Extraordinary interest was displayed in the action; and the courts were besieged on each day that the trial lasted. Remarkable revelations were expected and they were indeed forthcoming. Enormous pains had been taken to provide a strong defence and it was quite clear almost after the first day that Wilde"s case would infallibly break down. He made some astonishing admissions in the witness-box and even disgusted many of his friends by the flippancy and affected unconcern of his replies to questions of the most damaging nature. He, apparently, saw nothing indecorous in facts which must shock any other than the most depraved. He saw nothing disgusting in friendships of a kind to which only one construction could be put. He gave expensive dinners to ex-barmen and the like: ignorant, brutish young fools--because they amused him! He presented youths of questionable moral character with silver cigarette-cases because their society was pleasant! He took young men to share his bedroom at hotels and saw nothing remarkable in such proceedings. He gave sums of thirty pounds to ill-bred youths--accomplished blackmailers--because they were hard-up and he felt they did not deserve poverty! He a.s.sisted other young men of a character equally undesirable, to go to America and received letters from them in which they addressed him as "Dear Oscar,"
and sent him their love. In short, his own statements d.a.m.ned him. Out of his own mouth--and he posing all the time--was he convicted. The case could have but one ending. Sir Edward Clarke--pained, surprised, shocked--consented to a verdict for the Marquis of Queensberry and the great libel case was at an end. The defendant left the court proudly erect, conscious that he had been the means of saving his son and of eradicating from society a canker which had been rotting it unnoticed, except by a few, for a very long time. Oscar Wilde left the court a ruined and despised man. People--there were one or two left who were loyal to him--turned aside from him with loathing. He had nodded to six or seven friends in court on the last day of the trial and turned ashen pale when he observed their averted looks. All was over for him. The little supper-parties with a few choice wits; the glorious intoxication of first-night applause; the orgies in the infamous dens of his boon companions--all these were no more for him. Oscar Wilde, _bon vivant_, man of letters, arbiter of literary fashion, stood at the bar of public opinion, a wretch guilty of crimes against which the body recoils and the mind revolts. Oh! what a falling-off was there!
If any reader would care to know the impression made upon the opinion of the London world by the revelations of this lawsuit, let him turn to the "Daily Telegraph" of the morning following the dramatic result of the trial. In that great newspaper appeared a leading article in reference to Oscar Wilde, the terms of which, though deserved, were most scathing, denunciatory, and bitter. Yet a general feeling of relief permeated the regret which was universally expressed at so terrible a termination of a distinguished career. Society was at no pains to hide its relief that the Augean stable has been cleansed and that a terrible scandal had been exorcised from its midst.
It now becomes a necessary, albeit painful task, to describe the happenings incidental or subsequent to the Wilde & Queensberry proceedings. It was certain that matters could not be allowed to rest as they were. A jury in a public court had convinced themselves that Lord Queensberry"s allegations were strictly true and the duty of the Public Prosecutor was truly clear. The law is not, or should not be, a respector of persons, and Oscar Wilde, genius though he were, was not less amenable to the law than would be any ignorant boor suspected of similar crimes.
The machinery of legal process was set in action and the arrest of Wilde followed as a matter of course.
A prominent name in the libel action against Lord Queensberry had been that of one Alfred Taylor. This individual, besides being himself guilty of the most infamous practices, had, it would appear, for long acted as a sort of precursor for the Apostle of Culture and his capture took place at nearly the same time as that of his princ.i.p.al. The latter was arrested at a certain quiet and fashionable hotel whither he had gone with one or two yet loyal friends after the trial for libel. His arrest was not unexpected, of course; but it created a tremendous sensation and vast crowds collected at Bow Street Police Station and in the vicinity during the preliminary examinations before the Magistrate. The prisoner Wilde bore himself with some show of fort.i.tude, but it was clear that the iron had already entered into his soul and his old air of jaunty indifference to the opinion of the world had plainly given way to a mental anxiety which could not altogether be hidden, though it could be controlled. On one occasion as, fur-coated, silk-hatted, he entered the dock, he nodded familiarly to the late Sir Augustus Harris, but that magnate of the theatrical world deliberately turned his back upon the playwriting celebrity. The evidence from first to last was followed with the most intense interest and the end of it was that Oscar Wilde was fully committed for trial.
The case came on at the Old Bailey during the month of April, 1895, and it was seen that the interest had in no wise abated. Mr. Justice Charles presided and he was accompanied by the customary retinue of Corporation dignitaries. The court was crowded in every part and hundreds of people were unsuccessful in efforts to obtain admission. A reporter for a Sunday newspaper wrote: "Wilde"s personal appearance has changed little since his committal from Bow Street. He wears the same clothes and continues to carry the same hat. He looks haggard and worn, and his long hair that was so carefully arranged when last he was in the court, though not then in the dock, is now dishevelled. Taylor, on the other hand, still neatly dressed, appears not to have suffered from his enforced confinement. But he no longer attempts to regard the proceedings with that indifference which he affected when first before the magistrate."
As soon as Wilde and his confederate took their places in the dock, each held a whispered consultation with his counsel and the Clerk of Arraigns then read over the indictments. Both prisoners pleaded "Not guilty,"
Taylor speaking in a loud and confident tone. Wilde spoke quietly, looked very grave and gave attentive heed to the formal opening proceedings.
Mr. C. F. Gill led for the prosecution and he rose amidst a breathless silence, to outline the main facts of the case. After begging the jury to dismiss from their minds anything that they might have heard or read in regard to the affair, and to abandon all prejudice on either side, he described at some length the circ.u.mstances which led up to the present prosecution. He spoke of the arrest and committal of the Marquis of Queensberry on a charge of criminal libel and of the collapse of the case for the prosecution when the case was heard at the Old Bailey. He alluded to the subsequent inevitable arrest of Wilde and Taylor and of the committal of both prisoners to take their trial at the present Sessions.
Wilde, he said, was well-known as a dramatic author and generally, as a literary man of unusual attainments. He had resided, until his arrest, at a house in t.i.te Street, Chelsea, where his wife lived with the children of the marriage. Taylor had had numerous addresses, but for the time covered by these charges, had dwelt in Little College Street, and afterwards in Chapel Street. Although Wilde had a house in t.i.te Street, he had at different times occupied rooms in St. James"s Place, the Savoy Hotel and the Albermarle Hotel. It would be shown that Wilde and Taylor were in league for certain purposes and Mr. Gill then explained the specific allegations against the prisoners. Wilde, he a.s.serted, had not hesitated, soon after his first introduction to Taylor, to explain to him to what purpose he wished to put their acquaintance. Taylor was familiar with a number of young men who were in the habit of giving their bodies, or selling them, to other men for the purpose of sodomy. It appeared that there was a number of youths engaged in this abominable traffic and that one and all of them were known to Taylor, who went about and sought out for them men of means who were willing to pay heavily for the indulgence of their favorite vice. Mr. Gill endeavoured to show that Taylor himself was given to sodomy and that he had himself indulged in these filthy practices with the same youths as he agreed to procure for Wilde. The visits of the latter to Taylor"s rooms were touched upon and the circ.u.mstances attending these visits were laid bare. On nearly every occasion when Wilde called, a young man was present with whom he committed the act of sodomy. The names of various young men connected with these facts were mentioned in turn and the case of the two Parkers was given as a sample of many others on which the learned counsel preferred to dwell with less minuteness.
When Taylor gave up his rooms in Little College Street and took up his abode in Chapel Street, he left behind him a number of compromising papers, which would be produced in evidence against the prisoners; and he should submit in due course that there was abundant corroboration of the statements of the youths involved. Mr. Gill pointed out the peculiarities in the case of Frederick Atkins. This youth had accompanied the prisoner Wilde to Paris, and there could be no doubt whatever that the latter had in the most systematic way endeavoured to influence this young man"s mind towards vicious courses and had endeavoured to mould him to his own depraved will. The relations which had existed between the prisoner and another lad, one Alfred Wood, were also fully described and the learned counsel made special allusion to the remarkable manner in which Wilde had lavished money upon Wood prior to the departure of that youth for America.
Mr. Gill referred to yet another of Wilde"s youthful familiars--namely: Sidney Mavor--in regard to whom, he said, the jury must form their own conclusions after they had heard the evidence. Among other things to which he would ask them to direct careful attention was a letter written in pencil by Taylor, the prisoner, to this youth. The communication ran: "Dear Sid, I cannot wait any longer. Come at once and see Oscar at t.i.te Street. I am, Yours ever, Alfred Taylor." The use of the christian name of Wilde in so familiar a way suggested the nature of the acquaintance which existed between Mavor and Wilde, who was old enough to be his father. In conclusion, Mr. Gill asked the jury to give the case, painful as it must necessarily be, their most earnest and careful consideration.
Both Wilde and Taylor paid keen attention to the opening statement. They exchanged no word together and it was observed that Wilde kept as far apart from his companion in the dock, as he possibly could.
The first witness called was Charles Parker. He proved to be a rather smartly-attired youth, fresh-coloured, and of course, clean-shaven. He was very pale and appeared uneasy. He stated that he had first met Taylor at the St. James" Restaurant. The latter had got into conversation with him and the young fellows with him, and had insisted on "standing" drinks.
Conversation of a certain nature pa.s.sed between them. Taylor called attention to the prost.i.tutes who frequent Piccadilly Circus and remarked: "I can"t understand sensible men wasting their money on painted trash like that. Many do, though. But there are a few who know better. Now, you could get money in a certain way easily enough, if you cared to." The witness had formerly been a valet and he was at this time out of employment. He understood to what Taylor alluded and made a coa.r.s.e reply.
Mr. GILL.--"I am obliged to ask you what it was you actually said."
WITNESS.--"I do not like to say."
Mr. GILL.--"You were less squeamish at the time, I daresay. I ask you for the words."
WITNESS.--"I said that if any old gentleman with money took a fancy to me, I was agreeable. I was terribly hard up."
Mr. GILL.--"What did Taylor say?"
WITNESS.--"He laughed and said that men far cleverer, richer and better than I preferred things of that kind."
Mr. GILL.--"Did Taylor mention the prisoner Wilde?"
WITNESS.--"Not at that time. He arranged to meet me again and I consented."
Mr. GILL.--"Where did you first meet Wilde?"
WITNESS.--"At the Solferino Restaurant."
Mr. GILL.--"Tell me what transpired."
WITNESS.--"Taylor said he could introduce me to a man who was good for plenty of money. Wilde came in later and I was formally introduced. Dinner was served for four in a private room."
Mr. GILL.--"Who made the fourth?"
WITNESS.--"My brother, William Parker. I had promised Taylor that he should accompany me."
Mr. GILL.--"What happened during dinner?"
WITNESS.--"There was plenty of champagne and brandy and coffee. We all partook of it."
Mr. GILL.--"Of what nature was the conversation?"
WITNESS.--"General, at first. Nothing was then said as to the purposes for which we had come together."
Mr. GILL.--"And then?"
WITNESS.--"Wilde invited me to go to his rooms at the Savoy Hotel. Only he and I went, leaving my brother and Taylor behind. Wilde and I went in a cab. At the Savoy we went to his--Wilde"s--sitting-room."
Mr. GILL.--"More drink was offered you there?"
WITNESS.--"Yes; we had liqueurs."
Mr. GILL.--"Let us know what occurred."
WITNESS.--"He committed the act of sodomy upon me."
Mr. GILL.--"With your consent?"
The witness did not reply. Further examined, he said that Wilde on that occasion had given him two pounds and asked him to call upon him again a week later. He did so, the same thing occurred and Wilde then gave him three pounds. The witness next described a visit to Little College Street, to Taylor"s rooms. Wilde used to call there and the same thing occurred as at the Savoy. For a fortnight or three weeks the witness lodged in Park-Walk, close to Taylor"s house. There too he was visited by Wilde. The witness gave a detailed account of the disgusting proceedings there. He said, "I was asked by Wilde to imagine that I was a woman and that he was my lover. I had to keep up this illusion. I used to sit on his knees and he used to play with my privates as a man might amuse himself with a girl." Wilde insisted in this filthy make-believe being kept up. Wilde gave him a silver cigarette case and a gold ring, both of which articles he p.a.w.ned. The prisoner said, "I don"t suppose boys are different to girls in acquiring presents from them who are fond of them." He remembered Wilde having rooms at St. James"s Place and the witness visited him there.
Mr. GILL.--"Where else have you been with Wilde?"
WITNESS.--"To Kettner"s Restaurant."
Mr. GILL.--"What happened there?"
WITNESS.--"We dined there. We always had a lot of wine. Wilde would talk of poetry and art during dinner, and of the old Roman days."
Mr. GILL.--"On one occasion you proceeded from Kettner"s to Wilde"s house?"
WITNESS.--"Yes. We went to t.i.te Street. It was very late at night. Wilde let himself and me in with a latchkey. I remained the night, sleeping with the prisoner, and he himself let me out in the early morning before anyone was about."
Mr. GILL.--"Where else have you visited this man?"
WITNESS.--"At the Albemarle Hotel. The same thing happened then."
Mr. GILL.--"Where did your last interview take place?"