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| Emily Chesley - a biography | |||||||
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Peruse her biography:Formation (1856-1880)London, Ontario (1880-1904) Travels (1904-1919) A Long Twilight (1919-1948) ...Chesleyan Timeline ...The Oeuvre The Busy Autumn Part I: The Tolkein Reconciliation
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The Busy Autumn (1919) The Viscountess Nancy Astor, one of the beautiful Langhorne sisters born in Greenwood, Virginia, became a loyal British subject when she married parliamentarian Waldorf Astor in 1906. Lady Astor had learned all she could about Emily after the infamous sedition case of 1908. Yet despite Emilys virulent anti-British sentiments, Nancy admired Chesleys feminist writings and thought she might offer helpful counsel on how a lady could win the coveted Plymouth seat. (1) The election was to be held on November 28, and polls taken in late October had Lady Astor trailing the Labour candidate and the two rival Conservative candidates contesting the seat. She desperately needed an edge.
Ironically, none other than Lord Reginald Pustule Gorcharp (Mimsy to his closest associates), one of Waldorfs closest political allies, suggested to Nancy that she might find such an edge in Emily Chesley. Lord Gorcharp, a retired member of the Privy Council, advised that the tactics Emily employed with him during the sedition trial would, indeed, be of use to a woman seeking political office. (2) Lady Astor had learned through Hugo Dyson that Emily was lodging at the home of John Tolkien near Oxford. She sent a telegram urging Emily to rush immediately to Plymouth and help during the critical final stages of the campaign. "Do it not for the Empire, but for its reform," Astors telegram pleaded. "Your global sisterhood looks to you in our greatest hour of need." The message resonated with Emily who had long been an advocate of the suffrage movement, and she decided to help. Women had been making some impressive gains in the more progressive countries of Europe. Women in Finland had won the vote in 1906, the Norwegians had done so in 1913, and in February 1919 the International Womans Suffrage Conference had convened in Paris. In fact, French women were preparing to vote for the first time in a legislative election at the same time Britain was heading to the polls. However, British women under 30 still didnt have the vote, and that irked Lady Astor for one simple reason. In the country of her birth, Secretary of State Bainbridge Colby was drawing up the wording for the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution that would proclaim American women had a right to vote.
Upon Emilys arrival at Astors manor, Kneelingdowne-by-the-Sea, Nancy was profuse in her thanks and most eager to learn more about Chesleys "powerful tactics of persuasion" to which Lord Gorcharp had mysteriously alluded. When Emily gradually pieced together that it was the heinous Mimsy who had mockingly suggested that her "services" be employed to aid Lady Astors election bid, she could barely contain her outrage. But maintain her composure she did, for the seed of a brilliant plot to exact her long-awaited revenge from the British Empires "chief dung beetle" had instantly planted itself in Chesleys fertile imagination. She agreed to assist Lady Astor on one condition: a masquerade ball would be held at Kneelingdowne-by-the-Sea following a successful election result. Though unorthodox, especially for a Conservative political party, that was precisely Chesleys point. Lady Astor had to send a clear message to Britains ruling class that women had a different, more imaginative and delightful way of doing things. Nancy accepted the condition and Emily set to work. What ultimately turned the electoral tide in favour of Lady
Astor was a new campaign slogan and accompanying literature outlining
her political platform, both written by Chesley. The slogan Fancy
Nancy! was complemented by a tersely worded pamphlet entitled
Stand Up and Be Counted! that was widely distributed to households
in Plymouth where women over 30 were known to reside. That particular
segment of the electoral population had failed in the past While offensive to many, Chesleys gamble paid off. Stand Up and Be Counted stirred a few of the over-30 female electorate from their indifference, but throngs of male constituents were heard humming the Fancy Nancy! campaign ditty (also penned by Emily) on their way to the polls. Lady Astor swept into office as the first woman to ever sit in the British parliament, beating the Labour candidate by 5,203 votes and winning a majority over the combined votes of her two Conservative rivals by a count of 1,004. Though the gender split of the vote will never be known, The Devon Horn quoted one male voter as saying: "Of course I fancy Nancy. She seems like an honest woman and a fine candidate to boot. Besides, Ive conferred on the matter with my mates over many a pint at the local pub and its generally agreed that she has us poor bastards by the short and curlies. What choice, pray tell, do we have?" What choice, indeed. On the evening of the election, the promised masquerade ball got under way at Kneelingdowne-by-the-Sea where Emily would later offer the dastardly Lord Gorcharp a fateful choice of his own one he would make in the heat of the moment and live to rue the rest of his days. When the election results became known at Fancy Nancy! headquarters, Emily congratulated Lady Astor on her victory then feigned a sudden illness, regretfully excusing herself from the celebrations. However, before retiring from the pandemonium, she surreptitiously added a single name to the guest list for the masquerade: Penelope Fullalove. Being a master of disguise (see Abdullah the naughty Kurdish camel boy in "East of Etonne"and Helmer Hanssen in "The Bipolar Years") Emilys ploy entailed transforming herself into a sultry vixen (not much of a stretch) who would claim to be a philatelist from Philadelphia. Penelopes ruse would be that she had come to England to document how Lady Astors historic achievement might earn her place on a postage stamp. However, her true objective would be to seduce Lord Gorcharp into a most vulnerable position. Much of what transpired that night between Mimsy and Penelope (at least that which happened in public view) was recorded in the detailed journal entry of Hilda Matheson, a renowned lesbian who served as Lady Astors political secretary: November 28, 1919, At the masquerade this evening I met an American who I am quite certain is the most outlandish whore to ever set foot on the British Isles. Unannounced, she boldly strutted over to Mimsy and me wearing a fishy mask, with puckered lips painted bright red, rose cheeks, and ridiculously long eye-lashes. She slid her hand into Mimsys palm in a most seductive manner and introduced herself as Ms. Penelope Fullalove. She did this without extending me the courtesy of a passing glance. The woman cut a remarkably voluptuous figure in her sheath-like sequined dress, which I suspect she intended to cast the appearance of a mermaid. To me, however, she looked like a parasitic serpent that sucks innards from the under bellies of sperm whales. Mimsy, drunken old poofter that he is, was completely soused before the snail fritters had even been served. He exchanged pleasantries with Penelope while making no attempt to conceal his wandering eyes. Predictably, he was smitten by Ms. Fullalove, who claimed to be, of all things, a philatelist from Philadelphia. Though I could not see through the thickness of his skull to prove it, I could practically hear the whirring wheels of Mimsys perverted mind. "So tell me, Penelope may I call you Penelope?" he slurred. "Why yes, yes, of course Lord Gorcharp," purred the tart. "Oh, please Mimsy will do just fine, my dear. Now then, tell me, Penelope have you been philating for long?" Having drowned in gin what few sensible inhibitions God had granted him, Mimsy asked this preposterous question without so much as a hint of sarcasm. "Well, if truth be told, Ive been fascinated for as long as I can remember by things meant for licking and sticking," the slattern replied, not missing a beat. "Domestic, foreign specimens of all shapes, sizes and colors I adore them all." Needless to say, I was appalled by the vulgarity of the exchange, but the most profane was still to come. After a pregnant pause, during which I decided I had heard quite enough and was about to walk away, the American floozy had the audacity to add: "Actually I think its the bitterness of the paste that thrills me most." Even Mimsy, who began choking on his martini olive, was taken aback by this rejoinder. But after recovering, he gulped what was left of his seventh cocktail, took the mermaid by her arm and mumbled, "Come with me, my dear lady, for I have a specimen of my own you might like to inspect." Leaning on the serpent woman to steady his balance, Mimsy staggered to Lord Astors study, where they both disappeared behind closed doors. It was only a few moments later before we heard the first blood-curdling scream What happened next, within the privacy of Lord Astors study, was faithfully recorded in Emilys memoirs, Speculations:
November 28, 1919 Kneelingdowne-by-the-Sea: My seductive web had captured its prey, the Empires foremost dung-eater himself, just as I had planned. Before I could even lock the doors behind us, the saucy old codger had already doffed his mask, dropped his trousers and hopped up on to Lord Astors desk. I deflected his advances to remove my own mask, explaining that I found the anonymity of our little charade was enhancing my sexual excitement. It was then that I noticed the withered thing that hung its sorry head between Mimsys pallid legs. It reminded me of my first regrettably memorable encounter with Quentin Farkmee when that dreadful beast had wagged at me his tiny trunk of teeny totality. Gorcharp was indeed an aging man, and it was evident it would take more patience to put the old lead in his pencil than it did 13 years earlier in the recessional chambers of the Privy Council. As I stooped to execute my clandestine task, he extended the only courtesy a man can offer a lady under such circumstances. "Before we proceed any further, dear, can you tell me if your preference is to spit or to swallow?" "Gentlemans choice," I replied, knowing full well what his answer would be. "Very well then, love. I must say you are looking a little parched anyway," he chortled, "especially for a mermaid." With that, I obliged his request to the fullest extent of my capabilities. Taking care not to bite off more than I could chew, I administered much to Mimsys horror what Uncle Michael might have called a Full Frontal Mandible-Aided Pencilectomy. After separating Lord Mimsy from his loyal "Member of Parliament," I swallowed the contents of my mouth, which tasted remarkably like undercooked chicken. Having completed my cannibalistic chore, a deep satisfaction for the revenge I had extracted from Lord Mimsy sunk warmly into the pit of my stomach. As wails of disbelief and terror bellowed from his great gob, the delicious symbolism of the moment occurred to me: I had struck a mighty blow for all women of the Empire who had suffered under the chauvinistic oppression of Lord Mimsy and his ilk. But taking pity on the poor man before making good my escape through an open window in the study, I reached inside my décolletage for a lace hanky he could dab on his pathetically small but strongly pulsating wound. Without uttering a word, I also tucked into Mimsys breastpocket the calling card of a doctor friend from my Paris years who I thought might be of some assistance in what would undoubtedly be a most uncomfortable convalescence (3)
But just weeks after the Games opened, Ireland to which Emily had not returned since emigrating to America some 51 years previously beckoned. Militant Irish nationalists, well-armed and protesting British rule, were waging bloody battles against Unionist mobs in the streets of Belfast. Once again, the tyranny of the British Empire provoked the dreaded ire of Emily. Owing Arthur Griffith, the founder of Sinn Fein, a favour for the support he had provided her during the sedition trial, she packed her frolics trunks and headed north to the fabled land of her birth.
"Scholarship" by Bruce "The Invisible Guy" Trevor Next Chapter: The Indigestible Years...>. Foothills Footnotes: 1) The seat had been vacated by her husband Walford, a Conservative, who had recently been elevated to the House of Lords. [back] 2) Gorcharp, of course, did not reveal to Lady Astor the salacious nature of the persuasion tactics so expertly employed by Emily during the sedition trial. [back] 3) Dr. Serge Voronoff, a Russian who trained and spent his working life in Paris, was one of two dubious medical practitioners of the day who had begun affixing the gonads of goats and monkeys to the testes of deranged men seeking to restore their sagging pep. Emily would later write about Voronoff and the other quack, an American snake-oil salesman and flim-flam artist named Dr. John Brinkley, in her novel The Grafters (Shrinking Lilly Press, 1927).[back] 4) The Norwegian yachtsmen would win more medals 11 in total, seven of them Gold than any other nation, the countrys best ever result of any Olympic Games to date. [back] |
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