The Devil’s Chair and the Haunting Folklore of Shropshire
Shropshire is a county of contrasts, where landscapes shift dramatically from the flat and seemingly endless plains in the northeast to the rolling hills and ancient woodlands of the southwest, where lakes like those at Ellesmere punctuate the scenery. Yet it is the dramatic, craggy ridge of the Stiperstones that stands as perhaps the most striking feature of them all. This rugged landscape, scattered with jagged tors, bears the weight of history, myth, and an unmistakable air of mystery.
The Stiperstones have long been a place of legend, a land where the past whispers through the wind and the stones seem to hold secrets that stretch back centuries. One legend above all dominates the folklore of these hills—the tale of the Devil’s Chair. This is no ordinary rock formation. The Devil’s Chair is the highest and most imposing of the Stiperstones’ rocky outcrops, a place where myth and superstition intertwine with the very landscape itself.
According to legend, the rocks of the Devil’s Chair were not shaped by mere natural forces alone but were delivered there by none other than the Devil himself. As the tale goes, the Devil was journeying across Britain from Ireland, carrying a heavy load of stones in his apron. What business he had with these stones, or indeed why he owned an apron, is left to the imagination. Some say he was on a mission to fill in the valley known as Hell’s Gutter, a bleak and shadowed place lying just beyond the ridge. Others might suggest he had been interrupted while doing household chores for Mrs Satan and had found himself distracted by a sudden compulsion to remodel the Shropshire countryside.
But things did not go as planned. As the Devil took a brief rest on the highest peak of the Stiperstones, his apron strings suddenly snapped. The rocks tumbled out in a chaotic cascade, littering the ridge with jagged, eerie formations. Instead of gathering them up and continuing his mission, the Devil abandoned the stones where they fell, leaving them to lie scattered across the landscape as a permanent reminder of his visit. To this day, some claim that on hot days, if you stand among the rocks, you can still smell the sulphurous stench of brimstone, a lingering trace of the Devil’s presence.
But the Devil’s association with the Stiperstones does not end there. The legend tells that he did not simply pass through once and never return. Instead, on the longest night of the year, the winter solstice, he is said to take his place upon the Devil’s Chair itself. From this lofty perch, he summons his followers—witches, spirits, and dark forces from across the land—to gather before him. It is here, beneath the cold winter sky, that they choose their ruler for the coming year, a shadowy coronation steeped in dark folklore. For those who dare to tread the Stiperstones on such a night, the air is thick with whispers of the unseen, and the ridge seems to take on a life of its own, shifting underfoot as though disturbed by an ancient and restless presence.
Yet for all its sinister reputation, the Stiperstones are a place of natural wonder. The jagged ridge, composed of Stiperstones Quartzite, is unique to the area, its rocky crest shaped by the slow but relentless forces of ice and frost. During the last Ice Age, these mighty formations were shattered and sculpted by the elements, creating the unmistakable landscape seen today. What was once buried beneath softer rock has been revealed by time, forming a stark and striking contrast to the gentler hills of the surrounding countryside.
This land has seen many changes, from the bustling days of mining at Snailbeach to its current status as a haven for walkers and nature lovers. Yet the stories remain. Whether one believes in the legends or not, there is no denying that the Stiperstones hold a presence, a power that lingers in the very rock and wind. Those who climb to the Devil’s Chair cannot help but feel it—the weight of history, the echoes of myth, and the unshakable sense that this place is unlike any other.
You can listen to an episode featuring guest Amy Boucher taking about devil narratives within Shropshire here:
https://www.podpage.com/
Bannockburn House By Jack Ziska
