The title given in the magazine was _The Luck of Barry Lyndon: a Romance of the last Century_.
By Fitz-Boodle.

In the collected edition of Thackeray's works the _Memoirs_ are given as "Written by himself," and were, I presume, so brought out by Thackeray, after they had appeared in _Fraser_.

Why Mr.
George Fitz-Boodle should have been robbed of so great an honour I do not know.
In imagination, language, construction, and general literary capacity, Thackeray never did anything more remarkable than _Barry Lyndon_.

I have quoted the words which he put into the mouth of Ikey Solomon, declaring that in the story which he has there told he has created nothing but disgust for the wicked characters he has produced, and that he has "used his humble endeavours to cause the public also to hate them." Here, in _Barry Lyndon_, he has, probably unconsciously, acted in direct opposition to his own principles: Barry Lyndon is as great a scoundrel as the mind of man ever conceived.

He is one who might have taken as his motto Satan's words; "Evil, be thou my good." And yet his story is so written that it is almost impossible not to entertain something of a friendly feeling for him.