Some people will never tire of repeating that the American War of Independence was essentially a prelude to the French Revolution, and that the latter was a mere continuation of the former. They will cite Lafayette and Tom Paine, but they will pass over in silence Jefferson’s and Gouverneur Morris’s critical remarks and they probably will not even have heard of the crown witness for the gulf separating America’s noble struggle for freedom from the infamous horrors of the French Revolution—Charles-Armand Tuffin, Marquis de la Rouërie, born on April 13, 1750 in Brittany, a man lamentably overlooked by most historians on both sides of the Atlantic.
Charles-Armand, unfortunately, lost his father early in life and his mother found it difficult to deal with the temperamental but generous and high-minded young man. Sooner than was good for him he was sent to Paris where he joined the guards. There he fell temporarily in love with an actress, the famous Mademoiselle Beaumesnil, naively tried to join the Trappists to forget the grief of his unsuccessful suit, was retrieved by his uncle, became infatuated with another actress, Mademoiselle Fleury, and ended up by having a duel with a remote relative of the King, Count Bourbon-Busset. He almost killed the man and fled to Geneva. From there he handed in his resignation and, accompanied by three servants, started for America which he finally reached at the end of April 1777.
Did the young Marquis take leave of Marie Antoinette before he sailed for America? This was standard procedure for all volunteers because the Queen had a special enthusiasm for the cause of American liberty.1 On account of the scandal which had forced his resignation we doubt very much that he did. However, his arrival on the shores of the nascent United States was as dramatic as the circumstances of his departure. The crossing had taken almost two months, and the ship was in sight of land when it was attacked by a British cruiser which sank it on the spot. Charles-Armand with his three companions swam to shore and climbed onto the beach without a stitch on them but luckily still in possession of a full purse. Thus our hero arrived before Lafayette, and he also left after his noble rival had returned to France.
His difficulties in the beginning were considerable. After spending $480 for the command of a volunteer corps previously organized by a Swiss major (one had to pay in those days—when nobody owned draft cards—for the privilege of a commission, for the privilege to die on the battlefields), he finally received permission from George Washington to raise a legion. Under the name of “Colonel Armand” he enjoyed great popularity with the Americans.
The Marquis de Chastellux, another of the many volunteer aristocrats from Europe, met him in 1780, and from him we know that Charles-Armand had lost the gaiety of his earlier years and become a rather serious young man. He was then operating under General Gates and fighting with Baron de Kalb. In the Battle of Camden he suffered grievous losses in men and material and, finding it difficult to obtain a new supply of arms or even uniforms, he took the next available boat to France, slipped through the British blockade and, back in his own country, borrowed 50,000 livres at the handsome interest of 50 percent in order to buy new equipment. The Congress finally owed him $12,000, a quite respectable sum in those days.
After his return to the United States he distinguished himself at the siege of Yorktown where he started a lifelong friendship with a Frenchman of German extraction—Gustave de Fontevieux de Deux-Ponts, a nephew of the Duke of Zweibrücken. George Washington was so impressed by his bravery that he permitted him to select fifty of the best men available for his brigade.2
“Colonel Armand” was one of the very last French officers to go home. He had stayed in America until the end of 1783, he was in possession of a special letter of commendation from George Washington, he also owned the Grand Medal of the Order of the Cincinnati.3 Yet hardly had he returned to France accompanied by Major Shaffner, his American friend, than he realized that he had arrived too late to receive a commission. By his delay he had actually “missed the boat” of promotion. So, while Lafayette became a big public figure, doing a great deal of harm, blissfully ignoring the warnings of Gouverneur Morris, the American minister, “Colonel Armand” perforce retired to his castle, Saint Ouen de la Rouërie. There he brooded over the dry rot into which France had fallen.
In this mood of disgust and resignation he suddenly decided (though up to his neck in debts) to found a family. Through a quirk of circumstances this proved his undoing. The young woman who followed him to the altar was the daughter of the Marquis de Saint-Brice. Major Shaffner was one of the two witnesses at the ceremony and George Washington wrote him a warm letter of congratulation. Only six months later, however, his bride, always of precarious health, was dead of pulmonary tuberculosis. All the care lavished upon her by her devoted husband, who never forgot her, and by his personal friend Dr. Chévetel, had been in vain.
Charles-Armand, ardent hunter and crack shot that he was, tried to bury his grief in the wilderness of Brittany. In the meantime clouds were gathering on the political horizon. The American War had emptied the French treasury and the government tried desperately to repair the damage. Now we are in the year 1788. France is in the throes of a deep restlessness. Charles-Armand, who tried to forget his loss in hunting and shooting, was upset about the King’s refusal to restore the old constitutional order and to respect the parlements. The Estates General were not convoked, only the local parlements met and were constantly in danger of being dissolved by Louis XVI’s Minister, Beau de Loménie. Charles-Armand attended the Breton parlement in Rennes which sent a delegation of twelve noblemen to demand Loménie de Brienne’s “head” from the King. Just arrived in Paris, they were told that the King would not receive the rebellious Breton nobles. On July 14 they gave a huge dinner to certain members of the Breton colony in Paris and in fierce speeches told the King to watch out. When they returned to their respective abodes each of them was met by police officers who arrested them with lettres de cachet. Thus they ended in the Bastille.4
There they spent forty-two days, each accompanied by a servant. They hired a billiard table, drank innumerable bottles of champagne, and had a marvelous time. As soon as Loménie de Brienne fell, they were released and returned triumphantly to Brittany. Still, Charles-Armand was not too happy about this temporary victory. He went back to his castle but his anxiety increased. In a letter dated June 18, 1789 (less than a month prior to the storming of the Bastille) he had already written to his friend George Washington: “I fear two great evils for my country—anarchy on the one hand, despotism on the other.” He intimated to the President that he contemplated leaving France “to take the oath of allegiance and fidelity to the laws, government, and people of North America.”
Charles-Armand’s apprehensions grew with the increasing tensions between State and Church. Then his correspondence ceased.5 He had become aware that it was his duty to face the evil, to fight against democracy and for liberty where liberty was threatened. His voyage to America, under the circumstances, would have been nothing but an escape.
Always hostile to absolutism, Charles-Armand was in the beginning rather in favor of a return to a constitutional form of government which had been interrupted by Louis XIV. However, the Estates General, now merged into a single body, the National Assembly, as well as the privileges of the nobility were soon abolished. This meant little to our hero because in the west of France—Normandy, Brittany, and Vendée—the relationship between nobility and peasantry had always been a very friendly one. This area was and still is famous for its profound religious convictions6 and thus a real class consciousness hardly arose: Nobody could possibly know who was superior to whom in the eyes of God. The peasants took part in the festivities in the castles, and the nobility appeared at peasant weddings and baptisms, conversing, dancing, and drinking with them.
Not far from La Rouërie was Count Ranconnet de Noyan’s castle which served as hospital and dispensary for the entire region. The Count, a widower, ate at the same table with his servants. He acted as amateur physician and his daughters as nurses. Like Charles-Armand he had opposed royal absolutism and fulminated against the frivolous life at Versailles. Now, however, he was worried about the turn events had taken. Not only the Crown was under attack, but religion as well. The priests who had given the oath to the Constitution and were automatically suspended by the Vatican (because the oath had an anti-Papal character) were not accepted by the peasantry. These “intruders,” as they were called, soon had to flee the countryside. The spirit of resistance was growing everywhere.7
Old Ranconnet de Noyan sat down with Charles-Armand and drew up plans for a counterrevolution. It seemed imperative to establish contact with the insurgents and the emigrants who had gathered in Germany around the Comte d’Artois, the King’s younger brother. Charles-Armand decided to carry out this mission himself and journeyed to Coblentz and Ulm via London. There financial help and military cooperation were promised him. His hopes somewhat buoyed up, he returned to France. In Paris, where he stayed a couple of days, he met not only his old comrade-in-arms, Gustave de Fontevieux, but also Dr. Chévetel, whom he trusted as a sincere friend. Little did he dream that, in the meantime, the physician had become a rabid Jacobin and kept close touch with Danton and the infamous Marat. After telling Chévetel about his plans Charles-Armand returned to his ancestral home.
The moves preparatory to the insurrection were soon underway. There were minor clashes between the bluecoats and the peasantry in which Charles-Armand appeared as a leader directing the hand-to-hand fighting. The authorities tried to arrest him, but he slipped easily through their hands. On his side there appeared his trusted friend, Major Shaffner, and his youthful cousin, the mysterious Thérèse de Moëlien who acted as a messenger. Dressed as a huntress, the Medal of the Order of the Cincinnati around her neck, this beautiful amazon dashed across the country on a black stallion to forward letters, money, instructions. As far as we can make out, it seems that Charles-Armand, never forgetting his wife, was unable to respond to her affection for him, and that George Shaffner was deeply infatuated with her. The tragic element was the dominant note in Charles-Armand’s life.
And then the authorities, warned by Chévetel, invaded his castle from which he was forced to flee. It was ransacked from top to bottom. Now calling himself “Monsieur Millet,” Charles-Armand appeared one day here, another day there—a “Lone Ranger” in the service of God and Country. And just as the insurrection in the neighboring Vendée had been organized by one peasant and one nobleman—Jacques Cathelineau and the Count de Larochejaquelin—the rising in Brittany was also headed by such a pair: our Charles-Armand and Jean Cotterau, nicknamed “Jean Chouan.”8
In the meantime the treacherous Chévetel continued his activities. The true motives for his activities will probably never be known, but after receiving definite instructions from Danton, he went to Brittany. Charles-Armand, warned about him by his Parisian friends, told the doctor bluntly that he knew about his connections. Anybody else would have been disturbed by these revelations, but Chévetel readily admitted everything, telling the conspirators, however, that Danton and his charmed circle were fed up with the Revolution and were willing to make common cause with the insurgents.
He lied so brazenly and convincingly that not only credence was given to his words, but he was even entrusted with an important mission to London and to Liège, where he conferred with the Comte d’Artois. After all, it was expedient to make use of a man who could travel abroad freely as Chévetel could.
It had been agreed upon at Liège that the rebellion should break out the moment the liberating armies of the Coalition (Austrians, Prussians, and the French Volunteers) entered the city of Châlons-sur-Marnes. Hence the Paris government, duly warned by Chévetel, concentrated all their efforts on defending the town. The peasants under Cotterau were becoming impatient. At Saint-Ouen-des-Toits they had fought the bluecoats and were slowly gaining control of the countryside. Advancing at night, using the sinister shout of the screech owl, “Eyoo-eyoo,” to keep in touch with one another, they had become the terror of soldiers and policemen.
Charles-Armand, disappointed by the successful defense of Châlons, now set a new date for the general uprising—March 10, 1793. He made the castle of La Fosse-Hingant his headquarters and, accompanied by two servants, traveled by night from castle to castle, from village to village, organizing the rebellion. His dream was to enter Paris at the head of a peasant army.
But God, who alone fully comprehends the mystery of suffering, decreed otherwise. Not far from Saint-Malo there is the castle of La Guyomarais, then inhabited by the family of the same name. Count Guyomarais was a freedom-loving, God-fearing man, father of a large family, and loyal to his king. On January 12th at 1 o’clock in the morning Charles-Armand arrived—nearly dead from exhaustion—before the gate of the castle. Night after night he and his companions had slept under trees and in ditches, to cover better the vast expanse of France’s far west. Charles-Armand had had a bad fall from his horse, but the first of the group to be struck by illness was his servant Saint-Pierre whom he nursed back to health.
Hardly had Saint-Pierre recovered when Charles-Armand was afflicted with an enigmatic disease, probably meningitis. Tortured by high temperature he had to stay in bed. A searching party of bluecoats raided the castle, but the owner, previously warned, transferred Charles-Armand to a peasant hut where the half-delirious man escaped detection. Once the danger had passed he was brought back to the castle.
In the meantime both Fontevieux and Shaffner, back from London after a dangerous crossing, arrived at La Guyomarais. The most important piece of information they had picked up in St. Malo was the fact of the King’s execution, but they hid it from Charles-Armand. A day later the papers carried the sad news. Fontevieux who read the gazette aloud to his sick friend carefully left out all references to the dramatic end of the trial, but while he was answering a sudden call, Charles-Armand got hold of the paper and with a heart-rending cry fell back on his bed. His temperature again mounted, the doctor spoke of brain fever, and a serious crisis set in. Soon, after frightful agony, Charles-Armand rendered up his soul to God. He died without receiving the Sacraments as no nonjuring priest was available in the neighborhood.
La Rouërie dead was no less a liability than La Rouërie alive. The Count decided to bury him in a nearby wood, and with the help of a few servants and the Countess, the mournful ceremony took place in the middle of the night. No coffin was obtainable and amidst the tears of those present the earthly remains of Charles-Armand were lowered into a dark hole. A howling, icy wind made the prayers almost inaudible.
Saint-Pierre, inconsolable after his master’s death, volunteered to bring all the money, papers, and documents to La Fosse-Hingant. But whom did he meet there but Chévetel who eagerly listened to his story and suggested a hiding place for the documents Saint-Pierre had brought from La Guyomarais.
From this moment events assumed the inexorable character of a Greek tragedy. Lalligand, a collaborator of Chévetel, arrived with a large band of soldiers at La Guyomarais, and it did not take long before definite proofs were found of La Rouërie’s sojourn there. One of the servants admitted it after being soaked with liquor. The grave of Charles-Armand was discovered, the badly decomposed corpse was exhumed and a gendarme severed the head from the body.
The Guyomarais family, meanwhile, were brutally grilled by their inquisitors and, in order to force the Countess to talk, they threw the head of Charles-Armand in her face. She fainted but her husband now ceased to stall. “Yes,” he admitted, “this is the head of the man before whom you quailed. He is dead and now, of course, you are greatly relieved.” The whole family with the exception of the two youngest daughters, mere children, were arrested and dragged away. These little girls were left alone, crazed with grief, in the empty halls of the plundered castle.
And then a second blow struck La Foss-Hingant. Lalligand and Chévetel pursued the investigations and the Desilles and de la Fonchais families, Gustave de Fontevieux and the glamorous Thérèse de Moëlien were arrested. The mammoth trial of this group and of the Guyomarais family ended with twelve death sentences.
Young Madame de la Fonchais was given a chance to escape the “Nation’s Razor” if she would divulge the name of the person who had given her the money she had forwarded to Charles-Armand. This she refused to do. “But you are a mother and you have children!” the prosecutor shouted at her. “The person who gave me the money is in precisely the same position,” she replied with tears in her eyes. It was actually her sister-in-law whom she was shielding by her courageous silence.
The jailers offered the conspirators the solace of religion provided they would accept suspended priests, the “intruders.” These, of course, they flatly rejected. Thérèse de Moëlien also refused the aid of the barber to cut off her beautiful hair and she handled the scissors herself. The painful preparation for the execution took two hours: Prayers were said and they exhorted each other to fortitude. The usual howl of the mob was not heard: The dignity and noble bearing of the “Breton Conspirators” impressed everyone. And in Gustave de Fontevieux one of the many volunteer fighters for America’s freedom had gone to his reward as a martyr for his Christian convictions.
We do not know what happened to Major Shaffner. The great rebellion broke out on March 10 as planned. The major then joined the ranks of the “Chouans” and we know that he was taken prisoner near Nantes, but then suddenly all trace is lost. In all likelihood, together with other prisoners and nonjuring priests, he was placed on one of the many rafts which were sunk in the middle of the Loire. These noyades (mass-drownings) were the precursors of the indiscriminate extermination of prisoners which disgraced World War II. They were the first Katyns in modern history.
Lalligand ended on the guillotine, but Chévetel became the fat and prosperous mayor of Orly. He had switched from the Jacobins to Napoleon and from Napoleon to the Bourbons. It is not here on earth, but in the beyond that man is finally judged. The wars of the Chouans continued unabated until 1795. Only with the help of the “Infernal Hordes,” the “Black and Tans” of the Revolution, could the rebellious peasantry be subdued.
The bravery of these sturdy farmers, the determined efforts of “Colonel Armand,” of Thérèse, of George Shaffner and Gustave de Fontevieux had been in vain. The French Revolution was victorious and its evil aftermath is still with us. Our heroes themselves are almost forgotten. This in itself is strange because virtually every nook and corner of American history has been explored. Oceans of ink have been spilled over Lafayette, a vain man who had never properly understood the real spirit of the American War of Independence and who had done such great harm at the beginning of the Revolution in France.
“Colonel Armand,” whose letters to George Washington until 1791 mirrored such admiration for America and melancholic despair for France, the gallant and enigmatic Thérèse, Fontevieux, the hero of Yorktown, and—last but not least—Major Shaffner are figures worthy of consideration by budding historians of the New World.9 Let us hope that young Americans will get to know and love them, so that, one day, they will live again in the pages of novels, on the stage, and on the screen.