| “Oh, these faintings, so often, and then again directly, will soon do her business, I warrant, poor honey!” said Mrs. O’Flarty; but “but hould, hould a bit, now she is coming to herself, and now she sighs…” -- the Irish landlady in Black Rock House |
CMP#192 Black Rock House: a psychological thriller from 1808
by Mrs. E.G. Bayfield: Synopsis with Spoilers
Pop quiz: which events in Black Rock House cause our heroine, Gertrude Wallace, to faint dead away?
by Mrs. E.G. Bayfield: Synopsis with Spoilers
Pop quiz: which events in Black Rock House cause our heroine, Gertrude Wallace, to faint dead away?
- When the man she loves pressures her to elope with him.
- When her husband leaves the ballroom with a beautiful woman, leaving her behind, seven months' pregnant.
- When she realizes that her husband is having an affair.
- When her husband threatens to blacken her name so he can divorce her.
- When she hears her husband has killed a man in a duel.
- When she’s reunited with her father who had cast her off.
The purpose of the tale is to warn girls against impulsively eloping against their parent’s commands. This novel is firmly didactic and explicitly Christian in its message. (The author referenced the outstanding popularity of Hannah More’s Coelebs in Search of a Wife to assert that religion is not “out of place when found in a novel”).
Just as with Charlotte Temple, the heroine agrees to meet her handsome, charming, ardent, lover, Lionel Audley, and tell him she won’t elope with him, then she faints and he scoops her away. I wonder if this is intended to absolve the heroine at least in part for her actions. If she knowingly steps into a carriage with a man to whom she is not married and travels to Scotland, perhaps the readers of the day would abandon all sympathy for her. (We recall that Lydia was laughing in this same situation in Pride and Prejudice, and wasn't at all dismayed when they didn't go to Gretna Green).
Just as with Charlotte Temple, the heroine agrees to meet her handsome, charming, ardent, lover, Lionel Audley, and tell him she won’t elope with him, then she faints and he scoops her away. I wonder if this is intended to absolve the heroine at least in part for her actions. If she knowingly steps into a carriage with a man to whom she is not married and travels to Scotland, perhaps the readers of the day would abandon all sympathy for her. (We recall that Lydia was laughing in this same situation in Pride and Prejudice, and wasn't at all dismayed when they didn't go to Gretna Green).
 | “All the combined emotions of her heart contributed to overwhelm her at this eventful moment; when she heard his expressions of eager expectation, when she saw the chaise which was designed to bear her away, she experienced an instantaneous stagnation of feeling, and fainted in the arms of Audley!” On the Road to Gretna Green, Heywood Hardy |
Mrs. Falconbridge sets her sights on the baronet. Bing AI image. However, Black Rock House is more sophisticated in plot than Charlotte Temple. Our heroine Gertrude, only 17, assumes she and her adored Lionel will have a happy ever after. He assures her that their respective parents will forgive them--but they don't. Both are disowned and cut off financially.
After they've settled down in officer's quarters in Manchester, Lionel laughs as he reveals why Mrs. Falconbridge, the local merry widow, connived to help lure Gertrude away for the elopement. Gertrude was just a pawn in her game. The widow had her eye on Sir Russell, the local eligible baronet who was quietly in love with Gertrude and she wanted to clear her rival off.
“There was something very mortifying in the reflection, especially as Gertrude had hitherto plumed herself on possessing some penetration —'Never more must I pretend to any,’ thought she; ‘and yet, so fascinating, so specious was Mrs. Falconbridge, who but would have believed her amiable as she appeared?’”
It turns out that Lionel was also a deluded pawn—later, Gertrude learns from Mrs. Falconbridge herself that she had a double motive. The widow knew Lionel’s proud father would disinherit him for marrying a nobody. Mrs. F wants revenge--she wants the utter destruction of the Audley family, for reasons I’ll save.
Gertrude professes love and loyalty to Lionel although he soon tires of her, mocks her, ignores her, abandons her, cheats on her, ignores his little daughter because it’s not a boy, bankrupts himself through gaming, and flees after killing one of his creditors in a duel... And that’s not all. He meets and is infatuated with the beautiful heiress his father had picked out for him, whom he had rejected sight unseen in favor of Gertrude. Regretting his marriage to Gertrude, he wants a divorce, which means he must blacken her reputation. He wants her to be unfaithful to him so he'll have grounds for divorce. He leaves her with no money and turns her over to his superior officer, who wishes to make her his mistress.
I thought the author did a good job of drawing the net of doom around Gertrude and placing her in a horrendous situation—a situation which, despite the melodrama and the remarkable coincidences which abound in the tale, could have happened in real life. With barely any social safety net, and with no legal rights, a married woman really could find herself and her children abandoned and destitute in a strange town and be pressured to survive by selling herself.
After they've settled down in officer's quarters in Manchester, Lionel laughs as he reveals why Mrs. Falconbridge, the local merry widow, connived to help lure Gertrude away for the elopement. Gertrude was just a pawn in her game. The widow had her eye on Sir Russell, the local eligible baronet who was quietly in love with Gertrude and she wanted to clear her rival off.
“There was something very mortifying in the reflection, especially as Gertrude had hitherto plumed herself on possessing some penetration —'Never more must I pretend to any,’ thought she; ‘and yet, so fascinating, so specious was Mrs. Falconbridge, who but would have believed her amiable as she appeared?’”
It turns out that Lionel was also a deluded pawn—later, Gertrude learns from Mrs. Falconbridge herself that she had a double motive. The widow knew Lionel’s proud father would disinherit him for marrying a nobody. Mrs. F wants revenge--she wants the utter destruction of the Audley family, for reasons I’ll save.
Gertrude professes love and loyalty to Lionel although he soon tires of her, mocks her, ignores her, abandons her, cheats on her, ignores his little daughter because it’s not a boy, bankrupts himself through gaming, and flees after killing one of his creditors in a duel... And that’s not all. He meets and is infatuated with the beautiful heiress his father had picked out for him, whom he had rejected sight unseen in favor of Gertrude. Regretting his marriage to Gertrude, he wants a divorce, which means he must blacken her reputation. He wants her to be unfaithful to him so he'll have grounds for divorce. He leaves her with no money and turns her over to his superior officer, who wishes to make her his mistress.
I thought the author did a good job of drawing the net of doom around Gertrude and placing her in a horrendous situation—a situation which, despite the melodrama and the remarkable coincidences which abound in the tale, could have happened in real life. With barely any social safety net, and with no legal rights, a married woman really could find herself and her children abandoned and destitute in a strange town and be pressured to survive by selling herself.
box decorated with paper quilling Back in England
A kindly older army officer rescues Gertrude from this fate and gives her enough money to travel back to England. In this section, the author uses some “ripped from the headlines” current events like the Battle of Corunna in Spain and a massive flood which hit Bath and a large swath of Britain in January 1809.
There’s also a strange interlude where Gertrude, trudging through the snow in search of a cheap lodging, encounters a giant (that is, a man with gigantism) who has escaped his confinement. He is a “freak” in a travelling exhibition and he makes a passionate and eloquent speech about his horrible life. As Gertrude informs him to his face, God must have sent him to cross paths with her, so that she can be reminded that some people have it worse than she does. (Gee, glad I could help!) He lopes off through the snow like Frankenstein's monster and we don’t see him again.
Gertrude writes her father, begging him to take her baby under his roof, while she earns a living somehow or other. While waiting for his answer, she makes and sells boxes (probably filigree boxes?) while worrying about her husband, who is on the lam. “’Oh! That [Lionel] were but here, in this little room!’ cried Gertrude; ‘these hands would cheerfully, unceasingly pursue their office; and sweet would be the morsel which they earned, did they conduce to a husband’s maintenance, a husband’s comfort!’” And this is after all of the above...
After losing her trunks in a flood, Gertrude has only the clothes on her back and enough money to travel back to her home town.
A kindly older army officer rescues Gertrude from this fate and gives her enough money to travel back to England. In this section, the author uses some “ripped from the headlines” current events like the Battle of Corunna in Spain and a massive flood which hit Bath and a large swath of Britain in January 1809.
There’s also a strange interlude where Gertrude, trudging through the snow in search of a cheap lodging, encounters a giant (that is, a man with gigantism) who has escaped his confinement. He is a “freak” in a travelling exhibition and he makes a passionate and eloquent speech about his horrible life. As Gertrude informs him to his face, God must have sent him to cross paths with her, so that she can be reminded that some people have it worse than she does. (Gee, glad I could help!) He lopes off through the snow like Frankenstein's monster and we don’t see him again.
Gertrude writes her father, begging him to take her baby under his roof, while she earns a living somehow or other. While waiting for his answer, she makes and sells boxes (probably filigree boxes?) while worrying about her husband, who is on the lam. “’Oh! That [Lionel] were but here, in this little room!’ cried Gertrude; ‘these hands would cheerfully, unceasingly pursue their office; and sweet would be the morsel which they earned, did they conduce to a husband’s maintenance, a husband’s comfort!’” And this is after all of the above...
After losing her trunks in a flood, Gertrude has only the clothes on her back and enough money to travel back to her home town.
Reconciliation Small World!
The unintentionally hilarious denouement comes when all the major characters converge at the same moment at the same Inn, Black Rock House, where Lionel commits suicide in the courtyard—his father arrives, the avenging villainess (who is Sir John’s illegitimate daughter, resentful half-sister to Lionel) arrives to crow in triumph over the destruction of the family, then Gertrude’s father and stepsister arrive. At this moment of tragedy, Gertrude's little daughter, also named Gertrude, is a picture of innocence who melts all hearts.
Gertrude’s repentant father-in-law announces that little Gertrude Jr. will be the heiress to his estate but he leaves the baby to be raised by the Wallace family because “I have forcibly shown that neither by instruction or example am I fitted for the arduous task of education.” Seeing as his daughter is an avenging psychopath and his son was a cheating, whoring, gambling waste of space.
Gertrude and her daughter go home to her father’s estate. Gertrude dies of a decline, i.e, consumption, leaving her gentle stepsister Catherine to raise the little girl. Catherine eventually marries the eligible baronet, Sir Russell.
The unintentionally hilarious denouement comes when all the major characters converge at the same moment at the same Inn, Black Rock House, where Lionel commits suicide in the courtyard—his father arrives, the avenging villainess (who is Sir John’s illegitimate daughter, resentful half-sister to Lionel) arrives to crow in triumph over the destruction of the family, then Gertrude’s father and stepsister arrive. At this moment of tragedy, Gertrude's little daughter, also named Gertrude, is a picture of innocence who melts all hearts.
Gertrude’s repentant father-in-law announces that little Gertrude Jr. will be the heiress to his estate but he leaves the baby to be raised by the Wallace family because “I have forcibly shown that neither by instruction or example am I fitted for the arduous task of education.” Seeing as his daughter is an avenging psychopath and his son was a cheating, whoring, gambling waste of space.
Gertrude and her daughter go home to her father’s estate. Gertrude dies of a decline, i.e, consumption, leaving her gentle stepsister Catherine to raise the little girl. Catherine eventually marries the eligible baronet, Sir Russell.
Bing AI image Other Features
One of the army officers, Mr. Silvertop, is used for comic relief and gets a lengthy description. He is “effeminate.” I’ll save that for another post on depictions of homosexuals in novels of this era. Another comic character is the spinster/heiress who foolishly thinks that Audley’s friend Major Perceval is marrying her for love. She is a female pedant, and the comedy of her malapropisms outstays its welcome.
Sir Russell Powis, the baronet who holds a torch for Gertrude, is a single man in possession of a good fortune in want of a wife. We’re supposed to believe that he’s a dud socially because he is so timid and reserved. Seriously? He’d have husband-hunting mamas all over him and more dinner invites than he could accept. Gertrude is not rewarded with a happy marriage with him after her first husband kills himself. That wouldn’t send the right message to the young readers. Gertrude must die. The point is that after her first serious error in eloping, she behaved impeccably and she will go to heaven.
The villainess, Mrs. Falconbridge, would be a candidate for scholars looking for subversive pro-feminist messages because she is no helpless shrinking violet. She makes her own way in the world quite capably.
Crazy ladies on a cliff: I recently reviewed the novel What Has Been (1801). A contemporary critic slammed that novel for being derivative. He said, "The wild insanity of the lady at Teignmouth [who warned the heroine to beware the wiles of men] has numerous prototypes…" Well, here we are seven years later, and novelists were still using crazy ladies on a cliff as a foreshadowing device. Gertrude sees one right after her wedding at Gretna Green. The crazy lady tells Gertrude that she eloped twenty years ago: “Oh! Then—oh! Then, what day-dreams of delight went with me!... I left my tender father, and pursued my fated way to Scotland—with a villain!... And here I wander… placed as a beacon… to warn the trusting female to turn back ere yet too late—ere yet she tempts a father’s curse!”
One of the army officers, Mr. Silvertop, is used for comic relief and gets a lengthy description. He is “effeminate.” I’ll save that for another post on depictions of homosexuals in novels of this era. Another comic character is the spinster/heiress who foolishly thinks that Audley’s friend Major Perceval is marrying her for love. She is a female pedant, and the comedy of her malapropisms outstays its welcome.
Sir Russell Powis, the baronet who holds a torch for Gertrude, is a single man in possession of a good fortune in want of a wife. We’re supposed to believe that he’s a dud socially because he is so timid and reserved. Seriously? He’d have husband-hunting mamas all over him and more dinner invites than he could accept. Gertrude is not rewarded with a happy marriage with him after her first husband kills himself. That wouldn’t send the right message to the young readers. Gertrude must die. The point is that after her first serious error in eloping, she behaved impeccably and she will go to heaven.
The villainess, Mrs. Falconbridge, would be a candidate for scholars looking for subversive pro-feminist messages because she is no helpless shrinking violet. She makes her own way in the world quite capably.
Crazy ladies on a cliff: I recently reviewed the novel What Has Been (1801). A contemporary critic slammed that novel for being derivative. He said, "The wild insanity of the lady at Teignmouth [who warned the heroine to beware the wiles of men] has numerous prototypes…" Well, here we are seven years later, and novelists were still using crazy ladies on a cliff as a foreshadowing device. Gertrude sees one right after her wedding at Gretna Green. The crazy lady tells Gertrude that she eloped twenty years ago: “Oh! Then—oh! Then, what day-dreams of delight went with me!... I left my tender father, and pursued my fated way to Scotland—with a villain!... And here I wander… placed as a beacon… to warn the trusting female to turn back ere yet too late—ere yet she tempts a father’s curse!”
Rifleman at Battle of Corunna About the author
Mrs. E.G. Bayfield is thought to have been an army wife herself. She adds a disclaimer that although several of the officers she portrayed in the book are utter rotters, she did not want to “be accused of attempting to lower the character of our soldiers. We honour our heroic defenders,” and she “purposely introduced” the decent old stick Colonel Purbeck. Likewise, she has both good and bad members of the nobility.
The reviewer assumed the author was a man. “With respect to the moral, he has in a great measure done his best to shew how extremely wrong young women are, who, despising the experience and common sense of their parents, rush wild and foolish on a world of trouble, quitting a parent’s protecting arms and comfortable home, with love, blind love only for their guide, to the embraces of a dissipated young officer for their husband.” The reviewer objected to Audley’s suicide: “the story might have been wound up with equal or more interest if the hero had been made rather to bear the ills he had, than fly to others that he knew not of.” The reviewer also objected to the villainess: “his natural daughter is so truly diabolical, that it spoils the whole piece by its unnatural wickedness.”
Despite my criticisms, I think Black Rock House is worth a look for those who want a comparison to the Lydia/Wickham marriage in Pride and Prejudice, that is, who want to compare a tragic approach to Austen's approach. Also, the gradual way Mrs. Falconbridge's villainy is uncovered, makes this novel an early example of a slow burn thriller. It's also an example of how some female novelists prescribed the ideal of loyalty to a husband, no matter what, in the "bear and forebear" vein.
Previous post: Foundling plots and seduction plots Next post: A "novel-reading miss" goes astray
Mrs. E.G. Bayfield is thought to have been an army wife herself. She adds a disclaimer that although several of the officers she portrayed in the book are utter rotters, she did not want to “be accused of attempting to lower the character of our soldiers. We honour our heroic defenders,” and she “purposely introduced” the decent old stick Colonel Purbeck. Likewise, she has both good and bad members of the nobility.
The reviewer assumed the author was a man. “With respect to the moral, he has in a great measure done his best to shew how extremely wrong young women are, who, despising the experience and common sense of their parents, rush wild and foolish on a world of trouble, quitting a parent’s protecting arms and comfortable home, with love, blind love only for their guide, to the embraces of a dissipated young officer for their husband.” The reviewer objected to Audley’s suicide: “the story might have been wound up with equal or more interest if the hero had been made rather to bear the ills he had, than fly to others that he knew not of.” The reviewer also objected to the villainess: “his natural daughter is so truly diabolical, that it spoils the whole piece by its unnatural wickedness.”
Despite my criticisms, I think Black Rock House is worth a look for those who want a comparison to the Lydia/Wickham marriage in Pride and Prejudice, that is, who want to compare a tragic approach to Austen's approach. Also, the gradual way Mrs. Falconbridge's villainy is uncovered, makes this novel an early example of a slow burn thriller. It's also an example of how some female novelists prescribed the ideal of loyalty to a husband, no matter what, in the "bear and forebear" vein.
Previous post: Foundling plots and seduction plots Next post: A "novel-reading miss" goes astray
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