Renaissance an excellent way to keep a young man profitably busy. For
besides the academic advantages of foreign universities, travel
corrected the character. The rude and arrogant young nobleman who had
never before left his own country, met salutary opposition and contempt
from strangers, and thereby gained modesty. By observing the refinements
of the older nations, his uncouthness was softened: the rough barbarian
cub was gradually mollified into the civil courtier. And as for giving
one prudence and patience, never was such a mentor as travel. The
tender, the effeminate, the cowardly, were hardened by contention with
unwonted cold or rain or sun, with hard seats, stony pillows, thieves,
and highwaymen. Any simple, improvident, and foolish youth would be
stirred up to vigilancy by a few experiences with "the subtelty of
spies, the wonderful cunning of Inn-keepers and baudes and the great
danger of his life."[56] In short, the perils and discomforts of travel
made a mild prelude to the real life into which a young man must
presently fight his way. Only experience could teach him how to be
cunning, wary, and bold; how he might hold his own, at court or at sea,
among Elizabeth's adventurers.

However, this development of the individual was only part of the benefit
of travel. Far more to be extolled was his increased usefulness to the
State. That was the stoutest reason for leaving one's "owne sweete
country dwellings" to endure hardships and dangers beyond seas. For a
traveller may be of the greatest benefit to his own country by being
able to compare its social, economic, and military arrangements with
those of other commonwealths. He is wisely warned, therefore, against
that fond preference for his own country which leads him to close his
eyes to any improvement--"without just cause preferring his native
country,"[57] but to use choice and discretion, to see, learn, and
diligently mark what in every place is worthy of praise and what ought