Sacred Heart

Madrid Catholics celebrated the Feast of the Sacred Heart last week and Madrid Republicans did not like it. All over the city white banners stamped with the sacred heart hung from windows and balconies. All over the streets gangs of breathless young men in rope-soled shoes tore through the streets cutting up the banners wherever they saw them.

It was greatly to the credit of the Government of roly poly Manuel Ozana, just restored to power on the issue of Spain's new church laws, for anti-church sentiment to be as marked as possible. After noon when the enthusiasm of the young cutups began to wane, Republican police were suddenly ordered out to take down all Sacred Heart banners "to avert further rioting." Only one defender of the faith was discovered. As a shouting crowd swept along the Gran Via. a man suddenly arose from a cafe table crying "Viva Cristo Key! Long Live Christ the King!'' They made for him, but he fought them off with powerful squirts from a pale blue soda siphon. They wrecked the restaurant instead.

Next day, with his hat over his eyes, a young Spanish Republican swaggered down Madrid's Broadway, the noisy Calle de Alcala. Before the 17th Century Calatravas Church, he stopped. Its soft slate fac,ade was a mass of scrawled inscriptions and caricatures. One he had never noticed before, a silhouet of a man with a large hooked nose and protruding jaw.

''Alfonso XIII!'" he cried, and spat.

Other loafers came running, gaped, pointed, shouted, and threatened to burn the church down. Police were called, then Republican Guards and the Fire Department before the riot ended and the church was saved. Perspiring police explained that that scrawl had been on the church for 20 years, was not supposed to be King Alfonso at all but the greatest bullfighter of modern times, swarthy, limping Juan Vincente Belmonte, now retired.

Loudest mark of Spanish Republican disapproval came from Rome. One Demetrio Solamon, Egyptian-born and successively naturalized Greek and Spanish, took a train from Madrid to Rome, marched into St. Peter's last week with an old valise, checked it at the central gate, then wandered out into the bright sunlight of St. Peter's Square. Some time later a Fascist militia officer wandered idly about the swarthy man standing near the great obelisk with his fingers in his ears. Almost immediately there was a great dusty explosion. Demetrio Solamon began to run like a rabbit, threw his passport into one of the plashing fountains, dived through the Bernini colonnade. Little damage was done to St. Peter's, but four Holy Year Pilgrims were slightly injured by the bomb. In his private library, 150 yards away, Pope Pius peered over his gold-rimmed spectacles, remarked that the noonday gun seemed a little late, went on with his work. Saving his breath, the Fascist officer picked the passport out of the fountain. Demetrio Solamon was later arrested in his hotel.

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