by Hubert Wolf
Once again, the question arises of how far the figures of Peters and Kleutgen were united, and how much his testimony was worth. A naive father confessor might have believed in the authenticity of the heavenly letters. But it was surprising that a highly educated Jesuit theologian, as Kleutgen most certainly was, had been taken in by letters that demanded immoral acts of him.
On the other hand, this belief was in line with the well-regarded brochure of 1846, Über den Glauben an das Wunderbare (On the Belief in Miracles). The author of this text, who used the pseudonym J. W. Karl, was none other than the young Kleutgen: Joseph Wilhelm Carl were his three forenames. Even at that time, he had mounted an enthusiastic defense of miraculous apparitions, stigmata, and women with mystical gifts. He pointed out that “the gift of miracles is one of the favors bestowed upon the Church by its divine benefactor.”60 It shouldn’t be considered improbable “that the saints, and the queen of saints herself, might come down from heaven.”61 But the unusual apparitions that were part of a mystic’s life should be approached with extreme caution. It was better to ask three times than to believe too easily. The crucial criterion for judging these divine works was their “wholesome purpose.”62 “Gullibility and precipitate eagerness in these cases” were a great “evil.” “We call those people gullible who believe in miraculous apparitions without further ado, before they have been properly investigated.”63 Kleutgen, alias Karl, emphasized the important role played by these female mystics’ “spiritual guides.”64 They had to examine all supernatural phenomena with the utmost care. For if “even men whose role is to lead and teach the people” allowed themselves to be gullible and impulsive, “then how much greater and more dangerous will be the outrage of the pious, and the scorn of the unbelievers, if a deception or sham should be discovered!”65
This confirms that Kleutgen sincerely believed in the reality of supernatural phenomena, and that this belief had a theological foundation. Visions, apparitions, and letters from the Virgin were quite self-evidently real to him. But then why didn’t Peters, working in Sant’Ambrogio in 1857, stick to the criteria that Kleutgen had set down in 1846? Why didn’t he ask “three times”? Why was he, a priest and a spiritual guide, “gullible” and more than “impulsive”? The answer may well have been: because he was blinded by his love for Maria Luisa.
NEW SCHOLASTIC CONVOLUTIONS
As it had been for the other three main defendants, the third point to be covered in Kleutgen’s hearings was the poisoning of Katharina von Hohenzollern, and the Jesuit’s possible entanglement in the murder plot. Kleutgen also applied his tried and tested strategy to this charge: first, denial, then admitting as little as possible, and finally trying to cast anything he had been forced to admit in a different light in an attempt to mitigate what he had done. After a long back-and-forth, involving extensive discussions and written explanations, the court recorded the following facts pertaining to this charge.66
From the outset, Kleutgen had been well informed about the contents of the letter from the Virgin that Maria Luisa made Maria Francesca write for her on December 8, 1858. He also knew about other such prophecies. Since he believed in the authenticity of these letters, he had to assume that the princess’s death had been ordained by heaven, and that furthermore she was threatened with eternal damnation. As a good pastor, he should have acted immediately to try and save Katharina’s soul, even if he didn’t believe he could save her earthly life.
As her father confessor, Kleutgen had also always known that the princess was afraid she was being poisoned in Sant’Ambrogio. However, he didn’t take her concerns seriously. He told the Inquisition several times that he believed they were the product of an overwrought noblewoman’s imagination. The Jesuit also regarded the Americano’s ominous letter as the catalyst for the whole affair. But as Maria Luisa consistently denied having shown Katharina the letter, and because the heavenly letters said it was a satanic trick, Kleutgen chose to believe their version of events.
The Jesuit also knew that some of the nuns suspected Katharina was being murdered with a cocktail of various poisons. Although there were a great many rumors about the poisoning, he had remained convinced that the princess was not being given “any genuine poison.” But he then had to admit he had been concerned for his own future, should Katharina decide to talk about the secrets of Sant’Ambrogio outside the convent. Once he had even broached the subject directly with Maria Luisa, and had also communicated his fears to her in writing.
Then the court confronted Kleutgen with Maria Luisa’s testimony, which claimed that his fears were the real catalyst for the poisoning attempts. She had set the whole thing in motion as a favor to him, to release him from his concerns. Kleutgen’s answer, as was only to be expected, was extremely evasive. “I repeat that I expressed my fears about the princess in the manner I have stated.” But what exactly did that mean? Was he afraid for the princess, which should have been his duty as a confessor? Or was he afraid of what she might say about him and Maria Luisa if she made it out of the convent alive?
There had, Kleutgen continued, been a “huge misunderstanding” regarding the words he had used about the princess’s impending death. “I said we should pray for God to show us the truth, because I believed in Maria Luisa’s innocence. And as the princess had fallen seriously ill, I may possibly have expressed the opinion that her death might be God’s way of putting an end to things that had disturbed both the princess and the community.” In plain terms, this meant that Kleutgen had not acted to bring about Katharina’s demise; he merely hoped that God would see to this Himself. Then it wouldn’t be his fault, but that of a higher power.
The court was, of course, very interested in the exact nature of the “fears and distress” that Kleutgen felt at the prospect of any revelations Katharina von Hohenzollern might make. The Jesuit admitted that he had told Maria Luisa, and probably also the abbess, about these fears. But he had never used the “wicked words” that the witness statements accused him of uttering. And then he passed the buck on to the novice mistress, testifying that his concerns stemmed exclusively from “Maria Luisa’s revelations.”
He also firmly denied ever having told the nuns to pray for the princess’s death. When he had said that the princess was in danger of dying on that particular night, he was “merely repeating Doctor Marchi’s words.” The court accused him of declaring that the sick woman had to die “as a punishment from God.” The Jesuit replied: “This much is true. When I denied that the time of the princess’s death was prophesied, I was referring to the prophetic letter. I do not remember Maria Luisa telling me in person that the princess would fall ill that very day. But from what I now recollect, I must conclude that she at least revealed the day the princess was likely to die.”
So Kleutgen knew about Katharina’s impending death. Her demise would certainly have been advantageous to him: she was party to his secrets, and this would have silenced her once and for all. But the investigating court couldn’t prove that he was directly involved in the poisoning attempts.
However, using his authority as father confessor, Kleutgen had sworn the nuns and the abbess to secrecy, and this (among other things) suggested to the court that he was the real initiator of the whole poisoning affair.67 He instructed them not to tell in the context of the Apostolic Visitation or the Holy Office’s tribunal anything about the “extraordinary” things that happened to Maria Luisa, or about his relationship with her. And in fact, many of the sisters kept quiet about everything for a long time. By following their confessor’s instruction, some even committed perjury.
This was a monstrous affront to the authority of the highest tribunal. Before the Inquisition, defendants and witnesses were supposed to behave as though they were standing before Christ Himself, the judge of mankind. The investigating judges felt they had come under attack from Kleutgen, and they asked a number of particularly probing questions on this point. At first the Jesuit flatly denied having sworn the nuns to secrecy on the subject
of Maria Luisa’s holiness, and all that was bound up with it. But, after being presented with countless witness statements, he eventually had to admit that it was true.
Now Kleutgen started splitting hairs once again, frantically trying to find some theological justification for remaining silent before the court. He finally resorted to a piece of moral-theological pedantry around the principle that a witness only had to answer the specific questions he was explicitly asked. He didn’t have to volunteer information that would incriminate somebody else. Kleutgen claimed this was what he’d meant when he swore Maria Giuseppa to secrecy: he told her she shouldn’t voice her suspicion that Maria Luisa had given Katharina poison unless she was asked. Nor did the abbess have any need to speak about those “facts” that Maria Luisa “had revealed to her out of a sense of duty.”
Kleutgen claimed he knew “with pure certainty” that he “never recommended to the sisters, as a group or individually, that they remain silent on this or that.” “And still less did I instruct them to conceal the events that had taken place.”68 It was obvious that his statements contradicted each other, and Sallua immediately pointed this out. The Jesuit backtracked and admitted that he was now “getting a little unsure.” “Perhaps” he had told a nun, when she asked, “that she could choose to remain silent on these matters before the authority.” “But I am sure I did not do this because I believed that the extraordinary will of God provided us with a dispensation in this matter. I may just have applied a principle badly.” In the following interrogation session, he then contradicted this statement, saying that, at the time, it looked “as if God wanted the matter to remain secret for the time being.” “Although this does not release us from our duty to the authority, it could be that God permitted the sisters error.”
Even the inquisitors, who were schooled in theology, did not and would not follow the logic of this tortuous argument. Sallua made no bones about what he thought of Kleutgen’s flimsy excuses, and worked out exactly what his real motives were—with evident enjoyment, as the files show. This had nothing to do with subtle theological principles and possible issues with the pastoral application of ethical ground rules. The Jesuit was simply afraid that if the nuns gave open and honest testimonies, “a trial would be brought about the poison.” Then his own involvement in the whole affair, and in particular his amorous relationship with Maria Luisa, would become public knowledge. It would spell the end of his career in the Catholic Church. This, and nothing else, was what he was desperate to avoid.
In spite of this, Kleutgen carried on making evasive statements. His strategy rested on admitting errors of understanding, but denying errors of will. He was unable to refute the facts that the court presented to him: they were corroborated by numerous witness statements. But he denied having committed these crimes willingly, and with intent. And intent was ultimately impossible to prove in judicial proceedings of this kind. In the end, it was too much for the Inquisition, and they simply recorded that the facts of this case were clear. But Kleutgen refused even to acknowledge this. His characteristic conclusion was: “I have spoken of my actions, and leave the Holy Tribunal to pass judgment upon them.”69
THE COURT’S FINAL PROPOSITION
In the case against Joseph Kleutgen, the court considered the following charges had been proven—through partial confessions, witness statements, and circumstantial evidence:70
1. Kleutgen had not only permitted, but also encouraged, the false holiness and the cult of Agnese Firrao, who was convicted in 1816.
2. He had “used numerous unauthorized means to proclaim and support … the feigned holiness of the convicted Sister Maria Luisa Ridolfi.”
3. He had also “permitted a long-running heavenly correspondence to take place.… After you were removed from the convent, you attempted to come into possession of all these letters so that you could burn them, which you subsequently did.”
4. The next charge related to Kleutgen’s pretension that God had chosen him as an “extraordinary minister,” “to protect Maria Luisa as if she were a saint, destined for great things, for the destruction of evil and creation of good. You … gave Maria Luisa eager assistance during her extraordinary malady and her many ecstasies, which lasted for hours.”
5. “You entered the clausura in order to perform the extraordinary ministry mentioned above. When she went into a feigned ecstasy, you supported and embraced her many times, kissing her face and sometimes her throat; sometimes you put your tongue into her mouth. At other times you touched her on the chest, on the side of her heart, and performed acts of veneration.”
6. As Kleutgen had also practiced these and other intimacies with his penitent Maria Luisa in the context of dispensing the sacrament of penance, he had become guilty of “sollecitazione con falso dogma”—seduction in the confessional, using false dogma.
7. When Maria Luisa claimed to have received money from heaven, Kleutgen regarded this as a miracle and evidence of her holiness.
8. “You arranged for an American, an acquaintance of yours whom you had declared to be possessed, to have contact with Maria Luisa, and allowed him to conduct fanciful, immoral conversations with her, and to write her letters, although these were then ascribed to the devil for their wicked contents.”
9. The court believed there was sufficient evidence to prove that Kleutgen had sworn the nuns to secrecy. He had also imposed this duty on the abbess after he was dismissed as father confessor, telling her to remain silent on anything that he believed could cause harm to a third party.
10. “You practiced intimate acts with Maria Luisa and another penitent known to you.” The court had not been convinced by Kleutgen’s claim that he had always performed these actions “without passion or debauched urges, without affection, not even with slightly impure affection, but using willpower alone.”
11. Furthermore, the Jesuit was found guilty of regarding Maria Luisa’s revelations as genuine, and acting accordingly.
12. “You accepted the truth of prophecies made by Maria Luisa, both verbally and in writing, regarding the illness and death of a novice, and her eternal damnation.” He had also ignored all kinds of justified indications that she was being poisoned, portraying the whole thing as an illusion, and as the machinations of the devil. Interestingly, the court didn’t name the victim here. Nor did it state whether Kleutgen was involved in the attempts on her life.
13. “Finally, you were requested to answer some questions and propositions regarding moral theology and the doctrine of the Church. You gave appropriate answers, but not on all points.” Therefore the Inquisition’s congregation of cardinals had judged his “doctrine and morality in relation to the facts and misdemeanors of the case at hand to be neither honest nor healthy.”
In conclusion, Sallua recorded that Kleutgen had undergone a “properly-conducted interrogation.” He had “essentially” confessed to the misdemeanors with which he had been charged. For the other defendants, this passage stated that they had given complete and detailed confessions. But at least, at the end of his hearings, the Jesuit seems to have indicated that he would submit to whatever judgment the Inquisition passed on him. He was evidently hoping this would result in a degree of leniency.
The main goal of the Inquisition trial—a comprehensive confession of guilt from the defendant on all charges—was not achieved in Kleutgen’s case, as we may guess from Sallua’s words:
In addition to your answers, you submitted many handwritten pages during these 14 separate hearings, and explained the sequence of facts that relate to you in this case. In a few of these texts, and particularly in the first, you gave a partial spontaneous explanation of the facts of which you were accused, and with which you have been charged. Although your answers sometimes denied these or were incomplete, when you then heard the facts of the case read out, you declared that you did remember them, and confessed to them. Your objections were then confined to a few exaggerations with regard to the nature and the number of these deeds, as you yourself
stated.
The sheer number of charges the Inquisition had proved suggested Kleutgen would receive a severe punishment. But would it really hand this man, whose friends included senior members of the Curia, a lengthy prison sentence?
A PROXY WAR?
This was the end of the offensive process for the defendant Joseph Kleutgen. Sallua had now completed his task. The consultors and the congregation of cardinals were asked to judge the Jesuit’s guilt and fix a sentence, based on the Ristretto of October 1861.71
But in Kleutgen’s case, this was no simple matter. Just as the father confessor Giuseppe Peters had been revealed as the eminent theologian Joseph Kleutgen, there was another dimension waiting to be discovered behind the Sant’Ambrogio trial, too. There was a much larger issue at stake here: namely, the fundamental orientation of the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century. The key to this secret level is provided by Katharina von Hohenzollern’s new confessor, the Benedictine Maurus Wolter. He had already tipped Sallua off about the ominous Americano’s connection with a certain Kleutgen, during the extrajudicial investigation.