Before Chassagneux’s blood ever stained a roadside stone, his younger son had already received death threats from his hand. A quarrel over property had sundered the father from his children; an abrupt fall soon transformed this domestic enmity into an accusation of parricide. In Montbrison, suspicion outpaced the facts, and a man who had sought merely to protect his wife found himself imprisoned alongside her and their day labourer, while a death that had occurred in plain sight of witnesses assumed, in the town’s retelling, the aspect of murder.
Chassagneux had two sons. The elder, married in 1771, had received fifteen thousand livres and purchased a procurator’s office, an advancement that drew him away from the paternal roof. Following a rupture between them, the father offered his estate to the younger son, Claude, on condition that he provide for him and his wife. Claude, who went by the name of Laverney, was four-and-twenty years of age when he wed Mademoiselle Poyet in June 1772. Chassagneux surrendered everything, both lands and chattels. Those who framed the marriage contract took fright at the consequences of so absolute a surrender; a clause was inserted reserving to the father, in the event of discord, the usufruct of the Saint-Romain-le-Puy estate and the enjoyment of half the furnishings of his town house in Montbrison.
After dwelling together for a time beneath the same roof, Chassagneux reconsidered his deed of gift, declaring repeatedly that he had wished merely to chastise his elder son, not to strip himself for the younger. On 25 January 1775, he served a writ upon Laverney to re-enter into the usufruct of the Saint-Romain estate. His son consented, trusting that this separation would put an end to their strife; the father withdrew his suit, yet insisted upon new stipulations. An advocate acted as mediator. Laverney, anxious to show his dutiful respect, signed the instruments prepared for him without reading them, then delivered one copy to his father, entreating him to abide by its terms.
This conciliation brought no peace. Having taken counsel of jurists concerning the revocation of deeds of gift, Chassagneux was advised that filial ingratitude might warrant a retraction. The chronicler views his subsequent provocations as an endeavour to manufacture evidence against his children. The father carried off household linen, plate, and sundry articles; to preserve what remained, Laverney and his wife petitioned for the affixing of judicial seals. Chassagneux regarded this measure as an outrage.
One night, he rose from his bed, inflicted wounds upon his own face, and cried for help from his window, accusing his son and daughter-in-law of having fallen upon him. Neighbours burst into the house. Laverney had been abroad for upwards of two hours, and his wife had remained at her mother-in-law’s bedside: the accusation found no credit. Champagnac notes that the father attempted other scenes of a similar nature, yet they proved no more convincing to the neighbourhood. These failures did nothing to efface the threat he uttered shortly thereafter: he gave his son eight days to restore his property and flee, warning that, should he refuse, he would bring about the couple’s destruction.
On 2 February 1775, toward nine of the clock in the evening, supper stood waiting for Laverney and his wife. The mother had dozed off beside the hearth; the young couple had descended into the cellar. In their absence, according to Champagnac’s account, Chassagneux cast arsenic into their soup. Upon their return, he bade them not to wake their mother and pressed them to take their supper. They ate. Presently, falling grievously ill, they summoned their mother and a surgeon, who inspected the remnants of the meal and discerned, according to the chronicle, the presence of arsenic. The father is said to have declared to his wife that her children were poisoned. A priest arrived; the father sought to draw near, but the confessor thrust him back and assisted the surgeon. When the husband and wife recovered their speech, they besought the practitioner to keep silence, so great was their dread of seeing their father condemned to the scaffold.
Chassagneux departed to lodge with his elder son; his wife refused to accompany him. Laverney and his wife were striving to recover their strength when an individual clad in rags presented himself, asserting that Chassagneux had sought to hire him to assassinate the pair, promising him half his estate. Laverney is said to have enjoined him to silence, and then repaired to the King’s procurator, not to denounce the alleged crime, but to forestall the misfortunes he apprehended. The magistrate recommended prudence, advising him to bring his father before him at the very first insult.
A few months later, on 14 June, Laverney and his wife were preparing to go to their garden outside the gates of Montbrison. Catching sight of the father, Laverney proposed at first that they return indoors to let him pass. His wife paused to exchange words with an acquaintance. Chassagneux walked past the door several times, then stepped into an inn. Believing him gone, the couple set out. Outside the town, the young woman glanced back and perceived her father-in-law dogging their steps. She warned her husband. Nevertheless, they proceeded toward the garden, hard by the Capuchin convent.
Chassagneux outstripped them, returning no answer to their salutation, and assailed them with abuse. Laverney cautioned his father that he and his wife would seek refuge within the convent if he persisted in his revilings. The father quickened his pace; the couple slackened theirs. Upon reaching the garden gate, where a day labourer and a maidservant were at work, Chassagneux retraced his steps, declaring that their very existence was a burden to him. His daughter-in-law endeavoured to placate him. He caught up a stone and hurled it toward her; a second stone struck her as she made haste to open the gate. She sank to the earth, nearly senseless. Laverney demanded of his father whether he meant to kill his wife; the father replied by casting further stones.
The young woman revived and cried out for help. Mure, the day labourer, ran up. In his presence, Laverney pointed out his father as the assailant. Chassagneux fled along the Curraise road, crying aloud that they were murdering him. Mure overtook him and seized him by the collar, purposing to convey him before the King’s procurator. Vinedressers labouring in the vicinity had drawn near; Olagnier, one of their number, rebuked the father for his conduct and stepped between the men. Mure thereupon relinquished his captive. Laverney and his wife returned to the garden; the elder Olagnier resumed his labour alongside his son.
The Olagniers had moved away when Chassagneux staggered and fell, his head striking a foundation stone. The younger Olagnier shouted to his father; both men returned post-haste and approached the old man, though at first they were unable to succour him. Beuvard, another vinedresser, came up presently and asked whether the children had slain him. Olagnier replied that they had not laid a hand upon him. In the midst of their talk, a slight movement was observed in Chassagneux’s leg. Olagnier thereupon pronounced that he was not dead and summoned Beuvard to his aid; the old man strove to speak, but his voice failed him. These words did not yet form a settled narrative; the town was soon to hear others, far bolder and far more terrible.
The husband and wife returned to the body. His daughter-in-law expressed the fear that the old man had cast himself against the stone in order to have them accused. Beuvard, who hastened ahead of them toward Montbrison, could avouch neither their guilt nor their innocence; his report gave rise to the first surmises. Other vinedressers, who had hurried forward upon hearing cries without witnessing the scene, heard Madame Laverney’s weeping, beheld the blood upon the dead man’s countenance, and recalled the shouts for help. The clamour of the populace soon transmuted these conjectures into certainties.
Though at first faithful to what his eyes had beheld, the elder Olagnier altered his account beneath the questioning of the inquisitive. Others asserted that they had heard Chassagneux imploring aid against his children, or that they had seen the pair cast him down and strangle him. Champagnac notes that they did not reiterate these charges before the magistrates, yet the rumours had spread abroad. Master Ardaillon, an advocate, warned the spouses that the public outcry might lead to their arrest. Laverney refused to fly: witnesses had been present at the scene, he maintained, and he feared only those who had seen nothing.
Having taken them to dine, Ardaillon saw them apprehended by the watch. Laverney, his wife, and Mure were confined separately; their depositions agreed in every point. The surgeons noted contusions upon the face, marks upon the back, and an engorged tongue, from which they inferred a blow and strangulation. No post-mortem dissection took place; the body had remained for several hours in the sun. The surgeon Louis subsequently disputed that these signs established murder and advanced alternative explanations.
Following an instruction lasting upwards of a year, the judges of Montbrison condemned Laverney and Mure, on 9 August 1776, to undergo provisional torture. Had the requisitions of the King’s prosecutor been adopted, the two men would have been broken alive upon the wheel and consumed by fire, and Madame Laverney led to the scaffold. They entered an appeal before the Parlement of Paris. On 20 March 1777, the court ordered a supplementary judicial inquiry for the term of one year against Laverney and his wife, suspended its determination concerning Mure until the trial of the principal defendants, yet set Madame Laverney and the day labourer at liberty.
The chronicle laments its inability to furnish the ultimate issue of the affair. It presumes, from the terms of the decree, that the three accused were acquitted; yet this presumption does not constitute a definitive judgment. The recorded facts remain: after months of acrimony, the spouses had repaired to their garden, the father had hurled stones, and had subsequently fallen upon the highway before witnesses. Faltering testimonies had become freighted with occurrences that the beholders refused to confirm before the bench. The liberty restored to Madame Laverney and to Mure reveals nothing of what the high court ultimately decreed for Laverney and his wife.