Petition to both houses, famous pamphlet by Paul-Louis Courier Petition to both Houses
Gentlemen, I am
Tourangeau; Luynes I live on the right bank of the Loire, a place once considerable, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes has cut a thousand inhabitants, and that one will reduce to nothing by new persecutions, there is caution if your order.
although I guess most of you, gentlemen, do not know what happened to Luynes past few months. The news of this country have little noise in France, and especially in Paris. Thus I must, for the clarity of the narrative I have to do, take things a little high.
There was about a year on St. Martin that started with us talking about good subjects and ill subjects. What is meant by that, I do not know well, and if I knew, maybe I do not say, lest I fall out with too many people. At that time, Francis Fouquet, to the big mill, met the priest who was driving a death in the cemetery of Luynes. The passage was narrow, the priest, seeing him Fouquet on his horse, shouted to stop, it does not stop, take off his hat, he keeps it, he passes, he trots, he splashes the cure surplice. It was not all some say, and I did not hardly believe it, he swore in passing, and said he was joking (you hear me enough) of the priest and his death. That's because, gentlemen, I do not add or take away, I take no, God forbid! Fouquet's party, or seek to reduce its harm. He badly, I blame, and the blame then. Now listen to what happened to them.
Three days later, four policemen come from Fouquet, seize, take him to the prisons of Langeais, bound, gagged, barefoot, handcuffed, and addition of ignominy, two highwaymen. All three were thrown into the same cell. Fouquet was there two months, during which time his family had to survive, other resource that compassion of good people in this country, fortunately, are not uncommon. There is in us more charity than devotion. Fouquet, then, being in prison, her children did not die of hunger in this he was more fortunate than others.
They arrested about the same time, and for a cause as serious Mauclair George, who was detained five to six weeks. This one had spoken ill, they said, the government. In fact, this is possible, few people here know what is the government, our knowledge on this point are quite limited; this is not the ordinary subject of our meditations, and if George Mauclair in wanted to talk, I'm not surprised that he has spoken ill, but I am surprised that the have put in jail for that. It's a bit harsh, I think. I agree more indulgence we had for another, known to everyone in Luynes, who said in open market, at the end of the Mass, loudly, publicly, he kept his wine for sale to the return of Bonaparte, adding that he would wait much, and other such nonsense. You consider that, gentlemen, that does not sell or kept his wine, but he drank it. It was my opinion in time. We could not speak ill. Mauclair had not said so much to be imprisoned, this one however, was allowed to rest, why? that it is good subject: both? it is about bad and he has displeased those who keep the police: that's the point, gentlemen. Chateaubriand said in the forbidden book that everyone reads: You have two weights and two measures ; For the same act, one is condemned, the other acquitted. He heard them talk, I think, what happens in Paris, but in Luynes, gentlemen, is all the same. Are you good with such and such? good topic, we let you live. Have you supported a lawsuit against such, failed to greet him, quarreled with his servant, or threw a stone at his dog? you're wrong about, hence seditious you apply the law, and sometimes you applied a little roughly, as we did recently in ten of our most peaceful people, God-fearing people and the mayor, most fathers , growers, laborers, artisans, whom no had to complain, good neighbors, friends, informal, helpful to all without reproach in their state, their habits, their conduct, but worthless. It is a singular story, which is and will long to loud noise at home, for us, village people, we are not accustomed to such coups. The case of Mauclair, and another jailed for failing off his hat, by the way, the cure, the dead, anybody, this is nothing compared.
This was the day of Lent, March 25, an hour in the morning while asleep, forty policemen entered the city, where the hostel where they were staying First, having made their dispositions, taken all their measures and guidance they needed from the first dawn of day they are released into the houses. Luynes, gentlemen, is, in magnitude, half of the Palais-Royal. The terror was soon everywhere. Everyone flees or hides, and some caught in bed, were torn from the arms of their wives or their children, but most naked in the streets, or fleeing into the countryside, falling into the hands of those who were waiting outside . After a long scene of tumult and shouting, ten people arrested remain: it was all that had been taken. It takes them, their parents, their children would have followed, if the authority were permitted.
Authority, gentlemen, this is the big word in France. Elsewhere, the law says, by the authority. Oh! that the father would be happy Canaye us if he could relive a moment! he found everywhere wrote: Point of reason; authority. It is true that this is not the authority of the Councils or Fathers of the Church, still less of lawyers, but it is one of the gendarmes, who is as good as another.
were removed so these miserable without telling them what they were accused, nor the fate that awaited them, and they defended their loved ones to lead, support them to the gates of prisons. We rejected Children who demanded another look from their father, and wanted to know what place he would be buried. Of the ten arrested this time there were none that might leave a family abandonment. Brulon and his wife, both in the dungeons full six months, their children, so long, have remained orphans. Pierre Aubert, a widower, had a boy and a girl, it eleven years, another still younger, but at that age, gentleness and intelligence already of interest to everyone. To this was added so the pity inspired by their misfortune, all his best to help. Nothing they had missed, whether paternal care could replace themselves; small but soon fell into a melancholy that we could do distract. That night, the police, and his father in chains, never be effaced from his memory. The feeling of terror that she had kept a frightful awakening never left him again the joy nor the games of his age, it has only been languishing, and burn slowly. Refusing all food, she always called his father. It was thought, by showing him, soothe his sorrow, and perhaps back to life, she got too late, the entrance to the prison. He saw her, he kissed her, he flatters himself to kiss her again, he does not know all his misfortune, that quiver to teach him the keepers of these same places. At the bottom of those horrible houses, he saw hope some day to finally be restored to the light and find his daughter for two weeks she died.
Justice, Equity, Providence! idle words which we abused! Somewhere I turn my eyes, I see that the crime triumphant and oppressed innocence. I know one who, by dint of treason, perjury and follies all together, could not eat his ruin a family who plows the field of his fathers is immersed in the dungeons and disappears forever. Turn our eyes to these sad examples, which would give the well doubt and even of virtue.
All these poor people were arrested as I tell you, were taken at Tours, and then jailed. After a few days, they learned they were Bonapartist, but they would not convict them on that, nor do their trial. They were sent elsewhere, with great reason for it is good to tell you, gentlemen, between those who accused and those who were tried as Bonapartist, they were the only ones who had not perhaps point swore loyalty Bonaparte, point sought his favor, nor protested their devotion to his sacred person. The magistrate, who continues with such rigor today, under the pretext of Bonapartism, dealt even their children a few years ago, but for any other reason for refusing to serve Bonaparte. It was by the same henchmen, enter the draft dodger, or lead to the galleys child who preferred his father to Bonaparte. Nay! the failure of the child, he seized the same father, was selling the field, the oxen and plow the unfortunate whose son had failed twice at the call of Bonaparte. These are the people who accuse us of Bonapartism. For me, I am not accusing nor condemns, because I do not want no job, and have hatred for anyone, but I argue that in no case can be any reason to stop at Luynes ten or one hundred miles to Paris, for the same thing. There would have to Luynes ten robbers recognized among the inhabitants, ten killers domiciled; it is so clear, it seems to me that soon proved said. So these are ten enemies of the king being deprived of their liberty, ten men dangerous to the state. Yes, gentlemen, a hundred leagues from Paris, in a village rejected, ignored, not even crossing point, where you can only by roads impracticable, there are conspirators there ten, ten enemies of the State and King, ten men he must ensure, with care however. Secrecy is the soul of any military operation. At midnight one rides a horse; we share; one arrives quietly at the gates of Luynes; point guards to kill, no posts surprise, you enter, and by measures so taken, it manages to capture a woman , a barber, a shoemaker, four or five laborers or farmers, and the monarchy is saved.
Shall I say? Real seditious those who are found everywhere, and those who, armed with the power still see their enemies in the king's enemies, and try to make them so by dint of harassment, and finally those who are in Luynes ten men to stop, ten families to grieve, to ruin by the king, these are the enemies of the king. The facts speak, gentlemen. The perpetrators were certainly other reasons that the public interest. I do not enter in this review and I just wanted to let you know our ills, and by you, if possible, obtain the end. But I've not yet said all, gentlemen.
Our ten detainees, suspected of having spoken ill, the court of Tours declared that he was not judge of words, were transferred to Orleans. While being dragged from prison to prison, other scenes were going to Luynes. One night they set fire to the mayor's house. It took them little this family, respectable in many respects, does not perish in the flames. However rescuers arrived on time. Thereupon gendarmes walk: you stop, it takes, it could imprison all those who appear guilty. Justice side of this time seemed to the mayor, he suspected anyone, perhaps with reason. I will not weary the point, gentlemen, details of this procedure that I do not know well, and which still continues. I would only add that the first ten orders, we ordered two to deportation (as it should not be that the authority had wrongly), two are in jail, six, returned without trial, returned to country, ruined for the most infirm, unable to resume their work. These, it is reasonable to believe that they had not even spoken ill. God willing, they never find the time to act!
But you will believe Luynes a den of robbers, of incorrigible criminals, a hotbed of rebellion, conspiracy against the state. It will seem that the village, locked in full peace, surprised by the police under cover of night, which it takes ten prisoners, and such shipments or recur frequently, can not be populated as an enemy of any breed society. To be able to judge, gentlemen, you must first note Touraine is that, in all provinces of the kingdom, not only the most peaceful, but perhaps the only peaceful for twenty five years. Indeed, or find yourself, I'm not in France but throughout Europe, a piece of land inhabited, where there has been during this period, no war, no proscriptions or disorders of any kind? That's what we can say that of Touraine, free of both civil discord and foreign invasion, seemed reserved in heaven for being, in these stormy times, the only refuge of peace. We had hearsay disasters of Lyon, the horrors of the Vendee, and kills the human high priest of reason, and massacres of calculated genius who invented the Great War and the high police, but then, so many evils, we were feeling as noise, calm in the midst of storms, like the oasis surrounded by the shifting sands of desert.
What if you go back to earlier times, after the disastrous side of Poitiers and Agincourt, when the kingdom was beset by enemy armies, Touraine, untouched, virgin, untouched by any violence, was the refuge of our kings.
These disorders, which, extending over a fire, covered the ruins of France, during the imprisonment of King John, stopped campaigning watered Cher and the Loire. For such is the advantage of our position, away from the border and the capital, we feel the latest popular movements and tremors of war. Never have seen women Tours smoke of a camp.
But in this province, always so happy, so peaceful, so calm, it is no more peaceful than Luynes Township. There, no one knows what it's like theft, murder, violence, and the oldest in the country, or you live long, there were neither seen nor provosts archers, those who came before, in the year past, to learn to live with Fouquet. Here, it is unknown to the names of factions and parties, we cultivate his fields, we does not meddle with anything else. The hatred has sown throughout the revolution have not sprouted at home, or revolution had caused no casualties or new fortunes. We practice the most divine commandment to obey the powers, but later warned of change, fear of not shouting about: Long live the King! Long live the League! we do not scream anything at all, and this policy we had succeeded, until the death Fouquet passed without taking off his hat. Even now, I am surprised that this has taken the guise of seditious cries to persecute us, any other would have been more plausible, and I think we might as well have us burn as tainted with the heresy of our ancestors, that we deport or imprison us as seditious. However
Luynes you see is not, gentlemen, as you would have thought, a center of rebellion, one of these dens that engages in public vengeance, but the bed of the quietest most subject province or in the whole kingdom. It was so at least there before we lit by glaring inequities, resentments and hatreds that go out of time. For I must tell you, gentlemen, this country is not what it was and if he was quiet for centuries, it is now. Terror now reigns and only cease to make way for revenge. Set fire to the mayor's house, a few months ago, shows you how much the rage was then mounted, since it is increased, and this among people who, until now, had shown that gentle, patience, submission to any scheme bearable. Injustice has revolted. Reduced to despair by the magistrates themselves, their natural supports, oppressed in the name of law to protect them, they know no brake, because those who govern them have not known measurement. If the duty of legislators is to prevent crimes, hurry up, gentlemen, to an end to these dissensions. We need your wisdom and goodness of the king to make this unfortunate country that has lost the peace.
Paris, December 10, 1816.
Paul-Louis Courier
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