lembert had a long and sedulously improved friendship with Madame
du Deffand, of whom Henault said, "Friendship was a passion with her;
and no woman ever had more friends, or better deserved them."

There was a basis for this eulogy; but it needs much qualification.
She and D'Alembert prized each other's society highly, and passed
much time together. But jealousy and exaction are tenacious
occupants, easily recalled to the heart even of an aged and friendly
woman. When D'Alembert formed a closer friendship with Mademoiselle
Lespinasse, the young and charming companion of Madame du Deffand,
the latter imperiously dictated the renunciation of the new friend as
the condition of retaining the old. The superiority of temper,
genius, and worth in Mademoiselle Lespinasse did not permit
D'Alembert to hesitate; and she repaid him with memorable fidelity.
The affectionate and dependent girl was harshly driven out. In her
anguish, she took laudanum, but not with a fatal result. D'Alembert
then called Du Deffand an old viper; but his friend checked him, and
would never allow any abuse of her former mistress, much less herself
indulge in vituperation of her. When D'Alembert was attacked by a
malignant fever, she went to his bedside, and nursed him day and
night till he was convalescent. Marmontel says, "Malice itself never
assailed their pure and innocent intimacy." She afterwards formed an
attachment, of the most romantic character, to the young Spanish
Marquis de Mora, who reciprocated her affection with impassioned
ardor. He died while on the road to join her; and she was not long in
following him into the grave, though, in the mean time, a still
stronger passion for Guibert had weaned her from D'Alembert. The
fervent tenderness of the latter for her remained unaltered, and he
was inconsolable at her departure. On hearing of her death, Madame du
Deffand said, "Had she only died fifteen years earlier, I should not
have lost D'Alembert." Her letters are famous in the literature of
love. Sir James Mackintosh says, "They are, in my opinion, the truest
picture of deep passion ever traced by a human being." Margaret
Fuller writes, "I am swallowing by gasps that cauldrony beverage of
selfish passion and morbid taste, the letters of Lespinasse. It is
good for me. The picture, so minute in its touches, is true as
death." Madame de Stael had many devoted friendships, as would
naturally be expected from the overwhelming wealth and ardor of