The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, page 29
The friar Pier Gaetano Feletti of the Order of Preachers, and former Inquisitor of the Holy Office, arrested January 2, 1860. Lieutenant Colonel Luigi De Dominicis of the Pontifical Police, who has fled to the Dominions of the Holy Faith.
The charge, then, was abduction. In addition to Father Feletti, De Dominicis was charged, but not Lucidi or Agostini. The logic employed was that De Dominicis, as the head of the Bologna police, was responsible for determining whether the order given him by the Inquisitor was legal, whereas those under his command could not be held responsible for obeying a direct order from their superior. More to the point, perhaps, was De Dominicis’s status as a symbol of the abuses of papal power and craven collaboration with the Austrian occupiers. Memories of his recent cowardly assault on unarmed students at the university were still vivid. The police chief, no doubt recognizing the risks of remaining in Bologna after the fall of papal power, had fled along with the Cardinal Legate, seeking safety in what remained of the Papal States.
On January 23, three weeks after Father Feletti’s arrest, he had his first visitor, the prosecuting magistrate Carboni, who had come to the friar’s cell to hear his story. “He seems to be aged 65,” Carboni wrote in his report of their meeting, “of average height, his hair is gray, as are his eyelashes and eyebrows, with a large forehead, dark eyes, big nose, evenly proportioned mouth, round chin, and oval face.” Carboni asked him to identify himself:
I am Father Pier Gaetano Feletti, aged 62, born in Comacchio, resident in Bologna, member of the religious family of the order of Dominicans. I have been in this city since I was sent here by the Holy Pontiff in 1838 to serve as the chief Inquisitor of the Holy Office. I always exercised that office with a prudent moderation which the whole city could count on, and operated in conformity with the orders of the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office in Rome, on which I depended.…
In responding to your interrogations, I do not intend to renounce that Canon privilege that the Church gives me not to be tried by an incompetent court. I believe that it is my duty to say this if I am to avoid running the risk of incurring ecclesiastical censure myself.
Father Feletti’s claim of ecclesiastical privilege made no impression on Carboni, who warned the prisoner that he was obligated to tell the truth, to answer the questions that the magistrate would put to him. The privilege of which he spoke, Carboni informed him, had been abolished by the government’s recent proclamations. Now all citizens were equal before the law.
Asked to describe his arrest, Father Feletti told of being roused from his sleep, getting hurriedly dressed, being informed of the charge against him, and refusing to answer the questions put to him because to do so would violate his sacred oath of silence. “How can they charge me with a crime against public tranquillity for something that took place two years ago by order of the Government that was then in office? How,” the Inquisitor added, “could they proceed with such severity against a functionary of the Holy See simply because he did his duty and obeyed the commands of the Head of the Catholic Church?” Yet the friar expressed his deep faith: “I bow my head before the decisions made in Heaven, I put myself in God’s hands alone, trusting in His mercy.”
In the three weeks that Father Feletti had spent pondering his predicament since his arrest, he had decided that there were some things about the Mortara case that he could say without violating his oath, and he was eager to say them. Since certain aspects of the episode had become public knowledge, he told Carboni, there was no harm in trying to set these straight.
Despite this preface, what Feletti first had to say was anything but public knowledge, for it regarded his communication with the Holy Office in Rome. The point would turn out to be a critical one, for as the trial evolved, a key issue became whether the Inquisitor had acted on his own or had simply been following orders from on high. “Having learned that the boy Edgardo Mortara had been baptized while in danger of death,” he told the magistrate, “the Supreme Sacred Congregation ordered that this child be taken to Rome to the House of Catechumens, and I was given responsibility for [the order’s] execution.”
Lest the prosecutor miss his point, Father Feletti reiterated that in having the child taken from his family and sent to Rome, he had done nothing other than “carry out the orders that were given me by the Supreme Tribunal of the Holy Office in Rome, which never promulgates any decree without the consent of the Roman Pontiff, the Supreme Head of the Catholic Church.”
In seeing that the order was carried out, Father Feletti hastened to add, he had taken every possible precaution to ensure that only the gentlest means of persuasion were employed. He had, in particular, been at pains to persuade Edgardo’s mother to give her son up “spontaneously,” and he had even granted a twenty-four-hour stay toward this end. This had had the desired effect. When Momolo visited him on the afternoon of June 24, the friar reported, the two of them agreed on a plan “to induce his wife to let her son go, and in fact the mother, in complete tranquillity, left her son.”
Where the Inquisitor drew the line was in answering any questions on the sources of his information, on how he first heard that Edgardo had been baptized, or what he had done to see if the rumors were true. The frustrated magistrate asked Father Feletti to give him at least the names of people who could verify his claim that the child had been baptized. “The Tribunal of the Supreme Sacred Inquisition in Rome,” responded the former inquisitor, “the Prefect of which is the Vicar of Jesus Christ, Pope Pius IX, is the one best informed of the matters you are asking me about.”
“You say that the order to take the Mortara child from his family came from the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office in Rome,” the magistrate countered. “Do you have any means of supporting that claim?”
“The proof that I can adduce … is the faith that the Roman Pontiff placed in me, although I am but his miserable and humble servant. And another proof,” Father Feletti added, “comes from the good people of the city of Bologna, who have always regarded me kindly, believing me incapable of abusing the office that the Roman Pontiff has entrusted to me.”
Under questioning from Carboni, Father Feletti went on to describe the orders he had given to Colonel De Dominicis, his preparation of the list of names of the Mortara children, and his warning to Marshal Lucidi to keep a close watch on the Mortara home during the daylong vigil, given the danger that the Jews might decide to sacrifice their son rather than give him up to the Church.
It was getting late, and Carboni told the Inquisitor that he had to go. But the friar who, three weeks earlier, had refused to respond to any questions had more now that he wanted to say. He had not yet had the chance to tell of Edgardo’s trip to Rome, nor of the boy’s wish to become a Christian and leave his parents behind. It was a tale that, in the friar’s eyes, provided proof enough that his actions had been not only legal but providential, guided by the hand of God.
He got to tell Carboni his story the next day, beginning with the very moment when, on the evening of June 23, 1858, the Mortara family first learned that Edgardo had been baptized and would be taken away. While “his brothers and sisters all cried at this news,” said Father Feletti, “Edgardo remained quiet and tranquil. And then on the evening of June 24, when he had to get ready to leave, he let the carabinieri help him get dressed. His spirit was serene, and he was completely at ease and happy.” And then on the voyage to Rome, “when it was time to stop to let the horses cool off and to get something to eat, Edgardo often asked the marshal to take him to church.”
In Rome, the boy’s inspiring saga continued:
Seeing so much happiness in the boy for having become Christian, the Holy Pontiff, in his wisdom, always guided as he is by the Holy Spirit … arranged to have the boy’s father and mother called to Rome. He put two seats in a stagecoach at their disposition so that they themselves could judge their son Edgardo’s desire to remain in the Christian religion.…
In fact, once they got to Rome, Edgardo’s parents were given permission to speak with their son together with the Rabbi of Rome. These three did all they could, using all the arguments they knew, to persuade the boy to return with them. But he, all by himself, a child of about nine years [sic], knew how to protect himself from his father’s, his mother’s, and the Rabbi’s temptations. He told them that he was a Christian, and he wanted to live and die as a Christian.
Moreover, he added that he would “pray to God for the conversion of his father, his mother, and his brothers and sisters.” Said Father Feletti, “I do not know whether it was just once, or more often, that the two parents spoke with their son. But I do know that the boy had a number of meetings with the Rabbi of Rome, and that he always remained firm in his desire to remain a Christian.”
Father Feletti then gave his version of the encounter in Alatri: “At the time the Mortara parents were staying in Rome, which was in the month of October, or thereabouts, the Rector of the Catechumens took Edgardo on a holiday for a few days. Having learned about it, the Mortaras went to that same place. Waiting for the chance that would present itself when the Rector went to say mass and Edgardo was assisting him … they entered the church and approached the boy.” Fortunately, Edgardo was alert to the danger. “Seeing his mother, who, perhaps, was thinking of kidnapping him, he clung to the Rector’s habit and shouted as loudly as he could: ‘Mamma wants to take me away!’ Those around him were thus warned, and, realizing that they were unprotected, they left the church. The boy remained with the Rector, and they returned right to the Catechumens in Rome.”
Learning of the narrow escape, the Pope “decided to move the boy to the College of the Lateran Canons in San Pietro in Vincoli, where he can still be found today, doing very well, and studying in such a way as to promise much success.” Indeed, Father Feletti concluded, one day the boy will prove to be “his family’s support and pride, since baptism does not annul the ties of blood but, rather, reinforces respect for them, and so Edgardo will have more love for his parents than do his other brothers and sisters.”
The Magistrate, hearing this amazing story of the little boy who suddenly saw the light, rejected the religion in which he had been raised, embraced Christianity with all his soul, and clung to the priest’s robes to protect him from his mother, was skeptical. “Do you have any means of proving the facts you have stated?”
“As for what happened in Bologna,” the friar responded, “I can only point to Agostini and Marshal Lucidi. For what happened along the voyage, there is only Agostini. As for the facts in Rome, I received my information, through letters, from individuals deserving of full faith, but I cannot give you their names.”2
Father Feletti had now said what he wanted to say. Carboni left. The warden turned the key to his cell as the magistrate left the friar to his prayers and his thoughts.
Having heard from the Inquisitor, Carboni was now eager to hear from the victims, from Momolo and Marianna. This turned out to be difficult, for the Mortaras were not easy to locate, as they no longer lived in Bologna. Carboni requested, and received, authorization to petition the authorities of the Kingdom of Sardinia to summon Momolo to testify, but he learned that Momolo happened to be in Florence on business. Carboni discovered that Marianna’s uncle Angelo Padovani, the banker, who was still living in Bologna, was in touch with him. On February 1, Padovani was called in to the prosecutor’s offices and given a written request to pass on to Momolo as soon as possible, asking him to report to the Bologna prosecutor. Five days later Momolo appeared in Bologna to testify.
Carboni invited Momolo to tell about his son’s kidnapping. Once he got started, it was hard to stop him. He told of the appearance at his home on the evening of June 23 of Marshal Lucidi and Agostini, his horror on learning of their mission, and the desperate attempts over the next twenty-four hours to keep them from taking Edgardo.
When Momolo’s torrent of pained recollections ceased, Carboni seized on the points that were of most interest to him.
“Did Marshal Lucidi ever show you any written order that the boy be taken?”
“No.”
“Do you know for a fact, as you have said, that the order in question came from Rome, and that the proof of the baptism was undertaken by that Tribunal?”
“I was never able to learn anything about it.”
“Do you have any complaints about the behavior of the police in the way that they carried out their order?”
“No, I can’t complain. The Marshal kissed me many times, and many of his men were clearly moved by our tears and our desolation.”
“Didn’t the Father Inquisitor attempt to persuade you to give up your son voluntarily, to avoid having to separate you by force?”
“I was so beside myself that I can’t recall if the Father Inquisitor tried to persuade me to give him up spontaneously. The fact is, though, that I gave him up only because of force. Without that, they would never have gotten my son.”
“And yet, the Father Inquisitor … has said that, having assured you that your child would be brought up and educated in those sciences for which he had most inclination, so that he would one day be able to support you, he was able to persuade you, so that you left quietly, and you went home to persuade the boy’s mother to leave her son behind. Isn’t that true?”
“It’s false! Father Feletti may have used those arguments to try to convince me, but I wasn’t persuaded in the least, nor did I go home to persuade my wife.”
In fact, Momolo told the magistrate, at the time he went to see the Inquisitor, his wife had already gone to the Vitta home.
“And the boy, Edgardo, how did he feel about being taken from you and from your family?”
“The boy remained in bed until one o’clock in the afternoon, and though he may have realized to some extent that the police had come for him, we tried to hide it from him so as not to injure his health. Then it was all so sudden when they took him from my arms, and took him away, that I couldn’t tell you whether he shouted or what he said, especially since at that moment I was practically in a daze myself. I have heard people say, though, that on his trip he kept asking for his parents and for his Mezuzah, which is a kind of medallion of our religion.”
“And how did your son behave during the visits that you and your wife had with him in Rome?”
“Although he was frightened, and intimidated by the Rector’s presence, he openly declared his desire to return home with us.”
Perhaps Carboni felt that, for all its peculiarities, the Mortara case was not unlike many other criminal trials he had known. Accuser and accused had entirely different accounts of what had happened. The task of the Magistrate was to provoke his witnesses in such a way that the truth would come out:
“You should know,” Carboni told Momolo, “that Father Feletti has said that from the moment you and your wife were told … that … Edgardo, having been baptized, had to be turned over to the Church, the boy … remained unperturbed, and that while the other brothers and sisters all cried, he remained quiet and tranquil. That the next evening he let the police help him get dressed, showing the same lack of concern and happiness.” And then, on his way to Rome, Edgardo constantly asked to be taken to church. Carboni continued his paraphrase of Father Feletti’s testimony, leading Momolo to believe that he found it convincing.
The Inquisitor’s story, replied Momolo, was but a litany of lies.
When the police arrived, and for several hours afterward, Edgardo slept soundly. When he finally woke up and saw the police, he was seized by convulsive trembling, which lasted until full sunrise. And when we offered him some food to give him strength, he refused to eat before having said our morning prayer, for it is prohibited to eat before reciting it. In fact, he then recited the prayer with the prayer book open, as the police can attest, but even so he could eat very little the whole day because his system was upset. He got up late, and he got dressed without anyone’s help, other than the usual assistance from his mother, who had him put on his usual clothes, along with a cap, something that doesn’t bother him at all, because all his other brothers wear one when they go out of the house.
No Jewish boy should leave his head uncovered.
At the meetings with Edgardo in Rome, no rabbi had ever been present—as the Inquisitor had claimed—but, rather, once or twice Signor Scazzocchio, the secretary of the Jewish community, had accompanied him. And the Inquisitor’s claim that it was the Pope who had invited Momolo and Marianna to Rome, much less paid their way, was “falsissima.” As for the boy’s alleged fright at being accosted by his mother in the church at Alatri, Marianna had never come anywhere near the church, remaining at the Rector’s home while Momolo went in search of their son.
The Magistrate then turned his attention to the question of the baptism itself, for if there had been no valid baptism, the Inquisitor would have had no legal right to order Edgardo taken from his parents. Anna Morisi took center stage.
“How long was Morisi working for you?”
“About six years, with some interruptions of a few months here and there, and she left for good five or six months before our son was taken from us. She quit after having some words with my wife. She had worked for us for so long, she seemed to think that she should be the boss and do things her own way.”
Had she gone away angry? asked Carboni. Was there reason to fear a vendetta?
“For some time there was less than perfect harmony between her and us, though we bore it with more good nature and patience than we should have. But there weren’t any bad feelings of a sort that would reasonably lead to any fear of a vendetta.”
“Who took care of little Edgardo at the time he was sick and was said to have been baptized by Morisi? Did she ever have him in her care by herself?”
“She never cared for him alone, not even at the time of that illness.… At night we kept him in a cradle beside our bed and during the day in a bedroom where his mother watched over him.”
