Monday, 16 January, 1905

Dear R.

Clear blue skies and not a breath of wind. I am still not really used to being on land, after all the rocking, rocking, rocking and the deep bowelly rumble of the ship's engine. It felt odd, I almost want to say startling, to go to bed last night in silence and stillness and wake ten hours later (yes, ten) in the same silence and stillness. Of course it was wonderful because of its novelty, but I found it rather hard to go to sleep initially because the silence was absolutely DEAFENING. It seems that the relentless throb of the ships engine had become soothing.

I will write down my impressions of that journey down here at some later date, but for now I must get on with the business of being in a new city, in a new country.

Basin Reserve, 1905 (Alexander Turnbull Library)

Later
One penny for what passes for a newspaper in this town. Many things made me laugh while I was reading through its pages looking for more suitable accomodation, but I will record two that particularly grabbed me. The first was an interview with a R.E.N. Twopenny (is this his real name?) about New Zealand. According to Mr. Twopenny it is indeed this city of Wellington that has made the greatest strides and leaps since he first began visiting New Zealand in the 1880s. Where he sees prosperity and bustle I see a certain shabbiness and quiet. Everything sort of emptied out. The streets which must have been at their peak of business when I ventured out to pick up this newspaper, simply seem deserted to me. Mr. Twopenny goes on to praise the trams. Has Mr. Twopenny travelled anywhere else in the world? To London perhaps? A few grumpily run trams clacking and clanging their way about a miserable little clump of a town does not a fine transport system make.

In the other piece it is reported that a German in Christchurch has been writing about New Zealand for a German newspaper and not saying very flattering things. The locals are outraged. I quote: "The New Zealander speaks bad English, and with a 'twang' which is horrible.... The whole pronunciation has more similarity to cat music than the King's English." On dress: "The New Zealander puts no importance on outer appearance, and there is not a good tailor to be had", while the "ladies dress without taste, and their dresses hang on them like sacks.... Worst of all is their hairdress, quite horrible, they wear their hair down to their nose." On New Zealand: it is "like one big family, where everybody knows everybody else." I noted also a passing reference to the school system where I will soon be starting: "in the schools there is only joking going on." Indeed?

The Japanese have beaten the Russians at Port Arthur! Impossible to really believe.

I see that The Sign of the Cross is playing tonight at a local theatre. You know I never saw it in all the time it was on in London. Montgomery's Specialty Company is coming to entertain the folk of Wellington next. I see that they have a Mr. Fred Gibson (coon specialist) and Zeno (the juggler) to enthrall us. The mind boggles. A season of Gilbert and Sullivan is also promised.

Last
Sir, I apologise for how we parted company, and fear I may have given offense to your lovely wife, and guests. One day I hope that you will read my little diary and forgive me. Let my punishment be banishment to this miserable, little edge of the Empire called Wellington, while you continue to thrive in your splendid house at the centre of it all.

J