It was a delightful thing to see Mr. Hoare in the midst of his family. Some of us remember only the later years of his life, but the enjoyment which he then took in the company of his grandchildren was very charming to witness. Those, however, who recollect the time when his ten boys and girls were growing up around him, speak with much pleasure of the way in which he threw himself into all their feelings and pursuits, and the skill which he evinced in drawing out their characters. He tried hard, as he touchingly says in one of his letters, to be “father and mother in one.” In the bringing up of his children religion formed such a bright part of their life that allusions to it came in quite naturally into ordinary conversation. On one occasion, five years before Mrs. Hoare’s death, he makes the following entry in his journal:—
“September 19th, 1858.—Very much interested to-day by — [one of his younger boys]. I was talking at dinner about the great geological periods of creation. He said, ‘But it took place in one week.’ I answered, ‘Those days were probably long periods, as it says, “One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.”’ He said, ‘I thought that meant that with the Lord we should be so happy that a thousand years would seem like one day, they would pass so quickly!’”
How God blessed his efforts is known to all who are acquainted with his family.
The following letter refers to these happy relationships:—
“T. W., March 3rd, 1864.
“My dear Daughters,—I cannot say how often we think of you, and how pleased I was to hear of your safe arrival and enjoyment at Oxford. I know few places in all England with more objects of interest than Oxford, and I have no doubt you will thoroughly enjoy your week there. We are getting on comfortably, though I have had rather too much of clerical meetings, having one on Monday and one to-day. But I hope it has been in the Lord’s service. On Monday we went through Romans xi., and I certainly thought that the Prophetics had studied the chapter better than the Clericals. But I was quite confirmed in the exposition at the Prophetical. I suppose Annie has told you of all our home doings. We really have got on very comfortably, but it seems very strange to have seven away out of the ten. I suppose, however, if God preserves me, I must look forward to more than that in future. The course of life seems to be that a person begins alone, and then, when God gives him the blessing of such a union as I have had, the house fills year after year, till at length the tide turns and the dispersion begins, till at last sometimes the question arises who shall be the companion of the aged father. But we have not come to that yet, or near it; and when it does come, if it ever does, I am sure it will be to draw us heavenward, and wean me more and more from earth to heaven. I am sure I have been far too much tied down below. Truly I may say, ‘My soul cleaveth unto the dust’; but I think I already feel something of the weaning power, and I trust I may feel it more and more. However, I scarcely ought to write so to you; but rather to thank God for the present mercies, for the past lovingkindness, and for my dear, dear daughters, who, I am sure, do all that daughters can to make my home happy. Dear love to you both, and to your uncle and aunt.
“Your most affectionate Father,
“E. H.”
In 1864 Mr. Hoare, accompanied by a brother and two of his sons, went for a tour in Switzerland. It was on their return that the first meeting took place between the writer and his future Vicar (as has been intimated in the Preface); and Mr. Hoare used to say, with reference to the mournful circumstances connected with that day, that he often asked himself, “Why should I be permitted to bring my boys back in health and strength, while this other father brings back only one of the two who went out on their holiday?”
The following letters were written at this time:—
“My dear Girls,—We failed in catching the night train at Paris, so were obliged to come on yesterday by day to Basle, and to-day to this lovely place, which looks more beautiful than ever. I certainly think it is the most beautiful place I know in the world. To-morrow we strike into the mountains. . . . Everything thus far has prospered with us, but my heart hungers after home; and I don’t know how it is, but I always feel my loss most when I am away. I hardly knew how to bear it at Plymouth. I suppose the reason is that the thoughts are always dwelling on home and all its interests, so that all connected with it is more felt than ever. The boys are very bright and very agreeable, Edward being full of his conversation with the French, to his own great delight, and their great amusement. He travelled many hours yesterday in a carriage away from us, in order that he might ride with a large French family who had a compartment to themselves. Gurney is not so conversable, but has every appearance of being pre-eminently happy. We are now preparing to go up the Rigi for the night, and the whole party are gone to purchase alpenstocks. Would not you like to be going with us? But, oh! if it lasts so hot, I wonder how much there will be left of us when we reach the top. Dear love to all. Tell Lily I hope she will look after my garden as well as her own, and tell the bees we are getting on well, and met with excellent honey. Also you may tell — of this as the right time of year to plant some Melilotus Leucantha, and also some good strawberries. Let me know how the sunflowers are, and the rose-cuttings.
“Dearest love to all.
“Most affectionate
“E. H.”
“St. Luc, August 16th, 1864.
“My dearest Sons and Daughters,—‘Homeward Bound’ is always a pleasant sound, and so it is on this occasion, however pleasant our journey may have been, for I have been quite homesick for some days, and, like a schoolboy, have been counting the days till my return. I fully hope to be home on Saturday, but I cannot say at what time, as we have lost all reckoning as to hours. Indeed we may fail altogether, as we are acting contrary to my general rule, and propose to travel by the last train all the way from Basle, so that if anything fails at any point we shall be thrown out altogether. But I trust we shall arrive all right, and dear uncle with us. . . . I hope we may be home by the 6.20, but I cannot say positively, as I know nothing.
“I cannot say how I rejoice at the good accounts I hear from you. I have thought of you all with the utmost interest, and prayed for you with a father’s love. Tell the dear boys how pleased I have been to hear such good accounts of them. They little know how they have added to the pleasure of my journey, for if I had felt an anxiety respecting them, I could not have enjoyed even this beautiful country. Tell — and — likewise how very much I have been pleased with your report of them, and thank — and — for their letters.
“We had a splendid week last week, and many sacred remembrances of our happy journey together, and when we came to Zermatt it seemed so like old times that I could almost have looked out for you. The mountains seemed more beautiful than ever; but there they stand fixed, and know nothing of the changes that have taken place in the hearts and homes of those that look at them. But there is one thing more fixed and more permanent than they are; I mean the love of God in Christ Jesus. In it therefore we will seek to trust more and more, and I am sure He will never fail us, as He has never done yet, and we shall never be disappointed. I have accepted the Archbishop’s invitation, and I hope — will enjoy her visit. As for myself, I had sooner remain at home. But it is clearly right to go, and indeed I propose to make an effort and go out more than I have done lately. The boys send their very dear love, though they do not seem much disposed to express it on paper. That they leave to me. If any very nice person turns up who may be disposed to preach once on Sunday, it would be very acceptable; but I hope to reach home prepared.
“Dear love to all.
“Most affectionate
“E. H.”