Was Oscar Wilde Interviewed While In prison?
by John Cooper
With the kind assistance and guidance
of Rob Marland and Matthew Sturgis. *
The artist Banksy has recently demonstrated that deliverance from Reading Gaol remains a popular concept. But, as you might imagine, Oscar Wilde’s real life liberation from the prison was an even more newsworthy event back in 1897.
Oscar himself attested to the potential for a public invasion of his privacy. This is what he wrote to his dear friend, Reggie Turner, just prior to his release:
Already the American interviewer and the English journalist have arrived in Reading: the Governor of the Prison has just shown me a letter from an American interviewer stating that he will be here with a carriage on Wednesday morning for me, and offering any sum I like if I will breakfast with him! Is it not appalling?
(Complete Letters, 829).
The archive photograph of Reading Gaol (above) curiously portends such a carriage handover. But, of course, no interview took place outside Reading prison—appalling breakfast or otherwise—nor could it, because Wilde was not discharged from the prison system at Reading. He was spirited 44 miles away to be released from Pentonville Prison in London, his first place of incarceration.
This subterfuge, and others along the way, protected Wilde’s seclusion well enough, and so history has chronicled Wilde’s removal from Reading free from the Fourth Estate.
But now it is time to reconsider the event—particularly for those who might underestimate the doggedness of the Victorian press. Could it really be possible that, in fact, there exists a hitherto forgotten prison interview?
As remarkable as this sounds, it appears that a media dialogue of sorts could have taken place with Wilde at Reading Gaol.
—THE POWER THAT IS IN ME WILL RESUME ITS SWAY—
In anticipation of Wilde’s impending release from prison on May 19, 1897, journalists began to gather in the town of Reading in search of a story. But there was one scribe who had had his finger of the local penitentiary pulse for some time.
That man was the trusty American reporter Frank Marshall White, currently the London correspondent for William Randolph Hearst’s New York Journal—and thus wireman to all of the other US-syndicated titles of the Hearst Corporation.
In May 1897, White was stationed in Reading with an evident a zeal for ‘inside’ knowledge of Wilde’s temporary abode. For at least a week before the ballyhoo really began, White had been reporting, albeit with varying degrees of accuracy, Oscar’s daily routine at Reading (and Wandsworth). He noted Wilde’s grueling diet, his prison chores, his current weight, the length of his hair, and his still clean-shaven state of appearance. He also revealed the name of Wilde’s prison chaplain (M. T. Friend) to whom, it can be inferred, he had spoken. 
But as Wilde’s release date approached, hard news was still thin on the ground.
So what was going on? We now know that in his last few days in his cell at Reading, Wilde was busy continuing his correspondence with Ernest Leverson about financial matters. He also wrote two long letters to Reggie Turner making arrangements for his post-prison life; another to More Adey; yet another to Robert Ross; and finally a note to his kindly warder, Thomas Martin, offering to pay to have some hungry children released from the horrors of prison remand.
Clearly, Wilde was preparing to leave Reading. The question was when?
The word on Fleet Street was that Wilde might be moved from Reading before his official release. Accordingly, Frank White connected the grapevine wires to his readers with the news that: “reporters were swarming in Reading today, as it is rumored that Wilde’s friends will obtain permission from the Home Office to remove him secretly from the prison before his term has entirely expired.” [And, of course, this is precisely what happened.]
So to Frank White in Reading, possibly charged with gaining a first-hand interview, it was becoming increasingly conspicuous that all he had offered his editor so far was second-hand gossip.
It was time for action. It was time for London journalist, Robert Batho.
Robert Batho, a freelance journalist in England (and later an editor and author in Canada), was a contributor to several newspapers including London’s Evening News. He was apparently possessed of a Zelig-like ability where Oscar Wilde was concerned, and claimed to have been the source behind verified interviews with Wilde on three earlier “epochs” (as he called them) in Wilde’s career. 
Just the man, therefore, to join forces with Frank White at Reading Gaol.
Consequently, White and Batho, formed a transatlantic alliance, and they are most likely “the American interviewer and the English journalist” whose letter the Governor had shown to Wilde requesting the post-prison interview—a request no doubt denied.
Denied, yes, but Batho was not to be rebuffed. Perhaps leveraging his track record with Wilde, or by simple ingenuity, the English journalist apparently sought to eke out an alternative form of access.
White consequently published the “interview” explaining how it came about:
IN CARCERE, ET IN DIURNA?
The result was a short interview with Wilde which White sent via special cable to New York where it appeared in the morning edition of The New York Journal.
Later Hearst imprints, with the advantage of the time delay, such as the San Francisco Examiner, and the one below from the Buffalo Evening News of May 17, 1897, identify Batho as the person who conducted the interview and it also expands on his history with Wilde.
Note about the text: This is the most common text of the interview in which some questions are implied by conflating answers, a style common in interviews and court reporting. In some other versions, however, (for instance in The Chicago Tribune), the same interview is given as a more verbatim conversation.
What are we to make of the “prison interview”?
Whether Batho actually gained entry to the prison or, perhaps, merely handed in written questions at the gate and was given a written reply, does not seem to matter as much as the idea of his using an intermediary—which does appeal as it might have allowed the Governor to bend the visitation rules without breaking them.
In evaluating the interview, these are the points to be considered, and on balance they generally favor plausibility:
—The unusual collaboration of White and Batho bears out “the American interviewer and the English journalist” in the letter shown to Wilde on the same day as the interview.
—If the Governor, Major Nelson, had been inclined to deny all communication with his prisoner, why would he have shown the letter to Wilde at all, if there was nothing to be gained from it?
—Although copyrighting articles was a growing practice at the time, on this occasion the publisher himself, William Randolph Hearst, thought enough of the interview to append his own name to the claim to copyright.
—Frank Marshall White was career journalist  with no record of anything other than solid journalism. It must be said, however, that Robert Batho has a history of operating somewhat under the radar of authorship, and was not averse to self-aggrandizement.
—If the interview is not genuine, it would have been an extremely clever and elaborate hoax, because the claims in it are so reserved and abbreviated. And there is nothing in it that is obviously wrong; indeed the language and assertions have a ring of truth.
—For instance, Wilde is quoted as placing himself in the hands of his friends, which he did do. Further, Wilde is tentative about his plans, which was also the case: while arrangements were made for his immediate departure to France, Wilde was doubtful about it and considered seeking seclusion and solace in a Catholic retreat in London—which he actually attempted and was refused. (Sturgis p. 628). There seems to be no other way for Batho to have known any of these, and other, details before, or even after Wilde’s release.
—Finally, and perhaps most strikingly, Wilde was asked if he will write under his own name. “Most assuredly,” he says, “as presently disposed” First, why would Wilde say “most assuredly” if he never intended, and never did, write under his own name? Is it not the case that the assurance of Wilde’s imperative is in what he goes on to say, that he would write “most assuredly as presently disposed“. It is difficult to see what else Wilde could have meant by this expression other than what came to pass. That he was presently disposed in prison where he was known by his prison cell number C.3.3., the name under which he published his first written work after prison: The Ballad of Reading Gaol. And so. most assuredly Wilde did continue write as he was presently disposed
© John Cooper, 2021
 ‘Wilde Will Soon Be Free,’ Buffalo Evening News, May 10, 1897, p. 19.
 Robert Batho had a long career in journalism in England and Canada. For details of this “prison interview” and his previously attributed encounters with Wilde, see Robert Marland’s forthcoming Oscar Wilde, The Complete Interviews, (2021).
 FRANK MARSHALL WHITE
Reporter Buffalo Evening News, 1881, New York Times, 1882-1885. Editorial writer New York Commercial Advertiser, 1885-1887. Literature editor Life, 1887-1889. London correspondent New York Sun, 1889-1893. Later divided his time between Europe and United States as editor or correspondent of New York newspapers. Editor Paris edition of New York Times during exposition of 1900. Author of many stories and sketches in American and English magazines and periodicals.
The sketch of Wilde in prison at the top is from The Illustrated Police Budget with the caption: Can you imagine what the mental and physical sufferings of a man of the Oscar Wilde temperament must be?’
Rob Marland’s work on Oscar Wilde includes graphic novels, blogging, and audiobook recordings:
The prison interview has taken its place in Rob Marland’s fine two volume compendium Oscar Wilde, The Complete Interviews (2021).: https://robmarland.co.uk/wildeints/
Matthew Sturgis is a historian, critic, and the acclaimed biographer of Oscar: A Life (2018).
20 thoughts on “Wilde’s Prison Interview?”
Another cracking blog, John. “Under the radar” indeed!
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Thank you. Another good one! Can you replace the ‘qq’ in Major James Osmond Nelson (qq.11.1859-1914.10.9), Governor of Reading Gaol.
“It was time for action.” Indeed. Very thought provoking article.
Great find. It is certainly an understated little article if it was trying to make a big, sensational splash. But then, it is Hearst, so you do have to wonder a bit. The tone, and his ideas about what his future held, seems very different from prison writings like De Profundis, but expecting Wilde to be consistent is foolhardy. It strikes me that it is actually a different tone for an interview with Wilde in general. He’s not promoting anything, not a new play or book or even himself. I wonder what his motivation would be to do the interview? He seemed, at that time, to be averse to public attention. Solicitors of the period sometimes covered legal fees by arrangements with newspapers, smuggling reporters’ questions to their high profile clients in prison. Arthur Newton, who acted as Alfred Taylor’s solicitor, did some of this. (I’m not suggesting he had any connection to Wilde, just that I just finished up a book on Newton so that’s why I’m familiar with this.) The way this arrangement was described, with Batho in one room, Wilde in another and Nelson conveying messages between them for publication seems unusual to me. The journalists trying to get the first post-prison interview with Wilde could be someone’s next Wilde book.
My feeling is that Wilde and Nelson’s motivation might have been the hope that the interview would satisfy the reporters and dissuade them from attempting to ambush Wilde on his release. If so, I suspect it would have been an error in judgment. Another possibility is that they were hoping to throw the reporters off the scent by feeding them false information about Wilde’s release. The Chicago Daily Tribune version ends with: “Wilde will be released from prison, according to present arrangements, between 6:30 and 7 o’clock on Wednesday morning, when he will be met by Frank Harris, who intends to take him in a cab to Windsor, fourteen miles distant, for breakfast.” They might have been fed this (or part of this) by Nelson, who would have known it was untrue.
Would those U.S.papers have been read in England to throw the people who were there off the scent?
Oh, I meant specifically White and Batho rather than their readers. But it’s also possible that Nelson/Wilde didn’t realise the report would only be published in the US.
Hi Laura—taking your points separately.I’m not quite sure what you’re saying about Hearst, but are you agreeing with my suggestion that the interview is lent credence by not being sensational?
I wasn’t really making a conclusion, more spitballing, just throwing both data points out there; That its lack of sensation makes it feel more credible but also that my main association with Hearst is the apocryphal “you furnish the pictures and I’ll furnish the war.” Reflecting a bit more, I would say it doesn’t really read like a hyped up treatment. A lot of the sensational famous criminal reporting would have an article in previous editions hyping it, telling people to be sure to pick up the paper on a certain day because they would get Crippen’s confessions or some such thing. Do you know if the paper did anything like that? It could be that Wilde was seen as a bit distasteful to the public and getting a glimpse of him was a bit like… Say a post ME Too piece on what Louis C.K. or Kevin Spacey is doing now. Interesting enough to cover but not a huge sensational story.
There’s nothing in it to make me seriously doubt it. I’m more curious about the story behind it. I’m more skeptical about how it says the interview took place than its content. I can imagine, for example, a reporter getting information from the warden, “What is he planning?” “What did he say to you?” And then putting it in an interview form.
Re: tone. I wouldn’t expect any consistency of tone between this interview and De Profundis. To different animals: this interview, on the verge of his release, were the first thoughts we have of his about the realities of the outside world; whereas he had finished the prison letter at this point and probably thought of it as a catharsis belonging to the depths of his prison introspection.
I wasn’t thinking so much of the style of the interview vs. the literary work. I was thinking a bit more about what it seemed as though he imagined for his future when writing De Profundis, and letters to friends, compared to what he said for the public in the interview. It’s a different voice, and a different message, which is interesting.
Right, but I had in mind more than a difference in literary style. I meant to imply a separation of attitudes: that to a large extent De Profundis was an exercise of lonely and desperate introspection (and possibly why he hardly, if ever, mentioned it again, including curiously to Bosie post-prison), and his aspirations in it are understandably more philosophical. I see the interview as the first written beginning of Wilde returning to the practicalities of the real world. A different mindset informed the message.
Re: motivation. Leaving aside any consideration paid by the press to Wilde or the Governor, I think it’s too much to assume Wilde was ‘motivated’ to do the interview. Acquiescence is what I sense. Being paraded to a public breakfast was too much—obviously. But perhaps Wilde felt that the more polite request for a few words was an acceptable temptation for an imprisoned man to begin a tentative transition to the outside world.
By motivated I just meant what made him decide to do it. Maybe he did think that if he answered the questions it would diffuse the curiosity and they’d leave him alone.
Yes, I agree, that may well have been a factor.
I didn’t know that about smuggling Solicitors — interesting — but given the timeline of events it probably didn’t apply in this case. As for the separate rooms idea, I would like to know what the regulations were for face-to-face interviews. Besides, it may not have been quite so formal as it sounds. Let’s say Batho was admitted into the prison but not very far. He gave written questions to an official (perhaps for a consideration) who said “wait here, I’ll see what I can do”. He approached the Governor, who was friendly towards Wilde, who solicited the responses. Maybe it was one set of questions, or several, but after a while Batho was told “that’s all you’re getting”. These facts would fit the exchange being written up into the “interview” as published.
It would be interesting to know what the rules were for that sort of thing. The case I’m most familiar with, Arthur Newton being suspended from law for his dealings with the media surrounding the Crippen trial, aren’t entirely equivalent as one was a condemned man and the other was about to be released.
I especially like the line “I do not intend to efface myself.”
Ah! But, in the Chicago Tribune version with the more verbatim exchange, that line goes:
“”Allow me to ask you bluntly, you do not intend to efface yourself?”
“I do not. I shall get to work again before long, the moment I feel well enough.”
This version gives the whole interview a different feel—and I think I’ll blog that in a follow-up.
It’s ok. I still like it.