October 5, 1863

Finally, a letter back from Edward Jerningham Wakefield. I knew it would take a long time as my letter must have taken at least two months to get there, and another two back after he has penned his reply. It is not quite as detailed as I would have liked, but at least he seems willing to tell me a few details about his father. My hands shook as I opened it, as if I were receiving a letter from a lover. I do hope he will continue to write to me.

“August 1, 1863

Christchurch, New Zealand

Dear Miss Forbes,

I received your letter, and had previously been informed by my Aunt Catharine that you might be writing. I am pleased that someone is interested in providing a legacy of my father’s life. Aunt Catharine seems to think that all sorts of scholars are writing about him, but if that is true, no one has contacted me. I should be the one to write about him, but I find I cannot do it. I find it even difficult to write these few words about him, so I fear I might not be of much use to you.

You ask about my experiences in New Zealand. I sailed there arriving in August, 1839. I acted as secretary to my uncle, Colonel William Wakefield, who the leader of the Wellington settlement. I made a number of independent journeys throughout the colony, and was the Company's agent in the purchase of land at Wanganui and engaged in trading with the Maori.

I did write a book once, Adventure in New Zealand, published by John Murray soon after my return to England, in 1845, but in fact it was not so much me writing a book as such , but my letters to my father about my experiences here which he made it into a book and had it published  in my name. I will ask my Aunt Catharine to send you a copy, as it might no longer be easily available to buy. It will answer your questions as to my early life here.

I would be very interested to read the letters that my father wrote to your father. I was only a child in the time of his imprisonment, and my memory of the time is somewhat faded. However, I do remember him receiving letters from someone in Cheshire - and he made us learn all of the major towns of the county, and included Disley among them. Only much later did I realise how small and unimportant Disley really is to Cheshire.

As far as when my father came to New Zealand, and his impression of it, he came in March 1853. He had already suffered quite severe medical problems in England.

He was thrilled with the climate, but soon became bored by the politics and lack of mental stimulation. He often told me how he wished he had never come. But by then, almost all of his family were also here, so it became home to him in time.

He became an M.P. for Wellington, and spent most of his time in that city. He didn’t like Christchurch, which is where I now live, and I was the M. P. for Canterbury up until last year.

As far as rivers and streets being named after him, there are a few Wakefield Avenues scattered here and there but I think that mostly happened in Australia. There is a town called Wakefield in New Zealand but the residents firmly deny any connection to my family. But there is a place near Christchurch that definitely is named after us - Port Wakefield township near Sumner.

I hope this will be of some interest to you. Do write to me again if you think there is any more that I can tell you that might be on interest for your book and best of luck with it.

Yours faithfully,

Edward Jerningham Wakefield (my friends call me Teddy)”

This next letter from Edward Gibbon Wakefield is very sad. I know from other sources, that his daughter died on February 12th, only days after his letter was posted.

“February 5, 1835

Dear Daniel

I am writing this letter from Lisbon. We had to give up all hope of going to Australia.  Last November Nina’s health became so delicate that I knew a warmer climate was imperative, so I brought her here.

They say she has consumption, but that her life might be prolonged by the warm weather here. The doctors declare that her lung is not incurably infected and the change may do wonders for her. I have hired a Portuguese peasant girl to care for her. She should have come here years ago, and I suppose my imprisonment and my selfish interests that I pursued over the years might have contributed to her ill health.

I am very worried about her, as she is very thin and pale. I will not be able to write about it if she should not survive. She has been my friend and partner in every thought and object of interest. I don’t think I could survive her loss as it is for her alone that I have lived these past years.

Please remember us in your prayers.

Edward Gibbon”