_VISIT TO IRELAND_, _AND PREPARATION FOR HOLY ORDERS_
When a young man distinguishes himself by taking a brilliant degree, the
question is asked, “What profession is he going to adopt?” No doubt many
were curious to know how Edward Hoare intended to make use of the talents
that he possessed and the position which he had attained, and the
following letter to his father, dated “May 17th, 1834,” supplies the
answer:—
“. . . Now as to plans. With respect to the opening in business, I
feel quite satisfied in declining it entirely. I am well aware that
it might lead to an extensive field of usefulness and to many and
great advantages in every point of view, but still I have long looked
to the Church as my profession, and feel every day more and more
decided in my desire to devote myself to it; and I earnestly hope
that I may be strengthened in the feeling, and that when, if ever, my
hopes should be realised, I may be taught to be a useful minister
both to myself and others.”
In reply his father writes as follows:—
“Your letter conveyed the intelligence which I fully expected to
receive. I have only to pray God to bless you and make you a bright
and shining light in His sanctuary.
“You have chosen the better part, and I confidently hope and expect
that a blessing will rest upon it, and although you may not be
blessed with the fat of the land, that you will be with the springs
of living water springing up into everlasting life.”
This was a distinct turning his back upon wealth, and perhaps social or
even future Parliamentary distinction; but he had made up his mind. “The
joy of the ministry” was the object of his young life, and surely
thousands have had good reason to thank God for his choice, for thousands
by his means have become sharers in that joy.
He did not, however, seek ordination at once. Being still too young for
Holy Orders, and having been strongly urged to read for a Fellowship, he
determined to set to work for another year of diligent study, and
arranged at once to take a reading party of undergraduates to Killarney
for the summer.
Many entertaining letters describe this period. We are rather alarmed in
these days by the Race to the North between the trains of rival railway
companies; the same spirit was not unknown sixty years ago, and showed
itself in racing coaches!
The first letter describes such an event: two opposition coaches raced
down a Welsh valley; one passed the other at full gallop, but soon began
to sway fearfully, and at last went over with a terrible crash.
Providentially and most marvellously no one was injured; had it happened
a few yards farther on several lives would have been lost. Our
travellers were deeply thankful for their escape, and proceeded on their
journey _viâ_ Holyhead to Dublin, and thence, after a short stay in the
Irish capital, which they much admired, travelled southwards to the
famous lakes. The exquisite scenery made a great impression upon the
young Englishmen. “Fairy-land” was the first brief summary of opinion,
and they agreed that it had surpassed all their expectations.
Great thankfulness is expressed frequently for the excellent parish
clergyman, Mr. Bland, and his sermons are often described with interest.
All were reading steadily, but frequent excursions were made, and rowing,
fishing, and climbing of mountains kept them well occupied. One
difficulty not met with on former occasions was the great hospitality of
the surrounding gentry, who would have entertained them at dinners and
balls every evening of the week if they had been disposed to go. Some of
the young men could not resist the social charms of the place, and their
chief writes a little despondently of the responsibility upon him of
managing so large a party. He does not shrink from it, however, and the
first letter mentions the regular “family reading” every day, to which
they invited their landlord and his family. The condition of the poor
Celtic population around served to excite at different times feelings of
amazement, humour, and almost of disgust. It must be remembered that
some considerable changes have taken place in the manners and customs of
the poor of Ireland since then; still much that is said in the following
letter is true, not only of that neighbourhood, but also of large
portions of the South and West; and yet, as he used often to remark in
later years, this ignorant, pauperised, and superstitious population have
proportionately more representatives in Parliament than the intelligent
artisans of England!
“I had no idea of such want of comforts. You may travel for miles
and yet meet with scarcely any one whom a Brewhouse Lane pauper would
condescend to speak to. I do not complain of their having no shoes
and stockings, because that is not their misfortune but their choice,
but what few clothes they have are a mere bundle of rags: you see
women about in worn-out men’s coats, and the men do not cast them off
till no strings can hold them together any longer. And then their
cabins! you never saw such places; they generally consist of one
room, though sometimes there are two. In the better sort there is a
hole in the side by way of a window, but nowhere any glass in it;
then there is a large aperture above the fire, which I believe is
intended for a chimney, but the smoke decidedly prefers to proceed
(after it has spent some time with its masters) by the more
fashionable entrance of the door. This is a great convenience, as
they smoke all their dried meat on the ceiling instead of in the
narrow passage of the chimney. Their furniture consists of perhaps a
table, two or three low chairs, a long box which serves for a bed for
two or three by night and a seat by day, and a long bench for the
younkers. Besides this there is some straw in one corner for those
of the family who have no room in the box, and in another for the
pigs; a large coop to fat the young chickens in, and some bars across
the top which serve to dry the hams on and as roosting poles for the
hens. In the third corner they may stow a young lamb, and in the
fourth throw a heap of potatoes. I went to a place arranged as I
have attempted to describe. At first I could not see for the smoke,
but was soon told that if I were to stoop low enough I could breathe
if not see; I accordingly sat me down on the low form, and when I was
accustomed to the darkness I perceived the form of my hostess,
bustling about with no shoes or stockings, and scolding hard at all
the little urchins. Then there ensued a conflict with the pig, who
could not understand on what grounds he was to be excluded, more
especially when he saw the woman pour out a whole pot of hot potatoes
on the table, and give a basin of goat’s milk to each of us, which I
can assure you that we and the chickens feasted on with no
inconsiderable relish. Now for mathematics!
“Your most affectionate Son,
“EDWARD HOARE.”
Men who have not forgotten the sensations of College life will recollect
the rapid way in which age accumulates at the University! This comes out
amusingly in some of the Killarney letters, _e.g._:—
“There could not be a place better suited to our purpose, nor a party
better suited to each other; the worst of it is I feel such an old
man in comparison to the other two. Still we get on uncommonly
well.”
And again:—
“I am not reading hard, for we have all agreed that, as we have come
so far, we will see the country well, and that I am too old and the
others too young to fatigue ourselves with reading.”
A vast gap of about two years separated the leader of this reading party
from his juvenile companions, and though the outer world may not
recognise much difference between young fellows of twenty and twenty-two,
University men will recognise at once the historical accuracy of the
feeling and its expression! It is very hard to put aside all the amusing
letters written at this time, with their picturesque descriptions of the
exquisite scenery, their accounts of duck-shooting and stag-hunts and
expeditions of various sorts, and their droll description of novel
experiences in his present surroundings. The following extract from a
letter to one of his sisters must suffice as a specimen:—
“I must tell you of our evening yesterday. I was reading away as
hard as could be when I heard the bagpipe in the next room. I found
it was Gandsey, the celebrated piper, and all the village crowded
into the house to hear. However, the ladies who had him would shut
the door, because, as our landlord said, ‘one of them was a dumpey,’
_i.e._ deformed, and did not wish to be seen, so that we were
disappointed. When he had done with them we thought that we must
give ourselves and all the listeners a treat, so we said he must play
for us too; and as our room was not large enough for the party, we
adjourned to the kitchen, which, though a large room, was soon as
full as it could comfortably hold. We had several famous tunes, to
the great delight of all parties. As I felt my own feet quite
a-going with the music, I proposed that those who wished should have
a dance. We soon had some volunteers, and a famous Irish jig was the
consequence. The partners were to me so un-tempting, as by far the
best was the cook-maid, that, though I longed to dance too, my pride
would not come down, and I looked on. Upcher and Merivale, however,
danced hard with two of the maids, but they could not learn the jig,
so the latter gave up. Upcher, however, went on with more
perseverance than skill. But I can assure you it was a grand scene—a
fine old blind man, the best piper in Kerry, playing with all his
might, and the more active dancing in the middle of the room to
correspond, and, if any by chance had a pair of shoes, taking them
off to be the more active; while all along the walls were the ragged
Irish watching the dance and sucking in the music with the greatest
animation. Now just think what a difference there is between our two
situations: you sitting quietly in the comfortable library with my
father and mother, and I giving a ball in the kitchen, with nothing
but a clay floor and naked walls; with scarcely another sound coat in
the room except our own!”
The summer at Killarney passed pleasantly, and October found the
travellers back at Cambridge, Edward Hoare reading steadily for
fellowship, but with a growing desire for the work of the ministry
evidently uppermost in his thoughts. There are hardly any letters at
this period, but his journal is full of the holy aspirations of the young
man’s heart.
The following June (1835) found him at Keswick intent upon his studies,
and at the same time full of increased longing to help others in
spiritual things. Writing thence to his mother, he alludes to a brief
visit to his rooms at Trinity, where he spent a busy week preparing and
collecting papers to take with him. Almost all his old friends were
gone, but his influence had reached men of junior standing, and the
consequence was—
“I was quite delighted and touched by the warmth of affection which I
received there. Goulburn and Merivale were both out, but I could
compare my reception to nothing but the prophet’s in Israel. I
thought there were no friends left, but there were nearer seven
thousand, and most affectionate they were. Mr. Simeon especially was
full of love and kindness; he spoke of you with the deepest interest,
and said he longed to see you, and that he thought he could be a help
to you as the messenger of the Gospel; and he spoke to me most
beautifully about the Three Persons of the Trinity all assuming to
themselves at different times the character of our Comforter, as also
upon the fellowship existing between Christians through the Saviour.”
In the same letter, speaking of Keswick, he writes:—
“I regard this opportunity as likely to be one of great usefulness,
and I look forward with great pleasure to the prospect of quiet
repose, withdrawn from all active service, as a preparation of my own
mind and a thorough sifting of the foundations, before I enter upon
the more active duties to which I trust it may please God before long
to call me.”
He was not content with mere meditation, however. Being desirous to give
some help to the parish clergyman, he was asked to take some cottage
lectures in a neighbouring farmhouse. As an old man he often referred
with great joy to this time as the beginning of his ministry. The
farmhouse was an old building with low rooms, having great deep beams
running across the un-ceiled kitchen. The tall young figure could not
stand erect in the low-pitched room, except by _fitting his head between
the beams_!
But the difficulty and humour of the scene were both forgotten in the
sight of the crowded, attentive listeners, and the evident signs of the
presence of the power of the Holy Spirit in the midst. Long, long
afterwards Canon Hoare revisited the place, found the farmhouse, entered
the very room, and was overjoyed to meet some who had never forgotten the
addresses of the earnest young collegian more than fifty years before.