In November 1659 the Treaty of the Pyrenees was made, which had for its basis the marriage of Louis with his cousin, Maria Theresa, and contained numerous conditions, stipulations, exchanges of territory, and the like, which were very advantageous to France. Cardinal Mazarin was unsuccessful in his endeavours to make peace between Spain and Portugal, which he desired; otherwise, matters were arranged to his satisfaction, and the marriage fixed for the spring or early summer of the ensuing year. Louis XIV., anxious to bestow some mark of special favour on Marshal Turenne, offered to revive in his honour the dormant title of Grand Connétable, the highest dignity which was in the power of the Crown to bestow. But the acceptance of the office entailed a renunciation of the Protestant religion, and Turenne was not the man to sacrifice his faith to his worldly interest. The King, on hearing the decision, invented a new title, ‘Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne, fût intitulé Maréchal Général, des Camps, et des armées du Roi.’
In the month of June, the Kings of France and Spain, attended by a brilliant assemblage of princes, nobles, and officers, met on the Ile des Faisans, formed by the river Bidassoa, which separates the two kingdoms,—a small and insignificant place, suddenly transformed into a theatre for the display of the magnificence and luxury in which the Courts of both nations delighted. The young King of France, in the flower of his age, handsome in form and features, and majestic in bearing, the venerable King Philip IV., and Anne of Austria, sumptuous in dress and imposing in manner. The brother and sister, who had not met for nearly half a century, fell on each other’s neck and shed tears of joy, though the tender affection thus manifested had not prevented them from engaging for so long a space of time in bloody warfare. Perhaps the most distinguished member of the French King’s Court was the Marshal Turenne, who kept as much as was possible in the background, until singled out by the King of Spain, who desired that he should be presented. Gazing with eager scrutiny at the world-renowned soldier, ‘That is the man,’ he said, ‘who has caused me so many sleepless nights.’ The Treaty of the Pyrenees produced a temporary lull in European hostilities; but Spain and Portugal were still at issue, and France involved in their quarrels.
In March 1661 died Cardinal Mazarin, who had been Prime Minister for sixteen years, and the King assumed the reins of government, retaining the heads of the Administration in office, but constantly consulting his faithful friend, the Vicomte, on matters political as well as military; and war being declared between England and Holland, France sided with the latter country. The Vicomtesse de Turenne died the same year, to the great sorrow of her husband. His biographer speaks of the noble lady in high terms, ‘casting but one slur on her memory,—she clung to the prejudices of her childhood, even though she had the advantage of lengthened conferences with the most eminent divines of the Church of Rome;’ Anglicè, she had remained steadfast in the Protestant faith.
Anne of Austria was no sooner dead than Louis XIV. once more declared war with Spain and the Emperor of Germany, at the same time, strengthening himself by fresh alliances with England, Holland, Sweden, and other powers. He then announced to Turenne his intention to place himself at the head of his army, and learn the art of war under the auspices of that great commander. The rapid successful advances of the French arms alarmed both England and Holland, and caused them to form a defensive league with Sweden, under the name of The Triple Alliance, the object of which was to arrest the encroachments of France.
A treaty between Spain and Portugal, by which the independence of the last-named country was established, was shortly followed by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, which compelled Louis to come to terms with Spain. The enumeration of these diplomatic relations is essential to the details of our biography.
Turenne had now leisure, although it did not last long, to turn his thoughts seriously to a subject which for some time past had occupied his mind. He had often, in his letters to his wife, expressed doubts and scruples on points of religious faith, and it is supposed that he would have embraced the Roman Catholic creed earlier, had he not feared, by so doing, to afflict and distress the wife whom he loved so dearly. Be this as it may, he now saw and conferred with the eloquent and learned Abbé de Bossuet, afterwards Bishop of Meaux, and the result was that he abjured the faith for which his house had fought and bled, and was received into the Church of Rome. Unable as we are to join in the exultation of the Marshal’s biographer on this point, we still coincide with him in the belief that no hope of worldly advancement had any part in Turenne’s change of creed. We are told that he became from that time more rigid in his morals, more circumspect in his life, and, at all events, the answer he made to his confessor deserves to be recorded. The priest asked him whether he had fallen back into a fault, of which he had repented. ‘Je n’ai jamais manqué de parole aux hommes, en manquerais-je à Dieu?’
He went very little into society, and even showed an inclination towards a monastic life, having a great desire to give himself up to the study of theology; but the King, alarmed at the prospect of losing services invaluable to the State, interfered to prevent him from taking this step. Turenne now resided in Paris, surrounded by a small circle of friends, keeping a frugal table, ‘where the conversation was far more remarkable than the fare.’
About this time occurred an episode in his life which occasioned him lasting regret. Louis XIV., feeling himself bound and crippled by the conditions of the Triple Alliance, consulted with his Prime Minister Louvois, and his faithful friend the Vicomte de Turenne, on the possibility of detaching the King of England from his share in the Treaty. Turenne was a constant visitor at the Court of the Duchess of Orleans, sister of Charles II., and he now turned his thoughts towards influencing that Princess to persuade her brother to secede from the Alliance. Now Madame had a young and very beautiful lady-in-waiting, the Marquise de Coëtquen, daughter of the Duke of Rohan-Chabot, who was a great favourite with her royal mistress. Turenne thought it would serve his purpose to win the confidence of the Duchess through the medium of her lady, and, feeling a security in the disparity of years, paid Madame de Coëtquen the most marked attention; while she, on her part, seemed to ignore the difference of age, being highly flattered by the devotion of so great a personage. A hero’s heart is proverbially susceptible (we have already seen that Turenne was not exempt from such amiable weaknesses); and he was accepted as a lover. The two were inseparable, and the liaison attracted the attention of the Duke of Orleans. Jealous of his wife’s favour at Court, he imagined that some political intrigue was being carried on, in which the Marquise and the Marshal were implicated. He accordingly directed his favourite, the fascinating Chevalier de Lorraine, to devote himself to Madame de Coëtquen, and extract the secret from her. In order to please her younger adorer, the lady wrung from the Marshal the details of the King’s conversation, which she immediately imparted to the Chevalier.
The Duke of Orleans in a fury sought the Royal presence, and complained to the King that every one was trusted with State secrets except himself; but that he had ascertained without doubt that steps were being taken to annul the Triple Alliance.
The King, indignant at the betrayal of his confidence, summoned Turenne to his presence, and burst into violent complaints against Louvois, ‘For,’ said his Majesty, ‘you and he were the only persons to whom I mentioned the subject.’ The Minister had always shown himself inimical to Turenne, and never lost an opportunity of endeavouring to lower or supplant him in the Royal favour, a circumstance of which the Marshal was well aware; but he was in no way tempted to swerve from his unwavering veracity. He exonerated the Minister, by taking the whole blame on himself, and confessed that, in a moment of weakness, he had divulged the King’s secret to Madame de Coëtquen.