3.3.1 Maternal model of political economy
In the novel, Maria Edgeworth engages with the contemporary politi-cal-economic theory that has provided a pertinent framework to examine the colonial governance in Ireland.8 Julie Costello maintains that Edgeworth’s focus on the “physical dynamics of mothering” helps her to confront the dif-ficulties in reconciling maternal sensibility with sound economic practice (174). Although Ellinor O’Donoghoe is a wet nurse for the gentry, the social and economic problems related to wet nursing for foundlings needs to be in-cluded in the discussion in order to better gauge Edgeworth’s insights. Meas-ured against the political-economic paradigm, wet nursing for foundlings is a product of outmoded benevolence and muddled calculation. Glenthorn’s
8 For a nuanced and thorough discussion of Edgeworth’s thoughts on political economy, see Galla-gher 257-327.
Scottish agent, M’Leod, offers an apt analogy not only for the fostering sys-tem but for governance in general:
Pity for one class of beings sometimes makes us cruel to others. I am told that there are some Indian Brahmins so very compassionate, that they hire beggars to let fleas feed upon them: I doubt whether it might not be better to let the fleas starve. (E 189-90)
This crude figure, rooted in Smithian-Malthusian model, is an example of M’Leod’s “cold reasoning” to educate Glenthorn in the new science of gov-ernance. M’Leod uses this figure to explain Glenthorn’s folly of “reliev[ing]
[him]self from the uneasy feeling of pity, by indiscriminate donations to ob-jects apparently the most miserable” (E 189). Bonnie Blackwell elucidates how this analogy demonstrates the folly of institutionalized charity, which includes employing wet nurses for foundlings, for it encourages population growth and thus perpetuates rural poverty (373). For the Smithian agent, compassion for the poor is so unnecessary and counter-productive that it lends itself to a comparison with an outlandish and misplaced sympathy of the Indian Brahmins for the fleas. The economy based on skewed compassion which asks beggars to remain squalid to keep fleas alive does nothing but deepening beggars’ poverty. It is against this old regime that M’Leod pro-poses schemes based on profit, industry, and general applicability. As Julie Costello interprets succinctly, Brahmin’s philanthropy disguises his “dis-placed consumption” of the beggar, whose body is the only commodity that the beggar can sell, and who must be eaten so as to satisfy his own hunger temporarily. The same confusion between consuming and being consumed is equally true of the wet nurse (Costello 187). But the actual function of the wet nurse in patrician household questions the validity of any quasi-scientific economic model. M’Leod’s analogy problematizes the over-emphasis on supply. Bonnie Blackwell notices that the metaphorics of lactation is fre-quently referred to in the discourse of political economics because milk, ac-cording to Deanna Kreisel, is “the only product whose supply is completely determined by, and entirely dependent upon, demand,” and which is used to
“debunk the central article of faith of classical political economy” that “sup-ply created its own demand, and that therefore, a crisis of underconsumption was impossible” (qtd. in Blackwell 373). In other words, wet nursing brings in a new dimension to political-economical theory. By having an incredulous M’Leod, whose methodic approaches to estate management constantly irritate
Lord Glenthorn, Edgeworth conveys her own skepticism about the applica-tions of both classical and Smithian models of economy to human affairs.
Apart from her institutionalized function of charity which causes contro-versy, the wet nurse also embodies the contradictions of maternity in colonial Ireland: the wet nurse guarantees the healthy continuation of the Anglo-Irish class while curtailing the growth of local population since women in lactation are advised to refrain from sexual activity and the act of suckling itself is usu-ally contraceptive (Blackwell 377). Julie Costello further argues that the rela-tionship between the aristocratic mother, her child and the nurse constitutes a kind of self-contained economy of mutual benefits and rewards (180). With this triad, Costello explains how the Irish wet nurse challenges the assumptions of Thomas Malthus and Adam Smith who worry that the excessive productivity of the Irish women turns them into conspicuous consumers and therefore depletes the already scarce resources (175). In practice, just like the middle-class women author of manuals for home economics, the wet nurse, channels surplus into profit—in both financial and demographic terms (Costello 181). But Maria Edgeworth designs a twist to this “recuperative” reading of the wet nurse by literally conflating the nurse with the mother.
3.3.2 Reverted piggery
Lord Glenthorn has to prepare himself for a full acceptance of his Irish origins. Having moved back to Ireland, he starts to reconnect with his past.
When Ellinor comes to England, Lord Glenthorn relives, as it were, a child-hood trauma. Her passionate greeting causes him to fall from the horse. In a coma he overhears servants’ cold-hearted arrangement of his affairs, a knowledge which jolts him from inertia. In other words, Ellinor triggers his awakening. Later on, Ellinor reveals that the scar on his foster brother left from the fall in his infancy serves as the mark of his true identity. Lord Glen-thorn’s own fall allows him to experience that near-death condition, which serves as a prelude to a new identity. In the process, Ellinor functions as a catalyst for his transformation, the preliminary part of which develops via her new farm house. The cottage is designed by Glenthorn in the style of elegant English cottage to replace her old one which shocks him at his first visit (E 186). That experience amounts to an uncanny re-visit to his earliest dwelling place. And ironically, the squalid old cottage is where the true heir of Earl of Glenthorn, his foster brother, gets proper nourishment and survives. Further-more, the tortuous process of building the house humorously conforms to the
English stereotype of the idle and unruly Irish people. While visiting the new cottage, fondly called Ellinor’s “installation” (E 189), Glenthorn is appalled to see how it has reverted back to a piggery. Ellinor is found singing while weaving at her wheel:
There was a lady lov’d by a swine:
Honey, says she,
I’ll give ye a silver trough.
Hunk! Says he. (E 199)
Glenthorn might presume that he is the fine lady who has loved the swinish Ellinor and has given her a “silver trough,” which fails to alter her piggish nature. Nevertheless, his aversion and frustration at the transformed cottage are somehow dispelled by her singing. Eventually he learns to take her on her own terms. Furthermore, Glenthorn’s identification with the lady turns out to be ironically false. In the note, Marilyn Butler tells us this song is listed in Edgeworth’s notebook as “song for nurse’ (E 356, n. 35). Therefore, this song may uncannily trigger Glenthorn’s childhood memory which has been submerged beneath his English finery. Glenthorn in fact was once the pig that is being fondly cuddled by the nurse. Nevertheless, the association of pigs with nurslings complicates this seemingly innocent vignette. Bonnie Blackwell points out that in nursery stories babies were commonly lost due to two accidents, crawling or falling into danger or being attacked by animals, especially pigs. Blackwell further explains how the fear of the pig lies at the centre of Stephen Daedalus’s rage as “the old sow [Ireland] that eats her farrow” (qtd. in Blackwell 387-88). Bonnie Blackwell therefore argues that the nurse/mother as sow suckling her piglets which would soon be devoured by her is a phantasm of “grotesque nationalized maternity” (388). The sce-nario of the piggery spells out the subconscious recognition of his origins and the fear of being once more engulfed back into them. But the fear and disgust seem to be dismissed by the nurse’s singing. Rather than joining the rage against so-called “grotesque nationalized maternity,” Edgeworth allows the English cottage happily relapse back to an Irish piggery in order to counter the phantasmagoric fear of miscegenation and metamorphoses expressed by Spenser and Davies. Ellinor indeed possesses qualities of the archetype, “shan van vocht” (poor old woman), a stock nationalist figure whom Stephen Tifft calls a “nostalgic trope for a victimized Ireland as the maternal object of na-tionalist devotion” (qtd. in Blackwell 377). But Edgeworth aims more than
the recuperation of the Irish culture through the wet nurse. Lord Glenthorn’s acceptance of Ellinor and her piggery prepares him for a fuller recognition of his own origin, which is more than a nostalgic looking backward, but moving ahead to build a modern Ireland.
3.3.3 The Modern Ireland, a national allegory
Lord Glenthorn learns about his true identity at the time of the Irish up-rising (1798),9 as political and personal crises intertwine. Ellinor reports that some of the plotters praise Glenthorn’s largess whereas others belittle him for being made of “milk and water” (E 263). This note of dismissal by the Irish locals spells out the risks involved in wet nursing, amounting to the flip side of Spenser’s fear of diluted English character. Judged from the Irish perspec-tive, Glenthorn is “neither beef nor vael” (E 263) and his mixed identity and dilly-dally inertia are rooted in his infant diet, “milk and water.” Reported by his wet nurse, this comment is doubly ironic. She alone holds the secret to his Irish pedigree. Bonnie Blackwell judiciously points out that Glenthorn’s in-sufficiencies as a ruler refers back to an “unsatisfactorily resolved” scene of nursing (358). What Blackwell does not notice is how this trauma impacts on three parties: Glenthorn, the Irish community and the nurse/mother. It’s diffi-cult even for the native plotters to resolve their split allegiance, for Glenthorn has been benevolent but he is a class (and race) enemy. Their slur, drawn from the food analogy, suggests a primitive model of identity. Glenthorn is philan-thropic but his putative English blood dilutes the Irish milk and therefore he remains an outsider to the Irish community. The specter of contamination continues to haunt when it comes from Ellinor again, this time, blaming her own doing. When Glenthorn refuses to bail out her younger son Owen who is believed to have been detained with the conspirators, she proclaims “’Tis a judgment upon me . . . But you shall feel too, . . . Yes, your heart is harder than the marble: you want the natural touch, you do; for your mother has knelt at your feet, and you have denied her prayer” (E 271, my emphasis).
She then reveals that the true Lord Glenthorn is Christy the blacksmith who was placed in her care after a fatal fall from his original nurse. The true Lord Glenthorn grew so sick that Ellinor thought he would not have recovered.
Therefore, she exchanged her own robust son with the ill heir. But the sickly
9 For more detailed explanation of this rare reference of Irish rebellion in Edgeworth’s works, see Myers, “War,” 74-91.
heir survived in her household. Now Ellinor despairingly believes that God has meted out punishment for her own son refuses to save his true sibling.
Fortunately, Owen is discovered somewhere else, not among the detainees.
After honestly returning the title and estate to his foster brother, Christy O’Donoghoe (formerly known as Lord Glenthorn) embarks on a journey of self-discovery. The fear of contamination is resolved for Christy O’Donoghoe is a pure-bred Irish but he is to prove himself worthy of the estate by estab-lishing himself as a rising lawyer after the vigorous training in London and winning the hand of Lady Delamere who is the next heir in line to the estate.
His dramatic development from an indolent lord to a motivated professional also demonstrates Edgeworth’s belief in circumstance rather than genetics that exerts a greater power in shaping one’s character and fortune. This tale, from riches to rags and back to riches again, amounts to a national allegory for modern Ireland. In the end, the Irish subject, cleansed of his dilution and taint, can lawfully and morally claim his title and land. It is a utopian vision for the Irish nation. But this national allegory, triggered by the nurse, needs to be achieved through the endeavor of Glenthorn and through a full acknowl-edgement of the mother’s contribution.
3.3.4. Denouement, a fairy tale
Edgeworth’s blueprint for reconciliation contains its own critique. The revelation of the changeling episode, accounted to Lord Glenthron at the time of the Irish rebellion, presents the revolution of fates for the two foster broth-ers, Glenthorn and Christy. The changeling act, usually associated with fairy tale, suggests the possible abuse of power on the part of the nurse/mother. As Bonnie Blackwell explains, Lord Glenthorn “recovers” a lost woman whom he has “never managed to replace,” only to be told that she has “substituted”
him (361). The figure of Ellinor, both victim and victimizer, provides a sym-bol for the blended texture of the novel as a whole. After returning the title and estate to his foster brother, Glenthorn is subjected to a series of tests un-der the guidance of his “godfather,” Lord Y—until the latter finally pro-nounces, “Your trial is over” (E 319). This reference to fairy tale formula alerts us to the utopian nature of Edgeworth’s design. Besides, the way in which his real identity becomes public knowledge is presented in a self-reflexive manner, as gossips circulated among the ladies at Lord Y—’s place as happening only in novels (E 298). It is this constant referring to various modes of representation, including that of the novel, which disproves
any straightforward reading of Ennui. Clióna Ó. Gallchoir contends that Edgeworth presents political revolution in the form of a folktale (96-102), which begins with changeling at nurse and ends with the formation of Mr.
Delamere who will become Lord Glenthorn again. In fact, the veneer of fairy tale belies the self-aware wish-fulfillment of Edgeworth’s blueprint for Ire-land. It is also this self-reflexive denouement that structurally connects Ennui with Belinda.
4. Belinda (originally titled, Abroad and At Home)10
In Belinda, her first English society novel, though preferred to be called, a “moral tale,”11Edgeworth chronicles the reform of Lady Delacour following the framework of the Enlightenment medical case study, a framework that connects Ennui and Belinda in structural and thematic terms. Both Lord Glenthorn and Lady Delacour suffer from ennui with similar reluctance to get cured. But their causes are different: the former is removed from his mother and his true identity; the latter divests herself of maternal duties. They are both cut adrift from the source that best anchors their identities. They are thus driven to narcissistic performance of their illness. Lady Delacour, the “spoiled actress” off stage (B 10), which is a living legacy from the Restoration drama, bears the complications of mothering on her body. The literal translation of her French name, “of the heart,” draws our attention to the gap between her flamboyant appearance and her discordant family life, a gap that is external-ized in her injured breast. This is the name she carries through marriage that eventually facilitates her recognition of her pivotal role in the society, as the
“heart” of sentimental network. Furthermore, as in Ennui, Edgeworth in Belinda draws proponents from other genres, styles, and literary traditions, etc. In the end, we have a magic formula of moral story blending fantasy such as, fairy tale, folklore (ranging from European, Middle-East, and West Indies), and charged with keen psychological representation that enhances our ex-amination of issues related to romance, education, political economy, and revolution. With Belinda, Maria Edgeworth explores the effects of dictum on maternal breast feeding especially on the mother and proposes to go beyond
10 The original title contains a dichotomy that lends itself to a post-colonial reading of Belinda, which goes beyond the focus of this paper. For details, please see Greenfield 214-28.
11 Marilyn Butler notes that the three-volume Belinda is intended by Edgeworth as a moral tale, not didactic, but in the French style, “lightness, contrast, subversiveness and surprise” (Introduction 7).
the nurturing function of the breast by retaining independence while fully reconciling with one’s responsibilities.
The title of the novel belies the fact that Lady Delacour is the protago-nist. Belinda, the ingénue, is sent to Lady Delacour for a proper introduction to the high society. But conversely, Lady Delacour learns, with her assistance, to come to terms with her own role as mother and wife. Lady Delacour re-veals her breast injury in a spectacle tinged with Gothic terror and sentimental bonding, which foreshadows the tableau vivant in the denouement under her direction. With these two spectacles, and masquerades and role-plays inter-spersed in the novel, Edgeworth conducts a dialogue with Mary Wollstone-craft, who, in a scene of domestic bliss, advocates maternal breast feeding while emphasizing on equality and independence as the necessary condition for women to fulfill their duties. In the end, Edgeworth seems to allow Lady Delacour to “out-perform” the “rational” mother in Wollstonecraft’s treatise.