Malvina by Sophie Cottin (review)

Sophie Cottin’s sentimental novel Malvina, first published in French in 1801, was an attempt “to atone for the protofeminist overtones” (xi) of her previous Claire d’Albe (1799), according to Marijn Kaplan, editor of this new critical edition of Elizabeth Gunning’s 1803 English translation. Set in Scotland, it is the story of Malvina de Sorcy, a beautiful young widow who promises to care for the daughter of her dear friend Clara after the latter’s untimely death, but who neglects this promise when she falls for the irresistible rake, Sir Edmond Burton, whom she meets at his aunt’s remote castle in the north. Throughout her edition, Kaplan points out Gunning’s revisions to Cottin’s text, including minor adjustments and mistranslations as well as changes that restore feminist themes (women’s education, women’s literary talents) and minimize erotic aspects.

Not only sentimental, Malvina is also both Gothic and romantic. Cottin writes (in Gunning’s words) of Mrs. Burton’s castle that its “Gothic grandeur was increased by the lofty mountains covered with snow, which towered above it,” and she calls “its situation wildly sublime” (6). The specter of death hangs over all. Arriving at the castle, Malvina “listened to the distant rushing of the torrent, and imagined she could distinguish the groans of her friend,” and “her sickly imagination was filled with the phantoms which had once been” (6). Characters’ inner states are often reflected in the natural world around them. Strolling with Sir Edmond one evening, Malvina intuits their coming misfortunes. “As they were proceeding,” Cottin writes, “she could not help shuddering, as she perceived some withered branches quivering in the air, and suddenly falling to the ground near them. A similarity between them and herself instantly pressed upon her heart, and made her tremble for her happiness” (216).

Cottin’s characters are generally univalent, either unfailingly compassionate (Malvina, Mrs. St. Clare) or unrepentantly selfish (Mrs. Burton, Miss Melmor). Sir Edmond stands as the significant exception. He is admirable in most ways, especially in his generosity to the poor, which first attracts Malvina’s attention. He is also, however, a sexual predator, caring little for women he leaves with unfulfilled promises of marriage (Miss Melmor) or even carrying his child (Louisa, the sister of Mrs. St. Clare). A rival remarks that “there resides in him such an inordinate passion for women [. . .] that though he is just and true to all the world, he seduces and deceives them without remorse” (35). Readers may or may not find these complexities of character believable.

The notion of liberty, in wide circulation in this period, is central to the novel. The term itself appears frequently, as do related terms like freedom, independence, and, by contrast, despotism, constraint, chains, yoke, prison. Although she may be trying to make up for the more explicit feminism of her earlier work, Cottin cannot help but return to the question of a woman’s right to self-determination. When widowed, Malvina experiences a “liberty” that is opposed to the “tyranny” (9) of a loveless marriage and, later, to her “tyrannic passion” (117) for Sir Edmond. Readers know not to trust Sir Edmond because he portrays his love for Malvina as a desire for conquest: “I shall follow you everywhere, claim you everywhere” (120), he tells her when she initially rejects him. Religious themes bear witness to Cottin’s Protestantism, although Malvina herself is Catholic. From the beginning, Malvina feels deeply “the existence of a God and a Saviour” (8), and, in her last moments, she exclaims, “All-powerful God!” (265). Biblical references appear alongside literary ones, and Cottin critiques Mrs. Burton by observing that “bigoted in her own faith, [she] admitted no Protestants to her house” (177). The superiority of friendship to passionate love, however, is the novel’s main theme. Malvina’s friendship with the departed Clara and with the similarly named Mrs. St. Clare are her chief sources of joy, and it is her temporary negligence of her...