The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1881-07-30 00:00:00

THE LATE DEAN STANLEY.

Funeral sermons on the late Dean Stanley were
preached on Sunday in Westminster Abbey by the
Rev. Canon Farrar, the Dean of Llandaff, and the
Bishop of Peterborough. The Dean of Llandaff acted
by request of the late Dean Stanley himself, who on
his deathbed said" Let my funeral sermon be preached
by Dr. Vaughan; he has known me longest."

Canon Farrar preached in the forenoon from the
words in Revelation, "And I heard a voice from
Heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead
which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea saith the
Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and
their works de follow them." The preacher said the
late Dean referred to his connexion with Westminster
Abbey, in almost his last articulated words. "The
end has come," he said, "in the way I most desired
it should come. I could not have controlled it better.
After preaching one of my sermons on the Beatitudes,
I had a most violent fit of sickness took to my bed,
and said immediately that I wished to die at West-
minster. I am perfectly happy, perfectly satisfied.
I have no misgivings." A little later Dean Stanley
added, "So far as I know whal the duties of this
office are supposed to be, in spite of every incom-
petence, I yet humbly trust that I have sustained
before the mind of the nation the extraordinary value
of the Abbey as a religious, liberal, and national in-
stitution." When scarcely ablsi to speak he rallied
the ebbing forces of life to bless the weeping mourners
who were gathered round his ' bedside, and, added the
preacher, "He who held his hand at that blessed' and
sacred moment will never forget the deep pause, the
earnest pressure of his hand at the end of the sacred
names 'the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.'"
The Dean of Llandaff, preaching in the afternoon,
selected as his text the words in St. Matthew, "Blessed
G are the pure in heart, for they shall see od." He
opened the Book he said, where another closed it only
a fortnight ago. These words he thought must have
been in the minds of many during the last few days as
they thought of the late Dean. After a passing
allusion to the late Dean's dying request in respect to
himself, the preacher recounted his first meeting with
young Stanley in the school chapel at Rugby on the
afternoon of Good Friday, 1830, and the subsequent
influence of Dr. Arnold upon the young scholar, remark-
ing that if the one was in many respects a hero-teacher,
the other was in every sense a hero pupil. The bio-
praphy of Arnold, which Dean Stanley afterwards gave
to the world, was not eclipsed by any other work of
his in its intrinsic and permanent value. It was the
genius of Arthur Stanley which created the posthu-
mous influence of Arnold, as it was the character of
Arthur Stanley which presented the living work of
Arnold in its abiding form of beauty and virtue. The
preacher apologized for dwelling upon the earlier
rather than the later portions of the life of his friend.
Of the later they could all speak—the brilliancy of his
position as he made it, the hospitality of his home as
another beside him graced it; the multitude of his
Interests, reaching from the poorest alleys of West-
minster to the very steps of the Throne ;the marvel-
lous charm of his presence, united to the simplicity of
his nature the delight of his conversation, the ever-
growing celebrity of his name, and the recognized sanc-
tity of his life. They had been witnesses also of the
sorrowful overclouding of his happiness when he laid the
body of his wife in that Abbey, and returned to his
desolate home, to be for five years more with what-
ever gleams and glimmers there might be of former
prosperity, a bereaved and somewhat forlorn man.
Amid all that, they had seen how he still diligently
discharged his duty towards the Church, and towards
the world, notably to that Abbey, with its grand
memories, thinking ever how to make it more acces-
sible, more attractive, more instructive to the working
man, to the weary woman, and to the little ehildren of
London and of England. To the last his eye was
undimmed and his natural force unabated. There
was still in him much of the old fire, more than ever
of the old beauty. His life, perhaps, in some
respects challenged criticism. Where oppression or in
justice was suspected the balance of his judgment was
not always impartial; but where should they see
again that courage, that intrepidity, that defiance of
odds in a cause thought ta be that of justice, where
that persistent championship of a friend thought to
be injured, that intensity of friendship, never falter-
ing, always true? They were all the poorer for his
death, and would remain so. Men such as he could
not but be missed—ought to be missed—when they were
gone. "He was not found," it was written of one of
them. Men looked for him in his tent and in his
chamber, and he was not found, for God had trans-
lated him. Most men of mark had one characteristic.
In Dean Stanley's case that characteristic appeared
under more than one name. It combined absolute natu-
ralness, wonderful singleness, beautiful disinterested-
ness superiority to obloquy, and perfect truthfulness—
qualities which had their source in that purity of heart
spoken of in the sixth Beatitude. "I have not known
amongst men," one sorrowful letter said to him, "so white
a soul, so singular a heart ;" and he (the preacher), who
had "known him longest," he, who for half a century
had been his companion, his confidant, his friend, at last
his brother, could say of him as he laid him in his
grave that never, never, never did he know him other
than pure. They looked upon one another and said,
"What is this which God bath done unto us?" They
were apt to lose the true comfort which lay somewhere
in every sorrow for such as had the secret. The
preacher then pointed out the lessons which this
event was calculated to teach. It could not really be
ended. Dean Stanley himself sometimes felt in his
later years the incompleteness of his own career. He
had reached the point at which a man began to ask
himself—"ls this all? .Is it for this that I have
come all this way—for this small amount of success
in acting upon the thoughts and habits of my genera-
tion ? " To him each victory of what he counted pre-
judice, or bigotry. or passion, was felt as a per-
sonal grief, affecting his health and spirits, and
diminishing his stock of life. Must there not, the
preacher asked, be somewhere out of:sight a compen-
sating existence—a home, indeed, of "many mansions,"
in which faculties and energies, straitened here in their
beneficent action, might find their full Boone and their
perpetual progress towards perfection? No waste was
more wanton, and therefore, under a God of wisdom
and judgment, more inconceivable, than that which
would be if Arthur Stanley had perished. The
preacher concluded by impressing upon his audience
the importance of leaving nothing to a deathbed.
They who found themselves last Monday in the
chamber of death were struck by one thing—the sepa-
rateness, even before the last stroke, of the staying
and the departing. Too late then to say things that
had till then been left unsaid, too late then to settle
one ambiguous question, or to lay anew one founda-
tion stone of the everlasting hope! They ought to
settle with themselves long before that last hour came
every practical question which concerned immortality,
and if, as the old Book said, there was One who had
" undertaken " for them, let them give themselves no
rest till they were able to say in the sweet words of
him they mourned that day :

"Oh, remember, Saviour dear,
What the cause that brought Thee here,
Thou to save my soul hat borne
Cross, and grief, and hate, and scorn;
Oh may all that toil and pain
Not be wholly spent in vain."

The Bishop of Peterborough preached in the evening
from Exodus xiv., 15—" Speak unto the people that
they go forward." Treating the miraculous passage of
the Red Sea as embodying a lesson that was taught to
the Jews, but was meant for all time, for all nations,
and for all individuals, he said if there was one lesson
to be drawn from the unfilled grave in the Abbey to
be closed the next day, it was the same lesson taught
by the miraculous passage of the Red Sea—the lesson
of fearlessness in the discharge of duty, of resolute
walking in the way that we knew to be God's. There
were monuments in the Abbey that told of vulgar
ostentation, or of weak and petty vanity, or of undying
greatness; and it was around the latter that he.
whose death they mourned preferred to gather
groups of visitors and working men and to speak of
the lives of heroic devotion, of service to God and man.
Within these walls the remains of him who for
eighteen years had been their devoted and loving
guardian were to find their last shelter. The highest
and the noblest in the land would follow him to the
grays; the poorest and the meanest of those who lived
around woad come again and again and bring their
children to the place where would rest all that could
die of him who did what he could to make their lives
more happy and beautiful. And why? Because all
ranks and classes recognized in him a hreat and true
man who honestly and fearlessly through life strove
to battle for what he believed to be true and right.
Whenever he believed he heard the voice of God say-
ing to him, "Go forward," he would obey at whatever
peril. Standing by his grave, we might well pray to
be guided by the spirit that animated his life and sus-
tained him in death. The,anthem was Spobr's "Blest
are the departed," and at the conclusion of the service,
Dr. Bridge played the "Dead March" in Saul and a
funeral march by Mendelssohn: The greater part of
the crowded congregation remained to hear both.

At the afternoon service at St. Paul's Cathedral
the sermon was preached by the Rev. Canon Gregory,
who observed that in the last few days one had been
suddenly snatched from them who would be much
missed and deeply mourned over by a wide circle of
friends. The views of Dean Stanley were not those
which he himself entertained, neither did he share the
principles by which his life was governed, but he could
honestly pay a tribute of admiration to one whom he
I was never in a position to call a friend. The boldness
and honesty with which Dean Stanley advocated what
he believed to be true were worthy of admiration.
I The brilliancy of his writings attracted numberless
readers. The great ability with which he was
endowed he cultivated carefully from his child-
hood onwards, and as a schoolboy, a student at
the University of Oxford, as well as throughout
his subsequent career, his course was uniformly
successful. It had probably happened to few
men to have surroundings so bright and happy, and
to possess such friends, among whom were numbered
the highest and the lowest. His varied talents won
fin, him a high place in the esteem and regard of those
who knew him, while with one voice those who knew
him intimately spoke in terms of warmest affection of
his kindliness of heart, urbanity of manners, and
sweetness of temper. While courted by the great, he
was mindful of those in humble positions, and many
acts of thoughtful attention showed his sympathy and
consideration for them. For eighteen years he hali
filled a most dignified ecclesiastical position in this
metropolis, and had made his name known to most of
its inhabitants ; and now he had been taken from them
by death, and the place that had known him upon
earth would know him no more. He tru4ed that
what he had done for the honour of God might ever be
remembered, and that in the sunlight of God's glorious
presence he might enjoy happiness for ever and ever.
The Dead March in Saul was played on the organ in
honour of the late Dean of Westminster.

The Right Rev, R. Dudley, Assistant Bishop of
Kentucky, preached on Sunday at the morning service
at St. Margaret's, Westminster. Referring to the
death,of Dean Stanley, he.eaid that ,aa an American,
he could not forget that, by commandment of the late
dean, the Abbey opened its doors to receive the dead
body of their great Bishop M'llwaine as it journeyed
from Italy to America, and that there were celebrated
the obsequies of Peabody, who lavished his wealth
upon the poor of America, as much as of Enema.

In thousands and thousands of hearts over the
sea there would be recollections, grateful and pro-
found, of the cordial welcome he extended to multi-
tudes who came to see the glories of the mother.
land. How many would shed tears that day
as they remembered that the hand was cold and
dead, and that the brain was at rest, which had
enabled them "to prove all things and hold fast that
which was good." In their new country they had
constant arrivals of immigrants of varying religious
teaching, and whatever they might think of the possi-
bility of universal organic unity, there was a din and
confusion in which it was hard to hear any voice call-
ing to rest and peace. Thousands to-day would give
thanks for the man who was a chieftain among those
who would maintain that not orthodoxy of opinion,
1-ut personal loyalty to Jesus was faith. Thousands
would be thankful that they had been made ac-
quainted, not with a doctrine, or theory, but a fact,
and that in that knowledge they had found rest.
Many would do honour to the dead Prophet who had
taught them that if charity were attained, then all
shall be one. So he thought of this great man
whose departure had left such a gap in the Church
of England, in London society—nay in the Church
of Jesus Christ. So he thought of him, and so thought
a great company of his countrymen. They thought
of him as of the aged Apostle at Ephesus, who en-
joined charity among those who were partakers of the
same precious promises, bidding them to be conformed
to the image of Christ, and to attain to that charity
which was so marked a feature of the Christian dispen-
sation. They were to love one another, for love was of
God, and he thatloveth not wasnot of God. Nomatter
what their differences might be, they were to remember
this, to love one another. Let them recognize the
result of Christ's grace wherever they saw it. By and
by all those who were like 'him would see him, and
then they would know as well as love the object of
their desire. Because he would have all Christians love
one another, therefore, their deceased friend could not
be angry with those who tried to prevent their uniting
affections. Those who survived bowed their heads and
blessed God for the gift of His servant whom he had
taken from them, and he prayed that they might
ever remember that the end of the commandment was
charity.

At Christ Church, Westmine es-road, the Rev.
Newman Hall referred to Dean Stanley as illustrating
charity in drawing together those whom opinions or
circumstances kept asunder. In this he had been
aided by his noble-hearted wife. Dean Stanley had
invited men who were not Episcopalians to lecture in
the nave of the Abbey; and had expressed regret that
he could do no snore. He had himself met the Dean
at Cheshunt College (Countess of Huntingdon's) and
New College (Independent), where, by his addresses
and genial intercourse, he had won the hearts both
students and professors. Dean Stanley had taken part
in the funeral services of Dr. Binney and of the Rev.
Samuel Martin, the latter of whom he used playfully to
call his Westminster curate. Many had been his kind-
nesses to themselves. He had 'presided at a lecture
delivered by the preacher in Surrey Chapel; he had
been their guest at the breakfast given there to the
Congregational Union, when he designated the
assembly as "Nonconforming members of the Church
of England ; " he had aided by his contribution the
erection of their new church; and had promised to
lecture to working men in the hall adjoining. Such a
spirit would not lead either Dissenters or Churchmen
to abandon conscientious convictions; but it would
divest differences of all bitterness, and render those
very differences the occasion of more emphatically
'illustrating that love to Christ, and to man for His
sake, which constituted the true unity of the Church.
At the service two of the Dean's hymns—the" Trans-
figuration "and the "Dies Ira "—were sung, and the
"Dead March" was played.

The life and character of the late Dean of West-
minster were the subject of a discourse by bhe Rev.
Dawson Burns, M.A., president of the General
Baptist Association, delivered on Sunday evening in
Church-street Chapel, Edgware-road.
The Rev. H. H. Montgomery, a personal friend of
the late Dean, and one of those present at his death,
preached on Sunday at St. Mark's, Kennington, from
the text " Blessed are the pure in spirit, for they shall
see God." The occasion derived additicnal interest
from the fact that the late Dean had preached at St.
Mark's on Hospital Sunday, and was to have visited
the parish again in the course of the present week.