stories

The workers of Barcelona and the surrounding towns of the plain had had enough. On Monday, 26 July, they went on strike, but it soon became clear that this was much more than a protest against the mobilisation of the reservists. The discontent, festering for decades, spilled onto the streets of Gràcia, Les Corts, Poble Nou, Sant Andreu, Sants…

Meanwhile, convinced that a firm hand would solve the problem, the authorities declared a state of war and deployed the army onto the streets. To block their way, the workers built barricades, and an exchange of gunfire began. The riots lasted all day. But this was only the prelude. The next day, the rioters began their anti-clerical actions. The first church to be set ablaze was Sant Pau del Camp. Little by little, columns of smoke appeared everywhere. Barcelona was beginning to earn its nickname: the “Rose of Fire”. 
 

They managed to arrive safe and sound. There, they spent two days and two nights in fear, terrified that someone might discover their whereabouts and come after them. Meanwhile, outside, gunfire echoed constantly, day and night. Seeing that the situation was not improving, the clergymen considered escaping from Barcelona by sea, but when they tried to make their way to the port, they found the route blocked with barricades and rioters. It was impossible. 

Terrified by the idea of remaining in that burning city, they sought another option: to walk to Montgat, following the railway line. And so they did. Little by little, step by step, they moved away from Barcelona. But they could not yet breathe easy just yet. In Badalona, they realised they were still in danger when a group of carabiniers intercepted them. Fortunately, a man named Joan Font, who happened to be passing by, intervened on their behalf, allowing them to continue their journey. However, among the workers of Badalona, who were also up in arms, word quickly spread that three priests from Barcelona were wandering through the town, and people began to chase them, armed with stones. To prevent a tragedy, Font took them into his home, where they stayed until their pursuers finally gave up. Afterwards, the clergymen moved to the local parish, where the priest in charge of the rectory offered them shelter. Meanwhile, in Badalona, glass factory workers had begun to cause disturbances in various parts of the town. They needed to leave as soon as possible. But where to? 
 

What Father Roura did not know was that his home town was in mourning, for a rumour had reached Sant Pol that he had been killed. His nephew, who was also a priest in Sant Martí de Provençals, had fled with the other group on the day of the attack and had reached Sant Pol earlier. Along the way, he was told that his uncle had been murdered, and he believed the news, for when he escaped, his uncle had been trapped in the rectory. 

When the priests set out to sea, there was hardly any movement along the coast, as the fishermen of Calella had joined the strike and had not gone out to work. That was why, when someone spotted a sail from Sant Pol beach and recognised Father Roura on deck, the alarm was raised. A crowd hurried to the shore to meet the boat. Seeing the swarm of people from the sea, the fugitive priests were terrified. What if the uprising had spread there too, and they were waiting to lynch them? Only when they saw handkerchiefs waving in the air and heard shouts of joy did they finally breathe a sigh of relief.
 

This entire story was recounted by the archivist Cristina Bosch on Bocins d’història (Pieces of History), a programme produced by the Sant Pol de Mar Municipal Archive and broadcast on the town’s local radio. During the broadcast, she lamented that no copy of Father Roura’s text was preserved in the municipal collections. What she did not know was that one of the programme’s listeners, Teresa Xumetra, had a copy at home. Aware of the document’s importance, valuable not only for the history of the town but also for a deeper understanding of the events of the Tragic Week, she generously donated it to the Municipal Archive. 

Thanks to the outreach work of the Municipal Archive and the generosity of Teresa Xumetra, we can now read Father Roura’s first-hand account of his escape by clicking this link.