This essay was written between 1908 and 1910 while I was studying at Oxford as a Fellow of the Society of American Women in London. There's seemingly endless material on the topic of travel in any century, and you could write numerous books on it without repeating sources. The following aims to do no more than describe one aspect of Renaissance travel in a clear and concise manner, with enough examples to enhance but not overwhelm the main ideas.

In putting this book together, I have many people to thank. I want to express my gratitude to the staff at the Bodleian, especially Mr. W.H.B. Somerset, for their kindness during the two years I spent working in the library at Oxford University. I also appreciate Dr. Perlbach, head of the Königliche Bibliothek in Berlin, for sending me valuable information about early German travel instruction books, and Professor Clark S. Northup from Cornell University for his similar support. I'm thankful to Mr. George Whale for allowing me to use his transcript of Sloane MS. 1813, and to my friend Miss M.E. Marshall from the Board of Trade for generously spending her free time reading for me in the British Museum after the sea separated me from that treasure trove of information.

I want to thank Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Sidney Lee for their helpful advice; many students, including myself, really appreciate their generous time and knowledge. Mr. L. Pearsall Smith, whose work on the Life and Letters of Sir Henry Wotton I relied on extensively, also provided me with courteous personal help.

To the Faculty of the English Department at Columbia University, I am grateful to those who sparked my early interest in scholarship through their teachings. I owe a lot to Professor A.H. Thorndike and Professor G.P. Krapp for their corrections and suggestions on the proof-sheets of this book, and to Professor W.P. Trent for his ongoing help and support throughout my studies at Columbia and beyond.

Above all, I want to highlight the support of Professor C.H. Firth from Oxford University, whose understanding and empathy for the challenges faced by newcomers in his esteemed field can only be appreciated by those, like me, who arrive at Oxford with hopes and alone. I wish this essay could better reflect his influence.

CLARE HOWARD

Barnard College, NYC

October 1913

Among the many educational books that flooded England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were some essays on travel. Some of these have never been discovered since their publication over three hundred years ago, nor have they been mentioned by the few writers who have shown interest in this subject's literature. In the often-collected voyages and explorations, they’ve been left out. Most of them are quite rare and have never been reprinted. Still, they shouldn’t be ignored, and this overview will, I believe, be helpful for literature students in several ways.

They highlight a common practice among gentlemen in the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras of finishing their education through travel. There are various references to this custom in contemporary social documents: Anthony à Wood often mentions how an Oxonian "traveled overseas and returned a well-rounded person,"—but nowhere is this concept of a global education laid out as clearly as in these essays. Aimed at the prospective traveler, they shouldn't be mistaken for guidebooks or itineraries. They are explorations of the advantages of travel, with advice and warnings intended to prepare the traveler for the important journey of personal growth. When taken in chronological order, they outline the life of a traveling student.

Starting at the end of the sixteenth century, when travel became popular as the main way to learn modern languages and contemporary history, along with the physical skills and social graces that helped young men succeed at Court, they outline its development up until it lost its significant purpose. This marked the time when modern history and modern languages started to be taught at English universities, and when the fall of the Stuarts led to the Court no longer being the deciding factor in people's fortunes. Throughout this development, they highlight various aspects of continental influence in England; how Italian immorality affected young minds, how the Jesuits attracted travelers to their faith, how France became the standard for etiquette, and the origins of the Grand Tour, among other things.

That these travel directions weren't just quirky pieces of literature but reflected a common ideal among the English gentry is something I've aimed to demonstrate in this study. The essays can hardly be understood without context from biography and history, which is why I've included some specific examples of the type of traveler the books were meant for. If I haven't always quoted the "Instructions" in full, it's because they overlap on some points. My approach has been to focus on what was new in each book or what indicated the development of travel for the sake of learning.

The outcome, I hope, will help illustrate the cosmopolitan nature of English society in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; the closer ties between England and the Continent, during a time when England wasn't yet powerful and self-sufficient; when soldiers from all ranks went to seek their fortunes in the Low Countries, and merchants traveled in person to do business in Italy; when a steady flow of Roman Catholics and political exiles moved to France or Flanders for years on end.

These discussions about the art of travel are reminders of a time when Englishmen, second only to Germans, were known as some of the greatest travelers in the world. Alongside merchants, spies, exiles, and diplomats from England, young gentlemen fresh from university would set sail to expand their education by experiencing the most advanced countries in the world. They approached the Continent with curious, open minds, eager to learn and quick to adopt the customs and ideas of nations that were older than theirs. For the same reasons that today’s American students travel to England or Japanese students to America, English youths once traveled to France, comparing governments and social customs, observing everything, taking notes, and returning home to enrich their country with new ideas.

I also hope that revisiting these overlooked volumes will add extra enjoyment to reading the more significant works of Elizabethan literature. You can't fully appreciate Amorphus's absurd claim of being "so sublimated and refined by travel," and having "drunk in the spirit of beauty in some eighty-two princes' courts where I have lived,"^[1] without having read about the advantages of travel as detailed in the current Instructions for Travellers; nor can you fully grasp the exchanges between Sir Politick-Would-be and Peregrine in Volpone, or the Fox. Shakespeare, too, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, has taken the arguments from Elizabethan speeches that praise travel:

"Some go to war to seek their fortune;
Some to explore distant islands;
Some to the studious universities;
For any or all of these pursuits,
He said, you Proteus, your son is suited;
And he asked me to urge you
To let him spend no more time at home;
Which would be a great hindrance to his age,
If he has known no travels in his youth.
(Antonio) Nor do you need to urge me much on that
About which I have been thinking this month;
I have considered well his loss of time,
And how he cannot become a well-rounded man,
Without being tested and taught in the world;
Experience is gained through hard work,
And perfected by the swift passage of time."

                                                          (Act I. Sc. iii.)

CHAPTER I

THE BEGINNINGS OF TRAVEL FOR CULTURE

Pilgrimages at the end of the Middle Ages—New reasons for travel in the fifteenth century—Humanism—Diplomatic aspirations—Language learning.

CHAPTER II

THE HIGH PURPOSE OF THE ELIZABETHAN TRAVELER

Development of the individual—Benefit to the community—First books aimed at travelers.

CHAPTER III

SOME CYNICAL DOUBTS ABOUT THE BENEFITS OF TRAVEL

The Italian-style Englishman.

CHAPTER IV

Dangers for Protestant Travelers

The Inquisition—The Jesuits—Recusancy penalties.

CHAPTER V

THE INFLUENCE OF THE FRENCH ACADEMIES

France, the authority on etiquette in the seventeenth century—Riding the great horse—Attempts to set up academies in England—Why travelers overlooked Spain.

CHAPTER VI

The Grand Tour

Origin of the term - Chaperones for young travelers - Travel costs.

CHAPTER VII

THE DECADENCE OF THE GRAND TOUR

The decline of the courtier--Foundation of chairs of Modern History and Modern Languages at Oxford and Cambridge--English people become self-reliant--Travel books become popular--Rise of the Romantic traveler who journeys for the scenery.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX

FOOTNOTES

Of the many social influences shaped by the Renaissance, that "new learning that is spreading all over the world today," the desire to travel underwent a significant change. This ancient instinct to journey far away had, during the Middle Ages, gained acceptance, respect, and validation through the practice of pilgrimages. It’s questionable whether the number of genuinely devout people would have filled so many ships to Port Jaffa if they hadn’t been joined by the restless, the adventurous, and wanderers from all walks of life.

Towards the sixteenth century, as curiosity about human experiences grew stronger in England, pilgrimages became especially popular. In 1434, Henry VI granted licenses to 2,433 pilgrims for the shrine of St. James of Compostella alone.^[2] The numbers were so high that managing their transportation turned into a highly sought-after business opportunity. "Pilgrims at this time were really an item of export," says Sir Henry Ellis, commenting on a letter from the Earl of Oxford to Henry VI, requesting a license for a ship he owned to carry pilgrims. "Every year, ships were loaded from different ports with cargoes of these misguided travelers, who brought along large sums of money to cover their travel expenses."^[3]

Among the earliest books printed in England was Information for Pilgrims to the Holy Land, by Wynkin de Worde, which had three editions,^[4] and is almost a direct copy of William Wey's "provision" for a journey eastward.^[5] The tone and content of this Information are very similar to later Directions for Travelers that are the focus of our study. The advice given shows that the average pilgrim was not focused on the spiritual benefits of the journey or simply arriving safely at their holy destination, but rather on making the trip as comfortable and enjoyable as possible. He is advised to bring two barrels of wine ("For if you would pay twenty ducats for a barrel, you won’t find any after you pass much Venice"); to buy orange-ginger, almonds, rice, figs, cloves, mace, and loaf sugar to supplement the food provided by the ship. And this is despite the fact that he is to make the captain swear, before the pilgrim boards the ship, that he will serve "hot meals twice a day." The one we typically think of as a poor wanderer, with only his gray cloak and staff, is advised not to set off for the Holy Land without packing "a small cauldron, a frying pan, dishes, platters, glass cups ... a feather bed, a mattress, a pillow, two pairs of sheets, and a quilt" ... a cage for half a dozen hens or chickens to bring on the ship, and finally, half a bushel of "millet seeds" to feed the chickens. Far from being encouraged to adopt a humble and self-denying attitude during the voyage, he is advised to secure a spot in the middle of the ship and not hesitate to pay fifty ducats for a decent place, "to have your comfort in the galley and also to be well cared for." Even more un-Christian are the instructions to rush ahead of others upon landing, to get the best rooms at the inn and first choice of the provided dinner; and especially at Port Jaffa, to get the best donkey, "for you will pay no more for the best than for the worst."

But while this book was being published, new forces emerged that were set to strip away the thin disguise of piety from this kind of pilgrim. The Colloquies of Erasmus came out before the third edition of Informacon for Pylgrymes, and challenged the idea that visiting Jerusalem was the peak of piety. Erasmus claimed it was simply the desire for change that drove old bishops to travel vast distances over land and sea to reach Jerusalem. The noblemen who flocked there would be better off tending to their estates, and married men should look after their wives. Young men and women traveled "non sine gravi discrimine morum et integritatis." Pilgrimages were a distraction. Some people went again and again, doing nothing else for their entire lives.^[6] The only satisfaction they sought or received was entertainment for themselves and their friends from their remarkable adventures, and the ability to impress at dinner tables by sharing their travel stories.^[7] There was nothing wrong with going sometimes, but it wasn't genuinely pious. People could spend their time, money, and effort on something that was truly meaningful.^[8]

It was just a few years later that the student of Erasmus and his friends, King Henry the Eighth, shocked Europe not only by embracing new ideas but also by taking action on them. He got rid of the shrines, burned the Lady of Walsingham, and went after "the holy blissful martyr" Thomas à Becket for deceptive claims.^[9]

But a new purpose for travel was emerging, capturing the attention of the leading thinkers of the sixteenth century—the desire to learn firsthand about the best ideas and discussions happening worldwide. Humanism was the new force, the fresh avenue people were exploring during the time when "our natural, young, lively, and courageous prince and sovereign lord King Henry the Eighth entered into the prime of delightful youth."^[10] Just as the scientific or socialistic spirit can rejuvenate the enduring instincts of humanity, the Renaissance enthusiasm for personal growth and education breathed new life into the traditional path.

All throughout the fifteenth century, the universities of Italy, known for their secular studies since their inception, were gaining recognition for providing a broader education than the worn-out debates of the schoolmen. The rediscovery and revival of Greek literature in the fifteenth century deeply influenced Italian society and enhanced the universities' reputation, spreading their fame northward. Northern scholars, like Rudolf Agricola, rushed south to find a welcoming environment at the heart of intellectual life. Erasmus, a keen observer of everything, noted in 1500 to the Lady of Veer that professional humanists could not do without the prestige that an Italian degree conferred upon them.

"Two things, I think, are really important: one is that I go to Italy to get some credibility for my limited knowledge from the fame of the place; the other is that I earn the title of Doctor; both seem pointless, of course. People don’t instantly change their opinions just because they cross the ocean, as Horace said, nor will the weight of a prestigious title make me any more knowledgeable... but we have to wear the lion's skin to prove our worth to those who judge a person by their title and not by their books, which they actually don’t understand."^[11]

Although Erasmus hated the pursuit of degrees, it’s well known that he was drawn to the allure of Italy. He was tempted to stay in Rome forever because of the company he found there. "What a sky and fields, what libraries and pleasant walks and sweet conversations with the learned ..."^[12] he exclaims while reminiscing about that paradise of scholars. For example, there was Cardinal Grimani, who urged Erasmus to share his life ... and books.^[13] And there was Aldus Manutius. We get a glimpse of the Venetian printing house when Aldus and Erasmus worked together: Erasmus writing away, ignoring the noise of the printers, while Aldus eagerly reads the proof, admiring every word. "We were so busy," says Erasmus, "we barely had time to scratch our ears."^[14]

It was this appeal of intellectual friendship that sparked the entire wave of travel animi causa. Anyone with sharp intellect, a quick mind, and imagination longed for Italy. There, enlightened minds ignited inspiration in each other. Young, passionate individuals in England and Germany sought an escape from the dull and depressing attitudes of their uninformed elders—practical fighters whose ideals were stuck in an unchanging way of life.

I don’t need to explain how Englishmen first experienced the appeal of urban civilization. Mr. Einstein has recently described the travels of Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, Gunthorpe, Flemming, Grey, and Free in The Italian Renaissance in England. Regarding the Italian journeys of Selling, Grocyn, Latimer, Tunstall, Colet, and Lily, who were part of that remarkable group of scholars that revitalized Oxford by introducing Greek ideals and gave it a unique distinction that still shines today, I mention them simply to indicate that they are the source of the Renaissance's appreciation for foreign education and the pioneers of a trend that we will seek to trace as it spread widely. They all studied in Italy and returned with nothing but good. They combined their scholarship with a strong character that excellently introduced England to the great intellectual contributions they brought back. Their example inspired a pursuit of education through travel that lesser men could never have achieved.

Although Greek was taught better in England than in Italy through Grocyn, Linacre, and Tunstall, according to Erasmus,^[15] when Henry VIII came to the throne, the idea of Italy as the ultimate destination for scholars remained. Wealthy churchmen who supported education sent promising students to the Continent to receive a well-rounded education; for instance, Richard Fox, Founder of Corpus Christi, sent Edward Wotton to Padua "to improve his learning and mainly to learn Greek,"^[16] and Thomas Langton, Bishop of Winchester, supported Richard Pace at the same university.^[17] For Reginald Pole, the intellectual life in Italy was so appealing that he could never return to Henry VIII. Avoiding involvement in the chaos of the political world, he returned to Padua, surrounding himself with friends—"unique individuals who always distanced themselves from the court, wanting to live a holy life."^[18] Other English students who appreciated "good company and the love of learned men" were drawn to his household in Padua; Thomas Lupset,^[19] a close friend of Erasmus and Richard Pace; Thomas Winter,^[20], rumored to be Wolsey’s illegitimate son; Thomas Starkey,^[21] the historian; George Lily,^[22], son of the grammarian; Michael Throgmorton, and Richard Morison,^[23] who was set to become an ambassador.

There were other factors that contributed to the growth of travel besides the desire to become highly educated. Henry VIII's ambition to be a significant player in European politics led to stronger ties with the Continent. It soon became clear that a specific combination of traits was required in ambassadors to fulfill his ambitions. Churchmen, like the ungrateful Pole for whom he had generously paid for education, were often resistant to his views on the Pope; a good old English gentleman, though loyal, might be like Sir Robert Wingfield—simple, naive, and a target of ridicule among foreigners.^[24] A courtier like Lord Rochford, who could play tennis, write poetry, and become close with the court of Francis I., could struggle in debates over papal authority with well-educated church leaders.^[25] This is why the selection of ambassadors increasingly leaned toward educated men who also had knowledge of foreign countries: like Sir Thomas Wyatt or Sir Richard Wingfield from Cambridge and Gray's Inn, who had studied at Ferrara^[26]; Sir Nicholas Wotton, who lived in Perugia and earned a degree in civil and canon law^[27]; or Anthony St Lieger, who, according to Lloyd, "at twelve years old was sent for his grammar studies with his tutor to France, for his decorum to Italy, for philosophy to Cambridge, for law to Gray's Inn: and for that which completed all, the control of himself, to court; where his charm and openness endeared him to the king, as his sound judgment and wisdom did to the Cardinal."^[28] Sometimes Henry even took the effort to select and send promising university students abroad specifically to prepare them for diplomacy. During one visit to Oxford, he was impressed by the handsome appearance and eloquent speech of John Mason, who, despite being the son of a cowherd, was well-regarded at the university for his "polite and majestic speaking."

King Henry sent him abroad to gain practical experience alongside his studies and covered his education expenses from the king's Privy Purse, as shown by the royal expenses for September 1530. Among the entries like "£8, 18s. to Hanybell Zinzano, for drinks and other medicines for the King's Horses" and "20s. to the guy with the dancing dog," is the line for "a year's scholarship for Mason, the King's student in Paris, £3, 6s. 8d."^[29]

Another educational investment of the King's was Thomas Smith, who later became as impressive an ambassador as Mason. He supported him at Cambridge and, according to Camden, chose to send him to Italy when he was older. "Even until our days," Camden states under the year 1577, "certain young men with promising potential from both Universities have been funded in foreign countries at the King's expense to further enhance their skills and studies."^[30] The diplomatic path opened to young courtiers, if they demonstrated their suitability through experience abroad, was therefore as strong a reason for travel as the ambition to access the roots of humanism.

This once again blended into the quest for a more casual education—the kind that comes from "seeing the world." The marriage between Mary Tudor and Louis XII, and later the subtle connection of humanism and high spirits between Francis I and his "very dear and well-beloved good brother, cousin and gossip, perpetual ally and perfect friend," Henry the Eighth, encouraged many of Henry's courtiers to visit the French court at various times—especially the most stylish favorites and fashion leaders, the "friskers," as Andrew Boorde calls them,^[31] like Charles Brandon, George Boleyn, Francis Bryan, Nicholas Carew, or Henry Fitzroy. With every ambassador came a group of young gentlemen who, upon returning, spread a certain mysterious sophistication that was envied by those who stayed home. According to Hall, when they returned to England, they were "all French in eating and drinking and attire, yes, and in the French vices and boasts: so that all the estates of England were by them mocked, the ladies and gentlewomen were belittled, and nothing was praised by them unless it was in the French style."^[32] From this point onward, young courtiers sought to join the entourage of an ambassador to see the world and become like Ann Boleyn's charming brother, or Elizabeth's favorite, the Earl of Oxford, or whichever gallant was notable at court for their foreign elegance.

There was another factor contributing to the rise of travel, which affected diplomats, scholars, and courtiers—the need to learn modern languages. By the mid-sixteenth century, Latin was no longer enough for communication among educated people. In the most cultured countries, the vernacular had gained the same status as classical languages by becoming the literary medium for poets like Politian and Bembo, Ronsard, and Du Bellay. A beautiful vernacular literature, too significant to ignore, started to emerge everywhere. One could no longer stay updated with the best ideas without knowing modern languages. More influential than any academic pursuit was the Renaissance curiosity about humanity, which couldn't be fulfilled through Latin alone. Almost no one except clergy spoke Latin in everyday conversation. When a person visited foreign courts and wanted to socialize with ladies and fashionable people, or mingle with soldiers, or settle up with an innkeeper, they found they desperately needed the local language. By the time we reach the reign of Edward VI., we see Thomas Hoby, a typical young gentleman of the time, making diary entries like these: "Moved to the middle of Italy to better understand the language and to see Tuscany." "Went to Sicily both to see the country and to get away from English company for a while for the sake of the language."^[33] A year or two later, Roger Ascham writes from Germany that one of the main benefits of being at a foreign court was how easily one picked up German, French, and Italian, whether they wanted to or not. "I am almost an Italian myself and never even notice it." He claimed that such advantages were worth ten fellowships at St John's.^[34]

EDWARD DE VERE, SEVENTEENTH EARL OF OXFORD From an engraving by J. Brown after G.P. Harding. This favorite of Queen Elizabeth brought a lot of Italian styles to her Court.

We have observed how Italy became a magnet for scholars and how courtiers sought the favor that France offered, but we haven't yet explained the appeal of Germany. Germany, as a travel destination, was particularly popular during Edward the Sixth's reign. France briefly fell out of favor with the prominent figures we have the most records of. During Edward's reign, the attitudes of the leading individuals in England were significantly at odds with the French court. Edward's circle of Protestant politicians, educators, and chaplains felt most drawn to Germany—the country where the tides of the Reformation were surging, and people were passionately engaged in spiritual matters; the land of Sturm, Bucer, Fagius, and Ursinus—doctrinalists and educators greatly respected by Cambridge. Cranmer, who welcomed as many German scholars as could adapt to the English climate,^[35] maintained a strong connection of understanding and sympathy between Cambridge and Germany. Since Cambridge, rather than Oxford, dominated the academic and political landscape of Edward the Sixth's time, Germany became, in the minds of St John's men like Burleigh, Ascham, and Hoby, the place to encounter the most learned individuals of the day.

We’ve probably said enough to give a rough idea of the reasons behind the Renaissance trend of travel that led to the essays we’re about to discuss. Scholars wanted to specialize at foreign universities, studying Greek, medicine, or law; courtiers aimed to learn modern languages, understand foreign governments, and prepare themselves for state service. These were noble goals that brought great results for men of good character. Naturally, others were inspired to follow suit. By the Elizabethan era, the trend of traveling to become a "complete person" was well-established. Although some lesser individuals took on strange motivations and produced questionable outcomes, leading to critics in every generation who doubted the benefits of travel, the ideal continued. There was always something valuable to learn abroad, regardless of one's status. Those who didn’t benefit from studying international law picked up new fencing techniques instead. Moreover, since experiencing foreign cultures was costly and hard to obtain, gaining that experience elevated a young man’s status.

Besides, beneath worldly ambition was the old desire to explore the world and meet all kinds of people—to be challenged and tested. Stronger than any educational theory was the craving for distant, exotic things and the allure of the sea.

The love of travel, as we all know, thrived greatly during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. People from all walks of life wanted to venture overseas to

"A wind that pushes young men out into the world,
To chase their fortunes further than their hometown,
Where limited experience develops."^[36]

The explorer and the poet, the adventurer, the spendthrift and the earl's son, all yearned for foreign shores. What Ben Jonson said about Coryat could be applied to the average Elizabethan: "Just the address on a letter from Zurich gets him excited: Basel or Heidelberg has him spinning with joy. And when he sees the name Frankfurt or Venice, even if it's just in the title of a book, he’s ready to burst with excitement, complain loudly, and fill the room with his chatter."^[37] Lucky was an unknown gentleman like Fynes Moryson, who could travel for ten years through the "twelve Dominions of Germany, Bohemia, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Denmark, Poland, Italy, Turkey, France, England, Scotland, and Ireland" without being urgently called back home by his ruler. It was unfortunate to be a court favorite like Fulke Greville, who, four times, longing for new lands, was dragged back to England by Elizabeth.

Around the year 1575, when some of the most notable courtiers—Edward Dyer, Gilbert Talbot, the Earl of Hertford, and especially Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir Philip Sidney—had just come back from their travels, book publishers saw the value in printing guides for travelers. A demand emerged for advice aimed at young men, which became a significant aspect of Elizabethan literature, both published and unpublished. It was common for a young man set to travel to seek guidance from an experienced or older friend, who would then share a flood of maxims, much like Polonius. John Florio, who understood the attitudes of his time, illustrates this in a dialogue in Second Frutes.^[38] Robert Greene does the same in Greene's Mourning Garment.^[39] What began as personal advice from a wise individual to a young friend, like Cecil's letter to Rutland, evolved into generalized speeches for any traveler. This led to the creation of instructional manuals—remarkable little books filled with encouragement to travel as a human duty, summaries of key traits of foreigners, tips for treating sore feet—and a strange mix of other topics.

Among the first essays of this kind are translations from German writers, with whom, if Turler is correct, the guide for travel originated. The Germans, along with the English, were the most tireless travelers of all nations. Similar to the English, they suddenly realized they were outsiders on the fringes of civilization and, like modern-day Chicago, sent their young men “hustling for culture.” They eagerly adopted not only the Renaissance ideal of travel as a highly educational experience, which was believed to develop a well-rounded person intellectually, but also the Renaissance belief that travel was a duty to the State. Since both Germany and England were somewhat distanced from the older and more cultured nations, they needed to make an effort to learn what was happening at the center of the world. It became the responsibility of gentlemen, especially nobles, whom the State would look to for guidance, to seek out centers of learning, visit foreign courts, and by knowing people and languages, be able to advise their prince at home, as suggested in Il Cortegiano. It's important to remember that in the sixteenth century, there were no schools of political economy, modern history, or modern languages at the universities. A solid understanding of these subjects had to come from direct observation. This necessity led to the importance of seizing opportunities and the need for systematic, thorough inquiry, which we will see emphasized in these advisory manuals.

Hieronymus Turler claims that his De Peregrinatione (Argentorati, 1574) is the first book dedicated to travel advice. It was translated into English and published in London in 1575 under the title The Traveiler of Jerome Turler, and as far as I know, it's the first book of its kind in England. Not much is known about Turler, except that he was born in Leissnig, Saxony, in 1550, studied at Padua, became a Doctor of Law, traveled extensively—even to England, which was rare back then—and after serving as Burgomaster in his hometown, he died in 1602. Beyond De Peregrinatione, he produced three translations of Machiavelli.^[40]

Turler addresses two young German noblemen in his book "written for those who want to travel and see foreign countries, especially students.... I think they do a good deed and deserve recognition from everyone for providing guidance on travel. Although I realize that some have done this, they've done it here and there in various books and not in one specific place." A discussion on the benefits of travel appeared in Thomas Wilson's Arte of Rhetorique (1553),^[41] and some practical tips for avoiding ailments that travelers might encounter were printed in Basel in 1561,^[42] but Turler's book seems to be the first entirely dedicated to the praise of travel. Not only does Turler claim this himself, but Theodor Zwinger, who wrote Methodus Apodemica three years later, states that Turler and Pyrckmair were his only predecessors in this type of writing.^[43]

Pyrckmair was clearly one of those governors, or Hofmeister,^[44] who traveled with young German nobles on their trips around Europe. He wrote down a few guidelines for himself and the Count von Sultz, whom he expected to guide into Italy soon. He had previously traveled to Rome, where he felt both the excitement of a humanist and a Roman Catholic, marveling "in a stupor of admiration" at the magnificent remnants of classical civilization and the work of a caring Pope.^[45]

From Plantin's shop in Antwerp came in 1587 a narrative by another Hofmeister—Stephen Vinandus Pighius—about the life and travels of his royal charge, Charles Frederick, Duke of Cleves, who died during his grand tour in Rome. Pighius talks extensively,^[46] describing the Duke's guardians' doubts about sending him on the trip, weighing the pros and cons of travel. The costs and the risk of illness were significant drawbacks; however, the broadening of perspective that thoughtful travel offers far outweighed these and other negatives. After much discussion, "not only in the Council but also in the market-place and at the dinner-table," it was decided to send young Charles for two years to Austria to stay at the court of his uncle, Emperor Maximilian, and then to Italy, France, and Lower Germany to visit relatives, friends, and experience life.

Theodor Zwinger, known as the first to turn travel into a structured discipline and give it a scientific feel,^[47] died as a Doctor of Medicine in Basel. He wasn’t interested in his dad's furrier business, so he trained as a printer in Lyons for three years. Somehow, he picked up some philosophy from Peter Ramus in Paris, and then he went on to study medicine in Padua, where he met Jerome Turler.^[48] As a Doctor of Philosophy and Medicine, he held several teaching positions at Basel.

Even more prominent in the academic world was the next person to continue 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 added so much of his own ideas to the original that it’s almost a completely new work. Philip Jones didn’t take such liberties with the "Method" of Albert Meier, which he translated two years after its release in 1587.^[51] In his dedication to Sir Francis Drake of "this small but sweet book of Method for men intending their profit and honor by the experience of the world," Jones states that he originally intended it only for his own benefit, "when the pleasure of God, the right time, and good company" should lead him to travel.

The Pervigilium Mercurii by Georgius Loysius, a friend of Scaliger, was never translated into English, but the important qualities of a traveler described within it influenced English readers. Loysius compiled two hundred short, practical maxims, illustrated by relevant classical quotations, focusing on the proper behavior and responsibilities of a traveler. For example, he should avoid luxury, as Seneca advises, and laziness, as Horace and Ovid suggest; he should keep quiet about his wealth and knowledge and be discreet, like Ulysses. He should respect the morals and religions of others without criticizing them, since different nations have different religions and believe that they should diligently honor their ancestors' gods. Anyone who disregards these points acts with misguided zeal but without consideration for others' 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 echoes his nation's belief in saying that "Nature herself wants women to stay at home." "It's a common belief across all of Germany that no woman, unless she's really poor or a bit wild, wants to travel."^[53]

Adding to these earliest essays the Oration in Praise of Travel, by Hermann Kirchner,^[54] we have a collection of guidelines rooted in German culture, all marked by an elevated mood and soaring style. They share a common tendency to rationalize human activities, which was a prominent aspect of the Renaissance. The basic wandering impulse that Chaucer described alongside the songs of birds and the arrival of spring is elevated into a philosophy of travel.

Travel, according to our authors, is one of the best ways to build personal strength and social skills—essentially, that mysterious "virtù" that was so highly valued during the Renaissance. It had the added benefit of providing challenging experiences for young gentlemen with wealth and no job, who might otherwise be idly lounging on their country estates or living recklessly in London. Knight-errantry in chivalric society had offered the hardships and lessons that youth found beneficial; travel "for the sake of virtues, to apply the study of good arts,"^[55] was considered a great way to keep a young man productively occupied during the Renaissance. Besides the academic benefits of studying at foreign universities, travel also shaped character. The rude and arrogant young nobleman, who had never left his homeland, faced necessary challenges and disdain from strangers, which helped him become more humble. By witnessing the refinement of older cultures, his rough demeanor was smoothed out: the wild, uncivilized young man gradually transformed into a polished courtier. And as for teaching one wisdom and endurance, nothing was a better mentor than travel. The delicate, the soft, and the timid were toughened by dealing with unfamiliar cold, rain, or sun, uncomfortable seating, rocky pillows, thieves, and highway robbers. Any naive, careless, or foolish youth would be awakened and alert after a few encounters with "the cleverness of spies, the deceitfulness of innkeepers and prostitutes, and the real danger of his life."^[56] In short, the dangers and discomforts of travel served as a gentle introduction to the real life that a young man would soon have to navigate. Only experience could teach him how to be shrewd, careful, and daring; how to hold his ground, whether at court or at sea, among Elizabeth's adventurers.

However, this development of the individual was just one part of the benefit of travel. Far more noteworthy was his increased usefulness to the State. That was the strongest reason for leaving one’s "own sweet country homes" to face hardships and dangers overseas. A traveler can be of great benefit to his own country by comparing its social, economic, and military systems with those of other nations. He is wisely cautioned, therefore, against that blind preference for his own country that makes him ignore any potential improvements—"without just cause preferring his native country,"^[57] but instead to use judgment and discretion, to see, learn, and carefully note what in every place deserves praise and what needs to be improved, whether it be in magistrates, royal courts, schools, churches, armies—all the aspects related to civil life and governing a humane society. According to our authors, all improvements in society came from travelers bringing back new ideas. Examples from the ancients, to support a Renaissance argument, are brought up to prove this.^[58] The Romans sent their children to Marseilles, Cyrus traveled, even as a child, and Plato "gained most of his divine wisdom from the inner chambers of Egypt." Therefore, to learn how to serve one’s Prince in peace or war, whether as a soldier, ambassador, or "political person," one must, like Ulysses, have known many people and seen many cities; understand not only the objective features of foreign countries, such as fortifications, navigable rivers, and distances between locations, but also the more subjective traits, such as the "main strengths and virtues of the Spaniards and the French." What are the biggest flaws in both nations? How do the people in each country show their obedience to their prince, or resist him?"^[59] Here we see the newly acquired understanding of human nature that the sixteenth century was so proud of coming into play. An ambassador to Paris must know what particularly appeals to a Frenchman. Even a military captain must understand the specific strengths and weaknesses of the enemy: which nation is best at launching a surprise attack, which is more resilient in an open field confrontation, and which is cleverest at plotting an ambush.

Clearly, since there's such a diverse need to understand other countries, travel is a definite responsibility. Noah, Aristotle, Solomon, Julius Caesar, Columbus, and many other respected figures are cited to show that "everyone who has possessed significant knowledge, education, or wisdom throughout history has committed themselves to travel: and that no one has accomplished anything great or achieved any notable feat without having traveled."^[60]

This summary, of course, can't capture the style of each of our authors and only roughly shows their method of persuasion. It especially can't represent Zwinger's style, whose contribution is a treatise of four hundred pages organized in outline form, through which any single idea makes its complicated way through pages. Every aspect of the subject is divided and subdivided with careful detail. He can't talk about the time for travel without distinguishing between natural time, like years and days, and artificial time, like festivals and holidays; nor can he discuss transportation without specifying the possibility of being carried through the air by: (I) Mechanical means, like the wings of Icarus; or (2) Angels, as the Apostle Philip was taken from Samaria.^[61] In this complex method, he found an imitator in Sir Thomas Palmer.^[62] The following, a mere shortened excerpt, may help illustrate both books:--

"Traveling can be categorized as either:--
I. Irregular.
II. Regular. Among Regular Travelers, there are:
A. Non-voluntary, sent by the prince,
and engaged in matters of
1. Peace (etc.).
2. War (etc.).
B. Voluntary. Voluntary Regular Travelers
are viewed
1. Based on their incidental motivations.
a. Mainly, so that later they
may lead a more peaceful and fulfilling
life, to the glory of God.
b. Secondarily, concerning goals,
(i) Public.
(a) Who are prohibited from
traveling:
(1) Infants, elderly people,
the mentally impaired, women.
(b) Times that are not suitable for
traveling:
(2) When our country is
engaged in wars.
(c) Suitable times:
(1) When one can gain
the most benefit in the shortest
time, as that is his aim.
(2) When the country we wish to
travel to does not harbor any
suspicions towards us,
etc."

The idea of travel as a duty to the State had reached everyone from courtiers to common sailors during the Elizabethan era, as shown by various contemporary letters. Even William Bourne, an innkeeper in Gravesend, wrote a guide on applied mathematics called The Treasure for Travellers^[63], which he prefaced with a motivational piece similar to Turler’s style. In the letters of Lord Burghley, Sir Philip Sidney, Fulke Greville, the Earl of Essex, and Secretary Davison, we see how seriously they viewed the purpose of travel. They constantly reminded each other to keep the commonwealth’s well-being in mind, to waste no time, to apply order and method in their observations, and to bring back valuable information if possible. Sidney laments what he has missed due to "not directing my course toward the right goal, and using the right means." However, he believes his brother has engraved in his mind "the purpose and aim you intend to achieve with your efforts. Your goal is, as a gentleman born, to acquire knowledge of things that can be useful to your country."^[64]

Davison emphasizes the importance of experience, mocking those who believe they can prepare themselves through books alone: "Our armchair traveler might seem wise as long as he converses with dead individuals through reading, or writes to those who are absent. But once he steps onto the stage of public duty, he will quickly realize, if he is capable of feeling disdain, that he is unfit for action. The ability to engage with people of different temperaments, groups, and cultures; to adapt to them or hold back as needed, is not something learned solely from books, but rather through understanding people. Nevertheless, this remains true. The best scholar is the most suited for travel, as they can make the most valuable observations: combining experience with knowledge creates a well-rounded individual."^[65]

Both Essex and Fulke Greville offer strong cautions against having a shallow and flashy understanding of foreign places: "The true purpose of knowledge is to have clear and strong judgment, not to show off or to be able to chat, which I mention to your Lordship because most noblemen and gentlemen today use their education just for small talk. But God knows, those who only have this ability to talk have gained very little: for, like empty containers, they make a lot of noise when someone knocks on their surfaces, yet if you look inside them, you will find they are filled with nothing but air."^[66]

Lord Burghley, without wasting any time, briefly instructs the Earl of Rutland on important observations. These include details about frontier towns, the size of their garrisons, etc.; the noblemen residing in each province and the trades that support each city. At Court, he discusses the king's and his siblings' natural dispositions, the king's diet, and so on. "Especially for you, as a nobleman, how noblemen manage their wives, children, and estates; how they provide for their younger children; how they run their households for meals," and so forth.^[67]

So much for the mindset of the first "Subsidium Peregrinantibus." It’s clear that being a traveler in Elizabethan times was both a challenge and an opportunity. However, there’s enough evidence in biographies that those who received these instructions took their travels seriously and aimed to benefit the nation. Among the Rutland papers^[68] is a plan for fortifications and some notes made by Edward Manners, to whom Cecil sent the letter of advice mentioned earlier. Sir Thomas Bodley shares how driven he was by a sense of patriotism: "I became eager to travel abroad to learn some important modern languages and to gain more experience in handling affairs, fully dedicated to using my efforts and concerns for the public service of the state."^[69] Assurance of their purpose in traveling is expressed in letters from abroad by Sir John Harington and the third Earl of Essex to their friend Prince Henry. Essex states: "Now that I have embarked on my travels, with the aim of gaining true knowledge and enhancing my experience, I hope God will bless my efforts so that I can return as an acceptable servant to Your Highness."^[70] Harington expresses a similar sentiment, hoping that through his travels and experiences in foreign lands, he will eventually be better prepared to carry out the commands of His Highness.^[71]

One of the key ways to serve your country was by writing "Observations on his Travels." This was the first task for a young man aiming to be a "political person." Harington promises to send Prince Henry whatever notes he can gather about different countries. Henry Wotton offers Lord Zouche "A View of all the current German princes."^[72] Keeping a journal is emphasized in almost all the "Directions." "It’s a good idea," says Lord Burghley to Edward Manners, "that you create a notebook where you can daily or at least weekly record everything that happens to you,"^[73] because such observations, when contemporary history was rare, were valuable. They also guaranteed that the traveler had made good use of their time. The Earl of Salisbury writes sternly to his son abroad:

FRANCIS MANNERS, SIXTH EARL OF RUTLAND Traveling in 1598. Part of a family of Elizabethan travelers. Edward, the third Earl of Rutland, got a letter of guidance from Lord Burleigh on what to notice in France in 1570. Roger, the fifth Earl of Rutland, was advised by Bacon regarding his travels in 1596.

"I notice every week a letter from Sir John Harington in the Prince's hands, filled with news about the area he's in, the countries he travels through, and everything that's happening. This shows that he pays attention to noteworthy events."

This story was one of the main responsibilities of a traveler. As soon as Gilbert Talbot arrives in Padua, he has to write to his impatient parents and explain why he hasn't sent that "Relation." "We're fulfilling your command by writing about our travels, which we would have sent with these letters, but it couldn't be conveniently carried with them, as it can be with the next letters we write."^[74] Francis Davison, the Secretary's son, couldn't quite manage to finish his "Relation of Tuscany." He initially mentions that he had been ill; his tutor explains that the Italian diet—"roots, salads, cheese, and similar cheap dishes"—"Mr. Francis can in no way digest," and after that, he is too stressed about his financial situation. In response to his father's complaints about his spending, he states: "Your last letter has so discouraged me regarding my promised relation of Tuscany that I am resolved not to continue with it."^[75] The journal of Richard Smith, a gentleman who accompanied Sir Edward Unton to Italy in 1563, shows how even an ordinary person, who wasn’t keen on writing, diligently tried to note the fortifications and productivity of each province, whether it was "marvelously barren" or "mostly vineyards"; the main products, and the characteristics of the inhabitants: "The people (on the Rhine) are very hard-working and not so hard-working as they are rude and slovenly." "In most parts of this land, the women are good-looking but poorly built."^[76]

Besides documenting his observations, the traveler worked diligently on modern languages. Cecil wrote many stern letters to his son Thomas in Paris, urging him to focus on his French. This was because Thomas's tutor struggled to keep his student away from dog-fights, horses, and other distractions alongside the Earl of Hertford, who was a major obstacle to Thomas's progress in the language.^[77] Francis Davison suggests that his journey was far from a vacation, as he was busy studying Italian, reading history and politics, and writing his "Relation." In fact, as Lipsius noted, merging the life of a traveler with that of a scholar was challenging: "the one being of necessity in continual motion, care and business, the other naturally affecting ease, safety and quietness."^[78] However, by steering clear of Englishmen, as per our "Directions," and persistently engaging with the locals, one could still accomplish something worthwhile.

To live in the household of a knowledgeable foreigner, like Robert Sidney with Sturm or Henry Wotton with Hugo Blotz, was certainly a highly sought-after experience. Back in the Elizabethan era, there were still traces of that enthusiastic sociability among humanists, which prompted Englishmen to travel great distances across seas and lands just to converse with some scholar along the Rhine— that spirit of camaraderie that led Cranmer to fill Lambeth Palace with Martin Bucers; and Bishop Gardiner, in the meantime, complained from the Tower not only about "lack of books to keep my mind occupied, but also lack of good company—the only comfort in this world."^[79] It remained just as thrilling to see a wise person as it was when Ascham wandered through every city he passed, to attend lectures or debate the correct pronunciation of Greek; until he missed dinner or realized that his group had left town.^[80] Travel advice is full of this enthusiasm. Essex tells Rutland, "your Lordship should rather go a hundred miles to speak with one wise man than five miles to see a beautiful town." Stradling, translating Lipsius, encourages the Earl of Bedford not to "be ashamed or disdainful to immerse yourself in their company." "Talking with learned individuals, we unconsciously imitate them, just as those who walk in the sun for recreation are colored by it and sunburned; or rather, and better, like those who linger a while in the apothecary's shop until their confections are made, carry away the fragrance of sweet spices even in their clothes."^[81]

There are signs that the scholars weren't always eager to engage with curious strangers who interrupted them. The famous Doctor Zacharias Ursinus at Heidelberg had this note on his door: "My friend, whoever you are, if you come here, please either leave or help me with my studies."^[82] Sidney predicts the challenges his brother may face: "How will I get smart people to take the time to talk to me? Honestly, it boils down to this: either you need to spend a lot of money or be very humble."^[83]

If you couldn't live with famous scholars, it was a smart idea to rent a room with a well-known bookseller. Important figures like politicians, lawyers, and other notable people visited the shop, and you could learn a lot from their conversations. Eventually, there might be a chance to get close and become friends with these individuals, and maybe, if one of them, who wasn't a scholar, planned to travel to another city, they might let you join them.^[84]

Of course, when it came to observation and experience, there was no better place than the household of an ambassador, if you were lucky enough to gain access. The English Ambassador in France usually had a group of young men under his supervision. Sometimes they were housed separately in Paris, but many were part of his entourage and had their meals and drinks covered, along with those of their servants and horses, at the ambassador's expense.

Sir Amias Paulet's Letter-Book from 1577-8 shows that an ambassador's responsibilities were made even heavier by having to write reports to parents. Mr. Speake assures that "even though I live far from Paris, I am aware of your son's actions there and can't commend him enough to you for both his diligence in studying and his honest and quiet behavior. I can assure you that you can safely trust him both with his expenses and his overall conduct."^[85] Mr. Argall, whose brother couldn't stay at Paulet's house, needs to be comforted as much as possible through a letter.^[86] Mr. Throckmorton, after some questionable behavior, is sent home to his mother under the pretense of delivering a letter to England. "His mother wishes for his arrival to seem like it was his own request so the Queen won't be upset about it." His mother "has promised to help him get permission to travel to Italy." But, Paulet says, "He can't go to Italy without the company of some decent and wise man, and I've told him that, and have been very straightforward with him about many other things."^[87]

Among these troublesome accusations against Paulet was Francis Bacon. However, to his father, the Lord Keeper, Paulet only writes that everything is fine, and that his son's servant is especially honest, hardworking, discreet, and trustworthy, and that Paulet is grateful for his "good and calm behavior in my house"—a fact which seems unusual.

Sir Dudley Carleton, as the Ambassador to Venice, was also sought after by ambitious fathers.^[88] Sir Rowland Lytton Chamberlain writes to Carleton, hoping only "that his son could stay in your home, and that you would train him a bit and guide him toward a career. I see he intends to make him a statesman and is very convinced of his potential,... like a very caring father.... If you can manage it, it would be a favor; but I understand how challenging it is to handle young talents, so I won't insist more than what you find agreeable."^[89]

Besides gaining an apprenticeship in diplomacy, another benefit of traveling with an ambassador was the protection of ambassadorial immunities. Sir Philip Sidney might have faced dire consequences in Paris during the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre if he hadn't been part of Sir Francis Walsingham's household. Many other young men, not as famous in history but just as cherished by their mothers, were saved in the same way. When news of the massacre reached England, Sir Thomas Smith wrote to Walsingham: "I’m glad that amidst these riots and bloody purges, you and the young gentlemen with you were safe.... Yet we hear that the person sent by my Lord Chamberlain to be a tutor to young Wharton, who arrived the day before, was killed. Alas! He didn’t know anyone and was not involved in any wrongdoing. You can easily imagine how anxious the mothers and parents are about such young gentlemen over there, as shown by Lady Lane, who is praying very earnestly for her son to be sent home as quickly as possible."^[90]

The dangers of travel were alarming for mothers. Besides threats from Catholics, there were shipwrecks, pirates, and highway robbers. Moors and Turks lurked "in a little port under the hill," ready to seize passenger ships traveling between Rome and Naples. "If we had come by day like we did by night, we would have all been taken as slaves."^[91] In dark paths up mountain sides, or on some large heath in Prussia, you might encounter a horseman "well stocked with pistols, who could easily be called a Black Knight—his face was as black as a devil in a play."^[92] Inns were dangerous. A man couldn’t show any money for fear of being murdered at night.^[93] It was smarter to dress as a humble country boy and hide his gold in his boots. Even if he managed to avoid common criminals, he might easily offend dangerous university students, just like the eldest son of Sir Julius Cæsar, who was killed in a brawl in Padua,^[94] or the Admirable Crichton, who was stabbed by his noble student in a dark street and bled to death in a lonely room.^[95] Even worse were the less dramatic risks from strange diets and unclean inns. It was a rare treat to have a bed to yourself. More likely, travelers had to share it with a stranger of unpleasant appearance, if not character.^[96] At German inns, "every traveler must sit at the common table with both masters and servants," so they were often forced to sit with such "slaves" that in the scramble to grab the best pieces from the shared dish in the middle, "one would be horrified to see such filthy hands in his food."^[97] Many eager tourists fell ill with smallpox before they had seen anything of the world worth mentioning, or if they returned home, they brought back a weakened constitution. The third Lord North suffered health issues for life because of the excessive amounts of hot treacle he consumed in Italy to avoid the plague.^[98]

DUDLEY NORTH, THIRD BARON NORTH From a print of an original picture in the Collection of the Earl of Guildford In 1602, he barely survived the plague in Venice by drinking excessive amounts of hot treacle, which he believed contributed to his ongoing poor health.

But the Elizabethan wasn't really worried about the insignificant risks of smallpox, quartan ague, or thieves. Those concerns were beneath his heroic spirit. Sir Edward Winsor, warned about the dangerous pirates in the Gulf of Malta, writes: "And since it shouldn't be said that an Englishman traveled so far to see Malta, only to turn back again, I decided to make my burial place in that Gulf."^[99] It was the kind of danger that weakened a person's character that led people to question the value of travel. So far, we haven't mentioned any of the books aimed at travelers that remind us of Ulysses' trials or give dark warnings about the "Siren-songs of Italy." Since these were written around the same time as the glowing speeches praising travel, it might be worth considering them before we go any further.

The traveler just back from foreign countries was a big target for the satirists. In Elizabethan times, his exaggerated bows and extreme politeness, his tight black clothes from Venice, his French accent, and his picky habits, like using perfumes and toothpicks, really annoyed the average Englishman. You could always count on getting a good response if you complained about the "fancy clothes and ridiculous hats" of the "affected traveler"; how his outfit shouted French or Italian, and his manner said "look at me!" and how he spoke his own language with shame and disgust.^[100] "You’ll see a stylish guy, who’s been just over at Deepe,^[101] twisting his face around like someone stirring a mustard jar, and speaking English through clenched teeth, like ... Monsieur Mingo de Moustrap."^[102] Nash was one of the best at describing someone who had lived in France for six years, "and when they came back, they had a bit of a pale, worn face under a big French hat, made a huge fuss with the dust in the street in their long gray paper cloaks, and spoke English oddly. They didn’t gain anything from their travels except knowing how to tell the real Bordeaux grape from Orléans wine; yeah, and maybe this too, thinking of the pox as just a pimple, wearing a velvet patch on their face, and walking around sadly with their arms crossed."^[103]

The Frenchified traveler faced a lot of mockery, but even harsher things were said about the Italian-influenced Englishman. He was an atheist—something previously unseen in England—who boldly mocked both Protestants and Catholics. He ridiculed the Pope, criticized Luther, and only valued himself.^[104] "I don't care," he said, "what you tell me about God, as long as I have the prince and the laws of the land on my side."^[105] In politics, he aligned himself with the Catholics, as they matched his lifestyle better than the Puritans, but he was unfaithful to all factions.^[106] In his personal life, he was immoral and practiced "such wickedness that it’s disgusting to mention," for in Italy he had served Circe, who turns men into beasts.^[107] "But I worry," says Ascham, "that too many of our travelers to Italy do not avoid the path to Circe's Court: instead, they hurry to get there; they rush and run to serve her: yes, I could point out some who had never left England, except to serve Circe in Italy. Vanity and vice and any permission for bad behavior in England seemed old and crude to them."^[108]

It’s likely that some of these accusations were true. Italy captivated the Elizabethan Englishman more than any other country, partly because its climate, people, and scenery were so different from his own gray home. He was especially enchanted by Venice. The sun, the sea, the beautiful streets, "so clean that you can walk in silk stockings and satin slippers,"^[109] the tall palaces with marble balconies, the golden-haired women, the flagellants punishing themselves, the street performers, the Turks, the dignified gentlemen in black gowns—all of it was new and strange and appealed to his sense of romance. Moreover, the University of Padua was still one of the best universities in Europe, attracting students from all over. William Thomas talks about the "endless influx of all nations that is constantly seen there. And I truly believe that in no other place in the world are there as many foreigners as in Italy; especially among gentlemen, whose main reason for going there is supposedly to study... all kinds of virtue can be learned there: and so, those places are suitably filled: not just by the kind of students who are typically found in our universities (children of the middle class sent to school in hopes of living off hired learning) but mostly by the sons of noblemen and the finest gentlemen: who study more for knowledge and enjoyment than for curiosity or profit: ... Last winter while living in Padua, I learned through diligent research that the number of scholars there was hardly less than fifteen hundred; and I dare say, at least a thousand were gentlemen."^[110]

The life of a student at Padua was way more exciting than the quiet life of a monastery at an English university. He didn't have to go to many lectures because, as Thomas Hoby explains, once a scholar is chosen by the rectors, "He is by his scholarship bound to no lectures, nor nothing else but what he wants to go to."^[111] So, being a gentleman and not a clerk, he was more inclined to focus on fencing or horseback riding. At Padua, "there's no Shrove-tide that goes by without tournaments, jousting, fighting at the barriers, and other similar feats of arms, done and equipped in the best way: the biggest performers of these are scholars."^[112]

Then, the scholar mixed up his activities by taking trips to Venice on one of the daily passenger boats from Padua. It was said that "the boat will sink if it carries neither Monk, Student, nor Courtesan," as most of the passengers were from those groups.^[113] As Moryson points out, if he didn’t offend anyone and end up with a knife in his back from a fellow student, he was likely to have pleasant conversations along the way.^[114] Hoby made several trips from Padua to Venice to see things like the "lively young Duke of Ferrara, well accompanied by noblemen and gentlemen ... jousting with beautiful Turks and corsairs, dressed in a Turkish style, and on foot throwing eggs into the windows among the ladies full of sweet waters and damask powders," or like the Latin Quarter students who visit "La Morgue" to view the body of a gentleman killed in a feud, displayed for all to see in his home--"to be seen by all."^[115] In the unusual mix of nationalities in Venice, a student could spend all day watching street performers, bloody brawls, and parades. In the well-known freedom of that city where "no one pays attention to what others are doing or interferes with someone else's life,"^[116] it was no surprise that a young man fresh from an English university, away from people who knew him, was sometimes "lured by immoral people:" and once he lost his innocence, he surpassed even the students of Padua. Because, as Greene says, "our minds are as sharp as any, yet our desires are quicker than theirs to indulge in any of their immoral behaviors."^[117] Thus came the famous saying, "An Englishman Italianized is a devil incarnate."

Hence the warnings about Circe from even those authors who most enthusiastically praise travel. Lipsius advises his noble student to be cautious of Italian women: " ... among women, strikingly beautiful, but seductive and bold."^[118] Turler must admit "an age-old complaint made by many that our countrymen usually bring three things with them from Italy: a guilty conscience, an empty wallet, and a weak stomach: and often it turns out to be true." For since "youth and thriving years are most commonly spent traveling, which by their very nature are prone to vice, and much more readily embrace it if enticed," ... "often pleasures make a man forget about his return," ... but he is lured by the songs of Mermaids, "thus returning home with enough shame and disgrace."^[119]

It was also important to caution the traveler against those seemingly harmless sins we've already mentioned: against acting arrogant upon returning to his homeland, or being vain and eager to show that he had traveled abroad and was not like everyone else. Perhaps he had an intellectual pretentiousness about atheism or a refined taste for Machiavelli that he used to shock his old-fashioned countrymen. It seems that almost the only book Sir Edward Unton brought back with him from Venice was the Historie of Nicolo Machiavelli, Venice, 1537. He wrote on the title page: "Macchavelli Maxima / Qui nescit dissimulare / nescit vivere / Vive et vivas / Edw. Unton. /"^[120] Maybe it was just his flaunting of Italian clothes—"civil, because black, and comely because fitted to the body,"^[121] or his fancier table manners than what Englishmen were used to that drew mockery from his enemies. No doubt there was a certain condescension in the returned traveler that made him unpleasant—especially if he happened to be a proud and arrogant courtier, who caught the Queen's eye with his sharp wit and new ideas, or if he were a vain youth of the sort that cluttered the streets of London with their ruffles and swagger.

In speculating about who Ascham had in mind when he mentioned knowing men who returned from Italy with "less learning and worse manners," I thought Arthur Hall might be one of them—he was the first person to translate Homer into English. Hall was a promising student of Greek at Cambridge and started his translation with Ascham's encouragement.^[122] Between 1563 and 1568, while Ascham was writing The Scolemaster, Hall left for Italy without finishing his degree or completing the Homer translation. It would have annoyed Ascham to see a student from St John's abandon his studies just to wander about. Indeed, Hall’s later life confirmed Ascham's concerns about the worth of traveling abroad. When he returned, he led a scandalous life in London until a bar fight got him kicked out of Parliament. I could take a moment to discuss Hall's unusual account of this incident, as it's one of the few statements we have from a recognized Englishman influenced by Italian culture—of a particular kind.

Hall, it seems, was one of those charming guys who strutted around Elizabethan London and used

"To love to play dice
To swear by his blood and heart
To confront with a tough look
And tilt his hat to the side."^[123]

The humorists shed a lot of light on these "young gentlemen." So does Fleetwood, the Recorder of London, to whom they would run when they were arrested for debt or for killing a carman, making as their only excuse, "I am a gentleman, and being a gentleman, I shouldn’t be treated like a slave or a fool." ^[124] Hall, writing in the third person, pretending to be a friend, describes himself as "a man not completely uneducated, with a bit of knowledge of several languages... furious when he is contradicted... as you yourself can witness from his dealings in Rome, Florence, and along the way to Bologna... just as unforgiving if he senses an injury, as Sylla would prefer to be on good terms with Marius rather than with his equals, regarding grievances caused by trifles... Also spending more time on sports, and pursuing them, than is in any way commendable, and even less so, because, I assure you, the sums dealt with are substantial." ^[125]

This awful person, on December 16, 1573, at Lothbury in London, had dinner at a table where meals cost twelve pence, with some merchants and a guy named Melchisedech Mallerie. They started playing dice, and during the game, Mallerie "insulted one of the players with harsh words in anger." "Hall swore (he's not shy about throwing in an oath or two) that he would throw Mallerie out the window. Things were heating up, tempers were flaring... but the host felt sorry about the scandal that a fight should break out in his house,... so... the issue was resolved for that moment."

But a certain Master Richard Drake, who was attending my Lord of Leicester, made an effort to first warn Hall to watch out for Mallerie while playing, and then informed Mallerie that Hall claimed he engaged in "scandalous practices at cards." The next day at "Poules"^[126], Mallerie confronted Hall aggressively, accusing him of saying he was cheating people at Mawe. Instead of displaying the anger he was known for, Hall calmly denied the accusation. He explained that he was being patient because he needed to maintain peace due to past conflicts. Mallerie responded by saying it was because Hall was a coward.

Mallerie kept saying this for months, until one day in front of a group of gentlemen at the "ordinary" of a man named Wormes, his taunts became so unbearable that Hall quietly approached him from behind and attempted to stab him in the back. A general scuffle broke out; someone held Hall down, and in an instant, the room filled with Lord Zouche, gentlemen, and others, while "Mallerie with a great shriek ran quickly out the doors, up a flight of stairs, and there shouted very harsh words against Mr. Hall."

Hall, who had injured himself—and no one else—kept his wound tended to indoors for a few days, during which friends relayed that Mallerie was planning to "show him an Italian trick," intending to do him some secret and unexpected harm. Then, with "a muffler half over his face," Hall took post-horses to his home in Lincolnshire. He claims he was called back by business. There was absolutely no reason for Mallerie to suggest he was fleeing in disguise.

After six months, he decided to go back to London and have fun again. He ate at "James Lumelies—the son, as they say, of old M. Dominicke, born in Genoa, about whom there are various stories regarding the loss of his nose,"—and on his way back to his place, he stopped by a familiar gaming house and joined in the games like everyone else.

But there’s no peace for him. Mallerie comes in—and with an insufferably arrogant stride and expression, brushes past. Hall tries to take a casual stroll around Poules with his friend Master Woodhouse: "Mallerie comes by again, passing two or three times by Hall, giving him big stares and bumping into him on the elbows, and kicking three or four times at a spaniel belonging to Mr. Woodhouse, who is following his master and Master Hall." Hall grumbles to his servants, "Seriously, can you not bang that boy's head against the wall since he’s running around bragging like this?" His three servants leave the church through the west door: when Mallerie walks out, they attack him and slash him across the cheek.

We won't cover the story of the lawsuit that Mallerie filed against Hall's servants, the trial overseen by Recorder Fleetwood, Mallerie's death, who "passed away leaning towards the old Father of Rome, a guy I’ve heard some say Mr. Hall doesn’t dislike," or Hall’s later expulsion from Parliament. This is enough to illustrate what kind of harmless, boastful characters some of these "Italians" were, and how easily they gained a reputation for being desperate people. Mallerie's lawyer during the trial accused Hall of "seeking revenge with an Italian mindset learned in Rome."

Among other Italianized Cambridge men that Ascham might have noticed were George Acworth and William Barker. 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 due to his laziness, reckless behavior, and drinking, he lost all his positions in England.^[127] Barker, or Bercher, who was educated at St John's or Christ's, was abroad at the same time as Ascham, who may have met him like Hoby did in Italy.^[128] Barker seems to have been an idle person—he says that after traveling, "my former fancy of professing nothing particularly was very much increased"^[129]—and a supporter of Catholicism, for when Mary came to power, he returned home to serve the Duke of Norfolk, whose Catholic plots he betrayed under torture in 1571. It was then that the Duke bitterly called him an "Italianized Englishman," equal in faithlessness to "a shameless Scot";^[130] i.e. the Bishop of Ross, another witness.

Edward de Vere, the seventeenth Earl of Oxford, known for his rude behavior toward Sir Philip Sidney, whom he later tried to kill with hired assassins in the Italian style,^[131] could easily have been one of the young courtiers that Ascham lamented. During Ascham's lifetime, he was already a well-known dandy, and by 1571, at the age of twenty-two, he was the favorite at court. Friends of the Earl of Rutland, keeping him updated while he was in Paris fulfilling the heavy responsibilities of observation that Cecil set out for him, reported that "There is no man of life and agility in every respect in Court, but the Earl of Oxford."^[132] A month later, they wrote, "Th' Erle of Oxenforde hath gotten hym a wyffe—or at the least a wyffe hath caught hym—that is Mrs. Anne Cycille, to whom the Queen has given her consent, which has caused great crying, wailing, and sorrowful looks from those who hoped to have had that golden day."^[133] Ascham did not live to witness the transformation of this favorite into an Italianate Englishman, but Harrison's criticism of noblemen's sons going to Italy coincided with the Earl's return from a foreign tour that seems to have been poorly spent.

At the time when the Queen was "more delighted with his appearance, dancing, and bravery than anyone else,"^[134] Oxford left for Flanders without permission. Although his father-in-law Burghley brought him back to an upset Elizabeth, the following year he set off again, heading for Italy. From Siena, on January 3rd, 1574-5, he wrote to Burghley to ask him to sell some of his land to help him deal with his debts. In response to Burghley’s warning that he needed to pay attention to his affairs in England, he replied that since he had so many troubles at home, he had decided to keep traveling.^[135] Eight months later, from Italy, he asked for Burghley’s help in getting a license to continue his travels for another year, explaining that he wanted to learn more about Germany. (In another letter^[136], he assures Cecil that he plans to get to know Sturmius—an educator of youth whom Ascham highly praised.) "As for Italy, I’m glad I’ve seen it, but I don’t wish to see it again unless it’s to serve my prince or country." The reason they haven’t heard from him this past summer is that his letters were returned because of the plague at sea. He didn’t find this out until he returned to Venice recently. He has been suffering from a fever. The letter ends with a note that he has borrowed 500 crowns from Baptista Nigrone, which he wants repaid from the sale of his lands, and a brief thank you for the news of his wife's delivery.^[137]

From Paris, after six months, he expresses his happiness about becoming a father but makes no plans to return to England. Instead, he intends to head back to Venice. He "might spend two or three months visiting Constantinople and some parts of Greece."^[138]

However, Burghley says, "I wrote to Paris to urge him to come home quickly," and in April 1576, he landed at Dover in a very bad mood. He refused to see his wife and told Burghley he could take his daughter back into his house, as he was determined "to be rid of the hassle."^[139] He accused his father-in-law of holding back money that was owed to him, although Burghley notes that Oxford received £5700 in one year.^[140] Considering that Robert Sidney, who later became the Earl of Leicester, had only £100 a year for traveling abroad,^[141] and that Sir Robert Dallington claims £200 is more than enough for a gentleman studying in France or Italy—including pay for a servant—and that any more would be "unnecessary and harmful to him,"^[142] it shows that the Earl of Oxford had £5500 "to his detriment."

Certain results of his travels made his ruler happy, though. He was the first person to bring to England "gloves, sweet bags, a perfumed leather jacket, and other nice things."^[143] The Queen was so proud of his gift of a pair of scented gloves, decorated with "four Tufts or Roses of colored Silk," that she was "painted with those Gloves on her hands, and for many years after, it was called the Earl of Oxford's perfume."^[144] His own trendy and stylish clothes were mocked by Gabriel Harvey, in the famous description of an Italian-style Englishman, starting:

"A slightly ridiculous hat stuck fast to the head, like an oyster."^[145]

Arthur Hall and the Earl of Oxford might illustrate that many young men, seen as having returned worse off for their freedom to explore the world, would have contributed little to society if they had never left their homeland. Weak and superficial young men of purely English background escaped the scrutiny that fell on a sinner dressed in strange clothes and using unfamiliar swear words. In those clothes alone lay an offense to the community. I only need to mention the well-known envy among English haberdashers and milliners regarding the superior skills of Continental workers, behind whom English weavers lagged: Henry the Eighth had to wear hose made from pieces of cloth—on that leg which he was so proud of—unless "by great chance a pair of Spanish silk stockings came from Spain."^[146] Knit worsted stockings weren’t produced in England until 1554, when an apprentice "happened to see a pair of knit worsted stockings in the lodgings of an Italian merchant who came from Mantua."^[147] Harrison's description of England reflects a resentment towards foreign clothing, clearly based on commercial jealousy: "Never was it merrier in England than when an Englishman was recognized abroad by his own cloth and was happy at home with his fine carsey trousers and simple outfit: his coat, gown, and cloak in brown, blue, or dull colors, with some nice touches of velvet or fur, and a doublet in sober tawny, or black velvet, or other decent silk, without the flashy cuts and bright colors seen these days, which were only introduced with the consent of the French, who consider themselves the most stylish when they have the widest variety of rags and colors on them."^[148]

Caught up in economic bitterness, there was a lot of the old English disdain for a Frenchman, a Spaniard, or any foreigner, which kept popping up. Whether it was the apprentices causing riots or some rude guy who pulls up next to the Spanish ambassador's carriage, yanks 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,”^[149] or it was the Smithfield officers assigned to cut down swords that were too long, who targeted the French ambassador because his sword exceeded the legal limit. "He was in a great fury.... Her Majestie is greatly offended with the officers, in that they wanted judgement."^[150]

There was also a strong dislike of the entire new way of life, of which the trend for travel was just a phase: a dislike for the new courtiers who looked down on living in the countryside, surrounded by a large group of family servants, and preferred to rent small apartments in London, getting involved in the excitement of city life. The theatre, gambling spots, fencing schools, bowling alleys, and especially the allure of the streets and the crowds were attractions that were just starting to make their mark in Elizabethan England. However, the public outcry was loud against the nobles who chose to spend their money on such things instead of improving their estates, and who squandered on fancy clothes what was once used for roast beef for their servants. Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier mocks what the new and sophisticated Englishman would say:--

"The world has changed, and people have become more intelligent, with their minds reaching for more honorable thoughts. They were clueless back then, lacking the true understanding of gentility, which led them to live modestly and die unnoticed. But now, people's abilities have been refined. Time has given a new flair to gentlemen's behavior, and they express it as they should: not like gluttons as their fathers did, indulging in heaps of beef and charity to the poor, but in velvets, satins, cloth of gold, and pearls. Yes, even pearl lace, which was rarely worn by Caligula on his birthday."^[151]

Overall, we can say that the objections to traveling abroad stemmed from various reasons. Ascham certainly knew of real cases of young men who were spoiled by too much freedom, and there were likely many annoying boys who flaunted their "foreign misdeeds." Insular bias, jealousy, and traditionalism, which resented foreign influence, highlighted these negative examples. Lastly, there was another factor in the backlash against foreign travel, which grew stronger toward the end of Elizabeth's reign and the start of James the First's, namely the animosity toward Italy as the stronghold of the Roman Catholic Church, and the fear of the Inquisition. Warnings against the Jesuits are a notable aspect of the next group of Instructions for Travelers.

The rising tensions between Protestants and Catholics in the last quarter of the sixteenth century had a lot to do with the criticism of travel we've mentioned. Out of fear and hatred for Roman Catholic countries, the English worried about any attractions—intellectual or otherwise—that the Continent held for their sons. They would rather see them miss out on the benefits of a good education than risk falling completely under the influence of the Papists. The intense and fiery patriotism that erupted in response to the Spanish Armada nearly ruined the positive spirit of travel for education. It drove nations apart and damaged the shared admiration for Italy that once drew young men from the north there in huge numbers. We can no longer picture an Englishman like Selling arriving at the great Politian in Bologna and embracing him warmly—"arctissima sibi conjunxit amicum familiaritate,"^[152] as that heartfelt humanistic phrase puts it. By the seventeenth century, Politian would be viewed as a "contagious Papist," using his charisma to convert people to Romanism, while Selling would be seen as a "true son of the Church of England," criticizing Politian for his "debauch'd and Popish principles." The Renaissance had inspired people to travel to Italy as the pinnacle of the world. They had barely begun their journey before the Reformation labeled it a place of corruption. Lord Burghley, who in the early days of Elizabeth had been so eager for a foreign education for his eldest son, had trained him in languages and encouraged him to go to Italy,^[153] but at the end of his long life, he instructed his children: "Do not let your sons cross the Alps, for they will learn nothing there except pride, blasphemy, and atheism. And if they gain a few broken languages from travel, that will be no more useful than serving one dish on different plates."^[154]

The mother of Francis Bacon is a great example of the Puritan distrust of going "beyond seas." She could not support her son Anthony's decision to get involved in foreign affairs, as it brought him close to Roman Catholics. Throughout his long time abroad, she worried and stressed, while Anthony stubbornly stayed in France, building connections with valuable contacts, spies, and informants that later made him one of the top experts in England on continental politics. He had a trusted servant, a Catholic named Lawson, whom he sent back home to deliver some important secret news to Lord Burghley. Lady Bacon, fearing that Lawson's presence would corrupt her son's faith and morals, had him arrested and held in England. His anxious master sent another man to appeal to his mother for Lawson's release, but it was no use. The letter from this messenger to Anthony will illustrate the intensity of anti-Catholic sentiment in a British matron in 1589.

"Upon my arrival at Godombery, my lady treated me kindly until I started to mention Mr. Lawson. Honestly, I was so impressed with your presence there that she couldn't help but say that you are a traitor to God and your country; you've destroyed her. You are seeking her downfall, and when you achieve what you desire, you will gain only a hundred pounds more than you have now."

"She is determined to get the queen's letter to make you come back; and if that happens, whether the queen treats you fairly or not, she would throw you in jail. She can't stand to hear about you, as she says, or about the other one in particular, and she told me straight out that she would feel worse this month because I came without you, and asked me why you couldn't have come from there just like I did."

"She says you are hated by all the top people on that side and cursed by God in everything you do since Mr. Lawson has been with you...."

"When you have received your supplies, make your way back home, so you don’t end up shortening her life. She told me that the daily sorrow caused by your presence will lead to her end; she also said that her jewels are gone because of you and that she borrowed the last money from seven different people."

"That much I must admit to you as a conclusion: I have never seen, nor will I ever see, a wise lady, an honorable woman, or a mother more troubled by her son's absence than I have seen that honorable woman for yours."^[155]

It wasn't just a general dislike of Roman Catholics that made committed Protestants want to keep their sons from traveling abroad towards the end of Elizabeth's reign; it was also a very real and justified fear of the Inquisition and the Jesuits. During the war with Spain, any Englishman found on Spanish land was considered a prisoner for ransom; and since Spanish territory included Sicily, Naples, and Milan, and Rome was under the influence of Spain's patron, the Pope, Italy was hardly safe for Englishmen and Protestants. Even when peace with Spain was established with the rise of James I., Inquisition spies were always on the lookout for any reason to arrest travelers, trying to force them to choose between renouncing their faith or facing imprisonment and torture. For example, there’s a letter to Salisbury from one of his agents in Europe, regarding advances made to him by the Pope's envoy, aimed at enticing some notable Englishman—like young Lord Roos or Lord Cranborne—into papal territories, where he could be captured and held to potentially secure the release of Baldwin the Jesuit.^[156] William Bedell, who was about to travel to Italy as chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton, the Ambassador to Venice, eagerly asks a friend which route would be best to take to Italy. "I've heard that the Inquisition is in Milan, and that if a person doesn't bow low at every cross, they could end up in prison.... Please send me a note of the main towns I need to pass through. I’m not interested in sightseeing; I just want to get there the shortest and safest way."^[157]

Bedell's fears were justified, as the following year saw the arrest of the unfortunate Mr. Mole, whose case became one of the highlights of the day. Fuller, in his Church History, notes under the year 1607 how--

"About this time, Mr. Molle, the Governor to Lord Ross during his travels, started his unfortunate journey overseas.... He was appointed by Thomas, Earl of Exeter, to be the Governor during the travels of his grandchild, Lord Ross, reluctantly taking on the role (as a sign of bad luck) and with a promise and determination not to cross the Alps."

"But a Vagari took Lord Ross to Rome, even though some believe this idea originated from more troublesome minds. Mr. Molle tried in vain to dissuade him; now so determined, he wanted to have some control over his governor. What could this good man do? Leaving him would mean abandoning his duty, while going along with him would put his own life at risk. In the end, his feelings for his charge overcame his judgment, and reluctantly, he went with him. No matter how they traveled to Rome, word of their arrival reached ahead of them; as soon as they checked into their inn, officials asked for Mr. Molle and took him to the Inquisition House, where he remained a prisoner while Lord Ross was entertained and celebrated daily. Some even claim that here he didn't change his religion for a worse one."^[158]

No threats could convince Mr. Mole to give up his beliefs, and even though there were many efforts to swap him for some Jesuits captured in England, he spent thirty years in an Inquisition prison and died there at the age of eighty-one.

It was part of the Jesuits' strategy, according to Sir Henry Wotton, to keep their tutors away from young men, and then shower the students with attention and flattery to persuade them to join the Church of Rome. Shortly after the capture of Mole, Wotton writes to Salisbury about another similar case.

"My Lord Wentworth^[159] on May 18th, heading towards Venice ... was accompanied by his brother-in-law Mr. Henry Crafts, one Edward Lichefeld, their governor, and a couple of other Englishmen. While they were having supper in Bologna on the night of their arrival, two Dominican Friars, along with the town's sergeants, came and took Lichefeld and all his papers to the Inquisition prison, where he still remains.^[160] This incident stands as it is in its basic facts, not different, except for the location, from what happened to Mr. Mole in Rome. And undoubtedly (as we gather now from the situation), if Sir John Harington^[161] had either taken the Roman journey or the usual route from Tuscany, the same would have happened to his director, a gentleman of great capability;^[162] for it seems to be a new strategy (influenced by the Pope's artisans, the Jesuits) to separate their guides from our young noblemen (which they focus on the most) and then treat them (from what I can gather) with kindness and security, but still restrain them (when they get to Rome) from leaving without permission; this approach has been applied to both the Lords Rosse and St. Johns, and with Lord Wentworth and his brother-in-law during their stay there. Currently, we have a similar situation or two with German barons of our faith, whose governors are imprisoned in Rome and Ferrara; it seems this is turning into a pattern. And although those mentioned have escaped from that Babylon (as far as I can see) without any bad consequences, it certainly appears very risky to leave our travelers in this situation; especially being spread out in the smaller towns of Italy (where the language draws them most) with certain quick-witted individuals acting as interceptors, who inform their contacts in Rome about the intentions of gentlemen before they arrive, thus subjecting them to both persuasion through arguments and charm."^[163]

JOHN HARINGTON, SECOND BARON HARINGTON OF EXTON His letters from his travels in 1604 were seen as outstanding.

Wotton didn't think the Jesuits were as convincing as others did. Lord Roos converted to Catholicism.^[164]

Wotton's nephew, Pickering, was converted in Spain on his deathbed, even though, according to Jesuit records, he had been "very stubborn about the corrupt religion he had absorbed since childhood."^[165] In his travels "through most of France, Italy, Spain, and Germany to learn both the languages and the customs, which was an ancient practice among northern nations, ... he discussed faith with many people, either out of interest or curiosity, and being a smart guy, he never missed an opportunity to gather information."^[166] Through this curiosity, he became friends with Father Walpole from the Jesuit College in Valladolid, and when he fell seriously ill in that city, Walpole came to comfort him.

Another conversion of the same kind had taken place by Father Walpole in Valladolid the year before. Sir Thomas Palmer traveled to Spain to learn the language and explore the country. "While visiting the English College, he spoke casually with the Fathers and began to think seriously about the Catholic religion." While reflecting, he was "stricken by a sudden and serious illness. Realizing he was facing death, he set out to make peace with the Catholic Church. After receiving the last Sacraments, he passed away and was buried with Catholic honors, much to the astonishment of the many English Protestants in the city who attended the funeral."^[167]

There’s nothing surprising about these deathbed conversions when we consider the pressure put on a traveler in an unfamiliar place. As soon as he got sick, the innkeeper called for a priest, and if the sick person refused to see the religious advisor, it revealed his Protestant beliefs. Then, the doctor and pharmacist, along with even the kitchen staff, were forbidden by the priest from helping him unless he rejected his disliked Reformed Religion and accepted Confession, the Sacrament, and Extreme Unction. If he died without these, his body wouldn’t be allowed in consecrated ground and would be buried in the street like a dog. It’s no surprise that sometimes an Englishman, alone and dying, underwent a conversion.^[168]

We should also remember how many so-called Protestants only pretended to follow the Church of England for practical reasons. They couldn’t pursue any profession or hold any public office without doing so. But their hearts still belonged to the old faith, and they planned to return to it in the end.^[169] Sometimes the most devoted Protestants, when ill, would "relapse into papistry." The Protestant religion was new, but the Roman Church was the faith of their ancestors. In their final moments, people often revert to old loyalties. This explains, at least in part, the case of Sir Francis Cottington, Ambassador to Spain, who fell ill, confessed to being a Catholic, and when he got better, returned to being a Protestant.^[170]

The influence of the environment, according to Sir Charles Cornwallis, Ambassador to Spain from 1605-1609, was enough to change the beliefs of impressionable minds. His reports to England show a continuous effort to keep his group of young gentlemen loyal to their national Church.^[171]

The Spanish Court was then in Valladolid, where a particularly strong College of Jesuits thrived. From there, Walpole and other persuasive figures launched attacks on Cornwallis's camp. Initially, the Ambassador felt optimistic:--

"Much has Creswell and others from that Society" (the Jesuits) "worked hard here in discussions and persuasion with the gentlemen who came to meet his Excellency^[172] and secretly brag about their success. I've discovered that two of my own followers have been corrupted; one refused to attend prayers, so I let him go immediately. The other is a decent and responsible young man who doesn't hesitate to be present at both prayers and preaching, and I still keep him around, hoping that I can bring him back in time."^[173]

But within a month, he has to report that Sir Thomas Palmer has converted, and within another month, he loses even his own chaplain. "If God were okay with only the young and weak wavering, it would be more bearable," he laments, "but I'm having some doubt about my chaplain himself." He had given the chaplain—one Wadesworth, a good Cambridge Protestant—leave to visit the University of Salamanca. Within a week, the chaplain requested to extend his stay, writing about "a strange storm that came upon him on the way, about visible fire that fell both in front of and behind him, about an expectation of imminent death, and about a vow he made during that time of danger." This way of writing, along with reports from others that he had secretly visited the Jesuit College, makes Cornwallis fear the worst. "I would think he was born at a very unfortunate moment," he cries, "to become the cause of such a scandal."^[174] But his fears were confirmed. The chaplain never returned. He had converted to Roman Catholicism.

The reasons for the rise of Catholicism during James I's reign aren't our focus here. To understand the unsettled tone of our Precepts for Travellers, we just need to point out that Protestantism was losing ground thanks to the dedicated efforts of the Jesuits. Even in England, they managed to capture the admiration of young people and channel their enthusiasm for their own ends. But in Spain and Italy, aided by their impressive surroundings and the visible strength of the Roman Church, they were much more influential. The English Jesuits in Rome—many of whom were Oxford scholars—caught the attention of their university friends or fellow countrymen visiting Italy, offering to show them the historical sites and serve as guides and interpreters.^[175] Through these methods, travelers were drawn into the company of these charming companions, until their spiritual and intellectual influence left a lasting impression on them.^[176]

How much the English Government feared the Jesuits' influence on young men abroad can be seen in the increasing strictness of travel licenses. The standard license that everyone except known merchants had to get from a magistrate before leaving England in 1595 allowed travel but under the condition that the traveler "does not visit or go to the territories or domains of any foreign prince or ruler not allied or friendly with us, nor knowingly associate with anyone adversely disposed to our State."^[177] However, attempts to keep Englishmen out of Italy were generally ineffective, and the conditions were often ignored. Lord Zouche complained a lot about the limitations of his license. "I can't decide," he wrote to Burghley in 1591, "if I should risk violating that part of the license that generally prohibits me from traveling to certain countries and associating with various people.... This restriction truly feels like imprisonment, as I don’t know how to conduct myself; I don’t know if I can travel through the lands of the Lords of Venice and the Duke of Florence, since I’m not sure if they are allied with Her Majesty or not."^[178] Bishop Hall was likely correct when he said that travelers usually ignored the warnings about the king's enemies, and that having a limited license was just a verbal formality.^[179] King James remarked that "many of the gentry and others from our kingdom, under the guise of traveling for experience, cross the Alps, and instead of being satisfied with staying in Lombardy or Tuscany to learn the language, they flock to Rome out of vanity and curiosity to see the antiquities of that city; where they fall into the company of priests and Jesuits ... and return to their countries both opposed to religion and unfriendly toward our State and Government."^[180]

To get to our Travel Tips, as presented during the reign of James I, they are filled, as expected, with warnings about the Inquisition and the Jesuits. Sir Robert Dallington, in his Method for Travell,^[181] prioritizes the issue of staying true to one’s faith:

"About the Traveler's religion, I won't say what it should be, (as that's beyond my area of expertise;) I just hope he follows the religion established here. My advice is to firmly settle in that belief, and no matter how much his mind may wander through the various discussions of others, his deepest thoughts should always remain focused like lines in a circle on this unchanging point, without altering his initial faith. I know that just like all changes can be risky for a state, this shift can also be risky for an individual. It's concerning that someone who holds one religion in their youth and another in adulthood may end up with none in their old age....

"I will mention a gentleman I knew abroad, who was open and passionate about the religion he practiced at home. While he was in France, he was very committed to it, but within twenty days of being in Italy, he had completely changed his views. Since his return, he has gone back to his original stance. Now, what can one say about such people except what the philosopher says about a friend, 'A friend to everyone, a friend to no one,' a follower of both but a believer in neither.^[182]

"The next warning is to be careful about hearing anything that goes against his religion: just as I have tied his tongue, I need to stop his ears, so they aren't open to the smooth talk of a sly seducer or the subtle arguments of a tricky opponent. To this end, I must strictly forbid him from associating with a particular group of people in general: these are the Jesuits, who undermine and manipulate naive individuals, leading people astray in matters of faith and disrupting individuals in matters of state, making someone a poor Christian and an even worse citizen. I want my Traveler to never hear from these men, except in the pulpit; for^[183] being eloquent, they speak excellently; and being wise, they know best how to speak effectively, so they rarely, if ever, discuss controversial topics."

Our best source from this time of travel is Fynes Moryson, whose Precepts for Travellers^[184] are particularly detailed. Moryson is known as one of the most seasoned travelers of the late Elizabethan era. On a travel fellowship from Peterhouse College, Cambridge, from 1591 to 1595, he toured Europe when the continent was full of dangers for Englishmen. Spain and the Inquisition threatened Italy and the Low Countries; France was overrun with desperate marauding soldiers; Germany was home to robbers and bandits in every forest. Moryson took particular pleasure in facing these dangers and then figuring out ways to escape them. He never hesitated to see whatever piqued his curiosity, no matter how forbidden and risky the adventure. Disguised as a German, he managed to sneak inside a Spanish fort;^[185] posing as a Frenchman, he entered the Jesuit College in Rome.^[186] He navigated through German robbers by dressing as a poor Bohemian, without a cloak or sword, with his hands tucked into his pants and an ingratiating expression.^[187] His successes were due more to cleverness than to reckless bravery. For example, when French soldiers stripped him of even his inner doublet, in which he had sewn his money, he was still not left without funds, as he had hidden some gold crowns in a box of "stinking ointment" that the soldiers discarded in disgust.^[188]

His Precepts for Travellers are typically clever. Never tell anyone you can swim, he advises, because if there’s a shipwreck, "others trusting in that will grab hold of you and drag you down with them."^[189] He takes a sensible approach to duels and feelings of injury in foreign lands. "I advise young men to tone down their tendency to fight, or they might end up perishing because of it. Not all of us are like Amadis or Rinalldo, able to take on a whole group of men."^[190] This paragraph about finding a place to stay at night is very thoughtful:

"In all inns, but especially in shady places, he should lock his room door; he should be cautious of his roommates and always keep his sword by his side or by his bed. He should keep his wallet under his pillow, but folded with his garters or something he uses first thing in the morning, so he doesn't forget to put it away before leaving his room. And to make sure he doesn't leave anything behind in his inn, checking his room and gathering his belongings should be the last thing he does before he steps into the stirrup."^[191]

The entire set of guidelines shows a lot of caution. As Moryson rightly points out, travelers face more dangers than pleasures, so it’s better to travel alone than with a friend. "In dangerous places, whether due to different religions or open conflict, having a countryman or friend along can significantly increase your risks, both because of your companion's beliefs if you get caught and for other unforeseen incidents, since you will be held accountable and drawn into trouble because of your companion's actions as much as your own. And indeed, when many dangers and hardships arise along the way, some people become so frustrated that not only do they lose the comfort they should gain from being together, but like dogs hurt by a stone, they end up snapping at the one next to them instead of the one who threw the stone, possibly leading to bitterness and arguments between themselves.”^[192] Instead of a companion, the traveler should keep a good book under their pillow to ease the boring solitude of inns—“always making sure it doesn’t cover politics, religion, or any topic that might put them in jeopardy.”^[193] Random road companions shouldn't be trusted. To avoid getting too familiar with them, the traveler should always say they are only going as far as the next city. Once there, they can slip away and find new company.

Moryson, when he had to travel with others, preferred Germans—kind, honest men who shared his faith. He could speak German well enough to blend in, but worried that even a single word might give away his nationality to the sharp-eyed guards at the city gates. So, he made a plan with his companions: whenever he needed to answer questions, they would interrupt him quickly, speaking over him as if being rude. If he got caught, they would claim they didn't know him and make a run for it.^[194]

Moryson advised travelers to visit Rome and Naples first because those cities were the most dangerous. Men who stay in Padua for a few months and then try to go to Rome can be sure that the Jesuits and priests there will have been informed, not just about their arrival but also about their condition and appearance through spies in Padua. It's wise to change your living situation frequently to avoid the inquiries from priests. During Easter in Rome, Moryson found plenty of opportunities for his talents. A few days before Easter, a priest came to his lodgings and wrote down the names of the residents so they could receive the Sacrament with the host's family. Moryson left Rome on the Tuesday before Easter, arrived in Siena on Good Friday, and on Easter Eve "(pretending to be busy)" quickly went to Florence for the day. On Monday morning, he slipped away to Pisa, and the next day, he returned to Siena. "By frequently changing locations, I avoided the priests looking for me, which is particularly dangerous around Easter when everyone receives the Sacrament."^[195]

The idea of travel that Fynes Moryson presents is that of an exhilarating sport, like a chase across Europe, where the traveler is the fox, dodging and weaving and seeking cover, while his friends in England bet three to one on his demise. Travel was so perilous at this time that betting on the return of daring gentlemen became a trendy form of gambling.^[196] Moryson explains that this custom originated in Germany and was first practiced in England at Court and among "very Noble men." Moryson himself wagered £100 to win £300 on his return; however, by 1595, when he considered making a second trip, he refused to take the bet again because ridiculous journeys were already being made by bankrupts and unscrupulous men seeking insurance money.

Sir Henry Wotton was a well-known product of foreign education in these dangerous times. As a student of political economy in 1592, he lived a precarious life, secretly visiting Rome while using elaborate disguises. During his years abroad, he absorbed stories of cunning and craft from seasoned Italian courtiers, becoming skilled at navigating intrigue himself. Naturally imaginative and clever, plots and counterplots captured his artistic talent, and as the English Ambassador to Venice, he never grew tired of creating them or attributing them to others. This tendency among Jacobean politicians was what Ben Jonson mocked in Sir Politick-Would-be, who shared his knowledge of secret intelligence with Peregrine in Venice. Excited by the mention of a certain priest in England, Sir Politick explains:

"He has been getting weekly updates
From what I know, out of the Low Countries,
For all parts of the world, in cabbages;
And these are handed out again to ambassadors,
In oranges, musk melons, apricots--,
Lemons, pomelos, and similar things: sometimes
In Colchester oysters, and your Selsey cockles."^[197]

Later on, Sir Politick gives advice for travelers:

"I’ve noted a few details,
Just for this moment, that are worth knowing
About your inexperienced traveler....
First, your outfit should be serious and solemn,
Very reserved and discreet; reveal no secrets
Under any circumstances; not even to your father: barely
A fable, but do so cautiously: make careful choices
Regarding your companions and conversations; be cautious
Never speak a truth--
Peregrine. What?!
Sir P. Not to strangers,
Because those are the ones you’ll interact with the most;
I would prefer to know others only from a distance,
So that I can remain safe from them:
You’ll also have tricks played on you constantly.
And as for your beliefs, claim none,
But marvel at the variety of all." ^[198]

Sir Henry Wotton's letter to Milton shouldn’t be overlooked in discussions about Jacobean travel advice. It's short but very telling, capturing the atmosphere of plots and caution. Respected for his extensive experience and long stays abroad, Sir Henry, as Provost of Eton in his later years, was frequently sought out by fathers preparing to send their sons on the Grand Tour. Forty-eight years after he himself traveled overseas, he shared with young John Milton, "in procinct of his travels," his favorite piece of wisdom, learned from a Roman courtier familiar with Italian ways: "I pensieri stretti e il viso sciolto."^[199] Milton didn’t adhere to this Machiavellian advice to keep his "thoughts close and his countenance loose," as Wotton translates it,^[200] and was soon targeted by the Inquisition; however, he took pride in receiving advice from Sir Henry Wotton and boasted about the "elegant letter" and "exceedingly useful precepts" that the Provost gave him upon his departure for Italy.^[201]

So much for the cautionary advice for travelers at the start of the seventeenth century. Italy was still seen as a breeding ground for "naive young people." Bishop Hall took over from Ascham in criticizing young men's travels who claimed they were pursuing "the glory of fine breeding and the refinement of what we call civility." Allowed to go abroad at a young age, "these greenhorns, who leave their safe home with naive ideas, run wild." They rush south to Italy, where they encounter the "proud spectacle of extravagant ceremonies, which easily captivate the hearts of children and fools." To the persuasive influence of the Jesuits, Hall dedicates several pages and makes a passionate appeal to the authorities to stop Englishmen from traveling.

Parents could easily panic at the thought of their sons converting to Catholicism. The consequences of being a Roman Catholic in England were enough to make any ambitious father fear his son’s potential recusancy. While a gentleman or nobleman didn’t face the risk of being hanged, quartered, or subjected to brutal punishments like those given to active and dangerous priests, he would be seen as a traitor if he admitted to being a Romanist. At any moment of anti-Catholic fervor, he could be arrested and thrown in prison. Even worse than prison would be the social isolation he experienced. He would be cut off from his peers and have no real place in English society. Under James's laws, he was excluded from participating in the Government, could hold no public office, and couldn’t practice any profession. The fields of law, medicine, the army, parliament, or university were closed to him. Banished from London and the Court, avoided by his contemporaries, he might hide in some country house, sometimes terribly lonely, sometimes harassed by officers searching for priests. Ultimately, he often ended up abroad, living as an exile, shunned by his countrymen, who found him lingering at foreign Courts; or he sought refuge in a monastery and was buried there. Of course, the laws against recusants were not always enforced uniformly; Catholicism among favorites and friends of the king was overlooked, and wealthy noblemen who could afford to pay fines often didn’t face severe consequences. Nevertheless, for the average gentleman, converting to Catholicism usually meant disappearing from society. "Mr. Lewknor," Father Gerard writes to Father Owen,^[203] "has recently resolved to join the Society of Jesus, and being as well-known in England and the Court as he is, he cannot stay concealed in the English College in Rome; and his father, who is morally certain to lose his position,^[204] which earns him £1000 a year, therefore plans to come privately to Liege, where I have no doubt I can keep him completely unknown."

The warnings from their elders didn't stop young men from going to Italy, but as the seventeenth century progressed, the situation there made the country less appealing than France. The fact that the average Englishman was a Protestant created a divide between him and his Italian counterparts, which dampened social interactions. He might be politely and formally received by Italian princes, maybe because of a political uncle or cousin back in England, but underlying distrust and suspicion prevented any genuine friendship. Unless the Englishman secretly leaned towards Catholicism, there couldn't be much comfortable camaraderie between him and the Italians during the Puritan era. John Milton, the charming young man known for his excellent Latin poetry, was certainly welcomed into Florence's literary scene, and there were a few other exceptions, but the typical traveler during the Stuart period was a young gentleman sent to France to gain refinement, hoping to make a name for himself at Court, just like his widowed mother sent George Villiers, who later became the Duke of Buckingham. Englishmen who traveled for "complete refinement" continued to go to Italy out of curiosity, but more as tourists. Only discontented individuals, like Bothwell, the Earl of Arundel, or Leicester's disinherited son, stayed in Italy for long stretches. Young aspiring individuals, looking for social education, mostly rushed to France.

For it wasn’t just the feeling of being surrounded by enemies that made the Englishman’s loyalty to Italy waver in the seventeenth century, but also the growing appeal of another country. By 1616, it was said of France that “To no other country, more than to this, do so many young gentlemen, merchants, and others flock each year from all Christian nations: some drawn from their parents' homes by the desire for learning; some by the pursuit of rare knowledge or new ideas; some for pleasure; and others enticed by profit and gain.... But among all other nations, no other country sends as many people to France each year as this Isle (England), including gentlemen, students, merchants, and others.”^[205]

Under the peaceful rule of Henry of Navarre, France became a happier place than Italy for the English traveler. Germany was off-limits due to the Thirty Years' War, and Spain, for reasons we'll explore later, was not appealing. Although France was officially Roman Catholic, it was actually half Protestant. Additionally, the French Court was vibrant and glamorous, far outshining the impoverished Italian princes. This suited the young nobles of the Stuart era, who found the serious manners of the Italians a bit dull. The pursuit of knowledge, which once drew men to Italy, was no longer limited to that region. The Cavaliers didn't seek precise classical education; they just needed an understanding of mythology from French translations. Skills like riding, fencing, and dancing were what really helped them succeed at Court or in military camps. The best training for these skills had moved from Italy to France.

A shift had occurred in what it meant to be a gentleman—a reaction against the Tudor passion for education. A long time had passed since Henry VIII attempted to make his children as knowledgeable as Erasmus, bringing in the most scholarly figures from Oxford and Cambridge to teach them. The somewhat reduced value placed on book learning in the household of Charles I is evident in a letter from the Earl of Newcastle, who was the governor to Prince Charles,^[206] where he writes to his student:

"I don't want you to be too focused on studying, because overthinking can hinder action, and that's where true virtue lies." The model for the Prince should be the Bishop of Chichester, his tutor, who "shows no signs of being pretentious: he uses his knowledge wisely, not letting it bother him or his friends: ... understands people just as well as he understands books: ... has traveled, which you'll notice in his wisdom and demeanor more than from his stories; and in short, he tries to discreetly hide his scholarly side, while others flaunt their foolishness: and he is a true gentleman."^[207]

FENCING An essential part of a British person's education overseas.

Of pedantry, however, there never seems to have been any danger in court circles, either in Tudor or Stuart times. It took constant reminders to get most noblemen's sons to learn anything out of books. For centuries, the traits of a gentleman were bravery, courtesy, and a good seat in the saddle, and it wasn't expected that a sudden trend in literature could change that. Ascham had claimed that the young nobles of Elizabeth's time thought it shameful to be educated because the "Gentlemen of France" were not. When the general decline of high effort showed in many ways at the court of James I, mastering Greek authors was no longer an ideal for courtiers; the Jacobean gallant was hardly more intellectual than the medieval page. Henry Peacham, in 1623, noted noblemen's dwindling faith in a university education. They sent their sons to Oxford or Cambridge at a young age, and if the youngsters didn't immediately grasp philosophy, they declared the boys had no talent for learning and took them to a dancing school. "These young things," as he refers to the Oxford students "of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen, who care only to wait for the next Carrier, and where to eat on Fridays and Fasting nights," find "such a mismatch between Aristotle's Categories and their childish capacities that, along with the freedom of liberty, variety of company, and so many kinds of recreation in town and countryside," they give up any attempt to understand "the complex foundations of the Arts." Whereupon, the parents, "if they notice any wildness or restlessness in their children, are immediately in despair, out of all hope of them ever becoming scholars or fit for anything else; they neither consider the nature of youth nor the effect of time, which is the healer of all. To make matters worse, they send them either to the Court to serve as Pages or to France and Italy to observe fashions and improve their manners, where they end up ten times worse.

The influence of France would definitely not be about books. The French gentlemen were brave, bold, and impressive, but not well-read. Reading actually made them feel sick: “reading makes their heads spin,” as Brézé admitted.^[210] Rejecting a life spent indoors, they handed all civil positions to the middle class and focused solely on warfare. As the Vicomte D'Avenel succinctly stated:

"It would have seemed as odd to see someone of high status, like the Treasurer of France, the Controller of Finance, or the Rector of a University, as it would be to see him as a cloth merchant or a pottery maker... The poorest younger son of an old family, who wouldn’t hesitate to be a page for a noble or a regular soldier, would have considered himself lowered by taking a job as a secretary to an ambassador."^[211]

Brute force was still seen as the highest power in the world, even when Sully was Conseiller d'Etat, although visionary individuals like Eustache Deschamps had predicted that a time would come when common people would govern France using their cleverness, simply because the nobility refused to educate themselves.^[212] Despite warnings from the wise Bras-de-Fer that glory and physical strength were temporary, while knowledge was the only truly lasting quality,^[213] parents continued to believe it was a bad idea to spend money on education for their sons as long as they saw handsome horsemen receiving honors at Court. When a boy returned to Court from the university, he found himself overshadowed by young pages who could barely read but had killed someone in a duel and danced flawlessly.^[214] It seemed that military training and physical skills were the most valuable assets.

The martial style that France developed impressed other nations, and it’s not surprising that under the Stuarts, who adopted French customs, the English Court was particularly receptive to French ideals. Our guidance for travelers reflects the shift from the typical Elizabethan courtier, "somewhat solemn, coy, big and dangerous in appearance," to the relaxed demeanor of the cavalier. A Method for Travell, written while Elizabeth was still queen, praises Italian behavior. "I would rather," it says about the traveler, "he should come home Italianate than Frenchified: I speak of both in the better sense: for the French is lively, bold, disrespectful, unpredictable, sudden: the Italian is composed, modest, respectful, serious, thoughtful."^[215] But Instructions for Forreine Travell in 1642 encourages one to emulate the French. "For the Gentry of France possess a kind of relaxed, fitting boldness, and spirited vivacity in their manners."^[216]

The first travel advice writer who believes that French culture should be a significant part of a traveler’s education is Sir Robert Dallington, whom we've already mentioned. His View of France^[217], which has the Method for Travel prefixed, deserves to be reprinted, as both that work and his Survey of Tuscany^[218], while following the standard model of the Elizabethan traveler’s "Relation," are a detailed account of the main geographical, economic, architectural, and social aspects of the countries visited, and are more artistic than typical formal reports. Dallington wrote these Views in 1598, just before the generation that began to model itself on the French gallants, and his comments on the French men may have served as a caution to courtiers not to copy the quirks, along with the admirable traits, of their counterparts across the Channel. For example, he is appalled by the enthusiastic nature of the "violent, busy-headed and impatient Frenchman," who "shows his lightness and inconsistency ... in nothing more than in his familiarity, with whom a stranger can hardly get off his horse before he becomes acquainted: nor as soon as in his Chamber, will the other, like a monkey, be on his shoulder: and as suddenly and without reason you shall love him too. A childish attitude, to be won over by as little as an Apple and lost with less than a Nut."^[219] The King of France himself is criticized for his friendliness. Dallington considers Henry of Navarre "more affable and familiar than suits the Majesty of a great King." He might have found more serious missteps in the current gossip than the two he mentions to illustrate Henry's lack of formality, but it is part of Dallington's value that he writes from first-hand experience and shares only what he himself observed; for instance, at Orleans, when the Italian comedians were set to perform before him, the king himself "came whiffling with a small wand to clear the area and make space for the common Players,... something, I thought, most disrespectful to the Majesty of a King of France."

"And recently in Paris (as we’ve heard) when the Spanish Hostages were to be entertained, he ushered them in the grand Chamber, just as he had done before; and noticing that the chair wasn’t positioned properly under the throne, he adjusted it nicely himself, and then sat down to give them his attention."^[220]

Dallington can’t hide his dislike for foreign food. The struggles of the meat-loving Englishman in Europe were always intense. Dallington is just one of many travelers who, unable to accept that warmer regions required lighter meals, criticized the Italians for their “stinginess and light meals.” In Henry the Eighth's time, there was already a saying among Italians: “Give the Englishman his beef and mustard,”^[221] while the English mocked Italians for being “like Nebuchadnezzar—always nibbling on greens.” “Herbs,” Dallington scoffs, “are the most common food of the Tuscan... for every load of meat eaten, there are ten cartloads of greens and roots, as their open markets and private tables show, and if you talk to them while they're hungry, you'll see it clearly.”^[222] He dismisses the entire topic of diet in his advice to travelers, saying: “As for his food, I’m not worried about him overeating; there’s never so much that you can't let him eat as much as he wants... I won’t need to tell him beforehand what his diet will be; his appetite will make it better than it is: he’ll always stay hungry. He should just note this about different diets: the German diet is heavy or rather excessive; the French diet is acceptable; the Italian diet is tolerable; with the Dutch, he’ll get poorly cooked food; with the French, less food but well prepared; with the Italians, neither of those.”^[223]

Though there is a lot in Dallington's description of Italy and France that deserves attention, we're focused on his Method for Travell,^[224] which, while more practical than the earlier Elizabethan essays of the same kind, starts off in the typical style of encouragement:

"Plato, one of the shining stars of knowledge, which was just beginning to emerge but has since shown with greater clarity, believed that nothing was better for improving our understanding than Travel: both by engaging with knowledgeable people across various fields and through personal observation. The firsthand experience of things that one can only learn through tradition; a shaky foundation in either knowledge or morality. Therefore, a desire to travel, if it's not just for pleasure but for purpose, indicates a hardworking and generous mind. Ordinary and common-minded people stay close to home; those who are more noble and enlightened imitate the heavens and find joy in movement."

After a warning about Jesuits, which we quoted, he immediately gives clear advice on studying modern languages^[225]—advice that, while solid, isn't exactly new. Constantly talking with all kinds of people, insisting that his teacher should not do all the talking, and steering clear of his fellow countrymen are unchangeable rules for anyone who travels for language.^[226] However, this is the first travel guide that mentions dancing as a vital skill. "There's another skill to learn in France, where the teachers are better, and the French style is most popular with us, which is dancing. This I mean for my young traveler who intends to attend the Court; otherwise, I think it's unnecessary and somewhat foolish."^[227] This skill was indeed crucial for courtiers and taken very seriously. Chamberlain reports that Sir Henry Bowyer died from the intense exercise he did while practicing dancing.^[228] Henri III broke into tears and called the Grand Prieur a liar, coward, and villain at a ball because the Grand Prieur was heard to mutter, "Unless you dance better, I wish you had your money back for what your dancing has cost you." ^[229] James I was particularly keen for his "Babies" to excel in complicated dance moves. His copy of Nuove Inventioni di Balli^[230] can be found in the British Museum, with large illustrations showing how to "gettare la gamba," which, in Chaucer's words, means "to cast one's legs to and fro."^[231] Prince Henry was skilled in these things. The Spanish Ambassador reported how "The Prince of Wales was requested by his royal parents to open the ball with a Spanish gallarda: he performed with great grace and finesse, incorporating some occasional jumps."^[232] Prince Charles and Buckingham, during their time in Spain, were earnestly asked by their "dear Dad and Gossip" not to forget their dancing. "I pray you, my baby, be careful of getting hurt if you joust... I pray you in the meantime keep up your practice of dancing privately, even if you should whistle and sing to each other like Jack and Tom for lack of better music." ^[233]

DANCING An illustration from 'Nuove Inventione di Baili,' an Italian book of instructions in dancing, highly valued by James I

However, Dallington is really against older people dancing. "I remember a countryman of ours, well-versed in arts and language, quite advanced in years, mourning for his second wife, a father of marriageable children, who, along with his other book studies abroad, also took up dancing: it was his misfortune at an honorable Ball (as they call it) to fall, which, in my opinion, was not as disgraceful as the dancing itself, for a man of his stature."^[234]

Dallington would have criticized the French even more harshly if he had known that even Sully indulged in a passion for dancing in private. At least Tallemant des Réaux mentions that "every evening a royal chamberlain played the lute with the latest dances, and M. de Sully danced all alone, wearing some sort of extraordinary hat—like the one he always wore in his study—while his friends applauded, even though he was the clumsiest man in the world."^[235]

Tennis is another courtly exercise where Dallington advises moderation. "This can be dangerous, (if played too aggressively) for the body; and (if pursued too diligently,) for the wallet. A main concern for travelers." He arrived in France when the popularity of tennis was at its peak—when there were two hundred and fifty tennis courts in Paris,^[236]—and "two tennis courts for every church throughout France," according to his calculations.^[237] Everyone was participating—nobles, tradespeople, women, and children. The monks even had to be told not to play—especially, as the decree stated, "not in public while wearing just their shirts."^[238] Our Englishman, naturally, thought this enthusiasm was excessive. "You've seen them playing sets of tennis in the heat of summer and at the height of the day, when others could barely step outside." Betting on the game was ruining the working man, who "spends on holidays at tennis what he earned the entire week to support his poor family. A more harmful thing than our alehouses in England."^[239]

"There are two other important exercises," says the Method for Travell, "that are essential for someone who wants to return well-prepared for their country's service in war and for their personal defense in private disputes. These are Riding and Fencing. The best place for the first (aside from Naples) is in Florence under il Signor Rustico, the Grand Duke's Riding Master, and for the second (aside from Rome) is in Padua, under il Sordo."^[240] It can be noted that Italy was still the top place for these skills. Pluvinel would soon create a world-famous riding academy in Paris, but the art of fencing spread more slowly. One was still required, like Captain Bobadil, to "travel far for knowledge in that mystery alone."^[241] Brantome mentions that the fencing masters of Italy kept their secrets closely guarded, offering their teachings only on the condition that students never disclose what they had learned, even to their closest friends. Some instructors would never allow anyone else in the room during a lesson. Even then, they would look everywhere, under the beds, and inspect the walls to check for any cracks or holes through which someone could spy.^[242] Dallington, however, makes no further comments on the subject apart from the above, and after some advice regarding finances, which we will discuss in another context, and a warning to the traveler that their clothing must be fashionable—since styles change very quickly, and the French were quite disdainful of anyone showing up in an outdated outfit^[243]—he concludes one of the most pointed essays in our collection.

When France's influence on the ideals of a gentleman was firmly established, James Howell wrote his Instructions for Forreine Travell,^[244] and in this book, for the first time, travelers are recommended to stay at one of the French academies—or riding schools, as they actually were.

His is probably the best-known of all our writings, partly because it was recently reprinted by Mr. Gosse, and partly because of its own qualities. Howell had a more relaxed, forgiving view of the world than Dallington, and he could see all nations with equal humor—his own included. Take his comparison of the Frenchman and the Spaniard.

The Frenchman handles important matters while walking down the street or at meals, while a Spaniard will retreat to a room for the smallest business issue, and if a fly happens to buzz around him, it will throw off his concentration and confuse him. For a Frenchman, keeping a secret for a long time is almost like an illness, and no amount of drugs from Egypt can get a Spaniard to reveal one. The Frenchman walks quickly, as if he has a sergeant always right behind him, while the Spaniard moves slowly, as if he’s just recovered from a fever. The French crowd the streets in a chaotic manner, while Spaniards, if they’re in groups of three or more, walk two by two, like they’re in a procession; etc. etc.^[245]

With the same humorous perspective, he watches the Englishmen returning to London from Paris, "who, with their swagger and strutting, their bent knees and shoulders, and the way they look at their legs while skipping and singing, clearly show that they are Travelers.... Some come back wearing huge, ridiculous wigs, which are the Golden Fleece they bring back with them. Such people, I say, are a disgrace to their country abroad, their relatives at home, and to their parents, Benonies, the sons of sorrow: and like Jonah in the whale's belly, they traveled a lot but saw very little."^[246]

These are some of the benefits an English person will gain from traveling abroad:

"One should learn not to interrupt someone while they are telling their story, or to add random comments: One should also learn not to laugh at their own joke, like so many do, like a hen that can't lay an egg without cackling."

"Moreover, one should learn not to ride so wildly as people usually do in England, when there’s no real need for it; because the Italians have a saying that a galloping horse is an open grave. And people from other countries generally notice that the English tend to ride at such high speeds as if they were rushing for a midwife, or a doctor, or to get a pardon to save their life on the way to execution, when there’s really nothing at stake, which makes them call England the Hell of Horses."

"In these warm countries, one will also learn to give up the strange habit that is unique to the English, which sets them apart from other nations: the tendency to lean toward the fireplace, even during the hottest days of summer."^[247]

We don’t need to go into detail about Howell's book since it's so easy to get. The part that really highlights the advancement of travel for education is this:

"For private gentlemen and cadets, there are various academies in Paris, similar to colleges, where for 150 pistols a year, which is about £150 in our money, you can be well accommodated with lodging and meals for yourself and your servant, and learn to ride, fence, handle weapons, dance, vault, and study mathematics."^[248]

These academies were one of the main attractions that France had for the English gentry in the seventeenth century. The first one was founded by Pluvinel, the grand écuyer of Henri IV. After training for a long time with Pignatelli in Naples, Pluvinel created his own riding school, which became the best in the world, so the French no longer needed to travel to Italian masters. He secured the basement of the great gallery of the Louvre from the king and taught Louis XIII. and other young nobles of the court, including the Marquis du Chillon, who later became Cardinal Richelieu, to ride the great horse.^[249] His riding school was so successful that he hired instructors to teach his students dancing, vaulting, and swordsmanship, as well as drawing and mathematics, until he had provided what was seen as a complete education for a chevalier. Following his model, many other riding masters, like Benjamin, Potrincourt, and Nesmond, established similar schools that attracted students from other nations throughout the seventeenth century.^[250] In the suburb of Pré-aux-clercs, Malingre noted in 1640, "there are several academies where the nobility learn to ride. The most popular is that of M. de Mesmon, which hosts a prince of Denmark and one of the princes palatine of the Rhine, along with many other foreign gentlemen."^[251]

Englishmen found the academies to be very helpful places where a boy could learn French skills without the risks of traveling abroad and get to know young nobles his age. Mr. Thomas Lorkin, writing from Paris in 1610, describes the routine of his student Mr. Puckering^[252] at one of these schools. The morning started with two hours of horseback riding, followed by two hours of French lessons, and one hour of "learning to handle his weapon." Lunch was at noon, and the group would stay together until two, "either chatting or engaging in some proper activity related to arms." At two, a bell rang for dancing, and at three, another bell sent the student and his tutor to their own room to study Latin and French for two hours. "After dinner, a quick review of everything."^[253]

It will be clear that there was a perfect balance between physical and mental exercise—four hours of each. Overall, academies seemed to be the answer for preparing those destined to shine at Court for life. This issue was recognized in England, just like in France. In 1561, Sir Nicholas Bacon created "Articles for the bringing up in virtue and learning of the Queen's Majesties Wardes."^[254] Lord Burghley is said to have suggested setting up a school for arms and exercises.^[255] In 1570, Sir Humphrey Gilbert prepared a detailed proposal for an "Academy of philosophy and chivalry,"^[256] but none of these plans were implemented. Nor was Prince Henry's plan to create a Royal Academy or School of Arms, where all the king's wards and others would be educated and trained.^[257] A certain Sir Francis Kinaston, a gentleman in attendance to Charles I., "more interested in the superficial aspects of learning—poetry and oratory (in which he excelled)—than in logic and philosophy," according to Wood, did get permission to set up an academy in his home in Covent Garden, "which should always be a college for the education of the young nobility and others, sons of gentlemen, and should be named the Musæum Minervæ."^[258] But whatever progress was made in that direction ended with the Civil War.

However, the idea of establishing an academy in England similar to the successful ones in France was so obvious that it kept coming up. In 1649, a courtly hanger-on, Sir Balthazar Gerbier, who had been a miniature painter, art critic, and Master of Ceremonies to Charles I, found himself out of work due to the Civil War. He opened an academy at Bethnal Green. His elaborate advertisements still exist, addressed to "All Fathers of Noble Families and Lovers of Virtue," proposing his school as "a means to save on the costs of sending their children to foreign academies and to help them become more knowledgeable in those languages, without exposing them to the dangers of travel, bad company, or giving other countries the credit for their education."^[259] But Gerbier was an unreliable character, and without court support or funds, his academy fizzled out after a couple of empty lectures. Faubert, another French Protestant refugee, had better luck with an academy he set up in London in 1682, "to reduce the enormous expense the nation incurs each year by sending children to France for military training."^[260] Evelyn, who supported this venture, recounts how he "went with Lord Cornwallis to watch the young gentlemen practice, as Mr. Faubert had just enclosed a riding yard and prepared it for the academy. There were the Dukes of Norfolk and Northumberland, Lord Newburgh, and a nephew of (Duras) Earl of Feversham.... But the Duke of Norfolk told me he hadn't done this exercise in twelve years."^[261] However, Faubert's couldn't have been a significant institution, since in 1700, a certain Dr. Maidwell attempted to persuade the Government to turn one of his large houses near Westminster into a public academy of the French type, seeing it as a much-needed way to train gentlemen.^[262]

But all these attempts to train English boys like the French ones didn’t lead anywhere, because by the end of the seventeenth century, Englishmen began to understand that a gentleman shouldn’t limit himself to a military lifestyle. When it came to riding as an art form, his practical mindset believed it was fine to entertain oneself in Paris by learning how to make a war horse perform fancy moves, but it was pointless to take such things too seriously; in actual combat, "a rougher style of riding was more common, without following the exact rules of riding the big horse."^[263] He couldn’t appreciate the artistic passion for form in horsemanship that flows from the pages of Pluvinel's book Le Maneige Royal^[264], which features stunning engravings of Louis XIII executing courbettes, voltes, and "caprioles" around the Louvre, while a group of noblemen seriously debate the behavior of his horse. Even Sir Philip Sidney lightly mocked the eccentric ideas of his Italian riding master:

"When the honorable Edward Wotton and I were at the Emperor's court together, we decided to learn horsemanship from John Pietro Pugliano, who was highly regarded and held the position of an squire in his stable. He not only demonstrated his skills but also tried to enrich our minds with his insights, which he considered valuable. However, I don’t recall my ears being more burdened than when he spoke passionately about his expertise, whether frustrated by slow payments or moved by our eager admiration. He said that soldiers were the noblest class of mankind, and horsemen were the noblest among soldiers. He claimed they were the masters of war and adornments of peace: swift and strong, triumphant in both camps and courts. In fact, he went so far as to say that nothing amazed a prince more than being a skilled horseman. Knowledge of governance was just trivial in comparison; then he would add further praises by saying what an unparalleled creature a horse was — the only truly useful courtier without flattery, a being of utmost beauty, loyalty, and courage, to the point that if I hadn’t had some training in logic before meeting him, I think he would have convinced me to wish I were a horse."^[265]

There’s no doubt that this was somewhat the attitude of the French academies. While they claimed to provide a balanced amount of physical and mental exercise, they leaned more towards physical training. Pluvinel, according to Tallemant des Réaux, “was hardly more intelligent than his horses,”^[266] and the academies are believed to have declined after his death.^[267] “All that is taught in these Academies,” says Clarendon, “is Riding, Dancing, and Fencing, along with some misdeeds they don't openly admit to teaching. It’s true they have people there who teach Arithmetic, which they call Philosophy, and the Art of Fortification, which they call Mathematics; but the level of education they had there is easy to guess, considering that he assured me that in Three years spent in the Academy, he never saw a Latin book nor any teacher who taught anything there, who wouldn’t have been offended to be suspected of speaking or understanding Latin."^[268] This kind of criticism continued with Dr. Wallis, the Savilian Professor of Mathematics at Oxford in 1700, who was extremely outraged by Maidwell's attempts to establish an academy in London:^[269]

"Of the teachers in the academy, there are hardly any of a higher caliber than a valet. And if one such as he, who (for example) has attended to his master during a couple of campaigns and may be able to perhaps replicate the design of a fortification from another document; this is referred to as mathematics; and, beyond this (if even that), you shouldn't expect much more."

A guy named Mr. P. Chester wraps up the English critique of a school like Benjamin's by saying that its claims to prepare people for life were "like shearing sheep—lots of noise and very little wool, and nothing significant taught that I know of, but only to prepare a person to be a French knight, which in plain English is just a soldier."^[270]

These comments are what you'd expect from Oxford, no doubt, but even M. Jusserand admits that the academies weren't hubs of intellectual brilliance, and he cites as proof some questions asked of a student who was imprisoned in the Bastille at his father's request:

"Wasn't it true that Mr. Varin, his father, noticing he had no interest in studying, had enrolled him in the Royal Academy to learn various skills, and had supported him with considerable expenses?"

"He admitted that his father, while his mother was alive, had enrolled him in the Académie Royale and had provided the necessary funds for that, paying the standard tuition of 1600 livres a year."

"Isn't it true that after spending some time at the Académie Royale, he was expelled for dressing girls in boys' clothes to smuggle them in?"

"He denied it. He had never brought any female student into the school: he had left at his father's request, after properly saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. de Poix."^[271]

However, some form of education had to be arranged for Royalist boys during the Civil War, when Oxford was in chaos. Parents who found themselves homeless on the Continent were grateful for the academies. Even the Stuarts attended them, though the Duke of Gloucester had to be separated from some young French nobles, "who, being educated in the same academy, were more familiar with him than was thought appropriate."^[272] It was a choice between academies or the kind of education that Edmund Verney experienced in a dull provincial city as the only student of an exiled Regius Professor of Greek from Cambridge. But the impact of being raised in France and thrown too soon into the decadent courts of Europe was clear at the Restoration, when Charles the Second and his friends returned to shock England with their "extreme wildness." What else could be the outcome of a youth spent, as the Earl of Chesterfield noted:^[273] at thirteen years old as a courtier at St Germaine: at fourteen, without any governor or tutor: at sixteen, at M. de Veau’s academy, where he "happened to have a quarrel with M. Morvay, who later became Captain of the French King's Guards, whom I hurt and disarmed in a duel." After that, he left the academy and moved to the Court of Turin. It was from Italy, De Gramont said, that Chesterfield brought those refined manners and that jealousy regarding women for which he was so infamous among the rakes of the Restoration.^[274]

Henry Peacham's chapter "Of Travaile"^[275] is mostly based on Dallington's advice, but it's worth noting that in The Compleat Gentleman, Spain is highlighted for the first time for travelers. This reflects the growing interest in Spain due to the romantic adventures of Prince Charles and Buckingham there. James Howell, who traveled with them, gives even more attention to Spain in his Instructions for Forreine Travell. Nevertheless, even though Spain was relatively safe for Englishmen after 1605, it wasn't a popular destination for leisure. It was an uncomfortable and expensive country; not much had improved since 1537, when Clenardus, exhausted from crossing deserts on his way to the University of Salamanca, after a sparse meal of rabbit, without wine or water, settled down to sleep on the floor of a small hut, using his three black servants as a pillow, and exclaimed, "O misera Lusitania, beati qui non viderunt."^[276] Civilization was mostly limited to a few large cities, and getting to them required traversing tedious, hot, barren, and unprofitable lands, facing the risk of robbers and the certainty of customs officers, who taxed everything, even the clothes people wore. No one was exempt. Henry the Eighth's ambassador complained loudly and desperately about this to someone in his office.^[277] Elizabeth's ambassador did the same. But the officers grimly replied, "that if Christ or Saint Francis came with all their followers, they would not escape."^[278] If the initial discomforts from customs officials put travelers in a bad mood towards Spain, the inns reinforced that sentiment. "In some places, there is just the shell of a house, with minimal furnishings, and sometimes no beds at all for travelers in the Ventas—or Lodgings along the King's highway, where if travelers meet, they must carry their backpacks well-stocked with essentials: otherwise, they may go to bed supperless."^[279] The Comtesse d'Aunoy complains that it was impossible to warm up at the kitchen fire without choking since there was no chimney. Additionally, the room was crowded with men and women, "blacker than devils and dressed like beggars... always some of them brazenly strumming a shabby guitar."^[280] Even the large cities weren't entertaining, as they were pretty enough and had "certain massive and solid displays," yet they lacked many charms of urban life. The streets were so poorly paved that every step caused horses to splash water into carriages.^[281] A friend warned Tobie Matthew that "In the cities, you'll find so little of the Italian delicacy in their buildings, the cleanliness and sweetness of their streets, their lifestyle, their entertainment with villas, gardens, walks, fountains, academies, arts of painting, architecture, and similar things, that you might think they only live together out of fear of wolves."^[282]

SKETCHING ON THE SHORES OF LAKE AVERNUS IN 1610

How little the seriousness of the Spanish nobles appealed to English courtiers, used to the lively ways of James I and his "Steenie," can be understood from The Perambulation of Spain.^[283] "You should know," says the first character in that dialogue, "that there is a lot of seriousness and formality in the Catholic Court, but little noise and few people; so that it can be called a Monastery rather than a Royal Court." The frugality in such a place was a major source of annoyance. "Because of this, the King of Spain doesn't spend much," says the second character. "So little," is the reply, "that I bet the French King spends more on Pages and Servants than the King of Spain does on all his Court Attendants." Buckingham's entourage mocked the sparse meals they received.^[284] It was in such a frustrating contrast to the haughty demeanor of those who provided it. "We are still extremely poor," writes the English Ambassador about the Court of Madrid, "yet as proud as devils, indeed even as rich devils."^[285] Not only at Court, but everywhere, Spaniards were indifferent to outsiders and not at all interested in pleasing them. Lord Clarendon notes that in Madrid travelers "will find less enjoyment staying there than in any other place we have previously recommended: for that nation having less respect for mere travelers, who go abroad without business, are not at all concerned to accommodate them: and when they complain about the lack of many conveniences, as they rightly do, they wonder why people would come from home, if they would be bothered by those inconveniences."^[286]

It’s no surprise, then, that Spain was seen as a pretty dull country for foreigners, and that Howell "met more travelers between Paris and Orleans than I found nearly throughout my entire journey through Spain."^[287] A sense of curiosity and the desire to learn the language might lead someone to spend some time in Madrid, but English visitors found little to praise there. In contrast, Holland increasingly impressed them. Travelers never stopped marveling at its local governments, reform schools, workhouses, industry, thriftiness, and social welfare. The tidy buildings, beautiful streets, and peaceful inns received lots of compliments.^[288]

Descartes, who picked Amsterdam as the place to develop his philosophy, praised it as the perfect retreat for students, arguing that it was much better for them than Italy, which was plagued by sickness, heat, uncomfortable evenings, murder, and theft.^[289] Locke, when he went into voluntary exile in 1684, enjoyed spending time with doctors and intellectuals in Amsterdam, attending the dissection of a lioness at the special invitation of the city's chief physician, or debating tricky theological issues with wealthy Quaker merchants.^[290] Courtiers were delighted by the seaside at Scheveningen, where on the firm sand, perfectly shaped by nature for the entertainment of the elite, foreign ambassadors and their ladies, along with the social scene of The Hague, drove around in their coaches and six horses.^[291] However, Sir William Temple, after several years as Ambassador to the Netherlands, concluded that Holland was a place where a person would prefer to visit rather than live, since it was a country with more sense than humor, more wealth than enjoyment, and where one would find more people to respect than to love.^[292]

Holland was a peculiar delight for travelers in the seventeenth century because it had so many curiosities and rarities. To discover unique items, the Jacobean gentleman would go on any journey. People who had collections of butterflies, miniatures, shells, ivory, or Indian beads were constantly approached by tourists wanting to see their treasures.^[293] No garden fascinated them more than one with "a rupellary nidary"^[294] or an aviary filled with eagles, cranes, storks, bustards, ducks with four wings, or rabbits with an almost perfect yellow color.^[295] Therefore, Holland, where ships brought precious curiosities from all over the world, was a paradise for collectors. Evelyn in Rotterdam felt torn between his admiration for the brass statue of Erasmus and a pelican, which he describes in detail. The main appeal of Dutch inns for Sam Paterson was their collections of China and Japan ware and the chance of encountering a purring marmot, a squeaking guinea pig, or a tame rabbit wearing a collar of bells, hopping around the house.^[296]

But we might have spent too much time talking about those who traveled to collect souvenirs and to gain skills at French academies. While the academies were typical of the seventeenth century, there were other places of learning that attracted Englishmen abroad. The study of medicine, in particular, took many students to Padua or Paris, as the Continent was far ahead of England in scientific research.^[297] Sir Thomas Browne's son studied anatomy at Padua with Sir John Finch, who had settled there and was later chosen as the syndic of the university.^[298] In Paris, Martin Lister, although alongside the English Ambassador, mostly enjoyed watching "Mr. Bennis in the dissecting room working alone on a dead body," and "found more pleasure in seeing Monsieur Breman in his white waistcoat digging in the royal physic garden and planting his beds than in Mounsieur de Saintot preparing space for an ambassador." He found himself more inclined and better able to learn the names and appearances of a hundred plants than of five or six princes.^[299]

It was medicine that primarily intrigued Nicholas Ferrar, who was one of the most dedicated travelers focused on self-improvement. Around the same time the second Earl of Chesterfield was dueling at the academy of Monsieur de Veau, a serious young Ferrar traveled from Cambridge to Leipsic and "worked hard to study the city's originals, the nature of its government, and the moods and tendencies of its people." Finding the university too distracting, he moved to a nearby village to read the best writers on German matters. He spent two weeks apprenticing in every German trade. He could hold a conversation with an architect using their specific terminology; he could chat with sailors about their sea language. After relocating to Padua, he quickly gained remarkable expertise in medicine, and his conversation and charisma uplifted the notorious students of Padua.^[300]

After the Restoration, the idea of improving oneself through traveling abroad gained new momentum. Charles the Second's friends, having spent so much time overseas, naturally brought back a fresh wave of continental ideas to England. France became even more of a trendsetter for the "gentry and civil society." Travelers like Evelyn, who lamented the English gentry's "solitary and inactive lives in the countryside," the "proud and uncouth Englishman," and the "awkward demeanor of our gloomy Nation,"^[301] made an impact. It was widely accepted that courtesy and friendliness had to be imported from across the sea since the "mere Englishman" lacked those qualities. He was "rude in manner, hard to get to know, and blunt even when he was being polite."^[302]

Even wise and honest Englishmen started to feel embarrassed about their manners and thought they needed to try to be less stereotypically English. "Adopt a decent boldness," Sir Thomas Browne regularly advises his son in France. "Avoid rustic modesty." "Practice a stylish appearance and confident behavior; anyone who doesn’t learn this in France is wasting their time."^[303]

But there was a difference in travel that defined a gentleman during the reign of Charles II: Italy and Germany were once again safe and welcoming to travelers, making Holland, Germany, Italy, and France a fantastic tour circuit known as the Grand Tour. It was still common to spend some time in Paris at an academy to learn various skills and accomplishments, but a significant amount of effort was put into traveling by post-chaise through the major towns of Europe. Since it was much easier to sightsee than to study government systems, write reports, or even to handle “The Great Horse,” the Grand Tour became a popular form of education, especially toward the end of the century, when even attending academies felt like too much work for the fashionable elite. Looking good and being witty took precedence over martial aspirations. Gentlemen could no longer tolerate the roughness of "The Great Horse" and were instead carried in sedan chairs. Traveling across Europe in a coach suited them perfectly. This style of travel also appealed to the sons of country squires; as the trend spread from the Court to the countryside, not only wealthy noblemen and stylish gallants but also ordinary country gentlemen aimed to send their sons on a quest for the “bel air.” With a somewhat vague understanding of how to accomplish this, they hired governors who discovered that the easiest way to deal with Tony Lumpkin was to take him across many miles while keeping him entertained by looking at buildings. The whole purpose of travel had sadly declined since Elizabethan times. Cynical parents like Francis Osborn had no real belief in its positive effects but merely recommended it because it was fashionable. "Some to starch a more serious face upon wanton, impertinent, and expensive Vanity, promote 'Travel' as 'the best Accomplisher of Youth and Gentry,' although Experience has shown the general result is 'the greatest Debaucher' ... yet since it enhances one’s reputation in the world, which is necessary because Desert is only useful to itself (Scholars and Travelers being regarded as the highest Graduates in the most universal Judgments), I am not unwilling to endorse travel for a time." ^[304]

In short, the purpose of the Grand Tour was to see and be seen. The term seems to be an extension of what was used to describe driving in one's coach around the main streets of a town. The Duchess of Newcastle, in 1656, wrote from Antwerp: "I sometimes go out, rarely to visit, but just in my coach around the town, or through some of the streets, which we here call a tour, where all the prominent people of the town go to see and be seen, as well as all visitors of any rank." ^[305] Evelyn, in 1652, compared "making the Tour" with the more worthwhile kind of travel; "But the one who (instead of making the Tour, as they call it) or, as a recent Ambassador of ours humorously yet sharply criticized, (like a goose swimming down the river) having learned the language, visited the Court, looked into their customs, attended their legal proceedings, observed their Military Discipline, made friends with their scholars, studied their Arts, and became familiar with their ways, truly values his time." ^[306] In another place he states: "It is said of Ulysses that he saw many Cities, but his observations of people's manners and customs were always more important than just counting steeples and making tours: It is this ethical and moral aspect of Travel that enriches a Gentleman." ^[307] In 1670, Richard Lassels first used the term "Grand Tour" in an English travel book: "The Grand Tour of France and the Giro of Italy." ^[308] This is simply a specific use of the idea of "round," which had been common for a long time and still exists in our phrase, "make the round trip." "The Spanish ambassadors," writes Dudley Carleton in 1610, "are set to make a perfect round next Spring." ^[309]

TENNIS AS PLAYED IN PARIS IN 1632

In the time of the Grand Tour, the role of the governor became really important. There had always been governors, of course, since the early days of travel to become a well-rounded person. Their arguments with fathers about the costs of the trip and their complaints about the bad behavior of their students have echoed through the years. Now it’s Mr. Windebanke expressing concern to Cecil that his son "has absolutely no interest or inclination to apply any learning, according to the purpose you sent him here for," as he’s gotten caught up in an "excessive affection for a young lady living near Paris."^[310] Now Mr. Smythe wants to be called home unless his allowance and that of Francis Davison can be increased. "For Mr. Francis is now a man, your son, and not so easily managed when it comes to expenses, about which we’ve had more arguments than I care to mention."^[311] Bacon's essay "Of Travel" from 1625 is the first to suggest using a governor;^[312] but governors truly came into their own by the middle of the century, when it became common to send boys abroad quite young, at fourteen or fifteen, because they were more impressionable for learning foreign languages. At that age, they generally couldn’t be trusted on their own, especially after a century of warnings about the moral and religious dangers of traveling abroad. Parents were very fearful of the risks of travel, and it was a huge responsibility for a governor to take on one of these precious young people, as can be seen in this letter from Lady Lowther to Joseph Williamson, who later became Secretary of State: "I have no doubt that you have received my son," the mother writes, "along with our letters asking you to look after him to foster all the good in him and to curb any bad behavior, as he is the hope and only successor to his father. I pray to the Almighty and work for all possible means to this end; I believe your careful guidance and advice can greatly help. Let me know if you find him obedient or unruly: his nature is good, and he has reasonable ability, but his skills are less than I wish: however, he’s still young enough to learn, and through study, he can make up for lost time."

"First, try to help him settle into his faith, as it's the foundation of all our other hopes, especially given the relaxed environment you're in. I'm sure you've thought carefully about the decision to travel to Italy, but I have to express my concerns (along with the limitations of my gender) that all my feelings are focused on this one issue. I also recognize how hot-headed he can be, prone to extremes. Still, I leave his care in your hands, sincerely asking the God of Heaven to guide you in the best way possible and to make him reasonable with you and hardworking for his own success."^[313]

A governor became increasingly important as the judge of what's trendy for families with only a slight connection to the fashionable world. He acted with a sense of authority and started writing books on how to do the Grand Tour. One such book is The Voyage of Italy, with Instructions concerning Travel, by Richard Lassels, Gent., who "traveled through Italy five times as a tutor to several of the English nobility and gentry."^[314] Lassels, in highlighting the benefits of travel, plays on the growing sensitivity of the country gentleman regarding his innocent quirks: "The Country Lord who never saw anyone but his father's tenants and the parish priest, and never read anything except John Stow and Speed; thinks the Land's End is the World's End; and that all true greatness, besides a big pie, consists of a big fire and a big estate;" or, "My country gentleman who never traveled can hardly go to London without making his will, or at least without wetting his handkerchief."^[315]

The Grand Tour, of course, is the solution to these shortcomings—especially with a wise guide at the helm. More attention should be paid to selecting that guide than to any other attendant. Unlike servants and footmen, who are "like his galoshes, which he leaves at the doors of those he visits," his guide is like his shirt, always close by, and should therefore be of the highest quality. The examples of poor guides in Lassels' instructions are enough to make anyone hesitate about the Grand Tour altogether. These "needy bold men" took students to Geneva, where they lost all genuine English loyalty and respect for the monarchy; they kept them in dull provincial towns where the guide's wife or mistress happened to live. "Others have been seen selling their pupils to instructors, and convincing them that the worst academies were the best, because they were the best for the crafty guide, who earned ten pounds a student for every one he could bring there: Others I've known who would have married their pupils in France without their parents' knowledge";^[316] ... and so on, with other even more shocking examples.

The challenges of finding the right kind of governor were not overstated by Lassels. The Duke of Ormond's grandson had exactly the kind of dishonest tutor described—one who, instead of exposing the Earl of Ossory to the world, took him to his own family and "buried" him at Orange.^[317] It's surprising, at first glance, that the son of the Earl of Salisbury was placed under the care of Sir John Finet, who won over James the First with his exceptional talent for writing "bawdy songs."^[318] We're shocked to read that Lord Clifford's governor, Mr. Beecher, lost his cool during a game and called Sir Walter Chute into the field,^[319] or that Sir Walter Raleigh's son was able to showcase his governor, Ben Jonson, dead-drunk on a cart, "which he had drawn by workers through the streets, at every corner displaying his governor sprawled out, and telling people that was a more vivid image of a crucifix than any they had."^[320] But it truly required a strong character to be a governor at all. It wasn't safe to choose just any smart and virtuous tutor; just look at the Earl of Derby, who was sent abroad in 1673 with Mr. James Forbes, "a gentleman of good character, virtue, and prudence, but too gentle in nature to handle his pupil." The experiences of these two, as narrated by Carte in his life of Ormond, are surely typical.

They had only been in Paris for three months when a misunderstanding arose between them that couldn’t be resolved, leading both to write to the Duke (of Ormond) complaining about each other. His grace quickly sent Mr. Muleys to investigate the reason for the quarrel and to try to reconcile them. The earl had forgotten the duke’s advice to get to know the noble people in France and to limit his interactions with his fellow countrymen as much as good manners allowed while abroad; instead, he had formed a close friendship with a disreputable young man he met in Paris, who was the son of Dr. Merrit, a physician. The governor had warned the young nobleman against befriending such a worthless person who would drag him into all kinds of vice and expenses, leading to numerous troubles. Merrit, having learned of this, ambushed Mr. Forbes one day in a house and seriously injured him. Instead of showing the appropriate anger in such a situation, the earl appeared rather pleased with the incident and continued his friendship with Merrit. The duke, discovering that Merrit had a terrible reputation among those who knew him in London, just as Mr. Forbes had indicated, easily suspected the earl was at fault and instructed Muleys to make him aware of the man's bad reputation and how unworthy he was of the earl's friendship and company.

"When Muleys arrived in Paris, he found things in really bad shape for Lord Derby, who had not only supported Merrit's attack but, at the urging of some young French troublemakers, had allowed his governor to be tossed in a blanket. The earl was restless, full of energy, and not willing to be controlled; Forbes was a serious, level-headed, and gentle man, and his wise advice had no impact on his student. The duke, realizing what the young man might get up to, decided to send someone to take charge of him. For this, he chose Colonel Thomas Fairfax, a younger son of the first Lord Fairfax, a brave and honorable man (as all the Fairfaxes were), and straightforwardly honest. At first, Lord Derby was uneasy, but the colonel firmly told him that he was there to take control and would do so; his lordship needed to accept that and do it gracefully and in good spirits. He quickly got rid of the earl's unsavory and scandalous friends and informed the rest that he was responsible for the young nobleman, who was under his care. Therefore, if any of them ever had a dispute with his inexperienced pupil, they would have to deal with him, and he would ensure they received satisfaction. His bravery was well known enough to dissuade anyone from testing it; the nobility of his family and his own merits earned him respect from everyone, including his pupil. No conflicts occurred: the earl was reformed, always very respectful of his governor. He left Paris and traveled down the Loire to the south of France, where governors of towns and provinces welcomed him with great respect and unique forms of honor. From there, he went to Italy, making a striking impression everywhere, and traveling with as much dignity as any nobleman while spending just over twelve hundred pounds a year; it’s quite easy to stand out in those countries with virtue, good manners, and careful management."^[321]

This final comment from Carte gives us the perspective of some families; it was more affordable to live abroad. It definitely was—for courtiers who had to pay eighty pounds for a suit of clothes—without any trimming^[322]—and spent two thousand pounds on a dinner for the king.^[323] Francis Osborn thought one of the main benefits of traveling was the financial skills it taught: "Frugality is best learned by the Italian and the Scot; it comes naturally to the first, and is essential for the latter."^[324] However, during the extravagant times of the Stuarts, travel costs had significantly increased. The Grand Tour was more expensive than travel during the Elizabethan era, when young men quietly settled down for serious study in some German or Italian town. For example, Robert Sidney had only £100 a year while living with Sturm. "Call it what you like, it's all I owe you," said his father. "Harry Whyte ... will get his £20 a year, and you your £100; so be as cheerful as you can."^[325] Secretary Davison expected his son, his tutor, and their servant to live on this sum in Venice. "Mr. Wo." had said that would be enough.^[326] If "Mr Wo." refers to Mr. Wotton, as seems likely since Wotton had just come back from abroad in 1594, and Francis Davison left in 1595, he was an expert on economical travel, having managed to live in Germany for a shilling and fourpence halfpenny a day for food and lodging.^[327] But he didn't bring along a governor and an English servant. Moryson, Howell, and Dallington all noted that expenses for a servant came to £50 a year. Thus, Davison's tutor rightly argued that £200 wouldn't be enough for three people. Even though they spent "nowhere near as much as other gentlemen from their country in Venice, and despite his efforts to shop himself and be as frugal as possible, expenses would still add up to forty shillings a week, excluding clothing and books." "I swear I've never experienced such hardship in my life just to save money," he lamented.^[328] As learning skills in France replaced student life in Italy, costs understandably increased. Moryson, who traveled as a humanist for "knowledge of state affairs, histories, cosmography, and similar subjects," found that fifty or sixty pounds were enough to "cover the expenses for a traveler's food, necessary clothing, and two trips yearly, in spring and autumn, while also allowing for moderate leisure expenses."^[329] However, Dallington discovered that a French-style education would cost exactly double. "If he travels without a servant, eighty pounds sterling is a reasonable amount; unless he learns to ride: if he maintains both these expenses, he would need at least one hundred and fifty pounds; and allowing over two hundred would be excessive, and not beneficial for him. Thus, the amount would correspondingly adjust according to the number of people he supports.

"The usual cost of his expenses is this: ten gold crowns a month for his own meals, eight for his servant (at most), two crowns a month for fencing, the same for dancing, no less for reading, and fifteen crowns monthly for riding, though he will stop this activity during the hottest months of the year. The remaining £150 is allocated for clothing, books, travel expenses, tennis, and other extraordinary costs.^[330] A few years later, Howell sets the annual expenses at £300—(an additional £50 for each servant.) This £300 covers riding, dancing, fencing, tennis, clothing, and coach hire—a new necessity. Attending an academy would seem to be a more affordable way to learn these skills. For around £110, one could have lodging and meals for themselves and a servant and receive instruction in riding, fencing, mathematics, and more.^[331] Lassels wisely avoids revealing to those who aren't already convinced what the cost will be for the extravagant Grand Tour he describes. We estimate it would be over £500, since the Earl of Cork spent £1000 a year for his two sons, their governor, just two servants, and only saddle horses:^[332] whereas Lassels suggests that no one who aspires to be fashionable could go through Paris without a coach accompanied by three attendants and a page.^[333] Evelyn, at any rate, believed that a traveler's expenses were "enormous": "And believe me, Sir, if he gains some extraordinary satisfaction from what he has witnessed abroad, the efforts, worries, sleepless nights, dangers, journeys, poor hospitality, absence from friends, and countless similar inconveniences, combined with his exorbitant expenses, truly do cost dearly, and through a strange kind of extortion, purchase that small experience and reputation he can boast of having gained from abroad."^[334]

Some details from Robert Boyle's education might help illustrate how the Grand Tour was taken. His father, the esteemed Earl of Cork, was a strong supporter of this type of education and sent his many sons off in pairs to explore the Continent. He was, as Boyle noted, someone "who supplied what he wanted in scholarship himself, by being both a passionate admirer and a prominent supporter of it."^[335] His journal from 1638 mentions the return of "My sons Lewis and Roger from their travels in foreign kingdoms,... for their safe return, God be ever humbly and heartily thanked and praised by me and them."^[336] In the same year, he brought back the Lord Viscount of Kynalmeaky and the Lord of Broghill, along with Mr. Marcombes, their governor, from their trips to France and Italy. Then it was time for Francis and Robert, recently graduated from Eton College. With their governor Marcombes, a French servant, and a French boy, they left London in October 1639, "having His Majesty's license under his hand and privy signet to continue abroad for 3 years: God guide them abroad and bring them back safely."^[337]

Robert, as he recounts in his autobiography, was quite content to leave, but Francis, who was fifteen and had just married one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, aged fourteen, was not ready to be thrown back into childhood after four days of celebration.^[338] There was a heated argument between him and his father regarding his forced departure for Paris. He was so upset that he lost track of his sword and pistols—at least that's what we learn from the first letter Marcombes sent from Paris. "Mr. Francis, at his departure from London, was so troubled by your Lordship's anger towards him that he couldn't even tell us where he put his sword and the case of pistols that your Lordship gave him. Therefore, I had to buy him a case of pistols here for each one, due to the danger that is now everywhere in France and because it's the trend for every fashionable gentleman to ride with a case of pistols, as they laugh at those who don't have them. I also bought a sword for Mr. Francis, and when Mr. Robert saw it, he earnestly asked me to buy him one too since his was out of style, so I couldn't refuse him that small request."^[339]

Marcombes didn’t keep the boys in Paris for long, but quickly took them to Geneva and got them settled into work. Francis showed a lot of patience and good humor in accepting his situation. He wasn't as moody as Lord Cranborne, who ended up getting sick, couldn’t eat, and had to go back to England.^[340] "As for Mr. Francis," Marcombes writes to Cork, "I assure you, my Lord, I didn’t think he could adapt to different types of good learning with such ease and enthusiasm as he does, especially after tasting a bit of the freedom at court. But I find him very disciplined and eager to make up for lost time, so I have no doubt you will receive great joy from him."^[341] He hadn’t received much of an education at Eton, as his tutor enjoys pointing out: "For Mr. Francis, I assure you, my Lord, he needed to focus on other things until now, for aside from reading and writing in English, he knew nothing about the world; and believe me, before God, I speak the truth when I say no gentleman has made less use of his time than he did when he left England. And besides that, if he had stayed longer at Eton, he would have learned to drink with other reckless students, as I have been informed by Mr. Robert."^[342]

Inspired by the study of "Fortifications," a branch of mathematics that delighted boys in the seventeenth century, the future Viscount Shannon dedicated himself to his studies with enthusiasm;^[343] and for a while, peace prevailed in the educational process. "Every morning," writes their tutor, "I teach them Rhetoric in Latin, and I explain Justin from Latin into French, and right after lunch, I read to them two chapters from the Old Testament along with a brief explanation of the points I believe they might not understand; and before dinner, I teach them the history of the Romans in French using Florus and Titinius Livius, along with two sections of the Calvinist Catechism with the most orthodox explanations of the points they do not grasp; and after dinner, I read to them two chapters from the New Testament, and both morning and evening we say our prayers together, and twice a week we go to Church."^[344]

The boys always spoke French and took some dance lessons, but they didn’t have any riding lessons because "their limbs are not strong enough, nor are their bodies able to handle tough exercises; and besides, even though we have just as good and skilled teachers here as in many other places, when they go to Paris or somewhere else, their teachers will make them believe that they have wasted their time and will make them start over: that is their way of doing things with everyone."^[345] However, Francis enjoyed playing tennis and was growing quickly. "I can assure your Lordship that both his legs and arms are a third bigger now than they were in England." Robert, even at fourteen, is quite the bookworm, "doesn’t love playing tennis as much, but enjoys spending time alone with some history book or another, though I often encourage him to play tennis and get out more. I’ve never seen him look better; although he is growing a lot, he is also quite chubby, and his cheeks are as red as vermilion. This letter finds us at the end of winter, which is very cold and there is a lot of snow on the ground, but it makes them so hungry that your Lordship would take great pleasure in watching them eat. I don’t give them fancy food, but I assure your Lordship that they always have good bread and good wine, good beef and mutton, nice capons three times a week, and good fish, constantly with two dishes of fruit and a nice piece of cheese; all kinds of clean linen two or three times a week, and a constant fire in their room where they have a good bed for themselves, and another for their attendants."^[346]

Indeed, Marcombes was a really good governor, as Robert often told the Earl of Cork, and he made sure they didn't lack for anything. In the spring, he bought them saddle-horses so that after their studies, they could enjoy some fresh air and visit their friends. Since the governor was responsible for all the funds, it was a big test of his integrity to resist the temptation to cut back on his students' clothes and spending money and pocket the savings. That's why Marcombes frequently mentions in his letters to the Earl of Cork things like: "I’ve made a complete black satin suit for Mr. Robert: the cloak is lined with plush, and I give them nearly two pounds sterling each month for their leisure." ^[347]

The only troubling factors in the otherwise satisfactory situation of Marcombes and his students were the Killigrews. Thomas Killigrew, who later became one of the playwrights of the Restoration, had just transitioned from being a page to Charles I., and during his travels across the continent, he stopped by to see the Boyles.^[348] As the brother of Mr. Francis's wife, he had a strong but negative impact on the household in Geneva due to his charm as a courtier. Marcombes was initially quite cautious in his comments, only noting that "Mr. Killigrew has been here since last Saturday... but I don't think he will stay long; which might be better for your sons: for although his conversations are very sweet and delightful, they don’t need any interruptions, especially Mr. Francis, who was severely hindered in his learning by his previous teachers: and even though he has a great desire to make up for lost time, he cannot keep up with his younger brother, so he needs time and to avoid the company of those who do not care about their studies."^[349] But when it became clear that Killigrew had informed the Earl of Cork that Marcombes kept the brothers poorly dressed, the governor expressed his view of the emerging playwright as "one who speaks poorly of his own mother and all his friends, and who acts like a fool in the streets like a schoolboy, constantly talking about whores and such topics, and often bragging about getting money from this or that merchant without any real intention to pay."^[350] His presence stirred up a boastful attitude in Mr. Francis, who "never talked about anything except what he would do once he regained his status, how many dogs he would have; how many horses; how many fine shirts, suits, and ribbons, and how freely he would socialize and have fun with good fellows, etc."^[351]

SIR THOMAS KILLIGREW From a modern caricature of the Restoration playwright, who developed some of his traits in France in 1640

Thomas Killigrew's sister, Mr. Francis's wife, was also a very disruptive person. She would write to her husband, encouraging him to escape from his tutor, and suggested that she come to the Continent herself to meet him.^[352] She schemed with her brother, with whom she shared a similar temperament.^[353] It's hard to say what chaos she would have caused in the meticulously arranged education of the Boyles, as Francis became increasingly restless after two years, had their trip not been abruptly cut short by the first signs of the Civil War back home.

After spending a winter in Italy, they were ready to head to Paris to improve their dancing skills and start riding the big horse when they got the news that the Earl of Cork was financially ruined by the rebellion in Ireland. He informed them that he could only send them two hundred and fifty pounds, which he had just sent. By being frugal and letting go of their servants, they could make it to Holland and join the Prince of Orange. They now had to figure out their own future.^[354]

The two hundred fifty pounds never arrived. They were stolen by the agent, leaving the Boyles broke in an unfamiliar country. However, Marcombes didn’t abandon them. Robert, who was too weak for military service, stayed with him in Geneva for two years. Francis, finally free, mounted his horse, headed to Ireland, and joined the fight alongside his brothers Dungarvan, Kynalmeaky, and Broghill, who gathered around their father.^[355]

There are several other 17th-century books on the theory of travel besides Lassels', which are worth reading. However, we’ve reached a point where essays like these have so many repetitions that detailed commentary would be tedious. Edward Leigh's Three Diatribes^[356] was published in 1671, a year after Lassels' book, and in 1678, Gailhard, another professional governor, in his "Directions for the Education of Youth as to Their Breeding at Home and Traveling Abroad,"^[357] mimicked Lassels' focus on the specific needs of the country gentleman. "The honest country gentleman" is a term for someone who is likely to be fooled, someone who lacks wit and experience. He, more than anyone else, needs to go abroad to understand people's temperaments and learn their various customs. "Regarding Country breeding, which is contrasted with the Court, the City, or Travel: when it is solely that, it’s quite rustic. Before a gentleman settles down, activities like hawking, coursing, and hunting are the highlights; afterward come smoking tobacco and hanging out at the alehouse and tavern, where races, cockfighting, and similar activities are arranged." In contrast to this lifestyle, Gailhard presents Sir Thomas Grosvenor as a model, who "strived to improve himself through foreign experiences" by diligently studying the French and Italian languages, practicing fencing, dancing, riding on The Great Horse, sketching landscapes, and learning to play the guitar. "He didn’t waste his money but invested it in good books, medals, and other useful curiosities worthy of a complete gentleman."^[358]

When you compare these instructions with those from the sixteenth century, you can't help but notice the strong emphasis on drawing and "limning." This aligns with what you would expect in the seventeenth century, a time when an appreciation for art, statues, and architecture became a key characteristic of a gentleman. The Marquis de Seignelay, who was sent on a trip in 1617 by his father Colbert, traveled with a painter and an architect who were tasked with helping him appreciate the beauty of Italian art.^[359] Antoine Delahaute, on his Grand Tour with an Abbé as his guardian, also brought along an artist so that whenever he encountered a beautiful scene, he could ask to stop the carriage and have the view sketched by the willing draughtsman.^[360] Not only did gentlemen seek to appreciate art, but they also tried their hand at drawing and painting. In the travels of George Sandys^[361] (1615 edition), you can see a woodcut of travelers dressed in the style of Henry of Navarre, sketching by Lake Avernus. It was common to take out a notebook and sketch an appealing view before the camera was invented. "Before I went to bed, I drew a landscape of this lovely terrace," says Evelyn in Roane.^[362] In Tournon, after seeing a robust castle sitting atop a high cliff, he remarked, "The view was so inviting that I couldn’t resist sketching it with my crayon."^[363] As a result, we find travel instructions that reflect the tastes of the era: Gerbier's Subsidium Peregrinantibus emphasizes the importance of knowledge in "Perspective, Sculpture, Architecture and Pictures" as essential for a refined education, highlighting the identification and examination of works of art as one of the primary responsibilities of a traveler.^[364]

Significant as the guidance from Gerbier, Lassels, and others during this time may be, there are some recommendations for studying abroad that are more intriguing than these works of professional educators—advice written by someone who truly embodied the ideal gentleman of his era. The Earl of Chesterfield's letters to his son capture the essence of a foreign education with a candidness that is missing from the writings of a governor aimed at a wider audience. While the content of these letters is well-known, their connection to travel for "cultum animi" has, I believe, been overlooked until now.

It will be remembered that the earl sent his son abroad at the age of fourteen to study for five years on the Continent and to get better preparation for life than what Oxford or Cambridge could provide. Chesterfield held a low opinion of these universities. He could barely hide his disdain for an education that didn't stop a man from being flustered when introduced to the King. He recalled how, when he was first introduced to good company, he was terrified and awkward, with all the clumsiness and rustiness from Cambridge. At Cambridge, he "had acquired among the pedants of an unrefined school a knack for satire and scorn, and a strong tendency for arguing and contradicting," which held him back in polite society. Only after his education abroad did he realize the foolishness of Englishmen who knew nothing about modern Europe, who always spoke of the Ancients as something more than human, and the Moderns as something less. "They never go without a classic or two in their pockets; they cling to the old wisdom; they read none of the modern nonsense; and they will clearly show you that no progress has been made in any art or science in the last seventeen hundred years."^[365]

His son was not to waste any time with know-it-alls, but instead, with a traveling tutor, was to start learning about life directly at the Courts. His academic studies were to go hand in hand with learning about manners:

"Courts and Camps are the only places to learn about the world. There, all kinds of characters come together, and you can see human nature in all its different forms and styles... while in other places, one particular way of life usually dominates."^[366]

Moreover, the earl didn’t believe that a group made up entirely of educated men could be considered good company. "They can't have the easy manners and charm of the world since they don't interact with it." An engaging demeanor and "an appealing behavior" should be sought after early in life, along with a solid foundation of knowledge. "A scholar without good manners is just a pedant; a philosopher, a cynic; a soldier, a brute; and everyone else unpleasant." ^[367]

The five years of young Stanhope's travels were divided as follows: one year in Lausanne,^[368] to learn the basics of languages; one year in Leipsic, to gain a solid understanding of history and law; one year visiting cities like Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna, to observe the different courts; one year in Italy, to shed the manners of Germany; and one year in Paris, to provide him with the final touch of refined charm, politeness, and ease.

We can skip the years in Germany, just like the earl did, without too much discussion. Young Stanhope was quite impressive in the more essential parts of his studies, and it wasn’t until he got to Italy, where he would start his formal training, that Chesterfield became really interested.

"The customs of Leipzig need to be left behind," he says firmly. "No more shoving food around at the table like at a German diner: no clumsy spills of drinks, plates, and salt shakers."^[369]

He needs to pay attention to the proper behavior of the courtiers—their subtle honesty, their natural, relaxed, yet refined demeanor; in short, to embody the Graces. Chesterfield sent letters of introduction to the best people in Venice, shipped his own diamond shoe buckles for his son, and started giving advice on the potential social issues that a young Englishman might face in Rome. With a dismissive tolerance for Catholics, Protestants, and all religious disputes as barriers to the art of charm, he advised Stanhope to be polite to the Pope and to kneel while the Host was being carried through the streets. However, his tutor should better refrain from that. With remarkable artistic insight, the earl realizes that the best approach for Mr. Harte is simple, blunt honesty.^[370]

On the topic of the Pretender, who is currently living in Rome, here's his advice: avoid meeting a Stuart if you can; but if you have to, pretend you don't know him or his complaints. If he starts discussing politics, deny knowing anything about what's happening in England, and get away as quickly as you can.^[371]

Long before his son's year in Italy was over, Chesterfield started getting him ready for Paris. For the first six months, Stanhope would stay at an academy with fashionable young Frenchmen; after that, he’d have his own place. Mornings were for studying or having serious talks with knowledgeable people; afternoons were for exercise; and evenings would be free for balls, the opera, or theater. These are the pleasures of a gentleman, and his father is willing to pay well for them. But he frequently emphasizes that he won’t support the excesses of a reckless spender. The eighteen-year-old Stanhope will have his coach, two valets, and a footman, along with the best French clothes—in short, everything sensible. However, he won't be given money for lots of fancy canes, extravagant snuff-boxes, high-stakes gambling, or supporting opera singers. He can have one nice snuff-box, one nice sword, and gamble only when the presence of ladies keeps the stakes lower; but no late-night parties or low company that costs way more than hanging out with equals. There’s no need for a young man with manners to pursue his laundress,^[372] especially when ladies of his class act foolishly.

Above all, Stanhope must not socialize with his fellow countrymen in Paris. Chesterfield never gets tired of criticizing them. He started pointing out the shortcomings of English boys when Stanhope was in Leipsic:

"They are usually twenty years old by the time they’ve talked to anyone outside of their schoolmaster and the fellow students in their college. If they happen to have any knowledge, it’s only in Greek and Latin; they don’t know anything about modern history or modern languages. With this limited preparation, they claim to go abroad; but really, they just stay home the whole time. Being quite awkward, extremely embarrassed, and not speaking any foreign languages, they don’t socialize with anyone from abroad, at least not anyone worthwhile. Instead, they just have dinner and drinks with each other at the bar.^[373]...

The life of the English lords is usually, or perhaps occasionally, like this. They wake up very late and have breakfast together, wasting two good morning hours. Then they travel in groups to the Palais, the Invalides, and Notre-Dame; after that, they head to the English coffee house to set up their dinner party. After dinner, where they drink quickly, they break off into smaller groups to go to the theater, where they crowd the stage, dressed in flashy clothes that are poorly made by a Scottish or Irish tailor. From the theater, they go back to the tavern, where they get really drunk, either arguing among themselves or going out to cause some chaos in the streets, often getting caught by the watch.

To steer clear of these monsters and to build the best French society was what a smart young man needed to do in Paris. He had to get close to the top French families. If he became popular with the French, he would be popular in London.

Chesterfield thought it was better to not show off his knowledge in Paris, where the society was quite uneducated. Since young men were sent to the army at around twelve or thirteen, only the women had any real education. Stanhope would find a group of young guys at the academy who were clueless about books and, at that age, often quick-tempered and irritable, so avoiding fights would be a top priority for a young Englishman. He would be as energetic as those French boys but a bit more sensible; he wouldn’t criticize them for their lack of knowledge or let their laziness interfere with the time he set aside for studying.

Such was the plan for a Grand Tour created by one of the foremost gentlemen of Europe. It remains one of the best examples of France's social influence on England, and for that reason, it properly belongs to the seventeenth century more than to the Georgian era in which the letters were written. Chesterfield might be considered the last of the courtiers. He believed in skills and personal style as a means of getting ahead in the world, long after the Court had stopped valuing such traits or viewing them as significant in the lives of leading Englishmen. Republicanism was in the air. Chesterfield was reminiscing about the France of his youth; however, France had changed. In 1765, Horace Walpole felt downcast by the seriousness and strictness of French society. Their way of conversing was serious, pedantic, and rarely lively unless sparked by a debate on some philosophical topic.^[375] In fact, Chesterfield was nostalgic for the France of Louis the Fourteenth long after "Le Soleil" had set, and the country was gloomy. It was just before the day France would start to emulate England’s democratic ideals. England, finally, instead of being on the fringes of civilization, was becoming the most powerful, respected, and enlightened nation in Europe. When that day arrived, Englishmen no longer looked to the Continent with the mindset of the Elizabethans—the spirit that aimed to be "A citizen of the whole world."

During the generations when the Stuarts expressed their admiration for France to the English aristocracy, it’s no surprise that there was a constant undercurrent of resistance against this French influence. A traveler returning from France would be chased through the streets of London, and the crowd, upon seeing his French wig and foreign mannerisms, would bombard his carriage with trash, firecrackers, old roots, and horns, shouting "French Dogs! French Dogs! A Mounser! A Mounser!"^[376] The courtiers and the true-born Englishmen didn't share much sympathy regarding foreign customs. The courtiers often mirrored the disrespectful attitude of their leader, Charles II., who famously commented that it was the roast beef and the reading of the Bible that brought on the noted sadness of the English.^[377] The true-born Englishman retorted with numerous jabs at the "gay, giddy, brisk, insipid fool," who focused only on fashion and trimmings, looked down on roast beef, and referred to his old friends as ruffians and country bumpkins; or at the libertine who "hasn't been back from France for more than three months and already he's seduced four women and fought five duels." Playwrights could always draw a crowd with a clever depiction of an "English Mounsieur," like Sir Fopling Flutter, who "went to Paris a simple, shy English fool and returned a stylish, sophisticated French dandy."^[378]

There had always been pushback against foreign influence, but in the eighteenth century, it’s clear that the attitude became stronger and more disdainful than ever before. England was aware of her power. The war with France sharpened the edge of satire, and every victory over the French fueled a deep sense of insular patriotism across all social classes. Foote claimed that living in Paris was an essential part of every fashionable man’s education because it "Gives 'em a taste for their own domestic happiness and a proper respect for their own national freedoms."^[379] His Epilogue to The Englishman in Paris praises the wisdom of British ancestors who

"They looked down on engaging in lowly, unmanly activities,
Valuing their straightforwardness and genuine hearts." ^[380]

It wasn't just the general public, or those who directly addressed them, who looked down on Catholic countries and felt sorry for them for not being British.^[381] As time passed, Whigs from all backgrounds bragged about England's superiority, especially when traveling in Europe.

"We don't envy the warmer climate that exists
In ten degrees of friendlier skies ...
It's Liberty that crowns Britannia's Isle
And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile."^[382]

Addison's travels are filled with thoughts like these. The poverty of the Campagna in Rome clearly shows people's strong dislike for arbitrary government, while the densely populated mountain of St. Marino reveals a natural love for freedom. Smollett effectively portrayed the Whigs abroad in Peregrine Pickle through the characters of the Painter and the Doctor. They noticed that even the horses and dogs in France were starving, which led Peregrine's Governor, an Oxonian and a Jacobite, to mockingly remark that they sounded like true Englishmen. The Doctor, offended by this implication, replied passionately that he was mistaken in his assumption, "his feelings and ideas not being limited to any specific country; for he viewed himself as a citizen of the world. He admitted he felt more connected to England than to any other nation, but this preference was based on thought, not bias."

This growing belief in England's superiority contributed to the decline of travel for education. Travel continued, and the eighteenth century was as notable as any other for the homesickness that affected young men, but travel shifted to be more about curiosity and leisure as we know it today, rather than a serious effort to become "a complete person." Several changes contributed to this decline. The "politics" of Italy and France, once drawing in the budding statesmen of Elizabeth’s time, were now well understood and needed no further exploration. With the end of the Stuart reign, when royal favor was no longer a way to achieve success, a courtly education lost its value. High-ranking positions during the Georgian era were often occupied by unrefined Englishmen celebrated for their straightforwardness and bluntness. Foreign elegance became an unnecessary extra, often seen as silly. Most Englishmen tended to value, as Sam Johnson did, "their rustic grandeur and their surly grace," and to share in his lament:

"Lost in lazy comfort and empty displays,
See how the warrior has turned into a dandy;
Common sense, freedom, and true virtue erased,
A copy of France and a target of Spain."^[383]

A large part of society was opposed to the kind of education that the Earl of Chesterfield wanted for his son. The earl was fully aware of this and looked down on various young men of his time, with their leather pants and unstyled hair, who would shout, "Forget these fancy, foreign manners; give me a strong, determined attitude. They make a fuss with their charm, talk like a bunch of dance instructors, and dress like a bunch of fools; one decent Englishman can take on three of them."^[384]

Even during the peak of the Grand Tour in the latter part of the seventeenth century, thoughtful people noticed the drawbacks of a foreign education. They observed this not just in the courtiers of Charles II but also in the many obscure country gentlemen who struggled to adopt the lifestyle of a Parisian Marquis through studying abroad. The Earl of Clarendon believed it was harmful to send boys overseas until after they had attended Oxford or Cambridge. There was no need for them to pick up a French accent at a young age, "as if we had no intention of being seen as Englishmen." This took them away from their own country just when they should be undergoing serious mental training, which no amount of social polishing could compensate for. "They return from travel with a kind of confidence that can easily be seen as arrogance ... all their knowledge is in how well they dress; they have a lot of style but very little substance; and they care much more about their wigs looking good than about speaking wisely. They laugh at what they don't understand, and their lack of understanding makes their laughter excessive. After they return home for two or three years, spending their time on the superficial things they brought back with them, new travelers come along with fresh styles and the same kind of confidence. These newcomers are seen as more refined gentlemen and wear their ribbons with more grace, which makes the others angry. They exit the scene and try to mingle with wiser company, where they daily realize the flaws in themselves that stem from wasting the time they spent focusing only on being fine gentlemen."^[385]

When these products of a French education couldn’t stay in town and had to live on their estates among rough country squires, it was tough for them. "They won’t accept our way," says The Country Gentleman in Clarendon's Dialogue of the Want of Respect Due to Age, "but greet us with false politeness and talk in rehearsed speeches, complaining about how much it rains, preventing them from keeping their hair dry or their linens looking good for even an hour. They ramble about how much better France is and how much better they eat and drink there, which our neighbors find hard to believe and laugh at them for saying. They absolutely can’t stand our activities like hunting and hawking, nor can their delicate bodies handle those intense motions. They have a guitar or some other stringed instrument that they play for an hour or so in bed before getting up, and they always have at least one French guy to attend to them, shave them, and style their wig; and he is also sent into the kitchen to prepare some small dish or make some sauce for dinner, which the cook barely manages to keep from throwing into the fire. In short, they live in their own little world, and their nearest neighbors don’t even know if they eat or drink." ^[386]

Not only were the pastimes of their rural neighbors seen as rough and uncivilized by the English gentry, but also the focus on local governance, which was the main responsibility of the country gentleman, was thought to be beyond the abilities of those who, by living abroad, had learned little about their own country’s laws and customs. Clarendon paints a sad picture of the return of the native who was embarrassed to attend public and private meetings for administering justice because he had spent his time dancing instead of gaining knowledge, and who now spent his days in bed, reading French romances that he had grown tired of.

Locke also discussed the flaws of the Grand Tour in his Essay of Education. He acknowledged that skills like fencing and horseback riding were seen as "essential parts of a good upbringing, and it would be considered a major oversight to skip them," but he questioned whether horseback riding was "important enough to warrant serious focus." ^[387] He pointed out that fencing has little relevance in everyday life and is not useful in actual warfare, while music "takes up a lot of a young man's time just to achieve a decent level of skill, and often leads him into strange company, making many think it's better left out." ^[388] However, the aspect of travel that Locke critiqued the most was the role of the Governor. He highlighted the impracticality of sending a boy abroad to gain experience and socialize with the right people when he is too young to not have a guardian. At the age when most boys traveled—around sixteen to twenty-two—they believed they were too grown-up to be overseen by others, yet they lacked the experience and wisdom to manage themselves. Under the protection of a Governor, they were exempt from being responsible for their actions and rarely took the initiative to reflect or make meaningful observations on their own.

RIDING THE GREAT HORSE, AS TAUGHT BY ANTOINE PLUVINEL, THE RIDING INSTRUCTOR OF LOUIS XIII From 'Le Maneige Royal,' by Antoine Pluvinel, 1624

While the Governor took away his pupil's responsibilities in life, he also held him back from making any efforts to surround himself with the right people:

"I wonder among our young men who are studying abroad under tutors how many of them ever visit someone of high status? Even fewer make connections with people from whom they could learn about good manners in that country and what’s worth noticing there.... It’s not surprising, really. People of quality and talent aren’t likely to welcome boys who still need their tutors. However, a young gentleman and foreigner who presents himself like an adult and shows a desire to learn about the customs, laws, and governance of the country he’s in will be received warmly, helped, and entertained everywhere."^[389]

These comments, along with many similar ones from other observers, led to the breakdown of the Grand Tour and discredited it as a way of learning. Locke wasn’t the only one to point out how ineffective governors were. They became a popular subject of satire in the eighteenth century. Even the best kind of "bear-master," as the French called him, undermined the true purpose of travel, and the best ones were rarely available for the many young travelers. Usually, the family chaplain was selected because he was inexpensive, and this unfortunate man was expected to curb the wild antics of the wayward youth in his care, Peregrine Pickle.^[390] A booklet titled The Bear-Leaders; or, Modern Travelling Stated in a Proper Light offers a sharp criticism of "our rough unsociable Telemachuses and their unrefined Mentors," describing how someone from the clergy, perhaps a family dependent, is appointed as the Governor for the crude and unprepared young person setting out on a tour of Europe. "The Oddities, when introduced to each other, recoil in mutual surprise, but after seeing each other frequently, develop a coarse fondness, shown through loud laughs or indicated by playful slaps on the back, along with all those other gentle gestures from our uncivilized male ruffians."^[391]

It's no surprise that a young man, who returned from traveling by coach through the main towns of Europe with a shy chaplain,^[392] came back from his trip feeling as refined as "a Dutch fisherman coming back from whaling," according to Congreve.^[393] The whole concept of the Grand Tour lost its appeal after it was taken up by rude and unsophisticated people, who felt the need to flaunt their travels to everyone they knew through inappropriate clothing and awkward speech: "not realizing that an Englishman's beef-and-pudding face doesn't suit a hat smaller than a plate; and that a man who never learned how to bow does it worse with elaborate hairstyles than with a simple wig."^[394]

In many other ways, travel lost its dignity in the eighteenth century. It was no longer necessary to live in foreign countries to understand them. With the establishment of chairs of modern history at Oxford and Cambridge by King George the First in 1724, one major reason for traveling was gone. Information about contemporary politics on the Continent was available through the growing number of news journals and gazettes. As for learning French, there had been no shortage of skilled teachers since the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 drove French Protestant refugees to seek a living in England. Therefore, the desire for knowledge faded as there was no strong need to study abroad, and a lazy, carefree, scattered, and capricious attitude took over the aristocratic tourist. Horace Walpole, during his travels, spent his time in ways that would have been judged harshly by the Elizabethans. He rushed everywhere, played cards, danced through the streets of Rheims in front of the ladies' coaches, and joyfully greeted every acquaintance from England. What would Sir Philip Sidney have thought of the lifestyle Walpole describes in this letter:

"About two days ago, around four in the afternoon... while we were picking at our teeth around a messy table in a crumbly room, Gray^[395] in his casual clothes, Mr. Conway in a grey morning coat, and I in my neat white nightgown and slippers, clearly not dressed properly, with just a slight cold, a message suddenly threw us all into chaos. It was a service from Mr. More to Mr. Walpole, saying that he would like to meet with Mr. Walpole. We rushed upstairs in a panicked flurry, but the only real damage was knocking over a couple of glasses and dropping a slipper. After we had the room cleaned and sent a polite reply to Mr. More, we started to wonder who Mr. More could be."^[396]

In the journey of Walpole and Gray, you can see a shift in what people found interesting about travel; how the romantic spirit had already replaced the humanistic appreciation for people and cities. As he wandered through Europe, Gray showed little interest in history or the complexities of human nature. He wouldn’t bother going to courts with Walpole, and if he did, he just stood in the corner of the ballroom and watched while Walpole danced. What mattered to him was La Grande Chartreuse, with its cliffs, pines, rushing waters, and hanging woods.^[397] He represents the early Byronic traveler who reveled in the awe-inspiring aspects of nature and looked down on humanity. In contrast, the warm-hearted Howell took great care to rent a place in Paris with windows facing the street so he could observe every passerby,^[398] yet he referred to the mountains in Spain as "not so high and hideous as the Alps," or as "awkward, gigantic, monstrous growths of Nature, consisting only of jagged stones."^[399]

With the drop in interest in the serious benefits of travel, there wasn't much demand for those essays about the responsibilities of students traveling abroad that we've tried to describe. By the eighteenth century, travel guides were pretty much the same as the ones we're familiar with today; that is, a guidebook outlining specific sights to see and the feelings they should evoke, along with very detailed notes on meal and transportation costs. This type of manual became necessary when travel became a leisure activity for people with moderate education who couldn't read the local guidebooks written in the language of the country they were visiting. Compilations like the Itinerarium Italiæ by Schottus, published in Antwerp in 1600 and printed in eleven editions during the seventeenth century, had been sufficient for the educated traveler of the Renaissance.^[400] France, as the hub of travel, produced the highest number of useful manuals,^[401] and it was likely from these that Richard Lassels got the idea for creating a similar work in English, which would include a call to travel, like Turler’s, along with a continental guide to art objects. The Voyage of Italy by Lassels, published in Paris in 1670, marks the start of guidebooks in English.

AN ERUPTION OF MOUNT VESUVIUS A governor taking his student to see the sights

Still, in later guides, there are still some reminders of the old advice to make good use of one's time. Misson's A New Voyage to Italy,^[402] outlines some intellectual responsibilities. According to Misson, a traveler should take along a cane that has several measuring sections, or a piece of strong thread that's well-twisted and waxed, fifty fathoms long and marked with knots to divide it into feet, so that they can measure the height of towers, the size of pillars, and all other dimensions they can manage. This seems quite demanding, but it’s a walk in the park compared to the life suggested by Count Leopold Berchtold in his Essay to Direct and Extend the Inquiries of Patriotic Travellers. He believes one should observe the laws and customs of other countries with curiosity that covers every aspect of social and economic life, starting with "Causes of the Decrease of Population and Remedies to prevent them"; moving on to the conditions of the peasantry; tackling issues related to farming, livestock care, and housing; or looking into an "Inquiry concerning Charitable Institutions such as one for recovering Drowned and Strangled Persons"; or how much freedom is granted to Grown-up Young Ladies. If travelers are unsure how to carry out their investigations, the author provides a list of specific questions related to the study topics. A few examples from this list are:

"Which herbs do the sheep in this country prefer?"

"Are there a lot of cases of people getting bitten by rabid animals?"

"Does being a bachelor make life more complicated and less appealing? How so?"

"How much is paid each day for plowing with two oxen? What about with two horses?"

"Which food has proven to be the easiest to carry and the most nutritious for preventing a distressed ship's crew from starving?"

"What is the worth of whales of various sizes?"

In addition to these inquiries, Berchtold^[403] emphasizes the importance of sketching landscapes and costumes, and even better, creating detailed drawings of engines and complex machines. He also suggests gaining proficiency in a musical instrument to avoid wasting time at the gaming table during leisure hours, preferably learning to play a portable instrument like a German flute. It goes without saying that travelers should write in their journals every night before going to sleep.

The reason the guidebooks from the eighteenth century seem laughable isn’t just that they’re intended for people with limited intelligence; another reason for their lowly tone is the heightened focus on the traveler’s material comfort. Georgian advice stresses not serving one’s country or improving one’s character, but rather the fear of being scammed or getting sick. Misson starts off with praise for fixed rates in Holland, where you don’t have to deal with the hassle of negotiating. His next topic is the exact fare from Cologne to Mainz and how to rent a coach and six horses for three crowns a day; he lists the best inns in Venice, like The Louvre, The White Lion, and The French Arms; you can stay at The Louvre for eight livres a day and pay seven or eight livres for a gondola hire, and so on, with similar practical yet uninspired information. He then talks about sea sickness and tells us the best remedy is to always keep a piece of dirt near your nose, day and night; for this, you should get enough dirt and keep it fresh in a clay pot. When the piece you have starts to dry out, put it back in the pot and take out some fresh dirt.^[404]

Berchtold's suggestions for comfort are even more detailed. One should carry everywhere:

"A bottle of vinegar, of four thieves.
The same for the best French brandy.
The same for spirit of sal ammoniac, for convulsions.
The same for Hoffman's Drops."

At inns, it's a good idea to freshen up the room by tossing a bit of strong vinegar on a hot shovel and to bring your own bedding. To protect against thieves, it's wise to have your servant sleep in the same room with you, keep a wax candle lit all night, and check the chests and behind the bed before going to sleep. You can easily find pocket door-bolts shaped like a cross; if not, just put tables and chairs against the door.

There’s something overly particular about such a traveler, even though robbers were certainly a real concern, even in the eighteenth century,^[405] and inns were undeniably filthy. A dislike for dirt and discomfort makes sense, but there's something particularly irritable in the tone of many Georgian travelers. Sam Sharp's Letters from Italy are filled with sorrow, disappointment, and anger. He frequently laments about Italian beds and pests, and the sad state of the Italian post-boys and their sorry horses. He even claims that the young men he always imagined would be thrilled by the Grand Tour are actually very homesick for England. They are tired of the endless drives and long conversations in Italy and yearn for the fox-hunting in Great Britain.^[406] Fielding's account of his trip to Lisbon includes too much about his wife's toothache and his own swelling.^[407] Smollett, like Fielding, was ill during his travels, and we can understand his anger at the dirty floors, old rotten tables, unstable chairs, and beds so revolting that he often wrapped himself in a coat and lay across four chairs with a leather suitcase for a pillow; however, we cannot admire a man who is embittered by not being able to get milk for his tea and is constantly sticking his head out the window to shout at the post-boys, or pulling out his post-book to angrily read to an inn yard the rule that the first traveler should be served first.^[408]

This is a decline from the fearless spirit of the Elizabethans, who, despite knowing about filthy inns and dishonest landlords, kept their spirits high above the practical challenges of travel. In eighteenth-century accounts, we miss the cheerful tone of Roger Ascham's Report of Germany and the elegant boat with nice glass windows in which he traveled up the Rhine—cheerfulness that didn't waver even when he had to spend the night in the boat, with his tired head resting on his saddle for a pillow.^[409] We miss the camaraderie with which John Taylor, the Water Poet, shared ribs of roast beef he brought from Great Britain with six strangers in the coach from Hamburg.^[410] While the travel books of the eighteenth century can be quite entertaining, nothing warms the heart like the adventures of poor Tom Coryat, that obsessed traveler, leader of the tribe of Gad, who was undeterred in his quest to see the world. He often slept in wagons and open boats, and although he couldn't afford to hire the guides with sedan chairs who led travelers over the Alpine passes in those days, he followed them on foot, panting.^[411]

So, even though travel is endless, and the "peregrinatio animi causa" of the sixteenth century isn’t that different from the Wanderlust of the nineteenth, we feel we've reached the end of a certain phase of travel that began in the Renaissance. The decline of the courtier, the broader reach of universities, the rise of journalism, and England's growing power shifted the mindset of the English traveler from eager desire to relaxed enjoyment. With this shift in attitude came the end of essays praising travel, written by scholars and gentlemen for their peers; meant for those "Who, wherever he directs his journey, travels for the greater benefit of his wit, for the improvement of his studies, and skillfulness in life,--he who moves more in mind than in body."^[412] We hope we've done something to bring these essays out of the obscurity they’ve fallen into, to show the social context from which they came, and to capture their enthusiasm for self-improvement and their spirited disdain for a lazy, easy life.

1561. Gratarolus, Guilhelmus. By Gratarolo Guilhelmo, philosopher and physician, On the Management of Travelers, whether on horseback, on foot, by ship, or by cart ... two very useful books for travelers and pilgrims, now first published. Basel, 1561.

1570-1. Cecil, William, Lord Burghley: Letter to Edward Manners, Earl of Rutland, among State Papers, Elizabeth, 1547-80, vol. lxxvii. No. 6.

1574. Turlerus, Hieronymus. On the Journey and the Neapolitan Land, Books II. Written by Hieronymus Turlerus. Useful and necessary for all travelers; published for the first time for their benefit. Strasbourg, year 1574.

1575 ---- The Traveler of Jerome Turler, divided into two books, the first containing a remarkable discussion on the way and order of traveling overseas, or to strange and foreign countries, the second comprising an excellent description of the beautiful kingdom of Naples in Italy; a work very enjoyable for everyone to read, and truly useful and necessary for all those who wish to travel. London, 1575.

1577. Pyrckmair, Hilarius. Commentariolus on the art of travel or the true way to wander. Written by Hilarius Pyrckmair of Landshut. Ingolstadt, 1577.

1577. Zwinger, Theodor. Apodemica Method: A Guide for Those Who Wish to Travel Profitably in Any Lifestyle, by Theod. Zwinger. Printed in Basel, illustrated with various examples, especially four vivid ones from Athens. Basel, 1577.

1578. Bourne, William. A Book Called the Treasure for Travelers, Divided into Five Parts, Containing Very Necessary Matters for All Sorts of Travelers, Either by Sea or by Land. London, 1578.

1578. ---- A Regiment for the Sea, containing very necessary matters for all sorts of men and workers: newly corrected and improved by Thomas Hood. London, 1578.

1578. Lipsius, Justus. On the Reason for Traveling with Profit, Especially in Italy. (In Letter to Ph. Lanoyum.) Justi Lipsii Select Letters: fol. 106. Paris, 1610.

1580. Sidney. Sir Philip Sidney to his brother Robert Sidney when he was on his travels; advising him on what route to take; how to conduct himself, what authors to read, etc. In Letters and Memorials of State, collected by Arthur Collins. London, 1746.

1587. Pighius (Stephanus Vinandus). Hercules Prodicius, or the Life and Travels of a Young Ruler. From the press of C. Plantin. Antwerp, 1587.

1587. Meierus, Albertus. Method for Describing Governments, Cities, and Fortresses, and What Notable and Learned People Should Especially Notice, Observe, and Record in Their Travels. By M. Albertus Meierus. Helmstadt, 1587.

1589. ---- Certain brief and special instructions for gentlemen, merchants, students, soldiers, sailors ... engaged in services abroad or in any way required to interact in the kingdoms and governments of foreign princes. London, 1589. (Translation by Philip Jones.)

1592. Stradling, Sir John. A Direction for Travelers taken from Justus Lipsius and expanded for the benefit of the right honorable Lord, the young Earl of Bedford, who is now ready to travel. London, 1592.

1595. Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex (or Bacon?). Harl. MS. 6265, p. 428. Useful instructions, for Roger Manners, Earl of Rutland.

1595 (?). Davison, William (Secretary of Queen Elizabeth.) Harl. MS. 6893. Instructions for Travel.

1598. Loysius, Georgius. G. Loysii Curiovoitlandi Pervigilium Mercurii, which discusses the outstanding virtues of the wandering, ... Curiæ Variscorum, 1598.

1598. Dallington, Sir Robert. A Method for Travel, shown by taking a look at France as it was in the year of our Lord, 1598. N.D., London, printed by Thomas Creede.

c. 1600. A True Description and Direction of what is most worthy to be seen in all Italy. Anonymous, N.D. Harleian Miscellany, vol. v. No. 128.

1604. Pitsius, Joannes, Seven Books on Pilgrimage by Joannis Pitsii, Doctor of Sacred Theology from England. Düsseldorf, 1604.

1605 (?). Neugebauer, Salomon. Tractatus de peregrinatione ... illustrated with historical, ethical, and political examples ... with an index of things and examples. Basel.

1606. Palmer, Thomas. An Essay of the Means to Make Our Travels to Foreign Countries More Profitable and Honorable. London, 1606.

1608. Ranzovinus, Henricus Count. Method of Traveling and Exploring Regions, Cities, and Strongholds ... (With a dedication by Tob. Kirchmair.) Argentinæ, 1608.

1609. Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke. A Letter of Travel, to his cousin Greville Varney. (In Certain Learned and Elegant Works of the Right Honorable Fulke, Lord Brooke. London, 1633.)

1611. Kirchnerus, Hermannus. An Oration made by Hermannus Kirchnerus ... on this topic; that young men should travel to foreign countries, and all those who seek the approval of education and accomplishing noble deeds both at home and abroad. (In Coryat's Crudities, London, 1611.)

1616. Sincerus, Iodocus. Travel Guide to France, arranged in such a way that with moderate guidance, one can explore all of France, visit England and Belgium; without needing to return to the same places multiple times; highlighting the local attractions. Lyon, 1616.

1617. Moryson, Fynes. On Travel in General; On Advice for Travelers. (In the Itinerary of Fynes Moryson. Ed. Glasgow, 1907.)

1622. Peacham, Henry. The Compleat Gentleman. 1634 Ed., reprinted in Tudor and Stuart Library by Clarendon Press, with introduction by G.S. Gordon. Oxford, 1906.

1625. Bacon, Francis. Of Travel. In Works. Ed. James Spedding. London, 1859.

1631. Erpenius, Thomas. De Peregrinatione Gallica utiliter instituenda Tractatus. Leiden, 1631.

1633. Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex. Useful Tips: Outlining the key observations travelers should make in all nations, states, and countries; Enjoyable and Beneficial. By the highly regarded Robert, Late Earl of Essex, Sir Philip Sidney, and Secretary Davison. London, 1633.

1637. Wotton, Sir Henry. Letter of Instruction to John Milton, about to travel. In Life and Letters, ed. by Pearsall Smith. Oxford, 1907.

1639. The Journey to France, Prepared for the Instruction and Convenience of Both French People and Foreigners. Paris, 1639. (Du Verdier.)

1642. Howell, James. Instructions for Foreign Travel, Showing by what course, and in what timeframe, one can take an exact survey of the Kingdoms and States of Christendom, and gain practical knowledge of the languages for a good purpose. London, 1642.

1652. Evelyn, John. The State of France as it stood in the IXth year of this present Monarch, Lewis XIV. Written to a Friend by J. E. London, 1652. (Discussion of travel in the preface.)

1653. Zeiler, Martin. Fidus Achates who, on his journey, has a companion ... not only about the ... location of places but also about what mostly deserves to be seen ... advises ... Now translated from German into Latin by a certain Apodemophilo.... Ulm, 1653.

1656. Osborn, Francis. Travel, in Advice to a Son. Ed. E. A. Parry. London, 1896.

1662. Howell, James. A New English Grammar, which includes a Discussion or Dialogue featuring a Journey through Spain and Portugal that can guide you on how to travel through both countries. London, 1662.

c. 1665. Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon. A Dialogue concerning Education in A Collection of Several Tracts. London, 1727.

1665. Gerbier, Balthazar, Knight; Master of the Ceremonies to King Charles the First. Subsidium Peregrinantibus or An Assistance to a Traveller in his Convers ... directing him, after the latest Mode, to the greatest Honour, Pleasure, Security, and Advantage in his Travells. Written to a Princely Traveller for a Vade Mecum. Oxford, 1665.

1670: Lassels, Richard: The Voyage of Italy or a Complete Journey through Italy.... With Tips on Traveling; by Richard Lassels, Gent., who traveled through Italy five times as a tutor to various English nobility and gentry. Never before published. Newly printed in Paris and available for sale in London by John Starkey. 1670.

1670. ---- A Letter of Advice to a Young Gentleman Leaving the University, Concerning His Behavior and Conversation in the World, by R(ichard) L(assels). Dublin, 1670.

1671. Leigh, Edward. Three Diatribes or Discourses; First of Travel, or a Guide for Travelers to Foreign Lands; Secondly, of Money or Coins; Thirdly, of Measuring the Distance between Places. London, 1671.

1678. Gailhard, J. (Who has been a tutor abroad to several members of the nobility and gentry.) The Compleat Gentleman: or Directions for the Education of Youth regarding their Upbringing at Home and Traveling Abroad. London, 1678.

1693. Locke, John. Some Thoughts on Education. Fourth Edition. London, 1699.

1688. A Letter of Advice to a Young Gentleman of an Honorable Family, now in his Travels beyond the Seas: for his more safe and profitable conduct in the three great Instances, of Study, Moral Deportment and Religion. In three parts. By a True Son of the Church of England. London, 1688.

1688. Carr, Will, former Consul for the English Nation in Amsterdam. Remarks on the Government of Various Parts of Germany, Denmark ... but especially the United Provinces, with a few tips on how to travel in the States’ territories. Amsterdam, 1688.

1690. ---- The Travellers Guide and Historians Faithful Companion. [London? 1690?]

1695. Misson, Maximilian. A New Voyage to Italy: With a description of the Chief Towns ... Together with Useful Instructions for those who shall Travel thither. Translated into English, and illustrated with Figures. 2 vols. London, 1695.

Ascham, Roger. Works. Ed. Giles. London, 1865.

Aubrey, John. Letters Written by Influential People in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries; and Lives of Notable Men. London, 1813.

D'Aunoy, Marie Catherine Jumelle de Berneville, Countess. Account of the Trip to Spain. The Hague, 1691.

---- The Clever and Entertaining Letters of the Lady ... Travels into Spain. 2nd Ed. London, 1692.

Belvoir MSS. (Hist. MSS. Comm. 12th Report; Appendix, Part IV. MSS. of the Duke of Rutland preserved at Belvoir Castle.)

Bercherus, Gulielmus. Epitaphia et Inscriptiones Lugubres. Compiled by Gulielmo Berchero while traveling in Italy for personal reasons. Printed in London, 1566.

---- The Nobility of Women. Edited by Warwick Bond for the Roxburghe Club, 1904. (Written 1559.)

Bisticci, Vespasiano da. Lives of Notable Men of the 15th Century. in Collection of Unpublished or Rare Works. Florence, 1859.

Bodley, Sir Thomas. Life, Written by Himself. Privately reprinted for John Lane. London, 1894.

Boorde, Andrew. The First Book of the Introduction of Knowledge, by Andrew Boorde, Doctor of Physick; also A Compendious Regiment, or a Dietary of Health, compiled in Montpellier by Andrew Boorde, Doctor of Physick. Ed. F.J. Furnivail, for the Early English Text Society. Extra Series, IX.-X. London, 1869-70.

Botero, Giovanni. The Travellers Breviat, or an Historical Description of the Most Famous Kingdoms in the World. Translated into English. London, 1601.

---- A Treatise on the Causes of the Magnificence and Greatness of Cities, ... now translated into English by Robert Peterson of Lincoln's Inn, Gent. London, 1606.

---- Relations of the Most Famous Kingdoms and Commonwealths around the World.... London, 1608. (Translated by Robert Johnson.)

Bourdeille, Pierre de, Lord of Brantome. Memoirs, *... Including the Anecdotes of the Court of France, under Kings Henry II, Francis II, Henry III, and IV. A. Leyde, 1722.

Boyle, Robert. Works. Vol. i. (Life) and v. (Letters). London, 1744.

Breton, Nicholas. Works. Ed. A.B. Grosart. London, 1879.

---- Grimello's Fortunes, with his Entertainment in his Travels. London, 1604.

Browne, Sir Thomas. Works. Ed. Simon Wilkin. London, 1836. (Vol. i., containing Life and Correspondence.)

Burnet, Gilbert. Some Letters containing an account of what seemed most remarkable in Switzerland, Italy, etc. (Written to the Hon. Robert Boyle.) Printed 1687.

---- Three Letters about the Current Situation in Italy, written in 1687. Printed in 1688.

Camden, William. History or Annals of England. In A Complete History of England. Vol. ii. 1706.

Carew, George. A Relation of the State of France, with the Character of Henry IV. and the Principal Persons of that Court. Printed by Thomas Birch. London, 1749.

Cavendish, George. Life of Thomas Wolsey (written around 1557). Printed by William Morris at the Kelmscott Press, 1893.

Cavendish, Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle. Life of ... William Cavendishe, Duke of Newcastle. London, 1667.

---- Life of ... the Duke of Newcastle, to which is added "The True Story of My Birth, Upbringing, and Life." Ed. C.H. Firth. London, 1906.

Caxton, William. Dialogues in French and English. Edited from the text printed around 1483 by Henry Bradley for the Early English Text Society. Extra Series, lxxix. London, 1900.

Chapman, George. Monsieur d'Olive, in The Comedies and Tragedies of George Chapman. 3 vols. London, 1873.

Clenardus, Nicolaus. Epistolarum Libri Duo. Antwerp, from the workshop of Christophorus Plantinus, 1566.

Collectanea: First Series. Ed. C.R.L. Fletcher, for the Oxford Historical Society. Vol. v. Oxford, 1885.

Contarini, Gaspar. The Commonwealth and Government of Venice, written by Cardinal Gaspar Contareno, and translated from Italian into English by Lewes Lewkenor, Esquire, London, 1599.

Coryat, Thomas. Coryat's Crudities hastily gobbled up in five months of travels in France, Savoy, Italy, Rhetia, commonly called the Grisons country, Helvetia also known as Switzerland, some parts of high Germany and the Netherlands; newly digested in the hungry air of Odcombe in the county of Somerset, and now distributed for the nourishment of the traveling members of this kingdom. London, 1611. Reprint by James Maclehose & Sons. Glasgow, 1905.

Dallington, Robert. A Survey of the Great Dukes State of Tuscany in the year of our Lord 1596. Printed for Edward Blount in London, 1605.

A Description of the Antiquities, Foundations, and Uniqueness of the Most Famous Cities, Castles, and Notable Places in the Kingdom of France, Along with the Most Memorable Events That Have Occurred Here (by F. Des Rues). Constance, 1608.

Dudithius, Andreas. Vita Reginaldi Poli. Venice, 1558.

Erasmus, Desiderius. Opera Omnia. Leiden, 1703. (Volume Three that includes the letters.)

God's Way of Operating. Basel, 1524.

---- Conversations of Des. Erasmus of Rotterdam. Basel, 1542.

Evelyn, John. Diary and Correspondence. Ed. William Bray. London, 1906.

Fénélon, De La Mothe. Diplomatic Correspondence. Volume Six. Paris and London, 1840.

Ferrar, Nicholas. Two Lives: By his Brother John and by Doctor Jebb. Ed. J.E.B. Mayor. 1855.

Florio, Giovanni. Florio, His First Fruits: which offers everyday language, funny proverbs, clever sayings, and wise quotes. It also provides a comprehensive introduction to both Italian and English as shown in the table... Printed by Thomas Dawson for Thomas Woodcocke. London, 1578.

---- Florios Second Fruites to be gathered from twelve trees, with different but delightful tastes for the palates of Italians and Englishmen. ... London, 1591.

France: The Survey or Topographical Description of France; with a new Map.... Collected from various reliable sources; very thoroughly, accurately, and historically organized for the enjoyment of those who wish to be well-informed about the condition of the kingdom and dominion of France. London, 1592.

---- The View of France. Printed by Symon Stafford. London, 1604.

Fuller, Thomas. The Church History of Britain from the Birth of Jesus Christ until the year 1648. Written by Thomas Fuller. London, 1655.

---- History of the Worthies of England. 2 vols, London, 1811.

Gascoigne, George. The Posies. Ed. J.W. Cunliffe. Cambridge University Press, 1907.

Gerbier, Balthazar. The Interpreter of the Academy for Foreign Languages and all Noble Sciences and Practices. 1648.

---- The First Lecture of an Introduction to Cosmography: being a Description of all the World. Read Publicly at Sir Balthazar Gerbier's Academy. London, 1649.

---- Sir Balthazar Gerbier's Proposal for a Royal Academy in England. No. XXI. in Collectanea Curiosa. Oxford, 1781.

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey. Queen Elizabeth's Academy. Ed. by F.J. Furnivall for the Early English Text Society. Extra Series VIII. London, 1869.

Goodall, Baptist. The Tryall of Travell. London, 1630.

Googe, Barnaby. Epilogues, Epitaphs, and Sonnets. 1563.

---- The Zodiac of Life written by ... Pallingenius ... newly translated into English verse by Barnabe Googe. London, 1565.

Greene, Robert. Greene's Mourning Garment, The Carde of Fancie, and Mamillia; in Life and Complete Works in Prose and Verse. 12 vols. Ed. A.B. Grosart for the Huth Library, 1881-83.

Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke. Life of the Renowned Sir Philip Sidney.... Written by ... his Companion and Friend. London, 1652.

---- Life of Sir Philip Sidney. Tudor and Stuart Library. Oxford, 1907.

Guide to the Roads for Traveling to and from All the Countries and Regions of the Kingdom of France, with the Names of the Rivers and Streams That Flow Through These Lands. Paris (1552). (By C. Estienne.)

Hall, Arthur. A Letter sent by F.A. about the events in a private dispute and bad feelings between Arthur Hall and Melchisedich Mallerie, Gentleman, to his dear friend L.B. in Italy. (Printed in Antiqua Anglicana, vol. i. London, 1815.)

Hall, Edward. Life of Henry VIII. Reprint with an introduction by Charles Whibley. London, 1904.

Hall, Joseph. Quo Vadis? A Fair Critique of Travel as Pursued by the Gentlemen of Our Nation. London, 1617. Reprinted in Works. Ed. P. Wynter, for the Clarendon Press. Oxford, 1863.

Hamilton, Count Antoine. Memoirs of the Count de Grammont. New Edition Enlarged with Necessary Notes and Explanations by Mr. Horace Walpole. Printed at Strawberry Hill, 1772.

Harleian Miscellany, vol. ii. A Recent Trip to Holland, with brief Accounts of Events at the Hague: also Observations on the Manners and Customs, Nature, and Humorous Traits of the People.... Written by an English Gentleman, attending the Court of the King of Great Britain. 1691.

---- Vol. iii. A Report on the events that occurred during the journey of the Rt. Hon. Chas. Earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral of England, his Highness's Ambassador to the King of Spain. By Robert Treswell, Esq., Somerset-Herald. 1605.

Harrison, William. A Description of England in Holinshed's Chronicles. Ed. by L. Withington, with introduction by F.J. Furnivall. Camelot Series. (1876?)

Hatfield MSS. Calendar of Manuscripts of the Most Honorable the Marquis of Salisbury, K.G., kept at Hatfield House.

Hentzner, Paul. Travel Journal of Germany, France, England, Italy. Nuremberg, 1612.

Herbert, Edward, Lord of Cherbury. Satyra Secunda, of Travelers from Paris. To Ben Jonson. In Occasional Verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbury. London, 1665.

---- Autobiography. Edited by Sidney Lee. London, 1907.

Heylyn, Peter. A Full Relation of two Journeys; the one into the Mainland of France, the other into some of the adjacent Islands. London, 1656.

----France Captured Clearly by an Educated and Unbiased Author. The Second Edition. London, 1657.

Hoby, Thomas. The Travels and Life of Sir Thomas Hoby. Written by Himself, 1547-1564. Ed. Edgar Powell for Camden Society, Third Series, vol. iv. 1902.

---- The Book of the Courtier. Introduction by Walter Raleigh in Tudor Translations. Ed. W.E. Henley. Vol. xxiii. London, 1900.

Howard, James. The English Mounsieur. London, 1674.

Howell, James. Familiar Letters of James Horvell. Ed. J. Jacobs. 1892 (first edition 1645).

----A Survey of the Signorie of Venice, of her admired policy and method of government,... with a call to all Christian Princes to respond to her dangerous situation right now. London, 1651.

Information for Pilgrims to the Holy Land, c. 1496. Ed. E. Gordon Duff. London, 1893.

Jonson, Ben. Works. Ed. Gifford. 11 vols. 1875.

La Noue, François de. Political and Military Discourses. Basel, 1587.

Leland, John. Commentarii de Scriptoribus Britannicis. Oxford: Theatro Sheldoniano, 1709.

Lemnius, Levinus. A Touchstone of Complexions. Translated by T. Newton. (1576.)

Lewkenor, Samuel, Gentleman. A Discourse not entirely unhelpful or unpleasant for those who want to learn about the locations and customs of foreign cities without having to travel to see them; featuring a discussion of all the cities that currently host privileged Universities. London, 1600.

Lloyd, David. State-Worthies. London, 1766.

Locke, John. Life and Letters, with excerpts from his journals and notebooks; by Lord King. London, 1858.

Lismore Papers: Ed. A.B. Grosart. First Series, vol. 5; Second Series, Vols. 4 and 5. 1886.

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The Gentleman's Academy; or The Book of Saint Albans;... restructured into a better format by G.M. London, 1595.

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Villainie's Scourge. London, 1598.

Milton, John. Defensio secunda pro Populo Anglicano, contra Alexandrum Morum Ecclesiasten. Amsterdam, 1798. (Opera Omnia Latina.)

Montfaucon, Bernard de. The Travels of the Learned Father Montfaucon from Paris through Italy (in 1698-9), Translated into English from the Paris Edition. London, 1712.

Munday, Anthony. The English Romayne Life Written by A. Munday, once a scholar at the Pope's seminary. London, 1590.

Munster, Sebastian. Cosmographiæ universalis Libri VI. Basel, 1550.

Nash, Thomas. Works. Ed. Grosart. 6 vols. 1883-5.

---- The Unfortunate Traveller, or The Life of Jacke Wilton. London, 1594.

Negri, Cesare. New Inventions of Dance: A Very Fine Work by Cesare Negri of Milan, Known as the Trombone, a Famous and Excellent Dance Teacher. Milan, 1604.

North, The Hon. Roger. Lives of the Norths, along with the Author's Autobiography; Ed. A. Jessopp. London, 1890.

Original Letters Illustrative of English History ... from autographs in the British Museum. With notes by Henry Ellis, Keeper of MSS. in the British Museum. London, 1844.

Overbury, Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas Overbury, His Wife, with additions of New News, and various more Characters (never before included) written by himself and other knowledgeable gentlemen. The tenth edition enhanced. London, 1618.

----Sir Thomas Overbury, his Observations in his Travels on the State of the 17 Provinces as they stood in the Year of Our Lord 1609. [London], 1626.

Owen, Lewis. The Running Register: Recording a True Account of the State of the English Colleges, Seminaries, and Cloisters in All Foreign Parts. London, 1626.

Pace, Richard. The Fruit of Knowledge Gained Through Learning, by the Most Invincible King of England's Chief Secretary and His Ambassador to the Swiss, Richard Pace. Published in the Esteemed Basel (1517).

Paulet, Sir Amias. Copy-Book of Sir Amias Paulet's Letters written during his Embassy to France, A.D. 1577. From MS. in the Bodleian, edited by O. Ogle for the Roxburghe Club. 1866.

Penn, William. An Account of W. Penn's Travels in Holland and Germany Year 1677. For the Service of the Gospel of Christ, in the form of a Journal. It also includes Various Letters and Epistles to several Notable and Distinguished Persons while he was there. London, 1694.

Pilgrim-Book of the Ancient English Hospice linked to the English College in Rome from 1580-1656, and Diary of the same college 1578-1773, published by Henry Foley in Records of the English Province of the Society of Jesus, vol. vi.

Pluvinel, Antoine. The Royal Maneige where one can observe the faults and the perfection of the knight in all the exercises of this art, worthy of princes, created and practiced in the training of the King by Antoine Pluvinel, his Chief Squire, Advisor in his Council of State, his Ordinary Chamberlain, and Deputy Governor of His Majesty. All illustrated and represented in large soft-style figures by Crispian de Pas, a Flemish artist, in honor of the King and in memory of Mr. Pluvinel. Paris, 1624.

Raymond, John. Il Mercurio Italico, Communicating a Voyage made through Italy in the years 1646 and 1647 by J.R., Gent. London, 1648.

Réaux, Tallemant des. Historiettes. Paris, 1834.

Sandys, George. A Relation of a Journey begun An. Dom. 1610. Four Books, Containing a description of the Turkish Empire of Egypt, of the Holy Land, of the Remote Parts of Italy, and the Islands adjoining. London, 1615.

Schottus, Franciscus. Travel through Italy and the Roman World: Three Books by Franc. Schotto I.C., based on ancient and modern writers, published for those visiting Rome in the Holy Jubilee year. Antwerp, from the Plantin press, at Joann Moret's. In the Sacred Year, 1600.

Shirley, James. Dramatic Works and Poems. Ed. A. Dyce. 6 vols. London, 1833.

Sidney, Sir Philip. Correspondence with Hubert Languet, compiled by S.A. Pears. London, 1845.

Smith, Richard. Sloane MS. 1813, containing the Journal of R. Smith, Gentleman, who traveled to Italy with Sir Edward Unton in 1563.

Spelman, William. A Dialogue or Confabulation between two travelers which discusses civil and political government in various kingdoms and countries. MS. c. 1580, edited by J.E.L. Pickering. London, 1896.

Stanhope, Philip, Second Earl of Chesterfield. Letters to several celebrated Individuals of the time of Charles II, James II, William III, and Queen Anne, with some of their replies. London, 1829.

State Papers, Domestic, 1547-80. Vols. xviii.-xx. passim, in the Public Record Office, London. (For correspondence of Sir William Cecil with his son Thomas Cecil in Paris.)

Stow, John. A Survey of London. Reprinted from the text of 1603 and edited by C.L. Kingsford. Oxford, 1908.

Strype, John. Life of the Learned Sir Thomas Smith, Secretary of State of King Edward the Sixth, and Queen Elizabeth. Oxford, 1820.

----Annals of the Reformation. Oxford, 1824.

----Life of Edmund Grindal. Oxford, 1821.

----Life of Sir John Cheke. Oxford, 1821.

Talbot MSS., in the College of Arms, London. Vol. P. fol. 571. (For correspondence of Gilbert Talbot in Italy in 1570.)

Taylor, John. All the Works of John Taylor the Water Poet. Being Sixty-Three in number, collected into one volume by the Author. London, 1630.

Temple, Sir William. Observations on the United Provinces and the Netherlands. London, 1673.

Thomas, William. The History of Italy, a book extremely useful to read; because it discusses the state of many different commonwealths, how they have been, and how they are currently governed. 1549.

----The Pilgrim, A Dialogue on the Life and Actions of King Henry the Eighth. Ed. J.A. Froude. London, 1861.

Warner, William. Pan his Syrinx, Compact of seven Reedes; including in one, seven Tragical and Comicall Arguments. London (1584).

Webbe, Edward. Travailes (1590). Ed. E. Arber. London, 1868.

Weldon, Sir Anthony. The Court and Character of King James: Written and Taken by Sir A. W.(eldon). London, 1650.

Wey, William. Itineraries of William Wey, Fellow of Eton College, to Jerusalem, A.D. 1458 and A.D. 1462; and to Saint James of Compostela, A.D. 1456: from the manuscript in the Bodleian. Printed for the Roxburghe Club. London, 1857.

Whetstone, George. A Remembrance of the Well-Lived Life and Noble End of George Gascoigne, Esquire, Who Passed Away in Stamford, Lincolnshire on October 7, 1577. The Account of George Whetstone, Gent., an Eyewitness of His Godly and Charitable End in This World. Printed in London for Edward A(?)ggas, who lives in Paul's Churchyard, and available for sale there. [1577.]

Wilson, Thomas. The Art of Rhetoric, for the use of anyone interested in Eloquence, published in English by Thomas Wilson. 1553.

----Reprint of the 1560 edition, edited by G.H. Mair for the Tudor and Stuart Library. Oxford, 1909.

Winwood Memorials. Records of Government Affairs during the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and King James I., gathered from the Original Papers of the Hon. Sir Ralph Winwood, Kt. 3 vols. London, 1725.

Wood, Anthony à. Athenæ Oxonienses. Ed. Bliss. London, 1820.

Addison, Joseph. Remarks on Several Parts of Italy ... in the years 1701, 1702, 1703. London, 1705.

A Letter from Italy to the Right Honourable Charles, Lord Halifax, by Mr. Joseph Addison, 1701. Printed London, 1709.

Andrich, I.A. On the English and Scottish Jurists of the University of Padua from the year 1222 AD to 1738 AD. Prefaced by Blasius Brugi. Published in Padua by the Gallina Brothers in 1892.

Avenel, Le Vicomte G. D'. French Nobility Under Richelieu. Paris, 1901.

Babeau, Albert. Travelers in France from the Renaissance to the Revolution. Paris, 1885.

Bapst, Edmund. Two Gentlemen-Poets at the Court of Henry VIII. Paris, 1891.

Baretti, Joseph. An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy: with Observations on the Mistakes of Some Travelers Regarding That Country. London, 1768.

----An Appendix to the Account of Italy, in response to Samuel Sharp, Esq London, 1769.

Bear-Leaders, The: or Modern Traveling Explained in a Clear Way, in a Letter to the Rt. Honorable the Earl of ... London, 1758.

Beckmann, Johann. Literature of the Older Travel Narratives. Göttingen, 1808.

----Physico-economic library featuring the latest books on natural history, natural sciences, and rural and urban economies, providing reliable and comprehensive information, by Johann Beckmann ... Professor of Economic Sciences. Volume 21. Göttingen, 1802.

Berchtold, Count Leopold. An Essay to Guide and Expand the Inquiry of Patriotic Travelers; with Additional Observations on How to Keep the Life, Health, and Property of Those New to Their Journeys by Land and Sea Safe. Also a Series of Questions, that are Relevant to Society and Humanity, which need to be Posed for Solutions to People of All Statuses and Professions and from All Nations and Governments, covering the most Important Issues Related to the Goals of All Travels. London, 1789.

Birch, Thomas. The Court and Times of James the First. London, 1848.

---- The Court and Times of Charles the First. London, 1848.

---- Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth from 1581 till 1603, from the papers of Anthony Bacon, Esq. London, 1754.

---- Life of Henry, Prince of Wales. London, 1760.

Bonnaffé, Edmund. Travelers and Travels of the Renaissance. Paris, 1895.

Bourciez, Eduard. Polite Customs and Court Literature under Henry II. Paris, 1886.

Burgon, J.W. Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham. London, 1839.

Carte, Thomas. Life of James, Duke of Ormond. 6 vols. Oxford, 1851.

Congreve, William. Comedies. 2 vols. London, 1895.

Coriat Junior (Sam Paterson, Bookseller). Another Traveller: or Casual Thoughts and Critical Observations from a Trip through Part of the Netherlands at the End of 1766. 2 vols. London, 1767.

Cust, Mrs. Henry. Gentlemen Errant. London, 1909.

Devereux, W.B. Lives and Letters of the Devereux, Earls of Essex. 2 vols. London, 1853.

Dodd, Charles. Church History of England from the Start of the Sixteenth Century to the Revolution in 1688. Ed. by Rev. M.A. Tierney. 4 vols. London, 1841.

Einstein, Lewis. The Italian Renaissance in England. Columbia University Press, New York, 1902.

Feuillerat, Albert. John Lyly. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1910.

Fielding, Henry. Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. Ed. by Austin Dobson. Chiswick Press, 1892.

Foote, Samuel. Dramatic Works. 4 vols. London, 1783.

Gibbon, Edward. Autobiography. Edited by John Murray, with an introduction by the Earl of Sheffield. London, 1896.

Gray, Thomas. Gray and His Friends; Letters and Relics Mostly Unpublished Until Now. Ed. by D.C. Tovey. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1890.

----Letters of Thomas Gray. Edited by D.C. Tovey. 2 volumes. London, 1900.

Jöcher, Christian Gottlieb. Gelehrten-Lexicon. Leipzig, Delmerhorst and Bremen, 1750-87.

Jusserand, J.J. Sports and Games in Ancient France. Paris, 1901.

Knight, Samuel. The Life of Dr John Colet. Oxford, 1823.

Lodge, Edmund. Illustrations of British History. 3 vols. London, 1791.

Mathew, A.H. The Life of Sir Tobie Matthew, by his relative. London, 1907.

Maugham, H. Neville. The Book of Italian Travel. London, 1903.

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley. Letters and Works. Edited by her great-grandson Lord Wharncliffe, with additions by W. Moy Thomas. 2 vols. London, 1893.

Nares, Edward. Memoirs of Lord Burghley. 3 vols. 1831.

Nicolas, Sir Harris. Memoirs of the Life and Times of Sir Christopher Hatton, K.G. London, 1847.

Nolhac, Pierre De. Erasmus in Italy. Paris, 1898.

Nugent, Thomas. The Grand Tour. 4 vols. London, 1778.

Physical-Economic Library, XXI. Video Beckmann, Johann.

Pinkerton, John. Voyages and Travels. Vol. 17. London, 1814.

Poole, R., Doctor of Physick. A Journey from London to France and Holland; or the Traveller's Useful Handbook.... It also includes various Moral Reflections and Useful Observations. London, 1746.

----The Beneficent Bee; or Traveler's Companion, featuring Daily Observations from a Voyage from London to Gibraltar ... filled with many helpful Insights and occasional Remarks. London, 1753.

Rashdall, H. The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages. Oxford, 1895.

Rye, W.B. England as seen by Foreigners in the Days of Elizabeth and James the First. London, 1865.

Sauval, Henri. History and Research of the Antiquities of the City of Paris. Paris, 1724.

Seebohm, Frederic. *The Oxford Reformers.* London, 1887.

(Seward, William.) Anecdotes of Some Distinguished Persons, mainly from the Present and two Previous Centuries. 5 vols. London, 1796.

Sharp, Samuel. Letters from Italy, Describing the Customs and Manners of That Country in the Years 1765-1766. Including a Note to Gentlemen Traveling Through the Alps on Their Tour of Italy. London, 1767.

---- A View of the Customs, Manners, Drama, etc., of Italy as they are described in The Frustra Letteraria; and in the Account of Italy in English written by Mr Baretti; compared with the Letters from Italy written by Mr Sharp. London, 1768.

Smith, Edward. Foreign Visitors in England. London, 1889.

Smollett, Tobias. Works. Ed. W.E. Henley. London, 1899.

Stanhope, Philip Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield. Letters to His Son. Published by Mrs. Eugenia Stanhope from the originals now in her possession. 2 vols. London, 1774.

Thicknesse, Philip. Observations on the Customs and Manners of the French Nation in a Series of Letters in which that Nation is vindicated from the Misrepresentations of some Late Writers. London, 1766.

The Travelers. A Satire. London, 1778.

Verney, Margaret. Memoirs of the Verney Family during the Commonwealth, 1650-1660. Vol. iii. London, 1894.

Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet). Philosophical Letters. Edited by Gustave Lanson. Paris, 1909.

Walpole, Horace, Fourth Earl of Orford. Letters. Edited by Peter Cunningham. 9 volumes. London, 1891.

Academies, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
    in France, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
    proposals for academies in England, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__;
    objections to such academies, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__

Acworth, George, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__

Addison, Joseph, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__

Advice to Travellers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__;
    Elizabethan, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__;
    characteristics of Renaissance books of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__;
    admonitory side of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__;
    for the country gentleman, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__;
    guide-books of the __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__

Agricola, Rudolf, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_23__

Alps, the, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_24__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_25__

Ambassadors,
    training for, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_26__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_27__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_28__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_29__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_30__;
    troubles of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_31__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_32__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_33__

Amorphus, in Cynthia's Revels, xii

Amsterdam, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_34__

Art in Spain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_35__;
    attention to in __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_36__th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_37__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_38__

Arundel, Earl of, see Howard

Ascham, Roger, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_39__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_40__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_41__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_42__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_43__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_44__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_45__



Bacon,
    Lady Anne, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_46__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_47__
    Anthony, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_48__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_49__
    Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_50__ note, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_51__:
        Of Travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_52__
    Sir Nicholas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_53__

Barker, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_54__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_55__

Bear-Leaders, the, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_56__

Becket, Thomas à, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_57__

Bedell, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_58__

Bedford, Earl of, see Russell

Bellay, Joachim Du, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_59__

Bembo, Pietro, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_60__

Berchtold, Leopold, Count, Essay to Direct and Extend the Inquiries of Patriotic Travellers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_61__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_62__

Berneville, Marie Catherine Jumelle de, Comtesse D'Aunoy, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_63__

Bethune, Maximilien de, Duc de Sully, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_64__

Blotz, Hugo, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_65__

Bobadil, Captain, in Every Man in His Humour, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_66__

Bodley, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_67__

Boleyn, George, Viscount Rochford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_68__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_69__

Boorde, Andrew, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_70__

Borssele, Anne, Lady of Veer, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_71__

Bothwell, Earl of, see Hepburn

Bourdeille, Pierre de, Seigneur de Brantome, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_72__

Bourne, William, Treasure for Travellers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_73__

Bowyer, Sir Henry, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_74__

Boyle, Richard, First Earl of Cork, and his sons Robert and Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_75__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_76__

Brandon, Charles, Duke of Suffolk, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_77__

Brantome, see Bourdeille

Bras-de-Fer, see La Noue

Browne, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_78__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_79__ note;
    his son at Padua, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_80__

Bryan, Sir Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_81__

Bucer, Martin, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_82__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_83__

Buckingham, Duke of, see Villiers

Burghley, Lord, see Cecil



Camden, Thomas, History of England, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_84__

Carew, Sir Nicholas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_85__

Carlton, Sir Dudley, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_86__

Cavendish,
    Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_87__
    William, Duke of Newcastle, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_88__

Cecil,
    Anne, Countess of Oxford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_89__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_90__
    Robert, Earl of Salisbury, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_91__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_92__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_93__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_94__
    Thomas, Earl of Exeter, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_95__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_96__ note, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_97__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_98__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_99__ note
    William, Baron of Burghley, l__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_100__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_101__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_102__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_103__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_104__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_105__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_106__
    William, Lord Cranbourne, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_107__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_108__
    William, Lord Roos, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_109__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_110__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_111__

Chamberlain, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_112__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_113__

Charles I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_114__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_115__

Charles II., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_116__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_117__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_118__

Chaucer, Geoffrey, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_119__

Chesterfield, Earls of, see Stanhope

Chichester, Bishop of, see Montague

Clarendon, Earl of, see Hyde

Clenardus, Nicolaus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_120__

Cleves, Charles Frederick, Duke of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_121__

Clothes, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_122__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_123__;
    French, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_124__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_125__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_126__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_127__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_128__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_129__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_130__;
    Italian, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_131__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_132__

Colbert, Jean Baptiste, Marquis de Seignelay, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_133__

Colet, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_134__

Compostella, St James of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_135__

Cork, Earl of, see Boyle

Cornwallis, Sir Charles, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_136__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_137__

Coryat, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_138__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_139__ note, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_140__

Cost, see Expense

Cottington, Sir Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_141__

Cranbourne, Lord, see Cecil

Cranmer, George, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_142__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_143__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_144__

Creswell, Joseph, Jesuit, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_145__

Crichton, James, "The Admirable," __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_146__

Curiosities, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_147__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_148__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_149__

Customs (droit d'aubaine) in Spain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_150__



Dallington, Sir Robert,
    Method for Travell, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_151__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_152__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_153__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_154__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_155__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_156__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_157__;
    Survey of Tuscany, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_158__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_159__;
    View of France, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_160__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_161__

Dancing, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_162__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_163__

Dangers of Travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_164__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_165__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_166__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_167__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_168__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_169__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_170__

D'Aunoy, see Berneville

Davison,
    Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_171__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_172__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_173__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_174__
    William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_175__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_176__

Delahaute, Antoine, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_177__

De Peregrinatione, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_178__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_179__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_180__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_181__

Derby, Earl of, see Stanley

Descartes, René, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_182__

Deschamps, Eustache, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_183__

Devereux,
    Robert, Second Earl of Essex, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_184__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_185__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_186__
    Robert, Third Earl of Essex, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_187__

Drake, Sir Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_188__

Dudley, Sir Robert, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_189__

Dyer, Sir Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_190__



Education, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_191__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_192__;
    see also Academies, Universities, Scholars, Ambassadors, Governors, Humanism

Edward VI., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_193__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_194__

Einstein, Lewis, Italian Renaissance in England, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_195__

Ellis, Sir Henry, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_196__

Englishmen,
    their special reason for traveling, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_197__;
    peculiarities, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_198__;
    Italianate, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_199__;
    prejudices against foreigners, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_200__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_201__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_202__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_203__

Erasmus, Desiderius, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_204__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_205__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_206__

Essex, Earls of, see Devereux

Evelyn, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_207__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_208__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_209__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_210__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_211__

Expenses of travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_212__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_213__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_214__



Fairfax, Colonel Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_215__

Faubert, Mons., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_216__

Fencing, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_217__

Ferrar, Nicholas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_218__

Fielding, Henry, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_219__

Finch, Sir John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_220__

Fitzroy, Henry, Duke of Richmond, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_221__

Fleetwood, William, Recorder of London, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_222__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_223__

Flemming, Robert, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_224__

Florio, John, Second Frutes, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_225__

Flutter, Sir Fopling, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_226__

Food, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_227__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_228__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_229__

Foote, Samuel, The Englishman in Paris, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_230__

Forbes, James, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_231__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_232__

Foreigners, English prejudice against, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_233__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_234__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_235__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_236__

Fox, Richard, Bishop of Winchester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_237__

France,
    academies in, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_238__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_239__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_240__;
    affectations learned in, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_241__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_242__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_243__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_244__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_245__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_246__;
    arbiter of fashion, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_247__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_248__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_249__;
    gentlemen of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_250__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_251__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_252__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_253__;
    attraction for tourists, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_254__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_255__;
    loses some of its charm, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_256__

Francis I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_257__

Free, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_258__



Gailhard J., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_259__

Gardiner, Stephen, Bishop of Winchester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_260__

George I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_261__

Gerbier, Balthazar, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_262__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_263__;
    Subsidium Peregrinantibus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_264__

Germans,
    energetic travelers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_265__;
    Fynes Moryson's preference for, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_266__;
    slow to learn languages, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_267__ note

Germany,
    attraction of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_268__;
    women of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_269__;
    manners of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_270__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_271__;
    Ascham's Report of Germany, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_272__

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_273__

Gloucester, Duke of, see Henry

Governors, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_274__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_275__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_276__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_277__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_278__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_279__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_280__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_281__

Grand Tour, the, Origin of the term, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_282__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_283__

Gray, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_284__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_285__

Greek, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_286__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_287__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_288__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_289__

Greene, Robert, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_290__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_291__;
    Greene's Mourning Garment, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_292__;
    Quip for an Upstart Courtier, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_293__

Greville, Fulke, Lord Brooke, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_294__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_295__

Grey, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_296__

Grimani, Dominic, the Cardinal, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_297__

Grocyn, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_298__

Grosvenor, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_299__

Guide-books, see Advice to travellers

Gunthorpe, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_300__



Hall,
    Arthur, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_301__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_302__
    Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_303__
    Joseph, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_304__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_305__

Harington, Sir John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_306__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_307__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_308__

Harrison, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_309__

Harvey, Gabriel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_310__

Hatton, Sir Christopher, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_311__

Henri III., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_312__

Henri IV., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_313__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_314__

Henry VI., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_315__

Henry VIII., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_316__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_317__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_318__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_319__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_320__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_321__

Henry, Prince of Wales, son of James I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_322__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_323__ note, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_324__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_325__

Henry, Duke of Gloucester, son of Charles I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_326__

Hepburn, Francis Stewart, Earl of Bothwell, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_327__

Hertford, Earl of, see Seymour

Hoby, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_328__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_329__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_330__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_331__

Holland, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_332__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_333__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_334__

Horace, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_335__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_336__

Howard,
    Thomas, Fourth Duke of Norfolk, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_337__
    Thomas, Second Earl of Arundel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_338__

Howell, James, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_339__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_340__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_341__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_342__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_343__;
    Instructions for Forreine Travell, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_344__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_345__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_346__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_347__;
    Perambulations of Spain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_348__

Humanists, their sociability, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_349__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_350__

Humanism, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_351__

Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_352__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_353__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_354__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_355__;
    Dialogue of the Want of Respect Due to Age, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_356__



Il Cortegiano, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_357__

Informacon for Pylgrymes unto the Holy Land, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_358__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_359__

Inns, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_360__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_361__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_362__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_363__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_364__

Inquisition, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_365__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_366__ passim

Instructions for travellers, see Advice

Insurance, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_367__

Italianate Englishmen, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_368__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_369__ passim, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_370__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_371__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_372__

Italy,
    attraction of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_373__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_374__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_375__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_376__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_377__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_378__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_379__;
    evils of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_380__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_381__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_382__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_383__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_384__;
    universities of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_385__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_386__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_387__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_388__



Jaffa, port, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_389__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_390__

James I., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_391__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_392__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_393__

Jerusalem, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_394__

Jesuits, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_395__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_396__ passim

Johnson, Samuel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_397__

Jones, Philip, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_398__

Jonson, Ben, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_399__;
    Cynthia's Revels, xii;
    Preface to Coryat's Crudities, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_400__;
    Every Man out of his Humour, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_401__ note;
    Volpone, or the Fox, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_402__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_403__

Journals, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_404__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_405__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_406__

Jusserand, J.J., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_407__



Killigrew, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_408__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_409__

Kinaston, Sir Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_410__

Kirchnerus, Hermannus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_411__;
    Oration in Praise of Travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_412__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_413__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_414__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_415__



Langton, Thomas, Bishop of Winchester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_416__

Languages, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_417__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_418__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_419__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_420__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_421__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_422__

La Noue, François de, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_423__

Lassels, Richard, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_424__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_425__;
    The Voyage of Italy, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_426__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_427__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_428__

Latimer, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_429__

Leicester's, the Earl of, son, see Dudley

Leigh, Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_430__

Lewknor, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_431__

Licences for Travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_432__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_433__

Lichefield, Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_434__

Lily,
    William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_435__
    George, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_436__

Linacre, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_437__

Lipsius, Justus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_438__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_439__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_440__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_441__

Lister, Martin, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_442__

Locke, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_443__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_444__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_445__

Lodgings,
    with an ambassador, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_446__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_447__;
    with a bookseller, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_448__;
    with a scholar, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_449__;
    in Spain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_450__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_451__;
    see also Inns

Lorkin, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_452__

Louis XIII., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_453__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_454__

Louis XIV., __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_455__

Loysius, Georgius, Pervigilium Mercurii, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_456__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_457__

Lupset, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_458__



Machiavelli, Niccolo, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_459__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_460__

Maidwell, Lewis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_461__

Mallerie, Melchisedech, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_462__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_463__

Manners, Edward, Third Earl of Rutland, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_464__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_465__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_466__

Manutius, Aldus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_467__

Mason, Sir John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_468__

Mathew, Sir Tobie, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_469__ note

Meierus, Albertus, Methodus describendi regiones, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_470__

Milton, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_471__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_472__

Misson, Maximilian, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_473__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_474__;
    A New Voyage to Italy, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_475__

Mole, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_476__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_477__

Montagu, Richard, Bishop of Chichester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_478__

Morison, Sir Richard, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_479__

Moryson, Fynes, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_480__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_481__;
    Precepts for Travellers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_482__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_483__

Murder, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_484__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_485__ note



Nash, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_486__

Newcastle, Duchess and Earl of, see Cavendish

Norfolk, Duke of, see Howard

North, Dudley, Third Lord North, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_487__

Nuove Inventioni di Balli, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_488__



Osborn, Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_489__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_490__

Oxford, Earls of, see Vere



Pace, Richard, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_491__

Padua,
    Pole's household at, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_492__;
    University of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_493__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_494__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_495__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_496__

Palmer,
    Sir Thomas, "The Traveller," died 1626, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_497__
    Sir Thomas, died in Spain 1605, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_498__

Paris,
    life of Englishmen at, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_499__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_500__;
    medical students at, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_501__;
    see also France

Passports, see Licences

Paulet, Sir Amias, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_502__

Peacham, Henry, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_503__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_504__

Peregrine, in Volpone, or the Fox, xii

Peter Martyr, see Vermigli

Pighius, Stephanus Vinandus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_505__

Pignatelli, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_506__

Pilgrimages, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_507__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_508__

Pirates, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_509__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_510__

Plague, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_511__ note, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_512__

Plantin, Christophe, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_513__

Plato, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_514__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_515__

Plegsis, Armand du, Cardinal Richelieu, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_516__

Pluvinel, Antoine, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_517__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_518__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_519__

Pole, Reginald, Cardinal, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_520__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_521__

Politian (Angelo Ambrogini), __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_522__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_523__

Politick-Would-Be in Volpone, or the Fox, xii, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_524__

Pretender, the, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_525__

Pugliano, John Pietro, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_526__

Pyrckmair, Hilarious, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_527__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_528__



Raleigh's, Sir Walter, son, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_529__

Ramus, Peter, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_530__

Réaux, Tallemant des, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_531__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_532__

Religion, changes in, due to travel, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_533__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_534__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_535__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_536__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_537__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_538__ passim, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_539__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_540__

Renaissance, enthusiasm for travel, sources of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_541__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_542__;
    quest of virtù, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_543__

Richelieu, Cardinal and Duc de, see Plessis

Riding, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_544__;
    the Great Horse, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_545__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_546__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_547__ passim, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_548__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_549__

Robbers, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_550__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_551__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_552__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_553__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_554__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_555__

Rochford, Viscount, see Boleyn

Rome, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_556__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_557__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_558__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_559__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_560__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_561__

Ronsard, Pierre de, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_562__

Roos, Lord, see Cecil

Russell, Edward, Third Earl of Bedford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_563__

Rutland, Earl of, see Manners



St John's College, Cambridge, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_564__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_565__

St Lieger, Sir Anthony, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_566__

Salisbury, Earl of, see Cecil

Scholars, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_567__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_568__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_569__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_570__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_571__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_572__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_573__

Schottus, Franciscus, Itinerarium Italiæ, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_574__

Seignelay, Marquis de, see Colbert

Selling, William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_575__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_576__

Seymour, Edward, Earl of Hertford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_577__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_578__

Shakespeare, William,
    Two Gentlemen of Verona, xii;
    Taming of the Shrew, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_579__

Sharp, Sam, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_580__;
    Letters from Italy, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_581__

Sickness, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_582__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_583__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_584__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_585__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_586__

Sidney,
    Sir Philip, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_587__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_588__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_589__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_590__
    Robert, Earl of Leicester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_591__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_592__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_593__

"Sights," __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_594__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_595__

Smith,
    Richard, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_596__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_597__
    Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_598__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_599__

Smollett, Tobias, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_600__;
    Peregrine Pickle, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_601__

Spain,
    gentlemen of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_602__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_603__;
    discomforts of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_604__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_605__

Stanhope,
    Philip, Second Earl of Chesterfield, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_606__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_607__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_608__
    Philip Dormer, Third Earl of Chesterfield, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_609__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_610__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_611__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_612__

Stanley, William, Ninth Earl of Derby, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_613__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_614__

Starkey, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_615__

Stradling, Sir John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_616__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_617__

Students, see Universities

Sturmius, Joannes, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_618__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_619__

Sully, Duc de, see Bethune



Talbot, Gilbert, Seventh Earl of Shrewsbury, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_620__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_621__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_622__

Taylor, John, The Water Poet, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_623__

Temple, Sir William, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_624__

Tennis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_625__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_626__

Thomas, William,
    The Historie of Italie, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_627__;
    The Pilgrim, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_628__

Throgmorton, Michael, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_629__

Tiptoft, John, Earl of Worcester, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_630__

Transportation, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_631__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_632__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_633__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_634__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_635__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_636__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_637__

Tunstall, Cuthbert, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_638__

Turlerus, Hieronymus, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_639__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_640__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_641__;
    De Peregrinatione, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_642__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_643__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_644__ passim, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_645__

Tutors, see Governors



Ulysses, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_646__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_647__

Universities,
    of Italy, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_648__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_649__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_650__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_651__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_652__;
    of Spain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_653__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_654__;
    of England, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_655__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_656__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_657__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_658__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_659__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_660__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_661__

Unton, Sir Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_662__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_663__

Ursinus, Zacharias, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_664__



Valladolid, conversions at, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_665__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_666__

Veer, Lady of, see Borssele

Venice,
    charm of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_667__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_668__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_669__;
    clothes from, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_670__:
    inns at, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_671__

Vere, Edward de, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_672__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_673__

Vermigli,
    John de, Twelfth Earl of Oxford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_674__
    Peter, Martyr, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_675__

Verney, Edmund, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_676__

Villiers, George, Duke of Buckingham, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_677__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_678__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_679__



Wallis, John, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_680__

Walpole,
    Horace, Fourth Earl of Orford, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_681__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_682__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_683__
    Richard, Jesuit, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_684__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_685__

Walsingham,
    Sir Francis, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_686__
    Our Lady of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_687__

Wentworth, Thomas, Fourth Baron Wentworth, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_688__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_689__

Williamson, Sir Joseph, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_690__

Wilson, Thomas, Arte of Rhetoric, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_691__

Windebanke, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_692__

Wingfield,
    Sir Richard, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_693__
    Sir Robert, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_694__

Winsor, Sir Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_695__

Winter, Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_696__

Women, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_697__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_698__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_699__

Wood, Anthony à, ix, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_700__

Worde, Wynkin de, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_701__

Wotton,
    Sir Edward, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_702__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_703__
    Sir Henry, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_704__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_705__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_706__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_707__-__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_708__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_709__
    Sir Nicholas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_710__

Wyatt, Sir Thomas, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_711__



Zouche, Edward la, Eleventh Baron Zouche of Harringworth, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_712__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_713__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_714__

Zwingerus, Theodor, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_715__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_716__;
    Methodus Apodemica, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_717__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_718__