formerly came to the bedside of his
daughter, to retrace, with a hand unsteady through emotion, the features
of Emilia Manin. This holy image, snatched by genius from death, is one
of the most admirable works we have ever seen. She lies there, extended
and cold,--the poor child!--in that peace unknown to the life which she
had lived in the body. It is, indeed, the intelligent brow from which
the inspiration of her soul seemed to speak. It is the delicate mouth
and the pale lips, which, never uttering a murmur, betrayed the
celestial goodness of her heart. In truth, it would have been difficult
to hide our emotion, in recognizing--thanks to the pure devotion of the
painter--the touching features of this innocent victim, whom we had
known, loved, and venerated during her life. Some hours later, we again
found Ary Scheffer sustaining with us the tottering steps of Manin upon
the freshly removed earth which was soon to cover the coffin of his
child."

By the same loving and faithful hand were traced the features of the
Abbe de Lamennais, a name so dear to those who live in the hope of new
progress and liberty for humanity. "At the moment," says M. de la Lorge,
"when death was yet tearing this great genius from the earth, the pencil
of the artist restored him, in some sense alive, in the midst of us all,
his friends, his disciples, his admirers. Hereafter, thanks to the
indefatigable devotion of Ary Scheffer, we shall be permitted to see
again the meagre visage, the burning eyes, the sad and energetic
features of the Breton Apostle."

Into the domestic life of Scheffer it is not at present our privilege to
enter. Some near friend--the brother, the daughter, the wife--may,
perhaps, hereafter, lift the veil from the sacred spot, and reveal him
to us in those relations which most deeply affect and most truly express
a man's inmost nature. We close this notice with some slight sketch of
his life in the _atelier_.

None could enter this room without a feeling of reverence and
sacredness. In the failing light of a November afternoon, all was
subdued to a quiet and religious tone. Large and commodious in size, it
was filled with objects of the deepest interest. Nothing was in
disorder; there was no smoke, no unnecessary litter; yet everywhere
little sketches or hints of pictures were perceptible among the casts,
which one longed to bring forth into the light. A few portraits
especially dear to him--best of all, that of his moth