The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 06 (of 12)

In Short

This volume collects wide-ranging philosophical essays alongside candid conversations recorded inside the studio of an aging portrait painter. The text explores the nature of visual art, the psychology of obsession, political stubbornness, social hypocrisy, and the lingering sting of personal reputation. Through detailed observations of London society, tavern debates, and studio critiques, the writing contrasts mechanical skill with imaginative genius while weighing the tranquility of past memories against the anxiety of future prospects. The narrator evaluates iconic figures from William Shakespeare and John Milton to Napoleon Bonaparte, testing popular opinions against cold experience. The collection has endured because it offers an unvarnished window into nineteenth-century intellectual life, capturing the living voices of artists, writers, and political partisans with directness and psychological acuity. Its strength lies in a refusal to indulge comfortable illusions, demanding that art, politics, and human character be judged by their actual workings rather than their superficial pretenses.

The Story

The volume opens with an examination of artistic creation and internal reflection, setting the stage for a thorough audit of human intellect and social behavior. It begins by investigating the deep satisfaction found in painting, where mechanical execution and mental vision meet, before turning to the balance between memory and expectation. The argument contends that the past, though gone, remains a solid repository of real experience, whereas the future remains a speculative void. From this foundation, the inquiry moves into the nature of mental power, defining genius not as adherence to abstract rules but as a commanding original impulse that bends nature to a specific vision. Rembrandt exemplifies this self-willed focus, whereas Shakespeare stands alone as a Proteus capable of inhabiting every human perspective without warping truth to fit his own ego.

As the discussion expands into social observation, the focus turns toward the absurdities of narrow minds and political dogmatism. Figures like William Cobbett are analyzed for their blustering rhetoric, exposed as bullies who excel in sudden attack but flee when faced with genuine opposition. The narrative surveys individuals consumed by a single obsessive idea, comparing their intellectual rigidity with the precise, effortless mastery of physical performers such as Richer the rope-dancer or Jack Spines the racket-player. These physical achievements demonstrate that true excellence relies on natural alignment and relentless practice rather than abstract theory. The commentary then probes the distortions of domestic and public life, detailing how social pressures force mismatched marriages, how avarice drives testators to hoard wealth into idle monuments for Mammon, and how political figures like George Canning use conservative rhetoric to freeze human progress into an automated defense of existing abuses.

The critique turns sharply toward the art world and the literary establishment, stripping away the pretensions of official institutions and elite social circles. A systematic dissection of Sir Joshua Reynolds's lectures reveals glaring contradictions between his dogmatic rules against specific detail and his actual appreciation for truth in nature. In the literary sphere, the commentary exposes how coteries, publishers, and fashionable salons manufacture spurious reputations through mutual flattery, rewarding submissive conformists while ostracizing independent thinkers. This social critique extends to tavern debates where partisan brawlers like the stubborn Tory E— defend national debts through absurd logic, while figures across the political spectrum react to news of Napoleon Bonaparte’s death based entirely on their own ideological prejudices. Through reflections on effeminacy of character, corporate servility, and the psychological mechanisms of gambling, the text illustrates how human beings routinely substitute comforting illusions for rigorous self-examination.

The second half of the volume transitions into a series of intimate, ongoing dialogues held within the working sanctuary of the painter James Northcote. Here, the formal essay gives way to living speech as Northcote and his visitor debate the comparative merits of historical masters, the commercial exploitation of artists, and the fickle nature of public taste. Northcote offers sharp assessments of portraiture, placing Titian’s uncanny realism above Vandyke’s deliberate pictures and Reynolds’s atmospheric hazes. The conversations trace the practical realities of the art market, mourning how visionary painters like Richard Wilson faced starvation while lesser talents prospered, and condemning booksellers who profit off expired copyrights while authors' families linger in obscurity. The dialogue wanders across the differences between male and female creativity, the fastidiousness that paralyzes over-cautious writers like Prince Hoare, and the anatomy of animals, drawing lessons on natural design from the dissection of an elephant.

Towards its conclusion, the narrative arc unites its analytical essays and studio chats into a quiet, resolute contemplation of mortality and human reputation. Reflections on face reading suggest that physical features reveal genuine character far more accurately than dissembling speeches or deceptive actions. Contemplating the inevitability of death, the prose demystifies non-existence by framing it as a simple return to the calm nonage that preceded birth, no more fearful than the silent sleep of ancient knights in the Temple church. The final studio exchanges circle back to the nature of artistic legacy, observing that unfinished sketches often hold greater value than completed works because they reveal the living mind of the creator in motion. The volume closes on a note of clear-eyed acceptance: public applause remains erratic, authority relies on force where proof is lacking, but authentic work, grounded in natural habit and direct observation, outlasts both the ephemeral praise of coteries and the transient noise of political debate.

How It Unfolds

The mind anchors in the past The volume opens by contrasting the solid reality of remembered experience against the speculative emptiness of the future, warning against abandoning past joys when little else remains. True genius is defined as an intense mental power that illuminates nature, contrasting Rembrandt's self-willed vision with Shakespeare's unmatched capacity to inhabit all human feeling without personal bias or self-serving distortion.

The anatomy of human vanity The critique turns to individual quirks and public bluster, dissecting political commentator William Cobbett as an overbearing bully who excels in attack but collapses under direct resistance. It highlights how men become enslaved by single ideas or hoard wealth into useless heaps for Mammon, contrasting these moral failures with the flawless precision of rope-dancers who must achieve physical perfection or break their necks.

Exposing institutional rhetoric A detailed audit of Sir Joshua Reynolds's academic discourses exposes glaring contradictions between his rigid rules against natural detail and his occasional admission of its expressive power. In the political realm, George Canning's speeches are dismantled to show how conservative rhetoric treats citizens like mechanical automatons, demanding blind submission to time-worn abuses rather than allowing reasonable experiments in social progress.

The bankruptcy of literary coteries The narrative attacks the fashionable world of letters, illustrating how polite circles and commercial publishers manufacture false reputations through mutual flattery while penalizing independent writers. In London taverns, partisan debaters react to news of Napoleon Bonaparte’s death and argue over national debts, relying on contradiction, vanity, and shallow logic to protect their pre-existing political prejudices.

The studio doors open The text transitions into recorded dialogues inside the London painting room of James Northcote, offering candid reflections on art, commercial patronage, and historical reputation. Northcote evaluates the visual mastery of Titian, Vandyke, and Reynolds, while expressing sharp bitterness over how booksellers accumulate fortunes off expired author copyrights while genuine painters face neglect and poverty.

Social prejudice and creative constraint These studio conversations probe the distinct social standing of authors versus painters, highlighting how polite society shrinks from controversial writers like William Godwin despite his moral worth. The dialogue explores why excessive fastidiousness spoils creative vigor, using examples ranging from the editing of Northcote's fables to the natural mechanics observed in the dissection of an elephant.

Effortless mastery and physical grace The commentary examines how true physical excellence, exemplified by racket-player John Davies, relies on unconscious natural habit and full frame movement rather than rigid rule-following. It notes that while mechanical arts can be perfected through continuous physical repetition, intellectual and artistic pursuits remain subject to endless debate because their standards cannot be reduced to simple physical tests.

Authority where proof is absent Northcote and his companion analyze how public opinion is manufactured, observing that where clear mathematical or visual proof is lacking, authority and state-enforced dogmatism step in to compel agreement. They contend that men fight most fiercely over doctrines that lack evidence, propping up weak institutions through artificial intolerance rather than allowing individuals to judge freely.

Facing the quiet ending The volume closes with a tranquil meditation on mortality, arguing that dying is simply returning to the calm, care-free nonage that preceded birth. Final studio reflections observe that unfinished studies and raw sketches often bring us closer to an artist's living mind than finished canvases, leaving a lasting testament to authentic creative effort over worldly applause.

The People

William Hazlitt acts as the central inquiring mind throughout the volume, seeking to strip away social pretense, political hypocrisy, and literary dishonesty through unvarnished critical inquiry. He desires intellectual independence and genuine artistic recognition, but finds his path repeatedly blocked by malicious reviews, literary coteries, and the shallow conventions of polite society. Through his reflections on memory, political decay, and mortality, he emerges not as a bitter recluse, but as a resolute observer who finds solace in past recollections, honest conversation, and uncompromising truth.

James Northcote, an aging Royal Academician, wants to preserve the integrity of fine art, share his sharp observations on human nature, and secure a lasting creative legacy. He is frustrated by greedy booksellers, meddling patrons who dictate subject matter, and a public market that favors superficial novelties over true painterly feeling. Within the quiet refuge of his London studio, Northcote navigates his declining health and sharp temper, ultimately finding comfort in the belief that posterity will recognize genuine artistry and that his unfinished sketches will keep his living spirit connected to future generations.

William Cobbett enters the text as a prominent political writer who desires total dominance in public debate through aggressive verbal attacks. His pursuit of undisputed authority is thwarted by his own moral cowardice and inability to endure criticism or competitive struggle. When turned upon by opponents, he routinely flees the field, revealing himself to be an overbearing bully whose loud public stance conceals an fragile ego incapable of fighting an uphill battle.

George Canning is framed as a powerful statesman who aims to safeguard the British monarchy and block all democratic reform in the name of historical stability. His political project is hindered by the inherent absurdity of his own logic, which relies on past struggles to justify present stagnation. The critique reduces him to an defender of inveterate abuses who demands that citizens surrender their intellects and function as passive political automatons.

Sir Joshua Reynolds appears as an influential master who seeks to codify the principles of grand art by steering painters away from specific natural details. His theoretical ambitions are undermined by the glaring contradictions within his own published discourses and his total inability to teach his subtle, intuitive methods to students. He remains an enduring figure not because of his rigid academic rules, but because his innate genius and feeling for nature repeatedly broke through his flawed theories.

In Its Own Voice

Explaining why mechanical performers like tightrope dancers achieve a level of flawless perfection that intellectual workers rarely match, the essayist highlights the immediate physical consequences of making a mistake.

‘If the rope-dancer had performed his task in this manner, leaving so many gaps and botches in his work, he would have broke his neck long ago; I should never have seen that vigorous elasticity of nerve and precision of movement!’

In evaluating the unique nature of poetic creation, the text contrasts William Shakespeare's universal empathy with the narrow, self-absorbed focus that characterizes most creative minds.

Genius in ordinary is a more obstinate and less versatile thing. It is sufficiently exclusive and self-willed, quaint and peculiar. It does some one thing by virtue of doing nothing else: it excels in some one pursuit by being blind to all excellence but its own.

Reflecting on the tranquil state of non-existence that preceded human birth, the author questions why individuals view their inevitable return to final rest with such intense anxiety and dread.

To die is only to be as we were before we were born; yet no one feels any remorse, or regret, or repugnance, in contemplating this last idea. It is rather a relief and disburthening of the mind: it seems to have been holiday-time with us then: we were not called to appear upon the stage of life, to wear robes or tatters, to laugh or cry, be hooted or applauded; we had lain perdus all this while, snug, out of harm’s way; and had slept out our thousands of centuries without wanting to be waked up; at peace and free from care, in a long nonage, in a sleep deeper and calmer than that of infancy, wrapped in the softest and finest dust.

What It's Really About

Beneath its lively cultural critiques and studio anecdotes, this volume investigates the conflict between authentic human nature and artificial social constructs. The overarching argument asserts that genuine achievement—whether in fine art, literature, or physical action—demands direct sympathy with reality rather than compliance with arbitrary rules or institutional authority. The text repeatedly questions why individuals surrender their independent judgment to political cliques, academic dogmas, and the hollow flattery of polite society, showing how vanity and prejudice lead men to defend obvious absurdities.

Another central theme is the tension between sensibility and will. Through analyses of effeminacy, gambling, and avarice, the book illustrates how weak character stems from an inability to endure immediate discomfort for long-term integrity. Worldly power and official status are shown to be superficial trappings that frequently mask intellectual poverty, while true greatness resides in an unyielding commitment to original perception. Finally, the volume meditates on time, memory, and mortality, arguing that human fulfillment requires honoring the concrete reality of past experience rather than chasing illusory future promises. By placing studio dialogues alongside philosophical essays, the work ultimately asks how an individual can preserve intellectual honesty, emotional depth, and personal dignity in a world governed by commercial interest and collective illusion.

Why Read It Today

Readers who relish incisive prose, unsparing cultural criticism, and intimate glimpses into historical art circles will find this collection deeply rewarding. Reading it feels like sitting in a bustling nineteenth-century London coffeehouse or studio, listening to a brilliantly articulate, uncompromising observer dissect the celebrities, politics, and aesthetic debates of his day. The prose possesses a muscular, rhythmic momentum, balancing sharp psychological insight with vivid concrete imagery. What stays with the reader is the author's passionate insistence on intellectual independence and his acute ability to spot hypocrisy behind high-sounding principles.

However, modern readers must navigate specific challenges embedded in the period text. The volume assumes a high degree of familiarity with nineteenth-century British politics, forgotten literary feuds, and classical art history, frequently using abbreviated names or untranslated Latin phrases that require patient attention. Furthermore, the prose reflects nineteenth-century prejudices, particularly in period attitudes toward women's intellectual capacities, where dialogue explicitly claims female artists lack muscular vigor or original strength. Additionally, the essay structures can feel sprawling, occasionally wandering through dense philosophical tangents or long lists of artistic comparisons before arriving at their central point.

Despite these hurdles, the volume remains remarkably fresh because the human flaws it targets—political tribalism, literary posturing, elite snobbery, and the hoarding of wealth—are as prevalent now as they were two centuries ago. The dialogues with James Northcote offer an unusually human portrait of artistic ambition, capturing the vulnerability, pride, and practical struggles of working creators. Ultimately, the collection serves as a powerful antidote to intellectual conformity, reminding modern readers that true critical thinking requires the courage to challenge prevailing opinions, trust direct observation, and value authentic human experience above worldly applause.