Seventeenth-Century England was a “one-class society,” characterized by a tiny minority of men—at best four or five percent of the population—who “owned most of the wealth, wielded the power and made all the decisions, political, economic and social for the national whole.” Admission to this charmed circle was open to those who could “live without manual labour” and could “bear the port, charge and countenance of a gentleman.” This included not only those of noble blood and ancient riches, but “whosoever studieth the laws of this realm, who so abideth in the university giving his mind to his books, or professeth physic and the liberal sciences.” The physician, as a student of the liberal sciences and a member of an ancient and venerable profession, was accorded gentle status, unlike the great majority of gentlemen, because of his intellectual qualifications, his mastery of the art and science of healing the sick—and much else. If we would begin to understand this somewhat unusual relationship between education and social status, a question that still engages the sociologist and historian of modern society, the practitioners of London, especially the fellows, candidates, and licentiates of the Royal College of Physicians, provide a valuable focus, for it was from these men that the most fruitful medical advances of the century came and it was they who served as models for the physicians of the English towns and countryside for many years to come.

The study of professions and professionalization has received great impetus in recent years, particularly in English-speaking countries, but generally overlooked is the importance that universities have always had in determining which groups came to be recognized as professions. In fact institutionalization of training within the university seems to have been the key to professionalization from the very beginning of the modern concept, and those areas which first were regarded as “graduate” subjects (medicine, divinity, and law) early came to be looked upon as professions.

“For the great dramatists of the late nineteenth century,” writes the critic, Eric Bentley, “a play was a bomb to drop on the respectable middle classses.” In the winter of 1890–1891, the young playwright Frank Wedekind created his bomb, the explosive drama, Spring's Awakening (Frühlingserwachen), in which he bitterly attacked the moral hypocrisy of his day. In dealing with the sexual problems of adolescence, Wedekind harshly condemned middle-class prudery and an education that taught German children the facts of German history, but not the facts of life. In one frank scene after another, he explored the tragedy of this situation. Fourteen-year-old Wendla becomes pregnant without ever discovering how she conceived. She finally dies from the effects of “abortion pills.” Her lover, Melchior, searches for answers to his sexual questions and finds dishonor instead. He commits suicide. His friend, Moritz, is unable to help and wanders in despair at the final curtain. Only the self-righteous parents and teachers, who have crushed “spring's awakening,” survive.

In the eighteenth century France did not have a system of secondary education. Instead, municipalities, teaching orders, and universities operated individual collèges (secondary schools) on their own initiative and largely free from government control. The universities and the teaching orders, especially the Society of Jesus and the Congregation of the Oratory, provided a uniform administration for their respective collèges. The administration of collèges founded by municipalities varied. Many municipal officials simply had turned over their schools to religious orders and had subsidized their operation. Others had administered their schools independently, with varying degrees of control over the principals and teachers. The situation changed somewhat, however, after 1763, when the government of Louis XV created boards throughout France to administer many collèges, especially those which the Society of Jesus was no longer permitted to operate and which no other religious order could be persuaded to take over. In the establishment of these boards and in the subsequent supervision of them, the royal government and at least one law court attempted to create a loose educational system.

William the Taciturn's right hand, Marnix, Sieur de Ste. Aldegonde, is best known for his religious satire La Ruche, which is the author's own translation of De Bienkorf, wherein Catholics are mercilessly satirized for their superstition and rapacity. Considerably less well known is his educational treatise for princelings, written in 1584, but published only in 1615 by Sixtus Arcerius, a lecturer at the University of Franeker in Friesland. There are only three known copies extant, one of which is at the University Library of Leyden, one in the Bibliothèque Nationale, and one in the Royal Library in Brussels. The work first became available to the public when Marnix's collected works were published in 1857–1860 by Van Meenen and Lacroix, whose translation in French is not always accurate, although it gives us enough of an idea what Marnix's intentions were.

………nunc adhibe puro
Pectore verba, puer, nunc te melioribus offer
Quo semel imbuta recens servabit odorem
Testa diu.
Hor. Ep. 2 Lib. I

Young man, accept this advice with joy.
Open your heart to these sweet lessons.
Thy cup remains long redolent with the fragrance
of its first liquid.

To the noble and generous Lord John, Count Nassau, Catzenelnbogen, Vianden and Diest,

His respectful and devoted Philip Marnix of Sainte-Aldegonde.

Greetings in Jesus-Christ.

After conferring repeatedly with me, noble and generous sir, on the education of youth, you have deemed it opportune, or rather, in view of the authority you have over me and of my duty toward your Lordship, enjoined me to state and write an outline of my theories on the education of young noblemen, starting with their earliest childhood. As soon as I received your command, I applied myself to this task, hastily, I confess, and without a clear design, but nevertheless with the utmost care possible, within the bounds of my small talents and limited experience.