But The
Effects Of Being Reared In France, And Too Early Thrown Into The
Dissolute Courts Of Europe, Were Evident
At the Restoration, when
Charles the Second and his friends returned to startle England with
their "exceeding wildness." What else
Could be the effect of a youth
spent as the Earl of Chesterfield records:[273] at thirteen years old a
courtier at St Germaine: at fourteen, rid of any governor or tutor: at
sixteen, at the academy of M. de Veau, he "chanced to have a quarrel
with M. Morvay, since Captaine of the French King's Guards, who I hurt
and disarmed in a duel." Thereupon he left the academy and took up his
abode at the Court of Turin. It was from Italy, De Gramont said, that
Chesterfield brought those elaborate manners, and that jealousy about
women, for which he was so notorious among the rakes of the
Restoration.[274]
Henry Peacham's chapter "Of Travaile"[275] is for the most part built
out of Dallington's advice, but it is worthy of note that in The
Compleat Gentleman, Spain is pressed upon the traveller's attention for
the first time. This is, of course, the natural reflection of an
interest in Spain due to the romantic adventures of Prince Charles and
Buckingham in that country. James Howell, who was of their train, gives
even more space to it in his Instructions for Forreine Travell.
Notwithstanding, and though Spain was, after 1605, fairly safe for
Englishmen, as a pleasure ground it was not popular. It was a
particularly uncomfortable and expensive country; hardly improved from
the time - (1537) - when Clenardus, weary with traversing deserts on his
way to the University of Salamanca, after a sparse meal of rabbit, sans
wine, sans water, composed himself to sleep on the floor of a little
hut, with nothing to pillow his head on except his three negro grooms,
and exclaimed, "O misera Lusitania, beati qui non viderunt."[276] All
civilization was confined to the few large cities, to reach which one
was obliged to traverse tedious, hot, barren, and unprofitable wastes,
in imminent danger of robbers, and in certainty of the customs officers,
who taxed people for everything, even the clothes they had on. None
escaped. Henry the Eighth's Ambassador complained loudly and frantically
of the outrage to a person in his office.[277] So did Elizabeth's
Ambassador. But the officers said grimly "that if Christ or Sanct
Fraunces came with all their flock they should not escape."[278] If the
preliminary discomforts from customs-officers put travellers into an ill
mood at once against Spain, the inns confirmed them in it. "In some
places there is but the cask of a House, with a little napery, but
sometimes no beds at all for Passengers in the Ventas - or Lodgings on
the King's highway, where if passengers meet, they must carry their
Knapsacks well provided of what is necessary: otherwise they may go to
bed supperless."[279] The Comtesse d'Aunoy grumbles that it was
impossible to warm oneself at the kitchen-fire without being choked, for
there was no chimney. Besides the room was full of men and women,
"blacker than Devils and clad like Beggars ... always some of 'em
impudently grating on a sorry Guitar."[280] Even the large cities were
not diverting, for though they were handsome enough and could show
"certain massie and solid Braveries," yet they had few of the
attractions of urban life. The streets were so ill-paved that the horses
splashed water into one's carriage at every step.[281] A friend warned
Tobie Matthew that "In the Cities you shall find so little of the
Italian delicacie for the manner of their buildings, the cleannesse and
sweetnesse of their streets, their way of living, their entertainments
for recreations by Villas, Gardens, Walks, Fountains, Academies, Arts of
Painting, Architecture and the like, that you would rather suspect that
they did but live together for fear of wolves."[282]
How little the solemnity of the Spanish nobles pleased English courtiers
used to the boisterous ways of James I. and his "Steenie," may be
gathered from The Perambulation of Spain.[283] "You must know," says
the first character in that dialogue, "that there is a great deal of
gravity and state in the Catholic Court, but little noise, and few
people; so that it may be call'd a Monastery, rather than a Royal
Court." The economy in such a place was a great source of grievance. "By
this means the King of Spain spends not much," says the second
character. "So little," is the reply, "that I dare wager the French King
spends more in Pages and Laquays, than he of Spain among all his Court
Attendants." Buckingham's train jeered at the abstemious fare they
received.[284] It was in such irritating contrast to the lofty airs of
those who provided it. "We are still extream poor," writes the English
Ambassador about the Court of Madrid, "yet as proud as Divells, yea even
as rich Divells."[285] Not only at Court, but everywhere, Spaniards were
indifferent to strangers, and not at all interested in pleasing them.
Lord Clarendon remarks that in Madrid travellers "will find less delight
to reside than in any other Place to which we have before commended
them: for that Nation having less Reverence for meer Travellers, who go
Abroad, without Business, are not at all solicitous to provide for their
Accomodation: and when they complain of the want of many Conveniences,
as they have reason to do, they wonder men will come from Home, who will
be troubled for those Incommodities."[286]
It is no wonder, therefore, that Spain was considered a rather tedious
country for strangers, and that Howell "met more Passengers 'twixt Paris
and Orleans, than I found well neer in all the Journey through
Spain."[287] Curiosity and a desire to learn the language might carry a
man to Madrid for a time, but Englishmen could find little to commend
there. Holland, on the other hand, provoked their admiration more and
more.
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