Autobiography of Sir John Rennie, F.R.S 40

Autobiography of Sir John Rennie, F.R.S 40

which was in anything but a thriving state, we returned to the fonda

or hotel, miserable as it was, to our dinner, previous to starting for

Aranjuez.

 

We had just done dinner when an officer of police made his appearance,

and said very politely that the civil governor wished to see me. I

said that I had already seen him, and paid my respects, and shown my

passport; I asked if anything was wrong with it. He said no, then went

away, and again returned, saying the civil governor must see me. I

again asked if the passport was right. He said perfectly. Then I said

that I thought the governor’s conduct was extraordinary, and I declined

going. Two more police officers then came, and said that the gates of

the city were closed to me, and that I should not leave without first

going to the civil governor. My friend Downie then got alarmed, and said

that he would go with the officers, see the civil governor and explain

matters. He accordingly went, and asked the civil governor what he

meant. The governor replied that he was surrounded by Carlists, and he

was obliged to be constantly on his guard, for fear of an insurrection;

but he had been informed that I had brought a private letter to the

archbishop, who was the greatest Carlist in the place, and he must know

what that letter contained. Fortunately it was open, and both Downie

and I had read it before delivering it, and it was nothing more than a

request that we might be shown everything in the cathedral. With this

explanation the governor was perfectly satisfied, and dispensed with my

personal attendance, which I was glad of, and determined to carry no more

introductory letters, for at that time it was most dangerous to both

parties. Off we started, but were stopped at the city gates, at which we

were both much annoyed, and being determined that we would stand this

annoyance no longer, were just going to force our way through, when a

messenger from the governor told them to let us go, and off we galloped

as hard as possible.

 

Before leaving Madrid I visited some of the convents, though with great

difficulty, for a short time before my arrival the mob, in a fit of

revolutionary excitement, had attacked several of them, and murdered

many of the unfortunate inmates, whilst the rest were obliged to fly for

their lives. When I applied for admission it was refused, until learning

that I was an Englishman, they opened the outer gates, which had been

well secured, and admitted me, and a melancholy spectacle I beheld. Very

few of the monks remained, and those that I saw had their heads and arms

bandaged up on account of the wounds they had received. A great deal

of property had been destroyed, and a still greater quantity had been

stolen; in fact everything had a most wretched and desolate appearance.

Shortly afterwards the whole of the convents and religious establishments

for monks and nuns were shut up by order of the government, and all the

property was seized for the benefit (?) of the nation.

 

Leaving Madrid with several others, we proceeded to France _viâ_

Saragossa and Barcelona, as the direct route through Bayonne was of

course quite impracticable. Barcelona was then, and is now, taking it

altogether, the finest and most thriving town in the peninsula, and

may be called the Manchester of Spain. It is situated on the shore of

the Mediterranean, in a rich fertile plain, backed by a lofty range of

mountains about three or four miles distant. The central streets are very

narrow, but the Marina and artificial harbour, with the fine spacious

quays by which they are surrounded, have a noble effect, although the

mole, a fine work as it undoubtedly is, has been badly designed with

respect to the currents and the great quantity of alluvial matter held

in suspension by the waters, and carried along the shore from the deltas

and mouths of the Hobugal and Ebro. The consequence is, that the space

covered by the mole is constantly filling up, and requires incessant

dredging at great expense; notwithstanding which, the trade is so great

that the harbour is always more or less full of shipping, and besides

its manufactures of cotton and silk, it exports largely wine, oil, bark,

fruits, and timber.

 

I made an excursion with my servant to the celebrated convent of Monte

Serrata, situated upon the mountain of that name, about 30 miles to the

west of Barcelona; starting early in the morning, and stopping at the

bridge of Mastoul across the Hobugal, about 15 miles from Barcelona.

Here I enjoyed, from below the bridge, one of the most interesting and

beautiful views, I think, that I ever beheld. Facing me was the bridge,

consisting of two Gothic arches; the south one was the largest I ever

saw, being about 140 feet span. On the north side of the bridge was a

Roman arch, in tolerable preservation, except the cornice; and on the

south side of the bridge were the remains of a Moorish fort. Thus I

had before me, at one _coup d’œil_, the ruined works of three great

nations; in the distance was the convent of Montserrat, perched upon the

mountain side, with its numerous pinnacles rising above it, and these

overtopped by the numerous lofty peaks of the Pyrenees behind. Whilst

examining the bridge, I perceived on a sudden a large body of troops,

with several mounted officers, rapidly approaching; upon inquiring the

cause, I was told by an officer that I had better get out of the way as

soon as possible, as there were a great many Carlists about, and they

expected to be attacked every minute, as they had to defend the pass to

prevent the Carlists from getting to Barcelona. I therefore went off at

once to the convent. I left the carriage at the bottom of the mountain,

at a small inn, and got a man to carry up our things; and having a

letter to the worthy superior, was most hospitably received. They

gave us a comfortable dinner. We then set out to examine the numerous

hermitages which were perched upon different peaks of the mountain,

which resembled the teeth of a saw, from which the hill takes its name.

These hermitages consisted of a small hut, just large enough for the

hermit’s bed, and table, and chair; here they remained winter and summer,

and only occasionally descended to the convent. All the hermitages were

empty, the hermits had fled, and there were scarcely a dozen monks in the

convent. Whilst climbing about the mountain I observed several Carlist

scouts, well armed, lurking about, and I saw others at a distance--no

doubt they were part of the attacking force expected at Barcelona; they,

however, did not molest me, and I was too happy to leave them alone. The

view from the mountain all round is very fine; all the leading valleys

are filled with manufacturing towns and villages, amongst the principal

of which was Manresa, in the valley immediately below us. We got back

to the convent soon after dark, where the prior had ordered us a good

supper, and afterwards invited me to his apartments, where he gave an

excellent concert, which was very well executed by the choristers and

monks attached to the convent. I soon found out that the prior and all

around him were most devoted partisans of Don Carlos, and wished the

Christinos and all revolutionists to perdition, to which place they said

they would be most assuredly consigned. Knowing that I was an Englishman,

and being recommended to him, he felt himself perfectly at home with

me, and seemed to be tolerably well informed about English politics:

he understood perfectly well the difference between Whigs, Tories, and

Radicals, and had not a doubt but that the good sense and talent of the

Tories would soon upset the Whigs and Radicals; and so far he proved

right; but he went on to say that they would assist the Spanish Carlists,

and send all the Christinos and their wicked associates to the devil,

where they ought to go; for the Catholic religion could never thrive and

Spain never could prosper so long as the Christinos were triumphant. By

this time I could get on tolerably well with Spanish. We conversed on

various topics, and passed the evening very agreeably, as the prior was

a very superior person, and really, considering that he was a Spanish

priest, he was an enlightened man, and by no means bigoted. He said that

no nation could prosper without religion; and according to his belief

he considered that the Roman Catholic was the true faith; at the same

time he did not mean to say that a person professing any other religion

could not be saved, but that God in His great mercy would pardon their

ignorance. We bade the prior good-night, thanking him much for his

kindness, and retired to our dormitory, which was very cold and solitary,

near the chapel: we had plenty of cloaks, which were indispensable; and

I told my man to make a stiff glass of hot punch, not only for myself,

but also for the worthy monks who attended us, and I took care that they

should be offered supper; but although they had a glass of punch and a

cigar, they would take no more. The night was very cold, the moon shone

bright, and the stillness was remarkable. I awoke long before light, and

heard the monks saying their matins; feeling it was cold, I got more

covering, and again fell asleep. Awaking soon after eight o’clock, we got

up, and had chocolate; then, making a handsome present to the poor-box,

I retraced my steps downwards, and I must say that I never passed a more

agreeable day. The scenery was magnificent; that alone was sufficient

to recompense anyone for the journey; and in addition to this there was

the visit to this great convent, at one time one of the most powerful in

Spain, but now in its decadence, and its once powerful inmates degraded

so far as to hope for deliverance from the formerly hated and persecuted

heretics of England! It was a most singular sight; and it is still more

extraordinary, that after a lapse of thirty-four years, these very

Christinos, with the queen at their head, should now be persecuting

all liberal Catholics, and again threatening the establishment of the

Inquisition.

 

Leaving Barcelona, I traversed France, passing through Toulouse,

Bordeaux, and Paris, and reached London in the beginning of 1834.

 

Although not strictly in chronological order, I will here mention one or

two incidents which occurred to me shortly before, and which may be of

interest. In the early part of 1831 the cholera visited England for the

first time. Everybody was alarmed at its approach: it was a mysterious

disease, nobody seemed to know much about it. They knew that it came from

India, and that it was most fatal and capricious, sometimes attacking

those on the mountains, and sometimes those on the plains; sometimes,

in passing through towns and villages, carrying off in its strange and

deadly course all those on one side of a street, leaving the other side

untouched. It was making its way regularly from the East to the West,

deviating rather northwards in its course, and hence it approached Europe

by Russia, thence to the north of Germany. Its regular and gradual

approach struck everyone with awe: we saw the enemy coming, but how to

avoid or how to attack him nobody knew. The medical profession were

completely at fault, all suggesting different remedies, each proposing

what he considered his own specific, yet doubtful of the result. At

last the dreaded mystery leaped across the German Ocean, and made its

appearance in Sunderland, where it spread alarm and dismay far and wide.

It then turned southward, and made its appearance in London, in the

month of March, and numbers left the city, flying in all directions. The

French, dreading its invasion, closed their ports, and placed England in

quarantine, but in vain attempted to shut out the terrible malady, for,

in two or three months apparently glutted with death, it jumped over the

Channel into France, and became more virulent than ever. The French

physicians, who had visited England during its prevalence, and thought

they had acquired good knowledge of the disease and its treatment, were,

if anything, more at fault than our own medical men; for the disease held

them as it were in derision, and in Paris seven thousand fell victims in