1778-1830
[Sidenote: Patmore’s _Personal Recollections_.]
“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 witnessed Edmund Kean’s last scene of ‘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 ‘chiseled’ (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. The forehead, as I have hinted, was magnificent; the
nose precisely that (combining strength with lightness and elegance)
which physiognomists have assigned as evidence of a fine and highly
cultivated taste, though there was a peculiar character about the
nostrils like that observable in those of a fiery and unruly horse. The
mouth, from its ever-changing form and character, could scarcely be
described, except as to its astonishingly varied power of expression,
which was equal to, and greatly resembled, that of Edmund Kean. His
eyes, I should say, were not good. They were never brilliant, and there
was a furtive and at times a sinister look about them, as they glanced
suspiciously from under their overhanging brows, that conveyed a very
unpleasant impression to those who did not know him. And they were
seldom directed frankly and fairly towards you, as if he were afraid
that you might read in them what was passing in his mind concerning
you. His head was nobly formed and placed, with (until the last few
years of his life) a profusion of coal-black hair, richly curled; and
his person was of middle height, rather slight, but well formed and put
together.”
[Sidenote: Bryan Procter’s _Recollections of Men of Letters_.]
“My first meeting with Mr. Hazlitt took place at the house of
Leigh Hunt, where I met him at supper. I expected to see a severe,
defiant-looking being. I met a grave man, diffident, almost awkward
in manner, whose appearance did not impress me with much respect. He
had a quick, restless eye, however, which opened eagerly when any
good or bright observation was made; and I found at the conclusion of
the evening, that when any question arose, the most sensible reply
always came from him.... Hazlitt was of the middle size, with eager,
expressive eyes, near which his black hair, sprinkled sparely with
gray, curled round in a wiry, resolute manner. His gray eyes, not
remarkable in colour, expanded into great expression when occasion
demanded it. Being very shy, however, they often evaded your steadfast
look. They never (as has been asserted by some one) had a sinister
expression, but they sometimes flamed with indignant glances when their
owner was moved to anger, like the eyes of other angry men. At home,
his style of dress (or undress) was perhaps slovenly, because there
was no one to please; but he always presented a very neat and clean
appearance when he went abroad. His mode of walking was loose, weak,
and unsteady, although his arms displayed strength, which he used to
put forth when he played at racquets with Martin Burney and others.”
[Sidenote: The Cowden Clarkes’ _Recollections of Writers_.]
“The painting ... was standing on an old-fashioned couch in one corner
of the room leaning against the wall, and we remained opposite to it
for some time, while Hazlitt stood by holding the candle high up so as
to throw the light well on to the picture, descanting enthusiastically
on the merits of the original. The beam from the candle falling
on his own finely intellectual head, with its iron-gray hair, its
square potential forehead, its massive mouth and chin, and eyes full
of earnest fire, formed a glorious picture in itself, and remains a
luminous vision for ever upon our memories.”--About 1829.