“Here I am a scholar of Trinity safe and sound, as the master calls it ‘discipulus juratus et admissus,’ and not a little pleased am I at the thought. But what pleases me most of all is that, so far from being last of all, as our list declares, I have come in very high on the list. I do not know exactly where I am, but, as you wish for all the reports, I tell you one which I don’t quite believe, which is that I was the second in both years. I beat all the third year, and all my own except the great lion Stevenson, and I got within a respectable distance of him, and Peacock says I have gained upon him since the last examination, whereas I never expected to get within miles of him. In fact I am altogether happier than I can express, and really think that I never spent so joyful a night and day in all my life.”
Referring to this success his father writes again:—
“Hampstead, May 8th, 1832.
“My dear Edward,—Of advice and congratulations you will partake abundantly without an addition from me, but your mother wishes me to write, what I have no doubt Sam has already written. What may be the best course for you to pursue I have not made up my mind, but as you are at Cambridge it is as well to remind you that a man may be happy without mathematics, and that the glory of being Senior Wrangler (supposing the possibility of such an event) may be purchased at too high a price. I attribute the greatest proportion of your late honours to solid understanding and reading, some part to good luck or accident. Had you not then better see the result of the class examination before you take the plunge? With the blessing of God you will be rooted more deeply than ever now in all our hearts, and, what is far beyond extending growth here, you attain that eminence which is quite out of the sound of wrangling.
“I am most affectionately yours,
“S. Hoare.”
A few days later he receives the news of the sudden death of a relative, Mr. Powell, [24] and various letters describe the effect that this event had upon him. His sympathy was warmly expressed for all the mourners; and then, as was natural to a thoughtful mind, the remembrance of the shortness of life made itself felt. Strong and athletic as he was, he too might be cut off suddenly: was he ready for the call?
But his recent success at the scholarship examination, and his future hopes, seem to have had a strange light thrown upon them by this bereavement, and he began to ask himself the question which some of us have had to face in hours of success or failure—“What are College honours? Are they an end, or only a means?” He writes thus:—
“I never felt so strongly as I do now the utter worthlessness of the objects at which I have been aiming with so much zeal. What does it signify whether I am fourth, fifth, sixth, or anything else in this examination, when at one stroke all one’s honour and all one’s learning may be dashed from you? It has impressed me very strongly with the feeling that to read because it is my duty and because it is an admirable preparation for after-life is a glorious object, but to read (as I must confess I have done) for a place and a place only, and slur over higher things for it, is indeed vanity of vanities.”
The summer of 1832 was spent with a reading party in Wales. The start was made from Highgate, where the coach “Wonder” took in its passengers and conveyed them to Shrewsbury “with wonderful rapidity,” the journey commencing at 6.40 a.m. and the destination being reached at 10.30 p.m., or one hundred and fifty-six miles in nearly sixteen hours!
Thence sometimes on coach, sometimes on foot, they made their way to Llangollen, Llanrwst, Conway, and Bangor. The beautiful suspension bridge was an object of immense interest. The travellers went over to the Anglesea side, and down into the chambers and passages of the rock where the chains are fixed that uphold the structure; the letter recounting this visit contains diagrams descriptive of it all, showing the fascination that it exerted on the mind of the writer. Various accounts of the magnificent scenery fill pages in these interesting letters, and also allusions to the kindly way in which Welsh tracts were taken by the people, and the excited gratitude which the gift sometimes caused. At last Barmouth, the “ultima Thule” of their wanderings, was reached, lodgings were taken, and the party set steadily to work.
They were fortunate in the parish clergyman, whose name was Pugh, and young Hoare’s letters often speak with gratitude of the guidance from above which led them into the parish of this excellent man. Michaelmas Term found them back at Cambridge, and now his younger brother Joseph [26] joined the party, and Edward’s feelings with regard to his duties towards him are expressed in a letter to his mother, of which nearly the whole is taken up with a loving interest in his brother’s plans and prospects. He writes:—
“I most earnestly hope that I may be able to assist him, and, what is far more, that he may have that far better assistance which can alone be all-sufficient. . . . I have had a most happy vacation, and cannot say how I have valued it. I only trust that I may be able to repay a hundredth part of your and my father’s kindness to me by fraternal affection towards Joe. My motto with regard to him is—
“‘Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown proposed as things forgot.’”