Galignani Messenger - Thursday, April 4, 1895
This report was originally published in English. Machine translations may be available in other languages.
THE SOCIETY SCANDAL
TRIAL AT THE OLD BAILEY.
CASE AGAINST LORD QUEENSBERRY.
OSCAR WILDE
CROSS-EXAMINED
SENSATIONAL PARTICULARS.
TWO REMARKABLE LETTERS.
London, April 3.
All the appearances of a sensational trial was presented at the Old Bailey to-day, when the Marquis of Queensberry entered the dock to answer the charge of criminally libelling Mr. Oscar Wilde. Although influential people and the ordinary public clamoured at the doors for admission soon after eight o'clock in the morning, it was only the privileged few who gained entry within the judicial precincts. Necessarily, from the peculiar nature of the case, the proceedings were expected to be of a character such as to preclude the admission to court of any but the sterner sex. The Marquis was the first to appear, and was soon followed by Mr. Oscar Wilde, who took a seat at the solicitors' table. By the time Mr. Justice Collins took his seat on the bench the court was crammed, and the counsel engaged were busy with their blue papers. Sir E. Clarke, Q.C., Mr. C. Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys appeared to prosecute; while Mr. Carson, Q.C., Mr. C. F. Gill, and Mr. A. Gill (instructed by Mr. Charles Russell) represented the Marquis of Queensberry; Mr. Besley, Q. C., with Mr. Monckton, watching the proceedings on behalf of Lord Douglas of Hawick, the eldest son of the Marquis.
All the appearances of a sensational trial were presented at the Old Bailey, yesterday, when the Marquis of Queensberry entered the dock to answer the charge of criminally libelling Mr. Oscar Wilde. Although influential people and ordinary public clamoured at the doors for admission soon after eight o'clock in the morning, it was only the privileged few who gained entry with- in the judicial precincts. Necessarily, from the peculiar nature of the case, the proceedings were expected to be of a character such as to preclude the admission to the court of any but the sterner sex. The Marquis was the first to appear, and was soon followed by Mr. Oscar Wilde, who took a seat at the solicitor's table. By the time Mr. Justice Collins took his seat on the bench the court was crammed; and the counsel engaged were busy with their blue papers. Sir E. Clarke, Q.C., Mr. C. Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys appeared to prosecute ; while Mr. Carson, Q.C., Mr. C. F. Gill, and Mr. A. Gill (instructed by Mr. Charles Russell) represented the Marquis of Queensberry; Mr. Besley, Q.C., with Mr. Monckton, watching the proceedings on behalf of Lord Douglas of Hawick, the eldest son of the Marquis. The Clerk read out the indictment to the effect that the Marquis "did unlawfully and maliciously write and publish a false, malicious, and defamatory libel," concerning Mr. O. Wilde, in the form of a card directed to him.
The Clerk read out the indictment to the effect that the Marquis "did unlawfully and maliciously write and publish a false, malicious, and defamatory libel" concerning Mr. O. Wilde, in the form of a card directed to him.
The Clerk read out the indictment, to the effect that the marquis did unlawfully and maliciously write and publish a false, malicious, and defamatory libel concerning Mr Oscar Wilde in the form of a card directed to him.
The trial or JOHN SHOLTO DOUGLAS, MARQUIS of QUEENSBERRY, who surrendered upon an indictment charging him with unlawfully and maliciously writing and publishing a false, malicious, and defamatory libel of and concerning Mr. Oscar Wilde in the form of a card directed to him, was resumed.
John Sholto Douglas, Marquis of Queensberry, surrendered and was indicted for unlawfully and maliciously writing and publishing a false, malicious, and defamatory libel of and concerning Mr. Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde in the form of a card directed to him.
The Marquis said he pleaded not guilty, and that the libel was true, and that it was for the public benefit that it should be published.
The Marquis said he pleaded not guilty, and that the libel was true, and that it was for the public benefit that it should be published.
The Marquis said he pleaded not guilty, and that the libel was true, and that it was for the public benefit that it should be published.
Sir E. Clarke, in opening the case for the prosecution, said the card was a visiting card of the Marquis of Queensberry, and had written upon it, "To Oscar Wilde, posing as --" (an expression which we are unable to print). Of course it was a matter of serious moment that a word as that should in any way be connected with the name of a gentleman who had borne a high reputation in this country. It was an accusation of the gravest of all offences. The accusation of posing no doubt appeared to suggest that there was no guilt of the actual offence, but that in some way or another the person of whom these words were written desired to appear to be a person guilty of that gravest of all offences. He pointed out that there was no allegation in the pleadings that Mr. Oscar Wilde had been guilty of the offence of which he (counsel) had spoken; but there was a series of accusations, and the names of many persons were mentioned. It was said with regard to these that Mr. Wilde had solicited them to commit with him a grave offence, and that he had been guilty with each and all of them of improper practices. He thought it would occur to the jury as somewhat, strange that whereas these pleadings and the statements which were contained in them referred to a very considerable period of time, one would gather from the pleadings that during all that time Mr. Wilde had been unsuccessfully soliciting these persons. If they were called upon to sustain the charges, these persons would necessarily have to admit much in cross-examination; but he supposed they would not be prepared to admit that they were guilty of the grossest of all offences. Of course,it was for those who had undertaken the grave responsibility of putting in the pleadings of these allegations to satisfy the jury if they could, by witnesses whose evidence they would deem worthy of consideration and entitled to belief, that these charges were true. Counsel next proceeded to refer to the circumstances under which Mr. Wilde became acquainted with Lord A. Douglas in 1891, and pointed out that from that time to the present Mr. Wilde had been the friend not only of Lord Alfred Douglas, but of his brother and mother, Lady Queensberry, who was the wife of the defendant, but who some years ago obtained release from the marriage tie in consequence of the defendent's conduct. It was not until 1894 that Mr. Wilde became aware that certain statements had been made affecting his character, and he became aware of it in this way: There was a man named Wood, whom he had seen once or twice, and who had been given some clothes by Lord A. Douglas. This man said he had found in the pocket of the coat that was given to him four letters which had been written by Mr. Wilde to Lord A. Douglas. Whether Wood had found them in the pocket of the coat or whether he had stolen them was a matter upon which he (counsel) at this moment could only speculate. At all events, there were some letters of Mr. Wilde's which were being handed about, and Wood came to Mr. Wilde early in the year 1894, and told, him that he had these letters, and asked Mr. Wilde to give him something for them. Wood represented himself as being in some distress, and as wanting to go to America. Mr. Wilde gave him £15 or £20 in order to pay his passage to America. Wood handed Mr. Wilde the letters which had been written by him to Lord A. Douglas, but he(counsel) did not think any importance attached to these letters, because, as was generally the case where people thought that they had got letters which were of some importance, those which were of no importance were given up, and the letter which was supposed to be of importance was retained. That was the case in this instance. On Feb. 28 Mr. Wilde called at the Albemarle Club, and was then handed the card, the subject of the libel alleged, contained in an envelope, and in the result a warrant was granted, upon which the Marquis of Queensbury was arrested on Mar. 2. Referring to the plea of justification, it contained references to a certain magazine, and Mr. Wilde was said to be responsible for an article appearing in it of a disgraceful and unworthy character. As a matter of fact, however, Mr. Wilde was not responsible for the article at all. He insisted, as soon as he saw that article, his name appearing on the title-page of the magazine that it should be withdrawn from publication. He had no knowledge that the article had been written or that it was going to appear in the magazine until he saw it in print, and he then expressed his opinion that the literature was bad and unworthy to be published.
Evidence having been given to prove the publication Of the alleged libel by Sidney Wright, the porter of the Albemarle Club, to whom the card was given, Mr. Oscar Wilde was next called, and in his evidence he said that he made the acquaintance of Lord Alfred Douglas in 1891. He was also on friendly terms with Lord Alfred Douglas's brother. Since 1891 he had been in the habit of dining with Lord Alfred Douglas at the Albermarle Club, and had stayed with him at various places. In November, 1892, he met the Marquis of Queensberry at the Café Royal, whilst in the company of Lord Alfred Douglas, and they had luncheon together. He did not see the Marquis again for some time. The witness spoke to a man named Wood calling upon him and producing a certain letter, which he had sent to Lord Alfred Douglas. This man said that the letters had been stolen from him. The witness did not regard the letters as of any importance. He gave the man £15 to get to America. He next had a call from a man named Allen, to whom he said: "I suppose you have come about my beautiful letter to Lord Alfred Douglas. 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." The man said: "It is a very curious construction to put on that letter." He added that a man had offered him £60 for it. The witness said: "If you would take my advice you would go to that man and sell my letter for £60. I have never received so large a sum for any prose work of that length." Other conversation followed, and the man said that he had not a single penny, and was very poor, and witness gave him 10s. He told the man that the letter was a prose poem, which would shortly be published in a dramatic magazine, and he would send him a copy. That letter was the basis of a poem published in French in the "Spirit Lamp" magazine. The Marquis called on him about Lord Alfred Douglas, and witness, referring to a letter, said: "I could have you up at any time for a criminal libel." The Marquis said: "The letter is a privileged one, as it was written to my son." He added: "You were both kicked out of the Savoy Hotel at a moment's notice for your disgusting conduct." He made other statements, and he ordered the Marquis out of his house, saying to his servant: "This is the Marquis of Queensberry, the most infamous brute in London. You are never to allow him to enter my house again, and if he should attempt to come in you must send for the police." There was no truth in the suggestion that he was turned out of the Savoy Hotel. He had nothing whatever to do with the magazine called the Chameleon beyond contributing to it.
Cross-examined by Mr. Carson, Q.C.: He was 40 years of age next birthday; Lord Alfred Douglas was 24 years Of age. Before the interview in Tite-street, between himself and the Marquis, he had hot received a letter from the Marquis protesting against his association with his son, Lord Alfred Douglas. He was aware that the Marquis had made such a protest, but, notwithstanding, he had kept the acquaintance up till the present time, and had stayed with Lord Alfred Douglas at various places, including hotels in London. He had been abroad with him, and recently they were at Monte Carlo. He was of opinion that there was no such thing as an immoral book. Mr. Carson: Do you think the phrase, under the title of "Phrases of Philosophy for the Young," a proper one: "Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the peculiar attractiveness of others"? - I rather think everything I write is true in effect, but not true in the sense of an actual fact in life. So far from the phrases being improper, he thought they were most stimulating. (Laughter.)
Is "Dorian Gray" open to the interpretation of being a disgusting book? - Only to brutes and the illiterate. You cannot ask about the interpretation of my work; it does not concern me. What concerns me is my view and my feeling. I do not care "tuppence" what Philistines think about it.
Is "Dorian Gray" open to the interpretation of being a disgusting book? Only to brutes and the illiterate. You cannot ask about the interpretation of my work. It does not concern me. What concerns me is my view and my feeling. I do not care "tuppence " what the Philistines think about it.
Is "Dorian Gray" open to the interpretation of being a disgusting book? Only to brutes and the illiterate. You cannot ask about the interpretation of my work. It does not concern me. What concerns me is my view and my feeling. I do not care "tupence" what the Phillistines think about it.
Mr. Carson read the description of the artist's feelings on first meeting "Dorian Gray" and in reply to a question, Mr. Wilde said: I
think this is the most perfect description possible of what an artist would feel on meeting a beautiful personality.
You mean a beautiful person? -
Yes; a beautiful young man if you like.
Mr Carson read the description of the artist's feelings on first meeting "Dorian Gray," and in reply to a question, Mr Wilde said—I think this is the most perfect description possible of what an artist would feel on meeting a beautiful personality.
Having read another passage, Mr. Carson asked: Do you mean to say that that describes the natural feeling of one man towards another? - It describes the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.
Having read another passage, Mr Carson asked — Do you mean to say that that describes the National feeling of one man towards another? It describes the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.
Having read another passage, Mr Carson asked—Do you mean to say that that describes the National of one man towards another? It describes the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.
Mr. Carson read a lengthy passage from "Dorian Gray" as originally published. Do you mean to say that that passage describes the natural feeling ot one man towards another ? — It would be the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.
Mr. Carson read a lengthy passage from "Dorian Grey" as originally published. Do you mean to say that that passage describes the mutual feeling of one man towards another? - It would be the influence produced on an artist by a beautiful personality.
The letter you wrote to Lord Alfred Douglas, was it an ordinary letter? - No.
"My own boy"; was that not ordinary? - No.
You
would say, I suppose, that for a man of your age to address a youth of half your years as "My own boy" would be an improper thing? - No, certainly not;
not if he was fond of him. I was fond of Lord Alfred.
Mr. Carson quoted--"And it was marvellous that those red, roseleaf lips of yours should be
made no less for music and song than for the madness of kissing." Was that proper? - My dear sir, you are cross-examining me upon a poem. You might as
well ask me if King Lear or Shakspere's sonnets are improper.
I will read you another letter--
"Savoy Hotel.
"Dearest of all Boys, -- Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, and I am sad and out of sorts.
Boysey, you must not make scenes with me ; they kill me; they wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see you, so Greek and gracious, distorted by passion.
I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. Don't do it It breaks my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want of
grace and genius. But I don't know how to do it. There are many difficulties. My bill here is £49 for the week. My dear, my wonderful boy, I fear I must
leave. No money, no credit, and a heart of lead.--From your own OSCAR."
"Dearest of all boys,—Your letter was delightful, and it was red and yellow wine to me, for I am sadly out of sorts. You must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see you, so Greek and gracious. Distorted by passion, I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. Don't do it. You break my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, a thing of grace and genius, but I do not know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill here is £49 for the week. I have also a new sitting-room over the Thames for you. Why are you not here my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit, aud a heart of lead.—Ever your own, Oscar.
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.
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.
Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C.—Dearest of all boys,—Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysie 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 with passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner—[here a word is indecipherable]—than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and beauty, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter). I have also got a new sitting-room. Why are you not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit.—Your own Oscar.
Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C. — Dearest of all boys, — Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysie 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 with passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner — [here a word is indecipherable] — than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and beauty, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) I have also got a new sitting room. Why are you not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit. — Your own OSCAR.
"Dearest of old boys," read on Sir Frank, "your letter was delightful red and yellow wine for me, but I am sad and out of sorts, Bosey. You must not make scenes with me. They wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see you, Greek and gracious, distorted by passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips say hideous things to me. Don’t do it: you break my heart, and I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius. But I don’t know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties; my bill here is £49"—that I suppose is true? That is, not poetic?—Oh! no, no! (Laughter suppressed.)
Dearest of Old Boys,—Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Poesy, you must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I can see you, so Greek and great, contorted by passion. I cannot see your rosy lips and listen to you; you break my heart. I must see you. You are the divine thing I want—the thing of grace and genius—but I do not know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill is £45 for the week. I have a sitting room over the Fens. But you, where are you, my heart, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear almost to live—no money, no credit, and a heart of lead.—Ever your own Oscar.
Dearest of all boys, - Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Bosey, 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 with passion. I cannot listen to your young lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner - Here a word is indecipherable, but I will ask the witness- than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is £49 for a week. Why is it you are not here, my dear, wonderful boy? I fear I must have no money, no credit. - Your own OSCAR.
"Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C. Dearest of all boys.—Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysey, 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 young curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner"- here a word is undecipherable, but I will ask the witness—"than have you bitter, unjust, hating. You break my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) I have also a new sitting-room over the Thames. Why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear almost to live—no money, no credit, and a heart of lead. Ever your own, OSCAR."
"Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C. Dearest of all boys.—Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysey, 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 young curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner"—here a word is undecipherable, but I will ask the witness—"than have you bitter, unjust, hating. You break my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) I have also a new sitting-room over the Thames. Why is it you are not here my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear almost to live—no money, no credit, and a heart of lead. Ever your own, Oscar."
"Dearest of all boys," read on Sir Frank, "your letter was delightful red and yellow wine for me, but I am sad and out of sorts, Bosey. You must not make scenes with me. They wreck the loveliness of life. I cannot see you, Greek and gracious, distorted by passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips say hideous things to me. Don't do it; you break my heart, and I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius. But I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill here is £40."
"Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C. Dearest of all boys.—Your letter was delightful red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysey, 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 young curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner,"—here a word is undecipherable, but I will ask the witness—"than have you bitter, unjust, hating. You break my heart. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? My bill here is L49 for a week. (Laughter). I have also a new sitting room over the Thames. Why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear almost to live—no money, no credit, and a heart of lead. Ever your own, Oscar."
Then I will :— " Savoy Hotel, Thames Embankment, W.C. — Dearest of all boys, — Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. Boysie 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 with passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner" — here a word is indecipherable, but I will ask the Witness — "than have you bitter, uujust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and beauty, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury. My bill here is 49l. for a week (laughter). I have also got a new sitting-roam. Why are you not here my dear, my wonderful boy ? I fear I must leave. No money, no credit. Your own Oscar." Is that an ordinary letter? — Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary (laughter).
Then I will:—"Savoy Hotel, Thames-embankment, W.O.—Dearest of all boys,— Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me, but I am sad and out of sorts. You must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of like. I cannot see you, so Greek and gracious, distorted with passion. I cannot listen to your young lips saying hideous things to me. I would sooner"—here a word is undecipherable, but I will ask the witness—" than have you bitter, unjust, hating. I must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the thing of grace and genius, but I don't know how to do it. Shall I come to Salisbury? There are many difficulties. My bill here is £49 for a week. (Laughter.) I have also got a new sitting-room. But why is it you are not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? I fear I must leave; no money, no credit, only a heart of lead.—Ever your own Oscar." Is that an ordinary letter?—Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter.)
Was that an extraordinary letter? - I think everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. Ask me anything you like.
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
Mr. Carson—Is that an extraordinary letter? I think everything I write extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. Good heavens—
Is that an ordinary letter? — Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter.)
Is that an ordinary letter? — Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter.)
Is it an ordinary letter? - Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter.)
Don't you call that an extraordinary letter?—Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter)
Don't you call that an extraordinary letter:—Everything I write is extraordinary. I do not pose as being ordinary. (Laughter).
[…]you call that an extraordinary […] Everything I write is extraordinary […] not pose as being ordinary.
In further cross-examination Mr. Wilde admitted having asked an office boy engaged at his publishers, Messrs. Matthews and Lane, to dine with him at the Albermarle Hotel. The boy had whisky and soda. "He had what he liked," said Mr. Wilde.
Witness was asked as to his acquaintance with two other young men.
The hearing was then adjourned until tomorrow, Lord Queensberry being allowed out on bail.
The case was adjourned, the Marquis of Queensberry being allowed bail.