June 1864

I have received a letter back from Teddy - but he wrote it before he received my second one, telling him of my impending marriage. Interesting enough, he refers to his wife, Ellen, in it for the first time. He says she is twenty years his junior, and that he could not believe it when she agreed to marry him. I hadn’t realise that he was married but it sounded from what he said as if they had not been long wed.

But first, I want to relate my experiences in my trip to Stoke by Nayland, and my visit with Teddy’s aunt, Catharine. She is a formidable woman, aged about 70, now, three years older than Edward Gibbon.  

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. Perhaps the trip from Manchester to Sheffield, over and under the Pennines was the most dramatic. Then we went to Doncaster, to Peterborough, to Colchester, and finally to the little station of Bures.

At the Beres station I hired a driver of a pony and trap to be taken to Stoke by Nayland and to the Vicarage - 9 Church Lane. The church overshadows the town - a huge impressive structure - but more about that later. The vicarage seemed smaller than I envisaged, and although it is detatched, it was so close to its neighbour as to be virtually attached. Ivy covered the front walls of the brick structure with a tiled roof. I had envisaged something much more picturesque with thatch, but that was not the case. There was a sweet little porch over the front door, but other than that, it was unadorned.

As I didn’t arrive until quite late in the evening, Mrs. Catharine Torlesse had left instructions with her 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 the tea 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 casement window was huge, and quite draughty. My own poor room at home might be small, but it is much warmer and cosier.

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

Mrs. Torlesse said, “You must be Miss Forbes. 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 has 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 here.

Following that, I will give you a few hours in the library, where I have put out a few letters that you can read and copy from 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 a quarter of 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 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.

The main entrance is one of the earliest parts of the church, an early 14th century addition to the building that was then replaced in the late 15th century. The corbels include several angels, an Annunciation scene, and what may be Moses.

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.

The church has two large memorials, one to Lady Anne Windsor who died in 1615. Her alabaster effigy lies between her two daughters who kneel at her head and her son at her feet.

Across the chancel lies Sir Francis Mannock, 1634. Catharine 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. Sir Francis's wife Dorothea does not lie with him, but under a brass set in the floor not far away. There are several other brasses, including a substantial one near the priest door to Sir William Tendring, with a happy lion at his feet.

Reverend Charles Torballis 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 as I sat there 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 Mrs. Torlesse had explained to me, they had been invited because they deal 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 also did 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 pudding 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 for which I had come.

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 tranquility 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 beside. 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. But I must admit that my main interest is in what is happening in New Zealand.

Here is a bit more about Teddy’s exciting times there.
The background of the story is that a native 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”