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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.]

At the Central Criminal Court yesterday, before Mr. Justice Collins, "John Sholto Douglas, Marquis of Queensberry," surrendered to his bail to answer an indictment charging him with "maliciously writing and publishing a false and defamatory libel of and concerning Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde."

Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., Mr. C. Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys appeared for the prosecution; Mr. Carson, Q.C., Mr. C. F. Gill, and Mr. A. Gill for the defence; and Mr. Besley, Q.C., and Mr. Monckton watched the case on behalf of Lord Drumlanrig, the eldest son of the defendant.

In answer to the formal indictment, which was read by the Clerk of Arraigns, Lord Queensberry pleaded not guilty, adding that his statement was true, and that its publication was for the public benefit.

Sir E. Clarke, in opening the case for the prosecution, said that the libel complained of was published on an ordinary visiting-card, and was left with the porter of the Albemarle Club, of which Mr. Wilde and his wife were members. It was a matter of serious moment to a gentleman of high reputation that a libel of this kind should be published respecting him, as it was calculated to gravely affect his character and position, and such action as that of Lord Queensberry could only be justified on the ground that it was absolutely true. The matter did not stop at the question whether the defendant committed the wrongful act under strong but mistaken feelings, for by the plea which he had put before the Court a much graver issue was raised. He said that his statement was true, and that it was made for the public benefit, and he furnished particulars of matters which he alleged bore out that statement. With regard to the earlier plea, which dealt with names and dates and places, it was for those who had undertaken the grave responsibility of formulating the allegations to satisfy the Jury, if they could, by means of credible witnesses that the allegations were true. Mr. Wilde, after a distinguished career at Dublin University and Magdalen College, Oxford, devoted himself to literature on its artistic side; and had written poems, many essays, and some years ago became a very public person indeed—laughed at by some and appreciated by many people—as representing a special and particular aspect of artistic literature. In the year 1884 he had the happy fortune to marry the daughter of the late Horace Lloyd, Q.C., and from that time to the present he had lived with his wife in Tite-street, Chelsea, where two sons had been born to them, and where he and his wife had been in the habit of receiving their many friends. Among those friends were Lord Alfred Douglas, who was introduced to him in the year 1801, and his brothers and Lady Queensberry, their mother. He had visited Lady Queensberry at her own home, and he and Lord Alfred Douglas had met at various places in London, as well as at Cromer, Worthing, and other places in the country. Until 1892 Mr. Wilde did not know the defendant at all, with the exception of having once met him casually in 1881, but in November, 1892, while Mr. Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas were lunching at the Café Royal, Lord Queensberry entered the room. Mr. Wilde was aware that there had been differences between the father and the son, and suggested to Lord Alfred that the opportunity was a good one for bringing about a reconciliation. Lord Alfred acted on the suggestion, shook hands with his father, and introduced him to Mr. Wilde, Lord Queensberry recalling the fact that some years previously they had met at a friend's house. Lord Queensberry partook of luncheon with him, remained in conversation for some time after Lord Alfred had left, and expressed hope that they should meet again at Torquay. In the early part of 1894 Mr. Wilde became aware that certain statements affecting his character were being circulated, and subsequently a man named Wood brought him some letters which Mr. Wilde had written to Lord Alfred Douglas, and for which he asked to be paid. Mr. Wilde gave him £15 or £20 to enable him to go to America, and received from him some letters of no importance. The play "A Woman of No Importance" was being prepared at the time for Mr. Tree's theatre, and there came into that gentleman's hands a document purporting to be a copy of a letter by Mr. Wilde, which had apparently been retained by the persons concerned in the matter. That was sent by Mr. Tree to Mr. Wilde, and shortly afterwards a man named Allen called upon Mr. Wilde, and said that he had the original of that letter, which he wanted Mr. Wilde to buy. That, however, Mr. Wilde absolutely refused to do, saying, "I have got a copy of the letter, and the original is of no use to me. I look upon it as a work of art, but as you have been good enough to send me a copy I do not want the original." He thereupon gave Allen a sovereign, or something of that kind, and sent him away. Shortly afterwards a man named Clyburn brought Mr. Wilde the original of the letter, which, he said, Allen had sent to him, as he appreciated his kindness, and Mr. Wilde gave Clyburn a sovereign also. Mr. Wilde was anxious about this particular letter because it was supposed to be of an incriminating character, and copies of it had been circulated with a view to damaging his character. Mr. Wilde, however, looked upon it as a sort of prose sonnet, and he told Allen that in all probability it would appear in sonnet form. It did so appear as a matter of fact, being published on the 4th of May, 1894, in the Spirit Lamp—an aesthetic, literary, and critical magazine—edited by Lord Alfred Douglas. On the first page was a sonnet in French, described as "A letter written in prose poetry by Oscar Wilde to a friend, and translated into rhymed poetry by a poet of no importance." It was not an exact reproduction, but a paraphrase of the letter, which was as follows:—

"My own dear Boy,— Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red-rose lips of yours should be made no less for music of 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? When do you go to Salisbury? Do go there and cool your hands in the grey twilight of Gothic things and come here whenever you like. It is a lovely place. It only lacks you; but go to Salisbury first—Always, with undying love, yours, OSCAR."

The words of that letter might appear extravagant to those who were in the habit of writing ordinary or commercial correspondence, but Mr. Wilde called it a prose sonnet, and one that he was in no way ashamed of. In the early part of 1894 Lord Queensberry again met Mr. Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas at lunch in the Café Royal, and shortly afterwards Mr. Wilde became aware that the defendant was writing letters that affected his character, and at an interview that took place in Tite-street Mr. Wilde gave instructions in Lord Queensberry's hearing that he was not to be admitted into his house. In February, 1895, another play of Mr. Oscar Wilde's—"The Importance of Being Earnest "—was about to be produced at St. James's Theatre, and information reached the management of certain intentions on the part of Lord Queensberry, who, it was remembered, made some observations in the theatre after the performance of "The Promise of May" by the late Lord Tennyson. With a view to the avoidance of any disturbance on the night of production Lord Queensberry's money was returned to him, and instructions were given that he was not to be ad-mitted. He, however, made several attempts to get into the theatre, bringing with him a bouquet made of vegetables. (Laughter.) On the 28th of February Mr. Wilde went to the Albemarle Club, and there received from the porter the card complained of, which had been left by Lord Queensberry on the 18th of the month. Proceedings were immediately taken, as the libel was direct and did not touch the relationship between Lord Queensberry and his family, and on the 2nd of March the defendant was arrested on a warrant. There were two gross allegations at the end of the plea in relation to a book entitled "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and a magazine called the Chameleon, to which Mr. Wilde contributed "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young." It was difficult to see why those allegations were made, and he should be surprised if his learned friend could get from them anything hostile to the character of Mr. Wilde. Mr. Wilde was merely a contributor to the magazine, and directly he saw a story in it entitled "The Priest and the Acolyte," which was a disgrace to literature, he wrote to the editor, and upon his insistence the magazine was withdrawn. With regard to "Dorian Gray'' it was a book that had been in circulation for five years. It was a story of a young man of good birth, great wealth, and personal beauty, whose friend painted his picture. Dorian Gray desired to remain as in the picture, which, however, aged with years. His wish was granted, and upon the picture the scars of trouble and bad conduct fell. In the end he stabbed the picture and fell dead. The picture was restored to its pristine beauty, and the friends of Dorian Gray found on the floor the body of a hideous old man. He should be surprised if his learned friend could pitch upon any passage in that book which did more than describe, as novelists and dramatists must describe, the passions and fashions of life. The learned counsel then proceeded to call witnesses.

Sidney Wright, examined by Mr. Mathews, deposed that he was hall porter at the Albemarle Club, of which both Mr. and Mrs. Wilde were members. The defendant on the 18th of February called at the Club and handed him the card produced, upon which he had previously written some words. He asked that it should be given to Oscar Wilde. He (witness) wrote the date on the card and enclosed it in an envelope, which, on the 28th of February, he handed to Mr. Wilde, giving him Lord Queensberry's message at the same time.

Mr. Carson asked no questions.

Mr. Oscar Wilde, examined by Sir E. Clarke, said—I am the prosecutor in this case, and am 39 years of age. My father was Sir William Wilde, surgeon, of Dublin, and Chairman of the Census Commission. He died when I was at Oxford. I was a student at Trinity College, Dublin, where I took a classical scholarship and the Gold Medal for Greek. I then went to Magdalen College, Oxford, where I took a classical scholarship, a first in "Mods," and a first in "Greats," and the Newdigate Prize for English verse. I took my degree in 1878, and came down at once. From that time I have devoted myself to art and literature. In 1882 I published a volume of poems, and afterwards lectured in England and America. I have written many essays of different kinds, and during the last few years have devoted myself to dramatic literature. In 1884 I married Miss Lloyd, and from that date till now have lived with her in Tite-street, Chelsea. I have two sons, the eldest of whom will be 10 in June and the second nine in November.

In 1891 did you make the acquaintance of Lord Alfred Douglas?—Yes, he was brought to my house by a mutual friend. Before then I had not been acquainted with Lady Queensberry, but since then I have, and have been a guest in her house many times. I also knew Lord Douglas of Hawick and the late Lord Drumlanrig. Lord Alfred had dined with me from time to time at my house and at the Albemarle Club, of which my wife is a member, and has stayed with us at Cromer, Goring, Worthing, and Torquay. In November, 1892, I was lunching with him at the Café Royal, where we met Lord Queensberry, and on my suggestion Lord Alfred went to him and shook hands. I was aware that there had been some estrangement between the two. Lord Queensberry joined us, and remained chatting with me until Lord Alfred had left. From the 3rd of November, 1892, till March, 1894, I did not see the defendant, but in 1893 I heard that some letters that I had addressed to Lord Alfred Douglas had come into the hands of certain persons.

Did anyone say that he had found letters of yours?—Yes, a man named Wood saw me and told me that he had found some letters in a suit of clothes that Lord A. Douglas had been good enough to give him.

Did he ask for anything?—l don't think he made a direct demand.

What happened?—When he entered the room he said, "I suppose you will think very badly of me." I replied, "I hear that you have letters of mine to Lord Alfred Douglas, which you ought to have handed back to him." He handed me three or four letters, and said that they were stolen from him the day before yesterday by a man named Allen, and that he had to employ a detective to get them back. I read the letters, and said that I did not think them of any importance. He said, "I am very much afraid of staying in London on account of this man, and I want money to go to America." I asked what better opening as a clerk he could have in America than in England, and he replied that he was anxious to get out of London, in order to escape the man who had taken the letters from him. He also said that he could find nothing to do in London. I gave him £15. The letters remained in my hand all the time.

Did some man eventually come with another letter?—A man called, and told me that the letter was not in his possession. His name was Allen.

What happened at that interview?—I felt that this was the man who wanted money from me, and said, "I suppose you have come about my beautiful letter to Lord A. Douglas. If you had not been so foolish as to send a copy of it to Mr. Beerbohm Tree, I would gladly have paid you a very large sum of money for the letter, as I consider it to be a work of art." He said, "A very curious construction could be put on that letter." I said in reply, "Art is rarely intelligible to the criminal classes." He said, "A man has offered me £60 for it." I said to him, "If you take my advice you will go to that man 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 considers a letter of mine worth £60." He was somewhat taken aback by the manner, perhaps, and said, "The man is out of town." I replied, "He is sure to come back," and advised him to get the £60. He then changed his manner, saying that he had not a single penny, and that he had been on many occasions trying to find me. I said that I could not guarantee his cab expenses, but that I would gladly give him half a sovereign. He took the money and went away.

Was anything said about a sonnet?—Yes. I said, "The letter, which is a prose poem, will shortly be published in sonnet form in a delightful magazine, and I will send you a copy of it."

As a matter of fact, the letter was the basis of the French poem that was published in the Spirit Lamp?—Yes.

It is signed "Pierre Louys;" is that the nom de plume of a friend of yours?—A young French poet of great distinction who has lived in England. About six minutes afterwards another man came whose name was Clyburn. He produced the letter from his pocket and said that Allen wanted him to take it. I said, "Why?" He said, "Well, he says you were kind to him, and there is no use in trying to 'rent' you, as you only laugh at us." I looked at the letter, and it was extremely soiled. I said, "I feel it quite unpardonable that better care was not taken of a manuscript of mine." (Laughter.) He said that he was very sorry, but it had been through so many hands. I took the letter; then I said, "Well, I accept the letter back, and you can thank Mr. Allen from me for all the anxiety he has shown about this letter." I gave him half a sovereign for his trouble, and then said, "I am afraid you are leading a wonderfully wicked life." He said, "There is good and bad in every one of us." I told him he was a born philosopher—(laughter)—and he then left.

Has the letter remained in your possession ever since?—Yes. I produce it here to-day.

I pass to the end of 1893. Did Lord Alfred Douglas go to Cairo then?—Yes, in December, 1893.

On his return were you lunching together in the Café Royal when Lord Queensberry came in?—Yes. He shook hands, and joined us, and we were on perfectly friendly terms.

Shortly after that meeting did you become aware that he was making suggestions with regard to your character and behaviour?—Yes. Those suggestions were not contained in letters to me. About the end of June there was an interview between Lord Queensberry and myself in my house. He called upon me, not by appointment, about four o'clock in the afternoon, accompanied by a gentleman with whom I was not acquainted. The interview took place in my library. Lord Queensberry was standing by the window. I walked over to the fire-place, and he said to me, "Sit down." I said to him, "I do not allow anyone to talk like that to me in my house or anywhere else. 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." I said, "I should have the right any day I choose to prosecute you for criminal libel for writing such a letter." He said, "The letter was privileged, as it was written to my son." I said, "How dare you say such things to me about your son and me?" He said, "You were both kicked out of the Savoy Hotel at a moment's notice." I said, "That is a lie. Somebody has been telling you an absurd set of lies about your son and me." He said. "I hear you were well blackmailed for a letter you wrote to my son." I said, "The letter was a beautiful one and I never write except for publication." He said, "If I catch you and my son together again in a public restaurant I will thrash you." I said, "I do not know what Queensberry rules are, but the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot at sight." I then told Lord Queensberry to leave my house. He said he would not do so. I told him that I would have him put out by the police. He said, "It is a disgusting scandal." I said, "If it be so you are the author of that scandal, and no one else." I then went into the hall and pointed him out to my servant. I said, "This is the Marquis of Queensberry, the most infamous brute in London; you are never to allow him to enter my house again." It is not true that I was expelled from the Savoy Hotel at the time. I was at the theatre on the opening night of the play "The Importance of Being Earnest," and was called before the curtain. The play was successful. Lord Queensberry did not obtain admission to the theatre. I was acquainted with the fact that he had brought a bunch of vegetables. I went to the Albemarle Club on the 28th of February, and received from the porter the card which has been produced. I had seen communications from Lord Queensberry, not to his sons, but to a third party. A warrant was issued on the 2nd of March.

It is suggested that you are responsible for the publication of the magazine Chameleon, on the front page of which some aphorisms of yours appear. Beyond sending that contribution had you anything to do with the preparation or the publication of that magazine?—No; nothing whatever.

Did you approve of the story of the "Priest and the Acolyte?"—I think it bad and indecent, and I strongly disapproved of it.

Was that disapproval expressed to the editor?—Yes. The other question relates to the book "Dorian Grey." Was that first published in magazines?—lt was first published in Lippincott's, and afterwards in book form with three additional chapters. It was much reviewed, and is still in circulation.

Your attention has been called to the plea and to the names of persons with whom your conduct is impugned. Is there any truth in these allegations?—There is no truth whatever in any one of them.

Cross-examined by Mr. Carson—You stated that your age was 39. I think you are over 40. You were born on October 16, 1854?—I had no wish to pose as being young.

That makes you more than 40?—Ah!

In reply to further questions, the prosecutor said:—Lord Alfred Douglas is about 24, and was between 20 and 21 years of age when I first knew him. Down to the interview in Tite-street Lord Queensberry had been friendly. I did not receive a letter on April 3 in which Lord Queensberry desired that my acquaintance with his son should cease. After the interview I had no doubt that such was Lord Queensberry's desire. Notwithstanding Lord Queensberry's protest my intimacy with Lord A. Douglas continues to the present moment. I have stayed with him at Oxford, Brighton, Worthing, Cromer, and Torquay, and at hotels in Albemarle-street and Dover-street; also at the Savoy. I never took rooms for him. I had rooms in St. Jaines's-place from October, 1893, to the end of March, 1894, and Lord Alfred has stayed in those rooms. I have been abroad with him several times; even lately to Monte Carlo. There were contributions by Lord Alfred Douglas in the Chameleon, and I thought that they were exceedingly beautiful poems. I saw no improper suggestion in them.

You have read "The Priest and the Acolyte?"—Yes.

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 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 Priest and the Acolyte " was not immoral?—lt was worse, it was badly written. (Laughter.)

In further cross-examination, the witness at first said that he did not think the story blasphemous, but on being reminded that when the priest administered poison to the boy he used the words of the Sacrament, he said he thought it was horrible—blasphemous was not the word. He strongly objected to the whole story, but 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 an Oxford undergraduate's productions. He did not believe that any book or work of art ever had any effect on morality. He had no "pose" in the matter. In writing a play or a book he was concerned entirely with literature—that was with Art. He did not aim at doing good or evil but at trying to make a thing that would have some quality of beauty.

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 thought in whatever age.

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

"Pleasure is the only thing one should live for."—I think that the realisation of oneself is the prime aim of life, and to realise oneself 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; something 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 profession."—I should think that the young have enough sense of humour.

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

What would anybody say would be the effect of "Phrases and Philosophies" taken in connection with such an article as "The Priest and the Acolyte?"—Undoubtedly it was the idea that might be formed that made me object so strongly to the story. I saw at once that maxims that were perfectly nonsensical, paradoxical, or anything you like, might be read in conjunction with it.

After the criticisms that were passed on "Dorian Grey" was it mollified a good deal? —No. Additions were made. In one case it was pointed out to me—not in a newspaper or anything of that sort, but by the only critic of the century whose opinion I set high, Mr. Walter Pater—that a certain passage was liable to misconstruction, and I made one addition.

This is your introduction to " Dorian Grey ":—"There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written."—That expresses my view on art.

I take it that, no matter how immoral a book may be, if it is well written it is, in your opinion, a good book?—If it were well written, so as to produce a sense of beauty, which is the highest sense of which a human being can be capable. If it was badly written it would produce a sense of disgust.

Then a well-written book putting forward certain views may be a good book?—No work of art ever puts forward views. Views belong to people who are not artists. Con- tinuing, witness said that the views of illiterates on art were unaccountable. He was only concerned with his view of art, and did not care twopence what other people thought of it. He was afraid that the majority of people were not cultivated enough to live up to the position he was giving—not cultivated enough to draw a distinction between a good and a bad book. The extract read by counsel from "Dorian Grey" he considered to be the most perfect description possible of what an artist would feel on meeting a beautiful personality which was in some way necessary to his art and life. With regard to another extract, he thought it described the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality. He had never allowed any personality to dominate his heart.

Then you have never known the feeling you described?—No, it is a work of fiction.

So far as you are concerned, you have no experience as to its being a natural feeling?—I think it is perfectly natural for any artist to intensely admire and love a young man. It is an incident in the life of almost every artist.

But let us go over it phrase by phrase. "I quite admit that I adored you madly." Have you ever adored a young man madly?—No, not madly. I prefer a love that is higher.

Never mind about that. Let us keep down to the level we are at now.—I have never given adoration to anybody except myself.(Laughter.)

I am sure you think that a very smart thing?—Not at all. Then you have never had that feeling?—No, it was borrowed from Shakespeare, I regret to say; yes, from Shakespeare's sonnets.

"I have adored you extravagantly." Do you mean financially?—Oh, yes, financially.

Do you think we are talking about finance?—I don't know what you are talking about.

Don't you. Well, I hope I shall make myself very plain before I have done. "I was jealous of everyone to whom you spoke." Have you ever been jealous?—Never in my life.

"I want you all to myself." Did you ever have that feeling?—I should consider it an intense nuisance—an intense bore.

"I grew afraid that the world would know of my idolatry." Why should he grow afraid that the world should know of it?—Because there are people in the world who cannot understand the intense devotion, affection, and admiration that an artist can feel for a wonderful and beautiful personality. These are the conditions under which we live. I regret them.

These unfortunate people that have not the high understanding that you have might put it down to be something wrong?—Undoubtedly. To any point they choose. I am not concerned with the ignorance of others. In reference to another passage in "Dorian Gray," in which he receives a book, Mr. Wilde declined to be cross-examined upon the work of another artist. It was, he said, an impertinence and a vulgarity. He did not think there was any bad influence in the world, or that one person influenced another.

As to the letter beginning "My own Boy," addressed to Lord Alfred Douglas, the witness said that it was a poem. It was not an ordinary letter. It was a beautiful letter. He had always been fond of the young man, though he could not say that he adored him. A man who was not an artist could not have written that letter. A great deal depended on the way in which the quotations were read. He never wrote to any other young man in the same way.

Here is another letter which I believe you also wrote to Lord Alfred Douglas. Will you read it?—No, I decline; I don't see why I should.

Then I will:—"Savoy Hotel, Thames-embankment, W.O.—Dearest of all boys,— Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. You must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of like. I cannot see you, 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 undecipherable, 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 and genius, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) I have also got a new sitting-room. But why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave; no money, no credit, only a heart of lead.—Ever 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—but it was a beautiful letter.

In further cross-examination the witness said that he met Wood at the end of January, 1893. Lord Alfred Douglas asked him to do what he could for Wood, who was seeking a post as clerk. He knew also a man named Taylor, and had been to tea parties at his house. He had given Wood supper because he was asked to be kind to him, but had never taken him to his house. He thought that Wood came to levy blackmail when he brought the letters to him, and he gave him £20 to go to America because of his pitiful tale. Wood used to call him "Oscar," and he called Wood "Alfred." Allen, he was told, was also a blackmailer. He gave him 10s. out of contempt. He was acquainted with a young man named Shelley, who was a great admirer of his works. He had given him money and presents to help him, as he was poor. There was a lad named Alphonse Conway whose acquaintance he had also made, and in whom he took some interest when at Worthing. The lad had assisted him with his boat there, and he gave him some presents and took him for a trip to Brighton on one occasion. He was a bright, simple, agreeable lad. He did not remember any other youth whom he took about in the same way.

At this point the further hearing was adjourned to this morning, Lord Queensberry being liberated on the same bail as before.