A Dictionary of Slang, Cant, and Vulgar Words: Used at the Present Day in the Streets of London

In Short

This book is a comprehensive mid-Victorian lexicon of slang, cant, and vulgarisms used across London’s social strata, from the dens of St. Giles to the halls of Parliament. It functions as both a dictionary and a social history, documenting the evolving vernacular of the nineteenth-century city. By cataloging the secret languages of wandering tribes and the colorful idioms of "fast life," the work provides an essential, gritty snapshot of an era. It remains a foundational text for historians and linguists interested in the linguistic artifacts of urban survival and subculture.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume begins with a scholarly inquiry into the nature of language itself. It posits that speech is not merely a static tool of the educated, but a dynamic, reactive force shaped by the pressures of dense urban living and social exclusion. The author treats the reader to a history of "cant"—a secret, coded language used by vagrants—and traces its lineage from ancient "gipsy" roots to the contemporary streets of London. This history is not presented as a dry list, but as a living record of how marginalized groups created internal systems of communication to protect themselves from the scrutiny of authority.

As the book progresses, it expands its scope from the specialized jargon of the underworld to the broader, more pervasive realm of "slang." Here, the author moves through the alphabet of city life, defining terms that range from the humorous to the dangerous. We learn of the "buz-napper’s academy," a clandestine school for young thieves, and the grim reality of "dancing upon nothing," a chilling euphemism for the gallows. The text reveals that slang is universal, an inevitable byproduct of crowds and artificial, high-pressure environments. Whether it is the gambling parlors of the Stock Exchange or the back alleys where "mud-larks" scavenge for refuse, the author shows that every social group develops its own distinct, often impenetrable, dialect.

The journey continues into the nuances of professional jargon—the "theatrical" terms for cutting a play, the "military" slang for being hungry, and the "university" terms for rations and examinations. The author does not shy away from the vulgar or the offensive, arguing that even the most "irreverent" speech—including the performative, drawling pronunciations of certain preachers—constitutes a form of slang worthy of study. By the time the reader arrives at the end of the glossary, they have been taken through a comprehensive tour of the city’s underbelly, its markets, its prisons, and its social hierarchies. The book concludes with an extensive bibliography, acknowledging the long lineage of lexicographers who sought to capture the ever-shifting "wild-fire" of the vernacular, ultimately positioning this work as both a culmination of that tradition and a unique, personal investigation into the heartbeat of London's streets.

How It Unfolds

The foundations of secrecy The work begins by establishing the necessity of cant as a protective, secret system for vagrants. It distinguishes this hardened, conspiratorial language from the more fluid, humorous slang of general society.

Tracing the roots The author explores the historical connections between ancient English cant and modern vernacular, noting how words have evolved or retained their grim meanings over centuries. This section emphasizes that jargon is not a static relic, but a continuously adapting tool for survival.

The anatomy of the city The main body of the text serves as an encyclopedic traversal of London’s social life, categorizing words by their use in gambling, thievery, theater, and the church. It illuminates the specific "hieroglyphics" and markings used by beggars to navigate safe or dangerous terrain.

The final assessment The book rounds off with a critical review of previous lexicographical efforts, acknowledging the influence of figures like Francis Grose. It closes by providing a bibliography, grounding the reader in the long, often fraught literary history of the vulgar tongue.

The People

The central figure is the "London Antiquary," an observant, moralistic, yet deeply curious guide who acts as our bridge to the underworld. He is driven by a desire to bring order to the "wild-fire" of street language, viewing himself as an impartial archivist of social deviance. Standing in his way is the sheer, chaotic nature of his subject matter; the language he studies is intentionally designed to deceive, evolve, and exclude, making it a moving target that resists easy classification.

Supporting characters appear as archetypes of the Victorian landscape. We encounter the "coster" or street merchant, whose life is dictated by the availability of "mungarly" (food) and the constant threat of the "beak" (policeman). We meet the "dandy," whose performative, fragile masculinity is mocked by the very language he uses. We see the "shallows-cove," the ragged beggar who represents the lowest rung of the social ladder. These figures are not protagonists in a traditional sense, but are essential components of the social ecosystem the author examines. By the end of the work, the author has successfully mapped these figures into a coherent structure, transforming the chaotic "rabble" of the streets into a readable, if unsettling, catalog of human activity.

In Its Own Voice

“Rabble-charming words, which carry so much wild-fire wrapt up in them.”

The author uses this epigraph to emphasize the dangerous, volatile power inherent in the common street language he has set out to define.

“Indeed, if we are to believe implicitly the saying of the wise man, that ‘there is nothing new under the sun,’ the ‘fast’ men of buried Nineveh... may have cracked Slang jokes on the steps of Sennacherib’s palace.”

The author suggests that the human impulse to create secret or vulgar languages is an ancient, universal phenomenon, rather than a modern invention.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work explores the tension between authority and the individual. It argues that language is a site of resistance; by inventing terms that outsiders cannot understand, the marginalized create a world of their own. The book investigates how power dynamics are codified in speech, from the "cushion thumper" in the pulpit to the "prig" in the alley. It asks whether language can ever be truly "authorized," or if the most vital parts of our communication will always exist in the gutters. Ultimately, the book is a study of human adaptability, showing that people will inevitably reshape their environment—and their vocabulary—to survive the pressures of a crowded, hierarchical, and often indifferent city.

Why Read It Today

Readers who possess an appetite for the raw, unvarnished history of urban life will find this book essential. It captures the rhythm of nineteenth-century London in a way that standard literature often misses, offering a glimpse into the minds of those who lived on the margins. The experience of reading it is akin to walking through a crowded, noisy Victorian market; you are bombarded with the specific, often jarring, reality of a world that is both familiar and profoundly foreign.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book's specific challenges. The length and the dense, repetitive nature of the dictionary entries require patience. Furthermore, the author’s perspective is undeniably that of his time; his descriptions of "vagabonds," "gipsies," and "fast men" are filtered through Victorian biases, and the terminology itself can be jarring. You will encounter attitudes toward class, gender, and morality that are starkly different from those of the present day. Despite these hurdles, the book remains a powerful piece of evidence for the resilience of language. It stays with you as a reminder that every word has a history of survival, and that the "vulgar" tongue is often the most honest reflection of a society's true character.