Benjamin Franklin Publishes The Drinkers Dictionary on January 13, 1737
And celebrates American slang...and drinking
By 1737 Ben Franklin was well known for his writing and publications. He published Poor Richard's Almanack, which would set out little tidbits of advice that would be misquoted for generations. He also published the Pennsylvania Gazette. His career as a polymath lay ahead of him, but he was a student of the world. Electricity, ocean currents, or how to piss off religious types, he studied it with vigor. He was a social critic, a philosopher, and a linguist. Though hitting his writing stride by now, in the early days he couldn’t get published. It was then that he had created an alter ego in the form of a middle-aged widow called Silence Dogood. The widow Dogood did what alter egos do – make fun and speak truths. Through her, Franklin poked fun at colonial America with mild admonishment and observations. And it was Silence Dogood who published the Drinkers Dictionary on January 13, 1737 in the Pennsylvania Gazette.
Though not a heavy drinker (the guy wrote 13 virtues and temperance is the first one), Franklin no doubt enjoyed taverns. He was a patron of the City Tavern and as a social butterfly he probably enjoyed the lively culture, the conversation, and, as it turns out, the language. In the Drinkers Dictionary, Franklin (as Silence Dogood) lists 228 terms to describe intoxication. Franklin points out that he didn’t take his terminology from “the learned writings of our own” nor did he collect them from other languages. He explains, as a true linguist and perennial student, that he cobbled them together from the “modern conversation of tipplers” at local taverns. Many of them will conjure the frantic etymologist in us all. From the “I sort of get it” selection: He’s buskey, he’s buzzey, he’s flush’d, he’s chipper, he’s boozy. From the “That is a bit…interesting” collection: He’s going to Jerusalem; He’s contending with Pharaoh; He’s as drunk as David’s son. And from the “What the hell was happening at that tavern?” catalogue: He’s eat a toad and a half for breakfast; He’s had a thump on his head with Sampson’s Jawbone; He’s been with Sir John Goa; He’s been too free with Sir John Strawberry.
If the language alone isn’t enough to clue you in, there was a lot of drinking happening in early America. At the same time, Britain was noting with alarm their problem with distilled spirits. In particular, gin. The tipoff there was men sleeping on the street covered in urine and dead. In 1735, they enacted the Gin Act to hopefully curb the country’s love affair with gin, but it had the opposite effect. Later, artist and social critic William Hogarth painted Gin Lane and Beer Street as a warning to spirits drinkers. Whereas Beer Street is full of mellow, albeit gassy, people admiring art and looking for a chip shop, Gin Lane is rife with decayed, wasted Disney villains.
The American colonies had the same issue – people found that hard alcohol was affordable, everywhere, and got them so drunk that they almost forgot about the lice living in their pubic hair. In the colonies it was rum. Early American travel writers mention that some regional taverns only provided rum, which didn’t really quench their thirst. Nobody who’s not a psychopath (or a fan of tuna fish on pizza) quenches a thirst with a mug of warm rum. But its effects were hard to deny. A glass of rum did the job quicker than beer or wine. Taverns popped up all over the place. They served rum and they served food so visitors could drink more rum. And America became a pretty drunk place.
Like Hogarth across the pond, Franklin was put off by the heavy drinking around him. When he was a printing apprentice, he wrote with shock in his journal about the “six beer before breakfast” habit of his printing companions. So it’s not surprising that in the Drinkers Dictionary Silence Dogood puts on an air of tsk tsk moral condemnation. But that’s just the top layer of the Drinkers Dictionary. Franklin wasn’t a teetotaler, he was an advocate of moderation. Moreover, it’s not called the Drunkards Dictionary, but rather the Drinkers Dictionary. While he is pointing to various colorful phrases for the different degrees and experiences within drunkenness, he is not judging it with contempt, moral or otherwise.
On the contrary, he seems to be showing appreciation for the language. Franklin’s dictionary isn’t just a random selection of phrases, each one touches on a different experience within drinking. While we may not have an exact barometer to chart differences, most modern people can grasp the nuance between buzzed, hammered, smashed, and shitfaced. With that experience in mind, you can probably line up Franklin’s notes on the phrases of the 18th century tavern dweller: chipper, jocular, juicy, crump-footed, and as dizzy as a goose. To those we can line up the entries in Edmund Wilson’s 1927 The Lexicon of Prohibition: squiffy, owled, crocked, lathered and lit up like a Christmas tree. And maybe back to 1592, we can see the faint outline begin in four of the animals Thomas Nashe chose to describe the stages of being drunk: ape, lion, swine, sheep. Franklin touched on this universal nuance, that is, to get to the experience of drinking or being drunk, one must go beyond simple words. So when Silence Dogood explains that he took this language from “modern conversation of tipplers” at local taverns, it’s a compliment of the vividness of American slang.
These nuances are within alcohol itself. To get drunk on wine is a different experience from getting whiskey drunk, least because the police usually don’t show up and everyone wakes up with all their fingers. A gin drunk is different from a beer drunk, a tequila drunk is the closest we come to dying and being brought back to life but with our tongues replaced by a rubber chicken with a thyroid condition. A bartender once told me “when you get drunk on beer, the world sort of goes left to right, when you get drunk on Guinness the world sort of says ‘fuck you, I’m going where I want.’” And he’s right, but I can’t explain it unless you’ve been drunk on Guinness.
You have options. Franklin was a fan of wine and apparently he enjoyed milk punch. He had a recipe, which is below. It is involved, very involved. For those of you who want a simpler option, scroll to recipe 2.
1. A stone fence. A favorite of revolutionary era drinkers. Drop two ounces of rum into a glass and top it with 12 ounces of hard cider. Drink until you’re contending with Pharaoh (which I guess you could do on your way to Jerusalem). Don’t stop when you feel buskey, buzzey, or chipper. Should you feel that there’s a toad and a half in store for your breakfast, power through.
2. Rum. Warm. In a mug. Like a colonial era traveler. Drink until you have met Sir John Goa, gotten drunk with David’s son, kissed Black Betty, and when you have had a thump upon your head with Sampson’s Jawbone, call the paramedics.
Damien, You are aware of the sad news that City Tavern (at least its latest incarnation as a restaurant) is no more? Closed in 2020 as a casualty of the pandemic.