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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRIES OF "SHAME!"

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

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

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

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

SIX HOURS DAILY ON THE TREADMILL.

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

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

THE PLANK BED AND FOOD.

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

Cocoa and bread for breakfast at 7 30.

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

Tea at 5 30, as already stated.

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

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

HE MAY EARN 10s.

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

A REMINISCENCE.

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

MR. LABOUCHERE ON THE WILDE CASE.

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

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

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

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

The trial of Oscar Wilde, 40, author, on an indictment charging him with certain misdemeanours, was resumed on Saturday. The Marquess of Queensberry was again in attendance, as also were the gentlemen who had been the Prisoners sureties, Lord P. Douglas and the Rev. Stewart Headlam.

The Solicitor General, resuming his speech in his reply on behalf of the Crown, dealt in detail with the arguments laid before the Jury by Sir Edward Clarke in defence of Wilde, and he commented in strong terms on observations that were made respecting the lofty situation Mr. Wilde in connection with his literary accomplishments for the purpose of unduly influencing the judgment of the Jury in considering the issue before them, and said the Jury ought to discard absolutely any such appeal, to apply their common sense to the testimony, and to form a conclusion on the evidence, which he submitted fully established the charges. He was commenting on another branch of the case when Sir E. Clarke interposed on the ground that the Solicitor General was alluding to incidents connected with another trial. The Solicitor General maintained that he was strictly within his rights.

The Judge held that the Solicitor General was entitled to make the comments he was making.

An observation from the Solicitor General bearing on the interruption of Sir Edward Clarke evoked laughter in court.

The Judge said this sort of thing was most offensive to him. It was painful enough to have to try such a case as the present and keep the scales of justice evenly balanced, and when the Court was pestered with the applause and other expressions of the feelings of senseless people, who had no business with the case, but came only to satisfy the cravings of a morbid curiosity, it was intolerable. If it were repeated he would have the court cleared.

The Solicitor General criticised the answers given by Wilde to the charges, which explanations, he submitted, were not worthy of belief. The Jury could not fail to put the interpretation on the conduct of the Prisoner that he was a guilty man, and they ought to say so by their verdict.

The Judge, in summing-up, referred to the difficulties of the case in some of its features. He regretted that, if the conspiracy counts were unnecessary, or could not be established, they should have been placed in the indictment. The Jury must not surrender their own independent judgment in dealing with the facts, and ought to discard everything which was not relevant to the issue before them, or did not assist their judgment. He did not desire to remark any more than he could help about Lord Alfred Douglas or the Marquess of Queensberry, but tbe whole of this lamentable inquiry arose through the Defendant's association with Lord Alfred Douglas. He did not think that tbe action of the Marquess of Queensberry, in leaving the card at the Defendant's club, whatever motives he had, was that of a gentleman. The Jury were entitled to consider that these alleged acts happened some years ago. They ought to be the best judges as to whether the testimony of the witnesses was worthy or not of belief. The letters written by the Prisoner to Lord Alfred Douglas were undoubtedly open to suspicion, and they had an important bearing on Wood's evidence. There was no corroboration of Wood as to the visit to Tite-street, and if his story had been true he thought that some corroboration might have been obtained. Wood belonged to the vilest class of persons that society was pestered with, and the Jury ought not to believe his story unless it was satisfactorily corroborated. Their decision must turn on the character of the first introduction of Wilde to Wood. Did they believe that Wilde was actuated by charitable motives or by improper motives ?

The Foreman of the Jury, interposing, asked whether a warrant had been issued for the arrest of Lord Alfred Douglas, and it not whether it was contemplated that a warrant should be issued.

The Judge. — l cannot tell ; nor need we discuss that, because Lord Alfred Douglas may yet have to answer a charge. He was not called. There may be a thousand considerations of which we may know nothing that might prevent his appearance in the witness-box. I think you should deal with the matter upon tho evidence before you.

The Foreman.— If we are to deduce any guilt from these letters, it applies equally to Lord Alfred Douglas as to the Defendant.

The Judge. — Quite so ; but how does that relieve the Defendant ? We have got the testimony of his guilt to deal with now. I believe that to be the recipient of such letters, and to continue the intimacy, is as fatal to the reputation of the recipient as to the sender ; but that you have really nothing to do with at present. Our present inquiry is about the man who is in the dock, whether the guilt is brought home to him.

After a brief adjournment, the Judge alluded to the Parker case. He said the Jury had seen the Parkers as they had seen Wood, and the same question must arise in their minds. Were those the kind of young men with whom they themselves would care to sit down to dine ? Were they the sort of persons one expected to find the companions of men of education ? It was a very long time ago for the waiter to remember having served the supper at the Savoy, and the sums that appeared in the bill were high for such a supper. He (the Judge) knew nothing of the Savoy ; but he thought "chicken and salad for two, 16s." very high. He was afraid he would never have supped there himself. Having considered the whole of the evidence, he concluded that the question was whether this was evidence of guilt or of suspicion, and this question would have to be answered by the Jury, whom he desired to thank for the patience displayed through the prolonged inquiry.

The Jury retired at 3.30, taking with them a series of questions which had been written for them by the Judge.

Two hours later the Jury sent a request to the Judge that he would read certain of his notes in reference to Charles Parker. The Judge did so, and the Jury again retired. They were not absent many minutes, and returned with a verdict against Wilde on each of the six counts of the indictment. Upon the count relating to Shelley, the verdict was Not Guilty.

Alfred Taylor was then brought into the dock to receive sentence.

Sir E. Clarke asked that sentence might be postponed to the next Sessions, on the ground that a demurrer stood on the record alleging that the indictment was bad.

Mr. Grain, for Taylor, made a similar application on behalf of his client.

The Solicitor General opposed the application, on the ground that sentence being passed could not prejudice any future argument.

The Judge. — It is not a matter about which I entertain any doubt, and to pass sentence now would in no sense prejudice the result of the inquiry. I think it may be well to complete the proceedings here on the other count.

In passing sentence, the Judge, speaking with great emotion, said — Oscar Wilde and Alfred Taylor, it has never been my lot to try a case of this kind so bad. One has to put a certain constraint upon oneself to prevent one from describing in language which I would rather not use the sentiments which must arise in the breast of every man who has a spark of decent feeling left in him, and who has heard the details of these two terrible trials. That the Jury have arrived at a correct verdict I cannot persuade myself to entertain a shadow of a doubt ; and I hope that at all events those who sometimes imagine that a Judge is half-hearted in cases of indecency and immorality, because he takes care that no prejudice shall enter into them, may see that that is consistent at least with the utmost sense of indignation at the horrible crimes brought home to both of you. It is of no use my addressing you. People who can do these things must be dead to every sense of shame, and one cannot hope to produce any effect upon them. It is the worst case I have ever tried. That you, Taylor, kept an infamous house it is impossible to doubt, and that you, Wilde, have been the centre of a circle of extensive corruption among young men of the most hideous kind, it is equally impossible to doubt. I shall, under such circumstances, be expected to pass the severest sentence that the law allows ; in my judgment it is utterly inadequate for such cases. The sentence upon each of you is imprisonment with hard labour for two years.

As the Judge concluded, Wilde, clutching the front of the dock and holding himself back at arms' length, said, "May I say nothing, my Lord ? "

The Judge looked at him, but did not speak. For a moment the silence in court was painful, and then there burst forth loud hisses and cries of "Shame!" which the ushers failed to suppress. Before the convict Wilde could repeat his question, two warders seized him, and hurried him below to tbe cells.