86 
WILLIAM ETTY. 
Lawrence, but the work was not congenial; he preferred, as 
he says, “ to think for himself.” 
In 1809 Etty’s kind uncle died, leaving him, however, a 
handsome legacy, which was of great service, for he had now 
to find a home for himself. His brother continued to help 
him when necessary, though it was many years before Etty 
was able to re-pay the money so generously supplied. He 
worked more strenously than ever, hut at first had no success 
in competition for medals, and once again almost gave up in 
despair, hut with renewed resolution set to work again to 
master the technicalities in which he found himself deficient. 
FI e drew from the skeleton, continued his studies from the 
Antique and at the Life School, working early and late, till 
after six years’ regular study his first picture was accepted 
and hung at the Academy in 1811, Tclemachus rescues ihe 
Princess A nliope from ihe wild boar. A smaller one, entitled 
Sappho, was hung the same year at the British Institution, and 
sold for twenty-five guineas. No contemporary criticism is 
extant on these exhibits, hut his eariy pictures have been 
described as “ black and colourless attempts at ideal subjects.” 
H is genius ripened slowly, handicapped by lack of early 
training. Erom that time he continued to exhibit regularly, 
hut without attracting much attention, adding portraits to his 
“ studies ” a year or two later, hut all of small size, 3ft. by 2ft. 
pin., 2ft. by 2ft. yin. In 1816, Etty paid his first visit to the 
Continent, intending to stay a year in Italy to study, hut he 
was away only three months. He was not in good health, 
and was besides so terribly home-sick that he was quite unfit 
for work. He wrote very interesting accounts of his ex¬ 
periences on the journey, by way of Rouen and Paris to 
Switzerland, and thence into Italy, and despite the many 
inconveniences and discomforts of the journey this artist eye 
delighted in the beautiful scenery and glorious effects of colour. 
He got as far as Florence, and there suddenly resolved to go 
back, leaving Rome and Naples unseen. He worked a little 
at Florence and Milan, and again a little more in Paris, and 
then returned to London, where he settled down to hard work, 
gaining ground slowly but surely, painting chiefty classical 
subjects. In the Autumn of 1818, at the age of thirty-one, he 
