hers. She found they interfered with serious conversation. I advisedly call Madame Geoffrin the "keeper" of a salon, because she made a business of it, and ruled and tamed her literary menagerie by a discreet and liberal use of her purse. I have often wondered if her great men in their hearts did not sometimes revolt against the thraldom in which they lived from the moment they became celebrated. To be bound to be brilliant and witty, in return for a good dinner and a consideration every evening of one's life! And to be condemned to meet none but brilliant and witty persons, and listen to their splendid talk when not talking splendidly oneself! There is matter for reflection here to make dull and obscure persons occasionally thank their stars. If good talk is not spontaneous, I own it has no charm for me, but then I have never aspired to hold a salon, and if you hold a salon and wish it to be a success, talk cannot be spontaneous.
Quite recently Madame Aubernon died, and Paris lost a literary salon, modelled, at a long distance, on that of Madame Geoffrin. Madame Aubernon was a rich bourgeoise, with no pretensions on the score of age, good looks, or dress. Her only ambition was to form a menagerie of celebrities. She gave them every evening dinners by no means as good as those of Madame Geoffrin, and checked, controlled, made them march
