My dear Theo,
I’m writing you another line to tell you that on reflection I think the best thing will be quite simply to take a mat and a mattress and make a bed in the studio on the floor. Because for the whole summer it’s going to be so hot it’ll be more than enough like that. Then in the winter we could see if we’ll need to take a bed, yes or no.
About the bed you have at home, I think the arrangement of having a painter living with you is good for the painter and for you too, from the point of view of conversation and company. So even if Koning were to leave, there would perhaps be someone else who could replace him. So why don’t you keep the bed at home in any case?
It’s quite possible that as far as houses go I’ll find an even better one, either at Martigues, beside the sea,1 or in some other place. But the delightful thing about this studio is the gardens opposite.2 But there you are, as for doing repairs or furnishing it reasonably well, let’s wait — that will be wiser — all the more so since if we had to have cholera here in the summer, it could be that I’d up sticks and go to the country. It’s dirty, this town, with its old streets!
As for the Arlésiennes they talk about so much, don’t they,3 do you know what I think of them, in short? Certainly, they’re truly charming, but it’s not what it must have been once. And there you are, it’s often more Mignard4 than Mantegna, since they’re in decline,
1v:3 but be that as it may, it’s beautiful, really beautiful, and here I’m only talking about the Roman type — a bit boring and ordinary. But what exceptions! There are women like Fragonards and — like Renoir. And something you can’t fit into what’s already been done in painting! The best thing one could do, from all points of view, would be to paint portraits of women and children. But it seems to me that it won’t be I who does that, I don’t feel I’m enough of a Mr Bel-ami for that.5
But I’d be mightily pleased if that Bel-ami of the south — which Monticelli – wasn’t — but was preparing the ground — which I can feel in the air while at the same time feeling that it isn’t me — I’d be, I tell you — mightily pleased if in painting a man like Guy de Maupassant came along and cheerfully painted the beautiful people and things in these parts.
As for me, I’ll work, and here and there some of my work will last — but what Claude Monet is in landscape, the same thing in figure painting — who’s going to do that? Yet like me you must feel it’s in the air. Rodin? Rodin doesn’t do colour — it’s not him. But the painter of the future is a colourist such as there hasn’t been before. Manet prepared the ground, but you’re well aware that the Impressionists have already used stronger colour than Manet’s.
This painter of the future, I can’t imagine him living in small restaurants, working with several false teeth and going into Zouave brothels like me.
But it seems to me that I’m in the right when I feel it will come in a later generation and that in our case we have to do what our means allow us in that direction, without having doubts and without flinching.
Please let Guillaumin know that Russell wants to go and see him at home and intends to buy another painting from him.6 I’m writing to Russell today.
I was hearing yesterday from MacKnight and from the Dane that in Marseille there was never anything good in the dealers’ windows, and that they thought that nothing at all was being done there.
I’m very keen to see something of that for myself, but for the very reason that I don’t want to get all worked up I’ll do it when my nerves are settled.
In the letter I addressed wrongly,7 I was actually talking about Bonger. He probably dares say as much, since the Russians are having such success at the Theâtre Libre, &c. But that’s no reason, is it, to try to use that success to run the French down?8
2v:6 I’ve just read Zola’s Au bonheur des dames again and I find it more and more beautiful.9
Now that’s news, that Reid’s back.10 I told Russell that since it was I who had introduced him into his home it was partly up to me to tell him why we’d fallen out.11
That Reid was ambitious, and being hard up for money like all of us, he was beside himself when it came to earning money.
That I saw all that as involuntary acts (and him not responsible, therefore, and to be forgiven for these acts) of an over-excited nervous system.
But that with Reid the vulgar dealer is stronger than the distinguished artist.
That won’t suit Reid, but is it too much to tell the truth? It’s surely no better than that now, and worse, in fact.
Russell’s friend, MacKnight, is a cold and not very nice character, too bad if I have both of them against me.
However, I’ve said nothing about MacKnight, although I imagine he has no more heart than Reid. If he found his painting style that would do him good, and it’s not impossible that it will come — he’s still young. 27, I think.12
Let’s assume then, if you think it’s right, that we won’t be in a hurry yet to put the studio in order. It’s already
2r:8 good enough for the time being. And if I sleep there the way I’ve said above it won’t cost me anything. I save 30 francs at the hotel and pay 15 in rent, so there’s nothing but benefit in that.
Handshake to you and to Koning. I have another drawing.13
I’ve seen a whole lot of crates for my consignment at the penny bazaar, I’ll go back to take measurements.
Was the Degroux you speak of the same subject as the one in the museum in Brussels, the Saying grace?14 True what you say about De Braekeleer. Have you heard that he was suffering from a brain disease that’s supposed to have reduced him to helplessness???
I’ve heard that, but wasn’t it temporary?15 You mention the name of someone else, whom I don’t know.