INDEPENDENT EVIDENCE FOR FAIRIES
By a curious coincidence, if it be indeed a coincidence, at the moment
when the evidence for the actual existence of fairies was brought to
my notice, I had just finished an article dealing with the subject, in
which I gave particulars of a number of cases where such creatures were
said to have been seen, and showed how very strong were the reasons
for supposing that some such forms of life exist. I now reproduce this
article, and I add to it another chapter containing fresh evidence
which reached me after the publication of the photographs in the
_Strand Magazine_.
* * * * *
We are accustomed to the idea of amphibious creatures who may dwell
unseen and unknown in the depths of the waters, and then some day be
spied sunning themselves upon a sandbank, whence they slip into the
unseen once more. If such appearances were rare, and if it should so
happen that some saw them more clearly than others, then a very pretty
controversy would arise, for the sceptics would say, with every show of
reason, "Our experience is that only land creatures live on the land,
and we utterly refuse to believe in things which slip in and out of the
water; if you will demonstrate them to us we will begin to consider the
question." Faced by so reasonable an opposition, the others could only
mutter that they had seen them with their own eyes, but that they could
not command their movements. The sceptics would hold the field.
Something of the sort may exist in our psychic arrangements. One can
well imagine that there is a dividing line, like the water edge, this
line depending upon what we vaguely call a higher rate of vibrations.
Taking the vibration theory as a working hypothesis, one could conceive
that by raising or lowering the rate the creatures could move from
one side to the other of this line of material visibility, as the
tortoise moves from the water to the land, returning for refuge to
invisibility as the reptile scuttles back to the surf. This, of course,
is supposition, but intelligent supposition based on the available
evidence is the pioneer of science, and it may be that the actual
solution will be found in this direction. I am alluding now, not to
spirit return, where seventy years of close observation has given us
some sort of certain and definite laws, but rather to those fairy and
phantom phenomena which have been endorsed by so many ages, and still
even in these material days seem to break into some lives in the most
unexpected fashion.
Victorian science would have left the world hard and clean and bare,
like a landscape in the moon; but this science is in truth but a
little light in the darkness, and outside that limited circle of
definite knowledge we see the loom and shadow of gigantic and fantastic
possibilities around us, throwing themselves continually across our
consciousness in such ways that it is difficult to ignore them.
There is much curious evidence of varying value concerning these
borderland forms, which come or go either in fact or imagination--the
latter most frequently, no doubt. And yet there remains a residue
which, by all human standards, should point to occasional fact. Lest
I should be too diffuse, I limit myself in this essay to the fairies,
and passing all the age-long tradition, which is so universal and
consistent, come down to some modern instances which make one feel that
this world is very much more complex than we had imagined, and that
there may be upon its surface some very strange neighbours who will
open up inconceivable lines of science for our posterity, especially if
it should be made easier for them, by sympathy or other help, to emerge
from the deep and manifest upon the margin.
Taking a large number of cases which lie before me, there are two
points which are common to nearly all of them. One is that children
claim to see these creatures far more frequently than adults. This may
possibly come from greater sensitiveness of apprehension, or it may
depend upon these little entities having less fear of molestation
from the children. The other is, that more cases are recorded in which
they have been seen in the still, shimmering hours of a very hot day
than at any other time. "The action of the sun upon the brain," says
the sceptic. Possibly--and also possibly not. If it were a question of
raising the slower vibrations of our surroundings one could imagine
that still, silent heat would be the very condition which might favour
such a change. What is the mirage of the desert? What is that scene
of hills and lakes which a whole caravan can see while it faces in a
direction where for a thousand miles of desert there is neither hill
nor lake, nor any cloud or moisture to produce refraction? I can ask
the question, but I do not venture to give an answer. It is clearly a
phenomenon which is not to be confused with the erect or often inverted
image which is seen in a land of clouds and of moisture.
If the confidence of children can be gained and they are led to
speak freely, it is surprising how many claim to have seen fairies.
My younger family consists of two little boys and one small girl,
very truthful children, each of whom tells with detail the exact
circumstances and appearance of the creature. To each it happened only
once, and in each case it was a single little figure, twice in the
garden, once in the nursery. Inquiry among friends shows that many
children have had the same experience, but they close up at once when
met by ridicule and incredulity. Sometimes the shapes are unlike those
which they would have gathered from picture-books. "Fairies are like
nuts and moss," says one child in Lady Glenconner's charming study of
family life. My own children differ in the height of the creatures,
which may well vary, but in their dress they are certainly not unlike
the conventional idea, which, after all, may also be the true one.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF THE BECK IN 1921]
[Illustration: THE TWO GIRLS NEAR THE SPOT WHERE THE LEAPING FAIRY WAS
TAKEN IN 1920]
There are many people who have a recollection of these experiences
of their youth, and try afterwards to explain them away on material
grounds which do not seem adequate or reasonable. Thus in his
excellent book on folk-lore, the Rev. S. Baring-Gould gives us a
personal experience which illustrates several of the points already
mentioned. "In the year 1838," he says, "when I was a small boy of four
years old, we were driving to Montpelier on a hot summer day over the
long straight road that traverses a pebble-and-rubble-strewn plain, on
which grows nothing save a few aromatic herbs. I was sitting on the box
with my father when, to my great surprise, I saw legions of dwarfs of
about two feet high running along beside the horses; some sat laughing
on the pole, some were scrambling up the harness to get on the backs
of the horses. I remarked to my father what I saw, when he abruptly
stopped the carriage and put me inside beside my mother, where, the
conveyance being closed, I was out of the sun. The effect was that,
little by little, the host of imps diminished in number till they
disappeared altogether."
Here, certainly, the advocates of sunstroke have a strong, though by no
means a final, case. Mr. Baring-Gould's next illustration is a sounder
one.
"When my wife was a girl of fifteen," he says, "she was walking down a
lane in Yorkshire, between green hedges, when she saw seated in one of
the privet hedges a little green man, perfectly well made, who looked
at her with his beady black eyes. He was about a foot or fifteen inches
high. She was so frightened that she ran home. She remembers that it
was a summer day."
A girl of fifteen is old enough to be a good witness, and her flight
and the clear detail of her memory point to a real experience. Again we
have the suggestion of a hot day.
Baring-Gould has yet a third case. "One day a son of mine," he says,
"was sent into the garden to pick pea-pods for the cook to shell for
dinner. Presently he rushed into the house as white as chalk to say
that while he was thus engaged, and standing between the rows of peas,
he saw a little man wearing a red cap, a green jacket, and brown knee
breeches, whose face was old and wan, and who had a grey beard and eyes
as black and hard as sloes. He stared so intently at the boy that the
latter took to his heels."
Here, again, the pea-pods show that it was summer, and probably in the
heat of the day. Once again the detail is very exact and corresponds
closely, as I shall presently show, to some independent accounts. Mr.
Baring-Gould is inclined to put all these down to the heat conjuring
up the familiar pictures of fairy books, but some further evidence may
cause the reader to doubt this explanation.
Let us compare with these stories the very direct evidence of Mrs.
Violet Tweedale, whose courage in making public the result of her
own remarkable psychic faculties should meet with recognition from
every student of the subject. Our descendants will hardly realize the
difficulty which now exists of getting first-hand evidence with names
attached, for they will have outgrown the state when the cry of "fake"
and "fraud" and "dupe" is raised at once against any observer, however
honourable and moderate, by people who know little or nothing of the
subject. Mrs. Tweedale says:
"I had a wonderful little experience some five years ago which
proved to me the existence of fairies. One summer afternoon I was
walking alone along the avenue of Lupton House, Devonshire. It was
an absolutely still day--not a leaf moving, and all Nature seemed
to sleep in the hot sunshine. A few yards in front of me my eye was
attracted by the violent movements of a single long blade-like leaf
of a wild iris. This leaf was swinging and bending energetically,
while the rest of the plant was motionless. Expecting to see a
field-mouse astride it, I stepped very softly up to it. What was my
delight to see a tiny green man. He was about five inches long, and
was swinging back-downwards. His tiny green feet, which appeared to be
green-booted, were crossed over the leaf, and his hands, raised behind
his head, also held the blade. I had a vision of a merry little face
and something red in the form of a cap on the head. For a full minute
he remained in view, swinging on the leaf. Then he vanished. Since
then I have several times seen a single leaf moving violently while
the rest of the plant remained motionless, but I have never again been
able to see the cause of the movement."
Here the dress of the fairy, green jacket and red cap, is exactly the
same as was described independently by Baring-Gould's son, and again
we have the elements of heat and stillness. It may be fairly answered
that many artists have drawn the fairies in such a dress, and that the
colours may in this way have been impressed upon the minds of both
observers. In the bending iris we have something objective, however,
which cannot easily be explained away as a cerebral hallucination, and
the whole incident seems to me an impressive piece of evidence.
A lady with whom I have corresponded, Mrs. H., who is engaged in
organizing work of the most responsible kind, has had an experience
which resembles that of Mrs. Tweedale. "My only sight of a fairy," she
says, "was in a large wood in West Sussex, about nine years ago. He
was a little creature about half a foot high, dressed in leaves. The
remarkable thing about his face was that no soul looked through his
eyes. He was playing about in long grass and flowers in an open space."
Once again summer is indicated. The length and colour of the creature
correspond with Mrs. Tweedale's account, while the lack of soul in
the eyes may be compared with the "hard" eyes described by young
Baring-Gould.
One of the most gifted clairvoyants in England was the late Mr. Turvey,
of Bournemouth, whose book, _The Beginnings of Seership_, should be in
the library of every student. Mr. Lonsdale, of Bournemouth, is also a
well-known sensitive. The latter has given me the following account of
an incident which he observed some years ago in the presence of Mr.
Turvey.
"I was sitting," says Mr. Lonsdale, "in his company in his garden at
Branksome Park. We sat in a hut which had an open front looking on to
the lawn. We had been perfectly quiet for some time, neither talking
nor moving, as was often our habit. Suddenly I was conscious of a
movement on the edge of the lawn, which on that side went up to a grove
of pine trees. Looking closely, I saw several little figures dressed
in brown peering through the bushes. They remained quiet for a few
minutes and then disappeared. In a few seconds a dozen or more small
people, about two feet in height, in bright clothes and with radiant
faces, ran on to the lawn, dancing hither and thither. I glanced at
Turvey to see if he saw anything, and whispered, 'Do you see them?'
He nodded. These fairies played about, gradually approaching the hut.
One little fellow, bolder than the others, came to a croquet hoop
close to the hut and, using the hoop as a horizontal bar, turned round
and round it, much to our amusement. Some of the others watched him,
while others danced about, not in any set dance, but seemingly moving
in sheer joy. This continued for four or five minutes, when suddenly,
evidently in response to some signal or warning from those dressed in
brown, who had remained at the edge of the lawn, they all ran into the
wood. Just then a maid appeared coming from the house with tea. Never
was tea so unwelcome, as evidently its appearance was the cause of
the disappearance of our little visitors." Mr. Lonsdale adds, "I have
seen fairies several times in the New Forest, but never so clearly as
this." Here also the scene is laid in the heat of a summer day, and the
division of the fairies into two different sorts is remarkably borne
out by the general descriptions.
Knowing Mr. Lonsdale as I do to be a responsible, well-balanced, and
honourable man, I find such evidence as this very hard to put to one
side. Here at least the sunstroke hypothesis is negatived, since both
men sat in the shade of the hut and corroborated the observation of
the other. On the other hand, each of the men, like Mrs. Tweedale, was
supernormal in psychic development, so that it might well happen that
the maid, for example, would not have seen the fairies, even if she had
arrived earlier upon the scene.
I know a gentleman belonging to one of the learned professions whose
career as, let us say, a surgeon would not be helped if this article
were to connect him with fairy lore. As a matter of fact, in spite of
his solemn avocations and his practical and virile character, he seems
to be endowed with that faculty--let us call it the appreciation of
higher vibrations--which opens up so wonderful a door to its possessor.
He claims, or rather he admits, for he is reticent upon the subject,
that he has carried this power of perception on from childhood, and his
surprise is not so much at what he sees as at the failure of others to
see the same thing. To show that it is not subjective, he tells the
story that on one occasion, while traversing a field, he saw a little
creature which beckoned eagerly that he should follow. He did so, and
presently saw his guide pointing with an air of importance to the
ground. There, between the furrows, lay a flint arrow-head which he
carried home with him as a souvenir of the adventure.
Another friend of mine who claims to have the power of seeing fairies
is Mr. Tom Tyrrell, the famous medium, whose clairvoyance and general
psychic gifts are of the strongest character. I cannot easily forget
how one evening in a Yorkshire hotel a storm of raps, sounding very
much as if someone were cracking their fingers and thumb, broke out
around his head, and how with his coffee-cup in one hand he flapped
vigorously with the other to warn off his inopportune visitors. In
answer to my question about fairies he says, "Yes, I do see these
little pixies or fairies. I have seen them scores of times. But only
in the woods and when I do a little fasting. They are a very real
presence to me. What are they? I cannot say. I can never get nearer to
the beggars than four or five yards. They seem afraid of me, and then
scamper off up the trees like squirrels. I dare say if I were to go
in the woods oftener I would perhaps gain their confidence more. They
are certainly like human beings, only very small, say about twelve or
fifteen inches high. I have noticed they are brown in colour, with
fairly large heads and standing-up ears, out of proportion to the size
of their bodies, and bandy legs. I am speaking of what I see. I have
never come across any other clairvoyant who has seen them, though I
have read that many do so. Probably they have something to do with
Nature processes. The males have very short hair, and the females have
rather long, straight hair."
The idea that these little creatures are occupied in consciously
furthering Nature's projects--very much, I suppose, as the bee carries
pollen--is repeated by the learned Dr. Vanstone, who combines great
knowledge of theory with some considerable experience, though a high
development of intellect is, in spite of Swedenborg's example, a bar
to psychic perception. This would show, if it is correct, that we
may have to return to the classical conception of something in the
nature of naiads and fauns and spirits of the trees and groves. Dr.
Vanstone, whose experiences are on the borderland between what is
objective and what is sensed without being actually seen, writes to
me: "I have been distinctly aware of minute intelligent beings in
connection with the evolution of plant forces, particularly in certain
localities; for instance, in Ecclesbourne Glen. Pond life yields to me
the largest and best sense of fairy life, and not the floral world. I
may be only clothing my subjective consciousness with unreal objective
imaginations, but they are real to me as sentient, intelligent beings,
able to communicate with us in varying distinctness. I am inclined
to think that elemental beings are engaged, like factory hands, in
facilitating the operation of Nature's laws."
Another gentleman who claims to have this most remarkable gift is Mr.
Tom Charman, who builds for himself a shelter in the New Forest and
hunts for fairies as an entomologist would for butterflies. In answer
to my inquiries, he tells me that the power of vision came to him in
childhood, but left him for many years, varying in proportion with his
own nearness to Nature. According to this seer, the creatures are of
many sizes, varying from a few inches to several feet. They are male,
female, and children. He has not heard them utter sounds, but believes
that they do so, of finer quality than we can hear. They are visible
by night as well as by day, and show small lights about the same size
as glow-worms. They dress in all sorts of ways. Such is Mr. Charman's
account.
It is, of course, easy for us who respond only to the more material
vibrations to declare that all these seers are self-deluded, or are
the victims of some mental twist. It is difficult for them to defend
themselves from such a charge. It is, however, to be urged upon the
other side that these numerous testimonies come from people who are
very solid and practical and successful in the affairs of life. One
is a distinguished writer, another an ophthalmic authority, a third a
successful professional man, a fourth a lady engaged on public service,
and so on. To waive aside the evidence of such people on the ground
that it does not correspond with our own experience is an act of mental
arrogance which no wise man will commit.
It is interesting to compare these various contemporary and first-hand
accounts of the impressions which all these witnesses have received. I
have already pointed out that the higher vibrations which we associate
with hot sunshine, and which we actually seem to see in the shimmer of
noontide, is associated with many of the episodes. Apart from this it
must be admitted that the evidence is on the whole irregular. We have
creatures described which range from five inches to two and a half
feet. An advocate of the fairies might say that, since the tradition
has always been that they procreate as human beings do, we are dealing
with them in every stage of growth, which accounts for the varying
size.
It seems to me, however, that a better case could be made out if it
were pleaded that there have always been many different races of
fairyland, and that samples of these races may greatly differ from
each other, and may inhabit varying spots; so that an observer like
Mr. Tyrrell, for example, may always have seen woodland elves, which
bear no resemblance to gnomes or goblins. The monkey-like, brown-clad
creatures of my professional friend, which were over two feet high,
compare very closely with the creatures which little Baring-Gould saw
climbing on to the horses. In both cases these taller fairies were
reported from flat, plain-like locations; while the little old-man
type varies completely from the dancing little feminine elf so beloved
by Shakespeare. In the experience of Mr. Turvey and Mr. Lonsdale, two
different types engaged in different tasks were actually seen at the
same moment, the one being bright-coloured dancing elves, while the
other were the brown-coloured attendants who guarded them.
The claim that the fairy rings so often seen in meadow or marshland
are caused by the beat of fairy feet is certainly untenable, as
they unquestionably come from fungi such as _Agaricus gambosus_ or
_Marasmius oreades_, which grow from a centre, continually deserting
the exhausted ground, and spreading to that which is fresh. In this
way a complete circle is formed, which may be quite small or may be
of twelve-foot diameter. These circles appear just as often in woods
from the same cause, but are smothered over by the decayed leaves
among which the fungi grow. But though the fairies most certainly do
not produce the rings, it might be asserted, and could not be denied,
that the rings once formed, whatever their cause, would offer a very
charming course for a circular ring-a-ring dance. Certainly from all
time these circles have been associated with the gambols of the little
people.
After these modern instances one is inclined to read with a little more
gravity the account which our ancestors gave of these creatures; for,
however fanciful in parts, it still may have had some core of truth.
I say "our ancestors," but as a matter of fact there are shepherds
on the South Downs to this day who will throw a bit of their bread
and cheese over their shoulders at dinner-time for the little folks
to consume. All over the United Kingdom, and especially in Wales and
Ireland, the belief is largely held among those folks who are nearest
to Nature. First of all it was always supposed that they lived within
the earth. This was natural enough, since a sudden disappearance of a
solid body could only be understood in that way. On the whole, their
description was not grotesque, and fits easily into its place amid the
examples already given. "They were of small stature," says one Welsh
authority, quoted in Mrs. Lewes's _Stranger than Fiction_, "towards
two feet in height, and their horses of the size of hares. Their
clothes were generally white, but on certain occasions they have been
seen dressed in green. Their gait was lively, and ardent and loving
was their glance.... They were peaceful and kindly among themselves,
diverting in their tricks, and charming in their walk and dancing."
This mention of horses is somewhat out of the picture, but all the
rest seems corroborative of what has already been stated.
[Illustration: THE PHOTOGRAPH FROM CANADA]
One of the best of the ancient accounts is that of the Rev. R. Kirk,
who occupied a parish at Monteith, on the edge of the Highlands, and
wrote a pamphlet called _The Secret Commonwealth_, about the year 1680.
He had very clear and definite ideas about these little creatures, and
he was by no means a visionary, but a man of considerable parts, who
was chosen afterwards to translate the Bible into Erse. His information
about fairies tallies very well with that of the Welshman quoted
above. He slips up in imagining that flint arrow-heads are indeed
"fairy-bolts," but otherwise his contentions agree very well with
our modern instances. They have tribes and orders, according to this
Scottish clergyman. They eat. They converse in a thin, whistling sort
of language. They have children, deaths, and burials. They are fond
of frolic dancing. They have a regular state and polity, with rulers,
laws, quarrels, and even battles. They are irresponsible creatures, not
hostile to the human race unless they have reason to be angry, but
even inclined to be helpful, since some of them, the brownies, are, by
universal tradition, ready to aid in the household work if the family
has known how to engage their affection.
An exactly similar account comes from Ireland, though the little folk
seem to have imbibed the spirit of the island to the extent of being
more mercurial and irascible. There are many cases on record where they
are claimed to have shown their power, and to have taken revenge for
some slight. In the _Larne Reporter_ of March 31, 1866, as quoted in
_True Irish Ghost Stories_, there is an account of how a stone which
the fairies claimed having been built into a house, the inhabitants
were bombarded with stones by invisible assailants by day and night,
the missiles hurting no one, but causing great annoyance. These stories
of stone-throwing are so common, and present such similar well-attested
features in cases coming from every part of the world, that they may be
accepted as a recognized preternatural phenomenon, whether it be the
fairies or some other form of mischievous psychic force which caused
the bombardment. The volume already quoted gives another remarkable
case, where a farmer, having built a house upon what was really a fairy
right-of-way between two "raths" or fairy mounds, was exposed to such
persecution by noises and other disturbances that his family was at
last driven out, and had to take refuge in the smaller house which they
had previously occupied. This story is narrated by a correspondent
from Wexford, who says that he examined the facts himself, examined
the deserted house, cross-examined the owner, and satisfied himself
that there were two raths in the vicinity, and that the house was in a
dead-line between them.
I have particulars of a case in West Sussex which is analogous, and
which I have been able to trace to the very lady to whom it happened.
This lady desired to make a rock-garden, and for this purpose got some
large boulders from a field hard by, which had always been known as the
pixie stones, and built them into her new rockery. One summer evening
this lady saw a tiny grey woman sitting on one of the boulders. The
little creature slipped away when she knew that she had been observed.
Several times she appeared upon the stones. Later the people in the
village asked if the stones might be moved back to the field, "as,"
they said, "they are the pixie stones, and if they are removed from
their place, misfortunes will happen to the village." The stones were
restored.
But supposing that they actually do exist, what _are_ these creatures?
That is a subject upon which we can speculate only with more or less
plausibility. Mr. David Gow, editor of _Light_, and a considerable
authority upon psychic matters, had first formed the opinion that they
were simply ordinary human spirits, seen, as it were, at the wrong
end of a clairvoyant telescope, and therefore very minute. A study of
the detailed accounts of their varied experience caused him to alter
his view, and to conclude that they are really life forms which have
developed along some separate line of evolution, and which for some
morphological reason have assumed human shape in the strange way in
which Nature reproduces her types like the figures on the mandrake
root or the frost ferns upon the window.
In a remarkable book, _A Wanderer in the Spirit Lands_, published in
1896, the author, Mr. Farnese, under inspiration gives an account of
many mysteries, including that of fairies. What he says fits in very
closely with the facts that have been put forward, and goes beyond
them. He says, speaking of elementals: "Some are in appearance like the
gnomes and elves who are said to inhabit mountain caverns. Such, too,
are the fairies whom men have seen in lonely and secluded places. Some
of these beings are of a very low order of life, almost like the higher
order of plants, save that they possess independent motion. Others are
very lively and full of grotesque, unmeaning tricks.... As nations
advance and grow more spiritual these lower forms of life die out from
the astral plane of that earth's sphere, and succeeding generations
begin at first to doubt and then to deny that they ever had any
existence." This is one plausible way of explaining the disappearance
of the faun, the dryad, the naiad, and all the creatures which are
alluded to with such familiarity in the classics of Greece and Rome.
One may well ask what connection has this fairy-lore with the general
scheme of psychic philosophy? The connection is slight and indirect,
consisting only in the fact that anything which widens our conceptions
of the possible, and shakes us out of our time-rutted lines of
thought, helps us to regain our elasticity of mind, and thus to be
more open to new philosophies. The fairy question is infinitely small
and unimportant compared to the question of our own fate and that of
the whole human race. The evidence also is very much less impressive,
though, as I trust I have shown, it is not entirely negligible. These
creatures are in any case remote from us, and their existence is of
little more real importance than that of strange animals or plants.
At the same time, the perennial mystery why so many "flowers are born
to blush unseen," and why Nature should be so lavish with gifts which
human beings cannot use, would be solved if we understood that there
were other orders of being which used the same earth and shared its
blessings. It is at the lowest an interesting speculation which gives
an added charm to the silence of the woods and the wilderness of the
moorland.