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it was inaugurated, however, the lifts were not completed, and Eiffel’s party took more than an hour to climb the 1,710 steps to the summit.

      It has since attracted 250 million visitors and become perhaps the best-known symbol of France. Not everyone, however, became reconciled to its charm. The writer Guy de Maupassant was said to have lunched in one of its four restaurants (French, Flemish, Russian and Anglo-American) every day because only there could he not see the Tower.

       THE TRIALS OF OSCAR WILDE

      27 May 1895

      The question which the jury had to decide was whether [Oscar] Wilde was guilty of the charge made against him. His Lordship reviewed the evidence which had been given in the case, and pointed out to the jury the questions for their consideration. There was only evidence as to one of the counts in reference to St James’s-place.

      The jury retired to consider their verdict at half-past 3 o’clock, and at 26 minutes past 5 o’clock they returned and asked a question in reference to the evidence as to St. James’s-place.

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS read his note of the evidence of a witness on the subject, and the jury retired again, but returned into Court about five minutes afterwards and said they found Wilde Guilty on all the counts except that which charged him in respect to Edward Shelley, upon which they found him Not guilty. That count, it will be remembered, was withdrawn from the jury by Mr. Justice Wills on Thursday.

      The announcement of the verdict was greeted with a cry of “Shame” in a portion of the Court reserved for the public.

      The defendant Taylor was then placed in the dock.

      SIR EDWARD CLARKE asked Mr. Justice Wills not to pass sentence until next sessions, as there was a demurrer [objection] to be argued in reference to the indictment.

      Mr. J. P. GRAIN, who appeared for the defendant Taylor, said that the argument of the demurrer would affect Taylor equally, and he therefore made the same application as Sir Edward Clarke.

      The SOLICITOR-GENERAL opposed the application. The passing of sentence now would not interfere with the argument of the demurrer.

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS. – There was a verdict of “not guilty”.

      SIR EDWARD CLARKE. – That does not affect it.

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS. – What is the objection?

      SIR EDWARD CLARKE. – That the indictment is bad?

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS. – What is the point?

      SIR EDWARID CLARKE. – The point is the joining of two sets of counts on one set of which the defendants could be called as witnesses and on the other could not.

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS said that, as the passing of sentence now would not affect the argument of the demurrer, he thought it his duty to complete the proceedings here.

      MR. JUSTICE WILLS, addressing Wilde and Taylor, said that it had never been his lot to try a case of this kind so bad. One had to put stern constraint upon oneself to prevent oneself from describing in language which he would rather not use the sentiments which must rise in the breast of every man who had any spark of decent feeling in him and who had heard the details of these two terrible trials. He could not do anything except pass the severest sentence which the law allowed, and in his judgment it, was totally inadequate to such a case as this. The sentence was that each of them be imprisoned and kept to hard labour for two years.

      On the sentence being pronounced there were cries of “Shame” and hisses in Court.

      In 1895, Oscar Wilde was at the peak of his fame as a writer and playwright; The Importance of Being Earnest opened in London in February that year. He was almost as well-known for his aesthetic ideas and willingness to flout convention. This extended to his private life, for although he was married, Wilde was also homosexual and at the time (and until 1967) sexual acts between men were treated as crimes.

      When the Marquess of Queensberry, the father of Wilde’s lover Lord Alfred Douglas, accused him publicly of sodomy, Wilde prosecuted him for libel. Since there was ample evidence that the Marquess’s allegation was true, this proved disastrous for Wilde, who in April 1895 lost the case and was bankrupted by having to pay his adversary’s costs.

      He was then arrested a few days later on charges of gross indecency. The jury at a first trial could not reach a verdict, but at a second Wilde and his friend Alfred Taylor were convicted. After his release from Reading Gaol in 1897, Wilde sailed to France, where he died three years later, aged 46.

       THE DIAMOND JUBILEE

      23 June 1897

      By this time all those who intended to witness the procession had taken their places. Every stand in the Strand was packed, and though many window seats were still to be let in the morning, they appeared all to be occupied now. At last the vast good-tempered multitude in the Strand was rewarded for its hours of patient watching. At 10.20 the head of the colonial procession reached Temple Bar. Lord Roberts, the Indian and colonial mounted troops and infantry, and the colonial Premiers were received with a roar of cheering, and it is difficult to say who were the favourites of the populace, so hearty was the welcome extended to all. It was a little after half-past 10 when the last colonials had trooped by the Griffin. The Royal procession followed close on them; but after the Life Guards, Dragoon Guards, and two batteries of horse artillery had passed there was a long check until 11.15, when the bugles sounded to mount, the bands struck up, and the procession proceeded. It was a strong-lunged crowd, and it had evidently carefully studied the programme of the procession, for most of our own generals and our distinguished guests were recognized, called to by name, and cheered individually. The enthusiasm was intense, and, at any rate on the portion of the route, international jealousies were forgotten for the time, and everyone who had come over to honour our Queen by taking part in this procession was cheered with a will.

      Just before midday a loud roar of cheering announced the approach of the Queen, and soon the State carriage drew up by the Griffin, where the Lord Mayor and his deputation, on foot, bareheaded, were awaiting her Majesty. The interesting ceremony of the presentation of the sword did not occupy a minute. This handsome sword in its pearl-covered scabbard, which has been presented by successive Lord Mayors at this very spot to many sovereigns, from Queen Elizabeth’s time to the present day, was handed to the Lord Mayor by the City Sword-bearer, with a low obeisance. Sir George Faudel-Phillips held the hilt towards her Majesty, who merely touched it, and ordered him to lead the way into the City. The Lord Mayor with considerable alacrity hurried to the spot south of the Griffin where he had left his horse, mounted it and rode off eastward bareheaded holding the sword aloft. The spirited steed caracoled away at a great pace, to the great amusement of the crowd, and it was noticed that the Queen, the Princess of Wales, and the Princess Christian joined in the merriment. But the present Lord Mayor is an expert horseman, and sat his animal well.

      The night before in Fleet-street the people passed to and fro, and the noise of the ceaseless traffic mingled with shouts and songs produced one continuous roar. The night was cloudy, but the moon peeped out at times through the driving clouds. When the blue dawn crept imperceptibly above the houses the street presented a curious and unwonted sight. The yellow gas lamps were still blazing, but in the light of the coming day the faces of the people looked wan. Down the street a stream of wagons, omnibuses, brakes, and hansoms, full of sightseers, made their way along the line of route, retarding the progress of the newspaper carts as they rattled along to catch the mails. Every now and then bands of youths or men trooped by singing “God Save the Queen” to a cacophonous accompaniment; many of these carried flags, while others bore youngsters on their shoulders. Factory girls, arm in arm, danced upon the pavements; women seated upon hand-barrows were wheeled along in triumph by men; youths with pasteboard noses and painted faces played pranks in the roadway. These were the harmless saturnalia which took place as the dawn was breaking. Before