...at breakfast I found a letter from London, which contained a letter from Vincent and one from Ursula Loyer, both were very kind and amiable. She asks me to write her and Vincent wished very much we should be friends. I’ll tell what he writes about her. “Ursula Loyer is a girl with whom I have agreed that we’ll be each other’s brother and sister. You must also look on her as a sister and write to her, and I think that you will then soon discover what she is. I say no more than that I have never seen or dreamt of anything like the love between her and her mother.” Then there follows a discription of Christmas and New-year and then still the following phrase. “Old girl, you mustn’t think that there’s anything more behind it than what I have written to you. But don’t say anything about it at home, I must do that myself. Just this again, love that girl for my sake.” I suppose there will be a love between those two, as between Agnes and David Copperfield. Although I must say, that I believe there is more than a brother’s love between them; I send you here Ursula’s letter so you can judge for yourself...
...by half how foolish it was of him to hurt his arm at such an inconvenient time. And now adieu. I must...
...country. He thinks that it is not impossible. Or at least a place as an evangelist might fall vacant...
...at which the matter of V. will be discussed and that he will then send a reply. Vincent will continue his studies until the end of the month. He has asked Mr Jones for a reference and has received a very satisfactory one. He and we are of course happy about that, and now we must just wait. That is sometimes easier than at other times. He writes many letters, long ones too, and when reading them one is inclined to say: how can a simple clergyman come out of this, and then again there is nevertheless something good in them as well. God grant that his common sense gain the upper hand and that good opinions may prepare him and that he get his wish...
...at Dour Dear Sir! Having received a letter from my son Vincent, who wrote to me that he had approached you, asking for work and at the same time told me that you, Sir, wished to have information about him from me, his father, I hasten to satisfy your request by saying: That it was indeed my son, who has been in Belgium for three months, looking for a position as an evangelist, who came to see you in the hope that you might be able to give him the benefit of your wisdom and some advice and information, which he needs. That not only for the 3 months that he has spent in Belgium, but for a very long time in addition, for several years, he has been making efforts to find an opportunity to work for the Gospel. That he has found it far from easy, but that despite the difficulties he has encountered, he has persevered, and at this point is still of good courage, and he has no intention of giving up his vocation, as he calls it, to work as an evangelist. That for 3 months he has stayed in Brussels at my expense in the home of Mr Plugge (6, chemin de Halage, Laeken) since (on the first visit that he and I made to Brussels) Mr Pietersen, a minister in Malines, and also Mr de Jonge, a minister in Brussels, wished to make his acquaintance. Now, three months having passed – almost penniless – through his own fault – since he obstinately refuses to receive money from me or to be supported by me, knowing that I am far from being wealthy, he has gone in person to the place where he hoped to find work, and it was because of that that he came to see you. I end this letter, Sir, by recommending him to you, and I assure you that he has not failed to show that he is zealous and seriously wishes to work for the Gospel within the limits of his strength. That God may grant that he may find among you also the means to earn his daily bread through active work honestly performed. His path is hard, the obstacles that he will yet have to overcome are great, but they do not frighten him at all. So, Sir, permit me to recommend him to you, as I also commend him to God, his and our Heavenly Father in Jesus Christ. With my fraternal good wishes, T. van Gogh Protestant Minister at Etten near Breda (Holland...
...at 3.30 in the afternoon. He was buried on Tuesday 30 August. Dear Theo! ‘That would be a little too harsh for us, for Vincent to send his letter off without us even saying good-day. Have you been well? We hope so, since Uncle Cent received a letter from you this week, and fortunately Uncle said nothing more about indisposition. In the meantime, will you receive our letter and, as we believe, good advice and, we hope, follow it? It is already so autumnal with that rain, a demi-saison is such a wonderful garment, useful and natty, and it comes in handy now. We had a pleasant week in Princenhage. Uncle is very well, but we were disturbed by the news of the worrying state of Mr De Jonge. Pa asked if he should come and the answer was “Please do”. Pa arrived Friday morning, went there immediately, and was there and supported Mr De Jonge body and soul at his death. That was fortunate, and was a great satisfaction for Pa. Pa will also be going to the funeral on Tuesday, it is fortunate that the man is out of his suffering, but it does move one. Pa came to Uncle and Aunt’s house on Saturday, and we had a lovely day in the Liesbos. So joys and sorrows ensured that Pa much enjoyed the outing. Vincent arrived on Friday afternoon, and you see that fortunately he had made a great success of his trip, which gave us great pleasure, and for the rest we hope for the best. Good news from Anna and Jo. And their little Sara, they write that they are in high spirits. We haven’t yet had any firm news as to whether Lies will come on Wednesday but think she will, and then she will stay until a week on Saturday for my birthday, which we hope will be nice with her at home. If only you could be there again, but we would have no complaints about you were it to be more often, and then a day longer for once. It is getting a bit busier, or doesn’t that start until September? Pa has gone to De Hoeve, I’m going out part of the way to meet him, the weather’s glorious now. Cor still in Baarn, tomorrow to Helvoirt, and Wednesday here. It has been lovely for him. This is just a good-day word and a kiss from your loving Ma. Pa asks to convey his warm regards. Came back so tired from De Hoeve due to a boot pinching. So wish you all the best...
...staying for at least three years to work in the studio of the painter Cormon. I believe I told you last summer what a solitary life the brother has lived. He doesn’t have any social graces at all. He rows with...
...with him. This doesn’t make it pleasant for me at home, and I’m hoping for a change. That will...
...in him. This makes it almost intolerable for me at home. No one wants to come by any more because it...
...at that time because I was foolish enough not to ask her last year whether she wanted to correspond with me. If I do so now, or have someone ask her, then I’d be surrendering myself to her completely, and you’ll perhaps agree with me that she shouldn’t buy a pig in a poke. So I can ask your advice and so you must begin by telling me if you still correspond with her. Now there’s something else. At the moment I’m absolutely unable even to get engaged, since a change in my circumstances is imminent, which I’ll write to you about some other time. I hope that everything will be in order by this summer, but before then I don’t have enough certainty. So keep what I’m writing to you about to yourself, for I’ve written to no one about it and I’ve only spoken to her brother, who feels I should wait a little, at least until my affairs are settled. And how are things with you, little sister. Are you living happily, or rather are you really into life? For my part I feel that I’ve lived too much through the eyes and feelings of others, and that although I like reading and paintings there is something more that I know exists and that I’m not into it. Living simply with nature without poetry that comes from somewhere other than your own heart and own thoughts, that is the true thing. Certainly, everyone has that well-spring and it’s just a question of arranging life so that that spring wells up. Certainly, encouragement from outside is part of it, and that consists of two large components. In the first place mixing with congenial souls, and secondly, but that is an aid, by seeking it from other poets. That seeking is so difficult, and is actually sterile if one isn’t into real life oneself. I hope for your sake that you find much sympathy and some happiness in your life. How is your work and your writing getting along? Do you still have a great love of nature? How is it at home? And how is your health? There, a whole lot of questions, and I’m sure that you’ll soon answer them. Spring is slowly coming here, but it was raw and cold for oh so long. Now it’s becoming lovely, and people, like nature, sometimes thaw out when the sun shines. I needed that oh so much. Now little sister, a hearty kiss, and don’t grumble too much that I kept you waiting so long. Just think that it was winter and that that’s over now. Good-day and ever yours, Theo...
...at this time, and he goes on to say: “At times it seems to me that my blood is more or less ready to start circulating again, which wasn’t the case the last few months, I really couldn’t stand it any more.” I hope that the milder air will do him good. I think that I’ll be getting a young painter, “Koning”, to come and live with me at the beginning of next month. He isn’t nearly as skilful as Vincent, but it will be more companionable than being on my own. How is your drawing coming along? Is it a success, or have you given it up? Will you let me know if there’s anything you need? I would so much like to know if there’s anything I can do for you. You mustn’t be angry if you don’t get any more letters. Vincent started writing to you ten times and I’ve read more letters to you than you’ve received from him, but sometimes one begins rattling away if one has finally got started, and then it’s better to start afresh. But his letters are always interesting, which is why it’s a pity that he doesn’t write more. Bid Ma good-day from me, and tell her that I’ll write to her this week. Warm regards, and believe me your loving Theo...
...at home, which is why rather more people drop by and we have a rather convivial time. It was through him that I visited a family where the piano was played beautifully. Do you still remember the painting by Gauguin with the negresses that hangs above the couch? He recently sent twenty paintings to me at the gallery that he’d made in Brittany last year. You know, if you can see the painting in your mind’s eye, what a strange poetry there is in it. Now, the new paintings have the same thing, but since the subjects are closer to hand they’re easier to understand, and if they aren’t more beautiful they are more immediately enjoyable. There are winter landscapes with grey-green hills against the leaden sky where the colour is completely muted, and then one can’t help thinking of the inclemency of the undulating fields. Or the same landscape but with a few beech trees with the reddish brown withered leaves as a contrast to the green. There are also spring landscapes with the delicate branches of the trees from which the young leaves hang like little bells and tell of the jubilance of nature rejuvenated. Or a small village in the first days of spring hidden in a purple haze behind the more deeply coloured tree-trunks, the bright green leaves of which find their echo in the green fields that one sees stretching out against the hill in the distance beyond the village. You’d have to see them to get an idea of how diversely he expresses himself, and above all to sense the different moods in which he made them. Mostly the calm nature that fills his inner being with resignation, but sometimes also the fierce upwelling of all his suffering and struggles, which he expresses through the most powerful, deepest tones that reverberate above all when he saw nature swelling up under the benevolent and creative power of the sun. It’s impossible to describe everything that there is in those paintings, but it turns out that he’s even greater than anyone had supposed. The same thing could happen with him as formerly happened with Millet, who is now understood by everyone because the poetry he proclaimed is so powerful that everyone, from great to small, finds it satisfying. Monet, too, makes superb scenes of nature, but one has to be happy and healthy oneself to enjoy them, otherwise one might think: “Oh, if only I was there, then I’d be happy”. While from Gauguin consoling words are whispered, as it were, to those who are not happy or healthy. With him, nature itself speaks, while with Monet one hears the maker of the paintings speaking. Degas is surprisingly taken with Gauguin’s work. So much so that he wants to go to Arles to visit him. “Lucky dogs,” says Degas of Vincent and Gauguin, “that’s the life”. I don’t need to tell you what that means coming from the lips of the great Degas, who himself has such an understanding of life in its fullness. Vincent hasn’t sent me anything in a long time, but I suspect from his letters that he has made beautiful things. Gauguin’s company is naturally worth a great deal to him, and it’s absorbing him quite a lot at the moment. He recently painted portraits, and above all he seems to be satisfied with them. It’s in the figure that he finds the highest expression of his art...
...your love, God bless your endeavours. Anna is also sad, Jo and Wil are not at home. A kiss from your ma.’
...him, is it that postman? Fortunate that there’s at least someone. Sadness and happiness go together in...
...at the beginning of our discussion. When I tried to get him to talk about the motive that drove him to cut off his ear, he replied that it was a purely personal matter. In short, I find that his condition has improved a little, and I do not believe his life is in danger, at least not for the moment. He is eating fairly well and his physical strength is helping him bear his crises. My assessment is that he will be able to recover in a short time, while retaining the extreme excitability that must form the essence of his character. We are currently tending to his ear alone, and certainly not to his mental state. His wound is much better and is not causing us any concern. A few days ago, we issued a certificate of mental disturbance. The mayor signed an order leaving him in the hospital for the time being, while awaiting his transfer to an asylum. During this time, the chief of police will carry out his enquiry, and then the Prefect will give instructions for him to be taken to Aix or Marseille. I myself was a house physician in Marseille a few months ago, and I should be glad to recommend him to the colleague who took my place and who is a good friend of mine. Despite that, I shall permit myself to ask you a question and to offer you a piece of advice. Would you like to have your brother in an asylum close to Paris? Do you have resources? If so, you may very well send him to look for one; his condition easily allows him to make the journey. The matter has not progressed so far that it could not be halted, and for the chief of police to suspend his report. This is the information that I had to offer you concerning your poor brother. You ask me for my assessment; I shall give you it for what it is worth. I shall always be delighted to give you news of him, because I too have a brother; I too have been far away from my family. In a few months, when I submit my doctoral thesis in Paris, I too should be happy if somebody were able to take an interest in me at a difficult moment. With my sincerest regards, Rey Fe...
...at the top of the letter. ‘I acknowledge receipt of your kind letter, by which you do me too great an honour, and I hasten to reply in order to inform you that your dear brother Vincent has fully recovered, he left the hospital today on the 7th instant. What has delayed my reply by 24 hours is that we spent the whole day together, and I ask you to write to him. I have not given him your letter because he would be too distressed to know that he has caused you so much trouble. When you send him your news, let him remain unaware that you had knowledge of the causes of his illness, and tell him that you learned through your brother in Paris that he was unwell and that you are very pleased that he has recovered. We talked at length today about you and about your mother. Thank you for the kind things that you say about my wife and our little daughter. Reassure yourself about the health of my good friend Vincent; I am with him whenever my work permits me, and if anything should happen I would let you know at once. I do not believe I deserve all the thanks that you give me, but I shall always strive to deserve my friend Vincent’s respect, as well as that of all those who are dear to him. Permit me to pay my respects, and those of my family, to your mother. I ask you, Mademoiselle, to accept the sincere greetings of your good brother Vincent’s friend...