But above all, what most offends, is that freedom of opinion which a man of genius can no more divest himself of, than of the features of his face.  But what if this intractable obstinacy be only resistance of character?  Burns never could account to himself why, “though when he had a mind he was pretty generally beloved, he could never get the art of commanding respect,” and imagined it was owing to his deficiency in what Sterne calls “that understrapping virtue of discretion;” “I am so apt to a lapsus linguae” says this honest sinner.  Amidst the stupidity of a formal circle, and the inanity of triflers, however such men may conceal their impatience, one of them has forcibly described the reaction of this suppressed feeling:  “The force with which it burst out when the pressure was taken off, gave the measure of the constraint which had been endured.”  Erasmus, that learned and charming writer, who was blessed with the genius which could enliven a folio, has well described himself, sum natura propensior ad jocos quam fortasse deceat:—­more constitutionally inclined to pleasantry than, as he is pleased to add, perhaps became him.  We know in his intimacy with Sir Thomas More, that Erasmus was a most exhilarating companion; yet in his intercourse with the great he was not fortunate.  At the first glance he saw through affectation and parade, his praise of folly was too ironical, and his freedom carried with it no pleasantry for those who knew not to prize a laughing sage.

In conversation the operations of the intellect with some are habitually slow, but there will be found no difference between the result of their perceptions and those of a quicker nature; and hence it is that slow-minded men are not, as men of the world imagine, always the dullest.  NICOLLE said of a scintillant wit, “He vanquishes me in the drawing-room, but surrenders to me at discretion on the stairs.”  Many a great wit has thought the wit it was too late to speak, and many a great reasoner has only reasoned when his opponent has disappeared.  Conversation with such men is a losing game; and it is often lamentable to observe how men of genius are reduced to a state of helplessness from not commanding their attention, while inferior intellects habitually are found to possess what is called “a ready mind.”  For this reason some, as it were in despair, have shut themselves up in silence.  A lively Frenchman, in describing the distinct sorts of conversation of his literary friends, among whom was Dr. Franklin, energetically hits off that close observer and thinker, wary, even in society, by noting down “the silence of the celebrated Franklin.”  We learn from Cumberland that Lord Mansfield did not promote that conversation which gave him any pains to carry on.  He resorted to society for simple relaxation, and could even find a pleasure in dulness when accompanied with placidity.  “It was a kind of cushion to his understanding,” observes the wit.  CHAUCER, like LA FONTAINE, was more facetious in his