"It was a great pity," he said, "that Wilde ever got into prison, a
great pity."

I was pushing at an open door; besides the year or so which had elapsed
since the condemnation had given time for reflection. Still, Sir Ruggles
Brise's attitude was extraordinary, sympathetic at once and high-minded:
another true Englishman at the head of affairs: infinite hope in that
fact, and solace.

I had stuck to my text that something should be done at once to give
Oscar courage and hope; he must not be murdered or left to despair.

Sir Ruggles Brise asked me finally if I would go to Reading and report
on Oscar Wilde's condition and make any suggestion that might occur to
me. He did not know if this could be arranged; but he would see the Home
Secretary and would recommend it, if I were willing. Of course I was
willing, more than willing. Two or three days later, I got another
letter from him with another appointment, and again I went to see him.
He received me with charming kindness. The Home Secretary would be glad
if I would go down to Reading and report on Oscar Wilde's state.

"Everyone," said Sir Ruggles Brise, "speaks with admiration and delight
of his wonderful talents. The Home Secretary thinks it would be a great
loss to English literature if he were really injured by the prison
discipline. Here is your order to see him alone, and a word of
introduction to the Governor, and a request to give you all
information."

I could not speak. I could only shake hands with him in silence.