PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE
WILLIAM HAZLITT.

BY P. G. PATMORE.

No. 2.

HAZLITT'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE HIS HABITS OF LIFE-HIS MODES OF COMPOSITION.

HAZLITT is considered by some of his friends to have had many points of intellectual character and temperament in common with Rousseau. But I do not know how they would set about to make out the resemblance, except in one isolated feature—that of the morbid feeling which possessed Hazlitt, as to the sinister effect of his personal appearance and manner, on ordinary observers. Rousseau fancied that his friends were always hatching plots and conspiracies against him: in like manner, Hazlitt fancied that everybody (except his friends) who looked upon him, perceived something about him that was strange and outré.

There was about as much and as little foundation for the feeling in the one case as the other: it was in fact the result of a consciousness in both that there was something within, which each would have desired to conceal: but there was this vital difference between the two-that in the case of Rousseau, the weaknesses and errors of which he feared the discovery and promulgation, were such as all men consent to be ashamed of; whereas in the case of Hazlitt, his extreme sensitiveness pointed at failings that could hurt nobody but himself: moreover, what he chiefly feared from the eyes of the world was, that they would see in him, not what he was, but what the lies and libels of his political and personal enemies had proclaimed him to be. He feared that vulgar eyes would discover in him, not the man he was, but the "pimpled Hazlitt" that Blackwood had placarded him on every bare wall that knew no better throughout the empire.

There are few things that exercise a more marked and unequivocal influence on the lives and characters of men of great susceptibility of temperament, than any personal peculiarity, especially when it is one obvious to all the world: witness the case of Byron,

to whose personal defect might probably be traced every one of the leading events and features of his strange and melancholy career. And the same might perhaps be said of Hazlitt, with this aggravating qualification-that in his case the peculiarity was wholly imaginary, except in so far as the imagination, while acting upon his mind, made that into a fact which had else been only a figment of his own brain. If Hazlitt had not in his moody moments fancied himself a mark for vulgar and ignorant wonder "to point the slow unmoving finger at," he might have been living among us now, one of the most delightful ornaments of social life, and the noblest examples of the advancing spirit of his day and country-the pride and pleasure of his friends, and himself the happy witness of the coming on of that glorious dawn of better things which his own writings have so materially helped to bring about.

The result of this morbid imagination-this one idea which haunted him like a visible phantom-this falsehood, which, knowing it to be such, he nevertheless palmed off upon himself as a palpable truth, till at last he believed it-the result of this was, that, with the most social disposition in the world, and with social qualities of unsurpassed amount and value, Hazlitt, during the latter years of his life, lived almost alone in the world-simply because he could not persuade himself to seek that social intercourse which he had lost the power of purchasing at the ordinary price, of complying with all the minutiae in the received usages of modern life and manners. He felt, in this respect, like a man who is travelling in a strange or savage country, with his pockets full of gold, for which nobody will give him bread in exchange, because his coin has not the conventional stamp of the place, or because the people he has to deal with set no value on anything but those smooth shells and glittering beads with which he has neglected to provide himself.

There can be little doubt that Hazlitt's manner, superinduced · upon him by his own morbid mistake as to his personal appearance, had more to do with his peculiar and painful destiny as regards the private relations of life, than any one but himself would perhaps have been willing to admit. And therefore it is that it becomes a point worthy of especial notice in these Recollections. Indeed there probably never occurred a more striking example of the vast influence of external trifles over the moral and intellectual condition of man; nor can I conceive a finer

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theme for the pen of Hazlitt himself to have descanted upon and illustrated; for he was even more intensely aware of the facts of the case, and of their causes and consequences, than if else had been the subject of them. And this knowledge was a perpetual aggravation of the evil, without, on the other hand, contributing in the smallest degree to its cure. It was one of those fatal cases in which the sufferer" 'weeps the more because he weeps in vain."

Nothing could be more curious, and at times affecting, than to observe (as those who thoroughly knew Hazlitt might often do) the working of these feelings, in his occasional intercourse with society. You would suppose, perhaps, that the external deference and respect, not to mention the personal homage and admiration, of a man like Hazlitt, were reserved for the distinguished philosophers, men of science, poets, scholars, and statesmen of the day. Alas! the chancellor Oxtensteirn himself had not a more contemptuous notion of the means and materials it takes to make " a great man," in the estimation of the world (whether of fact or of opinion), which great men are destined to govern. Accordingly, in the presence of these, even the most deservedly celebrated among them, Hazlitt felt himself perfectly at ease and on an equality. But bring him face to face with one of those sleek favourites of fortune, who are supposed to find especial favour in fair eyes, or (above all) one of those happily constituted persons, who combine the several attributes and peculiarities of manner, look, attire, &c., which go to form the "gentleman" of modern times, and he was like a man awe-struck, and confounded with a sense of his own comparative insignificance.

I remember once gaining his leave to introduce him to a person whose only error in these respects was, that he carried them all to the verge of coxcombry; but who, en revanche, had the most earnest and sincere admiration for Hazlitt, and was, in all other respects, a cultivated and accomplished man. My friend had long solicited me to bring about this meeting; and though, in the early part of my acquaintance with Hazlitt I had avoided it, as a service of danger to all parties, I soon found that it might be effected, not only without any peril to my friend, but with real gratification to Hazlitt himself, who had the most unmingled admiration for the qualities in question, unimpaired by the slightest touch of envy towards the owner of them.

The meeting took place at Hazlitt's chambers; and after a

little of the same sort of blank embarrassment and school-boy shyness, that one may fancy a country recluse might have exhibited on being called upon to sustain a personal interview with George the Fourth, I never knew Hazlitt spend a happier evening, or one so entirely free from those occasional fallings back into his other and less natural self, which were at once the sin and the curse of his social life. With the exception of this one occasion, I do not know that I have ever passed an evening with him, the intellectual enjoyment of which was not at intervals broken in upon by looks passing over his noble countenance, which, where they did not move the observer to terror or wonder, could not fail to excite the deepest pain and pity. But on the evening I am referring to, I particularly remarked that nothing of this kind occurred.

The reason of this, on after reflection, became obvious to me. Our talk was, almost without exception, on the ordinary topics of the passing hour-the public and social events of the day— the theatres-the actors and actresses-our mutual friends (not forgetting their weaknesses)—a little "scandal about Queen Elizabeth"-in short, anything and everything but books, bookmaking, book-learning, and those exclusively literary themes, which Hazlitt liked less than any others that could be started. The consequence was, that old associations and painful recollections never once came back to him-broken friendships and buried affections found no unoccupied place in his mind, on which to cast their shadows-present annoyances were crowded out of doors-future contingencies were as if they could never happenand the sometimes moody, gloomy, constrained and taciturn recluse, was (to the no small astonishment of my other friend) free and fresh-hearted as a school-boy among his mates; gay and voluble as a bird in spring; making the room echo with shouts of laughter, in the thorough heartiness of which no one surpassed him.

The strange and unhappy mistake of Hazlitt, respecting the effect of his manner and bearing on casual observers, was peculiarly active in regard to women; nor could any evidences, however strong and unequivocal (and the reader will see hereafter that such were far from wanting), remove or weaken this feeling, which amounted to nothing short of a monomania. In proof of this I could, if the nature of the case permitted, allege numerous instances in which the most indisputable marks of female favour

and distinction (whether accorded to his intellectual pretension or not, no matter), were looked upon and resented by him as personal affronts! In his numerous "affairs of the heart" (for, like his favourite, John Buncle, he was always in love with somebody or other), to the fair one's indifference he was indifferent, and continued to love on: if she recognised his homage, and was angry at it, he accepted the token as a kind of involuntary compliment ;-but if she smiled on him, he was confounded, and cured! It was clear that she meant, first to entangle, and then to laugh at and insult him!

I may have some singular matter to unfold in connection with this part of my subject hereafter. In the mean time, the curious reader is growing anxious for the removal of the veil which hides this supposed Mokanna from view. What will he or she say, when, in dropping it, I exhibit a form of excellent symmetry, surmounted by one of the noblest heads and faces that ever symbolled forth a refined, lofty, capacious, and penetrating intellect?

The truth is, that for depth, force, and variety of intellectual expression, a finer head and face than Hazlitt's were never seen. I speak of them when his countenance was not dimmed and obscured by illness, or clouded and deformed by those fearful indications of internal passion, which he never even attempted to conceal. The expression of Hazlitt's face, when anything was said in his presence that seriously offended him, or when any peculiarly painful recollection passed across his mind, was truly awful-more so than can be conceived as within the capacity of the human countenance; except, perhaps, by those who have seen Edmund Kean's Sir Giles Overreach from the front of the pit. But when he was in good health, and in a tolerable humour with himself and the world, his face was more truly and entirely answerable to the intellect that spoke through it, than any other I ever saw, either in life or on canvas; and its crowning portion, the brow and forehead, was, to my thinking, quite unequalled, for mingled capacity and beauty.

For those who desire a more particular description, I will add, that Hazlitt's features, though not cast in any received classical mould, were regular in their formation, perfectly consonant with each other, and so finely "chiselled" (as the phrase is), that they produced a much more prominent and striking effect than their scale of size might have led one to expect.