ound, that God made men
upright--but they have sought out many inventions."

This work was first published anonymously, and for that reason perhaps
it has been slow in attaining to its rightful station amongst its
brethren--whose parentage at first was openly acknowledged. If compared
with Pelham, it might lose, at the first glance, but would perhaps gain
on any attentive reperusal.

For although it must follow from the inherent difference in the design
of the two works thus referred to, that in Godolphin there can be
little of the satire or vivacity which have given popularity to its
predecessor, yet, on the other hand, in Godolphin there ought to be a
more faithful illustration of the even polish that belongs to luxurious
life,--of the satiety that pleasure inflicts upon such of its votaries
as are worthy of a higher service. The subject selected cannot adroit
the same facility for observation of things that lie on the surface--but
it may well lend itself to subtler investigation of character--allow
more attempt at pathos, and more appeal to reflection.

Regarded as a story, the defects of Godolphin most apparent to myself,
are in the manner in which Lucilla is re-introduced in the later
chapters, and in the final catastrophe of the hero. There is an
exaggerated romance in the one, and the admission of accident as a
crowning agency in the other, which my maturer judgment would certainly
condemn, and which at all events appear to me out of keeping with the
natural events, and the more patient investigation of moral causes and
their consequences, from which the previous interest of the tale is
sought to be attained. On the other hand, if I may presume to conjecture
the most probable claim to favour which the work, regarded as a
whole, may possess--it may possibly be found in a tolerably accurate
description of certain phases of modern civilisation, and in the
suggestion of some truths that may be worth considering in our
examination of social influences or individual conduct.

CHAPTER I.

THE DEATH-BED OF JOHN VERNON.--HIS DYING WORDS.--DESCRIPTION OF HIS
DAUGHTER, THE HEROINE.--THE OATH.

"Is the night calm, Constance?"

"Beautiful! the moon is up."

"Open the shutters wider, there. It _is_ a beautiful night. How
beautiful! Come hither, my child."

The rich moonlight that now shone through the windows streamed on little
that it could invest with poetical attraction. The room was small,
though not squa