9
June 1873
Gates and Gray both sentenced to 8 years this week. On one hand, it is
fitting that the courts acknowledged greater fault to the managers of
that fight than Jimmy, but what of the rest that arranged that
disgraceful fight? The bad hand is how this entire event will reflect
on the sport as a whole.
18 June 1873
…heard word of a new development in the United States called the
Comstock law, which makes it illegal to send lewd or obscene books
through the mail. Have sent mail to lawyers there, but people here tell
me that my dislike of the horrible drivel that is written about me does
not by itself make the work obscene. Was worth investigating though.
24 July 1873
Haven’t seen One Punch O’Niell since the competition back in October.
I’ve been following a story though, “One Punch O’Neil and the Ghost of
Twistleton Hall”. I should be remarking how clear and thoughtful
his elocution has become, but instead I have come some rather startling
revelations as to how these stories work. Now I find myself not
worrying about the wrong. I realize now that ‘tis the imaginations of
the writer. Now I find myself more gravely concerned with how much
written about me is from actual events. I think I like this even less,
especially concerning those who believe the things written about me.
Rather enjoying “Lt. Howarth and the Navel Secret.” I fear from the
spelling that it might be leading to some ridiculous twist worthy of
the one of the Lt. Whiffle and his dancing shirt or some such thing
from the theaters.
15 August 1873
After months of doing the proper ceremonies courting Mary Kendall, you
would think I could go to the town pub without having to make special
arrangement. Not to be. One would also think I might find a certain
feeling greater than my initial attraction. Sadly this is also not to
be. My greatest subject to avoid with Mary Katherine is religion. She
has great faith, I still would not know where to begin with my doubts
regarding “angels”, the gospel as written, and in what manner such
things are revealed to men…
…things have been rather more rough for common folk like those in the
village, rather then for me since. I’ve heard of some men and
businesses ruined since the collapse of the Vienna stocks, I did lose
some investment there as well, according to my advisor, but most of it
is still back in the businesses shared by myself, Henry W, and Spencer
C. I have told those in the village that there is no need to pay
any rents to me for the land they already have built upon. I doubt with
as little money as there is goin around that they could purchase that
land for their own, but I will do all I can to make it possible for
those who desire it…
…”Navel Secret” Bah!
19 August 1873
… some advisors are now asking me for information, given my reluctance
to place money in certain markets. Just dumb luck and a reluctance to
convert perfectly good money into printed bits of paper on the
continent. Too many people, particularly wealthy people are in a panic
over money. Apparently they have never known what it is lose it, then
find another means of regaining it. There are advantages to being born
without it after all…
29 August 1873
My 30th year. Should have gone to London or anywhere to visit friends.
Could not even go to the local pub. Mary had to tend to her customers,
but the matchmaker was visiting family in Worchester. Considered travel
to another township for a pint, but spent the evening in the study and
in a foul mood.
26 December 1873
…a fine Christmas celebration this year, without any unexpected
incident. It is still completely outside therules of ceremony to have
Mrs. Kendall accompany me. I think that she would enjoy the company of
my friends. She does have an active trade to deal with this time of
year.
6 January 1874
Usually heavy drink clouds the mind. In some tempestuous times it grant
me clarity, and I shall write while these thoughts still will not wait.
Let me start at the beginning, or the end, as it were.
Mary Katherine Kendall and I, despite extended courtship, do not love
each other and without any of the usual outside interference or force,
find no other reason to pursue marriage. I find myself at once
relieved, yet hating myself for not finding that one last thing within
me. My head says that this would be a fine match, good for both in
interest we share and complimentary in things that we lack… that I
lack While the heart can move, lie to , even completely ignore
the head; the head can barely make suggestions to the heart. And I am
yet another man to suffer for that.
So what do I do now? Offer less resistance to those daughters of gentry
whose families have squandered their riches or lost them in the
markets? Whose fathers swallow their pride and suppress their revulsion
of the thought of a Mick touching their child? Would any of that
society see me for anything other then a bridge to restoring their
fortune? Could that lot see beyond my race, my sport, my being “a
blawdy ec-tor”?
If there was such a remarkable girl, could I ever be clever
enough to kow the difference between her and one just out for the
money. I would either mistrust and drive away an honest one, or be
deceived by the fortune hunter.
Do I sift through the letters of affection and intent, with the purpose
of finding someone who already posseses attraction and devotion to me?
Those poor unfortunate ladies have fallen for a poorly imagined spectre
that bears my name and likeness, who has occasionally done things that
are remotely reminiscent of things that I and my traveling
companions have accomplished.
What they love is not me, and I am already vexed at the way that
spectre is not me, far too different from me. I would be the man they
married that didn’t live up to their ideal, even when it was “me”. And
what would happen if Mum finally decided I was her son again? Would I
tell her that I knew that my bride was the one for me when I found that
the woman who asked me to autograph her knickers had also been writing
me three perfumed letters a day? Bloody hell?
Do I follow Tiny’s advice for selecting a wife? His method seems to
work brilliantly for him, sadly not very well for his wives or
children. I think not for me.
Do I carouse and rake? It sems that my friend Henry Wooster had a grand
time and still managed to find a way to settle down rather happily.
Surprisingly happy with each other. I realize that Henry has an
abundance of what my family called fools luck. Something I do not
possess abundantly. My own good fortune of late has come through
knowing Henry and his family. I can’t seem to go out for a bit of fun
without some tough trying to prove himself by calling me out anyway,
it’s proven difficult to gian the affections of a fair lady while
dodging flying glassware and throwing punches. The problem with being
identified as a Goliath, is that every man with two pints or more in
him thinks he’s David.
When things were simpler I was still baffled in matters of women, now
with everything elsr it seems impossible. I don’t (unintelligible) to
do (unintelligible)
Proceed to A full bloody
legend
This page copyright 2004 by C.D. Woodbuty. All Rights Reserved.