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Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, January 29, 1806

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Title	Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, January 29, 1806
Creator	Hunt, Leigh, 1784-1859
Date Original	1806-01-29
Description	Concerning his journey to Scaithing Moor.
Personal Name Subject	Hunt, Leigh, 1784-1859 Hunt, Marianne Kent, 1788-1857 Hunter, Ann Kent Hunter, Rowland Kent, Elizabeth, 1790-1861
Geographic Subject	England -- Nottinghamshire
Chronological Subject	1800-1810
Type (DCMIType)	Text
Type (AAT)	Correspondence
Type (IMT)	jpeg
Digital Collection	Leigh Hunt Letters
Contributing Institution	University of Iowa. Libraries. Special Collections Dept.
Archival Collection	Brewer-Leigh Hunt Collection
Collection Guide	http://www.lib.uiowa.edu/spec-coll/resources/Brewer-LeighHunt.html
Location	bound MsL H94hum3 leaf 11 (one of 8 letters in MsL H94hum3)
Rights Management	Educational use only, no other permissions given. This letter is owned by The University of Iowa Libraries Special Collections Department, and is provided here for educational purposes. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the Special Collections Department.
Contact Information	Contact the University of Iowa Libraries Special Collections Department: lib-spec@uiowa.edu
Height (cm)	23.5
Width (cm)	19
Number of Pages	6
Number of Sheets of Paper	3
Digitization Specifications	Photographed with 12.3MP Nikon D300 camera at 300ppi. Archival tiff image available.
Date Digital	2008-09-24
Transcript	Scaithing Moor, Nottinghamshire Wednesday Eve. 8 o'clock. [?January 29. 1806][1] So Harry Hunt came to Scaithing Moor , To Scaithing Moor came he ; And when he came to merry Scaithing , He swallowed some cho-co-la-te . Well, my dear Marian, I am now 135 miles from you, and yet I do not find you are a jot farther from my heart. My journey has been nothing but snow, sleet, and wind; but I am now sitting by a blazing fire in the snuggest inn I ever saw, a little confusion of head is the only unpleasant sensation I feel, and I take up my pen to converse with you. Heaven bless the inventors of pens and postmen ! I happened to meet in the coach, when I set off on Tuesday Morni- - - Marian. (lifting up two bright astonished eyes) On Tuesday morning, sir! You must mean /Wednesday/ Monday morning, sir ! H. Madam, you must excuse me: I mean Tuesday morning . M. Why, Sir, you took leave of us on Monday morning . H. Yes, Madam, and the coach took leave of me . M. Why, Sir, the coach went off at eight ? H. /yes/ (with much sorrow) Yes, Madam. [Page Break] M. You were too late, Sir ? H. (with much sorrow) Yes, Madam . M. And lost half your fare ? H. Yes, Madam . M. A guinea and a half ? H. Yes, Madam . M. Well, Sir, you have only paid a guinea and a half for a lesson of prudence . H. True, Madam. Some pay as much for a lesson on the fiddle. Which is the most useful of the two ? M. But, my dear Sir, why didn't you return to Titchfield Street ? H. Why, my dear Madam, there is something inexpressibly foolish in going twice on the same errand in vain. I took a place a The White Horse in Fetter Lane, so I slept in Gray's Inn to be in time next morning . M. Well, my dear Henry, all is well that ends well. I was afraid at first that you had been detained by a worse accident . H. You are the dearest girl in the world, and if you please I'll go on with my story. I was going to tell you that I found a citizen and his wife in the coach; one of the best natured couples in the world. These have been my companions all the way: last night the coach left us to sleep at Wandsford, and the citizen and I being struck with each other resolved to travel the rest of our journey in a post-chaise. [Page Break] Here we are then round a blazing fire: the citizen, a genteel stout man who gives me to understand that he has a house in Lombard Street and a country seat at Blackheath, is lounging at the right side of the fire; his wife, a very pretty woman a little younger than himself, that is, about six or seven and thirty, with a beautiful complexion and sparkling hazel eyes, sits right before the fire; and your humble servant is writing on the left corner before two silver candlesticks: the room is about the size of your drawing-room, the curtains down to the ground, a noble rug under our feet, the wind whistling outside the house to a moonlight sky, and all three of us much refreshed and gratified by a roasted barndoor fowl and a glass of Nottingham ale, which has constituted our supper. I tell you all this because I know that every thing I have been about will interest you. Affection like melancholy magnifies trifles: but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects; that of the other like enlarging monsters with a microscope . My companions are going to Bawtry, which is at some little distance from Gainsborough: the latter town I shall reach tomorrow noon. They are great travellers, have made excursions over most part of England, and understand the notions of postboys and inns, a knowledge very useful to me, who have given shillings where I find I should have given pence only. The citizen however is so liberal that I can hardly imagine sometimes that he can have a house in Lombard[2] Street: he gives the postboys a shilling extra when they have had a tempestuous journey, and [Page Break} seems to have the knack of making others as generous as himself: last night I slept at Wandsford, eat a bason of milk and bread for my supper, another in the morning for my breakfast, and had an excellent bed after sitting an hour at an excellent fire: for this I had to pay 10 pence, a bill so moderate, that it astonished even the veteran travellers. Some writer has said, that the man who cannot enjoy himself in the snugness of an English inn will enjoy himself no where:[3] I agree with him with all my soul: there is something delicious in jumping out of a chaise, throwing yourself into an arm chair, and poking a huge fire. If I only had you by my side-but I must not talk about that, or I shall be impatient to get back again . Make my remembrances to Mr. Hunter, and beg him to go for me to Creighton's Circulating Library in Tavistock Street, and pay another month's subscription for me: it is about two or three shillings. If you or any of the family can find in the catalogue any book you might wish to read, you can procure it.- No: upon second thought I beg pardon; you cannot, for I have got the books, that should be exchanged, with me. The least I can do for Mr. Hunter in return will be to write to him. Tell Mrs. Hunter that I have neither palpitations nor risings, and that I send her my best regards for all her care of me. <Des> Request Bess not to speak so loudly another time, for I heard what she said of me last night at ten o'clock: I hope sincerely that your Heigh-hos! and her Oh! Ohs! -are both gone. I don't care whether [Page Break] Anne[4] snores or no, for I do not hear the winds at night, so I have some hopes her nightly melodies will not reach me. I will not ask you to write to me immediately for two reasons: in the first place you had reason to expect a letter from me before this, but I arrived at Wandsford last night at twelve terribly fatigued and hardly had time to swallow my breakfast there this morning: secondly I know you do not want asking. Pray let me know how Mrs. Robertson[5] is with her pretty little miniature of a girl. Good God! How ought we not to love woman, who suffers so much for our being and our happiness! I hope there will never be a moment of your life, which will not be a witness to the assiduity and the tenderness of Your affectionate & grateful J. Henry L. Hunt . [Page Break] Miss Kent , Little Titchfield St . Cavendish Square , London.
Transcript Notes	1. This is the first letter LH wrote to Marianne from Nottingham. The second letter, as LH called it, was also dated Wednesday and was postmarked on February 7, 1806. This letter, then, must have been written on the preceding Wednesday, that is, on January 29, 1806 . 2. "Lombard" underlined twice . 3. LH may be referring to Samuel Johnson's remark that "There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn" (James Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson L.L.O, 2 vols. [London: 1791], March 21, 1776) . 4. May be Mrs. Rowland Hunter's maid . 5. Mrs. John Robertson.
Transcript By	Cheney, David R. (David Raymond), 1922-2006
Transcript Location	Ward M. Canaday Center for Special Collections: http://www.utoledo.edu/library/canaday/index.html
Letter Published In	Thornton Hunt, ed. The Correspondence of Leigh Hunt. London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1862, vol. I, 29-32.

Title	Page1
Relation - Is Part Of	Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, Jan. 29, 1806
Digital Collection	Leigh Hunt Letters
File Name	h94hum3-11_Page1.jpg
Transcript	Scaithing Moor, Nottinghamshire Wednesday Eve. 8 o'clock. [?January 29. 1806][1] So Harry Hunt came to Scaithing Moor, To Scaithing Moor came he; And when he came to merry Scaithing, He swallowed some cho-co-la-te. Well, my dear Marian, I am now 135 miles from you, and yet I do not find you are a jot farther from my heart. My journey has been nothing but snow, sleet, and wind; but I am now sitting by a blazing fire in the snuggest inn I ever saw, a little confusion of head is the only unpleasant sensation I feel, and I take up my pen to converse with you. Heaven bless the inventors of pens and postmen! I happened to meet in the coach, when I set off on Tuesday Morni- - - Marian. (lifting up two bright astonished eyes) On Tuesday morning, sir! You must mean /Wednesday/ Monday morning, sir! H. Madam, you must excuse me: I mean Tuesday morning. M. Why, Sir, you took leave of us on Monday morning. H. Yes, Madam, and the coach took leave of me. M. Why, Sir, the coach went off at eight? H. /yes/ (with much sorrow) Yes, Madam.

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Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, January 29, 1806

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Leigh Hunt letter to Marianne Kent Hunt, January 29, 1806

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