The reputation of WILLIAM GODWIN as a social philosopher, and the merits of his famous novel, Caleb Williams, have been for more than a century the subject of extreme divergencies of judgment among critics. The first systematic anarchist, as he is called by Professor Saintsbury, aroused bitter contention with his writings during his own lifetime, and his opponents have remained so prejudiced that even the staid bibliographer Allibone, in his Dictionary of English Literature, a place where one would think the most flagitious author safe from animosity, speaks of Godwin’s private life in terms that are little less than scurrilous. Over against this persistent acrimony may be put the fine eulogy of Mr. C. Kegan Paul, his biographer, to represent the favourable judgment of our own time, whilst I will venture to quote one remarkable passage that voices the opinions of many among Godwin’s most eminent contemporaries.