The Trial of Oscar Wilde. (continued 2)

Evidence with regard to Wilde’s rooms at St. James’ Place was given by Thomas Price, who was able to identify Taylor as one of the callers.

Mrs. Gray—no relation, haply, to the notorious “Dorian”—of 3 Chapel Street, Chelsea, deposed that Taylor stayed at her house from August 1893 to the end of that year. Formal and minor items of evidence concluded the case for the prosecution of Taylor, and Mr. Grain proceeded to open his defence by calling the prisoner into the witness-box. Mr. Grain examined him.

Mr. Grain.—“What is your age?”

Witness.—“I am thirty-three.”

Mr. Grain.—“You are the son of the late Henry Taylor, who was a manufacturer of an article of food in large demand?”

Witness.—“I am.”

Mr. Grain.—“You were at Marlborough School?”

Witness.—“Till I was seventeen.”

Mr. Grain.—“You inherited £45,000 I believe?”

Witness.—“Yes.”

Mr. Grain.—“And spent it?”

Witness.—“It went.”

Mr. Grain.—“Since then you have had no occupation?”

Witness.—“I have lived upon an allowance made me.”

Mr. Grain.—“Is there any truth in the evidence of Charles Parker that you misconducted yourself with him.”

Witness.—“Not the slightest.”

Mr. Grain.—“What rooms had you at Little College Street?”

Witness.—“One bedroom, but it was sub-divided and I believe there was generally a bed in each division.”

Mr. Grain.—“You had a good many visitors?”

Witness.—“Oh, yes.”

Sir Frank Lockwood.—“Did Charles Mavor stay with you then?”

Witness.—“Yes, about a week.”

Sir Frank.—“When?”

Witness.—“When I first went there, in 1892.”

Sir Frank.—“What is his age?”

Witness.—“He is now 26 or 27.”

Sir Frank.—“Do you remember going through a form of marriage with Mavor?”

Witness.—“No, never.”

Sir Frank.—“Did you tell Parker you did?”

Witness.—“Nothing of the kind.”

Sir Frank.—“Did you not place a wedding-ring on his finger and go to bed with him that night as though he were your lawful wife?”

Witness.—“It is all false. I deny it all.”

Sir Frank.—“Did you ever sleep with Mavor?”

Witness.—“I think I did the first night—after, he had a separate bed.”

Sir Frank.—“Did you induce Mavor to attire himself as a woman?”

Witness.—“Certainly I did not.”

Sir Frank.—“But there were articles of women’s dress at your rooms?”

Witness.—“No. There was a fancy dress for a female, a theatrical costume.”

Sir Frank.—“Was it made for a woman?”

Witness.—“I think so.”

Sir Frank.—“Perhaps you wore it?”

Witness.—“I put it on once by way of a lark.”

Sir Frank.—“On no other occasion?”

Witness.—“I wore it once, too, at a fancy dress ball.”

Sir Frank.—“I suggest that you often dressed as a woman?”

Witness.—“No.”

Sir Frank.—“You wore, and caused Mavor afterwards, to wear lace drawers—a woman’s garment—with the dress?”

Witness.—“I wore knicker-bockers and stockings when I wore it at the fancy dress ball.”

Sir Frank.—“And a woman’s wig, which afterwards did for Mavor?”

Witness.—“No, the wig was made for me. I was going to a fancy-ball as ‘Dick Whittington’.”

Sir Frank.—“Who introduced you to the Parkers?”

Witness.—“A friend named Harrington at the St. James’s Restaurant.”

Sir Frank.—“You invited them to your rooms?”

Witness.—“I did.”

Sir Frank.—“Why?”

Witness.—“I found them very nice.”

Sir Frank.—“You were acquainted with a young fellow named Mason?”

Witness.—“Yes.”

Sir Frank.—“He visited you?”

Witness.—“Two or three times only, I think.”

Sir Frank.—“Did you induce him to commit a filthy act with you?”

Witness.—“Never.”

Sir Frank.—“He has written you letters?”

Witness.—“That’s very likely.”

Sir Frank.—“The Solicitor General proposes to read one.”

The letter was as follows:—

“Dear Alf,

Let me have some money as soon as you can. I would not ask you for it if I could get any myself. You know the business is not so easy. There is a lot of trouble attached to it.

Come home soon, dear, and let us go out together sometimes. Have very little news. Going to a dinner on Monday and a theatre to-night.

With much love, Yours always, Charles.”

The Solicitor General.—(Severely) “I ask you, Taylor, for an explanation, for it requires one, of the use of the words “come home soon, dear”, as between two men.”

Taylor.—(Laughing nervously) “I do not see anything in it.”

The Solicitor General.—“Nothing in it?”

Witness.—“Well, I am not responsible for the expressions of another.”

The Solicitor General.—“You allowed yourself to be addressed in this strain?”

Witness.—“It’s the way you read it.”

The summing-up followed and after a consultation of three-quarters of an hour, the jury returned a verdict against Taylor on the indecency counts, not agreeing, however, as to the charges of procuration. Sentence was postponed, pending the result of the trial of Oscar Wilde, which began next day.

Wilde had meanwhile been at large on bail. The one charge of “conspiring with Alfred Taylor to procure” had been dropped, and the indictment of misdemeanour alleged that the prisoner unlawfully committed various acts with Charles Parker, Alfred Wood, Edward Shelley, and certain persons unknown.

The plea of “Not Guilty” was recorded.

The case for the prosecution was opened by calling Edward Shelley, the young man who had been employed by the Vigo Street publishers. Shelley repeated the story of the beginning and the progress of his intimacy with Wilde. It began, he said, in 1891; in March 1893, they quarrelled. The witness had been subjected by the prisoner to attempts at improper conduct. Oscar had, to be plain, on several occasions, placed his hand on the private parts of the witness and sought to put his, witness’s, hand in the same indelicate position as regards Wilde’s own person. Witness resented these acts at the time; had told Wilde not to be ‘a beast’, and the latter expressed his sorrow. “But I am so fond of you, Edward,” he had said.

The Witness wrote Wilde that he would not see him again. He spoke in the letter of these and other acts of impropriety and made use of the expression, “I was entrapped.” Witness explained to the court, “He knew I admired him very much and he took advantage of me—of my admiration and—well, I won’t say innocence. I don’t know what to call it.”

These are some of the letters which Shelley wrote to Wilde:

October 27, 1892.

Oscar: Will you be at home on Sunday evening next? I am most anxious to see you. I would have called this evening, but I am suffering from nervousness, the result of insomnia and am obliged to remain at home.

I have longed to see you all through the week. I have much to tell you. Do not think me forgetful in not coming before, because I shall never forget your kindness, and am conscious that I can never sufficiently express my thankfulness.

Another letter ran:

October 25, 1894.

Oscar: I want to go away and rest somewhere—I think in Cornwall for two weeks. I am determined to live a truly Christian life, and I accept poverty as part of my religion, but I must have health. I have so much to do for my mother.

Sir Edward Clarke.—“Now, Mr. Shelley, do you mean to tell the jury that having in your mind, that this man had behaved disgracefully towards you, you wrote that letter of October 27, 1892?”

Witness.—“Yes. Because after those few occurrences he treated me very well. He seemed really sorry for what he had done.”

Sir Edward.—“He introduced you to his home?”

Witness.—“Yes, to his wife. I dined with them and he seemed to take a real interest in me.”

Sir Edward.—“You have met Lord Alfred Douglas?”

Witness.—“Yes, at his rooms at the ‘Varsity’.”

Sir Edward.—“He was kind to you?”

Witness.—“Yes. He gave me a suit of clothes while I was there.”

Sir Edward.—“And you found two letters in one of the pockets?”

Witness.—“Yes.”

Sir Edward.—“Who from?”

Witness.—“From Mr. Wilde to Lord Alfred.”

Sir Edward.—“How did they begin?”

Witness.—“One was addressed, “Dear Alfred”, and the other to “Dear Bogie.”

Solicitor-General.—“When did you first meet Lord Alfred?”

Witness.—“At Taylor’s rooms in Little College Street.”

Solicitor-General.—“Then you visited him at the University?”

Witness.—“Yes.”

The Solicitor-General then proceeded to ask the witness as to the terms upon which Wilde and Lord Alfred appeared to be; but this has been a prohibited topic from first to last and was now successfully objected to.

Charles Parker was called and he repeated his evidence at great length, relating the most disgusting facts in a perfectly serene manner. He said that Wilde invariably began his “campaign”—before arriving at the final nameless act—with indecencies. He used to require the witness to do what is vulgarly known as “tossing him off”, explained Parker quite unabashed, “and he would often do the same to me. He suggested two or three times that I should permit him to insert “it” in my mouth, but I never allowed that.” He gave other details equally shocking.

A few other witnesses were examined, and the rest of the day having been spent in the reading over of the evidence, Sir Edward Clarke submitted that in respect of certain counts of the indictment there was no evidence to go to the jury.

The Solicitor-General submitted that there was ample evidence to go to the jury, who alone could decide as to whether or not it was worthy of belief.

The Judge said he thought the point in respect to the Savoy Hotel incident was just on the line, but he thought that the wiser and safer course was to allow the count in respect of this matter to go to the jury. At the same time, he felt justified, if the occasion should arise, in reserving the point for the Court of Appeal. He was inclined to think it was a matter, the responsibility of deciding which, rested with the jury.

Sir Edward Clarke submitted next that there was no corroboration of the evidence of this witness. The letters of Shelley pointed to the inference that the latter might have been the victim of delusions, and, judging from his conduct in the witness-box, he appeared to have a peculiar sort of exaltation in and for himself.

The Solicitor-General maintained that Shelley’s evidence was corroborated as far as it could possibly be. Of course, in a case of this kind there was an enormous difficulty in producing corroboration of eye-witnesses to the actual commission of the alleged act.

The judge held that Shelley must be treated on the footing of an accomplice. He adhered, after a most careful consideration of the point, to his former view, that there was no corroboration of the nature required by the Act to warrant conviction, and therefore he felt justified in withdrawing that count from the jury.

Sir Edward Clarke made the same submission in the case of Wood.

The Solicitor General protested against any decision being given on these questions other than by a verdict of the jury. In his opinion the case of the man Wood could not be withheld from the jury. He submitted that there was every element of strong corroboration of Wood’s story, having regard especially to the strange and suspicious circumstances under which Wilde and Wood became acquainted.

Sir Edward Clarke quoted from the summing-up of Mr. Justice Charles on the last trial relative to the directions which he gave the jury in the law respecting the corroboration of the evidence of an accomplice.

The judge was of opinion that the count affecting Wood ought to go to the jury, and he gave reasons why it ought not to be withheld.

Sir Edward Clarke after a private passage of arms with the Solicitor-General in respect to the need for corroborative evidence, then began a brief, but able appeal to the jury on behalf of his client, after which Wilde entered the witness-box. He formally denied the allegations against him. Sir Frank Lockwood, in cross-examination: “Now, Mr. Wilde, I should like you to tell me where Lord A. Douglas is now?”

Witness.—“He is in Paris, at the Hotel des Deux Mondes.”

Sir Frank.—“How long has he been there?”

Witness.—“Three weeks.”

Sir Frank.—“Have you been in communication with him?”

Witness.—“Certainly. These charges are founded on sand. Our friendship is founded on a rock. There has been no need to cancel our acquaintance.”

Sir Frank.—“Was Lord Alfred in London at the time of the trial of the Marquis of Queensberry?”

Witness.—“Yes, for about three weeks. He went abroad at my request before the first trial on these counts came on.”

Sir Frank.—“May we take it that the two letters from you to him were samples of the kind you wrote him?”

Witness.—“No. They were exceptional letters born of the two exceptional letters he sent to me. It is possible, I assure you, to express poetry in prose.”

Sir Frank.—“I will read one of these prose-poem letters. Do you think this line is decent, addressed to a young man? “Your rose-red lips which are made for the music of song and the madness of kissing.”

Witness.—“It was like a sonnet of Shakespeare. It was a fantastic, extravagant way of writing to a young man. It does not seem to be a question of whether it is proper or not.”

Sir Frank.—“I used the word decent.”

Witness.—“Decent, oh yes.”

Sir Frank.—“Do you think you understand the word, Sir?”

Witness.—“I do not see anything indecent in it, it was an attempt to address in beautiful phraseology a young man who had much culture and charm.”

Sir Frank.—“How many times have you been in the College Street ‘snuggery’ of the man Taylor?”

Witness.—“I do not think more than five or six times.”

Sir Frank.—“Who did you meet there?”

Witness.—“Sidney Mavor and Schwabe—I cannot remember any others. I have not been there since I met Wood there.”

Sir Frank.—“With regard to the Savoy Hotel Witnesses?”

Witness.—“Their evidence is quite untrue.”

Sir Frank.—“You deny that the bed-linen was marked in the way described?”

Witness.—“I do not examine bed-linen when I arise. I am not a housemaid.”

Sir Frank.—“Were the stains there, Sir?”

Witness.—“If they were there, they were not caused in the way the Prosecution most filthily suggests.”

Sir Edward Clarke, after a slight “breeze” with the Solicitor-General as to the right to the last word to the jury, then addressed that devoted band of men for the third time, and asked for the acquittal of his client on all the counts.

Sir Frank Lockwood also addressed the jury and the Court then adjoined.

Next day the Solicitor-General, resuming his speech on behalf of the Crown dealt in details with the arguments of Sir E. Clarke in defence of Wilde, and commented in strong terms on observations that he made respecting the lofty situation of Wilde, with his literary accomplishments, for the purpose of influencing the judgment of the young. He said that the jury ought to discard absolutely any such appeal, to apply simply 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 learned Solicitor-General was alluding to incidents connected with another trial. The Solicitor-General maintained that he was strictly within his rights, and the Judge held that the latter was entitled to make the comments objected to. “My learned friend does not appear to have gained a great deal by his superfluity of interruption”, remarked the Solicitor-General suavely, and the Court laughed loudly. The Judge said that this sort of thing was most offensive to him. It was painful enough to have to try such a case and keep the scales of justice evenly balanced without the Court being pestered with meaningless laughter and applause. If such conduct were repeated he would have the Court cleared.

The Solicitor-General then 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 accused 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 comment more than he could help about Lord Alfred Douglas or the Marquis of Queensberry, but the whole of this lamentable enquiry arose through the defendant’s association with Lord A. Douglas.

He did not think that the action of the Marquis 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 the testimony of the witnesses and whether it was worthy of belief.

The letters written by the accused to Lord A. 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 person which Society was pestered with, and the jury ought not to believe his story unless 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 at this stage, asked whether a warrant had been issued for the arrest of Lord Alfred Douglas and if not, whether it was intended to issue one.

The Judge said he could not tell, but he thought not. It was a matter they could not now discuss. The granting of a warrant depended not upon the inferences to be drawn from the letters referred to in the case, but on the production of evidence of specific acts. There was a disadvantage in speculating on this question. They must deal with the evidence before them and with that alone. The foreman said, “If we are to deduce from the letters it applies to Lord Alfred Douglas equally as to the defendant.”

The Judge.—“In regard to the question as to the absence of Lord A. Douglas, I warn you not to be influenced by any consideration of the kind. All that they knew was that Lord A. Douglas went to Paris shortly after the last trial and had remained there since. He felt sure that if the circumstances justified it, the necessary proceedings could be taken.”

His lordship dealt with each of the charges, and the evidence in support of them, and he then, after thanking the jury for the patient manner in which they had attended to the case, left the issues in their hands.

The jury retired to consider their verdict at half past three o’clock and at half past five they returned into Court.

THE VERDICT

Amidst breathless excitement, the Foreman, in answer to the usual formal questions, announced the verdict, “Guilty.”

Sir Edward Clarke.—“I apply, my lord, for a postponement of sentence.”

The Judge.—“I must certainly refuse that request. I can only characterise the offences as the worst that have ever come under my notice. I have, however, no wish to add to the pain that must be felt by the defendants. I sentence both Wilde and Taylor to two years imprisonment with hard labour.”

The sentence was met with some cries of “shame”, “a scandalous verdict”, “unjust,” by certain persons in Court. The two prisoners appeared dazed and Wilde especially seemed ready to faint as he was hurried out of sight to the cells.

Thus perished by his own act a man who might have made a lasting mark in British Literature and secured for himself no mean place in the annals of his time.

He forfeited, in the pursuit of forbidden pleasures, if pleasures they can be called, all and everything that made life dear.

He entered upon his incarceration bankrupt in reputation, in friends, in pocket, and had not even left to him the poor shreds of his own self-esteem.

He went into gaol, knowing that if he emerged alive, the darkness would swallow him up and that his world—the spheres which had delighted to honour him—would know him no more.

He had covered his name with infamy and sank his own celebrity in a slough of slime and filth.

He would die to leave behind him what?—the name of a man who was absolutely governed by his own vices and to whom no act of immorality was too foul or horrible.

Oscar Wilde emerged from prison in every way a broken man. The wonderful descriptive force of the Ballad of Reading Gaol; the perfect, torturing self-analysis of De Profundis speak eloquently of powers unimpaired; but they were the swan-songs of a once great mind. All his abilities had fled. He seemed unable to concentrate his mind upon anything. He took up certain subjects, played with them, and wearied of them in a day. French authors did not ostracise the erratic English genius when he hid himself amongst them and they honestly endeavoured to find him employment. But his faculties had been blunted by the horrors of prison life. His epigrams had lost their edge. His aphorisms were trite and aimless. He abandoned every subject he took up, in despair. His mind died before his body. He suffered from a complete mental atrophy. A nightingale cannot sing in a cage. A genius cannot flourish in a prison. He died in two years and is now—the merest memory! Let us remember this of him: if he sinned much, he suffered much.

Peace to his ashes!