My Name Is John Wellington Wells
The Portable Door“My Name Is John Wellington Wells” is the song Paul Carpenter finds in Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Sorcerer when he asks Mr Tanner why the operetta matters. Its catalogue of magic and its final reference to “Number Seventy, St Mary Axe” make the song more than a curious literary allusion: it connects the name John Wellington Wells to the address of J.W. Wells & Co., offering Paul a clue in the form of a comic stage lyric.
The book and the discovery
Paul raises the question directly, asking whether the significance of Gilbert and Sullivan would make sense to Mr Tanner. Mr Tanner’s amused reply establishes that it does; he adds that he is no more interested in light opera than Paul is. The exchange makes their shared lack of enthusiasm part of the joke: the song matters here not because either man admires the genre, but because it may answer Paul’s question.
Mr Tanner sends Paul to a desk drawer, where he says a copy of the collected works of Gilbert and Sullivan can be found. He directs him to page 556 and says the relevant passage is probably bookmarked. The book is exactly where he said it would be, and the page contains a scene from The Sorcerer. Its introduction gives the date of the operetta’s first performance as 17 November 1877. The marked page and precise instruction make the discovery feel less like a chance browse than a reference Tanner has anticipated Paul would need.
A dealer’s catalogue
The song opens with its speaker’s name and trade: “My name is John Wellington Wells; / I’m a dealer in magic and spells,” before widening that occupation into a brisk inventory: “In blessings and curses / And ever-filled purses, / In prophecies, witches and knells.” The list moves between benefits, threats, predictions, and figures associated with the supernatural. Its compressed, rhyming form presents magic as a business offering an assortment of outcomes, from material prosperity to ominous foreknowledge.
The next lines make the trade more pointedly practical. A customer who wants “a proud foe to make tracks” or would “melt a rich uncle in wax” is told there is an available means to do so. The song’s comic rhythm makes these requests sound like items in a service catalogue, while their purposes suggest intimidation and harm. The lyric therefore gives its magical dealer an expansive remit: he can be approached not only for blessings or money, but also for help acting against other people.
The address as a clue
The song’s final movement names the means of access and the place to find it: “You’ve but to look in / On the resident djinn— / Number Seventy, St Mary Axe…” The phrase “resident djinn” turns a supernatural being into something associated with a fixed address, while the concluding street reference links the fantastical language of the song to the location identified in the novel as J.W. Wells & Co.’s headquarters at 70 St Mary Axe. That conjunction is the passage’s decisive revelation: the name and address associated with the firm also appear in a song about a dealer in magic.
The lyric does not explain every detail of the relationship between the operetta and the firm. Instead, it supplies Paul with a compact, memorable correspondence: John Wellington Wells is the dealer in magic and spells, and the resident djinn is found at the number on St Mary Axe. The clue works through juxtaposition and recognition rather than exposition, allowing a comic number from an 1877 stage work to carry information relevant to Paul’s present investigation.
Function in the narrative
The song converts Paul’s general question about Gilbert and Sullivan into a specific act of interpretation. Mr Tanner identifies where to look; Paul finds the exact book and page; the lyrics then bring together a name, a supernatural occupation, and a London address. Each step depends on a physical detail—the desk drawer, page 556, and the probably bookmarked passage—so the allusion operates as a clue embedded in an ordinary office object.
Its light-operatic form also creates a contrast between tone and implication. Rhymed couplets and comic phrasing present magic as briskly saleable entertainment, yet the services named include curses, hostile schemes, and a resident supernatural being. In the novel, the verse’s strongest effect is consequently double: it retains the playful surface of a song while making the connection between the theatrical John Wellington Wells and the magical business at St Mary Axe difficult for Paul to dismiss.