Inspiration: Emily Chesley
and The Web of the World’s Romance
In 1904, at the first meeting of the Canadian Congress of Speculationists,
Emily Chesley made her defiant address defending herself against accusations
that her writings were an offence to moral decency and Christian civilization.
"In fact, it is their autocratic regime, rife with a paterfamilias
ethic, that is the offence," thundered Chesley. "I humbly suggest
to them: get bent." This stirring defense was to inspire woman writers
for generations to come. One such writer was an amateur historian and
some time schoolteacher from Toronto named Florence Deeks.
Deeks had read a number of Emily’s novels in her younger years
and, while they were not exactly her cup of tea, this fearless Canadian
woman of speculation nonetheless intrigued her. In the early years of
the 20th century, the suffragists, and their calls for equal rights for
women, further inspired Deeks. In 1913, while perusing old copies of the
Arva Annual at the Toronto Public Library, Deeks read an account of Emily’s
historic appearance before the CC of S. She decided on the spot that she
too would throw off the oppressive wet blanket of the autocratic regime
and undertake a great writing project. She would undertake nothing less
that a comprehensive history of the world that would show conclusively
the positive impact of women upon civilization. There is also evidence
that at this time Florence began corresponding with Emily to ask advice
on the writer’s craft. For the next four years Deeks rarely left
the library. While the world fell into catastrophic war, she toiled away
devouring research texts and composing her great work.
Emily Chesley too had inspirations in her life. Of course, the most widely
known inspiration was her uncle, the inventor and locationist Michael
Flannigan. But there were others. In 1896 Emily published War Drums on
the Maitland, a speculative romance that employed the previously unused
literary device of time travel. In the novel the heroine, Winnona Highgate,
is accidentally trapped within a wine aging device called the Vintner’s
Friend. Winona finds that the Vintner's Friend does far more than "round
the flavor of a pedestrian Merlot” when she emerges 100 years in
the future. From this point Winnona explores a future London Ontario which
is also a clever parody constructed by Chesley to speculate on the future
of the class struggle. Scarcely a year after War Drums on the Maitland,
Emily’s uncle passed a volume to his niece. "Y'might find this
amusing if somewhat derivative," he said. The book was called The
Time Machine: An Invention and it was by a British writer named Herbert
George Wells. Chesley found Wells’ story 'somewhat simplistic' and
his 'choppy' writing style would need considerable work, but it showed
promise. In the years that followed Chesley read Wells other romances,
as well as a number of his journalistic pieces. While not particularly
impressed with his writing ability, Chesley was enthralled and inspired
by Wells political views. Among other things, the scientific utopian Wells
believed in full equality for woman, free love (sexual liberation), and
the potential of scientific progress to save humankind.
Emily resolved to meet Wells at the earliest convenience. That opportunity
came in 1908 when Emily was in England and embroiled in her defense against
charges of sedition in the Privy Council. Wells, Emily learned, was quite
aware of her literary works and anxious to meet her. What Emily was not
aware of was that H.G. Wells, in addition to being a socialist and a feminist
was also a notorious womanizer. This self-described 'lothario of the literati'
counted among his conquest a number of the most intelligent and accomplished
women of the day. Emily was a smart articulate writer and a stunning 'young'
woman to boot. In short, she was exactly Wells type. Though Emily was
10 years his senior, she appeared to be much younger than Wells (due,
no doubt, to the freakish Flannigan genome).
When he spotted Emily at a Devon Garden party, expressing her opinion
on the folly of Carp fishing, Wells exclaimed to pen-pal and drinking
buddy George Bernard Shaw "Shaw! She's amazing! Splendid! I must
have . . . er . . . meet her." Shaw arranged an introduction. Emily
recounts their encounter in her memoirs:
I told Mr. Wells that I was a great fan of his writing. He reciprocated
the compliment but said little else, only mumbling “Splendid.
Splendid.” He smiled disarmingly but failed to meet eyes with
me, preferring instead to carefully examine my bodice. I mentioned that
I was fond of a quote attributed to him, "When I see an adult on
a bicycle, I feel there is hope for the human race." His eyes lit.
"Do you like . . . riding?" he said, cocking an eyebrow in
my direction.
"Oh yes!" I said. "I am very fond of riding."
"Hmm," he said with delight. "Perhaps we could . . .
ride . . . together sometime. Hmm? Eh?"
Emily was deeply disappointed. She had clearly hoped for a meeting of
the minds with Wells but his attention was focused somewhat south of her
brain. Emily was hardly a prude but her tastes went more toward horned
helmets and fur-lined boots. H.G. Wells was no Norwegian!
Years passed. Emily had adventures literally to the ends of the Earth.
Meanwhile, in the Toronto Public Library, Florence Deeks labored on. In
1918 she completed her grand work of history that she named The Web of
the World’s Romance. She didn’t hesitate to post a copy of
the manuscript to her literary hero as well as a copy to Macmillan of
Canada. Emily’s ever-faithful servant, Mrs. Peabody, had it forwarded
to Emily in London. Emily read the tome and, in a letter to Deeks declared
it 'exceptional'.
Emily had one more meeting with Wells late in 1918. "He hadn’t
changed a wit in ten years," wrote Emily. "Still trying to charm
me out of my clothes! Absurd little man! He tried to impress with talk
about his latest project, a book about the history of the world. I affected
a blasé attitude. ‘World history?’ I said. ‘Why,
I know a woman in Toronto who has already finished one. Macmillan is looking
at it right now.’ Wells looked a bit surprised at that. He only
said ‘Macmillan eh? Hmm.’"
Scarcely a year later, Wells wrote and published his famous Outline of
History, a massive 2,000 page tome which was amazing as much for its scope
and length as the fact Wells had written it in less than a year. The publisher,
as for all of Wells books, was Macmillan Co. The world was enthralled.
Florence Deeks was outraged. After her own book was rejected by Macmillan
she purchased a copy of the Outline and was stunned to find that it contained
many of the same passages as her work. Worse, it even contained many of
the same errors as her work. She took Wells to court on charges of plagiarism.
H.G. Wells may have been a supporter of women’s rights, but that
didn’t stop him from taking advantage of the paterfamilias regime.
His dismissive and condescending attitude towards Deeks was mirrored by
a court whose members could not conceive of Wells as a plagiarist let
alone the plagiarist of the works of a woman. The suit was laughed out
of court. Deeks took it all the way to the Privy Council and even a direct
appeal to the King. The results were the same.
Though Emily was counted on for moral support, Deeks did not ask for
her active participation in her case. Emily’s views were growing
even more extreme in the 20s and Deeks wisely felt that her appearance
would be prejudicial. She was particularly horrified by one missive Emily
sent her titled “How to take a bite out of the Privy Council!”
Emily probably could not have helped anyway as even the testimony of a
number of respected male scholars had gotten Deeks nowhere. The court
was entertained more by Wells who, for example, noted that his wife, who
typed the Outline of History, had "Ahem, fast fingers. Ha ha. Fast
fingers, eh? By Jove!" The case was eventually forgotten and Florence
Deeks became a historical footnote.
The story of Florence Deeks, the Chesley connection, and H.G. Wells
was briefly revived in the 1950s by Dr. O. Wynnott Stroak, an early devotee
of the "lost works" of Emily Chesley. In a follow-up to his
landmark monograph on the literary expropriation of the Chesleyan oeuvre
by 20th century writers "This Is Bullshit!", Stroak outlined
the Deeks incident in the article "See? See?! What the hell?!"
After a careful review of the case, Stroak concluded that Wells was 'a
dink!' But by this time Stroak was deeply embroiled in the penguin synchronized
swimming controversy and would soon after turn up dead, floating face
down in the Antarctic display at the London Zoo. The Deeks incident has
also been explored by Canadian historian A.B. McKillop in his 2000 book,
The Spinster and the Prophet. Strangely, that otherwise meticulously researched
work fails to mention Emily Chesley at all.
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