The Vatican Pimpernel

by Brian Fleming

  The Kiernans were home on holidays during August 1946. Monsignor O’Flaherty was also in Ireland at that time. All three were invited to a lunch by a Fr Campion who was then a priest stationed in Kill, County Kildare. Also invited was the young Dublin singer, Veronica Dunne, whom the priest had recognised as having exceptional talent. She came along with her mother. Fr Campion was anxious that Delia Murphy would hear Veronica singing, which she did during the course of the afternoon. All the company agreed that further training was the next appropriate step to take but the question arose as to where. At that stage, most of the major capitals in Europe had been virtually destroyed, so Rome seemed an obvious choice. Monsignor O’Flaherty offered to help and subsequently went out to where the family lived on the Howth Road and met Veronica’s father. It was agreed that Veronica would undertake further training in Rome and the Monsignor would act as a guardian. Fr Campion was a renowned host but Veronica recollects that Monsignor O’Flaherty did not really eat that much. With the scarcities that applied in Rome and his generosity to other people, he had neglected himself and now found that the rich food available at the lunch did not suit him.

  In September 1946 Veronica flew out to Rome, then a twelve-hour journey including various stops. The Monsignor was there to meet her and immediately made clear what was expected: ‘See that plane, there. If I see you with any of those Italian men you will be going straight back.’12 Her first encounter with Roman manhood was interesting. O’Flaherty drove into the city from the airport but had to stop at a Post Office to do some business. Meanwhile Veronica sitting in the vehicle found herself surrounded by some Italian men who were hissing at her, but when the Monsignor returned, he had a ready explanation. ‘They think you are my mistress.’13 Indeed, that may have been the explanation. An alternative possibility was that the Monsignor was trying to hide from her that anti-clericalism was not uncommon in Rome at that time.

  He then brought her to a convent where she stayed for a few months. Subsequently he found suitable accommodation for her with a family. She remembers going around the Eternal City with him. ‘They treated him like a God, not just the Romans but the American, British and French soldiers also.’14 He brought her to all the receptions and got her tickets for the various big events. The first one was a dinner for one of the senior Allied generals, which was held in a major hotel in the city about ten days after she arrived, at which an eight-course dinner was served. She found herself sitting away from the top table beside a very charming and good-looking South African major. He asked her did she like the Roman ice cream. When she explained that she had not tasted any yet, he offered to bring her out for some after the meal. So when the final course was finished she went to seek the Monsignor’s permission. She noticed very early on in her dealings with the Monsignor that, if he got concerned or indeed angry about anything, his eyes seemed to widen, magnified by the glasses he usually wore. On this occasion his eyes widened but also he scratched his head in curiosity as he could not understand why she needed ice cream after an eight-course dinner. Eventually, he gave permission with the instruction that she be back in plenty of time so that he could leave her home and return to the Vatican before eleven o’clock. Unfortunately, she was late back, not arriving to the hotel until about a quarter to eleven.

  ‘Do you realise now I will be late back to the Vatican and I will have to climb over a big wall in order to get home.’ ‘Sure Monsignor’, she replied, ‘with your long legs, you will be well able to do that.’15

  Veronica stayed in Rome for nearly four years and they established a wonderful relationship. The arrangement was that she would have lunch with him every Friday and explain what she had been doing. She also might get a phone call every now and again just to check up on her. She quickly found that the Monsignor had so many friends around Rome, particularly the Irish priests, that in fact she had scores of guardians rather than one. She recalls one Friday calling to his home and finding him very sad. It seems that one of the Fascists who was to be executed had asked him to be present and this whole episode disturbed him greatly.

  As with others, he did not talk to her about what he had done during the War. She was aware, however, through meeting so many people who knew him, and held him in such high regard, that he had achieved great things. She also knew that he was still working both for German and Italians who were in trouble with the Allied authorities and for refugees living in various locations around Rome. Each Saturday, he delivered food and provisions to these people. All these were paid for by the Pope and O’Flaherty regularly told her that the Pope had always been a great support to him.

  Gallagher, an Irish journalist, records a cloud over O’Flaherty’s career after the War. As we have already seen, Vatican officialdom at that stage was very much Italian-dominated and he was seen as an outsider. Indeed, it was another 40 years or so before another Irishman secured a similarly high position in the Vatican Curia, the late Archbishop of Dublin, Dermot Ryan. Aside from that of course many working in the Vatican would have been genuinely worried that his activities, if discovered, would have been hugely embarrassing and indeed could have compromised the Pope’s policy of neutrality. Apart from any Italians who may have resented him, he had at least one other very definite critic. On 28 November 1944, MacWhite of the Irish Legation in Rome reports back to Dublin:

  Monsignor O’Flaherty of the Holy Office became renowned during the War as a protector and Guardian of British War Prisoners who had found their way to Rome from Prison Camps. He boasted that considerable sums of money were placed at his disposal for the purpose by Prince Doria who was appointed Mayor of Rome by the Allies for his generosity. O’Flaherty’s activities got known to the Germans who probably made a protest to the Vatican and he was confined to quarters for several months. I have also heard it stated that he acted as an agent for the British Minister to the Holy See in finding shelter, providing identity cards and in other ways aiding British agents and prisoners of war. As a recompense for these services he was recently permitted to go by air to South Africa to visit a diocese to which he is supposed to be attached. On the way, he was conducted to the pyramids and other show places – all presumably at the cost of the British Government.16

  His report some months later in January 1945 is even stronger.

  In three of last Sunday’s papers one could read how an Irish Monsignor deceived the SS by pretending to be a coalman. It has all the appearances of having been contributed by the person concerned who has a mania for publicity. How far it is true, I cannot say, but the implications are that he was the agent of the British Minister to the Holy See, if not one of his spies. It will hardly get him sympathy in the Holy Office.17

  The allegations contained in these two reports vary from the trivial to the serious. It is hardly likely that the Monsignor, who was so understated about his work, went to the bother of placing this report in the newspapers. O’Flaherty wrote no account of his activities himself. He gave just one interview, to the Irish journalist J. P. Gallagher, in 1958. Gallagher recounts that it took him six days to persuade O’Flaherty to give the interview. The Duchess of Sermoneta had similar experiences of O’Flaherty:

  A large volume could be filled with stories of thrilling adventures in which his life was constantly in danger. I know how he gave away practically all the clothes he possessed except those he stood up in, and that night after night, he slept on the floor so that an exhausted man could rest in his bed, but the trouble is that he will not let me write about his own activities and persists in telling me only what other people did. He has a special admiration for the courage of the Roman women who never failed to help him in his work. He said there were many, rich or poor, that he could always count on.18

  These are not the actions of a publicity seeker. Even in the highly unlikely event that he did place this report in the papers, it is hardly a serious charge. It is of course true to say that he spent a lot of his time and energy in helping escapees. In doing this however, he was not acting as
an agent for the British Minister to the Holy See. He was merely following the dictates of his conscience. The suggestion that the trip to South Africa was a recompense for helping British escapees is ill-founded. As we know, this was O’Flaherty taking advantage of an offer of help to continue his work. The most serious charge however is the implication that he might have been a spy. There is no doubt that part of Derry’s work with the organisation related to gathering information and passing it on to the Allies as they approached Rome. There is no evidence anywhere that O’Flaherty was involved in this work, although he was aware of it. Indeed D’Arcy Osborne was aware that such a charge might arise, and in securing the services of a British officer when he did, he was insulating the Monsignor against future criticism. Aside from that, if Derry had needed assistance in this aspect of his work, he had available to him hundreds of trained military personnel. The suggestion that he would ignore those possibilities and choose a priest, who was well known in Rome and who was on the run from the authorities, to do this work, does not stand up to any serious examination. Of course, MacWhite had very justifiable reasons to be concerned regarding the Monsignor’s activities. With his military training it was easy for him to foresee what might happen to O’Flaherty if he were caught. Moreover, there could have been serious implications, in that eventuality, for some of the Irish living in Rome for whose welfare the diplomat felt a keen sense of responsibility.

  Veronica Dunne recalls the Monsignor being quite disillusioned with the politics he experienced in the Vatican. On more than one occasion, he said to her that politics there were worse than elsewhere. She also discerned a serious amount of jealousy among some in the Vatican arising from his fame and popularity around Rome. The very welcome contrast between the straight-talking Veronica and some of those he was dealing with on a daily basis surely contributed to the wonderful friendship that grew up between them. Her view of him is very clear. She remembers his sense of humour. Giving her a ticket for a papal audience one day, he warned her, ‘Watch out for the nuns, they will jump all over you.19 Her recollection is that he was right. Aside from his sense of humour, she particularly remembers his care for her and indeed everyone else. ‘He was a gentle gentleman, he really was … a very clever and a very lovable man … a great, great man.’20

  It has been suggested, from time to time, that O’Flaherty might have been happier in the role of an Irish parish priest. His nephew thinks there is a strong possibility that this is true and that deep-down his uncle might have liked to have been an Irish parish priest dealing with more straightforward people than those he was meeting in the Vatican. He also recalls him dismissing the possibility in a jocose fashion. One time when the Monsignor was at home on holidays, all the family were invited to lunch by Fr Tim O’Sullivan who was then the parish priest on Valentia Island, and a renowned host. A big spread was laid on for lunch with a roast as the main feature. Fr Tim made a great ceremony of carving this roast. The Monsignor, on the way home after the visit, said rather ruefully, ‘I could never have been a Parish Priest in Ireland because I cannot carve.’21

  Danny O’Connor of Cahersiveen also has very fond memories of the Monsignor. They first came in contact when O’Flaherty returned home on holidays from Rome and Danny was assigned to serve Mass for him. To the altar boys of that era, a returning senior cleric usually generated mixed emotions. There was awe at the arrival of this important person which was tempered somewhat by the possibility that he might be a good tipper. Indeed the Monsignor did not disappoint on that front. In relation to the awe it was another matter:‘I suppose I was a bit afraid of him. I soon realised there was no need. He was a very gentle, quiet man.’22 He recalls the Monsignor as having no airs and graces and being a careful, but not ostentatious dresser, wearing a simple soutane with the barest piece of purple under the Roman collar indicating his status as a Monsignor. Indeed, this lack of ‘show’ disappointed the Monsignor’s brother, Jim. He would have preferred Hugh to wear the full purple stock to indicate his elevated status within the Church, and chided him regularly for dressing so conservatively.

  14

  An Unsung Hero

  Early in 1953, Pope Pius XII made Monsignor O’Flaherty a Domestic Prelate which is an honour conferred on priests who have undertaken outstanding work. Six years later he was appointed Head Notary of the Holy Office and from then on, all the documents and decrees published by this, the oldest of the Vatican’s Congregations, carried his name. Meanwhile his friendship with Ottaviani, the Head of the Holy Office continued. Ottaviani had no sight in one eye and very limited sight in the other. Frequently, he and the Monsignor sat down to recite their breviary together with the Irishman reading sections and Ottaviani reciting, from memory, other pieces. O’Flaherty made regular visits home, always trying to avail of an opportunity to visit Croke Park if Kerry had made it to the later stages of the All-Ireland Championship. Because he took his holidays in August, he was rarely home for a Final but usually managed to attend semi-finals. He was so interested in the fortunes of Kerry that Cardinal Ottaviani became engrossed in keeping up to date as to how they were doing although he certainly had never been in Kerry and, almost certainly, had never seen a Gaelic football match. Fr Seán Quinlan recalls meeting O’Flaherty one day in Rome when the Monsignor told him Ottaviani had been sick in bed for a week. To Quinlan’s amusement Monsignor O’Flaherty ascribed the illness of the stern and austere Cardinal to the fact that Kerry had recently been knocked out of the Championship. While undoubtedly his visits home were enjoyable, another series of calls which he made were more interesting. Kappler, the Gestapo Chief, had been arrested and found guilty of war crimes, particularly arising out of the massacre in the Ardeatine Caves. He was sentenced to life imprisonment and placed in a prison at Gaeta half way between Rome and Naples. He had only one visitor during his period there, a monthly caller, the Irish Monsignor. Also, they exchanged letters regularly. These contacts were not universally admired. The Communist newspaper Avanti in its issue of 11 October 1951, comments:

  We learn … that an eminent member of the curia has taken much to heart the fate of Kappler, we cannot be exact if this is because of a charitable Christian Heart or is an assignment for higher hierarchies. It is of course the famous Irish Monsignor Ugo O’Flaherty … he has become Kappler’s number one protector. It turns out that the Monsignor is moving heaven and earth to free the ‘executioner of Rome’ from his imprisonment …1

  By this time MacWhite had retired from his post. Obviously his concern with regard to O’Flaherty’s activities survived in the Embassy after his departure and were shared by at least one other official there who took the trouble to refer this newspaper article back to the Dublin authorities for their attention. As it happens, there is no evidence that the Monsignor was involved in any work to free Kappler. His concerns were more pastoral. The Monsignor baptised Kappler into the Catholic faith some years later.

  Fr Leonard Boyle went to work in the Dominican University in Rome in 1955. He used to buy a daily paper at a news-stand on the edge of St Peter’s Square. Many years later he recalled a conversation with the newspaper seller:

  One day the man said to me ‘what nationality are you’. I said I was Irish and he said ‘did you know Hugh O’Flaherty’. I said ‘yes I did, just casually’, and he said ‘there is the greatest man I have ever met’. I said, ‘how did you know him’. He said ‘I ran this store during the War and this was Hugh O’Flaherty’s post box. He would give me letters and I would do the runner for him and I was in my teens at the time.’2

  While his countryman, MacWhite, was one of a number who clearly were not very impressed with the Monsignor’s activities, O’Flaherty made a far more favourable impression on others. Tittmann describes the various people he and his family got to know in Rome:

  One of our favourites among the clergy was a lively Irishman, Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty of the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office. His activities in finding safe hiding places, both inside the
Vatican and elsewhere, for Allied escaped prisoners-of-war and other refugees from the Germans, made him literally famous. He lived practically next door to us, just outside the Vatican walls, on the Via Teutonica; he often came into Santa Marta on business and delighted us with his countless amusing stories.3

  Tittmann’s eldest son, also called Harold, recalls that ‘O’Flaherty came to dinner with us on several occasions in Santa Marta. I vividly recall his imposing presence (he was a very tall man) and his remarkable sense of humour.’4

  Indeed it is noticeable that the Monsignor got on well with young people generally, including the Kiernan family, and those whom he met in Cahersiveen when on holidays. It was not uncommon in those days for people living near the sea to be quite ignorant of how to swim. He devoted much of the time he spent at home on holidays teaching young people in the locality this very important skill.

  In his account of the battle for Rome the historian Raleigh Trevelyan notes: