industry and acquisition of property. Capital, it is true, fails to be accumulated as largely as in European countries, and much less so than in England where primogeniture and the law of entail prevails. But that is the source of the greatest anxiety in that part of the world. Furthermore the moral relation between the members of a joint family lifts them far above the cold and mercenary relations of a life in clubs and chummeries. Lastly, the caste system, however objectionable as supporting a social inequality between different castes, has this recommendation, at least, that, owing to it, the disparity between the richer and poorer sections, as noticeable in each caste, is not so great as what exists between the richest and poorest of all the castes combined; and hence, the barrier of caste prevents the jealousy that would occur between the two classes if caste did not exist. The horrors of a French revolution could not, I should think, occur in a society like that of the Hindus-to say nothing of the brutalities of the Communists and Nihilists of Europe whose history is yet to be. In conclusion, I would point to what I think is an important matter of detail. Even granting that the joint family system is fit to be destroyed, the question arises whether any middle course is possible between it and the family system of Christians, comprising only unmarried daughters and infant children, besides man and wife. If father and son have to live together, which I take is indispensable to our character, provision must be made for the joint living of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, and also for that of brothers and their respective wives. It has yet to be proved that to throw out the adult son, and to send forth brothers into opposite corners of the globe, coupled with the dangers of pauperisation already alluded to, are less than an equivalent loss as compared with the evils of the zenana system, infant marriages, and the fostering of idleness peculiar to Hindu joint family life. Besides, although it may be desirable enough that the inferior members of a joint family should not continue to be a burden upon those who earn most, yet it is a serious question if the character of the nation would not suffer materially, by the earning members being persuaded to cast out the drones of the family merely from an increased self-regard for their personal comforts. JOGENDRA CHANDRA GHOSH, "TE ART. V.-THE POETRY OF DEROZIO. HOSE whom the gods love die young" is a trite saying, more or less verified, in some fashion, in the life experience of most men. The promise of Derozio's early years might, or might not, have been realised. Those who knew him best and loved him most, believed, that, had life been granted him, he would have achieved for himself the very highest rank as poet and thinker. Notwithstanding all the praise bestowed on his early volumes by the press, and by warm-hearted admirers, Derozio did not, as has been asserted, rest on his oars and seek no higher fame, no more enduring monument of song and thought, than those embodied in boyish verse and speculation. Derozio himself believed, that he "had it in him," to rise to higher flights of thought and to delve deep down into the great heart of humanity; and this self-assurance of conscious power grew in strength, and found expression in conversation with those who came in contact with him during the few months preceding his death. A good deal has been said regarding the style of Derozio, that it is but an echo of Byron, Moore, and Mrs. McLean (L. E. L.), "exaggerated idealism and pictures of passion." No doubt, the influence of these writers exercised considerable power in moulding the form of much of Derozio's poetry. They were the poets then fashionable, and to depart from their models was, for a young unknown writer, to court defeat. Derozio's idea was, first, to gain the ear of the public by singing to them in the prevailing fashion of the day; and then, having gained a hearing, to strike out in that style in which his own nature would most vigorously drape his song. Commenting on a review of Derozio's poetry which appeared in the 13th No. of the Oriental Quarterly Magazine for December 1829, the Government Gazette, of about the same date, then edited by Dr. John Grant, than whom no one then living could speak with greater authority, says :- "When the Reviewer blames him (Derozio) for making the Byronic School too much his model, we must say for our young poet that he himself, at the time of publishing his Fakeer of Jungheerah anticipated that an objection against exaggerated passion and sentiment would be made. Why, then, it may be asked, did he not adopt a simpler model? This we shall briefly explain. In an article quoted from the Quarterly Review it is justly remarked that, 'whoever endeavours to rival the best models of ancient and modern times, must be sustained by his own inherent love of excellence, without depending on any other support.' He must give place to others whom fashion shines on. He (who would be popular) must be new and striking, or nothing. The consequence is that books are written, not in the manner that is best fitted to enlighten and amend, or even to instructively amuse the public, but to flatter it. Mr. Derozio was in no condition to be sustained by his own inherent love of excellence, without depending on any other support. The style adopted in the Fakeer of Jungheerah is not, we believe, the one most congenial to Mr. Derozio. This is very evident in the first volume he published. To bring out a book was to him, however, a serious undertaking, because one of the first considerations was, that the book should sell. To render this probable, he felt it necessary to give in to what he believed to be the general taste; and he was therefore obliged to adopt the popular and fashionable model. In process of time, however, when Mr. Derozio may be enabled to depend more upon himself than he was then, we have little doubt, that he will prove satisfactorily to the public, that he is not irretrievably wedded to exaggerated idealism, or pictures of passion." For ourselves, we believe with Dr. Grant that, had a few years more of life been possible for Derozio, he would have demonstrated to the full, what he had already demonstrated in part, that there was something more in him and his power of song, than sweet imitative echo. The judgment which an impartial world passes on men, and the position assigned them by an unbiased succeeding generation, free from the heats of personal likes and dislikes, and bitter controversy, is based, not on what a man might have been, or what at some early period of his life he may have been, but on what he actually was, and what he achieved up to the time of his death. It is on these lines we venture to estimate H. L. V. Derozio. The Fakeer of Jungheerah is a poem of two cantos, without a plot and with few incidents. It may be analysed in a sentence or two. A young Hindu widow is about to perform the rite of Sati, when she is rescued by a former lover, the leader of a band of lawless men, whose stronghold is the rock of Jungheerah. In a raid, the last on which he was to lead the band before quitting the lawless life for ever, the robber chief is killed and his band scattered, and Nuleeni is found dead in the arms of her dead lover. Around these few incidents, the genius of Derozio has woven some of the finest poetic imaginings; and there are parts of the poem which indicate, if they do not always reach, the true elements which distinguish the genuine poet; there are imagination, music, sympathy with nature and human nature, and thought. The opeing of the poem alone, contains gems of poetic metaphor which would have furnished almost the whole stock in trade of better known singers. Here is the thought of the opening, without the music. The viewless wind, wandering like young spirits on the wing, over flower bells, waking odours, rustling the grass, breathes like a lover's sigh. The sun-lit stream breaks into dimples, like a waking child, smiling in its mother's face. The sun, like heavenly hope, set over earthly care, pours blessing on the earth; and brings its beauties forth. The butterfly, like a flower plucked by an angel from the fairest bowers of heaven, to which wings had been added, has been sent to earth, as an earnest of what beauties bud in heaven. The bee on quivering, melodious wing, like a faithless lover, giddy, and wild, sips honey from the floweret's lips. Under the banyan tree, fanned by refreshing winds, the brain circled by fair fancies, and the thought arrayed in robes of song-a beauteous spot would be blessed to minstrelsy; and there the gifted bard might weave delicious dreams. Then follows a piece of vigorous description, but not by any means the best in the poem. The golden God of Day has driven His chariot to the western gate Where angels high to hail Him wait; There are choruses of women, and more descriptive passages. As flits the insect round the flame, So wheels the heart round passion's fire. Their blindness, madness, still the same, Alike in pangs they both expire. Until the warmth that round it plays Stanza XIX., the Hymn to the Sun, though cast in a somewhat hackneyed measure, has a steady flow and majestic ring about it, which ought to make it better known. HYMN TO THE SUN. God of this beauteous world! whom earth God of this glorious universe !-the sea Smiles in thy glance, and gladdens in And lifteth up its voice in praise to thee, God of th' immortal mind! with power to] O Sun! thy herald is the morning star, scan Thoughts that like diamonds in the cavern lie, Though deeply bedded in the breast of man, Distinct and naked to thy piercing eye. God of Eternity! whose golden throne Is borne upon the wings of angels bright; God of all goodness, thou art God alone, Circled with glory, diademed with light! Thou look'st from thy pavilion, and each cloud, Like fear o'ercome by hope triumphant, flies; The angry thunder's voice, though raving loud, At thy bright presence into silence dies. When all is darkness, like the sad soul's night, And tempests lower, like grief upon our hearts. Affrighted nature sees thy forehead bright, The black storm furls his banner, and departs. Thou mak'st the rainbow with thy golden beams Span the blue ocean rolling at thy feet; The flowers, the beauty of the earth, implore' The forest's green is of thy giving. Thou Prostrate to thee let all creation bow, For all creation at thy word had birth. Like fame preceding greatness; but when Comes on advancing with thy gilded car, away. The repetition at the close, of the opening verses, is a feature in the poetry of Derozio which occurs frequently. This repetition of the opening notes of the strain, as the closing lines are dying on the ear, and thus carrying the memory and imagination back through the whole effort, and again down the line in thought, is a true poetic instinct, which poets and musicians of the first order have frequently handled, in a fashion to produce results of the happiest and most powerful description. The first canto ends with Nuleeni and her lover safe together in the rocky home of Jungheerah. The closing verses are as follows: They're gone unto their rocky home O such a bird in such a nest! Yet, from that spot she will not roam, Yes! for where love in woman's form |