“For?”
“Sinners,” Deane said.
“Like you,” Warburg said with a slow smile.
Deane again thought of Jane Storrow. He said, “In point of fact, yes.”
After a moment Warburg asked, “What will you do now, Kevin?”
Deane shrugged. “I’ve written the whole thing up. A report. The whole damn thing. Accusatio. Italian for J’accuse.”
“Report for whom? Clark was right. Henry Luce wouldn’t touch it.”
“I’m giving it to Spellman.”
“He’s the Pope’s lapdog.”
“I know. And to the Pope’s Doberman pinscher—I’m giving it to her, too. It’s all I can do.”
After a moment’s thought, Warburg said, “Roncalli.”
“What?”
“Archbishop Roncalli.”
“The papal nuncio?”
“You know what he did for us in Budapest. He’s still helping us. The only Catholic bishop in Europe who has agreed to the return of Jewish children.”
“What children?”
“The ones who were hidden by Catholics when their parents disappeared. Most were subsequently baptized, but Roncalli accepts that they are still Jews. Orphans, obviously. To let the Jewish community take care of them, he has to operate under Vatican radar. The guy has guts. Get your report to Roncalli. Forget Spellman.”
Deane took this in, then said, “I’ll get it to both of them. Roncalli to do something, maybe. Spellman because I owe him the truth.”
“Spellman will screw you.”
“Nothing he can do will touch me, David. I’m beyond that bullshit. I apologize for it.”
Warburg gently put Marguerite’s arm aside and stood. From her bag he took the folded white cloth with black stripes and held it out to Deane. “Would you bless this for me?”
“What?” Deane stood.
“This tallit.”
“I know what it is. But surely, I—”
“Who has been my rabbi, Kevin, if not you?” Warburg held Deane’s eyes.
Deane took the shawl, opened it, let its folds and fringes fall from his left hand. His right hand hovered above. After a long silence, the priest said, “Blest art Thou, Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Blest art Thou. From Thy goodness comes this tallit with its tzitzit. May the one who wears it do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with Thee.”
Deane lifted the shawl, kissed it, and, with Marguerite helping, draped it across Warburg’s shoulders. Firmly pressing Warburg’s upper arm, Deane said, “Through . . .” But he paused, the point in every blessing at which a priest invokes the name of Jesus and signs the cross. Instead, he said, “Through Thy commandments we are sanctified.” Then he added “Amen,” a word that David and Marguerite softly echoed.
Author’s Note
The lines of this book are fiction, but the dots they connect are history, from the War Refugee Board to the Vatican ratline. The novel’s main characters and their story are inventions of my imagination, though nothing in the account contradicts what happened in Rome at the end of World War II. If actual events or figures are referred to, it is in ways consistent with the historical record.
Many years ago I began a novel set in wartime Rome. Realizing that I knew too little about the true relationship between Christians and the Holocaust, I abandoned that work. Instead, in nonfiction, I took up the question of the Church’s long conflict with the Jewish people. I acknowledge all of the scholars, religious figures, and dialogue partners whose work has informed my own over the years. Christian self-criticism for the crimes of religiously justified anti-Semitism has been powerful in the decades following the war. It was advanced by no one more forthrightly than Pope John XXIII, who, as Angelo Roncalli, was papal nuncio to Turkey during the Holocaust. His brave support of Jewish survival is noted on the margins of this novel. My conceit is that Monsignor Kevin Deane forwards a copy of his final J’accuse to Roncalli. In fact, Roncalli knew enough of the Church’s failures to force a reckoning with them as Pope. For that, above all, I acknowledge John XXIII.
I am grateful to the many people who helped me with this book. Donald Cutler was the first person with whom I discussed it, and a first reader. His support, over many years, remains precious. Early readers of my first drafts included Bernard Avishai, William Phillips, and Roberto Toscano, each of whom helped me in important ways. Thank you, dear friends.
Thanks to my colleagues and students at Suffolk University in Boston, where I am privileged to be a scholar-in-residence. I especially acknowledge Dean Kenneth Greenberg, Fred Marchant, George Kalogeris, Jennifer Barber, Gregory Fried, Bryan Trabold, Nir Eisikovits, Marilyn Plotkins, Wesley Savick, and my fellow scholars-in-residence, Robert Brustein and David Ferry. As an associate of the Manhindra Humanities Center at Harvard, I have received generous support from Homi Bhabha, Mary Halpenny-Killip, Kiku Adatto, and Michael Sandel. At Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, my editor and friend Deanne Urmy brought this book to life. Ashley Gilliam and Larry Cooper aimed their laser focus on the manuscript, helping improve it a lot. The Houghton Mifflin Harcourt team brought the book to the world with style. I am profoundly grateful to you all. And thanks to Tina Bennett for sage advice.
At the center of my life and work is my family. Patrick, Lizzy, James, and Annie define my happiness and hope. My wife, the novelist Alexandra Marshall, deserves special thanks for being my first and most careful reader. But that’s the least of what she gives me. I dedicate this novel to Lexa, with love.
Among the works from which I drew instruction for this novel are:
Aaron, Mark, and John Loftus. Unholy Trinity: How the Vatican’s Nazi Networks Betrayed Western Intelligence to the Soviets. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992.
D’Este, Carlo. Fatal Decision: Anzio and the Battle for Rome. New York: HarperCollins, 1991.
Eizenstat, Stuart E. Imperfect Justice: Looted Assets, Slave Labor, and the Unfinished Business of World War II. New York: Public Affairs, 2003.
Godman, Peter. Hitler and the Vatican: Inside the Secret Archives That Reveal the New Story of the Nazis and the Church. New York: Free Press, 2004.
Gruber, Ruth. Haven: The Dramatic Story of 1,000 World War II Refugees and How They Came to America. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2000.
Hilliard, Robert L. Surviving the Americans: The Continued Struggle of the Jews after Liberation. New York: Seven Stories Press, 1997.
Judt, Tony. Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945. New York: Penguin, 2005.
Katz, Robert. The Battle for Rome. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003.
Kertzer, David I. The Pope and Mussolini. New York: Random House, 2014.
Morgenthau, Henry, III. Mostly Morgenthaus: A Family History. New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1991.
Phayer, Michael. Pius XII, the Holocaust, and the Cold War. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007.
Wyman, David S. The Abandonment of the Jews. New York: Pantheon, 1984.
Zimmerman, Joshua D., ed. Jews in Italy under Fascist and Nazi Rule, 1922–1945. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.
Zuccotti, Susan. The Italians and the Holocaust. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1988.
About the Author
JAMES CARROLL is the author of best-selling novels, including Mortal Friends and Prince of Peace, and his nonfiction books include the National Book Award–winning An American Requiem, the PEN/Galbraith Award winner House of War, and the New York Times best-selling Constantine’s Sword. He is a distinguished scholar-in-residence at Suffolk University in Boston, where he lives with his wife, the novelist Alexandra Marshall.
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Warburg in Rome Page 39