American Ambassador's Daughter Chronicles the Pope's Coronation

Just over a month ago Pope Pius XII was crowned on the balcony of St. Peter's before the eyes of thousands and within radio hearing of hundreds of millions.
For those who were fortunate enough to witness the entire ceremony the memory lives on. One of them is Miss Kathleen Kennedy, eldest daughter of the American Ambassador in London, who, with his family of nine, attended the Coronation Mass both in an official capacity and as a personal friend of the Pope.
Miss Kennedy's impressions of the ceremony are exclusively published in the " Catholic Herald."
BY KATHLEEN KENNEDY It .is the voice of the reverent multitude within St. Peter's.
" Viva II Papa ! "
The joyous words lift and swell as the white-clad figure of Christ's Vicar comes nearer, his red-and-gold chair borne on the shoulders of gentlemen robed in purple.
The interior of the basilica seems to glow. Shafts of sunlight strike down from the high windows. But light seems to come from within, too. It is as if all these human hearts give off a radiance. Since long before dawn this vast congregation has been waiting, waiting for that first sound of chanting which will herald the entrance of the Pope. But no one has minded those long hours. They are glad of the privilege to be part of this beautiful and solemn moment hallowed with its two thousand years of tradition and of faith.
it it * *
There is quiet interest as the royal delegates, the dignitaries and officials of various nations and governments, move to their places. My own excitement quickens as I watch the representative of the United States go past.
All here is movement and colour. Details are swallowed up in the breathless impressiveness of the whole picture. There are so many people—crowded together, united in one single thought. And outside are so many more. Patient thousands upon thousands, massed in all the avenues to the Vatican. One seems to sense their presence as they stand throughout the ceremony, which they cannot see, inside St, Peter's. But every one of them is content, humble and proud and happy
* *
" Viva 11 Papa ! "
It is the hearts of the people speaking, And emotion reaches to ecstasy of pure devotion as the princely, still figure passes.
As the procession advances down the aisle the singing of the Sistine Choir is drowned in the tremendous
crescendo of cheering. There is but one thought and that is for the pale and wan figure who, with slow. gentle movement, lifts his hand in the sign of the Cross.
When the procession comes to the crowned statue of St. Peter, it is met by the Pontifical Master of Ceremonies. He bears a long silver wand, at the
top of which is a small brazier. Three times the flax is set on fire. Each time it flickers out the Master of Ceremonies chants " Pater Sancte, sic transit gloria mundi." All earthly existence passes. Even that of Christ's Vicar is only temporary.
The Mass begins. For the greater part of it the Pope, in serenity and dignity, is at his throne. At the Offertory and the Consecration he walks to the high altar. Tall, noble guards, in their glistening Roman helmets, form a ring about it.
it it The clock strikes twelve and, almost to the minute, a sharp command rings through the basilica. It is the Consecration. The guards draw 'heir swords and flash them to the salute, then drop on one knee, sword blades resting on their shoulders. The peal of silver trumpets rings out to announce the coming of Christ on the altar. His coming, not only to the magnificent altar beneath Michelangelo's golden dome, but to every altar, even though the consecrated stone rests on common earth or ice or on a wooden box.
At the end of the Mass everyone goes outside. The square is bathed in a warm blaze of sunshine under a cloudless blue sky. The waiting crowd stretches away towards the Tiber. Windows, balconies and roof-tops are filled with people. And all eyes are focussed on one small spot. It is the central balcony of the fagade of St. Peter's. It is empty save for the throne chair.
Silver trumpets sound again. The Pope takes his place. In the balconies on each side are the Bishops and Cardinals. Cardinal Dominioni removes the tiara from the scarlet cushions and places it upon the Pope's head.
* fir * *
Pius XII rises. The Papal and Italian troops present arms in salute as the Papal anthem is played. The voice of the Holy Father comes clear and rich. His white-gloved hand
motions to bless the half million kneeling before him and to bless the whole world. The great bell of St. Peter's booms out as a signal for all the bells in Rome to start ringing.
The Pope is crowned. The actual ceremony is over, but the remembrance lasts. It cannot fade. Never was Christianity stronger than in the Square of St. Peter's on this morning of March 12, 1939. The enthusiasm for Christ's Vicar was mightier, more spontaneous, than any number of "Hells" from a drilled populace. Here there were no commands issued by authority for waving and cheering. Here it was only the command of the heart.