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Photo © Marc Brenner

Sharon D Clarke as Lady Bracknell
The National Theatre, December 2024
Photo by Marc Brenner

The Importance of Being Earnest – Footnotes

Jan 7, 2025 | Footnotes | 0 comments

The Footnotes that accompany our episode on Oscar Wilde’s trivial comedy for serious people, The Importance of Being Earnest, comprise some trivial notes on the source of Lady Bracknell’s name and the Brighton railway line, and some serious notes on the missing scene from the original draft of the play, and the trials of Oscar Wilde.

Not listened to the episode yet? You’ll find it here.

Two trivial notes
To start with, a couple of footnotes in that are in the best tradition of small but fascinating facts, at least for a theatre nerd such as myself.

First, Wilde may have come up with the name for Lady Bracknell from the fact that Lord Alfred Douglas’s mother lived in Bracknell, although the characterization of her may have owed more to his own mother. Apparently Mrs Wilde claimed somewhat fancifully to have come from aristocratic Italian ancestry, which she said linked her to the poet Dante Alighieri.

My second piece of trivia is about the all-important railway line in whose waiting room Jack Worthing was found in the handbag. At the time of the writing of the play, Victoria Station consisted of two separate but adjacent terminal stations sharing the same name. To the east was the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, which serviced Kent, and on the west the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway – the Brighton Line, which went to Worthing, the fashionable town to which the gentleman who found baby Jack was travelling at the time, and after which Jack was named.  Apparently, there was a perceived difference in class between these two railway lines, the Brighton line being deemed more upmarket, which would underline why the line where Jack was found was important, at least as a further point of Wilde’s satire on such things.

London, Brighton & South Coast Railway,
Victoria Station

Early draft manuscript of The Importance of Being Earnest, 1894
New York Public Library

The Missing Scene
During our conversation in the podcast, Max explained that Wilde’s original version of the play consisted of four acts, and included one substantial scene that was cut from the production that premiered in London. This scene is reproduced in the Methuen text edition, from a manuscript draft of the play dating from 1894. In the scene a lawyer, Mr Gribsby, arrives from London to serve a writ on “Ernest” Worthing for unpaid bills at the Savoy Hotel – these being expenses of Jack’s when he is in town and carrying on under the name of Ernest.

Ms Prism introduces Algernon to Mr Gribsby as Ernest Worthing. Of course, Algy knows that these are Jack’s debts, and he tries to suggest to Jack that as his ‘brother’ he should pay the bill for him. “What is the use of having a brother, if he doesn’t pay one’s bills for one?”  Jack initially refuses to pay, saying it would be better if his brother were taken off to prison, but Cecily intervenes and offers to pay the debt, at which point Jack relents and agrees to pay it on behalf of his so-called brother.

Of course, unbeknownst to the audience at this point, the confusion about their being brothers foreshadows the final revelation that they are in fact brothers, and all along have squabbled childishly as brothers can do.

Wilde was not entirely happy with the cuts demanded by the producer, saying sardonically, “Yes, it is quite a good play. I remember I wrote one very like it myself, but it was even more brilliant than this”.

Wilde may have included the scene originally as a nod to some of his own debts, that were incurred by the extravagance of his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. Although he may initially have regretted the excision, he did not restore the scene when he oversaw the subsequent publication of the text in 1899. As Max suggested in the podcast, he rightly decided to remove as many specific references to the real world as possible, so as to preserve the perfection of his imagined world. A completely “pain-free” world, as Max aptly described it, one that perhaps he himself yearned for.

The Trials of Oscar Wilde
Wilde’s life was anything but pain free as the play premiered in the first months of 1895. Just as he was at the very height of his fame, Wilde paradoxically found himself embroiled in the criminal court cases that would destroy his reputation and his life.

Since 1891 Wilde had been involved in a toxic on-again, off-again relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas , whom he had met when Douglas was an undergraduate at Oxford. Douglas was only 21 at the time, Wilde, 16 years his senior. Douglas’s father, the Marquess of Queensberry, was very unhappy with his son’s relationship with Wilde, and threatened to disown his son.  Wilde got caught up in this bitter battle between father and son, with the Marquess publicly insulting him by delivering a calling card to Wilde labelling him a “posing somdomite” (sic).

With Douglas’s encouragement and against the advice of his friends, Wilde charged the Marquess with libel. The Marquess could avoid conviction only by demonstrating that his accusation was in fact true.  During the trial in April 1895, the defence presented incriminating details of Wilde’s private life, including letters to Douglas, references to multiple liaisons with named young boys, and finally claiming that they had several male prostitutes who would testify that they had had sex with Wilde.

Throughout this first trial, Wilde’s performance on the stand was incorrigibly defiant. Although he was the prosecutor in the case, he found himself on the defensive much of the time, batting away attacks on the morality of his writing and his relationships with Douglas and other young men with ill-advised insouciance. A few extracts from the transcript of the trial give an idea of the tone of Wilde’s performance, because it certainly comes across like a performance.

For example, when he was asked about the style of his correspondence with Douglas, he replied, “I am ready.  I am never ashamed of the style of my writings.”
The defence counsel continued, “In letter number one you use the expression ‘Your slim gilt soul,’ and you refer to Lord Alfred’s ‘red rose-leaf lips’. The second letter contains the words, ‘You are the divine thing I want,’ and describes Lord Alfred’s letter as being ‘delightful, red and yellow wine to me.’ Do you think that an ordinarily constituted being would address such expressions to a younger man?”
To which Wilde responds, “I am not happily, I think, an ordinarily constituted being.”

And on another occasion, when asked if he had “ever adored a young man madly”, he counters, “I have never given adoration to anybody except myself.”

His witty responses earned laughs from the courtroom audience, but ultimately did not enable him to evade the truths that were being brought out against him.

Seeing that he could not win the libel case, Wilde dropped the charges, and although friends urged him to flee to France, he refused, and he was arrested the very next day and charged with “gross indecency”.  The law under which Wilde was charged dated from ten years earlier, and it provided for a sentence of “not exceeding two years”, with or without hard labour, for any man found guilty of “gross indecency” with another male, whether “in public or in private”.

The Marquess of Queensberry, 1896

Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas, 1893
British Library

The Second Trial
In the second trial that followed, the prosecution attempted to prove that Wilde had had indecent relations with several men while staying at the Savoy hotel. They also attempted to impugn him by association with homosexual poems that Douglas had written, which included the notorious phrase, the “love that dare not speak its name”. When asked to explain the phrase, Wilde made an impassioned speech presenting relationships between men as love of “a higher form”, as he called it, “such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare.  It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect.  It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are.  It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the “Love that dare not speak its name,” and on account of it I am placed where I am now.  It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection.  There is nothing unnatural about it.  It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him.  That it should be, so the world does not understand.  The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.”

His fine speech earned applause, and may have temporarily deflected the jury from the more prosaic allegations being presented, such that when asked to give their judgement, they could not reach a verdict. However, the Crown immediately applied for a retrial. Wilde was finally granted bail, having spent the previous month in prison. But he was now bankrupt, having been liable for the Marquess of Queensberry’s legal expenses from the first trial, and he now faced a new trial. At this third trial, he was found guilty, and the unsympathetic judge sentenced him to the maximum under the law, to be “imprisoned and kept to hard labour for two years.”

Prison and after
Wilde spent the full two years incarcerated in Pentonville, Wandsworth and Reading prisons respectively, subjected to mean conditions and hard labour that degraded his health. When he was moved from Wandsworth prison to Reading, he was jeered and spat at on the platform at Clapham Junction railway station. Poignantly, there is now a plaque on the platform there that reads:

Oscar Wilde 1854 – 1900
Celebrated playwright and poet, was the victim of homophobic abuse at this station whilst being transferred from Wandsworth Prison to Reading Gaol.
2.00 to 2.30 20 November 1895.

During his last year in prison in Reading, Wilde wrote De Profundis, which translates as “From the depths”, and takes the form of a long letter to Lord Douglas in which he describes his journey from his extravagant life before his arrest, to his time of spiritual reflection in prison. It was published in abridged form posthumously in 1905, and not fully until 1962.

At the end of the first trial, Wilde remained naively steadfast in his feelings for Douglas, writing to him as “My dearest boy” and my “immortal, eternal love.” However, by the end of his terrible time in prison, he wrote to a friend asking him to reclaim from Douglas all letters and possessions that he had given him, saying, “the idea that he is wearing or in possession of anything that I gave him is peculiarly repugnant to me. I cannot of course get rid of the revolting memories of the two years I was unlucky enough to have him with me, or the mode by which he thrust me in to the abyss of ruin and disgrace to gratify his hatred of his father and other ignoble passions. Even if I get out of this loathsome place…I will have nothing to do with him…He has ruined my life – that should content him. “

On the day of his release from prison in May 1897, Wilde left immediately for France, never to return to Britain or Ireland. While in exile in Paris, he arranged the publication of The Importance of Being Earnest, and he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol, a long poem commemorating the harsh reality of prison life.

His imprisonment destroyed not only his reputation, but also his spirit and his health. He wrote no more comic or dramatic works, saying, “I can write, but have lost the joy of writing”. He died in Paris only three years after leaving prison at the age of 46.

I cannot end on that sad note, preferring to think of the joy and beauty of this his last play, that stands as a beacon for free expression in art and life.

 

Plaque at Clapham Junction Railway Station

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