Academic Writing

Behind the Medieval Historian a Speculative Fiction Novelist by Ian Irvine

This is the third part of Dr Ian Irvine’s wonderful introduction to Sara’s lectures. Hope you enjoy reading it as much I have. Karen

It was during the pre-tutorial meetings in the first half of 1994 that I first learnt Sara was also busy writing and submitting for publication numerous novels. Dr Sara Warneke, Historian was already on the way to becoming Sara Douglass, Novelist – specifically: Fantasy Novelist, though she preferred other terms, e.g. ‘Modern Romance’ i.e. story-telling derived from the Romance tradition of the Medieval era. I loved Medieval history and I was also a secret fiction writer, among other things, so we had lots to talk about.

I remember having a kind of epiphany one day in her office – it was soon after she’d told me she was also a novelist. Sipping coffee and laughing at one of her wry asides I looked around at her vast collection of books and realised for the first time that the Fantasy genre was bloody hard work. Although the common perception is that such fiction comes ‘straight out of the writer’s imagination’ in truth a quality Fantasy writer, and Sara was world class, needs to read and absorb much more material than just about any other kind of fiction writer. To illustrate the point I’d like to quote a section of narrative from The Nameless Day, one of my favourite novels by Sara:

 

And so Thomas rode on.the-nameless-day-us-1sted

This time of the year the road that wound north was busy with carts piled high with hay, or fruits, or broodily grumbling calves or pigs, heading for the markets and stomachs of Nuremberg. Pedlars jangled by, their carts packed with bright pots, cooking utensils, and ribbons and fripperies for goodwives to waste their hard-earned coin on. There were innumerable pilgrims, travelling in bands that were sometimes small, sometimes huge. Thomas counted four-score in one gaily chatting band that passed him late in the evening. And there were soldiers. Stragglers, rather than coherent units, and probably mercenaries moving to look for work. (…)

Among the carts of merchandise, pedlars, pilgrims and soldiers straggled the occasional peasant, perhaps wandering down to Nuremberg in the hope of picking up work somewhere. Since the pestilence, there were few people who could find no work, but there were always some: the sick or crippled, those lingering on the borderlands of insanity, and the sheer malingerers who preferred a life drifting from employment to employment …

Of all the travellers, Thomas hated the beggars the most. They were society’s pests – skulkers who had lost even the art of malingering – who no longer even wished to pretend an interest in work. Most had a missing limb, generally a foot, and they hobbled past on crutches, or rumbled by on ill-made, hand-propelled carts.’

 

I’ve quoted the passage almost in full because I want to emphasise the enormous amount of research behind such an apparently simple compressed time passage – working, ostensibly, to establish setting. Throughout Sara’s lectures on Medieval history and society we repeatedly come across lines that have been transferred, almost word for word, into passages like the one above. In perusing the various folders of overhead images she gave me I also note how key scenes and details from the overheads (often of original woodcuts by Medieval artists) ended up in her novels, e.g. scenes from bath houses, peasant banquets, torture dungeons, peasant revolts, knightly activities, hangings, weddings, relations between the sexes, work activities, etc. Many of the images are wonderfully domestic (ploughing, food preparation, sewing, etc.), others are deeply confronting (criminals in cages, beheaded war captives, realistic and fantastic images of the plague, etc.).[1] She tried to bring every lecture to life with images that illustrated the content.

In The Nameless Day, and the Crucible series generally, the ‘transfusion’ between her academic activities and her fiction is direct and obvious – given the book is set in the tumultuous 14th century. images-2However, the setting descriptions and authenticity of the fantastic worlds Sara constructed elsewhere also owed much to her ability to ‘inhabit’ European landscapes imaginatively at any point in time from the Dark Ages to the Ancient Regime of the 18th century.

As an historian Sara believed in the value of researching and teaching the history of the common people, this included the history of changes to their ways of raising children, their marriage and sexual customs, their work life, their popular superstitions, etc. – the subject matter of her Medieval World unit in particular. There was more to the past than the achievements, beliefs etc of the ‘rich and powerful’ and Sara was well-versed on key academic debates related to medieval social history. Some of the lectures reproduced here detail her interests in this area – lectures on Medieval understandings of time, childhood, sexuality, popular culture, popular magic, etc. to name but a few. Incidentally, this love of and belief in social history also fed inspirational historic ‘coal’ directly into the engine/furnace of her creative imagination

 

Magic is Most Evocative When Grounded in Reality

 

After 1999 Sara became a different kind of mentor/inspiration to me. Like her I’d felt the pull of other forms of writing outside of academic non-fiction. In my case I began publishing poetry in the late 1990s and in 1998 became a literary ezine editor. It was as co-editor of The Animist, that I interviewed her in 1999. During the interview it became clear that she had become preoccupied with the challenges of fiction writing – she was thinking a lot about the genre that had brought her so much success and understood what she wanted her own unique contribution to the genre to be. Interestingly, the historic realities of life in Medieval times provided the foundation for her efforts in this area.

One facet of Sara’s ‘realism’ was her knowledge of the lives of women, children, peasants and marginalised people in pre-industrial societies. Paradoxically then, one of her great strengths as a speculative fiction writer – evident from the first pages of Battleaxe – was her commitment to merging historical realities with traditional fantasy tropes

When I began teaching in the writing program at Bendigo TAFE in 1999, Sara often visited as a guest speaker for our Myths and Symbols, Novel and Writing Industry Overview classes. In these talks she shared her vast knowledge of fiction writing and the Australian and international publishing industries. Yet again I was learning from her. One day, in response to a question by a student about plotting she answered, ‘I write with cards – 20-30 cards. I know I have a novel when I’ve found 20-30 key scenes that I can see vividly in my mind. Usually I write straight through the first draft once I’ve settled on those key ‘dramatic’ scenes … Sometimes I’ll shuffle the card/scenes around a bit – changing the order as I write. Usually each key scene forms the essence of a single chapter. After that it’s just filling in the dots – i.e. linking those key scenes together into a narrative.’

I’ve never forgotten this wonderful advice to writers.

 

 

 

How to Write the Perfect History Essay

Using the Example of a 2,000 Word Essay

1. Argument

The most important element of a historical essay is argument: students commonly make the mistake of describing rather than analysing.

It is always better to analyse than describe, i.e., analyse the problem, don’t simply provide a description of what happened.

It is (almost) always better to discuss a problem thematically rather than chronologically (this will also help you to analyse rather than describe).

To illustrate the above two points: in History 101 1994 there was an essay question that asked students why the English lost the Hundred Years War. The resulting essays could be sifted easily into two piles, those who analysed thematically and those who described chronologically. The temptation for students was to walk the reader through the course of the Hundred Years War, battle by battle. This was a waste of valuable space and was not required by the question. It was better (for instance) to take one paragraph to outline briefly the course of the Hundred Years War, than spend the bulk of the essay analysing the various reasons why the English lost the war. Every year History 101 students tend to do the same with the question on the Black Death. Inevitably the question on the Black Death asks something regarding the effects of the Black Death on Europe (or European society). Equally inevitably some students waste space with lengthy (and vivid!) descriptions of the course of the disease itself-again, a waste of valuable space. So, analyse rather than describe, and always try to discuss a problem thematically rather than chronologically (not always possible, but it is most of the time).

When you read a question, you should always ask yourself, `what problem(s) does this question ask me to address?’, not `what does this question ask me to describe?’

To repeat: the most important element of a historical essay is argument. You should work out the basic thrust of your argument before you start to plan your essay (and certainly before you start to write it!). Ideally, you should have a reasonable idea of what your argument will be before you do the bulk of your research-if you know what you want to argue before you do most of your reading then you can do `selective’ reading rather than waste hours gathering material you will never use.

Your argument should be clear enough in your own mind that, should someone ask, you could describe it in two or three sentences.

For example, to the question, “Why did the English lose the Hundred Years War?” a basic argument could be, “The English lost the Hundred Years War due to a combination of several factors: a failure to push home their advantage, problems associated with fighting a war far from home, and sheer bad luck.” If this is clear in your head after only minimal general reading, then your subsequent research could concentrate only on the three factors mentioned in your general argument.

Once you have your argument clear in your head then you must be prepared to argue it as strongly as possible. Your reader might, for instance, believe that the English lost the Hundred Years War through poor battle techniques. Your job is to convince the reader that you’re right and he/she isn’t (or, at the least, that you have a convincing and well researched argument that deserves careful consideration).

A word of caution: there may be no right or wrong answers in history, only strongly argued cases, but if you are going to present an argument that defies conventional thinking, then make sure you argue your case well!

For instance, if you wanted to argue that Hitler had nothing to do with do with the outbreak of World War II then you would have to argue a case that defies conventional understanding of the outbreak of World War II. It can be done, but only with a strong argument based on careful research. If you are going to present an argument of this nature, do two things: 1) check it with your tutor or lecturer first; 2) make sure that somewhere in your essay (generally the introduction is a good place) you demonstrate that you are aware of the conventional understanding/theory regarding the problem you are addressing, but that you are going to present a different interpretation (if you don’t do this, you run the real risk that the reader will think you’ve done so little research you’re not even aware of conventional understanding).

2. Planning the essay

Once you have your general argument, then it’s time to plan out your essay. Write down the major points you wish to discuss in your essay (remembering that each major point will be another step or rung in constructing your convincing argument). The problem is that for a restricted word essay there is always a limit to how many major points you can discuss.

As a rough guide, a 2,000 word essay can have between six to eight major points. Why six to eight? In a well-constructed essay you would use one paragraph per major point, and to develop a major point properly you will need some 200-250 words. (Six to eight major points/paragraphs does not include the introduction and conclusion.)

As you must be able to describe in two or three sentences your argument for the essay, you must be able to state in a single phrase the point (or subject) of each paragraph. If you cannot do this, then you have not thought clearly enough about your major points or about how you want to argue your case through. On a single sheet of paper you should be able to write:
A. the question.
B. your argument (2 or 3 sentences);
C. the major points in your argument using a single phrase for each-
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
All of these points (each expressed in a single phrase) should proceed logically, each one a major stepping stone in your argument, and they should build toward your conclusion
*When you start thinking about your essay, start thinking in this structure.

As a good exercise – and one you should do because it will drive home the need to plan an essay effectively – is to go back to an old essay, number each paragraph (and if you’ve got more than 10 for a 2000 word paper you’re already in trouble) and then, on a separate sheet of paper, write down the point or subject of each paragraph. If you have to do use more than a single phrase to describe the content of the paragraph, then you do not have a coherent paragraph.

3. How to plan and write a paragraph

You must spend as much time planning the overall structure of your paragraphs as you do the overall structure of your essay. Paragraphs are, in a sense, mini-essays. The paragraph should contain:

an introductory sentence, perhaps two (a sentence that will give the reader a good idea what the point/subject of the paragraph is);
information;
two or three examples, or illustrations, of the point you are making;
an argument in its own right (you will need to convince the reader of the importance of this point);
a concluding sentence. The concluding sentence, if possible, should also bridge the gap between the paragraph it concludes and the paragraph to follow (this is difficult and not always possible).
Two to three sentences do not make a paragraph – in two or three sentences you cannot even hope to develop fully a major point. Late twentieth-century newspapers and magazines are generally a good example of extraordinarily poor writing; many modern journalists assume their readers have an attention span of only three sentences at the most (to be fair to journalists, their poor paragraph construction is in part a result of the restrictions of the column formatting of newspapers).

4. Introduction and Conclusion

Generally, the introduction and conclusion should be the last paragraphs you write. You can neither introduce nor conclude until you have written the major portion of the essay. An introduction should give your reader a good idea of your argument and the problems you intend to address in the body of your essay. Like the opening bars of a musical composition, you will win or lose the reader’s interest in the introduction. The conclusion should not simply be a summary of the points you have covered in your essay. This is your last chance to convince the reader of the validity of your argument-don’t waste this opportunity.

The introduction and the conclusion are the two most important paragraphs of the essay. The introduction has to grab the reader’s interest, the conclusion has to make sure that the reader has been convinced of the force of your argument.

5. To summarise: to plan effectively you start with the bare bones and flesh out

Decide your major argument;
list your major points (each a paragraph);
for each major point list
1) information you wish to include
2) points you need to make
3) examples to illustrate your points/argument.
(Write the information you want for each major paragraph on separate sheets of paper. It keeps all the information for a paragraph in one place, and, if you later decide to rearrange the order of your paragraphs, it is easy to physically shuffle your paragraphs about.)
The bonus that you can expect if you do take the time to plan carefully your essay, paragraph by paragraph, is that by the time you have finished your planning, your essay is virtually written. If you find writing hard, then it is probably as a result of poor planning skills.

6. Some extra hints to give your essay added lustre and depth

Sometimes you can work in contradictory views of different historians you have read. This will give your essay added depth, interest, and will demonstrate to your reader how much research you have done. If you do this, then you should also state which of the views/arguments you prefer and why.

For strength of argument, be positive. Some historians say that you should never use words such as `probably’ or `perhaps’ in a piece of historical writing – if you cannot state something positively, then don’t bother stating it at all. I don’t necessarily agree with this, sometimes it is hard to avoid `hedging’, but overall you should aim to be as positive as possible. While you must show that you are aware of other interpretations, be positive in your own interpretation. Remember, you have to believe in your argument-if you don’t, then neither will your reader.

Aim for perfect clarity in your writing style. Not only do the overall essay and paragraph structures need to be carefully planned, so does the structure of each sentence you write. As a general rule, the simpler the sentence structure, the more clarity you will achieve. If you have more than three major clauses in your sentence (more than two punctuation marks) then perhaps two sentences would be better. The more a reader has to read and then re-read a sentence to determine your meaning, the less likely you are to impress. It is not your reader’s job to try and decode your meaning, it is your job to make sure that the reader will understand instantly what you want to say.

When you revise your first draft, always consider each sentence. Ask yourself, “How can I write that more clearly?”

Buy a good style guide. You’ll never regret it. The international standard in style guides is The Chicago Manual of Style (14th edition. Uni. of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1993). If you can afford it, buy it.

A good essay goes through at least two drafts-which means you must start writing the essay at least a week before it is due.

Proofread your essay carefully (get someone else to do this for you, an author is the very worst person to proofread their own work). Misspellings, typographical errors and basic grammatical errors indicate careless proofing and will lose you marks. It is a good idea to read your essay aloud once you have finished it. If a sentence doesn’t make sense to you when you read it aloud then it certainly won’t make sense to your reader.

Finally, find an author you admire and aim to write like them. If you read a book and think it particularly well-written, then take the time to consider why it is well-written-what can you learn from the author’s writing style?

A good writing style is not a God-given talent, it is the result of thoughtful and careful structuring. Generally students who, on the foundation of some careful research, effectively plan and argue their essays enjoy a leap of at least one grade.

7. Some Common Mistakes to Avoid

This list could be alternatively entitled, “Things that will so annoy your marker it will be a struggle for her/him to pass you”.

Learn the difference between `affect’ (to influence) and `effect’ (a result or consequence of an action).

Do not contract in formal writing, i.e., do not use don’t, won’t, doesn’t etc. These must always be expanded (this paper is not an example of formal writing!).

Use the possessive apostrophe properly. Particularly note that ‘it’s’ is only a contraction for ‘it is’. The sentence,”The dog ran after it’s ball” is an utterly incorrect usage of ‘it’s’.

Watch use of tense – don’t mix tense within a sentence (especially, don’t use the present tense when referring to the past) and don’t mix use of singular and plural in a single sentence.

Headings have no place in a formal prose essay. Using point form to construct your prose or to list facts (as in this paper) is unacceptable as well.

Avoid the temptation to use obscure or complex words that you think might give your paper the gloss of `intellectualism’, you don’t want to send your reader scurrying to the dictionary!

Be precise rather than vague. Avoid phrases like “it is said that …”. Who says? Be precise, write “historians argue that …” or, more correctly, name the historians who argue, “Brown and Smith argue that …” (in which case you need a footnote to where Brown and Smith argue). In any case, if you use a construction like “it is said that…” you really need a footnote to where `it is said’. Vagueness is generally an indication of poor research and panicky writing.

©1995 Sara Warneke/Sara Douglass

Images of the Educational Traveller in Early Modern England

images-of-the-educational-traveller-in-early-modern-englandWhile educational travel was extremely popular among early modern Englishmen, the practice attracted extensive public criticism. Rather than examining travel itself, this book explores the vivid public images of educational travellers, their development and popularity, and the fears and prejudices in English society that engendered them. The first part of the book examines the medieval background of English travel abroad, the enthusiasm for educational travel among early modern Englishmen, and the progress of the public debate over the practice which essentially started with the publication of Ascham’s “The Scholemaster” in 1570. The second part of the book examines each of the seven major images of the educational traveller: the Italianated traveller; the atheistical traveller; the Catholic traveller; the morally corrupt traveller; the culturally corrupt traveller; and the foolish and lying travellers.

Published in 1995 by E.J. Brill, Leiden, Netherlands as part of Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History (Book 58), written by Sara Warneke, Ph.D. (1991) in History, University of Adelaide, who was at the time a lecturer in European History at La Trobe University, Bendigo.

Reviews

“This seminal study should also be a treasure house for graduate students who are considering dissertation topics; also, it will provide them with a model for historical scholarship.” William T. Walker, “Sixteenth Century Journal”, 1995.

“..a comprehensive study…” Kenneth Bartlett, “Rivista di Studi Italiani”, 1997.


Sara wrote in 2000 This (very expensive!) book is still available and you can purchase it via DA Online Services. and she posted the first chapter on her website, which is shown below.


CHAPTER ONE
Traditions of Travel before 1570: Pilgrims, Students and Gentlemen

By frequent journeyings, thine shall be joys most rare.
Far through strange realms and courts thus shalt thou fare.
All kingly policies shalt thou learn there.1

Many precedents existed in medieval England for both the early modern enthusiasm for educational travel and the subsequent criticism of the practice. Despite the hardships and dangers of traversing the Channel and travelling on the Continent, hundreds of English men and women journeyed abroad in medieval Europe each year. This vigorous tradition prompted one chronicler to comment on the English people’s love of travel and the number of them abroad; “the peple of that londe is dispersede a brode thro alle the worlde, trawenge alle the worlde to be a cuntre to theyme.”2 Apart from diplomatic, merchant and military traffic, medieval Englishmen travelled abroad as pilgrims, knights and scholars. Pilgrimage provided many men and women with the excuse to indulge their curiosity about the world beyond England, nobles journeyed to the tournaments in France, and large numbers of scholars travelled to the universities on the Continent. Although travel for educational purposes was a well established practice for educated medieval Englishmen, these scholars were not the direct predecessors of early modern educational travellers. By the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries political conditions and the changing emphasis of education for the gentleman stimulated by the civic humanism of the Renaissance united to create a new type of educational traveller, a man who travelled not only for scholarly accomplishment but also to study the world about him to fit himself for service to state and prince. This traveller was the direct predecessor of the educational traveller of the late sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. Many of these medieval and early Tudor travellers attracted public criticism, and some of the criticisms and images of pilgrims and, to a lesser degree, medieval scholars, reemerged in the public comment over educational travel in early modern England.

Pilgrimage is a good example of a practice that, although dangerous and costly, attracted large numbers of English men and women, noble and ordinary, throughout medieval English history. The English passion for pilgrimage began early. In his History of the English Church and People Bede wrote that by the late seventh century “many English people vied with one another in [making a pilgrimage to the holy sites abroad], both noble and simple, layfolk and clergy, men and women alike.”3 The three most popular destinations for English pilgrims, as they were for European pilgrims generally, were Jerusalem, Rome and St. James of Compostella in Spain.4 The Holy Land remained the most desired destination for pilgrims, but wars, cost and the sheer difficulty of the journey meant that Rome and St. James attracted more pilgrims throughout the centuries. It is doubtful that many English pilgrims could have emulated the Wife of Bath’s excursions to Rome, St James, and Bologna as well as her three pilgrimages to Jerusalem.5 Both G. B. Parks and John Allen have estimated the number of English pilgrims to Rome during the fourteenth to early sixteenth centuries. Their research indicates that between 75 and 200 English men and women journeyed to Rome in an ordinary year and as many as 800 in a Jubilee year.6 The records of the English Hospice in Rome reveal that many of these pilgrims, as Bede indicated, were of very ordinary status: tilers, cobblers, weavers, brewers, tanners and “rustics.”7 Nevertheless, it is probable that limitations of time and money made many English men and women, particularly those of humble status, plan a pilgrimage to a closer site than Rome; by the fifteenth century large numbers undertook the pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella in Spain. Records for 1434 show that the English authorities licensed pilgrim ships to carry over 2,600 pilgrims towards St. James.8 For a country of three million people or less before the sixteenth century,9 these figures indicate that substantial numbers of English men and women undertook a pilgrimage abroad. Many of these pilgrims found the journey itself as satisfying as the eventual destination. While journeying towards their main goal, most pilgrims took the opportunity to worship at the numerous shrines along the major pilgrimage routes. On the journey to Rome pilgrims satisfied both spiritual needs and worldly curiosities alike by pausing to pray before the hand of a miraculous virgin at Boulogne or before the head of St. John the Baptist at Amiens, or perhaps at the shrine of Our Lady of Rocamador in Guyenne, or before any one of the numerous holy places along the route. Such diversions not only satisfied the pilgrim’s worldly and spiritual curiosities, but they also provided him with ample material for exciting tales to tell his family and friends once home. No doubt, as J. J. Jusserand commented, the returning pilgrim fascinated many stay-at-homes; “he was a play in himself, a living story, he had on his feet the dust of Rome and or Jerusalem, and brought news of the ‘worshippers’ of Mahomet.”10

Church authorities continually taught that the object of pilgrimage could never be anything but spiritual salvation. Officially pilgrimage was an act of penance or thanksgiving. In the fifteenth century the English pilgrim William Wey listed ten justifiable reasons for embarking on a pilgrimage; these included the “virtue derived from the places visited, the indulgences granted for pious visits to great shrines, and the moral value of the sight of holy places and relics seen en route.”11 In keeping with these values Sir Robert Knolles obtained a licence to travel to Rome in 1389 for “the quieting of his conscience and the salvation of his soul.”12 At its most spiritually idealistic, a literal pilgrimage mirrored man’s lifelong spiritual pilgrimage towards grace and salvation. Although the prime motivation for many pilgrims was spiritual, less worthy motives also set some pilgrims on their paths – curiosity about the world beyond England, a desire to escape the routine of their lives, or by the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries merely a desire to take part in a pleasant social round. Undoubtedly, like Chaucer’s worldly Canterbury pilgrims, the promise of good fellowship and an entertaining journey encouraged many men and women to venture on a pilgrimage beyond England. A pilgrimage abroad provided for the majority of participants a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for adventure in both spiritual and worldly senses. Yet as man found his spiritual pilgrimage fraught with earthly temptations, so he found actual pilgrimage fraught with worldly pleasures and distractions.

As pilgrimage became increasingly popular across Europe after the eleventh century critics began to attack it as a practice that men and women corrupted with material or worldly desires. Some critics went so far as to imply that it was not the spiritual goals of pilgrimage that drew so many pilgrims on the road, but the temptations and distractions that a pilgrimage abroad offered. Criticism of the moral degeneration of English pilgrims abroad appeared as soon as large numbers of English men and women began to travel towards Rome. In 747 St. Boniface urged the English Church to,

forbid to matrons and veiled women the journey to Rome and the frequent halts which they make on the way thither and on the return. For the most part, they perish, few remaining pure. There are few cities in Lombardy or in France or in Gaul in which there is not an adulteress or a harlot of English race: which is a scandal and disgrace to your whole church.13
Six hundred years later similar “wenches” still plied their trade, trailing after their lovers, fat, lazy and false hermits who wound their slow and corrupt way to Walsingham.14 Religious reformers not only criticised pilgrimage as an excuse for the worship of images and for the Church’s practice of selling indulgences, many believed the final result of pilgrimage was only a journey towards laziness, vanity and idle living and the moral corruption of its participants. Some of the most vehement critics of pilgrimage in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries were the English Lollards, who particularly criticised the practice of pilgrimage for the moral corruptions of its participants.15 John Wyclif believed men and women should travel separately on their pilgrimages, for to travel in company was only to indulge in lechery.16 An early fifteenth-century manuscript, clearly Lollard invective, denounced pilgrimage because of the sexual depravity among pilgrims:

for comunely … pilgrimagis ben mayntenyng of lecherie, of gloterie, of drunkenesse, of extorsiouns, of wrongis, and worldly vanytes. For men [th]at may not haunt hore leccherie at home as [th]ei wolden, for drede of lordis, of maystris, and for clamour of ne[gh]eboris, [th]ei … go out of [th]e cuntrey in pilgrimage to fer ymagis, and lyuen in [th]e goinge in leccherye, in gloterie, in drunkenesse.17
Furthermore, the author complained, some men travelled abroad from a “grett wille … to se faire cuntreys” rather than from devotion to God or his saints.18

Critics also attacked pilgrimage for the avid curiosity in the world that many pilgrims displayed; perhaps their great wish to see far (or fair) countries drew them abroad rather than any devotion to a saint. Pilgrimage ‘accounts’ like Sir John Mandeville’s semi-mythical Travels only served to whet the curiosity of would-be pilgrims, and even genuine itineraries sometimes appeared to encourage curiosity; an itinerary of the late fifteenth century ended with the exhortation, “the further ye go, the more ye shall se and knowe.”19 The journey itself, not the devotional goal, became the object, and one of the general criticisms of pilgrimage was that it was nothing more than an excuse to travel abroad to satisfy curiosity. Thomas à Kempis criticised pilgrimage on these grounds in the mid-fifteenth century:

Many run to sundry places to visit the relics of the Saints …. Oftentimes in seeing those things, men are moved with curiosity and the novelty of sights, and carry home but little fruit of amendment; and the more so when persons run lightly hither and thither, without real contrition.20
The medieval Church taught that curiosity was a vice rather than an admirable quality. In medieval thought curiositas was a vice related to pride and sloth, and the temptation of curiositas generally referred to any morally excessive and suspect interest in observing the world, seeking novel experiences, or acquiring knowledge for its own sake. By the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries many believed the vice of curiositas directly threatened pilgrimage; a pilgrim’s curiosity about this inferior world might prevent him or her from reaching that “other land” of the Father.21

One of the most enduring images of the traveller, and certainly one of the most popular in early modern England, began in the medieval belief that travellers, particularly pilgrims, were habitual liars. An eighth-century critic of wandering clerical scholars complained that these vagabonds roamed from monastery to monastery, depleting both their host’s table and patience with their tale-telling:

Behold him now come from the Italian frontier, and a good fresh tale all about pilgrimage or captivity, entering the house with humbly bowed head, and lying hard till all the poor host’s poverty goes into the pot and on to the table: that host will be a well-picked bone in a day or two.22
By the fourteenth century English poets closely associated this vice of lying with pilgrims, and both Chaucer and Langland personified pilgrims as habitual liars. In The Hous of Fame Chaucer wrote that pilgrims travelled,

With scrippes bret-ful of lesynges,
Entremedled with tydynges. 23
Writing only a few years later Langland used very similar imagery:

Pylgrimis & palmers . plyghten hem to-gederes,
To seche seint Iame . and seyntys of rome,
Wenten forth in hure way . with meny vn-wyse tale[s],
And hauen leue to lye . al hure lyf-tyme. 24
By the early fifteenth century the belief that pilgrims were habitual liars crept into Lollard invective against pilgrimage. William Thorpe believed that if men and women “be a month out in their pilgrimage, many of them shall be, a half year after, great janglers, tale-tellers, and liars.” 25 The image of the pilgrim-liar continued well into the first half of the sixteenth century. In 1509 Alexander Barclay labelled pilgrims liars in his adaption of Sebastian Brant’s The Ship of Fools,26 and Thomas More’s rather lame attempt to defend pilgrimage in 1530 included an effort to defend the pilgrim from the popular charge of lying. More related the story of a worldly character who set out on a pilgrimage, more intent on seeing “Flaunders and Fraunce” than saving his soul, and who fully expected to find all the stories he had heard from fellow pilgrims completely false. Much to his amazement, the cynical pilgrim-cum-tourist found that not only were tales of pilgrims completely true, they were even modest in the face of reality. 27

Pilgrimage provided several images and criticisms of travellers that later re-emerged in the early modern debate over educational travel. Concerns about the opportunities for the English pilgrim to indulge in sexual licence while away from the stabilising influences of his or her home community were echoed in the natural concern of parents and moralists about the young student’s vulnerability to the fleshly temptations offered to him while touring the Continent. Straying from the narrowly defined ideal of both pilgrimage and educational tour through succumbing to a natural curiosity in the world and the new societies about them led to the condemnation of both pilgrims and educational travellers. If the pilgrim faced spiritual corruption, the educational traveller also faced moral, political and cultural corruption. The strongest image (or implicit criticism), however, which survived from the medieval into the early modern period is that of the traveller-liar. A popular concept in the medieval period, the identification of the traveller with the vice of lying survived into the early modern period to become one of the most popular images of the traveller, and the traveller-liar became a favourite butt of street jests in seventeenth-century England.

Education in medieval England had two principal goals – the education of the knight and the education of the clerk. In both these traditions travel abroad had its place. The English knight travelled to the Continent for the tourneying experience he could not gain in England. The medieval knight served his feudal lord and his king with his sword, and, as mimic battles, tournaments were ideal training and testing grounds for a knight’s military skills. The authorities periodically banned tournaments in England (for political reasons 28), and knights frequently travelled abroad for tourneying experience. Matthew of Westminster noted that it was customary for newly-made knights to travel to the Continent to show their mettle by feats of arms; at one time Henry III knighted eighty gentlemen who all went abroad to take part in tournaments.29 The splendour and excitement of French tournaments attracted English knights as much as the opportunity to test their military skills, for, as F. Warre Cornish remarked, the “colour of English chivalry was of a soberer hue than on the Continent.”30 Bored and impatient young noblemen, either waiting to inherit their land or with competent servants installed who managed their estates for them, travelled in search of excitement. Landless knights journeyed to the tournament in the hope of gaining a settlement. Tournaments eventually became more a social pastime, often held in conjunction with pageants and mummeries, than a sober practice of warfare. R. W. Southern notes that by the twelfth century the English nobility often travelled to the tournament as playboys and adventurers because they had nothing better to do; “they remained rootless and restless young aristocrats with no responsibilities at home.”31 After an impressively idealistic beginning the tournament degenerated into mere spectacle and pageantry, expensive, exclusive, a private diversion for the richest lords only.32 It is stretching the point too far to think of these tourneying knights as educational travellers; nevertheless, they do demonstrate the opportunity the medieval English aristocracy took of the excuse to travel abroad to the colour and excitement of the French court. Ostensibly participating in tournaments, realistically these nobles often did little more than indulge in an exciting and extravagant social round. Like the pilgrim, the opportunity to participate in the worldly pleasures and excitements available on the Continent corrupted the knight’s original purpose in journeying abroad.

Many scholars and students joined the pilgrims, knights, diplomats, merchants, businessmen and ordinary soldiers leaving medieval England to journey on the Continent. Many intellectually ambitious Englishmen travelled abroad to the famous centres of learning on the Continent. From the twelfth to the late fourteenth century large numbers of Englishmen seeking careers in either Church or state studied at the two major universities of Europe, Paris, famous for its teaching of the liberal arts and theology, and Bologna, the European centre for civil and canon law. Young men hoping to obtain a degree in medicine might travel to the school at Salerno, the chief medical school in medieval Europe. The confluence of large numbers of students from across Europe to the universities of Paris and Bologna resulted in the creation of ‘nations’ in both universities – collegia of scholars, masters and students that provided support for scholars from broad geographical regions. 33 While most universities were open to all free men without restriction, Paris was particularly notable for the welcome that it gave to men from across Europe. The major European universities thrived in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and their fame attracted many English students; Henry Hallam asserted that by 1200 Bologna and Paris were full of English students. 34 France and Italy were not the only destinations for English scholars; in the twelfth century a high proportion of the scholars who went to Spain in search of Arabic science were Englishmen.35 During the second half of the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries the number of foreign students began to ebb in the major European universities, particularly noticeable in the English-German nation at Paris where only a few students remained in 1383. The growing prestige of Oxford and Cambridge, division among the members of the University of Paris over the papal schism of 1378-1414, and the growing ferocity and extensiveness of the European wars at this time, especially between England and France, combined to keep many young scholars home. 36

Despite this decline in the numbers of English students travelling abroad, respectable numbers still attended the universities on the Continent during the fourteenth to early sixteenth centuries. This particularly applied to Italy, where the universities and academies retained or increased their prestige during the classical revival of the Renaissance. Bologna attracted numerous Englishmen in the fifteenth century; university records show that almost fifty Englishmen took doctorates in civil or canon law there, and doubtless many others studied at Bologna without proceeding to a degree.37 Over twenty Englishmen studied at Ferrara during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, some proceeding to degrees in either civil or canon law, arts, or theology.38 During the fifteenth century the university at Padua began to rival Bologna for fame in the study of civil law, and it also became important for students of medicine and theology. Eighteen Englishmen (from the records that survive) took degrees there during the course of the fifteenth century. A degree from one of these three Italian universities provided a man’s education with a lustre that many Englishmen considered Oxford and Cambridge powerless to give, and such a degree often became the key to diplomatic or administrative employment.39

Despite the long tradition of travel to the European universities from medieval England there was no strong tradition of public criticism associated with the practice as there was for pilgrimage.40 Nevertheless, individuals, whether foreigners or Englishmen, occasionally expressed some concern about the immorality of English scholars abroad. In the twelfth century Jacques de Vitry characterised English clerks travelling abroad as drunkards.41 A late medieval English priest, preaching to English commoners, used the example of an English student living an “euyll” life in Paris to demonstrate that a sinful life did not always end happily. This evil clerk, “as synnefull a wreche as euer anny myght be,” never heard mass and, if there was any wicked counsel about, would always be in the thick of it, never saying good when he might say evil. 42 Private criticism is virtually impossible to gauge before the fifteenth century. Extensive collections of English family letters from before the Tudor period have not survived, and individual letters surviving in state collections are rarely useful to evaluate personal opinion.43 In an attempt to piece together private family reaction to sons travelling abroad to study during the medieval period I have relied upon Charles Haskin’s study of medieval students’ letters from across Europe, including England.44 His study reveals that anxieties of sons and families in medieval Europe were remarkably similar to the anxieties expressed by families in later centuries. As occurred in early modern England, by far the largest element in sons’ letters home to their parents consisted of regular requests for more money. Parents, in their turn, expressed concerns about the idleness, disobedience and immorality of their sons.45 The relative lack of public criticism of medieval travelling scholars, despite their numbers, probably occurred because few social or ecclesiastical critics believed these travellers carried the same potential for social disharmony that pilgrims did. English pilgrims came from and returned into almost every level of society while medieval scholars remained individuals within a narrowly defined community whose activities rarely significantly affected the general community. It is no coincidence that the two popular institutions of travel, pilgrimage and early modern educational travel, attracted so much criticism; commentators believed that when their corrupted participants returned home they would adversely affect the general community by exposing them to the corruptions of the world.

The combination of several factors during the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries resulted in the emergence of a new type of educational traveller in the sixteenth century. The spread of humanism from Renaissance Italy northwards during the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries brought with it a renewed interest in the ancient ideals of civic life. Civic humanism demanded that pure scholasticism give way to the concept that a man’s education should prepare him for a life of service to his community, his prince and his state.46 In The Boke named the Gouernour (1531) Sir Thomas Elyot centred his discussion of the education of the gentleman on the principle of service to the state; “Semblable ordre will I ensue in the fourmynge the gentill wittes of noble mennes children, who, from the wombes of their mother, shal be made propise or apte to the gouernaunce of a publike weale.” 47 Political conditions, particularly the decline in the power of the nobility concurrent with the development of a powerful and prestigious court about the person of the monarch, combined with the new emphasis civic humanism gave to education and shifted the direction of the nobleman’s education away from military service to state service. The nobleman or gentleman’s heaviest responsibility now lay in the performance of public service, and he fulfilled this service in the role of adviser, diplomat, administrative officer, magistrate or provincial official. The role of the court grew more important as patronage, influence and ‘connection’ became potent factors in entering government service, acting as a stepping-stone to careers in arms, diplomacy and administrative employment.48 England’s growing participation in European affairs, particularly during the reign of Henry VIII, meant that the king needed about him men skilled in diplomacy and knowledgeable about the governments of the European countries. The aristocrat now served his monarch better with his wit than with his sword.

To make the gentleman fit for employment in the service of the state he required a basic education in the liberal arts, a training traditionally scorned by the medieval knight. Those noblemen and gentlemen who wished to pursue a career in their state’s service began to acquire educations in most of the subjects recommended by the humanists – languages, history, rhetoric, arithmetic, geography, philosophy and the classics. Unlike the medieval scholar, however, the gentleman did not immerse himself completely in scholastic study. When Sir William Cecil planned his son Thomas’ tour abroad in 1561 he confided to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton that he did not want his son scholarly learned but rather civilly trained. Cecil included in this civil training instruction in history and the modern languages of either French or Italian. 49 The English schoolmasters and universities could not teach the gentleman those subjects most useful to a man planning a career in the service of his state – learning in history, modern languages and the political and social institutions of foreign countries. In effect, a young gentleman could not acquire a thorough grounding in knowledge and understanding of the contemporary world while still in England. Observation and study of the world about him would grow to be as important to the well-rounded gentleman as book learning.

There was another area of education that the ambitious gentleman needed in his career at court and that many felt England lacked. Henry VIII not only developed his court as a major force in the machinery of administration but also as the cultural hub of England. About the magnificent person of the monarch the court developed into a glittering showcase of ceremony and display, a place of culture and brilliance. As well as scholastic ability and worldly knowledge, the ambitious gentleman also needed a good degree of competence in the arts of civil conversation, music, fencing, dancing, and ‘riding the great horse.’ Most Englishmen genuinely felt they could best acquire these skills attending European instructors, and, if such instructors were not available in England, then the young man would have to seek them abroad. Besides modern languages and history, Sir William Cecil required Thomas to undertake instruction in the courtly skills of dancing and expertise on the lute. 50

Travel abroad to acquire the skills needed by the new ‘Renaissance man,’ whether experience of the modern world or instruction in the finer arts of courtly accomplishments, gradually became an optional extension of the young gentleman’s education. The process grew slowly; an educational tour abroad was difficult, expensive, and sometimes dangerous, but the strong traditions of English travel abroad fostered its growth. Works like William Thomas’ Historie of Italie (1549) enhanced the traditional prestige of Italian universities for those young gentlemen who desired excellence in both the scholarly and the courtly accomplishments. Thomas believed that Italy led Europe in the arts of civility, and his glowing description of the country and its people encouraged gentlemen to study there. More gentlemen flocked to Italy to study than to any other nation in Europe, Thomas enthused, for in such cities as Padua, Ferrara and Pisa they found “excellente learned men, waged for the readyng of philosophie, of the ciuile lawes, and of all the liberall sciences.” Gentlemen students also patronised the “excellent maisters” who taught them to sing and to play upon all manner of instruments, while the “beste maisters of fence” honed the gentlemen’s skills on a variety of weapons. While spending the winter of 1548-1549 at Padua, Thomas claimed as the result of careful investigation that 1500 scholars studied there that winter, “wherof I dare saie, a thousande at the lest were gentilmen.” 51

Education generally was the great leveller in English society; a good education often became the key to success for a low-born citizen.52 This particularly applied to travel abroad, although numbers of ‘non-gentry’ educational tourists only began to grow in the second half of the sixteenth century. For those without the blood or the influence, the experience of travel abroad could serve as both passport into, and apprenticeship for, state service. The experience and education gained during a tour through Europe often became the cornerstone of a young man’s later career in the service of the ‘publike weale.’ In his quest for patronage and employment a young man emphasised any experience or education that he had gained abroad. When Thomas Starkey wrote to Thomas Cromwell in 1534 seeking employment in the king’s household, he cited his studies and experience in Italy. His letter not only reveals his ambitions for employment, but it also demonstrates the ideal of civic humanism:

bycause my purpos … was to lyue in a polytyke lyfe, I set my selfe now thes last yerys past to the knolege of the cyuyle law, that I myght therby make a more Aabyl & sure jugement of the polytyke ordur & custumys vsyd amonge vs here in our cuntrey, aftur thys maner in dyuerse kyndys of studys I haue [employed] myselfe, euer hauyng in mynd thys end & purpos, at the last here in thys cominyualty, where I am brought forth & borne, to employ them to some vse. 53
The belief that the gentleman should use his education to benefit his state was the foundation of civic humanism, and during the sixteenth century it became the principal argument for educational travel abroad. Starkey echoed his sentiments to Cromwell in the fictional dialogue between Reginald Pole and Thomas Lupset that he wrote in 1535 and subsequently presented to Henry VIII. Starkey had Lupset complain to Pole,

I have much and many times marvelled, reasoning with myself why you, Master Pole, after so many years spent in quiet studies of letters and learning, and after such experience of the manners of man, taken in diverse parts beyond the sea, have not before this settled yourself and applied your mind to the handling of the matters of the common weal here in our own nation, to the intent that both your friends and country might now at the last receive and take some fruit of your long studies, wherein you have spent your whole youth – as I ever took it – to the same purpose and end. 54

Like Elyot, Starkey was adamant that scholasticism for its own sake was useless, because it did nothing to benefit a man’s friends and country.55 Late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century apologists for the tour clung to this justification for travel abroad, and the image of the traveller benefiting the state with his experience became one of the major weapons in their attempts to negate the powerful images of that dangerous member of the community, the corrupted traveller. Nevertheless, as an ideal that truly motivated young men to travel abroad, the idea of travelling to serve the state probably died during the first half of the seventeenth century. 56

Criticism of this new breed of educational traveller was not widespread nor images of the corrupt traveller popular before 1570. Alexander Barclay’s 1509 verse on foolish students blundering ignorantly between the European universities was an isolated example reminiscent of medieval criticism of wandering scholars:

One rennyth to almayne another vnto fraunce
To parys padway Lumbardy or spayne
Another to Bonony, Rome or orleance
To cayne, to Tolows, Athenys or Colayne
And at the last retournyth home agayne
More ignorant, blynder and gretter folys
Than they were whan they firste went to the scolys. 57
Barclay’s verse was more a part of his criticism of foolish students generally rather than a precursor of post-1570 concern about the educational traveller. Even the popular medieval image of the traveller-liar only occurred spasmodically during the period 1500-1570. In the first half of the century families or individuals tended not to express any anxiety beyond natural concern regarding the safety of a child or relative abroad. In the 1530s Lady Lisle sent her youngest son, James Basset, to France to gain experience in modern languages and to meet those men who might be of use to him in a later career. None of the correspondence between the Lisles, James, his tutors and guardians betrays any unwarranted anxiety or expresses any awareness that travellers might be exposed to undue criticism. 58

A more revealing document of parental concern is the ‘contract’ William Broke’s father made him sign before his departure for France in 1541 (Appendix A). Lord Cobham’s concerns were not different from those of generations of fathers before him. The devotion expressed in the first two points are reminiscent of the devotion of the medieval pilgrim; William must ensure that no worldly fantasies corrupt his communion with God. This medieval piety contrasts sharply with the humanism evident in points three and eight; the young lord must study civil law, rhetoric and Greek and must also observe the ways of the countries he visits. He must be proficient in the lute, or in some other musical instrument, and, perhaps with his success at court in mind, William must not speak too “thicke.” Like every father concerned with his young son’s moral integrity while far from parental supervision and with a marriage obviously arranged, William’s father exhorted him to take no pleasure in the “abhominable synne of lechery”, and to “kepe [his] vessell cleane accordyng to the commandment of god.” 59 Twenty years later Thomas Cecil possibly made very similar promises to those of William Broke in the “little discourse” of intent and purpose he presented in writing to his father shortly before departing on his tour in 1561.60 William Broke proved more susceptible to his father’s wishes than did Thomas Cecil, who freely indulged in lechery, gambling and other unsavoury activities the moment he reached the Continent.

Despite little public attention given to the dangers of travel or to the corruption of educational travellers abroad in the first half of the sixteenth century, by 1561 there is some indication that the behaviour of the occasional “contrary” traveller influenced a few individuals to view travel negatively. Anne, Duchess of Somerset, expressed deep reservations about the practice of travel in a letter she wrote to Sir William Cecil early in 1561. Both Elizabeth and Cecil wanted the Duchess’ son, Edward, Earl of Hertford, to travel abroad, and Anne, driven by maternal concern, wrote to Cecil regarding her fears. Apprehension over Hertford’s frail constitution and the fact that the Duchess had already lost one “that had bene abrode and was comying homeward” compounded her fears regarding his journey, but the Duchess also had severe doubts about the viability of educational travel from her own observations of returning travellers:

I calle to mynd many whose travell hath Incresed theyr estymacyon, others agayn haue consumed theyr substans spent theyr tyme and lost credyte, thus I do see for the most part as travell ys agayne to the beter desposed, even so proves yt fruteles to the contrary sorte. 61
The Duchess’ letter demonstrates that, in her mind at least, there existed some concern about the corruption of English travellers abroad. Concern about the corruption, moral corruption particularly, of the traveller had existed for centuries, and in this sense there was nothing particularly unusual about the Duchess’ letter, yet her letter shows she had preconceived ideas about travel that in part prompted her letter to Cecil. Perhaps this indicates some emerging concern among individuals within the community about the practice of educational travel that had not yet been expressed publicly; the Duchess’ comment anticipated the public debate after 1570.

Comments from the same time indicate that Italy already had an image as a place of particular corruption for the traveller and suggest that other individuals shared Ascham’s attitude in 1564. Roger Ascham’s attack on Italian travel, printed in 1570 but written in late 1563 or early 1564, is surprising both in his bitter attack on Italy (considering his previous declared admiration for that country) and in the direction of the attack (towards the Machiavellian and Italianated atheist). Nevertheless, there are indications that, despite works that praised Italy like Thomas’, some individuals held deep reservations about both travel and Italian travel in particular prior to 1564. In early 1556 Anthony Viscount Montague wrote to Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire, anxiously inquiring after Devonshire’s safe arrival in Italy and expressing the hope that he would be able to avoid the numerous evils that would be daily before his eyes.62 It was, in fact, Sir Richard Sackville’s concern about Italian travel that prompted Ascham to attack the practice in The Scholemaster. In late 1563 Sackville had particularly asked Ascham to write a discourse on the education of the schoolboy and specifically to state his opinion on the “common going of Englishmen into Italy.” 63

Thomas Windebank’s attitude to Italian travel is particularly revealing. Windebank was the long-suffering tutor to Thomas Cecil during that young man’s lamentable tour of the Continent in 1561-1562. After a disastrous year spent in France watching Thomas waste his time and his father’s money in gambling and womanising, Windebank spirited Thomas through the Low Countries to Germany, where, through lack of opportunity, the young man’s behaviour underwent some degree of reformation. Just as Thomas appeared settled, Cecil horrified Windebank with the suggestion that Windebank and Thomas journey into Italy, as they were so close. Because Cecil had earlier threatened to withdraw his patronage from Windebank, in part blaming him for Thomas’ excesses, Windebank tried to change Cecil’s mind about such an adventure with extreme tact. He agreed that it might do Thomas some good to see Italy and to learn the language,

But as ther be Commodities, so is ther also grete danger in that Countrey of discommodities for yong men, by reason of the Inticements to pleasure & wantonnes that be there, from which Sir, (I must not disguise) I doubte much how I shall be hable to withholde him, hauing had som proofe allready to know what I may doo with him, during our being in france. 64
Windebank also cited the dangers of the heat and fruit and the considerable expense such a journey would entail. Cecil continued to push for a journey into Italy for Thomas, and, responding, Windebank again agreed that it might do Thomas some good to see the country, but it should be accomplished as rapidly as possible, “for … the lesse abode in that Countrey is the better.” 65 Surely, Windebank added, Cecil would prefer to call Thomas home rather than have him risk further hazards in “this troublesom worlde specially in that countrey, for many respects which I doo not saye without good cause.”66 Windebank did not want to accompany Thomas into Italy because he believed he could not keep him under control and feared the complete loss of Cecil’s patronage should Thomas’ behaviour suffer a relapse. His image of Italy as a country particularly conducive to the moral corruption of a young man because of the “inticements to pleasure & wantones that be there” corresponds with Montague’s concern for Devonshire’s moral and possibly spiritual integrity because of the numerous evils that would be daily before his eyes.

Windebank’s fears regarding Italian travel for the young man provide an interesting contrast with Sir William Cecil’s own views expressed in their correspondence. Unlike Windebank, Cecil was extremely keen to send Thomas into Italy, both to see the country and to learn the language. The only reservation he expressed was that Windebank and Thomas should pass “as vnknowne as ye maye, because of the malice that I know the papists ow me, and cold be content to avendg the same in my sone.”67 If there was any widespread public concern regarding Italian travel, it does not seem to have overly affected Sir William Cecil in late 1562. Cecil’s thoughts regarding Italian travel underwent a complete reversal after Ascham published his Scholemaster.68 When Cecil sent his youngest son Robert abroad in the early 1580s, he wrote for him a set of precepts to guide him through life. These precepts contained the following warning about Italian travel:

Suffer not thy sons to pass the Alps, for they shall learn nothing but pride, blasphemy, and atheism. And if by travel they attain to some few broken languages, they will profit them no more than to have one meat served in divers dishes. 69
This comment to Robert in the mid-1580s is markedly different from Cecil’s attitude in his letters to Windebank in late 1562. Although Thomas’ behaviour may have influenced Cecil’s change of heart regarding Italian travel, his remark regarding atheism clearly shows the influence of the public comment about and imagery of educational travel stimulated by Ascham’s Scholemaster.

An examination of the traditions of English travel abroad prior to 1570 is useful to demonstrate both the English enthusiasm for travel and the body of criticism that could attach itself to an institution of travel. Images and criticisms of pilgrims survived the demise of the pilgrimage and re-emerged among the images and criticisms that attached themselves to educational travel after Ascham’s attack. The temptations of the world that corrupted the pilgrim from the narrow road of his spiritual quest were still there and still as powerful when the educational traveller set forth across the Channel. Unrestrained curiosity about the world proved the downfall of the pilgrim, as it held grave dangers for the educational traveller, morally and politically, if not always spiritually. Moral corruption of the young man studying far from parental control worried early modern parents as much as it worried their medieval forebears. The ability of the young man to withstand the temptations available on the Continent remained one of the primary concerns of individuals within families during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Images survived from pilgrimage virtually intact; this not only applied to the traveller-liar but also to the morally corrupt traveller. As occurred with pilgrimage, the English love of foreign travel ensured that no matter to what heights public concern and virulent criticism grew, it in no way appeared to affect the growing numbers of young men participating in the educational tour. The English traditionally loved travel, they had always travelled, and they would always find an excuse to travel. In no small part the realisation of this fuelled the concern and criticism of educational travellers in early modern England. Ascham’s reservations about Italian travel were hardly surprising considering the privately expressed views of those about him. The bitterness of his attack, considering his personal admiration of Italy up to that point, probably was unexpected; the direction of his attack and the powerful imagery of the Machiavellian Italianate and atheistical traveller certainly was. In many senses, however, Ascham simply provided a new direction and a new impetus for a very long tradition of criticism of the English traveller abroad.


NOTES:
1 Cited in Edith Rickert, Chaucer’s World (1937: New York, 1962), p. 277, late fourteenth century.

2 Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden Monachi Cestrensis, Churchill Babington, ed. (London, 1865-1886), II, p. 169, the text of the anonymous fifteenth-century translator.

3 Bede, A History of the English Church and People, Leo Sherley-Price, trans. (Harmondsworth, 1968), pp. 280-281. Written during the eighth century.

4 See Jonathan Sumption, Pilgrimage, An Image of Mediaeval Religion (London, 1975); G. B. Parks, The English Traveller to Italy (Rome, 1954), I; The English Hospice in Rome, (various authors), The Venerabile, XXI (May 1962); and Margaret Wade Labarge, Medieval Travellers. The Rich and Restless (London, 1982), especially Chapter V, “Noble Pilgrims”, for some descriptions of medieval pilgrims and their journeys. John M. Theilmann, “Medieval Pilgrims and the Origins of Tourism”, Journal of Popular Culture, XX (1987), pp. 93-102, is also useful.

5 No wonder she knew “moche of wandryng by the weye”; Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Arthur Burrell, ed. (London, n.d.), Prologue, p. 12.

6 Parks, pp. 356-357 and 373-374; John Allen, “Englishmen in Rome and the Hospice 1362-1474,” The English Hospice in Rome, p. 58.

7 Taken from the lists of those staying at the Hospice during the period May 1479-May 1484, and November 1504-May 1507, printed in The English Hospice in Rome, pp. 109-141. Chaucer’s fellowship of Canterbury pilgrims included a yeoman, a haberdasher, a dyer, a carpenter, a weaver, a miller, and a carpet-maker.

8 Foedera, Thomas Rymer, ed. (1741: facsmile edition, Farborough, 1967), V, pp. 2-14.

9 See John A. F. Thomson, The Transformation of Medieval England, 1370-1529 (1983: London, 1989), Chapter I, “The Population of England,” pp. 9-16, particularly p. 11.

10 J. J. Jusserand, English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages, (1889: revised edition, London, 1961), p. 212. See pp. 192-243 for Jusserand’s discussion of pilgrims and pilgrimages.

11 Cited in M. J. Barber, “The Englishman Abroad in the Fifteenth Century,” Medievalia et Humanistica, XI (1957), pp. 69-77, quote cited on p. 74.

12 18 August 1389, Calendar of Patent Rolls, Richard II, IV (London, 1902), p. 94.

13 Cited in Parks, p. 30.

14 William Langland, The Vision of William concerning Piers the Plowman (circa 1387), the C text, Rev. Walter W. Skeat, ed. (London, 1873), pp. 3-4.

15 Although, as Christian K. Zacher notes, Curiosity and Pilgrimage (Baltimore, 1976), pp. 56-57, they objected to pilgrimage on many grounds: because it condoned the belief that Christ was more accessible in some places than others, it was spiritually redundant (since pilgrims began their journey cleansed by confession), and it encouraged men to pray to an assortment of statues, not directly to God or to the saints.

16 Thomas Arnold, ed., Select English Works of John Wyclif (Oxford, 1869), I, p. 83.

17 Anne Hudson, ed., English Wycliffite Writings (Cambridge, 1978), p. 86.

18 Ibid., p. 87.

19 Edited by C. Horstmann in Englische Studien, VIII (1885), pp. 277-284, cited p. 284.

20 Thomas à Kempis, On the Imitation of Christ (London, 1960), Book IV, chap. 1, p. 190.

21 Zacher, p. 4. In his study Curiosity and Pilgrimage Zacher examines the close relationship in fourteenth-century thought between the vice of curiositas and the practice of pilgrimage.

22 Cited in Helen Waddell, The Wandering Scholars (London, 1927), p. 164.

23 Geoffrey Chaucer, The Hous of Fame (circa 1375), Albert C. Baugh, ed., Chaucer’s Major Poetry (London, 1963), Book III, ll. 2123-2124.

24 Langland, p. 3.

25 The Examination of Master William Thorpe, priest, of heresy, before Thomas Arundell, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the year of our Lord, M.CCCC. and seven, in Alfred W. Pollard, ed., Fifteenth Century Prose and Verse (Westminster, 1903), p. 141.

26 Alexander Barclay, trans., The Ship of Fools, T. H. Jamieson, ed.? (New York, 1966), II, p. 68. Barclay translated this work from Sebastian Brant’s Ship of Fools, but as both Barclay and his modern editor noted, he extensively adapted and edited the work for an English audience, adding, deleting and changing the text; ibid., I, pp. xviii and 17-18. Barclay doubled the length of Brant’s original, and so effectively localised the fools within England “that few would have believed his book of foreign origin;” Albert C. Baugh, ed., A Literary History of England (London, 1976), p. 351.

27 Thomas More, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, The Complete Works of St. Thomas More (New Haven, 1963-1987), Thomas M. C. Lawler, Germain Marc’Hadour and Richard C. Marius, eds. of vol. VI, Part I, p. 228.

28 Tournaments were the subject of political controversy and government interference from their earliest days. A tournament that got out of hand became a mini war; Richard Barber, The Knight and Chivalry (Ipswich, 1974), p. 183.

29 R. Coltman Clepham, The Tournament: Its Periods and Phrases (London, 1919), p. 14. Tournaments did not always take place in grassy fields under the sun. In 1420 there were several curious subterranean combats between French and English knights, held by torchlight in the mines under Montereau; ibid, p. 53.

30 F. Warre Cornish, Chivalry (London, 1911), p. 51.

31 R. W. Southern, Medieval Humanism and Other Studies (Oxford, 1970), p. 143.

32 Richard Barber believes that the very nature of the tournament’s origins meant that it inevitably declined once it became the place for peacock vanities rather than strong arms and stout hearts; Barber, p. 159.

33 Other universities established nations as well. See Pearl Kibre, The Nations in the Medieval Universities (Cambridge, Mass., 1948). The term nation is somewhat misleading. These collegia contained students from many countries. For example, the English nation at Paris university contained Scandinavians, Germans and Slavs as well as Englishmen. Students focused their loyalty on the corporate identity of these nations rather than on the geographical regions and peoples they represented; James Bowen, A History of Western Education (London, 1975), volume II of Civilization of Europe Sixth to Sixteenth Century, pp. 114-115.

34 Henry Hallam, Introduction to the Literature of Europe (London, 1860-1864), I, p. 16n. 4 volume set

35 Southern, p. 171.

36 Kibre, pp. 108-109.

37 R. J. Mitchell, “English Law Students at Bologna in the Fifteenth Century,” English Historical Review, LI (1936), pp. 270-287.

38 Mitchell, “English Students at Ferrara in the XV. Century,” Italian Studies, I (1938), pp. 75-82.

39 Mitchell, “English Students at Padua, 1460-75,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, fourth series, XIX (1936), pp. 101-116, particularly p. 116. Nicholas Pronay observes in his discussion of the Chancery and Council at the end of the fifteenth century that most of the men about Henry VII in the top Chancery positions and in the Council had spent extensive amounts of time either studying or travelling abroad; “The Chancellor, the Chancery, and the Council at the End of the Fifteenth Century,” in H. Hearder and H. R. Lyon, eds., British Government and Administration (Cardiff, 1974), pp. 87-103. See also Janice Gordon Richter, “Education and association: the bureaucrat in the reign of Henry VI,” Journal of Medieval History, XII (1986), pp. 81-95.

40 Although the Church sometimes criticised wandering clerical scholars, “a loosely organised international fraternity … which was a burlesque of the monastic orders.” In 1247 the Council of Salzburg bitterly attacked these carefree and irreverent clerics; “they go about in public naked, lie in bake ovens, frequent taverns, games, harlots, earn their bread by their vices, and cling with inveterate obstinacy to their sect, so that no hope of their amendment remaineth”; Joseph M. Tyrrell, “The Goliardi – Wandering Poets of the Middle Ages,” Journal of Popular Culture, IV (1971), pp. 920-930, specifically p. 927. See also Waddell, pp. 263-264.

41 Majorie Rowling, Everyday Life of Medieval Travellers (New York, 1989), p. 108.

42 Woodburn O. Ross, ed., Middle English Sermons (London, 1940), p. 176. Because the author of the sermon wrote in English, Ross speculates that he meant it for the uneducated who could not understand Latin, p. lv.

43 G. R. Elton, England, 1200-1640 (London, 1969), pp. 154-155.

44 Charles H. Haskins, “The Life of Medieval Students as Illustrated by Their Letters,” American Historical Review, III (1898), pp. 203-229.

45 Ibid., particularly pp. 208-214.

46 See Bowen, pp. 207-211 and 398-402; J. H. Hexter, “The Education of the Aristocracy in the Renaissance,” Reappraisals in History (London, 1963), pp. 45-70, particularly p. 63.

47 Sir Thomas Elyot, The Boke named the Gouernour (1531), Henry Herbert Stephen Croft, ed. (London, 1880), I, p. 28.

48 See for example R. A. Griffiths, “Public and Private Bureaucracies in England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, fifth series, XXX (1980), pp. 109-130, particularly pp. 122-123; also Lewis Einstein, The Italian Renaissance in England (New York, 1902), pp. 58-59.

49 Sir William Cecil to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, 8 May 1561, CSPF (1561-1562), Elizabeth, no. 187, pp. 104-105.

50 Thomas Windebank to Sir William Cecil, 12 November 1561, PRO SP 12/20/59.

51 William Thomas, The Historie of Italie (London, 1549), folios 2v – 3.

52 See Louis B. Wright, Middle Class Culture in Elizabethan England (1935: London, 1964), pp. 44-48 particularly, and Chapter III, “The Concern Over Learning,” pp. 43-80 generally, for the commoner’s use of education as the key to success.

53 Thomas Starkey to [Thomas Cromwell], 1534, Harleian 283/129v – 130.

54 Thomas Starkey, A Dialogue Between Reginald Pole & Thomas Lupset, Kathleen M. Burton, ed. (London, 1948), pp. 21-22.

55 See Elyot, I, p. 116.

56 See discussion below.

57 Barclay, I, p. 145.

58 The Lisle Letters, Muriel St Clare Byrne, ed. (Chicago, 1981), III, pp. 106-133, IV, pp. 468-525.

59 Harleian 283/33.

60 Thomas Windebank, Thomas’ tutor while abroad, referred to this document in a letter he wrote to Sir William Cecil on 9 August 1561, PRO SP 12/19/29.

61 Anne, Duchess of Somerset to Sir William Cecil, 19 April 1561, PRO SP 12/16/130.

62 Anth. Visct. Montague to the Earl of Devonshire, 23 February 1556, CSPD (1547-1580), Mary, vol. 7, item 8, p. 75.

63 See Roger Ascham’s preface to The Scholemaster, Dr. Giles, ed., The Whole Works of Roger Ascham (London, 1864-1865), III, p. 83.

64 Thomas Windebank to Sir William Cecil, 18 November 1562, PRO SP 12/25/109.

65 Windebank to Cecil, 12 December 1562, PRO SP 12/26/13.

66 Ibid.

67 Cecil to Windebank, 16 November 1562, PRO SP 12/25/102.

68 See below, Chapter II, pp. 52-58, for an analysis of Ascham’s attack on Italian travel.

69 “Certain Precepts for the Well Ordering of a Man’s Life,” (circa 1584) in L. B. Wright, ed., Advice to a Son (Ithaca, 1962), p. 11.


©1999 Sara Douglass Enterprises

Educational Travellers: Popular Imagery and Public Criticism in Early Modern England

In 1578 Sir Philip Sidney remarked to his brother Robert that “ere it be long … wee travaylers shalbe made sporte of comodies.” #1 Whatever prompted Sidney’s remark, whether his knowledge of the Elizabethan theater and sense of humor or perhaps his desire to warn Robert from youthful extravagances while abroad, it proved, regrettably for the public reputation of travelers, unerringly accurate. Sidney referred to educational travelers (seventy years later popularly labelled Grand Tourists) who, for the duration of the seventeenth century, suffered a particularly unfortunate public reputation that was actively encouraged by popular literature and the theater. Travelers, particularly educational travelers, were not only the comic relief of early modern English drama and popular literature, they were also darkly threatening Machiavellian Italianates, moral degenerates, cultural renegades and habitual liars. #2 Popular tracts and pamphlets and the stage promoted images of educational travelers to a remarkable degree, and it is doubtful that the substantial early modern debate over the relative merits of educational travel would have been quite so extensive if it were not for the exposure travelers received in popular literature and drama. This is particularly apparent in the instance of three images or characterizations. The popular images of the Italianated traveler, the foolish traveler, and the traveler-liar all directly influenced the public debate over educational travel, the first by encouraging and fueling the public debate in its initial stages, the latter two by directly contributing material to that debate.

Although Englishmen had traveled abroad in small numbers for educational purposes for many generations, travel abroad in order to complete a young gentleman’s education rapidly gained popularity during the last decades of the sixteenth century and became an established institution, the Grand Tour, during the succeeding century. Traveling abroad enabled the Englishman to study the political, social and cultural institutions of other nations, knowledge he was unable to learn properly within England. Time spent among other nationalities enabled him either to learn foreign languages or to perfect their pronunciation, essential if he wished to obtain employment in the bureaucratic or diplomatic service, or simply take his place as a sophisticated gentleman within society. A tour abroad also ideally matured a young Englishman, polished his manners and demeanor, and created a more worldly and civil gentleman who could fully participate in public and private life on his return. The experience of the ‘Grand Tour’, as it became known during the seventeenth century, rapidly became a badge of social sophistication for any ambitious young gentleman.

Yet as quickly as educational travel gained popularity among late sixteenth-century Englishmen it began to attract a considerable amount of criticism. Roger Ascham’s bitter attack on Italian travel in The Scholemaster (1570) properly initiated the early modern debate over the practice of educational travel, and by the early seventeenth century Englishmen of many degrees and occupations participated in a spirited and often vitriolic debate over the merits and failings of the tour. Moralists, churchmen, essayists, educationalists, privy councillors and travelers themselves, indeed anyone who thought they had something to offer, contributed their arguments to the public debate. #3 Richard Mulcaster, in his educational tract Positions (1581), debated the merits of educational travel, while both George Pettie and Lewes Lewkenor in prefaces to their translations of continental authors criticized English travelers for their poor behavior abroad. #4 Critics claimed that English travelers returned home corrupt shadows of their former selves, their spiritual, political, moral and cultural integrities, as well as their innate good sense, ruined through sustained contact with corrupt European nationalities and societies. The influence of such corrupt men, they argued, might well disrupt if not destroy the harmony of English society. Many critics completely denied the usefulness of educational travel, claiming that because so many young Englishmen returned corrupted the practice should be denied to all but the most mature and trustworthy men. The criticisms of educational travelers, and their increasingly negative public images, forced apologists for the practice to admit the many dangers of traveling abroad while claiming that the benefits of the tour outweighed the risks. It should be noted, however, that neither criticism or negative public images stopped the many hundreds of Englishmen who participated in educational travel each year.

Many factors ensured both the virility and the longevity of the public debate over educational travel and the continuing criticisms of educational travelers. Traditional xenophobia, an equally traditional belief that most European societies (but particularly those of Italy and France) were morally corrupt, a more recent fear of Catholic enmity, and a growing belief that imported European culture might swamp the traditional English heritage all fed the early modern concerns about sending young Englishmen abroad for their final educational gloss. However, one of the most important factors in the virility of the public debate was the rapid adoption of the educational traveler as a figure of caricature in Elizabethan and Stuart popular literature and the theater. In no small part popular hatred of foreigners, particularly strong in the late sixteenth century and the early seventeenth century, helped to establish the popularity of caricatures of English travelers who, through their absorption of foreign culture, came home Frenchfied or Italianated corruptions of their former identities. The xenophobic London mob continually proved an embarrassment to Elizabeth and her Privy Council, who tried through various proclamations to keep the peace and protect the persons of foreigners within London. #5 The London mob continued to prove an embarrassment to the early Stuart authorities: “Foreigners are ill regarded not to say detested in London,” remarked Horatio Busino in 1617, recalling an incident where a woman had attacked a member of the Spanish embassy with a cabbage stalk, urging the gathering crowd to daub the poor man with the soft stinking mud of the London streets. #6 While this anti-foreign sentiment encouraged popular caricature of travelers who returned home clad in foreign fashions and exhibiting foreign mannerisms, by the mid-seventeenth century the very popularity of these caricatures then encouraged the London mob to single out returning travelers for attacks. In 1658 the London mob attacked the unfortunate Sir John Reresby, just returned from France with his two French footmen, forcing Reresby and his footmen to take refuge in a nearby house. #7

Although educational travel offered its participants considerable benefits, as its defenders constantly argued, the extensive criticism and negative imagery of the educational traveler in the theater and throughout the printed medium (particularly in popular literature) overshadowed the arguments of the apologists and helped to create an environment where criticism flourished. Popular literature and theater not only extended knowledge and discussion of educational travel to the thousands of commoners who crowded the theaters in late Elizabethan and early Stuart England, they also influenced more educated and sophisticated Englishmen. Sometimes decades after popular literature and the theater popularized a particular image of the educational traveler, the same image reappeared in conduct or advice literature as well as more general literature. This particularly applied to the images of the foolish traveler and the traveler-liar. In many instances it appears that authors of these more serious works had little idea that images popularized in the theater and in popular literature in previous decades had influenced their writings.

One of the major factors in the virility (and virulency) of public criticism about educational travel was the popular success of the image of the immoral and irreligious Machiavellian Italianated traveler during the late Elizabethan period. Roger Ascham, sometime tutor to Queen Elizabeth, first presented this threatening image to the English public in The Scholemaster, published posthumously in 1570. Primarily a treatise on the education of young boys, The Scholemaster included a section criticizing the growing practice of sending young men to travel Italy at the end of their formal education. #8 Ascham argued that these young men, perverted by the innumerable pleasures and vices of Italy, returned home corrupted in religion and morals; irreligious and immoral Machiavellian Italianates who would not hesitate to scheme against state and church while outwardly honoring both. Ascham adapted a little known European proverb to personify these wicked travelers, “Inglese Italianato è un diabolo incarnato” [an Italianated Englishman is a devil incarnate]. #9 Drawing upon existing but separate concerns about Machiavelli’s policies, growing official concern about perceived atheism within English society, belief in the subtleties and treacheries inherent within the Italian character, and the negative influences of Italian culture within England, Ascham created a single powerful and extremely threatening character that Elizabethans readily accepted. In a political climate where intricate plots to unseat Elizabeth and restore the influence of the Catholic church abounded in the late 1560s and early 1570s, it is not surprising to find numerous murmurs about Machiavellian Italianates within the highest political circles, #10 but the success of the character in Elizabethan popular literature and the theater encouraged the wider ‘appeal’ of the Machiavellian Italianate generally and the Italianated traveler particularly and focused public attention on the growing practice of educational travel.

While Ascham’s image of the wicked Italianated traveler influenced many commentators on educational travel, #11 the image proved particularly attractive to poets, playwrights and pamphleteers. As George Gascoigne’s comments demonstrate, the description of the Italianated English traveler as a ‘devil incarnate’ appeared very quickly in verse. Writing on the effects of pride on English travelers, George Gascoigne commented in Councell giuen to master Bartholmew Withipall (1572),

Beleeue me, Batte, our Countreymen of late
Haue caughte such knackes abroade in forayne lande,
That most men call them Deuils incarnate,
So singular in theyr conceites they stande. #12
The character of the Italianated traveler, the devil incarnate, became a popular villain of the Elizabethan literature and drama. #13 The Italianate traveler was chiefly recognizable through two principal characteristics: vice always corrupted the Englishman into the Italianate, and the depth of this corruption enabled the traveler to dissemble and scheme against family, neighbor and state. Both William Rankins and Thomas Lodge increased the malevolence of the Italianated traveler as they detailed his destructive capability within English society. Rankins discussed in detail the destructiveness of the English Italian in The English Ape, the Italian imitation, the Footesteppes of Fraunce (1586). Abhorring nature and its divine creation, these Italianates studied methods of mischief and destruction like true Machiavellians. #14 Rankins emphasized the destructive power within English society of the Italianate’s imported viciousness, pride and ambition, castigating the English for their willing acceptance of this evil. #15 In his discussion of the incarnate devils of his age in Wits Miserie and the Worlds Madnesse (1596) Thomas Lodge endued his character of Scandal and Detraction with all the attributes of Ascham’s Italianate, although he did not specifically name the vice Italianate. A widely travelled devil, Scandal and Detraction spoke many languages, read Machiavelli, embraced atheism and enticed discontented men into conspiracies. His daily companions, in fact, were disobedience and rebellion. #16 He generally affected a surly attitude in his daily demeanor, skulking through the back alleys of St. Paul’s with heavy and superstitious looks, his left hand continually on his dagger while he plotted mischief against his neighbor. #17 Scandal and Discontent was particularly malevolent because he hated his country, his prince and the privy councillors, not because he could find any fault with them but from “meere innated and corrupt villanie.” #18

By the late sixteenth century but more noticeable in the early seventeenth century the immoral, dangerous and often Machiavellian Italianated traveler evolved into the utterly polluted and corrupt traveler of popular verse and drama. Although rarely named as Italianate, this character still exhibited many of the attributes of Ascham’s Italianate. John Marston’s corrupted traveler, Bruto, in Metamorphosis of Pigmalion’s Image: And Certain Satires, returned home knowlegeable in the art of poisoning, and carrying the diseases of “Naples pox and Frenchman’s dalliance”. #19 The most recognizable elements of the Italianate in the image of the corrupted traveler was the very depth of his corruption and the threat he posed to society. In Samuel Daniel’s The Qveenes Arcadia (staged in 1605) the corrupt traveler Colax completely poisoned England’s goodness with the infections he brought home from abroad. #20 Colax exhibited strong shades of Machiavellian subtlety, although Daniel never explicitly connected his scheming to Machiavellian policy. George Chapman’s Antonio in Two Wise Men and All the Rest Fooles (staged in 1619) was another corrupt traveler who displayed elements of the Machiavellian Italianate. Corrupted from his previously honest nature by his travels through Italy, Antonio was a cunning and mischievous character who constantly plotted the deceit and ruin of others. Like Colax, Antonio was capable of infecting the whole country with his corruptions. #21

During the 1580s and 1590s the term and concept of malcontent became synonymous with the Italianate traveler. #22 The malcontent not only grafted well to the established character of the immoral Italianate, it contributed several new characteristics. As well as a morally corrupt and irreligious schemer, the malcontent was a discontented, sad man, disillusioned with life and with England in particular. Like John Marston’s Italianated and malcontent traveler, Bruto, the malcontent Englishman dressed in black rather than the usual flamboyant colors of the Elizabethan courtier and affected a grave and somber attitude:

Look, look, with what a discontented grace
Bruto the traveller doth sadly pace
‘Long Westminster! #23
His corruption abroad caused the malcontent’s melancholy and his deep discontent with life itself. #24 Shakespeare’s sad Italianate traveler Jaques in As You Like It (staged 1599), perhaps the best known melancholic traveler of the early modern English stage, explained that his melancholy was the final product of the contemplations of his travels. Yet along with his melancholy, Jaques also carried home “all th’ embossed sores and headed evils” he had collected during his travels. #25 Bruto and Jaques were not simply comical characters; along with their melancholy and “sad array” they carried enough corruptions and harbored enough schemes to disrupt English society.

The popular image of the threatening Italianate traveler remained viable only as long as the specter of Italianism remained a threat in English society. The pronounced influence of Italian culture in England waned significantly after the early seventeenth century, and reaction against French influence in society again became the issue for moralists and nationally conscious Englishmen amid the growing French influence at the court of James I. #26 After 1600 characterizations of the Italianated traveller gradually became less sinister as writers invested them with increasing overtones of ridicule. Although appearances the character of the Italianated traveler dwindled during the early Stuart period, its importance as a popular figure of parody cannot be underestimated. The image of the Italianated traveler in moralistic tracts, satire, and popular prose pamphlets reached a wide audience spanning political circles and the court to literate servants and tradesmen. #27 It directly affected discussion, debate and advice about educational travel during the late sixteenth century and established the issue of educational travel as a subject of intense public debate in the seventeenth century. Via the Italianated traveler, popular literature and drama popularized knowledge of the practice of educational travel and promoted the image of the educational traveler among the lower orders of English society, but the image it promoted was overwhelmingly negative. For the 16,000 to 24,000 Londoners who paid a penny each to attend the public theaters each week in late Elizabethan England the predominant image of the educational traveler presented to them was that of the wicked Italianate; occasionally foolish, always corrupt. #28 The real importance of the strong, sometimes inflammatory, image of the wicked Italianate traveler in the theater and popular literature is that it not only propelled the hitherto low-key issue of educational travel to the forefront of public attention and discussion, it badly damaged the public credibility of educational travel. Before the publication of The Scholemaster in 1570 and the subsequent popularity of the image of the Italianated traveler, educational travel had enjoyed a relatively favorable, if low-key, reputation. After 1570 it is very difficult to find public comment about educational travel that is not either outright criticism or defensive apology. Many travelers who printed accounts of their travels felt compelled to defend travel from its critics. Thomas Coryate included a defensive essay praising travel by Hermannus Kirchnerus in his Coryats Crudities, a relation of his travels abroad published in 1611, while Fynes Moryson, directly after the divine Joseph Hall had further attacked travel in 1617, appended a defense of travelers in his Itinerary, answering one by one all of the public criticisms of travelers. #29

The popularity of the wicked Italianated traveler in Elizabethan drama and satire ensured the success of the image of the foolish traveler. Despite the very threatening aspects of so many characters of wicked Italianates, the foolish Italianated traveler surfaced extremely quickly after the publication of The Scholemaster. George Gascoigne’s characterization of devils incarnate in Councell giuen to master Bartholmew Withipall was the first reference to devils incarnate in print after Ascham’s diatribe, yet Gascoigne portrayed these Italianated travelers as foolish rather than wicked:

Nowe, sir, if I shall see your maistershippe
Come home disguysde and cladde in queynt araye,
As with a piketoothe byting on your lippe,
Your braue Mustachyos turnde the Turky waye,
A Copotain hatte made on a Flemmish blocke,
A nightgowne cloake downe trayling to your toes,
A slender sloppe close-couched to your docke,
A curtold slipper and a shorte silke hose:
Bearing your Rapier pointe aboue the hilte,
And looking bigge like Marquise of All-Beefe,
Then shall I compte your toyle and trauayle spilte. #30
As Gascoigne’s characterization of the devil incarnate demonstrates, the Italianate’s affectations of clothes and postures made him a ready subject for parody; he was, in Gabriel Harvey’s words, “a passinge singular odd man.” Harvey, although he employed more biting satire, used imagery similar to Gascoigne’s when he satirized the Italianated Earl of Oxford during the 1570s. Harvey attacked the ridiculous and effeminate mannerisms of the Italianate who appeared within English society with “cringeinge side necke, eies glauncinge, fisnamy smirkinge,” and wearing “Largbellid kodpeasid dubletts [and] unkodpeasid halfehose.” #31 John Lyly, also writing in the 1570s, not only endowed his character Philatus in Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit with Machiavellian and Italianate characteristics but also faulted him for his ridiculous and affected dress that transformed him into a misshapen monster. #32 During the 1590s representations of Italianated and malcontent travelers rapidly gained large measures of foolishness. In 1592 Thomas Nashe gave his malcontent traveler in Pierce Penilesse characteristics of the Italianate as well as ridiculing him as a complete fool; “You shall see a dapper Iacke, that hath been but ouer at Deepe, wring his face round about, as a man would stir vp a mustard pot, & talke English through ye teeth, like Iaques Scabd-hams, or Monsieur Mingo de moustrap.” #33 By the early seventeenth century the follies of the Italianate quickly began to outweigh his more threatening aspects. John Cooke’s foolish Stains in Greene’s Tu Quoque (staged in 1611) and George Chapman and James Shirley’s Freshwater in The Ball (staged in 1632) were more fool than threat. During the first three decades of the seventeenth century the image of the foolish traveler completely absorbed the image of the Italianate.

Fostered by its initial association with the popular Italianate traveler, during the late sixteenth century the foolish traveler gradually became an established character in its own right. Foolish travelers adopted ridiculous fashions, affected equally ridiculous mannerisms, and appeared unable manage a single sentence of English without corrupting it with lisping and foreign words. Following his description of the foolish malcontent traveler in Pierce Penilesse, Thomas Nashe portrayed travelers as fools who wore ridiculous fashions in his novel The Vnfortunate Traveller:

From Spaine what bringeth our Traueller? a scull crownd hat of the fashion of an olde deepe porringer, a diminutiue Aldermans ruffe with short strings like the droppings of a mans nose, a close-bellied dublet comming downe with a peake behinde as farre as the crupper, and cut off before by the brest-bone like a partlet or neckercher, a wide paire of gascoynes, which vngatherd wold make a couple of womens ryding kirtles. #34
Literary and dramatic parodies of the foolish traveler continued to gain popularity during the early seventeenth century. Sir Thomas Overbury’s affected traveler took pains to appear ridiculous, with “his pick-tooth … a maine part of his behaviour”; #35 Ben Jonson’s deformed traveler, Amorphus, in Cynthia’s Revels not only chewed his toothpick, but “[trod] nicely, like the fellow that walkes vpon ropes,” #36 while Barnaby Rich introduced his fantastic traveler in Faultes, Faults and Nothing Else but Faultes with these words:

Heere comes a spruce fellow now, and if hee be not alied to the Fantasticke, yet I am sure the foole and he are so neare a kinne, that they can not marrie, without a Licence from the Pope. Would ye knowe who it is? Mary sir, it is a Traveller. #37
The image of the foolish traveller was so recognizable by 1613 that the “fantastick” traveller who entertained Queen Anne in her progress towards Bath in April of that year needed no props for identification beyond his “silken sute of strange Checker-worke, made vp after the Italian cut, with an Italian hat, a band of gold and silke, answering the colours of his sute, with a Courtly feather [and] long guilt spurres.” #38

Although there was no significant criticism or representations of travelers as fools outside of literary and dramatic ridicule until the 1620s, comments from some far-sighted individuals and concerned parents demonstrated a certain sensitivity about the issue. Rather like Sidney’s comment to Robert, the author of a very late-sixteenth letter of advice for travelers variously ascribed to Sir Fulke Greville, Sir Francis Bacon and Sir Thomas Bodley warned travelers not to indulge in an “infectious collection” of the vices and fashions of people abroad, for these would only be of use to humorists for jests and table-talk. #39 In 1614 Sir John Holles’ instructions to his son John indicate the influence the popular image of the foolish traveler could have on an individual:

Sum empty heads (as our merchants to the Indians carry bells, glasses, knyves, and suche lyke) bring only howme with them crooke shoulders, unstayed countenances, mopps and maws thrusting outte the crupper, and head forward, a shaling pace, affected gestures, curchies, salutations, and odd fashions of apparell speeche [and] diet. #40
About the same time that Holles wrote, Henry, Earl of Northumberland, also briefly cautioned his son Algernon that, “the ends of yowr trauells is not to learn apishe iestures, or fashons of attyres.” #41 Although a few late sixteenth-and early seventeenth-century travelers did return home beribboned and mincing fops, the habit was not widespread (unlike late seventeenth-century travelers). It is probable men like Holles and Northumberland were as much influenced by the public caricature of foolish travelers as they were by actual examples. Despite such timely warnings by a few individuals, the extremely popular image of the foolish traveler of the late sixteenth century ensured that by the early seventeenth century the educational traveler had become a favorite subject both of humorists and of table-talk.

Before the third decade of the seventeenth century general criticism of travelers had focused on their tendency towards moral, spiritual and cultural corruption. Sixteenth-century advice, like that of Sir John Stradling, tended simply to remind the traveller that the “mimicall, and miserable” affectation of fashions and mannerisms was “most vile, base, and of all least beseeming a noble personage.” #42 Only a few essayists included brief criticisms or comments about foolish travelers during the first two decades of the seventeenth century. #43 However, by the 1620s the popular image of the foolish traveller was so well established and influential that many of the defenders of educational travel became particularly sensitive about the difficulty travellers had in maintaining their public credibility and reputation. Criticisms from men like Samuel Purchas, who made use of popular caricature to observe that some foolish travelers brought home nothing but a “few smattering termes, flattering garbes, Apish crings, foppish fancies, foolish … disguises [and] the vanities of Neighbour Nations,” #44 stimulated many authors of advice literature to caution travelers not to provide further encouragement for critics and material for popular parody through irresponsible behaviour.

One of the first authors of advice literature to incorporate the stereotype of the foolish traveler into his work was Owen Feltham who wrote about 1620. Feltham suggested that inherently foolish gentlemen should not travel abroad at all, thus not only saving their own reputation but that of their families and country’s as well. Travel only made the foolish gentleman worse, argued Feltham, for, “It makes a wise man better, and a foole worse. This gaines nothing but the gay sights, vices, exoticke gestures, and the Apery of a Countrey. A Trauailing foole is the shame of all Nations. Hee shames his owne, by his weakenesse abroad: He shames others, by bringing home their follies alone.” #45 In his Instructions for Forreine Travell (1642) James Howell used imagery strongly reminiscent of popular caricature to criticise Englishmen who, by, “their gate and strouting, their bending in the hammes, and shoulders, and looking upon their legs, with frisking and singing do speake them Travellers. Others by a phantastique kind of ribanding themselvs, by their modes of habit, and cloathing … do make themselves knowne to have breathed forraine ayre.” #46 Other seventeenth-century authors of advice literature for travelers like Thomas Neale also incorporated advice for young men not to come home “empty, unskilfull gull-gallant[s] [who] being intoxicated with the heat of vaine-glory, and selfe love … boile out trifles, and ridiculous language.” #47 Neale cautioned that wise travelers should never fall into the trap that caught lesser gentlemen and “babble, wander, discourse foppishly, and ramble without feare or wit from one place to another.” Travellers should only use their tongues to seek knowledge and speak of other men’s actions rather than their own. #48

Although the influence of popular caricature of the foolish traveler is clearly evident on the seventeenth-century debate about educational travel, the process is even more apparent with popular parody of the traveler-liar. From very early in the medieval period critics identified the vice of lying with travelers. #49 By the fourteenth century English poets closely associated the vice of lying with pilgrims, and both Chaucer and Langland personified pilgrims as habitual liars. #50 In the fifteenth century the association of lying with pilgrims even entered Lollard invective. #51 The medieval pilgrim’s reputation for lying continued into the early sixteenth century; at least two texts included the image of the pilgrim-liar. #52 The first Elizabethan to publicly resurrect the idea that travelers related fantastic tales was William Bullein in his Dialogue against the feuer Pestilence (first published 1564). Since Protestant Englishmen no longer participated in pilgrimage, Bullein connected the habit of lying to a secular traveler, Mendax, who told outrageous tales of his travels abroad to his eager if naive dinner-table companions. Mendax swore that he had witnessed mermaids climb trees, parrots play chess, strange women who hatched their children from eggs, and men, even stranger, who shed their skins like snakes. #53 Other Elizabethan writers quickly adopted the image of the lying traveler, often connecting it with the name of the medieval Sir John Mandeville, the author of an extremely popular, if fantastic, book of tales. #54 The vice of lying rapidly became associated with the popular character of the educational traveler, especially the character of the foolish educational traveler. Sir John Melton’s traveler compounded his foolishness by lying in the effort to appear a wise and learned man; #55 Ben Jonson’s foolish and deformed Amorphus lied “cheaper then any begger, and lowder then most clockes;” #56 and Barnaby Rich’s farcical travelers emptied themselves of what little wit they had originally possessed, returning home sprouting lies along with their other foolish faults. #57 George Chapman and James Shirley’s Freshwater, who epitomized the foolish traveler with his affected gait, speech and toothpick, also suffered the embarrassing personal problem of extreme bad breath that hindered his ability to tell lies convincingly. #58

In prose, drama and verse authors portrayed travelers as habitual liars. In Nicholas Breton’s An Olde Mans Lesson and a Young Mans Loue (1605) Chremes asked his son to relate truthfully his observations made during his travels, “for Trauailers are giuen (some say) to begull the worlde with gudgins.” #59 In 1578 John Lyly somewhat ruefully commented in Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, “alas, Euphues, what truth can there be found in a traveller.” #60 As the character of Freshwater demonstrates, the traveler-liar provided as useful an image for playwrights as it did for pamphleteers and essayists. “Hast learned any wit abroad?” Rhetias caustically asked Menaphon in John Ford’s The Lover’s Melancholy (staged in 1628), “Canst tell news and swear lies with a grace, like a true traveller?” #61 Shakespeare, who incorporated so many of the popular images of the educational traveler into his plays, included a brief satirical defense of traveler-liars in The Tempest (staged 1611). Having witnessed the entrance of some strange apparitions, Antonio exclaims that now he can believe anything, even the lies of travelers. #62 The image of the traveler-liar was the strongest of all the images of the traveler in jests and merry tales, although the travelers personified were often not specifically educational travelers. Jests and merry tales usually revolved around the character of a rather foolish traveler who normally did not realize that his audience saw straight through his lies. Anthony Copley included a typical example in Wits Fittes and Fancies in 1595:

A Trauailer vsed to tel monstrous lyes of his iourneyes, and of the places and things he had seene. And being one day in conuersation with many Gent. & bosting that he had seen these & these places: One of them said vnto him: Belike you are seen in Cosmography: No (he answered) I neuer was in that City yet, but indeed I remember I once trauailed in sight of it, leauing it somwhat on the left hand, but such was my hast, that I ouerpast it, as I haue done many a faire citie more in my dayes. #63
This jest is only one of many examples scattered throughout the jest books and books of merry tales of early modern England.

In a similar reaction as that to the image of foolish travelers, concerns about the traveler’s reputation for lying began to appear among individuals before it appeared in the public debate. In the instance of lying travelers it was travelers themselves who, by the late sixteenth century, began to publicly demonstrate their sensitivity to the image of the traveler-liar. In 1590 Edward Webbe protested the truth of his adventures when he published an account of his travels. Webbe claimed that,

in this booke there is nothing mentioned or expressed, but that which is of truth: and what mine own Eies haue perfectly seene. Some foolish persons perhaps will cavel and say, that thiese are but Lies and fables: and that it conteyneth nothing else: but to those I aunswere, that whatsoeuer is herein mentioned, he whosoeuer he be, that … doubt of the trueth hereof, let him but make inquirie of the best and greatest trauellers and Merchants about all this land: and they doubtles will resolue them that it is true which is here expressed. #64
Webbe then proceeded to belie his words and further tarnish the reputation of the traveler by relating tales of Prester John’s court, beasts with four heads, and wild men chained to posts who devoured every man, woman and child who were foolish enough to come within reach. #65 In 1601 William Parry published his account of the travels of Sir Anthony Sherley. He began his account with the words, “It hath beene, and yet is, a prouerbiall speech amongst vs, that Trauellers may lie by authority.” Most travelers were honest, argued Parry, but their inexperienced listeners often branded them liars because they could not understand what they heard. #66

After approximately forty years of popular caricature and some concern among travelers themselves the image of the traveler-liar proved strong enough and accepted enough to appear in general criticisms of travelers and in advice literature for travelers. In 1617 in his book Quo Vadis? Joseph Hall contemptuously dismissed the habit of some travelers to “tell wonders to a ring of admiring ignorants.” #67 In the same year, Fynes Moryson advised travelers not to be too quickly drawn by the promise of a crust of bread to relate their journeys and observations, believing that the tales of a few imposters had tarnished genuine travelers’ reputations. #68 James Howell also advised travelers not to exaggerate what they had seen on their return; some, it appeared, had a custom to relate strange tales and wonders in the manner of Sir John Mandeville. #69

Other works of conduct literature mentioned traveler-liars, and a few warned educational travelers about exaggerating their stories on their return home. Sir Francis Bacon recommended that travelers be reticent in telling stories on their return home, Thomas Fuller cautioned travelers not to report improbable truths, “especially to the vulgar, who insteed of informing their judgements will suspect thy credit,” #70 while Richard Brathwaite included in The English Gentleman (1630) a warning to all men employed in state business to beware of travelers and their lies. No men were more subject to relating strange tales, he cautioned, than travelers, who “arrogate to themselves a libertie of invention in this kinde.” Statesmen should always be wary of giving credence to the foreign news they heard, “for divers there be who presuming of the distance of place, will invent and vent their inventions to curry favour.” Brathwaite advised the virtuous statesman to interrupt these traveler-liars and shame them by telling even more outrageous tales. #71 A few years later Brathwaite not only legitimized the image of traveler-liars in his Survey of History, but felt it necessary to explain the reasons for their fault:

Such as lye on their Travaile, either doe it for admiration, or having run upon the adverse shelvs of a deplored fortune, are enforced to invent strange things for the reliefe of their dejected estate. Such as publish lesse than they have seene, (omitting things of the greatest consequence, to satisfie our humors with trifles) doe it to gaine pregnancy, or singularity rather of conceit … they insert frivolous occurents, borrowed, or (it may be) invented by their own phantasticke braines. #72
Once authors like Brathwaite incorporated such statements in their treatises, the traveler-liar had completed the transition from imaginary character to legitimate public nuisance.

The early modern debate over educational travel encompassed other issues besides those discussed in this paper. The danger to the traveler’s spiritual integrity (whether from the forces of Catholicism or irreligion), his moral integrity and his national and cultural identities all concerned many English men and women, and were widely debated throughout the seventeenth century. In these issues popular literature and drama reflected and promoted, rather than influenced or shaped. In the instances of the images of the Italianated, foolish and lying travelers, however, popular literature and drama played a far more active and influential role. The promotion of the image of the Italianated traveller after the publication of The Scholemaster actively encouraged discussion about educational travel and gave this discussion a predominantly negative bias. Promotion of the images or characters of the foolish and lying travelers actively contributed material to later generations’ criticism of and debate over educational travel. Yet a similar relationship between popular parody and public criticism or professional comment does not always appear for other groups or professions. In the instance of lawyers and physicians, two of the most popular figures of parody in Elizabethan and early Stuart England, popular literature and the stage simply reflected established public and professional opinion. Popular satire of the legal profession during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries attacked lawyers for the obscure language they used, the bribes they accepted, and for their habit of ignoring the just cause of the poor client in favor of the unjust cause of the rich client. Likewise physicians also employed obscure language, were avaricious and often refused to treat the poor. In all these instances, however, centuries of profesional debate over the corruptions of legal and medical practitioners influenced early modern caricature. Popular imagery did not to any significant degree shape or contribute to the public debate surrounding the legal and medical professions. #73 So why was popular literature and the stage so influential in its relationship with the public debate over educational travel? The most significant factor is that not only were groups like the legal and medical professions established and well recognized by the late sixteenth century, but criticism, advice and even caricature of these practices had also been established for generations, if not centuries, by this time. To a large extent, public opinion was already well formed by the time the lawyer and physician became two of the most popular subjects for caricature in the rapidly expanding market for popular literature in the Elizabethan and early Stuart periods. The opposite is true in the instance of educational travel, and this was primarily because educational travel was a relatively new practice in Elizabethan England. There was very little established opinion, advice or criticism (or even general public awareness) about educational travelers before 1570 (apart from some generalized approval). To a significant degree, general public awareness and subsequently opinion of educational travel developed because of popular parody. The vast majority of English men and women would have known very little, if anything, about the practice of educational travel before they met the Italianated traveler upon the Elizabethan stage and in popular pamphlets. Very few positive representations of educational travelers appeared in the theater; corrupt or foolish travellers usually overshadowed any strong and wise travellers within the same play. #74 There are many other factors, mentioned earlier, which fed the debate over educational travel, but among them, the role of the popular theater and press cannot be underestimated. The public reputation of the developing practice of educational travel in early modern England proved particularly vulnerable to popular parody.

Notes:
1. Philip Sidney to Robert Sidney, 1578, Albert Feuillerat, ed., The Prose Works of Sir Philip Sidney (Cambridge, 1962), III, p. 125. I am indebted to Prof. J. H. Forse for his comments and suggestions regarding this article. CHECKED

2. For an extended discussion of the seven major images of educational travelers in early modern England see Sara Warneke, “A Ship of Shadows: Images of the Educational Traveller in Early Modern England,” unpublished Ph. D. thesis, University of Adelaide, 1991.

3. See ibid for a discussion of the public debate over travel as it related to the images of travellers; also Clare Howard, English Travellers of the Renaissance (London, 1914), Lewis Einstein, The Italian Renaissance in England (New York, 1902), Chapter III, “The Traveller,” pp. 115-154, and George Brauer, The Education of a Gentleman (New York, 1959), for some summaries of the criticisms of travellers.

4. Richard Mulcaster, Positions Wherin Those Primitive Circvmstances be Examined, Which are Necessarie for the Training vp of children, either for skill in Their Booke, or health in their bodie (1581), Robert Herbert Quick, ed. (London, 1888), pp. 208-212; Steeven Guazzo, The Civile Conversation of M. Steeven Guazzo (1581 translation), Sir Edward Sullivan, ed. (London, 1925), 2 volumes, first three books translated by George Pettie, the fourth by Barth. Young, I, pp. 9-10; Gasper Contareno, The Commonwealth and Government of Venice, Lewes Lewkenor, trans. (London, 1599), “Preface to the Reader”, folio A.

5. “Proclamation for Keeping the Peace in London”, 13 August 1559, and “Proclamation for the Good Teatment of the French Ambassador”, 18 April 1581, are two examples.

6. Relation of Horatio Busino, State Papers and Manuscripts Relating to English Affairs. Venice and Northern Italy, XV (1617-1619), pp. 60-61. Zera S. Fink, “Anti-Foreign Sentiment in Tudor and Early Stuart Literature”, unpublished Ph.D. dissertaion, Northwestern University, 1931, throughly examines anti-foreign sentiment in early modern English literature.

7. James J. Cartwright, ed., The Memoirs of Sir John Reresby (London, 1875), p. 37. CHECKED

8. Roger Ascham, The Scholemaster (1570), Dr. Giles, ed., The Whole Works of Roger Ascham (London, 1864-1865), III, pp. 147-167.

9. Ibid., p. 156. See H. E. G. Rope, “The ‘Italianate’ Englishman,” The Month, new series, XI (1954), pp. 93-94, and George B. Parks, “The First Italianate Englishman,” Studies in the Renaissance, VIII (1961), pp. 199-200, for the origins of this proverb.

10. Warneke, “Ship of Shadows,” pp. 115-116.

11. William Harrison, The Description of England (1587), Georges Edelen, ed. (New York, 1968), pp. 114-115, Bartholomew Batty, The Christian Mans Closet (London, 1581), pp. 51-52, the anonymous author of The Office of Christian Parents (London, 1616), pp. 134-135, and Thomas Fuller, The Holy State and the Profane State (1642), Maximilian Graff Walten, ed. (New York, 1966), II, p. 159, are but four examples.

12. George Gascoigne, Councell giuen to master Bartholmew Withipall a little before his latter iourney to Geane (1572), William Carew Hazlitt, ed., The Complete Poems of George Gascoigne (London, 1870), I, p. 375.

13. Among many others, the pamphleteers Thomas Nashe and Robert Greene used the character of the Italianate traveller in their works, as did the playwrights William Shakespeare, Samuel Daniel and George Chapman. Examples below.

14. W[illiam] R[ankins], The English Ape, the Italian imitation, the Footesteppes of Fraunce (London, 1588), p. 5.

15. Ibid., pp. 2-8.

16. [Thomas Lodge], Wits Miserie and the Worlds Madnesse (London, 1596), p. 18.

17. Ibid., p. 17.

18. Ibid.

19. John Marston, Metamorphosis of Pigmalion’s Image: And Certain Satires (1598), “Satire II,” in A. H. Bullen, ed., The Works of John Marston (London, 1887), III, pp. 274-275.

20. Samuel Daniel, The Qveenes Arcadia, Alexander B. Grosart, ed., The Complete Works in Verse and Prose of Samuel Daniel (London, 1885), III, pp. 227-228. In citing the date of the first known production of plays I use the dates listed by Alfred Harbage, Annals of English Drama, 975-1700, revised by Samuel Schoenbaum and Sylvia Stoller Wagonheim (London, third edition, 1989).

21. George Chapman, Two Wise Men and All the Rest Fooles (London, 1619), p. 32, and throughout.

22. See Fink, “Anti-Foreign Sentiment”, pp. 237-252. Both Rankins and Lodge associated the word malcontent with their Italianate characters; Rankins, p. 8; Lodge, p. 17.

23. Marston, Metamorphosis of Pigmalion’s Image, “Satire II,” p. 274.

24. Fink, “Anti-Foreign Sentiment,” p. 245. See Lawrence Babb, The Elizabethan Malady (East Lansing, 1965), pp. 73-76, for his discussion of melancholy, malcontents and the traveller. The Italianate traveller, he states, was the immediate cause of the melancholia in English life and literature. L. C. Knights, Drama and Society in the Age of Jonson (Harmondsworth, 1962), Appendix B, pp. 261-274, also includes a discussion of seventeenth-century melancholy.

25. William Shakespeare, As You Like It (staged 1599), Act II, scene vii, Act IV, scene i.

26. Lewis Einstein observed that by the early seventeenth century the Italian influence in England was stationary, if not actually waning; “the want of fresh vigor to reënforce its claims, perhaps no less than the attacks of the moralists, had brought it to a standstill.” French and Spanish cultural influences, then growing in strength, filled the vacuum; The Italian Renaissance in England (New York, 1902), p. 175. See also David Starkey, et al, The English Court from the Wars of the Roses to the Civil War (London, 1987), pp. 173-225, for complaints about the ‘French’ nature of James’ court.

27. Sandra Clark, The Elizabethan Pamphleteers (London, 1983), pp. 17-25, for the audience reached by pamphlet literature.

28. Peter Burke, “Popular Culture in Seventeenth Century London,” Barry Reay, ed., Popular Culture in Seventeenth Century England (London, 1985), pp. 39-40, for the type and numbers of Londoners attending the public theaters in 1600. In 1599 Thomas Platter noted that in London two or three plays ran daily at two o’clock in the afternoon; Leonard R. N. Ashley, ed., Elizabethan Popular Culture (Bowling Green, 1988), p. 7. In 1600 so many unlicensed theaters and actors lured “the people dayly from their trade and worke to mispend their tyme” that the Privy Council attempted to restrict the numbers of both theaters and actors; minutes of the Privy Council, 22 June 1600, Acts of the Privy Council of England, XXX (1599-1600), pp. 395-398.

29. Hermannus Kirchnerus, “An Oration” in Thomas Coryate, Coryats Crudities (London, 1611), and Fynes Moryson, An Itinerary (London, 1617), Part III, Booke 1, Chapter 1, pp. 1-11. Joseph Hall, Quo vadis? A Ivst Censvre of Travell as it is commonly vndertaken by the Gentlemen of our Nation (London, 1617). .See also discussion of Edward Webbe and William Parry below, p. [ ].

30. Gascoigne, Councell…, Poems, I, p. 375.

31. Gabriel Harvey, Letter-Book of Gabriel Harvey, Edward John Long Scott, ed. (London, 1883-1884), p. 98.

32. John Lyly, Euphues: the Anatomy of Wit, Euphues & His England (1578 and 1580), Morris William Croll and Harry Clemons, eds. (New York, 1964), p. 165. Like Harvey, Lyly no doubt aimed his barbs at members of the court and the Inns of Court circles who sometimes returned home from their travels in the late sixteenth century clad in outlandish fashions

33. Thomas Nashe, Pierce Penilesse his Svpplication to the Divell (1592), R. B. McKerrow, ed., The Works of Thomas Nashe (Oxford, 1958), I, p. 169.

34. Thomas Nashe, The Vnfortvnate Traveller (1594), H. F. B. Brett-Smith, ed. (Oxford, 1927), pp. 95-96.

35. [Sir Thomas Overbury?], The Overburian Characters (1614), W. J. Paylor, ed. (Oxford, 1936), p. 11.

36. Ben Jonson, Cynthia’s Revels (staged 1600), C. H. Herford and Percy Simpson, eds., Ben Jonson (Oxford, 1925-1952), IV, Act II, scene iii, pp. 72-73.

37. Barnaby Rich, Faultes Faults and Nothing Else But Faultes (1606), Melvin H. Wolf, ed. (Gainesville, 1965), p. 8.

38. Thomas Campion, A Relation of the Late Royall Entertainment Given by the Right Honorable the Lord Knowles (London, 1613), folio A2 verso.

39. Sir Fulke Greville, Certaine Learned and Elegant Workes (London, 1633), pp. 297-298. This is the first publication of a widely circulated late sixteenth-century manuscript letter of disputed authorship. James Spedding, in James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis and Douglas Heath, eds., The Works of Sir Francis Bacon (London, 1868-1890), IX, pp. 2-5 and 16-19, ascribed it to Bacon. In the late seventeenth century Richard Parr claimed Sir Thomas Bodley was the author; Life of … James Usher (London, 1686), pp. 17-19 (after main body of text). See also Hugh Maclean, “Reliquiae Bodleianae: Letter CCXXXII,” Bodleian Library Record, VI (1960), pp. 537-541.

40. John Holles, “Instructions for travell that my father gave me the 22 July 1614,” P. R. Seddon, ed., Letters of John Holles 1587-1637, Thoroton Society Record Series, XXXI (Nottingham, 1975), p. 52. Conduct literature did not promote the image of the foolish traveller at the time Sir John wrote his instructions.

41. “Instructions for the Lord Percy, in His Trauells; Given by Hen. E. of Northumberland,” Antiquarian Repertory, IV (1809), p. 374.

42. Sir John Stradling, A Direction for Trauailers (London, 1592), folios C verso – C2.

43. For example, John Melton, A Sixe-Folde Politician (London, 1609), pp. 52-53, and Anthony Stafford, Meditations, and Resolutions, Moral, Divine, Politicall (London, 1612), p. 60.

44. Samuel Purchas, Hakluytus Posthumus, or Purchas His Pilgrimes (Glasgow, 1905-1907), I, p. xliv, originally published 1625.

45. Owen Feltham, Resolves, a Duple Century (London, 1628), p. 271.

46. James Howell, Instructions for Forreine Travell (1642), Edward Arber, ed. (London, 1869), p. 65.

47. Thomas Neale, A Treatise of Direction, How to travell safely, and proftably into Forraigne Countries (London, 1643), pp. 36-37.

48. Ibid., pp. 36-42.

49. For some eighth-century criticism of wandering scholars as habitual liars, see the passage cited in Helen Waddell, The Wandering Scholars (London, 1927), p. 164.

50. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Hous of Fame (circa 1375), Albert C. Baugh, ed., Chaucer’s Major Poetry (London, 1963), Book III, ll. 2123-2124; William Langland, The Vision of William concerning Piers the Plowman (circa 1387), the C text, Rev. Walter W. Skeat, ed. (London, 1873), p. 3.

51. The Examination of Master William Thorpe, priest, of heresy, before Thomas Arundell, Archbishop of Canterbury, the year of our Lord, M.CCCC. and seven, in Alfred W. Pollard, ed., Fifteenth Century Prose and Verse (Westminster, 1903), p. 141.

52. Alexander Barclay’s adaption of The Ship of Fools (1509), T. H. Jamieson, ed.? (New York, 1966), II, p. 68; Desiderius Erasmus, “The Religious Pilgrimage,” The Colloquies of Erasmus, E. Johnson, ed. and N. Bailey, trans. (London, 1878), II, pp. 1-37.

53. William Bullein, A Dialogue against the Feuer Pestilence, Mark W. Bullen and A. H. Bullen, eds. (London, 1888), pp. 94-111. The 1888 edition is a collation of the 1564, 1573 and 1578 editions of A Dialogue.

54. For instance Joseph Hall, Virgidemiae (1598), Geoffrey Grigson, ed., The Oxford Book of Satirical Verse (Oxford, 1980), p. 36.

55. Melton, A Sixe-Folde Politician, pp. 52-53.

56. Jonson, Cynthia’s Revels, Act I, scene iii, pp. 72-73.

57. Rich, Faultes, pp. 8-9.

58. George Chapman and James Shirley, The Ball (London, 1639), Act II, folio C, first staged 1632.

59. Nicholas Breton, An Olde Mans Lesson, and a Yovng Mans Loue (1605), Alexander B. Grosart, ed., The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton (Edinbugh, 1879), II, p. 13.

60. Lyly, Euphues, p. 61.

61. John Ford, The Lover’s Melancholy (staged 1628), in Havelock Ellis, ed., John Ford (London, 1888), Act II, scene i, p. 32.

62. Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act III, scene iii.

63. Anthony Copley, Wits Fittes and Fancies (London, 1595), p. 42. Copley translated this jest book from a Spanish jest book, but he inserted many of his own. These are easily discernable from the Spanish jests for, as Copley wrote himself, “they taste more Englishlie,” Epistle Dedicatory, folio A2 verso. This example is one of Copley’s own jests.

64. Edward Webbe, Edward Webbe … His Trauailes (1590), Edmund Goldsmid, ed. (Edinburgh, 1885), “The Epistle to the Reader,” p. 9.

65. Ibid., pp. 23-24.

66. William Parry, A new and large discourse of the Trauels of sir Anthony Sherley Knight, by Sea, and ouer Land, to the Persian Empire (London, 1601), pp. 1-2. The proverb originated in Barclay’s Ship of Fools, II, p. 68.

67. Joseph Hall, Quo vadis?, pp. 35-38.

68. Fynes Moryson, An Itinerary, Part III, Booke 1, Chapter 2, p. 36.

69. Howell, Instructions, p. 64.

70. Sir Francis Bacon, “Of Travel,” Works, VI, p. 418; Fuller, II, p. 161.

71. Richard Brathwaite, The English Gentleman (London, 1630), pp. 137-139.

72. Brathwaite, A Survey of History: Or, a Nursery for Gentry (London, enlarged edition, 1638), pp. 36-37.

73. Apart from popularizing certain terms: ‘petty-fogger’ in the case of legal practitioners, and ‘quaksalver’ or quack in the case of medical practitioners are the two best examples.

74. For example, the Italianated traveller, Antonio, overshadowed the wise traveller, Proberio, in George Chapman’s Two Wise Men. An exception to this rule was Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher’s Queen of Corinth (staged in 1617) in which two foolish travellers only enhanced the positive image of the two wise travellers (especially Act II, scene i).


©1996 Sara Warneke / Sara Douglass Enterprises

A Taste for New-Fangleness: The Destructive Potential of Novelty in Early Modern England

The sixteenth century was a troubled time for the English people. Religious turmoil, political uncertainty and deep social tensions placed enormous pressures on traditional structures and values; dire predictions of the imminent breakdown of English society litter late sixteenth-century social commentaries and treatises. Seeking explanations for the breakdown of traditional values and society, many early modern writers seized and further developed the medieval idea that the English character was flawed by the nature of the elements about them. Some believed that as an island people, the English were so negatively influenced by the waxing and waning of the moon and the ebb and flow of the tides that they were completely unable to remain constant to their monarch, their social hierarchy, their religion or their culture. Doomed to inconstancy, the English became a people addicted to novelty, to ‘new-fangleness’, an addiction that many early modern Englishmen feared would result in the inevitable destruction of English society.

Medieval and early modern popular thought traditionally assigned certain characteristics to different nationalities.1 The Italians were subtle, crafty and treacherous. The Spaniards were proud, the Scandinavians were trusty warriors, the Italians were jealous and given to whoring, while the Germans and Dutch suffered the embarrassing reputation of drinking so heavily that “they wyl pysse as they doo syt, and other whyle the one wyll pis in a nother shoes.”2 Both European and English writers portrayed the English people as an inconstant race, a people so continually fascinated with novelties they were always ready to abandon the old and trusted at the first glimpse of the new-fangled. The association of the English people with a love of novelties and an inconstant nature dates back to the medieval period. One of the best medieval descriptions of the English people’s flawed character came from the pen of the fourteenth-century chronicler Ranulph Higden in his Polychronicon, a chronicle that remained very popular for three hundred years:3

The peple of Englonde is fulle curious to knowe straunge thynges by experience, deprauenge theire awne thynges [thei] commende other straunge, vnnethe other neuer contente of the state of theire degre, transfigurenge to theyme that is congruente to an other man.4
Higden also believed the English were a people “apte moche to wylenes and decepcion, but importune a fore the dede, levenge [lightly] a thynge y-begunne.” It was this characteristic, Higden continued, which made Pope Eugenius state that the English were an inconstant people, “apte to euery thynge.”5 Significantly, this meant that while the English were almost invincible abroad, they could be easily defeated within their own land.6 While the English seemed capable of uniting against a foreign enemy, when left to their own company it appeared that civil dissension would come easily to these flawed people.

The medieval concept of the English people’s flawed character might have faded into obscurity had it not been for the witty reworking of the image by Andrew Boorde during the 1540s. In the Introduction of Knowledge (written about 1542), a work that repopularized the idea that certain characteristics could be identified with certain peoples or nationalities, Boorde firmly saddled the English people with the label of inconstancy. Beneath a drawing of a naked Englishman holding a length of cloth in one hand and a pair of tailor’s shears in the other, and completely unable to decide what type of garment to fashion, Boorde wrote,

I am an English man, and naked I stand here,
Musyng in my mynde what rayment I shal were;
For now I wyll were thys, and now I wyl were that;
Now I wyl were I cannot tel what.
All new fashyons be plesaunt to me;
I wyl haue them, whether I thryue or thee.7
Boorde was not only concerned with the social aspect of the Englishman’s inconstancy in fashion (although many writers would later deepen this association). It was the novelty in fashion that delighted, yet confused, the Englishman. Boorde’s image of the indecisive Englishman, torn this way and that by the lure of novelty, proved immensely popular, and successive writers referred to it when discussing the Englishman’s flawed character.8

From the mid-sixteenth century the characterization of the inconstant Englishman, corrupted by the lure of novelties and new-fangleness, quickly became a standard image, increasingly used by many English authors to explain the changes around them. Moralists might criticise courtiers for their new-fangled fashions, and both state and Church might attack the lower orders for adopting novelties in social and political behaviour, but many critics were quick to argue that the entire English race was given to novelties. From bookseller to privy counsellor, from balladeer to antiquary, men muttered about their compatriots’ inconstant natures and love of novelties. Robert Copland lamented that books of virtue lay unsold on shelves as readers clamoured for “tryfles” and “wanton toyes.” For the old they had no use; they sought for “thynges a-new.”9 By the 1560s the image of the indecisive Englishman addicted to novelties was sufficiently established to be cited in private correspondence; in 1567 Edward Moorcroft wrote Sir William Cecil that “every country has its fashion of vice … our country folks in new fangledness.”10 Moralists often complained that it was a fault of humankind generally to be drawn towards novelties, but it seemed to be more specifically a fault of the English. While this was bad enough, it also appeared, as William Harrison pointed out in the late 1580s, that the English had a particular love for foreign new-fangles.

such, alas, is our nature that not our own but other men’s do most of all delight us; and for desire of novelty we oft exchange our finest cloth, corn, tin and wools for halfpenny cockhorses for children, dogs of wax or of cheese, twopenny tabors, leaden swords, painted feathers, gewgaws for fools, dogtricks for dizzards, hawkshoods, and suchlike trumpery.11
Novelties of any nature were attractive, but those from foreign lands were almost irresistible. “But tis our English manner to affect Strange things,” a character in Robert Yarington’s 1594 drama Two Lamentable Tragedies observed, “and price them at a greater rate, Then home-bred things of better consequence.”12 Novelties fascinated the English people whose ‘natural vice’ was to prefer foreign commodities before their own.13 Similarly, in 1617 Joseph Hall, later bishop of Exeter and Norwich, took his countrymen to task for their readiness to prefer foreign goods and ideas before their own: “It is an humerous giddinesse to measure the goodnesse of any thing by the distance of miles, and where there is equalitie of worth, to neglect the neerest. I slander our Nation if it be not sicke of this disease.”14 As economic, intellectual and cultural contacts between England and Europe grew during the sixteenth century, many observers derided the English for adopting indiscriminately foreign novelties. Their concern was not simply xenophobic. Many commentators worried that the English people’s preference for foreign goods would adversely affect the nation’s political, religious, social and cultural integrities. A fascination for foreign novelties to the detriment of English products would also impact negatively on England’s trade imbalance; yet, surprisingly, rarely did writers remark on the destructive potential the Englishman’s love of novelty might hold for England’s economic health. A trade imbalance appeared the least of their worries amid growing concern that new-fangles might well cause English society to completely self-destruct.

The English were not alone in reviling their vice of new-fangleness. During the sixteenth century many foreigners, from Popes to German tourists, commented on the English people’s peculiarly inconstant nature. A French ecclesiastic, Stephen Perlin, in 1588 remarked on the English people’s flawed character,15 while Pope Julius III apparently believed the English Reformation was due partly to the fact that the English were given to novelties.16 “The English,” remarked Emanuel van Meteren in the late sixteenth century, “are a clever, handsome and well-made people, but, like all islanders, of a weak and tender nature.”17 Handsome and well-made they might be, but, Meteren continued, the English were also inconstant, rash, deceiving, suspicious and very desirous of novelties, particularly noticeable in their constant changing of fashion.18 To their shame, many Englishmen were well aware that their reputation for inconstancy and new-fangleness had spread across the Channel. In The Court of Virtue (1565) John Hall complained that while other nations remained steadfast to their heritages, the English, addicted to new fangles, were the laughing stock of Europe:

But we here in England lyke fooles and apes,
Do by our vayne fangles deserue mocks and iapes,
For all kynde of countreys dooe vs deryde,
In no constant custome sythe we abyde.19
A few years later Phillip Stubbes, in remarking that no race in the world exceeded the English in their love of new fangles, observed that the English people’s “new fangles and toies, are occasions, why all nations mocke, and flonte vs.”20 Harrison likewise believed that because of the English people’s desire for novelties they reaped “just mockage and reproach in other countries.”21 By the mid-sixteenth century (or well before, if Higden’s comment regarding Pope Eugenius is to be believed) discussion of the English flawed character was not confined to England. It was not only the English who sought to explain the changes about them by characterizing the English race as inconstant and given to novelies. Foreigners, of many nationalities and degrees, were equally willing to cite the English love of new-fangles as reason enough for whatever political and religious turmoil the English nation experienced.22

As the reputation for English inconstancy and love of novelty grew, many writers, medieval and early modern, tried to explain the origins of this peculiar flaw. Some medieval writers believed that island peoples were more subject to the influence of heavenly bodies, particularly the moon, than landlocked peoples. As the waters that surrounded islands ebbed and flowed under the influence of the moon, so too would an island people’s minds vacillate back and forth. Tastes, ideas, behaviours and loyalties would first teeter one way then totter the other as the shifting waters lapped the shores of their island. This was a theory that not only medieval, but early modern commentators, found hard to resist. During the mid-twelfth century Peter of Blois applied it to the people of Sicily in a letter he wrote to Richard, Bishop of Syracuse: “as it is written that all island peoples are generally faithless, the inhabitants of Sicily are indeed deceitful friends, and secret and abandoned betrayers.”23 Some years later Peter of Celle applied specifically to the English the theory that island peoples found it difficult to remain constant to any one idea in a letter to Nicholas of St Albans:

Your island is surrounded by water, and not unnaturally its inhabitants are affected by the nature of the element in which they live. Unsubstantial fantasies slide easily into their minds. They think their dreams to be visions, and their visions to be divine. We cannot blame them, for such is the nature of their land.24
The idea that the moon, through the action of the tides, affected the minds and actions of the English remained current throughout most of the medieval period and well into the seventeenth century. In the late fourteenth century John Gower wrote in Confessio Amantis that the influence of the moon on the English people literally made them so restless that they were predisposed to wander many lands.25 A century later William Caxton mused that perhaps the effects of constant ‘wavering and weaving’ of the moon not only caused the English language to alter constantly from generation to generation, but was also responsible for the various dialects of English spoken in different shires.26 During the early modern period concern for the effects for the English people’s flawed character generally outweighed any intellectual curiosity about its origins, but two or three commentators occasionally attempted to explain why the English were so inconstant. William Camden relied on medieval theories to speculate that the English were so inconstant because they were all “Lunares or … Moones men.”27 Joseph Hall, observing that the English nature seemed naturally to absorb infection, remarked somewhat ambiguously that “Ilanders haue been euer in an ill name.”28 In the mid-seventeenth century James Howell, somewhat tongue in cheek, put into Lord Daniel von Wensin’s mouth the words, “’tis well known, as the sea tumbleth perpetually about [Great Britain], so their braines do fluctuat in their noddles, which makes [the British] so variable and unsteady.”29 Even as late as the 1670s men were not only remarking upon the English people’s love of novelties, but the reasons for it. In 1676 Sir Thomas Baines informed Sir Heneage Finch that “The mutability of air in an island contributed to mutability of thought”; thus the English were “a changing fluctuating people by nature, increased by diet, with the addition of rashness to it.”30 For those men who believed that, as an island race, the English were doomed to inconstancy, the implications must have been worrying: as the waxing and waning of the moon and of the tides about England could not be halted, neither would the English people’s predisposition for novelties be assauged. Under these circumstances, neither political, social, religious or cultural stability could be assured.

Although some Englishmen tried to determine exactly why their countrymen were so inconstant, most commentators generally remarked on the effects of this inconstancy rather than its origins. A love of novelty among the English people might well predispose England to political, religious, social and cultural instability. One of the more disturbing effects of the Englishman’s flawed character was that it increased his likelihood to rebel against his monarch and current political regime. The Tudor authorities were almost paranoid about ‘agreement of minds’, considering novelties in any form, but especially in ideas that promoted ‘diversities’ of minds, to be closely associated with treason and social instability.31 Nothing illustrates this paranoia more than Sir Nicholas Bacon’s address to the Star Chamber in November 1567. Translations of foreign works, Bacon warned, created diversities of mindes, and “diversytes of myndes makethe seditions, seditions bringethe in tumultes, tumulte makethe insurrections & rebellyon, insurrections makethe depopulacions & bringeth in vtter ruyne & destruction of mens bodies goods & Lands.”32 Novelties, therefore, could precipitate the utter destruction of the realm. Naturally, any suggestion that the English character had a peculiar predisposition to the lure of novelties (especially novelties in ideas about political leadership) particularly disturbed the authorities.

Many commentators closely associated the Englishman’s flawed character with civil dissension and seditious activities. While both the chronicler William of Malmesbury and Ranulph Higden believed that if the English were almost invincible abroad then they were easily defeated within their own country, Higden clearly identified this problem with the English characteristic of inconstancy.33 Sir Thomas Malory, took the worrying connection between the Englishman’s flawed character and a tendency for sedition even further in Morte Darthur. When Englishmen supported the rebellious Sir Mordred against their noble King Arthur Malory commented, “Alas! thys ys a greate defaughte of us Englysshemen, for there may no thynge us please no terme.” Thus, “the moste party of all Inglonde hylde wyth sir Mordred, for the people were so new-fangill.”34 In case his readers might suppose indulgently that the English had outgrown their unfortunate fascination with new-fangleness and consequent disloyalty to their king, Malory remarked somewhat darkly that many men still believed that “we of thys londe have nat yet loste that custom.”35 Significantly, considering the political unrest of Tudor England, Andrew Boorde’s very popular image of the inconstant Englishman did not stop at connecting his inconstancy with an irritating tendency to constantly vary the manner of his dress. As Higden had implied centuries earlier, Boorde now asserted that much of the civil disturbance among the English was because of their flawed nature. The Englishman, unable to ‘sit still’, meddled in political and religious matters not his concern. Driven by the ideas “rolling in [his] pate,” the inconstant Englishman not only disrupted his family and friends, but destablized society.

I had no peere, yf to my selfe I were trew;
Bycause I am not so, dyuers times I do rew.36
No matter how strong the fortifications built by the king to repel foreign invaders, the English remained deeply vulnerable to internal disturbance. Despite being a strong and handsome people who lived in a bountiful land, the English seemed disinclined to enjoy their good fortune. “Treason & deceyt among [the English] is vsed craftyly, the more pitie,” continued Boorde “for yf they were true wythin themselfs, thei nede not to feare although al nacions were set against them.”37

Perhaps the most unsettling element in the English people’s inconstancy was that they did not have to be particularly dissastisfied with a monarch to plot treason against him or her. The Tudors certainly had good cause to regard their subject’s allegiance with some wariness. Not only did various factions within the nobility plot against their monarch but the ordinary people of England also tended, as Edward Hall remarked in his mid-sixteenth-century chronicle of the kings of England, to “wauer with the wynde.”38 Even foreign visitors remarked upon the English people’s tendency towards sedition. In 1558 the French ecclesiastic Stephen Perlin observed that “England is a good land with bad people …. [they] are proud and seditious, with bad consciences, and are faithless to their word … although they have a good land and a good country, they are all constantly wicked and moved by every wind; for now they will love a prince; turn your hand, they will wish him killed and crucified.”39 A year later the Venetian ambassador to England, Michael Sociano, summarized the Englishman’s character in a report to the Doge:

The English are universally partial to novelty, hostile to foreigners, and not very friendly amongst themselves; they attempt to do everything that comes into their heads, just as if all that the imagination suggests could be easily executed; hence a greater number of insurrections have broken out in this country than in all the rest of the world.40
After listing the ‘incredible’ number of English people who had met violent deaths over the past twenty years, Sociano remarked that the English were virtually an unmanageable race and counselled that no foreigner could hope to “rule this kind of people.”41 It might perhaps be expected that French and Italian observers would make somewhat unfavourable remarks regarding the English, but even German tourists made similar observations. Frederick, Duke of Wirtemberg, while travelling through England in the late sixteenth century, observed that many internal fortifications had been razed so that “the subjects, who are naturally inclined to sedition, should in no case find an opportunity to rebel and rise up against the government.”42

Faced with serious rebellion during the late 1560s and continued instability throughout the early 1570s, Elizabeth I and Sir William Cecil were unable to resist blaming their subjects’ rebellious tendencies on their love of novelties.43 In a draft of a declaration to her subjects regarding the suppression of the 1569 rebellion, Elizabeth stated that she believed wicked whispers enticed the “vulgar and common sort of people to fansy some noveltyes and changes of Lawes and rulers” and to support the rebellious Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland.44 From the mid-to late sixteenth century observers, ranging from foreign visitors to the English monarch herself, repeatedly remarked that the English people’s love of novelties led them into seditious conspiracies and rebellions. Amid the Tudor paranoia about agreement of minds, the authorities had no trouble believing that the English people’s love of novelty would lead them into such ‘seditions, tumults and insurrections’ that the complete destruction of England’s political and social orders was a frightening possibility.

If the civil authorities worried about the political allegiance of the English people, then the ecclesiastical authorities worried no less that a love of novelties might entice the English away from their allegiance to the English Church or, more likely, away from God altogether. While English Protestant authorities took some decades before they began seriously to suspect that novelties might lure the English away from their religious loyalties, foreign Catholic authorities had leaped to that conclusion during the 1550s. In 1553 Cardinal Morone wrote that Pope Julius III believed that the English were by nature fierce and unruly and given to novelties in matters of religion.45 Sociano not only blamed the English people’s love of novelties for internal insurrections, he also blamed their love of novelties for their change of faith, and suggested that such a change would ultimately result in a revolution in the entire social, legal, cultural and political structures of England.46

Later English commentators tended to believe that a love of novelty, which most argued would lead to pride and subsequently moral depravity, would more likely result in irreligion rather than a return to Catholicism. John Hall, who had pointed out in 1565 that other nations mocked England for its inhabitants’ love of “vayne fangles”, argued that such a fault invariably led to moral decay, from where pride initially made people forget obedience to God’s law and then inevitably made them strive to “blot and put out” His image as best they could.47 In 1582 Stubbes believed that the English studied more in one day for the invention of new toys than they did in their entire lives for the knowledge of God’s word,48 their novel inventions and new-fangled fashions making the English “resemble sauadge Beastes and stearne Monsters, then continent, sober and chaste Christians.”49 Ten years later Thomas Lodge argued that impiety would follow close behind the devil of Novel-monger as fashion and vanity replaced God and conscience.50 In 1617 Joseph Hall complained bitterly that the Englishman’s love of novelties had drawn atheism into the country: “Where that close Atheisme, which secretly laughes God in the face, and thinkes it weaknesse to beleeue?”51 In an age of religious instability, particularly a perceived trend towards unbelief, Catholic and Protestant alike feared the impact new and diverse ideas might have on a people traditionally vulnerable to novelties. Catholic commentators found it easy to blame the English Reformation on the English people’s inconstant natures, while Protestant commentators feared such natures would lead the English people into such moral turpitude they would turn their faces from God completely. Church authorities rested no easier than civil authorities when it came to contemplation of the English people’s inconstancy and the changes such inconstancy might engender.

If many early modern commentators believed that novelties would undermine the political and religious orders, then it is hardly surprising to find them warning that the English people’s love of novelty would undermine the social order as well. Perhaps because of Boorde’s highly popular image of the indecisive Englishman torn between novelties in fashions, but also because of the wider contemporary debate about inappropriate dressing, many commentators focused on the Englishman’s eclectic fashion sense to discuss how the English love of novelties would disrupt, if not destroy, England’s social integrity.52 New fashions were a symptom of the breakdown of the social order as well as the moral order. Both medieval and early modern authorities considered that a clearly defined social order was vitally important. From 1337 until controls were abandoned in 1604 sumptuary laws attempted to enforce standards of dress on the various social orders of English society.53 In another manifestation of the Tudor paranoia about ‘agreement of minds’ and conformity in action, both state and Church expected people to act and dress according to their rank and discouraged them from overstepping clearly defined boundaries in social behaviour. Once people violated these boundaries, the authorities feared they could just as easily disregard the laws of God and state, inevitably plunging society into chaos. Yet social mobility and social ambition were becoming more pronouced as feudal society broke down and a money economy grew. From the fourteenth century English society was characterized not only by a growth in the number of different stations in life, but also by an escalation in the rate of change of fashions by an expanding proportion of society.54 English civil and ecclesiastical authorities, as well as moralists, grew increasingly distressed at the number of people dressing and acting beyond the boundaries of their traditional rank. A tendency toward inconstancy and new-fangleness would thus only encourage the breakdown of traditional society. After all, “discrete nations”, as John Hall had noted, still kept to “Theyr old guyse, what euer fond folkes do inuent.”55 For the early modern authorities discretion was by far the better part of government. Diversity, in whatever guise, could only presage the ‘utter ruin and destruction’ of English society.

Englishmen concerned at people adopting new fashions beyond their degree levelled their complaints at all ranks of society, and neither ploughboy nor courtier escaped criticism. In his late sixteenth-century condemnation of the devil “Superfluous Inuention,” or “Nouel-monger,” Thomas Lodge inveighed against ploughmen who abandoned their russet for fashionable doublets with “wide cuts” and silken garters to wear on Sundays.56 Likewise, in A Quip for an Upstart Courtier Robert Greene derided “euery lowt” who aspired to a higher social position. Now, Greene complained, no farmer was content that his son should hold the plough and servile drudges rustled in their silks; these “dunghill drudges waxe so proud, that they wil presume to wear on their feet, what kings haue worne on their heades.”57 Social critics were not simply concerned with the lower orders of society, many believed the higher orders were also at fault. Gentlemen and courtiers were as guilty of succumbing to new-fangleness and novelty in fashion as their meaner neighbours (who were then further encouraged to adopt new fashions by the behaviour of their social betters). The anonymous author of The Institucion of a Gentleman (1555) believed that English gentleman and yeomen had abandoned their old manners “which wer approued & knowen to be good.” Ignorance had made them accept “straunge inuentions”; consequently the estates of the yeomen and gentlemen had decayed from their former heights.58 Courtiers and ‘gallants’ often received particular criticism, but not simply for the variety of their affected mannerisms and fashions that they copied from foreign countries. The courtier’s fascination with expensive foreign fashion might impact negatively on the economic health of the lower orders of society. In his Quip Greene attacked Italianated courtiers who, adopting ever finer fashions, lost themselves in pride and forgot their duty to the poorer members of society. Greene’s Italianated courtier, Velvetbreeches, had been brought into England by his “companion Nufanglenesse.”59 Velvetbreeches had caused vast misery within English society, raising rents in an effort to finance his expensive lifestyle. Costly velvets, vainglory and pride reigned at the expense of dignity, charity and the honest country life. No longer was ‘public commodity’ foremost in the ‘upstart’ gentleman’s mind, but only private gain.60 In this new England pride had replaced charity, and virtue and social harmony was destroyed.61 Greene’s message was clear: through their love of foreign new-fangles and fashions, English Italianated courtiers had adopted novelties that were destroying traditional English society.

Although Greene’s work was probably the more popular,62 William Rankins’ The English Ape, The Italian imitation, the Footesteppes of Fraunce (1588) remains one of the best examples of a treatise that predicted the complete destruction of English society should the English love for novelty go unchecked. Among Rankins’ primary concerns was the increasingly fractured social structure of England. He complained bitterly about men who dressed and acted well above their station in life:

Haue we not such amongst vs whose attire rather shew them to be Monarchs then meane men, Kings then subiects, whose minds are neither suppressed with the loyalty of their duety, nor with the modest regarde of their meane estate. 63
Once such ‘meane men’ began to flaunt the boundaries of social distinction, ambition and pride would soon follow, and ambition and pride would prove the death of the kingdom: “Oh ambition the nource of mischeefe, the fosterer of vyle dissention: The ruine of cities, the ouerthrow of common wealthes, the disturber of all estates, and the finall confusion of al peaceable gouernements.”64 Pride, itself as destructive as ambition, and borrowed “from euery base inferiour climate,” transformed those Englishmen it corrupted into savage beasts.65 Whether ploughboy or courtier, an addiction to novelty was the first step towards a loosening of moral values and eventual social disorder as people forgot their duty to, and their place within, the commonwealth of England.

Although many Englishmen feared that novelties in fashion and social behaviour might upset the social stability of England, others appeared just as distressed, if not more so, by the damage done to England’s cultural integrity through the wanton adoption of foreign fashions and other novelties by their faithless countrymen. Their sense of cultural and national pride was as affronted as their concern about the blurring of social distinctions through inappropriate dressing. A growing number of early modern Englishmen, anxious that European cultures threatened their traditional English heritage, expressed deep resentment at the affectation of French and Italian culture and manners by members of fashionable society. At the heart of many of their complaints was the belief that the English people, addicted to novelty (and foreign novelties at that), would corrupt and destroy traditional English culture.

Fears that foreign culture was undermining traditional English culture had been growing since the early sixteenth century.66 Many Englishmen, along with the character of Vincent in Cyuile and vncyuvile life (1579), were “sorye to see Englishmen, so apte to leaue their auncient good fashions, and fall into forrayne manners.”67 As the sixteenth century drew to a close the sense that foreign cultures theatened English culture had become almost overwhelming.68 Inevitably, many authors connected the decline in their English cultural integrity with the Englishman’s flawed nature — his love of novelties, particularly foreign novelties. As with the early modern connection between sedition and the Englishman’s flawed character, the undermining of England’s cultural identity and its link to the Englishman’s love of novelties had deep roots in the medieval past. In the early twelfth century the scribe of the Laud Manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle critised the mid-tenth-century Anglo-Saxon Edgar for his fondness for foreign customs that eventually led to harmful elements entering England.69 William of Malmesbury, writing about 1135, also spoke of the corruption of English culture during Edgar’s reign.70 Malmesbury commented that Edgar was so famous that many foreigners came to his court; yet their presence was highly prejudicial to England’s cultural and social integrity:

from the Saxons [the English] learned an untameable ferocity of mind; from the Flemings an unmanly delicacy of body; and from the Danes drunkenness; though they were before free from such propensities, and disposed to observe their own customs with native simplicity rather than admire those of others. For this history justly and deservedly blames [Edgar].71
By the early seventeenth century it appeared that no aspect of English life was safe from corruption by foreign novelties. George Wither connected the Englishman’s flawed character with the corruption of traditional English life in his Abuses Stript and Whipt (1613). Englishmen did not value anything unless it was a foreign import, whether clothes, food, medicines, or other “new deuised forraine trash.” It was an idle humour, declared Wither, which made Englishmen prefer foreign wares before their own goods which were not only of a better quality, but “moore neere at hand.”72 English food and drink was no longer good enough for a nation addicted to foreign novelties: “Wee, that once did feed / on homely rootes and hearbes, do now exceed / The Persian Kings for dainties.”73 Foreign wines now filled cellars where once the English had been satisfied with their cider and ale.74 The English even abandoned traditional English sword-play for continental styles. In 1599 George Silver defended the honourable English tradition of fencing and attacked gallants who forsook their traditional short swords and staves to lust like men sick of a “strange ague” after the “long Rapiers [and] frog pricking Poiniards” of Italian and French fencers.75 Many feared the English people’s indiscriminate borrowing from other nations would finally result in the English becoming a corrupted people who had virtually no individual cultural identity. John Deacon’s list of the final result of the English people’s indiscriminate borrowing from other cultures, published in 1616, is a typical example of what some early modern Englishmen feared might happen to the English nation:

our carelesse entercourse of trafficking with the contagious corruptions, and customes of forreine nations [has led to the fact] that so many of our English-mens minds are thus terriblie Turkished with Mahometan trumperies … thus spitefully Spanished with superfluous pride; thus fearefully Frenchized with filthy prostitutions; thus fantastically Flanderized with flaring net-works to catch English fooles; thus huffingly Hollandized with ruffian-like loome-workes, and other like Ladified fooleries; thus greedily Germandized with a most gluttenous manner of gormandizing; thus desperately Danished with a swine-like swilling and quaffing; thus sculkingly Scotized with Machiauillan proiects; thus inconstantly Englished with euery new fantasticall foolerie.76
Could an English identity survive if the English indiscriminately copied every foreign fashion, manner and vice that they could lay their hands on? John Lyly apparently thought not, remarking with some sadness in the prologue to Midas; “Trafficke and trauell hath wouen the nature of all Nations into ours, and made this land like Arras, full of deuise, which was Broade-cloth, full of workemanshippe.” 77

Obviously many patriotic Englishmen believed that their inconstant compatriots’ preference for foreign wares would have a devastating effect on their native heritage. It appeared very likely that many English people would abandon their native culture, believing it uncivilized, for more sophisticated European cultures. Englishmen travelling abroad sometimes came home favoruing the French, Italian and Spanish languages, so alienated from their native tongue that they declared it a barren and barbarous language.78 As in language, so also in ideas and education. Even those who stayed at home sometimes thought the worst of their own nation in learning, experience, common reason, or wit, “preferring always a stranger rather for the name than the wisdom.”79 In 1592 Sir John Stradling explained that it was a particular fault of the English that, “as we admire and entertaine strange artificers before our owne, so wee wonder at, and more willingly intreate of learning with the learned forrainer, then with our own natiue countrey man.”80 Forty years later the playwright John Ford connected the Englishman’s traditional inconstancy with a disturbing uncertainty about the value of his own culture. Englishmen thought their own products and customs were ‘nothing’ when compared to those of foreign lands. Rather than “fantastic,” Ford portrayed the English as an uncertain people who disparaged their own “fair abundance, manhood [and] beauty.”81 In the 1570s Gabriel Harvey attacked Englishmen who had transformed themselves into French Monsieurs and Italianate Seigniors:

… nothinge is reputid so contemptible, and so baselye and vilelye accountid of as whatsoever is taken for Inglishe, whether it be handsum fasshions in apparrell, or seemely and honorable in behaviour, or choise wordes and phrases in speache or anye notable thinge else in effecte that savorith of our owne cuntrye, and is not ether merely or mixtely outlandishe.82
Like so many others, Harvey feared that the Englishman’s preference for foreign novelties would have a devastating effect on England’s traditional culture. The English people’s love of novelties would allow them no confidence in their own heritage, and many commentators feared the impending destruction of the English people’s sense of cultural identity and even of their sense of national self-respect. No indigenous culture could survive its people’s addiction to foreign new-fangles.

Much of this concern about the Englishman’s fascination for foreign goods, for novelties, occurred because of the increased contact with European ideas, cultures and goods from the sixteenth century on. Today we might view the English community’s delight with European goods, customs and ideas less as an inherent flaw in their character, than a natural delight in an increased access to foreign markets. We live in an age where novelty and new fashion — in whatever sphere — is commonplace and generally accepted. Yet what we might regard as a natural reaction to increased choice, early modern peoples often regarded with horror as a socially destructive phenomenon. Even as late as 1673 a popular adage accounted those men who adopted novelties as the principal danger to the commonwealth.83

Attitudes toward change in early modern England were ambivalent; while many English men and women eagerly embraced changes, or novelties, many oth ers deplored their compatriots’ actions. For the English people of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, with no experience other than that of a society and culture used only to slow change and adaptation, and existing in a traditionally isolated community, the growing influence of new and strange customs and ideas in their homeland was inherently threatening, while their countrymen’s seeming addiction to novelties simply deepened the threat. In reaction, some commentators turned to the convenient medieval explanation of the Englishman’s naturally unsteady character. For many Englishmen, the sole explanation they could find for a rapidly changing society was that the English character was so unsteady, or faithless, that the English were preoccupied with novelties in goods, ideas and culture: a situation that they believed had only a disastrous potential for the continuing stability of England’s political, religious, social and cultural orders.

Notes:
1 One of the most recent discussions of medieval national characteristics is by Paul Meyvaert, “‘Rainaldus est maul scriptor Francigenus’ — Voicing National Antipathy in the Middle Ages”, Speculum 66 (October, 1991): 743-763. For one of the wittiest early modern examples of descriptions of the various European nationalities see Andrew Boorde, Introduction of Knowledge (written 1542), ed. Frederick J. Furnivall (London, 1870).

2 Boorde, pp. 156-157. In all my citations from medieval and early modern sources I have expanded abbreviations but have otherwise left the original punctuation and spelling intact.

3 William Camden quoted Higden in 1605 when referring to the Englishman’s flawed character; Camden, Remains Concerning Britain (1605), ed. R. D. Dunn (Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1984), p. 19. See pp. xii-xiii for Dunn’s comments on the popularity of Higden’s Polychronicon. In 1642 James Howell alluded to certain ill-favoured prophecies of England regarding the Englishman’s inconstancy in apparel that Higden recited; Instructions for Forreine Travell (1642 and 1650), ed. Edward Arber (London, 1869), p. 68; Ranulph Higden, Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden Monachi Cestrensis, ed. Churchill Babington (London, 1869), II, the text of the anonymous fifteenth-century translator, p. 173. All further citations from Higden are those of the fifteenth-century translator.

4 Higden, II, pp. 169 and 171. In volume I, p. 357, Higden also claimed that the Irish were an inconstant and variable people.

5 Ibid., p. 169.

6 Ibid., p. 169.

7 Boorde, p. 116.

8 John Lyly, Euphues and his England (1580), eds. Morris W. Croll and Harry Clemons (New York: Russell & Russell, 1964), p. 421; William Harrison, The Description of England (1587), ed. Georges Edelen (New York: Folger Shakespeare Library, 1968), p. 145; Camden, pp. 20-21; Thomas Dekker, The Seuen deadly Sinnes of London (1606), ed. Alexander B. Grosart, The Non-Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker (London, 1885), II, the essay on “Apishness”, p. 59; and [Robert Codrington], A Discourse upon some Innovations of Habits and Dressings, appended to Francis Hawkins, Youths Behaviour, or Decency in Conversation Amongst Men (London, eighth edition 1663), p. 54 are only a few of the authors who mentioned Boorde’s characterization of the uncertain Englishman.

9 Comment by Robert Copland in the mid-sixteenth century, cited in Edwin Haviland Miller, The Professional Writer in Elizabethan England (Cambridge, Mass., 1959), p. 70.

10 Edward Moorcroft to William Cecil, 1 January 1567, Calendar State Papers Foreign (1566-1568), item 879, p. 161. Following established concepts, Moorcroft also connected the French with pride, the Spanish and Italians with whoring, the Sicilians and Irish with thieving, and the Flemings and Germans with heavy drinking.

11 Harrison, p. 359.

12 Robert Yarington, Two Lamentable Tragedies (produced 1594), in A Collection of Old English Plays, ed. A. H. Bullen (New York, 1882-1889), IV, p. 12.

13 Ibid., p. 357.

14 Joseph Hall, Quo vadis? A Ivst Censvre of Travell as it is commonly vndertaken by the Gentlemen of our Nation (London, 1617), p. 40. Hall included a long list of the evil fruits of his countrymen’s tendency to borrrow from other nations, pp. 75-80.

15 Stephen Perlin, Description of the Kingdoms of England and Scotland, in R. B. Morgan, ed., Readings in English Social History (Cambridge: C.U.P., 1923), pp. 254-255.

16 Cardinal Morone to Cardinal Pole for Julius III, 21 December 1553, cited in G. B. Parks, “The First Italianate Englishman,” Studies in the Renaissance 8 (1961): 214 and note.

17 Cited in William Brenchley Rye, ed., England as Seen by Foreigners (New York: Benjamin Blom, 1967), p. 69.

18 Ibid., pp. 70-71.

19 John Hall, The Court of Virtue (1565), ed. Russell A. Fraser (New Brunswick: Rutgers Univ. Press, 1961), pp. 351-352.

20 Phillip Stubbes, The Anatomie of Abuses (London, 1583), folios C and Gvii (margin comment). As a Puritan, Stubbes was particularly distressed by his countrymen’s addiction to new-fangles.

21 Harrison, p. 359.

22 For some examples, see discussion below on political and religious changes within English society, pp. 9-11.

23 Peter of Blois to Richard, bishop of Syracuse, mid-twelfth century, in G. B. Parks, The English Traveller to Italy (Rome: Edizioni di Storia E Letteratura, 1954), I, p. 220.

24 Peter of Celle to Nicholas of St Albans, ca. 1178, in R. W. Southern, Medieval Humanism and Other Studies (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1970), p. 146. For a slightly different translation and commentary see Meyvaert, p. 750.

25 John Gower, Confessio Amantis, ed. Reinhold Pauli (London, 1857), III, pp. 109-110.

26 William Caxton, transl. and pub., Eneydos (1490), folio A verso.

27 Camden, p. 198.

28 Joseph Hall, pp. 79-80.

29 James Howell, A German Diet: Or, the Ballance of Europe (London, 1653), pp. 53-54. Howell used the pretence of reporting the speeches of sundry German princes to express his own views both on English and on European affairs.

30 Sir Thomas Baines to Sir Heneage Finch, June 1676, Historical Manuscripts Commission, Finch, II, p. ix.

31 Lacey Baldwin Smith argues in Treason in Tudor England that the Tudor authorities were so paranoid about treason that they considered anything outside the ‘norm’ inherently treasonous because it might shatter the fragile harmony of the realm; (London: Jonathan Cape, 1986), particularly chapter III, “The Agreement of Its Minds”.

32 “The Coppye of the L. Keepers oration in the Starre Chamber vttered before divers of the Counseyle & others the xxviiith daye of Nouember, Ano 1567,” PRO SP 12/45/3.

33 Higden, II, p. 169; William of Malmesbury, Chronicle of the Kings of England, ed. J. A. Giles (London, 1847), p. 291.

34 Sir Thomas Malory, Morte Darthur, in Malory Works ed. Eugène Vinaver (London: O.U.P., London, 1971), pp. 708-709. These remarks are Malory’s own contribution rather than ideas he borrowed from French and English sources; Vinaver, ed., The Works of Sir Thomas Malory (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), III, p. 1647.

35 Ibid.

36 Boorde, p. 117.

37 Ibid., p. 119.

38 Edward Hall, Hall’s Chronicle (New York: AMS Press, 1965 facsimile ed. of 1809 edition), p. 359.

39 Perlin, pp. 254-255. See Boorde, p. 118, for the Italian proverb that “the land of England is a good land, but the people be yl.”

40 Calendar State Papers and Manuscripts relating to English Affairs: Venice and Northern Italy, VII (1558-1580), p. 328. Report concerning King Philip of Spain, presented by Michiel Sociano (Surian), late Ambassador with his Majesty, to the most Serene Signory.

41 Ibid.

42 Rye, p. 13.

43 Not only may Cecil have remembered Moorcroft’s letter, he and Elizabeth may particularly have had Malory’s words in mind. Roger Ascham (who was certainly in a position to know) remarked in The Scholemaster (written between 1564 and 1567) that he knew a time when God’s Bible was banished at court, and “Morte Arthur received into the prince’s chamber”; Roger Ascham, The Scholemaster (1570), inThe Whole Works of Roger Ascham, ed. J. Giles (London, 1864-1865), III, p. 159.

44 February? 1570, PRO SP 12/66/147 verso, corrections in Sir William Cecil’s hand. Somewhat prophetically for a later monarch, in 1617 Joseph Hall claimed that the English, through their love of novelties, had learned the “bloudy and tragicall science of King-killing; the new diuinitie of disobedience and rebellion”; Hall, p. 79. Hall produced a long list of the evil fruits of his countrymen’s tendency to borrrow from other nations, pp. 75-80.

45 Cardinal Morone to Cardinal Pole for Julius III, 21 December 1553, cited in Parks, “The First Italianate Englishman,” p. 214 and note. Morone’s exact words were, “quei popoli di natura feroci et instabili et assuefatti alle novità”; Parks translated this as “by nature fierce and unruly and given to change”, but an equally correct and more literal translation is “by nature fierce and unruly and given to novelties”.

46 SP Ven., VII, p. 328.

47 John Hall, pp. 352-353.

48 Phillip Stubbes, The Second Part of the Anatomie of Abuses , ed. Arthur Freeman (New York: Garland Press, 1973), folio E8 verso.

49 Stubbes, The Anatomie of Abuses, folio Bvii verso.

50 Thomas Lodge, Wits Miserie and the Worlds Madnesse (London, 1596), p. 14.

51 Joseph Hall, p. 79.

52 In itself, complaints about inappropriate dressing were closely linked with concerns over the stability of the social heirarchy. See N. B. Harte, “State Control of Dress and Social Change in Pre-Industrial England,” in D. C. Coleman and A. H. John, eds., Trade, Government and Economy in Pre-Industrial England (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1976), pp. 132-165, particularly pp. 134-148, and Joseph Strutt, A Complete View of the Dress and Habits of the People of England (reprint of 1842 edition, London: The Tabard Press, 1970), II, p. 117. See also David Cressy, “Describing the Social Order of Elizabethan and Stuart England,” Literature and History, vol. III (1976), pp. 29-44, for some of the ways early modern commentators defined ranks within their society.

53 It was not only concerns regarding the social order of society that drove the English government to enact these sumptuary laws, but also a concern with the balance of payments. Imported cloth and clothing impoverished the English realm while foreign nations profited. Nevertheless, economic motives remained secondary, the Acts of Apparel were primarily intended to impose order on society, “a person’s dress should reflect his station in life”; Harte, pp. 137-139.

54 Harte, pp. 139-140.

55 John Hall, p. 352.

56 [Thomas Lodge], Wits Miserie, and the Worlds Madnesse (London, 1596), pp. 13-14.

57 Robert Greene, A Quip for an Upstart Courtier (1592), in The Life and Complete Works in Prose and Verse of Robert Greene M.A., ed. A. B. Grosart (London, 1881-1886), XI, p. 238. The Quip was an expanded version of the lesser known and anonymous The Debate Between Pride and Lowlines (London, ca. 1570).

58 The Institucion of a gentleman (London, 1555), folio Giii.

59 Greene, p. 294.

60 Ibid., p. 260.

61 Ibid., pp. 234-235.

62 A Quip went through many editions in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.

63 [William Rankins], The English Ape, The Italian imitation, the Footesteppes of Fraunce (London, 1588), p. 7.

64 Ibid., pp. 9-10. See also p. 13.

65 Ibid., p. 19.

66 In an epigram written about 1513 Thomas More derided Frenchified Englishmen who scorned their native heritage in preference for French clothes and manners; Thomas More, Latin Epigrams (written about 1513), in The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, eds. C. H. Miller, L. Bradner, C. A. Lynch and R. P. Oliver (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1984), vol. III, Part II, pp. 153-155. An early 1520s ballad, Treatyse of this Galaunt, satirized the Frenchified gallant who imported into England new-fangled fashions, ideas, manners and vices that were rapidly destroying traditional English society; F. J. Furnivall, ed., Ballads from Manuscripts (London, 1868-1872), I, pp. 445- 453. Another contemporary poem, Now-A-Dayes, also blamed the importation of French wares as well as the vice of ‘new fangle’ for the moral decay of English society, ibid., p. 99. These are only a few examples of early sixteenth-century concern.

67 Cyuile and uncyuile life (London, 1579), folio B verso.

68 For a discussion of anti-foreign sentiment in Elizabethan England see Richard Lindabury, Patriotism in the Elizabethan Drama (Princeton: Princeton U. P., 1931), especially chapter VI, “Foreign Manners and Morals” and Chapter VII, “The Alien Invasion”; and Zera Silver Fink, “Anti-Foreign Sentiment in Tudor and Early Stuart Literature,” unpublished Ph. D. dissertation, Northwestern University, 1931. For expressions of cultural anxiety and some attempts to clearly define an English cultural identity during the early modern period, see Richard Helgerson, Forms of Nationhood (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1992); J. D. Alsop, “William Fleetwood and Elizabethan Historical Scholarship”, Sixteenth Century Journal 25 (1994): 155-176 is briefly useful. See my Images of Educational Travellers in Early Modern England (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), Chapter VII, for a more detailed discussion of the early modern belief that the English people’s love of novelties corrupted England’s traditional culture and heritage.

69 G.N. Garmonsway, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (London: Everyman, 1953, reprint 1990), p. 115.

70 Malmesbury had undoubtedly read the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and probably took some of his material from that source.

71 Malmesbury, p. 148.

72 George Wither, Abvses Stript, and Whipt (London, 1613), Book II, “Satyre I,” p. 155. See pp. 150-157 for a full discusion of imitative English men and women.

73 Ibid., p. 152.

74 Ibid.

75 George Silver, Paradoxes of Defence (London, 1599), folio A4-A4 verso.

76 John Deacon, Tobacco Tortvred … (London, 1616), p. 10.

77 John Lyly, Midas, in The Complete Works of John Lyly, ed. R. Warwick Bond (Oxford; Clarendon Press, 1902), III, p. 114. First produced 1589.

78 George Pettie, trans., The Civile Conversation of M. Steeven Guazzo (1581), ed. Sir Edward Sullivan (London: Constable & Co. 1925), I, translator’s preface to the reader, pp. 9-10. See also Thomas Wilson’s comments in his Arte of Rhetorique (1560), ed. G. H. Mair (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909), p. 162. I have not the space here to discuss the extensive debate about the merits (or not) of the English language in early modern England; see Albert C. Baugh and Thomas Cable, A History of the English Language (London: Routledge, third edition 1990), esp. chapter 8, “The Renaissance, 1500-1650”; for a recent discussion of some aspects of this debate see Helgerson, Chapter I.

79 Lyly, Euphues and his England, pp. 423-424.

80 Sir John Stradling, A Direction for Trauailers (London, 1592) folio B3.

81 John Ford, Love’s Sacrifice (produced 1632), Act I, scene i, in John Ford, ed. Havelock Ellis (London, 1888), p. 290.

82 Gabriel Harvey, The Letter-book of Gabriel Harvey, ed. E. J. Long Scott (London, 1883-1884), p. 66.

83 [Richard Head], The Canting Academy (London, 1673), p. 157.


©1996 Sara Warneke / Sara Douglass Enterprises

A Coastal Hedge of Laws: Passport Control in Early Modern England

A coastal ‘hedge of laws’ : passport control in early modern England

Written by Sara Warneke. Published as part of the Studies in Western Traditions; Occasional papers in the humanities series, Bendigo (Australia) School of Arts, LaTrobe University in 1996.

If you’re interested in reading this work, it can be borrowed from the National Libraries of Australia.

Lawyers, Physicians and Travellers: Popular Perceptions and Professional Comment in Early Modern England

This was a conference paper given in 1991 by Sara Warneke.


Three of the most common caricatures of the popular press and stage in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods were the avaricious and corrupt lawyer, the equally avaricious but somewhat more ignorant physician, and that extremely foolish bearer of fantastic tales, the traveller. Popular parody of these three figures influenced later seventeenth-century characterizations in the popular character books, but did they in any way shape or affect seventeenth-century professional comment by either of these three groups or the advice or conduct literature written for all three? The idea for this research sprang from the knowledge that in one instance, educational travellers, there existed a close relationship between popular parody of the period 1580-1630 and subsequent seventeenth-century debate over, and conduct literature for, the practice of educational travel. I wondered if this relationship existed for other groups, and if not, why not. I decided to examine two other groups, lawyers and physicians, because not only were both popular subjects for parody in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, a time when the popular press and stage enjoyed significant growth, they both indulged in extensive comment about their respective practices and were both offered extensive advice about how to conduct their professional lives during the remainder of the seventeenth century.

First to the lawyer. Popular representations of the lawyer were generally unfavourable. The drama, satire, characterizations, ditties and jests of the Elizabethan, Jacobean and Caroline periods often portrayed the lawyer as a covetous, ambitious and corrupt man who clouded his profession with obscure language, accepted fees from antagonists, delayed law suits for his own gain and ignored the just cause of the poor man in favour of the unjust cause of the richer client. The names of lawyers in drama reflect many of these elements – Avarice, Ambidexter, Tangle, Bramble, Knavesby, Picklock and Trampler. One of the most popular perceptions of lawyers was that they thrived upon the contentions and misfortunes of others. In William Bullein’s sixteenth-century Dialogue against the feuer Pestilence (published throughout the 1560s and 70s), the two petty lawyers Ambodexter and Avarus shuddered at the thought of their lost revenue if they moved their practice to the new territory of the Americas where there existed no strife or debate. A clergyman in Robert Greene’s late sixteenth-century drama James the Fourth attacked a lawyer for embracing a profession that thrived only on the contentions and strife of others, while one early seventeenth-century pamphleteer remarked that, “Strife is the summe of [the lawyer’s] desires, it is the solace of his soule, he is never well at hearts ease, if he be not wrangling with one or other.”

Popular caricature also portrayed the lawyer as a man who made considerable money by favouring the rich man’s cause before the poor man’s. Although the poor man’s cause might be good and just, it seemed that the rich man gained best at law: “[Lawyers] make their plea according to the penny,” wrote Barnaby Rich, “not according to the truth, when (among their clients) he that hath most money, hath commonly, most right.” Bartolus, the covetous lawyer in The Spanish Curate, freely declared, “Hang the poor! Their causes, like their purses, have poor issues.” According to one characterization, the poor client among lawyers “is as a blind sheepe in a thicket of thornes, where he is sure to lose his fleece, if not some of his flesh.” In all processes of the law, the delays, the corruptions, the contentions, “Money [was] the white these conscienceless Lawyers [aimed] at. Their Sunne which is full of motes shines not upon the rich and poor alike.” Many of the numerous jests at the legal profession’s expense which appeared during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries concentrated on the corrupt lawyer’s ability to argue successfully only the case of the rich man. It appeared, concluded one jest, that one word of a fat bribe held more weight than twenty words of the clients’, while at least one drama concluded that it were better honest men settled their differences between them than approach lawyers who would fleece them of their money.

These are only a very few examples of the many negative representations of lawyers, nevertheless, despite this generally unfavourable public image of the lawyer, a few characterizations of honest practitioners did appear. The honest lawyers of Aristo, in Webster’s The Devil’s Law Case (1619), and Benjamin Gripe in The Honest Lawyer (1615), both foiled the schemes of corrupt legal practitioners in their respective dramas. There were also characterizations of honest legal practitioners by Nicholas Breton, John Stephens, Richard Brathwaite and Lord North. However, once one starts to read the popular jest books, books of merry tales and the cheap broadsheets, the lawyer was always evil, very often in league with the devil, inevitably scheming to wrest the lands from honest yeomen and the livelihoods from vulnerable common folk. He was never the hero in the literature most likely to be read or listened to by the common people.

Although we can find occasional characters of honest lawyers, is there any evidence that the generally unfavourable popular representations of lawyers in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods made any impression on the legal profession’s perception of itself? The legal profession would indeed have had to be every bit as brutish and callous as popular imagery had it for individual members not to have felt some sensitivity about their public image. In his Rise of the Barristers Wilfred Prest shows that two members of the legal profession, Sir John Davies and Sir Anthony Benn, did in fact acknowledge and respond to their profession’s poor public image. Davies was the only one to do publicly, including an extensive rebuttal of certain “vulgar imputations cast upon the [common] law and lawyers” in the preface to a volume of Irish law cases he published in 1615, Davies claimed that delays in litigation arose only out of the “malignant and unquiet disposition of many clients”, while, to the charge that lawyers were corrupt, argued that “no men of any other calling or profession whatsoever are more careful to preserve their good name and reputation.” while in a manuscript essay on the legal profession, Sir Anthony Benn also attempted to defend and justify his profession, suggesting that popular resentment, envy and misunderstanding of the legal profession underlay its poor public image. Yet Davies and Benn seem rather isolated examples, for lawyers tended not to resort to a public defence of their profession against popular parody, or even, for that matter, to acknowledge it. Individual sensitivities did not spill over into professional writings – and especially not in lawyers’ essays or monographs of advice to members (or prospective members) of their profession where, if comments or sensitivities about their public image were to occur, one might reasonably expect them. In fact, most seventeenth-century advice for young gentlemen, whether those seeking a career in the law, or those already practising it, was predominantly positive and practical, rarely referring to popular caricature. Far from displaying any undue sensitivity about the lawyer’s public image, one writer, for instance, counselled young gentlemen that the legal profession was one of the best means to gain riches, honour and advancement, equalled only by a career in trade. Some pieces of advice literature referred to the corrupt practices of lawyers, lengthy delays in suits of law, and the obscure language lawyers used in their pleadings, but their comments probably responded to real problems within the legal profession rather than being slavish imitations of popular stereotypes.

Popular parody of the lawyer did manage to affect professional comment in some small ways. Popular literature introduced such terms as pettyfogger for knavish, sharp, ‘rascally’ lawyers of decidedly inferior status, first used by Bullein in his popular Dialogue Against the feuer Pestilence. The term pettyfogger was subsequently adopted and extensively promoted by popular caricature and passed into general and professional usage during the seventeenth century. Some advice to lawyers also appeared to react to popular imagery. Several seventeenth-century characterizations of the honest lawyer are almost prescriptive rather than descriptive, and their content almost certainly responds to contemporary popular perceptions of lawyers. Richard Brathwaite, John Stephens and Dudley, Lord North, all wrote characters of the honest lawyer that read more like advice literature than simple descriptions, or commendations, of honest lawyers. Brathwaite, for example: “He take no fees, till he conceive the cause, Nor with an Oyly bribe annoints his jaws”, and, “His face is never shut to poor mens monies.” Lord North concluded his character of the honest lawyer with the advice, “Never to make a jest of his profession (as some of them do) affirming their practice a pretty trick to get money, a contention of wits and purses, a politic pastime to entertain busy brains, or a duel where the greatest strokes as given underhand; but will so defend right and justice, as he would wish to be defended by them.”

Nevertheless, among the mass of early modern public and professional comment about the legal profession, it is very difficult to demonstrate that popular parody of the lawyer had any significant influence on the content of professional comment or even lay criticism. Criticism and discussion about the legal profession had been present for centuries, long before Elizabethan and Jacobean popular authors popularized the character of the corrupt lawyer. There are too many factors present to clearly delineate a role for the popular press and stage. Apart from adding a certain potency (because of the very proliferation of images of the corrupt lawyer during the late sixteenth century and first half of the seventeenth century) popular literature and entertainments do not appear to have added any new elements (apart from the odd term and colourful phrase) into discussions about the legal profession. Rather than shape subsequent comment by and about the legal profession, popular parody of the lawyer appears simply to have reflected long-standing criticisms, concerns and images.

Like lawyers, medical practitioners, especially physicians, were a popular subject for parody in early modern England, although, generally unlike the lawyers’ public image, a creditable percentage of representations of the physician occurred in a positive light, particularly in drama and in popular jests and merry tales. Very often it was the physician who was the ‘hero’ of a popular tale or jest; an honest and worthy man (if a little aloof), who outwitted some country yokel thinking to expose him as a fraud to the local community. There are some links between the public images of lawyers and physicians. Many writers closely associated lawyers and physicians in their characterizations of both professions – after all, if a man’s soul was the territory of the clergy, the physician claimed his body and the lawyer his estate. All three, presumably, profited through misfortunes in their particular spheres of influence. Certainly, both lawyers and physicians popularly profited by others’ losses: as William Scott remarked in 1635, “the Lawyer by contentions between men, the Physitians by others sickneses.” Bullein’s Dialogue Against the feuer Pestilence also featured a physician who, like the two rascally lawyers, expressed dismay at the prospect of practising in the new commonwealth of the Americas: as there was no contention for the lawyers to thrive on, so there was no sickness for the physician to profit by; “God defend us from such a Commonwealth” the physician remarked to the lawyers. In 1642 Humphrey Browne compared physicians with lawyers in this verse:

The Lawyers and Physitians case have neer affinity;
For others ruines make them rich, no doubt most lawfully.
These sucke the sicke for potions, pounds.
For Law those lands purloine:
These promise health, and so get wealth;
Those quietnesse for coine.

Browne followed his verse with this tale: “When men prevaile in strength of body, they consult with the lying Oracle the Lawyer, who makes them wait so long attendance, and so often explicate their wearied joints that hee makes them sicke; then they consult with as bad an Oracle, the Oracle of Appollo … the Physitian, to recover their former health. Ones exit becomes the others entry.” As lawyers engendered processes and delays to get richer, so physicians engendered maladies.

The character of the avaricious physician appeared repeatedly in Elizabethan and Jacobean literature – he was a man who delayed the patient’s recovery in order to eke as much money out of him as was possible. Physicians rated directly behind lawyers in Edward Hake’s “greedy traine” of those who “grasping gape for gaine.” Like lawyers almost inevitably did in popular literature, physicians also often seemed to have scant sympathy for the poor man:

When one is Sick, if Money do appear
She can prevail to have the Doctor there ….
And so long time as he does Money find,
He dayly shall add comfort to your mind.
Until, of course, the money ran out:
He tells the sick Mans friends he can not Live,
He speaks the truth, when they’ve no more to give,
And if the Poor be sick, he’s then in haste,
Or very busie, hath no time to waste.
Nevertheless, the poor did have their uses. In his characterization of the greedy Physician Thomas Brewer remarked, “To learne to cure the rich, they’ll kill the poore.”

One of the most popular caricatures of the physician was that of the quacksalver, or quack – an ignorant man or woman who abused the skill and reputation of more learned and honourable physicians. In popular parody these quacks learned their skills from women and fools and drew their knowledge from old wives tales, inevitably making the healthy sick. Nicholas Breton characterized the unworthy Physician as an ignorant dishonest mountebank and a true quacksalver, a danger for the sick to deal with. In Philip Massinger’s play The Emperor of the East (1631) the character of the empirick, a personification of the ignorant (and therefore ultimately dangerous) quack was thoroughly exposed by the character of an honest doctor who commented, somewhat bitterly, “Such slaves as this, Render our art contemptible.”

Popular authors and playwrights assigned a variety of lesser evils to the character of the physician – a charge of atheism often appeared, as did charges of obscure language, aloofness and inability to deal successfully with disease, but, as The Emperor of the East demonstrates, not all characterizations of the medical practitioner were negative. In some dramas like The Emperor of the East the character of the quack enhanced the reputation of the worthy and learned medical practitioner. In another one of Massinger’s dramas, A Very Woman, the honest physician refused offers of fame and glory, while in a variety of other plays, jests and merry tales, respectable and learned physicians refused bribes (and even honest payment on occasion), recognised their limitations and refused to make false diagnoses for gain.

Similar to the trend already seen in the legal profession, physicians paid very little, if any, lip service to popular caricatures of their profession. Rather, much of their professional writing was concerned with attacking their fellow practitioners – Paracelsian chemists attacked the more orthodox Galenist physicians and vice versa, while just about every member of the profession who considered himself a reputable practitioner attacked the swarms of quacks, empiricks and mountebanks – that host of freelance and (generally) untrained practitioners who serviced the common people who couldn’t afford the fees of trained and licensed physicians. Although popular material provided the fashionable name for these untrained medical practitioners, quacksalvers or quacks, it contributed almost nothing else to comments by or about the medical profession. The debate within the medical profession about the activities of these so-called quacks had been going on virtually since the foundation of the Royal College of Physicians in 1518. In fact, the popular press and stage often had nothing to offer the frequently outrageous invectives of medical practitioners who argued against quakery. contribute to the professional writings of such men as the Elizabethan surgeon William Clowes who, arguing against quackery in 1585, derided the shameless, lewd and brutish practitioners who forsook their honest trades and rushed into medical practice for gain. Some of them, he wrote,

[are] cutlers, some cooks [and] some chandlers … Yea, nowadays, it is too apparant to see how tinkers, toothdrawers, pedlars, ostlers, carters, porters, horse-gelders, and horse-leeches, idiots, apple-squires, broom-men, bawds, witches, conjurers, soothsayers and sow-gelders, rogues, rat-catchers, runagates and proctors of Spittlehouses, with such other like rotten and stinking weeds do in town and country, without order, honesty and skill, daily abuse both Physic and Surgery, having no more … reason or knowledge in this art than has a goose.

Many authors, whether practitioners or laymen, often advised physicians not to charge exorbitant fees and not to refuse to treat the poor, but again, like the debate over quackery, this advice occurred long before the popular press and stage promoted the character of the avaricious physician. Some medical practitioners, however, demonstrated a singular lack of sympathy with the plight of poor English men and women by blaming the multitude of quacks on these people who were too miserly to spend a few extra pennies on a trained and licensed physician.

Like debate over the perceived corruptions and problems within the legal system, debate over corruptions and problems within the medical system of England shaped popular parody of medical practitioners rather than the other way around. Yet the picture is very different in the case of educational travellers. When it comes to the seventeenth-century debate over travel abroad for educational purposes, public comment and professional advice proved remarkably sensitive to to images popularized decades earlier in literature and drama.

Just as travel abroad for education started to become popular during the late sixteenth century, it began to attract a good deal of public comment, most of it extremely critical. Despite the well-publicized benefits and the obvious popularity of educational travel, a wide variety of printed material and popular entertainments presented particularly negative stereotypes or images of the educational traveller to the English public. Unlike their influence on discussions about the legal and medical professions, the Elizabethan and Jacobean popular press and stage proved particularly influential in shaping the direction of the later seventeenth-century debate over educational travel. Two popular stereotypes of the educational traveller, the foolish traveller and the traveller-liar (often combined within the one character), quickly became stock characters of the Elizabethan and Jacobean dramatists, pamphleteers, novelists and balladeers, Although it was the late seventeenth century when Sir Carr Scroop remarked that, as physicians thrived by diseases, dramatists and actors thrived by portraying foolish travellers, many authors and actors had discovered this profitable source of income a century earlier. and both these caricatures markedly influenced seventeenth-century advice for and debate about educational travellers. Within a relatively short time, the attributes of foolishness and lying quickly became established faults of those (mostly blameless) Englishmen who set off to the continent to finish their education.

I’ll deal with the stereotype of the foolish traveller first. It was actually the popularity of the wicked Italianated traveller in Elizabethan drama and satire that ensured the success of the stereotype of the foolish traveller. Although the Italianated traveller was often a very threatening character, satirists, playwrights and pamphleteers quickly imbued him with foolish characteristics, and the foolish traveller quickly became an established figure in its own right. Foolish travellers adopted ridiculous fashions, affected equally ridiculous mannerisms, and couldn’t manage a single sentence of English without corrupting it with lisping and foreign words. George Gascoigne’s foolish traveller came home in 1572 with a toothpick hanging out of a mouth surmounted by a magnificent set of Turkish ‘moustachios’, a ‘nightgown cloak’ trailing underneath his toes and extravagant slippers, silken hose and rapier. A few years later Gabriel Harvey attacked the ridiculous and effeminate affectations of the Italianate who returned from abroad with his head permanently cricked to one side, eyes flashing and face smirking, his forefinger pressed to his pouted lips and his toes placed at impossible angles: “in courtly guises a passing singular odd man”, Harvey wrote. In 1592 Thomas Nashe described the foolish malcontent traveller in Pierce Penilesse as a man who returned from the continent wringing his face about as if he were stirring a mustard pot, and forcing Frenchified English out through clenched teeth whenever he spoke. while in his novel The Vnfortunate Traveller he personified the foolish traveller as a man who returned wearing extraordinarily ridiculous fashions.

a scull crownd hat of the fashion of an olde deepe porringer, a diminutiue Aldermans ruffe with short strings like the droppings of a mans nose, a close-bellied dublet comming downe with a peake behinde as farre as the crupper [and] a wide paire of gascoynes, which vngatherd wold make a couple of womens ryding kirtles.

Literary and dramatic characterizations of the foolish traveller continued to gain popularity into the seventeenth century with such popular characters as Sir Thomas Overbury’s affected traveller, Ben Jonson’s deformed Amorhpus in Cynthia’s Revels, and Barnaby Rich’s fantastic traveller in Faultes, Faults and Nothing Else but Faultes.

Here comes a spruce fellow now [wrote Rich] and if he be not allied to the Fantastic, yet I am sure the fool and he are so neare a kin, that they can not marry without a Licence from the Pope. Would ye know who it is? Marry sir, it is a traveller.

Although a few essayists included brief comments about foolish travellers during the first decade of the seventeenth century, until the 1620s there had been no significant criticism of travellers as fools outside of popular caricature.- although comments from some far-sighted individuals demonstrated a certain sensitivity about the issue. In 1578 Sir Philip Sidney predicted to his brother Robert that “ere it be long … wee travaylers shalbe made sporte of comodies,” while the author of a late-sixteenth letter of advice for travellers cautioned travellers to watch their behaviour on their return lest they become the butt of humourists for jests and table-talk. In 1614 Sir John Holles’ instructions to his son John indicate the influence the strong popular image of the foolish traveller could have on an individual:

Sum empty heads (as our merchants to the Indians carry bells, glasses, knyves, and suche lyke) bring only howme with them crooke shoulders, unstayed countenances, mopps and maws thrusting outte the crupper, and head forward, a shaling pace, affected gestures, curchies, salutations, and odd fashions of apparell speeche [and] diet.

Although a few essayists had included brief comments about foolish travellers during the first decade of the seventeenth century, until the 1620s there had been no significant discussion of travellers as fools outside of literary and dramatic ridicule. However, by the 1620s the popular image of the foolish traveller was so well established that many enthusiasts and apologists for educational travel, as well as travellers themselves, became particularly sensitive about the difficulty travellers had in maintaining their public credibility and reputation. Unlike lawyers and physicians who, publicly at least, appeared to be little concerned with popular parody, travellers became highly embarrassed about their public image. Criticisms from men like Samuel Purchas who made use of popular caricature to observe that some foolish travellers brought home nothing but a “few smattering termes, flattering garbes, Apish crings, foppish fancies, foolish … disguises [and] the vanities of Neighbour Nations” stimulated the apologists for travel to advise travellers not to provide further encouragement for critics and material for popular parody through irresponsible behaviour. One of the first authors of advice literature to incorporate the stereotype of the foolish traveller into his work was Owen Feltham who wrote about 1620. Feltham suggested that inherently foolish gentlemen should not travel at all, thus not only saving their own reputation but that of their families and country’s as well. Travel only mades the foolish gentleman worse, argued Feltham, for he gained nothing but the ‘gay sights, vices, exotic gestures and apery of a country. A travelling fool [was] the shame of all nations’. In his Instructions for Forreine Travell (published in 1642) James Howell used imagery strongly reminiscent of popular caricature to criticise Englishmen who, by ‘their gate and strouting, their bending in the hammes and shoulders and looking upon their legs, with frisking and singing so speake themselves Travellers.” Others by a fantastic kind of ribanding themselves, by their modes of habit and cloathing [their collection of complements and cringes and monstrous periwigs] do make themselves known to have breathed foreign air.’ ‘Such, I say, are a shame to their Countrey abroad, and their kindred at home, and to their parents.’ Other seventeenth-century authors of advice literature for travellers like Thomas Neale & Stephen Penton also incorporated advice for young men not to come home ’empty, unskilful gulls’. Other authors of conduct literature continued to echoe these concerns throughout the rest of the seventeenth century. Other authors of advice literature continued to echo these concerns and images during the remainder of the seventeenth century. Penton appealed to the traveller’s sense of dignity, reminding him that if he came home simpering and cringing

“as stiffly as the two Beaux do on the Sign of the Salutation, and you practise that here, you will be as much Laugh’d at in England, when you come back, as you were in France when first you went over to learn it.”

Although the influence of popular caricature of the foolish traveller is clearly evident on seventeenth-century comment on educational travel, the process is even more apparent with popular parody of the traveller-liar. The association of lying with pilgrims dates from medieval England; Chaucer, Langland and many of the Lollards, for instance, associated the vice of lying with pilgrims. The first Elizabethan to publicly resurrect the idea that travellers were bearers of fantastic tales with his character of Mendax was, believe it or not, William Bullein in his Dialogue against the feuer Pestilence. Since the practice of pilgrimage had died in Protestant England, Bullein connected the habit of lying with secular travellers. Other Elizabethan writers quickly adopted the image of the lying traveller, often connecting it with the name of the medieval Sir John Mandeville, the author of an extremely popular, if fantastic, book of tales. And the vice of lying rapidly became associated with the popular character of the educational traveller, especially the character of the foolish educational traveller. Sir John Melton’s traveller compounded his foolishness by lying in the effort to appear a wise and learned man; Ben Jonson’s foolish and deformed Amorphus lied “cheaper then any begger, and lowder then most clockes;” and Barnaby Rich’s farcical travellers emptied themselves of what little wit they had originally possessed, returning home sprouting lies along with their other foolish faults. George Chapman and James Shirley’s Freshwater, who epitomized the foolish traveller with his affected gait, speech and toothpick, also suffered the embarrassing personal problem of extreme bad breath that hindered his ability to tell lies convincingly. In prose, drama and verse authors portrayed travellers as habitual liars. In Breton’s An Olde Mans Lesson and a Young Mans Loue Chremes asked his son to relate truthfully his observations made during his travels, “for Trauailers are giuen (some say) to begull the worlde with gudgins.” In 1578 John Lyly somewhat ruefully commented in Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, “alas, Euphues, what truth can there be found in a traveller.” As the character of Freshwater demonstrates, the traveller-liar provided as useful an image for playwrights as it did for pamphleteers and essayists. “Have you learned any wit abroad?” Rhetias caustically asked Menaphon in John Ford’s The Lover’s Melancholy (produced in 1628), “Can you tell news and swear lies with … grace, like a true traveller?” Shakespeare, who incorporated so many of the popular images of the educational traveller into his plays, included a brief satirical defense of traveller-liars in The Tempest (produced 1611)., and writers like John Ford and Shakespeare, among others, incorporated the image of the traveller-liar into their work. The lying traveller was also a staple of ballads and jests, but, due to length and in some cases indecency, it proves impossible for me to repeat them here.

After approximately forty years of popular caricature the image of the traveller-liar was strong enough and accepted enough to appear in advice literature for gentleman generally and for travellers specifically. In 1617 in his book Quo Vadis? Joseph Hall contemptuously dismissed the habit of some travellers to “tell wonders to a ring of admiring ignorants.” In the same year, Fynes Moryson advised travellers not to be too quickly drawn by the promise of a crust of bread to relate their journeys and observations, believing that the tales of a few imposters had tarnished genuine travellers’ reputations. James Howell also advised travellers not to exaggerate what they had seen on their return; some, it appeared, had a custom to relate strange tales and wonders in the manner of Sir John Mandeville. Other works of conduct literature mentioned traveller-liars, and a few warned educational travellers about exaggerating their stories on their return home. Sir Francis Bacon recommended that travellers be reticent in telling stories on their return home, Thomas Fuller also cautioned travellers not to report improbable truths, “especially to the vulgar, who instead of informing their judgements will suspect thy credit,” while Richard Brathwaite included in The English Gentleman a warning to all men employed in state business to beware of travellers and their lies. No men were more subject to relating strange tales, he cautioned, than travellers, who “arrogate to themselves a libertie of invention in this kinde.” Statesmen should always be wary of giving credence to the foreign news they heard, “for divers there be who presuming of the distance of place, will invent and vent their inventions to curry favour.” Brathwaite advised the virtuous statesman to interrupt these traveller-liars and shame them by telling even more outrageous tales. Not only did authors of advice literature (often travellers themselves) incorporate advice against lying into their works, travellers themselves occasionally were sensitive enough to deny the charge of lying in prefaces to their publications of their travels.

A few years later Brathwaite explained why travellers were liars in his Survey of History:

Such as lie on their travel, either do it for admiration, or having run upon the adverse shelves of a deplored fortune, and force to invent strange things for the relief of their dejected estate. Such as publish less than they have seen (omitting things of the greatest consequence, to satisfy our humours with trifles) do it to gain pregnancy, or singularity rather of conceit [inserting] frivolous occrences, borrowed, or … invented by their own fantastic brains.

The incorporation of the images of the foolish and lying travellers into seventeenth-century advice for and discussion about educational travellers had direct links with the promotion and popularization of these same images in Elizabethan and Jacobean drama decades earlier. It is extremely doubtful that either of these two images would have appeared in the debate over and advice for travellers had it not been for popular parody. So why the differences in the relationship between popular parody and professional comment or advice for lawyers and physicians on the one hand and educational travellers on the other? Why did the popular press and stage simply reflect public and professional opinion for lawyers and physicians and shape it for travellers? The most significant factor is that not only were the legal and medical practices established and well recognised by the late sixteenth century, but criticism, advice and even caricature of these practices had also been established for generations, if not centuries, by this time. To a large extent, public opinion was already well formed by the time the lawyer and physician became two of the most popular subjects for caricature in the rapidly expanding popular press of the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods; satirists, playwrights, pamphleteers and jesters alike largely drew their inspiration from existing criticisms and opinions. They injected very few new elements into public discussions about the legal and medical practices; they certainly didn’t direct it. In the instances of the legal and medical practices of early modern England, popular parody reflected, it did not shape. The opposite is true in the instance of educational travel, and this was primarily because educational travel was a relatively new practice in Elizabethan England (although Englishmen had travelled abroad for educational purposes for many years, the practice only became popular during the late sixteenth century). There was very little established opinion, advice or criticism (or even general public awareness) about educational travellers before 1570 (apart from some generalized approval). This all changed very rapidly when the late Elizabethan popular press seized upon the traveller as a useful character for parody. The extraordinarily popular character of the Machiavellian Italianated traveller rapidly acquired overtones of foolishness and, probably thanks to William Bullein’s character of Mendax, habitual lying. For an entire generation, as knowledge of educational travel spread throughout English society, the overwhelming public personification of the traveller was negative; very often the only knowledge common people gained about educational travellers was from the public stage and popular press. Two of the most popular elements in public characters of travellers were foolishness and lying. These were traits that most travellers were not guilty of – in all my studies on travellers and their letters of the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods there were only a few fools evident and even fewer liars. Discussion of foolish and lying travellers began in the Elizabethan popular press and on the popular stage; by the early seventeenth century it spread to the portraits of travellers in character books; from the 1620s it then spread into advice literature and general public discussion of educational travel.

My initial conclusion from studying the relationship between popular parody and professional comment and debate in the instances of lawyers, physicians and travellers would be that popular parody could only significantly affect the development of professional opinion and advice of any given profession, or practice, if such a practice (or even general public awareness of the practice) developed alongside public parody. This paper has been the result of preliminary research into the relationship between popular parody of the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods and later seventeenth century professional comment; to arrive at a more complete conclusion it will be necessary to extend the survey to examine several other victims of popular parody in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, some of whom belonged to professions, groups or practices already established and recognized while others were merely in their initial stages of development and public recognition.

©1991 Sara Warneke / Sara Douglass Enterprises