lar facility in wringing a meaning from the most perverse designs, and in this pursuit artists had most liberally indulged them. He meant it darkly to typify the total destruction of French power, at least a gentleman who usually interpreted the meaning of his designs had put this construction on it; but for himself he had not made up his mind on the matter; he felt himself in the situation of the Scottish bard, "Perhaps it might turn out a sang,

Perhaps turn out a sermon." London was much too limited for the extent of his design, and he had to combat the perverse ignorance of his neighbours as well as overcome the sad taste of the present generation. He had resolved to cut the horse and dragon out of the earth under the figure of the Saint, but an adjoining proprietor had interfered lest his house should be undermined; but he would make the Saint fight the monster on foot, and this would make an agreeable variety. He had proposed to one of the committees which conduct matters of public taste to carve two of the loftiest Welch mountains into statues of Wellington and the Regent; but an eminent grazier from Smithfield had opposed him, lest London should lose its hopes of Welch mutton for the coming year. Their helmets might have been walled cities, and flocks might have continued to graze on their ample sides. These stupendous con

ceptions were crushed from the taste of the age for trifles. He was compelled to forsake Plinlimmon and stand by St George. He had done much for the sculpture of the present age, and had been repaid with neglect. He seduced Mercury from the service of the heathen, and placed him on British pay; and he brought Apollo and his lyre to charm a man whom all the poetry of mere mortals could neither elevate nor delight. He presented a new helmet to Britannia, which made her a goddess as good as new, and he gave her a thunderbolt well worth a forest of her old spears. In spite of all these high services, however, the world had sadly neglected him; his place was become as a desert, and the grass on his premises, seldom trodden by the foot of man, grew with a most mortifying diligence and luxuriance. As he proceeded, a lump of clay, which for some time had resisted every attempt of the artist to fashion it into a head of St George, dropped from the summit, and buried my declaiming conductor in a mass, out of which I found it difficult to extricate him. Having rescued him from this imminent peril, from materials which, in the metaphysical language of Cowley, threatened to become both his death and monument, I departed with the belief, that though dwarfish in stature he stalked a giant in his own esteem.

BROUGHTON and Slack were men of principle and integrity, as well as genius and talent, and when defeated, they were entitled to say, "all is lost except our honour." The muse of history has no cause to blush for them; they lie buried in the great road, not the cross-ways of fame, and from their tombs, "siste viator," calls the traveller to solemn thought and loftiest meditation. Such ever is the destiny of Virtue, against whom Misfortune contends in vain, and on whose crown of imperishable laurels Time himself laments to find his scythe fall impo

tent and edgeless. But Bill Stevens the Nailer was not a pugilist of this kidney. "His conquests," says Mr Egan, "at one time were so numerous, that he sat down like the great. Alexander, weeping that he had no more heroes to overcome. But gold, powerful gold, seduced him from his honesty, and ever afterwards, as he most justly deserved to be, he was without a friend to back him." The Nailer had not worn the crown above a twelvemonth and a day, when it was knocked off his brows by George Meggs, a Bristol collier. "Stevens scarcely

knew how to make a fight of it, and let Meggs drive him about as he pleased; and after seventeen minutes in humbugging the spectators, Stevens gave in. The sporting men were properly swindled on the occasion, and the Nailer had the impudence to acknowledge, soon after, that he was tipped handsomely to lose the battle. The nailers and blacksmiths of the metropolis were finely spoke to by the loss of this battle; and it is said, that a celebrated engraving, now extant, of a blacksmith's shop, where the Nailer had worked, the men of which had sported their little cash upon his head, was taken from their hearing he had lost the battle.

"I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news, Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,

Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet," &c. From the year 1761 to 1783, the championship was in a very unsettled state," and knocked about quickly from one nob to another, as there were few heads to be found whom the conqueror's cap could fit for any length of time." There was, however, no want of sharp fighting; but there was no great master-genius among pugilists in those days-like Scott or Byron among our present bards; and really we feel as if criticism would be thrown away upon the Meggs, the Jackaws, the Shepherds, and Lambs, who were about as good boxers-as Duke, Pomfret, Fenton, Broom, &c. were poets. Darts and Death were unquestionably the best fighting men spoken of by Mr Egan in his chapter entitled "Miscellaneous Pugilism;" and though there are a good many others, whom, by mentioning in this Magazine, we might

"Eternize here on earth,”

yet shall we imitate the example of our master, Milton, and pass them all over as he did the many dozen of devils whom he would not condescend to

name.

"Therefore eternal silence be their doom." But one hero there was who fought and conquered during this very debateable period, whom, for our very souls, we cannot pass by in this Miltonic manner; and it is with the high

est national pride, blended with the deepest shame, that we, as an Irishman, write down, in large capitals, the name of PETER CORCORAN.

sister country, was born at Athye, in the "A most celebrated pugilist, from the

county of Carlow, who took the lead for some years as a boxer in England, and might be said to be the best man of his time; was five feet eleven inches in height, well proportioned limbs, and of prodigious strength. Peter, from a boy, was distinguished for his uncommon intrepidity; and ther's mud edifice, as the cock of the realk! was looked upon in the vicinity of his faHe left Ireland a mere stripling; and in his peregrination to the metropolis, Birmingham chanced to fall in his way, and in which place, through an accidental skirmish, was not long in reaching London. Corhis fame rose so high as a pugilist, that it other tight boy, and it so fell out with Pecoran was accompanied from the sod by anter and his friend, for money was the tightest thing they had about them; but, notwithstanding this scarcity of rhino, hunger will often intrude where there are no pockets at all; and a beautiful little shoulder of mutton, hanging up at a butcher's shop, so fastened on the longing imagination of hungry Peter, that he could not pass it, and instantly went in to know the price. Some difference occurring respecting the terms, Master Steel, without ceremony threatened to knock the shoulder about poor Paddy's nob! It appeared that this butcher was a bit of a hit a body, and well known in Birmingham as a pugilist, and distinguished for his insolence, and who flattered himself hay-makers, as he termed them; but, in that he should have a little sport with these the sequel, it turned out somewhat different. Peter, who had not only felt himself baulked of his beautiful little joint, but insulted also, exclaimed, with all the fervour of the brogue, By, Mr Butcher, but you have too much prate-and for half a pin, I'd bate the mutton about your greasy carcass!' Paddy had scarcely uttered these words, when the butcher shewed fight, and a regular set-to commenced; a concourse of people soon collected, and Peter, with his clumsy thumps, served out the knight of the cleaver in the presence of his neighbours, and knocked down his consequence as a fighting man in the course of a few minutes; and shortly afterwards enjoyed his mutton with as keen an appetite as if nothing had happened! and the next day pursued his journey to London.

"Corcoran, upon his arrival in the metropolis, commenced coal-heaver, but which calling he soon left for that of chairman; and, owing to some trifling dispute, it was

not long afterwards when he went to sea, where the rough elements gave additional vigour to his athletic frame; and, from the frequent specimens he at times had display

ed, was considered, for a mill, the first man in the fleet, and was patronised by Captain Perceval. When at Portsmouth, he performed a number of feats of strength, and one, among the number, was beating a whole press-gang, and breaking the lieutenant's sword over his head. Peter, on leaving the navy, came to London, and took the Black Horse, in Dyot-street, St Giles's, where his disposition was experienced to be generous, truly good-natured, and remarkably tender-hearted. As a pugilist, he was a first-rate article, possessing bottom which could not be excelled, as he did not know how to shift, and scorned to fall without a knock-down blow! Peter was denominated a straight fighter; put in his blows with uncommon force; and possessed great confidence in his own powers. His attitude was considered too erect, his arms not sufficiently extended, by which means his guard was incomplete. But Corcoran was distinguished for the use of both his hands with equal facility; his aim was generally correct, and he scarcely ever missed the object in view; and was peculiarly successful in taking advantage of any trifling neglect in his adversary, and likewise celebrated for an extraordinary jumper.

Peter had several scholars, among whom was Big Pitt, well known for many years as one of the turnkeys of Newgate, a man of uncommon size and strength; and being one night at Joyces's house, a pugilist, in the Haymarket, brim full of conceit, surrounded by fighting men, foolishly exclaimed, that some of the milling coves had taught their pupils so well, that many of them were able to beat their masters !' Upon which Peter instantly got up, and addressing himself to Pitt- What's that you say, you spalpeen? come, come out!' Pitt stood up, but received such a leveller upon the head, as completely knocked all recollection out of him, for a few minutes, of what he had been throwing-off about! and upon recovering himself, acknowledged he had been most woefully deceived.

"Peter beat one Turner, who fought him for twenty pounds; and although the latter had beaten the Nailer, yet, in the hands of Corcoran, he was soon disposed of.

"In the Long-fields, behind the British Museum, Peter had a good battle with one Dalton, an Irishman; and also with Jack Davies. They were both beaten dreadfully.

A desperate contest took place in Moorfields, between Smiler, the brickmaker, and Corcoran, when Peter was again victo rious.

"The famous Bill Darts now mounted the state with Corcoran, for two hundred pounds, to give additional sport to Epsom races. The set-to commenced with cautious sparring upon the part of Darts, who soon discovered that he would not win; and in a short time gave in! A singular report crept

into circulation, accounting for Darts' losing the battle, that Colonel O'Kelly, one of the most celebrated sportsmen upon the turf, and who, undoubtedly, was awake to every manœuvre in gambling that could be tried on with any degree of certainty, either on the turf or at the table, play or pay-cockpit, or racquets, backed his countryman for a large amount; but to make his bets dead sure, on the night previous to the fight, he presented Darts with one hundred pounds not even to try to win the battle, but posi tivdy to lose it. Surely no thorough-bred sportsman could commit such a bare-faced robbery! And, upon the best information, we are assured, that Darts, in his prime, was never half man enough for Corcoran !

"Sam Peters, who fought Peter at Waltham-Abbey, in Essex, was the best man, according to Corcoran's own account, that ever set-to with him. It was a complete hammering fight; and, at the expiration of ten minutes, Peters declared he was satisfied; and Corcoran's body for several days afterwards was entirely black, the bruises were so extremely severe.

"Corcoran, who had hitherto beat all the men which had been brought against him, and whose powers appeared not in the least diminished, was now doomed to sink fast into obscurity, from his memorable contest with Sellers, a West Countryman. There is a considerable mystery hanging over that transaction, and it was most undoubtedly, at the period when they fought, October 16, 1776, the general opinion of the sporting world, that it was a complete do! it being well understood that Sellers was deficient in science and bottom when placed in competition with Peter. The battle was for one hundred guineas, and decided at Staines. On the set-to, Peter (who had always fought for victory previous to this combat,) began, as usual, and drove Sellers about the stage like a shuttle-cock, and put in a blow so powerful in its effect, as to knock down SelÎers, who fell at a considerable distance from him. The odds were considerably high on Peter; who, as if recollecting that he had done too much, immediately suffered himself, so as to make it have the appearance of a fight, to be beat about the stage for ten minutes, when he gave in! This contest, if it can be so called, took twenty-three minutes. The knowing ones were completely dished, at least, those who were in the secret, and the poor Paddies were literally ruined, as many of them had backed their darling boy with every farthing they possessed. St Giles was in a complete uproar with mutterings and disapprobation at Peter's conduct!

"Previous to the fight, Peter's house was almost destitute of any liquor-and he had been threatened with an execution for rent, &c. ; but in a day or two after the set-to, the house was flowing with all sorts of spirits, &c., graced with plenty of new pots; the inside and out painted, and every

thing got up in a superior style to what it had ever been witnessed before-and the very next morning after the mill, Peter Corcoran was playing at shuttles at the Blackeney's Head, St Giles's, with all the activity and cheerfulness of a man who had never been engaged at all in pugilism. He shortly afterwards sunk into beggary and contempt, and was as much despised as he had been before respected: and was so miserably poor at his decease, that his remains were interred by subscription! Reminding us, that

"Honour and shame from no condition rise, Act well your part-there all the honour lies!"

Alas! we cannot, when thinking of Bill Stevens and Peter Corcoran, exclaim

"Heu pietas, heu prisca fides, invictaque bello Dextra!"

But the age of Johnson and Big Ben succeeds, and while we exclaim "Visions of glory share our aching sight," we also find that our limits render it necessary that we defer our account of those distinguished Gluttons to another Number.

MR EDITOR,

WHOEVER has taken a philosophical view of the science and practice of music, must feel much interest in the Queries put by a Correspondent in your Twenty-Eighth Number,-Queries which are by no means answered in the succeeding one.

It happens, however, that our modern musical professors seem to think a philosophical view of the subject totally unnecessary-confining themselves to the routine of practice, and replying to every question beyond that with the general answer-" "Tis the nature of the key."

So far indeed they are right. It is the nature of the key; but if they are asked, "why it is the nature of the key?" their science is at an end. Just like the Indians, who place the world upon an elephant, and the elephant upon a tortoise, but are puzzled when asked "what the tortoise stands upon ?"

Even the best writers give up certain points in despair, saying, that they can only refer certain musical phenomena "to the will of the Creator," and decline any farther investigation of the intermediate causes; and well indeed may they do so, arguing up to musical feeling and expression from the vibrations of the minor chord, or to the more artificial arrangement of a keyed instrument.

But, sir, I can inform your Querist, that he will find a plain, ready, and simple solution to all his doubts and difficulties in a small work, published by Sherwood & Co. about four years ago, under the humble and unassuming title of the "Piano-forte Pocket Companion;" a work whose object is

to meet the first doubts and difficulties that spring up in the mind of the musical tyro, in the execution of which it explains (by means of a new but simple theory, in perfect consonance with all received musical facts) all the questions left unanswered by the most scientific writers. It is true that this theory is assumed in the first instance; but its proofs and explanations go hand in hand, so as to be intelligible to the youngest beginner, and, I should conceive, convincing to the most inquisitive.

The theory is, that musical sounds have their origin in human feeling, and therefore spring up first in the human mind; that utterance is given to them by the human voice, in consonance with which are the powers of sonorous inanimate bodies; and that they are carried back to the mind by the human ear.

It assumes, that when a human body is in a state of musical perfection, then the mind, the larynx, and the ear, are all tuned in perfect unison, which unison may be disturbed in any one of them by certain causes, when the disturbed member changes its key, and tunes the other two in unison with that change.

It divides all the feelings of the human frame, mental or corporeal, under two heads, pleasure and pain. It shews that each of these, in a state of nature, or infancy, prompts to the utterance of sounds, which, under the influence of the first, are uttered in certain intervals, ascending in the major key, and under the influence of the second, are uttered in similar intervals descending in the minor key.

It shews that the first is that natu

ral octave of the human voice, with which the ascending middle octave of C major, in a piano-forte or organ, is tuned in unison; and that the second is that natural octave of the human voice, with which the descending middle octave of C minor is tuned in unison, the key of A natural being so only in regard to the artificial arrangement of the tones and keys on the in

strument.

It shews that all the doubts and difficulties, in regard to the minor key, are easily explicable on the principle of its being naturally a descending key, the flats and sharps in its ascent being merely artificial; and that the transposition of the last semitone in descent is nothing more than a natural modulation into a major key, after relieving the feelings by the utterance of sounds in a minor octave.

It advances the anatomical theory, that the major key is the natural consequence of a braced fibre, of a braced and contracted larynx; and that the minor key is the natural consequence

of a relaxed fibre, of a relaxed and a widened larynx; also, that the tympanum of the human ear is a series of musical fibres capable of being tuned to every possible key of each mood, whose vibrations, elicited by unisons and by concords, give bodily as well as mental pleasure; or if elicited by discords, or sounds out of tune, give bodily as well as mental pain; but, in both cases, pleasure and pain being interwoven, just as the point of a penknife applied to the sole of the foot may either tickle or lacerate.

It shews that the common phrase of being out of tune is literally true, and explanatory of various difficulties; and it reconciles the whole artificial arrangements and variations of different instruments to its own general principle.

I may close by observing, that almost every one of the Musical Queries is in itself a proof of the truth of this new theory.-Yours,

IGNOTUS.

THIS is a posthumous publication, and has been given to the world, we understand, by the author's executors, Mr John Keats, Mr Vincent Novello, and Mr Benjamin Haydon. Such, at least, is the town-talk. We wish that these gentlemen had given us a short life of their deceased friend; but that, to be sure, would have been a delicate task. We have heard it whispered, that they found among his papers a quire of hot-pressed wire-wove, gilt Autobiography. Why not publish select portions of that? Neither have they given us a Face. This was unkind, for no man admired his face more than poor Hunt; and many and oft is the time that we have stood by him, at pond and stream, when he tried to catch a reflected glimpse of his "perked-up mouth" and "crisp curls" in the liquid element. The blame of this omission lies entirely at Mr Haydon's door, and we call upon him to justify himself before the public. A great historical painter like

Haydon ought not to paint portraits of ordinary men-mere statesmen or warriors-your Cannings and your Wellingtons, and so forth; but poets belong to a higher order of beings, and the Raphael of the Cockneys need not to have blushed to paint the divine countenance of their Milton.

But we must put up the best way we can with the want of a Life and Face, and rest satisfied with the image of the mind. It is not easy to explain why Leigh Hunt, the most fierce democrat and demagogue of his day, and whose habits and courses of life were altogether so very vulgar, should have been so fond of dedications to great people. "My dear Byron," was quite a bright thought; and we have sometimes imagined what "confusion worse confounded" must have reigned in the box at Hampstead, when the maid-servant announced his lordship, more especially if. it happened to be washing-day.

"Even in our ashes live their wonted fires,"