The Cottingley Fairies
The Cottingley Fairies
An Innocent Hoax
How a pair of Yorkshire schoolgirls caused a global commotion and fooled one of the great literary minds of their era…
by Matt Callard
Today’s masters of the sinister and wrinkle-less world of photo manipulation might look at the famous sepia-tinted pictures from 1917 and wonder how they could possibly have fooled anyone. But no matter what fantastical wire-work and blue screen conjury leaps at you from the silver screens today, it is important to remember that nothing can ever impact audiences as much as those early, naïve moving pictures did.
This was cinema’s Golden Age, and infant days for the still and moving image – and a much less cynical and manipulative time in general for both filmmakers and film-goers. It was a time when audiences more had to suspend their belief, than their disbelief, and when people, surrounded by the horrors of the First World War, felt more of a need to embrace the spiritual and the unknown and before the dirty fingers of World War II propaganda truly embraced the power of film. Séances, spirit channeling and clairvoyance were common pursuits for a nation entwined in the horrors of the Great War. Indeed, this particular tale was only two years on from another great British hoax, the Angels of Mons – divine interventions that supposedly helped British soldiers win a decisive battle in Belgium – which was, in fact, a groundbreaking piece of moral-boosting war propaganda.
“Impish beauty of childhood imagination”
Elsie Wright was always creative. She’d attended Bradford Arts College since she was 13 and painted landscapes and portraits throughout her life. She also had camera experience, having been employed in a photographic lab during her teens. Her father, Arthur Wright, was an early qualified electrical engineer with access to – rare in those days – photographic equipment and a dark room. She was only 17 when she borrowed her father’s camera (a Butcher Magazine Type Falling ¼ plate camera, to be precise), took her 10-year-old cousin Frances Griffith into the long grass by the beck that ran along the bottom of the cottage where they lived in Cottingley, near Bradford, and took, initially, just one shot of Frances, half-smiling and leaning on a mossy rock – which also just happened to host four playful, leaping fairies.
To assume this was the initial stages of a wicked, publicity-seeking master plan would do disservice to the impish beauty of childhood imagination. The two children would often play for hours, day in-day out, near Cottingley beck, a minute’s walk from their house. When, one day, Frances was asked by her mother and aunt why she spent so much time there, Frances replied, after a moment’s thought, that she “went to see the fairies.”
“Cut them out and stick them up”
The adults’ reactions to the photo appear to have veered from humoured disbelief to outright anger, but one thing is certain; their reactions somewhat upset Frances. Elsie hatched a scheme; not to fool the world, but more to placate her rebuked relatives. In a famous interview for The Mysterious World of Arthur C. Clarke in 1982 Frances, in her gentle Yorkshire accent, said: “Elsie said one night as we were getting ready for bed: ‘I’ve been thinking,’ – she was a real cinema-goer was Elsie, ‘What if I draw some fairies and cut them out in cardboard and we’ll stick them up in the grass. See if uncle and dad will lend the camera and we’ll take a photograph. So if they see them they’ll have to believe us and stop all this joking.'” So that’s exactly what the girls did.
Afterwards, Elsie sat in the dark room with her father as he developed the photograph. As the image slowly revealed itself, Elsie is said to have shouted through the door to her cousin, who was waiting eagerly on the other side: “The fairies are on the plate! The fairies are on the plate!”
“Interest in theosophy”
Arthur Wright, being a practical and pragmatic sort of chap, didn’t think a great deal of the picture, preferring to chaste Elsie for, remarkably, poor composition. According to Elsie, his first reaction at seeing one of the most talked-about pictures of the 20th century was: “I’ll tell you what it’s coming up like that picture, it’s very untidy.” The girls’ mothers were slightly more interested, down to a burgeoning interest in theosophy – (a form of philosophical or religious thought based on a mystical insight into the divine nature) very popular at that time – but the matter seems to have been quickly dismissed. When Frances took a second picture several weeks later of Elsie playing with a gnome-like creature, practical Arthur Wright simply refused to lend them the camera again.
It could all have ended right there, but for the meddlesome interferences of the adult world. Unbeknown to the girls, two years on from the date the original photo was taken, their mothers’ interest in theosophy had increased and taken them to meetings in Bradford where they had chanced upon a speaker who mentioned fairies. Polly Wright approached the speaker and told him of the pictures, whereupon he persuaded the mother to let members of the Bradford Lodge view the glass negative plates. Through the Lodge, the photographs eventually came to the attention of Edward Gardner, a major player in the theosophical movement and, suddenly, events took an altogether unanticipated turn.
“A single exposure”
Gardner, in the first of a few Machiavellian tinkerings, convinced the girls’ parents to allow them further use of the camera for more pictures. Simultaneously he checks the authenticity of the existing plates with so-called photographic ‘experts’. Possibly, he tampers with the images to ‘bring them out’ a little. The original prints are actually rather blurry and thinly developed. The experts duly return with a statement: ‘This plate is a single exposure. These dancing figures are not made of paper nor of any fabric. They are not painted on a photographed background. But what gets me most is that all these figures have moved during exposure.’
The so-called ‘movement’ of the fairies was, in fact, caused by the wind. Something Elsie explained and demonstrated in 1982: “What we did was (use) a long hat pin that we put down the back like that and stuck the tape at the back (then) we wormed that (the pin) down into the earth. The thing was, they said they could see that the fairies were moving when the photographs were taken. But that’s because we did them in a breeze.”
Gardner, no doubt feverish with the publicity bug, then played his masterstroke and met a certain well-known published author.
“The 5th picture”
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was probably Britain’s most eminent literary figure of the day. The fact that he had undergone a spiritualist conversion directly contrary to the set beliefs of his most brilliant creation – a certain Sherlock Holmes – a character who flatly refused belief in the supernatural and dealt only in hard fact, seemed something of an inconvenient irony. Conan Doyle, immediately intrigued by Gardener’s ‘find’ promptly wrote an article for London’s illustrious The Strand magazine. In it he vindicated the photographs’ authenticity. The magazine sold out in days. Soon the story was around the world.
Meanwhile, the girls had been busy. No doubt much to Gardner’s satisfaction they had returned with no less than three new pictures. One showing a fairy offering a posy to Elsie. Another showing a fairy leaping at Frances. And the final, and most intriguing – the so-called ‘5th picture’ – showing a supposed fairy sun-bath. This strange and ethereal picture might just have been the most remarkable piece of luck. It is possibly caused by a double exposure. The image in the centre of the picture shows, to fairy believers anyway, a magnetic bath, woven quickly by the fairies. The creatures use them especially in the autumn following dull weather! Neither of the girls knew about this strange piece of fairy-lore. Frances, despite admitting the hoax on the other four photographs, went to her death bed insisting on this photograph’s providence and that she had really seen fairies.
“Our physical octave”
The furore died down, naturally, and the west got on with the jazz age and its impending loss of innocence. Sceptics eventually buried the story. Truth magazine probably saying it best: ‘For the true explanation of these fairy photographs what is wanted is not a knowledge of occult phenomena but a knowledge of children.’ An aged Arthur Conan Doyle never really recovered his stature. But he was never anything less than a man of great integrity. Elsie later confessed to a frisson of shame that the true intention of the pictures had eluded such an esteemed figure: “It was very embarrassing because there’s two village kids and a brilliant man like Conan Doyle. Well, we could only just keep quiet!”
Gardner reaped his rewards on the theosophy circuit, later publishing a book, Fairies: The Cottingley Photographs and Their Sequel. He never softened his stance on the photographs’ authenticity – hardened it, if anything. He wrote in his 1945 book: ‘Within our physical octave there are degrees of density that elude ordinary vision. Thus, faeries are small because they adapt themselves to our ideas… Sometimes they assume the shape of diminutive human beings, half-visible, and perhaps are stimulated to appear so by human thought processes, desires, and expectations.’ Maybe he was a little too concerned with Conan Doyle’s contemporary, JM Barrie, author of Peter Pan. He once wrote: ‘Everytime someone says ‘I don’t believe in fairies’ there’s a little fairy somewhere that falls down dead.’
“Can you go through life and keep a secret?”
And the girls, well, they got on with life. They married, had children. Elsie emigrated for a while and returned. In the early seventies interest re-surfaced. An interview with Nationwide in 1971 saw the ladies in impeccably mischievous form. When the interviewer asks: “Are they trick photographs?” Elsie replies: “I’d rather leave that open if you don’t mind.” Then later, after being asked: “Have you had your fun with the world for 50-years?” Elsie laughs a little, then gently says: “I think we’ll close on that if you don’t mind.”
Five years later the sparky elderlies brush off a needlessly combative Austin Mitchell. The journalist, for Yorkshire Television, demands to know if they fabricated the photographs. “Of course not,” says Frances. “You tell us how she could do it? Remember she was 16 and I was 10. So then, as a child of 10, can you go through life and keep a secret?” Mitchell gets nothing from them and, frankly, it’s all he deserves.
“They wanted to believe”
The eighties confession interviews explained how the girls had cut out images from fairytale books. They then suspend the paper figures on long hat pins sunk into the earth. It was never going to be rocket science. It was only ever, at worst, a childish bit of mischief. Until the adults became involved, of course. Frances told the magazine The Unexplained: “I never thought of it being a fraud. It was just Elsie and I having a bit of fun. I can’t understand it to this day why people were taken in – people wanted to be taken in. People often say to me: ‘Don’t you feel ashamed that you’ve made all these poor people look fools? They believed in you.’ But I don’t, because they wanted to believe. We didn’t have to tell a lie about it at all because always someone came out to justify it.”
Elsie and Frances died two years apart in 1986 and 1988.
Hollywood descended on Cottingley for a 1997 film starring, rather incongruously, Harvey Keitel. There are still, despite the confessions, plenty of believers still out there. Including modern-day theosophists and those inevitable conspiracy theorists who believe the confessions are fake. They’re all right there on YouTube should you care to look. A nineties auction of the original glass negatives sold for £6,000.
Yes, for certain, the fairytale lives on.
So, if on certain sunlight-dappled days you chance upon a small stream with the sunlight glinting through the leaves, with dandelion florets dancing and reflecting across the water, spare a thought for the wide eyes of childhood and how they, just might, see things a little bit differently.