Sugar Coated Assholes (Literal; Figurative)

I've just completed reading Cross Examinations of the Oscar Wilde Trials: A Comparison, which consists of what it sounds like: Transcripts of the cross examinations in the three trials involving Oscar Wilde. (What can I say, here? I'm a history-fascinated pansy with access to the materials of a legal library.) Of course we know that Wilde was famous for being well spoken and witty, but it is incredible to read how articulate he managed to be in the courtroom, under the rapid fire queer-outing interrogation of Mr. Edward Carson.

Although I knew that they had brought in some of the pieces he had written, I never realized how heavily his art was used as an attempt to create a case against him.  There's an entire section of the cross examination of the first trial that focuses strictly on Wilde's writing, and they go through everything: novels, plays, letters... entire segments and even single phrases are interrogated.

Mr. Carson reads heavily from The Picture of Dorian Gray,  but one of my favorite moments of classy smartass-ness (aka resistance) is in relation to a letter that Wilde wrote to Lord Alfred Douglas (aka "Bosie", the most infamous of Wilde's boys).  Mr. Carson is reading excerpts of the letter in order to imply to the members of the courtroom that Wilde's relationship with Bosie was "indecent":

Carson:  "Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry."... Is that a beautiful phrase?

Wilde: Not as you read it, Mr. Carson. You read it very badly.



While answering questions about supposed rent boys (Oh, to be a rent boy once again...) and rumors of stained hotel sheets, and while in the midst of a sturdy, glorious rain of cigarette cases, Oscar still manages to even achieve cross examination fashion cattiness (Here he is being questioned about a particular lad):

C. Were you fond of this boy?
W. Naturally.  He had been my companion for six weeks.
C. Did you take the lad to Brighton?
W. Yes.
C. And provided him with a suit of blue serge?
W. Yes.
C. And a straw hat with a band of red and blue?
W. That, I think, was his unfortunate selection.
C. But you paid for it?
W. Yes.



There is nothing in the world like a fashion-catty daddy.


(pause)


Ah, Oscar...


You may be many things, but you are far from tragic.


Each time I plume my back pocket with a flowering handkerchief
and each time I slide that last bit of notch to my Windsor knot



I will think of you.


That bit of wrist that is exposed
between
the end of a glove
and the beginning of one's sleeve



I will think of you.








k.

(photo credit: Lydia Roberts on Flickr)