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

The Bibliographical Frame

The opening pages are dominated by a bibliographical note that details the complex publication history of Table-Talk. Hazlitt’s essays first appeared in two volumes (1821–1822), were reprinted in 1824, and later revised by his son in 1845. The note specifies which essays were added or omitted in each edition, and even records the printer’s name and the location of errata. This level of detail is unusual for a collected works and invites the reader to consider the text as a living document rather than a fixed monument. For a first reading, it is worth noting that the edition you hold is based on the second edition (1824), with corrections from the first edition’s errata. The note also mentions a Paris edition (1825) that mixed essays from Table-Talk with those later published in The Plain Speaker, hinting at the fluid boundaries between Hazlitt’s collections.

Hazlitt’s Theatrical Metaphors

In the excerpt from the essay on theatre, Hazlitt deploys a series of vivid, concrete images to argue against backstage knowledge. He lists what he does not want to see: “how Cato painted, or how Cæsar combed,” the “half-lighted candles stuck against the bare walls,” a Columbine “practising a pirouette in sober sadness.” These details are not mere decoration; they build a case that theatrical illusion depends on a willing suspension of disbelief. Hazlitt extends the metaphor to social life, comparing “the great puppets of the real stage” who sit in stage-boxes and “peep and pry into what is going on like a magpie looking into a marrow-bone.” The essay thus uses a specific theatrical setting to critique a broader human tendency to debunk mystery. Readers should watch for how Hazlitt returns to performance imagery throughout the volume—whether discussing politics, art, or personal relationships.

The Paradox of Intellectual Superiority

The excerpt from “On the Disadvantages of Intellectual Superiority” presents a paradox: knowing more isolates one from common understanding. Hazlitt quotes Petrarch’s complaint that nature made him “different from other people,” and then glosses it with a blunt social observation: “If you are beneath them, you are trampled upon; if you are above them, you soon find a mortifying level in their indifference.” The essay’s structure moves from a general claim to a series of illustrative examples, including a reference to Shakespeare’s “one man picked out of ten thousand.” Hazlitt’s tone is wry and self-aware, as he positions himself as the “particular fellow” who speaks “another language.” This essay is a key to understanding Hazlitt’s persona throughout the volume: a writer who embraces his singularity while ruefully acknowledging its social costs. The use of Spenserian quotation to describe the “beast of strange and foreign race” underscores the theme of alienation.

Conversations with Northcote: A Different Mode

The volume also includes Conversations of James Northcote, Esq., R.A., which shifts from the essay form to a dialogic structure. Based on the excerpts, these conversations likely record Hazlitt’s interactions with the painter Northcote, offering a more informal, anecdotal counterpart to the polished essays of Table-Talk. The bibliographical note indicates that this section was originally published separately, and its inclusion here provides a contrast in voice and method. Where the essays are carefully crafted arguments, the conversations may present ideas in a more spontaneous, even contradictory manner. For a first reading, this section can be approached as a kind of backstage view of Hazlitt’s own thinking—a glimpse behind the “glass of fashion” that he elsewhere warns against. Readers should note how the conversational format allows for digression and personality in ways the essay form does not.

This volume rewards a reader who moves slowly, attending to the interplay between Hazlitt’s declared subjects and his recurring preoccupations. The bibliographical note is not mere front matter but a guide to the text’s instability; the essays on theatre and intellectual superiority are not isolated pieces but variations on a theme. Let the conversations with Northcote serve as a counterpoint, a reminder that Hazlitt’s voice was shaped in dialogue as much as in solitary reflection. Read with an eye for the specific image, the quoted line, the sudden turn of phrase—these are the hinges on which his arguments turn.

Hazlitt, in his sixth volume, often speaks of thinking alongside a book—conversation without noise. That same quiet company lives in Books and men — Text and Context, where texts whisper to one another across years. It reminded me of leaning over a lamp, two spines open, neither demanding attention, just sharing a patient, unspoken understanding. A familiar warmth, that.