George B. Parks (essay date 1928)
SOURCE: Parks, George B. “The Hakluyt Legacy.” In Richard Hakluyt and the English Voyages, edited by James A. Williamson, pp. 223-29. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1928.
[In the following excerpt, Parks discusses Purchas's handling and publishing of Hakluyt's materials regarding his travels.]
Of Hakluyt's collections during these final years before his death in 1616 it is at length time to speak. By an arrangement which has not been fully recorded they passed to another clergyman of somewhat similar interests and were by him, though with what completeness we cannot say, included in the fourth great collection of the records of travel, Purchas His Pilgrims. … This book is Hakluyt's literary legacy. Published in 1625, it continued Hakluyt's career in the catch title of Hakluytus Posthumus.1
One's first impression of the Reverend Samuel Purchas, chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury, is that he distinctly lacked dignity. The tone of his prefaces is a mixture of naïve parade with fawning humility. The style is a vapid and tasteless euphuism of a sophomoric sort. By contrast Hakluyt immediately increases in moral stature; his lapses, as they seem now, from self-respect become insignificant, his manner of address to men of rank a model of dignity. To dwell on the contrast is to discover a growing dislike to Purchas, whose features gradually and irresistibly resolve into the features of Pecksniff.
Following out the contrast in less unfriendly mood, one discovers that Purchas was a self-made man, as Hakluyt unmistakably was not. Instead of being a gentleman born, Purchas was the son of an Essex farmer or tradesman. Instead of finding a swift road to preferment, leveled by family prestige and official favor, Purchas made his way through St. John's College, Cambridge, and on leaving became a poor curate and household servant of an Essex rector. He married a fellow servant and by the time he was thirty had managed to become the vicar of a neighboring parish. To lift himself from rural obscurity Purchas then devoted his talents to history and, by dint of what must have been a long and labored process of compilation, produced in 1613, when he was forty years old, the folio volume he called Purchas His Pilgrimage.
The volume brought its author instant recognition. Within a year he was made chaplain to the Archbishop, to whom it was dedicated and who had himself written a brief textbook on geography. The King read the bulky volume seven times, though he seems to have given the author no more than the breath of his approbation. But the Bishop of London obtained for Purchas the living of St. Martin's, Ludgate, and subsequently he was able to bring out three successively enlarged editions.
The death of Hakluyt in 1616 gave him new opportunity. Seeking out, it is likely, Hakluyt's son or widow, he obtained Hakluyt's papers. The manuscripts became the nucleus of a new work. He added to them a vast amount of compiling of the records of universal travel; he brought the English travel records down to date; and with the help of “charitable friends” he published in 1625, with a dedication to the new King, the four immense folios of the Pilgrims.
It follows from this personal history that, again in contrast with his predecessor, Purchas was in no intelligible way concerned with the history and development of science or of enterprise. “Being,” he wrote in the preface to his first book, the Pilgrimage, “I know not by what natural inclination, addicted to the study of history, … I here bring Religion from Paradise to the Ark, and thence follow her round about the World, and (for her sake) observe the World itself, with the several Countries and Peoples therein.” At the beginning he was then primarily an anthropologist; and, though his interests may have developed as he took over Hakluyt's heritage, they remained, as far as we know, essentially academic. With him is then reached the final and perhaps decadent stage in specialization which, I have said, conditions the advancement of learning. Hakluyt was the historian and the scientist by profession; but by virtue of that profession he was the man of action as well. Purchas was exclusively the antiquarian. Hakluyt met on nearly equal terms the captains of enterprise. Purchas, except for some possible dealings with Captain John Smith and except for a late acquired membership in the Virginia Company, was an outsider, a bookish clergyman who came hat in hand to copy the records of trade.
So at least the picture composes. Instead of the gentleman, the poor man; instead of the churchman of rank, the holder of a single living; instead of the professional scientist, the self-made historian; instead of the adviser of privy councillors and merchant princes, the obscure penman. Whatever our impression of Purchas' manners, the picture compels admiration for the persistence of his long struggle.
Our feelings toward him thus improved, we may consider his relations with Hakluyt in order to understand his achievement. Purchas' first work, the Pilgrimage, being a sort of religious geography, was dependent for its information on the historians and political geographers of all ages and, for modern times, especially on Ramusio and on Hakluyt, whose works, Purchas acknowledged, “have been two libraries unto me.” The appearance of his immense history of religion, already in its first edition larger than Hakluyt's first English Voyages, apparently brought its author to the geographer's notice. There was an exchange of courtesies, and for his enlarged second edition, printed in 1614, Purchas wrote that “now in this edition I have been much beholden to Mr. Hakluyt for many written treatises in this kind.” Hakluyt had sent him manuscripts; and, in return Purchas launched upon his easy flow of praise. The veteran, he wrote in the same edition, “though known at this time only by those portraitures [the Voyages] hath been an Admiral, holding out the light unto me in these Seas, and as diligent a guide … and now his helps in this second edition have much more obliged me.” And his praise rose to his usual hyperbole when he called Hakluyt “Neptune's Secretary and the Ocean's Protonotary.”2
Then followed a coolness. Perhaps Neptune's Secretary took offense: one is only too willing to believe that Purchas could be offensive; and the third edition of the Pilgrimage, in 1617, presents its author in a nobly forgiving pose. “Although in this third edition,” he wrote, “I could not obtain like kindness from him, I know not how affected or infected with emulation or jealousy: yet shall his name live while my writings endure. … And this [book] is my epitaph in his memory, who hath yet a better, his own large volumes being the best and truest Titles of his House; and if some Juno Lucina would help to bring forth the Posthumus issue of his Voyages not yet published, the World should enjoy a more full testimony of his pains in that kind.”3
One cannot go behind this version of de mortuis nil nisi bonum. One cannot discover from it Hakluyt's dying attitude toward Purchas. It is likewise difficult to be sure of the transactions between Purchas and the Hakluyt heirs. Purchas had probably planned to take on at once, on Hakluyt's death in November 1616, the functions of Juno Lucina; and he did obtain the Hakluyt legacy on “hard conditions,” as he said later. Meantime he set to work on another immense book. In 1619 he published the eight hundred pages of Purchas His Pilgrim. This was subtitled Microcosmus, or The...
(The entire section is 3174 words.)