Note 13 — Chapter I

I once said this very thing to her. I was sitting by her at her own house at some distance from the rest of the company, and we were talking of the stand making against Madame du Barry. The Duchesse de Choiseul asked me if that opposition of the nobility to the King’s pleasure would not be reckoned greatly to their honour in England? I answered coldly, “Yes, Madam.” “Come,” said she, “you are not in earnest; but I insist on you telling me seriously what you think.” I replied, “Madam, if you command me, and will promise not to be angry, I will tell you fairly my opinion.” She promised she would. “Then,” said I, “I think this is all very well for Mesdames de Beauvau and de Grammont; but you, Madam, had no occasion to be so scrupulous.” She understood the compliment, and was pleased—and I knew she would not dislike it, as it was no secret to me that she was violently jealous of and hated her sister-in-law; and I knew, too, that her warmth against Madame du Barry was put on, that Madame de Grammont might not appear to have more zeal against the Duc de Choiseul’s enemy than she had. When she advised her husband to resign, she was more sincere. Her warmest wish was to live retired with her husband, on whom she doted; and she perhaps thought the Duchesse de Grammont did not love her brother enough to quit the world for him. She herself was once on the point of retiring into a convent from the disgusts the Duchesse de Grammont continually gave her. The Duke always sat between his wife and sister at dinner, and sometimes kissed the latter’s hand. Madame de Choiseul was timid, modest, and bashful, and had a little hesitation in her speech. Madame de Grammont took pleasure in putting her out of countenance. When the Duke was banished, his wife and sister affected to be reconciled, that their hatred might not disturb his tranquillity. Madame de Choiseul was pretty, and remarkably well made, but excessively little, and too grave for so spirituous a man. Madame de Grammont, with a fine complexion, was coarsely made, had a rough voice, and an overbearing manner, but could be infinitely agreeable when she pleased. Madame de Choiseul was universally beloved and respected, but neglected; Madame de Grammont was hated by most, liked by many, feared and courted by all, as long as her brother was in power. Her own parts, and the great party that was attached to the Duke, even after his fall, secured much court to the Duchesse de Grammont. The Duke esteemed his wife, but was tired of her virtues and gravity. His volatile gallantry did not confine itself to either.