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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.]

London, April 5.

The criminal proceedings for libel which Mr Oscar Fingall O'Flahertie Wilde has set in motion against John Sholto Douglas, Marquis of Queensberry, commenced on Wednesday at the Old Bailey. Public interest in the case has been enormous. Long before the hour appointed for the opening of the court doors their vicinity was thick with humanity, and five minutes after they had been thrown open the court was crammed to suffocation. So it was on Wednesday and Thursday, and so it will be till twelve good men and true have driven Oscar into the dock or declared the Marquis a foul traducer.

When the court opened on Wednesday the Marquis lost no time in stepping into the dock. The indictment was gabbled over to him, and he pleaded "Not guilty," that the libel was true, and that it was for the public benefit that it was printed. Sir Edward Clarke opened the case for Oscar. He told how the Marquis had left a card with the hall porter of the Albemarle Club, addressed "To Oscar Wilde," whereon were words gross and libellous. The accusation against Wilde was one of the gravest that could be made, but the plea put before the Court raised a much graver issue. There was no accusation in the plea that Wilde had been guilty of a criminal offence, but there were given a number of names of persons whom he was accused of inciting to commit such offences, and with whom he was charged with improper conduct. Having said so much, Sir Edward sketched Oscar's career for the benefit of those who knew not Oscar prior to the æsthetic craze period. And then he came to speak of the circumstances under which the various parties in the present action became acquainted, and dwelt upon transactions connected with certain letters and other incidents about which Wilde spoke freely in his examination later on. One of these letters, addressed by Oscar to young Lord Douglas, was read out by Sir Edward. It ran thus:—

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 loved by Apollo was 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 grey 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.

A review of the meetings between the Marquis and Oscar concluded a very long and able opening, and after the Albemarle porter had proved the Marquis's call, etc., came the real beginning of the case. Oscar, cool as a cucumber and fatter than ever, glided gracefully into the box. Sir Edward Clarke having examined him as to his relations with the Douglas family and as to the attempts of Woods and others to blackmail him on the strength of certain letters found in the pockets of Lord Alfred Douglas's cast-off clothing, and having obtained his denial to the insinuation of the Marquis that he had ever been kicked out of the Savoy Hotel, he gave the prophet of æstheticism over to the tender mercies of Mr Carson, Q.C. Counsel commenced to cross-examine Oscar somewhat minutely as to his literary output, but more especially in regard to certain poetic contributions of his to a fin de siecle magazine called 'The Chameleon.' Mr Carson suggested that these contributions were improper ones, but Oscar gave an emphatic denial to the suggestion. He considered them exceedingly beautiful poems. He also denied that he was the author of a story entitled 'The Priest and the Acolyte,' saying that, though it was badly written, he would not call it either immoral or blasphemous. Then 'Dorian Grey' was introduced, and Oscar remarked that the book could only be called vicious when misinterpreted by the vulgar and the illiterate. Oscar added that he did not write for the ordinary individual, which brought from Mr Carson the remark that the novelist did not mind the ordinary individual who bought his books. "I have never discouraged him," replied Oscar loftily. Asked if he had ever experienced the sentiments of the painter Basil, and whether he thought them unnatural, Oscar answered: "I should think it perfectly natural to intensely love and adore a younger man; it is an incident in the life of almost every artist." Mr Carson then wanted to know if Oscar had himself "adored madly" a man twenty years his junior? He replied that he had loved one—not madly—but loved just one. "Adoration" was a quality he reserved for himself. He had, however, never been jealous. "Jealousy is an intense nuisance," said he. Then Mr Carson came to the novelist's letter to young Lord Douglas. The one quoted, Mr Carson suggested, was an improper letter to write to any young man, but Oscar could not see eye to eye with his tormentor. The letter was a "prose poem," "beautiful," "unique," but not as the Q.C. read it. "You read it very badly, Mr Carson," said Oscar blandly; "you are not an artist." "I do not profess to be an artist, Mr Wilde; and sometimes when I hear your evidence I am glad I am not one," responded the Q.C. gravely. He then read another of Oscar's "prose poems," which ran thus:—

Dearest of Old Boys,—Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Poesy, you must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I can see you, so Greek and great, contorted by passion. I cannot see your rosy lips and listen to you; you break my heart. I must see you. You are the divine thing I want—the thing of grace and genius—but I do not know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill is £45 for the week. I have a sitting room over the Fens. But you, where are you, my heart, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear almost to live—no money, no credit, and a heart of lead.—Ever your own Oscar.

"An extraordinary letter," commenced Oscar, softly. "Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary." Mr Carson next read a number of letters from persons whose names were mentioned, Wood and Taylor being among them, but Oscar said that they were in the main attempts to levy blackmail, though he had admitted having given Wood various sums, amounting to over £30, "out of pure kindness." He also admitted that, though believing Wood to have been levying blackmail, he privileged him to use his (Wilde's) Christian name. "But you see, everybody calls me Oscar." Sir Edward, in re-examining Oscar, read several letters from the Marquis to his son, and their tenor was that His Lordship deemed is son's close acquaintance with Wilde such a terrible thing that it must be broken, no matter what it cost. The re-examination proper enabled Oscar to deny the Marquis's statement that Mrs Wilde was seeking a divorce.

Here are some of the passages at arms between Wilde and his "tormentor":—

You are of opinion that there is no such thing as an immoral book?—Yes.

Am I right in saying 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?—It is? 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 thing 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.

It is 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 ore 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 humor.

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

Do you call 'Dorian Gray' and objectionable book?—Only to brutes and the illiterates. To Philistines it might seem immoral; to the incalculably stupid it might appear to be anything. The view of the Philistine troubles me not. The ordinary individual does not appeal to me; I have no knowledge of him. What appeals to me is my work, my art.

You do not think the majority of people live up to the views you are giving us, Mr Wilde?—I am afraid they are not cultivated enough.—(Laughter.)

The jury having asked a few questions relative to the publication of the 'Chameleon,' the case for the prosecution was closed.

Mr Carson then addressed the jury on the more serious side of the justification of the libel, and a scathing address it was. So far as Lord Queensberry was concerned, of any act he had done he withdrew nothing. He acted with premeditation, determined at all risks and hazards to save his son.

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

As you returned 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's Rooms, the Café Royal, etc., 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 shall 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.

THE VERDICT.

This (Friday) morning the case came to an abrupt, but perhaps not unexpected, ending. Mr Carson was continuing his vigorous denunciation of Wilde and his works (Oscar was not in court) when Sir Edward Clarke touched his arm and whispered in his ear. Mr Carson sat down, and Sir Edward, rising, said he was prepared to accept a verdict of "not guilty" on behalf of his client. The judge put two things to the jury—viz, that the justification set up by the Marquis of Queensberry was true in substance and in fact, and that the Marquis's statement was published in such a manner as to be for the public benefit. Amid loud applause the jury intimated that they considered both these things to be fact, and a few minutes later the court was empty.

So ended the great case of Wilde v. Queensberry, which must have unpleasant consequences for the former, since the Marquis has placed the whole of his evidence in the hands of the Public Prosecutor.