In 1809, at the time of the first appearance of the Quarterly Review, each British political-literary journal was as a bell, some mighty, some minor, ringing out from the particular edifice to which it belonged – the church party, the university clique, the parliamentary interest. Supported as the Quarterly Review was by a set of liberal-conservative politicians and literary men, every article in it was as the tap of a bell sounding out to all who heard it the unmistakeable chords of the Canningite faction and its sympathizers. Whether finely or harshly struck depended upon the talent and intention of its writer, the hammer muted or the sound amplified by editor or publisher, in accordance with their temper or purpose.

Each reader of political-literary periodicals in the period of coverage was as acutely tuned to his or her prejudices as each reader of the present volume is today and could pick out from the intellectual cacophony nuances of ideological colour. At this distant point in time, because we lack the detail of experience and received impressions that constituted John Murray's and William Gifford's mental landscape, we hear only faint echoes of what were once clear tones and can therefore pick out only the grosser sounds of party propaganda. The historian's task, however, is to detect shades of pitch finer than the often puerile designations of ‘right’ and ‘left’, ‘progressive’ and ‘reactionary’, a task that is made easier when the source is amplified by voluminous and various evidence. A purpose of this volume, then, is to aid historians in interpreting the Quarterly's ideological colour by presenting fresh evidentiary detail.

The student of early periodicals who turns his or her attention to the Quarterly Reviewis richly rewarded by the fortunate preservation of thousands of letters and other documents. The Quarterly is the paper equivalent of a finely grained stratigraphic horizon; by it, the literary archaeologist can more surely interpret the past.