A new dictionary of the terms ancient and modern of the canting crew in its several tribes of gypsies, beggers, thieves, cheats, &c

In Short

This curious work is a specialized dictionary of "canting"—the secret, coded language used by the vagabonds, gypsies, and criminals of late 17th-century England. More than a mere linguistic curiosity, it serves as a practical manual for the respectable citizen, offering warnings on how to identify swindlers and protect one’s purse. It has survived as a vital historical bridge, preserving the harsh, inventive, and often dark vocabulary of a society’s fringe, documenting a world where language was a tool for both survival and deception.

The Story

The narrative begins with a scholarly, if defensive, attempt to frame the existence of beggars and gypsies within history. The author argues that poverty is not a modern vice but a byproduct of social evolution, linking the rise of the "canting crew" to the dissolution of abbeys and the emancipation of slaves. He approaches his subjects with a mix of academic curiosity and worldly caution, framing his dictionary as a necessary survival guide for the "foreigner" or the honest man navigating the dangerous streets of London.

As the text progresses, it discards historical theory in favor of raw, granular detail. The reader is led through a sprawling, alphabetical journey of the criminal lexicon. We learn the specific nomenclature of theft: how a "cove" might "bilk" a "ratling-cove" (cheat a coachman), or how a "buttock-broker" manages the affairs of the street. Each entry functions as a miniature scene, detailing the mechanics of a pickpocket’s life or the grim reality of the "nubbing-cheat" (the gallows).

The arc of the book is defined by its widening scope. It moves from the simple language of the street-level thief—the pickpockets, the "famgrasping" negotiators, and the "strowlers"—into the more complex social stratifications of the time. We encounter the "damme-boy" who creates chaos on the streets, the "black-box" lawyer who navigates the courts, and the "hell-driver" who steers the city’s coaches. The dictionary records the specific threats faced by travelers, the jargon of the tavern, and the shifting loyalties of the "bingo-club."

By the end of the journey, the reader has been fully initiated into the cynical, sharp-edged vernacular of the era. The final pages leave no doubt about the precariousness of life for those who live outside the law. There is no moralizing conclusion; instead, the book ends as it began, with a cold, precise acknowledgment that the language of the street is a living, breathing entity. It leaves the reader with a stark understanding of a world where one’s safety depended entirely on the ability to translate the "fustian" of the city into a clear understanding of intent. It is a record of a culture that turned its exclusion into a secret, impenetrable code, and in documenting that code, the author has ensured that the echoes of their survival—and their schemes—remain audible centuries later.

How It Unfolds

The historical defense The work opens by anchoring the existence of the "canting crew" in ancient history, providing a sociological justification for the presence of the poor and the marginalized. This framing serves to normalize the subculture, treating the existence of thieves as an inevitable consequence of state and religious shifts.

The mechanics of deceit The body of the dictionary transitions into a practical, hard-nosed examination of criminal tradecraft. Each entry reveals the specific language required to execute a "bite," ranging from stealing a handkerchief to the more complex art of "fencing" stolen property.

The social geography The text expands to categorize the people of the city, from the "black-guard" boys to the "fur-men" and "black-coats" who occupy the higher rungs of society. This section provides a comprehensive map of the city’s social hierarchy as seen through the eyes of those who prey upon it.

The final glossary The conclusion of the alphabetical listing brings the reader to the starkest aspects of the law, detailing the terms for imprisonment, trial, and execution. It leaves the reader with a grim, final accounting of the consequences faced by those who cannot outrun the "nubbing-cove."

The People

The book is populated not by rounded characters, but by archetypes of the London streets. The "Cove" is the central, malleable figure—the generic "man" or "rogue"—who serves as the target of the author’s scrutiny. He is the personification of the threat that the reader is meant to avoid, a chameleon who shifts from a simple "cod" or fool to a sophisticated sharper.

Then there is the "Mort," the woman who occupies the fringes of this economy, often described in roles ranging from the "dim-mort" (a pretty wench) to the "buttock-broker." These figures act as both agents and victims within the canting system, and their presence highlights the gendered nature of the survival tactics recorded here.

The "Cully"—the silly, unsuspecting gentleman—is perhaps the most important figure for the reader to identify. He represents the potential victim, the man of substance who is destined to be "bit" if he does not learn the language of his adversaries. Finally, the author himself stands as a mediator. He is the "gent" who observes from a distance, acting as a translator for the uninitiated. He neither condemns nor celebrates his subjects; he simply observes their patterns, leaving the reader to decide how to use the information he provides.

In Its Own Voice

The author offers a blunt justification for the utility of his linguistic project in his preface:

Useful for all sorts of People, (especially Foreigners) to secure their Money and preserve their Lives; besides very Diverting and Entertaining, being wholly New.

The dictionary captures the dark, practical humor of the criminal class in its definition of the "cackle":

The Cull Cackles, c. the Rogue tells all.

The text also reveals the grim reality of justice as it existed for those who ran afoul of the law:

Nubbing-cheat, c. the Gallows.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the power of language as a defense mechanism. It argues that knowledge of the "canting" tongue is equivalent to a shield in a world defined by transactional violence. By dissecting the slang of the marginalized, the author is actually questioning the boundary between the "respectable" world and the "criminal" one. He suggests that the city is not a place of fixed social roles, but a chaotic environment where status is fluid and where the ability to interpret the intent of others—whether they be a "black-box" lawyer or a "hedging" thief—is the only true measure of security.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of the English language will find this an essential, if taxing, primary source. It captures a vibrant, profane, and often shocking snapshot of the 17th-century vernacular. However, modern readers should approach the text with a clear understanding of its period limitations. It is not a polished narrative; it is an raw, unvarnished index of human desperation and ingenuity.

You will find the alphabetical format requires patience, and the attitudes toward women, the poor, and ethnic groups are often brutal and reflective of the prejudices of the age. The author does not shy away from the graphic or the cruel—the entries on "nubbing" or "buttock-broking" are as unflinching as they are archaic. Yet, there is a profound satisfaction in reading it, as it strips away the polite veneer of history to reveal the frantic pulse of a city’s underbelly. If you value language that is as sharp as a blade and as honest as a coin, the experience of reading this book—feeling the weight of words that haven't been sanitized for the modern ear—will stay with you long after the final page.