Trollope himself had rated this one of the weakest of his novels:
“I do not know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even by my friends, and I cannot remember that there is any character in it that has dwelt in the minds of novel readers,” he had observed about ‘The Bertrams’ (1859).
In this he does himself gross injustice, for ‘The Bertrams' is by far the most intensely psychological study of character among all his novels relating to money and worldly success. Trollope, of all the Victorians, was the most conscious of money and its effects on men and women (the others took the line that in polite society ideal manners, morals and behaviour mattered more than money), but nowhere does Trollope analyse the subject of the effects of money, status and power so critically as in ‘The Bertrams.'
‘The Bertrams’ is the story of how, with so much promise, almost every person in the book, old or young, man or woman, shipwrecks his/her life, and in what manner they set themselves to right the damage. The wrong choices, the wrong decisions, the false dreams, and how others suffer as a result, forms the impetus of the plot.
The essential plot, the theme, even the characters, are all about wealth and worldly success. It is not enough that a man should earn what might keep body and soul together, not get into debt, and perhaps assume responsibility for a family. No; he must make a splash, “his name should be in all men's mouths;” and he should reckon himself happy with half a million pounds. That is what Mr George Bertram the elder is worth, and that sum is what everyone in the book has their beady eyes on. Well, almost everybody.
The Vicar of Hurst Staple, Arthur Wilkinson, one of the three heroes of the novel, the least successful, but in his quiet way, the happiest man, certainly does not. Nor does his good friend and cousin, George Bertram, the main man of the story, and the elder Mr Bertram’s nephew. Whether this is because George is pigheaded, or because he has noble instincts, is for you to determine as you get deeper into the story.
Throughout his life, Arthur will play second fiddle to George, but then, life has bestowed upon him the great gifts of humility and happiness. Our third hero, Henry Harcourt, is a man a couple of years senior to George and Arthur, hard at work studying to be a barrister, and in every respect far more worldly and practical than the other two. Of the three men, therefore, he makes the most of his chances, and for a while, he has it all - power, success and wealth. Indifference to wealth is not a charge to be laid at the door of Mr Henry Harcourt (later elevated into the knighthood), nor of his wife, the Lady Caroline Harcourt, who jilts young Bertram after a three-year engagement to marry Sir Henry.
If money is what drives the plot forward, the ostensible main plot is about the romance of the three young men. Arthur Wilkinson is in love with the incredibly gentle, loving, the flawless Adela Gauntlet. He is reluctant to marry her, because by the terms on which he has been gifted the living of the parsonage is that two thirds of his income be paid to his mother. Now Mrs Wilkinson is a fledgling Mrs Bishop Proudie of ‘Barchester Towers.’ Not only does she take the money for granted, she assumes that the vicarage itself is her own property, that she is the appointed and anointed Vicaress, and that her son is her curate, nothing more. So - end of romance. The romance of Henry Harcourt, George Bertram and Caroline Waddington takes a much more circuitous and very thorny route, as the three have very different aspirations in life.
‘The Bertrams’ has sometimes been described as a travel book, but it is not quite that. There is no doubt but that travel does play a large role both at the beginning and the second half of the novel. Trollope’s descriptions of Egypt and Jerusalem seem to take the place of the hunting and shooting that are an integral part of any Trollope story. Modern readers might be disturbed by the disparaging, even racist, remarks about dervishes or attitudes to prayer that he describes, but the novel was written even before the American Civil War, just to give a perspective of the timeline, and the British Empire saw almost all peoples and habits as inferior to themselves. The word 'racist’ had not even come into general usage in the sense that we attach to it.
Trollope, despite his many novels based on the Church of England, and its intra church dissensions, as well with the rapid growth of Methodist and other nonConformist sects in highly conservative areas, is not a religious writer. However, the Jerusalem chapters introduce a new theme: religion.
It is in Jerusalem that George Bertram has his epiphany, sitting alone in the Mount of Olives, that place sacred to all Christians, and to them alone. As he muses over the Biblical places where the Lord walked and prayed, Bertram feels as if he had had a spiritual experience of an exalted nature, and he is seized by the impulse to dedicate his life to the Church. As Trollope admits, this impulse didn't stay with him very long, but while it did, it seems to have had a powerful sway over his youthful imagination.
By far the greatest influence in Jerusalem as well as in the novel itself, is the introduction of Trollope’s ‘donna primissima,’ who is the undoubted first lady of the novel as well. Miss Caroline Waddington. Beautiful, cold and sadly practical, she tells George Bertram that she “could never be a parson’s wife.” And so George’s future is settled. Indeed, the misfortunes that dog Bertram seem to arise from the fact that he turned his back on the vision vouchsafed to him. Not until he himself acknowledges this with a kind of sad humility, is there any change in his life. Even then, the happiness that crowns the end, is in itself a sad happiness.
There are several subplots, which follow the lives of the minor players. In these minor roles are some of Trollope's great comic characters, the best of them being, to me at least, George's father, Colonel Sir Lionel Bertram. In fact, almost all of them play the part of comics, acting as counterfoil to the grimness of the novel. But the comedy is as intrinsic to the main plot in a way that Dickens’s comic scenes are not, although they might relieve the tension briefly. For Trollope, nobody is introduced merely as a figure of fun, not even his sharp practice lawyers. Their actions and even their brief conversations impact tremendously on the main story. Take the wealthy miser, old Mr George Bertram, young George's uncle. At his death, this is Trollope's eulogy:
“He died full of years, and perhaps in one, and that the most usual acceptation of the word, full of honour. He owed no man a shilling, had been true to all his engagements, had been kind to his relatives with a rough kindness: he had loved honesty and industry, and had hated falsehood and fraud: to him the herd, born only to consume the fruits, had ever been odious; that he could be generous, his conduct in his nephew’s earliest years had plainly shown: he had carried, too, in his bosom a heart not altogether hardened against his kind, for he had loved his nephew, and, to a certain extent, his niece also, and his granddaughter.
But in spite of all this, he had been a bad man. He had opened his heart to that which should never find admittance to the heart of man. The iron of his wealth had entered into his very soul. He had made half a million of money, and that half-million had been his god—his only god—and, indeed, men have but one god.”
This man had been no Silas Marner with his Eppie. But George Bertram – both George Bertrams -- are flesh and blood men, whom we meet and take a strong dislike to until we get to know them a little better. In other words, of all his books, Trollope's ‘Bertrams' is the most natural, the most realistic and almost the most instinctively appreciative of human folly and human goodness.