... and, on a happier note....

There must be thousands of Scottish ghosts who have been unhappy in love.  Brides who, fearing themselves abandoned, threw themselves to their deaths from a high place, unwilling brides, betrayed servants impregnated by the son or master of the house, women whose lovers rode off to war never to return. The misery and desperation of their legends echo down the ages at us.

The Grey Lady of the Inn at Lathones sets a different tone, however. Her story was told to me by Nick White, the Inn's owner, many years ago.  The Inn at Lathones is a four centuries old coaching inn approximately a mile from Largoward in Fife.  The oldest part of the Inn is the bar, which used to be the stables.  The front part of the house was built in the late seventeenth century and its fireplace has a wedding stone placed above it as its lintel.

Iona Kirk married Ewan Lindsay in front of the fireplace in 1718 and the couple ran the Inn together until Iona's death in 1732.  It's said that such was the love between them that the wedding stone cracked when Iona died and that Ewan died shortly afterwards.

Noises have been heard in the bar and the Grey Lady has been seen and her horse heard there.  Nick has often wondered if this is Iona settling her horse in its stall.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term "wedding stone", the picture above is an example of one that can be seen in Newburgh, Fife. They usually incorporate the year of the mariage, the initials (or in this case the full names) of the married couple and some symbol of the husband's profession.

Falkland Palace lies at the foot of the Lomond Hills in Fife.  It was originally used as a Royal Hunting Lodge in the 12th Century, having originally belonged to the MacDuff Family.  The surrounding area had plentiful amounts of deer and wild boar.  The wild boar have long gone, but deer can still be seen in the area.
In the 16th century the Palace was extended and embellished until it became the beautiful example of Renaissance architecture we can see today.

The Tapestry Gallery in the Palace is reputedly haunted by the ghost of a lady surrounded by a grey glow.  It is said that her lover was a soldier who bade her farewell then rode off to battle and never returned, and she is doomed to pace the Tapestry Gallery until he is reunited with her.

Diagonally across the road from the Palace is what used to be the Covenanter Hotel, so named, presumably, because the Covenantors who opposed the Episcopalian Church held secret meetings in the Lomond Hills behind the hotel.  Now known as Luigino's, the Covenanter Hotel was reputed to be haunted by the spirit of a young woman who would drift through the bedrooms.  Nobody knows who she was, but it has been suggested that she may be the ghost of Mary, Queen of Scots who was a regular visitor to Falkland Palace.

A few miles from Falkland, Fernie Castle stands in its own wooded grounds.  Again, the original castle which stood here belonged to the MacDuff family in the 13th century.

The tower to the west of the existing castle is said to be haunted by the ghost of a Green Lady.  She is supposed to be associated with lights turning themselves on and off and has appeared in front of startled guests and staff with a sad look upon her face.  Legend has it that her father disapproved of the man she loved, and so she ran away with him to Fernie Castle. 

Her father gathered troops and followed the pair of lovers, and when the Green Lady looked out of the west tower and saw them approach, she fell to her death.

The Lovers' Festival

It won't be long until St Valentine's Day which, for those of you with no romance in your souls, falls on February 14th.  Although Valentine is  a well-known name, not much is known about the saint himself.  There were three Valentines who were Christian martyrs.  One was martyred with some companions in Africa and all that is known about him is his name.  The other two were St Valentine of Terni and St Valentine of Rome.  Both of them were martyred and buried on the Via Flaminia.

The legend of Valentine is that he was a priest who lived in Rome around 270 AD.  Rome at that time was under threat from various neighbouring states and it was imperative that the Empire should have a strong army.  To this end, the EmperorClaudius II made a decree that young people should not be allowed to marry because he believed that a married man's loyalties would always be divided between the State and his wife and family.

Valentine, on the other hand, believed it was his duty under God to marry young lovers who wished to be united and he conducted marriage ceremonies in secret.  Nothing is ever truly a secret if more than one person knows it, however, and it was inevitable that Claudius II would find out what Valentine was doing.  Incensed, the emperor had the young priest captured and thrown into jail.

Valentine's jailer  had a daughter who was blind.  He had heard that the young priest had healing powers and he begged Valentine to try to heal his daughter.  Valentine duly obliged, the girl's sight was restored and a strong friendship was formed between the young couple.

Eventually Claudius II visited Valentine in his jail and was impressed by the way he had clung to his beliefs despite the floggings and beatings he had endured.  He was less impressed, however, by the young priest's attempts to convert him to Christianity and sentenced Valentine to death by beheading.

On the eve of his execution Valentine is said to have written a letter to his jailer's daughter and signed it "from your Valentine".  Some say the tradition of sending Valentine's cards originates from this story.

There are various superstitions linked to St Valentine's Day.  It is traditionally supposed to be the day when birds choose their mates and it is said that the first man that an unmarried girl sees on Valentine's Day will either become her husband or will resemble the man that she will eventually marry.  It is (of course) considered lucky to be woken with a kiss on Valentine's Day.

Although red roses are sent as a token of love on Valentine's Day, violets are said to have grown outside the window of his jail cell, and this is the flower most associated with him.  The violet also represents faithfulness.

Over the next few posts I'll tell the story of some ghostly lovers in Fife.

"It was a dark and a stormy night", or the Tale of the Phantom Coach

That's how so many stories start, isn't it?  Well, the ghost I'm about to tell you about only makes an appearance on a dark and stormy night and nobody has been able to explain exactly what it is.

On certain moonless nights when a storm rages inland from the coast, clouds hang low and the trees bend under the pressure of the wind and rain, a coach can be seen speeding along the road from Strathkinness.  It is pulled by two horse-like creatures with long legs, but the creatures' hooves make no noise as they pull the box-like coach.  All that can be heard is the creak of the coach's springs and the rumble of its wheels on the road's surface, and a white, frightened face can be dimly seen pressed against the window.

It is said that sometimes the coach will stop and a white skeletal hand will beckon the observer.  Anyone unwise enough to accept the offer of a lift and enter the coach is never seen again.

Some say that this is the coach that Archbishop Sharpe was dragged from and murdered in front of his daughter on Magus Muir.  Some say that the white face at the window is Cardinal Beaton.  Others will tell you that the coach is driven by the Devil himself.

Whoever the driver and passenger may be, the coach is said to hurtle through the streets of St Andrews on dark and stormy nights before disappearing over the cliffs near the castle and into the sea.

Wee Bobby

My family has its roots in St Andrews, and I learned many of its ghost stories from my grandfather.  One of my favourites was the story of Wee Bobby.

Bobby was a little terrier who belonged to a shopkeeper in South Street.  He had a set daily routine.  After lunch he would wait until a customer opened the door and then Bobby would make his escape, scampering into the street and paying social calls to the other shopkeepers.  He would sit at the butcher's door until somebody brought him a bone.  Once he had finished or buried the bone he would then visit the bakery and do his best to look half-starved in the hope that somebody would throw him a crust.  Then, as the schools let the pupils out at the end of the day, Bobby would contrive to be making his way back home in time to have the children of the town make a fuss of him.

Time passed and Bobby grew older.  He was still a familiar figure trotting along the streets of St Andrews, paying his social calls and enjoying the attention of the schoolchildren, but he moved a little more slowly and stiffly.

One December day a blizzard hit the town.  Bobby's owner tried to keep him indoors in the warmth, but Bobby was having none of it.  As soon as the opportunity presented itself he slipped out of the door for ihis daily constitutional.  This time, however, he didn't return when the children were let out of school.  His owner fretted for an hour or two and then he shut up shop and went out to look for his pet.

Imagine his sorrow when he turned into Market Street and there, by the fountain, found a limp bundle of fur half-covered by the snow.  Bobby's loving heart had given out.


Time passed and spring came to St Andrews again.  Trees came into leaf and flowers unfurled.  One day, a small boy came racing into Bobby's owner's shop.  "Come quick!"  He cried.  "Bobby's back!"

Bobby's owner tried to explain to the boy that Bobby had been dead for three months, but the child grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out the door.  "Look!"  He cried, and pointed.

There, trotting along the street was a little terrier who was unmistakably Bobby.  Why unmistakable, you ask?  Well, you remember that I told you that Bobby died in a blizzard?  This little dog was trotting along six inches above the ground.

My grandfather swore that anyone who was lucky enough to see Bobby, the phantom dog, would enjoy nothing but good luck, so, to this day, I look very carefully at any terrier that passes me in the town.

Haven't seen him yet, though.

The Veiled Nun of St Leonards

If you go through the Pends, heading downhill towards St Andrews harbour, you will see a lane running off to the right just after you have walked through the Pends and before the road turns left and heads steeply downhill between the walls of the cemetery and the walls of St Leonards School.

This little lane is known as the Nun's Walk.  It leads to the Church of St Leonard and it features in one of the most famous ghost stories of St Andrews.

Centuries ago, a young woman lived in St Andrews.  She was well-educated, religious, beautiful and rich.  Needless to say, she was also wooed by many suitors.  She, however, would have none of them and disappointed suitor after disappointed suitor was turned away from her parents'door 

One day, however, she unexpectedly allowed an eligible young man to pursue her and win her hand.  Wedding preparations were made, but the bride suddenly changed her mind and announced that instead of becoming an earthly bride she would enter a nunnery and become a Bride of Christ.

When her fiance heard this he rushed to St Andrews to claim her as his own, but, alas, when he arrived there he found that she had done what she had threatened to do; with a knife she had cut off both her eyelids, slit both her nostrils, cut off her lips and branded both her cheeks with a red-hot poker.

Horrified, he rushed back home and committed suicide.  The young woman died a few weeks later.  Since then, however, people have claimed to have seen a dark figure, heavily-veiled, emerging from behind a tree in this lane.  If you look to the left of this photo you can see the stump which is all that's left of the tree now.

Encountering the Veiled Nun of St Leonards was regarded as a sign of ill-omen, and if she drew aside her heavy veil and showed her mutilated face the unfortunate spectator was doomed to die within the year.

Why did the lady act this way?  Was she a religious fanatic?  Was she so afraid of marriage?  Nobody knows.  There isn't even historical proof of a nunnery existing in St Andrews but the tale has been handed down for centuries...

Golfing Legends

The 150th British Open Championship takes place in St Andrews on July 15th to 18th 2010, and excitement is already mounting in the town.  Golf legends are arriving from all over the world to play on the Old Course, but the town already holds three of the world's most famous golfing legends within its cathedral graveyard. 

Allan Robertson was one of the first professional golf players.  He was recognised as the best golfer of his time.  He was born in St Andrews in 1815 and was a professional ball and club maker who exported his products all over the world.

Old Tom Morris worked for Allan Morris from the time when he was 14 years old, and often played in partnership together, and the two men designed Carnoustie golf course together.  They fell out, however, when Robertson caught Old Tom playing with the new "guttie" ball which he saw as a threat to the traditional "featherie" balls which he made.

Old Tom moved to Prestwick in 1851, to design and build a new golf course where he would become professional and greenkeeper.  Allan Robertson died in 1859 and the British Open Championship came about as a result of his death when, in 1860, golfers at Prestwick held a competition to see who would succeed him as "Champion Golfer".  Old tTom Morris struck the first shot in the competition but Willie Park from Musselburgh was the winner.

The Open, as this annual competition came to be known, is the oldest of the four major championships 

The other two golfing legends cradled within the cathedral grounds are Old Tom Morris and his son Tommy.  Old Tom Morris was born in a house in North Street, St Andrews and was apprenticed to Allan Robertson for four years and spent another five years as his journeyman.  After being fired by Robertson and moving to Prestwick in 1851, he returned to St Andrews in 1865 as greenkeeper and professional on the Old Course which had fallen into poor condition after Allan Robertson's death.

Old Tom stayed in the post of greenkeeper and professional until 1903.  He died just before his 87th birthday in 1908 when he fell down a flight of stairs at the New Golf Club.

  

The story of Young Tom Morris is a tale of blazing talent mixed in with tragedy.  Son of Old Tom, Young Tom was born in St Andrews in 1851 and was raised in Prestwick where, since his father was designer, professional and greenkeeper of the course, he had plenty of opportunity to play golf. 

He showed great talent at the game and won his first Open in 1868 at the age of seventeen.  He then won again in 1869, 1870 and 1872.  His was the first name to be engraved on the famous Claret Jug when it was purchased in 1873.

Tom and his father often played in exhibition matches, and it was during one such match in North Berwick in 1875 that word came to Young Tom that his wife, Margaret, had gone into labour.  There were only two holes left to play, so father and son finished and won the match and hurried home by ship.

By the time they reached St Andrews both mother and baby had died.  Heartbroken, Young Tom died on Christmas morning 1875.  The official cause of death was given as a heart attack.

Golfers from all over the world visit these graves to pay their respects and leave tributes to the Great Old Man of Golf and to the rising star whose life was so tragically cut short