VOLUME VIII slice II Demijohn to Destructor (continued 6)

The British legislature, making a virtue of necessity, discovered that transportation to the colonies was bound to be attended by various inconveniences, particularly by depriving the kingdom of many subjects whose labour might be useful to the community; and an act was accordingly passed which provides that convicts sentenced to transportation might be employed at hard labour at home. At the same time the consideration of some scheme for their disposal was entrusted to three eminent public men—Sir William Blackstone, Mr Eden (afterwards Lord Auckland) and John Howard. The result of their labours was an act for the establishment of penitentiary houses, dated 1778. This act is of peculiar importance. It contains the first public enunciation of a general principle of prison treatment, and shows that even at that early date the system since nearly universally adopted was fully understood. The object in view was thus stated. It was hoped “by sobriety, cleanliness and medical assistance, by a regular series of labour, by solitary confinement during the intervals of work and by due religious instruction to preserve and amend the health of the unhappy offenders, to inure them to habits of industry, to guard them from pernicious company, to accustom them to serious reflection and to teach them both the principles and practice of every Christian and moral duty.” The experience of succeeding years has added little to these the true principles of penal discipline; they form the basis of every species of prison system carried out since the passing of an act of 1779.

No immediate action was taken by the committee appointed. Its members were not in accord as to the choice of site. One was for Islington, another for Limehouse; Howard only stipulated for some healthy place well supplied with water and conveniently situated for supervision. He was strongly of opinion that the penitentiary should be built by convict labour. Howard withdrew from the commission, and new members were appointed, who were on the eve of beginning the first penitentiary when the discoveries of Captain Cook in the South Seas turned the attention of the government towards these new lands. The vast territories Australian penal settlements. of Australasia promised an unlimited field for convict colonization, and for the moment the scheme for penitentiary houses fell to the ground. Public opinion generally preferred the idea of establishing penal settlements at a distance from home. “There was general confidence,” says Merivale in his work on colonization, “in the favourite theory that the best mode of punishing offenders was that which removed them from the scene of offence and temptation, cut them off by a great gulf of space from all their former connexions, and gave them the opportunity of redeeming past crimes by becoming useful members of society.” These views so far prevailed that an expedition consisting of nine transports and two men-of-war, the “first fleet” of Australian annals, sailed in March 1787 for New South Wales. This first fleet reached Botany Bay in January 1788, but passed on and landed at Port Jackson, where it entered and occupied Sydney harbour. From that time forward convicts were sent in constantly increasing numbers from England to the Antipodes. Yet the early settlement at Sydney had not greatly prospered. The infant colony had had a bitter struggle for existence. It had been hoped that the community would raise its own produce and speedily become self-supporting. But the soil was unfruitful; the convicts knew nothing of farming. All lived upon rations sent out from home; and when convoys with relief lingered by the way famine stared all in the face. The colony was long a penal settlement and nothing more, peopled only by two classes, convicts and their masters; criminal bondsmen on the one hand who had forfeited their independence and were bound to labour without wages for the state, on the other officials to guard and exact the due performance of tasks. A few free families were encouraged to emigrate, but they were lost in the mass they were intended to leaven, swamped and outnumbered by the convicts, shiploads of whom continued to pour in year after year. When the influx increased, difficulties as to their employment arose. Free settlers were too few to give work to more than a small proportion. Moreover, a new policy was in the ascendant, initiated by Governor Macquarie, who considered the convicts and their rehabilitation his chief care, and steadily discouraged the immigration of any but those who “came out for their country’s good.” The great bulk of the convict labour thus remained in government hands.

This period marked the first phase in the history of transportation. The penal colony, having triumphed over early dangers and difficulties, was crowded with convicts in a state of semi-freedom, maintained at the public expense and utilized in the development of the latent resources of the country. The methods employed by Governor Macquarie were not, perhaps, invariably the best; the time was hardly ripe as yet for the erection of palatial buildings in Sydney, while the congregation of the workmen in large bodies tended greatly to their demoralization. But some of the works undertaken and carried out were of incalculable service to the young colony; and its early advance in wealth and prosperity was greatly due to the magnificent roads, bridges and other facilities of inter-communication for which it was indebted to Governor Macquarie. As time passed the criminal sewage flowing from the Old World to the New greatly increased in volume under milder and more humane laws. Many now escaped the gallows, and much of the overcrowding of the gaols at home was caused by the gangs of convicts awaiting transhipment to the Antipodes. They were packed off, however, with all convenient despatch, and the numbers on government hands in the colonies multiplied exceedingly, causing increasing embarrassment as to their disposal. Moreover, the expense of the Australian convict establishments was enormous.

Some change in system was inevitable, and the plan of “assignment” was introduced; in other words, that of freely lending the convicts to any who would relieve the authorities of the burdensome Assignment system. charge. By this time free settlers were arriving in greater number, invited by a different and more liberal policy than that of Governor Macquarie. Inducements were especially offered to persons possessed of capital to assist in the development of the country. Assignment developed rapidly; soon eager competition arose for the convict hands that had been at first so reluctantly taken. Great facilities existed for utilizing them on the wide areas of grazing land and on the new stations in the interior. A pastoral life, without temptations and contaminating influences, was well suited for convicts. As the colony grew richer and more populous, other than agricultural employers became assignees, and numerous enterprises were set on foot. The trades and callings which minister to the needs of all civilized communities were more and more largely pursued. There was plenty of work for skilled convicts in the towns, and the services of the more intelligent were highly prized. It was a great boon to secure gratis the assistance of men specially trained as clerks, book-keepers or handicraftsmen. Hence all manner of intrigues and manœuvres were afoot on the arrival of drafts and there was a scramble for the best hands. Here at once was a palpable flaw in the system of assignment. The lot of the convict was altogether unequal. Some, the dull, unlettered and unskilled, were drafted up country to heavy manual labour at which they remained, while clever expert rogues found pleasant, congenial and often profitable employment in the towns. The contrast was very marked from the first, but it became the more apparent when in due course it was seen that some were still engaged in irksome toil, while others who had come out by the same ship had already attained to affluence and ease. For the latter transportation was no punishment, but often the reverse. It meant too often transfer to a new world under conditions more favourable to success, removed from the keener competition of the old. By adroit management, too, convicts often obtained the command of funds, the product of nefarious transactions at home, which wives or near relatives or unconvicted accomplices presently brought out to them. It was easy for the free new-comers to secure the assignment of their convict friends; and the latter, although still nominally servants and in the background, at once assumed the real control. Another system productive of much evil was the employment of convict clerks in positions of trust in various government offices; convicts did much of the legal work of the colony; a convict was clerk to the attorney general; others were schoolmasters and were entrusted with the education of youth.

Under a system so anomalous and uncertain the main object of transportation as a method of penal discipline and repression was in danger of being quite overlooked. Yet the state Evils of convict system. could not entirely abdicate its functions, although it surrendered to a great extent the care of criminals to private persons. It had established a code of penalties for the coercion of the ill-conducted, while it kept the worst perforce in its own hands. The master was always at liberty to appeal to the strong arm of the law. A message carried to a neighbouring magistrate, often by the culprit himself, brought down the prompt retribution of the lash. Convicts might be flogged for petty offences, for idleness, drunkenness, turbulence, absconding and so forth. At the out-stations some show of decorum and regularity was observed, although the work done was generally scanty and the convicts were secretly given to all manner of evil courses. The town convicts were worse, because they were far less controlled. They were nominally under the surveillance and supervision of the police, which amounted to nothing at all. They came and went, and amused themselves after working hours, so that Sydney and all the large towns were hotbeds of vice and immorality. The masters as a rule made no attempt to watch over their charges; many of them were absolutely unfitted to do so, being themselves of low character, “emancipists” frequently, old convicts conditionally pardoned or who had finished their terms. No effort was made to prevent the assignment of convicts to improper persons; every applicant got what he wanted, even though his own character would not bear inspection. All whom the masters could not manage—the incorrigible upon whom the lash and bread and water had been tried in vain—were returned to government charge. These, in short, comprised the whole of the refuse of colonial convictdom. Every man who could not agree with his master, or who was to undergo a penalty greater than flogging or less than capital punishment, came back to government and was disposed of in one of three ways, (1) the road parties, (2) the chain gang, or (3) the penal settlements. (1) In the first case, the convicts might be kept in the vicinity of the towns or marched about the country according to the work in hand; the labour was severe, but, owing to inefficient supervision, never intolerable; the diet was ample and there was no great restraint upon independence within certain wide limits. To the slackness of control over the road parties was directly traceable the frequent escape of desperadoes, who, defying recapture, recruited the gangs of bushrangers which were a constant terror to the whole country. In (2) the chain or iron gangs, as they were sometimes styled, discipline was far more rigorous. It was maintained by the constant presence of a military guard, and when most efficiently organized the gang was governed by a military officer who was also a magistrate. The work was really hard, the custody close—in hulk, stockaded barrack or caravan; the first was at Sydney, the second in the interior, the last when the undertaking required constant change of place. All were locked up from sunset to sunrise; all wore heavy leg irons; and all were liable to immediate flagellation. The convict “scourger” was one of the regular officials attached to every chain gang. (3) The third and ultimate receptacle was the penal settlement, to which no offenders were transferred till all other methods of treatment had failed. These were terrible cesspools of iniquity, so bad that it seemed, to use the words of one who knew them well, that “the heart of a man who went to them was taken from him and he was given that of a beast.” The horrors accumulated at Norfolk Island, Moreton Bay, Port Arthur and Tasman’s Peninsula are almost beyond description. The convicts herded together in them were soon utterly degraded and brutalized; no wonder that reckless despair took possession of them, that death on the gallows for murder purposely committed, or the slow terror from starvation following escape into surrounding wilds was often welcomed as a relief.

The stage which transportation was now reaching and the actual condition of affairs in the Australian colonies about this period do not appear to have been much understood in England. Earnest and thoughtful men might busy themselves with prison discipline at home, and the legislature might watch with peculiar interest the results obtained from the special treatment of a limited number of selected offenders in Millbank penitentiary. But for the great mass of criminality deported to a distant shore no very active concern was shown. The country for a long time seemed satisfied with transportation. Portions of the system might be open to criticism. Thus the Commons committee of 1832 freely condemned the hulks at Woolwich and other arsenals in which a large number of convicts were kept while waiting embarkation. It was reported that the indiscriminate association of prisoners in them produced more vice, profaneness and demoralization than in the ordinary prisons. After dark the wildest orgies went on unchecked—dancing, fighting, gambling, singing and so forth; it was easy to get drink and tobacco and to see friends from outside. The labour hours were short and the tasks light; “altogether the situation of the convict in the hulks,” says the report, “cannot be considered penal; it is a state of restriction, but hardly of punishment.”

But no objection was raised to transportation. It was considered by this same committee “a most valuable expedient in the system of secondary punishment.” They only thought it necessary to suggest that exile should be preceded by a period of severe probationary punishment in England, a proposal which was reiterated later on and actually adopted. It was in the country most closely affected that dissatisfaction first began to find voice. Already in 1832 the most reputable sections of Australian society were beginning to murmur grievously. Transportation had fostered the growth of a strong party—that representing convict views—and these were advocated boldly in Australian objections. unprincipled prints. This party, constantly recruited from the emancipists and ticket-of-leave holders, gradually grew very numerous, and threatened soon to swamp the honest and untainted parts of the community. As years passed the prevalence of crime, and the universally low tone of morality due to the convict element, became more and more in the ascendant. At length in 1835 Judge Burton made a loud protest, and in a charge to the grand jury of Sydney plainly intimated that transportation must cease. While it existed, he said, the colonies could never rise to their proper position; they could not claim free institutions. This bold but forcible language commanded attention. It was speedily echoed in England, and particularly by Archbishop Whately, who argued that transportation failed in all the leading requisites of any system of secondary punishment. Transportation exercised no salutary terror in offenders; it was no longer exile to an unknown inhospitable region, but to one flowing with milk and honey, whither innumerable friends and associates had gone already. The most glowing descriptions came back of the wealth which any clever fellow might easily amass; stories were told and names mentioned of those who had made ample fortunes in Australia in a few years. As a matter of fact the convicts, or at least large numbers of them, had prospered exceedingly. Some had incomes of twenty, thirty, even forty thousand pounds a year. The deteriorating effects of the system were plainly manifest on the surface from the condition of the colony,—the profligacy of the towns, the scant reprobation of crimes and those who had committed them. Down below, in the openly sanctioned slavery called assignment, in the demoralizing chain gangs and in the inexpressibly horrible penal settlements, were more abundant and more awful proofs of the general wickedness and corruption. Moreover these appalling results were accompanied by colossal expenditure. The cost of the colonial convict establishments, with the passages out, amounted annually to upwards of £300,000; another £100,000 was expended on the military garrisons; and various items brought the whole outlay to about half a million per annum. It may be argued that this was not a heavy price to pay for peopling a continent and laying the foundations of a vast Australasian empire. But that empire could never have expanded to its present dimensions if it had depended on convict immigration alone. There was a point, too, at which all development, all progress, would have come to a full stop had it not been relieved of its stigma as a penal colony.

That point was reached between 1835 and 1840, when a powerful party came into existence in New South Wales, pledged to bring about the abandonment of transportation. A strongly hostile feeling was also gaining ground in England. In 1837 Reform movement. a new committee of the House of Commons had made a patient and searching investigation into the merits and demerits of the system and freely condemned it. The government had no choice but to give way; it could not ignore the protests of the colonists, backed up by such an authoritative expression of opinion. In 1840 orders were issued to suspend the deportation of criminals to New South Wales. But what was to become of the convicts? It was impossible to keep them at home. The hulks which might have served had also failed; the faultiness of their internal management had been fully proved. The committee had recommended the erection of more penitentiaries. But the costly experiment of Millbank had been barren of results. The model prison at Pentonville, in process of construction under the pressure of a movement towards prison reform, could offer but limited accommodation. A proposal was put forward to construct convict barracks in the vicinity of the great arsenals; but this, which contained really the germ of the present British penal system, was premature. The government in this dilemma steered a middle course and resolved to adhere to transportation, but under a greatly modified and it was hoped much improved form. The colony of Van Diemen’s Land, younger and less self-reliant than its neighbour, had also endured convict immigration but had made no protest. It was resolved to direct the whole stream of deportation upon Van Diemen’s Land, which was thus constituted one vast colonial prison. The main principle of the new system was one of probation; hence its name. All convicts were to pass through various stages and degrees of punishment according to their conduct and character. Some general depot was needed where the necessary observation could be made, and it was found at Millbank penitentiary. Thence boys were sent to the prison for juveniles at Parkhurst; the most promising subjects among the adults were selected to undergo the experimental discipline of solitude and separation at Pentonville; less hopeful cases went to the hulks; and all adults alike passed on to the Antipodes. Fresh stages awaited the convict on his arrival at Van Diemen’s Land. The first was limited to “lifers” and colonial convicts sentenced a second time. It consisted in detention at one of the penal stations, either Norfolk Island or Tasman’s Peninsula, where the disgraceful conditions already described continued unchanged to the very last. The second stage received the largest number, who were subjected in it to gang labour, working under restraint in various parts of the colony. These probation stations, as they were called, were intended to inculcate habits of industry and subordination; they were provided with supervisors and religious instructors; and had they not been tainted by the vicious virus brought to them by others arriving from the penal stations, they might have answered their purpose for a time. But they became as bad as the worst of the penal settlements and contributed greatly to the breakdown of the whole system. The third stage and the first step towards freedom was the concession of a pass which permitted the convict to be at large under certain conditions to seek work for himself; the fourth was a ticket-of-leave, the possession of which allowed him to come and go much as he pleased; the fifth and last was absolute pardon, with the prospects of rehabilitation.

This scheme seemed admirable on paper; yet it failed completely when put into practice. Colonial resources were quite unable to bear the pressure. Within two or three years Gradual abandonment. Van Diemen’s Land was inundated with convicts. Sixteen thousand were sent out in four years; the average annual number in the colony was about 30,000, and this when there were only 37,000 free settlers. Half the whole number of convicts remained in government hands and were kept in the probation gangs, engaged upon public works of great utility; but the other half, pass-holders and ticket-of-leave men in a state of semi-freedom, could get little or no employment. The supply greatly exceeded the demand; there were no hirers of labour. Had the colony been as large and as prosperous as its neighbour it could scarcely have absorbed the glut of workmen; but it was really on the verge of bankruptcy—its finances were embarrassed, its trades and industries at a standstill. But not only were the convicts idle; they were utterly depraved. It was soon found that the system which kept large bodies always together had a most pernicious effect upon their moral condition. “The congregation of criminals in large batches without adequate supervision meant simply wholesale, widespread pollution,” as was said at the time. These ever-present and constantly increasing evils forced the government to reconsider its position; and in 1846 transportation to Van Diemen’s Land was temporarily suspended for a couple of years, during which it was hoped some relief might be afforded. The formation of a new convict colony in North Australia had been contemplated; but the project, warmly espoused by Mr Gladstone, then under-secretary of state for the colonies, was presently abandoned; and it now became clear that no resumption of transportation was possible. The measures taken to substitute other methods of secondary punishment are set forth in the article Prison (q.v.).

France.—France adopted deportation for criminals as far back as 1763, when a penal colony was founded in French Guiana and failed disastrously. An expedition was sent there, composed French practice. of the most evil elements of the Paris population and numbering 14,000, all of whom died. The attempt was repeated in 1766 and with the same miserable result. Other failures are recorded, the worst being the scheme of the philanthropist Baron Milius, who in 1823 planned to form a community on the banks of the Mana (French Guiana) by the marriage of exiled convicts and degraded women, which resulted in the most ghastly horrors. The principle of deportation was then formally condemned by publicists and government until suddenly in 1854 it was reintroduced into the French penal code with many high-sounding phrases. Splendid results were to be achieved in the creation of rich colonies afar, and the regeneration of the criminal by new openings in a new land. The only outlet available at the moment beyond the sea was French Guiana, and it was again to be utilized despite its pestilential climate. Thousands were exiled, more than half to find certain death; none of the penal settlements prospered. No return was made by agricultural development, farms and plantations proved a dead loss under the unfavourable conditions of labour enforced in a malarious climate and unkindly soil, and it was acknowledged by French officials that the attempt to establish a penal colony on the equator was utterly futile. Deportation to Guiana was not abandoned, but instead of native-born French exiles, convicts of subject races, Arabs, Anamites and Asiatic blacks, were sent exclusively, with no better success as regards colonization.

In 1864, however, it was possible to divert the stream elsewhere. New Caledonia in the Australian Pacific was annexed to France in 1853. Ten years later it became a new settlement for convict emigrants. A first shipload was disembarked in 1864 at Noumea, and the foundations of the city laid. Prison buildings were the first erected and were planted upon the island of Nou, a small breakwater to the Bay of Noumea. Outwardly all went well under the fostering care of the authorities. The population steadily increased; an average total of 600 in 1867 rose in the following year to 1554. In 1874 the convict population exceeded 5000; in 1880 it had risen to 8000; the total reached 9608 at the end of December 1883. But from that time forward the numbers transported annually fell, for it was found that this South Pacific island, with its fertile soil and fairly temperate climate, by no means intimidated the dangerous classes; and the French administration therefore resumed deportation of French-born whites to Guiana, which was known as notoriously unhealthy and was likely to act as a more positive deterrent. The authorities divided their exiles between the two outlets, choosing New Caledonia for the convicts who gave some promise of regeneration, and sending criminals with the worst antecedents and presumably incorrigible to the settlements on the equator. This was in effect to hand over a fertile colony entirely to criminals. Free immigration to New Caledonia was checked, and the colony became almost exclusively penal. The natural growth of a prosperous colonial community made no advance, and convict labour did little to stimulate it, the public works, essential for development, and construction of roads were neglected; there was no extensive clearance of lands, no steady development of agriculture. From 1898 simple deportation practically ceased, but the islands were full of convicts already sent, and they still received the product of the latest invention in the criminal code known as “relegation,” a punishment directed against the recidivist or incorrigible criminal whom no penal retribution had hitherto touched and whom the French law felt justified in banishing for ever to the “back of beyond.” A certain period of time spent in a hard labour prison preceded relegation, but the convicts on arrival were generally unfitted to assist in colonization. They were for the most part decadent, morally and physically; their labour was of no substantial value to colonists or themselves, and there was small hope of profitable result when they gained conditional liberation, with a concession of colonial land and a possibility of rehabilitation by their own efforts abroad, for by their sentence they were forbidden to hope for return to France. The punishment of relegation was not long in favour, the number of sentences to it fell year after year, and it has now been practically abandoned.

Other Countries.—Penal exile has been practised by some other countries as a method of secondary punishment. Russia since 1823 has directed a stream of offenders, mainly political, upon Siberia, and at one time the yearly average sent was 18,000. The Siberian exile system, the horrors of which cannot be exaggerated, belongs only in part to penitentiary science, but it was very distinctly punitive and aimed at regeneration of the individual and the development of the soil by new settlements. Although the journey was made mostly on foot and not by sea transport, the principle of deportation (or more exactly of removal) was the essence of the system. The later practice, however, has been exactly similar to transportation as originated by England and afterwards followed by France. The penal colonization of the island of Sakhalin reproduced the preceding methods, and the Russian convicts were conveyed by ships through the Suez Canal to the Far East. Sakhalin was hopefully intended as an outlet for released convicts and their rehabilitation by their own efforts, precisely in the manner tried in Australia and New Caledonia. The result repeated previous experiences. There was land to reclaim, forests to cut down, marshes to drain, everything but a temperate climate and a good will of the felon labourers to create a prosperous colony. But the convicts would not work; a few sought to win the right to occupy a concession of soil, but the bulk were pure vagabonds, wandering to and fro in search of food. The agricultural enterprise was a complete failure. The wrong sites for cultivation were chosen, the labourers were unskilled and they handled very indifferent tools. Want amounting to constant starvation was a constant rule; the rations were insufficient and unwholesome, very little meat eked out with salt fish and with entire absence of vegetables. The general tone of morals was inconceivably low, and a universal passion for alcohol and card-playing prevailed. According to one authority the life of the convicts at Sakhalin was a frightful nightmare, “a mixture of debauchery and innocence mixed with real sufferings and almost inconceivable privations, corrupt in every one of its phases.” The prisons hopelessly ruined all who entered them, all classes were indiscriminately herded together. It is now generally allowed that deportation, as practised, had utterly failed, the chief reasons being the unmanageable numbers sent and the absence of outlets for their employment, even at great cost.

The prisons on Sakhalin have been described as hotbeds of vice; the only classification of prisoners is one based on the length of sentence. Some imperfect attempt is made to separate those waiting trial from the recidivist or hardened offender, but too often the association is indiscriminate. Prison discipline is generally slack and ineffective, the staff of warders, from ill-judged economy, too weak to supervise or control. The officers themselves are of inferior stamp, drunken, untrustworthy, overbearing, much given to “trafficking” with the prisoners, accepting bribes to assist escape, quick to misuse and oppress their charges. Crime of the worst description is common.

Italy has practised deportation in planting various agricultural colonies upon the islands to be found on her coast. They were meant to imitate the intermediate prisons of the Irish system, where prisoners might work out their redemption, when provisionally released. Two were established on the islands of Pianoso and Gorgona, and there were settlements made on Monte Christo and Capraia. They were used also to give effect to the system of enforced residence or domicilio coatto.

Portugal also has tried deportation to the African colony of Angola on a small scale with some success, and combined it with free emigration. The settlers have been represented as well disposed towards the convicts, gladly obtaining their services or helping them in the matter of security. The convict element is orderly, and, although their treatment is “peu repressive et relativement debonnaire,” few commit offences.

The Andaman Islands have been utilized by the Indian government since the mutiny (1857) for the deportation of heinous criminals (see Andaman Islands).

Authorities.—Captain A. Phillip, R.N., The Voyage of Governor Phillip to New South Wales (1790); David Collins, Account of the English Colony of New South Wales (1798); Archbishop Whately, Remarks on Transportation (1834); Herman Merivale, Colonization and Colonies (1841); d’Haussonville, Établissements pénitentiaires en France et aux colonies (1875); George Griffith, In a Prison Land; Cuche, Science et legislation pénitentiaire (1905); Hawes, The Uttermost East (1906).

(A. G.)

DEPOSIT (Lat. depositum, from deponere, to lay down, to put in the care of), anything laid down or separated; as in geology, any mass of material accumulated by a natural agency (see Bed), and in chemistry, a precipitate or matter settling from a solution or suspension. In banking, a deposit may mean, generally, a sum of money lodged in a bank without regard to the conditions under which it is held, but more specially money lodged with a bank on “deposit account” and acknowledged by the banker by a “deposit receipt” given to the depositor. It is then not drawn upon by cheque, usually bears interest at a rate varying from time to time, and can only be withdrawn after fixed notice. Deposit is also used in the sense of earnest or security for the performance of a contract. In the law of mortgage the deposit of title-deeds is usual as a security for the repayment of money advanced. Such a deposit operates as an equitable mortgage. In the law of contract, deposit or simple bailment is delivery or bailment of goods in trust to be kept without recompense, and redelivered on demand (see Bailment).

DEPOT (from the Fr. dépôt, Lat. depositum, laid down; the French accent marks are usually dispensed with in English), a place where things may be stored or deposited, such as a furniture or forage depot, the accumulation of military stores, especially in the theatre of operations. In America the word is used of a railway station, whether for passengers or goods; in Great Britain on railways the word, when in use, is applied to goods stations. A particular military application is to a depot, situated as a rule in the centre of the recruiting district of the regiment or other unit, where recruits are received and undergo the necessary preliminary training before joining the active troops. Such depots are maintained in peace time by all armies which have to supply distant or oversea garrisons; in an army raised by compulsory service and quartered in its own country, the regiments are usually stationed in their own districts, and on their taking the field for war leave behind a small nucleus for the formation and training of drafts to be sent out later. These nucleus troops are generally called depot troops.

DEPRETIS, AGOSTINO (1813-1887), Italian statesman, was born at Mezzana Corte, in the province of Stradella on the 31st of January 1813. From early manhood a disciple of Mazzini and affiliated to the Giovane Italia, he took an active part in the Mazzinian conspiracies and was nearly captured by the Austrians while smuggling arms into Milan. Elected deputy in 1848, he joined the Left and founded the journal Il Diritto, but held no official position until appointed governor of Brescia in 1859. In 1860 he went to Sicily on a mission to reconcile the policy of Cavour (who desired the immediate incorporation of the island in the kingdom of Italy) with that of Garibaldi, who wished to postpone the Sicilian plébiscite until after the liberation of Naples and Rome. Though appointed pro-dictator of Sicily by Garibaldi, he failed in his attempt. Accepting the portfolio of public works in the Rattazzi cabinet in 1862, he served as intermediary in arranging with Garibaldi the expedition which ended disastrously at Aspromonte. Four years later, on the outbreak of war against Austria, he entered the Ricasoli cabinet as minister of marine, and, by maintaining Admiral Persano in command of the fleet, contributed to the defeat of Lissa. His apologists contend, however, that, as an inexperienced civilian, he could not have made sudden changes in naval arrangements without disorganizing the fleet, and that in view of the impending hostilities he was obliged to accept the dispositions of his predecessors. Upon the death of Rattazzi in 1873, Depretis became leader of the Left, prepared the advent of his party to power, and was called upon to form the first cabinet of the Left in 1876. Overthrown by Cairoli in March 1878 on the grist-tax question, he succeeded, in the following December, in defeating Cairoli, became again premier, but on the 3rd of July 1879 was once more overturned by Cairoli. In November 1879 he, however, entered the Cairoli cabinet as minister of the interior, and in May 1881 succeeded to the premiership, retaining that office until his death on the 29th of July 1887. During the long interval he recomposed his cabinet four times, first throwing out Zanardelli and Baccarini in order to please the Right, and subsequently bestowing portfolios upon Ricotti, Robilant and other Conservatives, so as to complete the political process known as “trasformismo.” A few weeks before his death he repented of his transformist policy, and again included Crispi and Zanardelli in his cabinet. During his long term of office he abolished the grist tax, extended the suffrage, completed the railway system, aided Mancini in forming the Triple Alliance, and initiated colonial policy by the occupation of Massawa; but, at the same time, he vastly increased indirect taxation, corrupted and destroyed the fibre of parliamentary parties, and, by extravagance in public works, impaired the stability of Italian finance.

DEPTFORD, a south-eastern metropolitan borough of London, England, bounded N. by Bermondsey, E. by the river Thames and Greenwich, S. by Lewisham and W. by Camberwell. Pop. (1901) 110,398. The name is connected with a ford over the Ravensbourne, a stream entering the Thames through Deptford Creek. The borough comprises only the parish of Deptford St Paul, that of Deptford St Nicholas being included in the borough of Greenwich. Deptford is a district of poor streets, inhabited by a large industrial population, employed in engineering and other riverside works. On the river front, extending into the borough of Greenwich, are the royal victualling yard and the site of the old Deptford dockyard. The first supplies the navy with provisions, medicines, furniture, &c., manufactured or stored in the large warehouses here. The dockyard ceased to be used in 1869, and was filled up and converted into a foreign cattle market by the City Corporation. Of public buildings the most noteworthy are St Paul’s church (1730), of classic design; the municipal buildings; and the hospital for master mariners, maintained by the corporation of the Trinity House, which was founded at Deptford, the old hall being pulled down in 1787. Other institutions are the Goldsmiths’ Polytechnic Institute, New Cross; and the South-eastern fever hospital. A mansion known as Sayes Court, taken down in 1729, was the residence of the duke of Sussex in the reign of Elizabeth; it was occupied in the following century by John Evelyn, author of Sylva, and by Peter the Great during his residence in England in 1698. The site of its gardens is occupied by Deptford Park of 11 acres. Another open space is Telegraph Hill (9½ acres). The parliamentary borough of Deptford returns one member. The borough council consists of a mayor, 6 aldermen, and 36 councillors. Area, 1562.7 acres.

DEPUTY (through the Fr. from a Late Lat. use of deputare, to cut off, allot; putare having the original sense of to trim, prune), one appointed to act or govern instead of another; one who exercises an office in another man’s right, a substitute; in representative government a member of an elected chamber. In general, the powers and duties of a deputy are those of his principal (see also Representation), but the extent to which he may exercise them is dependent upon the power delegated to him. He may be authorized to exercise the whole of his principal’s office, in which case he is a general deputy, or to act only in some particular matter or service, when he is termed a special deputy. In the United Kingdom various officials are specifically empowered by statute to appoint deputies to act for them under certain circumstances. Thus a clerk of the peace, in case of illness, incapacity or absence, may appoint a fit person to act as his deputy. While judges of the supreme court cannot act by deputy, county court judges and recorders can, in cases of illness or unavoidable absence, appoint deputies. So can registrars of county courts and returning officers at elections.

DE QUINCEY, THOMAS (1785-1859), English author, was born at Greenheys, Manchester, on the 15th of August 1785. He was the fifth child in a family of eight (four sons and four daughters). His father, descended from a Norman family, was a merchant, who left his wife and six children a clear income of £1600 a year. Thomas was from infancy a shy, sensitive child, with a constitutional tendency to dreaming by night and by day; and, under the influence of an elder brother, a lad “whose genius for mischief amounted to inspiration,” who died in his sixteenth year, he spent much of his boyhood in imaginary worlds of their own creating. The amusements and occupations of the whole family, indeed, seem to have been mainly intellectual; and in De Quincey’s case, emphatically, “the child was father to the man.” “My life has been,” he affirms in the Confessions, “on the whole the life of a philosopher; from my birth I was made an intellectual creature, and intellectual in the highest sense my pursuits and pleasures have been.” From boyhood he was more or less in contact with a polished circle; his education, easy to one of such native aptitude, was sedulously attended to. When he was in his twelfth year the family removed to Bath, where he was sent to the grammar school, at which he remained for about two years; and for a year more he attended another public school at Winkfield, Wiltshire. At thirteen he wrote Greek with ease; at fifteen he not only composed Greek verses in lyric measures, but could converse in Greek fluently and without embarrassment; one of his masters said of him, “that boy could harangue an Athenian mob better than you or I could address an English one.” Towards the close of his fifteenth year he visited Ireland, with a companion of his own age, Lord Westport, the son of Lord Altamont, an Irish peer, and spent there in residence and travel some months of the summer and autumn of the year 1800,—being a spectator at Dublin of “the final ratification of the bill which united Ireland to Great Britain.” On his return to England, his mother having now settled at St John’s Priory, a residence near Chester, De Quincey was sent to the Manchester grammar school, mainly in the hope of securing one of the school exhibitions to help his expenses at Oxford.

Discontented with the mode in which his guardians conducted his education, and with some view apparently of forcing them to send him earlier to college, he left this school after less than a year’s residence—ran away, in short, to his mother’s house. There his mother’s brother, Colonel Thomas Penson, made an arrangement for him to have a weekly allowance, on which he might reside at some country place in Wales, and pursue his studies, presumably till he could go to college. From Wales, however, after brief trial, “suffering grievously from want of books,” he went off as he had done from school, and hid himself from guardians and friends in the world of London. And now, as he says, commenced “that episode, or impassioned parenthesis of my life, which is comprehended in The Confessions of an English Opium Eater.” This London episode extended over a year or more; his money soon vanished, and he was in the utmost poverty; he obtained shelter for the night in Greek Street, Soho, from a moneylender’s agent, and spent his days wandering in the streets and parks; finally the lad was reconciled to his guardians, and in 1803 was sent to Worcester College, Oxford, being by this time about nineteen. It was in the course of his second year at Oxford that he first tasted opium,—having taken it to allay neuralgic pains. De Quincey’s mother had settled at Weston Lea, near Bath, and on one of his visits to Bath, De Quincey made the acquaintance of Coleridge; he took Mrs Coleridge to Grasmere, where he became personally acquainted with Wordsworth.

After finishing his career of five years at college in 1808 he kept terms at the Middle Temple; but in 1809 visited the Wordsworths at Grasmere, and in the autumn returned to Dove Cottage, which he had taken on a lease. His choice was of course influenced partly by neighbourhood to Wordsworth, whom he early appreciated;—having been, he says, the only man in all Europe who quoted Wordsworth so early as 1802. His friendship with Wordsworth decreased within a few years, and when in 1834 De Quincey published in Tait’s Magazine his reminiscences of the Grasmere circle, the indiscreet references to the Wordsworths contained in the article led to a complete cessation of intercourse. Here also he enjoyed the society and friendship of Coleridge, Southey and especially of Professor Wilson, as in London he had of Charles Lamb and his circle. He continued his classical and other studies, especially exploring the at that time almost unknown region of German literature, and indicating its riches to English readers. Here also, in 1816, he married Margaret Simpson, the “dear M——” of whom a charming glimpse is accorded to the reader of the Confessions; his family came to be five sons and three daughters.

For about a year and a half he edited the Westmoreland Gazette. He left Grasmere for London in the early part of 1820. The Lambs received him with great kindness and introduced him to the proprietors of the London Magazine. It was in this journal in 1821 that the Confessions appeared. De Quincey also contributed to Blackwood, to Knight’s Quarterly Magazine, and later to Tait’s Magazine. His connexion with Blackwood took him to Edinburgh in 1828, and he lived there for twelve years, contributing from time to time to the Edinburgh Literary Gazette. His wife died in 1837, and the family eventually settled at Lasswade, but from this time De Quincey spent his time in lodgings in various places, staying at one place until the accumulation of papers filled the rooms, when he left them in charge of the landlady and wandered elsewhere. After his wife’s death he gave way for the fourth time in his life to the opium habit, but in 1844 he reduced his daily quantity by a tremendous effort to six grains, and never again yielded. He died in Edinburgh on the 8th of December 1859, and is buried in the West Churchyard.

During nearly fifty years De Quincey lived mainly by his pen. His patrimony seems never to have been entirely exhausted, and his habits and tastes were simple and inexpensive; but he was reckless in the use of money, and had debts and pecuniary difficulties of all sorts. There was, indeed, his associates affirm, an element of romance even in his impecuniosity, as there was in everything about him; and the diplomatic and other devices by which he contrived to keep clear of clamant creditors, while scrupulously fulfilling many obligations, often disarmed animosity, and converted annoyance into amusement. The famous Confessions of an English Opium Eater was published in a small volume in 1822, and attracted a very remarkable degree of attention, not simply by its personal disclosures, but by the extraordinary power of its dream-painting. No other literary man of his time, it has been remarked, achieved so high and universal a reputation from such merely fugitive efforts. The only works published separately (not in periodicals) were a novel, Klosterheim (1832), and The Logic of Political Economy (1844). After his works were brought together, De Quincey’s reputation was not merely maintained, but extended. For range of thought and topic, within the limits of pure literature, no like amount of material of such equality of merit proceeded from any eminent writer of the day. However profuse and discursive, De Quincey is always polished, and generally exact—a scholar, a wit, a man of the world and a philosopher, as well as a genius. He looked upon letters as a noble and responsible calling; in his essay on Oliver Goldsmith he claims for literature the rank not only of a fine art, but of the highest and most potent of fine arts; and as such he himself regarded and practised it. He drew a broad distinction between “the literature of knowledge and the literature of power,” asserting that the function of the first is to teach, the function of the second to move,—maintaining that the meanest of authors who moves has pre-eminence over all who merely teach, that the literature of knowledge must perish by supersession, while the literature of power is “triumphant for ever as long as the language exists in which it speaks.” It is to this class of motive literature that De Quincey’s own works essentially belong; it is by virtue of that vital element of power that they have emerged from the rapid oblivion of periodicalism, and live in the minds of later generations. But their power is weakened by their volume.

De Quincey fully defined his own position and claim to distinction in the preface to his collected works. These he divides into three classes:—“first, that class which proposes primarily to amuse the reader,” such as the Narratives, Autobiographic Sketches, &c.; “second, papers which address themselves purely to the understanding as an insulated faculty, or do so primarily,” such as the essays on Essenism, the Caesars, Cicero, &c.; and finally, as a third class, “and, in virtue of their aim, as a far higher class of compositions,” he ranks those “modes of impassioned prose ranging under no precedents that I am aware of in any literature,” such as the Confessions and Suspiria de Profundis. The high claim here asserted has been questioned; and short and isolated examples of eloquent apostrophe, and highly wrought imaginative description, have been cited from Rousseau and other masters of style; but De Quincey’s power of sustaining a fascinating and elevated strain of “impassioned prose” is allowed to be entirely his own. Nor, in regard to his writings as a whole, will a minor general claim which he makes be disallowed, namely, that he “does not write without a thoughtful consideration of his subject,” and also with novelty and freshness of view. “Generally,” he says, “I claim (not arrogantly, but with firmness) the merit of rectification applied to absolute errors, or to injurious limitations of the truth.” Another obvious quality of all his genius is its overflowing fulness of allusion and illustration, recalling his own description of a great philosopher or scholar—“Not one who depends simply on an infinite memory, but also on an infinite and electrical power of combination, bringing together from the four winds, like the angel of the resurrection, what else were dust from dead men’s bones into the unity of breathing life.” It is useless to complain of his having lavished and diffused his talents and acquirements over so vast a variety of often comparatively trivial and passing topics. The world must accept gifts from men of genius as they offer them; circumstance and the hour often rule their form. Those influences, no less than the idiosyncrasy of the man, determined De Quincey to the illumination of such matter for speculation as seemed to lie before him; he was not careful to search out recondite or occult themes, though these he did not neglect,—a student, a scholar and a recluse, he was yet at the same time a man of the world, keenly interested in the movements of men and in the page of history that unrolled itself before him day by day. To the discussion of things new, as readily as of things old, aided by a capacious, retentive and ready memory, which dispensed with reference to printed pages, he brought also the exquisite keenness and subtlety of his highly analytic and imaginative intellect, the illustrative stores of his vast and varied erudition, and that large infusion of common sense which preserved him from becoming at any time a mere doctrinaire, or visionary. If he did not throw himself into any of the great popular controversies or agitations of the day, it was not from any want of sympathy with the struggles of humanity or the progress of the race, but rather because his vocation was to apply to such incidents of his own time, as to like incidents of all history, great philosophical principles and tests of truth and power. In politics, in the party sense of that term, he would probably have been classed as a Liberal Conservative or Conservative Liberal—at one period of his life perhaps the former, and at a later the latter. Originally, as we have seen, his surroundings were aristocratic, in his middle life his associates, notably Wordsworth, Southey and Wilson, were all Tories; but he seems never to have held the extreme and narrow views of that circle. Though a flavour of high breeding runs through his writings, he has no vulgar sneers at the vulgar. As he advanced in years his views became more and more decidedly liberal, but he was always as far removed from Radicalism as from Toryism, and may be described as a philosophical politician, capable of classification under no definite party name or colour. Of political economy he had been an early and earnest student, and projected, if he did not so far proceed with, an elaborate and systematic treatise on the science, of which all that appears, however, are his fragmentary Dialogues on the system of Ricardo, published in the London Magazine in 1824, and The Logic of Political Economy (1844). But political and economic problems largely exercised his thoughts, and his historical sketches show that he is constantly alive to their interpenetrating influence. The same may be said of his biographies, notably of his remarkable sketch of Dr Parr. Neither politics nor economics, however, exercised an absorbing influence on his mind,—they were simply provinces in the vast domain of universal speculation through which he ranged “with unconfined wings.” How wide and varied was the region he traversed a glance at the titles of the papers which make up his collected—or more properly, selected—works (for there was much matter of evanescent interest not reprinted) sufficiently shows. Some things in his own line he has done perfectly; he has written many pages of magnificently mixed argument, irony, humour and eloquence, which, for sustained brilliancy, richness, subtle force and purity of style and effect, have simply no parallels; and he is without peer the prince of dreamers. The use of opium no doubt stimulated this remarkable faculty of reproducing in skilfully selected phrase the grotesque and shifting forms of that “cloudland, gorgeous land,” which opens to the sleep-closed eye.

To the appreciation of De Quincey the reader must bring an imaginative faculty somewhat akin to his own—a certain general culture, and large knowledge of books, and men and things. Otherwise much of that slight and delicate allusion that gives point and colour and charm to his writings will be missed; and on this account the full enjoyment and comprehension of De Quincey must always remain a luxury of the literary and intellectual. But his skill in narration, his rare pathos, his wide sympathies, the pomp of his dream-descriptions, the exquisite playfulness of his lighter dissertations, and his abounding though delicate and subtle humour, commend him to a larger class. Though far from being a professed humorist—a character he would have shrunk from—there is no more expert worker in a sort of half-veiled and elaborate humour and irony than De Quincey; but he employs those resources for the most part secondarily. Only in one instance has he given himself up to them unreservedly and of set purpose, namely, in the famous “Essay on Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts,” published in Blackwood,—an effort which, admired and admirable though it be, is also, it must be allowed, somewhat strained. His style, full and flexible, pure and polished, is peculiarly his own; yet it is not the style of a mannerist,—its charm is, so to speak, latent; the form never obtrudes; the secret is only discoverable by analysis and study. It consists simply in the reader’s assurance of the writer’s complete mastery over all the infinite applicability and resources of the English language. Hence involutions and parentheses, “cycle on epicycle,” evolve themselves into a stately clearness and harmony; and sentences and paragraphs, loaded with suggestion, roll on smoothly and musically, without either fatiguing or cloying—rather, indeed, to the surprise as well as delight of the reader; for De Quincey is always ready to indulge in feats of style, witching the world with that sort of noble horsemanship which is as graceful as it is daring.

It has been complained that, in spite of the apparently full confidences of the Confessions and Autobiographic Sketches, readers are left in comparative ignorance, biographically speaking, of the man De Quincey. Two passages in his Confessions afford sufficient clues to this mystery. In one he describes himself “as framed for love and all gentle affections,” and in another confesses to the “besetting infirmity” of being “too much of an eudaemonist.” “I hanker,” he says, “too much after a state of happiness, both for myself and others; I cannot face misery, whether my own or not, with an eye of sufficient firmness, and am little capable of surmounting present pain for the sake of any recessionary benefit.” His sensitive disposition dictated the ignoring in his writings of traits merely personal to himself, as well as his ever-recurrent resort to opium as a doorway of escape from present ill; and prompted those habits of seclusion, and that apparently capricious abstraction of himself from the society not only of his friends, but of his own family, in which he from time to time persisted. He confessed to occasional accesses of an almost irresistible impulse to flee to the labyrinthine shelter of some great city like London or Paris,—there to dwell solitary amid a multitude, buried by day in the cloister-like recesses of mighty libraries, and stealing away by night to some obscure lodging. Long indulgence in seclusion, and in habits of study the most lawless possible in respect of regular hours or any considerations of health or comfort,—the habit of working as pleased himself without regard to the divisions of night or day, of times of sleeping or waking, even of the slow procession of the seasons, had latterly so disinclined him to the restraints, however slight, of ordinary social intercourse, that he very seldom submitted to them. On such rare occasions, however, as he did appear, perhaps at some simple meal with a favoured friend, or in later years in his own small but refined domestic circle, he was the most charming of guests, hosts or companions. A short and fragile, but well-proportioned frame; a shapely and compact head; a face beaming with intellectual light, with rare, almost feminine beauty of feature and complexion; a fascinating courtesy of manner; and a fulness, swiftness and elegance of silvery speech,—such was the irresistible “mortal mixture of earth’s mould” that men named De Quincey. He possessed in a high degree what James Russell Lowell called “the grace of perfect breeding, everywhere persuasive, and nowhere emphatic”; and his whole aspect and manner exercised an undefinable attraction over every one, gentle or simple, who came within its influence; for shy as he was, he was never rudely shy, making good his boast that he had always made it his “pride to converse familiarly more socratico with all human beings—man, woman and child”—looking on himself as a catholic creature standing in an equal relation to high and low, to educated and uneducated. He would converse with a peasant lad or a servant girl in phrase as choice, and sentences as sweetly turned, as if his interlocutor were his equal both in position and intelligence; yet without a suspicion of pedantry, and with such complete adaptation of style and topic that his talk charmed the humblest as it did the highest that listened to it. His conversation was not a monologue; if he had the larger share, it was simply because his hearers were only too glad that it should be so; he would listen with something like deference to very ordinary talk, as if the mere fact of the speaker being one of the same company entitled him to all consideration and respect. The natural bent of his mind and disposition, and his lifelong devotion to letters, to say nothing of his opium eating, rendered him, it must be allowed, regardless of ordinary obligations in life—domestic and pecuniary—to a degree that would have been culpable in any less singularly constituted mind. It was impossible to deal with or judge De Quincey by ordinary standards—not even his publishers did so. Much no doubt was forgiven him, but all that needed forgiveness is covered by the kindly veil of time, while his merits as a master in English literature are still gratefully acknowledged.1

[Bibliography.—In 1853 De Quincey began to prepare an edition of his works, Selections Grave and Gay. Writings Published and Unpublished (14 vols., Edinburgh, 1853-1860), followed by a second edition (1863-1871) with notes by James Hogg and two additional volumes; a further supplementary volume appeared in 1878. The first comprehensive edition, however, was printed in America (Boston, 20 vols., 1850-1855); and the “Riverside” edition (Boston and New York, 12 vols., 1877) is still fuller. The standard English edition is The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey (14 vols., Edinburgh, 1889-1890), edited by David Masson, who also wrote his biography (1881) for the “English Men of Letters” series. The Uncollected Writings of Thomas De Quincey (London, 2 vols., 1890) contains a preface and annotations by James Hogg; The Posthumous Writings of Thomas De Quincey (2 vols., 1891-1893) were edited by A. H. Japp (“H. A. Page”), who wrote the standard biography, Thomas De Quincey: his Life and Writings (London, 2 vols., 2nd ed., 1879), and De Quincey Memorials (2 vols., 1891). See also Arvède Barine, Neurosés (Paris, 1898); Sir L. Stephen, Hours in a Library; H. S. Salt, De Quincey (1904); and De Quincey and his Friends (1895), a collection edited by James Hogg, which includes essays by Dr Hill Burton and Shadworth Hodgson.]

(J. R. F.)

DERA GHAZI KHAN, a town and district of British India, in the Punjab. In 1901 the town had a population of 21,700. There are several handsome mosques in the native quarter. It commands the direct approaches to the Baluch highlands by Sakki Sarwar and Fort Monro. For many years past both the town and cantonment have been threatened by the erosion of the river Indus. The town was founded at the close of the 15th century and named after Ghazi Khan, son of Haji Khan, a Baluch chieftain, who after holding the country for the Langah sultans of Multan had made himself independent. Together with the two other deras (settlements), Dera Ismail Khan and Dera Fateh Khan, it gave its name to the territorial area locally and historically known as Derajat, which after many vicissitudes came into the possession of the British after the Sikh War, in 1849, and was divided into the two districts of Dera Ghazi Khan and Dera Ismail Khan.

The District of Dera Ghazi Khan contains an area of 5306 sq. m. The district is a long narrow strip of country, 198 m. in length, sloping gradually from the hills which form its western boundary to the river Indus on the east. Below the hills the country is high and arid, generally level, but sometimes rolling in sandy undulations, and much intersected by hill torrents, 201 in number. With the exceptions of two, these streams dry up after the rains, and their influence is only felt for a few miles below the hills. The eastern portion of the district is at a level sufficiently low to benefit by the floods of the Indus. A barren tract intervenes between these zones, and is beyond the reach of the hill streams on the one hand and of the Indus on the other. Although liable to great extremes of temperature, and to a very scanty rainfall, the district is not unhealthy. The population in 1901 was 471,149, the great majority being Baluch Mahommedans. The principal exports are wheat and indigo. The only manufactures are for domestic use. There is no railway in the district, and only 29 m. of metalled road. The Indus, which is nowhere bridged within the district, is navigable by native boats. The geographical boundary between the Pathan and Baluch races in the hills nearly corresponds with the northern limit of the district. The frontier tribes on the Dera Ghazi Khan border include the Kasranis, Bozdars, Khosas, Lagharis, Khetvans, Gurchanis, Mazaris, Mariris and Bugtis. The chief of these are described under their separate names.

DERA ISMAIL KHAN, a town and district in the Derajat division of the North-West Frontier Province of India. The town is situated near the right bank of the Indus, which is here crossed by a bridge of boats during half the year. In 1901 it had a population of 31,737. It takes its name from Ismail Khan, a Baluch chief who settled here towards the end of the 15th century, and whose descendants ruled for 300 years. The old town was swept away by a flood in 1823, and the present town stands 4 m. back from the permanent channel of the river. The native quarters are well laid out, with a large bazaar for Afghan traders. It is the residence of many Mahommedan gentry. The cantonment accommodates about a brigade of troops. There is considerable through trade with Afghanistan by the Gomal Pass, and there are local manufactures of cotton cloth scarves and inlaid wood-work.

The District of Dera Ismail Khan contains an area of 3403 sq. m. It was formerly divided into two almost equal portions by the Indus, which intersected it from north to south. To the west of the Indus the characteristics of the country resemble those of Dera Ghazi Khan. To the east of the present bed of the river there is a wide tract known as the Kachi, exposed to river action. Beyond this, the country rises abruptly, and a barren, almost desert plain stretches eastwards, sparsely cultivated, and inhabited only by nomadic tribes of herdsmen. In 1901 the trans-Indus tract was allotted to the newly formed North-West Frontier Province, the cis-Indus tract remaining in the Punjab jurisdiction. The cis-Indus portions of the Dera Ismail Khan and Bannu districts now comprise the new Punjab district of Mianiwali. In 1901 the population was 252,379, chiefly Pathan and Baluch Mahommedans. Wheat and wool are exported.

The Indus is navigable by native boats throughout its course of 120 m. within the district, which is the borderland of Pathan and Baluch tribes, the Pathan element predominating. The chief frontier tribes are the Sheranis and Ustaranas.

DERBENT, or Derbend, a town of Russia, Caucasia, in the province of Daghestan, on the western shore of the Caspian, 153 m. by rail N.W. of Baku, in 42° 4′ N. and 48° 15′ E. Pop. (1873) 15,739; (1897) 14,821. It occupies a narrow strip of land beside the sea, from which it climbs up the steep heights inland to the citadel of Naryn-kaleh, and is on all sides except towards the east surrounded by walls built of porous limestone. Its general aspect is Oriental, owing to the flat roofs of its two-storeyed houses and its numerous mosques. The environs are occupied by vineyards, gardens and orchards, in which madder, saffron and tobacco, as well as figs, peaches, pears and other fruits, are cultivated. Earthenware, weapons and silk and cotton fabrics are the principal products of the manufacturing industry. To the north of the town is the monument of the Kirk-lar, or “forty heroes,” who fell defending Daghestan against the Arabs in 728; and to the south lies the seaward extremity of the Caucasian wall (50 m. long), otherwise known as Alexander’s wall, blocking the narrow pass of the Iron Gate or Caspian Gates (Portae Albanae or Portae Caspiae). This, when entire, had a height of 29 ft. and a thickness of about 10 ft., and with its iron gates and numerous watch-towers formed a valuable defence of the Persian frontier. Derbent is usually identified with Albana, the capital of the ancient Albania. The modern name, a Persian word meaning “iron gates,” came into use in the end of the 5th or the beginning of the 6th century, when the city was refounded by Kavadh of the Sassanian dynasty of Persia. The walls and the citadel are believed to belong to the time of Kavadh’s son, Khosrau (Chosroes) Anosharvan. In 728 the Arabs entered into possession, and established a principality in the city, which they called Bab-el-Abwab (“the principal gate”), Bab-el-Khadid (“the iron gate”), and Seraill-el-Dagab (“the golden throne”). The celebrated caliph, Harun-al-Rashid, lived in Derbent at different times, and brought it into great repute as a seat of the arts and commerce. In 1220 it was captured by the Mongols, and in the course of the succeeding centuries it frequently changed masters. In 1722 Peter the Great of Russia wrested the town from the Persians, but in 1736 the supremacy of Nadir Shah was again recognized. In 1796 Derbent was besieged by the Russians, and in 1813 incorporated with the Russian empire.

DERBY, EARLS OF. The 1st earl of Derby was probably Robert de Ferrers (d. 1139), who is said by John of Hexham to have been made an earl by King Stephen after the battle of the Standard in 1138. Robert and his descendants retained the earldom until 1266, when Robert (c. 1240-c. 1279), probably the 6th earl, having taken a prominent part in the baronial rising against Henry III., was deprived of his lands and practically of his title. These earlier earls of Derby were also known as Earls Ferrers, or de Ferrers, from their surname; as earls of Tutbury from their residence; and as earls of Nottingham because this county was a lordship under their rule. The large estates which were taken from Earl Robert in 1266 were given by Henry III. in the same year to his son, Edmund, earl of Lancaster; and Edmund’s son, Thomas, earl of Lancaster, called himself Earl Ferrers. In 1337 Edmund’s grandson, Henry (c. 1299-1361), afterwards duke of Lancaster, was created earl of Derby, and this title was taken by Edward III.’s son, John of Gaunt, who had married Henry’s daughter, Blanche. John of Gaunt’s son and successor was Henry, earl of Derby, who became king as Henry IV. in 1399.

In October 1485 Thomas, Lord Stanley, was created earl of Derby, and the title has since been retained by the Stanleys, who, however, have little or no connexion with the county of Derby. Thomas also inherited the sovereign lordship of the Isle of Man, which had been granted by the crown in 1406 to his great-grandfather, Sir John Stanley; and this sovereignty remained in possession of the earls of Derby till 1736, when it passed to the duke of Atholl.

The earl of Derby is one of the three “catskin earls,” the others being the earls of Shrewsbury and Huntingdon. The term “catskin” is possibly a corruption of quatre-skin, derived from the fact that in ancient times the robes of an earl (as depicted in some early representations) were decorated with four rows of ermine, as in the robes of a modern duke, instead of the three rows to which they were restricted in later centuries. The three “catskin” earldoms are the only earldoms now in existence which date from creations prior to the 17th century.

(A. W. H.*)

Thomas Stanley, 1st earl of Derby (c. 1435-1504), was the son of Thomas Stanley, who was created Baron Stanley in 1456 and died in 1459. His grandfather, Sir John Stanley (d. 1414), had founded the fortunes of his family by marrying Isabel Lathom, the heiress of a great estate in the hundred of West Derby in Lancashire; he was lieutenant of Ireland in 1389-1391, and again in 1399-1401, and in 1405 received a grant of the lordship of Man from Henry IV. The future earl of Derby was a squire to Henry VI. in 1454, but not long afterwards married Eleanor, daughter of the Yorkist leader, Richard Neville, earl of Salisbury. At the battle of Blore Heath in August 1459 Stanley, though close at hand with a large force, did not join the royal army, whilst his brother William fought openly for York. In 1461 Stanley was made chief justice of Cheshire by Edward IV., but ten years later he sided with his brother-in-law Warwick in the Lancastrian restoration. Nevertheless, after Warwick’s fall, Edward made Stanley steward of his household. Stanley served with the king in the French expedition of 1475, and with Richard of Gloucester in Scotland in 1482. About the latter date he married, as his second wife, Margaret Beaufort, mother of the exiled Henry Tudor. Stanley was one of the executors of Edward IV., and was at first loyal to the young king Edward V. But he acquiesced in Richard’s usurpation, and retaining his office as steward avoided any entanglement through his wife’s share in Buckingham’s rebellion. He was made constable of England in succession to Buckingham, and granted possession of his wife’s estates with a charge to keep her in some secret place at home. Richard could not well afford to quarrel with so powerful a noble, but early in 1485 Stanley asked leave to retire to his estates in Lancashire. In the summer Richard, suspicious of his continued absence, required him to send his eldest son, Lord Strange, to court as a hostage. After Henry of Richmond had landed, Stanley made excuses for not joining the king; for his son’s sake he was obliged to temporize, even when his brother William had been publicly proclaimed a traitor. Both the Stanleys took the field; but whilst William was in treaty with Richmond, Thomas professedly supported Richard. On the morning of Bosworth (August 22), Richard summoned Stanley to join him, and when he received an evasive reply ordered Strange to be executed. In the battle it was William Stanley who turned the scale in Henry’s favour, but Thomas, who had taken no part in the fighting, was the first to salute the new king. Henry VII. confirmed Stanley in all his offices, and on the 27th of October created him earl of Derby. As husband of the king’s mother Derby held a great position, which was not affected by the treason of his brother William in February 1495. In the following July the earl entertained the king and queen with much state at Knowsley. Derby died on the 29th of July 1504. Strange had escaped execution in 1485, through neglect to obey Richard’s orders; but he died before his father in 1497, and his son Thomas succeeded as second earl. An old poem called The Song of the Lady Bessy, which was written by a retainer of the Stanleys, gives a romantic story of how Derby was enlisted by Elizabeth of York in the cause of his wife’s son.

For fuller narratives see J. Gairdner’s Richard III. and J. H. Ramsay’s Lancaster and York; also Seacome’s Memoirs of the House of Stanley (1741).

(C. L. K.)

Edward Stanley, 3rd earl of Derby (1508-1572), was a son of Thomas Stanley, 2nd earl and grandson of the 1st earl, and succeeded to the earldom on his father’s death in May 1521. During his minority Cardinal Wolsey was his guardian, and as soon as he came of age he began to take part in public life, being often in the company of Henry VIII. He helped to quell the rising in the north of England known as the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536; but remaining true to the Roman Catholic faith he disliked and opposed the religious changes made under Edward VI. During Mary’s reign the earl was more at ease, but under Elizabeth his younger sons, Sir Thomas (d. 1576) and Sir Edward Stanley (d. 1609), were concerned in a plot to free Mary, queen of Scots, and he himself was suspected of disloyalty. However, he kept his numerous dignities until his death at Lathom House, near Ormskirk, on the 24th of October 1572.

Derby’s first wife was Katherine, daughter of Thomas Howard, duke of Norfolk, by whom he had, with other issue, a son Henry, the 4th earl (c. 1531-1593), who was a member of the council of the North, and like his father was lord-lieutenant of Lancashire. Henry was one of the commissioners who tried Mary, queen of Scots, and was employed by Elizabeth on other high undertakings both at home and abroad. He died on the 25th of September 1593. His wife Margaret (d. 1596), daughter of Henry Clifford, 2nd earl of Cumberland, was descended through the Brandons from King Henry VII. Two of his sons, Ferdinando (c. 1559-1594), and William (c. 1561-1642), became in turn the 5th and 6th earls of Derby. Ferdinando, the 5th earl (d. 1594), wrote verses, and is eulogized by the poet Spenser under the name of Amyntas.

(A. W. H.*)

James Stanley, 7th earl of Derby (1607-1651), sometimes styled the Great Earl of Derby, eldest son of William, 6th earl, and Elizabeth de Vere, daughter of Edward, 17th earl of Oxford, was born at Knowsley on the 31st of January 1607. During his father’s life he was known as Lord Strange. After travelling abroad he was chosen member of parliament for Liverpool in 1625, was created knight of the Bath on the occasion of Charles’s coronation in 1626, and was joined with his father the same year as lieutenant of Lancashire and Cheshire and chamberlain of Chester, and in the administration of the Isle of Man, being appointed subsequently lord-lieutenant of North Wales. On the 7th of March 1628 he was called up to the House of Lords as Baron Strange. He took no part in the political disputes between king and parliament and preferred country pursuits and the care of his estates to court or public life. Nevertheless when the Civil War broke out in 1642, Lord Strange devoted himself to the king’s cause. His plan of securing Lancashire at the beginning and raising troops there, which promised success, was however discouraged by Charles, who was said to be jealous of his power and royal lineage and who commanded his presence at Nottingham. His subsequent attempts to recover the county were unsuccessful. He was unable to get possession of Manchester, was defeated at Chowbent and Lowton Moor, and in 1643 after gaining Preston failed to take Bolton and Lancaster castles. Finally, after successfully beating off Sir William Brereton’s attack on Warrington, he was defeated at Whalley and withdrew to York, Warrington in consequence surrendering to the enemy’s forces. In June he left for the Isle of Man to attend to affairs there, and in the summer of 1644 he took part in Prince Rupert’s successful campaign in the north, when Lathom House, where Lady Derby had heroically resisted the attacks of the besiegers, was relieved, and Bolton Castle taken. He followed Rupert to Marston Moor, and after the complete defeat of Charles’s cause in the north withdrew to the Isle of Man, where he held out for the king and offered an asylum to royalist fugitives. His administration of the island imitated that of Strafford in Ireland. It was strong rather than just. He maintained order, encouraged trade, remedied some abuses, and defended the people from the exactions of the church; but he crushed opposition by imprisoning his antagonists, and aroused a prolonged agitation by abolishing the tenant-right and introducing leaseholds. In July 1649 he refused scornfully terms offered to him by Ireton. By the death of his father on the 29th of September 1642 he had succeeded to the earldom, and on the 12th of January 1650 he obtained the Garter. He was chosen by Charles II. to command the troops of Lancashire and Cheshire, and on the 15th of August 1651 he landed at Wyre Water in Lancashire in support of Charles’s invasion, and met the king on the 17th. Proceeding to Warrington he failed to obtain the support of the Presbyterians through his refusal to take the Covenant, and on the 25th was totally defeated at Wigan, being severely wounded and escaping with difficulty. He joined Charles at Worcester; after the battle on the 3rd of September he accompanied him to Boscobel, and while on his way north alone was captured near Nantwich and given quarter. He was tried by court-martial at Chester on the 29th of September, and on the ground that he was a traitor and not a prisoner of war under the act of parliament passed in the preceding month, which declared those who corresponded with Charles guilty of treason, his quarter was disallowed and he was condemned to death. When his appeal for pardon to parliament was rejected, though supported by Cromwell, he endeavoured to escape; but was recaptured and executed at Bolton on the 15th of October 1651. He was buried in Ormskirk church. Lord Derby was a man of deep religious feeling and of great nobility of character, who though unsuccessful in the field served the king’s cause with single-minded purpose and without expectation of reward. His political usefulness was handicapped in the later stages of the struggle by his dislike of the Scots, whom he regarded as guilty of the king’s death and as unfit instruments of the restoration. According to Clarendon he was “a man of great honour and clear courage,” and his defects the result of too little knowledge of the world. Lord Derby left in MS. “A Discourse concerning the Government of the Isle of Man” (printed in the Stanley Papers and in F. Peck’s Desiderata Curiosa, vol. ii.) and several volumes of historical collections, observations, devotions (Stanley Papers) and a commonplace book. He married on the 26th of June 1626 Charlotte de la Tremoille (1599-1664), daughter of Claude, duc de Thouars, and grand-daughter of William the Silent, prince of Orange, by whom besides four daughters he had five sons, of whom the eldest, Charles (1628-1672), succeeded him as 8th earl.

Charles’s two sons, William, the 9th earl (c. 1655-1702), and James, the 10th earl (1664-1736), both died without sons, and consequently, when James died in February 1736, his titles and estates passed to Sir Edward Stanley (1689-1776), a descendant of the 1st earl. From him the later earls were descended, the 12th earl (d. 1834) being his grandson.

Bibliography.—Article in Dict. of Nat. Biog. with authorities and article in same work on Charlotte Stanley, countess of Derby; the Stanley Papers, with the too laudatory memoir by F. R. Haines (Chetham Soc. publications, vols. 62, 66, 67, 70); Memoires, by De Lloyd (1668), 572; State Trials, v. 293-324; Notes & Queries, viii. Ser. iii. 246; Seacombe’s House of Stanley; Clarendon’s Hist. of the Rebellion; Gardiner’s Hist. of the Civil War and Protectorate; The Land of Home Rule, by Spencer Walpole (1893); Hist. of the Isle of Man, by A. W. Moore (1900); Manx Soc. publications, vols. 3, 25, 27.

(P. C. Y.)

Edward Geoffrey Smith Stanley, 14th earl of Derby (1799-1869), the “Rupert of Debate,” born at Knowsley in Lancashire on the 29th of March 1799, grandson of the 12th earl and eldest son of Lord Stanley, subsequently (1834) 13th earl of Derby (1775-1851). He was educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, where he distinguished himself as a classical scholar, though he took no degree. In 1819 he obtained the Chancellor’s prize for Latin verse, the subject being “Syracuse.” He gave early promise of his future eminence as an orator, and in his youth he used to practise elocution under the instruction of Lady Derby, his grandfather’s second wife, the actress, Elizabeth Farren. In 1820 he was returned for Stockbridge in Hampshire, one of the nomination boroughs whose electoral rights were swept away by the Reform Bill of 1832, Stanley being a warm advocate of their destruction.

His maiden speech was delivered early in the session of 1824 in the debate on a private bill for lighting Manchester with gas. On the 6th of May 1824 he delivered a vehement and eloquent speech against Joseph Hume’s motion for a reduction of the Irish Church establishment, maintaining in its most conservative form the doctrine that church property is as sacred as private property. From this time his appearances became frequent; and he soon asserted his place as one of the most powerful speakers in the House. Specially noticeable almost from the first was the skill he displayed in reply. Macaulay, in an essay published in 1834, remarked that he seemed to possess intuitively the faculty which in most men is developed only by long and laborious practice. In the autumn of 1824 Stanley went on an extended tour through Canada and the United States in company with Mr Labouchere, afterwards Lord Taunton, and Mr Evelyn Denison, afterwards Lord Ossington. In May of the following year he married the second daughter of Edward Bootle-Wilbraham, created Baron Skelmersdale in 1828, by whom he had a family of two sons and one daughter who survived.

At the general election of 1826 Stanley renounced his connection with Stockbridge, and became the representative of the borough of Preston, where the Derby influence was paramount. The change of seats had this advantage, that it left him free to speak against the system of rotten boroughs, which he did with great force during the Reform Bill debates, without laying himself open to the charge of personal inconsistency as the representative of a place where, according to Gay, cobblers used to “feast three years upon one vote.” In 1827 he and several other distinguished Whigs made a coalition with Canning on the defection of the more unyielding Tories, and he commenced his official life as under-secretary for the colonies, but the coalition was broken up by Canning’s death in August. Lord Goderich succeeded to the premiership, but he never was really in power, and he resigned his place after the lapse of a few months. During the succeeding administration of the duke of Wellington (1828-1830), Stanley and those with whom he acted were in opposition. His robust and assertive Liberalism about this period seemed curious afterwards to a younger generation who knew him only as the very embodiment of Conservatism.

By the advent of Lord Grey to power in November 1830, Stanley obtained his first opportunity of showing his capacity for a responsible office. He was appointed to the chief secretaryship of Ireland, a position in which he found ample scope for both administrative and debating skill. On accepting office he had to vacate his seat for Preston and seek re-election; and he had the mortification of being defeated by the Radical “orator” Hunt. The contest was a peculiarly keen one, and turned upon the question of the ballot, which Stanley refused to support. He re-entered the House as one of the members for Windsor, Sir Hussey Vivian having resigned in his favour. In 1832 he again changed his seat, being returned for North Lancashire.

Stanley was one of the most ardent supporters of Lord Grey’s Reform Bill. Of this no other proof is needed than his frequent parliamentary utterances, which were fully in sympathy with the popular cry “The bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill.” Reference may be made especially to the speech he delivered on the 4th of March 1831 on the adjourned debate on the second reading of the bill, which was marked by all the higher qualities of his oratory. Apart from his connexion with the general policy of the government, Stanley had more than enough to have employed all his energies in the management of his own department. The secretary of Ireland has seldom an easy task; Stanley found it one of peculiar difficulty. The country was in a very unsettled state. The just concession that had been somewhat tardily yielded a short time before in Catholic emancipation had excited the people to make all sorts of demands, reasonable and unreasonable. Undaunted by the fierce denunciations of O’Connell, who styled him Scorpion Stanley, he discharged with determination the ungrateful task of carrying a coercion bill through the House. It was generally felt that O’Connell, powerful though he was, had fairly met his match in Stanley, who, with invective scarcely inferior to his own, evaded no challenge, ignored no argument, and left no taunt unanswered. The title “Rupert of Debate” is peculiarly applicable to him in connexion with the fearless if also often reckless method of attack he showed in his parliamentary war with O’Connell. It was first applied to him, however, thirteen years later by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton in The New Timon:—

“One after one the lords of time advance; Here Stanley meets—here Stanley scorns the glance! The brilliant chief, irregularly great, Frank, haughty, rash,—the Rupert of debate.”

The best answer, however, which he made to the attacks of the great agitator was not the retorts of debate, effective though these were, but the beneficial legislation he was instrumental in passing. He introduced and carried the first national education act for Ireland, one result of which was the remarkable and to many almost incredible phenomenon of a board composed of Catholics, Episcopalians and Presbyterians harmoniously administering an efficient education scheme. He was also chiefly responsible for the Irish Church Temporalities Act, though the bill was not introduced into parliament until after he had quitted the Irish secretaryship for another office. By this measure two archbishoprics and eight bishoprics were abolished, and a remedy was provided for various abuses connected with the revenues of the church. As originally introduced, the bill contained a clause authorizing the appropriation of surplus revenues to non-ecclesiastical purposes. This had, however, been strongly opposed from the first by Stanley and several other members of the cabinet, and it was withdrawn by the government before the measure reached the Lords.

In 1833, just before the introduction of the Irish Church Temporalities Bill, Stanley had been promoted to be secretary for the colonies with a seat in the cabinet. In this position it fell to his lot to carry the emancipation of the slaves to a successful practical issue. The speech which he delivered on introducing the bill for freeing the slaves in the West Indies, on the 14th of May 1833, was one of the finest specimens of his eloquence.

The Irish Church question determined more than one turning-point in his political career. The most important occasion on which it did so was in 1834, when the proposal of the government to appropriate the surplus revenues of the church to educational purposes led to his secession from the cabinet, and, as it proved, his complete and final separation from the Whig party. In the former of these steps he had as his companions Sir James Graham, the earl of Ripon and the duke of Richmond. Soon after it occurred, O’Connell, amid the laughter of the House, described the secession in a couplet from Canning’s Loves of the Triangles:—

“Still down thy steep, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Derby dilly carrying six insides.”

Stanley was not content with marking his disapproval by the simple act of withdrawing from the cabinet. He spoke against the bill to which he objected with a vehemence that showed the strength of his feeling in the matter, and against its authors with a bitterness that he himself is understood to have afterwards admitted to have been unseemly towards those who had so recently been his colleagues. The course followed by the government was “marked with all that timidity, that want of dexterity, which led to the failure of the unpractised shoplifter.” His late colleagues were compared to “thimble-riggers at a country fair,” and their plan was “petty larceny, for it had not the redeeming qualities of bold and open robbery.”

In the end of 1834, Lord Stanley, as he was now styled by courtesy, his father having succeeded to the earldom in October, was invited by Sir Robert Peel to join the short-lived Conservative ministry which he formed after the resignation of Lord Melbourne. Though he declined the offer for reasons stated in a letter published in the Peel memoirs, he acted from that date with the Conservative party, and on its next accession to power, in 1841, he accepted the office of colonial secretary, which he had held under Lord Grey. His position and his temperament alike, however, made him a thoroughly independent supporter of any party to which he attached himself. When, therefore, the injury to health arising from the late hours in the Commons led him in 1844 to seek elevation to the Upper House in the right of his father’s barony, Sir Robert Peel, in acceding to his request, had the satisfaction of at once freeing himself from the possible effects of his “candid friendship” in the House, and at the same time greatly strengthening the debating power on the Conservative side in the other. If the premier in taking this step had any presentiment of an approaching difference on a vital question, it was not long in being realized. When Sir Robert Peel accepted the policy of free trade in 1846, the breach between him and Lord Stanley was, as might have been anticipated from the antecedents of the latter, instant and irreparable. Lord Stanley at once asserted himself as the uncompromising opponent of that policy, and he became the recognized leader of the Protectionist party, having Lord George Bentinck and Disraeli for his lieutenants in the Commons. They did all that could be done in a case in which the logic of events was against them, though Protection was never to become more than their watchword.

It is one of the peculiarities of English politics, however, that a party may come into power because it is the only available one at the time, though it may have no chance of carrying the very principle to which it owes its organized existence. Such was the case when Lord Derby, who had succeeded to the earldom on the death of his father in June 1851, was called upon to form his first administration in February 1852. He was in a minority, but the circumstances were such that no other than a minority government was possible, and he resolved to take the only available means of strengthening his position by dissolving parliament and appealing to the country at the earliest opportunity. The appeal was made in autumn, but its result did not materially alter the position of parties. Parliament met in November, and by the middle of the following month the ministry had resigned in consequence of their defeat on Disraeli’s budget. For the six following years, during Lord Aberdeen’s “ministry of all the talents” and Lord Palmerston’s premiership, Lord Derby remained at the head of the opposition, whose policy gradually became more generally Conservative and less distinctively Protectionist as the hopelessness of reversing the measures adopted in 1846 made itself apparent. In 1855 he was asked to form an administration after the resignation of Lord Aberdeen, but failing to obtain sufficient support, he declined the task. It was in somewhat more hopeful circumstances that, after the defeat of Lord Palmerston on the Conspiracy Bill in February 1858, he assumed for the second time the reins of government. Though he still could not count upon a working majority, there was a possibility of carrying on affairs without sustaining defeat, which was realized for a full session, owing chiefly to the dexterous management of Mr Disraeli in the Commons. The one rock ahead was the question of reform, on which the wishes of the country were being emphatically expressed, but it was not so pressing as to require to be immediately dealt with. During the session of 1858 the government contrived to pass two measures of very considerable importance, one a bill to remove Jewish disabilities, and the other a bill to transfer the government of India from the East India Company to the crown. Next year the question of parliamentary reform had to be faced, and, recognizing the necessity, the government introduced a bill at the opening of the session, which, in spite of, or rather in consequence of, its “fancy franchises,” was rejected by the House, and, on a dissolution, rejected also by the country. A vote of no confidence having been passed in the new parliament on the 10th of June, Lord Derby at once resigned.