THE MEDIUMSHIP OF LOTTIE FOWLER.
As I was introduced to Lottie Fowler many years before I met Bessie
Fitzgerald, I suppose the account of her mediumship should have come
first; but I am writing this veracious narrative on no fixed or
artificial plan, but just as it occurs to me, though not from memory,
because notes were taken of every particular at the time of occurrence.
In 1874 I was largely employed on the London Press, and constantly sent
to report on anything novel or curious, and likely to afford matter for
an interesting article. It was for such a purpose that I received an
order from one of the principal newspapers in town to go and have a
complimentary _seance_ with an American clairvoyant newly arrived in
England, Miss Lottie Fowler. Until I received my directions I had never
heard the medium's name, and I knew very little of clairvoyance. She was
lodging in Conduit Street, and I reached her house one morning as early
as ten o'clock, and sent in a card with the name of the paper only
written on it. I was readily admitted. Miss Fowler was naturally anxious
to be noticed by the press and introduced to London society. I found her
a stylish-looking, well-dressed woman of about thirty, with a pleasant,
intelligent face. Those of my readers who have only met her since
sickness and misfortune made inroads on her appearance may smile at my
description, but I repeat that seventeen years ago Lottie Fowler was
prosperous and energetic-looking. She received me very cordially, and
asked me into a little back parlor, of which, as it was summer weather,
both the windows and doors were left open. Here, in the sunshine, she
sat down and took my hand in hers, and began chatting of what she wished
and hoped to do in London. Suddenly her eyes closed and her head fell
back. She breathed hard for a few minutes, and then sat up, still with
her eyes closed, and began to talk in a high key, and in broken English.
This was her well-known control, "Annie," without doubt one of the best
clairvoyants living. She began by explaining to me that she had been a
German girl in earth life, and couldn't speak English properly, but I
should understand her better when I was more familiar with her. She then
commenced with my birth by the sea, described my father's personality
and occupation, spoke of my mother, my brothers and sisters, my
illnesses, my marriage, and my domestic life. Then she said, "Wait! now
I'll go to your house, and tell you what I see there." She then repeated
the names of all my children, giving a sketch of the character of each
one, down to the "baby with the flower name," as she called my little
Daisy. After she had really exhausted the subject of my past and
present, she said, "You'll say I've read all this out of your mind, so
now I'll tell you what I see in the future. You'll be married a second
time." Now, at this period I was editing a fashionable magazine, and
drew a large number of literary men around me. I kept open house on
Tuesday evenings, and had innumerable friends, and I _may_ (I don't say
I _had_), but I may have sometimes speculated what my fate might be in
the event of my becoming free. The _seance_ I speak of took place on a
Wednesday morning; and when "Annie" told me I should be married a second
time, my thoughts involuntarily took to themselves wings, I suppose, for
she immediately followed up her assertion by saying, "No! not to the man
who broke the tumbler at your house last night. You will marry another
soldier." "No, thank-you," I exclaimed; "no more army men for me. I've
had enough of soldiers to last me a lifetime." "Annie" looked very
grave. "You _will_ marry another soldier," she reiterated; "I can see
him now, walking up a terrace. He is very tall and big, and has brown
hair cut quite short, but so soft and shiny. At the back of his head he
looks as sleek as a mole. He has a broad face, a pleasant, smiling face,
and when he laughs he shows very white teeth. I see him knocking at your
door. He says, 'Is Mrs. Ross-Church at home?' 'Yes, sir.' Then he goes
into a room full of books. 'Florence, my wife is dead. Will you be my
wife?' And you say 'Yes.'" "Annie" spoke so naturally, and I was so
astonished at her knowledge of my affairs, that it never struck me till
I returned home that she had called me by my name, which had been kept
carefully from her. I asked her, "When will my husband die?" "I don't
see his death anywhere," she answered. "But how can I marry again unless
he dies?" I said. "I don't know, but I can't tell you what I don't see.
I see a house all in confusion, papers are thrown about, and everything
is topsy-turvy, and two people are going different ways; and, oh, there
is so much trouble and so many tears! But I don't see any death
anywhere."
I returned home, very much astonished at all Miss Fowler had said
regarding my past and present, but very incredulous with respect to her
prophecies for the future. Yet, three years afterwards, when much of
what she told me had come to pass, I was travelling from Charing Cross
to Fareham with Mr. Grossmith, to give our entertainment of "_Entre
Nous_," when the train stopped as usual to water at Chatham. On the
platform stood Colonel Lean, in uniform, talking to some friends. I had
never set eyes on him till that moment; but I said at once to Mr.
Grossmith, "Do you see that officer in the undress uniform? That is the
man Lottie Fowler told me I should marry." Her description had been so
exact that I recognized him at once. Of course, I got well laughed at,
and was ready after a while to laugh at myself. Two months afterwards,
however, I was engaged to recite at the Literary Institute at Chatham,
where I had never set foot in my life before. Colonel Lean came to the
Recital, and introduced himself to me. He became a visitor at my house
in London (which, by the by, had been changed for one in a _terrace_),
and two years afterwards, in, June 1879, we were married. I have so far
overcome a natural scruple to make my private affairs public, in justice
to Lottie Fowler. It is useless narrating anything to do with the
supernatural (although I have been taught that this is a wrong term, and
that nothing that exists is _above_ nature, but only a continuation of
it), unless one is prepared to prove that it was true. Lottie Fowler did
not make a long stay in England on that occasion. She returned to
America for some time, and I was Mrs. Lean before I met her again. The
second visit was a remarkable one. I had been to another medium, who had
made me very unhappy by some prophecies with regard to my husband's
health; indeed, she had said he would not live a couple of years, and I
was so excited about it that my friend Miss Schonberg advised our going
then and there to see Lottie Fowler, who had just arrived in England,
and was staying in Vernon Place, Bloomsbury; and though it was late at
night, we set off at once. The answer to our request to see Miss Fowler
was that she was too tired to receive any more visitors that day. "Do
ask her to see me," I urged. "I won't detain her a moment; I only want
to ask her one question." Upon this, we were admitted, and found Lottie
nearly asleep. "Miss Fowler," I began, "you told me five years ago that
I should be married a second time. Well, I _am_ married, and now they
tell me I shall loose my husband." And then I told her how ill he was,
and what the doctors said, and what the medium said. "You told me the
truth before," I continued; "tell it me now. Will he die?" Lottie took a
locket containing his hair in her hand for a minute, and then replied
confidently, "They know nothing about it. He will not die--that is not
yet--not for a long while." "But _when_?" I said, despairingly. "Leave
that to God, child," she answered, "and be happy now." And in effect
Colonel Lean recovered from his illness, and became strong and hearty
again. But whence did Miss Fowler gain the confidence to assert that a
man whom she had never seen, nor even heard of, should recover from a
disease which the doctors pronounced to be mortal? From that time Lottie
and I became fast friends, and continue so to this day. It is a
remarkable thing that she would never take a sixpence from me in payment
for her services, though I have sat with her scores of times, nor would
she accept a present, and that when she has been sorely in need of
funds. She said she had been told she should never prosper if she
touched my money. She has one of the most grateful and affectionate and
generous natures possible, and has half-starved herself for the sake of
others who lived upon her. I have seen her under sickness, and poverty,
and trouble, and I think she is one of the kindest-hearted and best
women living, and I am glad of even this slight opportunity to bear
testimony to her disposition. At one time she had a large and
fashionable _clientele_ of sitters, who used to pay her handsomely for a
_seance_, but of late years her clients have fallen off, and her
fortunes have proportionately decreased. She has now returned to the
Southern States of America, and says she has seen the last of England.
All I can say is, that I consider her a great personal loss as a referee
in all business matters as well as a prophet for the future. She also,
like Bessie Fitzgerald, is a great medical diagnoser. She was largely
consulted by physicians about the Court at the time of the Prince of
Wales' dangerous illness, and predicted his recovery from the
commencement. It was through her mediumship that the body of the late
Lord Lindesay of Balcarres, which was stolen from the family vault, was
eventually recovered; and the present Lord Lindesay gave her a beautiful
little watch, enamelled and set in diamonds, in commemoration of the
event. She predicted the riot that took place in London some years ago,
and the Tay Bridge disaster; but who is so silly as to believe the
prophecies of media now-a-days? There has hardly been an event in my
life, since I have known Lottie Fowler, that she has not prepared me for
beforehand, but the majority of them are too insignificant to interest
the reader. One, however, the saddest I have ever been called upon to
encounter, was wonderfully foretold. In February, 1886, Lottie (or
rather, "Annie") said to me, "There is a great trouble in store for you,
Florris" (she always called me "Florris"); "you are passing under black
clouds, and there is a coffin hanging over you. It will leave your
house." This made me very uneasy. No one lived in my house but my
husband and myself. I asked, "Is it my own coffin?" "No!" "Is it my
husband's?" "No; it is that of a much younger person."
I questioned her very closely, but she would not tell me any more, and I
tried to dismiss the idea from my mind. Still it would constantly recur,
for I knew, from experience, how true her predictions were. At last I
felt as if I could bear the suspense no longer, and I went to her and
said, "You _must_ tell me that the coffin you spoke of is not for one of
my children, or the uncertainty will drive me mad." "Annie" thought a
minute, and then said slowly, "No; it is not for one of your children."
"Then I can bear anything else," I replied. The time went on, and in
April an uncle of mine died. I rushed again to Lottie Fowler. "Is _this_
the death you prophesied?" I asked her. "No," she replied; "the coffin
must leave your house. But this death will be followed by another in the
family," which it was within the week. The following February my
next-door neighbors lost their only son. I had known the boy for years,
and I was very sorry for them. As I was watching the funeral
preparations from my bedroom window, I saw the coffin carried out of the
hall door, which adjoined mine with only a railing between. Knowing that
many prophetical media _see_ the future in a series of pictures, it
struck me that Lottie must have seen this coffin leaving, and mistaken
the house for mine. I went to her again. This proves how the prediction
had weighed all this time upon my mind. "Has not the death you spoke of
taken place _now_?" I asked her. "Has not the coffin left my house?"
"No," she answered; "it will be a relative, one of the family. It is
much nearer now than it was." I felt uncomfortable, but I would not
allow it to make me unhappy. "Annie" had said it was not one of my own
children, and so long as they were spared I felt strong enough for
anything.
In the July following my eldest daughter came to me in much distress.
She had heard of the death of a friend, one who had been associated with
her in her professional life, and the news had shocked her greatly. She
had always been opposed to Spiritualism. She didn't see the good of it,
and thought I believed in it a great deal more than was necessary. I had
often asked her to accompany me to _seances_, or to see trance media,
and she had refused. She used to say she had no one on the other side
she cared to speak to. But when her young friend died, she begged me to
take her to a medium to hear some news of him, and we went together to
Lottie Fowler. "Annie" did not wait for any prompting, but opened the
ball at once. "You've come here to ask me how you can see your friend
who has just passed over," she said. "Well, he's all right. He's in this
room now, and he says you will see him very soon." "To which medium
shall I go?" said my daughter. "Don't go to any medium. Wait a little
while, and you will see him with your own eyes." My daughter was a
physical medium herself, though I had prevented her sitting for fear it
should injure her health; and I believed, with her, that "Annie" meant
that her friend would manifest through her own power. She turned to me
and said, "Oh, mother, I shall be awfully frightened if he appears to me
at night;" and "Annie" answered, "No, you won't be frightened when you
see him. You will be very pleased. Your meeting will be a source of
great pleasure on both sides." My daughter had just signed a lucrative
engagement, and was about to start on a provincial tour. Her next
request was, "Tell me what you see for me in the future." "Annie"
replied, "I cannot see it clearly. Another day I may be able to tell you
more, but to-day it is all dim. Every time I try to see it a wall seems
to rise behind your head and shut it out." Then she turned to me and
said, "Florris, that coffin is very near you now. It hangs right over
your head!" I answered carelessly, "I wish it would come and have done
with it. It is eighteen months now, Annie, since you uttered that dismal
prophecy!" Little did I really believe that it was to be so quickly and
so terribly fulfilled. Three weeks after that _seance_, my beloved child
(who was staying with me) was carried out of my house in her coffin to
Kensal Green. I was so stunned by the blow, that it was not for some
time after that I remembered "Annie's" prediction. When I asked her
_why_ she had tortured me with the suspense of coming evil for eighteen
months, she said she had been told to do so by my guardian spirits, or
my brain would have been injured by the suddenness of the shock. When I
asked why she had denied it would be one of my children, she still
maintained that she had obeyed a higher order, because to tell the truth
so long beforehand would have half-killed me as indeed it would. "Annie"
said she had no idea, even during that last interview, that the death
she predicted was that of the girl before her. She saw her future was
misty, and that the coffin was over my head, but she did not connect the
two facts together. In like manner I have heard almost every event of my
future through Lottie Fowler's lips, and she has never yet proved to be
wrong, except in one instance of _time_. She predicted an event for a
certain year and it did not take place till afterwards; and it has made
"Annie" so wary, that she steadfastly refuses now to give any dates. I
always warn inquirers not to place faith in any given dates. The spirits
have told me they have _no time_ in the spheres, but judge of it simply
as the reflection of the future appears nearer, or further, from the
sitter's face. Thus, something that will happen years hence appears
cloudy and far off, whilst the events of next week or next month seem
bright and distinct, and quite near. This is a method of judging which
can only be gained by practice, and must at all times be uncertain and
misleading.
I have often acted as amanuensis for Lottie Fowler, for letters are
constantly arriving for her from every part of the world which can only
be answered under trance, and she has asked me to take down the replies
as "Annie" dictated them. I have answered by this means the most
searching questions from over the seas relating to health and money and
lost articles whilst Lottie was fast asleep and "Annie" dictated the
letters, and have received many answers thanking me for acting
go-between, and saying how wonderfully correct and valuable the
information "Annie" had sent them had proved to be. Of course, it would
be impossible, in this paper, to tell of the constant intercourse I have
had with Lottie Fowler during the last ten or twelve years, and the
manner in which she has mapped out my future for me, preventing my
cherishing false hopes that would never be realized, making bad bargains
that would prove monetary losses, and believing in apparent friendship
that was only a cloak for selfishness and treachery. I have learned many
bitter lessons from her lips. I have also made a good deal of money
through her means. She has told me what will happen to me between this
time and the time of my death, and I feel prepared for the evil and
content with the good. Lottie Fowler had very bad health for some time
before she left England, and it had become quite necessary that she
should go; but I think if the British public had known what a wonderful
woman was in their midst, they would have made it better worth her while
to stay amongst them.