Well, here we are in Rome at the Hotel Élite et des Étrangers. Spring comes earlier here and it is already very warm.
Our voyage to Ostia on the Moravia was without much incident and for me quite enjoyable. I haven’t been so drunk for years, though an Englishman I chummed up with went a bit further. He fell and broke his leg. Collopy, who never showed any sign of sickness drank plenty too but spent most of his time in bed. (Thank God we had decent beds and not those frightful bunks.) First, the job of trying to dress him on a tilting floor was at least an hour’s for Father Fahrt, a steward and myself. Once dressed, he found movement on shipboard almost impossible. I had to give another steward not tips but a massive salary to lend a special hand but gangways and steps were nearly insuperable. I used to bring people down to the bedroom to drink and talk with him. He was not in the least depressed by his situation, and the sea air certainly had a good effect. Father Fahrt rather let us down. He soon found there were four members of his own Order on board and was huddled with them for most of every day. He came down to Collopy only in the evening, and for some reason has refused all drinks. He is in very good shape and temper, though, and is now staying in a Jesuit house here. He comes faithfully to the hotel every morning at eleven.
Collopy is much easier to handle and dress on terra firma—indeed, he could dress himself if he was using the tramp’s rags he wears in Dublin—and we usually spend the first part of the day till lunch time sitting in the sun and talking. Irish whiskey is impossible to get, of course, and Collopy is drinking absinthe. I am drinking so much brandy myself that I sometimes get afraid of heart failure. In the afternoons we usually hire a wagonette and go for a slow tour of sights such as the Colosseum and the Forum; we have been twice to the piazza of St Peter’s. At night, I see Collopy put to bed and just disappear until the small hours. I find the Eternal City is full of brothels but I keep clear of them. There are some damn fine night clubs, most of them, I am told, illegal.
And now for the inside trickery. I knew we could rely on Father Fahrt to start secret schemings without even being asked. Yesterday morning he brought along a Monsignor Cahill, a remarkable character and a Corkman. He is a sort of Vatican civil servant and attends on the Holy Father personally. He is not only an interpreter who has expert knowledge of at least eight languages (he says) but he is also a stenographer whose job it is to take down ail remarks and observations made by the Holy Father in the course of an audience. He translates the supplications of pilgrims orally but takes down only the replies. He is a most friendly man, is always genuinely delighted to see anybody from Ireland, and knows exactly what to do with a good glass of wine. He took a great fancy to Collopy who, to my own great surprise, has a detailed knowledge of Cork city.
He promised to do everything possible to arrange a private audience but Father Fahrt has a far bigger card in his pack. He knows, or has made it his business to get to know, a certain Cardinal Baldini. This man is what they call a domestic prelate, and works every day in the papal suite. He has, of course, enormous power and can fix anything. Father Fahrt is very cagey and has promised Collopy nothing solid beyond saying that the Pontiff is very busy and one must be patient. Personally I have no doubt at all that this audience will come off. I believe in it sufficiently to have bought Collopy a monkey suit. Cardinal Baldini is a Franciscan and lives at the Franciscan monastery at the Via Merulana, where there is also the fine church of Santo Antonio di Padua. (My Italian is improving fast.) That is all for now. Will write again in a few days. M.
P.S. Keep your eye on Annie. I hope there is no canal nonsense going on.
18
The next letter I received was a short one, a week afterwards. Here is what he wrote:
Well, the expected happened. Father Fahrt came as usual this morning and after some small talk, casually told Collopy and myself to have our monkey suits on that evening at six because we were all going to pay a call on Cardinal Baldini at his monastery. It was a most dramatic revelation. Obviously Father Fahrt had been working quietly and silently behind the scenes, in the Jesuit fashion. I knew the private audience had been fixed but said nothing.
Having first fixed myself up, I took the precaution of beginning the job of getting Collopy into his dress clothes at five and it was a wise move, for it took nearly an hour. He looked very funny in the end.
We drove with Father Fahrt to the Via Merulana. The Monastery was a simple,. austere place but apparently very big. The reception room was comfortable enough but full of holy pictures. Cardinal Baldini when he came in was a short, stout man, very jovial in manner. We kissed his ring as he greeted us in perfect English. We sat down at our ease.
‘And how are all my friends in Dublin’ he asked Collopy.
‘Faith and they are in very good form, Your Eminence. I did not know you were there.’
‘I paid a visit in 1896. And I spent ten years in England.’
‘Well, well.’
Then Father Fahrt started yapping out of him about the charm of foreign travel, how it broadens the mind and shows the Catholic how universal the universal church is.
‘I was never one to roam,’ Collopy said. Somehow a man must stay where his work is.’
‘True indeed,’ Cardinal Baldini said, ‘but our vineyard is indeed commodious. And every year that passes it gets bigger. Look at the work that is yet to be done in Africa, in China, even in Japan.’
‘I realize how immense the job is,’ Collopy replied, ‘because I have been doing missionary work of my own. Not the religious kind, of course.’
Here Father Fahrt began talking about the central point of all religion—the Vatican and the Holy Father.
Finally, the Cardinal turned to Collopy and said:
‘Mr Collopy, I believe yourself and your little party would like to have a private audience with the Holy Father?’
‘Your Eminence, it would be indeed a great honour.’
‘Well, I have arranged it. The afternoon of the day after tomorrow at four o’clock.’
‘We are all most grateful to you, Eminence,’ Father Fahrt said.
That was about all. We drove back to the hotel very pleased with ourselves. I went straight to the American bar there to celebrate. The audience will be over by the time you get this. I will write immediately and give you an account of it.—M.
19
I must let the next extraordinary letter speak for itself It put the heart across me.
Several days have passed since that audience and it is only now that I am able, with Monsignor Cahill’s help, to send you this letter. Please keep it safely as I have no copy.
There was a frightful, appalling row.
As a matter of fact the Pope told us all to go to hell. He threatened to silence Father Fahrt.
The papal palaces are to the right of the basilica as you approach it and just past the entrance, Father Fahrt led us to a small office run by the Swiss Guards. It was a private rendezvous for in five minutes Cardinal Baldini appeared, welcomed us and gave each of us a thick guide or catalogue. As there was plenty of time to spare walking through this enormous and dazzling place talking all the time, showing us the loggia of Gregory XIII, a wonderful gallery; the Throne Room; the Sala Rotunda, a round hall full of statues; the Raphael salon, with many of the great man’s paintings; part of the Vatican Museum; the Sistine Chapel and many other places I cannot remember, nor can I remember much from the Cardinal’s stream of talk except that the Vatican has a parish priest (not the Pope). The splendour of it all was stupendous. God forgive me, I thought it was a bit vulgar in places and that all the gilt and gold was sometimes a bit overdone.
‘The late Leo,’ Cardinal Baldini said, ‘was at home with kings and princes and rejoiced in art and the higher learning. Of course his Rerum Novarum was a great thing for the labouring classes. But the man you are going to meet is the Pope of the Poor and the humble. In any way he can help them, he always does.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Collopy said.
I thought of the miracle we were hoping for concerning his weight. But he had yet been told nothing of that.
We came to a door and entered a beautiful room. This was the ante-room to the Pope’s study. The Cardinal bade us wait and passed through another door. The place was delightfully peaceful. After some minutes the other door opened and the Cardinal beckoned to us. We allowed Collopy, slowly progressing on his stick, to lead the way, myself in the middle and Father Fahrt last.
The Holy Father was seated behind a desk, with Monsignor Cahill sitting some distance to his right. Pius X was smallish, rather thin and looked fairly old. He smiled thinly at us, rose and came round to meet us. We knelt and kissed the Fisherman’s Ring and heard his voice raised in Latin as he imparted what I suppose was the apostolic benediction.
He then went back to his seat behind the desk while the pilgrims and the Cardinal advanced to chairs facing it. I chose a chair far to the side, for I did not want to make any remarks or have any questions addressed to me. I noticed that Monsignor Cahill had paper and a pencil ready.
The Pope said something in Italian to Mr Collopy and Monsignor Cahill instantly translated, also rapidly translating his reply back into Italian.
THE POPE—How do things fare in your country, beloved Ireland?
COLLOPY—Only middling, Your Holiness. The British are still there.
THE POPE—And is the country not prosperous?
COLLOPY—I do not think so, Your Holiness, for there is much unemployment in Dublin.
THE POPE—Ah, that grieves our heart.
FATHER FAHRT (in Italian)—Some of the Irish tend to be a bit indolent, Sanctissime Pater, but their faith is perhaps the strongest in Christendom. I am a German and have seen nothing like it in Germany. It is inspiring.
THE POPE—Ireland was ever dear to our heart. She is a blessed country. Her missionaries are everywhere.
(After a little more desultory conversation Mr Collopy said something in a low voice which I did not catch. Monsignor Cahill instantly translated. The Pope seemed startled. Mr Collopy then made a much longer mumbled speech which was also quickly translated. I am indebted to Monsignor Cahill for a transcription of the Pope’s remarks, which were in Latin and Italian, and the translation is also largely his.)
COLLOPY spoke
THE POPE
Che cosa sta dicendo questo poveretto?
What is this poor child trying to say?
MONSIGNOR CAHILL Spoke.
THE POPE
E tocco? Nonnunquam urbis nostrae visitentium capitibus affert vaporem. Dei praesidium hujus infantis amantissimi invocare velimus.
Is this child in his senses? Sometimes the heat of our city brings a vapour into the heads. We invoke God’s protection for a beloved child.
COLLOPY spoke again.
MONSIGNOR CAHILL Spoke.
THE POPE
Ho paura che abbiate fatto un errore, Eminenza, nel potar qui questo pio uomo. Mi sembra che sia un po’ tocco. Forse gli manca una rotella. Ha sbagliato indirizzo? Non siamo medici che curano il corpo.
Dear Cardinal, I fear you have made a mistake in bringing this pious man to see us. I fear the Lord has lead a finger on him. We would not say that his head is working properly. Can it be that he is the wrong place? We are not a doctor for the body.
FATHER FAHRT Spoke.
THE POPE
Ma questo è semplicemente mostruoso. Neque hoc nostrum officium cum concilii urbani officio est con-fundendum.
But this is monstrous. Nor should our office be confused with that of a city council.
CARDINAL BALDINI Spoke.
THE POPE
Nobis presentibus istud dici indignum est. Num consilium istud inusitatum rationis legibus continetur? Nunquam nos ejusmodi quicquam audivimus.
It is a derogation of our presence. Does such an unheard-of suggestion lie within reason? We have never heard of such a thing before.
COLLOPY mumbled something.
MONSIGNOR CAHILL Spoke.
THE POPE
Graviter commovemur ista tam mira observatione ut de tanta re sententiam dicamus. Intra hos parietes dici dedecet. Hic enim est locus sacer.
We are deeply troubled by such a strange supplication for our intervention on such a question. It is improper that such a matter should be mentioned within these walls. This is a sacred place.
CARDINAL BALDINI spoke in Italian.
THE POPE
Non possiamo accettare scuse e pretesti. II Reverendo Fahrt ha sbagliato. Ci da grande dolore.
We cannot accept pretexts and excuses. Father Fahrt has lapsed. He Jills us with sorrow.
FATHER FAHRT spoke in Italian.
THE POPE
Non possiamo accettare ciò. Sembra ci siaunrilassamento nella disciplina nella Società di Gestù in Irlanda. Seil Padre Provinciale non agisce, dovremo noi stessi far tacere il Reverendo Fahrt.
We do not accept that at all. There seems to be a weakness of discipline in the Society of Jesus in Ireland. If Father Provincial in Ireland does not move, we will silence Father Fahrt ourselves.
COLLOPY mumbled something.
MONSIGNOR CAHILL spoke.
CARDINAL BALDINI spoke in Italian.
THE POPE
È inutile parlarne. Quest’ uomo soffre di allucinazionie di ossessioni, e è stato condotto su questa via del Reverendo Fahrt. Come abbiamo già detto, tutto questo ci rattrista profondamente, Cardinale.
It is no good. This man is suffering from serious delusions and obsessions and he is being encouraged in this disorder by Father Fahrt. As we have said, it brings sorrow to our heart, Cardinal.
CARDINAL BALDINI Spoke.
THE POPE
Homo miserrimus in valetudinario a medico curandus est.
This poor man needs attention in hospital.
CARDINAL BALDINI spoke again.
THE POPE
Bona mulier fons gratiae. Attamen ipsae in parvularum rerum suarum occupationibus verrentur. Nos de tantulis rebus consulere non decet.
A good woman is a fountain of grace. But it is themselves whom they should busy about their private little affairs. It is not seemly to consult us on such matters.
CARDINAL BALDINI spoke yet again.
THE POPE
Forsitan poena leviora ille Reverendus Fahrt adduci possit ut et sui sit memor et quae sacerdotis sint partes intellegere.
Perhaps a milder penance will bring Father Fahrt to recollect himself and have true regard to his holy duties.
The Pope then rose and the members of the audience also rose.
THE POPE
Nobis nune abeundum esse videtur. Illud modo ex liberis meis quaero ut de iis cogiteat quae exposui.
I think we should now retire. I ask my children to meditate upon the thoughts we have voiced.
The Holy Father then made the Sign of the Cross, and disappeared through a door behind him.
We silently filed out through the ante-room, Cardinal Baldini walking ahead with Father Fahrt, the two of them talking together quietly. At the time I had no idea, of course, what the subject of the audience had been or what had been said in Latin or Italian by the Pope. It was only when I interviewed Monsignor Cahill the following day that I got the information I have set down here. I asked him what the subject of Mr Collopy’s representations were. He said he had given his word of honour that he would not disclose this to anybody.
My progress at Mr Collopy’s side in the Vatican corridors was slow and tedious. No miracle had cured his fabulous weight. I suppose there was still time.
20
I WAS lying in bed one morning, having already decided I would not go to school that day and thinking that perhaps I would never go back to it. The brother’s last extraordinary letter about the Holy Father and Father Fahrt had contained a cheque for twenty-five pounds. I had already trained Annie to bring me some breakfast in bed and was lying there at my ease, smoking and thinking. I could hear men shouting at horses on the tow-path, hauling a barge. It was amazing how quickly life
changed. The brother’s legacy of £5,000 was a miracle in itself, and another miracle was his feat in founding a new sort of university in London. Then you had the three of them inside the Vatican arguing with the Holy Father himself. It would not surprise me if the brother turned out to be appointed Governor of Rome or even came home in the purple of a cardinal, for I knew that in the old days it was common for Popes to appoint mere children to be cardinals. I thought I would join the brother in London. Even if his business did not suit me, there would be plenty of other jobs to be had there. Suddenly Annie came into the room and handed me an orange envelope. It was a cablegram.
COLLOPY DEAD AND FUNERAL IS
TOMORROW HERE IN ROME AM WRITING
I nearly fell out of the bed. Annie stood staring at me.
–Seemingly they are on their way home? she asked.
–Em, yes, I stammered. They will probably take the short route home direct to London. The brother’s business, you know.
–Isn’t it well for them, she said, to be globe-trotting and gallivanting?
–It can be very tiring.
–Ah yes, but look at the money they have. Isn’t it well for them?
She went away and I lay there, quite desolated—I who had been reflecting on the amazing suddenness with which life changed. I had lied automatically to Annie and only now realized that the dead man was her father. I lit another cigarette and realized that I had no idea what I should do. What could I do?
After a time I got up and hung disconsolately about the house for a time. Annie had gone out, presumably to buy food. I was completely in a quandary about breaking the bad news to her. How would she take it? That question was quite beyond me. I thought a couple of good bottles of stout would do me no harm. I was about to pull on my overcoat when I paused, pulled out the cable again and stared at it. Then I did what I suppose was something cowardly. I put the thing on the kitchen table and walked quickly out of the house. I crossed over the canal at Baggot Street Bridge and was soon sitting in a pub looking at a bottle of stout.