About this time (1756) D'Alembert was seized with a putrid fever which threatened his existence ; and, as the house of his nurse was both badly aired, and des titute of accommodation, he was removed, by order of his physician, to more heathy lodgings. Regardless of the opinion of the world, Mademoiselle L'Espinasse de termined to be his nurse. She watched over the couch of her friend with the most affectionate fidelity, and con tributed by her kind attentions to alleviate and remove his distress. The heart of D'Alembert was filled with gratitude for this generous participation in his suffer ings : IIis friendship swelled into a higher passion, till his brain was almost turned with the delirium of love. An affection equally tender, but inferior in violence, was cherished by Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, who permitted D'Alembert to take up his residence in her house. This union of hearts, which malice itself never represented as impure, did not contribute much to the happiness of either party. The capricious disposition of the lady sought for a variety of lovers; and no sooner had she secured possession of D'Alembert's heart, than she meditated more splendid conquests. Influenced either by the love of show, or the dread of penury, she conceived the ambitious hope of being some clay united to one of the distinguished characters that frequented her literary parties. She well knew the power of her charms over the hearts of her visitors; and she never failed to exercise it with the most consummate skill. A complete knowledge of the human heart, and a passion ate eloquence of sentiment, heightened by an insinuating frankness of address, gave an interesting brilliancy to her conversation; and enabled her to fascinate her ad mirers with all the blandishments and sorcery of love. The Marquis de Mora, a young Spanish nobleman, was the first victim of this seductive enchantress. She saw the devotion with which she inspired him ; a glimpse of future splendour animated her hopes, and she called forth all the resources of her art to fix the idolater at her shrine. A rumour of the Marquis's attachment having reached his friends in Spain, he was ordered in stantly to return. His absence from Paris, though it raised the almost extinguished hopes of his rival, did not weaken the affection of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse. D'Alembert saw the fickleness of his mistress, and the feeble impression which was made by talents and rep% tation, when opposed to the allurements or rank and for tune ; but he still cherished his and secn•, to have been satisfied with the place in her heart. Anticipating, probably, soine change Of circum stances which might unfix the lady's aifrctions, he still continued his obsequious am:laicals, win even condt scended to be the bearer of the Marquis's lett) rs from the post-office. No sooner had De returned to Spain than he fell suddenly ill : the afflicting intelli gence having been quickly conveyed to Paris, :tilde ' L'Espinasse had tor address to make D'Alel:l. bert procure a certificate from an colineut phy that the air of France was necessary for the recm cry of the Spanish nobleman. His friends be fug .ed by this advice, he left his native country, hut (lieu h. lore he arrived at Paris. This disastrous (*Vent preyed upl•n the nand of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, and brought Inn prematurely to the grave. D'Alembert was incon.,olablr for the loss of his Friend: In solitary anguish lie brooch(' over his distress, and, overwhelmed in that immoderate grief which could spring only from the most extravagam passion, he seems air her to have forgotten, or tic spised the consciations w hich philosophy otters to the unfortu nate. " What now remains 'Or me !" said he to :,larinon tel : "when I return home, I find only her shadow : home to me exhibits all the horrors of the iomb." A long period elapsed before the mind of this great man was restored to its former balance. Ile cherished a dis like to the society of men, and even to his tunner stu dies; and until time, the universal anodyne of grief, had corrected these erroneous impressions, he appears to have regarded the highest of all earthly enjoyments. the cultivation of the mind, as one of the vanities of human life.
The remainder of D'Alembert's life was chiefly de voted to the society of his friends, in whose tender sym pathies lie found a balm for the melancholy recollections which often agitated his mind. He had now lost the gaiety and vivacity of his happier clays, and old age, with disease in its train, was rapidly advancing. The torments of the stone had already begun to prey upon his health ; and he expired of this fatal disease, on the 29th October, 1783, in the 66th year of his age.
While D'Alembert resided under the roof of his nurse, he showed the most amiable and affectionate dis positions. Unambitious of preferment, he was solicitous only about the cultivation of his mind, and the happiness of the little domestic circle whom his generosity sup ported. That simplicity of manners which arose from his peculiar situation, followed him in his intercourse with the world. From an ignorance of the ceremonies of fashionable life, he conducted himself with that blunt• 'less of demeanour which is the offspring of a frank and honest mind ; and was frequently embarrasq:1.d by the compliments which were occasionally paid to the splendour of his talents : hut though his conversation was sometimes unpolished, and his manners ungraceful, he was never charged with uncivility and rudeness. Without possessing the gallantry and address of a cour tier, his conversation was pleasing and cheerful, enli vened by frequent sallies of delicate wit, and by a of manner which is seldom the companion of profound talents. On some occasions, serious and gloomy, he
surrendered his mind to those melancholy impressions which are the offspring and the scourge of genius. At other times, he seems to have forgotten the command ing reputation which he enjoyed : He was all life and jot ularity, indulging in that sportive gaiety, and playful ness of wit, which frequently borders on childishness. The professed champion of liberty of thought, he felt no desire to force his opinions upon others ; and hence lie disliked that controversial disposition which destroys the harmony of social intercourse, alleging, that in all subjects, except the mathematical sciences, there was room for difference of sentiment, and that almost in every thing men may say what they choose. From the impatient violence of his temper, he could not bear to be thwarted and opposed : His impetuosity, however, soon subsided : it was the irritation of the moment, and never terminated in revenge.
When the reputation of D'Alembert brought around him a crowd of idle flatterers and pretenders to science, he often treated them with little ceremony ; and not unfrequently amused himself at their expense, by a se verity of satire, and a keenness of remark, which were the worst shades in his character. This bitterness of invective, however, did not proceed from a disregard to the feelings of others. It sprung rather from thought lessness than from malignity, and was chiefly directed against presumption and empiricism. He had too good a heart to be deliberately the cause of misery even to his enemies ; but his unfortunate propensity for raillery, often led him to indulge his ill humour, before he could calculate the pain which it gave to others, or the injury which it (lid to himself.
Before closing this sketch of D'Alembert's life, we must make a few remarks on his religious and moral character. In this country he has been long regarded as the apostle of anarchy and irreligion ; and even his connexion with Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, has, contrary to the most positive evidence, been represented as im moral and licentious. As if the malignity of his ene mies had not sufficiently harassed him during life, he has for more than twenty years been persecuted in the tomb. That sanctuary of the dead, before which the slanderer generally stands mute and pale, has been wan tonly invaded by an order of men who could not appre ciate the omnipotence of his talents, and with a degree of rancorous hostility, which should have been excited only by living baseness. The associates of his glory, and his successors in the brilliant career of discovery, have been assailed by the same malignant spirit ; and a road to the temple of fame has been opened, for English phi losophers, over the bleeding characters of those mighty sages, whom the universal suffrage of posterity will one day place at its altar.—It is easy to account for those erroneous impressions of character which are drawn from the conduct of those who took an active part in the French Revolution. Time alone can cool the pas sions of men who were performers in that great drama of blood and terror, and correct the opinions which were formed in the moment of agitation or revenge : but D'Alembert was in his grave long before this convulsion took place ; and we can account for the calumnies with which his memory has been loaded, only from the ab surd hypothesis, that the seeds of the French Revolutiou were sown by the writers of the Encycloliiediu, and those distinguished men who then adorned the literature of France. The atrocious calumnies of Barruel, which for a while deceived the credulity of this country, still maintain their impression upon weak minds ; though we believe, that every man possessed of common rea son, has indignantly spurned from his understanding these impious delusions. Calumny, like every other instrument of intrigue, has but a temporary existence. The d, tractor may perform with success, and even with applause, the little part which he has to act in the poli tical turmoils of the clay ; but time and impartial justice will unveil the characters over which his black mantle has been cast, and commit to the mercy of posterity those who have wantonly scattered from their urn the ashes of departed genius.
It is not the provinc. of a biographer to ascertain the articles which composed the creed of D'Alembert. The celebrated La Harpe, who will not be suspected of un due partiality, admits, that he never could find in his writings a sentiment hostile to religion. D'Alembert frequently speaks with feeling of the beauties of Scrip ture, and has clone ample justice to the illustrious preachers who adorned the reign of Lewis XIV. But if he were an infidel; if, to use the words of a Christian bishop, " he did not think so well as he wrote; no per son has a right to interrogate his conscience." We may lament his unbelief as a misfortune ; but we have no title to reprobate it as a crime. It is the avowed infi del, who insults the public feeling by his vices, or shakes the public faith by his outrageous zeal, that is the object of general abhorrence. The sound theist, who worships the same God, and cherishes the same hopes as the Christian, is a character which no man ought rashly to condemn. From licentious manners and immoral con duct, it is not charitable to infer either hypocrisy or unbelief. But a life distinguished like that of D'Alem bert, by unimpeachable morality and the most amiable virtues, bids defiance to the groundless insinuations of malevolence, and makes a powerful appeal from con temporary bigotry, to the charitable judgment of more enlightened times. (p)