When I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not much care, how it is to end.

This is a long way from saying plausibly that Trollope is to any extent a crime novelist. He did write at least one murder mystery, Phineas Redux, although it's only a murder mystery for the extent of 24 pages in my edition before Trollope the narrator reveals the identity of the killer. "The maintenance of any doubt on that matter, - were it even desirable to maintain a doubt, - would be altogether beyond the power of the present writer," says Trollope, and you can't help feeling he's silently adding "and beneath my dignity".

...

Trollope couldn't abide this sort of thing [detailing clueing in detective novels], as he made clear elsewhere in his Autobiography. 

... When I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not much care, how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct his that he not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to the minutest detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots it all back again, to see that there is no piece of necessary dove-tailing that does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The construction is most minute and most wonderful. But I can never lose the taste of the construction.

J. Kerridge, ' "Fifteen yards beyond the fourth milestone." Anthony Trollope: crime writer', Trollopiana 130 (2025), 5-6

They are easily disillusioned and then they are angry with you, for it was the illusion they loved

It is dangerous to let the public behind the scenes. They are easily disillusioned and then they are angry with you, for it was the illusion they loved; they do not understand that what interests you is the way in which you have created the illusion. Anthony Trollope ceased to be read for thirty years because he confessed that he wrote at regular hours and took care to get the best price he could for his work.

W. S. Maugham, The summing up (1938), 77-8

The model for a husband

A Member of Parliament, with a small house near Eaton Square, with a moderate income, and a liking for committees, who would write a pamphlet once every two years, and read Dante critically during the recess, was, to her, the model for a husband.

A. Trollope, The Belton Estate (1865), 104

For nothing much, he assumed, could reasonably be expected from the commonalty; it was remarkable how well some of them did behave on occasions

He was quite without class conscousness because he saw the whole intricate social structure of his country divided neatly into two unequal and unmistakeable parts. On the one side stood the Crouchbacks and certain inconspicuous, anciently allied families; on the other stood the rest of mankind, Box-Bender, the butcher, the Duke of Omnium (whose onetime wealth derived from monastic spoils), Lloyd George, Neville Chamberlain - all of a piece together. Mr Crouchback acknowledged no monarch since James II. It was not an entirely sane conspectus but it engendered in his gentle breast two rare qualities, tolerance and humility. For nothing much, he assumed, could reasonably be expected from the commonalty; it was remarkable how well some of them did behave on occasions; while, for himself, any virtue he had came from afar without his deserving, and every small fault was grossly culpable in a man of his high tradition.

E. Waugh, Men at Arms (1952), in collected edition, Sword of Honour (1984), 28  

Note the nice Trollope reference to the Duke of Omnium

It is a fact amazing to ordinary mortals that The Jupiter is never wrong

I wanted to post the entire chapter on the power of the press from The Warden, but it's too long. This is the best bit - the entire thing is here.

It is a fact amazing to ordinary mortals that The Jupiter [i.e. the Times] is never wrong. With what endless care, with what unsparing labour, do we not strive to get together for our great national council the men most fitting to compose it. And how we fail! Parliament is always wrong: look at The Jupiter, and see how futile are their meetings, how vain their council, how needless all their trouble! With what pride do we regard our chief ministers, the great servants of state, the oligarchs of the nation on whose wisdom we lean, to whom we look for guidance in our difficulties! But what are they to the writers of The Jupiter? They hold council together and with anxious thought painfully elaborate their country's good; but when all is done, The Jupiter declares that all is naught. Why should we look to Lord John Russell - why should we regard Palmerston and Gladstone, when Tom Towers without a struggle can put us right? Look at our generals, what faults they make; at our admirals, how inactive they are. What money, honesty, and science can do, is done; and yet how badly are our troops brought together, fed, conveyed, clothed, armed, and managed. The most excellent of our good men do their best to man our ships, with the assistance of all possible external appliances; but in vain. All, all is wrong - alas! alas! Tom Towers, and he alone, knows all about it. Why, oh why, ye earthly ministers, why have ye not followed more closely this heaven-sent messenger that is among us?

A. Trollope, The Warden (1855), 181

For fifty years the world has talked of, condemned, and executed Robespierre

For fifty years the world has talked of, condemned, and executed Robespierre. Men and women, who have barely heard the names of Pitt and Fox, who know not whether Metternich is a man or a river, or one of the United States, speak of Robespierre as of a thing accursed. They know, at any rate, what he was--the demon of the revolution; the source of the fountain of blood with which Paris was deluged; the murderer of the thousands whose bodies choked the course of the Loire and the Rhone. Who knows not enough of Robespierre to condemn him?

...

Has it not been proved to us that crooked-backed Richard was a good and politic King; and that the iniquities of Henry VIII are fabulous? whereas the agreeable predilections of our early youth are disturbed by our hearing that glorious Queen Bess, and learned King James, were mean, bloodthirsty, and selfish.

A. Trollope, The Vendee (1850), Kindle ed. loc 4399 and 4405

But rebellion and hell-fire are synonomous

"But rebellion and hell-fire are synonomous," said the priest, "and loyalty is the road to Paradise

A. Trollope, The Vendee (1850), Kindle ed. loc. 637

The synod made an ass of itself; as synods always do

The synod made an ass of itself; as synods always do. It is necessary to get a lot of men together, for the show of the thing--otherwise the world will not believe. That is the meaning of committees. But the real work must always be done by one or two men

A. Trollope, The Claverings (1867), Kindle loc. 4850