Notes and Queries, Vol. IV, Number 88, July 5, 1851: A Medium of Inter-communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc

In Short

This issue of Notes and Queries, published on July 5, 1851, functions as an open forum for nineteenth-century scholars, antiquaries, and curious readers. The volume opens with a detailed examination of a pocket-book belonging to the Duke of Monmouth, followed by folklore, biographical queries, and historical corrections. Correspondents debate theological manuscripts, the origin of everyday idioms, and regional customs. Its lasting appeal rests in its raw, communal preservation of Victorian intellectual culture, capturing the precise moment when disparate historical clues, literary puzzles, and local traditions were gathered into a single public record.

The Story

The journal opens with an editorial expression of gratitude to its readers as it launches its fourth volume, framing the periodical as a collaborative endeavor driven by scholars and amateur researchers alike. The main narrative trajectory of this issue begins with Sir F. Madden’s meticulous physical investigation of a manuscript recently acquired by the British Museum. By comparing the hand with authentic letters and identifying an inscription by King James II, Madden establishes that the pocket-book was found on the Duke of Monmouth upon his capture. The contents present a vivid, tragic portrait of the duke's inner life: mundane household recipes for boots and corns sit alongside astrological tables, cabalistic charms written in French to escape prison, and financial records tracking his movements across Europe.

From this tragic historical spotlight, the volume shifts into popular folklore and odd local anecdotes. A correspondent named David Stevens records regional tales, while another contributor transcribes a manuscript letter from 1632 recounting the curious rise of an Essex porter’s brother who allegedly rose from a pirate’s captive to become Pope Urban VIII. Religious and bibliographical inquiries immediately follow. Benjamin B. Wiffen searches for rare 1545 Protestant publications by Francisco de Enzinas, outlining Enzinas’s risky decision to print the Spanish New Testament without official imperial consent. W. B. MacCabe poses a query regarding historical accounts of preserving human corpses using salt, citing ancient texts and asking for corroborating historical instances.

The issue then moves into active debate through its replies section. Contributors tackle practical, theological, and literary puzzles sent in by readers of previous issues. J. Bruce presents a historical letter from the Duke of Monmouth during his tenure as Chancellor of Cambridge, revealing King Charles II's royal annoyance with ministers wearing overly long periwigs and reading written sermons instead of preaching extemporaneously. Another extensive entry dismantles the persistent legal myth that the Lord Mayor of London serves as an ex-officio Privy Councillor, tracing official royal proclamations from the accessions of King William IV and Queen Victoria to demonstrate that the mayor merely assists in public announcements rather than council meetings.

Finally, the editorial arc turns to linguistic origins and literary criticism. Charles Knight offers an explanation for the common idiom "mind your P's and Q's," grounding it in the physical difficulty young printing apprentices face when sorting movable type in a print shop. Other writers untangle tricky lines in John Dryden's plays, debate Scotch etymologies for obscure Shakespearean terms like "prenzie," examine the history of snakes and toads in Ireland, and untangle the real-life history behind Alfred Tennyson's poem "The Lord of Burleigh." The volume concludes with book notices, auction listings, and advertisements reflecting the active literary marketplace of July 1851.

How It Unfolds

The duke’s secret pocket-book Sir F. Madden authenticates a pocket-book taken from the Duke of Monmouth upon his arrest, proving its origins via King James II's handwriting. He catalogues its contents, revealing a mix of magical charms, medical remedies, financial calculations, and geographic itineraries.

Tales of popes and printers Correspondents share archival oddities, including a 1632 letter alleging a humble English porter's brother became the Pope, and an account of Francisco de Enzinas's covert printing of the Spanish New Testament in Antwerp.

Debating royal decrees and civic myths Contributors present archival evidence to resolve historical queries, showing Charles II's mandate against clergymen reading sermons and wearing long wigs, while another scholar disproves the claim that London's Lord Mayor belongs to the Privy Councillor chamber.

Unraveling phrases and literature Scholars trace everyday language and literary references to their origins, explaining "mind your P's and Q's" through print shop type distribution, clarifying a passage in Dryden, and correcting the romanticized biographical facts behind Tennyson's poetry.

The People

• The Duke of Monmouth: The late, ill-fated noble whose captured pocket-book forms the centerpiece of the issue's leading historical analysis. His personal entries reveal a man driven by superstition, practical concerns, and personal anxieties, seeking comfort in cabalistic charms, religious prayers, and astrological charts.
• Sir F. Madden: A focused British Museum scholar who seeks to settle the authenticity of the Monmouth manuscript. By comparing known handwriting samples and reading erased pencil marks, he successfully traces the document's path from King James II to an Irish student in Paris.
• Francisco de Enzinas (Dryander): A sixteenth-century Spanish Protestant translator who risks persecution to print the New Testament in Antwerp. Driven by a desire to serve the common good, he negotiates directly with printers and willingly accepts the personal danger of publishing without official imperial authorization.
• Charles Knight: A thoughtful contributor who brings practical knowledge to linguistic questions. He resolves the origin of a popular phrase by looking at the mechanical realities of the printing trade rather than accepting elaborate romantic theories.

In Its Own Voice

"This book was found in the Duke of Monmouth's pocket when he was taken, and is most of his owne handwriting."

King James II writes this brief note across the fly-leaf of the captured manuscript, providing Madden with the definitive evidence needed to confirm the document's royal provenance.

"I determined to do my duty in the affair, at all events; which was, to undertake the publication, and to leave the consequences, and the course of the inspired Word, to the providence of God..."

Francisco de Enzinas recalls his private determination when deciding to publish the Spanish New Testament despite the lack of a formal permit from the Emperor.

"Mind your p's and q's--I write it thus, and not 'Mind your P's and Q's'--has a higher philosophy than mind your toupées and your queues... It means, have regard to small differences..."

Charles Knight clarifies the printing house origins of a famous phrase, steering readers away from false derivations regarding eighteenth-century hairstyles.

What It's Really About

Underneath its fragmented format of short notes and specific queries, the volume is fundamentally about the preservation of historical truth through collective inquiry. It champions the idea that history is built from small, easily overlooked fragments—a forgotten line in a parish record, a printer's mechanical habit, or an unread note in a margins. The issue argues against romantic mythmaking, consistently using hard archival records, legal proclamations, and physical manuscripts to correct popular misconceptions about nobility, language, and civic rights. It captures a community dedicated to rescuing minor details from historical obscurity before they are lost forever.

Why Read It Today

This issue appeals directly to historians, bibliophiles, and lovers of historical oddities who enjoy seeing the past unraveled piece by piece. Reading it feels like sitting in an armchair inside a nineteenth-century library while scholars pass around rare documents, regional rumors, and old books. The writing is clear, direct, and delightfully specific, free from the heavy academic jargon of modern journals.

The primary difficulty for a modern reader lies in its abrupt transitions and dense period references. A discussion on Latin grammar or sixteenth-century church history sits right next to brief notes on regional folklore or eighteenth-century court gossip. Some entries expect the reader to know the basic context of English royal history or Latin phrases without explanation. Yet this very density gives the collection its unique texture. It offers an authentic, unvarnished look at how Victorian readers argued, shared information, and painstakingly pieced together the history of their world.