The Nuns of Sant'Ambrogio: The True Story of a Convent in Scandal
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Following her rescue from Sant’Ambrogio, Katharina was just glad to have escaped her convent hell. But, under the sacrament of confession, her new confessor had enjoined her to make a denunciation to the Inquisition. Her Denunzia was an act of penance, and a moral obligation, as she emphasized several times. This meant it fulfilled the conditions for the Holy Office to take the case further. Taking revenge on enemies, destroying an opponent’s good reputation, and any similarly base motives had to be ruled out from the start. But what motive could Wolter have had for assigning Katharina this penance? Why did the Benedictine insist she make a denunciation to the highest religious tribunal? Was it really just a matter of obtaining justice for Katharina, and exposing the “Sant’Ambrogio system,” which had already had deadly consequences?
The hint that Wolter provided about Kleutgen’s relationship with the Americano helps to answer these questions. And the fact that a high-ranking cardinal of the Curia like Reisach stepped in to help Kleutgen with his defense suggests that there was much more at stake in this trial than the sexual transgressions of Sant’Ambrogio’s second confessor. It was no coincidence that Reisach went to Tivoli immediately after Katharina had been released from Sant’Ambrogio. He was afraid that something dangerous was brewing there, and he was keen to sound out the situation and rescue what he could from it.72
An entire Church-political and theological faction was on trial in the Sant’Ambrogio case. The members of this faction belonged to a Jesuit network, and their goal was the strict centralization and uniformity of the Catholic Church. Their theological superstructure was provided by new scholasticism. They envisaged an absolute papal monarchy, together with the eradication of all collegial, episcopal, and centrifugal movements within Catholicism. Their piety, set against the background of the new Marian dogma of 1854, was influenced by sentiment, extraordinary religious phenomena, and apparitions—as opposed to the “cold” rationalism of enlightened religious practice.
The first person who should be named as a member of this network is Cardinal Reisach himself. He had placed Katharina in Sant’Ambrogio, and had direct contact with Maria Luisa via Kleutgen. He knew about Sant’Ambrogio’s “secret,” and the plans to use Katharina’s generous dowry to help found an offshoot of the Regulated Third Order of Holy Saint Francis under Firrao’s reform, with Maria Luisa as abbess. Cardinal Patrizi, whose brother was a Jesuit, was another member. As the convent’s long-serving cardinal protector, he was kept informed of the two saints and their cult, thanks to Leziroli. The fact that he failed to intervene and call a halt to all this meant he at least tolerated it. Kleutgen was also part of the network, as a confessor working “on the ground,” and as the group’s chief theologian. And, last but not least, the pope himself might be added to this list. He had attempted to avoid an Inquisition trial for as long as possible in order to protect his Jesuit friends. When a trial before the Holy Office became unavoidable, Pope Pius IX appointed Patrizi as its head, and made Reisach a cardinal member. This gave them the final say over Kleutgen’s fate. It was a clear signal from the pope of exactly where his personal and political sympathies lay.
Katharina also found herself allied to a political and theological network—though she was probably never aware that this level of the trial even existed. She was rightly convinced of the integrity of her actions. The terrible things that had happened to her in Sant’Ambrogio, the cult of the mother founder and Maria Luisa, with all its excesses, and the fact that more murders could well be committed in the convent, were quite enough to justify her complaint to the Inquisition.
But it was no coincidence that, when she reached Tivoli, her cousin Hohenlohe sought out the Benedictine Maurus Wolter to be her new confessor. Wolter was an outspoken opponent of the Jesuits. Hohenlohe had a long-standing connection with the Benedictines of Saint Paul Outside the Walls, and had been good friends with its abbot, Pappalettere, since at least 1853. He was also “firmly opposed” to the adversaries of Anton Günther.73 When Johann Baptist Baltzer,74 who was Günther’s student and a professor of dogmatic theology in Breslau, made a trip to Rome in 1853, he wrote to his ally Franz Peter Knoodt75 that Hohenlohe was entirely on the Güntherians’ side, if only “out of opposition to the Jesuits.”76
Anton Günther was born in northern Bohemia in 1783. He broke off his novitiate with the Jesuits and became a secular priest in 1821. A fundamental estrangement ensued between the Society of Jesus and its onetime protégé. Günther rejected various offers of professorships, and moved to Vienna in 1824, where he became an independent scholar.77 Starting from Descartes’ maxim “I think, therefore I am,” Günther arrived at a “revised theory of spiritual self-awareness,” rejecting the scholastic principle that faith came before thought.78 For him, faith came both “before and after thought.”79 In modern parlance, Günther propagated something like an anthropological turn in theology.80 His thought had huge appeal for educated Catholics, who wanted to link modern philosophy and Catholic belief, and proceed from self-awareness to religious awareness.
Günther’s main opponents were the new scholastics, whom he attacked ferociously, accusing them of flagrant pantheism. Aristotelianism and Christianity were, he said, as irreconcilable as inimical brothers in Rebecca’s womb.81 Philosophy was reduced to the status of a “stable girl”: this was “thin science” versus “fat faith.”82 In Günther’s view, the world was created as a complete counterimage of God. He worked from the principle that God was different from, but not superior to, the world. “But scholasticism insists on the superiority of God, and thus accepts mysteries as truths that are above reason, and the concept of the supernatural as a reality that is above nature, and the concept of the miracle as an event that breaks through the laws of nature.”83 Günther argued against the central categories of new scholastic philosophy, which his pupil Knoodt described as “reheated sauerkraut with no new sausage.”84 Günther saw mysticism as the logical consequence of these new scholastic errors. They led to a deification of humans. But mysticism, the “wayward daughter of scholasticism,” was far worse than its mother, festooning itself all the more “with the heathen jewels of nature” and ending “in madness.”85
From a political perspective, Günther had some quite liberal leanings. In 1848, for example, he declared himself in favor of a constitutional monarchy for Austria—though admittedly without actually calling for a revolution. This gave Kleutgen and his movement several reasons to act against him: Günther despised new scholasticism, mysticism, and the Jesuits, but he also espoused ideas of liberty, which made him an enemy of the pope.
Cardinal Johannes von Geissel from Cologne86 denounced Günther to the Roman authorities, supported by Cardinal Othmar von Rauscher from Vienna,87 much to the delight of Rome’s hard-liners. The Congregation of the Index then tasked Joseph Kleutgen, of all people, with working up the case.88 The Jesuit had been a consultor for the Index since July 1850.89 On April 26, 1853, he provided them with a 130-page extract from Günther’s works, printed in secret by the congregation, on the basis of which he made an unequivocal plea for the Viennese philosopher to be condemned.90
The networks of those defending and accusing Anton Günther then began to take shape, both in Germany and in the Curia. The Viennese philosopher was backed by Cardinal Friedrich, prince of Schwarzenburg,91 who had been prince-archbishop of Prague since 1850, and Cardinal Melchior von Diepenbrock, prince-bishop of Breslau since 1845, who both came to Rome to speak in Günther’s favor. They received a great deal of support from Gustav zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, who, as papal chamberlain, had a hotline to Pius IX. The Benedictine monks of Saint Paul Outside the Walls—among them a whole series of Günther’s pupils—also supported their teacher.
Alongside Geissel and Rauscher, Günther’s opponents included the archbishop of Munich: August, Count Reisach. He was particularly keen for Günther to be indexed. Not content with a simple ban on his books, Günther’s adversaries pushed for an official condemnation of his erroneous teachings
in the form of a papal brief. The prefect of the Congregation of the Index, Cardinal Giacomo Luigi Brignole,92 and the cardinal secretary of state, Luigi Lambruschini,93 were also members of this anti-Güntherian, Jesuit-inspired network, for which Kleutgen supplied the theology.
In the face of this fearsome opposition, Günther’s Roman supporters, Hohenlohe and Pappalettere, told the Viennese theologian that the only way for him to escape being indexed was to come to Rome at once, and clear things up with the pope in person. They thought Pius IX might be won over face-to-face, on account of his “emotional, sanguine” personality. But under no circumstances should Günther hope for a positive outcome to the Index trial. It was impossible to avoid a ban via this official route, following a “maneuver by the Jesuit faction.”94 He therefore had to bypass the usual trial process, and resolve things as people had done in early modern times. He must seek an audience with the ruler—in this case, the pope—and prostrate himself at his feet.
Günther didn’t follow the advice of his Roman advocates. He was in poor health, and didn’t feel able to make the trip to Rome. He left the decision to the Congregation of the Index, which had chosen a new, surprisingly liberal prefect, Cardinal Girolamo D’Andrea,95 on July 4, 1853. D’Andrea would save numerous modern thinkers and writers from the Index.96 And at first, Günther wasn’t indexed; the matter seemed to have been shelved. Pius IX had clearly been receptive to the arguments of the Viennese philosopher’s Roman friends.
But then the mood in Rome became increasingly unfavorable toward the liberals. In an address on December 9, 1854, Pius IX outlined his intentions for the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, which he had announced the previous day: “The Blessed Virgin, who overcame and destroyed all heresies, grant that this pernicious error of rationalism, which so troubles and plagues not only civil society, but also the Church in these sad times, may be torn out by the root and disappear.” Unfortunately there were “certain men pre-eminent in learning, who … hold human reason at so high a value, exalt it so much, that they very foolishly think it is to be held equal to religion itself. Hence, according to the rash opinion of these men, theological studies should be treated in the same manner as philosophical studies.”97 This was a reference to Anton Günther and others like him. The pope also promoted two of Günther’s principal accusers, Rauscher and Reisach, to the rank of cardinal on December 17, 1855. And just three days later, Pius IX made Reisach a member of the Congregation of the Index. The Viennese theologian’s most forceful opponent had now become one of his judges.
This unleashed a spate of votums within the Congregation of the Index. Following on from his excerpts from Günther’s works, Kleutgen authored many more detailed votums of the Viennese philosopher and his pupils. On April 23, 1854, there was a censor’s report on the first five volumes of Lydia, the yearbook of the Vienna School of philosophy. Four more detailed votums, totaling over three hundred printed pages, were produced for the conclusive meeting on January 8, 1857.98 In the Congregation of the Index, the hard-liners around Kleutgen and Cardinal Reisach called for a papal brief formally condemning Günther. Abbot Pappalettere, who had been a consultor of the Congregation of the Index since August 1856, and the Tyrolean Alois Flir,99 who had also been a consultor since February 1856, sided with the Index prefect, Cardinal D’Andrea, in calling for an acquittal.
In the end, the two sides reached a typical Roman compromise. There was no ceremonial condemnation via a papal brief—but nor was there an acquittal. Nine of Günther’s works were banned in a simple Index decree on January 8, 1857.100 But the decree was only publicized on February 17, once Günther had submitted to it. Cardinal D’Andrea may have lost the battle, having failed to prevent the indexing, but he published the judgment with an “addendum unique in the 400-year history of the Index.” This said that on February 10, Günther had “submitted uprightly, piously and laudably.”101 The usual wording was simply “He submitted laudably.”102
Kleutgen immediately informed like-minded comrades in Germany of the judgment. He was deeply dissatisfied with the lenient Index decree, and wanted to see a condemnation of Günther himself, rather than just his works. The things Günther had written, he said, were “injurious to the dogma.”103 With the help of Cardinal Geissel, who visited Rome in the spring of 1857, Reisach and Kleutgen managed to bypass the Congregation of the Index and its head, D’Andrea, and persuade the pope to produce a formal condemnation of Günther, ignoring the judgment that had already been enacted in the case. Hohenlohe could do nothing to stop Geissel from convincing Pius IX in an audience to publish the brief Eximiam Tuam. This appeared on June 15, 1857, and solemnly condemned Anton Günther’s teachings.104 It was also a personal attack on the Viennese philosopher, and called his Catholicism into question.
Kleutgen and Reisach had scored a total victory. Having failed to get their way through a proper court procedure, they persuaded Pius IX to revise his own judgment. This shows just how tractable this pope was, and how erratic in his decisions, which depended in each case on who had the pontiff’s ear. Since 1854, the liberals in Rome had hardly any access to Pius IX. He now trusted only the hard-liners and those with a Jesuit education.
Günther’s pupils in Germany and Rome knew who was to blame for their defeat: the new scholastics, and Kleutgen in particular. Günther spoke of the Jesuits as “rotten Aristotelians, who deserve to be slaughtered.” Sadly, they were still blithely going about their business in Rome, without having “scraped the old muck from their shoes.”105
There was now very little Günther’s pupils and friends could achieve for their mentor through Pope Pius IX. A resumption of the censorship trial with the aim of a revision was impossible: the Congregation of the Index couldn’t call a papal brief into question. But the defeated Güntherians in Rome wanted some kind of revenge. They even considered denouncing their adversaries, in particular the Jesuits’ chief thinkers, Kleutgen and Perrone, and getting them added to the Index of Forbidden Books as well. But this was a hopeless undertaking from the start: the new scholastics had a majority within the Congregation, and enjoyed the highest protection from the pope.
But with Kleutgen’s involvement in the Sant’Ambrogio case, the Güntherians had a unique opportunity to teach the movement’s chief ideologue a lesson, after all. This was much better than getting his books banned by the minor Congregation of the Index. It was a chance to get Kleutgen himself condemned by the Inquisition, and make it impossible for him to exert his influence again in Rome, or anywhere else. Once he had been convicted of heresy, complicity in an attempted murder, and seduction in the confessional—and with his notorious disregard for the verdicts of the highest Catholic authority exposed—he would be silenced once and for all. Or so Hohenlohe, Wolter, and Pappalettere hoped. At the very least, his days of damaging the liberal cause in the Catholic Church would be over: after this, he could no longer be a censor for the Congregation of the Index and the Inquisition, or provide advice and inspiration to the pope.
CHAPTER NINE
“Sorrowful and Contrite”
The Verdict and Its Consequences
CONSULTORS, CARDINALS, POPE: THE VERDICT
Once the investigating court had concluded the offensive process, it turned to the deciding level of the Holy Tribunal once more. The judges had summarized the interrogations of Maria Luisa, the abbess, Leziroli, and Kleutgen into four written Ristretti, listing the misdemeanors for which they had obtained confessions or conclusive proof. Based on these, the consultors of the congregation had to formulate a suggested decision. Then the cardinals would arrive at a verdict, which the Holy Office’s assessor would present to the pope for a final pronouncement.
The consultors always met on a Monday, and on January 27, 1862, they discussed the case of Sant’Ambrogio at length.1 There were sixteen members present.2
First, they addressed the consistent disregard that the nuns and confessors of Sant’Ambrogio, and their supporters in the Curia, had shown for the verdict passed o
n Agnese Firrao in 1816. The Holy Roman and Universal Inquisition saw this as an assault on its authority, and the wound had to be treated. The consultors were united on the first point of their votum: under threat of the harshest punishment, the nuns and confessors—in particular the special devotee of Firrao, Padre Leziroli—should be made to acknowledge once and for all that the decree against Firrao of February 8, 1816, had “never been lifted.” From that moment on, nobody would ever be allowed to say it had. There was to be no more veneration of Agnese Firrao, “whether verbal or written, private or public, direct or indirect, through word or deed.”
In the second point of their votum, the consultors declared themselves unanimously in favor of dissolving Sant’Ambrogio. The pope had already been considering this, in any case. Furthermore, the nuns and confessors should be given an ultimatum: they must hand over every copy of the order’s Rule and constitutions, and all Firrao’s other writings to the Holy Office at once, on pain of excommunication.
Turning their attention to the principal defendant, the former novice mistress and vicaress Maria Luisa Ridolfi, all the consultors present agreed that the charge of pretense of holiness had been clearly proven. The heresy of Molinosism was at work here once again, and was named as the root cause of all the other crimes. Maria Luisa should therefore make a formal abjuration of her faults before the Inquisition, and should be sentenced to monastic imprisonment in absolute isolation. She should not be allowed to communicate with anyone outside the convent walls. She must also stay away from the convent gate and the outer walls; this was a total ban on contact with the outside world. For three years, she should take only bread and water on Fridays, and for the rest of her life she must pray the Rosary every Saturday and beg forgiveness for her sins. She should also be assigned an “educated, clever” confessor, who would lead this lost soul back onto the right path.