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Updated: June 28, 2025
That Gibbon Wakefield's brother should have been savagely butchered and not avenged was bad enough; that his fellow-settlers should be rated for their share in the disaster seemed a thing not to be endured. The Maoris grew insolent, the settlers sullen, and for years afterward a kind of petty warfare lingered on in the Wellington district. Governor Fitzroy was no more successful in Taranaki.
Wakefield's memory, the expence, as it ought, will be defrayed by me. I am, sir, Your very obedient humble servant, Had such a letter been written by a man who had pretended fondness for his wife, it might perhaps have been construed unfeeling: if not insulting to her memory.
The cap, the nose and chin and the broad waist form an admirable caricature, which dances, moreover, with the up-flickering and down-sinking blaze almost too merrily for the shade of an elderly widow. At this instant a shower chances to fall, and is driven by the unmannerly gust full into Wakefield's face and bosom. He is quite penetrated with its autumnal chill.
On the other side, Gibbon Wakefield believed that the council chose the occasion to escape from a defeat otherwise inevitable, in the hope that a renewed agitation for responsible government might reinstate them in public favour. As Metcalfe gave the suggestion some authority by accepting it provisionally in a despatch, the details of Wakefield's charge may be given.
He was intellectual, but not actively so; his mind occupied itself in long and lazy musings, that ended to no purpose, or had not vigor to attain it; his thoughts were seldom so energetic as to seize hold of words. Imagination, in the proper meaning of the term, made no part of Wakefield's gifts.
Among the sights in and around Calcutta, I would recommend the visiter to make a point of seeing, the Mint, the native Bazaars, the Dum Dum Artillery Station, the Ishapoor Gunpowder Manufactory, and Mr. Wakefield's farm at Acra. I mention these as having been myself gratified with examining them. The Mint is, perhaps, the finest in the world.
Wakefield's Reports I offered to the Royal Geographical Society, and which I subsequently published in "Zanzibar City, Island, and Coast." You, Dr. Behm, are apparently satisfied with a lake drained by an inverted delta of half-a-dozen issues I am not.
The crisis is over; her heart is sad, perhaps, but quiet, and, let him return soon or late, it will never be feverish for him again. Such ideas glimmer through the mist of Wakefield's mind and render him indistinctly conscious that an almost impassable gulf divides his hired apartment from his former home. "It is but in the next street," he sometimes says. Fool! it is in another world.
The revenue of the Provincial Council rose to half a million; the country road-boards hardly knew how to spend their money. Speculation, extravagance, reaction such were the fruits the last years of Wakefield's system bore there. Not that the fault was Gibbon Wakefield's.
If the reader choose, let him do his own meditation; or if he prefer to ramble with me through the twenty years of Wakefield's vagary, I bid him welcome; trusting that there will be a pervading spirit and a moral, even should we fail to find them, done up neatly, and condensed into the final sentence. Thought has always its efficacy, and every striking incident its moral.
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