The Nuns of Sant'Ambrogio: The True Story of a Convent in Scandal (8 page)

Then, on July 25, her salvation arrived in the shape of the archbishop of Edessa. Hohenlohe was her “guardian angel,” come to rescue his cousin. “It all went well—my prayers were fulfilled—and I was understood”—as Katharina explained to the inquisitor. “I took off the sacred convent robes with tears in my eyes, and left the convent of Sant’Ambrogio at half past three in the afternoon, on July 26, 1859.”

Katharina’s written complaint was very nuanced. After studying the text thoroughly, Sallua had only a few questions, which he put to the princess in writing. She answered these by letter, and wasn’t required to return to Rome. She was also able to provide information on where certain of the mother founder’s papers were hidden.
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THE SAVIOR’S PERSPECTIVE

The first person outside the walls of Sant’Ambrogio to whom Katharina spoke about her experiences in the convent was her savior, Archbishop Gustav Adolf zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst. On the road to Tivoli, and during the weeks they spent together at the Villa d’Este, his summer residence, he was able to form a more detailed picture of his cousin’s state, and assess the events she related to him.
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At his Inquisition hearing, Hohenlohe immediately reminded the inquisitor of the central role Cardinal Reisach had played in Katharina’s entry into Sant’Ambrogio. He seemed to have guided her well: at first, everything went splendidly. Katharina was “content and cheerful.” Sant’Ambrogio appeared to be the perfect place for his cousin to lead her cloistered life, and her relationships with the other nuns were almost ideal. Then there came a surprising change, toward the end of 1858. “In December a certain Garzia, a servant in the convent, came to me late at night with the news that the princess was in a very poor state of health. He did not tell me the exact circumstances; he only spoke very little.” Hohenlohe was unable to leave the Vatican, as he had duties in the pope’s household that he couldn’t put off, and he spent “a very oppressive night.”

Gustav Adolf zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfurst rescued his cousin Katharina from the convent of Sant’Ambrogio. (
illustration credit 1.2
)

When Hohenlohe arrived at the convent early next morning, the abbess and the novice mistress seemed very concerned about the princess’s condition. “But they told me flatly that I could not go to her, as she was out of her mind with pain.” The archbishop wasn’t put off so easily, however, and he insisted they tell him more about his cousin’s illness. Finally he received the information that she had suffered a “syncope.” This meant a circulatory collapse, which could have any number of causes, from impaired circulation in the brain to a cardiac irregularity, or a metabolic disorder. They told Hohenlohe he should come back in an hour or two with a blessing from the pope. He went to Pius IX, obtained his blessing, and, on his return, met Leziroli in the sacristy, from whom he demanded the right to be allowed to
see his cousin. “He answered abruptly that I would be doing Luisa Maria a great favor if I did not visit her. This was her express wish. She wanted to be alone at this terrible time, and did not wish to be disturbed.”

At this moment, as Hohenlohe recalled, it became clear to him that those in charge of Sant’Ambrogio were doing everything in their power to keep him from seeing his sick cousin. He was angered and deeply offended by this, and resorted to invoking his authority as a bishop and close friend of the pope. He accused Leziroli of acting in his “typical girlish way” even in this serious matter. “I needed to see Katharina urgently, and was adamant that I would achieve this.” He therefore ordered them to open the door to her cell. After a “remarkably long time” he was finally led into his cousin’s chamber. “I found her there with her face aglow, and with a glassy stare; I was shocked at how dazed she was.” It was impossible to have a private conversation, as the novice mistress and two other nuns remained in Katharina’s cell the whole time. He could sense there was something Katharina wanted to tell him, but couldn’t while her guardians were in the room. When he asked about the cause of her illness, she merely pointed to the madre vicaria and said, “Do tell him what I am suffering from!”

The archbishop didn’t press her further, instead inquiring whether she needed anything from him or her relatives. Katharina was very “offended” by his apparent reluctance to get to the bottom of the matter, ending the conversation by telling him it would be best for him to follow the rules and refrain from visiting her again. Sant’Ambrogio was a strictly enclosed convent, and its statutes barred visitors from the clausura. The madre vicaria reminded him of this fact forcefully on his way out. “The whole thing left me with a feeling of great sadness, and I went away deeply pained.”

This begs the question of why Hohenlohe and his cousin didn’t just speak to each other in their native German. The other nuns present in Katharina’s cell spoke no German, so the two could have exchanged the relevant information without revealing themselves to the others. In her written complaint, Katharina explained that she had consciously spoken Italian throughout her illness so that Maria Luisa would understand her every word, in an attempt to avoid angering her.
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Immediately after his visit, Hohenlohe sought out Katharina’s
confessor, Padre Peters, in the Jesuit college near the Il Gesù church.
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He was hoping that Peters could shed more light on his cousin’s illness. But in this he was disappointed. The Jesuit merely told him he was certain “she would die the following night, as the sickness in her heart left her with only a few hours to live.” These words enraged the archbishop. What made the Jesuit so sure he could predict Katharina’s death with such precision?

Several members of the convent, and the doctors treating her, repeatedly advised against Hohenlohe paying Katharina another visit, and he didn’t go to see her again for six months. Even Cardinal Patrizi told him the princess wished to be left in peace, and didn’t want to see him. What made Cardinal Patrizi side with the abbess, the novice mistress, the confessors, and Katharina’s doctors to keep Hohenlohe away and prevent him speaking to her in private? Did they have something to hide, or were they simply trying to protect her?

Hohenlohe heeded the high-ranking cardinal’s advice. He only returned to Sant’Ambrogio to see his cousin in the summer of 1859—but he was denied entry. “The following day she sent me a letter, in which she begged me on Christ’s mercy
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to come to her and have her called to the parlatory. I set off for the convent at once.” Several nuns came out to meet him and begged him to dissuade the princess from leaving the convent, because they loved her so much. Finally, Hohenlohe managed to speak to the princess in private. She first thanked him for his letter, in which he had reminded her of her religious calling and encouraged her to remain in her cloistered state. But then she said: “At this moment, it is not a question of my calling; it is simply a matter of saving my life and my soul, as I am afraid I will die here without the presence of the father confessor.” Frightened, she told him of that night in December, when she had almost died without Padre Peters looking in on her once, though he had spent all night in the convent.

Finally, Katharina voiced her suspicion “that this illness was brought on by illicit and poisonous substances mixed into her medicines, and her food and drink.” Katharina was convinced it was only Hohenlohe’s visit in December that had saved her life and prevented further attacks on her person. “She was afraid that something like this would happen again, and begged me for the love of God to take her away from there.” She had already written to the cardinal vicar
and the Holy Father, begging them to let her leave the convent “on health grounds.” She hadn’t mentioned to either of them the real reason for her desire to get out of Sant’Ambrogio as quickly as possible: the fact that somebody was trying to murder her.

Hohenlohe also spoke to Katharina’s spiritual guide, Cardinal Reisach. The interview with the cardinal must have left him with a very conflicted impression. Hohenlohe thought his cousin’s fear of poisoning would be news to Reisach, but the cardinal had been in the picture for months, apparently informed by Peters. Reisach simply hadn’t thought it necessary to inform Katharina’s closest relative in Rome. Hohenlohe also told the Inquisition that Cardinal Reisach had leapt to defend the convent, especially its beautiful young madre vicaria and the father confessor Peters, against all the accusations. He called Katharina fanciful and thought she had imagined the whole poisoning affair. The noble lady just had “too much imagination.” She should subordinate herself once more to the guidance of her confessor “with blind obedience,” as befitted a nun.

After much insistence from Hohenlohe, Reisach finally had to concede that poison had been found in Katharina’s soup. The cardinal put this down to an “oversight in the kitchen,” an accidental “contamination” of the ladle. He dismissed the story about a letter “filled with obscenities and immoral things” that the novice mistress had supposedly given Katharina to read, saying that this was beyond belief. But at least neither of the two clerics was willing to attribute the incident to the influence of the devil.

Hohenlohe remained suspicious. When exactly had Reisach been informed of what was happening in Sant’Ambrogio? Why didn’t he step in, as was his duty as Katharina’s spiritual guide? Was the Jesuit sympathizer protecting the Jesuit confessor, Padre Peters, even if it meant the possible death of Princess von Hohenzollern?

In Tivoli, Katharina told her cousin she had made a will during her illness, leaving the greater part of her wealth to the convent. The bequest was made on the provision that a new convent would be founded as a daughter institution to Sant’Ambrogio, with the novice mistress, Maria Luisa, as its first abbess. A solid gold heart should go to the Jesuit church Il Gesù. Katharina explained that the madre vicaria had been “very concerned” that the will might fall into Hohenlohe’s hands during his visit in December, thinking that he
would immediately persuade the princess to alter it. Once she was in Tivoli, Hohenlohe did just that: on his advice, Katharina revoked the will, though she didn’t claim back her dowry from the convent.
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Their conversations in Tivoli convinced Hohenlohe that his cousin wasn’t talking nonsense. By and large, Katharina’s denunciation tallied with his perspective on what had taken place in Sant’Ambrogio. He, too, saw the madre vicaria as the main culprit in this affair. The archbishop was certain that Maria Luisa had hated the princess from the moment the latter uncovered her affair with the Americano. But he laid more blame than his cousin did at the feet of the Jesuit confessor Padre Peters. In Hohenlohe’s view, Peters’s prediction of Katharina’s imminent demise made him at least a passive accomplice to the poisoning. And there was more: Hohenlohe also believed that Cardinals Patrizi and Reisach, high-ranking friends of the pope, were caught up in the matter—though how, or to what extent, was not yet clear to him.

CHAPTER TWO