oquence, to the consummate painter of life and manners. It was due,
above all, to the great satirist, who alone knew how to use ridicule
without abusing it, who, without inflicting a wound, effected a great
social reform, and who reconciled wit and virtue, after a long and
disastrous separation, during which wit had been led astray by
profligacy, and virtue by fanaticism.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] The Life of Joseph Addison. By Lucy Aikin. 2 vols. 8vo. London:
1843.

[10] Orlando Furioso, xlv. C8.

[11] It is strange that Addison should, in the first line of his
travels, have misdated his departure from Marseilles by a whole year,
and still more strange that this slip of the pen which throws the whole
narrative into inextricable confusion, should have been repeated in a
succession of editions, and never detected by Tickell or by Hurd.

[12] Nos. 26, 329, 69, 317, 159, 343, 517. These papers are all in the
first seven volumes. The eighth must be considered as a separate work.

[13] We will transcribe the whole paragraph. How it can ever have been
misunderstood is unintelligible to us.

"But our author's chief concern is for the poor House of Commons, whom
he represents as naked and defenceless, when the Crown, by losing this
prerogative, would be less able to protect them against the power of a
House of Lords. Who forbears laughing when the Spanish Friar represents
little Dicky, under the person of Gomez, insulting the Colonel that was
able to fright him out of his wits with a single frown? This Gomez, says
he, flew upon him like a dragon, got him down, the Devil being strong in
him, and gave him bastinado on bastinado, and buffet on buffet, which
the poor Colonel, being prostrate, suffered with a most Christian
patience. The improbability of the fact never fails to raise mirth in
the audience; and one may venture to answer for a British House of
Commons, if we may guess from its conduct hitherto, that it will scarce
be either so tame or so weak as our author supposes."

BARERE[14]

_The Edinburgh Review_, April, 1844

This book has more than one title to our serious attention. It is an
appeal, solemnly made to posterity by a man who played a conspicuous
part in great events, and who represents himself as deeply aggrieved by
the rash and malevolent censure of his contemporaries. To such an appeal
we shall always give ready audience. We can perform no duty more useful
to society, or more agreeable to our own fe