eys its silent message to all those who have eyes to see
and hearts to feel.

Only a love and sympathy as wide as the world could have produced the
"Gleaners," the "Sower" and the "Angelus."

Millet was what he was on account of what he had endured. All art is at
last autobiography.

The laborer's cottage that he took at Barbizon had but three small, low
rooms. These served as studio, kitchen and bedchamber. When the family
had increased to eleven, other rooms were added, and the studio was
transferred to the barn, there at the end of the garden.

Millet had two occupations, and two recreations, he once said. In the
mornings he worked in his garden, digging, sowing, planting, reaping. In
the afternoons he painted--painted until the sun got too low to afford
the necessary light; then he went for his daily solitary walk through the
woods and fields, coming back at dark. After supper he helped his wife
with the housework, put the children to bed, and then sat and read until
the clock struck midnight.

This was his simple life. Very slowly, recognition came that way.
Theodore Rousseau, himself a great artist, and a man too great for
jealousy, spread his fame, and the faithful Sensier in Paris lost no
opportunity to aid his friend by the use of a commercial shrewdness in
which Millet was woefully lacking.

Then came Corot, Daubigny, Diaz and others of giant stature, to Barbizon,
and when they went back to Paris they told of Millet and his work. And
then we find Meissonier, the proud, knocking at the gate of Le Grand
Rustique.

It is pleasant to recall that Americans were among the first to recognize
the value of Millet's art. His "Sower" is the chief gem of the Vanderbilt
collection; and the "Angelus" has been thought much more of in France
since America so unreservedly set her seal upon it.

Millet died in Eighteen Hundred Seventy-five.

It was only during the last ten years of his life that he felt
financially free, and even then he was far from passing rich. After his
death his fame increased, and pictures he had sold for twenty dollars,
soon changed hands for as many hundred.

Englishmen say that America grew Millet-mad, and it may be true that our
admiration tipped a bit to t' other side; yet the fabulous prices were
not always paid by Americans--the rich men of earth vied with each other
for the possession of a "Millet."

The "Gleaners" was bought by the French Government for three hundred
thousand francs