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.”
He did have a good hide. He had to, for he was famous all over England, and even in America and Australia. His name was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Most people knew him as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, the world’s most famous detective.
Sherlock Holmes was a keen-eyed, hawk-nosed man who had made detective work into a precise and rational science. Sherlock Holmes could put the tiniest clues together to find the truth. He was almost impossible to fool.
So it might seem surprising that his creator, Sir Arthur, believed in fairies. But he did.
To Sir Arthur, fairies were part of a spirit world that coexisted with the everyday world he saw all around him. The spirit world was invisible, though. Only special people could see it or hear the voices of the spirits who lived in it. Those spirits included the ghosts of dead people, Sir Arthur believed. His own son, who had died of sickness after being wounded in the Great War, was one of them.
These days, Sir Arthur went to what were called séances, where he believed people called mediums might be able to give him messages from his son in the spirit world.
Sir Arthur had many friends who, like him, were interested in the invisible world. One day, Sir Arthur happened to be talking to a friend who asked him, had he heard the talk about some actual photographs of fairies? The friend hadn’t actually seen them, but he had a friend who might know about it.
Sir Arthur talked to the friend, and then wrote a letter to a friend of that friend, and so on. He followed the trail of friends and relations until someone gave him Mr. Gardner’s name.
When the two men met, Sir Arthur was relieved to see that Mr. Gardner seemed quite rational and respectable — not wild-eyed at all.
Sir Arthur and Mr. Gardner agreed that, together, they would conduct a step-by-step investigation of the matter of the fairy photographs.
Sir Arthur would handle the London end of the detective work.
Then the plan was that Mr. Gardner would take the train up to Cottingley, visit Elsie and her family, and see what kind of people they were.
If there was any sort of fraud involved, the two men thought, it would be best to uncover it right away.
Sir Arthur went to his men’s club, the Athenaeum, and showed the fairy pictures to a
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.”
He did have a good hide. He had to, for he was famous all over England, and even in America and Australia. His name was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Most people knew him as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, the world’s most famous detective.
Sherlock Holmes was a keen-eyed, hawk-nosed man who had made detective work into a precise and rational science. Sherlock Holmes could put the tiniest clues together to find the truth. He was almost impossible to fool.
So it might seem surprising that his creator, Sir Arthur, believed in fairies. But he did.
To Sir Arthur, fairies were part of a spirit world that coexisted with the everyday world he saw all around him. The spirit world was invisible, though. Only special people could see it or hear the voices of the spirits who lived in it. Those spirits included the ghosts of dead people, Sir Arthur believed. His own son, who had died of sickness after being wounded in the Great War, was one of them.
These days, Sir Arthur went to what were called séances, where he believed people called mediums might be able to give him messages from his son in the spirit world.
Sir Arthur had many friends who, like him, were interested in the invisible world. One day, Sir Arthur happened to be talking to a friend who asked him, had he heard the talk about some actual photographs of fairies? The friend hadn’t actually seen them, but he had a friend who might know about it.
Sir Arthur talked to the friend, and then wrote a letter to a friend of that friend, and so on. He followed the trail of friends and relations until someone gave him Mr. Gardner’s name.
When the two men met, Sir Arthur was relieved to see that Mr. Gardner seemed quite rational and respectable — not wild-eyed at all.
Sir Arthur and Mr. Gardner agreed that, together, they would conduct a step-by-step investigation of the matter of the fairy photographs.
Sir Arthur would handle the London end of the detective work.
Then the plan was that Mr. Gardner would take the train up to Cottingley, visit Elsie and her family, and see what kind of people they were.
If there was any sort of fraud involved, the two men thought, it would be best to uncover it right away.
Sir Arthur went to his men’s club, the Athenaeum, and showed the fairy pictures to a
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