"The Spinster and the Prophet" by A.B. McKillop

Wells won the case. Deeks appealed. Dismissed. She boarded a boat for England, where she appeared before the British Privy Council. But Lord Atkin of Aberdovey, Lord Tomlin of Ash and Lord Thankerton proved no more sympathetic than the Canadians. That left only the King of England -- by common law "every British Subject has a right to appeal to the mercy seat of the throne" -- so she sent off a petition to George V. The case, which by then had cost her approximately $750,000 in today's dollars, was summarily judged "frivolous."

That "The Web" had been a book about the power of women through history is only the easiest of many ironies. Assuredly more difficult for Deeks to take was the publishing industry's response to her revision of "The Web," to which she turned when her lawsuit could go no further. "Your book would be subject to comparison with Wells' 'Outline of History,'" wrote an editor at Little, Brown, perceptively. "For that reason, I think you will have difficulty in securing a publisher at the present time." Nevertheless, to feel sympathy for Deeks does not require that we disagree with Wells when he writes, in one of his books, that "Fools make researches and wise men exploit them."

Strictly as a matter of copyright, Wells may have done wrong; the selection and organization of information is protected as intellectual property. His claim never to have seen the Deeks manuscript, at any rate, seems highly unlikely. (Not only is there an overwhelming amount of textual evidence, but also, as important, McKillop finds a path through Macmillan that convincingly explains how Wells was secretly lent "The Web" when he needed it most desperately.) The more pressing question, though, isn't who owed how much money to whom -- they're all dead anyway -- but rather how we're to treat a famous author's reputation. And that brings us back to plagiarism.

H.G. Wells may have been a liar and a thief, but that is the extent of his guilt. However reprehensible we may find his opinion of women, he set out to do something fundamentally different with the material at hand than was done by Florence Deeks. He didn't plagiarize her any more than she did John Richard Green, or, for that matter, than any writer who uses words in the correct grammatical order plagiarizes H.W. Fowler.

What is admirable about "The Web" is the argument it makes, deeply original for its time, that civilization (as opposed to barbarity) is feminine. Green wasn't saying that, nor were any of the other histories or encyclopediae of the time. Likewise, the greatness to be found in "The Outline of History" exists in its trajectory, the way in which it sets the progress of society as a function of democracy. Wells has often been called prophetic, and that is the virtue of his book: The failure of the League of Nations -- the rejection of his notion of progress -- led to another century of butchery.

Plagiarism isn't a legal term. For that we have "copyright." On the contrary, it is a condemnation to infamy. To be called a plagiarist is in effect to be burned in effigy. Wells does not deserve that epithet. Our disdain for him personally is quite beside the point; our assessment of his legacy must be a function of his ideas, and their expression, in his books. Ultimately, plagiarism is a matter of originality, not origination. (We wouldn't think less of Picasso's art if we learned he'd stolen his paints.) For all its flaws and ill-gotten gains, "The Outline of History" is an astounding work of creativity.

So it goes with Doris Kearns Goodwin. As a matter of plagiarism, once we strike questions of copyright, her case isn't any different from that of J.K. Rowling, who's been repeatedly accused by author Nancy Stouffer of stealing the term 'muggle.' Stouffer's muggles, who appeared in some booklets printed in the '80s, were "tiny hairless creatures with elongated heads who live in a fictional post-apocalyptic land called Aura." In Rowling's Harry Potter novels, 'muggle' is, quite the contrary, what wizards call ordinary people. Charming as the word may be, Rowling's real creativity is to be found in the world in which said creatures live. The world of the imagination. A place unknown to Stouffer. (Or perhaps not entirely so; the judge who dismissed her suit against Rowling and enjoined her from making further claims that Harry Potter infringes on her copyright also ruled that Stouffer had forged and altered evidence she presented in the case and "failed to correct her fraudulent submissions even when confronted with evidence undermining the validity of those submissions." Stouffer has filed a motion for reconsideration.)

And what of Goodwin? Surely our respect for her as an historian isn't a question of her access to a good library. So she copied a few phrases. So she broke a few rules. A reputation should be taken away only on the same grounds as it was given: Cheated ideas. A stolen story.

A book that moves us, whether fiction or history, is a great rarity. We ought not be so foolish, so frivolous, as to dismiss it, and toss its author away, on a technicality.

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