William Hazlitt On the pleasure of hating There is a spider crawling along the matted floor of the room where I sit not the one which has been so well allegorised in the admirable Lines to a Spider, but another of the same edifying breed ; he runs with heedless, hurried haste, he hobbles awkwardly towards me, he stops — he sees the giant shadow before him, and, at a loss whether to retreat or proceed, meditates his huge foe — but as I do not start up and seize upon the straggling caitiff, as he would upon a hapless fly within his toils, he takes heart, and ventures on with mingled cunning, impudence and fear. As he passes me, I lift up the matting to assist his escape, am glad to get rid of the unwelcome intruder, and shudder at the recollection after he is gone. A child, a woman, a clown, or a moralist a century ago, would have crushed the little reptile to death-my philosophy has got beyond that — I bear the creature no ill-will, but still I hate the very sight of it. The spirit of malevolence survives the practical exertion of it.
As he passes me, I lift up the On the pleasure of hating to assist his escape, am glad to get rid of the unwelcome intruder, and shudder at the recollection after he is gone.
A child, a woman, a clown, or a moralist a century ago, would have crushed the little reptile to death-my philosophy has got beyond that -- I bear the creature no ill-will, but still I hate the very sight of it. The spirit of malevolence survives the practical exertion of it. We learn to curb our will and keep our overt actions within the bounds of humanity, long before we can subdue our sentiments and imaginations to the same mild tone.
We give up the external demonstration, the brute violence, but cannot part with the essence or principle of hostility. We do not tread upon the poor little animal in question that seems barbarous and pitiful! It will ask another hundred years of fine writing and hard thinking to cure us of the prejudice and make us feel towards this ill-omened tribe with something of "the milk of human kindness," instead of their own shyness and venom.
Nature seems the more we look into it made up of antipathies: Life would turn to a stagnant pool, were it not ruffled by the jarring interests, the unruly passions, of men. The white streak in our own fortunes is brightened or just rendered visible by making all around it as dark as possible; so the rainbow paints its form upon the cloud.
Is it the force of contrast? Is it weakness or malice? But so it is, that there is a secret affinity, a hankering after, evil in the human mind, and that it takes a perverse, but a fortunate delight in mischief, since it is a never-failing source of satisfaction. Pure good soon grows insipid, wants variety and spirit.
Pain is a bittersweet, wants variety and spirit. Love turns, with a On the pleasure of hating indulgence, to indifference or disgust: Do we not see this principle at work everywhere?
|William Hazlitt's "On the Pleasure of Hating" Essay Paper - EssayLeaks||A kind of rogue who received a large number of threats for his blatant opinions concerning authorship and culture, Hazlitt ruminated about the darker aspects of human experience.|
|On the Pleasure of Hating Quotes by William Hazlitt||On the contrary, if it was not this, then, linking every living creature of how pleasures of hatred are observed within them, did make it easy to understand the context of this study, but, in a practical way, did left a lot of ambiguity, when linkage of authors examples with the real life examples was seen to be done by me. Starting from, not every individual would consider hate, as a pleasure, as for most, hate would remain the way it was and be more what avoided, along with this, not everyone would consider life like a stagnant pool when no bad is left in life, as most would for sure dream to have a life with no hatred and leave their live flourish like an Eden garden.|
Animals torment and worry one another without mercy: It is better to have it so, but it diminishes the interest; and our feelings take part with our passions rather than with our understandings. Men assemble in crowds, with eager enthusiasm, to witness a tragedy: Burke observes, the theater would be left empty.
A strange cur in a village, an idiot, a crazy woman, are set upon and baited by the whole community. Public nuisances are in the nature of public benefits.
How long did the Pope, the Bourbons, and the Inquisition keep the people of England in breath, and supply them with nicknames to vent their spleen upon!
Had they done us any harm of late? How loth were we to give up our pious belief in ghosts and witches, because we liked to persecute the one, and frighten ourselves to death with the other!
It is not the quality so much as the quantity of excitement that we are anxious about: Even when the spirit of the age that is, the progress of intellectual refinement, warring with our natural infirmities no longer allows us to carry our vindictive and head strong humours into effect, we try to revive them in description, and keep up the old bugbears, the phantoms of our terror and our hate, in imagination.
We burn Guy Fawx in effigy, and the hooting and buffeting and maltreating that poor tattered figure of rags and straw makes a festival in every village in England once a year. Protestants and Papists do not now burn one another at the stake: We feel the full force of the spirit of hatred with all of them in turn.
As we read, we throw aside the trammels of civilization, the flimsy veil of humanity. Every one has his full swing, or goes to the Devil his own way. Here are no Jeremy Bentham Panopticons, none of Mr.
Owen's impassable Parallelograms 1 Rob Roy would have spurred and poured a thousand curses on themno long calculations of self-interest -- the will takes its instant way to its object, as the mountain-torrent flings itself over the precipice: Irving 2the celebrated preacher, has rekindled the old, original, almost exploded hell-fire in the aisles of the Caledonian Chapel, as they introduce the real water of the New River at Sadler's Wells, to the delight and astonishment of his fair audience.
Irving, like a huge Titan, looking as grim and swarthy as if he had to forge tortures for all the damned! What a strange being man is! Not content with doing all he can to vex and hurt his fellows here, "upon this bank and shoal of time," where one would think there were heartaches, pain, disappointment, anguish, tears, sighs, and groans enough, the bigoted maniac takes him to the top of the high peak of school divinity to hurl him down the yawning gulf of penal fire; his speculative malice asks eternity to wreak its infinite spite in, and calls on the Almighty to execute its relentless doom!
The cannibals burn their enemies and eat them in good-fellowship with one another: It is well that the power of such persons is not co-ordinate with their wills: The pleasure of hating, like a poisonous mineral, eats into the heart of religion, and turns it to rankling spleen and bigotry; it makes patriotism an excuse for carrying fire, pestilence, and famine into other lands: What have the different sects, creeds, doctrines in religion been but so many pretexts set up for men to wrangle, to quarrel, to tear one another in pieces about, like a target as a mark to shoot at?
Does any one suppose that the love of country in an Englishman implies any friendly feeling or disposition to serve another bearing the same name? No, it means only hatred to the French or the inhabitants of any other country that we happen to be at war with for the time.By: William Hazlitt On the Pleasure of Hating Hazlitt begins his essay by relating to a night when he encounters a spider while it was trying to flee the house.
On the Pleasure of Hating is an essay by William Hazlitt published in that appears within a collection of seven other essays in “Table Talk”. In the essay, Hazlitt reflects on humans' constitutional appetite for hostility and their tendency to grow bored with the familiar.
The essay offers a cynical portrait of humankind by pointing to deep and persistent contradictions in human character. About On the Pleasure of Hating. William Hazlitt’s tough, combative writings on subjects ranging from slavery to the imagination, boxing matches to the monarchy, established him as one of the greatest radicals of his age and have inspired journalists and political satirists ever since.
The pleasure of hating, like a poisonous mineral, eats into the heart of religion, and turns it to rankling spleen and bigotry; it makes patriotism an excuse for carrying fire, pestilence, and famine into other lands: it leaves to virtue nothing but the spirit of censoriousness, and a narrow, jealous, inquisitorial watchfulness over the actions.
On The Pleasure Of Hating by William Hazlitt Appearing as part of his Table-Talk series, a conversational series written on topics concerning every day issues, William Hazlitt wrote "On the Pleasure of Hating" in during a bitter period of his life, amidst rising controversy over his previous works, as well as the dissolution of his marriage.
Oct 28, · Advice On the Pleasure of Hating. When it comes to online trolls, academics may be the most multisyllabically, source-referencingly verbose.
Mark Shaver for The ChronicleAuthor: Rachel Toor.