er--were on the
walls; a few casts of the finest statues--among others, that of the
Venus de Milo--around the room. His last copy of the "Francesca da
Rimini," and the original picture of "The Three Marys," and the yet
unfinished "Temptation on the Mount," were all there. On the easel stood
the picture of the "Group of Spirits ascending to Heaven." Such was the
aspect of this celebrated _atelier_, as we saw it in 1854. But "the
greatest thing in the room was the master of it." Ary Scheffer was then
about sixty years of age, but was still healthy and fresh in appearance.
His face was rather German than French, and bore the stamp of purity and
goodness in every line; but the eyes especially had the fire of genius
tempered by gentleness and love. It was a face which satisfied you at
once, answering to all you could ask of the painter of "Mignon," and the
"Christus Consolator." His manner was quiet and reserved, but courteous.
Unconscious modesty was the peculiar charm of his appearance. One of our
party said that he reminded him strongly of Allston. It was a reverend
presence, which forbade common topics, and strangers thus meeting had
few words to say. As we turned away, we knew that we should never meet
again on earth; but we had gained a new life, and we had beheld, as it
were, the face of an angel.

Two American artists stood with us in that room: one a fair young girl,
whose purity of soul was mirrored in her beautiful face, who had gone to
Paris to continue her studies in an art which she loved as she did her
life; the other, a man of mature age, whose high and reverent genius has
always met with a loving and faithful appreciation among his countrymen,
which does them as much honor as it did him. The young girl lay down to
die amid her labors, and her frail body rests amid the flowers and trees
of Montmartre; the grown man came home but to bid farewell to home,
friends, and life; the great artist whom we met to honor has gone home
too. A threefold halo of sanctity rests on that room to us.

To those who shared the privilege of Scheffer's friendship this room was
endeared by hours of the richest social enjoyment. His liberal
hospitality welcomed all ranks and all classes. It is related that Louis
Philippe once sat waiting for him in the _atelier_, and answered a knock
at the door. The visitor was delivering his messages to him, when the
artist returned, and was somewhat surprised to find his royal friend
playing the