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There are numerous incidental but far-reaching advantages which might accrue to the Italian government as a result of the settlement. Millions of devout Catholics will no longer be taught by their priests that the Italian State is a “despoiler of the Church.” Missionary schools throughout the Near East and the Orient may place additional emphasis on the Italian language, and on Italian history and literature. And the dissemination of a nation’s language opens the road for its merchants. Again, one may guess that Mussolini has his eye on the coveted privilege, now enjoyed by France, of defending Christian interests in Syria and Palestine – a privilege which incidentally gives its holder a good deal of political leverage. If some future French government were to offend the Vatican, the latter might well transfer the privilege to the friendly Italian State.

But what is the Vatican going to do with its little plot of ground to the south west? In what way will the Pope’s liberty and independence be made manifest to the faithful of the whole world? Any answer to this question must be based on speculation. But this much can be said of the measures suggested below: they have been discussed by responsible persons in the course of the recent negotiations; and they would be consonant with the known policies and intentions of the Vatican.

It has always been asserted by Italian anti-clericals that the Pope’s liberty and independence are in no way limited under the Law of Guarantees. It is, they say, true that he no longer has his own posts, telegraph, and railroads. But he may use the Italian mails, wires, and trains freely. He may send and receive emissaries to and from foreign lands without hindrance. His diplomatic pouches transported over Italian soil are respected as scrupulously as would be those of any sovereign on earth.

True, the Vatican replies. But these facilities are granted as privileges, not acknowledged as inherent rights and, therefore, are revocable. Who can say that they might not be limited by some future unfriendly government, or revoked in time of war?

In point of fact, it is not on record that in the last War the Pope’s diplomatic correspondence was interfered with, although there were incidents and mistakes capable of two interpretations. The famous Papal peace appeal, of which the Italian government strongly disapproved, was carried out of Italy in the Vatican diplomatic pouch, by a courier traveling on the Italian railways. Although the German and Austrian ambassadors to the Holy See were withdrawn, emissaries from and to the Pope went to and from enemy countries (via Switzerland) as freely as to and from the Allied nations.

All this is true (overlooking the not very important “mistakes”) yet it might not be true another time. And anyway, as the Vatican has doubtless observed to Mussolini in the course of the recent conversations, there was during the War a deal of recrimination and partisan accusation due precisely to the fact that the Pope’s international status had not been clearly defined. Exactly because he was exercising his diplomatic functions by courtesy of the Italian government, it was never certain what his rights were, or what they would be to-morrow. In the heat of war passion, the Vatican was constantly being accused of overstepping the proper limits of neutrality, whereas, because of the anomalous situation, no limits had ever been defined.

Once admitting that on his five square miles of territory the Pope enjoys unrestricted sovereignty and intangibility, many things become possible. On this ground all embassies and diplomatic missions to the Holy See might be housed and lodged. In case of war in which Italy was engaged, the ambassador of a hostile country would remain as a matter of course. His person and archives would be inviolable simply because they were located on inviolable territory.

But this is not all. Modern science has strangely altered some of the fundamental terms of the Roman Question. Although, even in the event of war, the Vatican would normally send its diplomatic pouches out over the Italian railways, in extraordinary cases the Pope might prefer to radio his secret instructions to his nuncios in code. Pius XI has already accepted from John Hays Hammond, Jr., the gift of a moderately powerful transmitting apparatus (he has long had a receiving set in the Vatican) for scientific experiment. There is nothing to prevent his installing on the new territory a high-power station for practical and diplomatic purposes. There might also be on this five square miles of territory a commodious aërodrome. The Vatican’s diplomatic pouches and the Vatican’s diplomats might travel to their destination in Vatican airplanes. True, it is technically possible for such planes to be shot at by anti-aircraft guns. But such an attack would be nothing short of an act of war. And if the Pope’s claim to inviolable liberty and independence had once been solemnly acknowledged, such an act of war would evoke the condemnation of the entire world.

To sum up the Vatican’s case in the Roman Question, one may fairly say that the Pope claims spiritual (and disclaims political) authority over Catholics throughout the world; but whereas political sovereignties are geographically compact, his is scattered and universal. The Vatican bases its case upon the right of the Pope at all times to exercise his spiritual authority over this widespread and diversified empire, and upon the necessity of his possessing whatever is juridically and materially essential to its exercise.

One need not be surprised to find the radio and the airplane some day included among these essentials. For although the Roman Church is one of the most conservative and perhaps the oldest of living institutions, it is in the world, and, in many of its outward manifestations, changes as the world changes.

¹ In conjunction with the last named, it is amusing to note how a pleasantry has given rise to many a solemn newspaper canard. There is a legend that Pius IX, in his “voluntary imprisonment” in the Vatican, observed that if he was to “enjoy” Castel Gandolfo he would have to fly there. Now that flying has become a commonplace, the sensational press frequently carries a news item to the effect that on such and such a night the Pope secretly took an airplane from the Vatican grounds to spend a few hours at his countryseat.

² But not without a sense of humor. There is an anecdote, apparently authentic, to the effect that Pius XI, passing through the vatican halls, discovered one of his Swiss Guards asleep at his post. He nudged the sleepy trooper and said, in a stage whisper, “Wake up. The enemy is coming.”

³ It is to be noted that the words “temporal” and “sovereign” are being muted in the current discussion of the Roman Question. This is not because either concept has been officially repudiated by the Vatican, but merely because the words retain the connotations of other, and more acrimonious days. The words “manifest” and “independent” convey, in the Vatican’s view, the essence of what was formerly meant to be conveyed by “temporal” and “sovereign.”[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]