When Carson began to ask Wilde about his relationships with named young men， Wilde became noticeably uncomfortable. The jury appeared astonished when Carson produced items ranging from fine clothes to silver-mounted walking sticks that Wilde admitted giving to his young companions. Suspiciously， the recipients of the gifts were not， in Carson's words， "intellectual treats，" but newspaper peddlers， valets， or unemployed——in some cases barely literate. Wilde tried to explain： "I recognize no social distinctions at all of any kind， and to me youth， the mere fact of youth， is so wonderful that I would sooner talk to a young man for half-an-hour than be——well——cross-examined in court." Soon after that confident response， Carson asked Wilde about a young man， sixteen when Wilde knew him， named Walter Grainger. Did Wilde kiss him？ "Oh， dear no！" Wilde replied， "He was a peculiarly plain boy." Carson zeroed in on his prey. Was that the reason he didn't kiss him？ Why then did he mention his ugliness？ "Why， why， why， did you add that？" Carson demanded to know.

　　That afternoon the prosecution closed its case without calling， as was widely expected， Lord Alfred Douglas as a witness. No testimony that Douglas might give， no matter how forceful， could save Wilde's case.

　　When Carson announced， in his opening speech in defense of Queensberry， that he intended to call to the witness box a procession of young men with whom Wilde had been sexually associated， the atmosphere in the courtroom became tense. Edward Clarke understood his client was in serious personal danger. An 1895 Act， the Criminal Law Amendment Act， had made it a crime for any person to commit an act of "gross indecency." The Act had been interpreted to criminalize any form of sexual activity between members of the same sex.

　　After trial that evening， Edward Clarke met with his famous client. "When I saw Mr. Wilde，" Clarke later recalled， "I told him it that it was almost impossible in view of all the circumstances to induce a jury to convict of a criminal offence a father who was endeavoring to save his son from what he believed to be an evil companionship." Clarke urged Wilde to allow him to withdraw the prosecution and consent to a verdict regarding the charge of "posing." Wilde agreed， and the next morning Clarke rose to announce the withdrawal of the libel prosecution.

　　Queensberry's solicitor， meanwhile， had forwarded to the Director of Public Prosecutions copies of statements by the young men they had planned to produce as witnesses. At 3：30 p.m.， an inspector from Scotland Yard appeared before Magistrate John Bridge to request a warrant for the arrest of Oscar Wilde. Bridge adjourned the court for an hour and a half， apparently to give Wilde time to make his escape from England on the last train to the Continent.

　　Wilde， however， had lapsed into "a pathetic state of indecision." Meeting with Douglas and his old friend Robert Ross at the Cadogan Hotel， Wilde wavered back and forth between staying and fleeing until， he said， "The train has gone——it is too late." When Wilde learned from a journalist calling at the hotel that a warrant had been issued， Wilde went "very gray in the face." He sat quietly in his chair drinking glass after glass of hock and seltzer. Soon Wilde's name was removed from the ads at playbills at the St. James Theatre， where The Importance of Being Earnest was still being performed.

　　The first criminal trial of Oscar Wilde opened at Old Bailey on April 26， 1895. Wilde and Alfred Taylor， the procurer of young men for Wilde， faced twenty-five counts of gross indecencies and conspiracy to commit gross indecencies. A parade of young male witnesses for the prosecution testified regarding their roles in helping Wilde to act out his sexual fantasies. Although Wilde was not prosecuted for sodomy， there was little doubt by the end of the trial that he might have been. Almost all of them expressed shame and remorse over their own actions， and Wilde seemed to be left conflicted by their testimony. （Later Wilde compared his encounters with "feasting with panthers." Wilde wrote that "the danger was half the excitement."） On the fourth day of trial， Wilde took the stand. His arrogance of the first trial was gone. He answered questions quietly， denying all allegations of indecent behavior. The most memorable moment of the trial came in Wilde's response to a question about the meaning of a phrase in a poem of Lord Alfred Douglas. Prosecutor Charles Gill asked， "What is 'the Love that dare not speak its name'？" Wilde's response drew a loud applause——and a few hisses：

　　"The love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan， such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy， and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep， spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo， and those two letters of mine， such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood， so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name，" and on account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful， it is fine， it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual， and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man， when the elder man has intellect， and the younger man has all the joy， hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.

　　Edward Clarke followed Wilde's testimony with a powerful summation on behalf of his client. Clarke closed by asking the jury to "gratify those thousands of hopes that are hanging on your decision" and "clear from this fearful imputation one of our most renowned and accomplished men of letters of today and， in clearing him， clear society from a stain." Clarke's closing speech left Wilde in tears， and he scribbled out a note of thanks which he passed to his counsel.

　　The jury deliberated for over three hours before concluding that they could not reach a verdict on most of the charges （the jury acquitted Wilde on charges relating to Frederick Atkins， one of the young men with whom he was accused of having engaged in a gross indecency.） On May 7， Wilde was released on bail to enjoy three weeks of freedom until the start of his second criminal trial.

　　The Liberal government determined to go all-out to secure a conviction in Wilde's second trial， even when people such as Queensberry's attorney Edward Carson were urging， "Can you not let up on this fellow now？" There is much speculation about the government's aggressive position on the Wilde case. Prime Minister Rosebery was suspected of having had a homosexual affair， when he was Foreign Minister， with Francis Douglas， another one of Queensberry's good-looking sons. It was shortly after Francis Douglas was "killed in a hunting accident" （probably a suicide）， that Queensberry went on the rampage against Oscar Wilde. There is plausible evidence in the form of ambiguous letters to conclude that Rosebery was threatened with exposure by Queensberry or others if he failed to aggressively prosecute Wilde. It is interesting to note that during the two months leading up to Wilde's conviction， Rosebery suffered from serious depression and insomnia. After Wilde's conviction， his heath suddenly improved.

　　Wilde's second prosecution was headed by England's top prosecutor， Solicitor-General Frank Lockwood. Although the trial resembled in many way the first， the prosecution dropped its weakest witnesses and focused more heavily on its strongest. Lockwood had the last word in the trial， and used it to offer what Wilde described as an "appalling denunciation [of me]——like something out of Tacitus， like a passage in Dante， like one of Savonarola's indictments of the Popes of Rome." After over three hours of deliberation， the jury returned its verdict： guilty on all counts except those relating to Edward Shelley. Wilde swayed slightly in the dock； his face turned gray. Some in the courtroom shouted "Shame！" while expressed their approval of the verdict.

　　The Wilde trials caused public attitudes toward homosexuals to become harsher and less tolerant. Whereas prior to the trials there was a certain pity for those who engaged in same-sex passion， after the trials homosexuals were seen more as a threat. The Wilde trials had other effects as well. They caused caused the public to begin to associate art and homo eroticism and to see effeminacy as a signal for homosexuality. Many same sex relationships seen as innocent before the Wilde trials became suspect after the trials. People with close same sex relationships grew anxious， concerned about doing anything that might suggest impropriety.

　　Wilde served two years in prison， the last eighteen months being spent at Reading Gaol. He came out chastened and bankrupt， but not bitter. He told a friend that he "had gained much" in prison and was "ashamed on having led a life unworthy of an artist." In his prison writing， De Profondis， Wilde says， " I became a spendthrift of my genius and to waste an eternal youth gave me a curious joy."

　　After his release from Reading Gaol， Wilde traveled in Europe. He died on November 30， 1900 in Paris.

　　“All trials are trials for one's life， just as all sentences are sentences of death， and three times I have been tried. The first time I left the box to be arrested， the second time to be led back to the house of detention， and the third time to pass into prison for two years. Society as we have constituted it， will have no place for me， has none to offer； but Nature， whose sweet rains fall on just and unjust alike， will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide， and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling， and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt： she will cleanse me in great waters， and with bitter herbs make me whole.” [Oscar Wilde， De Profundis]