Veil of Fear: Nineteenth-Century Convent Tales

Rating:
Summary: Anti-Catholic bigotry at it's finest.
Review: The editors comment "These convent tales by Reed and Monk are classics that must be read by those interested in American studies, popular culture, social and religious history, literature, and women's studies." is clearly taken from the "anything for a buck" school of "Publishing For Fun and Profit."

That's like saying "Mien Kemp" is must reading for everyone who seeks a deeper understanding of Jewish religious history and their love of God.

Anti-Christian and specifically anti-Catholic bigotry is once again raising it's head from the cesspool of so called "politically correct" thinking. Make no mistake about this book and what it really is. It's a profit seeking re-publication of some of the most flaming, hate provoking semi-truths, half-truths and outright lies ever to be shamefully published in America.

Not too many years ago no reputable company would even think about offering this trash for sale. They wouldn't want their name to be associated with it. Today, Amason.com seems to be proud of it.

The biggest mistake the publisher made was not including a free sheet with every purchase; so the reader could fit in at the next KKK barbeque.

What next? A new publication of "Bigotry For Dummies"??? Wait a minute, maybe that's not a bad idea.

Rating:
Summary: Fascinating look into history
Review: These tales aren't great literature, but they are an interesting read--fast-paced and determined to be sensational. Reed's tale led to the 1834 burning of the Ursuline convent near Boston, and Monk's highly fictionalized tale cashes in the interest surrounding the event. Both stories provide a fascinating look into the morass of nineteenth-century anti-Catholic prejudices and anti-immigrant xenophobia. The excellent introduction provides some much-needed context.

Rating:
Summary: Gothic tales of strange rites in our midst
Review: This book contains two reprints of hard to find 19th century books. The first, Reed's -Six Months in a Convent-, is a factual if unsympathetic account by a former student and novice at an Ursuline convent school in Charlestown, Massachussetts. The convent was burnt to the ground by a mob shortly before the book was published, after one of the nuns attempted to escape and was persuaded to return, and a rumour was started that she was being held against her will. Reed died shortly after its publication, of tuberculosis that was said to be the result of the austerities she practised.

The second and more interesting of the two books is the more well known -Awful Disclosures of the Hotel-Dieu Nunnery- by Maria Monk. This is a fictitious libel, but its seriousness is undermined by the fantastic story told. A warren of secret passages and other Gothic trappings honeycomb the convent. The nuns are there basically to serve as a harem for Roman Catholic priests. Bizarre religious justifications are urged on the sisters for this practise. Any children they beget are first baptised, then slaughtered, and buried in a secret cemetery in the convent. This lurid tale is better told than Reed's; Monk, or her amanuenses, were better writers than Reed's.

Monk's tale, of course, was a deliberate hoax, made to capitalise on the fame and market for anti-Catholic horror stories. Since Reed's book became a best-seller, an even more extravagant story had every good prospect of making money. Unfortunately, not for Maria Monk, who made little from her tale. She had apparently suffered a brain injury in her childhood that left her unable to distinguish fact from fantasy, and as such was a perfect and convincing patsy for her collaborators in creating this tale. She also died young in distressing circumstances.

Roman Catholics were an exotic species in early 19th century America. They were the subject of more or less traditional hostility from Protestant Americans. The secrecy of the cloister, and the exotic rituals and language of the Roman Church, made the Gothic literary style a good fit to write anti-Catholic fictions. Maria Monk's book is in fact largely in the tradition of -The Monk-, Matthew Lewis's lurid fictional tale of a priest who made a bargain with the Devil for carnal pleasure.

At this distance, when the right of Roman Catholics to practice their faith stands on a firmer foundation than it did in the early 19th century, those who take pleasure in lurid Gothic tales may also take pleasure in these as well. They are not great literature. They are, however, historically significant. And if you can put aside indignation --- excited either by the tales they tell, or the fact that they were ever published --- they are simultaneously sad, exciting, and ironically amusing, just like the best Gothic fiction.

The editor's introduction, unfortunately, seems to advance airy academic notions that are unlikely, but all too familiar. The hypothesis is ventured that the destroyed convent was a threat to Bostonians and their "patriarchy" because it represented a community of sexually independent and educated women. Toni Morrison is invoked to support this notion. Reading her introduction, you could almost forget that she's talking about nuns bound by oaths of obedience to a male hierarchy. Rebecca Reed's indignant descriptions of debasing penances seem more informed by a spirit of liberation than the introduction.

Rating:
Summary: Gothic tales of strange rites in our midst
Review: This book contains two reprints of hard to find 19th century books. The first, Reed's -Six Months in a Convent-, is a factual if unsympathetic account by a former student and novice at an Ursuline convent school in Charlestown, Massachussetts. The convent was burnt to the ground by a mob shortly before the book was published, after one of the nuns attempted to escape and was persuaded to return, and a rumour was started that she was being held against her will. Reed died shortly after its publication, of tuberculosis that was said to be the result of the austerities she practised.

The second and more interesting of the two books is the more well known -Awful Disclosures of the Hotel-Dieu Nunnery- by Maria Monk. This is a fictitious libel, but its seriousness is undermined by the fantastic story told. A warren of secret passages and other Gothic trappings honeycomb the convent. The nuns are there basically to serve as a harem for Roman Catholic priests. Bizarre religious justifications are urged on the sisters for this practise. Any children they beget are first baptised, then slaughtered, and buried in a secret cemetery in the convent. This lurid tale is better told than Reed's; Monk, or her amanuenses, were better writers than Reed's.

Monk's tale, of course, was a deliberate hoax, made to capitalise on the fame and market for anti-Catholic horror stories. Since Reed's book became a best-seller, an even more extravagant story had every good prospect of making money. Unfortunately, not for Maria Monk, who made little from her tale. She had apparently suffered a brain injury in her childhood that left her unable to distinguish fact from fantasy, and as such was a perfect and convincing patsy for her collaborators in creating this tale. She also died young in distressing circumstances.

Roman Catholics were an exotic species in early 19th century America. They were the subject of more or less traditional hostility from Protestant Americans. The secrecy of the cloister, and the exotic rituals and language of the Roman Church, made the Gothic literary style a good fit to write anti-Catholic fictions. Maria Monk's book is in fact largely in the tradition of -The Monk-, Matthew Lewis's lurid fictional tale of a priest who made a bargain with the Devil for carnal pleasure.

At this distance, when the right of Roman Catholics to practice their faith stands on a firmer foundation than it did in the early 19th century, those who take pleasure in lurid Gothic tales may also take pleasure in these as well. They are not great literature. They are, however, historically significant. And if you can put aside indignation --- excited either by the tales they tell, or the fact that they were ever published --- they are simultaneously sad, exciting, and ironically amusing, just like the best Gothic fiction.

The editor's introduction, unfortunately, seems to advance airy academic notions that are unlikely, but all too familiar. The hypothesis is ventured that the destroyed convent was a threat to Bostonians and their "patriarchy" because it represented a community of sexually independent and educated women. Toni Morrison is invoked to support this notion. Reading her introduction, you could almost forget that she's talking about nuns bound by oaths of obedience to a male hierarchy. Rebecca Reed's indignant descriptions of debasing penances seem more informed by a spirit of liberation than the introduction.