>Setting the record straight about Fanny Chamberlain

Posted by Jessica Jewett 5 Comments »

>I am going to have to write this blog in the third person and detach myself emotionally from it, otherwise the things that need to be said will get jumbled and sound like I’m lashing out. I will, however, say that it took me years to get to a point where “the Fanny backlash” no longer causes me serious pain. That life ended in 1905 and even though I’m very public about my past life, including writing this book telling my story, part of my journey has been to teach myself to let go of the lingering anger and sorrow from that life. I was well aware of what people thought of me back then and I’m well aware of what people think of me now. I will never fit in with the status quo and I have accepted that.

All that being said, from a historical perspective, there seems to have been a poisonous myth grown up around Fanny Chamberlain that needs to be eradicated. As long as I am here and breathing, I cannot let the myth stand untested. This is where I will turn to third person in speaking about her to address the myths.

Up until the publication of Diane Monroe Smith’s book, Fanny & Joshua, in 1999, historians left Fanny as an unpleasant footnote in Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain’s biographies. Pictures were painted of her as being cold, unfeeling, self-serving, flighty, vain and a spinster desperate to marry the first available man whether she loved him or not. I have seen some people go as far as to say she was a lesbian and spent more time with her lesbian lovers than her own husband. We have to ask ourselves as historians and history enthusiasts today, where did these ideas originate? Certainly they did not originate from primary sources and that is the most frustrating aspect of the entire subject. The opinions about Fanny cannot come from primary sources because the bulk of Fanny’s written material has either been destroyed over the years or is in private collections inaccessible to the public.

Also, much of the Fanny myth was spun by her granddaughter, Rosamond Allen, who only knew Fanny for the last twelve years of her life. By that point, Fanny was dealing with the depression that came with the total loss of her eyesight. Rosamond only knew a woman suffering from illness, disability and depression. She cannot be relied upon to paint an accurate picture of a life that spanned 80 years. In the 1930s, Rosamond sold the Chamberlain house and almost everything in it. I have heard things about how she got rid of papers and letters that I cannot repeat, but it points to a granddaughter born so late that she had little to no attachment to her grandparents’ possessions. This is not as reliable of a source as people think.

Another part of the general Chamberlain myth was spun by Ellis Spear. He served under Lawrence in the 20th Maine and took over after Lawrence was promoted out of the regiment. They began as friends but by the late nineteenth century into the early twentieth century, Spear became bitter and argued with Lawrence about things that happened forty or fifty years before. Spear was not truthful in all of his accounts, yet one of the biographies about Lawrence drew heavily from his writings. That particular biography was very critical of Fanny when it mentioned her at all and many of the conclusions drawn were by the modern author who skewed his own opinion into the documentation. Biographies are dangerous when the author takes too much liberty with interpretation and preconceived notions.

So, who do we believe about Fanny? We could begin by addressing the biggest myth about her – that she never loved her husband, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. Since there isn’t a lot of her written material left in comparison to the volumes of his written material, people seem to draw the conclusion that there was no love for him, or that she was even incapable of love altogether. I have a few very telling pieces of her letters that I have found deeply buried online and in the Smith book. Let’s look:

I am sitting now at the same window where we sat together all that night. How could you think that I would shrink from you ever! You who seem so holy, so pure and noble to me! — how could I even if you did press my finger to your dear lips? O! there was nothing even then, that you could have done that would not have seemed beautiful and right to me. Ah! those nights! so full of terrible beauty; will they never come again?…O! dear Lawrence I would know you more, and I would have you know me as you never have known me. My soul longs to speak to yours as it never has spoken…I rest in you as I never have rested before; — you know it, do you not? and I would be everything to you; I would nestle closely in your arms forever, and love you and cling to you and be your ‘bird’: dear, precious heart! -January 1852

She’s a cold hearted snake, right? That certainly sounds like a woman deeply in love to me, especially when you take into account her other letters that she wrote expressing the fact that she had a difficult time expressing her feelings. That really gets to the heart of the matter. Lawrence had a habit, in his excitement over having a lady love, of showing her letters to his mother, his sister, his brothers, their friends, etc. He thought she hung the moon and he wanted other people to think she hung the moon too, so he showed people her thoughts and feelings. Fanny was very private about what she thought and felt, however. When she found out what he was doing, she begged him to stop showing people her letters and she stopped expressing her deepest feelings in future letters, instead choosing to make their face-to-face encounters that much sweeter and more private. She explained her position:

You know dear Lawrence that I may breathe to you, even as to my own heart, in all innocence and perfect trustfulness, those things which would ever sink me in the estimation and respect of any third person; for no other being can know what we are to each other. -ca. 1850s

Neither Fanny nor Lawrence were without their faults. Lawrence had a terrible jealous streak, he could be very insecure, he came on very strong with his feelings and wore his heart on his sleeve. He had not endured abandonment and loss as Fanny had in her youth. Fanny’s private nature and difficulty expressing her feelings was rooted in the fact that she was sent away from the only home she ever knew at the age of four to be shipped around to various relatives until she was finally adopted by her biological first cousin, Reverend George Adams. We know now the damage that an unstable early childhood and adoption can do to a person when the matter is not handled carefully. She grew up in a good home but her behavior suggested that she feared abandonment and chose to rely on her own independence than rely on people who might disappear someday.

People also seem to assume that Fanny’s early desire for a platonic marriage was a sign of her distaste for Lawrence. We have to look outside of the bubble of their relationship to understand why Fanny might have felt that way. In the nineteenth century, childbirth was the biggest threat to a woman’s life. As a girl, Fanny heard of a local woman who lost her husband at sea and she developed a fear of ships and water that lasted the rest of her life. If one takes that into consideration, then hearing of another local woman who died in childbirth would certainly inspire fears for her own life in the bloody mess of having children.

Perhaps the biggest reason why Fanny wanted to delay motherhood was because of how she lived her life before she was married. The majority of women at that time never had any real independence. They went from their father’s household to their husband’s household, ultimately ruled by both men in different phases of her life. Fanny, on the other hand, didn’t even get married until she was 30, although she did want to be married earlier. There was a gap in her adult life without a husband to rule her. She moved to Portland from Brunswick in the late 1840s and lived in a studio in a part of the city populated by artists, sculptors and musicians. She led an independent life there, which was very unique for women of her time. Only the illness and death of her adoptive mother brought her back home to Brunswick and falling in love with Lawrence kept her from going back to that life in Portland.

Fanny was also more educated than her peers. She went to a music school in New York City where she learned to become a music teacher herself. She then moved a thousand miles away to Georgia and became a music teacher at a ladies school. Her decision to go was not her lack of love for her fiance but because she refused to enter into a marriage with debts. Upon marriage in those days, everything belonging to a woman became the legal property and responsibility of her husband, including any debts she incurred as a single woman. She refused to do that to Lawrence, so while he finished his education, she worked to improve their future. She resisted the idea of becoming a housewife bound to home and hearth because it was, frankly, a waste of her education and talents, and she knew it. Also, she knew they were not a wealthy couple and she did not want Lawrence to shoulder the responsibility of providing for the family alone. If she had an education and work skills, in her mind, two incomes were better for their future than one. Having children too soon would force her to stay home.

Lawrence suggested that they delay conceiving a child for a few years by using contraceptives. He knew her better than the historians do today and he knew that her idea for a platonic marriage was not due to her lack of desire for him. On the contrary, his letters from that period of discussion show that they were well aware of their mutual desire, or “that measure of humanity,” as he called it. Birth control was illegal in those days, so the fact that they discussed the future of their sexual relationship at length shows that they were trying to compromise on Fanny’s fear of childbirth and her desire to contribute to the family. The fact that Fanny conceived within four weeks of their wedding day and the rapid births of children clearly shows that their physical relationship was intense and a natural extension of their mutual love.

This is just a small piece of the myth of Fanny Chamberlain. There is a lot more to it but I don’t want to make the blog too long.

As a somewhat altered, maybe wiser, no less emotional development of a soul that once bore the name Fanny, I can tell you unequivocally that my heart loved his. Part of my soul will never stop loving his. I understand the curiosity about our lives at that time and I understand there are a lot of Lawrence’s female fans who loathe me because my name was once Fanny Chamberlain. Some of his fans can be rather hardcore and unwilling to see the other side of the coin. I was basically spat on and unfairly judged just last night by someone who deemed herself “crazy about Lawrence.”

Please remember when you study anybody famous in history that they are not just words on a page or grainy black and white pictures to be judged, picked apart, adored, hated, objectified, and so forth. The soul is deathless. Just because the life concluded does not mean those souls are gone forever. We are out there amongst you feeling the shadows of our old identities. Don’t judge us without knowing the whole story. Whether you believe it or not, I did love him and I devoted as much of my life to him as I could, though neither of us were perfect.

To learn the rest of my story, please click the book below.

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>The Haunted Plantation Part II

Posted by Jessica Jewett 1 Comment »

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(Note: the house on the left is not the plantation. It’s just a spooky picture.)

Last night we went back to the plantation (see the previous blog) because there was supposed to be a meeting of a paranormal investigation group that my local friends know. We got there before the others did but they were going to be really late so we decided to go to the cemetery instead. Gretchen thought she had located L’s grave and we had a few other dearly departed to examine as well. The cemetery wasn’t anything very remarkable as far as paranormal activity goes, except when we found L’s grave, the battery in Gretchen’s camera almost completely died. It was full beforehand and all the sudden it drained to almost nothing. We weren’t sure if that was some sort of sign or just a camera malfunction, so we chalked it up to coincidence and headed back to the plantation.

The others still had not arrived by the time we got there but it was getting dark fast and the house has no electricity, so we had to get me upstairs before it got too dark to see anything. The energy in the house was different last night than the previous time we had been there. I felt like it was overwhelming and edgy like the entities there were anxious. I explained to V that I didn’t have her doll yet because we decided we were going to get her one in Charleston today (I’m writing this as we’re getting ready to go). As the paranormal investigation team arrived, I noticed that V and L were not really eager to cooperate with them, mainly because they were loud and those ladies were not welcoming of a bunch of strange men in their home. Gretchen looked at her camera and noticed that the battery was suddenly full again. V hid in her room and L hid on the front porch a lot. Dr. Evil was especially annoyed and I made sure to be clear that I was unwilling to go anywhere near his part of the house downstairs. That was something the other medium agreed with and I later found out that it was a very smart decision.

The level of anxiety rose among V and L, which made me direct the investigators to go outside while I tried to calm them. The other medium, my two friends and me went to L’s room first and the energy was so overwhelming that the other medium and I were shaking uncontrollably. We realized that the night vision camera set up in the room was giving them a source of energy that they didn’t ordinarily have because the house has no electricity. The other medium and I began making comments about how obviously haunted the house would be if there was electricity for them to draw from throughout the place and I made a comment that it would not be inhabitable so long as the doctor was there. At that point, we felt and heard growling from the room directly below L’s room coming through the floorboards and the mood in the room became threatening and black. The room directly below L’s room was the room where she was killed by the doctor in childbirth and where he considers his territory. We got out of that room quickly because we felt very threatened by, apparently, my suggestion that Dr. Evil should be removed from the house.

We moved on to the front room, which was like a common room, public room, parlor, whatever you want to call it. It was as far from the doctor as we could get within the house. We regrouped and sat still for a while. The other medium was starting to feel very drained, so he wanted to take a break and go outside for a while in the back on the other end of the house. I stayed in the front room with my two friends and our dogs. Alone, we were talking to each other and communicate with V and L. V was scared so I told her to cuddle with my friend’s dog because he would protect her. Once she calmed down, I noticed that L was weeping in the adjoining room, feeling guilty as if her illegitimate pregnancy and murder had caused all of this misery. Her personal misery was so present to the point of almost feeling like tangible thick air. The other medium briefly popped in to check on us and made a comment that V was lying on the dog and petting him nervously, something he could not have heard me say from outside on the opposite end of the house. He left us to our own devices again. That was when things went black.

I got slammed by this dark, taunting, angry wall of Dr. Evil’s presence even though he was downstairs on the other side of the house. He made it clear that he was picking on me because I was just a tiny defenseless woman and my response was to become angry and forceful. I threw up more spiritual walls to block him and keep him from rushing upstairs. He was taunting me by showing me the path he was going to take through my side of the house up the bathroom and into the front room. He did not expect me to be able to hold him back. This isn’t my first trip around the psychic block and I knew that even if he could mimic demonic behavior to scare people, he was really just a coward with a chip on his shoulder. My impression of him coupled with my ability to restrain his energy made him all the more angry and he set his sights on physically attacking me. His burst of strength took me off guard and I started shaking, sweating and generally showing signs of physical distress with the amount of effort on my part that it took to restrain him. My friends started yelling for the other medium, saying I needed help. He didn’t come right away and I started to lose control of the situation.

When the other medium finally came, he too was sweating, shaking and looking like he had just been in a fight. He was very amped up, saying that he was going to find a way to get rid of that son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did. He said that he ran into the doctor on the staircase as the doctor was trying to rush up to my end of the house. Again, he was not with us and could not have heard about my struggle, especially since I was not verbally announcing most of it. It took the other medium asking the other entities in the house, my former husband Lawrence, all the soldiers on the land, etc., to help him push the doctor back into his room on the bottom floor. Without communicating at all, the other medium and I had put up spiritual blocks on both sides of the house and engaged in a struggle with the same entity, and did not compare notes until the house was safe again. This was not a coincidence. We both described the same things and he described Lawrence’s mannerisms in such a way that he could only have done that if he knew him in life or saw him in spirit.

After a while of making sure the house was temporarily safe and V and L were as calm as they could be, we went home for the night. My adrenalin subsided and I realized that I was in severe pain across my kidneys. As we left the property, severe stomach pain set in, as if I was feeling the pain of labor or miscarriage. It was so bad that I could not move by the time we got back to my friend’s house. We suspect that I was physically attacked and I didn’t feel it right away because I was so concerned about making sure everyone else was safe.

A word to the wise: a lot of black, evil events took place on a lot of plantations. They look pretty but please don’t get a cavalier attitude about messing with the bad people still lingering in them if you have no training or experience with a medium. Now we are involved too deeply to let this go. I cannot, in good conscience, allow an innocent lady, child and other entities to be held hostage by this doctor for long. The other medium and I have years and years of experience in these things though. I do not advise that average people provoke these things at all.

Off to Charleston we go to buy V a pretty doll.

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>The Haunted Plantation

Posted by Jessica Jewett 2 Comments »

>Out of interest for the organization that owns the plantation, I can’t name the place without knowing for sure if they would be okay with exposing the “other” residents. When local kids catch wind of any haunting, they tend to break onto whatever property is in question in order to try and see a ghost of their own. I don’t want to see that happen to this plantation. It’s already delicate and in disrepair. The souls there are some that I feel protective of as well. They need help breaking free from the control of another very angry soul there too. He’s downright evil. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

The first night I visited the plantation, we were there with some friends who try to give the place an inhabited impression to keep lookie-loos off the property. I settled by the bonfire and immediately felt the prickling on my skin that I get when souls are in the vicinity. I looked at the main plantation house and noticed the silhouette of a young lady near the building who seemed very interested in what we were doing. Her countenance was kind, lonely and thoughtful. She was desperate to come see what we were doing by the bonfire so I invited her to join us. She could not move beyond the immediate vicinity of the plantation house though. She was afraid and I couldn’t figure out why because she was too far away and too quiet for me to get a solid lock on her energy. I felt bad for her but there was nothing I could do at that moment. I gave my attention back to my friends.

A little while later, my conversation was interrupted by a violent feminine scream. I spun around toward the woods and asked if anybody else heard that but it was quite evident that nobody else had heard it. When you’re just hanging around your friends, you don’t immediately jump to the ghost conclusion. I thought for sure someone was being attacked out there because of how clear the scream sounded. Since nobody else heard it, I calmed myself down and considered the situation from a medium standpoint. The information I received was that a slave woman had been killed back there and I asked if there were slave cabins back there. My friend exchanged looks with my other friend and said that she thought the same things as what I was telling her. I purposefully went to this plantation with no historical background so that I could stretch myself as a medium. I also had impression of a lanky man with coveralls or funny looking suspenders. Again, everybody looked at each other and said that he was a well-known figure to them as well.

A few nights later, my friends introduced me to another medium friend of theirs. We kept silent on our previous experiences at the plantation until we got there and went through it room by room. On the property itself, I had dueling impressions of Revolutionary War soldiers and Civil War soldiers on the land. As I told the story of what I was seeing, the car got silent. I wasn’t sure of my accuracy until I asked if anything I said made sense to them and the things they had seen there matched up with my impressions almost dead on correct. I felt myself getting back into the swing of being a medium, something I had set aside in order to do past life and tarot readings for people. These things all utilize different intuitive skills but being a medium was where I began as a child. I felt like I was getting back to my roots. The sun began to set as we made our way into the abandoned plantation house.

The first room I encountered was so dark and heavy that my fellow medium had long since abandoned his previous attempts at entering the room. I wanted to know what had him so uneasy about it so I had my friend push my wheelchair up to the doorway and as soon as I hit the threshhold, I made her stop. I could not go inside either. I saw a scene from approximately the early 1840s with a bed against the far right wall. A young woman was in labor with a doctor positioned to receive the baby. I realized there was blood everywhere – on the bed, splattered on the far wall, etc. – and then I realized the doctor was a murderer. He cut her and let her bleed to death. As the horror sank in for me, the doctor looked at me and said, “You get out of here now!” My friend’s dog ran right into the room toward the doctor’s image and I snapped, “Hampton! Come here!” I left immediately. Despite being a medium and used to all sorts of entities, I take threats seriously and I don’t mess with any entities that threaten me.

We moved toward the front parlor area of the house and at that point, I encountered the young lady who wanted to join us at the bonfire before but could not. I soon realized that she was the lady in labor in the vision I saw at the back of the house (it was not literally in front of me but a visual impression). She was clearly controlled by the doctor entity. I had heard of other entities being controlled in a house by a dominant, dark, angry entity but I had never personally encountered it. The young lady stuck to me as we moved through the house and I felt physical touches on my bare arms like she was petting and being affectionate. The other medium reasoned that I reminded her of a friend that she had in life. I was able to converse with her, receive a name, confirm things for one of the caretakers, and so on of things that I could not possibly know. Through the house, I got from her that she had an illegitimate child and was sent to relatives at that plantation to give birth. The doctor killed her for some unknown reason and she doesn’t know what happened to her baby. I expect that is a big reason why she never left and when the doctor died, his anger toward that incident tied him to that plantation and he is the dominant force there, although the other entities try to contain him to that back room.

We moved into the kitchen area behind the parlor and found “the caretaker” that everybody knows. He’s playful and enjoys touching women, something I was not as prepared for before I arrived as I thought I was. He tickled my knee, touched my thigh and put his hand on my chest in the time that I spent in the house. He’s a protective figure who makes his rounds around the property a lot during the night. I quite enjoy souls with a fun sense of humor despite their desolate situations.

We went upstairs and L (I don’t want to write out her whole name) was eager to show me the room that she had claimed as her own in life and death. I followed her to the room and the bad energy of the bottom floor no longer existed. She gave me visual impressions of her pretty things that she had been so proud of, how her room was arranged and so on. Everything I said matched up with what the other medium had said before and we seemed to connect based on seeing and experiencing the same things. She missed her silks, so we promised to bring her a silk pillow for the room (there is nothing in it right now). Despite her fading energy by that point, the offer made her so happy and I felt like I had done something to relieve her situation a little bit.

In another part of the upper floor, we found a child that was from another period than L. I will refer to her as V. She was about five, blonde and had a big bow like you see in Edwardian photographs. I felt like she died of a disease like scarlet fever and I was told that there were indeed epidemics in the area. V hardly ever ventures downstairs because of Dr. Evil. We had dogs with us and they apparently saw the other residents as well because my friend asked her dog, “Where’s V? Go get V!” and the dog ran to the room where the child dwells. A while later, we were talking in another room, and the dog sat in the doorway very still and relaxed, the same way he looks when he’s getting a good scratch. V and L both enjoy it when we bring the dogs to see them. Animals have the uncanny ability to not only see entities but to treat them no differently than the living, which is something that I think bonds entities and animals. As with the living, animals know when entities are evil and they will growl and bark at seemingly nothing, which is what dogs do near Dr. Evil’s territory.

So while L wants the silk pillow we offered, V wants a doll, which is what we’re going out to get later tonight. She was very specific about how the doll should look to the point that the other medium and I were talking over each other saying the exact same things. V teases me about looking like a doll because I’m tiny and she sees my wheelchair like a baby carriage stroller thing. She wants to play with me and named me Molly, which is why we decided we needed to bring her a doll of her own. It will be interesting to see if the doll or the pillow move around at all in the house without us doing the moving.

This is why plantations need to be rescued from decaying into history. Old buildings may look abandoned but they are most certainly not. This place is still home to V, L, the caretaker and Dr. Evil, among so many other soldiers and slaves. They can’t move on until Dr. Evil releases his choke hold on them. I don’t see that happening anytime soon. While we have the ability, we will work to make this plantation comfortable for them, preserve their stories and help them understand that we do care and they are remembered. We are close to having enough historical documentation to back up our medium impressions as well. It isn’t a game. It isn’t a flight of fancy. These people are quite real and still feel quite deeply.

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