Sunday World - Sunday, May 5, 1895

OSCAR WILDE.
INCIDENTS OF THE TRIAL.
THE JUDGE’S IMPARTIAL SUMMING UP.
THE SCENE WHEN THE JURY DISAGREED.

During the earlier days of his trial Oscar Wilde sat in the dock immovable, his back against the partition, his elbow resting on the front of the dock, his hand now supporting his chin, now gently pulling at his lips. Taylor and he sat at the extreme end of the dock, and never exchanged a word.

Inspector Richards proved the arrest on the evening of April 5, at the Cadogan Hotel. He said, "Mr Wilde, we are police officers, and hold a warrant for your arrest."

"Wilde replied, "Yes, where shall I be taken?"

"To Scotland Yard, and then to Bow street," Richards told him.

"Can I have bail?" asked Wilde.

"No, I don’t think you can," said Richards.

The next day witness went and searched Taylor’s rooms.

Inspector Brockwell proved the granting of the warrant, and Wilde being brought to Scotland Yard. Wilde wished to read the warrant, but was refused, and then asked the dates mentioned and was told them.

Sir Edward Clarke then asked that a letter which was found upon Wilde should be read.

His lordship read it, and said it seemed to amount simply to an expression of sympathy from a literary friend of the defendant’s.

Sir Edward Clarke did not press the point.

The letter was from Mr Robert Buchanan.

During the discussion Wilde amused himself by making a fancy pen-and-ink sketch with a quill, but apparently dissatisfied with it on completion, tore it up.

The documents found in Taylor’s hat-box were then put in and read—a note from Wood in America, a few returned cheques, and some telegrams to Taylor: "Could you call at six o’clock? Oscar. Savoy." "Cannot manage dinner tomorrow. Oscar." "Obliged to see Tree. cannot come. What about the friend? Oscar." Also a New Year’s card from Mavor.

Always a bob in your pocket to spend.
Always a bob to lend to a friend.
Wishing you these I add one wish more.
A happy and prosperous ‘94.

Sidney Mavor.

Then a discussion took place as to whether Wilde’s evidence at the former trial should be put in and read, and finally Mr Gill proposed to read the whole of the cross-examination. At this prospect of hearing his verbal brilliancies sparkle in court once more, Wilde woke up and composed himself in a listening and critical attitude.

Mr Gill commenced the reading, but was too rapid for effect, and Wilde seemed almost as disappointed at the reading of the evidence as previously he had been at Mr Carson’s rendering of his letter. The points came out blurred, and there was missing the sharp contrast between Mr Carson’s impetuous brogue, and the cool, long drawn-out syllables of Wilde’s evidence, as it was given in the Queensberry trial. Shelley, "the intellectual youth from Vigo street," was sitting at the side of the court, and listened with rapt attention, breaking out now and then into a pleased smile. Through all the brilliant fencing of the "Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young," Mr Gill read on steadily, and as steadily worked through the cross-examination on "Dorian Gray," Wilde listening intently.

As Mr Gill read on, Mr Mathews reached up to the dock and handed Wilde a letter, which he read carefully, and prepared to write an answer.

On Tuesday morning, a surprise awaited the court. A crowded audience assembled to heal Sir Edward Clarke’s speech for the defence, and it was assumed that the case would finish late in the evening. No one anticipated that a change of affairs would come.

At half-past ten Mr Justice Charles resumed his seat. Wilde and Taylor were again placed in the dock. Mr Grain had a hurried consultation with his client, Taylor. Mr Chas Mathews, Wilde’s junior counsel, was speaking with his client at the rear of the dock. Mr Gill, the counsel for the Crown, rose at once, and it was thought that he was about to commence his speech for the prosecution. But it was to make a very remarkable and most important announcement.

In a hush reigning throughout the court, Mr Gill announced that, having had an opportunity of considering the indictments since the closing of the case, he, and those who were with him, had come to the determination not to ask for a verdict upon the counts as to conspiracy. Practically he withdrew the charges of conspiracy, and the opinion in court was that this was so as to meet the move of Sir Edward Clarke in putting in a formal demurrer which would have taken the case to the High Courts in consequence of what he considered was the error of trying the two defendants and the two indictments together. The surprise created was very great.

Sir Edward Clarke, looking very grave, said that had he known such an event had been likely he should have applied that the prisoners should have been tried separately.

The judge made a significant remark. After the evidence had been given it had occurred to him that the counts for conspiracy were unnecessary altogether.

Mr Gill—That was the conclusion, my lord, we had arrived at. My friend has said something about trying separately. But Taylor is charged with procuring, and that is a joint charge.

Sir Edward Grasped at once his advantage. Then I understand, he said, that my friend withdraws those counts because there is no evidence in support of them to go to the jury.

Mr Gill, however, would not admit that that was actually the position. He had taken the course so as to remove any difficulty which prevented either of the prisoners from giving evidence in their own defence.

Sir Edward followed up his advantage, and asked that the verdict of "Not guilty" upon those counts should be taken at once.

The judge hesitated as if in thought, but in the end said he could not assent to that.

At any rate I am entitled to that verdict at some time, replied Sir Edward.

All the judge felt it his duty at that moment to do was to accede to Mr Gill’s withdrawal.

Sir Edward once more said that he should at some time appeal for that verdict.

Are you going to say any more, Sir Edward? Asked the judge, and then came the next surprise, one which created a great sensation, and entirely altered the position of the trial as it stood the previous night.

"Yes, my lord," said Sir Edward, "I am going to address the jury."

The meaning was seen at once. The defendants were to be called for the defence.

Sir Edward soon made it quite clear. He at once commenced his address: not the speech which had been looked forward to; that was to come later: this was only the opening of his defence. Yet, all the same, it was a magnificent speech. He began by referring to the withdrawal of the charges of conspiracy, which he thought was one of the most remarkable acts in a very remarkable trial. If they had not been intended to have been proceeded with they ought never to have been put in the indictment. He would call Mr Wilde as a witness, but that decision had not been arrived at in consequence of what had just been said on the opposite side, though that had greatly strengthened his intention. He had felt [...] in justice to Mr Wilde to have required that certain other parts, the examination-in-chief, of the evidence read yesterday should have been read, and it then occurred to him that if Mr Wilde’s statement upon oath, when the jury came to deal with the case, were made to them from his own lips, it would be better than asking them to rely upon the evidence in the former trial.

Sir Edward was very brief, though eloquent.

Mr Wilde was called from the dock to the witness-box. How different he looked there from what he did just four weeks ago! There was something in his appearance, his pathetic and woful hollowness and weariness, that made a much deeper impression than that of four weeks previously. After going through his distinguished college career he gave an emphatic denial to the accusations laid against him.

You had rooms in St James's place? Yes; they were taken for literary work. I did not often sleep there. My house at home was very small, and I found it always most convenient to do my work outside my own house, so that I might not be disturbed, and it was entirely and solely for that purpose that I took the St James’s place rooms.

The evidence you gave in the Queensberry case was true evidence? Entirely true evidence.

You have heard the evidence in this case; is there any truth in any one of the allegations of indecent conduct made against you? There is no truth whatsoever; no truth whatsoever in any one of those allegations.

Sir Edward asked no more.

Mr Gill began the cross-examination, and intense excitement pervaded the court. "Dorian Gray" was the first subject, and the two poems which Lord Alfred Douglas wrote in the "Chameleon." As to the title "In praise of shame," he replied that it was not for him to explain another writer’s words, but that word "shame" was used in the sense of "modesty," that is in the sense that we say, "We are ashamed to do a thing."

As to the line, "The love that dare not speak its name," Mr Wilde made quite a long explanation, and the result was astonishing. It completely took hold of the body of the people in the court, and the applause at the end was loud and vehement. That love, said Mr Wilde, had most certainly no reference to an unnatural love. It is that great affection between a mature man and a younger man, such as that between David and Jonathan, and formed the basis of Plato’s great work. It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect, which has formed the motive of great works, the sonnets of Shakespeare, and of Michael Angelo, and of my own two letters which you have handed up to me—the affection which is so misunderstood in this century—an affection which certainly has nothing unnatural about it, but is beautiful, intellectual, and natural. The applause was loud and long. Mr Justice Charles did not like it. Three times he said he would have the court cleared were there such manifestations of feeling.

When the crowd gathered in the Old Bailey for the last time on Wednesday, the role question among them was as to what the judge’s summing up would be and what the verdict of the jury. Mr Justice Charles is known as an exceedingly exact man, a judge of almost singular punctiliousness, and it is very rarely indeed that he takes, as many judges do, any "view" of the case he has to try. In avoiding that his habit is to go minutely into the whole of the evidence—so minutely sometimes that in the end it often stands before the jury a maze of greater confusion even than before. The tone which it was anticipated he would take was, therefore, almost well known to those who have sat frequently beneath him. But the verdict of the jury was a point upon which there was the greatest possible division of opinion. The strongest feeling existed on behalf of Wilde. There was, beyond all doubt, among those who had sat throughout the trial a deep revulsion of feeling.

Mr Justice Charles was on that morning for the first time during the trial a few minutes late. So punctual had he been all through that the few minutes attracted attention. About 25 minutes to eleven his lordship entered the court, accompanied by two aldermen, robed in scarlet and deep fur gowns. At once Wilde and Taylor were put into the dock, and took again their chairs and their easy positions. Wilde was looking better. Taylor for the first time did not come up smiling.

THE SUMMING UP.

Almost immediately the judge began his summing up. He commenced by reciting the charges of the indictment, and said at once that as to those referring to conspiracy and as to one other which he would mention later against Taylor, he would direct the jury to return a verdict of Not Guilty. Then he appealed to the jury to apply their minds to the evidence that had been placed before them. It had been for some time past impossible to open a newspaper without seeing some remark of another hearing upon the case. But he hoped that no one of them had any preconceived opinion, and he felt that he should not ask in vain for them to cast away from them anything they had read or heard before going into the jury box. It was always of great importance in every case that nothing should arise in their minds except

THE ACTUAL EVIDENCE

before them. It was even more so in this case. One of the prisoners—both of them, in fact—were men of education: one of them was a man of high intellectual gifts.

For more than 200 years it had been the wholesome practice of English justice that no man could be convicted upon the uncorroborated testimony of an accomplice. It was a most wise rule. How great the wrongs might be that could be done were a man at the mercy of those who declared they were accomplices! If there had been no corroboration in this case of the evidence of those young men who had been in the witness-box, it would have been his duty at once to direct the jury to give a verdict of acquittal upon all the counts. There was, however, some corroboration. He would show what later. He would only at that moment remark further as to the young men or, at least, three of them, Parker, Wood, and Atkins, that they had not only been accomplices, but had been rightly described by Sir Edward Clarke as blackmailers, and Atkins had been proved out of his own mouth to have told most corrupt untruths. Moreover, the jury would see that those young men were of such character as they had admitted themselves to be.

His lordship then at once turned to the

HISTORY OF THE PROSECUTION,

and, with deep emphasis, reminded the jury that the verdict is the Queensberry trial was nothing whatever to them, and they were not to allow themselves to be influenced by it in any way at all. Then as to the literature part of the case.

Here his lordship used phrases that will become historic. Leaning back in his seat, a soft smile diffusing his face as he gazed upon the jurymen, seemingly endeavouring to make them feel as he felt, he briefly told the story of "Dorian Grey." Then: "You are asked to pass an unfavourable inference upon the fact that Wilde is the author of ‘Dorian Gray.’ But you were told yesterday that a great author has said, ‘Judge no man by his books.’ I would rather say, "Judge no man by, or confound no man with, the persons he has created." He

QUOTED SCOTT AND DICKENS

as men who had not written, so far as knew, one single unwholesome line. "But," he added, and there was his point, "there are great writers, especially in the 18th century, very great writers, perfectly high-minded and unexceptional men in themselves, yet who have allowed themselves to pen volumes which it is painful for any person of ordinary modesty to read."

AS TO THE APHORISMS.

the "Phrases and Philosophies for the Young." printed in the "Chameleon," and upon which they were also asked to draw an unfavourable inference—what were they? Some of them were amusing, some were cynical, and, if he might be allowed to say, some of them were silly. But wicked—wicked in the sense of hearing the inference that Wilde was capable of having committed the crimes into which they were inquiring—they certainly were not.

His lordship turned from the aphorisms to the story of the "Priest and the Acolyte," which appeared in the "Chameleon," and it was, said his lordship a most disgusting and revolting work. But it was not the work of Wilde. And if one was not the judge a man by his own writings, to judge him by the writings of another would be absurd.

Then the sonnets of Lord Alfred Douglas in that same publication. They were asked to consider that those sonnets were indecent, immoral, and of unnatural tendency, and they were asked to believe that Wilde approved of them in that sense. What did Wilde say of them? They had [...] He had explained that the word "shame" used for those [...] meant modesty. "We know that modesty, we know [...] of the same word shame," said the Judge, again leaning back, and smiling at the jury. "We know that our first parents felt it in the Garden of Eden." The jury would, however, have to use their own judgment.

THE LETTERS—

Wilde’s two letters to Lord Alfred Douglas. They were asked to regard them as of a horrible, shocking, and indecent character. Again, however, what did Wilde say of them? The jury would remember the description the prisoner gave yesterday. He had no sense of shame in them, he said, and told them that the affection he described was possible between one man and another, an honest, pure affection, without any notion of anything unnatural or of physical affection whatever. There, again, it would be for the jury to use their discretion. They would, however, remember that the letter which was regarded as the worst of the two had been produced by Mr Wilde himself.

The literature disposed of, his lordship turned to

THE EVIDENCE

of the witnesses, and began with Shelley. There was the crucial point, and the words of the judge upon it were listened to with a deep hush, even an anxiety. It was, indeed, commenced his lordship, an anxious task the jury had in dealing with the case in regard to the testimony of this young man. He thought, however, that he should direct their attention to the demeanour of the witness when called into the box. He was in a most excited state, and, in the judge’s opinion, rather indicated that what he declared to have taken place all took place against his will. But yet that could hardly be the case, having regard to what followed, for on the next night he went back to the hotel to supper, and continued to go about with Wilde in a very friendly manner.

The whole of Shelley’s letters to Wilde were read through. Then came the phrase, "Let God judge the past," that Mr Gill had made so much of. The jury would have, said the judge, to attach to it what importance they thought it called for. In his opinion, the letter was that of a person

IN AN EXCITED CONDITION.

to say the least. In all the letters, however, there was much which did not support the story which Shelley told. Mr Gill, at the same time, had asked why Shelley should go into the box and say what was not true? Did he do so because the condition of his mind was disordered? Yet disordered in the sense that the youth did not know what he was saying, his mind was not. It was a terrible responsibility to have to determine whether his testimony could be relied on or whether it could not. There his lordship stopped, expressing no opinion of his own whatever, hardly even hinting or shadowing one forth.

THE STORY TOLD BY ATKINS

of his visit to Paris and getting his hair curled was next dealt with. Speaking of the Moulin Rouge, his lordship gave an amusing illustration of judicial ignorance. His lordship has no personal knowledge of the place of entertainment. "I gather," said he, "from what was said, that the Moulin Rouge is a place where had women congregate." But so intent was everyone on the gravity of the issue that was shortly to come to settlement that not even a smile was allowed to acknowledge the judge’s ingenuous declaration of innocence.

Throughout the summing-up as to Shelley Wilde kept his eyes upon the judge, and seemed to be drinking in every word with nervous anxiety. But when Atkins was being referred to he grew indifferent, and amused himself sketching caricatures upon the sheet of foolscap before him.

His lordship called Atkins a "reckless" witness, a wonderfully mild term, to say the least, and as illustration of the marked colourlessness with which Mr Justice Charles spoke. He went at great length into the denials this youth gave with eagerness, and of how subsequently he was made to admit that he was taken to Rochester-row Police-station. But in making that admission Atkins even told a lie. He said that he was charged with "hitting a man at the card table." The record at the station showed that the charges was nothing of the sort, but was a most gross act of blackmailing. In contrasting Atkins’s story with Wilde’[s there could be little doubt that Wilde’s was the true one.

Then came the next most serious portion of the case of prosecution, the evidence from the Savoy. That evidence, said his lordship, again gave rise to a most serious question. Cotter, the chambermaid, swore that upon one occasion she did see a dark, sallow boy in Wilde’s bed. Wilde swore that there never was any boy in his bed at the hotel. It was certainly an extraordinary thing that with that boy there Wilde should have rung this woman up to light the fire. The housekeeper was called to confirm part of the chambermaid’s story. "I really, gentlemen, cannot assist you," said the judge. "You must make up your own minds." As to what Migge had said as to his also having seen a boy in Wilde’s bed, they likewise would have to judge for themselves whether the man told them the truth. If he did do so, and Cotter too, spoke truly, then Wilde’s evidence was not true, and

IT WAS OF VAST IMPORTANCE

for the jury to make up their minds. It was right that he should say there was nothing against those two people as there was against some of the other witnesses, and the question was, Did they come to the court as the witnesses of truth, or had they made a mistake? There again his lordship gave no hint of his own opinion.

To Wood his lordship gave considerable time—indeed more than was taken up with the Savoy stories. Again contrasting the evidence—Wood’s this time with Wilde’s—the judge pointed out that the jury would have to decide which of the stories was the true one. One thing however, was certain—Wood was a levier of blackmail. It was beyond all doubt, for he himself had admitted it.

In analysing the testimony of Charles Parker, Taylor came in for attention—the too-artistic arrangement of his College street rooms, the number of his young men visitors, and his frequent tea-parties at which there never were lady guests, but at which Wilde was often present. In judging between Parker’s allegations and the denials of the prisoners it was necessary to remember that Charles Parker was also a young man who

ENTERTAINED MANY YOUNG MEN.

Indeed, it was quite true, what Sir Edward Clarke had pointed out, that the three young men upon whom main reliance was placed were all affected in the same way. But there was nothing to show that William Parker was so tainted, and his evidence was of great importance, as it confirmed his brother’s, which was tainted. In dealing with the credibility of the evidence on one side as against the other, confirmation of one witness by another was of the utmost importance. Charles Parker’s story as to what happened at the dinner was confirmed by William Parker. His story that Wilde visited him at Park place was corroborated by the woman Bancroft.

Into the evidence his lordship did not go at any length, dismissing it by saying that it proved no act of indency. Then came

THE PERORATION.

"I have had to sum this case up to you with some minuteness, because of its importance to the community and its gravity to the accused. It is important that if they thought the practices were proved that they fearlessly say so. But, on the other hand, it was of vast importance that people should not be convicted of acts which they have not committed. Wilde has the right to ask you to remember that he is a man of high intellectual gifts, a man whom one would suppose was incapable of such acts. So is Taylor. He belongs to a class of people of whom it is difficult to suppose they would be guilty of these practices. But still you must deal with the evidence fearlessly, remembering the two defendants’ position on the one hand and your duty to the public on the other. If you feel you ought not to act on the evidence of these witnesses, why, say so, and acquit Wilde of the charge of committing these shocking acts, acquit Taylor of the charge of committing them, and of the charge of procuring their committal. But if you feel constrained to believe the evidence, then you must return the verdict which it is your painful duty to return. Gentlemen,

I SHALL ASK YOU

whether you find that

(1) Wilde has committed acts of indecency with Shelley, whether with Wood, whether with person or persons unknown at the Savoy Hotel, whether with Charles Parker,

I shall as you (2) whether you find that Taylor procured, or attempted to procure, these acts, or any of them, and whether

(3) Wilde and Taylor, or either of them, attempted to incite Atkins to commit indecencies, and whether

(4) Taylor committed indecent acts with Charles Parker or William Parker.

THE JURY RETIRE.

The [...] interval had been reached when the summing up was [...] The jury asked to retire, and after the [...] ceremony of swearing in the official half [...] half [...] who looks after them, the judge left the bench and retired to his room. The prisoners were taken below, but hardly any one else left the [...] The general belief seemed to be "a quarter of an hour will decide it." Those who had been far-sighted enough to [...] themselves brought out parcels of sandwiches. Everyone praised the summing-up and discussed the verdict; there was a buzz, almost a din of conversation. One thing was noticed about the summing-up; the learned judge had never formally told the jury that any doubt in their minds must be resolved in favour of the prisoners.

Below sat the prisoners. When they were taken down to the cells, on the retirement of the jury, it was the usual lunch hour, and their lunch was really. They hurried over it. The time seemed to pass slowly, and no news came.

For a long time no one in the court below budged. The air was thick, and when the gas jets were lit to lighten the darkness of an approaching storm, it grew worse. Still no one stirred out of court, but just struggled to and fro, talking, estimating chances, anticipating results. The bar went out to lunch in detachments in the Old Bailey messroom, and an hour went by. Then a note came from the jury; were they coming back? An instant restle, and strained attention everywhere for a few brief moments, then almost a groan of disappointment. The jury wanted their lunch. They had it, and once more the court waited. The newspapers came into court with the printed account of the summing-up, but still the jury were away. The winner of the Two Thousand created some slight excitement, which lasted but for a few minutes, however, and once more the court fell to weary waiting. The atmosphere of the court grew stifling in spite of the open windows, for the customary half-hour of fresh air at the luncheon interval had been missing, and the crowd had been great all day.

Three o’clock, four o’clock, five o’clock went by. Waiting by now had become mechanical.

At last, noon after five, the judge sent for the Clerk of Arraigns, who conveyed a message to the jury. The message having been replied to, and the reply having been answered, the jury came back into court at 5 13. The prisoners were put into the dock, and stood up, Wilde with his hand on the dock rail, as if about to address the court. Anxiety and suspense had told their tale, and in the first moment as he stood moistening his parched lips, he looked more haggard and troubled than ever before. Then he recovered his self-possession. Taylor still wore his set, artificial smile.

The jury were at once asked if they had been able to agree upon their verdict. They had not; except upon the count charging the two prisoners with procuring Atkins, on which they were prepared to return a verdict of Not Guilty, they were hopelessly disagreed.

His lordship was unwilling to do anything which should look like compelling a jury to deliver a verdict, but the inconveniences of another trial were great. Was there any prospect of their agreeing? None, said the foreman, absolutely none.

Then they were discharged, but not before they had formally returned a verdict of Not Guilty on the conspiracy counts, and on the counts relating to Mavor and Wood.

Sir Edward Clarke applied for bail, and Mr Gill had no objection to offer, but Mr Justice Charles did not feel able to accede to the request. Any further application must be made to a Judge in Chambers.

It was arranged that the new trial should be taken next sessions, and then the two prisoners were taken once more below, Wilde with a heavy look of resignation, Taylor with his air of smiling unconcern.