d taught them how he might be shorn of his
strength. Dr. JOHNSON appears often to have indulged this amusement, both
in good and ill humour. Even such a calm philosopher as ADAM SMITH, as
well as such a child of imagination as BURNS, were remarked for this
ordinary habit of men of genius; which, perhaps, as often originates in a
gentle feeling of contempt for their auditors, as from any other cause.
Many years after having written the above, I discovered two recent
confessions which confirm the principle. A literary character, the late
Dr. LEYDEN, acknowledged, that "in conversation I often verge so nearly on
absurdity, that I know it is perfectly easy to misconceive me, as well as
to misrepresent me." And Miss Edgeworth, in describing her father's
conversation, observes that, "his openness went too far, almost to
imprudence; exposing him not only to be misrepresented, but to be
misunderstood. Those who did not know him intimately, often took literally
what was either said in sport, or spoken with the intention of making a
strong impression for some good purpose." CUMBERLAND, whose conversation
was delightful, happily describes the species I have noticed. "Nonsense
talked by men of wit and understanding in the hour of relaxation is of the
very finest essence of conviviality, and a treat delicious to those who
have the sense to comprehend it; but it implies a trust in the company not
always to be risked." The truth is, that many, eminent for their genius,
have been remarkable in society for a simplicity and playfulness almost
infantine. Such was the gaiety of Hume, such the _bonhomie_ of Fox; and
one who had long lived in a circle of men of genius in the last age, was
disposed to consider this infantine simplicity as characteristic of
genius. It is a solitary grace, which can never lend its charm to a man of
the world, whose purity of mind has long been lost in a hacknied
intercourse with everything exterior to himself.

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
li