delicacy that
always pleased, and her flatteries were intoxicating because they were
simple and seemed to escape without intention.

Mme. de Luxembourg was an autocrat, and did not hesitate to punish
errors in taste by social ostracism. "Erase the name of Monsieur
-- -- from my list," she said, as a gentleman left after relating a
scandalous story reflecting upon some one's honor. It was one of her
theories that "society should punish what the law cannot attack."
She maintained that good manners are based upon noble and delicate
sentiments, that mutual consideration, deference, politeness,
gentleness, and respect to age are essential to civilization. The
disloyal, the ungrateful bad sons, bad brothers, bad husbands, and
bad wives, whose offenses were serious enough to be made public, she
banished from that circle which called itself la bonne compagnie. It
must be admitted, however, that it was les convenances rather than
morality which she guarded.

A rival of this brilliant salon, and among the most celebrated of
its day, was the one at the Temple. The animating spirit here was the
amiable and vivacious Comtesse de Boufflers, celebrated in youth for
her charms, and later for her talent. She was dame d'honneur to the
Princesse de Conti, wife of the Duc d'Orleans, who was noted for her
caustic wit, as well as for her beauty. It was in the salon of his
clever and rather capricious sister that the learned Prince de Conti
met her and formed the intimacy that ended only with his life. She was
called the idole of the Temple, and her taste for letters gave her also
the title of Minerve savante. She wrote a tragedy which was said to be
good, though she would never let it go out of her hands, and has been
immortalized by Rousseau, with whom she corresponded for sixteen years.
Hume also exchanged frequent letters with her, and she tried in vain to
reconcile these two friends after their quarrel. President Henault said
he had never met a woman of so much esprit, adding that "outside all her
charms she had character." For society she had a veritable passion. She
said that when she loved England the best she could not think of staying
there without "taking twenty-four or twenty-five intimate friends,
and sixty or eighty others who were absolutely necessary to her." Her
conversation was full of fire and brilliancy, and her gaiety of heart,
her gracious manners, and her frank appreciation of the talent of others
added greatly to he