A little book published at this time [268] contains in full all that was said and done with reference to him who had passed away. There are to be found in it the funeral sermons preached all over the town, in church and chapel alike, as well as sketches of his character and career in their special bearing upon the town, whose particular reputation had been so much formed by him. It is a touching tribute of affection and respect, and is well worthy of perusal.
Hundreds of letters poured in upon the bereaved family, from all parts of England, and indeed from the ends of the earth. Extracts from these interesting tributes of affection would form of themselves a volume; it is therefore impossible to give them to the reader, but all testified with one voice to the esteem and admiration in which he was held by those who differed from him, and to the warm love and devotion which he inspired in all who knew him, and whom he had guided into the ways of peace. One expression may be mentioned which was overheard in the conversation of two gentlemen on the day of the funeral (one of them a man of light and leading in the world). Said the first, “We ne’er shall look upon his like again,” to which the other made reply, “Did we ever see his like before?”
The beautiful letters which follow, written on the day of Canon Hoare’s death, speak for themselves:—
“Lambeth Palace, S.E., July 7th, 1894.
“My dear Miss Hoare,—One word only of intense sympathy; but intense in something which swallows up sorrow.
“No one will ever have looked more joyfully on the face of Christ in Paradise.
“Sincerely yours,
“E. W. Cantuar.”
“Lambeth Palace, S.E., July 7th.
“My dear Miss Hoare,—The news has this moment reached us, and I cannot resist sending you one word of deepest sympathy. I know the Archbishop will write for himself, but the thought of the beauty into which that holy and beautiful spirit has entered lives in one so, and in spite of all your personal sorrow and loss I cannot help feeling that you are living in that thought now.
“You know how we loved him—how could we help it!—and that we do know something of all he was and is and how the joy of the Lord has been the breath of his life; and so we may give thanks with you, may we not? though the heart must ache and the grief be keen. I must not trouble you more—God bless and keep you.
“Affectionately yours,
“Mary Benson.”
Notices of Canon Hoare’s death and sketches of his life, longer or shorter, appeared in countless newspapers in England, America, and Australia. The Record published several articles upon his career and influence in the Church of England. One of the most happily written appeared in the columns of the Guardian under the familiar initials “B. F. S.”
Few in the diocese of Canterbury had better knowledge of the man whom he described than the dignitary who penned those lines.
(From “The Guardian”)
In Memoriam.
Edward Hoare.
“By the death of Canon Hoare the Evangelical party in the Church of England loses, perhaps, its doughtiest champion in our generation. But long before his death experience and advancing years had so suffused his views with catholicity that he was even more conspicuous as a pillar of his Church than as the leader of a party.
“Born in a family in which piety was a tradition, and predisposed by his Quaker blood to think little of public opinion where it came into conflict with convictions, he inherited a vigour of mind and body of which he early gave proof when, as stroke of the Second Trinity boat, he raised it to the head of the river, and became a high Wrangler. But though a Fellowship at Trinity was fairly within his reach, he entered at once into the active duties of the ministry to which he had devoted himself, and thenceforth his energies were wholly bent on pastoral work, though not to the exclusion of the Mission cause abroad and the furtherance in England of those views which he believed most faithfully to reflect the mind of its Church. To the successful study of mathematics he doubtless owed the habit of boldly pressing his principles to their logical conclusions, undisturbed by those many side-issues which often perplex minds less vigorously trained in the exact sciences; though in his case a sturdy common sense and native shrewdness did not suffer him to be betrayed thereby into practical mistakes, while his large and loving heart would never permit the strongest of his opinions to impair his affection for men whose conclusions differed from his own, if they were otherwise worthy of it.
“It was on a foundation thus broad and solid that his commanding personality was built up, becoming a tower of strength to those who resigned themselves to his religious guidance, and attaching marvellously by its strength and sweetness converts to the religious principles which he held and advocated. How important a place he held at his best in the esteem of his neighbours those will remember who witnessed the universal demonstrations of sympathy when his life was in danger from Roman fever, and the whole town was quivering with anxiety lest they should lose one whom they could so ill spare. And though the wane of his physical powers and the inevitable changes of a watering-place population may have narrowed the circle of his influence towards the last, the striking demonstrations of respect which marked his funeral bore witness not only to the deep attachment of his own congregation, but also to the widespread conviction of his brother-clergy and of all the country-side that a shining light had been quenched, whose witness for God had penetrated far beyond the range of his personal ministrations.
“Of the endeared relations between him and his congregation, who had looked up to him for spiritual direction for over forty years, only those within the magic circle of that pastoral connection could form an idea. The well-spring of personal affection which flowed forth from his loving heart towards the humblest of his flock was repaid by a personal devotion which might have proved injurious to a weaker character, less firmly rooted on the rock of truth. But there was an element of generous appreciation in a remark let fall at his funeral, that there was probably no more ‘personally conducted’ congregation in England than that of Trinity Church, Tunbridge Wells.
“But on wider platforms Canon Hoare’s ascendency of character had been in his time not less conspicuous. In his own ruri-decanal meetings, in which he continued to take part up to within a few weeks of his death; in the diocesan conferences, at which only a year ago he bore his solemn and memorable testimony to the value of Church Schools; and at Church Congresses, where he was ever ready to step gallantly into the breach in defence of the principles of the Church which he thought to be assailed,—in these various fields of encounter the manliness of his advocacy, set off by his manifest sincerity, and by his charity towards those who differed from him, commended itself to the admiration even of those who remained unconvinced by his arguments.
“But his own pulpit was undoubtedly the vantage-ground from which he most effectively did battle for his Master’s cause. Armed with a forcible, lucid, and winning mode of address, with an incomparable command of Holy Scriptures, transparently in earnest, and known of all men to live the life he preached, by the elevation of his religious character no less than by voice and gesture, ‘he drew his audience upward to the sky.’ Even after his eyesight failed him, and he could with difficulty mount the pulpit steps, he continued to the last, like the Apostle of love, to deliver his Master’s message. And who shall say in how many hearts it found an echo among that changeful congregation, and in what remote parts of the world a generation which knew him not have been taught by their parents to call his name blessed? His beloved Mother Church has lost no more loyal, wise, persuasive, heavenly-minded son and servant—no more trusty guide of souls from earth to heaven—than our modern ‘Greatheart,’ Edward Hoare.”