When, at last, his customary place became vacant, and some brilliant butterfly of madame’s circle of visiteurs flottants, who, perhaps, had smiled patronizingly upon the silent old gentleman, becoming aware of his absence, would, perchance, carelessly inquire what had become of her constant dinner guest, madame would reply:  Mais, c’etait mon mari.  Helas! il est mort, le bon homme. [Why, that was my husband! alas, he is dead, poor man!] Just so little was the consideration shown this worthy creature in his own house!  Yet it both pleased and amused him to sit there silently and gaze at the throng of rank, fashion, and learning, assembled in his wife’s salon, and to witness her social success.”

After the death of Mme. Geoffrin’s husband, the immense fortune passed under her own management, whereupon began her real career as a social arbitress, during which she is said to have tempered both opinions and characters.  Thomas said of her that “she was, in morals, like that divinity of the ancients which maintained or reestablished limits.”  She was a great patroness of arts and her rooms were decorated with pictures by Vanloo, Greuze, Vernet, Robert, etc.  She and her salon became, in time, the acknowledged judge and dictator of matters literary and artistic.  Whenever a financier wished to purchase a certain work of art, it was taken to her Monday dinner, where the artists determined its artistic value and fixed the price.  Her house was a real museum; there the precious Mariette collection was on permanent exhibition.

Besides her Monday dinners to artists and her Wednesday dinners to the literary world, she gave private luncheons to a select few who were especially congenial.  At those functions, such celebrities as the Comtesses d’Egmont and de Brionne, the Marquise de Duras, and the Prince de Rohan were frequent guests.

Mme. Geoffrin was shrewd and tactful enough to avoid politics and not to permit discussions of a political nature at her salon—­precautions which she observed to keep the government from interfering with her fortune and mode of living.  Her salon and dinners became so famous that every foreigner going to Paris had the ambition to be received at Mme. Geoffrin’s; when any aspirant was successful in this, she would say to her friends:  Soyons aimables [Let us be kind].  She spent freely of her immense fortune constantly seeking and aiding the poor.  Persons who refused to accept her charity found little favor with her; Rousseau was one of these.  It was her habit to go frequently to see friends, merely to ascertain their wants and to satisfy them.  The Abbe Morellet, Thomas, D’Alembert, and Mlle. de Lespinasse (the only lady admitted to her Wednesdays) were given liberal pensions.  Upon each New Year’s Day, in commemoration of Mme. de Tencin, she sent each Wednesday guest a velvet cap.  Her motto was:  Donner et pardonner [Give and forgive].