A horse yawning, exposing its teeth
21 April 2021
To be long in the tooth is to be old. Like many such expressions, the phrase got its start as a literal description, in this case of horses, but soon began to be applied figuratively to people and other things. In its early applications to people, it was quite sexist, comparing women to livestock, but over the ensuing 185 years that sexist connotation has largely been lost when using the phrase to refer to things other than women.
As horses age, their gums recede, exposing the roots of the teeth, and an oral examination can give a rough estimate of a horse’s age (Cf. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth). And, indeed, the earliest recorded use of the phrase is in reference to horses. From Thomas Medwin’s 1834 The Angler in Wales in a passage about Lord Byron’s stable:
His stable was at this time numerously though not very nobly supplied; and where he picked up such a set of dog-horses is amazing. The animal that carried him was loaded with fat, and resembled what we call a Flanders mare. She was encumbered with a hussar saddle and holsters, a standing martingale, and breast-plate. Though skittish, she was only remarkable for the lowness of her action, and, what made her a favourite with her master, the consequent ease of her pace, the amble, her ordinary one. A brown gawky leggy Rozinante, very long in the tooth, and showing every bone in his skin, was generally ridden by his courier, though occasionally, by way of variety, and to show the extent of the stud, he was mounted on a black, entire, forest pony, who had acquired the mauvaise habitude of having his own way, and would frequently take it into his capricious head to quit the cavalcade, and return to his stable.
Within a few years, we see long in the tooth applied figuratively to women. In this passage about the availability of marriageable women in India to British officers, the women are directly compared to horses. From John Francis Bellew’s 1841 Memoirs of a Griffin:
“As you are so fond of dancing,” said Marpeet, “what say you to joining a hop to-morrow evening ?” “With all my heart,” said I; “always ready for a ‘trip on the fantastic toe;’ but who is your friend?” “Why,” rejoined the captain, “I have a ‘provoke’ here from the mistress of the Kidderpore establishment for the orphan daughters of officers (by the way, I expect my young Mogulanee will figure there some of these days), to attend a dance to-morrow; they have a ball there once a fortnight (I believe), to show off the girls, and give them an opportunity of getting spliced.” “That's a new feature of schools; in England, if I remember right, the efforts of the mistresses tend the other way to keep the girls from getting married.” “That,” said Marpeet, “would never do in India, where women are thinking of getting buried about the age they talk of being married in lat. 50° N. Yes, this is the place for the man who wants a wife, and wishes to be met half-way, detesting, like me, the toil of wooing. There he can go, and if he sees a girl he likes, good forehand, clean about the fetlock-joints, free in her paces, sound and quiet, and not too long in the tooth, if not bespoke, he'll not find much difficulty in getting her.”
That same year, Major Michel’s retelling of the story of King Henry V and the battle of Agincourt uses the phrase in the same sexist manner, only with more subtlety. He doesn’t directly compare women to horses, but long in the tooth is used immediately after a description of horses and in the context of riding and lovemaking:
Having tethered their horses, Leonard led Gamme into the other stables belonging to the hostelrie, and there they found many steeds covered with warlike trappings, and some of great value. "
David,” said Leonard, “do rapscallion blades, according to our host's words, ride horses such as these? Did you hear the girl talk of the gentleman in the velvet cloak? and again, good David, did you see her face, her eyes, her figure? Why she is a very angel! In fact, David, there is a mystery, and a pretty petticoat, either of which would be sufficient to make Leonard Hastings ride a thousand miles on a bare-backed hackney; much more, then, would it force him to remain, when he thinks he has already ridden enough for the day. I tell you, dear honest David, that the squire of the most noble Earl of March is most deeply in love, and by the turn of that dear little girl's eye, I think it is reciprocal, and, forsooth, why not? We shall see: as if the old mother be sulky, why I will make love to her too, or perhaps, considering she is a little too long in the tooth for me, a friend might manage it instead.
And within another decade, we see the phrase being used figuratively in contexts completely divorced from horses, although contemporary readers would have been likely to make the connection. From William Makepeace Thackeray’s 1852 novel The History of Henry Esmond, Esq.:
His cousin was now of more than middle age, and had nobody's word but her own for the beauty which she said she once possessed. She was lean, and yellow, and long in the tooth; all the red and white in all the toyshops of London could not make a beauty of her.
Since most people today don’t come in regular contact with horses, the phrase has lost much of the equine association it once had. So, using long in the tooth in reference to people does not necessarily invite a comparison to livestock anymore, although it would often be impolite to comment on a person’s age in many contexts.
Sources:
Bellew, Francis John. “Memoirs of a Griffin.” The Asiatic Journal, 34.40, April 1841, 252–53.
Medwin, Thomas. The Angler in Wales, or Days and Nights of Sportsmen, vol. 2 of 2. London: Richard Bentley, 1834, 181–82. HathTrust Digital Archive.
Michel, Major. Henry of Monmouth: or the Field of Agincourt, vol. 1 of 3. London: Saunders and Otley, 1841, 8–9. HathTrust Digital Archive.
Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, March 2021, s.v. long, adj.1 and n.1.
Thackeray, William M. The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., vol. 1 of 2. Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1852, 18–19. HathTrust Digital Archive.
Photo credit: Rachel Cowen, 2005. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.