tions, and in his last contortion 'sees his subjick a-nosin' round arter him agin'.' Still, the pursuit of a subject gives a certain unction to oratory, and in the same kind of perverted and anomalous fashion Godwin's moral gives a sort of momentum and diffused energy to his mass of incongruities.
Godwin's next novel, St. Leon, is, I suppose, the last—in spite of Shelley—which anybody has read in modern times, and marks a stage in his development. It appeared in 1799, and shows that he had learnt something from his brief married life. He announces in the preface that he has now learnt that there is really some good in the 'private affections.' He adds calmly that this opinion is perfectly consistent with the rest of his doctrines—though to most readers the alteration required in them seems to be considerable. Anyhow, his new doctrine again provided him with a really striking situation. St. Leon is a French nobleman of the seventeenth century, though, it need hardly be said, Godwin takes very little trouble to give any genuine picture of the time. St. Leon has made a happy and aristocratic marriage, when he is accidentally reduced to extreme poverty. An affectionate family, however, surrounds him, and he manages to get on pretty well in an Alpine
