Rousseau, a dear friend and fellow making some successes and some fail• artist to Millet, although at this time himself struggling for recognition, bought several of his paintings for a much larger sum of money than the public would have paid him. In eighteen hundred and fifty-three some amateur began to make a collection of his drawings, a fact somewhat encouraging to Millet, besides which he received a commission from M. Letrone, to the extent of several thousand francs. About this time he commenced the painting of "TheAngelus, "the picture that was destined to be the crowning piece of all his work. The idea, suggested by the evening Angelus, at the close of one warm and quiet day, when he was passing a little village church, so filled his mind that it inevitably found expression through the means of his artistic execution. Slowly and thoughtfully he commenced to transfer this idea to a canvas; slowly his subject grew and developed under his skilful hand. And upon his canvas he wrought not only objects and figures, but also the feelings and sentiments that flooded his own soul, at the ringing of the Angelus, and caused him to thus express himself. It is not merely the two peasants, standing with bowed heads, repeating the Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria, that constitutes the leading feature of the picture, but the spirit of deep devotion that seems to pervade the very atmosphere, and inspires all beholders with awe, knowing that at the ringing of the bell of that distant village church, one and all are called upon to drop whatever occupies them, and turn their thoughts to that which the ringing of the Angelus commemorates. Never before, or after, did any work of Millet's equal in harmony of touch and color, nor in strict adherence to nature, this one-a fact universally acknowledged among art connoisseurs. By the presentation of this painting to the world, he was to thoroughly awaken it to the depths of his genius and talent, and to an almost new conception of art. While "The Angelus" was in process, he presented other paintings to the Salon, ures, which kept him in a constant state of anxiety, until a friend and patron offered him, for all the work he could do in a year, twelve thousand francs. Some of his works of this period were displayed at the Brussels exhibition, and attracted considerable notice. In the Salon of eighteen hundred and sixty-three his "Peasant Leaning on a Hoe," caused a very war among the critics; and later he won a medal by his "Shepherdess." But it was at the Universal Exposition, in the year eighteen hundred and sixty-seven, that "The Angelus" first appeared before the public, when a number of his paintings, headed by this one, were placed on exhitition. This display won him more attention than he had ever been the recipient of before. His works were now beginning to receive their due appreciation, Leaders in the artistic world turned their attention to Millet, and extended their hands to help him. The Administrator of Fine Art, at this time, made him a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, and in eighteen hundred and seventy his name was sixth on the list of jurors for the coming exposition. When his genius was thus commencing to find recognition, he was approaching a stage of life in which he was unable to enjoy to the fullest extent, his successes. His health was beginning to fail. A series of misfortunes, caused by disasters of the Franco-Prussian war and by his departing health, prevented him from executing several valuable commissions. He was fast declining. He did not suffer long, for quitting his work in the fall of the year eighteen hundred and seventyfour, this wonderful artist, who had done so much toward revolutionizing French art, died at six o'clock in the morning of the twentieth of January, eighteen hundred and seventy-five. But his memory and works still lived, and were destined to render his name more famous than he, even in his wildest dreams, had ever hoped it would become. Through all his hardships and sufferings what a full compensation it would have been to him to be able to look forward to "THE ANGELUS.” the rich harvest his works were to reap, particularly his great masterpiece, "The Angelus!" But like some of his contemporaries, his bold originality was doomed to meet with a most discouragingly cold reception by those accustomed to the classical school of art, until their eyes and understandings should be opened and they should learn to sympathize with him. The first public appearance of "The Angelus," after the death of its author, was at the sale of Mr. John W. Wilson's collection, at his hotel in the Avenue Hoche, in March, eighteen hundred and eighty-one. It was valued, at this sale, at one hundred and thirty thousand francs. There were in Paris, at this time, but two collectors capable of contending for a masterpiece of such value. They were Messieurs Dofoer and Secretan, both extremely wealthy men. It was M. Secretan who was fortune enough to become its possessor, at the cost of one hundred and sixty thousand francs. For eight years it remained the gem of his collection, the central jewel of a crown of honor to the possessor, among other masterpieces and precious artistic objects of great rarity, which he had gathered together. In fact, this collection was one of the most splendid ever brought together by a single individual. But in time, M. Secretan, meeting with reverses of fortune, was compelled to allow a sale of these paintings. For several months before its time, this sale aroused great interest among artistic circles all over the intelligent world, while in Paris almost a feverish excitement prevailed. The magnificient quality of the collection, the colossal outlay of money which its accumulation represented, were factors in arousing the enthusiasm of connoisseurs, and in exciting the material interest of the larger general public. The French people were greatly opposed to the dispersement of a collection displaying such value and taste, and strenuously objected to its sale. How ever, the sale proceeded. After some little discussion the Galerie Sédelmeyer was chosen as the scene upon which this 165 should take place, also where the pictures should be exhibited. In one gallery appeared examples of the old masters and their contemporaries; in another were shown the pictures of the French school of the last century; and in still another the modern pictures were arranged, with "The Angelus" in the place of honor, on an independent stand. "The Angelus" received its due amount of attention. The stranger visited it as a shrine, recognizing in it an expression of the noblest and most elevated religious sentiments. The Frenchman visited it with even deeper feelings and emotions. It was the crowning work of their great master, a monument of national pride. It was the expression of French life and thought, and no tribute was too great to lay before it. Frenchmen, gazing upon it, almost experienced the depth of feeling in which the artist had painted it, thrilling their souls and quickening their pulses, so thoroughly did it appeal to their sympathies. When the day of the auction arrived, the excitement and enthusiasm of the public had reached a tension only to be excelled by the moment of sale for the central picture of the collection. In the auction hall were gathered lovers of art, it seemed, from every part of the globe, representatives of wealth and nobility, collectors and buyers of pictures. The audience was indeed large and diversified. All was silence when M. Paul Chevallier opened the sale with the three strokes of his ivory gavel. The terms of sale were declared, and number by number the pictures were brought forth for the contest. Lively at the first and becoming more so, as the sale proceeded, the climax was not reached until, amidst the utmost heat and excitement, the auctioneer announced, "We will now sell number sixty-three of the catalogue, 'The Angelus,' by Millet. What am I bid?" One hundred thousand francs was offered, but it created such an uproar of disapproval that the announcement was made that no bid of less than three hundred thousand francs could be considered. A double bid of this sum immediately followed. Then the repre sentative of the Corcoran Gallery in Washington made it one hundred thous and francs more. Then came a bid in behalf of M. Antonin Proust, the French Minister of Fine Arts, adding to this sum fifty thousand francs, and M. Montaignac, one of the representatives of the American Art Association, of New York, increased the bid to half a million francs. The contest amongst these three proceeded hot and fast, until the superb offer of five hundred and fifty-three thousand francs conceded "The Angelus" to M. Proust. The nation seemed determined to possess the masterpiece of its great master at any cost. There was intense joy and enthusiasm amongst the French over the manner in which the sale had terminated. But it was destined to be short-lived, for the state did not stand ready to ratify the purchase made by its representative. At this point Mr. Sutton stepped in, and in behalf of the American Art Association, offered to take over “The Angelus" at the price it had been adjudicated to him. This proposition was accepted by M. Proust, and the painting thus found its way to the shores of America. "The Angelus" found among the people of the United States, almost, if not quite as much appreciation and warm responsiveness, as it found in France, be it said to their credit; and many, looking upon the wonderful painting, so still and so living, stop and listen, exclaiming as did Sensier as he watched, over Millet's shoulder, the artist put the finishing touches to his work, "It is the Angelus," and in Millet's own words it seems to respond, "It is indeed. You can hear the bells." "Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria!" We hear the words murmured soft and lowly by the two French peasants, who stand, hands devoutly clasped, and eyes resting humbly on the ground. "Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria!" Those immortal words sounding adown the echoing halls of generations of the future, will not fail to awaken recollections of one whose name is emblazoned indelibly upon the escutcheon of fame, and after those words of prayer will sound this name-a name which will always be remembered by lovers of art, and it will be that of Jean François Millet! G. L. B. DESPONDENT! Hungry for sympathy! There's desolation, Though earth blooms in verdure and blue is the sky; Hungry indeed, without anticipation Of food to the heart, which is shriveled and dry. Hungry for love! This is famine-starvation, More fearful than hunger for bread, by the way; Ah, life is a fraud, if it bring not salvation By welcome of love, and its life-giving ray! Hungry! Though tables may groan by collation Of dainties,as culled from a nation's full store; Though guests may partake on such festive occasion, And appetite deem it a feast conamore ! 'Tis vanity, nay, is it not a vexation, A banquet of earth, all of heaven left out; Insipid and tasteless, devoid of sensation, Where loneliness reigns amid revel and rout? Great Heaven, protect from so sad situation, Preserve from this hunger, give love in the heart; And from reciprocity all exaltation, Shall come from that food, Love doth ever impart ! It were better to die. than to meet degradation, And, hungry for love, find a desolate grave; Unwept and unmissed, as devoid of relation, To close the dull eye, and the death damp to lave! No mortal can live, they exist, 'tis probation, Save heart beats to heart with its musical ring. E'en the Gods cannot give that which man calls salvation, If love doth not cover beneath its glad wing! No hunger hath place in the highest creation, There's food for perfection, so strange to earth's sod; Long ago'twas decreed in the grandconsumation, That Heaven by love, is the reflex of God! H. W. Naisbitt. TRADITIONS OF THE DELUGE. I. THE CHALDEAN STORY. In these days of increasing infidelity in the bible and revelation, fostered by such menas Ingersoll, it is refreshing to glance at the various traditions extant among many widely dissimilar nations, relative to the deluge. The story of the deluge as narrated in the bible is a favorite subject for ridicule among the would-be wise, who affect to believe such an event impossible. But nearly all nations, even from remote antiquity, have treasured in their temples and in their sacred archives, legends of that great cataclysm, when a world was destroyed and peopled again. These legends vary in many particulars, but agree in certain essential points. All of them agree that only a single family, or a very few persons, were preserved from drowning, either by a boat, floating upon a log, or by climbing trees; and that after all other people had perished, those who remained went forth and again peopled the world. Such traditions were had among the ancient Chaldeans, Assyrians, East Indians and Greeks; also in later times among the ancient Welsh, Scandinavian, and other European nations, and also among African peoples and American Indians. Such a unanimity among peoples so diverse in language and country, in tradition, pursuits and character, cannot be the result of a mere chance, but is of itself one of the strongest proofs of the story as told by Moses in the Book of Genesis. Such a remarkable agreement could only result from the fact that all these nations had received their information from one common source from those who had themselves escaped the flood. In process of time they altered and added to the story of their fathers to suit themselves and the times in which they lived, but the main facts in the story remained. In this article will be presented the Chaldean version of the flood, as related by Berosus, a Chaldean priest and his torian. He took his account of the flood from the sacred books of Babylon. In his story he first tells of nine successive kings who reigned before the flood, and then relates the story of Noah, or Xisuthrus, as he calls him, as follows: "Obartes Elbaratutu being dead, his son Xisuthrus (Khasisatra, or Noah) reigned eighteen sares-64,800 years. It was under him that the great deluge took place, the history of which is told in the sacred documents as follows: Kronos (Ea) appeared to him in his sleep, and announced that on the fifteenth of the month of Daisios (the Assyrian month Sivan, a little before the summer solstice), all men should perish by a flood. He therefore commanded him to take the beginning, middle, and end of whatever was consigned to writing, and to bury it in the City of the Sun, at Sippara; then to build a vessel, and to enter it with his family and dearest friends; to place in this vessel provisions to eat and drink, and to cause animals, birds and quadrupeds, to enter it; lastly, to prepare everything for navigation. And when Xisuthrus inquired in what direction he should steer his bark, he was answered, 'towards the gods!' and enjoined to pray that good might come of it for men. "Xisuthrus obeyed, and constructed a vessel five stadia long and five broad; he collected all that had been prescribed to him, and embarked his wife, his children, and his intimate friends. "The deluge having come, and soon going down, Xisuthrus loosed some of the birds. These, finding no food nor place to alight on, returned to the ship. A few days later Xisuthrus again let them free, but they returned again to the vessel, their feet full of mud. Finally, loosed the third time, the birds came no more back. Then Xisuthrus understood that the earth was bare. He made an opening in the roof of the ship, and saw that it had grounded upon the top of a mountain. He then descended with his wife, his daughter, and his pilot, who worshipped the earth, raised an altar, and there sacrificed to the gods; at the same time he vanished with those who accompanied him. "Meanwhile, those who had remained in the vessel, not seeing Xisuthrus return, descended too, and began to seek him, calling him by his name. They saw Xisuthrus no more; but a voice from heaven was heard commanding their piety toward the gods; that he, indeed, was receiving the reward of his piety, in being carried away to dwell thenceforth in the midst of the gods, and that his wife, his daughter, and the pilot of the ship shared the same honor. The voice further said that they were to return to Babylon, and, comformably to the decrees of fate, disinter the writings buried at Sippara in order to transmit them to men. It added that the country in which they found themselves was Armenia. These, then, having heard the voice, sacrificed to the gods and return on foot to Babylon. Of the vessel of Xisuthrus, which had finally landed in Armenia, a portion is still to be found in the Gordyan mountains in Armenia, and pilgrims bring thence asphalte that they have scraped from its fragments. It is used to keep off the influence of witchcraft. As to the companions of Xisuthrus, they came to Babylon, disintered the writings left at Sippara, founded numerous cities, built temples, and restored Babylon." Notwithstanding the fanciful additions and alterations of this ancient Chaldean tradition, the reader may easily see that it agrees closely in its most essential features with the bible story so familiar to us, and that without doubt it was derived in the beginning from the true history. We see there was a warning of the coming of the flood; the command to build a vessel; to fill it with animals and with food for them; the entrance into it of this man, his family and friends; the vessel floating upon the waters of the flood; the sending forth of the birds; the final landing of the vessel; the going forth of its living freight, and the sacrifices offered: All these points tally closely with the record in the bible. We will next present the second Chaldean account of the deluge, as translated from tablets now in the British museum, dug from the ruins of Nineveh, and given to the world by that celebrated master of Asiatic lore, George Smith. From the tablets it appears that the history of the deluge was transcribed two thousand seven hundred years ago by order of Assurbanipal, King of Assyria, from a record which was then still more ancient in the sacred library of Uruk, a city of the first Chaldean Empire. The date of the more ancient version, from which was transcribed the one upon the tablets of Nineveh, now translated by Mr. Smith, was at least seventeen hundred years before Christ, or about four hundred years before Moses-probably in the time of Abraham. He who tells this story-Izdubar— being ill with leprosy, says that he went to visit Noah-or as he is called in this legend, Khasisatra--the Xisuthrus of the first Chaldean story-and desired to be healed by him; after which he asks him to relate the story of the deluge, which Khasisatra (Noah) does in the following language. The reader will note frequent breaks in the story, shown by asterisks, and also words inserted frequently in brackets. This is because, in many places, the inscription upon the tablets are broken and defaced; and the words in brackets are inserted by the translator to continue the story in its entirety. Khasisatra (Noah) says: "I will reveal, to thee O Izdubar, the history of my preservation-and tell to thee the decision of the gods. "The town of Shurippak, a town of which thou knowest, is situated on the Euphrates; it was ancient, and in it (men did not honor) the god. (I alone, I was) their servant, to the great gods. (The gods took counsel on the appeal of) Anu, (a deluge was proposed by) Bel (and approved by Nabon, Nergal and) Adar. "And the god (Ea)the immutable Lord, repeated this command in a dream. I listened to the decree of fate that he announced, and he said to me: 'Man of Shurippak, son of Ubaratutu,— thou build a vessel and finish it (quickly.) (By a deluge) I will destroy substance and life. Cause thou to go up into the vessel the substance of all that has life. The vessel thou shall build-six hundred cubits shall be the measure of its length, and sixty cubits the amount of its |