Turn the stone to keep the devil away: Bonfire Night in a Devon village

The hills reverberate with the sound of clanging bells. A multitude of rooks nestled in the trees of the cemetery fluster into the night sky. At 7:45 pm on November 5th, the bells of St. Michael's church chime disharmoniously across the Shebbear village, situated in the rural area of western Devon which overlooks the Dartmoor Hills. On Bonfire Night in this locality, no fireworks light up the sky, nor is there a blazing bonfire to be seen. Instead, there is a solitary stone.

There is a large rock known as the Devil's Stone located beneath an old oak tree in the town square of Shebbear. This stone is not native to the area, as it is made of a type of quartz composite instead of the sandstone and shale that is prevalent in the region. However, during the annual tradition of turning the stone on November 5th, no one really cares about its composition. What matters most is that the stone is turned as a part of the ritual.

The head of the church in Shebbear, Reverend Martin Warren, is a key player in the ceremony. According to Martin, the Devil's Stone was supposedly dropped on the devil by the archangel Michael after a big fight in the heavens, trapping him in Shebbear. The stone is rotated annually to prevent calamity and ensure that the devil does not "squirm out from underneath it."

Ron Ackland, an 89-year-old historian from Shebbear who holds the town's secrets, has given me an alternate account. Ron claims that the tale is purely fictional, but the local gossip suggests that the devil supposedly left the rock in Shebbear en route to Northlew, where he succumbed to the frosty weather.

The spooky sound signals to everyone that it’s time to wrap up their feast and assemble around the stone, where Martin delivers his speech as the oak leaves rustle in the background. The audience jeers at the devil before Martin declares, "We will not let the devil have the final say. Let's summon the Shebbear's bellringers to join us on the fame stone!" Suddenly, the bellringers from Shebbear emerge, holding crowbars in their hands.

A hypnotic chorus of "Rotate the rock! Rotate the rock!" emanates from the throng while the bellringers strain to move the massive object with their tools. The singing intensifies with each passing moment, and some members of the gathering grow increasingly restless. "Come on, turn it already!" an individual urges. When the gigantic rock is finally rotated, the crowd erupts in applause, and youngsters emit delighted shrieks. "On one occasion when we turned it," Ron recalls, "a rat scampered out, and everyone assumed it was Satan in the flesh!"

There are many ideas about how the stone materialized in Shebbear, but the most probable one is that it was carried by glacial ice. This is supported by the presence of comparable wandering rocks in the vicinity. In terms of its historical significance, it is speculated that the stone could have been a fragment of a pagan altar. Others theorize it could have functioned as a gathering place for an Anglo-Saxon parliament, given that Shebbear served as a hub for an Anglo-Saxon "hundred" - a district of a shire for legal and military objectives according to customary law.

Insights, whether religious or irreligious, usually occur on mountain peaks with their unobstructed vistas of the sky, and Shebbear is positioned on a peak that towers around 150 meters above sea level. A peak displaying a large, peculiar stone would have been a favorable location for rituals. However, the reason why individuals began to pivot it is still an enigma. Ron asserts that "Anyone claiming to know the answer is not being truthful."

According to Ron, the ritual is considered as one of the earliest folk traditions in Europe, although there is no proof of its existence prior to the 20th century. Ron mentioned that he only practiced turning the stone for 20 years, while his father did it for about 45 years, just like the men before them. In living memory, the stone has been left unturned twice, which occurred during the two world wars. However, during the second world war, despite blackouts, they immediately corrected the situation to prevent further misfortunes.

Ron and his father's spectacular turning performance caught the attention of many people back in 1946 and was even broadcasted by the BBC radio. However, it remained silent over the years until a recent revival of folkloric traditions due to growing concerns about our planet's condition in the 21st century. These customs are believed to connect us with our ancestors who respected and honored the land, knowing that neglecting it would bring chaos. Last year, a large group of 400 individuals gathered at the square to partake in the ritual.

This year marks the third time I'll be participating in the annual "turning" event since relocating to the area from Lundy, which is a part of Shebbear's old "hundred." Some individuals might regard it as nothing more than a reason to celebrate and have a good time, but there's more to it than that. Following the turning, everyone gathers at The Devil's Stone Inn for some dancing and a beverage to the tunes of Big Al & The Wild Strawberries. Yet, according to Martin, there's more to the story than solely this. Each location has its distinct narrative, both through the land and the people who inhabit it, and the stone is an integral part of that.

When you touch the stone, it feels cool and damp, and when you give it a flip, the aroma of mud and moss reaches your nose. Ron believes that the stone carries the memories of every person who has participated in the ceremony, and as long as the stone remains, they will too. "I personally feel that the stone is a cherished possession," he remarks. It serves as a memorial for everyone and represents the idea of rebirth.

The story of the devil, the stone, and the ritual holds a deeper meaning. It represents the stone's connection to the land and the ritual's connection to the community. At first, I was skeptical of the repeated chanting of "Turn the stone!" However, as I joined in with my neighbor, I felt a sense of togetherness. Despite any differences we may have, we both believe that the stone must be turned.