_RELIGIOUS STATE_, _AND EXAMINATION FOR DEGREE_
A few months after Edward Hoare took up his residence at Cambridge he
commenced to keep a journal, which practice he continued for more than
thirty years. Into its pages he poured his thoughts and communings with
God, and, as he says in different parts of the journal, he did so that,
looking back from time to time, his faith and love might be increased by
noticing the way in which God had led him.
At the same time he was determined that there should be no repetition in
his case of the grievous mistake which has been made by some well-meaning
biographers; over and over again therefore he has inscribed upon the top
of a page the word “Private”; and at the end of the first volume, written
at a time when he thought that he was very near his end, he distinctly
directs that his journal is not to be published. His wish has been
carefully observed; no one has read the journal except the editor of his
Autobiography, and he only to get a clearer view of the character which
he wishes to place before the reader, with the one object laid down in
the closing words of the volume referred to—“Let nothing be done with it
or said about it except to extol the goodness of God by the weakness of
the creature.”
It is evident from a perusal of the journal at this time that he was
dissatisfied with his spiritual state, and a letter to his mother, dated
July 21st, 1833, gives such a particular account of the remarkable crisis
through which he passed that it is here given in full:—
“You have often expressed a wish that I would write you a full and
intimate letter about my own religious feelings, but I have not done
so hitherto, because I lament to say they were too feeble to
authorise any expression, but I have had a time of very deep interest
since my return, and I do not like to withhold it from you.
“When I arrived at home, I ought to have been smarting with a guilty
conscience, but I had succeeded in stifling things, and though I
cannot say I felt irreligious, I was far from a Christian walk with
God. On Sunday morning Dr. Chalmers preached his sermon upon the
enjoyment and preparation for heaven, and told us that the fruition
of heaven was already begun in the Christian’s mind by the work of
sanctification and regeneration in his heart. I began to think how
this work was going on with me, but I found it so difficult to bring
my thoughts to bear upon the subject that I carried the process of
examination very little way, but that little brought a whole array of
irreligion before me. I felt that my heart was not right with God,
that I had not that love towards the Saviour, nor that detestation of
sin, which it appeared to me that any one must feel who had in truth
participated in the Christian covenant, and I was surprised and
horror-struck at finding that I had been guilty, not only of neglect,
but of some actual violations of God’s law. Still, with all this I
could not bring my mind to dwell upon its own state, and my serious
thoughts were constantly supplanted by others of a trivial nature. I
tried to go and pray as an offending sinner, but I could not collect
my thoughts, and though I daily said my prayers they were heartless
and cold, and did not at all reach the deep sensation of need which I
every now and then experienced, and I felt that I was making no
progress, though I was growing very anxious. Every now and then my
faith almost gave way, and I thought that I had resisted the Spirit
so long that God had taken it from me. Then again I thought of some
passages such as these: ‘It is the Father’s good pleasure to give you
the kingdom of life,’ and those beautiful verses in the third of St.
John, ver. 14; and I heard Dr. Chalmers’ morning reading upon the
generality of the Gospel offers, when he dwelt upon the words
‘whosoever’ and ‘every one,’ and I thought too upon the great
Sacrifice that had been made for sinners, and I had times of
alternating hope and despondency, but I was never happy because I
found I could not pray with my whole heart in faith, and I did not
think I was under the influence of the Holy Ghost. This went on till
Sunday evening. I then heard an excellent sermon from Mr. Fisk about
the enthusiasm which a Christian must feel towards God and the
Saviour, and I felt that the state of my own heart differed widely
from this description. I came home very unhappy, but even then I
could not get rid of wandering thoughts, by which I was so
discouraged that I began to think that God had cast me off. Then I
thought of the promises, especially ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’; but then I felt that
I could not number myself with them, for if really burdened with sin
I could think of nothing else. I walked about my room for a long
time and I knew not what to do, for my faith was so weak that I felt
a fear of approaching God. At last, however, I felt that I could
offer a silent prayer to Him to teach me to pray, and He heard me. I
knelt down and felt as if a thick cloud had been removed from me, and
I was enabled to approach God and entreat Him to pardon and to
sanctify me. Oh, dear mother! I cannot describe to you the joy I
experienced when I felt that God had vouchsafed once more to hear me.
“I afterwards went and told Goulburn all that I had been going
through, and was cruel enough to wake him up in the midst of his
night’s rest. He satisfied me very much upon the generality of the
promises, and I went to bed full of joy and thankfulness. The next
evening we met together and read the ‘1st Ephesians,’ and he offered
up a most satisfactory prayer that the Holy Spirit might manifest
Himself in our hearts, and I am most thankful to say I do believe his
prayer has been heard. We have continued to read and pray together
every evening, and I have found it perfectly invaluable, and I trust,
dearest mother, I have been able to cast the whole burden of sin upon
the Cross. I feel still, however, that my heart is corrupt before
God, and I feel a want of devotion towards Him, but I can pray that I
may be strengthened with might in the inner man, and I know I shall
be heard. Oh how unspeakable is the love of God! Oh may Christ
dwell in my heart by faith, that I, being rooted and grounded in Him,
may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the length and
depth and breadth and height, and to know the love of Christ that
passeth knowledge! I need not say that this letter is perfectly
private. I should, however, have no objection to my father or
Elizabeth seeing it if they wish. I will include too Sam and
Catherine, but I don’t wish anybody to be told about it.
“Believe me to be
“Your most affectionate and grateful Son,
“EDWARD HOARE.”
Just at the same time in his journal he chooses as his “text for life”
St. Peter’s words—“Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for
you.” But a great sorrow was at hand. Shortly after those lines were
written his eldest brother Samuel was struck down by a hæmorrhage, and in
less than three months he had passed away peacefully. This was a sore
trial to Edward, and his letters abound with messages of deepest sympathy
with his brother and the young wife soon to be left a widow. The words
which he writes to his mother read like the experience of an advanced
Christian, and the firm trust inspired by the “text for life” breathes
through them all. The examination for his degree was rapidly
approaching, so that study could not be neglected. This year the reading
party went to Derbyshire, and the letters thence give delightful accounts
of visits to the Peak, etc., but the coming cloud casts its shadow across
all his thoughts; yet even so faith triumphs, and passages like the
following, in a letter to his father, occur from time to time:—
“Oh what a thing it is to think that the Peace which can never be
taken away is not only bestowed upon you and upon him here, but that
if it should please God to realise our fears, it will soon be
bestowed upon him in perfection above! Sometimes when I think of his
prospects, as far as he is concerned, I can scarcely wish him well
again, and, if it were not for all of you, could almost desire to go
with him.”
On Sunday, October 23rd, 1833, the beloved brother passed away, and the
journal records that Gurney and Edward sat beside him all through the
night and to the end. Early in November Edward Hoare was back at
Cambridge. His first letter is full of sympathetic thoughts concerning
the bereaved ones at home, and it is not until the last paragraph that
there is any mention of his work; this, however, is particularly
interesting from one point of view. The great anti-slavery struggle was
nearing its climax; and, considering the prominent part which Sir Fowell
Buxton took in the movement, it was not remarkable that his nephew should
have thrown himself warmly into it. Accordingly we read:—
“I believe you were interested in my declamation. I have not got the
prize, but they put me up on the paper as having made a very good
one. The other three men, however, made better. I believe if I had
not been so hot about slavery I might have got the prize, for at the
time they expressed their great dissatisfaction at what I said about
it.”
Even as a young man he was not afraid to champion a cause which was
unpopular with some who were in authority.
As the year draws near its close he describes his position as one of
“overwrought excitement” when his mind dwells upon the approaching
examination, which gives way to “a state of despondency” as a single
thought of his sad home passes before him. Either this depression or the
natural humility of his character makes him now “expect to take a fair
second-rate degree”; when within a fortnight of the examination his mind
becomes calmer, and he is enabled to make a good forecast of the result.
“I have good reason to hope,” he writes, “for a place upon which I shall
look back with pleasure and gratification all my life. . . . My own
desire is to get into the first six wranglers, and if I accomplish that I
shall be delighted. . . . I am not sanguine, but neither am I anxious.
I desire to leave it altogether in the full assurance that I shall get
the place which is best for me, whatever that place may be.”
Surely the influence of the “text for life” is visible here! And those
who knew him in later years will remember that this was his leading
characteristic to the close of his life, making every preparation, using
every endeavour, and then leaving the issue tranquilly in the hands of
Him who “careth for you.”
Christmas Day was spent with his Uncle and Aunt Gurney, and two or three
days at the beginning of the New Year given to his home, to turn away his
mind entirely from mathematics for the last day or two before his
examination. Then two letters appear in the carefully preserved bundle,
one to his mother at Hampstead:—
“I have not time to write much, but I have the unspeakable pleasure
of telling you that I am 5th Wrangler and Robert Pryor 4th. I cannot
say how thankful and happy I feel about it.”
Written hastily, and in suppressed excitement, the date at the head of
the letter—“December 17th, 1833”—is wrong both in the month and year (as
the postmark testifies). The same day he writes more fully to his father
in London; to this letter there is no date at all. Never surely in all
his life did he make either of these mistakes again! (The postmark on
this is the same as on the former letter, viz. January 17th, 1834.)
“I have had a hard fight to-day in the bracket, the result of which
is that I am 5th Wrangler, and Pryor 4th. I cannot say what
unqualified pleasure and gratitude I feel at this result of my
College labours, and the pleasure is not a little increased at Robert
being the person to beat me; there was no person in the examination
to whom I would so willingly yield a place. I have had a hard fight
to-day in the brackets. I was well aware, from the failure I made in
two of the problem papers and the first class, that I was hard-run by
some of the men in the bracket, so that I felt rather dismayed at
finding myself with a good prospect of being 8th, whereas 6th had
been my ambition. However, I set to work steadily and well, and, as
I have since heard, gained three places, for I began at the bottom of
the bracket. Peacock is very anxious that I should go in for the
Smith’s prize, as most men of my standing generally go through that
ceremony. The list of our bracket is:—
Pryor
Hoare
Main
Bullock
Bates.”
Robert Pryor, his “twin cousin,” as he used to be called, was Edward
Hoare’s playmate from his earliest years. Educated together, together
they entered the University, and came out, as we have seen, side by side
in the list of wranglers. Pryor went in for the scholarship, but failed,
and in a letter at the time his successful cousin writes of him as
“behaving nobly,” thinking nothing of his failure, and only setting to
work twice as resolutely as before, with the happy result above noted.
Here follow letters of congratulation from the relatives with whom he
spent the Christmas before his examination. The event to which they
refer may well terminate a chapter of this book, as it certainly was the
close of an important chapter in his life.
Congratulatory letter on his success at Cambridge from J. J. Gurney:—
“NORWICH, _June_ 18_th_, 1834.
“DEAREST EDWARD,—I think it would be very flat of me not to
acknowledge the receipt of thy letter. I understand from Geo.
Peacock’s letter to Hudson that the examination took an unfortunate
turn for thee, or thou wouldst have been still higher; however, I am
sure thou art quite high enough—and we have nothing to do but warmly
to congratulate thee on thy prowess and well-earned honours.
Certainly I for one should withhold all congratulation, did I not
feel assured that thou hast aboard thy vessel plenty of good ballast
in the shape of humility, simplicity, and Christian principle.
Therein I do and will rejoice, more than in the flag of victory. I
should now advise a polite treatment of thyself—a journey—a frolic—a
good long holiday, yet not absolute idleness, which is good for
nobody.
“I am thy truly affectionate Uncle,
“J. J. GURNEY.
“My congratulations and kind regards to Rob. Pryor. I told thy
mother that I was ready to be £50 towards thy expenses, shouldst thou
take a journey—to be had at Overend’s any day, on my account.”
Congratulatory letter from his aunt:—
“UPTON, 1834,
“I must, my dear Edward, add one line of expression about my pleasure
in hearing of thy success; my only fear for thee seems to be lest
thou mayst not feel humble enough, and continue to remember from whom
thou gained thy excellent talents and powers of perseverance. To Him
thou art, I know, desirous of dedicating them. I am writing by my
dear John, who unites with us in our feeling for thee, and begs to
unite in love to thee; thou wilt, I am sure, have felt for him in
this trying relapse, but we desire to be enabled to believe it is
permitted in mercy, and the favourable recovery from the operation is
very cheering to us. Thy uncle with Sarah and Prise dined at
Hampstead yesterday; the dear circle there as well as one could
expect.
“Thy very affectionate Aunt,
“E. GURNEY.”
Letter of congratulation from his cousin:—
“UPTON, 1834.
“MY DEAR EDWARD,—We are all so much interested and delighted at
hearing of thy capital success, that a few lines must go to tell thee
how warmly we congratulate thee, and how heartily we rejoice in it;
it was most kind of thee to write and let us know of the result of
the battle; we were longing to hear, the uncertainty of yesterday’s
report being so disappointing. It is pleasant to hear of Robert
Pryor’s doing so nobly, though I must confess my cousinly feelings
would have been quite as well satisfied if you had changed places.
Kitty desired me to give her love most particularly, and to tell thee
she had set off directly to tell the Frys and the Listers about thee.
Thou wilt have heard of the great anxiety we have gone through lately
on dear John’s account; we have now the great comfort and mercy of
seeing him recovering as well as possible from this attack. The
horses are at the door for a ride, and all the party waiting for me,
so I must say no more.
“Thy very affectionate Cousin,
“S. GURNEY.”