March 26, 1857. My Dear Sir,—Your mangold is remarkably fine. I must, of course, visit Stratton, to vote for Robartes; and I do wish I could be told how far a few votes would throw out Kendall by helping Carew, then I would give the latter one. If I can contrive to call at Flexbury, I will; but Mrs. Hawker is so worried by bad eyes that she will not risk the roads. Last time we were annoyed by some rascals, who came after the carriage, shouting, “Kendall and protection!” It will be a dark infamy for Cornwall if Nick, the traitor to every party, should get in. Tom S—— has been out to-day, blustering for Nick, but, when asked what party he belonged to, could not tell. How should he? A note from M—— to-night, dated Bude, informs me that he is there. I am glad to find that, though not yet registered as a Cornish voter, his heart and wishes are for Robartes. It will always be to me a source of pride, that I was the first, or well-nigh, I think, the only clergyman in this deanery who voted for a Free-trade candidate. Yours, my dear sir, faithfully,

R. S. Hawker.

J. Carnsew, Esq.

... I cannot conclude without a word about the mighty theme of elections. When Carew’s address arrived, and I read it to Mrs. Hawker, her remark was: “It doesn’t ring well.” Nor did it. There were sneaky symptoms about it. S—— writes that “sinister influence, apart from political, has been brought to bear against Carew.” We save a breakfast by this; for Mrs. Hawker had announced her intention to give one, as she did last time, to Mr. Robartes’ voters; and I save what is to me important—a ride. When I was in Oxford, there was a well-known old man, Dr. Crowe, public officer, etc. He had risen from small beginnings, and therefore he was a man of mind. Somewhat rough, and so much the better, as old wine is. Him the young, thoughtless fellows delighted to tease after dinner in the common-room, over their wine at New College. (N.B.—The rumour used to run, that, when the fellows of the college retired from the hall, the butler went before, with a warming-pan, which he passed over the seat of every stuffed chair, that the reverend fogies might not catch cold as they sat down.) Well, one day, said a junior to old Crowe: “Do you know, Dr. C., what has happened to Jem Ward?”—“No, not I. Is he hanged?”—“Oh, no! they say he is member of Parliament.”—“Well, what of that?”—“Oh, but consider what a thing for a fellow like that to get into the House of Commons—such a blackguard!”—“And pray, young man, where should a blackguard go, but into the House of Commons, eh?”

Good-night, dear sir, good-night. Yours faithfully,

R. S. Hawker.

But Mr. Hawker’s sympathies were by no means bound up with one party. He was as enthusiastic in 1873 for the return of a Conservative member for Exeter, as he had been in 1857 for that of a Free-trade candidate for East Cornwall.

Morwenstow, Dec. 11, 1873. My dear Mr. and Mrs. Mills,—The good tidings of your success in Exeter has only just arrived in our house; and I make haste to congratulate you, and to express our hearty sympathy with Mr. Mills’ great triumph. Only yesterday Mr. M—— was here, and we were discussing the probabilities and chances of the majority. I had heard from Powderham Castle that the contest would be severe, and the run close; but every good man’s wishes and sympathies were with Mr. Mills. I hope that God will bless and succour him, and make his election an avenue of good and usefulness to his kind, which I am sure you both will value beyond the mere honour and rank. Our men heard guns last night, but could not decide whether the sound came from Bude or Lundy. But to-day I heard there were great and natural rejoicings around your Efford home. How you must have exulted also at your husband’s strong position in London, and at the School Board! He must have been very deeply appreciated there, and will, of course, succeed to the chairmanship of his district. You will be sorry to hear that Mr. R——[[22]] has disappointed us, and will not be back again until after Christmas. So, although I am so weak that I can hardly stagger up to the church, and I incur deadly risk, I must go through my duty on Sunday. Our dutiful love to you both. I am, yours ever faithfully,

R. S. Hawker.

It was his intense sympathy with the poor that constituted the Radicalism in Mr. Hawker’s opinions. A thorough-going Radical he was not, for he was filled with the most devoted veneration for the Crown and Constitution; but his tender heart bled for the labourer, whom he regarded as the sufferer through protection, and he fired up at what he regarded as an injustice. When he broke forth into words, it was with the eloquence and energy of a prophet. What can be more vigorous and vehement than the following paper, which he wrote in 1861?