Chapter VI - Cardinal Ratti is Elected Pope

News of Benedict's Death - At the Conclave - The New Pope's Problems - The Vatican and the War-Weary World - "Pax Christi in Regno Christi" - Pius XI's Fearless Policies - A Bird's Eye View of Modern Italy - Mussolini Becomes Dictator - Catholic Italy and the Fascist!

“Those who go abroad,” Cardinal Ratti said in his inaugural address to the Milanese populace to whom he had returned as their Archbishop, “see that the Pope is Italy’s greatest ornament. Because of him the millions of Catholics scattered over the world direct their view towards Rome as to their second homeland; because of him Rome is the capital of the world. Only by willfully closing one’s eyes can one fail to see how the various countries turn towards the Pope, the prestige and advantages that accrue to Rome from his presence, especially when account is taken of his being internationally and supernationally acknowledged by all Catholics as their sovereign by virtue of his divine authority.”

So spoke the new Prince of the Church, with assurance and authority. The press of Rome, always ready to pose as the defender of the State’s prerogatives, was quick to light upon the word “sovereign.” Alarm and disapproval were instantly expressed in political circles. Although the new Cardinal hastened to explain that he referred to spiritual authority, the “powerful speech” was not forgotten. They thought they detected a tone of new dignity and a hint of new power unsuspected in the quiet modest librarian.

Although Cardinal Ratti’s ministry in his diocese of Milan was of very short duration (five months), the imprint of his personality upon his flock was strongly felt, He proved himself their solicitous shepherd, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his new work with all his customary ardor. Not a day passed in which he did not visit hospitals, schools, clerical and lay institutions, prisons and houses of correction. Each Sunday he went to outlying districts, visiting numberless villages and parishes on his way. His sermons were known to number as many as six and eight a day. His spoken words became eloquent, his address facile and lucid.

Ever zealous to correct abuses and raise the tone of Catholic communities, Cardinal Ratti sent out a pastoral letter from the Lombard Episcopate, which, though it bore the signature of all the bishops of the province, must be attributed to his initiative. The public life of Catholics and the measures suggested to redeem shortcomings that had become a reproach to the Church were handled with consummate skill and had a beneficent effect upon the diocese. Although he made no change in the personnel of his ecclesiastical staff, nor in the Seminary, his personality was impressed upon all that he undertook to remedy. Evidences of social improvement were seen on every hand. The love and admiration of the Milanese for their Archbishop was expressed in their generous response to his appeals for funds to carry on his reforms.

While Cardinal Ratti was fulfilling his duties in the Milan diocese with distinction and promise of vast future good, Benedict XV, the War-Time Pope, whose endeavors to call a mad world back to sanity and peace had proven as futile as they were heroic, passed on to his Maker. The Italian press and indeed the press of all the world outdid itself in eulogies. The anti-Papal Tribuna wrote: “Disregarding in his own mind the military and political significance of the war, he endeavored to alleviate its effects in the vast fields of desolation. . . . Under his direction the diplomacy of peace and charity towards distant and even enemy nations” was indiscriminately exercised.

Guglielmo Ferrero, the well-known historian, declared that Benedict’s spiritual authority was in no way lessened by his failure to stop the war and to bring peace to humanity.

Neither the wealth of America, nor the Navy of England, nor yet the French Army, nor the promptings of the experts, nor the ruses of diplomats, nor the desire of the people, nor the declarations of the press, nor gold and the confidence of bankers, nor parliamentary sessions, nor the concerted powers, nor the dictatorial craze of the Socialists, have had greater efficacy than the encyclicals of Benedict XV. The spoken word seems to have lost its time-honored power over the minds of men; but this very powerlessness has afflicted the weapons, the wealth, the scientific inventions and the sources of power upon which the modern world puts more stress than on the written or spoken word.

This universal powerlessness is the real terror of our day. It is true that the late Pope who, despite his Christian zeal? and the immense authority with which he was invested, although he was successful in alleviating some of the great sufferings of the war, has done little to help restore peace to the stricken world. But then the other potentates could do nothing better.

And yet the bitterest opponents of Papal authority were the first to chide and deride its impotency!

At Milan an imposing ceremony attended by vast throngs of the people and by political and military representatives, was addressed by their Archbishop,, who took for his text the appropriate scriptural words: Erat lucerna lucens et ardens in caliginoso loco. Speaking in the hushed and moving accents of a stricken son for a loving father, Cardinal Ratti drew a picture of the deceased Pontiff as the unceasing promoter of peace and the magnanimous benefactor of war-ridden nations.

All the world turned instinctively toward Benedict XV to obtain his worthy intervention and have him cooperate with them in pacifying those countries that were at war. Tired as they were of seeing brute force reign supreme, they seemed to be urged towards those lofty and matchless values which they had until then disregarded.

Cardinal Ratti begged all present to join him in prayer and supplication to God that He might give the Church a worthy successor. The evening of the same day, accompanied by his secretary, Don Carlo Gonfalonieri, the Milanese Archbishop left for Rome to attend the conclave. When he bade farewell to the citizens’ committee at the station, the tears streamed down his cheeks as he gave them his affectionate blessing.

The hospitality of the Lombard Seminary at Via de Mascherone 58, was extended to him during the days preceding the conclave. Here he must have relived his old student days of forty-two years ago. For the Cardinal, Archbishop Ratti, had reached the age of sixty-five when he was called to attend the conclave which was to elect a new Pontiff over the Church’s 400,000,000 souls.

In a letter dated January 28th? he sent to the President of the diocesan board of Milan, Awocato Luigi Colombo, these words: “Pray and have others pray for our Holy Mother, the Church, and also for me. I cannot express the feeling with which my participation in the coming election inspires me.” Was the tremendous responsibility imposed upon himself as one of the electors weighing heavily upon his spirit, or did he have a premonition of his own august destiny?

Cardinal Mercier has left us a description of the emotions that filled his own breast as he entered into conclave on the afternoon of February 2nd, the Day of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin, under whose heavenly protection the cardinals assembled.

We felt that we were under the close protection of the Holy Mother whose image, standing at a few meters’ distance from the Sistine Chapel, seemed to watch over the work of the Conclave. A little lamp burnt day and night before the image of the Madonna of Good Counsel. She guided the feet of all those who, that same evening between eight and ten o’clock, came to offer before the Christ of the Tabernacle and to His Mother their final greetings.

Votes began to be cast on the following morning (the 3rd) and the scrutinies were taken until the first day of die next week (the 6th).

Although Leo XIII’s Praedecessoris Nostri had enjoined absolute secrecy upon conclave proceedings, we have seen how Franz Josef influenced the election of Pius X, (in spite of the Cardinal Dean’s warning that no heed be given to the communication) and how it was injected into the solemn assembly of cardinals. Since that interference by a lay power, the Pope (Pius X) whose election resulted from the scandalous occurrence, laid down the most stringent rules for future conclaves, imposing the strictest discipline. In Pius X’s Constitutions, Vacante Sede Apostolica and Commissum Nobis, provisions were imposed for inviolable secrecy. The election of Benedict XV and the election we are considering were conducted under the scrupulous observance of these rules.

It is well to consider the motives that prompted the cardinals to vote as they did in the last Papal election. Fourteen scrutinies, or ballots, were taken before a two-thirds vote was reached. The personal free judgment of each cardinal was bound to determine his vote, although he had been enjoined by the Cardinal Dean to choose a man fitted to assume the staggering task of worthily representing the Church through the storm and stress of times that called for the wisest and holiest leadership. Almost all the nations, weary with the terrible ennui of spiritual desolation after the devastating conflict and the disillusion of the disastrous “peace” had eagerly desired the friendship of the Holy See. Under Benedict they had been sending diplomatic representatives to the Vatican Court. Men’s minds seemed to be turning again in the direction of a supreme authority. They seemed to feel instinctively the need of a spiritual anchor. The Vatican was once again the pole-star of the nations. Embassies had been established by several South American countries – notably Brazil, Chile and Peru. Inter-nunciatures were created between the Holv See and Colombia, the Argentine, Uruguay and Venezuela. In Europe Hungary, Czecho-Slovakia, Jugo-Slavia and Rumania were sending representatives to Rome, in addition to those countries which had not withdrawn their legations during the war. Greece, Finland, Esthonia, the Ukraine and Lithuania were negotiating for concordats with the Vatican. Poland’s relation with Rome we know was most cordial. Holland and Portugal sent missions. Even England, the four-century-old antagonist of the Vatican, sent a mission to Benedict as far back as 1914, which she still maintains. France resumed her relations with the Holy See.

In Italy a decided improvement in the relationship between the Vatican and the government had been gradually effected. The refusal of the Vatican to listen to the offer of foreign arms to realize her ardent hope for a restoration of her ancient prerogatives, given as a sop by Germany, the hands-off policy of Benedict when Italy irrevocably entered the conflict, had created a favorable impression, even though Mussolini could not forgive Benedict’s characterization of the war as “useless slaughter.” The defeat at Caporetto was, in the future Duce’s eyes, the direct and inevitable result of the Pope’s words.

Yet, before he came into power, Mussolini had called the Papacy “the only universal idea” in the world and in words that admit of no ambiguous interpretation he characterized the Church’s prestige as unique.

I hereby maintain that the Latin and Imperial tradition of Rome is upheld and kept alive by the torch of Catholicism. If what Mommsen said some twenty-five years ago be true today; to-wit, that at Rome we inherit nothing but a universal idea, then I believe and affirm that the only universal idea which exists at Rome is that which emanates from the Vatican.

Whenever I notice the establishment of a national church I am greatly disappointed; for then I feel that millions of men cease to look in the direction of Italy and Rome. For the spread of Catholicism throughout the world, the increase of four hundred million souls whose vision is riveted to Rome from all parts of the earth, has an interest and a glamour on which we Italians ought to pride ourselves.

In general, at Benedict’s death, all things augured a saner and happier understanding between the nations of the world and the Holy See, Taken in relation with the war-time attitude, there was everywhere evidence of a vast change in the temper and trend of international politics.

When we consider all these factors, it seems in retrospect only natural that the cardinals in conclave should have selected as Benedict’s successor the man who best exemplified the qualities and virtues that the anxious and propitious times demanded.

“There is a wide-spread opinion among intelligent men that he who will assume the government of the Catholic Church,” said the Cardinal Dean to the assembled conclave, “should follow no other path than that blazed by Benedict XV to the glory of Apostolic authority,” and he prayed that he who would ascend the throne of Saint Peter should “be possessed of a benign, affectionate and long-suffering charity.”

The necessary number of votes did not come until the fourth day after the cardinals entered into conclave. On February 6th, at eleven o’clock in the morning, the fourteenth scrutiny revealed that Cardinal Ratti was the choice of the necessary two-thirds majority.

Stated baldly, the election of a Pope seems a very democratic procedure. Yet the solemnity of the occasion surrounded with the pomp and ancient tradition of centuries of usage renders the scene like nothing else on earth. The sense of tremendous responsibility, the formality of voting, the use of the ancient universal Latin tongue by all the cardinals in conclave, the realization of the impending burden that will rest so heavily upon human shoulders when, as the successor of Saint Peter, the new Vicar of Christ shall assume the governance of the Catholic world, the awe-inspiring hush when the Cardinal Dean announces the new Pontiff, fill the Sistine Chapel with swirls of emotional intensity and expectancy.

But let Cardinal Mercier tell the story of the election of Pius XI in his own inimitable manner.

What a spell of deep suspense was that of the election! Alone on his bench, sitting upright, with his head bent down, Cardinal Ratti suddenly gathers himself together. The other cardinals leave their seats and form in threes, in four concentric circles around the elected one. Their deacon lifts up his voice and pronounces, in the name of Christ, the formula: ‘”Dost thou accept the election which designates thee canonically to the Supreme Pontificate?” A silence of humility, awe, faith and confidence, as we had expected, holds us in suspense during two long, very long minutes. Slowly his reply comes in Latin couched in practically the following terms: “That I may not seem to disobey the Divine Will; that I may not appear to be shirking the burden which should fall upon my shoulders; that it may not be said that I have not set a proper value on the wishes of my colleagues; and in spite of my unworthiness which I deeply feel, I accept!”

“Quo modo vis vocari?” (By what name wouldst thou be called?) His voice was completely overcome by emotion. “It was under the Pontificate of Pius IX that I was made a member of the Catholic Church and started my ecclesiastical career. Pius X summoned me to Rome. Pius is a name of Peace. As I desire to devote my efforts to the peace of the world, a task of which my predecessor Benedict XV, acquitted himself so creditably, I choose the name of Pius.” After a pause he resumed: “I also desire to add another word. I pledge myself before the members of the Sacred College to safeguard and defend all the prerogatives of the Holy See; but it is also my wish that my first benediction shall be, not only for Rome and Italy, but for the whole Church and the entire world. I shall give it from the exterior balcony of Saint Peter’s.”

“It would seem,” adds the Belgian Cardinal, Mercier, “that the decision concerning the benediction from the outer balcony emanates from the Pope himself.”

Outside in the Piazza del Vaticano the vast throng which had patiently waited for three days for the thin wisp of smoke to rise from the chimney on the roof of the Sistine Chapel, was swollen this Monday forenoon to enormous proportions, so that the Royal Guards had their hands full trying to keep them from stampeding the steps of Saint Peter’s. At 11:35 a thin film of white smoke arose from the chimney. It was a mere wraith, so intangible that it was not certain they had seen aright, or if their imaginations were betraying them. But no! the windows of the Loggia of the Basilica are thrown open and the famous Papal tapestry is spread upon the balustrade. Cardinal Bisleti soon appears accompanied by other dignitaries of the Papal Court. A deep hush comes over the vast crowd below. The splash of the lovely fountains and the cooing of a dove are distinctly heard. Then the voice of Bisleti, the head of the Order of Deacons, announces the ancient ritual.

“Annuncio vobis gaudium magnum. Habemus Papam, eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum Achilkm Ratti . . .”

The voice is drowned by the wild shouts of the multitude below. Handkerchiefs are frantically waved. Hats are thrown into the air. After a few minutes the Cardinal concludes his announcement:

“. . . qui sibi nomcn imposuit Pius Undecimus.”

Cries of “Viva il Papa! Long live Pius XI! Long live Italy!” are heard amid the general rejoicing. The crowd begins to move toward the Basilica, but the tapestry is still on the balustrade of the Loggia. What is about to happen? The crowd hesitates. They wait, expectant, gazing upwards. Of a sudden the new Pope, Achille Ratti, Pius XI, appears on the Loggia and raises his right arm. He is blessing the Italians on Italian soil! Cries of “It is the Pope! It is the Pope!” resound on every side. Astonishment and a frenzy of emotion overcome the crowd as the troops, the Alpini, the Bersaglieri, the handsome soldiers of Italy, present arms to the Italian Pope, the first Pontiff since 1870 to present himself directly to the people of Italy.

This significant gesture was the first public act of Pius XI What did it presage? Up above there he stands, blessing the throng of thousands upon thousands with the slow weaving movement of the hand, blessing them as they fall on their knees on the hard cobblestones. Tears stream down the cheeks of the patriotic religious Italians. The whole crowd arises as with a single impulse and cheers and shouts: “Viva Pio Undecimo! Viva la sedia di San Pietro! Viva l’Italia!” they cry at the top of their voices.

Even one who has witnessed such a scene more than once cannot do justice to the wild infectious enthusiasm of Italians for their Pontiff.

Soon the giant bells of Saint Peter’s peal out their brazen clangor to be answered as in echo by all the bells of Rome. The air seems vibrant with the orchestration of the joyous bells!

Pius XI’s comportment upon his elevation to the Papal throne hinted from the outset an energetic reign. His carriage was easy, erect and confident. He spoke as one having authority. A new spirit of alertness and awareness permeated Vatican circles. His manner indicated that he was his own master. It was as if a strong wind from the Alps had blown through the ancient musty halls, cleansing and invigorating them.

During the first week of his pontificate he gave a reception to the Diplomatic Corps accredited to the Vatican. Replying in French to their congratulatory speeches, he assured them that he would continue his predecessor’s policy for ensuring world peace. Although they would have welcomed a statement concerning the Roman Question, he refrained from committing himself, keeping his thoughts prudently hidden beyond the realm of controversy.

Because of the impossibility of the North American cardinals arriving in time to enter into conclave, one of Pius XI’s first official acts was to issue a motu proprio, extending the period permitted the cardinals for their journey to Rome from ten to fifteen, or at the utmost, to eighteen days. The new Pontiff retained Cardinal Gasparri as Secretary of State and made no changes in the personnel of the Pontifical Court. Father Ehrle, the Bavarian Jesuit, was reinstated in the Vatican Library, and later rewarded with the Red Hat.

All eyes were turned toward Rome and a curious world speculated about the new Pope’s policy. Yet, despite the indications that a new regime was about to be inaugurated, it was almost a year before the appearance of Pius’ first encyclical It was felt that Italy and the Vatican were drawing into closer accord, that the Pope was in reality no longer a prisoner of the Vatican. Rumors were rife that within a short time Pius would appear upon Italian soil-on the very streets of Rome. Reconciliation was in the atmosphere and everyone felt that the new Pontiff would effect a peaceful settlement of the old controversy.

Not only loyal Italians, but many non-Catholic foreigners recognized the need for an impartial tribunal before which all nations might bring their grievances. Disappointed in the futile peacemaking insincerities of Versailles and all the numerous conferences, convinced that no good thing could come out of Geneva, men became intrigued with the old idea of Papal Universality – even men as pro-Protestant as Austen Chamberlain and as radical as H. G. Wells, toyed with the idea. The Roman Question consequently became more than a Catholic issue. It was fraught with the most far-reaching potentialities for peace in a world diseased and torn by war, famine, revolution and economic distress. More and more the Law of Guarantees seemed no solution. It became evident that the Pope, to be the real head of Catholicism, must be freed from all national restrictions. Not an Italian Pope, but a universal Pope, a Pope to whom all mankind might look as the representative of 400,000,000 souls, with whom all nations might maintain relations, was the demand of the times. Pius XI must have been aware of this universal change of attitude toward the Holy See.

But it had ever been Achille Ratti’s habit to make haste slowly. No one was more aware than the new Pope himself that any false move might destroy all hope of future settlement. He knew that undue insistence was fatal to the consummation of his plans. With characteristic caution he walked confidently in the calm assurance that in God’s good time the prize would fall into his hand.

The assumption of the Papal tiara had imposed upon the new Pontiff problems of tremendous responsibility. All his gifts of tact and vision were required to meet the challenge of the times. The wisest statesmanship, the utmost caution, the severest patience and disciplined courage were demanded of the Holy Father. The aftermath of the War had brought an economic crisis in Europe that played into the hands of the extremists. The War, said the Socialists, had been brought on against their will. Their numbers increased all over the new map, in spite of the fact that by and large they had, with a few conspicuous exceptions in every nation Liebknecht and Luxemburg in Germany, Jaures in France, Lord Morley and Ramsay MacDonald in England, Debs and John Haynes Holmes in the United States and a few others – all forgotten their international principles and allied themselves wholeheartedly with their several nations.

Because they shouted the loudest, and were familiar with the technique of organization, they triumphed over the inarticulate masses who were responsive to their blandishments, forgetting their recent bitter betrayal in their hour of need. In Russia the Bolsheviks had seized power and an orgy of violence against the Church, and the blood bath of the newly dispossessed drowned the voices of the victims of an oppression that even today is not fully appraised and is, indeed, too often condoned by apologists.

Pius XI was eager and ready to enter into communication with all whom he could influence, without, of course, compromising his own position as head of the Catholic Church. A month after his election, Senator de Page, in a silence of respectful attention, read before the General Council of the League of Red Cross Societies at Geneva, Cardinal Gaspani’s letter of congratulation, promising Papal support.

The Holy Father is glad to express his ardent personal desire for the success of the labors included in the program of this assembly. Faithful to the cause of universal peace, adopted by his Predecessor of happy memory, his Holiness cannot but rejoice at the generous and humane sentiments which have inspired the creation of the second great organization of national Red Cross Societies. . . . The societies, fully aware of the peace-making office which their traditions invite them to fulfill, have desired to profit by their common ideal to draw nearer together, and to work in common to strengthen the bonds of brotherhood and solidarity between the nations. An effort so generous and so universally praised has been welcomed by no one more than by the Supreme Pontiff.

The General Council responded by thanking the Holy Father and assuring him they would do all within their power to satisfy the needs of the times.

During Benedict’s pontificate, there had followed in rapid succession the numerous conferences of Paris, Washington, San Remo, Cannes, Spa? by the victorious Allied Powers in a vain attempt to bring about the realization of their mutual and separate interests. Finally, it was agreed among them that representatives of all the nations, including Russia and Germany, should be invited to a general conference at Genoa. Many vain hopes and much wishful thinking were pinned to this general conference, in spite of the fact that the preliminary condition of the meeting was the prohibition of any discussion whatsoever of the iniquitous treaties already concluded.

The new Pope was eager to make his influence felt at Genoa. He thanked the Archbishop of Genoa for the prayers he had prescribed for the forthcoming conference and wrote:

If Christian charity ought to reign even amid the clash of arms, in the words of the beautiful Red Cross motto, Inter arma caritas, much more should it be so when arms have been laid aside and treaties of peace signed, since international hatred, the unhappy heritage of war, does wrong even to the conquering nations, and lays up a sad future for all. We must not forget that the best guarantee of peace is not a forest of bayonets, but mutual confidence and friendship. Moreover, though it has been determined to exclude all discussion, not only of the treaties that have been concluded, but also the reparations imposed, from the scope of the conference, there is no reason to exclude exchanges of opinion which may make the rapid fulfillment of their obligations easier for the conquered, for in the long run this will turn to the advantage of the victors.

Signer Facta, President of the Conference, referred to the Pope’s wise words in his opening address.

Under the aegis of the principles of equity, justice, and solidarity between the nations, this conference opens this conference to which the Supreme Pontiff, in the fulfillment of his high mission of love and peace, has addressed august words inspired by a like feeling to all nations, words which are a happy earnest of concord.

Alas! The good seed fell on rocky ground. The conference at Genoa terminated as all the others had ended. No move toward real peace was yet made.

It must have been a relief to his wounded spirit for Pius to turn his attention to preparations for the forth-coming Eucharistic Congress in Rome.

The International Eucharistic Congresses have all been marked with signal success as one who witnessed the proceedings and attended most of the gatherings at Saint Mary’s by the Lake in Mundelein and the vast Stadium of Chicago, can bear testimony, and who marvelled at the genuine religious fervor of the vast multitudes of believers, and at the missionary activities of the Church, as revealed by the exhibits from all parts of the world at Municipal Pier. Yet, it is said that none of them can compare with that held at Rome in the spring of 1922. It opened in the Court of the Belvedere at the Vatican. Two hundred bishops from every country in Christendom and all the cardinals, who had remained in Rome after the conclave, attended the opening ceremony. The Pope spoke in reply to the opening address of Cardinal Vannutelli. Reflecting no doubt upon the long list of futile conferences, he said with heartfelt earnestness:

It is the avid, not to say, exclusive, quest for earthly goods alone which has embittered men’s hearts and aroused mutual hatred. Thus it is that mankind has forsaken Our Lord, thus it is that mankind has lost peace. This Jesus you have invited, and He has heard your call. You have come together from all parts of the world, and He has come to meet you. He breaks the silence of the tabernacle. He reappears amongst men, and peace begins to reign anew, true peace, not a mere image, but the living reality of that peace which the world cannot give, but which, thank God, can no more be taken from you.

On the following Sunday the procession passed through the streets of Rome. A flight of pigeons announced the signal of the triumphal march from Saint John Lateran to Santa Maria Maggiore and the Coliseum, returning again to the Lateran. The cortege was composed of twenty-two cardinals in their red robes, bishops, prelates, seminaries, confraternities, groups of religious orders, Catholic Youth groups, Boy Scouts and men’s fraternities, followed by an immense crowd of the Faithful and the curious, caught by the inspiring pageant and the religious enthusiasm. Many tourists and strangers in Rome were so impressed they felt a new era was being ushered in. It is said that one prominent Jewish observer was so moved by the solemn joyous spectacle, that he declared:

It is the greatest event since the war. It is the beginning of a new epoch. At all the nationalistic conferences we felt that we were among the ephemeral . . . that buildings were being raised on sand. . . . Here was the impression of a work of such scope … its foundations reaching into the remote past … its future secure and eternal. Catholicism has resumed all its power and is today the real master of the world. It alone offers some solid, organic and concrete hope to the confused and disquieted desires of mankind thrown into tumult by the War. The Church today is more powerful than she has ever been. We have the direct feeling that the Pope … is above states, sovereigns, fatherlands … in a kind of spiritual effulgence and that all hatred even has at last faded in his presence.

Great astonishment and wonder was aroused among the Romans when on a day in April, Albert, King of the Belgians with his Queen and the Crown Prince, arrived at the station and were met by the King of Italy attended by military and civil authorities. Stopping only to pay their respects to the Queen at the Quirinal, they proceeded to the Vatican from the Belgian Embassy where five motor cars, flying the Papal flag, met them and carried them to the Supreme Pontiff, Pius XI. This extraordinary event was the first intimation of the actual putting into effect of the veto of Pius IX’s prohibition preventing Catholic sovereigns from visiting the King of Italy, a veto pronounced by Benedict XV for the furtherance of peace in his Encyclical, Pacem, issued in 1920.

This was only the beginning of a series of visits from sovereigns of states to the King of Italy, for in the autumn the Spanish royal family were received in public audience before the Sacred College and the highest ecclesiastics in the Hall of the Consistory with a ceremony recalling the days of ancient splendor. Later King George V of England and Queen Mary came to Rome to kiss the Fisherman’s ring and to receive the Papal benediction. What did these things portend?

The first year of Pius’ pontificate was indeed a trying one. More and more he found himself drawn into European politics. Benedict had been accused of pro-German affiliations; and now, because of his espousal of the cause of the peoples in the occupied area, Pius XI was about to be made the target of French criticism. Both France and Germany were putting their cases before the Holy See; for Pius had appointed Monsignor Testa as his envoy to follow events in the Ruhr. But His Holiness did not evade the issue. He said:

I deplore that people of an ancient civilization should exhaust themselves for the moment with still greater potential damage for the whole of Europe and the human race.

Regarding the reparations deadlock, the new Pope declared:

When the debtor gives proof of his sincere desire to arrive at a fair and definite agreement, invoking an impartial judgment on the limits of his capacity to pay, justice and social charity, as well as the personal interests of the creditors, demand that he should not be forced to pay more than he can without entirely exhausting his resources of productivity. Equally, though it be just that the creditors shall have guarantees in accordance with the amount of their debts, we put it to them to consider whether it be necessary to maintain territorial occupation which imposes severe sacrifices on the occupying nation and occupied territories alike, or whether it would not be better to substitute, though gradually, other more suitable and certainly less odious guarantees. . . . Were these peaceful criteria admitted by both sides, the bitterness engendered by the occupation would cease with the final abandonment of the occupation itself, and it would then be possible to reach a really peaceful condition of affairs at which no sacrifice should be considered too great.

Had these wise words been heeded in time, what a different picture of Europe we should have today!

The Papal letter was eagerly seized upon by Germany and flourished before the public as offering the only sane solution to the knotty problem that was plaguing the entire world. France, on the other hand, was obdurate and strongly nationalistic in her demand for a pound of flesh. “Revanche” for the indignities of 1870 still seared the national spirit. England, at the time, was particularly impatient at her former ally’s stubborn intransigence. To the entire world France presented an intractable egotism. If it is true, as someone has said, that Hitler was born at Versailles, it is equally true that he was reared and nurtured during the days of France’s uncompromising, refractory attitude.

In Pius’ mission for the peace of Europe and the world, no country received more careful study than Russia. Conditions there were tragic for the peasants, the economic distress of the cities was extreme, famine ravaged the land, the kulaks were forced to surrender to the local commissars the produce of their farms for Moscow, long queues of women stood all day for a scanty ration of black bread, religion was a crime punishable by imprisonment and death and indiscriminately labelled “the opiate of the people” priests and religious were hounded and persecuted by the new saviors of humanity.

At the ill-starred Genoa Conference the Pope submitted for discussion a memorandum regarding Russia that should guarantee full liberty of conscience for all citizens and foreigners, the exercise of public and private worship to be restored and respected, the property of all religious bodies to be restored. Of course the conference closed without coming to any agreement on these vital matters. Nevertheless, the failure of Pius’ attempts to ensure religious freedom to the people of the U.S.S.R. did not prevent him from sending a commission to Russia under Father Edmund A. Walsh, S.J., for the relief of the distressed inhabitants, and the Holy Father himself intervened in behalf of Catholic priests, for the second time saving the lives of many imprisoned clerics.

With a magnanimity worthy of his high station, Pius commanded the mission to proceed with its work of alleviating suffering. Over one hundred and sixty thousand children were saved in their own land at this time by the Pontifical mission which was composed of eleven persons: three Jesuits, two Salesians and six laymen. To the amount of two and a half million lire the Supreme Pontiff of Catholicism contributed to the donation collected by the bishops of the Catholic world an amount most generous considering the depleted finances of the Vatican at that time.

Great Britain’s mandate over Palestine, giving to the Zionists a privileged position over all other religious groups, caused Pius XI grave concern. All claims of the various religious bodies in Palestine were, under Article 14 of the Balfour project, placed under the control of a special commission of which Sir Herbert Samuel was the Lord High Commissioner. The Holy Father challenged the right of this commission to dispose of Catholic sanctuaries which had for centuries, even under Turkish rule, been the unquestioned concern of the Catholic Church. In a Papal memorandum it was proposed that the commission be made up of the consuls in the Holy Land of those Powers forming the Council of the League of Nations.

The outcome of the Pope’s refusal to acknowledge the Balfour commission was a visit to His Holiness by Sir Herbert in July, 1922.

Many debates in the Houses of Lords and Commons and in the League of Nations culminated in a new Article 14, which stated that

A special commission shall be nominated by the Mandatory Powers to study and define the rights and claims of the various religious communities in Palestine. The mode of nomination, the composition and duties of this Commission shall be submitted for approval to the Council of the League, and the Commission shall not enter upon its functions without the Council’s approval.

Although Pius still maintained that the holy places ought to have extra-territorial and extra-national supervision, yet it was a partial triumph for die Holy See that the responsibility for the protection of the holy places should be placed in the hands of the League.

Concerning Italy herself the gravest alarm was felt by the new Pope. In the universal upheaval after the War and the economic distress that followed, the populace was dividing into class factions, and there arose a veritable civil war. Daily acts of violence became the mood of the parties. Extreme Socialism of the Moscow brand was daily gaining adherents. Factories were seized by the workers. Great Britain threatened a blockade of coal without which nothing could function. The government wavered between the demands of those who seemed bent on reproducing all the blessings of Bolshevism and those who sought to salvage what they could of the inherited order. The Pope, watching this sad state of affairs, wrote to his Italian bishops, begging them to take up the cause of peace. One of his letters appeared on 28 October 1922, the very day of the march on Rome, a coup carried out by the section of the Socialist Party that had aided and abetted the entrance of their country into the World War.

In a few weeks after this history-making event, Pius issued his first long-awaited Encyclical, Ubi arcano Dei, announced ten days before its appearance by an Allocution which outlined its thesis, Pax Christi in regno Christi.

Because the world has determined to do without God it is in chaos, and peace has not yet come. After the terrors of the War, hate still remains, the presage of further wars between the nations; and hence class hatred, hence the misery and famine that are desolating a great part of the civilized world. Like the Jews of old, mankind has said: “Nolumus hunc regnare super nos” and it is paying the penalty. There is but one remedy for these disasters – Let us begin Christ’s reign in the world, and the world will have peace.

To achieve this consummation the vigilant and zealous activity of the clergy was essential, he wrote, Catholic activity of the press, the education of the young, resistance to doctrinal disorders of the day, the unity of the Church and the bringing back into the fold of her separated children so that Christ’s prayer Et fiet unum ovile et unus Pastor (And there will be one flock and one Shepherd) might be answered. Signs of such unity seemed to be evident, he believed, when so many governments were seeking to enter into friendly relations with the Holy See in their ardent desire for peace on this earth, of which, alas! Italy was not one.

Italy, our own beloved Italy, does not figure among these nations – Italy, chosen by God to possess the throne of His Vicar on earth; Italy, whose capital, once queen of an empire which, vast though it was, was bounded by definite limits, was destined to become the capital of the whole world as the seat of that divine princedom which, by its very nature overstepping the confines of the nations, embraces all the peoples of the world. The origin and divine nature of this power and the sacred rights of the communities of the faithful scattered over the whole world demand that such a power shall be independent of all human authority and that its independence shall be manifest to all. Italy moreover will never have aught to fear from the Holy See, for the Roman Pontiff, whoever he be, can be actuated only by a desire for peace.

Ubi arcano Dei ends with the fervent prayer that through the co-operation of all men of good will these ends shall come to pass.

Giornale d’ltalia gave a very favorable comment on the Pope’s first Encyclical.

Outside all party strife, far removed from that wearisome toil which wears men’s minds in a perpetual destruction and resurrection, the accents of the Papal encyclical sound serene and calm, and we, who are oppressed by daily necessity and immersed in political passion give ear to the remote appeal and bend our foreheads in silence.

Because he was convinced that ignorance plays so large a role in creating the ever-widening gap between mankind and God, Pius encouraged the founding of Catholic universities and watched over their development with ceaseless care. Because God had been driven from the schools of higher learning, the break-down of the moral order was everywhere resulting in crime and disorder. A Catholic university, Pius declared, is a “demonstration of that faith which raises knowledge to the heights, the faith which enlightens science” and it “prepares enlightened leaders for Catholic activity, without whom the organized masses would be a useless force.”

To understand Fascist Italy we must try without prejudice justly to appraise the various influences at work leading up to the acquisition and tenure of power by the leader of the Fascisti, Premier Mussolini. For, as in the olden days it was the proud boast of patriotic Romans to repeat the literal truth that “all roads lead to Rome,” so in our own day it is still true that no one can lay claim to true culture who is unacquainted with the wealth of her glorious past or is untouched by the rich heritage of her immortal spirit. Despite portentous changes in her political outlook, reflected in her national spirit, Italy remains today that gracious land, the paradise of poets and painters, the dream of romanticists, the promised land and ultimate goal of Catholic pilgrimage. Because of her persistent universal appeal, the fate of Italy is the concern of all who reverence the genius of her spirit, who value her unique contribution to human civilization, who feel a profound sense of gratitude for the lavish gifts she bestows so magnanimously upon her spiritual children of all lands.

Since it serves no useful purpose to blind our vision, ostrich-wise, in wish fulfillment, let us frankly examine the causes of the phenomenon that puzzles many honest minds of all shades of social opinion and infuriates the extremists among the organized masses and the Communists of all lands with a hatred black as death.

It will be necessary to look behind existing phenomena, to approach the problem with that impartial scientific aloofness that is the despair of the irrational propagandist. For even his fiercest opponents acknowledge that, after the lapse of fifteen years of prophecy indulged in by the Liberals and Socialists of the world, Il Duce continues in power with no visible signs of abatement of his prestige among the vast mass of the Italian people themselves. However much our own press and the press of English-speaking countries generally resent the assumption of what they conceive as a Caesardom firmly established in Europe and threatening to spread from country to country, it is the part of wisdom, surely, to introduce a little reality into the picture and to attempt to diagnose the symptoms that have created a situation which they regard as a social disease.

Taking into account the sunny climate of the Peninsula and the Catholic tradition of her people, their natural aversion and religious antipathy to the class struggle as enunciated by the Communist disciples of Karl Marx, one has yet to penetrate further into the historical factors which make the present set-up possible and even relatively satisfactory to the population by and large. That there are dissident elements in Italy that have never become reconciled to the present regime no traveler with a shred of penetration can fail to recognize. But even among these elements, one soon discovers, there is a deep-seated dread of changing those evils that they have for those they know too well from the examples of Russia, Spain and Mexico. For even the casual observer soon perceives that Catholicism is too deeply rooted into the very fiber of the nation to surrender without a terrific struggle, not only on the part of the Church herself, but even by the least practicing of her wayward children.

“I could wish that Il Duce were immortal!” exclaimed an Italian officer of the King’s army to the author. Like so many of his colleagues he had suffered many personal affronts at the hands of ignorant self-seeking Black Shirt upstarts promoted above their betters in the army of King Victor Emmanuel. The constant friction and irritation between the two armies of Italy is evident to anyone who can read involuntary facial expressions. Yet, since this is not a perfect world, since one may not choose between an unalloyed good and an unmitigated evil, but is caught rather between two imperfect loyalties, the average soldier of the King, however much he may grumble at indignities that are galling to his proud spirit, prefers all the disabilities of a humiliating position to seeing his Italy engulfed in a flood of fratricidal blood. For the Italian, unlike his Latin brother, the Spaniard, remains, in spite of all attempts to militarize him, gentle and humane; and in his soul, however obedient to the call of national duty, antipathetic to violence. War is alien to the Italian. He loves the amenities of the social graces too well The adventures of a virile love-life, clean and unperverted, the quest of beauty and the delights of a cultural appreciation of the things of the spirit, cannot be destroyed by the business of modern warfare. His heroes in combat are never bloodthirsty war maniacs; but rather those individuals who, as individuals, risked all to make Italy immortal. The average Italian soldier would prefer to negotiate rather than to fight. He is ashamed of the dirt and muck of modern war. He has no illusions of militaristic glory. He loves to parade in his uniform, but it is because he knows he cuts a handsome figure. When Christianity abolished the gladiatorial combat in the arenas of Italy, nothing like the bull fight took its place.

It is because of this essentially childlike, or civilized, quality of his people, that Il Duce fumes and threatens. His attempt to wield a strong nation out of the war-torn and class-divided Italy he inherited from the hands of irreconcilable elements and a supine government, forced him to assume the mien and the overbearing gestures of a Caesar. He deliberately started out to harden the Italian character. All his glorification of war and of the military virtues were inculcated to overcome a certain gentle quality, that in spite of a virile manhood, had disqualified the sons of Italy from competing with the great powers and had kept her a third-rate nation. Feeling cheated out of their promised rights at the peace negotiations, Mussolini, with instinctive psychological insight, emphasized as Italian virtues those very qualities that are conspicuous by their absence in the Italian character. Better to be hated and feared, thought Il Duce, than to be ignored and snubbed! Thus it appears to the author, at least, that the Italian’s bark is infinitely worse than his bite.

With this psychological key to the Italian situation, let us try to unlock the portals of understanding and see if we can appreciate the seemingly paradoxical position of the Papacy toward the present regime. Perhaps we shall be able to fathom the reasons for the existence side by side of the most militaristically organized modern state, and the most splendidly organized force for peace in the world today.

At the outbreak of the War the Catholics of Italy were wholeheartedly in favor of her declaration of neutrality. They never associated themselves with the clamorers for war, either to gain the Allied promise of national advantage, or the bribe of foreign gold. Once Italy had entered, all discussion ceased and Catholics fought side by side with Socialists and anti-clericals.

When at last the evil days were at an end and the victorious Allied Powers met at Paris for peace negotiations, Italy was forgotten and left to pass through a critical period alone. The Spanish influenza carried off almost as many Italians as were lost in the War. The Socialists, profiting by the prevailing discontent, enticed into their ranks many city workers and peasants. Within a few months the country was torn between two governments – the nominal one, and the far more powerful one represented by the trade unions. The Catholics decided to form a political party of their own, similar to the German Center and the Catholic Party of Belgium. The Italian Popular Party was thus brought into being.

While not avowedly a Catholic Party, the Popular Party had at its head Don Luigi Sturzo, a priest. It was the political expression of Pius X’s Encyclical Il fermo proposito, and was an earnest attempt to save the social order. The first Congress at Bologna in 1919 numbered over nine hundred and fifty branches and had fifty-eight thousand members. At this Congress it was decided that in the approaching elections the Party should have its own candidates. The elections were held in the fall of 1919 and in order that all Catholics might vote, the Sacred Penitentiary declared that the provisions of the former non expedit of Pius IX were abrogated. The results were very favorable to the Catholics, for the Popular Party gained one hundred and three seats, although the Socialists had one hundred and thirty-five.

The Popular Party had within its ranks a Right and a Left Wing. The Right Wing demanded independence for the Holy See. The Left Wingers, on the other hand, seemed preoccupied with economic issues. In the hope of gaining adherents from the Socialist ranks, they were making use of the phraseology and methods of the Socialists. In their advocacy of the rights of the workers, some of their members adopted the same violent means that the extremists of the class struggle were demanding. Many priests from peasant and proletarian families came to identify themselves with the Left Wing. Thus a dangerous cleavage among the Catholics was threatening the cause of the Church under the name of Christian Socialism.

To combat this division, Benedict XV had issued a warning in 1920 to those Catholics working in the labor unions to avoid “Socialist intemperance of language,” declaring it was their duty to “carry on activities and propaganda thoroughly imbued with the Christian spirit,” for, said His Holiness, “it is not by violence and disorder that the cause of truth and justice is defended. The first to be smitten by such weapons are those who use them.”

As Socialism grew stronger and bolder in Italy because of Bolshevist propaganda and the inactivity of the government, strikes lasting for weeks and months sometimes for the most trivial causes that might have been settled amicably between the management and the workers had they been free to arbitrate created a serious stoppage of production, crippling industry and discrediting the country in the eyes of the outside world. Factories were seized by violence by the Russian-inspired Communists and signs appeared upon their doors, Fabrica Internationale socialista. The railroads were taken over by the workers and they refused to start before all men wearing the uniform were ejected. Machine guns in the streets of Florence, Milan and Turin bristled side by side with cannon ready for action. Red flags waved from public buildings, and walls were covered with signs reading Abasso il Re – Evviva Lenin! Little of the Christian influence of the program of the Popular Party was left in the delirium of undisciplined zealots. Things went from bad to worse, each succeeding ministry continued to bungle ineffectually. Production suffered from the incompetency of the management of the workers who found it simpler to seize than to run industry. Deprived of any real government, serious-minded Italians began to demand order even at the price of seizure of power.

The War had hardened the Fascist! for the task they undertook. In November of 1920 the Communal Council of Bologna was the scene of such violence on the part of the Socialists that Avvocato Giordani, who had lost a leg in the War, was assassinated; and another lawyer, Colliva, was seriously wounded. This aroused the Fascists to action and their numbers increased overnight until they included nearly the entire population of the city.

The Fascisti were originally all ex-service men who had been Socialists at the beginning of the War which they had heartily espoused, separating themselves from those in the party whom they characterized as Official Socialists. Benito Mussolini, the editor of Avanti, the Socialist newspaper of Milan, accepted (his enemies say for a price) the editorship of Popolo d’Italia. In his new organ he openly backed the cause of the Allies and was enthusiastic for Italy’s entry into the War. In his position as editor of Popolo d’Italia he sponsored many Socialist aims and was an ardent advocate of anti-clericalism. So intemperate were his editorials that the ecclesiastical authorities of Milan condemned him for blasphemy.

The post-war situation in Italy which we have briefly outlined, provided fertile ground for Mussolini and his followers. The impotency of the government, in the face of the revolution that the Socialists and the Communists were working to achieve, gave a strong leader of Mussolini’s calibre his opportunity. The “Official Socialists'” did all they could to discredit the part Italy had played in the War. The Fascisti hated the Popular Party no less than they despised the Official Socialists, due partly to their suspected alliance with them and to an inherited hatred of the clericals. Thus the Popular Party had a two-handed contest on its hands and it received no support from the government.

That the Fascists committed many unpardonable acts of violence in their avowed purpose of defending public order there is no gainsaying. Yet, in comparison with what had happened at the hands of Russian dictatorship and was later to characterize the seizure of power by the Nazis of Germany and to drown the Spanish people in fratricidal blood, the revolution of the Fascist dictatorship in Italy was brought into being with relatively little bloodshed.

Fascism meantime grew by leaps and bounds. The inertia of the government and the violence of the Socialists caused many Catholics to believe that it was the solution of the national dilemma. So when the King summoned Mussolini to Rome after the government had handed over power to the military and had declared a state of siege throughout Italy (which order the King refused to sign) most Italian Catholics gave their approval and declared they were satisfied. And when, after the march on Rome, Il Duce, whom the King approved over the heads of the ineffectual ministry, made his first public speech, Catholics felt relieved and secure. For in his inaugural address the new Premier and actual head of the government affirmed that “all religious beliefs will be respected, particularly the dominant creed, Catholicism” and ended with the solemn words: “May God help me to bring my arduous task to a successful conclusion!” Never, during the last half century, had such a prayer been uttered by the President of the Ministry!

The Catholics of Italy felt more than ever reassured when they saw how Mussolini went out of his way to conciliate them. The public funeral ceremony before the tomb of the Unknown Soldier took on a distinctly religious character. High Mass was celebrated in Santa Maria degli Angeli in the presence of the members of the new government and of the officials of the Quirinal attending the King. Their presence gave confidence to loyal Italians. The King’s portrait was placed in the public schools and the crucifix was again fastened to the walls of class rooms and hospital wards.

But the greatest triumph for the Catholics was the proclamation of the philosopher, Giovanni Gentile, whom Mussolini had made Minister of Public Instruction, that the children of Italy must be instructed in the Catholic religion. Although many, both within and without the ranks of the Fascist Party, were critical of the restoration of the cathechism, Gentile was not moved by their arguments but declared that “religion has a formative influence of the first importance on the minds of children and its value cannot be replaced by any other discipline.” In April of 1923, Gentile instituted a reform in regard to impartial examinations for public and private school pupils in the middle grades. By this legislation all pupils had to present themselves to the State Commission before examiners who had not taught them, and the diplomas conferred upon the successful candidates were credentials bearing full legal, judicial and professional authority.

Nothing delighted the Catholics more than Il Duce’s attitude toward Masonry. He demanded that Masons within the Fascist Party must choose between their allegiance to the party and to Masonry. This break with Masonry, as with an enemy, was a decided triumph for Catholics, for Masonry had been feared and cajoled by the various ministries since the formation of the Italian state in 1870. Since that time the Masons had practically controlled the Educational Ministry. A stormy session of the Fascist Grand Council, lasting three hours, was held on 13 February 1923. It ended with the declaration that “those Fascists who are Masons must choose between their allegiance to the National Fascist Party and to Masonry, since for Fascists there is but one discipline, the discipline of Fascism.”

Il Duce was undoubtedly influenced by the most pragmatic of reasons in this new orientation which pleased the Catholics so much, and not at all by the religious considerations that motivated the Catholics within the Popular Party. Still they had to concede that he had accomplished more in twelve months than they had achieved in three years. In spite of the collaboration of the Popularists, however, many acts of violence against religious demonstrations were committed by small bands of hotheads among the Fascists. Mussolini, who readily admitted the necessity of a purging within the ranks, publicly deplored these sporadic outbreaks. The popular idea persisted among the Fascists that the Catholic Youth Movement was identified with the Popular Party. Yet Pius XI had repeatedly issued injunctions to the various groups of Catholic Youth to hold themselves aloof from all political activity.

When in the spring of 1923 the Popular Party held its congress in Turin, the Fascists became thoroughly aroused, fearing they did not intend to go along with the new government. Mussolini was demanding that all Popular Party members be excluded from the ministry and that their leader, Don Sturzo, resign his post as Secretary of the Party. In midsummer the earnest, idealistic priest-turned-politician, retired from public life. A strong movement of opposition was again begun by the Popular Party when they openly opposed the Acerbo Law which aimed at creating a solid majority of Fascist representatives in the Chamber of Deputies. When this law was passed, the Popular Party allied themselves with die Socialists in opposition. The deplorable assassination of Matteotti at the connivance of well-known government men did not mend matters among the opposition which hoped to overthrow the ministry.

The Popular Party’s alliance with Socialism was condemned by the Osservatore Romano and by Civilta Cattolica. This for two reasons: first, because the Encyclical II fermo proposito had permitted Catholics to vote in order to combat Socialism which the Church declared was opposed to religion; and second, because if the Socialists should triumph, the whole country would once more be thrown into revolution. In an address to Catholic students, Pope Pius replied to the offense taken at the rebuke contained in the Catholic press by Popular Party members, by saying:

Comparison is made with the collaboration of Catholics and Socialists in other countries. But . . . this is to confuse by lack of proper distinction, facts quite different in their nature. Apart from the difference of the surroundings and their historical, political and religious conditions, it is one thing to be facing a party which has already reached power, and another to open the way to this party and give it the opportunity of arriving to power. Why, in the name of Catholic interests, should we give or think ourselves obliged to give, our adhesion to a party whose program involves a neutrality which per se would lead to abstraction from Catholicism itself?

Yet, in spite of these sagacious words which reveal a statesmanship equal to that of Mussolini himself, the Popular Party did not heed the Papal dictum. The alliance between them and the Socialists grew more close. The cause of religion in Italy was embarrassed and jeopardized by their continued co-operation with Socialism, When Signor Casalini was assassinated in Rome by Communists on September 12th, Mussolini showed restraint and his attitude toward the Holy See remained unchanged. Many significant acts proved Il Duce’s determination to increase Catholic prestige. The next month he restored the cross to the tower of the Capitol, a cross which in 1882 the anti-clericals had torn down and buried in underground vaults.

Pius XI, reading the signs of the new times and bent on fulfilling the Church’s mission in modern society, recognized in the new ruler of Italy a medium for the fulfillment of his long-cherished dreams. He bided his time and prepared the ground by study and long consultations with his Secretary of State, the able and forth-right Gasparri. From his watch-tower on Vatican Hill Pius XI believed he saw the yearning of the people of Italy for a final solution of the irritating Roman Question. The Pope was convinced that the new leader of Italy’s destiny was a providential agent, although a dangerous one, who must be watched with circumspection and approached with infinite tact to achieve his dearly desired goal.

For deeper than his fondest dream of emancipating the Papacy from the incongruous position it held in relation to the Italian state, more passionate than his patriotism as an Italian to free his country from an embarrassing impasse, the Supreme Pontiff of Catholicism was primarily and consumingly concerned about bringing, to a sick and weary world, unity and peace among men. He was not content with signing concordats, though he signed them whenever he could. He saw farther into the future. He was patiently preparing the ground and laying the foundation of a policy that should influence future generations. In other words the old Question took on modern implications. It was no longer an end in itself, but a means to that Papal independence that was necessary for the achieving of a holier goal – world peace!

For to realize his dream of the Peace of Christ in the Reign of Christ more than pious phrases and prayers were needed. If ever a Pope believed that faith without works is dead, certainly Pius XI knew it, and he had learned, through his vast experience in dealing with men, that one must not only be as disarming as a dove but as wise as a serpent. He would be constant as a man must ever be who believes in the sacredness of his cause and the grandeur of his vision.

Therefore, for seven busy and crowded years, Pius waited and labored with faith and in prayer. During those years he celebrated Jubilee Year, and gave his wise and earnest attention to the promotion of foreign missions. But in all that he undertook, whether it was the founding of a Catholic university in Milan, succeeded by those at Assisi, at Faro, or the Russian and Czecho-Slovakian universities in Rome, or the creation of new Cardinals, always at the back of his mind and permeating all that he promoted was his aspiration to create counter-forces against war and to bring to pass as a reality the full meaning of his motto, Pax Christi in regno Christi (The peace of the Kingdom of Christ).

The Holy Father expressed himself in regard to European and world politics in these pertinent words:

When politics draw near the Altar; then religion, the Church, and the Pope who represents them, have not only the right but the duty to give indications and guidance which Catholics have the right to request and the duty to follow.

For to make the world anew in the spirit of the Peace of Christ in the Kingdom of Christ, mere pacificism, in the sense of passive resistance, is not the method nor the goal of Pius XI. His approach to the problem of world peace has nothing in common with the tactics of the leader of the Indian people, Mahatma Gandhi. True to her tradition, the Church has consistently incorporated new policies and up-to-date equipment to fit her to function in a modern world. Under Pius XI instrumentalities and scientific inventions have been commandeered and put into operation that shall serve the Holy See long after the Pope of Peace has passed on to his Maker.