ir!" says he, "you should have known him formerly. Now
he is quite another man: he seldom stays later than one or two; then he
used to help sing catches, and all sorts."

"It was at the 'Southampton' that George Cruikshank, Hazlitt, and Hone
used to often meet, to discuss subjects for Hone's squibs on the Queen's
trial (1820). Cruikshank would sometimes dip his finger in ale and
sketch a suggestion on the table.

"While living in that state of half-assumed love frenzy at No. 9,
Southampton Buildings, Hazlitt produced some of his best work. His noble
lectures on the age of Elizabeth had just been delivered, and he was
writing for the _Edinburgh Review_, the _New Monthly_, and the London
_Magazine_, in conjunction with Charles Lamb, Reynolds, Barry Cornwall,
De Quincey, and Wainwright ('Janus Weathercock') the poisoner. In 1821
he published his volume of 'Dramatic Criticisms,' and his subtle 'Table
Talk;' in 1823, his foolish 'Liber Amoris;' and in 1824, his fine
'Sketches of the Principal English Picture Galleries.'

"Hazlitt, who was born in 1778 and died in 1830, was the son of a
Unitarian minister of Irish descent. Hazlitt was at first intended for
an artist, but, coming to London, soon drifted into literature. He
became a parliamentary reporter to the _Morning Chronicle_ in 1813, and
in that wearing occupation injured his naturally weak digestion. In 1814
he succeeded Mudford as theatrical critic on Perry's paper. In 1815 he
joined the _Champion_, and in 1818 wrote for the _Yellow Dwarf_.
Hazlitt's habits at No. 9 were enough to have killed a rhinoceros. He
sat up half the night, and rose about one or two. He then remained
drinking the strongest black tea, nibbling a roll, and reading (no
appetite, of course) till about five p.m. At supper at the
'Southampton,' his jaded stomach then rousing, he ate a heavy meal of
steak or game, frequently drinking during his long and suicidal vigils
three or four quarts of water. Wine and spirits he latterly never
touched. Morbidly self-conscious, touchy, morose, he believed that his
aspect and manner were strange and disagreeable to his friends, and that
every one was perpetually insulting him. He had a magnificent forehead,
regular features, pale as marble, and a profusion of curly black hair,
but his eyes were shy and suspicious. His manner when not at his ease
Mr. P.G. Patmore describes as worthy of Apemantus himself. He would
enter a room as if he had been brought in in cust