The Poltergeist of Hafod Uchtryd

Hafod Uchtryd, circa 1795

As I have mentioned a number of times before, Wales is a wonderful source for ghost tales, folklore, accounts of strange creatures, and basic High Strangeness of all sorts, so it’s no surprise that the land has spawned some first-class poltergeists, as well.  In 1759, lexicographer Lewis Morris wrote a letter to his brother Richard describing the lively spectral doings which were then happening at the estate of Hafod Uchtryd in Ceredigion:

Great numbers of honest people agree, and those of no mean understanding, that an invisible power performed extraordinary feats at Havod in the year 1751, and that the same kind or the like feats are now performed there after an intermission of 8 years.  A sensible man told me he had seen in the kitchen there by daylight the potatoes in a basket made ready to be boiled jump out one after another towards the top of the room, and were no more seen till they soon returned into the basket, as you have seen maggots jump out of cheese in hot weather.  

Several others that were in company at that house in 1751 told me there was about 15 of them one night in the same room, who had met there out of curiosity.  The room was shut close.  The hearth was soon full of stones--some as large as one’s hand, all laid gently down there by an invisible power without hurting anybody.  One of the company took the largest of the stones and put it under his foot that he might keep it secure as he thought, but while they were in full talk about the surprising effects of the spirit, all the stones were instantly removed to the other end of the room, and that on which the man had his foot along with the rest; and at the same time they could hear a tinkling in a brass pan which was in the room, and nobody near it.

At other times this invisible power would lift up a large hall table as much as 4 men could lift and turn it feet uppermost, and knock it against the top of the room, and in an instant put it in its place.

Once the mistress called her maid to bring a certain tub with oatmeal on the table to make the bread, and in an instant this officious fellow heaped up the tub with oatmeal and threw it on the table without spilling a grain, which would have been impossible for any human being to do.

He broke a parson’s head till the blood ran for pretending to control him, and a son of John Rowlands, then tenant, that was in bed with the parson, had a cut on his nose, and he’ll carry the scar to his grave.  You see what it is to keep bad company.

Evan Williams, who you know, saw a piece of window glass fall from the air on a table there, without breaking, which no man could have done, and a piece of painted delft ware come gently on a person’s plate that eat there.

This intruder would take John Rowlands’ great coat and button it about a chair, and place 2 or 3 peats on the top of the chair for a neck and a hat atop of that, which no man could possibly balance to stand there, and when the old man would hit them down with his hand in a passion, and cry what is this foolish fancy, all the buttons of the great coat would open instantly and the coat thrown after him.   This strange gentleman was more free and paid more pranks with the old man than with any of the family.  He would sometimes raise a great coffer with oatmeal, and put it athwart the bed over the old man’s legs.  He would often open the curtains and pull the clothes off his bed; it grew so busy at last till all the servants were tired with his company, and chose to leave him in possession of the house.  How he’ll behave with his friend Brych time will show.

I had forgot to tell you that when the stones as above were removing about the room, a person in thin pumps was heard to walk very gently and slide on the boards above them, while at the same time there was knocking in the brass pan, so it seems there is more than one of them, perhaps he may have his female as well as Brych, if bwganod [ghosts or goblins] do propagate their species.

Now upon all this what can we say?  The evidence of his being there is of the strongest kind, but why should he play those monkey tricks, and why not play more of them as it is in his power to play some of them?  He is no good being, for he might be at home doing something if he was.  Is he a devil, one of the inhabitants of hell?  He is a simple one if he is, otherwise he would have put on the shape of an angel of light, and cunningly have infused pernicious doctrines into the head of Brych, who was so well qualified to receive them.

Other sources say that the “bwganod” liked to laugh and shout and “kiss women in the dark.”  At other times, it would appear as “a beautiful woman wanting to be kissed” and a pig that would rub against the master and mistress of the estate.

The Hafod poltergeist was not only versatile, but unusually persistent.  In 1879, one Charles Wilkins noted that the bwganod had moved its main base of operations to the stables:  “If Mr. Johnes wanted a horse saddled quickly, the moment it was done, everything would be taken off by invisible hands.  Busy stablemen would get lumps of turf thrown at them, and they would be obliged to run away in fear and trembling, and when they returned it was to find everything in disorder--combs and brushes lying about in all sorts of places, harnesses piled in a heap, and, in fact, just such a condition of things as one might expect from the hands of a practical joker.”

Hafod Uchtryd was eventually destroyed by a fire that was widely suspected to have been caused by the resident bwganod.  Whether this was the case or not, the spirit continued to make its usual mischief around the ruins.  The owner, Thomas Johnes, had no desire to rebuild his home around a trouble-making sprite, so he engaged a conjurer to perform an exorcism.  This expert summoned the bwganod and turned it into a fly, which he snapped up in his book of spells.  The spirit was then ordered to “betake himself to Devil’s Bridge, and there with an ounce hammer and a tin tack cut off a fathom of the rock.”

Although this sounds like a spectral success story, Hafod--considered one of Europe’s finest 18th century picturesque landscapes--is still considered to be haunted.  It is a justly popular hiking area, if you don’t mind the possibility that you will be sharing your walk with a vintage hobgoblin.