Papal Day

"At noon the Pope ate fresh eggs, the gift of Trappist monks," John Gunther, Rome correspondent, hastened to radio to the Chicago Daily News on Holy Saturday (day before Easter Sunday). His evidence was warning to Roman Catholics that Pope Pius XI was a man, no god. They must not, as the ignorant among them are prone to do in their mystic exaltations during Holy Week, imagine Achille Ambrogio Damiano Ratti other than a onetime boy in Milan, onetime Papal Nuncio to Poland, onetime cardinal, now the 260th successor to St. Peter as head of their Church. They are no Egyptians to deify a pharaoh, no Romans to worship an emperor.

Consonant with this last week's luncheon-time report was the detailed chronicle of His Holiness's daily occupations, which the Vatican reported to the North American Newspaper Alliance a fortnight ago:

He rises at about 6:30 a. m. and rings for his personal servant, Cavaliere Malvestiti, whose surname by odd circumstance means "badly dressed." Old companions, they chat in Milanese dialect.

Pius XI says his daily mass in the bedroom where his predecessor Benedict XV died in 1922. (This is the quaint custom of respect which Popes have long paid their immediate predecessors--to pray in the death chamber.) Soon after he attends a second early mass. Then to his private apartments for breakfast of coffee with milk, bread, butter.

At 9:00 a. m. in his private library, he goes into long conference with Pietro Cardinal Gasparri, his secretary of state. Outside the room the Guardia Nobile, the Swiss Guard and a host of pontifical gendarmes move about in symbolical protection of His Holiness. When Cardinal Gasparri leaves, other papal officials enter for conference and instruction. Next come private audiences to royal persons, presidents and many another great one; then audiences to groups of half a dozen to two score persons who in unison receive the Pope's blanket blessings. This part of the day's work ends at 1:45 p. m.

At 2:00 p. m. he eats his second meal prepared by German Servite lay friars, who recently have displaced his old Milanese housekeeper, Linda Banfi, only woman in centuries to have lived in the Vatican proper. She is pensioned now. At this meal, which is light, he likes a helping of rice boiled according to the recipe of Milan cooks; and occasionally a cutlet. He percolates his own coffee and drinks it black. While he lunches thus, prelates on their knees read him his correspondence and extracts from Italian and foreign newspapers. After luncheon he goes to his private apartments for a brief nap.

At 4:00 p. m. he drives through the Vatican gardens-- on week days in a two-horsed carriage, on Sundays and holidays in a motor car. In the gardens is a clumsy copy of the French shrine of "Our Lady of Lourdes." When he reaches this shrine, he descends from his vehicle to pray at it for a few moments. Nearby are cages containing his two pets--an eagle and a green parrot. He prefers the parrot, to which he has taught a few phrases. He feeds them each a morsel and then passes on, daily, for a short walk by himself.

Between 5:00 and 6:00 p. m. he re-enters the Vatican, drinks a cup of percolated coffee, and then receives a few personages in informal receptions.

At 8:00 p. m. he attends the devotion of the rosary which is said by a private chaplain in his private chapel.

At 9:00 p. m. he eats again; has a glass of good wine. He has a four-tube radio receiving set which he likes to dial himself. He prefers musical programs.

No one knows at what time Pope Pius XI goes to sleep. After supper he dismisses everyone; sometimes orders a book from his library--Italian, German, French are equally familiar to him, English a little less so--undresses himself for bed, turns off all the electric lights and other electrical apparatus in his apartments himself, for he has a phobia of fire.