Review of The Reverend Psychopath
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Matt Graves
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- Latest Review: The Reverend Psychopath by Dr Andrew Rynne
Review of The Reverend Psychopath
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Reverend Psychopath" by Dr Andrew Rynne.]
The Reverend Psychopath: Suffer Little Children by Dr. Andrew Rynne and Veronica Judge is the aptly-titled tragic story of one Samuel Cotton, who with his wife Eliza, ran an orphanage in Caragh, Ireland, ostensibly doing the work of God. What really went on behind those closed doors was the opposite of anything holy, righteous, or humanitarian. That place’s inmates experienced the very depths of cruelty, neglect, and abuse.
The authors warn at the beginning that this will make for uncomfortable reading at times, and they are not kidding one bit. Even the most stoic reader might find himself having an emotional reaction by the time he turns the last page.
The breaking point to my own stoicism came far after I’d read of children at the orphanage being “spancelled” and “logged.” (Having a chain padlocked to the ankle and a heavy log tied to the other end of the chain.) What got to me most was the story of a kid named William Brown, whom the Reverend Cotton flogged on a regular basis. The boy’s crime? Wetting the bed. He was often made to sleep on a floor with only a cloth covering him. Finally he was given an ice bath a few days before Christmas and left to sleep on the floor in a building with broken window panes that let the cold air in. And this boy died at the ripe old age of . . . eight.
The book is dedicated to all the children who suffered (and some even died) at this Caragh Orphanage. Its value is in forcing people to slow down and look at the details of such an uncomfortable case. Some nuances are surprising. For instance, there was an Irish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children when all this was going on in the late 1800’s. And even by the standards of those days, which many modern readers would assume to be barbaric, most people still knew the difference between discipline and abuse. And they were appalled by the outright abuse that was practiced at this orphanage.
Furthermore, the Reverend Cotton was not universally supported by the clergy or other devoutly religious folk. Early members of his church knew that he was bad news, and many stopped attending. And it was actually a fellow clergyman, Reverend John Watson, who got some people together to make a surprise visit to the orphanage, to bring the conditions to the attention of the authorities, and to take Reverend Cotton to court, so that he could face some semblance of justice.
It is easy to say, from an armchair, that the people of Cotton’s time should have done something about his wrongs sooner, but then, look how little was done this past year to counteract the (demonstrably false) rumor that Haitian immigrants were eating people’s pets in the town of Springfield, Ohio. A lot of people still believe that tripe. And a lot of people in the late 1800’s believed the pious reverend and his wife when they uttered reassurances that the children in their Caragh Orphanage were all doing well. I find it interesting how the song remains basically the same, when it comes to a man’s ability to hide behind a good-guy badge.
Not enough people stood up to the Reverend Cotton, and not soon enough. Even though he was eventually made to face some legal consequences for his actions, he lived to the ripe old age of 77 and died at his home. His wife lived to be 91. Meanwhile, some of the children who were under his “care” did not even live to see the age of 12. The authors of this book were not even able to find the names of all the children who died at the orphanage. Some of them were buried in the Caragh Churchyard before being exhumed in 1976 and reinterred in Millicent Churchyard.
As much as I respect the intent of this book, I do have to criticize some of its style. The main thing is that its editing appears to have been rushed. There are numerous errors in basic grammar, punctuation, and spelling. Another flaw is that it comes across as “preachy” from the beginning. I think it would have been more effective if the authors had carefully laid out their case against Samuel Cotton, sticking to mainly the facts, and let readers draw their own conclusions in the early chapters. As Cotton’s own lawyer said in court, some of the charges against the man were revolting to people of all religions. The authors did not have to try to beat into the readers’ heads the concept that Samuel Cotton was a despicable, vile man. This book would have been more effective if they had saved their blatant condemnation for the last chapter or two, when a reader would naturally be seeking the authors’ perspective in summarizing such horrors.
It might have also helped if they had offered some sort of solution as to how people could learn from this case and prevent similar things from happening in the future. Unfortunately, they diagnose Samuel Cotton with Antisocial Personality Disorder and basically offer about as much hope of curing such a person as for curing a rabid animal. Grim as that sounds, I found myself having similar feelings while reading. Even while idealistically I felt, “This must never happen again.”
Because this man hid behind the Christian religion, one can’t help but recall the words of Christ regarding the value of children, and his strong condemnation of those who mistreat them. After all, the subtitle of this book is Suffer Little Children. It is not my place to say whether there is a special place in hell for people like the Reverend “Psychopath” Cotton. Who can tell what heavens, hells, purgatories, limbos, or karmas may await any of us after death? What I do feel justified in saying is that this preacher-man and his wife made the lives of children living in the real world a living hell.
As an offbeat attempt at an antidote to this somber case study, I revisited the classic film Night of the Hunter, about a crooked preacher-man who meant harm to some children because they had some money he wanted. Just as memorable a character as that corrupt minister is an honest lady who is sincere in her Christian faith and cares for orphan children out of the goodness of her heart. At the end of the film, she says, “It’s a hard world for little things . . . Lord save little children . . . they abide, and they endure.” I cannot improve upon that lady’s words except to admit that when they can’t abide and endure anymore, I suppose they just do the best they can.
This book truly was heart-wrenching, and despite its flaws, I award it three out of five stars because of its strong content. It really has something to say.
The world has come a long way since the late 1800’s. But the children of the world, just as all vulnerable groups of people, deserve protection from those of us who care. Soon after I finished reading this book, I watched some children in my family go through a bout with a nasty virus, hacking their heads off and running fever when they’d have rather been celebrating Christmas with more gusto. (For anyone curious, yes, I ran fever and coughed my own head off right along with them for a few days.) They got all the medicine, physical warmth, and human warmth and love they needed. And thank whatever gods may be for that.
Seeing this made my reflections on the book’s contents a lot more sobering. When possible, the authors give the children who suffered (or died) the dignity of being acknowledged by their first and last names. Hearing of child neglect or abuse in the abstract makes it sometimes too easy to shrug off, with a resigned attitude of, “It sure can be a sorry world.” After reading these true stories, no one can shrug off what happened. The ugly reality must be faced.
And part of that reality is that no swarms of locusts descended on this “Reverend Psychopath.” No millstone was hung around his neck, and he was not drowned in the sea. Compared to his victims, he lived and died rather comfortably. Perhaps it is some small consolation that the ledger of his life, that can be read now, is the strongest damnation of what he stood for.
Books like this need to be written every once in a while, uncomfortable as they make us. So that we can better do our duty toward the children and other innocents of the world. And so that we can let them remind us of life’s inherent value. It is not something I can fully explain in strictly logical terms, but children do have a way of reminding us why life should be appreciated.
May they abide.
May they endure.
Better yet, when happier circumstances allow, may they be treasured.
******
The Reverend Psychopath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
The Reverend Psychopath: Suffer Little Children by Dr. Andrew Rynne and Veronica Judge is the aptly-titled tragic story of one Samuel Cotton, who with his wife Eliza, ran an orphanage in Caragh, Ireland, ostensibly doing the work of God. What really went on behind those closed doors was the opposite of anything holy, righteous, or humanitarian. That place’s inmates experienced the very depths of cruelty, neglect, and abuse.
The authors warn at the beginning that this will make for uncomfortable reading at times, and they are not kidding one bit. Even the most stoic reader might find himself having an emotional reaction by the time he turns the last page.
The breaking point to my own stoicism came far after I’d read of children at the orphanage being “spancelled” and “logged.” (Having a chain padlocked to the ankle and a heavy log tied to the other end of the chain.) What got to me most was the story of a kid named William Brown, whom the Reverend Cotton flogged on a regular basis. The boy’s crime? Wetting the bed. He was often made to sleep on a floor with only a cloth covering him. Finally he was given an ice bath a few days before Christmas and left to sleep on the floor in a building with broken window panes that let the cold air in. And this boy died at the ripe old age of . . . eight.
The book is dedicated to all the children who suffered (and some even died) at this Caragh Orphanage. Its value is in forcing people to slow down and look at the details of such an uncomfortable case. Some nuances are surprising. For instance, there was an Irish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children when all this was going on in the late 1800’s. And even by the standards of those days, which many modern readers would assume to be barbaric, most people still knew the difference between discipline and abuse. And they were appalled by the outright abuse that was practiced at this orphanage.
Furthermore, the Reverend Cotton was not universally supported by the clergy or other devoutly religious folk. Early members of his church knew that he was bad news, and many stopped attending. And it was actually a fellow clergyman, Reverend John Watson, who got some people together to make a surprise visit to the orphanage, to bring the conditions to the attention of the authorities, and to take Reverend Cotton to court, so that he could face some semblance of justice.
It is easy to say, from an armchair, that the people of Cotton’s time should have done something about his wrongs sooner, but then, look how little was done this past year to counteract the (demonstrably false) rumor that Haitian immigrants were eating people’s pets in the town of Springfield, Ohio. A lot of people still believe that tripe. And a lot of people in the late 1800’s believed the pious reverend and his wife when they uttered reassurances that the children in their Caragh Orphanage were all doing well. I find it interesting how the song remains basically the same, when it comes to a man’s ability to hide behind a good-guy badge.
Not enough people stood up to the Reverend Cotton, and not soon enough. Even though he was eventually made to face some legal consequences for his actions, he lived to the ripe old age of 77 and died at his home. His wife lived to be 91. Meanwhile, some of the children who were under his “care” did not even live to see the age of 12. The authors of this book were not even able to find the names of all the children who died at the orphanage. Some of them were buried in the Caragh Churchyard before being exhumed in 1976 and reinterred in Millicent Churchyard.
As much as I respect the intent of this book, I do have to criticize some of its style. The main thing is that its editing appears to have been rushed. There are numerous errors in basic grammar, punctuation, and spelling. Another flaw is that it comes across as “preachy” from the beginning. I think it would have been more effective if the authors had carefully laid out their case against Samuel Cotton, sticking to mainly the facts, and let readers draw their own conclusions in the early chapters. As Cotton’s own lawyer said in court, some of the charges against the man were revolting to people of all religions. The authors did not have to try to beat into the readers’ heads the concept that Samuel Cotton was a despicable, vile man. This book would have been more effective if they had saved their blatant condemnation for the last chapter or two, when a reader would naturally be seeking the authors’ perspective in summarizing such horrors.
It might have also helped if they had offered some sort of solution as to how people could learn from this case and prevent similar things from happening in the future. Unfortunately, they diagnose Samuel Cotton with Antisocial Personality Disorder and basically offer about as much hope of curing such a person as for curing a rabid animal. Grim as that sounds, I found myself having similar feelings while reading. Even while idealistically I felt, “This must never happen again.”
Because this man hid behind the Christian religion, one can’t help but recall the words of Christ regarding the value of children, and his strong condemnation of those who mistreat them. After all, the subtitle of this book is Suffer Little Children. It is not my place to say whether there is a special place in hell for people like the Reverend “Psychopath” Cotton. Who can tell what heavens, hells, purgatories, limbos, or karmas may await any of us after death? What I do feel justified in saying is that this preacher-man and his wife made the lives of children living in the real world a living hell.
As an offbeat attempt at an antidote to this somber case study, I revisited the classic film Night of the Hunter, about a crooked preacher-man who meant harm to some children because they had some money he wanted. Just as memorable a character as that corrupt minister is an honest lady who is sincere in her Christian faith and cares for orphan children out of the goodness of her heart. At the end of the film, she says, “It’s a hard world for little things . . . Lord save little children . . . they abide, and they endure.” I cannot improve upon that lady’s words except to admit that when they can’t abide and endure anymore, I suppose they just do the best they can.
This book truly was heart-wrenching, and despite its flaws, I award it three out of five stars because of its strong content. It really has something to say.
The world has come a long way since the late 1800’s. But the children of the world, just as all vulnerable groups of people, deserve protection from those of us who care. Soon after I finished reading this book, I watched some children in my family go through a bout with a nasty virus, hacking their heads off and running fever when they’d have rather been celebrating Christmas with more gusto. (For anyone curious, yes, I ran fever and coughed my own head off right along with them for a few days.) They got all the medicine, physical warmth, and human warmth and love they needed. And thank whatever gods may be for that.
Seeing this made my reflections on the book’s contents a lot more sobering. When possible, the authors give the children who suffered (or died) the dignity of being acknowledged by their first and last names. Hearing of child neglect or abuse in the abstract makes it sometimes too easy to shrug off, with a resigned attitude of, “It sure can be a sorry world.” After reading these true stories, no one can shrug off what happened. The ugly reality must be faced.
And part of that reality is that no swarms of locusts descended on this “Reverend Psychopath.” No millstone was hung around his neck, and he was not drowned in the sea. Compared to his victims, he lived and died rather comfortably. Perhaps it is some small consolation that the ledger of his life, that can be read now, is the strongest damnation of what he stood for.
Books like this need to be written every once in a while, uncomfortable as they make us. So that we can better do our duty toward the children and other innocents of the world. And so that we can let them remind us of life’s inherent value. It is not something I can fully explain in strictly logical terms, but children do have a way of reminding us why life should be appreciated.
May they abide.
May they endure.
Better yet, when happier circumstances allow, may they be treasured.
******
The Reverend Psychopath
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
Latest Review: The Reverend Psychopath by Dr Andrew Rynne
