“When I was about eight years old,” wrote Miss Doris King, of Nottingham, I rose early one morning and was attracted by a shuffling noise that came from beneath the table in the living room. I lifted the tablecloth to see what it was, and was amazed to see a merry little gnome. He was dressed in a blue tunic trimmed with black buttons, blue trousers, long pointed-toe shoes, and pointed cap. He was about fifteen inches high, and with him were two other sprites, which I believe were fairies, of about half the size. I stepped back afraid, but all three made friendly advances and held out their hands as if imploring me to stay. I made for the stairs quickly, and when I reached the top I turned round to see all three below, frantically beckoning and looking very disappointed at my running away. I felt at the time that they intended to take me away with them, probably to the inner parts of the earth where they are supposed to dwell. Whether this was so or not, I do not know, for I ran into my mother’s bedroom, afraid at what I had just encountered.”
A rather dark and dusty corn-shop in a building 100 years old surrounded by factories in the heart of the Black Country is hardly the place where one would expect to see a fairy, but when Mrs. Joan Barnett was a child of five or six years old she was amusing herself on the floor of her father’s shop when she saw a beautiful little creature approximately six inches high with lovely multi-coloured wings. She played with her for a few minutes, and while doing so she experienced “a wonderful feeling of happiness.” She never saw the fairy again, although she used to look for her.
Mrs. Eleanor Thaxter, of Norfolk, recalled the time when, at the age of four, she lived with her parents and small brother in a little wooden house in Englefield Green, Surrey. One memorable day, she was standing outside on a side path when a little fairy man about two feet high ran down the main path, which led from the gate to the bottom of the garden. She called to him: “Oh, please stay and play with me!” but he was too busy talking to himself to hear her, and continued on his way to the coal shed, where he seemed to disappear behind some large lumps of coal. The child rushed to fetch her daddy to help her to move them, but he didn’t believe her story and said she was dreaming. “I’m not, daddy,” she sobbed. “I’m wide awake. He has gone into the coal shed.” To pacify her, her father went with her to search for the little man, but they did not find him. As far as Mrs. Thaxter can remember, he was wearing a red hat and green tunic, and small turned-up shoes.
The previous account reminds me of a day many years ago when I opened the door of our coke shed and saw a small, female-type figure jump lightly down from the coke and hurry in front of my feet towards a cluster of the yellow “pan-pipe” flowers of a Corydalis plant, which was growing at the base of a concrete step. What possible attraction can fairies find in corn shops, and coal- and coke-sheds? Can these four-dimensional beings see the archetype within the corn and the coal? But after all, if Muriel Stuart, in her lovely poem “The Seed Shop,” could visualize “a dale of hawthorn” dreaming in a brown husk, perhaps the fairies could see in the corn-shop fields of golden corn; and if John Oxenham, in his poem “The Sacrament of Fire,” could speak of “coal, where forests lie entombed,” maybe the fairies could see the ancient tree-ferns, which existed long before we human beings came to defile the living earth.
Mrs. Winifred Kirby, of Nottinghamshire, told me of an unusual experience she had some years ago after a friend had taken her some mushrooms, which he had gathered that morning. In the afternoon she felt impressed to do some automatic writing, in which she was interested, and she was astounded when the pencil wrote: “Can I be of service to you, lady?”
“Who are you?” she asked, and the pencil wrote again: “I am a gnome. That nasty man brought me with the mushrooms.” She could not remember all the conversation, but she said the gnome wasn’t very pleased to have been disturbed by her friend, though he seemed very friendly towards her, and he asked again if he could be of service. She felt his presence with her for quite a while, and wished she could have seen him.
It seems from this that mushrooms, as well as the traditional toadstools, are used as perching-places by the fairies!
“I’ve believed in fairies,” said Mr. Ernest Rogers, Senr., of Bulwell, Nottingham, “ever since the time when, as a small child, I was awakened one night by the sounds of tinkling laughter. I went downstairs and peeped round the living-room door, and saw a group of fairies playing in the fireplace. We looked at each other for several seconds, then they seemed to flit away. Though it was night or early morning, the room was filled with light—or rather, light emanated from them and the fire grate. Now I am much older, I often remember and wish I could see them again.”
The Theosophist Miss Clara Codd knew a lady doctor in Donegal who, along with all her children, could see fairies. These children had a pet leprechaun in the house, and one of their favourite games was to try to catch him, but they never succeeded. She asked them what he looked like, and they told her he was speckled black and white, and that he jumped like a rabbit. She remembered a great seer telling her that some of the fairies of Northern Ireland were speckled black and white. Another family known to her used to spend every winter in Egypt, and the children told her that always on their first night there, the green fairies would come and run up and down the window curtains.
A little man seemed to have attached himself to Mrs. Martha C. Smith, of the USA, as one of the family, and while writing to me she said: “My office is dark, and across the room from me, sitting on a desk with his hands over his mouth, laughing and muttering to himself, is my little man. He is about a foot high, rather hunched, with a very old expression on his face, and he always wears a tiny hat. He is so ugly that he looks really cute. One night he seemed to make a point of tipping his funny little hat before he disappeared from my sight… I must tell you of my latest experiences with my little man. He came to me one day and told me that if I would follow his instructions he would help me with a business venture that would prove to be very profitable. I did follow his advice, and the venture turned out as he said it would. He has helped me now many times and has made only one condition: I am to keep a journal of the times he comes to me; our conversations; the help he gives me; and how it turns out.”
Later, Mrs. Smith wrote: “I have started my journal as directed by my little friend, and find it very enlightening, for as I write in it I get more out of what has transpired than in just thinking about it. I went up to see my sister, who lives in the country, and when ready to leave for home again I saw the little man leaning against the tree that I had to pass. I looked at him and he winked and nodded to me, so after I got away from the folks and could stop the car, I called to him and he was in the back seat with me. He was wearing a little coat of many shades, and it was as if he had drawn the colours from the leaves and shrubbery around him. He was very anxious that I remember to set down that the fairies can show me how they send their thoughts to mankind. It was then I realized that he and the other fairies have never spoken aloud to me, but seem to transplant their thoughts into my consciousness, and that is the way I can commune with them.”
When Mrs. Martha C. Smith was ordained, the altar was beautiful with flowers, including one large bouquet of white gladioli. Just as she rose to go to the altar to take her vows, she saw a nature spirit sitting on one of the white flowers. The lady standing beside her, when asked if she had noticed anything, replied that all she saw was a movement among the flowers, as though a large insect was crawling on them. When Mrs. Smith told the Rev. B., her teacher, about the fairy, he said he wasn’t surprised as he, too, had been conscious of something there. “The little creature was truly beautiful with her tiny wings and lovely colouring,” wrote Mrs. Smith. “I couldn’t see clearly what she was holding in her hand, but it looked like a small wand with a light shining from it, and the fairy herself was surrounded by a bluish-white aura. The vision lasted for about one minute, but oh what a minute!”
Mrs. Ellen Edgar, a Theosophist living at Rhos-on-Sea, Colwyn Bay, said, “I am
convinced of the existence of these Fairy People… I’m sure they go before us, smoothing life here and there. At times I think they are playful, and mischievous and tease us a bit. Nevertheless, I love to feel them around. I have seen them, but the incident was long ago. When I was at a Holy Communion service, I saw two sweet little faces in the flowers on the altar. Thinking perhaps I was imagining it, I looked away for a while, but they were still there when I looked again. I have only to think about them and I see them as clearly as that first time.”
It is not an uncommon occurrence to see fairies in churches, and Mrs. M. Lilley, of Kent, said that during a Harvest Festival service one of her daughters saw two little men in green in the pew in front of her.
Mrs. Emma S. King of Australia said that while attending a liberal Catholic Church service in 1938 she observed a number of nature sprites dancing on the floor and weaving patterns before the altar. They were in the charge of one of the Angels of Our Lady, and as the organ sounded forth the form of Our Lord began to glow radiantly.
In his book Fairies At Work And At Play (Theosophical Publishing House, London), Geoffrey Hodson said: “During the celebration of Mass I became aware that nature spirits of many kinds approached and hovered in a great radiant cloud in the air immediately within reach of the vibrations of the ceremony. The smaller creatures—fairies, tree spirits, and some manikins—bathed in the atmosphere of power with continuous and graceful motion. The higher and more evolved members of our hidden congregation remained relatively motionless, watching, and absorbing the force poured out, and adding enormously to the purity and beauty of the service. From the very beginning to the final blessing they shared the ceremony with us, and at its conclusion slowly melted away as they returned to their homes—in the trees, the cornfields, hedges, and flowers— taking with them, each according to his capacity, something of the blessing we had received.
“In addition to these fairy people who came to Church with us, there were also present those orders of ceremonial angels who are definitely connected with the Mass.”
At a Spiritualist Church service, one of its members mentioned the Little People when giving the final prayer, and as he did so Mrs. R. Daniels, of London, caught just a glimpse of a little flower-fairy smiling at her and clapping its hands. She described its face as “kind of pointed,” and its hat was shaped like an elf-cap fungus.
A correspondent in Perth, Tasmania, said that many times when giving clairvoyant flower-messages from a public platform she had seen little elfin nature-spirits, particularly on the carnations.
At a Subud meeting attended by Mrs. Margaretta Rowell, of Sunderland, a lady who was a medium saw a number of fairies in the room, and said that one of them had come up to her and told her he was a pixie. He had elongated ears and wore a little hat, which was turned up at the brim. The lady was very puzzled about all this and couldn’t understand why the fairies had appeared, whereupon Mrs. Rowell told them all that she believed in fairies and happened to have with her a book, which related solely to the Little People. Had the fairies known about this and shown themselves to the only person in the room who was able to see them?
Mrs. Lucy Banner, who radiated good cheer and vitality, used to have a colour-healing sanctuary at her home in Hucknall, near Nottingham, and she said that she and the members of her centre were very conscious of the fairies’ help during their healing work. Frequently, when she was lecturing on the seven rays at the house of one of her students at Nuthall, where she had another branch of her work, she was aware of the nature spirits enjoying themselves in the beautiful garden and orchard there. In 1959 she wrote to me: “This summer I have been out in the country quite a lot, and through the sun’s rays have seen the Little People dancing, with all the colours blending into what seemed like a large rainbow. It is a wonderful sight.”
Speaking of her mother, who was of an old Quaker family, Miss Hilda R. Taylor, A. Mus. TCL., of Nottingham, a teacher of the piano and violin, said: “She was an extraordinary soul, of great calm and sweetness, in spite of many difficulties and sorrows. She told me often how the fairies helped her, and she always called them ‘the good fairies’ or her ‘good angels.’” Miss Taylor herself was fully conscious of the fairies’ presence, and both she and I could see their etheric lights dancing around her as she spoke. She said the atmosphere they brought to aid her in the interpretation of music was wonderful.
About the year 1928, Mrs. Edith Warburton, of Stockport, Cheshire, saw in the sunlight four or five fairies dancing on the soil under the lower fronds of some ferns in a pot on the window. Their white gossamer gowns flowed out as they went round and round, and on their heads were bands of flowers. “I was really transfixed. They were so very lovely,” she said.
“I well remember,” wrote Mrs. Ann Spiers, from Surrey, “when I was in the infants’ class at Christ Church School in Folkestone, Kent, during 1924-25, our teacher, a Miss Rowe, told us that if we were very quiet and still when a shaft of sunlight came through our classroom window, maybe we would see the fairies at their work on the flowers. Well, for us children this was indeed something to look forward to, and one day we were rewarded by seeing a dainty little creature about four inches high, very slender, with wings that were two inches long and very transparent, perched on a leaf of one of the many plants that stood on the windowsill.” Mrs. Spiers could not recall whether the fairy was working on hyacinths, bluebells or crocuses, but she knew that the children named her “Fairy Bluebell” because she attended to the blue flowers only. She was clad in a very fine, pale blue, ballet-length dress, and wore a small bell-shaped hat, and sang very softly to herself as she dusted the petals of the flowers. She then climbed the “Fairy Staircase,” which was the children’s name for the ray of sunshine, and Mrs. Spiers remembers the children saying that the particles of dust “came from the fairies’ mops and dusters when they [the fairies] did their work.” There were 30 children in the class, which consisted of more girls than boys, and the fairy was seen by about twenty of the scholars and the teacher. In her letter, Mrs. Spiers said that she had been married for many years now and had a grown-up son of her own, but the foregoing incident in her school life was still as fresh as ever in her mind.
When Mrs. Anne W. Metcalf was living in Leamington Spa, she had on her kitchen table a plant in a pot. On a certain summer’s day about twelve noon, the sun was shining through the window on to the plant, and she was sitting looking at it without really concentrating on it or thinking of anything in particular, when she noticed on a leaf near the top of the plant, something very tiny, about two inches long, and of a gossamer appearance. It vanished as suddenly as it came, but she told her husband about it afterwards. That was the only time she had seen anything resembling a fairy, but it had remained in her memory.
On Boxing Day in 1965, when I was sitting in front of the fire listening to the wireless, the sun made a glowing rainbow across the upright tiles beneath the oak mantelpiece, and on one of the tiles an elf superimposed his face. I could not see the rest of his body, but from the size of his head he must have been not less than one foot high. He was smiling and looking straight at me. His eyes were shining, and his expression was one of such radiant joy that I, too, felt a great happiness surging through me. He stayed for about a minute, and then the shaft of light moved away from the tile and he vanished, but my feeling of happiness remained. On another occasion I had been admiring some glorious golden-yellow chrysanthemums, which were in a vase on the table, and then I went to sit in my usual armchair facing the fire, with my back to the table. Presently, to my surprise and delight, a little fairy appeared in front of me, holding a replica of one of the chrysanthemums, which she showed me with great pride. Her hair, wings, and flowing gown were the same colour as the flower, and her face was glowing with joy.
One evening, I was relaxing in the same armchair in front of the fire when a small, grey-brown gnome in a smart, russet-coloured cloak, glided slowly past me towards the right-hand corner of the room. My ey
es were closed, but when I opened them I could still see him. He turned his head to gaze at me intently, as though appraising me, and I saw quite clearly his quaint little face with its pointed chin and ears, and his eyes, which were wise and kindly. His arms were gracefully outstretched, and although he was airborne I did not notice any wings. I christened him “my homing gnome,” and no sooner had I thought this than my attention was drawn to his little russet cloak, which had softly detached itself and was floating away from him in the manner of an autumn leaf. Cloud-like in texture, it drifted for a while in front of my face and then slowly disintegrated. As might be expected, when I turned again to look at the gnome, he had disappeared.
In 1954, one of my contributors, Mrs. Clara Clayton, invited me to accompany her on the 11 October to the Nottingham Theosophical Lodge, where her blind husband was giving a talk on “The Unseen Ministry.” While he was speaking, a glorious sapphire-blue nature-spirit flashed across the hall in front of us, and it was so unexpected that we gave a gasp of surprise and looked at each other. It was such a clear, bright vision that we thought it must have been seen by other members of the audience, but of course we were unable to question anyone during the lecture, and afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Clayton had to rush to catch a bus back to Stapleford, where they then lived, and I went out with them.
When I was a schoolgirl, an elderly, very serious-minded gentleman paid us a friendly visit, and during a lull in the conversation we saw his eyes following something, which we could not see. My mother gazed enquiringly at him, and he said in matter-of-fact tones that he was watching a host of tiny winged creatures “like little angels” floating about the room.
In 1996, when Maureen, my kind, practical home-help at that time, was working in my sitting room, I walked in later and found her standing looking bemused but very happy. She told me that “a little shining thing” had flown under the table on a beam of sunlight towards her and had risen into the air in front of her. She saw that it was about three inches in length and was sparkling all over as though speckled with stardust. It was so bright that she could not see its face, and as she watched, it flew down again and disappeared. “It was so wonderful, and so lovely,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life before. I wish I could see it again.”
Seeing Fairies Page 21
