BFFs—Best Friends 4-ever (literally)

Alicia’s Trollope Posts in Order Here

The Palliser series by Anthony Trollope overflows with great characters and relationships, particularly the eponymous Pallisers– Plantagenet and Glencora, two rich and powerful opposites who somehow build a complicated and deep marriage. But it’s also the story of Glencora and Madame Max, two strong women who evolved what was probably the greatest friendship in Trollope’s many novels.

BFFs—Best Friends Forever (literally)

There are so many great examples of friendship pairs in Trollope’s novels—male and female, negative and positive, supportive and exploitative—that I am convinced “friendship” is one of Trollope’s central themes. And maybe the best friendship of all was born and evolved through his most popular novel series, The Pallisers.

These six long novels chart the marriage of the powerful Pallisers—Plantagenet and Glencora. They were both born into the ultimate wealth and power of the mid-19^th Century British aristocracy.  But while they as individuals and as a couple grew into their privilege and made good use of it, at the start, neither was comfortable with their lives.

Plantagenet was the heir to the Duke of Omnium, a wealthy and eccentric old man. “Planty” was an odd duck, especially as an aristocrat. He was painfully shy, and yet determined to be a political force (eventually he became the prime minister). He was very privileged, but dedicated to liberal causes. He was surrounded by the casual libertinism and corruption of the upper class, and yet was a fundamentally disciplined and honorable man.

Lady Glencora was a real poor little rich girl. Orphaned young, reared by autocratic aunts, denied any real nurturing, she came into her enormous fortune surrounded by fortune-hunters and desperately in need of love. Of course, love came calling in the form of the handsome, reckless Burgo Fitzgerald. Did he love her, or just her fortune? Well, she was a pretty, charming girl, easy to love—as all of London society learned. So maybe he did, but not as much as she loved him. She loved this useless fribble all her life—thinking of him even as she died—even as she came to love her honorable husband also. And she loved Burgo even after he broke her heart again by deserting her when her husband paid his debts.

But her heedless love was evidence not just of the needy child-within, but of an energetic and adventurous spirit that made her wildly popular in London society, and beloved by her friends and family.

Yes, she did marry someone else, someone her managing aunts chose to protect her against the likes of Burgo. And you know, maybe sometimes stern guardians choose better husband than do madcap heiresses. Plantagenet Palliser was indeed a dull stick as well as an odd duck, but he was also a good man who ultimately put her first and gave her both the love and the structure she needed.

Interestingly, the woman who became her best friend was rather like her somber husband. Madame Marie Goesler (also known as Madame Max) was also older, stable and thoughtful, rich and politically astute. And, again like Planty Palliser, Marie was cautious and yet still capable of falling in love with a spirited, charming, and sometimes foolish younger partner (Phineas Finn in her case).

When Lady Glencora met Madame Max, she didn’t immediately notice her resemblance to Planty Palliser. Instead, she initially saw her as a threat to the Pallisers, likely to steal away the family title and estates.

The Curious Rivals

When Madame Max, the widow of a wealthy German, arrived in London, Lady Glencora was already a social force. She even wielded some political power, using charming conversation and glittering dinner parties to garner support for her husband’s liberal policies. But Lady G knew her family’s prospects were closely linked to Planty’s status as nephew and heir to the rich and powerful Duke of Omnium.

The duke was a real character—rambunctious, imperious, flirtatious. He had never married, but always had pretty younger women around, and he loved big entertainments and ceremonies. Madame Max was not a typical flirt for him, as she was sharply intelligent, successful in her own right, and uninterested in marriage. Maybe this nonchalance was just the key to capture the duke. He proposed marriage to the woman who had no need to marry.

Lady Glencora immediately perceived the threat. Madame Max was still in her thirties, and possibly still capable of providing the duke with the legitimate heir who could displace Plantagenet. Always a favorite of the duke, Lady Glencora redoubled her attentions to him, often joining him when he entertained Madame Max. Unexpectedly, she and Madame Max came to enjoy these encounters and soon were socializing away from the duke’s presence. Partly in the interests of her new friend, Madame Max turned down his proposal, though she remained a stalwart friend till his dying day.

The friendship between the two women only grew after that. While they were quite different, especially in temperament, they complemented each other. Lady G’s exuberant sincerity overcame Madame Max’s caution about bigoted English nobles (it was generally assumed that she or her late husband were Jewish, which despite the Jewish-at-birth prime minister, was still considered suspicious). Madame Max could temper Lady G’s occasional excesses with good German common sense. They were both interested in politics and in progressive policy, and combined to help Planty get his “radical” agenda enacted.

The Phineas Connection

A pivotal if unplanned collaboration in the early years cemented their friendship—the trial of Phineas Finn. Phineas, a charming young Irishman, was an outsider in parliamentary politics, but quickly became a favorite party-guest of Lady G, who brought him into the charmed circle of her husband’s radical party. Madame Max admired him for rather different reasons. Phineas had a charm that attracted most women, even one as experienced and reserved as Madame Max. In the first Phineas novel, always the take-charge lady, she even proposed to him—though with characteristic discretion and subtlety. She suggested sensibly that she could help back him politically with her wealth and influence. At that point, he was rather too entangled emotionally with a younger lady to be open to a pragmatic marriage, but they stayed friends.

Lady Glencora witnessed this discreet interaction, and recognized what Phineas didn’t, that Mme Max’s desire was romantic, not just pragmatic. This deepened her appreciation for the wealthy widow. Previously she had respected Madame Max’s composure and good sense, but now she sensed the passion underneath, the sort of passion that drove Lady G almost to open scandal years before. She had to have been surprised and impressed that, far from disintegrating when Phineas refused, Madame Max remained his loyal friend and dignified supporter.

Years later, when the accident-prone Phineas was falsely accused of murdering a colleague, they formed unlikely and unspoken alliance to save him. Lady Glencora worked in social and political settings to bolster support for Phineas, especially with her husband and his political allies. She also helped to finance Phineas’s defense. Madame Max became uncharacteristically assertive, investigating other suspects and travelling back to her previous home of Central Europe to track down the witness that proved his innocence. While they didn’t coordinate their efforts, each working independently, their united defense saved him and restored him to his previous position.

It also brought the two women together in mutual respect and enjoyment. Over the next decade, their friendship deepened. They were opposites in so many ways, and yet complementary. Lady Glencora’s openness broke through Madame Max’s reserve, while Max’s discreet good counsel tempered the worst of Glencora’s excesses. Knowing that within Madame Max’s cool shell was a deep romanticism, Glencora was able to confide about her longstanding passion for the man-who-got-away. And Madame Max could subtly reinforce the quality of the man-who-stayed, Palliser.

The End that Did Not End Them

The greatest test of friendship was the ending. Lady Glencora died young, leaving behind a shattered husband and three children just entering adulthood. She died knowing that she could count on her best friend. And despite her own profound grief, Madame Max stayed to fulfill her promise to support the bereaved family.  Though she herself might sympathize with Palliser’s paternal caution, she risked his wrath by staunchly if quietly supporting the insistence of two of the children to marry for love rather than safety and position. She understood how hard this was for Palliser, who had to feel that this was another protest of the choice Lady G was forced to make when she married him. But Madame Max’s unswerving loyalty to Lady Glen’s wishes and her deep empathy for Palliser won him over in the end, and he accepted his children’s marriages. This preserved the family her best friend had left behind.

The friendship of Madame M and Lady G was almost a character on its own, growing and changing through the events of the Palliser novels. From its start in rivalry and suspicion, through growing respect and trust, the friendship evolves in response to the actions and interactions of both women. Trollope never dramatized this friendship with overt declarations but developed it as a living presence, showing his respect for women as fully realized people with agency, intellect, and emotional depth.  By allowing their relationship to grow organically across multiple novels, Trollope affirmed that women’s inner lives and interpersonal bonds can shape not only personal lives but also the greater world.

Best friends forever = Lady G and Madame Max!