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PLAINTIFF AND DEFENDANT.

Mr. Oscar Wilde yesterday wore a tight-fitting [...] coat, of a dark material, a collar with wide points and black cravat. His hair was banked on the top of his head, and carefully parted down the centre. His manner was confident, and he leaned over the narrow rail which shuts in the witness, toying with a pair of gloves, and in readiness to reply to the leading questions of his counsel. The Marquess, turning slightly round in the dock, faced him with an expression of supreme contempt, supplemented occasionally, as the evidence proceeded, by subdued and angry mutterings.

OSCAR'S "PHILOSOPHY."

Theatre-goers are familiar with those daring and absurd epigrams and paradoxes which abound in Mr. Oscar Wilde's plays. In his evidence yesterday he [...] one of his own characters-somewhat to the astonishment at times of the learned counsel. This is one [...]

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

Did you say rarely?—I said rarely. I [...] never; not true in the sense of corresponding with the actual facts.

"Religions die when they are proved to be true." Is that true?—Yes, I hold that.

Do you trunk that was a safe axiom to put forward for the use of the young?—It was a most stimulating [...] (Laughter.)

"Pleasure is the only thing one should live for. Nothing else ages like happiness"?—I think that the realization of oneself is the prime aim of life, and to realize oneself through pleasure is finer than to do so through pain. I am on that point entirely on the side of the ancients.

"A truth ceases to be true when more than one person believes it"? —Perfectly. That would be my most physical definition of truth; something so [...] the same truth could never be appreciated by [...]

The condition of perfection is idleness."?—[...] Yes, I think so. Half of it is true. The life of contemplation is the highest life, and so recognized by the philosopher.

NOT LIKE OTHER MEN.

In his cross-examination, Mr. Carson asked:

Is that an extraordinary letter?—I think everything I write is extraordinary. I don't pose as being ordinary, great heavens! Ask me any question you like

Is it the kind of letter a man writes to another man?—It is the kind of letter I wrote to Lord Alfred Douglas. What other men write to other men I know nothing about, nor do I care. It is not like the other—a prose poem.

Have you written others of this class of letter?—There is no class in that letter.

Have you written others like this?—I don't repeat myself in style. (Laughter.)

SHOWING HIS CONTEMPT.

Witness's method of treating a blackmailer was brought out in the following passage:—

Did you give this man, whom you knew as a blackmailer, 10s?—Yes.

Why did you give it him?—I gave it him to show my contempt. (Laughter.)

The way you show your contempt is by giving 10s?—Very often. (Laughter.) I did it really to show I didn't care twopence for him. (Laughter.)

BORROWED FROM SHAKESPEARE!

This passage is also from the evidence:—

You have never known the feelings you describe there?—No. I have never allowed any personality to dominate my art.

The passage I am quoting says, "I quite admit that I adored you madly." Have you had that feeling?—I have never given admiration to any person except myself. (Laughter.) The expression, I regret to say, was borrowed from Shakespeare. (Laughter.)

Then we read, "I want to have you all to myself."—I should consider that an intense bore. (Laughter.)

People who have not the views you have might form another opinion of these passages?—Undoubtedly; but don't cross-examine me about the [...] of other people. (Laughter.) I have a great passion to civilize the community.

APHORISMS IN COURT.

Some more extracts from the evidence:—

It is a handsome stick for a boy of that class?—I do not think it is a beautiful stick [...] (Laughter.)

You dressed him up in a blue [...] suit and a strange hat, in order that he might look more like your equal?—Oh no; he never looked that. (Laughter.) He had been to school, where naturally he had not learned much. (Laughter.)

He often dined with you. Was that an intellectual treat?—Yes, for him. (Laughter.)

Mr. Carson: Was his conversation literary?—Witness: On the contrary, it was quite simple and easy to understand. (Laughter.)

"THE ONLY CRITIC OF THE CENTURY."

In his evidence Mr. Wilde stated that Mr. Walter Pater was the only critic of the century whose opinion he sees high.

THE ORDINARY PERSON.

Oscar's contempt for "ordinary people" does not go the length of forbidding them to buy his books—

You don't prevent the ordinary individual from buying your books?—I have never discouraged it. (Laughter.)

At the Central Criminal Court yesterday, before Mr Justice Collins, John Sholto Douglas, Marquis of Queensbury, surrendered his bail and entered the dock to answer an indictment charging him with maliciously publishing a defamatory libel of and concerning Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde in the form of writing on a card. The court was crowded long before the commencement of proceedings. Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., M.P., Mr. Charles Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys appeared for the prosecution; Mr Carson, Q.C., M.P., Mr C.F. Gill and Mr. A. Gill were counsel for the Marquis of Queensberry; and Mr. Besley Q.C., and Mr. Monckton watched the proceedings on behalf of Lord Alfred Douglas.

Sir Edward Clark, in opening the case, said a libel was published in the form of a card which was left by Lord Queensberry at the Albemarle Club, of which Mr. Oscar Wilde was a member. The card was a visiting card, bearing the name of Mr. Oscar Wilde, and containing words suggesting that Mr. Wilde was guilty of an inclination to a grave crime. If they had to deal simply with the question of whether the libel was published, there were many considerations which might be brought to their attention before the case concluded which would not have justified such action, but which would at all events, in regard to a person in the position of the defendant, and with such characteristics as the evidence would show them he, have gone to some extent to extenuate the gravity of the offence. But the matter did not stop with the question of whether the card was delivered or whether the defendant's conduct could be excused by reason of strong feeling. By the plea which the defendant had entered a much more grievous issue was raised, the defendant saying that the statement was true and published for the public benefit, and giving particulars of matters which he alleged showed that the statement was true. He did not intend to read the pleas, but he would state this—there was no allegation in the plea that Mr Wilde had been guilty of this offence, but there was a series of accusations, mentioning the names of many persons.With regard to the allegations dealing with the names and dates, he should not now trouble with them; it was for those who had undertaken the grave responsibility of putting in the plea to satisfy the jury by credible witnesses that the charges were true. Mr Oscar Wilde was 38 years of age, and the son of Sir W. Wilde, a distinguished Irishman. He had won great distinction at Trinity College and Oxford. On quitting college he devoted himself to literature in its artistic side. Many years ago Mr. Oscar Wilde became a very public person, laughed at by some, but appreciated by many. At all events he represented a special and particular aspect of artistic literature which commended itself to most of the cultivated people of our time. In 1884 he married the daughter of the late Mr. Horace Lloyd, Q.C., and had since resided with her and his family at Tite-street, Chelsea. In 1891 Lord Alfred Douglas was introduced to him, and had since been a visitor at his house as well as his brother. The mother of Lord Alfred was also a visitor—a lady who was the wife of the defendant, but who some years ago obtained a release from the marriage in consequence of the defendant’s conduct. Until the early part of 1893 Mr. Wilde did not know the defendant, although he had met him in 1880, but in 1893 Lord Alfred Douglas and Mr. Oscar Wilde were lunching at the Café Royal when Lord Queensberry entered, and Mr. Wilde being aware that owing to unhappy family troubles Lord Alfred Douglas and his father were not on friendly terms, suggested that Lord Alfred should go and speak to his father, and he did so, and Lord Queensberry came and lunched with them. From that time he did not see Lord Queensberry again until the early part of 1894. During that time he became aware that some statements were made affecting his character. They came to him in this way. A man named Wood who had been given some clothes by Lord Alfred Douglas, said that he had found in the pockets four letters written by Mr. Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas, and these letters were being handed about. Early in 1892 Wood came to Mr. Wilde and offered to sell him these letters. He represented that he was in trouble and wanting to go to America, and Mr. Wilde gave him 15l. or 20l. in order to pay his passage to America, and then Wood handed Mr. Wilde three somewhat ordinary letters. No importance was to be attached to these letters, however, because the jury would see, as was generally the case, that the letters which were of any importance were retained. That was the case in this instance, and the jury would find before the case was over that there were other people mixed up in this transaction—men named Alen and Cliburn. In 1893 a play of Mr. Wilde’s, "A Woman of No Importance," was to be produced at the Haymarket, and Mr. Beerbohm Tree at this time handed to Mr. Wilde that which was to some extent, though not exactly, a copy of the letter which had been retained by these persons. It was a curious document and shortly afterwards a man named Allen called on Mr. Wilde and offered to sell the original letter. Mr. Wilde absolutely and peremptorily refused to buy it. He informed the man that he looked upon the letter as a work of art, and, as he had a copy of it, the original was no use to him. He gave the man half a sovereign, and sent him away, but shortly afterwards a man named Cliburn called and gave him the original letter, saying that, as he had been kind to Allen, he had sent it to him. He gave this man a so for hisvereign for his trouble. Mr. Oscar Wilde kept the letter. He told Allen, and he said now, that that letter was a prose sonnet. Sometime afterwards that letter was actually published in the "Spirit Lamp," an aesthetic, literary, and critical magazine, edited by Lord Alfred Douglas, in sonnet form, as from the pen of "a poet of no importance". It was not an exact reproduction, but a paraphrase of the letter. Here was the letter: "My own boy. Your sonnet is quite lovely and it is a marvel that these red rose-leaf lips of yours should have been made no less for music of song than for madness of kisses. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days. Why are you alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do go there to 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 commercial correspondence—(laughter)—but Mr. Oscar Wilde regarded it as a sort of prose sonnet. He produced this letter as one to which he was in no way ashamed, and with regard to the imputations connected with it he was absolutely indifferent. Shortly after 1894 Mr. Oscar Wilde became aware that Lord Queensberry was writing letters affecting his character and containing suggestions injurious to him of having relations of the same sort as that now suggested. They would well understand the reason why Mr. Oscar Wilde would be extremely reluctant, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others, to bring to the public notice these odious and frightful suggestions. In the middle of 1894 there was an interview between Mr. Wilde and Lord Queensberry, at which Mr. Wilde repudiated the suggestions made by Lord Queensberry and ordered him to leave his house. In 1895 another play of Mr. Wilde’s, entitled "The Importance of Being Earnest," was to be produced at St. James’s Theatre, and information was given to the management of certain intentions on the part of Lord Queensberry. He had booked a seat, but his money was returned, and precautions were taken to prevent his getting in. On the night of the production of the play, the Marquis of Queensberry came to the box office, carrying a huge bouquet of vegetables. (Laughter.) What it was his intention to do with the vegetables if he got in he did not know, because he was refused admission. This, however, was not unimportant when they came to consider the way in which Lord Queensberry acted. Whether he was at all times responsible for his actions was a matter upon which the jury might possibly have their doubts before the case ended. Sometime after this Mr. Oscar Wilde found the libel in question left at the Albemarle Club. He had just a word or two to say with regards to the pleas put on record. At the end there were two pleas which were extremely curious. It was said that in July, 1890, Mr. Wilde wrote and published, with his name upon the title page, a certain immoral and obscene work, in the form of a narrative, entitled "A Picture of Dorian Grey," and in the month of September, 1894, that he published a certain immoral and obscene work in the form of a magazine entitled "The Chameleon." Why they should be added he could hardly imagine, except it was that his learned friend desired something to fall back on. It was true that Mr. Wilde contributed to the "The Chameleon" "Phrases and Philosophies for the Young," but he should be amazed if his learned friend was able to get from them anything which in the remotest degree supported a suggestion hostile to the moral character of Mr. Wilde.

Evidence having been given by Sydney Wright, hall porter of the Albemarle Club, of the publication of the alleged libel,

Mr. Oscar Wilde was called and examined by Sir Edward Clarke. He generally corroborated the statement made by Sir Edward in opening the proceedings. Describing the interview with the man Wood, he said—When Wood entered his room he said, "I suppose you will think very badly of me?" I replied, "I heard that you have letters of mine to Lord Douglas, which you certainly ought to have handed back to him." He handed me three or four letters, and said 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 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 paid him 15l.The letters remained in my hand all the time.

Did some men 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. [Laughter.] 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 60l. for it." I said to him, "If you take my advice you will go to that man and sell the letter to him for 60l. [Laughter.] 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 60l." (Loud laughter.) 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 60l. 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.

Did Allen then go away?—Yes, and in about five or six minutes Cliburn came to the house. I went out, and said, "I cannot bother anymore about this matter." He produced the letter out of his pocket, and said, "Allen has asked me to give it back to you." I did not take it immediately, but asked "Why does he give me back this letter?" He said, "Well, he says that you were kind to him, and that there is no use trying to rend you as you only laugh at us." I looked at the letter and saw that it was extremely soiled. I said to him, "I think it quite unpardonable that better care was not taken in the original manuscript of mine." (Laughter.) He said he was very sorry, but it had been in so many hands. I took the letter and said, "I will accept it back, and you can thank Allen from me for all the anxiety he has shown about it." I gave him half-a-sovereign for his trouble, and then said, "I am afraid you are leading a wonderfully wicked life." (Laughter.) 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. With reference to the interview with Lord Queensberry, witness said—About the end of June Lord Queensberry called upon me, in the afternoon, accompanied by a gentleman with whom I was not acquainted. I said to him, "I suppose you have come to apologise for the statement you made about my wife and myself in the letter you wrote to your son. 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. If I catch you and my son together in any public restaurant I will thrash you." I said, "I do not know what Queensbury rules are, but the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot on sight." (Laughter.) I then told Lord Queensberry to leave my house. He said he would not do so. 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."

Cross-examined by Mr Carson—The prosecutor said Lord Alfred Douglas is about 24 and was about 20 or 21 years of age when he first knew him. Notwithstanding Lord Queensberry’s protest his friendship with Lord A. Douglas continued to the present moment. He took rooms in St. James’s place, and Lord Douglas had stayed in those chambers. He thought the two poems published by Lord A. Douglas in "The Chameleon" as exceedingly beautiful poems.

You 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 wrong and the subject wrong.

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 accolade was not immoral?—It was worse, it was badly written." (Laughter.)

Do you think the story blasphemous?—I think it violated every canon of artistic beauty. (Laughter.) He never did anything to inform the public that he disapproved of "The Chameleon." He thought it beneath his dignity as a man of letters to write a letter dissociating himself from the work of an Oxford undergraduate. He did not consider that any book or work of art ever had any effect on conduct at all. He was concerned entirely with literature—to try and make a thing which should have some quality of beauty or emotion.(Laughter.)

Mr. Carson—Here is one of your phrases in philosophy for the young— "Wickedness is a myth, invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others." (Laughter.) Do you think that is true?

Witness—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 the 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 very pleasing paradox, but I do not set very high store on it as an axiom. (Laughter.)

Is it good for the young?—Anything is good that stimulates thought, in whatever age. (Laughter.)

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. (Laughter.)

"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. (Laughter.)

"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 in the present who start life with perfect profiles, and end by adopting some useful profession." (Laughter.)—I should think that the young have enough sense of humour to know what is meant by that.

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.

Witness was next cross-examined as to the man Wood, and he said he was a young man of no occupation. They dined together at the Florence restaurant. He was asked to be kind to him by Lord Alfred Douglas. He did not care for a man's social position. Wood was not an artist. He gave Wood 16l.— Mr. Carson: I suggest that the next day you gave him another 5l.—That is so. I gave it to him as he represented that he should arrive in America without a penny.—Mr. Carson: Do you really suggest that you gave him this 21l. out of charity?—It is not for me to make the suggestion to the jury.—Mr. Carson: you lunched with him before he went?—Yes.—Mr Carson: You lunched with a man whom you thought was going to blackmail you?—Yes, because he convinced me he had no such intention.—Mr. Carson; Did he call you "Oscar?"—Yes.—Further questioned, witness said he knew the man Allen as a blackmailer.—Mr Carson: Why did you give a notorious blackmailer 10s. if he gave you nothing?—I gave it to him out of contempt. (Laughter.)—Mr. Carson: Is that the way you show your contempt? (Laughter.) I suppose he was pleased with your expression of contempt?—He was apparently pleased with my kindness.

Mr. Carson—You say you have written many beautiful letters: did you ever have any except the one found out turned into a sonnet?—Witness: I don't know what you mean. I should have to go through the whole of modern poetry to discover that. (Laughter.) Continuing, Mr. Wilde described his friendship with a lad in a publishing office, who had an intelligent face. He had given him sums of 4l. and 5l., and had presented him with copies of his works. He had also become acquainted with a boy at Worthing, but he did not know he got his living by selling newspapers.

Mr. Carson—Was his conversation literary?—Witness: On the contrary, it was quite simple and easy to understand. (Laughter.) He was a pleasant, nice creature. (Renewed laughter). His mother kept a lodging house and his desire was to see the sea. (Laughter.) Witness further stated that he presented the latter lad with a cigarette case and a walking stick and took him with him to Brighton. He gave him new clothes for the purpose.

Mr. Carson—And a straw hat with a blue and red ribbon?—Witness: That, I think, was his unfortunate selection. (Laughter.)

Mr. Carson—But you paid for it. Witness: Yes.

Mr Carson—You dressed him up, in fact, in order that he might look more like your equal?—Witness: Oh, no; he could not look like that. (Laughter.)

The witness was still under examination when the case was adjourned.