The Ghost stories of Fyvie Castle
The Curse
The oldest tower at Fyvie Castle is called the Preston Tower – and Henry Preston who was Laird from 1390-1433 is credited with having built it, with its massive walls six to eight feet thick and twenty four feet square.
Between the years 1210 -1220, there is said to have been born a poet, Thomas of Erceldoune, commonly known both to his contemporaries and through the legend as 'True Tammas' or 'Tammas the Rhymer'. He was a real person, however, the many prophesies attributed to him were no doubt invented after the events they were alleged to predict, and he has been immortalised in legend and superstition, as well as by the unsolved mystery of his eventual disappearance. He appears to have been a prophet of gloomy foreboding, who invariably foretold stormy weather, general disaster, or torrents of blood; like all prophets he cautiously uttered his predictions with a studied ambiguity, and seems to have had a predilection for cursing most of the ancient Houses in Scotland.
The tale of the stones, like everything connected with Tammas, is lost in a hazy tradition from which it is difficult to disentangle any distinct facts, but it is related that Fyvie had been expecting a visit from 'True Tammas', and apparently to conciliate that alarming prophet, the gates of the castle had been left open in welcome for an unprecedented time – tradition says seven years and a day. When he did appear, he was accompanied by a violent storm of wind and rain that stripped the surrounding trees of their leaves, and blew the Castle gates shut with a loud crash. But, while the tempest was raging on all sides, it was noticed that close by the spot where Tammas stood, there was not 'wind enough to shake a pile of grass or a hair of his beard'.
And in the midst of that nerve-shattering hurricane, Tammas, according to his invariable custom, pronounced a curse – the generally accepted version goes:
Fyvyn's riggs and towers,
Hapless shall your mesdames be,
When ye shall hae within your methes,
Frae harryit kirks lands, stanes three;
Ane in the oldest tower,
Ane in my ladie's bower,
And ane below the water-yett,
And it ye shall never get.
Now the 'methes' are stones or lines indicating a boundary. This, and the expression 'harryit kirks lands' seem to confirm that the stones in question were in truth some boundary line between the Church lands and the lands of the Laird in the parish of Fyvie. It is even possible that the alleged position of the three mysterious stones in the Castle may, in some subtle way, indicate the direction of the violated property.
The interpretation of Tammas's remarks has been that until the three stones were together again, some mysterious doom would hang over Fyvie, and this was accompanied by his assurance that the stones never could be put together! Yet the verses actually state that so long as these three ominous stones are within the boundaries of Fyvie, ill-luck will ensue, therefore their expulsion not their acquisition, is needed.
Of what the threatened doom consisted, however, the prophet wisely refrained from hinting, and his malediction has therefore been explained in various ways:
One version is that no heir shall ever be born in the Castle, and for five hundred years this is said to have been fulfilled. Another is that Fyvie will never pass in direct succession for two generations, or from a father to his eldest son; and the fact that it remained so long in the gift of the Sovereign no doubt gave credence to the supposition: while in the case of Sir James Lindsay and Sir Henry Preston neither had any male heir. The fate of the Setons and the Gordons served to perpetuate the belief.
Legend persists that Sir Henry sacrilegiously used one of the sacred or boundary stones in his building of, or addition to, what is now the oldest tower, and in so doing cemented for all time the curse within the fortunes of Fyvie Castle. A tale remains that for a long time there existed on the battlements of Preston Tower a stone which behaved as no stone should – it was dry when it should have been wet, and wet when it should have been dry, till at last through incessant weeping and erratic behaviour it crumbled away! Finally it is hinted that the third mysterious stone which is beneath the 'water-yett' is actually built into the foundation of the oldest tower, and that never till that foundation mingles with the dust can the curse be dispelled.
All three mysterious stones are said to be 'weeping stones' – at times they are dry and at times they emit moisture. It is said they weep when any ill threatens the Laird of Fyvie, and today one stone, un-traced, is said to be built into the Preston Tower, one lies unclaimed beneath the waters of the Ythan, and only one can be located – perhaps it was once in 'my lady's bower' but it now resides in the Charter Room at Fyvie Castle, where at times it is bone dry and at others exudes enough moisture to fill the two bowls in which it lies.
The Charter Room
The great wheel staircase
The Green Ladye in history
The legend surrounds Lilias Drummond, the first wife of Alexander Seton (First Earl of Dunfermline and Laird of Fyvie 1596-1622). Her sister Catherine had married the owner of Leslie castle which was about twenty miles away from Fyvie, and one can imagine that the two sisters had frequent contact, being only that distance apart and with their husbands being old friends. Catherine bore her husband a daughter and a son, but Lilias was not so lucky. She had five daughters in the nine years she was married but no sons; and her eldest daughter can only have been about eight years old when her still youthful mother is reported to have died at Delgaty in Fife (where Alexander had a house and estate). She died on the 8th May 1601, and was laid to rest in the vault at Dalgety that Alexander Seton had had built for himself and his wife - or so history says.
The great stairway at Fyvie Castle winds upwards to terminate abruptly in a window on the left and small room on the right which opens directly onto the stone steps. This very small room has been called 'the murder room' for generations, and it maybe that the dark panelling conveys a sombre impression which ties in with its sinister name, but there is about it a perceptible atmosphere of gloom and oppression and there are patches on the wooden floor that are explained as bloodstains.
Tradition maintains that there was once imprisoned in this room 'one of the ladies Dunfermline'. Her name, and her crime, real or imaginary, are lost to us, but some relate that an outraged husband mistreated her; others that she was kept captive by some enemy who in stormy times had raided the Castle; others that she had been guilty of some terrible crime. But the tale runs that she was held there with a guard's arm across the door, while all who made their way up the winding stair in a vain attempt to rescue her, were barbarously slaughtered in her presence and their bodes thrown out of the adjacent window. From the horrors she was forced to witness the lady went mad, and was kept in confinement in another room until her death, which was caused, it was said, by starvation. The room where she is said to have died has long been called 'the ghost room' from the alleged haunting of the unhappy victim.
Another, more explicit haunting tale concerns Dame Lilias Drummond herself. Her husband Alexander was anxious for an heir, and Lilias's inability to produce one, it is said, made Alexander look elsewhere. The closeness of his family and that of his friend, the Master of Rothes, meant that the two families saw a lot of one another – and tradition recounts briefly that he fell in love with his niece Grizel Leslie, and Dame Lilias died.
Within six months of Lilias's death, on October 27th 1601, a marriage contract was drawn up between the Master of Rothes and Alexander, Lord Fyvie, empowering Alexander to marry Grizel Leslie. For some reason, probably because masons were still working on the main part of the building, they spent their wedding night in a more remote room above the Charter Room in the older part of the Castle. Here they heard heavy sighs outside their room, and in the morning they found the name of the dead wife scratched into the stone windowsill – and from within the room the letters were upside down and could only have been carved from outside! (The carved name can still be seen today but the windowsill in existence in 1601 has long since been replaced, inclusive of a new carved version of the name).
It is said that the unhappy Dame Lilias, clad in shimmering green satin and emitting an iridescent light, with ropes of pearls round her neck and wound through her hair, still flits up the wide stairway that her husband built, and along the corridors of the home where she was supplanted by a younger rival.
Some say that the sighting of the 'Green Ladye' bodes evil to the reigning family at Fyvie; others say that she is simply revisiting the home she once loved and where she was foully done to death. It is said too, that in the room where the lady was kept until her death, there is often seen a wan, mysterious, phosphorescent light.
With regard to the tradition of the 'murder room', the period when Dame Lilias lived was comparatively peaceful, since she died before the start of the Civil War, and the Castle is unlikely to have been raided during her residence there. It is even doubtful if the great stairway was finished in her lifetime, and the small room at the top may not have existed unless it was part of the earlier building. So maybe two separate tales have been blended into one, and that the fate of Dame Lilias has been confused with that of another person at another time. However, the feeling that Dame Lilias is indeed the 'Green Ladye' has remained strong throughout history and into today's times.
The great stairway at Fyvie Castle winds upwards to terminate abruptly in a window on the left and small room on the right which opens directly onto the stone steps. This very small room has been called 'the murder room' for generations, and it maybe that the dark panelling conveys a sombre impression which ties in with its sinister name, but there is about it a perceptible atmosphere of gloom and oppression and there are patches on the wooden floor that are explained as bloodstains.
Tradition maintains that there was once imprisoned in this room 'one of the ladies Dunfermline'. Her name, and her crime, real or imaginary, are lost to us, but some relate that an outraged husband mistreated her; others that she was kept captive by some enemy who in stormy times had raided the Castle; others that she had been guilty of some terrible crime. But the tale runs that she was held there with a guard's arm across the door, while all who made their way up the winding stair in a vain attempt to rescue her, were barbarously slaughtered in her presence and their bodes thrown out of the adjacent window. From the horrors she was forced to witness the lady went mad, and was kept in confinement in another room until her death, which was caused, it was said, by starvation. The room where she is said to have died has long been called 'the ghost room' from the alleged haunting of the unhappy victim.
Another, more explicit haunting tale concerns Dame Lilias Drummond herself. Her husband Alexander was anxious for an heir, and Lilias's inability to produce one, it is said, made Alexander look elsewhere. The closeness of his family and that of his friend, the Master of Rothes, meant that the two families saw a lot of one another – and tradition recounts briefly that he fell in love with his niece Grizel Leslie, and Dame Lilias died.
Within six months of Lilias's death, on October 27th 1601, a marriage contract was drawn up between the Master of Rothes and Alexander, Lord Fyvie, empowering Alexander to marry Grizel Leslie. For some reason, probably because masons were still working on the main part of the building, they spent their wedding night in a more remote room above the Charter Room in the older part of the Castle. Here they heard heavy sighs outside their room, and in the morning they found the name of the dead wife scratched into the stone windowsill – and from within the room the letters were upside down and could only have been carved from outside! (The carved name can still be seen today but the windowsill in existence in 1601 has long since been replaced, inclusive of a new carved version of the name).
It is said that the unhappy Dame Lilias, clad in shimmering green satin and emitting an iridescent light, with ropes of pearls round her neck and wound through her hair, still flits up the wide stairway that her husband built, and along the corridors of the home where she was supplanted by a younger rival.
Some say that the sighting of the 'Green Ladye' bodes evil to the reigning family at Fyvie; others say that she is simply revisiting the home she once loved and where she was foully done to death. It is said too, that in the room where the lady was kept until her death, there is often seen a wan, mysterious, phosphorescent light.
With regard to the tradition of the 'murder room', the period when Dame Lilias lived was comparatively peaceful, since she died before the start of the Civil War, and the Castle is unlikely to have been raided during her residence there. It is even doubtful if the great stairway was finished in her lifetime, and the small room at the top may not have existed unless it was part of the earlier building. So maybe two separate tales have been blended into one, and that the fate of Dame Lilias has been confused with that of another person at another time. However, the feeling that Dame Lilias is indeed the 'Green Ladye' has remained strong throughout history and into today's times.
The Green Ladye?
This portrait which has gone missing, is historically claimed to be of Lilias Drummond, 'The Green Ladye'. But the portrait was painted in 1675 and Lilias is reported to have died in 1601.
Stories from the Fyvie Castle of today
The tales so far have come down to us through history, but what have the people who live and work in the Castle seen in these modern times? There follows transcripts of conversations I have had and information supplied to me, all of which are first hand.
Robert – Property Manager:
When Robert first became Property Manager he was told by several staff and people in the village that he would either be accepted or not accepted by the castle itself.
The previous Property Manager had come to the Castle some 4 months pregnant. She lived in an apartment at the top of the Castle which was made up of rooms which had been day nursery, night nursery, servants quarters, and a room called the panelled bedroom which had been the Seton's bedroom at one time. She felt that the castle did not accept her, and when she brought her baby son home from hospital, she always felt that the spirit of Lilias Drummond disliked her because she had born a son and Lilias had not been able to.
She had a physical problem with some doors – imagine a door out of a room into a corridor, and another door opposite into another room. At some time the corridor itself had been blocked off, leaving a short passage between 2 doors. With a baby in the apartment she always shut all the doors, and actually found herself numerous times in the passage bit with both doors locked to her i.e. she was locked in and could not open the doors to either room.
She had a modern electric sewing machine in one of the rooms that had been a nursery, and it turned itself on – you could see the foot pedal being depressed and it whirred away all by itself.
Robert experienced the door problem once – he went to open one of the doors in the apartment and got it open only a little way – he could not open it further and it felt like someone was actively trying to push it shut. He went away and came back a short time later when he was able to open the door normally.
As Property Manager he has no choice but to live on the job. He started shortly before the 250th anniversary of the first sighting of the Green Ladye (which is widely interpreted as Lilias Drummond) in Oct – that is when the Earl of Dunfermline (Alexander Seton) re-married. For the first few months he noticed that things kept moving – an extremely neat and tidy person, with a passion for antiques quite in keeping with the castle at large, he liked everything placed with symmetry. For example, he would have an antique jug on a tray centred on a side table, and some mornings it would have been moved right to the edge of the table.
One of those mornings in Oct as he was coming from the bedrooms towards the dining room he could see a light on. This was weird because, as Property Manager, and with fears of fire always present, he ensured every light was off before retiring each night. As he came into the dining room he saw the main ceiling light was on (and he NEVER used it because he didn't like it – preferring table lamps) - all the chairs around the dining room table had been moved out and mis-aligned, and the drawers in both sideboards had been opened. He first thought 'burglary' but then realised that this was impossible because the whole castle was alarmed. He feels that something was making a point.
In his kitchen – a thoroughly modern one with chrome mixer taps on the sink, the hot tap turns on with an audible click. This happens by itself when, although Robert is in the room, he is nowhere near it.
His hi-fi unit turns itself on and off all by itself too. The manufacturer offered to change it even though they had never had the problem before.
All these things come in spates – things will go quiet for months and nothing is seen or heard and then it flares up again - October is a favourite month.
One evening Robert was with a friend in the apartment's dining room and one of them was looking at a music score – he asked for more light so Robert turned on the 4th table lamp (3 were already on). He then went out of the room to get himself a drink and on returning a short while later, noticed that the lamp he had turned on was now off. His friend had left the room, and Robert thought the bulb had blown. But when he went to take it out to replace it there was no bulb there. He thought his friend was playing a game but when the friend came back he swore it was not him. The morning after, the bulbs were missing from all 4 table lamps and they were never found.
When TV crews have filmed at various times they have all had massive power-drain problems. In the programme 'I'm Famous and I'm Frightened' the power drain and lights getting very dim seen on live TV was not a 'fix'. In one radio interview, the interviewer got through 6 power packs just to record one short piece.
Two friends were staying overnight with Robert and had retired to bed. The lady woke up and saw someone going out of the room. She screamed, woke her husband (and Robert) and spent the rest of the night in a very agitated state. In the morning they asked about the ghost stories and had not heard about the Green Ladye. But when Robert got to the bit about the lingering scent of Attar of Roses or something similar and floral, the husband dropped his toast because that is exactly what he could smell in the room when rudely awoken.
Another couple – Ian and Lyla Powrie – were attending a function and Lyla was sitting by the fireplace in the Gallery but getting extremely agitated – eventually she had to go outside and would not go back in even to get her coat. The next morning (they were staying with friends nearby) they heard the story of the Green Ladye and Lilias Drummond. Lyla's full name before she got married was Lilias Drummond.
You can feel the quiet in the castle and can feel something more – maybe spirits from the past - when the castle is quiet. When it is busy you don't notice it so much (but in some areas it is noticeable all the time – I found it in the Gordon Dressing Room – the 'ghost room' and the Charter Room. Funnily enough I noticed nothing odd about the 'murder room'.)
A nanny to the Forbes-Leith children during 1930's, 1940's and 1950's remembered staff seeing and hearing things. The old Staff quarters (and they had been staff quarters for centuries) had a very sad feel - as if bad things had happened there. An example quoted was in times gone by a Laird may have taken a fancy to a maid and visited her in the staff quarters – she would have had no options in the matter, which today would be considered rape.
Robert – Property Manager:
When Robert first became Property Manager he was told by several staff and people in the village that he would either be accepted or not accepted by the castle itself.
The previous Property Manager had come to the Castle some 4 months pregnant. She lived in an apartment at the top of the Castle which was made up of rooms which had been day nursery, night nursery, servants quarters, and a room called the panelled bedroom which had been the Seton's bedroom at one time. She felt that the castle did not accept her, and when she brought her baby son home from hospital, she always felt that the spirit of Lilias Drummond disliked her because she had born a son and Lilias had not been able to.
She had a physical problem with some doors – imagine a door out of a room into a corridor, and another door opposite into another room. At some time the corridor itself had been blocked off, leaving a short passage between 2 doors. With a baby in the apartment she always shut all the doors, and actually found herself numerous times in the passage bit with both doors locked to her i.e. she was locked in and could not open the doors to either room.
She had a modern electric sewing machine in one of the rooms that had been a nursery, and it turned itself on – you could see the foot pedal being depressed and it whirred away all by itself.
Robert experienced the door problem once – he went to open one of the doors in the apartment and got it open only a little way – he could not open it further and it felt like someone was actively trying to push it shut. He went away and came back a short time later when he was able to open the door normally.
As Property Manager he has no choice but to live on the job. He started shortly before the 250th anniversary of the first sighting of the Green Ladye (which is widely interpreted as Lilias Drummond) in Oct – that is when the Earl of Dunfermline (Alexander Seton) re-married. For the first few months he noticed that things kept moving – an extremely neat and tidy person, with a passion for antiques quite in keeping with the castle at large, he liked everything placed with symmetry. For example, he would have an antique jug on a tray centred on a side table, and some mornings it would have been moved right to the edge of the table.
One of those mornings in Oct as he was coming from the bedrooms towards the dining room he could see a light on. This was weird because, as Property Manager, and with fears of fire always present, he ensured every light was off before retiring each night. As he came into the dining room he saw the main ceiling light was on (and he NEVER used it because he didn't like it – preferring table lamps) - all the chairs around the dining room table had been moved out and mis-aligned, and the drawers in both sideboards had been opened. He first thought 'burglary' but then realised that this was impossible because the whole castle was alarmed. He feels that something was making a point.
In his kitchen – a thoroughly modern one with chrome mixer taps on the sink, the hot tap turns on with an audible click. This happens by itself when, although Robert is in the room, he is nowhere near it.
His hi-fi unit turns itself on and off all by itself too. The manufacturer offered to change it even though they had never had the problem before.
All these things come in spates – things will go quiet for months and nothing is seen or heard and then it flares up again - October is a favourite month.
One evening Robert was with a friend in the apartment's dining room and one of them was looking at a music score – he asked for more light so Robert turned on the 4th table lamp (3 were already on). He then went out of the room to get himself a drink and on returning a short while later, noticed that the lamp he had turned on was now off. His friend had left the room, and Robert thought the bulb had blown. But when he went to take it out to replace it there was no bulb there. He thought his friend was playing a game but when the friend came back he swore it was not him. The morning after, the bulbs were missing from all 4 table lamps and they were never found.
When TV crews have filmed at various times they have all had massive power-drain problems. In the programme 'I'm Famous and I'm Frightened' the power drain and lights getting very dim seen on live TV was not a 'fix'. In one radio interview, the interviewer got through 6 power packs just to record one short piece.
Two friends were staying overnight with Robert and had retired to bed. The lady woke up and saw someone going out of the room. She screamed, woke her husband (and Robert) and spent the rest of the night in a very agitated state. In the morning they asked about the ghost stories and had not heard about the Green Ladye. But when Robert got to the bit about the lingering scent of Attar of Roses or something similar and floral, the husband dropped his toast because that is exactly what he could smell in the room when rudely awoken.
Another couple – Ian and Lyla Powrie – were attending a function and Lyla was sitting by the fireplace in the Gallery but getting extremely agitated – eventually she had to go outside and would not go back in even to get her coat. The next morning (they were staying with friends nearby) they heard the story of the Green Ladye and Lilias Drummond. Lyla's full name before she got married was Lilias Drummond.
You can feel the quiet in the castle and can feel something more – maybe spirits from the past - when the castle is quiet. When it is busy you don't notice it so much (but in some areas it is noticeable all the time – I found it in the Gordon Dressing Room – the 'ghost room' and the Charter Room. Funnily enough I noticed nothing odd about the 'murder room'.)
A nanny to the Forbes-Leith children during 1930's, 1940's and 1950's remembered staff seeing and hearing things. The old Staff quarters (and they had been staff quarters for centuries) had a very sad feel - as if bad things had happened there. An example quoted was in times gone by a Laird may have taken a fancy to a maid and visited her in the staff quarters – she would have had no options in the matter, which today would be considered rape.
Janis – worked at Fyvie Castle 1994 to 2005:
'I first started working at Fyvie Castle in April 1994, but my first ever experience was in October of that year.
'At that time the castle was only open on Saturday/Sunday in October, and it was a tradition to have floral displays at the weekends, usually prepared by local amateur florists. One weekend however, no one turned up so the Property Manager at the time arranged for flowers to be delivered and asked if some of the castle guides could help out making up displays.
'The Gordon bedroom was my favourite room so I volunteered to create the display for that room. I opened the bedroom shutters and then went down to the entrance hall to select some flowers in blues/pinks/creams. Unfortunately there were no suitable flowers, so I decided to create a display for another room.
'We had started the flower arranging at about 4pm when it was still light, but by the time we had finished everything at was about 11pm. I suddenly remembered that I had left the shutters open in the Gordon bedroom, so went up to close them. The door from the wheel stairway to the bedroom corridor was shut, so I opened it and entered the corridor. The door closed behind me leaving me in darkness. I fumbled for the light switch but could not find it, so I moved with speed down the corridor and into the bedroom, which was also in darkness. By this time I was unsettled and could not find the light switch there either.
'There are 2 windows in the Gordon bedroom, and in between them was a mirror. I closed the left hand shutters, and as I did I felt a cold breeze on the back of my neck. I felt sure that there was someone was on the bed behind me. Not daring to look, I moved across the room to close the right hand shutters. I could not look into the mirror for fear of seeing someone else and not me.
'By the time I had started to close the right hand shutters the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I was extremely cold. I slammed the shutters hard and caught my fingers in them, then ran through the doorway pulling the bedroom door up behind me and ran as fast as I could down the dark corridor.
'When I met up with the other 2 guides that had been working on displays, they said I looked as if I had seen a ghost.
'Suddenly, two of the thimbles literally bounced out of the basket and smashed into many tiny pieces on the floor. The visitor was startled and immediately said "I didn't do that". I agreed with her as I had seen the thimbles 'fly out' of their own accord. The visitor left the shop very quickly.
'I mentioned that the thimbles had smashed into pieces – this is surprising as although they are china, they do not break or chip when dropped. I have dropped some myself when re-stocking and they bounce, even on the wooden floor of the shop. I have demonstrated this to interested people in the shop by dropping them from a height, and they simply do not break or chip. The ones that smashed must have been thrown with great force.
'Another experience in the shop was of things being moved overnight. I had checked the shelves for stock level and tidiness before leaving for the night, but on opening up the shop the next morning I knew something strange had happened. Straight ahead of me, the shelf on which I displayed the Spode pottery was completely empty. When I looked along the unit to the display of Tain pottery, there, all higgledy-piggledy, were the Spode pottery mugs and cups.
'I asked our cleaner if she had moved them and she was adamant that she had not. She left the dusting to me in case she had an accident and broke something.
Note: the Castle Gift Shop is located where the Castle kitchens once were, on the ground floor close to the Preston Tower.
'We met up at approximately 10.30pm. Originally there were 3 of us but one had to leave at midnight. All three of us walked from room to room and felt nothing. At midnight the two of us left decided to do another walk around but this time without the lights on. We noticed a smell of roses and experienced some cold spots, but we had a really scary experience in the Library.
'We sat by the books in the dark, and waited - it was extremely cold and quiet. Suddenly we heard scratching in the corner of the room. We shone our torches towards the sound and also where a temperature monitoring machine was kept. Its needle was scratching a straight line and then dropped dramatically, signalling that the room was very, very cold. We didn't need a machine to tell us that.
'When we turned our torches off again. We heard voices directly above us. This was disturbing, as we knew we were the only ones in the Castle. We could pinpoint that the voices were of a man and a woman. The man was shouting loudly and every now and then a faint woman's voice replied. We could not however, make out what was being said. As the voices got louder and louder we fled the Library for good.
'At the end of the evening – a rather late 1am as it had been a very popular event – Robert (the Property Manager) asked me to close up the bedrooms and bedroom corridor. By this time I felt quite happy in all of the rooms, including the Gordon bedroom. As I closed the door of that room I said out loud 'bye Lilias' and walked down the corridor.
'The next day, while driving to Aberdeen, my mobile phone rang. On parking my car I checked the phone and the caller had been 'Fyvie Castle'. I phoned back and it rang for ages, then Robert answered it. I said 'you wanted me Robert?' but he said he didn't – he had been on his way downstairs when he heard the phone ringing, and rushed to answer it. I said that my mobile had rung, but he said it wasn't him and he was entirely alone in the Castle at the time. The phone from which the call had been made was in the office which he had had to unlock to answer my call.
'My verdict – Lilias was saying goodbye to me in response to my farewell to her the night before.
'I first started working at Fyvie Castle in April 1994, but my first ever experience was in October of that year.
'At that time the castle was only open on Saturday/Sunday in October, and it was a tradition to have floral displays at the weekends, usually prepared by local amateur florists. One weekend however, no one turned up so the Property Manager at the time arranged for flowers to be delivered and asked if some of the castle guides could help out making up displays.
'The Gordon bedroom was my favourite room so I volunteered to create the display for that room. I opened the bedroom shutters and then went down to the entrance hall to select some flowers in blues/pinks/creams. Unfortunately there were no suitable flowers, so I decided to create a display for another room.
'We had started the flower arranging at about 4pm when it was still light, but by the time we had finished everything at was about 11pm. I suddenly remembered that I had left the shutters open in the Gordon bedroom, so went up to close them. The door from the wheel stairway to the bedroom corridor was shut, so I opened it and entered the corridor. The door closed behind me leaving me in darkness. I fumbled for the light switch but could not find it, so I moved with speed down the corridor and into the bedroom, which was also in darkness. By this time I was unsettled and could not find the light switch there either.
'There are 2 windows in the Gordon bedroom, and in between them was a mirror. I closed the left hand shutters, and as I did I felt a cold breeze on the back of my neck. I felt sure that there was someone was on the bed behind me. Not daring to look, I moved across the room to close the right hand shutters. I could not look into the mirror for fear of seeing someone else and not me.
'By the time I had started to close the right hand shutters the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I was extremely cold. I slammed the shutters hard and caught my fingers in them, then ran through the doorway pulling the bedroom door up behind me and ran as fast as I could down the dark corridor.
'When I met up with the other 2 guides that had been working on displays, they said I looked as if I had seen a ghost.
* * *
'When running the Castle Gift Shop, I had an experience which was visible. The shop sells china thimbles with a picture of Fyvie Castle on them, and they were displayed in small wicker baskets. On the day in question the display was fairly low, and I was waiting for a visitor to leave the shop so I could stock up. The thimbles were on a shelf directly in front of me but across the room, and the visitor was on my right.'Suddenly, two of the thimbles literally bounced out of the basket and smashed into many tiny pieces on the floor. The visitor was startled and immediately said "I didn't do that". I agreed with her as I had seen the thimbles 'fly out' of their own accord. The visitor left the shop very quickly.
'I mentioned that the thimbles had smashed into pieces – this is surprising as although they are china, they do not break or chip when dropped. I have dropped some myself when re-stocking and they bounce, even on the wooden floor of the shop. I have demonstrated this to interested people in the shop by dropping them from a height, and they simply do not break or chip. The ones that smashed must have been thrown with great force.
'Another experience in the shop was of things being moved overnight. I had checked the shelves for stock level and tidiness before leaving for the night, but on opening up the shop the next morning I knew something strange had happened. Straight ahead of me, the shelf on which I displayed the Spode pottery was completely empty. When I looked along the unit to the display of Tain pottery, there, all higgledy-piggledy, were the Spode pottery mugs and cups.
'I asked our cleaner if she had moved them and she was adamant that she had not. She left the dusting to me in case she had an accident and broke something.
Note: the Castle Gift Shop is located where the Castle kitchens once were, on the ground floor close to the Preston Tower.
* * *
'A Custodian of the Castle and I wanted to stay the night over Halloween, but I suggested that it would be better if we did it on 27th October – that was the date that the apparition purported to be Lilias Drummond first appeared at the Castle.'We met up at approximately 10.30pm. Originally there were 3 of us but one had to leave at midnight. All three of us walked from room to room and felt nothing. At midnight the two of us left decided to do another walk around but this time without the lights on. We noticed a smell of roses and experienced some cold spots, but we had a really scary experience in the Library.
'We sat by the books in the dark, and waited - it was extremely cold and quiet. Suddenly we heard scratching in the corner of the room. We shone our torches towards the sound and also where a temperature monitoring machine was kept. Its needle was scratching a straight line and then dropped dramatically, signalling that the room was very, very cold. We didn't need a machine to tell us that.
'When we turned our torches off again. We heard voices directly above us. This was disturbing, as we knew we were the only ones in the Castle. We could pinpoint that the voices were of a man and a woman. The man was shouting loudly and every now and then a faint woman's voice replied. We could not however, make out what was being said. As the voices got louder and louder we fled the Library for good.
* * *
'I had decided not to return to Fyvie Castle for the 2006 season, so my last job was to assist at a 'Ghost Evening' in October 2005, which many members of the public attended.'At the end of the evening – a rather late 1am as it had been a very popular event – Robert (the Property Manager) asked me to close up the bedrooms and bedroom corridor. By this time I felt quite happy in all of the rooms, including the Gordon bedroom. As I closed the door of that room I said out loud 'bye Lilias' and walked down the corridor.
'The next day, while driving to Aberdeen, my mobile phone rang. On parking my car I checked the phone and the caller had been 'Fyvie Castle'. I phoned back and it rang for ages, then Robert answered it. I said 'you wanted me Robert?' but he said he didn't – he had been on his way downstairs when he heard the phone ringing, and rushed to answer it. I said that my mobile had rung, but he said it wasn't him and he was entirely alone in the Castle at the time. The phone from which the call had been made was in the office which he had had to unlock to answer my call.
'My verdict – Lilias was saying goodbye to me in response to my farewell to her the night before.
Sally – former Custodian of Fyvie Castle:
'On a dark November night in 2004 I had to go through the rooms and lock up the Castle before putting the alarms on.
'There's a route from the office, up the back spiral staircase and onto the bedroom corridor. When on my own my dog Skye always came with me - its good exercise for both of us!
'On this occasion I'd finished doing the blinds, shutters and lights in the Model Room (where Dame Lilias Drummonds name is etched upside down on the external windowsill) and turned to go up the corridor. I closed the bathroom door to my right and made my way into the Gordon Bedroom. Meantime Skye is sniffing happily about.
'I carried on with my locking up routine - closing the back Dressing room blinds, shutters and door, the bathroom door, then the blinds, shutters of the bedroom and exited the room. Coming out of the room I saw Skye shoot past me straight to the end of the corridor. He then turned and started growling and snapping. It was as if he had been electrified like a cat, fluffed out and hackles up, staring and growling seemingly at something behind me. At that point I could swear I smelt something sweet and floral wafting in the air.
'Needless to say I did not look behind me but walked, very quickly, closing the remaining blinds, shutters, and doors, switching off lights to reach the end of the corridor. It wasn't until I'd got to the end of the corridor where it takes you to the Gallery, turned the last light off and shut the door that we both relaxed and continued on with our rounds..
'On this occasion coming into the Courtyard itself I had the feeling (not unpleasant) that we weren't on our own. Bearing in mind the fact that the Courtyard has excellent acoustics I didn't think much of additional footsteps as we gravel-crunched our way around and down towards the American Garden gates, it was merely echoes. However, when we cut across the lawn, so did the crunching footsteps, which continued to follow us right up to the Yett (the old main entrance to the Castle). When we went past the Yett and on towards the tearoom, the footsteps turned right and went "into" the Yett door.
'I later found out that the Yett entrance originally went into the Courtyard area where troops exercised..... Could this have been a parade from yesteryear?
'There is also a banging door that no one can find. We know its above the office but can't locate it at all. Most irritating.
'As my eyes adjusted I started to giggle. Staying in the Preston Tower (the holiday apartment) for the weekend was a party of guys on a stag night outing who had obviously had one lemonade too many and had dared each other to run, naked, from the Preston Tower door, around the Courtyard and back, and were having great fun - albeit at the detriment of my sleep. So what to do? Set the dog on them? I did the only thing that could be done, put the floodlights on and watched 8 white bottoms streak from the Courtyard to the Preston apartment door. Bang! Silence.
'Interestingly when they left the next day I asked them how was their stay? Did they sleep ok? Amazingly enough they had all had a remarkable nights sleep ....hmmmmmmm.
'On a dark November night in 2004 I had to go through the rooms and lock up the Castle before putting the alarms on.
'There's a route from the office, up the back spiral staircase and onto the bedroom corridor. When on my own my dog Skye always came with me - its good exercise for both of us!
'On this occasion I'd finished doing the blinds, shutters and lights in the Model Room (where Dame Lilias Drummonds name is etched upside down on the external windowsill) and turned to go up the corridor. I closed the bathroom door to my right and made my way into the Gordon Bedroom. Meantime Skye is sniffing happily about.
'I carried on with my locking up routine - closing the back Dressing room blinds, shutters and door, the bathroom door, then the blinds, shutters of the bedroom and exited the room. Coming out of the room I saw Skye shoot past me straight to the end of the corridor. He then turned and started growling and snapping. It was as if he had been electrified like a cat, fluffed out and hackles up, staring and growling seemingly at something behind me. At that point I could swear I smelt something sweet and floral wafting in the air.
'Needless to say I did not look behind me but walked, very quickly, closing the remaining blinds, shutters, and doors, switching off lights to reach the end of the corridor. It wasn't until I'd got to the end of the corridor where it takes you to the Gallery, turned the last light off and shut the door that we both relaxed and continued on with our rounds..
* * *
'Having the pleasure of living on site - and Fyvie being within some stunning grounds, I was walking my dog on an early summer's evening. My normal evening ramble with the dog was out round past the Castle kitchen, and onwards to the front doors, then follow the path round the Courtyard bringing us back the way we'd been. Normally this was the route but Skye, decided to add variety to his evening walk (or was being lazy), and cut across the lawn to take us back onto the path we'd been on.'On this occasion coming into the Courtyard itself I had the feeling (not unpleasant) that we weren't on our own. Bearing in mind the fact that the Courtyard has excellent acoustics I didn't think much of additional footsteps as we gravel-crunched our way around and down towards the American Garden gates, it was merely echoes. However, when we cut across the lawn, so did the crunching footsteps, which continued to follow us right up to the Yett (the old main entrance to the Castle). When we went past the Yett and on towards the tearoom, the footsteps turned right and went "into" the Yett door.
'I later found out that the Yett entrance originally went into the Courtyard area where troops exercised..... Could this have been a parade from yesteryear?
* * *
'Footsteps can be heard many a time through the building. Lots of times I will have been working in the office which is located near the Yett and heard footsteps in the corridor, usually coming towards the office - but there is never anyone there. 'There is also a banging door that no one can find. We know its above the office but can't locate it at all. Most irritating.
* * *
'The funniest occasion I've had is having gone to bed at some early morning hour following a function, and being woken up by a noise in the courtyard area. Fearing the worst, stripy jumper-clad miscreants and their swag bags attempting to abduct a valuable painting, I looked out of my bedroom window onto the courtyard. In the pale moonlight I could make out some white shapes moving at great speed around the centre pedestal (an enormous marble 'flower pot' that stands over the entrance to the original castle well) . Curiosity got the better of me, so I took the alarms offline, woke up the dog and proceeded through the Castle in the dark to the Front Entrance hall to peer more closely at these "apparitions". 'As my eyes adjusted I started to giggle. Staying in the Preston Tower (the holiday apartment) for the weekend was a party of guys on a stag night outing who had obviously had one lemonade too many and had dared each other to run, naked, from the Preston Tower door, around the Courtyard and back, and were having great fun - albeit at the detriment of my sleep. So what to do? Set the dog on them? I did the only thing that could be done, put the floodlights on and watched 8 white bottoms streak from the Courtyard to the Preston apartment door. Bang! Silence.
'Interestingly when they left the next day I asked them how was their stay? Did they sleep ok? Amazingly enough they had all had a remarkable nights sleep ....hmmmmmmm.
Other Modern Stories
One of the Castle Guides was going along a corridor and stepped aside to let someone out of a door. It was an automatic reaction done without thinking, and there was no one there. There was a strong smell Attar of Roses afterwards. This was experienced by a complete cynic who just cannot explain it away.
A visitor to the Castle went into the Drummond room on her own, and had hysterics – she said she saw someone else in the dressing table mirrow - and she was the only one in the room. The poor lady took a lot of calming down.
In the corridor outside the Property Manager's office on the ground floor, several people have heard footsteps and voices talking a language that is not immediately recognised – thought to be old Scots. There was never anyone in the corridor when they checked.
Some hear the crying of a baby in the Morning Room and some can hear it echoing down the stairs. When the renovations were being carried out by Alexander Forbes-Leith (made Lord Leith of Fyvie in 1901) an attempt was made to locate a chimney in the Morning Room, in a recess where tradition indicated there had once stood the altar of a chapel. The remains of a child were discovered in this blocked up fireplace. They stirred speculation of a long ago tragedy – was some crime committed against the innocent little victim – an unwanted daughter, an inconvenient heir? We will never know.
The ghost of a cat has been seen when going down the stairs to the basement. People have also seen a cat ghost in the Preston Tower apartment used for holiday accommodation.
One of the Castle Guides was going along a corridor and stepped aside to let someone out of a door. It was an automatic reaction done without thinking, and there was no one there. There was a strong smell Attar of Roses afterwards. This was experienced by a complete cynic who just cannot explain it away.
A visitor to the Castle went into the Drummond room on her own, and had hysterics – she said she saw someone else in the dressing table mirrow - and she was the only one in the room. The poor lady took a lot of calming down.
In the corridor outside the Property Manager's office on the ground floor, several people have heard footsteps and voices talking a language that is not immediately recognised – thought to be old Scots. There was never anyone in the corridor when they checked.
Some hear the crying of a baby in the Morning Room and some can hear it echoing down the stairs. When the renovations were being carried out by Alexander Forbes-Leith (made Lord Leith of Fyvie in 1901) an attempt was made to locate a chimney in the Morning Room, in a recess where tradition indicated there had once stood the altar of a chapel. The remains of a child were discovered in this blocked up fireplace. They stirred speculation of a long ago tragedy – was some crime committed against the innocent little victim – an unwanted daughter, an inconvenient heir? We will never know.
The ghost of a cat has been seen when going down the stairs to the basement. People have also seen a cat ghost in the Preston Tower apartment used for holiday accommodation.
Lilias' testament (a form of will) is dated 1609 not 1601. I have viewed a copy of this but cannot interpret the old Scots language. The date being 1609 not 1601 is interesting but not unusual – the Scotland's People website explains:
The testament testamentar applied when the deceased died testate (leaving a will). It comprised four parts: the introductory clause, an inventory of the deceased's possessions (see below), the confirmation clause and a copy of the will, stating the wishes of the deceased regarding the disposal of the estate and naming the executor (usually a family member) he or she had chosen to undertake this task. If a copy of the will was not included, reference was made to it having been recorded elsewhere, probably in the court's Registers of Deeds.
The testament dative was drawn up by the court if a person died intestate (without leaving a will), in order to appoint and confirm the executor on their behalf. It comprised three parts: the introductory clause, an inventory of the deceased's possessions, and the confirmation clause. The testament dative might name a family member as executor, but if the deceased died in debt, a creditor might be appointed as executor instead. In such cases, the testament would include a list of the deceased's debts and would exist solely for the purpose of authorising the discharge of those debts.
It is quite possible and acceptable that Lilias died without leaving a will , in 1601, and the testament regarding her assets could have taken until 1609 to complete.
The window in the Gordon Dressing Room - which is barred - overlooks the garden and attracts most visitors who go straight to it. It is said that when Lilias was locked up she spent all her time staring out of this window.
When the TV programme 'I'm Famous and I'm Frightened' was filmed there were cables snaking everywhere. In the Charter Room it is usually very cold (I agree) but in this case it was roasting hot. Two people on duty carefully checked everything but could find no reason for the heat (the spectre of fire is always close because of the valuables in the Castle).
While the BBC were filming a children's ghost story for Halloween they had a programmed console for the lighting and only one guy knew how to program it. Returning for the 2nd day's filming he found the console completely re-programmed and it took him ages to get it all back right again. It was absolutely impossible for anyone else to have a) got near this console overnight and b) program it.
Wills & Testaments
If a person wished to settle his or her affairs before death, they drew up a will, which set down their instructions as to the disposal of their possessions and named the executor whom they wished to administer the estate. The executor had to be confirmed by the court and the document drawn up by the court for this purpose is known as a testament. There are two types of testaments: the testament testamentar and testament dative.The testament testamentar applied when the deceased died testate (leaving a will). It comprised four parts: the introductory clause, an inventory of the deceased's possessions (see below), the confirmation clause and a copy of the will, stating the wishes of the deceased regarding the disposal of the estate and naming the executor (usually a family member) he or she had chosen to undertake this task. If a copy of the will was not included, reference was made to it having been recorded elsewhere, probably in the court's Registers of Deeds.
The testament dative was drawn up by the court if a person died intestate (without leaving a will), in order to appoint and confirm the executor on their behalf. It comprised three parts: the introductory clause, an inventory of the deceased's possessions, and the confirmation clause. The testament dative might name a family member as executor, but if the deceased died in debt, a creditor might be appointed as executor instead. In such cases, the testament would include a list of the deceased's debts and would exist solely for the purpose of authorising the discharge of those debts.
It is quite possible and acceptable that Lilias died without leaving a will , in 1601, and the testament regarding her assets could have taken until 1609 to complete.
The window in the Gordon Dressing Room - which is barred - overlooks the garden and attracts most visitors who go straight to it. It is said that when Lilias was locked up she spent all her time staring out of this window.
When the TV programme 'I'm Famous and I'm Frightened' was filmed there were cables snaking everywhere. In the Charter Room it is usually very cold (I agree) but in this case it was roasting hot. Two people on duty carefully checked everything but could find no reason for the heat (the spectre of fire is always close because of the valuables in the Castle).
While the BBC were filming a children's ghost story for Halloween they had a programmed console for the lighting and only one guy knew how to program it. Returning for the 2nd day's filming he found the console completely re-programmed and it took him ages to get it all back right again. It was absolutely impossible for anyone else to have a) got near this console overnight and b) program it.
The Meldrum Tower haunted rooms
The Gordon Dressing Room is the 2nd window up on the left hand tower shown here.
The Charter Room is directly below it on the 1st floor. It has bars at the window.
The Secret Chamber is at the base of the tower and no one now knows how to get into it.
The Charter Room is directly below it on the 1st floor. It has bars at the window.
The Secret Chamber is at the base of the tower and no one now knows how to get into it.
Isobel Black – today and in history:
A lady in white 'crinoline style' dress has been seen in the grounds between the staff car park and office door. A local fisherman who had permission to fish the Ythan by the Castle saw the lady too very early one morning, and has never come back. This apparition is purported to be Bel Black, the eventual wife of General The Honourable William Gordon:
Archie Gordon, 5th Marquess of Aberdeen, says in his 1985 book that Isobel Black was a maid at the Castle, and caught the eye of General Gordon. She had a son by him, was consigned to a 'one of the miserable hovels that lined Fyvie village', disowned by her family, and was reduced to spinning wool to provide for herself and her son – the General had taken himself off to Ireland with his regiment. Subsequently the son was presented to his father who, liking his intelligence and looks, decided to bring him up at the Castle and as a gentleman. At a date unknown, with his son William now an adult, General Gordon married the boy's mother and installed her in modest rooms high up in an unimportant part of the vast dwelling, whence she performed the duties of housekeeper, unpaid but kept in comfort and suitably fine clothing.
Mrs Stirling's version of events from her research corroborates this:
'Isobel Black was a servant at Fyvie Castle. In 1776 she bore the Laird a son, and was subsequently scorned alike by her own people and his. However, time is a great healer, and in his old age the Laird wedded her, and she seems to have won the respect of all who had scorned her. In her last years she went blind, and some said this was linked to the curse of Fyvie – shortly before his death William had made an attempt to open the secret chamber – she had paid the price by going blind as the curse foretold. Isobel died at the age of eighty on June 3rd 1824.
There was a portrait of Mrs Gordon documented as being in existence in the Castle in 1889, and in a 1990 survey for insurance, the same portrait was itemised as being 'at the restorers'. All attempts to find this portrait had come to nothing in 2006 – everyone thought it had vanished.
A lady in white 'crinoline style' dress has been seen in the grounds between the staff car park and office door. A local fisherman who had permission to fish the Ythan by the Castle saw the lady too very early one morning, and has never come back. This apparition is purported to be Bel Black, the eventual wife of General The Honourable William Gordon:
Archie Gordon, 5th Marquess of Aberdeen, says in his 1985 book that Isobel Black was a maid at the Castle, and caught the eye of General Gordon. She had a son by him, was consigned to a 'one of the miserable hovels that lined Fyvie village', disowned by her family, and was reduced to spinning wool to provide for herself and her son – the General had taken himself off to Ireland with his regiment. Subsequently the son was presented to his father who, liking his intelligence and looks, decided to bring him up at the Castle and as a gentleman. At a date unknown, with his son William now an adult, General Gordon married the boy's mother and installed her in modest rooms high up in an unimportant part of the vast dwelling, whence she performed the duties of housekeeper, unpaid but kept in comfort and suitably fine clothing.
Mrs Stirling's version of events from her research corroborates this:
'Isobel Black was a servant at Fyvie Castle. In 1776 she bore the Laird a son, and was subsequently scorned alike by her own people and his. However, time is a great healer, and in his old age the Laird wedded her, and she seems to have won the respect of all who had scorned her. In her last years she went blind, and some said this was linked to the curse of Fyvie – shortly before his death William had made an attempt to open the secret chamber – she had paid the price by going blind as the curse foretold. Isobel died at the age of eighty on June 3rd 1824.
There was a portrait of Mrs Gordon documented as being in existence in the Castle in 1889, and in a 1990 survey for insurance, the same portrait was itemised as being 'at the restorers'. All attempts to find this portrait had come to nothing in 2006 – everyone thought it had vanished.
I have however, now found a picture of it through the Internet and here she is as an old lady.
One of the houses she is said to have lived in does have paranormal activity, and it is said that Belle had a notorious temper.
Isobel Black's son:
William Gordon was born in 1776 and became Laird of Fyvie in 1816 at the age of 40. It has been reported down through history from various sources that he dabbled in black magic. He used to visit Fyvie School and after these visits 'funny' things happened. The Schoolmaster took advice and was told that to make the 'evil' go away he had to bury a child under the floorboards. He said he could not bury a child but buried his cat under the boards instead. An interesting tale, especially in the light of the reports of a ghost cat appearing in the Castle!
One of the houses she is said to have lived in does have paranormal activity, and it is said that Belle had a notorious temper.
Isobel Black's son:
William Gordon was born in 1776 and became Laird of Fyvie in 1816 at the age of 40. It has been reported down through history from various sources that he dabbled in black magic. He used to visit Fyvie School and after these visits 'funny' things happened. The Schoolmaster took advice and was told that to make the 'evil' go away he had to bury a child under the floorboards. He said he could not bury a child but buried his cat under the boards instead. An interesting tale, especially in the light of the reports of a ghost cat appearing in the Castle!
The Green Ladye again
In the 1800's, the bare rambling rooms and passageways of the Castle would have been poorly lit by lamps or flickering candles, creating a shadowy elusive atmosphere. The great stone stairway with its haunting legends, the long stone corridors where echo multiplied each footstep, were, after dark, shrouded in a mysterious gloom full of eerie suggestion. The creaking chimney-vanes on a stormy night made noises that would fill the stoutest heart with fear. For a long time, ghostly groans heard between the Gordon and Meldrum Towers were attributed to supernatural origin – until the discovery that the pumping ram for water caused a peculiar vibration along the pipes, which accounted for the noises.
But there were other tales less easy to explain away – of the Laird being shaken out of bed at night by unseen visitors; of a wind that arose indoors on windless nights and blew the coverings off sleeping guests; of a lady staying at the Castle, in the 'ghost room' being startled by a heavy heart-broken sigh and who ran to look into the corridor to see who it was, only to find no one there. Again it was said that another lady, going upstairs to bed, in a room near the 'ghost room', heard stealthy footsteps behind her and suddenly her candle went out. When she turned to remonstrate with the supposed perpetrator of a silly joke, she found herself completely alone on the great staircase.
Another story from the mid 1800's is that Alick Gordon and a friend, when they were lads, decided to hang towels out of every window in the Castle to see if there were any hidden rooms. They waited until everyone else in the Castle had gone on a picnic and then got the housekeeper to go though all the rooms with them, hanging a towel from each window; but when they went outside to check, they found five windows with no towel. Three of these were later accounted for, but two could never be traced, leading to the conclusion that these rooms had no access from within the Castle.
The belief prevailed at the time (why, we don't know), that the legendary Ladye of Fyvie was visible only to one of Gordon blood, and a tale exists illustrating this:
A wife of one of the Deputy-Sheriffs of Aberdeen came to stay at the Castle, and brought with her a maid called Thompson. This maid innocently reported that she had seen a lady in a lovely green dress going up the principal staircase at night. When this was repeated at the breakfast table, everyone present disclaimed being the owner of a green dress, until somebody tactlessly remarked that it must have been the Green Ladye of Fyvie – but that she never appeared except to a Gordon. The lady from Aberdeen looked startled, and replied that, although she called always called her maid Thompson whoever she might be, her current maid's real name was Gordon!
Other historical stories abound about the Green Ladye, who seems to be a pretty solid apparition – in the past people have stepped aside to let her pass on the stairway, never thinking that what they were seeing was anything other than a guest.
It was a favourite superstition that the Ladye invariably appeared before the death of the reigning Laird, and Alick Gordon himself seems to have experienced this. In 1879, when his brother Cosmo lay ill, Alick was coming along the passage leading from the Gordon bedroom to the great staircase, when suddenly in the dim December afternoon he saw before him, barring his way, the Green Ladye, faintly iridescent in the waning light. As she looked at him she slowly dropped a curtsey, then drifted away into the darkness of the corridor. And Alick Gordon, white faced and unnerved, rushed into the room where his wife sat sewing, and told her what he had just seen – that the Green Ladye had hailed him as the head of the house, and that meant that Cosmo would die. He died shortly thereafter.
During the First World War, Lady Burn (Lord Leith's daughter), generously ran a private hospital for the wounded, in which she took an active part herself. Towards the ends of the war, one of her former patients was invited to visit Fyvie during his convalescence. He was a Canadian mining engineer, a hard-headed, shrewd materialist, who had no belief in anything supernatural, and had a profound contempt for credulity. He had never heard any of the legends of Fyvie, and would have poured scorn on them if he had. On arrival at Fyvie he was shown to his room, the Gordon dressing room.
It was remarked after the event that, on the first night of his visit this man was full of talk and enjoyment, the second night he looked pre-occupied, the third he was noticeably silent, and during the remainder of his visit he seemed obviously ill or distraught.
On the last night before his departure, he spoke to another man who was also staying at the Castle. He asked him to stay behind when the rest of the party had gone off to bed, as there was something he wanted to discuss. As soon as the two men were alone together, the Canadian revealed the cause of his discomfort.
'If anyone had told me before I came here that there were such things as ghosts,' he said, 'or anything supernatural, I would have looked upon that man as an errant fool, and declined to believe a word he said. Yet I can only tell you what has happened to me here. The first night, tired with my journey, I fell into a heavy sleep. I cannot say what the time was, but some hours later I awoke with a sudden start, and a conviction that someone was in my room. The room was lit up, but there was no one to be seen; and finding that I had, as I thought, left the electric light on, I got out of bed to turn it off. But, so doing, to my amazement, found that I had turned it on! I extinguished it once more, but the light remained. The room was illuminated from some other cause, and as I watched, the light got gradually brighter. It was like little flames playing around the pictures, and I could see the colours of the pictures quite distinctly!
'Since then, the same thing has happened every night. I fall asleep tired out, and awake to the same experience. All the time I feel that there is something in the room – something I want to hit – but I can see no one, only this mysterious light which gets brighter as time goes on. I simply daren't go to bed.'
The two men discussed the situation, trying to discover some rational explanation. At last, they parted for bed but the Canadian was told by his confidante that if he was really alarmed during the night, he was to come and get him. In the morning, the Canadian had left – and his confidante had dreamt that he had been called upon but was unable get out of bed to go to the frightened man's rescue.
Lord Leith, on hearing why his guest had suddenly departed, was extremely interested. He knew his brother had seen odd things in that room and had refused to ever sleep there again; he himself had seen it, and even had the matter investigated scientifically, but no explanation had ever been found.
In 1906 the portrait of the Green Ladye, said to be the harbinger of the strange goings-on in the Castle, was restored by Lord Leith to her former position outside the room where she is said to have suffered and died. It had been removed by a former laird and sold to a Dr Milne. On his death, his son and daughter returned the picture to Lord Leith with the remark 'there is only one fitting place for this – back on the walls of Fyvie Castle.' In 1928 it was reported that this portrait was painted in 1676 and bore only a fanciful resemblance to the young Lady Lilias Drummond. It was also painted some 75 years after Lady Lilias died. It does however, have an elusive quality which may explain the fascination that it has exercised over generations. Interestingly, she is clad in blue rather than green, and remains unidentified to this day.
This portrait has simply vanished – it was in existence at the Castle in 1928, when the above description was made, but all attempts to track it down have failed. In the report above it also implies that there was in existence a different portrait of the young Lady Lilias but again, it has been impossible to track it down through organisations like the National Portrait Gallery.
In the 1800's, the bare rambling rooms and passageways of the Castle would have been poorly lit by lamps or flickering candles, creating a shadowy elusive atmosphere. The great stone stairway with its haunting legends, the long stone corridors where echo multiplied each footstep, were, after dark, shrouded in a mysterious gloom full of eerie suggestion. The creaking chimney-vanes on a stormy night made noises that would fill the stoutest heart with fear. For a long time, ghostly groans heard between the Gordon and Meldrum Towers were attributed to supernatural origin – until the discovery that the pumping ram for water caused a peculiar vibration along the pipes, which accounted for the noises.
But there were other tales less easy to explain away – of the Laird being shaken out of bed at night by unseen visitors; of a wind that arose indoors on windless nights and blew the coverings off sleeping guests; of a lady staying at the Castle, in the 'ghost room' being startled by a heavy heart-broken sigh and who ran to look into the corridor to see who it was, only to find no one there. Again it was said that another lady, going upstairs to bed, in a room near the 'ghost room', heard stealthy footsteps behind her and suddenly her candle went out. When she turned to remonstrate with the supposed perpetrator of a silly joke, she found herself completely alone on the great staircase.
Another story from the mid 1800's is that Alick Gordon and a friend, when they were lads, decided to hang towels out of every window in the Castle to see if there were any hidden rooms. They waited until everyone else in the Castle had gone on a picnic and then got the housekeeper to go though all the rooms with them, hanging a towel from each window; but when they went outside to check, they found five windows with no towel. Three of these were later accounted for, but two could never be traced, leading to the conclusion that these rooms had no access from within the Castle.
The belief prevailed at the time (why, we don't know), that the legendary Ladye of Fyvie was visible only to one of Gordon blood, and a tale exists illustrating this:
A wife of one of the Deputy-Sheriffs of Aberdeen came to stay at the Castle, and brought with her a maid called Thompson. This maid innocently reported that she had seen a lady in a lovely green dress going up the principal staircase at night. When this was repeated at the breakfast table, everyone present disclaimed being the owner of a green dress, until somebody tactlessly remarked that it must have been the Green Ladye of Fyvie – but that she never appeared except to a Gordon. The lady from Aberdeen looked startled, and replied that, although she called always called her maid Thompson whoever she might be, her current maid's real name was Gordon!
Other historical stories abound about the Green Ladye, who seems to be a pretty solid apparition – in the past people have stepped aside to let her pass on the stairway, never thinking that what they were seeing was anything other than a guest.
It was a favourite superstition that the Ladye invariably appeared before the death of the reigning Laird, and Alick Gordon himself seems to have experienced this. In 1879, when his brother Cosmo lay ill, Alick was coming along the passage leading from the Gordon bedroom to the great staircase, when suddenly in the dim December afternoon he saw before him, barring his way, the Green Ladye, faintly iridescent in the waning light. As she looked at him she slowly dropped a curtsey, then drifted away into the darkness of the corridor. And Alick Gordon, white faced and unnerved, rushed into the room where his wife sat sewing, and told her what he had just seen – that the Green Ladye had hailed him as the head of the house, and that meant that Cosmo would die. He died shortly thereafter.
During the First World War, Lady Burn (Lord Leith's daughter), generously ran a private hospital for the wounded, in which she took an active part herself. Towards the ends of the war, one of her former patients was invited to visit Fyvie during his convalescence. He was a Canadian mining engineer, a hard-headed, shrewd materialist, who had no belief in anything supernatural, and had a profound contempt for credulity. He had never heard any of the legends of Fyvie, and would have poured scorn on them if he had. On arrival at Fyvie he was shown to his room, the Gordon dressing room.
It was remarked after the event that, on the first night of his visit this man was full of talk and enjoyment, the second night he looked pre-occupied, the third he was noticeably silent, and during the remainder of his visit he seemed obviously ill or distraught.
On the last night before his departure, he spoke to another man who was also staying at the Castle. He asked him to stay behind when the rest of the party had gone off to bed, as there was something he wanted to discuss. As soon as the two men were alone together, the Canadian revealed the cause of his discomfort.
'If anyone had told me before I came here that there were such things as ghosts,' he said, 'or anything supernatural, I would have looked upon that man as an errant fool, and declined to believe a word he said. Yet I can only tell you what has happened to me here. The first night, tired with my journey, I fell into a heavy sleep. I cannot say what the time was, but some hours later I awoke with a sudden start, and a conviction that someone was in my room. The room was lit up, but there was no one to be seen; and finding that I had, as I thought, left the electric light on, I got out of bed to turn it off. But, so doing, to my amazement, found that I had turned it on! I extinguished it once more, but the light remained. The room was illuminated from some other cause, and as I watched, the light got gradually brighter. It was like little flames playing around the pictures, and I could see the colours of the pictures quite distinctly!
'Since then, the same thing has happened every night. I fall asleep tired out, and awake to the same experience. All the time I feel that there is something in the room – something I want to hit – but I can see no one, only this mysterious light which gets brighter as time goes on. I simply daren't go to bed.'
The two men discussed the situation, trying to discover some rational explanation. At last, they parted for bed but the Canadian was told by his confidante that if he was really alarmed during the night, he was to come and get him. In the morning, the Canadian had left – and his confidante had dreamt that he had been called upon but was unable get out of bed to go to the frightened man's rescue.
Lord Leith, on hearing why his guest had suddenly departed, was extremely interested. He knew his brother had seen odd things in that room and had refused to ever sleep there again; he himself had seen it, and even had the matter investigated scientifically, but no explanation had ever been found.
In 1906 the portrait of the Green Ladye, said to be the harbinger of the strange goings-on in the Castle, was restored by Lord Leith to her former position outside the room where she is said to have suffered and died. It had been removed by a former laird and sold to a Dr Milne. On his death, his son and daughter returned the picture to Lord Leith with the remark 'there is only one fitting place for this – back on the walls of Fyvie Castle.' In 1928 it was reported that this portrait was painted in 1676 and bore only a fanciful resemblance to the young Lady Lilias Drummond. It was also painted some 75 years after Lady Lilias died. It does however, have an elusive quality which may explain the fascination that it has exercised over generations. Interestingly, she is clad in blue rather than green, and remains unidentified to this day.
This portrait has simply vanished – it was in existence at the Castle in 1928, when the above description was made, but all attempts to track it down have failed. In the report above it also implies that there was in existence a different portrait of the young Lady Lilias but again, it has been impossible to track it down through organisations like the National Portrait Gallery.
A photo of the missing portrait taken in 1928
The Secret Chamber
There had always been curiosity about the 'secret chamber' at the base of the Meldrum Tower, and in 1885 Sir Maurice Duff-Gordon removed the safe which stood in a recess in the wall in the Charter Room, and began to open up the stairway that his sister had discovered (she had visited the Castle in 1884 and had spent a lot of time in that room going through the Castle charters). He had great difficulty getting any workers to undertake the job – there were tales of evil and the 'black vomit' (plague) - and the ones that he succeeded in obtaining were definitely not locals. One of the masons who was present when the opening was made, told that in the thickness of the wall that they struggled to bore through, they found a human skeleton bricked up. However, the excavation work had only been going on a few days when Sir Maurice had a fall in the drawing room and broke his leg. His wife then insisted that he stop the investigation.
Subsequently, she suffered with her eyesight, and the old prediction that foretold that the wife of any Laird that tried to break into the secret chamber would go blind, alarmed her. She actually consulted a famous clairvoyant of the day in what she thought would be a safe way to ascertain the contents of the secret chamber, but her ideas about priceless treasure were destined to be dashed – the clairvoyant told her that there was nothing in the chamber but dust and a few scraps of paper!
Now this was interesting for, some years prior to any excavation taking place, a discovery was made in the little passage near the Meldrum Tower dressing room, of a stone in the wall which worked on a pivot, and which was exactly over the secret chamber. This stone, set in motion, disclosed a hole, and after some pennies were thrown down, a carpenter's tool tied to a piece of string was lowered until it touched what was thought to be the floor of the chamber. Nothing further was recorded as being done at that time, but it is interesting that the clairvoyant did not see the pennies and the carpenter's tool down there.
Today, no one has any idea where this pivot stone might be or even which passageway was being referred to – and of course all the corridors now are panelled and plastered. It means that no one today can look through this opening – and who knows what they might have found, with modern equipment and film techniques.
There had always been curiosity about the 'secret chamber' at the base of the Meldrum Tower, and in 1885 Sir Maurice Duff-Gordon removed the safe which stood in a recess in the wall in the Charter Room, and began to open up the stairway that his sister had discovered (she had visited the Castle in 1884 and had spent a lot of time in that room going through the Castle charters). He had great difficulty getting any workers to undertake the job – there were tales of evil and the 'black vomit' (plague) - and the ones that he succeeded in obtaining were definitely not locals. One of the masons who was present when the opening was made, told that in the thickness of the wall that they struggled to bore through, they found a human skeleton bricked up. However, the excavation work had only been going on a few days when Sir Maurice had a fall in the drawing room and broke his leg. His wife then insisted that he stop the investigation.
Subsequently, she suffered with her eyesight, and the old prediction that foretold that the wife of any Laird that tried to break into the secret chamber would go blind, alarmed her. She actually consulted a famous clairvoyant of the day in what she thought would be a safe way to ascertain the contents of the secret chamber, but her ideas about priceless treasure were destined to be dashed – the clairvoyant told her that there was nothing in the chamber but dust and a few scraps of paper!
Now this was interesting for, some years prior to any excavation taking place, a discovery was made in the little passage near the Meldrum Tower dressing room, of a stone in the wall which worked on a pivot, and which was exactly over the secret chamber. This stone, set in motion, disclosed a hole, and after some pennies were thrown down, a carpenter's tool tied to a piece of string was lowered until it touched what was thought to be the floor of the chamber. Nothing further was recorded as being done at that time, but it is interesting that the clairvoyant did not see the pennies and the carpenter's tool down there.
Today, no one has any idea where this pivot stone might be or even which passageway was being referred to – and of course all the corridors now are panelled and plastered. It means that no one today can look through this opening – and who knows what they might have found, with modern equipment and film techniques.
And finally
Everything reported stirs up more questions than answers. We simply do not have rational explanations for these stories, although a rational explanation could be conjured up for some of them. It is up to you how you interpret the information, I am just the reporter!
Have I experienced anything myself – well, not for want of trying! All I can say is that, in the Charter Room and in the room above it – the Gordon Dressing Room, there exists a kind of 'vacuum'. This is the best way I can describe it – the room feels acoustically dead – or put another way, you can hear the silence. Both rooms feel abnormally cold.
When walking my dog, she very often stops and stares at something in the area where the lady in the white dress has been seen, and she does not particularly want to walk in that direction.
And one day I really thought I could add a Phantom horse to my list! I was walking into the village along the Estate road, which runs alongside the Castle lake, but ascends a steep hill so you can look through the trees down towards it. I had gone past the top of the hill, so was on the downward slope, when I heard a horse walking behind me. I thought it was a rider coming up the hill, so I wouldn't see them until I had reached the bottom of the descent. When I reached the flat I turned, expecting to see a horse and rider – nothing – but I could still hear the horse walking along. By the time I had reached the end of the Estate road I had turned to look back several times but there was nothing there, only the sound of the horse again. I even though it might have been my sandals making a noise that was bouncing off the trees that I was hearing. I stopped but the horse kept coming. To add to it all, a sudden rumble of thunder heralded an approaching storm – and the horse kept coming. I hadn't got a raincoat so I moved at speed towards my destination.
The next morning I walked the dog round the lake using the track at lakeside level. There I found relatively fresh horse dung and hoof marks. Had I heard a horse and rider going round the lake yesterday, or was it something else?
Everything reported stirs up more questions than answers. We simply do not have rational explanations for these stories, although a rational explanation could be conjured up for some of them. It is up to you how you interpret the information, I am just the reporter!
Have I experienced anything myself – well, not for want of trying! All I can say is that, in the Charter Room and in the room above it – the Gordon Dressing Room, there exists a kind of 'vacuum'. This is the best way I can describe it – the room feels acoustically dead – or put another way, you can hear the silence. Both rooms feel abnormally cold.
When walking my dog, she very often stops and stares at something in the area where the lady in the white dress has been seen, and she does not particularly want to walk in that direction.
And one day I really thought I could add a Phantom horse to my list! I was walking into the village along the Estate road, which runs alongside the Castle lake, but ascends a steep hill so you can look through the trees down towards it. I had gone past the top of the hill, so was on the downward slope, when I heard a horse walking behind me. I thought it was a rider coming up the hill, so I wouldn't see them until I had reached the bottom of the descent. When I reached the flat I turned, expecting to see a horse and rider – nothing – but I could still hear the horse walking along. By the time I had reached the end of the Estate road I had turned to look back several times but there was nothing there, only the sound of the horse again. I even though it might have been my sandals making a noise that was bouncing off the trees that I was hearing. I stopped but the horse kept coming. To add to it all, a sudden rumble of thunder heralded an approaching storm – and the horse kept coming. I hadn't got a raincoat so I moved at speed towards my destination.
The next morning I walked the dog round the lake using the track at lakeside level. There I found relatively fresh horse dung and hoof marks. Had I heard a horse and rider going round the lake yesterday, or was it something else?