The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 12 (of 12) — Inside the Classic

Attribution and Editorial Method

The editors preface the volume with a detailed bibliographical note, listing essays they considered but excluded due to weak evidence of Hazlitt's authorship. Among these are four papers titled 'The Confessional' from 1822, which 'read very much as if they were written by Hazlitt during the Liber Amoris period,' and an essay on 'The Influence of Books on the Progress of Manners.' The note also mentions a piece from The Liberal that 'shows no trace of Hazlitt's handiwork.' This transparency is unusual for collected editions of the period and gives the reader a sense of the editors' scholarly caution.

The volume itself includes essays reprinted for the first time, alongside others previously published in Literary Remains, Sketches and Essays, or Winterslow. One exception is 'The Sick Chamber,' which had appeared in a selection by Mr. Ireland. The editors state they have not included any essay about whose authorship 'any reasonable doubt can exist,' yet they openly acknowledge borderline cases. This creates an interesting tension: the reader is invited to trust the editors' judgment while being made aware of the uncertainties.

A Walking Tour with Coleridge

The centerpiece of the volume is a lengthy narrative of a walking tour Hazlitt took with Coleridge through Somerset and Devon. Hazlitt's prose is at once precise and evocative: he describes Dunster as 'clear, as pure, as embrowned and ideal as any landscape I have seen since, of Gaspar Poussin's or Domenichino's.' The journey is punctuated by Coleridge's monologues—on Virgil's Georgics ('not well'), on Thomson ('a great poet, rather than a good one'), and on the upcoming Lyrical Ballads experiment. Hazlitt records Coleridge's striking comparison of Shakespeare to 'a mere stripling in the art' next to Milton, and his dismissal of Pope's versification.

The physical details are equally vivid: the 'smuggler's face scowling by us,' the 'bare masts of a vessel on the very edge of the horizon,' and the 'excellent rashers of fried bacon and eggs' after a long march. Hazlitt notes that Coleridge and Wordsworth had planned a prose-tale set in the Valley of Rocks, 'in the manner of, but far superior to, the Death of Abel,' but abandoned it. The essay thus offers a rare glimpse of the Romantic circle in motion, with Hazlitt as a sharp-eyed observer.

Hazlitt's Critical Voice

Throughout the volume, Hazlitt's critical judgments are delivered with characteristic bluntness. In the walking-tour essay, he remarks that Coleridge 'did not have much feeling for the classical or elegant,' and that he 'spoke with contempt of Gray, and with intolerance of Pope.' These asides reveal as much about Hazlitt as about Coleridge—Hazlitt himself was a fierce critic of poetic diction and artificiality. The volume also includes essays on a range of subjects, from art to politics, though the excerpts provided focus on the autobiographical pieces.

One notable feature is the way Hazlitt embeds literary criticism within personal narrative. When Coleridge exclaims over a worn copy of Thomson's Seasons, 'That is true fame,' Hazlitt lets the moment stand without commentary, trusting the reader to grasp its significance. The effect is to make the reader a participant in the conversation, overhearing judgments that shaped English letters. This volume, then, is not merely a collection of leftovers but a key to understanding Hazlitt's method: the fusion of lived experience and critical insight.

Readers approaching this volume should expect a mix of finished essays and rougher fragments, held together by the editors' careful scholarship. The walking-tour narrative alone rewards close reading, but the surrounding pieces—on art, literature, and society—offer further evidence of Hazlitt's range. The volume is best read as a companion to the earlier eleven, filling in the gaps of a career that was always more various than any single label could capture.