There are parricides that are perhaps no such thing. This one opens, beneath the pen of counsel for the defense, with a sentence that turns the entire case upon its head: “A father died after fleeing from his children; he died after crying out for help.”
The father was named Chassagneux, of Montbrison, in Forez. Of his children, two remained to him: Julien, whom he had endowed and who had purchased an office of attorney; and Claude, known as Laverney. Upon the latter’s marriage, the father and mother made over to him all their worldly goods, both present and prospective, on the condition that he feed and maintain them for the remainder of their days.
The father soon repented of his bounties, and his regrets curdled, so counsel tells us, into a cruel and relentless hatred. His violent excesses drove his son and daughter-in-law to quit the shared roof.
Four months later, on a morning in 1775, toward half past ten, the Laverneys prepared to set out for a garden they kept at the gates of Montbrison. Catching sight of his father, the son stepped back inside to let him pass; the old man paced past the door three times, back and forth, then went to seat himself at an inn along their intended route. On the road, they met a friend, whom Laverney begged to escort them, for ever since his father had parted from them, there was no species of abuse he had not inflicted upon them. The friend could not come.
The father overtook them; they bowed to him; he replied with a torrent of abuse. When they reached the garden gate, where a day laborer and a maidservant were at work, they saw him retrace his steps, declaring that their very existence wearied him, and that he would find no peace until he had rid himself of them. His daughter-in-law sought to soothe him. “My patience is spent,” he replied, and began gathering stones. The first struck the young woman; the second caught her between the shoulder blades and threw her to the ground across the threshold. A hail of stones showered upon the son, who cried out for help. The laborer, Mure, ran up; the father fled. “Let us pursue my father,” cried Laverney; “there will be other witnesses in the vineyards; we shall bring him before the King’s prosecutor.”
It was in the course of this pursuit that the father stopped, faltered, and fell. They drew near; he had breathed his last. The son held a stick in his hand; his young wife dragged herself behind him, distraught.
From this ensued a most rigorous criminal inquest, and an indictment for parricide against the son, his wife, and the day laborer. The Gazette, which here follows the brief for the defense, gives only one version, and the issue breaks off before the final judgment. Had the old man died of a blow, or of his own fury? Therein lies the whole question; and one readily understands why an advocate chose to pose it in his very opening sentence.
Gazette des tribunaux, 1777, Parlement of Paris, Tournelle: case of the Sieur and Dame Laverney, accused of parricide.