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London, April 4.-For the first time in the history of the Old Bailey the dock of that Court was yesterday, occupied by a peer of the realm. This was John Shelton Douglas, Marquis of Queensberry, who stood there to answer a charge of criminal libel against Mr. Oscar Wilde, yet though it was the marquis who was technically in the dock it was quite evident that before the day's proceedings finished it was his accuser, the heavily jowled, broad-shouldered person lounging ungracefully over the front of the witness-box, who really stood on his defence before the world. The case was interesting throughout. The trial, as the day waned and the centre of gravity, as it were, shifted from the defendant to the prosecutor, became absolutely dramatic, and I have never seen so crowded a court preserve such absolute silence as during the half-hour of Mr.Wilde's cross-examination.

Crowded is hardly the term to apply to the courtroom; it was absolutely suffocatingly packed. According to Under-Sheriff Beard, who has much experience in these matters, no notable case of the last decade has attracted quite so many spectators and as the body of the Court was very much monopolized by briefless barristers and very juvenile juniors, the public gallery served as an overflow from the Bench and solicitors' table, and was jammed tight with notabilities of every description.

THE MARQUIS IN THE DOCK.

When Justice Henn Collins took his seat at half-past ten, the Marquis of Queensberry, whose blue hunting stock and closely trimmed muttonchop whiskers gave him a somewhat horsey appearance, moved from his position at the end of the solicitor's table, where he sat eying Mr. Wilde, who sat at the same place with an expression of grave anxiety in his heavy features, and stepped quietly into the dock where, refusing with quiet dignity the offer of a chair made to him, he stood throughout the long day.

As he stood there he, in company with the crowd in the Court, listened first to the indictment charging him with libelling Mr.O. Wilde on a card, and then after pleading justification, heard Sir Edward Clarke deliver the long statement with which the trial opened. From this it was seen "as through a glass darkly" what form the plea of justification was going to assume. After referring in eulogistic terms to the career of the prosecutor, and mentioning the circumstances under which he had formed Lord Alfred Douglas's acquaintance, Sir E. Clarke referred in careful terms to the blackmailing scandal in which Mr. Wilde had been concerned some two years ago, and which concerned itself with a letter written by him to Lord A. Douglas, which had found its way into the possession of a man named Wood with whom, as it subsequently appeared, Mr. Wilde had some acquaintance.

THE FOURTH LETTER.

Other letters addressed to the same person were given up by Wood to Mr. Wilde, who thereupon paid his passage to America and gave him some money in addition, but a fourth letter was kept back, a copy of it being subsequently sent anonymously to Mr. Beerbohm Tree, who Forwarded it on to Mr. Wilde. A man named Allen next brought the original of the fourth letter and wanted to sell it to Mr. Wilde, but Mr. Wilde refused saying: "I now have the copy, the original is of no use. I look upon it as a work of art. Now you have sent me a copy, I don't want the original."

He gave Allen half a sovereign and sent him away with the original, and to a man named Clyburn, who next came and returned Mr. Wilde the original, he gave another half sovereign. This letter, according to his counsel, Mr. Wilde regarded as a prose sonnet, and indeed, since then, in May, 1893, it had appeared in sonnet form in the Spirit Lamp, an aesthetic magazine edited by Lord A. Douglas. The letter was as follows, written from Torquay:-

My own dear 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 music of song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know that 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 and 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 to Salisbury first. Always with undying love, yours Oscar.

THE MARQUIS AT THE ST. JAMES'S.

In mentioning later on the fact that the Marquis went to St. James's Theatre on the first night of "The Importance of Being Earnest," carrying a bouquet of vegetables he was refused admittance, Sir E. Clarke suggested that there was doubt as to whether the Marquis was always responsible for his actions. He then took up the last two statements added to the plea of justification, which were to the effect that Mr. Wilde in July, 1890, wrote and published a certain immoral obscene work in the form of a narrative entitled The Picture of Dorian Grey, and that in December, 1894, was published a certain other immoral and obscene work in the form of a magazine, entitled The Chameleon, which contained divers obscene matters, and that he contributed thereto certain immoral maxims as the introduction to the same under the title of "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young."

The gist of this last accusation, as Sir Edward pointed out, was that one contribution to the magazine in question was entitled "The Priest and the Acolyte," which was of such nature that even Mr. Wilde's counsel characterized it as a disgrace to literature, expressing his amazement that anyone should write it, and his still greater announcement that any decent publishers should publish it. Sir Edward wound up his address by giving with effective skill, which did not, however (as he was careful later on to make clear) quite satisfy Mr. Wilde's artistic judgment, a synopsis of the plot of Dorian Grey, which he said was the story of a young man of good birth, great wealth and much personal beauty.

Certainly, the vices in which this youth eventually indulges were hinted at, said Sir Edward, but he should be surprised if his learned friend could point to any passage which did more than describe, as novelists and dramatists must, passions and vice of life which they might desire to reproduce in a work of art.

EVIDENCE OF THE LIBEL.

This ended Sir Edward's address, and after calling the porter of the Albemarle Club to give formal evidence as to the publication of the libel, Mr. O. Wilde was asked to step into the witness box. He strode deliberately thereinto and occupied a few seconds after he sworn in arranging, in convenient proximity to his elbow, a glass of water. He then lounged over the rail of the stand, as I have already said, in a clumsy posture, clasping his hands nervously in font of him over a pair of dogskin gloves he held, and occasionally wiping his forehead with his hand or with his handkerchief.

He was asked to take a seat but preferred the ungraceful posture which I have described. Close behind him sat the fragile-looking Lord A. Douglas and the sturdier and more manly looking Lord Douglas of Hawick. With an occasional suggestion of flippancy he bore out the opening statement of his counsel as regards Lord Alfred and his dealings with the alleged blackmailers. He then detailed the incidents if the call made upon him by Lord Queensberry at his Tite-Street residence in 1894, in course of which he said to him: "Lord Queensberry, do you seriously accuse your son and me?" to which the Marquis replied: "I do not say you are what people allege, but you look it and you pose as it, which is just as bad."

THREATENED TO TRASH HIM.

At this Lord Queensberry, from his place in the dock, smiled gently and the crowd in the Court burst into a murmur of applause, which was instantly suppressed at the stern instance of the judge. According to the prosecutor the interview ended by Lord Queensberry threatening to trash him if he caught him at any public restaurant with his son, and Mr. Wilde replied: "I don't know what the Queensberry rules are, but the Wilde rules are to shoot at sight."

With regard to the Chameleon Mr. Wilde said he had no connection with it, except as a contributor, and disapproved of "The Priest and the Acolyte."

Mr. Carson, in quietly measured but perceptibly Irish accent, then took the witness in hand. Mr. Wilde had given his age as thirty-nine: It appeared from a birth certificate that he was over forty, and that when he first made the acquaintance of Lord Alfred Douglas the latter was twenty or twenty-one. It appeared that the two had stayed together not only at Oxford, Brighton, Worthing, Cromer and other country places, but also at various London hotels and had also stopped in chambers in St. James's-place, occupied by Mr. Wilde in addition to his house in Tite-street, while he had also been abroad several times. When asked whether he approved of Lord Alfred's two poems published in The Chameleon, one of which was entitled "In Praise of Shame," Mr. Wilde replied that he thought them exceedingly beautiful poems, but in the face of extracts read therefrom that there was nothing immoral in them. He did not even think "The Priest and the Acolyte" immoral, but that it was worse; it was badly written. He would not call it blasphemous, however, but only disgusting twaddle. He had never publicly disclaimed connection with The Chameleon.

CROSS-EXAMINED ON "DORIAN GREY."

For nearly an hour Mr. Carson cross-examined Mr. Wilde upon his own book of Dorian Grey, the cross-examination eliciting from Mr. Wilde such would-be epigrammatic statements as that: views belong to people who are not artists," "I have no knowledge of the ordinary individual," "everything I write is extraordinary," "I have never given adoration to anyone but myself," "I have never been jealous," "I do not think anything I have ever written is true," and so forth and so on.

His remark that everything he wrote was extraordinary was called forth by the reading of a letter from him to Lord Alfred, which began--

Savoy Hotel Dearest of all boys, Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, for I am sad and out of sorts. And ended-- My bill here is £49 for a week, but why are you not here, my dear own boy? Fear I must leave. No money, no credit, and a heart of lead. From your own Oscar.

In regard to one of the alleged blackmailers, named Wood, Mr. Wilde admitted he had met him at the Cafe Royal, and on the first night he saw him he took him to supper in a private room at the Hotel Florence, in Rupert-street, and gave him £2, though he was neither an artist nor a literary man, nor a man of his own social position. He also admitted that afterwards he gave Wood £2, with which to go to America. He also gave him a farewell luncheon. He called Wood Alfred and Wood called him Oscar, as did also the other blackmailer Taylor. He also admitted that none of his many letters to Alfred save the one which was discovered had been subsequently turned into sonnets or characterised by him as prose poems. All the letters, however, were beautiful.

FURTHER CROSS-EXAMINATION.

Leaving discussion of Mr. Wilde's literature aside for the moment Mr. Carson proceeded to question him as to his intimacy with a young man in the employment of Messrs. Elkin Matthew and John Lane, publishers of the Yellow Book. Mr. Wilde objected to the youth being termed an office boy, but admitted he was very fond of him and had taken him to the theatre, to the Lyric Club, to the Cafe Royal and to a private room at Kettmans' and also the Albemarle Hotel, and had on various occasions given him money.

He also admitted he knew a lad at Worthing, named Alfonso Conway, who, according to Mr. Carson, sold newspapers at that place and "enjoyed himself in being idle." He was a lad of no literary ambition and of but little education. He had given him a suit of clothes, a walking stick, which was produced in court, a straw hat, which was likewise on exhibit, and a cigarette case and a photograph of himself, not to make him look like his equal, "for he could never look like that, but because he was a pleasant nice creature."

THE CASE ADJOURNED

At this point the case was adjourned, the defendant, somewhat significantly, being allowed to depart on his own recognisances in the sum of £500, a reduction from the former bail of £2,000.

The enormous crowd then filtered out of the stuffy court-room to spread the gossip and striking features of the day's hearing in every direction. Among the minor incidents worth notice I may mention a curious slip made by Sir Edward Clarke in his opening, when he referred to the defendant as Lord Rosebery and lost his temper to such an extent that he testily admonished the spectators for tittering at his mistake.

I may also refer to the calmness with which Mr. Wilde answered question after question, which must to all appearance seriously damage his case. Finally the extreme cleverness of Mr. Carson's cross-examination was the general theme of admiration. The dramatic manner in which he at first played around the more trivial affairs of Mr. Wilde's books and articles, as if these were of chief importance, and finally brought out his really serious points with sledgehammer directness and solemnity, was regarded by his fellow barristers as masterly.

Naturally rumors of all sorts were flying round last night, some of them connecting, so far as could be found, names of various prominent people with the case. The most important and most apparently vague was to the effect that Mr. Wilde left London by the night mail to Dover on his way to Ostend. It is at least certain that Mr. Wilde was to be found last night neither at Tite-street nor at any of his usual resorts.

At one o'clock this morning Lord Queensberry had heard nothing definite either in confirmation or denial of the rumor.

The criminal proceedings for libel which 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 is enormous. Long before the hour appointed for the opening of the court doors their vicinity is thick with humanity, and five minutes after they have been thrown open the court is crammed to suffocation. So it was on Wednesday and Thursday. 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 Clark opened the case. 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 Mr. 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 Mr. 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 Mr. Wilde spoke freely in his examination later on. One of these letters addressed by Oscar to young Douglas was read by Sir Edward. It ran thus: —

My own dear boy — Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for music of song than for madness of kissing. 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 and 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.

A review of the meetings between the marquis and Oscar concluded a long and able opening.

After the Albemarle porter had proved the marquis's call, &, 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 was kicked out of the Savoy Hotel on account of disgusting conduct, gave Oscar up to the tender mercies of Carson, Q.C. The learned counsel commenced to cross-examine Oscar somewhat minutely as to his literary output, but more especially in regard to certain poetic contributions to a fin de siècle magazine called The Chameleon. Carson, Q.C., suggested that these contributions would convey improper suggestions, but Oscar said "No." He considered them exceedingly beautiful poems. Regarding a very warm story entitled "The Priest and the Acolyte," which most people attributed to Oscar, the æsthete denied the authorship. He thought it was badly written, but would not call it immoral or blasphemous. As Oscar had already stated that in his opinion there is no such thing as an immoral book, the point of Carson's examination at this juncture was not apparent. But he kept to Oscar's literature, and presently "Dorian Grey" was dragged in. Oscar repudiated the suggestion that Dorian's sin was "unnatural vice," and remarked that the book could only be called vicious when misinterpreted by the vulgar and the illiterate. Oscar said he did not write for the "ordinary individual," which brought from Carson, Q.C., the remark that the novelist did not mind the ordinary individual buying his books. "I have never discouraged him," quoth Oscar loftily. Asked if he had ever experienced the sentiments of the painter Basil, and whether he thought them natural, Oscar made answer, "I should think it perfectly natural to intensely adore and love a younger man. It is an incident in the life of almost every artist." Carson, Q.C., wanted to know if Oscar had himself adored madly a man twenty years his junior? He said he had loved one - not madly, but just loved one. Adoration was a thing he reserved to himself. He had, however, never been jealous; jealousy was, he thought, an intense nuisance. Then Mr. Carson came to the novelist's letter to young Douglas. The one quoted, Mr. Carson suggested, was an improper letter to write to a 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 lawyer gravely. He then read another of Oscar's "prose-poems," which ran thus: —

Dearest of all boys, your letter was delightful. Red and yellow wine to me. But I am 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. 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 (at Goring) is £49 for the week. I have got a new sitting-room, over the Thames. But, you, why are you not here, my dear, my beautiful boy? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit, and a heart of lead. -Ever your own, OSCAR.

"An extraordinary letter," commented Oscar softly. "Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary." Mr. Carson then reverted to the episode of the letters upon which a man named Cleburn attempted to blackmail Mr. Wilde, and touched upon the plaintiff's relations with two young men, named Wood and Taylor. Oscar denied improper conduct with these men, but admitted having "dined and wined" them in private rooms at the Café Florence, and to having given Wood various sums of money amounting to over £30 "out of pure kindness." He admitted also that, though believing Wood to be levying blackmail, he privileged him to use his Christian name. But he explained that everybody called him "Oscar." Passing on to another case Mr. Carson questioned the plaintiff as to his friendship for Edward Shelley, sometime an assistant in Messrs. Elkin Lane's office. Oscar repudiated all sinister suggestions in connection with this youth. Shelley had an intellectual face and literary ambitions, so Oscar dined him at the Albemarle Hotel in a private room, and gave him autograph copies of "Dorian Gray" and other Wilde works. Then Oscar's intimacy with a youth named Alphonso Conway was enquired into. Alphonso was a "pleasant creature" whose "simple conversation" attracted Wilde so much that he gave him a silver cigarette case, an inscribed photograph, an autograph volume, a silver-mounted walking-cane, a blue serge suit, and a straw hat, and finally took him for a trip to Brighton. All this Oscar did out of kindness, and not with any idea of subverting the lad's morals.

On Thursday Mr. Carson continued his crusade, and Oscar was called upon to answer an exhaustive series of questions as to his "friendship" for other young men. He admitted that he took to Paris a boy named Atkins, and shared a suite of rooms, all communicating, with the lad. But he denied any impropriety, and waxed very indignant when Mr. Carson made the "monstrous suggestion" that he had "plied Atkins with wine." The case of Ernest Scarth was next on the board. Scarth was, said Oscar, "a pleasant, nice, good fellow," who had been kind to Lord Douglas of Hawick during a voyage from Australia, so he dined the young man. Oscar indignantly denied that he kissed Scarth or had acted improperly with the young fellow. Similarly he denied that he had committed any impropriety with one Sydney Maror, who stayed with him all night at the Albermarle, and to whom he gave a four-guinea cigarette case. He did these things simply for the sake of conversing with "a very charming, nice fellow." Now came a little scene. Oscar was questioned as to his relations with a lad named Granger, who was Lord Alfred Douglas's servant at Oxford. "Have you ever kissed this boy?" demanded Carson, Q.C., abruptly. Oscar replied airily, "Oh, no! certainly not. A peculiarly plain boy." The counsel pounced on this expression instantly, asked if it was only because the boy was ugly that he was not kissed. Oscar for the first time hesitated before answering, and then replied evasively, "No; because it seems such an intense insult on your part. It seems ridiculous to imagine that any such thing could have occurred." "Then why mention his ugliness?" demanded the Q.C. sternly. "I should not like to kiss a boy," replied Oscar, adding hotly, "Am I to be cross-examined as to the reasons I should not like to kiss a boy?" "Well, why mention his ugliness?" reiterated Carson, Q.C., blandly. "Because," exclaimed Oscar shrilly, "you sting me with insolent questions; you try to unnerve me in every way, and make me say things flippantly that I would not say seriously." Carson, Q.C., agreed to take the "ugliness" as a flippant answer, but smiled meaningly at the jury. At 12.30 the cross-examination concluded, and Sir Edward Clarke rose to re-examine. He read several pathetic letters from Lord Queensberry to young Douglas, which it is not necessary to dwell upon. Certainly they tended to show that the marquis deemed his son's close friendship with Wilde a horrible thing, which should be smashed no matter the cost. The re-examination proper enabled Oscar to deny the defendant's statement that Mrs. Wilde was seeking divorce, but Sir Edward did not take his client over the ground covered by Mr. Carson again. The jury having asked a few questions relative to the publication of the Chameleon the case for the prosecution was closed.

Mr. Carson then rose to address the jury on the more serious side of the justification of the alleged libel. He 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 has been absolutely consistent throughout. 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. Had they been able to cross-examine Taylor they would have learned what went on. Taylor was the pivot of the case, for the simple reason that when they heard the witnesses examined — and he would be unfortunately compelled to examine them on the immoral practices of Mr. Oscar Wilde — it would be found that Taylor was the man who introduced them to Wilde. When Mr. Wilde wanted to show that someone was present he mentioned a gentleman who could not be called because he was out of the country; but Taylor was in the country and could have been called. They were told that the friendship of Wilde and Taylor had not been interrupted. 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 is 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, 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 literateur or artist. 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." Unable to persuade the rector as Mr. Wilde had been unable to persuade the public of the beauty of this love the priest and the acolyte resolved to die together upon the altar. The priest administered poison and they died together on the altar in an embrace after the priest had used the sacred words and forms of the Christian faith. When asked if that was not blasphemy Mr. Wilde said that he did not think it was. The same idea ran through those two letters which Mr. Wilde called beautiful, but which he called disgusting. Moreover, there was in this same Chameleon a poem which showed some justification for the frightful anticipations which Lord Queensberry entertained for his son. The poem was written by Lord Alfred Douglas, and 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?

This (Friday) morning the case came to an abrupt but perhaps not unexpected ending. Mr. Carson was continuing his rigorous 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.