Saint or Scoundrel 15

June 5, 1864

I have received a letter back from Teddy - but he wrote it before he received my second one, telling him of my intended marriage. Interesting enough, he refers to his wife in it for the first time. I
didn’t realise that he had married.

But first, I want to relate my experiences in my trip to Stoke by Nayland, and my visit with Teddy’s aunt, Catherine. She is a formidable woman, aged about 70, now, the eldest of the Wakefield
children.

The train journey was exciting in itself giving me the opportunity to see so much more of the country than I had ever imagined I would. I went from Manchester to London Euston, arriving at 2.30. I took a hansom to Liverpool Street, had afternoon tea at the Great Eastern Hotel, and then got a train at 5.30, which arrived in Colchester, and finally to the little station of Bures at 8 p.m. The station is very
small indeed and the platform is up an embankment. I had a very chatty driver for the pony and trap I hired, and he talked as we went through the entire village, across the Stour River, past Bures Church
and out the other side. We then went through some very wild, open country for about three miles, before crossing the main Colchester to Sudbury road on "Nags Corner". We then went through Nayland and then into Stoke By Nayland, turning left at The Angel, to reach the vicarage - 9 Church Lane. The church overshadows the town - a huge impressive structure - but more about that later. The vicarage, covered with ivy was not as large as I had imagined it would be, and was simply a brick house with no adornment other than the little porch over the front door. It stood so close to
its neighbour as to be virtually attached.

As I didn’t arrive until quite late in the evening, Mrs. Catherine Torlesse had left instructions
for the maid, Mary Mosely, that I was to be given tea and a cold supper in my room, and she said she would meet me at 8 the next morning for breakfast. As I had provided myself with a packed lunch and tea, I was not overly hungry, but much appreciated the hot cup of tea and cakes that were brought to my room. The room itself was quite large, but not overly furnished and looked quite lacking in wealth, and was enormously cold despite a fire having been lit. The huge casement windows let in quite a draft and I could not help but think how much more comfortable my small modest room was at home.

With trepidation, I approached the main part of the house just before 8 the next morning, and found
they were already seated at the table.

Mrs. Torlesse said, “You must be Miss Thorpe. I am sorry that we were not able to meet you last
evening when you arrived but assume that you found everything to your satisfaction.”

“Yes, thank you very much.”

“And let me introduce my family to you. This is Reverend Torlesse, my husband, and these are our daughters, Priscilla and Frances.”

“How do you do,” I said, smiling politely at each in turn. They smiled back but continued to
eat their breakfasts.

“We are always in a bit of a hurry on Sundays, as each of us have many tasks to accomplish before
the main church service at 10. Will you be coming with us?”

“Yes, I would very much like to. I noticed how imposing the church was as we entered the village
last evening.”

“Well, after church, I will take the time to give you a potted history and a tour of the main aspects of the church. Then, I have invited a few back here for lunch. I included the local postal workers, as I thought you might have something in common with them, and I always have Miss Pittock here to lunch on Sunday. She is our local confectioner and she provides us with our cake for tea time. The curate, Reverend Royston will also be there.

“Following that, I will give you some time in the library, where I have put out a few letters that you can read and copy if you like. Some are from Teddy, and some from Edward. You must understand that I would not want you to have access to just any of our letters - so have chosen those which will forward your stated aim of finding out more about Edward’s career from 1844 until his death. But now, please get started on your breakfast. I presume you can find your own way to the church for about quarter to ten.”

“Yes, thank you for your help. I do appreciate all you are doing for me,” I said, but she was no longer really paying attention to me and was chatting to her husband. I didn’t feel they were exactly rude to
me, but just that they were doing what had been asked of them with the least possible disruption to their normal routine.

After breakfast I went back to my room, and read the book I had brought with me until just before
church time. I couldn’t help but be impressed by the church building as I approached it, and was eager to learn all I could of its history.

I found a place on my own near the back, and enjoyed the service. Her husband rambled somewhat in his sermon, and it did go on for much longer than our sermons at home, but the others in the church, which was nearly full, seemed to be listening raptly to his message.

After church, I waited until all the others had left, and then Mrs. Torlesse (she certainly did not
encourage me to use her first name) told me about the church. I have summed it all up here, as I remembered as best I could and wrote it all down as soon as I could after we returned to the house.

St. Mary's was built in the 15th century and its main glory, the red brick tower, was completed about
1470. Close to, the tower is immense. Stoke by Nayland is, after all, a small village and the setting of cottages only enhances the sense of how big it is.

Mrs. Torlesse told me that St Mary’s has the best late 15th century doors in Suffolk. The figures
are remarkable; they stand proud of Gothic turrets and arches. They seem to represent a Tree of Jesse, effectively Christ's family tree, with Mary at the top and ancestors back into Old Testament times beneath. I think the figures in the border are disciples and apostles.

There is a fine font on its huge massive Maltese cross pedestal. The font is curious, to say the
least. Four of the panels show conventional evangelistic symbols, but three of the other four are unfamiliar. One is an angel, but the others are a woman in a cowl carrying a scroll beside a tree, a man with a sack pointing to a book open on a shelf, and a man with a scroll at a lectern.

Across the chancel lies Sir Francis Mannock, 1634. Catherine told me that the Mannocks were a recusant family of Giffords Hall, who were responsible for the survival of the old faith throughout the penal years. 

Reverend Charles Torlesse joined us on our tour and mentioned that John Constable, the painter, loved this tower, and it appears several times in his paintings, although, he said with a smile, not always in the right place. He also said that when the bells of Stoke by Nayland ring, all Suffolk stops to listen.

We three walked back to the house together. There was still a good hour before lunch, but I was
invited to sit in the parlour, and read my book there, rather than having to sit in isolation in my room. Priscilla called to me and asked if she could get me anything, but I declined.

Dinner was in their huge dining room, and I was seated between Mr. Walter Winny and his wife Mary
Ann. As they explained to me, they had been invited because they dealt with the local postal service, and it was felt that I would feel more comfortable with them around.

Mr. Winny, who told me to call him Walter, said, “I am really a shoe maker, but with the help of
my wife we are able to deal with postal matters for a small village such as this. But I am sure that your great town of Altrincham requires a much more involved service.”

So I explained how Mr. Balshaw and I both worked at our post office full time, and that it was very
busy. Although I explained that we did also sell tobacco products.

Miss Pittock, who was the other stranger to me, having seen the curate in his helping capacity at the service, was a very elderly thin lady who said she lived next door. She had brought a Charlotte Russe for the pudding after the meal today, she told me, and she hoped that I would like it. I was able to tell her afterwards that I had never tasted a better cake in my life.

I was very eager for the meal, excellent as it was with roast lamb and vegetables, to be over so
that I could begin on the task which I had come for. It was 2.30 before the others had left and Mrs. Torlesse showed me into the library, and indicated which were the letters put there for my benefit.

The first several were from 1846 and actually written by Teddy. Edward, who was then aged 50, had a severe stroke in August while he was visiting his hairdressers in the Strand.

Teddy wrote, “The only chance for my father is perfect tranquillity for some days...he had a
repetition of his attack on Friday - which tho not so severe, lasted longer. It was determined to bleed him a little and he had two leeches on each temple - This has done him, I think, some good.”

He was also treated with quinine and application of ice to his head as well as blisters behind his ear
and mustard poultices on his back and stomach. Teddy wrote, “I spent many days by my father’s bedside. But after 10 days or so, he seemed so much better, eating chops, chicken and ale with great relish and no unpleasant results. His whole appearance has changed for the better.”

It was lucky that Teddy had recently returned from New Zealand and was on hand to care for his
father.

Later Edward Gibbon went to France to recuperate and to give himself a complete break from New Zealand affairs. However it did not serve his purpose and he returned to London two months later in a semi-invalid state.

I haven’t time to complete this now, and will continue when I next have a chance. Now I must
include the next in the series of letters from Edward to Pa. How strange to be reading about the man aged 50, and then suddenly to go back to his letter of 9 years previously.

December, 1841

Dear Daniel,

I visited Canada again this year and won over Lord Sydenham, the
Governor-General, who had been hostile.

Here is a bit more to tell about Teddy’s exciting times in New Zealand.

The background of the story is that a Maori had been murdered, and the
natives asserted that it had been done by white men. The dead man had
been driving a pig with a flax rope and the rope was found tied up
near the corpse by means of a knot which they recognised as a pakeha
(white man) tying, and never used by the Maori people. This, even if
true, was of course very insufficient proof, as a native might have
done the deed, and then tied the pakeha knot in order to throw the
suspicion on the wrong shoulders.

However, the continuation of this belief among the natives made them flock in
large numbers into the pas (their hut villages) and the settlers were
very apprehensive that an attack was being planned. One man,
a Mr. Murphy, invited a large number of settlers to attend at a
court-house and swore them in as special constables for a fortnight.
But nothing happened. The settlers refused to try to find the white
culprit (if indeed there was one) and there was no trial or jury. So
a spirit of hostility to the white man was treasured up. But the
truth of the matter, is that for natives and settlers alike there was
little benefit of laws and those that were in place were differently
interpreted by the settlers from the Police magistrate and his
subordinates. So the Maoris tried to get some sort of official
statement of their rights. Here is a copy of a letter that had been
widely circulated among the natives:

Port Nicholson, September 19, 1841

Friend Wiararapa - You ask for a letter from the Governor that the white man
may not drive you from your pas, or seize your cultivations.

Listen to the word of the Governor: he says that it is not according to our
laws that you should be driven, if you do not agree to go.

This letter is from the Governor.

Carlisle

To Wairarapa, Chief of Pipeitea.

So you see things are not always straight forward, despite our best
intentions.

My best intentions are that you should have a pleasant New Year,

from your friend Edward Gibbon