“I was thoroughly inspired… I did a lot of research on it and it inspired me to write a song about the painting, depicting what I thought I saw in it. It was just because I’d come through art college and I basically like the artist and I like the painting, so I thought I’d like to write a song about it.” – Freddie Mercury
The story of The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke carries the vivid image of Freddie Mercury dragging friends, bandmates, producers and lovers the Tate Gallery to see Richard Dadd’s oil-on-canvas. A 1971 issue of Oz magazine described its strange allure: “Join the crowd of children and freaks who make the pilgrimage to the Tate basement and stand mesmerised in front of The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke.” The thought of standing there with Mercury, examining this painting and absorbing its details remains a compelling one, and an idea I’ve mulled over for several years.
A “print” of The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke surfaced among Mercury’s possessions in Sotheby’s 2023 sale. Estimated at £40-£60, it ultimately sold for £16,510. The reverse of that print revealed that it had been cut from a 1972 Sunday Time Magazine, specifically an article about Richard Dadd by curator Patricia Allderidge. Entitled Midsummer Nightmare, the article traced Richard Dadd’s artistic development from his early training at the Royal Academy of Arts to the dense folkloric scenes that would blur the boundary between fantasy and reality.
The article, specifically the caption that accompanied this “print”, employed remarkably specific language that almost exactly match the song lyrics of The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke. Like Mercury, Allderidge lists pairs of figures assembled in this strange gathering: the fairy folk convening at night’s noon time, as well as familiar characters such as the Arch-Magician, the ploughman, Waggoner Will, a politician with a senatorial pipe, a crouching pedagogue squinting by two ladies’ maids, and a satyr who peers under a girl’s skirt. There’s also the Shakespearean figures, Queen Mab, Oberon and Titania, as well as the nursery rhyme favourites, soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, ploughboy. There’s tatterdemalion, a junketer, and a dragonfly trumpeter, however, the thief and the apothecary are missing from the song.
It’s remarkable to encounter this article now, particularly in light of how the original print was listed, the name of the magazine was not listed. The author was misattributed. The signifiance of the article was ultimately overlooked. Despite that, its existence invites reflection on what may have been a primary source of inspiration for the song for Mercury.
The article’s existences complicates Mercury’s claim that he simply absorbed the painting. However, I believe it points to something more subtle, namely Mercury’s sensitivity to the sound, the rhythm and the suggestion of language. These beautifully archaic terms evoke a surreal, otherworldly landscape, one Queen were able to render that in such a clever and sophisticated way. The scene and the pace is frenetic, and you can’t help but feel that the scene has been perfectly extrapolated.
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