ome trivial reason. This woman,
however, always longed to believe her friends sincere, but never
succeeded. "Her friends either leave her, they die, or they are far
away; or, if present, faithful and attached to her, she cannot believe
in their affection; her cursed scepticism deceived her heart."

Mme. du Deffand was one of the few women of the eighteenth century who
saw reality and nothing but reality, and admitted what she saw; she
was gifted with such quick penetration and such mental facility
that she stands out prominently as one of the brightest and most
intellectual of the spiritual women of her time. This quickness of
perception and tendency to follow a mere impression made it difficult
for her to examine closely, to be patient of details; too sure of
herself, too emotional, too passionate, she displayed injustice,
vehemence, over-enthusiasm; easily bored and disgusted, she was, at
the same time, susceptible to infatuation. Scherer said: "She is a
superior man in a body of a nervous and weak woman."

She was a woman dominated by her reason--a characteristic which led to
an incurable ennui, thus causing her terrible suffering, but equipping
her with a penetration which saw through the world and knew man, whom
she divided into three classes: _les trompeurs_, _les trompes_, _les
trompettes_. According to her judgment, man is either fatiguing or, if
brilliantly endowed, usually false or jealous; but she realized, also,
her own shortcomings, the incompleteness of her faculties. "The force
of her thought does not reach talent; her intelligence is active and
responsive, but fails to respond. She often shows a sovereign disdain
for herself, everybody, and everything. She arrives at a point in life
when she no longer has passion, desire, or even curiosity; she detests
life, and dreads death because she does not know that there is another
world. She is not happy enough to do without those whom she scorns,
and must therefore seek diversion in the conversation of stupid
people, preferring anything to solitude; this refers to the time when
her best friends are no more and when she herself is out of her former
_milieu_; she was too old, or lived too long; she belongs to another
age."

By her friends she was called the feminine Voltaire, and the
celebrated philosopher and she were drawn together by a very similar
habit of mind, although, to her intimates, she scorched Voltaire; but
in writing to him she would overwhelm him