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English files by the latest mail state that in the Central Criminal Court on the 2nd of April, before Mr. Justice Collins, John Sholto Douglas, Marquis of Queensberry, was indicted for unlawfully and maliciously writing and publishing a false, malicious, and defamatory libel of and concerning Mr. Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. The case excited great public interest, and the court was crowded. The defendant pleaded not guilty, and put in a plea alleging that the libel was true, and that it was published for the public interest. Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., Mr. Charles Matthews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys appeared for the prosecution; Mr. Carson, Q.C., Mr. C.F. Gill, and Mr. A. Gill defended. Mr Besley, Q.C., and Mr. Monckton watched the case for a person interested.

Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., in opening the case, said that the libel was published in the form of a card, which was left by Lord Queensberry at a club to which Mr. Oscar Wilde belonged. It was a visiting card of Lord Queensberry's with his name printed upon it and it had written upon it certain words which formed the libel complained of. The words of the libel were not directly an accusation of the gravest of all offences - the suggestion was that there was no guilt of the actual offence, but that in some way or other the person of whom those words were written did appear - nay, desired to appear and pose to be a person inclined to the commission of that gravest of all offences. But in the plea which defendant has brought before the Court there were a series of accusations mentioning the names of persons, and it was said with regard to those persons that Mr. Wilde had solicited them to commit with him the grave offence, and that he had been guilty with each and all of them of indecent practices. In 1893 a man named Wood, to whom some clothes had been given by Lord Alfred Douglas, alleged that he had found in the pocket of a coat four letters addressed by Mr. Wilde to Lord Alfred, and called upon Mr. Wilde in 1893, representing that he was in great distress and was in need of monetary assistance to go to America. He produced some of the letters, and Mr. Wilde, more out of sympathy than anything else, gave him £15 or £20 for them. They were mere ordinary letters of no consequence or importance whatever. But, as generally happened, a further demand for an alleged suppressed letter was made later on, when it became known that Mr. Oscar Wilde's play A Woman of No Importance was about to be produced at the Haymarket Theatre. That letter was in the nature of a prose sonnet, and Mr. Wilde had ideas of publishing it - in fact, it was paraphrased in an æsthetic magazine called the Spirit Lamp, edited by Lord Alfred Douglas. The letter was as follows:

"My own Boy, - Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red-rose leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim-built soul walks between passion and poetry. No Hyacinthus followed Love so madly as you in Greek days. Why are you alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do go there and cool your hands in the gray twilight of Gothic things. Come here whenever you like. It is a lovely place and only lacks you. But go to Salisbury first. Always with undying love, Yours, Oscar."

The words of that communication, Sir Edward Clarke continued, might seem extravagant to their more prosaic and commercial experiences, but Mr. Wilde was a poet, and the letter was considered by him as a prose sonnet, and as an expression of true poetic feeling, and had no relation whatever to the hateful and repulsive suggestions incorporated in the plea in this case. Early in 1894 Mr. Wilde became aware that the marquis was writing letters which affected his character, and during the year Mr. Wilde ordered that Lord Queensberry should never be admitted to his house. On February 28th Mr. Wilde went to the Albemarle Club, and there received from the hall-porter the libellous card left by Lord Queensberry on the 18th of that month. Sidney Wright, hall-porter of the Albemarle Club, of which Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Wilde are members, having given evidence, Mr. Oscar Wilde was examined by Sir Edward Clarke. In November, 1892, he was lunching with Lord Alfred Douglas at the Café Royal. He knew there had been some estrangement between Lord Queensberry and Lord Alfred Douglas. On that occasion Lord Queensberry was at the Café Royal, and at the suggestion of witness Lord Alfred Douglas went across and shook hands with Lord Queensberry, and a friendly conversation ensued. In 1893 witness heard that some letters which he had addressed to Lord Alfred Douglas had come into the hands of certain persons. A man named Wood told witness that he had found some letters in a suit of clothes which Lord Alfred Douglas had given him. When Wood entered the room he said to witness "I suppose you will think very badly of me." Witness replied, "I heard that you had some letters of mine to Lord Alfred Douglas, which you certainly ought to have handed back to him." Wood then handed him three or four letters, and said that they had been stolen from him by a man named Allen, and that he had had to employ a detective to get them back. Witness read the letters and said he did not think them of any importance. Wood said he was very much afraid of staying in London on account of the men who had taken the letters from him, and he wanted money to go to America. Witness asked him what better opening he would have as a clerk in America than he had in England. Wood repeated that he wanted to go to America, as he was afraid of the men who had taken the letters from him. Witness handed him £15 and retained the letters. In April, 1893, Mr. Beerbohm Tree handed witness what purported to be a copy of a letter. A man named Allen subsequently called upon the witness, who felt that Allen was a man who wanted money from him, and he said, "I suppose you have come about my beautiful letters to Lord Alfred Douglas? If you had not been so foolish as to send a copy to Mr. Beerbohm Tree I should have been very glad to pay you a large sum for the letter as I consider that it is a work of art." Allen said a very curious construction could be put on the letter. The witness said in reply, "Art is rarely intelligible to the criminal classes." Allen said, "A man had offered me £60 for it." Witness said, "If you take my advice you will go to him and sell my letter to him for £60. I myself have never received so large a sum for any prose work of that length, but I am glad to find that there is someone in England who will pay such a large sum for a letter of mine." Allen said the man was out of town. The witness said the man would come back and added, "I assure you on my word of honour that I shall pay nothing for the letter." Allen changing his manner, said he had not a single penny and was very poor, and that he had been on many occasions trying to find witness to talk about the letter. Witness said he could not guarantee his cab expenses, but handed him half a sovereign. Witness said to Allen, "The letter will shortly be published as a sonnet in a delightful magazine, and I will send you a copy." That letter was the basis of a sonnet which was published in French in the Spirit Lamp in 1893. Allen went away. About five or six minutes after a man called Clyburn came in. Witness said to him, "I cannot be bothered any more about the letter. I don't care two pence about it." Clyburn said, "Allen has asked me to give it back to you." Witness said, "Why does he give it me back?" Clyburn said, "Well, he says that you were kind to him, and that there is no use trying to rent you, as you only laugh at us." Witness looked at the letter, and, seeing that it was extremely soiled, said, "I think it quite unpardonable that better care was not taken of an original letter of mine." He said he was very sorry - it had been in so many hands. Witness took the letter then, and said, "Well, I will accept the letter back, and you can thank Mr. Allen from me for all the anxiety he has shown about the letter." He gave Clyburn half-a-sovereign for his trouble. Witness said, "I am afraid you are leading a wonderfully wicked life." He replied, "There is good and bad in every one of us." Witness told him he was a born philosopher. He then left. That letter had remained in witness' possession ever since, and he now produced it. Witness afterwards became aware that Lord Queensberry was making suggestions with regard to his character and behaviour. Those suggestions were not made in letters addressed to witness. On June 16th, 1894, Lord Queensberry and a gentleman called upon witness. The interview took place in his library. Lord Queensberry said to him, "Sit down." Witness said, "I don't allow any man to talk to me like that. I suppose you have come to apologize for the letter you have written. I could have you up any day I chose for a criminal libel for writing such a letter." He said, "The letter is privileged, as it was written to my son." Witness said, "How dare you say such things about your son and me." He said, "You were both kicked out of the Savoy Hotel at a moment's notice for your disgusting conduct." Witness said, "That is a lie." He said, "You have taken furnished rooms for him in Piccadilly." Witness said, "Some one has been telling you an absurd lot of lies about me and your son. I have not done anything of the kind." He said, "I hear that you were thoroughly well blackmailed for a letter which you sent to my son." Witness said, "The letter was a beautiful letter, and I never write except for publication." Witness then said to him, "Do you seriously accuse your son and me?" He said, "I don't say you are it; but you look it, and you pose as it. If I catch you and my son together again at any public restaurant I will thrash you." Witness said, "I do not know what the Queensberry rules are. The Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot at sight," and he then told Lord Queensberry to leave his house. He said he would not do so. Witness told him he would have him put out by the police. He said that it was a disgusting scandal. Witness said: - "If it is so, you are the author of that scandal and no one else. The letters you have written about me are infamous, and I see that you are merely trying to ruin your son through me. I will not have in my house a brute like you." Witness went into the hall, followed by Lord Queensberry and the gentleman. He said to his servant, pointing to Lord Queensberry, "This is the Marquis of Queensberry, the most infamous brute in London. You are never to allow him to enter my house again, and should he attempt to come in you must send for the police." Lord Queensberry then left. It was not the fact that witness had taken rooms in Piccadilly for his son. It was perfectly untrue that witness had been required to leave the Savoy Hotel. Witness had nothing whatever to do with the Chameleon except to send his contribution, and he knew nothing whatever about the story of "The Priest and the Acolyte" contained in it. He highly disapproved of "The Priest and the Acolyte," and expressed that disapproval to the editor. Witness' attention had been called to the allegations in the plea impugning his conduct with different persons. There was not the slightest truth in any one of those allegations.

Replying to Mr. Carson, Q.C., in cross-examination, Mr. Oscar Wilde said that he was 40 years of age in October last, and Lord Alfred Douglas was about 24. He had known the latter since he was 20 or 21. Notwithstanding Lord Queensberry's protest, his intimacy with Lord Alfred Douglas continued to that moment, and he had stayed with him at many places, and very recently at Monte Carlo. Lord Alfred Douglas wrote poems for the Chameleon which he himself thought beautiful, and which contained no improper suggestions whatever. Witness considered that not only was the story "The Priest and the Acolyte" immoral, but worse, inasmuch as it was badly written. (Laughter). It was altogether offensive, and perfect twaddle. He took no steps to express disapproval of the Chameleon, because it would have been beneath his dignity as a man of letters to associate himself with the mere effusions of an illiterate undergraduate. He did not believe that any book or work of art had any effect on morality whatever. In writing he did not consider the effect of creating or inciting morality or immorality; he aimed neither at good nor evil, but simply tried to make a thing with some quality of beauty. Being questioned as to the morality of some of his expressions in the Chameleon article, Mr. Wilde said there was no such thing as morality or immorality in thought, but there was such a thing as immoral emotion. The realisation of one's self was the prime aim in life, and to do so through pleasure was finer than through pain. On that point he was on the side of the Greeks. He still believed that, as he then wrote, a truth ceased to be true when more than one person believed it. That would be his metaphysical definition of truth - something so personal that could never be appreciated by two minds. The condition of perfection was idleness; the life of contemplation was the highest life. There was no such thing as a moral or an immoral book, to his mind. Books were either well or badly written. Well written, they produced a sense of beauty - the highest sense of which a human being could be capable - and badly written, a sense of disgust. No work of art ever put forward views, for views belonged to people who were not artists. The views of the illiterate were unaccountable; he was concerned only with his own views, and not with those of other people. He had found wonderful exceptions to the rule that the majority of people were Philistines or illiterates, but he was afraid that as a rule most people did not live up - for want of culture - to the position he asserted in these matters, and were not even cultivated enough to draw a distinction between a good and a bad book. He had no knowledge of the views of ordinary individuals, and was therefore unable to say whether the sentiments enunciated in "Dorian Gray" might lead ordinary individuals to see a certain tendency in them. Being vigorously cross-examined by Mr. Carson as to certain passages in "Dorian Gray," he denied that he had suggested anything to which exception could be taken, adding, amid laughter, in which everyone joined, that he had never given adoration to anyone except himself. There were people in the world, he regretted to say, who could not understand the intense devotion, affection and admiration that an artist could feel for a wonderful and beautiful personality. Being brought to the facts of the case, apart from these generalities, Mr. Wilde said he wrote the letter to Lord Alfred Douglas from Torquay, the latter being at the Savoy Hotel. He thought it a beautiful and a poetical letter - the letter of an artist and a poet. He had never written to other people in the same strain, nor even to Lord Alfred Douglas again, for he did not repeat himself in style. Mr. Carson here read a letter to Lord Alfred Douglas from the witness in similar terms to the other, which the witness explained by saying that it was a tender expression of his great admiration for Lord Alfred. Being interrogated as to various allegations in the plea of justification, Mr. Wilde gave them an indignant and emphatic denial. On the 4th of April, in the course of further cross-examination, Mr. Wilde was questioned about his intercourse with the man Taylor, and also about his acquaintance with young men named Mavor, Scarfe, Conway, Atkins, Parker, and Granger, of inferior social position, with whom he had dined several times, and to whom he had given presents. He remarked on several occasions that he cared nothing for "social position"; and he denied that he had ever misconducted himself with any of the young men named. In the witness's re-examination, letters were put in and read which had passed between Lord Queensberry and Lord Alfred Douglas with regard to the intimacy of the latter with Mr. Wilde. One telegram addressed to the Marquis by Lord Alfred was as follows: - "What a funny little man you are. -A.D." Mr. Carson, Q.C., in opening the case for the defence, said that Lord Queensberry withdrew nothing of what he had said or written. All he had done had been with premeditation and a determination to try and save his son. The learned counsel commented on the prosecutor's familiarity with young men who were gentlemen's servants and in similar positions, and also on the tendency of the prosecutor's writings. Eventually the charge against the Marquis of Queensberry was dismissed, and Mr. Wilde and Taylor, as the result of the revelations made in the case, were arrested and charged with grave criminal offences. [As our cablegrams have shown, the jury empannalled to try their case disagreed and were discharged. Accused will be placed upon their trial again. Meantime Mr. Wilde has been admitted to bail, himself in £2,500 and two sureties of £1,250 each.]

THE trial of the Marquis of Queensberry for libelling Oscar Wilde, and which ended in the acquittal of the Marquis and the arrest of Wilde on a serious criminal charge, was commenced in the Old Bailey Criminal Court, London, on April 3. From an English paper to hand yesterday we make the following extracts:—

In opening the case for the prosecution, Sir Edward Clarke referred to the fact that a man named Wood had been given some clothes by Lord Alfred Douglas, and he alleged that he found in the pocket of a coat

FOUR LETTERS FROM MR. WILDE TO

LORD ALFRED DOUGLAS.

Whether he did find them there or whether he stole them is matter for speculation, but the letters were handed about, and Wood asked Mr. Wilde to buy them back. He represented himself as being in need and wanting to go to America. Mr. Wilde handed him £15 or £20, and received from him three of somewhat ordinary importance. It afterwards appeared that only the letters of no importance had been given up (Sir Edward Clarke made the remark quite innocently) and the letter of some importance had been retained. At that time "A Woman of No Importance" was in rehearsal at the Haymarket Theatre, and there came to Mr. Wilde through Mr. Beerbohm Tree a document which purported to be a copy of the retained letter. It had two headings—one Babbicombe Cliff, Torquay, and the other 16 Tite-street. Shortly afterwards a man named Allan called on Mr. Wilde, and demanded ransom for the original of the letter. Mr. Wilde peremptorily refused. He said, "I look upon the letter as a work of art. Now I have got a copy I do not desire the original. Go." Almost immediately afterwards a man named Claburn brought the original and surrendered it, saying it was sent by Mr. Wood. Mr. Wilde gave him a sovereign for his trouble. The letter was as follows:—

My Own Boy,— Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red-roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus whom Apollo loved so madly was you in Greek days. Why are you alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do you go there and cool your hands in the gray twilight of Gothic things? Come here whenever you like. It is a lovely place, and only lacks you. But go to Salisbury first. Always with undying love.—Yours, OSCAR.

Under examination by his counsel Wilde replied that the Marquis of Queensberry called upon him and said: "I hear you were thoroughly well blackmailed last year for a disgusting letter that you wrote to my son." Oscar replied: "The letter was a beautiful letter, and I never write except for publication."

Mr. Wilde continued: "About the end of June Lord Queensberry called upon me in the afternoon. I said to him, "I suppose you have come to apologise for the statement you made about my wife and myself in a letter you wrote to your son. Lord Queensberry said, 'If I catch you and my son together again I will thrash you.' I said, 'I do not know what the Queensberry rules are, but the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot at sight.' I then told him to leave my house. He said he would not do so. I told him I would have him put out by the police. Mr. Wilde then went into the hall and said to his servant, 'This is the Marquis of Queensberry, the most infamous brute in London. Never allow him to enter my house again. Should he attempt to come in you may send for the police.'"

In cross-examination Wilde was questioned respecting the vicious tendencies of a story which had appeared in a magazine to which he was a contributor, when the following questions and answers were given:—

You have no doubt whatever that was an improper story? — From the literary point of view

IT WAS HIGHLY IMPROPER.

It is impossible for a man of literature to judge it otherwise, by literature meaning treatment, selection of subject, and the like. I thought the treatment rotten and the subject rotten. You are of opinion there is no such thing as an immoral book? — Yes.

May I take it that you think the story was not immoral? — It was worse, it was badly written. (Laughter.)

In reply to another question Wilde said: I do not believe that any book or work of art ever had any effect on morality whatever.

And the following dialogue ensued:

Am I right in saying that you do not consider the effect in creating morality or immorality? — Certainly, I do not.

So far as your work is concerned you pose as not being concerned about morality or immorality?—I do not know whether you use the word "pose" in any particular sense.

It is a favorite word of your own? — Is it? I have no pose in this matter. In writing a play, or a book, or anything, I am concerned entirely with literature, that is, with art. I aim not at doing good or evil, but in trying to make a thing that will have some quality of beauty.

Listen, sir. Here is one of the "Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young"; "Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others." You think that true? — I rarely think that anything I write is true.

Did you say rarely? — I said rarely. I might have said never; not true in the actual sense of the word.

"Religions die when they are proved to be true." Is that true? — Yes, I hold that. It is a suggestion towards a philosophy of the absorption of religions by science, but it is too big a question to go into now.

Do you think that was a safe axiom to put forward for the philosophy of the young?—Most stimulating. (Laughter.)

"If one tells the truth one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out." — That is a pleasing paradox, but I do not set very high store on it as an axiom.

Is it good for the young? — Anything is good that stimulates art in whatever age.

Whether moral or immoral? — There is no such thing as morality or immorality in art. There is immoral emotion.

"Pleasure is the only thing one should live for." — I think that the realisation of one's self is the prime aim of life, and to realise one's self through pleasure is finer than to do so through pain. I am on that point entirely on the side of the ancients—the Greeks.

"A truth ceases to be true when more than one person believes it?" — Perfectly. That would be my metaphysical definition of truth; somewhat so personal that the same truth could never be appreciated by two minds.

"The condition of perfection is idleness?" — Oh, yes, I think so. Half of it is true. The life of contemplation is the highest life.

"There is something tragic about the enormous number of young men there are in England at the present moment who start life with perfect profiles, and end by adopting some useful professions." — I should think that the young have enough sense of humor.

You think that is humorous? — I think it is an amusing paradox.

In answer to other questions, he said: The views of illiterates on art are unaccountable. I am concerned only with my view of art. I don't care twopence what other people think of it.

The majority of people would come under your definition of Philistines and illiterates? — I have found wonderful exceptions.

Do you think that the majority of people live up to the position you are giving us? — I am afraid they are not cultivated enough.

Not cultivated enough to draw the distinction you have drawn between a good and a bad book? — Certainly not.

The affection and love of the artists of Dorian Grey might lead an ordinary individual to believe that it might have a certain tendency? — I have no knowledge of the views of ordinary individuals.

You did not prevent the ordinary individual from buying your book? — I have never discouraged him.

At a later stage the following letter, written by Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas, was read:—

Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C.

Dearest of all boys,—Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysey, you must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see so, so Greek and gracious, distorted with passion. I cannot listen to your young lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner—

Here a word is indecipherable, but I will ask the witness—

than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is £40 for a week. Why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must have no money, no credit.—Your own OSCAR.

Is that an ordinary letter? — Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter.)

Have you got his letter in reply? — I do not recollect what letter it was.

It was not a beautiful letter? — I do not remember the letter.

You describe it as "delightful red and yellow wine to you?" — Oh, of course, a beautiful letter, certainly.

What would you pay for that beautiful letter? — I could not get a copy.

How much would you give if you could get a copy? — Oh, I do not know.

Was this one of yours a beautiful letter? — Yes; it was a tender expression of my great admiration for Lord Alfred Douglas. It was not like the other—a prose poem.

Towards the close of the case for the prosecution counsel for the defence read the following postcard, addressed by Lord A. Douglas to Lord Queensberry:—

As you return my letters unopened I am obliged to write on a postcard. I write to inform you that I treat your absurd threats with absolute indifference. Ever since your exhibition at O.W.'s house I have made a point of appearing with him at many public restaurants, such as the Berkeley, Willis' Rooms, the Café Royal, &, and I shall continue to go to any of these places whenever I choose and with whom I choose. I am of age and my own master; you have disowned me at least a dozen times, and have very meanly deprived me of money. You have therefore no right over me, either legal or moral. If O.W. was to prosecute you in the criminal courts for libel you would get seven years penal servitude for your outrageous libels. Much as I detest you, I am anxious to avoid this for the sake of the family; but if you try to assault me I shall defend myself with a loaded revolver, which I always carry; and if I shoot you, or if he shoots you, we should be completely justified, as we should be acting in self-defence against a violent and dangerous rough, and I think if you were dead not many people would miss you.

A.D.

There are some portions of the evidence that we do not care to publish. The above gives a fair idea of the procedure and the attitude assumed by Wilde until the crash came.