This is part of a longer study about ideas, values and attitudes, which has been going on for longer than I care to think. It is about women and men of passion who were embroiled in their own historical times and influenced by them.

It is designed to bring together women and men in conversation in an atmosphere of mutual interest and respect. It beings together feminism and the Catholic tradition.

The structure which I have adopted for this work is the literary device of the dinner party. Such a setting I thought would enable the humanity and ideas of the people concerned to be highlighted and protected from the obscurity of a dense academic presentation. I decided that a small dinner party of no more than five or six people would provide the best setting in which people could get to know one another to some extent and develop a topic of conversation.

I involved two fictional friends, Monica and Catherine, in the project. Monica is the type who keeps things moving and makes sure we do not dally endlessly over pre-dinner drinks while Catherine is a natural scholar, who has always done her home-work on the background of our guests exceedingly well.

My friends and I agreed that it was our responsibility to provide the venue and promote the conversation of our guests but that it would defeat the purpose of the exercise if we intruded unduly into the conversation.

The following conversation of Virginia Woolf and Pope Benedict XV is based on their writings, with only the necessary adaptation to the dinner party situation. Their conversation initially involves a critique of war focussing especially on the causes of wars and their prevention. This moves on to a consideration of nationalism, the preservation of peace, materialism, the natural law, the common good and relationships between women and men.

Some background information

Pius X, who had died in 1914, had warned of the impending disaster of the First World War; his successor Benedict XV had to face it. The origins of the First World War were rooted in a complex history but, more immediately, they stemmed from the final collapse of the remnant of the Ottoman Empire and the ongoing rivalry and ambition of the key European powers.

The storm clouds of war had been building up during the period of agitation for the vote by women in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. During that time there had developed a strong international network among the principal women activists in the various countries. There were basic philosophical differences, however, among the women who considered themselves feminists. Significantly, for example, there were feminists who supported the war and feminists who were strongly pacifist. Virginia Woolf was both strongly feminist and strongly pacifist.

Introducing Virginia Woolf

Born in 1882 Virginia Woolf was the youngest daughter of Sir Leslie Stephen, a distinguished man of letters. When Stephen's first wife died, he married a widow with children. Virginia was a child of the second marriage.

The Stephens belonged to the reasonably well-to-do, upper-middle and professional class, with the accent on intellectual achievement. In his youth Leslie Stephen had been ordained in order to take up a fellowship at Cambridge but, owing to deist influences, had lost his faith a few years later. His children were raised in a highly principled but agnostic environment.

Virginia was largely self-educated as a result of reading voraciously from her father's well-stocked library, with occasional direction from him. Some home tuition in the classics was also provided. She always resented the fact that she received a second-rate education compared with her brothers, on whom the family resources were expended.

When Virginia was thirteen, her mother died and her first breakdown followed soon after. Indeed, she was to have fragile health throughout her life. Tension in the home was increased by the inability of Stephen to cope effectively with his wife's death, which led him to become querulous and inordinately demanding of his daughters.

When Lesley Stephen died, Virginia with her sister, Vanessa, and brother, Thoby, moved from the family home and ultimately became key members of the Bloomsbury Group, a cluster of friends that lived in close proximity in Bloomsbury. The nucleus of this coterie was a group of young men who had been together at Cambridge University at the turn of the century. Most of them were intellectually outstanding. The economist Keynes, the philosopher Russel and the novelist Forster were part of the group.

Virginia became one of the reviewers for The Times Literary Supplement. However, since she had inherited a small annuity, she was free to work, to read and to travel as she pleased and did not publish her first novel until 1915.

In 1912, at the age of 30, Virginia married Leonard Woolf, of the Bloomsbury Group. He gave up his career in the Colonial Service for her sake. Woolf believed in Virginia's talent and they had a common standard of values. He was especially interested in politics and shared with his wife a concern for social reform.

In the thirty years between Virginia Woolf's marriage and her death in 1941 she wrote fifteen books, including the epoch-making novels, To the Lighthouse and The Waves and the feminist essays Three Guineas and A Room of One's Own. This was apart from innumerable critical articles, essays and stories and a voluminous diary.

Introducing Pope Benedict XV

Benedict XV is the least known of the popes of the twentieth century yet one of the most important. The death of Pius X left the papacy vacant at a crucial time. Fortunately Italy was still neutral and the cardinals from the opposing sides of the war were able to assemble in Rome.

Since Pius X had been incensed at the interference of the Austrian government on the occasion of his own election, early in his reign he had forbidden the cardinals on pain of excommunication to permit any government to exercise a veto in future elections. This of course did not prevent governments from expressing their opinions to the cardinals of their countries.

Early in September 1914 the cardinals elected as pope Giacomo Della Chiesa, Archbishop of Bologna who took the name of Benedict XV in honour of Benedict XIV, who in the eighteenth century had been called from the See of Bologna to the See of Peter.

Giacomo Della Chiesa was born in Genoa of ancient aristocratic stock. Prematurely born, he was always small and delicate and, because of his lack of physical prowess, was somewhat of a disappointment to his father. From his boyhood he was strongly pious, with a deep devotion to Mary. Early he developed the desire to enter the priesthood. At the wish of his father, however, he prepared for the legal profession.

Since his vocation to the priesthood was unshaken, he was finally permitted to pursue his priestly studies. Nevertheless, still under parental pressure, he took courses in Rome which led to a diplomatic career in the service of the Church. In the 1880s he was private secretary to Archbishop Rampolla, then papal nuncio to Spain. When in 1887 Rampolla became Cardinal and Papal Secretary of State to Leo XIII, Della Chiesa continued in his entourage as his right-hand man, though he also engaged in some significant pastoral activities.

After the election of Pius X in 1903, falling from favour in the shadow of Rampolla, he was appointed to the difficult arch-episcopal see of Bologna. There he conscientiously gave of his best and gained the affection of his people. In May 1914 he was created a cardinal.

Della Chiesa brought to the papacy a combination of diplomatic experience, a strong, active piety and skill in leadership. He was reported to be generous, courteous, vivacious yet reserved, punctilious and meticulous, tenacious in purpose and vigorous in action.

Because of his insignificant appearance, Benedict XV was often underestimated by the casual observer. It was heartening to learn that along with a rich amount of human sympathy, he had a close relationship with his mother and sister and had given official approval to the Italian Catholic women's movement and finally supported votes for women. Monica declared this a promising sign.

Some sources reported that Benedict was obstinate, inclined to argue, given to satirical statements and somewhat choleric but without rancour. Catherine suggested that this augured well for the success of our dinner party, since Virginia was coming with a reputation for satirical comment and for being generally skilled in the humour of the ridiculous - in a convoluted way.

Now to the dinner party. Our guests arrived around the same time, Virginia tall and elegant, though dressed carelessly, and Benedict small with one shoulder higher than the other. But once they were seated they were able to converse eye to eye with ease, and neither was afraid to engage the other. In fact each seemed curious to understand the other.

The dinner conversation begins

In the process of introducing the guests to one another I mentioned, that they had both lived through the tragedy of World War I and its aftermath and that both had written on the subject of war. This broke the ice immediately and, as we served pre-dinner drinks, they proceeded to focus on the topic of war, with Virginia leading off.

War

Virginia was obviously appalled at the happenings in First World War Europe and, looking directly at Benedict, observed with considerable anguish: ‘The night, the black night that covered Europe and with no language but a cry ... was not a new cry ... Things repeat themselves it seems. Pictures and voices are the same today as they were 2000 years ago.'[i]

Then she smiled and confided with a combination of bitterness and resignation: ‘I agree with Churchill that while men are gathering knowledge and power with ever-increasing and measureless speed, their virtues and their wisdom have not shown any notable improvement as the centuries have rolled.' (Woolf 188)

Benedict supported this informing Virginia sadly: ‘In 1914 at the beginning of the War, as pope, I could not but be filled with bitter sorrow. What could prevent the soul of the common Father of all from being deeply distressed by the spectacles presented by Europe?'[ii]

Virginia nodded her head in understanding as Benedict elaborated: ‘The combatants were the greatest and wealthiest nations of the earth. They were well provided with the most awful weapons modern military science has devised, what wonder that they strove to destroy one another with such refinements of horror! There was no limit to the measure of ruin and of slaughter.' (Ben. 203)

Looking around the dinner company Benedict asked ruefully: ‘Who would imagine, as we saw them, filled with hatred of one another, that they were all of one common stock, all of the same nature, all members of the same human society? Who would recognise brothers, whose Father is in Heaven?' (Ben. 203)

Virginia agreed but pointed out: ‘Many instincts are held more or less in common by both sexes but to fight has always been the man's habit, not the woman's. Law and practice have developed that difference, whether innate or accidental.' (Woolf 113)

Benedict nodded in agreement.

Virginia observed: ‘There are three reasons which lead the male sex to fight: War is a profession; a source of happiness and excitement; and it is also an outlet for manly qualities without which men would deteriorate.' (Woolf 114-15)

She paused and then consoled us: ‘These feelings and opinions are by no means universally held by all men. The poet Wilfred Owen, killed in the First World War, certainly did not hold them. He pointed out: “Pure Christianity will not fit with pure patriotism.” He left notes for poems on the unnaturalness of weapons, the inhumanity of war, the insupportability of war, the horrible beastliness of war, the foolishness of war.' Her voice trailed off. (Woolf 114)

Benedict nodded; Virginia was clearly on his wavelength.

He confided: ‘I complained long and loud to the combatants about the terrible consequences of their actions - day by day the enormous number of widows and orphans increased; communications were interrupted; trade was at a standstill; agriculture was abandoned; the arts were reduced to inactivity; the wealthy were in difficulties; the poor were reduced to abject misery; all were in distress.' He looked anguished. (Ben. 203)

Monica finally succeeded in moving us into the dining room and as we settled down for our meal Virginia announced: ‘I decry the fact that the majority of men support war and I ask myself the question: What connection is there between the sartorial splendours of the educated man and the photograph of ruined houses and dead bodies?' (Woolf 129)

Benedict seemed startled by the question. Without waiting for a response Virginia speculated on a possible answer to her query, addressing the world of men and focusing on the intrigued Benedict: ‘Obviously the connection between dress and war is not far to seek; your finest clothes are those that you wear as soldiers. The red and gold, the brass and the feathers are discarded upon active service. It is plain then that your expensive, and somewhat unhygienic splendour, is invented partly in order to impress the beholder with the majesty of the military office and partly in order, through your vanity, to induce young men to become soldiers.' (Woolf 129)

Benedict laughed in agreement and confided: ‘As a protest against the War I forbade military chaplains to appear in uniform in the precincts of the Vatican.' [iii]

Virginia responded with a delighted ‘Bravo!'

Determined to pursue her analysis of the causes of war, she observed: ‘From the study I have made of the biographies of men it appears that the professions that men practise seem to make them possessive, jealous of any infringement of their rights and highly combative if anyone dares dispute them.' (Woolf 181)

Looking directly at Catherine, Monica and myself she asked: ‘In another century or so if we practise the professions in the same way, shall we not be just as possessive, just as jealous, just as pugnacious, just as positive as to the verdict of God on Nature, Law and Property as these gentlemen are now?' (Woolf 181)

I felt uncomfortably challenged by Virginia's question.

Mercifully she redirected her attention to Benedict and observed: ‘I also see a relationship between the causes of war and the fear and anger that exists between the sexes. We cannot leave the psychology of the sexes to the charge of specialists. There are two good reasons why we must try to analyse both our fear and your (men's) anger.' (Woolf 252)

She paused and added with deliberation: ‘First, because such fear and anger prevent real freedom in a private house; second, because such fear and anger may prevent real freedom in the public world: they may have a positive share in causing war.' (Woolf 252)

Benedict looked somewhat puzzled.

Virginia suggested: ‘Some knowledge of politics, international relations and economics is obviously necessary in order to understand the causes which lead to war. I concede that philosophy and even theology might be useful.' (Woolf 112)

Then with more than a touch of irony in her voice she looked especially at Catherine, Monica and myself and declared: ‘Now ... the uneducated, you with an untrained mind, could not possibly deal with such questions satisfactorily. War as a result of impersonal forces is, as you agree, beyond the grasp of the untrained mind.' (Woolf 112)

She then added deliberately: ‘But war as a result of human nature is another thing.' She went on to underline the fact that the opinion of ordinary people, such as herself and ourselves, could be of considerable use in working for the prevention of war. Benedict did not seem to qualify for the category ‘ordinary.' (Woolf 112, 113)

Prevention of war

As Virginia progressed in her somewhat convoluted way that Benedict seemed to be enjoying, we became aware that, on behalf of women, she had pondered how they could engage more and more in the professions formerly restricted to men ‘and yet remain civilised human beings, human beings who discourage war'. (Woolf 196)

She shared with us the fruit of her pondering: ‘Women must retain their enforced association with poverty, chastity, derision and freedom from unreal loyalties - but combine them with some wealth, some knowledge and some service to real loyalties.' (Woolf 196)

We must have looked patently bemused because she laughed and continued: ‘You hesitate. Some of the conditions, you seem to suggest, need further discussion. By poverty is meant enough money to live upon. That is, you must earn enough to be independent of any other human being and to buy that modicum of health, leisure, knowledge and so on that is needed for the full development of body and mind. But no more. Not a penny more.' (Woolf 196)

After waiting for that to penetrate she continued: ‘By chastity is meant that when you have made enough to live on by your profession, you must refuse to sell your brain for the sake of money. That is you must cease to practise your profession or only practise it for the sake of research and experiment; or, if you are an artist, for the sake of the art; or give the knowledge acquired professionally to those who need it for nothing.' (Woolf 196, 197)

Again she paused before adding: ‘By derision - a bad word but the English language is much in need of new words - is meant that you must refuse all methods of advertising merit and hold that ridicule, obscurity and censure are preferable for psychological reasons to fame and praise.' (Woolf 197)

With a dramatic gesture she concluded: ‘Directly badges, orders or degrees are offered you, fling them back in the giver's face.' (Woolf 197)

I noted that Benedict was listening attentively. Catherine queried Virginia's concept of chastity.

She responded: ‘Chastity has a religious importance in a woman's life and has so wrapped itself round with nerves and instincts that to cut it free and bring it to the light of day demands courage of the rarest.' (Woolf 47)

She then floated the idea: ‘It should not be difficult to transmute the old ideal of bodily chastity into the new ideal of mental chastity - to hold that if it was wrong to sell the body for money it is much more wrong to sell the mind for money, since the mind, people say, is nobler than the body.' (Woolf 199)

Catherine pressed her to explore the idea further; Benedict was obviously intrigued

Virginia obliged: ‘What is meant by selling your mind without love? It is to write at the command of another person what you do not want to write, for the sake of money. To sell a brain is worse than to sell a body for when the body seller has sold her momentary pleasure she takes good care that the matter shall end there. But when a brain seller has sold her brain, its anaemic, vicious and diseased progeny are let loose upon the world to infect and corrupt and sow seeds of disease in others.' (Woolf 212)

Benedict, schooled in the field of ‘dangerous false philosophies', had no problem in following her reasoning.

Virginia laughed as she observed: ‘Now that St Paul and many of the apostles have been unveiled by modern science, bodily chastity has undergone considerable revision.' (Woolf 293)

She added: ‘Yet there is said to be a reaction in favour of some degree of chastity for both sexes. This is partly due to economic causes; the protection of the chastity of maids is an expensive item in the bourgeois budget.' (Woolf 293)

Following this cynical comment which was not lost on Benedict she went on: ‘The psychological argument in favour of chastity is well expressed by Mr Upton Sinclair: “Nowadays we hear a great deal about mental troubles caused by sex repression; it is the mood of the moment. We do not hear anything about the complexes which may be caused by sex indulgence. But my observation has been that those who permit themselves to follow every sexual impulse are quite as miserable as those who repress every sexual impulse.”'(Woolf 293)

Benedict laughed with Virginia and then pointed out that there was a strong connection between the teaching of Jesus and the special values of poverty, chastity, ridicule, derision and freedom from unreal loyalties, which she advocated to women as an antidote to war.

Virginia nodded encouragingly.

Benedict elaborated: ‘Christ definitely stated in His sublime Sermon on the Mount the real “beatitudes” of man in the world. He thereby may be said to have laid down the foundations of Christian philosophy. Certainly all would admit that before Christ, who is the Very Truth, no such teaching in those matters had ever been uttered with such weight and dignity or with such a depth of love.' (Ben. 209-10)

Virginia again nodded encouragingly.

Benedict clarified further: ‘According to the divine plan, riches and glory and pleasure do not bring happiness to man. If he really wishes to be happy, he must rather for God's sake renounce them all: “Blessed are ye poor for yours is the Kingdom of God; blessed are you that are hungry now for you will be satisfied; blessed are ye that weep now for you will laugh; blessed shall you be when men shall hate you, drive you out, abuse you, denounce your name as criminal, on account of the Son of Man. ...”'(Luke 6: 20-22) (Ben. 210)

He leant back in his chair and sipped his wine. He had made his point.

Monica asked Virginia for clarification concerning what she meant by ‘freedom from unreal loyalties'.

Nationalism

Virginia elaborated with some passion: ‘By “freedom from unreal loyalties” is meant that you must rid yourself in the first place of pride and nationality. Then you must rid yourself of religious pride, college pride, school pride, family pride, sex pride and those unreal loyalties that spring from them.' (Woolf 197)

She waxed eloquent and looked compellingly at us around the table as she urged us to say to men bent on war: ‘If you insist upon fighting to protect me or “our” country, let it be understood, soberly and rationally between us, that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot share; to procure benefits which I have not shared and probably will not share; and not to gratify my instincts or to protect either myself or my country.' (Woolf 229)

Virginia looked at us three women rather than Benedict as she stated with the utmost conviction what a woman should reply to the warmongers: ‘As a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman my country is the whole world.' (Woolf 229, 309)

It became clear that while acknowledging a special love for England, Virginia maintained that ‘peace and freedom for the whole world' were essentially in England's best interests. (Woolf 229)

It was obvious that Benedict fundamentally shared Virginia's views on nationalism. He informed us wryly: ‘Never perhaps was there more talk about the brotherhood of men than there is to-day but in reality never was there less brotherly activity amongst men. Race hatred has reached its climax.' (Ben. 205)

He explained: ‘I am a pacifist but I value patriotism. True patriotism must steer a middle course between a fanatical exclusiveness and a vague, fussy philanthropy.' [iv]

Looking around the dinner company he stated categorically: ‘All men must combine to get rid of the causes of war by bringing Christian principles into honour, if we have any real desire for the peace and harmony of human society.' (Ben. 204))

Fixing his gaze on Virginia he observed: ‘In order the more to stimulate us to brotherly love, even towards those whom our natural pride despises, it is Christ's will that we should recognise the dignity of His own very self in the meanest of men: “As long as you did it to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me”.' (Matt 25: 40) (Ben. 205)

Virginia expressed agreement with this saying that such a philosophy made eminent sense to her, though palpably it did not to the majority of men.

Wryly and with obvious pain in his voice Benedict confided: ‘Even the prayer that I composed for peace was judged in some quarters as undercutting morale and on more than one part of the fighting front its repetition was forbidden.' (Hol. 5)

Laughing ruefully he declared: ‘I was aware that there was widespread dissatisfaction with my neutrality and my many calls for peace.' I was labelled “the Boche Pope”[v] (Hol.3)

Virginia was obviously touched and looked sympathetically at Benedict. Sitting back in his chair and with a dismissive gesture he added to his story: ‘I was criticised for not permitting the ringing of the bells of St Peters in 1917 when the British under General Allenby were victorious over the Turks in Palestine. I said that I would not rejoice over political victories achieved through bloodshed.' (Pet. 253)

Virginia congratulated him warmly on the stance he had taken.

Catherine and Monica cleared the table. Somehow we had finished the dessert course. Our guests were absorbed in their conversation and ate with little attention to their meal.

As Monica served coffee, Virginia asked Benedict about the proposals for peace that he had made to the warring powers.

Peace

We were interested to hear Benedict's proposition for the establishment of a league of nations.

He said that he explained to the warring nations: ‘What especially, amongst other reasons, calls for an association of nations, is the need generally recognised of making every effort to abolish or reduce the enormous burden of the military expenditure which States can no longer bear. Each nation should be assured not only of its independence but also of the integrity of its territories within its just frontiers.' (Ben. 228)

With what amounted to three hearty British cheers Virginia expressed her approval.

Benedict added: ‘I also advocated formal acknowledgment of the right of all nations to the freedom of the seas. On the one hand this would remove manifold causes of conflict and, on the other hand, it would open up fresh sources of prosperity and progress to all.' (Ben. 220)

Catherine asked about war damages.

He responded: ‘Generally mutual pardon should operate concerning war damages except for exceptional cases when justice and equity demand some form of reparation. I urged that when settling territorial disputes the aspirations of the people should be taken into account.' (Ben. 220)

As he explained further, it appeared that he considered Armenia, the Balkans and Poland to be examples of ‘special cases' where the aspirations of peoples needed to be respected. (Ben. 220,221)

With conviction he continued: ‘Forgiveness and reconciliation are the essential basis of a lasting peace. I told the leaders of the warring nations that there was no need from me of a long proof to show that society would incur the risk of great loss if, while peace is signed, latent hostility and enmity were to continue among the nations.' (Ben. 223)

‘How sadly true!' responded Virginia.

Wryly Benedict informed us: ‘I had the audacity to draw the attention of the leaders of the warring nations to Jesus' words: “But I say to you, love your enemies; do good to them that hate you; pray for those that persecute and calumniate you, that you may be the children of your Father who is in Heaven who maketh His sun to rise upon the good and bad.” (Matt. 5: 44, 45.) I also pointed out that the Gospel has not one law of Charity for individuals and another for States and nations, which are indeed but collections of individuals.' (Ben. 224)

Virginia nodded; she was clearly liking what she was hearing.

Again laughing ruefully, Benedict told us: ‘At least the Quakers supported my peace plan and exhorted the President of the United States to consider it.' Sadly he added: ‘But generally the leaders assessed it as religion's arrogant and unwarranted intrusion into politics.' (Pet.164, 173).

In the light of this we were not surprised that the Vatican was not invited to the Treaty of Versailles nor to be a member of the League of Nations.

As the conversation progressed we became aware that Benedict thought the Treaty of Versailles following World War I had treated Germany far too harshly. And although he obviously endorsed the general idea of a league of all nations, he was critical of the League that emerged because it lacked a true spirit of Christian justice and charity in relation to the vanquished. (Pet. 177)

As Virginia and Benedict continued to dialogue we learnt that in a number of ways, and through a variety of channels, Benedict had worked to mitigate the suffering brought about by the conflict of the First World War. Early in the war he had asked the belligerents to arrange for the exchange of prisoners of war unfit for military service. He had also set up in Rome an organisation to serve prisoners of war and through it, among other measures, contacts were facilitated between prisoners and hostages of war and their families.[vi]

From our research we knew that Virginia was hearing only a fraction of Benedict's initiatives. Both during and after the war he gave or assisted in providing relief to war victims. Among other things he helped to found the Save the Children Fund. When the next pope saw the ledgers of the Holy See he was alarmed at the deficit. In fact Cardinal Gaspari had to borrow money to meet the expenses of the conclave to elect Benedict's successor. (Hol. 18)

Catherine, who as usual had done her homework well, looking admiringly at Benedict, informed us: ‘Turkey, although a solidly Moslem country, erected a statue to commemorate your charity to their country. The inscription read: "To the great Pope of the World's Tragic Hour, Benedict XV, Benefactor of the People, Without Discrimination of Nationality or Religion, A Token of Gratitude From the Orient”.' (Pet. 186.)

Virginia leant forward and shook Benedict's hand warmly. He did not put on a show of modesty but simply looked grateful.

Materialism

The curse of materialism now became the focus of the attention of our guests. Virginia was concerned that professional men were more obsessed with making money than serving humankind and hence prone to make wars.

She reported: ‘When I challenge professional men with the words and example of Christ they reply with some heat that Christ's words about the rich and the Kingdom of Heaven are no longer helpful to those who have to face different facts in a different world.' (Woolf 184)

Benedict agreed asserting: ‘If anyone considers the evils under which human society is at present labouring, they will all be seen to spring from the desire for money.' (Ben 209)

Virginia observed wryly: ‘If people are highly successful in their professions they lose their senses. Sight goes. They have no time to look at pictures. Sound goes. They have no time to listen to music. Speech goes. They have no time for conversation. They lose their sense of proportion - the relations between one thing and another. Humanity goes.' (Woolf 187)

She paused, sighed and added: ‘Money making becomes so important that they must work by night as well as by day. Health goes. And so competitive do they become that they will not share their work with others though they have more than they can do themselves. What remains of a human being who has lost sight and sound and sense of proportion? Only a cripple in a cave.' (Woolf 187, 188)

Virginia grimaced and confessed she was aware that women had aided and abetted men in getting to this dehumanised situation. (Woolf 34)

Accepting a cup of coffee from Monica and surveying the dinner company questioningly, Benedict exclaimed: ‘If it is expected that the human person is to be happy chiefly in the enjoyment of wealth, honour and pleasure, what wonder that men seek them.' (Ben 209)

He went on to lament that godless schools and various irresponsible mass media outlets promote destructive materialism. (Ben. 209)

Natural law

Virginia proceeded to support Benedict by illustrating the destructive effect of wealth and power on the human being as depicted in Sophocles' play Antigone : ‘Consider the character of Creon. There you have a most profound analysis by a poet, who is a psychologist in action, of the effect of power and wealth upon the soul. Consider Creon's claim to absolute rule over his subjects.' (Woolf 198)

Benedict appreciated her insight. Encouraged, Virginia continued, indicating an awareness of the superiority of natural law over man-made law and highlighting the primacy of conscience: ‘You want to know which are the unreal loyalties which we must despise, which are the real loyalties which we must honour? (She looked at Catherine who had raised this point earlier.) Consider Antigone's distinction between the “laws” and “the Law”. That is a far more profound statement of the duties of the individual to society than any our sociologists can offer us.' (Woolf 198)

She elaborated: ‘Lame as the English rendering is: “‘Tis not my nature to join in hating, but in loving.” Antigone's few words are worth all the sermons of all the archbishops. But to enlarge would be impertinent. Private judgment is still free in private and that freedom is the essence of freedom.' (Woolf 198)

Benedict smiled appreciatively and expressed respect for ‘the Law', the law of God inherent in the natural law, that Antigone and Virginia championed. He saw it as a prerequisite for peace.

As the conversation continued it became apparent that, although the conscience of the individual person was rated very highly by Benedict, he considered respect for legitimate authority to be essential to the peace of society.

He pointed out: ‘St Paul lays down the obligation of obeying the commands of those in authority, not in any kind of way but religiously, that is conscientiously - unless their commands are against the laws of God: “Wherefore be subject of necessity, not only for wrath but also for conscience' sake” (Rom, 13: 5)'. (Ben. 206-7)

After pointing out the necessity for those exercising authority to follow Christ, he described the dilemma facing them if they fail - the revolt of the people and, all too often, the leader's recourse to force.

Benedict then surveyed the company and declared triumphantly: ‘Force can repress the body, but it cannot repress the souls of men.' (Ben. 207)

Virginia reminded us that she had made this eminently clear in her citing of the case of Antigone.

The common good

As the conversation flowed on I became very conscious of how deeply Virginia appreciated the need for cooperation among peoples.

Among other things she said: ‘The common life is the real life not the little separate lives we live as individuals ... the public and private worlds are inseparably connected; ... the tyrannies and servilities of the one are the tyrannies and servilities of the other.' (Woolf 106, 266)

She warned: ‘A common interest unites men and women; it is one world, one life ... For such will be our ruin if men, in the immensity of their public abstractions forget the private figure or if we women in the intensity of our private emotions forget the public world.' (Woolf 106, 267)

Benedict agreed, if in a somewhat more pedestrian way: ‘The success of every society of men, for whatever purpose it is formed, is bound up with the harmony of the members in the interests of the common good.' (Ben. 212)

It emerged that Benedict was very conscious of his authority as Pope and expected Catholics to heed him when he spoke. Among other restrictions he declared that ‘no private individual whether in books or in the press or in public speeches should take upon himself the position of an authoritative teacher in the Church.' (Ben. 212)

Apparently conscious that he sounded excessively restrictive, he explained further: ‘As regards matters in which without harm to faith or discipline - in the absence of any authoritative intervention of the Pope - there is room for divergent opinions, it is clearly the right of everyone to express and defend his own opinion.' (Ben. 212)

He added: ‘But in such discussion no expressions should be used which might constitute serious breaches of charity; let each one freely defend his own opinion, but let it be done with due moderation. No one should consider himself entitled to label with the stigma of disloyalty to the faith or to discipline those who merely do not agree with his ideas.' (Ben. 212-13)

From our reading we knew that Benedict, while being vigilant for orthodoxy, had acted promptly to put an end to the witch-hunts, that had emerged as a perversion of Pius X's anti-modernist campaign. (Lat. 27) Indeed, he had defended vigorously some priests accused of modernism in his diocese when he was Archbishop of Bologna and after moving to the Vatican as Pope, he found that he had been reported to Rome as being dangerously tolerant of modernism. (Pol. 24)

As we all accepted another cup of coffee, Virginia moved the conversation into a consideration of a subject she considered to be of basic importance.

Relationship between men and women

Virginia held the floor as she highlighted the differences between men and women: ‘The creative power of women differs greatly from the creative power of men. And one must conclude that it would be a thousand pities if it were hindered or wasted, for it was won by centuries of the most drastic discipline and there is nothing to take its place.' (Woolf 82)

She shook her head fretfully and continued: ‘It would be a thousand pities if women wrote like men or lived like men or looked like men, for if two sexes are quite inadequate, considering the vastness and variety of the world, how should we manage with one only? Ought not education bring out and fortify the differences rather than the similarities?' (Woolf 82)

Benedict sat back and nodded with an intrigued expression on his face.

Virginia observed that women had no literary tradition of their own to help them, and she declared categorically: ‘It is useless to go to the great men writers for help, however much one may go to them for pleasure. The weight, the pace, the stride of a man's mind are too unlike her own for her to lift anything substantial from him successfully.' (Woolf 71)

Benedict looked expectant; he was obviously interested in this exploration.

Virginia continued: ‘Men's literature does not deal with relationships between women. It is strange to think that all the great women of fiction are, until Jane Austen's day, not only seen by the other sex but seen in relation to the other sex. And how small a part of a woman's life is that; and how little can a man know even of that when he observes it through the black or rosy spectacles which sex puts upon his nose.' (Woolf 77)

Benedict laughed outright and Virginia went on to say: ‘A man is terribly hampered in his knowledge of women, as a woman in her knowledge of men.' (Woolf 77)

She next began to explore the cause of men's anger with women: ‘Life for both sexes is arduous, difficult, a perpetual struggle. It calls for gigantic courage and strength. More than anything, perhaps, creatures of illusion as we are, it calls often for confidence in oneself. Without self-confidence we are babies in the cradle. And how can we nost quickly generate this imponderable quality, which is yet so invaluable?' (Woolf 33)

There was silence as we all thought about this.

Virginia proposed: ‘I suggest that men attempt to acquire self-confidence by denigrating women.' (Woolf 33-4)

A thoughtful silence again enveloped the company. Virginia interrupted this with: ‘A very queer, composite being of woman emerges in literature and history. Imaginatively she is of the highest importance; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was the slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger. Some of the most inspired words, some of the most profound thoughts in literature fall from her lips; in real life she could hardly read, could hardly spell and was the property of her husband.' (Woolf 41)

We did not speak; the atmosphere was charged with expectancy.

Women's college

With an edge of bitterness in her voice, Virginia asserted: ‘More than ever today women have the opportunity to build a new and better world but in the slavish imitation of men they are wasting their chance.' (Woolf 189)

She then smiled defiantly and declared: ‘To promote the welfare of women and the building of a better world it is essential that women build colleges that do not ape those of men.' (Woolf 144)

After complaining bitterly that money is lavished on the education of men while that of women is under-resourced, she went on with a strongly satirical tone to describe her ideal women's college: ‘It is young and poor; let it therefore take advantage of those qualities and be founded on poverty and youth. Obviously, then, it must be an experimental college, an adventurous college.' (Woolf 143)

With more than a hint of excitement in her voice she proceeded to ask the question: ‘What shall be taught in the new college, the poor college?' Her answer came emphatically without hesitation: ‘Not the arts of dominating other people; not the arts of ruling, of killing, of acquiring land and capital. They require too many overhead expenses; salaries and uniforms and ceremonies. The poor college must teach only the arts that can be taught cheaply and practised by poor people; such as medicine, mathematics, music, painting and literature.' (Woolf 143-4)

Benedict smiled and nodded approval.

Virginia responded to the encouragement: ‘It should teach the art of human intercourse; the art of understanding other people's lives and minds and the little arts of talk, of dress, of cookery that are allied with them. The aim of the new college, the cheap college, should be not to segregate and specialise but to combine. It should explore the ways in which mind and body can be made to cooperate; discover what new combinations make good wholes in human life.' (Woolf 144)

Benedict was patently fascinated by Virginia's rhetoric as she warmed to her subject declaring categorically: ‘The teachers should be drawn from the good livers as well as from the good thinkers.' (Woolf p144)

Benedict could not have agreed more strongly.

Virginia exclaimed: ‘Let us found the this new college; this poor college; in which learning is sought for itself.' (Woolf 144-5)

Benedict XV, the pope who had honoured the six-hundredth anniversary of the death of Dante with a special encyclical, laughed and clapped his hands. Catherine, Monica and I could not help joining in.

Virginia mockingly acknowledged our applause with a bow.

She then went on to spell out at length her thesis that women will never be able to develop their talents until they are financially independent of men. She also gave examples of discrimination against women in various professions, such as the English civil service. She deplored the inequality of wages for men and women. (Woolf 101, 105, 119, 168)

Final words

After entertaining us with a bitingly satirical description of the dress adopted by men on ceremonial public occasions, Virginia looked at Catherine, Monica and myself and counselled: ‘Woman should learn to laugh, without bitterness, at the vanities - say rather the peculiarities, for it is a less offensive word - of the other sex. For there is a spot the size of a shilling at the back of the head which one can never see for oneself.' (Woolf 84)

With another satirical laugh she added: ‘It is one of the good offices that one sex can discharge for the other sex - to describe that spot the size of a shilling at the back of the head. Think with what humanity and brilliancy men from the earliest ages have pointed out to women that dark spot at the back of the head!' (Woolf 84)

Although it was getting late, like the Ancient Mariner, Virginia talked on, obviously appreciating her sympathetic audience. She seemed to be arguing for virtually separate spheres for men and women based on their inherent masculine and feminine differences, but she was aware of the intrinsic dangers to both parties in this situation. She resented the freedom to study and progress in their profession which the domestic service of wives gave their husbands. (Woolf 303-4)

At one point she gave a rather hollow laugh and observed: ‘There can be no doubt that we owe to this segregation of the sexes the immense elaboration of modern instruments and methods of war; the astonishing complexities of theology; the vast deposit of notes at the bottom of Greek, Latin and English texts ... and all those meaningless but highly ingenious turnings and twistings into which the intellect ties itself when rid of the cares of the household and the family.' (Woolf 304)

Benedict did not laugh but looked enormously sad and nodded agreement.

Finally Virginia admitted: ‘I have come to the conclusion that it is natural for the sexes to cooperate.' She grimaced, sighed and explained her thinking: ‘One has a profound if irrational instinct in favour of the theory that the union of man and woman makes for the greatest satisfaction, the most complete happiness.' (Woolf 91, 92)

She continued: ‘I asked myself the question whether there are two sexes in the mind corresponding to the two sexes in the body, and whether they also require to be united in order to get complete satisfaction and happiness? And whether ... in the soul ... of each one of us two powers preside, one male and one female; and in the man's brain the man predominates over the woman and in the woman's the woman predominates over the man.' (Woolf 91-2)

She went on: ‘The normal and comfortable state of being occurs when the two live in harmony together, spiritually co-operating. If one is a man, still the woman part of the brain must have effect; and a woman also must have intercourse with the man in her. Coleridge perhaps meant this when he said that a great mind is androgynous. It is when this fusion takes place that the mind is fully fertilised and uses all its faculties. Perhaps a mind that is purely masculine cannot create, any more than a mind that is purely feminine.' (Woolf 92)

Benedict would have liked to have pursued this further, and Virginia in turn was interested in hearing about his forward-looking activities in relation to mission countries, but the hour was late. Our guests reluctantly departed and we, even more reluctantly farewelled them.

After the party

We had all been impressed with Virginia's insightful grasp of reality and discussed her contemporary Winifred Holtby's observation of her: ‘It was rather remarkable that all through her life Virginia Woolf had preserved, undeterred by contemporary scepticism and distrust of the intellect, a sense of absolute reality. She saw a light of truth shining steadily beyond the shifting individualism of personal experience, illuminating all reasonable human beings, men and women, rich and poor alike.[vii]'

I said that I had been touched by Benedict's deep humanity. Monica said that this had been the experience, too, of Hilare Belloc. He recorded that, when he had an audience with Benedict in 1916, he had expected, from what he had heard of him, to meet a subtle diplomat. Instead he encountered ‘an intense anxious sincerity' and a man who spoke to him ‘of individual conversion' as opposed to political Catholicism. (Pet. 230)

We also discussed other aspects of Benedict's time of service as pope. Catherine pointed out that the missions displayed a forward surge under Benedict's encouragement. He promoted the creation of an indigenous clergy, opposed the imposition of Western culture in mission lands and generally improved mission methods which had long range effects including the development of forward looking missiology courses. (Lat. 28-9)

Catherine informed us that Pollard, in his recent study of Benedict's peace making efforts, pointed out that there were times when the neutrality of the Vatican during the War could be challenged. Indeed there was at times significant opposition from within the Vatican to Benedict's diplomatic interventions for peace.

However, according to Pollock, though it failed to stop the war, Benedict's peace diplomacy eventually bore its fruits: ‘In the short term, it gave an immense boost to the diplomatic standing and influence of papal diplomacy, which was to be of great importance to the post-war period. In the longer term it laid the foundations for a new peace-making role for the papacy.' (Pol.134-136)

We thought that our two pacifist guests had enjoyed each other's company very much indeed. There was no mistaking their common anti-materialist stance, their all-embracing attitude to humanity and their common understanding of the destructive force of perverted nationalism.

Dr Sophie McGrath, Golding Centre for Women's History, Theology and Spirituality, Australian Catholic University, s.mcgrath@mary.acu.edu.au