“Rome, 13th Ap, /74.
“For Miss Nancy Wright, at Mr. Hurleston’s in Cary Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London, England.
“What havock, my dear Nancy, does a little time make in the small circle of one’s acquaintance, and how weak and tottering is the basis on which human happiness is founded. Poor Mrs. Van! I left her a happy wife, smiling amidst a joyous family, but now, by one fatal stroke, suddenly involved in bitter calamity, in deep affliction, a sad disconsolate widow. I hope to God Mr. Van has left her so circumstanced that she will feel no additional sorrow on that consideration. He was a good man, and has no doubt done what he could for his dear family. When you see them or write to them, give my love to them, and say I let fall many a sympathetic tear. While I am in this gloomy scene, let me enquire after the afflicted. Pray how does Mrs. Shelton, I fear from your expression she’s relapsed into her old malady. Our good friend, Mrs. Fox, amidst ye calamities of this world, with her usual good sense & fortitude, I hope keeps up her spirits & is tolerably happy. How does our friends do at Chester, and to go a little farther, how is Mr and Mrs. Clayton, is he got well of his indisposition? Remember me to all my friends in terms agreeable to the esteem you know I hold them in.
“In your first letter you mention something of my Brother’s indisposition, nor is my Brother more particular about it, from which I judged it was slight; but a letter from Tate, and yours, whch now lies before me, sadly convince me to the contrary. My suspicions made me uneasy, & the proof has made but little abatement in it; however, as it is now only the effect of his illness, I hope he will make daily advancements to health. I am pleased to hear Mr. Meynell has behaved so well to my Bro., and that Mr. Greasley—to whom our compts.—is so ready to assist him & is kind. Tate will have a letter from Hurleston while in Town, but as he was not so civil as to ask me if I had any commands, or give me an opportunity of writing a word or two, I must desire you to tell him I shall be glad if he would look after the picture of the Hermit, see whether any accident has happened to it, and deliver it safe to Sotheby to keep till I return to England. Mr. Hurleston, to whose family give our respectful compliments, will inform Tate concerning the picture. I should write to Tate, but he must excuse me at present, for I have so much employment for my eyes (wch by the by are not so good as they have been) in the art I am in search of that I cannot afford to use ’em otherwise; hence the reason I have never wrote to my good friends Pether, Rawson, Capt. French, R. Tate, Turner, &c.
THE CONVENT OF ST. COSIMATO, NEAR VICOBARO, AND REMAINS OF THE CLAUDIAN AQUEDUCT, ON THE RIVER ARNO.
Note.—The writer is indebted to the proprietors of the “Art Journal” for the above, and several other illustrations in this work.]
“We are now fixed in very good apartments in the most healthful part of this city. The house stands upon the highest ground, and we have 109 stairs to ascend to them, which I fear will be very inconvenient in hot weather. Here are upwards of 40 English students, and many cavaliers, wch makes Rome a much dearer place than I expected.
“Rome answered my expectations at first, but my love & admiration of it increase daily. ’Tis a noble place to study in, and if so many years had not passed over my head I shou’d be tempted to stay longer.
“Tell Tate to take notice whether my picture[17] is hung advantageously in the Exhibition, and it may be sold in the catalogue, and whether mention is made that I am at Rome. I have set 80 guineas upon it, but I would take 70 rather than not sell it.”
“Rome, May 22, /74.
“Dear Sister,
“After waiting many a post-day with great impatience and anxiety, I at last recd a letter from my dear brother; from my sister and Coltman’s letters, I had reason to have expected one much sooner, wch made the delay intolerable, and filled me with many a doubt and many a fear, lest he should have relapsed into his grievous illness. I have felt much on ye occasion, and the account he has given me of it (tho’ the danger I hope to God is over), is even now very alarming, from the reflection of what might have happened. You, my dear sister, being witness to the malady, must have suffered much: I sincerely wish him a speedy and perfect re-establishment of his health. Ill health is one of the greatest evils that can befall man in my opinion, the truth of wch both you and myself have had woeful experience, and I am sorry to hear you still labour under the affliction. Mine, thank God, is much better. This climate is certainly very salutary, and would, I think, perfectly restore me, was not my attention and application continually engaged with the amazing and stupendous remains of antiquity; and so numerous are they, that one can scarce move a foot but the relics of some stupendous works present themselves. When I consider the immense size of the whole, and the beauty of the parts, I cannot help reflecting how trifling and insignificant are the present operations of mankind; we are no better than infants, and ought to wear daiding strings. I have no time to enter into a particular detail of the fine things this country abounds with; let it suffice to tell you at present, that the artist finds here whatever may facilitate and improve his studies. The Antique remains of Art, as I said before, are wonderful. The natural scenes are beautiful and uncommon, with an atmosphere so pure and clear, that objects twenty miles distant seem not half the way.
“The women are in general handsome, they walk admirably, and have a gentility and ease about them peculiar to themselves. ’Tis not in the costliness of their habits that they outdo the English, but in the form and manner of wearing them. Vast quantity of fine hair, elegantly disposed of, with sometimes a very small cap, with jewels, &c., are the ornaments of their head; and when they go out, instead of putting on a hat, they wear black gauze, wch is gathered behind, and hangs from the upper and back part of the head over the face: of a beautiful woman or rather face, one sees so much as to make one wish to see more; of a plain one, it partly conceals the defects. They all wear long trains to their gowns, however ordinary the stuff, wch has a grand effect. The common people dress in the same manner, tho’ with worse materials, and from the mutual intercourse one with another—for in the summer months they sit in the streets and pursue their occupations—they have an easiness of deportment that is amazing; their dress, too, which is perfectly easy and picturesque, contributes much to it.
“J. WRIGHT.”
“Rome, Aug. 10th, /74.
“My Dear Brother,
“ ... The thermometers are now at 97 degrees. My wife received the letter you mention, and has answered it by post. As Tate has left Manchester for the present, desire he will write to his brother to wait upon Burdett for the pen-and-ink drawing he has of mine, which Mortimer gave me, & wch I would not lose on any account. I suppose I shall suffer much by him.”
“ ... We have had but little society here—none with the Italians—for the want of language cuts off all intercourse. Learning a new language at my time of life is a very arduous task, and would take up more of my time than I can spare. It is astonishing how little I have got of it; and yet, when I consider my time is entirely spent amongst the antique statues and paintings, the wonder ceases, for they speak not the language.”
“ ... Since we came here we have seen St. Peter’s & the Villa de Medicis, of wch I can say nothing; they beggar all description. They abound with objects for the artist’s contemplation. It is now Carnival time; the Romans seem to me all going mad. The gentln & ladies parade in their carriages up & down a long street whimsically dressed in masques, the most beautiful of wch was young Mr. Coke, our Member’s son. You know he is very handsome, and his dress, wch was chiefly white, made him appear charming indeed. The lower class walk up & down the streets practising their wit one upon another, consistently with the character they put on.
“J. WRIGHT.”
“Rome, Aug. 11.
“To Miss N. Wright.
“ ... A post or two ago I wrote to my Bro., by which letter you will learn my dear Nancy was safely delivered of a fine little wench, who is now seven weeks old, hearty and bonny. I watch with infinite pleasure its infant state, and slow advances to sensibility. I pray God it may prosper, it will make me happy—our mode of dressing it is so different to the Italian, it raises their admiration; for instead of the loose, light, and easy dress we have, they swaddle their children from head to foot, like so many Egyptian mummies, and have neither use of their hands nor feet; in hot weather it is filthy and intolerable, and I observe when the little creatures are let out of prison at night they discover a pleasure, which condemns the practice.
“J. WRIGHT.”
“Rome, August 14, /74.
“To Miss N. Wright.
“I am heartily sorry, my dear Nancy, so many uncouth circumstances have happen’d to embitter your life, and ruffle that bosom which I know is so well formed for peace and sweet repose. The world, you know, is made up of good and ill, and would exist not but for contrarieties; every individual that helps to compose the whole has his portion, and happy it is for him whose scale of good fortune makes light the adverse one. Minds there are, my Nancy, so fraught with fortitude, patience, and philosophy, as blunt the edge of ills, and bear sharp fortune with a degree of composure as is astonishing, but this, my love, is a power, a faculty of mind few can boast of; yet, I flatter not, when I say you possess these virtues in a desirable degree, and now (sorry I am for the occasion) call them forth, and soothe as much as may be, your troubled breast. Well I know how grievous the indisposition of your lover must be to you, yet consider a little time may make a great change in him; he’s young, and has naturally a good constitution, wch doubtless will soon overcome the present malady. May I prove a good prognosticator, and may you both be happy.
“My pictures are in great estimation here. I am shortly to be introduced to the Pope; it is thought he will honour me with his medal....
“J. WRIGHT.”