Never were two people more astonished than mine host and his spouse at this address. Had I detected them in the act of pilfering my saddlebags, they could not have looked more guilty. They offered a thousand apologies, but seemed to think the greatest affront they had put upon me was that of mistaking me for a Frenchman.
“I ought at once to have known you were no braggart gavacho,” said the landlord, “by your not making a noise on entering the house—calling for every thing and abusing every body—How do you think one of these gentry, who came into Spain as friends, to tranquillize the country, behaved to our Alcalde? The Frenchman wanted a billet, and finding the office shut, went to the Alcalde’s house for it. The Alcalde was at dinner with a couple of friends; he begged the officer to be seated, saying he would send for the Escribano and have a billet made out for him—‘And am I to be kept waiting for your clerk?’ said the Frenchman; ‘a pretty joke, indeed.’ ‘He will be here in an instant,’ said the Alcalde; ‘pray have a little patience, and be seated.’ ‘Patience, indeed!’ exclaimed the other; ‘make the billet out directly yourself, or I’ll pull the house about your ears.’ ‘Juicio! señor,’ replied the Mayor; ‘do you not see that I am at dinner?’ ‘What are you at now?’ said the Frenchman; and, laying hold of one corner of the tablecloth, he drew it, plates, dishes, glasses, and every thing, off the table. This is the way our French friends behave to us!”
I now satisfied the worthy couple that their fears of mischief arising from my “mapeando el pais,” were quite groundless; and mine host showed great intelligence in comprehending what I wished to correct in the Spanish map; the error in which he saw at once, when I pointed to the setting sun; his wife standing by and exclaiming “que gente tan fina los Ingleses!”[139]
No advantage was taken of the knowledge of my country in making out the bill, and I departed next morning with their prayers that I might travel in company with all the saints in the calendar.
The direct road from Campillos to Cordoba is by way of La Rodd; but, in the present instance, it was necessary to avoid that town, and proceed to La Fuente de Piedra, which is situated a few miles to the eastward, and without the sanitory circle drawn round the cholera.
The distance from Campillos to this place is two long leagues, which may be reckoned nine miles.
La Fuente de Piedra is a small village, of about sixty houses, surrounded with olive-grounds, and abounding in crystal springs. The medicinal virtues of one of these sources (which rises in the middle of the place) led to the building of the village; and the painful disease for which in especial this fountain is considered a sovereign cure, has given its name to the place. We arrived very late in the evening, and found the posada most miserable.
On leaving La Fuente de Piedra we took the road to Puente Don Gonzalo, and at about three miles from the village crossed the great road from Granada to Seville, which is practicable for carriages the greater part, but not all the way; a little beyond this the Sierra de Estepa rises on the left of the route, to the height of several hundred feet above the plain. The town of Estepa is not seen, being on the western side of the hill; it is supposed to be the Astapa of the Romans, the horrible destruction of which is related by Livy.
The inhabitants, on the approach of Scipio, aware of the exasperated feelings of the Romans towards them, piled all their valuables in the centre of the forum, placed their wives and children upon the top, and leaving a few of their young men to set fire to the pile in the event of their defeat, rushed out upon the Roman army. They were all killed, the pile was lighted, and a heap of ashes was the only trophy of their conquerors.
The Roman historian says, the people of Astapa “delighted in robberies.” I wonder if he thought his countrymen exempt from similar propensities!