The Pope's Last Crusade (15 page)

The pope was talking about race, the threat of war, and a fearful future. “In one place a magical remedy is prescribed . . . elsewhere people are roused to enthusiasm by a leader's intoxicating appeal to the Unity of the Race, while in the eastern European sky dawns a promise reddened with terror and blood of a new humanity to be realized in the Unity of the Proletariat.

This statement would declare to the world that the pope sided with neither the Nazis—Hitler and his mania about race—nor with the Soviets.

LaFarge did not want to deal with Communism in this encyclical. He knew the pope had done that before in his 1937 encyclical
Divinis Redemptoris.
Everything had its time and place. Here, the pope would tell the world clearly that there was only one race of humanity, and no other racial divisions existed. The pope had called in LaFarge to make this point. LaFarge, the American Jesuit, had simplified the question by declaring that racism is a fraud and a myth.

This pope was the first in history to confide in an American Jesuit to take on such a world-changing task. Yet, spurred on and counseled by Gundlach, LaFarge had worked within the system. The draft would have to go through other hands. They needed to build their case, Gundlach said, and pay attention to structure. If for nothing else, the writing had to be circumspect enough both to pass the virtual censorship around the pope and to protect the ideas he had asked LaFarge to provide.

The encyclical's introduction would make a general declaration, pointed directly at Adolf Hitler:

When we come to the question of race we find most completely exemplified the harm that is done by the loose, sentimental, almost mystical manner of speaking which has been applied to the ideas of nation, people, and State . . . racial bond is used, in accordance with present-day scientific parlance, to denote the common participation of a group of human beings in certain definite, permanent physical qualities, and in association with the bodily constitution which is marked by these physical qualities are certain constantly observed psychological characteristics. But so-called racism . . . contradicts the principle that no type of separation can be genuinely human, unless it shares in that which forms the common bond of humanity.

The key point emerged deep into the encyclical after a statement of purpose and series of section headings: “Denial of Human Unity; effects of the totalitarian state on human unity; right of association suppressed, manipulation of public opinion, authority derives from God, the waste of war . . .” Then after a methodical development, tracing history and the rights of man, the encyclical came to the essential substance: racism denies humanity; religion can recognize no divisions in race; there is no such thing as an inferior race. More specifically, in dealing with the plight of the Jews, the encyclical stated that Nazis had built a myth about a master race; and that the lies about a master race had devolved into the persecution of Jews; that as a result of racial policies (in Germany and Italy), Jews were under attack and were being deprived of their most basic rights of life and liberty. Racism, LaFarge wrote,

is not content with denying the validity of the universal moral order as a benefit that unifies the whole human race; it likewise denies the general and equal application of essential values in the field of economic welfare, or art, of science and, above all, of religion. It maintains, for instance, that each race should have its own science, which should have nothing in common with the science of another race, particularly of an inferior race. . . . Respect for reality . . . does not permit the Catholic to remain silent in the presence of racism. [Totalitarianism] destroys the basic structure of humanity as a true unity in true diversity and thereby betrays its own inner falsity and worthlessness.

LaFarge was certain the pope would remember having said: “Say simply what you would say if you were pope.” LaFarge had done just that.

LaFarge sent a message to Ledóchowski that the job was done, and the Jesuit General responded that he was pleased and told LaFarge there was no need for him to bring the encyclical to Rome. He could ship it by messenger and return to the United States. Your task is done, the Jesuit leader seemed to be saying: Now go home. Ledóchowski said he would forward the document to the pope right away.

LaFarge was tempted by this offer, in part because he hadn't been feeling well. He was always tired, wasn't eating properly, and was losing weight. Part of his state of health could be attributed to sadness about the loss of his brother. Part was also accumulated tension over completing the encyclical, and insomnia. He had remarked about his health concerns to Talbot and his family, though he never mentioned any specific ailment. Throughout his life, LaFarge had been considered sickly, and his family surmised that he might be having prostate problems. Later in life, he had several operations that forced months of convalescence, but he never disclosed details. In Paris, LaFarge had tried to suffer his ailments in silence, but he had probably made too much of it when speaking to those around him. Perhaps Ledóchowski's offer might in part have come in response to those health complaints.

Gundlach warned LaFarge that Ledóchowski's proposal seemed suspicious and advised him to hand deliver the encyclical to Rome. Gundlach had once been an ally of Ledóchowski, but now that he was cluing in LaFarge on the Vatican politics swirling around him, he was an antagonist. Even so, Gundlach could not have predicted that Ledóchowski would try to delay publication of the encyclical indefinitely.

Gundlach warned LaFarge as best he could. Still, he was careful not to go too far. He knew LaFarge's earnestness and devotion would prevent him from believing that Ledóchowski, the leader of his order, could have ulterior motives.

LaFarge may not have been thoroughly convinced by Gundlach's cautions, but he did agree that he should hand carry the document down to Rome. He sent a message to Ledóchowski that he “could not accept his offer [to leave for home directly from Paris], tempting as it was (for I dread the trip). I'm convinced one must be on the spot to explain the why's and wherefore's and have learned the need of this from various sources.” The pope had said he expected to see him again, and LaFarge anticipated questions and requests for revisions.

By September 20, the writing team had finished clean drafts of the encyclical in the required languages. The Jesuits then agreed to split up. Gundlach took a train to Switzerland and would relax there for a few days. At about the same time, LaFarge traveled from Paris down to Rome. They had agreed to reconnoiter in Rome where they would await queries and fine-tuning of the encyclical.

LaFarge checked in this time at the Jesuit community residence on Borgo Spirito Santo, just off St. Peter's Square. Ledóchowski saw him quickly and gave his assurances that everything would work out well. Ledóchowski said he would read the encyclical and then deliver it promptly to the pope.

LaFarge stayed in Rome for a week and met with Ledóchowski a few other times, but never did he press for a meeting with the pope, although it was his right to do so. LaFarge stayed on and waited for further instructions from Ledóchowski or the pope, though none came. It is unlikely the pope was told that LaFarge was in Rome. LaFarge was sandwiched by his duty to the head of the Jesuits—following the chain of command—and by his exhaustion and desire to go home. He was still grieving for Bancel, and he had heard more bad news about Grant's deteriorating health. He felt he needed to be with his family and began to look for passage back home. The possibility of war created a flood of mostly Jewish refugees overwhelming steamship offices with requests for tickets to leave Europe immediately.

By September 23, news came that Chamberlain had hammered out a draft agreement with Hitler that gave Sudetenland to Germany along with the right to occupy the territory by October 10. Essentially the Nazis got Sudetenland without a fight—and the agreement severed the pact of mutual assistance that Czechoslovakia had maintained with Britain and France.

Cardinal Pacelli drove down to Castel Gandolfo from Rome on Saturday morning, September 24, for a regular audience with the pope, their final meeting before Pacelli was leaving on his extended annual vacation in Switzerland. The tensions in Europe must have dominated their conversation. Even if they did not yet know of the agreement with Hitler, they were aware of Chamberlain's negotiations with the German dictator over the future of Czechoslovakia.

Pacelli told the pope about his meeting the previous day with Diego von Bergen, the German ambassador to the Holy See, and what he'd said about the negotiations with Hitler. There was speculation that the Vatican might become involved directly or as an intermediary toward peace, but the pope merely expressed “optimism because everything is in God's hands.” Pius resisted making any statements because he agreed with Chamberlain's critics who said that Hitler could not be stopped by appeasement and peace treaties.

Pacelli left the pope, rode the small elevator down to the courtyard, and returned to his car. His driver was waiting just outside the apostolic palace gates. Soon after they pulled away, they turned onto the road for the ride back to Rome. Rounding one sharp turn on a road riddled with curves and embankments, the driver had to swerve suddenly to avoid a boy riding his bicycle. The driver lost control and sideswiped the boy, who was thrown from his bike. Pacelli was hurled violently forward and smacked his head and cheek on one of the car windows.

The pope heard about the accident quickly, along with a preliminary report that Pacelli was not seriously hurt. The pope sent two members of the household to help in any way they could. They arrived within moments and saw that the cardinal appeared to be well, only suffering some bruises. They sent him back to St. Peter's in a separate car and arranged for the boy to be taken to the hospital in nearby Albano, where doctors treated him for some scrapes and a dislocated shoulder. A Vatican doctor examined the cardinal when he arrived and confirmed that Pacelli had not been seriously hurt. The doctor then drove down to Castel Gandolfo to assure the pontiff that Pacelli was well. It was a disaster averted.

Pacelli felt well enough the next day to leave for Switzerland. The pope was always reluctant to see him go. Despite differences in opinion, the pope had relied heavily on Pacelli in the eight years he had been secretary of state. There was much work to be done.

W
ILLIAM PHILLIPS WAS
back in Rome in September after escaping the city's August heat. His wife stayed behind in the Italian Alps for a while longer, preferring the daily rains to the sweltering heat that continued. Phillips was scheduled to return to Washington for meetings with President Roosevelt and the secretary of state. But first he needed to focus on his main brief from the president, which involved applying pressure on the Italian government and maintaining communications with the Vatican. He asked for a meeting with Mussolini's foreign minister, Galeazzo Ciano, before he left for America that night. At the foreign ministry, Phillips pushed Ciano to encourage the Germans to be moderate in their handling of Czechoslovakia.

“I reminded Ciano that our relations with Germany were anything but satisfactory,” Phillips wrote in his diary. “The Italian Government, on the contrary, was in such intimate relations that it seemed to me of the utmost importance that they should exercise a restraining influence in the event of the occurrence of a real crisis.”

Ciano recalled that his response was somewhat distracted and by rote: “I play [
sic
] the same pro-German and anti-Czech music: all the responsibilities belong to Prague.”

Phillips was not having any of that. “So far as I was concerned,” he recalled, “I would look to him personally to do everything in his power to restrain the German Government at such a moment.”

They went back and forth about relations with Germany and about Hitler and his designs on Czechoslovakia. Ciano did not offer any clear answers and finally changed the pace with a question of his own.

He wanted to know what Phillips thought the United States would do if war broke out in Europe. The ambassador replied by comparing 1938 to the period prior to the U.S. entry in the European war in 1917. There were parallels, and while there certainly was strong antiwar sentiment right now in the United States, things could change.

“A long war might again see the same situation,” Phillips said. “When American lives and ships were lost, and if this happened, the emotions of the American people might sweep the country in a briefer space of time.”

In such a case, the United States would go to war against Germany. Phillips was resolute and wanted to make sure Ciano heard him clearly. It would be a world war.

Phillips was so troubled by the direction and tenor of this conversation, he decided this was no time to leave his post. He cabled Roosevelt as soon as he returned to the embassy. The president agreed and confirmed Phillips's answer about going to war.

Roosevelt cabled back: “If we get the idea that the future of our form of government is threatened by a coalition of European dictators, we might wade in with everything we have to give. . . . Today I think ninety per cent of our people are definitely anti-German and anti-Italian in sentiment—and incidentally, I would not propose to ask them to be neutral in thought.”

As Phillips monitored events from Rome, he stayed in closer touch with Joseph Hurley, his conduit to the pope. He called the American monsignor to the embassy and placed two items on the agenda. First, he asked Hurley to secure permission to begin publishing President Roosevelt's speeches and other significant statements in
Osservatore Romano
. Italians had no independent information about the United States or about Roosevelt's perspective on tensions in Europe. The newspaper would be doing a great service by providing uncensored news directly from Washington.