The Vatican Pimpernel

by Brian Fleming

  Of course the Italian authorities laid down some conditions. The diplomats representing those countries were now enemies of Italy, and so had to reside within the Vatican and not cross the border into Italy. For exceptional reasons, however, they were allowed to ask for permission to leave the Vatican and go into Rome. If this were granted, they were to be continuously escorted by a police officer. They were not allowed to send any telegrams in code. They were allowed make official communications to their governments but only in respect of their work as envoys to the Holy See. This excluded any reference to matters in relation to Italy. Their families were allowed to go to the seaside during hot weather, visiting the resort at Fregene. The diplomatic cars could leave the Vatican and go straight out to Fregene without going through the city centre and so avoid any embarrassment to the Italian Government.

  By contrast the Irish representatives were there on behalf of a neutral country and so did not have to move into the Vatican. The Irish Minister at that time was Dr T. J. Kiernan. Thomas Kiernan was born in 1897 in Dublin and educated at St Mary’s College, Rathmines and University College Dublin. He joined the Civil Service in the offices of the Inspector of Taxes in 1916 and was stationed in Galway from 1922 onwards. There he met his future wife, Delia Murphy. They became engaged a couple of years later. Both sets of parents disapproved of the engagement. It is easy to understand why the parents were concerned that this might not be an ideal match as the two had completely different personalities. Kiernan at that stage had already taken his Master’s and intended doing a Ph. D. with a view possibly to taking up an academic career. Delia Murphy on the other hand had no interest in such a career and was very much into the social life of Galway. She was, even at that young age, a noted singer. Despite the disapproval of their parents, they got married in February 1924 at University Church in Dublin. Sadly, neither set of parents attended. In April 1924 Kiernan took up an appointment in London as Secretary to Commissioner McNeill in the High Commission Office. He completed his Doctorate at London University.

  It is fair to say they were an odd couple. A friend at that time, the distinguished civil servant and author León Ó Broin, noted the contrast:

  I found him gentlemanly, courteous and desperately discreet. He was a retiring quiet man who smoked incessantly and I would say highly strung. He was very good looking, almost effeminate; and she was handsome, too, but bustling, almost rough. I wondered how they fitted into the Embassy scene abroad.1

  Another friend, the actor, Liam Redmond, observes:

  Delia was an extrovert, she liked people who had the same openness as herself, and they liked her. Women with social pretensions and prissy men did not care for her. She just thought such people ridiculous and, typically she would seek out someone who was less hidebound by convention with whom she could have a bit of ‘craic’. If possible at all, she would start a sing-song and soon she would have everyone around her singing along in the chorus.2

  However their different strengths were to prove useful in the diplomatic service. She was a very well organised and generous hostess whereas her husband was not at all keen on entertaining. As her future son-in-law remarked some years later:

  She was well able for the entertaining side of diplomatic life and I could imagine her taking on anything. I could imagine, however, stuffy formal occasions being very trying for her, but then she could get a laugh out of those. She was totally unaware of any social or class distinction.3

  As the years passed, Kiernan’s career took a few interesting turns. The move to London had meant a transfer from Finance to Foreign Affairs and then in the mid 1930s he was transferred again to the Department of Post and Telegraphs on taking up an appointment as Director of Programmes at Radio Éireann. In the meantime, his wife was becoming increasingly well known as a singer and she had begun to record songs which were released by HMV later in that decade. She was encouraged in developing her musical career by Count John McCormack and the famous soprano, Margaret Burke Sheridan, and undoubtedly her husband’s role as Director of Programmes was of assistance. Kiernan was a man of great integrity so it is unlikely that he ever asked anyone to play her music. At the same time, the fact that he was Director is likely to have influenced the selection of music in Radio Éireann. At one of the concerts she gave during those years we see an early example of her courage. She was singing at a concert in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, in April 1941 when the German bombers arrived. The Irish News reports:

  The raid revealed many heroes and heroines among quite ordinary people in the city. The bravery of Delia Murphy, wife of Dr Kiernan, Director of Radio Éireann, Dublin, during the height of the blitz, has been the subject of much discussion in Belfast. She was singing at a céilidhe in a large city hall. As bombs rained down, many of the women present became fearful of the consequences. Miss Murphy, however, remained perfectly cool, and kept singing continuously, asking those present to join her.4

  Shortly after that, there was another significant change in her husband’s career when he was appointed as a member of the Diplomatic Service in October 1941 to what was seen to be a very important post: Minister Plenipotentiary to the Holy See.

  The Irish Government policy throughout the War was to remain neutral. Throughout this period the Taoiseach (Prime Minister), Éamon de Valera, also occupied the position of Minister for External Affairs (now Foreign Affairs). His chief adviser was Joseph Walshe, Secretary of the Department of External Affairs. In the early stages of the War, Walshe was of the view that Germany would almost certainly win:

  Britain’s defeat has been placed beyond all doubt. France has capitulated. The entire coastline of Europe from the Arctic to the Pyrenees is in the hands of the strongest power in the world which can call upon the industrial resources of all Europe and Asia in an unbroken geographical continuity as far as the Pacific Ocean. Neither time nor gold can beat Germany.5

  (July 1940)

  So, while at an unofficial level Walshe was willing to co-operate with the British, he saw it as prudent from the Irish point of view to stay neutral. This view coincided with the Taoiseach’s. Aside from any political considerations, the country was in no position to engage in any serious level of conflict. The army had 7,600 members and suffered from a serious shortage of equipment. The Navy had two vessels and three motor torpedo boats. The Air Corps was similarly equipped. At the beginning and during the early years of the War, Walshe maintained his pessimistic view of the situation.

  However, as the War progressed, there is no doubt that assistance was given to the Allied side at an informal level, including the sharing of intelligence and the granting of permission for Allied aircraft to fly over Irish territory in north Donegal to give them more direct access to the Atlantic. As time went by, the Irish authorities distinguished between operational and non-operational flights. By implementing this policy they ensured that most British and American planes which landed on Irish soil were allowed to leave as these were interpreted as being non-operational flights. By contrast, it was highly unlikely that any German plane would make a flight across Irish soil that would qualify as non-operational. These policies, however, were governed by strict censorship arrangements which were then in operation in the country and so were not generally known. As regards activities abroad, the Government was very anxious that the policy of strict neutrality would be observed. Instructions were sent out to staff working in the diplomatic service to ensure that this policy of neutrality was implemented.

  The Taoiseach wishes to remind all our staffs abroad, and this also applies to wives, that imprudent and un-neutral expressions of views reach places for which they are not intended and might have serious repercussions on the results of the policy of neutrality which the Government has pursued as the only means of preserving the independence of the nation and the lives of the people … The Taoiseach requires from all the strictest adherence to the foregoing instruction.6

  (14 June 1941)

  By then, the Government had secured an undertaki
ng from the German Minister that his country’s intention was not to violate Ireland’s neutrality and above all not to invade Ireland. Minister Kiernan was careful to implement the Taoiseach’s instruction to the letter. For example, in one of his reports back to the authorities in Dublin (27 March 1943), he comments:

  I have met, socially, the Diplomats of the Axis and Allied Countries in about equal measure and have been careful to avoid giving any impression of stressing social acquaintance in any direction.7

  The other senior Irish diplomat in Rome was Michael MacWhite, who was Minister at the Irish Embassy to the Italian Government. Michael MacWhite was born at Reenogreena near Glandore in West Cork on 8 May 1883. His father died in 1900 when Michael was seventeen. At that stage he came to Dublin to sit an examination for the British Civil Service and, during his visit to the city, met Arthur Griffith. They became lifelong friends. MacWhite was successful in the examination and moved to London to take up a position. At the age of eighteen he was Secretary of the Irish National Club in London and very well regarded in Irish circles there. He left London in the early years of the last century and did some travelling. He fought for Bulgaria in the first Balkan War in 1912, then joined the French Foreign Legion in 1913 and subsequently saw action in France, Greece and Turkey. He was wounded at Gallipoli and Macedonia and received the Croix de Guerre three times for his courage in battle. Following the war, he returned to Dublin and contacted his old friend Arthur Griffith with an offer to assist in the setting up of the new State. As a result, he became one of the founders of the Department of Foreign Affairs and saw service in various countries including the US. He was appointed to Rome in 1938. Clearly Arthur Griffith held Michael MacWhite in high esteem and indeed the evidence suggests he had plans to encourage the Corkman to become involved in active politics with a view to filling the role of Minister for External Affairs. Unfortunately, the premature death of Griffith in 1922 meant that these ideas never came to fruition.

  2

  A Young Priest in The Vatican

  Hugh O’Flaherty was born in February 1898. His father, James O’Flaherty, was from the Headford area of Galway and joined the Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) in 1881 at the age of about nineteen. (He is listed as ‘Flaherty’ in the records.) Having served for short periods in Longford and Mayo he moved to take up duty in Cork in 1885 where he served until 1897. During the latter years of his placement there he was assigned to the barracks at Glashykinlen. While there he met Margaret Murphy whose family farmed at Lisrobin, Kiskeam near Boherbue in County Cork. They got married in June 1897 and the following month they moved to live in Kerry as he had been transferred to a new posting in Tralee where he served for a number of years before being transferred subsequently to Killarney.

  The tradition in the Murphy family, as indeed in many others at that time, was for the expectant mother to return to her maternal home so that her own mother could assist with the birth, particularly in the case of the first born. Accordingly, Hugh O’Flaherty was born in Cork. However, he would insist for the rest of his life that he was a Kerryman through and through (although he adopted a neutral position between Cork and Kerry, at least for a few minutes, when on one occasion he was honoured with the invitation to throw in the ball at a Munster Final).

  James O’Flaherty resigned from the RIC in 1909 to take up the position of caretaker and caddy-master at the Killarney Golf Club which was then located at Deerpark on lands donated by Lord Kenmare, the major landlord in the area. The O’Flaherty family lived in the front lodge on the property, so essentially they had access to the golf course every day. This is where Hugh’s lifelong love affair with the sport of golf commenced. He turned out to be fairly expert at the game, managing to get his handicap down to low single figures, close to scratch.

  In 1913 Hugh found himself involved as a witness in a court case. Three women came to hold a meeting in Killarney as part of the suffragette movement. They applied for permission to use the Town Hall but were told it was not available. They got a similar response from Lord Kenmare when they applied for permission to use the Golf Clubhouse, so they ended up holding their campaign meeting in the open air. The day after the meeting, the Golf Clubhouse burned down. James O’Flaherty gave evidence that he went to bed shortly after 11.00 p. m. and when he woke at 5.00 a. m. the clubhouse was burning. Hugh gave evidence that the Club Secretary left at 6.30 p. m. the previous evening and there was no sign of any fire. He also said that he found a suffragette emblem on the premises. The club was awarded damages more or less to the full amount they sought in court.

  At the age of fifteen Hugh secured a Junior Teaching Assistant post in the Presentation Brothers School there. Subsequently, he won a scholarship to teacher training but failed his Diploma examinations, most likely due to a bout of illness which interfered with his studies towards the end. However, during all of this time his ambition was to join the priesthood. He was concerned that the pursuit of this vocation would place additional financial hardship on the family and was nervous of approaching his father on the matter. He decided that the best course of action was to enlist the assistance of his only sister, Bride, who, it would seem, was ‘the apple of her father’s eye’. He need not have worried. When Bride approached her father, his response was, ‘I would sell the house to make a priest of him.’

  He successfully applied to Mungret College in Limerick which was an institution run by the Jesuit Order preparing young boys for the priesthood on the missions. He joined Mungret in 1918. While he made excellent progress in his studies, he was more noted for his prowess in the sports area: golf, handball, hurling, boxing and swimming were among his favourite pastimes.

  This was a difficult period in Irish history and the young students in Mungret were well aware of the various atrocities being committed by the occupying British forces at that time. Indeed, O’Flaherty’s father resigned from the RIC, like many of his colleagues, rather than find himself in confrontational situations with neighbours while fulfilling his duties. Hugh himself had a brush with the law in 1921. He and two of his colleagues had walked from Mungret into Limerick to pay their respects at the houses of two prominent citizens who had been shot the previous night. On their way home, all three were arrested and held, until released at the request of the Rector of Mungret College who had been tipped off that his students were in difficulty.

  Later in 1921, O’Flaherty was sponsored by the religious authorities in Cape Town, South Africa, and sent to Rome to continue his studies. He was assigned to the Propaganda College whose objective was to prepare young men for work in the missions. During his time there he distinguished himself academically and he qualified in 1925. He was ordained by Cardinal van Rossum on 20 December 1925 and celebrated his first Mass the following day.

  His correspondence home to a range of family members during these years highlights the characteristics and values which he brought to bear on his subsequent work. Particularly noteworthy are his humility, a gentle nature, care and concern for others (most particularly his parents), the strength of his vocation, a sense of humour and a willingness to help anyone – whether relative, friend or distant acquaintance – who might be visiting Rome. In addition of course he kept his family up to date on his developing career and was always anxious to hear news of home. For example, he wrote to his sister in July 1925 regarding his success in the examination for the Licentiate in Theology (L. S. T.):

  I just ‘flucked’ [fluked] through and no more – the narrowest shave I ever had … I was fortunate to slip through … I went in for the exam in the evening … with a cold perspiration all over because five went in that morning and only one got through the ordeal with success! Even the two Irishmen before me fell and here was I the sole hope of old Ireland and Mungret going in to try and lift the flag from the dust. Four professors were before me but only three can examine. For the first two I did splendid thanks to the prayers of many friends and St Theresa. But the third went well for half time and he glued me to the chair with
rockers and the others helped him to crush and reduce the points which were mine in the beginning … However, they gave me the Degree and I have it.1

  He contrasts his success in the Degree examination and the consequent entitlement he now had to place three letters after his name with the importance of his vocation:

  But there are also three letters before Hugh! ‘Rev’ after July 12th. It was a great day and as usual when I am happy and the Lord showers blessings on me, then instead of laughing and thanking Him I cry, which of course is mother’s weakness.2

  He then advises his sister that he was thinking of going on for a Doctorate in Theology.

  Though it seems an impossible thing … Father H. J. is nicer than Doctor H. J. so what was I to do. The Rector decided the question without knowing it. I was taken from my own fellows and made Prefect of twenty-seven of the liveliest wires in the house and so busy that I have not seen any of the papers Chris sent.3