tion is generally agreeable, for if they have any wit or sense,
they are sure to shew it. Their women are perfect mistresses in the art
of shewing themselves to the best advantage. They are always gay and
sprightly, and set off the worst faces in Europe with the best airs.
Every one knows how to give herself as charming a look and posture as Sir
Godfrey Kneller could draw her in."

From Blois he returned to Paris, and was now better qualified, from his
knowledge of the language, to mingle with its philosophers, savants, and
poets. He had some interesting talk with Malebranche and Boileau, the
former of whom "very much praised Mr Newton's mathematics; shook his head
at the name of Hobbes, and told me he thought him a _pauvre esprit_."
Here follows a genuine Addisonianism: "His book is now reprinted with
many additions, among which he shewed me a very pretty hypothesis of
colours, which is different from that of Cartesius or Newton, _though
they may all three be true_." Boileau, now sixty-four, deaf as a post,
and full of the "sweltered venom" of ill-natured criticism, nevertheless
received Addison kindly; and when presented by him with his "Musae
Anglicanae," is said from that time to have conceived an opinion of the
English genius for poetry. Addison says that Boileau "hated an ill
poet." Unfortunately, however, for his judgment, it is notorious that he
slighted Shakspeare, Milton, and Corneille, and that, next to Homer and
Virgil, his great idols were Arnaud and Racine.

In December 1700, tired of French manners, which had lost even their
power of moving him to smiles, and it may be apprehensive of the war
connected with the Spanish succession, which was about to inflame all
Europe, Addison embarked from Marseilles for Italy. After a narrow escape
from one of those sudden Mediterranean storms, in which poor Shelley
perished, he landed at Savona, and proceeded, through wild mountain
paths, to Genoa. He afterwards commemorated his deliverance in the
pleasing lines published in the _Spectator_, beginning with--

"How are Thy servants blest, O Lord,"

one verse in which was wont to awaken the enthusiasm of the boy Burns,

"What though in dreadful whirls we hung,
High on the broken wave," &c.

The survivor of a shipwreck is, or should be, ever afterwards a sadder
and a wiser man. And Addison continued long to feel subdued and thankful,
and could hardly have been more so though he had outlived _that_
shipwre