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