“My own museum,” Hitler echoed, the words slipping from his lips like in a dream.
“Envision it, surpassing the magnificence of the Louvre in Paris, the British Museum—even the Smithsonian in the United States.”
Hitler’s gaze drifted off into the distance, his mind lost to the vision of a museum of such monumental scale.
“All the world’s most influential leaders boast impressive art collections, Adolf. But yours, yours would be unparalleled, the most expansive collection the world has ever seen.” Pacelli’s voice tolled like a bell throughout the room, his words painting a vivid picture in Hitler’s mind. Hitler found himself entranced—his gaze remained fixed on the world outside the window yet his mind was elsewhere, lost in the gloriousness of this vision.
“Now, picture your own work, Adolf. Visualize the prized pieces you painted hanging in the same space as the masterpieces of Monet, Degas, Van Gogh. Imagine the awe and respect that would command.”
Envisioning a world where he was the curator of his own grand museum, Hitler found himself entranced by the idea. He could almost hear the soft whispers of visitors, their reverence marveling at his masterpieces. He could feel the cool metal of the barrier keeping crowds at a safe distance from his gems. Their gaze captivated by the vibrant colors and delicate brush strokes of his artwork. A surge of pride, potent and intoxicating, coursed through his veins. This dream, so grand and audacious, was beyond anything he’d ever dared to imagine. And now it was within his grasp. He knew, with a fierce certainty, he would stop at nothing to make this dream a reality.
“Consider it the ‘Führermuseum’,” Pacelli suggested, his eyes keenly observing Hitler devouring the tantalizing prospect laid before him. Everyone had their Achilles’ heel, their irresistible lure. For Hitler, it was art. Pacelli was well aware of this, and so he’d masterfully fanned the flames of this passion. It was the ultimate bait, a desire so potent it eclipsed all others in Hitler’s heart.
“Why not erect this monumental edifice right in the heart of Linz?” Pacelli suggested, his voice echoing with a sense of splendor.
“Linz,” Hitler murmured, his mind’s eye painting a picture of a colossal museum, a testament to his vision, standing tall amidst the cityscape of his childhood. Despite the bitter memories Linz held for him, the idea of exacting a form of poetic justice by constructing the world’s largest museum there held a certain appeal.
“To fill the halls of your Führermuseum, you would need to amass an unprecedented collection of artwork, Adolf,” Pacelli continued, his tone matter-of-fact.
“That’s right, Your Excellency. How might I acquire such a vast collection?” Hitler questioned, the image of his grand Führermuseum disappearing in the face of this daunting obstacle.
“The answer lies with the Jews. Remember those who betrayed the Germans in the Great War?” Pacelli’s words hung heavy in the air.
“The Jews,” Hitler echoed, his voice laced with bitterness as he recalled the greed of the Jews, their betrayal of the Germans for personal gain.
“Wouldn’t it be fitting for the Jews to bear the cost of the retribution imposed on the German people by the Treaty of Versailles?”
Hitler nodded, his mind filled with images of the priceless artwork that adorned the opulent mansions of the Jewish elite.
“Of course, you wouldn’t sell the artwork to repay the treaty’s demands, Adolf. You would seize it for your Führermuseum, for the world to marvel at,” Pacelli clarified, his vision of the future clear and compelling.
Hitler looked at Pacelli. His mind reeled from the enormity of the dream being woven before him. In the presence of this great man, his ambitions soared to heights he had never before imagined.
“Adolf, you must understand that this museum, this dream, can only become a reality if you are the leader of Germany,” Pacelli said, his gaze steady on Hitler.
“I understand, Your Excellency.” Hitler’s voice was firm with newfound resolve.
“Your primary objective must remain crystal clear, Adolf: you are destined to become the leader of the German empire. Once you are appointed as the Führer of the Third Reich, you will command the respect of global leaders. Your word will be law.” The authority girding Pacelli’s voice sent shivers down Hitler’s spine.
He found himself entranced by the cardinal’s vivid depiction of this potential future. The idea of being Germany’s Führer, guided by Pacelli, was intoxicating. He saw his future self, a figure of awe and respect showcasing the monumental museum in Linz to leaders from around the globe. His would be the envy of the world.
Pacelli’s voice broke through Hitler’s reverie. “But in exchange for this vast collection of artwork, there will be a price to pay.”
“You never mentioned any cost, Your Excellency.” Hitler’s voice wavered, the fear of his dream being too expensive creeping into his mind.
“Consider it an extension of your tithes and offerings, my friend. I propose that the gold you extract from the Jews be discreetly funneled to the Vatican on a regular basis.” Hitler was oblivious to the fact this was one of the Council’s core aims, to bolster the Vatican’s financial stability.
“What is this you speak of? What gold am I to extract from the Jews?” Hitler asked, confusion etched on his face.
“When you seize their artwork for your Führermuseum, you will also seize their gold.” Pacelli’s voice was steady and direct. “You will then transport this gold covertly to the Vatican.” He extended his hand towards the meticulously rolled map resting at the corner of his imposing desk.
“The Jews’ gold in exchange for my Führermuseum?” Hitler echoed, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the deal.
“And your ascension as Führer,” Pacelli added, unfurling the strategic battle map that had been meticulously crafted by the Council.
“The ‘cost’ is the gold I seize from the Jews. That’s it?” Hitler questioned, his voice dropping to an unusual hush as he grappled with the bewildering intricacies of the deal.
“Yes. Allow me to show you how this will work,” Pacelli said, placing paperweights on the corners of the expansive map.
Hitler moved to Pacelli’s side of the desk, his eyes scanning the intricately detailed map of the railway routes running from Eastern Europe to the Vatican. The plans outlined how he was to transport the confiscated Jewish gold to Rome.
Pacelli watched Hitler with a satisfied smile, confident that the Council’s mission to fortify the Vatican’s financial reserves was on the brink of fruition.
Chapter 29
18 July 1925
Munich, Bavaria, Germany
Mein Kampf Volume 1 is published. 9,473 copies sold.
Chapter 30
2 February 1926
The Art of War
