Editing William Hazlitt (section)

===Return to philosophy, second marriage, and tour of Europe (1823–1825)===

====Philosopher, again====
There were times in this turbulent period when Hazlitt could not focus on his work. But often, as in his self-imposed seclusion at Winterslow, he was able to achieve a "philosophic detachment",<ref>"Hazlitt seemed to have achieved a detached, yet humane, posture as he regarded the world about him. He spoke as a philosopher in retirement rather than a bitter recluse". Wardle, p. 274.</ref> and he continued to turn out essays of remarkable variety and literary merit, most of them making up the two volumes of ''Table-Talk''. (A number were saved for later publication in ''The Plain Speaker'' in 1826, while others remained uncollected.)

Some of these essays were in large part retrospectives on the author's own life ("On Reading Old Books" [1821], for example, along with others mentioned above). In others, he invites his readers to join him in gazing at the spectacle of human folly and perversity ("On Will-making" [1821], or "On Great and Little Things" [1821], for example). At times he scrutinises the subtle workings of the individual mind (as in "On Dreams" [1823]); or he invites us to laugh at harmless eccentricities of human nature ("On People with One Idea" [1821]).

Other essays bring into perspective the scope and limitations of the mind, as measured against the vastness of the universe and the extent of human history ("Why Distant Objects Please" [1821/2] and "On Antiquity" [1821] are only two of many). Several others scrutinise the manners and morals of the age (such as "On Vulgarity and Affectation", "On Patronage and Puffing", and "On Corporate Bodies" [all 1821]).

Many of these "Table-Talk" essays display Hazlitt's interest in genius and artistic creativity. There are specific instances of literary or art criticism (for example "On a Landscape of Nicolas Poussin" [1821] and "On Milton's Sonnets" [1822]) but also numerous investigations of the psychology of creativity and genius ("On Genius and Common Sense" [1821], "Whether Genius Is Conscious of Its Powers" [1823], and others).<ref>For a comparison of Hazlitt's and [[Immanuel Kant]]'s ideas about genius, see Milnes, pp. 133ff.</ref> In his manner of exploring an idea by antitheses (for example, "On the Past and the Future" [1821], "On the Picturesque and Ideal" [1821]),<ref>See Wardle, p. 282.</ref> he contrasts the utmost achievements of human mechanical skill with the nature of artistic creativity in "The Indian Jugglers" [1821].

Hazlitt's fascination with the extremes of human capability in any field led to his writing "The Fight" (published in the February 1822 ''[[The New Monthly Magazine|New Monthly Magazine]]'').<ref>[https://books.google.com/books?id=_7cCAAAAIAAJ&dq=The%20New%20Monthly%20Magazine%201822&pg=PA102 ''The New Monthly Magazine'', vol. 3 (January–June, 1822), pp. 102–12], at Google Books.</ref> This essay never appeared in the Table-Talk series or anywhere else in the author's lifetime. This direct, personal account of a prize fight, commingling refined literary allusions with popular slang,<ref name="Robinson 1999, p.168">Robinson 1999, p.168.</ref> was controversial in its time as depicting too "low" a subject.<ref>Cyrus Redding, assistant editor of the ''New Monthly Magazine'' was scandalized: "It was a thoroughly blackguard subject...disgracing our literature in the eye of other nations", he later wrote. Quoted by Wardle, p. 302.</ref> Written at a dismal time in his life—Hazlitt's divorce was pending, and he was far from sure of being able to marry Sarah Walker—the article shows scarcely a trace of his agony. Not quite like any other essay by Hazlitt, it proved to be one of his most popular, was frequently reprinted after his death, and nearly two centuries later was judged to be "one of the most passionately written pieces of prose in the late Romantic period".<ref name="Robinson 1999, p.168"/>

Another article written in this period, "[[On the Pleasure of Hating]]" (1823; included in ''The Plain Speaker''), is on one level a pure outpouring of spleen, a distillation of all the bitterness of his life to that point. He links his own vitriol, however, to a strain of malignity at the core of human nature:
<blockquote>
The pleasure of hating, like a poisonous mineral, eats into the heart of religion, and turns it to rankling spleen and bigotry; it makes patriotism an excuse for carrying fire, pestilence, and famine into other lands: it leaves to virtue nothing but the spirit of censoriousness, and a narrow, jealous, inquisitorial watchfulness over the actions and motives of others.<ref>''Works'', vol. 12, p. 130. Quoted by Gregory Dart; see Dart 1999, p. 233.</ref>
</blockquote>
To one twentieth-century critic, Gregory Dart, this self-diagnosis by Hazlitt of his own misanthropic enmities was the sour and surreptitiously preserved offspring of [[Reign of Terror|Jacobinism]].<ref>Dart 1999, p. 233.</ref> Hazlitt concludes his diatribe by refocusing on himself: "...have I not reason to hate and to despise myself? Indeed I do; and chiefly for not having hated and despised the world enough".<ref>''Works'', vol. 12, p. 136. See also Maclean (pp. 500–2), who considers this "the most powerful" of Hazlitt's essays of the period.</ref>

Not only do the "Table-Talk" essays frequently display "trenchant insights into human nature",<ref>Wardle, p. 272, speaking in particular of "On the Conversation of Authors" (1820).</ref> they at times reflect on the vehicle of those insights and of the literary and art criticism that constitute some of the essays. "On Criticism" (1821) delves into the history and purposes of criticism itself; and "On Familiar Style" (1821 or 1822) reflexively explores at some length the principles behind its own composition, along with that of other essays of this kind by Hazlitt and some of his contemporaries, like Lamb and Cobbett.

In ''Table-Talk'', Hazlitt had found the most congenial format for this thoughts and observations. A broad panorama of the triumphs and follies of humanity, an exploration of the quirks of the mind, of the nobility but more often the meanness and sheer malevolence of human nature, the collection was knit together by a web of self-consistent thinking, a skein of ideas woven from a lifetime of close reasoning on life, art, and literature.<ref>A body of interconnected philosophic beliefs underlies most of Hazlitt's writing, including his familiar essays. See Schneider, "William Hazlitt", p. 94.</ref> He illustrated his points with bright imagery and pointed analogies, among which were woven pithy quotations drawn from the history of English literature, primarily the poets, from Chaucer to his contemporaries Wordsworth, [[George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron|Byron]], and Keats.<ref>Most critics, according to Elisabeth Schneider, summing up the critical literature on Hazlitt as of 1966, have felt that these "quotations endow what he is saying with a richness of association that justifies their presence; they were, moreover, his natural way of thinking and not usually a deliberate adornment". Schneider, "William Hazlitt", p. 112.</ref> Most often, he quoted his beloved Shakespeare and to a lesser extent Milton. As he explained in "On Familiar Style", he strove to fit the exact words to the things he wanted to express and often succeeded—in a way that would bring home his meaning to any literate person of some education and intelligence.<ref>''Works'', vol. 9, pp. 242–48.</ref>

These essays were not quite like anything ever done before. They attracted some admiration during Hazlitt's lifetime, but it was only long after his death that their reputation achieved full stature, increasingly often considered among the best essays ever written in English.<ref>It has been noted, however, that, only a few years after publication, they may have furnished a model for [[Alexander Pushkin|Pushkin]]'s historical anecdotes. Lednicki, p. 5. Twenty-first century critic Tim Killick has also noted that even around the end of Hazlitt's life, the intimate style and succinct narration found in these essays set a tone markedly new, displacing the lingering vogue of stilted Johnsonian periods, influencing not only nonfiction but also the genre of short fiction. Killick, pp. 20–21.</ref> Nearly two centuries after they were written, for example, biographer Stanley Jones deemed Hazlitt's ''Table-Talk'' and ''The Plain Speaker'' together to constitute "the major work of his life",<ref>Jones, p. 318.</ref> and critic [[David Bromwich]] called many of these essays "more observing, original, and keen-witted than any others in the language".<ref>Bromwich, p. 347.</ref>

In 1823, Hazlitt also published anonymously ''Characteristics: In the Manner of Rochefoucault's Maxims'', a collection of aphorisms modelled explicitly, as Hazlitt noted in his preface, on the ''Maximes'' (1665–1693) of the [[François de La Rochefoucauld (writer)|Duc de La Rochefoucauld]]. Never quite as cynical as La Rochefoucauld's, many, however, reflect his attitude of disillusionment at this stage of his life.<ref>Wardle (citing Stewart C. Wilcox, in the ''Modern Language Quarterly'', vol. 9 [1948], pp. 418–23), p. 366.</ref> Primarily, these 434 maxims took to an extreme his method of arguing by paradoxes and acute contrasts. For example, maxim "CCCCXXVIII":

<blockquote>
There are some persons who never succeed, from being too indolent to undertake anything; and others who regularly fail, because the instant they find success in their power, they grow indifferent, and give over the attempt.<ref>''Works'', vol. 9, p. 228.</ref>
</blockquote>

But they also lacked the benefit of Hazlitt's extended reasoning and lucid imagery, and were never included among his greatest works.<ref>As George Sampson, a later editor of Hazlitt's essays, expressed it, this book "cannot be called entirely successful. Hazlitt's best aphorisms are to be found scattered in profusion up and down his longer essays; his deliberate attempts at epigram are more like excised paragraphs than the stamped and coined utterance of genuine aphorism." See the "Introduction" to Sampson, p. xxxii.</ref>

====Recovery and second marriage====
At the beginning of 1824, though worn out by thwarted passion and the venomous attacks on his character following ''Liber Amoris'', Hazlitt was beginning to recover his equilibrium.<ref>Jones, pp. 341–43. Wardle, pp. 377–378.</ref> Pressed for money as always, he continued to write for various periodicals, including ''The Edinburgh Review''. To ''The New Monthly Magazine'' he supplied more essays in the "Table-Talk" manner, and he produced some art criticism, published in that year as ''Sketches of the Principal Picture Galleries of England''.

He also found relief, finally, from the Sarah Walker imbroglio. In 1823, Hazlitt had met Isabella Bridgwater (''née'' Shaw), who married him in March or April 1824, of necessity in Scotland, as Hazlitt's divorce was not recognised in England. Little is known about this Scottish-born widow of the Chief Justice of [[Grenada]], or about her interaction with Hazlitt. She may have been attracted to the idea of marrying a well-known author. For Hazlitt, she offered an escape from loneliness and to an extent from financial worries, as she possessed an independent income of £300 per annum. The arrangement seems to have had a strong element of convenience for both of them. Certainly Hazlitt nowhere in his writings suggests that this marriage was the love match he had been seeking, nor does he mention his new wife at all. In fact, after three and half years, tensions likely resulting from (as Stanley Jones put it) Hazlitt's "improvidence", his son's dislike of her, and neglect of his wife due to his obsessive absorption in preparing an immense biography of Napoleon, resulted in her abrupt departure, and they never lived together again.<ref>Wardle, p. 381. For a full account of what is known about Hazlitt's marriage to Isabella Bridgwater, see Jones, pp. 348–64. Stanley Jones first discovered Isabella Hazlitt's background and maiden name only in the late twentieth century.</ref>

For now, in any case, the union afforded the two of them the opportunity to travel. First, they toured parts of Scotland, then, later in 1824, began a European tour lasting over a year.

====''The Spirit of the Age''====
{{main|The Spirit of the Age}}
[[File:William Hazlitt portrait.jpg|thumb|William Hazlitt in 1825 (engraving derived from a chalk sketch by [[William Bewick]]).]]

Before Hazlitt and his new bride set off for the continent, he submitted, among the miscellany of essays that year, one to the ''New Monthly'' on "Jeremy Bentham", the first in a series entitled "Spirits of the Age". Several more of the kind followed over the next few months, at least one in ''The Examiner''. Together with some newly written, and one brought in from the "Table-Talk" series, they were collected in book form in 1825 as ''The Spirit of the Age: Or, Contemporary Portraits''.

These sketches of twenty-five men, prominent or otherwise notable as characteristic of the age, came easily to Hazlitt.<ref>As he explains in "On Application to Study", written around this time, his ideas "cost me a great deal twenty years ago". But now he is able to copy out the results of prior study and thought "mechanically". "I do not say they came there mechanically—I transcribe them to paper mechanically".''Works'', vol. 12, p. 62.</ref> In his days as a political reporter he had observed many of them at close range. Others he knew personally, and for years their philosophy or poetry had been the subject of his thoughts and lectures.

There were philosophers, social reformers, poets, politicians, and a few who did not fall neatly into any of these categories. Bentham, Godwin, and Malthus, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Byron were some of the most prominent writers; [[William Wilberforce|Wilberforce]] and [[George Canning|Canning]] were prominent in the political arena; and a few who were hard to classify, such as [[Edward Irving|The Rev. Edward Irving]], the preacher, [[William Gifford]], the satirist and critic, and the recently deceased [[John Horne Tooke|Horne Tooke]], a lawyer, politician, grammarian, and wit.

Many of the sketches presented their subjects as seen in daily life. We witness, for example, Bentham "tak[ing] a turn in his garden" with a guest, espousing his plans for "a code of laws 'for some island in the watery waste'", or playing the organ as a relief from incessant musings on vast schemes to improve the lot of mankind. As Bentham's neighbour for some years, Hazlitt had had good opportunity to observe the reformer and philosopher at first hand.<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 6.</ref>

He had already devoted years to pondering much of the thinking espoused by several of these figures. Thoroughly immersed in the [[Malthusian controversy]], for example, Hazlitt had published ''A Reply to the Essay on Population'' as early as 1807,<ref>''Works'', vol. 1, pp. 177–364.</ref> and the essay on Malthus is a distillation of Hazlitt's earlier criticisms.

Where he finds it applicable, Hazlitt brings his subjects together in pairs, setting off one against the other, although sometimes his complex comparisons bring out unexpected similarities, as well as differences, between temperaments that otherwise appear to be at opposite poles, as in his reflections on Scott and Byron.<ref>Gilmartin, pp. 3–8.</ref> So too he points out that, for all the limitations of Godwin's reasoning, as given in that essay, Malthus comes off worse: "Nothing...could be more illogical...than the whole of Mr. Malthus's reasoning applied as an answer...to Mr. Godwin's book".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 105.</ref> Most distasteful to Hazlitt was the application of "Mr. Malthus's 'gospel'", greatly influential at the time. Many in positions of power had used Malthus's theory to deny the poor relief in the name of the public good, to prevent their propagating the species beyond the means to support it; while on the rich no restraints whatsoever were imposed.<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 111.</ref>

Yet, softening the asperities of his critique, Hazlitt rounds out his sketch by conceding that "Mr. Malthus's style is correct and elegant; his tone of controversy mild and gentlemanly; and the care with which he has brought his facts and documents together, deserves the highest praise".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 114.</ref>

His portraits of such Tory politicians as [[John Scott, 1st Earl of Eldon|Lord Eldon]] are unrelenting, as might be expected. But elsewhere his characterisations are more balanced, more even-tempered, than similar accounts in past years. Notably, there are portraits of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey, which are, to an extent, essences of his former thoughts about these poets—and those thoughts had been profuse. He had earlier directed some of his most vitriolic attacks against them for having replaced the humanistic and revolutionary ideas of their earlier years with staunch support of the Establishment. Now he goes out of his way to qualify his earlier assessments.

In "Mr. Wordsworth", for example, Hazlitt notes that "it has been said of Mr. Wordsworth, that 'he hates conchology, that he hates the Venus of Medicis.'..." (Hazlitt's own words in an article some years back). Indirectly apologising for his earlier tirade, Hazlitt here brings in a list of writers and artists, like Milton and [[Nicolas Poussin|Poussin]], for whom Wordsworth did show appreciation.<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, pp. 93–94, 339.</ref>

Coleridge, whom Hazlitt had once idolised, gets special attention, but, again, with an attempt to moderate earlier criticisms. At an earlier time Hazlitt had dismissed most of Coleridge's prose as "dreary trash".<ref>''Works'', vol. 5, p. 167.</ref> Much of ''The Friend'' was "sophistry".<ref>''Works'', vol. 7, p. 106.</ref> The ''Statesman's Manual'' was not to be read "with any patience".<ref>''Works'', vol. 7, p. 126.</ref> ''A Lay Sermon'' was enough to "make a fool...of any man".<ref>''Works'', vol. 7, p. 129.</ref> For betraying their earlier liberal principles, both Coleridge and Southey were "sworn brothers in the same cause of righteous apostacy".<ref>''Works'', vol. 19, p. 197.</ref>

Now, again, the harshness is softened, and the focus shifts to Coleridge's positive attributes. One of the most learned and brilliant men of the age, Coleridge may not be its greatest writer—but he is its "most impressive talker".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 30.</ref> Even his "apostacy" is somewhat excused by noting that in recent times, when "Genius stopped the way of Legitimacy...it was to be...crushed",<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 37.</ref> regrettably but understandably leading many former liberals to protect themselves by siding with the powers that be.<ref>"By 1825, Hazlitt was able to regard [Coleridge's abandonment of his earlier views regarding his own poetry] with a greater air of detachment" than in the earlier reviews. Park, p. 234.</ref>

Southey, whose political about-face was more blatant than that of the others, still comes in for a measure of biting criticism: "not truth, but self-opinion is the ruling principle of Mr. Southey's mind".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 79.</ref> Yet Hazlitt goes out of his way to admire where he can. For example, "Mr. Southey's prose-style can scarcely be too much praised", and "In all the relations and charities of private life, he is correct, exemplary, generous, just".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, pp. 84–85.</ref>

Hazlitt contrasts Scott and Byron; he skewers his nemesis Gifford; he praises—not without his usual strictures—Jeffrey; and goes on to portray, in one way or another, such notables as [[James Mackintosh|Mackintosh]], [[Henry Brougham, 1st Baron Brougham and Vaux|Brougham]], Canning, and Wilberforce.

His praise of the poet [[Thomas Campbell (poet)|Thomas Campbell]] has been cited as one major instance where Hazlitt's critical judgement proved wrong. Hazlitt can scarcely conceal his enthusiasm for such poems as [[Gertrude of Wyoming]], but neither the poems nor Hazlitt's judgement of them have withstood the test of time.<ref>"The subjects of some [of these essays], like Thomas Campbell, seem hardly to deserve the praise which Hazlitt accords them", wrote Ralph Wardle (p. 406), in 1971.</ref> His friends Hunt and Lamb get briefer coverage, and—Hazlitt was never one to mince words—they come in for some relatively gentle chiding amid the praise. One American author makes an appearance, [[Washington Irving]], under his pen name of Geoffrey Crayon.

In this manner twenty-five character sketches combine to "form a vivid panorama of the age".<ref>Wardle, p. 406.</ref> Through it all, the author reflects on the Spirit of the Age as a whole, as, for example, "The present is an age of talkers, and not of doers; and the reason is, that the world is growing old. We are so far advanced in the Arts and Sciences, that we live in retrospect, and doat on past achievements".<ref>''Works'', vol. 11, p. 28.</ref>

Some critics have thought the essays in ''The Spirit of the Age'' highly uneven in quality and somewhat hastily thrown together, at best "a series of perceptive but disparate and impressionistic sketches of famous contemporaries". It has also been noted, however, that the book is more than a mere portrait gallery. A pattern of ideas ties them together. No thesis is overtly stated, but some thoughts are developed consistently throughout.

Roy Park has noted in particular Hazlitt's critique of excessive abstraction as a major flaw in the period's dominant philosophy and poetry. ("Abstraction", in this case, could be that of religion or mysticism as well as science.) This is the reason, according to Hazlitt, why neither Coleridge, nor Wordsworth, nor Byron could write effective drama. More representative of the finer spirit of the age was poetry that turned inward, focusing on individual perceptions, projections of the poets' sensibilities. The greatest of this type of poetry was Wordsworth's, and that succeeded as far as any contemporary writing could.<ref>Park, pp. 213–15.</ref>

Even if it took a century and a half for many of the book's virtues to be realised, enough was recognised at the time to make the book one of Hazlitt's most successful. Unsurprisingly the Tory ''Blackwood's Magazine'' lamented that the pillory had fallen into disuse and wondered what "adequate and appropriate punishment there is that we can inflict on this rabid caitiff".<ref name="Quoted in Wardle, p. 407">Quoted in Wardle, p. 407.</ref> But the majority of the reviewers were enthusiastic. For example, the ''Eclectic Review'' marvelled at his ability to "hit off a likeness with a few artist-like touches" and ''[[The Gentleman's Magazine]]'', with a few reservations, found his style "deeply impregnated with the spirit of the masters of our language, and strengthened by a rich infusion of golden ore...".<ref name="Quoted in Wardle, p. 407"/>

====European tour====
On 1 September 1824, Hazlitt and his wife began a tour of the European continent, crossing the [[English Channel]] by steamboat from [[Brighton]] to [[Dieppe]] and proceeding from there by coach and sometimes on foot to Paris and [[Lyon]], crossing the [[Alps]] in Savoy, then continuing through [[Italy]] to [[Florence]] and Rome, the most southerly point on their route. Crossing the [[Apennine Mountains|Apennines]], they travelled to [[Venice]], [[Verona]], and [[Milan]], then into [[Switzerland]] to [[Vevey]] and [[Geneva]]. Finally they returned via Germany, the [[Netherlands]], Belgium, and France again, arriving at [[Dover]], England, on 16 October 1825.<ref>See Wardle, pp. 391–425, for an extensive account of this tour, and Jones, pp. 364–72, for numerous additional details.</ref>

There were two extended stops on this excursion: Paris, where the Hazlitts remained for three months; and Vevey, Switzerland, where they rented space in a farmhouse for three months. During those lengthy pauses, Hazlitt accomplished some writing tasks, primarily submitting an account of his trip in several instalments to ''The Morning Chronicle'', which helped to pay for the trip. These articles were later collected and published in book form in 1826 as ''Notes of a Journey through France and Italy'' (despite the title, there is also much about the other countries he visited, particularly Switzerland).

This was an escape for a time from all the conflicts, the bitter reactions to his outspoken criticisms, and the attacks on his own publications back in England. And, despite interludes of illness, as well as the miseries of coach travel and the dishonesty of some hotel keepers and coach drivers, Hazlitt managed to enjoy himself. He reacted to his sight of Paris like a child entering a fairyland: "The approach to the capital on the side of St. Germain's is one continued succession of imposing beauty and artificial splendour, of groves, of avenues, of bridges, of palaces, and of towns like palaces, all the way to Paris, where the sight of the [[Tuileries Palace|Thuilleries]] completes the triumph of external magnificence...."<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 105.</ref>

He remained with his wife in Paris for more than three months, eagerly exploring the museums, attending the theatres, wandering the streets, and mingling with the people. He was especially glad to be able to return to the Louvre and revisit the masterpieces he had adored twenty years earlier, recording for his readers all of his renewed impressions of canvases by [[Guido Cagnacci|Guido]], Poussin, and Titian, among others.<ref>Wardle, pp. 394–96.</ref>

He also was pleased to meet and befriend Henri Beyle, now better known by his ''nom de plume'' of [[Stendhal]], who had discovered much to like in Hazlitt's writings, as Hazlitt had in his.<ref>Wardle, pp. 396–99; Jones, pp. 367–68.</ref>

Finally he and his wife resumed the journey to Italy. As they advanced slowly in those days of pre-railway travel (at one stage taking nearly a week to cover less than two hundred miles),<ref>Wardle, p. 414.</ref> Hazlitt registered a running commentary on the scenic points of interest. On the road between Florence and Rome, for example,

<blockquote>
:Towards the close of the first day's journey ... we had a splendid view of the country we were to travel, which lay stretched out beneath our feet to an immense distance, as we descended into the little town of Pozzo Borgo. Deep valleys sloped on each side of us, from which the smoke of cottages occasionally curled: the branches of an overhanging birch-tree or a neighbouring ruin gave relief to the grey, misty landscape, which was streaked by dark pine-forests, and speckled by the passing clouds; and in the extreme distance rose a range of hills glittering in the evening sun, and scarcely distinguishable from the ridge of clouds that hovered near them.<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 227.</ref>
</blockquote>

Hazlitt, in the words of Ralph Wardle, "never stopped observing and comparing. He was an unabashed sightseer who wanted to take in everything available, and he could recreate vividly all he saw".<ref>Wardle, p. 396.</ref>

Yet frequently he showed himself to be more than a mere sightseer, with the painter, critic, and philosopher in him asserting their influence in turn or at once. A splendid scene on the shore of [[Lake Geneva]], for example, viewed with the eye of both painter and art critic, inspired the following observation: "The lake shone like a broad golden mirror, reflecting the thousand dyes of the fleecy purple clouds, while [[Saint-Gingolph, Switzerland|Saint Gingolph]], with its clustering habitations, shewed like a dark pitchy spot by its side; and beyond the glimmering verge of the [[Jura Mountains|Jura]] ... hovered gay wreaths of clouds, fair, lovely, visionary, that seemed not of this world....No person can describe the effect; but so in [[Claude Lorrain|Claude]]'s landscapes the evening clouds drink up the rosy light, and sink into soft repose!"<ref name="''Works'', vol. 10, p. 289">''Works'', vol. 10, p. 289.</ref>

Likewise, the philosopher in Hazlitt emerges in his account of the following morning: "We had a pleasant walk the next morning along the side of the lake under the grey cliffs, the green hills and azure sky....the snowy ridges that seemed close to us at Vevey receding farther into a kind of lofty background as we advanced.... The speculation of Bishop Berkeley, or some other philosopher, that distance is measured by motion and not by the sight, is verified here at every step".<ref name="''Works'', vol. 10, p. 289"/>

He was also constantly considering the manners of the people and the differences between the English and the French (and later, to a lesser extent, the Italians and Swiss). Did the French really have a "butterfly, airy, thoughtless, fluttering character"?<ref name="''Works'', vol. 10, p. 114">''Works'', vol. 10, p. 114.</ref> He was forced to revise his opinions repeatedly. In some ways the French seemed superior to his countrymen. Unlike the English, he discovered, the French attended the theatre reverently, respectfully, "the attention ... like that of a learned society to a lecture on some scientific subject".<ref name="''Works'', vol. 10, p. 114"/> And he found culture more widespread among the working classes: "You see an apple-girl in Paris, sitting at a stall with her feet over a stove in the coldest weather, or defended from the sun by an umbrella, reading Racine and Voltaire".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 118.</ref>

Trying to be honest with himself, and every day discovering something new about French manners that confounded his preconceptions, Hazlitt was soon compelled to retract some of his old prejudices. "In judging of nations, it will not do to deal in mere abstractions", he concluded. "In countries, as well as individuals, there is a mixture of good and bad qualities; yet we attempt to strike a general balance, and compare the rules with the exceptions".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 101.</ref>

As he had befriended Stendhal in Paris, so in Florence, besides visiting the picture galleries, he struck up a friendship with [[Walter Savage Landor]]. He also spent much time with his old friend Leigh Hunt, now in residence there.<ref>Wardle, p. 411.</ref>

Hazlitt was ambivalent about Rome, the farthest point of his journey. His first impression was one of disappointment. He had expected primarily the monuments of antiquity. But, he asked, "what has a green-grocer's stall, a stupid English china warehouse, a putrid ''trattoria'', a barber's sign, an old clothes or old picture shop or a Gothic palace ... to do with ancient Rome?"<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 232.</ref> Further, "the picture galleries at Rome disappointed me quite".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 237.</ref> Eventually he found plenty to admire, but the accumulation of monuments of art in one place was almost too much for him, and there were also too many distractions. There were the "pride, pomp, and pageantry" of the Catholic religion,<ref>''Works'', vol. 17, p. 139.</ref> as well as having to cope with the "inconvenience of a stranger's residence at Rome....You want some shelter from the insolence and indifference of the inhabitants....You have to squabble with every one about you to prevent being cheated, to drive a hard bargain in order to live, to keep your hands and your tongue within strict bounds, for fear of being stilettoed, or thrown into the Tower of St. Angelo, or remanded home. You have much to do to avoid the contempt of the inhabitants....You must run the gauntlet of sarcastic words or looks for a whole street, of laughter or want of comprehension in reply to all the questions you ask....<ref>These were his reminiscences two years later in the article "English Students at Rome", ''Works'', vol. 17, p. 142.</ref>

Venice presented fewer difficulties, and was a scene of special fascination for him: "You see Venice rising from the sea", he wrote, "its long line of spires, towers, churches, wharfs ... stretched along the water's edge, and you view it with a mixture of awe and incredulity".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, pp. 266–67.</ref> The palaces were incomparable: "I never saw palaces anywhere but at Venice".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 268.</ref> Of equal or even greater importance to him were the paintings. Here there were numerous masterpieces by his favourite painter Titian, whose studio he visited, as well as others by [[Paolo Veronese|Veronese]], [[Giorgione]], [[Tintoretto]], and more.<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, pp. 269–74; Wardle, p. 416.</ref>

On the way home, crossing the Swiss Alps, Hazlitt particularly desired to see the town of Vevey, the scene of Rousseau's 1761 novel ''[[Julie, or the New Heloise|La Nouvelle Héloïse]]'', a love story that he associated with his disappointed love for Sarah Walker.<ref>Jones, pp. 369. For an account of Hazlitt's attitude toward Rousseau from a perspective very different from Hazlitt's own, see Duffy, pp. 70–81.</ref> He was so enchanted with the region even apart from its personal and literary associations that he remained there with his wife for three months, renting a floor of a farmhouse named "Gelamont" outside of town, where "every thing was perfectly clean and commodious".<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 285.</ref> The place was for the most part an oasis of tranquility for Hazlitt. As he reported:

<blockquote>
:Days, weeks, months, and even years might have passed on much in the same manner.... We breakfasted at the same hour, and the tea-kettle was always boiling...; a ''lounge'' in the orchard for an hour or two, and twice a week we could see the steam-boat creeping like a spider over the surface of the lake; a volume of the Scotch novels..., or [[Giovanni Antonio Galignani|M. Galignani]]'s Paris and London ''Observer'', amused us till dinner time; then tea and a walk till the moon unveiled itself, "apparent queen of the night," or the brook, swoln with a transient shower, was heard more distinctly in the darkness, mingling with the soft, rustling breeze; and the next morning the song of peasants broke upon refreshing sleep, as the sun glanced among the clustering vine-leaves, or the shadowy hills, as the mists retired from their summits, looked in at our windows.<ref>''Works'', vol. 10, p. 287.</ref>
</blockquote>

Hazlitt's time at Vevey was not passed entirely in a waking dream. As at Paris, and sometimes other stopping points such as Florence, he continued to write, producing one or two essays later included in ''The Plain Speaker'', as well as some miscellaneous pieces. A side trip to Geneva during this period led him to a review of his ''Spirit of the Age'', by Francis Jeffrey, in which the latter takes him to task for striving too hard after originality. As much as Hazlitt respected Jeffrey, this hurt (perhaps the more because of his respect), and Hazlitt, to work off his angry feelings, dashed off the only verse from his pen that has ever come to light, "The Damned Author's Address to His Reviewers", published anonymously on 18 September 1825, in the ''London and Paris Observer'', and ending with the bitterly sardonic lines, "And last, to make my measure full,/Teach me, great J[effre]y, to be dull!"<ref>''Works'', vol. 20, p. 393; Wardle, p. 422; Jones, p. 372.</ref>

Much of his time, however, was spent in a mellow mood. At this time he wrote "Merry England" (which appeared in the December 1825 ''New Monthly Magazine''). "As I write this", he wrote, "I am sitting in the open air in a beautiful valley.... Intent upon the scene and upon the thoughts that stir within me, I conjure up the cheerful passages of my life, and a crowd of happy images appear before me".<ref>''Works'', vol. 17, pp. 161–62; quoted in Wardle, p. 419.</ref>

The return to London in October was a letdown. The grey skies and bad food compared unfavorably with his recent retreat, and he was suffering from digestive problems (these recurred throughout much of his later life), though it was also good to be home.<ref>Wardle, pp. 423–25.</ref> But he already had plans to return to Paris.<ref>Jones, p. 372.</ref>