ity in
thought in the article in _The Chameleon_, he retorted "that there is
no such thing as morality or immorality in thought." A hum of
understanding and approval ran through the court; the intellect is
profoundly amoral.

Again and again he scored in this way off Mr. Carson.

"No work of art ever puts forward views; views belong to the
Philistines and not to artists."...

"What do you think of this view?"

"I don't think of any views except my own."

All this while Mr. Carson had been hitting at a man on his own level;
but Oscar Wilde was above him and not one of his blows had taken
effect. Every moment, too, Oscar grew more and more at his ease, and
the combat seemed to be turning completely in his favour. Mr. Carson
at length took up "Dorian Gray" and began cross-examining on passages
in it.

"You talk about one man adoring another. Did you ever adore any man?"

"No," replied Oscar quietly, "I have never adored anyone but myself."

The Court roared with laughter. Oscar went on:

"There are people in the world, I regret to say, who cannot understand
the deep affection that an artist can feel for a friend with a
beautiful personality."

He was then questioned about his letter (already quoted here) to Lord
Alfred Douglas. It was a prose-poem, he said, written in answer to a
sonnet. He had not written to other people in the same strain, not
even to Lord Alfred Douglas again: he did not repeat himself in
style.

Mr. Carson read another letter from Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred
Douglas, which paints their relations with extraordinary exactness.
Here it is:

SAVOY HOTEL,
VICTORIA EMBANKMENT, LONDON.

DEAREST OF ALL BOYS,--

Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me; but I
am sad and out of sorts. Bosie, you must not make scenes
with me. They kill me, they wreck the loveliness of life. I
cannot see you, so Greek and gracious, distorted with
passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous
things to me. I would sooner ('here a word is
indecipherable,' Mr. Carson went on, 'but I will ask the
witness')[13]--than have you bitter, unjust, hating.... I
must see you soon. You are the divine thing I want, the
thing of genius and beauty; but I don't know how to do it.
Shall I come to Salisbury? My bill here is L49 for a week. I
have also got a new sitting-room.... Why are you not here,
my dear, my wonderful boy