The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 84, October, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 84, October, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
[Here the manuscript becomes illegible for two or three sheets onwards,
which we presume to be occasioned by the absence of Mr. Munden, jun.,
who clearly transcribed it for the press thus far. The rest (with the
exception of the concluding paragraph, which seemingly is resumed in the
first handwriting) appears to contain a confused account of some lawsuit
in which the elder Munden was engaged; with a circumstantial history of
the proceedings on a case of breach of promise of marriage, made to or
by (we cannot pick out which) Jemima Munden, spinster, probably the
comedian's cousin, for it does not appear he had any sister; with a few
dates, rather better preserved, of this great actor's engagements,--as
"Cheltenham, [spelt Cheltnam,] 1776," "Bath, 1779," "London,
1789,"--together with stage-anecdotes of Messrs. Edwin, Wilson, Lee,
Lewis, etc.; over which we have strained our eyes to no purpose, in the
hope of presenting something amusing to the public. Towards the end, the
manuscript brightens up a little, as we have said, and concludes in the
following manner.]
---- stood before them for six-and-thirty years, [we suspect that Mr.
Munden is here speaking of his final leave-taking of the stage,] and to
be dismissed at last. But I was heart-whole,--heart-whole to the last,
Sir. What though a few drops did course themselves down the old
veteran's cheeks? who could help it, Sir? I was a giant that night, Sir,
and could have played fifty parts, each as arduous as Dozey. My
faculties were never better, Sir. But I was to be laid upon the shelf.
It did not suit the public to laugh with their old servant any longer,
Sir. [Here some moisture has blotted a sentence or two.] But I can play
Polonius still, Sir: I can, I can.
Your servant, Sir,
JOSEPH MUNDEN.
* * * * *
In the "Reflector," a short-lived periodical set up by Leigh Hunt, and
in which Lamb's quaint and beautiful poem, "A Farewell to Tobacco," and
his masterly critical essays on "The Tragedies of Shakspeare," and on
"The Genius of Hogarth," and other of his early writings, appeared, I
find the following characteristic article from Elia's pen.
The reader will observe (and smile as he observes) that there is a great
difference between the "good clerk" of fifty years ago and the "good
clerk" of to-day. He of yesterday is a wonderfully simple, humble,
automaton-like person, in comparison with the brisk, dashing,
independent "votaries of the desk" of the year eighteen hundred and
sixty-four.
* * * * *
THE GOOD CLERK: A CHARACTER.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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