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Lord Queensberry may not have acted with perfect judgment in the recent proceedings with which his name has been mixed up, but his position was a most difficult one. He brought matters to a head by leaving a card at Oscar Wilde’s club with a strong expression of his opinion of him written on it. Obviously, Wilde had to take action, or he would have been called upon to leave the club. It would, however, have been better had Lord Queensberry sent the card to the committee of the club instead of handing it to a porter. Any father, knowing, in regard to the relationship of a man with his son, what was subsequently proved to be the fact in open court, and finding that the man still insisted upon associating with him, was bound to adopt the strongest measures.

I had a slight acquaintanceship with Lord Queensberry years ago, and he called upon me to ask my advice as to what he ought to do, when Wilde was going to admitted to bail, in the event of the pair coming together. He had, he said, publicly stated that he would shoot Wilde. I strongly urged him to do nothing of the kind, but I said that, if he met them together, I thought there would be no great harm in his giving Wilde a sound horsewhipping, for public opinion would be with him. If Wilde were acquitted, and the pair went abroad together, I advised him to wash his hands of his son, having already done all that was possible to reclaim him.

This Lord Alfred Douglas seems to me to be an exceptional young scoundrel. His letter in which he expresses his regret that he was not privileged, instead of his elder brother, to assault his father, apart from anything else, puts this youth of "slim gilt soul" and "rose-leaf lips," outside the pale of all decent human beings. It would seem that he might have given evidence which, if believed, would have told in regard to one of the indictments for Wilde, but he preferred to put the Channel between himself and British jurisdiction, leaving his associate in the lurch.

The verdict of the jury was amply justified by the evidence set before it. On the first jury there were, I understand, ten for a verdict of guilty and two for an acquittal. One of the two was a gentleman who, having returned a verdict on a court-martial which he subsequently thought wrong, declared that he never would incur this risk again, and he was consequently impervious to all argument. Wilde and Taylor were tried on a clause in the Criminal Law Amendment Act which I had inserted, in order to render it possible for the law to take cognisance of proceedings like theirs. I took the clause mutatis mutandis from the French code. As I had drafted it, the maximum sentence was seven years. The then Home Secretary and Attorney-General, both most experienced men, however, suggested to me that, in such cases, convictions are always difficult, and that it would be better were the maximum to be two years. Hence the insufficiency of the severest sentence that the law allows, which, as Mr. Justice Wills observed, is totally inadequate to the offence.

There is no question that matters had reached a pass in London which rendered it necessary for the law to be put in operation, unless it was to be treated as a dead letter. I hear this name and that name bandied about, as those of persons who were mixed up in these iniquities. Against all this I protest. In such matters no one ought to be defamed by gossip unsupported by any proof. Where there is evidence the law should act, however distasteful the parading of such cases in public may be; but, without the clearest and most convincing evidence, no one should even be suspected. When Lord Arthur Somerset managed to get out of the country before a warrant could be served on him, I protested in Parliament, because it was evident that his escape was due to connivance. Then various names were whispered about. I saw the entire evidence, and there was not one single person against whom there was the slightest evidence of having visited the house in Cleveland-street. That names were hinted at was due to the action of Lord Arthur Somerset himself, who, having fled the country, was mean enough to write home to his friends that he was a mere scapegoat, and that he had been urged to leave the country in order to save others from exposure. There was a shred of evidence to support these statements, and I believe that they were absolutely untrue. It is always difficult to prove a negative, but in regard to one particular name suggested in these letters, the negative could have been proved up to the hilt.

As for Oscar Wilde, the curious thing in the man is that he seems to have been proud of the avowal of doctrines which the most abandoned would, even if they held to them, carefully conceal. In many instances, which of course did not come out at his trial, relatives and men of the world had interfered to prevent youths with whom he was thrown having anything to do with him, and his doings were an open secret. Clever he undoubtedly is, but the basis of all his cleverness is paradox. By some strange perversion of intellect, he seems to consider that whatever may be the received view in regard to art, morals, habits, dress, or anything else, it must be wrong because it is the received view. Whether he really believes this, or whether he professed it in order to attract attention by differentiating himself from others, who can tell? Probably at first it was merely put on for effect, and little by little habit became a second nature. Of this, however, there can be no doubt, that he has not only been gross offender himself, but has exercised a corrupting influence the extent of which can hardly be measured. In view of the mischief that such a man does, the sentence he has received compares but lightly with those almost every day awarded for infinitely less pernicious crimes. The spectacle, however, of his shame and degradation, and of the utter ruin that has overtaken him when at the zenith of his fame and popularity, should at least serve as a wholesome warning to others of the same class who still remain at large. There are those who think that a case like this does more harm than good. That is not my view. I regard it rather as a storm that will clear the moral atmosphere. It should teach a lesson that is badly needed, and, if it does not, another lesson must be administered.

The scene which closed the trial of Oscar Wilde was remarkable enough to become historic in criminal trials. To each of the six counts in the indictment the foreman of the jury said "Guilty."

The foreman was visibly affected, and as he jerked out with difficulty that one word "guilty" six times over, the effect was intensely dramatic and moving.

Sir Edward Clarke applied for a postponement of the sentence on the ground that a demurrer was to be argued.

Mr Grain, for Taylor, made a similar application; but Sir Frank Lockwood would not consent.

The judge passed sentence. He agreed thoroughly with the verdict of the jury. It was no use for him to address the prisoners, as they must be dead to all sense of shame.

It was the worst case he had ever tried. He should pass the severest sentence the law allowed--a totally inadequate one--two years’ imprisonment with hard labour for each.

As the judge concluded, Wilde clutching the front of the dock, and holding himself back at arms’ length, said pathetically, "May I say nothing, my lord?"

The judge looked at him, but did not speak. For a moment the silence in court was painful, and then there burst forth loud hisses, and

CRIES OF "SHAME!"

The prisoners were at once removed, and the court was cleared. A large crowd had gathered in the neighbourhood, and one of the most singular features of the scene was that a number of flashily-dressed women shouted and danced on the pavement outside the court.

Wilde, who seemed dazed, was conveyed in a depressed and nervous condition to the cell at Newgate, and immediately after, when the warrants authorising his detention for two years had been prepared, was taken in the prison van to Holloway. Here he found the reception warder waiting for him to deprive him of all loose cash and valuables; he was stripped to his shirt and placed before an officer, who proceeded to "take his description"; to write down in the prisoner ledgers a minute account of his appearance, his distinctive marks, the colour of his eyes, hair, complexion, any peculiarities, a broken finger, tattoo marks, moles and soforth. Not being an old hand, having no previous convictions against him, he was not measured under the Bertillon system.

After the "description" was recorded, a matter of 10 or 15 minutes, he passed into the bathroom, where a hot bath awaited him, and the barber to shear off his hair, and while he was refreshing himself his shirt, the last vestige of his days of freedom, was removed. Emerging from the water, he found a full suit of prison clothes ready for him, from the under linen to the loose shoes and hideous Scottish cap. The clothes are of the well-known dirty drab colour, plentifully adorned with broad arrows.

Being a large-framed man and of superior station, these clothes were perfectly new. Then the rules were read to him, and he was marched to a cell in the body of the prison, and shortly afterwards ate his first real prison meal--an allowance of thin porridge, the true skilly, and a small brown loaf.

SIX HOURS DAILY ON THE TREADMILL.

From Holloway he passed on Monday to Pentonville,, close by,, the prison for convicted prisoners, as Holloway takes only those awaiting their trial. The process of reception was repeated, one part of it being very minute and particular--that of the medical officer’s investigation. The exact state of his health will have an important bearing upon his prison life.

If he is passed sound and fit for first-class hard labour, he will be compelled to take his first month’s exercise on the treadmill; six hours daily making an ascent of 6,000ft, 20 minutes on continuously, and then five minutes’ rest. The necessity for close medical examination is obvious before a man is subjected to this labour, and Wilde will be ausculted and tapped and thoroughly overhauled before the decision is made.

THE PLANK BED AND FOOD.

During the first month, while on the wheel, Wilde will sleep on the plank bed, a bare board raised a few inches above the floor and supplied with sheets--clean sheets are given to each prisoner--two rugs, and a coverlet, but no mattress. His diet will be--

Cocoa and bread for breakfast at 7 30.

Dinner at noon, one day bacon and beans, another soup, another cold Australian meat, and another brown flour suet puddings, with the last three repeated twice a week, potatoes with every dinner. And

Tea at 5 30, as already stated.

After he has finished his spell on the wheel he will be put to some industrial employment, probably post bag-making, tailoring, or merely picking of oakum. He will exercise in the opening air daily for an hour, walking with the rest of his ward in Indian file, no talking allowed.

He will be allowed no communication with outside, except by special permission, until he has completed three months of his sentence, and then he may write and receive one letter, and be visited for twenty minutes by three friends, but in the visiting cell, and separated from them by wire blinds and in the presence of a warder. After the first letter and visit the same may be repeated at intervals of three months. But all these concessions are dependent first upon industry and next upon conduct. The plank bed cannot be escaped from until a certain number of marks, awarded only for work done, and in the same way letters and visits are accorded. Wilde will attend chapel every morning at 9 a m and twice on Sundays. He will be visited, if he wishes it, by the chaplain, and as often as he likes, also daily by the Governor or Deputy Governor.

HE MAY EARN 10s.

A Government Inspector will visit him once a month and hear any representations or complaints, and the Visiting Committee of London Magistrates call frequently at the prison for the same laudable purpose. On release, Wilde, if he has worked well and behaved well, will have earned the magnificent sum of 10s, which he can have all at once, or it will be doled out to him by the agent of the Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society, if he (Wilde) has elected to apply to that institution to assist him in obtaining employment when once more free.

A REMINISCENCE.

Writing in the "Nineteenth century," Oscar Wilde said: "The things people say of a man do not alter a man. He is what he is. Public opinion is of no value whatever. After all, even in prison a man can be quite free. His soul can be free. His personality can be untroubled. He can be at peace."

MR. LABOUCHERE ON THE WILDE CASE.

Wilde and Taylor were, it will be remembered, prosecuted and convicted under "Labouchere’s Clause" in "Stead’s Act." Mr Justice Wills deplored the comparative smallness of the maximum punishment under that clause. Mr Labouchere, writing on the case in this week’s "Truth," says:--

"The verdict of the jury was amply justified by the evidence set before it. On the first jury there were, I understand, ten for a verdict of guilty and two for an acquittal. One of the two was a gentleman who, having returned a verdict on a court martial which he subsequently thought wrong, declared that he never would incur this risk again, and he was consequently impervious to all argument. Wilde and Taylor were tried on a clause in the Criminal Law Amendment Act which I had inserted in order to render it possible for the law to take cognisance of proceedings like theirs. I took the clause ‘mutatis mutandis’ from the French Code. As I had crafted it the maximum sentence was seven years. The then Home Secretary and Attorney-General, both most experienced men, however, suggested to me that in such cases convictions are always difficult, and that it would be better were the maximum to be two years. Hence the insufficiency of the severest sentence that the law allows, which, as Mr Justice Wills observed, is totally inadequate to the offence."

With reference more particularly to Oscar Wilde, Mr Labouchere says:--

"There is no question that matters had reached a pass in London which rendered it necessary for the law to be put into operation, unless it was to be treated as a dead letter. . . . As for Oscar Wilde, the curious thing in the man is that he seems to have been proud of the avowal of doctrines which the most abandoned would, even if they held to them, carefully conceal. In many instances, which, of course, did not come out at this trial, relatives and men of the world had interfered to prevent youths, with whom he was thrown, having anything to do with him and his doings, were an open secret. . . . . Of this there can be no doubt, that he has not only been a gross offender himself, but has exercised a corrupting influence, the extent of which can hardly be measured. In view of the mischief that such a man does, the sentence he has received compares but lightly with those almost every day awarded for infinitely less pernicious crimes. The spectacle, however, of his shame and degradation, and of the utter ruin which has overtaken him when at the zenith of his fame and popularity, should at least serve as a wholesome warning to others of the same class who still remain at large. There are those who think that a case like this does more harm than good. That is not my view. I regard it rather as a storm that will clear the moral atmosphere. It should teach a lesson that is badly needed, and if it does not, another lesson must be administered."