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There is a press around the door as the Pope moves to leave; people rush forward to talk to him again. But his valet has already placed a small white fur cape around his shoulders, and the chamberlains wait impatiently. A last smile, and he is gone.
1,200,000 Servicemen. Thus went a typical recent group audience at the Pope's summer residence (where he stayed until the end of November). The proceedings are similar at the Vatican. There are several categories of audiences: private, for VIPs; special, for groups of six to a dozen; baciamano (literally, kiss-the-hand), for groups from two dozen to a hundred; general, for groups in the thousands (sometimes held in St. Peter's Basilica). This year, the Pope has seen a total of 700,000 people. Total for the Holy Year of 1950 with its great mass audiences in St. Peter's Square: close to 3,000,000.
Almost any congress held in Rome is received by the Pope. During the last six weeks, the Pope received more than 20 groups, ranging from the Italian National Convention of Professional Nurses and Hospital Assistants to the American Society of Travel Agents. To such audiences the Pope usually makes a 15-minute speech, discussing their profession or aims in glowing terms, but always with some moral admonitions. Afterwards, he mixes with the group. People push and jostle toward him, eager for a word. Some hand him a white zucchetto (skull cap), and he puts it on, giving the visitor his own; somehow, during this hat-switching, he manages to look completely dignified. Many bring rosaries for him to bless. Once, a U.S. Congressman fumbled for a box of religious medals, instead came out with a pack of Chesterfields; an Italian, in the same situation, produced a Communist Party card.
Since the war, the Pope has received more than 1,200,000 U.S. servicemen, at least half of them non-Catholics. Once he welcomed 60 sailors from the U.S. Sixth Fleet. After the Pope's speech, a chief petty officer suddenly broke out with "Waddya say, boys? Three cheers for His Holiness!" The "Hip, hip, hooray ... His Holiness!" rattled the crystal chandeliers.
In talking to people, he goes easily from one language to another (Italian, English, French, German, Spanish, Portuguese). He has a memory for people that any politician would envy. He also displays an extraordinarily close knowledge of the countries they come from. He concentrates intensely on each visitor, even if he speaks to him for only a few moments, showing that all are important to him. Few visitors have come away without being moved. What moves them is the feeling he seems to have for people and the world, a feeling variously described as sympathy, kindness, or (perhaps more accurately) love.
Roman Boyhood. Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli was born in 1876, five years after Communism's first major appearance in Europe, the bloody Paris Commune. The Pacelli family had served the Holy See for two centuries: his father was dean of the Holy See's lawyers. Eugenio, a shy and serious child, was early drawn to religion. With candlesticks, tablecloths and saints' pictures begged from his mother, he played at celebrating Mass. Once, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, he answered: "I would like to be a martyr—but without the nails."