It was like
the chivalrous gatherings of ancient days, when each town and village sent
its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend the capital or grace its
festivities.
At length, all these various detachments congregated into one grand
pageant, which slowly paraded round the Vivarambla, and through the
principal streets, where every window and balcony was hung with tapestry.
In this procession were all the religious orders, the civil and military
authorities, and the chief people of the parishes and villages; every
church and convent had contributed its banners, its images, its relics, and
poured forth its wealth for the occasion. In the center of the procession
walked the archbishop, under a damask canopy, and surrounded by inferior
dignitaries and their dependents. The whole moved to the swell and cadence
of numerous bands of music, and, passing through the midst of a countless
yet silent multitude, proceeded onward to the cathedral.
I could not but be struck with the changes of times and customs, as I saw
this monkish pageant passing through the Vivarambla, the ancient seat of
Moslem pomp and chivalry.
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