REAL
real
0723-0338
2941-0894
Narr Verlag Tübingen
121
2012
281
From Pilgrimage to Picaresque: Dimensions of Mobility in Late Medieval and Early Modern English Literature
121
2012
Ingo Berensmeyer
real2810003
I NGO B ERENSMEYER From Pilgrimage to Picaresque: Dimensions of Mobility in Late Medieval and Early Modern English Literature Mobility comes in many forms; there is no unified theory to encompass its heterogeneous multiplicity and varying cultural schemata. For example, in medieval literature, physical mobility can be beset with anxieties and a nostalgia for the home that has been lost, as in the Old English elegies of “The Wanderer” and “The Seafarer”, but it can also serve as a formula for adventure and heroic exploits, including self-exploration, for a hero like Gawain in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Furthermore, it can be a precondition for the telling of stories, as in the case of Chaucer’s pilgrims on the road to Canterbury. Movement through space can be many things: a religious exercise, a self-willed task, or a necessity imposed on the moving subject by society or destiny, as in literatures of exile or “literatures without a fixed abode.” 1 Forms and performances of mobility in the early modern period involve complex negotiations between individual experiences and social expectations, between selfhood and status, individuality and community. These negotiations are mediated - and thus further ‘socialised’ - in texts. From the later Middle Ages onwards, there is a shift from pilgrimage as a mode of communal experience to the loneliness of the urban individual, and finally to the (early) modern mode of the picaresque as a (temporary) solution to the dilemmas of individual mobility. The case studies chosen for this essay, ranging from Thomas Hoccleve to Isabella Whitney and William Shakespeare, all address individual mobility, as well as the mobile relationship between individuals and the community; they all refer the individual (back) to an experiential and spiritual model of pilgrimage, which increasingly appears like a lost ideal. Finally, these texts also invite modern readers to question tradi- Movement can be desirable as a spiritual experience, as in the pilgrimage; it can be a performance intended to entertain the public and to advertise the performer’s skills, as in William Kempe’s Nine Days Wonder, the account of his morris dance from London to Norwich in 1600; or it can include the illicit wanderings of the vagrant, generally criminalised and penalised in the early modern world. 1 Ottmar Ette, ZwischenWeltenSchreiben. Literaturen ohne festen Wohnsitz (ÜberLebenswissen II) (Berlin: Kulturverlag Kadmos, 2005) 16 (English in the original). I NGO B ERENSMEYER 4 tional assumptions on the ways in which the meaning of texts is affected by textual mobility in manuscript and print. Before embarking on this journey, however, I would like to suggest a heuristic model, based on a variant of cultural ecology, with which to describe and to systematise key dimensions of mobility as a concept for literary studies. I intend to demonstrate the potential range of mobility studies without proposing a coherent, all-encompassing theory of mobility. That said, I do wish to provide some indications of ways in which movement and mobility might be conceived in a non-reductionist manner. 1. Cultural Ecology and Mobility Studies Mobility is predicated on notions of movement and motion, which come in a staggering number of possibilities: actual or imagined, real or metaphorical, circular or linear, free or constrained, slow or speedy, absolute or relative. Since movement and motion are physical phenomena, they cannot themselves provide the ground on which they are to be described. Their cultural meanings are often metaphorical and context-dependent. In order to do justice to the complexity of this topic, the following proposal for ‘mobility studies’ is based on recent developments in cultural ecology - itself a highly mobile and as yet not fully formed interdisciplinary approach to understanding cultural processes. Current varieties of cultural ecology, especially in France and Germany, combine a wide range of theories, models and methods from various disciplines to create a highly fertile field of research. This understanding of the term ‘ecology’ transcends a narrow focus on the environment, as is frequently found in ecocriticism. The history of ecological thinking in the humanities, however, is in fact much older than many ecocritics care to acknowledge. When, in the 1930s and 1940s, scholars as different as Ernst Kantorowicz, Kenneth Burke and T.S. Eliot began to experiment with ecological thinking, they could not foresee its subsequent impact. Their own visions of an ecology of history, literature and culture are now, for the most part, forgotten; Burke’s “little fellow named ecology,” Eliot’s “ecology of cultures,” and Kantorowicz’s “ecology of history” are phantoms of the historical archive of literary and cultural studies. 2 2 See Marika A. Seigel, “‘One Little Fellow Named Ecology’: Ecological Rhetoric in Kenneth Burke’s Attitudes Toward History.” Rhetoric Review 23.4 (2004): 388-404. I wish to thank Gero Guttzeit for drawing my attention to this article. For Eliot’s coinage “ecology of cultures,” see T.S. Eliot, Notes Towards the Definition of Culture (London: Faber and Faber, 1963 (1948)), 58; for Ernst Kantorowicz’s “ecology of history,” see Ulrich Raulff, Kreis ohne Meister. Stefan Georges Nachleben (Munich: Beck, 2009), 340-41. In its most general sense, ecology can refer to a network of elements and processes, more or less sys- From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 5 tematically linked. Cultural ecology thus emphasises, in one current definition, the “highly complex multiplicity of mutually supplementing and interlaced systems of mental worlds.” 3 To this I would add those dimensions of culture that are based on concrete and material, non-mental interconnections between objects, actors, and their environments in cultural processes, for instance in the way that Bruno Latour and other actor-network theorists have redescribed agency in order to include material objects as “mediators” in a “parliament of things” that make a difference along chains of “circulating references.” 4 Because of its flexibility and high degree of generalisation, such a way of thinking offers a useful multi-perspectival approach to mobility in literature and culture, allocating the “circulating entities” 5 to a range of interconnecting levels - or, less hierarchically, dimensions - of mobility: - on the level of human beings as individual and/ or communal and social mobility; e.g. hidden or conspicuous, free or constrained movements, border-crossing, etc. 6 - on the level of texts, artefacts or objects, as follows: 1) on the intratextual level as mouvance 7 2) on the extratextual level of texts and other objects, goods or media: as portability; free or constrained circulation, individual manufacture or mass production; or variation (the changeability of individual texts, especially in manuscripts or early printed texts in different textual states) vs. stability and coherence; 3) on the interand transtextual level as the dynamics of genres, or as the persistence and/ or changeability in themes, characters, or aesthetic effects across time and space; e.g. adaptations, recyclings, etc. 3 Peter Finke, “Kulturökologie,” Einführung in die Kulturwissenschaften, ed. Ansgar and Vera Nünning (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2008), 248-79, 261 (my translation, IB). 4 See Bruno Latour, We Have Never Been Modern (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 1993) for the notion of a “parliament of things” (142-45); Latour, Pandora’s Hope: Essays on the Reality of Science Studies (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 1999) 24, 53, 72-73 (on “circulating reference”); Latour, Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network Theory (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007) 232-46 (on “mediators”). ANT is of course not the only candidate on the list of ‘post-human’ epistemologies/ ontologies; one could also consult such thinkers as Gilles Deleuze and Michel Serres; yet another philosophical reference point for Latour is the ‘speculative empiricism’ of A.N. Whitehead (see Pandora, 141, 153, 283; Reassembling, 218, 220). 5 Latour, Reassembling, 237. 6 Cf. Stephen Greenblatt, “A Mobility Studies Manifesto,” Greenblatt et al., Cultural Mobility: A Manifesto (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2010), 250-253, 250-51. 7 See Paul Zumthor, Essai de poétique médiévale. Collection Poétique (Paris: Seuil, 1972). I NGO B ERENSMEYER 6 - on the level of cultural mobility, in which processes of human and textual mobility are combined in complex networks, contact zones, and in dynamics of persistence and change. The ecological model, based on associations that evolve in space and time, might be able to account for movement and mobility without reducing them to any single level or label, not even to a label as prone to over-generalization as Stephen Greenblatt’s ‘cultural mobility.’ 8 If anything, cultural ecology allows us to see that not everything is cultural, just as not everything is text. But where do we place literature in such a framework? Should there be a privileged role for literary texts in cultural ecology, as Hubert Zapf claims? 9 Rather than according literature a special place in the “universe of discourse,” 10 I would argue for a return to the many-layered and essentially descriptive mode of analysis championed by Gregory Bateson, Clifford Geertz and Kenneth Burke. 11 In the following, I assume that individual textual performances are connected with larger cultural aspects and institutional settings, expectations and norms. They are implicated in processes of mobility on various levels, including genre dynamics and extratextual portability, as indicated above. Such an approach may be useful in understanding the connections, co-evolutive or competitive, between texts and other media, without postulating a goal-oriented process of modernisation. A culturalecological perspective on textuality can be more than a theory of discourse; it can, and should, take into account the material and institutional contexts of communication. 8 Stephen Greenblatt, “A Mobility Studies Manifesto,” Greenblatt et al., Cultural Mobility: A Manifesto (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2010), 250-253. 9 See Hubert Zapf, “Kulturökologie und Literatur. Ein transdisziplinäres Paradigma der Literaturwissenschaft,” Kulturökologie und Literatur. Beiträge zu einem transdisziplinären Paradigma der Literaturwissenschaft, ed. Hubert Zapf (Heidelberg: Winter, 2008), 15-44. Zapf’s reason for this claim is that literature is “a form of cultural textuality that has developed in coevolution with, and in a relationship of tension to, the modernization and civilization process” (ibid. 32, my translation, IB). But even if one assumes the development of literature to be related in this way to such a process (or processes - ignoring for the time being the question when this process is supposed to begin), the question remains why this assumption should result in a privileged function to literary texts, compared to other forms of textuality and signification that have co-evolved with modernity in a similar manner. 10 I am borrowing this term from C.K. Ogden and I.A. Richards, The Meaning of Meaning, A Study of the Influence of Language upon Thought and of the Science of Symbolism (New York: Harcourt, 1923), 102, 111. 11 Gregory Bateson, Steps to an Ecology of Mind (1972) (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2000); Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973); Kenneth Burke, Language as Symbolic Action: Essays on Life, Literature, and Method (Berkeley: U of California P, 1966). These are also forerunners of Latour’s insistence on description rather than explanation; see Reassembling 137, 146-7, 150, 154. From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 7 How are texts affected by mobility? On the one hand, a text (in the structuralist understanding as “an invariant system of relations” 12 ) can remain quite stable in different carrier media, across “different spatial, temporal, and medial situations.” 13 In this understanding, the meaning of the “integral signal unit” 14 that is the text is not, or only marginally, affected by portability (understood as the transport of an object that remains, to all intents and purposes, identical). On the other hand, if we understand meaning in a hermeneutic sense, as arising from an interaction between a text and its readers, this will be affected by different scribal or typographical, historical and geographical contexts. A poem by Mallarmé or Pound, encountered in a first edition, beautifully printed on high-quality paper, takes on a different meaning when encountered on a website surrounded by advertisements. 15 As Jorge Luis Borges famously imagines in his story “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quijote” (1939), Cervantes’ Don Quijote would not have the same meaning if it had been rewritten by a twentieth-century avantgarde writer, even if the text’s integral signal unit - the sequence of signs on the page - remains identical in this rewriting. This kind of mobility is not a form of transport, but of ‘waywardness,’ a much more radical process in which the object of portability becomes subject to change. 16 But not only do we need to account for the mobility of individual texts, we also have to consider the “migration of forms.” 17 Forms travel: as Franco Moretti has shown for the novel, similar genres have developed all over the world and are now in a continual process of exchange and intermingling. Mobility in this light is not the antipode of stability, but a precondition for the dynamic processes of literary evolution. Genres survive by forming connections, new “attachments” 18 by means of exchanges, adaptations and transfers. Such transfers ensure the survival of literature; canons intermittently stabilise the flow of variation. 19 12 Jurij Lotman, The Structure of the Artistic Text, trans. Gail Lenhoff and Ronald Vroon (Minneapolis: U of Michigan P, 1977), 54. 13 Ingo Berensmeyer, “Cultural Ecology and Chinese Hamlets,” New Literary History 42.3 (2011): 419-38, 420. 14 Lotman, 54. 15 See Jerome J. McGann, A Critique of Modern Textual Criticism (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1983); Black Riders: The Visible Language of Modernism (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1993). McGann distinguishes between the stable “linguistic code” and the variable “bibliographical codes” of a text. 16 See the contribution by Philip Erchinger in the present volume. 17 A term inspired by the motto for the Documenta 12 art exhibition, Kassel 2007, curated by Roger M. Buergel; see Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, April 24, 2007, Nr. 93, 48. 18 Yet another Latourian term: see Reassembling 236-37. For a tentative unfolding of its implications for literary and cultural studies, see Rita Felski, “‘Context Stinks! ,’“ New Literary History 42.4 (2011): 573-91. 19 See Franco Moretti, ed., The Novel, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton UP, 2007); Franco Moretti, “The Slaughterhouse of Literature,” MLQ 61.1 (2000): 207-227. I NGO B ERENSMEYER 8 Such a perspective might enable mobility studies to combine the traditionally dominant emphasis on time or temporality in literary and cultural studies with the more recent modes of conceptualizing patterns of perception and experience in spatial terms, as in transnational and transareal mappings. This understanding of mobility studies will avoid reducing movement to the static spatial image of a map, and take into account the dynamic “vectors” 20 of movement in both space and time. This should ultimately lead to the development of a more “precise terminology of movement, dynamics and mobility.” 21 2. Mobility in Medieval and Early Modern English Texts There is no better way to begin an enquiry into pilgrimage as an individual and communal mode of mobility than Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. But its lasting impact as a cultural model of stylizing the relationship between individuals and their community is perhaps best illustrated by Michael Powell’s and Emeric Pressburger’s A Canterbury Tale (1944). This film, a celebration and questioning of English rural values made while German bombs were falling on British cities, opens with a striking visual commentary on Chaucer’s “General Prologue,” tracing the pilgrims’ route on a medieval-looking map accompanied by a voiceover reading a modernised version of Chaucer’s text, then with actors dressed in medieval garb en route to Canterbury, and culminating in the famous match-cut of a hawk flying in the air which is transformed into an aeroplane: clearly the inspiration for a similar montage to link distinct epochs, bone becoming spaceship, in Stanley Kubrick’s much better known 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). On the road to Canterbury, the medieval pilgrims give way to soldiers in tanks, whose task is to heal the nation’s weakness - in the modern rendition of Chaucer used here, the word “seeke” (sick) is replaced by “weak” - even though it means damaging country roads: the machine in the garden. 22 20 Ette (2005), 19. Here the individual and its irrational quirks, so well known from medieval English literature onwards, are subsumed under the greater good of the community. Indeed, the characters display, as they do in Chaucer, plenty of quirks: Eric Portman plays an English official and gentleman farmer who secretly attacks women by pouring glue on their hair, ostensibly in order to keep the local 21 Ibid., 18. 22 Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Fragment I (Group A), General Prologue, l. 18, The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Larry D. Benson (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1988), 23; Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, A Canterbury Tale, Independent Film Distributor, 1944, Granada Ventures, ITV DVD, 2005. Cf. Leo Marx, The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America, 1964 (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000). From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 9 women away from wartime temptations of associating with servicemen. 23 Overtly, the film tries to connect its story of England under siege with the purported social harmony of Chaucer’s time. Yet underneath this surface, country and city uneasily intrude upon each other in this modern version of pastoral; the film’s nostalgic vision is undercut by darker urban elements. But this unease has been a part of pastoral traditions ever since Greek and Roman antiquity, as the pastoral mode plays off the individual and its (actual or potential) isolation and mobility against the community or the nation. In post-Chaucerian England, the attention shifts more and more to city life and the urban malaise of the mobile individual, using the pastoral mode as a form of critique or as a negative foil to offset the depredations of urban, modern living. Far from being a modern genre, however, the enmeshing of self and city that is a hallmark of urban writing can already be found in the Middle Ages. In the following, I am going to focus on some of these older mobility patterns. They are not part of the same genre; their connection (in my ‘ecological’ sense) as urban writings (texts about city life, usually or at least presumably written in cities) is established, firstly, by the way in which they depict the relationship between individual and community; and secondly, by their manner of exploring the pathologies of human life in search of physical and/ or spiritual healing, in analogy or in contrast to the experiential and spiritual model of pilgrimage. On the level of textual rather than individual mobility, the texts under scrutiny here also give rise to reflections on the transmission and mixing of genres and forms in manuscript and print. In keeping with the film’s overall lightness of tone, the culprit goes unpunished at the end, but one may assume that his embarrassment, like that of Sir Gawain, is penance enough. In A Canterbury Tale the destructive engines of modern mobility - which repeatedly intrude on the quiet countryside are harnessed to the purpose of defending English rural values of gentility, constancy, stability and harmony. * In the prologue to Thomas Hoccleve’s (c. 1367-1426) Regiment of Princes (1410- 11), the writer’s persona gives a harrowing account of his nocturnal walks in the city of London, accompanied by his “troubly dremes, drempt al in wakynge” (l. 109). Hoccleve, who worked as a clerk and scribe in the office of the Privy Seal, was responsible for writing documents and correspondence for the king, his council and others. In his poems, he complains about this secretarial work and the little money he receives for it (“sixe marc eerly and 23 The plot of A Canterbury Tale inspired the 1954 Goon Show episode “The Dreaded Batter Pudding Hurler of Bexhill-On-Sea.” I NGO B ERENSMEYER 10 no more than that” 24 ). On his nocturnal tour of Westminster, the autobiographical persona meets an elderly beggar; this person forces himself on Hoccleve as a random interlocutor, offering advice and relief for Hoccleve’s “maléncolye” (l. 217), his profound depression and suicidal tendencies (cf. ll. 106-112). The beggar recommends a ‘talking cure’: to complain publicly and without shame about one’s “inward” (l. 254) condition, he argues, helps to maintain a clear head. While the beggar reasons about conventional topics such as faith, age, poverty, fashion and the follies of youth, Hoccleve describes his own work and that of other scribes in the office of the Privy Seal, where he has been working for almost 25 years. He also praises Chaucer, writing that he includes Chaucer’s portrait in his text in order to remind readers of him (one of the mss. indeed has a portrait of Chaucer in the margins). Chaucer had also included himself as a character in the Canterbury Tales, and also in his early text The House of Fame, so Hoccleve picks up this convention and develops it further. He is probably the first English poet to use events from his own life as the immediate subject matter of poetry. For Hoccleve, London is the uncertain stage on which he has to eke out, and to act out, his life. His nocturnal mobility is a precondition for his dialogue with the beggar, and for writing the Regiment of Princes; his movement through the city, however, is not part of a communal pilgrimage but the basis for a very personal complaint. The beggar exhorts Hoccleve to write the text of the Regiment, so that the poet at the end unmasks his prologue as a bid for patronage addressed to the Prince of Wales (later king Henry V): Recordyng in my myndë þe lessoun That he me yaf, I hoom to metë wente; And on þe morowe sette I me adoun, And penne and ynke and parchemyn I hente, And to performe his wil and his entente I took corage, and whiles it was hoot, Vn-to my lord the princë thus I wroot: --- (ll. 2010-16) Hoccleve’s writing is strikingly solitary; in contrast to Chaucer and most other medieval writers, who celebrate the group as a community of shared understandings, Hoccleve’s speaker is obsessively preoccupied “by a sense of 24 Thomas Hoccleve, The Regement of Princes, Hoccleve’s Works vol. 3: The Regement of Princes A.D. 1411-12, from the Harleian MS. 4866, and fourteen of Hoccleve’s minor poems from the Egerton MS. 615, ed. Frederick J. Furnivall (London: Early English Text Society, 1897), rpt. in Literature Online (Cambridge: Chadwyck Healy, 1992), l. 974. On the work of Hoccleve, see also Stephan Kohl, “More than Virtues and Vices: Self- Analysis in Hoccleve’s ‘Autobiographies,’“ Fifteenth-Century Studies 14-15 (1988-9): 15- 27; Ethan Knapp, The Bureaucratic Muse: Thomas Hoccleve and the Literature of Medieval England (Pennsylvania: Penn State UP, 2001); Nicholas Perkins, Hoccleve’s Regiment of Princes: Counsel and Constraint (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2001); and Karen Elaine Smyth, Imaginings of Time in Lydgate and Hoccleve’s Verse (London: Ashgate, 2011). From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 11 personal insecurity and isolation,” almost “a precursor of the narrators of Surrey’s poems and Shakespeare’s sonnets.” 25 In a city of some forty to eighty thousand inhabitants, 26 As a man working for the administration, Hoccleve’s position in life was still a relatively privileged one. This is very different in the case of Isabella Whitney (fl. 1566-1573), the first English woman poet to appear in print in the sixteenth century. Whitney establishes a female perspective on the commercial world of London’s streets and markets, sketching - in her A Sweet Nosgay (1573) - a vision of the city as an assemblage of sites which enable and constrain individual and social mobility. Whereas, for Hoccleve, the street was a meeting place and a stage for the negotiation of individual and communal values, Whitney’s last will and testament to London presents the city’s streets as spaces for commerce and display, for spectacles staged by the powerful and the lowly. As spaces controlled by law, these late 16th-century streets also embody gender-specific limitations on the right to circulate freely within them, thus participating in the differentiation of gendered subjectivities through their exclusion of certain types of bodies and their movements. Thus different types of ‘actors’ (in Bruno Latour’s sense, i.e. including material and textual objects/ media as well as animals and humans) and different forms of agency form mobile and transitory networks and alliances. Another major difference is her text’s circulation in print, rather than manuscript - a form of textual mobility that inaugurates new forms of address and a new literary culture. Hoccleve experiences and depicts perhaps for the first time intense urban loneliness and/ as (aimless) individual movement. Like a late medieval Bartleby, Hoccleve suffers from the physical and mental pains of the dull labour of copying documents. His London is centred on Westminster, where he worked, not ranging farther than the Strand, where he lived. Yet he never describes London as such; it is merely the setting to his personal conflicts - urban, distracting and vaguely threatening. In a different context, Sören Hammerschmidt and I have examined the spaces Whitney constructs in her Sweet Nosgay, the ways in which her textual persona reflects on and relates herself to concepts and spaces of ‘home’ and its exteriors, navigating London’s spheres of cultural and social production and positioning herself in these spaces as a speaker and a subject. 27 25 Roger Ellis, “Introduction,” ‘My Compleinte’ and Other Poems by Thomas Hoccleve, ed. Roger Ellis (Exeter: U of Exeter P, 2001), 1-50, 41. As the 26 Figure given for the late 14th century in C. David Benson, “Some Poets’ Tours of Medieval London: Varieties of Literary Urban Experience,” Essays in Medieval Studies 24 (2007): 1-20, 1. 27 See Sören Hammerschmidt and Ingo Berensmeyer, ”Streetwalkers, Homemakers, and the Female Poet: Negotiating Urban Spaces in Isabella Whitney’s A Sweet Nosgay,” forthcoming in ELR. I NGO B ERENSMEYER 12 public spaces of London are a source of infection for body and mind, this increased mobility of the self is at once a courageous act of defiance (and hence a source of strength) and a health risk. It is a pharmakon: medicine as well as poison. This ambivalence is replicated by the book itself: Whitney advertises her collection of “vertuous Flowers” as protection “[i]n stynking streetes, or lothsome Lanes / which els might mee infect.” 28 In this, the Nosgay seems to fit squarely into the genre of the advice book or conduct manual. But it is also a kind of travel narrative, which takes pleasure in the literary display of urban topographies recollected from memory. Even though she occasionally warns against aimless, uncontrolled wandering, she seems to suggest that the well-advised traveller, male or female, is empowered with moral protection against the infections of London. This, in fact, is her main recommendation for the Nosgay, her book, as a vademecum that will protect the reader: a mobile book for mobile (and sometimes involuntarily mobilised) readers. 29 In her nonlinear and non-narrative record of London, Isabella Whitney provides a topography of spectacle and movement combined with one of associative memory relating to consumer culture and the economic urban space. Whitney’s imaginative and physical movements through London set up the streets of the city as legitimate spaces of female activity in contrast to a “home” to which she never returns throughout the text. Her physical and economic mobility contrasts sharply with traditional assumptions about the degrees of freedom available to women in the early modern period. More importantly in this context, this mobility correlates to the portability and marketability of the printed book of poems as opposed to the manuscript volume circulated among ‘private friends,’ supposedly the standard model of lyric communication in the period, at least for aristocratic poets. 30 28 Isabella Whitney, A Sweet Nosgay, facsimile ed. In “The Floures of Philosophie” (1572), by Hugh Plat; and “A Sweet Nosgay” (1573) and “The Copy of a Letter” (1567), by Isabella Whitney, intro. Richard J. Panofski (facsim. ed. Delmar, NY: Scholars’ Facsimiles & Reprints, 1982), A4 v , A6 v . The Nosgay questions assumptions about the genre of lyric especially as practised by 29 See Hammerschmidt and Berensmeyer for further details; also cf. Patricia Phillippy, “The Maid’s Lawful Liberty: Service, the Household, and ‘Mother B’ in Isabella Whitney’s ‘A Sweet Nosegay.’” Modern Philology 95, no. 4 (May 1998): 439-62; “Apostrophes to Cities: Urban Rhetoric in Isabella Whitney and Moderata Fonte,” Attending to Early Modern Women, ed. Susan D. Amussen and Adele Seeff (Newark, DE: U of Delaware P, 1998), 155-75, and “Maidservants of London: Sisterhoods of Kinship and Labor,” Maids and Mistresses, Cousins and Queens: Women’s Alliances in Early Modern England, ed. Susan Frye and Karen Robertson (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1999), 21-32; Laura Gowing, “‘The Freedom of the Streets’: Women and Social Space, 1560-1640,” Londinopolis: Essays in the Cultural and Social History of Early Modern London, ed. Paul Griffiths and Mark S.R. Jenner (Manchester: Manchester UP, 2000), 130-51. 30 See Arthur F. Marotti, John Donne: Coterie Poet (Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986; Marotti, Manuscript, Print, and the English Renaissance Lyric (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1995). From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 13 women; it does so by including lyric poems in a more general frame, marked by an urban movement that (for women) is tantamount to transgression. The urban text, which employs mobility as its key model of storytelling, or as an entelechy of narrative form, thus also enacts mobility in its physical form when the Nosgay becomes a material book and a part of early modern print culture. This observation leads over to the problems of textual and generic mobility, involving continuity as well as discontinuity, in the early modern period. Whitney’s genre, the verse miscellany, is a highly innovative and mobile form, one which successfully manages the transition from manuscript to print. As a ‘mixed bag,’ the printed verse miscellany allows writers a more free-ranging communication with an increasingly heterogeneous audience. In the same year as A Sweet Nosgay, 1573, George Gascoigne’s A Hundreth Sundry Flowers appears in print, gathering his two plays (the comedy Supposes and the tragedy Jocasta) with numerous poems and the early prose narrative “A Discourse of the Adventures passed by Master F.J.,” a narrative that includes a number of poems and in which the codes of courtly love - established, first and foremost, in poetry - are given a reality check, not least by the juxtaposition of lyric and narrative. Combining prose and poetry of various kinds, the early modern miscellany commercialises literature for a wider audience, offering advice and entertainment: “for the use of all sorts of persons from the Noblemans Palace to the Artizans Shop,” as the title-page of The Marrow of Complements informs potential buyers. 31 31 Philomusus, The Marrow of Complements. Or, A most Methodicall and accurate forme of Instructions for all Variety of Love-Letters, Amorous Discourses, and Complementall Entertainments. Fitted for the use of all sorts of persons from the Noblemans Palace to the Artizans Shop. With many delightfull Songs, Sonnetts, Odes, Dialogues, &c. Never before published. London 1654. Similar early modern titles in print include The Forrest of Fancy (1579), Nicholas Breton’s Brittons Bowre of Delights (1591) and The Arbor of amorous Deuises (1597); The Spared Hovres of a Sovldier in his Travels, by John Wodroephe (1623), Samuel Pick’s Festum Voluptatis, or The Banquet of Pleasure (1639), Love’s Dialect by Thomas Jordan (1646), The Card of Courtship (1653), John Cotgrave’s Wits Interpreter, the English Parnassus (1655), The Academy of Pleasure (1656), Pearls of Eloquence: or, the School of Complements by William Elder (1656), Dudley North’s A Forest Promiscuous of Several Seasons Productions (1659), Merry Drollery (1661), The Art of Courtship (1662), Wits Academy: or, The Muses Delight (1696). In selecting and arranging material of various kinds and sources into a ‘posy’ (or ‘poesie’) or ‘nosegay,’ the miscellany creates an aesthetic unity from diversity; miscellany titles abound with floral and gardening motifs that signal natural beauty (rather than the commercial interests of printers and authors): nosegay, posies, bower, arbour, academy, forest. The transitional movement from verse miscellany manuscripts, which remained popular through the seventeenth I NGO B ERENSMEYER 14 century, to printed anthologies in the wake of Richard Tottel’s Songes and Sonettes (1557) remains underexplored. 32 But Whitney and Gascoigne are far from alone in their focus on subjective and rather disheartened models of mobility in urban settings. As the Middle Ages give way to a more recognizably modern cultural environment, Chaucer’s model of the pilgrimage as a socially unifying event is gradually replaced by at once more subjective, more secular and less optimistic models. Hoccleve again, at the beginning of My Compleinte, written in about 1420, deliberately revises and parodies the opening of Chaucer’s General Prologue. Here, spring has given way to autumn, and rather than anticipate healing at the end of a communal pilgrimage, the narrator emphasises his isolation and the approach of death as “everybody’s conclusion”: After þat heruest inned had hise sheues, And that the broun sesoun of Mihelmesse Was come, and gan the trees robbe of her leues, That grene had ben and in lusty freisshenesse, And hem into colour of elownesse Had died and doun throwen vndirfoote, That chaunge sanke into myne herte roote. For freisshly brou te it to my remembraunce That stablenesse in this worlde is ther noon. There is noþing but chaunge and variaunce. Howe welthi a man be or wel begoon, Endure it shal not. He shal it forgoon. Deeth vndirfoote shal him þriste adoun. That is euery wi tes conclusioun. (ll. 1-14) 33 In this anti-pastoral poem, the “broun sesoun” kills the green and replaces “lusty freisshenesse” with “Deeth,” the universal conqueror who thrusts everything and everybody “vndirfoote.” The vanitas motif - “Noþing but chaunge and variaunce” - anticipates the “continual change” later lamented by Thomas Wyatt in his poem “They flee from me,” as well as Edmund Spenser’s “euer-whirling wheele / Of Change” in the Mutabilitie Cantos (VI.1.1-2). 34 32 Cf. Mary Hobbs, Early Seventeenth-Century Verse Miscellany Manuscripts, Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1992; Adam Smyth, “Profit & Delight”: Printed Miscellanies in England, 1640- 1682 (Detroit: Wayne State UP, 2004). From there, a few short steps can take us to the disaffected speaker of Shakespeare’s sonnets, who focuses on the “inconstant mind” of 33 Thomas Hoccleve, ‘My Compleinte’ and Other Poems, ed. Roger Ellis (Exeter: U of Exeter P, 2001), 115. 34 Thomas Wyatt, “[Poem] 6 [They fle from me]” (1557), Chaucer to Spenser: An Anthology, ed. Derek Pearsall (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), 610-11; Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene (1590-96), ed. A.C. Hamilton (London: Longman, 1977), 714. From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 15 his lover. 35 Now, the malaise described in the sonnets is not explicitly urban, but its implied social context is the world of court and city, where the self is under permanent scrutiny by others: “the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed / Not by our feeling but by others’ seeing.” 36 Also, like Hoccleve, the speaker of the sonnets at times admits to suicidal tendencies: “Tired with all these for restful death I cry.” 37 In contrast to Whitney, his is a more subjective model of lyric poetry - begging for private release rather than public acknowledgment and public consumption. While mobility for Whitney is neither intrinsically good nor bad, but a condition of life that harbours risks as well as opportunities, for the speaker of Shakespeare’s sonnets it is personal immobility that is a sign of power (especially “the power to hurt” 38 others): being “unmoved” 39 is the enabling condition of those who can move others: They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow: They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces, And husband nature’s riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others, but stewards of their excellence. 40 Here mobility is a social weakness: the mobile individual is subject to life’s uncertainties, and there is nothing left for him but to be moved by those who wield power, those who “are themselves as stone,” immobile and permanent. As Thomas Hobbes will later argue, “Life it selfe is but motion,” 41 The flower imagery that follows this proto-sociological analysis returns to the imagery of infection also employed by Whitney: “Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds” (l. 14). On one level, the speaker seems to argue in favour of the robustness of uncultivated, unpolluted ‘nature’ (the sturdy “weeds”) compared to the etiolated, over-refined but potentially morally corrupt lily - thereby investing in the semiotisation of rural England as inherently pure and virtuous as opposed to the corruption of city life. Metaphors of sickness abound in Shakespeare’s sonnets, as they do in Hoccleve and the task of the sovereign is to remain unmoved in order to ensure the stability and security of the commonwealth. 35 William Shakespeare, sonnet 92, l. 9. Shakespeare’s Sonnets (1609), ed. Katherine Duncan- Jones (London: The Arden Shakespeare, 1997), 295. 36 Sonnet 121, ll. 3-4, Shakespeare’s Sonnets 353. 37 Sonnet 66, l. 1, Shakespeare’s Sonnets 243. 38 Sonnet 94, l. 1, Shakespeare’s Sonnets 299. 39 Ibid., l. 4. 40 Ibid., ll. 1-8. 41 Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. Richard Tuck (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996), 46 (from chapter 6). I NGO B ERENSMEYER 16 and Whitney: “My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease,” 42 but there is no longer any anticipation of a spiritual cure, of remedy or redemption. No “hooly blisful martir” 43 is expected to intercede, as in Chaucer; instead, the bath of mercury, “healthful remedy / For men diseased” 44 For the mobile (here also including the promiscuous) individual, is there a way out of this malaise? The development, during the gradual transition from manuscript to print culture, appears to be one from pilgrimage to complaint, from social network to social isolation. But there is also a counterdevelopment, simultaneous with the poetry of Whitney and Shakespeare: the rise of picaresque narrative. In the picaresque, the mobile individual asserts itself as a quasi-heroic figure. His stage is no longer the city but the world at large, the open horizon of the modern concept of reality. is a purely physical, not a metaphysical ‘solution’ to the lovesickness (i.e. venereal disease) of Shakespeare’s lonely pilgrim. 45 His literary ancestor in England (unacknowledged, slumbering in the archive until its discovery in the nineteenth century) is Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Here heroic suffering is replaced by embarrassment, 46 complaint is inflected towards “merry discourse.” 47 The pícaro embodies the potential of individual mobility for personal transformation and the ‘pursuit of happiness’ in a capitalist economy. For example, when Meum and Tuum, the eponymous heroes of Henry Peacham Jr.’s Merry Discourse of Meum and Tuum (1639), come to London, they are resolved to ‘put money in their purse,’ as Iago advises Roderigo. 48 Now by the way, if they should happen to want money, Meum resolved to take upon him the name and profession of a Physitian, and to cure all manner of diseases and griefes by stroking the part pained, and uttering some few words, by way of charme [...] Tuum would, like a Gypsey, be a teller of Fortunes, especially to Solid materialists as they are, they no longer hope for a general cure against the ills of modernity, so they dress up as doctors to profit from other people’s diseases and their gullibility: 42 Sonnet 147, ll. 1-2, Shakespeare’s Sonnets 411. 43 Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, General Prologue, l. 17, The Riverside Chaucer 23. 44 Sonnet 154, ll. 11-12, Shakespeare’s Sonnets 427. 45 See Hans Blumenberg, “The Concept of Reality and the Possibility of the Novel,” New Perspectives in German Literary Criticism, ed. Richard E. Amacher and Victor Lange (Princeton: Princeton UP 1979), 29-48. 46 See Derek Pearsall, “Courtesy and Chivalry in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: the Order of Shame and the Invention of Embarrassment,” A Companion to the Gawain-Poet, ed. Derek Brewer and Jonathan Gibson (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 1997), 351-362. 47 Henry Peacham Jr., A Merry Discourse of MEUM, And TUUM, or, MINE and THINE, Tvvo crosse Brothers, that make Strife and Debate wheresoever they come; With their Descent, Parentage, and late Progresse in divers parts of ENGLAND (London, 1639). 48 Shakespeare, Othello, 1.3. 333-37. The Norton Shakespeare, ed. Stephen Greenblatt (New York: Norton, 1997), 2114. From Pilgrimage to Picaresque 17 widdowes and young wenches; and indeed they got hereby much money, and grew famous. 49 The pícaro learns to make a virtue of necessity and to turn his condition of individual and social mobility into a benefit, even if this is bought at the price of deceit and self-deception. 50 From the goal-oriented mobility of pilgrimage that provides a strengthening of the self through movement, and implies a return to one’s origins, the pícaro embarks on an exploration of the advantages of vagrancy, of waywardness: his road leads into a radically open, unforeseeable future, into a modernity based on taking (calculated) risks. 51 Likewise, the picaresque mode has proven highly mobile and adaptable to many different contexts, from the early novel to the road movies of our time. 52 In order to navigate these literary spaces, and to connect them to earlier modes of experiencing mobility, I have suggested a model based on cultural ecology. This model (which, as yet, is highly tentative and not fully fleshed out) might help to trace associations between the many different dimensions of mobility, personal, phenomenal, objective and textual, without reducing them to a single aspect or erasing their differences in an overarching theoretical framework, as all too often happens, for example, in discussions of ‘social mobility.’ Mobility itself is a travelling concept, difficult - perhaps impossible - to encompass in a single disciplinary structure or style of thought. This is why it is necessary to abstain from reductionist explanations and to pay attention to the many levels of mobility, separately and in their interaction, to follow their connections and ‘to go with the flow.’ 49 Peacham, A Merry Discourse 22-23. I wish to thank Angela Locatelli for drawing my attention to this text. 50 See Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht, “Die prekäre Existenz des Pícaro,” Stimmungen lesen: Über eine verdeckte Wirklichkeit der Literatur (Munich: Hanser, 2011), 44-55, 52-53. 51 Cf. Ulrich Beck, Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity (London: Sage, 1992); Niklas Luhmann, Risk: A Sociological Theory (New Brunswick: Transaction, 2002). 52 See, for instance, Christoph Ehland and Robert Fajen, eds., Das Paradigma des Pikaresken / The Paradigm of the Picaresque (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2007). I NGO B ERENSMEYER 18 Works Cited Primary Works Anon. The Forrest of Fancy, Wherein is conteined very prety Apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, Songes, Sonets, Epigrams and Epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. VVith sundry other deuises, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable. London, 1579. ---. The Card of Courtship, or the Language of Love; Fitted to the Humours of all Degrees, Sexes, and Conditions. Made up of all sorts of Curious and ingenious Dialogues, Pithy and pleasant Discourses, Eloquent and winning Letters, Delicious Songs and Sonnets, Fine Fancies, Harmonious Odes, Sweet Rhapsodies. London, 1653. ---. The Academy of Pleasure. Furnished with all kinds of Complementall Letters, Discourses, and Dialogues; with variety of new Songs, Sonetsm and witty Inventions. Teaching all sorts of Men, Maids, Widows, &c. to Speak and Write wittily, and to bear themselves gracefully for the attaining of their desired ends: how to discourse and demean themselves at Feasts and merry-Meetings at home and abroad, in the company of friends or strangers. How to Retort, Quibble, Jest or Joke, and to return an ingenious Answer upon any occision whatsoever. Also, a Dictionary of all the hard English words expounded. With a Poeticall Dictionary. With other Conceits very pleasant and delightfull, never before extant. London, 1656. ---. Merry Drollery, or Collection Of Jovial Poems, Merry Songs, Witty Drolleries. Intermix’d with Pleasant Catches. The First Part. Collected by W.N. C.B. R.S. F.G. Lovers of Wit. London, 1661. ---. The Art of Courtship by which Young Ladies, Gentlemen and Forreigners may be fitted with all Variety of Elegant Epistles, witty Dialogues, Eloquent expressions, Complemental Ceremonies, Amorous Answers, and lofty Language, suitable to every occasion. Also The meaner sort bee instructed how to deport or bear themselves at all times, and in all places, either to Entertaine or Associate, and how to expresse themselves fluently, to write quaintly, and likewise ingeniously. Whereunto are annexed, Many new and pleasant Odes, Epigrams, Songs, Sonnets, Posies, Presentations, Congratulations, Ejaculations, and Rhapsodies. With various and delightfull Fancies. London, 1662. ---. 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