"Habemus Papam"

For nearly two thousand years the Roman Catholic Church has waged an unending spiritual war. Against heathendom, against heresy, the Church has not ceased from moral strife. Last week, when its Princes met in Rome to choose a new Pope, the Church's war against heresy--the totalitarian heresies of Left and Right --had reached a critical point.

Watching the Roman scene with eyes of concern was many a non-Catholic libertarian and democrat the world over. For the first time since the 18th Century's Enlightenment, believers in individual liberty found themselves taking the same side as the Roman Catholic Church, the champion of the individual soul--and facing a common enemy. So, while the Cardinals elected a Pope, the whole world watched.

In San Damaso Court, near dusk, a bell clanged. Swiss Guards with flickering torches bustled through the corridors of the Vatican, looking for unauthorized intruders. "Extra Omnes!" cried a dozen masters of ceremonies--"Everybody out!" The heavy bronze door of San Damaso creaked shut. Six keys clicked in its locks, three on the inside turned by the Camerlengo of the Holy Roman Church, three on the outside by Prince-Marshal Ludovico Chigi Albani della Rovere. The papal flag was hauled down, the silken banner of the Chigi family hoisted in its stead. The conclave of 62 Princes of the Church, immured in the Sistine Chapel to elect the 262nd Pope, had begun.

For 18 hours, no sign from the conclave. Then, at noon, the first sfumata--a curl of smoke from the Sistine Chapel chimney --was seen. By the black smoke the watchers knew that no Pope had been elected during the two morning ballots.

About 5:30 p.m. a noisy, excited throng churned into St. Peter's Square in front of the Vatican. What brought the crowd running now was news of a second sfumata. This one, through some mischance, had been first white, then black. But the white smoke meant that there had been an election. The crowd heaved forward as an enormous cloth, bearing the arms of the papacy, was suspended from St. Peter's balcony. Above it appeared a violet-clad form--Cardinal Caccia-Dominioni. Dean of Cardinal Deacons. Into a microphone which carried his words to loudspeakers in the Square, and through Vatican Station HVJ to radio networks throughout the world, the Cardinal said slowly and deeply:

"Nuntio vobis gaudium magnum: habemus Papam. . . ." ("I announce to you a great joy: we have a Pope.") There was a cheer. He continued, spacing his words dramatically: "Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum dominum meum. . . ." ("My most eminent and most reverend lord. . . .") "Dominum Cardinalem Eugenium. ..." A roar rose from the Square, before the Cardinal could conclude: . . . "Pacelli, qui sibi nomen imposuit Pium Duodecimum." At this news that the new Pope, Eugenic Pacelli, Secretary of State and Cardinal Camerlengo, had taken the name of his predecessor and mentor, the crowd set up a hum and buzz. Then, as excitement gave way to pious fervor, the throng, with apparent spontaneity, burst into a hymn, Christus Vincit.

On to the balcony of St. Peter's, as twilight turned to darkness, stepped a tall, lean, greying man in white, wearing an ermine-bordered red cape. Pope Pius XII --whose 63rd birthday it was--raised his hand in the gesture of a blessing urbi et orbi, "to the city and the world."

Immediately after his election, Pius XII had received the first "obedience" of the Sacred College: each Cardinal in turn had knelt before him, election bent over the cross embroidered on his slipper. Returning from the balcony to the Sistene Chapel, he accepted a second "obedience," then on his throne received the homage of the papal household--including two of his nephews, Giulio and Marcantonio Pacelli, members of the Noble Guard.

With the conclave rapidly disbanding and the Vatican returnin to normal life, the Holy Father went to the luxurious apartment which he had occupied as Secretary of State and which had been considered his "cell" (given the number 13) during his conclave. He telephoned his sisters Elizabella and Giuseppina told them his election gave them his blessing. He visited a devoted friend who had been ill during the conclave--Francesco Cardinal Marchetti-Selvaggini. the ailing Prince raised himself to bow, murmering: "Holy Father. . . ." But the Pope said: "Ah, not for tonight. . . . Let me still be your Eugenio to my Francesco."

At 10 p.m. the Servant of the Servants of God weary, went to bed.

Election. Extraordinary in nearly every way was the election of Pius XII. He was the first Secretary of State to be elected since the office took its present form, more than a century ago; the first Cardinal of the Curia (as distinct from an Archbishop) in a century; the first Roman in two centuries; the first Pope to be elected on voting day, and the second to be elected in only three ballots. For this multiple breaking of precedent there were several reasons. Cardinal Camerlengo Pacelli had been known to hope that the conclave would be short, to show the world the Church's solidarity in time of crisis. During the wait for over seas Cardinals, there had been more time for preliminary discussions than at any previous conclave. In those discussions the name of Pacelli, who had been assured of some "courtesy" votes on early ballots, loomed increasingly large, especially in the minds of the non-Italian Cardinals.

Despite the theoretical secrecy of the conclave, newshawks found it possible to report something of what happened. On the first ballot, Cardinal Pacelli received 35 votes, the scattered remainder representing three types of candidacies: a diplomat (Cardinal Maglione), a purely elected spiritual since leader the office (Florence's took its Cardinal present dalla spiritual leader (Florence's Cardinal dalla Costa), a non-Italian (Quebec's Cardinal Villeneuve). On the second ballot, Cardinal Pacelli received 40 votes, only two short of the required two-thirds majority.

Before the afternoon's voting, Cardinal Pacelli calmly paced a corridor, reading his breviary. Then, after conversing with a colleague, he stumbled, fell headlong down a short flight of steps, arose bruised and shaken. Shortly thereafter followed a third vote, and the lengthy, ceremonial reading of the ballots. When Cardinal Pacelli, seated under his baldachin (canopy), heard his name pronounced for the 42nd successive time, he suddenly hid his face in his hands. The reading continued. The Secretary of State received 61 votes -- all but his own.

Statesman. Eugenio Pacelli as early as 1935 denounced the growing "superstition ot race and blood." Pius XI was at pains to send his closest collaborator on many missions, often by airplane--to Eucharistic Congresses in Buenos Aires in 1934 and Budapest in 1938, to Lisieux, France in 1935, to the U. S. on a transcontinental "vacation" tour in 1936.* Thanks to these farflung travels, the new Pope was known to immense numbers of people, Catholic and non-Catholic. The world saw in Pope Pius XII a Catholic linguist (he speaks nine tongues, most of them fluently); a Catholic diplomat, who would steer the Church's course with astuteness and delicacy; a Catholic scholar, and one of the saintliest of men.

As a Catholic statesman, born of a noble (but not rich) Roman family which had furnished functionaries to the Holy See for two centuries, Eugenic Pacelli rose swiftly. During the World War he was Nuncio at Munich, a channel through which went many diplomatic negotiations, including Pope Benedict XV's famed peace proposals. By the time he returned to Rome in 1929 to accept his red hat, Cardinal Pacelli had arranged papal concordats with Bavaria, with Prussia. Two months later he succeeded aging Cardinal Gasparri as Secretary of State.

"We Invite." Pius XII does not smoke, eats sparingly, drinks little wine. He has been accustomed to vacation yearly in Switzerland or in Italy's Montecatini. He keeps his lean, six-foot frame in condition by exercising in a completely equipped gymnasium in his Secretary of State's apartments--from which, presumably, he will move as soon as the late Pope's living quarters, two floors above, are redecorated. On his first day as Pope, Pius XII rose at 6 a.m., shaved himself with his electric razor, celebrated Mass, breakfasted on coffee and rolls, then embarked upon a busy day during which his only diversions were a motor ride in the Vatican gardens, a brief walk by himself.

In the Sistine Chapel the Holy Father received the third of five "obediences" from the Cardinals,/- delivered a brief address, which was broadcast. Pius XII invoked blessings not only upon all Catholics, but with highest tact declared: "In this solemn moment our thoughts run also to all those who are outside the Church, to those who will be pleased to know that the Pope raises for them . . . prayers and wishes for every good. . . . We invite everybody to peace of conscience, tranquil in the friendship of God, to peace of families . . . to peace among nations through mutual, brotherly assistance, friendly collaboration and cordial understandings for the superior interests of the great human family. . . ."

* See p. 62.

/- The last: at his coronation on March 12.

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