by Mick Hare
However, David was usually happy to go along with Lisa’s preferences. Happy, that was, until two Hurley sticks and a Hurley ball arrived from Sean’s father in Cork. Sean had written home requesting the items as a result of David’s fascination with Sean’s stories of hurling. Once the Hurley equipment arrived, all David wanted to do was practice his shots and catching skills. It was a difficult skill for a young boy to learn, but within a few months he was striking the ball a good twenty metres distance and twenty- five into the air. Sean would run and catch the ball and strike it back. At the end of a good hour-long session of this, with curious passers-by watching in amused puzzlement, Sean would end the session by agreeing to David Raul’s request to strike the ball as far as he could. Making sure that the area of the ball’s destination was clear of people, Sean would launch massive shots high into the air and well over one hundred and fifty metres distant. David Raul would run, laughing, after the ball and Sean would pretend to race him to it.
On their walks home, sweating and happily exercised, David would say, “You make it fly like a bird, Uncle Sean.”
“Well, you’re nearly as good as me already. One day I can see you playing in an All-Ireland final. But when you do you must promise me that you will play for County Cork.”
“But I’m a German, Uncle Sean,” David laughed. “They won’t let me play for County Cork.”
“When they see the way you can hit that ball they’ll snap you up in a minute!”
Usually, when they arrived back at the Hildberg apartment Grete would let them in and provide drinks and biscuits and listen to David’s excited retelling of their sporting exploits. Often Raul would be at work. The work load for both doctors was heavy and it was a lottery when trying to synchronise rota duties so that they could be free from work at the same time.
As Sean watched mother and son, so obviously happy and secure in their relationship, he would try not to look at Grete and think how beautiful she was. The more he saw of her the more he was becoming fixated on her beauty. The landscape of her face was instantly attractive; her pale smooth skin, her high cheekbones, her curved nose and her full lips. When she smiled, laughed or frowned it was as if a light came on in the room. ‘In fact,’ Sean thought, ‘she would light up even a summer’s day with her smile.’
Whenever he reached this state of infatuation he would thank Grete for the refreshments and arrange to pick David up again the next time he was free.
Ten
1930
One Sunday, on his walk home from mass, for he had kept up his Catholic obligations, he was hailed by a passenger in a car, which pulled up at the curb beside him. When he turned to look in the direction of the caller, he saw that it was Magda Strasser. He had been thinking about Grete and he laughed inwardly when he was immediately struck by the blonde beauty of Magda.
‘I’m beginning to think this is a Sean Colquhoun psychiatric syndrome,’ he mused silently. ‘Everywhere I look I see beautiful women.’
Hugo had climbed out of the driver’s side and was coming around to the pavement towards him.
“Sean,” he called warmly, “I knew it was you when I saw that rustic Irish gait ahead of us on the pavement.”
They both laughed and clapped each other on the arms.
“Come on, Sean,” insisted Hugo, “Climb in. We haven’t seen you in so long. That is the trouble with our busy lives these days. The days and weeks slip by and we don’t have the time to keep up our contacts. You must come to lunch and spend the afternoon with us.”
“Oh, thank you so much Hugo, but I can’t.”
Sean broke away and moved to the car to greet Magda who was leaning out of the window.
“But you must Sean. Wait ‘til you hear who is joining us for lunch and then you’ll change your mind.”
“I am sure it will be tempting, Hugo, but I am expected at the Hildberg’s apartment. They have invited me for lunch and I have promised to take the children to the Tiergarten for a stroll.”
“Adolf Hitler.”
“I beg your pardon?” said a perplexed Sean.
“Adolf Hitler.”
“I thought you said that. What about him?”
“That’s whose coming to lunch!”
“Adolf Hitler?”
“That’s what I said!”
“You’re having Adolf Hitler for lunch and you want me to join you?”
“Let me explain,” Hugo said. “Look, jump in the car and we’ll explain on the way.”
Without having intended to let Grete, Raul and the children down, Sean found himself being ushered into the limousine and swept towards the grand suburb of Wansee with its big family residences and its limousines on the driveways.
On the way there Magda had explained about the lunch party and how they were entertaining Adolf Hitler, the enfant terrible of German politics, as she described him. The Vatican Secretary of State, no less, one Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli was eager to affect a meeting with Hitler given his growth in support throughout Germany. He did not really expect the Nazis to make a great deal more progress but Pacelli is a careful man who likes to anticipate all the possible options well ahead of time.
“But why have they chosen your house as a meeting place? Surely an office in the Reichstag or at the Papal Nuncio,” Sean enquired.
“Tempting as it is to pretend so, they are not in fact coming to see us, although we have known Cardinal Eugenio for some time. He often came to our country estate and rode during his time here as the Vatican’s representative to Germany. He is a very fine horseman. He does his best to get back here at least once a year since his return to Rome to become Vatican Secretary of State. He still likes to ride and enjoys retreating to a Catholic convent in Munich. We are merely acting as facilitators. As you know, Hugo works in the secretariat at the Reichstag. Through his work there and his own Catholicism he has become close to the leader of the Catholic Centre Party, Ludwig Kaas. Ludwig is an unusual individual. He mixes politics and religion being a politician and a Roman Catholic priest. Over the last few years Ludwig has become devoted to the man who, until recently, was the Papal Nuncio here in Berlin; one Cardinal Pacelli. Pacelli was recalled to Rome earlier this year and is now Cardinal Secretary of State for the Vatican. Previously he was in Germany since 1917. He worked furiously to preserve peace and to defend Germany against Bolshevism. He is already being talked about as the next Pope and some even declare him to be a saint.”
“Yes,” said Sean, “I have heard of him. Brother Peter admires him greatly.”
Reflecting on Magda’s reference to “the country estate” Sean realised the Strassers were much higher up in German society than he had realised.
“Brother Peter is close to Cardinal Pacelli. They worked together often and they still meet up at the convent from time to time.”
“I did not know that!” returned Sean.
“So what is Cardinal Pacelli’s business with Adolf Hitler?” Sean asked.
Here Hugo took over from Magda, “The Cardinal is a serious minded diplomat. In the last thirteen years he has negotiated concordats with most of the German states. It is his aim to reach a concordat with Prussia and with the Reich itself. He is probably hedging his bets by wanting to get to know Hitler. Realistically there is little chance of Hitler gaining power. But it may become necessary for the Christian parties to do a deal with him to keep out the Bolsheviks and the Social Democrats. Pacelli works himself to exhaustion to ensure the security of Catholics within the Reich.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” asked Sean. “Surely Hitler is a demagogue. A man of violence. Hasn’t he threatened the Jews with extinction?”
Magda and Hugo laughed.
“You don’t understand German politics, Sean,” said Hugo. “It’s all only talk. Hitler will temper his talk and his objectives when he gets a sniff of power.”
“But I read only this morning in my newspaper that the Catholic Bishops of the Reich have denounced Hitler and the Nazis. They have withdrawn the
right of the sacraments from any Catholic who joins the party or votes for it. Are you telling me there is a split in Catholicism between Rome and Germany?”
“In part that is why Pacelli is here. He has the bigger picture. Perhaps he wants to get a better grasp of Nazism first hand. Anyway, at three o’clock this afternoon they will meet in our humble home. And you my Irish friend will be there to see history as it happens.”
Despite his concerns, Sean was now excited at the prospect of the afternoon to come. He had heard reverential talk of Cardinal Pacelli and now he was to meet him. Hitler was famous and infamous throughout the world. To some he was a clown; to others he was a god; to still others, he was a devil. Now Sean was going to meet him too. Which would he turn out to be?
That night when he recounted his tale to Grete and Raul there were two aspects of the afternoon that stuck in his mind.
“Oh, Sean.” It was Grete as she opened the door of the apartment to him. “We had given up on you. The children are in bed.”
“I know,” Sean answered as he walked along the hallway to the sitting room. “I feel terrible for letting you down, especially the children. But wait ‘til you hear where I’ve been today and, more to the point, who I’ve been with.”
As he told his tale of the afternoon, he was still trying to form his judgements about what he had seen and heard. He had waited with Hugo and Magda for some two hours before the esteemed guests had arrived. Sean could sense the nervous anticipation within his hosts. They obviously felt they were facilitating some great historical moment.
The first to arrive was Ludwig Kaas, the leader of the Catholic Centre Party. Hugo introduced him to Magda and then Sean and the three of them participated in a light conversation while Hugo went out into the hall to welcome a married couple who were special friends of the Strassers and fellow parishioners at their Catholic Church.
There were two servants and they offered wine and canapés. Gentle and polite conversation continued until Cardinal Pacelli arrived with his entourage of three assistant Monsignors. He swept in, his invisible feet beneath his flowing robes making no sound on the thick carpet. It was as if he floated on air.
Sean studied the man as he was introduced to the others in the room. He could not help but be impressed with the man’s air of saintliness. There was an indefinable gentleness that he exuded, which was to do with his ascetic aquiline face and the calmness in his voice. There was also an unmistakeable authority that surrounded him. When he was introduced to an individual he did not offer a handshake; rather he presented his ring which each person dutifully kissed. When Sean bent to kiss the man’s ring he felt close to the Mother Church he had been born and raised within.
Pacelli’s German was excellent and his knowledge of German Catholicism was comprehensive. Sean began to consider the effect Hitler’s arrival would have on the holy atmosphere that had overtaken the room since Pacelli’s arrival. He began to fear that the whole occasion might degenerate into a horribly tasteless mistake. And then, with a shocking suddenness, a servant stood at the door to the room and announced the arrival of “Herr Hitler.”
As this infamous character emerged into sight and strode into the room, Sean felt as if a spell had been broken. The holiness he had been experiencing popped like a bubble. It seemed now as if it had been childish imaginings and here was the real world again. Hugo, playing host, stepped forward and reached out his hand to greet his new guest. Before taking it and shaking it vigorously, Hitler raised his arm in the Nazi salute Sean had often seen on the newsreels. He almost laughed but restrained himself in time. Then Hugo led him straight to Cardinal Pacelli, who did not rise from his seat but offered his ring hand for the politician to kiss.
Sean found himself numbed by the incredulity of the man’s persona. It was a jumble of contradictions. He strode in, obviously well practised in a military style step and in maintaining an erect back and repeatedly whipped at his boots with a riding crop. Yet he brought with him an intangible emptiness. Sean kept thinking, ‘here is the human manifestation of the mathematical zero.’ Yet his pasty face, his raisin eyes and his oily hair gave a simultaneous image of complete ordinariness. Here was the epitome of the school teacher or the bank clerk who had repeatedly failed to achieve advancement.
As Hitler was being introduced to the assembled company, Sean could smell the fresh polish on his knee-length boots. Hovering around him like a faithful collie dog was Gregor Strasser, an administrative official of Hitler’s Nazi Party and no relation to Hugo and Magda. Yet Hitler was obviously awed to be in the presence of Cardinal Pacelli and he dutifully stooped to kiss the proffered ring.
All light conversation immediately ceased and Sean felt an intensity of oppression fall on the room. Pacelli opened the greetings by blessing the assembly and then gave a special blessing to Herr Hitler for the burden of leadership that he carried and a prayer that he could fulfil it to the greater glory of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ and his Holy Mother, Mary.
With that the company regained its seats and the conversation opened. It immediately became apparent to Sean, and from the look on his face, to Hugo too, that the idea of an informal gathering to add a lighter air to this introductory meeting was not going to succeed. The two main protagonists immediately proceeded to serious discussion.
Hitler perched forward on the edge of his armchair, looking like a naughty schoolboy summoned before an all-powerful headmaster and hoping for a light punishment, listening intently as Pacelli began to explain how the Holy Father in Rome bore a deep, loving and lasting concern for his flock in Germany and for all of the German people. The Holy Father had entrusted his humble Cardinal with the task of agreeing a concordat with the German Reich and with its individual state legislatures.
Hitler nodded and concentrated on the Cardinal’s words. When he spoke, he at first made conciliatory noises and spoke fondly of his own Catholic upbringing in a devout family. Pacelli rejoiced that Hitler was indeed a member of the one, true Catholic and apostolic faith.
Hitler went on to assert his belief that too many churchmen misjudged their true purpose. By this he meant that they failed to concentrate their energies on the saving of souls and meddled too readily in matters of social policy. This was none of their business, he asserted, and they should be guided by the Holy Father in Rome to attend to spiritual matters and leave politics to the politicians.
To Sean’s shocked amazement, Pacelli wholeheartedly agreed with Hitler and boasted that the concordat he had negotiated with Mussolini, the Lateran Treaty, had dealt successfully with just such matters. He also guided Hitler to the concordat he had recently concluded with Croatia as evidence of his clear policy of separating spiritual and social activity.
Sean cast his mind back to the worker priests in Ireland and the political role many of them had played in bringing about Ireland’s independence and wondered how they would react to this definition of their mission by the Holy See. But Hitler went on to argue that removing the clergy from the political stage was only part of the issue. All the time he kept glancing at Ludwig Kaas who was a stereotypical example of a politicised clergy; an ordained priest and the leader of the Catholic Centre party.
“There must be no political parties with religious allegiances,” Hitler asserted. “All allegiance must be to the state.”
“We may be able to find agreement on the first part of your statement, my Herr Hitler,” expounded Pacelli, “but as a child of the Roman Catholic Church you know that there are much higher allegiances than the state. There is a greater Kingdom that has been revealed to us through the blood sacrifice of the Creator’s immaculately conceived Son.”