To the noble Knights, Ladies, and Gentlemen of Norfolk, and to those especially that declared their desires to promote the Gospel among the Indians in America, by their bountiful encouragement to Mr. John Eliot, Grace, Mercy, and Peace. Sir John Hobart, Kt. and Bart. June 25, 1660. Major Gen. Skippon. Jo. Spelman of Narburgh, Esq. Barnaby Googe. HAVING a vacant space, I take this opportunity of registering the descent of BARNABY GOOGE, which has accidentally met my eye in a MS. Vol. of old pedigrees. It explains his alliance with Kentish families, which I conjectured in Censura Literaria. Margaret daughter of Sir Walter Mantell Kt. and sister of Sir John Mantell who was attainted of felony with the Lord Dacres of the South, married Robert Googe, Gent. and had issue Barnaby Googe, who married Mary, daughter of Thomas Darell, and had issue. As to this marriage with Darell, I shall hereafter give some curious Letters. Remarks on the true Character of Poetry. THE highest and best province of poetry is, as I conceive, to arrest, describe, and fix, the association of the material with the intellectual world. This is the prime characteristic of our two first Bards, Shakespeare and Milton. It is prominent also in Spenser; and it marks the exquisite pieces of the most celebrated of our modern writers, Gray. We have also some living poets, in whom it is conspicuous, In early ages of literature, it is scarcely possible that this merit should exhibit itself in any striking degree and it has a tendency to decline again, as composition becomes too much of an art; till sudden revolutions in society, and times of energy and violence, bring back the faculties of men to something of former vigour. I have more frequently observed a genuine love of true poetry in those who pursue in obscurity "the noiseless tenour of their way," than in men of cold, disciplined, and artificial minds, who too generally lead the public taste. That conversance with an ideal world, which cheers and enriches solitude, and which it is the business of the Bard to stimulate and assist, is discouraged, and perhaps utterly depressed, in the bustle of society, where readiness, selfpossession, and a cautious and freezing judgment, are in constant demand and exercise. No one can really love poetry who is not an enthusiast: and what is there, in the intercourse of the world, so much exposed to ridicule, danger, and defeat, as enthusiasm? The taste of the mob, whose wits are sharpened by perpetual collision, (the great, as well as the little mob) is epigram; and then satire. As to those, who undertake professionally to guide the public judgment, we know the extraneous influences to which they are subject. Every work of periodical criticism is under the bias of views political or religious, totally alien to poetical merit. And where these prejudices do not operate, a rival perhaps, or one of a different school, pronounces a verdict upon his brother poet. I know not that the intellectual Colossus of the North writes poetry; beautifully, though not always consistently, as he criticizes it: but it is generally understood that some eminent poets of the day are among those who habitually dictate opinions to the public, on others engaged in the same art. In this conflict, I fear that the blow which prostrates the poor mangled Bard, is ill compensated by the feeble plaudits which the attack generally draws upon him from the rival party. Mr. Wordsworth does well to go his own way amid his sublime lakes and mountains, deaf to the contradictory dogmas of these critics: they would palsy the hand of Spenser, or Shakespeare, or Milton, even when about to throw it across the harp in their most inspired moods. True poets would be less infrequent, were they not overcome by the false taste of critics, and a pusillanimous subjection to vulgar opinion. Poetry is addressed to the noblest faculties of our intellectual nature; to those which, in proportion as they exist in combination, most exalt us above the material part of our being! All science, and almost all human learning, is adapted to an artificial state of mind: Poetry requires no ad, ventitious knowledge to render it intelligible and delightful, in proportion to the native gifts of understanding and sensibility: it reflects, as in a mirror, all those movements of the soul, which lift the human species from the brute to the angel. It is too often the business of what is called philosophy, but surely a spurious philosophy, to destroy the illusions which constitute the essence of poetry. The mind, rich in stores of sentiment and imagery which it associates with natural objects, is gifted with the materials of the poet's art. When the cold separating Sage comes to tear away these ornaments, as ignes fatui only leading astray, he thinks he is performing an act of benefit and wisdom! Alas! he extinguishes the cheering sun of the bosom; the light which warms the soul in its earthly tabernacle! But versifiers, who have not a single intellectual quality of the Muse, are daily obtruding their mechanical productions on the public, while real poets, diffident, neglected, or insulted, suffer their brilliant visions to expire in their own breasts! While Soame Jenyns and Paul Whitehead were among the favourites of their day, poor Collins was committing to the flames, in indignation, the solitary impression of those divine Odes, which no one would buy or notice! The frantic shrieks of the agonized Bard echoed through the hollow passages of the cloisters at Chichester, which had been witnesses to the fond whispers of his early dreams of Fame! Alas! how dreadful are the sufferings of Genius, when its cries are thrown on an hard and unhearing world! April 18, 1815. Biographiana. Collectanea for Athena Cantabrigienses. COLE before his Athena says-" Notwithstanding Boccalini's censure on the writers of Parochial Histories, Towns, and Counties, and Bishop Warburton's severe criticisms of the same complexion, and on Anthony Wood, at p: 64, of his scarce book, printed early in his life, 1727, called A critical and philosophical Enquiry into the Causes of Prodigies and Miracles, as related by Historians, &c. yet I beg leave to dissent from them both, though of such eminence. Private history, anecdotes of men of learning and character, notices of customs and manners, are not only amusing, but instructive of the usages of early ages, and of our country and ancestors." He afterwards says "In good truth, whoever undertakes the drudgery of an Athenae Cantabrigienses, must be contented with no prospect of credit or reputation to himself; and with the mortifying. reflection, that after all his pains and study through life, he must be looked upon in an humble light, and only as a journeyman to Anthony Wood, whose excellent bock of the same sort will ever preclude any other, who shall follow him in the same track, from all hopes of fame; and will only represent him as an imitator of so original a pattern. For at this time |