My year of service in the Musketeers being over, the King, after a time, gave me, without purchase, a company of cavalry in the Royal Roussillon, in garrison at Mons, and just then very incomplete.  I thanked the King, who replied to me very obligingly.  The company was entirely made up in a fortnight.  This was towards the middle of April.

A little before, that is, on the 27th of March, the King made seven new marechals of France.  They were the Comte de Choiseul, the Duc de Villeroy, the Marquis de Joyeuse, Tourville, the Duc de Noailles, the Marquis de Boufllers, and Catinat.  These promotions caused very great discontent.  Complaint was more especially made that the Duc de Choiseul had not been named.  The cause of his exclusion is curious.  His wife, beautiful, with the form of a goddess—­notorious for the number of her gallantries—­was very intimate with the Princess de Conti.  The King, not liking such a companion for his daughter, gave the Duc de Choiseul to understand that the public disorders of the Duchess offended him.  If the Duke would send her into a convent, the Marechal’s baton would be his.  The Duc de Choiseul, indignant that the reward of his services in the war was attached to a domestic affair which concerned himself alone, refused promotion on such terms.  He thus lost the baton; and, what was worse for him, the Duchess soon after was driven from Court, and so misbehaved herself, that at last he could endure her no longer, drove her away himself, and separated from her for ever.

Mademoiselle la grande Mademoiselle, as she was called, to distinguish her from the daughter of Monsieur—­or to call her by her name, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, died on Sunday the 5th of April, at her palace in the Luxembourg, sixty-three years of age, and the richest private princess in Europe.  She interested herself much in those who were related to her, even to the lowest degree, and wore mourning for them, however far removed.  It is well known, from all the memoirs of the time, that she was greatly in love with M. de Lauzun, and that she suffered much when the King withheld his permission to their marriage.  M. de Lauzun was so enraged, that he could not contain himself, and at last went so far beyond bounds, that he was sent prisoner to Pignerol, where he remained, extremely ill-treated, for ten years.  The affection of Mademoiselle did not grow cold by separation.  The King profited by it, to make M. de Lauzun buy his liberty at her expense, and thus enriched M. du Maine.  He always gave out that he had married Mademoiselle, and appeared before the King, after her death, in a long cloak, which gave great displeasure.  He also assumed ever afterwards a dark brown livery, as an external expression of his grief for Mademoiselle, of whom he had portraits everywhere.  As for Mademoiselle, the King never quite forgave her the day of Saint Antoine; and I heard him once at supper reproach her in jest, for having fired the cannons of the Bastille upon his troops.  She was a little embarrassed, but she got out of the difficulty very well.