The face that we see in the portrait is that of a thinker, a poet, and an artist.  It is the face of one who held intimate converse with the great poets of the ages, of one whose favorite books were the Bible, Virgil, Theocritus and Shakespeare.  Though Millet had many genial traits in his nature, his expression here is profoundly serious.  Such an expression tells much of the inner life of the man.  His pictures were too original to be popular at once, and while he waited for purchasers he found it hard to support his family.  His anxieties wore upon his health, and he was subject to frequent headaches of frightful severity.  Nor was the struggle with poverty his only trial.  He had to contend constantly against the misconceptions and misrepresentations of hostile critics.

He was of too stern a nature and too loyal to his ideals to vary a hair’s breadth from his course, yet criticism embittered him.  “Give me signboards to paint, if you will,” he exclaimed, “but at least let me think out my subjects in my own fashion and finish the work that I have to do, in peace.”

Like all who have great originality, Millet lived in a world of his own, and had but a few congenial friends.  To such friends, however, and in the inner circle of his home, he opened his great and tender heart, and all who knew him loved him.