For many centuries, crimes were punished with penalties that now seem terrible to us but were intended to make an example of their perpetrators. In Barcelona, in July 1612, there was a case that left a curious documentary trail.
Word of the event had spread through the city, and a group of onlookers quickly gathered, not wanting to miss a single detail of the spectacle. The procession moved forward with difficulty. Although the scaffold was the most prominent sight, the crowd’s attention was fixed solely on the man walking towards it, wearing a ridiculous hat and a placard hanging from his chest. Insults and spitting marked the slow, shameful pace of the condemned man, who dared not lift his eyes from the ground.
When they reached the Traitors’ Square, they made him climb the scaffold. The uproar was enormous. The crowd were ready for the show.
“Since you can read, tell us what the placard says”, they demanded of a man slightly younger than the rest.
Without hesitation, he approached the prisoner. He got so close that he could smell the nauseating stench of urine and sweat. Combined with the summer heat, it was even more unbearable.
“Be quiet, we want to hear him!”, some shouted.
Photo: Cloister of the Convent of Santa Caterina (AHCB, Collection of Drawings, Sub-collection of drawings on Barcelona themes: Topography, reg. 19227)
The square fell silent, and the young man began to read aloud:
“This is Gabriel Monclús, native of the town of Maella in the Kingdom of Aragón, who, led by the evil spirit, did not hesitate, on Monday the second day of this current month of July, to sacrilegiously steal and rob the flutes of the organ of the church of the Monastery of Santa Caterina of the Order of Preachers in this City…”.
He had to pause as the square erupted in a torrent of insults and shouts against the thief, who continued to avoid looking at the crowd.
“Be quiet! Keep reading!”
Photo: Santa Caterina. View of a corner of the convent cloister. No date. August Blanchard (AHCB, Collection of Engravings, Sub-collection of Engravings of Barcelona: Topography, reg. 12441)
The young man waited a few moments for the most agitated crowd members to calm down.
“We want to know the sentence!”
He tried to shout as loudly as he could:
“It says that the Most Illustrious and Reverend Lord Bishop has condemned him to public infamy and to stand on the scaffold of shame with this epitaph and the mitre on his head”.
“And what else?”, someone asked.
“It also states that he shall be banished from the city and the diocese of Barcelona for five years… and that if he returns earlier, he shall be whipped”.
Photo: Mitre of Sant Valero. Cathedral of Roda d’Isàbena, 12th century. Photograph from 1929 (AFB, Barcelona City Council, C6_080_014)
The shouting filled the square once more. Some celebrated it as a victory, while others complained that it seemed too mild a punishment for having stolen from the convent. Yet, without exception, everyone surged toward the scaffold to get a closer look at Gabriel Monclús, who could consider himself somewhat fortunate. Enduring public humiliation was not the worst fate compared to whipping or other physical punishments inflicted on convicts. The Convent of Santa Caterina (located where the market of the same name stands today) was one of the most important in the city, and its church among the most remarkable buildings.
Monclús could have paid a much higher price for that attempted theft, since the Usages of Barcelona, which codified part of the laws of the time, included punishments such as castration, eye gouging, or amputation of various body parts, with a wide range of options from the removal of noses to fingers, and including ears or entire hands. And of course, there was also the death penalty.
Photo: Table of taxes and wages that prisoners in the royal prisons of the city of Barcelona, the Principality of Catalonia, and the counties of Roussillon and Cerdanya had to pay to their jailers (1609).
While it is true that he had to leave the lands of the Barcelona diocese, at least he could go somewhere he would not be publicly marked for his crime, because public humiliation branded the condemned for life. It was a social degradation that left them marked forever.
We do not know what became of the thief’s life, but we do know the fate of the placard. It was preserved, and four centuries later it remains in the City of Barcelona Historical Archive. The handwriting is generous, clear, and neat, designed to make it easy to read. Moreover, since many people were illiterate at the time, the placard is topped with a drawing showing Gabriel Monclús in the act of stealing the organ pipes, guided by the devil himself. It is an illustration full of expression that immediately transports you to the scene, as you can see for yourselves.
