Witness.—“I don’t think so.”
SirEdward.—“Was the gentleman sober?”
Witness.—“Oh, yes.”
SirEdward.—“What room did you go into?”
Witness.—“The sitting-room.”
SirEdward.—“Who called the police?”
Witness.—“I don’t know.”
SirEdward.—“The landlady, perhaps?”
Witness.—“I believe she did.”
SirEdward.—“Did the landlady give you and Burton into custody?”
Witness.—“No; nobody did.”
SirEdward.—“Some person must have done. Who did?”
Witness.—“All I can say is, I did not hear anybody.”
SirEdward.—“At any rate you were taken to Rochester Road, and the gentleman went with you?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
Police Constable 396 A was here called into court and took up a position close to the witness-box. He gazed curiously at Atkins, who wriggled about and eyed him uneasily.
SirEdward.—“Now I ask you in the presence of this officer, was the statement made at the police-station that you and the gentleman had been in bed together?”
Witness.—“I don’t think so.”
SirEdward.—“Think before you speak; it will be better for you. Did not the landlady actually come into the room and see you and the gentleman naked on or in the bed together?”
Witness.—“I don’t remember that she did.”
SirEdward.—“You may as well tell me about it. You know. Was that statement made?”
Witness.—“Well, yes it was.”
SirEdward.—“You had endeavoured to force money out of this gentleman?”
Witness.—“I asked him for some money.”
SirEdward.—“At the police-station the gentleman refused to prosecute?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
SirEdward.—“So you and Burton were liberated?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
SirEdward.—“About two hours ago, Atkins, I asked you these very questions and you swore upon your oath that you had not been in custody at all, and had never been taken to Rochester Road Police Station. How came you to tell me those lies?”
Witness.—“I did not remember it.”
Atkins looked somewhat crestfallen and abashed. Yet some of his former brazen impudence still gleamed upon his now scarlet face. He heaved a deep sigh of relief when told to leave the court by the judge, who pointed sternly to the doorway.
Of all the creatures associated with Wilde in these affairs, this Atkins was the lowest and most contemptible. For some years he had been in the habit of blackmailing men whom he knew to be inclined to perverted sexual vices, and his was a well-known figure up West. He constantly frequented the promenades of the music-halls. He “made up” hiseyes and lips, wore corsets and affected an effeminate air. He was an infallible judge of the class of man he wished to meet and rarely made a mistake. He would follow a likely subject about, stumble against him as though by accident and make an elaborate apology in mincing, female tones. Once in conversation with his “mark,” he speedily contrived to make the latter aware that he did not object to certain proposals. He invariably permitted the beastly act before attempting blackmail, partly because it afforded him a stronger hold over his “victim” and partly because he rejoiced in the disgusting thing for its own sake. He was the butt of the ladies of the pavement round Piccadilly Circus, who used to shout after him, enquire sarcastically “if he had got off last night,” and if his “toff hadn’t bilked him.” He would affect to laugh and pass the thing off with a joke; but, to his intimates, he assumed a great loathing for women of this class, whom he appeared to regard as dangerous obstacles to the exercise of his own foul trade. On several occasions he was assaulted by these women.
To return to the Trial of Wilde and Taylor. As soon as the enquiry was resumed, Mr. Charles Mathews went down into the cells and had aninterview with the prisoner Wilde, and on his return entered into serious consultation with his leader, Sir Edward Clarke. In the meanwhile, Taylor conversed with his counsel, Mr. Grain, across the rail of the dock. It was felt that an important announcement bearing on the conduct of the case was likely to be made. It came from Mr. Gill, representing the prosecution.
As soon as Mr. Justice Charles had taken his seat, the prosecuting counsel rose and said that having considered the indictment, he had decided not to ask for a verdict in the two counts charging the prisoners with conspiracy. Subdued expressions of surprise were audible from the public gallery when Mr. Gill delivered himself of this dramatic announcement, and the sensation was strengthened a little later when Sir Edward Clarke informed the jury that both the prisoners desired to give evidence and would be called as witnesses. These matters having been determined upon, Sir Edward Clarke rose and proceeded to make some severe criticisms upon the conduct of the prosecution in what he referred to as the literary part of the case. Hidden meanings, he said, had been most unjustly “read” into the poetical and prose works of his client and it seemed that an endeavour,though a futile one, was to be made to convict Mr. Wilde because of a prurient construction which had been placed by his enemies upon certain of his works. He alluded particularly to “Dorian Gray,” which was an allegory, pure and simple. According to the rather musty and far-fetched notions of the prosecution, it was an impure and simple allegory, but Wilde could not fairly be judged, he said, by the standards of other men, for he was a literary eccentric, though intellectually a giant, and he did not profess to be guided by the same sentiments as animated other and less highly-endowed men. He then called Mr. Wilde. The prisoner rose with seeming alacrity from his place in the dock, walked with a firm tread and dignified demeanour to the witness-box, and leaning across the rail in the same easy and not ungraceful attitude that he assumed when examined by Mr. Carson in the libel action, prepared to answer the questions addressed to him by his counsel. Wilde was first interrogated as to his previous career. In the year 1884, he had married a Miss Lloyd, and from that time to the present he had continued to live with his wife at 16, Tite Street, Chelsea. He also occupied rooms in St. James’s Place, which were rented for the purposes of his literary labours, as it was quiteimpossible to secure quiet and mental repose at his own house, when his two young sons were at home. He had heard the evidence in this case against himself, and asserted that there was no shadow of a foundation for the charges of indecent behaviour alleged against himself.
Mr. Gill then rose to cross-examine and the Court at once became on thequi vive. Wilde seemed perfectly calm and did not change his attitude, or tone of polite deprecation.
Mr.Gill.—“You are acquainted with a publication entitled ‘The Chameleon’?”
Witness.—“Very well indeed.”
Mr.Gill.—“Contributors to that journal are friends of yours?”
Witness.—“That is so.”
Mr.Gill.—“I believe that Lord Alfred Douglas was a frequent contributor?”
Witness.—“Hardly that, I think. He wrote some verses occasionally for the ‘Chameleon,’ and, indeed, for other papers.”
Mr.Gill.—“The poems in question were somewhat peculiar?”
Witness.—“They certainly were not mere commonplaces like so much that is labelled poetry.”
Mr.Gill.—“The tone of them met with your critical approval?”
Witness.—“It was not for me to approve or disapprove. I leave that to the Reviews.”
Mr.Gill.—“At the trial Queensberry and Wilde you described them as ‘beautiful poems’?”
Witness.—“I said something tantamount to that. The verses were original in theme and construction, and I admired them.”
Mr.Gill.—“In one of the sonnets by Lord A. Douglas a peculiar use is made of the word ‘shame’?”
Witness.—“I have noticed the line you refer to.”
Mr.Gill.—“What significance would you attach to the use of that word in connection with the idea of the poem?”
Witness.—“I can hardly take it upon myself to explain the thoughts of another man.”
Mr.Gill.—“You were remarkably friendly with the author? Perhaps he vouchsafed you an explanation?”
Witness.—“On one occasion he did.”
Mr.Gill.—“I should like to hear it.”
Witness.—“Lord Alfred explained that theword ‘shame’ was used in the sense of modesty,i. e.to feel shame or not to feel shame.”
Mr.Gill.—“You can, perhaps, understand that such verses as these would not be acceptable to the reader with an ordinarily balanced mind?”
Witness.—“I am not prepared to say. It appears to me to be a question of taste, temperament and individuality. I should say that one man’s poetry is another man’s poison!” (Loud laughter.)
Mr.Gill.—“I daresay! There is another sonnet. What construction can be put on the line, ‘I am the love that dare not speak its name’?”
Witness.—“I think the writer’s meaning is quite unambiguous. The love he alluded to was that between an elder and younger man, as between David and Jonathan; such love as Plato made the basis of his philosophy; such as was sung in the sonnets of Shakespeare and Michael Angelo; that deep spiritual affection that was as pure as it was perfect. It pervaded great works of art like those of Michael Angelo and Shakespeare. Such as ‘passeth the love of woman.’ It was beautiful, it was pure, it was noble, it was intellectual—this love of an elder man with his experience of life, andthe younger with all the joy and hope of life before him.”
The witness made this speech with great emphasis and some signs of emotion, and there came from the gallery, at its conclusion, a medley of applause and hisses which his lordship at once ordered to be suppressed.
Mr.Gill.—“I wish to call your attention to the style of your correspondence with Lord A. Douglas.”
Witness.—“I am ready. I am never ashamed of the style of any of my writings.”
Mr.Gill.—“You are fortunate—or shall I say shameless? I refer to passages in two letters in particular.”
Witness.—“Kindly quote them.”
Mr.Gill.—“In letter number one. You use this expression: ‘Your slim gilt soul,’ and you refer to Lord Alfred’s “rose-leaf lips.”
Witness.—“The letter is really a sort of prose sonnet in answer to an acknowledgement of one I had received from Lord Alfred.”
Mr.Gill.—“Do you think that an ordinarily-constituted being would address such expressions to a younger man?”
Witness.—“I am not, happily, I think, an ordinarily constituted being.”
Mr.Gill.—“It is agreeable to be able to agree with you, Mr. Wilde.” (Laughter).
Witness.—“There is, I assure you, nothing in either letter of which I need be ashamed.”
Mr.Gill.—“You have heard the evidence of the lad Charles Parker?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
Mr.Gill.—“Of Atkins?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
Mr.Gill.—“Of Shelley?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
Mr.Gill.—“And these witnesses have, you say, lied throughout?”
Witness.—“Their evidence as to my association with them, as to the dinners taking place and the small presents I gave them, is mostly true. But there is not a particle of truth in that part of the evidence which alleged improper behaviour.”
Mr.Gill.—“Why did you take up with these youths?”
Witness.—“I am a lover of youth.” (Laughter).
Mr.Gill.—“You exalt youth as a sort of God?”
Witness.—“I like to study the young ineverything. There is something fascinating in youthfulness.”
Mr.Gill.—“So you would prefer puppies to dogs, and kittens to cats?” (Laughter).
Witness.—“I think so. I should enjoy, for instance, the society of a beardless, briefless, barrister quite as much as that of the most accomplished Q. C.” (Loud laughter).
Mr.Gill.—“I hope the former, whom I represent in large numbers, will appreciate the compliment.” (More laughter). “These youths were much inferior to you in station?”
Witness.—“I never enquired, nor did I care, what station they occupied. I found them, for the most part, bright and entertaining. I found their conversation a change. It acted as a kind of mental tonic.”
Mr.Gill.—“You saw nothing peculiar or suggestive in the arrangement of Taylor’s rooms?”
Witness.—“I cannot say that I did. They were Bohemian. That is all. I have seen stranger rooms.”
Mr.Gill.—“You never suspected the relations that might exist between Taylor and his young friends?”
Witness.—“I had no need to suspect anything.Taylor’s relations with his friends appeared to me to be quite normal.”
Mr.Gill.—“You have attended to the evidence of the witness Mavor?”
Witness.—“I have.”
Mr.Gill.—“Is it true or false?”
Witness.—“It is mainly true, but false inferences have been drawn from it as from most of the evidence. Truth may be found, I believe, at the bottom of a well. It is, apparently difficult to find it in a court of law.” (Laughter.)
Mr.Gill.—“Nevertheless we endeavour to extract it. Did the witness Mavor write you expressing a wish to break off the acquaintance?”
Witness.—“I received a rather unaccountable and impertinent letter from him for which he afterwards expressed great regret.”
Mr.Gill.—“Why should he have written it if your conduct had altogether been blameless?”
Witness.—“I do not profess to be able to explain the motives of most of the witnesses. Mavor may have been told some falsehood about me. His father was greatly incensed at his conduct at this time, and, I believe, attributed his son’s erratic courses to his friendship with me. I do not think Mavor altogether to blame. Pressure was brought to bear uponhim and he was not then quite right in his mind.”
Mr.Gill.—“You made handsome presents to these young fellows?”
Witness.—“Pardon me, I differ. I gave two or three of them a cigarette-case. Boys of that class smoke a good deal of cigarettes. I have a weakness for presenting my acquitances with cigarette-cases.”
Mr.Gill.—“Rather an expensive habit if indulged in indiscriminately.”
Witness.—“Less extravagant than giving jewelled-garters to ladies.” (Laughter).
When a few more unimportant questions had been asked, Wilde left the witness-box, returning to the dock with the same air of what may be described as serious easiness. The impression created by his replies was not, upon the whole, favorable to his cause.
His place was taken by the prisoner Taylor. He said that he was thirty-three years of age and was educated at Marlborough. When he was twenty-one he came into £45,000. In a few years he ran through this fortune, and at about the time he went to Chapel Street, he was made a bankrupt. The charges made against him of misconduct were entirely unfounded. He was asked point-blank if he hadnot been given to sodomy from his early youth, and if he had not been expelled from a public-school for being caught in a compromising situation with a small boy in the lavatory. Taylor was also asked if he had not actually obtained a living since his bankruptcy by procuring lads and young men for rich gentlemen whom he knew to be given to this vice. He was also asked if he had not extracted large sums of money from wealthy men by threatening to accuse them of immoralities. To all these plain questions he returned in direct answer, “No.”
After the luncheon interval, Sir Edward Clark rose to address the jury in defence of Oscar Wilde. He began by carefully analysing the evidence. He declared that the wretches who had come forward to admit their own disgrace were shameless creatures incapable of one manly thought or one manly action. They were, without exception, blackmailers. They lived by luring men to their rooms, generally, on the pretence that a beautiful girl would be provided for them on their arrival. Once in their clutches, these victims could only get away by paying a large sum of money unless they were prepared to face and deny the most disgraceful charges. Innocent men constantly paid rather than face the odium attached to the breath even of such scandals. They had, moreover,wives and children, daughters, maybe or a sister whose honour or name they were obliged to consider. Therefore they usually submitted to be fleeced and in this way, this wretched Wood and the abject Atkins had been able to go about the West-end well-fed and well-dressed. These youths had been introduced to Wilde. They were pleasant-spoken enough and outwardly decent in their language and conduct. Wilde was taken in by them and permitted himself to enjoy their society. He did not defend Wilde for this; he had unquestionably shown imprudence, but a man of his temperament could not be judged by the standards of the average individual. These youths had come forward to make these charges in a conspiracy to ruin his client.
Was it likely, he asked, that a man of Wilde’s cleverness would put himself so completely in the power of these harpies as he would be if guilty of only a tenth of the enormities they alleged against him? If Wilde practised these acts so openly and so flagrantly—if he allowed the facts to come to the knowledge of so many—then he was a fool who was not fit to be at large. If the evidence was to be credited, these acts of gross indecency which culminated in actual crime were done in so open a manner as to compel the attention of landladies andhousemaids. He was not himself—and he thanked Heaven for it—versed in the acts of those who committed these crimes against nature. He did not know under what circumstances they could be practised. But he believed that this was a vice which, because of the horror and repulsion it excited, because of the fury it provoked against those guilty of it, was conducted with the utmost possible secrecy. He respectfully submitted that no jury could find a man guilty on the evidence of these tainted witnesses.
Take the testimony, he said, of Atkins. This young man had denied that he had ever been charged at a police station with alleging blackmail. Yet he was able to prove that he had grossly perjured himself in this and other directions. That was a sample of the evidence and Atkins was a type of the witnesses.
The only one of these youths who had ever attempted to get a decent living or who was not an experienced blackmailer was Mavor, and he had denied that Wilde had ever been guilty of any impropriety with him.
The prosecution had sought to make capital out of two letters written by Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas. He pointed out a fact which was of considerable importance, namely, that Wilde hadproduced one of these letters himself. Was that the act of a man who had reason to fear the contents of a letter being known? Wilde never made any secret of visiting Taylor’s rooms. He found there society which afforded him variety and change. Wilde made no secret of giving dinners to some of the witnesses. He thought that they were poorly off and that a good dinner at a restaurant did not often come their way. On only one occasion did he hire a private room. The dinners were perfectly open and above-board. Wilde was an extraordinary man and he had written letters which might seem high-flown, extravagant, exaggerated, absurd if they liked; but he was not afraid or ashamed to produce these letters. The witnesses Charles Parker, Alfred Wood and Atkins had been proved to have previously been guilty of blackmailing of this kind and upon their uncorroborated evidence surely the jury would not convict the prisoner on such terrible charges.
“Fix your minds,” concluded Sir Edward earnestly, “firmly on the tests that ought to be applied to the evidence as a whole before you can condemn a fellow-man to a charge like this. Remember all that this charge implied, of implacable ruin and inevitable disgrace. Then I trust that the result of your deliberations will be to gratify thosethousand hopes that are waiting upon your verdict. I trust that verdict will clear from this fearful imputation one of the most accomplished and renowned men-of-letters of to-day.”
At the end of this peroration, there was some slight applause at the back of the court, but it was hushed almost at once. Wilde had paid great attention to the speech on his behalf and on one or two occasions had pressed his hands to his eyes as if expressing some not unnatural emotion. The speech concluded, however, he resumed his customary attitude and awaited with apparent firmness all that might befall.
Mr. Grain then rose to address the jury on behalf of Taylor. He submitted that there was really no case against his client. An endeavour had been made to prove that Taylor was in the habit of introducing to Wilde youths whom he knew to be amenable to the practices of the latter and that he got paid for this degrading work. The attempt to establish this disgusting association between Taylor and Wilde had completely broken down. He was, it is true, acquainted with Parker, Wood and Atkins. He had seen them constantly in restaurants and music-halls, and they had at first forced themselves upon his notice and thus got acquainted with a manwhom they designed for blackmail. All the resources of the Crown had been unable to produce any corroboration of the charges made by these witnesses. How had Taylor got his livelihood, it might be asked? He was perfectly prepared to answer the question. He had been living on an allowance made him by members of his late father’s firm, a firm with which all there present were familiar. Was it in the least degree likely that such scenes as the witnesses described, with such apparent candour and such wealth of filthy detail, could have taken place in Taylor’s own apartments? It was incredible that a man could thus risk almost certain discovery. In conclusion, he confidently looked for the acquittal of his client, who was guilty of nothing more than having made imprudent acquaintances and having trusted too much to the descriptions of themselves given by others.
Mr. Gill then replied for the prosecution in a closely-reasoned and most able speech, which occupied two hours in delivery and which created an enormous impression in the crowded court. He commented at great length upon the evidence. He contended that in a case of this description corroboration was of comparatively minor importance, for it was not in the least likely that acts of the kindalleged would be practised before a third party who might afterwards swear to the fact. Therefore, when the witnesses described what had transpired when they and the prisoners were alone, he did not think that corroboration could possibly be given. There was not likely to be an eye-witness of the facts. But in respect to many things he declared the evidence was corroborated. Whatever the character of these youths might be, they had given evidence as to certain facts and no cross-examination, however adroit, however vigorous, had shaken their testimony, or caused them to waver about that which was evidently firmly implanted in their memories. A man might conceivably come forward and commit perjury. But these youths were accusing themselves, in accusing another, of shameful and infamous acts, and this they would hardly do if it were not the truth. Wilde had made presents to these youths and it was noticeable that the gifts were invariably made after he had been alone, at some rooms or other, with one or another of the lads. In the circumstances, even a silver cigarette-case was corroboration. His learned friend had protested against any evil construction being placed upon these gifts and these dinners; but, in the name of common-sense, what other construction was possible? Whenthey heard of a man like Wilde, presumably of refined and cultured tastes, who might if he wished, enjoy the society of the best and most cultivated men and women in London, accompanying to Nice and other places on the Continent, uninformed, unintellectual and vulgar, ill-bred youths of the type of Charles Parker, then, in Heaven’s name what were they to think? All those visits, all those dinners, all those gifts, were corroboration. They served to confirm the truth of the statements made by the youths who confessed to the commission of acts for which the things he had quoted were positive and actual payment.
In the case of the witness Sidney Mavor, it was clear that Wilde had, in some way, continued to disgust this youth. Some acts of Wilde, either towards himself, or towards others, had offended him. Was not the letter which Mavor had addressed to the prisoner, desiring the cessation of their friendship, corrobation?
(At this moment his Lordship interposed, and said that although the evidence of this witness was clearly of importance, he had denied that he had been guilty of impropriety, and he did not think the count in reference to Mavor could stand. Aftersome discussion this count was struck out of the indictment).
Before concluding Mr. Gill stated that he had withdrawn the conspiracy count to prevent any embarrassment to Sir Edward Clarke, who had complained that he was affected in his defence by the counts being joined. Mr. Gill said, in conclusion, that it was the duty of the jury to express their verdict without fear or favour. They owed a duty to Society, however sorry they might feel themselves at the moral downfall of an eminent man, to protect Society from such scandals by removing from its heart a sore which could not fail in time to corrupt and taint it all.
Mr. Justice Charles then commenced his summing-up. His lordship at the outset said he thought Mr. Gill had taken a wise course in withdrawing the conspiracy counts and thus relieving them all of an embarrassing position. He did not see why the conspiracy counts need have been inserted at all, and he should direct the jury to return a verdict of acquittal on those charges as well as upon one other count against Taylor, to which he would further allude, and upon which no sufficient evidence had been given.
He, the learned judge, asked the jury to applytheir minds solely to the evidence which had been given. Any pre-conceived notion which they might have formed from reading about the case he urged them to dismiss from their minds, and to deal with the case as it had been presented to them by the witnesses.
His Lordship went on to ask the jury not to attach too much importance to the uncorroborated evidence of accomplices in such cases as these. Had there been no corroboration in this case it would have been his duty to instruct the jury accordingly; but he was clearly of opinion that there was corroboration to all the witnesses; not, it is true, the conspiracy testimony of eye-witnesses, but corroboration of the narrative generally.
Three of the witnesses, Chas. Parker, Wood and Atkins, were not only accomplices, but they had been properly described by Sir Edward Clarke as persons of bad character. Atkins, out of his own mouth, was convicted of having told the most gross and deliberate falsehoods. The jury knew how this matter came before them as the outcome of the trial of Lord Queensberry for alleged libel.
The learned judge proceeded to outline the features of the Queensberry trial, commenting most upon what was called the literary part of Wilde’s examinationin that case. The judge said that he had not read “Dorian Gray”, but extracts were read at the former trial and the present jury had a general idea of the story. He did not think they ought to base any unfavourable inference upon the fact that Wilde was the author of that work. It would not be fair to do so, for while it was true that there were many great writers, such for instance as Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens, who never penned an offensive line, there were other great authors whose pens dealt with subjects not so innocent.
As for Wilde’s aphorisms in the “Chameleon”, some were amusing, some were cynical, and some were, if he might be allowed to say so, simple, but there was nothingin per se, to convict Wilde of indecent practices. However, the same paper contained a very indecent contribution; “The Priest and the Acolyte.” Mr. Wilde had nothing to do with that. In the “Chameleon” also appeared two poems by Lord Alfred Douglas, one called “In Praise of Shame”, and the other called “Two Loves.” It was said that these sonnets had an immoral tendency and that Wilde approved them. He was examined at great length about these sonnets, and was also asked about the two letters written by him to LordAlfred Douglas—letters that had been written before the publication of the above mentioned poems.
In the previous case Mr. Carson had insisted that these letters were indecent. On the other hand, Wilde had told them that he was not ashamed of them, as they were intended in the nature of prose poems and breathed the pure love of one man for another, such a love as David had for Jonathan, and such as Plato described as the beginning of wisdom.
He would next deal with the actual charges, and would first call their attention to the offence alleged to have been committed with Edward Shelley at the beginning of 1892. Shelley was undoubtedly in the position of an accomplice, but his evidence was corroborated. He was not, however, tainted with the offences with which Parker, Wood and Atkins were connected. He seemed to be a person of some education and a fondness for Literature. As to Shelley’s visit to the Albemarle Hotel, the jury were the best judges of the demeanour of the witness. Wilde denied all the allegations of indecency though he admitted the other parts of the young man’s story. His Lordship called attention to the letters written by Shelley to Wilde in 1892, 1893 and 1894. It was, he said, a very anxious part of the jury’s task to account for the tone of these letters, and for Shelley’s conductgenerally. It became a question as to whether or no his mind was disordered. He felt bound to say that though there was evidence of great excitability, to talk of either Shelley or Mavor as an insane youth was an exaggeration, but it would be for the jury to draw their own conclusions.
Passing to the case of Atkins, the judge drew attention to his meeting with Taylor in November 1892, to the dinner at the Café Florence, at which Wilde, Taylor, Atkins and Lord A. Douglas were present, and to the visit of Atkins to Paris in company with Wilde.
After dwelling on the circumstances of that visit, his lordship referred to Wilde’s two visits to Atkins in Osnaburgh Street in December 1893. Wilde explained the Paris visit by saying that Schwabe had arranged to take Atkins to Paris, but being unable to leave at the time appointed he asked Wilde to take charge of the youth, and he did so out of friendship for Schwabe. Wilde further denied that he was much in Atkins’ company when in Paris. Atkins certainly was an unreliable witness and had obviously given an incorrect version of his relations with Burton. He told the grossest falsehoods with regard to their arrest, and was convicted out of his own mouth when recalled by Sir E. Clarke. It was forthe jury to decide how much of Atkins’s evidence they might safely believe.
Then there were the events described as having occured at the Savoy Hotel in March 1892. He would ask the jury to be careful in the evidence of the chamber-maid, Jane Cotter, and the interpretation they put upon it. If her evidence and that of the Masseur Mijji, were true, then Wilde’s evidence on that part of the case was untrue, and the jury must use their own discretion. He did not wish to enlarge upon this most unpleasant part of the whole unpleasant case, but it was necessary to remind the jury as discreetly as he could that the chamber-maid had objected to making the bed on several occasions after Wilde and Atkins had been in the bed-room alone together. There were, she had affirmed, indications on the sheets that conduct of the grossest kind had been indulged in. He thought it his duty to remind the jury that there might be an innocent explanation of these stains, though the evidence of Jane Cotter certainly afforded a kind of corroboration of these charges and of Atkins’s own story. In reference to the case of Wood, he contrasted Wood’s account with that of Wilde.
It seemed that Lord Alfred Douglas had met Wood at Taylor’s rooms. In response to a telegram fromthe former, Wood went to the Café Royal and there met Wilde for the first time, Wilde speaking first. On the other hand, Wilde represented that Wood spoke first. The jury might think that, in any case, the circumstances of that meeting were remarkable, especially when taken in conjunction with what followed. There was no doubt that Wood had fallen into evil courses and he and Allen had extracted the sum of £300 in blackmail. The interview between Wilde and Wood prior to the latter’s departure for America was remarkable. A sum of money, said to be £30, was given by Wilde to Wood, and Wood returned some of Wilde’s letters that had somehow come into his possession. Wood, however, kept back one letter which got into Allen’s possession. Wood got £5 more on the following day, went to America, and while there wrote to Taylor a letter in which occured the passage. “Tell Oscar if he likes he can send me a draft for an Easter Egg.” It would be for the jury to consider what would have been the inner meaning of these and other transactions.
As to the prisoner Taylor, he had, on his own admission, led a life of idleness, and got through a fortune of £45,000. It was alleged that the prisoner had virtually turned his apartments into a bagnio orbrothel, in which young men took the place of prostitutes, and that his character in this regard was well known to those who were secretly given to this particular vice. One of the offences imputed to Taylor had reference to Charles Parker, who had spoken of the peculiar arrangement of the rooms. There were two bedrooms in the inner room with folding doors between and the windows were heavily draped, so that no one from the opposite houses could possibly see what was going on inside. Heavy curtains, it was said, hung before all the doors, so that it could not be possible for an eave’s-dropper to hear what was proceeding inside. There was a curiously shaped sofa in the sitting-room and the whole aspect of the room resembled, it was asserted, a fashionable resort for vice.
Wilde was undoubtedly present at some of the tea parties given there, and did not profess to be surprised at what he saw there. It had been shown that both the Parkers went to these rooms, and further, that Charles Parker had received £30 of the blackmail extorted by Wood and Allen.
Charles Parker’s evidence was therefore doubly-tainted like that of Wood and Atkins, but his evidence was to some extent confirmed by that of his brother William. Some parts of Charles Parker’sevidence were also corroborated by other witnesses, as for instance, by Marjorie Bancroft, who swore that she saw Wilde visit Charles Parker’s rooms in Park Walk.
It was admitted that this Parker visited Wilde at St. James’ Place. Charles Parker had been arrested with Taylor in the Fitzroy Square raid and this went to show that they were in the habit of associating with those suspected of offences of the kind alleged. Both, however, were on that occasion discharged and Parker enlisted in the army. It was quite manifest that Charles Parker was of a low class of morality.
That concluded the various charges made in this case and he had very little to add. Mavor’s evidence had little or no value with reference to the issues now before the jury, except as showing how he became acquainted with Wilde and Taylor. So far as it went, Mavor’s evidence was rather in favour of Wilde than otherwise and nothing indecent had been proved against that witness.
In conclusion, his lordship submitted the case to the jury in the confident hope that they would do justice to themselves on the one hand, and to the two defendants on the other. The learned judge concluded by further directing the jury as to the issues,and asked them to form their opinions on the evidence, and to give the case their careful consideration.
The judge left the following questions to the jury:—
First, whether Wilde committed certain offences with Shelley, Wood, with a person or persons unknown at the Savoy Hotel, or with Charles Parker?
Secondly, whether Taylor procured the commission of those acts or any of them?
Thirdly, did Wilde or Taylor, or either of them attempt to get Atkins to commit certain offences with Wilde, andFourthly, did Taylor commit certain acts with either Charles Parker or Wood?
The Jury retired at 1.35, the summing-up of the judge having taken exactly three hours.
At three o’clock a communication was brought from the jury, and conveyed by the Clerk of arraigns to the Judge, and shortly afterwards the jury had luncheon taken in to them.
At 4.15 the judge sent for the Clerk of arraigns, Mr. Avory, who proceeded to his lordship’s private room.
Subsequently, Mr. Avory went to the jury, apparently with a communication from the judge andreturned in a few minutes to the judge’s private room.
Shortly before five o’clock the usher brought a telegram from one of the jurors, and after it had been shown to the clerk of arraigns it was allowed to be despatched.
Eventually the jury returned into court at a quarter past five o’clock.
THE VERDICT
The Judge.—“I have received a communication from you to the effect that you are unable to arrive at an agreement. Now, is there anything you desire to ask me in reference to the case?”
The Foreman.—“I have put that question to my fellow-jurymen, my lord, and I do not think there is any doubt that we cannot agree upon three of the questions.”
The Judge.—“I find from the entry which you have written against the various subdivisions of No. 1 that you cannot agree as to any of those subdivisions?”
The Foreman.—“That is so, my lord.”
The Judge.—“Is there no prospect of an agreement if you retire to your room?”
The Foreman.—“I fear not.”
The Judge.—“You have not been inconvenienced; I ordered what you required, and there is no prospect that, with a little more deliberation, you may come to an agreement as to some of them?”
The Foreman.—“My fellow-jurymen say there is no possibility.”
The Judge.—“I am very unwilling to prejudice your deliberations, and I have no doubt that you have done your best to arrive at an agreement. On the other hand I would point out to you that the inconveniences of a new trial are very great. If you thought that by deliberating a reasonable time you could arrive at a conclusion upon any of the questions I have asked you, I would ask you to do so.”
The Foreman.—“We considered the matter before coming into court and I do not think there is any chance of agreement. We have considered it again and again.”
The Judge.—“If you tell me that, I do not think I am justified in detaining you any longer.”
SirEdward Clarke.—“I wish to ask, my lord, that a verdict may be given in the conspiracy counts.”
Mr.Gill.—“I wish to oppose that.”
The Judge.—“I directed the acquittal of theprisoners on the conspiracy counts this morning. I thought that was the right course to adopt, and the same remark might be made with regard to the two counts in which Taylor was charged with improper conduct towards Wood and Parker. It was unfortunate that the real and material questions which had occupied the jury’s attention for such a length of time were matters upon which the jury were unable to agree. Upon these matters and upon the counts which were concerned with them, I must discharge the jury.”
SirEdward Clarke.—“I wish to apply for bail, then for M. Wilde.”
Mr.Hall.—“And I make the same application on behalf of Taylor.”
The Judge.—“I don’t feel able to accede to the applications.”
SirEdward.—“I shall probably renew the application, my lord.”
The Judge.—“That would be to a judge in chambers.”
Mr.Gill.—“The case will assuredly be tried again and probably it will go to the next Sessions.”
The two prisoners, who had listened to all this very attentively, were then conducted from the dock.Wilde had listened to the foreman of the jury’s statement without any show of feeling.
It was stated that the failure of the jury to agree upon a verdict was owing to three out of the twelve being unable upon the evidence placed before them to arrive at any other conclusion than that of “Not Guilty.”
The following day Mr. Baron Pollock decided that Oscar Wilde should be allowed out on bail in his own recognisances of £2,500 and two sureties of £1,250 each. Wilde was brought up at Bow Street next day and the sureties attended. After a further application, bail in his case was granted and he went out of prison, for the present a free man, but withNemesis, in the shape of the second trial, awaiting him!
The second trial of Oscar Wilde, with its dramatic finale, for no one thought much of its consequences to Alfred Taylor, came on in the third week of May at the Old Bailey.
It was agreed to take the cases of the prisoners separately, Taylor’s first. Sir Edward Clarke, who still represented Wilde, stated that he should makean application at the end of Taylor’s trial that Wilde’s case should stand over till the next sessions. His lordship said that application had better be postponed till the end of the first trial, significantly adding, “If there should be an acquittal, so much the better for the other prisoner.” Meanwhile Wilde was to be released on bail.
Sir Francis Lockwood, who now represented the prosecution, then went over all the details of the intimacy of the Parkers and Wood with Taylor and Wilde and called Charles Parker, who repeated his former evidence, including a very serious allegation against the prisoner. He stated in so many words that Taylor had kept him at his rooms for a whole week during which time they rarely went out, and had repeatedly committed sodomy with him. The witness unblushingly asserted that they slept together and that Taylor called him “Darling” and referred to him as “my little Wife.” When he left Taylor’s rooms the latter paid him some money, said he should never want for cash and that he would introduce him to men “prepared to pay for that kind of thing.” Cross-examined; Charles Parker admitted that he had previously been guilty of this offence, but had determined never to submit to such treatment again. Taylor over-persuaded him. He wasnearly drunk and incapable, the first time, of making a moral resistance.
Alfred Wood also described his acquaintance with Taylor and his visits to what he termed the “snuggery” at Little College Street, but which quite as appropriately could have been designed by a name which would have the additional merit of strictly describing it and of rhyming with it at the same time! It was not at all clear, however, that Taylor was responsible, at least directly, for the introduction of Alfred Wood to Wilde as the indictment suggested. This was effected by a third person, whose name had not as yet been introduced into the case.
Mrs. Grant, the landlady at 13 Little College Street, described Taylor’s rooms. She was not aware, she said, that they were put to an improper use, but she had remarked to her husband the care taken that whatever went on there should be hidden from the eyes and ears of others. Young men used to come there and remain some time with Taylor, and Wilde was a frequent visitor. Taylor provided much of his own bed-linen and she noticed that the pillows had lace and were generally elaborate and costly.
The prosecution next called a new witness, EmilyBecca, chambermaid at the Savoy Hotel, who stated that she had complained to the management of the state in which she found the bed-linen and the utensils of the room. When pressed for particulars the witness hesitated, and after stating that she refused to make the bed or empty the “chamber,” she said she handed in her notice but was prevailed upon to withdraw it. Then by a series of adroit questions Counsel obtained the particulars. The bed-linen was stained. The colour was brown. The towels were similarly discoloured. One of the pillows was marked with face-powder. There was excrement in one of the utensils in the bedroom. Wilde had handed her half a sovereign but when she saw the state of the room after he had gone she gave the coin to the management.
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 hisdefence 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.”
SirFrank Lockwood.—“Did Charles Mavor stay with you then?”
Witness.—“Yes, about a week.”
SirFrank.—“When?”
Witness.—“When I first went there, in 1892.”
SirFrank.—“What is his age?”
Witness.—“He is now 26 or 27.”
SirFrank.—“Do you remember going through a form of marriage with Mavor?”
Witness.—“No, never.”
SirFrank.—“Did you tell Parker you did?”
Witness.—“Nothing of the kind.”
SirFrank.—“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.”
SirFrank.—“Did you ever sleep with Mavor?”
Witness.—“I think I did the first night—after, he had a separate bed.”
SirFrank.—“Did you induce Mavor to attire himself as a woman?”
Witness.—“Certainly I did not.”
SirFrank.—“But there were articles of women’s dress at your rooms?”
Witness.—“No. There was a fancy dress for a female, a theatrical costume.”
SirFrank.—“Was it made for a woman?”
Witness.—“I think so.”
SirFrank.—“Perhaps you wore it?”
Witness.—“I put it on once by way of a lark.”
SirFrank.—“On no other occasion?”
Witness.—“I wore it once, too, at a fancy dress ball.”
SirFrank.—“I suggest that you often dressed as a woman?”
Witness.—“No.”
SirFrank.—“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.”
SirFrank.—“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’.”
SirFrank.—“Who introduced you to the Parkers?”
Witness.—“A friend named Harrington at the St. James’s Restaurant.”
SirFrank.—“You invited them to your rooms?”
Witness.—“I did.”
SirFrank.—“Why?”
Witness.—“I found them very nice.”
SirFrank.—“You were acquainted with a young fellow named Mason?”
Witness.—“Yes.”
SirFrank.—“He visited you?”
Witness.—“Two or three times only, I think.”
SirFrank.—“Did you induce him to commit a filthy act with you?”
Witness.—“Never.”
SirFrank.—“He has written you letters?”
Witness.—“That’s very likely.”
SirFrank.—“The Solicitor General proposes to read one.”
The letter was as follows:—