Acquisition of the second sight, and the ability to see through fairy glamour and watch the Good Folk, is a gift many desire. It can come from many sources, some easily achieved (it would appear); many purely fortuitous.
Let’s start with the cases of luck. In one Scottish case, a child left asleep upon a fairy knoll came away from the spot endowed with the second sight. Whether this was a matter of the place alone, or the result of an intervention by the sith folk because they had chosen to favour the infant, we cannot tell. Cromek recorded that a person invited inside a fairy hill to feast with the inhabitants went away afterwards with the second sight, implying that the food itself or perhaps the proximity to the fairies could have been the source. If it was the food, this will of course be in stark contrast to the usual outcome, in which the person eating faery food in Faery becomes trapped there.
Contact with the fairies seems to be fundamental to the transfer, as is seen in Enys Tregarthen’s story of the fairy child Skerry Werry, published in 1940. A lost fairy child was taken in and cared for by a widow on Bodmin Moor. The longer the little girl stayed, the better the old woman’s ‘pixy sight’ became, so that she could see the pisky lights on the moor. The story implies that it was simply Skerry-Werry’s residence that had the effect. More traditionally, as in Tregarthen’s story The Nurse Who Broke Her Promise, which was published in the same year, a human midwife bathing a fairy baby is told not to splash bath water in her eyes (or, even more commonly is asked to anoint the child with ointment, but not touch herself) and a breach of such an injunction is what transfers the magic vision.
A third example is even stranger: an old Somerset woman who used to nurse those who were sick was one day walking to a well for water when a moth brushed against her face. This gave her the pixy-sight and she immediately saw a little man, who asked her to come with him to try to come with him to tend his seriously ill wife. I have mentioned the fairy association with moths before, so this incident has some precedents.
Gifts of second sight from the fairies are certainly reported. Scottish woman Isobel Sinclair was granted such a power, so that she would “know giff thair be any fey bodie in the house” (as her trial on Orkney in February 1633 was told). A substantial part of the case against her was that she was “a dreamer of dreams.”
Elspeth Reoch had been tried fifteen years previously for very similar reasons to Sinclair: she had had contact with the fairies and they had given her ability to see into the future and tell fortunes. Elspeth was instructed in two methods of obtaining the second sight. One was to roast an egg and use the ‘sweat of it’ (the moisture that appeared on the shell, presumably) to wash her hands and then rub her eyes. The second technique was to pick the flower called millefleur and, kneeling on her right knee, to pull the plant between her middle finger and thumb, invoking the Christian trinity.
Once one person had the gift, others could benefit. Contact with them, by touching them or by looking over a shoulder, would reveal the fairies to the second person as well.
Be warned, though. The fairies object to uninvited intrusions and to any behaviour they regard as spying. There is a Victorian report of a case from Wrexham in which a fairy blinded a person just because he looked at it. A very similar account comes from Exmoor: a person who ‘had dealings’ with the pixies later saw them thieving at the market in Minehead. When she protested, she was blinded. Alone, these cases might appear to be truncated versions of the midwife stories mentioned earlier; these nearly always culminate with the midwife spotting the fairy father on a later occasion, whether he is stealing goods at a fair or market or simply out and about in the human world. She addresses him, giving away her secret, and, in response, she is blinded, whether by a breath in the face or some more physical means. However, the Wrexham and Minehead stories both suggest that anyone who has the second sight, for whatever reason, might suffer as a consequence if a fairy objects to it.
Seeing through the fairies’ glamour risks exposing those aspects of their conduct that they might rather keep concealed from us (their propensity for stealing our property perhaps being the least of them). Knowing their secrets can put us in peril, so that it is possibly rash to wish too fervently for knowledge of their hidden world.