The Bodleian Library in Oxford is one of the oldest libraries in the world. Founded in 1602, it houses countless treasures, but among the shelves are several seventeenth-century manuscripts containing something rather unexpected: detailed instructions for seeing fairies.
These are not folktales or literary fantasies. They are practical instructions — recipes, rituals and preparations written down by people who clearly believed they worked. Centuries later, the manuscripts remain preserved, catalogued and available to scholars who wish to study them.
Many of the most intriguing examples passed through the hands of Elias Ashmole, a man whose life seems almost impossible to summarise. He was an astrologer, alchemist, collector, scholar and founder of what became Britain's first public museum. That the same man helped preserve fairy-summoning charms tells us something about how differently knowledge was understood in the seventeenth century.
Elias Ashmole and the Bodleian manuscripts
Elias Ashmole was born in Lichfield in 1617 and spent much of his life collecting knowledge in all its forms. He was fascinated by astrology, alchemy, natural history and antiquities, and over the years assembled an extraordinary collection of manuscripts, specimens and curiosities.
In 1683 he donated twelve wagonloads of material to the University of Oxford, requesting that a dedicated building be constructed to house them. That building became the Ashmolean Museum, still one of Oxford's great institutions today.
Among Ashmole's papers is a manuscript known as MS 1406, compiled around the turn of the seventeenth century. Its pages contain astrological notes, alchemical recipes, magical operations and, nestled among them, instructions for making an ointment said to allow the user to see fairies.
The fairy ointment
What is striking about the fairy ointment is how ordinary its ingredients are.
The manuscript instructs the reader to take a pint of salad oil and place it in a glass vessel, first washing it repeatedly with rose water and marigold water. The flowers, it notes, should be gathered from the eastern side of the plant. The oil must be washed until it becomes pale.
Only then should it be applied to the eyes.
To modern readers this may sound strange, but the level of detail would have been entirely familiar to anyone versed in traditional herbal practice. Timing, direction and preparation were all considered important. Just as Midsummer herbs were gathered at particular times, flowers facing the sunrise were thought to possess their own significance.
What I find most interesting is that the ingredients themselves are not rare or exotic. Rose and marigold have long histories in British herbal traditions and can still be found growing in gardens and cottage plots today. The recipe feels rooted in the landscape rather than removed from it. The path to fairy sight, according to this manuscript, began with familiar plants gathered and prepared with care.
The summoning of Margaret Barrance
Elsewhere in the manuscript is a much more elaborate operation intended to summon a fairy named Margaret Barrance.
The procedure begins with a broad crystal or Venetian glass mirror. The mirror is laid in the blood of a white hen on three separate Wednesdays or Fridays, then washed and fumigated.
Next come three hazel sticks, each a year old and stripped of bark. The name of the fairy is written three times on every stick before they are buried beneath a hill known to be frequented by fairies. A few days later they are dug up again, and the caller is instructed to make the invocation at one of several specified hours.
The choice of hazel is particularly intriguing. Across Britain and Ireland, hazel appears again and again in folklore. Hazel rods were used for divination, hazel nuts were linked with wisdom, and hazel wands feature throughout folk magic traditions. The manuscript never explains its reasoning, but to those writing it, the choice of wood would not have been accidental.
In fact, very little in these instructions feels accidental. Every material, every day and every action appears to have been chosen for a reason.
The Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet
Another manuscript, known as the Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet and dating from around 1620–30, describes a different method for seeing fairies.
Unlike the previous ritual, this one takes place at home.
The instructions begin with a bowl of fresh ale placed upon the table. Three white cloths are laid out, along with three knives with white handles. A fire of sweet cloven wood is lit, and the practitioner sits facing the flames.
The most unusual element concerns the preparation of the ointment itself. On the evening before a new or full moon, a bucket of clean water is left beside the hearth. The first person awake the next morning is instructed to collect a substance described as a fat or jelly floating upon the surface.
This mysterious residue was believed to be connected to the fairies themselves. Gathered with a silver spoon and stored carefully, it formed the basis of the ointment used to see them.
Once everything has been prepared, the practitioner anoints their eyes and sits quietly before the fire.
Then comes one of the most remarkable lines in all these manuscripts:
"And when you have sitten so a while, you shall see three women come in."
What lingers with me is the certainty of that statement. There is no hesitation, no suggestion that something might happen. The manuscript simply assumes success. Whether we interpret that confidence as belief, experience or something else entirely, it offers a fascinating glimpse into the mindset of the people who recorded these practices.
Why these manuscripts matter
It is easy to dismiss such manuscripts as relics of superstition, but doing so overlooks something important.
What runs through all of these instructions is attention.
The flowers must be gathered correctly. The moon must be watched. The right wood must be chosen. The hazel sticks must be of a particular age. The practitioner must sit quietly and observe.
These are the habits of people deeply engaged with the natural world around them.
The same culture that produced these fairy rituals also produced the herbal traditions, seasonal customs and plant lore that have survived for centuries. Whether or not one believes the rituals achieved their stated aim, they reveal a way of living that required close observation of plants, weather, landscape and season.
The manuscripts themselves remain preserved within the Bodleian collections. Ashmole's museum still stands. And this week, just before Midsummer, both roses and marigolds are flowering in gardens and along hedgerows much as they were when these instructions were first written down.
The line that stays with me is this:
"You shall see three women come in."
The roses and marigolds are flowering now. Midsummer is almost here and what you make of the connection between those things is entirely up to you!
From the shop
The June Almanac box is still available and includes two signed art prints, a 32-page illustrated zine exploring Midsummer folklore, Pai Mu Tan white tea with rose petals, a wild English rose lip balm, a wooden badger totem and a moon phase calendar. Each item has been chosen to reflect this particular point in the seasonal year.
The botanical hair wash is also available in the shop. Made with seven hedgerow plants including soapwort, marshmallow root and rosemary, it draws on the same long tradition of understanding plants, their properties and the care with which they are prepared.