By fortuitous coincidence I find myself working on a paper concerning English travel from the Middle Ages (mostly pilgrimage) through the Early Modern (culture) ending in the Victorian period (exotic tourism) at the same time I’m getting ready for the first in-person academic conference I’ve attended in two years. Certain parallels have emerged that I find intriguing.
First, there is the undeniable factor that being able to travel for academic presentations and gatherings remains every bit the privilege it would have been in any of the aforementioned times. In a very general sense, having the time and the money to participate in what is in modern times a fairly mandatory professional activity for most scholars is most certainly a privilege. It is reasonably well known and documented that academics, especially though not exclusively those who are in graduate school or work in part-time adjunct positions, sometimes struggle to cover the expenses that often include organization membership and conference registration fees, lodging (and conference hotels are rarely the cheap option in town), and getting to the location which may require driving or flying depending on distance; location is certainly a barrier associated with monetary and temporal costs. In the Middle Ages, you had to have been able to not have to betide by profession to a single location for extended periods of time, and you had to be able to afford transportation, goods and services on the road and at your destination, as well as be of an acceptable social rank and often gender; this remains the case in the Early Modern times. If you look at travel guides such as The Travels of John Mandeville (c.1360), Wynkyn de Worde’s Informacon for Pylgrymes unto the Holy Londe (c.1500), and Instructions for Forreine Travell by Sir Robert Dallington (1642) the discussions are geared almost exclusively towards wealthy men with some degree of social status. Although Victorian guide such as Picturesque India: A Handbook for European Travellers by W.S. Caine (1891) might include some information and ideas for women, the focus still remained on the figure of standing, the upper-class man.
Then there is the logistical practical knowledge required that might seem obvious to someone who has been doing this sort of thing since 2006. I was personally lucky that my very first conference presentation was at a national conference that happened to be hosted by my own academic institution at the time, which spared me the costs of having to travel. I also didn’t have to deal with having to figure out where to find everywhere, not limited to but including conference venues, decent coffee and food, where to go running, any quirks of local traffic schedules or parking, public transportation if I hadn’t driven myself or rented a car, etc. All of this of course comes on top of trying to make sure schedules both at home and at the conference don’t disrupt other responsibilities like teaching, committees, volunteering, fitness classes, my cat, church, etc. More often than not, something has to be prioritized or adjusted temporarily. Nowadays, with the advent of things like TEAMS and Zoom, it’s a little easier to make some of these adjustments, but then you might have to factor in time zone differences or overlapping events. I would imagine this factor increases in difficulty for those scholars who work outside of the traditional university-based academy.
For travel logistics in the historical guides noted earlier, there is an assumption of a certain level either of know-how or ‘I’ll figure it out as I go” or “I’m sure things will work out”. The privilege elements is definitely still a factor in each of these these assumptions. For example, in The Book of John Mandeville, a general route is provided but it seems assumed that you can figure out how to get yourself “thorgh the lond of Pynceras and cometh to Grece, to the cité of Sternes, and to the cité of Affynpayn, and so to the cité of Bradremple, and thenne to Constantynople” (93-95). By the time we get to Victorian guides like Caine’s, the logistical support is better to the point of suggested packing lists, options for steamer ship companies and costs to expect.
Even though the guide to academic conference travel isn’t really a thing (note to self: possible publication opportunity?), the one big component that is shared by all of the travel times and places mentioned is why the travel is done: credit. The credit is spiritual, intellectual, or social in the historical English travel guides, and for the modern academic, it’s basically a combination of all three. Even the leisure aspect remains since there’s an old running joke that professors don’t go on vacations, they go to conferences. For the professional element, the one most unique to this modern version of pilgrimage, most scholarly conference presentations contribute at least something to the expectation and requirement of annual evidence of scholarly activity. There’s also prestige attached to certain conferences over others,; big national conferences like the MLA (Modern Language Association) are more often valued above their regional or more specialized counterparts, even though the academic content is often similar in quality; the prestige factor also can affect who gets accepted and who can afford to go since this kind of conference is considerably more expensive to attend and more difficult to get into if you don’t’ have connections of some kind than something like the much smaller, more regional and more narrowly-focused Sewanee Medieval Colloquium (a favorite of mine for the emphasis on scholarly conversation, not just passive listening). This isn’t quite as bad as De Worde’s list of indulgence credits for visiting certain supposedly important locations, but it’s still a real phenomenon.
The spiritual and social are closely related in the modern case, since in both cases it’s a matter of getting together with people who share your interests to share ideas. Depending on where the gathering is and who is going, you might even run into people you know from elsewhere or even make new friends or connections. Networking has professional benefits certainly but it’s also about making friends or even just enjoying the company of someone new. The spiritual side comes in since for a lot of scholars a conference means a break from the daily professorial routine, and it can also be somewhat refreshing to be among your own peers; nothing against students, but sometimes being with someone(s) on your level in terms of interest and experience can be a rare treat depending on where you might be based and what your area of expertise is.
None of the Medieval, Early Modern, or Victorian travel guides really address the personal edification; it’s more often about the social credit you can get for being seen as one who has done pilgrimage, be it spiritual, artistic self-improvement, or exotic experience. The modern conference has a very similar association for the contemporary scholar or academic, especially when it comes to the prestige conferences, be they more general or more disciplinary-centered. Every field has that one or two that most members of the community treat as something of a bucket-list item. Most of us who do attend academic conferences probably have that one or two that we keep trying (and often failing) to get into, as well as those that we attend and present at more regularly. Overall, I think that comparison holds up pretty well between the pilgrimage as a concept with evolving details over time, with the modern scholarly conference as one of the more recent points. While what I’ve reviewed here is probably only the surface of what might be in the future a bigger project, I think even in the brief review, there’s a lot to consider in terms of the purpose of scholarly travel today as compared with pilgrimages across time.
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