author clearly evinces in the work preceding this, was at first extremely simple; yet even this did not long hold its simplicity. Though nothing can be more express than some passages in the Edda concerning the supreme government of ONE God, yet those intelligencers who are supposed to act by his commands receive in it too much veneration; their assistance seems nearer than that of a Deity, whose very name calls to our imagination the immense distance between him and his creatures: yet must we still remember (says M. Mallet), that the Edda is but a poetical mythology, in which the real opinions of those times are set off with all the luxuriance of a heated imagination.

A King of Sweden, says the Edda, named Gylfe, astonished at the respect his subjects paid to some people who had newly come from Asia, was resolved to travel to Asgard, habited like an old man, and under the fictitious name of Gangler, with intention to improve by the journey.

On his arrival there, he was introduced into a magnificent palace, where he had a long conference with three kings, Har, Jafnar, and Thredi, whom he found seated on thrones in one of the inner apartments. These conferences are comprised in thirty-three fables, of which the first part of the Edda is composed. There we see those remarkable passages already hinted at with relation to the Supreme Being. Gangler demands, "Who is the supreme of the gods?" Har replies, "Him whom we call Alfader, that is, Father of all." Gangler again asks, "What has he done to make his glory appear?" Har replies, " He lives eternally. He governs his dominions, and things great and little, with great care." Jafnar adds, Jafnar adds, "He has made the heaven, the earth, and the air."-" He has done more than making an heaven, or an earth," continues Thredi; "He has made man, and infused into him a living soul, which,

even after the body is reduced to dust and ashes, shall continue to live for ever."

The three first fables abound in allegories, as extraordinary as an imagination the most fruitful of wonders could possibly conceive, on the formation of the earth, and the creation of man. Here may be perceived, however, striking resemblances of the doctrine of Moses, with respect to the luminous matter before that of the sun and moon; as also of the deluge, and the history of the giants spoken of in Genesis. Our author, in his notes, takes care to point out these similitudes; and remarks, that of all the known systems, that of the ancient Persians most approaches the mythology of the Edda: an observation which greatly serves to confirm what several learned men have advanced, that anciently there was no difference between the Persians and Celtes.

The fourth fable describes Odin as father of gods and men, and who by his virtue has produced all things. Friga (or the earth) is his daughter, and wife, on whom he begat his son Thor. This doctrine of the union of the Deity with the earth, is of great antiquity. It has been generally received in all the Celtic nations; nay, the Greeks themselves adopted the same sentiments, as appears by the history of Saturn and Rhea. And here our author ingeniously remarks, that thougn in this mythology the concourse of Deity and matter produced the universe, yet there is a vast difference, according to the Celtes, in these two principles. The Supreme God was eternal. By him matter was made, and consequently had a beginning. The name also of Thor, their son, signifies, in the language of the north, thunder; and our Thursday even now is called by the Flemish, donderday, or the day of thunder.

Nothing, however, can be more ridiculous than the system of physics that runs through the whole Edda, particu

larly the sixth fable. A horse with his shining mane scatters light, and illuminates the earth and air. Two little children, with a pitcher suspended at the end of a stick, accompany the moon, and occasion its eclipses. The sun runs very swiftly; for two wolves, ready to devour him, continually follow. In this fable we have the origin of a custom received among us, the source of which seems to have been forgotten. The Edda gives the night pre-eminence over the day; it precedes, and out of it the day is produced. Hence we say, 'this day se'nnight', for seventh night; fortnight', for fourteenth night. Thus customs taken from forgotten opinions are often erroneously attributed to the effects of chance or caprice.

The eighth fable takes for its title, The Holy City, or the Residence of the Gods. In it we hear of Odin demanding a draught of the Fountain of Wisdom, but obliged to pawn one of his eyes for the grant. Thus, we see the father of heaven wanting an eye, which Mimis keeps as a pledge in his own possession, and every morning bathes it with hydromel. A strange allegory this; and, what is worse, we want the key for its solution. In this fable also we find a complete theory of Fairyism. Three virgins whose names, as in the Celtic language, are past, present, and future, as fates, dispense the periods of man's life; but there are several who assist at his birth, and decide his future fortune." Fairies, according to the conjectures of our author, were deified prophetesses, for the Celtic women excelled in every sort of superstition, particularly in augury; and perhaps those who were most distinguished in this art, were raised to the rank of gods. The ninth fable treats of Thor, son to the father of the universe, who conquered the giants, who performed many wonderful exploits, and whose palace was called an asylum against fear. He too, like the Persian Mithras, was the symbol of fire, and like him a merciful divinity, a mediator between God and man.

In the sixteenth and seventeenth fables, in the histories of Loke and Loup Fenris, we have the principle of evil characterised in the most perspicuous and striking manner. Loup Fenris is represented as a being educated by the gods, till they perceived, "that he every day most surprisingly increased in stature, and till the oracles had apprised them he should one day be their foe. Accordingly they united to bind him, and the execrations he then poured forth were most horrible; since when, the " foam issues from his mouth in such abundance, that it forms a river called Vam, that is to say, vices ;-but this monster will break his chains at the twilight (crepuscule) of the gods, in other words, at the end of the world."

But the great event which the Edda never loses sight of, is the future destruction of the world; and the description of it, in the thirty-third and thirty-fourth fables, is to the last degree sublime and picturesque. Take an instance in the following sketch. "Loup Fenris advances, opening his enormous jaws, the lower of which descended to earth while the upper was lifted to heaven, and would have aspired even above the heavens, could it find room. Destroying flames burst from his eyes and nostrils; he vomits floods of poison, that overwhelm the air and the waters in the inundation. In the midst of this tumult the heaven divides, and the genii of fire come riding through the chasm." We are displeased to find Odin, the father of all, perish in the dreadful catastrophe. This contradicts his eternity; but we are not to expect precision in poetical mythology.

Vodar, his son, however, became at last victorious, and reduced all things to order. And, says the Edda, when this world shall be consumed by flames, again shall spring from the sea another earth, beautiful, pleasing, and cloathed with landscapes of unceasing verdure. The author, in a note at the end of the last fable, gives us the doctrine of

the Edda, stripped of its poetical ornaments and its adventitious allegories: "And though," says he, "the Edda should have no other merit than that of informing us what the Celtes thought of futurity, even for this it might deserve to be saved from oblivion."

III.-THORNTON AND COLMAN'S CONNOISSEUR. (1)

By

[From the Monthly Review, 1757. On "The Connoisseur. Mr. Town, Critic and Censor General." 4 vols. 12mo.] When fate or fortune calls from us the friend whose society has contributed towards the pleasure or the happiness of our lives, how gladly do we substitute in his room all that remains of him! We find consolation in every pledge of friendship he has left behind, and cherish every relic that reminds us of our past satisfaction. The Connoisseur has taken leave of the public, and every admirer of good taste and good humour must regret his departure ; but he here commits to their patronage a new edition of his

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(1) [The publication of the "Connoisseur was commenced in January 1754, by Bonnell Thornton and George Colman. Thornton had been one of the contributors to the "Adventurer;" and Colman, at the age of twenty, had then made, what was probably his first appearance in public as a prose writer. Their humour and their talents were well adapted to what they had undertaken; and Beaumont and Fletcher present what is probably the only parallel instance of literary co-operation so complete, that the portions written by the respective parties are undistinguishable. "Cowper," says Mr. Southey, "contributed a few papers to the Connoisseur.' One of them is upon the subject of Keeping a Secret; and though written in a strain of levity, it had so good an effect upon himself, that he says, 'from that day he believed he had never divulged one.' If he had not the same virtue of discretion before (and so it may be inferred from such an acknowledgment), this is a remarkable instance of the benefit that may be derived from calmly considering what our opinions are upon any question of practical importance, before it happens directly to concern us."-Southey's Cowper, vol. i. p. 49.]