Edward Hoare, M.A.: A record of his life based upon a brief autobiography

by Edward Hoare

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!