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When a man visited foreign courts and wished to enter into social intercourse with ladies and fashionables, or move freely among soldiers, or settle a bill with an innkeeper, he found that he sorely needed the language of the country. To this effect I must precisely forbid him the fellowship or companie of one sort of people in generall: these are the Jesuites, underminders and inveiglers of greene wits, seducers of men in matter of faith, and subverters of men in matters of State, making of both a bad christian, and worse subject.❿
English Travellers of the Renaissance
If one had not the means to live with famous scholars, it was a good plan to take up lodgings with an eminent bookseller. At about the time when some of the most prominent courtiers–Edward Dyer, Gilbert Talbot, the Earl of Hertford, and more especially Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir Philip Sidney–had just returned from abroad, book-publishers thought it worth while to print books addressed to travellers. For Thomas’s tutor had difficulties in keeping his pupil from dog-fights, horses and worse amusements in company of the Earl of Hertford, who was a great hindrance to Thomas’s progress in the language. It must be remembered that in the sixteenth century there were no schools of political economy, of modern history or modern languages at the universities. Moryson himself, when forced to travel in company, chose Germans, kindly honest gentlemen, of his own religion. His elegant letter on the subject, [49] written a year after Zwinger’s book was published, was translated into English by Sir John Stradling in The most frequented is that of M.
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English Travellers of the Renaissance
This terrible person, on the 16th of December , at Lothbury, in London, at a table of twelve pence a meal, supped with some merchants and a certain Melchisedech Mallerie.❿
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How much the English Government feared the influence of the Jesuits upon young men abroad may be seen by the increasing strictness of licences for travellers. The ordinary licence which everyone but a known merchant was obliged to obtain from a magistrate before he could leave England, in gave permission with the condition that the traveller “do not haunte or resorte unto the territories or dominions of any foreine prince or potentate not being with us in league or amitie, nor yet wittinglie kepe companie with any parson or parsons evell affected to our State.
Lord Zouche grumbled exceedingly at the limitations of his licence. This restraint is truly as an imprisonment, for I know not how to carry myself; I know not whether I may pass upon the Lords of Venis, and the Duke of Florens’ territories, because I know not if they have league with her Majesty or no.
To come to our Instructions for Travellers, as given in the reign of James I. Sir Robert Dallington, in his Method for Travell , [] gives first place to the question of remaining steadfast in one’s religion:. And it is to be feared, that he which is of one religion in his youth, and of another in his manhood, will in his age be of neither Now what should one say of such men but as the Philosopher saith of a friend, ‘Amicus omnium, Amicus nullorum,’ A professor of both, a believer in neither.
To this effect I must precisely forbid him the fellowship or companie of one sort of people in generall: these are the Jesuites, underminders and inveiglers of greene wits, seducers of men in matter of faith, and subverters of men in matters of State, making of both a bad christian, and worse subject.
These men I would have my Travueller never heare, except in the Pulpit; for [] being eloquent, they speake excellent language; and being wise, and therefore best knowing how to speake to best purpose, they seldome or never handle matter of controversie. Our best authority in this period of travelling is Fynes Moryson, whose Precepts for Travellers [] are particularly full.
Moryson is well known as one of the most experienced travellers of the late Elizabethan era. On a travelling Fellowship from Peterhouse College, Cambridge, in he made a tour of Europe, when the Continent was bristling with dangers for Englishmen.
Spain and the Inquisition infected Italy and the Low Countries; France was full of desperate marauding soldiers; Germany nourished robbers and free-booters in every forest. It was the particular delight of Fynes Moryson to run into all these dangers and then devise means of escaping them.
He never swerved from seeing whatever his curiosity prompted him to, no matter how forbidden and perilous was the venture. Disguised as a German he successfully viewed the inside of a Spanish fort; [] in the character of a Frenchman he entered the jaws of the Jesuit College at Rome. For instance, when he was plucked bare by the French soldiers of even his inner doublet, in which he had quilted his money, he was by no means left penniless, for he had concealed some gold crowns in a box of “stinking ointment” which the soldiers threw down in disgust.
His Precepts for Travellers are characteristically canny. Never tell anyone you can swim, he advises, because in case of shipwreck “others trusting therein take hold of you, and make you perish with them. We are not all like Amadis or Rinalldo, to incounter an hoste of men. And to the end he may leave nothing behind him in his Innes, let the visiting of his chamber, and gathering his things together, be the last thing he doth, before hee put his foote into the stirrup. The whole of the Precepts is marked by this extensive caution.
Since, as Moryson truly remarks, travellers meet with more dangers than pleasures, it is better to travel alone than with a friend. And surely there happening many dangers and crosses by the way, many are of such intemperate affections, as they not only diminish the comfort they should have from this consort, but even as Dogs, hurt by a stone, bite him that is next, not him that cast the stone, so they may perhaps out of these crosses grow to bitterness of words betweene themselves.
Lest the traveller should become too well known to them, let him always declare that he is going no further than the next city. Arrived there, he may give them the slip and start with fresh consorts. Moryson himself, when forced to travel in company, chose Germans, kindly honest gentlemen, of his own religion. He could speak German well enough to pass as one of them, but in fear lest even a syllable might betray his nationality to the sharp spies at the city gates, he made an agreement with his companions that when he was forced to answer questions they should interrupt him as soon as possible, and take the words out of his mouth, as though in rudeness.
If he were discovered they were to say they knew him not, and flee away. Moryson advised the traveller to see Rome and Naples first, because those cities were the most dangerous. Men who stay in Padua some months, and afterwards try Rome, may be sure that the Jesuits and priests there are informed, not only of their coming, but of their condition and appearance by spies in Padua.
It were advisable to change one’s dwelling-place often, so to avoid the inquiries of priests. At Easter, in Rome, Moryson found the fullest scope for his genius. A few days before Easter a priest came to his lodgings and took the inmates’ names in writing, to the end that they might receive the Sacrament with the host’s family. Moryson went from Rome on the Tuesday before Easter, came to Siena on Good Friday, and upon Easter eve ” pretending great business ” darted to Florence for the day.
On Monday morning he dodged to Pisa, and on the folowing, back to Siena. The conception of travel one gathers from Fynes Moryson is that of a very exciting form of sport, a sort of chase across Europe, in which the tourist was the fox, doubling and turning and diving into cover, while his friends in England laid three to one on his death. So dangerous was travel at this time, that wagers on the return of venturous gentlemen became a fashionable form of gambling.
Sir Henry Wotton was a celebrated product of foreign education in these perilous times. As a student of political economy in he led a precarious existence, visiting Rome with the greatest secrecy, and in elaborate disguise.
For years abroad he drank in tales of subtlety and craft from old Italian courtiers, till he was well able to hold his own in intrigue. By nature imaginative and ingenious, plots and counterplots appealed to his artistic ability, and as English Ambassador to Venice, he was never tired of inventing them himself or attributing them to others. It was this characteristic of Jacobean politicians which Ben Jonson satirized in Sir Politick-Would-be, who divulged his knowledge of secret service to Peregrine in Venice.
Greatly excited by the mention of a certain priest in England, Sir Politick explains:. Sir Henry Wotton’s letter to Milton must not be left out of account of Jacobean advice to travellers. It is brief, but very characteristic, for it breathes the atmosphere of plots and caution.
Admired for his great experience and long sojourn abroad, in his old age, as Provost of Eton, Sir Henry’s advice was much sought after by fathers about to send their sons on the Grand Tour. Forty-eight years after he himself set forth beyond seas, he passed on to young John Milton “in procinct of his travels,” his favourite bit of wisdom, learned from a Roman courtier well versed in the ways of Italy: “I pensieri stretti e il viso sciolto.
So much for the admonitory side of instructions for travellers at the opening of the seventeenth century. Italy, we see, was still feared as a training-ground for “green wits. Parents could be easily alarmed by any possibility of their sons’ conversion to Romanism.
For the penalties of being a Roman Catholic in England were enough to make an ambitious father dread recusancy in his son. Though a gentleman or a nobleman ran no risk of being hanged, quartered, disembowelled and subjected to such punishments as were dealt out to active and dangerous priests, he was regarded as a traitor if he acknowledged himself to be a Romanist.
At any moment of anti-Catholic excitement he might be arrested and clapped into prison. Drearier than prison must have been his social isolation. For he was cut off from his generation and had no real part in the life of England. Under the laws of James he was denied any share in the Government, could hold no public office, practise no profession.
Neither law nor medicine, nor parliament nor the army, nor the university, was open to him. Banished from London and the Court, shunned by his contemporaries, he lurked in some country house, now miserably lonely, now plagued by officers in search of priests.
At last, generally, he went abroad, and wandered out his life, an exile, despised by his countrymen, who met him hanging on at foreign Courts; or else he sought a monastery and was buried there. To be sure, the laws against recusants were not uniformly enforced; papistry in favourites and friends of the king was winked at, and the rich noblemen, who were able to pay fines, did not suffer much.
But the fact remains that for the average gentleman to turn Romanist generally meant to drop out of the world. The admonitions of their elders did not keep young men from going to Italy, but as the seventeenth century advanced the conditions they found there made that country less attractive than France. The fact that the average Englishman was a Protestant divided him from his compeers in Italy and damped social intercourse.
He was received courteously and formally by the Italian princes, perhaps, for the sake of his political uncle or cousin in England, but inner distrust and suspicion blighted any real friendship. Unless the Englishman was one of those who had a secret, half-acknowledged allegiance to Romanism, there could not, in the age of the Puritans, be much comfortable affection between him and the Italians. The beautiful youth, John Milton, as the author of excellent Latin verse, was welcomed into the literary life of Florence, to be sure, and there were other unusual cases, but the typical traveller of Stuart times was the young gentleman who was sent to France to learn the graces, with a view to making his fortune at Court, even as his widowed mother sent George Villiers, afterwards Duke of Buckingham.
The Englishmen who travelled for “the complete polishing of their parts” continued to visit Italy, to satisfy their curiosity, but it was rather in the mood of the sight-seer. Only malcontents, at odds with their native land, like Bothwell, or the Earl of Arundel, or Leicester’s disinherited son, made prolonged residence in Italy.
Aspiring youth, seeking a social education, for the most part hurried to France. For it was not only a sense of being surrounded by enemies which during the seventeenth century somewhat weakened the Englishman’s allegiance to Italy, but the increasing attractiveness of another country.
By it was said of France that “Unto no other countrie, so much as unto this, doth swarme and flow yearly from all Christian nations, such a multitude, and concourse of young Gentlemen, Marchants, and other sorts of men: some, drawen from their Parentes bosoms by desire of learning; some, rare Science, or new conceites; some by pleasure; and others allured by lucre and gain But among all other Nations, there cometh not such a great multitude to Fraunce from any Country, as doth yearely from this Isle England , both of Gentlemen, Students, Marchants, and others.
Held in peace by Henry of Navarre, France began to be a happier place than Italy for the Englishman abroad. Germany was impossible, because of the Thirty Years’ War; and Spain, for reasons which we shall see later on, was not inviting.
Though nominally Roman Catholic, France was in fact half Protestant. Besides, the French Court was great and gay, far outshining those of the impoverished Italian princes.
It suited the gallants of the Stuart period, who found the grave courtesy of the Italians rather slow. Learning, for which men once had travelled into Italy, was no longer confined there. Nor did the Cavaliers desire exact classical learning. A knowledge of mythology, culled from French translations, was sufficient. Accomplishments, such as riding, fencing, and dancing, were what chiefly helped them, it appeared, to make their way at Court or at camp.
And the best instruction in these accomplishments had shifted from Italy to France. A change had come over the ideal of a gentleman–a reaction from the Tudor enthusiasm for letters. The somewhat moderated esteem in which book-learning was held in the household of Charles I. Of pedantry, however, there never seems to have been any danger in Court circles, either in Tudor or Stuart days.
It took constant exhortations to make the majority of noblemen’s sons learn anything at all out of books. For centuries the marks of a gentleman had been bravery, courtesy and a good seat in the saddle, and it was not to be supposed that a sudden fashionable enthusiasm for literature could change all that.
Ascham had declared that the Elizabethan young bloods thought it shameful to be learned because the “Jentlemen of France” were not so. Henry Peacham, in , described noblemen’s flagging faith in a university education. They sent their sons to Oxford or Cambridge at an early age, and if the striplings did not immediately lay hold on philosophy, declared that they had no aptitude for learning, and removed them to a dancing school.
But to mend the matter, send them either to the Court to serve as Pages, or into France and Italy to see fashions, and mend their manners, where they become ten times worse. The influence of France would not be towards books, certainly. Brave, gallant, and magnificent were the Gallic gentlemen; but not learned.
As the Vicomte D’Avenel has crisply put it:. The poorest younger son of an ancient family, who would not disdain to engage himself as a page to a nobleman, or as a common soldier, would have thought himself debased by accepting the post of secretary to an ambassador. Brute force was still considered the greatest power in the world, even when Sully was Conseiller d’Etat, though divining spirits like Eustache Deschamps had declared that the day would come when serving-men would rule France by their wits, all because the noblesse would not learn letters.
When a boy came from the university to Court, he found himself eclipsed by young pages, who scarcely knew how to read, but had killed their man in a duel, and danced to perfection.
The martial type which France evolved dazzled other nations, and it is not surprising that under the Stuarts, who had inherited French ways, the English Court was particularly open to French ideals. Our directions for travellers reflect the change from the typical Elizabethan courtier, “somewhat solemn, coy, big and dangerous of look,” to the easy manners of the cavalier. A Method for Travell , written while Elizabeth was still on the throne, extols Italian conduct. The first writer of advice to travellers who assumes that French accomplishments are to be a large part of the traveller’s education, is Sir Robert Dallington, whom we have already quoted.
His View of France [] to which the Method for Travel is prefixed, deserves a reprint, for both that and his Survey of Tuscany , [] though built on the regular model of the Elizabethan traveller’s “Relation,” being a conscientious account of the chief geographical, economic, architectural, and social features of the country traversed, are more artistic than the usual formal reports.
Dallington wrote these Views in , a little before the generation which modelled itself on the French gallants, and his remarks on Frenchmen may well have served as a warning to courtiers not to imitate the foibles, along with the admirable qualities, of their compeers across the Channel. For instance, he is outraged by the effusiveness of the “violent, busy-headed and impatient Frenchman,” who “showeth his lightness and inconstancie A childish humour, to be wonne with as little as an Apple and lost with lesse than a Nut.
Dallington deems Henry of Navarre “more affable and familiar than fits the Majesty of a great King. Nor can Dallington conceal his disapproval of foreign food. The sorrows of the beef-eating Englishman among the continentals were always poignant. Dallington is only one of the many travellers who, unable to grasp the fact that warmer climes called for light diet, reproached the Italians especially for their “parsimony and thin feeding.
I shall not need to tell him before what his dyet shall be, his appetite will make it better than it is: for he shall be still kept sharpe: only of the difference of dyets, he shall observe thus much: that of Germanie is full or rather fulsome; that of France allowable; that of Italie tolerable; with the Dutch he shall have much meat ill-dressed: with the French lesse, but well handled; with the Italian neither the one nor the other.
Though there is much in Dallington’s description of Italy and France to repay attention, our concern is with his Method for Travell , [] which, though more practical than the earlier Elizabethan essays of the same sort, opens in the usual style of exhortation:. The eye-sight of those things, which otherwise a man cannot have but by Tradition; A Sandy foundation either in matter of Science, or Conscience.
So that a purpose to Travell, if it be not ad voluptatem Solum, sed ad utilitatem, argueth an industrious and generous minde. Base and vulgar spirits hover still about home: those are more noble and divine, that imitate the Heavens, and joy in motion. After a warning against Jesuits, which we have quoted, he comes at once to definite directions for studying modern languages [] –advice which though sound is hardly novel. Continual speaking with all sorts of people, insisting that his teacher shall not do all the talking, and avoiding his countrymen are unchangeable rules for him who shall travel for language.
This I meane to my Traveller that is young and meanes to follow the Court: otherwise I hold it needelesse, and in some ridiculous. Chamberlain reports that Sir Henry Bowyer died of the violent exercise he underwent while practising dancing. His copy of Nuove Inventioni di Balli [] may be seen in the British Museum, with large plates illustrating how to “gettare la gamba,” that is, in the words of Chaucer, “with his legges casten to and fro.
The Spanish Ambassador reports how “The Prince of Wales was desired by his royal parents to open the ball with a Spanish gallarda: he acquitted himself with much grace and delicacy, introducing some occasional leaps. I praye you in the meantyme keep your selfis in use of dawncing privatlie, thogh ye showlde quhissell and sing one to another like Jakke and Tom for faulte of better musike.
However, Dallington is very much against the saltations of elderly persons. Dallington would have criticized Frenchmen more severely than ever had he known that even Sully gave way in private to a passion for dancing. Tennis is another courtly exercise in which Dallington urges moderation.
A maine point of the Travellers care. The monks had had to be requested not to play–especially, the edict said, “not in public in their shirts. A thing more hurtfull then our Ale-houses in England.
These are Riding and Fencing. His best place for the first excepting Naples is in Florence under il Signor Rustico, the great Dukes Cavallerizzo, and for the second excepting Rome is in Padua, under il Sordo.
Pluvinel was soon to make a world-renowned riding academy in Paris, but the art of fencing was more slowly disseminated. One was still obliged, like Captain Bobadil, to make “long travel for knowledge, in that mystery only. Some instructors would never allow a living soul in the room where they were giving lessons to a pupil.
And even then they used to keek everywhere, under the beds, and examine the wall to see if it had any crack or hole through which a person could peer. When the influence of France over the ideals of a gentleman was well established, James Howell wrote his Instructions for Forreine Travell , [] and in this book for the first time the traveller is advised to stay at one of the French academies–or riding schools, as they really were.
His is the best known, probably, of all our treatises, partly because it was reprinted a little while ago by Mr Gosse, and partly because of its own merits. Howell had an easier, more indulgent outlook upon the world than Dallington, and could see all nations with equal humour–his own included. Take his comparison of the Frenchman and the Spaniard. The Frenchman “will dispatch the weightiest affairs as hee walke along in the streets, or at meales, the other upon the least occasion of businesse will retire solemnly to a room, and if a fly chance to hum about him, it will discompose his thoughts and puzzle him: It is a kind of sicknesse for a Frenchman to keep a secret long, and all the drugs of Egypt cannot get it out of a Spaniard The Frenchman walks fast, as if he had a Sergeant always at his heels, the Spaniard slowly, as if hee were newly come out of some quartan Ague; the French go up and down the streets confusedly in clusters, the Spaniards if they be above three, they go two by two, as if they were going a Procession; etc.
With the same humorous eye he observes the Englishmen returned to London from Paris, “whom their gate and strouting, their bending in the hammes, and shoulders, and looking upon their legs, with frisking and singing do speake them Travellers Some make their return in huge monstrous Periwigs, which is the Golden Fleece they bring over with them.
Such, I say, are a shame to their Country abroad, and their kinred at home, and to their parents, Benonies, the sons of sorrow: and as Jonas in the Whales belly, travelled much, but saw little.
And the English generally are observed by all other Nations, to ride commonly with that speed as if they rid for a midwife, or a Physitian, or to get a pardon to save one’s life as he goeth to execution, when there is no such thing, or any other occasion at all, which makes them call England the Hell of Horses. We need not comment in detail upon Howell’s book since it is so accessible. The passage which chiefly marks the progress of travel for study’s sake is this:. These academies were one of the chief attractions which France had for the gentry of England in the seventeenth century.
Pluvinel, returning from a long apprenticeship to Pignatelli in Naples, made his own riding-school the best in the world, so that the French no longer had to journey to Italian masters. In imitation of his establishment, many other riding-masters, such as Benjamin, Potrincourt, and Nesmond, set up others of the same sort, which drew pupils from other nations during all the seventeenth century.
The most frequented is that of M. Englishmen found the academies very useful retreats where a boy could learn French accomplishments without incurring the dangers of foreign travel and make the acquaintance of young nobles of his own age. Mr Thomas Lorkin writing from Paris in , outlines to the tutor of the Prince of Wales the routine of his pupil Mr Puckering [] at such an establishment. The morning began with two hours on horseback, followed by two hours at the French tongue, and one hour in “learning to handle his weapon.
It will be seen that there was an exact balance between physical and mental exercise–four hours of each. All in all, academies seemed to be the solution of preparing for life those who were destined to shine at Court.
The problem had been felt in England, as well as in France. Nor was that of Prince Henry, who had also wanted to establish a Royal Academy or School of Arms, in which all the king’s wards and others should be educated and exercised.
However, the idea of setting up in England the sort of academy which was successful in France was such an obvious one that it kept constantly recurring. In a courtly parasite, Sir Balthazar Gerbier, who used to be a miniature painter, an art-critic, and Master of Ceremonies to Charles I.
There are still in existence his elaborate advertisements of its attractions, addressed to “All Fathers of Noble Families and Lovers of Vertue,” and proposing his school as “a meanes, whereby to free them of such charges as they are at, when they send their children to foreign academies, and to render them more knowing in those languages, without exposing them to the dangers incident to travellers, and to that of evill companies, or of giving to forrain parts the glory of their education.
Faubert, however, another French Protestant refugee, was more successful with an academy he managed to set up in London in , “to lessen the vast expense the nation is at yearly by sending children into France to be taught military exercises.
But the Duke of Norfolk told me he had not been at this exercise these twelve years before. But all these efforts to educate English boys on the lines of French ones came to nothing, because at the close of the seventeenth century Englishmen began to realize that it was not wise for a gentleman to confine himself to a military life.
As to riding as a fine art, his practical mind felt that it was all very well to amuse oneself in Paris by learning to make a war-horse caracole, but there was no use in taking such things too seriously; that in war “a ruder way of riding was more in use, without observing the precise rules of riding the great horse. Even Sir Philip Sidney made gentle fun of the hippocentric universe of his Italian riding master:. And hee, according to the fertilnes of the Italian wit, did not onely afoord us the demonstration of his practise, but sought to enrich our mindes with the contemplations therein, which hee thought most precious.
But with none I remember mine eares were at any time more loden, then when ether angred with slowe paiment, or mooved with our learner-like admiration, he exercised his speech in the prayse of his facultie.
Hee sayd, Souldiers were the noblest estate of mankinde, and horsemen, the noblest of Souldiours. He sayde, they were the Maistres of warre, and ornaments of peace: speedy goers, and strong abiders, triumphers both in Camps and Courts.
Nay, to so unbeleeved a poynt hee proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred such wonder to a Prince, as to be a good horseman. Skill of government, was but a Pedanteria in comparison: then woulde he adde certaine prayses, by telling what a peerlesse beast a horse was.
The only serviceable Courtier without flattery, the beast of the most beutie, faithfulness, courage, and such more, that if I had not beene a peece of a Logician before I came to him, I think he would have perswaded mee to have wished my selfe a Horse.
That this was somewhat the spirit of the French academies there seems no doubt. Though they claimed to give an equal amount of physical and mental exercise, they tended to the muscular side of the programme. It is true they have men there who teach Arithmetick, which they call Philosophy, and the Art of Fortification, which they call the Mathematicks; but what Learning they had there, I might easily imagine, when he assured me, that in Three years which he had spent in the Academy, he never saw a Latin book nor any Master that taught anything there, who would not have taken it very ill to be suspected to speake or understand Latin.
And, if such an one, who for instance hath waited on his master in one or two campagnes, and is able perhaps to copy the draught of a fortification from another paper; this is called mathematicks; and, beyond this if so much you are not to expect. A certain Mr P. Chester finishes the English condemnation of a school, such as Benjamin’s, by declaring that its pretensions to fit men for life was “like the shearing of Hoggs, much Noyse and little Wooll, nothing considerable taught that I know, butt only to fitt a man to be a French chevalier, that is in plain English a Trooper.
These comments are what one expects from Oxford, to be sure, but even M. Jusserand acknowledges that the academies were not centres of intellectual light, and quotes to prove it certain questions asked of a pupil put into the Bastille, at the demand of his father:. However, something of an education had to be provided for Royalist boys at the time of the Civil War, when Oxford was demoralized.
Parents wandering homeless on the Continent were glad enough of the academies. Even the Stuarts tried them, though the Duke of Gloucester had to be weaned from the company of some young French gallants, “who, being educated in the same academy, were more familiar with him than was thought convenient.
But the effects of being reared in France, and too early thrown into the dissolute Courts of Europe, were evident at the Restoration, when Charles the Second and his friends returned to startle England with their “exceeding wildness. It was from Italy, De Gramont said, that Chesterfield brought those elaborate manners, and that jealousy about women, for which he was so notorious among the rakes of the Restoration.
Henry Peacham’s chapter “Of Travaile” [] is for the most part built out of Dallington’s advice, but it is worthy of note that in The Compleat Gentleman , Spain is pressed upon the traveller’s attention for the first time. This is, of course, the natural reflection of an interest in Spain due to the romantic adventures of Prince Charles and Buckingham in that country.
James Howell, who was of their train, gives even more space to it in his Instructions for Forreine Travell. Notwithstanding, and though Spain was, after , fairly safe for Englishmen, as a pleasure ground it was not popular. It was a particularly uncomfortable and expensive country; hardly improved from the time– –when Clenardus, weary with traversing deserts on his way to the University of Salamanca, after a sparse meal of rabbit, sans wine, sans water, composed himself to sleep on the floor of a little hut, with nothing to pillow his head on except his three negro grooms, and exclaimed, “O misera Lusitania, beati qui non viderunt.
None escaped. Henry the Eighth’s Ambassador complained loudly and frantically of the outrage to a person in his office. But the officers said grimly “that if Christ or Sanct Fraunces came with all their flock they should not escape. Besides the room was full of men and women, “blacker than Devils and clad like Beggars The streets were so ill-paved that the horses splashed water into one’s carriage at every step. How little the solemnity of the Spanish nobles pleased English courtiers used to the boisterous ways of James I.
Lord Clarendon remarks that in Madrid travellers “will find less delight to reside than in any other Place to which we have before commended them: for that Nation having less Reverence for meer Travellers, who go Abroad, without Business, are not at all solicitous to provide for their Accomodation: and when they complain of the want of many Conveniences, as they have reason to do, they wonder men will come from Home, who will be troubled for those Incommodities.
It is no wonder, therefore, that Spain was considered a rather tedious country for strangers, and that Howell “met more Passengers ‘twixt Paris and Orleans, than I found well neer in all the Journey through Spain. Holland, on the other hand, provoked their admiration more and more. Travellers were never done exclaiming at its municipal governments, its reformatories and workhouses, its industry, frugality, and social economy.
The neat buildings, elegant streets, and quiet inns, were the subject of many encomiums. Descartes, who chose Amsterdam as the place in which to think out his philosophy, praised it as the ideal retreat for students, contending that it was far better for them than Italy, with its plagues, heat, unwholesome evenings, murder and robbery. Holland was of peculiar delight to the traveller of the seventeenth century because it contained so many curiosities and rareties.
To ferret out objects of vertu the Jacobean gentleman would take any journey. People with cabinets of butterflies, miniatures, shells, ivory, or Indian beads, were pestered by tourists asking to see their treasures.
Evelyn in Rotterdam hovered between his delight in the brass statue of Erasmus and a pelican, which he carefully describes. The great charm of Dutch inns for Sam Paterson was their hoards of China and Japan ware and the probability you had of meeting a purring marmot, a squeaking guinea-pig, or a tame rabbit with a collar of bells, hopping through the house. But we have dwelt too long, perhaps, on those who voyaged to see knick-knacks, and to gain accomplishments at French academies.
Though the academies were characteristic of the seventeenth century, there were other centres of education sought by Englishmen abroad. How fearful and careful the mothers and parents be here of such young gentlemen as be there, you may easily guess by my Lady Lane, who prayeth very earnestly that her son may be sent home with as much speed as may be.
The dangers of travel were of a nature to alarm mothers. As well as Catholics, there were shipwrecks, pirates, and highway robbers. Moors and Turks lay waiting “in a little port under the hill,” to take passenger vessels that went between Rome and Naples. A man dared not make any display of money for fear of being murdered in the night.
It was a rare treat to have a bed to oneself. More probably the traveller was obliged to share it with a stranger of disagreeable appearance, if not of disposition. The third Lord North was ill for life because of the immoderate quantities of hot treacle he consumed in Italy, to avoid the plague. But it was not really the low material dangers of small-pox, quartain ague, or robbers which troubled the Elizabethan. Such considerations were beneath his heroical temper. Sir Edward Winsor, warned against the piratical Gulf of Malta, writes: “And for that it should not be said an Englishman to come so far to see Malta, and to have turned backe againe, I determined rather making my sepulker of that Golfe.
So far we have not mentioned in our description of the books addressed to travellers any of the reminders of the trials of Ulysses, and dark warnings against the “Siren-songs of Italy. The traveller newly returned from foreign lands was a great butt for the satirists. In Elizabethan times his bows and tremendous politeness, his close-fitting black clothes from Venice, his French accent, his finicky refinements, such as perfumes and pick-tooths, were highly offensive to the plain Englishman.
One was always sure of an appreciative audience if he railed at the “disguised garments and desperate hats” of the “affectate traveller” how; his attire spoke French or Italian, and his gait cried “behold me!
Monsieur Mingo de Moustrap. Naught else have they profited by their travell, save learnt to distinguish of the true Burdeaux Grape, and know a cup of neate Gascoygne wine from wine of Orleance; yea, and peradventure this also, to esteeme of the poxe as a pimple, to weare a velvet patch on their face, and walke melancholy with their armes folded.
The Frenchified traveller came in for a good share of satire, but darker things were said of the Italianate Englishman.
He was an atheist–a creature hitherto unknown in England–who boldly laughed to scorn both Protestant and Papist. He mocked the Pope, railed on Luther, and liked none, but only himself. Vanitie and vice and any licence to ill living in England was counted stale and rude unto them. It is likely that some of these accusations were true. Italy more than any other country charmed the Elizabethan Englishman, partly because the climate and the people and the look of things were so unlike his own grey home.
Particularly Venice enchanted him. The sun, the sea, the comely streets, “so clean that you can walk in a Silk Stockin and Sattin Slippes,” [] the tall palaces with marble balconies, and golden-haired women, the flagellants flogging themselves, the mountebanks, the Turks, the stately black-gowned gentlemen, were new and strange, and satisfied his sense of romance. Besides, the University of Padua was still one of the greatest universities in Europe. Students from all nations crowded to it.
William Thomas describes the “infinite resorte of all nacions that continually is seen there. And I thinke verilie, that in one region of all the worlde againe, are not halfe so many straungers as in Italie; specially of gentilmen, whose resorte thither is principallie under pretence of studie This last wynter living in Padoa, with diligent serche I learned, that the noumbre of scholers there was little lesse than fiftene hundreth; whereof I dare saie, a thousande at the lest were gentilmen.
The life of a student at Padua was much livelier than the monastic seclusion of an English university. He need not attend many lectures, for, as Thomas Hoby explains, after a scholar has been elected by the rectors, “He is by his scholarship bound to no lectures, nor nothing elles but what he lyst himselfe to go to. Then, too, the scholar diversified his labours by excursions to Venice, in one of those passenger boats which plied daily from Padua, of which was said “that the boat shall bee drowned, when it carries neither Monke, nor Student, nor Curtesan In the renowned freedom of that city where “no man marketh anothers dooynges, or meddleth with another mans livyng,” [] it was no wonder if a young man fresh from an English university and away from those who knew him, was sometimes “enticed by lewd persons:” and, once having lost his innocence, outdid even the students of Padua.
For, as Greene says, “as our wits be as ripe as any, so our willes are more ready than they all, to put into effect any of their licentious abuses. Hence the warnings against Circes by even those authors most loud in praise of travel. Lipsius bids his noble pupil beware of Italian women: ” It was necessary also to warn the traveller against those more harmless sins which we have already mentioned: against an arrogant bearing on his return to his native land, or a vanity which prompted him at all times to show that he had been abroad, and was not like the common herd.
Perhaps it was an intellectual affectation of atheism or a cultivated taste for Machiavelli with which he was inclined to startle his old-fashioned countrymen. No doubt there was in the returned traveller a certain degree of condescension which made him disagreeable–especially if he happened to be a proud and insolent courtier, who attracted the Queen’s notice by his sharpened wits and novelties of discourse, or if he were a vain boy of the sort that cumbered the streets of London with their rufflings and struttings.
In making surmises as to whom Ascham had in his mind’s eye when he said that he knew men who came back from Italy with “less learning and worse manners,” I guessed that one might be Arthur Hall, the first translator of Homer into English. Hall was a promising Grecian at Cambridge, and began his translation with Ascham’s encouragement. It would have irritated Ascham to have a member of St John’s throw over his task and his degree to go gadding. Certainly Hall’s after life bore out Ascham’s forebodings as to the value of foreign travel.
On his return he spent a notorious existence in London until the consequences of a tavern brawl turned him out of Parliament. I might dwell for a moment on Hall’s curious account of this latter affair, because it is one of the few utterances we have by an acknowledged Italianate Englishman–of a certain sort. The humorists throw a good deal of light on such “yong Jyntelmen.
Also spending more tyme in sportes, and following the same, than is any way commendable, and the lesse, bycause, I warrant you, the summes be great are dealte for. This terrible person, on the 16th of December , at Lothbury, in London, at a table of twelve pence a meal, supped with some merchants and a certain Melchisedech Mallerie.
Dice were thrown on the board, and in the course of play Mallerie “gave the lye with harde wordes in heate to one of the players. Here Etna smoked, daggers were a-drawing But a certain Master Richard Drake, attending on my Lord of Leicester, took pains first to warn Hall to take heed of Mallerie at play, and then to tell Mallerie that Hall said he used “lewde practices at cards.
He said he was patient because he was bound to keep the peace for dark disturbances in the past. Mallerie said it was because he was a coward. Mallerie continued to say so for months, until before a crowd of gentlemen at the “ordinary” of one Wormes, his taunts were so unbearable that Hall crept up behind him and tried to stab him in the back. There was a general scuffle, some one held down Hall, the house grew full in a moment with Lord Zouche, gentlemen, and others, while “Mallerie with a great shreke ranne with all speede out of the doores, up a paire of stayres, and there aloft used most harde wordes againste Mr Hall.
Hall, who had cut himself–and nobody else–nursed his wound indoors for some days, during which time friends brought word that Mallerie would “shewe him an Italian tricke, intending thereby to do him some secret and unlooked for mischief. Business called him, he tells the reader. There was no ground whatever for Mallerie to say he fled in disguise.
After six months, he ventured to return to London and be gay again. He dined at “James Lumelies–the son, as it is said, of old M. Dominicke, born at Genoa, of the losse of whose nose there goes divers tales,”–and coming by a familiar gaming-house on his way back to his lodgings, he “fell to with the rest.
But there is no peace for him. In comes Mallerie–and with insufferably haughty gait and countenance, brushes by. Hall tries a pleasant saunter around Poules with his friend Master Woodhouse: “comes Mallerie again, passing twice or thrice by Hall, with great lookes and extraordinary rubbing him on the elbowes, and spurning three or four times a Spaniel of Mr Woodhouses following his master and Master Hall.
We will not follow the narrative through the subsequent lawsuit brought by Mallerie against Hall’s servants, the trial presided over by Recorder Fleetwood, the death of Mallerie, who “departed well leanyng to the olde Father of Rome, a dad whome I have heard some say Mr Hall doth not hate” or Hall’s subsequent expulsion from Parliament. This is enough to show the sort of harmless, vain braggarts some of these “Italianates” were, and how easily they acquired the reputation of being desperate fellows.
Mallerie’s lawyer at the trial charged Hall with “following the revenge with an Italian minde learned at Rome. Acworth had lived abroad during Mary’s reign, studying civil law in France and Italy. When Elizabeth came to the throne he was elected public orator of the University of Cambridge, but through being idle, dissolute, and a drunkard, he lost all his preferments in England.
It was then that the Duke bitterly dubbed him an “Italianfyd Inglyschemane,” equal in faithlessness to “a schamlesse Scote”; [] i. Edward de Vere, seventeenth Earl of Oxford, famous for his rude behaviour to Sir Philip Sidney, whom he subsequently tried to dispatch with hired assassins after the Italian manner, [] might well have been one of the rising generation of courtiers whom Ascham so deplored. In Ascham’s lifetime he was already a conspicuous gallant, and by , at the age of twenty-two, he was the court favourite.
The friends of the Earl of Rutland, keeping him informed of the news while he was fulfilling in Paris those heavy duties of observation which Cecil mapped out for him, announce that “There is no man of life and agility in every respect in Court, but the Earl of Oxford.
At the very time when the Queen “delighted more in his personage and his dancing and valiantness than any other,” [] Oxford betook himself to Flanders–without licence. Though his father-in-law Burghley had him brought back to the indignant Elizabeth, the next year he set forth again and made for Italy.
From Siena, on January 3rd, , he writes to ask Burghley to sell some of his land so as to disburden him of his debts, and in reply to some warning of Burghley’s that his affairs in England need attention, replies that since his troubles are so many at home, he has resolved to continue his travels.
In another letter also [] he assures Cecil that he means to acquaint himself with Sturmius–that educator of youth so highly approved of by Ascham. He did not know this till his late return to Venice. He has been grieved with a fever. The letter concludes with a mention that he has taken up of Baptista Nigrone crowns, which he desires repaid from the sale of his lands, and a curt thanks for the news of his wife’s delivery.
From Paris, after an interval of six months, he declares his pleasure at the news of his being a father, but makes no offer to return to England.
Rather he intends to go back to Venice. He “may pass two or three months in seeing Constantinople and some part of Greece. However, Burghley says, “I wrote to Pariss to hym to hasten hym homewards,” and in April , he landed at Dover in an exceedingly sulky mood. He refused to see his wife, and told Burghley he might take his daughter into his own house again, for he was resolved “to be rid of the cumber. Certain results of his travel were pleasing to his sovereign, however.
For he was the first person to import to England “gloves, sweete bagges, a perfumed leather Jerkin, and other pleasant things. Arthur Hall and the Earl of Oxford will perhaps serve to show that many young men pointed out as having returned the worse for their liberty to see the world, were those who would have been very poor props to society had they never left their native land.
Weak and vain striplings of entirely English growth escaped the comment attracted by a sinner with strange garments and new oaths. For in those garments themselves lay an offence to the commonwealth. I need only refer to the well-known jealousy, among English haberdashers and milliners, of the superior craft of Continental workmen, behind whom English weavers lagged: Henry the Eighth used to have to wear hose cut out of pieces of cloth–on that leg of which he was so proud–unless “by great chance there came a paire of Spanish silke stockings from Spaine.
Wrapped up with economic acrimony there was a good deal of the hearty old English hatred of a Frenchman, or a Spaniard, or any foreigner, which was always finding expression.
Either it was the ‘prentices who rioted, or some rude fellow who pulls up beside the carriage of the Spanish ambassador, snatches the ambassador’s hat off his head and “rides away with it up the street as fast as he could, the people going on and laughing at it,” [] or it was the Smithfield officers deputed to cut swords of improper length, who pounced upon the French ambassador because his sword was longer than the statutes allowed.
Her Majestie is greatly offended with the officers, in that they wanted judgement. There was also a dislike of the whole new order of things, of which the fashion for travel was only a phase: dislike of the new courtier who scorned to live in the country, surrounded by a huge band of family servants, but preferred to occupy small lodgings in London, and join in the pleasures of metropolitan life.
The theatre, the gambling resorts, the fence-schools, the bowling alleys, and above all the glamor of the streets and the crowd were charms only beginning to assert themselves in Elizabethan England. But the popular voice was loud against the nobles who preferred to spend their money on such things instead of on improving their estates, and who squandered on fine clothes what used to be spent on roast beef for their retainers.
Greene’s Quip for an Upstart Courtier parodies what the new and refined Englishman would say Time hath set a new edge on gentlemen’s humours and they show them as they should be: not like gluttons as their fathers did, in chines of beefe and almes to the poore, but in velvets, satins, cloth of gold, pearle: yea, pearle lace, which scarce Caligula wore on his birthday.
On the whole, we may say that the objections to foreign travel rose from a variety of motives. Ascham doubtless knew genuine cases of young men spoiled by too much liberty, and there were surely many obnoxious boys who bragged of their “foreign vices. Lastly, there was another element in the protest against foreign travel, which grew more and more strong towards the end of the reign of Elizabeth and the beginning of James the First’s, the hatred of Italy as the stronghold of the Roman Catholic Church, and fear of the Inquisition.
Warnings against the Jesuits are a striking feature of the next group of Instructions to Travellers. The quickening of animosity between Protestants and Catholics in the last quarter of the sixteenth century had a good deal to do with the censure of travel which we have been describing. In their fear and hatred of the Roman Catholic countries, Englishmen viewed with alarm any attractions, intellectual or otherwise, which the Continent had for their sons. They had rather have them forego the advantages of a liberal education than run the risk of falling body and soul into the hands of the Papists.
The intense, fierce patriotism which flared up to meet the Spanish Armada almost blighted the genial impulse of travel for study’s sake. It divided the nations again, and took away the common admiration for Italy which had made the young men of the north all rush together there. We can no longer imagine an Englishman like Selling coming to the great Politian at Bologna and grappling him to his heart–“arctissima sibi conjunxit amicum familiaritate,” [] as the warm humanistic phrase has it.
In the seventeenth century Politian would be a “contagious Papist,” using his charm to convert men to Romanism, and Selling would be a “true son of the Church of England,” railing at Politian for his “debauch’d and Popish principles.
They had scarcely started before the Reformation called it a place of abomination. Lord Burghley, who in Elizabeth’s early days had been so bent on a foreign education for his eldest son, had drilled him in languages and pressed him to go to Italy, [] at the end of his long life left instructions to his children: “Suffer not thy sonnes to pass the Alps, for they shall learn nothing there but pride, blasphemy, and atheism.
And if by travel they get a few broken languages, that shall profit them nothing more than to have one meat served on divers dishes. The mother of Francis Bacon affords a good example of the Puritan distrust of going “beyond seas. All through his prolonged stay abroad she chafed and fretted, while Anthony perversely remained in France, gaining that acquaintance with valuable correspondents, spies, and intelligencers which later made him one of the greatest authorities in England on continental politics.
He had a confidential servant, a Catholic named Lawson, whom he sent over to deliver some important secret news to Lord Burghley. Lady Bacon, in her fear lest Lawson’s company should pervert her son’s religion and morals, had the man arrested and detained in England. His anxious master sent another man to plead with his mother for Lawson’s release; but in vain. The letter of this messenger to Anthony will serve to show the vehemence of anti-Catholic feelings in a British matron in She cannot abide to hear of you, as she saith, nor of the other especially, and told me plainly she should be the worse this month for my coming without you, and axed me why you could not have come from thence as well as myself.
It was not only a general hatred of Roman Catholics which made staunch Protestants anxious to detain their sons from foreign travel towards the end of Elizabeth’s reign, but a very lively and well-grounded fear of the Inquisition and the Jesuits. When England was at war with Spain, any Englishman caught on Spanish territory was a lawful prisoner for ransom; and since Spanish territory meant Sicily, Naples, and Milan, and Rome was the territory of Spain’s patron, the Pope, Italy was far from safe for Englishmen and Protestants.
Even when peace with Spain was declared, on the accession of James I. There is a letter, for instance, to Salisbury from one of his agents on the Continent, concerning overtures made to him by the Pope’s nuncio, to decoy some Englishman of note–young Lord Roos or Lord Cranborne–into papal dominions, where he might be seized and detained, in hope of procuring a release for Baldwin the Jesuit.
Send me, I pray you, a note of the chief towns to be passed through. I care not for seeing places, but to go thither the shortest and safest way. Bedell’s fears were not without reason, for the very next year occurred the arrest of the unfortunate Mr Mole, whose case was one of the sensations of the day.
Fuller, in his Church History , under the year , records how He was appointed by Thomas, Earl of Exeter, to be Governour in Travail to his Grandchilde, the Lord Ross, undertaking the charge with much reluctance as a presage of ill successe and with a profession, and a resolution not to passe the Alpes. In vain doth Mr Molle dissuade him, grown now so wilfull, he would in some sort govern his Governour.
What should this good man doe? To leave him were to desert his trust, to goe along with him were to endanger his own life. At last his affections to his charge so prevailed against his judgment, that unwillingly willing he went with him. Now, at what rate soever they rode to Rome, the fame of their coming came thither before them; so that no sooner had they entered their Inne, but Officers asked for Mr Molle, took and carried him to the Inquisition-House, where he remained a prisoner whilest the Lord Ross was daily feasted, favoured, entertained: so that some will not stick to say, That here he changed no Religion for a bad one.
No threats could persuade Mr Mole to renounce his heresy, and though many attempts were made to exchange him for some Jesuits caught in England, he lay for thirty years in the prison of the Inquisition, and died there, at the age of eighty-one. It was part of the policy of the Jesuits, according to Sir Henry Wotton, to thus separate their tutors from young men, and then ply the pupils with attentions and flattery, with a view to persuading them into the Church of Rome.
Not long after the capture of Mole, Wotton writes to Salisbury of another case of the same sort. And doubtlessly as we collect now upon the matter if Sir John Harington [] had either gone the Roman Journey, or taken the ordinary way in his remove thitherwards out of Tuscany, the like would have befallen his director also, a gentleman of singular sufficiency; [] for it appeareth a new piece of council infused into the Pope by his artisans the Jesuits to separate by some device their guides from our young noblemen about whom they are busiest and afterwards to use themselves for aught I can yet hear with much kindness and security, but yet with restraint when they come to Rome of departing thence without leave; which form was held both with the Lords Rosse and St Jhons, and with this Lord Wentworthe and his brother-in-law at their being there.
And we have at the present also a like example or two in Barons of the Almaign nation of our religion, whose governors are imprisoned, at Rome and Ferrara; so as the matter seemeth to pass into a rule. And albeit thitherto those before named of our own be escaped out of that Babylon as far as I can penetrate without any bad impressions, yet surely it appeareth very dangerous to leave our travellers in this contingency; especially being dispersed in the middle towns of Italy whither the language doth most draw them certain nimble pleasant wits in quality of interceptors, who deliver over to their correspondents at Rome the dispositions of gentlemen before they arrive, and so subject them both to attraction by argument, and attraction by humour.
Wotton did not overrate the persuasiveness of the Jesuits. Lord Roos became a papist. Wotton’s own nephew, Pickering, had been converted in Spain, on his death-bed, although he had been, according to the Jesuit records, “most tenacious of the corrupt religion which from his tender youth he had imbibed.
Another conversion of the same sort had been made by Father Walpole at Valladolid, the year before. Sir Thomas Palmer came to Spain both for the purpose of learning the language and seeing the country. Therefore, perceiving himself to be in danger of death, he set to work to reconcile himself with the Catholic Church. Having received all the last Sacraments he died, and was honourably interred with Catholic rites, to the great amazement also of the English Protestants, who in great numbers were in the city, and attended the funeral.
There is nothing surprising in these death-bed conversions, when we think of the pressure brought to bear on a traveller in a strange land. As soon as he fell sick, the host of his inn sent for a priest, and if the invalid refused to see a ghostly comforter that fact discovered his Protestantism. Whereupon the physician and apothecary, the very kitchen servants, were forbidden by the priest to help him, unless he renounced his odious Reformed Religion and accepted Confession, the Sacrament, and Extreme Unction.
If he died without these his body was not allowed in consecrated ground, but was buried in the highway like a very dog. It is no wonder if sometimes there was a conversion of an Englishman, lonely and dying, with no one to cling to. We must remember, also, how many reputed Protestants had only outwardly conformed to the Church of England for worldly reasons.
They could not enter any profession or hold any public office unless they did. But their hearts were still in the old faith, and they counted on returning to it at the very end. In the hour of death men turn to old affections. And so in several ways one can account for Sir Francis Cottington, Ambassador to Spain, who fell ill, confessed himself a Catholic; and when he recovered, once more became a Protestant. The mere force of environment, according to Sir Charles Cornwallis, Ambassador to Spain from , was enough to change the religion of impressionable spirits.
His reports to England show a constant struggle to keep his train of young gentlemen true to their national Church. The Spanish Court was then at Valladolid, in which city flourished an especially strong College of Jesuits.
Thence Walpole, and other dangerous persuaders, made sallies upon Cornwallis’s fold. At first the Ambassador was hopeful Two of myne own Followers I have found corrupted, the one in such sorte as he refused to come to Prayers, whom I presently discharged; the other being an honest and sober young Gentleman, and one that denieth not to be present both at Prayers and Preachinge, I continue still, having good hope that I shall in time reduce him.
But within a month he has to report the conversion of Sir Thomas Palmer, and within another month, the loss of even his own chaplain. In a week the chaplain wrote for a prolongation of his stay, making discourse of “a strange Tempest that came upon him in the way, of visible Fire that fell both before and behind him, of an Expectation of present Death, and of a Vowe he made in that time of Danger. The chaplain never came back. He had turned Romanist. The reasons for the headway of Catholicism in the reign of James I.
To explain the agitated mood of our Precepts for Travellers, it is necessary only to call attention to the fact that Protestantism was just then losing ground, through the devoted energy of the Jesuits.
Even in England, they were able to strike admiration into the mind of youth, and to turn its ardour to their own purposes. But in Spain and in Italy, backed by their impressive environment and surrounded by the visible power of the Roman Church, they were much more potent.
The English Jesuits in Rome–Oxford scholars, many of them–engaged the attentions of such of their university friends or their countrymen who came to see Italy, offering to show them the antiquities, to be guides and interpreters. How much the English Government feared the influence of the Jesuits upon young men abroad may be seen by the increasing strictness of licences for travellers.
The ordinary licence which everyone but a known merchant was obliged to obtain from a magistrate before he could leave England, in gave permission with the condition that the traveller “do not haunte or resorte unto the territories or dominions of any foreine prince or potentate not being with us in league or amitie, nor yet wittinglie kepe companie with any parson or parsons evell affected to our State.
Lord Zouche grumbled exceedingly at the limitations of his licence. This restraint is truly as an imprisonment, for I know not how to carry myself; I know not whether I may pass upon the Lords of Venis, and the Duke of Florens’ territories, because I know not if they have league with her Majesty or no.
To come to our Instructions for Travellers, as given in the reign of James I. Sir Robert Dallington, in his Method for Travell , [] gives first place to the question of remaining steadfast in one’s religion:. And it is to be feared, that he which is of one religion in his youth, and of another in his manhood, will in his age be of neither Now what should one say of such men but as the Philosopher saith of a friend, ‘Amicus omnium, Amicus nullorum,’ A professor of both, a believer in neither.
To this effect I must precisely forbid him the fellowship or companie of one sort of people in generall: these are the Jesuites, underminders and inveiglers of greene wits, seducers of men in matter of faith, and subverters of men in matters of State, making of both a bad christian, and worse subject. These men I would have my Travueller never heare, except in the Pulpit; for [] being eloquent, they speake excellent language; and being wise, and therefore best knowing how to speake to best purpose, they seldome or never handle matter of controversie.
Our best authority in this period of travelling is Fynes Moryson, whose Precepts for Travellers [] are particularly full. Moryson is well known as one of the most experienced travellers of the late Elizabethan era. On a travelling Fellowship from Peterhouse College, Cambridge, in he made a tour of Europe, when the Continent was bristling with dangers for Englishmen. Spain and the Inquisition infected Italy and the Low Countries; France was full of desperate marauding soldiers; Germany nourished robbers and free-booters in every forest.
It was the particular delight of Fynes Moryson to run into all these dangers and then devise means of escaping them. He never swerved from seeing whatever his curiosity prompted him to, no matter how forbidden and perilous was the venture. Disguised as a German he successfully viewed the inside of a Spanish fort; [] in the character of a Frenchman he entered the jaws of the Jesuit College at Rome.
For instance, when he was plucked bare by the French soldiers of even his inner doublet, in which he had quilted his money, he was by no means left penniless, for he had concealed some gold crowns in a box of “stinking ointment” which the soldiers threw down in disgust. His Precepts for Travellers are characteristically canny. Never tell anyone you can swim, he advises, because in case of shipwreck “others trusting therein take hold of you, and make you perish with them. We are not all like Amadis or Rinalldo, to incounter an hoste of men.
And to the end he may leave nothing behind him in his Innes, let the visiting of his chamber, and gathering his things together, be the last thing he doth, before hee put his foote into the stirrup. The whole of the Precepts is marked by this extensive caution.
Since, as Moryson truly remarks, travellers meet with more dangers than pleasures, it is better to travel alone than with a friend. And surely there happening many dangers and crosses by the way, many are of such intemperate affections, as they not only diminish the comfort they should have from this consort, but even as Dogs, hurt by a stone, bite him that is next, not him that cast the stone, so they may perhaps out of these crosses grow to bitterness of words betweene themselves.
Lest the traveller should become too well known to them, let him always declare that he is going no further than the next city. Arrived there, he may give them the slip and start with fresh consorts. Moryson himself, when forced to travel in company, chose Germans, kindly honest gentlemen, of his own religion. He could speak German well enough to pass as one of them, but in fear lest even a syllable might betray his nationality to the sharp spies at the city gates, he made an agreement with his companions that when he was forced to answer questions they should interrupt him as soon as possible, and take the words out of his mouth, as though in rudeness.
If he were discovered they were to say they knew him not, and flee away. Moryson advised the traveller to see Rome and Naples first, because those cities were the most dangerous. Men who stay in Padua some months, and afterwards try Rome, may be sure that the Jesuits and priests there are informed, not only of their coming, but of their condition and appearance by spies in Padua. It were advisable to change one’s dwelling-place often, so to avoid the inquiries of priests.
At Easter, in Rome, Moryson found the fullest scope for his genius. A few days before Easter a priest came to his lodgings and took the inmates’ names in writing, to the end that they might receive the Sacrament with the host’s family.
Moryson went from Rome on the Tuesday before Easter, came to Siena on Good Friday, and upon Easter eve ” pretending great business ” darted to Florence for the day. On Monday morning he dodged to Pisa, and on the folowing, back to Siena. Users can still manually connect to any network. This was previously the Enabled state for this policy setting. If this policy setting is set to 2, the behavior is similar to 1. However, if a cellular data connection is available, it will always stay connected for services that require a cellular connection.
When the user is connected to a WLAN or Ethernet connection, no internet traffic will be routed over the cellular connection. This option was first available in Windows 10 Version If this policy setting is set to 3, the behavior is similar to 2.
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