Learning is its own exceedingly great reward

William Hazlitt

I’m not really one for essays, but I recently read one online called, On the pleasure of hating by William Hazlitt. It struck me as very familiar and although it was written around the 1820’s I realised that when it comes to the nature of the topic, society hasn’t really changed a great deal since that time.

Over the past 12 months I’ve come across Hazlitt’s name on many occasions but never having read any of his essays until now, didn’t think to include him in my blog before reading his work.  After further investigation, I learned that William Hazlitt was born in 1778 and at the age of two, he embarked on a sort of journey with his migratory family. Although, you might say he was dragged from pillar to post. Primarily educated at home, Hazlitt went on to study a broad curriculum at Hackney College. He was only there for two years, but his studies had quite an impact on him. He was vastly interested in politics and philosophy of the mind which we all know as psychology.

Throughout his life, he wrote several essays on human behaviour and also critical work of other writers and their characters, including Shakespeare.  His book was revolutionary in the sense that the study was comprehensive of all of Shakespeare’s plays and somewhat of a guide to understanding the work. Due to his criticism of several writers, his reputation took a dive and he was attacked and ridiculed publicly – in a magazine of course and we all know that the pen is mightier than the sword.

A failing marriage led to frequent visits to prostitutes and due to his reputation he was unable to earn a living. Eviction and solace took him to the country where he focussed on his writing where he wrote essays which were outstanding. This work included On the pleasure of hating, which kind of sums up the bitterness in his life to that date. This is the essay that caught my attention and made me pursue the writer and ask myself the question, do we really love to hate?

Throughout my own life, I’ve moved in many circles and they all have the same thing in common. People like to bitch about each other.  Some do it more than others and I’m not sure that it could be described as hate, but I think there’s something in this. When you look at small communities, there’s usually someone a little different or a recluse type that the rest like to ridicule or taunt. As Hazlitt also points out, in history we burnt those that we believed were witches and took great pleasure in it. He also touches on the tall poppies of society and we love to see them fall, don’t we?  So, is it human nature to turn upon our friends? Is the concept of love folly? Every honeymoon has an ending and even the sweetest strawberries turn rotten eventually, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t love our neighbour.

His grave in the churchyard of St Anne's Soho

William Hazlitt did marry again and he wrote a lot more than I have mentioned here. Although he was critical of others, he was also very critical of himself which is something we all have in common too. The human race is a long one and whether you’re out in front, or lagging behind, you’re still running it. So I guess if you want to remain positive about your place, you sometimes have to vent a little. When Hazlitt passed away in 1830 his burial was attended by a handful of close family and friends, but he doesn’t know that. His life was rewarded by the knowledge he gathered along the way, not by the friends he didn’t manage to make. So when I think about this in detail it reaffirms that Once upon a time in London, I ventured into a literary mind that introduced an insight which hasn’t changed in centuries and isn’t likely to.