When the hero’s body reached Paris, the King ordered it to be placed in the Chapel of St. Denis, usually allotted to the Royal family. It was not only in the French capital that people of all classes came to swell the funeral procession, artisans leaving their work unfinished for that purpose, but all the way along the road from the Rhine country, marks of honour and respect were paid, alike by friend and foe. The Court, the Parliament, the University, the Municipality, all attended the Marshal’s funeral, and the most celebrated divines vied with one another in eulogising him from the pulpit. Père Mascaron, in his funeral oration, says, ‘Au milieu du tumulte et du bruit des armes, les sentimens du chrétien, accompagnoient, animoient, et perfectionnoient, en lui, ceux du heros.’
In emergencies his decisions were prompt; where the matter did not press he took time to consider. His military skill needs no encomium; to that his whole life bore testimony. His early education had taught him to revere discipline, and he consequently submitted willingly to those in authority, except—as in the case of the Prime Minister Louvois, who presumed to dictate to him on military tactics—when they interfered in matters with which they were not competent to deal. The love his soldiers bore him bordered upon worship, and he returned their affection. Although a strict disciplinarian, he always tempered justice with mercy; he shared the hardships of the men, and ministered to their comforts, frequently paying out of his own privy purse the arrears which he could not wring from the Government. His compassion to his prisoners made him esteemed among his enemies; and he was most severe in the prohibition of pillage. In one of his campaigns (we allude to it with deep regret), his own troops, driven to terrible straits in the matter of provisions, and burning with the desire to take reprisals for cruelties practised on their countrymen, Turenne not only sanctioned, but enforced, devastation and destruction in the Palatinate; so much so, that the Elector wrote him a furious letter, terminating with a challenge. His love of truth was proverbial; his simple word outweighed the oaths of other men, and his own memoirs vouch for his modesty of speech. When he alluded to a defeat, he used to say, ‘The battle I lost;’ when to a victory, ‘The battle we gained.’ He was moral and religious; he hated excess of any kind, and, with the exception of occasional attacks of gout, his health was good to the end. In appearance, Turenne was about the middle height, broad shoulders, bushy eyebrows, and rather heavy features; simple but decent in dress.
In youth he had loved athletic exercises and military studies too well to give his thoughts to other branches of learning; but as years passed on, he became aware how necessary is general knowledge to a commander, and he gave his mind to the study of history, geography, languages, etc. He was not carried away by impulse, but calm in adversity as in prosperity, unmoved by abuse or praise, he went like an arrow straight to the mark. His pride was that of birth; his glory was in the honour of his house, never in his own. He treated his brother as a sovereign, and even yielded the pas to his nephew, while he, the latter, was still a child.
Numerous anecdotes are told of Turenne, which redound to his advantage. An officer, wishing to ingratiate himself with the general, showed him a way to obtain a large sum of money, and ‘no one be the wiser.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Turenne coldly; ‘I have had plenty of such chances before now, without taking advantage of them.’
Another time, the inhabitants of a certain town came to offer him a considerable bribe if he would not pass through their district. ‘Keep your money,’ was the reply; ‘you do not lie in my line of march.’
Walking one evening on the ramparts of a town, he was attacked by several robbers, who insisted on his giving them a ring he habitually wore. The Marshal calmly began to parley with them. ‘See, my friends,’ he said, ‘we will come to terms. If you will leave me in possession of that trinket, I will promise you a hundred louis, which is considerably above its value. I have not the money on my person, but if one of you will come and claim it to-morrow, I will guarantee your safety.’
No one ever doubted the Marshal’s given word. The next morning, surrounded by his staff, Turenne received the robbers’ messenger, and giving him the money, dismissed him with courtesy, much to the surprise and amusement of his officers, when made acquainted with the facts of the case.
One day a servant of his household, coming behind him so quickly as not to recognise the Marshal, dealt him a heavy blow; overcome with confusion, the man apologised in the humblest terms, offering as an excuse that he thought it was a fellow-servant. ‘Well,’ said his master, smiling good-naturedly, though still smarting from the blow, ‘even if it had been George, you need not have hit so hard.’
Turenne was mourned, not only by his countrymen and his allies, but his very enemies showed the greatest respect for his memory. The spot where he fell was left untouched, and the tree under which he had reposed shortly before his death was held sacred by the peasants, and pointed out by them to passers-by. Neither did it perish through decay, but was carried off branch by branch as trophies, by soldiers of all nations. In 1781 the Cardinal de Rohan erected a monument to his memory at Salzbach, which was repaired by Moreau in 1801, and about thirty years afterwards a large pyramid of granite was raised on the spot.
Many and strange were the vicissitudes which befell the body of this great man. It was placed (as we have said) in the Royal Chapel of St. Denis, by order of Louis XIV., and when the tombs of the royal family were desecrated in the Revolution of 1793, Turenne’s embalmed body was so well preserved as to be an object of desire to the owner of a Museum of Natural History. He gained permission to place it there, and it was exhibited among the skeletons and fossils of animals for some time, and then removed to an antiquarian museum for the edification of its members. Buonaparte, who had a profound admiration for the memory of the great soldier, caused the remains to be carried with much solemnity to the Church of the Invalides, and there deposited, while the Marshal’s heart, which had been placed in the Abbey of Cluny, was restored to his family.