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Notes ago, recording for his readers all of his renewed impressions of canvases by Guido, Poussin, and
Titian, among others.
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. 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), Hazlitt registered
a running commentary on the scenic points of interest. On the road between Florence and Rome,
for example,
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.
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”.
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, with its clustering habitations, shewed like a dark pitchy
spot by its side; and beyond the glimmering verge of the 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’s landscapes the evening clouds drink up the rosy light, and sink into soft repose!”
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”.
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”? 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”.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”.
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”.
As he had befriended Stendhal in Paris, so in Florence, besides visiting the picture galleries, he
became friends with Walter Savage Landor. He also spent much time with his old friend Leigh
Hunt, now in residence there.

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