The idiosyncratic definitions in Samuel Johnson's 1755 Dictionary

Before dictionaries became neutral rulebooks, Samuel Johnson treated his 1755 edition like a personal highlight reel. He wasn't just a referee calling the plays of the English language; he was a player-manager who used definitions to settle scores and air his grievances.

Take his definition of "Oats." He called it a grain that supports horses in England, but people in Scotland. It’s a legendary linguistic slide-tackle. He even defined "Lexicographer"—his own job—as a "harmless drudge."

This wasn't just a list of words; it was a one-man league where the author’s ego was the star striker. It’s the ultimate reminder that even the "official" rules of language started with a lot of attitude.

Wait, who was he actually trying to tackle with those petty definitions?

His biggest target was Lord Chesterfield, the man who was supposed to be his financial backer. Johnson spent years in the trenches while Chesterfield ghosted him, only for the Lord to reappear at the trophy ceremony looking for a shout-out.

Johnson didn't just ignore him; he redefined the word "Patron" to call him a "wretch." It was the linguistic equivalent of a two-footed challenge in the 90th minute to settle a long-standing grudge.

He even took shots at the government, defining "Pension" as "pay given to a state hireling for treason." He was playing a dangerous game, but his ego was too big to ever be benched.

Did the government actually let him get away with that treason jab?

You’d think the government would have VAR-checked that definition and sent him off immediately. Calling state pay "treason" is a bold move when you're living in the same city as the people signing the checks.

But here is the plot twist: years later, the government actually offered Johnson a pension of his own. It was the ultimate "if you cannot beat them, buy them" strategy.

Johnson took the money, of course, performing some serious mental gymnastics to justify it. Even the toughest critics have a price when the transfer fee is high enough.

How exactly did he justify it without looking like a total hypocrite?

He argued his money was a 'reward for merit,' not a 'price for treason.' It was a world-class bit of spin. He claimed his work for English culture earned him the bag, regardless of his politics.

He didn't even edit the dictionary to hide his tracks. He left the 'treason' definition in there like a trophy. He was basically telling the world he was too big to be benched for a little inconsistency.

In his mind, he wasn't a sell-out; he was just a star player finally getting the contract he deserved.

But surely his rivals didn't just let that 'treason' definition slide?

Oh, the away fans were screaming for a red card. His critics absolutely roasted him, pointing out that by his own logic, he was now the very 'state hireling' he had mocked. It was the 18th-century version of a massive Twitter ratio.

But Johnson had 'un-cancelable' energy. He was the undisputed GOAT of English letters by then. He basically just shrugged and kept the cash, proving that when you are the league's top scorer, you can get away with a few blatant handballs without losing your spot.