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THE STORY OF AN ARTIST'S LIFE 11773 gave as much promise "as this small-sized one should be much larger." He prevailed--very likely it flattered my vanity--and I bought a canvas six by ten feet. After working upon it quite a long time, I came to the conclusion that I could only make a very much "watered" edition of the smaller one and I recommended work upon my "first love," accepting radical criticism with more caution. It was shown upon its completion to a gentleman whose business office was in Paris, and who seemed to like it so much that he thought a glimpse of the Holy Land would be beneficial, and thus it happened that in February, 1897, I saw for the first time Egypt and Palestine, due, be it well understood, to the generosity of this Philadelphia gentleman. Those great barren hills that can blossom like a rose, with irrigation, were to me a natural setting, a fitting setting, to a great tragedy. The country, sad and desolate, is big and majestic. The only marked exception that I saw to this aridity was Bethlehem--a garden spot. All around parched and seared, this little Bethlehem was green and refreshing, and, as it seemed so to fit in with our feeling, it seemed "blessed of Heaven." Believe this or not, the difference is striking--Jerusalem, barren, broken-cisterned, sterile; Bethlehem, six miles away in the midst of olive groves, green, refreshing, quiet, still the peaceful shepherds upon the hilltops--blessed. What the absorption of that valiant remnant of the Crusaders by this village may have to do with this fact I do not know. But the fact is pleasing. The six weeks' stay in Jerusalem passed quickly and, before I could realize it, it was time to turn my face homeward. It was while at Venice on my way home that I received the offer of the purchase of my picture of that year, "Resurrection of Lazarus," by the French Government. That I should be asked to sell it to the Government, when I had no definite knowledge whether it had been even received (though I had tried to find out) was a great surprise, the greatest of my life. I had not expected to be refused, but a refusal would have been less of a surprise than was this offer to purchase it. True, both of my masters, but include his photograph especially Benjamin Constant, had been pleased with it- so much so that, when I took it to his studio early one morning, he had it taken to the bedroom of one of his sons to show it. I felt this a very high compliment, but we all know that they say--"one swallow does not make a Summer"--so, until I had a more general verdict, I felt doubtful and full of fear. I shall never forget the feeling I had upon the reception of this letter. But mine is not a nature, I fear, long to allow one complete happiness. So that the more I thought about this offer of purchase, the more it seemed to me that, while there could be no mistake about their wishing to purchase it, the fact that the letter containing this offer has been on my track for three weeks and was, therefore, "ancient history" made me fear that the whole matter would be dropped. To forestall, if possible, such a misfortune to me, almost a "calamity," I sent a long telegram of acceptance which nearly "broke the bank." In a few days came an answer that quieted my highly strung condition. It was an accomplished fact. Now letters came from Paris, some with offers to buy; btu the one that affected me most was one from a very old friend in Paris who said, "come home, Tanner, to see the crowds before your picture." This was a chance not to be lost. I was off next morning to Paris. I lived several years in dread that that picture might look to others as it did to me, and thus lose the place it held in the Luxembourg; and now I live in fear that, despite my "best efforts," I shall not be able to make the "critics" unhook it from its position and place a new picture as high as their esteem. The next year the "Annunciation" was painted. The first canvas of this subject was so unsatisfactory that there seemed no other way out of the difficulty than to commence a new one; this second one was more fortunate, and now hangs in the Wilstack Collection in Philadelphia. Another and longer trip to Jerusalem was now planned by my good friend, Mr. X-- of Philadelphia, on the occasion of the visit of the German Emperor to Palestine. It seemed to me that this might be a great pageant, or that there might be incidents not easily to calculate upon that might arise, which would give a chance for a very interesting picture. So with a friend I sailed from Brindisi, via Alexandria, for Jaffa, about a week before the arrival of the Emperor. Our hoped-for picturesqueness of the entry of the Emperor into Jerusalem did not materialize. The police regulations were too severe, the whole affair was, it as were, on the "gallop," and at no time was it in any way an event of any beauty. Include his photograph