Valladolid is seated in the midst of an immense valley, or rather hollow which seems to have been scooped by some mighty convulsion out of the plain ground of Castile.The eminences which appear in the neighbourhood are not properly high grounds, but are rather the sides of this hollow.They are jagged and precipitous, and exhibit a strange and uncouth appearance.Volcanic force seems at some distant period to have been busy in these districts.Valladolid abounds with convents, at present deserted, which afford some of the finest specimens of architecture in Spain.The principal church, though rather ancient, is unfinished: it was intended to be a building of vast size, but the means of the founders were insufficient to carry out their plan: it is built of rough granite.Valladolid is a manufacturing town, but the commerce is chiefly in the hands of the Catalans, of whom there is a colony of nearly three hundred established here.It possesses a beautiful alameda, or public walk, through which flows the river Escurva.The population is said to amount to sixty thousand souls.
We put up at the Posada de las Diligencias, a very magnificent edifice: this posada, however, we were glad to quit on the second day after our arrival, the accommodation being of the most wretched description, and the incivility of the people great; the master of the house, an immense tall fellow, with huge moustaches and an assumed military air, being far too high a cavalier to attend to the wants of his guests, with whom, it is true, he did not appear to be overburdened, as I saw no one but Antonio and myself.He was a leading man amongst the national guards of Valladolid, and delighted in parading about the city on a clumsy steed, which he kept in a subterranean stable.
Our next quarters were at the Trojan Horse, an ancient posada, kept by a native of the Basque provinces, who at least was not above his business.We found everything in confusion at Valladolid, a visit from the factious being speedily expected.All the gates were blockaded, and various forts had been built to cover the approaches to the city.Shortly after our departure the Carlists actually did arrive, under the command of the Biscayan chief, Zariategui.They experienced no opposition; the staunchest nationals retiring to the principal fort, which they, however, speedily surrendered, not a gun being fired throughout the affair.As for my friend the hero of the inn, on the first rumour of the approach of the enemy, he mounted his horse and rode off, and was never subsequently heard of.On our return to Valladolid, we found the inn in other and better hands, those of a Frenchman from Bayonne, from whom we received as much civility as we had experienced rudeness from his predecessor.
In a few days I formed the acquaintance of the book-seller of the place, a kind-hearted simple man, who willingly undertook the charge of vending the Testaments which I brought.
I found literature of every description at the lowest ebb at Valladolid.My newly-acquired friend merely carried on bookselling in connexion with other business; it being, as he assured me, in itself quite insufficient to afford him a livelihood.During the week, however, that I continued in this city, a considerable number of copies were disposed of, and a fair prospect opened that many more would be demanded.To call attention to my books, I had recourse to the same plan which Ihad adopted at Salamanca, the affixing of advertisements to the walls.Before leaving the city, I gave orders that these should be renewed every week; from pursuing which course Iexpected that much manifold good would accrue, as the people would have continual opportunities of learning that a book which contains the living word was in existence, and within their reach, which might induce them to secure it and consult it even unto salvation.
In Valladolid I found both an English and Scotch College.
From my obliging friends, the Irish at Salamanca, I bore a letter of introduction to the rector of the latter.I found this college an old gloomy edifice, situated in a retired street.The rector was dressed in the habiliments of a Spanish ecclesiastic, a character which he was evidently ambitious of assuming.There was something dry and cold in his manner, and nothing of that generous warmth and eager hospitality which had so captivated me in the fine Irish rector of Salamanca; he was, however, civil and polite, and offered to show me the curiosities of the place.He evidently knew who I was, and on that account was, perhaps, more reserved than he otherwise would have been: not a word passed between us on religious matters, which we seemed to avoid by common consent.Under the auspices of this gentleman, I visited the college of the Philippine Missions, which stands beyond the gate of the city, where I was introduced to the superior, a fine old man of seventy, very stout, in the habiliments of a friar.There was an air of placid benignity on his countenance which highly interested me: his words were few and simple, and he seemed to have bid adieu to all worldly passions.One little weakness was, however, still clinging to him.
MYSELF.- This is a noble edifice in which you dwell, Father; I should think it would contain at least two hundred students.
RECTOR.- More, my son; it is intended for more hundreds than it now contains single individuals.
MYSELF.- I observe that some rude attempts have been made to fortify it; the walls are pierced with loopholes in every direction.
RECTOR.- The nationals of Valladolid visited us a few days ago, and committed much useless damage; they were rather rude, and threatened me with their clubs: poor men, poor men.
MYSELF.- I suppose that even these missions, which are certainly intended for a noble end, experience the sad effects of the present convulsed state of Spain?
RECTOR.- But too true: we at present receive no assistance from the government, and are left to the Lord and ourselves.
