D

 

AN APOLOGY TO THE READER

Mea culpa. Mea magna culpa!

I am now within sneezing distance of the commencement of my 47th year.

For an horrific portion of those years I was in the grip of the dual addictions (a word I use with great odium, inasmuch as I find the whole notion of ‘addiction’ as noxious and as deleterious as such other quasi-notions as ‘witchcraft’, ‘possession’. ‘insanity’ and so on and so forth; we still live in the ideological dark ages, to slightly remould the formulations of William Burroughs and Kurt Vonnegut - both of whom have been there themselves).

Since 1973 - the year in which I entered higher education - so much has changed.
Changes in academic disciplines, such as the rise and decline of Structuralism, and its appications to the humanities and the social sciences are relatively - for myself - easy to keep pace with. After all, the major medium of dissemination in the academic world remains the book and the specialist journal.
Within the past decade - a decade during which I have largely been dependent upon incapacity benefit as a recovering addict/alcoholic - I have found myself financially left behind, and thus deprived of access of new forms of composition and dissemination.
I refer, of course, to those forms of dissemination subsumed under the somewhat misleading term of ‘the new technology’. In other words, the world of the word processor, the computer, the world wide web, etc..

I come from an era in which handwriting (the bane of my youth due to a tremor) and typewriting were the norm for textual communication.
The acquisition of a computer (thanks to the munificence of two good friends, messrs Kadwell and Plumtree) allowed me access to a new means of composition. ...The notebook and the diary are still essentials for spur of the moment writings. (The laptop keyboard remains beyond my budget.)

This is the first prolonged text which I have produced entirely and solely using the computer keyboard - the word processor - as its first and final mode of presentation. Previously I have experimented with this device, using it form short letters of a bureaucratic nature within which the odd gaffe counted for nothing in my estimation: part of a dialectic of shoddy disrespect which characterizes British bureaucracy A.D. 2002.
More positively, I have experimented with this mode of communication in the composition of relatively brief texts, Texts which were eventually printed and bound.
With the encouragement and patient support and friendship of Dr Chris Mullen, I have been persuaded to attempt to put aside my portable Olivetti, marker pens, scissors, staples and sellotape (not to mention Tipp-ex, which inevitably turned to powder partway down the small bottle). In place whereof there are now a keyboard, computer, printer, and, more and more floppy discs, which take up far less room than multiple copies of carbon copies, xeroxes, etc..

*

It may seem the most bizarre medium in which to write an introductory text on the history of antiquarianism in Britain, 1550-1830. Especially as I write (as indeed most who have contributed to this area of cultural history) from the viewpoint of a collector and bibliophile. The notion of scanning in my small, hard-won collection of antiquarian books, traducing them onto cd-roms fills me with giddy horror. The bibliophile - as Walter Benjamin poetically expressed it in his essay ‘On Unpacking my Books’ regards his collection as something peculiarly personal. Something akin to an extension of the self, even of the ego; an outlook which he shared with with the otherwise so different polymath Jacques Lacan.

However, for many of the early antiquaries, the most valued items in their working collections were archaeological items, the buildings in which they lived, the traces in the landscape which formed part of or adjoined their demesnes. The manuscripts, whether complete or fragmentary, rescued from the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII, were regarded by the richer collectors (e.g. Sir Robert Cotton) as being incomparably more important than even the most lavish of printed books (with notable exceptions, if the boks contained woodcuts or engravings of a superior quality executed by those regarded by artists in their own right).

For such antiquaries, those who had landed fortunes, or court positions to fall back upon, the printed volume was often an inferior product. And those who wrote them did so for two reasons: either to maintain their finances; or, as a form of court etiquette via the protocol of dedication. For dedication was a form of guaranteeing court support and protection, in other words, the granting of funds from the royal coffers, or, in exceptional circumstances, political and court influence.
A few notable individuals fell through the net, of course, and, despite their painstaking work, remained beyond the pale of regal munificence or of ecclesiastical preferment. Representatives of such overlooked deserving writers and scholars included figures such as Anthony Wood, John Aubrey (whose works were evidently plundered by all and sundry, as he passed around his mss in the hope of securing fiscal stability), the antiquary and bibliographer-biographer Thomas Hearne (excluded as a non-juror, i.e. his Roman Catholic sympathies).

*

What, may one ask, is the immediate relevance for such a study as this in the year 2002?
First of all, the growing awareness of the fragility of heritage per se in its widest sense. ‘Heritage’, I have to admit on a personal level, is a word and notion (I doubt it is a concept per se). It is to be hoped that (in the wake of global recession) the wholesale plundering and export of items of national heritage, the gutting of buildings (and often their dismantling, to be erected elsewhere) has entered a period of at least temporary decline. Moreover, in the wake of the collapse of the dot-com boom, and the fallout of September 11 2001, the plundering of British heritage (the robbing of British character) has at least entered a period of slowdown.
Moreover, perhaps there are the shoots of a new re-discovery of Britain: not only by foreign visitors. But, of far more potential importance, by the British themselves, in the wake of the ravages of foot and mouth and B.S.E..
The countryside - its heritage of landscape, natural phenomena, shapes, land-use, and so on and so forth - can, hopefully, no longer be taken for granted. Yet, at the same time, the very FRAGILITY of landscape and heritage, has become implanted into the national consciousness (almost DESPITE the inherent cultural ignorance of Blairism).

This is not a roll-call for nationalist Conservatism, for a reinforcement of elitism. Quite the reverse, in fact. Rather, in this respect, there is a parallel to be drawn betwen the early antiquaries - those responsible for the discovery of Britain during the Tudor and Stuart period and the present-day supporters of heritage. Heritage as a form of custodianship, and not as an ‘industry’.

In recent decades figures such as James Lees-Milne, John Betjeman, John Piper, Sir Nikolaus Pevsner and the members of the Penguin Buildings of England series and the Victoria County History project have, in different ways, drawn upon the achievements of the earlier antiquaries - even though they worked and continue to work within a distinctly different epistemological network: one of specialist methodologies and technologies. Such divisions would have been by and large quite alien to the early antiquaries, who adopted a far more far-reaching, almost ‘magpie-outlook’.
It was, I propose, such a ‘magpie-outlook’ which accounted for the growth of the antiquarian movement c.1550-1840.

As will be reiterated during the course of this study - from different angles, in diferent contexts - the lack of scientific or academic ‘discipline’ greatly assisted the dynamism of the antiquarian movement per se. Even though travel was expensive, difficult if not downright perilous for much of this period, against the odds a close-knit cameraderie developed. This, so it seems at this present stage of research, was more prevalent in those members of the middle and mercantile classes for whom the continental tour was either financially out of the question, or impossible because of the pressures of estate management, which kept them in England. Moreover, during the early decades of the seventeenth century, the Thirty Years’ War which ravaged Europe acted as a deterrent to English travellers. Moreover, this period of continental unrest roughly coincided with the period of the English Civil War.
- This is, I think, a knotty problem of the economics of demography (which remains for myself a terra incognita). It is, moreover, a problem which is not fully emphasized by A.L. Rowse in his argument concerning ‘the Elizabethan discovery of England’. For, put bluntly, Rowse indicates the ‘discovery’, but does not fully account for all the factors involved.

*

However, it is time to terminate these preliminary leaves, and to engage with the text proper, for better or for worse.

C O N T E N T S.

 

PAGE

Introductory Synopsis ...................................... 7.

Five Representative Books as Case-Histories .................... 9.

A Note on the Presentation of the Text .........20.

ANTIQUARIAN & COUNTY HISTORIES.
RANDOM NOTES ON SPECIFIC TEXTS, No.1:
WILLIAM LAMBARDE. A PERAMBULATION OF KENT, 1576. ......20.

RELIGION AND THE IDEOLOGICAL FUNCTION OF
THE ANTIQUARY. ..................................................32.

 

 

 

INTRODUCTORY SYNOPSIS

The purpose of the following text is to offer a tentative, preliminary introduction to the history of antiquarian and topographical writings and books covering Britain during the period 1550-1835.

These dates are chosen as convenient, makeshift chronological markers, indicating the (temporary/permanent?) historical bounds of this study at the present point in my research (July 2001).

The dates have been ‘rounded off’ provisionally, so to speak. To elucidate: The text of John Leland’s Itinerary in its bound manuscript form was presented to King Henry VIII in 1546 as a New Year’s Gift to the monarch, upon whom he was dependent indirectly for his financial support, as well as for the warrants allowing him to travel freely across the domains of the King (i.e. England and Wales).

As a New Year’s Gift (the courtly equivalent, at that time, of what would now be termed a Christmas present) it constituted a testament of fidelity to the King; gratitude for the issuing of his warrants and for whatever financial assistance he received from the royal coffers. An act of seasonal etiquette in a textual form. - However, having stated the last remark, it is alas no longer possible to ascertain precisely how the fascicules of the manuscript were stitched; nor how elaborate was the original binding. Although many fine bindings of the medieval and early Tudor period are still to be found intact and in a state of good preservation (even accounting for subsequent repairs and refurbishments to binding, stitching and gatherings), this has not been the case with Leland’s text.
There are (I think at this stage of my research) two reasons for this, briefly stated as follows:

1. Leland did not present a systematic account of the King’s domains. There were several models which he could have well adopted and adapted for his own purposes. For instance, he could have divided his text into an organizational structure of shires. Another alternative would have been a division by dioceses. This would have been especially appropriate, as the text was written and completed during and in the aftermath of the break from Rome and the Dissolution of the Monasteries - arguably the two most far-reaching occurrences of Henry VIII’s reign, politically, religiously and culturally. Moreover, an added dimension or overlay of aptness in this respect is evident time and again in Leland’s text, in the form of his frequently reiterated attacks against the malpractices, idolatry and superstitions and allegiance to the Pope over and above the King, which liberally pepper Leland’s text. So many diatribal, anti-Papal digressions!

2. Leland had no established pattern from classical learning on which to base the structuration and organization of his method or the presentation of his findings. He had to gropingly find a new albeit tentative way of organizing his material. And to all intents and purposes it can be said that he never adequately did so.

- And to the foregoing, there may be added a third consideration, related to the above:

3. Neither Lucy Toulmin Smith nor T.D. Kendrick, in their introductory essays to the 1964 edition of the Itinerary (the second publication of this work; the first being that of Thomas Hearne in the early 18th century; and still the most recent transcription of Leland) decisively solve the problem of the status of Leland’s ms ( and the subsequent copies). Namely: Did Leland himself regard the text as being in a state of completion? Or was it regarded by him as a work in progress? A preliminary draft presented in the hope of securing further royal largesse and finance so that the ms could be refined with a view - possibly - to being printed?

A manuscript (or in the case of Leland’s Itinarary a series of incomplete mss, the collation and comparison and analysis of which allow one to conjecture a relatively fluid yet still difficult, digressive, broken text of tesserae) is fundamentally different in material status from a printed text.
A different form of dissemination - and of reading - separates the manuscript from the printed text.
This undoubtedly gives rise to a highly complex nexus of theoretical issues regarding the relationship of the acts of writing to those of reading. Of the fundamental differential specificities separating manuscript from print.
This thorny domain will not be entered at the moment.
Rather, some of the issues arising therefrom will become apparent in the course of the following text. For there are, I think, digressions enough as it is below. Therefore, I intentionally leave this - and other knotty issues - in a state of intentional suspension or deferral; to be tackled, perhaps in a closing synopsis - or perhaps excluded from the corpus of the study for reasons of compositional concision.

*

The above remarks are intended as a tentative caveat: primarily aimed at myself; and apologetically addressed to the readers of this work in progress.
In the following, you are reading over my shoulder, so to speak, as I write, erase and rewrite. Above all, the pages following are fundamentally, essentially PROVISIONAL. Intentionally INCONCLUSIVE.

 

Five key books representing original work of antiquaries.

1. William Lambarde, A Perambulation of Kent, 1576.
1(b) ibid..............................................................1596.
- The first published county history. What would a close reading or comparative deconstruction of the two texts (colllation, etc.) yield about the nature of whether or not new material had been added? I have no prior judgements as yet; so far having only read the 1576 edition. I possess working copies of both.
2. Carew’s Survey of Cornwall, 1605. I have only a modern reprint.
Yet here divisions into hundreds present a different mode of organization.
Also the arrangement of maps is different from Lambarde. The former has only one large folding map of the county (missing in both my copies, as it is worth morethan the text.) The latter contains individual maps of each hundred. - Comparison of the different social status of each writer.
3. Philipot, Villare Cantianum. 1656.
A vexatious text inasmuch as it is arranged via lathe and parish following the course - evidently - of Philipot’s seasonal peregrinations into diferent parts of the county. Because of the general state of the roads in England, antiquaries tended to travel only in spring and summer. A comparison with Kent as described by Lambarde with this, a century later.
4. Robert Plot, Oxfordshire, 1676. Here engravings are integral to the author’s argument. Different, therefore, in format from the preceding examples.
5. William Borlase, The Antiquities of Cornwall, 1756. Followed by the Natural History of 1765. Borlase was not subject to the contemporary ridicule of Plot (who was somewhat credulous). In fact, Borlase, although living in seclusion and elative poverty/modesty as a vicar in a remote west Cornish parish, was hailed by no less a figure than Dr Johnson for the scholarship and literary style of his work.
6. Horsfield, The Antiquities [...] of Sussex, 1835. In many ways, the last of the county histories undertaken in the antiquarian fashion.
- Did the advent of the railway and the alterations wrought on Victorian society by the industrial and agrarian revolution make the antiquary’s task somehow redundant? It is to be remembered that the members of the Pickwick club, touring England in search of the curious, were essentially lampooned by Dickens. And Pickwick and Horsfield are roughly contemporaneous.
7. England as a whole. William Camden, Britannia. First published in Latin in 1586. Subsequently translated by Philemon Holland, appearing 1635.
Then completely redone by Edmund Gibson, 1695, and again updated in 1722. By which time it had been augmented by Gibson and a whole team of correspondents and contributors to two hefty folios.
- N.B. these processes of increasing augmentation.

Commentaries on antiquarianism.

These are in the main scattered through a whole variety of journals from the Victorian period onwards. Often each county zealously guarded its own historiography.
The first general introduction is T.D. Kendrick, British Antiquity, 1950.
Followed by a selection of essays by Stuart Piggott, Ruins in a Landscape, 1973.
The best of recent work by far is Graham Parry’s The Trophies of Time, which is as the author himself admits, intentionally selective, indicating how epistemology, theology and politics determined several key antiquarian texts in the 17th century.

Biographies of particular antiquaries are thin on the ground; and, produced in small print runs by university presses, inevitably expensive. And, moreover, difficult to obtain as they go out of print so rapidly. Yet they are being produced sporadically at the moment. Subscription to mailing-lists or to on-line specialists seems to be the most efficient way of being informed of such publications.
The historians of antiquarianism - like the original antiquaries and county historians themselves - are today as close-knit and exclusive as were their predecessors. Perhaps because they are not studied on university courses?

However, at long last this situation shows signs of changing; for now, in a small number of university history departments throughout the country, postgraduate units and courses are evidently focusing upon this aspect of historiography, most often under the aegis of specific, scattered scholars who have an active interest in this field; among whom one may cite Kevin Sharpe, Stephen Bann and Graham Parry as being eminent in their fields of Tudor and 17th century studies. Also, Professor Charles Thomas continues on a part-time basis at the University of Exeter and at the Institute of Cornish Studies to combine the domains of the historiography of local history, archival research and archaeology and the history thereof, in specific relation to the counties of Cornwall and Devon. (In this respect, he has an illustrious predecessor in the figure of Professor W.G. Hoskins who, with the publication of The Making of the English Landscape and Local History in England, both originally published in the 1950s indicated that social history per se could and should be approached in a far more specific, well-documented manner than had previously been laid out in the pages of G.M. Trevelyan’s English Social History. (Trevelyan’s work, although later historians such as Sir Keith Thomas, in the Preface to Man and the Natural World in particular, have duly paid homage, now seems as outmoded as the historiography of Gibbon.)

*
Today, 2001, the status of the history of antiquarian thought, bears many resemblances to the status of Structuralism and Deconstruction (or New Criticism) in the early 1970s. To elucidate:
It exists as a domain of historical and critical inquiry and is academically recognized as such in a number of university departments. However, as with Structuralism and Deconstruction (a term I use with severe misgivings, inasmuch as the supposed ‘erstwhile founder’ of Deconstruction, Jacques Derrida, has for several decades insisted that it was never his intention to impose a rigidity of methodology, nor to establish a canon of texts in the manner of Frye and Bloom in the U.S.A.. Moreover, he insists that the term was not coined by himself, but has rather been an epithet he has been encumbered with since the publication of De la Grammatologie and L’ecriture et la differance. And if one considers the diffuse nature of the entire output of Derrida, one can appreciate his own exasperation at being labelled so reductively. For, the underlying thread of Derrida’s various works is decidedly anti-reductionist. He prefers to situate himself upon the margins of specific, established disciplines; and, indeed, regards his own writings, however brief or long they may be as being essentially marginalia to the topics under discussion.)

To apply the above observations concerning Derrida to the topic of antiquarian thought.
Some of those researching in this domain find themselves in Departmens of History; others in Departments of History; others in Departments of Cultural Studies.
So far there has not been established in any British institution a Chair - let alone a Department - of Antiquarian Studies or of Antiquarian Historiography.
Perhaps that in itself is a good thing. A dynamic opportunity for interdisciplinary work in progress (which dried up during the repression of Thatcherism’s malign influence on higher education). As Paul Feyerabend cogently, passionately (and at times humorously) argued in Against Method, to compartmentalize knowledge along departmental lines (more often than not imposed from without, be it Church, State or Department of Education... in all cases by those with little or no undersanding of research methods) can only lead to stagnation, or at best thematic variation and repetition.

The early antiquaries and county historians seldom worked within university environments. The closest any of them had to what might be termed an academic tenure was Sir William Dugdale, who as Norroy King of Arms was the undisputed head of the Royal College of Arms. In this position he was not only the supreme adjudicator in questions of heraldry. He was also the principle legislator in questions of the utmost importance in the economics of 17th century England: namely financial inheritance and land-ownership, having privileged access to the Record Office, at that time housed in the Tower of London.

As for a specific environment or establishment of antiquarian research, this still remains a vexed, uncertain issue.
The crux of the argument involvs the question of whether or not there was a constituted Society of Antiquaries in the late 16th and early 17th centuries.
Joan Evans, in her ‘official’ history of the Society of Antiquaries, published in 1956 (and still evidently regarded by the Society as its canonical history) presents a confusedly cautious argument concerning this early society, whereas from the (re)formation of the Society of Antiquaries in 1707, with Royal assent, documentation becomes more reliable.

In 1720 there was published a curious collection of treatises and tracts collected by Thomas Hearne entitled A Collection of curious Discourses, written by eminent Antiquaries, upon several heads in our English Antiquities, and now first published by Thomas Hearne, M.A..
This single octavo volume was followed by an augmented 2 volume collection, again gathered by Hearne, in 1771.

From the notes and journals which he kept,Hearne emerges as a not particularly likeable, friendly character. One might say that he was suspicious and vindictive (even to a greater extent than Anthony Wood, the author/editor/gatherer of material of Athenae Oxoniensis). Problems of religious belief - his Roman Catholic sympathies - prevented his development of an academic career in either Oxford or Cambridge, as well as the other domain of intellectual exchange, the Inns of Court. As his diaries show, his sympathies for the Jacobite cause surpassed his allegiance to the Hanoverian. Thus, under the first three Georges he could not expect any academic or court preferment at all. Indeed, one gets the impression that he was treated cautiously by his fellow antiquaries because of his potentially dangerous (even treasonable) religious allegiance. Nor was his own ill temper particularly endearing.
The 2 volumes of the 1771 edition of Hearne’s Collection functions as a digest, rather than as a complete record of the proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries. Ironically, the early antiquaries of the 18th century society do not seem to have been models of custodianship by any means. One factor was that of the dispersed membership, scattered across England and Wales. Only a small group seem to have been in regular attendance at the London meetings - those who lived in easy reach of London, or who had town properties there. The second contributing actor was the lack of any permanent base as such for the Society until well into the 18th century. In the early days the Mitre Tavern seems to have functioned as meeting place, committee room and library cum study collection. It was not until the Society of Antiquaries was granted apartments adjacent to the Royal Academy (where they are still housed today) that anything akin to a sense of permanence/stability could be tentatively established.

Moreover, from the outset of its establshment proper, it could be said (and indeed it was felt by many leading figures of the time) that the Society of Antiquaries was, in a way, representative of second-league scholarship.
In intellectual matters (covering both the sciences and the arts) the Royal Society undoubtedly was far more prestigious.
Thomas Sprat’s History of the Royal Society had been published as early as 1667 - only seven years after it received its Royal Patent and patronage from King Charles II. Nor was this a slender tome, but a quarto of 438pp, proudly emblazoned with a frontispiece of its Patron, Charles II himself.
Sprat’s History is divided into two sections: the first covering the historical, political, technological and epistemological issues which led to the foundation of the Royal Society; the second including a sample of papers which demonstrated the breadth of the Society’s interests. Also, the Royal Society published annual volumes of Transactions, illustrated with detailed engravings on copper; the illustrations themselves thus forming a testament - in visual terms - to the advances in learning and dissemination being made by the Royal Society. From Sprat’s account, and from the pages of the Transactions, it becomes apparent that the Royal Society’s inquiries were, on the one hand, following principles laid down by Francis Bacon in The Advancement of Learning, the Essayes, and his Sylva Sylvarum, demonstrating that observation, mensuration and experimentation were the keystones of scientific endeavour and epistemology. Secondly, that conceived thus, science, instead of being synonymous with idle speculation or specious argumentation, was not an end in itself - but had technological, and thus economic applications, both militaristic and mercantile. (Here a certain rivalry with similar achievements in the Low Countries becomes apparent.)

*

It would, however, be completely wrong to consider a spirit of antagonism creating a void separating the Fellow of the Royal Society from the antiquary during the Stuart and early Georgian period. Quite often, figures held dual membership.
As a case in point it is worthwhie briefly considering the case of John Evelyn.He proudly proclaimed his membership of the Royal Society, and applied its scientific principles to mainly botanical purposes - both in his practical gardening and forestry, as well as in his book devoted to forestry, Sylva, and to horticulture and dietics in Acetaria. On the other hand, such interests did not preclude afervent interest in Greek and Roman history and literature, quotations from which besprinkle both the forementioned books.
He published one of the first detailed studies of Roman coins, their sequence, datings, minting variants, etc. (thus establishing the format of the modern coin catalogue), Numismata (1697). Preceding this was his work on the history of engraving (closely related to nuismatics) in 1662, entitled Sculptura, or the History and Art of Chalcography and Engraving in Copper; this lastmentioned includes an engraving by Charles II’s brother Prince Rupert, better known for his military exploits rather than for his artistic endeavours.
However, it may justifiably be argued that the full range of interests and erudition of John Evelyn are not truly evident even in the corpus of his printed work, but are rather to be found in the pages of the copious, detailed Diaries which he kept.
It is from the 17th century that one can date the commencement of extant diaries and daybooks and journals in English. For the antiquary, the diary and the account book were of interest in two ways. First of all, the discovery of a diary, usually in the form of an manuscript account of a journey or pilgrimage, or of a chronicle from a monastic house (and in a sense it can be argued that the chronicle in this context functions as a sort of collective diary, kept by a series of writers on behalf of the house and the religious order of which they were members) formed a textual link with the past. What, using the terminology of Jacques Derrida, one may justifiably term a written trace of a past encounter or perception, a witness, documentary evidence, constituting the archival (see Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever).

Why the diaristic mode came to the fore during the 17th century is a problem which, albeit deserving detailed attention, lies beyond the confines of the present text. Some have considered it as a vernacular, Protestant form of confessional. Others as an extension of book-keeping/accountancy.
As quasi-legalistic memoranda. As catalogues of empirical observation and experimentation (usually incorporating a financial element) as in the account-books and recipe books kept by farmers and housewives often assume a diaristic mode. And upon this last-mentioned point, attention could again be drawn to Evelyn’s published works; for, alongside his Sylva, one often finds bound his Kalendarium Hortensis - the gardener’s almanack. ...And the 17th century marked the high point of almanack publication (as Sir Keith Thomas has noted in Religion and the Decline of Magic).

This may seem wildly tangential to the main theme of antiquarianism, the focal topic of this study.
However, all can be subsumed as being enmeshed in the network of the written, printed, drawn, engraved... TRACE.

*

This notion of the trace (for which once more I am endebted to Jacques Derrida) can in turn ‘by a commodious vicus of recirculation’ to quote James Joyce return the reader to the medieval chronicles (some of the most important monastic examples being published in the latter 17th century, as well as being incorporated into the original Latin edition of Dugdale’s Monasticon Anglicanum) which were first critically perused by John Leland and incorporated into his Itinarary...

Whilst the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII undeniably entailed the loss of an inestimable amount of cultural heritage (as Sir Roy Strong has noted; and before him, John Aubrey bewailed, as he remembered seeing bakers’ pie-trays being lined with pages of illuminated manuscripts, presumably from the large monastic houses, notably Malmesbury, in his immediate vicinity, as well as other westcountry religious centres such as Bath and Wimborne (see both Anthony Powell and Michael Hunter respectively on Aubrey)) the dissolution also caused many such manuscripts removed from the monastic scriptoria to be brought into the commercial domain of the collector. Most notable in this field was Sir Robert Cotton.

Sir Robert Cotton has recently been the subject of critical-historical re-evaluation. Previously, the major study of him was that by Hope Mirrlees - very much an amateurish effort, frequently lapsing into a style which makes the reader cringe - evidently, if one is to judge by the opening dedicatory preface, owing much to the intervention of T.S. Eliot at Faber & Faber to see it into print. Like Eliot’s own forays into Elizabethan and Jacobean cultural criticism, Mirrlees’ text tends towards the subjective, the nebulous, and the downright condescending in its attitude towards the reader.
However, thanks to the painstaking work of Kevin Sharpe, the full importance of Sir Robert Cotton’s contribution to the antiquarian milieu as collector, writer and eminence grise supporting the work of others (with the political and ideological ramifications of this) is now being brought into sharper focus.

*

Such a reconsideration of a figure as Sir Robert Cotton is indispensible in any consideration of the history of antiquarianism inasmuch as it is via a scrutiny of figures such as he that a primary, tentative taxonomy of the early exponents of antiquarianism -the early antiquaries -becomes feasible.
There is, however, one fundamental proviso to be made. Namely that it is more easy - and meaningful - to speak of various shifts within the taxonomy or taxonomies of antiquarianism during the period c.1550-1830 rather than to posit any epistemological break(s) (in the sense in which this term is used by Gaston Bachelard and, following him, Michel Foucault and Louis Althusser.
.......The epistemological break, when it does take place, as I will argue, after 1840, effectively brings to an end the antiquarianism of the early county historians and topographers.

Sir Robert Bruce Cotton (1571-1631) was educated at Westminster School and Jesus College, Cambridge. (William Camden became head of St Paul’s School in 1593; the first edition of his Britannia, a small 8vo, was published in 1586. For further information on the genesis of Camden’s Britanna, see Stuart Piggott’s essay in Piggott, Ruins in a Landscape). Cotton’s library , although it was housed in his London residence, rather than being a separate building or institution, became an intellectual landmark in late Elizabethan and Stuart London. Among the most eminent scholars to be allowed use of his collection of coins, books, mss and curios were Bacon, Camden, Speed, Selden and Ussher.
An indication of the importance of his collection, and the generosity in allowing access to privileged scholars can be assessed perhaps most readily by consulting the marginal references to both the Holland and the Gibson translations and enlargements of Camden’s Britannia.
In one respect, it could be argued that for Cotton, collecting, and cataloguing his collection, was a means of pursuing antiquarian studies without actually writing any major work.
In fact, his major work was his collection itself, in its time an unrivalled database (so to speak) for anyone wishing to pursue antiquarian studies.
It is this which makes the figure of Sir Robert Cotton so elusive, and in a way partially explains why the abovementioned study of him can be unintentionally infuriating.
He was undoubtedly possessed of great antiquarian learning. From the abovementioned list of just some of the leading intellectuals with whom he mixed, and who availed themselves of his antiquarian and library collections, one would have expected at least one magnum opus - one well-composed, perhaps illustrated folio of some 300 pages or so... the equivalent of a county history of this period. Instead of which one is faced with a miscellany of relatively short tracts written for specific purposes, forming part of an interchange of correspondence within the group of antiquaries who managed to survive the vagaries of the Civil War. These pieces were collected posthumously by the apparently inexhaustible James Howell, and published under the title: Cottoni Posthuma; divers choice Pieces of that Renowned Antiquary Sir Robert Cotton, Knight and Baronet. By J. H., London 1679.

...Thus one essentially fugitive writer’s works become collected and arranged by another of a similar ilk. For Howell himself is equally difficult to pin down.
- At which point a few words are necessary concerning J.H. (James Howell) himself.
Howell, so it seems, had no antiquarian training by the standards of his day. He was certainly no Bacon, Camden, Dugdale, Plot or Carew. Nor was he particularly adept at epitomizing or paraphrasing the travails of other antiquaries and chorographers, as were, for instance,Nathaniel Crouch who, under the pseudonym of ‘R.B’ [an allusion, or perhaps a misrepresentation or impersonation of Robert Burton, author of The Anatomy of Melancholy...?] composed the derivative Admirable Curiosities Rarities and Wonders in England, Scotland and Ireland, 1697 - largely gleaned from Camden.
As for Howell, it seems that his major publication was entitled
Epistolae Ho-Elianae, Familiar Letters, Domestic and Forren [...], Third Edition 1655, apparently adding further letters with each edition.
It is difficult to disentangle and decode Howell’s highly readable farrago of epistolary observations and researches.
At a first reading of the opening 100 pages or so, one is under the impression that these are letters being written whilst on a tour of Europe, back to friends, family and benefactors. However, during the Civil War, it seems that Howell spent much time incarcerated in the Tower, as his political allegiances were considered dubious by both sides. Thus it remains debatable as to what extent his observations are factual, eyewitness reports; or recollections of former travels; or, indeed, fabrications based upon his own reading, conversation with other political prisoners, embellished with his own fancies.
It seems strange, therefore, that the erstwhile literary executorship of such a distinguished and wealthy person as Sir Robert Cotton should be entrusted to such a person of - it would seem - questionable credentials, and certainly lacking intellectual acumen and honesty.

The actual basis (if any) of the Cotton-Howell relationship certainly needs more clarification.
However, having stated that much, perhaps this is not a single, isolated instance of literary entanglement and intellectual property-rights.

*

To adequately investigate the career of Sir William Camden, or even to carefully evaluate the various elements and figures at work in the masive reshapings which his magnum opus, the Britannia, went through from the first small 8vo Latin edition to Gough’s late 18th century text would demand a study in itself, incorporating detailed biographies of all the various contributors to the different editions, and the fundamental difference in prose style separating the first English translation by Philemon Holland (erstwhile ‘translator-general of his age’, so many Latin texts did he render into English)

It is strange, not to say apparently unfair that several writers on the historiography of English topography have sought to belittle Philemon Holland’s translation. The most common critique is that he took so many liberties with Camden’s Latin, whilst adding turns of phrase and additional material of his own, that he produced a mangled text. However, before proceeding further, some minimal information concerning Philemon Holland himself.
Philemon Holland (1552-1637) was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and, as a doctor of medicine, was master of the free school at Coventry from 1628, receiving a pension from that city in 1632. In 1600 his translation of Livy was published; a year later, 1601, followed the mammoth folio of Pliny’s Natural History. Then followed Plutarch’s Moralia in 1603; in 1606 his Suetonius; in 1609 Ammianus Marcellinus; in 1610 his Camden’s Britannia, with maps by Kip; finally, 1632, his version of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia. Sir Paul Harvey in the Oxford Companion to English Literature (1950 ed.)
comments:
His knowledge of Greek and Latin was accurate and profound, and his
renderings are made in a vivid, familiar, and somewhat ornamented
English.

To the above comments it may be added that Shakespeare scholarship has uncovered many borrowings of turns of phrase from his translations of Pliny and Suetonius peppering the works of the bard himself.

Nonetheless, by the end of the 17th century a new edition of Camden’s Britannia was thought desirable. This desire fuelled in no small way by the burgeoning of county histories and antiquarian research in England, instead of a reissue of Holland’s translation, it was decided that the whole enterprise should be started anew.
Underlying this drastic overhaul there seem to be two determinant factors. First of all, to correct faults and oversights within Holland’s text, incorporating research undertaken by the various corresponding contributors since the appearance of the 1610 edition.
Secondly, to add appropriate references and marginalia where necessary.
...Which two primary factors contributed to the third, most drastic, namely: acomplete overhaul of text and translation.
In the process, the text which Camden had originally conceived and composed became little more than a scaffolding around which later accretions by Edmund Gibson and his colleagues entirely restructured their text and concept of the Britannia.
Although Stuart Piggott has magisterially traced the genesis of this text, it is, I think, worthwhile drawing attention to a factor which Piggott tends to pass over in silence in his own essay: namely, what has been LOST in the process of this major revision undertaken under the direction of Gibson, which culminated (in the first stage) in the 1695 edition of Camden’s Britannia.
Stuart Piggott indicates that by no means all of Gibson’s ‘improvements’ are for the better. Take the following excerpt from Piggott’s essay, for instance:

The new translation has precision and a comfortable dignity, though one regrets at times the enthusiastic, if wayward, style of Holland. We lose, for instance, the charming phrase which describes Camden’s visit to Hadrian’s Wall - ‘Verily I have seene the tract of it over the high pitches and steepe descents of hilles, wonderfully rising and falling’, which is accurately, but how flatly, rendered ‘I have observ’d the track of it running up the mountains and down again, in a most surprising manner’.

[Piggott, Ruins..., p. 48]

As Piggott comments:
Here then was the Britannia adapted to the needs of the new school of antiquaries of the early eighteenth century, the circle of William Stukeley and the Gales, of Francis Wise, Ralph Thoresby and Sir John Clerk.

[ibid., p. 48]

Moreover. Piggott raws attention to the fact that the subsequent edition of 1722 acknowledged John Aubrey’s conribution to scholarship concerning Avebury in particular . On the other hand, however, Piggott elides the underhand way in which everyone except Aubrey himself seemed to benefit from his benevolence in circulating the various drafts of the facsicules of his work in progress, The Monumenta Britannia. Nor does Piggott indicate the unscrupulous way in which William Stukeley was later to pillage Aubrey ms masterpiece, and pioneering work of field archaeology. In fact, in his biography on Stukeley (which still remains the standard work on this antiquary) the apparently partisan Piggott heralds Stukeley as one of the most humane of eighteenth-century archaeologists and scholars. Personally, I am more inclined to the opinion regarding Stukeley propounded by Professor Michael Hunter in his monograph on John Aubrey and in his co-authored (yet predominantly his) Avebury Reconsidered as being a plagiarist, mentally unstable, primarily wishing to somehow reconcile his fabulist druidism with his own Christian beliefs.

*

 

 

 

A NOTE ON THE PRESENTATION OF THE FOLLOWING TEXT.

Each section - where appropriate, i.e. devoted to a text or the oeuvre of a specific antiquary - is prefaced by a brief biographical entry concerning the writer in question. Most of these are taken, with alterations and augmentations where apt, from the Dictionary of National Biography.
Such information, it is hoped, will cast light on the background of the specific writers: be it the socially privileged status which they enjoyed (for in the period under consideration, access to archival material, travel, even the time and materials for writing, demanded either an unearned (landed, mercantile/speculative, etc.) income; or the support of wealthy patronage - which in itself was no guarantee given the fickleness of court politics during this period.

 

*

 

ANTIQUARIANISM & COUNTY HISTORIES:
RANDOM NOTES ON SPECIFIC TEXTS, No. 1

WILLIAM LAMBARDE. A PERAMBULATION OF KENT, 1576.

*** The first published county history.

[The only monograph on William Lambarde so far published was written by Retha Warnicke. Containing valuable background detail, Dr Warnicke’s text, however, does not engage in a close reading of Lambarde’s text on Kent. Questions such as the methods used by Lambarde in the collection of his data - especially whence they came, access to Tower Records, the extent of his own collection, etc., are absent from the text.
Indeed, as this study has progressed, one worrying problem has come to light - to the present researcher - namely that of the extent of the books and antiquarian objects owned by the antiquaries themselves. Of the many people who have assisted me in the groundwork of this text, all have emphasized one particular problem. Namely, following the dath of the person in question, the dispersal of their collections of books and objects by subsequent generations. The upheavals of the 17th century, and the many economic crises of the 18th century impoverished many leading families. Thus the contents of cabinets of curiosities were sold off, scattered; or in one specific case, relocated in an unintended environment - the case in point being the cabinet of John Tradescant, now housed in the precincts of Canterbury Cathedral, and thus no longer in what may be termed a working environment.
Samuel Pepys’ collection (or at least that portion which he did not consider embarrassing, salacious, etc.,) along with the ornate bookcases, was donated to his old college of Wadham after his death. Thus the Pepys collection remains in an academic environment - even though Pepys himself found admiralty service far more lucrative than the pursuit of an academic career. Nevertheless, incorporated into a college library, the ‘feel’ of Pepys’ intended and eventually achieved reading-closet (as a place of privacy where only the most privileged guests were allowed) has now been radically altered - albeit preserved after a fashion.]

*

 


 

 

[From the D.N.B.:]

LAMBARDE, WILLIAM (1536-1601), historian of Kent, born in the parish of St. Nicholas Acon, London, on 18 Oct. 1536, was the eldest son of John Lambarde, draper, alderman, and sheriff of London. [...] On the death of his father in August 1554, he inherited the manor of Westcombe in Greenwich, Kent. He was admitted of Lincoln’s Inn on 12 April 1556, and studied Anglo-Saxon with Laurence Nowell. [This information is evidently taken from Anthony Wood’s Athenae Oxoniensis, which first appeared in Latin translation, under the direction of Dr Fell, who, evidently, expunged many of the more candid passages. In 1721 there was published a second - English language - edition, largely thanks to the travails of Thomas Tanner, whose Notitia Monastica was published in 1695 - much detail being taken from Dugdale’s Monasticon Anglicanum (an epitome of which, translated and devised by James Wright, the historian of Rutland, in 1695, was unfairly dismissed by Lowdnes in his Biblographer’s Manual, as a work of little use!)]
[To return to Lambarde following the D.N.B.:] His first work, undertaken at the request of Nowell, was a collection and translation or rather paraphrase, of the Anglo-Saxon laws [...]
[...] In 1570, when residing at Westcombe, Lambarde completed the first draft of his ‘Perambulation of Kent : containing the Description, Hystorie, and Customes of that Shyre’, and sent it to his friend Thomas Wotton [the dedicatee of both editions of Lambarde’s Peramulation]. It was read in manuscript and commended by Archbishop Parker and Lord Treasurer Burghley. Wotton printed it with the author’s additions in 1576, 4to, London. This, the earliest county history known, is justly considered as a model of arrangement and style. The first edition contains ‘The Names of suche of the Nobilitie and Gentrie as the Heralds recorded in their Visitation 1574’, which is omitted in subsequent issues. A second edition appeared in 1596, a third edition is undated, and others were issued in 1640 and 1656. A reprint of the second edition, with a life of Lambarde, was published at Chatham in 1826, 8vo. From Lambarde’s own letter to Wotton, accompanying the second edition, it appears that he had already collected materials for a general account of England, of which the ‘Perambulation’ was an instalment. He abandoned his design upon learning that Camden was engaged on a similar engagement [...] Camden, in acknowledging his obligations to the ‘Perambulation’, eulogises Lambarde as ‘eminent for learning and piety’ (Britannia, ‘Kent’, Introduction); the ‘piety’ apparently refers to his having founded almshouses at East Greenwich called the College of the Poor of Queen Elizabeth. The queen granted letters patent for the foundation of this charity in 1574, and it was opened on 1 Oct. 1576 [the year of publication of the first edition of the ‘Perambulation’].
On 9 Feb. 1578-9 Lambarde was chosen a bencher of Lincoln’s Inn, and on 6 Aug. of the same year was appointed a justice of the peace for Kent. He fulfilled his duties honourably, and expounded them in ‘Eirenarchia: or the Office of the Justices of the Peace [...] London, 1581. [...]

[From the D.N.B. entry, it is evident that Lambarde became embroiled, of necessity, in matters of national and local law and judiciary. This indicates, from the inception of the role of the county historian, his entanglement, whether desired or an encumbrance, with the intricacies of the Elizabethan and Jacobean legal system. In fact, such burdens seem to have been a necessary function of landowners in the Elizabethan and Jacobean period. This point has been indicated above, in the introductory pages of this study. In this respect alone, the early county historian markedly differs from his subsequent followers. This, it seems plausible to conjecture, was entangled with the county historian’s status as landowner - and often member of te titled gentry with oligations of a national and local parliamentary character.]

On 22 June 1592 Lambarde was appointed a master in chancery by Lord -keeper Sir John Puckering, and made keeper of the records at the Rolls Chapel by Sir Thomas Egerton on 26 May 1597. In 1597 by William Brooke, lord Cobham, as one of his executors and trustees for establishing his college for the poor at Cobham, Kent, and drew up the roles for the government of the charity. He was personally noticed by the queen in 1601, and appointed on 21 Jan. keeper of the records in the Tower. On 4 Aug. of the same year he presented Elizabeth with an account which he called his ‘Pandecta Rotulorum’, and he left behind a delightfully quaint note in the queen’s privy chamber at East Greenwich.
Lambarde died died at Westcombe on 19 Aug. 1601 and was buried in Greenwich Church.

*

 

Thus, gratis the pages of the Dictionary of National Biography, does the figure behind the text (within the text? who left his traces upon the text?) become more visible.
One name which needs more attention in this respect is that of Laurence Nowell, evidently a formative figure in the subsequent shaping of Lambarde’s full and variegated life, one devoted to law and languages as well as with the recording of the most memorable places in his chosen county, the county in which he was a landowner - an important consideration. One could tentatively argue that it was his allegiance and commitment to this specific county qua landowner which determined his writing. But this is not the whole of the story, as so much of his other writing points to a culture of Renaissance classical humanism as it percolated through England.
Sir T.D. Kendrick, in his groundbreaking overview of antiquarianism,
British Antiquity , 1950, comments thus:

 

[...] even at the end of the [16th] century,it required some courage to study Saxon antiquities for their own sake, it ws probably antiquarian and topographical interests that in the first instance inspired the Saxon researches of Laurence Nowell, Dean of Lichfield, whose knowledge and collections bore fruit in the topographical dictionary of his friend William Lambarde, and at least as early as 1574 for for even the pagan Saxons had become noticeable. [...]
[T.D. Kendrick, British Antiquity, Methuen & co, London, 1950.]

[Kendrick continues by drawing attention to the continuation of Saxon studies during the seventeenth century, especially in the work of Richard Rowlands, alias Richard Verstegan, especially in his Restitution of Decayed Intelligence, 1634; also to be noted in Stephen Skinner’s Etymologicon Linguae Anglicanae of 1671. [N.B. It is interesting/significant that the word ANTIQUARY is ABSENT from the entries in this book. One problem being, of course, the precise cutting of Saxon characters for the seventeenth-century letter-press... and how many keyboards in the present day have a function to render Saxon characters?

Perhaps, as as a tentative explanation of this curious phenomenon during this period was the primacy of classical scholarship at grammar school and universities; thus leaving the quaintness, so to speak, of Saxon characters, to a small, scattered group of aficionados? (To cite an instance from the 20th century, one could name J.R.R.Tolkien’s devoted studies to runic and Saxon texts: an enthusiasm which was passed on to his immediate scholars, but never entered the mainstream of university education, but remained the enclave of scholars who had come under the influence of Tolkien, or of his immediate scholars... such as Dr Stephen Medcalf, formrly of the University of Sussex; the only peson, other than Seamus Heaney, whom I have heard attempt to render vocally the cadences of Saxon poetry in performance.)

From the above it is worth noting the following specifically. First of all, that Lambarde’s researches were evidently begun in situ, in his manor of Westcombe, in Kent itself, rather than in his London chambers where, with the exception of the holdings of of the ecclesiastical libraries of Canterbury and Maidstone, a walk around the confines of the City would have yielded up a greater, more easily accssible source of original documentation at locations such as the Inns of Court and the Tower Records. For, given the social importance of Lambarde’s patron and dedicatee, Thomas Wotton, he would have been grnted relatively easy access to the major royal and governmental repositories of records in London.
Do we have here an instance of Lambarde writing and studying in the comfort of his own demesne, free from the pressures of the London court and social life/ Moreover, in writing in retirement and retreat in his own property, would this have brought him into closer affiitive proximity with the county about which he was writing?

This last-mentioned hypothesis is in tune with A.L. Rowse”s argument, cited above, concerning what he eferred to as ‘the Elizabethan Discovery of England’ - a discovery (and conquest) undertaken on horseback, in carriages and on foot, rather than in galleons and pinnaces; the navigation of roads rather than seas and oceans.
Moreover, continuing this line of thought, it is possible to argue that more enduring sources of riches (in the form of mines, land improvement, cattle improvement, and the Elizabethan agricultural revolution which swept away much of the medieval malpractice associated rightly or wrongly in the period mind with monosticism) accrued to English wealth, than from overseas quests for gold, and plundering of Spanish and Portuguese fleets. And, it must be said, at a much lesser degree of risk and outlay.
...After all, Queen Elizabeth, in the course of her rumbling Progresses around southern England, imprinted her presence on the land. She was the first monarch of England to undertake such tours of her own isle. It was good propaganda, reinforcing loyalty to monarchy especially in the wake of the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, as well as a way of attempting to check the spread of Catholic recusancy, reinorcing the notion of Defendor of the Faith, a title which her father Henry VIII had first assumed following his split from the allegiance to the Papacy in the course of his intricate marriage manipulations.

*

 

Having no textual precursor or template from which to work, or from which to derive his own ideas of presentation, how does Lambarde construct and present his finished text?

In the following draft, I take the two published editions into consideration only.
This of course begs the most important question of exactly how, by what means, Lambarde arrived at this finished - or at least published - version?

There are important issues which should be tackled prior to opening these books and attempting any analytical reading.
The most important of these are as follows:
1. The why of the text. That is, what function did it have for Lambarde as a process of composition?
2. Who were his intended readership?
3. What did he consider as the primary function of the completed text?
What political, ideological and social (let alone personal investment) purpose did he envisage the text as fulfilling?
4. How did he go about the preliminary research?
5. How did he arrive at the scheme of presentation as it is laid out in printed form?
6. How did he consider the interaction between text and the large map (which is lacking in both editions which I possess and have used in the following... a large, fold-out map which evidently did not survive as well as the texts (size of print run??). During the 19th century, and evidently as late as the 1950s - and even after - quite often the map was removed from the book, framed and glazed as a separate item.
Thus, a cartographical element which was bound into the book as part of its essential contents, was removed, as the cartographical became recognized as an artform independent of the book itself.
Thus, what was intended as a documentary element, changed function, and became regarded as a purely decorative element, prized far more than the book itself. The value of the book lay in the map above all else.
A subsection of the gentle art o book breaking.
After all, there were dealers in antiquarian engraved items long before the book (apart from the incunable) achieved the corresponding status.
Here again, the history of collecting interferes with, intrudes upon. the history of textual production.

the following notes constitute a preliminary, tentative counting and identification of the major pieces of the jigsaw, so to speak, prior
to the construction of any evaluative argument in tentatively cogent form.

...

Lambarde commences his text by casting a critical eye implicitly and explicitly over the ms chronicles of the medieval period. Especially those of monastic origin.
The only text upon which he dwells which was available in printed form at this date was that of Polydore Vergil, of whom he writes as if his intended readership hould already be acquainted with his work.
[For the status of Polydore Vergil’s text during the Tudor period, a good point of departure is provided by T.D. Kendrick in British Antiquity. For future reference and further research].
The very notion of a critical prologue at this date (i.e. of publication) suggests that Lambarde had a relatively good grasp of contemporary Renaissance historiographical methods. And also of Italian humanist thought as it percolated into England. He was certainly adept enough to handle certain humanist literary conventions, as his experimentations in Latin poetry demonstrate.
Following on from this, it would seem valid to surmise that Lambarde aspired to place the topographical (or chorographical) description upon a similar footing and ranking as history and poetry. In other words, as an essential component of humanist scholarship. The output of the Tudor court was thus in no way markedly inferior to that of her continental counterparts, albeit they might have enjoyed a head start.

It is worthwhile paying careful attention to the opening dedication to Thomas Wotton. In this passage, Lambarde mentions
i. that he received assistance from others in the loction, transcription and indication of materials and documents of importance. This suggests a convivial sharing and exchange of information and knowledge, ideally part and parcel of Renaissance scholarship; the brotherhood of humanism extolled by Italian precursors such as Alberti and Vespasiano da Bisticci among many others.
ii. Note also the significance of the extended metonymy which he uses in this dedicatory text.
He takes his basic rhetorical figure or trope from IRON FOUNDING - the industry which was at this time primarily linked with the Weald of Kent and Sussex.
Lambarde develops this trope by comparing textual composition with the casting of base metal (having removed the dross) into ‘certeine rude, and unformed Sowze, not unmeete for a workeman’.
By extension, therefore,Lambarde positions his own literary or rather textual endeavours upon a specific scale of humanistic cultural pursuits. The undertaking of the topographer is, he implies, somewhat further down the social scale than that of other humanist pursuits. His own literary craftsmanship is of a fundamentally lowly nature when compared with the productions of the cultural hierarchy.
iii. Thus, via metonymical implication, it seems that Lambarde cast himself in the role of mining prospector and iron founder in regard to his antiquarian and topographical reearches.

This rhetorically well-crafted foreword is followed by a commendatory reply from the dedicatee, Thomas Wotton, following which ambarde once again obliquely approaches the problem of the intended readership, the mode of reading implicit in his text, and the utility of such writing.

From the vantage point of the early 21st century, it is difficult to fully appreciate the diffiulties faced by Lambarde in determining precisely who constituted his readership; what they expected of his text; and indeed whether the text would be lisible (in the Barthesian sense) to his contemporaries. There seems to be a nagging worry that the text would somehow meet with incomprehension; that there would be a linguistic rift separating Lambarde from his readership. Put briefly: would they comprehend his intentions, let alone appreciate the labour invested in the production of such a tome?
And at this point there arises the thorny problem of how such a pioneering topographical text as Lambarde’s was marketed.
There was, of course, the precedent of Camden’s Britannia, and before that, the description of Britain presented as a prolonged avant-propos to Holinshed’s Chronicles - and often, it seems, bound separately from the Chronicles themselves.

Lambarde’s text (difficult to appreciate and to succinctly formulate today, in the wake of the ongoing series of the volumes of the Victoria County History and the far more easily accessible volumes of the highly successful Penguin Buildings of England series) seemed to defy the taxonomies of reading at the time. It did not readily fit into the syllabuses of the schools and universities of his time, inasmuch as it was not History as such. Perhaps the nearest classical precursor was to be located in Pausanias’ guide to Greece. But then again, to the Tudor classicist, to compare the legendary achievements of Greek civilization with the traces of human settlement and cultivation contained in Lambarde’s survey of Kent would have seemed rather absurd.

Moreover, fine and undoubtedly important book that it is, there is one serious drawback to both the 16th century editions of his text. Both lack any illustrations. And, to the general scholar, perhaps based in the environs of London, there might feasibly be a reason for visiting the major ecclesiastic sites, namely Canterbury, Rochester and Maidstone, if only on the offchance of visiting the monastic libraries; and, after the Reformation, in a more piratical fashion, paying a visit to ascertain what could be purchased or plundered from such sites. For, indeed, the backbone of many private libraries - and there were few, books being such expensive commodities - of the time was in fact the result9s of pillaging the monastic libraries.

It has to be borne in mind that ‘sightseeing’ as a category of pleasure per se was not widely developed in Tudor and early Stuart England. Travel, for most, consisted in the trudge to nearby work. For the wealthy, too, it was something of an ordeal rather than a pastime: the necessity of balancing one’s time between court and countryside. And when in the countryside, within an agrarian-based economy, it was the careful overseeing and maintainance of one’s own property which was of paramount importance. Necessity rather than pleasure remained the fundamental dynamic for travel within England until the Restoration. I set upon this date, for it saw the publication of the first of the genre of ‘road books’, namely that of John Ogilby who in strip-format showed the accepted routes interlinking the major English centres of commerce. However, in another way, Ogilby’s undertaking, however laudable, was both impractical and unnecessary. The format and expense of the book made it impractical for even carriage travel. Moreover, most journeys, because of the foulness of the ways in bleaker parts of the countryside, and the mercantile commerce betwixt nearby towns, were relatively short. Or, if a longer progress was intended from town house to country house (so that the London house could be adequately cleansed, and to avoid the dangers of pestilence in summer, then guides and outriders were quite often hired at stages along the route: hence the growth of the coaching inns from the late medieval to the late Georgian period.

*

However, following the above digression, to return to the text which it was intended to contextualize - namely Lambarde’s Kent.
Upon close reading, one consideration which is pparently absent, or elided in the opening pages is the UTILITY of the text, as well as its DEFINITION
(i.e. the manner in which Lambarde intends it to be read). Is this an instance of what might be termed the anxiety of incomprehension, of the ILLISIBLE - pace Roland Barthes - on Lambarde’s behalf? In place of which, one finds a preface of elisions preceding the corpus of the text proper.
In this manner Lambarde defers or elides any precise definition of his text or its purpose. Instead, by adopting a policy of omission, he so constructs the text that the way of reading it and its purpose becomes apparent the more the reader explores, or travels into the text.
Once familiarized with Lambarde’s compositional style, structure and function, then the reader may with more confidence dip into or consult the book for specific information concerning a particular locality (whether familiar or unknown) within the county.
It is essential to indicate - and few if any of the writers on antiquarian topography have done so - that for the earliest readers of volumes such as Lambarde’s Kent (and to a lesser extent, Carew’s Cornwall of 1602, where the division by hundreds, each prefaced by its respective map results in a greater clarity of exposition and organization) the very novelty and innovation of the genre produced its own pleasures and difficulties.
Unfortunately, few readers, whether ‘famous’ or otherwise have bequeathed written accounts of what and how they read. The two major diarists of the 17th century - Pepys and Evelyn - are the exception. Especially with regard to the history of antiquarian and topographical research, th only means of tracing modes of reading is via the footnotes and references one finds in their texts to the texts of others. Only very, very rarely does one find an annotated copy of a county history - and even less frequently a bound interleaved copy, so that the reader may make comments without intruding upon the text itself.
And such copies, it seems, are in general to be found on the shelves of the country houses which have remained in the same family for generations, and whose libraries are still intact - yet inaccessible to all intents and purposes to the general researcher. Seldom do such copies come onto the open market at the present time.


A few tentatively inconclusive remarks on Lambarde now follow.

There is little to be found in the way of descriptive, detailed topography in his book. Does this indicate a lack of the command of what might be called the EKPHRASIS OF PLACE in Lambarde’s writing?
To elucidate what is intended by the above (unintentionally gnomic) question. take a representative passage from Leland for reading - and re-reading.
As an entirely random choice of venue, cetermined by the page at which the 1576 edition of Lambarde fell open, take Faversham as an example. (A spur of the moment, aleatoric choice).
First of all, to quote from Leland’s Itinerary the longest discussion of Faversham contained therein:

Faversham is a market town franchised with a sanctuary, and hath a great abbey of blake monkes of the fundation of King Stephane. The towne is encluded yn one paroche, but that ys very large. Ther cummeth a creke to the towne that bereth vesels of xx. tunnes, and a myle fro thens north est is a great key cawled Thorn to disscharge bygge vessels. The creke is fedde with a bakke water that cummeth fro Ospring and a thorowgh fare amyle and more of, wherwas sumtyme a Meason de Dieu, that now longeth to S. John’s yn Cambrige. Herteye joyning to Shepeye liyth agaynt Faversham and the Thorn.

[Leland’s Itinerary, L.T. Smith ed., vol. 4, p. 68f.]
(Leland’s Itinerary was undertaken and written c. 1535-1543)

And now, Faversham as recorded by Lambarde in the 1576 edition:

As it is very likely, that the Towne of Feversham received the chiefe nourishment of her increase from the Religious house; So there is no doubt, that the place was somewhat of price long time before the building of that Abbay there. For it is to be seene, that King Ethelstane helde a Parleament, and enacted certeine lawes at Feversham, about sixe hundreth and fortie yeares agoe: at which time (I thinke) it was some Manor house belonging to the Prince, the rather, for afterwarde King William the Conquerour (to whose handes at length it came) amongst other thinges, gave the advowson of the Church, to the Abbay of S. Augustines, and the Manor itself to a Normane in recompence of service. But what time king Stephan had in purpose to build the Abbay, he recovered the Manor againe, by exchange made with one William de Ipre (the founder of Boxley) for Lillychurch and raysing there a stately Monasterie (the temporalities whereof did amount to a hundred and fiftie & five poundes) he stored it with Cluniake Monkes.
This house, was first honoured with the buriall of Adelicia the Queene his wife: Then with the sepulture of Eustachius his only sonne: and shortly after himself also was there interred by them. I reade none other thing worthy remembrance touching this place, Save that in the reigne of King John, there brake out a great controversie betweene him and the Monkes of S. Augustines, touching the right of Patronage of the Churche at Feversham. For, notwithstanding that King William the Conquerour, had given it to the Abbay (as appeareth before) yet, there wanted not some (of which Hubert the Archebishop was one) that whispered King John in the eare, that the right of the Advowson was devoluted unto him: which thing he beleeving, presented a Clarke to the Churche, and besides commaunded by his writ, that his presentee should be admitted. The Abbat on the other side withstoode him, & for the more sure enjoying of his possession, not onely ejected the Kings Clarke, but also sent thither divers of his Monkes to keepe the Church by strong hand. When the King understoode of that, he commaunded the Sheriffe of the Shyre, to levie the power of his countie, and to restore his presentee: Which commaundement the officer endeavoured to put in execution accordingly: But such was the courage of these holy hoorsons, that before the Sheriffe could bring it to passe, he was driven to winne the Churche by assault, in the which he hurt and wounded divers of them, and drewe and haled the rest out of doores, by the haire and heeles.
[...]
[Lambarde, 1576, p. 202f.]

Tempting though it is to quote more from Lambarde, for reasons of brevity and focus of argument, the aboe must suffice.
From a comparison of the two excerpts quoted above, the crucial difference of approach separating not only the style and presentation, but also the fundamental purpose of Leland and Lambarde respectively comes to light.

For Leland, the essential task is the presentation of a prose-picture, a topographical ekphrasis of the situation of aversham as it presents itself to the traveller. For him, it is the present impression of the specific situation (wherever it may be) which is the essential point.
Lambarde, on the other hand, enjoys to add touches of human embellishment - so much the better if they are scandalous, scurrilous and highlight religious (most often Romish) malpractice. After all, for the writers of the post-Reformation and Dissolution period it was de rigeur to emphasize the potential perils, scandals and corruptions from which England had been saved by severing links with Rome. Today, his reference to the recalcitrant monks as ‘hoorsons’ (i.e. ‘whoresons’) may provoke a titter - that within such a sober work of scholarship such low-life epithets may be found. However, at the time, such humour or rough parlance served a polemical purpose, indicating the necessity of maintaining constant vigilance against the threat posed by Papal influence. For indeed, the view of English history presented by John Foxe in his Acts and Monuments, as that of a constant striggle against the corruptions of the Church of Rome after the period of the disciples and apostles, was one which percolated the whole of English society (except, of course, those pockets of recusancy in which the Catholic faith was clandestinely maintained).
Neither Leland nor Lambarde shows the least regret for the cultural potential which had been swept away in the more impassioned outbursts of iconoclasm of the Reformation. Indeed, it would have been politically dangerous - if not potentially treasonable - to express any regrets in writing, especially in print.
...Which left the antiquary of this period is somewhat of a quandry. On the one hand, the relics and traces of the past deserved a secular recognition. Yet on the other hand, preservation could lead slowly into a backsliding into Romish idolatry, and, of more importance, of the supreme allegiance which the English subject owed to the reigning monarch, rather than to the Papacy (or the Bishop of Rome as he is most often termed in the pages of Foxe).

*

 

Tentative remarks arisisng from Retha M. Warnicke’s study
William Lambarde: Elizabethan Antiquary.
Published over 20 years ago (and evidently never reprinted or updated) this still remains the canonical - the sole - monograph on William Lambarde; this despite the re-evaluations of antiquarianism and the history of collecting and paleography during the interim period. (I am not taking into account any essays on Lambarde printed in the several journals devoted to Kent local history, or bref references in historical journals such as Notes and Queries
The Seventeenth Century, The Library , &c. )

Retha Warnicke aptly draws attention to Lambarde’s privileged social position: namely his relative wealth, both in land and in financial investment. Secondl, his positions of influence and access to circles of refinement, firstly at the University of Oxford and then at the Inns of Court.

Continuing to quote from Retha Warnicke (p. 27):

[...] he [Lambarde] had an unfavourable opinion of Stonehenge which he believed had been built in honour of the deaths of British noblemen. He wrote that he not seen anything impressive about the stones for ‘they hange with no more Wonder then one Post of a House hangeth upon another [...]

...The problem of the dating of Stonehenge remained a vexed issue from the late middle ages until the relatively methodical investigations and conjectures of Sir Richard Colt Hoare in the early nineteenth century, which dispelled many of the antiquaries’ hypotheses, paving the way for the investigations of Professors R.G.C. Atkinson and Alexander Thom - despite the great variance which separates their conclusions. More accessible - for the layman as opposed for the archaeological controversialist - are the well-written popular contributions of Rodney Legg and John Fowles (who have collaborated upon establishing he first published transcribed text of Aubrey’s Monumenta Britannica ; a text which will be discussed during the course of this work in progress; see below, eventually).

To return to Retha Warnicke’s monograph; p.30:

[...] Although the chronicles and their narratives formed a major part of the work formed a major part , the Perambulation has a significant historical importance because it contains many of Lambarde’s own personal observations about sixteeenth century.

Again, from p. 30:

[...]

It is apparent that he [Lambarde] visited Kent often and knew the county well, since he discusssed with some authority its climate, the people and their customs, the land and its vegetation, the rivers and its vegetation, the rivers and the ships that sailed them, and the tenures of land and their history. Although the chroniclers and their narratives formed a major portion of the work, the Perambulation has a significant historical importance because it contains many of Lambarde’s own personal observations about 16th-century Kent.

Retha Warnicke continues by drawing attention to the meticulous characteristics of Kilburne’s textual composition which are quite apposite in this context. She comments:

Usually he begins his description of the Kentish towns with a discussion of their histories, but occasionally, as with the village of Teynham, he permitted his own feelings to take precedence:

I woulde begin with the Antiquities of the Placeas commonly I doe in others, were it not that the latter and present estate thereof far passeth any that hath been tofore it. For heere have wee, not onely the most dainty piece of all our Shyre, but such a singularitie as the whole British Island is not able to patterne.
[...]

Warnicke, p,30

 

Albeit that Retha Warnicke has great empathy with her subject - William Lambarde - she is critically aware of the shortcomings of his outlook and textual approach concerning the responsibilities of the tasks of the county historian. Moreover, it is significant in the pasage about to be quoted, Lambarde’s approach was - even as he wrote - going out of favour; that another mode of writing was being painstakingly forged:

The greatest modern criticism of the county history [i.e. Lambarde’s; although the remarks, I think, can be applied to many other texts - both published and remaining in ms form during the Interregnum] is that the author dwelt too long on its Saxon past, and not enough on the county of his own day. Primarily a Saxon scholar, Lambarde was not interested in the ancient Britons and he had very little to add to that period of English history. [...]

(Warnicke, p. 35]

- As a tentative aside, could one state that the same criticism is valid for another book of the seventeenth century, devoted to the antiquities and topography of Kent - namely Philipot’s Villare Cantianum, a text which will be considered later in this study?

As indicated in the forgoing text, Lambarde was not an antiquary pure and simple, but performed many other functions; one of which was that of Justice of the Peace. As Warnicke indicates, in this capacity, Lambarde was responsible, among other things, his responsibility for the levying of militia and the mustering of troops, etc.. This was in one sense - that of his later readership and the collectors of antiquarian county histories - tangential to his work as an antiquary. Nonetheless, Retha Warnicke’s comments that his cultural-topographical efforts were by no means his exclusive concerns and commitments. Considered from another viewpoint - one which is, perhaps askew at this particular point in the text - could one argue that the Perambulation was the work of a seventeenth-century ‘proto-amateur historian’ (to utilize an anachronistic turn of phrase - one which Kilburne certainly would not have understood)?

Warnicke indicates that Lambarde’s Kent residence was at Halling Palace
[a photograph of which, it is hoped, will be procured for this work in progress]. In the Penguin Buildings of England, West Kent and the Weald , John Newman describes the building (which I take to be the altered remains of Lambarde’s residence ) as follows:

[...]

The ragstone wall in the NE corner of the churchyard [of St John the Baptist, Halling] is what is left of the BISHOP’S PALACE. The three blocked trefoil-headedlancets with segmental rere-arches, made of an unusual reddy-brown sandstone. Return wall at the N. end, not bonded in. Bishop Hamo de Hethe repaired and enlarged between 1322 and 1337.
At Upper Halling, .75 m. W, CHAPEL PLACE COTTAGES show angle buttresses at the E. end and the head of a lancet high in the S. wall. Was this the free chapel or chantry of St Laurence suppressed in 1547?
[p.313f.]

Retha Warnicke supplements the major text of the foregoing in the provision of the following material:

While his material wealth was increasing, Lambarde was not neglecting his intellectual pursuits and probably joined the Elizabethan Society of Antiquaries that was founded in 1586. The Society, whose goal was to further research into England’s past, had many lawyers and knights among its members, and since Lambarde was held in great esteem by the outstanding antiquaries of his age, he too, was probably a member. John Stowe gave his ‘loving friend’ credit for suggesting the form for the Survey of London , and Camden not only depended upon his knowledge for an understanding of Kent, but also asked him to review the Britannia before it was printed. Clearly two of the most noted antiquaries of Elizabethan England knew and respected his scholarship. That the society had so many lawyers and knights in its membershipindicates that the late 1580s gentlemen commonly studied antiquity, but Lambarde, of course, was a pioner in awakening his contemporaries to the value of that study since his historical research had become some twenty years before the founding of the society.
[Warnicke, op. cit., p. 79]

It was essential that William Lambarde secured some, however modest, financial support to further his antiquarian pursuits (despite his own landed income). As Retha Warnicke indicates Lambarde established (tenuous?) contacts with both Lord Burghley and Archbishop Parker during 1573. Moreover, Lambarde also sent Burghley notes on Stamford, Burghley’s home.
[Warnicke, p.79.]

 

RELIGION AND THE IDEOLOGICAL FUNCTION OF THE ANTIQUARY.

The preceding paragraph raises an incredibly knotty problem, difficult to formulate without falling foul of anachronistic misreadings.
For the sixteenth-century antiquary it was permissible to trace the ancestry of armigrous families. To collect Roman artefacts, to identify their camps and the remains of their urban fortifications were praiseworthy pursuits - even when the conclusions arrived at by the antiquaries were, in retrospect (even from the vantage point of the late 17th century with regard to their Tudor predecessors) manifestly wrong-headed.

However, to bemoan the fate of the monasteries and other religious houses, their libraries, their stained glass, their furnishings and objects of devotion, was a matter of an entirely different order. One had to distinctly differentiate between acts of collecting and acts of veneration. It is evident from reading the mss of John Aubrey that this was something which he found difficult to do. His various biographers are all in agreement that whatever views one has of his intellectual acumen and particular fixations, he was of what might best be termed a generous yet highly unsettled temperament. He was hopeless at handling finances and property of any kind. Opportunities and offers of help were squandered and frittered away; fundamentally wrong decisions were made throughout his life - as Aubrey was the first to admitand emphasize, as if proffering a warning tothose who followed after him.
The oft-quoted outburst from his writings, that he wished that it was still posible to enter a monastery, and thus avoid all the social predators surrounding him on all sides is symptomatic of his dilemma. He sought the sanctuary, but not the religious complications of a monastic life - were such a thing possible.
Aubrey was an outstanding, exemplary figure in one respect. Yet in another, he was the perfect specimen of the antiquary in his most impractical guise.
He was in his own lifetime already a prime representative of a particular social type: one of ridicule, unfortunately.
Turn the pages of John Earle’s satirical Micro-cosmographie, the sixth edition, 1633, and there one will find the mature and elderly Aubrey drawn to the life, in its way as sharply present as was Roy Dotrice in Patrick Garland’s play based upon his life.
The character - or type - of which Aubrey is a particular instance, is to be found in Earle’s small 8vo volume under the heading, appropriately of ‘The Antiquary’, which is here quoted in full, to demonstrate that Aubrey was by no means a lone figure, but rather one who, against the odds, actually managed to salvage something worthwhile, assuring his literary-historical immortality.
Earle mercilessly writes:

An Antiquary

Hee is a man strangely thrifty of Time past, and anememy indeed to his Maw, whence he fetches out many things when they are now all rotten and stinking. Hee is one that hath that unnaturall disease to bee enamour’d of old age and wrinckles, and loves all things (as Dutchmen doe Cheese) the better for being mouldy and worme-eaten. He is of our Religion, because wee say it is most ancient; and yet a broken Statue would almost make him an Idolator. A great adrirer hee is of the rust of old Monuments, and reades only those Characters, where time hath eaten out the letters. Hee will goe you forty miles to see a Saints Well, or a ruin’d Abbey, and if there be but a Crosse or stone footstoole in the way hee’l be considering it so long, till he forgets his journey. His estate consists much in shekels, and Roman Coynes, and he hath more pictures of Caesar, than of James , or Elizabeth: beggars coozen him with the musty things which they have rak’t from dunghills, and he preserves their rags for precious Reliques. He loves no Library, but where thereare more Spiders volums then Authors, and lookes with great admiration on the Antique worke of Cob-webs. Printed bookes he contemnes, as a novelty of this latter age, but a Manu-script hee pores on everlastingly, especially if the cover be all Moth-eaten, and the dust make a Parenthesis betweene every Syllable. He would give all the Bookes in his study (which are rarities all) for one of the old Romane binding, or sixe lines of Tully, in his owne hand. His chamber is hung commonly with strange Beasts skins, and is a kinde of Charnel-house of bones extraordinary, and his discourse upon them, if you will heare him, shall last longer. His very attyre is that which is the eldest out of fshion, and you may picke a Criticisme out of his Breeches. He never lookes up on himself til he is gray-hair’d, and then he is pleased with his own Antiquity. His Grave do’s not fright him, for he ha’s bene us’d to Sepulchers, and he likes Death the better, because it gathers him to his Fathers.

John Earle, Micro-cosmographie [...] The sixth Edition; augmented. London 1633. Reprinted by Methuen & Co., London, 1904., n.p..

- This is by no means the earliest description of a collector/transactor in antiquities and curiosities in the English language. In Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet one is presented with a marvellous evocation of a treasure-house of clutter... demonstrating that it was often difficult to discriminate between an apothecary and a dealer in antiquities; for quite often they would be one and the same person; or items from one classification system would migrate into another, according to the whims of fashion and the vagaries of trade.
(That the interests, lubies, and collections amassed by antiquaries, botanists, and naturalists overlapped in a most confusing and arbitrary manner - at least by the standards of modern taxonomical classification is exemplified by the accounts of the famous Tradescant’s Ark, one of the landmarks of 17th century London, which deserves further study, if only cursorily undertaken within this present text . However, for reasons of research schedule, this discussion will be deferred to an Appendix.)

...Meanwhile, to quote Shakespeare’s marvellously evocative description of such an assortment - evidently part collection, part stock in trade of the apothecary, from Romeo and Juliet. I quote from the 1685 edition of Shakespeare:

I do remember an Apothecary,
And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted
In tatter’d Weeds, with overwhelming Brows,
Culling of Simples, Meager were his Looks,
Sharp Misery had worn him to the Bones
And in his needy Shop a Tortoise hung,
An Alligator stuft, and other Skins
Of ill shap’d Fishes, and about his Shelves
A beggarly account of empty Boxes,
Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and musty Seeds,
Remnants of Packthred, and old cakes of Roses
Were thinly scattered, to make a shew.
Noting this Penury, to my Self I said,
And if a Man did need a Poyson now,
Whose sale is present Death in Mantua,
Here lives a Caitiff Wretch would sell it him [...]

This is, of course, one of the most famous and evocative descriptions of the contents and ambience (somewhat ambiguous to say the least) of the late Tudor and Stuart apothecary and his ‘shop’ - a word which is inserted in inverted commas inasmuch as at the lower end of the market (i.e. that which was not part of an aristocrat’s collection or within a college environment or the library cum study of one of the better-off antiquaries whwerein objects held in duplicate were usually exchanged or bartered rather than sold for instant monetary gain) .
Shakespeare implies that there was very little difference twixt the the quack apothecary and antiquary at this, the lower end of the social scale. Both sold unusual, bizarre items for profit.

This is a key issue (as far as I know not fully investigated) of how information was obtained, collected and eventually collated prior to being composed into a text during this period. Earle in his satire, implies that antiquaries of his age were notoriously unsystematic. A study lined with a jumble of diverse objects through which the antiquary gingerly moved, entrapped within a labyrinth of his own devising, composed of disparate elements. One thing it was definitely not - and that was a collegiate library. Nor was it the study or inner room of a person working for or on behalf of the state. One may think of Pepys’ Library, with its specially bound volumes arranged in bookcases which he had specially constructed, according to his own specifications.
Or again, one may think of the libraries of the stately homes of the gentry of the eighteenth century.
Although the antiquary was dependent upon the patronage of such wealthy figures, his own situation was muchfurther down the social ladder.
The cramped conditions in which the antiquary worked, the insecurity of his financial ability to be able to continue his studies are duly reflected in Lambarde’s text. The divisions of the territory of Kent may have assisted him in the layout of his survey. These at least presented with a readymade scheme of organization, even though it presupposes a familiarity with the divisions of Kent, which would have been unfamiliar to any other than those living in the ciunty, interested in similar pursuits. Thus, his prefatory insistance that his text is primarily intended for the inhabitants - indeed the gentry in particular - of his chosen county.

From reading and rereading the opening historical sections, the insecurities in Lambarde’s composition become all too apparent. There are no specific headings, devoted to topics such as topography; varieties of scenery; varieties of agriculture; in brief, the ‘making’ of the landscape as W.G. Hoskins termed it in The Making of the English Landscape. This is mainly because the division of history and geography and the way in which they inter-relate were quite unknown to Lambarde. (Richard Carew, in his Survey of Cornwall of 1602, less than 30 years after Lambarde, shows a much greater degree of confidence in the ordering of his material, as well as in the perambulation (or sequential arrangement) of the history and topography of his specific county. Carew was a member of the lower aristocracy, wealthy and well-educated, versed in the Humanism of European learning and more so in its courtly Elizabethan variant. He possessed money, estates, and courtly connections which Lambarde lacked.)

To continue with the reading of Lambarde’s text, in the hope of dialectically deconstructing/reconstructing his method (?) or procedure (progression) in his writing.
Having relatively early alluded to the specifics of Kent in brief form, mineral composition (in a confused form) , he turns to agriculture. Here at least one feels that there is a greater degree of self-confidence in his writing. In particular, he draws attention to the way in which the agriculture of Kent is ultimately dependent upon the system of land-tenure known as gavelkind (which topic was to exercise the brains of many 17th century antiquaries). Carew relates land use not only to climate and soil, but also to the legal ramifications of landholding peculiar to Kent. In other words, in modern parlance, the ways in which class structure have determined the apportioning of the land and the uses to which it is put.

The people of this countrie, consisteth chiefly (as in other countries also
of the Gentrie, and the yeomanrie, of which the first be for the most parte
governours, and the other altogether governed: whose possessions
were at the first distinguished, by the name of knight fee, and
Gavelkinde: that former being propre to the warriour, and this latter
to the husbandman. But as nothing is more inconstant , then
the estate of that which wee have in lands and living (if at the least
I may call that an estate whiche never standeth. Even so, long
since these tenures have ben so indifferently mixed and confounded,
in the hands of eche sorte, yt there is not now any note of difference
to be gathered by them.
(p.9f)
Immediately following, there is Lambarde’s distinction of the gentlemen
and the yeomen classes:

The gentlemen be not heere (throughout) of so auncient stockes as
else where, especially in the partes neerer to London, from whiche
citie (as it were from a certeine riche and wealthy seedplot)
Courtiers, Lawyers, & Marchants be continually translated, &
do become new plants amongst them. Yet be their revenues
greater then any where else: whiche thing groweth not so muche
by the quantitie of their possession, or by the fertilitie of their soyle, as
by the situation of the countrie.

Lambarde continues by indicating the following factors: i. the sea; ii. the rivers; iii. an established highway connecting it to - iv. London. All of which are determinants specific to the flourishing gentry. Via their entrepreneurial status, they are able to free themselves from direct contact with the land which they own, thus enabling them to enter into ‘the publique service’, and thus have time and money to utilize the countryside for pastimes.

Next in Lambarde’s text there follows the second class:

This form of land tenure, peculiar to Kent implies, so Lambarde insinuates, lesser friction between landowner and tenant; the latter in Kent being quite content economically, and not wanting the responsibilities of county and court attendance imposed upon the gentry.

Next come the group termed by Lambarde the ‘artificers’, a loosely-knit category, roughly to be understood as craftsmen, skilled and semi-skilled: providers of raw materials ‘handmaidens to husbandry’, providing building materials (it is implied for the first phase of noble and lower gentry rebuilding within the period still known by many historians of vernacular architecture as the phase of the first great rebuild; and also those invloved with the provision of coloured woollen cloth, both for home use and foreign export. Here again, it is worth emphasizing that there is an emphasis upon local pride insamuch as the woollen produce is of a high quality, good enough, in fact, to vie with the established woollen trade of the Low Countries.

However, at a point such as this, where Lambarde seems to be coming to grips with the rural economy of the county, in the next paragraph, without warning, there follows a digression wherein again the historical content is brought back into the foreground.

The first issue to be raised here is the vexed issue of the human inhabitation of Britain. Here is must be remembered that the most inflential passages regard