "Gallo-Vasconic" (Gascon) hose. Imagine walking into a store today and asking for a pair of Galligaskins instead of cargo pants. It’s got a ring to it.
He also defines a "Lumber Troop." This wasn't a military unit. It was a "respectable" society in London that mostly just got together to drink and eat. Grose loved pointing out the hypocrisy of the upper classes by showing that their "secret societies" were basically just excuse-making clubs for getting hammered.
Understanding the "Canting" Language
The Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue is the primary source for what historians call "Cant." This was the secret language used by thieves and vagabonds. The idea was that if the police (the "Bow Street Runners" back then) were listening, they wouldn't understand what was being planned.
But Grose shows that cant wasn't just for criminals. It bled into everyday life. It’s like how "ghosting" or "rizz" started in specific internet subcultures and now your grandma knows what they mean.
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One of my favorite entries is "To Scour the Cramp-Ring." It sounds like a medieval torture method. In reality, it just meant to be bolted into fetters or shackles in prison. The "cramp-ring" was the iron ring around the leg. It’s a grim reality wrapped in a weirdly poetic slang term.
Grose also captures the intense misogyny and classism of the time. You have to read the book with a grain of salt. He uses terms for women and ethnic groups that are, frankly, appalling by today’s standards. But that’s the value of the book. It’s not sanitized. It’s a direct reflection of the prejudices and the harshness of 18th-century London life. If you want to know what people really thought—not what they said in church—this is where you look.
The Legacy of the Dictionary in Pop Culture
You’ve probably heard more "Grose-isms" than you realize. If you’ve ever watched a movie set in Victorian London or read a Dickens novel, much of that "authentic" slang comes directly from the research Grose started.
Authors like Patrick O'Brian (who wrote the Master and Commander series) or George MacDonald Fraser (Flashman) leaned heavily on these kinds of dictionaries to make their characters sound real. When a character calls someone a "Scoundrel" or a "Blackleg," they are using terms that Grose meticulously documented while drinking ale in a tavern in Holborn.
Why it still hits today
Language is still a tool for identity. We use slang to show we belong to a group. Grose understood this. He knew that the "Vulgar Tongue" was the real language of the people.
Today, we have Urban Dictionary. In the 1780s, they had Francis Grose. The medium changed, but the human impulse to come up with funny, mean, or secret ways to describe our world hasn't changed at all.
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How to Use This Knowledge
If you’re a writer, a history buff, or just someone who likes weird facts, the Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue is a goldmine. You can find digital scans of the 1785 and 1811 editions online for free through Project Gutenberg or the Internet Archive.
Don't just read the definitions. Look at the "etymologies" Grose tries to provide. Half the time he’s guessing, and his guesses are usually based on some weird folklore or a joke he heard. It’s less of a reference book and more of a narrative of 18th-century street life.
Actionable Ways to Explore 18th-Century Slang:
- Compare editions: The 1785 edition is the "purest" Grose. The 1811 edition, often titled "Lexicon Balatronicum," is expanded and includes even more Regency-era filth.
- Look for "Flash" poetry: There were actually poems and songs written entirely in the slang Grose documented. Trying to translate them is a fun (and difficult) exercise.
- Trace modern words: You’ll be surprised how many words we use today—like "kick the bucket"—are explained in Grose's work. He notes that "to kick the bucket" comes from a person standing on a bucket to hang themselves and then kicking it away. Grim, but fascinating.
The Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue reminds us that English has always been a messy, evolving language. It was never "pure." It was always being pulled and stretched by the people on the fringes of society. Francis Grose was just the first person brave (or bored) enough to write it all down.
If you want to understand the history of English, you can't just read Shakespeare and Milton. You have to read the "Beard Splitters" and the "Admirals of the Blue." You have to look at the vulgarity. That’s where the real history lives.
Next time you’re stuck in a boring meeting or a long commute, look up a PDF of the 1811 edition. Find three words that describe your boss or your best friend. I guarantee you’ll find something that fits perfectly, even two centuries later.
Next Steps for the History Fan:
Download a searchable PDF of the 1811 Lexicon Balatronicum. Start by looking up common words for "money" or "drinking." You’ll see how many synonyms existed even back then. For a more academic look, check out "The Vulgar Tongue: Francis Grose and the First Dictionary of Slang" by Rickard Jonsson, which gives a great biography of the man behind the book.