1 Lord Byron, in his preface to a recent publication, complains that among other black arts resorted to, for the purpose of injuring his fair fame, he has been accused of receiving considerable sums for writing poetical puffs for Warren's blacking. We can safely acquit his Lordship of this charge, as well as of plagiarism from the poems he alludes to; but it has led to a curious rencontre between the blacking-laureat, and his patron the vender of the shin-ing jet; and after considerable black-guardism between the parties, the matter is likely to become the subject of legal discussion among the gentlemen of the black robe. The poet, it appears, received half a crown for each production, from the man of blacking, which the latter considered not only a fair, but even liberal remuneration for poetic talent; not overlook-ing, that while the pecuniary reward would produce comfort, and add a polish to personal appearance, the brilliance of the composition, (both of poetry and blacking), would be fairly divided between he authors of each; and that the fame of both would be conjointly handed down to posterity, and shine for ever in the temple of fame. Now it requires no uncommon sagacity to perceive, that but for this unfortunate mistake of the public, the poet would have remained satisfied, as far as pecuniary recompence went, with the half-crown,—looking to futurity for that more complete recompence, which poets ever consider far beyond pudding or sensual gratification,—fame and immortality; but, alas! “From causes quite obscure and unforeseen, What great events to man may sometimes spring.” Finding from Lord B.'s own statement, that the public had duly appreciated the merit of these compositions, and had attached so high a value, as even to mistake them for his Lordship's productions, our bard was naturally led into a train of reasoning, and logical deductions, as to what advantage had, and what ought to have resulted to himself, according to this estimate, by public opinion.—Lord B. and his great northern contemporary, it appeared, received thousands from the public for their poems, while half-crowns (not to be despised, during certain cravings, but soon dissipated by that insatiable and unceasing tormentor, the stomach,) was all the benefit likely to accrue in this world to the original proprietor: in a happy moment, a happy thought flitted athwart the poet's mind; and like the china seller in the Arabian Nights, he found himself rolling in ideal wealth; and spurning with disdain the blacking merchant, the blacking, and the half-crowns, he resolved on a project by which to realize his fondest wishes of wealth, happiness, and independence. The project was this: to collect together the fugitive blacking sonnets, so as to form a volume, under the title of Poems supposed to be written by Lord Byron, and offer the copyright to Mr. Murray; and in case of his refusing a liberal sum, (that is, some-thing approaching to what he pays the Noble Bard per Vol.) to publish them on his (the author's) own account, and depend on the public for that support and encouragement which their favourable decision had already rendered pretty certain. Now then comes 'the rub;' the blacking vender, hearing of our poet's intention, files a bill in Chancery, praying for an injunction to restrain the publication, and claiming an exclusive right in the literary property: the poet, in replication, denies having assigned or transferred the copyright, and thus issue is joined. His Lord-ship, with his usual extreme caution, where important rights are involved, wished to give the matter mature consideration, and said, “he would take the papers home, to peruse more attentively.” It will be recollected, that in the cause, respecting Lord Byron's poem of Cain, his Lordship stated, that during the vacation he had, by way of relaxation from business, perused that work and Paradise Lost, in order to form a just estimate of their comparative merits; and who knows but during the present vacation, his Lordship may compare the blacking sonnets with “Childe Harold,” “Fare Thee Well,” &c.; and that on next seal day, the public may be benefited by his opinion as to which is entitled to the claim of superior excellence; and how far the public are justified in attributing the former to the noble author of the latter.
“Then,” continued Sparkle, “there was a rustic usually mounted on a white hobby, with a basket on one arm, who used to invade the northern purlieus of London, mumbling Holloway Cheesecakes, which from his mode of utterance, sounded like 'Ho all my teeth ake.'”
“Ha! ha! ha!” vociferated Tallyho, unable to restrain his risibility.
“Numerous other instances might be adduced,” continued Sparkle: “among many there was a noted Pigman, whose pigs were made of what is called standing crust, three or four inches long, baked with currant sauce in the belly, who used to cry, or rather sing,—
?A long tail'd pig, or a short tail'd pig,' &c.
There was another singular character, who used to be called Tiddy-doll, a noted vender of gingerbread at Bartholomew, Southwark, and other fairs; who to collect customers round his basket used to chaunt a song, in which scarcely any thing was distinctly articulated but the cant expression Tiddy-doll: he used to wear a high cocked hat and feather, with broad scolloped gold lace on it; and last, though not least, was Sir Jeffery Vunstan, of Garrat fame, who used to walk about the streets in a blue coat with gold lace, his shirt bosom open, and without a hat, accompanied by his daughter, Miss Nancy, crying ould wigs.”
“Old wigs,” reverberated Bob, “an extraordinary article of merchandize!”
“Not more extraordinary than true,” replied Dashall; “but come, I suppose we shall all feel inclined to write a few lines to the country, so let us make the best of our time.”
Upon this signal, each flew to the exercise of the quill, and indulged his own vein of thought in writing to his friend; and the day closed upon them without any further occurrence deserving of particular remark.