From Juan Manuel de Prada
(PN: I guess he is that man among the frails dressed with the bordeaux polo shirt)
June throws to Madrid a barbarian sun that calms its fever between the acacias' shadows.
When I enter the Basilica of the Virgin of Atocha the good town of Madrid is already filling it. In the air the vibration of fans moving, a climate of unexpected and jubilant Sunday. The ones in charge of the protocol insist on sending me to the choir, where the credited journalists have been confined, but being nosy person I look for father Lorenzo Pascua, who waits the beginning of the ceremony in one of the banks reserved to the frails of the convent. To Pascua Father, deep at his meditations, disturbs in the beginning my arrival; but when the other frails, who arrange themselves to occupy their seat, warn him of my identity, he smiles surprised. Their reserves have dissipated, suddenly, and although, by pudor, I try to move away, he forces me to stay by his side, camouflaged between the white habits of the Dominican Frails, that have the austere perfume of a picture of Zurbarán. "Please note that the difference with my bordeaux Niki is going to strike much before the cameras", I oppose, somewhat shy. "No, no, you do not move from here", insists. Although I feel as Marcelino Pan and Vino, a little deteriotated and obese, I bear not to desobeye.
An Old Tradition
The image of the Virgin has been dresses for the occasion with the red velvet and ermine mantle offered by Queen Isabel II. Although the attire perhaps add solemnity, spoils somehow her undressed beauty, very delicately and bizantine. The image of Virgin of Atocha, that survived miraculously the profanaciones of the french and to massacre of 36 -- when most of the friars of the convent were martyred -- the brown face, almost black has on her knees Little Jesus who seems something choked between the orders of the Toisón and Carlos III. Proclaimed protective of the Spanish Monarchy in 1643 by Felipe IV, the Royal Family wanted, since the times of Isabel II, to offer to the Virgin of Atocha their children and to invoke her protection, in a tradition that is happily renewed today, with the presentation of Infant Leonor. And it is that there are traditions that guarantee the survival of our spiritual genealogy; traditions that, in their concise simplicity, explain what we are, which we will always be, no matter how much they want to confiscate our soul.
The Princes entered the basilica, summoning on their way a tide of applause. Leonor watches with perplexity the concurrence, with big eyes in which the concave sea is congregated: she is chubby and blondie, and she has deliciously chubby arms that sometimes extendes towards the people. Princess Letizia holds her with a single arm; despite her petit figure, transmits a vigor impression that makes her more beautiful. Don Felipe distributes between the people that calm cordiality that always has characterized him: he has in the smile a joy of a newly father or a cadet who finishes graduating. The choir echoes the first compasses of a chant that recalls the exultación -- nunc dimittis -- of that called man Simeón, who after seeing with his own eyes in the temple of Jerusalem the Salvator considered his life fulfilled.
That same exultación is transmitted like a benign licor between the assistants of this ceremony, who secretly speak between themselves and they are put of point of their feet to watch what happens at the altar. After the offer of the baby to the Virgin of Atocha, that completes Cardinal Rouco with the conspiracy of the microphones, the assistants start to sing popular Salve in whose notes the fervor of a millenarian and simple faith like the wheat travels: "Life and sweete, hope ours". Doña Leonor just make small moves; but once in a while she returns the head towards the audience, as if she tried to decipher the sense of those words in which the universe nests such a great hope.
After the blessing, her father takes her in arms, rises her and offers her to the Virgin of Atocha. It is an emotional moment that the good town of Madrid say vitories and applauds. In that gesture, that happened spontaneously to the Prince, there is a bet decided by the future, that he is as much as to say a bet decided by tradition. Amongst the commotion of their departure, I am successful at shaking the hand of Princess Letizia: in her handshake there is the same vigorous frankness as in her smile, a frankness without hidden nooks or corners, extensive and expansive like a sun drenched plaza.
http://www.abc.es/20060608/nacional-nacional/como-manda-tradicion_200606080828.html (a link posted by Lucys
here)
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Little_star said:
Fantastic slideshow mtcbm! Thank you so much.
viola said:
Thanks for the slideshow mtcbm.
You're welcome
!
Regards,
mtbcm
