Saint or Scoundrel 14

April 5, 1864

This has been such an eventful weekend. My sister Ann came to see me on Sunday. With her, came her husband, James Simister and his cousin, called James Jackson. I had met James at Ann’s wedding, but didn’t really feel that I knew him, but he is a good-looking man of 39. He
seems very shy and quiet. He works as a printer in Manchester. His wife died in childbirth in December of last year, leaving him with five girls, the oldest only 12 - and he obviously needs someone to take his wife’s place. Ann, hoped that he might find me acceptable as a wife, so this visit was a chance for us to become reacquainted.

I must admit that I had given up any hope of marriage or of having children on my own. As I am now forty-three, I have almost reached the stage where it would be impossible for me to carry a child. I can only think that this is a gift I must not dismiss too quickly.

I have agreed to go to visit James and meet his children at their home in Manchester next Sunday after church.

Needless to say, if I did marry, I would have to give up this position which I love, and I would have a whole new set of tasks - carrying for a husband, looking after a household of young children, cleaning, cooking, etc. None of these things have I done before, except on the very small scale as was necessary to keep my room here in order. At home we three sisters shared in all the household tasks so they never seemed overwhelming.

But I think what worries me most, is that if I marry soon, and the impression I got was that
James was in a hurry, I will probably never finish my book. I could not expect to carry on a correspondence with Teddy once I am a married woman. I have thought of little else but my book, apart from work, since I started on this enterprise, and it will be very difficult to give it up. But if I refuse James, I most likely will never have another chance like this again.

I will include a short passage from Teddy’s book that I greatly enjoyed about how the natives
first came upon the horse.

“As I had got a mile of two in advance of the pedestrians, and rode fast along the last part of the beach, I was not seen by the inhabitants of the pa until close to the river. Then they ran down on to the beach. By this time I had plunged into the river, which here flows over soft and shifting sands. The horse’s body was nearly hidden; and though many of my old friends here had recognized me, and shouted, “Tiraweke! - Haeraemai!” they evidently thought that a native was carrying me on
his shoulders. There were now nearly a hundred natives collected, many of whom had never seen a horse before, crowding over each otherto give me the first greeting.

With two or three vigorous plunges, the horse suddenly emerged from the water, and bore me into the middle of them. Such a complete panic can hardly be imagined. They fled yelling in all directions without looking behind them; and as fast as I galloped past those who were running across the sandy bank up the steep path leading to the Pa of Tihoe, they fairly lay down on their faces, and gave themselves up for lost. Half-way up the hill I dismounted, and they plucked up courage to come and look at the “Kari nui,” or “large dog.” The most amusing questions were put to me as to its habits and disposition. “Can he talk?” one said; “Does he like boiled potatoes?” said another; and a third, “Must he have a blanket to lie down at night?” This unbounded respect and admiration lasted
all the time that I remained. The horse was taken into the central courtyard of the Pa; a dozen hands were always offering him Indian corn, and grass, and sow-thistles, when they had learned what he
really did eat; and a wooden bowl full of water was kept constantly replenished close to him. And little knots of curious observers sat round the circle of his tether-rope, remarking, and conjecturing, and disputing, about the meaning and intention of every whisk of his tail or shake of his ears.”

Now the next letter from Mr. Wakefield to my father.

December, 1839

Dear Daniel,

During the time I was absent in Canada, the New Zealand Association
introduced a Bill into Parliament, but it was rejected. Before I
returned the Association had decided to reconstitute itself as a
joint-stock company. In March I was made director of the New Zealand
Company and took up residence at the Company's headquarters. We have
the slogan, "Possess yourself of the Soil and you are Secure".

I organised the preliminary expedition, under my brother William,
assisted by my son, Teddy who was so very useful to me in Canada. The
object is to establish a wealthy, civilised society.

The company purchased a ship called the Tory. We had a bit of trouble
finding a captain, but managed to get Main Chaffers who had been
sailing master on the HMS Beagle during its circumnavigation. The
ship left on May 5, and called at Plymouth to complete the fitting
out. I was so worried that the Government would stop our sailing that
I went down there and advised their immediate sailing. They finally
left on 12 May.

They reached New Zealand ninety six days later. The plan was for them to
prospect sites for settlement and buy land from the Maoris. They have
done this from a local Maori chief, Te Puni, and they have identified
a site in the harbour of Port Nicholson and more settlers will be
arriving there next year.

Teddy writes back wonderful letters of his adventures in great detail. I
have advised him to keep a daily journal of everything that happens,
which will be of use to him if he ever wants to write up his story as
a book.

Best to you and your family for 1840.

I remain your friend,

Edward Gibbon

 
 

May, 1864

I was expecting to hear from Teddy’s Aunt Catherine again, and now I have. She has invited me to spend a weekend at their vicarage in Stoke by Nayland. I asked my employer, Mr. Balshaw, if I could have a long weekend, considering the distance involved, and he has agreed that I can leave here at 8.25 a.m. Saturday next, and return on Monday, at 9 p.m. It is a very circuitous route - from Manchester to London and then I have to get to another station within London. From there I get a train to Colchester. Another change of trains to the little town of Bures, and from there I will hire a man with a horse and cart to take me to the Torlesse household at their vicarage.

I have decided to marry James. His family were very pleasant to me, and the little ones I found very endearing. Elizabeth is the eldest, at 12, followed by Sarah 9, Caroline 6, and Frances and Harriet who are twins, aged 3. Elizabeth has been doing most of the care of the children for the last few months, and has had to give up her schooling. I will not find it hard to love them and take care of
them. James is very pleasant to me, and I must not expect him to be as enthralled with me as if this was not really, in effect, a marriage of convenience for us both.

I must now write what will be perhaps my last letter to Teddy, telling him of my intentions, and that I will no longer be able to correspond with him. I hope he will reply before I get married which we have
tentatively set for Christmastime. However, I will be spending most of my Sundays with James and the girls from now on, not including this next weekend, so will have very little time to continue my book. However, I could not pass up the opportunity to meet Edward Gibbon Wakefield’s sister, and to find out all that I can about him, whether I finish my book or not.

Altrincham

3 May, 1864

Dear Teddy,

Thank you so much for your last letter. I enjoyed immensely hearing about your city of Christchurch and how it has been settled. I would love to know more about it, as well as any things you might add to the story about your father, if you feel up to it. However, I have taken up your sister’s offer and will be travelling to Stoke by Nayland next weekend and hopefully will find out a bit more about your father then.

I fear that my book writing project as well as my correspondence with you will soon come to an end. I have agreed to marry a man called James Jackson, who has recently become a widower with a large family. I will not have the time to indulge myself in my writing as I have in the past few years, and although I shall miss it very much, I decided that I wanted to be married more than I wanted to be an authoress. However, Mr. Jackson works as a printer, so I have not altogether given up the idea of your father’s story being finished and printed. Only I know that I must not have that as a priority in my new life.

You asked me to tell you a bit more about myself, so I shall do that now.

Altrincham has only been my home for the past few years. Previously, my three sisters and I lived with our father Daniel, and owned a general grocer and fruiter's shop. When he died, we three sisters continued to run it until both Ann and Mary got married, and I had to find other work to do. I became an assistant postmistress here under John Balshaw, and as well as dealing with post office matters, we have a tobaccanist shop. My earlier hopes for getting my book published lay with Mr. Balshaw’s Uncle Charles and Cousin Thomas who are printers, bookbinders, book sellers, stationers and have a circulating library, from which I have borrowed many a book over the years.

George Street, where I live, is right in the centre of Altrincham, not far from St. George’s Parish Church, built in 1799. It is a lovely old town - with some beautiful buildings in it. I’ll pretend I am
taking you on a walking tour around the main places of interest.

Old Market Place, which is laid out in cobbles, I am told, became a medieval trading centre, created in 1290. A number of the buildings have medieval timbers and were built on narrow burgage plots. This is a plot of land on which a burgess's house was usually built and they were 33 feet wide by 82.5 feet deep.

They were built gable end on to the road and several bays deep to maximise the plots per street, each bay being 16 feet deep. All the original houses were built of timber with wattle and daub, with their main room open to the rafters and thatched.

The Buttermarket is in the middle of Old Market Place In the past, all sellers of butter and cheese were compelled to bring their wares here.

Over the Buttermarket is the courtroom with a lock-up at the side until 1838. There were also a stocks and a whipping post. Public floggings, eg for stealing, took place here until the early in this century. In front of the Buttermarket is the Market Cross, where intending brides and grooms had to declare their intentions. (We will not keep up this custom.)

Have you read the book by Thomas de Quincey, ‘Confessions of an English Opium Eater’? He described Old Market Place in 1814 as he travelled by stage coach from Manchester to Chester.

The Unicorn is a mail coaching inn, with livery stables and is used as an Excise Office. The stagecoach from Manchester to Chester calls each morning and delivers the post and newspapers. It is said that Guy Fawkes was carried wounded from Malpas through Altrincham to Ordsall
Hall, Salford.

On the Church Street side of the Old Market Tavern is the Old Town Hall with its clock tower. It was built by the Earl of Stamford in 1849. It sits on a burgage plot which previously contained the Unicorn
stables.

The Orange Tree Public House consists of two ancient timber buildings with wattle and daub in the interior. To the south of the Orange Tree is a shop, then the Horse & Jockey Inn and then the Red Lion Inn.
In his novel ‘Peveril of the Peak’ Sir Walter Scott, who had friends in the area, named a pub in ‘Altringham’ as ‘The Cat and Fiddle’, another name for The Red Lion, which had housed
Jacobite troops in 1745.

Peel Terrace on the north side was built in the 1840s and named after Sir Robert Peel. The 1847 Mechanics Institute was a cottage/shop towards the top left and was transferred to a new building in Lower George Street in 1852 as the Free Library. You probably know all about the Mechanics Institute with its educational purpose for anyone, and it is from them that I learned all this history.

I hope you didn’t find my town too boring.

Yours faithfully,

Margaret

Here is the letter from Edward Gibbon which is so much more interesting to me now that I know more from Teddy’s own words about this period of time in New Zealand.

5 December, 1840

Dear Daniel,

By early January we had eight more ships en route to New Zealand, and
that was even before we even knew of the success of William and the
Tory expedition. I then recruited my younger brother, Arthur to lead
another expedition, this time to settle in the Nelson area at the top
of the South Island. My sister Catherine's son, Charlie Torlesse,
sailed with Arthur. It looks like our family will all be there before
long.

Though the affairs of New Zealand absorbed most of my energies I still
retain my interest in Canada and went out once again this year. I was
elected to represent the “helots” of Beaumarais in the provincial
assembly. However, I never took up the position. Do you know the word
helots? It comes from the Greek for serfs - but it isn’t me who
names them thus - but our great newspaper, the Manchester Guardian.

I am very pleased with the success of our New Zealand missions. Let me
tell you a bit more about them. Teddy writes regularly in copious
detail. The first settlement was named Britannia; it was on flat land
at the northern corner of the harbour at what is now Petone. However,
by last winter it had proved to be swampy ground and exposed to
southerly storms that swept in through the harbour entrance. So in
July this year, the settlers took themselves to Wellington in the
‘hook’ of the harbour - where there is only a small flat area but
it provided better shelter.

My son Teddy had only intended to stay a few months, but he has found it
so fascinating and is enjoying the life so much, I think he will
remain for much longer, perhaps even several years. He is a very good
liaison person with the Maori people, and has many interesting tales
to tell about his encounters with them. He mainly works with them in
land-purchasing expeditions on behalf of the company in the Wanganui,
Upper Rangitikei, Taupo and Nelson areas. You will have to get a map
of New Zealand, if you can find one, so you will be able to follow
his progress.

Teddy is my faithful and diligent lieutenant. I do not have the patience,
the skills or the talents needed on a frontier. My talents are in
visualizing dramatic plans and grandiose schemes and then persuading
other people to get involved. I suppose you could describe me as a
salesman, a propagandist and a politician. He is much more practical
and organised than I.

All the best to you and yours for 1841 from your friend,

Edward Gibbon