Synopsis

The Drama of History

A Synopsis by Christopher Baker from Hartford Stage Production

When the Mortara family opened their door on the night of July 23, 1858, they could hardly have suspected that what was waiting for them would rip apart their family, involve diplomats, an emperor and a pope, and contribute to the unification of a country. Outside the door were the police—a frightening appearance in the Jewish ghetto of Bologna, then part of the papal territories, but not completely unusual. They had come with orders from Bologna’s Inquisitor himself, who had information that six-year old Edgardo Mortara had been baptized by a family servant and was thus considered a Christian. According to the law at that time, no Christian could live in a Jewish household. Edgardo was taken from his family and sent to the catechumens in Rome to begin his schooling in the Catholic faith.

Edgardo’s father, Momolo, was enraged, determined that a mistake had been made, that the servant had lied and the law could be contested. Marianna, Edgardo’s mother, was crushed, unable to comprehend the logic that would wrench a mother and child apart. The Mortaras enlisted the aid of the Jewish communities in Bologna and Rome. Momolo sought out the servant, a young catholic woman, who had long since left their employ. She had baptized Edgardo, she said, because he was ill and she feared he would die. While those working on the case set about to discredit her story, her reputation, and the motives behind her coming forward, others prepared extensive briefs based on canon law to argue for the boy’s release. Letters came from foreign dignitaries. It was all to no avail. Pope Pius IX had taken a personal interest in Edgardo’s salvation. If any in the Church’s hierarchy were inclined towards compromise, Pius IX was not one of them.

The incident was, in its time, a celebrated case, with outspoken advocates and critics on both sides. To most Italian Jews, it was one more incident in a long line of oppressive and humiliating anti-Semitic acts by the Church. To the many anti-clerical forces throughout Europe, it was another indication that the Pope’s government had to go. To defenders of the Church, the Mortaras were partially to blame for their predicament because they had violated a law forbidding Christian servants to work in Jewish homes. Though these apologists disapproved of baptism without parental consent, once it was performed there was no undoing its sacramental powers. The law that demanded Edgardo be taken from his parents was put in place to protect souls. To Pius IX, Edgardo became his spiritual child, whom the pontiff felt obliged to protect from all other claims.

Despite worldwide notoriety, Edgardo’s abduction became slightly more than a footnote as the chronicles of Italy in the nineteenth century were written. “Why has the Mortara case attracted so little attention from historians?” wrote Brown University social anthropologist David Kertzer. “It represents one of the significant episodes in the unification of Italy, and yet it has been largely ignored.” Kertzer takes up his own challenge in the painstakingly researched 1997 book, The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, which drew critical praise from around the world, and became a National Book Award finalist. Shortly after the book’s publication, Alfred Uhry, winner of the Tony, Pulitzer and Academy Awards, became intrigued by Kertzer’s account of this incredible event. The result was the play Edgardo Mine (now The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara), which had its world premiere at Hartford Stage under the direction of Doug Hughes, former Artistic Director of Long Wharf Theatre in New Haven. The play follows the taking of Edgardo on that fateful night, the journey of his parents to reclaim Edgardo, and the increasing personal interest that Pius IX himself took in the boy’s fate.

The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara is not the first play based on the Mortara affair. By 1861, at least three had appeared—Victor Sejour’s The Fortune Teller in France, Herman Moos’ Mortara or the Pope and his Inquisitor in the United States and Riccardo Castelvecchoi’s The Jewish Family in Italy. Written in the midst of the controversy, the plays could not help but be polemics for the authors’ views on the incident and on the politics of papal rule and Italy in general. The real-life drama of Edgardo Mortara had become, for people throughout Europe and beyond, a representation of the problems and conflicts of 19th-century Italy. The story spread as newspapers around the world ran front-page articles—many filled with sensational, but untrue, details. The more the Church and Pius IX were criticized, the more resolute the pontiff became. Ironically, as Pius held on tighter to Edgardo, the more he lost of the Papal States and the temporal authority over his flock. Italy was literally changing around him.

Pius IX

The taking of Edgardo came at a precarious time for Pius. Elected in 1846, he was not only the spiritual leader of Catholics around the globe, but also the civil head of The Papal States, which cut across central Italy from Rome to Ferrara. Known as “Pio Nono,” Pius IX was expected to be a much more liberal pontiff than his predecessor, Gregory XVI. In his first years Pius declared political amnesty, lifted restrictions on speech and set up city and state councils. In Rome, as in other cities, Jews were forced to live in designated areas, with strict rules limiting their commerce, travel and exercise of religion. These areas, often separated by walls from the rest of the city, are the enclaves for which the term “ghetto” was coined, after the 16th-century Venetian settlement on the site of a medieval foundry (getto being the Italian for foundry). One of Pius’ first acts was to have the walls of the Roman ghetto torn down and some of the restrictions relaxed.

But this was the age of nationalists Mazzini and Garibaldi, of Cavour and the Risorgimento — a new spirit toppling the kingdoms of old in the rebirth of a unified Italy. As God’s representative on earth, Pius had no intention of giving up his temporal kingdom, which he felt was necessarily and inexorably linked to his religious authority. In spite of—or because of—Pius’ absolutism, the Papal States were plagued with movements for Italian unification and uprisings against Austria, the dominant power in the region after the defeat of Napoleon I.

1848 saw rebellion throughout Italy. In Rome, the papal Prime Minister, Count Rossi, was assassinated. Pius IX was forced to flee to Gaeta, north of Naples, disguised as a simple priest. When the old order was restored Pius returned, a liberal no more. French troops reinstated papal rule and protected the city. Old restrictions returned. Pius was now at war with nationalism, technology, social progress, and the secularization of Europe — with modernity itself. In the midst of diplomatic and military battles, the Church’s allies were annoyed that the Pope had taken an intractable position on Edgardo Mortara. When another Jewish boy, Giuseppe Coen, was taken to the House of Catechumens against his parents’ wishes, France grew impatient with the pontiff. If Pius needed international support — and French soldiers — to maintain his sovereignty, the Mortara and Coen cases did not help. In Paris, Napoleon III and Cavour, the prime minister of Piedmont, formed a secret alliance to drive Austria from Italy in anticipation of a unified Italy, including the Papal States.

By 1861 Pius saw most of his dominions annexed to the new kingdom of Italy. In the midst of it all, the Pope called the Vatican Council (Vatican I) to address issues of the age. While the Pope saw much of his temporal power slip away, the council affirmed his spiritual authority with the dogma of infallibility. With the onset of the Franco-Prussian war in 1870, French troops, Pius’ last defense, left Rome. The kingdom of Italy proclaimed the city the capital, and the Pope was left “a prisoner of the Vatican.” In 1867 Pius wrote to Edgardo, reflecting on the “high price” his devotion to keeping Edgardo had cost him:

Your case set off a worldwide storm against me and the Apostolic See. Governments and people, rulers of the world as well as the journalists — who are the truly powerful people of our times — declared war on me. Monarchs themselves entered the battle against me, and with their ambassadors they flooded me with diplomatic notes, and all this because of you….

Shortly after Edgardo was moved to the catechumens, his parents traveled to Rome and were able to see him several times, always under the watchful gaze of the Rector or another official. After the Mortaras returned home, Edgardo would not see his father again. Despite the pleas of foreign governments and the cries of a heartbroken mother, Edgardo was never returned to his parents. His mother saw him in 1878, when Edgardo was twenty-seven years old. By then he had become a priest. He had added “Pio” to his name, in honor of his protector, Pio Nono. Edgardo was a much sought after speaker, whose fantastic tale of conversion and knowledge of many languages made him a great draw. He spent the end of his life in an abbey in Bouhay, Belgium, where he died in 1940. Nearly one hundred and fifty years after he was taken from his parents’ home, Edgardo Mortara’s life remains a stirring story of power, faith, the clash of wills and the changing landscape of a nation.

~ Christopher Baker

Much of the information in this essay can be found in The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara by David Kertzer . All quotations are taken from that book. Other sources include Europe by Norman Davies, How the Pope Became Infallible by August Bernard Hasler, Italy in the Nineteenth Century, edited by John A. Davis and The Oxford Dictionary of Popes by J.N.D. Kelly.

Alfred Uhry began his career as a lyric writer, under contract to the late Frank Loesser. In that capacity he made his Broadway debut in 1968 with Here's Where I Belong. He then wrote the book and lyrics for The Robber Bridegroom and was nominated for a Tony Award. In 1987 his first play, Driving Miss Daisy, opened at Playwrights Horizons Theatre in New York. It was subsequently moved to the John Houseman Theatre where it ran for over 1300 performances. The play earned many awards, including the Outer Critics Circle Award and the 1988 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. For the film version, Mr. Uhry won an Academy Award, and the film itself was voted Best Picture of the Year. Other films include Mystic Pizza and Rich in Love. Mr. Uhry's second play, The Last Night Of Ballyhoo, which was commissioned by the Cultural Olympiad for the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, opened on Broadway in February 1997 and won the 1997 Tony Award. His book for Parade, a musical about the Leo Frank case, with music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown and directed by Harold Prince, won the 1999 Tony Award. His recent play Without Walls premiered at The Williamstown Theatre Festival this past summer. Hartford Stage audiences last saw Mr. Uhry’s work in his 1985 collaboration with Robert Waldman and John Weidman on the musical America’s Sweetheart.