COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 5 never in the convent and died penniless in a poorhouse, never profiting from her narrative. “Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk” sold 300,000 copies before 1860 and continued being reprinted into the 20th century. Monk claimed that during her time as a nun at Montreal’s HotelDieu, she’d been forced to participate in horrific acts including murdering a fellow nun who refused priests’ immoral demands. Capitalizing on anti-Catholic sentiment, New York editors promoted Monk’s allegations as “true” revelations about convent life. When the pregnant Monk took refuge in the Bellevue Almshouse in 1835, she had only a scandalous story. But anti-Catholic and antiimmigrant men saw opportunity to convince Americans of Catholicism’s threat—and make money. These men and Monk produced a book that would excite a scandal-hungry public, despite holes in her story. “She tells this story of the nunnery soon after coming to this country, but this group of men-on-the-make come in, and they take over the process. Critics would call her a thief, but they took her story, took the copyright, and took the profits,” says Najar, professor of history and women, gender, and sexuality studies. “They sometimes even took control of her. It was very clear this book was going to make money in the months before it was published. And so, Monk became a pawn as different factions tried to get control of the project.” The 1830s marked the rise of Jacksonian democracy, when voting rights expanded to include poor, working-class men, including Catholics. For some Protestant Americans, this represented terrifying loss of control. “It’s no longer an expectation that the ‘right people’ were guiding the government,” Najar said. “Now, you have to trust the man you don’t know, and he might be poor, and he might be a laborer, and he might be Catholic.” Anti-Catholic activists made this fear personal—framing the Pope’s supposed threat through a vulnerable woman’s story. “The idea of a woman captive in a convent becomes a stand-in for the threat to democracy,” Najar notes. Najar found no evidence Monk was ever in a convent—“she just didn’t know enough about convents”— but acknowledges the historical reality of clergy sexual abuse. After writing a college paper on the topic, Najar moved on to other work, only to return years later. “I just got so interested in her and in the ethics—the ethics of what happened around her, and the ethics of my responsibility as a historian returning to this story.” That ethical responsibility extends to recovering the humanity of a woman the internet still treats as either a villain or a curiosity. After years of unraveling this sensational and misunderstood story, Najar admits she feels “quite close” to this project. “This book will be Monk’s story. That’s hard to find on the internet if you look at it.” The tale that began with a pregnant 19-year-old arriving from Montreal and ended with her dying penniless in a poorhouse still has more to reveal—about who profits from women’s celebrity and scandal, and who pays the price. Originally published in January 1836, “Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk” was a sensational tale spurred by anti-Catholic sentiment (above). Engraving of a priest, circa 1890 (below). ALAMY STOCK PHOTO
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