by Losure, Mary
Mr. Gunston, the photographer, was too important to pay any attention to any of them. Sometimes Mr. Gunston’s wife had Elsie run errands, and at least that was less boring than dabbing paint.
It was a “below the stairs” job — that’s all.
So not too long after that, Elsie found another help-wanted notice. This one was in the newspaper, seeking young school-leavers with “artistic ability.”
Elsie went to the address listed in the advertisement and found it was a button factory. She followed the manager to a back room. There, she saw two young girls sitting at easels, rubbing colored powder onto black-and-white photographs.
Many of the photographs were portraits of young men who had died in the War. A note attached to each photograph told what color the dead boy’s eyes and hair had been.
It was sad, looking at so many boys who had been just about her age when they died. But at least it was better than the other job. It was closer to being a real artist.
At home, Elsie’s drawings and paintings hung on the walls.
One was a watercolor of Cottingley Village, seen from the top of the hill. Elsie had painted the hay fields and Manor Farm and the lane down the hill. Above, she painted the wide sky and the birds winging away.
Sometimes Elsie drew gardens in faraway countries.
Once, she drew Titania, the queen of the fairies from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The fairy queen lay sleeping on a bank, her lovely dark hair spread all around her.
The Fairy Queen, copied by Elsie from an illustration by Arthur Rackham
Elsie had copied her out of a book illustrated by Arthur Rackham. Arthur Rackham was a real artist, famous for his illustrations of fairies.
But Elsie’s own fairies — the dancing ones that everyone said were so beautiful — were torn up and buried in the beck. The painted paper gnome was long gone. Their photographs lay forgotten in a drawer. For all Elsie knew, no one would ever look at them again.
And maybe that’s what would have happened if, one winter day, Elsie’s mother hadn’t decided to go on an outing. . . .
Elsie’s mother went to Bradford, where she liked to go to the moving picture shows. Sometimes, when there wasn’t anything she wanted to see at the cinema, she went to hear speakers of one kind or another.
That day she found herself in a square near the train station. In front of a grand stone building called Unity Hall, someone had posted a notice about a lecture on nature spirits. Elsie’s mother went in.
Inside were hundreds and hundreds of seats, for the lectures in Unity Hall were very popular.
The speaker was from an organization of people known as Theosophists.
The Theosophists, it seemed, had all kinds of scientific theories about nature spirits. Elsie’s mother listened closely. And nature spirits, it became clear as the talk went on, were . . . fairies.
The Theosophists didn’t seem to think fairies were a joke at all. When the talk was over, Elsie’s mother turned to the woman sitting next to her. Her daughter had taken a photograph of fairies, Elsie’s mother said, but “we all thought they were nothing but mischievous nonsense!”
Someone hurried up to tell the lecturer. The next thing Elsie’s mother knew, the Theosophists had arranged for a print of the photo of Frances and the fairy ring to be sent to London, where the English branch of the Theosophical Society had its headquarters.
Not long after that, a letter arrived for Elsie’s mother.
It had been written on a typewriter, on stationery engraved with an address on the outskirts of London: 5 Craven Road, Harlesden, NW 10. Telephone: Willesden 1081. It was dated February 23, 1920.
Dear Mrs. Wright,
I have just seen a photograph of “Pixies” that [my friend] Mrs. Powell has, and she tells me it is through your little girl that it was obtained.
I am very anxious to make a collection of slides of such photographs for the Society’s work and am writing to ask if you can very kindly assist me. The print I have seen is certainly the best of its kind I should think anywhere, and if you can help further I should be very greatly obliged. Perhaps you would be so kind as to answer the following queries presuming you have no objection. Of course when showing the pictures no names need be mentioned if desired.
1. Circumstances under which this photo was taken. Situation? Is the girl seated behind a bank? Did the girl who took the photo see the pixies? Time of day? Date?
2. Have you any other photographs of similar kind?
3. Is it possible for me to have the negatives on loan for a week that I may prepare lantern slides?
4. Do you think it feasible to attempt to take more of these? If so most gladly I would send all the plates necessary for the attempt and help in any way I can that you may suggest.
I am keenly interested in this side of our wonderful world life and am urging a better understanding of nature spirits and fairies. It will assist greatly if I was able to show actual photographs of some of the orders. Of course I know this can only be done by the help of children at present and am delighted to get into touch with such promising assistance as it seems your little girl can render.
Very sincerely yours,
Edward Gardner
When Elsie’s mother told her about the letter from London — written with a typewriter! from a man who belonged to an organization with branches all over the world!— Elsie could have told her mother and father the secret of the cutouts right then.
Elsie’s mother would have had to write back to Mr. Gardner saying it had all been a big mistake. The fairies weren’t real. They were only mischievous nonsense, after all, and that would have been the end of it.
But Elsie didn’t tell.
She had no way of knowing it was a decision that would change her whole life.
But then, there were a lot of things Elsie didn’t know.
How was she supposed to know that she had taken her photographs at a time when a number of very respectable, well-educated city people were starting to think that maybe fairies weren’t “magic” at all?
Maybe, these people thought, fairies were just something science didn’t understand yet but would soon. After all, many things seemed like magic if you didn’t understand them. Telegraphs that sent messages through wires! X-rays that could see the bones inside your hand!
To some, it seemed quite likely that a camera could take pictures of fairies. After all, an X-ray could take pictures of things people couldn’t see. Why couldn’t a camera?
In discussions going on in faraway London, people suggested that maybe soon, scientists would be able to study fairies. Soon, they reasoned, fairies, hobgoblins, brownies, and so on could be sorted into scientific groups such as order, genus, and species.
And that — though Elsie had no way of knowing this — was why Mr. Gardner’s letter asked Elsie to take “actual photographs of some of the orders.”
It was as though by taking the fairy photographs, she had pushed a button on a huge machine. She had no way of understanding all its cogs and gears. But now, it was beginning to clank and whir.
And it wanted, very much, to find out more about fairies.
The fairy seekers knew certain things already, from fairy lore.
They knew that fairies could be tiny, or they could be the size of humans. Fairies often dressed in green. They feared iron. If you followed them into a fairy hill and ate their food, you might stay there for what seemed only a short while, but when you went home, you’d discover that your family and friends were dead and forgotten. Fairies stole human babies and left little wizened fairy creatures, called changelings, in the babies’ cradles. Brownies helped around the house, especially if you left them a dish of milk.
Fairies often lived in valleys known as fairy glens. In modern times, fairies were retreating to wild places far from smoke and noise and machines. They lingered, still, in unspoiled countryside. And there (according to the experts in London), fairies could still be glimpsed by simple country folk.
Dancing fairies by Arthur Rackham, 1908
And now . . . here was a report of a fairy sighting from . . . Yorkshire!
Hum, whir . . .
Yorkshire, with its heather-covered moors, was one of the wildest places in England.
Bing!
And two little country girls had spotted the fairies, which made sense, since country people were the ones who knew the most about fairies.
Clank, hum, whir . . .
Ireland, according to fairy experts, was an even better place to look for fairies than Yorkshire. Which was no doubt why Mr. Gardner’s next letter began the way it did.
March 2nd [19]20
Dear Mrs. Wright,
Very many thanks indeed for your kind letter just received. If I may beg you to favour me so far do you think you could arrange with Miss Elsie to attempt some photographs of fairies in Ireland?
But now, what were Elsie and her mother supposed to say to the man from London?
The letter went on:
Should she not already be possessed of a camera I will very gladly send her a good hand Kodak or other make and a parcel of plates. If she has a choice of cameras please let me know which she likes best.
May I explain that I am responsible for the department of the Theosophical Society concerned with diagrams, lantern slides, &c., and have been for long anxious to obtain a few photographs of fairies, pixies, and elves, and if possible of brownies & goblins. The print I have from Mrs. Powell is the most beautiful and promising that I have ever seen and if I can enlist Miss Elsie’s good services we may be able to get some really good ones and indeed a valuable collection. Please assure her that any stipulation she likes to impose by way of reserve, such as not mentioning names, &c., I will of course observe and am willing to assist so far as I can in any way she may think of.
I know quite well that fairies exist and that they are very shy of showing themselves or approaching adults, and it is only when one can obtain the help of their “friends” that one can hope to obtain photographs and hence lead to a better understanding of Nature’s ways than is possible otherwise. So I am very anxious to secure this fine opportunity of assistance if you can very kindly help. Why not ask Miss Elsie to try for further photos in Yorkshire? Do, if you can! I will forward camera at once if necessary. I would suggest that her friend goes with her as I think a good deal of help is afforded by way of intensifying the fairies bodies by proximity, but this may not be necessary.
Is it possible for me to have the loan of the two negatives you speak of ? I have only one of the prints and would have preferred the negatives for conversion if permitted. I would return them within a week. If not, may I have a print of the second photo, the one with the single “goblin”?
Sincerely yours,
Edward Gardner
In Harlesden, on the outskirts of London, Mr. Gardner opened a small cardboard box. Inside, there was a note from Elsie’s mother and two glass plates. And there on the plates were the silvery outlines of two girls . . . fairy wings . . . and a small and curious creature.
Mr. Gardner hurried to the telephone and arranged with a photographer to have some prints made from the plates. Then he got on his bicycle and pedaled over to the nearby town of Harrow, where the photographer had his studio.
The road took him past newly built houses and factories, for the town where Mr. Gardner lived was rapidly being swallowed up by sooty, noisy London. Harrow, where the photographer’s studio was, lay farther away from the city, so soon Mr. Gardner was pedaling through the pleasant countryside.
Anyone looking at him as he rode by would have seen a perfectly ordinary-looking man. True, he believed in fairies and unseen spirits — his sister had once considered him “bathed in error and almost past praying for”— but he wasn’t a wild-eyed, wild-haired sort of person. He was a quiet, reserved man with short brown hair, a neatly trimmed brown beard, a brown suit, and a bow tie.
Mr. Gardner cycled past fields and woods till the town of Harrow appeared in the distance. When he reached the photographer’s studio, he climbed down from his bicycle and went inside.
He handed the plates to Mr. Snelling, the photographer. Mr. Snelling took them over to a glass-topped desk. He flipped on an electric light underneath the glass, took out a magnifying lens, and peered at the plates.
He looked at them for a long, long time.
April 8th, [19]20
Dear Mrs. Wright,
With very many thanks indeed I am returning the two negatives Miss Elsie so kindly sent me. . . . I think it might interest you and her to know that when I set about obtaining some prints from them I took them to one of the best experts in photography in London and without describing the negatives at all asked him if he would make me some prints.
He looked at the first negative (the one with several) and exclaimed and then carefully examined it further and then said “this is the most extraordinary photograph I have ever seen!” I wanted to hear exactly what he thought so simply asked him why. He said “because there appear to be some dancing fairy figures on the plate and the photograph is a straightforward genuine one!” I then asked him bluntly whether the negative could have been built up by any faking. . . . He laughed when he said that had the plate been a faked one it would not have interested him at all, he was accustomed to handling and making up faked photographs constantly, but to him the amazing thing was that this plate was not faked, but was absolutely genuine!
I was myself convinced the photograph was quite genuine from the start, as I told you, but it was very interesting to have this testimony from an expert London photographer accustomed to dealing with thousands of films of every sort in his business. . . .
Please let me know if Miss Elsie can be persuaded to attempt to take some more. I shall be immensely indebted to her if she will and will despatch the camera and plates . . . [as soon as] I hear. Pray tell her that she will be doing a real service in doing this if she will, more perhaps than she imagines. We want to learn something further about the fairy world and the very best way will be by photographs if only we can obtain them.
Very sincerely yours,
Edward Gardner
Four days later, the mailman brought something else — a box of chocolates and a letter addressed to Miss Elsie Wright.
“I am myself convinced of fairies — have been all my life, but the best photograph I have ever seen is undoubtedly yours,” Mr. Gardner wrote.
The subject is quite an important one and you would be doing us all a considerable service if you could get further photographs of a similar kind of the various varieties. I will most willingly assist in every way possible. . . . Many of us wish to learn more about this delightful side of life and if you can help I shall be immensely grateful. Will you think of it and let me know?
It was Elsie’s mother who wrote Mr. Gardner back.
She could have explained that Elsie was a terrible speller who hardly ever wrote letters. But Elsie’s mother was nice enough not to.
Instead, she said that she was writing for her daughter because Elsie was sick:
“She says I must thank you ever so many times, indeed it was very kind of you, but she does not know if she can take any more,” Elsie’s mother wrote.
The little niece of mine from South Africa, the one on the picture [h]as gone away. If she does take any more I will send them on. Thank you very much for the offer of the camera but we have two, and her dad lets her have the use of them now.
Yours Sincerely,
Polly Wright
Now what?
Mr. Gardner had sent a box of chocolates and a letter for Elsie, not her mother.
He did not seem to be going away.
And far away in London, the fairy machine was rolling onward.
In London, Mr. Gardner had had lantern slides made from the two glass plates. Now he was showing the pictures of Frances and the fairies and Elsie and the gnome on screens at auditoriums all over town. Every day, more and more people heard a
bout the fairy photographs.
One of them was a writer who was conducting his own research on fairies. He planned to publish an article — with firsthand accounts of actual fairy sightings — in one of England’s most popular illustrated magazines, the Strand.
And they did make fascinating reading.
In one account, a man called Mr. Lonsdale described the fairies that he and his friend Mr. Turvey had seen in Mr. Turvey’s garden.
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.
The writer took stories like these perfectly seriously, even though he knew that people might make fun of him for doing so. “What does it matter what anyone says of me,” he once said to his mother in a letter. “I have a good hide by this time.”