October 15, 1862

Back to my book, again. I must admit that I am very much enjoying the experience of putting all these items in an orderly fashion. Mr. Wakefield wrote at such great length and with such compelling detail in his letters to Pa, that he has written most of the story for me.

I am sure Pa continued to write to Mr. Wakefield. Although I have no doubt he would have heard it from his friends who visited him at prison, the next bit of intelligence about Ellen that Pa may have sent to him, was that her marriage to him was annulled on the 15th of May, the day after the Wakefields were sentenced.

As the marriage had never been consummated, there was no problem and the House of Lords granted a Bill to annul it. Having said that, there is no doubt that their richness expedited the situation. I have heard that her uncle, Mr Turner's brother Robert, who owned mills in Helmshore, and Rossendale, paid more than £5,000 and pursued an Act of Parliament to have the marriage annulled.

I am speculating that Pa’s next contribution to the correspondence would have included asking Mr. Wakefield for details about his earlier life. Perhaps he was curious as to how someone could stoop to such a low act, when in the face of things, he was relatively well off already.

“November 5, 1827

Newgate Prison
My dear friend Daniel,

I do so enjoy getting your letters. I am not without correspondents and visitors, but somehow your fresh ideas and common sense make your letters very special to me.

Thank you for informing me that I am no longer a married man. I did hear it from others, and in fact was called to put evidence to the hearing which granted the annulment, but I hadn’t realised how expensive a business it is getting one’s marriage annulled.

You asked whether I have family other than those I have mentioned, and specifically if I have children. I will give you a quick listing of my life, and you shall then know all there is to know about me.

I came from Quaker stock, and it is just possible that you have read or heard of books which were written by my grandmother, and my father. They both have done much to improve the prospects of prisoners, and so it is quite an irony, that I am now benefitting from their previous efforts.

To go back to the very beginning, I was born in London on 20 March, 1796, the eldest son of Edward Wakefield, a London land agent and surveyor, and his wife Susanna, née Crash, an Essex farmer's daughter. The Wakefields came of Quaker stock, and my father, though not a practising Quaker, was an active philanthropic reformer, best known for his book, Account of Ireland, Statistical and Political.

I was sent to Westminster School in 1808, but in 1810 refused to return. I was then sent to Edinburgh High School, but left in January 1812. My first employment at the age of 18, was as a King’s messenger, carrying diplomatic mail about Europe around the time of the Battle of Waterloo.

On 9th August, 1816 I eloped with a young fifteen year old heiress and ward of chancery (does this surprise you considering my recent history?). Her name was Eliza Susan Pattle and we were subsequently married in Edinburgh. I managed to persuade the Lord Chancellor to consent to the union, placated my mother-in-law, and achieved one of the most generous chancery settlements ever made to a ward’s husband. I got a marriage settlement of seventy thousand pounds with the prospect of more when Eliza turned 21.

We then, accompanied by her mother and various servants moved to Genoa where I was employed in a diplomatic capacity.

In Genoa our first child, Nina, was born in 1817. We returned to London in 1820 where our second child, Edward Jerningham, was born. Four days later on 5 July, Eliza died. I was bereft.

Subsequently the two children have been brought up by their aunt, my older sister, Catherine. After recovering somewhat from my grief, I became an attaché at the British Embassy in Paris.

During the years of my marriage, our expenses far outweighed my income, even considering my wife's portion. My money worries were enormous.

So I attempted to overturn my father-in-law's will and get my hands on the rest of my dead wife's money. This didn't work, and my reputation was tarnished as there were suspicions that I resorted to forgery and perjury to establish my case although no charges were laid. So I was somewhat desperate to try anything when my story came to your attention.

So enough for now about my background. If you wish I will go into great detail at another time about my Grandmother and her good works.

However, I said I would say a bit more about my confinement here. I regard it not a house of correction or penitentiary, but merely a prison of detention - a sort of metropolitan watch-house for the secure custody of persons about to be tried or executed. The great mass of prisoners here are persons awaiting trial.

The prisoners, like me who are here for punishment, are not subject to a regime to make them "penitent". Being a gentleman, I have quite a commodious cell with a maid-of-all-work to look after me.

My sister brings my two children (Nina is now ten years old, and Edward Jerningham whom we call Teddy is 7) to visit me regularly in my cell where I give them their lessons.

I have become very interested in the treatment of those who are here but are less fortunate prisoners. They are locked, two or even three together, in cells eight foot by six. Men and women are in different parts of the prison and boys under fourteen are kept in a part of the prison known as the school - unless they are considered to be hardened offenders.

Prisoners sentenced to death are kept in solitary confinement. On average, there are twenty prisoners waiting death at any one time. On one occasion there were fifty nine. Some of these were reprieved. There average stay between sentence and reprieve or execution is six weeks.

I wish to learn more about the other prisoners, and have asked if I can carry out social investigations, including interviewing other prisoners. But more about this in my next letter. As I always seem to do, I have run on with my story to vast numbers of pages.

As always, thanking you for your continued interest in me
I am your faithful friend,

Edward Gibbon”