Love and plutocracy
Can a maid’s love tame the capitalist spirit of Andrew Carnegie?
In the 250-plus years of Pittsburgh’s history, few figures loom larger than steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. The legacy in Pittsburgh of one of the richest men in American history is a decidedly mixed bag: His efforts to democratize art and education for the masses via libraries and museums rest uneasily alongside his role in low wages and poor conditions for his employees.
The paradoxical nature of Carnegie’s beliefs — publicly espousing socialist ideals while privately pursuing wealth with underhanded business deals and ruthless cost-cutting — form the backbone of “Carnegie’s Maid,” the new novel by local author Heather Benedict Terrell, aka Marie Benedict. Ms. Benedict’s imagining of a forbidden romance between the young magnate and his mother’s new maid provides a charmingly benign cover for a well-researched and thoughtful exploration of poverty and the immigrant experience in a rapidly growing Pittsburgh in the late 19th century.
The year is 1863, and 19year-old Clara Kelley has arrived in America by boat after leaving her destitute family behind in rural Ireland. When Clara is mistaken for a fellow passenger who did not survive the journey, she fortuitously finds herself in Pittsburgh, where she is placed as the new lady’s maid to Margaret Carnegie, the mother of 28-year-old Andrew and his younger brother.
To Clara, the Carnegies represent a promise of class mobility that felt impossible in Ireland. Less than 20 years after emigrating from their native Scotland, Margaret and her sons are a reallife rags-to-riches story, thanks to Andrew’s hard work and shrewd investing. Clara, feeling the immense pressure of providing for her family, longs to learn how she can apply Carnegie’s path to success to her own life.
Of course, “Carnegie’s Maid” is a romance, so when Clara crosses paths with her mistress’s successful and gregarious older son, they are immediately drawn to each other. As their romance slowly blossoms, Clara eagerly teaches herself about her paramour’s business interests and becomes his trusted adviser.
As a servant, however, Clara uncomfortably straddles two worlds: the impossibly grand life of the Carnegies, and the deplorable conditions of her Pittsburghbased cousins, who live in a one-room house across the Allegheny without basic necessities like sanitation, a result of the low wages of mill workers at the time. Clara’s true identity must remain a secret, because revealing her deception to Mrs. Carnegie would result in her dismissal — and financial disaster for her family — yet her anger at the inequality she experiences requires honesty with her beloved Andrew. As their relationship intensifies, Clara must decide what her future holds and whether Andrew can be a part of it.
Ms. Benedict’s passion for her subject material is indisputable, and it is what elevates “Carnegie’s Maid” from a shallow romance to a vivid picture of a city struggling with its rapid industrialization, growing immigrant population, and intensifying wealth inequality. The tender relationship between Andrew and Clara, however unlikely it may have been in reality, is sweetly rendered, and Clara is a plucky and admirable heroine.
Most impressive, however, is Ms. Benedict’s treatment of Andrew Carnegie himself: As a love interest, he is kind and affectionate, yet the author does not ignore the contradictions inherent in how he chose to live his life in reality. Clara is disturbed by some of his more duplicitous business practices, and their disagreements over the ethical implications give satisfying depth to the characters.
“Carnegie’s Maid” brings to life a particular moment in the ascendancy of Andrew Carnegie while enriching that moment with a sympathetic understanding of what it meant to be an immigrant living in poverty at that time. This would be an accomplishment for any book, but for one that cleverly disguises itself as a historical romance, it’s an absolute treasure. The Carnegie legacy may be debatable, but Ms. Benedict’s talent for bringing history to life is not.