Transcribed from the 1896 Hodder and Stoughton edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: Photograph of Edward Hoare. Lankester Photo, Tunbridge Wells.
Jenkins Heliog, Paris]
EDWARD HOARE, M.A.
A RECORD OF HIS LIFE BASED UPON A
BRIEF AUTOBIOGRAPHY
* * * * *
EDITED BY THE
REV. J. H. TOWNSEND, D.D.
_Vicar of Broadwater Down_, _Tunbridge Wells_
_Author of_ “_Spiral Stairs_; _or_, _the Heavenward Course of the_
_Church Seasons_”
* * * * *
_WITH A PORTRAIT_
* * * * *
London
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
27, PATERNOSTER ROW
* * * * *
MDCCCXCVI
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Printed by Hazell_, _Watson_, _& Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_.
PREFACE
It was on the 20th of August, 1864, that the Rev. Edward Hoare, on the
deck of the steamer from Boulogne to Folkestone, spoke kindly words of
sympathy to a schoolboy returning home after a great bereavement in
Switzerland. How little then could either of them have imagined the
future relationship of Vicar and Curate, the long years of happy
friendship afterwards, the deeply solemn funeral sermon, and, finally,
the sacred task of editing the Autobiography and writing the brief sketch
contained in the following pages! This work has been undertaken with the
greatest diffidence, partly owing to the many duties of a somewhat busy
life, and still more from the anxious wish that such a character as that
of Canon Hoare should be depicted by one who had known him from earlier
years. Another difficulty has been to compress the volume into the small
limits desired by the family.
To write a large volume would have been easy, but to read a considerable
correspondence, together with closely written volumes of journal, and
give a digest of their contents, has required care and thought. It has
also necessitated the putting upon one side of much that was interesting
and profitable. Amongst the things unpublished have been many powerful
letters upon various burning questions of the day during the past forty
years; most of these subjects have now burnt themselves out, and it
seemed unwise to rake up the ashes.
It is, moreover, better to say too little than too much, and those who
knew him best will acknowledge that the latter error has been avoided.
A man possessing such qualities as those which Canon Hoare
exhibited—great kindness and affection, wide views of men and things,
strong convictions, ruling powers, commanding intellect, and deep
spirituality of mind—was one who could not live without influencing
visibly all with whom he came in contact; but it has been the desire of
the Editor so to picture this life as it appeared to him, and with the
one desire that God may be glorified by the narrative as He was magnified
in the life of His servant.
J. H. T.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE AND BOYHOOD 1
CHAPTER II
CAMBRIDGE 18
CHAPTER III
RELIGIOUS STATE, AND EXAMINATION FOR DEGREE 30
CHAPTER IV
VISIT TO IRELAND, AND PREPARATION FOR HOLY ORDERS 41
CHAPTER V
ORDINATION AND FIRST CURACY 50
CHAPTER VI
RICHMOND 70
CHAPTER VII
HOLLOWAY AND RAMSGATE 92
CHAPTER VIII
TUNBRIDGE WELLS 120
CHAPTER IX
WORK IN VARIOUS PLACES 133
CHAPTER X
DOMESTIC LIFE AND FOREIGN TOURS 143
CHAPTER XI
PAROCHIAL MISSIONS 161
CHAPTER XII
PARISH WORK 173
CHAPTER XIII
THE BORDERLAND 187
CHAPTER XIV
BOOKS AND SPEECHES 198
CHAPTER XV
BLINDNESS AND SECOND ILLNESS 217
CHAPTER XVI
REMINISCENCES 251
CHAPTER XVII
PROMOTION 263
CHAPTER XVIII
TRIBUTES 267
CHAPTER I
_EARLY LIFE AND BOYHOOD_
It is a common practice amongst remarkable men to leave on record some of
the circumstances which have led to the formation of the leading features
of their character.
But as the greater part of mankind is not remarkable, I think it just
possible that some may be interested, and possibly some profited, by a
few details of the life of one whose life has not been marked by incident
so much as by abundant mercy, who has been led on step by step in the
happy life of a parochial clergyman, and who at the close of it can say
with reference to the past, “Surely goodness and mercy have followed me
all the days of my life,” and can add with reference to the future the
blessed hope and determination of David, “I will dwell in the house of
the Lord for ever.”
Of all the many mercies of my life the one that must ever stand first and
foremost is the gift of my beloved father and mother. No words can
describe the blessing of such parents, and I never can look back on the
unspeakable privilege of such a parentage without adoring the sovereign
grace which placed me under their parental care. When I observe the
carelessness of some parents, the inefficiency of others, and the
terrible training for evil to which I see multitudes of poor children
exposed, I can only adore the sovereignty of God which on June 5th, 1812,
committed me as a sacred trust to the very best of parents.
* * * * *
My father, Samuel Hoare, was a banker in the City. Both he and my
mother, Louisa Hoare, {2} had been brought up in the Society of Friends,
and had not formally left it at the time of my birth, so that I was
registered by that body, and at the time of my ordination I had to apply
to the Westminster Meeting for a certificate of my birth. But they were
both greatly influenced by the ministry of some devoted Evangelical
clergymen, such as the Rev. E. Edwardes of Lynn, and the Rev. Josiah
Pratt, and I believe it was very soon after my birth that they were
together baptised. We young people were therefore all brought up as
members of the Church of England, though, as my father never completely
lost his early Quaker prejudice against infant baptism, we were not
baptised till about the age of fifteen, when we were considered able to
judge for ourselves.
It was probably the result of his own Quaker education that my father had
a strong objection to public schools; so that his plan was to engage a
private tutor, some young man from Cambridge or Oxford, to educate us at
home till we attained the age of fifteen, and then send us to a private
tutor, preparatory to our going up to Cambridge. This arrangement
answered well so long as there were four of us boys at home, and some of
our cousins were united with us both in the schoolroom and playground;
but as the elder boys went off, there was a sad want both of healthy
amusements and intellectual stimulus for those that were left behind. I
was the third, and I remember how difficult it was for my dear brother
Joseph and myself to keep ourselves well employed when our elder brothers
Samuel and Gurney had been placed under the care of the Rev. H. V.
Elliott, the most able and gifted tutor to whom we three eldest brothers
were sent, and to whom we were all indebted far more than I can describe.
He had a wonderful power of bringing the interest of the University to
bear on the education of his pupils, and I never can forget the effect on
my own mind, for I never really worked till the day I entered his house;
but I began then, and I have never been habitually idle since. He was a
grand illustration of the principle, that the great office of an educator
is not merely to cram a boy’s head with knowledge, but to kindle a fire
in his soul, which will go on burning brightly when the tutor himself has
long since passed away.
But though there were great disadvantages in our home education, there
were also immense advantages. It was not so effective as my dear parents
hoped it would be in preserving us from impure and defiling information,
and to this day I rarely pass the back door of what used to be my
grandmother’s house without a sense of loathing at the wickedness of her
corrupt old butler, who on that spot did his utmost to pollute my boyish
mind with filthy communication.
But in many other respects I have never ceased to feel the blessed
results of those years at home. In the first place, we were all brought
under the constant influence of our father and mother. He was a man of
great strength of character, and of marvellous perseverance in all that
he undertook. He was deeply interested in the improvement of prison
discipline, and was one of the “Governors” of the “Refuge for the
Destitute.” This he used to visit once a week with the utmost
regularity, rising early so as to be able to complete his visit before
his attendance at the Bank, and I have seldom seen a more affecting sight
than when he used to ride off week after week in all weathers, even after
the Lord had laid him so low by an attack of paralysis that he could not
attempt to ride beyond a walking pace, and it was indeed unsafe for him
to ride at all; but he was a man _tenax propositi_, and nothing would
turn him from his purpose. It was his determination of character that
made him a most valuable coadjutor with his brother-in-law, Sir T. F.
Buxton, in the great anti-slavery struggle, as may be seen in the graphic
account given in the Life of Sir Fowell of the great debate which
virtually decided the question. Sir Fowell himself was a man of
courageous determination; but it was my father that, during that debate,
sat under the gallery of the House of Commons and upheld his hands by his
decided and unwavering judgment. It was a great privilege for us boys to
grow up under the influence of such a character.
Once a week, on the day of his holiday from the Bank, he used habitually
to visit the schoolroom, and hear us repeat what we had learned during
the week; and every Sunday afternoon he used to read with us some good
religious book. I fear sometimes one at least of his pupils greatly
tried his patience by supineness and inattention, but there were not then
the same interesting books for young people that there are now, and such
books as Wilberforce’s “Practical View” or Doddridge’s “Rise and
Progress” were not calculated to attract the attention of a set of boys
whose hearts were set on cricket.
Then my dearest mother was one of the most lovely women of the day.
Beautiful in countenance, gentle in her manners, pure in her thoughts,
and most loving in all her intercourse with her family, she exercised
over us all a most sacred and refining influence, and one of the most
abiding sorrows of my life has been that, when she was teaching me
something, I was so negligent that I caused her to shed a tear.
Besides that, she had great intellectual charm. First-rate men such as
Chalmers and Wilberforce delighted in her society. She was an excellent
English writer. Her letters to her sons at College are perfect models of
such compositions, and her admirable little book “Hints on Early
Education,” containing the principles on which she brought us up,
continues to this day, passing through edition after edition,
unsurpassed, if I may not say unequalled, by the many more modern efforts
to throw light on that most important subject.
It is to her that I am indebted for my first intelligent acquaintance
with the Gospel. She used to have us boys to read the Scripture with her
every morning at 7.15. Nothing can ever efface the lovely impression
made on those occasions. There she used to be by a bright fire in her
little room, in her snow-white dressing-gown, looking as pure and lovely
as was possible in woman. I fear we boys were often late and sometimes
inattentive. But I never forget one morning when she asked me if I knew
what faith was, and, finding that I was utterly ignorant, proceeded to
teach me those sacred lessons of a Saviour’s grace which have been life
to my soul from that day till now. Oh, mothers! what an opportunity you
have of sowing a seed which will never die!
Another great advantage in our home education was that we became
interested in missionary work. Drawing-room meetings were not the
fashion then as they are now, and my father and mother, without waiting
for the fashion, threw open their large drawing-room to various devoted
men. Thus we boys used to enjoy the no small privilege of becoming
personally acquainted with many of the most devoted men of the day, as
well as of being educated into an interest in missionary work.
But parental influence was not all, for one of the tutors engaged for our
instruction was the Rev. R. Davis, of Queen’s College, Cambridge, a
devoted young man, and deeply interested in the Church Missionary
Society. It was he that enlisted the interest of my father and mother,
so that I find, in turning to the report for the year 1820, the following
entry, which was the sum-total of the then Hampstead Association:—
_£_ _s._ _d._
Contributions by a few children 2 8 0
Rev. R. Davis 1 1 9
3 9 9
Having been one of those few children, I remember well the interest that
the subject excited in our minds; and as that interest never died out in
those beloved ones now gone to their rest, and as I trust it will never
do so in myself, I realise how much I owe to that young man, and I see
how much may be done by a young man who carries with him wherever he goes
the unceasing desire to be engaged in his Master’s service.
This home education was continued until I reached the age of fifteen,
when I was sent as a pupil to the Rev. H. V. Elliott of Brighton, where
my two elder brothers had been before me. Before I left home
arrangements were made for my baptism. That admirable man the Rev.
Josiah Pratt kindly undertook my instruction, and I used to ride down to
him at his residence in Finsbury Circus. He was a remarkable man, firm
in his principle, faithful to the Gospel, true to his Saviour, zealous in
Missions, and of remarkable soundness of judgment. I am not sure that he
was altogether the best instructor for a spirited lad, but I never shall
forget the venerable man, sitting on one side of the fireplace, finding,
I fear, considerable difficulty in eliciting much response from his
pupil. But I learnt one practical lesson from these interviews, which
has been a help to many a lad under similar circumstances:—I was at that
time thoroughly in earnest about my soul, and I looked forward to my
baptism with great seriousness. It was a matter for much prayer and
close examination. But my dearest mother showed me Mr. Pratt’s letters
respecting me, in which he said, “I hope there is something at the
bottom, but I find it very difficult to bring it to the surface!” How
often have I thought of these words, when I have been preparing my young
people for Confirmation; and when I have seen them nervous, agitated, and
with small development of feeling, I have thought of myself and of Mr.
Pratt’s letters, and remembered how earnest I was at the time, although
he could discover but little trace of it.
* * * * *
The day of my baptism was a very solemn one, my cousin, the late Sir
Edward Buxton, being baptised at the same time in St. Stephen’s,
Coleman’s Street, and I think it was the next day that we left our homes
together and went to Brighton, to enter upon a new mode of education. I
cannot say how thankful I am that my father sent me to Mr. Elliott. He
was a first-rate man in all respects, and he had been the means of
kindling an intellectual fire in my eldest brother, who was passing
through Cambridge at the time with high distinction. He (Mr. Elliott)
had a faculty for inspiriting his pupils for work. I had been an idle
boy until I went to him; but I had no sooner crossed his threshold than I
felt an ambition for University distinction, and lost very little time
when I was under his rule. As he took only six pupils there was the same
difficulty that we found at home in getting good play, first-class
cricket.
But there were other great advantages. There were some very choice lads
amongst the pupils, one especially whom I can never forget—namely, Henry
Goulburn. He was small in stature, but of marvellous ability: for quick
perception, clear understanding, for never-failing memory, and a power of
seeing through a subject, such as I never saw in any man. I shall never
forget his influence when he first joined us as a pupil. There was at
that time a good deal of quarrelling amongst us. There was one young
fellow who was rich, but very foolish, who became the butt of his
companions. I remember well one day, when Goulburn had just come amongst
us, and we were all like a pack of hounds upon that young fellow,
Goulburn got up from the table, walked round to him, and put his hand
upon him, saying, “I will be your friend.” That act of his had such a
power over the whole party that similar unkindness entirely ceased. I
never saw a repetition of it.
But, besides the pupils within the house, we had the immense advantage of
the friendship of Mr. Elliott’s mother and sisters, who lived close by.
That mother was one of the most charming old ladies I ever remember. She
was the daughter of Henry Venn, Rector of Yelling, the grandfather of the
late Henry Venn, Secretary of the Church Missionary Society. She grew up
amongst her father’s friends, Berridge, Fletcher, and Simeon in his early
days, and nothing could be more charming, more delightful, than her
reminiscence of the early struggle of those devoted men. It wanted a
good deal to draw me from the cricket field, but she had the power of
doing it. I could not have had a greater treat than to listen for
half-an-hour to her anecdotes.
Then again it was one of the privileges that we enjoyed at Brighton that
we attended St. Mary’s Church. Mr. Elliott’s preaching was valuable,
full of truth, and most beautiful in composition. I used to listen to it
with great interest, and from it I first learnt the great and blessed
doctrine of justification by faith, which I have had the privilege of
preaching throughout my ministry. I never can forget one sermon of his
in which he pointed out that there were three great trials of Abraham’s
faith: (1) His Call (Gen. xii.); (2) The Promise given him (Gen. xv.);
and (3) The Sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. xxii.). He then pointed out that
the first and last of these three trials involved immediate action, but
that the middle one demanded no action at the time, but required simply a
believing reception of the promise of God, and it was of it that the
statement was made (Gen. xv. 6): “Abraham believed God, and it was
counted to him for righteousness.”
There was a fresh blessing given me in St. Mary’s. It was there one
sacred day when Robert Daly, afterwards Bishop of Cashel, was preaching,
that I was led by the Spirit of God to give myself up to the ministry. I
do not remember exactly what he said; but I am sure that a permanent
impression may be often made without any distinct recollection always of
what has been uttered. So it was in my case, while that noble man was
preaching; and I there and then gave myself up to the ministry of God, as
I told him many years afterwards. I said nothing about it to anybody for
a year, because I wished my determination to be thoroughly tested. At
the end of the year I told my father. He informed me that there was a
place open for me in his Bank, but at the same time he gave his cordial
approbation; and so with his full consent and that of my dearest mother,
I regarded myself from that day as one set apart to the sacred ministry.
That must have been nearly sixty years ago, and never for one moment have
I had reason to regret the decision.
* * * * *
From Mrs. Hoare to her son at Brighton:—
“_August_ 22_nd_, 1829.
“How continually have I thought of you, dearest Edward, since you
left us, with the truest pleasure and I hope thankfulness for the
happy time we have passed together, with the greatest interest in
your present settlement and earnest desire and prayer for your
well-doing in future! You have, my love, gained the confidence and
excited the sanguine hopes of your parents, and if you do not turn
out the _decided_, _noble_, _upright_, and _effective Christian_
character, we shall be disappointed. I consider the present juncture
in your life very important. The more I consider the case, the more
I am sure of Mr. Elliott’s intrinsic value to you, and the more I am
convinced of the wisdom of giving up yourself in the present to his
wishes; if you secure his friendship, you secure a treasure for life.
In this as in every situation, you will have something to bear.
“1. Don’t stand on your own rights too much or be tenacious in
little things.
“2. Be _very slow_ in taking offence or fancying any disrespect or
want of favour is shown to you.
“3. Never _complain_ of anything to your companions.
“4. Encourage a spirit of content, and _be determined_ (there is
much in this determination of mind) to be comfortable.
“5. Promote, as far as possible, the pleasure of your companions by
yielding in little things. I believe, dearest Edward, you are
sensible that, to act with true wisdom, we must seek this precious
gift from above, and day by day ask for help and strength and grace
for the day.
“6. Write to me intimately, and the letters may be _entirely private
whenever you wish it_.
“The books could not be despatched at once. Sam says the Shakespeare
is a bad bargain, but we will talk it over again—oh how I should
enjoy a half-hour with thee over this nice library fire!”
Early Letters.
There are some interesting letters of this period, which have been
carefully preserved. The earliest of these, written when he was eleven
years old, is characteristic. It is addressed to his mother, who was
away from home, and begins with an apology for not having sent her a
letter before: this is based upon an accident at cricket, which he
describes graphically, the ball “ascending to a great height” having
fallen upon his thumb and so disabled him, etc., etc.; but the pathetic
narrative is followed by a burst of honesty—“however, as that happened
only yesterday it is not much of an excuse”! Another, a year later,
written from Ryde, after describing a boating and fishing expedition,
relates further a conversation with the boatman, whom they saw doing
something to the dogfish that they had caught. “He replied” (and here
the young scribe phonetically renders the local pronunciation), “‘O Lar,
I’m only tormenting ’em.’ We asked, ‘Why?’ ‘Because ’em has a pisonous
prick on ’em’s back.’ We asked him how they could help that. ‘Oh, I
knows ’em needn’t have it if ’em didna like!’”
The letters that follow were written from Brighton, and describe his
arrival at Mr. Elliott’s house, and sundry events that took place from
time to time; they are full of affection to his mother, and abound
likewise in touches of humour, but they show also a diligence and
steadiness of purpose, and a liking for good things, remarkable in a boy
of that age. Subjoined are a few extracts as specimens:—
“I suppose Jack told you of the famous hunt we had the other day when
we were going out riding and met the hounds, half by accident? We
had a run of above an hour, and the hounds were in full cry all the
time; but, alas! the other day a bill came in from the horse-keeper,
which informed us that we were to pay a pound for each of the horses
because we had been with the hounds. . . . I like Abercorn {15} very
much, but he is excessively idle, as my shoulders will bear witness,
as it is his great delight to get up and thump Ted Buxton and me on
the shoulders; but fortunately he is tired of hitting me, as I repay
the blows tenfold with a singlestick, and the consequence is that
poor Ted gets double his former allowance.”
“We have capital walks on the Downs almost every day, which are very
pleasant, and capital exercise, as we go a considerable distance; the
other day we went nearly to the Dyke. Before seven [a.m.] we three
have delightful readings together—we have nearly done Matthew; at
seven we come down and read till breakfast, and after that till two;
we then go out for our walk till dinner. . . . On Thursday we are to
have our debate about the battle of Navarino, in which I am going to
be exceedingly eloquent—only there is one great barrier to my
eloquence, which is that I can think of nothing to speak about.
Robert and Jack are going to attack the battle; and Ted, Abercorn,
and I are going to defend it. I think they have got much the best
side.”
This extract, written in a boyish hand, is dated February 19th, 1828.
The next, on October 4th in the same year, is remarkable for its
transition into the formed hand of the young man, and its resemblance to
the writing of all his later years. He was then sixteen. The letter is
full of manly thoughts, kind sympathy for some relatives in trouble,
great thankfulness to God for restoring him to health after an illness,
and then the schoolboy reappears towards the close as he longs for a
share in the partridge-shooting which his father and elder brothers were
enjoying at that time, and “the plumcake after church, and then the walk
on the lighthouse hills” at Cromer, concerning which he winds up by
saying: “I do not know two things that live so pleasantly in my mind.
How far superior to all the strutting finery of Brighton!”
The letters written during his residence in Brighton show that Mr.
Elliott, besides being a very kind tutor, had the gift of inspiring his
pupils with great diligence and love for their work. The year 1830 was
the last spent under his roof, and they testify to a great deal of hard
reading, with the University constantly in view.
At the end of a letter dated “Brighton, September 20th, 1830,” young
Hoare writes:—
“I may tell you that this is the last letter you are ever likely to
receive from me from Brighton. My two years and a half (that but
yesterday I thought would never end) are now nearly come to a close;
I am sure if I had time I ought and could write a long letter of
gratitude to you and my father for having given me such opportunities
of improvement. Oh that I had made full use of them! what a capital
fellow I should be! At all events, of this I am quite certain, that
if your sons turn out either rascals or blockheads (the latter of
which I fear is the case with the third {17}), it can never be laid
to your charge. And so, with regard to the course we are now likely
to enter upon, I feel that every reason which ought to influence a
person in the strongest degree binds me to read with thorough
diligence and perseverance, and I only trust that I may be enabled to
show my gratitude for your kindness by taking thorough advantage of
it.”
“O si sic omnes!” is the thought that rises to the mind after perusing
these schoolboy letters; they contain the germs of all the
characteristics that made Edward Hoare the power that he afterwards
became—manliness, gentleness, remarkable diligence, reverence for
religion and the Bible, a loving and thankful spirit, and, last but not
least, a keen sense of the humorous side of things.