From Mrs. Hoare to her son at Brighton:—
“August 22nd, 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.”