THE HIGH PURPOSE OF THE ELIZABETHAN TRAVELLER
The love of travel, we all know, flourished exceedingly in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. All classes felt the desire to go beyond seas upon
"Such wind as scatters young men through the world,
To seeke their fortunes farther than at home,
Where small experience growes."[36]
The explorer and the poet, the adventurer, the prodigal and the earl's
son, longed alike for foreign shores. What Ben Jonson said of Coryat
might be stretched to describe the average Elizabethan: "The mere
superscription of a letter from Zurich sets him up like a top: Basil or
Heidelberg makes him spinne. And at seeing the word Frankford, or
Venice, though but in the title of a Booke, he is readie to breake
doublet, cracke elbowes, and overflowe the roome with his murmure."[37]
Happy was an obscure gentleman like Fynes Moryson, who could roam for
ten years through the "twelve Dominions of Germany, Bohmerland,
Sweitzerand, Netherland, Denmarke, Poland, Italy, Turkey, France,
England, Scotland and Ireland" and not be peremptorily called home by
his sovereign. Sad it was to be a court favourite like Fulke Greville,
who four times, thirsting for strange lands, was plucked back to England
by Elizabeth.
At about the time (1575) 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. At least, there grew up a demand for
advice to young men which became a feature of Elizabethan literature,
printed and unprinted. It was the convention for a young man about to
travel to apply to some experienced or elderly friend, and for that
friend to disburden a torrent of maxims after the manner of Polonius.
John Florio, who knew the humours of his day, represents this in a
dialogue in _Second Frutes_.[38] So does Robert Greene in _Greene's
Mourning Garment_.[39] What were at first the personal warnings of a
wise man to his young friend, such as Cecil's letter to Rutland, grew
into a generalized oration for the use of any traveller. Hence arose
manuals of instruction--marvellous little books, full of incitements to
travel as the duty of man, summaries of the leading characteristics of
foreigners, directions for the care of sore feet--and a strange medley
of matters.
Among the first essays of this sort are translations from Germanic
writers, with whom, if Turler is right, the book of precepts for travel
originated. For the Germans, with the English, were the most
indefatigable travellers of all nations. Like the English, they suddenly
woke up with a start to the idea that they were barbarians on the
outskirts of civilization, and like Chicago of the present day, sent
their young men "hustling for culture." They took up assiduously not
only the Renaissance ideal of travel as a highly educating experience,
by which one was made a complete man intellectually, but also the
Renaissance conviction that travel was a duty to the State. Since both
Germany and England were somewhat removed from the older and more
civilized nations, it was necessary for them to make an effort to learn
what was going on at the centre of the world. It was therefore the duty
of gentlemen, especially of noblemen, to whom the State would look to be
directed, to search out the marts of learning, frequent foreign courts,
and by knowing men and languages be able to advise their prince at home,
after the manner set forth in _Il Cortegiano_. 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. A
sound knowledge of these things had to be obtained by first-hand
observation. From this fact arose the importance of improving one's
opportunities, and the necessity for methodical, thorough inquiry, which
we shall find so insisted upon in these manuals of advice.
Hieronymus Turlerus claims that his _De Peregrinatione_ (Argentorati,
1574) is the first book to be devoted to precepts of travel. It was
translated into English and published in London in 1575, under the title
of _The Traveiler of Jerome Turler_, and is, as far as I know, the first
book of the sort in England. Not much is known of Turler, save that he
was born at Leissnig, in Saxony, in 1550, studied at Padua, became a
Doctor of Law, made such extensive travels that he included even
England--a rare thing in those days--and after serving as Burgomaster in
his native place, died in 1602. His writings, other than _De
Peregrinatione_, are three translations from Machiavelli.[40]
Turler addresses to two young German noblemen his book "written on
behalf of such as are desirous to travell, and to see foreine cuntries,
and specially of students.... Mee thinkes they do a good deede, and well
deserve of al men, that give precepts for traveyl. Which thing,
althoughe I perceive that some have done, yet have they done it here and
there in sundrie Bookes and not in any one certeine place." A discussion
of the advantages of travel had appeared in Thomas Wilson's _Arte of
Rhetorique_ (1553),[41] and certain practical directions for avoiding
ailments to which travellers were susceptible had been printed in Basel
in 1561,[42] but Turler's would seem to be the first book devoted to the
praise of peregrination. Not only does Turler say so himself, but
Theodor Zwinger, who three years later wrote _Methodus Apodemica_,
declares that Turler and Pyrckmair were his only predecessors in this
sort of composition.[43]
Pyrckmair was apparently one of those governors, or Hofmeister,[44] who
accompanied young German noblemen on their tours through Europe. He drew
up a few directions, he declares, as guidance for himself and the Count
von Sultz, whom he expected shortly to guide into Italy. He had made a
previous journey to Rome, which he enjoyed with the twofold enthusiasm
of the humanist and the Roman Catholic, beholding "in a stupor of
admiration" the magnificent remnants of classic civilization and the
institutions of a benevolent Pope.[45]
From Plantin's shop in Antwerp came in 1587 a narrative by another
Hofmeister--Stephen Vinandus Pighius--concerning the life and travels of
his princely charge, Charles Frederick, Duke of Cleves, who on his grand
tour died in Rome. Pighius discusses at considerable length,[46] in
describing the hesitancy of the Duke's guardians about sending him on a
tour, the advantages and disadvantages of travel. The expense of it and
the diseases you catch, were great deterrents; yet the widening of the
mind which judicious travelling insures, so greatly outweighed these and
other disadvantages, that it was arranged after much discussion, "not
only in the Council but also in the market-place and at the
dinner-table," to send young Charles for two years to Austria to the
court of his uncle the Emperor Maximilian, and then to Italy, France,
and Lower Germany to visit the princess, his relations, and friends, and
to see life.
Theodor Zwinger, who was reputed to be the first to reduce the art of
travel into a form and give it the appearance of a science,[47] died a
Doctor of Medicine at Basel. He had no liking for his father's trade of
furrier, but apprenticed himself for three years to a printer at Lyons.
Somehow he managed to learn some philosophy from Peter Ramus at Paris,
and then studied medicine at Padua, where he met Jerome Turler.[48] As
Doctor of Philosophy and Medicine he occupied several successive
professorships at Basel.
Even more distinguished in the academic world was the next to carry on
the discussion of travel--Justus Lipsius. 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 1592.[50] Stradling,
however, has so enlarged the original by whatever fancies of his own
occurred to him, that it is almost a new composition. Philip Jones took
no such liberties with the "Method" of Albert Meier, which he translated
two years after it was published in 1587.[51] In his dedication to Sir
Francis Drake of "this small but sweete booke of Method for men
intending their profit and honor by the experience of the world," Jones
declares that he first meant it only to benefit himself, "when pleasure
of God, convenient time and good company" should draw him to travel.
The _Pervigilium Mercurii_ of Georgius Loysius, a friend of Scaliger,
was never translated into English, but the important virtues of a
traveller therein described had their influence on English readers.
Loysius compiled two hundred short petty maxims, illustrated by apt
classical quotations, bearing on the correct behaviour and duties of a
traveller. For instance, he must avoid luxury, as says Seneca; and
laziness, as say Horace and Ovid; he must be reticent about his wealth
and learning and keep his counsel, like Ulysses. He must observe the
morals and religion of others, but not criticise them, for different
nations have different religions, and think that their fathers' gods
ought to be served diligently. He that disregards these things acts with
pious zeal but without consideration for other people's feelings ("nulla
ratione cujusque vocationis").[52] James Howell may have read maxim 99
on how to take jokes and how to make them, "joci sine vilitate, risus
sine cachinno, vox sine clamore" (let your jokes be free from vulgarity,
your laugh not a guffaw, and your voice not a roar).
Loysius reflects the sentiment of his country in his conviction that
"Nature herself desires that women should stay at home." "It is true
throughout the whole of Germany that no woman unless she is desperately
poor or 'rather fast' desires to travel."[53]
Adding to these earliest essays the _Oration in Praise of Travel_, by
Hermann Kirchner,[54] we have a group of instructions sprung from German
soil all characterized by an exalted mood and soaring style. They have
in common the tendency to rationalize the activities of man, which was
so marked a feature of the Renaissance. The simple errant impulse that
Chaucer noted as belonging with the songs of birds and coming of spring,
is dignified into a philosophy of travel.
Travel, according to our authors, is one of the best ways to gain
personal force, social effectiveness--in short, that mysterious "virtù"
by which the Renaissance set such great store. It had the negative value
of providing artificial trials for young gentlemen with patrimony and no
occupation who might otherwise be living idly on their country estates,
or dissolutely in London. Knight-errantry, in chivalric society, had
provided the hardships and discipline agreeable to youth; travel "for
vertues sake, to apply the study of good artes,"[55] was in the
Renaissance an excellent way to keep a young man profitably busy. For
besides the academic advantages of foreign universities, travel
corrected the character. The rude and arrogant young nobleman who had
never before left his own country, met salutary opposition and contempt
from strangers, and thereby gained modesty. By observing the refinements
of the older nations, his uncouthness was softened: the rough barbarian
cub was gradually mollified into the civil courtier. And as for giving
one prudence and patience, never was such a mentor as travel. The
tender, the effeminate, the cowardly, were hardened by contention with
unwonted cold or rain or sun, with hard seats, stony pillows, thieves,
and highwaymen. Any simple, improvident, and foolish youth would be
stirred up to vigilancy by a few experiences with "the subtelty of
spies, the wonderful cunning of Inn-keepers and baudes and the great
danger of his life."[56] In short, the perils and discomforts of travel
made a mild prelude to the real life into which a young man must
presently fight his way. Only experience could teach him how to be
cunning, wary, and bold; how he might hold his own, at court or at sea,
among Elizabeth's adventurers.
However, this development of the individual was only part of the benefit
of travel. Far more to be extolled was his increased usefulness to the
State. That was the stoutest reason for leaving one's "owne sweete
country dwellings" to endure hardships and dangers beyond seas. For a
traveller may be of the greatest benefit to his own country by being
able to compare its social, economic, and military arrangements with
those of other commonwealths. He is wisely warned, therefore, against
that fond preference for his own country which leads him to close his
eyes to any improvement--"without just cause preferring his native
country,"[57] but to use choice and discretion, to see, learn, and
diligently mark what in every place is worthy of praise and what ought
to be amended, in magistrates, regal courts, schools, churches,
armies--all the ways and means pertaining to civil life and the
governing of a humane society. For all improvement in society, say our
authors, came by travellers bringing home fresh ideas. Examples from the
ancients, to complete a Renaissance argument, are cited to prove
this.[58] So the Romans sent their children to Marseilles, so Cyrus
travelled, though yet but a child, so Plato "purchased the greatest part
of his divine wisdome from the very innermost closets of Egypt."
Therefore to learn how to serve one's Prince in peace or war, as a
soldier, ambassador, or "politicke person," one must, like Ulysses, have
known many men and seen many cities; know not only the objective points
of foreign countries, such as the fortifications, the fordable rivers,
the distances between places, but the more subjective characteristics,
such as the "chief force and virtue of the Spanyardes and of the
Frenchmen. What is the greatest vice in both nacions? After what manner
the subjects in both countries shewe their obedience to their prince, or
oppose themselves against him?"[59] Here we see coming into play the
newly acquired knowledge of human nature of which the sixteenth century
was so proud. An ambassador to Paris must know what was especially
pleasing to a Frenchman. Even a captain in war must know the special
virtues and vices of the enemy: which nation is ablest to make a sudden
sally, which is stouter to entertain the shock in open field, which is
subtlest of the contriving of an ambush.
Evidently, since there is so varied a need for acquaintance with foreign
countries, travel is a positive duty. Noah, Aristotle, Solomon, Julius
Cæsar, Columbus, and many other people of authority are quoted to prove
that "all that ever were of any great knowledge, learning or wisdom
since the beginning of the world unto this present, have given
themselves to travel: and that there never was man that performed any
great thing or achieved any notable exploit, unless he had
travelled."[60]
This summary, of course, cannot reproduce the style of each of our
authors, and only roughly indicates their method of persuasion.
Especially it cannot represent the mode of Zwinger, whose contribution
is a treatise of four hundred pages, arranged in outline form, by means
of which any single idea is made to wend its tortuous way through
folios. Every aspect of the subject is divided and subdivided with
meticulous care. He cannot speak of the time for travel without
discriminating between natural time, such as years and days, and
artificial time, such as festivals and holidays; nor of the means of
locomotion without specifying the possibility of being carried through
the air by: (I) Mechanical means, such as the wings of Icarus; or (2)
Angels, as the Apostle Philip was snatched from Samaria.[61] In this
elaborate method he found an imitator in Sir Thomas Palmer.[62] The
following, a mere truncated fragment, may serve to illustrate both
books:--
"Travelling is either:--
I. Irregular.
II. Regular. Of Regular Travailers some be
A. Non-voluntaries, sent out by the prince,
and employed in matters of
1. Peace (etc.).
2. Warre (etc.).
B. Voluntaries. Voluntary Regular Travailers
are considered
1. As they are moved accidentally.
a. Principally, that afterwards they
may leade a more quiet and contented
life, to the glory of God.
b. Secondarily, regarding ends,
(i) Publicke.
(a) What persons are inhibited
travaile.
(1) Infants, Decrepite persons,
Fools, Women.
(b) What times to travaile in
are not fitte:
(2) When our country is
engaged in warres.
(c) Fitte.
(1) When one may reape
most profit in shortest
time, for that hee aimeth
at.
(2) When the country, into
which we would travaile,
holdeth not ours in jealousie,
etc."
That the idea of travel as a duty to the State had permeated the
Elizabethans from the courtier to the common sailor is borne out by
contemporary letters of all sorts. Even William Bourne, an innkeeper at
Gravesend, who wrote a hand-book of applied mathematics, called it _The
Treasure for Travellers_[63] and prefaced it with an exhortation in the
style of Turler. In the correspondence of Lord Burghley, Sir Philip
Sidney, Fulke Greville, the Earl of Essex, and Secretary Davison, we see
how seriously the aim of travel was inculcated. Here are the same
reminders to have the welfare of the commonwealth constantly in mind, to
waste no time, to use order and method in observation, and to bring
home, if possible, valuable information. Sidney bewails how much he has
missed for "want of having directed my course to the right end, and by
the right means." But he trusts his brother has imprinted on his mind
"the scope and mark you mean by your pains to shoot at. Your purpose is,
being a gentleman born, to furnish yourself with the knowledge of such
things as may be serviceable to your country."[64]
Davison urges the value of experience, scorning the man who thinks to
fit himself by books: "Our sedentary traveller may pass for a wise man
as long as he converseth either with dead men by reading, or by writing,
with men absent. But let him once enter on the stage of public
employment, and he will soon find, if he can but be sensible of
contempt, that he is unfit for action. For ability to treat with men of
several humours, factions and countries; duly to comply with them, or
stand off, as occasion shall require, is not gotten only by reading of
books, but rather by studying of men: yet this is ever held true. The
best scholar is fittest for a traveller, as being able to make the most
useful observations: experience added to learning makes a perfect
man."[65]
Both Essex and Fulke Greville are full of warnings against superficial
and showy knowledge of foreign countries: "The true end of knowledge is
clearness and strength of judgment, and not ostentation, or ability to
discourse, which I do rather put your Lordship in mind of, because the
most part of noblemen and gentlemen of our time have no other use nor
end of their learning but their table-talk. But God knoweth they have
gotten little that have only this discoursing gift: for, though like
empty vessels they sound loud when a man knocks upon their outsides, yet
if you pierce into them, you shall find that they are full of nothing
but wind."[66]
Lord Burghley, wasting not a breath, tersely instructs the Earl of
Rutland in things worthy of observation. Among these are frontier towns,
with what size garrison they are maintained, etc.; what noblemen live in
each province, by what trade each city is supported. At Court, what are
the natural dispositions of the king and his brothers and sisters, what
is the king's diet, etc. "Particularly for yourself, being a nobleman,
how noblemen do keep their wives, their children, their estates; how
they provide for their younger children; how they keep the household for
diet," and so on.[67]
So much for the attitude of the first "Subsidium Peregrinantibus." It
will be seen that it was something of a trial and an opportunity to be a
traveller in Elizabethan times. But biography is not lacking in evidence
that the recipients of these directions did take their travels seriously
and try to make them profitable to the commonwealth. Among the Rutland
papers[68] is a plan of fortifications and some notes made by the Edward
Manners to whom Cecil wrote the above letter of advice. Sir Thomas
Bodley tells how full he was of patriotic intent: "I waxed desirous to
travel beyond the seas, for attaining to the knowledge of some special
modern tongues, and for the increase of my experience in the managing of
affairs, being wholly then addicted to employ myself, and all my cares,
in the public service of the state."[69] Assurances of their object in
travelling are written from abroad by Sir John Harington and the third
Earl of Essex to their friend Prince Henry. Essex says: "Being now
entered into my travels, and intending the end thereof to attain to true
knowledge and to better my experience, I hope God will so bless me in my
endeavours, that I shall return an acceptable servant unto your
Highness."[70] And Harington in the same vein hopes that by his travels
and experience in foreign countries he shall sometime or other be more
fit to carry out the commands of his Highness.[71]
One of the particular ways of serving one's country was the writing of
"Observations on his Travels." This was the first exercise of a young
man who aspired to be a "politicke person." Harington promises to send
to Prince Henry whatever notes he can make of various countries. Henry
Wotton offers Lord Zouche "A View of all the present Almagne
princes."[72] The keeping of a journal is insisted upon in almost all
the "Directions." "It is good," says Lord Burghley to Edward Manners,
"that you make a booke of paper wherein you may dayly or at least weekly
insert all things occurent to you,"[73] the reason being that such
observations, when contemporary history was scarce, were of value. They
were also a guarantee that the tourist had been virtuously employed. The
Earl of Salisbury writes severely to his son abroad:
"I find every week, in the Prince's hand, a letter from Sir John
Harington, full of the news of the place where he is, and the countries
as he passeth, and all occurents: which is an argument, that he doth
read and observe such things as are remarkable."
This narrative was one of the chief burdens of a traveller. Gilbert
Talbot is no sooner landed in Padua than he must write to his impatient
parents and excuse himself for the lack of that "Relation." "We fulfil
your honour's commaundement in wrytynge the discourse of our travayle
which we would have sent with thes letres but it could not be caryed so
conveniently with them, as it may be with the next letres we wryte."[74]
Francis Davison, the Secretary's son, could not get on, somehow, with
his "Relation of Tuscany." He had been ill, he writes at first; his
tutor says that the diet of Italy--"roots, salads, cheese and such like
cheap dishes"--"Mr Francis can in no wise digest," and after that, he is
too worried by poverty. In reply to his father's complaints of his
extravagance, he declares: "My promised relation of Tuscany your last
letter hath so dashed, as I am resolved not to proceed withal."[75] The
journal of Richard Smith, Gentleman, who accompanied Sir Edward Unton
into Italy in 1563, shows how even an ordinary man, not inclined to
writing, conscientiously tried to note the fortifications and fertility
of each province, whether it was "marvellous barren" or "stood chiefly
upon vines"; the principal commodities, and the nature of the
inhabitants: "The people (on the Rhine) are very paynefull and not so
paynefull as rude and sluttyshe." "They are well faced women in most
places of this land, and as ill-bodied."[76]
Besides writing his observations, the traveller laboured earnestly at
modern languages. Many and severe were the letters Cecil wrote to his
son Thomas in Paris on the subject of settling to his French. 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.[77] Francis
Davison hints that his tour was by no means a pleasure trip, what with
studying Italian, reading history and policy, observing and writing his
"Relation." Indeed, as Lipsius pointed out, it was not easy to combine
the life of a traveller with that of a scholar, "the one being of
necessitie in continual motion, care and business, the other naturally
affecting ease, safety and quietness,"[78] but still, by avoiding
Englishmen, according to our "Directions," and by doggedly conversing
with the natives, one might achieve something.
To live in the household of a learned foreigner, as Robert Sidney did
with Sturm, or Henry Wotton with Hugo Blotz, was of course especially
desirable. For there were still, in the Elizabethans, remnants of that
ardent sociability among humanists which made Englishmen traverse dire
distances of sea and land to talk with some scholar on the Rhine--that
fraternizing spirit which made Cranmer fill Lambeth Palace with Martin
Bucers; and Bishop Gardiner, meanwhile, complain from the Tower not only
of "want of books to relieve my mind, but want of good company--the only
solace in this world."[79] It was still as much of a treat to see a wise
man as it was when Ascham loitered in every city through which he
passed, to hear lectures, or argue about the proper pronunciation of
Greek; until he missed his dinner, or found that his party had ridden
out of town.[80] Advice to travellers is full of this enthusiasm. Essex
tells Rutland "your Lordship should rather go an hundred miles to speake
with one wise man, than five miles to see a fair town." Stradling,
translating Lipsius, urges the Earl of Bedford to "shame not or disdaine
not to intrude yourself into their familiarity." "Talk with learned men,
we unconsciously imitate them, even as they that walke in the sun only
for their recreation, are colored therewith and sunburnt; or rather and
better as they that staying a while in the Apothecarie shop, til their
confections be made, carrie away the smell of the sweet spices even in
their garments."[81]
There are signs that the learned men were not always willing to shine
upon admiring strangers who burst in upon them. The renowned Doctor
Zacharias Ursinus at Heidelberg marked on his doorway these words: "My
friend, whoever you are, if you come here, please either go away again,
or give me some help in my studies."[82] Sidney foresees the difficulty
his brother may have: "How shall I get excellent men to take paines to
speake with me? Truly, in few words: either much expense or much
humbleness."[83]
If one had not the means to live with famous scholars, it was a good
plan to take up lodgings with an eminent bookseller. For statesmen,
advocates and other sorts of great men came to the shop, from whose talk
much could be learned. By and by some occasion would arise for
insinuating oneself into familarity and acquaintance with these
personages, and perhaps, if some one of them, "non indoctus," intended
journeying to another city, he might allow you to attach yourself to
him.[84]
Of course, for observation and experience, there was no place so
advantageous as the household of an ambassador, if one was fortunate
enough to win an entry there. The English Ambassador in France generally
had a burden of young gentlemen more or less under his care. Sometimes
they were lodged independently in Paris, but many belonged to his train,
and had meat and drink for themselves, their servants and their horses,
at the ambassador's expense.
Sir Amias Paulet's _Letter-Book_ of 1577-8 testifies that an
ambassador's cares were considerably augmented by writing reports to
parents. Mr Speake is assured that "although I dwell far from Paris, yet
I am not unacquainted with your sonne's doing in Paris, and cannot
commend him enough to you as well for his diligence in study as for his
honest and quiet behaviour, and I dare assure you that you may be bold
to trust him as well for the order of his expenses, as for his
government otherwise."[85] Mr Argall, whose brother could not be taken
into Paulet's house, has to be soothed as well as may be by a
letter.[86] Mr Throckmorton, after questionable behaviour, is sent home
to his mother under excuse of being bearer of a letter to England. "His
mother prayeth that his coming over may seeme to proceed of his owne
request, because the Queen shall not be offended with it." His mother
"hath promised to gett him lycence to travil into Italie." But, says
Paulet, "He may not goe into Italie withoute the companie of some honest
and wyse man, and so I have tould him, and in manie other things have
dealt very playnely with him."[87]
Among these troublesome charges of Paulet's was Francis Bacon. But to
his father, the Lord Keeper, Paulet writes only that all is well, and
that his son's servant is particularly honest, diligent, discreet and
faithful, and that Paulet is thankful for his "good and quiet behaviour
in my house"--a fact which appears exceptional.
Sir Dudley Carleton, as Ambassador to Venice, was also pursued by
ambitious fathers.[88] Sir Rowland Lytton Chamberlain writes to
Carleton, begs only "that his son might be in your house, and that you
would a little train him and fashion him to business. For I perceive he
means to make him a statesman, and is very well persuaded of him, ...
like a very indulgent father.... If you can do it conveniently, it will
be a favour; but I know what a business it is to have the breaking of
such colts, and therefore will urge no more than may be to your
liking."[89]
Besides gaining an apprenticeship in diplomacy, another advantage of
travelling with an ambassador was the participation in ambassadorial
immunities. It might have fared ill with Sir Philip Sidney, in Paris at
the time of the massacre of Saint Bartholomew, if he had not belonged to
the household of Sir Francis Walsingham. Many other young men not so
glorious to posterity, but quite as much so to their mothers, were saved
then by the same means. When news of the massacre had reached England,
Sir Thomas Smith wrote to Walsingham: "I am glad yet that in these
tumults and bloody proscriptions you did escape, and the young gentlemen
that be there with you.... Yet we hear say that he that was sent by my
Lord Chamberlain to be schoolmaster to young Wharton, being come the day
before, was then slain. Alas! he was acquainted with nobody, nor could
be partaker of any evil dealing. 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."[90]
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. "If we had come by
daye as we did by night, we had bin all taken slaves."[91] In dark
strait ways up the sides of mountains, or on some great heath in
Prussia, one was likely to meet a horseman "well furnyshed with daggs
(pistols), who myght well be called a Swarte Ritter--his face was as
black as a devill in a playe."[92] Inns were death-traps. A man dared
not make any display of money for fear of being murdered in the
night.[93] It was wiser to disguise himself as a humble country boy and
gall his feet by carrying all his gold in his boots. Even if by these
means he escaped common desperadoes, he might easily offend the deadly
University students, as did the eldest son of Sir Julius Cæsar, slain in
a brawl in Padua,[94] or like the Admirable Crichton, stabbed by his
noble pupil in a dark street, bleed away his life in lonely
lodgings.[95] Still more dangerous were less romantic ills, resulting
from strange diet and the uncleanliness of inns. 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.[96] At German ordinaries "every travyler must syt at the
ordinary table both master and servant," so that often they were driven
to sit with such "slaves" that in the rush to get the best pieces from
the common dish in the middle of the table, "a man wold abhor to se such
fylthye hands in his dish."[97] Many an eager tourist lay down with
small-pox before he had seen anything of the world worth mentioning, or
if he gained home, brought a broken constitution with him. The third
Lord North was ill for life because of the immoderate quantities of hot
treacle he consumed in Italy, to avoid the plague.[98]
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."[99] It was the
sort of danger that weakened character which made people doubt the
benefits of travel. 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." Since
they were written at the same time with the glowing orations in praise
of travel, it might be well to consider them before we go farther.
* * * * *