The Yorkshire Evening Post - Friday, April 5, 1895

Oscar Wilde was again busy making epigrams in his evidence yesterday. The following are a few of the replies he made in answering Mr. Carson:—

To me youth, the mere fact of youth, is so wonderful that I would sooner talk to a young man for half an hour that even be cross-examined in court. (Laughter.)

I never met him in society, certainly not: but he has been in my society, which is more important. (Laughter.)

An invitation to dinner is one of the best ways of pleasing anyone not of your social position. (Laughter.)

I never inquire into people's pasts.

I like to be called either Oscar or Mr. Wilde.

I have never asked him his age. I think it vulgar to ask people their age.

THE ART OF THE MUSIC HALL.

Alluding to one of the persons named, Mr. Carson ask:—

Did he discuss literature with you?—No,I did not allow him.

That was not his line?—The art of the music hall was as far as he got.

COOKING ALSO AMONG THE ARTS.

Also from the evidence—

Did be use to do his own cooking?—That I don't know. I have never dined there. I don't know there was anything wrong in it.

Have I suggested that there was anything wrong?—No, cooking is an art.

Another art?—Yes.

OSCAR AND HIS DOCTOR.

During the course of the trial, yesterday, an allusion was made to iced champagne.

Is that a favourite drink of yours?—Yes; strongly against the doctors orders.

Never mind the doctor's orders.—No, I don't. (Laughter.)

THE NEWSBOY AND LITERATURE.

Mr. Carson to Wilde:

With regard to Alfonso Conway, did you ever hear that he had been employed as a newspaper boy?—No, I never heard that he was connected with literature in any form. (Laughter.)

THE POETS OF THE MUSIC-HALL.

The price of a music-hall song was also elicited by Carson:

Did you give Atkins any money?—I gave him £3 15s. to buy his first song for the music hall stage. He told me that poets who wrote for the music-hall stage never take less. (Laughter.) I had the pleasure of meeting one of the poets.

THE MAN WHO NEVER WALKED.

One more passage from the cross-examination of the unhappy brilliant mortal who to-day closes his career in shame:

Do you know where Park Walk is? - In Chelsea.

Five or ten minutes' walk from Tite Street.—Oh, I never walk.

In paying your visits to your friends you would keep your cab outside?—Oh, yes, certainly—if it was a good cab.

THE MYSTERIOUS "MR. B."

The Court has been much mystified during the Wilde trial as to the identity of the gentleman who is referred to constantly as the one whose name was "written on the paper." Except that he is a Mr. B., and a gentleman of position and high repute, and that he has been for some time out of England, nothing transpired.

The Standard - Saturday, April 6, 1895

The hearing of the charge against the Marquess of Queensberry of criminally libelling Mr. Oscar Wilde was resumed yesterday at the Central Criminal Court, before Mr. Justice Henn Collins. The defence is a justification of the libel. — The counsel for the prosecution are Sir E. Clarke, Q.C, Mr. C. Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys. Mr. Carson, Q.C, Mr. C. F. Gill, Q.C, and Mr. A. Gill appear for Lord Queensberry ; while Mr. Besley, Q.C, and Mr. Monckton watch the case for Lord Douglas of Hawick, the eldest son ot the Marquess.

Mr. Oscar Wilde entered the court about ten minutes past ten, and the Marquess of Queensberry appeared in the dock as soon as the Judge entered the court.

Mr. Carson at once resumed his cross-examination of Mr. Wilde, who said it was Taylor who arranged the meeting with Wood with reference to the letters. He knew his house in 13, Little Collet-street and had been there seven or eight times.

Used he to do his own cooking ? — I don't know. I never dined there. I don't think he did anything wrong.

I have not suggested that he did ? — Well, cooking is an art (laughter).

Another art! Did he always open the door? — Sometimes he and sometimes any of his friends who might be there.

Were his rooms not rather elaborate for Little Collet-street ? — Yes ; I thought them very pretty rooms.

Were the rooms strongly perfumed ? — I don't know what you mean. He used to burn perfumes just as I do in my rooms.

Just as you do. Did you ever see Wood there ? — No, never, except on the one occasion.

Did you ever see Sidney Maver there ? — Yes. He dined with me a year ago. I have not the remotest idea where he is now.

Has Taylor told you that he had a lady's costume there ? — No, he has never told me so, and I have never heard of it.

You frequently communicated with him by telegraph. Had you any business with him ? — No, none at all. He was a friend of mine.

Was he a literary man ? — He was a young man of great taste and intelligence, and bad been brought up at a very good English public school. I have never seen any created work of his.

I am not talking about that ? — Then what do yon mean by a literary man ?

Did you discuss literature with him ? — He used to listen on the subject.

I suppose that he used to get an intellectual treat also ? — Certainly.

Was he an artist ? — Not in the sense of creating anything. He was extremely intellectual and clever, and I liked him very much.

Used you to get him from time to time to arrange dinners for you to meet young men ? — No. I have dined with him and young men perhaps 10 or 12 times at Solferino's, Kettner's, and the Florence. We usually had a private room, as I prefer dining in private rooms.

Did you send Taylor this telegram : "Could you call at six o'clock. — Oscar, Savoy" ? — Yes. I had received an anonymous letter saying that Alfred Wood was going to blackmail me for certain letters that he had stolen from Lord Alfred Douglas. The matter of my meeting Wood was discussed then.

Who was Fred ? — Fred was a young man to whom I was introduced by the gentleman whose name you handed me yesterday. His other name was Atkins.

You were very familiar with him ? — What do you mean by being familiar ? I liked him.

You told me yesterday that you called persons by their Christian names ? — Always when I like them. If I dislike people I call them something else.

Had you any trouble about Fred ? — Never in my life.

Did you know that Taylor was being watched by the police ? — No, I never heard that.

Do you know that Taylor and Parker were arrested together in a raid made on a house in Fitzroy-square ? — Last year, yes.

Did you know Parker ? — Yes. I do not think that I have seen him at Taylor's rooms, but when Taylor moved to Chapel-street I may have seen him there.

Was not Tayler notorious for introducing young men to older men ? — No ; I have never beard that in my life. He has introduced young men to me.

How many has he introduced to you ? — Do you mean people mentioned in the indictment ?

No. Young men with whom you afterwards became intimate ? — Five or six.

Were they all about 20 years of age ?— Twenty or 22. I like the society of young men.

Had they any occupation ? — That I really do not know.

To how many of them did you give money ? — I should think to all I gave money and presents.

Did they give you anything ? — Me ? No.

Did Taylor introduce you to Charles Parker ? — Yes; he was one of those I became friendly with.

Was he a gentleman's servant out of employment ? — I have no knowledge of that at all. I never heard it ; nor should I have minded. I should become friendly with any human being that I liked.

How old was he ? — Really, I do not keep a census. He may be about 20. He was young, and that was one of his attractions. I have never asked him his age. I think it vulgar to ask people their age.

Was he a literary character ? — Oh, no.

Was he an educated man ? — Culture was not his strong point (laughter).

Did you ever ask him what his previous occupation was ? — I never inquire into people's pasts.

Nor their futures ?— Ah, that is a public matter.

Where is he now ? — I have not the remotest idea.

How much money did you give Parker ? — I should think altogether 4 or 5.

For what? — Because he was poor. He had no money, and I liked him. What better reason could I have ?

Where did you first meet bim ? — At Kettner's, with Alfred Taylor. His brother was also there.

Did you become friendly with his brother ? — They were my guests at table.

On the first occasion you saw them ? — Yes. It was Taylor's birthday, and I asked him to dinner and told him to bring any of his friends.

Did you know that one was a gentleman's valet and the other a gentleman's groom ? — I did not know it, and if I had I should not have cared. I do not care twopence about social position.

What enjoyment was it to you to be entertaining grooms and coachmen ? — The pleasure of being with those who are young, bright, happy, careless, and original.

Taylor accepted your invitation by bringing a valet and a groom ? — That is your account, not mine.

Were they persons of that class ? — I am surprised at your description, as they seemed not to have the manners of that class. They spoke of a father at Datchet who was a person of wealth, or not exactly of wealth ; and Charles Parker said that he was anxious to go upon the stage.

Did you call him Charley on the first evening ? — Yes.

Had you a good dinner ? — I forget the mean, but it was Kettner at his best (laughter).

Of course, you did the honours to the groom and the valet in a private room ? — I entertained Mr. Taylor's friends in a private room.

Did you give them also an intellectual treat ? — They were deeply impressed (laughter).

Did Charles Parker call you Oscar ? — Yes. I like to be called either Oscar or Mr. Wilde.

Had they plenty of champagne ? — What gentleman would stint his guests? (laughter).

Mr Carson. — What gentleman would stint the valet and the groom !

Both the Witness and his Counsel objected to this expression.

After dinner did you not, in the presence of Taylor and William Parker, turn to Charles Parker and say, "This is the boy for me ? " — Most certainly not.

In further cross-examination on this point. Witness denied that Parker ever visited him at the Savoy Hotel. He never gave Parker money until December, 1893. He made no inquiry as to the occupation of the Parkers, nor was he told by Taylor that he had met them first in St. James's Restaurant. Charles Parker visited him at his rooms in St. James's-place, and had tea with him five or six times. He had given Parker a silver cigarette case as a Christmas box. He gave him about 3. or 4. When he asked him for it he said he was hard up.

What did you find attractive in a young man of this class? — I like to be in the society of people much younger than myself. I recognise no social distinctions of any kind, and to me youth, the mere fact of youth, is so wonderful that I would sooner talk to a young man for half an hour than even be examined in court (laughter).

Do I understand that even a young boy yon would pick up in the street would be a pleasing companion ? — I would talk to a street arab with pleasure. Charles Parker had no employment during the time I knew him. He had an allowance from his father, of the smallness of which he complained. I knew he lived at 7, Camera-square. He lunched with me at the Cafe Royal and at St. James's-place, and dined with me at Kettner's. We did not have a private room. We went then to the Pavilion, but we did not go back to St. James's-place. I have never been to see him.

Why ? — Well, it really would not have interested me to go to see him ; while it was interesting to him to see me (laughter). Going to see him is a very different thing to coming to see me.

The Witness further said that he had dined with Parker, Taylor, Wood, and others at Solferino's in the January of this year or December of last year. He did not remember Parker leaving Camera-square for 50, Park-walk. He had not written him any beautiful letters, and did not keep any of Parker's letters except one which was produced. This was a letter from Parker asking Mr. Wilde to wire him whether he (Parker) should have the pleasure of dining with him that evening, and was signed "Yours faithfully, CHARLES PARKER."

Sir Edward Clarke. — I think from the tone in which this has been dealt with, that your Lordship had better have the letter, so that you can see what Parker's letter is like.

Mr. Carson. — Never mind that. Parker himself will be in the box, and the Jury will see what he is like.

Did you go to Parkers, at Park-walk, at 12.30 at night in March or April last year ? — No. I do not know how far Park-walk is from Tite-street. I never walk, I always ride. I keep my cab outside when making calls, if it is a good one (laughter). Proceeding, Witness said he believed Parker had enlisted, and he bad seen that both Parker and Taylor were arrested in a police raid on a house where men were dressed in women's clothes. The learned Counsel took the Witness through the names of the men arrested. Witness denied having heard of one of the Prisoners, Sydney Preston, as connected with the Cleveland-street scandals, nor of another as notorious for certain practices.

When you saw that Taylor was arrested in the company of these people, did it make any difference in your feelings towards him? — When I read it I was greatly distressed, and I wrote and told him so. I did not see bim again till this year, but it bas made no difference in my feelings, and he came to my house last Tuesday.

When did you first know Fred Atkins ?— ln October, 1892. He told me tbat he was connected with a firm of bookmakers. I did not come into contact with him through making bets. I met him at a dinner given by the gentleman whose name you wrote down. I think Taylor was there. We called each other by our Christian names at that dinner.

Did he seem to be an idle kind of fellow? — He seemed to have the charm of idleness. He had an ambition to go on the music-hall stage. I thought him very pleasant.

Did he discuss literature with you ? — No. I did not allow him to.

That; was not his line ? — The art of the music hall was as far as he got. On a subsequent Sunday I saw him and the gentleman mentioned lunching at the Cafe Royal, and they came and had their coffee and cigarettes at my table. I intended to go to Paris the next day to arrange for the publication ot a book, and the gentleman, who was also going with Atkins, suggested that we should go together. It was arranged that we should go on the Monday but on that Sunday the gentleman told me that he could not go till Tuesday or Wednesday, and asked me, as Atkins seemed very disappointed at his stay in Paris being shortened, if I would take him over. I said I would with the greatest pleasure.

How long had you known him ? — About a fortnight.

You went to Paris on the 20th of November by the club train ? — Yes. I paid for his ticket, but was afterwards repaid by the gentleman. Atkins did not go in the capacity of my secretary ; it is childish to ask me such a question. I took him to the rooms where I was staying. I did not, after our arrival, ask Atkins to copy out a page of MS. I took Atkins to lunch at the Cafe Julien. He was my guest, and had certainly not the means to pay for a lunch such as I like.

Did you suggest that he should have his hair curled? — No ; he suggested it, and I said that I thought it would be very unbecoming.

Had he got his hair curled ? — I should have been very angry if he had (laughter). It would have been a silly thing to do.

Did he get his hair curled at Pascal's, under the Grand Hotel ? — Not while I was in Paris.

After dinner did you give Atkins a sovereign to go to the Moulin Rouge ? — Yes.

Did the other gentleman whose name has not been disclosed come to Paris two days afterwards ? — He came on Wednesday, and we all three returned together on Saturday.

Shortly after arriving in London, did yon ask Atkins to call at your house in Tite-street ? — I think I wrote to the other gentleman asking him to bring Fred Atkins. I was ill in bed, and they called, I think, together.

Did you ask Atkins to give you back the letter you had written to him ? — No ; I have no recollection of any letter.

Did yon ask him to say nothing about the visit to Paris ? — Certainly not. I thought it the great event of his life, and it was.

You have been in correspondence with Atkins up to the present year ? — I have written to him on several occasions, and have twice sent him tickets for my plays.

What is his present address ? — Osnaburgh-street.

You have been to tea there ? — Yes.

Was there anyone else there at the time ? — Yes. An actor, about 20 years of age.

Did you give Atkins any money ? — I gave him 3. 15s. to buy his first song on the music-hall stage. He told me that poets who wrote for the music-hall stage never take less (laughter).

Was he alone ? — When he came to St. James's-place I think he was accompanied by this young actor. There never were any improprieties between us. I thought him a very pleasant, good-natured fellow, and as he was going on the music-hall stage I bought him a song.

Did you know Ernest Scarfe? — l met him in 1893. Taylor introduced him. He was a young man about 20, and had no occupation ; but had been in Australia. I did not know he bad been a valet, nor do I know he is employed as that now in a situation. He appeared a very pleasant-spoken young man.

Was he educated? — Education depends on one's standard. I never met him in society, certainly not ; bat he has been in my society (laughter). I have seen him with Taylor. Taylor introduced him to me at St. James's-place.

How did he come to bring that young man there ? — Shall I tell you ? He told me he knew a young man who had met on board ship going out to Australia Lord Douglas of Hawick. They had met at a skating rink, and Taylor brought him to see me.

The honour was quite unexpected? — lt was no shock, but I did not expect him. It was in the early afternoon. I made an appointment for them to dine with me on another day. We dined at Kettner's.

Why did you ask him to dinner ? — Because I am very good natured, and because it is one of the best ways of pleasing anyone not of your social position (laughter). I gave him a cigarette case ; it was my habit (laughter). I last saw Scarfe in February, when he dined with me at the Arundel Hotel. He was then employed as a clerk at a place in St. Pauls-churchy-yard.

When did you first know Sidney Maver ? — ln September, 1892. I do not know where he is now. I never gave him any money, nor a cigarette-case.

You deal at a shop in Bond-street, Thornton's ? — Yes.

Did you not tell them to send a cigarette-case, value 4 11 s. 6d., to S. A. Maver ? — Well, if it is there, perhaps I did so. I give people presents, because I like them.

Did you ask him to stay with you at the Albemarle Hotel ?— Yes.

When was that ? — In October, after I had given him the cigarette-case. I was on my way through for Scotland, and I stayed one night there, and he met me at the station when I arrived, and I asked him to stay at the same place. Maver was living at Notting-hill or West Kensington.

Do you know Walter Granger? — Yes, he was a servant at a certain house in High-street, Oxford, and was about 16. They were the rooms of Lord Alfred Douglas, and I have stayed there several times.

Were you on familiar terms with Granger ? Did you have him to dine with you ? — No, he waited at table.

Did you ever kiss him ? — He was a particularly plain boy. He was, unfortunately, very ugly. I pitied him for it.

Do you say that in support of your statement that you never kissed him ? — No : it is such a childish question to ask me.

Did you not give it me as a reason that you never kissed him that he was too ugly ? — Mr. Wilde (warmly) : I did not say that. The question seemed to me merely an intentional insult on your part, such as I have been going through the whole of this morning.

Why did you mention bis ugliness ? lam obliged to ask you these questions. — It is ridiculous to imagine that any such thing could possibly have occurred under any circumstances.

Then why did yon mention his ugliness ? — For that reason. If I was asked why I did not kiss a doorpost, I should say, " Because I do not like to kiss doorposts," and then am I to be cross-examined because I do not like it ?

Why did you mention the boy's ugliness ? — Perhaps yon stung me by an insulting question.

Was that a reason that yon should say that the boy was ugly ? — Pardon me, I say that you sting me and insult me, and try to unnerve me, and at times one says things flippantly when one should speak more seriously. I admit it.

Then you said it flippantly ? That is what you wish to convey now ? — Oh, do not say that I want to convey anything. I have given you my answer.

But is that it ? It was a flippant answer ? — Oh, it was a flippant answer.

(Mr. Wilde showed considerable excitement during this part of the cross-examination.)

In June. 1893, did yon go to Goring ? — Yes, I took The Cottage there. I engaged Granger as under-butler. I deny that I acted improperly towards him.

Did you ever bring any boys into your room at the Savoy ?— No.

Did you bring boys into your rooms in Paris ? — No. What do you mean by boys ?

Well, youths"from 18 to 20 years of age? — l have many friends in Paris of tbat age who would call upon me.

Did any of them call about midnight and stay until four or five o'clock in the morning ? — Certainly not.

This concluded the cross-examination.

Sir E. Clarke began his re-examination by handing to the Witness a bundle of letters written by Lord Queensberry, and asked — Was it from those letters that you first learned that Lord Queensbeny objected to your acquaintance with his son, Lord Alfred Douglas ? — Yes.

The letters were put in and read by Sir E. Clarke. The first, which was dated April 1, from Parker's Hotel, in Albemarle-street, was addressed by Lord Queensberry to Lord Alfred Douglas. In it Lord Queensberry expressed his pain at having to write in such a strain, and declared that any answer must be delivered in person, as, after "your present hysterically impertinent ones" he declined to read any more letters. " Having had to leave Oxford in disgrace to yourself, the reasons of which were fully explained to me by your tutor, you are now loafing and lolling about, doing nothing." The letter afterwards went on to say that Lord Queensberry utterly "declined to just supply you with just sufficient funds just to enable you to loaf," and added, "You are preparing a wretched future for yourself, and it would be most cruel and wrong for me to encourage you in this." Then came a reference to "your infamous intimacy with this man Wilde." "I am not going" he wrote, "to try to analyse this intimacy, and I make no charge, but to my mind to pose as a thing is as bad as to be it. Never in my experience have I ever seen such a sight as that in your horrible features. No wonder people are talking as they are. I hear, on good authority, that his wife is petitioning to divorce him."

Sir E. Clarke. — Is there any truth in the statement about the petition for divorce? — There is not the slightest foundation for the statement.

Sir E. Clarke then began to read the second letter to Lord Alfred Douglas. It was dated April 3, and began: — "You impertinent young jackanapes, I request that you will not send such messages to me by telegraph."

Mr. Carson. — Read the telegram from Lord Alfred Douglas to his father.

Sir E. Clarke. — Certainly.

The telegram was handed in, and was as follows : —

"To Queensberry. Parker's Hotel, Albemarle-street. — What a funny little man you are. — ALFRED DOUGLAS."

Sir E. Clarke then read the following letter : —

"Tues., 3d, Carter's Hotel, 14 and 15, Albemarle-street, W.

"You impertinent young Jackanapes, — I request yon will not send me such messages through the telegraph, and if you come to me with any of your impertinence I shall give you the thrashing you richly deserve. The only excuse for you is that you must be crazy. I heard from a man the other day who was at Oxford with you that that was your reputation there, which accounts for a good deal that has happened. All I can say is, if I catch you with that man again I will make public scandal in a way you little dream of ; it is already a suppressed one. I prefer an open one, and at any rate I shall not be longer blamed for allowing such a state of things to go on. Unless this acquaintance ceases I shall carry out my threat, and stop all supplies, and if you are not going to make any attempt to do something I shall certainly cut you down to a mere pittance, so you know what to expect.

"QUEENSBERRY."

The next letter was from Lord Queensberry, dated July 6, to the father of Lady Queensberry, who was divorced from him, in which he said he had been much upset by what had happened in the last ten days, and that Lady Queensberry had been stirring his son up to defy him. She telegraphed on the subject to the Defendant the previous night a very equivocating telegram, saying that the boy denied having been at the Savoy Hotel last year. He asked why send the telegram unless the boy could deny that he was ever there with Mr. Wilde. As a matter of fact he did do so, and there had been a scandal. The letter proceeded :— This hideous scandal has been going on for years. Your daughter must be mad the way she is behaving. She evidently wants to I make out I want to make out a case against my son. It is nothing of the kind. I have made out a case against Oscar Wilde, and I have, to his face, accused him of it. If I was quite certain of the actual thing, I'd shoot the fellow at sight, but I am not, and have only accused him of posing, and for that I will chastise and mark him if he won't stop. It now lays in the hands of these two whether they will further defy me, and your daughter appears to me now to be encouraging them to do so, although she can hardly intend this: I don't believe Wilde will now dare defy me. He plainly showed the white feather , the other day when I tackled him. As for this so-called son of mine, I will have nothing to do with him. He may starve as far as I am concerned, after his behaviour to me. His mother may support him, but she shan't do that here in London with this awful scandal going on."

The following also were addressed to Lord Alfred Douglas :

"Scotland, August 21."I have received your postcard, which I presume is from you, but as the writing is utterly unreadable to me, have been unable to make out hardly one sentence. My object of receiving no written communication from you is therefore kept intact. All future cards will go into the fire unread. I presume these are the ' hyerogliphics' (sic) of the O. W. posing . . . . Club, of which you have the reputation of being such a shining light. I congratulate you on your autography, it is beautiful, and should help you to get a living. I don't know what at, but say crossing-sweeping. My friend I am staying with has made out some of your letter, and wished to read it to me, but I declined to hear a word. However, according to his advice, I shall keep it as a specimen, and also as a protection in case I ever feel tempted to give you the thrashing you really deserve. You reptile. You are no son of mine", and I never thought you were. "QUEENSBERRY."

"August 28th, '94, 26, Portland-place, W. "You miserable creature, — I received your telegram forwarded by post from Carter's, and have requested them not to forward any more, but just to tear any up, as I did yours, without reading it, directly I was aware from whom it came. You must be flush of money to waste it on such rubbish. I have learned, thank goodness, to turn the keenest pangs to peacefulness. What could be keener pain than to have such a son as yourself fathered upon one ? However, there is always a bright side to every cloud, and whatever is is light (fie). If you are my son, it is only confirming proof to me, if I needed any, how right I was to face every horror and misery I have done rather than run the risk of bringing more creatures into the world like yourself, and that was the entire and only reason of my breaking with your mother as a wife, so intensely was I dissatisfied with her as the mother of you children, and particularly yourself, whom, when quite a baby, I cried over you the bitterest tears a man ever shed that I had brought such a creature into the world, and unwittingly had committed such a crime. If you are not my son (and in this christian country, with their x x x hypocrites, 'tis a wise father who knows his own child, and no wonder on the principles they intermarry on ; but to be forewarned is to be forearmed. No wonder you have fallen a prey to this horrible brute. I am only sorry for you as a human creature. You must gang your ain gait. Well, it would be rather a satisfaction to me, because the crime then is not to me. As you see, I am philosophical, and take comfort from anything ; but, really, I am sorry for you. You must be demented ; there is madness on your mother's side, and, indeed, few families in this christian country are without it, if you look into them. But please cease annoying me, for I will not correspond with you, nor receive nor answer letters, and, as for money, you sent me a lawyer's letter to say you would take none from me ; but anyhow, until you change your life I should refuse any — it depends on yourself whether I will ever recognise you at all again after your behaviour. I will make allowances, I think you are demented, and I am very sorry for you. "QUEENSBERRY."

Mr. Wilde said those were the letters which first communicated to him the fact that Lord Queensberry objected to his friendship for his son.

Sir E.Clarke proceeded to examine the Witness as to the reviews on " Dorian Gray," and read the passage that was added to the edition published in this country.

In the course of the re-examination the Witness said that Taylor was introduced to him in October, 1892, by the gentleman whose name bad been written down. That gentleman was a person in high position, of good birth and good repute. It was now two years since he had been in England or since Witness had seen him. He knew that Taylor had lost a great deal of money that he had inherited, but had still a share in a very important business. He was educated at Marlborough. With regard to the arrest of Taylor and Parker in Fitzroy-square, be believed that tbey were charged with assembling for a felonious purpose, but the charge against them was dismissed.

After the adjournment there was a delay of some time before Mr. Wilde re-entered the Court. When he did so he apologised to the Judge, stating that the clock at the restaurant where he lunched was wrong. Sir Edward Clarke examined him on certain letters written by Edward Shelly, in which the writer referred to theatres and plays, and the publishing of The Sphinx and Salome by Mr. Wilde. Shelly also made several appeals for money on account of ill-health and the inadequate payment he was receiving at a commercial house in the City.

Were there ever any relations between you and Shelly other than the relations between a man of letters and one who admired his works ? — Never, on any occasion.

With regard to Alfonzo Conway, did you ever hear that he hail been employed as a newspaper boy ? — No, I never heard that he was connected with literature in any form (laughter).

Did Mrs. Wilde see Conway ? — Oh, yes, constantly.

Had you any idea what the occupation had been of the Parkers ? — They told me they were looking for employment. It was represented to me that their father was a man of means, who made them allowances.

When these young men were introduced to you. had you any reason for suspecting them of being immoral or disreputable persons ? — Nothing whatever. Nothing has come to my knowledge that led me to think anything against their character.

Have you ever seen Charles Parker in the Savoy ? — Never in my life.

How was it that after your interview with Lord Queensberry and the letters coming to your knowledge you did not take steps earlier ? — On account of the very strong pressure put upon me by the Queensberry family, which I did not feel myself able to resist.

Mr. Carson, again cross-examining, read the following post-card, addressed by Lord A. Douglas to Lord Queensberry : — "As you return my letters unopened I am obliged to write on a post-card. 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, tbe Cafe Royal, &c, 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. Yon 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 should 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."

Sir E. Clarke intimated that his case was closed, reserving to himself the power to claim to call evidence to rebut any that might be sprung upon him.

Mr. Wilde then left the box.

Mr. Carson, in addressing the Jury for the defence, said that Lord Queensberry withdrew nothing that he had said or written, having done everything with premeditation and a determination at all risks and hazards to try and save his son. His conduct had been absolutely consistent throughout. He (Mr. Carson) was glad that his learned friend had read the letters mentioning names of distinguished persons, as it would remove any impression that might exist as to their being mixed up with the matter that was now being investigated. These references were of a purely political character, arising out of the fact that the late Lord Drumlanrig, the eldest son of the Marquess, was made a member of the House of Lords while Lord Queensberry was not a member, and that he felt aggrieved that the honour should have been conferred on his son while it was not given to him. From beginning to end Lord Queensberry had been influenced with regard to Mr. Oscar Wilde by the one hope alone of saving his son. What had been Mr. Wilde's own case ? That up to a certain date he had met Lord Queensberry, who had been on terms of friendship with him. Lord Queensberry had heard of Mr. Wilde's character, and of these scandals at the Savoy Hotel, which would be proved before them. Mr. Wilde had been going about with young men who were not his equals either in position or education. He thought it would be proved that some of these men were known as some of the most immoral characters in London, and he specially referred to Taylor, who was the right man to assist Wilde in all these orgies with artists and valets. With regard to the books, they were being continually told by Mr. Wilde that they were by an artist for artists, but there was the greatest contrast between his books, which were for the select and not for the ordinary individual, and the way he chose his friends. He took up with Charlie Parker, a gentleman's servant, whose brother was a gentleman's servant ; with young Conway, whose brother sold papers on the pier at Worthing ; and with Scarfe, also a gentleman's servant. Then his excuse was no longer that he was dwelling in regions of art, but that he had such a noble, such a democratic soul (laughter), that he drew no social distinctions, and that it was quite as much pleasure to have the sweeping boy from the streets to lunch or dine with him as the greatest litterateur or artist. He (Mr. Carson) considered the positions absolutely irreconcilable. He thought if they had rested the case alone upon Mr. Wilde's literature they would have been absolutely justified in the course which Lord Queensberry had taken. Lord Queensberry undertook to prove that Mr. Wilde was posing as guilty of certain vices. Mr. Wilde never complained of the immorality of the story of "The Priest and the Acolyte." He knew no distinction, in fact, between a moral and an immoral book. Nor did he care whether the article was in its very terms blasphemous. All that Mr. Wilde said was that he did not approve of the story from a literary point of view. What was that story ? It was the story of the love of a priest for the acolyte who attended him at Mass. Exactly the same idea that ran through the two letters to Lord A. Douglas ran through that story, and through "Dorian Gray." Mr. Wilde said that he did not think it was. The same idea ran through those two letters which Mr. Wiide called beautiful, but which he called disgusting. Moreover, there was in this same Chameleon a poem written by Lord Alfred Douglas, and it was seen by Mr. Wilde before its publication. Was it not a terrible thing that a young man on the threshold of life, who had been for several years dominated by Oscar Wilde, and who had been "adored and loved" by Oscar Wilde, as the two letters proved, should thus show the tendency of his mind upon this frightful subject ? What would be the horror of any man whose son wrote such a poem ? Passing to "Dorian Gray," he described it as the tale of a beautiful young man, who, by the conversation of one who had great literary power and the ability to speak in epigram, just as Mr. Wilde had, and who, by reading of exactly the same kind as that in "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young," had his eyes opened to what they pleased to call the delights of the world. (The learned Counsel read a long extract from Dorian Gray" with a view of maintaining that his contention as to the tendency of the book, was right.) When he was told that Lord Queensberry was to be sent to gaol because he had written this card, he said that he was not only justified, but bound, on the strength of these writings, to take any steps be thought necessary to put an end to this acquaintance. A more thinly-veiled attempt to cover the real nature of the letter called the sonnet had never been made in a Court of Justice. He supposed that his learned friend thought that they knew all about it, and that he had better not give any explanation of it ; but his explanation was futile, because from the letter that they did possess they had no explanation whatever. His learned friend said that a man named Wood had stolen the letters from Lord Alfred Douglas. But who was Wood ? Why, he was Alfred, the friend of Wilde, the friend of Taylor, one of the lot. What was the cause of the strained relations between the two over these letters which caused Mr. Wilde to go to Sir G. Lewis ? What was the reason of the roundabout method of trying to get the letters back ? Wood was not the innocent friend assisted by Wilde out of the largeness of his great heart, but one of the men introduced by Taylor, and when Wilde heard that he had the letters, he said that if Wood wished to turn against him he would have strong corroboration. That was the reason of his anxiety to get the letters at any cost. Taylor might have given a little information about his interview with Wood on the subject, and could probably have told them the whole matter. He was Wilde's bosom friend, and was in close conversation with him on Tuesday last ; but he had not been called. Why did Wilde give Wood 16 ? The one thing that he was anxious for was that Wood should leave the country; so he paid his passage, and, after a farewell lunch at the Florence, he was shipped away to New York, and he supposed that Wilde hoped that he would never see him again. But he was here, and would be examined (sensation). The letters were handed over, except one, and a copy of that was sent to Mr. Beerbohm Tree. With reference to this gentleman, he wished to say that so far as Mr. Tree's name had been introduced into the matter, he acted rightly in simply handing on the letter to Mr. Wilde.

Sir E. Clarke.— There is no question about that.

Mr. Carson said that he made that statement because he had that morning received a cablegram from Mr. Tree, saying that he had seen in America that his name had been mentioned.

The Judge. — There is not the slightest ground for making the slightest suggestion. He acted with the most perfect propriety.

Mr. Carson contended that Mr. Wilde, being in possession of a copy of a letter, had to discover how to get out of it. He told Allan, the blackmailer, it was to be produced as a sonnet. When did he make up his mind to so produce it ? The moment it was discovered it was necessary to make up a case for it, and he then pretended it was a valuable manuscript — a prose poem (laughter). He told that to Allan, the blackmailer. Mr. Carson then read the letter, stating that he took leave to say there was nothing beautiful in the idea; it was absolutely disgusting, especially as addressed to a boy under twenty by a man of forty. He would envy their credulity if they believed that that letter was ever intended for a sonnet. Why were none of the other letters made sonnets ? Only that was made known to the public which had been sent to Mr. Beerholm Tree. The learned Counsel went through the second letter given in The Standard of yesterday. He wished to know if, in view of those letters, they were going to send Lord Queensberry to gaol. He asked them to bear in mind that Lord Queensberry's son was so dominated by Wilde that he threatened to shoot his own father. Lord Queensberry did what he had done most deliberately, and was not afraid to abide by the issue in the Court.

The Court then adjourned. Lord Queensberry being released on 500. bail as before.

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