Review of The Rival Mothers by Madame de Genlis
author: Elizabeth Moody
source date: October 1801

Elizabeth Moody Art. XIII. The Rival Mothers, or Calumny. Translated from the French of Madame de Genlis. 4 Vols. 12mo. 18s. sewed. Longman and Co. 1801. [This review article appeared in The Monthly Review , second series, volume 36, October 1801, pages 187-188. Benjamin Nangle identifies Elizabeth Moody as the author of this review from an editor's marked copy of The Monthly Review . See Nangle, The Montly Review, Second Series, 1790-1815: Indexes of Contributors and Articles , Clarendon Press, 1955. This edition of the article is produced by Emma Wiley and Mary A. Waters.]

T he literary reputation of Madame de Genlis is so well established, that the public are readily disposed to anticipate pleasure from every new production of her cultivated mind; and we have satisfaction in acknowledging, after having perused the volumes before us, that disappointment has not superseded expectation. We regret that this ingenious lady should have had reason for complaining of the insidious enemy Calumny: but, if she has been enabled to support its injustice with the fortitude inspired by conscious innocence, (such as she de- scribes to be the recompense of the injured Pauline,) she will not (as a moralist) regret the experience, whatever painful sensations it may have occasioned.

The Rival Mothers are two ladies who enter the lists of competition on the subject of maternal affection. If they do not stand on fair and equal ground respecting pretension, since they cannot both be the mother, they meet at least on the point of conduct. Each makes an important sacrifice to the little idol Léocadie:— the sacrifice of reputation is offered by one to the preservation of the infant; and that of parental intercourse and endearment is endured by the other, for the maintenance of her reputation. Yet, as the latter incessantly demonstrates, by the frequent testimonials of unremitting superintendence, that her heart never relaxes on the affectionate interests of maternal love and duty, Solomon himself might have been puzzled to decide which was the real parent; while the extravagant personal fondness of Pauline might have contributed to impose on even his sagacity.

The narrative of the novel is pleasing and interesting. The characters, indeed, are delineated à la française; and exceptions consequently arise against a few occasional tints of unnatural colouring; which, by overstepping the modesty of nature, gives too much the semblance of romance to the work, and is not adapted to that species of writing in which, the author tells us, the story is meant as a vehicle to convey the principles of sound and pure morality. We also differ from Madame de Genlis on the subject of reputation. Her heroine, Pauline, stands chargeable with gross inconsistencies on this head. She is represented as tremblingly alive to general sensibility on the subject of virtue, yet she is apparently indifferent to its appropriate estimation in the opinion of others; and she throws away her good name, "as 'twere a careless trifle."—She is attacked by the grossest calumny:—accused of adultery, hypocrisy, and falsehood;— yet she writes to her friend—''Do not bewail the loss of my reputation; it is of all the illusions of life, that which I regret the least and despise the most.' Of what value, then, is the jewel reputation; if such apathy, is to be attached to it?—By this indifference to character, Madame de Genlis loses sight of her professedly supreme object, the encouragement and improvement of morals; since the desire of being esteemed by the world, if it ought not to be the primum mobile of our actions, must at least be admitted as a stimulating principle, without which the current of virtue would be liable to stagnate. Though often a charming human creature, this lady is but too apt to degenerate into a French court lady; one moment, we admire her; the next, we despise the formal painted wooden doll. We turn with disgust from the allegoric garden, the romantic machinery, and the theatrical personifications; and we would also gladly erase the many unnatural events that crowd her novel: yet let us remember that French and English Nature differs, and that the author is acquainted only with the former;— whom we consider as a degenerate goddess.

The style of these letters is sprightly and animated, bidding defiance to the foul fiend Ennui.—The translator of a work of this kind finds it almost impossible to transfuse into another language that spirit and vivacity, with that beautiful and elegant tour de phrase, which so peculiarly characterize the French writers of eminence; and mere fidelity produces flatness and insipidity. In many passages, however, the present translator is successful in catching a ray of the author’s illuminated pencil; and the version of the ingenious lines with the double sens, found in the oratory, is extremely well executed.