"Good Friends"

Mad as a wet hen last week was the Christian Century. This most influential U. S. Protestant weekly had been mad the week before, and the week before that, and the week before that. What made it mad was thinking about one thing--President Roosevelt's Christmas appointment of Myron Charles Taylor as his personal ambassador to the Pope. The Christian Century disliked the appointment in the first place, liked it less when it appeared that the President had jockeyed Dr. George Arthur Buttrick, president of the Federal Council of Churches, into a position of apparent sympathy. The Christian Century was further irritated when the executive committee of the Federal Council issued a statement which seemed to approve the appointment, provided it was temporary and unofficial. Last fortnight, when Dr. Buttrick and two other Federal Council executives wired the Christian Century a denial that the appointment had been approved, the still fuming magazine said: "The Federal Council did not approve. Very well. What the 30,000,000 Protestant Americans in its constituency want to know is, Does it disapprove?"

Last week the Christian Century fumed on: "There is only one way out of the confusions and illegalities of this pseudo-ambassadorial appointment: let the President call Mr. Taylor home. If that would be too embarrassing, let him cancel whatever credentials have been delivered through the State Department and give him a letter of introduction which shall in substance say: The bearer is my friend, Mr. Myron Taylor, an eminent and respected private American citizen. Any courtesies extended to him and especially any information that may be conveyed through him regarding plans for peace will be appreciated by the undersigned."

In the Vatican, day after this editorial appeared, Mr. Taylor was received by Pope Pius XII almost exactly as the Christian Century had (however seriously) suggested. In full evening dress and black spats, the Ambassador was ushered into the Hall of the Little Throne (instead of the big hall of the Throne), where Pius XII awaited him. Instead of thrice genuflecting and kissing the papal ring, Mr. Taylor bowed twice as he advanced, bowed again while shaking the Pope's hand. Then the Episcopal steelman handed Pius XII two letters. One was from Mr. Roosevelt to "Your Holiness," in which he introduced Mr. Taylor as "a very old friend of mine ... in whom I repose the utmost confidence." Through Mr. Taylor, the President sent "my cordial greetings to you, my old and good friend." Both letters referred to the Ambassador simply as "a channel of communication."

That was all. Pius XII and Mr. Taylor talked things over, in English, for half an hour. Then the Ambassador departed, began a lengthy round of ceremonial calls in Rome. First of 24 resident Cardinals on Mr. Taylor's list was Gennaro Cardinal Granito Pignatelli di Belmonte, Dean of the Sacred College. Spry at 88, this Prince of the Church returned the visit promptly, arrived at Mr. Taylor's hotel (the Excelsior) flanked by two grooms, who went up in the elevator with him bearing two big lighted candles.

The Vatican's reception of Mr. Taylor, patently designed to minimize his official diplomatic status, cut much ground from under the Christian Century and President Roosevelt's Baptist critics. It also enhanced the position of the Federal Council, which, declining to answer the Christian Century directly, said in its Bulletin this week: "The Federal Council's Executive Committee provisionally accepted the assurances given by the White House . . . but warned that this attitude would not continue if future events should indicate that the appointment led to official diplomatic relations with the Vatican. . . . Surely it would not be to the credit of Protestantism if it should find itself in the situation, at some future time, of having blocked a movement that was able to contribute to the ending of the war and to saving the lives of countless men."

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