Kneeling Majesty

Fifty-nine years ago when ten-month-old Vittorio Emanuele, Prince of Naples, swung a royal rattle, and 13-year-old Achille Ratti declined irregular verbs in a Milan seminary, the troops of small Vittorio's grandfather, Vittorio Emanuele II, King of Sardinia, recently proclaimed King of Italy, stormed and breached the walls of the Papal city of Rome.

"I give thanks to God," wrote Pius IX. "who has permitted Your Majesty to fill the last days of my life with bitterness. I pray God to dispense to you his mercy, which you so much need."

From that day no Pope left his self-imposed "imprisonment" within the comparatively narrow confines of the Vatican, no member of the Italian Royal Family set foot on Papal ground. At last came the Lateran Treaties, re-establishing the temporal power of the Pope (TIME, Feb. 18). Last week the onetime Prince of Naples, now King of Italy, called on the onetime Achille Ratti, now Pope Pius XI. To 40 million Italians, to 331 million Roman Catholics, it was a day of reconciliation never to be forgotten.

For safety's sake, no advance news was given of the route that the King and Queen would take in their ride from Quirinal Palace to Vatican Palace. The huge oval of St. Peter's Square was kept free of spectators. From dawn on the day appointed, crowds of pious, enthusiastic Romans jammed the sidewalks of every street through which the royal pair could possibly pass, whiled away the long hours playing lottery games. Enterprising peddlers did a rushing business selling envelopes containing numbers shrewdly dubbed the "favorites" of the Pope, the King, the Queen. Many a Roman policeman unbent to buy tickets himself and play with the crowd.

Motor horns honked, grey-green soldiers snapped to present arms, and a fleet of eight cars, preceded and followed by bicycle policemen, swept through the streets. To the disappointment of the crowds, the royal procession was quite as informal as the usual public appearances of Herbert Hoover.

Whatever the Royal cortege lacked in grandeur was more than made up by pomp displayed by the Supreme Pontiff. At the technical frontier of the minuscule Vatican State the eight motor cars stopped. There, brilliant in the warm December sunshine stood Commendatore Serafini, Governor of Vatican City; Prince Massimo, Papal Postmaster General, gorgeous in hose, doublet and a stiff medieval ruff, with a red-plumed morion on his head; and Commendatore de Mandato, general of the Pope's Armies. Out of his automobile stepped short-legged Vittorio Emanuele III, in the grey-green and silver dress uniform of a field marshal. From his hat sprouted a white aigrette, round his neck hung the flashing gold chain of the Collar of the Annunziata, on his breast blazed medals. Towering a good head and shoulders above him stood Queen Elena.

She was all in white, high-necked, long-sleeved, as Vatican etiquette demands. Half shrouded by a white lace mantilla, her regal head carried a proud coronet, and upon the black cordon of Malta across her bosom depended in eight strands the fabulous Pearls of Savoy, huge as pale butter balls.

Governor Serafini stepped forward. "Majesties!" he boomed. "In my capacity as Governor of Vatican City I have the high honor, in the name of my Sovereign. His Holiness Pius XI, to extend to you a welcome." They remounted their limousine.

Silver trumpets fanfared. The royal procession moved across St. Peter's Square. Like medieval statues, a platoon of the famed Swiss Guards stood at attention in the scarlet, green and yellow uniforms designed for them by Michael Angelo. Sunlight gleamed from the polished steel of halberd, morion, breastplate, pauldron, rerebrace. Under the Bernini colonnade, the Palatine Guards, more "efficient section of the Pope's army, snapped modern rifles to the present.

In the courtyard of St. Damascus came a final disembarkment from the royal motors. Self-conscious reporters in swallowtail coats noted in Their Majesties' party the fascinating brown beard of Italian Foreign Minister Dino Grandi, "The Right Hand of II Duce," and the brigand-like black mustache of Cesare Maria di Vecchi, Count di Val Cismon. Italian Ambassador to the Holy See. Swiss drummers in velvet hats thumped yellow-painted drums. Swiss bandsmen blared the Italian royal anthem (the first time that such music had echoed from the Vatican's sacred walls), and followed it with the Papal hymn Inno Pontificio.

There is no sovereign in the world who has so many personal servants as the Pope. In the inner courtyard of St. Damascus this fact was gorgeously demonstrated to little King Vittorio Emanuele and his tall white spouse. Here was a final detachment of the Papal Army, elaborately upholstered Gendarmes in fur busbies, varnished jack boots, flashing sabres. In a knot of red, pink, crimson, purple and white, stood the Grand Master of the Holy Hospice, the Secret Almoner, the Pope's Sacristan, Secret Chamberlains, Knights of the Cape and Sword, Noble Guards, Cardinals, Lay Gentlemen-in-Waiting.

To the King and Queen it was all new and strange. Although the corridors they marched through, the stairs they climbed, were familiar to most Romans, Their Majesties had only seen them in photographs. Right and left they peered like tourists. In the Hall of St. John, antechamber to the Sola del Tronetto (room of the "little throne"), the royal and papal procession stopped. Two bussolanti (official door openers), in scarlet damask knee breeches, flung wide the doors. There, smiling benignly through his steel rimmed spectacles, stood the Pontifex Maximus.

Courtiers drew back. King and Queen advanced, dropped on one knee, kissed the Pope's ring.

For months, every move, every gesture of this auspicious tableau had been argued and arranged between committees of papal and royal experts in etiquette. Chief rub: Papal etiquette demanded that visiting sovereigns should kiss the Pope's toe. Vittorio Emanuele, or Benito Mussolini, found this unbecoming to the dignity of the House of Savoy (TIME, Nov. 25). Hence the compromise, the one-kneed genuflection. His Holiness did not leave Their Majesties kneeling long. Quickly he motioned them to their feet, led them to two armchairs placed on a level with and on either side of his "Little Throne,"* which was under a velvet canopy.

Courtiers had a brief glimpse of a white-robed Queen, a gold-collared King, and the resplendent Pope. Over his white silk cassock the Pope wore a rocchetto (tunic) of fine point lace down to his ankles; on his shoulders was a red velvet mozzetta (short cape) bordered with ermine. The doors closed, leaving Majesties and Pontiff to commune in secret. Correspondents wondered what was said. Worldly wise cardinals and diplomats knew that whatever it was it was not important.

Twenty minutes later the doors were opened. Courtiers filed in. Gifts had been exchanged. To the Pope, King Vittorio gave a jeweled cross in a casket of polished stone. Queen Elena presented an antique crucifix, belonging by tradition to the Venerable Clothilde of Savoy. On the King the Pontiff bestowed the Supreme Order of Christ, gave His Majesty also a set of three rare medals in a white leather box, and (most appreciated of all, for Vittorio Emanuele is a famed numismatist) a four-volume illustrated catalog of the Vatican coin collection. For Queen Elena the Beatissimus Pater produced a mosaic reproduction of Raphael's Madonna of the Chair, and a jeweled rosary. To Crown Prince Umberto, His Holiness sent a special blessing, observed benignly that ''in him lie the hopes of the Italian people, and not the Italian people alone."*

Visiting was not over for the King and Queen when they left the Pontiff's presence. There was still a call to be paid upon Cardinal Gasparri, Papal Secretary of State, in his state apartments, and (thrilling moment for Their Majesties) the first visit to the Basilica of St. Peter. Conducted by the long scarlet-robed figure of Cardinal Merry del Val, Archpriest of the Basilica, they admired painted ceilings and gigantic carven cherubs, knelt above the Tomb of the Apostles.

Out in the sunshine once more stiff lines of glittering halberdiers lined the way to the Royal motor cars. From an upper window of the Vatican, the Pope beamed a goodbye, did not wave. Back once more on Italian territory Their Majesties passed saluting soldiery in a uniform that they had not seen for nearly three hours, the black-shirted militia of Benito Mussolini.

Home in the Quirinal Palace Queen Elena commanded a large, nourishing sandwich. Since early morning she had been up preparing for the visit, had had no time to eat. Scarcely had the sandwich arrived than Her Majesty was forced to tuck it away. Cardinal Gasparri, prompt to return the royal visit, had arrived and was waiting audience. Queen Elena swallowed hastily, descended to receive him.

Even then Papal visiting was not over for Vittorio Emanuele. Two mornings later, back to the Vatican went he with three of his children. Crown Prince Umberto, Princesses Giovanna and Maria. Papal Guards, Swiss Guards, Cardinals, Throne, etc., etc.--the whole ceremony was gone through once more.

Exhilarated by the resplendent reconciliation, Pius XI's Palatine guard next day made its first emergence into united Italy, quick-stepped through the streets of Rome to the Piazza di Spagna, where it took part in religious ceremonies.

*The big one is in the Throne Room proper, not used except when many persons are presented.

*H.R.H. is engaged to Belgium's Princess Marie Jose.

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