If we turn from Scheffer’s works to his life, our task is no less grateful and pleasing.  The admiration and affection which his countrymen express for his character surpass even what they feel for his works.  He was a noble, generous, active, benevolent friend of humanity.  He gave freely to all who were in need, counsel, money, advice, personal care, and love.  Young artists found him ever ready to help them.  “He gave them,” says M. Vitet, “home, atelier, material, sympathy,—­whatever they needed.”  Another writer, M. Anatole de la Lorge, said of him, while yet living,—­“Ary Scheffer has the rare good luck not to be exclusive.  His heart can pity every suffering as fully as his pencil can portray it.  A faithful and intimate friend of a now fallen dynasty, (that of Orleans,) proud, even distrustful towards men in power, indifferent to their opinion, inaccessible to their offers, Ary Scheffer, in his original individuality, is one of the most independent and most honorable political men of our country.  His studio is the rendezvous of all opinions, provided they are honest,—­of all religions, provided they are sincere.  There each one is received, not according to the habit which he wears, as the ancient proverb says, but according to the mind (esprit) which he has shown.  We say mind, but it is heart that we should say; for Ary Scheffer seems to us to estimate the latter more highly than the former.  His whole life proves it.”  Always an ardent friend of liberty, he was also a lover of law and order, and he rendered good service in their preservation in the capital during the Revolution of 1848, for which, he received honorable distinction.

The same writer quoted above gives an interesting description of his meeting with Ary Scheffer in the sick-room and by the death-bed of an Italian refugee, Emilia Manin.  A young Venetian girl, full of devotion to her country and her proscribed father, she supported her exile with all a woman’s courage, buoyed up by the hope of returning to her country, redeemed from its misery.  She is described as possessing extraordinary powers of mind and great beauty of person.  There were no questions, however sublime or abstract, which she did not treat with a surprising depth and sagacity.  “Her speech, ordinarily timid and feeble, became emphatic and stirring; her great, dreamy eyes suddenly acquired unequalled energy; she spoke of the misfortunes of her country in terms so moving as to draw tears from our eyes.”  But the body which contained this burning soul was very frail, “and the poor Emilia, the silent martyr, turned her head upon her pillow, and took her first hour of repose.  When no longer able to speak, she had traced with a trembling hand on a paper these last words,—­’Oh, Venice!  I shall never see thee more!’ She yet retained the position in which she drew her last breath, when Ary Scheffer came, as Tintoret formerly came to the bedside of his daughter, to retrace, with a hand unsteady