And for that alone
was Salamanca ever famous. Its halls are now almost silent, and
grass is growing in its courts, which were once daily thronged by
at least eight thousand students; a number to which, at the present
day, the entire population of the city does not amount. Yet, with
all its melancholy, what an interesting, nay, what a magnificent
place is Salamanca! How glorious are its churches, how stupendous
are its deserted convents, and with what sublime but sullen
grandeur do its huge and crumbling walls, which crown the
precipitous bank of the Tormes, look down upon the lovely river and
its venerable bridge.
What a pity that, of the many rivers in Spain, scarcely one is
navigable. The beautiful but shallow Tormes, instead of proving a
source of blessing and wealth to this part of Castile, is of no
further utility than to turn the wheels of various small water
mills, standing upon weirs of stone, which at certain distances
traverse the river.
My sojourn at Salamanca was rendered particularly pleasant by the
kind attentions and continual acts of hospitality which I
experienced from the inmates of the Irish College, to the rector of
which I bore a letter of recommendation from my kind and excellent
friend Mr. O'Shea, the celebrated banker of Madrid.
