A rather melancholy letter from Gauguin, he talks vaguely of having definitely decided on Madagascar, but so vaguely that one can clearly see that he’s only thinking of it because he doesn’t really know what else to think about. And the execution of the plan seems almost absurd to me.
[Sketches 896A–C]
896A–C (left to right, top to bottom). Girl against a background of wheat; Couple walking between rows of poplars; Wheatfields
Here are three croquis — one of a figure of a peasant woman, big yellow hat with a knot of sky-blue ribbons, very red face. Coarse blue blouse with orange spots, background of ears of wheat.
It’s a no. 30 canvas but it’s really a little coarse, I fear. Then the horizontal landscape with the fields, a subject like one of Michel’s — but then the coloration is soft green, yellow and green-blue. Then undergrowth, violet trunks of poplars which cross the landscape perpendicularly like columns. The depths of the undergrowth are blue, and under the big trunks the flowery meadow, white, pink, yellow, green, long russet grasses and flowers.
The people here at the inn used to live in Paris; there they were constantly indisposed, parents and children, here they never have anything, and especially not the littlest one which came here when it was 2 months old, and then the mother had difficulty in suckling him, while here all of that went well almost immediately. In another respect you work all day long, and at the moment you’re probably hardly sleeping. I’d willingly believe that Jo would have twice as much milk here, and that then when she came here one could do without cows, donkeys and other quadrupeds. And as for Jo, so that during the daytime she has company, my word, she could also go and stay just opposite père Gachet, perhaps you remember that there’s an inn just opposite at the bottom of the slope.
What do you want me to say as regards the future, perhaps, perhaps, without the Boussods?
What will be, will be, you haven’t spared yourself trouble for them, you’ve served them with an exemplary fidelity all the time.
I, too, am trying to do as well as I can, but I don’t hide from you that I scarcely dare count on always having the necessary health.
And if my illness recurred you would excuse me, I still love art and life very much, but as to ever having a wife of my own I don’t believe in it very strongly. I fear, rather, that towards let’s say the age of forty — but let’s not say anything — I declare that I know nothing, absolutely nothing, of what turn it may yet take.
But I’m writing to you at once that as regards the little one I think you mustn’t worry yourselves excessively; if it’s that he’s teething, well to make the task easier for him perhaps we could distract him more here where there are children, animals, flowers and good air.
I shake your hand and Jo’s firmly in thought, and kiss the little one.
Ever yours,
Vincent
Thank you for the consignment of colours, for the 50-franc note and for the article on the Independents.
An Englishman, Australian, called Walpole Brooke will probably come to see you; he lives at 16 rue de la Grande Chaumière — I told him that you would let him know a time when he could come and see my canvases that are at your place.
He’ll probably show you some of his studies, which are still rather lifeless, but however he does observe nature. He has been here in Auvers for months, and we went out together sometimes, he was brought up in Japan, you would never think so from his painting — but that may come.
898 | Auvers-sur-Oise, on or about Thursday, 10 July 1890 | To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger (F)
Dear brother and sister,
Jo’s letter was really like a gospel for me, a deliverance from anguish which I was caused by the rather difficult and laborious hours for us all that I shared with you. It’s no small thing when all together we feel the daily bread in danger, no small thing when for other causes than that we also feel our existence to be fragile.
Once back here I too still felt very saddened, and had continued to feel the storm that threatens you also weighing upon me. What can be done — you see I usually try to be quite good-humoured, but my life, too, is attacked at the very root, my step also is faltering. I feared — not completely — but a little nonetheless — that I was a danger to you, living at your expense — but Jo’s letter clearly proves to me that you really feel that for my part I am working and suffering like you.
There — once back here I set to work again — the brush however almost falling from my hands and — knowing clearly what I wanted I’ve painted another three large canvases since then. They’re immense stretches of wheatfields under turbulent skies, and I made a point of trying to express sadness, extreme loneliness. You’ll see this soon, I hope — for I hope to bring them to you in Paris as soon as possible, since I’d almost believe that these canvases will tell you what I can’t say in words, what I consider healthy and fortifying about the countryside.
Now the third canvas is Daubigny’s garden, a painting I’d been thinking about ever since I’ve been here.
I hope with all my heart that the planned journey may provide you with a little distraction.
I often think of the little one, I believe that certainly it’s better to bring up children than to expend all one’s nervous energy in making paintings, but what can you do, I myself am now, at least I feel I am, too old to retrace my steps or to desire something else. This desire has left me, although the moral pain of it remains.
I very much regret not having seen Guillaumin again, but it pleases me that he’s seen my canvases.
If I’d waited for him I would probably have stayed to talk with him in such a way as to miss my train.
Wishing you luck and good heart and relative prosperity, please tell Mother and Sister sometime that I think of them very often, besides this morning I have a letter from them and will reply shortly.
Handshakes in thought.
Ever yours,
Vincent
My money won’t last me very long this time, as on my return I had to pay the baggage costs from Arles. I retain very good memories of this trip to Paris. A few months ago I little dared hope to see our friends again. I thought that Dutch lady had a great deal of talent.
Lautrec’s painting, portrait of a female musician, is quite astonishing, it moved me when I saw it.
899 | Auvers-sur-Oise, between about Thursday, 10 and Monday, 14 July 1890 | To Anna van Gogh-Carbentus and Willemien van Gogh (D)
Dear mother and sister,
Sincere thanks for your kind letters, which gave me a great deal of pleasure. For the present I feel calmer than last year, and the turmoil in my head has really abated so much. I’ve always believed that, incidentally; that seeing the old surroundings again would have this effect.
I often think of you both, and would very much like to see you again.
Very good that Wil’s started working in the hospital. And that she says — the operations weren’t as bad as she expected, precisely because she appreciates the means of lessening the pain, and the way many doctors endeavour to do what has to be done simply and sensibly and with kindness — well I call that looking at things the right way and — having faith.
But precisely for one’s health, as you say — it’s very necessary to work in the garden and to see the flowers growing.
For my part, I’m wholly absorbed in the vast expanse of wheatfields against the hills, large as a sea, delicate yellow, delicate pale green, delicate purple of a ploughed and weeded piece of land, regularly speckled with the green of flowering potato plants, all under a sky with delicate blue, white, pink, violet tones.
I’m wholly in a mood of almost too much calm, in a mood to paint that.
I sincerely hope that you’ll have really happy days with Theo and Jo and, like me, you’ll see how well they look after the baby, who looks well.
How big Anna’s children must be by now.
Regards for today, I must get out and work, all embraced in thought.
Your lo
ving
Vincent
902 | Auvers-sur-Oise, Wednesday, 23 July 1890 | To Theo van Gogh (F)
My dear brother,
Thanks for your letter of today and for the 50-franc note it contained.
I’d perhaps like to write to you about many things, but first the desire has passed to such a degree, then I sense the pointlessness of it.
I hope that you’ll have found those gentlemen favourably disposed towards you.
As regards the state of peace in your household, I’m just as convinced of the possibility of preserving it as of the storms that threaten it.
I prefer not to forget the little French I know, and certainly wouldn’t see the point of delving deeper into the rights or wrongs in any discussions on one side or the other. It’s just that this wouldn’t interest me.
Things go quickly here — aren’t Dries, you and I a little more convinced of that, don’t we feel it a little more than those ladies? So much the better for them — but anyway, talking with rested minds, we can’t even count on that.
As for myself, I’m applying myself to my canvases with all my attention, I’m trying to do as well as certain painters whom I’ve liked and admired a great deal.
What seems to me on my return — is that the painters themselves are increasingly at bay.
Very well. But has the moment to make them understand the utility of a union not rather passed already? On the other hand a union, if it were formed, would go under if the rest went under. Then you’d perhaps tell me that dealers would unite for the Impressionists; that would be very fleeting. Anyway it seems to me that personal initiative remains ineffective, and having done the experiment, would one begin it again?
I noted with pleasure that the Gauguin from Brittany that I saw was very beautiful, and it seems to me that the others he’s done there must be too.
Perhaps you’ll see this croquis of Daubigny’s garden — it’s one of my most deliberate canvases — to it I’m adding a croquis of old thatched roofs and the croquis of 2 no. 30 canvases depicting immense stretches of wheat after the rain. Hirschig asked me to ask you please to order the attached list of colours for him from the same colourman you send me. Tasset can send them directly to him, cash on delivery, but then he would have to be given the 20%.
Which would be simplest.
Or you’d put them into the consignment of colours for me, adding the invoice or telling me how much they cost, and then he’d send you the money. Here one can’t find anything good in the way of colours.
I’ve simplified my own order to a very bare minimum.
Hirschig is beginning to understand a little, it has seemed to me, he’s done the portrait of the old schoolmaster, which he gave him, good — and then he has landscape studies which are a little like the Konings at your place as regards colour. It will become completely like that, perhaps, or like the things by Voerman that we saw together.
More soon. Look after yourself, and good luck in business &c. Warm regards to Jo, and handshakes in thought.
Yours truly,
Vincent.
[Sketch 902A]
902A. Daubigny’s garden
Daubigny’s garden
Foreground of green and pink grass, on the left a green and lilac bush and a stem of plants with whitish foliage. In the middle a bed of roses. To the right a hurdle, a wall, and above the wall a hazel tree with violet foliage.
Then a hedge of lilac, a row of rounded yellow lime trees. The house itself in the background, pink with a roof of bluish tiles. A bench and 3 chairs, a dark figure with a yellow hat, and in the foreground a black cat. Sky pale green.
[Sketches 902B–D]
902B. Wheatfields
902C. Thatched cottages and figures
902D. Wheatfields
Sketch Illustrations
This list of Vincent van Gogh’s letter sketches illustrated in this volume is organized chronologically by letter number.
83A. View of Royal Road, Ramsgate, 1876. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 5.6 x 5.7 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
99A. Small churches at Petersham and Turnham Green, 1876. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 3.8 x 10 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
148A. Café Au charbonnage, 1878. Pencil, pen and brown ink, 14 x 14.2 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
151A. Cells where the miners work, 1879. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 0.6 x 0.9 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172A–C (top to bottom). Storm clouds over a field, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), watercolour, 5.5 x 13.2 cm (image). Digger, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 8.5 x 13.2 cm (image). Figure of a woman, 1881. Pencil and watercolour, 5 x 5.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172D. Digger, 1881. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 20.1 x 13.2 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172E. Man leaning on his spade, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 8 x 13.4 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172F. Man sitting by the fireplace (‘Worn out’), 1881. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), watercolour, 13.5 x 20.9 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172G–K (left to right, top to bottom). Woman near a window, 1881. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), watercolour, 4.8 x 4.2 cm (image). Woman near a window, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), watercolour, 4.6 x 5 cm (image). Man with a winnow, 1881. Pencil, 8 x 7 cm (image). Woman with a broom, 1881. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 5.8 x 2.5 cm (image). Sower, 1881. Pencil, 10.5 x 13.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
172L. Sower with a sack, 1881. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 20.9 x 13.5 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
192A–C (bottom to top, left to right). Scheveningen woman standing, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 9.5 x 5.7 cm (image). Sculpture, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 8 x 5.8 cm (image). Still life with cabbage and clogs, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 5.4 x 8.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
192D–E (left to right). Scheveningen woman sewing, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 11.7 x 10 cm (image). Scheveningen woman knitting, 1881. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 13.5 x 9 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
207A. Old woman with a shawl and a walking-stick, 1882. Pencil, 13.4 x 7.3 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
220A. Men digging, 1882. Pencil, 19.8 x 11.2 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
220B. Head of a man, 1882. Pencil, 19.8 x 11.2 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
222A. Ground plan of Van Gogh’s future house, 1882. Pen and black ink, 3.7 x 4.2 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
252A. Pollard willow, 1882. Pen and black ink, watercolour, 6.3 x 13.4 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
260A. View of the beach at Scheveningen, 1882. Pen and black ink, 8.8 x 6.4 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
274A. Beach with people strolling and boats, 1882. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 4.9 x 9.8 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
318A. Studio window with shutters, 1883. Pencil, pen and black ink, 9 x 10.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
318B. Studio window with shutters, 1883. Pencil, pen and black ink, 9.7 x 9.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
323A–B (top to bottom). Soup distribution in a public soup kitchen, 1883. Pen and black ink, 6.7 x 10.8 cm (image). Soup distribution in a public soup kitchen (detail), 1883. Pen and black ink, 1.3 x 1.8 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
323C. Soup distribution in a public soup kitchen, 1883. Pencil, pen and black ink, 9.9 x 10.5 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
325A–B (top to bottom). Scraper, 1883. Pen and black ink, 1.7 x 9.4 cm (image). Point, 1883. Pen and black ink, 0.6 x 8 cm (image). Private collection, Musée des Lettres et Manuscrits, Brussels
325C–D (top to bottom). Natural chalk, 1883. Pen and black ink, 1.2 x 13 cm (image). Head of a woman in profile, and two drafts, 1883. Pen and black ink, natural chalk, 5 x 12.5 cm (image). Private collection, Musée des
Lettres et Manuscrits, Brussels
325E. Baby crawling (‘Adventurer sallying forth’), 1883. Natural chalk, 7 x 9 cm. Present whereabouts unknown
348A. The sandpit at Dekkersduin near The Hague, 1883. Pencil, 10.9 x 20.9 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
354A. Section of Faber pencil, 1883. Pen and black ink, 1.2 x 1.2 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
361A–B (top to bottom). Weed burners, 1883. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 5.5 x 13.2 cm (image). Three people returning from the potato field, 1883. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 6.2 x 13.2 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
361C. Sketch of a painting by George Hendrik Breitner, 1883. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 1 x 9.4 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
392A–F (left to right, top to bottom). Farm, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 4 x 8 cm (image). Rider by a waterway, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 7 x 5.5 cm (image). Woman and child, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 10.3 x 6.5 cm (image). Head of a woman, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 2.8 x 2.5 cm (image). Woman working, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 7.3 x 7 cm (image). Country road with cottages, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 6.5 x 13.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
400A. Man pulling a harrow, 1883. Pencil, pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 9 x 13.4 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
428A. The Reformed Church in Nuenen, 1884. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), 5 x 4 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
440A. Plan of the studio, 1884. Pen and black ink, 2.3 x 5.7 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
450A. Man winding yarn, 1884. Pen and black ink, 13.2 x 15.5 cm (image). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
490A. Honesty in a vase, 1885. Pen and ink (discoloured to brown), watercolour, gouache, 7.8 x 5.8 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
Ever Yours Page 113