Notes and Queries, Number 13, January 26, 1850

In Short

This specific edition of Notes and Queries functions as a proto-internet forum, capturing the intellectual energy of January 1850. It gathers short, disconnected inquiries—ranging from the etymology of "muffin" to the authorship of Marlowe’s plays—alongside the responses of a far-flung community of researchers. Its historical value lies in this communal preservation of trivia, folklore, and antiquarian research. By aggregating the "odd volumes" and fleeting questions of its day, the publication creates a mosaic of the era’s academic preoccupations and its deep, abiding fascination with the past.

The Story

The "story" of this publication is not a linear narrative but a cumulative intellectual journey across the boundaries of time and geography. It opens with a search for meaning in the past, specifically attempting to identify a jester named Domingo Lomelyn mentioned in the works of Skelton. From there, the inquiry shifts to the literary detective work of Samuel Hickson, who meticulously compares the stylistic markers and parallel passages in The Taming of a Shrew and Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus. The conversation then veers into the obscure, examining the "beetle mythology" of ancient Egypt and its survival in Norman island rhymes, before settling into the grounded, tactile history of St. Margaret’s in Westminster, where the records of churchwardens illuminate the mundane costs of removing rood-lofts and the weight of medieval bells.

As the issue progresses, the focus turns to the physical landscape of London through the lens of Peter Cunningham’s Handbook, tracing the locations of Bagnios and taverns once frequented by figures like Hogarth and Horne Tooke. This is followed by a scholarly debate on Anglo-Saxon philology, specifically the translation of terms in Aelfric’s Colloquy. The narrative rhythm is then interrupted by a defensive, almost weary account of the "logographic" printing process—a technological experiment meant to modernize the press—before diving into the tragic and superstitious final days of the Duke of Monmouth. The discussion reveals the Duke’s reliance on charms, astrology, and secret spells, painting a portrait of a man whose life ended in the shadow of irrational belief.

The final segments of the publication act as a clearinghouse for unresolved mysteries. Contributors debate the identity of historical figures like Catherine Pegge, search for rare fragments of seventeenth-century verse by William Basse, and wrestle with theological and historical enigmas, such as the origins of the "Lacedaemonian black broth" or the true meaning of archaic legal terms found in old wills. The issue concludes not with a resolution, but with a series of advertisements and lists of books wanted, underscoring the ongoing nature of this collective project. It leaves the reader with the sense that history is never "finished"; it is a living, breathing archive that requires constant curation, questioning, and the patient labor of those willing to look beneath the surface of the accepted record.

How It Unfolds

The literary investigation An inquiry into Shakespearean allusions prompts a reassessment of Henry VIII’s court jesters, leading to a broader debate on Marlowe’s authentic body of work.

The mythological survey A brief detour into entomology transforms into an exploration of solar emblems and the talismanic significance of beetles in Egyptian and European folklore.

The archival retrieval The focus shifts to the practical, ledger-based realities of parish life, detailing the physical destruction of religious icons and the accounting of church property.

The urban topography London’s past is reconstructed through anecdotes and specific street-level history, linking architectural landmarks to the lives of eighteenth-century artists and politicians.

The philological debate Scholars engage in a rigorous technical analysis of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, proving that even a single word can hold the key to understanding a lost dialect.

The record of human vanity The tragic final hours of the Duke of Monmouth are interrogated through his personal effects, contrasting his political ambitions with his deep reliance on superstitious "magic."

The open-ended queries The issue dissolves into a communal space of unresolved questions, where the readers themselves become the primary source of historical discovery.

The People

The figures appearing in these pages fall into two categories: the historical subjects under scrutiny and the nineteenth-century scholars doing the scrutinizing. The historical figures—such as the Duke of Monmouth, Henry VIII’s jester Domingo Lomelyn, or the poet William Basse—are often distant, flickering silhouettes. They are defined by their contradictions: Monmouth, a man of noble birth, is revealed through his petty, superstitious "table-book" of charms; Lomelyn is recovered from the gambling debts recorded in Skelton’s verse. They do not "want" anything in the traditional sense; they are the objects of a modern desire to make sense of the past.

The contributors, by contrast, are defined by their sharp, exacting curiosity. Men like Samuel Hickson, J. Payne Collier, and the Reverend Mackenzie Walcott are the active agents of this text. They are driven by the impulse to "correct" the record. They want precision in translation, accuracy in bibliography, and the reclamation of lost cultural objects from the "sacrilegious" hands of history. They are often critical of their predecessors, correcting errors in earlier editions or dismissing the "malignity" of those who opposed technological progress like the logographic press. By the end, they remain unchanged, but they have moved the collective needle of historical understanding just a fraction further, proving that their obsession with detail is a form of guardianship over the past.

In Its Own Voice

"May it not be an allusion to a ballad or song on Domingo, one of King Henry the Eighth's jesters?"

A contributor suggests a new interpretation for a cryptic line of dialogue in Shakespeare by linking it to a specific historical jester.

"I will not take up your space now with the parallel passages which I noted; but, should you wish it, and be able to make room for them, I will furnish you with a list."

The author of an essay on Christopher Marlowe’s literary style invites the editor to publish his supporting evidence, highlighting the collaborative nature of the inquiry.

"The rapacious Puritans, of course, did not suffer any portion of the church-goods to escape their sacrilegious and itching palms, if convertible into money."

A researcher, documenting the destruction of a rood-loft in the mid-sixteenth century, allows his modern frustration with historical vandalism to bleed into his account.

What It's Really About

This work is fundamentally about the instability of knowledge. It demonstrates that history is not a static monument, but a contested space where meaning is derived from fragments—a scrap of a ballad, a line in a church ledger, or a notation in a marginal diary. It argues that no detail is too small to be significant, and that the "truth" of an era is often buried in the most mundane records. By surfacing these buried items, the text explores the tension between our desire for a complete, orderly history and the reality of a past that is inherently broken, scattered, and waiting to be reassembled.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the thrill of a scavenger hunt or the quiet satisfaction of archival research will find this publication rewarding. It offers a rare, unfiltered look into the Victorian mind—a mind that was intensely analytical, often pedantic, and deeply invested in the "science" of history. It feels like stepping into a library where the shelves are messy but the inhabitants are brilliant.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book's limitations. It is not a continuous narrative, and its focus on period-specific linguistic debates and obscure genealogies can be taxing. The Victorian tone, with its occasional flashes of period prejudice and its reliance on untranslated Latin or archaic Anglo-Saxon, requires a patient reader. Yet, there is something deeply grounding about the way these voices speak across 170 years. What stays with you is the humanity of the effort: the shared, stubborn belief that if we look closely enough at the discarded scraps of our ancestors—the "odd volumes" and the "minor queries"—we might finally understand the world they inhabited, and by extension, the one we occupy today. It is a testament to the fact that curiosity is a timeless, and perhaps the most noble, human pursuit.