The Macdermots Of Ballycloran by Anthony Trollope

The Macdermots Of Ballycloran by Anthony Trollope (1847)

    In Ireland, particularly in the poorer parts---to rank among which, County Leitrim has a right which will not be disputed---a few trees together are always the recognised sign of a demesne, of a gentleman's seat, or the place where a gentleman's seat has been; and I directly knew that this must be a demesne. But ah! how impoverished, if one might judge from outward appearances. Two brick pillars, from which the outside plaster had peeled off and the coping fallen, gave evidence of former gates; the space was closed up with a loose built wall, but on the outer side of each post was a little well worn footpath, made of soft bog mould. I of course could not resist such temptation, and entered the demesne. The road was nearly covered with that short dry grass which stones seem to throw up, when no longer polished by the wealthier portion of man or brute kind.
    About thirty feet from the gap a tall fir had half fallen, and lay across the road, so that a man should stoop to walk under it; it was a perfect barrier to any equipage, however humble, and the roots had nearly refixed themselves in their reversed position, showing that the tree had evidently been in that fallen state for years.
    The usual story, thought I, of Connaught gentlemen; an extravagant landlord, reckless tenants, debt, embarrassment, despair, and ruin. Well, I walked up the deserted avenue, and very shortly found myself in front of the house. Oh, what a picture of misery, of useless expenditure, unfinished pretence, and premature decay!

A word of explanation:

Last year a group of us undertook a close reading the restored version of Anthony Trollope's The Duke's Children, examining the differences between the version published in 1880, for which Trollope was forced to cut his manuscript down from a four-volume to a three-volume novel, the removal of some 65,000 words, and the edition released in 2015, which for the first time went back to the original text.

This was not the first time Trollope had been forced to make changes to one of his books; however the circumstances were rather different. After the publication of Trollope's first novel, The Macdermots Of Ballycloran, in 1847, the book fell into censorship difficulties, as well as facing some other criticisms. For the second edition, which did not appear until 1860, Trollope made a variety of cuts, including the complete removal of three chapters.

The 1860 text has subsequently become the "standard" text; although some editions include the three chapters as an appendix.

However, there are at least two exceptions to this rule. In 1979, the Garland Press was the first to reissue the original text, for its series of 19th century Irish fiction; this was followed by the 1991 edition published by The Trollope Society.

No formal comparison of the two versions, such as we now have for The Duke's Children, exists for The Macdermots Of Ballycloran. My aim here is to attempt to examine simultaneously the two versions of the latter, to discover the differences between them - and how those differences change the novel - and to record them here as a reference.

While this is purely for my own information, it is my hope that others might subsequently find this thread useful.

And if anyone wishes to 'read along', or to offer comments while I'm doing this, they would be most welcome.

Of course, having had this bright idea, then I had to decide the most practical way of going about it.

Perversely, it turned out that my academic library held three different copies of the rarer, uncut version of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran (including a copy of the 1847 edition, in its Rare Books section), but actually did *not* hold what I've been calling the "standard" edition.

However, the latter is the version offered free online by Project Gutenberg, and my first thought was to compare the two texts, chapter by chapter. Then it occurred to me that the comparison might be easier via audiobook. Librivox does offer a reading of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran using the 1860 text (and without the extra chapters), and this seemed the best option for comparison with the Trollope Society edition.

We'll see. :)

Background

Between 1841 and 1851, and between 1853 and 1859, Anthony Trollope lived and worked in Ireland. He was also married in Ireland, and his children were born there. His situation with the Post Office took him all the country, and brought him into contact with a wide variety of people. During this time he gained a first-hand understanding of the Irish situation, and the incredible hardships suffered by many of the country Irish in particular, under the English laws governing land ownership and the frequent absentee landlordism. He grew not only to appreciate the Irish people, but to sympathise with their situation: an attitude unusual in an Englishman, and one not always appreciated by his countrymen.

It was in Ireland that Anthony Trollope began to write; and, naturally enough, he was greatly influenced by the country and the people around him. He began The Macdermots Of Ballycloran in September of 1843, inspired by his discovery of a crumbling, deserted property (as he recounts in his first-person opening), but did not finish it until 1845. (He married in 1844.) He sent the manuscript to his mother, Frances Trollope, herself a very successful novelist, asking her to try and get it published.

The discovery that Anthony - long considered the dunce of his family - had turned novelist was a considerable surprise to the rest of the Trollopes, not least to his mother, with whom his relationship had always been difficult. Whether out of disapproval or doubt of Anthony's enterprise, Frances took the manuscript to one of London's lesser publishers, T. Cauley Newby. Newby agreed to publish it on a profit-sharing basis---and that (so the story goes) was the last Anthony heard of it. It may well be true that he earned nothing for it at the time, but it seems that the book was read and remarked upon---and appreciated, in Ireland if not in England.

In 1860, the copyright of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran reverted to its author. He persuaded Chapman & Hall, who had become his regular publishers (and made a small fortune on Doctor Thorne) to reissue his first novel, and it was at this time that the cuts were made---but it remains unclear whether the publishers demanded them, or Trollope was second-guessing his book.

The Chapman & Hall text became, as noted, the "standard" version of the novel, and given the obscurity of its first release, was received in some quarters as effectively a new novel. However, even in that form, it was often criticised for its grimness---when it wasn't being dismissed for simply being Irish. Though a number of positive critical reactions were recorded at that time, the novel slipped out of the public consciousness; publishers, when reissuing Trollope's works, rarely bothered to include it; and it was not until Trollope was subject to critical reassessment more than a century later that The Macdermots Of Ballycloran was revived and restored.

So let's see how / if this works...

Chapter 1

This first-person chapter recounts how the author, while waiting for a coach in the village of Drumnsa, stumbled across a ruined property on it outskirts. As the leaves on the coach, he discovers that the driver is able to tell him the story of the property, Ballycloran, and its former owners, the Macdermots.

The house was two stories high, with large stone steps up to the front door, with four windows in the lower, and six in the upper story, and an area with kitchens, etc., below. The entire roof was off; one could see the rotting joists and beams, some fallen, some falling, the rest ready to fall, like the skeleton of a felon left to rot on an open gibbet...

Only minor changes have been made to the text here---mostly tidying up the grammar, and occasionally shifting the emphasis of a sentence.

Of Trollopean note is that the coach-driver, called only "McC---" in the text, was apparently based on a real person, McCluskie, known indeed for his story-telling and good humour. Perversely, Trollope later gave the surname M'Cluskie to his most famous heroine, Lady Glencora, Duchess of Omnium.

Chapter 2

Here we are given the back-story of this branch of the Macdermot family: a younger son is given (poor) land as his portion, and insists upon building a gentleman's house upon it---thus plunging himself and his descendants into a life of debt, interest payments, and financial struggle. The builder to whom the money is owned offers his daughter as wife to the heir to this estate, but he will not have a working-man's daughter and so makes an enemy for life. When he does marry, Larry Macdermot has two children, Thaddeus (Thady) and Euphemia (Feemy).

With all his faults, Thady was perhaps a better man than his father; he was not so indomitably idle; had he been brought up to anything, he would have done it; he was more energetic, and felt the degradation of his position; he felt that his family was sinking lower and lower daily; but as he knew not what to do, he only became more gloomy and more tyrannical...

Again, there is some tweaking her but no major changes. The most significant alteration is a deletion, the omission of the phrase, ...through all the troubles of his poor country..., which might indicate a lessening of the novel's overt sympathies with the Irish situation.

Chapter 3

There are essentially no changes to this dialogue-heavy chapter.

Here we learn that Thady has the impossible job of trying to wring the rent money out of his father's tenants, so that he in turn can meet his payment to the builder, Flannelly, and his attorney, Keegan.

This chapter introduces the amoral Pat Brady, who acts as a sort of steward / go-between for Thady, but whose main occupation is stirring up trouble. He does so here by shifting Thady's attention to the growing gossip about Feemy's connection with Captain Myles Ussher, the district's revenue officer: increasing Thady's already existing dislike of Ussher, and prompting him to side with those supplementing their poor incomes via illegal whiskey distillation.

    "Faith he'd better take care of himself, if it's my sister he's playing his game with; he'll find out, though there aint much to be got worth having at Ballycloran now, as long as there's a Macdermot in it, he may still get the traitment a blackguard desarves, if he plays his tricks with Feemy!"
    Pat saw that his object had been gained; he suspected that no warm feelings of friendship existed in his master towards the aforesaid Captain, and he was determined there should be none if he could help it. He was not wrong in his surmises; for, from the constant visits of Myles Ussher to Ballycloran, people had for some time been saying that he meant to marry Feemy. They now began to say that he ought to do so...

Chapter 4

Again, only minor tweaking.

This is an important chapter, giving the backdrop to the previous conversation between Thady and Pat brady, and outlining the political, legal and religious tensions around Ballycloran.

We learn of a hopeless vicious circle, in which high rents and poor land drive the local people into the production and distribution of 'potheen', in order to supplement their incomes. Ussher's vigilance (assisted by spies) has led to numerous arrests, making the rest still more desperate.

A key arrest is that of Tim Reynolds, was was technically innocent, that is, of the specific offence he was arrested for. Tim's brother Joe is the local firebrand, who has passed from mere discontent to outright rebellion, in collecting a gang of 'ribbonmen'---a secret society of the Irish Catholic rural poor that arose in protest against the landowners and landlords, with the initial aim of resisting evictions on the grounds of defalcation of rent. However, the movement became more violent in opposition to the revenue officers.

Pat Brady is also a ribbonman, and is effectively playing the two sides of the matters against each other, via his connection with the Macdermots.

We have heard of Thady's feeling of loyalty towards his tenants at Ballycloran, even those he must squeeze them for their rents so that his father may make his half-yearly payment to Flannelly and Keegan. We now discover that his loyalty is greater than his tenants', and that they are prepared to turn on him if necessary. However, Pat Brady has hopes of making Thady one of themselves, and using him to get rid of Ussher.

It is now made clear that the Macdermots and their tenants are Catholic, while Ussher is a Protestant: another cause of grievance and dislike. Ordinarily he would not have been allowed anywhere near Feemy, but so demoralised are matters at Ballycloran that neither Ussher's religion nor his profession have barred the doors to him. That in spite of this he has (apparently) spoken disrespectfully of Feemy is one more local grievance.

"That's all very well, Pat, and we'd be sorry to see harum come to Mr Larry and the young masther along of such born robbers as them; but is them dearer to us than our own flesh and blood? As long as they and the like of them'd stand between us and want, the divil a Keegan of them all'd dare put a foot in Ballycloran. But who is it now rules all at Ballycloran? Who, but that bloody robber, Ussher? They'd go through the country for him, the born ruffian,---may food choke him!---and he making little of them all the time. Bad manners to the like of him! they say he never called an honest woman his mother. Will I, Mr Brady, be giving my blood for them, and he putting my brother in gaol, and all for sitting up warming his shins at Loch Sheen? No; may this be my curse if I do!" and Joe Reynolds swallowed a glass of whiskey; "and you may tell Mr. Thady, Pat, if he wants the boys to stick to him, let him stick to them, and not be helping a d----d ruffian to be dhriving the lives out of them he should befriend. And maybe he will want us, and that soon; and if he'll stick to us now, as his fathers always did, sure it's little he need be fearing Flannelly and Keegan. By G--, the first foot they set in Ballycloran they shall leave there forever, if Thady Macdermot will help rid his father's land of that bloody ruffian."

Chapter 5

Another long and important chapter, mostly untouched,.

This chapter introduces Father John McGrath, the parish priest. The Macdermots Of Ballycloran is striking for its lack of editorialisation around the subject of religion, and for its sympathetic though not idealised portrait of a Catholic priest.

(Father John too was evidently based upon someone Trollope new in Ireland, who had helped him out of some trouble soon after his arrival in Ireland.)

In this chapter we see Father John's intimate knowledge of, and care for, his parishioners, from the highest to the lowest; and become aware that the situation between Captain Ussher and Feemy is growing somewhat ugly, as the length of the Captain's "courtship", with no marriage in sight, is beginning to do damage to Feemy.

We also see that Thady is reluctant to interfere for a variety of reasons---sheer embarrassment, for one; his father's attempts to borrow money from Ussher, for another. Furthermore, with all the weight of the family's monetary concerns upon him, Feemy has slipped down the list of Thady's priorities. Though he cares for her, we see much more of family and masculine pride in his reaction to Father John's questioning about Ussher, than brotherly affection.

    "You see, Thady, there's not the least doubt in life poor Feemy's very fond of him; and how could she not be, poor thing, and she seeing no one else, and mewed up there all day with your father?---no blame to her---and in course she thinks he means all right; only she doesn't like to be asking him to be naming the day, or talking to you or Larry, or the like, and that's natural too; but what I fear is, that he's taking advantage of her ignorance and quietness, you see; and, though I don't think she would do anything really wrong, nor would he lead her astray altogether---"
    "And av he did, Father John, I'd knock the brains out of the scoundrel, though they hung me in Carrick Gaol for it; I would, by G--!"
    "Whisht, now, Thady; I don't mean that at all---but you get so hot---but what I really mean is this; though no actual harm might come of it, it doesn't give a girl a good name through the country, for her to be carrying on with a young man too long, and that all for nothing; and Feemy's too pretty and too good, to have a bad word about her. And so, to make a long story short, I think you'd better just speak to her, and tell her, if you like, what I say; and then, you know, if you find things not just as they should be, ask her not to be seeing the Captain any more, except just as she can't help; and do you tell him that he's not so welcome at Ballycloran as he was, or ask him at once what he means about your sister. It's making too little of any girl to be asking a man to marry her, but better that than let her break her heart, and get ill spoken of through the country too."
    "I don't think they dare do that yet, poor as the Macdermots now are, or, by heaven---"
    "There's your pride,---bad pride, again, Thady. Poor or rich, high or low, don't let your sister leave it to any one to speak bad of her, or put it in any man's power to hurt her character..."

Chapter 6

Mostly tweaking, although also the removal of some small bits of lightening humour, in a fairly grim chapter.

Here Trollope expands upon the difficult and uncomfortable situations of all three Macdermots---Larry's slide into drunken senility, which leaves Thady trapped without any real authority; Thady and Feemy's lack of a proper education, which results in both being governed by their feelings instead of their principles. We also hear more of the "bad pride", of which Father John has previously warned Thady.

We see how in a clash with Myles Ussher, Thady is at a constant disadvantage, in being unable to express himself properly---even though in this case, he is certainly in the right and Ussher in the wrong, with respect to the latter's attentions to Feemy, which do not seem to mean marriage. Thady's inability to put his concerns into words leads him, in effect, to insult Feemy, driving a wedge between the two of them, and her into stronger loyalty towards Ussher, despite the latter's barely concealed contempt of her father and brother.

    He had come there eager with two high feelings, love for his sister, real fond brotherly affection, and love and respect for his family name; he had wished to protect the former from insult and unhappiness, and to sustain the fallen respectability of the latter; and he had only been scoffed at and upbraided by the sister he loved. For he did love her, though little real communication had ever passed between them; he had always supposed that she loved him; he had taken it for granted, and had asked for no demonstrative affection; but her manner and her words now cut him very deep. He was not aware how very uncouth his own manner had been; that instead of reasoning with her gently he had begun by sneering at her lover, that he had taken the very course to offend her self-love, and that therefore Feemy was quite as convinced at the end of the meeting that she had a right to be angry, as he was that he was the injured party.
    At any rate, there he stood perfectly baffled. His object had been to advise her, if Captain Ussher did not at once declare his purpose to her family, to put a stop to his further visits; and if she refused to comply with his advice, to tell her that he should himself ask Captain Ussher his intentions, and that if they were not such as he approved, he should inform him that he was no longer welcome at Ballycloran.
    This had seemed, though disagreeable, straightforward and easy enough before the meeting; and now that it was over he could not think why he had not said exactly what he had come there to say...

Chapter 7

We get our first piece of serious cutting here.

What is very evident is that when the book was reissued, some 13 years after its initial publication, there was an attempt made to reduce the importance and presence of Father John. We do not know where the impetus for this came from, but it seems likely that so much focus upon a Catholic priest was deemed unwanted---that the generosity and sympathy with which Father John is presented was found inappropriate. Much of the larger pieces of editing to the book, including the removal of whole chapters, have to do with the lessening of Father John's position in the narrative.

In this first instance, a piece of character detailed is removed, in the scene in which Father John has a very uncomfortable dinner with Thady and his curate, Father Cullen:

    "Well, boys," said he, sitting down and pulling off his dirty gaiters and shoes before the fire, "waiting for the goose, eh? Egad, when I found what time it was, I thought you'd be bribing Judy to divide it between you. Cullen, you look awfully hungry; I'd better set you at the ham first, or you'll make terrible work at the half bird---for a half is all there is for the three of us. Well, Judy, let's have the stew, and we'll do a little ornithology." These last words were spoken rather to himself than to his company. When any half humorous phrase rose to Father John's tongue, such as he used to use when living among those of more cultivated intellect, and which would not be understood by his present associates, he did not check it himself, he said it aloud to himself. This was a great safety-valve to his pent-up ideas. He lived so much, so entirely among persons, in comparison with himself, uneducated, and was yet so prone to would-be witticisms---jeux de mots---that he was used to utter them to himself. To check them altogether would be too great a restraint; he consequently talked a good deal to himself in this way.
    The dinner was now brought in, and Father John talked joyously, as though nothing was on his mind...

We get a sense from this of Father John's intellectual isolation in this poor parish, where even the members of the "best family" are uneducated and unable to meet him in conversation. This provides an explanation of sorts for Father John's personal tolerance of Myles Ussher who, though a Protestant, and a revue officer, and (we are gathering) not the most principled of men, is nevertheless the best the priest has by way of a companion.

The person we might consider Father John's proper companion, Father Cullen, is presented to us in this chapter as a humourless, intolerant man---though a good and devoted priest, and with a sound grasp of the political situation in the country. It is via Father Cullen that we get our first glimpse into some of the damage done in Ireland through English Protestant rule, either through ignorance, or perhaps intentionally; including the vicious circle of poverty around the illegal whiskey trade:

    "And bad manners to them Commissioners and people they sent over bothering and altering the people! Couldn't we have our own parishes as we like, and fix them ourselves, but they must be sending English people to give us English parishes, altering the meerings just to be doing something? You know, Thady, the far end of Loch Sheen up there?"
    "Yes, Father Cullen, I know where Loch Sheen is."
    "Well, that used to be Cashcarrigan parish; and Father Comyns—that's the parish priest in Cash—don't live not two miles all out from there; and the widow Byrne's is six miles from where I live out yonder, if it's a step, and yet they must go and put Loch Sheen into this parish."
    Father Cullen's misfortunes still did not come home to Macdermot; he sat looking at the fire.
    "There's that poor ould woman, too, up there, left to starve by herself, the crature, now they've gone and put her two sons into gaol. I wonder what the counthry 'll be the better for all them boys being crammed into gaol. I wish they'd kept that Ussher down in the north when he was there; he's fitter for that place than County Leitrim, any how."

And so that we know that this is not merely Father Cullen's Irish Catholic prejudices at work (as real as those are), we are given a glimpse of Father John's view of the matter too---and see the dangerous deterioration of conditions:

He had also had a sad morning's work with his curate, his parishioners were in great troubles, the times were very bad on them; many of them were in gaol for illegal distillation; more were engaged in the business, and were determined so to continue in open defiance of the police; many of them were becoming ribbonmen, or, at any rate, were joining secret and illegal societies. Driven from their cabins and little holdings, their crops and cattle taken from them, they were everywhere around desperate with poverty, and discontented equally with their own landlords and the restraints put upon them by government. All this weighed heavily on Father John's mind, and he strongly felt the difficulty of his own situation; but he was not the man to allow his spirits to master him when entertaining others in his own house...

Chapter 8

This chapter is almost untouched, as it deepens our understanding of Feemy's anomalous position---with respect to Myles Ussher in the first place, who has talked broadly to her of marriage but made no attempt to formalise their engagement, or speak to her father or brother, in the six months he has been visiting at Ballycloran; and with respect to Larry Macdermot's continued authority at Ballycloran, despite his mental incapacity.

Seeing that Thady is getting nowhere, Father John brings himself to speak to Feemy himself about Ussher, but finds her stubborn and defiant. Nevertheless, between what Thady, Father John and even Mary Brady have said to her about her situation, she does begin to worry that the gossip may be true, and Ussher may be toying with her. But between her fear of him, and her fear of losing him, she cannot bring herself to take her friends' advice:

    "Then, Feemy, I may as well tell you at once---if you will not trust to me, to your brother, or any friend who may be able to protect you from insult---nor prevail on your lover to come forward in a decent and respectable way, and avow his purpose---it will become your brother's duty to tell him that his visits can no longer be allowed at Ballycloran."
    "Ballycloran doesn't belong to Thady, and he can't tell him not to come."
    "That's not well said of you, Feemy; for you know your father is not capable of interfering in this business; but if, as under those circumstances he will do, Thady quietly and firmly desires Captain Ussher to stay away from Ballycloran, I think he'll not venture to come here. If he does, there are those who will still interfere to prevent him."
    "And if among you all, that are so set up against him because he's not one of your own set, you dhrive him out of Ballycloran, I can tell you, I'll not remain in it!"
    "Then your sins and your sorrows must be on your own head!"

I read this last year, so I'm following along with your comments and excerpts, Liz, although not re-reading. What I remember is being frustrated with all the MacDermotts (Feemy, Thady and their father); they all seem to have good points, but very real flaws, too.

I have to admit I was puzzled by Father John at first--couldn't quite figure out if he was someone Trollope wanted us to trust or mistrust, but fairly soon I could feel that he was trustworthy and a hero of sorts, if this story has any "good guy" at all. I'm wondering if some of the "cutting" affected how I perceived Father John, or at least that I warmed to him gradually. (Then again, as a fallen-away Catholic, my trust in priests is minimal to non-existent anyway.)

I remember the story seemed to move slowly until the last third of the book, and sometimes the dialect got in the way for me, too.

A visitor!?

Thanks for dropping in. :)

It's so unusual to find a positive portrait of a Catholic priest in a 19th century English novel that we're automatically suspicious, I think, but certainly Father John was meant as a positive character overall. However like everyone else he has his flaws. And there's also a limit to what he can do. The economic hardship and the law-breaking that flows from it are beyond his powers, so that often he can only try to pick up the pieces afterwards.

There is an attempt here to show both sides of the issue---where the Irish system itself was at fault, but also how the English laws, both social and religious, were exacerbating an already difficult situation. In fact it's interesting that Trollope did not place an absentee landlord at the heart of his story, but rather an irresponsible Irish one---or perhaps more correctly, he shows the consequences of the "bad pride" of the Macdermots, as Father John frequently says, which led to the building of the house in the first place, and now leads Thady astray.

The story is quite slow but this is one of the very few novels of the time really to go into detail about Irish country life, and that desire contributes to it. (Plus of course it's a first novel, without the flow we're accustomed to.)

I was okay with the dialect while I was reading, but the Librivox version is making me grit my teeth, I'm afraid!

Chapter 9

Some important cutting in this chapter.

I remarked above that Trollope chose to deal with resident Irish landlords in the Macdermots, rather than the absentee landlord (Irish or English) more commonly seen in accounts of Irish poverty and rural troubles.

However, he does not let the absentee off the hook. In this chapter, he describes the small village of Mohill, which offers an example the very depths of the misery in which the Irish poor were forced to live---and which is, the narrative observes without comment, the property of a non-resident landlord.

From general ugliness and futility, Trollope moves in to describe the situation of one family, crammed into a tiny, dark, dirty litte shack; the kicker comes at the end:

    A sickly woman, the entangled nature of whose insufficient garments would defy description, is sitting on a low stool before the fire, suckling a miserably dirty infant; a boy, whose only covering is a tattered shirt, is putting fresh, but, alas, damp turf beneath the pot in which are put to boil the potatoes---their only food. Two or three dim children---their number is lost in their obscurity---are cowering round the dull, dark fire, atop of one another; and on a miserable pallet beyond---a few rotten boards, propped upon equally infirm supports, and covered over with only one thin black quilt---is sitting the master of the mansion; his grizzly, unshorn beard, his lantern jaws and shaggy hair, are such as his home and family would lead one to expect. And now you have counted all that this man possesses; other furniture has he none---neither table nor chair, except that low stool on which his wife is sitting. Squatting on the ground---from off the ground, like pigs, only much more poorly fed---his children eat the scanty earnings of his continual labour.
    And yet for this abode the man pays rent...

It is obvious in this chapter that Trollope is describing what he had seen for himself in Ireland---and that what he saw had shocked and horrified him.

In the cut passages, Trollope draws a link between the inability of the Irish to earn a living wage with the rebellious uprisings which were all the English saw. We understand how desperate things were in the towns, when the earning of a sixpence is called 'miraculous':

    The miserable appearance of Irish peasants, when in the very lowest poverty, strikes one more forcibly in the towns than in the open country. The dirt and filth around them seems so much more oppressive on them; they have no escape from it. There is much also in ideas and associations. On a road-side, or on the borders of a bog, the dusty colour of the cabin walls, the potato patch around it, the green scraughs or damp brown straw which form its roof, all the appurtenances, in fact, of the cabin, seem suited to the things around it. But in a town this is not so. It evidently should not be there—its squalidness and filth are all that strike you. Poverty, to be picturesque, should be rural. Suburban misery is as hideous as it is pitiable. But it is not only in appearance that the poverty of the inhabitants of town cabins is more oppressive than that of his fellow-sufferers in the country, but it actually is so. And woe to the poor country labourer who comes into a town, leaving his little holding, under the impression that where so many of the---comparatively speaking---wealthy live, money must be to be had---work and wages must be going.
    This must be true for those who have some smattering of mechanical lore, be it ever so humble; who have acquired knowledge, besides that of merely working the soil. For him whose only trade is such---what should he do in a town? The land from which he must draw his support is twice as dear on him, and his means of subsistence lessened. Besides, should chance miraculously favour him, should he now and again earn a solitary sixpence, the very money he has so hardly earned leads him into mischief. Those who have so often disturbed Ireland, and who have given her so bad a name throughout the world---Whiteboys, Terryalts, Ribbonmen, and the rest---will be found to have been originally dwellers in towns, and not in the country.
    Again, see that big house...

Intermission

Before I proceed, there are two other important points here:

Firstly, the overriding historical importance of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran is that it is one of the rare novels (contemporary or historical) which describes Ireland before the devastating potato famine. Again and again here, we are told that potatoes are all the poor have to eat; the Macdermots themselves, though landlords, live largely on them. When we see the endemic misery that existed even before that defining tragedy, we are better able to appreciate what its impact must have been.

The second point is that this novel also better helps us to understand the ending of Phineas Finn when, after all his struggles to gain and hold a seat in Parliament, Phineas resigns over "Irish tenant rights". In that novel, published in 1868, it is taken for granted that the reader will understand the situation in Ireland; if we read that it with the descriptions of Ireland from The Macdermots Of Ballycloran in our memories, it makes Phineas' actions easier to understand.

Chapter 9 (Part 2)

The second half of this chapter illustrates the local conditions, the position of the landlords, and the consequences of the cycle of poverty and potheen.

The is a mention of a Mr Cassidy, who is the agent for the absent landlord: the inability of even the best agents to do more than their employers are willing to let them is a recurrent theme in this form of fiction (Maria Edgeworth's The Absentee, for example) offers lengthy portraits of how little good agents can do, and how much damage might be done by bad ones):

Every one says that Mr. Cassidy is a good man, as good to the poor as he can be. But he is not the landlord, he is only the agent. What can he do more than he does?

Then we get a long and sarcastic description of Lord Birmingham, the English absentee landlord---who, we learn, has a well-deserved reputation as a philanthropist, a man who gives to many charitable causes---but who can't or won't meet his responsibilities to his tenants in Mohill.

We understand that the suffering of the Irish is always at the bottom of everyone's priorities list:

    Is the landlord then so hard a man? so regardless of those who depend on him in all their wants and miseries? No, indeed; Lord Birmingham is also a kind, good man, a most charitable man! Look at his name on all the lists of gifts for unfortunates of every description. Is he not the presiding genius of the company for relieving the Poles? a vice-presiding genius for relieving destitute authors, destitute actors, destitute clergymen's widows, destitute half-pay officers' widows? Is he not patron of the Mendicity Society, patron of the Lying-in, Small Pox, Lock, and Fever Hospitals? Is his name not down for large amounts in aid of funds of every description for lessening human wants and pangs? How conspicuous and eager a part too he took in giving the poor Blacks their liberty! was not his aid strongly and gratefully felt by the friends of Catholic emancipation? In short, is not every one aware that Lord Birmingham has spent a long and brilliant life in acts of public and private philanthropy? 'Tis true he lives in England, was rarely in his life in Ireland, never in Mohill. Could he be blamed for this? Could he live in two countries at once? or would the world have been benefited had he left the Parliament and the Cabinet, to whitewash Irish cabins, and assist in the distribution of meal?
    This would be his own excuse, and does it not seem a valid one? Yet shall no one be blamed for the misery which belonged to him...?

(Note that Trollope includes "destitute authors" on his list of Lord Birmingham's charities!)

The rest of the chapter deals with the meeting of the local would-be rebels, in the back of the dingy establishment of Mrs Mulready, who sells potheen.

This scene occurs in the wake of Ussher's arrest of the three men in Chapter 4: all three have been given impossible fines, and may therefore expect to go to jail. Joe Reynolds, brother of the technically innocent Tim, is furious, and plots vengeance against Ussher.

Via a long, dialogue scene, several vital points emerge: that under the existing system, Ussher is paid according to the arrests he makes, and is therefore unlikely to mind "technical innocence"; that a certain Counsellor Webb does what he can for the local men from the magistrates' bench, but is outvoted by his two companions, in particular one Jonas Brown; and that under the stimulation of potheen, Reynolds and his companions are working themselves into a violent rage against Ussher---to the point, perhaps, of murdering him.

Most importantly, we see Pat Brady in a duplicitous light, doing everything he can to further enrage Joe Reynolds and tricking him into taking the lead in the plot against Ussher, while - at least in public - Pat remains silent. Furthermore, we see Pat's intent to use Thady's anger against Ussher in the matter of Feemy to his own ends. He promises to get Thady drunk at his (Brady's) sister's wedding, and then bring him into the conspiracy:

    "...he'll be vexed and out with everything, jist at present. He doesn't like the way that Captain Ussher is schaming with his sister."
    "Like it! no, I wonder av he did; a black-hearted Protestant like him. What business is it a Macdermot would have taking up with the likes of him?"
    "That's not it neither, Joe; but he thinks the Captain don't mane fair by Miss Feemy! and by the blessed Virgin, he ain't far wrong."
    "Then why don't he knock the life out of the traitor? or av there is rasons why he shouldn't do it hisself, why don't he get one of the boys as'd be glad of the job to help him..."

Chapter 10

There is some trimming of detail here---and also our first instance of overt censorship.

This chapter properly introduces the attorney, Mr Keegan, who acts as go-between for the builder, Mr Flannelly, who holds the mortgage on Ballycloran, in his dealings with the Macdermots. Although Keegan likes to present himself as a nere messenger, he is an ambitious man with plans of his own for the estate.

He is also a converted Protestant---and it is interesting that Trollope makes this indicative of the man's untrustworthiness and "slippery" nature.

Trollope uses his character sketch of Keegan to underscore the violence - even fatal violence - that was a part of the continual conflict between landlords and tenants:

Mr Keegan boasted a useful kind of courage; he cared but little for the ill name he had acquired by his practice in the country among the poorer classes, and to do him justice, had shown pluck enough in the dangerous duties which he sometimes had to perform; for he acted as agent to the small properties of some absentee landlords, and for a man of his character such duties in County Leitrim were not at that time without risk. He had been shot at, had once been knocked off his horse, and had received various threatening letters; but it always turned out that he discovered the aggressor, and prosecuted and convicted him. One man he had transported for life; in the last case, the man who had shot at him was hung; and consequently the people began to be afraid of Mr Keegan...

Keegan has come to propose that Flannelly buy Ballycloran outright, settling some money upon the Macdermots as part of the deal. Larry's violent, insulting rejection of the offer burns his bridges, and Keegan leaves with a threat to sell Ballycloran over the Macdermots' heads:

    "Mr Keegan, if you want to have my answer, take it, and carry it down to that old bricklayer in Carrick, whose daughter has the divil's bargain in you; and for the like of that you're not bad matched. Tell him from me, Larry Macdermot---tell him from me, that I'm not so owld yet, nor so poor, nor so silly, that he can swindle me out of my lands and house that way. So clever as you think yourself, Mr Keegan, you may walk back to Carrick again, and don't think to call yourself masther of Ballycloran yet awhile."
    "Very well, Mr Macdermot; very well, my fine fellow; look to yourself, and mind, I tell you I'll have a cheaper bargain of the place by this day six months, than I should have now by the terms I'm offering myself."
    "You dirthy mane ruffian---if it was only myself you was wanting to turn out of it---but to be robbing the boy there of his property, that has been working his sowl out these six years for that dirthy owld bricklayer!---And you want the place all to yourself, do you, Mr Keegan? Faix, and a fine estated gintleman you'd make, any how!"
    "Well now; you'll repent the day you made yourself such a fool. However, good morning, Mr Macdermot---good morning; I'll tell them down at Carrick, to keep a warm corner for you in the lane there, where them old beggars sleep at night!"

Thady tries to calm Keegan down, but the furious attorney only abuses him---and insults Feemy into the bargain.

As the later texts stands, Keegan says of her:

"Robbers are we? and what are you and your innocent sister? You know, Thady, she can go to Ussher; he says he'll keep her. She won't be a huckster's wife, you say? better that than a captain's misthress, as all agree she is now."

But in the original text (even there the word couldn't be spelled out):

"She won't be a huckster's wife, you say? better that than a captain's w----, as all agree she is now."

Chapter 11

Just some tweaking.

Here Trollope expands upon the character of the duplicitous Pat Brady, ready to leave the sinking ship of the Macdermots and looking for ways (no matter how dishonest) to ingratiate himself with Keegan; while at the same time trying to lure Thady into the local plots against Keegan and Myles Ussher:

He felt, therefore, that as it was probable that Ballycloran would become his own, Pat Brady's assured services might be of great utility; and he found but little difficulty in obtaining them. Pat was clever enough to foresee that the days of the Macdermots were over, and that it was necessary for him to ingratiate himself with the probable future "masther;" and though he, of course, made sufficiently good market of his treachery, he felt that in all ways he consulted his own interest best in making himself useful to Keegan. He had dim prospects, too, of great worldly advantages which might accrue from being chief informer to so conspicuous a man as Mr Keegan was likely to prove himself, and, with no false self-vanity, he felt himself qualified for such a situation. There was considerable danger in being always among people of a wild and savage nature, to entrap and ensnare whom would be his duty, and he felt that he had the requisite courage. Moreover, there was a certain cunning and prudence necessary, and in that also he, with some truth, fancied himself not deficient; and as Mr. Keegan's scheme opened upon him, the idea of entrapping his young master into the difficulties which lay around, offered not a bad opportunity for the display of his talents...

Interestingly - interesting in that it was *not* cut in the later edition - Trollope goes on to condemn the system of informing which was so integral to the policing of the time, as both profoundly and inherently dishonest in itself, and as responsible for creating rather than preventing crime:

    ...those who have observed the working of the system must admit that the treachery which it creates---the feeling of suspicion which it generates---but, above all, the villanies to which it gives and has given rise, in allowing informers, by the prospect of blood-money, to give false informations, and to entrap the unwary into crimes---are by no means atoned for by the occasional detection and punishment of a criminal.
    Let the police use such open means as they have---and, God knows, in Ireland they should be effective enough; but I cannot but think the system of secret informers---to which those in positions of inferior authority too often have recourse—has greatly increased crime in many districts of Ireland. I by no means intend to assert that this system is patronised or even recognised by Government. I believe the contrary most fully; but those to whom the execution of the criminal laws in detail are committed, and who look to obtain advancement and character by their activity, do very frequently employ what I must call a most iniquitous system of espionage.

Chapter 12

Minor tweaking.

This is a long chapter, describing the wedding of Mary Brady and Denis McGovery. We get the impression that Trollope had himself attended just such a working-class wedding.

However, it's importance is the subsidiary gathering of the aspiring "ribbonmen", including the brothers of the recently jailed men, under the invitation of Pat Brady.

We see here that Father McGrath is not so aware of what is going on in his parish as he thinks---nor of the characters with whom he has to deal. When McGovery tries to warn him about the growing danger to Ussher, he rejects the idea that Brady could be involved in such plots; assuming that only the very poor might be driven to such extremes. McGovery, conversely, pegs the spiteful Brady as an agent provocateur:

    "But what do you think they'd do to the Captain to-night, Denis?"
    "Faix then, yer riverence, I don't know what they'd be doing,---murther him, maybe."
    "God forbid! But, Denis, those men from Drumleesh could hardly know Captain Ussher was going to be at the wedding to-night."
    "Oh! yer riverence, they'd know it well enough from Pat Brady."
    "But you don't think your wife's brother would join a party to murder Ussher?"
    "Why then, Father John---I think it's just he that would be putting the others up to it."
    "Good gracious, Denis! and what would he get by such deeds as that? Isn't he comfortable enough."
    "It isn't them as is poorest, is always the worst..."

The chapter ends with the arrival of Thady, full of his own grievances and vulnerable to bad influences.

We note, however, that it is Feemy's situation above all else which is motivating him:

His father's state---the impossibility of carrying on the war any longer against the enmity of Flannelly and Keegan---his own forlorn prospects---the insult and blow he had just received from the overbearing, heartless lawyer---but, above all, Feemy's condition, and his fears respecting her, were too much for him to bear. After his sister and Captain Ussher had left Ballycloran, he had gone up to the house and had swallowed a couple of glasses of raw whiskey, to drive, as he said to himself, the sorrow out of his heart; and he had now come down to seek the friends whom Brady had recommended to him, and determined, at whatever cost, to revenge himself, by their aid, against Keegan, for the insults he had heaped upon him, and against Ussher for the name which, he believed, he had put upon his sister...

Chapter 13

A long and important chapter, and almost untouched. The only significant change is a reduction in the number of times that a drunken Thady says "damned" (or rather, "d----d"), not just in itself, but in front of Father John.

The first half of the chapter finds Ussher trying to warn Thady against Pat Brady, but Thady is too angry, too proud and too drunk to listen. He is then drawn into the meeting of the ribbonmen. We see the cross-purposes at work: the rebels' anger is directed at Ussher, for his actions as a revenue officer, and it is clear they mean murder; but they play on Thady's own anger against Keegan, and against Ussher for his treatment of Feemy, in order to try and lure him into joining them:

    "But what is it you main to do?"
    "That's what you'll know when you've joined us; but you know it isn't now or here we'd be telling you that which, maybe, would put our necks in your hand. But when you've taken the oath we've all taken, we'll be ready then not only to tell you all, but follow you anywhere."
    The young man paused.
    "Isn't it enough for you to know that our inimies is your inimies---that thim you wishes ill to, we wishes ill to? Isn't Keegan the man you've most cause to hate, an' won't we right you with him? Don't we hate that bloody Captain that is this moment playing his villain's tricks with your own sisther in the next room there? and shure you can't feel very frindly to him. By the holy Virgin, when you're one of us, it's not much longer he shall throuble you. If you can put up with what the likes of them is doing to you---if you can bear all that---why, Mr Thady, you're not the man I took you for. But mind, divil a penny of rint 'll ever go to Ballycloran agin from Drumleesh; for the matter's up now;---you're either our frind or our inimy. But if, Mr Thady, you've the pluck they all says you have---an' which I iver see in you, God bless you!---it's not only one of us you'll be, but the head of us all; for there isn't one but 'll go to hell's gate for your word; an' then the first tinant on the place that pays as much as a tinpenny to Keegan, or to any but jist yourself---by the cross! he may dig his own grave."

Drunk as he is, Thady hesitates and does not swear the necessary oath. He does, however, swear not to reveal what he has heard.

Leaving the gathering, the anger which the rebels have been at pains to provoke spills over, and there is a violent verbal confrontation between Thady and Ussher, which does not lead to physical violence only because Father John returns in time to quell it.

Chapter 14

There is some trimming here, not important, but again shortening the time we spend inside Father John's head; and also reducing some of the fine detail of the situation between Thady and Ussher:

As soon as he had finished his breakfast on the morning after the night's events just recorded, Father John took his hat and stick, and walked down to Drumsna, still charitably intent on finding some means to soften, if he could not avert, the storm which he saw must follow the scenes he had witnessed on the previous evening. He was quite sure that Ussher would not stay away from Ballycloran in consequence of what had occurred; he felt that, even supposing he was willing enough to do so, and to break with Feemy, the very fact of Thady's having warned him, as it were, off the premises, would induce him to be more there than ever, as Ussher would have considered it want of pluck to stay away because Thady had told him to do so...

The trimming of the section dealing with Feemy's situation I suspect was to keep the focus upon the necessity of separating her from Ussher, and conversely her determination that won't happen---so the prosaic details of why else she might not want to leave home were removed. However, this too removes some commentary on the character of Father John:

    Father John had already mentioned Mrs McKeon's name to her, in reference to her attachment to Ussher; and it was more than probable that if he now brought her an invitation from that lady, she would perceive that the object was to separate her from her lover, and that she would obstinately persist in remaining at Ballycloran. Then her father might object, or there might be other domestic reasons; her wardrobe might not be in a visiting state---and the funds to make it so might be deficient. Father John, however, felt himself to be no mean diplomatist; and he sallied forth, fully trusting that his mission would terminate successfully---desiring Judy his housemaid, should young Macdermot call in the interval, to be sure to use some means of retaining him till his return.
    As Father John was entering Drumsna...

This chapter does two things: it hints for the first real time that though the gossip about Feemy and Ussher might be wrong, she might indeed be desperate enough to hold him to be persuaded into running away with him; and it shows Father John misunderstanding the immediacy of the threat posed by thady's involvement with the ribbonmen. There is also a suggestion that in his efforts to help Thady, and the natural optimism of his nature, Father John may be erring too far on the side of caution:

For Thady's sake---to screen his character, and because he did not think there was any immediate danger---he had given the affair the turn which it had just taken; but he himself feared---more than feared---felt sure that there was too much truth in what the man had said. Thady's unusual intoxication last night---his brutal conduct to his sister---to Ussher, and to himself---the men with whom he had been drinking---his own knowledge of the feeling the young man entertained towards Keegan, and the hatred the tenants felt for the attorney---all these things conspired to convince Father John that McGovery had too surely overheard a conversation, which, if repeated to Keegan, might probably, considering how many had been present at it, give him a desperate hold over young Macdermot, which he would not fail to use, either by frightening him into measures destructive to the property, or by proceeding criminally against him. Father John was not only greatly grieved that such a meeting should have been held, with reference to its immediate consequences, but he was shocked that Thady should so far have forgotten himself and his duty as to have attended it. But with the unceasing charity which made the great beauty of Father John's character, he, in his heart, instantly made allowances for him...

Chapter 15

Mostly tweaking here, but one bit of cutting to Thady's ruminations upon the consequences of his drunken promise to join the ribbonmen:

    Then he thought of Ussher, and the scene which had passed between them last night; he knew he had been drunk, and had but a very confused recollection of what he had done or said. He remembered, however, that he had insulted Ussher; this did not annoy him; but he had a faint recollection of having committed his sister's name, by talking of her in his drunken brawl, and of having done, or said something, he knew not what, to Father John. It seemed as if in repulsing him as he had, he had broken the only link between himself and propriety; he had now, he thought, no friends to fall back upon---no one to rely on---no one to trust to---there was nothing left for him now but to join the murderous schemes of his late low companions, and drown his sorrow in the recollection of all those things he had loved in the excitement of their enterprises and the noise of their society.
    Though Thady had never known the refinements of a gentleman...

There is also another almost throwaway line - not cut - showing Trollope's sympathy with the hopeless position of the Irish farmers, with even good men like Mr McKeon exploiting their position:

He had a large farm on a profitable lease; he underlet a good deal of land by con-acre, or corn-acre;---few of my English readers will understand the complicated misery to the poorest of the Irish which this accursed word embraces...

The first half of this chapter deals with Father John persuading Mrs McKeon to invite Feemy to her house, either to force Ussher to a point, or to separate the two of them. That Mrs McKeon has heard the ugly gossip shows how pervasive it is.

The second half deals with Thady's mental state as he contemplates joining the ribbonmen in actuality: his awareness he is on a slippery slope on one hand, but his feeling of desperate isolation from his friends on the other. Above all, perhaps, we see his consciousness that he is putting himself in the hands of men who won't mhesitate to save themselves by betraying him:

Though Thady had never known the refinements of a gentleman, or the comforts of good society, still he felt that the fall, even from his present station to that in which he was going to place himself, would be dreadful. But it was not the privations which he might suffer, but the disgrace, the additional disgrace which he would bring on his family, which afflicted him. How could he now presume to prescribe to Feemy what her conduct should be, or to his father in what way he should act respecting the property? He already felt as though he was unworthy of either of them, and was afraid to look them in the face. After breakfast he wandered forth, striving to attend to his usual work, but the incentives to industry were all gone; he had no longer any hope that industry would be of service to him; he walked along the hedges and ditches, unconsciously planning in his mind the different ways of committing the crimes which he really so abhorred, but in which he was about to pledge himself to join. He thought, if it should be his lot to murder Keegan, how he would accomplish it. Should it be at night?---or in the day?---would he shoot him?---and if he did, would not the powder or the gun be traced home to him?---would not his footsteps in the bog be tracked and known?---if he struck him down on the road, would not the blood be found on his coat, or his shirt be torn in the struggle?---and, above all, would not his own comrades betray him?

Chapter 16 (Part 1)

Mostly just tweaking, plus a minor cut:

This was all said and done so pleasantly, that Feemy did not detect any other motive in her friend's civility than the one which was apparent, and after a little pressing, agreed to accept the invitation. She did not remember at the moment that the regular habits of Mrs McKeon's house would prevent her from enjoying the liberty to which she was accustomed, and the prospect of the races and the ball, and the change from the dullness of Ballycloran, seemed to promise nothing but pleasure and satisfaction. It was at last agreed that Mrs. McKeon was to call for her on the Monday following, when, if her father made no objection, she would accompany her home to Drumsna.

Another chapter of two halves. The first reveals Myles Ussher's professional promotion, which requires his transfer to Cashel in County Tipperary---and his imminent departure from Mohill.

One of the things I found most infuriating in reading around this novel was the tendency of commentators (male commentators, I am obliged to add) to excuse Ussher's treatment of Feemy. For example, in the introduction to the Trollope Society edition, Owen Dudley Edwards says:

"As for Ussher, the novel leaves little doubt that he would have been true to Feemy had she possessed more of the character of Thady..."

---a fine example of blaming the victim. Feemy is of course the product of her environment. She could not have had "more character" unless she had been raised under entirely different circumstances. And had she actually had "more character", far from being true to her, Ussher would have sheered off altogether---because then it would have been marriage or nothing.

As it is, the text makes it quite clear that, whatever he said to Feemy, Ussher never meant marriage:

All this was so far gratifying, but still he was perplexed to think what he should do about Feemy. It was true he could leave her, and let her, if she chose, break her heart; or he might promise to come back and marry her, when he was settled, with the intention of taking no further notice of her after he had left the place;---and so let her break her heart that way. But he was too fond of her for this; he could not decide what he would do; and when he came up to see her at the present time, the only conclusion to which he could bring himself with certainty was this---that nothing should induce him to marry her; but still he did not like to leave her...

This ugly scene finds Ussher trying to persuade Feemy to go away with him unmarried---under a promise to marry her later, of course, which he has no intention of keeping---of course. He tells lie after lie to Feemy to convince her that they cannot be married at once---first putting it on the grounds of the "insults" offered to him by Thady and Father John and then, when even Feemy won't swallow this, arguing instead that an immediate marriage would perhaps cost him his promotion.

After a desperate fight between her principles and her passion, Feemy agrees to go with him; recognising as she does that for all her anger and indignation for the warnings she has received, she is now agreeing to become exactly what they said of her:

    And by degrees he proposed to her to leave her home and her friends, and trust herself to him, and go off with him unmarried, without her father's blessing, or the priest's---to go with him in a manner which she knew would disgrace herself, her name, and her family, and to trust to him afterwards to give her what reparation a tardy marriage could afford. She, poor girl, at first received the offer with sobs and tears. She proposed a clandestine marriage, but he swore that when afterwards detected, it would cause his dismissal;—then that she would come to him at Cashel, when he was settled; but no,---he told her other lies equally false, to prove that this could not be done. She prayed and begged, and lay upon his bosom imploring him to spare her this utter degradation; but now that the proposal had been fairly made, that he had got her to discuss the plan, his usual sternness returned; and at last he told her, somewhat roughly, that if she would not come with him in the manner he proposed, he would leave her now and for ever.
    Poor Feemy fell with her knees on the ground and her face on the sofa, and there she lay sobbing for many minutes, while he again stood silent with his back against the fireplace. During this time, old feelings, principles, religious scruples, the love of honour and fair fame, and the fear of the world's harsh word, were sorely fighting in her bosom; they were striving to enable her to conquer the strong love she felt for Ussher, and make her reject the disgrace to which he was alluring her. Then he stooped to lift her up, and as he kissed the tears from her face, passion prevailed, and she whispered in his ear that she would go...

Chapter 16 (Part 2)

The second half of the chapter concerns Father John's attempt to pin Thady down about what actually happened during his drunken conversation at the wedding, and to persuade him to separate himself from the local Ribbonmen.

Thady is miserable and frightened by what he has done already, and though he has done little since but think about murdering Keegan (that the others want him to murder Ussher has still not sunken in), he has taken no oath---besides evading Pat Brady's attempt to force him to the meeting where the oath-taking is to occur. Father John is able to intervene, persuading him instead to swear on the Bible that he will not take that oath.

Father John, in turn, is so afraid that Thady has been the instigator - that he has been trying to encourage the others to violence against Keegan - that he too misses the point of the meeting: that Pat Brady and the others have been trying to make Thady their tool. He is so relieved when Thady denies this role that he overlooks the bigger, more dangerous picture:

    "If you'll not tell me why you were there, I'll tell you; at least, I'll tell you what my fears are. You went to them to talk over your father's affairs respecting Keegan and Flannelly; you went to induce those poor misguided men not to pay their rent to him; and oh! Thady, if what I've heard is true, you went there to consult with them respecting a greater crime than I'll now name, and to instigate them to do that which would lead to their and your eternal shame and punishment."
    Thady now shook in his chair, as though he could hardly keep his seat; he felt the perspiration stand upon his brow, and he wiped it off with his sleeve; he did not dare to deny that he had done this, of which Father John was accusing him, though he felt that he had been far from instigating them to any crime like murder. Father John continued:
    "If you have joined these men,---if you have bound yourself to these men by any oath,---if there is any league between you and them, let me implore you to disregard it; nothing can be binding, that is only to bind you to greater wickedness..."

NB: Major spoilers for the rest of the novel

**********

Chapters 15 and 16

The latter stages of the novel reveal Feemy pregnancy. It is only looking back that we realise that, in addition to persuading Feemy to run away with him, Ussher must have seduced her during this visit---demanding what she had already tacitly agreed to give him.

There is nothing overt in the text that allows for this specific reading at the time, only a couple of minor hints.

The main one is the length of Ussher's visit. Having gotten from Feemy her promise, surely he would want to get away from her, so that she has no chance to change her mind? But, we are told, it is two o'clock when Ussher calls upon her---and five o'clock when he leaves. What was going on in between?

The other hint is Trollope's use of language---the word "triumph" is twice associated with Ussher's mood, here in Chapter 16:

About five o'clock Ussher took his leave; she begged of him to come and see her the next day---every day till they went; but this he refused; she said that unless she saw him every day to comfort her, she would not be able to keep up her strength---that she was sure she would fall ill. It was now Friday, and she was to go to Mrs. McKeon's on Monday; on Tuesday he said he would call on her there; the races and ball were to be on the Tuesday week. In vain she asked him how she was to bear the long days till she saw him again; Ussher had no true sympathy for such feelings as were racking Feemy's heart and brain; he merely bid her keep up her spirits, and not be foolish;---that he would see her on Tuesday, and that after Tuesday week she would have nothing more to make her unhappy. And then, kissing her, he went away,---and as we have seen, Thady met him in the avenue, so satisfied in appearance, so contented, so triumphant, that he was able to forget the words which had been applied to him on the previous evening, and to nod to Feemy's brother with as pleasant an air as though there were no grounds for ill-feeling between them...

---and here, in Chapter 15, where the encounter with Thady is first mentioned:

Ussher had walked by quickly, and there was a look of satisfaction or rather gratified vanity in his face; he seemed, also, absorbed with the subject of his thoughts; Thady, however, as soon as he had passed, took but little notice of him...

"So satisfied, so contented, so triumphant"---that's a 19th century description of sex, right?

And, by the way---that's the brother of the girl he's just seduced who notices his "satisfaction" and "gratified vanity"---ewwww!!!!

The problem I have with this section of the novel, if we do interpret it this way, is that there is no difference in Feemy's attitude before and after her inferred seduction. Evidently in Trollope's mind, promising to become a man's mistress and actually doing it were effectively the same thing---the former no more emotionally, psychologically and/or morally weighted than the latter.

Chapter 17

Though Trollope does not give us one of his hunting scenes in this novel, there's a description of a steeplechase that serves the same purpose. This chapter describes the drunken and increasingly violent revels that proceed the race and (typically) is almost unaltered.

The only point relevant to the main narrative is when a drunken Ussher begins boasting of his plans to carry Feemy off, so that others are aware of the intended elopement and, indeed, involved in its planning:

Ussher was detailing in half drunken glee to his friend Fred Brown, George's brother, his plan for carrying off poor Feemy; and Brown, always as he said, ready to help a friend in necessity, was offering him the loan of his gig to take her as far as Longford, at which place he could arrive in time to catch the mail, if he could manage to take Feemy away from Ballycloran immediately after sunset. "And I'll send a boy to bring the gig back from Longford," added Fred, "so you'll have no trouble at all; and I'll tell you what it is, you're taking the prettiest girl out of County Leitrim with you---so here's her health."

Chapter 18 (Part 1)

Some tweaking, and some cutting here. In particular, with one passage, we understand why Trollope cuts it: at this point in his career he has a tendency to "tell, not show", which obviously bothered him later; however, his cutting does remove an important point regarding Feemy's state of mind, which needed to be made, though more subtly.

The vital detail here is that people avoid talking to Feemy about her situation---when any pressure at this point would probably have revealed how matters really stood between herself and Ussher.

The other important point is that for all his good intentions, Father John's judgement is often flawed and so contributes to the unfolding tragedy---in this case, by dissuading Mrs Keon's from speaking to Feemy:

Father John usually dined at Mrs. McKeon's on Sunday, and she came to the determination of having another talk with him about Feemy. After Ussher's visit, it had occurred to her that it was his coolness, and evident desire to break off the match that was making the poor girl miserable, and she thought that if this was so, it would only be a kindness on her part to tell Feemy that she should not give way to such a feeling; and she also determined, if she found she was correct in her surmise, to take care that her dear Tony should make Ussher understand that his absence was more required than his presence. She accordingly, before dinner on Sunday, opened her mind to Father John So before dinner on that day, she opened her mind to him, telling him the state in which Feemy had been the whole of the week, and that she thought the sooner she could be made to understand that she must give up all thoughts of Ussher, the better.

*****

    "If you'll take my advice, you'll just leave her to herself, take no especial notice of her, and let her go to this ball; and when she sees the man paying attention to others,---dancing and philandering with them, and neglecting her---her pride will make her feel that she must at any rate appear to be indifferent; and when she has once enabled herself to appear so, she will soon become really so. Just let her go to the races, and the ball; and your kindness and the girls' society will soon bring her round."
    This was Father John's prescription for curing a melancholy young lady; and Mrs McKeon. though she could not help wondering how a priest should know so much about young ladies, thought it was a good one, and determined to adopt it. And there was no doubt good sense in what he had said. Had he been correct as to the cause, to which he supposed Feemy's melancholy was attributable, the cure which he recommended would probably have been effective; but he was not, and his advice was consequently very unfortunate: for had Mrs McKeon spoken to Feemy, as she herself proposed, she would certainly have learnt the truth, for Feemy would not have had the strength to conceal it, even if she had the wish.
    All Monday Feemy spent in bed, but Mrs. McKeon and her girls took no notice of it, except carefully tending her—offering to read to her, and bring her what she wanted. They soon, however, found that she preferred being left alone; and they consequently allowed her to think over her own gloomy prospects in solitude and silence.

NB: Major spoilers for the rest of the novel

**********

Chapter 18

There's another tiny hint here of what has happened between Feemy and Ussher, in her general behaviour, but particularly in her failure to attend Mass:

The day after Ussher had obtained Feemy's consent to go off with him, she passed in the same manner as she had that afternoon---sometimes sitting quiet with her eyes fixed on vacancy---sometimes sobbing and crying, as though she must have fallen into an hysterical fit. Once or twice she attempted to make some slight preparation for her visit to Mrs McKeon's, such as looking through her clothes, mending them, &c., but in fact she did nothing. The next day, Sunday, she spent in the same manner; she omitted going to mass, a thing she had not done for years, unless kept at home by very bad weather, or real illness; she never took up a book, nor spoke a word, except such as she could not possibly avoid, to the servant or her father...

Chapter 18 (Part 2)

The second half of the chapter concerns the worsening situation at Ballycloran, with Keegan, after his violent altercation with Thady, now determined to call in the entire debt on Joe Flannelly's behalf---though really for his own benefit.

Meanwhile, Thady is harassed and even threatened by Pat Brady and Joe Reynolds over his refusal to take the oath that would bind him to the Ribbonmen. Some painful irony here, as Thady's efforts to do the right thing make his situation even worse---much worse than he immediately realises.

And while Joe Reynolds is more overtly threatening, the reader recognises Pat Brady as the real danger---with Trollope offering a very early instance of a now-common colloquial term of abuse:

    On the Saturday morning, Pat Brady had again come to his master, informing him that all the boys were to be on that evening at the whiskey shop, and using all his powers of oratory to induce him to come down; but Thady was firm, and he not only refused to come then, but plainly told Pat that he had entirely altered his mind, and that he did not intend to go down to them at all. He advised Pat also to give them up, hinting that if he did not, they two, viz., Pat Brady and Thady Macdermot, would probably soon have to part company.
    This was a threat, however, for which Pat did not much care; for he knew that there was little more to be made by his old master; and, like a wise man, he had already provided himself with a new one, and a more prosperous and wealthy one than him he was going to leave. Rats always leave a falling house, and Brady was a real rat.

Chapter 19 (Part 1)

This chapter deals predominantly with a description of the Carrick races; and, like the earlier wedding of Mary Brady and Denis McGovery, gives the impression that Trollope is describing something he had seen for himself.

This interlude is a forerunner of one of Trollope's later hunting scenes and is difficult for the reader for the same reason, that is, the treatment of the horses.

The other importance of the first section of the chapter is its various remarks regarding Jonas Brown's conduct as a landlord. Here, in an almost throwaway manner, Trollope highlights some more of the miseries suffered by Irish tenants, under such landlords:

The establishment at Brown Hall consisted of Jonas Brown, the father---an irritable, overbearing magistrate, a greedy landlord, and an unprincipled father...

For the estate, which was all set at a rack rent, was strictly entailed; and as Jonas had always lived beyond his income, there would be little to leave to a younger son...

On the morning of the races the two brothers and Ussher were sitting over a very late breakfast at Brown Hall. The father had long since been out; careful to see that he got the full twelve hours' work from the unfortunate men whom he hired at five pence a day, and who had out of that to feed themselves and families, and pay their rent; we will not talk about clothing them, it would be a mockery to call the rags with which the labouring poor in that part of the country are partially covered, clothes...

Though the term "rack rent" was often used merely to mean "extortionate" ("rack", as in a form of torture), more correctly it meant a system in which potential tenants were forced to bid against each other for leases, and invariably ended up agreeing to pay more rent than the land was worth, or they afford.

The widespread existence of this system is implied in the title that Maria Edgeworth chose for her first Irish novel, Castle Rackrent.

Chapter 19 (Part 2)

At the ball following the races, Ussher and Feemy meet to finalise their arrangements for leaving together.

Poor Feemy's dire situation is made very clear: Ussher regrets having persuaded her to run away with him, and is only going through with it because he's already bragged to his friends, Fred and George Brown, about it:

    "I believe Ussher thinks," said George, "no one ran away with a girl before himself. Why if you were going to seize a dozen stills, you couldn't make more row about it."
    "I shouldn't make any about that, for it would come natural to me; and I'd a deal sooner be doing that, than what I have to do to-morrow night. I'm d----d, but I'd sooner take a score of frieze-coats, with only five or six of my own men to back me, than drive twenty miles in a gig with a squalling girl."

    And Ussher went round to the side of the car where Feemy was sitting, and shook hands with her and the other girls. It was the first time through the whole long morning he had come near her; indeed, it was the first time he had seen her since his short visit at Mrs. McKeon's, and very cruel poor Feemy had thought such conduct. Yet now, when he merely came to speak a few words, it was a relief to her, and she took it actually for a kindness. She felt herself so fallen in the world---so utterly degraded---she was so sure that soon every one else would shun her, that she shuddered at the idea of his ill-treating or deserting her...
    As for Ussher himself, he would now have been glad if he had been able to have got rid of Feemy altogether... He was considerably bothered, however, by his position; he felt that she would be a dreadful chain round his neck at the place he was going to, and he began already to dislike her. Poor Feemy! she had already lost that for which she had agreed to sacrifice her pride, her family, her happiness, and herself.

NB: Major spoilers for the rest of the novel

**********

Chapter 19

There are a couple more hints here about what has happened:

The lines quoted above, about Ussher's growing dislike of Feemy, are punctuated with the reflection that---

He had told his sporting friends of his intention, and if even he could have brought himself to endure their ridicule by leaving her behind him, he had gone so far that he could not well break off with Feemy herself.

Likewise, when Feemy is receiving Ussher's instructions about where they are to meet, and has her understandable questions about what she should do about her clothes and personal items treated with brusque impatience---

Feemy could not but think that a week since he would not have asked her to carry all her travelling wardrobe in a bundle, in her hand.

What happened during the last week?

Liz--just wanted to say that I am following along with your comments, and very much appreciating them. However, knowing how the whole thing comes out at the end, I haven't had the heart to re-read with you. On the other hand, it was a relief to read a Trollope without a horse-race.

>32 lyzard: thanks for that reminder of "Rackrent"--I had completely forgotten!

And as you point out in many of your comments, Trollope shows real understanding of the fate of the Irish people; I wonder if he predicted the disaster that the famine would become...

Thanks for checking in again, Kathy - I appreciate your company, and I don't blame you at all for not feeling up to a re-read. :)

Much of the historical importance of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran is that it offers a portrait of Ireland before the famine. Trollope makes it very clear in his text how very difficult life was for the country people even before the famine, and how completely dependent the Irish people at all levels of society were upon their "praties", so we with hindsight can see the terrible magnitude of the looming tragedy.

Chapter 20

This important chapter is almost untouched.

Feemy and Ussher's elopement goes wrong, first when he is delayed in getting away from Mohill, then when Thady chooses this night of all nights to smoke a pipe on the front steps.

Feemy, bitterly regretting her elopement, half frozen after her long wait and almost paralysed with terror at the prospect of being caught by her brother, cannot respond when Ussher comes for her. Indeed she faints, so that Ussher ends up almost dragging her to his gig.

Thady, meanwhile, who has heard the gig, now recognises Ussher's voice---and, as he supposes, sees the Captain forcibly abducting Feemy---

    By degrees, as he got nearer, he perceived it was a woman's form that the man was half dragging, half carrying, and then he heard Ussher's voice say loudly, and somewhat angrily, "This is d----d nonsense, Feemy! you know you must come now."
    These were the last words he ever uttered. Thady was soon close to him, and with the heavy stick he always carried in his hand, he struck him violently upon the head. Ussher, when he had heard the footsteps immediately behind him, dropped Feemy, who was still insensible, upon the path; but he could not do so quick enough to prevent the stunning blow which brought him on his knees. His hat partially saved him, and he was on the point of rising, when Thady again struck him with all his power; this time the heavy bludgeon came down on his bare temple, and the young man fell, never to rise again. He neither moved nor groaned; the force of the blow, and the great weight of the stick falling on his uncovered head as he was rising, had shattered his brains, and he lay as dead as though he had been struck down by a thunder-bolt from heaven.
    Though it was so dark that Thady could not see the blood he had shed, or watch how immovable was the body of the man he had attacked, still he knew that Ussher was no more. He had felt the skull give way beneath the stroke; he had heard the body fall heavily on the earth, and he was sure his enemy was dead...

Of course, as we see, at this point Thady has a plea of justification on his side; but in his desperation for help and guidance, he falls into the worst possible hands, those of Pat Brady, who encourages him to run rather than turn himself in...

Chapter 21

Oh, Thady!---

Thoughts as to his own safety crowded on his mind; he felt that if he intended boldly to justify the deed, he should himself declare what he had done---see that the body was properly taken care of---and give himself up at once to the police. As to the fact of his having killed the man, that he had declared to his sister before he had at all thought what his conduct ought to be, and he had done the same to Brady; it was useless for him therefore to attempt to conceal it, even if he had wished to do so. But he felt afraid to give himself up to the police; he abhorred the idea of what he thought would be the disgrace of being in confinement; and instead of going, as he at first thought to have done, at once to Father John, and telling him all that had happened, he listened to Brady's traitorous advice...

Though the chapter begins with Thady's escape, most of it is focused upon the spreading of the news of Ussher's death, and the inquest which sees a verdict of wilful murder brought in against Thady---mostly because of the nature of the little testimony given by the increasingly hysterical Feemy: the nature of which is foreshadowed by her spurning of Thady when he tries to justify himself to her. Feemy's subsequent collapse and serious ongoing illness, which prevents her ever given a coherent account of her attempted elopement and Ussher's death, is a significant factor in the outcome of the plot.

(Trollope's handling of Feemy is something I want to address at the end.)

There is some cutting here.

In the first place, Trollope removes some of the passages dealing with the crumbling of Larry Macdermot's mind, in the wake of this tragedy; presumably simply to lessen the unpleasantness:

    It was a most melancholy sight---that poor, weak old man, whom so many of those now present had known so long, and who so very few years before had been in the full strength of manhood and health, for even now he was hardly more than fifty. Few either had known how much his sense had been failing latterly; he had lived retired and out of the world, and his neighbours had ceased to think about him; but now, when they saw him once more amongst them, and under such circumstances, and in such a state, they could not but deeply pity his misery and his infirmity.
    Those who were nearest to him spoke kindly and good-humouredly to him, and he appeared quite pleased with their intentions---evidently it was a gala morning to him. The Coroner requested those around him to withdraw him, but as he was going out, he caught Keegan's eye, he being one of the jury, and began making mouths and grimaces at him, and when he was in the open air, he told those around him that he had known he should get the better of that "miserly main owld ruffian Flannelly, and the d----d attorney, who married his daughter and that was what they got for trying to make him pay away his money before it was due---that he knew the law as well as any of them, and that was what they got by bringing him there before November had come round---and that now he wouldn't have to pay them another farthing---the d----d main rascally blackguards." All this he said in a loud voice, in the middle of the street, and the greater the crowd that collected to hear him, the louder he spoke, and the oftener he repeated it; at length those who had him in their care succeeded in enticing him back to the car, and he was taken back to Ballycloran, doomed to spend the rest of his life as a poor weak drivelling idiot, with not sufficient gleams of sense to regulate even the trifling actions of his future unimportant life.
    But sad as this was, the examination of Feemy was even worse...

The end of the chapter is also cut, most likely to avoid a sense of anticlimax after the painful scene of Feemy's muttered, incomplete testimony and the verdict being brought in against Thady.

However, these passages are quite important in themselves, for showing how a well-balanced outsider and thoroughly good woman like Mrs McKeon views Feemy's situation. Of course, she doesn't know the whole truth---and nor does she (or anyone else) know that Ussher was carrying Feemy bodily, after she fainted, when Thady came upon them and believed Feemy was being taken against her will:

    ...the coroner gave the jury the substance of the evidence on the case. He pointed out to them that though there could be no doubt that young Macdermot was the man by whom Captain Ussher had been killed, still if they thought there was sufficient ground for them to believe that Ussher was ill-treating his sister, and that the brother had interfered on her behalf, they should not come to the decision that murder had been committed.
    The jury, after consulting for a short time, brought in a verdict of wilful murder against Thaddeus Macdermot; and, accordingly, a coroner's warrant was issued for his apprehension and trial, and was handed over to the police, that they might lose no time in endeavouring to take him prisoner. In the meantime, Feemy had been taken home to Mrs McKeon's, had had been put to bed, and before long was declared to be suffering from a violent fever. Mrs McKeon was greatly horrified when she first heard in the inquest room that Feemy was absolutely in the act of going off clandestinely with her lover at the time when the tragical occurrence had taken place, and for the moment she repented of having come forward now as her friend and protectress. But, after all, had not many girls before eloped from their homes with their lovers, and made very good wives and mothers afterwards? and why should more blame be attached to Feemy Macdermot than to others who had done the same, merely because the consequences had been so disastrous? At any rate the present was not the time to leave her, when her distress was the greatest---when her sorrows were the acutest---when, moreover, her shattered nerves and health required care and nursing; and Mrs McKeon, without a second feeling of regret for her good nature, took her home to Drumsna, prepared to act the part of her friend and guardian through the miserable months which she foresaw must interfere before this and the trial.

Chapter 22

Terrified by his actions and their likely consequences, a panicked Thady cannot bring himself to believe that anyone will believe his plea of justification---and so takes the worst possible step by turning for help to the very men he had promised to avoid, and whose plans to murder Ussher he had himself warned Ussher about.

There's some cutting here, major and minor, the former emphasising the dark irony of Thady's situation, and the weakness of character that will inevitably drag him down:

A few moments since he had been longing for these two men who now stood before him, as the only persons on whom he could depend for security and concealment, and now that they were there he almost wished them back again, so difficult did he find it to tell them what he had to say, and to beg of them the assistance he required. It was not a week since he had absolutely repulsed Joe Reynolds---repulsed him with anger and disdain, and had even hinted at having him taken before the magistrates for threatening the death of that man, whom he had now himself killed---and whose death sent him there as a petitionerto the kindness of his own tenants and dependants; however, it was absolutely necessary that he should immediately give them some reason for being there; and as they came forward from the fireplace he rose from his stool to speak to them.

This bit may have been cut for its suggestion that Thady didn't care that Ussher was dead, only that he was responsible:

"Did you hear the news about Ussher?" continued Joe without moving, and in a whisper which the old woman could not hear. "That blackguard Ussher has escaped out of the counthry afther all, without paying any of us the debt that he owed us, for all the evils he's done. He went away out of Mohill this night, an' he's not to be back agin; av I'd known it afore he started I'd have stopped him in the road, an' by G-d he should niver have got alive out of the barony." How fervently Thady wished that the desperate man who was speaking to him had had the opportunity he desired so much, of wreaking vengeance upon his enemy, and that Ussher's blood had been upon his hands, instead of his own.

And one minor bit of censorship:

Revised:
"Asy boys, now," said Corney; "we're all right when we're here; an', by the powers! I'm hot," and the man began wiping his brow with his sleeve.

Original:
"Asy boys, now," said Corney; "we're all right when we're here; an', by Jasus! I'm hot," and the man began wiping his brow with his sleeve.

This chapter again emphasises, with chilling casualness, the bitter poverty of the country-people---and in context more importantly, the devastating consequences to some innocent bystanders of Ussher's attention to duty.

When Thady goes looking for Joe Reynolds, he waits for him in the cottage of the mother of the men arrested by Ussher at the beginning of the novel. Joe and Corney Dolan reflect on her situation:

    "Corney, what's the owld hag doing since her two sons is in gaol along with Tim?"
    "Ah! thin, she's doing badly enough; she war niver from her bed since. Faix, Joe, they'll niver be out in time to bury her."
    "Is it starving she is?"
    "Well thin, I b'lieve that's the worst of it; that an' the agny, an' no one to mind her at all, is enough to kill an owld woman like her."
    "Niver mind," replied Joe, "it will be a comfort to her any way to hear that Ussher's gone before her; not but what they'll go to different places, though." And then, after a time, he added, "Ussher's black soul has gone its long journey this night with more curses on it than there are stones on these shingles..."

Chapter 23

In which Thady resolves to give himself up---but not, we note, because he thinks it's the right thing to do, but because the alternative seems to him even worse:

Oh heavens! what should he do? Should he sit there from day to day, when every hour seemed like an age of misery, waiting till he should be dragged out like a badger from its hole. He looked towards the village, and to different bits of road which his eye could reach, thinking that he should see the dark uniform of a policeman; but no, nothing ever was stirring---it seemed as if nothing ever stirred---as if nothing had life by day, in that lifeless, desolate spot. At length he thought to himself that he would bear it no longer; that he would not remain for a short time indebted for his food to such a man as Dan Kennedy, and then at length be taken away to the fate which he knew awaited him, and be dragged along the roads by a policeman, with handcuffs on his wrists---a show, to be gaped at by the country! No; he would return at once, and give himself up; he would boldly go to the magistrates at Carrick---declare that he had done the deed, and under what provocation he had done it, and then let them do the worst they chose with him.

But as usual with Thady, his second, better thoughts come too late: he has already kept to his original promise to join the Ribbonmen, despite his own reluctance and his later promise to Father John that he would not do so:

    Abraham then proceeded to administer the oath to him. By this he bound himself, first of all, never to divulge to any one, particularly not to any magistrate or policeman, or in any court of law, anything that should be done or said in that place where he now was, that might be prejudicial to any of the party. Secondly, to give all aid and assistance in his power to all those now present, and to any which might be in possession of a certain pass-word, and who might be able to answer certain questions with the fit and appointed answers, and to help in the escape or concealment of any such, when they might be either in confinement, or in dread of being arrested. And thirdly, that he would aid and assist in all schemes of vengeance and punishment which would be entered into by those with whom he was now bound, against any who attempted to molest them, but especially against all Revenue officers and their men.
    To all these conditions Thady bound himself, and as he finished repeating each article after Abraham, he kissed the dirty prayer-book which that man presented to him...

There is some tweaking in this chapter, mostly for the purposes of improving the grammar; and also a minor bit of censorship:

Revised:
"All's right," said Dan; "and I'm glad to see you here, my lad of wax, seeing what sent you..."

Original:
"All's right," said Dan; "and I'm damnation glad to see you here, my lad of wax, seeing what sent you..."

Chapter 24

In which Thady turns himself in, and is jailed awaiting trial:

    "Ah! my poor boy," said Father John, "that's what I have to blame you for. What made you fly there? what made you fly anywhere? why did you not with an honest face at once place yourself in the hands of the police, from whom you must know you couldn't have remained concealed?"
    "Oh, Father John, av you could feel all I felt when I first knew the man was dead—when my own sisther spurned me---and when my father told me I was a murdherer, you wouldn't wonder at my flying, av it were only for an hour."

Trollope gives us a split-view of Thady's situation here, first Father John's sympathetic and generous opinion of Thady's actions, in light of his belief that Ussher was abducting Feemy, and emphasising that, under the circumstances, his actions could not have been premeditated; but also the conflicting interpretation of the jury that brought in a verdict of murder against Thady at the inquest.

Thady also learns at this point of the disastrous consequences of his actions at Ballycloran

Only some tweaking here, and a minor cut:

When Father John was kindly petitioning with the Governor to allow the prisoner a light in his cell, he said, "What matters? a light won't make the time pass over quicker; so night and darkness now I've only to long that the hours may pass away, and that an end may come at last to this dreadful suspense."

NB: Major spoilers for the rest of the novel

**********

Chapter 24

Trollope makes a point - though with his emphasis on Thady's situation - of telling us exactly how far along in her pregnancy Feemy will be when Thady comes to trial:

The next assizes would not take place till April, six months after the present time...

Chapter 25 (Part 1)

This chapter is an important one, describing events in the district while Thady is awaiting trial and the mindsets of those who will ultimately determine his fate.

Here Keegan - still insisting that he is only acting on behalf of Mr Flannelly - begins in earnest to seize Ballycloran, turning out any tenants who cannot pay the entirety of their rent, and doing his best to starve out the stubborn Larry.

We hear in particular of the varying standpoints of the three magistrates: Counsellor Webb, who believes in Thady's justification; Jonas Brown, who is determined to hang him; and Sir Michael Gibson, who never has a firm opinion about anything.

Even as Thady himself has damaged his own chances by associating with Joe Reynolds and the other Ribbonmen, the Ribbonmen themselves - falsely believing that they are acting on Thady's behalf - carry out a horrifying attack upon Keegan, who is not killed but left mutilated. They also terrorise Ussher's successor and his local spy. All this gives the impression that the entire district is "lawless", and increases the likelihood of Thady being made an example of.

Meanwhile, Trollope ties his general presentations of the three magistrates to their behaviour as landlords---again describing the misery that could be inflicted upon the poor by landowners whose only interest was their rents.

Thus of Sir Michael:

He was neither a bad nor a good landlord---that is to say, his land was seldom let for more than double its value; and his agent did not eject his tenants as long as they contrived not to increase the arrears which they owed when he undertook the management of the property; but Sir Michael himself neither looked after their welfare, or took the slightest care to see that they were comfortable.

While Jonas Brown:

He was a stern, hard, cruel man, with no sympathy for any one, and was actuated by the most superlative contempt for the poor, from whom he drew his whole income. He was a clever, clear-headed, avaricious man; and he knew that the only means of keeping the peasantry in their present utterly helpless and dependent state, was to deny them education, and to oppose every scheme for their improvement and welfare. He dreaded every movement which tended to teach them anything, and when he heard of landlords reducing their rents, improving cabins, and building schools, he would prophesy to his neighbour, Sir Michael, that the gentry would soon begin to repent of their folly, when the rents they had reduced were not paid, the cabins which they had made comfortable were filled with ribbonmen, and when the poor had learnt in the schools to disobey their masters and landlords.

Whereas Mr Webb:

He was, moreover, a kind-hearted landlord---ever anxious to ameliorate the condition of the poor---and by no means greedy after money, though he was neither very opulent nor very economical.

However, he also makes the point that Webb's desire to be popular too often leads him into doing wrong.

Chapter 25 (Part 2)

The other vital aspect of this chapter is Mrs McKeon's growing fear that Feemy is pregnant.

We learn that Feemy has barely left her room since the inquest; that she has taken to her bed as generally "ill"; and that she avoids company whenever possible. So it is March before Mrs McKeon's observations make her fear the worst.

After consulting with the doctor, Mrs McKeon steels herself to question Feemy---who categorically denies the accusation.

It is interesting to note Trollope's language around this subplot, which (since he did not cut it) gives us some interesting insight into what was allowable at the time ("the time" in this case meaning the years 1843 - 1860):

Things went on in this way till about the middle of March. Feemy constantly requested to be allowed to go home, which request was as constantly refused; when different circumstances acting together gave rise to a dreadful suspicion in Mrs McKeon's mind. She began to fear that Ussher, before his death, had accomplished the poor girl's ruin, and that she was now in the family way. For some few days she was determined to reject the idea, and endeavoured to make herself believe that she was mistaken; but the more close her observations were, the more certain she became that her suspicions were well founded. She was much distressed as to what she should do. Her first and most natural feelings were those of anger against Feemy, and of dismay at the situation into which her own and her husband's good nature had brought herself and her daughters; and she made up her mind that Feemy should at once have her wish and return to Ballycloran. But then, she might be mistaken---or even, if it were too true---how could she turn the poor girl, weak, ill, and miserable, out of her house, and send her to an empty unprovided barrack, inhabited by an infirm, idiotical old man, where she could receive none of that attention which her situation so much required?

Chapter 25 (Part 3)

Despite its general importance, this chapter was subject to "Duke's Children-level" cutting!

(Speaking of which, we see in The Macdermots Of Ballycloran Trollope doing exactly what he did with respect to the later novel, i.e. he frequently shortened his text by cutting the closing ruminations of a chapter.)

Another important subplot deals with the shifting situation of Pat Brady who, in the wake of the Mcdermots' various misfortunes, begins to ally himself more openly with Keegan, as the latter tries to take over Ballycloran. Pat's former cronies begin to shun him, so that he is unaware of the plot against Keegan, and wrongly advises him as to his own safety:

Pat, however, knew but little of what was going on amongst them now. Although they found no absolute fault with the arguments which he used for acting on Mr Keegan's behalf, still he soon discovered that the tenants had withdrawn their confidence from him, and that they looked upon him rather as the servant of their new tyrant, than as the friend to whom they had been accustomed to turn, when they wanted any little favour from their old master. He had moreover discontinued his visits to Mrs Mulready's, and had for a long time seen nothing of Joe Reynolds and his set, who spent most of their time in Aughacashel, or at any rate away from Drumleesh. Pat therefore really knew but little of the feelings to which Mr Keegan's measures had given rise, and consequently managed to deceive his master very effectually.

We then hear about the reprisals taken by the Ribbonmen upon Ussher's successor and his spy. The former is only threatened, but somehow the men find out the identity of the latter, with terrifying consequences (though it could have been even worse). Perhaps Trollope was afraid that too much violence would make readers agree with Jonas Brown?---

A man named Cogan, who had acted very successfully as a spy to Ussher, also offered his services to the new officer, by whom they were accepted. This man had learnt that potheen was being made at Aughacashel, and, dressed in the uniform of one of the Revenue police, had led the men to Dan Kennedy's cabin. Here they merely found Abraham, the cripple, harmlessly employed in superintending the boiling of some lumpers, and Andy McEvoy in the other cabin, sitting on his bed; not a drop of potheen---not a grain of malt---not a utensil used in distillation was found, and they had to return foiled and beaten. By what means Dan and Joe had discovered that a visit was premeditated, was not known; but it was plain that the source from which they found out had also taught them who the informer was. Cogan had been afraid to return home, but on the night succeeding the futile visit to Aughacashel, his cabin was burnt to the ground, and his wife and children barely had time to escape with their lives.

There is a significant amount of cutting around the effects of the violence upon Thady's situation and Keegan's mindset, and the emergence of Pat Brady as the most likely "witness for the prosecution". Possibly Trollope thought he was giving too much away at this point:

    These things all operated much against the chance of Thady's acquittal, and his warmest friends could not but feel that they did so. People in the country began to say that some severe example was necessary---that the country was in a dreadful state---and that the government must be upheld; and these fears became ten times greater, when it was generally known that Thady, a day or two before the catastrophe, had absolutely associated with some of the most desperate characters in the country, and when it was whispered about that proof would come out at the trial that the prisoner had been one of a party who had together sworn to murder Ussher before he left the country, and that this would be proved on the oath of the men who had been present on the occasion.
    This was all attributable to Keegan's diligence; he had declared, as soon after his mutilation as he was able to declare anything, that Thady should not escape the punishment of murderer; and he used every effort in his power to accomplish his purpose. He had learnt from Brady that he had been present at a meeting at Mrs Mehan's between Thady, Joe Reynolds and some others, and had at last got from him, that at that time threats had been pronounced against Ussher, to which Thady had at any rate listened; and that he had agreed to go down on a future occasion to Mrs Mulready's to settle various matters, and take certain oaths, and that the principal matter there to be discussed was to be Ussher's fate.
    Brady, at first, had been unwilling to divulge all that he knew to Mr Keegan; for, though he felt no hesitation in betraying his old master, he was not desirous to hang him; but Keegan, by degrees, got it all out of him, and bribed so high that Pat, at last, consented to come forward at the trial...

Of course all this is crushing news for the people working to prove that the killing of Ussher was unpremeditated and justified:

All this was sad news for Father John, and his friend McKeon, but still they would not despair---as long as there was life there was hope, and the strong conviction which they both had that Thady was in fact not guilty, made them think that when all the circumstances of the case were fairly brought out, any jury would not fail of looking at it in the same light as themselves. They talked the matter over and over again in Mr McKeon's parlour...

Some detail as to the nature of the feud between Counsellor Webb and Jonas Brown - and the lengths to which the former will go both to thwart his enemy, and win popularity - were cut:

He was, in the first place, by far too fond of popularity, and of being the favourite among the peasantry; and, in the next, he had become so habituated to oppose Jonas Brown in all his sayings and doings, that he now did so whether he was right or wrong. If a lad were brought before the three, for a row at a fair, Jonas would send him to the treadmill---the Counsellor would send him about his business---and Sir Michael was thus left in the disagreeable predicament of not knowing what to do with him. Jonas Brown would have the whole country in prison---Counsellor Webb would have thrown open the prison doors---and Sir Michael would have alternately done both. Jonas Brown abused the poor---Counsellor Webb flattered them---and Sir Michael, between the two, at last learnt that the only place for him was to hold his tongue.

In Thady's service, Mr Webb tries to persuade Sir Michael to put himself in his, Thady's, shoes (possibly this was cut as too facetious, under the circumstances):

Sir Michael was much distressed in making up his mind finally on the subject. It was reported, however, soon after the meeting above alluded to, that he had stated to some of his more immediate friends and admirers, that "he considered it highly discreditable, he might say disgraceful, for any of the more respectable classes to give any countenance to the illegal meetings, which he was afraid were too general through the country, and that there was too much reason to fear that the unfortunate man in prison had been guilty in doing so; but that there could be no doubt that every one was justified---he might add, only performed his bounden duty---in protecting the females of his family from injury or violence." Counsellor Webb's allusion to the bare possibility of a captain in a marching regiment, marching off with one of his own flaxen-haired daughters and her thousands of pounds, quite opened his eyes to the latter truth---and if Sir Michael had any feeling, one way or the other, it was rather in Thady's favour.

Tony McKeon becomes Mr Webb's main ally in the fight for Thady, although more for emotional and personal reasons than anything to do with justice:

    The consequence was, that the Counsellor was a man after Tony's own heart. Though they were of different religions, they had, generally speaking, the same political feelings and opinions---the same philanthropical principles---and the same popular prejudices; and after a few years intimacy in each other's neighbourhood, Mr Webb well knew where to find a powerful recruit for any service in which he might wish to enlist one. When, therefore, McKeon heard that Jonas Brown had declared that he wished Thady might be hung, and when he also heard from his friend that he was most anxious to do all in his power to save him, he had two strong additional reasons for exercising all his energies on Macdermot's behalf. Tony could not probably be fairly considered as a man peculiarly amenable to reason---but he was thoroughly open to the influence of impulse---and consequently having once taken the Macdermots by the hand, he fought the battle of all the family, as though they had been the oldest and most valued friends he had.
    HeTony declared that if any one spoke ill of Feemy's character, he should make it personal with himself; that he was ready, willing, and moreover determined to quarrel with any one who dared to apply the opprobrious name of murderer to Thady; and he had even been heard, on one or two occasions, to stand up for Larry himself, and to declare that although he might be a little light-headed or so, he was still a deal better than those muddy-minded blackguards at Carrick who had driven him to his present state.

The chapter then switches focus to Feemy; Trollope removes both some emphasis on the passing of time, and of Feemy's behaviour. Perhaps he thought he was being too explicit (a point I want to return to a bit later):

    Such was the state of affairs with regard to Thady about the beginning of March. For a long time Feemy had been very ill, but... At this time Feemy was still very far from well. She had never left her room since the day that Mrs McKeon had brought her home from Carrick. For a long time she had remained in bed, almost without speaking---eating but very little---falling from one low fever into another---continually sobbing like a child, frequently hysterical---and sometimes almost delirious. the doctor, however, had assured Mrs McKeon that she was not dangerously ill, and that though she had doubtless received a great shock, she would probably, in time, recover from its effects.
    After Christmas she had apparently got a little stronger; she would sit up in her bed-room for a few hours in the day; but still she would talk to no one...

Some of Mrs McKeon's hesitation over how to proceed in the wake of Feemy's firm denial of her pregnancy were cut:

Feemy's denial of the charge against her was so firm, and so positively made, that it very much shook her friend's suspicions. When Feemy begged to be sent home, she told her not to agitate herself at present---that they would all see how she was in a day or two---and then speaking a few kind words to her, left her to herself. Mrs McKeon first thought of telling her husband exactly what had passed, and asking him what he thought she ought to do in the case; but then it occurred to her that if her fears were unfounded, and Feemy's protestations true, it would be unkind of her to give rise to so injurious a report even by mentioning it to her husband, and she determined for a time to say nothing further on the subject.

DELETED CHAPTERS

After significantly cutting his preceding chapter, Trollope subsequently deleted the next two (!!).

And no, I'm not going to transcribe them! As discussed up above, the wholly deleted chapters are usually included as an appendix to most modern editions of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran which otherwise use the 1860 text.

What I will do, however, is provide a summary of events:

In the original Chapter 26, we hear about how Thady's fast-approaching trial is to be conducted. Thady's supporters have decided to secure the services of the barrister, Mr O'Malley, but have learned from Counsellor Webb that it will be necessary to first convince him of Thady's innocence. Consequently, Father John volunteers to travel to Dublin, to see O'Malley himself and lay the circumstances of the case before him. We learn here that Mr Webb, Tony McKeon and Father John are paying for Thady's defence, as Larry Macdermot cannot (and in fact doesn't know / understand what is happening). However, to keep his part of the pledge, Father John will have to borrow money from his brother, a successful merchant. We follow him on his rough and uncomfortable journey to Dublin.

In Chapter 27, we see Father John interacting with his family: his brother Tom and his sister-in-law, and their numerous young children; and then meeting with Mr O'Malley, the barrister. Though he secures the services of the latter, he is also forced to face the fact that Thady is in a great deal more danger than he has as yet allowed himself to believe: O'Malley's unemotional rendering of the situation in terms of law and evidence terrifies Father John. The importance of Feemy's account of the confrontation between Thady and Ussher is emphasised.

********************

There are a number of reasons why Trollope may have cut these chapters; probably no one reason was responsible.

I suspect, however, that the main reason is that they are so focused upon Father John. (The third deleted chapter is also focused upon him.) Positive portraits of Catholic priests were not (to say the least) common in English novels of the time, and Trollope may have felt, after the event, that he had gone too far in this respect, or simply that English readers wouldn't like it.

Alternatively, he may have considered that this Dublin interlude took his narrative too far away from Thady and his situation, and for too long.

In addition, there are various passages that may, with hindsight, have rendered these chapters questionable. At one point, Trollope ruminates upon the nature of Catholicism in Ireland---but not in the hostile spirit that was standard in English novels, but with surprising tolerance. The criticism of English attitudes and conduct is also startling:

    In Europe there is no country where the religion of Rome is so sincerely trusted to and acted on as in Ireland... Rarely in these countries one finds men of education believing in, submitting to, and guided by the religion which they profess, and allowing that by that only can they regulate their conduct in this world, and hope to meet salvation in the next.
    Such is the case though in Ireland... I have met no Romanist Irishman who would express the remotest doubt as to any portion of the doctrines of the creed of his church---miraculous and difficult to believe as they are---and it is this unshaken belief---this firm sincerity of trust which has kept Ireland so faithful to her church, through all the frightful means which have been taken to convert her.

...

Less seriously, there is also a conversation between Mr and Mrs Macgrath about the regular arrival of their children which may have crossed the line (in fact, there is a point related to this which I want to return to later):

    "...and that you know would be very serious with a baby coming every year."
    "Now Mr Mag," for by this tender appellative did Mrs Macgrath always address her husband. "Now, Mr Mag, how can you say any such scandal---wasn't Minney fourteen months when baby was born---and isn't Jack the full thirteen months older than Minney---and I'm sure baby'll be above the year, when the next comes---that's if I'm right---and I believe you'll own I'm seldom much out in my calculations."

...

    "Do without them indeed, Mr Mag---a precious father of a family you'd be without any children."
    "That's thrue, my dear," answered the butter-man, "but enough's as good as a feast, they say."
    "Well, Mr Mag, and whose fault is it if you've got too many, I'd like to know, if not your own?"
    "Faith, then, Sarah, I can't say, unless it's yours."

...

From a Trollopean point of view, there is much to be lamented in the loss of these chapters, as they foreshadow some important and famous passages in his later novels.

Most obviously, the journey of the unworldly Father John to Dublin, and his meeting there with a hard-headed attorney, is very clearly a dry run for the still more unworldly Septimus Harding's journey to London to meet with Sir Abraham Haphazard, in The Warden. This is an altogether more serious rendering of such a situation, however; though Trollope still has some fun with Father John's sufferings in the overcrowded public carriage that is all he can afford. The contemporary descriptions of Dublin are also very valuable.

Meanwhile, we also lose Trollope's tribute to a fellow-author, who likewise tried to fight the Irish cause in novels written for the English:

They now reached Edgeworth's town, and the guard pointed out to the Englishman the residence of the authoress of whom Ireland may well be so proud; I doubt if any travel that road, however poor or uneducated they may be, without looking with some degree of interest to the house where Maria Edgeworth is still living, and where she has passed the greatest part of so long and so valuable a life.

Original edition: Chapter 28 / Revised edition: Chapter 26

This is an odd chapter. We know that the escalating feud between Counsellor Webb and Jonas Brown is only destined to do Thady harm, yet Trollope treats the duel that results from an exchange of indirect insults between the men in an almost entirely comic vein.

The night before the duel, Jonas gets very little comfort from George and Fred, his sons:

During dinner he was somewhat silent and moody; but when he got to his wine he recovered his spirits, and seemed tolerably happy. Indeed he conducted himself wonderfully well, considering that during the whole evening Fred and George would talk of nothing but trepanned skulls, false knee-caps---cork legs---bullets that had come out of men's backs ten years after they had entered men's bellies---surgeon's knives---pincers and tourniquets---wills---attorneys---leaden coffins, and the family vault. George expressed a great desire to go and see his parent shot. Fred said that eight o'clock was so damnation early, or else he'd be happy. ..

Trollope also gets some mileage from the fact that both men have a Major as their second, Major Macdonnel and Major Longsword, who carry out their duties with great precision:

    "I believe we're ready now---eh, Major?"
    "Quite ready, Major. We'll have it over in two minutes."
    "I say, Major," and the other Major whispered; "Blake's just under the small bush there, I hope you won't want him."
    "Thank ye, Major, thank ye---I hope not."
    "And, Major, there can be no necessity for a second shot, I think---eh? Brown won't want a second shot, will he?"
    "Not at all, Major, not at all; a trifling thing like this---we'll have it over now in a double crack, eh?"
    "True, Major, true; put your man up, and I'll give the word."
    And the Majors put up their men with great dexterity, and the word was given...

And as for the outcome of the duel:

Mr Brown indulged a notion, whether correctly or not I am unable to say, but one which I believe to be not uncommon, that by presenting his side instead of his front to his adversary's fire, he exposed fewer vital parts to danger; and if destiny intended him to be wounded, he certainly, in the present instance, was benefited by the above arrangement, for he received the bullet in perhaps the least dangerous part of his body...

...

    "Where is it, Mr. Brown, where is it? Can you stand? Can you walk? Allow me to support you to the bank. You can get a seat there; we must sit down at once. My dear sir, the first thing is to get you to a comfortable seat."
    "Comfortable seat, and be d----d to you!" was the patient's uncivil reply.

******************

However, the chapter is very important in an overall Trollopean sense.

We might care to compare the casual way in which this duel is presented, compared to the famous secret one conducted in Phineas Finn, published in 1868.

More importantly, however, we must highlight the fact that this chapter of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran contains the first ever example of Trollope's talent for letter-writing, and conveying character through correspondence: Jonas Webb's letter is indirect, overlong and grandiloquent; Counsellor Webb's response is brief and to the point.

******************

Overall, there is a little tweaking, a little censorship (though still more swearing in this chapter than in any other), and a little cutting:

Original text:
"I must say," said George, "the Counsellor is a d----d good fellow on the course."

Revised text:
"I must say," said George, "the Counsellor is a good fellow on the course."

Original text:
"Don't say another word, father," said George, "if that's what you're after. I thought, may be, you'd like the fun yourself, or I'd have offered. I'd call him out with a heart and a half; by Jasus, there's nothing I'd like better."

Revised text:
"Don't say another word, father," said George, "if that's what you're after. I thought, may be, you'd like the fun yourself, or I'd have offered. I'd call him out with a heart and a half; there's nothing I'd like better."

...

    "Why, there's no contenting you," answered Fred; "just now nothing but pistols and coffee would do for you; and then you were in a passion because one of us wouldn't take a challenge for you at once, without knowing anything about it; and now you're just the other way; if you don't like the business, there's George will take it off your hands, he says."
    "By G-d you're a fool," said the father, "because I don't wish to put up with a downright insult, and be called a poltroon all my life, is that any reason why I should go out and be shot without thinking about it?"
    After a considerable quantity of squabbling among this family party it was at last decided that a civil note should be sent to Ardrum...

The last bit of cutting is unfortunate, as it removes another jab by Trollope at Jonas Brown for his attitude towards the local poor:

Major Longsword, who accompanied him, declared afterwards to his brother officers at Boyle, that Mr Brown's efforts to support himself by the arm-straps in the carriage were really disagreeable to witness. He got home safely, however; and though he was not competent to attend to his public duties for some considerable time (for instance, he was obliged to declare himself unable to take the chair at a meeting in Carrick, held for the purpose of opposing the indigent Farmers' Irish Agricultural Improvement Society), it is believed he was not a great sufferer.

Original edition: Chapter 29 / Revised edition: Chapter 27

At the beginning of the original chapter, since the reader knows what Father John has been up to, he comments simply:

The day after that on which Father John returned, he saw both Mr McKeon and the Counsellor, and explained to them as nearly as he could all that O'Malley had said to him.

In the revised chapter, Trollope gives a brief summary of Father John's activities. In this version, the reader loses all the detail of the priest's experiences: his uncomfortable journey, his interactions with his family, and most importantly the lawyer's depressingly clear-sighted reaction to Thady's situation:

It will be remembered that Father John had promised to take upon himself all the trouble attendant upon the preparation for Thady's trial; and with the view of redeeming this promise he went up to Dublin and spent a week among the lawyers who were to be engaged for the young man's defence. The chief among these was one Mr O'Malley, and the priest strove hard to imbue that gentleman with his own views of the whole matter. The day after that on which Father John returned...

The chapter is otherwise untouched. Chiefly it describes Feemy's determined escape from Mrs McKeon's home, and her exhausting walk home to Ballycloran. There are other ominous touches in this chapter, including Feemy resorting to painful and dangerous tight-lacing in an attempt to hide her pregnancy---which is continues to flat-out deny to Mrs McKeon.

Once re-established at Ballycloran, Feemy has to keep her secret from Mary McGovery, who is now caring for Larry. She fails, however: she faints one day, and when Mary loosens her clothes and (we gather) corset, she discovers the truth. But she tells only Mrs McKeon, confirming her worst fears.

One interesting use of language here:

For two days after the conversation which had passed between that lady and her charge, in which she declared her suspicions that Feemy was enceinte, the latter had made a great effort to recover her health, or at any rate the appearance of health.

"Enciente" is an archaic word (from the French out of Latin) referring to fortifications, or an enclosing wall around a property.

However---it is also an archaic French term for "pregnant".

We gather that Trollope was struggling to find acceptable ways of describing Feemy's condition.

One last intriguing touch: when Mary is trying to comfort Feemy in her clumsy way, she says the following:

...that if Ussher was gone, there were still as good fish in the sea as ever were caught,---and that even if Thady were condemned, the judge couldn't do more than transport him, which would only be sending him out to a better country, and "faix the one he'd lave's bad enough for man and baste."

That convict-era Australia was considered "a better country" tells us pretty much we need to know about contemporary conditions in Ireland.

Original edition: Chapter 30 / Revised edition: Chapter 28

The fact that Trollope let this long, in some ways pointless chapter stand almost untouched sheds a great deal of light upon what he did cut.

About three-quarters of this chapter are devoted to a detailed description of the conduct of the assizes in the town of Carrick-on-Shannon: the crowds, the physical discomfort, the conduct of the courts, and the miseries of the witnesses as they are exposed to the tender mercies of the barristers.

This is all acutely observed (another time where we feel Trollope has personally witnessed what he is describing), but it does not advance the story. It is also written in a rather comical tone.

These two points together make me conclude that the two cut chapters (and one more to come) were indeed removed because of the predominance in them of the character of Father John.

In Trollopean terms, we must note here the first expression of Trollope's life-long suspicion of the conduct of lawyers and the courts---and also the first appearance of his pointedly-named characters, in the two opposing barristers: the voluble Mr Allewinde, and the facetious Mr O'Laugher.

(I must conclude that neither of the people reading these chapters for Librivox were familiar with Trollope: both mispronounce "Allewinde", as "Alley-Wind" and "Ally-Wyned", instead of the obviously intended "All-Wind"; and one of them also mispronounces "O'Laugher", saying it as you would "McLaughlin".)

Trollope's satirical presentation of Mr Allewinde, his bullying tactics and his legal manoeuvring, take on a sinister aspect when we are belatedly informed that it is he who will be leading the prosecution in Thady's case.

The serious part of the chapter describes the pre-trial meeting between Keegan and Pat Brady. The latter, seeing how the efforts of Father John, Counsellor Webb and Tony McKeon have roused the district in Thady's favour, has gotten cold feet over his testimony. He is also awake to the danger of admitting he was one of the party of plotters.

Keegan, however, blames Thady for his own injuries, and is determined to get him hanged in revenge; and he threatens and pressures Brady into giving the testimony he originally promised, that is, that Ussher's murder was discussed and agreed upon by Thady, Reynolds and the others; when in fact it was he, Brady, who lured Thady to the meeting by promising him help against Keegan:

    "Did you hear, Brady," said the master, "that they've summoned me for the trial to-morrow?"
    "Iss, yer honour; they war telling me so up at the court; there's Dolan is summoned too."
    "Who's Dolan?"
    "He's one of the boys, Mr Keegan, as war in it that night at Mrs Mehan's."
    "Well, and what can he say? he can't say Macdermot wasn't there. He can't do any harm, Pat; for if he was to swear that he wasn't there, there's enough to prove that he was."
    "No, yer honour, it isn't that he'll be saying, but he'll be saying Captain Ussher's name wasn't mentioned, or may be that the boys were merely taking their drink, innocent like; that's what I be afeared---and that's what Corney 'll say; you'll see av he don't; he's the biggest liar in Drumleesh."
    "Oh, they'd soon knock all that out of him; besides, isn't he one of these potheen boys?"
    "Faix he is so, Mr. Keegan."
    "Then they'll not believe him---they'll believe you a deal sooner than him that way; but you must be plain about this, Brady, that they were talking about Ussher that night---d'ye hear? Be d----d but if you let them shake you about that you're lost. D'ye hear? Why don't you answer me, eh?"
    "Oh! shure, your honour, I'll be plain enough; certain sure the Captain's name war mentioned."
    "Mentioned! yes, and how was it mentioned? Didn't you tell me that Reynolds and young Macdermot were talking broadly about murdhering him? Didn't they agree to kill him---to choke him in a bog hole---or blow his brains out?"
    "It war your honour they war to put in a bog hole."

Original edition: Chapter 31 / Revised edition: Chapter 29

This important chapter is essentially untouched.

Trollope gets his effect here by contrasting the matter-of-fact behaviour of the various legal parties (even Thady's lawyers are only going through the motions with their challenges during jury selection) with Thady's own awareness of his situation.

There is poignancy in the reflections upon the general unhappiness and injustice of Thady's life:

    Thady's disposition had not been prone to hope; he had never been too sanguine---never sanguine enough. From the years to which his earliest memory could fall back, he had been fighting an earnest, hard battle with the world's cares, and though not thoroughly vanquished, he had always been worsted. He had never experienced what men called luck, and he therefore never expected it. Few men in any rank of life had known so little joy as he had done, or had so little pleasure; his only object in life had been to drive the wolf from his father's door and to keep a roof over him and his sister.
    Had patient industry and constant toil been able to have effected this, he would have been, perhaps not happy, but yet not discontented; this, however, circumstances had put out of his power, and he felt that the same uncontrollable circumstances had now brought him into his present position. He knew little of the Grecian's doctrine of necessity; but he had it in his heart that night, when he felt himself innocent, and was at the same time assured that all the kind efforts of his friends would not save him from his fate---a hangman's rope and the county gallows.

However, most of the focus is upon the testimony of Pat Brady. We get a foreshadowing of Trollope's later habit of, in effect, giving away his ending when the narrator comments grimly:

As the verdict to which the jury came, depended in a great degree on his evidence, it will be given as nearly as possible in detail.

Cowed by Keegan, yet determined not to incriminate himself, Brady's evidence is a masterpiece of indirection:

    "After what had taken place at Mrs. Mehan's, you did not expect Captain Ussher would be very long lived?"
    "Faix, he lived longer than I expected---seeing the way he war going on through the counthry."
    "Do you remember telling me some time ago, speaking of Captain Ussher's death, that the thing had been talked over?"
    "I b'lieve I said as much."
    "What did you mean by that?"
    "Why just that the job had been talked about."
    "What job?"
    "Why this job."
    "What job? Tell the jury what job."
    "Faix, they all know well enough by this time," and the witness looked up to the jury, "---or else they oughtn't to be there, any way."
    "Tell them what job you mean---never mind what they know."
    "'Deed thin, you're bothering me so entirely with yer jobs, I don't rightly know myself which I'm maning."
    "Think a little then, for you must tell them; you said the job had been talked over; what was it that had been talked over?"
    The witness gave a stolid look at the counsel, but answered nothing.
    "Come," continued Mr Allewinde, "what was the job that had been talked over?"
    "Bad manners to the likes of me; but I war niver cute, and now I'm bothered intirely."

Original edition: Chapter 32 / Revised edition: Chapter 30

This chapter, too, is untouched.

Here we have the battle between Pat Brady and Mr O'Malley, with the latter trying to bring out Brady's new position as the tool of Keegan, and Keegan's violent hostility towards Thady. There is only so much he can do, however, against the brick wall of Brady's testimony:

    "Think now, my man; when you were trying to persuade your master to go to the widow Mulready's, did you mention Mr Jonas Brown's name?"
    "D'ye think I do be counting my words that way; how am I to say all the names I mintioned four or five months back?"
    "On your solemn oath don't you remember mentioning that gentleman's name to the prisoner with reference to his visit to Mrs Mulready's?"
    "What, Jonas Brown's name?"
    "Yes."
    "Faix I may."
    "Don't you know you did?"
    "Faix I don't."
    "Didn't you threaten your master, that if he did not attend the meeting, some of the boys would swear against him, before Mr Brown, for having joined the party and taken the oath at the wedding?"
    "What av I did?"
    "But did you?"
    "Maybe I did---maybe I didn't; I disremember thim little things."

The rest of the chapter concerns O'Malley's opening address to the jury. Here we are made to understand what a difficult task he has taken on---because Thady and his supporters do not merely want a verdict of 'not guilty', they want it openly declared that he was no part of a conspiracy against Ussher, and that his actions were entirely unpremeditated and wholly in defence of Feemy.

This is a masterly presentation of the case for the defence (and a masterly piece of writing by Trollope):

"This man, Brady, on whose sole evidence you are desired to convict the prisoner, has shown himself an approver of the very worst description. You are aware that he was the prisoner's servant; that he is now Mr Keegan's; that there has been long enmity between these men; that the former has been an oppressed debtor---the latter a most oppressive creditor. Mr Keegan's spirit towards the prisoner's family you may learn from the scandalous and unwarrantable language which has been proved to you to have been used by him towards them. Mr Keegan's acerbity has been increased by the mutilation he has undergone, and which he conceives he owes to his interference with the Ballycloran property. This man and the witness Brady have, as you have heard, constantly been talking over this trial, and the attorney, it seems, has repeatedly expressed to his servant his ardent wish that the prisoner might be hung. This is his expressed eager desire; and then this new servant, but long-used spy, comes forward boldly to swear away the prisoner's life! "

Original edition: Chapter 33 / Revised edition: Chapter 31

There is some minor trimming here---and a couple of cuts, one of them significant.

Mr O'Malley concludes his speech to the jury by highlighting the dangerous pressure put upon them by the prosecution, to "make an example" of Thady regardless of his specific guilt or innocence.

However---to prove Thady's innocence as he wishes - that his killing of Ussher was not premeditated, and that certainly it had nothing to do with the schemes of the Ribbonmen - he must rely upon the testimony of Feemy, as the only witness.

Under the pressure of guilt and misery, Femmy's health is collapsing; and the people tasked with getting her into the courtroom, including Father John and Tony McKeon, fear that the effort will be futile, and that she will not stand up under the ordeal---or, perhaps, even survive it.

Interestingly, it is implied obliquely that both Tony and Father John have recognised the truth of Feemy's condition; but that is put aside in the stress of the moment.

However, for Thady's sake Mr O'Malley insists upon Feemy being brought forward to say what she can. But the result is what the others feared:

    To describe the scene which immediately followed would be to treat so sacred a subject much too lightly. The priest, however, found that neither life nor reason was extinct; she acknowledged the symbol of salvation in which she trusted, and received that absolution from her sins which her church considers necessary. Who can say how deeply she had repented of her misdeeds during the many hours of silent agony which she had endured!
    Her arm was stretched out from her body, and her hand was clasped tightly in that of Mrs McKeon's. The moment before she drew her final breath, she felt and tried to return the pressure; she made one great struggle to speak. "Myles" was the single word which her lips had strength to form; and with that last effort poor Feemy died...

And with Feemy's death, the case for the defence falls apart.

There is some cutting here---partly, I think, to remove an unnecessary piece of foreshadowing, though Trollope may also have considered that it was neither the time nor the place for the additional reflections:

Father John returned to the private room, and tried to make her speak. He kneeled down before her, and again began explaining to her the purpose for which she was there, and implored her to exert herself to save her brother. She once or twice opened her mouth, as if speaking, but uttered no sound. She understood, however, what the priest said to her, for she gently pressed his hand when he took hold of hers, and nodded her head to him, when he begged her to exert herself. As he looked upon her dying face---for he could not but see that in all probability she had not long to live; he reflected how grievously she had expiated her folly in not listening to the advice of her friends respecting Ussher, and all his anger against her ceased.

The other cut, however, is censorship: Trollope was originally too explicit about the circumstances of Feemy's death:

...he found Feemy on the ground, with her head supported on Mrs McKeon's lap, and Blake kneeling beside her, endeavouring to pour something into her mouth. There was another woman standing in the room, and an apothecary, whom the doctor had sent for; but Father John was soon made to understand that medical skill could avail but little, and that all the aid which Feemy could now receive from her fellow-creatures was to come from him. Her many griefs and inward struggles had brought on premature parturition, and she was now dying from its effects.

Original edition: Chapter 34 / Revised edition: Chapter 32

This short chapter is almost untouched.

After a long and painful delay - after, indeed, all the other business of the assizes is done with, and the judges are due to depart; and with the threat of a further three-months' incarceration and a re-trial in the summer - the jury brings in a verdict of guilty against Thady.

The fetters were again fixed on to his legs, and he was led away in the midst of a body of policemen into court. Father John hurried to the same place, where he found Mr. McKeon already seated on one of the dark benches. There were but very few there, as every one had left it after the business of the day had been concluded; some of those who were in town and had heard that the jury were at last unanimous, had hurried down; but the generality of the strangers who were still remaining in Carrick, preferred the warmth of the hotel fires to paddling down through the rain, dirt, and dark, even to hear the verdict in a case in which every one was so much interested...

There is one odd little change at the end of the chapter, when Tony McKeon is trying to rouse Father John, who collapses in the face of the verdict:

Revised text:
The assizes were then finished---the judge immediately left the court---the prisoner was taken back to his cell---the lights were extinguished---and when the servants of the sheriff came to lock the door, they found Mr McKeon still vainly endeavouring to arouse the broken-hearted priest from his ecstasy of sorrow.

Original text:
The assizes were then finished---the judge immediately left the court---the prisoner was taken back to his cell---the lights were extinguished---and when the servants of the sheriff came to lock the door, they found Mr McKeon still vainly endeavouring to arouse the broken-hearted priest from his lethargy of sorrow.

Original edition: Chapter 35 / Revised edition: Chapter 33

This chapter is untouched.

But to wait in full health and strength for the arrival of the fixed hour of certain death—to feel the moments sink from under you which are fast bringing you to the executioner's hand;---to know that in twelve---ten---eight---six hours by the clock, which hurries through the rapid minutes, you are to become---not by God's accomplished visitation---not in any gallant struggle of your own---but through the stern will of certain powerful men---a hideous, foul, and dislocated corse;---to know that at one certain ordained moment you are to be made extinct---to be violently put an end to;---to be fully aware that this is your fixed fate, and that though strong as a lion, you must at that moment die like a dog;---to await the doom without fear---without feeling the blood grow cold round the heart,---without a quickened pulse and shaking muscles, exceeds the bounds of mortal courage, and requires either the ignorant unimaginative indifference of a brute, or the superhuman endurance of an enthusiastic martyr...

DELETED CHAPTER

In the revised text, Trollope ends his story in the immediate aftermath of Thady's execution.

In the original text, however, he added one more chapter tying up the story for the survivors of his tragedy.

This ending does little to lighten the grim tone, and Trollope may have felt it was piling on. We hear how Keegan finally succeeds in having Larry Macdermot removed from Ballycloran---but, due to the legal intervention of Counsellor Webb and Tony McKeon, he does not succeed in getting the house into his hands after all. Moreover, the implacable hatred for his actions shown in the district finally ruins Keegan and drives him away.

With respect to Pat Brady, Trollope pours irony upon bitter irony. After quarreling with and separating himself from Keegan, he too leaves---only to reappear as, of all things, a Revenue Officer. In this guise he meets the very fate intended for Ussher...but his murderers - one of them Joe Reynolds - get away with it.

But unsurprisingly, Trollope closes his chapter and his novel with the struggles of Father John, who never recovers from his experiences with Thady. Eventually he relocates to Dublin, with a house close to that of his brother and sister-in-law; but he keeps his promise to Thady, and continues to ensure the care and upkeep of Larry:

Once a year he spends a week with Mr McKeon, when he personally inspects the comforts of his old pensioner, and charges Mary to make him as comfortable as she can---and everyone in Drumsna looks forward to that week. It must be no slight pleasure to such a heart as his to see the true delight with which all his old parishioners come to see him. He was always a man loved---rarely feared---never despised---and thoroughly respected...

Afterthoughts

I won't comment on the book itself here, except in general terms; instead I'll add a review as usual to my main thread.

It is fairly said that Trollope did not find his true voice as a novelist until The Warden: his first few novels are an odd mix, of varying success. Yet his power as a story-teller is evident from the outset, and so to is his interest in, and talent for conveying, the inner, often contradictory motivations of his characters.

The unrelenting grimness of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran makes it an anomaly in Trollope's career; yet there is no doubt that in writing it, he was conveying Ireland as he himself saw it. The novel - in its original form - is a valuable document, that rare Irish novel to describe the country and its conditions before the potato famine. So precarious is existence even for the relatively prosperous, and so dependent upon the potato is the entire population, of all walks of life, that the utter devastation wrought by the blight can easily be envisaged.

Which brings us to the question of why Trollope altered his novel when it was reissued some thirteen years (and six novels) later.

We do not know whether the alterations were Trollope's own idea, or whether (foreshadowing his struggles over The Duke's Children a further twenty years in his future) he changed his text under pressure from his publishers.

However, the trend of most of the alterations is evident.

Some of it was effectively censorship, a lessening of the (realistic) swearing and a general removal of language that became ever-more unacceptable as the Victorian era wore on. Most strikingly for the modern reader, Trollope removed his bald statement of the cause of Feemy's death, and left it to be inferred.

As for the removal of three entire chapters---though we can find subsidiary reasons for this, it is plain upon reading the original text that what these chapters have most in common is the prominence in them of Father John. In these sections of the novel, he ceases to be a supporting character, and becomes the focus; his thoughts, feelings and motivations are brought before the reader in detail---showing him as a devout, honest, warm-hearted and generous man, if certainly not one without flaws.

For those unfamiliar with the scope of 19th century English literature, it can be hard to fathom how revolutionary, in a novel by an Englishman and a Protestant, a positive and sympathetic portrait of a Catholic priest really was. Moreover, Trollope makes no criticism of the Catholic faith or those who practise it. And all this is placed within the context of an understanding depiction of the genuine struggles and misery of the Irish poor (whether gentry or peasant) under English governance of the country.

It isn't hard to fathom why this novel was unpopular, even apart from its grim narrative. In terms of contemporary English views of the Irish, it may well have been taken as an affront.

But whoever was ultimately responsible for the changes to the text---we must understand that the man who wrote The Macdermots Of Ballycloran and the man who cut it some thirteen years later were effectively two different people. One was at the outset of his career, living and working in Ireland and immersed in all things Irish, and with a new career as a writer only a dream; the other was perhaps the most English of all 19th century English novelists, with the success of Barchester Towers in his immediate past and the English reading public in his grasp.

Versions

Of course I'm going to recommend that anyone wanting to read The Macdermots Of Ballycloran try to find the Trollope Society / Folio Society edition, which reproduces the original text. There are some inexpensive copies out there, so if you think you might like to read this some day, by all means grab one!

Failing that, I would consider the Oxford University Press and Penguin editions which provide the three deleted chapters as an appendix acceptable, if not ideal. There was less general cutting of the text than I had been led to believe (though certainly the cuts that were made were not negligible), and this version is a reasonable substitute. If you are buying a copy, do check first that it has the appendix.

Potential readers need to be aware that the free online versions of the novel, including the one at Project Gutenberg, do not provide the extra chapters.

Moreover, I am inclined to warn people off the Librivox audio version!

I should state at the outset that I am not a fan of audiobooks - I am too easily distracted by accents, rhythms, pronunciations - so I am not the best judge of how others might react to an individual recording.

That said, one of the reasons that this project took so long to get through was that I found my chosen approach, i.e. comparing the uncut text to the Librivox version, difficult and in some instances genuinely painful.

I appreciate that American accents sounding "wrong" in my ears, particularly for an English novel, is an individual thing. (I am also conscious that the regional English accent of one reader was in fact no less "wrong" in actuality, even if it felt so to me.) But beyond this were numerous issues of poor reading styles, with stilted delivery. mispronunciation of certain words, and the emphasis seemingly always in the wrong place.

One reader in particular became a huge stumbling-block for me, with their misguided attempts to sound Irish---which came out sounding more like someone attempting a "comic" Indian accent, rather like Apu in The Simpsons---and their insistence on speaking this way even with no indication in the text that the character had an accent at all. This approach turned some of the dialogue-heavy chapters into a form of aural torture.

But of course---different strokes. :)

And finally...

While this split-reading of The Macdermots Of Ballycloran was undertaken simply for my own information, it is my hope that others will find this thread of use in the future, and that it will assist with a better understanding of this unjustly neglected novel.

I am in awe of what you did here, Liz! I won't pretend that I read every post, but I read enough to know that I need to put this Trollope on my "to read" list. Is there anything that dude wrote that I can safely skip?

:-)

Nope. :)

Seriously, not a lot: there are a few weaker works at the beginning and end of his career, but overall he was amazingly consistent as well as prolific.

And now - you knew I was going to say this, right? - with this out of the way, I'm probably going to embark on a gap-filling exercise...in order, of course. You're welcome to join me for anything that catches your fancy!

>60 lyzard: Hmmm. That might be tempting ...

Tremendous work, Liz. When I am ready to re-read, I'll be sure to come here. I can tell you that the Dover edition, which is your cover in >1 lyzard:, is a "cut" edition and does NOT have any of the restored chapters, as that is the edition I own.

Even with the cuts, when I read this novel, it did seem like Father John was a main character, but it's clear that with the restored text his role is even stronger.

Re: audiobooks. I can only tolerate a handful of readers. Juliet Stevenson does a magnificent job with any Austen and Middlemarch. When you think about it, Austen often read books aloud with her family, and her novels are well suited for audiobooks.

For Trollope, most of his major works have been read by Simon Vance (aka Robert Whitfield), and he does an excellent reading. I was not impressed with Timothy West reading Trollope.

And I have yet to be able to listen to any Librivox recording all the way through. I applaud their volunteer efforts, but they are what they are.

Thank you, Kathy! Thank you too for that note about the Dover edition: I think it's important that we include that sort of information here. (FYI, I just happened to think that cover image was the most appropriate!)

Yes, I do appreciate the fact that this novel was available at all through Librivox, and I managed with most of the readers, whether American or British; but that one nearly scuppered the entire project! :)

Read your review on your other thread, Liz. Great summary--I wish I'd had it the first go-round of reading. But it is a very hard book to re-read.

So---what's up next for Trollope? (don't mean to rush you or anything...)

Thanks again. Yes, completely understand that; but the thread's here if you ever do want it. :)

Nothing immediately, with the group read of The Wanderer in my immediate future (I hope you'll be joining us for that?); but after that, unless there's a strong push from others for a particular novel, as I was saying to Julia I'm inclined to do some gap-filling, and to read those works I either haven't at all (and there are a few) or haven't for many years.

So at some point I'll probably be reading The Kellys And The O'Kellys, which I don't think I have read before. We could make a little group project out of it, if you're interested?? :D

I read the Kellys a few years back, but it would be interesting now to re-read and compare it to the Macdermotts, which I hadn't read at that point. I remember liking it and that it had some funny bits, more than TMOB.

Yep, my Wanderer is on its way from the main library downtown.

I also have La Vendee, which is really hard to find around here. The one copy that I've got from the library is really beat up, and I may start that soon.

Excellent!

I read La Vendee a few years back: I found it interesting, though of course given the subject matter not an easy read.

I won't be thinking about The Kellys And The O'Kellys until September at the earliest; I can give you a heads-up then and we can talk about what we might like to do.

>67 lyzard: Sounds like a plan....