The fine discrimination evinced by Munden in the
grief and joy of the exclamations "Who would be a father," and "Who would
_not_ be a father," will not soon be forgotten. We think we see and hear
his stout figure, in black, with florid face, and powdered hair, his
raised and clasped hands,--rushing out of the lockup-house scene in all
the fervid extasy of a father rejoicing at the escape of his son from
destruction. In Crack, Dozey, Nipperkin, and other drunken characters, his
drollery was irresistible. His intoxication displayed as much
discrimination as his pathetic performances. Who can forget his stare in
being detected in his fuddling as Dozey, and his plea for drinking to
"_wa-ash_ down your honour's health:" or his _anti-polarity_ as Nipperkin,
when his very legs seemed drunk beneath him; his attempt to set down the
keg would stagger the disbelievers of perpetual motion. Again, who did not
relish the richness of his voice, and the arch crispness which he gave to
some words, while others came not trippingly off his tongue, but lingered
and jarred with an effect which accounts for so many imitators. His mouth
had a peculiar twist, somewhat resembling that of Mathews, which at times
almost forbad his plain speaking.
We have seen that Munden was
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Had ta'en with equal thanks.
As he ripened, he became tinged with the old gentlemanly vice. He almost
made penury his hobby. Oxberry's widow asked him, after his retirement, to
play for her benefit: he said he could not, but that, if ever he performed
again, he would present her with 100_l_.
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