“Derby, Aug. 31st, 1783.
“My Dear Sir,
“It is recommended to the painters who wish to become eminent, to let no day pass without a line. How contrary, alas! has been my practice; a series of ill-health for these sixteen years past (the core of my life) has subjected me to many idle days, and bowed down my attempts towards fame and fortune. I have laboured under an annual malady some years, four and five months at a time; under the influence of which I have now dragged over four months, without feeling a wish to take up my pencil, till roused by your very ingenious and very friendly Ode, in which are many beautiful parts, and some sublime. Perhaps, had I then been furnished with proper materials for the action off Gibraltar, I should have begun my fire; but for want of such instructions, I soon sunk into my wonted torpor again, from which, as the weather grows cooler, I hope to awaken. Mr. Wedgwood approves of your subject of Penelope, as a companion to the Maid of Corinth. You mention the boy Telemachus being pale and feverish; pray, is there any authority in history for it? or have you mentioned it to give more character and expression to his mother? When I know this I shall make a sketch of it, and consult you further about it. Some little time ago, I received one hundred copies of your charming Ode (would I deserved what your warm friendship has lavished on me), some of which I distributed among my friends; but would it not be more advantageous to me to spread abroad the rest when my picture is finished—especially if I make an exhibition of it with some others?
“I am, dear Sir, with the greatest esteem,
“Your much obliged Friend,
“J. WRIGHT.”
Another writer, Anthony Pasquin,[35] in his “The Royal Academicians: A Farce, 1786,” gives this account of Wright’s secession from the Academy, which he puts into the mouth of Truth:—
“The inimitable Wright, of Derby, once expressed an ardent desire to be admitted a member of the Academy, but from what unaccountable reason his wishes were frustrated remains as yet a secret to the world; but the sagacious, or, rather, the envious brethren of the brush thought proper to thrust so eminent an artist on one side to make way for so contemptible an animal as Edmund Garbage (Garvey). They had scarcely invested this insignificant mushroom with diplomatic honours before they discovered that they had been committing a most atrocious, diabolical, and bloody murder upon two gentlemen of great respectability and character, ycleped Genius and Justice; and the pangs of their wounded consciences became so very troublesome, that it was resolved, in a full divan, instantly to despatch Secretary Prig to Derby with the diploma, and force these august privileges and distinctions upon the disappointed painter, that he had before solicited in vain. But, alas! the expedition was inauspicious and unfortunate; the diploma was rejected with the most evident marks of contempt, and the Secretary kicked as a recompense for his presumption.”
This account is, no doubt, a caricature of what actually took place, but it to a certain extent corroborates both Mr. Philips’ statement and the Poet Hayley’s allusions to the same event in his ode; and we must remember that the poet was also one of Wright’s intimate friends.
Mr. F. G. Stephens has kindly called my attention to the following extract from “Number 1: A Liberal Critique on the Exhibition for 1794,” by “Anthony Pasquin” (Williams), p. 15:—
J. WRIGHT, DERBY.
No. 107, “An Eruption of Vesuvius.”
No. 232, “A Lake at Dunkeld, in Scotland, Evening,” by the same Author.
No. 233, “A Village on Fire,” by ditto.
“This truly celebrated Artist has honoured the Institution by condescending to mingle his choice labours with the Harp Alley[36] excellence of a majority of the Royal Academicians. Feeling their importance so inordinately, it moves my wonder that these uplifted gentlemen do not eagerly contribute, by their own efforts, to the support of that order from whence they derive such prodigious importance, and not give the cavilling world occasion to remark that they have been honoured without desert, and retain the mummeries of the institution without gratitude. When I was in Paris, in 1787, they managed those affairs much better; the Royal Academy of Polite Arts there was conducted more nobly: every person was admitted to view gratis, what was meant as a free display of national genius, for national admiration. With us the motive seems cupidity, and the end deception. With the richest Monarch in Europe for their patron, the arts of England are literally kept from destruction by the votive shillings of a motley public, who pay the salaries of the professors, and find oil for the lamps in the plaister and living schools, though the King arrogates the character of being the high supporter of the system. But it is a provident assumption of dignity, unaccompanied with either risk, anxiety, or expense! He seems to possess the furor of patronage as highly as the tenth Leo, but I have as yet to learn that he is equally munificent.”
My own opinion is, that the facts as recorded by these writers were in the main correct. There seems no reason to doubt that Wright’s contributions to the annual Exhibitions at the Academy had been systematically placed in bad positions, and that he felt his abilities deserved recognition before those of Mr. E. Garvey, his competitor at the time, whose works consisted principally of small pictures of gentlemen’s seats. At this period, the Elections at the Royal Academy were contested, and interest was all-powerful; and nothing would have been more repugnant to the sensitive and honourable nature of Wright, than having to pass through the ordeal of canvassing for an election, where merit alone should have been the test.
It is to be regretted that no letters or other memoranda are to be found amongst Wright’s papers which throw any light upon his refusal of the diploma in 1784.
I am, however, able to give, in Wright’s own words, his version of his treatment by the Royal Academy during the years 1790, 1791, and 1794. From these letters we learn that Wright had again become an exhibitor in the Academy, but that his pictures were badly hung. This treatment calls forth these words from him:—“’Tis not the first instance of their base conduct. I have been driven from their Exhibition before, and must again withdraw myself, unless I could brook such abuse.”