Tears and anger at state funeral for Madrid bombing victims

From ELIZABETH NASH in Madrid

As members of the congregation filed one by one to the high altar of Madrid's Almudena cathedral to take communion from the citys Archbishop, one relative who had lost a loved one in the bombings two weeks ago turned to Queen Sofia who was sitting near the altar struggling to control her own grief. The Queen grasped the woman's hands, and tears streamed down her face.

It was the first gesture of human warmth in a ceremony rich in pomp, protocol and episcopal purple but otherwise as cold and bleak as the unlovely building in which it was held.

A man stumbled towards King Juan Carlos, who took his hand then shook out a white monogrammed handkerchief and blew his nose, his face congested with emotion.

More than 30 bishops, cardinals and archbishops presided over the first state funeral that modern Spain has held for non-members of the royal family. Some 2,000 people filled the cathedral, the entire Spanish royal family, including Prince Felipe and his fiancee, the two princesses and their spouses, plus political leaders, royals and representatives of more than 50 countries - and some 600 bereaved relatives.

Only the cream robes of the Moroccan Kings brother, Prince Mulay, and the motley garb of the stricken families broke the black-clad ranks of mourners.

Huge screens and hundreds of chairs were placed outside the cathedral for members of the public to follow the service, but the screen provided only mute pictures, and freezing drizzle deterred all but a few dozen.

Streets around the cathedral were closed off since Tuesday afternoon in a stringent security operation that compounded the funereal atmosphere that pervaded the capital.

As the outgoing Prime Minister, Jose Maria Aznar, took his place before the ceremony opened with the dirge-like Spanish national anthem, one man cried out, his voice breaking: "Mr Aznar, I hold you responsible for the death of my son!"

King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia turned their heads to the sound, but seconds later the organ music and choral singing began.

It was Mr Aznars first significant public appearance since the elections that threw him from power last Sunday week. He looked haggard, ten years older.

Outbursts of grief and sobbing periodically interrupted the solemn chants and readings whilst flocks of clerics in billowing gilded robes wove to and fro with candles, chalices and incense burners.

"Great pain has filled your lives and those of your families since that black day in which brutal terrorist violence, planned and executed with unspeakable cruelty, ended the lives of those whom you dearly loved," the Archbishop of Madrid, Cardinal Jose Maria Rouco Varela, said in his sermon.

He urged Spaniards to reject "exasperated nationalism, racism and intolerance" and to counter "blind violence and inhuman hate with the fascinating power of love."

High above the altar was draped a vast white sheet hung with a black twisted banner in a symbol of mourning. The monochrome backdrop matched the bleached interior of the cathedral, and contributed to the overall lugubrious chill.

The service was not long, barely an hour, after which the entire Spanish royal family moved among the pews and greeted each family member individually.

The spontaneous expression of royal sympathy sidestepped the rigid protocol of state functions, and kept representatives of the worlds political establishment waiting on their feet for more than half an hour. Each bereaved relative received a word, a gesture and a sympathetic ear from each Spanish royal.

The contrast between the smooth elegance of the dignitaries and the rough faces and crushed demeanour of the families could not have been starker. These were working class Madrilenos, some in Sunday best, others in lumpy bomber jackets or fleeces, all wretched with grief. Some wept and clutched one another.

Others seemed dazed to the point of catatonia. One woman stood rigid in the aisle holding a small photograph of her son. Only Spains royals reached across the high ceremony to touch a human chord. Otherwise, the thousands of rosy flickering candles at Atocha and other stations offered warmer consolation to a nation still grieving.

- INDEPENDENT