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The suit of Oscar Wilde and the Marquess of Queensberry was down in to-day's list for trial at the Central Criminal Court, London, before Mr. Justice Collins and a common jury. The words of the indictment charge John Sholto Douglas with maliciously publishng a defamatory libel of and concerning Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wilde. The general public and the members of the Junior Bar were very early in attendance, and not only was all sitting room taken up but the passages of the court were so blocked by the crush that ingress and egress was a matter of great difficulty.

Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., Mr. Mathewe, and Mr. Travers Humphreys had been retained for the prosecution. Mr. Carson, Mr. C. F. Gill, and Mr. A. Gill were counsel for the defence; a watching brief for Lord Alfred Douglas (son of the defendant) being held by Mr. Besley, Q.C., and Mr. Monckton.

Plaintiff arrived at half-past ten, accompanied by his solicitor, and took a seat in the well of the court immediately in front of Sir Edward Clarke. Immediately afterwards the jury answered to their names, but it was not until twenty minutes to eleven that silence was called for the entrance of the learned judge.

Lord Queensberry at once surrended to his bail, and was conducted to the dock. His lordship seated himself, but obediently to the attendant's request advanced to the front and stood with his arms resting upon the ledger.

The Clerk of the Court having read the indictment charging the defendant with having published a defamatory libel of the plaintiff upon a card addressed to him, Lord Queensberry replied, "Not guilty," and added the further plea. "The libel is true and was published for the public benefit.'

For the prosecution Sir Edward Clarke then opened. The libel, he said, was upon a visiting card containing the name of Lord Queensberry, and it was a matter of very serious moment; because it imputed to Mr. Oscar Wilde the gravest offence with which a man could be charged; but a far graver issue was raised by the plea that the libel was justified, and that Mr. Oscar Wilde had for a considerable period solicited certain persons (whose names were mentioned in the pleadings) to commit certain practices. The learned counsel traced the plaintiff's career at Trinity College, Dublin, and subsequently at Magdalen College, Oxford, his marriage with a daughter of the late Mr. Lloyd, Q.C., and his later literary and artistic career. He detailed plaintiff's social connection with the sons of the defendant and with Lady Queensberry, who some years ago obtained relief from her marriage owing to misconduct on the part of the Marquess. Touching next on the introduction of Mr. Wilde to Lord Queensberry by Lord Alfred Douglas at the Café Royal, Sir Edward called the attention of the jury to a personage not hitherto mentioned. This was a man who had been given the same clothes worn by Lord Alfred Douglas, and who alleged that in the pockets he discovered four letters addressed to Lord Alfred by Mr. Oscar Wilde. Whether the man had found or stolen them was a matter of speculation. This person came to Mr. Oscar Wilde, represented himself as in distress and as wanting to go to America, and plaintiff gave him £15 or £20 in order to pay his passage. He then handed to plaintiff the letters. To those letters he (Sir E. Clarke) did not attach the slightest importance. As was generally the case the important letter was retained. While Mr. Oscar Wilde's play A Woman of No Importance was in preparation what appeared to be to some extent the copy of a letter was handed to Mr. Tree, the actor, with a request to give it to Mr. Wilde. After this another individual called on the plaintiff and offered him the original, but he said, "No." He had a copy which he looked upon as a work of art, and did not want the original. Plaintiff looked upon the letter as a sort of "prose sonnet," and told the man that it would probably appear as a "sonnet poem." It did so appear in a critical magazine edited by Lord A. Douglas, and called The Spirit Lamp. The learned counsel read the letter.

The following is a copy of the letter which was published in sonnet form in the Spirit Lamp—an aesthetical and satirical magazine edited by Lord Alfred Douglas:—

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-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 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.

Continuing the learned counsel said the words of the the letter did appear extraordinary to those in the habit of reading commercial correspondence—(laughter)—but it was merely an expression of poetic feeling, and had no relation whatever to the suggestion now made. On the production of the plaintiff's play, The Importance of Being Earnest, Lord Queensberry was refused admission and his money returned because he brought to the theatre a bouquet of vegetables—(laughter)—and the jury might have their doubts whether his lordship was responsible for his actions. The learned advocate dealt at some length with the suggestion made against the plaintiff because of his connection with certain literary productions, and as showing his real feeling as to improper publications he instanced the fact that plaintiff the instant he saw a production called The Priest and the Acolyte, wrote to the editor of the magazine protesting against its continued appearance. As to Mr. Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray, it was simply idealising reality in the sense of harmony and beauty.

Sydney Wright, the porter of the Albemarle, having deposed to handing Lord Queensberry's card to Mr. Oscar Wilde,

The Plaintiff himself entered the witness-box, and assuming an easy pose with his arms resting on the rail, he answered the questions of his leader in a firm, deliberate voice. He met the man Wood, who had the letters referred to at the rooms of a tailor, and Wood said a man named Allen had stolen the letters from him, but they had been recovered by a detective. Plaintiff told him he did not consider the letters of any importance. Wood said he had been offered £60 for what witness described as "his beautiful letter to Lord Alfred Douglas." His reply was "I never received so large a sum for a prose work so short in length." That letter formed the basis of a French poem afterwards published and signed by a young French poet, a friend of his own. Passing from various interviews with Wood and another person named Tyler, plaintiff described a scene with Lord Queensberry in his library. He told defendant he supposed he had come there to apologise for the letter he had written about plaintiff and his son. Defendant replied that the letter was privileged, adding that plaintiff and Lord Alfred had been kicked out of the Savoy Hotel at a moment's notice, and that they had been blackmailed, and that plaintiff had taken rooms for defendant's son in Piccadilly. These statements were perfectly untrue. He asked defendant, "Do you seriously accuse your son and me?" Lord Queensberry answered, "I do not say that you are it, but you look it." (Slight applause in court.)

The Learned Judge: I will have the court cleared if there is the smallest repetition of disturbance.

Witness completed Lord Queensberry's answer, "I do not say that your are it, but you look it and you pose at it, which is just as bad. If I catch you in a public cafe again with my son I will thrash you." Plaintiff replied, "I don't know what the Queensberry Rules are, but the Oscar Wilde's rule is to shoot at sight." He then ordered defendant out of his house, saying to the servant, "This is the Marquess of Queensberry, the most infamous brute in London. Never allow him to enter my house again. If he attempts it send for the police." He was not responsible for the publication of "The Priest and the Acolyte" in the Cameleon magazine. He disapproved of it, and expressed his disapproval to the editor. There was no truth in the statements of defendant contained in the pleadings.

(Continued on Page 4.)

Mr. Carson began his cross-examination by asking plaintiff whether he was not something over 39, the age which he had given in his examination in chief. He now said he was born on the 16th October, 1854. In addition to his house in Chelsea he had rooms in St. James's Place, and Lord A. Douglas had visited them. He regarded the "Priest and the Acolyte" as violating all the artistic canons, and as being disgusting twaddle; but he had never publicly dissociated himself from the Chameleon, in which it appeared.

Was the "Priest and the Acolyte" immoral?—lt was worse—it was badly written. (Laughter.)

The learned counsel took plaintiff through a series of questions on his "Phrases and Philosophies," contributed to the Chameleon.

"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the attractiveness of others." Do you hold that to be a safe axiom?—Witness: Most stimulating. (Laughter.)

You think anything that stimulates thought is good whether moral or immoral?—Thought is neither one nor the other, thought is intellectual.

Counsel called attention to a criticism of "Dorian Gray" in the Scots Observer, in which it was described as set in "an atmosphere of moral corruption," and asked plaintiff whether he regarded that as a suggestion that his work pointed to a certain grave offence?—Witness: Some might think so, whether reasonably or not.

Mr. Carson: Have you ever felt the feeling of "adoring madly" a man some years younger than yourself?

Plaintiff: I never gave adoration to anybody except myself. (Laughter.)

Mr. Carson: In your introduction to "Dorian Gray" you say there is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are either well or badly written?

Plaintiff: That expresses my view.

Has "Dorian Gray" a certain tendency?—Only to brutes, and only illiterates would so regard it.

Do the majority of people take up the "pose" you are giving us ?—I am afraid not. I am afraid they are not cultivated enough.

Mr. Carson: Not cultivated enough to draw a distinction between a good book and a bad book?

Witness (loftily): Oh. certainly not. (Laughter.)

Mr. Carson, quoting from a copy of "Lippincot" (a second copy having been handed to the learned judges), read the author's description of his first meeting with Dorian Gray, and asked, "Do you consider that description of the feelings of a man towards a youth just growing up as proper or improper?"

Plaintiff: I think it is the most proper description possible of what an artist would feel on meeting a beautiful personality.

May I take it that you have never felt the sensations which you there describe?—No; I borrowed from Shakespeare's Sonnets.

Mr. Carson: You have written an article pointing out that Shakespeare's Sonnets have a certain tendency?

Plaintiff: On the contrary, I wrote objecting to the shameful perversion by Hallam, the historian, aud a great many French critics.

Certain questions as to a French novel referred to in plaintiff's "Dorian Gray," were ruled out as irrelevant.

Mr. Carson returned to "Dorian Gray," and in a long passage hit upon the phrase, "Why is your friendship so fatal to young men ?"

Plaintiff: I do not think any grown person influences another grown person.

Further questioned, he said his letter to Lord A. Douglas was written from Torquay, where he was staying, and Lord Alfred was at the Savoy.

Mr. Carson: You say "your slim built soul walks between passion and poetry."

Plaintiff: It is a beautiful phrase. (Laughter.) The letter is unique. (Renewed laughter.)

Mr. Carson: Listen to this second letter of your own to Lord A. Douglas:—

"Dearest of all boys,—Your letter was delightful, and it was red and yellow wine to me, for I am sadly out of sorts. You must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see you, so Greek and gracious. Distorted by passion, I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. Don't do it. You break my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, a 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 here is £49 for the week. I have also a new sitting-room over the Thames for you. Why are you not here my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit, aud a heart of lead.—Ever your own, Oscar.

Is not that an extraordinary letter?—Everything I write is extraordinary. (Laughter).

Mr. Carson: You do not pose as being ordinary?

Plaintiff (with a gesture of contempt): No.

Is that a love letter?—lt is a letter expressive of love.

Cross-examined: Wood was a young man who had held a clerkship and was in a different social position. He had been asked by Lord A. Douglas to help Wood, and supped with Wood at the Café on the night of his introduction. On one occasion he gave Wood £2, but not for an object suggested by the learned counsel. He never misconducted himself with Wood at his house in Chelsea while his (the plaintiff's) wife and children were away. When Wood brought those letters to him he thought he came to levy blackmail.

My suggestion to you is that instead of giving him £16 you gave him £30. Did you not give him £5 the following day?—Yes. (Sensation.)

Did you have a champagne farewell lunch with the man who levied blackmail?—Yes. He convinced me he had no intention, and that the letters had been stolen by other persons.

Was it then you gave him the £5?—Yes.

Why?—Because he said £15 would land him penniless at New York.

Did you not think it strange that a man with whom you had lunched in a private room should seek to levy blackmail?—Perfectly infamous.

Cross-examination resumed: He knew Wood as "Alfred," and two other men named Allen and Taylor were also known to him. Allen was known to him by reputation as a blackmailer and nothing else. He gave Allen 10s. "to show his contempt." (Laughter). After Allen came Clyburne, who also consulted him about the letters. He was also kind to Clyburne, and gave him 10s. (Laughter.) He told Clyburne he was afraid he was leading a dreadfully wicked life. Clyburne said, "There was good and bad in all of us," to which he replied, "You are a philosopher." (Laughter.)

Is the discovered letter the only one that a sonnet was written about?-I should have to go through a great deal of modern poetry before I could answer that? (Laughter.)

The case was adjourned till to-morrow.

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.