Chapter C: Lamb

9th _July_, 1819.

This characteristic note in Lamb's best punning manner ("I fancy I succeed best in epistles of mere fun; puns and that nonsense") may be regarded as a prologue to the drama played ten days later, the whole occupying but the space of a single day.

If your Bones are not engaged on Monday night, will you favor us with the use of them? I know, if you can oblige us, you will make no bones of it; if you cannot, it shall break none betwixt us. We might ask somebody else, but we do not like the bones of any strange animal. We should be welcome to dear Mrs. Listons, but then she is so plump, there is no getting at them. I should prefer Miss Iver's--they must be ivory I take it for granted--but she is married to Mr. ----, and become bone of his bone, consequently can have none of her own to dispose of. Well, it all comes to this,--if you can let us have them, you will, I dare say; if you cannot, God rest your bones. I am almost at the end of my bon-mots.

C Lamb

9th July, 1819]

And now the curtain is lifted on the play in which Lamb and Miss Kelly are the chief actors. Lamb is in his lodgings in Great Russell Street, Covent Garden, the individual spot he likes best in all London. Bow Street Police Court can be seen through the window, and Mary Lamb seated thereby, knitting, glances into the busy street as she sees a crowd of people follow in the wake of a constable, conducting a thief to his examination. Lamb is seated at a table, writing. We, unseen, may glance over his shoulder and see the letter which he has just finished.

DEAR MISS KELLY,--

We had the pleasure, _pain_ I might better call it, of seeing you
last night in the new Play. It was a most consummate piece of
acting, but what a task for you to undergo! at a time when your
heart is sore from real sorrow! It has given rise to a train of
thinking which I cannot suppress.

Would to God you were released from this way of life; that you
could bring your mind to consent to take your lot with us, and
throw off forever the whole burden of your Profession. I neither
expect nor wish you to take notice of this which I am writing, in
your present over-occupied & hurried state.--But to think of it at
your pleasure. I have quite income enough, if that were to justify
me for making such a proposal, with what I may call even a handsome
provision for my survivor. What you possess of your own would
naturally be appropriated to those for whose sakes chiefly you have
made so many hard sacrifices. I am not so foolish as not to know
that I am a most unworthy match for such a one as you, but you have
for years been a principal object in my mind. In many a sweet
assumed character I have learned to love you, but simply as F. M.
Kelly I love you better than them all. Can you quit these shadows
of existence, & come & be a reality to us? Can you leave off
harassing yourself to please a thankless multitude, who know
nothing of you, & begin at last to live to yourself & your friends?

As plainly & frankly as I have seen you give or refuse assent in
some feigned scene, so frankly do me the justice to answer me. It
is impossible I should feel injured or aggrieved by your telling me
at once, that the proposal does not suit you. It is impossible that
I should ever think of molesting you with idle importunity and
persecution after your mind [is] once firmly spoken--but happier,
far happier, could I have leave to hope a time might come when our
friends might be your friends; our interests yours; our
book-knowledge, if in that inconsiderable particular we have any
little advantage, might impart something to you, which you would
every day have it in your power ten thousand fold to repay by the
added cheerfulness and joy which you could not fail to bring as a
dowry into whatever family should have the honor and happiness of
receiving _you_, the most welcome accession that could be made to
it.

In haste, but with entire respect & deepest affection, I subscribe
myself