Those who enjoyed the biography of Liston will chuckle over the autobiography of Munden.  It was certainly a happy idea to represent Munden as writing a sketch of his life,—­not to gratify his own vanity, or for the pleasure and entertainment of the public, but solely and purposely to prevent the truthful and matter-of-fact biographer of Liston from making the old player the subject of a biographical work.  The veteran actor’s vehement protests against being represented as a Presbyterian or Anabaptist, and his brief, but pungent comments on certain passages in the Liston biography, are delightful.  Methinks I see the old man,—­

    “The gray-haired man of glee,”—­

the great and wonderful impersonator of the “Cobbler of Preston” and “Old Dozey,”—­methinks I see this fine actor, this genial and jovial comedian, and his son, gravely and carefully examining the great map of Kent in search of Lupton Magna!

Leigh Hunt, in his Autobiography, speaking of some of Elia’s contributions to the “London Magazine,” thus mentions these two “he-children” of Lamb’s:—­

“He wrote in the same magazine two lives of Liston and Munden, which the public took for serious, and which exhibit an extraordinary jumble of imaginary facts and truth of by-painting.  Munden he made born at “Stoke Pogis”; the very sound of which was like the actor speaking and digging his words.”

* * * * *

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. MUNDEN.

In a Letter to the Editor of the “London Magazine."

Hark’ee, Mr. Editor.  A word in your ear.  They tell me you are going to put me in print,—­in print, Sir; to publish my life.  What is my life to you, Sir?  What is it to you whether I ever lived at all?  My life is a very good life, Sir.  I am insured at the Pelican, Sir.  I am threescore years and six,—­six; mark me, Sir:  but I can play Polonius, which, I believe, few of your corre—­correspondents can do, Sir.  I suspect tricks, Sir; I smell a rat:  I do, I do.  You would cog the die upon us:  you would, you would, Sir.  But I will forestall you, Sir.  You would be deriving me from William the Conqueror, with a murrain to you.  It is no such thing, Sir.  The town shall know better, Sir.  They begin to smoke your flams, Sir.  Mr. Liston may be born where he pleases, Sir; but I will not be born at Lup—­Lupton Magna for anybody’s pleasure, Sir.  My son and I have looked over the great map of Kent together, and we can find no such place as you would palm upon us, Sir,—­palm upon us, I say.  Neither Magna nor Parva, as my son says; and he knows Latin, Sir,—­Latin.  If you write my life true, Sir, you must set down, that I, Joseph Munden, comedian, came into the world upon Allhallows Day, Anno Domini 1759,—­1759; no sooner nor later, Sir:  and I saw the first light—­the first light, remember, Sir—­at Stoke Pogis,—­Stoke Pogis, comitatu Bucks, and not at Lup—­Lup Magna, which I believe to be no better than moonshine,—­moonshine;