Stannington

[RichardB]

Quite a number of folk in Sheffield have never heard of the little village of Stannington, right away up on top of the hills overlooking the Rivelin and the Loxley Valleys. It is a quaint old spot, and one of the oldest villages around our city of Sheffield. It may lay claim to the fact that not only is it one of the oldest, but it is also one of the healthiest, for, standing high up as it does, it is swept by the keen fresh moorland air, straight from the Moscar Moors; where not a sound can be heard save the wind through the heather, and the hoarse cry of the grouse as he flies to and fro after his daily food.

Stannington people are fond of their village and judging by the tombstones in the old church-yard they live long lives. "Winter," they say, "is a thing to be afraid of, for the snow comes driving across the hills and almost buries us, so deep are the drifts."

When they told me this in Stannington I fully believed them for it is a village set on a hill and no mistake. When I reached it after much climbing and the necessary puffing and panting, I felt very much like the old man who said not once, but twice, in deep and sonorous tone, "Never again, never again."

However, a tired traveller is amply repaid, for a rest in the churchyard of the breezy village will give him one of the finest views of the moorland hill and valley to be found in the country.

In the Churchyard

It was into the churchyard I wended my way, and there on an old grey tombstone rested my weary limbs.

Judging from the moss-grown gravestones, on would think Stannington Church belonged to centuries ago, but this is quite wrong, for it is comparatively modern and the oldest tombstone dates back no further back than 1828.

With the Huntsman

Curious indeed are some of the epitaphs of forty years ago, and it makes an unpretentious mortal without much gift or talent somewhat glad that tombstone eulogies are no longer things of today.

That Stannington was famed for its "Harriers" a half century ago we are sure, for under the shade of a sheltering tree is a tomb -

To the memory of

"John Ollerenshaw,

"Huntsman of the Stannington Harriers

over 50 Years.

Died March 5th 1881,

Aged 81 Years."

We are told his many friends placed the stone in his memory, and composed a long verse in his honour:

"He loved hunting,

T'was here his choice:

Hills, dale, and woodlands, echoed..... to

his voice.

With eager steps the hares he oft' did chase.

And often death, poor puss met in the race."

This very descriptive verse is ornamented with hunting horn and crop, and there in the quietness of the churchyard he sleeps, this old man who helped Stannington to be far-famed for it's company of harriers.

Near the gate leading into the churchyard is a grave, which, so I was told, is so deep that the diggers actually reached a seam of coal. Not only had they to work hard in digging, but each coffin had to be well-nigh buried with branches, and tree trunks, so that the last mortal remains of the folk buried therein should lie in peace, undisturbed by the body-snatchers of some eighty years ago.

A Remembrance of the Flood

Quite near the churchyard in the Vicarage garden is a tall and stately tree which was planted there on March 13th, 1864, by the then Vicar who rescued it, a young sapling from the waters of the devastating flood, caused by the bursting of the Bradfield reservoir on the night of March 12th, 1864.

Many are the stories that tree could tell, we may be sure, of that awful night when many folk perished and when whole houses were washed away by the foaming waters.

Not a few victims lie buried in the quiet churchyard of Stannington, the little village which was saved because "it was set on a hill."

Derivation

Some folk say that "Stannington" has obtained its name from the fact that it stands well. But in all probability it gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon "Stonen," meaning Stoney Town, for many are the huge stones and boulders to be found in the neighbourhood.

Others, mainly Stannington folk, we may venture to say, make a statement to the fact that when Oliver Cromwell was devastating town after town, village after village, he gave orders that Stannington was not to be touched, for in this village lived folk whose morals were good, Hence "Stannington" - the Standing Town.

We may suppose the folk of Stannington have a somewhat soft spot in their hearts for Oliver, at any rate, they seem to like the "derivation" of their village's name.

The Vicar of Stannington, the Rev. F.A. Stebbing, M.A., is a Cambridge man, and accepted the living only three years ago. He knew the district fairly well, however, because previously he was at Bolsterstone, not very far removed from his present church. Luckily Mr.Stebbing lives the fresh, open-air life, and he minds not in the least that he is well out of town and during the winter months almost cut off from it. He is of a very bright personality, and brimful of the saving grace of humour.

Keenly interested in the life of all his people, he tries to make the Church a real centre from which all things both of the spiritual and of the social side of life are of the highest and best. In this little village set on the hills the church really does seem to take a real, living, active part in everyday life.

In the Peace celebrations of Saturday, July 19th there was service in the Church, procession, children's tea in the schoolroom, and then afterwards the sports. The church was indeed recognised as the home from which all good should come.

On Sunday last all the demobilised soldiers in the district, after asking permission of the Vicar, had a special procession and service in the Church to commemorate the lives of those of their comrades who have fallen.

Each year they hope to keep up this memorial service, and 'ere long it is hoped to place a Peal of Bells in the tower in memory of the brave men who gave their lives for King and country.

Musical Folk

The folk of Stannington are "musical," as is a well known fact of all people who live in hilly districts. the continual climbing helps them to inflate their lungs properly, in short to breathe correctly.

The choir, under the direction of Mr. J.E. Dyson, choirmaster, and with Mr. Bruce Robinson as organist, is the pride of the church, and music plays a very important part in the services.

The Church

The church's interior can boast of no great beauty. It is bright and cheerful, but there is nothing of art which belongs to the past, to grow on one, and to give that keen sense of delight which an old sanctuary rich in the beauty of old time architecture always gives.

The plain wooden gallery is all round the church, and there is that cold barrenness which belongs to all churches which were built out of the "Million fund Scheme" in the early days of the 19th century, when "beauty of architecture," or beauty in any shape or form, was a minus quantity.

Stone-laying

On October 16th, 1828, the first stone of Stannington Church was laid by the Rev. T. Richard Ryder, Vicar of Ecclesfield, for until the thirties Stannington was in the Parish of Ecclesfield.

Very interesting it is indeed to read of the stone-laying so long ago, when the Vicar of Ecclesfield and many clergy of Sheffield, with many town notabilities, including William Hurst, then mayor of Doncaster, held a service after the stone-laying, and then proceeded to the Peacock Inn for tea, followed by a procession of village folk and school children, who sang whilst these worthies were within enjoying tea.

Those days have long since passed away, and in the churchyard lies buried one past Vicar, the Rev. William Gill, one-time stable boy in a gentleman's family, who educated himself and finally managed to gain entrance to a Theological College, where he became, not Bill Gill, but the Rev. William Gill, later Vicar of Stannington, who became greatly loved and revered by his people.

The Rev. Samuel Parkes, Vicar from 1879-1907, lies buried in the churchyard, and his memory will ever be fondly revered by those people who knew him as their pastor and their friend.

Always, Stannington Church has stood for much to its people, especially during the dark days of war, and may it in years to come stand for much, so that it will indeed be a "lamp set on a hill whose light cannot be hid."