NAMES AND TITLES
Jack Worthing, J.P.:
Jack – Short for John, as noted in the script (“a notorious domesticity”); not only one of the most common of English names but connoting a certain solid middle-class respectability.
Worthing – Name taken from a popular and elegant seaside resort of the period, located on the English coast in West Sussex. An easy jaunt from London via the Brighton line, by the late 1800s Worthing was growing ever more popular with a wider range of visitors. In 1890, Worthing had been designated a royal Borough. Wilde wrote The Importance of Being Earnest while staying in Worthing.
J.P. - Justice of the Peace. The position was given to an upper-class country gentleman and involved the administration of justice on a local level, chiefly dealing with minor infractions (though the post had once entailed a broader range of duties, many had been cut through reforms in the judicial and political system). Intensive legal training or knowledge was not necessary or expected in obtaining the post of J.P., as it was given based on land ownership and position in the community.
Algernon Moncrieff:
Algernon – English name, particularly upper class and of the period, derived from and old French term for “mustached” or “whiskered.” Its French origins subtly indicate class (however immoral the French may have seemed, they had long held an association in England with royalty), rooted as far back as the Norman invasion. May (or may not) be a veiled allusion to Algernon Charles Swinburne, the notoriously decadent Pre-Raphaelite (only just Wilde’s senior) whose career as poet, critic, and dramatist and radically dissipated youth presaged Wilde’s own.
Moncrieff – A traditional Scottish family name dating to the 1200s, it originated in the area around Perth, and is thought to have some family connection to King Duncan (yes, that Duncan). Sir Thomas Moncreiffe was Clerk of the Exchequer and Treasury during the reigns of Charles II, James VII, and II, and William and Mary. Sir Thomas bought land and became first in a line of baronets inheriting the family estate.
Lady Bracknell:
Lady – Title taken according to the English peerage system, which separates the aristocracy and landed gentry into ranks. Titles among the aristocracy pass to the eldest son, and so keep within the family line (e.g., Gwendolen’s brother, Gerald—assuming that she has no other brothers—would become Lord Bracknell when his father died). The highest non-royal rank is that of a duke, followed by marquess, earl, viscount, and baron. Below that, titles were not hereditary. Different terms of address would be used for each rank, and their wives and children would also be addressed accordingly. Given his designation, the fact that his wife is called “Lady,” and the fact that his daughter bears the title “Honourable,” it would appear that Lord Bracknell is a Baron.
Bracknell – Town located in Berkshire, to the west of London. The name may mean “the nook or secret place of Bracca.” Or (as suggested by the site of the town’s council) it may mean “bracken-covered secret place.” Or it could relate to the Old English bracan for “to break” (or how about braccas for breeches?). Wherever the truth may lie, Bracknell was home to the mother of Lord Alfred “Bosie” Douglas, Wilde’s young lover.
Hon. Gwendolen Fairfax:
Hon. - Actually not an indication that the young lady comes from Hampden, it’s short for “Honourable.” This is Gwendolen’s honorary designation by virtue of her father’s title; the daughters of viscounts and barons [see Lady, above] were allowed the designation “Honourable,” though it was never used in direct address or used on the cards for paying calls.
Gwendolen – Welsh name meaning “white (or blessed) ring,” a variant spelling of Gwendolyn. In his History of the Kings of Briton, Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote of a Queen Gwendolen who was abandoned by her husband, the king, for another woman. In response, she raised a rebellion that led to her husband’s death, seized control of the kingdom, ordered the offending woman drowned, and went on to reign for fifteen years. No pushover.
Fairfax – From the Old English for “fair-haired” or “lovely tresses” (fæger + feax).
Lane, a manservant:
Lane – According to Richard Ellmann’s biography of Wilde, the manservant was named for Wilde’s publisher John Lane (1854-1925), who published A Woman of No Importance and Lady Windermere’s Fan, among other works.
manservant – Typically, well-to-do bachelors kept manservants to handle or help with their daily tasks, from general housekeeping to cooking to waiting on guests. A manservant would be referred to by his surname only. Those who kept a manservant were obligated to pay a luxury tax. Perhaps the most famous character of the type is P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves (whose esteemed-if-feckless master lived, like Algernon, on Half-Moon Street).
Cecily Cardew:
Cecily – From Cecilia, which likely stemmed from a name rooted in the Latin caecus, for “blind.” In Catholicism, see also Saint Cecilia, the patron saint of music who led many to baptism and faith, and was martyred for her unbending piety. The high-born Cecilia convinced her husband to be baptized and accept God rather than despoil her virginity. Having been baptized, her husband convinced his brother, and the conversions continued from there.
Cardew – An alternate of the ancient name Carew, meaning “black fort.” May also be linked to a term related to wool manufacture (“carding” involved separating and straightening strands of wool), emphasizing Cardew’s background in trade.
Laetitia Prism, a governess:
Laetitia – Latin for “joy” or “happiness.”
Prism – A prism distorts or reconfigures anything that passes through its surface, breaking light into bands of color. The word itself comes from the Greek for “something that has been sawn.”
governess – The position of governess was one of the few more genteel occupations available at the time to unmarried women, be they older or younger. A governess often lived with wealthy families and offered a private education, teaching younger children of both sexes and then young women alone after the boys had gone off to “public” (private) school. Governesses were in many ways surrogate mothers, often spending more time with children than did the biological parents (or taking their place when they were dead), instructing them in educational topics but also preparing them for life and serving as companions. This could be a very desirable position, and in the case of large families might last for many years.
Canon Frederick Chasuble, D.D.:
Canon – In the Church of England, a clergyman with duties connected to the cathedral (this included leading mass, among other responsibilities).
Frederick – Name of German origin, meaning “peaceful ruler.” May be a reference to Frederic Nietzsche and his German skepticism, or perhaps a glancing reference to Frederick III of Germany, who married Victoria (the queen’s daughter) in 1858.
Chasuble – Somewhat ironically for an Anglican clergyman, his name is that of the principal vestment of Roman Catholic priests for the celebration of mass, the over/outer garment. It may in part reflect a lifelong fascination with Catholicism on Wilde’s part, fashionable at the time, and potentially part of the university milieu in which Canon Chasuble may have been educated (under the influence of leading figures like Cardinal Newman and others).
D.D. – Doctor of Divinity. Such a degree would have been obtained from studies at a leading university, perhaps at Oxford or Cambridge—often the pursuit of academically capable younger sons of the aristocracy (who would not inherit) or those from families without personal wealth. A pathway to a respectable and secure, if modest, living. Indication of an educated man but not necessarily one of great religious conviction.
Merriman, a butler:
Merriman – According to Ellmann’s biography of Wilde, the butler was originally to be called Mathews, after publisher Elkin Mathews, who worked with John Lane (see Lane, above). “Merriman” may also be a wry pun.
butler – The presence of a butler, that indispensably useful servant, indicated significant wealth and status: a household with a butler almost invariably kept numerous other servants, of whom the butler was the effective head. Indeed, in households having a great many servants, these kept to a tiered structure of their own, almost another version of the class scale. Privy to many of a household’s secrets, butlers were noted for being infinitely discreet. There have been many fictional treatments of butlers, who seem to be the favorite character type of some mystery writers. For pretty accurate representations of the butler within the microcosm of the English home, see Upstairs, Downstairs; The Remains of the Day; or Gosford Park.
LOCATIONS
The Albany
Well-known apartment housing for bachelors in London, located near Piccadilly and next to the Royal Academy. Bachelor housing was not uncommon among the wealthier set, for many took furnished bed-sitting rooms as they were called (one-bedroom flats)—even married men would have them on occasion as an alternative to gentlemen’s clubs, getting away from women, home, responsibility, or whatever (perhaps just as a pied-à-terre in the city if they had country homes). The Albany was historically somewhat notorious as an address for the more rambunctious set of single men, and for homosexuals. Wilde frequently “took rooms” himself, or for other men, as a convenient rendezvous away from home. In his case, it was partly for work and partly for pleasure, obviously. [see map]
“…I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes.” (Jack, 8)
Belgrave Square
This fashionable square was located at the heart of the increasingly exclusive and elegant Belgravia area of London’s West End—an area that was being populated with large, fashionable townhouses like New York’s Park Avenue.
“Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is let by the year to Lady Bloxham.” (Jack, 19)
Club
Clubs were all the rage during the 19th century; the classes did not, of course, mix within clubs (nor did genders, though as the century moved on, women were at last able to secure clubs of their own). Among the upper classes, clubs such as Algy references were highly selective private facilities, often based on a set of common interests or experiences (military branch, university affiliation, professional occupation, etc.) providing men with a place to socialize and dine, or even a place to live. They were particularly popular with young bachelors seeking amusement or company; for married men, clubs also offered a refuge from home life. Wilde himself belonged to one such club; it was there that his lover’s father, the Marquess of Queensbury sought him in vain and instead left the infamous card addressed “To Oscar Wilde, posing so[m]domite,” which precipitated the three trials that ultimately left Wilde bankrupt and in prison.
“Well, let us go the Club.” (Algernon, 25)
Empire
Almost certainly the one known simply as the Empire, which was one of London’s most prominent variety halls. Located in Leicester Square, it was unique in that its patrons were mostly of the upper class (most halls, havens of lowbrow diversion that they were, catered to the working or middle class), who lent to the hall the atmosphere of a club. The Empire offered a focus on spectacle, with performances ranging from burlesques to ballets to dumb shows. Along with upper class men of a rowdier and more adventurous bent, the Empire attracted such questionable patrons as prostitutes. An evening at the Empire was, then, definitely not to be shared with proper ladies.
“Well, we might trot round to the Empire at ten?” (Algernon, 25)
Grosvenor Square
Located in the fashionable Mayfair quarter in London’s West End, Grosvenor Square was populated by wealthy upper class families, many of which came to town only during the social season and dwelt in the country for the rest of the year.
“If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence is Grosvenor Square.” (Lady Bracknell, 18)
Hertfordshire
A few counties removed from Shropshire (where Algy has tried to find Jack’s country house), Hertfordshire is located in southeastern England, somewhat to the north of London. Hertfordshire is a predominantly rural area.
“The Manor House, Woolton, Hertfordshire.” (Jack, 26)
Willis’s
That is, Willis’s Rooms, a restaurant located in London. Wilde was himself a frequenter, dining often with his young lover, Lord Alfred Douglas (“Bosie”), and other acquaintances fashionable or not (he was fond of picking up young guardsmen or working class boys and taking them out for fancy meals). Willis’s also had an element of the music hall/vaudeville palace, though until 1890, it had catered somewhat more to the upper class, offering balls as well as lectures. After 1890, it was not a place for respectable and domestic types, though was not unsuitable for lively bachelors, whose behavior might be excused for their youth and status. Effectively, Algy is skipping the family banquet to go clubbing.
“If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn’t be able to dine with you at Willis’s tonight…” (Algernon, 9)
ETIQUETTE AND HIGH SOCIETY
Bankruptcy Court
It was not uncommon for gentlemen to fall into bankruptcy, as they depended much on credit and on eventualities that might be thwarted (inheritance not coming through or not being substantial enough to cover the debt, etc.). For the upper class, those who ended up bankrupt had probably lived in lavish style (perfectly tailored suits, ornate furniture, and elaborate dinners led to staggering charges), and so those entering the Court earned a reputation of being fashionable. Thus, while the middle class fought tooth and nail against debt and loss of position, for the upper class, it was just another day, another dollar (well, pound, shilling, what you will) gone down the tube. Wilde himself lived largely on credit and was declared bankrupt soon after the opening of Earnest (on account of the infamous trials, as the show itself had been a success).
“Half of the chaps who get into the Bankruptcy Court are called Algernon.” (Algernon, 50)
call on
Most upper class women filled their afternoons with calls; that is, paying visits to various acquaintances. These visits were governed by the strictest rules of etiquette, and were accompanied by the intricate business of leaving cards. Typically, these calls (known as morning calls) would be made between about three and six, ranging from more to less formal (that is, beginning with formal acquaintances and progressing to close friends and relatives), and would last about fifteen minutes. Ladies would arrange to spend particular days receiving, waiting at home for guests rather than running out to meet others. Those who arrived might be offered a cup of tea or, if it was nearing five o’ clock, might be invited to stay for the slight refreshment known as tea. In the country, hostesses invariably provided a bit of food, assuming that traveling visitors required sustenance. Men were not restricted from paying calls, but were far less involved than were their feminine counterparts.
“…I was obliged to call on dear Lady Harbury.” (Lady Bracknell, 11)
card
When members of high society paid brief visits known as calls, they left cards in accordance with elaborate rules of etiquette. These cards helped households to keep track of their guests, as well as the cards and calls that they must return. Every lady would have a card of her own, while a daughter would share her mother’s cards until marrying or entering her mid-twenties. A young man might have cards of his own much earlier, as he was expected to venture into society alone at an earlier age. A gentleman or lady with a profession might well have one card for business, another for social visits. None of these cards were meant to be overly elaborate, and they were to be printed following carefully-specified formats.
“You, I see from your card, are Uncle Jack’s brother, my cousin Earnest, my wicked cousin Earnest.” (Cecily, 33)
cucumber sandwiches
A typical of upper-class teas, recommended particularly for the summer. These are what they seem: very thin cucumber slices, often soaked in vinegar and dressing, salted and peppered, and placed between thinly sliced buttered bread (with the crusts removed). [recipes, picture]
“…have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?” (Algernon, 1)
flirt with their husbands
Victorian codes of conduct tolerated no public displays of affection, whether among the married or unmarried. Better to keep all such affection out of the public eye, in keeping with decorum and the fashion of facades.
“The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous.” (Algernon, 9)
mercenary marriages
Upper class marriage at this time rarely hinged on earnest affection (in fact, love could well be an entirely alien concept). Greater priority was placed on finding a mate of the proper social sphere (preferably of one’s own or higher), with suitable moral qualifications and polished manners, perhaps a title, and preferably with money. Marrying into money saved many a bachelor who had fallen into debt (Wilde included), and could provide a young woman with a stable future. According to society’s rule, a man must receive permission from a girl’s parents (meaning that he must suit their sensibilities) before marrying; to do otherwise would be to run headlong into scandal. Given the power of the parents to decide, it was rare for a young woman to choose a husband of her own; often, she would be half thrust upon him during the dizzying season and not given a chance for private conference with the man.
“But I do not approve of mercenary marriages.” (Lady Bracknell, 73)
nobody knew her
The double meaning suggests that Lady Lancing was cut from society owing to her transformed behavior at the hands of the French maid. The French and their ways (see corrupt French drama) were held to be vulgar, their women loose. Any member of English society who began to behave according to variant standards (those of the French certainly included) was swiftly severed from respectable households and would find him or herself barred utterly from society (for Wilde’s treatment of this, see Mrs. Erlynne in Lady Windermere’s Fan). This was “cutting” someone, or not “knowing” them.
“And after six months nobody knew her.” (Jack, 72)
only eighteen
Cecily is the precise age to "come out" as a society debutante. During the season, 18-year-olds were introduced as marriage material for suitable men.
“Well, I am really only eighteen, but I always admit to twenty when I go to evening parties.” (Cecily, 74)
put my table completely out
In arranging a dinner, a hostess was expected to arrange seats in an order tat would best facilitate conversation and satisfactory interactions. Invitations were extended with a mind to a good mix and balance, both of number and quality of guests; in backing out, Algy would throw off both. Of course, Wilde’s wonderful exaggeration of the importance of form over function means that Lady Bracknell would banish Lord Bracknell to his room rather than unbalance the harmony of her table.
“It would put my table completely out.” (Lady Bracknell, 13)
season
Referring to the London social season. From May through July, the elite of London gathered for an intense rush of socialization aimed largely at establishing connections and matching up eligible men and women. The season included daily receptions ranging from luncheons to endless streams of calls, to full-blown, almost ostentatiously ornate balls (and that doesn’t include such events as the Henley Royal Regatta). Upper class families who lived in the country kept houses in London and so were able to dwell in the city during the season. Every household was expected to provide entertainment and welcome guests in some capacity, and would be judged based on their arrangements, closely scrutinized by alert guests.
“It is my last reception one wants something that will encourage conversation, particularly at the end of the season when everyone has practically said whatever they had to …” (Lady Bracknell, 13)
semi-recumbent
indicates one who is sprawled, leaning back. While etiquette rules dictated that women remain still and upright (a posture aided or enforced by their rigid corseting and elaborate dresses), men were allowed some freedom to sit with looser posture. Jack manages to carry even this privilege too far, however.
“Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent posture.” (Lady Bracknell, 17)
sent down
Governed by strict rules of etiquette, the very act of sitting down to dinner became a laborious and highly ritualized chore. Guests were expected to enter the room in a carefully specified order, with those of greatest importance entering first.
“[W]henever I do dine there I am always treated as a member of the family, and sent down with either no woman at all, or two.” (Algernon, 9)
slight refreshment at five o’clock
Tea: light meal, almost a snack, including a cup of tea and food such as muffins and light sandwiches - was typically taken around five o’ clock. It served a largely social function, and ladies in particular would often send invitations and make of tea a formal gathering. The Victorian upper class typically took breakfast around ten, luncheon around one, and tea around five. Tea would fortify the diner until dinner, which would be held around seven; supper could come even as late as midnight. These meals could extend for hours, and so it would not be unusual to find an English gentleman spending a fair amount of his time eating.
“I believe it is customary in good society to take some slight refreshment at five o’ clock.” (Algernon, 3)
smoking room
Though not forbidden, smoking was frowned upon, particularly in the presence of ladies. Any trace of the smell could elicit an unfavorable response from well-to-do ladies (in order to keep the offending smell off of their clothing, men typically wore smoking jackets while partaking), and Queen Victoria herself famously detested the habit. As such, specific rooms were set aside for smoking, whether at home or in a club or restaurant. Furthermore, any man passing a lady was supposed to take his cigarette from his mouth. Following the opening of Lady Windermere’s Fan, Wilde raised eyebrows and hackles when he appeared nonchalantly smoking a cigarette while addressing the audience.
“Bring me that cigarette case Mr. Worthing left in the smoking room the last time he dined here.” (Algernon, 5)
utilitarian
Indicates an action that has practical value. Most any practical work would have been vile to the upper class; ladies in particular were considered far too dainty to undertake such labor. As suits her job as governess, Miss Prism is effectively teaching Cecily the difference between the suitable occupation of a workman and of a lady: a lady must never do anything useful. Wilde himself tended to flout practicality, for beauty is (or was, for Wilde) often anything but practical. While the utilitarian emphasizes use over beauty, the upper class lady was to emphasize beauty over use. Moulton is, as specified in an earlier version of the script, the gardener.
“Surely such a utilitarian occupation as the watering of flowers is rather Moulton’s duty than yours.” (Miss Prism, 29)
MONEY
between seven and eight thousand
Jack informs Lady Bracknell that his annual income is between £7,000 and £8,000, chiefly from investments. This (equal to about 600,000 today, or nearly $1.5million) would probably be from the same Funds (fairly conservative government securities) that Cecily’s inheritance is invested in, making his income the 3-4% thrown off from a principal of over £200,000 (probably well over $20million today). Not to mention what he gets from his land, and rent on his flat on Belgrave Square.
“Between seven and eight thousand a year.” (Jack, 19)
the Funds
Investments backed by the Bank of England. Representing a reliable store of wealth, they were government bonds that gave a low yield of interest but were conservative and safe—effectively the equivalent of Treasury bills. Worth more, in many ways, than land, as the value of land (in rents and such) could (and did) plummet without warning and was often entailed to prevent selling it anyway (many of the nobles and gentry were finding themselves hurting badly for money, though they owned plenty of land). [see also agricultural depression, purple of commerce, and hundred and thirty thousand]
“Oh! about a hundred and thirty thousand pounds in the Funds.” (Jack, 72)
a hundred and thirty thousand
Cecily’s “fortune,” which was the term for one’s inherited or banked capital, not one’s actual or annual income, is quite considerable—the equivalent of anywhere from £10 to 13 million (currently double that in dollars). It puts her in the upper tier economically, and invested in the Funds (a stable if conservative investment similar to Treasury bills) could be relied on to earn about 3-4% annually and generate a tidy annuity. Obviously, not a sum to sniff haughtily at. Cecily is better endowed than CENTERSTAGE.
“Oh! about a hundred and thirty thousand pounds in the Funds.” (Jack, 72)
land or investments
Many upper class families did hold much stake in land, but over the course of the 19th Century the actual monetary benefit from country property (drawn from a combination of rents paid by tenants, income earned from the sale of farm produce or collection of timber or other resources, etc.) could be shockingly slight, particularly with the coming of England’s agricultural depression. As the mercantile classes made all the money, the landed gentry remained rich in acreage and status, but became increasingly cash poor. [see also entries for Funds and purple of commerce]
“In land, or in investments.” (Lady Bracknell, 19)
let by the year
Merely another way of saying “rented on an annual basis.” An underlying irony here is that Jack, who has money but no title, owns the property and serves as landlord for a member of the titled aristocracy.
“Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is let by the year to Lady Bloxham.” (Jack, 19)
purple of commerce
A comical inversion of expectations, purple being historically associated with aristocracy, if not royalty, while one would rise from the ranks of commerce. Bracknell, or Wilde, may be subtly acknowledging the growing reversal of position, in which wealth in the form of capital was accumulating among the commercial classes—while the aristocracy increasingly had to marry into money.
“Was he born in what the Radical papers call the purple of commerce, or did he rise from the ranks of the aristocracy?” (Lady Bracknell, 20)
ready money
Young bachelors from wealthy families often lived largely on credit, presuming that they would one day come into money (through inheritance or marriage, for instance) and thus be rid of their debts. Creditors were equally ready to believe this, thereby retaining more fashionable customers. Because of this honesty system, buying on credit came in part (rightly or not) to indicate an upstanding character. As early as his Oxford years, Wilde fell into the pitfall of overusing credit (all in the name of beauty, of course, as he required the proper decorations for his rooms); it was a habit he would never discard.
“No, sir. Not even for ready money.” (Lane, 12)
CULTURE AND ENTERTAINMENT
the corrupt French drama
To the rigidly moral English the French seemed too edgy, too open to sexual exploration and to advertising their exploits; their very theater seemed infused with lascivious doings and passion. English theater of the time was largely conventional and tended to be governed by the strict Victorian virtues; there was to be no vulgarity onstage, no indecent exploration. Wilde felt favorably toward France and often spoke longingly of Paris; in fact, after his release from prison, he spent much of his remaining time in France, and died in Paris in 1900. Wilde originally wrote his play, Salomé, in French, and it was first produced in Paris.
“That, my dear friend, is the theory that the corrupt French drama has been propounding for the last fifty years.” (Jack, 10)
dreadful popular air
Likely referring to a tune from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta; the pair had spoofed Wilde and the aesthetic movement in 1881 with Patience: or, Bunthorne’s Bride. In Patience, a character posing as an aesthete muses that in order to appear as such, “You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of your complicated state of mind, / The meaning doesn’t matter if it’s only idle chatter of a transcendental kind.” Combining the ready wit of librettist W.S. Gilbert with the pleasantly intricate music of Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900), the works of Gilbert and Sullivan were enormously popular with the English public.
“They whistle some dreadful popular air from a British opera.” (stage directions, 66)
German scepticism
Likely referring loosely to the thinking of such philosophers as the German Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), himself most often associated with Nihilism and known for the phrase “God is dead.” In general, skepticism (which extends well beyond Nietzsche and Germany) refers to an inability to know or to judge, indicating doubt even of the most firmly established facts. It could also be a sweeping generalization of the German national temperament rather than a reference to any specific school of thought. However, it is interesting that Gwendolen mentions this, as most ladies were not expected to have any notion of philosophy (though this notion was shifting with the approach of the 20th century); this, combined with Lady Bracknell’s reference to the University Extension Scheme, may indicate that Gwendolen is more thoroughly informed than many young women of her class.
“This is not the moment for German scepticism.” (Gwendolen, 67)
monthly magazines
With the advent of prodigious advances in technology and a widespread Victorian thirst for information (if not knowledge), such magazines as London Society and Strand Magazine rose to great popularity. These publications provided anything from articles to illustrations to poems, short stories, and serialized novels. They might cater to different audiences (to young women, to the middle class, to the elite), many focused on printing fiction, and some managed to cull reader bases ranging cross-country, helping to unite the thought and desires of men and women throughout England. Fashions of the day often radiated outward from London in this manner, allowing those who lived in the country or distant towns to aspire to and imitate high society’s fashions (though the fickle fashions may well have shifted by the time the news reached the distant counties).
“The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told…” (Gwendolen, 14)
Morning Post
A London newspaper that ran upper-class marriage announcements. Such papers helped to keep members of society informed of current happenings and also gave those of the middle and lower class a glimpse into their glittering lives. These accounts of society could be spread out of the city, infusing the rest of the country with the fashions established in London. As such Gwendolen’s announcement in the Morning Post would have been more widespread, more widely read and remarked, and more fashionable than Cecily’s in a county newspaper. This concern with seeing the announcement in the paper shows another sign that marriages (mercenary or otherwise) were enacted with society always in mind.
“The announcement will appear in the ‘Morning Post’ on Saturday at the latest.” (Gwendolen, 55)
three-volume novels
Also called three-decker novel, these were (surprise, surprise) published in three parts and became the plague of 19th Century British literature. Their predominance can largely be credited to Charles Edward Mudie, who was also responsible for their middle class appeal. The three-volume novel’s creation could seem less an art than a business, not so much concerned with style or substance as with churning out enough splattered words and sentiments (all along an appropriately moral line) to fill three volumes. Indeed, to meet length requirements, authors learned to pad their stories, creating the wandering, sprawling quality found in much Victorian literature. When the three-volume novel began to fizzle out after 1894, there was much rejoicing. See also Wilde in The Critic as Artist: “Anybody can write a three-volume novel. It merely requires a complete ignorance about both life and literature.” Note, too, that Wilde himself tended to be meticulous about publications, particularly of poetry, preferring aesthetically pleasing—hence, more costly—productions; he likely would have therefore been all the more opposed to the production-driven copies of three-volume novels.
“I believe that Memory is responsible for all the three-volume novels that Mudie sends us.” (Cecily, 30)
SOCIAL AWARENESS
Liberal Unionist
A party concerned especially with individual rights, the rule of law, and questions of individual conscience (according to one dictionary), but advocating keeping Britain intact as a Union with Ireland. This is particularly interesting given Wilde’s Irish heritage and his mother’s political background.
“I am a Liberal Unionist.” (Jack, 20)
modern education
During the late 1800s, the British government took a stronger hand in education, using such provisions as the Education Act of 1870 to provide schooling to children who had previously been unable to afford it, and to make education mandatory for all. The wealthy had been getting on quite well without government-regulated education, having the money to send their sons to private schools and prestigious universities, and enjoying the freedom to educate their daughters strictly from the home (perhaps with the aid of a governess). For many in the upper class, education meant little and was put to less use. Already secured of livelihood through land and inheritance, more focused on socialization, they found little use for philosophy, literature, or economics, let alone any practical skills that might be taught (the upper class was opposed to anything utilitarian). Perhaps there was some concern that further knowledge and awareness would bring questions directed toward the social system. Indeed, it was typically well-educated men (such as Wilde) who challenged Victorian values (though Oxford hadn’t exactly praised his behavior).
“The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound.” (Lady Bracknell, 18)
philanthropic work
The 19th Century saw a steep rise in societal concerns, and many Victorians began to take up the task of aiding the poor and ailing. Women of the middle class showed themselves to be particularly keen on such ventures, dedicating their spare time and energy to numerous societies (many of which were headquartered in London). This might have demonstrated a growing sense of humanity, but it has been said that much charity was sparked by more selfish reasons. Some women may have been seeking a way to spend time or improve their own skills, while others helped in order to impose their values on the poor (there was a wide-spread hope of pushing middle class values on the unruly masses). Whatever the intent, their work did improve conditions somewhat.
“I suppose one of the many good elderly women who are associated with Uncle Jack in some of his philanthropic work in London.” (Cecily, 52)
Radical papers
Publications, such as People’s Paper, that gave voice to extreme policies and were known for being outspoken, even brash. Largely connected with the working class, these papers of the “by the people, for the people” variety also supported and were supported by many among the middle class. By the end of the 19th century, radical papers had been drastically muted—though not entirely silenced—by ever-rising publication costs.
“Was he born in what the Radical papers call the purple of commerce, or did he rise from the ranks of the aristocracy?” (Lady Bracknell, 20)
social legislation
Laws enacted to aid the cause of the poor, or of those who have suffered inhumane abuse. Social legislation came as part of a widespread tide of social reform and philanthropic work, most of which was pursued by the middle class. Social issues and extensive involvement with reform were not seen to be a proper concern for the upper class, as the problems of the lower classes were far removed and—so they felt, if they noted the poor at all—no matter of theirs. Lady Bracknell’s remark suggests that anyone mixing with such uncouth people would be liable to meet a sticky end (after all, as she observes, look at what happened during the French Revolution).
“Was he the victim of a revolutionary outrage? I was not aware that Mr. Bunbury was interested in social legislation.” (Lady Bracknell, 70)
temperance beverage
A drink acceptable to those opposing alcohol (the drink might contain either no or very slight traces of alcohol). The temperance movement grew as part of Victorian England’s mania for social reform and philanthropic work. Alcohol was branded the devil’s brew (particularly in middle class eyes), an impression perhaps egged along by the devastation caused among the working classes by the ready availability of cheap gin. Of course, none of this stopped the upper class from downing its share of liquor.
“Yes, here is the injury it received through the upsetting of the Gower Street omnibus in younger and happier days. Here is the stain on the lining caused by the explosion of a temperance beverage, an incident that occurred at Leamington.” (Miss Prism, 80)
University Extension Scheme
These were courses that could be considered early developments in adult education, offered by universities to non-resident students and auditors. As with her reference to German scepticism, this may indicate that Gwendolen is more thoroughly informed than many young women of her class.
“Her unhappy father is, I am glad to say, under the impression that she is attending a more than usually lengthy lecture at the University Extension Scheme on the Influence of a Permanent Income on Thought.” (Lady Bracknell, 69)
TRANSPORTATION
Brighton Line
Prior to 1924, Victoria Station was essentially two separate stations: The London Brighton South Coast Railway station and the London Chatham and Dover Railway station. The Brighton line itself connected London with Brighton, a popular seaside town located on the southern coast of England in East Sussex, approximately eleven miles east of Worthing. The first train from London to Brighton arrived in 1841.
"The Brighton Line.” (Jack, 21)
dog-cart
An open, two-wheeled cart that was drawn by horses. The cart seated a driver and two passengers, and was constructed to safely carry dogs (hence, of course, the name). Only the wealthy were able to afford to keep a cart and attendant horses, as well as the servants to maintain and drive these. Such carts would often be used for leisurely excursion as well as basic transportation. [picture]
“Merriman, order the dog-cart at once.” (Jack, 44)
omnibus
Horse-drawn wagon built to support many passengers, who paid to catch a ride. The omnibus (from Latin meaning “by, with, or from everybody”) became a popular mode of transportation within a city, following a regular route. The omnibus was particularly useful for those who could not afford to take a smaller, more fashionable cab. London’s system was overseen by the London General Omnibus Company. The word was eventually shortened to just ‘bus….
“Yes, here is the injury it received through the upsetting of the Gower Street omnibus in younger and happier days.” (Miss Prism, 80)
Railway Guide
A train timetable. Such guides could be almost overwhelmingly comprehensive, as they were by this time many trains to note. England’s first passenger-carrying railway, running between Liverpool and Manchester, had opened in 1830. Although wary at first, the English had quickly grasped the benefit of this mode of transport, and as improvements were made (for comfort, speed, and safety), travel by train became immensely popular. Suddenly, it was possible to make quick trips from one end of England to another, to visit acquaintances and relations or simply take a day’s trip to some place more amenable (say, a seaside resort). The rise of the railway came as part of the 19th Century’s rapidly increasing pace of life.
“Then picks up the Railway Guide.” (stage direction, 26)
Victoria Station
Major railway station in London. Until 1924, essentially composed of two separate stations: the London Brighton South Coast Railway (the Brighton Line) and the London Chatham and Dover Railway Station.
“In the cloak-room at Victoria Station.” (Jack, 21)
MISCELLANY
agricultural depression
The 1870s heralded an economic depression in England that was to last beyond the turn of the century. The depression could be largely attributed to the rise of global industry and increased competition with other nations; Britain was not able to keep up in the economic race (one of many signs that the Empire was perhaps not eternal or all-powerful), and a devastating outbreak of foot and mouth disease in 1883 did not help matters any. Partly as a result of this, land values took a turn for the worse, causing difficulties for many of the aristocracy, who claimed and might be supported by their expansive tracts of land. Indeed, as British merchants were rising through accumulations of cash, the aristocracy had begun to falter, having much land (becoming steadily less valuable) and little money.
“Ah, this is what the newspapers call agricultural depression, is it not?” (Cecily, 57)
as a man sows, so let him reap
From the Bible, Galatians 7:6: “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” This may be taken to mean that actions determine fate, or in the more moralistic Victorian framework, that they at least ought to.
“I am not in favour of this modern mania for turning bad people into good people at a moment’s notice. As a man sows, so let him reap.” (Miss Prism, 30)
Bunburyist
When a young man, Wilde may have made the acquaintance of a man called Bunbury (Richard Ellman suggests “Henry S. Bunbury”). It is more than likely that he was part of the rather extensive, historical Anglo-Irish family of Bunbury—which originated in the 16th Century and continues to this day. Among various noteworthy members of the Bunbury clan, one was the aunt of Alfred, Lord Tennyson (author of the poem “Come into the Garden, Maude” sung in this production in a popular Victorian setting.)
“…I have always suspected you of being a confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I am quite sure of it now.” (Algernon, 7)
Egeria
A nymph (or demi-goddess) from Roman mythology who taught and advised the second king of Rome; hence, a trusted counselor or wise teacher. Chasuble is demonstrating his classical education, which would have been the foundation of his training for his Doctorate of Divinity.
“But I must not disturb Egeria and her pupil any longer.” (Chasuble, 31)
General
The upper ranks in the British army, including those of generals, were almost uniformly (!) filled by members of the upper class, who paid to acquire their commissions. To maintain the life of an officer, it was necessary to have an outside source of income, as the costs of uniforms and the like (frequently including horses) far outweighed the salary earned in the military. Notwithstanding Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore, stories of men rising from office clerk to “ruler of the Queen’s Navies” (or Armies) were unheard of, and there were not the same opportunities to rise by merit as enjoyed by, say, a Ulysses S. Grant in the States. That he started off as a Lieutenant and was able to rise to General, and that his career spanned from at least 1840-1869, suggests that Moncrieff père made a career of the military, a fairly typical pursuit.
“I cannot at the present moment recall what the General’s Christian name was.” (Lady Bracknell, 82)
Gorgon
In classical Greek mythology, one of three hideous beasts led by Medusa; sisters with brazen claws, monstrous teeth, and snakes in place of hair. It was said that their mere glance turned victims to stone. More generally, anything (or anyone) especially dreadful.
“Never met such a Gorgon. … I don‘t really know what a Gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady Bracknell is one.” (Jack, 22)
manna in the wilderness
According to the Bible (Exodus 16), the Israelites—freed from their life of slavery in Egypt, forced to wander the desert for forty years—were sustained by a diet of manna, bread from heaven. That Chasuble could and did use the story for so many sermons indicates the fact that the passage is open to interpretation. Wilde himself was fascinated by Catholicism and tended to interpret Biblical stories according to his own tastes.
“My sermon on the meaning of the manna in the wilderness can be adapted to almost any occasion, joyful or, as in the present case, distressing. I have preached it at harvest celebrations, christenings, confirmations, on days of humiliation and festal days.” (Chasuble, 38)
Maréchal Niel
A variety of yellow climbing rose. Among the tangles and strict rules of etiquette, young lovers found alternate methods of communicating their feelings. One way was through the use of flowers, for the Victorians assigned explicit symbolism to various flowers, and presentation of a single specimen could speak volumes. Roses in general were said to symbolize love. Yellow roses could be connected to joy, friendship, freedom, and perhaps even infidelity. Pink roses spoke more toward grace, happiness, admiration, and even secret love.
“A Maréchal Niel?” (Cecily, 35)
metaphysical speculation
Though the term “metaphysical” carries many different connotations, in a very basic sense, it indicates notions and supposed truths that cannot be known or verified by human senses. Practical as many Victorians were, they would hardly have had the time for such speculation. For the typical Victorian, it was enough to know that the sun rose and set, that a respectable husband or moneyed bride waited in the future, and that tea could be expected at five o’ clock.
“Ah, that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.” (Gwendolen, 15)
Oxonian
A graduate of Oxford University, along with Cambridge one of the two truly elite universities in England. Though there was academic rigor, it was typical for upper class men to attend a prestigious university, and equally typical that they not make practical use of their education—if indeed they acquired any at what often served them as an extended finishing school. College often proved more useful in establishing connections than instilling knowledge. Wilde himself attended Oxford and, though his behavior raised many a stir and an unfriendly eyebrow, he famously distinguished himself in his studies.
“Untruthful! My nephew Algernon? Impossible. He is an Oxonian!” (Lady Bracknell, 74)
Quixotic
Refers to the tale of Don Quixote, as given in the early 17th-century novel by Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616). Don Quixote displayed great chivalry coupled with impossibly grand delusions, making many a heroic gesture without seeing the folly in its utter lack of proper context.
“It is rather Quixotic of you.” (Cecily, 35)
respectability
“Respectability” held different shades of meaning for the different classes, but was perhaps most strongly connected to the middle class. To be respectable was to be utterly moral and hard-working, the picture of middle class virtue. Such virtue and industrious labor was neither attractive nor impressive to those of the upper class.
“She is the most cultivated of ladies, and the very picture of respectability.” (Chasuble, 77)
Scotland Yard
Common nickname or shorthand for the Metropolitan Police force, created in 1829 and named for the location of its headquarters at 4 Whitehall Place, backing into Great Scotland Yard.
“I have been writing frantic letters to Scotland Yard about it.” (Jack, 5)
womanthrope
A word made up by Miss Prism (a neologism, in fact) for a person who hates women, a play on misanthrope and an alternative to misogynist. See also Wilde in The Critic as Artist: “It is sometimes said of them [reviewers] that they do not read all through the works they are called upon to criticise. They do not. Or at least they should not. If they did so, they would become confirmed misanthropes, or if I may borrow a phrase from one of the petty Newnham graduates, confirmed womanthropes for the rest of their lives.”
“A misanthrope I can understand--a womanthrope, never!” (Miss Prism, 36)
your book
The register in which the butler or manservant would record household accounts, purchases, and consumption, including—as here—use of the wine “cellar.” This was partly to discourage theft or fraud on the part of the servant, but was obviously subject to massive abuse. Many of these books survive and give a great look at domestic life of the day.
“Oh! … by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.” (Algernon, 1)