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WILLIAM ETTY. 
hitherto chiefly studied in Paris. The trip only lasted ten 
days, and was followed by another the following year; the next 
trip was to France to make studies for the Joan of Arc series. 
At the Academy, Etty continued his attendances at the Life 
School up to the last, even when suffering acutely from 
asthma, and when he settled down in York to enjoy his hardly- 
earned rest he still continued to paint as long as he could hold 
a brush. Like other successful painters he was constantly 
being applied to for advice and help by young students, which 
he always tried to give, sometimes accompanied by the present 
of a drawing. While in London he kept open house on 
Tuesdays, in early days beginning with breakfast, but that was 
given up latterly as being too exciting. Fuseli, Flaxman, 
Stothard, Constable, Hilton, Maclise, Dyce and Herbert, and 
many others, with Turner, were always welcome guests. 
The year after his retirement to York an exhibition of his 
paintings was held in London, at which he was anxious to 
have as representative a collection as possible, though from 
one cause or another some of his favourites could not be shown. 
He personally superintended the arrangement and hanging of 
the pictures, thereby securing a well-contrived concord of the 
whole, equalling the splendour of the individual works. It 
was a great triumph, and at once established Etty’s fame on a 
footing it had never before attained, and extended a knowledge 
of the Poetic Colourist alike to those who had known nothing 
and those who had seen only a few of his works. He stayed 
in London till the exhibition closed, visiting it nearly every 
day, and attending the Life School till the end of the session. 
He waited to superintend the packing and removal of his 
beloved pictures, taking silent leave of them with tears in his 
eyes, and then came back to York, on September 29th; broken 
in health, though still able to totter about the familiar scenes 
and paint at times. The end came on November 13th, after a 
Anal illness of ten days from congestion of the lungs. 
It had always been his wish to be buried in the Minster, he 
had often spoken of it, and had sometimes thought of a picture 
from his own hand as his monument. His reasons are 
touchingly expressed in a letter to his friend Mr. John Bulmer, 
written from a sick bed, he says :—“ Lay me by my Bride ; 
she who is so lovely to mine eyes, so dear to my heart, 
captivating to my imagination ; whose brow is bound round 
with rubies, with sapphires, with amethysts, with emeralds ; 
