Chantrelle had failed to come and see Elizabeth and she writes to him:
“The only thing I can do is to go away, as it is evident I cannot stay and have a baby at home. But, dear, I will try and remain till your classes are done so that if they annoy you, you can go, too. I will just do anything. The shorter my life is the better.
“I feel as if I would go mad. It is quite true what mamma says — that when you give yourself to a man he loses all respect for you. But I do not say so of you, Eugene. I do not complain. What is the use?
Chantrelle’s Answer
“The thing is done and I am ruined for life. The only thing for me to do is to go to the streets and shorten my life as much as possible. I never thought — but it is useless speaking.
“Well, my darling, do not annoy yourself about anything pertaining to me, as it is all over now. If you do not intend coming again let me know. It will be the last time I will ever trouble you. Ever your very loving Lizzie.”
And what does Chantrelle say to this generous release? Does he answer it as a lover should? No, he sits down to a callous review of what injury is done to his health and pocket by being annoyed and worried.
“My dear Lizzie, you want me to answer your letter. I am sure I don’t know what to say. You say you love me, but I am at a loss to know whether you do or not. I dare say you think you do, but you seem so cool and possessed at times when I am unhappy, that I sometimes fancy you are deceiving yourself.
“I would not for the life of me cause you the slightest grief, and I think all I can do for you is to sacrifice my feelings altogether and let you have your own way in everything. I cannot marry you at present for many reasons.
“I scarcely know whether I shall be able to take you in July. I am quite willing to trust you, but I would not expose you to any temptation. I could not keep D” — Driggs, a young man who lodged with him — “with me if you were my wife.
When Love Is Gone
“I have no doubt you would be as true as most women, but you have told me so many stories that I cannot always believe what you say. If I loved you less I would take you more readily, because I would not be so jealous. You are so young, I must think for you, or we might both rush into endless misery.
“However, I suppose I must let you have your own way in the matter. You ask when you may see me. I really don’t know, for I don’t intend to come over to your house in a hurry.
“What is the use of making you and myself miserable? You have no idea when I get annoyed in that way, what it costs me in the loss of health and money.
“I don’t care for it myself, but how are we to get married if I don’t get on and if my health fails me. I really believe if we don’t get on better, we had better give up. It would be the greatest relief I could get under the circumstances, for then I would have no anxiety for the future.
“If I had a fortune I should not care what you did. If you deceived me it would break my heart, but you would have something to live on. If you made me unhappy I could not get on and we should starve.
“Why do you not come over yourself? Come over this afternoon. I’ll be waiting for you. Do come, darling, if you can. Ever your loving Eugene.”
This ill-fated pair were married in August of 1868, and two months later their eldest child, Eugene, was born.
Even in that short space of time Chantrelle had shown that whatever love he held toward his wife was gone. Henceforth he was to abuse her, to make her the butt of his blasphemy, to lay violent hands on her, to terrify her with threats of poisoning and shooting her.
One time she writes to her mother from Portobello, a seaside resort near Edinburgh where they spent a month each year, that she had gone to bed and had been sleeping for an hour or so, when—
“I was awakened by several severe blows. I got one on the side of the head which knocked me stupid. When I came to myself I could not move my face, and this morning I found my jaw out of place, my mouth inside skinned and my face all swollen.
“The servants who sleep in the next room heard it all, also the woman to whom the house belongs. They heard him say he would make mince-meat of me, and terrible language.
“I am ashamed to see any of them. The only thing for me to do is to leave him and go to some quiet place with the children — Eugene and Louis — for he talks of smashing them, too.
Refuge in Tears
“If I had money I should be away. Should I consult a lawyer? I am sorry to trouble you, but if he murders me, you might have been sorry not to have heard from me.”
And again about the same time Chantrelle struck her as she was nursing baby Louis and struck the baby. The servants heard him say twice he would murder her and the children, and they went for the police. Elizabeth heard them coming and ran downstairs and begged them to go away.
She consulted a lawyer once about obtaining a divorce, but gave up the idea when she realized the publicity it would entail.
From the united evidence of her servants throughout this trying period it was clearly demonstrated that not a harsh word escaped from this sorely wronged wife’s lips.
She took refuge in silence, in tears or left the room. She was a “nice gentle lady” at all times, and devoted to her children and her home. Sometimes when things became too unendurable she went to her mother’s, but always returned to Chantrelle for the sake of her children and her fear of public exposure.
Chantrelle at first was prosperous, but he was spending his money lavishly not on his family, but his own pleasures. He was a heavy drinker and a constant visitor to certain houses in the town where mercenary love was dispensed.
On Christmas Day
A drunken, unfaithful husband, his habits began to injure his professional work. He paid small attention to it. His classes grew smaller, and fewer pupils came to him for private tuition. He was in difficulties and owing money.
In October of 1877 he insured Elizabeth’s life for one thousand pounds in case of death by accident. He made sure by inquiry of tire agent as to what constituted “accidental death.”
Elizabeth, who lived in constant dread of her husband now, had objected to this insurance and been silenced. A few days before her death she visited her mother.
“My life is insured now, and, mamma,” she said, “you will see that my life will go soon after the insurance.”
“You are talking nonsense,” her mother replied. “You should not be afraid of that. There’s no fears of that.”
“I cannot help thinking it. Something within me tells me it will be so,” said Elizabeth somberly.
But a year before Chantrelle had assaulted her and neighbors had summoned the police who had arrested Chantrelle. He had cursed and sworn as he was being removed, “I’ll do for her yet.” He had been convicted of breach of the peace and bound over to keep the peace.
Lately he had betrayed a conciliatory attitude which under the circumstances was more terrifying to Elizabeth than open brutality, yet even then she was eager to do anything to create a harmonious atmosphere for her children.
There was a new baby, too. She never quite lost hope that Chantrelle would reform. She did not know that only a short while before he had tried to take liberties with a young servant, who had come in to help her faithful Mary Byrne, a devoted Irish servant.