ndeed, in the
_Spirit of the Age_ there are distinct anticipations of Carlyle. He had
the not uncommon fate of producing work which, little noted by the
public, struck very strongly those of his juniors who had any literary
faculty. If he had been, just by a little, a greater man than he was, he
would, no doubt, have elaborated an individual manner, and not have
contented himself with the hints and germs of manners. As it was, he had
more of seed than of fruit. And the secret of this is, undoubtedly, to
be found in the obstinate individuality of thought which characterised
him all through. Hazlitt may sometimes have adopted an opinion partly
because other people did not hold it, but he never adopted an opinion
because other people did hold it. And all his opinions, even those which
seem to have been adopted simply to quarrel with the world, were genuine
opinions. He has himself drawn a striking contrast in this point,
between himself and Lamb, in one of the very best of all his essays, the
beautiful "Farewell to Essay-writing" reprinted in _Winterslow_. The
contrast is a remarkable one, and most men, probably, who take great
interest in literature or politics, or indeed in any subject admitting
of principles, will be able to furnish similar contrasts from their own
experience.

In matters of taste and feeling, one proof that my conclusions
have not been quite shallow and hasty, is the circumstance of
their having been lasting. I have the same favourite books,
pictures, passages that I ever had; I may therefore presume
that they will last me my life--nay, I may indulge a hope that
my thoughts will survive me. This continuity of impression is
the only thing on which I pride myself. Even Lamb, whose relish
of certain things is as keen and earnest as possible, takes a
surfeit of admiration, and I should be afraid to ask about his
select authors or particular friends after a lapse of ten years.
As for myself, any one knows where to have me. What I have once
made up my mind to, I abide by to the end of the chapter.

This is quite true if we add a proviso to it--a proviso, to be sure, of
no small importance. Hazlitt is always the same when he is not
different, when his political or personal ails and angers do not obscure
his critical judgment. His uniformity of principle extends only to the
two subjects of literature and of art; unless a third may be added, to
wit, the various