Notes and Queries, Number 201, September 3, 1853: A Medium of Inter-communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc

In Short

This publication is a single, sixteen-page issue of a Victorian weekly periodical established as an open forum for scholars, antiquaries, and curious readers. Through short essays, letters, and editorial answers, contributors investigate bibliographic mysteries, debate Shakespearean textual emendations, catalog rural British superstitions, and evaluate historical documents. The issue captures mid-nineteenth-century intellectual life in motion, blending rigorous archival research with casual, polite debate. It has lasted as a rich historical capsule that preserves lost folklore, early photographic experiments, and the collaborative methods of nineteenth-century literary research.

The Story

The issue opens with an investigation into the career of an eighteenth-century figure named Swinney, examining his financial troubles and publication history. The writer reconstructs Swinney's habit of raising funds through book subscriptions, focusing on his delayed three-book project on the Battle of Minden and his unfulfilled promises of illustrations to his subscribers.

Attention then shifts to regional folklore and textual analysis. Correspondents record superstitions from Cornish miners and Norfolk locals, detailing unusual folk remedies for epilepsy and skin conditions, such as rings forged from nine donated sixpences or ashes from a shoe. A sharp exchange on Shakespearean interpretation follows, where writers debate the line "runaways' eyes" in Romeo and Juliet. One contributor suggests replacing the phrase with "rude day's eyes," while another playfully warns against the dangers of over-editing the playwright's work.

Brief entries introduce practical medical observations and maritime weather proverbs. A contributor notes the success of lemon juice in treating gout and head pains, quoting an Italian letter as precedent, while another notes the reliability of traditional sailors' rhymes about wind, rain, and cloud formations. A detailed description of an un-dated black-letter New Testament outlines its physical structure, missing verses, and archaic spelling patterns.

The volume proceeds through specific historical queries. Readers ask about a lost Parisian pyramid erected after the assassination of Henry IV, the origin of the name "Brasenose" for the Oxford college, and the whereabouts of a portrait of Thomas Hobbes painted in 1669. Editorial answers clarify details regarding Puritan author John Frewen, standard histories of literature, and rare Seventeenth-century tracts.

Formal replies resolve long-running debates. One contributor references primary volumes in Geneva to clarify the correspondence between John Calvin and Thomas Cranmer. Another breaks down the legendary belief that barnacles transform into wild geese, contrasting ancient northern myths with contemporary natural history observations of crustaceans. Archival documents reveal seventeenth-century proposals for saltpetre production without public burden, while linguistic entries trace the root of the word "Tsar" and investigate the origins of Hull's street name, "The Land of Green Ginger."

The issue concludes with photographic correspondence, discussing experiments using artificial light to copy coins, prints, and antiquities. Commercial advertisements fill the final pages, offering photographic chemicals, architectural index volumes, and health remedies, before closing with the publisher's colophon.

How It Unfolds

The publication opens — Correspondents analyze the obscure career and subscription debts of an eighteenth-century author named Swinney, using surviving book editions to evaluate his unfulfilled publishing promises.

Folk traditions are recorded — Writers catalog regional superstitions from Norfolk and Cornwall, noting rural reliance on silver rings forged from nine sixpences to treat epilepsy and burnt shoe soles for skin ailments.

Shakespeare's text is debated — Scholars analyze a disputed line in Romeo and Juliet, trading critical emendations and debating whether editors overreach when altering difficult passages.

Medical and weather notes are shared — Contributors record lemon juice as a historical remedy for joint pain and document traditional maritime proverbs used to predict approaching storms.

Early printings are examined — A descriptive entry details an early black-letter New Testament, detailing its binding, lack of verse divisions, and archaic orthography.

Historical queries are raised — Antiquaries submit questions regarding lost monuments, Oxford college names, historical portraits, and forgotten political treatises.

Myth and natural history collide — Writers dismantle the ancient belief that barnacles hatch into geese, contrasting old northern legends with modern physiological observations of marine life.

Archival documents are deciphered — Transcriptions of state papers reveal historical proposals for refining saltpetre without imposing financial charges on the public.

Etymology and place names are explored — Linguistic inquiries trace the origin of the title "Tsar" back to ancient roots and explore how a Hull street acquired the name "Land of Green Ginger."

Early photographic methods are discussed — Readers seek techniques for using artificial light to photograph antiquities, coins, and prints during evening hours.

The issue closes with commerce — Detailed back-page advertisements showcase photographic papers, archæological reference books, medicinal powders, and legal search services available in Victorian London.

The People

The Editor and Contributors — A collective group of Victorian scholars, antiquaries, and curious readers who submit research and queries under various initials or pseudonyms. They seek historical accuracy, debate textual interpretations, and share specialized knowledge with peer readers.

Swinney — An eighteenth-century writer and publisher described as poor and imprudent. He generates subscribers for ambitious multi-volume works, including a poem on the Battle of Minden, but struggles to deliver promised illustrations or publish on schedule.

MR. SINGER — A Shakespearean commentator who suggests changing "runaways' eyes" to "rumourers' eyes" in Romeo and Juliet. His proposal sparks a polite critical counterargument regarding the distinction between seeing and hearing.

Q. — A witty contributor from Bloomsbury who cautions against excessive textual editing. He uses historic phrases from Sir Thomas More and John Donne to warn that commentators often overleap themselves when attempting to correct Shakespeare.

A. BOARDMAN — A meticulous reader who provides a detailed physical description of a fragile black-letter New Testament, noting its thong binding, marginal marks, and unusual spelling conventions.

CUTHBERT BEDE — A recurring correspondent who inquires into the Saxon origins of Oxford's Brasenose College and notes local observances of church marriage rubrics.

T. J. BUCKTON — A scholar who provides detailed linguistic analyses, tracing the etymological roots of the Russian word "Tsar" through Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin comparisons.

In Its Own Voice

"A similar superstition supposes that the sole of the left shoe of a person of the same age, but opposite sex, to the patient, reduced to ashes is a cure for St. Anthony's fire."

A correspondent records a rural folk remedy, demonstrating the issue's focus on documenting local customs before they disappear.

"To overleap, overreach, overshoot himself are merely, to leap, reach, shoot, over or beyond the mark himself intended."

A contributor cautions against overly creative literary corrections, offering a sharp commentary on the habits of Shakespearean editors.

"The conversion of the fish into a bird, however fabulous, would be scarcely more astonishing than the metamorphosis which it actually undergoes..."

A writer addresses the ancient myth of barnacle geese, bridging historical folk beliefs with nineteenth-century scientific observation.

What It's Really About

This periodical issue reflects the Victorian impulse to collect, classify, and preserve human knowledge. Beneath the varied topics lies a deep commitment to collaborative inquiry, where no detail—whether a regional proverb, an obscure street name, or a disputed word in a play—is too small to deserve precise investigation.

The issue explores the line between folk legend and empirical truth. Contributors treat traditional superstitions and ancient myths with serious curiosity, using modern scientific understanding and textual evidence to separate fact from invention.

Finally, the text illustrates the growth of public scholarship. By providing a open media forum, the publication transforms private research into a collective project, allowing readers from different regions to build a shared historical record.

Why Read It Today

This publication offers an engaging glimpse into the intellectual habits of Victorian England. Reading it feels like sitting in on a lively, polite conversation among well-read scholars, antiquaries, and hobbyists who find genuine delight in resolving obscure historical questions. The variety of topics keeps the text moving quickly, jumping seamlessly from Shakespearean criticism to maritime weather proverbs and early photography.

Modern readers should be prepared for the fragmented nature of a mid-nineteenth-century magazine. The issue does not follow a single narrative line; instead, it consists of short entries, untranslated Latin and Italian passages, and brief notes that assume a comfortable familiarity with classical literature and British history.

Despite these period difficulties, the text remains accessible and surprisingly fresh. It will appeal to historical researchers, lovers of obscure trivia, and anyone curious about how readers shared knowledge before digital networks. It stands as a charming testament to the quiet joy of getting the facts straight.